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PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 
 
PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 
 
 BY 
 
 R. H. HINGLEY B.A. 
 
 RESEARCH STUDENT IN PSYCHOLOGY AT EDINBURGH UNIVERSITY 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY 
 
 1922 
 
*$ 
 
 am. 
 
.' 
 
 PREFACE 
 
 THE main purpose of this book is to give the 
 general reader a plain account of psycho- 
 analysis, in the belief that insight into its 
 principles will afford the ordinary educated person 
 invaluable help in facing the problems of life. It is 
 hoped, however, that the student who is desirous of 
 making a thorough study of the subject will find it a 
 reliable and helpful introduction. To this end sugges- 
 tions have been made in various parts of the book for 
 further reading. In addition to the works of Freud 
 himself, the works of Jung, Jones, Brill and Pfister may 
 be mentioned as providing very valuable help. The 
 last mentioned, in his " Psycho-analytic Method " has 
 dealt with the subject from the pedagogic standpoint, 
 and should, therefore, make a special appeal to those 
 interested in education. 
 
 A word about the method of this book is necessary. 
 The aim has been to treat the subject in the spirit of 
 sympathetic criticism, but criticism has been strictly 
 subordinated to exposition. The usual tendency of the 
 leaders of the movement has been to expound the sub- 
 ject as the mechanics of psychic energy. This has 
 aroused considerable opposition from the so-called 
 " orthodox psychologist." I have endeavoured to 
 meet this by treating the subject from the standpoint of 
 the psychology of unconscious tendencies. But the 
 main concern has been to give a faithful account of the 
 Freudian doctrine, though the divergencies of the rival 
 school of Zurich led by Dr. Jung have not been over- 
 looked. 
 
vi PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 
 
 The last two chapters, and especially the last, should 
 be regarded rather as speculative essays in application. 
 They should not be regarded as practical programmes 
 to which psycho-analysis is in any way committed. 
 Readers unacquainted with psychology should not be 
 unduly discouraged if they find some difficulties in the 
 first chapter. 
 
 A glossary of special terms is appended for the readers 
 convenience. 
 
 For whatever sound psychological insight is to be 
 found in this book I am indebted to Dr. Drever of Edin- 
 burgh University. But this does not imply that the 
 opinions expressed are necessarily shared by him. To 
 my wife, also, I am indebted for invaluable help in many 
 ways. 
 
 1921. R. H. H. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 I. THE " NEW PSYCHOLOGY " - I 
 
 II. ORIGIN AND DEVELOPMENT OF PSYCHO- 
 ANALYSIS - - - 16 
 
 III. DREAMS - - - - 23 
 
 Wish-fulfilment Theory — Manifest and 
 Latent Content — Dream Analysis by 
 Free Association — Censorship and Re- 
 pression — Repression, Dissociation and 
 Forgetting — Fear Dreams — Sources of 
 Dreams — Dream Work — Jung's Theory 
 
 IV. THE NATURE OF THE UNCONSCIOUS - $J 
 
 Types of Unconscious Tendency — 
 Rationalization — Tendencies : Modes of 
 Activity — Pleasure-Pain Principle and 
 Reality Principle — Conflict of Tendencies 
 — Instinctive Tendencies 
 
 V. THE CONTROL OF THE UNCONSCIOUS - 97 
 
 Psycho-Catharsis and Abreaction — 
 Transference and Overcoming of Re- 
 sistance — Auto- Analysis — Auto-Suggestion 
 
 VI. THE PSYCHO-PATHOLOGY OF EVERYDAY LIFE Iig 
 
 VII. PSYCHO-ANALYSIS AND EDUCATION - 129 
 
 The Home — The School — Education 
 and Freedom — Sexual Education — 
 Sublimation 
 
 VIII. SOCIETY AND RELIGION - 158 
 
 The Social Ideal — The Social Misfit — 
 The Religious Ideal 
 
 GLOSSARY ... !86 
 
 INDEX - - - - - 187 
 
PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 THE " NEW PSYCHOLOGY " 
 
 THE " New Psychology " is an appellation which 
 has achieved a considerable measure of popularity 
 in recent times. But when we inquire more par- 
 ticularly as to the nature of the subject-matter referred 
 to, we find no little diversity of conception. It has been 
 used to indicate the attempt to apply experimental 
 methods to the elucidation of the problems of mental life 
 and the effort to achieve in that realm something of the 
 mathematical precision that is the pride and strength 
 of the physical sciences. It has been used to designate 
 a certain mixture of science, and esoteric speculation as 
 to the nature and destiny of the soul. It has been used 
 as a convenient term to refer to the work of those 
 psychologists, chiefly French and American, who have 
 devoted their energies to the investigation of the 
 subconscious. Finally the disciples of psycho-analysis 
 have not scorned such prestige as this title affords. 
 
 On the positive side then, the term " New Psycho- 
 logy " stands for no consistent and recognized system* 
 But on the negative side, all the movements and systems 
 above referred to are united by a common recognition 
 of the inadequacy of the " old psychology." 
 
 Let us examine this charge more carefully. It is 
 i i 
 
2 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 
 
 generally agreed that it is the function of psychology 
 to explain the nature and working of mental processes. 
 The different phases of consciousness, thought, feeling, 
 will, (or more accurately, the cognitive, affective and 
 conational aspects of experience) have been distinguished 
 and investigated. Sensations, perceptions, ideas and 
 reasoning have been examined with the utmost care. 
 Habit, memory, emotion and volition have been des- 
 cribed and analysed. The relation between mind and 
 body has been the subject of endless but indecisive 
 discussions. But to the ordinary lay mind we seem 
 very little nearer to the heart of the secret. Human 
 nature is still an unsolved mystery. 
 
 Now we are far from maintaining that the province 
 and aim of psychology should be dictated by the " man 
 in the street." But the psychology that creates a man 
 in its own image, and explains him to its own satis- 
 faction, like the " economic man " of the older Political 
 Economy, will scarcely succeed in establishing its claim 
 to the serious consideration of mankind. The explana- 
 tion of the development of space-perception may be 
 necessary and desirable, but we need a psychology that 
 can explain the " incompatible temperament " which 
 brings about so many divorces in America and so many 
 ruined homes in England. It is easy to assume the 
 r61e of moralist in this and a hundred other problems 
 of human behaviour. But condemnation is no explana- 
 tion. It is the business of psychology, not to pass 
 judgment but to explain. 
 
 At the same time we must remember that psychology 
 has made great advances. It is no longer engrossed 
 and exhausted in metaphysical speculations about the 
 nature of the soul. It no longer tries to explain human 
 activity by the universal formula of the " association 
 of ideas," or the Utilitarian conception of man's desire 
 for pleasure and aversion from pain. These ideas have 
 been so frequently examined and rejected during recent 
 years that we do not intend to spend further time in 
 
THE " NEW PSYCHOLOGY " 3 
 
 this discussion. They contain an element of truth, 
 which requires careful definition, but no psychologist of 
 the present day would accept these as providing any- 
 thing like an adequate explanation of the rich variety 
 of man's conduct and experience. Nevertheless, the 
 idea that man's action is determined by a rational 
 estimate of the balance of pleasure and pain has left 
 its mark on modern psychological theory. Long after 
 the Utilitarian theories had been rejected, the conception 
 of man as a rational being held far too exclusive sway. 
 Conduct was explained in terms of ideas and reason. 
 Emotions were regarded as a more or less unimportant 
 accompaniment of the cognitive processes. Feelings 
 were the camp followers of ideas. As for instincts, they 
 were regarded as the monopoly of the " lower animals." 
 Against this " over-intellectualism " we have to-day 
 a very marked revolt, that has gone so far, that Mr. 
 Graham Wallas, after taking part in the movement in 
 his " Human Nature and Politics," has felt compelled 
 in " The Great Society " to restore the despot Reason 
 to a limited monarchy. For ourselves, we believe that 
 the significance of the non-rational factors in mental 
 process has not yet been exhausted. Indeed it is only 
 just beginning to receive its meed of attention. This 
 revolt has been inspired primarily by the widening of 
 the province of psychology to embrace the behaviour 
 of the lower animals, and in the second place by the 
 consideration of the phenomena which are commonly 
 designated " subconscious." The work of Charles 
 Darwin is, of course, the foundation on which modern 
 comparative psychology is being built. But the linking 
 up of human and animal psychology owes perhaps more 
 to Dr. William McDougall than to any other thinker. 
 The popularity of his " Introduction to Social Psychol- 
 ogy " is not due merely to his lucid powers of exposition, 
 but also to the fact that he has succeeded in giving 
 his readers the conviction that he is dealing with a 
 real living mind, and not merely dissecting a corpse. 
 
4 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 
 
 According to McDougall the roots of human activity 
 are to be found in the Instincts. 
 
 What then is the nature of Instinct ? McDougall 
 has defined it as " an inherited or innate psycho-physical 
 disposition which determines its possessor to perceive, 
 and to pay attention to, objects of a certain class, to 
 experience an emotional excitement of a particular 
 quality upon perceiving such an object, and to act in 
 regard to it in a particular manner, or, at least, to 
 experience an impulse to such action." 1 
 
 The four things to note about an instinct then are : 
 
 (i) It is an inherited or innate mechanism. 2 It is 
 not peculiar to the individual but common to the species. 
 
 (2) This mechanism impels the individual to pay 
 special regard to some particular item or event in its 
 complex environment, e.g., an infant's interest in bright 
 and moving bodies. 
 
 (3) When the object is perceived the individual 
 experiences a special kind of emotion, e.g., fear, anger 
 or disgust, etc. 
 
 (4) The individual has an impulse to act in a parti- 
 cular manner — to run away, hide, fight, etc. 
 
 In the case of a pure instinct, that is, one which has 
 not been modified by experience or rational reflection, 
 there is apparently no foresight of the end. As an 
 example of a pure instinct we might take a bird building 
 its first nest. 
 
 Instincts are capable of modification through ex- 
 perience in the higher animals, and by rational reflection 
 as well in the case of man. An object or individual 
 
 1 W. McDougall, F.R.S. " An Introduction to Social 
 Psychology." 14th Edition, p. 29. The reader who wishes 
 to approach the study of psycho-analysis along sound psycho- 
 logical lines, could not be better advised in our opinion, than to 
 make a careful study of this book. 
 
 8 By this term we mean a more or less plastic mode of conscious 
 process working towards ends of which it is not aware. 
 
THE « NEW PSYCHOLOGY " 5 
 
 that is at first regarded with fear or anger, may come 
 to be regarded with curiosity and perhaps in the end 
 with love. Then again two instincts may be simul- 
 taneously stimulated. The result may be conflict, or 
 the fusion of the two into a new emotional attitude. 
 As an example of conflict we may take the behaviour 
 of a dog restrained by fear from leaping up to the table 
 at meal times. The conflict of the hunger and fear 
 impulses is revealed in his ill-concealed restlessness. 
 As an example of fusion we may take the emotional 
 attitude of admiration that a man manifests in presence 
 of a great work of art. Here, according to McDougall, 
 we have a fusion of the curiosity-wonder instinct and 
 the instinct of submission. 
 
 Through the interaction of these inborn dispositions 
 there is finally evolved in man selfconsciousness. Hence- 
 forth his conduct is determined in some measure at any 
 rate by preconceived and deliberately chosen ends. 
 The instincts are not dead, but they are to varying 
 degrees in different individuals modified by experience 
 and organized into a coherent whole. Thus " the 
 evolution of mind in the race," and in the individual, 
 according to McDougall, involves " progress from 
 predominantly mechanical to predominantly teleological 
 determination," that is, from the impulse of blind 
 instinct to the choice of rational foresight. 
 
 We have now sketched very briefly and most inade- 
 quately a theory of human behaviour formulated in the 
 light of the observations of comparative psychology. 
 There are two questions we must now ask. First, is 
 the theory adequate for the explanation of the phenom- 
 ena with which it deals, and second, has it taken into 
 account all the relevant phenomena ? To the first 
 question, the answer is, That it is the most satisfactory 
 solution that has yet been given. To the second 
 question the answer is, No. But before we ask what is 
 the nature of these excluded mental phenomena, we 
 are prepared, for ourselves, to admit the claim that 
 
6 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 
 
 McDougall in the preface to the 14th Edition of "An 
 Introduction to Social Psychology " makes, that this 
 theory is capable, without fundamental change, of such 
 adaption and extension as will cover the phenomena 
 in question. 
 
 But let us without further delay inquire what is the 
 nature of these phenomena. The second factor which 
 has been at work to bring about the present-day revolt 
 against " intellectualism " is the discovery of " sub- 
 conscious phenomena." In this field of inquiry France 
 has led the way. Charcot, Bernheim and Janet may 
 be mentioned as leading exponents of subconscious 
 theory in that country. This work has been aided and 
 advanced by American investigators, led by such men 
 as Morton Prince and Boris Sidis. The aim of McDougall 
 is to illuminate the problems of human psychology by 
 the help of animal psychology. Their task is to discover 
 what light can be thrown on the working of the normal 
 mind by the study of the abnormal. In this respect 
 they have a closer affinity with the psycho-analytical 
 mode of approach. The phenomena which have received 
 their special attention are automatism, crystal gazing, 
 suggestion, hypnotism, " double personality." It is 
 impossible here to give these fascinating subjects the 
 consideration they deserve. For this we must refer the 
 reader to the works of the authors themselves. 1 
 
 We can only state briefly the conclusions of this 
 school of inquiry as represented, for example, by Boris 
 Sidis in his " Psychology of Suggestion." After 
 examining the phenomena he comes to this conclusion — 
 that they can only be explained on the hypothesis of 
 subconsciousness. " Subconsciousness," he says, " is 
 not an unconscious psychological automatism ; it is a 
 
 1 " The Psychology of Suggestion/* Boris Sidis, 1898. 
 Appleton. 
 
 " Normal and Abnormal Psychology." Boris Sidis. 1914. 
 Duckworth. 
 
 " Dissociation of a Personality." Morton Prince. 1906. 
 New York. 
 
THE « NEW PSYCHOLOGY " 7 
 
 secondary consciousness, a secondary self." With regard 
 to this conclusion we wish first of all to remark that 
 it is a sound principle to seek the explanations of 
 psychical process, not by physiological but by psycho- 
 logical concepts. But we have now to ask — is this 
 hypothesis of a secondary consciousness both adequate 
 and necessary for the explanation of human experience 
 and activity. 
 
 How are such mental conditions as obsessions, 
 amnesias (forgettings), phobias, hysteria, etc., explained 
 by this theory of a secondary consciousness ? Sidis 
 claims that these conditions can be reproduced in the 
 psychological laboratory. The critical activities of the 
 self consciousness of the subjects are suspended under 
 the direction of the hypnotist, and in this way direct 
 access is obtained to the secondary consciousness, which 
 is amenable to suggestion in proportion to the degree 
 in which the critical faculties have ceased to operate. 
 In this state the various symptoms of the pathological 
 states can be suggested and will persist in the waking 
 state of full selfconsciousness. The explanation then is 
 found to be in the suggestibility of the subconscious. 
 We have still to ask, But how is the specific nature of 
 the obsession or fear to be accounted for ? In the 
 laboratory it is due to the hypnotist. To what is it 
 due in ordinary life ? The answer apparently is the 
 accidents of a man's history. A certain man has a 
 great fear of cats. This would be explained by some 
 incident in his career — when he, in a highly suggestible 
 moment, had some painful experience with a member 
 of the feline tribe. Such an explanation may be ade- 
 quate in many cases — especially in cases where the fear 
 was not permanent. But where the fear or obsession 
 is permanent this explanation will not suffice. For one 
 of the main criticisms of suggestion and hypnosis as 
 therapeutic agencies is their temporary effectiveness. 
 The effects of suggestion wear off. They may be 
 renewed by a repetition of similar experiences, and we 
 
8 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 
 
 are bound to acknowledge the effects of suggestion 
 increase with every repetition. But in the absence of 
 such renewals we must seek the cause of the trouble, 
 not in an accidental and isolated suggestion, or in the 
 general condition of suggestibility, but in some factor 
 that is more permanent. A second criticism we have 
 to pass on the theory of the subconscious is that it does 
 not provide an adequate explanation of those compli- 
 cated mental constructions that we find in hysteria, in 
 dreams, and in such products of social thought as we 
 have in the various mythologies. For the broad 
 differences that exist between such mental processes 
 and those of rational reflection it may account by the 
 principle of varying degrees of mental synthesis, but 
 for the specific nature of the experiences of a particular 
 dream it has no adequate explanation to offer. 
 
 Again we ask, Is the hypothesis of a secondary con- 
 sciousness absolutely necessary ? The discussion of 
 this question would involve us in the metaphysics of 
 identity. Into this question then we will not at present 
 further inquire, trusting that the more philosophically 
 minded of our readers will see that the question has 
 received consideration, if not explicit treatment, in the 
 conception of conscious activity which we shall en- 
 deavour shortly to explain. Meanwhile we shall content 
 ourselves with the assertion that each individual has 
 one consciousness and no more. Self consciousness, 
 subconsciousness, and " unconsciousness " are but 
 different modifications, or aspects of the same conscious 
 life. 
 
 But before we try to make clear what we mean by 
 this we must consider another theory of mental life that 
 has been advanced to explain the nature of human 
 experience. It is the one advanced by Prof. Freud of 
 Vienna, to whom psycho-analysis owes its discovery 
 and chief development. According to him, mind, or 
 the " psychic apparatus," as he calls it, may be con- 
 ceived of as consisting of three " psychic localities," 
 
THE * NEW PSYCHOLOGY " 9 
 
 namely, the conscious, the preconscious, and the 
 unconscious. What does Freud understand by these 
 terms ? This is a most important question if we are 
 to get anything like a clear conception of psycho- 
 analytical theory. The terms " conscious " and " un- 
 conscious " are ambiguous. For instance, we say of a 
 person in a dead faint that he is " unconscious," or of 
 an absent-minded or automatic action that it is " un- 
 conscious." But the word is obviously used in a 
 different sense in these two instances. Similarly with 
 the term " conscious." We attribute consciousness to 
 the lower animals in the belief that in varying degrees 
 they feel and perceive, and act accordingly. On the 
 other hand we may reserve the term for that awareness 
 of feeling, perceptions and actions which we believe 
 is the monopoly of man. It is in this sense that Freud 
 uses the term. For Freud, the conscious is that part 
 of our experience of which we are personally aware ; 
 the preconscious is that part of our experience of which 
 we can make ourselves personally aware by voluntary 
 attention ; the unconscious is that part of our experience 
 of which we cannot make ourselves personally aware 
 by attention. To put it in terms of memory, conscious- 
 ness refers to perceived present activity, preconscious- 
 ness to past activity that can be recalled, and uncon- 
 sciousness to past activity that cannot be recalled 
 except by special technique, such as hypnotism or 
 psycho-analysis. For example, I am conscious of sitting 
 at my table writing. While this consciousness is domin- 
 ant, the memories of the walk in the wind and the 
 calls I made this afternoon, belong to the preconscious. 
 As I write about them they come up into my conscious- 
 ness. But there are experiences of my life that I cannot 
 recall. For instance, I can recall just a glimpse of my 
 memory of the first occasion when I slept in a strange 
 house as a child. But the details of the journey to the 
 place, the locality of the house are all completely blank. 
 They belong to the unconscious. There is, however, 
 
10 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 
 
 no clear line of demarcation between the three 
 " localities." There are certain memories that seem to 
 belong at times to the preconscious, and at other times 
 to pass temporarily into the unconscious. The com- 
 monest illustration of this is the case of recalling names. 
 We have all experienced times when we have been 
 unable to recall a name which we were absolutely sure 
 we remembered, it may be indeed a name that we are 
 in the habit of recalling quite easily. That is, it usually 
 belongs to the preconscious. But just at a particular 
 moment we cannot recall it. At that moment it has 
 been pushed back into the unconscious. 
 
 But this use of the terms " conscious '* and " uncon- 
 scious,' ' while it is undoubtedly in accordance with one 
 of the common interpretations of everyday life, is not 
 psychologically satisfactory, and we cannot but regret 
 that, being woven as it is into the remarkable fabric of 
 Freudian theory, it has met with an acceptance, which 
 upon its own merits, we are convinced, it would never 
 have won. It has involved the use of such contradictory 
 terms as " unconscious ideas," " unconscious wishes," 
 and " unconscious experience," and must obscure the 
 fundamental similarity of the psychic life of the lower 
 animals and man. We are compelled to think of 
 memories as existing unchanged in some antechamber 
 of the mind, and being admitted after scrutiny and 
 possible disguise (see doctrine of the Censor, later), into 
 the presence chamber of consciousness. Now this con- 
 ception of memories existing like pale shadows of them- 
 selves in the Sheol of the Unconscious, waiting for 
 resurrection, is unpsychological. Memories do not exist 
 as pale shadows waiting for reincarnation in conscious 
 life. They exist only as a determination of present 
 experience. They do not exist as ideas, wishes, etc., 
 but only as tendencies or trends of consciousness. They 
 only become ideas or wishes as they are reinstated in 
 the full, personal consciousness of present experience. 
 Let us try to make this clear by means of an illustration. 
 
THE « NEW PSYCHOLOGY " 11 
 
 I want a fresh packet of tobacco. This is a conscious 
 wish of the present. It sets going a train of activities. 
 I look for my hat and set off along the street. Mean- 
 while the wish for the tobacco has become a memory. 
 I am attending to other thoughts. But it is still 
 affecting my activity. I am still walking towards the 
 shop, though possibly my thoughts are full of a recent 
 football match. But as soon as I reach the shop, the 
 tendency to bend my footsteps in a certain direction 
 becomes a recognized purpose to purchase tobacco. The 
 point we want to make clear is, that ideas and wishes 
 do not exist as such " in the back of the mind," to use 
 a common phrase, but persist only as unrecognized 
 tendencies and trends of present experience and activity. 
 As soon as the tendency or trend is recognized it becomes 
 an idea or wish. But some tendencies we are able to 
 recognize on the relevant occasion, others we cannot 
 recognize. This is Freud's distinction between the 
 preconscious and the unconscious. It is an important 
 distinction as we trust the sequel will show, and thus 
 stated we believe it is free from the criticisms that have 
 been launched against Freud's theory of the unconscious. 
 It is only just to acknowledge that Freud is not oblivious 
 of these criticisms. He meets them by accusing psychol- 
 ogists of making the psychical and conscious equivalent 
 terms. The psychologist retorts that he has identified 
 consciousness and self consciousness. Freud rejects the 
 hypothesis of the subconscious, and in so far as it implies 
 two or more independent " streams of consciousness," 
 we believe he is right. But the " subconscious " school 
 is not necessarily committed to such a hypothesis, 
 though some of their statements would apparently bear 
 that interpretation. Finally we believe that these three 
 schools of psychological thought — the " Instinct " 
 school represented by Prof. McDougall and Dr. Drever, 
 the " Subconscious " school represented by Janet, 
 Prince and Sidis, and the " Unconscious," represented 
 by Freud, Jung, and their disciples, are not necessarily 
 
12 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 
 
 exclusive in their main principles, in fact, that the most 
 satisfactory account of human activity will be gained 
 by a conception of consciousness which does justice to 
 the main contentions of all three. 
 
 To those acquainted with the tremendous complexity 
 of the facts, an attempt to formulate such a concept 
 will almost certainly be regarded as foredoomed to 
 failure ; to those who have but slight acquaintance with 
 psychological literature the prospect of a further venture 
 into unexplored country may appear bewildering and 
 uninviting. We will endeavour, as far as the limits of 
 space will allow, to make our exposition as clear and 
 full as possible. 
 
 A metaphor may help us to get a firmer hold of the 
 subject. Let us compare consciousness to a midnight 
 procession headed by a torchlight, whose rays can be 
 turned in any direction, concentrated into a beam or 
 diffused over a wide area as need arises. The country 
 lying immediately ahead is lit up, revealing more or 
 less clearly, tracks and obstacles, which the leader of 
 the procession must choose or avoid as the case may be. 
 But the action of the leader of the procession is not 
 determined merely by what the torchlight reveals, he 
 is being pushed and jostled by those behind. The way 
 he actually takes will be determined by three factors — 
 the nature of the country, the purpose he has in view, 
 and the pressure of his followers. On the followers 
 immediately behind he can turn the light. They are 
 tendencies that can be recognized, that is, they are 
 wishes and desires. The more remote followers are out- 
 side the light. They are exerting their pressure, some 
 of them at times possibly push their way up into the 
 illuminated area and are recognized. The illuminated 
 and unilluminated parts of the procession correspond to 
 Freud's preconscious and unconscious respectively. The 
 light-bearer is selfconsciousness, with a more or less 
 definite goal in view. He must choose the way, re- 
 straining as far as possible the unruly members. But 
 
THE " NEW PSYCHOLOGY " 13 
 
 consciousness is far more complicated still. The members 
 of the procession are organized to a greater or less extent 
 into companies, platoons, etc., such as the " sentiments " 
 of McDougall, or the " constellations " of the psycho- 
 analyst. They are capable of a certain amount of 
 independence. This organization is an all-important 
 conception. It is called mental synthesis. Where 
 synthesis is well developed there is clear thinking, 
 consistent action ; but where it is defective there is 
 confusion and conflict. Larger or smaller bands may 
 be cut off to some extent from the procession. Then 
 we have what is called a " complex " in psycho-analysis, 
 or "dissociation" in the terms of the subconscious 
 school. When the self through emotional shock loses 
 control we have a special case of dissociation which is 
 pure instinctive reaction, as in the case of overwhelming 
 fear or solicitation of appetite. 
 
 This metaphor of the procession must not be pushed 
 too far. Selfconsciousness is not a separate being, 
 sitting enthroned above the more or less obedient 
 subjects we call impulses. It is itself only a recognized 
 and acknowledged synthesis of these same impulses, or 
 at any rate of some of them. The whole activity of 
 consciousness is not necessarily exhausted in personal 
 consciousness. Hypnotism, for example, reveals that 
 we perceive and remember things of which we have no 
 personal consciousness. While certain of our tendencies 
 and experiences are synthesized into self-activity, others 
 may be synthesized into a unity on what Dr. Drever 
 has called the subpersonal level. Walking along the 
 street, my personal consciousness may be engaged in 
 wrestling with a psychological problem, while the 
 business of keeping my body out of contact with other 
 people may be relegated to the subpersonal conscious- 
 ness. 
 
 A second thing we must note is, that the synthesis of 
 impulses, which we call self or personal consciousness 
 is not a fixed one. It changes from moment to moment. 
 
14 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 
 
 As a rule a strong sense of continuity underlies the 
 change. But if this is weakened we have that type of 
 experience in which we say — " I wasn't myself then ! " 
 If it becomes weaker still, till it practically or entirely 
 disappears, we have what is known as dissociated 
 personality. The most remarkable example of this is 
 the case of " Miss Beauchamp," who had at least three 
 well-marked personalities, as Dr. Morton Prince clearly 
 shows. 
 
 The selfconsciousness of a given moment does not 
 exhaust the impulses and experiences of that moment. 
 These are pushing at the door. Some are rejected ; 
 some are admitted because they are approved. Others 
 are admitted because they are too strong to be kept out. 
 Once these have obtained entry, they alter the nature 
 of selfconsciousness. The desires and wishes that 
 previously ruled may continue to fight on, and then we 
 have self conscious conflict, or they may be pushed right 
 out of the selfconscious to take their turn for a time at 
 least as nameless rebels. If the suppression is temporary 
 these desires belong to the Freudian preconscious, if it 
 is relatively permanent they belong to the unconscious. 
 This selecting activity of the self is all-important. Accord- 
 ing to the degree to which it is relaxed we have the 
 various degrees of suggestibility in the different hypnotic 
 states, or dream activities. According to the degree in 
 which it is rigidly and narrowy exercised over strong 
 impulses we have the conflicts which underlie the great 
 variety of " nervous conditions," to be found in human 
 life. To this extent, the " subconscious " and " uncon- 
 scious " schools are in the main agreed, except in the 
 question of terminology, and in this respect we feel that 
 the " subconscious " school is the more consistent and 
 satisfactory. The use of such terms as " unconscious 
 ideas " by psycho-analysts is, we hold, objectionable 
 and unnecessary, but at the same time it does not 
 undermine the truth of their main contention, that there 
 are dynamic conditions of experience which the indivi- 
 
THE « NEW PSYCHOLOGY " 15 
 
 dual cannot trace to their origin, e.g., the man who has 
 a fear of cats, but cannot trace this fear back to some 
 incident of childhood days. But there are two types 
 of tendency which the individual cannot trace to their 
 origin — the innate or inherited tendencies which we call 
 instincts and the acquired tendencies due to an experi- 
 ence which cannot be recalled. The former have been 
 called the " primary unconscious " and the latter the 
 1 ' secondary unconscious . ' ' The problem of harmonizing 
 psycho-analytical theory with instinct psychology lies 
 largely in the determination of which tendencies are 
 acquired and which are inherited. Freud apparently 
 acknowledges only two instincts, the selfpreservation, 
 and race-preservation or sex instincts. The result is 
 of necessity, that he gives the latter a far more important 
 place than the " Instinct " school is prepared to admit. 
 The difference between the " unconscious " and " sub- 
 conscious " schools is due mainly to the different attitude 
 to mental life. The former is predominantly genetic, 
 explaining the present in terms of past development, 
 the latter is predominantly analytic, explaining the 
 present in terms of the present constituent elements. 
 The one places the chief emphasis on " repression " of 
 painful memories, while the other (the " subconscious " 
 school) regards " dissociation " of consciousness as the 
 all-important factor. The comparative psychologists 
 or the " instinct " school, as we have called them, 
 resemble the psycho-analytical school in taking the 
 genetic point of view. But while the former explain 
 the mature mental activity of man by means of the 
 evolution of the simpler mental processes of the lower 
 animals, the latter explain this activity by the history 
 of the individual, that is, the " instinct " school is more 
 phylogenetic, while the " unconscious " school is more 
 exclusively ontogenetic. 
 
CHAPTER II 
 
 ORIGIN AND DEVELOPMENT OF 
 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 
 
 IN the preceding chapter we have seen that psycho- 
 analysis approaches the problem of human 
 behaviour from the standpoint of the abnormal, 
 and that in this respect it resembles the attitude of the 
 " subconscious " school. Ethics defines the normal as 
 the right, the ideal, the rational. In this sense the 
 unconscious is always abnormal. It has nothing to do 
 with the right and rational. It is just as non-rational 
 as a schoolboy's liking for jam tarts. For psychology 
 and medicine the normal is the usual. The abnormal 
 is the unusual, or the usual with some element or aspect 
 unusually developed or atrophied. The study of these 
 abnormal conditions has thrown very great light on 
 the normal functioning both of body and mind. As we 
 have already seen it was from this point of view that 
 the " subconscious " school made their attack on the 
 problem of consciousness. Hypnotic states, automatic 
 activities, and the phenomena of dissociated personality 
 were seen to be only exaggerated conditions of normal 
 states. In a similar way psycho-analysis began with 
 the study of the abnormal condition known as hysteria. 
 Sigmund Freud of Vienna is the acknowledged founder 
 of this school. In his brief " History of the Psycho- 
 analytical Movement " he traces it back to the examina- 
 tion of a very interesting case of hysteria in the charge 
 of Dr. Breuer, an older colleague. After failing to 
 remove the symptoms, such as paralysis of the right 
 
 16 
 
ORIGIN AND DEVELOPMENT 17 
 
 arm, loss of the power to drink, by means of hypnotic 
 suggestion, Breuer gradually discovered that one by one 
 these disappeared when the painful, repulsive experi- 
 ences, which were apparently the cause of the trouble 
 were recalled by the help of hypnotism. Breuer, how- 
 ever, did not make any further use of this discovery 
 till urged to do so some years later by Freud, who had 
 now returned from Paris after studying hypnotism 
 under Charcot. Together they began to apply the 
 discovery, and after a time found that it was not enough 
 to recall the disturbing experience. The experience 
 must be relived in all its old emotional intensity. The 
 application of this principle was called the " Cathartic 
 Method," and marks the first stage of the development 
 of psycho-analysis. For this Freud gives Breuer 
 practically full credit. 
 
 The problem of the physician was then to discover 
 the experience which underlay the nervous trouble. In 
 their quest for this Breuer and Freud found themselves 
 being led back to earlier and yet earlier periods of the 
 patient's history — back to puberty and often to early 
 childhood days. This phenomenon was called " regres- 
 sion.' ' So far Breuer and Freud were agreed and worked 
 hand in hand. But at this point their ways parted. 
 Freud maintained that these memories were essentially 
 of a sexual nature. Breuer disagreed and Freud was 
 left to work and fight alone. For many years he was 
 either ignored or fiercely attacked. But he worked on. 
 
 The results of these years of isolated work we will try 
 to sum up in a word or two. In trying to track the 
 memories that he held were the specific cause of the 
 nervous disorder, he found that there was always a 
 great deal of " resistance " to overcome. They were 
 buried memories and the patient was unwilling to have 
 them disinterred. He found further that in many cases 
 he could not apply hypnotism, and in cases where he 
 could the " resistance " was often only thereby increased. 
 So in 1893 he definitely abandoned the hypnotic method, 
 
18 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 
 
 and henceforth used the method of " free association," 
 of which we shall have more to say later. In trying 
 to overcome the resistance of the patient to the recall 
 of the disagreeable memories he found that wherever 
 he was successful there was a stage in the treatment in 
 which the patient " transferred " on to the physician 
 the emotional attitude which was the root of his trouble. 
 For example, if the cause of the disorder was an undue 
 attachment to, or hostility towards one of the patient's 
 parents, then that attachment or hostility must be 
 transferred on to the physician before the patient could 
 be cured. This transference, it must be understood, 
 did not consummate the cure, but was a necessary stage 
 in achieving it. These two conceptions of " resistance " 
 and " transference," Freud asserts are essential for 
 genuine psycho-analysis. 
 
 Two other discoveries belonging to this period must 
 be noted. A more careful examination of the " mem- 
 ories " revealed that in some cases they did not refer 
 to actual incidents, but only to imagined ones. The 
 second discovery was the most far-reaching of all. It 
 was the recognition that the mental processes in dreams 
 are essentially similar to the mental processes of the 
 neurotic mind. The recognition of this resemblance led 
 to that investigation of dreams the results of which 
 are embodied in Freud's " Interpretation of Dreams." 1 
 
 Shortly after the publication of this book the psycho- 
 analytical method was adopted and practised by 
 Bleuler and Jung in the school of Psychiatry at Zurich. 
 It was mainly due to the efforts and influence of this 
 school, as Freud himself admits, that the new thera- 
 peutic method received its early expansion. Jung 
 devised a new method which is known as the " Word 
 Association Method." A list of one hundred common 
 words is taken. One by one these words are pronounced 
 by the analyst, and the patient is instructed to respond 
 
 1 " Interpretation of Dreams." Sigmund Freud. Translated 
 by Brill. 3rd Edition, 1920. Allen and Unwin, London. 
 
ORIGIN AND DEVELOPMENT 19 
 
 as quickly as possible with the first word that it arouses 
 in his mind. The time taken to give the response is 
 measured in fifths of a second by means of a stop watch. 
 When the whole series of words has been gone through 
 in this manner they are repeated, and the patient is 
 instructed to give as far as possible the word with which 
 he responded on the former occasion. The responses 
 are then carefully classified. Jung found that the types 
 of response varied considerably, and that similar types 
 of response were given in cases of the same mental 
 disease. This aspect of the question is, however, a 
 question for the trained psychiatrist, and so we shall 
 not consider it further. But other interesting results 
 of the method are worthy of consideration. The first 
 thing that is to be noted is, that the time taken to 
 respond is much longer for some words than for others. 
 Occasionally response fails altogether, or is given after 
 repeating the stimulus word. In some cases the same 
 word is given several times as a response to different 
 stimulus words. Failure to reproduce the original 
 response is also common. These are some of the most 
 important points of the Association Test. They indicate 
 not intellectual difficulties, but emotional ones. The words 
 that call out these unusual reactions are linked up with 
 some experience that vitally concerns the individual 
 who makes the reaction. They point to some hidden 
 mental tension or conflict, which it is the business of 
 psycho-analysis to remove. The method of doing this 
 is the same as in the case of dreams, and will be con- 
 sidered later. When the dreams are difficult to obtain 
 this method provides a substitute and has uses extending 
 even beyond this. For instance, it has been employed 
 to distinguish guilty persons from innocent. But as a 
 means of insight into the way the unconscious works it 
 is far inferior to dream analysis. 
 
 This method Freud acknowledges as a legitimate 
 development of his own work. So far Jung was appar- 
 ently in substantial agreement with him, and was 
 
20 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 
 
 regarded by Freud as his authorized successor. In 
 1909 they went together to America to expound this 
 new system of psycho-therapy, and found there a much 
 more sympathetic hearing than it had received in 
 Europe. But differences soon began to emerge between 
 the two, and also between Freud and another of his 
 disciples, Dr. Alfred Adler, a fellow-citizen of Vienna. 
 
 A brief consideration of these differences is all that 
 we can give. We have seen how Breuer and Freud in 
 examining cases of nervous disorders, such as hysteria, 
 were led back to very early childhood memories or 
 phantasies. In this way Freud was led to explain the 
 mental conflict which is the root of the trouble as due 
 to the persistence of various childish attitudes which 
 were inconsistent with the demands of adult life. The 
 essential elements in these childish attitudes he main- 
 tained were sexual. At one stage or another the normal 
 psycho-sexual (the mental side of sex life) development, 
 had been arrested. Jung on the other hand maintained 
 that the conflict was due to the individual's difficulty 
 in adapting himself to his environment, and that the 
 " regression " tendency was due to an effort on the 
 part of the patient to find some experience upon which 
 the blame for the trouble could be laid. The early 
 memories were thus not the real cause, but the imagined 
 cause of the illness. According to Jung the real cause 
 was to be found in the individual's " non-fulfilment of 
 his life's task." Further, he denied that the psychic 
 energy of the unconscious, the urge, or " libido " as it 
 was called, was exclusively sexual. 1 It was on these 
 same questions, that Adler diverged even more widely 
 from his master. He held that this fundamental urge 
 was the " egotistic impulse," Nietzsche's " will to power," 
 and that the sexual instinct is only one form of its 
 
 1 Freud's use of this term has been much debated. It covers 
 not only the significance that is attached to it in common speech, 
 but as far as we have been able to interpret it, it embraces also 
 what we should call the " sensuous." For fuller consideration 
 of this question, see Chapter IV. 
 
ORIGIN AND DEVELOPMENT 21 
 
 manifestation. The failure of this " will to power " to 
 realize its ends, he maintained was the cause of neurotic 
 troubles. At the root of this failure is some organic 
 inferiority. The patient tries to compensate for this 
 weakness, by a special concentration of his energies in 
 that direction. The classical example of such compensa- 
 tion is the triumph of Demosthenes over his speech 
 deficiencies. If the effort fails then the patient tries 
 to exploit his inferiority as the blind beggar does his 
 loss of sight. If this fails mental conflict ensues with '"' 
 its varied train of nervous ills. There can be no doubt 
 that the feeling of inferiority and the effort to com- 
 pensate for it play a large part in human life. But 
 even from these all-too-brief accounts of the theories of 
 Freud and Adler it will be seen that the latter has 
 departed very far from his master's teaching, and that 
 he was only just to himself and the founder of psycho- 
 analysis when he gave his system the new title of 
 " Individual Psychology/ ' While this system contains 
 much that is valuable, we believe that on the whole 
 Freud's criticism of it is just. " The picture one derives I 
 from Adler's system is founded entirely upon the impulse 
 of aggression. It has no place at all for love." 
 
 This country was very slow to receive the Freudian 
 theories. But it is becoming increasingly recognized 
 that they contain valuable contributions to our insight 
 into the working of the human mind. Dr. Ernest Jones 
 stands as the pioneer and chief representative of the 
 orthodox school, while Dr. Maurice Nicoll and Dr. 
 Constance Long may be mentioned as leading disciples 
 of Jung. Here, as elsewhere, the " rock of offence " 
 has been Freud's sexual theory, and there are many, 
 such as Rivers, McDougall, Myers and Brown, who 
 acknowledge that Freud has thrown great light on the 
 unconscious activities of the mind, but they are not 
 prepared to accept without considerable modification 
 his idea of the role of sex. 
 
 On this question we shall content ourselves at presen^ 
 
22 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 
 
 with saying that the question must be faced with as 
 little prejudice and passion as the human mind is 
 capable of. Truth must be our only guide. That we 
 may face the question with what we may call an 
 " equilibrated mind " let it be remembered that if we 
 find in Freud's conceptions much that is repellent, if 
 these conceptions are true, then the very best of which 
 human nature is capable, the highest values on which 
 we can set our hearts, these are to be obtained, not by 
 trampling on and crushing this powerful impulse but 
 by its " sublimation." 1 
 
 1 Freud defines " sublimation " as a process by which an 
 originally sexual aim is exchanged for one which is no longer 
 sexual, but still psychically related* 
 
CHAPTER III 
 DREAMS 
 
 WE have now seen how the psycho-analytical 
 method with its accompanying theory was 
 discovered and what was the nature of its 
 earlier development, and we have seen how Freud's atten- 
 tion was drawn to the similarity of the mental processes 
 in hysteria and in dreams. The nature of these dream 
 processes we must now examine more carefully under 
 his guidance. 
 
 Dreams have played a great part in the culture of 
 nearly all primitive peoples, and even among the most 
 highly civilized peoples of the present day there are not 
 a few traces of dream-lore. But for the most part 
 science has treated them as meaningless and unimpor- 
 tant. Efforts have been made to explain and interpret 
 the phenomena but with very little success. The 
 general tendency has been to ascribe them to some such 
 cause as an indigestible supper, or some accidental 
 sensation experienced by the sleeper. The often quoted 
 dream of Maury will afford us a good illustration. He 
 dreamt he was arraigned before a tribunal of the French 
 Revolution. He was tried, condemned, and executed. 
 At the moment when he felt his head being severed 
 from his body he awoke in great distress to find that 
 the top of his bed had fallen on his neck. But we have 
 still to ask, why did he dream of the .Revolution, and 
 not of an attack by brigands or a street accident ? The 
 answer usually given to such a question is that he must 
 have been reading or thinking about the Revolution 
 
 23 
 
24 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 
 
 some little time before. We have here another factor 
 which is commonly recognized as playing a part in the 
 formation of dreams — the factor of recent experience. 
 But most dreams are not so coherent as the one we have 
 cited. On the surface they often appear ridiculous and 
 utterly meaningless, worthy only to be compared with 
 the apparently groundless hallucinations and incoherent 
 ravings of an inmate of a lunatic asylum. We shut the 
 lunatic out of sight and dismiss the dream into oblivion 
 for much the same reason. We do not understand 
 them. Possibly we do not want to understand them. 
 But Freud has taken seriously the hallucinations of the 
 lunatic, the foolish obsessions and worries of the neurotic, 
 and the fabrications of the dreamer. If he has not 
 elucidated every problem connected with these mental 
 processes he has at any rate succeeded in throwing on 
 them a flood of light, and into a realm where chaos held 
 almost unlimited sway he has brought a large measure 
 of order and insight. 
 
 Before we ask what is Freud's explanations of dreams, 
 it is only just that we should remind ourselves that his 
 theory is not based on the casual examination of a few 
 dreams. His " Interpretation of Dreams," published 
 first in German, more than twenty years ago, was based 
 on the analysis of not less than one thousand dreams. 
 Since then his work has been extended and in some 
 respects modified. It has passed through the fiercest 
 furnace of hostile criticism. But Freud still maintains 
 that his fundamental contentions have not been over- 
 thrown. It is sometimes urged as an objection to his 
 theories that they are based upon a one-sided examina- 
 tion of abnormal neurotic individuals. In these days, 
 when in nearly every department of psychology and 
 medicine, pathology is being so extensively used to 
 illuminate the normal processes of body and mind this 
 cannot be regarded as a final and decisive objection. 
 But we may go even further. The objection is not true. 
 The theory was based not merely upon the examination 
 
DREAMS 25 
 
 of the dreams of nervous patients, but on the dreams 
 of normal people as well. The examples he gives in his 
 book are drawn chiefly from a collection of his own 
 dreams. The reason for this is that the analysis of 
 dreams involves such a revelation of the intimate and 
 private affairs of the individual that Freud felt that he 
 could only demand such sacrifice from himself. 
 
 I. WISH-FULFILMENT THEORY 
 
 Having considered this objection let us now turn to 
 Freud's theory of dreams. The foundation of this theory 
 is the hypothesis that all dreams are the fulfilment of a wish. 
 To those who are entirely unacquainted with the system 
 of thought we are endeavouring to expound, this state- 
 ment will be received with surprise and most probably 
 with scepticism. It is one of the contentions around 
 which the fierce debate on psycho-analytical theories 
 has raged most stormily. That some dreams are 
 obviously simple examples of wish-fulfilments will be 
 readily granted. Most people, possibly, from their own 
 experience could produce such cases. Dreams which 
 are just straightforward imaginary gratifications of 
 bodily needs are by no means uncommon. The sleeper, 
 for instance, is thirsty, and he dreams that he is slaking 
 his thirst with copious draughts from some refreshing 
 spring. On more than one occasion, the writer, having 
 slept beyond his usual hour has dreamt that he had 
 just woke up, and looking at his watch found that he 
 had a good hour to sleep. Rude disillusionment soon 
 followed from some member of the household. This 
 simple dream reveals a complication of two wishes — the 
 desire to sleep, and the desire, less strong possibly, to 
 be up betimes. Freud gives a similar instance of a 
 medical student, who being called one morning, awoke, 
 turned over and dreamt that he was in bed in the hospital 
 where his studies were being pursued. Since he was 
 
26 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 
 
 already in the hospital there was no need to get up. 
 He could sleep a while longer. The dreams of young 
 children are practically all of this simple type. The 
 chocolates that were denied during the day are supplied 
 in abundance by the dream at night. The entertainment 
 that was prohibited, or proved all too brief in the waking 
 hours is enjoyed without restraint during the sleeping 
 hours. 
 
 But the vast majority of adult dreams are not so 
 simple or obvious as the examples just quoted. Leaving 
 aside for a moment, anxiety and fear dreams, the 
 ordinary dream of grown up people is apparently a 
 meaningless jumble of ludicrous situations, without 
 rhyme or reason. Further, even when these are inter- 
 preted by the method we shall shortly expound, the 
 dreamer often refuses to accept the interpretation 
 because he cannot acknowledge that he ever experienced 
 the wish of which the dream is the alleged fulfilment. 
 Freud's explanation of this is that the wish is an uncon- 
 scious wish. This terminology, as we have explained 
 in Chapter I, is unfortunate and misleading. It involves 
 an unwarrantable, or at least undesirable extension of 
 the commonly accepted meaning of the word " wish," 
 and has resulted in a good deal of unnecessary opposition 
 to Freud's theories. We cannot hope to explain these 
 theories so that they will meet with ready and universal 
 acceptance. If it were possible to do this without 
 injustice to their fundamental contentions, it would 
 involve their complete refutation. For the whole 
 structure is built up on the foundation idea that in the 
 individual there is an obstinate resistance against self- 
 revelation. Rightly does Freud recognize that the 
 fierce opposition with which his teaching has met, is 
 both natural and inevitable if that teaching is true. 
 At the same time, and we are sure that he would readily 
 acknowledge this, that opposition in itself is not a 
 sufficient demonstration of the truth of his contentions. 
 Not a little of that hostility has been due, we contend, 
 
DREAMS 27 
 
 to his unusual use of terms which his critics have not 
 always fully appreciated. The use of the term " wish " 
 is a case in point. There is no such thing as an " uncon- 
 scious wish." A more satisfactory mode of expression 
 of his idea would be the term " unrecognized tendency." 
 A wish is, at least, a recognized tendency. We shall 
 therefore use the word " tendency " asa general term, 
 covering the same connotation as Freud attributes to 
 the " wish," conscious or unconscious. It is at once 
 obvious that most of us would be prepared to admit 
 that there are unrecognized, and even undesirable 
 tendencies within us. But if these tendencies are 
 dignified by the title " wish " we should rightly deny 
 their existence, because we feel that this title involves 
 a degree of approval which we have never bestowed 
 upon them. On these grounds we believe, that the 
 wish-fulfilment would be better expressed, — " Every 
 dream is the satisfaction of a psychical tendency." 
 
 2. MANIFEST AND LATENT CONTENT 
 
 But there are other objections which would appear 
 to be just as valid against this formula as against the 
 original one. Some dreams apparently reveal tendencies 
 which we not only deny, but which undoubtedly do not 
 exist. The mere denial of them does not disprove them. 
 They may be unrecognized or, to use the Freudian term, 
 " unconscious." But there are some dreams which 
 manifest to all appearance, attitudes and desires which 
 not even the most exhaustive analysis can confirm. 
 The explanation of this leads us to a second and most 
 important fact about dreams. Dreams have two con- 
 tents, the manifest and latent. The manifest content 
 is that which is obvious to the dreamer. The latent 
 content can only be revealed by analysis. The former 
 may apparently reveal tendencies which are quite 
 inconsistent with the character of the dreamer, but when 
 the dream has been analysed and its latent content 
 
28 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 
 
 rendered explicit, it will be seen that its meaning is 
 quite different from what a superficial interpretation 
 would indicate. This distinction of the two contents is 
 of the utmost importance for a right understanding of 
 Freud's doctrine. As an illustration of this we will give 
 a very short dream of one of Ferenczi's patients with its 
 accompanying analysis. 
 
 " I was once called upon to analyse the short dream 
 of a woman ; in it she had wrung the neck of a little, 
 barking, white dog. She was very much astonished 
 that she who " could not hurt a fly," could dream such 
 a cruel dream, and she did not remember having dreamt 
 one like it before. She admitted that, being very fond 
 of cooking, she had many times killed pigeons and fowls 
 with her own hand. Then it occurred to her that she 
 had wrung the neck of the little dog in the dream in 
 exactly the same way as she was accustomed to do with 
 the pigeons in order to cause them less pain. The 
 thoughts and associations that followed had to do with 
 pictures and stories of executions, and especially with 
 the thought that the executioner, when he had fastened 
 the cord about the criminal's neck arranges it so as to 
 give the neck a twist, and thus hasten death. Asked 
 against whom she felt a strong enmity at the present 
 time, she named a sister-in-law, and related at length 
 her bad qualities and malicious deeds, with which she 
 had disturbed the family harmony, before so beautiful, 
 after insinuating herself like a tame pigeon into the favour 
 of her subsequent husband. Not long before a violent 
 scene had taken place between her and the patient, 
 which ended by the latter showing her to the door with 
 the words : ' Get out ; I cannot endure a biting dog 
 in my house.' Now it was clear whom the little white 
 dog represented, and whose neck she was wringing in 
 the dream. The sister-in-law is also a small person, 
 with a remarkably white complexion." 1 The manifest 
 
 1 " Contributions to Psycho-Analysis." Dr, 3. Ferenczi. 
 Translated by Dr. E. Jones, 191 6. Badger, 
 
DREAMS 29 
 
 content of this dream is very brief. The dreamer 
 wrings the neck of the little white dog. The latent 
 content is much more extensive. Only an epitome of 
 it is given. It consists of a great complex of images 
 and reminiscences. The meaning of the dream is 
 rendered explicit. It is the satisfaction of a hostile 
 tendency towards the sister-in-law. Thus we see, even 
 in such a brief and apparently simple dream, the real 
 meaning is very different from the superficial. 
 
 Two questions will now present themselves to the 
 reader's mind. How is the latent content of a dream 
 discovered, and why does the dreamer take this round- 
 about and obscure way of obtaining satisfaction ? 
 For instance, in the dream just cited, why is the wrath 
 vented on a little dog and not on its real object, the 
 sister-in-law ? 
 
 3. DREAM ANALYSIS. FREE ASSOCIATION 
 
 Let us consider the first question, How is the latent 
 content of a dream obtained ? Freud's answer is, 
 By " free association." The patient is made comfort- 
 able in an easy chair. Some analysts prefer the patient 
 to recline upon a couch. The muscles are relaxed and 
 the thoughts must be allowed to flow freely. So far the 
 method is essentially similar to that of Suggestion. 
 There is a suspension of the selecting activity of the 
 self which is identical with the state of " relaxation " 
 that is regarded as a necessary preliminary for effective 
 suggestion. 1 But from this point the two methods 
 diverge. When the state of relaxation has been induced 
 suggestion proceeds by introducing the idea that the 
 painful symptoms are passing away, that the patient 
 is getting better and better. In psycho-analysis the 
 element of suggestion is as far as possible eliminated. 
 
 1 Cf. Baudouin, " Suggestion and Auto-Suggestion." Allen 
 and Unwin. 
 
30 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 
 
 The patient is instructed to give expression to what- 
 ever thoughts come into the mind. There must be no 
 selection. Good, bad, indifferent, trivial or profound 
 they should be made known to the analyst. When 
 these instructions have been made perfectly clear, the 
 dream, which has been previously communicated to the 
 analyst, is taken piece by piece, and the subject is 
 requested to say just what thoughts arise as the mind 
 contemplates any particular fragment thus submitted. 
 The thought thus stimulated may appear utterly 
 irrelevant. But it is essential that it should be freely 
 communicated. Freud considers that the best part of 
 the dream to begin with is that which is the most obscure. 
 It is the tender spot. It is quite a common thing for 
 the patient to say, when a portion of the dream is thus 
 presented, that no thoughts arise in connexion with it. 
 This is due either to resistance against the analyst 
 recognized or unrecognized, or to inner resistance. 
 Even in analysing one's own dreams one may come up 
 against an apparently blank wall. Behind the wall 
 there is something we don't want to see. If the analyst 
 confidently assures the patient that the thoughts will 
 come, this internal resistance may often be broken 
 down. Resistance against the analyst at the beginning 
 of an examination is due to the fact that the confidence 
 of the subject has not been fully obtained before the 
 inquiry is begun. It is perfectly obvious that if dreams 
 reveal such intimate and painful matters of our life that 
 we are trying to hide them even from ourselves, a very 
 full degree of confidence will be necessary before they 
 can be related to a second person. Resistance to the 
 analyst, which arises at a later stage of the inquiry is 
 due to another factor which Freud calls " Trans- 
 ference." This we shall discuss later. From the fore- 
 going it will be gathered that the patient, during free- 
 association is in a very suggestive state of mind. It is 
 therefore of the utmost importance that the analyst 
 should reduce his rdle as far as possible, during this time. 
 
DREAMS 31 
 
 to that of an impartial observer and recorder. It is a 
 wise precaution to instruct the subject to keep the eyes 
 closed during this part of the investigation. This shuts 
 out one big source of external suggestion and affords the 
 analyst greater freedom for the observation of facial 
 movements and trivial gestures, which often throw 
 considerable light on the mental processes. 
 
 But by what right does Freud assume that this free- 
 association method will yield reliable insight into the 
 hidden mind processes ? The human mind under such 
 conditions, — conditions which we have all experienced 
 to some extent in moments of reverie, seems to be a 
 somewhat unreasonable and unreliable thing. It is 
 tossed about by the slightest wind of fancy, thoughts 
 seem to spring up suddenly from nowhere, images the 
 most fantastic take shape and vanish. Freud's assump- 
 tion is based on the hypothesis that psychical process 
 is just as much subject to law as any other process. 
 The conscious mind, or selfconscious, as we should 
 prefer to say, is teleologically determined, that is, it is 
 governed by ideas of ends. The unconscious mind 
 is governed by impulses towards ends of which the mind 
 is not personally aware. But in neither realm does the 
 mind work by chance. When the teleological activities 
 of consciousness are suspended as explained above, we 
 are able to observe the natural trend of the impulses 
 of the unconscious. This hypothesis, of course, cannot 
 be proved. But Freud maintains that it is abundantly 
 confirmed by empirical observation. Free association 
 then, is Freud's key to the interpretation of dreams. 
 If it is proved to be unreliable then the door of the 
 dream chamber cannot be opened, and the hidden pro- 
 cesses of the mind must be regarded as an inexplicable 
 mystery. But the application of the method brings its 
 own conviction. With patient practice the reader 
 can obtain sufficient insight into his own dreams to 
 convince him of its value. It is wise in analysing one's 
 own dreams to write down the dream as soon as possible 
 
32 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 
 
 on waking. The analysis can be proceeded with at a 
 later and probably more convenient time. The associa- 
 tions should also be written down as they arrive. Some- 
 times the meaning of the dream emerges with startling 
 suddenness ; at other times it follows long and devious 
 ways. 
 
 4. CENSORSHIP AND REPRESSION 
 
 This brings us to the second question which was 
 raised above. Why does the dream not follow the 
 obvious and direct way to achieve its satisfaction ? 
 In some cases as we have seen, in children's dreams 
 for instance, and thirst dreams, etc., it does follow the 
 direct way. In the majority of adult dreams, however, 
 its aim is anything but obvious. What is the reason 
 for this ? Dreams we have seen are imaginary grati- 
 fications of psychic tendencies. But these tendencies 
 are very often unrecognized. That is, in Freudian 
 terminology, dreams are the product of the unconscious. 
 Now the reason for the failure to recognize these ten- 
 dencies is that they are not acceptable to selfconscious- 
 ness. What their specific nature is, we shall inquire 
 more fully in the next chapter. For the present, it is 
 sufficient for us to recognize that they are personally 
 repugnant. They are the outlaws of psychic life. They 
 are repressed. To effect an entrance into the citadel of 
 selfconsciousness, they must either overpower the 
 watchful sentinel of the self, or so disguise themselves 
 as to evade its suspicions. The former sometimes 
 happens, but it results in such distress that the dreamer 
 awakes. Now it is the function of the dream, according 
 to Freud, to guard sleep. The thirsty sleeper dreams of 
 copious draughts and so can go on sleeping. But if 
 the thirst is too intense to be satisfied by imaginary 
 gratification there is an end to sleep. In the case of 
 thirst there is no need for disguise. It is recognized 
 
DREAMS 33 
 
 as a perfectly honourable and legitimate desire. But 
 the desire to wring the neck of a near relative would 
 probably be repugnant to the moral sense of most 
 people and its gratification could only be granted by 
 means of disguise. 
 
 The disguise is due to the activity of what Freud calls 
 the " endopsychic censor." Undesirable tendencies 
 are repressed. They can only be gratified if they assume 
 such disguise as will evade the vigilance of the censor. 
 We must now examine more carefully these notions of 
 censorship and repression. They are of the utmost 
 importance for the right understanding of psycho- 
 analysis. The adjective " endopsychic " simply means 
 that the mind itself criticises its own tendencies. We 
 are our own censors. The recent war has made us all 
 familiar with the operations of the censor in the sphere 
 of national affairs. Occasionally the censor was dis- 
 regarded or defied. Revelations were made which 
 disturbed and distressed the national mind. People 
 were roused from the slumber of self-satisfaction. In 
 the same way, as we have seen, the sleeper may be 
 awakened by the overpowering of the endopsychic 
 censor. On the other hand references were sometimes 
 made to unpublished disasters in such a way that they 
 escaped the watchful eye of the censor. Even official 
 reports of reverses were often couched in such language 
 as to give the impression that they were really victories. 
 The object of this was, of course, the maintenance of 
 national morale. Whether the role of the censor, even 
 in our own country, was not too strictly regarded has 
 been debated. It has been suggested that if the people 
 had been more fully trusted, the temporary alarm would 
 quickly have passed into a more bracing preparation for 
 the struggle. But the authorities on these occasions 
 were concerned only about the immediate effects of bad 
 news. In this respect they resembled the individual 
 unconscious. Dr. Rivers, in his " Instinct and the 
 Unconscious," says, " The experience which tends to be 
 3 
 
34 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 
 
 forgotten or repressed is the immediately painful. If 
 we forget an appointment or a letter in connexion with 
 which we anticipate unpleasant emotions, the ultimate 
 consequences may be even more unpleasant than the 
 immediate experience from which we escape by the act 
 of forgetting. If we were able to consider rationally 
 the consequences of the lapse, we should find that in 
 most cases the course that would give us least trouble 
 would be to keep the appointment or to write the letter. 
 The process of active forgetting takes no account of these 
 ultimate consequences but is directed exclusively towards 
 the avoidance of the more immediate pains and dis- 
 comforts." 1 The "process of active forgetting " to 
 which Dr. Rivers refers is due to the repressing activity 
 of the censor. 
 
 Another respect in which the endopsychic censor 
 resembles the national official is in the delegation of 
 power. So vast was the material to be examined, much 
 of the work had to be done by subordinates. Certain 
 kinds of news were suppressed without reference to the 
 supreme censor. Only the most important and difficult 
 questions were submitted to his personal examination. 
 A similar division of labour may be found in the realm 
 of the individual mind. Dr. Rivers in the volume just 
 referred to, brings out very clearly the distinction 
 between "witting" and "unwitting" repression. 
 Probably every one can recall more than one occasion in 
 which deliberate effort was made to banish some 
 unpleasant experience from the mind. As a rule we 
 try to get away from the painful items of our past. 
 When this effort is deliberate we have witting repres- 
 sion ; when it is spontaneous and unrecognized we have 
 unwitting repression. This later activity Rivers has 
 called " suppression," reserving the term " repression " 
 for the deliberate and fully conscious effort. Witting 
 repression corresponds with the activity of the supreme 
 
 1 Page 29, " Instinct and the Unconscious." W. H. R. 
 Rivers, M.D., F.R.S. Cambridge, 1920. [Italic ours.] 
 
DREAMS 35 
 
 censor in national affairs ; unwitting repression corres- 
 ponds with the more or less automatic functions of his 
 subordinates. 
 
 It has been objected to Freud's doctrine of the endo- 
 psychic censor that it is merely metaphorical. What 
 is the real psychological nature of the censor ? In the 
 case of witting repression the answer it seems to us is 
 obvious. It is the critical activity of self-consciousness. 
 Impulses and experiences that conflict with the idea of 
 the self that is dominant at the moment we regard as 
 alien. They are banished. If they are so strong as to 
 persist in spite of this decree they give rise, according 
 to Rivers, to the nervous disorder known as anxiety or 
 repression neurosis. The psychological nature of 
 unwitting repression is not as simple or obvious. It is 
 due to the operation of consciousness at the sub-personal 
 level. In Chapter I we showed how an impulse or 
 tendency may operate without our being personally 
 aware of it. In a similar manner it is possible for one 
 impulse or system of impulses to operate in the sup- 
 pression of another impulse without the conflict coming 
 into the realm of full consciousness. For instance, it 
 is possible for a man to be so absorbed in his work that 
 the appetite for food may be temporarily suppressed. 
 There is in this case no deliberate effort. It is simply 
 the repression of one interest by another. This 
 unwitting repression is the activity on which the whole 
 psycho-analytical theory is built. And it must be borne 
 in mind that when an impulse or experience is repressed 
 it does not cease to exist. It exerts a bias on the whole 
 trend of the individual life. It may be that it produces 
 vague and inexplicable feelings of uneasiness, or an 
 inability to perform certain actions, or a compulsion to 
 perform others, or a mysterious fear of certain kinds of 
 places, or animals. But in all these experiences the 
 individual is oblivious of the real cause which lies in the 
 unwitting repression of the memory of some painful 
 event. He may try to explain his actions or his fears 
 
36 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 
 
 but he cannot give the real reason. He is like a person 
 who receives a command in the hypnotic state to 
 perform some strange action after he returns to waking 
 consciousness. He forgets the command but obeys it 
 all the same. 
 
 According to Freud the critical vigilance of the censor 
 is relaxed in sleep. This relaxation apparently varies 
 in degree. In the lowest degree the dream is an obvious 
 gratification of crude primitive appetites. In its 
 highest, the tendencies that have been refused satis- 
 faction during our waking life, can only find fulfilment 
 by means of the most elaborate and far-fetched disguise. 
 The censor admits the meaningless or ludicrous, but 
 refuses to accept that which is flagrantly at variance 
 with its sense of the right and proper. The degree of 
 disguise is determined by the relative strengths of the 
 repressed tendencies in operation and the vigilance 
 of the censor. We can watch the process at work in 
 day-dreams when we indulge in fantasies that are a 
 compensation for the unrealized aspirations of our 
 workaday world. The aspiring lover drifts in imagina- 
 tion with his loved one along some peaceful stream, 
 or dies in despair upon her doorstep. The unsuccessful 
 business man sees in fancy, branch after branch develop 
 under his capable management, or else the whole 
 concern collapses in bankruptcy with himself as a central 
 figure in the drama of cruel fate. How far imagination 
 is indulged in these day-dreams will depend on the 
 relative strength of the love and ambition and of the 
 weariness or hopelessness of the moment. A study of 
 one's own day-dreams, in our opinion, affords a self- 
 knowledge and an introduction to the simpler 
 mechanisms of real dreams which would prove most 
 helpful in the gaining of real psycho-analytical insight. 
 But this is not to be obtained by five minutes' casual 
 introspection. Day-dreams are only a degree less 
 delusive than night dreams. 
 And now to sum up what we have endeavoured to 
 
DREAMS 37 
 
 explain in the foregoing paragraphs — the " meaning- 
 less " dream, that is, the ordinary adult dream is the 
 disguised satisfaction of a repressed tendency. 
 
 5. REPRESSION, DISSOCIATION AND FORGETTING 
 
 Before we pass on to consider yet another objection 
 to this theory we must consider more carefully the 
 effects of repression. We shall use this term, repression, 
 to signify unwitting repression unless the contrary is 
 clearly indicated. The effects of witting repression 
 we can all easily observe. The effort to forget is too 
 painfully obvious to pass by unnoticed. But the effects 
 of unwitting repression are always misunderstood. To 
 Freud is due the credit for their elucidation and the 
 revelation of their history. 
 
 A simple illustration, for which the reader will 
 probably be able to find parallels in his own experience, 
 will show what is meant. Some time ago I met a friend, 
 by chance, in the street. Our previous meeting had been 
 a painful one for us both. My self-esteem had received 
 a rude blow. But a little reflection was enough to 
 convince me that my friend was not to blame under the 
 circumstances, and I resolved that it should make no 
 difference to our friendship. Accordingly, at the 
 second meeting, I promised to call next day. But it 
 was not until a week later that my promise was remem- 
 bered. Such forgetting cannot be explained as mere 
 oversight. The engagement could not be regarded as 
 too trivial to be recalled. Why then was it forgotten ? 
 Freud in his " Psycho-pathology of Everyday Life," has 
 shown that such forgetting is due to repression. It is 
 not a passive process but an active one. Apart from my 
 resolve there was something within me that shrank from 
 a renewal of the painful experience. The tendencies 
 of the " unconscious " were at variance with the purpose 
 of personal consciousness. There was a temporary 
 
38 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 
 
 " dissociation/ ' a cleavage of interests, and a consequent 
 forgetting. It is not enough to secure dissociation, that 
 there should be conflict of impulses. One of them must 
 attain such ascendancy as to drive the other, temporarily 
 at least, out of the realm of personal consciousness. For 
 the time being the repressed experience is beyond 
 recall. The hypocrite, who, to use a common witticism 
 " prays to his God on Sunday, and preys on his neigh- 
 bours on Monday," may not be a conscious hypocrite. 
 There may be such a dissociation of interests that he is 
 utterly unaware of his inconsistency. This dissociation 
 may be so extensive and complete that we may have 
 the phenomena of double or even multiple personality, 
 a veritable Dr. Jeykell and Mr. Hyde. The " sub- 
 conscious " school, to which we referred in Chapter I, 
 has made extensive use of this conception of dissociation 
 to explain the phenomena of hypnotism, amnesia 
 (pathological forgetting), multiple personality, etc. 
 The idea has proved both valid and useful. But Freud 
 goes deeper still and asks, How does this dissociation 
 come about ? His answer is, By repression. Repres- 
 sion produces dissociation, and dissociation results in 
 forgetting. There are two types of forgetting. One 
 type is due to lack of interest. I may read the results 
 of last Saturday's football match and forget them 
 immediately, because I have little interest in football. I 
 forget a painful engagement, not because I am not 
 interested. I have a painful interest in it. But I 
 forget it because it is repressed by a positive aversion 
 to unpleasant experiences. And we cannot emphasize 
 too much the fact that repressed, forgotten experiences 
 are not " dead and done with " ; they live on and exert 
 an unrecognized influence upon our waking life, and in 
 our dreams and moments of absent-mindedness find 
 their most unfettered expression. 
 
DREAMS 39 
 
 6. FEAR DREAMS 
 
 Let us turn now to another objection to Freud's dream 
 theory. Even in the form we have stated it, substitut- 
 ing " satisfaction of tendency " for " wish-fulfilment," 
 the common phenomena of " fear dreams " apparently 
 shatter the whole hypothesis. 
 
 Before attempting to answer this objection we must 
 point out that there is no one simple explanation which 
 will account for all fear dreams. Each dream must be 
 taken separately and explained by its analysis. This 
 is obviously an impossible task. Absolute proof of our 
 contention cannot therefore be established. But it is 
 possible to indicate certain considerations which will 
 show how such dreams can be understood. 
 
 First of all we must bear in mind that a certain degree 
 of fear is a source of satisfaction. Without it life would 
 lose its adventure. A fear dream may be the realization 
 of a desire to escape from the humdrum round of real 
 life. As such it may be classed with " blood-curdling " 
 novels, cinema films and theatrical displays which 
 appeal mainly to this emotion. It may be objected 
 that in the dream the individual plays the leading part, 
 while in these entertainments he is a mere spectator. 
 To this it is sufficient to reply that the picture or the play 
 is only really effective in so far as it compels the spectator 
 to " identify " himself with the fortunes of the dramatis 
 persona. 
 
 But when fear is intensified into terror, or because of 
 the vague mystery of its object, assumes the form of 
 anxiety, then this explanation obviously breaks down. 
 In the case of terror we reach, as Freud points out, the 
 limit of the hypothesis. In the dream, as in real life, 
 terror is due to a feeling of utter helplessness in the face 
 of an imminent and terrible danger. The desire to 
 escape is frustrated. But just at the moment the fatal 
 blow is about to fall the sleeper invariably awakes. If 
 
40 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 
 
 we accept Freud's theory that the dream is the guardian 
 of sleep we shall see that his " wish-fulfilment " conten- 
 tion breaks down just at the point that the dream itself 
 fails. If we consider that the terror dream invalidates 
 this dream theory, then, in the name of consistency, we 
 must deny that in waking life the fear-flight instinct 
 is a mechanism of self-preservation, because in the 
 extreme case of terrified collapse it fails to fulfil its 
 function. 
 
 The case of anxiety is more difficult. Anxiety is 
 akin to suspense. 1 In both there is an element of hope, 
 however small. But the hope does not relieve. It 
 constitutes that incalculable element which makes dread 
 harder to bear for many natures than the actual calamity. 
 The difference between anxiety and suspense lies in the 
 sense of responsibility. In true suspense this sense is 
 absent because nothing can be done. We can only 
 watch and wait. But in anxiety there is always, at 
 least, a feeling that some measures of precaution or 
 remedy can be taken. Hence the sense of respon- 
 sibility. For instance, during the recent war, relatives 
 at home were in a state of suspense as to the safety of 
 their loved ones at the front. They could do nothing 
 one way or the other to affect it. But the element of 
 anxiety was also revealed in the shoals of letters and 
 parcels that were dispatched every day. It was possible 
 to some degree to relieve the mental burden and the 
 physical hardships of the fighting men. To this extent 
 suspense was changed into anxiety. This illustration 
 will make clear what Freud means when he says that 
 anxiety is a " defence mechanism." It was a defence 
 against the dread that the " boys " might be suffering 
 from an insufficient supply of clothing, food, etc. 
 Anxiety in dreams, and in waking life, is the emotion 
 
 1 The writer has no record of a genuine suspense dream. If 
 such a dream is possible it would constitute, he feels, an 
 unanswerable argument against Freud's theory. Temporary 
 suspense there may be, but it is bound to obtain relief or end in 
 the terror that awakens the sleeper. 
 
DREAMS 41 
 
 that prompts to the provision of safeguards against 
 some dreaded danger. If these measures are successful 
 the wish is fulfilled. If they fail, anxiety issues in 
 collapse, and the sleeper awakes. 
 
 These are general considerations which will at least 
 show that the Freudian theory is not to be dismissed 
 summarily because many dreams are coloured by the 
 painful emotion of fear. When we come down from the 
 general to the particular we find still further evidence 
 which confirms the theory. Let us consider very 
 briefly two types of anxiety dreams — those which centre 
 round examinations and the missing of trains. 
 
 The clue to the understanding of examination dreams 
 was given to Freud by his colleague Dr. Stekel. 1 The 
 latter observed that in his experience the examination 
 dream occurs only to those who have passed the 
 examination, never to those who have gone to pieces 
 on it. In his waking life the individual is confronted 
 by some difficult problem or test. In his dreams he 
 goes back to his old examinations. It is as though the 
 dream said to him, " You worried about your examina- 
 tion. There was no need, you got through. You will 
 get through your present troubles." 
 
 The missing of trains finds a similar consoling explana- 
 tion. An obvious and common association in such 
 dreams is, train — depart — death. The missing of the 
 train in such a case implies therefore — you are not 
 going to die yet. From this simple example it will 
 be seen how important the analysis by association is,) 
 if we are to arrive at the true interpretation. We do 
 not wish, however, that it should be taken for granted 
 that all dreams of this type have the same meaning. 
 The only safe way of interpretation is by careful analysis 
 of such instances. 
 
 There is another type of dream which we may con- 
 sider here. It is the dream of the death of relatives and 
 friends. These fall roughly into two classes — one, in 
 1 " Interpretation of Dreams," p. 231. 
 
42 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 
 
 which the dreamer feels the sorrow natural to such an 
 occasion, and another in which no such emotion is felt. 
 In the second case the dream tendencies have no concern 
 with the death. Analysis reveals the death is just the 
 occasion for the realization of utterly extraneous 
 interests. Freud gives a particularly good example 
 of this type. 1 A young lady patient related the dream 
 thus : " I saw little Charles lying dead before me. He 
 was lying in his little coffin, his hands folded ; there were 
 candles all about, and, in short, it was just like the time 
 of little Otto's death which shocked me so profoundly." 
 The analysis revealed that on the occasion of the funeral 
 of Charles' little brother Otto, a certain professor had 
 been present, whom the young lady loved and had 
 reasonable expectations of marrying. But the inter- 
 ference of relatives had put an end to the expectations. 
 The love, however, persisted and the young lady sought 
 every opportunity of seeing her beloved at a distance. 
 The dream meant, therefore, that she wanted a renewal 
 of the old understanding and the opportunity to get 
 into such close relations to the professor as the funeral 
 of her nephew Otto had provided. At the time she 
 related the dream she had in her bag a ticket for a 
 concert at which the professor was to be present. 
 
 But in the type of death dream where sorrow is 
 present the explanation is different. Analysis reveals 
 that the sorrowful emotion is the outcome of a repressed 
 " wish that the person in question may die," or, as we 
 should prefer to put it, it is the result of repressed hostile 
 tendencies. These tendencies probably belong to 
 early childhood. They are not incompatible with real 
 affection. Love and hate quickly succeed one another 
 in the changeable world of a child's emotions. As 
 a rule the hatred is suppressed and forgotten. But it 
 lives on in the form of excessive sorrow at the mere 
 idea of harm befalling the loved one. The bitterest 
 drop in the cup of bereavement is the memory of un- 
 1 Op. cit., p. 128. 
 
DREAMS 43 
 
 kindness or indifference to the one we have lost. The 
 relation of brothers and sisters, children and parents, 
 is not that unmingled affection which some of us would 
 fain persuade ourselves it is. Rebellion and jealousy 
 play a part in the drama of early life which is uncon- 
 genial to the standards of later years. I have an 
 authentic record of a tiny tot who, on being taken to see 
 her newly born little sister, promptly slapped the baby's 
 face. My own little boy of eleven months is generally 
 regarded as a bright and lovable little fellow, but if his 
 strongest appetites or impulses are thwarted he is 
 capable of displaying a passion which would be alarm- 
 ing if it were equalled by his physical strength and skill. 
 Life and property are not sacred to the child. He knows 
 nothing of the rights of others. He feels only his own 
 imperious desires, and nothing must stand in the way of 
 their gratification. As the child grows these passionate 
 impulses are usually repressed. But if they are merely 
 forced into the background of the unconscious, they will 
 live on and find expression of some kind, if it is only 
 in the world of dreams. This conception of the nature 
 of childhood's passions has met with great opposition. 
 It certainly does not express the whole truth. But we 
 shall consider the question more fully when we deal with 
 the nature of the unconscious. 
 
 7. SOURCES OF DREAMS 
 
 The consideration of the part childhood impulses 
 play in dream life brings us to the question of the sources 
 of dreams. There are three — (1) recent experiences ; 
 (2) childhood experiences ; (3) sensational experiences. 
 
 The dream never deals with trivialities, but always with 
 vital concerns of the individual. If this is apparently 
 contradicted by the manifest content it is confirmed 
 by the latent content. According to Freud there is 
 present in every dream, some element, important or 
 
44 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 
 
 trivial, which is taken from the experiences of the 
 previous day. There is a mass of evidence to support 
 this, but the writer is unable to confirm it as universally- 
 true in his own experience. But there is no doubt 
 that it is true of a vast number of cases. 
 
 That the dream usually involves childhood experiences 
 will not be so readily admitted. Many dreams find an 
 obvious and satisfactory explanation by means of 
 comparatively late experiences. But a dream may have 
 more than one meaning. It may have many. If the 
 analysis is continued it is often found that earlier and 
 yet earlier periods of life are involved. At first sight 
 this may seem to prove that the method of interpreta- 
 tion is worthless, or at least that its results are unreliable. 
 But a right conception of the nature of consciousness 
 will help us to see this problem in its true light. Our 
 whole past lives on in the present, not indeed in the 
 form of a storehouse of impressions and memories, 
 which may or may not be accessible to us, which may 
 or may not be exerting an influence on present 
 experience ; but the past lives on as an ever-active 
 determination of the present. According to this view, 
 memory is just the reference of these determining 
 impulses to the experiences in which they originated. 
 " Our past, as a whole," Bergson says, " is made mani- 
 fest to us in its impulse ; it is felt in the form of tendency 
 although a small part of it only is known in the form of 
 idea." Now an idea is just an impulse rendered 
 luminous and relatively definite. Mere impulse lacks 
 this quality of luminosity and definiteness. It may 
 find its satisfaction in various ways, so long as these are 
 not inconsistent with the general trend of the impulse. 
 What happens then in dream analysis is this. During 
 free association, active interest in the external world 
 is suspended. A fragment of the dream is presented 
 and the appropriate impulse is thus stimulated. This 
 impulse now must find its gratification in past 
 experiences. Occasionally some one experience stands 
 
DREAMS 45 
 
 out as pre-eminent, but often enough it has close rivals. 
 Take for instance, the analysis of the dream of the 
 wringing of the neck of the little dog (page 28). Here 
 the patient has a succession of impressions, wringing 
 the necks of pigeons and fowls, pictures and stories of 
 executions, all of which furnish more or less satisfactory 
 outlets for the impulse. If we were able to follow up 
 the analysis, we should probably find in spite of the 
 patient's assertion that she " could not hurt a fly," that 
 her sister-in-law was not the only person against whom 
 her unconscious harboured a vindictive design. 
 
 A dream of my own may serve to make these points 
 clear. In my dream I stood at the lower end of the down 
 platform of the railway station of my native place. A 
 train was just moving out on that side but in the wrong 
 direction. A man of athletic build, clad in a light grey 
 suit, ran along the platform and attempted to board the 
 train. But losing his foothold he slipped between the 
 platform and the footboard. He was followed by a 
 stouter person bearing on his back a big square box, 
 so large that it would have been useless for him to 
 attempt to enter any compartment. When the train 
 was gone I was talking to a third person whom we will 
 designate C. There was another train at the opposite 
 platform going in the right direction, and as it began 
 to move off C ran across the metals and boarded it from 
 the permanent way. C was the only one of the three 
 persons whom I definitely recognized. The dream 
 occurred at a time when I was trying to fill a post which 
 had been resigned after an angry altercation. The post 
 had been temporarily filled but the man I regarded as 
 being most suitable for the work was C. Starting from 
 this point with my free associations I recognized the 
 athletic figure as the one who was doing temporary 
 duty. Though I could not see his face I identified him 
 by his build and his clothes. The man with the box 
 was apparently the man who had resigned. The mean- 
 ing of my dream was thus made clear. Though I had no 
 
46 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 
 
 personal objection towards the temporary substitute, 
 h s admitted lack of proficiency led me to desire that his 
 engagement should soon be terminated. Thus in the 
 dream he meets with an accident and fails to board the 
 train. C was the candidate I favoured and whose elec- 
 tion was secured in the dream under the symbol of his 
 successful attempt to board the train which was going 
 in the right direction. This interpretation involves 
 only recent experience. But if we start as Freud 
 advised from the most obscure part of the dream, we 
 shall see that it leads to earlier experiences, and to the 
 fulfilment of different desires. Now the most vague 
 part of the dream was the accident. Starting from this 
 I recall a similar accident at the same station, the story 
 of which greatly impressed me as a boy. From this 
 point the associations run along two different but 
 ultimately converging lines. The first line begins with 
 the memory of an occasion, when, in my early years I 
 attempted to board a swiftly moving tramcar. I was 
 carrying a basket and the attempt was clumsily made. 
 The result was that I was flung down into the road, but 
 fortunately not hurt. From this, memories of early 
 blunders and painful experiences crop up, the conse- 
 quences of which I am aware persist up to the present. 
 The two men who failed to enter the train seem to 
 stand for wrong personal interests badly executed. 
 Their identity is blurred. I do not wish to remember or 
 recognize them. But C, with whom I am more recently 
 acquainted, apparently represents new and right 
 interests, which in my dream, at least, are being fulfilled. 
 His identity is clearly perceived. Nevertheless he 
 boards the train, after it has started, not from the platform 
 but from the permanent way. This apparently trifling 
 detail of the dream confirms the course of the free 
 associations which lead on from childhood mistakes to 
 the present hope and assurance that analytical insight 
 (a belated and unorthodox attempt to board the train 
 of personal ambitions) will enable me to nullify the 
 
DREAMS 47 
 
 effects of the blunders of early years. The second line 
 of associations, starting from the accident in the dream, 
 runs briefly in a similar direction. It goes back again 
 to boyhood. I remember very vividly the story of how a 
 little baby relative of mine had witnessed a shocking 
 railway accident. For long after this the mere sight 
 of sparrows on the railway line caused the little one 
 to cry out in alarm. Since then that relative has 
 grown up and has suffered from some trouble, which to 
 me, knowing few of the details, has been obscure. My 
 next association is a recent conversation with a medical 
 friend as to the likelihood of such a case proving amen- 
 able to psycho-analytical treatment. Thus along 
 different lines the associations converge on a hope that 
 increased insight into hidden psychical processes will 
 result in a more effective and satisfactory adaptation 
 to life's demands. Even now the interpretation is not 
 exhausted. But as Freud points out every dream 
 analysis leads into the infinite. It cannot be exhausted. 
 Another point this dream illustrates besides the child- 
 hood memories, is the ego-centric interests of the dream. 
 The hero of the dream is always the self. The manifest 
 content of the dream, as in the one we have just cited, 
 may appear to contradict this contention, but the latent 
 content abundantly confirms it. 
 
 The third source from which dreams are drawn is 
 sensational experience. We use the word " sensa- 
 tional " in its psychological and not in its everyday 
 significance. Doubtless the reader will be able to 
 supply instances from memory of dreams which have 
 been woven round some bodily sensation. Sensations 
 of pain, hunger, cold, etc., and those arising from 
 digestive disorders, and so on, may all act as dream 
 stimuli. In fact attempts have been made to explain 
 all dreams along this line. But the attempt has met 
 with little success. In the first place it has been found 
 impossible to identify any sensational element in a vast 
 number of dreams, and in the second place, even where 
 
48 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 
 
 such experiences are present, we have still to explain 
 the strange use that is made of them. Digestive 
 disorders may favour dream-making, but they do not 
 explain the form the dream takes. We cannot leave 
 this aspect of the subject without drawing attention to 
 the fact that the dream may not merely use a sensa- 
 tional element, but may definitely and emphatically 
 deny it. Freud gives a specially good example of this. 
 At a time when he was suffering from furunculosis, he 
 dreamt he was riding a horse, a thing that would have 
 been utterly impossible under the conditions. In the 
 dream the wish to be free from this painful disease was 
 thus fulfilled. 
 
 8. DREAM WORK 
 
 We have seen that in nearly all adult dreams the 
 tendency fulfilment is nearly always more or less 
 disguised, and that this disguise is due to the repressing 
 activity of the endopsychic censor. We must now 
 briefly consider how the disguise is brought about. 
 
 The first factor that plays a part in this work is that 
 of condensation. A comparison of the manifest and 
 latent contents of any dream will show that the latter 
 is very much more extensive than the former. Each 
 item of the dream is over-determined. Thus the 
 railway accident which occurs in the dream related in 
 the last section is determined by not less than three 
 separate experiences, the memory of the story of a 
 similar accident at the same station, the memory of the 
 attempt to board a tramcar, and the memory of the 
 startling accident witnessed by my baby relative. This 
 condensation may take place by the processes of 
 identification and of fusion. In the latter process two 
 or more different persons or places are fused together. 
 The dream person may have hair that reminds the 
 dreamer of one acquaintance, a beard that reminds him 
 of a second, and a manner that arouses thoughts of a 
 
DREAMS 49 
 
 third. The process of fusion indicates that for the 
 dreamer these persons have some emotional significance 
 for him in common. The fusion of words is of frequent 
 occurrence. One of the instances given by Freud — 
 Norekdal, is commonly cited. It is the fusion of two of 
 the names of Ibsen's characters, Nora and Ekdal. Dr. 
 Ernest Jones gives other illustrations — Magna from 
 Maggie and Edna ; Kipperling from Rippling, and 
 Kipper. 1 In the process of identification we have some- 
 thing which is akin to substitution. Two persons or 
 places are merged together till the identity of the one 
 is almost completely lost in the other. It is, of course, 
 the obscured person or place that is really the important 
 one. The commonest identification is of ourselves 
 with some other person. In the train dream we have 
 analysed it will be seen how I identify myself with all 
 three persons concerned, but it is only in the case of C 
 that the process is completely satisfactory. 
 
 The second factor at work in dream disguise is that of 
 displacement. This is the name given to that dream 
 activity which provides the dream with a false centre 
 of interest. The thing that stands out most clearly 
 in the dream is often the least important factor. It 
 is the part that is most obscure and most readily 
 forgotten that is usually of most vital concern. The 
 reason for this is obvious if we accept the theory of a 
 repressing censorship. The emotions aroused in the 
 dream are frequently incongruous, or out of proportion 
 with the object that arouses them. This, according to 
 Freud, is because the emotion has been displaced and 
 attached to some relatively insignificant object, with 
 the result that the vigilance of the censor is evaded. 
 Thus we see in the dream of the train, if we begin the 
 free associations from the clearly recognized C, we are 
 led to a relatively superficial interpretation which was 
 in complete harmony with my fully conscious and 
 
 1 " Papers on Psycho-analysis." Dr. Ernest Jones, pp. 92 ff. 
 Bailliere, Tyndall and Cox, 191 8. 
 
 4 
 
50 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 
 
 avowed intentions. There was no need to dream since 
 there was little or no repression, nor was I so concerned 
 about the problem that it should disturb my sleep. 
 But the interest of the dream belongs mainly to the 
 accident, which was rather obscure and not of great 
 manifest emotional significance. Starting from this 
 point my associations are more personal and intimate, 
 so much so that I find I have invented the want of space 
 as an excuse for abbreviating and generalizing 
 them. 
 
 These two factors, Condensation and Displacement, 
 are the " two craftsmen to whom we may chiefly attribute 
 the moulding of the dream." 1 But there are two other 
 factors which determine the course of the dream, regard 
 for presentability and secondary elaboration. The effect 
 of the former is the substitution of harmless and innocent 
 operations for activities which would arouse the opposi- 
 tion of the censor. We are thus brought face to face 
 with the question of symbolism in dreams. Freud 
 claims from the examination of an enormous number 
 of dreams that certain activities in dreams have 
 practically always a common significance. This is 
 antecedently probable, but we believe that the reader 
 will be wise in attempting to interpret his own dreams, 
 to ignore these symbols and adhere steadfastly to the 
 method of free association. To deal with the question 
 of symbolism at this stage would only result in impart- 
 ing a bias to these associations. We therefore strongly 
 recommend that dreams should be interpreted first of 
 all without a knowledge of symbolism. It is more 
 difficult, but the results will be more convincing. Later, 
 if more information is desired on this subject, the 
 reader might refer to the works of Freud, Jones and 
 Silberer. 
 
 Secondary elaboration is due to the censor. Not 
 everything in the dream is due to the unconscious. 
 Many people will remember occasions, when during 
 
 1 "Interpretation of Dreams," p. 286. 
 
DREAMS 51 
 
 the course of the dream, the dreamer says to himself, 
 "It is only a dream." In this way the censor 
 is consoled for having allowed repugnant material 
 to creep in. But the general effect of secondary 
 elaboration is to bring the dream thoughts into a more 
 consistent unity resembling the operations of conscious 
 thought. 
 
 But we cannot close this brief exposition of Freud's 
 dream theory without drawing attention to one more 
 point. Freud maintains that all the dreams that occur 
 in one night are concerned with the same interests. An 
 interesting confirmation of this occurred in the 
 experience of the writer a few months ago. A married 
 lady friend related a dream in which she was playing 
 the piano. But instead of ordinary music she was 
 confronted by exquisitely beautiful vases. Her playing 
 translated their visible into audible beauty. A few 
 associations were sufficient to lay bare the underlying 
 wish — the desire for a child. When this was intimated 
 to the dreamer, she immediately confessed that she had 
 had a second dream in which the wish was more 
 explicitly manifested, thus confirming Freud's con- 
 tention that later dreams are usually less disguised 
 expressions of earlier ones. 
 
 9. JUNG S THEORY 
 
 The exposition of dream theory given above is an 
 attempt to state as briefly and clearly as possible the 
 doctrines of Freud, to whom is due the credit or, as many 
 think, the discredit of opening up the dream world to 
 the light of waking consciousness. We must now con- 
 sider the modifications of this theory introduced by 
 Dr. Jung of Zurich. 
 
 In the first place we should bear in mind the emphatic 
 and oft repeated assertion of Jung that, as far as the 
 theory of dreams is concerned, his contentions do not 
 
52 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 
 
 contradict the theory we have expounded, but 
 supplement it. 
 
 The elaboration of the doctrine affects three main 
 points : (a) compensation ; (b) symbolism, and (c) 
 fmalism. 
 
 (a) Compensation. — Jung maintains that dreams have 
 a compensating function and cites the example of 
 Nebuchadnezzar's dream in the fourth chapter of Daniel. 
 " He dreamed of a tree which had raised its head even 
 up to heaven and now must be hewn down. This is a 
 dream which is obviously a counterpoise to the exagge- 
 rated feeling of royal power." 1 Vicious dreams he 
 regards as a compensation for the suppressed evil 
 tendencies of a virtuous life. Here we are bound to 
 confess that we feel he carries his theory of compensation 
 too far. As we shall endeavour to show in the next 
 chapter, the unconscious knows nothing of the distinc- 
 tion between good and evil. These are distinctions 
 which belong entirely to the realm of consciousness. 
 But apart from this, Jung's compensation idea is merely 
 another way of putting Freud's wish-fulfilment theory. 
 But it raises an interesting question which Freud states 
 and answers thus. " Should we take lightly the ethical 
 significance of the suppressed wishes which as they now 
 create dreams, may some day create other things ? I 
 do not feel justified in answering these questions. I 
 have not thought further on this side of the dream 
 problem. I believe, however, that at all events, the 
 Roman Emperor was in the wrong who ordered one of 
 his subjects to be executed because the latter dreamt 
 that he had killed the Emperor. He should first have 
 endeavoured to discover the significance of the dream ; 
 most probably it was not what it seemed to be. And 
 even if a dream of different content had the significance 
 of this offence against majesty, it would have still been 
 in place to remember the words of Plato, that the 
 virtuous man contents himself with dreaming that which 
 1 " Analytical Psychology," Jung, p. 281. 
 
DREAMS 53 
 
 the wicked man does in actual life. I am, therefore, of 
 opinion that it is best to accord freedom to dreams." 1 
 It would be a rash thing for the present writer to dogma- 
 tize where such an experienced authority is diffident. 
 That the manifest content of dreams can be influenced 
 is indubitable ; and more than this the writer is con- 
 vinced that the affective quality can be to some extent 
 modified by suggestion. But whether the attempt to 
 control dreams without a radical sublimation of the 
 unconscious processes would be a wise course is a 
 question which we feel unable to answer. On the other 
 hand there is considerable evidence to show that psycho- 
 analytical treatment is attended by marked changes 
 in dream tendencies. And the writer's experience is 
 that, at least, a marked improvement in dream quality 
 may be achieved without deterioration in conscious life, 
 if this is accompanied by the insight into unconscious 
 processes such as psycho-analysis affords. Indeed, it 
 seems reasonable on the basis of Freud's theory to 
 question whether any sublimation is real that is not 
 attended by dream improvement. 
 
 (b) Symbolism. — The second point on which Jung 
 differs from Freud is the question of symbolism. We 
 have seen that the latter claims that certain operations 
 have a common symbolic significance. We have 
 refrained from giving an account of these so that the 
 reader may interpret his dreams without being biased 
 by the suggestion these contain. Jung cites the follow- 
 ing dream of one of his patients. " I was going up a 
 flight of stairs with my mother and sister. When we 
 reached the top I was told that my sister was soon to 
 have a child." Now according to Freud, going upstairs 
 has a common symbolic meaning. But Jung asks, 
 " If I say that the stairs are a symbol, . . . whence do 
 I obtain the right to regard the mother, the sister, and 
 the child as concrete ; that is, as not symbolic ? " 2 
 
 1 Freud, op. cit., p. 492. 
 
 2 Jung, op. cit., p. 301. 
 
54 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 
 
 This objection is apparently unanswerable. In any case 
 the procedure by thorough free association is in accord 
 with the principles of both schools. 
 
 (c) Finalism. — This question is of great practical and 
 theoretical importance. Jung fully admits the adequacy 
 of the theory we have endeavoured to expound in the 
 foregoing pages, as a causal explanation of dreams. It 
 answers satisfactorily the questions, What is the nature 
 of a dream, and how does it become to be what it is ? 
 But he contends that we must go further and ask, 
 What is the dream's purpose ? The answer that has 
 been already given to this question, that it is to guard 
 sleep, he regards not as untrue, but insufficient. The 
 tendencies that are active in the dream are not fully 
 denned in terms of their origin, but they are only fully 
 understood when we take into account their ends or 
 objects. This is what he means when he says that the 
 causal explanation of dreams must be supplemented 
 by the final. Every dream therefore may be interpreted 
 in two ways, in terms of the past experience in which 
 it finds its material, and also in terms of anticipated 
 experience in which it finds its satisfaction. But Jung 
 has weakened his contention by the introduction of 
 moral distinctions into the realm of the unconscious. 
 Both he and Freud have failed to take into account the 
 " herd instinct." Now this instinct is just as egocentric 
 and non-moral as the egotistic and sex instincts. It is 
 only altruistic in its effects. The conflict between the 
 herd instinct and the other two provides the basis for 
 moral life as soon as self consciousness dawns. But the 
 wolf that relinquishes private pursuits at the call of the 
 pack does not make a moral choice. It is just a question 
 of the relative strength of two impulses. This criticism 
 affects mainly the theoretical consistency of Jung's 
 position, but it is not without its bearings on the practical 
 side. We shall understand this better if we take a 
 concrete example. One of his patients related the 
 following dream. "lam standing in a strange garden, 
 
DREAMS 55 
 
 and pluck an apple from a tree. I look about cautiously 
 to make sure that no one sees me." 1 The dream was 
 attended by the " feeling of having a bad conscience/ ' 
 We will leave the causal explanation with just this 
 remark that it revealed as wrong but was not so regarded 
 by the patient. According to Jung this feeling of guilt 
 was due to an unconscious moral impulse. " By dis- 
 regarding these things he was really overlooking some- 
 thing in himself, for he possesses a moral standard and 
 a moral need just like any other man." We should 
 prefer to explain the feeling of guilt as due to the activity 
 of herd instinct. 2 The practical result of this distinction 
 would be that he might have been right in spite of the 
 feeling of guilt. As long as the conflict was on the level 
 of subpersonal consciousness the unrecognized operation 
 of this instinct would account for this feeling. But when 
 the real nature of the conflict has been rendered explicit 
 in the full light of personal consciousness then the man 
 is capable of exercising real moral choice. Then he may 
 rightly decide to do the act which had been the real 
 cause of his guilty feeling, unless we hold that the herd 
 is the final arbiter of right and wrong. But this brings 
 us face to face with questions of ethics. And here we 
 are compelled to side with Jung as against Freud. 
 
 Let us look at the problem in the light of another 
 concrete incident. A man comes to a psycho-analyst 
 for the treatment of psycho-sexual impotence, that is, 
 sexual impotence due to mental causes. The man is 
 freed from his disability by the treatment. Here, 
 according to the Vienna school the treatment ends. 
 
 1 Op. cit., p. 303. Readers who wish for further acquaintance 
 with Jung's work would be well advised to begin with his " Ana- 
 lytical Psychology." 
 
 2 This does not mean that the existence of conscience is denied, 
 or that it is merely the blind operation of herd instinct. Con- 
 science operates only on the level of full self consciousness. It 
 is not merely an emotion ; nor is it a kind of moral " faculty." 
 It is the self passing moral judgment upon the self. In the case 
 mentioned above there appears to be no real moral judgment, 
 but only herd emotion. 
 
56 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 
 
 It is no concern of the physician what the man does with 
 his newly found freedom. He may wreck the life of 
 some trusting girl, or help to swell the trade of the 
 prostitute. But we ask, Can such a man be regarded as 
 truly free when he is actuated by such impulses ? 
 Answer the question in which way we will we are face 
 to face with moral issues. To ignore them is not to 
 evade them. They cannot be evaded. To consider 
 them is to grant the fundamental contentions which lie 
 at the heart of Jung's position. For ourselves we cannot 
 see how the question of mental health can be isolated 
 from the question of moral well-being. We are quite 
 aware that it may be a doctor's duty in what we may 
 call the realm of physical medicine, to restore to health 
 and continued depredation some sick scoundrel, but we 
 cannot consider that in the realm of mental medicine 
 a doctor has completed his cure, if he has left his patient 
 with anti-social tendencies. What are really anti- 
 social tendencies may perhaps be a question of debate, 
 but it cannot be a question to be ignored. 
 
CHAPTER IV 
 THE NATURE OF THE UNCONSCIOUS 
 
 THE dream, it is claimed, is the via regia into the 
 unconscious. We are now in a position, therefore, 
 to pursue that road of discovery and explore 
 those hidden processes of the mind. But the reader 
 who wishes to form an impartial judgment on the 
 nature of the processes will be well advised to defer 
 the reading of this chapter till he has thoroughly analysed 
 a few of his own dreams in the way we have described. 
 The thorough analysis of a few dreams will be far more 
 valuable and illuminating than the cursory examination 
 of a larger number. To enable the reader to form such 
 an unbiased judgment we have refrained hitherto from 
 the consideration of the question of symbolism, and 
 from any detailed consideration of the nature of the 
 tendencies that find their satisfaction in dream activity. 
 The key to the dream lies in free association. The 
 association cannot be really free if it is influenced by 
 preconceived theories. But with patience and practice 
 there should be no insuperable difficulty in obtaining 
 that state of drifting consciousness which is the pre- 
 requisite of really free association. 
 
 I. TYPES OF UNCONSCIOUS TENDENCY 
 
 Having made this suggestion let us turn to the con- 
 siderations with which this chapter is concerned — the 
 nature of the unconscious processes The unconscious 
 
 57 
 
58 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 
 
 consists, not of ideas or emotions, but of tendencies. 
 It is true that psycho-analysts often use the terms 
 " unconscious idea," etc., but we have seen that this 
 usage is undesirable and we believe unnecessary. An 
 unconscious idea is not an idea at all. It is simply a 
 tendency. An unconscious emotion is not an emotion. 
 It is sometimes described asa" pent up " emotion, and 
 as such it plays a large part, as we shall see later, in 
 one form of psycho-therapy. But " pent up " emotion 
 will be better understood and described as a feeling of 
 tension due to the unresolved conflict of tendencies. 
 The tension is not unconscious. It is usually in the 
 very focus of consciousness. But the tendencies that 
 produce it may be unrecognized. Indeed, they may be 
 beyond the possibility of recognition by means of 
 volitional attention, and in this case they would belong 
 to that realm which Freud has named the unconscious. 
 If they can be recognized by voluntary attention 
 they belong to the sphere of the preconscious. At 
 the actual moment of recognition they are fully 
 conscious. 
 
 The concern of psycho-analysis is chiefly with the 
 tendencies that are described as unconscious. These 
 fall into three classes. In the first class we have the 
 tendency of which the subject is utterly unaware. As 
 an example of this we may take the man who has an 
 unconscious tendency to domineer over other people. 
 It is quite possible for him to be utterly oblivious of 
 such a tendency. It is the existence of this type of 
 phenomena that limits the usefulness and effectiveness 
 of self-analysis. Instance after instance of the domineer- 
 ing spirit may be provided to the man we are describing, 
 but he will either fail to take note of them or explain 
 them away by some agreeable, but unwitting subterfuge. 
 This limitation of self-analysis, however, may be to some 
 extent overcome by a knowledge of the tendencies that 
 psycho-analysis has revealed in human nature generally. 
 The second type of tendency which we would distinguish 
 
NATURE OF THE UNCONSCIOUS 59 
 
 is that in which the subject feels impelled towards some 
 end, but he has no clear idea of what the end is. In 
 such a case there is usually a feeling of restlessness and 
 dissatisfaction, which often enough ends in a man having 
 a smoke, a drink, or indulging in some other form of 
 " dissipation." Frequently the origin of this feeling 
 cannot be accounted for. This brings us to the third 
 type of tendency we would distinguish — the tendency 
 of unknown origin. As an example of this we may cite 
 the case which Dr. Rivers discusses at length in his 
 " Instinct and the Unconscious." It is a case of 
 claustrophobia— fear of enclosed places. The patient 
 had a morbid dread of closed rooms, tunnels and dug- 
 outs. But he could give no account for this. Analysis 
 subsequently revealed that its origin lay in a forgotten 
 incident of childhood, when the patient had been the 
 victim of a trying experience in an underground 
 passage. 
 
 There are three types of tendency then which we must 
 keep clearly in mind — the unknown tendency, the 
 tendency with an unknown end, and the tendency of 
 unknown origin. This classification is not strictly 
 logical, being neither exhaustive nor exclusive, but it 
 will serve to bring out the distinctions that are of 
 practical importance. It is the third type that mainly 
 concerns us. The criticisms of our social environment 
 may enlighten us with regard to the first ; and personal 
 reflection may go a long way towards the elucidation of 
 the second ; but the question of the origin is hidden from 
 our introspective gaze, and very frequently from the 
 critical scrutiny of friend and foe alike. But the question 
 is more obscure still. For very often when we are 
 unaware of the real cause of a tendency we invent an 
 explanation which may be personally but not 
 psychologically satisfactory. To this process of invented 
 explanation has been given the name of " rationaliza- 
 tion." 
 
60 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 
 
 2. RATIONALIZATION 
 
 This term is applied to that mental process by 
 which we substitute an explanation that is personally 
 agreeable for the real one which is uncongenial. This 
 substitution is not deliberate. It is the effect of the 
 general tendency to avoid the unpleasant. The explana- 
 tion is given in all sincerity and is regarded as adequate 
 and true. But more careful examination reveals its 
 inadequacy. 
 
 In the last chapter the writer related a dream of his 
 own. Up to a certain point the free associations were 
 given in detail ; after that they were abbreviated and 
 generalized, on the ground of limitation of space. But 
 a little reflection revealed that the real reason was an 
 unwillingness to divulge certain private, personal 
 memories. Another instance may be given from recent 
 personal history. A few months ago my baby boy 
 showed signs of digestive disorders. As these continued 
 for some time my wife and I discussed carefully all the 
 changes that we could remember having taken place in 
 his dietary about the time of the onset of the trouble. 
 Finding nothing that could account for it we set it down 
 to some change in the quality of the milk he was getting. 
 But as the trouble showed no signs of improving the 
 doctor was called in. He was unable to suggest the 
 cause till just as he was about to leave it occurred to 
 my wife to mention that she had been giving the child 
 rusks to eat. At once it was suspected that he had been 
 swallowing these without proper mastication, and subse- 
 quent events amply proved this. But why did it not 
 occur to either of us to mention the rusks when we were 
 considering the details of his food ? The answer to 
 that question, we both recognized, was that we were 
 pleased to think that he was now able to eat solid food, 
 and it was much easier to give him a rusk than to prepare 
 his liquid refreshment. To a third person the explana- 
 
NATURE OF THE UNCONSCIOUS 61 
 
 tion may seem patent and unavoidably obvious. But 
 to quote the old proverb in a slightly altered form — 
 there are none so blind as those who do not wish to see. 
 If the reader examines his own recent history in the 
 light of these remarks he will doubtless find abundant 
 evidence of rationalization. The excuses we offer for 
 our failings are often threadbare enough in the eyes of 
 those to whom they are presented, though in our own 
 they may appear respectable garments. To those who 
 are prone to excuse-making psycho-analysis would 
 suggest — apologize if necessary, but never make excuses. 
 In all departments of human activity this rationalizing 
 process may be seen at work, in religion, politics, 
 commerce, medicine, and even in science. Jones gives 
 an illustration from the sphere of medicine. Centuries 
 ago, on the grounds of a mythical aetiology of hysteria 
 certain drugs were prescribed for its treatment. These 
 drugs are still used in various forms. " 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 ' anti-spasmodics ' — 
 whatever that may mean/' 1 
 
 Actors, ministers, teachers, surgeons, physicians, 
 artists, poets, may all give their reasons for the vocations 
 they have accepted. But these reasons will be very 
 different from those crude primitive tendencies which 
 psycho-analysis claims to be the motive power of their 
 various activities. These tendencies are indignantly 
 denied and wrathfully repudiated. They link up the 
 finest and noblest achievements of human nature to 
 its basest and most degraded forms. Whether psycho- 
 analysis is right in doing this must be established by 
 strictly impartial scientific enquiry. There is no need 
 for hysterics. If the worst that has ever been " dis- 
 covered " by this new method of inquiry is true, it is 
 rather a ground for hope than for despair and disgust, 
 for the virtues of the saint are but the sublimated 
 1 " Papers on Psycho-analysis," p. 14. 
 
62 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 
 
 passions whose perversion has produced the sinner. 
 If the contentions of psycho-analysis are utterly wrong, 
 if there are no such tendencies in human nature, then 
 there is no need for alarm, for ideas are powerless, so 
 modern psychology tells us, unless they are the expre- 
 sion of tendencies. This does not mean that any Tom, 
 Dick, or Harry should be allowed to exploit the method 
 any more than he is allowed to trade in drugs or dyna- 
 mite. The only argument against the prosecution of 
 this inquiry that remains, is that it is better to " let 
 sleeping dogs lie." But the answer is obvious. The 
 dogs are by no means all asleep. The world is full of 
 snarling destroying passions. And those that are asleep, 
 how long will they sleep ? In short, our contention is 
 this — if these tendencies do exist in human nature, it 
 is better that we should know it that we may have at 
 least a clear conception of the problem that we have to 
 solve ; if they do not exist, then not all the psycho- 
 analysts in the world can create them. These con- 
 siderations do not prove that the contentions of 
 psycho-analysis are right. They are not intended to do 
 that. They are intended only as preliminary considera- 
 tions which will enable us to bring to the subject a 
 judgment that is as unbiased as possible. 
 
 3. TENDENCIES. MODES OF ACTIVITY 
 
 Before we inquire what is the nature of these repressed 
 tendencies it will help us to get a clearer understanding 
 of the problems we have to consider if we glance briefly 
 at the part tendencies play in the phenomena of be- 
 haviour. Everything we do or say or think is the 
 outcome of the interaction of tendency with environment. 
 The most fleeting fancy that finds a momentary lodg- 
 ment in the mind is the product of such interaction. 
 The environment is not passively accepted, nor does 
 it mechanically determine the forms of mental activity, 
 
NATURE OF THE UNCONSCIOUS 63 
 
 Particular features of the environment are selected for 
 special attention, and particular relations are selected 
 for special modification. This selection is determined 
 by the psychical tendencies of the organism. 
 
 But these tendencies or cravings or urges, as they are 
 sometimes called, are not to be conceived as existing 
 in isolation from the cognitive and affective processes 
 of the mind. They constitute the dynamic factor in 
 all psychical activity. By widening McDougall's 
 definition of instinct to include acquired tendencies, 
 and these having ideational or conceptual ends, 1 we 
 obtain a conception of the phenomena which is psycho- 
 logically satisfactory. A tendency is a psycho-physical 
 disposition which determines, firstly, the direction of 
 attention to specific kinds of situations, and, secondly, 
 the nature of the affective and conational responses 
 that are thereby evoked. In other words our interests 
 determine the manner of our response to the world of 
 things and thoughts in which we live. 
 
 Tendencies may be classified as innate or acquired. 
 The important point for us to bear in mind is that the 
 latter are always modifications of the former. New 
 interests do not suddenly appear from nowhere. If 
 this were possible psychology would be impossible. 
 It is true apparent exceptions to this rule are by no 
 means uncommon. There are occasions when new 
 impulses, and indeed new personalities, which seem to 
 find no explanation in previous experience, do suddenly 
 emerge. But we must give up all hope of explaining 
 
 1 This use of the word " tendency " is, perhaps, wider than the 
 usual. What we wish to emphasize is the conative element in 
 all mental process. All our life is governed by an interaction 
 with environment, determined partly by the nature of that 
 environment and partly by the more or less specific and plastic 
 types of conation with which the individual is endowed. In man 
 there is an impulse to attempt to co-ordinate these tendencies. 
 Graham Wallas calls it " Thought Instinct." It is this 
 apparently that Freud refers to by the name of " Reality 
 Principle." We may deny it the name of Instinct, we may 
 prefer to call it reason, but we can hardly deny that it is a 
 dynamic factor of consciousness. 
 
64 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 
 
 such phenomena, if we do not believe that we shall 
 ultimately be able to explain them as modifications of 
 innate dispositions in the course of their interaction 
 with a changing environment. 
 
 The question now arises, In what respect is a tendency 
 modifiable ? Fundamentally it cannot be altered. It 
 may be strengthened by exercise, or weakened by lack 
 of exercise. The occasion of its stimulation may vary 
 as the result of experience. Take the case of a horse 
 which shies at an old coat lying on the roadside. His 
 master brings him back, and quietly but firmly insists 
 on his facing the dreaded object, till at last he sniffs at 
 it with curiosity and finally becomes indifferent. This 
 does not mean that the fear-flight instinct is eradicated. 
 The horse may still be afraid of steam-rollers, and no 
 matter how well he is trained it will always be possible 
 for some situation to occur which will stimulate this 
 disposition. What actually happens is that objects 
 acquire new affective meanings ; they stimulate a 
 different tendency or combination of tendencies. It 
 is most important that it should be clearly understood 
 that a tendency does not discriminate. If it is stimu- 
 lated at all it can only identify. Thus for the fear 
 instinct of a nervous horse, an old coat lying by the side 
 of the road, or a heap of stones, or a crouching beast 
 are all one and the same thing. They have the same 
 affective meaning. Their resemblances are perceived 
 but their differences are ignored. This is what is meant 
 by the process of identification, a process of the utmost 
 importance because of the part it plays in primitive 
 thought, both of the individual and of the race. " The 
 tendencies of the primitive mind — as observed in 
 children, in savages, in wit, in dreams, in insanity and 
 other products of unconscious functioning — to identify 
 different objects and fuse together different ideas, to 
 note the resemblances and not the differences, is a 
 universal and most characteristic feature, although only 
 those familiar with the material in question will 
 
NATURE OF THE UNCONSCIOUS 65 
 
 appreciate the colossal scale on which it is manifested. 
 It impresses one as being one of the most fundamental 
 and primordial attributes of the mind." 1 In its pure 
 form it is manifested only on the level of pure instinctive 
 activity. When learning by experience is introduced 
 the factor of discrimination appears. This factor 
 manifests its maximum of activity in the deliberate 
 reflection of self consciousness. At the same time it is 
 not strictly correct to say that identification is the 
 perception of resemblance. It is rather the uniform and 
 active response to the common element perceived in 
 varying situations and objects. 
 
 Identification is the basis of symbolism. But symbol 
 formation only begins on the ideational level of con- 
 sciousness. The coat lying on the roadside is not the 
 symbol of a wild beast to the horse. Symbol formation 
 involves the substitution of a relatively simple and 
 agreeable object, activity or image for a relatively 
 complex or disagreeable one. But that substitution 
 is always determined by some underlying identity of 
 response witting or unwitting. Thus a box can never 
 be a symbol of the idea of liberty. The affective 
 responses are incompatible. But the wind can be and 
 is used as a symbol of freedom, while the colloquial 
 expression, " to be in a box," is frequently used to 
 express the idea of absence of freedom. This identity 
 of response may be quite unrecognized. Thus every- 
 body recognizes the sceptre as the symbol of power, 
 but how many have recognized the underlying connection 
 between the two ? This absence of recognition is 
 considered by psycho-analysts to be the mark of true 
 symbolism. Whether this restriction of the meaning 
 of the term is legitimate may be questioned, but there 
 can be no doubt that the distinction is an important one. 
 Both in dream activity and in waking life it enables 
 tendencies to find a satisfaction that would be denied 
 if the real significance of the symbol were clearly 
 1 Jones, op. cit., p. 147. 
 5 
 
66 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 
 
 understood. Interpreted in this sense the symbol is at 
 once a means of expression and concealment just as the 
 signs and passwords of freemasonry are a means of com- 
 munication between the initiated, while outsiders are 
 left in complete ignorance. This symbolic activity 
 involves, therefore, the conflict of two tendencies or 
 groups of tendencies, and is a kind of sublimation of 
 energies of which the censor cannot approve. When it 
 is carried to extremes it is an indication of extensive 
 and deep-rooted conflicts that are exhausting psychic 
 energy in useless strife. 
 
 One of the most striking features of this activity is 
 the similarity of its products in widely different times 
 and places. This similarity has been explained by Jung 
 as due to inheritance of archaic thought forms. But 
 with Jones we feel that a more satisfactory explanation 
 is to be found in regarding them as created afresh in each 
 individual through the operation of similar tendencies. 
 It is this uniformity that constitutes both the value and 
 the temptation of the activity. If dreams could be 
 reduced to the complication of universal symbols their 
 interpretation would be a matter of relative simplicity. 
 But even Freud admits that images that usually 
 have a definite symbolic meaning may vary in their 
 significance and on occasions must be taken at their 
 face value. 
 
 Restricting the use of the term, it is not surprising 
 that psycho-analysts find in sex life the most fruitful 
 field for the growth of symbols. Even those who would 
 question the accuracy of many of the particular applica- 
 tions of the theory would acknowledge this. Sex 
 instincts are so strong, and at the same time the object 
 of so much concealment that it is only to be expected 
 that they should give rise to varied and extensive 
 symbol formations. To convince us of this no extensive 
 investigation into the realms of anthropology and 
 philology is necessary ; a frank examination of every- 
 day experience is sufficient. The results of such 
 
NATURE OF THE UNCONSCIOUS 67 
 
 research would no doubt be a revelation to most people 
 as to the extent and variety of this type of psychical 
 activity. But while ready to accept such evidence and 
 ready to grant the general truth of such contentions it 
 is very probable that most people will object to the 
 legitimacy of defining the symbol as an agreeable image 
 substituted for an associated but disagreeable one. 
 With this criticism we agree. The term covers the 
 substitution of a relatively simple and concrete image 
 for a relatively complex and abstract one. At the same 
 time it cannot be too plainly emphasized that it is the 
 former type of symbolism that is of especial value in 
 the exploration of the hidden processes of the mind, 
 and that we need to be on our guard against the strong 
 tendency to explain every instance as an example of 
 the second type. 
 
 Then again while the symbol itself remains constant 
 over considerable periods of the history of the individual 
 or of the race, its affective meaning may vary to a very 
 great extent. This development is a psychical fact 
 that demands, we maintain, more consideration than 
 orthodox Freudians are usually willing to grant. With- 
 out taking this aspect of the question into consideration 
 we are not in a position to estimate rightly the signifi- 
 cance of the symbol either for the individual or the race. 
 We are prepared to admit that the secret of the capacity 
 of a given symbol powerfully to stimulate the mind lies 
 in its appeal to one or other of the great primary instincts, 
 but the stability of the symbol lies in its capacity to 
 arouse the activity of an organized system of interests. 
 And the question of primary importance is, What is 
 the present significance of the symbol, what is the nature 
 of the interests it evokes at the present moment ? If 
 these are in harmony with the main interests of the 
 individual or society then the question of origin is of 
 very secondary importance. But if it lacks such 
 harmony and therefore exerts upon the mind a tyran- 
 nical influence, it may be desirable to lay bare its origin 
 
68 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 
 
 and history in order to secure emancipation from its 
 baneful effects. For instance, it may be possible to 
 trace the ultimate origin of the Christian eucharist Or 
 mass to some crude, primitive and barbaric custom. 
 But the question of primary importance is, What is 
 its significance for the individuals and communities 
 that celebrate it to-day, what is the nature of the 
 interests that it calls into play, and of the cravings that 
 it claims to satisfy ? Are these interests in keeping 
 with a harmonious development of the personality, and 
 do they subserve a more effective and satisfactory 
 adaptation to environment ? It must be borne in mind 
 that what we are concerned to discover is not, the 
 theories or theology by which the custom is justified, 
 but the nature of the affective and conational processes 
 involved. 
 
 When a symbol fails to provide a means of such 
 adaptation as we have described, it is really a symptom 
 of some hidden conflict. Let us look for a moment at 
 the case of a man who through contact with modern 
 thought finds some symbol of his religious faith, some 
 item of his creed or practice called in question. Suppose, 
 for the sake of illustration, he is brought to realize that 
 his belief in eternal punishment is really an indefensible 
 gratification of an unrecognized cruelty tendency. 
 What possibilities are open to such a man ? In the 
 first place he may relinquish his old belief and leave the 
 tendency unsatisfied. But if the tendency is strong 
 this course will result in unbearable restlessness. In 
 the second place he may seek a new symbol, perhaps in 
 socialism, whereby he may gratify the tendency in a 
 more legitimate manner by denouncing and exposing 
 the wicked oppressions of the capitalist. In so far as 
 this provides a more satisfactory adaptation it is an 
 instance of sublimation. On the other hand the symbol 
 may be conserved by a modified interpretation which 
 calls into play a modified set of tendencies which do not 
 conflict with his developed moral judgment. In this 
 
NATURE OF THE UNCONSCIOUS 69 
 
 case the symbol is retained, but in an altered form. 
 Lastly he may defy the criticisms of modern thought 
 and cling to his old belief, probably affirming it with a 
 greater vehemence than ever. In this case the symbol 
 has become a symptom of mental conflict. Such an 
 instance affords insight into the mechanism of the 
 neurosis as Freud has explained it. It represents a 
 regression from the attitude of independent reasoning 
 to a relatively infantile attitude of unreasoning sub- 
 mission to authority, and the fixation of interest upon a 
 static symbol. Of this phenomena we shall have more 
 to say later. Meanwhile we trust that sufficient has 
 been said to show how important the subject is, if 
 adequate insight is to be gained into the hidden and 
 subtle working of the human mind. We have refrained 
 from giving examples of the common symbols that 
 occur in dreams because we believe the reader will be 
 more satisfied if he discovers these for himself. But it 
 must be clearly understood that this will involve taking 
 the dream piece by piece, and image by image, and with 
 great patience submitting each to a thorough process 
 of " free association," carefully following the instruc- 
 tions that were given in the last chapter. 
 
 4. PLEASURE-PAIN PRINCIPLE AND REALITY PRINCIPLE 
 
 In the last section we endeavoured to show how the 
 process of identification in interaction with the endo- 
 psychic censor produces the phenomena of symbolism. 
 Identification is due to the stimulation of the same 
 tendency by different " objects." But tendencies may 
 not only be stimulated, they may also be satisfied or 
 denied satisfaction. This brings us to the consideration 
 of what Freud has called the Pleasure-Pain and Reality 
 principles. As these terms have been usually defined 
 it seems to the present writer that the former is open to 
 
70 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 
 
 many of the criticisms that were passed on the pleasure- 
 pain theories of the Utilitarians. But the distinction, 
 while it was not discovered by the psycho-analytical 
 school, has received at its hands something like its 
 rightful position as a factor in mental development, and 
 we feel it is not impossible to state it in terms that 
 obviate the criticisms referred to. 
 
 Primarily, a tendency is a psychic " structure " 
 determining a mode of reaction. The successful 
 functioning of a tendency is attended by a feeling of 
 pleasure, while unsuccessful functioning is an occasion 
 of pain. This affective experience normally subserves 
 a more effective functioning of the disposition. " But 
 the satisfaction, which attends the successful operation 
 of an instinct, as pleasant, may itself become the object 
 of ' desire.' In this case an ' acquired appetite on the 
 ideational level can be formed in connexion with in- 
 stinctive activity.' "* As an example of this Dr. 
 Drever takes an illustration from school life. " The 
 teacher who always tries to make school work interesting 
 by effort on his part, to attract the pupils to attend by 
 means of story, picture, and, in short, all the tricks of 
 the ' show lesson,' not merely develops mental ' flabbi- 
 ness ' in these pupils, but also develops the ' appetite ' 
 for such lessons. Let us say the subject is geography. 
 There is developed in the class an ' interest in geog- 
 raphy,' but it is an ' interest disposition of the appetite 
 order.' It fastens upon the pleasant amusing parts of 
 the lesson, is impatient of everything not coming under 
 these categories, and ends in a ' craving ' for mere 
 amusement which becomes more and more fastidious 
 and difficult to satisfy, and which is accompanied, 
 on the intellectual side, by a greater and greater tendency 
 towards passivity in the mere enjoyment of the ex- 
 periences." 2 Such is the nature of the working of the 
 pleasure-pain principle. 
 
 1 Drever, " Instinct in Man." Cambridge, p. 254. 
 
 2 p. 255. Op. cit. 
 
NATURE OF THE UNCONSCIOUS 71 
 
 Freud is inclined to see in the reality principle a 
 genetic development from this. For ourselves we 
 should feel inclined to reverse the order of development. 
 As a matter of fact all psychical activity, we believe, 
 involves the three phases of cognition, conation and 
 affective experience. We may start with a craving or 
 tendency, but it is a craving for something however 
 vaguely defined, and it is conditioned by a feeling of 
 pain or pleasure. But the isolation of pleasure-pain 
 as an end is the product of later experience, which is 
 itself the outcome of a reality activity. But what 
 Freud apparently understands by these terms, is that 
 each tendency is concerned with its own satisfaction 
 and is indifferent to the gratification of others (pleasure- 
 pain principle) but it is necessary for the good of the 
 whole that these tendencies should be co-ordinated and 
 regulated to this end (reality principle). " The function 
 of the latter," says Jones, "is to adapt the organism to 
 the exigencies of reality, to subordinate the imperious 
 demand for immediate gratification, and to replace this 
 by a more distant but a more permanently satisfactory 
 one. It is thus influenced by social, ethical, and other 
 external considerations that are ignored by the earlier 
 principle. It can, however, only guide and control 
 the pleasure principle, adapting this to the environment ; 
 it can never abrogate its activity." 1 On this statement 
 interpreted in conjunction with the above exposition 
 we have no adverse criticism to pass. Reality then 
 includes both tendency and environment. Every 
 conflict is the outcome of the clash of these two principles 
 — the attempted gratification of one interest or set of 
 interests at the expense of the rest, the turning away 
 from reality in the quest for pleasure or the avoidance 
 of pain. 
 
 Another distinction of great importance which Freud 
 makes, which depends on the satisfaction or non-satisfac- 
 tion of tendency is that between primary and secondary 
 1 Jones, op. cit., p. 3. 
 
72 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 
 
 process. Jones has brought out this distinction very 
 clearly. " The infant finds by experience that satis- 
 faction 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 probable that at first this may 
 occur by regression of mental processes so that a hallu- 
 cinatory perception is produced. Experience, however, 
 soon teaches that this method is inadequate permanently 
 to still the need, and that in their capacity in this 
 respect there is an important difference between per- 
 ceptions 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 process concerned with imaginary gratifica- 
 tion has been designated " primary " and that which is 
 concerned with real gratification has been called 
 " secondary." We doubt whether the terminology is 
 entirely satisfactory, for the reasons stated above, but 
 there can be no doubt as to the importance of the 
 distinction. All too often the " psychic energies " are 
 dissipated through the primary system in day-dreams 
 and fancies when they should be working through the 
 secondary system to procure more effective adaptation 
 to the environment. When this tendency is carried 
 too far there ensues one of those many forms of mental 
 illnesses which are roughly distinguished in popular 
 thought as " nervous breakdown " or " insanity." But 
 in normal lives we can frequently find signs of this 
 experience in worry, traces of hysteria, mild forms of 
 compulsion and obsession. " Neuroses constitute, per- 
 
NATURE OF THE UNCONSCIOUS 73 
 
 haps, the most widely spread form of disease. Persons 
 quite unaffected in this way certainly comprise the 
 minority of the general population. The high-frequency 
 incidence of the neuroses is commonly under-estimated 
 through a number of considerations being incorrectly 
 appreciated. A large proportion of cases never reach 
 medical inspection at all. Many patients with obses- 
 sions for instance, do not regard their position as being 
 strictly pathological and amenable to medical treatment, 
 but struggle along as best they can, attributing their 
 troubles to personal peculiarities. Others are too 
 ashamed of the ridiculousness or of the unpleasant 
 content of their obsessions to bring themselves to seek 
 advice. Similar remarks apply to the numerous cases 
 of sexual perversion and inversion (the latter condition 
 alone is said to be present in two per cent of the popula- 
 tion), of anaesthesia and impotency, and of criminality 
 of a neurotic origin. Then should be borne in mind the 
 tremendous frequency of drug habits and excessive 
 drinking, the neurotic basis of which is now known. 
 There is further the large number of people suffering 
 from what may be called social maladjustment, consist- 
 ing in inadaptability, inefficiency, incapacity to meet 
 situations, abnormally intense fear of death or of poverty, 
 hopelessness or even despair and so on ; it is now known 
 that factors similar to those present in the neuroses are 
 also in action in these cases. The appalling roll of 
 yearly suicides — the least frequent outcome of such 
 states of mind — should alone warn us against estimating 
 too lightly these more social forms of neurosis." 1 We 
 have taken the liberty of quoting at length these words 
 of Dr. Ernest Jones in the hope that they may reach a 
 different circle from that to which they were primarily 
 addressed. We have quoted them for three reasons : 
 In the first place, to show the extent and variety of the 
 effects of the breakdown of the reality-principle, in the 
 
 1 Jones, " Treatment of the Neuroses." Bailliere, Tindall and 
 Cox, 1920. 
 
74 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 
 
 second, to strike a blow at the tendency to regard such 
 cases as shirkers, slackers, or even criminals, or on the 
 other hand to regard them with a helpless and demoraliz- 
 ing pity ; and finally, to encourage such sufferers to 
 seek relief along sound scientific lines of insight into the 
 mental mechanisms which underlie their troubles. In 
 the more severe and long-standing cases competent 
 advice should be sought, but in those milder forms 
 from which few of us are free, patient and courage- 
 ous effort to understand the hidden mind processes 
 will result in a more effective adaptation to the demands 
 of life. 
 
 5. CONFLICT OF TENDENCIES 
 
 From the foregoing it will be realized how important 
 it is that we should discover, if possible, the factors 
 that are at work in bringing about the failure of adapta- 
 tion. These are to be found, according to psycho- 
 analysis, in the conflicts, and especially the hidden 
 conflicts of the mind. Hitherto we have spoken of 
 tendencies very largely as if they operated in entire 
 independence of one another, and it is true that each 
 tendency is concerned only with its own satisfaction. 
 But in its quest for an object a given tendency may 
 light on one which, at the same time stimulates another 
 tendency, possibly an opposing one. For instance, 
 curiosity and repulsion may both be stimulated by 
 one and the same thing. What is the result ? One of 
 the interests may apparently triumph, and the other be 
 defeated. But the issue is not the same as if the defeated 
 impulse had never been aroused. The object becomes 
 all the more repulsive because of the repressed fascina- 
 tion, or all the more compelling because of the latent 
 activity of the apparently defeated disgust. The 
 result is, that there is a more or less permanent " fixa- 
 
NATURE OF THE UNCONSCIOUS 75 
 
 tion " of interest on the object. This is what is known 
 as a complex, a term which figures very prominently in 
 psycho-analytical literature. A complex is the fixation 
 of interest on some object through the operation of a 
 counter interest. Such fixation, because of its painful 
 character, is usually more or less repressed and, indeed, 
 may be so completely repressed as to be inaccessible to 
 ordinary processes of self-conscious introspection. But 
 the issues of the conflict may not be nearly so simple as 
 this. The relative strengths of the opposing interests may 
 be so nearly matched that the outcome is a compromise or 
 compromise formation as it is usually called. Symbols, 
 interpreted in the narrower sense indicated above, are 
 instances of this phenomenon. So also are the symptoms 
 of the neurotic. If we take the two tendencies just 
 mentioned, the mind may turn away from the object in 
 sheer disgust, but the curiosity compels it to find some 
 other object resembling the original one in some respect, 
 but without the strongly repulsive features. A miser's 
 interest in gold is a commonly cited example of such a 
 compromise formation. The sovereign of pre-war 
 days inspired in most people a feeling which the pound 
 note of to-day is quite incapable of awakening. Its 
 value in the world market was only a rationalization, 
 for that value was not a matter of vital concern to the 
 average individual in those days. Healey in " Mis- 
 conduct and Mental Conflicts," gives a number of cases 
 of kleptomania in children, which a mental analysis 
 revealed to be simply a compromise formation, of 
 which the underlying conflict was predominantly 
 sexual. 
 
 On the other hand if a tendency runs counter to that 
 organized system of tendencies known as the " social 
 self " it may be converted into its direct opposite. In 
 this case we have what is called a "reaction formation." 
 A hypersensitiveness to cruelty may be a reaction 
 formation to the tendency towards cruelty. The 
 converted drunkard usually affords us another example 
 
76 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 
 
 of this process, indeed religious conversions are 
 often just an extensive system of such reaction forma- 
 tions. 
 
 These formations, both compromise and reaction may 
 have real social value, but the danger, even in such cases, 
 is that they may exercise a tyrannical and obsessional 
 influence to the detriment of other interests. 
 
 But the most important consequence of conflict is 
 dissociation, whereby interests and groups of interests 
 are repressed and rendered inaccessible to conscious 
 control, with the result that we often do things without 
 knowing the real reason for our action, or we act under 
 a sense of inexorable necessity, or we stand helpless 
 before a task that is well within the compass of our 
 powers, although we may be ignorant of these facts 
 because of the activity of the rationalizing tendency. 
 It is the business of psycho-analysis, by means of free 
 association, to lay bare the hidden roots of these psychical 
 growths that the tree of life may be freed from their 
 parasitic depredations. 
 
 And now before we come to the consideration of the 
 nature of the tendencies which are involved in these 
 conflicts, let us briefly consider a question which may 
 possibly have arisen in the mind of the reader, especially 
 if he is acquainted with ordinary psycho-analytical 
 literature. Much has been said about tendencies, 
 impulses and interests, but very little about affects, 
 feelings and emotions. In answer to this we would say 
 first of all, that these terms are frequently used in a 
 way that the ordinary psychologist cannot approve. 
 And in the second place, that while we recognize that 
 the conative aspect cannot be isolated from the affective, 
 yet we regard the latter rather as giving colour and 
 warmth to life, while it is in the former that we find the 
 dynamic of its movement. It is the function of the 
 artist to reproduce the colour and warmth as well as 
 the movement ; it is the chief business of the scientist 
 to explain the movement. The essential thing is the 
 
NATURE OF THE UNCONSCIOUS 77 
 
 tendency. In emphasizing this, while we have departed 
 somewhat from the lines of orthodox exposition, we have 
 been true, we believe, to the guiding ideas which Freud 
 has stressed in the reality principle, and emphasized 
 still more strongly in the claim that the therapeutic 
 aim of psycho-analysis is the "overcoming of resist- 
 ance." 
 
 6. INSTINCTIVE TENDENCIES 
 
 We have seen that all behaviour is determined by 
 tendencies, and that the tendencies of mature life are 
 simply modifications of those that belong to earlier days. 
 In spite of apparent exceptions we must work on this 
 principle if we are ever to achieve understanding of the 
 problem of human behaviour. Tendencies are not 
 suddenly thrust upon us from the outside. The question 
 then, we must consider, is, What are the tendencies with 
 which we are born ? What are those innate psycho- 
 physical dispositions which determine the direction of 
 attention and the response of the organism ? These are 
 the instincts as defined by McDougall. The question 
 resolves itself then into an enquiry into the nature of 
 the instinct tendencies. 1 
 
 Freud has classified these as belonging to two main 
 groups — Ego and Sex Tendencies. Some thinkers 
 prefer a threefold classification, distinguishing a third 
 group under the name of Herd Instincts. The bio- 
 logical function of these groups of impulses is to be 
 found in the preservation of the individual, of the race, 
 
 1 It is only possible to consider this most important question 
 in a very brief fashion. The reader who is concerned to give the 
 matter fuller consideration may be advised to read McDougall's 
 " Introduction to Social Psychology," Drever's " Instinct in 
 Man," River's " Instinct and the Unconscious," Tansley's " New 
 Psychology and Life," and Trotter's " Herd Instinct in Peace 
 and War." 
 
78 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 
 
 and of society respectively. From this point of view 
 we are inclined to recognize the separation of the herd 
 instincts as desirable, and with Trotter to regard these 
 as a most important source of repressing activity. 
 With this writer we are inclined to agree further that 
 while psycho-analysts have given a great deal of atten- 
 tion to the repressed tendencies, not sufficient considera- 
 tion has been given to the nature of the repressing 
 dynamic. It is true that these are usually more acces- 
 sible in the nature of the case, since they are not 
 repressed, to introspection. But the repression may 
 take place upon what we may call the instinctive level 
 of consciousness, and its true nature thus escape our 
 observation. The practical importance of this may be 
 seen in such a case as that already cited of one of Jung's 
 patients (p. 54). 
 
 But while we recognize the value of such a classifica- 
 tion we are convinced that a simple enumeration of the 
 instincts such as that given by Dr. McDougall and the 
 rather fuller one given by Dr. Drever is preferable. An 
 examination of Tansley's attempt to bring these into the 
 categories of the threefold classification confirms this 
 preference. 1 McDougall's list of the instinct tendencies 
 is as follows : Flight, Pugnacity, Repulsion, Curiosity, 
 Self-assertion, Self-abasement, Parental Instinct, Repro- 
 duction (sex), Feeding, Gregariousness, Acquisition, 
 Construction. " Taking the list, then, without criticism, 
 and at its face value, we find that the instincts of self- 
 assertion and self-abasement form the basis of the 
 ego-complex, and the instinct of gregariousness that of 
 the herd complex, while the instinct of reproduction 
 and parental instinct lie at the root of the sex complex. 
 Of the remaining seven " simple instincts " all are con- 
 cerned in the first place with man's relation to his 
 material environment, and at the same time are so 
 intimately connected with the ego that they may almost 
 
 1 See " New Psychology," Chap. XVII. The Primitive 
 
 Instincts. 
 
NATURE OF THE UNCONSCIOUS 79 
 
 be said to form part of the structure of the ego-complex/' 1 
 He remarks further that these instincts " constantly 
 interact and modify one another." But we would 
 point out that many, if not all, of the instincts which 
 he regards as forming the " ego-complex," are so 
 frequently employed in the service of the sex and herd 
 complexes that the classification loses much of its value. 
 Take for instance, curiosity. This tendency is so 
 frequently sexually determined that Freud apparently 
 regards it as primarily and fundamentally sexual, and 
 that its non-sexual manifestations are sublimations of, 
 or reactions from, its original nature. And this is true 
 to a greater or less extent of practically all the other 
 instincts of the ego-complex, even of the two which are 
 regarded as its main determinants — the self-assertion 
 and self-abasement tendencies. McDougall himself has 
 argued that what Freud calls Sadism and Masochism are 
 self-assertion and self-abasement sexually conditioned. 2 
 The critical question is, Are these tendencies primarily 
 directed towards ends that can rightly be considered as 
 sexual or to ends that are truly non-sexual ? A similar 
 problem arises, though perhaps not to the same extent, 
 in connexion with the herd instinct. For this reason we 
 prefer to follow the method of McDougall rather than 
 to adopt either of the more general classifications. The 
 only satisfactory method of settling the issue between 
 Freud and his opponents is to begin with definitely 
 recognized tendencies and carefully trace their history 
 and manifestations both in normal and abnormal minds. 
 But a preliminary difficulty lies in the way — the con- 
 notation of the term sexual. As is well known Freud 
 uses this term to cover phenomena which were previously 
 considered as non-sexual. 
 
 1 Op. cit., p. 181. Tansley uses the term " complex " in a wider 
 sense than the one in which we have used it. For him, it is " a 
 system of associated mental elements, the stimulation of any one 
 of which tends to call the rest into consciousness through the 
 medium of their common effect." 
 
 2 See " Social Psychology," p. 396, Footnote. 
 
80 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 
 
 We have now reached the storm centre of psycho- 
 analysis — the role of sex in human behaviour. There 
 is an increasing recognition of the mental mechanisms 
 that we have endeavoured to describe in the previous 
 chapter, but Freud's conception of sex and the part it 
 plays in the determination of behaviour has proved a 
 " rock of offence " to great numbers. To describe 
 anything as sexual is for many minds synonymous with 
 calling it " unclean " or " base." Probably this 
 difficulty will never be utterly overcome because of the 
 close physiological association of the sexual organs with 
 those of excretion. The demand of scientific enquiry 
 for an impartial and detached attitude finds here its 
 most difficult problem. It must contend with two 
 opposing impulses, the one of a morbid curiosity which 
 battens on the unpleasant, and the other of a loathing 
 revulsion. The way in which Freud's theories have 
 been received constitutes one of the most powerful 
 pieces of evidence as to their substantial truth. It 
 has also been urged against his theories that they are 
 based upon a one-sided examination of abnormal cases. 
 But in other departments of the biological sciences the 
 value of pathological study is universally recognized. 
 While we do not wish to give the impression that we 
 regard this question as finally settled, still less that we 
 regard the sexual as playing a principal part in every 
 mental conflict, we are bound to admit that the evidence 
 seems to us overwhelming as to the importance of this 
 tendency, and we are prepared to find, because of its 
 biological importance, because of ordinary observation 
 of ordinary life, and finally and chiefly, because of the 
 very constitution of the mind, that it is a factor of 
 greater or less significance in every mental reaction. 
 There is no need to emphasize the biological value. 
 The whole race owes its existence to this impulse. It 
 would be natural therefore, to expect a correlative 
 psychological importance. With regard to the last 
 point, we need only say that the conception of psychical 
 
NATURE OF THE UNCONSCIOUS 81 
 
 activity which we have endeavoured to expound in 
 these pages necessarily involves this result. Every 
 " moment " of consciousness is a synthesis of all the 
 preceding moments in a new integration with the present 
 " situation." There may be dissociation, but the 
 dissociation is never complete. The existence of a 
 repressed complex implies some degree of activity. In 
 other words we react to every situation with the whole 
 self, though possibly not with a perfectly united self, 
 and that self is a sexually conditioned self. The second 
 consideration we have only mentioned, because this 
 book is addressed primarily to the general reader rather 
 than to the purely scientific one. In this connexion 
 it needs only to be pointed out that a man can never 
 entirely forget that he is a man, or a woman that she is 
 a woman. We react to members of the opposite sex 
 in a perceptibly different way from the members of our 
 own. Probably the most detached professor that ever 
 addressed a class cannot regard his male and female 
 students with quite the same feelings, and even if he 
 did it would still be a fact of profound sexual signifi- 
 cance. But there is no need to labour the point. It is 
 obvious. 
 
 But difference of opinion may arise as to the degree 
 of the influence of this factor. The study of " War 
 Neuroses," mental disorders due to the abnormal strain 
 of modern warfare, has led many to the conclusion that 
 sex plays a far less important part in the production of 
 various types of mental disorganization than Freud 
 maintains. Here, at any rate, it is claimed that the 
 factor of outstanding significance is the repression of 
 the " fear-flight " instinct. The instinctive reaction in 
 the presence of danger is to run away or hide. If this 
 tendency is thwarted or repressed, there comes a state 
 of strain which may be so intense as to cause anxiety 
 neurosis, or some form of hysterical anaesthesia or 
 paralysis or convulsive action, or possibly of mental 
 collapse. The therapeutic methods that were based on 
 6 
 
82 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 
 
 this conception by men like Myers, Brown, Rivers, and 
 MacCurdy were attended with such satisfactory results 
 that we are bound to acknowledge that the theory has 
 real worth. In fact there can be no doubt that the 
 continued repression of any strong instinctive tendency 
 must gravely affect the manner of adaptation to reality. 
 But the question arises, Is this repression sufficient to 
 account for the mental disorganization that is to be 
 found in such cases as we are now considering ? We 
 do not presume to be competent to decide when authori- 
 ties differ, but there are one or two considerations that 
 are worth noting even by those of us who are not directly 
 interested in the problems that the war neuroses 
 present. Dr. Rivers has shown that these fall into two 
 classes, anxiety and hysteria, and that the first class 
 consisted mainly of officers while the second included 
 chiefly men of the rank and file. The reason for this 
 he finds chiefly in the nature of the training to which 
 these two sections of the army were submitted, and in 
 the very different degrees of responsibility that devolved 
 upon them. In the case of officers, initiative and enter- 
 prise were stimulated, while in the rank and file submis- 
 sion to authority was the guiding principle. Now the 
 symptoms of the nervous trouble in both cases resemble 
 a regression to an infantile state, a characteristic which 
 has been shown to be a mark of all other neuroses. 
 There is no need to regard this statement as reflecting 
 in a derogatory manner on those who have suffered 
 from this distressing trouble. It is the way we all 
 react to situations that impose too great a tax upon our 
 strength and resources. We have a picture of the 
 hysterical mode of reaction in the child who is ordered 
 by his mother to take a pill. He tries and fails not 
 because the pill is too large, but because he involuntarily 
 inhibits the action of the swallowing muscles. He may 
 make no effort to swallow, asserting that it is impossible. 
 In such a case we have a kind of temporary psychic 
 paralysis. Or on the other hand, to demonstrate the 
 
NATURE OF THE UNCONSCIOUS 83 
 
 reality of his goodwill he may make repeated and 
 strenuous but ineffectual efforts to comply. Analysis 
 of such cases reveals that such actions are really an 
 unconscious attempt to perform some action in the doing 
 of which the individual has previously failed. It is as 
 though he were trying to demonstrate to his superiors 
 (the parent substitute) that he is trying his utmost, but 
 that the thing is utterly beyond his powers. In the 
 case of anxiety we have a different picture. When a 
 child is in difficulty he turns for help and guidance to 
 his parents. If for any reason, for instance, lack of 
 sympathy or fear of revealing his weakness, he is unable 
 to do this, there ensues a state of anxiety. Now as we 
 shall see presently, Freud regards this parent relation- 
 ship as a normal feature of sexual development. If 
 such an interpretation is correct, we see that the repres- 
 sion of the danger instincts is only a match set to the 
 fuel. Keeping to this metaphor we may use it to 
 explain Freud's theory of nervous disorders. Every 
 mental conflagration is due to three factors : the nature 
 of the fuel (congenital endowment), the way it is pre- 
 pared (sexual history) and the kindling flame (current 
 conflict produced by the repression of some impulse, 
 not necessarily sexual). It is obvious that nothing can 
 be done for the patient in respect of his native endow- 
 ment. It may be possible by certain methods to 
 extinguish the fire, but if nothing else is done it is 
 obvious that the fire may soon break out afresh. The 
 only satisfactory way is to arrange the materials that 
 they may not so readily take fire from every flying 
 spark. This means that the history of the individual 
 must be reconstructed. In one sense this is obviously 
 impossible, but in so far as that history stands for a 
 fixation of interest on childish objects it is possible to a 
 very great extent. To the degree that psycho-analysis 
 has been able to achieve this it has fulfilled the old 
 prophecy, — I will restore unto you the years that the 
 locust hath eaten. 
 
84 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 
 
 We must now consider the nature and development of 
 the tendencies which are comprised under the activity 
 of the sex instinct. We shall endeavour as simply and 
 briefly as possible to explain Freud's ideas, not laying 
 them down as final and incontrovertible, but as a body 
 of doctrine for which there is a tremendous, and ever- 
 increasing amount of evidence. Many refuse to accept 
 that evidence because they do not find it confirmed by 
 an examination of those mental processes which are open 
 to ordinary introspection. Such criticism is entirely 
 beside the point, since the evidence referred to is not 
 derived from such an examination of superficial con- 
 sciousness. There are three ways in which Freud may 
 be shown to be wrong, if he is wrong. Either it must 
 be demonstrated that free association is not a reliable 
 method of enquiry, or that the method has been wrongly 
 used, or that the results of its application are wrongly 
 or imperfectly stated by psycho-analysts. With the 
 first objection we have already briefly dealt in the last 
 chapter. With regard to the other two, it remains 
 only to say that those who have given the method a 
 thorough and impartial examination are substantially 
 agreed as to the results, though like Jung they may seek 
 to explain them as symbolic. For ourselves, we believe 
 that the right attitude is the open mind, taking each 
 case on its merits, examining it with scientific detach- 
 ment, bearing in mind the undoubted fact of resistance, 
 and that the overcoming of one resistance complex does 
 not preclude the possibility of further and even deeper 
 resistances. Further it must be borne in mind that 
 resistance is not a monopoly of the patient, the analyst 
 himself has his own complexes and it is, therefore, 
 regarded as desirable that he should himself submit to 
 analytical examination. 
 
 The main difficulty of Freud's theory is that, as far 
 as we have been able to discover, he nowhere lays down 
 any clear criterion of sexual activity. He does not, of 
 course, restrict it to the mere function of reproduction, 
 
NATURE OF THE UNCONSCIOUS 85 
 
 or even to an interest in the organs that are directly 
 involved in such activity. Both its object and its aim 
 are subject to considerable variation. In this respect 
 he has certainly not departed from the common usage 
 of the word. Everybody recognizes the lover's caress, 
 or the treasuring of a handkerchief or a lock of hair, as 
 due to the activity of sexual interest. But Freud 
 traces this interest at work in phenomena where it has 
 not generally been recognized, especially in its infantile 
 forms. 
 
 The first stage of this interest is called the auto- 
 erotic. The new-born child is concerned almost entirely 
 with its own bodily feelings, hunger, warmth, internal 
 discomforts of various kinds. At first these are but 
 vaguely differentiated, if differentiated at all. The 
 external world scarcely exists as far as it is concerned. 
 But gradually the interests are more clearly defined. 
 It obviously obtains satisfaction by sucking its nourish- 
 ment, and a sense of pleasurable relief through the 
 processes of excretion, and another source of gratifica- 
 tion, which we must distinguish from the first, in sucking 
 its fist or some other part of its body. In these two 
 latter tendencies Freud finds the origin of sexual 
 interests. Later these interests are more or less success- 
 fully drained off into other channels, that is, they are 
 sublimated. But the point for us to keep in mind is, 
 that the object of earliest sex interest is the self. 
 
 The second stage is reached when the interest is turned 
 to external objects. And the objects of most profound 
 emotional significance to the child are soon discovered 
 to be the mother and father, and especially the former. 
 This relation, even for the young child, is exceedingly 
 complex. No doubt the part the parents play in the 
 provision of nourishment is an important factor, but 
 probably far more important is the emotional atmos- 
 phere with which they surround the child, and to deny 
 that these emotions are very largely sex-determined is 
 to deny that there is any essential psychical differences 
 
86 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 
 
 between motherhood and fatherhood. And very early 
 the child reveals a different mode of response to these 
 parental variations. It is a matter of common observa- 
 tion that generally speaking there is a marked preference 
 on the part of boys for the mother and, on the part of 
 the girls, though perhaps not to the same extent, for 
 the father. This difference of response is very much 
 obscured by the complexity of the factors of the relation- 
 ship. But psycho-analysis claims that it is a natural 
 and extremely important stage in the development of 
 sex interest. In the case of the boy, the mother is the 
 object of a tender regard which is not extended to the 
 father, while the latter is regarded with feelings of 
 hostility and jealousy. Later on these feelings are 
 repressed or sublimated and therefore forgotten. When 
 they are repressed they form what is called the (Edipus 
 complex, from the Greek legend according to which 
 (Edipus, by a cruel fate, becomes the unwitting destroyer 
 of his father and marries his mother. This complex, 
 it is claimed, is one of the most important factors in the 
 production of the neuroses. It is easy to see how such 
 tendencies may be over-stimulated by sentimental 
 indulgence on the part of the mother and stern repression 
 on the part of the father. The emancipation from the 
 parent relationship is rarely complete. Again and 
 again the mode of a man's response to his environment 
 is determined to a very large extent by this factor. 
 For instance he identifies himself with his father, and 
 acts as his father would in such a situation, or he 
 identifies some third person with his father, and reacts 
 to him as though he were his father, or again when 
 things go wrong he may turn to some one for comfort 
 and help as he turned to his mother in his childhood 
 days. As an illustration of the part that the relation 
 to parents plays in the production of nervous disorders 
 we will quote a particularly interesting case which is 
 given by Dr. Ernest Jones. 
 
 It was the case of "an unmarried American lady of 
 
NATURE OF THE UNCONSCIOUS 87 
 
 twenty-six. She was the eldest daughter and had 
 always been passionately devoted to her mother, 
 regularly taking her side in parental quarrels. Since the 
 age of fourteen she had been obsessed by the fear that 
 her mother, who for many years had suffered from 
 chronic heart disease, might die. She had never left 
 home until, at the age of twenty, she went to an educa- 
 tional centre some two hundred miles away. Here she 
 reproached herself for having left her mother, whom 
 she had always tended. 
 
 " One evening, shortly after receiving a rather bad 
 report of her mother's health, there was a college debate, 
 and the side she defended had to wear as a sign of their 
 partisanship a small red cloth shield. That night she 
 dreamed that she saw her mother's bedroom very dis- 
 tinctly. It resembled the actual room in every detail, 
 except that on the wall opposite the bed was pinned a 
 red shield, and that her mother was lying dead. She 
 woke in horror, and on the next day she travelled home 
 by the first train. Here she found her mother ill in 
 bed, but apparently in no greater danger than usual. 
 Her first act, and surely an extraordinary one, was to 
 pin on to the wall opposite the bed the little red shield. 
 She rationalized this action as being intended to give 
 her mother the opportunity of looking at an interesting 
 memento. She slept with her mother, and on the 
 second morning she woke to find her dead beside her. 
 The shock of this she had never got over ; she tortured 
 herself with remorse that in some mysterious way she 
 was responsible for her mother's death, she felt herself 
 always haunted by her spirit, and was totally unable to 
 undertake any occupation whatever, even five years 
 after. She suffered from a phobia of red, and had never 
 been able to revisit her home." 
 
 The analysis revealed that "at a very early age the 
 patient had been greatly in love with her father, and 
 had indulged in fantasies in which she saw herself sup- 
 planting her mother in various circumstances. About 
 
88 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 
 
 this time, a disliked aunt, who lived with them, died, 
 and the idea occurred to the patient that if a similar 
 calamity were to happen to her invalid mother the loss 
 would have its compensations in other directions. The 
 wish here implied was strongly repressed, but lived on 
 in the unconscious, where its activity was manifest 
 only in the reaction formation of the patient's 
 excessive devotion to her mother and steadily in- 
 creasing indifference, or rather antipathy, towards 
 her father ; a pronounced homosexual tendency aided 
 this process." 1 
 
 This case provides us with an example of the way the 
 parent relation works, and at the same time illustrates 
 other mechanisms which we have discussed in the 
 earlier sections of this chapter. 
 
 The third stage in the development of sex interests is 
 that in which it is directed mainly to members of the 
 same sex. Ordinary observation reveals that at a rather 
 vaguely defined point in the history of the child, with the 
 opening up of the wider world outside of the family, 
 there is manifested a special interest in the members of 
 the child's own sex, with an aloofness from the opposite 
 sex and a marked tendency to under-rate its worth. 
 There arises a certain amount of spontaneous sex 
 segregation, when boys find their playmates among 
 boys, and girls amongst girls. This stage, while 
 probably not of such profound importance as the 
 previous one, if not outgrown, has a great effect on 
 subsequent development, and if not sublimated, leads 
 to serious mental conflicts, and possibly to gross 
 perversions. 
 
 The fourth stage is that of puberty, which is marked 
 by important physical changes, and generally by a 
 period of great mental stress, in which the previous 
 development plays a tremendous part. In the normal 
 case, this experience results in an emancipation from 
 family bonds and the direction of interest towards 
 1 Ernest Jones, " Papers on Psycho-Analysis," p. 225. 
 
NATURE OF THE UNCONSCIOUS 89 
 
 members of the opposite sex, and finally in the choice 
 of a marriage partner. 
 
 All the way along, these stages are conditioned, and 
 probably primarily determined by, an interest in the 
 bodily organs, in certain physiological activities, and 
 especially in the great mystery of human origins. This 
 development is obscured by repression, and by sub- 
 limation in which the energies are absorbed in non-sexual 
 activities. 
 
 Side by side with this development of the object of 
 the sexual interest, there is a development of a sexual 
 aim. In the early stages this is relatively vague and 
 diffuse, and apparently far removed from its ultimate 
 goal of the procreative act. Sucking, touching, and 
 seeing certain parts of the body are the main forms of 
 activity. At first the sexual organs have no pre- 
 dominant attraction. 
 
 There are two pairs of correlative tendencies which 
 must be specially noticed, the desire to see and to be 
 seen, and the desire to inflict pain and to suffer pain. 
 To these tendencies have been given the names, Observa- 
 tionism, Exhibitionism, Sadism, and Masochism re- 
 spectively. Here again, in the normal case, these 
 phenomena are obscured by the same agencies of 
 repression and sublimation. It is an obvious fact that 
 the very young child has no sense of shame, that he has a 
 positive delight in nakedness, a tendency which most 
 adult people regard as rather delightful than otherwise, 
 if it is outgrown at the right stage. The curiosity that 
 underlies observationism is not so generally approved, 
 and possibly for that very reason not so generally 
 recognized. Still less are the cruelty and suffering 
 impulses approved, and probably most readers will 
 find some difficulty in admitting that they are part of 
 our natural and original endowment. Memories of 
 the recent war, however, should be sufficient to show 
 that we have not altogether outgrown these tendencies. 
 Nor should we be right in regarding our late enemies as 
 
90 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 
 
 possessing a monopoly of this pleasure in inflicting pain. 
 Doubtless the militaristic spirit had fostered it to a 
 greater degree among them, but we may be sure that 
 war cannot be waged without a release of the sadistic 
 impulses. The war again affords us an insight into 
 the close connexion of this tendency with the sex 
 impulse as it is more strictly interpreted. Rape and 
 rapine are twins. The soldier is ever ready to turn lover 
 as the increase in the marriage rate during the war 
 years bears witness, to say nothing of the other facts 
 which most people seem only too anxious to ignore. 
 But there is another side to war. There is suffering as 
 well as fighting, and we may be sure that if men and 
 women could find no satisfaction in suffering, the recent 
 war would have come to an end long before it did, for 
 it was above all a war of endurance. It scarcely needs 
 to be pointed out that as a rule, the masochistic tendency 
 is stronger in women than in men, while the reverse is 
 true of the sadistic impulse. Still, both exist in differing 
 proportions in both sexes. Further, it requires little 
 insight to realize that these interests, sublimated by 
 the inspiration of a noble cause, provide the dynamic 
 of those characters and careers which have aroused the 
 world's highest and most desirable admiration. 
 
 Such in briefest outline are the main principles of 
 Freud's theory of sex. If we compare these impulses 
 with the instincts enumerated by McDougall we shall 
 see that there is a close connexion. There are obviously 
 close affinities between Freud's conception of observa- 
 tionism, exhibitionism, sadism, and masochism, and 
 McDougall's conception of curiosity, self-assertion or 
 self-display, pugnacity and self-abasement respectively. 
 The difference between the two is apparently that 
 Freud regards these impulses as primarily and funda- 
 mentally sexual, only becoming partially de-sexualized 
 in the course of the history of the individual. McDougall, 
 on the other hand, regards them as primarily non-sexual, 
 but as capable of being sexually determined. For 
 
NATURE OF THE UNCONSCIOUS 91 
 
 ourselves, we are inclined to think that the truth lies 
 somewhere between the two. In the newly born child 
 there is no clear distinction between the ego tendencies 
 and the sex tendencies, as Freud calls them. It is only 
 in the course of its history that these become increasingly 
 more clearly defined. But that the strictly called sex 
 interest does emerge even in normal cases much earlier 
 than McDougall seems prepared to admit, appears to 
 us undeniable from such evidence as is available. But 
 as to the question of the extent to which these tendencies, 
 for instance, curiosity, are sexually determined, we do 
 not feel at all competent to say, but at the same time 
 we are bound to admit, that the evidence points very 
 forcibly to the idea that they derive a great part, if not 
 all their dynamic from that interest, and that they are 
 so closely intertwined with it, that in the absence of wise 
 education they are very liable to be subordinated to it. 
 We must now consider the role that Freud assigns 
 to the sexual instinct in the production of mental 
 disorders. The important factor to remember in this 
 connexion is, that the development of the interest in 
 respect of its object, and the sublimation of its aim, 
 rarely proceed with perfect smoothness and complete- 
 ness. This development may be attended with varying 
 degrees of failure. This failure may not become clearly 
 apparent till the demands of adult life reveal the defect. 
 The development has been arrested or partially arrested, 
 and the interest more or less fixed on one or other of 
 the relatively primitive objects, the self, the parents, 
 or the same sex, with the result that the normal objects 
 of adult life are unable to arouse sufficient interest or 
 energy, or they provoke a conflict which involves varying 
 degrees of mental disorganization. Freud does not 
 regard the conflict of non-sexual impulses as capable of 
 producing a neurosis. All they can do is to bring about 
 a regression to a primitive fixation, and it is this fixation 
 which is the specific cause. The late Dr. J. J. Putnam, 
 a man equally respected for his profound learning and 
 
92 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 
 
 high character, has said, Freud, " has worked out, with 
 incredible penetration, the part which this instinct 
 (sex) plays in every phase of human life, and in the 
 development of human character, and has been able 
 to establish on a firm footing the remarkable thesis that 
 psycho-neurotic illnesses never occur with a perfectly 
 normal sexual life. Other sorts of emotions contribute 
 to the result, but some abnormality of the sexual life 
 is always present, as the cause of especially insistent 
 emotions and repressions." Even Jung, who endeavours 
 to explain the neurosis by means of the two factors of 
 congenital disposition and current conflict, and suggests 
 that the psycho-analytical theory should be liberated 
 from the purely sexual standpoint, says later on in the 
 same book — " I am often asked why it is just the erotic 
 conflict, rather than any other, which is the cause of 
 the neurosis. There is but one answer to this. No one 
 asserts that this ought necessarily to be the case, but 
 as a simple matter of fact, it is always found to be so, 
 notwithstanding all the cousins and aunts, godparents 
 and teachers, who rage against it." 
 
 We have seen that psycho-analysts attach great 
 importance to the activity of the CEdipus complex, 
 which brings about in the adult a regression to the 
 childish attitude to the parents. Recent developments 
 of the work have emphasized the importance of an even 
 more primitive regression, to the self-love stage. To 
 this regression is given the name of Narcissism. In this 
 case the interest is withdrawn from external objects 
 and fixed upon the self as it is, as it was, or as it would 
 like to be, or a part of the self (e.g. its child). It is easy 
 to see how such a conception may be used to explain 
 such phenomena as conceitedness, wounded pride, a 
 self-centred and visionary idealism, or an extravagant 
 infatuation with one's offspring. Possibly psychology 
 itself may be regarded as the product of sublimated 
 narcissism. This may account for the contempt and 
 even suspicion with which it is regarded by the 
 
NATURE OF THE UNCONSCIOUS 93 
 
 " practical man." This factor, it is claimed, is of very 
 great importance in bringing about those serious forms 
 of mental illness known as melancholia and dementia 
 praecox, and constitutes a serious obstacle to remedial 
 efforts by making transference, which we shall shortly 
 see is a necessary stage in the treatment, very difficult 
 if not quite impossible. 
 
 In the foregoing account we have avoided the use of 
 a term which figures largely in psycho-analytical 
 literature. It is the term Libido. Freud uses this term 
 to stand for sexual desire in all its forms. Jung uses 
 it in a wider sense as equivalent to Bergson's " life 
 force." We have avoided the use of the term altogether, 
 for the simple reason that we do not see the necessity 
 for it, and because it is frequently used in what we 
 regard as an unpsychological manner. 
 
 When we turn to the non-sexual instincts we find 
 a regrettable blank in psycho-analytical theory. If 
 we grant that it is the sexual tendencies which are the 
 object of most of the repression that goes on in the 
 human mind, we have still to enquire what is the nature 
 of the repressing forces. Trotter in his " Herd Instincts 
 in Peace and War," has especially drawn attention to 
 this omission, and his treatment of the subject, though 
 all too brief, is suggestive. Freud recognizes only two 
 classes of instincts, the Egoistic and the Sexual. What 
 he includes in the former is not very clear. But all 
 conflict is due to the clash of elements of these two 
 groups. But there is a sense in which all tendencies 
 may be regarded as ego tendencies. They all work 
 towards some end which, if achieved, normally brings 
 a feeling of pleasurable satisfaction, or at least of 
 pleasurable relief. Maternal love is as ego-centric in 
 its satisfaction as the desire for food. But the satis- 
 faction of the maternal impulse involves the considera- 
 tion of the well-being of another, while the strictly ego 
 tendencies require no such reference. If this external 
 reference is accepted as the distinguishing feature 
 
94 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 
 
 between the altruistic and the egoistic tendencies, we shall 
 see that the sex impulses described above are partly 
 altruistic and partly egoistic, while it is obvious that the 
 herd instincts must always involve this external 
 reference. 
 
 Let us consider very briefly the nature of the herd or 
 gregarious instinct. The outstanding feature is Sug- 
 gestibility in its widest sense, involving all three phases 
 of psychical process, cognitive, affective and conative. 
 Using the term in this manner, Dr. Rivers has defined 
 suggestion as " that aspect of the gregarious instinct 
 whereby the mind of one member of a group of animals 
 or human beings acts upon another or others unwittingly 
 to produce in both or all a common content, or a content 
 so similar that both or all act with complete harmony 
 towards some common end." The fundamental aspect 
 of this unwitting action of mind upon mind is the 
 affective, what McDougall calls sympathy. In the 
 hypnotic state it is usually called rapport. It is an 
 emotional responsiveness or sensitiveness to the feelings 
 of some other mind or minds. Starting from this point 
 Ferenczci and Jones have argued that suggestibility 
 is essentially sexual. A considerable amount of 
 evidence has been adduced to support this contention. 
 There are two recognized types of suggestion, the one 
 working through authority and fear, while the other 
 works through persuasion and " love," and it is claimed 
 that these are determined by the different emotional 
 responses of the child to father and mother respectively. 
 Herd suggestibility may be regarded as a development 
 of this, but if it is, it must be through a process of 
 de-sexualization. The main interests of the herd are 
 food and protection, and it is obviously necessary for 
 individual interests, including the sexual, to be sub- 
 ordinated to these, or the herd would perish. When 
 we come to the human herd the situation becomes more 
 complicated. The sexual impulses are subjected to 
 stringent regulation, and these regulations are not merely 
 
NATURE OF THE UNCONSCIOUS 95 
 
 imposed upon the individual, but by virtue of the latter's 
 suggestibility they are accepted. If the acceptance is 
 complete then the individual interests are directed into 
 socially satisfactory channels, but if the acceptance 
 is incomplete, there arises internal conflict and repres- 
 sion. It is important to remember that external pressure 
 is never sufficient alone to bring about repression ; there 
 must always be some degree of acceptance, whereby 
 the judgment of the community is accepted as right or 
 true, that is, the social judgment is introjected, to use 
 the technical term, and the individual makes it his own. 
 If the opposing tendency persists it is regarded as wrong, 
 and the individual strives to suppress it. This conflict 
 may take place on the personal level of consciousness 
 or on the subpersonal ; in the latter case the individual 
 has no true idea of what is going on, and is therefore 
 unable to deal with it satisfactorily. It is possible, of 
 course, for the suggestion to be rejected. In this event 
 the conflict is external, and gives rise to no repression. 
 
 The situation is still further complicated by the 
 various partial herds to which civilized man belongs, 
 such as the family, the workshop, the trade union, 
 the club, the church, the nation. The suggestions 
 coming from these different sources may give rise to 
 conflict, and the adjustment of these various sugges- 
 tions give rise to the conception of an absolute standard 
 such as God, conscience or reason. 1 
 
 This sketch of the herd instincts is admittedly all too 
 brief and inadequate. Trotter's contention that it is 
 the main source of the repressing activity seems 
 undeniable, and we can only hope that psycho-analysts 
 may give it the same thorough examination that they 
 have devoted to the sexual impulses. It forms the 
 chief part of that wider question of the nature of the 
 reality to which it is the aim of the analyst to reconcile 
 the neurotic. Jones has said that the neuroses are the 
 
 1 It is not intended to imply that such conflicts are themselves 
 entirely adequate to explain these ideas. 
 
96 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 
 
 result of a conflict between the individual and society. 
 The therapeutic aim is to reconcile the two. But to 
 what society is the individual to be reconciled ? Is it 
 to society as it is, permeated we are told by neuroticism ? 
 Obviously this is a tremendous question, but we cannot 
 consider that psycho-analysis rests on a secure founda- 
 tion till it can provide a satisfactory answer to this 
 problem. 
 
 In conclusion, we would say, that, while we do 
 not consider the problem of the primary instinctive 
 tendencies as definitely settled, we believe that the most 
 satisfactory conception is to regard such mechanisms 
 as McDougall enumerates, as being gradually differen- 
 tiated from a relatively homogeneous life impulse, 
 primarily in the interests of the ego, but very early in 
 the interests of sex, and later in the interests of the 
 herd. With the exception of what Dr. Drever calls 
 the appetite tendencies, such as hunger, thirst, and sex 
 in the narrower sense of the term, these instinctive 
 mechanisms are probably all capable of being con- 
 ditioned by these three main interests. But the sex 
 interest is of special significance, not only because of its 
 native strength, but also because through repression, it 
 accumulates still greater stores of energy, and is frequently 
 compelled to find its satisfaction in most devious ways. 
 
CHAPTER V 
 
 THE CONTROL OF THE UNCONSCIOUS 
 
 IN the last chapter we have endeavoured to 
 explain the nature and modes of activity of those 
 mental tendencies and conflicts, which function- 
 ing outside the range and reach of ordinary personal 
 consciousness, have such important consequences for 
 the individual, being the specific cause, it is claimed, 
 of those forms of mental illness, known as the " psycho- 
 neuroses," and of many of those minor disabilities and 
 maladjustments, from which few of us, if any, are 
 entirely free. If this claim is true, it will be obvious 
 that there is little prospect of our being able to control 
 these tendencies, or to end these conflicts by a direct 
 effort of will power. We are fighting against unseen, 
 or disguised foes, and more than this, we are fighting 
 with greatly depleted forces, for our foes are " those of 
 our own household." We cannot emphasize this point 
 too strongly. The symptoms of the neurotic, the 
 tremors, the paralyses, the compulsive actions and many 
 of the pains, are what Freud calls " wish-fulfilments," 
 by which the individual is enabled to escape from the 
 too-exacting demands of life. This is the reason which 
 explains the resemblance of the neurotic to the 
 malingerer with whom he has been so often confused. 
 He is a malingerer, but a malingerer against his will. 
 To treat him asa" slacker," a coward, or a hypocrite, 
 is only to aggravate his troubles, but on the other hand, 
 to treat him with large doses of well-meant compassion 
 is no better. Nor is it sufficient to tell him that his 
 7 97 
 
98 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 
 
 symptoms are but devices of the unconscious to enable 
 him to get out of the " firing line " of life's battle. He 
 probably would not believe it, and if he did, it would 
 only add to his already intolerable burden. Blame, 
 pity, and exhortation are at the best of little use, and in 
 some cases may do serious harm. The first requirement 
 is insight, not only on the part of the physician, but also 
 on the part of the patient. For this reason the co- 
 operation of the latter is far more important than in the 
 treatment of physical ailments. Without it no progress 
 can be made. A keen desire to get well is therefore a 
 great help to the treatment, indeed a practically indis- 
 pensable pre-requisite. Patience, courage and intelli- 
 gence are necessary for successful results. Psycho- 
 analysis is not a pill that has just to be swallowed to 
 cure all manner of diseases, but it is a highly 
 individualistic method which is dependent upon the 
 tracing out of those complicated and often hidden 
 tendencies which are the spring of so many of our 
 activities. It is obvious, therefore, that it will require 
 a very considerable amount of time, but that time is 
 more than redeemed, when the treatment is successful, 
 by the elimination of those conflicts which are the cause 
 of so much wasted energy and ineffective striving. 
 Let us inquire now more closely as to the main lines 
 which this treatment follows. It works by means of 
 free association, through psycho-catharsis and abreac- 
 tion, through transference and the overcoming of 
 resistance to freedom which is its aim. The meaning 
 of these terms we shall now endeavour to make clear. 
 
 I. PSYCHO-CATHARSIS AND ABRE ACTION 
 
 The material on which the analyst works in the 
 patient's dreams, because they provide the easiest and 
 most direct access to the unconscious. But if these are 
 
CONTROL OF THE UNCONSCIOUS 99 
 
 not available he may begin with the patient's symptoms 
 or use Jung's Word Association Method described in 
 Chapter II. This material is interpreted by the aid of 
 free association which we have already described. 
 Here we need only repeat the warnings as to the neces- 
 sity for complete mental and muscular relaxation, for 
 the utter abandonment of every effort to guide or restrain 
 the direction of consciousness, and for complete frank- 
 ness in recording whatever comes into the mind, no 
 matter how trivial, irrelevant, or unseemly it may 
 appear. Hypnosis is sometimes used to aid and abridge 
 the process, or to recall forgotten experiences, but 
 Freud abandoned its use on the ground that instead 
 of lessening the resistances, after a certain stage it 
 increased them. 
 
 It is the aim of free association to bring to light those 
 forgotten experiences or fantasies which are the 
 repressed factor in the mental conflict. To this process 
 is given the name psycho-catharsis . Now the significant 
 fact about these forgotten experiences is not the 
 experiences themselves but the tendencies which they 
 reveal, tendencies of which the patient is either utterly 
 ignorant, or which he has misinterpreted because they 
 have been deflected by compromise or reaction forma- 
 tions. This process of psycho-catharsis is obviously 
 necessary, therefore, if the individual is to exercise 
 control over these hidden impulses, he cannot be 
 expected to control forces of which he is unaware or 
 does not understand. 
 
 But there is another aspect of the question which we 
 must consider. Whenever a tendency is stimulated, 
 an emotional experience peculiar to it is also aroused. 
 If the tendency is denied its satisfaction then the 
 emotion is also checked in its development. If, for 
 instance the instinct to run away from danger is aroused 
 but prevented from finding its natural expression, then 
 the accompanying emotion of fear is also checked, or to 
 use an expressive colloquialism, is " bottled up." 
 
100 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 
 
 When such an experience is recalled, the recall is 
 attended by a revival of the emotion and if this is allowed 
 unfettered expression it is frequently followed by a 
 sense of relief. This process, commonly termed " letting 
 off steam " is perfectly familiar. It is only when the 
 original conflict is so intense as to involve some con- 
 siderable degree of amnesia that it is regarded as 
 pathological. In such a case free association or hyp- 
 nosis is necessary to recall the experience, and the 
 revival of the emotions is known as abreaction. The 
 value of abreaction as a therapeutic method has come 
 to the fore in connexion with the treatment of war 
 shock. Dr. W. Brown, of London University, lays 
 great emphasis on its importance. His opinion deserves 
 to be treated with the greatest respect both on account 
 of the extent and the success of his work at an advanced 
 Neurological Centre in France. He says, " In most 
 cases of nervous shock caused by shell explosion a state 
 of intense fear is aroused in the patient's mind, which, 
 from its very magnitude, produces loss of self-control 
 and apparent loss of consciousness. There is no real 
 loss of consciousness, but the attempted repression, and 
 control of the fearful emotion at its inception brings 
 about a splitting of the mind, which appears later as 
 amnesia of greater or less extent, often involving other 
 losses of function also, such as dumbness, deafness, 
 tremulousness, or paralysis. The fact that under light 
 hypnosis, and with the appropriate suggestions, these 
 memories return, together with the lost voice, hearing, 
 etc., is evidence that they were not abolished at the 
 time, but were simply split off from the main personality. 
 It is also evidence that the shock worked mentally 
 rather than by its accompanying physical concussion 
 (which is often absent). In my method, then, the 
 patient goes through his original terrifying experiences 
 again, his memories recurring with hallucinatory 
 vividness. It is this that brings about the return of 
 his powers of speech, and not direct suggestion, as in the 
 
CONTROL OF THE UNCONSCIOUS 101 
 
 ordinary method. My second modification of the 
 ordinary method is in my manner of awakening the 
 patient. Remembering that his disability is due to a 
 form of dissociation, and that in some cases hypnotism 
 accentuates this dissociation, I always suggest at the 
 end of the hypnotic sleep that he will remember clearly 
 all that has happened to him in this sleep. More than 
 this, I wake him very gradually, talking to him all 
 the time and getting him to answer, passing backwards 
 and forwards from the events of his sleep to the events 
 in the ward, the personalities of the sister, orderly, 
 doctor and patients, i.e. all the time re-associating 
 or re-synthetizing the train of his memories and 
 interests." 1 
 
 It will be seen from this account that Dr. Brown's 
 method involved not only recall of the forgotten 
 experience by the aid of hypnosis, and the working off 
 of pent-up emotion, but also the re-synthesis of the 
 dissociated and therefore forgotten experience. In a 
 symposium which appeared in the Medical Section of 
 the " British Journal of Psychology," in October, 1920, 
 the question of the value of abreaction is introduced 
 by Dr. Brown, but Dr. C. S. Myers, who was Consulting 
 Psychologist to the British Expeditionary Force, after 
 acknowledging the high value of the former's work, 
 takes up the position that it is the recall and especially 
 the re-synthesis that are the important factors and not 
 the abreaction. He supports this contention from his 
 own experience and method in which he discouraged 
 any strong emotional expression. " My own experi- 
 ence," he says, " in recovering memories both in the 
 waking and in the hypnotic states was that the acting 
 out of the emotional experience was of relatively little 
 consequence, but that what was of importance was the 
 revival of the unpleasant memory of the scene. Dr. 
 McDougall in his contribution to the same symposium 
 
 1 W. Brown, " Psychology and Psycho-therapy." 1921, 
 Edward Arnold. 
 
1 02 PSYCHO-ANALYSTS 
 
 criticizes the conception of " pent-up emotion " and 
 regards the re-synthesis as the all-important factor. 
 He points out that war-shock patients not infrequently 
 suffer from fits in which they live through the old 
 experiences with realistic intensity and are no better, 
 but rather worse as a consequence. To these criticisms 
 Dr. Brown replies that he recognizes the importance of 
 re-synthesis but asserts that he found that those cases 
 that were marked by the most vigorous abreaction made 
 most satisfactory progress. It is not easy to form a 
 reliable judgment where authorities of such eminence 
 and experience are at variance, but the discussion points 
 strongly to this conclusion that while abreaction may 
 possibly be helpful, it is not essential, but what all are 
 agreed is essential is the recall and re-synthesis of 
 dissociated experiences. This conception of the 
 therapeutic value of abreaction is confirmed by the 
 most recent developments of psycho-analysis in the 
 treatment of ordinary neuroses. Freud, in his early 
 work with Breuer, as we have seen, regarded emotional 
 revival as an important factor, but in his later work 
 he places the emphasis on transference and the over- 
 coming of resistance. These conceptions we must now 
 examine. 
 
 2. TRANSFERENCE AND OVERCOMING OF RESISTANCE 
 
 The reader will have noticed that in the special 
 modification of psycho-analytical treatment for war- 
 shock cases, hypnosis was extensively used. It is true 
 that it was used by Myers and Brown mainly for the 
 purpose of recalling forgotten experiences and not with 
 the view of effecting a cure by means of suggestion. 
 But it has been maintained that in spite of this the real 
 secret of the therapeutic value of the method lay in 
 unconscious suggestion. Freud very early abandoned 
 
CONTROL OF THE UNCONSCIOUS 103 
 
 hypnotism as being more of a hindrance than a help, 
 but the same explanation of the success of his method 
 has been advanced on the ground that the state of free 
 association is identical with the state of relaxation 
 which is the necessary pre-requisite of effective waking 
 suggestion. Freud explicitly recognizes that these 
 two states are practically identical, but he denies that 
 cures are due to suggestion. In the first place, the 
 analyst plays as far as possible a passive role in the 
 examination. He refrains from offering suggestions 
 by word or sign, and on no account offers advice. But 
 it is replied that in the highly suggestible state of free 
 association, the patient is susceptible to indications of 
 thought and feelings, which in the normal state would 
 pass unnoticed. This is admitted, but it is still con- 
 tended that analysis works not by means of suggestion, 
 but in spite of it. 
 
 We must examine this contention more closely. The 
 first requirement of effective suggestion whether waking 
 or hypnotic, is, as we have said, the production of a 
 certain affective state in the individual, called sug- 
 gestibility. This is brought about by various devices, 
 but the aim of one and all, is to secure a suspension of 
 the activity of the endopsychic censor. This suspen- 
 sion varies in its degrees but it is probably never quite 
 complete, unless it is in the deepest hypnotic trance. 
 This state induces a special and exclusive susceptibility 
 to, and dependence upon, the person making the 
 suggestions. This personal relation is called rapport. 
 It is inspired, on the one hand, either by fear of, or 
 respect for the hypnotist, because of his authority or 
 power, or on the other, by the feeling of trust or affec- 
 tion, because of his kindly interest or gentle manner. 
 In either case there is a marked dependence of the 
 patient on the physician. Psycho-analysts regard this 
 feeling of dependence as an extension of, or rather 
 transference of, the childish feelings with which father 
 or mother were regarded respectively. Now it is obvious 
 
104 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 
 
 that if it is true, that many, if not most, nervous dis- 
 orders are caused by the failure of the effort of self- 
 emancipation from this childish relationship, then by 
 inducing the state of suggestibility and rapport, we are 
 only aggravating the evil we are trying to overcome. 
 To suggest that the patient shall show a more indepen- 
 dent spirit only results in a reaction formation, which is 
 manifested in a self-assertiveness, with marked childish 
 characteristics. This transference occurs no less in 
 psycho-analysis than in suggestion. The patient lives 
 over again his emotional life and the physician becomes 
 the object of his love and hate. 1 But in analysis it is 
 only a stage, though a necessary one, in the course of the 
 treatment. It constitutes at once, both the difficulty 
 and the hope of the physician. On this point Jones 
 quotes the very significant words of Freud. "It is 
 undeniable that in his endeavour to emerge victorious 
 over the transference phenomenon the psycho-analyst 
 is faced with the greatest difficulties, but it should 
 not be forgotten that it is just these difficulties that 
 render us the invaluable service of making the patient's 
 buried and forgotten love-excitations current and 
 manifest, for in the last resort no one can be vanquished 
 in absentia or in effigie." Transference, then, is really a 
 reconstitution of the childish situation which lies at 
 the root of the nervous trouble, but instead of the 
 father, mother, self, or whatever form the original love 
 object assumed, the same interest is now directed on 
 the physician. The value of this is, as Freud points out, 
 that it is an actual situation that has to be dealt with, 
 and not merely an imagined or remembered one. 
 
 But if the patient were left at this stage little good 
 would have been done. It would be like curing the pain 
 in one tooth by transferring the discomfort to another. 
 But by means of the free association the patient is 
 
 1 The difference between abreaction and transference is that 
 the former is a revival of past experiences while the latter is 
 a revival of emotional attitudes towards a new object. 
 
CONTROL OF THE UNCONSCIOUS 105 
 
 brought to see for himself what is the real nature and 
 origin of that interest which is being directed upon the 
 analyst. It is not enough to tell the patient what is 
 the nature of the mental trouble from which he is 
 suffering. He would almost certainly refuse to accept 
 the explanation, and if he accepted it the acceptance 
 would be superficial and of little practical value. The 
 reason for this should be clear from the previous 
 chapter. It is not merely that the neurotic is suffering 
 from wrong ideas. He is suffering because of the clash 
 of active forces, because of the arrestment of the normal 
 development of that complex of interests, called sexual 
 in the broadest sense of the term, an arrestment which 
 is due to the action of some opposing system of interests. 
 The object of desire is repugnant to the social and moral 
 self and it is therefore repressed. The very idea of it 
 is banished. It is therefore only to be expected that the 
 path of enlightenment by means of free association will 
 be obstructed at every turn. This obstruction is called 
 resistance and it is the vanquishing of that resistance 
 which is the ultimate aim of the treatment. To this 
 end the individual must be brought to feel the full force 
 of that resistance. No advice is offered with a view to 
 relieving the tension, but at a suitable moment the 
 patient is shown that his difficulties in association are 
 due to resistance and not due to the mere fading of 
 memory. After this, says Freud, " We must allow the 
 patient time to immerse himself in this resistance (of 
 which he is now conscious), to work through it and over- 
 come it — by carrying on the work according to the 
 psycho-analytical rule in spite of it. Only when they 
 have reached the point of most intense resistance do 
 patient and doctor through their combined work 
 discover the repressed tendencies which are feeding the 
 resistances — tendencies as regards the existence of which 
 the patient would otherwise have failed to be convinced. 
 In this the physician can do nothing but await the 
 completion of the process — a process that cannot be 
 
106 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 
 
 avoided and that cannot always be hurried." The 
 psycho-analytic rule referred to, in this passage, is that 
 which insists on the passive role of the analyst, and the 
 refusal of aid, direction or advice to the patient during 
 the course of his free associations. If this principle is 
 strictly adhered to, then the very recall of the ex- 
 periences, fancies and desires involves the gradual 
 breaking down of the resistances, otherwise the recall 
 would be impossible. What then, is the position at 
 this stage ? Repression has been removed, and the 
 patient realizes that his trouble is due to certain repug- 
 nant tendencies. But those tendencies are still there, 
 and they are still repugnant. But he has one clear 
 gain. He knows now what are the forces he is fighting 
 against. He is no longer righting in the dark against a 
 foe, which the darkness not only veils but magnifies. 
 But this is not all. Since the repression has been 
 removed the fixation of the interest has been relieved, and 
 the energies which have been wasted in internal conflict 
 or forced into unsatisfactory channels, are now free to 
 be directed towards the external problems and diffi- 
 culties of life. The tension has been relieved, and the 
 sexual interests, if not entirely, at any rate to a very 
 considerable extent, are free to be directed to non-sexual 
 ends, that is, they can be sublimated. The task of sub- 
 limation must be tackled by the patient himself. To 
 turn to the analyst for help and advice would only be to 
 relapse into the position of servile dependence from which 
 he has just been emancipated. But he can face the task 
 with confidence because he faces it now with undivided 
 forces. 
 
 One other point we must notice in connexion with 
 this treatment. It has been assumed that because 
 repression is the cause of nervous trouble, that it is the 
 sole task of the analyst to remove that repression and 
 the one concern of the individual to give rein to his 
 natural impulses. This is a gross and unjust caricature 
 of the method and has been repeatedly repudiated by 
 
CONTROL OF THE UNCONSCIOUS 107 
 
 the most eminent authorities. Psycho-analysis affords 
 no sanction for so-called " free living." The individual 
 is freed from his conflicts that he may direct his desires 
 towards a more satisfactory social adaptation. 
 
 3. AUTO- ANALYSIS 
 
 The main purpose of this book is to enable the general 
 reader to obtain such insight into the hidden processes 
 of the mind that he may be able to exercise more 
 effective control over his life. But we would repeat 
 the warning we have already given. Persons suffering 
 from morbid dread, morbid introspectiveness, or any 
 form of hysterical instability should not attempt to cure 
 themselves by self- analysis. Competent medical and 
 psychological advice should be sought in such cases. 
 But there are a vast number of minor disabilities that 
 may be removed, or at least mitigated by self-examina- 
 tion in the light of the principles we have been expound- 
 ing. We have called these disabilities " minor " 
 because they do not entirely incapacitate the sufferer 
 from taking his place and responsibilities in life, but they 
 nevertheless are attended by very painful and crippling 
 effects. As instances of such disabilities, we may 
 mention, lack of independence, or its opposite, unwilling- 
 ness to be advised, undue hesitation and vacillation, 
 thoughtless impetuosity, obstinacy, procrastination, 
 undue sensitiveness to the opinion of others, undue 
 fear, reticence or self-disparagement, compulsions and 
 obsessions of the less severe type, etc., etc. It is not 
 satisfactory to dismiss these things as mere habit, or 
 think we have said the final word when we have ascribed 
 them to heredity. Heredity is probably as often an 
 excuse as it is a cause. With regard to habit its 
 strength is commonly regarded as due to frequent 
 repetition, but a little reflection will show that this 
 is only partially true. For instance, a bank clerk who 
 
108 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 
 
 has worn the same type of collar for twenty years, may 
 not find it a very great difficulty to substitute another 
 style, but he simply dare not go to the office without a 
 collar of some kind. The fact is that it is not merely 
 the frequency of repetition that determines the strength 
 of a habit, but the strength of the tendency which 
 underlies it. In self- analysis, therefore, we must be on 
 our guard against superficial explanations. It is not 
 sufficient to explain our omission to do a certain thing 
 by saying, " We forgot." We must ask " Why did we 
 forget ? " And to this question it is not sufficient to 
 reply that we did not pay enough attention at the 
 time that the engagement was made, or that we were 
 overwhelmed with business when the time for keeping 
 it arrived. We must go deeper still. Why did we not 
 attend ? Why did we manage to remember a dozen 
 other things, of more trifling importance in spite of the 
 demands that were being made upon us ? And the 
 answer is always that we were either not sufficiently 
 interested, or there was something within us that made 
 us want to forget. It is interesting, too, to note how we 
 are inclined to exploit our physical weakness to excuse 
 our mental and moral deficiences. A " splitting head- 
 ache " is a common complaint of the student who is 
 faced with an examination for which he feels himself 
 but ill-prepared. Medical science is only now beginning 
 to realize how varied and extensive is the mental factor 
 in the production of physical ailments. In his " Mental 
 Hygiene," Dr. W. A. White says, " The number and 
 duration of physical and apparently physical disorders 
 which may originate at the psychological level is endless. 
 It includes many forms of asthma, sore throat, difficult 
 nasal breathing, stammering, headache, neurasthenia, 
 backache, tender spine, ' weak heart,' faint attacks, 
 exopthalmic goitre, aphonia, spasmodic sneezing, 
 hiccough, rapid respiration, hay fever, gastro-intestinal 
 disturbances (constipation, diarrhoea, indigestion, colitis, 
 (ulcer of stomach), ptosis of kidney, diabetes, distur- 
 
CONTROL OF THE UNCONSCIOUS 109 
 
 bances of urination (polyuria, incontinence, precipitancy) 
 menstrual disorders, auto-intoxication (from long con- 
 tinued digestive disturbance), nutritional disorders of 
 skin, teeth, and hair, etc., etc." Indeed, we may say, 
 that there is no illness in which the mind does not play 
 some part. We all recognize that the " spirit " of the 
 patient is an important factor in his recovery, but what 
 we do not always realize is that, the patient may 
 sincerely desire to be well, but at the same time may have 
 unconscious tendencies to cling to his illness, perhaps 
 because he enjoys the special attention he gains by it, 
 or because it enables him to evade some difficult demand 
 that life is just at that time making upon him. And 
 what is true with regard to illness, is true with regard to 
 all our life problems. We shall make little progress 
 in analysis if we do not remember that at one and the 
 same moment it is possible for us to face a given problem 
 in two contradictory ways. We may imagine that we 
 are doing our utmost, but all the time secret fears and 
 hidden desires, may be dividing our strength. In fact 
 we may be sure that any task which requires constant 
 renewal of resolution is not receiving our undivided 
 attention. We may tell ourselves that we are doing 
 our best, and we may be perfectly sincere in this self- 
 assurance, but the fact is that we are not doing the 
 best we are capable of. It is not till the task absorbs 
 us by its own compelling interest till everything else is 
 forgotten that it is calling out our real best. It often 
 happens that such an interest is elicited subsequently 
 when by an effort of will we take up an uncongenial 
 piece of work. On the other hand the constant whip- 
 ping up of ourselves frequently makes the business all 
 the more disagreeable. In such a case the only way to 
 succeed is to eliminate the secret fears and the hidden, 
 alien interests that distract and divide. 
 
 But doubtless the reader has long been thinking that 
 all this introspection and analysis tends only to further 
 division and weakness. The horrible fate of Hamlet 
 
110 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 
 
 looms before his eyes as a terrible spectre and warning. 
 We do not claim that introspection has no dangers. 
 Persons of a brooding disposition, or unstable emotions, 
 will be wise to avoid it unless under the guidance of a 
 skilled analyst. In any case, we may expect the 
 immediate result of self-examination will be a lowering 
 of capacity. We may compare a person beginning 
 such a course to a man who having learnt golf unaided 
 and being dissatisfied with his progress turns to an 
 expert for instruction. The immediate effect is an 
 apparent deterioration in his play. The effort to 
 remember how he shall hold his head and his club and 
 what he is to do with his feet, makes him forget to keep 
 his eye on the ball. But if he perseveres in following 
 the instructions the result is usually a vast improvement 
 in his play. In the same way, " the remedy " says 
 Tansley, " for the evils brought upon man by his 
 increased self-consciousness is, then, to increase it still 
 further, but always in the light of objective knowledge. 
 He must try to know himself, not by applying catch- 
 words and cant phrases to the forces at work within — 
 a habit which leads to the confusion of things which 
 are essentially different and the separation of other 
 things which are essentially the same — but by a patient 
 study of the mind as it actually is, and of the conditions 
 under which it works, of the real meaning of his thoughts 
 and conduct." There are two rules which the self- 
 analyst should bear in mind, and if these are obeyed he 
 need not fear the ultimate effects of introspection. 
 The first is — let your introspection be progressive. Do 
 not " stew " continually over your faults and failings, 
 but find their causes. The second rule is — see that 
 thought leads to action. In the early stages there 
 should be no hurry about this, but if it does not 
 eventually lead to a stronger, calmer and more effective 
 attitude to the problems of life, it is because some 
 tendency or group of tendencies has evaded discovery, 
 or the introspection is being used for an excuse for 
 
CONTROL OF THE UNCONSCIOUS 111 
 
 postponing the unpleasant task of facing reality. There 
 is need for watchfulness, for the unconscious is fertile 
 with excuse and evasion. There is a tremendous amount 
 of psycho-analytic truth in the words of the book of 
 Genesis : " Now the serpent was more subtil than any 
 beast of the field which the Lord God had made/' There 
 will be no need for any exposition of this truth if it is 
 remembered that the serpent is perhaps the commonest 
 sexual symbol. 
 
 We do not think it would be wise, even if it were 
 possible, to attempt a thorough-going self-analysis, but 
 we will now attempt to sketch out a scheme which 
 should be possible and helpful to the reader who has 
 really grasped the principles we have been expound- 
 ing. 
 
 First of all examine and interpret carefully and 
 patiently a few of your own dreams. This should serve 
 a double purpose. In the first place it should bring to 
 light certain tendencies which are not obtaining full 
 satisfaction in the waking life, and in the second place 
 it will enable you to understand more fully the ingenious 
 ways in which the unconscious seeks to obtain such 
 satisfaction. If these tendencies are such that you 
 cannot arrange your lives so that they can obtain their 
 real and natural satisfaction, either because of the 
 circumstances in which you are placed, or because they 
 are repugnant to your moral sense, then you must find 
 some other way of dealing with them. Repression is 
 never entirely satisfactory, but we do not say that it is 
 not sometimes necessary and successful, but it can never 
 be better than the less of two evils. It always involves 
 a loss of psychic energy. It is far better, if possible to 
 sublimate these tendencies by directing them towards 
 satisfactory objects. But it must not be imagined that 
 any tendency can be " switched off " from one object 
 to any other. The new object is a substitute for the old 
 one, and must stand in some " felt " relationship to it, 
 though that relationship need not be clearly realized. 
 
112 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 
 
 The problem of sublimation is, therefore, a personal one. 
 It must be solved by the individual concerned. But 
 we may point out that ordinary sexual desire can at 
 any rate be partially sublimated towards the interests 
 of religion, social service, literature, art, science, 
 business enterprises, etc. The essential thing is, that 
 these new interests shall be creative, progressive and 
 absorbing. The second thing, and most important thing 
 to do is, to discover what is the general nature of your 
 attitude towards life. Is it cautious and timid ? Is it 
 rebellious or rash or cynical ? Are you lacking in 
 independence ? Are you too reserved and inclined to 
 " chew the cud " of your own grievances ? What 
 is your attitude to the opposite sex, is it hostile or 
 scornful or painfully bashful ? Do you love the 
 " limelight " ? Are you goaded by curiosity ? Do 
 you take a delight in reading about or seeing brutal 
 displays, or are you unduly sensitive to anything that 
 savours of cruelty, or are you inclined to pose as a martyr, 
 the victim of an unjust fate ? It must be remembered 
 that in asking such questions there is always a strong 
 tendency to justify the attitude by attributing it 
 entirely to the nature of the " facts " of life, and to 
 refuse to admit that it is the way we regard the "facts " 
 that is of supreme importance. Then having decided this 
 question with care, the next thing is to ask, what are 
 the factors that are determining this attitude ? Re- 
 viewing your life patiently and carefully inquire whether 
 there has been any partial fixation of interest on the 
 self, on the parents or on your own sex. Has there 
 been any failure in the effort to sublimate the sex 
 aims enumerated in the last chapter — exhibitionism, 
 curiosity, sadism and masochism ? It is not enough 
 to review the life history in a brief half-hour. You 
 must come back to it again and again, immerse yourself 
 in it and live it over again. Brain racking and puzzling 
 should be avoided. Searching and striving are not 
 of much use. Rather let the pageant of your life come 
 
CONTROL OF THE UNCONSCIOUS 113 
 
 up before you and lead you where it will. But pay 
 special attention to the question of family relationships. 
 Such an examination if patiently and faithfully carried 
 out should reveal the dynamic energies underlying your 
 life's activity and the conflicting tendencies which 
 waste power and render so many efforts futile. 
 
 Another useful, as well as interesting exercise, 
 especially for those who have very scanty dream 
 material to draw from, is to take some habit, some 
 forgotten engagement, or some mistake such as will be 
 described in the next chapter, and subject it to analysis 
 to find the hidden tendency or unconscious wish which 
 underlies it. 
 
 Having thus laid bare the impulses and conflicts of 
 which your life's activity is the outcome, the task 
 remains to formulate some life plan in which they 
 may find harmonious development. 
 
 Such a procedure as we have here outlined obviously 
 departs to some extent from the strict psycho-analytical 
 method, and cannot be expected to yield such striking 
 results as are obtained with the skilled guidance of an 
 experienced analyst. For this reason we believe it is 
 desirable to supplement auto-analysis by auto-sugges- 
 tion. 
 
 4. AUTO-SUGGESTION 
 
 Hypnotic suggestion has been rejected by the 
 orthodox psycho-analyst, as being more of a hindrance 
 than a help in his work. Hypnotism, he asserts, 
 increases the deeper resistances, it does nothing to 
 remove the undesirable state of dependence of the 
 patient on the physician, its therapeutic effects are 
 frequently as ephemeral as they are dramatic, it works 
 in the dark, treating symptoms rather than causes. 
 But the new Nancy School of Auto-suggestion, founded 
 by Coue, whose methods have been expounded so ably 
 
 8 
 
114 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 
 
 by Baudouin 1 , avoids all these objections, save the last. 
 There is no dependence on a second person since the 
 suggestions are made by the patient himself, and since 
 they can be renewed at pleasure, there is no need for 
 the effects to be temporary. It is true, however, that 
 this method works, like its forerunners, in the dark. 
 It leaves the " subconscious " to deal with the causes, of 
 which consciousness may be entirely ignorant. Further, 
 suggestions arising from the self will necessarily be 
 conditioned by the blindness and prejudices of that 
 self. But if the self-examination advised in the last 
 section has been carefully carried out these objections 
 will very largely be obviated. 
 
 It is only possible here to outline the barest essential 
 principles of this method. The reader who is interested 
 is strongly advised to read Baudbuin's book, " Sugges- 
 tion and Auto-suggestion," for himself. It is full of a 
 wealth of illustration and detailed guidance which will 
 prove invaluable to anyone who wishes to take advan- 
 tage of this method. The foundation principle is the 
 law of Reversed Effort. " The harder we try to think 
 the good idea, the more violent will be the assaults of 
 the bad idea." " Voluntary effort essentially pre- 
 supposes the idea of a resistance to be overcome." To 
 put the idea in Coue's own picturesque formula, " When 
 the will and the imagination are at war, the imagination 
 invariably gains the day. In the conflict between the 
 will and the imagination, the force of the imagination is 
 in direct ratio to the square of the will." This mathe- 
 matical formula is, of course, not to be regarded literally. 
 If the analysis prescribed in the last section has been 
 carefully carried out, this conflict will be understood 
 and what is even of greater importance, the factors 
 producing it will be clearly realized, and as a consequence 
 the opposing tendencies will be considerably weakened. 
 For instance, if we recognize that unconsciously we are 
 
 1 " Suggestion and Auto-Suggestion, " Baudouin, 192 1. Allen 
 and Unwin. 
 
CONTROL OF THE UNCONSCIOUS 115 
 
 inclined to magnify the difficulty of a certain task that 
 we m more credit if it is successfully performed, 
 
 or find greatei consolation if we fail, then that very 
 recognition in itself is frequently sufficient to break 
 down the obsta les that arise, in this case, from excessive 
 self-love, But in self-examination the analysis may not 
 be complete and consequently the fixation of interests 
 only partially broken down. It is for this reason that 
 auto-suggestion is recommended to supplement it. 
 
 The problem now before us is, how to eliminate the 
 need for that volitional effort which so frequently only 
 thwarts il 
 
 The iii lo is to give up striving, and allow 
 
 the body mind to attain that state of complete 
 
 relaxation which we have described as the pre-requisite 
 for free association Then just as the mind is beginning 
 to drift away, as it were, into dreamland, then the 
 desired end is allowed to come before the mind as 
 vividly ble, as something that is bound to 
 
 happen, we are bound to do, because we 
 
 cannot h< I] If the state of relaxation has 
 
 been proper b attained the opposing tendencies which 
 have p, ied the fulfilment of these desired 
 
 ends will ice, and opposition removed. If 
 
 the suggi reed by a strong emotion then its 
 
 fulfil m enl i :ssisted. There are really three 
 
 stage we have described. The first is 
 
 the ion which has been sufficiently 
 
 elucidate I is what we have called the state 
 
 of m I fie diverse interests awakened by 
 
 cont -arid begin to fade away, and 
 
 inter; o converge, as it were, of itself, upon 
 
 some realized goal. To this stage 
 
 has t th technical name of "collection." 
 
 The tage is called " contention " when the 
 
 diree Irift is determined by the introduction 
 
 of tl I e ! < I The more vividly this end is imaged 
 
 the ely are the chances of its realization. But 
 
116 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 
 
 all through there must be no sense of striving or strain. 
 Particularly good times for the practice are night and 
 morning, just as you are gradually dropping off to 
 sleep, or gradually returning to full waking conscious- 
 ness. 
 
 Another most interesting discovery that Coue made 
 and verified in the course of his exceedingly extensive 
 experience, was, that there is no necessity to repeat this 
 process time after time in connexion with each separate 
 item in respect of which improvement is desired. But 
 every night and morning without fail, betwixt sleeping 
 and waking, the suggestion should be made, slowly, but 
 as vividly as possible, " Day by day, in all respects, I 
 get better and better." " In all respects," should be 
 emphasised and underlined. Occasionally the details 
 of the desired improvement should be dwelt on, such as, 
 "I am getting stronger, every organ in my body is 
 functioning better and more regularly ; I am facing my 
 life with a more reasonable independence and confidence, 
 my difficulties are diminishing before my increased 
 capacity," etc. 
 
 This method may seem to be too simple to be of any 
 value. But it should be remembered that it has been 
 tried in a vast number of cases, of the most varied and 
 obstinate types, both in functional and organic troubles, 
 with the most effective results. It is true we understand 
 but little of the mechanisms by which these changes 
 are brought about, but research is revealing more and 
 more the effect of mental and especially emotional 
 states on physiological activity. It is at once the 
 difficulty and hope of a movement like this that we do 
 not know the limits of the capacity of mind in its power 
 over the body. But Baudouin says, this method 
 " has secured incontestable results in cases alleged to 
 be incurable, in patients given up by practitioners employ- 
 ing only the conventional methods of treatment." There 
 is, of course, some danger that a person practising the 
 method may be led to delay seeking necessary medical 
 
CONTROL OF THE UNCONSCIOUS 117 
 
 or surgical advice ; but in ordinary methods there is 
 always the risk that one may be poulticing an appendix 
 when a surgeon should be called in to remove it. We 
 are always bound to exercise a certain amount of 
 discretion and judgment. When in doubt, see a doctor, 
 is a safe rule. Auto-suggestion can still be used in 
 co-operation with his treatment. Further, it should be 
 remembered, if through fear we refuse to use the 
 method of deliberate, reflective auto-suggestion, we 
 simply leave ourselves open to the casual and harmful 
 suggestions with which life abounds. Analysis should 
 provide us with a prophylactic against these, and the 
 body and mind thus fortified against harmful influences 
 and germs, should be developed by positive suggestions 
 that are both healthful and good. 
 
 It may possibly appear to the reader that the intro- 
 duction of Suggestion to supplement Analysis is really 
 a confession of the insufficiency of the latter, and that 
 analysis is an unnecessary waste of time and trouble if 
 suggestion is effective. To the first objection the reply 
 is, that if the analysis is thorough, then it requires no 
 assistance from suggestion. But as we have already 
 admitted, it is difficult, if not impossible, for self- 
 analysis to attain this ideal. Then why not abandon 
 auto-analysis and substitute auto-suggestion ? Because 
 the latter, in the mental realm at any rate, is limited 
 largely by the very conditions it seeks to remove. It 
 is an attempt to educate the unconscious up to the level 
 of the conscious. But if the conception of the mind 
 we have tried to expound is at all reliable, then the 
 conscious itself is very largely determined by the 
 unconscious. We seem, therefore, to be in a vicious 
 circle, striving to lift ourselves by tugging at our waist- 
 band. But if we cannot escape from the circle 
 altogether, we can increase the radius and the area 
 of our freedom. Analysis helps us to bring into the 
 light of self-consciousness some of the hidden tendencies, 
 and to see how these are deflecting our ideals and 
 
118 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 
 
 ambitions. In this way it can raise still higher the level 
 of the conscious and thus enlarge the sphere of the 
 operation of suggestion. To put the whole matter 
 in a nutshell — self-analysis tends to yield more insight 
 than power ; self-suggestion yields more power than 
 insight. Let them marry. 
 
CHAPTER VI 
 
 THE PSYCHO-PATHOLOGY OF EVERYDAY LIFE 
 
 ALTHOUGH psycho-analysis can only be 
 /--% considered as being yet in its infancy, it has 
 X -iL already been applied, with the most striking 
 results, not only to the treatment of neurotic illnesses, 
 but also to a wide variety of human problems ; and 
 just as it has been successful in showing that there is 
 a coherence and consistency in the strange creations of 
 the dream, and the mind of the hysterical or even 
 " insane " person, so also it has been applied to discover 
 the hidden meaning of those strange and often fantastic 
 mental creations, the myth, the legend, and the fairy 
 tale. By means of its mechanisms Freud has 
 endeavoured to discover the secret of those strange 
 primitive institutions known as the totem and taboo. 
 He has applied them also to the elucidation of the 
 problems of the psychology of wit. The inspiration of 
 genius, the mentality of the criminal, educational and 
 sociological problems, the nature of religious experience, 
 the common blunders, mistakes and accidents of every- 
 day life, have been surveyed in its light, and to all these 
 problems, it has, to say the least, brought fresh and 
 stimulating insight. It is obviously impossible in the 
 scope of this book, for us to do more than consider very 
 briefly the application of this method to one or two of 
 these questions. 
 
 In his interesting and probably most popular book, 
 the title of which we have assumed as the heading of 
 this chapter, Freud has dealt with the forgetting of 
 
 119 
 
120 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 
 
 names, words and engagements, mistakes in speech, 
 reading and writing, accidents and errors, and has 
 shown with a wealth of examples, that these are not 
 due to mere chance or oversight as we are apt to think, 
 but to definitely ascertainable psychical causes. The 
 unconscious works with a rigorous determinism. Such 
 simple incidents as we are here concerned with, are to 
 be found in abundance in the course of our ordinary 
 experience, and frequently the underlying " wish " lies 
 so near the surface that a very slight analysis is suffi- 
 cient to reveal it. For this reason the study of such 
 cases is particularly helpful for the novice in analytical 
 procedure. But the beginner must keep clearly before 
 him the distinction between conscious purpose and 
 unconscious tendency, and be constantly on his guard 
 against the danger of substituting excuses for psycho- 
 logical explanation. 
 
 We have already given two examples on pages 37 
 and 60. Dr. Ernest Jones, in his treatment of this 
 subject, gives an example very similar to the latter, in 
 which I attempted to diagnose the cause of my little 
 boy's illness. " An instance, which is hard to credit, 
 though I can vouch for the accuracy of it, was related 
 to me by a medical friend. His wife was seriously ill 
 with some obscure abdominal malady, which might 
 well have been tubercular, and, while anxiously ponder- 
 ing over the possible nature of it, he remarked to her, 
 ' It is comforting to think that there has been no tuber- 
 culosis in your family/ She turned to him very 
 astonished and said, ' Have you forgotten that my 
 mother died of tuberculosis, and that my sister re- 
 covered from it only after having been given up by 
 the doctors ? ' His anxiety lest the obscure symptoms 
 should prove to be tubercular had made him forget 
 a piece of knowledge that was thoroughly familiar 
 to him." 
 
 Such an example in itself is sufficient to show that 
 forgetting is not always due to obliviscence, a natural 
 
EVERYDAY LIFE PSYCHO-PATHOLOGY 121 
 
 process of fading from the mind. The fact is that the 
 more we examine our forgetting the more we are 
 impressed with the fact that it is very frequently, if not 
 always, motived by a wanting to forget. It is quite 
 true that at the same time we may also want to remem- 
 ber. Some time ago in the course of a conversation 
 on this subject with a lady, the latter, being unwilling 
 to recognize the truth of these conditions, said, " But 
 how is it, when I am very busy, it is often just the thing 
 I want to remember most, that I forget ? " I evaded 
 the question by telling her to give me the full particulars 
 the next time such a thing occurred. The fact is, that 
 such forgetting is frequently motived by a desire to play 
 the role of a martyr to overwork, a fact which I did not 
 think it wise to communicate in the course of a casual 
 conversation to one who was quite unversed in mind 
 analysis. 
 
 This kind of motive plays a larger part in our lives 
 than most of us are prepared to admit. Undoubtedly 
 the plea of overwork is frequently a defence mechanism 
 of an inferiority complex. There are cases of people 
 who steadily accumulate work, and commit themselves 
 to new undertakings which are obviously beyond their 
 capacity. The reason for this is frequently to be found 
 in the desire to have a satisfactory excuse in the event of 
 any particular task not being satisfactorily performed. 
 In such cases, it not seldom happens that the thing that 
 is omitted is the very one that is of the greatest im- 
 portance or interest. It is as though the person said, 
 " Look here, you can see how overworked I am. I have 
 actually forgotten to go to draw my pay." 
 
 It has been objected that if we are inclined to forget 
 painful incidents, learning by experience would be almost 
 an impossibility. But is it not true that we learn more 
 by succeeding than by failing ? It is the almost success- 
 ful efforts that impress us and stimulate us most as a 
 rule. If the memory of failure is too vivid it discourages 
 and paralyses. All we know of the psychology of sugges- 
 
122 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 
 
 tion and fear confirms this. It is only as a wrong effort 
 is used to indicate how the right effort shall be made, 
 that it is of any value. Then the more we can forget 
 the wrong way and concentrate on the right, the more 
 likely we are to succeed. It is true that when we have 
 become experts we may often refer to the bungles at 
 the beginning. But these memories are no longer 
 unpleasant. They minister to our self-esteem. 
 
 Further, we must bear in mind that it is the unpleasant 
 rather than the painful that we try to escape from. It 
 is a commonplace that " pain may be sweet." At any 
 rate, if it is not sweet in the moment of actual experience, 
 it may become so in memory. The victim assumes more 
 the role of the hero. But in the purely unpleasant we 
 can find no satisfaction. We turn away from it and 
 forget it, unless we can convert it into something less 
 repugnant. But — it maybe asked — why are there some 
 unpleasant things we do not forget ? In the first place 
 it may be said, that there are probably no unpleasant 
 things which are not subject to some measure of forget- 
 ting. Two years after the event it does not recur in 
 memory either with the frequency or vividness that it 
 did the following week, or with the frequency or vivid- 
 ness of some pleasant event of equal importance. 
 Another factor is undoubtedly at work, and that is the 
 factor of mental organization. If the event touches our 
 lives at many points, it is obviously more difficult to 
 forget than if it touched only at a few. This is one 
 reason why a broken friendship is more difficult to forget 
 than a broken arm. 
 
 But the reader may still think that while this explana- 
 tion does cover some examples, there are many cases 
 where it breaks down. To put the objection in the 
 concrete form in which it was expressed by a critical 
 correspondent — " Personally, I am satisfied, as I tell 
 my wife, as to why I forget her commissions — they are a 
 nuisance — but I have not yet found out why I lose my 
 ten-shilling notes, and my umbrella. Freud claims to 
 
EVERYDAY LIFE PSYCHO-PATHOLOGY 123 
 
 explain too much." 1 According to Dr. E. Jones the 
 
 explanation of the losing of an umbrella depends upon 
 
 the place where it is left. To leave it in the house 
 
 of a friend indicates a desire to return. To leave it 
 
 in a public conveyance suggests a desire to be parted 
 
 from the object because of its own intrinsic qualities or 
 
 because of its associations. With regard to losing 
 
 ten-shilling notes, it would be necessary to consider the 
 
 individual cases on their merits. Personally I find I 
 
 have two ways of regarding them. If they are clean 
 
 new ones, I fold them neatly and put them carefully 
 
 away ; if they are old and dirty, I push them without 
 
 ceremony into the pocket which comes handiest. Here 
 
 they keep company with a variety of other things which 
 
 I do not wish to lose, but which I do not want to be 
 
 troubled with at the moment. I do not want to lose 
 
 these notes, but there is a distinct tendency to treat 
 
 them as dirty scraps of paper. 
 
 For some time I have been running over my recent 
 
 experiences to find some further material to illustrate 
 
 this chapter. I could think of nothing suitable, but all 
 
 the time there is one incident which I might have been 
 
 expected to recall at once. Only a week or two ago I 
 
 left a bag of valuable books, and a parcel of my wife's 
 
 on the platform of a certain railway station. But why 
 
 did this incident, which caused me considerable concern 
 
 at the time, elude me when I was looking for such 
 
 instances ? The reader may have the facts and draw 
 
 his own conclusion. After the event, being interested 
 
 in the causes of such forgetting, several times I had 
 
 asked myself, Why did I forget that bag ? But I 
 
 could discover no reason. The incident apparently did 
 
 1 The above was a part of a typewritten communication. If 
 it is read in connexion with what follows immediately afterwards 
 it affords an interesting illustration of another type of phenomena 
 which it is claimed finds a similar explanation. The writer 
 continues, " Bergson has his own theory of forgetting. And 
 there is the case of old people and the insane to show that we 
 forget proper manners first." He intended of course to write 
 
124 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 
 
 not fit in with the theory which I wished to demonstrate, 
 and so I failed to recall it in this connexion. I have again 
 submitted this incident to examination with a view to 
 discovering why I left the bag and the parcel. The 
 more I think of it the more I feel convinced that the 
 explanation is to be found in this direction. I was 
 returning with my wife and maid and child from holiday. 
 For some time we had been couped up in a stuffy com- 
 partment. I couldn't stretch my legs and I couldn't 
 smoke. We had the usual holiday impedimenta — 
 boxes, bags, etc. When we changed at a certain 
 station on the journey we had to show our tickets. To 
 do this I was compelled to put down the bag of books 
 and the parcel I was carrying. I produced the tickets, 
 then lit my pipe, and went off in search of the heavier 
 luggage that was to be placed in the guard's van, leaving 
 behind the things that I was carrying. The forgetting 
 was apparently motived by a selfish, but unconscious 
 desire, to be free from the responsibilities, restrictions 
 and encumbrances which family travelling involves. 
 
 It has been pointed out that women, and especially 
 women in love, are particularly sensitive to this truth. 
 But it is probable that where a thing touches us very 
 intimately and we are not blinded by our own complexes 
 we are all aware of the fact. Be that as it may, let any 
 young man excuse himself to his sweetheart for failing 
 to greet her in the street on the ground that he did not 
 see her, or failing to keep an engagement with her on 
 the ground that he forgot, and he will probably get a 
 lesson in mind analysis which will be far more impressive 
 than any he will get in the pages of this book. The 
 tendency of the young man genuinely in love is all in 
 the opposite direction. He is apt to " see " his loved 
 one in the most unlikely places and in the most unlikely 
 people. He is on the look out for her wherever he goes, 
 and many a time his heart begins to palpitate at the 
 first fleeting glance at some stranger who for the moment 
 he imagines to be the adored one. More than once 
 
EVERYDAY LIFE PSYCHO-PATHOLOGY 125 
 
 after receiving the news of the death of my most intimate 
 and lifelong friend in the War in East Africa as I went 
 about my duties in France and caught sight of some 
 stranger in khaki, I had an uncanny feeling for a moment, 
 
 " It's " Closer examination revealed scarcely the 
 
 slightest resemblance. There can be no doubt, what we 
 want to see we often do see, and what we want to forget 
 we often do forget. As Brill says, most people are more 
 inclined to mislay a bill than a cheque. 
 
 " Slips of the tongue," provide further examples of 
 the way unconscious tendencies often reveal themselves. 
 Freud gives numerous examples in his book. We will 
 cite one of which he was the victim. " Before calling 
 on me a patient telephoned for an appointment, and 
 also wished to be informed about my consultation fee. 
 He was told that the first consultation was ten dollars ; 
 after the examination was over he again asked what he 
 was to pay, and added : ' I don't like to owe money to 
 anyone, especially to doctors ; I prefer to pay right 
 away. ' Instead of pay he said play. His last voluntary 
 remarks and his mistake put me on my guard, but after 
 a few more uncalled-for remarks he set me at ease by 
 taking money from his pocket. He counted four paper 
 dollars and was very chagrined and surprised because 
 he had no more money with him, and promised to send 
 me a cheque for the balance. I was sure that his 
 mistake betrayed him, that he was only playing with me, 
 but there was nothing to be done. At the end of a few 
 weeks I sent him a bill for the balance, and the letter 
 was returned to me by the post-office authorities marked 
 ' Not found.' " 
 
 The mislaying of articles also provides a fruitful 
 field for investigations of this kind. Again we are 
 indebted to Freud for a most interesting case. It 
 refers to a young man who tells the story in his own 
 words. " Several years ago there were some misunder- 
 standings between me and my wife. I found her too 
 cold, and though I fully appreciated her excellent 
 
126 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 
 
 qualities, we lived together without evincing any 
 tenderness for each other. One day on her return from 
 a walk she gave me a book which she had bought because 
 she thought it would interest me. I thanked her for 
 this remark of ' attention/ promised to read the book, 
 put it away, and did not find it again. So months 
 passed, during which I occasionally remembered the 
 lost book, and also tried in vain to find it. 
 
 " About six months later my beloved mother, who 
 was not living with us, became ill. My wife left home 
 to nurse her mother-in-law. The patient's condition 
 became serious and gave my wife the opportunity to 
 show the best side of herself. One evening I returned 
 home full of enthusiasm over what my wife had ac- 
 complished, and felt very grateful to her. I stepped to 
 my desk and, without definite intention, but with the 
 certainty of a somnambulist, I opened a certain drawer, 
 and in the very top of it I found the long-missing mislaid 
 book." 
 
 But Freud has gone even further and analysed cases 
 where apparently arbitrary numbers have arisen in the 
 mind, and shown that they are determined by definite 
 psychical causes. But such instances usually demand 
 more skilful analysis, and, to persons unversed in the 
 science seem far-fetched and improbable. 
 
 The analysis of cases of forgetting of proper names 
 is usually less difficult, but at the same time often rather 
 more complicated than the simple and perhaps rather 
 obvious examples we have already cited. For this 
 reason they provide a particularly useful exercise. 
 Freud, at the beginning of his book, and Jones in the 
 chapter we have referred to, both give a detailed ex- 
 amination of such instances. The following case may 
 possibly prove helpful in the investigation of this type 
 of experience. On no less than three occasions since 
 returning from active service I have endeavoured to 
 recall the name of a certain French village where I 
 lived for two months, and in addition to this, I had lived 
 
EVERYDAY LIFE PSYCHO-PATHOLOGY 127 
 
 in another village only two miles away and had been in 
 constant communication with it for another five months. 
 On each occasion I was compelled to refer to a map, 
 and even then there was a strangeness about the name, 
 though there could be no possible doubt as to its correct- 
 ness. My memory for names is usually good. Why 
 then, did I forget the name Grevillers ? Before ana- 
 lysing this instance it should be said that my memory 
 of the name was partly determined by a vague visual 
 image of the spelling, and partly by an auditory image 
 of its common English pronunciation, and scarcely at 
 all by its proper French pronunciation which was 
 rarely heard. It was commonly referred to as Grey- 
 villers or Grave-ill- ers. The nearest I could get in 
 attempting to recall the name was Etretat or Etaples, 
 both of which places I was perfectly aware are many 
 miles away, the only similarity in these names being 
 the first vowel sound, though I found it an easy matter 
 to establish connexions by association between them 
 and Grave-ill-ers, as follows : Etretat, Etre = to be, 
 "To be or not to be, that is the question " (Hamlet). 
 The connexion with " graves " is obvious. The second 
 part of the word, etat, aetat (Latin), generally found on 
 tomb stones, and in obituary notices ; Etaples, common 
 pronunciation, " ate apple," reminds me of the penalty 
 on Adam's disobedience (see Gen. ii, v, 17). The 
 connexions are obvious, though I am bound to say that 
 I am not aware of any morbid interest in death. 
 
 Turning now to the forgotten word itself, and taking 
 first the part that was most obscured, ill. At once 
 there comes to my mind the only illness that has been 
 of any consequence in my life. But it certainly cannot 
 be described as grave, nor was I ever under the impres- 
 sion that it could. Possibly my fear was that it was not 
 grave enough to enable me to escape from an impending 
 situation that I could not help but regard with some 
 degree of forboding. Of course I was not aware of this 
 at the time, but when I review the course that the illness 
 
128 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 
 
 took, the two partial recoveries that I made, when 
 I over-hastily took up my work in such a way that it 
 was almost certain to aggravate the trouble, when I 
 remember that I did finally manage to evade the dreaded 
 situation, I am bound to admit that the " unconscious 
 wish " to be ill had no small bearing on the course of 
 the trouble. There are several other facts which point 
 in the same direction. Such an experience one does not 
 usually regard with pride. Taking now the first syllable 
 of the word, Gre, my associations are, malgre, mal — ill. 
 Gre — wish, liking, pleasure. Already sufficient associa- 
 tions have been given to show that the significance of 
 the word Grevillers is over determined as " desired 
 illness.' ' Similarly if I take the syllables, villers, the 
 associations lead back to an incident, which even now 
 I cannot help regarding with some degree of repugnance. 
 We have given this example in some detail to indicate 
 the way in which rather more difficult cases may be 
 attacked. But the reader will probably be inclined to 
 doubt the validity of such analysis till he has tried 
 similar ones for himself. A little practice in such self- 
 examination will serve to put us on our guard against 
 the attempt to find a refuge from reality in such excuses 
 as forgetting, accident, overwork, illness. It should 
 not be imagined, however, that we are maintaining that 
 the " unconscious wish " is the only factor, and that 
 there are no genuine cases of accident, overwork, or 
 illness, but what is maintained is that they are far more 
 rare than is commonly supposed. 
 
CHAPTER VII 
 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS AND EDUCATION 
 
 A SATISFACTORY theory of education can only 
 be built up on a satisfactory philosophy, a sound 
 ethic and an adequate psychology. We may, 
 therefore, dismiss at once the idea that such a theory 
 can be constructed on a basis of pure psycho-analysis. 
 We cannot emphasize too plainly, in view of certain 
 claims that have been made, that psycho-analysis is 
 not a " new psychology." The utmost that its founder 
 would claim is that it is a new and exceedingly important 
 development of psychological theory and technique. 
 Further we do not believe it is desirable, necessary or 
 possible to apply the full technique of this method to 
 the task of educating the ordinary child. And finally, 
 we must remember that rapid as the growth of this 
 study has been, it is still in its infancy and it would be 
 nothing less than a blunder and a crime to allow our 
 children to be the victims of some enthusiast with a 
 smattering of what is recognized as a most difficult 
 and complicated branch of knowledge. Nevertheless, 
 we believe it can throw a great amount of light on the 
 problems of education, suggest new view-points, and 
 furnish some guiding principles. From what has been 
 said in previous chapters it will be recognized that two 
 of the chief aims should be the elimination, as far as 
 possible of the methods that work by repression, and 
 the provision of opportunities of sublimation. We shall 
 now consider briefly from this point of view the two 
 great educational institutions, the home and the school, 
 9 129 
 
130 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 
 
 and then the new movement inspired by the ideal of 
 " Freedom in Education," the problem of sexual 
 enlightenment, and finally the nature and possibilities 
 of sublimation. 
 
 I. THE HOME 
 
 Psycho-analysis recognizes in the home, even in these 
 days of universal, compulsory education, the chief 
 factor in the determination of the life and career of the 
 individual. It is the first five years of a child's life that 
 are of the greatest importance in the shaping of his 
 character and attitude to the world, and we are beginning 
 to realize that these are of far greater importance than 
 the acquirement of knowledge or of skill. In these five 
 years the home has almost undisputed sway. And in 
 the home the factor of greatest significance is not the 
 economic, far-reaching as that may be, nor yet the 
 explicit efforts directed towards training and discipline, 
 nor even the example of the parents, but something 
 deeper and more powerful still, what we may call, in 
 its widest sense, the spiritual relations of child and 
 parent. We have already drawn attention to the part 
 that the parent relation plays in the production of 
 nervous disorders. This alone would be sufficient to 
 indicate that an influence that is able to bring about 
 such baneful results must be powerful indeed. 
 
 This problem of family relationship has been made the 
 subject of a series of most interesting psychological 
 experiments by Miss Furst, M.D., a pupil of Dr. Jung. 
 By means of the latter's word association method 
 described in Chapter II, she examined twenty-four 
 families, consisting altogether of one hundred test 
 persons ; the resulting material amounted to 22,200 
 associations." The responses were classified into fifteen 
 groups for each separate person, according to the type 
 
PSYCHO-ANALYSIS AND EDUCATION 131 
 
 of the response. The percentage of each type was 
 worked out and compared both for related and unre- 
 lated persons, and then the average for the whole fifteen 
 groups. It was found that the greatest difference in 
 the types of response was to be found in unrelated 
 female persons, closely followed by unrelated males. 
 The least difference was between mother and daughters, 
 closely followed by father and sons. The general 
 difference between mothers and children was notably 
 less than the difference between fathers and children. 
 The reader will remember that in this experiment that 
 a series of simple words is enunciated one by one and the 
 subject is asked to give the first word that comes into 
 his mind without stopping to think. Bearing this in 
 mind the comment of Jung upon the experiment will 
 be understood. " One might think that in this experi- 
 ment, where full scope is given to chance, individuality 
 would become a factor of the utmost importance, and 
 that, therefore, one might expect a very great diversity 
 and lawlessness of associations. But as we see the 
 opposite is the case. Thus the daughter lives con- 
 tentedly in the same circle of ideas as her mother, not 
 only in her thought but in her form of expression ; 
 indeed, she even uses the same words. What could be 
 regarded as more inconsequent, inconstant, and lawless 
 than a fancy, a rapidly passing thought ? It is not 
 lawless, however, neither is it free, but closely deter- 
 mined within the limits of the milieu." 1 If such slight 
 and superficial activities of the mind are so much 
 influenced by the family environment, how much more 
 should we expect, Jung asks, the more important 
 conditions of the mind, the emotions, wishes and hopes, 
 and intentions to be determined by that environment ? 
 Most of us, probably at some time or other have 
 laughed at some fond mother's exaggerated ideas of the 
 intelligence of her infant child, but it is quite possible 
 that she was nearer the truth than we were. It may be 
 1 Jung, " Analytical Psychology." 
 
132 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 
 
 true that the child's intelligence was not sufficiently 
 developed for it to grasp the meaning of the words 
 addressed to it, but the child has a remarkable emotional 
 sensitivity, which often impels it to behave as though 
 it really understood. We must remember that the 
 wide differences that exist between the thought capacities 
 of child and adult are far greater than the differences 
 of emotional capacity. Even a young infant of little 
 more than a year old is quite capable of manifesting 
 signs of most of the great primary emotions, and very 
 early his emotional life begins to organize itself into the 
 simpler sentiments. Then again psychological observa- 
 tion goes to show that as a rule, the more restricted the 
 powers of thought, the more sensitive is the emotional 
 life within its range. For these reasons we regard the 
 emotional atmosphere in the home as of the very utmost 
 significance in the education of the child. Long before 
 it can walk or talk the personality of mother and father, 
 and especially the former are leaving their indelible 
 mark on its young mind. The words of Jung on this 
 subject are deserving of the most careful consideration 
 by every parent and teacher. " It is not the good and 
 pious precepts, nor is it any other inculcation of peda- 
 gogic truths that have a moulding influence upon the 
 character of the developing child, but what most in- 
 fluences him is the peculiarly affective state which is 
 totally unknown to his parents and educators. The 
 concealed discord between the parents, the secret worry, 
 the repressed and hidden wishes, all these produce in 
 the individual a certain affective state with its objective 
 signs which slowly but surely, though unconsciously, 
 works its way into the child's mind, producing therein 
 the same conditions and hence the same reactions to 
 external stimuli. We know the depressing effect 
 mournful and melancholic persons have upon us. A 
 restless and nervous individual infects his surroundings 
 with unrest and dissatisfaction, a grumbler with his 
 discontent, etc. Since grown-up persons are so sensi- 
 
PSYCHO-ANALYSIS AND EDUCATION 133 
 
 tive to surrounding influences, we should certainly 
 expect this to be even more noticeable among children, 
 whose minds are as soft and plastic as wax. The father 
 and mother impress deeply into the child's mind the seal 
 of their personality ; the more sensitive and mouldable 
 the child the deeper is the impression. Thus things 
 that are never even spoken about are reflected in the 
 child. The child imitates the gesture, and just as the 
 gesture of the parent is the expression of an emotional 
 state, so in turn the gesture gradually produces in the 
 child a similar feeling, as it feels itself, so to speak, into 
 the gesture. Just as the parents adapt themselves to 
 the world, so does the child." 1 
 
 This is so excellently expressed and backed by such 
 an extensive experience that we hesitate to qualify it 
 in any way. But we would warn the reader against 
 forming the impression that the last two sentences may 
 possibly leave, that it is all, or even mainly, a matter 
 of imitation. The child's emotional response is far 
 more sensitive and immediate than that. There can 
 be no doubt that there are times when, to use McDougall's 
 terminology, the emotion is sympathetically induced, 
 before the gesture is copied. 2 ' Further it should not be 
 thought that the child's adaptation is always a mere 
 repetition of the parents'. The child's individuality is 
 rarely obliterated to that extent, and the identification 
 which such an adaptation involves is frequently modified 
 by reaction formations to a parent who is feared or 
 hated. But these observations only serve to emphasize 
 more strongly the warnings to which Jung has here 
 given expression. 
 
 But the question naturally arises in view of these 
 considerations, Why is it that good and respectable 
 people frequently have children who are quite the 
 
 1 Op. cit., p. 126. 
 
 2 Jung is perfectly well aware of this. In his Introduction to 
 Mrs. Evans' "Problem of the Nervous Child," he says, "the 
 infantile imitation is less concerned with the action than with the 
 parent's state of mind from which the action emanates." 
 
134 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 
 
 reverse ? It would be foolish to answer this question 
 with a sweeping generalization. Each particular case 
 demands to be examined on its own merits. But many 
 cases find their explanation in this direction. The 
 goodness of the parents, to put it in general terms, is a 
 reaction formation from, rather than a sublimation of, 
 certain base impulses. In their earlier years, conscious 
 of these impulses they turned away from them with 
 revulsion and loathing. The result is that these 
 tendencies are still active but find expression in harsh 
 and immoderate condemnation. It is very probable 
 that the children will inherit strong tendencies in the 
 same direction. The harsh condemnation then only 
 brings these things all the more vividly into conscious- 
 ness, and thereby reinforces the already strong desire. 
 If this desire is not satisfied in defiance of parental 
 admonition, it not infrequently leads to " kicking over 
 the traces " and its unpredictable consequences. 
 
 But it is possible that the explanation may be found 
 in the fact that the parents were themselves subjected 
 to stern discipline, and their undesirable impulses 
 thereby checked. Then with a vague and perhaps 
 scarcely realized desire they give their children the 
 " freedom " which they so sorely missed, they allow them 
 latitude without being able to sublimate the impulses 
 that are receiving full play. It is a matter of common 
 observation that parents often look to their children 
 for the fulfilment of their own unrealized desires. But 
 it is not only the conscious wish that is thus fulfilled, 
 but also the unconscious tendency. For this reason 
 Jung frequently advises in the case of young patients 
 the treatment of the mother rather than the child. 
 But let it be clearly understood that these considerations 
 are not offered as a final answer to the question before 
 us, but rather as an indication of the lines along which 
 an explanation may probably be found. 
 
 It is not necessary, perhaps, to say very much about 
 the special problem of only and favourite children. 
 
PSYCHO-ANALYSIS AND EDUCATION 135 
 
 The danger is well known. But the real peril is that we 
 may see the mistakes of other people in this respect, 
 while we are often blinded by our complexes to our own. 
 A most interesting study of this question is to be found 
 in the story of the Hebrew patriarchs as recorded in 
 the book of Genesis. Ishmael, the son of Abraham and 
 Hagar, the Egyptian bondslave, develops an inferiority 
 complex through being deprived of his rightful place 
 in the family life and compensates for it by becoming a 
 skilled archer and a rebel against society, while Isaac, 
 the pampered and petted son of his parents' old age, is 
 a nonentity. In the next generation a tragedy is 
 narrowly averted between Esau and Jacob whose 
 rivalry, if not originally caused, was fomented by the 
 favouritism of the father towards the one, and of the 
 mother towards the other. It is interesting to note 
 that Jacob marries his cousin on his mother's side, and 
 between the wife, Rachel, and the mother, Rebecca, 
 there was at least one explicitly stated resemblance. 
 They were both deceitful. As psycho-analysis has 
 shown over and over again, the choice of a wife is largely 
 determined, in many cases, by the mother image. In 
 the third generation the same family tragedy was again 
 barely escaped. This time it was due to Jacob's 
 favouritism of Joseph and afterwards of Benjamin. 
 Indeed there can be little doubt that Brill is right in 
 finding that many of the difficulties that have arisen 
 in the course of the checkered history of the Jews have 
 been caused by their deep conviction that they were 
 Jehovah's peculiar people. It should not be thought, 
 however, that we wish to maintain that " only " 
 children are the inevitable victims of their position. 
 Much depends on the common sense of the parents, 
 and the opportunities that are provided of getting in 
 touch with the outside world, and of mixing with other 
 children. The position of favourite children is much 
 more unfortunate. Here the parents are definitely 
 to blame, and the problem is almost sure to be further 
 
136 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 
 
 complicated by the jealous regard of the other children 
 of the family. 
 
 Such considerations as these point to the conclusion 
 that the child should not be denied a reasonable meed of 
 affection, nor on the other hand swamped with senti- 
 mental indulgence. Either extreme is bound to pro- 
 duce baneful results. He should not be encouraged to 
 waste his emotional energies in an undue attachment 
 to the parents, or in resentment against real or imaginary 
 wrongs, but his energies should rather be directed to- 
 wards the tackling of the problems of his environment. 
 The aim of the parent should be the graduation of those 
 difficulties and an adjustment of them to his growing 
 capacities. Interference should be reduced to a mini- 
 mum, and should be directed towards the end of inducing 
 the child to find his satisfaction in the tackling and 
 overcoming of difficulties rather than in the pleasure 
 of external rewards or the avoiding of the pain of 
 external penalties. As far as possible he should learn 
 from experience rather than from the exhortations and 
 other types of interference of his would-be educators. 
 Holt in his " Freudian Wish " has a chapter on the 
 subject which is well worth attention. At the same 
 time we readily admit that when we come up against 
 the concrete problem it is often anything but easy of 
 solution. It may be possible as Holt suggests, to let 
 a little toddler get just sufficient contact with fire to 
 know that it can be unpleasant as well as attractive, 
 but he cannot be allowed to learn by experience the 
 physiological effects of coal gas, by being allowed to 
 play with the brass taps of the kitchen stove. It is 
 true that much may be done by reducing the number 
 of provoking but dangerous objects in his environment, 
 and the provision of other objects of interest, but the 
 problem cannot always be solved in this way. Sooner 
 or later the child must learn not to touch the taps. 
 The more such problems can be postponed till the child 
 is able to understand and accept the simple word of 
 
PSYCHO-ANALYSIS AND EDUCATION 137 
 
 his parents, the better. But we do not think it is 
 desirable to eliminate entirely all forms of punishment 
 and reward from the training of a young and active child, 
 but they should be reduced to a minimum, and should 
 be as rational and impersonal as it is possible to make 
 them. Too often punishment is just the abreaction 
 of angry feelings, and not infrequently the expression 
 of a definitely sadistic impulse. It may be necessary 
 to remind some people that a child does not necessarily 
 commit a crime because he acts in a way that is in- 
 convenient to his elders. 
 
 It should scarcely be necessary at this stage, to point 
 out the desirability of trying to discover the causes that 
 underlie cases of misconduct. Such cases often take 
 the form of a compromise formation, by means of 
 which a tendency which is denied its natural expression, 
 finds its satisfaction in some other way. In this con- 
 nexion Healy's " Mental Conflict and Misconduct " is 
 full of illuminating material. He cites in some detail 
 the results of a mental analysis of forty cases selected 
 out of 150 in which he found misconduct was determined 
 by mental conflict. The cases cover kleptomania, 
 bad temper, extreme wilfulness, destructiveness, running 
 away from home, and malicious cruelty. It is a signifi- 
 cant fact that Healy found in practically every case 
 that " sex " played a large part in the production of 
 the conflict, either in actual sexual experiences, or in 
 sexual knowledge improperly acquired from bad com- 
 panions, or through some stigma or doubt attaching 
 to the child's parentage, etc. The examination of the 
 cases reveals that often the child had no desire to steal 
 or run away, that he gained nothing but trouble and 
 pain by these activities, but was apparently under a 
 kind of compulsion which the child himself often realized 
 was connected with the sex interests. We will cite by 
 way of illustration Case 3. It was of a boy of ten years, 
 who was guilty of repeated acts of stealing and staying 
 away from home at nights. His self -revelation is as 
 
138 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 
 
 pathetic as it is artless. Healy gives the following 
 extract in the boy's own words : " That kid I was 
 telling you about was the first I heard bad words from. 
 He was one of the kids that was in the barn that I was 
 telling you about, where the rag-man was. I never 
 told mamma about him. His family moved away now. 
 He would tell bad words in the settlement house. I 
 think of these : that's how it spoils me. I used to tell 
 bad words, but no more. When a kid gets to know 
 these things, he feels like saying them out. I don't 
 no more : it makes me sick. ... If I see a girl going 
 to the store, I think about what they said about taking 
 money away. I think of things. It sounds it — it 
 sounds it ; I don't like to tell about them, I'm ashamed. 
 . . . Sure, it comes to my mind about robbing. When 
 it comes in mind to take things, I get sort of scared, 
 and then maybe I take it and put it down in my hand 
 like this, roll it in my sweater sleeve. They don't like 
 me in our house, my pa don't. . . . The teachers say 
 they don't want me because I spoil the other boys. . . ." x 
 Not so long ago, the only " cure " for such a case would 
 have been the birch. It makes one sick to think of 
 the intolerable wrong. 
 
 In reviewing these cases Dr. Healy is unable to find 
 any explanation in family history, in nationality, in 
 general abilities or special mental characteristics, or 
 in environmental circumstances. The cases came from 
 all ranks and conditions of society. But he makes one 
 very significant comment. " There is one common 
 feature, however, that belongs to what may be called 
 the psychical environment. These misdoers with mental 
 conflicts never had anyone near to them, particularly 
 in family life, who supplied opportunities for sympa- 
 thetic confidences. Repression has gone on very largely 
 as the result of this need." a All too often the mind of 
 
 1 P. 95- 
 
 2 W. Healy, " Mental Conflict and Misconduct," p. 321. 
 Kegan Paul, 1920. 
 
PSYCHO-ANALYSIS AND EDUCATION 139 
 
 the child is a sealed book to the parent, sealed by a 
 lack of candour and sympathetic insight very often on 
 the part of well-meaning parents. But we shall return 
 to this subject in a later section. 
 
 It may possibly be objected that these are exceptional 
 cases. In the offences that were committed it is true, 
 but it must be borne in mind that as far as the most 
 careful and expert examination could discover the vast 
 majority of these children were otherwise perfectly 
 normal. It must be remembered further that the 
 mechanisms that were apparently responsible for these 
 offences are at work to some extent in the mind of every 
 child. It is the obvious duty, therefore, of every 
 parent to try and win the child's confidence. It is not 
 to be obtained by coercion, or by suspicious prying. 
 But confidence begets confidence, and candour begets 
 candour, while fear breeds fear and repression breeds 
 repression. In view of these considerations it can 
 hardly be denied that the thing that is of outstanding 
 importance in the upbringing of a child is the character 
 and spiritual quality of the parents, and that the aim 
 of the latter should be to avoid repressing the indi- 
 viduality of the child, and to encourage the growth of 
 a rational independence that when the time comes for 
 the adolescent to go forth and face life for himself he 
 may do so with resolute spirit and a stout heart. 
 
 2. THE SCHOOL 
 
 Practically everything that has been said of the home 
 has its bearing on the problem and work of the school. 
 At the present time, when, under economic pressure so 
 much disparaging criticism of our educational efficiency 
 is rife, it may possibly be some little comfort to teachers 
 that psycho-analysis bids parents look first of all a little 
 nearer home for the cause of the alleged failure. But 
 
140 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 
 
 such comfort will be very short-lived for every right- 
 minded teacher. Such consolation is very like the 
 gratitude that was expressed in the story of the church 
 official who after bewailing the poor attendance at his 
 church, heaved a sigh of relief and said, " But thank 
 God the church over the road is doing no better ! " 
 
 Just as in the home it is the personality of the parent 
 that is the most powerful influence, so in the school it 
 is the personality of the teacher that counts most. 
 Methods and curricula are undoubtedly important, 
 but even so their importance is secondary. This, of 
 course, does not mean that the teacher should dominate, 
 and certainly he should not domineer. Even in such 
 methods as the Montessori, where the role of the teacher 
 is reduced as far as possible to that of an observer, the 
 teacher is still the most significant fact in the child's 
 environment. In his discussion of this subject, Prof. 
 Nunn says, of the Montessori directress, " She, with her 
 superior powers and knowledge and her developed 
 personality, is herself a constant and most important 
 element in the environment, and exercises on the grow- 
 ing minds about her an influence that will be none the 
 less decisive because it is brought to bear in the indirect 
 form of suggestion and example rather than by precept 
 and command. . . . Insensibly but surely her values 
 become their values, her standards their standards ; 
 and from her come the influences that direct the children's 
 social impulses into definite forms of kindly action." 1 
 " The Law of Normal Suggestibity," formulated by 
 Boris Sidis on the basis of an extensive series of experi- 
 ments, provides an illuminating comment on this passage 
 " Normal suggestibility varies as indirect suggestion, 
 and inversely as direct suggestion." 2 
 
 The task of the teacher is, in several respects more 
 complicated than that of the parent, though it is well 
 
 1 Nunn, " Education : Its Data and First Principles." 
 Arnold, 1920. 
 
 2 Boris Sidis, " Psychology of Suggestion." 
 
PSYCHO-ANALYSIS AND EDUCATION 141 
 
 to remember that in at least one way it is rendered 
 more simple. Education is the sole business of the 
 teacher, while the average mother finds her time very 
 largely taken up with other household duties, and the 
 father's work rarely provides much leisure to devote 
 to his offspring. But the parents have the advantage 
 of beginning at the beginning, while the teacher, as a 
 rule, only takes up her duties when the first five most 
 important years are past. The child comes to her 
 already bearing the indelible marks of the home. It 
 is essential that the teacher should discover as accurately 
 as possible what the general trends of the home influence 
 are, and where they are satisfactory, strive to co-operate 
 with them, and where they are harmful, wisely and tact- 
 fully to endeavour to counteract them. This task is 
 admittedly not an easy one. No two scholars and no 
 two homes are exactly alike. Economic necessity in 
 the home and the size of the class in the school, to say 
 nothing of the factor of personal inertia, lead to the 
 adoption of measures and devices, of which the aim is 
 rather to secure the amenability of the child than his 
 true education. But there are two considerations 
 worthy of note in this connexion. The time that is 
 spent in getting to understand the child, and winning 
 his confidence and co-operation, will probably be more 
 than saved later on, when instead of having to repeat 
 lessons again and again in the endeavour to drive them 
 home into a recalcitrant mind, or one that is inhibited 
 by misgivings, the child responds with eagerness and 
 confidence, and the lessons are learnt with a minimum 
 of friction and loss of time. Further, if the spontaneous 
 interests of the scholar were more utilized, and methods 
 of self-education more extensively adopted, as in the 
 Montessori method, the size of the class would constitute 
 a less serious difficulty. By a wise use of the child's 
 spontaneous interests the teacher's time might be con- 
 siderably economized, and what is more important the 
 child would bring to his work a unified interest and good- 
 
142 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 
 
 will which would enable him to make the most of his 
 natural gifts. Undoubtedly it is one of the most 
 hopeful signs of the schools of to-day that they are 
 curbing less that natural spontaneity which is the right- 
 ful possession of every child. The writer has personal 
 knowledge of a school where twenty years ago, the ideal 
 of goodness instilled by force majeure into the scholars' 
 mind was to sit absolutely motionless with arms folded 
 behind the back, and the children were allowed to 
 believe that the further back they were able to hold 
 their heads the more nearly they reached perfection. 
 Any day an observer might see children from three to 
 six years of age coming out of that school, and here and 
 there he would see a little fellow with his cap peeping 
 from under his blouse, marching the whole length of 
 the playground with his arms still folded behind his 
 back, apparently not realizing till he was right outside 
 of the school precincts that he was free to relax. Such 
 " discipline " can only create slaves or rebels. 
 
 Another difficulty the teacher has to contend with is 
 the rigid school furniture, the rigid time-table and the 
 rigid regulations. There is no doubt that these 
 " rigidities " will have to yield if real progress is to be 
 made. In the present day, however, it looks as if pro- 
 gress must take a " back seat " in the interests of 
 economy. But " where there is a will there is a way." 
 Finance is not an insuperable obstacle ; it is more fre- 
 quently an excuse to justify spiritual inertia which is 
 the real obstacle. If teachers know what they want 
 and have the courage to fight for it and the willingness 
 to sacrifice for it, the strongest departmental opposition 
 and the most obstinate social lethargy will yield. The 
 real difficulty, we believe, lies in finding out what is 
 really wanted. In this quest psycho-analysis may 
 render real service. 
 
 But the teacher may ask, has this study any contri- 
 bution to make with regard to the details of the cur- 
 riculum ? On this question we can only offer a few 
 
PSYCHO-ANALYSIS AND EDUCATION 143 
 
 general observations. The aim of education, as it 
 appears to psycho-analysis, is the development of the 
 individual so that he may make his maximum contribu- 
 tion to society and find in it his maximum satisfaction. 
 It is obvious, therefore, that the child should acquire 
 at least the rudiments of that knowledge and skill without 
 which he is bound to be seriously incapacitated in taking 
 his place in modern society. The training of the senses 
 is undoubtedly desirable, especially the senses of sight, 
 hearing and touch, for these are the chief gateways to 
 the outer world. The average person probably imagines 
 that these senses need no training, but then the average 
 person has " eyes and sees not, ears and hears not," 
 and is quite oblivious of the fact. It will be more 
 readily agreed that the child should be able to read and 
 write and be capable of simple arithmetical calculations. 
 History, geography, literature, science, music, art, and 
 manual training are all desirable, but the aim of the 
 elementary school, it seems to us, should be to link these 
 subjects to the child's actual interests and to awaken 
 the desire for knowledge rather than to attempt to crowd 
 his mind with facts. The question of religious training 
 is the most difficult of all. To us the religious ideal 
 stands for the final synthesis of all mental activity, 
 both in thought and action, and the reconciliation 
 of all the diverse interests of mankind in mutual 
 service and fellowship. But we are a long way from 
 that. Meanwhile we do not see what good is to 
 be expected from religious training as long as it 
 is left in the hands of teachers who have no religious 
 faith and often no religious interest, or on the 
 other hand to enthusiasts who have neither natural 
 nor acquired qualifications for teaching. We do not 
 wish to convey the impression that this is the universal 
 state of affairs, but undoubtedly it is all too common. 
 
 We have said that psycho-analysis suggests as the 
 aim of education the fitting of the individual to take his 
 place in the world and in social life. If this aim is 
 
144 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 
 
 sound then it follows as a consequence that our schools 
 should be organized so as to make the transition from 
 the home and the nursery to the workshop and the world 
 as smooth and satisfactory as possible. It is impossible 
 to reproduce in the school all the varied conditions 
 the adolescent will meet in the world and it would 
 not be desirable if it could be done. But at present the 
 transition is far too abrupt. After being sheltered and 
 shepherded in the school, he is turned out to fight and 
 fend for himself as best he can, very often in the most 
 critical years of his life. What is needed is such an 
 arrangement of school life, especially in the later years, 
 as will provide the scholar with practical lessons in self- 
 control, independence and sound judgment by means 
 of actual experience. To this end it is desirable that 
 a certain amount of time should be set aside, at any rate 
 for the older scholars, when tasks and plans of their own 
 choosing, should be executed with a minimum of external 
 aid or regulation. If, as is very possible, this involves 
 a certain amount of confusion and conflict amongst the 
 individual aims, the scholars should talk over their 
 schemes in council with the view of devising a scheme 
 by which these difficulties could be overcome. The 
 teacher should interfere as little as possible and avoid 
 settling difficulties by arbitrary decrees, seeking rather 
 to indicate lines along which the children may find a 
 solution of their troubles. They should be encouraged 
 to talk in a simple and natural way to the teacher about 
 their work and aims, not as to one to whom they are 
 accountable, or of whom they stand in fear, but rather 
 as to an interested and experienced friend. Further 
 the recent developments of the Continuation Schools 
 should provide the wise and sympathetic teacher with 
 an opportunity of making the transition from school to 
 workshop and business less abrupt. But boys at this 
 age are not the most accessible of beings and are apt to 
 regard the school as a menace to their freedom and as an 
 unwelcome reminder that they are still boys. Hence 
 
PSYCHO-ANALYSIS AND EDUCATION 145 
 
 arise the challenge and temptation to rule with a strong 
 hand. But the result of such measures is only to post- 
 pone the problem and render it more acute. 
 
 If psycho-analysis emphasizes the necessity of pro- 
 viding each individual with the fullest opportunities for 
 development, it emphasizes not less the necessity of a 
 healthy development of corporate life. The neurosis, as 
 Jones reminds us, is essentially a social disorder, arising 
 from, and perpetuating, social maladjustment. Here 
 again, it is the personality of the teacher or parent that 
 constitutes no small part of the difficulty, because with 
 the best of intentions he is apt to dominate the situation. 
 If the teacher is of a masterful spirit, he thereby over- 
 stimulates both the self-abasement and the self-assertion 
 tendencies. The consequence is, that the children 
 manifest in their relations to him, too great a degree of 
 subservience, and in their relations to one another are 
 inclined to be too overbearing so that they can only 
 find a solution of their differences by a trial of brute 
 strength. Rather should the teacher strive, by a wise 
 self-effacement, to encourage the spirit of comradeship 
 and co-operation which will lead the children to seek 
 for themselves, a fair and equitable way out of their 
 social difficulties. 
 
 Another aim of education suggested by the study on 
 which we are engaged is the increasing of the powers of 
 the child's adaptability. No educator can foresee what 
 will be the future history of his charges, or what will 
 be the nature of the social changes which will affect 
 their lives. It is, therefore, very desirable that the 
 child should learn to adapt himself to unexpected 
 situations, and to face disappointments with such 
 courage and resourcefulness, that he may make even 
 these, as far as possible, serve his own legitimate ends. 
 
 There is one other question of very great interest to 
 every educator, to which we must refer in this all-too- 
 brief survey. It is the question of the child's intelli- 
 gence. Ingenious tests have been devised by M. Alfred 
 10 
 
146 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 
 
 Binet, of Paris, and developed by later investigators 
 with a view to measuring intelligence. But analysis 
 has revealed that a child's apparent intelligence is 
 determined not merely by his native endowments, 
 but also by his acquired unconscious " resistances." 
 Physical factors, such as mal-nutrition, adenoids, etc., 
 are now commonly recognized as playing a great part 
 in determining the child's capacity, but the psychical 
 factor of resistance is either overlooked or mis-inter- 
 preted. Many a scholar fails to make the most of his 
 gifts because he is inhibited by fear or misgivings, or 
 is animated by an unconscious hostility to the teacher, 
 very probably a transference from one or other of his 
 parents, or he is in the grip of an inferiority complex, 
 which is also probably of family origin. It is possible 
 that the backwardness may apply to only one or two 
 subjects. In that case it is frequently that the pupil 
 has a resistance against that subject on account of some 
 unpleasant, but unrealized associations. In such cases it 
 is rarely of much use to resort to questioning, exhorting 
 or punishing. The teacher must endeavour to discover 
 the causes of the trouble. A detailed psycho-analysis 
 is rarely necessary. As a rule the child's unconscious is 
 easily accessible to the sympathetic mind that is not 
 blinded by its own complexes. It is usually quite 
 sufficient to win the child's confidence and then to 
 encourage him to talk freely. It is, perhaps, scarcely 
 necessary to point out that the teacher who is in the 
 habit of employing sarcasm or stinging ridicule as aids 
 to discipline will make little headway in this direction. 
 The discovery of the causes will suggest the remedy 
 as far as it lies in the teacher's power. Indeed with the 
 winning of the child's confidence the battle is more than 
 three parts won. These considerations bring us face 
 to face with the problem of freedom. 
 
PSYCHO-ANALYSIS AND EDUCATION 147 
 
 3. EDUCATION AND FREEDOM 
 
 It has been impossible entirely to avoid any reference 
 to this question in considering the place of the home and 
 the school in the work of education. We have only 
 reserved it for separate attention because of its special 
 importance from the point of view from which we are 
 looking at the problem of education, and because of 
 the great interest it is arousing in educational circles 
 to-day. 
 
 The question of " freedom " is one involving exten- 
 sive and subtle psychological and philosophical implica- 
 tions. We must perforce be content with a few obser- 
 vations on the subject. Democracy in the State 
 involves freedom as an educative ideal. The old 
 dictum, " that man is everywhere born free," is in 
 flagrant contradiction to the facts. The new-born 
 child is the most helpless and dependent of creatures, 
 utterly devoid of all but the barest potentialities of 
 freedom, and equally incapable of respecting the rights 
 to it in others. It is only by education that he can enter 
 into the liberty which a free community provides. 
 There are, then, two aspects of freedom that must be 
 carefully distinguished, which we may call personal 
 freedom and social freedom. The latter is determined 
 by the nature (not the multiplicity) of the laws, 
 traditions and public opinion of the community. That 
 community is most free which provides its members 
 with the widest choice of ends and the fullest facilities 
 for realizing them. But a man may be free by the law 
 and customs of the State to enter any one of a hundred 
 different occupations, but if he is lacking in the qualifi- 
 cations for these tasks, to use Prof. Hobhouse's phrase 
 he is not " free by the law of the facts." He is lacking 
 in personal freedom, and this is only to be obtained by 
 education. In the same way social freedom can only 
 be created and maintained by awakening within the 
 
148 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 
 
 individual a sacred regard for the rights of freedom in 
 others. " Freedom through education," should be 
 the watch-word of democracy. 
 
 But the movement to which we referred above does 
 not regard freedom merely as an end, but also as a 
 means to that end. Its watchword is " Freedom in 
 Education." It works on the principle that the 
 individual can only learn to be free by being free to 
 learn. It is contended that coercion and constraint 
 are bound to produce a certain amount of dissociation 
 and a consequent dissipation of energy, and that as a 
 matter of experimental fact children do learn more 
 quickly and effectively when wise use is made of their 
 spontaneous interests. Various methods have been 
 devised to embody these ideas, the best known being 
 that of Dr. Maria Montessori. With these efforts the 
 psycho-analyst is bound to evince the keenest sympathy. 
 But he is also bound to draw attention to these facts 
 which may be easily overlooked. Spontaneity is not 
 identical with freedom. The flock of sheep that rushes 
 headlong over a precipice, following a leader who has 
 caught sight of some toothless old mongrel, is not free. 
 Nor is the child free who simply obeys the imitative 
 impulse to carry out a certain activity, even though 
 that activity is useful and not harmful. He is only 
 truly free when he learns to think and act for himself 
 and learns to think and act rationally. Further the 
 child who is labouring under the tyranny of a parent 
 or inferiority complex cannot be free no matter what 
 may be the nature of the school environment. And it 
 is on this spiritual freedom of the individual that 
 psycho-analysis lays its supreme emphasis. 
 
 The reader who is interested in the effort to translate 
 the ideal of " Freedom in Education " into practice, 
 will find some interesting illustrations of what is being 
 done in this direction, in Miss Alice Wood's " Education 
 Experiments in England." But a consideration of 
 these experiments reveals the necessity of emphasizing 
 
PSYCHO-ANALYSIS AND EDUCATION 149 
 
 the importance of personal freedom. To provide the 
 child with an environment where coercion and restraint 
 are reduced to a minimum is desirable, but it is not 
 enough. To some extent it is true that social freedom 
 helps towards personal freedom. But in many cases, 
 if not in all, something more is needed. And that 
 " something more " cannot be obtained by the most 
 skilful and liberal organization. It will depend almost 
 entirely upon what we may call " mental contacts," of 
 scholar with scholar, and especially of scholar with 
 teacher. If the teacher is not free from the desire to 
 domineer, free from vanity, free from the lust for 
 spectacular results with the least expenditure of energy, 
 if affection is not kept untainted with sentimentality, 
 if in a word, the teacher is not spiritually free, neither 
 can the children be free or learn to be free. But with 
 this must go insight into the working of the individual 
 child's mind, especially into the working of its deeper 
 strata. To discover what are the impulses that are not 
 finding satisfaction, what tendencies are being warped 
 by the influence of home or companions — this is an 
 essential if the child is to be led into true liberty. The 
 way to this discovery lies through the child's day- 
 dreams. To be able to win and deserve this confidence 
 seems to us the hall-mark of the true teacher. Freedom 
 and friendship go hand-in-hand. The supreme require- 
 ments of the teacher are character and discernment. 
 Knowledge in the ordinary sense is important, but it 
 is subordinate to them. 
 
 In conclusion we would repeat that it is beyond the 
 province of this study to formulate a complete theory 
 of education. Even in this brief sketch we must plead 
 guilty to having trespassed on other domains. The 
 observations we have ventured to make need to be 
 amplified and orientated in the light of the facts to be 
 obtained from other branches of knowledge. After 
 all man is not merely an animal with an unconscious. 
 But the theory which ignores the unconscious is seriously 
 
150 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 
 
 incomplete in that it fails to take account of a most 
 powerful dynamic for weal or woe in the psychic life of 
 man. 
 
 4. SEXUAL EDUCATION 
 
 It is becoming increasingly recognized that the 
 education of the child is deplorably incomplete if it 
 ignores the tremendous significance and power of the 
 sexual instinct. If there is any truth in the theories 
 that we have endeavoured to expound in this book, 
 then such an omission comes perilously near to reducing 
 education to a systematized process of evasion. For- 
 tunately, however, we often build better than we know, 
 and without realizing it, provide opportunities for the 
 partial sublimation of these impulses. But in these 
 days of scientific enquiry we can never rest contented 
 with such an attitude, nor can we regard it as being 
 adequate to the needs of the child. The process of 
 sublimation is rarely, if ever complete. As a rule all it 
 can do is to effect a certain amount of relief from the 
 definitely sexual urge. The facts must still be faced. 
 The problem is undoubtedly one of great difficulty and 
 delicacy, and possibly always will be. There is a con- 
 siderable difference of opinion as to how it should be 
 tackled, though these tend to converge on two or 
 three main principles. It is universally agreed that the 
 conspiracy of silence must cease. It is both futile and 
 dangerous. A child probably never entirely outgrows 
 the effects of learning the root facts of life from vulgar 
 and possibly obscene sources. Even if the effort to 
 shield him from these is successful, he is still exposed to 
 the danger of unguided fantasies. The impression 
 that some parents have, that because their children 
 never speak about these things they never think about 
 them, has been proved in case after case to be utterly 
 
PSYCHO-ANALYSIS AND EDUCATION 151 
 
 erroneous. Because the subject is difficult that is all 
 the more reason why the child should not be left to 
 haphazard discovery. We shall now endeavour briefly 
 to indicate what seem to be the best lines of procedure. 
 In the first place the sexual instinct should be shielded 
 as far as possible from unnecessary stimulation. This 
 stimulation may be internal or external. With regard 
 to the former, if a child is found to be over-interested 
 in its sexual organs, one visit to the doctor will probably 
 be sufficient to put this matter right. In any case stern 
 threats and punishment should be avoided. If they 
 secure apparent success they are almost bound to turn 
 that interest into a secret but fearful fascination. The 
 parent may be successful in controlling the child's 
 actions, but such methods only drive the trouble inward 
 and accentuate it. It is far better to engage the 
 attention in external objects and thus divert it from 
 the self. If it is necessary to speak, this should be done 
 in matter-of-fact, everyday tones, and epithets calcu- 
 lated to arouse disgust and fear should be avoided. 
 Another recommendation on which psycho-analysts 
 are unanimous, is that children over twelve months of 
 age should not sleep in the same room as their parents. 
 The reason for this is, that, as we have already explained, 
 a child's emotional sensibility is far greater than the 
 range of his understanding, and he is capable of being 
 profoundly moved by things of which he has the very 
 vaguest intellectual apprehension. Another common 
 practice which should be avoided is that of tickling. 
 This is undoubtedly a form of sexual stimulation and 
 gratification. Young people should not indulge in 
 literature or entertainments whose principal appeal is 
 to the erotic motive. This does not include merely 
 what is commonly recognized as vulgar or immoral. 
 Many a novel that ends up with the orthodox wedding 
 bells is quite capable of arousing a most powerful 
 sexual interest, and not infrequently gives a totally 
 false impression of the realities of life. In this respect, 
 
152 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 
 
 at least, Sir Walter Scott is a more healthy influence for 
 the adolescent than Charlotte Bronte. 
 
 The second principle that should be observed is that of 
 absolute candour. Evasion, deception and lies should 
 be eschewed. It is time the stork and the apple-tree 
 were dead, and the doctor's bag buried with them. The 
 child's questions should receive simple straightforward 
 answers. But there is no need to go beyond what the 
 child wants to know. Further, candour does not mean 
 bluntness. There is no reason why birth should not 
 have its poetry as well as youthful love. But the 
 poetry must not conceal the truth, but bring out its 
 real beauty. These simple truths should be imparted 
 by the parents, preferably by the mother, and no pains 
 should be spared on their part to find out the best way 
 to carry out this responsibility. It is their sacred duty 
 and privilege. If they fail there must always be a gulf 
 between them and the children which nothing else can 
 bridge. Too often parents have not the slightest idea 
 how it should be done. It is as much their business to 
 find out as it is to feed and clothe their offspring. 
 It must be remembered, too, that it is not merely a 
 question of knowledge. Unless birth and love are 
 beautiful in their own eyes they cannot make them 
 appear beautiful to the young mind, which is keenly 
 sensitive to pretence and insincerity. The complexes 
 of the parents are " visited upon the children unto the 
 third and fourth generations." The only thing to do 
 is to get rid of the complex. 
 
 The question as to whether definite sexual instruction 
 should be given in schools is a very difficult one. But 
 one thing we hold most strongly. We can never regard 
 it as a satisfactory state of affairs if such instruction is 
 regarded as a substitute for parental. But so many 
 parents are so hopelessly incompetent or negligent, or 
 both, that it seems almost a necessity to look outside 
 the home for any immediate solution of the problem. 
 On the other hand it is necessary to ask whether school 
 
PSYCHO-ANALYSIS AND EDUCATION 153 
 
 teachers as a body are qualified to carry out this delicate 
 piece of work. Again we repeat, it is not merely a 
 question of knowledge. It is a question of attitude 
 and personal fitness. The subject must not be made to 
 appear funny to the scholars, as in a case we recently 
 heard of, nor should it be made to appear a shameful 
 thing. No teacher should be compelled to teach it, 
 feeling that it is a distasteful duty that must be got 
 through somehow. The solution that appears most 
 satisfactory to us is the institution by educational 
 authorities of travelling lectureships in " Physical and 
 Mental Hygiene." For this purpose teachers should be 
 most carefully selected and thoroughly trained in the 
 physiology and psychology of sex, as well as in the 
 general principles of hygiene. They should visit the 
 various schools in their district, not to give lessons on 
 this one topic, but they should treat it in its natural 
 place in a course of lessons on " The Care of the Body 
 and the Mind." The lessons should be given to boys 
 and girls separately by members of their own sex. 
 If this were thoroughly and wisely carried out we believe 
 it would be a great national gain. 
 
 But individual difficulties are likely to arise at 
 puberty when the child needs a wise and intimate 
 friend. The parents should be ready to fill that need. 
 
 Finally, instruction in these subjects forms but a 
 small part of true sexual education, if it is true that sex 
 covers the wide field that psycho-analysis has ascribed 
 to it. There is the still larger task of sublimation. We 
 must now consider this question in more detail. 
 
 5. SUBLIMATION 
 
 Dr. Ernest Jones has given this subject fairly full 
 consideration in Chapters XXXV and XXXVII of his 
 " Papers on Psycho-analysis/ ' He defines sublimation 
 
154 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 
 
 in the words of Freud as " the capacity to exchange an 
 originally sexual aim for another one which is no longer 
 sexual, though it is psychically related." He then 
 distinguishes four characteristics of true sublimation. 
 In the first place, using our own terminology, it is not 
 the substitution of one tendency for another, but 
 rather the directing of the original tendency towards 
 another, and, more satisfactory end, for instance the 
 childish desire to exhibit the body is sublimated into 
 the exhibition of prowess in work or in games. Secondly, 
 the process is mainly an unconscious one. It may 
 sometimes be initiated deliberately, but unless the new 
 goal eventually becomes capable of arousing spontaneous 
 interest there is no real sublimation. The third fact that 
 he points out is that this process takes place chiefly in 
 childhood. Hence it is of especial importance to the 
 educator. Finally, he reminds the reader that it is not 
 sexual interest in the narrower sense of the term, but 
 that complex of tendencies with its variety of objects 
 and aims as described in the last section of Chapter IV 
 of this book. 
 
 In Chapter XXXVII he considers the factors on which 
 the process depends. There are three : the strength 
 of the original impulse, the force of the repressing 
 activity, and the opportunities provided by the environ- 
 ment for a transition on to suitable objects. With 
 regard to each of these factors there are two things at 
 any rate that we need to know. What is the effect 
 of each and how far is it accessible to control ? If the 
 impulse is too strong it will seek its primitive gratifica- 
 tion in spite of every obstacle and every effort at 
 sublimation. All that can be done is to avoid 
 stimulating it as far as possible. If, for instance, the 
 emotional reaction to one or other of the parents is 
 excessive, the parent should seek to avoid as far as 
 possible arousing that emotion. If this policy is con- 
 sistently followed and not too much pressure is exerted 
 to bring about the desired change, then the impulse may 
 
PSYCHO-ANALYSIS AND EDUCATION 155 
 
 be eventually sufficiently weakened to permit of satis- 
 factory sublimation. The danger in such cases is that 
 a parent, keenly interested in the welfare of the child, 
 may be inclined to be over-anxious to expedite the 
 process. All too often the child's display of emotion, 
 of affection, hostility, or whatever it may be, calls out 
 a strong emotional response in the parent which only 
 serves to strengthen the impulse. Quietness and 
 patience are more needed. Sublimation must have its 
 own time. With the second factor, that of repression, 
 the greater part of this book has been concerned. If 
 it is too strong it may bring about nervous disorders, 
 or at any rate compromise or reaction formations, which 
 involve a considerable waste of energy in directions 
 that are unprofitable to the individual or society. Thus 
 repressed exhibitionism may lead to excessive shyness 
 or bashfulness, repressed love leads to hate. This 
 factor, however, is far more within the control of the 
 educator. He can regulate and graduate to a very 
 considerable extent the demands that are made upon 
 the child. This must be governed by a consideration 
 of the individual case, for ordinary observation reveals 
 the fact that one child may be more repressed by a word 
 than another is by a blow. The demands that are made 
 upon the child should be so adjusted that they constitute 
 a challenge to his powers, a challenge that he will 
 soon learn to find a j oy in meeting. It follows, therefore, 
 that the method which seeks to put every child through 
 the same stereotyped process must prove unsatis- 
 factory. And this is equally true of the third factor, 
 the provision of suitable opportunities for the redirect- 
 ing of primitive tendencies. If we take two children in 
 whom the impulse of curiosity is strong, in the one case 
 the impulse may be complicated with other tendencies 
 which lead him to find his greatest satisfaction in prying 
 into the secrets of mechanical constructions, while 
 in the other exploring expeditions may provide a more 
 satisfactory outlet for his energies. While it is possible 
 
156 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 
 
 that our schools might be so organized as to give a 
 greater variety of opportunities for sublimation, it is 
 evident that they can never be expected to meet fully 
 such a tremendous demand. There will always be a 
 need for the intelligent co-operation of parents and 
 voluntary agencies of divers kinds, such as Boy Scouts, 
 Girl Guides, Boys' and Girls' Clubs, etc. The difficulty 
 here is that such agencies are too often at the mercy of 
 unenlightened enthusiasm. In the case of the Scout 
 and Guide movement, this difficulty is largely obviated 
 by its organization and methods. 
 
 In connexion with this positive aspect, we must 
 emphasize the concluding phrase of the definition of 
 sublimation. The secondary object must be 
 " psychically related " to the primary object of the 
 impulse. If the connexion is too slight then the 
 transition will be rendered too difficult or perhaps 
 impossible. If the associations are too close, then the 
 new object is apt to serve as a reminder of the old one, 
 instead of being a way of escape from it. But the most 
 the educator can do in this respect is to provide as large 
 a variety of " occupation " as is possible, and let the 
 child discover his own metier. If this process does not 
 develop satisfactorily he should endeavour to discover 
 the cause and apply the suitable remedy. Further, 
 he should endeavour to show how the child's particular 
 interest is linked up with others, so that they may gain 
 an attraction which they fail to exert on their own 
 account. The boy who is interested in machinery will 
 of course, learn that this means he must acquire skill 
 with his pencil and in mathematical calculation, etc. 
 
 But when all has been said it is easier to find out by 
 analysis why a certain course in sublimation has been 
 taken than to predict beforehand what is the most 
 likely or the best course for any particular individual. 
 We must leave him to work out his own sublimations 
 as much as possible, or we shall be in danger of 
 perpetuating the state of dependence which it should 
 
PSYCHO-ANALYSIS AND EDUCATION 157 
 
 be our aim to overcome. We may sum up briefly, then, 
 the rules that should guide us in this work. Begin 
 early. Avoid as far as possible stimulating impulses 
 that are unusually strong. Do not force the pace. 
 Give the child as wide a range of choice as circumstances 
 will allow. Remember that all children have not the 
 same capacity for sublimation. 
 
 When this work is satisfactorily accomplished the 
 individual devotes his undivided energies to a worthy 
 " life's task." He does not waste his strength in useless 
 day-dreams, or stand wavering and irresolute before 
 life's demands ; he is not enervated by sentimentality, 
 nor are his powers frittered away in petty personal 
 resentments ; he is neither obsequious nor overbearing, 
 but in fellowship with all free men he marches steadily 
 forward towards the goal of his heart's desire. 
 
CHAPTER VIII 
 SOCIETY AND RELIGION 
 
 WE have seen that psycho-analysis is firstly a 
 special psychological technique and secondly a 
 psychological theory. It will be obvious that 
 the technique cannot be applied to a community. We 
 cannot submit a Trades Union or a Church to the process 
 of free-association, though a great deal could probably 
 be learned of the unconscious impulses which provide 
 no small part of the dynamic of these social activities, 
 if the method could be applied to a sufficient number of 
 their members, especially to the leading spirits of these 
 movements. Whether this is possible on a sufficiently 
 wide scale, the future alone will reveal. The obstacles 
 to such an inquiry are enormous and obvious. There 
 is no need to dwell on them. On the other hand, the 
 insight that has been obtained already into the working 
 of the unconscious processes of the individual, may 
 reasonably be expected to afford great help to our under- 
 standing of the genesis and development of social 
 activities. A beginning in this direction has already 
 been made. As examples we may mention Freud's 
 " Totem and Taboo " in which he endeavours to lay 
 bare the mental processes underlying these strange and 
 widespread primitive institutions, and the recently 
 published " Psycho-analysis and Sociology " in which 
 Aurel Kolnai has attempted to discover the hidden 
 springs of present-day Anarchist Communism. But the 
 work has only just begun and it would be a great mistake, 
 in our opinion, either to accept the results of such investi- 
 gations as finally established truth, or to disregard them 
 
 158 
 
SOCIETY AND RELIGION 159 
 
 as worthless generalizations based on insufficient evi- 
 dence. Similar work is being done for religious phenom- 
 ena by such men as Pfister, Silberer, Reik, Flournoy and 
 Morel. The aim of these investigators is to discover the 
 hidden psychical springs of social and religious activity. 
 But the services of psycho-analysis are not exhausted in 
 such investigations. It has its contributions to make to 
 social and religious philosophy. It not only helps us to 
 understand what has been, and what is, but it cannot be 
 ignored when we are considering the question of what 
 ought to be. It is from this standpoint that we shall 
 consider its value in these departments of human 
 interest. What is the nature of the society, and what 
 is the nature of the religion which will do justice to the 
 ascertained facts of man's unconscious nature ? 
 
 First of all let us recognize that there are no questions 
 of human interest that have suffered more at the hands 
 of the amateur and the one-sided specialist than the two 
 with which we are at present concerned. " The man in 
 the street," and the " man in the study," the physicist 
 and physiologist, the geographer and economist, the 
 biologist and psychologist, have all at different times 
 attempted to settle these questions from their own exclu- 
 sive points of view. The psycho-analyst in facing these 
 problems will do well to be warned by such attempts, 
 and avoid the temptation to regard social activity as 
 merely the functioning of a great unconscious. Society 
 is not to be explained by metaphors and analogies. It 
 is something unique and sui generis. It is neither 
 mechanism, organism nor mind, but it is an interaction 
 of minds in and through an environment, and these 
 minds are both conscious and unconscious. All the 
 psycho-analyst can legitimately do is to present the 
 ascertained facts of man's unconscious nature to the 
 social philosopher and leave him to take these into 
 account together with other psychological data, as well 
 as the relevant physical, economic, and biological facts 
 when he is constructing his social theory. If we bear 
 
160 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 
 
 this clearly in mind we may safely venture outside the 
 strictly defined analytical province and indulge in social 
 speculation which we must leave the social philosopher 
 to evaluate and assimilate as best he can. 
 
 In a similar way he may consider the bearing of this 
 theory on religious problems, leaving the final synthesis 
 to the philosopher of religion. If the reader feels that 
 this attitude is somewhat vague and evasive, let it be 
 remembered how much wasted effort and disillusion- 
 ment have been due to over hasty, dogmatic generaliza- 
 tions. We are always striving for finality in thought 
 and security in religion, but the best we can attain is 
 fertility and salvation. May it not be, that after all, 
 these are the greater things ? At any rate it is for 
 this attitude that we venture to ask the reader's 
 sympathy. 
 
 I. THE SOCIAL IDEAL 
 
 The first question we shall venture to consider from 
 this standpoint is the nature of an ideal society. The 
 answer of psycho-analysis is : a society that is free 
 from neuroticism, a community, the behaviour of whose 
 members is guided by the reality principle and not 
 dominated by the pleasure-pain principle. But it may 
 be objected that many of our greatest poets and artists 
 have been neurotics. Are we to sacrifice the possibilities 
 of art and literature to the dream of a peaceful but 
 mediocre society ? To this it may be replied that a 
 number of artists have been analysed with no discern- 
 ible trace of deteriorating effect upon their work, and 
 that what art would lose in passion and tragic power, it 
 would probably more than make up in serenity and joy. 
 At any rate, a neurotic society is a tremendous price 
 to pay for the poet and the artist. 
 
 If we accept this aim — the elimination of the neurotic 
 element from the community — as, at any rate, a possible 
 
SOCIETY AND RELIGION 161 
 
 goal, what does it demand in the social constitution ? 
 What can be done in the way of prevention, and what is 
 necessary for cure ? 
 
 We have seen already that according to psycho- 
 analysis the chief incubator for nervous disorders is the 
 home, 1 that the most important factor in the home is, 
 usually, the mother, then the father and the rest of the 
 family. From our point of view the supreme concern 
 of the society is to produce psychically healthy parents, 
 and, above all, mothers who are mentally sound. Fret- 
 ful, worrying, nagging, obstinate, harsh or over-indul- 
 gent parents cannot but exercise a baneful influence 
 upon their children. Must we then abolish family life ? 
 No doubt there are many cases where that is the only 
 remedy. Parents who are totally incapable of exercis- 
 ing the parental functions should have their children 
 taken away. As examples, we may mention alcoholic, 
 immoral and brutal parents. But when all is said, 
 there is no institution so good as a good home. Especi- 
 ally in the earlier years is it important. The best nurse 
 and the wisest teacher are never able to make up for 
 the lack of a good father and mother. 
 
 How then, shall society tackle the problem of improving 
 itself in this respect ? No doubt if psycho-analysis 
 fulfils the hopes of its early apostles a great deal will be 
 done through sound psychological treatment. But this 
 will not be sufficient of itself. A readjustment of social 
 relations and a reorganization of social activities are 
 imperative. And in so far as the psychological treat- 
 ment is effective it will hasten the time when these 
 changes will be inevitable. The problem seems capable 
 of being attacked from two directions, either by 
 individual psychological treatment or by social re- 
 adjustment. The most desirable course is that both 
 methods should be used. The question for us here is — 
 
 1 We are leaving out of consideration here the difficult eugenic 
 problem of the need or desirability of the elimination of those 
 strains which produce the " neurotic egg." 
 II 
 
162 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 
 
 what is the nature of the social readjustment which is 
 necessary to enable parents to exercise a healthy, 
 spiritual influence over their children ? 
 
 In Chapter IV we saw that there are three factors at 
 work according to Freud in every neurosis, congenital 
 endowment, failure to sublimate sexual impulses, and 
 current conflict. With regard to the first factor all 
 we shall say is, that only in the worst cases should 
 measures be adopted to prevent the perpetuation of the 
 stirps in which such defects are found. As long as the 
 individual is capable of taking his place in society and 
 does not need to be restrained it is rather to psycholo- 
 gical treatment we should look than to measures of 
 prohibition and prevention. The problem of the ment- 
 ally defective is, of course, quite different. 
 
 With reference to the second factor it will be remem- 
 bered that sublimation takes place chiefly in childhood 
 and that the main determinant outside of the child mind 
 itself is the parent. We must begin with the neurotic- 
 ally inclined parent. The most satisfactory thing to do 
 would be to resolve those fundamental conflicts which 
 are the ultimate cause of the trouble. But something 
 may be done to reduce the occasions of current conflict 
 which are often the preliminary skirmishes before the 
 bigger battle. It is here that social readjustment may 
 be most helpful. If this appears to be demanding a 
 very drastic remedy to secure only a relatively superficial 
 improvement it should be remembered that if the 
 neurotic element is ever eradicated from society, these 
 social changes are bound to come in the end, for strange 
 as it may seem, both the stability and the instability 
 of the present social order are dependent in no small 
 measure upon neurotic transferences. If there is any 
 reliability to be placed upon the findings of psycho- 
 analysis then both the docility and the intractability 
 of the employee are " transferences " of the different 
 father-attitudes to the employer or capitalist. In the 
 same way the benevolent paternalism or stern despotism 
 
SOCIETY AND RELIGION 163 
 
 of the employer is explained as an identification with 
 similar father-images. "Ina study of social unrest we 
 shall find that the conduct of the labouring classes 
 possesses in periods of unrest all the characteristics of 
 that of an individual revolting under the influence of a 
 repressed complex, all the quality of the behaviour of 
 a neurotic son of a stern, unbending father. The atti- 
 tude of the employer towards labour is also frequently 
 the result of a pathological reaction due to subconscious 
 fear." 1 From the standpoint of living the full life 
 of a man, the labourer is just as right in his objection to 
 well-meant paternalism as to over-bearing despotism. 
 He has as much right to object to being bathed and taken 
 out to play as to being told how he must vote at an elec- 
 tion. Psycho-analysis emphasizes the fundamental 
 right of a man to be treated as a man, and the equally 
 fundamental duty of every man to be, not a slave, a 
 fawner, a rebel, a demi-god, a wet-nurse, but a man. 
 Why should a labourer who is making a contract to sell 
 his labour be treated differently from a proprietor who is 
 contracting to sell his land ? The answer that the 
 labourer would not understand civil treatment or would 
 take advantage of it, if true, only confirms the conten- 
 tion with regard to him, and if untrue, proves our thesis 
 with respect to the employer. For ourselves we believe 
 the evidence points unmistakably to the conclusion that 
 capitalist and employer are as much the victims of 
 unconscious mechanism as those they employ. The 
 conclusion of our argument is this — that when the slave 
 or rebel through some transformation becomes a man, 
 he will expect and demand to be treated as a man. 
 Social relations will have to be adjusted to that claim. 
 We can hasten that transformation by the gradual 
 adjustment of the present relations to that anticipated 
 demand. The first principle of our ideal society then 
 is this. Treat every man with respect till he makes it 
 
 1 Frank Watts. " Psychological Problems of Industry." 
 1921. Allen & Unwin. 
 
164 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 
 
 an impossibility. 1 Treat no man with anything more 
 than respect till he becomes something more than man. 8 
 This does not mean, of course, that the judgment of 
 an expert in his own department should be valued at 
 the same level as that of a mere smatterer. But it 
 does mean that because a man is versed in the intricacies 
 of high finance he has not thereby a right to expect any 
 other man to play the part of " flunky." It is the failure 
 to act on this first principle that perpetuates and aggra- 
 vates in society the complexes that originated in the 
 home. 
 
 The second principle of reconstruction is still more 
 directly concerned with the third factor of the neurosis 
 — the current conflict. It is this. Every man should 
 have the opportunity to be a man. At present he is 
 frequently little more than a cog in a wheel, a machine 
 minder, a barrow pusher, a sledge swinger. The work 
 in which the greater part of his working moments is 
 occupied gives little or no scope for the satisfaction of 
 that wonderful complex of instincts and impulses with 
 which he is endowed. He is spiritually starved. Is it 
 any wonder that he becomes a hungry rebel or a spirit- 
 less slave, or takes to drink as his only hope ? The 
 only interest he has in his work is the economic interest. 
 The rest all too often is dull, dreary drudgery. Is it 
 not hopeless to expect a man working under such con- 
 ditions to manifest an altruism and a far-sighted 
 concern for the welfare of the community which has 
 only considered him in so far as it has been compelled 
 by the force of his Trade Union ? The point we wish 
 to emphasize is this : that the economic issue which is 
 so much to the fore in the present day is, no doubt, a 
 real issue, it is almost the only conscious issue, but it is 
 not the only issue. The reason for its overwhelming 
 predominance is that industry has so evolved as to 
 
 1 The case of the " impossible " man is treated later. 
 
 2 Respect does not exclude the sentiment of " love," but only 
 its " sentimentality." 
 
SOCIETY AND RELIGION 165 
 
 repress in a vast number of cases every other interest, 
 and the discontent a man feels with the monotony of his 
 work is vented in a claim for higher wages. The claim 
 for a share on the part of the worker in the control of the 
 industry is apparently the war-cry of a few rather than 
 the demand of the many. And it is very probable that 
 this demand is largely motived by a desire to get a 
 bigger cash return for labour. In so far as it is inspired 
 by a genuine desire to humanize industry we are bound 
 to sympathize with it as an ideal even if we think it 
 impracticable as a programme. 1 And it is not only 
 of the workers that it is true that the economic interest 
 is almost the exclusive conscious issue, it is still more 
 true of the multitude of shareholders who are concerned 
 only with dividends. 
 
 When we take all the facts into consideration we shall 
 not be surprised at the case cited by Ordway Tead in 
 his " Instincts in Industry." " One successful depart- 
 ment store in a large Eastern city is in charge of a man 
 who is really admired by his employees. To this 
 manager, who really wants to run his store on genuinely 
 democratic lines, the subservience of the workers is a 
 constant source of irritation. He stands up in meetings 
 of the store employees and berates them soundly for 
 their lack of initiation and aggressiveness. The spec- 
 tacle of this gentleman belabouring the workers about 
 their reluctance to assume leadership and responsibility 
 is one to make the student of industrial democracy 
 ponder and inquire more deeply into the psychological 
 springs of action. Such a phenomenon, however, 
 presents no difficulties when we bear in mind the history 
 of the average working man and woman. From the 
 earliest days, curiosity and enterprise are repressed in the 
 home and the child's difficulties solved for him because 
 it is the quickest way out of the trouble ; the process of 
 repression is carried a step further by the discipline of 
 
 1 We do not say that it is impracticable. Only a fair and 
 prolonged trial can demonstrate this. 
 
166 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 
 
 the school, so that by the time a boy goes out to work it 
 is almost a miracle if he can think and plan for himself. 
 What we need is an educational and industrial system 
 which will give scope and stimulus for all the varied 
 impulses of man. It is doubtful whether modern in- 
 dustry as a whole can be organized in such a manner as 
 to provide this. Then its demands should be reduced 
 to an absolute and bare minimum that a man may be 
 able to find in some other activity the scope and inspira- 
 tion that his daily work denies. A possible alternative 
 might be the reorganization of society on the basis of 
 the " village community " as suggested by Plelding Hall 
 in his book called " The Way of Peace." No doubt 
 there are many difficulties in the way of such schemes. 
 We are not concerned here to advocate any particular 
 plan but to emphasize the necessity, not merely of a 
 man's right to work, but of a man's right to be a man. 
 If we cannot devise a social order which will provide this 
 opportunity, then it seems clear to us that our society is 
 doomed to neurotic disintegration. The history of the 
 last seven years should be sufficient to give even the most 
 sceptical pause ere he flings out the taunt, Cassandra ! 
 
 We cannot leave this question of the provision of 
 opportunity for every man to realize the full legitimate 
 satisfaction of his nature without special reference to 
 that system of impulses with which psycho-analysis is 
 specially concerned — the sexual. Side by side with the 
 trend of modern industry towards ever-increasing 
 division of labour with its consequent exclusive em- 
 phasis on the economic aspect, there has been a growing 
 tendency to postpone the marriage age. This most 
 powerful instinct is baulked of legitimate expression, 
 and, at the same time, its opportunities of sublimation 
 have been drastically curtailed by the stereotyping 
 of human activity. The consequences are all but 
 inevitable, — deep-seated unrest and wide-spread im- 
 morality. There are three possibilities with regard to 
 this instinct, — direct indulgence, sublimated satisfaction 
 
SOCIETY AND RELIGION 167 
 
 and repression. If the possibilities of sublimation are 
 practically non-existent, then there is nothing left but 
 the choice between two evils. We do not wish to 
 convey the impression that we regard marriage merely 
 as legalized indulgence of crude passion, but there can be 
 no doubt that it tends to become that, in so far as men 
 and women are denied the opportunities of living a full 
 and varied life. Just as society, by the course of develop- 
 ment it has followed, has made money the supreme 
 concern of industry, and mere pleasure the main demand 
 in recreation, so it tends to make love very little more 
 than lust. It is quite possible that the postponement 
 of marriage would have meant, as in many cases it has 
 meant, a spiritual enrichment of human life, if there 
 had been a widening of the scope of creative activity. 
 Mere mechanical routine cannot provide channels for 
 sublimation. There must be scope for individual self- 
 expression, a self-expression that is not mere eccen- 
 tricity, but a joyous contribution towards the fellowship 
 of the community. The work of the individual must 
 bear the indelible mark of individuality, but it must 
 have more than that, or it is a mere miser's hoard. 
 There must be the feeling that it is mine, yet not mine. 
 Whether it is possible to organize society so that the 
 individual may find room for such creative activity, is 
 another question. At any rate it will be impossible as 
 long as the merely economic issue is allowed to dominate 
 the situation. 
 
 The third principle of reconstruction is that every 
 parent should be a parent and not merely an instrument 
 of reproduction. It is true that most parents also 
 provide food and shelter for their children. But if it is 
 true that the influence of parent upon child is as powerful 
 as it appears, then we are very largely wasting or mis- 
 using an enormous power for the shaping of our 
 social destinies. It is evident that before a father can 
 be a real father he must be a real man, not merely the 
 baulked possibility of one. But it should also be evident 
 
168 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 
 
 that he cannot exercise his functions in absentia. We 
 have cursed the evils of the " absentee landlord," 
 occasionally, we have lamented the evils of the " ab- 
 sentee mother," but apparently the absence of the father 
 does not matter or is regarded as a final inevitability. 
 It is, of course, inevitable in the majority of cases, under 
 present conditions, and possibly in view of the fact 
 that so often life has narrowly circumscribed his interests 
 it does not, as things are, greatly matter. It may be 
 arguable that his absence is even desirable, for his role in 
 too many families is that of arch-represser. But in so 
 far as these things are true it constitutes a terrible 
 indictment of our society. What is needed is not merely 
 more idle, leisure time, in which the father can nurse the 
 baby or romp with the older children, but new activities 
 in which the children can take an interest and an active 
 share. A larger life, and a life in which the children can 
 play their part, is absolutely necessary if the functions 
 of the father are to be satisfactorily fulfilled. And if 
 this is true with respect to the father, it is not less true 
 with respect to the mother. How can we expect a 
 woman absorbed all day long with the routine of house- 
 hold duties, and obsessed with household cares to 
 exercise a healthy influence on her children. The 
 bickering, nagging, quarrelling of family life are all 
 symptoms of neurotic tendencies. For the most part 
 we try to shut our eyes to it and indulge in compensatory 
 phantasies of happy, home life, or else we regard it as 
 inevitable, and get away to the club as quickly as 
 possible. But the average housewife has no such 
 escape. She must submit and endure. It is an absolute 
 necessity that the mothers of our country should have 
 the opportunity of a wider life. We have put this 
 requirement last, but in any programme of reconstruction 
 there is no doubt that it should come first. 
 
 In conclusion, we would remind the reader that the 
 foregoing suggestions are merely what appear to us the 
 obvious corollaries of the facts that psycho-analysis has 
 
SOCIETY AND RELIGION 169 
 
 revealed. They are submitted for criticism. If any- 
 thing survives, that residue must be taken into account 
 with all the other facts that concern the problem of 
 human society. The principles we have enumerated are 
 these. We must begin with the home. Every man 
 should be a man and be treated as a man. Every man 
 should have the opportunities of being a man. 
 Every parent should have the opportunities of 
 exercising the full functions of a parent. Before 
 such principles are described as visionary and 
 incapable of practical application, let the accuser 
 be sure that he is free from unconscious bias, and 
 that "inner resistance" which "doth so easily beset 
 us." If the changes that are involved appear 
 revolutionary, let it not be thought that we are 
 advocating revolution. Revolution is but another 
 neurotic symptom. The need is for steady, rational 
 advance. 
 
 2. SOCIAL MISFITS 
 
 We have very briefly considered what is demanded by 
 the nature of man's unconscious tendencies in an ideal 
 society, and we have laid down the principle that every 
 man should be treated as a man as long as that is 
 possible. The question we must now consider is — what 
 should be done when this stage is reached ? We will 
 consider two instances, which will illustrate, as it seems 
 to us, the attitude in which psycho-analysis indicates 
 that this question should be faced — the problem of the 
 unemployed and the problem of the criminal. 
 
 With regard to the latter it will be readily, all too 
 readily recognized, that he cannot be treated as a man. 
 He is a menace to society, and must be punished, or at 
 least restrained. With regard to the former, it will, 
 perhaps, be indignantly denied that it is as impossible 
 to treat the unemployed as a man. We are not con- 
 
170 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 
 
 cerned to argue about the abstract question of possibili- 
 ties in this connexion. The fact is that he is not usually 
 so regarded. In times of good trade he is regarded with 
 suspicion. He would not be out of work it is thought, 
 if there were not some deficiency of character, ability, 
 or physique. In times of bad trade he is regarded 
 probably with some measure of pity as the victim of 
 misfortune. But neither suspicion nor pity have any 
 place in that respect to which a normal man is 
 entitled. The fact is that the unemployed is not a 
 normal man, he is only the potentiality of a man. We 
 may abandon him and let him die, we may feed him and 
 turn him into a parasite, or we may provide work for 
 him and an opportunity to achieve his rightful status. 
 But as long as he is ignored, pampered or pitied, he is 
 denied, rightly or wrongly, the regard which is the sine 
 qua non of full manhood. 
 
 The problem of " unemployment " is exceedingly 
 complicated, and all that we may be expected to do is to 
 point out some of the factors of human nature that must 
 be taken into consideration in any attempted solution. 
 First of all, we would issue a warning against the 
 tendency of interested parties to enunciate economic laws 
 as though they were divine fiats which require nothing 
 but unquestioning obedience. There can be little 
 doubt that all too often this talk about " economic 
 law " is merely a rationalization to cover up the ugly 
 motives of greed and suspicion. We need to inquire 
 with strict impartiality as to the truth of the accusation 
 that " economics " is being exploited in the interests 
 of a capitalist class, and we need to recognize that if 
 this evil does exist, it is not to be corrected by a mere 
 change of the class. " Class consciousness " is a social 
 neurosis. It can never be the basis of a stable social 
 order. It is the product of repression, of an inferiority 
 complex. It is a denial of the fundamental principle 
 that a man shall be treated as a man. At the same 
 time we must bear in mind that it is little more than a 
 
SOCIETY AND RELIGION 171 
 
 waste of breath to condemn " class consciousness," we 
 must strive to understand the conditions that have 
 produced it, and remove the repressions in the home and 
 in the community which lie at its root. We must 
 remember, too, that it is not a monopoly of one section 
 of the community. There is more than one " class." 
 
 Here, as in the case of individual mental disorders, 
 the prime need is for insight, but here as there, that 
 insight is often but superficial because of the resistance 
 of dynamic unconscious factors. Greed, fear, and 
 mental inertia, prevent us from seeing the truth. At 
 the present moment we are confronted with this situa- 
 tion. There is a great need for food, clothes and houses, 
 and yet there are hundreds of thousands of people doing 
 nothing. Why ? We cannot put the blame on nature 
 in spite of the fact that there has been a certain amount 
 of drought. We are bound to recognize that the main 
 fault belongs to human nature. If it were true that 
 nature had failed, then that is all the more reason why 
 we should be diligent in trying to compensate for it. 
 The facts seem clear, that it is either that these unem- 
 ployed are not being allowed to work, they are being 
 refused access to the land, or hampered by trade regula- 
 tions, or they are incapable of adapting themselves to 
 doing such work as is needed. We need to recognize 
 that the " land question " is not merely an economic 
 question, it is a psychological question too. The motives 
 that lead men to acquire land and cling to it, land that 
 they cannot use themselves, land from which they 
 possibly derive relatively little profit, need to be 
 examined. It will probably be found that " land 
 hunger " is in many cases as pathological as sabotage. 
 If the first principle which we have laid down is sound, 
 benevolent administration is not a sufficient justification 
 for great accumulations of wealth in land or any other 
 form. Benevolence, that perpetuates the feeling of 
 inferiority and dependence in its objects, is not a virtue 
 but a vice. But there is not only a psychological 
 
172 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 
 
 difficulty in getting access to the raw material of labour, 
 there is a psychological difficulty in adapting the avail- 
 able labour, to the tasks that are waiting to be done. 
 Food is needed, but the dock labourer will not, or 
 cannot put his hand to the plough, and the city clerk 
 will not, or cannot turn herdsman even supposing he 
 got the chance. There is a lack of adaptability which 
 goes deeper than the mere question of vocational train- 
 ing. The problem of individual lack of adaptability is 
 further complicated by the rigidity of socially organized 
 interests. We need houses, but more energy has been 
 spent and wasted in discussing the problem of " dilution" 
 than has been put into actual building. There can be 
 no doubt that Trades Unions are an obstacle in some 
 ways to industrial adaptation. We are not condemning 
 Trades Unions. They are symptoms of a social neurosis, 
 defence-mechanisms brought about by industrial repres- 
 sion. The doctor does not waste breath in condemning 
 symptoms, but looks for the cause. 
 
 There are then two psychological requirements 
 which must be satisfied before we can hope for any 
 permanent settlement of unemployment. First we 
 must cease to regard the wealthy man as something 
 more than man, and we must cease to regard the poor 
 man as something less than man. A tendency towards 
 a more just distribution would soon make itself felt. 
 Secondly we must see that our school education and 
 industrial training develop adaptability, so that labour 
 can adapt itself to human need. It should be clearly 
 understood that it is not maintained that this is all that 
 is necessary for^a solution of the problem. It is not 
 even contended that such an ideal is fully attainable. 
 All that we can infer, from such evidence as psycho- 
 analysis affords, is that no solution will be entirely 
 satisfactory that excludes these elements. 
 
 Many other problems besides that of " unemploy- 
 ment " are clamouring for an answer. It is not possible 
 here even to mention them. We will refer to one other 
 
SOCIETY AND RELIGION 173 
 
 only, as an illustration of the bearing of our study upon 
 social life, the problem of the criminal. It is no exag- 
 geration to say, that until comparatively recent years 
 the policy of society towards the criminal was dictated 
 mainly by mingled hate and fear. Retribution and 
 prevention through fear, were the dominating ideas. 
 But as L. T. Hobhouse in his " Morals in Evolution," 
 says, " The criminal, too, has his rights — the right to 
 be punished, but so punished that he may be helped in 
 the path of reform." But even though these rights be 
 denied, even if it is asserted that the criminal has out- 
 lawed himself from society, which alone confers rights, 
 even if we ignore the part and responsibility of society 
 in producing the criminal and bluntly assert that it is 
 the first concern of society to maintain its own physical, 
 mental and moral integrity, even then we may well 
 inquire whether our methods are the best possible for 
 securing this end. It is true that during the last half 
 century there has been a very gratifying and large 
 decrease in the amount of imprisonment and consider- 
 able improvement in the methods of treating prisoners, 
 but still we have to recognize that in a great number, 
 if not in the vast majority of cases, the effect is either 
 to harden the offender or to break his spirit. Is this 
 necessary ? 
 
 The whole problem has two main issues — prevention 
 and cure. But with regard to both issues our attitude 
 should be the same — first and foremost, a determination 
 to get at the facts. Modern medicine has abandoned 
 the method of prescribing without diagnosis, and it is 
 not content with removing symptoms and pains, it seeks 
 to abolish the cause of these troubles. This must be 
 our attitude. We spend a great deal of money and 
 time and brains in repressing crime. Our strongest men 
 are made policemen, our cleverest men are made lawyers 
 and judges. But would it not be a wise and desirable 
 thing to devote more of this wealth and wisdom to the 
 task of discovering what are the factors that produce 
 
174 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 
 
 the criminal, and what is the best way to eliminate 
 them. At present our almost sole concern is to prove 
 that a certain offence has been committed by a certain 
 person. The treatment of the offender is then pres- 
 cribed more or less rigidly by a law that utterly ignores 
 the personality of the wrong-doer. What latitude of 
 prescription is allowed, is in the hands of a magistrate 
 who is usually appointed on the grounds of his social, 
 municipal or political standing, or by a judge because 
 of his acquaintance with the intricacies of modern law. 
 Insight into human nature is not regarded as necessary, 
 and where it happens to be possessed its exercise is 
 narrowly circumscribed by the enactments of the law. 
 In the case of young and first offenders this state of 
 things has been to some extent remedied. More care 
 has been exercised in the appointment of suitable 
 magistrates and more latitude is allowed in treatment. 
 But the objection to this course is that it leaves too 
 much to the intuition of the individual. We are not 
 prepared as a rule to submit our serious bodily ailments 
 to the untutored intuitions of the amateur. Is it not 
 reasonable, therefore, that we should demand that in 
 dealing with social evils, intuition should be grounded in 
 experience and training ? Our magistrates and judges 
 should be required to have a certain amount of training 
 in sociology and psychology and have experts in these 
 subjects to give advice whenever needed. It should 
 be their aim in dealing with any particular case, not 
 merely to consider whether the prisoner is guilty, but 
 how far it is possible to rectify the defective character 
 that is responsible for the offence. There is no doubt 
 that in this connexion, psycho-analysis could render 
 valuable service especially with the young miscreants. 
 
 But still more important is the problem of discovering 
 the conditions that produce defective characters. A 
 careful and thorough investigation of the subject on a 
 wider scale than has yet been attempted is necessary. 
 The problem may be considered from many points of 
 
SOCIETY AND RELIGION 175 
 
 view, such as the biological, taking into account heredity 
 and environment, or the economical taking into account 
 the factor of wealth, or the physiological which con- 
 siders the effect of bodily functions, but ultimately the 
 question must become a psychological one because it is 
 only as these factors work through the mind that they 
 can affect character. But psycho-analysis suggests that 
 the most fruitful method of inquiry will be through the 
 careful study of the individual. Mass statistics may be 
 useful, but they will be very misleading if they are not 
 interpreted in the light of wide experience with the real 
 man. What we need to discover is the relevant factors 
 and these can only be found in the careful study of the 
 body and mind of the individual. It is obvious, for 
 instance, that the effect of wealth or poverty is by no 
 means constant. In the same way, measures of pre- 
 vention, which rely upon the stimulation of fear, are 
 very variable in their results. What would crush one 
 individual, only rouses the fighting spirit of another. 
 A month's hard labour may stain one man's life with 
 indelible disgrace, it may render another a hero in his 
 own eyes and those of his associates. These are facts 
 obvious in our ordinary experience, but the law takes 
 very little cognizance of them. It cannot. We cannot 
 legislate for individuals. When we come to the deeper 
 unconscious impulses and their effects in the production 
 of crime, we are still further from doing justice to the 
 complexities of human nature. Here we can only look 
 to the fuller development of psychological science to 
 help us. It is not much use punishing an individual for 
 acts that are due to unconscious compulsion. It is 
 neither just nor wise. 
 
 The problem is exceedingly complex. But we 
 suggest that if the attitude towards the delinquent were 
 less judicial and more remedial, this in itself would have 
 its preventive value. It would lessen the hypnotic 
 effects of fear which impels some natures to do the for- 
 bidden thing, and it would take away the romance of 
 
176 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 
 
 being a swashbuckling villain from another type, if he 
 were regarded not as a rebel, but as a sick man. Doubt- 
 less there would be some attempts at malingering and 
 pretence, but this is fairly easy for the skilled and 
 practised expert to expose. The procedure then, 
 which in the light of our present knowledge seems most 
 desirable, would be something after this fashion. Where 
 there was any possible doubt or denial that a particular 
 offence had been committed by the person charged, the 
 evidence should be examined in the usual way by a 
 judicial court, and if the charge were proved, the offender 
 should be handed over for expert physical and mental 
 examination, to discover to what extent the action was 
 due to physiological factors or mental complexes. If 
 such conditions were revealed and the expert were satis- 
 fied that remedial measures were possible, then the 
 option should be given to the offender to submit to these 
 or return for sentence to the judicial court. Where 
 no definite judgment could be formed as to the possibili- 
 ties of remedial efforts, a report with recommendations 
 for treatment should be sent back with the offender to 
 the president of the judicial court, whose business it 
 should be to take into consideration in passing judgment, 
 the interests of society, as well as the recommendations 
 of the expert. As for the expense involved, we believe 
 that the community would find that prevention is 
 cheaper than cure, and cure cheaper than punishment. 
 At any rate it would be worth while making experiments 
 in this direction especially in the children's courts. 
 In the case of the more serious offences, it would 
 obviously be necessary that such remedial measures 
 should be prescribed, as would not expose the com- 
 munity to the depredations of the unsocialized 
 individual. 
 
 In conclusion we would emphasize that we are not 
 concerned so much with the advocacy of specific reforms 
 as to appeal for a new attitude to the problem, an atti- 
 tude which would make judicial and moral judgment 
 
SOCIETY AND RELIGION 177 
 
 dependent upon sound psychological insight. And this 
 insight we believe is not to be obtained if the unconscious 
 factor is ignored. Hence the value of psycho-analysis 
 in dealing with this phase of human life. 
 
 3. THE RELIGIOUS IDEAL 
 
 If social philosophy is a realm of debate and wide 
 divergencies, religion is not less so, but perhaps more. 
 We cannot hope to avoid collision with some of the con- 
 tending interests. But we shall endeavour to approach 
 this question in the same way as we have dealt with the 
 problems of education and society. We shall accept 
 the religious spirit as a fact, and consider what guidance 
 psycho-analysis has to offer, leaving it to the religious 
 mind to criticize and assimilate as best it can. At the 
 same time we confess for ourselves a keen sympathy 
 with the late Dr. J. J. Putnam, of whom Jones says, 
 " He maintained that it was highly desirable, if not 
 absolutely essential, to widen the base of psycho- 
 analytical principles by incorporating into them certain 
 philosophical views especially concerning the relation- 
 ship of the individual to the community at large and to 
 the universe in general. For years he maintained a 
 steady correspondence with me on this question, and I 
 fear it was a genuine disappointment to him that his 
 views made so little impression on his psycho-analytical 
 colleagues." 1 We are prepared to go further than 
 this first statement about Putnam goes, and say that 
 no psycho-analyst, indeed no scientist of any kind can 
 proceed without assuming, wittingly or unwittingly, 
 critically or uncritically, some philosophical principles. 
 We admit that the findings of any science must not be 
 prejudiced by a priori considerations. Its method of 
 procedure may be subjected to philosophic criticism, 
 
 1 Obituary by Dr. E. Jones in " Addresses on P. A.," by 
 J. J. Putnam, p. 463. 
 
 12 
 
178 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 
 
 but once it is accepted it must be left to make its own 
 discoveries, which philosophy must accept and synthesize 
 with its other data as far as it is able. But as it 
 appears to us, psycho-analysis is more than a scientific 
 procedure. It is that first of all if it has any justifica- 
 tion at all. But it is more. It is a therapeutic art. 
 If, as Jones repeatedly says, the neurosis is a form of 
 social maladaptation, it seems to us impossible for the 
 analyst to carry on his therapeutic efforts without having 
 some conception of what the relation of the individual 
 to the community ought to be. In holding such a con- 
 ception, he must transcend the limitations of an empirical 
 science. We believe there should be a healthy 
 interaction between science and philosophy. In the 
 present state of things we cannot expect to effect a 
 perfectly harmonious synthesis, but it is only by 
 attempting the synthesis that we can discover the 
 defects. To attempt to keep the two subjects in abso- 
 lute isolation, seems to indicate a dissociation and repres- 
 sion which we should have thought would have rendered 
 it suspect to every psycho-analyst. 
 
 Dr. Pfister in "The Psycho-Analytic Method," to 
 which Freud has contributed an introduction says, 
 " Psycho-analysis in no way violates the claims of the 
 truth of the Christian religion as such. Of course, as 
 already noticed, it destroys many spurious religious 
 experiences by showing the illusory complex-function 
 at the bottom of these. It must do this in order to 
 banish misfortune. It would be all too small for 
 Christianity to think that harm is to be feared for its 
 future from analysis. . . . Psycho-analysis also teaches 
 us to estimate the value of religion anew. I confess 
 that the beauty and the blessing of a healthy, ethically 
 pure piety have only become overwhelmingly clear to 
 me from the investigations here described. Religion, 
 in favourable cases, guards the libido repelled by the 
 rude, avaricious reality, against conversion into 
 hysterical, physical symptoms and against introversion 
 
SOCIETY AND RELIGION 179 
 
 into anxiety, melancholia, obsessional phenomena, etc." 1 
 Dr. Rivers in his John Rylands Lecture on " Medicine 
 and Religion " sees in the recent development of psycho- 
 logical medicine, of which psycho-analysis is the out 
 standing feature, a new possibility of co-operation 
 between these two old, but now separated, friends. 
 There are dangers, of course, that one should attempt to 
 tyrannize over the other. These must be carefully 
 watched. In a recent lecture by Dr. Hadfield on " The 
 Ethical Significance of the New Psychology " the writer 
 sat near a clergyman who whispered, as the exposition 
 proceeded, "It sounds like the seventh chapter of 
 Romans." This classical exposition of spiritual con- 
 flict is well known. But it is possible to trace resembl- 
 ances not so obvious as this outstanding one. Paul's 
 conception of the " flesh " has close affinities with 
 Freud's " libido," possibly more than with Jung's 
 conception of this " psychic energy." 2 To regard the 
 " flesh " as a physical thing, or merely physical thing, 
 is a misinterpretation. In the following chapter he 
 speaks of the " mind of the flesh." Sin is the outcome 
 of the " flesh " in conflict with the " law." In the final 
 synthesis or sublimation, conflict and repression are 
 done away. " There is therefore now no condemnation 
 to them that are in Christ Jesus." Pfister also quotes 
 Freud, Stekel and Jung on the place of religion as a factor 
 in healthy mental life. Freud refers to the " extraordin- 
 ary increase of neuroses since the decline of religion," 
 and Jung says " In a time, when a great part of humanity 
 is beginning to deny Christianity, it is well worth while 
 to perceive clearly why it has really been accepted. It 
 has been accepted to escape eventually the grossness of 
 antiquity. If we lay it aside, then the unbridled licence 
 is already at hand, of which life in modern large cities 
 gives us an impressive foretaste. The step thither is 
 not progress but a retrogression." It needs in our 
 
 1 Published by Kegan Paul, p. 412. 
 * See page 93 of this book. 
 
180 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 
 
 opinion, no strained exegesis to see that many of the 
 principles which we have endeavoured to expound in 
 the earlier pages of this book are exemplified in the 
 practice and method of Jesus as He is portrayed in the 
 Gospels. The Churches have emphasized the import- 
 ance of faith, but if the Gospels are carefully read, we 
 believe it will become clear that Jesus emphasized also 
 the importance of " insight." " Ye shall know the 
 truth and the truth shall make you free " is a statement 
 of the fourth Gospel, but it is reiterated in different 
 forms in the Synoptics. As it appears to us, the key to 
 at any rate one aspect of His teaching lies in the words 
 " It is given unto you to know the mysteries of the King- 
 dom of heaven, but unto them it is not given." When 
 it is remembered that this was the explanation of His 
 parabolic method of teaching, it cannot be denied that 
 the right interpretation of such a passage is of the 
 greatest importance for a right understanding of His 
 aim. The whole evidence of the documents is against 
 the idea that He reserved for a select coterie, an initiation 
 into a kind of Eleusinian mystery. On the other hand, 
 there is considerable evidence to show that He realized 
 as keenly as any modern psycho-analyst the importance 
 of the affective processes for right thinking and real 
 insight. See for example Matt. xiii. The whole idea is 
 summed up in the beatitude, " Blessed are the pure in 
 heart, for they shall see God." His words on the family 
 relationship have constituted a difficulty for many 
 believers, but they receive new illumination in the light 
 of these studies. The way He drew to Himself the affec- 
 tions and indeed the whole emotional life of His disciples 
 and then in the end told them, " It is expedient for you 
 that I go away " indicates something that is not so very 
 distantly analogous to the analyst's method of " trans- 
 ference " and the " overcoming of resistance." But 
 we must leave this question to the reader who i? 
 interested to work out for himself. 
 There are many religious practices and conceptions 
 
SOCIETY AND RELIGION 181 
 
 which afford striking and obvious parallels with the 
 analytic method. Confession and catharsis have evi- 
 dently close connexion. We need to remember, how- 
 ever, that catharsis is not the confession of offences, but 
 the evocation of memories or phantasies that have been 
 forgotten because they were disapproved. Penitence 
 and abreaction have resemblances, but the latter is a 
 wider term and has not necessarily any ethical implica- 
 tions. Faith and transference have undoubtedly close 
 connexions. Indeed, it would probably be asserted by 
 most analysts that it is the transference of the emotional 
 life of the individual on to some ideal object. The 
 object of the physician when the emotional energies 
 have been transferred to him is to get them redirected 
 towards reality. The essential requirement in faith is 
 evidently then, that if it is possible, in its object, the ideal 
 and the real should be reconciled. We have examples of 
 this, interpreting " ideal " in its psychological sense, 
 in the man who devotes himself to science, interpreting 
 it in its ethical sense, we may cite the individual whose 
 energies are absorbed in a sound moral purpose. 
 
 But religion, if it is to find any justification and place 
 in modern life, must involve more than this. It must 
 be, potentially at least, an all-embracing synthesis, not 
 merely of ideas but of all human interests. In actual 
 fact, the reconciliations we achieve are full of defects, 
 and religious faith in many instances is only possible by 
 the creation of " water-tight compartments " in the 
 mind, which involves some measure of mental dissocia- 
 tion. But the religion that rests upon such dissocia- 
 tion is merely an attempt to escape from reality, it is a 
 phantasy creation which, no matter how beautiful, 
 psycho-analysis must pronounce to be neurotic. The 
 apparently irreconcilable elements must not be ignored, 
 but faced. The essence of a sound religious faith is 
 that it faces the world of discord and conflict with an 
 assurance that these disharmonies can be resolved. Its 
 ideal is not a flight from the real, but is discovered 
 
182 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 
 
 within the real. The real contains at least the pos- 
 sibility of the ideal, if not the conditions of its inevitable 
 achievement. To the fulfilment of that possibility the 
 religious spirit gives its undivided allegiance and energy. 
 Such it seems to us is the corollary of psycho-analysis 
 with regard to its application to the religious life. It 
 is not within its province to say that such a condition of 
 things actually holds, but in the light of its discoveries 
 up to the present, it is apparently entitled to say that, 
 if it does not, then man is inextricably entangled within 
 the net of mental conflict, and he can only escape from 
 the realm of discord by seeking a refuge in phantasy. 
 It is possible to hold that the disharmonies are unreal, 
 mere illusions, that the individual has merely to shed his 
 illusions and he will perceive that the real is the ideal. 
 This is not the place to consider such a view in detail. 
 All we need say is, that the problem is not fundamentally 
 altered by calling evil, or discord, an illusion. The 
 illusion at any rate is real and admittedly evil. The 
 problem remains. 
 
 A second inference we may draw from these studies 
 is, that the nature of Reality should not destroy the 
 independence of the individual. We are here faced with 
 what appears to be an ultimate spiritual antimony. 
 The individual is evidently dependent upon Reality ; 
 he is the product of an evolutionary process. But 
 unless, in the evolution of personality, man has secured 
 some measure of real independence, then the whole 
 psycho-analytic procedure is a vain delusion. We are 
 trying to give the individual what he never can have, or 
 at least attempt to enlarge a sphere of freedom which is 
 non-existent. The aim of this therapeutic effort 
 apparently involves a conception of an evolutionary 
 process in which something new can " emerge " to use 
 the term adopted by Prof. Lloyd Morgan, in his recent 
 presidential address to the Psychological Section of the 
 British Association. We cannot consider this implied 
 philosophy here, but only point out its religious implica- 
 
SOCIETY AND RELIGION 183 
 
 tions. Schleiermacher's religion of absolute dependence 
 and the Calvanistic doctrine of " irresistible grace " 
 both do violence to this need for independence. It 
 must be acknowledged, however, that the Presby- 
 terians and Puritans of the seventeenth century were 
 possessed of this quality to a rugged and virile degree. 
 A possible explanation is that they compensated for an 
 absolute surrender to God, by an " over-determined " 
 independence in their attitude towards man. In his 
 book on " Grace and Personality," which deals in a very 
 able manner with the question we are now considering, 
 Oman says, " The true test of a father's aid is the 
 responsibility, freedom and independence of his son ; 
 and we speak of God as Father, not first because He 
 gives good gifts, but because He knows how to give 
 them that they may secure us in freedom and not 
 merely in fortune. The most liberal domination on 
 God's side and the most indebted subjection on ours 
 will never make us sons of God." Authority must not 
 paralyse initiative ; faith must not chloroform thought ; 
 obedience must ripen into fellowship ; moral law must 
 become spiritual principle ; "I ought " must become 
 " I want." Such, it seems to us, must be the religion 
 that does justice to the unconscious element in man's 
 nature. 
 
 The third requirement in religion is that it should 
 provide adequate scope for " sublimation." If, as 
 Freud maintains, the impulses of the unconscious are 
 the crude stuff of fleshly love, then it is only possible 
 to sublimate them into some higher form of love. That 
 religion will be most adequate which is most capable 
 of evoking this response in its fullest measure. We 
 need a reality rich enough at least to sustain the highest 
 possibilities of man's nature, otherwise we shall get a 
 religion which is comparable to an old maid's senti- 
 mental poodle worship. In the sublimating process, 
 it is desirable that as far as possible mere reaction 
 formations should be avoided, because, while the new 
 
184 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 
 
 attitude may be preferable to the old, it usually involves 
 a disproportionate emphasis and corresponding waste 
 of energy. This may, in our present state of knowledge, 
 be unavoidable. An obvious and common illustration 
 of such reaction formations is to be found in the attitude 
 of many converted drunkards. Much energy is devoted 
 to extreme denunciation that would be better devoted 
 towards more constructive activity. But religion 
 should not be judged by a narrow utilitarian standard 
 of " work value." Its silence, its rest, its satisfactions, 
 should not be hastily condemned or lightly despised. 
 A religion, which is a mere luxuriating in emotionalism 
 is admittedly pathological, whether this emotion is 
 stimulated by elaborate ritual or generated in a prayer- 
 meeting. Such results are merely the outcome of a 
 feeble sublimation of a love that spends itself in cuddles 
 and caresses, but shrinks from the sterner tests of 
 service and sacrifice. But this does not necessarily 
 mean that the spirit should never rest in the joyous 
 contemplation of the beautiful, or express the gladness 
 of a grateful heart. True love demands these, as well 
 as the opportunity to spend itself in self-forgetting 
 ministries. 
 
 But a purely individualistic religion cannot satisfy 
 human need. The " reality," call it by what name you 
 will, of religion, must be capable not only of sustaining 
 the sublimated affections of the individual, it must be 
 rich enough to meet the needs of the community. The 
 " Kingdom of heaven " must not only be within us, but 
 it must be amongst us. The sublimated individual can 
 only be at home in a sublimated society. If it is true, 
 that the unconscious consists of the repressed impulses 
 of a crude and fleshly love, aggravated by sentimental 
 indulgence, or thwarted and turned to hate by neglect 
 and harsh treatment, then we are compelled to infer, 
 that when it is purified and transformed, it will only 
 attain to its fullest possibilities in an atmosphere and 
 environment of like nature. Philosophy, regarding 
 
SOCIETY AND RELIGION 185 
 
 only the conscious aspect of man's nature, has exalted 
 Reason as the ideal of life. Now it must take into 
 account the unconscious too, and make room in its 
 scheme of things for Love. In this direction, we believe, 
 lies the hope of the final synthesis, in the union of 
 Reason and Love. Is there in " reality " anything 
 to correspond with this conception, or is it only a 
 phantasy ? 
 
GLOSSARY 
 
 Abreaction. The relief of emotional tension by 
 
 " living through " again the 
 experiences which originally 
 occasioned it. 
 
 Amnesia. A defect of memory which affects the 
 
 capacity to recall. 
 
 Auto-Erotism. Self-love. 
 
 Catharsis. The resolution of mental conflict by 
 
 the recall of the experiences in 
 which it originated. 
 
 Complex. A repressed or partially repressed 
 
 emotional system. 
 
 Exhibitionism. A sexual impulse to self-display. 
 
 Masochism. The impulse to find sexual satisfaction 
 
 in suffering. 
 
 Narcissism. A more highly organised form of 
 
 self-love. 
 
 Observationism. Sexual curiosity. 
 
 Ontogenesis. Development of the individual. 
 
 Phylogenesis. Development of the race. 
 
 Regression. The mental process in which the 
 
 individual returns to an earlier 
 stage of his emotional development. 
 
 Sadism. The impulse to find sexual satisfaction 
 
 by inflicting suffering. 
 
 Sublimation. The redirection of a sexual tendency 
 to a non-sexual and socially satis- 
 factory end. 
 
 Transference. The assumption of a new " object " 
 by an emotional system. Trans- 
 ference on to the physician is one 
 important form. 
 186 
 
INDEX 
 
 iAbreaction, 99-102, 181 
 (Adaptability, 145, 172 
 
 Adler, A., 20, 21 
 
 Amnesia, 7, 100-102 
 
 Analysis, of Dreams, 28-32, 41, 
 
 42, 45-7 
 Anxiety, 40, 82 
 Appetite, 70 
 
 Archaic Thought Forms, 66 
 Art, 160 
 
 Association, Free, 18, 29-32, 44, 
 56, 158 
 of Ideas, 2 
 Word, 18, 19, 99, 130 
 Auto-analysis, 107-113, 115, 
 
 117, 118 
 Auto-erotism, 85 
 Automatism, 6, 9 
 Auto-suggestion, 1 1 3-1 8 
 
 Baudouin, C, 114-17 
 
 Bergson, H., 44, 93, 123 
 1 Bernheim, 6 
 
 Binet, A., 146 
 
 Bleuler, 18 
 
 Breuer, 16, 17, 20, 102 
 j Brill, 125, 135 
 ; Brown, W., 21, 100-102 
 
 I Catharsis, 17, 98, 99, 181 
 J Censor, 10, 32-37, 50 
 I Charcot, 6, 17 
 Childhood, 42, 43, 131-139 
 ' Children, Only, 135 
 
 Favourite, 135, 136 
 Claustrophobia, 59 
 Collection, 115 
 (Communism, 158 
 Compensation, 21 
 
 Theory of Dreams, 52 
 1 Complex, 13, 75, 78, 79, 121, 152, 
 
 163 
 ) Condensation, 48, 49 
 
 Confession, 181 
 
 Conflict, 19, 35, 74-77, 95, i37> 
 
 162, 164, 179 
 Consciousness, 2, 7-13, 44, 55 
 
 Class, 170, 171 
 
 Secondary, 7, 8 
 Conscience, 55 
 Content, Manifest and Latent, 
 
 27-29 
 Contention, 115 
 Coue, 113, 114, 116 
 Courts, Judicial, 174-176 
 Crime, 173-177 
 
 Day dreams, 36, 149 
 
 Darwin, C, 3 
 
 Defence Mechanism, 40, 121, 
 
 172 
 Demosthenes, 21 
 Displacement, 49 
 Dissociation, 13, 37, 38, 76, 181 
 Dream Disguise, 33 
 
 Symbolism, 50, 53 
 
 Work, 48-51 
 Dreams, Analysis of, 28-32, 41, 
 
 42, 45-47. 5i 
 
 and Auto-analysis, 111 
 
 and Hysteria, 18, 22 
 
 and Recent Experience, 23 
 
 Anxiety, 40 
 
 Children's, 26 
 
 Content of, 27-29 
 
 Ego-centric Interest of, 47 
 
 Examples, 22, 25, 26, 28, 41, 
 42, 45-48, 51-53 
 
 Fear, 39-43 
 
 Function of, 32 
 
 of Normal and Neurotic Sub- 
 jects, 24 
 
 Popular Interpretation of, 22 
 
 Sources of, 43-48 
 
 Terror, 39, 40 
 
 Wish-Fulfilment, 25-27, 32 
 
 187 
 
188 
 
 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 
 
 Drever, J., n, 13, 70, 78, 96 
 
 Economics, 164, 165, 167, 170, 
 
 175 
 
 Education and Democracy, 147 
 
 and Home, 128-139 
 
 and School, 139-146 
 
 and Society, 143-147, 172 
 
 Curriculum, 142, 143 
 
 Freedom in, 144, 147-150 
 
 Religious, 143 
 
 Sexual, 150-153 
 Effort, Voluntary, 114 
 
 Reversed, Law of, 114 
 Egotistic Impulse, 20, 77, 79, 
 
 9i 
 Elaboration, Secondary, 50 
 Emotions, 3, 4, 49, 58, 76, 99, 
 
 100, 132, 133, 155, 184 
 Environment, 4, 62, 136, 138, 
 
 149 
 Ethics, 16, 56 
 Excuses, 61, in, 120, 128 
 Exhibitionism, 89, 155 
 Experience, 10, 17 
 Evans, E., 133 
 
 Faith, 181 
 
 Ferenczi, 28, 94 
 
 Finalism, 54 
 
 Fixation, 75 
 
 Flournoy, 159 
 
 Forgetting, 34, 37, 38, 120, 121, 
 
 124, 126-128 
 Formations, Compromise, 75, 
 
 155 
 Reaction, 75, 134, 155, 184 
 
 Freedom, 134, 144, 147-150 
 
 Freud, S., and Adler, 21 
 and Breuer, 16, 17, 20 
 and Jung, 54, 55 
 Censor, 36 
 Dissociation, 38 
 Free Association, 30, 31 
 Function of Dreams, 32 
 Instinctive Tendencies, 15, 77, 
 
 93 
 
 Libido, 93 
 
 Mislaying of Articles, 125, 126 
 Psychic Apparatus, 8, 9 
 Reality and Pleasure-Pain 
 Principle, 71 s 
 
 Freud, Religion, 179 
 Riding Dream, 48 
 Sexual Trends, 79 
 Sexual Theory, 80-93 
 Slip of the Tongue, 125 
 Theory of Neuroses, 83 
 Totem and Taboo, 158 
 Transference, 18, 104, 105 
 
 Gospels, 180 
 
 Grevillers, 127, 128 
 Gregarious Instincts, 94 
 
 Habit, 108, 109 
 
 Hadfield, 179 
 
 Hall, F., 166 
 
 Healey, W., 75, 137, 138 
 
 Heredity, 107 
 
 Herd Instinct, 77, 79, 94, 96 
 
 Hobhouse, L. T., 147, 173 
 
 Holt, E., 136 
 
 Home, 130-139, 161 
 
 Homosexualism, 88 
 
 Hygiene, 153 
 
 Hypnotism, 6, 7, 9, 17, 99 
 
 Hysteria, 7, 8, 61, 82 
 
 Identification, 49, 64, 65, 69 
 Imagination, 114 
 Imitation, 133 
 Independence, 182, 183 
 Industry, 164, 165 
 Inferiority Complex, 21, 121, 170 
 Instinct, 3, 4, 15, 77-96 
 Intellectualism, 3, 6 
 Intelligence, of children, 131, 
 170 
 Tests, 145, 146 
 Introjection, 95 
 Introspection, 78, 109-110 
 
 Janet, Pierre, 6, i i 
 
 Jews, 135 
 
 Jones, E., 21, 61, 66, 71, 72, 94, 
 
 95, 104, 120, 123, 153, i54< 
 
 177, 178 
 Jung, C, n, 18-21, 51-56, 66, 
 
 73, 84, 86-88, 91, 131-134, 
 
 179 
 
 Kleptomania, 75, 137, 138 
 Kolnai, A., 158 
 
INDEX 
 
 189 
 
 Learning, 121, 122, 136 
 Libido, 20, 93, 178, 179 
 Long, C, 21 
 
 MacDougall, W., 3-6, 11, 13, 
 21, 77» 79, 90, 91, 94, 101, 
 133 
 Magistrates, 174 
 Masochism, 79, 89, 90 
 Mechanism, 4 
 Memory, 9, 10, 17, 20 
 Mind, 8 
 
 and disease, 108, 109, 128 
 
 Neurotic, 18 
 Misconduct, 137, 138 
 Mislaying of Articles, 125, 126 
 Montessori, 140, 141, 148 
 Morel, 159 
 Morgan, Lloyd, 182 
 Myers, C. S., 21, 101, 102 
 
 Neuroses, 35, 69, 72, 73, 83, 97, 
 162, 170 
 War, 82, 100-102 
 Nicoll, M., 21 
 Nietzsche, 20 
 Nunn, P., 140 
 
 Obliviscence, 120 
 Observationism, 89 
 Obsession, 7 
 
 CEdipus Complex, 86, 92 
 Offenders, Young, 174 
 Oman, J., 183 
 
 Parent-Relation, 85, 86, 131- 
 
 139, 161 
 Parents, 167-169 
 Patriarchs, Hebrew, 135 
 Penitence, 181 
 Personality, 140, 183 
 
 Double, 6, 14 
 Pfister, 159, 178 
 Philosophy, 177, 178, 184, 185, 
 
 Religious, 159 
 
 Social, 159 
 Phobias, 7 
 
 Pleasure-Pain Principle, 69-74 
 Pre-conscious, 9-12, 14 
 Presentability, Regard for, 50 
 Prince, M., 6, 11, 14 
 
 Process, Primary and Secondary 
 
 71-74 
 Psycho-Analysis and Crime, 
 
 173-177 
 and Educational Aims, 143, 
 
 145 
 and Ethics, 55, 56 
 and Home, 1 30 
 and Human Problems, 119 
 and Motives, 61, 62 
 and Non-sexual Instincts, 93 
 and Overcoming of Resis- 
 tance, 77, 105 
 and Philosophy, 177, 178 
 and Religion, 178, 179 
 and Society, 160 
 and Suggestion, 29, 102, 103, 
 
 113, 117, 118 
 and Symbolism, 65 
 and Transference, 104 
 and Unemployment, 169-172 
 and War Neuroses, 98-102 
 Origin and History, 16-22 
 Technique, 29-32, 84, 98-107, 
 
 128, 146 
 Terminology, 76, 93 
 Theory of, 8-15, 25, 92, 158 
 
 Psychology, 2, 15, 21, 62, 76, 
 92, 129, 175 
 Comparative, 3, 5, 6 
 New, 1, 129 
 
 Psycho-Pathology of Everyday 
 Life, 37, 1 19-128 
 
 Puberty, 88 
 
 Punishment, 137, 138, 173 
 
 Putnam, J. J., 91, 177 
 
 Rationalization, 60-62, 75, 76 
 Reality, 71, 95, 1 81-185 
 
 Principle, 63, 69-74 
 Recall, 10, 17 
 Regression, 17, 20, 92 
 Reik, 159 
 
 Relations, Social, 163 
 Religion, 143, 178-185 
 Relaxation, 29, 115 
 Repression, 15, 32-38, 95, 106, 
 
 155 
 Resistance, 17, 30, 77, 84, 105, 
 
 106 
 Rivers, W. H. R., 21, 33~35> 94* 
 
 179 
 
190 
 
 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 
 
 Sadism, 79, 89, 90, 137 
 
 Schleiermacher, 183 
 
 Self-consciousness, 5, 7, 8, 13, 14 
 
 Sensations, 47 
 
 Sentiments, 13 
 
 Sex, 17, 20-22, 75, 77, 80-93, 
 
 137. 150-153, 166, 167 
 Sidis, B., 6, 11, 140 
 Silberer, 50, 159 
 Slip of the Tongue, 125 
 Social Ideal, 160-169 
 
 Misfits, 169-177 
 Society, 96, 145, 147, 159, 160 
 
 Sociology, 158 
 
 Spontaneity, 141, 142, 148 
 
 Stekel, 41, 179 
 
 Subconscious, 6-8, 11, 14-16, 
 114 
 
 Sublimation, 22, 53, 68, 90, 106, 
 112, 153-157, i g 3, 184 
 
 Suggestion, 6, 7, 29, 94, 102, 103 
 
 Suggestibility, Law of, 140 
 
 Suppression, 34, 35 
 
 Suspense, 40 
 
 Symbolism, 50, 53, 65-69 
 
 Synthesis, Mental, 8, 13, 101, 
 102 
 
 Tansley, 78, 79, no 
 Teacher, Personality of, 140, 145 
 Tead, O., 165 
 Teleology, 5, 31 
 
 Tendency, 10, n, 13, 14, 32, 62- 
 69 
 and wish, 27 
 
 Tendency, Definition of, 63 
 Tendencies, Childhood, 42, 43 
 
 Conflict of, 74, 77 
 
 Disguise of, 33, 36 
 
 Innate and acquired, 63 
 
 Instinctive, 77-96 
 
 Modification of, 64 
 
 Repressed, 38 
 
 Types of Unconscious, 57-59 
 Trades Unions, 158, 172 
 Transference, 18, 102-107, 162, 
 
 180-181 
 Trotter, 93, 95 
 
 Unconscious and Crime, 177 
 and Determinism, 31, 120 
 and the Immediately Painful, 
 
 35 
 
 and Industrial Relations, 163 
 
 and Morals, 54 
 
 and Philosophy, 185 
 
 and Repression, 38, 43 
 
 and Society, 159 
 
 Tendencies, Types of, 58-60 
 
 Wish, 27, 128 
 Unemployment, 169-172 
 Utilitarianism, 2, 3 
 
 Watts, F., 163 
 
 Wallas, G., 3, 63 
 
 White, W. A., 108-109 
 
 Will, 114 
 
 Wish-fulfilment, 25-27, 97, 128 
 
 Wish, Death, 42, 43 
 
 Woods, A., 148 
 
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