Comparative-Integrative Psychoanalysis

A Relational Perspective for the Discipline's Second Century

Brent Willock

• Publisher: Routledge
• Year: 2011
• ISBN:
  9781136871504
• Edition: 1
• Topic: Psychology
• Subtopic: Applied Psychology
• Index: Psychology

Finalist for the 2007 Goethe Award for Psychoanalytic Scholarship!

This exceptionally practical and insightful new text explores the emerging field of comparative-integrative psychoanalysis. It provides an invaluable framework for approaching the currently fractious state of the psychoanalytic discipline, divided as it is into diverse schools of thought, presenting many conceptual challenges. Moving beyond the usual borders of psychoanalysis, Willock usefully draws on insights from neighboring disciplines to shed additional light on the core issue.

Comparative-Integrative Psychoanalysis is divided into two sections for organizational clarity. Part I is an intriguing investigation into the nature of thought and its intrinsic problems. It convincingly builds a case for the need, after a century of disciplinary development, to move beyond delineated schools, and proposes a method for achieving this goal. The succeeding section elaborates this desideratum in detail, exploring its implications with respect to theory, organizations, practice, and pedagogy. This second portion of the volume is most applicable to everyday concerns with improving work in the field, be it in the consulting room, classroom, or in and between various psychoanalytic organizations.

II
THE COMPARATIVE INTEGRATIVE POINT OF VIEW

The best lack all convictions, while the worst Are full of passionate intensity. Surely some revelation is at hand.

—Yeats, “The Second Coming”

4
Implications for Psychoanalytic Theory (and Organizations)

The Skylark School

Argues with the Frog School

Each with its song.

—Shoha, 19th Century

ONE PSYCHOANALYSIS OR MANY?

Diverse psychoanalytic paradigms possess similarities as well as distinctive perspectives on psychic development, derangement, and treatment. Recently, there has been increasing interest in our multiple models of mind. Those welcoming this expansive atmosphere have preferred pluralism to the hegemony of a constricting, monolithic perspective (e.g., Benjamin, 1995; Bollas, 1989; Fast, 1998; Kligerman as cited in Wallerstein, 1993; Pine, 1990). For them, the hallowed concept of neutrality has increasingly come to mean an “openness to new perspectives” including a commitment to taking them seriously, refusing to believe any interpretation complete and any meaning exhaustive (Aron, 1996, p. 28).

Others lament or rage against the growing strength of what they have perceived to be misguided deviations. For them, “mindless eclecticism” threatens the very survival of psychoanalysis. Countering these latter charges, ecumenicists have chastised those adhering rigidly to “the sacred rituals of thoughtless traditionalism” (Gedo, 1994). Stimulated by heterodoxy, they have looked askance at those forever content to “stagnate in the lowlands of orthodoxy” (Schafer, 1976, p. 57). From the highlands, they have looked down on traditionalists living in a “self-imposed jailhouse,” forging their own bars, their “own unique escape from freedom” (Goldberg, 1990, p. 5). Lively debate between the orthodox and the ecumenicists has generated both heat and light. These are interesting times.

Diversity in psychoanalysis is not new. Only recently, however, have we collectively come “to experience it as a major problematic … and we have barely begun to explore its scientific and professional implications” (Wallerstein, 1992, p. 5). Considering this matter of paramount importance for the evolution of our discipline, Wallerstein (1988) made it the subject of his presidential address to the Montreal Congress of the International Psychoanalytic Association (IPA) in his seminal presentation “One Psychoanalysis or Many?” Reflecting on that talk, Wallerstein (1990) noted that no paper of his had ever provoked such intense reaction, both positive and negative. That dramatic response attested to the significance, passion, acrimony, and vitality associated with this debate.

Two years later, concurring with Wallerstein’s assessment of the topic’s timeliness, the Rome Congress adopted “The Search for Common Ground” as the theme for that next conference. At the same time, the IPA inaugurated a monograph series, distributed to all members, presenting Freudian classics with commentaries by analysts of diverse persuasions—another manifestation of the growing desire to foster familiarity with multiple points of view.

Five years before the Montreal Congress, Schafer (1983) published a tome he hoped would prove useful “in developing the foundations of a modern epistemology for psychoanalysis and, in tandem with that, developing a much needed discipline of comparative psychoanalysis” (p. x). Although characterizing the latter endeavor as “a virtually undeveloped intellectual pursuit” (p. 282), he acknowledged that some efforts toward comparative analysis had been made, such as Munroe’s (1955) book. In every case, however, “the result has been no more than a first approximation of the necessary form and content of this endeavor” (Schafer, p. 282).

In addition to those Congresses and Schafer and Munroe’s work, there have been several other noteworthy contributions to the developing comparative literature (e.g., Gedo, 1984; Greenberg & Mitchell, 1983; V. Hamilton, 1996; Pulver, 1987; Slavin & Kriegman, 1992). Although Schafer’s judgment about comparative analysis being in its infancy remains almost as true today as it was two decades ago, the time is increasingly propitious for significant advances to be made in developing this vitally needed aspect of our discipline. The ripeness of the moment, its suitability for bringing germinating seeds to fruition, can be attributed to favorable climatic conditions within our discipline and in the broader intellectual/sociocultural context in which psychoanalysis exists, be it in splendid or dreadful isolation or fructifying dialogue.

Although supporting the call for comparative analysis, I advocate going a significant step further. Understanding similarities and differences is necessary and insufficient. Beyond tolerating or embracing diversity, we must also understand and ultimately transcend it. For these reasons, I favor a comparative-integrative attitude. (Although not using precisely this term, some others have written in a manner that has definitely promoted this spirit, e.g., Gedo & Goldberg [1973], Mitchell [1988], Pine [1990], and Slavin & Kriegman [1992].)

In this chapter, I emphasize the importance of a comparative-integrative methodology for theory building (and for the construction, deconstruction, and reconstruction of psychoanalytic organizations). In ensuing chapters, I explicate the need for this point of view in relation to clinical practice and pedagogy.

TRANSCENDENTAL DECONSTRUCTION OF THE MYTHIC

The heated, personalized debates, the militantly maintained divisions, the seemingly irreconcilable differences, the peculiar failure of the field to heal its theoretical splits except by one side casting out the other and claiming to be “chosen,” the way Cain and Ishmael and Leah were cast into the wilderness … and the way Napoleon crowned himself, are more or less the same today as they were in the past. (Kuspit, 1994, p. 885)

Comparative-integrative analysis addresses this “peculiar failure” of our field head-on. Like comparative analysis, it promotes realization that no school has a monopoly on truth. Perspectives are not pure revelations of reality but rather collections of hypothetical constructs. Partially derived from data, they also determine which data will be attended to or disregarded.

Referring to these constructs as fictions, Schafer (1983) described schools of thought as loosely integrated, changing bodies of fictions. When this aspect of their nature is forgotten, fictions tend to become myths—ultimate, unchangeable assertions about reality. Like primitive religious beliefs, he noted, they are not open to challenge. Alternative conceptions are simply dismissed.

In belonging to a school, Schafer contended, one works within a more or less closed system. An increasingly audible chorus views such impermeability as enervating. “A closed system is a dead one,” Lussier (1991, p. 57) opined. “To the extent that we isolate ourselves from a portion of the discourse, we are deadened,” Ogden (1986, p. 3) asserted. One wastes away on the restricted diet afforded by a shut-in system.

Like being locked into a particular culture or period of history, Schafer (1983) noted, theoretical embeddedness is largely unconscious. Challenging sequestered thinking, comparative-integrative analysis helps transform unconscious embed-dedness into conscious reflection. Evaluating and endeavoring to integrate previously unavailable contents, this approach fosters “retrieval of the alienated” (Ogden, 1986, p. 3), enriching and revitalizing our discipline. Such resuscitation and expansion is increasingly needed in an era when one increasingly encounters articles, even entire books, bearing titles such as The Prison House of Psychoanalysis (Goldberg, 1990), The Death of Psychoanalysis (Prince, 1999), and so forth.

If the aim of a system is to create an outside where you can put things you don’t want, then we have to look at what that system disposes of—its rubbish—to understand it, to get a picture of how it sees itself and wants to be seen. (Phillips, 1995, p. 19)

Diamonds may be discovered in the trash—gems for which no place could be found in the original setting, the inner circle, the sacred ring. Such scavenging is not new for our field. We are “accustomed to divine concealed things from despised or unnoticed features, from the rubbish-heap, as it were, of our observations” (Freud 1914/1955e, p. 222).

Proscribed vocabulary in any theory is as telling as the recommended one (Phillips, 1995, p. 19). We need to pay special attention to forbidden words and ideas (cf. Willock, Bohm, & Curtis, in press). The degree to which we outlaw them suggests they have dangerous power. We had better explore that manna and come to understand it. Too often, we react to such terms, instead, the way bees do when a member of their species that does not belong to the hive enters, performing an unfamiliar dance. We, too, are prone to respond to communications from different schools with stinging attack. Our ofttimes venomous reaction is interesting but surely not the best we can do when experiencing systemic discomfort.

Elucidation has always been central to psychoanalysis. The comparative-integrative approach extends this aim beyond the traditional realm of individual psychopathology (including the psychopathology of everyday life) to the newer, equally exciting realm of our discipline’s unconscious and its quotidian pathology.

Some find this critical, complex, provisional, demanding attitude toward ourselves— our theories, our organizations, and our practices—liberating; others experience it as burdensome and disquieting. Surely, it is both. The vehement, venomous, vital passions fomented by Wallerstein’s plenary addresses suggest the health and integrity of our science requires and is crying out for this new approach. A growing number of analysts appear ready to take on this exciting project.

The science and philosophy of the 20th century has comprised serial attacks on all but the most pragmatic, provisional, contingent doctrines of realism, Barratt (1994) noted. Many analysts nonetheless continue cheerily oblivious to these developments. Venturing beyond Schafer’s (1983) portrayal of The Analytic Attitude, Barratt suggested every school has an attitude. Each theory establishes illusions and boundaries of designation exempt from questioning and critique. These attitudes resist our responsibility to interrogate everything we do, including theorizing.

In the zone of unquestioned myth, analysts indulge in inferential leaps that are usually inoffensive, even invisible to their close colleagues. These pirouettes are part of the acceptable dance in every hive of analytic activity. In contrast, these cognitive vaults leave analysts who dance in other companies spinning with epistemological dizziness and disbelief.

Mythic mentation is reminiscent of Snakes and Ladders. That enduringly popular board game embodies tensions between cooperative and competitive strivings, rule commitment, and earlier developmental wishes and fears. Longing to enact omnipotent flying fantasies, to hurdle tall obstacles in single leaps (the ladders), aficionados are simultaneously attuned to contrary feelings about thwarting, treacherous aspects of reality (the serpents). In mythic mode, analysts bypass grounded, one-step-at-a-time approaches to data and thought. They take handy shortcuts, magical ladders to divine destinations. To proponents of other perspectives, these logical leaps up linguistic ladders suggest wild analysis (Freud, 1910/1957; Schafer, 1985). They fear these flights of fantasy are simply seductive snake rides down slippery slopes of regressive, magical, or just plain sloppy thinking.

The need to recognize incoherence, inconsistency, and incompleteness in our positions, stemming from unexamined presuppositions and indefensible leaps of faith, was stressed by Schafer (1990). Schwaber (e.g., 1987, 1990), too, has criticized theory-driven, inferential jumps and has advocated more careful listening and questioning. Barratt (1994) suggested a different analytic attitude based on privileging free association in a manner akin to deconstructionism. Realizing theorizing is always operative, he advocated it be treated with suspicion. Rather than utilizing it to enhance identity, security, and certainty, theory should serve as impetus to radicalize the analyst’s free associative interrogation. That, for Barratt, is the sine qua non of the psychoanalytic odyssey.

I certainly endorse more careful listening, questioning, and the provisional, skeptical attitude toward formulations that have been urged by Schafer, Schwaber, Barratt, and others. I believe, however, that a more powerful safeguard against becoming or remaining trapped in a closed system suffused with mythic mentation is a comparative-integrative attitude. This critical approach guarantees the careful attention, querying, and tentative attitude that those authors have rightly implored us to embrace.

The necessity of moving beyond our cherished tribal simplicities, narcissistic investments, and aggressive indulgences is increasingly apparent in the (post)modern world. If one has lived in more than one culture or delved into more than one religion, one is likely to have a more open mind. Similarly, familiarity with multiple theoretical systems protects one against falling too easily into the illusion/delusion that any single manner of formulating/intervening is the only or necessarily the best way. Increasingly, it is recognized that it is no longer a luxury but rather “essential to try out radically different conceptual models” (Schafer, 1976, p. 59).

Tolerance should not be considered a lack of intellectual ability but an active, energizing ideal, Roazen (2002) counseled: “Not being too sure that one is right is a mark of having a civilized intelligence” (p. 284). He looked favorably on Erikson’s (1950) model that views people in terms of how many contradictions and tensions they are capable of unifying constructively. The opposite of this tolerance of ambiguity, uncertainty, and paradox is what Erikson (1975) termed “the human propensity to bolster one’s own inner mastery by bunching together and prejudging whole classes of people” (p. 175). Huddled in exclusive schools of thought, psychoanalysts have excelled at this human proclivity.

Unfortunately, even now “It is difficult to find any psychoanalyst who is really deeply conversant with more than one approach” (Mitchell & Black, 1995, p. 207). Only rare individuals, such as Grotstein, can boast fluency in several analytic languages, even if, as he put it, he speaks some with a heavy accent.

This state of affairs is regrettable for, as Donnel Stern (2003) put it, you do not really understand your own theory unless you understand the alternatives. He went so far as to assert that one cannot really have a viewpoint unless one can intelligently contrast it with another. (“He’s as blind as he can be, Just sees what he wants to see … Doesn’t have a point of view, Knows not where he’s going to, Isn’t he a bit like you and me?”—Lennon & McCartney, “Nowhere Man.”)

Investment in primary transitional (illus...

Table of contents

• RELATIONAL PERSPECTIVES BOOK SERIES LEWIS ARON AND ADRIENNE HARRIS
• Contents
• Acknowledgments
• Introduction
• I INNOVATION AND TRADITION IN THE EVOLUTION OF PSYCHOANALYTIC THOUGHT
• II THE COMPARATIVE INTEGRATIVE POINT OF VIEW
• References
• Index