Papers On Psycho-Analysis

PAPERS ON PSYCHO-ANALYSIS

CHAPTER I

RATIONALISATION IN EVERYDAY LIFE

¹

ONE of the most brilliant results of Professor Freud’s researches, and one of the cardinal points of his psychological theory, has been the demonstration that a number of mental processes owe their origin to causes unknown to and unsuspected by the individual. This applies equally to the mentally normal and abnormal, between whom, here as elsewhere, it is so arbitrary to draw a distinction. In my opinion this apparently simple idea is one of the most far-reaching significance both to psychology and to the sciences, such as sociology, that must be founded on psychology. This conclusion is based on the view that enquiry, pursued with adequate scepticism, shews the number of such mental processes to be exceedingly great; in fact, I would maintain that the large majority of mental processes in a normal person arise from sources unsuspected by him. We are as yet only on the threshold of important discoveries that will surely be made as soon as this principle finds a rigorous application; and the subject opened up is so vast that in these remarks I can do no more than sketch out a few of the directions along which it would seem that fruitful conclusions are readily to be attained.

Although the importance of feeling in the moulding of our judgements, beliefs, and conduct, has for centuries been recognised by poets and writers, academic psychology has usually allotted to it a very subordinate position in relation to what may be called the ‘intellectual processes.’ Of late years, however, more and more recognition has been given to the importance of feeling; until now one may fairly question whether there exist any mental processes in the formation and direction of which feeling does not play a part of the first rank, and the science of feeling psychology, to which Professor Freud has devoted himself, shews every sign of becoming the only scientific psychology of the future. He has shewn with convincing precision that a number of previously incomprehensible mental processes, such as dream formation and certain apparently meaningless and accidental happenings of daily life, are throughout to be explained by regarding them as problems of feeling. He has further shewn that the causes of these mental processes are usually not only unsuspected by the individual concerned, but are repudiated and denied by him when the very existence of them is suggested. In other words, there exist elaborate psychological mechanisms, the effect of which is to conceal from the individual certain feeling processes, which are often of the highest significance to his whole mind. The complexity and subtlety of these mechanisms vary with what may be called the extent of the necessity for concealment, so that the greater the resistance the individual shews to the acceptance of the given feeling, the more elaborate is the mechanism whereby it is concealed from his consciousness. Consideration of this fact from a sceptical point of view should make one entertain the possibility that, even among practical psychologists, a number of mental processes may take their origin from sources widely different from those commonly given as explanatory of them.

The concealment mechanisms may be studied in two ways. The known feeling processes may be traced from their origin to the changed form in which they appear in consciousness, and their effect on associated mental processes thus observed; or a given mental process may be analysed, and its causes traced back to their elementary sources. Study along these lines shews that, although the mechanisms in question are both numerous and complex, they may from one point of view be grouped into two classes, according to whether the individual will offer an explanation as to the origin of the terminal mental process or not. In both classes enquiry into the source of the mental process is stopped and the individual regards any such enquiry as superfluous—in the one case because he already has an explanation, in the other case because he thinks one does not exist. As will presently be seen, there is no sharp line between the two classes, and in both of them instances may be found of all kinds of mental processes, actions, judgements, memories, beliefs, etc.

The prominent characteristic of the second dass is the fact that the individual considers the given mental process to be self-explanatory, and regards any further enquiry into its origin as being absurd, irrelevant, meaningless, unnecessary, and, above all, fruitless. This, broadly speaking, is the mechanism that prevents the individual from becoming conscious of the source of the mental process. His precise attitude towards the enquiry varies somewhat according to the kind of mental process concerned, and this enables us further to subdivide the class into two.

When a person is asked what was the cause of a given mental process belonging to this class, he may in the first place categorically assert that it was causeless. Such is the usual attitude adopted towards any of the large group of unconscious and accidental occurrences described by Professor Freud in his ‘Psychopathologie des Alltagslebens,’ under the different sections of Versprechen, Verschreiben, Vergreifen, Zufallshandlungen, etc. If pressed, the individual may assert vaguely that they are due to ‘chance’ or ‘inattention’; but it is plain that what he means is that they have no effective cause, and that there is no reason whatever why that particular mistake should have been made rather than any other. Yet, as is well known, psycho-analysis always reveals a precise cause for the occurrence, shewing that only it and no other could have arisen, as, indeed, might have been anticipated from the general principles of scientific determinism; and this cause is often associated with some of the most intimate of the individual’s feeling processes.

The person may in the second place not so much solemnly deny that the occurrence had a cause as regard the question as being foolish or meaningless. The key to the interpretation of this attitude lies in recollecting the popular illusion that a volitional process is a self-caused one—i.e., has no cause—for it is doubtful whether anyone is entirely free from the taint of voluntarism in feeling, although the heretical nature of the fallacy itself is, from an intellectual standpoint, plain enough. The mental processes now under discussion are thus always volitional ones, though the volitional element may not always be evident at the time, but may be imported as an afterthought. A beautiful example of this class, in which the volitional element was prominent at the moment of occurrence, is the one given by Adler, in which an individual deliberately selected a number under the full impression that there was no mental process at work other than his free unfettered choice; psycho-analysis, however, revealed a complex series of causes which had determined precisely the number chosen, causes reaching into the most intimate part of his mind.¹ Careful consideration of this example shews further that there were two groups of mental processes concerned—first, a conscious determination to select a number, and, secondly, the actual selection itself. The former was a volitional process, caused by the reading of Professor Freud’s book; the second an automatic process, caused by the subconscious feeling processes revealed in the psycho-analysis. Yet both groups appeared equally volitional to the individual, the feeling of volition having been extended from the conscious mental process to the automatic one that was associated with it. The same mechanism may be seen in the other cases in which the volitional element is imported as an afterthought. If, for example, a person decides to take a stroll, the actual direction of his stroll may well be determined by various minor influences that pass unnoticed. If later he is asked why he walked down such-and-such a street, the probability is that he will simply answer, ‘Because I decided to.’ Here also the slightest trace of volitional feeling is utilised to cover other associated mental processes. In a large number of routine acts, performed automatically, the individual adopts the same attitude when questioned as to their cause. Many acts, the cause of which is a reflex obedience to the custom prevailing in his circle, he will regard when questioned as being volitional, the true cause being thus concealed from him. If, for instance, he is asked why he wears a stiff collar or a tie, he will certainly regard the question as being extremely foolish, though if he is in an indulgent mood he may humour one to the extent of giving some imaginary explanation, such as ‘to keep warm,’ ‘to look respectable,’ etc. It is quite plain that he does so only to please the enquirer, and to his mind the real and final explanation of the act lies in its obviousness. The fact that he regards the question as to the origin of the mental process as essentially absurd is evidently because he considers there is no need to search for a cause in an action that he likes to think is volitional—i.e., self-caused.

We thus soon come to a full stop in the case of the ordinary man, but in the case of an observer who has trained himself to introspective analysis we can get this further clue. Such an observer may quite well recognise that there is something behind the volitional process, though he cannot directly detect what it is. If, for instance, he essays spontaneously to choose a number, he discovers that he is not free to choose any number; one number alone comes, and not as one of many alternatives; it comes with a certain impulsive force, and he has no option but to ‘choose’ this one number. In other words, he can recognise that it comes to him apparently from without and it is clear to him that it must have been determined by some hidden influence to which he has no direct access. A striking illustration of this mechanism, together with an analysis of the source of the mental process, is described by Professor Freud in relation to his ‘choice’ of the name ‘Dora’ to designate the heroine of his ‘Bruchstück-Analyse.’

Summing up this class of mental processes, therefore, we may say that whenever an individual considers a given process as being too obvious to permit of any investigation into its origin, and shews resistance to such an investigation, we are right in suspecting that the actual origin is concealed from him—almost certainly on account of its unacceptable nature. Reflection shews that this criterion applies to an enormous number of our fixed beliefs—religious, ethical, political, and hygienic, as well as to a great part of our daily conduct; in other words, the principle above quoted refers to a large sphere of mental processes where we least suspect it. Yet if such beliefs and conduct are to be brought into scientific harmony, it is of the highest importance that the mechanisms controlling them should be made the subject of precise study in a way that is as yet only just begun.

We return now to the first great class of mental processes, in regard to which the individual proffers indeed an explanation, but a false one. It is not sharply divided from the other class we have considered, for there we saw examples in which the individual casually gave an obviously inadequate explanation for an act which to his mind really needed none. Indeed, all possible grades may be observed in what may be called the-feeling of a necessity to provide an explanation. On enquiring into the source of this necessity, we see that it is only another aspect of the necessity everyone feels to have what may be called a theory of life, and particularly a theory of himself. Everyone feels that, as a rational creature, he must be able to give a connected, logical, and continuous account of himself, his conduct, and opinions, and all his mental processes are unconsciously manipulated and revised to that end. No one will admit that he ever deliberately performed an irrational act, and any act that might appear so is immediately justified by distorting the mental processes concerned and providing a false explanation that has a plausible ring of rationality. This justification bears a special relation to the prevailing opinion of the circle of people who are most significant to the individual concerned, and two different groups of false explanations can be distinguished, according as they are formed essentially for the individual himself or for him in special reference to the opinions of his circle, or, roughly speaking, according as they are formed mainly for private or mainly for public consumption. The former of these I would term ‘evasions,’ the latter ‘rationalisations’; there is, however, no sharp line dividing the two, and perhaps it would be better to employ the latter term for both processes.

We may now consider a couple of examples of these. One of the best instances of evasion is the form of religious belief chosen by an individual. Religious belief itself rests of course on psychological principles very different from those now under discussion, but the form of doctrine accepted is another matter. There are a number of arguments used by each sect to support its special view of religion, and as a rule these are as convincing to the members of the given sect as they are unconvincing to the members of other sects. Let us take the case of a man brought up in a close circle, family and otherwise, of Baptists. At the age of puberty he may become a Baptist without thinking twice about the matter, but it often occurs to such a man that it is an irrational and therefore distasteful thing to hold a belief merely because all his friends do so. He therefore embarks with a great shew of reason upon what seems to him to be a critical and dispassionate examination of the evidence for and against Baptism. It need hardly be said that in most cases such an individual is strongly prejudiced in favour of Baptism, and is so deeply persuaded in his subconsciousness of its truth that he is only seeking for the slightest pretext to become an open convert. The matter once settled, he then maintains that he has become convinced of the truth of his doctrine by the overwhelming force of the evidence in its favour, is highly offended if one bluntly says that he believes in Baptism simply because his father did, and passionately denies this true but unacceptable explanation. The origin of his belief is thus concealed from him by the mechanism of evasion. How different with an individual brought up in a Catholic environment! The same arguments that with the one man proved so efficacious may here be repeated with the most persuasive eloquence, and are rejected with scorn as being obviously fallacious. We see here that environmental influence may inculcate a given belief by the indirect way of raising the standard of acceptability of the arguments used in its favour; in other words, by making them appear more obviously sensible and reasonable to the individual. It will be an interesting question for the future to determine how many of our most firmly held opinions in the value of universal suffrage, of representative government, of marriage institutions, etc., are not similar examples of blind acceptance of the suggestive influence of our environment, fortified by the most elaborate evasions and rationalisations.

As an example of the allied mechanism of rationalisation, I will take the current use of valerian as a specific antidote for hysteria. It will be remembered that for many centuries asafœtida and valerian were administered on the grounds that hysteria was due to the wandering of the uterus about the body, and that evil-smelling drugs tended to drive it down to its proper position and thus cure the complaint. Although these assumptions have not been upheld by experience, nevertheless at the present day most cases of hysteria are still treated by these drugs. Evidently the operating influence that leads to their administration is the blind response to a prevailing tradition, the origin of which is largely forgotten. But the necessity of teachers of neurology to provide reasons to students for their treatment has led to the explanation being invented that the drugs act as ‘antispasmodics’—whatever that may mean—and they are often given in the following refined form: One of the constituents of valerian—valerianic acid—is given the name of ‘active principle,’ and is administered, usually as the zinc salt, sugar-coated so as to disguise its unpleasant taste. Some modern authorities, aware of the origin of the treatment, have even remarked how curious it is that the ancients, in spite of their false views about hysteria, should have discovered a valuable line of treatment and have given such an absurd explanation of its action. This continuous rationalisation, in the face of the knowledge that the process in the past was irrational, is often seen, a well-known example being the Last Supper explanation of the Mass and Communion, in spite of the recognised theophagic origin of the rite—that is to say, present-day exponents often plume themselves on their superior rational behaviour while performing the identical acts that they deride as irrational in their forbears. It is difficult to see to what further lengths self-deception can go once the beaten path of experience and the scientific standard of verifiability are departed from; and yet I hold it probable that many of our beliefs now thought to be beyond suspicion will prove to be just as bizarre as soon as the searchlight of scepticism is turned on them.

My aim in these few remarks has been to illustrate from what diverse sides Professor Freud’s principle may be supported, and to indicate What a vast field there yet remains for it to be applied over. We are beginning to see man not as the smooth, self-acting agent he pretends to be, but as he really is—a creature only dimly conscious of the various influences that mould his thought and action, and blindly resisting with all the means at his command the forces that are making for a higher and fuller consciousness. In conclusion I would point out that future studies in this direction must give us the secret to the formation of opinion and belief, and the methods whereby these can be controlled. This will yield practical help in the knowledge of how best to promulgate ideas that are in themselves unacceptable, for the day is past when psychologists are justified in still sharing the common illusion of mankind that the best way to spread an opinion is simply to state and restate the evidence in its favour, under the pious belief that sooner or later it will surely be accepted if only it is true. We now know that that method is not only tedious, but often permanently unsuccessful. These are unquestionably true ideas that mankind has had the opportunity of accepting for two or three thousand years, but which will never be accepted until they are promulgated with the aid of the knowledge now being gleaned by the new school of psychology.

¹ Read at the First International Psycho-Analytic Congress, April 27, 1908. Published in the Journal of Abnormal Psychology, vol. iii., No. 2.

¹ A similar instance is detailed in Chapter III.

CHAPTER II

FREUD’S PSYCHOLOGY

¹

THE difficulties inherent in the subject of an essay are frequently mentioned in the introductory sentences by way of excuse for the deficiencies of the exposition. In the present case they are of so peculiar a nature that to mention them here will also serve another purpose—namely, to indicate some of the general aspects of the subject.

The first difficulty—one that necessarily occurs in presenting the views of any progressive thinker—resides in the fact that Freud’s views have in the past twenty years undergone a continuous evolution. Most writers who have expounded them (Jung, Baroncini, Schultz, etc.) have therefore elected to describe them in terms of their historical development, a course which, while lending greater accuracy, has obvious disadvantages, particularly for readers not familiar with the subject. As, however, the later modifications in Freud’s views have mainly concerned clinical subjects, such as the ætiology of hysteria and the technique of the psycho-analytic method, with which we are not now concerned, it will here be possible to choose the alternative course of attempting to give a more general review of his psychology as a whole.

The second and far weightier difficulty is that Freud’s psychology signifies a great deal more than the formulation of a series of new conclusions or the announcement of new discoveries, important as these may be; it involves a radical change in our attitude towards the questions of the structure and functioning of the mind. If, therefore, Freud’s views are substantiated by later investigations, they betoken an event of peculiar and far-reaching significance to psychology in general. It is notoriously harder to convey a new attitude or point of view than mere conclusions, or even facts; and yet in regard to our judgement it is a more important matter, for a given conclusion that may appear improbable enough from one point of view is seen in quite a different aspect from another. A corollary of this consideration is that Freud has not only dealt with previously discussed questions—e.g., dream interpretation and the psychology of wit—but has explained what previously had hardly been thought to be a problem at all—e.g., the cause of infantile amnesia, the meaning of various absent-minded and other acts in everyday life, etc.

The third difficulty—one really implicit in the last—is that the applications of Freud’s psychology are exceedingly diverse, so that the range of subjects included is very extensive. He has, for instance, given explanations for problems so remote from one another as the origin of myths, the choice of a profession, the sources of artistic creativeness, and the tendency to superstitious beliefs. Of only a few of the subjects, however, has he given any complete or systematic exposition, and the extent to which his principles can be applied refers more to deductions, usually fairly obvious, that follow from these. His expositions are thronged with suggestive hints, of which some are more, some less developed, that are at present being acted on and expanded by both himself and the members of his school. Again, the way in which these different subjects are intimately bound up with one another makes it very difficult to present some without the others. Much of the cogency of Freud’s arguments is derived from the astonishing confirmation and mutual support that the application of them receives from widely different fields of study, such as psycho-pathology, dreams, wit, mythology, and everyday life. Just as the true significance of Darwin’s suggestions became evident only when their fruitfulness was realised in such different fields as palæontology, comparative morphology, and embryology, so do Freud’s hypotheses become irresistibly convincing when one appreciates their capacity to illuminate spheres of human activity that at first sight appear to be remote and unconnected. This third difficulty, the extensiveness of Freud’s principles, is one reason why the present exposition can be nothing but the roughest and crudest sketch of the subject indicated in the title of this paper.

Freud is primarily a man of science rather than a philosopher. In philosophy he would perhaps most nearly be classified as accepting scientific idealism, as represented by Earl Pearson, with strong sympathies for the Humanism of F. G. S. Schiller. This is well illustrated by his attitude to such a question as the psychophysical relations of consciousness, or of mental processes in general. He uses the term ‘conscious’ to denote all the mental processes of which a person is aware, distinctly or indistinctly, at a given moment. Not sharply marked off from these are the preconscious (vorbewusste) memories, of which a person is not at a given moment necessarily aware, but which can be fairly readily and spontaneously recalled. Unconscious memories are those that cannot be spontaneously recalled by the subject, but which can be evoked by the use of special methods (hypnosis, psycho-analysis, etc.).¹ As we shall presently see, Freud holds that processes of the most complex kind may occur without ever becoming conscious. He is content with this practical finding, and leaves quite open the question as to whether they are of a mental or physical nature. Referring, for instance, to the unconscious occurrence of dissociation between an idea and its accompanying affect, he says: ‘Vielleicht wäre es richtiger zu sagen: Dies sind überhaupt nicht Vorgänge psychischer Natur, sondern physische Vorgänge, deren psychische Folge sich so darstellt, als wäre das durch die Redensarten: Trennung der Vorstellung von ihrem Affekt . . . Ausgedrückte wirklich geschehen.’ [‘It would perhaps be more correct to say: These processes are altogether not of a psychical nature, but are physical processes, the psychical consequences of which are so represented as if what is expressed in the phrase separation of the idea from its affect had really occurred.’] Leaving, however, the philosophical aspects of the subject, he empirically accepts the obvious fact that it is impossible to describe the processes in question except in mental terms, and so continues to treat of them as if they were mental. Another justification for this he sees in the continuity that experience establishes between conscious and unconscious processes, which are related to each other in every respect except in the one matter of awareness; the resemblances between them thus far outweigh in importance the differences.

It will be convenient shortly to consider some of Freud’s more general and fundamental principles before mentioning their applications. Of these the following seven will be selected, admittedly an arbitrary choice:

1. In the first place, Freud attributes to psychical events a rigorous determinism, the word being used in its scientific rather than in its philosophic sense. Psychical processes are never isolated or accidental phenomena, but are as precisely related to preceding ones as are successive physical events; there is no more room for ‘chance’ in the mental world than in the physical one. Starting from this point of view he developes his psycho-analytic method, on which are based practically all his conclusions. He maintains that, when a subject is asked to make free associations from a given theme to which he is attending, and wholly to suspend the active criticism that under such circumstances is instinctively exercised towards the incoming thoughts, the associations must be directly or indirectly related, in a causative manner, to the initial theme. The connection between this and the associations that occur are often not at all realised by the subject; for this, however, there are special and definite reasons that will presently be indicated. Discussion of the psychological principles involved in the use of psycho-analysis, as well as of other allied topics, must be reserved for a further paper.

2. Freud’s views concerning affective processes shew certain important deviations from those currently accepted. He tentatively states as a working hypothesis that ‘there is to be distinguished in psychical functions something (amount of affect, sum of excitations) which has all the attributes of a quantity—although we have as yet no means of measuring it—something capable of being increased, diminished, displaced, or carried off, and which spreads itself over the memory traces of ideas, rather like an electric charge over the surface of the body.’ The two words in brackets (Affektbetrag, Erregungsumme) indicate that the property in question can be described in either psychological or physiological terms. Indeed, he regards it as something essentially centrifugal in nature, in that it constantly tends to discharge its psycho-motor energy—characteristically by means of bodily expression—in a manner analogous to motor and secretory processes. Most significant, however, is the assumption that it has a certain autonomy, so that it can become released from the idea to which it was primarily attached, thus entering into new psychical systems and producing wide-reaching effects. This displacement of affect from one idea to another Freud denotes as transference (Uebertragung), and says that the second idea may in a sense be termed a representative of the first. A simple illustration of the process is when a girl transfers the affective process properly belonging to the idea of a baby to that of a doll, and washes, clothes, fondles and cares for the doll, and even takes it to bed with her or makes attempts to feed it, thus treating it in all possible respects as she would a baby. An equally familiar observation is the behaviour of a spinster towards a pet animal. In Browning’s ‘The Last Ride Together,’ the same mechanism is beautifully seen: the hero, failing in his ambition to win his mistress, consoles himself with the enjoyment of their last ride, and gradually exalts the significance of this until in a final ecstasy he imagines not only that it is an adequate replacement of his former aim, but that it represents the highest bliss that can be attained on earth or in heaven.

3. Connected with his views on affective processes is the emphasis Freud lays on the dynamic nature of mental processes in general. This is best described in terms of the scheme by means of which he depicts the structure of the mind. This scheme he proposes in the most tentative way as merely a working hypothesis, expressly disclaiming any likelihood of mistaking the scaffolding of a theory for the building that will later be erected. Taking the analogy of a microscope or telescope, the theory of which makes use of ideal localities in space, he developes the notion of psychical locality. The mind is a complex reflex apparatus or system, with a seat of entry at one extremity and of discharge at the other. The former is of course the sensorial extremity, the latter the motor. Every mental process tends to set up a movement from one end of the apparatus to the other. To begin with is the perception in its sensorial form; this is not fixed as such, but farther on in the system in the form of a ‘memory trace.’ The farther forward the process moves, the greater is the extent to which it becomes associated with others; at first the association is of a superficial kind (clang, etc.), later on it is of a higher order (similarity, co-ordination, etc.). A mental process is recalled not in its primary perceptive form, but as a ‘memory trace.’ Accompanying every mental process is a varying amount of psychical energy, which roughly corresponds with what we term the affect. Excessive accumulation of this energy results in a tension that is experienced as discomfort (Unlust), and there is a constant tendency towards the discharge of this energy (Abführ). The discharge is experienced as pleasure, as relief, or gratification (Befriedigungserlebnis).

The way in which the relief is brought about differs in complexity in the young child and older persons. The infant finds by experience that satisfaction of a given need—e.g., hunger—is associated with a certain perception—e.g., the sight of food. The recurrence of this need therefore brings with it the desire to reproduce the perception associated with satisfaction of it. It is possible that at first this may occur by ‘regression’ of mental processes so that a hallucinatory perception is produced. Experience, however, soon teaches that this method is inadequate to still the need, and that in their capacity in this respect there is an important difference between perceptions externally evoked and those internally evoked. Internal perceptions are adequate only when they are durable, as in the hallucinations of the psychoses. The psychical energy corresponding with the need therefore sets in action further groups of mental processes, the function of which is to modify the environment in such a way as to bring about an externally evoked perception of the kind desired; for instance, the child cries until it is fed. The regressive tendency to reproduce the primary perception by internal means Freud terms the primary process (Primärvorgang). The secondary process, which inhibits this tendency and directs the energy into more complex paths, is the work of a second and quite different psychical system. All the complicated thought processes that ocour, from the memory picture to the psycho-motor mechanisms that result in changing the environment so as to bring about the repetition of the desired perception, constitute merely a détour, which experience has shewn is necessary in order to produce the wish fulfilment. These two systems, which are already present at an early age, form the nucleus for what later becomes the unconscious and preconscious respectively.

4. The subject of ‘psychical repression’ (Verdrängung), which plays such an important part in all Freud’s writings, may be considered as a direct continuation of the previously mentioned one concerning the relation between the primary and secondary systems, though it is less hypothetical in nature. The fundamental regulating mechanisms of mental processes are the tendencies to seek pleasure by bringing about relief from psychical tension, and to avoid pain by preventing accumulation of psychical energy. These strivings, which have a more or less definite aim, constitute a wish in the broad sense of the term. When, now, this wish cannot for various reasons be gratified, the tendency of the psychical energy to discharge itself is inhibited, a local damming up takes place, and the mental process in question loses its former power of making free associations. It in this way forms a circumscribed ‘complex,’ to use Jung’s term. Under these circumstances the secondary system cannot make use of the energy of that portion of the primary system, for to do so would only result in the evocation of discomfort (Unlust) and it is a chief function of the secondary system to avoid this whenever possible. We have here, then, all the conditions for an intrapsyohical conflict, and Freud maintains that, when a mental process is the seat of a competition of opposing affects, blocking (Sperrung) of the usual associative activities occurs and the mental process becomes shut off or dissociated. This ostrich-like function of the secondary system therefore results in exclusion of the pain-producing mental process from consciousness. In daily life this mechanism is extraordinarily frequent and shews itself in many ways, the simplest of which is the disinclination for being reminded of disagreeable occurrences we would rather forget.

‘Normal’ and ‘abnormal’ conscious mental events differ only quantitatively, not qualitatively, both proceeding by the same mechanisms of the same psychical apparatus. In both cases the energy of the unconscious mental process (i.e., the wish) is directed into the complex conscious paths according to the principle of pleasure and pain, the chief difference between the two being that the discharge of energy in the ‘abnormal’ case takes place by a more circuitous and unusual route than in the ‘normal’ case. In both cases consciousness exerts a ‘censor’ influence over the dynamic process, allowing it to find expression only in certain definite ways. The characteristic function of consciousness is the exercise of this censor influence. Consciousness may be compared with a sense organ, in that it allows the perception and differentiation of psychical qualities. Its action differs from that of a sense organ in that it is concerned with the perception not only of externally produced stimuli, but also of internal psychical processes. It is probable that between preconscious and conscious processes a censor action is also interposed, of the same kind as that between unconscious and pro-conscious processes.

5. The manifestation of abnormally repressed mental processes is to be understood only by consideration of the action of intrapsychical conflict. As has already been said, conflict between two tendencies or wishes results in a blocking and dissociation of the mental process concerned. The direct route into consciousness is impeded and the energy passes into a circuitous side-path. The direction thus taken is, however, rigorously determined by preceding psychological and physiological factors. The energy may become linked either with other mental processes or with physical ones. In the first case, the affect accompanying a given idea, which, being dissociated, is incapable of becoming conscious (bewusstseineunfahig), becomes transferred to another one which is assimilable in consciousness (the process known as Uebertragung). This is the typical mechanism underlying the production of obsessions and most phobias. An insistent impulse to think of a non-permitted subject shews itself by an obsessive thought about another, associated, but more acceptable one. The passage from the one idea to the other occurs through one of the well-known forms of mental association, usually a lower form, such as extrinsic, and particularly clang associations. Brill¹ narrates an instance in which a patient, possessed with licentious impulse relating to a dog, suffered from an apparently innocent obsessive thought concerning God.

In the second case the energy finds an outlet in some somatic manifestation, a process Freud terms ‘conversion.’ This is the characteristic mechanism underlying hysterical troubles, where a given bodily symptom, such as a tremor or an aphonia, is the expression of a repressed mental complex. Here also, as in the purely mental field, the actual direction taken by the discharging energy is determined by the existence of performed associations, such as the usual physical accompaniments of emotion, and the occurrence is favoured by an unusual degree of readiness of the physical response (somatisches Entgegenkommen).

In both cases the formation of the unusual associations, which permit the circuitous discharge of psychical energy, takes place outside consciousness, and the subject quite fails to apprehend the significance of the end manifestation, or the connection between it and the primary mental process. Yet the mental events that precede the manifestation may be of the most complex order, fully as much so as conscious ones.

6. Stress should be laid on the importance Freud attaches to infantile mental processes. He regards the mental processes, and particularly the wishes, of early childhood life as the permanent basis for all later development. Unconscious mental life is indestructible, and the intensity of its wishes does not fade. Wishes and interests of later acquirement are chiefly significant in so far as they ally themselves with those of childhood life, though the association is of course not a conscious one. A great number of the reactions of adult life owe their real force to the adjuvant impulse contributed by the unconscious. Freud, therefore, looks upon the whole of a subject’s mental life as a continuity, as a series of associated trends. The appearance of complete discontinuity that it so often presents is an illusion, due to the ignorance of the preceding unconscious influences. For instance, a person may at the age of twenty have his attention for the first time directed in a given line of interest, and may in consequence of this choose a profession and determine his life’s career; but the real reason why be reacts in this way to the external influence is that it corresponds with, and becomes associated to, deeper unconscious trends that arose in early childhood life. These views naturally have great importance in their bearing on education,¹ for it is substantially maintained that the main traits of character are permanently determined for good or ill before the end of the fifth year of life. Freud holds in general that owing to our ignorance of the most important mental processes of early childhood, and our own personal amnesia for this period, the significance for later life of these early trends is vastly underestimated.

The amnesia for early mental processes is even greater than is generally supposed, for not only is much actually forgotten, but a selection takes place of such a kind that only the least significant part is remembered. Thus the actual memory for this period is even less valuable than it appears. Further than this, our childhood memories are also less trustworthy than they appear, for later falsifications, distortions, and inventions, arising particularly in the conscious and unconscious phantasies of puberty, impair the reliability of them to a much greater extent than is generally known; it should, however, be added that the technique of psycho-analysis usually enables one to differentiate between an accurate recollection and a falsified one. This infantile amnesia is, according to Freud, not a natural, physiological process, needing no explanation. He considers that, were it not for our extreme familiarity with its happening, we should regard it as by no means so obvious and comprehensible as we at present do. For him it is a curious problem that calls as urgently for solution as that of other less familiar mental events. The cause of the amnesia he sees in the psychical repression that plays so large a part in early education. Children come to the world with potential trends and desires which are innocent enough at an early age, but which are of such a kind that the gratification of them is highly unacceptable to adult standards. Early training largely consists in weaning the child from these desires and directing his mind towards other interests, a process Freud terms ‘sublimation.’ The primitive trends themselves, such as egotistic enjoyment without regard for others, concern with certain bodily functions, and so on, have to be suppressed, and the mental processes representing them are repressed and become unconscious. This, however, is not effected without a certain cost to the individual, and amongst other penalties paid is the amnesia for infantile mental life. As in other cases, such as, for instance, with hysteric posttraumatic retrograde amnesia, the memories lost are not only those that directly concern the thoughts and wishes now invested with painful and guilty feeling, but also those that are in any way—e.g., in time—associated with these. Further, as was above pointed out, although the desires in question have been repressed into the unconscious, they lose none of their dynamic functions, and, when the sublimation process is not sufficiently potent to provide an outlet for the accompanying psychical energy, other paths of discharge have to be forged, of a kind that for practical reasons are called ‘pathogenic’ It is in this way that psychoneurotic symptoms arise, which thus represent in a disguised form the gratification of repressed wishes. The chief difference between the indirect expression of an unconscious wish by means of a neurotic symptom and that by means of a sublimated activity is that the latter is useful for social aims, whereas the former is harmful both socially and to the individual.

7. The part of Freud’s psychology that has aroused most opposition is his attitude regarding the significance of psycho-sexual trends. We are not here concerned with the nature of this opposition, which arises partly from a misconception of Freud’s own views, and partly as a result of the peculiarly heavy social ban that is laid on certain aspects of the subject. It should in the first place be stated that he applies the term ‘sexual’ far more broadly than is customary, and thus includes under it functions that are not generally considered to be of a sexual nature. He does this, however, not in order to distort the usual connotation of the term, but because he finds by experience that many psychical manifestations not commonly thought to be derivatives of the sexual instinct are in fact so. He thus extends, not the connotation of the word ‘sexual,’ but the conceptions denoted by it. A little reflection makes it evident that, even if the term is by definition made to refer only to tendencies that have to do with the reproductive instinct, it is impossible to confine it to impulses that directly tend to bring about the reproductive act. For instance, no one with any experience of such a ‘perversion’ as fetishism would refuse to call this ‘sexual’ in the full meaning of the term, although from its very nature it expresses a negation of the reproductive act; the same is true of ordinary masturbation. Even more normal manifestations, which anthropologists have shewn to be derivatives of the sexual instinct—such as shame, cruelty, etc.—are by no means obviously tendencies that favour the consummation of this act, although it may be true that they are indirectly connected with reproduction. On precisely similar grounds Freud holds it justifiable to apply the term ‘sexual’¹ to mental processes which, like shame, derive their origin from the sexual instinct, and the only reason why his application of the term is more extensive than that of other writers is that, by his psycho-analytic investigation of the unconscious, he has been able to trace to this origin a number of processes that at first sight do not appear to be connected with it. He has striven to free himself from the prejudice that refuses to recognise the sexual nature of a mental process until this is made so obvious as to be quite indisputable, and he points out how deeply rooted in the human mind is this prejudice.

These preliminary considerations may be thus summarised: Freud lays stress on the dynamic aspects of mental processes, and sees in the tendency of the affects to seek discharge of their tension the motive force determining the flow of mental life; he expresses this in terms of wishes. He holds that unconscious mental life is rich and complex, and by the interaction between it and consciousness explains the apparent discontinuity of conscious processes, thus adopting a deterministic attitude towards intuitive and apparently spontaneous mental events. Much of this interaction depends on the result of conflicts between various psychical trends, some of these undergoing repression, so that they can be manifested only along indirect channels. He attributes fundamental importance to the repressed wishes of early childhood life and to the psychosexual systems of activities.

We may now shortly consider some of the fields in which Freud has applied the foregoing principles, and it will be convenient to begin with the subject last mentioned—namely, Sexuality. In the first place, Freud holds that the mental processes commonly called ‘sexual,’ which bear a relatively precise relation to reproduction, are the outcome of a development from a broader group of processes in earlier life, of which certain ones have become selected and intensified, while others have become suppressed. In the child are a number of sexual dispositions, the functioning of which notably differs from that of adult sexual processes, and the later development of which is subject to the greatest variability. A clearer view of these early dispositions is obtained by considering the different kinds of adult sexual perversions. Freud draws a distinction between the sexual object, the source