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Horney—New Ways
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To: Stefan Kac <stefankac@yahoo.com>
IO
INTRODUCTION
potentially menacing. Because of his dread of potential
dangers
the child must develop certain
"neurotic
trends"
permitting him to cope with the world with
some measure of safety. Narcissistic, masochistic, per-
fectionistic trends seen in this light are not derivatives
of instinctual forces, but represent primarily an indi
vidual's attempt to find paths through a wilderness full
of unknown dangers. The manifest anxiety in neuroses
is then not the expression of the
"ego's" fear of being
overwhelmed by the onslaught of instinctual drives or
of being punished by a hypothetical
"super-ego," but
is the result of the specific safety devices' failure to
operate.
The influence these basic changes in viewpoint have
on individual psychoanalytical concepts will be dis-
cussed in successive chapters. It suffices here to point out
a few general implications:
Sexual problems, although they may sometimes pre-
vail in the symptomatic picture, are no longer consid-
ered to be in the dynamic center of neuroses. Sexual
difficulties are the effect rather than the cause of the
neurotic character structure.
Moral problems on the other hand gain in impor-
tance. To take at their face value those moral problems
with which the patient is ostensibly struggling ("super.
ego,"
neurotic guilt feelings) appears to lead to a blind
alley. They are pseudo-moral problems and have to be
uncovered as such. But it also becomes necessary to help
the patient to face squarely the true moral problems
involved in every neurosis and to take a stand toward
them.
Finally, when the
"ego" is no longer regarded as an


INTRODUCTION
11
organ merely executing or checking instinctual drives,
such human faculties as will power, judgment, decisions
are reinstated in their dignity. The
"ego"
Freud de-
scribes then appears to be not a universal but a neurotic
phenomenon. The warping of the spontaneous indi-
vidual self must then be recognized as a paramount
factor in the genesis and maintenance of neuroses.
Neuroses thus represent a peculiar kind of struggle
for life under difficult conditions. Their very essence
consists of disturbances in the relations to self and
others, and conflicts arising on these grounds. The shift
in emphasis as to the factors considered relevant in
neuroses enlarges considerably the tasks of psychoanalyt-
ical therapy. The aim of therapy is then not to help
the patient to gain mastery over his instincts but to
lessen his anxiety to such an extent that he can dispense
with his
"neurotic trends." Beyond this aim there looms
an entirely new therapeutic goal, which is to restore the
individual to himself, to help him regain his sponta-
neity and find his center of gravity in himself.
It is said that the writer himself profits most through
writing a book. I know that I have benefited through
writing this one. The necessity to formulate thoughts
has greatly helped me to clarify them. Whether others
will profit, no one knows in advance. I suppose there
are many analysts and psychiatrists who have experi
enced my uncertainties as to the validity of many theo
retical contentions. I do not expect them to accept my
formulations in their entirety, for these are neither
complete nor final. Nor are they meant to be the
beginning of a new psychoanalytical
"school."
I hope,
however, that they are sufficiently clearly presented to


18
NEW WAYS IN PSYCHOANALYSIS
What then are the constructive and-if I may venture
to predict further development-the imperishable values
Freud has given to psychology and psychiatry? To make
a sweeping statement: nothing of importance in the
field of psychology and psychotherapy has been done
since Freud's fundamental findings without those find.
ings being used as a directive for observation and think-
ing; when they have been discarded the value of new
findings has been decreased.
One of the difficulties in presenting the basic con-
cepts is that they are often entangled in doctrines which
are debatable. In order to point out the essential con-
tent of these concepts it is necessary to divest them of
certain theoretical implications. Hence what may look
like a popular presentation is a purposeful attempt to
elucidate the elementary principles.
I regard as the most fundamental and most significant
'of Freud's findings his doctrines that psychic processes
are strictly determined, that actions and feelings may
be determined by unconscious motivations and that the
motivations driving us are emotional forces. As these
doctrines are interrelated, one may start more or less
arbitrarily with any one of them. Still, it seems to me
that the doctrine of unconscious motivations, if taken
seriously, deserves first place. It belongs among those
concepts which are generally accepted but which, in
their implications, are often not fully understood. Prob
ably to anyone who has not had the experience of dis-
covering within himself attitudes or goals whose power
he was unaware of, this concept is difficult to grasp.
It is contended by critics of psychoanalysis that in
reality we never uncover material which was entirely


20
NEW WAYS IN PSYCHOANALYSIS
arity. He was also unaware that certain of his important
reactions and inhibitions were in some way connected
with it; nor, of course, did he know why he had to be
always right. This means that the patient was not aware
of all that was important on that score.
Objections to the concept of unconscious motivations
are made from a much too formalistic standpoint.
Awareness of an attitude comprises not only the knowl-
edge of its existence but also the knowledge of its
forcefulness and influence and the knowledge of its
consequences and the functions which it serves. If this
is missing it means that the attitude was unconscious,
even though at times glimpses of knowledge may have
reached awareness. The further objection that we never
discover any truly unconscious trends is in numerous
instances contradicted by fact. Consider, for instance, a
patient whose conscious attitude to others is that of
liking them indiscriminately. Our assertion that he does
not like them but that he only feels obliged to do so
may strike home at once; his feeling is that he was al-
ways dimly aware of this, but did not dare recognize
it. Even our further suggestion that his prevailing feel-
ing for others is contempt may not impress him as an
entirely new revelation; he knew that occasionally he
despised others, without realizing, however, the depth
and extent of such feelings. But our added assertion
that the contempt was the result of tendencies to dis-
parage others may strike him as entirely alien.
The importance of Freud's concept of unconscious
motivations lies not in the statement that unconscious
processes exist, but in two particular aspects of it. The
first is that to thrust strivings out of awareness, or not


FUNDAMENTALS
21
to admit them into awareness, does not prevent them
from existing and from being effective. This means, for
example, that we may be disgruntled or depressed with-
out knowing why; that we may make our most impor-
tant decisions without knowing the real motivations;
that our interests, our convictions, our attachments may
be determined by forces which we do not know. The
other aspect, if divested of certain theoretical implica-
tions, is that unconscious motivations remain uncon-
scious because we are interested in not becoming aware
of them. Compressed into this general formula, the
latter doctrine contains the key to both a practical and
a theoretical understanding of psychic phenomena. It
implies that if an attempt is made to unearth uncon-
scious motivations we will have to put up a struggle
because some interest of ours is at stake. This, in suc-
cinct terms, is the concept of
"resistance"
which is of
paramount value for therapy. Differences in viewpoint
as to the nature of those interests which bar drives from
consciousness are of comparatively lesser importance.
It was only after Freud had recognized unconscious
processes and their effects that he was able to arrive at
another basic conviction which has since proved to be
most constructive: the working hypothesis that psychic
processes are as strictly determined as physical processes.
It permitted the tackling of psychic manifestations
which had hitherto been regarded as incidental, mean-
ingless or mysterious, such as dreams, fantasies, errors
of everyday life. It encouraged the venture into a psy-
chological understanding of phenomena which hitherto
had been ascribed to organic stimuli, for example, the


FUNDAMENTALS
23
an escape into fantasy and a thorough devaluation of
an unbearable reality situation. When keeping in mind,
however, the doctrine that psychic processes are deter-
mined, we are able to recognize that some specific factor
or combination of factors must be lacking in our under-
standing, as we see other patients with a generally simi-
lar structure who do not develop feelings of unreality.
The same applies to the evaluation of quantitative
factors. If, for example, an insignificant provocation,
such as a slightly impatient tone in our voice, leads to
a considerable increase in the patient's anxiety, then the
disproportion between cause and effect will raise in
the analyst's mind questions like these: if a slight and
momentary impatience on our part can elicit such
intense anxiety, then it may be that the patient feels
basically uncertain about our attitude toward him; what
accounts for this degree of uncertainty? Why is our atti-
tude toward him of such paramount importance? Does
he perhaps feel utterly dependent on us and if so, why?
Is as great an uncertainty present in all his relationships
or are there particular factors which have enhanced it
in his relation to us? In short, the working hypothesis
that psychic processes are strictly determined gives us
a definite lead and encourages us to penetrate more
deeply into psychological connections.
The third basic principle of psychoanalytical think-
ing, implied in part in the two already mentioned, has
been called the dynamic concept of personality. More
accurately, it is the general assumption that the moti-
vations for our attitudes and behavior lie in emotional
forces, and the specific assumption that in order to


24
NEW WAYS IN PSYCHOANALYSIS
understand any personality structure we must recognize
emotional drives of conflicting character.
As to the general assumption, it is scarcely necessary
to point out its constructive value and its infinite superi-
ority over psychologies dealing with rational motiva-
tions, conditioned reflexes and habit formations. Ac-
cording to Freud, these driving forces are instinctual in
nature: sexual or destructive. If, however, we discard
these theoretical aspects, and for "libido"
substitute
emotional drives, impulses, needs or passions, we see the
essential kernel of the assumption and can appreciate
its value in creating an understanding of personality.
The more specific assumption of the importance of
inner conflicts has become the key to an understanding
of neuroses. The debatable part of this finding concerns
the nature of the conflicts involved. For Freud the con-
flicts are between the
"instincts" and the
"ego." He has
entangled his theory of instincts with his concept of
conflicts, and this combination has been subject to vio-
lent attacks. I too consider Freud's instinctivistic orien-
tation as one of the greatest handicaps to psychoana-
lytical development. What has happened under the
stress of these polemics, however, is that the emphasis
has been shifted from the essential part of the concept-
the central role of conflicts--to the debatable part, the
theory of instincts. It is not expedient now to explain
at length why I ascribe fundamental importance to this
concept, but it will be elaborated throughout the book
that even when dropping the whole theory of instincts
the fact still remains that neuroses are essentially the
result of conflicts. To have seen this in spite of the


FEMININE PSYCHOLOGY
107
relation to others is merely a radiation from their rela-
tion to men.
Finally, as to dream symbols, any expression of wishes
for masculinity is taken at its face value instead of being
regarded skeptically for a possible deeper meaning.
This procedure is contrary to the customary analytical
attitude and can be ascribed only to the determining
power of theoretical preconceptions.
Another source feeding the analyst's conviction of the
significance of penis-envy lies not in himself but in his
women patients. While some women patients are not
impressed by interpretations which point to penis-envy
as the origin of their troubles, others take them up
readily and quickly learn to talk about their difficulties
in terms of femininity and masculinity, or even to
dream in symbols fitting this kind of thinking. These
are not necessarily patients who are particularly gullible.
Every experienced analyst will notice whether a patient
is docile and suggestible and by analyzing these trends
will diminish errors springing from that source. And
some patients view their problems in terms of mascu-
linity and femininity without any suggestion from the
analyst, for naturally one cannot exclude the influence
of literature. But there is a deeper reason why many
patients gladly seize upon explanations offered in terms
of penis-envy: these explanations present comparatively
harmless and simple solutions. It is so much easier for
a woman to think that she is nasty to her husband
because, unfortunately, she was born without a penis
and envies him for having one than to think, for in-
stance, that she has developed an attitude of righteous-
ness and infallibility which makes it impossible to toler


d
108
NEW WAYS IN PSYCHOANALYSIS
ate any questioning or disagreement. It is so much easier
for a patient to think that nature has given her an
unfair deal than to realize that she actually makes ex-
cessive demands on the environment and is furious
whenever they are not complied with. It seems thus that
the theoretical bias of the analyst may coincide with the
patient's tendency to leave her real problems un-
touched.
If wishes for masculinity may screen repressed drives,
what then renders them fit to serve in this way?
Here we come to see cultural factors. The wish to
be a man, as Alfred Adler has pointed out, may be
the expression of a wish for all those qualities or privi-
leges which in our culture are regarded as masculine,
such as strength, courage, independence, success, sexual
freedom, right to choose a partner. To avoid misunder-
standing let me state explicitly that I do not mean to
say that penis-envy is nothing but a symbolic expression
of the wish to have the qualities regarded as masculine
in our culture. This would not be plausible, because
wishes to have these qualities need not be repressed and
hence do not require a symbolic expression. A symbolic
expression is necessary only for tendencies or feelings
shoved out of awareness.
What then are the repressed strivings which are cov-
ered up by the wish for masculinity? The answer is not
an all-embracing formula but must be discovered from
an analysis of each patient and each situation. In order
to discover the repressed strivings it is necessary not
to take at face value a woman's tendency in one way or
another to base her inferiority feelings on the fact that
she is a woman; rather it must be pointed out to her


FEMININE PSYCHOLOGY
109
that every person belonging to a minority group or to
a less privileged group tends to use that status as a
cover for inferiority feelings of various sources, and that
the important thing is to try to find out these sources.
According to my experience, one of the most frequent
and effective sources is a failure to live up to certain
inflated notions about the self, notions which in turn
are necessary because various unrecognized pretenses
have to be covered up.
Furthermore, it is necessary to bear in mind the
possibility that the wish to be a man may be a screen
for repressed ambition. In neurotic persons ambition
may be so destructive that it becomes loaded with
anxiety and hence has to be repressed. This is true of
men as well as of women but as a result of the cultural
situation a repressed destructive ambition in a woman
may express itself in the comparatively harmless symbol
of a wish to be a man. What is required of psychoanaly-
sis is to uncover the egocentric and destructive elements
in the ambition and to analyze not only what led up
to this kind of ambition but also what consequences it
has for the personality in the way of inhibitions to love,
inhibitions to work, envy of competitors, self-belittling
tendencies, fear of failure and of success.* The wish to
be a man drops out of the patient's associations as soon
as we tackle the underlying problems of her ambition
and exalted opinion about what she is or should be.
It is then no longer possible for her to hide behind the
symbolic screen of masculinity wishes.
In short, interpretations in terms of penis-envy bar
* Cf. Karen Horney, The Neurotic Personality of Our Time (1937)
chs. 10-12.


DEATH INSTINCT
131
motivation for hostility or destructiveness lies in the
impulse to destroy. Thus he turns into its opposite our
belief that we destroy in order to live: we live in order
to destroy. We should not shrink from recognizing error
even in an age-old conviction if new insight teaches us
to see it differently, but this is not the case here. If we
want to injure or to kill, we do so because we are or
feel endangered, humiliated, abused; because we are or
feel rejected and treated unjustly; because we are or
feel interfered with in wishes which are of vital impor-
tance to us. That is, if we wish to destroy, it is in order
to defend our safety or our happiness or what appears
to us as such. Generally speaking, it is for the sake of
life and not for the sake of destruction.
The theory of a destruction instinct is not only un-
substantiated, not only contradictory to facts, but is
positively harmful in its implications. In regard to
psychoanalytical therapy it implies that making a pa-
tient free to express his hostility is an aim in itself, be-
cause, in Freud's contention, a person does not feel at
ease if the destruction instinct is not satisfied. It is true
that to the patient who has repressed his accusations,
his egocentric demands, his impulses of revenge, it is
a relief if he can express these impulses. But if analysts
took Freud's theory seriously, a wrong emphasis would
have to ensue. The main task is not to free these im-
pulses for expression but to understand their reasons
and, by removing the underlying anxiety, remove the
necessity of having them. Furthermore, the theory helps
to maintain the confusion that exists between what is
essentially destructive and what essentially pertains to


"EGO"
AND
"'ID''
187
Since he is less anxiety-ridden and hence less subject to
the power of unconscious drives than the neurotic,
Freud's conclusions for him are all the less warranted.
Thus in his concept of the
"'ego"
Freud denies-and
on the basis of the libido theory must deny-_that there
are any judgments or feelings which are not dissolvable
into more elemental
"'instinctual" units. In general his
concept means that on theoretical grounds any judg-
ments about people or causes must be regarded as ra-
tionalizations of
"deeper"
emotional motivations, that
any critical stand toward a theory must be viewed as an
ultimately emotional resistance. It means that theoreti
cally there is no liking or disliking of people, no sym-
pathy, no generosity," no feeling of justice, no devotion
to a cause, which is not in the last analysis essentially
determined by libidinal or destructive drives.
The denial that mental faculties may exist in their
own right fosters insecurity of judgment; for example,
it may lead analyzed people not to take a stand toward
anything without making the reservation that probably
their judgment is merely an expression of unconscious
preferences or dislikes. It may also encourage the illu-
sion that a superior knowledge of human nature con-
sists in detecting ulterior motives in every judgment or
feeling-of others!-and thereby contribute to a smug
know-it-all attitude.
Another consequence is that it promotes uncertainty
about feelings and thus involves the danger of render-
" In the paper mentioned above Freud declares, when speaking of
observations that generous people may surprise us by some isolated
trend of miserliness,
"they show that every praiseworthy and valuable
quality is based on compensation and overcompensation"
(italics mine)


188
NEW WAYS IN PSYCHOANALYSIS
ing them shallow. A more or less conscious awareness of
"it is only because"
will easily jeopardize the sponta-
neity and the depth of emotional experiences. Hence
the frequent impression that although an analyzed indi-
vidual is better adapted he has become
"less of a real
person,"
or as one might say, less alive.
The observations of such effects as these is sometimes
used to perpetuate the time-honored fallacy that too
much awareness makes a person futilely
"'introspective."
What accounts for such
"introspectiveness," however, is
not the greater awareness as such, but the implicit be-
lief in the omnipresence of motivations which are gen-
erally regarded as inferior. Freud himself regards them
as inferior in value, though he wishes to consider them
from the viewpoint of science and emphasize that they
are as far beyond moral evaluation as is the instinct
compelling a salmon to swim upstream during the time
of ovulation. As often happens, the zest in pursuing a
new finding which is valid may lead to carrying it to
a point where it loses its validity. Freud has taught us
to make a skeptical scrutiny of our motivations; he has
demonstrated the far-reaching influence of unconscious
egocentric and anti-social drives. But it is merely dog-
matic to assert, for instance, that a judgment cannot be
simply the expression of what one holds to be right or
wrong, that one cannot be devoted to a cause because
one is convinced of its value, that friendliness cannot
be a direct expression of good human relationships.
It is often regretted in psychoanalytical literature that
we know little about the
"ego" in comparison with our
extensive knowledge concerning the
"id."
This defi-
ciency is attributed to the historical development of


CONCEPT OF
"'SUPER-EGO"
213
themselves with self-recriminations. But this observa-
tion, apart from the fact that it too can be interpreted
differently, does not warrant generalization. There are
many contradictory data: neurotics who even on the
surface are just as exacting toward others as toward
themselves, just as contemptuous of others as they are
of themselves, just as ready to condemn others as they
are to condemn themselves. What about all the cruel-
ties, for example, which are committed in the name of
moral or religious demands?
If the neurotic need for perfection is not the result
of a postulated forbidding agency, then what is its mean-
ing? Freud's interpretations, although debatable, never-
theless entail a constructive lead; this is their implica-
tion that the strivings for perfection lack genuineness.
If I may use a slang expression, there is something fishy
about the moral pursuits. Alexander has elaborated this
aspect in pointing out that the neurotic's pursuit of
moral goals is too formalistic and that it has a pharisaic,
hypocritical character.
Those who seem to be driven by a relentless need for
perfection only go through the motions of exercising
the virtues they pretend to have.* When anyone who
8 Franz Alexander, Psychoanalysis of the Total Personality (1935).
4 The most famous expression of the difference between a formalistic
fulfillment of the law and a wholehearted one is in the first letter of
Paul to the Corinthians:
Though I speak with the tongues of men
and of angels, and have not charity, I am become as sounding brass, or
a tinkling cymbal. And though I have the gift of prophecy, and under-
stand all mysteries, and all knowledge; and though I have all faith, so
that I could remove mountains, and have not charity, I am nothing.
And though I bestow all my goods to feed the poor, and though 1
give my body to be burned, and have not charity, it profiteth me
nothing" (I Corinthians XIII 1-3).


214
NEW WAYS IN PSYCHOANALYSIS
seriously wants to achieve something notices within him-
self obstacles to his goal he is willing to go to the root
of the evil so that he may eventually overcome it; for
instance, if he finds himself irritable at times, without
any good reason, he will first try to control his irritabil-
ity, and if that is ineffectual he will make constructive
efforts to find out what trends within his personality are
responsible for it and will try to change them if possible.
Not so the neurotic type we are speaking of. He will
start by minimizing his irritability or by putting it on
a justified basis. These ways failing, he will scold him-
self mercilessly for his attitude. He will try hard to con-
trol it. Not succeeding in controlling it, he will scold
himself for his insufficient self-control. But there his ef-
forts stop. It will never occur to him that something can
be wrong with him which engenders irritability. Hence
nothing ever changes, and this play repeats itself end.
lessly.
When he is analyzed he will realize the futility of his
efforts, though reluctantly. He may politely and intel-
lectually follow the analyst's suggestions that the irrita-
tions are only bubbles coming to the surface. But as
soon as the analyst puts his finger on one of the deeper
disturbances he will react with a mixture of concealed
irritation and diffuse anxiety, and soon will argue most
cleverly that the analyst is wrong, that at least he is
exaggerating grossly; and he may end by again con-
demning his failure to control his irritations. This re-
action may repeat itself for each deeper problem that is
touched upon, and no matter how gingerly it is done.
Thus not only do these types lack the incentive to
probe, to go to the roots of a disturbance, to really


CONCEPT OF
"'SUPER-EGO"
215
change, but they are positively opposed to it. They have
no wish to be analyzed, but loathe it. If it were not for
certain gross symptoms such as phobias, hypochondriac
fears and the like, they would never come to analysis,
no matter how great their character difficulties actually
are. When they do come for treatment they want to
have their symptoms removed without their personality
being touched.
The conclusion I draw from these observations is
that the type in question is driven not by a need for
an
"ever-increasing perfection,
as Freud assumes, but
by a need to maintain the appearance of perfection. Ap-
pearance in whose eyes? The first impression is that this
type must primarily appear right to himself. He may
castigate himself indeed for shortcomings, regardless of
whether or not they are noticed by others. He is osten-
sibly comparatively independent of people. It is this


"super-ego,"
though originally arising from infantile
love, hatred and fear, eventually became an autono.
mous intrapsychic representation of moral prohibitions.
It is true that these types show a marked trend toward
independence as appears clearly when they are com-
pared with types having prevailingly masochistic trends.
But it is an independence
born of defiance rather
than of inner strength, and for this very reason it is
largely spurious. Actually they are extremely dependent
on others-in their own specific way. Their feelings,
thoughts and actions are determined by what they feel
is expected of them, whether they react to such expec-
tations with compliance or defiance. Also they are de-
pendent on others' opinion about them. Here again the


216
NEW WAYS IN PSYCHOANALYSIS
dependency is specific; it is imperative for them that
their infallibility be recognized. Any dissension makes
them feel uneasy because it implies for them that their
righteousness is not beyond doubt. The façade of right-
ness which they are anxious to present is hence a pre-
-tense for the benefit of others as well as themselves.
When in the following I speak of the need to appear
perfect, it is a simplified expression for the need to ap-
pear perfect in one's own eyes as well as in those of
others.
This characteristic of pretense appears also, and often
more blatantly, in those compulsory needs for perfec-
tion which concern not moral issues but merely egocen-
tric goals, such as having to know everything, a phe-
nomenon which is frequent among intellectuals of our
time and can be observed easily. When such a type is
confronted with a question he cannot answer, he will
pretend to know it at any price, even though an admis-
sion of ignorance would in no way reflect on his intel-
lectual prestige. Or he will juggle merely formalistically
with scientific terms, methods and theories.
The whole concept of the "super-ego" is fundamen-
tally changed if we regard the individual's efforts as di-
rected toward a
66
pretense"
of perfection and infallibil-
ity, which for some reason it is necessary to maintain.
The
"super-ego"
is then no longer a special agency
within the
"ego" but it is a special need of the indi-
vidual. It is not the advocate of moral perfection, but
expresses the neurotic's need to keep up appearances of
perfection.
To some extent everyone living in an organized com-
munity must keep up appearances. To some extent


CONCEPT OF "'SUPER-EGO"
217
every one of us has imbibed the standards of the en-
vironment. To some extent we are all dependent on
the regard others have for us.5 What happens, however,
in the type we are considering is-allowing a little ex-
aggeration-that a human being turns altogether into a
façade. It simply does not matter what he himself wants,
likes, dislikes, values. The only thing which matters is
to measure up to expectations and standards and to ful-
fill duties.
The compulsion to appear perfect may pertain to
whatever is valued in a given culture: orderliness, clean-
lines, punctuality, conscientiousness, efficiency, intel-
lectual or artistic achievements, rationality, generosity,
tolerance, unselfishness. The kind of perfection which
a particular individual will emphasize depends on vari-
ous factors, such as: his inherent capacities; the persons
or qualities which have impressed him favorably in
childhood; the environmental inadequacies which he
suffered as a child and which made him determined to
do better; his actual possibilities to excel; the kind of
anxieties against which he has to protect himself by
being perfect.
How are we to understand such a stringent need to
appear perfect?
As to its genesis, Freud has given us a general lead
in pointing out that the tendency starts in childhood
and that it has something to do with the prohibitions of
5 Among others, W. James and C. G. Jung have emphasized this fact
when pointing out that everyone has a
'"social self" James) or a
"'per-
sona"
(Jung).


228
NEW WAYS IN PSYCHOANALYSIS
safety, the individual must hang on to others in a mas-
ochistic way. The
"super-ego,
99
however it be under-
stood, is thus relevant in provoking repression but ac-
cording to my views it is but one important factor
among others.'
As to the power of the
"super-ego"
which enables it
to engender repressions, Freud ascribes it mainly to the
self-destruction instinct. In my opinion the phenom-
enon is as powerful as it is mainly for the reason that
it constitutes a mighty bulwark against underlying anxi-
ety. Therefore, like other neurotic trends, it has to be
maintained at any price.
Freud believes that it is instinctual drives which, be-
cause of their anti-social character, succumb to repres-
sion by the
"super-ego." If for the sake of clarity I may
express it in naïve moral terms, it is in Freud's opinion
the bad, the evil in man that is repressed. This doctrine
undoubtedly contains one of Freud's striking discov-
eries. But I should like to suggest a more flexible formu-
lation: what is repressed depends on the kind of façade
an individual feels forced to present; everything is re-
pressed which does not fit into the façade. A person, for
instance, may feel free to indulge in obscene thoughts
and actions or to have death wishes against many peo-
ple, but may repress any wish for personal gain. The
difference I suggest in formulation has no great prac-
tical importance, however. The façade will roughly co-
incide with what is regarded as
"good," and hence what
is repressed on its behalf will mostly coincide with what
is regarded as
"'bad"
or
"inferior."
• Cf. Franz Alexander's significant paper on "The Relation of Struc
tural and Instinctual Conflicts" in Psychoanalytic Quarterly (1933).


CONCEPT OF
"'SUPER-EGO"
229
There is, however, another more significant differ-
ence concerning the factors which are repressed. Briefly,
the necessity to maintain a certain façade leads not only
to repressing
"'bad."
" anti-social, egocentric, "instinctual"
drives, but also to repressing the most valuable, the most
alive factors in a human being, such as spontaneous
wishes, spontaneous feelings, individual judgment and
the like. Freud has seen this fact but not its significance.
He has seen, for example, that people may repress not
only greediness but also their legitimate wishes. But he
has explained this by pointing out that it is not in our
power to delineate the extent of a repression: while
what was meant to be repressed' was only greediness,
legitimate wishes are carried away with it. To be sure,
this may happen; but there also exists a repression of
valuable qualities as such. They must be repressed be-
cause they would endanger the façade.
Thus, in summary, the neurotic's need to appear per-
fect leads to repressing, first, everything that does not
fit into his particular façade and, second, everything
that would render it impossible for him to maintain
that façade.
In view of the painful consequences engendered by
the need to appear perfect it is understandable why
Freud contended that the
"super-ego" is an essentially
anti-self agency. But according to my point of view what
seems to be aggression against the self is an unavoidable
result, as long as an individual feels it imperative to be
infallible.
Freud regards the
"super-ego" as the inner represent-
ative of moral demands and particularly of moral pro


CONCEPT OF
"'SUPER-EGO"
231
his standards under the stress of fear for the sake
of peace. He complies with them formalistically but
with inner opposition. For example, he is superficially
friendly to people but feels this attitude-unconsciously
-as a burdensome imposition. Only after his friendli-
ness has lost its compulsory character can he start to
consider whether perhaps he himself would like to be
friendly to others.
There are indeed moral problems involved in the
neurotic need for perfection, but they are not the ones
with which the patient is
apparently struggling nor
those which he pretends to have. The real moral issues
lie in the insincerity, the haughtiness and the refined
cruelty which are inseparable from the structure that
has been described. The patient is not responsible for
these traits; he could not help their developing. But in
analysis he has to face them, not because it is the an-
alyst's business to improve his morals, but because he
suffers from them: they interfere with a good relation-
ship with others and with himself and they prevent his
best possible development.
Though this part of the
analysis is particularly painful and upsetting to the pa-
tient, it is also the one which may give the most intense
relief. William James has said that to give up preten-
sions is as blessed a relief as to have them gratified;
judging from observations in analysis the relief result-
ing from giving them up seems to be the greater of the
two.


244
NEW WAYS IN PSYCHOANALYSIS
taken for a feeling of unworthiness born of a feeling of
guilt. But it is not so much my intention to give an
exhaustive presentation of the underlying dynamics as
to illustrate the one point that not all manifestations
suggestive of guilt feelings are actually to be interpreted
in that way: there may be a counterfeit feeling of guilt,
and no guilt; and there may be a response-such as fear,
humiliation, anger, determination to ward off criticism,
inability to reproach others, need to fix somewhere the
blame for adverse happenings--which has nothing to
do with remorse and is interpreted in that way only
because of theoretical preconceptions.
My difference from Freud in regard to the
"super-
ego"
and guilt feelings entails a different approach to
therapy. Freud regards unconscious guilt feelings as an
obstacle to a cure of severe neuroses, as elaborated in
his theory of the negative therapeutic reaction.« Accord-
ing to my interpretation the difficulty in leading the
patient to acquire a real insight into his problems lies
in the seemingly impenetrable front he offers because
of his compulsory need to appear perfect. He comes to
psychoanalysis as a last resort, but he comes with the
conviction that at bottom he is all right, that he is
normal, that he is not really ill. He resents any kind
of interpretation which questions his motivations or
which shows him that there are problems, and at best
he follows only intellectually. He is so bound to appear
infallible that he has to deny any deficiency or even
• Sigmund Freud, New Introductory Lectures
on Psychoanalysis
(1933),
"The Economic Problem in Masochism" in Collected Papers,
Vol. I (1924), Beyond the Pleasure Principle (1920), and The Ego and
the Id (1935).


NEUROTIC GUILT FEELINGS
245
any problem existing in himself. With a certainty ap
proximating that of a real instinct his neurotic self-
recriminations avoid what are actually the weak points.
In fact their very function is to prevent him from facing
any real deficiencies. They are a perfunctory concession
to the existing goals, a mere means of reassurance that
he is not so bad after all and that his very qualms of
conscience make him better than others. They are a
face-saving device, for if a person really wishes to im-
prove and sees a possibility of doing so, he will not
waste time on self-recriminations; at any rate, he will
not feel that enough is accomplished by accusing him-
self; he will make constructive efforts toward under-
standing and changing. The neurotic, however, does
nothing but scold himself.
Thus what is necessary is first to show him that he
demands the impossible of himself, then to make him
realize the formalistic nature of his aims and his achieve-
ments. The disparity between his façade of perfection
and his actual trends has to be revealed. He has to
acquire a feeling that there is a problem in the strin.
gency of his perfectionistic needs. All the consequences
of these needs have to be worked through carefully.
His actual reactions to the analyst's questioning him,
wanting to find out something about him, have to be
analyzed. He has to understand the factors which cre-
ated the need and those which maintain it. He has to
understand the function it serves. He has to see, finally,
the real moral issue involved. This approach is more
difficult than the usual one but it allows a less pessi-
mistic view than Freud's concerning the possibilities of
therapy.


PSYCHOANALYTIG THERAPY
287
bility, however, rests on the analyst anyhow, and the
risk of making wrong suggestions and thereby losing
time is, according to experience, less than the risk en-
tailed in non-interference. When I feel uncertain about
a suggestion made to the patient I point out its tenta-
tive character. If then my suggestion is not to the point,
the fact that the patient feels that I too am searching
for a solution may elicit his active collaboration in cor-
recting or qualifying my suggestion.
The analyst should exercise a more deliberate influ-
ence not only on the direction of the patient's associa-
tions but also on those psychic forces which may help
him eventually to overcome his neurosis. The work the
patient has to accomplish is most strenuous and most
painful. It implies no less than relinquishing or greatly
modifying all the strivings for safety and satisfaction
which have hitherto prevailed. It implies relinquishing
illusions about himself which in his eyes have made him
significant. It implies putting his entire relations to
others and to himself on a different basis. What drives
the patient to do this hard work? Patients come for
analytical help because of different motivations and
with different expectations. Most frequently they want
to get rid of manifest neurotic disturbances. Sometimes
they wish to be better able to cope with certain situa-
tions. Sometimes they feel arrested in their development
and wish to overcome a dead point. Very rarely do they
come with the outright hope for more happiness. The
strength and constructive value of these motivations
vary in each patient, but all of them can be actively used
in effecting a cure.
One has to realize, however, that these driving forces


288
NEW WAYS IN PSYCHOANALYSIS
are not entirely what they seem." The patient wants to
achieve his ends on his own terms. He may wish to be
freed of suffering without his personality being touched.
His wish for greater efficiency or for a better develop-
ment of his talents is almost always determined largely
by an expectation that analysis will help to maintain
more perfectly his appearance of infallibility and su-
periority. Even his quest for happiness, in itself the
most effective of all motivations, cannot be taken at its
face value, because the happiness the patient has in
mind secretly entails the fulfillment of all his contra-
dictory neurotic wishes. During the analysis, however,
all of these motivations are reinforced. This occurs in a
very successful analysis without the analyst paying spe-
cial attention to it. But since their reinforcement, or we
might say their mobilization, is of paramount impor.
tance for effecting a cure, it is desirable for the analyst
to know what factors bring this about, and to conduct
the analysis in such a way as to make these factors op
erative.
In analysis the wish to become free from suffering
gains in strength, because, even though the patient's
symptoms may decrease, he gradually realizes how much
intangible suffering and how many handicaps his neu-
rosis entails. A painstaking elaboration of all the conse-
quences of the neurotic trends helps the patient to rec-
ognize them and to acquire a constructive discontent-
ment with himself.
Also, his desire to improve his personality is put on
a more solid basis as soon as his pretenses are removed.
5 Cf. H. Nunberg,
"Über den Genesungswunsch" in Internationale
Zeitschrift für Psychoanalyse (1925).


296
NEW WAYS IN PSYCHOANALYSIS
appointment, and the more he can direct his efforts into
rewarding channels.
Freud's doctrine is that moral problems, or value
judgments, are beyond the interest and competence of
psychoanalysis. Applied to therapy, this means that the
analyst has to practice tolerance. This attitude is in ac-
cordance with the claim of psychoanalysis that it is a
science, and also it reflects the principle of laissez-faire
which characterized a certain phase of the liberal era.
As a matter of fact, refraining from value judgments,
not daring to take the responsibility for making them,
is a widely spread characteristic of modern liberal man.°
The analyst's imperturbable tolerance is regarded as one
of the indispensable conditions which enable the pa-
tient to become aware of and eventually express re-
pressed impulses and reactions.
The first question which arises on this score is
whether it is possible to attain such tolerance. Is it pos-
sible for the analyst to be a mirror to the extent of
excluding his own valuations? We have seen, in discuss-
ing the cultural implications of neuroses, that this is an
ideal which cannot be carried through in reality. Since
neuroses involve questions of human behavior and hu-
man motivations, social and traditional evaluations in-
advertently determine the problems tackled and the
goal aimed at. Freud himself does not adhere strictly to
his ideal. He leaves no doubt in the patient's mind as
to his own position concerning, for instance, the value
• The sociological foundation of the psychoanalytical concept of
tolerance has been presented by Erich Fromm in "Die gesellschaftliche
Bedingtheit der psychoanalytischen Therapie," Zeitschrift für Sozial.
forschung(1935).


PSYCHOANALYTIC THERAPY
297
of the sexual morality which is current in present so-
city, or as to his belief that sincerity toward oneself is
a valuable goal. As a matter of fact, when he calls psy-
choanalysis a re-education Freud contradicts his own
ideal, succumbing to the illusion that education is con-
ceivable without at least implicit moral measuring rods
and goals.
Since the analyst has value judgments, even though
he may not be aware of having them, his professed tol-
erance does not convince the patient; the patient senses
the analyst's real attitude without its being explicitly
stated. He knows it from the way the analyst expresses
something, from the traits he does and does not regard
as undesirable. When, for instance, the analyst asserts
that guilt feelings concerning masturbation have to be
analyzed, he implies that he does not consider mastur.
bation as
"'bad"
and hence that it does not warrant guilt
feelings. An analyst who calls a patient's trend
"'spong-
ing,
" instead of referring to it simply as a tendency to
be
"receptive," implicitly conveys to the patient his
judgment about it.
Tolerance is thus an ideal which can be only approxi-
mated, not realized. The more careful the analyst is in
his choice of words, the more he will approximate it.
But is tolerance, in the sense of refraining from value
judgments, an ideal to be aimed at? The answer is ulti-
mately a matter of personal philosophy and personal
decision. My own opinion is that an absence of value
judgments belongs among those ideals we should try
rather to overcome than to cultivate. A limitless willing.
ness to understand the inner necessities forcing the neu-
rotic to develop and to maintain moral pretenses, para-


298
NEW WAYS IN PSYCHOANALYSIS
sitic desires, power drives and the like, does not prevent
my considering these attitudes as negative values inter.
fering with real happiness. I rather suspect that for me
the conviction that attitudes like these are something to
be overcome is one of the incentives to understand them
fully.
Concerning the value of this ideal for therapy, I ques-
tion whether it fulfills the expectations set on it.1 The
expectation is that the analyst's tolerance will allay the
patient's fear of condemnation and thereby elicit a
greater freedom of thought and expression.
Despite its apparent plausibility this expectation is
invalid because it does not consider the exact nature of
the patient's fear of condemnation. The patient is afraid
not that an objectionable trend in him will be consid-
ered inferior, but that his personality as a whole will be
condemned because of such a trend. Also he fears that
this condemnation will be merciless and without con-
sideration for what made him develop the undesirable
trend. Furthermore, while he may fear condemnation
for various special traits, his fear on the whole is indis-
criminate. His anticipation of being condemned for
everything he does is due partly to the intensity of his
fear of people, and partly to the fact that his own sys-
tem of values is unbalanced. He knows neither his real
values nor his real deficiencies, the former being repre-
sented in his mind by his illusory claims of perfection
and uniqueness, the latter being repressed. Hence he is
entirely insecure as to what he might be condemned
for; he does not know, for instance, whether it might be
for legitimate wishes concerning himself, for a critical
10 Cf. Erich Fromm,
"Die gesellschaftliche Bedingtheit der psycho
analytischen Therapie,
," Zeitschrift für Sozialforschung (1935).


PSYCHOANALYTIC THERAPY
299
attitude, for a sexual fantasy. In view of the fact that
the neurotic's fear is of this character there can scarcely
be any doubt that the analyst's pretense of objectivity
is not only incapable of allaying the fear but is on the
contrary bound to increase it. When the patient can
never be certain about the analyst's attitude, when, in
addition, he occasionally senses objections without their
being admitted, his fear of potential condemnation is
bound to be intensified.
Naturally, if these fears are to be banished they have
to be analyzed. What helps to allay them is the patient's
knowledge that the analyst, though considering certain
traits undesirable, does not condemn him as a whole.
Instead of tolerance, or rather pseudo-tolerance, there
should be a constructive friendliness, in which recogni
tion of certain deficiencies does not detract from the
capacity to admire good qualities and potentialities. In
therapy this does not mean a general patting the patient
on the back, but rather a willingness to give credit to
whatever good and genuine elements there are in a
trend, at the same time that its dubitable aspects are
pointed out. It is important, for instance, to distinguish
explicitly between a patient's good critical faculties and
the destructive use he makes of them, between his sense
of dignity and his haughtiness, between his genuine
friendliness-_if there is any_and his pretense of being
a particularly loving and generous person.
It might be objected here that all this does not matter
much because the patient sees the analyst only through
the spectacles of the emotions he has at a given time. It
must not be forgotten, however, that it is only one part
of the patient which sees the analyst as a dangerous


300
NEW WAYS IN PSYCHOANALYSIS
monster or a superior being. Certainly these feelings
may prevail at times, but there is another part always
present, though not always noticeable, which preserves
a clear feeling for reality. In later phases of the analysis
a patient may realize explicitly that he feels in two ways
about the analyst. He may say, for instance,
"I know for
certain that you like me and yet I feel as if you loathe
me." Hence the patient's familiarity with the analyst's
attitude is important not only for allaying his fear of
condemnation but also in order that he may recognize
his projections as such.
The history of psychiatry shows that as far back as
ancient Egypt or Greece there have been two concepts
of psychic disturbances: a medical scientific one and a
moral one. If we may make a broad statement the moral
concept has usually prevailed. It is to the merit of
Freud, and also of his contemporaries, to have gained
such a signal victory for the medical concept that-as it
seems to me--it can never be eradicated.
Nevertheless, our knowledge of cause and effect in
psychic ailments should not blind us to the fact that
they do involve moral problems. The neurotic often
develops particularly fine qualities, such as sympathy
for the suffering of others, understanding of their con-
flicts, detachment from traditional standards, refined
sensitivity to aesthetic and moral values, but he also de-
velops certain traits of dubitable value. As a result of
the fears, hostilities, feelings of weakness which are at
the bottom of neurotic processes and are reinforced by
them, he unavoidably becomes to some extent insincere,
supercilious, cowardly, egocentric. The fact that he is
not aware of these trends does not prevent them from


PSYCHOANALYTIG THERAPY
301
existing nor does it-and this is what matters to the
therapist-keep him from suffering from them.
The difference between our present attitude and that
which prevailed before psychoanalysis is that we regard
these problems now from another viewpoint. We have
learned that the neurotic is inherently as little lazy,
mendacious, grabbing, conceited, as anyone else, that
the adverse circumstances of his childhood have forced
him to build up an elaborate system of defenses and
gratifications resulting in the development of certain
unfavorable trends. Hence we do not consider him re-
sponsible for them. In other words, the contradiction
between the medical and the moral concepts of psychic
disturbances is less irreconcilable than it appeared to
be: the moral problems are an integral part of the ill-
ness. As a consequence we should regard as belonging
to our medical task the function of helping the patient
in the clarification of these problems.
That the role they factually play in neuroses is not
seen clearly in psychoanalysis is the result of certain
theoretical presuppositions, mainly those implicit in the
libido theory and the
"super-ego"
concept.
The moral problems actually presented are as a rule
pseudo-moral, for they belong to the patient's need to
appear perfect and superior in his own eyes. Hence the
first step is to uncover the moral pretenses and to recog.
nize their real functions for the patient.
His true moral problems, on the other hand, the pa-
tient is most anxious to hide. It is scarcely an exaggera-
tion to say that he hides them more anxiously than any.
thing else. The perfectionistic and narcissistic façade is
indispensable for the very reason that it serves as a