Psychoanalysis Evolves: Freudian Dissenters

This is the second post in my series on psychotherapy. I know, I've been gone a long time. My stats show it, too.

When Freud published The Interpretation of Dreams, he became a very controversial figure because of his emphasis on sexuality. He went through a brief period where he worked in isolation, but, by 1902. he began to gather a group of physicians around him. By 1908, the group had grown into the Vienna Psychoanalyic Society. Two early members of the Society eventually split from Freud: Alfred Adler and Carl Jung.

Carl Jung

Jung and Freud were very close and Freud saw Jung as his successor. This relationship soon fell apart, however, as Jung began to diverge from Freud's views. There are many accounts (some of them scandalous) of their final split, which, fortunately, are irrelevant to my goals for this series.

Jung's theory, like Freud's, is extremely complicated. A good summary of his ideas can be found here. Jung became fascinated with symbols, and began to see a cross-cultural pattern in them. He argued that there are "archetypes" among those symbols which relate to common human heritage, not just the individual's experience. Thus, each of us has a set of common symbols within us, which Jung referred to as the collective unconscious. The collective unconscious coexisted with the personal unconscious.

For Jung, neurosis, or mental illness in general, resulted from attempts to cut off elements of both the collective and personal unconscious from the conscious experience of the individual. Humans have an innate need for "self-realization," which involves understanding and integrating all of the material from the collective and personal unconscious. Proceeding with self-realization results in "individuation," the process of becoming a unique and unified individual.

Psychotherapy for Jung was less structured than psychoanalysis. He did not use free-association the same way Freud did. Rather, he relied on the spontaneous discussion of the individual. Like Freud, he analyzed dreams and verbalized symbols. He was less concerned with uncovering trauma and more concerned with tracing the relationships among symbols. He also understood symbols more in terms of common human experience and less in terms of sexuality. Through therapy, individuals become more centered and more comfortable with their own contradictions.

Alfred Adler

An early member of Freud's inner circle, Adler was the first to break with Freud. A good summary of his ideas can be found here and here. Adler anticipated much of modern psychology and psychotherapy. He dispensed with Freud's instinctive psychology and focused instead on the goal-oriented nature of human behavior.

Adler saw individuals first and foremost as social creatures, forming goals and striving to meet them. Where Freud talked about the superego managing our behavior, Adler conceived of the role of values. This is an oversimplification, but essentially Adler saw mental health in terms of (a) having healthy values, which affect what goals we try to achieve, and (b) having both the confidence and the ability to achieve those goals.

This means that analysis was very straightforward. The analyst encourages the patient to overcome feelings of insecurity, develop more rewarding and meaningful relationships, and to pursue healthy life goals. Insight and exploration of the patient's past occur early in the relationship, but later on, there is more emphasis on behavior change.

There were two critical differences between Adler and Freud. First, Adler emphasized the role of empathy in the therapeutic relationship. For Freud, the analyst was supposed to be a blank slate. This encouraged the development of transference. The interpretation of transference was critical for psychoanalysis. In contrast, Adler argued that the analyst should develop an empathic relationship with the patient, stimulating hope and commitment to the process. Second, while Freud encouraged the analyst to be quiet and allow the patient to free associate, Adler encouraged the analyst to engage in Socratic dialogs to help the patient achieve insights.

Conclusions

Jung and Adler are really polar opposites. Adler was much the realist, while Jung was much more mystical. Together, Jung and Adler moved analysis off the couch and put it across the desk. This changed the dynamic between the patient and the analyst, making it possible to create the modern collaborative relationship.

Both Jung and Adler continue to be influential, and there continue to be institutes (e.g., Alfred Adler Institutes and C. G. Jung Institutes) devoted to their ideas. While Jung is better known, it has been Adler whose influence has been most pervasive in modern psychotherapy. He anticipated the more active approaches we use today and was the first analyst to downplay the emphasis on probing the unconscious. We will come back to him briefly when we discuss cognitive-behavior therapy.

A Brief History of Psychotherapy: Freud

When I originally conceived of this series, I thought it would be a brief set posts. I can already see that I was overly optimistic. There's an awful lot of material here. So, at this point, I'm not sure of how many posts it will take to complete this project.

Freud, Charcot, and Hysteria

Most people believe that psychotherapy began with Freud. Actually, Freud himself (Himself?) began as a student of the French neurologist, Charcot, who was investigating the phenomenon of hysteria. In this disorder, patients, mostly women, would manifest symptoms of physical disorders (such as paralysis or blindness) with no known physical causes. (Space prevents me from dealing with the feminist issues here.)

Charcot discovered that hypnotizing his patients and encouraging them to talk about their symptoms would result in their remission. Freud was very impressed with this and began trying Charcot's technique on his own patients. He began a brief collaboration with Josef Breuer, and in 1895, they published Studies on Hysteria, probably the first book ever published on psychotherapy.

Freud apparently was either not a very good hypnotist or not a very enthusiastic hypnotist and soon abandoned hypnotic induction. He kept everything else in place; the patient would lie down on a couch in a dimly lit room and begin talking about her symptoms. There is an apocryphal story that Freud initially used to question his patients to clarify what they were talking about. On at at least one occasion, the patient said, "Don't interrupt me when I'm talking," and Freud learned to be quiet and listen during free association. This is the form of classical psychoanalytic practice: a period of free association followed by interpretation of the material by the analyst.

Freud's initial work led to the publication of The Interpretation of Dreams in 1899. (The publisher later dated the book for 1900, probably to identify it with modernity.) This book, along with his later book, An Outline of Psychoanalysis, (published in 1940) contain the best material on Freudian psychoanalysis.

Personality and Behavior

Psychoanalytic theory is highly complex and was constantly evolving under Freud; I cannot do it justice here. Nevertheless, to understand why Freud did what he did, you have to understand some part of his theory of personality.

For Freud, personality reflected the interaction of forces inside the psyche. These intrapsychic forces interacted and opposed each other. The healthy psyche was one where the forces balanced each other out and energy was expended in rational behavior. These forces interacted within and between three major structures in the psyche: The id, or unconscious mind; the ego, the conscious, rational part of our minds; and the superego, essentially our conscience, although Freud thought of it as the internalized parent.

The id is driven by instincts to either create or destroy. The basic physiological instinct associated with creativity is, of course, sexual reproduction. Aggression is the basic physiological instinct associated with destruction. Because the id is the only source of energy, it is always the central player in our behavior.

The ego and the superego obtain energy from the id through symbolization. The id is unable to tell the difference between reality and the symbol; that is the job of the ego. Hence, the ego would direct the individual to engage in behaviors symbolically related to these instincts. Anything, from playing a musical instrument, to telling a joke to a friend, to doodling on a piece of paper would accomplish this.

It is the job of the superego to control the impulsive, reckless, and immoral behavior of the id. In the healthy individual, the ego is the negotiator between them; in the unhealthy individual, the ego is the battlefield between them. When the superego is in control, the individual is rigid, compulsive, and intolerant. In this three-way interplay, the symptoms of mental illness emerge.

Treatment

It is important to understand that treatment actually evolved before the theory did. Freud thought that his treatment worked. After being analyzed, symptoms of hysteria seemed to go away. Hence, psychoanalysis is really an explanation for why treatment worked.

Treatment, for Freud, was a matter of balancing intrapsychic forces. For doing this, he had three primary tools: Free association, dream interpretation, and analysis of the transference relationship. Free association gives us the classical image of the patient on The Couch.

Free association. Free association, as described above, provided the primary data for analysis. It was assumed that if the patient was talking about it, it was important. The juxtaposition of different ideas gave a clue about unconscious connections between them. Symbolization was manifested both in free association and in dreams, and proper interpretation was crucial to treatment.

Dream interpretation. Freud regarded dreams as the "royal road to the unconscious." He found that patients often discussed dreams during free association and became convinced that dreams represented unconscious processes. By analyzing the dream symbols, the analyst developed insight into the patient's problems.

Transference. Transference refers to the manner in which the patient responds to the analyst. Does the patient idealize the analyst, or does the patient "forget" about appointments? Freud concluded that the patient "transfers" his or her feelings about the parents onto the analyst. This, of course gives clues about early family relationships that are so critical to the development of the individual. To this end, Freud argued that the analyst should be as bland as possible.

Countertransference is the other side of the coin and refers to the feelings of the analyst toward the patient. While this gives insight into the analyst's state of mind, it also helps the analyst understand how the patient affects other people. If, for example, the analyst feels angry at a patient, it may suggest that the patient is behaving in a hostile manner toward the analyst. That provides much data for the analysis.

Analysis. Using these tools, Freud investigated the unconscious life of the individual. By uncovering unconscious conflicts and developing insight, Freud believed that he could strengthen the ego and redirect the emotional energies in a healthier manner. This always involved understanding the internal symbolic world of the individual, and the symptom was always linked symbolically to the underlying trauma. If, for example, a patient complained of hysterical blindness, Freud assumed it was because they had seen something awful. Hence, it was necessary to uncover the traumatic event the patient had seen, to relieve the symptoms. Generally, for Freud, the traumatic event involved childhood trauma.

By developing insight and uncovering repressed trauma, energies attached to inappropriate objects can be released and appropriately redirected by the ego. Freud used the term, catharsis, to refer to re-experiencing the emotions related to the trauma. Release of the tensions associated was called "abreaction."

Conclusions

For those who know something of Freud, you will note that I have said nothing about his theories of development. I have done that deliberately. I am more interested in focusing on psychotherapy than on personality development or psychopathology. I will only say in passing that Freud was very right to observe that a child is not a small adult. His scheme of development was very wrong.

Freud remains a controversial figure today. We continue to argue about his strengths and weaknesses. (A good discussion of the strengths and weaknesses of classical psychoanalytical theory is contained here.) In relation to psychotherapy, I think it is safe to say, he made several significant errors.

First, Peter Kramer, in his book, Freud: Inventor of the Modern Mind, argues that a great error of Freud was his belief that the symptom is a symbol. For Freud, the symptoms were always related to the underlying psychodynamics of the individual. We know now that is not true. Depressed people show similar symptoms regardless of their underlying dynamics. So, for example, if a person experiences panics when out of the house, Freud would have assumed that the person experienced some trauma outside of the house. The goal of treatment would involve uncovering that trauma and unlocking the emotions associated with it.

Freud's second error was that he didn't understand the role of the situation, and saw behavior as a function of the internal dynamics of the individual. Freud did not recognize that individuals acquire maladaptive behavior through experience. A child growing up in an abusive environment learns to be a perfectionist because it helps reduce the abuse. It's not because of a rigid superego.

Third, Freud did not understand the influence of culture. We know that as culture changes, symptoms of mental illness change. Freud saw a lot of hysterical blindness and paralysis. We see almost none of it today. In fact, I have been in practice for over 30 years, and I have yet to see an individual with hysterical blindness. Similarly, Freud saw the role of women as being biologically, not culturally determined. He would be amazed to see women working along side of men, much less fighting in the military.

Finally, Freud hoped that someday psychoanalysis would be subjected to scientific evaluation. But, psychoanalysis is not a scientific theory, especially as science is practiced over 100 years after The Interpretation of Dreams was written. Psychoanalysis is too complex and it makes too many conflicting predictions. There is also a paucity of systematically collected data. But, that does not mean Freud has nothing to offer us.

As I said previously, Freud was a visionary. His ideas are so ingrained in us today, that we cannot conceive of a world without the idea of unconscious motivation. For me, Freud, beginning with almost nothing, made three significant breakthroughs.

First, through his concept of transference, Freud uncovered the therapeutic relationship. Today, we understand that the relationship between the therapist and the patient is the primary vehicle for change. The therapist and the patient must have a relationship of mutual trust and respect if the patient will explore material that is potentially shameful and anxiety-provoking. The modern view of the therapeutic relationship is broader than Freud's, but there is no doubt that he originated the idea.

Second, Freud recognized that something is going on in people's minds that they are unable to talk about. Most modern therapists do not talk about investigating the unconscious, but they do recognize that there are things going on the person's head that are relevant but difficult to identify and change.

Finally, and most importantly, Freud recognized that speech is a very powerful tool. The term, "talking cure" came from one of Freud's patients, and it is a very apt description. Without Freud, there would be no psychotherapy today.

Coming Soon

Today, it is safe to say that there are few orthodox Freudians left. In fact, early in the twentieth century, contemporaries of Freud began to elaborate and diverge from his thinking. By the 1950's psychoanalysis had evolved significantly from it's roots. My next post will trace that change.

The Tyranny of the Shoulds

I was reading the New York Times, as usual, and stumbled across two articles I knew I should blog about. The first was Bruce Stutz's account of his withdrawal from Effexor, an antidepressant drug. Effexor is a very popular drug, especially among primary care physicians, and it can be very hard to get off. His story is, at points, gruesome. But it speaks for itself, and right now I have nothing to add. I will soon, though, so stay tuned.

The second story is much funnier and more enjoyable. It's an article in the Book Review, entitled, Why Not the Worst? In it, the author, Joe Queenan, writes about his love of bad books and compares himself to others who are obsessed with quality:

Most of us are familiar with people who make a fetish out of quality: They read only good books, they see only good movies, they listen only to good music, they discuss politics only with good people, and they’re not shy about letting you know it. They think this makes them smarter and better than everybody else, but it doesn’t. It makes them mean and overly judgmental and miserly, as if taking 15 minutes to flip through “The Da Vinci Code” is a crime so monstrous, an offense in such flagrant violation of the sacred laws of intellectual time-management, that they will be cast out into the darkness by the Keepers of the Cultural Flame.

Queenan goes on:

Some people would identify a passion for bad books as a guilty pleasure, but I prefer to think of it as a pleasure I do not feel guilty about, even though I probably should. Bad movies, bad hairdos, bad relationships and bad Supreme Court rulings merely make me chuckle. Bad books make me laugh. And if they ever stop writing books with lines like “Being a leader of the Huns is often a lonely job,” I want to stop breathing on the spot.

So, what does this have to do with psychology?

Queenan is attacking what Karen Horney (pronounced HORN-eye), an early neo-analyst, called "the tyranny of the shoulds." In this, Horney anticipated the cognitive-behavioral therapies of Albert Ellis and Aaron Beck.

Horney recognized that we carry around many beliefs about what should or should not be. Some shoulds are about what happen to us. We believe, "I should be successful," or "My spouse should know what I want without my saying so." Unfortunately, that's just not realistic.

We have every reason and right to want things. But, "should-ing" is based on the unrealistic belief that the world must grant us what we want, just because we think we're right. When the world doesn't cooperate with that belief, we get angry or depressed.

Some shoulds address standards for our own behavior. For example, "I should read only good books." These shoulds make us rigid and rob us of our pleasures. Why not enjoy a bad book occasionally? Queenan's observation, "I prefer to think of it as a pleasure I do not feel guilty about," is a wonderful rejection of those shoulds.

When I hear a client bring up their shoulds, it is my job to attack those beliefs and replace them with more flexible beliefs. Some clinicians use Socratic questioning to attack peoples shoulds. For myself, I've found that far too often, Socratic questioning turns into the Possum Lodge Word Game. Instead, I like to hit people between the eyes with a one-liner.

Needless to say, I'm always on the lookout for a good one-liner. Now, I can't wait to say to a client, "Don't think of it as a guilty pleasure, think of it as a pleasure you don't feel guilty about."

Insight and Psychotherapy

Now that Chanukah has passed, my round of parties and events has also passed. Christmas is a pretty boring day for me, so it gives me a chance to catch up on this poor, neglected blog.

There have been several good articles in the New York Times over the last few weeks. This one, entitled, "Sometimes the Why isn't Crucial," caught my attention. The author, Sally Satel, is a psychiatrist. She works in a substance abuse treatment facility and she questions the effectiveness of insight as a psychotherapeutic tool for her. She argues that explaining "why" someone drinks isn't as important as developing resources to resist urges to drink.

Developing insight is the primary vehicle of change for psychoanalysis and related therapies. Freud famously observed, "The child is the father of the man," meaning who we are today comes from our previous experiences. For these insight-based therapies, developing insight means not only explaining why someone has their problem, but also helping them get in touch with the feelings associated with it. Along with the couch, it's a stereotypical view of psychotherapy.

The public is generally unaware that arguments against insight-based therapies dates back many years. Albert Ellis has been arguing this point since the 1950's. In a more recent book titled (as only he can title it), How to Refuse to Make Yourself Miserable about Anything Yes Anything, he says (as only he can say):

Your early childhood experiences and your past conditioning did not originally make you disturbed. You did. (p.70).

Ellis argues that how we think and act in the present is what really matters. He says, speaking of his clients, "Their early thoughts and feelings did not make them anxious today. Rather, their present and continuing dogmas...were really the more direct cause of their current neurosis." (p.70; Emphasis in the the original). So, according to Ellis, we effect emotional and behavioral change by addressing current irrational beliefs, not by uncovering how the beliefs were acquired.

Ellis is not the only one. Behaviorists, such as Joseph Wolpe , also writing in the 1950's, argued that exposure to the feared stimulus was a more effective way of treating phobias than insight-based therapies. Fifty years later, and God knows how many studies, we still treat phobias with exposure-based treatments. The data is conclusive. Insight alone is at best minimally effective in treating phobias or almost any psychological dysfunction.

Satel identifies one reason why insight isn't effective. We have a tendency to distort our memories of life events in an effort to develop a coherent narrative:

What scientists call hindsight bias kicks in when we try to figure out the causal chain of events leading to the current situation. We may well come up with a tidy story but, inevitably, it will contain large swaths of revisionist history. It’s not that we bias ourselves deliberately; it happens because the mind tends to make events in the past appear comprehensible and orderly. We forget the uncertainties that might have beset us as we struggled in real time.

So, how do we develop insight based on "large swaths of revisionist history?" If we're reconstructing our past, an erroneous reconstruction would logically hinder our progress. Is insight important at all?

I think so. Insight has a limited, but important place because it helps us deal with resistance in psychotherapy. To illustrate, here are two vignettes. To guard my clients' privacy, they are composites of several past clients with a little bit of stereotyping mixed in.

First, consider a client who resists going to AA meetings. Normally, the therapist would take this as a sign the client is still denying his alcoholism. Without looking at his past, the therapist's natural tendency would be to confront the client about his denial. However, there is another issue.

The AA meetings remind the client of prayer meetings his family attended while he was a child. The religious sect that sponsored these meetings encouraged physical abuse of children, and the client is still coping with intense feelings of guilt and powerlessness stemming from this. After identifying this source of resistance do you think the client will then jump up and go to AA meetings? Of course not.

Putting the resistance into that context will do two things. It will relieve the client's guilt for not following through with clinical recommendations. Second, giving the client the right to refuse AA and still be respected will help him feel less powerless. Then, the therapist should look for other ways of working on recovery.

The second example involves cognitive therapy for a female client who is unable to trust men. She goes through cycles where she meets a man and falls deeply in love with him. Then, without reason, she becomes extremely jealous. She harasses him, checks on him, and eventually drives him away. She comes into therapy depressed and hopeless about ever having a normal relationship.

Without dealing with this in historical context, cognitive therapy would focus on changing the dysfunctional cognitions the client has about men. The therapist would probably identify the thought, "If my boyfriend were to cheat on me, it would be so awful, I couldn't survive it." Then, the therapist would challenge (a) the probability of cheating; and (b) whether or not her boyfriend's cheating would be survivable. However, each effort to challenge her beliefs is met by "Yes, but...." It is classic resistance behavior.

The "yes, but..." indicates the therapist is arousing anxiety which is itself interfering with therapy. A review of the client's history indicates she grew up in a family where the father had frequent affairs. There were chaotic arguments between the parents each time an affair was uncovered. The mother became increasingly depressed and spent most of her time in bed. After years of chaos, in which the client wound up being a parent to both her mother and her younger siblings, her parents finally divorced. Her mother remained angry and embittered for the rest of her life, insisting that all men are worthless.

So, the client's belief is closer to this: "All men are cheaters and when (not if) my boyfriend cheats on me, it will be awful! I'll turn into my mother and the rest of my life will be ruined." With this historical context, the therapist and client understand the "why" of her behavior. Without that understanding, there is no way to help the client will take the risk of changing her beliefs. The anxiety engendered by being reminded of her childhood is too great. Still, for change to happen, she needs to know that, in the present, she has the resources to deal with loss, rejection, and betrayal, without turning into her mother. Then, she can say, "It would be bad if my boyfriend cheated on me, but I can survive it. The risk is worth it, because it gives me a chance to have a happy, rewarding relationship."

In conclusion, explaining "why" has its place in therapy, but is useless by itself. Good therapy stays in the present, but uses the past as context. Even if the story is distorted, it still has value, providing meaning and motivation for change.

A New/Old Look at Psychoanalysis

The New York Times has an interview with Owen Renik, a psychoanalyst who has just written a book entitled, Practical Psychoanalysis for Therapists and Patients. It controls this wonderful interchange:

Q. You place great emphasis in the book on symptom relief as the central measure of the effectiveness of therapy. Shouldn't that be obvious?

A. Not necessarily. There is a tendency among psychoanalysts to pursue self-awareness as a goal in itself, rather than a means to an end. Originally, the idea was that the self-understanding that arose as a result of psychoanalysis was unique and impressive and valid because it afforded relief from symptoms that were otherwise impossible to treat.

If you don’t require that self-awareness be validated by symptom relief, there are two destructive consequences. The first is scientific. You have no independent variable to track; you set up a circular situation in which it’s the analyst’s theory that determines what is found in analysis. Many critics of psychoanalysis have recognized this.

But an equally important consequence is that you relieve the analyst of any accountability. The process can go on forever, and there are all kinds of temptations to extend it, including the therapist’s vanity, his inability to admit failure, his narcissism — and nobody likes lost income. The therapy then becomes an esoteric practice of proselytizing, rather than a discipline, and the proof of that is everywhere in the world, where fewer and fewer people go to analysis at all. If the therapy worked, people would be going.

This issue actually goes back to 1952 when H. J. Eysenck had argued that psychotherapy was ineffective (a 1957 paper is available here). At the time, psychoanalysis was the dominant form of psychotherapy. Although deficiencies with his research have been well documented, his paper touched off the field of psychotherapy research, and such studies continue to this day. Generally, it has been concluded that certain forms of problem-oriented psychotherapy (e.g., cognitive therapy, behavior therapy, and interpersonal therapy) are effective for treatment of anxiety, depression, and other specific psychological problems. Psychoanalysis, and other psychodynamic therapies have not fared so well, although I have seen a few positive studies in the past.

The issue is not just whether or not psychotherapy "works;" it's also whether or not this particular client is benefiting from a particular therapy, from this particular therapist. This is what we call accountability, and psychologists have not taken it seriously enough. I'm particularly impressed with Renik's eloquent comments about the dangers of not addressing symptom relief in therapy, i.e., not being accountable.

Today, it is becoming more common for therapists to begin sessions with a fairly straightforward questioning of a client about his or her level of symptoms. A quick minute of asking about mood, sleep, appetite, frustration tolerance, and so forth can provide adequate data for accountability. It also helps discourage the conduct of endless, directionless therapy, whose sole hallmark is to keep the client coming back for another fully paid session.