Part 2

Not less stimulating and informative than the first, is the second part of the present volume, containing Freud’s own story of his life and his science. It is common knowledge today that Freud, in his inimitable objectivity, has always published facts and fancies which other scientists would have been only too careful to hide from the eyes of their contemporaries.

On the occasion of Freud’s seventieth birthday, I wrote in THE INTERNATIONAL JOURNAL OF PSYCHOANALYSIS (July/October 1926):

So far as his personality is concerned, he has completely taken the wind from the sails of modern methods of inquiry which attempts to gain fresh insight into the development of a scientist’s views, by studying the intimate details of his private life. In his “Traumdeutung” and “Psychopathologie des Alltagslebens”, Freud has undertaken this task himself in a way previously unknown, and has not only indicated new lines of research for this kind of inquiry, but given for all time an example of a candor quite ruthless towards himself. He has also revealed unhesitatingly the ‘secrets of the laboratory’, the inevitable vacillations and uncertainties that are usually so carefully kept hidden.

I hope that the reader will agree with me that the part of this book which contains Freud’s “An Autobiographical Study” again displays candor and frankness to an astonishing degree. This part of the present volume, aside from other information, will also demonstrate to the student of psychology the tolerance Freud manifests in regard to former disciples of his who, apparently driven by an overpowering impatience, or because “they did not fancy to dwell in the Depths of the Unconscious” only too early, and with deplorable rashness, hastened to generalize their ideas, notwithstanding the insufficiency of their theories to explain complicated facts. As far as I am personally concerned, I cannot help considering Freud as one of the most progressive disciples of his own teachings, while the apostates of his doctrine appear to me as prematurely aged reactionaries.

Equipped with devious excuses and devices, these apostates deserted the paths of Freud’s teachings—paths that require the courage of the born pioneer—to return to the broad and beaten paths of orthodox psychology and biology.

May I not once more quote myself in this connection?

On December 28, 1926, speaking before the Mid-winter meeting of the American Psychoanalytical Association, I said:

It is a great mistake to gauge the age of a person by the number of years he has lived. To remain productive and to be capable of changing one’s opinions is to stay young. Both of these attributes are highly characteristic of Professor Freud, as his latest works attest. One finds nothing in them of stagnation in dogmatic assertions or of exhaustion of the fantasy. Against his own earlier theses he is perhaps often too unsparing, and the breadth of his perspective often exceeds everything which he has created in the past.

In conclusion, I wish to express the hope that this book will assist in dissipating an erroneous belief prevalent in certain circles. It appears that the general public have a decided tendency to confound Freud’s teachings and psychoanalysis, as such, with the subject of sex. “According to Freud there is only one causa movens, and that is sex!” is one of their mis-statements.

Of course, faithful students of Freud’s teachings will never arrive at such fallacious deductions. True, the attentive reader of this book will find that Freud, as far as sex is concerned, allots to this instinct more importance than the prudery and hypocrisy of present-day society is ready to grant it. But, ever and again, Freud emphasizes the mastering of urges—not by repression, to be sure, but by elimination of all that which appears logically, ethically, and æsthetically undesirable.

DR. S. FERENCZI. Budapest, Hungary.

New York, September 1927.

THE PROBLEM OF LAY-ANALYSES

It appears to me that the title of this treatise may require an explanation. Let me, therefore, state that the problem of Lay-Analyses expresses itself most succinctly in the question of whether medically untrained laymen should be permitted to practise psychoanalysis.

This problem, timely in general, is subject to national laws.

It is a timely question, in so far as, up to now, apparently nobody ever cared who was practising psychoanalysis. As a matter of fact, too little attention was paid to the question into whose hands the employment of this new science was entrusted, with unanimity prevailing only in reference to a more or less strong tendency to wish that nobody at all should practise psychoanalysis. There were different reasons for this well-nigh general aversion.

The demand, then, now put before the legislatures of certain countries, that only physicians be permitted to apply psychoanalysis proves that, after all, a new, and apparently more tolerant opinion is becoming prevalent, as regards the recognition of our science. This new trend of putting the stamp of official and scientific approval on psychoanalysis, by reserving the monopoly of its application to medically trained men, must, however, first successfully clear itself of any and all suspicion of being nothing other than just a modification of the resistance hitherto shown towards psychoanalysis. Today, at last, it is admitted that, under certain circumstances, psychoanalytical treatment is in order. However, if it is to be applied, certain countries stand ready to impose the restriction that licensed physicians only shall be permitted to administer this treatment.

The problem before us right now, then, is why only physicians should be permitted to practise psychoanalysis. This is a problem subject to national laws. In the United States and Germany, for example, this problem does not amount to more than just an academic discussion, because in these countries a patient may receive treatment from anybody he chooses. In these countries, anybody who feels the inclination may treat, as a “quack” to be sure, “cases,” provided he stands ready to assume full responsibility for the effect of his treatment. Not before the authorities are actually appealed to to retaliate for such tangible harm as a patient may have suffered from the hands of an unlicensed practitioner of psychoanalysis, does the law interfere in the United States, Germany and many other countries.

In Austria, however, where I am writing this treatise, bearing in mind the special conditions which prevail there, in regard to the administration of psychoanalytical treatment, the authorities employ the law of the country as a preventive. In my country, without considering ultimate results, the law, in sweeping restrictions, enjoins all and sundry laymen from treating ailing people.

In the Republic of Austria, therefore, there is a very practical aspect to the question of whether laymen should be permitted to treat ailing people with psychoanalysis. As a matter of fact, under present conditions, this question seems to be settled since it is already answered by the wording of the law, now appearing on the statutes of my country: Nervous people are unquestionably sick people; laymen are doubtlessly no licensed physicians; psychoanalysis is a remedy for the healing, or improvement, of nervous disorders. As in the eyes of the law, the latter are considered diseases and the treatment of all such ailments reserved for licensed physicians exclusively, laymen are liable to severe punishment when employing psychoanalysis for the treatment of nervous people.

In view of this plain state of affairs, one scarcely dares to approach the question of permitting the laity to practise psychoanalysis in Austria. However, in spite of the obviousness of the situation as a whole, there are some additional aspects to the question which, albeit the law does not take cognisance of them, should nevertheless be considered.

It may develop that in connection with psychoanalysis, people in need of treatment are not sick people, in the broad meaning of this term; laymen not always to be considered laymen, nor physicians what physicians are generally supposed to be—the very premise upon which these physicians base their claims. If such a state of affairs becomes apparent, it would be justifiable to insist upon a modification of the law, prohibiting the unlicensed practise of medicine, as far as the application of psychoanalytic treatment is concerned.

Whether this modification shall be enacted as a law will depend mostly on people who may not be expected to know the peculiarities of analytical treatment. It will be our task, therefore, to instruct these impartial referees, these typical laymen whom we will assume, for the time being, are completely uninformed. It is regrettable that we cannot arrange for them to attend an analytical treatment in the rôle of an observer. It is one of the peculiarities of the “analytical situation” that it will not suffer the presence of a third party.

Moreover, individual sessions are liable to be very unequal, as regards the information they may yield. Mr. Referee happening in at an analytical session, would probably not profit to any great extent. As a matter of fact, he might altogether misinterpret that which is discussed between the analyst and the patient. He may even become downright bored with the proceedings. Therefore Mr. Referee must needs be satisfied with the information we shall presently impart to him, endeavoring to set it forth as lucidly as possible.

Let us assume that the patient is suffering from attacks of moodiness, which he is unable to control, or else is the victim of a despondency so depressing as to paralyse his energy, causing him to lose all confidence in himself, manifesting extreme self-consciousness when among strangers. Without grasping the underlying elements of his case, the patient may observe that not only the discharge of his daily duties becomes more and more arduous for him, but also that he experiences difficulties when called upon to make a decision or embark upon some enterprise.

One day—utterly ignorant of the exact cause—he succumbs to an attack of fear. From then on, he is unable to cross a street alone, or board a train, without fighting off a certain inarticulate fear. This condition, as a matter of fact, may even become so pronounced as to render it absolutely impossible for him to cross a street, or board a train, unaccompanied.

Or—what appears very peculiar to him—his thoughts “wander”; they are no longer subject to his will. They attach themselves to problems which, in reality, do not interest him at all but which he is, nevertheless, unable to dismiss from his mind. He imposes perfectly ludicrous tasks upon himself, such as counting the windows along the street. When attending to simple functions, such as mailing a letter or turning off the gas, doubts harass him a few moments later, as to whether he has really dropped the letter into the mail box and whether he actually turned off the gas.

Perhaps such a condition is merely annoying at first, but it becomes intolerable when, in advanced stages, it proves impossible to shake off such preposterous ideas as having flung a child under the wheels of a car, or thrown somebody from a bridge into the river, or being haunted by the terrifying doubt of whether he is not in reality the murderer the police are trying to apprehend for the latest spectacular crime.