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Freud's dangerous advice, that patients be urged to remember "consciously" and to articulate verbally as soon as possible what they are unreflectingly acting out, seems to originate in his limited understanding of human language and "consciousness." Freud was of the opinion (see pp. 214ff.) that nothing could become "con­scious" (and thus be prevented from converting itself into a neurotic symptom) which was not connected with the memory-traces of the sound of the name or word belonging to it. In unreflected-upon perception and action, however, there is as genuine an appropria­tion and unfolding of world-disclosing possibilities of behavior as takes place when we are moving within the realm of verbal utter­ances. For an unreflected-upon mode of spontaneous behavior also belongs to human language in its deepest sense. It, too, presupposes an awareness of the meaning and the references of the beings encountered. In fact, it precedes by far any conceptual reflection and knowledge of spoken words. The genuineness and priority of such an unreflected-upon, "merely" acted out, appropriation of new ways of relating can easily be demonstrated. Every experienced analyst knows patients who recognized, and reflected upon, all their im­portant "fixations" to earlier "love objects," who came to clothe these recognitions in proper and adequate words and concepts, and who even realized the full emotional content belonging to these relations—all without the slightest therapeutic effect. On the other hand, there are scores of patients who lost forever all their neurotic symptoms without any remembering of earlier 'love objects," with­out any conceptualized or verbalized recognition of the hitherto warded-off possibilities of relating to their fellow human beings, but solely by unreflectingly acting out—and thereby appropriating and accepting—their immediately lived behavior toward the analyst.

The Dageinsan alytically m o dified han dling of "transference" phe- гтг птл is_t p erha ps, nowhere more d ecisiv e Aerap eiuica2b7^rigri with.«jchiznphrenir. patients.

According to Freud the so-called transference neuroses (cf. p. 122) permit the patient to develop a feeling relationship for the

Daseinsanalytic Handling of "Transference" and "Acting Out" 245

analyst (although Freud erroneously thought that someone other than the analyst was actually the object of the patient's feeling). On the other hand, Freud believed that patients suffering from one of the two "endogenous," "narcissistic" neuroses had encapsulated themselves to such an extent within their "primary narcissism" that they were incapable of any "transference." He felt that such pa­tients were "not suitable for psychoanalysis; at least not for the method as it has been practised up to the present."⁷ It is significant, however, that Freud did not consider it impossible that changes in method would eventually be introduced which would make treat­ment of these patients possible. Daseinsanalysts recognize that Freud's therapeutic resignation in regard to such patients was due toTus inadequate theories. When the therapist grasps the Daseins­analytic insight into the essence of man's being-in-the-world, he also knows how fundame ntal a feature of man's existence "being-always-with-others" is. ''Being-with" is so essential an ingredient of human existence that n^b75d)Tcan perceive another human being, even from afar, without having already entered somehow or other into the specifically attuned relationship toward the world of the other. Applied to the psychotherapeutic situation, this means that therapist an d patient participatejn each other's modes of behavior and of relating to what they commonly encounter. True, such ^wbe!ng-w"ith-another" may be of the nature of distant observing, of neutrality, or even of intense defense. Nevertheless, it is always some mode of participation in the other's being-in-the-world, i.e., some sort of being-with the same things that the partner is with.

From the Dasein s analytic point of view, then, there is no reason todojibijhat_a man who has lost himself in a schizophrenic mode pfexisting h as a chance of recapturing his mature human freedom. in die en counter with a therapist. For the therapist, however, this means an ability to meet the patient on his own ground, namely that of a small child. Tbe^ajialyst must be mature enough to permit the patient to unfold in an atmosphere of complete security, in a relatiojisl up comp arable to that of a molher with an unborn child. Actually, the therapist musF^эЯёгГггшпШп such a relationship for as many years as a pregnancy has months. Thus Freud's statement that these narcissistic psychotics are incapable of showing any transference is true only in a very limited sense. These patients are

⁷ S. Freud, "On Psychotherapy," in SE, Vol. VII, p. 264.

246 Impact of Daseinsanalysis on Traditional Psychoanalytic Techniques

incapable of a "normal" transference relationship with the analyst, if the latter forces them (through his own attitude and manner of meeting them) to adopt a manner of encounter which in no way takes account of their real condition. The condition of schizo­phrenics, even more than that of obsessional neurotics, is char­acterized by their having matured only insofar as the intellectual, peripheral, distance-maintaining, externally acquired modes of thinking and of encountering the most important things and people of their world are concerned. As regards their essential possibilities of relating to beings, they have remained on the level of infants; they have not developed most of the ways of relating to fellow men which belong to the existence of a grown-up person. Thus when they are asked to behave like grown-up people they are over­strained, so to speak. They defend themselves against such demands by withdrawing into so-called schizophrenic autism.

The encounter with a schizophrenic patient changes as soon as the therapist begins to relate to the patient as if the latter were a very small child. This, in turn, enables the patient to permit himself to relate to the analyst in the mode of being to which he is re­stricted for the time being, which is the only one genuinely avail­able to him. But the therapist has an additional task. He must protect these patients against a too vehement onslaught of all those possibilities for relating and disclosing which they are funda­mentally capable of, but which they have not yet made their own. Schizophrenics are decidedly different from healthy small children: the latter are open only to limited realms of beings as compared to adults. Schizophrenics, however, are constantly pressured by the demands of world-aspects to which they cannot respond in the comparatively free way of relating characteristic of the behavior of normal adults.

While schizophrenic patients remain in an infant-mother relation­ship with their analysts, all of their schizophrenic symptoms may dis­appear. They may stop hallucinating and having delusions. Faulty association, autism, lack of emotional rapport, inability to develop transference—none of these may be detected any longer. The reason is that infant-like behavior corresponds to those possibilities of relating which these patients have been able to admit into their own being; it is the admittance of other possibilities, and of the phenomena which they would disclose, which drives them into panic and consequently into psychotic behavior. But the infant-

Daseinsanalytic Handling of "Transference" and "Acting Out" 247

like behavior of which these patients are capable is displayed (pro­vided the therapist is open to the true nature of these patients) with an intensity of feeling which is the very opposite of an in­ability to "transfer" feelings. This is what gives Sullivan a right to state (although with an inadequate theoretical formulation and going to the other extreme) that schizophrenics are not only capable of transferring but are indeed capable of nothing else but transferring.⁸

It must be repeated, however, that the Daseinsanalytic concep­tion of schizophrenic (and manic-depressive) behavior does not touch upon the question of whether the inhibition of maturing, which is at the root of the "narcissistic neuroses," is constitutional or acquired through inadequate treatment by persons important to the patient. This much can be said, however: the genuine maturing of a patient who is potentially capable of reaching maturity can be initiated only if the therapist meets the patient in a manner ap­propriate to an encounter with a small child. Even in cases where "cure" (in the sense of adjustment to the world of adults) is not possible, perhaps for constitutional reasons, Daseinsanalytically oriented therapy can often free the patients of painful tensions and "hallucinations." The improvement we observe in cases of this sort may be compared to the recovery of the pancreas in diabetics whose diet is tailored to the capacity of this organ.

⁸ See P. Mullahy, ed., The Contributions of Harry Stack Sullivan, A Symposium, New York, 1952, p. 105; С Thompson, Psychoanalysis: Evolution and Development, New York, 1950, p. 105.

Tne Psychoanalytic "Wny?" ana the Daseinsanalytic "Why Not?"

The Daseinsanalyst often asks his patients, "Why not?" thereby encouraging them to ever greater tests of daring. "Why is it that you don't dare to behave in such-and-such a manner during the analytic session?" is a question which is often asked in place of the usual analytic "Why?" If the "Why?" comes too early, before the anal-ysand has had sufficient time for acting out, it puts too great demands on him and may worsen his condition instead of improv­ing it. Most patients are caught in a mechanistic, causal-genetic interpretation of themselves. If we ask "Why?" prematurely, they will in most cases understand this to mean that they should look for the cause of their present behavior in an earlier period of their lives. At the same time, we may awaken false hopes in them. They may get the impression that simply finding the presumed cause of suffering (an event in early childhood which "fixated libido" at a specific level of development) will remove the obstacles against getting well. But in the strict sense of the term, no event in the life history of a person can ever be the. "cause" of neurotic symptoms. Personal experiences merely initiate inhibitions against fully carry­ing out all possible interpersonal and interworldly relationships (cf. our discussion of transference, pp. 122 ff.).

Any understanding and emotional experiencing of the parents' inadequate behavior which stunted the growth of a patient in his youth, must be complemented by the tirelessly repeated question, Why does he still, this very day, not dare to free himself of the restricting mentality of his childhood? If this most important question is neglected, even in the later phases of therapy, the treat­ment may easily become sterile and end up with the patient's eternal and stereotyped accusations against his parents.

It is true, of course, that many modern psychotherapists no

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The Psychoanalytic "Why?" and the Daseinsanalytic "Why Not?" 249

longer understand the "Why?" of psychoanalysis as a question in­tended to elicit causes. Their questioning is actually meant to elicit illustrations from the life of the analysand which will make the meaning—not the cause—of his symptoms clearer to him. Neverthe­less, even those analysts often demand too much of the analysand; their questioning implies a demand that the patient verbalize a "reasonable," cognitive explanation of his behavior. Such a demand ignores the immature and child-like constitution of a neurotic person; it overburdens him; it touches him only on the surface, by appealing to inauthentic (for him), learned, intellectual modes of relating. The following two illustrations from case histories may serve to emphasize our point.

The author once asked "Why?" in an attempt to enable a patient, a thirty-five-year-old woman, to come to a quick rational under­standing of her acting-out. The question was asked at the wrong time; although the worst could eventually be avoided, the question probably added two years to the analysis. What happened was as follows. The patient, after tremendous inner resistance had been overcome, got off the couch and began to kneel on the floor, lean­ing against the couch. When the analyst asked her why she was doing this, she interpreted his question (as is only too often the case) as a prohibition. In reality, the analyst, faithful to Freud's advice, had intended to transform her acting-out into a memory. The (supposed) meaning of this kneeling gesture was to be under­stood intellectually and expressed verbally. But the patient was not ready for such expression. Her condition was still comparable to that of a small child; she was still capable of expressing what she wanted to express only in the language of gestures appropriate to a small child.

Her kneeling was not an acting-out of repressed memories at all. She had no memories of kneeling, repressed or otherwise, for the simple reason that her actual relationship to her parents had been of a kind which had never permitted either kneeling or wanting to kneel. Actually, her effort to kneel was her first open attempt to make up for what she had never had, a groping plea to be per­mitted to be a trusting child—a child who may sit at mother's knees and lean her head against them.

If a child kneels against his mother's knees, he usually does not talk, much less explain what he is doing. The only adequate expres-

250 Impact of Daseinsanalysis on Traditional Psychoanalytic Techniques

sion of the relationship is through gestures, possibly accompanied by inarticulate sounds of pleasure. Conceptually articulated think­ing and talking about the experience must necessarily destroy the validity of the experience. If he asks this of a patient, the analyst drives him into artificial adulthood, where true maturation and recovery becomes impossible.

At this point in the course of the woman's analysis, everything depended on whether she would be permitted to experience an undisturbed, trusting mother-child relationship. Within the frame­work of such a relationship, the patient should have been given permission to kneel in the analyst's presence for some time to come. The author realized only much later how inadequate his questions were. He had interfered with, rather than abetted, her recovery. When he first noticed her intention to kneel, he should not have asked, "Why?" If anything, he might have ventured to ask, "Why not?" thereby encouraging her. Only such encouragement on the part of the analyst would have induced the patient to follow Freud's basic rule to state everything that comes to mind. Her kneeling— a way of talking in the language she had mastered—would have been compliance with Freud's rule.

More than two years were required before the resistance aroused by the analyst's misplaced question was overcome and new trust established, creating the condition for the emergence of world-relations which the patient had defended herself against up until then. The main cause of this resistance was not fear of hitherto rejected possibilities of living. Nor was it fear of greater freedom; she had no desire to adhere to familiar, albeit painful, behavior patterns. Nor were the two years of. fruitless complaints by the patient due to a masochistic "repetition compulsion" arising from the unconscious. This resistance was strictly of the analyst's mak­ing. It had been released by his misunderstanding of the pa­tient's infantile longing for trust. He had overtaxed her. He had demanded that she understand her longing as an adult would (namely, on an intellectual level), while at this stage of her de­velopment only a silent gesture could genuinely carry out what she felt and what she was.

In another case, that of a male analysand, the author questioned even Freud's sacrosanct basic rule by asking, "Why not?" A com­pulsive patient, a physician, interpreted this rule—to tell all that comes to mind—as a confirmation of his conception of life as inces-

The Psychoanalytic "Why?' and the Daseinsanalytic "Why Not?" 251

sant slavery. Much too late (two years after the start of analysis), the analyst asked the analysand (who was, as usual, pedantically and conscientiously torturing himself to be sure to say everything) why he did not permit himself for once to not say everything? Only then did the patient dare, little by little, to relax the laws within which his existence was encased. Eventually, he felt as comfortable in breaking commands in the analytic situation as a child feels in his soft bed. This was the turning point in an analysis which had seemed hopeless until then.

Breaking the basic rule of psychoanalysis seems to imply ex­orbitant freedom. Nonetheless, this patient underwent the supreme frustration in Freud's sense, although it was frustration of a specific kind. The question "Why not?" frustrated his persistence within his usual, compulsive behavior patterns. The patient himself stated that this frustrating permissiveness (or permissive frustration) had "shaken his world." It had pulled the rug out from under all the world-relations he had hitherto known. Later, the same "Why not?" shook his world in another fashion. It became a healing factor. It gave him, for the first time, an opportunity to be a small child who did not have to be or do anything in particular. After he had over­come the fear of going insane, he was able to move into a freer relationship to the world and finally to achieve maturity as a free and candid self.

Frustration and Permissiveness in tne Li^nt or Daseinsanalysis

One may well ask how our championing of acting-out can be squared with Freud's emphatic requirement that the analytic cure be carried out in an atmosphere of frustration. Is an analysis carried out according to the principles we have enumerated still "psycho­analysis"? We believe it is; we believe that an analysis in which transference and acting-out are handled in the ways we have in­dicated is more in accord with the spirit of genuine psychoanalysis than one based on the current conceptions of these phenomena. Daseinsanalysis permits "ego" to replace "id" in a more c ompre -hensive manner, because the analysand is enabled to becom e "more conscious," in the sense that he can fully take over all the possibil­ities of Hying that areJus. Furthermore, the term 'fcustraTTonTEseTF is questionable. How can frustration in psychoanalysis be dis­tinguished from permissiveness? What may be frustration of some activities of a patient may well be permissiveness in regard to other modes of his behavior. Analysis demands of the analyst that he be! there for the analysand for years, sometimes day after day, and 1 always reliable, benevolent, tactful, and concentrated. Does a ll this lamount to frustration? Is it not, rather, the greatest possible per_r tmissiveness? Is it not truer to say that the analyst permits the analysand devotion, support, and help in an amount that few people ever receive outside of psychoanalysis? It is this imperturb­able, loving devotion on the part of the analyst which arouses an ^equally imperturbable trust in the analysand. This trust is the phe­nomenon which supports the possibihty of genuine cure. Only on this basis can the patient's ability to love come to the fore; only from here can it be extended to ever-growing realms. The analyst's unflagging devotion and the patient's trust, which is its answer, are therefore the conditions for liberation from neurotic bonda g e,. We

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Frustration and Permissiveness in the Light of Daseinsanalysis 253

will, however, look in vain for this most important therapeutic agens in Freud's works. His objectifying, mechanistic theory of instincts does not even have a term for it, because devotion and trust he beyond its borders.

Even what Freudj:e rms fru stration is, nevertheless, permissive­ness. The analyst's refusal to give in to the patient's neurotic de­mands amounts to the preservation of an open realm for all possible manners of relating which are yet to come. This is the reason why the therapist must withstand all short-circuiting modes of behavior on the analysand's part. If the analyst makes the mistake of per­mitting the analysand to admit modes of behavior below the level the patient is capable of, he soon learns that this is anything but povTYiieciVgness. S uch pseudo-permissiveness regularly elicits deep hatred of the analyst on the part of the patient. For such permissive­ness does not contribute to the patient's maturing but, on the contrary, denies and frustrates the unfolding of the patient's exist­ence. Actually, then, such pseudo-permissiveness amounts to the most severe frustration. Therefore, we must requite jMLaoab/sis. be carried out, n ot in an atmosphere of frustration, but rather in an attitude of genuine permissiveness. It must, however, be a per-rmssivelnSFwFich opens up the realm of the patient's true human freedom, a permissiveness which enables the patient to unfold all his world-disclosing possibilities of relating toward the particular beings which he encounters, and to permit them to come into their being within the luminating sphere of his Dasein. Naturally^ such permissiveness definitely includes (so far as is bearable for the patient) frustration of his old, Hmiting, neurotic patterns,of be-havior.

Consequently, it would also be a complete misunderstanding of permissiveness if an analyst were to encourage an unstable, in­stinct-driven psychopath to continue to act out his customary open aggressiveness or his hypersexual lasciviousness. If such a patient is a so-called neurotic psychopath, a genuine permissiveness would consist in reducing his aggressiveness as much as possible by ask­ing him what he actually tries to hide behind this behavior—why, for instance, he seems to be so afraid of, and does not dare show, his feelings of sympathy and true, affectionate love. If the patient is a so-called constitutionally unstable psychopath, the analyst would have to completely abstain from "analyzing." His task would be to replace the non-existent boundaries of such an existence by

254 Impact of Daseinsanalysis on Traditional Psychoanalytic Techniques

prosthetic, disciplinary measures, helping the patient in this way to live as humanly as possible.

Freud successfully defended psychoanalysis against another dan­gerous misunderstanding of genuine permissiveness when he re­jected the defamatory insinuation that he attempted to cure his patients by allowing them to live out all their instincts and impulses. The healing factor in psychoanalysis can never consist in such "living out," but consists, rather, in an increasing appropriation of all of one's life-possibilities as possibilities. Unless a human being has beco me aware of and ac knowle dged as his ow n all his pos-sibilities of relating to what he encounters (whether they please him or his fellow men or not), no true selЈ-knowledgfe,.nQ authentip" responsibility, is possible. The actual carrying out of these pos­sibilities in one's relations toward partners outside the analytic situation, however, is—as must be made very clear to analysands— a completely different question, and must be in accord with the most productive unfolding of a patient's whole existence, including the welfare of those whom he encounters. Therefore, all of our "Why not" questions must aim at this therapeutic goal, and never at the encouragement of a reckless "living out."

Daseinsanalytic Handling of "Countertransrerence"

Although Freud was able to use the transference relationship as a psychotherapeutic tool, he steadfastly held the opinion (in his scientific works) that all feelings of sympathy and antipathy on the part of the analyst must necessarily be detrimental to the analytic cure. For this reason the analyst must master such feelings through his own analysis. An example of Freud's opinion in the matter is the following passage, published in 1910: "We have become aware of the 'counter-transference', which arises [in the physician] as a result of the patient's influence on his unconscious feelings, and we are almost inclined to insist that he shall recognize this counter-transfer­ence in himself and overcome it."¹ Consequently Freud advised analysts to put aside all feelings and pattern themselves after the coldness of a surgeon. The result of Freud's advice was that analysts began to regard the so-called countertransference as one of the greatest dangers to an analysis and to fear its occurrence.

However, all those lucky enough to work analytically under Freud's own guidance made the discovery that the master himself by no means followed his own instructions pedantically. The poet H. D., for instance, writes as follows:

The Professor himself is uncanonical enough; he is beating with his hand, with his fist, on the headpiece of the old-fashioned horsehair sofa that had heard more secrets than the confession box of any popular Roman Catholic father-confessor in his heyday. This was the homely historical instrument of the original scheme of psychotherapy, of psychoanalysis, the science of the unravelling of the tangled skeins of the unconscious mind and the healing implicit in the process. Consciously, I was not aware of having said anything that might account for the Professor's outburst. And

1 S. Freud, "The Future Prospects of Psycho-Analytic Therapy," in SE, Vol. XI, pp. 144-145-

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256 Impact of Daseinsanalysis on Traditional Psychoanalytic Techniques

even as I veered around, facing him, my mind was detached enough to wonder if this was some idea of his for speeding up the analytic content or redirecting the flow of associated images. The Professor said, "The trouble is—I am an old man— you do not think it worth your while to love me."²

Freud's personal letters to his friends also contain remarks con­cerning countertransference which show that he retained a greater freedom of thought than his collected works would indicate. Thus Freud writes to Ferenczi in 1910, "I am not the psycho-analytical superman that you constructed in your imagination, nor have I overcome the counter-transference."³ Even more revealing is the following passage from a letter to Ludwig Binswanger in 1913:

[The problem of countertransference] is one of the most difficult ones technically in psychoanalysis. I regard it as more easily solvable on the theoretical level. What is given to the patient should indeed never be a spontaneous affect, but always con­sciously allotted, and then more or less of it as the need may arise. Occasionally a great deal, but never from one's own Ucs. This I should recognize as the formula. In other words, one must always recognize one's counter-transference and rise above it; only tiien is one free oneself. To give someone too little because one loves him too much is being unjust to the patient and a technical error. All this is not easy, and perhaps possible only if one is older.⁴

The Daseinsanalytic understanding of man agrees with these words as completely as it disagrees with Freud's previously men­tioned demand that the analyst be cold and dispassionate. Why did Freud contradict himself so thoroughly on such an important issue? Why was he so ambivalent? Besides the positive motive mentioned earlier (see pp. 73-74) it appears that his plea for an affect-less attitude was based on a neurotic need to defend and protect himself. Freud's conflicting statements remind us of those we hear from patients who use the well-known defense mechanisms of isolation and intellectualization. We know that these particular defenses are among those most resistant to cure. The root of Freud's confusion seems to be his identification of affectional coldness (which he de­mands of the analyst) with the absence of countertransference.

The Daseinsanalytic objections to Freud's explanation of the so-

² H. D., Tribute to Freud, New York, 1956, p. 21.

³ E. Jones, The Life and Work of Sigmund. Freud, Vol. 11, New York, 1955, p. 83.

⁴ L. Binswanger, Sigmund Freud: Reminiscences of a Friendship, New York and
London, 1957, p. 50. Trans, by Norbert Guterman.

Daseinsanalytic Handling of "Countertransference" 257

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