Freud Resources > 1916-17
Freud, Sigmund 1916-17, Introductory Lectures on Psychoanalysis , SE 15-6: 13-477, trs. James Strachey from Vorlesungen zur Einführung in die Psychoanalyse, GW: 11. First published in English in New York 1966, London, 1971. Penguin: 39-517.
N.B. Page references with 'P' are to the Penguin edition of 1974; without this they are references to SE. Ratio SE to Penguin: 464:478=0.9707112. Penguin:SE::478:464 = 1.0301724. But SE 191 = Penguin 207 [1.0837696335]; SE 376 = Penguin 423 [1.125].
Advances have in the meantime taken place in its theory and important additions have been made to it, such as the division of the personality into an ego, a super-ego and an id, a radical alteration in the theory of the instincts, and discoveries concerning the origin of conscience and the sense of guilt. Preface to the Hebrew translation 
Part I Parapraxes (Die Fehlleistungen—'Mischievements') 15-79
Lecture 1 Introduction 15-24
P 46 n. [Editor's note. "Unbewusst" and "bewusst". It should be realized from the first that in German these words have a passive grammatical form and, generally speaking, a passive sense. In English "conscious" and "unconscious" may be used passively but as often as not are used actively: "I am conscious of a pain in my toe" or "he was unconscious of his hatred". The German usage would rather speak of the pain as conscious and the hatred unconscious, and this is the usage adopted regularly by Freud.]
Lectures 2-4 Parapraxes 25-39, 40-59, 60-79
The argument here is that the evidence of parapraxes suggest the existence of unconscious processes. Parapraxes form the best introduction to the subject, coming, as they usually do, with their own explanations.
P 17 determinism [in Editor's intro, Penguin]
P 41 … words provoke affects … 17 [sic: in both Penguin and SE]
P 41-2 transference: 'a special  emotional attachment to the doctor' 17-18 (P 42) [Freud doesn't use the term 'transference' here]
P 43 Moses 19
P 47 GMG: In this passage, Freud makes it clear that his view of the human being is that it is an organism characterised by powerful, potentially dangerous drives inserted into a society which requires that this energy be harnessed and put to uses consistent with the aims of that society. And it is this harnessing, or channelling, that he calls sublimation. What emerges from the process is culture, some aspects of which are the capital C kind of Culture: 'the highest cultural, artistic and social creations of the human spirit.'  These creations, of course, include writing, in the sense of the creative use of language. And it is specifically sexual instincts and drives which are sublimated into the emanations of the general cultural will.
P 47-8 (Sublimation) We believe that civilization has been created under the pressure of the exigencies of life at the cost of satisfaction  of the instincts; and we believe that civilization is to a large extent being constantly created anew, since each individual who makes a fresh entry into human society repeats this sacrifice of instinctual satisfaction for the benefit of the whole community. Among the instinctual forces which are put to this use the sexual impulses play an important part; in this process they are sublimated—that is to say, they are diverted from their sexual aims and directed to others that are socially higher and no longer sexual. 22-3
P 50 parapraxes 25
P 53 determinism 28 [& P 17 & P 76 & P 136]
P 63-5 'proof' of theory from literature: Schiller 36-7, Shak 37-8 (see also P 125)
P 76 determinism—no 'such a thing as psychical freedom' 49
P 78 science and proof 51
In the law courts it may be necessary for practical purposes to find a defendant guilty on circumstantial evidence. We ar under no such necessity; but neither are we obliged to disregard the circumstantial evidence. It would be a mistake to suppose that a science consists entirely f strictly proved these, and it would be unjust to require this. Only a disposition with a passion for authority will raise such a demand, someone with a craving to replace his religious catechism by another, though it is a scientific one. 51
P 92 The speaker decides not to put it into words, and after that the slip of the tongue occurs: after that, that is to say, the purpose which has been forced back is put into words against the speaker's will, either by altering the expression of the intention which he has permitted, or by mingling with it, or by actually taking its place. This, then, is the mechanism of a slip of the tongue. 65
P 93 ... the suppression of the speaker's intention to say something is the indispensable condition for the occurrence of a slip of the tongue. 66
P 95 … dynamic view of mental phenomena … 67
P 105 non-dynamic—structural—contradictions and pairs of contraries
It is important to begin in good time to reckon with the fact that mental life is the arena and battle-ground for mutually opposing purposes or, to put  it non-dynamically, that it consists of contrdictions and pairs of contraries. Proof of the existence of a particular purpose is no argument against the existence of an opposite one; there is room for both. It is only a question of the attitude of these contraries to each other, and of what effects are produced by the one and by the other. 76-77
Part II Dreams (Lectures 5-15) 83-239
P 111 Lecture 5 Difficulties and first approaches 83-99
P 128 creative writing and daydreaming 98-9
P 129 Lecture 6 The premisses and technique of interpretation 100-112
P 136 determinism and mental life—no undetermined psychical events, and no free will 106
P 143 Lecture 7 The manifest content of dreams and the latent dream-thoughts 113-125
Three rules of interpretation 114 (1) We must not concern ourselves with what the dream appears to tell us … (2) We must restrict our work to calling up the substitutive ideas for each element ... (3) We must wait till the concealed unconscious material we are in search of emerges of its own accord ... 114
P 157 Lecture 8 Children's dreams 126-35
P 168 Lecture 9 The censorship of dreams 136-48
P 168 Dreams are things which get rid of (psychical) stimuli disturbing to sleep, by the method of hallucinatory satisfaction. 136
P 182 Lecture 10 Symbolism in dreams 149-69
P 182-203 Freud goes over the ground covered by the Interpretation of Dreams again, in the discussion in Lecture 10, Symbolism in dreams (which could equally well have been called 'The language of dreams').
Conclusions: 1. … the dreamer has a symbolic mode of expression at his disposal which he does no know in waking life and does not recognize. ; 2. The same symbolism … is employed by myths and fairy tales, by the people in their sayings and songs, by colloquial linguistic usage and by the poetic imagination. ; 3. … in dreams symbols are used almost excusively for the expression of sexual objects and relations. 
P 201 Freud appears to believe, at least as a working hypothesis, that there is what he calls a 'basic language'  of which all symbolic relations would be residues.
P 200-203 GMG: The unconscious speaks this 'basic language', but expresses it indirectly in these symbolic residues, in dreams, myths, fairy tales, and in sayings and songs, in colloquial linguistic usage and in the poetic imagination . The field in which most of this 'basic language' has survived is that of the neuroses , with its material being the symptoms and other manifestations of neurotic patients. And he tells us that he is prepared to follow a philologist called Sperber  in seeing the expression of sexual needs as intrinsic with the origin and development of speech.
P 202-3, 213ff. philological explanations: Schreber: SE 166; Sperber: SE 167, P 201; Abel: P 214, SE 179 80, 229-30.
P 203 Freud speaks of 'the task of translating the symbolic language of dreams into that of our waking thought.' 168
P 204 Lecture 11 The dream-work 170-83
Freud uses this term to refer to 'the work which transforms the latent dream into the manifest one.' 170
P 205 The first achievement of the dream-work is condensation. By that we understand the fact that the manifest dream has a smaller content than the latent one, and is thus an abbreviated translation of it. ... Condensation is brought about (1) by the total omission of certain latent elements, (2) by only a fragment of some complexes in the latent dream passing over into the manifest one and (3) by latent elements which have something in common being combined and fused into a single unity in the manifest dream. 171 (Freud 1974: P 205)
If you prefer it, we can reserve the term "condensation" for the last only of these processes. Its results are particularly easy to demonstrate. You will have no difficulty in recalling instances from your own dreams of different people being condensed into a single one. A composite figure of this kind may look like A perhaps, but may be dressed like B, may do something that we remember C doing, and at the same time we may know that he is D. This composite structure is of course emphasizing something that the four people have in common. Penguin 205-6
P 206 translation 171
P 207 'rendering, as it were, into another script or language.' (the dreamwork making a translation of thoughts into another form—)
P 207 (GMG:) Freud points out, that in the process of the translation of thoughts by the dreamwork into the manifest dream that a strange kind of translation has taken place. Whereas normally a translation 'endeavours to preserve the distinction made in the text and particularly to keep things that are similar separate,' the dreamwork 'tries to condense  two different thoughts by seeking out (like a joke) an ambiguous word'—or image, or symbol—'in which the two thoughts may come together.' 172-3
P 207 (Wright:) Linkages made in the (unconscious) primary process are already absurd from the point of view of the conscious mind, and these have a profound effect upon the dream. It is therefore  difficult to understand precisely the distinction, if it is indeed viable, between the irrational connections pre-existing in the primary process and the 'distortions' insisted on by the censorship. The mechanisms involved seem to serve at one and the same time a subversive purpose (primary process functioning) and defensive purpose (the censorship of the dreamwork). As Freud said, 'in any case the censorship profits from it'. (Wright 1984: 19-20, quoting 15: 173 (Penguin 207), quoted by Laplanche & Pontalis 1973: 83).
P 207-8 In regard to the connection between the latent and the manifest dream, condensation results also in no simple relation being left between the elements in the one and the other. A manifest element may correspond simultaneously to several latent ones, and, contrariwise, a latent element may play a part in several manifest ones—there is, as it were, a criss-cross relationship [cf. p. 156: where he says much the same thing]. In interpreting a dream, moreover, we find that the associations to a single manifest element need not  emerge in succession: we must often wait till the whole dream has been interpreted.
Thus the dream-work carries out a very unusual kind of transcription of the dream-thoughts: it is not a word-for-word or a sign-for sign translation; nor is it a selection made according to fixed rules—as though one were to reproduce only the consonants in a word and to leave out the vowels; nor is it what might be described as a representative selection—one element being invariably chosen to take the place of several; it is something different and far more complicated.
P 208 The second achievement of the dream-work is displacement. ... It manifests itself in two ways: in the first, a latent element is replaced not by a component part of itself but by something more remote—that is, by an allusion; and in the second, the psychical accent is shifted from an important element onto another which is unimportant, so that the dream appears differently centred and strange. (Freud 1974: 208)
P 209 The third achievement of the dream-work ... consists in transforming thoughts into visual images. 175 (Freud 1974: 209)
[The fourth dream process is symbolisation.]
P 215 archaic—cf. LS??? 180
The achievements I have enumerated exhaust its activity: it can do no more than condense, displace, represent in plastic form and subject the whole to a secondary revision.
P 218 … the connections which have been revealed between psychoanalytic studies and other fields—especially those concerned in the development of speech and thought. 183
P 219 Lecture 12 Some analyses of sample dreams 184-948
P 235 Lecture 13 The archaic features and infantilism of dreams 199-212
P 247 The fact is thus confirmed that what is unconscious in mental life is also what is infantile. 210 (Freud 1974: 247, emphasis in original)
P 250 Lecture 14 Wish-fulfilment 213-27
P 250 … all dreams are children's dreams ... (Freud 1974: 250, emphasis in original)
P 266 Lecture 15 Uncertainties and criticisms 228-39 [end of volume]
Part III General theory of the neuroses
P 281 Lecture 16 Psychoanalysis and psychiatry 243
P 296 Lecture 17 The sense of symptoms 257
P 297 'Thus neurotic symptoms have a sense, like parapraxes and dreams, and, like them have a connection with the life of those who produce them. ... examples ... I can indeed only assert, I cannot prove, that it is always in in every instance so. 257-8
Obsessional neurosis is shown in the patient's being occupied with thoughts in which he is in fact not interested, in his being aware of impulses in himself which appear very strange to him and in his being led to actions the performance of which give him no enjoyment, but which it is quite impossible for him to omit. 258 Penguin: 297.
I was obliged to give the girl hints and propose interpretations, which were always rejected with a decided 'no' or accepted with contemptuous doubt. But after this first reaction of rejection there followed a time during which she occupied herself with the possibilities put before her, collected associations to them, produced recollections and made connections, until by her own work she had accepted all the interpretations. Penguin: 306
[GMG:] In Freud's account of the case, the girl's pillow is (for her) a representation of the female as the bedstead displaces the male, and the clocks and watches are condensations of both time and of the female genitals. However, these processes of representation are not immediately apparent to the girl, who 'gradually came to learn that it was as symbols of the female genitals that clocks were banished from her equipment for the night.'  Whether her conscious mind allowed these thoughts to come up from her unconscious, or whether she finally allowed herself to be persuaded by her determined analyst, we are told that she accepts Freud's interpretation of her story, but only after some time.
[Freud:] She found out the central meaning of her ceremonial one day when she suddenly understood the meaning of the rule that the pillow must not touch the back of the bedstead. The pillow, she said, had always been a woman to her and the upright wooden back a man. Thus she wanted—by magic, we must interpolate—to keep the man and woman apart—that is, to separate her parents from each other, not to allow them to have sexual intercourse. 267
Finally, when she was so big that it became physically uncomfortable for her to find room in the bed between her parents, she managed, by a conscious simulation of anxiety, to arrange for the mother to exchange places with her for the night and to leave her own place so that the patient could sleep beside her father. This situation no doubt became the starting-point of phantasies whose after-effect was to be seen in the ceremonial. 268
More could be made, too, of the analysis of this ceremonial if it could be properly linked up with the patient's other symptoms. But our path does not lead in that direction. You must be content with a hint that the girl was in the grip of an erotic attachment to her father whose beginnings went back to her childhood. Perhaps that was why she behaved in such an unfriendly way to her mother. Nor can we overlook the fact that the analysis of this symptom has once again taken us back to a patient's sexual life. We shall perhaps be less surprised at this the more often we gain an insight into the sense and intention of neurotic symptoms. Penguin: 309.
P 313 Lecture 18 Fixation to traumas—the unconscious 273
P 314 Fixation on past traumatic event. Fixation is 'a general feature, of great practical importance, in every neurosis.' 274
'In the majority of cases, indeed, a very early phase of life is chosen for the purpose—a period of their [patients'] childhood or even, laughable as this may sound, of their existence as an infant at the breast.' 274, P 314
Traumatic neuroses different from spontaneous neuroses. 274, P 314
P 315 ... an economic view of mental processes. … We apply it to an experience which within a short period of time presents the mind with an increase of stimulus too powerful to be dealt with or worked off in the normal way, and this must result in permanent disturbances of the manner in which the energy operates. 275, P 315 [emphasis in original]
P 316 Every neurosis includes a fixation of that kind [to a particular phase in the past], but not every fixation leads to a neurosis, coincides with a neurosis or arises owing to a neurosis. 276, P 316 [Example of mourning]
P 318 … unconscious mental processes … 277
... and if someone objects that here the unconscious is nothing real in a scientific sense, is a makeshift, une façon de parler, we can only shrug our shoulders resignedly and dismiss what he says as unintelligible. 278 P 318
... these symptoms of obsessional neurosis ... lead ... to a conviction of the existence of the unconscious in  the mind ... 278, P 318-9
... the possibility of giving a sense to neurotic symptoms by analytic interpretation is an unshakeable proof of the existence—or, if you prefer it, of the necessity for the hypothesis—of unconscious mental processes. 279, P 319
P 320 Symptoms are never constructed from conscious processes; as soon as the unconscious processes concerned have become conscious, the symptom must disappear. Here you will at once perceive a means of approach to therapy, a way of making symptoms disappear. 279 [Breuer as example 279, P 320]
The construction of a symptom is a substitute for something else that did not happen. Some particular mental processes should normally have developed to a point at which consciousness received information of them. This, however, did not take place, and instead—out of the interrupted processes, which had been somehow disturbed and were obliged to remain unconscious—the symptom emerged. Thus something in the nature of an exchange has taken place; if this can be reversed the therapy of the neurotic symptoms will have achieved its task. 280, P 320
P 322 But I have a strong dislike of simplifying things at the expense of truthfulness. 282
P 323 [amnesias] ... its task [that of analysis] is to fill up all the gaps in the patient's memory, to remove his amnesias. 282, P 323
P 327 Lecture 19 Resistance and repression 286
P 344 Lecture 20 The sexual life of human beings 303
P 362 Lecture 21 The development of the libido and the sexual organizations 320
What help does analysis give towards a further knowledge of the Œdipus Complex? That can be answered in a word. Analysis confirms all that the legend describes. It shows that each of these neurotics has himself been an Œdipus or, what comes to the same thing, has, as reaction to the complex, become a Hamlet. 335
P 383 Lecture 22 Some thoughts on development and regression—ætiology 339
P 404 Lecture 23 The paths to the formation of symptoms 358
If the infantile experiences brought to light by analysis were invariably real, we should feel that we were standing on firm ground; if they were regularly falsified and revealed inventions, as phantasies of the patient, we should be obliged to abandon this shaky ground and look for salvation elsewhere. But neither of these things is the case: the position can be shown to be that childhood experiences constructed or remembered in analysis are sometimes indisputably false and sometimes equally certainly correct, and in most cases compounded of truth and falsehood. Sometimes, then, symptoms represent events which really took place and to which we may attribute an influence on the fixation of the libido, and sometimes they represent phantasies of the patient's which are not, of course, suited to playing an ætiological role. It is difficult to find one's way about in this. We can make a first start, perhaps, with a similar discovery—namely, that the isolated childhood memories that people have possessed consciously from time immemorial and before there was any such thing as analysis may equally be falsified or at least may combine truth and falsehood in plenty. In their case there is seldom any difficulty in showing their incorrectness; so we at least have the reassurance of knowing that the responsibility for this unexpected disappointment lies, not with analysis, but in some way with the patients. 367 Penguin: 414.
After a little reflection we shall easily understand what it is  about this state of things that perplexes us so much. It is the low valuation of reality the neglect of the distinction between it and phantasy. Penguin: 415.
It will be a long time before he can take in our proposal that we should equate fantasy and reality and not bother to begin with whether the childhood experiences under examination are the one or the other. Yet this is clearly the only correct attitude to adopt towards these mental productions. 368 Penguin: 415.
It remains a fact that the patient has created these phantasies for himself, and this fact is of scarcely less importance for his neurosis than if he had really experienced what the phantasies contain. The phantasies possess psychical as contrasted with material reality, and we gradually learn to understand that in the world of the neuroses it is psychical reality which is the decisive kind. 368
Among the occurrences which recur again and again in the youthful history of neurotics—which are scarcely ever absent—there are a few of particular importance, which also deserve on that account, I think, to be brought into greater prominence than the rest. As specimens of this class I will enumerate these: observation of parental intercourse, seduction by an adult and threat of being castrated. It would be a mistake to suppose that they are never characterized by material reality; on the contrary, this is often established incontestably through enquiries from older members of the patient's family. It is by no means a rare thing, for instance, for a little boy, who is beginning to play with his penis in a naughty way and is not yet aware that one must conceal such activities, to be threatened by a parent or nurse with having his penis or his sinful hand cut off. Parents will often admit this when they are asked, since they think they have done something useful in making such a threat; a number of people have a correct conscious memory of such a threat, especially if it was made at a somewhat later period. If the threat is delivered by the mother or some other female she usually shifts its performance on to the father—or the doctor. In Struwwelpeter, the famous work of the Frankfurt pædiatrician Hoffmann (which owes its popularity precisely to an understanding of the sexual and other complexes of childhood), you will find castration softened into a cutting-off of the thumbs as a punishment for obstinate sucking. But it is highly improbable that children are threatened with castration as often as it appears in the analyses of neurotics. We shall be satisfied by realizing that the child puts a threat of this kind together in his imagination on the basis of hints, helped out by a knowledge that auto-erotic satisfaction is forbidden and under the impression of his discovery of the female genitals. 368-9 Penguin: 416.
Seduction by an older child of by one of the same age is even more frequent than by an adult; and if in the case of girls who produce such an event in the story of their childhood their father figures fairly regularly as the seducer, there can be no doubt either of the imaginary nature of the accusation or of the motive that has led to it. A phantasy of being seduced when no seduction has occurred is usually employed by a child to screen the auto-erotic period of his sexual activity. He spares himself shame about masturbation by retrospectively phantasying a desired object into these earliest times. You must not suppose, however, that sexual abuse of a child by its nearest male relatives belongs entirely to the realm of phantasy. Most analysts will have treated cases in which such events were real and could be unimpeachably established; but even so they related to the later years of childhood and had been transposed into earlier times.
The only impression we gain is that these events of childhood are somehow demanded as a necessity, that they are among the essential elements of a neurosis. If they have occurred in reality, so much to the good; but if they have been withheld by reality, [Penguin 418] they are put together from hints and supplemented by phantasy. The outcome is the same, and up to the present we have not succeeded in pointing to any difference in the consequences, whether phantasy or reality has had the greater share in these events of childhood. Here we simply have once again one of the complemental relations that I have so often mentioned; moreover it is the strangest of all we have met with. Whence comes the need for these phantasies and the material for them? There can be no doubt that their sources lie in the instincts [drives]; but it has still to be explained why the same phantasies with the same content are created on every occasion. I am prepared with an answer which I know will seem daring to you. I believe these primal phantasies, as I should like to call them, and no doubt a few others as well, are a phylogenetic endowment.Penguin: 417-8.
[Rand & Torok 1993: 590-1 : It is perhaps with a view toward confirming the hypothesis of some ultimate reality that Freud finally conjectures a new category of fantasy: primal fantasies—the contemporary descendants of a long-gone material reality: ]
In them the individual reaches beyond his own experience into primæval experience at points where his own experience has been too rudimentary. It seems to me quite possible that all the things that are told to us today in analysis as phantasy—the seduction of children, the inflaming of sexual excitement by observing parental intercourse, the threat of castration (or rather castration itself)—were once real occurrences in the primæval times of the human family, and that children in their phantasies are simply filling in the gaps in individual truth with prehistoric truth. I have repeatedly been led to suspect that the psychology of the neuroses has stored up in it more of the antiquities of human development than any other source. 371 Penguin: 418.
[Rand & Torok 1993: 591 : Here is the pinnacle of paradox and the most acute stage of Freud's vacillations. This is also the ultimate compromise. Freud says that whether neurotics are telling the truth or not is unimportant because even when they are lying, they are telling the truth—a prehistoric truth. The fantasies of neurotics are the realities of the primeval human family. The two terms—material reality and psychical reality—initially put forward as being mutually exclusive are yet at the same time completely mutually inclusive: (physical) reality is a fantasy and fantasy is (prehistoric) reality.]
The human ego is, as you know, slowly educated by the pressure of external necessity to appreciate reality and obey the reality principle; in the course of this process it is obliged to renounce, temporarily or permanently, a variety of the objects and aims at which its striving for pleasure, and not only for sexual pleasure, is directed. But men have always found it hard to renounce pleasure; they cannot bring themselves to do it without some kind of compensation. They have therefore retained a mental activity in which all these abandoned sources of pleasure and methods of achieving pleasure are granted a further existence—a form of existence in which they are left free from the claims of reality and of what we call 'reality-testing'. Every desire takes before long the form of picturing its own fulfilment; there is no doubt that dwelling upon imaginary wish-fulfilments brings satisfaction with it, although it does not interfere with a knowledge that what is concerned is not real. Thus in the activity of phantasy human beings continue to enjoy the freedom from external compulsion which they have long since renounced in reality. Penguin 419.
Penguin: 423. An artist is once more in rudiments an introvert, not far removed from neurosis. He is oppressed by excessively powerful instinctual needs. He desires to win honour, power, love, wealth, fame and the love of women; but he lacks the means of achieving these satisfaction. Consequently, like any other unsatisfied man, he turns away from reality and transfers all his interest, and his libido too, to the wishful constructions of his life of phantasy, whence the path might lead to neurosis. There must be, no doubt, a convergence of all kinds of things if this is not to be the complete outcome of his development; it is well known, indeed, how often artists in particular suffer from a partial inhibition of their efficiency owing to neurosis. Their constitution probably includes a strong capacity for sublimation and a certain degree of laxity in the repressions which are decisive for a conflict. An artist, however, finds a path back to reality in the following manner. To be sure, he is not the only one who leads a life of phantasy. Access to the half-way region of phantasy is permitted by the universal assent of mankind, and everyone suffering from privation expects to derive alleviation and consolation from it. But for those who are not artists the yield of pleasure to be derived from the sources of phantasy is very limited. The ruthlessness of their repressions forces them to be content with such meagre day-dreams as are allowed to become conscious. A man who is a true artist has more at his disposal. In the first place, he understands how to work over his day-dreams in such a way as to make them lose what is too personal about them and repels strangers, and to make it possible for others to share in the enjoyment of them. He understands, too, how to tone them down so that they do not easily betray their origin from proscribed sources. Furthermore, he possess the mysterious power of shaping some particular material until it has become a faithful image of his phantasy that, for the time being at least, repressions are outweighed and lifted by it. If he is able accomplish all this, he makes it possible for other people once more to derive consolation and alleviation from their own sources of pleasure in their unconscious which have come inaccessible to them; he earns their gratitude and admiration and he has thus achieved through his phantasy what originally  he had achieved only in his phantasy—honour, power and the love of women. (1916-17, SE 16: 376-7)
P 425 Lecture 24 The common neurotic state 378
P 440 Lecture 25 Anxiety 392
P 461 Lecture 26 The libido theory and narcissism 412
P 466 First, how do we differentiate between the concepts of narcissism and egoism? Well, narcissism, I believe, is the libidinal complement to egoism. When we speak of egoism, we have in view only the individual's advantage; when we talk of narcissism we are also taking his libidinal satisfaction into account. 376-7
P 470-1 But it is quite a different thing when a particular, very energetic process forces a withdrawal of libido from objects. Here the libido that has become narcissistic cannot find its way back to objects, and this interference with the libido's mobility certainly becomes pathogenic. It seems  that an accumulation of narcissistic libido beyond a certain amount is not tolerated. We may even imagine that it was for that very reason that object-cathexes originally came about, that the ego was obliged to send out its libido so as not to fall ill as a result of its being dammed up. 421 [GMG: but this depends on Freud's hydraulic model of energy.]
P 482 Lecture 27 Transference 431
P 482 therapy 431
P 482 And you have an indisputable right to learn this. I shall not, however, tell it you but shall insist on your discovering it for yourselves. 431
[Ætiology of neurosis: 431-2]
1. hereditary disposition
2. influence of early experiences in childhood
P 483 3. … 'real frustration'—the misfortunes of life from which arise deprivation of love, poverty, family quarrels, ill-judged choice of a partner in marriage, unfavourable social circumstances, and the strictness of ethical standards to whose pressure the individual is subject. 432
P 486 What we must make use of must no doubt be the replacing of what is unconscious by what is conscious, the translation of what is unconscious into what is conscious. Yes, that is it. By carrying what is unconscious on into what is conscious, we lift the repressions, we remove the preconditions for the formation of symptoms, we transform the pathogenic conflict into a normal one for which it must be possible somehow to find a solution. All that we bring about in a patient is this single psychical change: the length to which it is carried is the measure of the help we provide. Where no repressions (or analogous psychical processes) can be undone, our therapy has nothing to expect. 435
P 488 As we know, the word 'unconscious' is being used here in two senses: on the one hand as a phenomenon and on the other as a system. 437 [Editor's footnote here refers the reader to 227 n., which refers to other passages giving Freud's views on the 'unconscious'.]
P 494 transference. We mean a transference of feelings on to the person of the doctor … 442
P 495 With his male patients, again, more often that with women, the doctor comes across a form of expression of the transference which seems at first sight to contradict all our previous descriptions—a hostile or negative transference. 443
P 495 … defiance signifies dependence as much as obedience does, though with a "minus" instead of a "plus" sign before it. 443 [Cf. LS on the avunculate]
P 496 We overcome the transference by pointing  out to the patient that his feelings do not arise from the present situation and do not apply to the person of the doctor, but that they [the feelings] are repeating something that happened to him earlier. In this way we oblige him to transform his repetition into a memory. By that means the transference, which, whether affectionate or hostile, seemed in every case to constitute the greatest threat to the treatment, becomes its best tool, by whose help the most secret compartments of mental life can be opened. 443-4
P 496 Thus the transference may be compared to the cambium layer in a tree between the wood and the bark … [analogy] [transference neurosis]
P 497 But the mastering of this new, artificial neurosis coincides with getting rid of the illness which was originally brought to the treatment—with the accomplishment of our therapeutic task. A person who has become normal and free from the operation of repressed instinctual impulses in his relation  to the doctor will remain so in his own life after the doctor has once more withdrawn from it.
The transference possesses this extraordinary, and for the treatment, positively central, importance in hysteria, anxiety hysteria and obsessional neurosis, which are for that reason rightly classed together as "transference neuroses".
P 498 In so far as his transference bears a "plus" sign, it clothes the doctor with authority and is transformed into belief in his communications and explanations. In the absence of such a transference, or if it is a negative one, the patient would never even give a hearing to the doctor and his arguments. In this his belief is repeating the story of its own development; it is a derivative of love and, to start with, needed no arguments. Only later did he allow them enough room to submit them to examination, provided they were brought forward by someone he loved. Without such supports arguments carried no weight, and in  most people's lives they never do. Thus in general a man is only accessible from the intellectual side too, in so far as he is capable of a libidinal cathexis of objects; and we have good reason to recognize and to dread in the amount of his narcissism a a barrier against the possibility of being influenced by even the best analytic technique.
P 498 But here I will pause, and let you have a word …
P 499 "Ah! so you've admitted it at last! … Is it not possible that you are forcing on the patient what you want and what seems to you correct, in this field as well?" '… you … must be answered. But I cannot do so today: we have not the time.
P 500 They [patients with narcissistic neuroses] manifest no transference and for that reason are inaccessible to our efforts and cannot be cured by us.
P 501 Lecture 28 Analytic therapy 448
P 504 This work of overcoming resistances is the essential function of analytic treatment; the patient has to accomplish it and the doctor makes this possible for him with the help of suggestion operating in an educative sense. For that reason psychoanalytic treatment has justly been described as a kind of after-education.
P 505 That is what our opponents believe; and in especial they think that we have "talked" the patients into everything relating to the importance of sexual experiences—or even into those experiences themselves—after such notions have grown up in our own depraved imagination.
P 505 Whatever in the doctor's conjectures is inaccurate drops out in the course of the analysis; it has to be withdrawn and replaced by something more correct.
P 506 We look upon successes that set in too soon as obstacles rather than as a help to the work of analysis; and we put an end to such successes by constantly resolving the transference on which they are based.
P 507 A neurotic is incapable of enjoyment and of efficiency—the former because his libido is not directed on to any real object and the latter  because he is obliged to employ a great deal of his available energy on keeping his libido under repression and on warding off its assaults. He would become healthy if the conflict between his ego and his libido came to an end and if his ego had his libido again at its disposal. The therapeutic task consists, therefore, in freeing the libido from its present attachments, which are withdrawn from the ego, and in making it once more serviceable to the ego.
P 507 Thus the transference becomes the battlefield on which all the mutually struggling forces should meet one another. 454
P 507-8 All the libido, as well as everything opposing it, is made to converge solely on the relation with the doctor. In this process the  symptoms are inevitably divested of libido. In place of his patient's true illness there appears the artificially constructed transference illness, in place of the various unreal objects of the libido there appears a single, and once more imaginary, object in the person of the doctor. But, by the help of the doctor's suggestion, the new struggle around this object is lifted to the highest psychical level: it takes place as a normal mental conflict. Since a fresh repression is avoided, the alienation between ego and libido is brought to an end and the subject's mental unity is restored. 454
P 508-9 By means of the work of interpretation, which transforms what is unconscious into what is conscious, the ego is enlarged at the cost of this unconscious; by means of instruction, it is made conciliatory towards the libido and inclined to grant it some satisfaction, and its repugnance to the claims of the libido is diminished by the possibility of disposing of a portion of it by sublimation. The more closely events in the treatment coincide with this ideal description, the greater will be the success of the psychoanalytic therapy. It finds its limits  in the lack of mobility of the libido, which may refuse to leave its objects, and the rigidity of narcissism, which will not allow transference on to objects to increase beyond certain bounds. Further light may perhaps be thrown on the dynamics of the process of cure if I say that we get hold of the whole of the libido which has been withdrawn from the dominance of the ego by attracting a portion of it on to ourselves by means of the transference.
P 510 Thus a healthy person, too, is virtually a neurotic; but dreams appear to be the only symptoms which he is capable of forming. It is true that if one subjects his waking life to a closer examination one discovers something that contradicts this appearance—namely that this ostensibly healthy life is interspersed with a great number of trivial and in practice unimportant symptoms.
P 510-11 The distinction between nervous health and neurosis is thus reduced to a practical question and is decided by the outcome—by whether the subject is left with a sufficient amount of capacity for enjoyment and of efficiency. It probably goes back  to the relative sizes of the quota of energy that remains free and of that which is bound by repression, and is of a quantitative not of a qualitative nature.
New: 19 May, 2015 | Now: 19 May, 2015 | Garry Gillard | garrygillard[at]gmail.com