67

IV

“I EXPECT that, on the basis of psycho-
analytical theories, you will explain to
me how the development of a nervous ailment
may be conceived!”

I shall try. For this purpose, however, it is
necessary that we study our “I” and “It” from
a new point of view. We shall have to look
upon these two factors as to their dynamic
values, that is, in regard to the forces active in
and between them. You will remember that
previously we restricted ourselves to the de-
scription of the psychical apparatus.

“I am only hoping that things won’t be so
impossible to grasp.”

I do not think so. As a matter of fact, I be-
lieve that you will soon comprehend the whole
system. To start with, let us assume that those
forces which actuate the soul apparatus are
generated by the different organs of our sys-

68

tem, as the result of important needs of our
body. Don’t forget what the poet-philosopher
Schiller once said:

Until philosophy sublime,
Supremely rules the course of time,
The world, in oldest fashion,
By hunger moves, and passion.

Hunger and Passion are two very powerful
agents!

The needs of our body which stimulate the
soul into action–actuate the soul, as I referred
to it before–we call urges.

It is these urges which fill the “It.” All
energies generated by the “It” were incepted
by these urges. The powers of the “I” have
no other origin either, inasmuch as they are
derived from the “It.”

What, now, do these urges want?

They want to be satisfied, that is, they en-
deavor to create such situations whereby the
needs of our body are gratified.

As soon as any tension, created by our urges,
slackens simultaneously with the satisfied crav-
ings of our body, our Consciousness experi-

69

ences a pleasurable sensation, whereas an in-
tensification of our urges will soon enough
result in decided displeasure. In accordance
with these fluctuations of pleasurable and dis-
tressing sensations, our soul apparatus regu-
lates its activity. Thus, the rule of the Pleasure
Principle manifests itself.

Intolerable conditions develop in case the
urges of the “It” are not satisfied. Experience
proves that situations of complete gratification
can only be achieved in contact with the outer
world. Thus, that part of the “It” which faces
the outer world, i. e., the “I,” assumes its func-
tions. While the driving power is produced by
the “It,” it is the “I” which then assumes the
management, takes the steering wheel in hand,
so to speak, without which the coveted goal
could never be reached.

It is characteristic of the urges of the “It”
that they are always bent upon immediate,
rash gratification without ever attaining their
ends, but frequently exposing themselves to
severe harm. Therefore, it devolves upon the
“I” to forestall such failure, by mediating be-
tween the reckless demands of the “It” and

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the practical outer world. Thus, the censorial
activity of the “I” makes itself felt in two
different directions.

On one hand, the “I,” assisted by that organ
which conveys to it the reactions of an outer
world, scans the horizon, as it were, in an at-
tempt to seize upon the most opportune mo-
ment for a harmless gratification of the urges
prompting it. On the other hand, the “I” ex-
erts a restraining influence on the “It,” con-
trolling its “passions” and inducing its urges
to postpone their gratification, or modify
them, or renounce them for some compensa-
tion, as the case may be.

Restraining the reckless “It” in such a way,
the “I” replaces the formerly predominant
Pleasure Principle with the so-called Reality
Principle which, although striving for the
same ends as the Pleasure Principle, never-
theless considers such practical necessities as
the outer world imposes.

Later on, the “I” discovers that there is an-
other way of insuring gratification of urges
than adaptation to the outer world. This newly
discovered method consists of changing con-
 

ditions in the outer world in such a way as to
bring about circumstances favorable for grati-
fication. This activity of the “I” constitutes its
most supreme achievement. Sufficient discern-
ment to perceive when it is opportune to stifle
passions and when it is opportune to either
face or fight the realities of the outer world is,
after all, the Alpha and Omega of practical
wisdom.

“As I understand you, the ‘It’ is by far the
stronger of the two. How, then, is it possible
that the ‘It’ will permit the weaker ‘I’ to hold
sway over it?”

The “I” is well in a position to exert such
influence over the “It,” provided its organiza-
tion and efficiency is in no way hampered. Be-
sides, access to all parts of the “It” must be
such as to enable the “I” to bear sufficient in-
fluence on the “It.” There is no inherent oppo-
sition between the “I” and the “It,” both be-
longing together. In cases of normal health,
it is practically impossible to distinguish be-
tween the two.

“All this appears quite clear to me. How-
ever, what I cannot understand is that under

[71]

[72]

such ideal conditions, there could be any
chance at all for disturbances to arise?”

You are perfectly right! As long as the “I”
discharges its duties fully, and its relations to
the “It” are maintained in a satisfactory man-
ner, no nervous disturbances will develop.
However, disturbances are liable to arise at
some unsuspected spot. This will not surprise
the well-informed pathologist, but merely con-
firms the fact that the most essential develop-
ments and evolvements contain the very germ
for diseased conditions and the breakdown of
functions.

“This is too learned for me! I cannot follow
you any more!”

I shall have to digress for a little. You will
admit that a human being is a puny, helpless
thing in comparison to that tremendous outer
world, full of destructive agencies. Any primi-
tive being who did not develop a sufficiently
strong “I” organisation, is subject to all these
“traumata.” Such a primitive being will
achieve no more than just a “blind” gratifica-
tion of its urges, frequently to be destroyed in
this way.

[73]

The Problem of Lay-Analyses

The evolvement of an “I” is, most of all, a
step towards insuring maintenance of life.
Destruction as such does not teach anything.
But after overcoming a trauma successfully,
attention will be attracted by similar situations
and danger will be signalized by a fear affect
—a shortened reproduction of what was lived
through during the trauma. This reaction to
approaching danger results in an attempt at
flight, which is maintained until sufficient
strength is generated to oppose the danger
arising from the outer world in an active man-
ner, perhaps even by taking recourse to ag-
gression.

“All this seems to be far, far different from
what you promised me.”

You don’t realize how close I have already
come to the fulfillment of my promise to you.
Even in such living beings who later on de-
velop an efficient “I”-organisation, this “I” is
quite weak in the years of childhood and only
slightly different from the “It.”

And now, I ask you to visualize what would
happen in case this powerless “I” is actuated
by an urge arising from the “It”—an urge

74

which the weak “I” would like to resist, be-
cause it feels that a gratification of this urge
may involve danger, may result in a traumatic
situation, a collision with the outer world.

Alas, the weak “I” cannot sum up enough
strength to resist.

Then what?

Then, the “I” deals with the danger, aris-
ing from an “It”-inspired urge, in exactly the
same way that an exterior danger would have
to be faced. The “I” makes an attempt at
flight, deserting this specific part of the “It”
and leaving it to its fate. It refuses all such as-
sistance as it usually renders to urges arising
from the “It.” We refer to such a case as a re-
pression of urges by the “I.”

For the time being, danger is thus parried,
but to confound inner and outer world is cer-
tain to invite punishment. Running away
from oneself is a thing that cannot be done!
In a case of repression, the “I” succumbs to
the Pleasure Principle which it otherwise
strives to correct. Thus, it is the “I” upon
which damage is inflicted in such cases of re-
pression. This damage consists of the “I”

The Problem of Lay-Analyses

experiencing a lasting restriction in its own
sphere of rule. The repressed urge is now
isolated, left to itself, unapproachable, and
cannot be influenced. The repressed urge now
goes its own way. Frequently, even after the
“I” has attained power, it proves impossible
to release this repression. With its synthesis
disturbed, a part of the “It” remains forbid-
den ground to the “I.”

The isolated urge does not remain idle,
however. Because normal gratification was
denied it, it contrives to compensate itself by
engendering psychical derivates which take its
place and, connecting with other psychical ac-
tivations, estrange them to the “I.” Finally, in
the form of an unrecognizable substitute, the
isolated urge penetrates to the “I” and to con-
sciousness, presenting itself as what is known
as a “symptom.”

We now become aware of what a nervous
disturbance is. We perceive an “I” hampered
in its synthesis, unable to exert any influence
on certain parts of the “It.” In addition, the
“I” must renounce some of its inherent activ-
ities, to avoid new collisions with the re-

[75]

76

pressed urge. We perceive an “I” exhausting
itself in mostly unavailing defensive measures
against symptoms that are nothing other than
results of the repression. Moreover, it becomes
evident now that in the “It,” some urges have
assumed independence. They aim at their own
gratification without any concern for the
whole, subject only to such primitive psy-
chology as reigns in the lowermost depths of
the “It.”

Observing such a state of affairs, we face
the quite simple situation in which the “I,”
attempting to repress certain parts of the “It,”
proceeded in an utterly unsuitable manner.
Consequently, the “I” has failed in its inten-
tion and now the “It” is taking revenge on the
“I.” This revenge of the “It” on the “I” re-
sulted in nothing less than a neurosis.

Accordingly, a neurosis is the result of a
conflict between the “I” and the “It,” a con-
flict–as investigations will show–forced
upon the “I,” because the latter insisted on
maintaining its state of pliability, in reference
to an outer world. The conflict, in fact, is one
between the “It” and the outer world. How-
 

77

ever, because the “I,” faithful and true, takes
sides with the outer world, it becomes en-
tangled in this conflict of the “It” with the
outer world.

Note that the condition of nervous disturb-
ances is not induced by the conflict between
the “I” and the “It” but rather by the fact that
the “I,” for the purpose of settling this con-
flict, availed itself of the unsuitable agent of
repression. As a rule, conflicts between reality
and the “It” are unavoidable, and it is a rou-
tine task for the “I” to act as a mediator in
such cases. That in the case of this specific
conflict which we have under observation just
now, the “I” took recourse to repression as
agent, is due to the fact that at this time the
“I” was powerless and immature. After all,
repressions of lasting importance occur ex-
clusively during early childhood!

“What a round-about route you are taking!
However, I shall heed your advice and will
try not to criticize you. You were going to
explain to me what psychoanalysis assumes to
be the reason for neurosis and how such condi-
tions may be combated. There are quite a num-

[78]

ber of questions which I shall ask you later
on. At present, I am tempted to venture a
theory based on your own trend of thought.

“You have pointed out to me this interrela-
tion between outer world, and the ‘I’ and the
‘It.’ As an indispensable condition for the
development of a neurosis, you have men-
tioned the fact that the ‘I,’ on account of its
dependency on the outer world, opposes the
‘It.’ However, is not some other course for
the ‘I’ possible? For example, could not the
‘I,’ in such a conflict be simply swept off its
feet by the “It,” so to speak, renouncing all
dependency on the outer world?

“What, then, happens in such a case?

“Of course, I have merely the conception
of the typical lay mind when it comes to
visualizing the development of mental dis-
eases, but it seems to me that such diseases
may be easily induced if the ‘I’ would really
decide to side with the ‘It.’ To all appear-
ances, such disregard for realities is the very
reason for mental diseases!”

Of course, I have thought of this myself. I

79

even believe this assumption to be correct. But
in order to prove this hypothesis, quite a com-
plicated discussion would be necessary. Neu-
rosis and Psychosis, to all appearances, are
closely related to one another. However, at
some important point, they widely diverge
from each other. The partisanship of the “I”
with the “It,” in a case of conflict, may prove
to be the crossroad where the two seek differ-
ent directions. In both cases, the “It” would
persist in its character of blind obstinacy.

“But, pray, tell me what advice your theory
offers for the treatment of neurotic condi-
tions?”

It is quite simple to describe our therapeutic
goal: We aim at restituting the “I” and liber-
ating it from its restrictions, restoring to the
“I” once more the sovereignty over the “It”
which it lost, on account of early repressions.
Psychoanalysis, in general, aims at this goal;
our whole technique strives for this end. It is
up to us to discover those repressions, to induce
the “I” to correct them with our assistance,
and to settle conflicts more satisfactory than

[80]

by a mere flight. Inasmuch as these repressions
are part of our early childhood, psychoanaly-
sis must needs go back to those years of our
life.

The way to those mostly forgotten conflict
situations, which we must revive in the mem-
ory of our “cases,” is pointed out to us by
symptoms, dreams, and “free associations” of
the patient. Of course, all these hints must
first be interpreted, translated, as it were, be-
cause these symptoms and dreams, under the
influence of the psychology of the “It,” have
assumed various disguises which it is our pur-
pose to penetrate.

If a patient communicates to us certain
ideas, thoughts and memories after long hesi-
tation only, we feel safe in assuming that they
have some connection with his early repres-
sions, or are, at least, derivates of such. By en-
couraging the patient to conquer his hesitancy
when talking to us, we are training his “I” to
overcome its tendency to “run away” and
rather face that early repression. At the end,
after we have been successful in reproducing
the situation which originally induced his re-
 

[81]

pression, the complacency of the patient is
splendidly rewarded. The number of years
that have meanwhile elapsed prove to be all
in favor of the patient. What once scared his
immature “I” and threw it into panic and
flight, appears to the adult-strengthened “I”
nothing more than just a childish bugaboo.