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Psychoanalysis: Then and Now Edna O’Shaughnessy and Elizabeth Spillius are both psychoanalysts who have studied, developed and extended the theoretical and clinical work of Melanie Klein. In recognition of their long and substantial contribution to psychoanalysis and the high professional esteem and affection in which they are held by the British Psychoanalytical Society they were awarded Honorary Membership of the Society. On this moving occasion in January 2006, they were both asked to give a short talk on ‘Psychoanalysis: Then and Now’.
A supposedly 10 minute address
on 18th January 2006
I would like to join Eglé, Red and Anne-Marie in thanking the British Society for all that you have given us over many years. It was not always so simple, however: there were many times when I asked myself, ‘Whatever am I doing here? I’m an anthropologist!’ However, two or three years ago I discovered that I really thought the two disciplines had more in common than I’d thought, so that even that wrinkle of discontent was smoothed out. I will try to address the theme that David Bell and the Scientific Committee have suggested – ‘Now’ and ‘Then’. My ‘Now’ has been especially occupied with interest in psychoanalytic technique, and I’d like to thank Bernie Barnett and the Curriculum Committee for getting me started on this particular venture by suggesting that I teach a course on it, which I’ve greatly enjoyed. But it soon linked up with another current interest which is more occupied with ‘Then’, namely, the explorations I’ve been doing in the Melanie Klein Archive into Klein’s technique, and I thought that tonight I’d briefly try to bring a bit of Klein’s ‘Then’ into our ‘Now’.
Rather to my surprise, Klein’s technique as shown in her
unpublished lectures and in her voluminous clinical notes was much
more like Freud’s than like contemporary Kleinian technique or
like modern technique in general. Like Freud, Klein stresses the
importance of the transference, but, also like Freud, she does not
seem to make it the absolute cornerstone of her technique in the
way we usually do now. Further, she was much more preoccupied,
especially in her earlier work, with the verbal content of
sessions than with the emotional atmosphere. I think it is a
hallmark of modern technique, as Anne Marie has said, that we
start with the tone, the emotional atmosphere of the session, and
then we relate the content, the words, to that atmosphere. I think
Klein must also have used the emotional atmosphere, but she
certainly didn’t explicitly focus on it, especially in the early
sessions I shall describe. I want to show how her technique seems
to have changed as time went on, so that by 1948 the emotional
atmosphere and the transference
Klein’s work with ‘B’ in 1936/7 There are nearly 500 pages of notes of sessions with B, starting in 1936 and 1937, with additional notes in 1940, 1943 and 1948. Then, like all other clinical notes in the Archive, the records of his sessions in the Archive abruptly stop; Klein doesn’t say why. This patient appears in Klein’s 1940 paper ‘Mourning and its relation to manic-depressive states’ in which she describes her sessions with him just after his mother’s death in 1936/7. She describes him as a man in his early 40s ‘with strong paranoid and depressive traits’. The first session I’ll describe came some time after his mother’s funeral. We don’t know much about B. He worked in the City, but he also seems to have lived in what sounds like a rather large house in the country, and his sessions are full of material about plants and wildlife. One of the rather touching aspects of Klein’s character was that she was endlessly curious, and so, although she was very much a city person, she became almost as involved as B himself in the habits of rats, foxes, badgers, ferrets, rabbits, hares, blackbirds, owls, horses, bulls, cows, dogs, foxgloves. Klein says B began the session ‘very angry and again despairing , very much in connection with his wife who can’t be improved, etc’. In the preceding session B had had two dreams, and Klein went back to one of these dreams and discussed it again at some length. She asked B ‘..how could the dog kill the rat in the lavatory?’ [in the dream] and B says, ‘It just shows that his association is nonsense’. The notes continue: ‘K interprets that it is quite sensible if connected with the attacks on the behind of the human body, which played such a part in recent material. The dog, his own tearing part of his personality, attacking the behind of the woman, of his mother, to kill there the father’s penis, represented through faeces. The larger room [in the dream] is the deeper inside of the body, junk, dirt and many people, the objects and dangerous faeces it is full of, the place where through his and his wife’s fault, actually through his and his mother’s fault, the good objects, formerly horses, now things, are destroyed. Here again it is rats and mice,. bad faeces, and father’s penis, the many people, the foreign bodies he was complaining about some time ago, when he referred to his sudden feeling that he is not a unity, which are at work. K adds that this material was expressing itself in the hate against the Church fathers.’ (File B66. 264) When I read this I wondered what I would have felt if either of my two analysts had spoken to me at length like that about all those objects. Klein reports what B said as follows:
‘B says that he had thought about a quarter of an hour ago
something which may be unimportant, but he feels he should say it.
While I was interpreting he thought of the two dreams – and even
before I had started to give the detailed interpretation about the
rat dream – as an outside and an inside dream. He agrees that this
is an unusual way of putting it. He agrees that he should have
thought an out-of-doors dream and an indoor dream, and that this
way of putting it seemed to confirm my interpretation. K had
pointed out that the woman – mother – was pleasant and loved, and
things turned awful as soon as her inside came into question in
connection with the intercourse. This part of the discussion with
B came later because actually, when he told the thought about
outside and inside dream, he suddenly said, ‘One of these days I
shall kill you’, in quite a special voice. K asks how. He says,
‘With the fist I shall bash your brains in’. K asks for his
phantasies about it, and B replies with a rather grim laughter, ‘I
shall tell them to you when I have done it. I shall ask you to
analyse them when you are dead’. Describes that he sees K as a
corpse with a bashed-in head, and he asking K to analyse him. K
interprets that he might often have felt her sitting there as a
corpse, whom he had destroyed through poisonous words,
associations, etc., but B says very decidedly, that [it] was
different now, that was with the fist. Leaves K without looking at
her at all’. In her notes K adds that his faeces are being I think K was probably quite upset by B’s threat and his anger. In the next session he said it was very painful to him that he could get so carried away by his hate, ‘putting this quite generally’, Klein continues in her notes, ‘and in no relation with K or her feelings about it, or his anxiety of having hurt or frightened her, which, judging from former occasions when he had lost his temper with her, he had felt guilty about, so it is obvious that he should feel some guilt or something after saying such an unusual thing. He says that it was because of K’s sermon, though actually, as K points out to him, it didn’t happen on this occasion, but after his mentioning, or rather recognizing, outside and inside, and K suggests that this wish and actual strong impulse to kill her, was in the transference, to the father, because he was representing the destructive rats inside his mother’s body and his own. Going over the material again, explains that the actual Oedipus situation (not using this word) love to mother, including strong death impulses against father, was unbearable, and had resulted in the relation to his mother which he had called on the razor edge between love and hate. Also that the bashing in of K’s head was partly an attack on K’s body to get hold of the rats, and that I should then actually go on analysing him’.(B66: 266-268) Klein, I thought, was nothing if not persistent. But she didn’t take up the immediate emotional event of the session, B’s anger at her ‘sermon’; she says she represented the father and it was the father B wished to kill.
Klein’s last recorded session with B, in 1948 I will move now to a session in 1948, the last recorded one of her work with B. B himself is in a different mood, and Klein is working rather differently. She pays more attention to the emotional situation of the session, partly the situation between B and herself, but also she pays close attention to how he is feeling in himself. ‘B reports a very pleasant dream he had had. Throughout the dream he had a very pleasant feeling and, unusual for him, that nothing to the contrary entered’. ‘He was in Cornwall and he found in a river a little crystal bottle, very nicely made, which had the initials of both his father and mother in gold on it. He knew that it must have been there for many years and was surprised how well it had kept. To this place in Cornwall he associates pleasant childhood memories, particularly the fact that they could eat seaweed “picking it up as they went along”. The fact that they were allowed this unconventional food ad libitum, stands out against the other aspects of [his] upbringing.’ ‘The first remark of the patient before he told me the dream, had been an appreciation of analysis (which is very rare with him). K suggests that the unconventional food is the analysis. He had been very careful not to let people know he is in analysis and the analysis had shown that he was concerned about his parents - [they] might not have agreed to his being analysed. Now this unconventional food is appreciated and brings up the unconventional food allowed by mother - in the first place the breast feeding in which no such rules as later on would enter .. ‘B says that he felt that the bottle with the mixed initials of both parents was as if they had, after all, been happily united’. ‘Thought which has been very repressed in B - he always felt the unhappiness of the parents, particularly also their sexual unhappiness’. ‘K: depths of rivers and sea had so often in his analysis stood for the inside of the body, his as well as mother’s, also for the analysis which finds things in the depths. He had now discovered that through analysis, the unconventional food. that there is an aspect of the parents, sexually, which is good and also that they are united and preserved in his own mind, in his own inside, which is a way of keeping them alive. The river here standing for his unconscious as well as for his inside. This implies a return to a happy earliest relation to mother – a good feeding situation revived in relation to K and to the analysis’. ‘B: He brought a jar of goat milk to town and when coming into my house thought that he would like to offer it to me and he adds, “There seems to be milk all around”’
‘K: That this milk is the return for the food received in analysis
and for the early food which he would like to return to mother’. ‘He remarks that he is rather surprised that there should have been nothing evil in this dream and can hardly believe that it could all have felt to be so good. In the same hour B has all sorts of associations regarding family life, relation to children, relation to wife – all of a confident nature. His worry about his wife’s health is much lessened. He also expresses his belief in the analysis quite strongly’. ‘K suggests that this change in mood and the complete contrast between the dream with the bottle and the [earlier] blackbird dream are inter-connected. Some relief about his guilt relating to the sexual life of parents and their [word is missing here] has led to a greater conviction that there is an aspect of the parents early married life which is good and which he can preserve inside him self. The little bottle of course represents the breast as well as the two genitals of the parents united in a happy way.
‘B agrees but says the bottle was a very fragile object after all
and could be broken, which indicates anxiety about his being able
to preserve these precious objects against his own attacks.’ (B68:
464-468) And that is the last note in the Archive about B and his analysis. I think we can see not only that B is in a different frame of mind but that Klein’s technique has changed too. She still doesn’t treat the transference as being utterly central in the way many analysts would today, but the feeling between the two of them permeates the session and is spoken about much more than it was 12 years before, and the focus on verbal content and the translation of it into concrete bodily contents is much reduced. And, as a friend remarked after the meeting, it is clear that she was fond of B. I find it moving that Klein kept such detailed records of her work, records that allow us to follow the development of her technique and to relate it to her ideas and her conceptualisations both about technique and about the nature of the mind. They allow us to know more about her character too, with its strange combination of innocence and sophisticated thinking. I hope too that I have managed to convey just a little of the fascination of anthropological research in an Archive, even to those of you who are firmly focused on the ‘here and now’.
Then & Now Edna O’Shaughnessy
In the 1950’s I began an analysis with Dr Charles Anderson, and the night after my first session I had a dream. I shall tell you the dream, because though one meaning is manifest, its unconscious, more interior meanings are hidden – so I shall be able to keep a decent reserve. In my dream I saw a drooling baby sitting on a cloud which was also a pillow. My first ever session had touched me, and I was drooling for more. But the baby in the dream was chubby and I was not – even as a child I had always been skinny. Dr Anderson though was chubby. So what was the dream about? Not telling him my thought that it was he who was chubby (that is, doing a little editing of the kind all patients do), I told him my other associations – which were quite unexpected. And then, how nuanced and surprising Dr Anderson’s understanding of my dream was: unconsciously it linked to a most sad event, not from my infantile past, but from the recent past, and, as emerged in the next few sessions, it had also its connection to my new analyst. Thus, from the start, as is distinctive of a psychoanalysis , the past is there with the present as the psychic reality of a patient starts to emerge in its individuality and interiority. That was the time of a change of work for me. I had just left the study and teaching of philosophy to become a student at the Tavistock Clinic. Dr Bowlby was its Director, and Mrs Bick with Mattie Harris ran the Child Psychotherapy Course. Melanie Klein was still alive; I used to see her among strawberries and cream and cups of tea at the garden parties given each summer by Dr Bowlby. Later I attended a few seminars she gave to the Child Psychotherapists in training: Mrs Klein listened attentively to our presentations; she said only a few things; whether Mrs Klein had usually so quiet a way or whether it was due to us, or perhaps her age, I do not know; we too were quiet, but that was because we were much in awe. During that time I went to stand in the crowd spilling on to the pavement from the garden of Maresfield Gardens to hear Ernest Jones speak at the unveiling of a blue plaque on Freud’s house. Anna Freud –without notes as always- addressed the crowd too; that was the first time I saw either of them; indeed it was the only time I saw Ernest Jones as he died not long after that. Meanwhile I had myself started my first patient. Trainees in the NHS were lucky then: our Tavistock training cases came 5 times a week. My first patient was a small boy of not yet three. Mrs Bick was my supervisor. She was an extraordinary psychoanalytic teacher – if one could accept her fierce impact – her vision a shaft of light on the structure and unconscious phantasies of the inner world. Then, as I was about to begin my second case with Betty Joseph as the supervisor, Dr Anderson died suddenly, shockingly – he was 42 years old. I had been his patient for two years . Six months later I began another analysis with Mr Money-Kyrle. The trauma and tension of Dr Anderson’s death and the new beginning with Mr Money-Kyrle, the inner reverberations of those events, the strain of threatening enactments in life and in work – a few done, most averted, were gradually understood and I was much eased.
Somewhile later I made a discovery of another kind. With all the differences that I could see between Dr Anderson and Mr Money-Kyrle – in appearance, as persons, in their analytic style and focus, and in some of my responses too – there was a process of psychoanalysis that was the same. (This is not always people’s experience, of course –but the factors that make for difference or sameness are not my focus to-night.) Without knowing it I must have been very anxious about the objectivity of psychoanalysis. My huge relief that my subjectivity could be communicated, recognised and evolve with Mr Money-Kyrle in the same overall way – even though some particulars were different – as it had with Dr Anderson, meant to me: psychic reality is a part of nature which under psychoanalytic conditions can be known and empirically studied.
To continue with my Child Psychotherapy training. I had a second gifted teacher, her approach different from Mrs Bick’s, as the supervisor of my latency case – Betty Joseph focused on the immediate reciprocal interactions between patient and therapist, and how it is in these that the patient’s anxieties and unconscious phantasies can be found. Next I had Hanna Segal for my adolescent case –again a different experience. My patient was a pre-schizophrenic youth. As well as trying to help me to function in his silences and dead wastelands – which I was finding difficult – Dr Segal also brought to the supervisions a marvellously strong, clear theoretical understanding of his overall predicament.
Once qualified as a Child Psychotherapist I had a practice as a Child Analyst and also a part-time lectureship at the Institute of Education in the Child Development Department that had been started by Susan Isaacs. I remained in touch with the Tavistock and at that time Donald Meltzer gave me some imaginative supervision.
Then, in the ‘60’s I trained at this Institute. Herbert Rosenfeld was my first supervisor. He had an extraordinary understanding of the furthest and strangest reaches of psychic reality and of the intrusive relationships people make with one another. I had Hanna Segal again for my second training case.
All these primary teachers, like primary objects, are still important to me: in conjunction with my analysis from Mr Money-Kyrle they laid my clinical foundation. They did not tie me down, they let me find my own way. I remember an audacious piece of acting out with a member of my family by my first adult patient, a repetition of a secret circumstance in her childhood. I suspected she knew I knew of it. She kept it secret in the analysis too and never spoke of it. Dr Rosenfeld’s view was that I should wait for some aspect of this worrying situation to appear in some form or another in her material; it did not. I grew increasingly anxious and wanted to introduce the subject into the analysis myself. I remember Dr Rosenfeld eventually saying to me 'Well - if you really think so, do it. But that wouldn’t be my technique. Try it - and we can see what happens'. I hope that I, in my turn as a supervisor of subsequent generations, may have given to my students something of what was given to me.
There were also other important personages in the British Society who created the scientific and clinical atmosphere of those times - Adam Limentani, William Gillespie, Michael Balint, Ilse Helman , John Klauber, Pearl King, Walter Joffe, Joe Sandler. And Bion was still there. To my regret I was too late for a supervision with him - he was leaving London for America.
I have worked as a psychoanalyst for 50+ years. That drooling baby (in the dream I told you about at the start of this talk) was yearning for something it needed for itself, and also, at that time, for a different sort of work. I was not disenchanted with philosophy ( I still am not) but philosophy was too purely conceptual – at least for me, and also I think beyond my temperament and capacity. I wanted work more practical and human, and adventurous– and that I have found in psychoanalysis. What has emerged from all these years of analytic experience? One thing is that the particularity of each patient brings always also some aspect of the universal: that’s how clinical practice and theory meet. Another thing is that anxiety – its degree and its content about the self and objects - is central in the psychic reality of our patients and in us in our role as analysts. As an analyst I have seen myself succeed, and fail, and partially fail; I have seen my patients, and the patients of others, in their very different ways change and sometimes fail to change, and how the limits and kind of change may seem to be internal to the patient, and yet anxious questions remain about whether a patient’s limit is only with this or that particular analyst, or whether psychoanalysis itself has as yet discovered no way forward, or whether there is no way forward. You see, I have learnt that it is not always true that when there is a problem there is a solution.
When I started at the Tavistock 50+ years ago I was struck (I think it is not too much to say) I was struck with wonder at the inner psychic landscape, at the psychoanalytic method, at Freudian theory and its Kleinian development. Later, in this Society, I gained a broader focus and knew other developments of Freud, and saw also the perplexities – clinical, theoretical, training, institutional – of the plurality of our psychoanalytic field. Some things have not changed for me. I marvel still at psychic reality and still with each patient – my own or others'– have a sense of privilege and a complex expectancy about the unknown, and, it must be added, hazardous analytic journey. But these days I am more aware than I used to be of all the territory we do not understand.
I am grateful for my long working life in the BPAS. I know I have sometimes given offence here, and I confess, I have also taken offence, but such things, like some of the Society’s repetitive frustrations, are far outweighed by the sharing of common anxieties and the many pleasures and the pride of being a member of the British Society.
When you are old, and look back, sometimes you want to say: ‘O call back yesterday, bid time return.’ (Richard II:III, ii, 54) it is a wish for the chance to do things again, differently or better. More often though I find I want to say: ‘Let me see into the future. How will psychoanalysis be?’ Will it have been transformed by some new genius? - in ways I, we, cannot now imagine.
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