ORIGINAL ARTICLE
Historiography and psychoanalysis
PER MAGNUS JOHANSSON
Department of History of Ideas and Theory of Science, Gothenburg University, Sweden
Abstract
The act of writing the history of psychoanalysis poses crucial questions with regard to the openness of society. This article
examines the fundamental issues faced by researchers when they set about writing the history of psychoanalysis in a specific
country. The significance of reconstructing features of the psychoanalytical practice is discussed. The opposition that exists
between the current academic ideals and those of the psychoanalytic societies is outlined with reference to the changes that
society has undergone, particularly during the past 30 years. In this context, the stance maintained by psychoanalysts with
regard to psychiatry, academic psychology, and the university education of psychotherapists is defined. Government
accreditation processes for psychologists and psychotherapists are likewise illustrated in the light of the opinions held by
psychoanalysts at different moments in time.
Key words: Archives, France, history of psychoanalysis, psychotherapy, Sweden, university
This article addresses some of the central questions
and issues that tend to arise during scholarly
attempts at documenting the history of psychoanalysis. My intent is to illuminate the potential
issues brought to the fore in any given country while
recording the history of psychoanalysis. This piece
was prompted by my own efforts with regard to the
history of psychoanalysis in Sweden, a task that
has occupied my thoughts for more than a decade. I
have taken the opportunity to discuss these thoughts
whenever I have found myself in an academic
environment, or among researchers or psychoanalysts, in Gothenburg as well as in Paris.
During the past 15 years, for the most part in
Paris, the historian Elisabeth Roudinesco and I have
discussed the problems associated with writing the
history of psychoanalysis. It was Elisabeth who, in
the early 1990s, prompted me to take on the task of
writing the history of psychoanalysis in Sweden. She
paid her last visit to Gothenburg in September
2006, where we had a public discussion on the
theme ‘‘the historiography of psychoanalyses.’’ Over
the same period of time, I also shared my thoughts
with Sven-Eric Liedman, who, for the past 27 years,
has supervised research studies at the department of
History of Ideas and Sciences at the University of
Gothenburg. Our talks inspired me to carry out my
work with the history of psychoanalysis in Sweden. I
have also regularly had discussions on historiography
with the Swedish historian of psychology, Ingemar
Nilsson, active at the same department as myself and
Liedman.
Four overall aspects that ought to be taken into
consideration when describing the history of psychoanalysis will be discussed here. To begin with, the
historian must form an opinion of psychoanalysis
from both an external and an internal perspective,
and then examine the consequences of the differences that appear. As a theory, psychoanalysis
has regularly drawn external and, to a large extent,
destructive criticism. When looking at psychoanalysis over time, a picture of inner conflicts emerges. In
many countries, these conflicts have clearly marked
its path and make scientific assessment a difficult
task.
Second, the historian must consider the fact that
the training of psychoanalysts takes place within
private associations, and not in educational institutions regulated by the state. Hence, there is no
accredited authorization for members of the psychoanalytic profession, and no formal qualifications for
psychoanalysts exist. This results in a certain lack of
Correspondence: Per Magnus Johansson PhD, Haga Kyrkogata 26, 411 23 Go¨teborg, Sweden. E-mail: per.magnus.johansson@swipnet.se
International Forum of Psychoanalysis. 2007; 16: 103112
(Received 20 February 2007; accepted 26 February 2007)
ISSN 0803-706X print/ISSN 1651-2324 online # 2007 Taylor & Francis
DOI: 10.1080/08037060701300083
clarity as to who are entitled to call themselves
psychoanalysts. Thus, psychoanalytic associations
and their members often have a complex and
ambiguous relationship to the ideals of the academic
world. At the same time, the often-questioned
position of the private association, combined with
the universal and profoundly human need for
recognition, creates highly charged, sometimes explosive, personal ties between the various members
of the groups and with the representatives of
academic institutions.
Third, certain specific characteristics of the psychoanalytic theory must be taken into account: It
is both a theory pertaining to man as a cultural
being, and a theory pertaining to the treatment of
psychological distress. In other words, it is both a
theory and a practice. This in itself complex aspect is
expressed by the fact that the psychoanalytic transmission of knowledge is effected verbally as well as
by way of the written word, and of the two, the
oral exchange is the most essential part. All in all,
this compels historians to devote themselves to
serious efforts involving in-depth interviews, a thorough investigation of the available archives, and a
comprehensive analysis of the written material.
The transmission of psychoanalytic knowledge
brings the question of training and education to
the fore. My article also addresses the fact that
psychoanalytic training is distinguished by a close
relationship between the aspiring psychoanalyst and
his or her more experienced teachers and supervisors, with particular reference to the very special
bond between the trainee/analysand and the training
analyst. Here, the importance of the oral transmission of knowledge becomes clearly apparent. Right
from the start, the training analysis itself and the
supervision of these sessions*both essential parts of
the training process*are in conflict with standard
academic educational structures. No third, independent or unbiased party is present to observe what
takes place during this phase of the training, which
amounts to a procedure that goes contrary to the
ideals and demands of publicly regulated courses of
education. Instead, the prevailing ideal in psychoanalytic theory emphasizes this close relationship as
the starting point and necessary prerequisite to
obtain a deeper knowledge of the candidate’s unconscious wishes and conflicts.
The fourth aspect is the question of the archives.
This will be discussed, as will its relationship to the
three other abovementioned aspects. The archives,
which can be defined as the actual physical space in
which written records and other kinds of testimonials of the psychoanalytic movement have been
preserved, have a crucial function in understanding
the history of psychoanalysis. All four of these
aspects have their implications with regard to historiography.
Presently, psychoanalysis has been introduced in
approximately 35 countries, but its history has been
recorded in only a few of these, such as France,
Sweden, and the USA. In several countries, the
accounts are only partial or fragmental. There are
several difficulties inherent in portraying the history
of psychoanalysis, and the work is time-consuming
and demands much patience. I will, in line with the
structure outlined above, describe how these difficulties are manifested and, at the same time, provide
some explanations of their origin and nature.
I will attempt to decipher some of the issues within
the aforementioned problem areas with the help of
dichotomies and oppositions that characterize both
psychoanalysis and the work involved in reconstructing the history of psychoanalysis. The first dichotomy is the one that exists between external and
internal problems. Let us begin with the external
circumstances.
An assessment of psychoanalysis
Initially, it must be established that anyone who
takes an interest in psychoanalysis in any of its
configurations addresses a theory that is regularly
attacked and subjected to unyielding criticism by
academicians, particularly those with a foundation
in the natural sciences. This criticism comes from
sources such as psychiatrists rooted in biologistic
thinking, academic psychologists, analytic philosophers, and, furthermore, journalists from different
subject fields; the list is by no means complete.
Other groups or individuals regularly engage in the
criticism of psychoanalysis. These critics have, for
reasons not always altogether clear, taken upon
themselves the task of repudiating Sigmund Freud
(18561939) as well as any psychoanalyst who, in
one way or another, makes references to the founder
of psychoanalysis. These critics appear to be on a
mission: to fervently refute psychoanalysis.
At the same time, there is another group*often
belonging to an individual psychoanalytic society or
organization*that sees it as their duty to defend
psychoanalysis against any and every form of criticism. They make references to psychoanalysis, to
Sigmund Freud, Melanie Klein, Jacques Lacan, the
neo-Freudians or Heinz Kohut (19131981) and a
few others, but cannot, or will not, discuss the
relevance of psychoanalysis, its place in the history
of ideas and its limitations.
The actual or perceived shortcomings of psychoanalysis are seen as an insurmountable threat. These
defenders of psychoanalysis fail to realize that every
theory has evolved in a historical context. In addition
104 P. M. Johansson
to this, they appear to have difficulty understanding
that parts of the theory are coloured by variable
economic, ideological, and social circumstances.
More challenging still for these defence attorneys
of psychoanalysis is putting psychoanalytic theory
in its context with regard to the history of ideas,
and recognizing the precursors of the theory of
the unconscious. They have also found it difficult
to acknowledge the fact that other authors, such as
those within the fields of science or literature, have
written about issues and questions that psychoanalysts see as belonging to their special sphere of
interest and expertise. Accordingly, psychoanalytic
theory has not had enough exposure to the changing
reality it is supposed to understand, and, as a result,
theoretical work has become stagnant. It has become
difficult for the defenders of psychoanalysis to
comment on current and essential issues. In addition
to this, they do not know how to respond to new
empirical findings.
Between these two factions, the critics and the
defenders of psychoanalysis, there is a long history of
mutual suspicion and destructive criticism. In the
eyes of an independent researcher, their clashes
appear to be sadly lacking in intellectual vitality, and
they rarely appear to be an expression of a scientifically interesting dispute or an exchange of ideas. Both
sides seem more interested in fortifying their own
position, and they exhibit a lack of interest in the
thoughts and writings of the other side. Those on the
outside tend to be biased against psychoanalytic
theory and, in line with their preconceived ideas,
discard it too rashly. Those on the inside appear to
have lost their powers of discrimination, and seem
unable to put the psychoanalytic theory in its historical context. The two groups complement each other,
yet there is no true scientific or intellectual exchange.
Conflicts
Yet another task the historian must undertake is to
try to understand the conflicts that have arisen, and
still arise, in the wake of psychoanalysis. These
conflicts involve the previously described unproductive disputes between psychoanalysts and those on
the outside who have decided to take exception
to psychoanalysis. In part, we are talking about
conflicts between psychoanalysts. With regard to
psychoanalytic associations, these conflicts have
occasionally resulted in a rift within these societies
and the rise of new societies. Internal upheaval is
expressed by certain members or factions breaking
away from the society. Conflicts of this nature exist
in most countries where psychoanalysis has been
introduced. So, let us attempt to paint a broad
overview of the situations in France and in Sweden.
Psychoanalysis was introduced into France during
the 1920s, and in 1926, the International Psychoanalytical Association (IPA)-associated and still
active Socie´te´ psychanalytique de Paris (SPP) was
formed. In France, the foremost source of conflict
stems from the early 1950s, due to the controversy
arising between those who chose to follow Jacques
Lacan (19011981) on his path in developing a new
and original contribution to psychoanalytic theory,
and those who chose not to do so.
In 1953, the Socie´te´ Franc¸aise de psychanalyse was
founded as a result of a dispute between psychoanalysts within the SPP concerning lay-analysis,
that is whether it should be possible to work as a
psychoanalyst without being trained as a medical
doctor. (This conflict we know has been important
within the psychoanalytic movement from the 1920s
and onwards, Sigmund Freud raising the issue as
early as in 1926 in The question of lay analysis (1926/
19401952).) For 10 productive years between
1953 and 1963, psychoanalysts with different points
of view then worked together.
This structure subsisted until the next inevitable
institutional division presented itself, and the French
psychoanalysts concerned found themselves again
unable to work within the same society. This was a
division in which the controversy surrounding Lacan
played a decisive role, and which finally resulted in
the banning of Lacan as a training analyst (in
Stockholm, 1963). In 1964, some psychoanalysts
chose to join the then newly founded French, IPAassociated, society L’Association psychanalytique de
France. Others chose to follow Lacan and joined
the E´ cole freudienne de Paris (EFP), a society he
founded in the same year. Five years later, individuals from Lacan’s newly-founded society joined
forces with other professionals from outside the
circle around Lacan, and founded the Organisation
psychanalytique de langue franc¸aise. This has continued to be known as Quatrie`me Groupe, the designation by which it was initially described. After
the dissolution of the EFP in 1980, a number of
psychoanalytic societies and schools appeared in
France. At the time this article was written, some
20 established psychoanalytic societies presently
exist in France; most were founded in the 1980s
and are based in Paris.
In Sweden, the conflicts of the 1950s led, in the
1960s, to a division of the Swedish Psychoanalytical
Society into two separate societies. A holistically
inspired society emerged from the Swedish Psychoanalytical Society. Owing to internal and organizational conflicts within the Swedish Psychoanalytical
Society, a working group was formed in 1963. Their
efforts led, in 1968, to the formal formation of the
Swedish Society for Holistic Psychotherapy and
Historiography and psychoanalysis 105
Psychoanalysis (Svenska Fo¨reningen fo¨r Holistisk
Psykoterapi och Psykoanalys). The original society
(which kept its old name) remained associated with
the IPA, while the new society emerged as a non
IPA-associated psychoanalytic society. At the 2001
International Psychoanalytic Congress in Nice, the
society*which by then had 75 members*applied
for IPA membership. It did so under a new name,
Svenska psykoanalytiska sa¨llskapet (the Swedish Psychoanalytic Association). The application was presented to the IPA after a period of collaboration with
the Swedish Psychoanalytical Society in scientific
matters during the 1990s. The association was
granted membership as a Provisional Society within
the IPA in 2001. It had previously been associated
with the International Federation of Psychoanalytic
Societies. Now, in 2007, the possibility of the two
Swedish psychoanalytic societies uniting and becoming one association is being discussed.
Obviously, the internal conflicts have taken different expressions in different countries and at different
times.1 However, they share a common denominator: the fact that various transference relationships
have been impossible to analyse. Instead, relations
have become charged with emotion, often to the
point at which people have felt offended and
pressured to the limit. Disappointment and resentment directed at former colleagues have forced the
combatant psychoanalysts to go their separate ways.
Many times, as pointed out earlier, this has resulted
in the forming of new psychoanalytic societies. In
accordance with the title of Elisabeth Roudinesco’s
two books about psychoanalysis in France, the 20th
century could justly be characterized as the ‘‘Onehundred-year battle’’.
Writing the history of psychoanalysis is consequently often writing about a theory, represented by
persons who are, or have been, in conflict with each
other. Several of these conflicts are often described
as controversy over theoretical or technical matters.
Some of these conflicts have their actual basis in
theoretical opposition, although not all of them
do. The individual players*the psychoanalysts
involved*are often convinced that the point of
contention has crucial importance. I maintain, however, that it is highly doubtful whether the majority
of these conflicts are indeed of a theoretical nature.
This consequently leaves the historian with a range
of questions to consider, such as: What is concealed
behind a particular theoretical conflict? And what is
its actual content?
It is of great importance to recognize that no
historian can avoid being influenced by a situation
marked by contention and controversy, particularly
when coupled with the concept that one must adopt
a stance, either for or against, regarding a specific
issue (although, naturally, historians are not the only
individuals affected by such a situation). Under such
premises, it is also reasonable to apply psychoanalytic thinking and assume that significant portions of this influence act out on an unconscious
level. However, the fact that an influence is operative
on the unconscious does not make it any less
effective or dramatic. Anyone attempting to record
the history of psychoanalysis should keep this in
mind.
Universities and psychoanalysis
The relationship between academia2 and the psychoanalytic societies has also been marred by all sorts
of conflict. In most countries, there are stories
about psychoanalysts who have felt themselves to
be ill-treated by the academic power elite. In many
cases, psychoanalysts have experienced a sense of
being oppressed or restrained by academia. Their
reactions have ranged from dissociating themselves
completely from the university sphere, to nourishing
a fervent hope of gaining a place in the academic
world of research, or in some cases, even both.
Thus, it is important to take fundamental differences into account, with regard to the predominant
academic tradition among psychiatrists and psychologists, which principally verifies and falsifies hypotheses, compared with the approach within the
psychoanalytic sphere. Psychoanalytical theory is
not regarded as being an evidence-based theory.
These two traditions are based on separate scientific
ideals and different ways of dealing with the question
of truth.
The fact that the training of psychoanalysts takes
place outside the bounds of the university, in
societies run by the psychoanalysts themselves, and
not infrequently by leaders with a vested interest in
the institution, has created a climate of suspicion on
the part of people outside these societies. The
additional fact that Sigmund Freud, and his heirs,
attached a fundamental value to what is known as
training analysis*the analysis undertaken by the
aspiring psychoanalyst under the tutelage of an
older, experienced psychoanalyst*as a means of
achieving professional skills, has also cast a measure
of suspicion on the profession, since this essential
part of the training does not incorporate any
monitoring processes conducted by a third party.
An additional aspect to consider is that the training
analysis process generally has a great deal of impact
on the future of the aspiring psychoanalyst.
The predominant academic and scientific tradition is marked by a pronounced appreciation of
objectivity and impartiality, and the ambition to
make as clear a distinction as possible between what
106 P. M. Johansson
is true or false. In addition to this, there is an
insistence on either verifiable or falsifiable hypotheses. This tradition depends on, and puts its
faith in, experiments, control groups, observation,
testing or similar instruments to produce responses
to hypotheses and questions. Its representatives frequently take exception to psychoanalysis.
Reservations may exist as to whether the personal,
individual clinical experience can indeed generate
universally applicable knowledge, a body of knowledge that goes beyond the particular case at hand.
In some cases, these reservations are replaced by
a firm conviction that such individual cases can
in no circumstances provide evidence to support
a theory. Representatives of traditional scientific
thinking find it difficult to see the capacity for
generalized knowledge that this mode of procedure
gives rise to.
For a long period of time, psychoanalysts have
taken no interest in the standards and demands of
the academic world, and have not infrequently
looked down on anyone who has adopted those
ideals. The exclusive ideal has been to work full time
as a psychoanalyst in private practice and to be as
independent as possible, that is to have little or
no connection with academia or public ventures.
During certain periods, this ideal of independence
prevailed within certain individual psychoanalytic
societies, and psychoanalysts whose activities were
linked to the public sphere were regarded with
suspicion. In several societies, psychoanalysts have
failed to see the value inherent in their members
having various orientations and different types of
assignment. There has been a tendency to look at
private practice as opposed to employment within
the public sphere. The lack of governmental accreditation with regard to the psychoanalytic profession
has also been an important factor.
Psychoanalysts and accreditation
Any individual committing fully to a psychoanalytic
journey needs to realize that this process will involve
certain risks, a fact that is true for most commitments where something is at stake. The individual
who makes a sincere attempt will find that becoming
a psychoanalyst is not only time-consuming and
expensive; it also requires a substantial amount of
commitment and courage. Moreover, there are no
guarantees that the venture will end in success.
This does not distinguish psychoanalysis from
other psychotherapeutic pursuits,3 but the stakes
with regard to time and money invested are generally
higher during the psychoanalytic training experience
compared with the corresponding training process
for a psychotherapist.
Therefore, it can be argued that psychoanalytic
training involves a greater risk. In several countries,
psychoanalysts have periodically found themselves
facing opposition from society and the establishment, which, again, is the case at the beginning of
the 21st century.
The position of psychoanalysis has changed over
time, as we know. Its situation has varied in different
ways in different countries. After the Second World
War, psychoanalysis gained a strong position in the
USA, where it was integrated into academic psychiatry. In Sweden as well, psychoanalysis had a
prominent position between 1960 and 1990. In spite
of this favorable situation, Swedish psychoanalysts
failed to build a foundation for their successors, a
point of departure from which they could partake
in a fruitful scientific exchange of ideas in times
of change. In France, the untiring work of Jacques
Lacan to create a dialogue with a number of other
disciplines has accomplished the following: in
France today, psychoanalysis still holds a strong
position and a given place in public debate.
Of significance in the present context is also the
fact that any account of the history of psychoanalysis
is simultaneously the history of a profession without
any official authorization/accreditation. This matter
has split psychoanalysts into two camps, and here
another dichotomy becomes apparent. Some forces
have worked to establish a governmental authorization process for psychoanalysts. Others have maintained that any need for governmental authorization
and/or approval in this respect is irreconcilable
with psychoanalytic theory and ethics. In France,
there is an ongoing discussion between the adherents
of these two positions, a discussion that also aspires
to understand and clarify the difference between
psychoanalysis and psychotherapy. In Sweden, during the 1950s, a group of psychoanalysts from the
Swedish Psychoanalytical Society lobbied for an
accreditation of the psychoanalytical profession that
would be issued by the government. Although their
efforts came to nothing at that time, the idea of
establishing such an authorization for psychoanalysts
has not been completely abandoned within the
psychoanalytic community.
It should be mentioned that the majority of
Swedish psychoanalysts are either medical doctors
or psychologists as well; these two professions
represent the most common educational foundation
for psychoanalysts in Sweden, as in many other
countries. Consequently, psychoanalysts have, in
most cases, been able to support their authority
with the help of another registered profession. In the
beginning, most psychoanalysts were physicians.
Today, many members of the Swedish Psychoanalytical Society are physicians, but, since 1978, many
Historiography and psychoanalysis 107
have been as likely to be psychologists and registered
psychotherapists. The latter form of authorization
has existed since 1985. However, these professional authorizations have very little relevance
when it comes to the view held by psychoanalytic
societies on who has the right to call themselves a
psychoanalyst.
Within these societies, the view is often expressed
that psychoanalysis and psychotherapy are two
different things. Nevertheless, since 1985, most
Swedish psychoanalysts have been equipped with
some form of double authorization. Furthermore,
the two Swedish psychoanalytic societies both
provide training for psychotherapists leading to a
governmental accreditation in that profession, so
the relationship between psychoanalysis and psychotherapy is still somewhat unresolved in Sweden.
Thus, a Swedish psychoanalyst is typically either a
physician and a registered psychotherapist, or a
psychologist and a registered psychotherapist.
This situation presents certain finer points that
must be considered. Throughout the entire 20th
century, the majority of psychoanalysts have been
highly critical of psychologists and psychotherapists,
and of those psychiatrists who do not incorporate
psychoanalysis into their profession. This criticism
reflects the thought that these occupational titles
indicate the existence of separate disciplines with
disparate concepts of truth. Their therapeutic goals
may also be described being different. These alleged
differences notwithstanding, there have been significant financial and prestige benefits in store for
psychoanalysts who are also physicians. Being a
physician has, in various situations, been useful. To
some extent, this also applies to registered psychologists, even if, due to the lesser amount of prestige
attached to the latter profession, and a generally
lower income level, the benefits are less obvious.
Furthermore, in the history of psychoanalysis*as
illustrated by a Swedish example I have discussed in
earlier publications (Johansson, 1999, pp. 611618;
2006, pp. 1316)*one often comes across categorizations such as ‘‘a real psychoanalyst,’’ as opposed
to ‘‘a so-called psychoanalyst,’’ or a person who
‘‘calls himself a psychoanalyst’’ but who ‘‘is not really
a psychoanalyst’’ but ‘‘merely a psychodynamic
psychotherapist’’, according to the speaker. Here
too, we have two parallel structures. There have been
examples of psychoanalysts who, within a particular
society, have taken upon themselves to informally
determine which members ‘‘truly’’ work and think as
psychoanalysts, and which members have strayed
too far from what is considered to be authentic
psychoanalytic practice, thereby allowing the ideals
and demands of society to trigger concessions that
are too great.
According to commentators from inside these
circles, there are individuals who call themselves
psychoanalysts but who in fact are not ‘‘real’’
psychoanalysts, even though they have completed
the formal training stipulated by the society, and
even though they are approved by its decisionmaking authority. It is also not uncommon for
members of a particular society to entertain the
fundamental idea that their own members, who
are trained within their society or within another
‘‘approved’’ society, are the ‘‘real’’ psychoanalysts,
whereas others merely use the title of psychoanalyst without truly being one (Norman, 1992,
pp. 268277).
This type of behavior has emerged in times when
psychoanalysts have been in demand, and there has
been a pronounced interest in psychoanalysis. Categorizations of this type tend to recede in urgency
when psychoanalysis finds itself less in demand and
more called into question. A decline in demand may
express itself as a lack of opportunity, making it
difficult for young, not yet established psychoanalysts to find a sufficient number of analysands. At the
same time, however, established psychoanalysts
appear to be less productive and passionate with
regard to the psychoanalytic adventure and the
responsibility for the psychoanalytical heritage and
genealogical transmission, that is, in acting for the
future of psychoanalysis. The abovementioned internal deauthorization is a part of the course of
psychoanalytic history; it needs to become*for the
historian as well as for members of the psychoanalytic societies*an object of intellectual analysis
and not repression. It remains to be seen what the
future will bring in this respect.
The transmission of knowledge*theory and
practice
An important aspect, and one that frequently generates opposition, is the fact that psychoanalysis is
both a theory and a practice. Psychoanalysis offers
both a theory about the treatment of individuals with
psychological distress, and a theory of how we, as
human beings, try to find various ways of expressing
ourselves, both in solitude and in the company of
others. Through this ambiguity, psychoanalysis becomes a theory that, in part, deals with man as an
enigmatic creature experiencing a sense of lack, who
is thus compelled to gain access to culture. Additionally, it is a therapeutic technique that, in spite of
a prevailing climate of resistance, has been designed
in relation to psychoanalytic theory, in other words a
practice that generates empirical information.
In this context, it is important to remember that
researchers who devote their time to writing the
108 P. M. Johansson
history of psychoanalysis will end up focusing mainly
on clinicians who have applied themselves to writing
as well. Consequently, when studying the history
of psychoanalysis, one should study how psychoanalysis was introduced in a particular country
by way of its cultural avenues, universities, philosophy, and literature: the intellectual introduction
of psychoanalysis. On the other hand, one should
also study its introduction by way of treatment
aspects; what one might call the medical introduction. During the first half of the last century, this
medical introduction was principally associated
with psychiatry, but after the Second World War,
clinical psychology and psychotherapy also opened
up other medical introductions. This ambiguity
makes it imperative for the historian to possess
a broad base of in-depth expertise. In order to
understand psychoanalysis, it is vital to process the
intellectual and the medical introduction with the
same level of knowledge.
The division between theory and practice is also
present in connection with psychoanalytic training.
The candidates study a variety of classic psychoanalytic texts, they receive supervision and tutoring
with regard to their own work with patients, and, last
but not least, they undergo a training analysis. In this
way, the body of knowledge pertaining to psychoanalysis is transmitted by way of both the written and
the spoken word. This is, as previously mentioned,
another important factor to consider, one which
complicates the historiography process. In order to
obtain a balanced and nuanced picture of the history
of psychoanalysis with regard to how it relates to the
present situation, scholars are required to reconstruct and analyse the underlying theories as well as
the practical applications.
Historians must analyse relevant theoretical texts
or other documents that are important from a
historical point of view*such as transcripts, regulations, letters, and other written communications*
originating from the period of interest, and interview
people who are part of this history as well. Archives
can be the best option with regard to regulations
and the documentation of society matters. Consequently, researchers need access to the relevant
archives. In other words, historical work consists of
textual analysis, a conscientious interview process
and the thorough exploration of archives. I will
return to these aspects in greater detail later on.
Textual analysis
An important and complex issue, and one that is
relevant in all research pursuits, concerns the assessment of the significance of individual texts. This is
another instance in which, when writing the history
of psychoanalysis, academic standards pertaining to
the treatment of scientific criteria and the need for
transparency may be in conflict with the standards
and criteria of the psychoanalytic societies. The fact
that a substantial proportion of the books and
articles written by psychoanalysts have not generally
been subjected to scrutiny by university-based professionals or close examination by any other public
agency can further complicate the issue. It is not
uncommon that texts that are held in high esteem
by psychoanalytic societies and the psychoanalysts
who hold leading positions within them are not
attributed the same value by the university.
Such cases can be found in every country where
psychoanalysis is established. On an international
level, several examples exist. Melanie Klein (1882
1960) and Sa´ndor Fere´nczi (18731933) are two
psychoanalysts who are highly regarded by many
currently practicing psychoanalysts as contributors
of crucial knowledge when it comes to understanding the inner world of children, the darker sides of
the human psyche, and the possibility of change
through psychotherapeutic treatment. However,
their contributions are largely disregarded by most
classical, medical, and psychological departments
at universities around the world. This discrepancy
is not without significance for scholars facing the
task of writing the history of psychoanalysis. Numerous similar examples, as well as national instances,
abound. This requires independent thinking on the
part of historians during textual analysis.
Interviews and assessment
Another significant issue is the evaluation of the
achievements of a particular psychoanalyst with
regard to his or her practice. What has he or she
accomplished as a practicing psychoanalyst, training
analyst, teacher, and supervisor? How should this
person’s input be assessed? The historian is faced
with the delicate task of trying to chisel out a
balanced opinion of a body of work that, in part,
can only be evaluated by studying individual testimonies, and for which confirmation from an independent third party is non-existent. This task will
instead fall upon the historian. Paul Roazen (1936
2005) was a pioneer in the field of interviewing
subjects who, in different ways, had experience of
psychoanalytical practice. In both Brother animal.
The story of Freud and Tausk (1969) and Freud and
his followers (1971), he shows the importance of
interviews in the reconstruction of psychoanalytical
history.
At the same time, one should remember that any
scholar writing about the history of psychoanalysis
will be focusing on clinicians who have also been
Historiography and psychoanalysis 109
writers. The latter aspect*the main focus on
psychoanalysts who have been published*is a prerequisite for anyone who intends to partake in an
academic context. In reconstructing the history of
psychoanalysis, one writes about subjects who have
recorded their observations and conclusions in writing and who, in addition to this, have had a clinical
practice. Thus, it comes down to making an assessment of the sum of activities and achievements of
a particular psychoanalyst.
Some individuals who clearly have a place in the
history of psychoanalysis in France and who have
also been published are: Franc¸oise Dolto (1908
1988), Jacques Lacan (19011981), Serge Leclaire
(19241994), Maud Mannoni (19231998), and
Franc
¸ois Perrier (19221990). In Sweden, five
comparable examples are Ola Andersson (1919
1990), Stefi Pedersen (19081980), Lajos Sze´kely
(19041995), Alfhild Tamm (18761959), and
Pehr Henrik To¨rngren (19081965). All of these
individuals engaged in clinical practice and wrote
books and/or articles.
Yet it is vital to keep in mind that all the various
texts written by practicing psychoanalysts are not
necessarily of the same value or consequence as
their practical work; that is the work they have
accomplished as psychoanalysts in private practice,
and the position they have achieved in this respect.
Under these premises, most of the psychoanalysts
who deserve consideration have also held a position
of some importance within a psychoanalytic society
and, consequently, at an educational institution. In
my opinion, the institutional experience of the
various subjects appears to colour the evaluation of
the importance of a particular psychoanalyst as a
scientifically important writer. In other words, the
very fact that he or she has been an influential person
invested with real or imaginary importance and
power within an organization paves the way for a
more positive evaluation of his or her scientific
achievements than would have been the case had
this person’s position been less prominent. Additionally, it is not uncommon for individual psychoanalysts to rewrite their own history against a
backdrop made up of the institutional disputes in
which they have been involved, thus rendering it
difficult indeed to produce a balanced account of the
historical matter at hand.
Similar processes do, of course, occur in the
academic world as well. However, I maintain that
the structures that exist to counteract these tendencies are more fragile within the psychoanalytic
societies. Obviously, some psychoanalysts leave a
more significant imprint by way of their writings
than through their practice. A Swedish example is
Ola Andersson; his efforts are characterized by a
more unusual set of circumstances that generally do
not lead to a retrospective inflation of the value of the
researcher’s work by analysands, students or patients.
Then, as we know, it happens that an individual
psychoanalyst succeeds in achieving results of decisive importance for an analysand in the course of
the latter’s training analysis. Psychoanalysis can
sometimes amount to a life-changing experience.
For natural reasons, it is extremely difficult for
the trainee to express an objective, unbiased, and
judicious opinion about articles or books written by
this training analyst. A person’s judgment is always
filtered through his or her personal experience, and
this is also true of the transference process. This
transference can be symbolic as well as imaginary*
structured according to what French psychoanalysts
called the ‘‘symbolic transference’’ or coloured
mainly by the imaginary field. In the first instance,
there is a need for judiciousness and the assessment
of veracity. In the second instance, the personal
experience and its impact is pivotal*aspects that
may interfere with impartiality and correctness, and
make it difficult for the person to act in a suitably
discerning manner.
There are, of course, intermediate forms between
these extremes. Nevertheless, it is not uncommon
that when interviewing analysands, pupils or relatives of an individual psychoanalyst, the historian
will sometimes hear opinions that have lost touch
with the demand for consensus that is normative
within the university and/or in the public sphere. In
such circumstances, the historian needs to be aware
of these pitfalls to reach a sound assessment.
Archives: their place in relation to historical research
Yet another important factor connected to the
writing of the history of psychoanalysis is, as mentioned previously, the question of archives. The
status of the archives can be regarded in relation to
the previously discussed conflicts, and the ambiguous position of psychoanalysis: the fact that it is a
theory about what I call ‘‘the mysterious human
being’’ as well as a form of treatment, supported by a
theory and with its own distinctively elaborated
technique. Several archives have been closed to
researchers who are not members of a particular
psychoanalytic society. Within the school founded by
Lacan*formally dissolved in 1980*the archival
material is even more difficult to assess. For example,
Elisabeth Roudinesco (personal communication) ran
into a number of difficulties when she tried to gain
access to archival material while writing the history
of psychoanalysis in France: she was repeatedly met
with silence, and her letters were left unanswered.
110 P. M. Johansson
Researchers who have gained access to archives
associated with a national psychoanalytic society
have done so with the assistance of members in
leading positions, individuals who have entrusted
them with the material even though they are not
members of the society in question. Furthermore,
those responsible for Freud’s remaining letters have
chosen to keep part of his correspondence secret.
Consequently, a portion of Freud’s history is still
subject to censorship today. Many national psychoanalytic societies keep their archives closed to nonmembers and independent researchers, and have
done so for an extensive period of time. The
Sigmund Freud Archives in Washington DC have
been closed in a similar way. Reviewers and researchers are waiting for the complete correspondence between Freud and his wife, Martha, to be
published. Until fairly recently, the correspondence
between Freud and his daughter, the psychoanalyst
Anna Freud (18951982), and the complete correspondence between Freud and two of his pupils*
Karl Abraham (18771925) and Max Eitingon
(18811943)*was not available. Although more
than 67 years have passed since the death of
Sigmund Freud, his correspondence has not ceased
to attract interest.
Furthermore, there is good reason to assume that
most uncensored archives are not to be found at
the national societies. The material has often
been dispersed and is in the possession of various
members. To be granted access to these particular
sources, the historian needs to obtain the trust of the
owner of the archive. The custodian of the material
must be motivated by an obligation towards transparency and the disclosure of the truth in order
to put his personal archive at the historian’s disposal.
With some luck and a number of convincing
credentials, the scholar can gain access to uncensored and extremely rewarding archives that will
provide information of significant value.4 Obviously,
historians will always be subject to random factors
and an uncertain outcome. (For reasons of privacy,
there are obvious limitations with respect to information regarding analysands and patients. A psychoanalyst may have made certain written records that
cannot be stored in archives. This limitation is not an
issue. The problem is rather the pervasive climate of
secrecy within and pertaining to the societies, and
which runs counter to the principle of public access
to official records.) In all research of this kind, there
is always an element of chance.
Conclusion
Every truly effective account of history evolves as
the result of an interaction between proximity and
distance. Too much proximity tends to turn the
historical account into a tribute, a congratulatory
chronicle. Too much distance always entails the
risk of the historian becoming a mere onlooker,
an observer with an outside perspective who never
connects with the cardinal points of the theory,
practice or movement that is to be studied, analysed,
and chronicled. If this is the case, the historian will
be unable to understand what has been at stake for
the different players involved.
A researcher writing the history of psychoanalysis
faces an accentuation of these risks, for all the
reasons described above. In the history of psychoanalysis, there are all too many examples of congratulatory chronicles as well as historiographies
characterized by a sterile stance and a distance
from the subject matter that renders it uninteresting.
In both cases, the historian’s personal and/or political ambitions have come to the forefront, and
his potential for scientific discrimination has consequently receded. The Swedish psychoanalyst and
associate professor, Ola Andersson (1962), the
Swiss-Canadian researcher Henri F. Ellenberger
(1970), and the American researcher Nathan J.
Hale (1971, 1995) are three brilliant exceptions.
There are those who successfully make their way
through this emotionally charged territory, attempting to record the history of psychoanalysis in a way
that will give it its proper place: the place that the
actual circumstances allow, free from idealization as
well as diabolical denigration.
To this should be added the fact that the historian
needs to prepare himself for the highly charged
emotions his work will stir up when published.
Critics will be annoyed that the historian has not
sufficiently noticed the importance of X and the
qualities of X’s publications, or they will criticize him
or her for giving undue credit to Yand Y’s theoretical
work. Most likely, however, some individuals will be
grateful. They will find the efforts meaningful, and
they will be relieved that a portion of history, of
which they are part, has been recorded in spite of all
difficulties. For the next generation of psychoanalysts, written history will be a vital reference point in
an always uncertain future. And at present, the
future seems more uncertain than ever.
Notes
1. In the same way that every country is subject to a specific and
unique introduction of psychoanalysis, the evolution of the
same will also have its own distinctive national form. Different
countries may also resemble each other: there may be
similarities in terms of content of the discussions raised by
the new discipline, as well as a resemblance regarding the
expressions of resistance towards it. Naturally, these likenesses
Historiography and psychoanalysis 111
may also be reflected in the psychoanalytic historiography of
different countries.
2. It is inevitable that, in a changing society like ours, the
university as an institution must also change. There are
regularly indications that its natural position as a guarantor
for sound and objective knowledge, intellectual integrity and
high standards is being undermined. The consequences of this
are unimaginable. However, this is not the subject of my
article. My point of departure is that the university has been,
and still fundamentally is, a place where new knowledge is
produced under intellectually respectable circumstances.
3. This article will not discuss the particulars regarding the
various forms of psychotherapy, nor the way in which they
may involve risk-taking. The author of this article is presently
working on a book about the history of psychotherapy in
Gothenburg, and will pursue this subject matter in his forthcoming book.
4. While I was occupied with writing an account of the history of
psychoanalysis, I had access to some uncensored archives of
great interest for a historian. I thank Nils and Gunnar Harding
for their generosity in making the archive of their father, Go¨sta
Harding, available to me. Likewise, I would like to mention
Edith Sze´kely, who is a psychoanalyst. She opened the archive
of her husband, Lajos Sze´kely, to me. In addition to this, the
psychoanalyst Annastina Rilton gave me access to several
important archival documents. The board of the Swedish
Psychoanalytical Society allowed me to work undisturbed in
the archive of the society. Their obliging attitude was very
helpful and conducive to my research.
References
Andersson, O. (1962). Studies in the prehistory of the psychoanalysis.
The etiology of psychoneuroses and some related themes in
Sigmund Freud’s scientific writings and letters 18861896
[doctoral dissertation]. Stockholm: Norstedts.
Ellenberger, Henri F. (1970). The discovery of the unconscious. The
history and evolution of dynamic psychiatry. New York: Basic
Books.
Hale, N. G., Jr. (1971). Freud in America, Vol. 1, Freud and the
Americans*the beginnings of psychoanalysis in the United
States, 18761917. New York: Oxford University Press.
Hale, N. G., Jr. (1995). Freud in America, Vol. 2, The rise and crisis
of psychoanalysis in the United States: Freud and the Americans,
19171985. Oxford: Oxford University Press.
Freud, S. (1926/19401952). Die Frage der Laienanalyse*
Unterredungen mit einem Unparteiischen [The question of
lay analysis]. Gesammelte Werke, XIV [Complete works, XIV].
Frankfurt am Main: S Fischer Verlag.
Johansson, P. M. (1999). Freuds psykoanalys, Arvtagare i Sverige
[Freud?s psychoanalysis. The heirs in Sweden] [doctoral dissertation]. Go¨teborg: Daidalos.
Johansson, P. M. (2006). Invited commentary on the interview
with Jan Stensson. International Forum of Psychoanalysis, 15,
1316.
Norman, J. (1992). The psychoanalytical scene in Sweden. In P.
Kutter (Ed.) Psychoanalysis International*a guide to psychoanalysis throughout the world, Vol 1, Europe (pp. 268277).
Stuttgart-Bad Cannstatt: Frommann-Holzboog.
Roazen, P. (1969). Brother animal: The story of Freud and Tausk.
New York: Alfred A Knopf.
Roazen, P. (1975). Freud and his followers. New York: Alfred A
Knopf.
Author
Per Magnus Johansson is a registered psychologist
and registered psychotherapist. He is an associate
professor at the department of History of Ideas
and Theory of Science at Gothenburg University,
as well as Editor-in-Chief of Psykoanalytisk Tid/Skrift
[Psychoanalytical time/writing] and the author of
four books. He has also written some twenty forewords and postscripts to various books and approximately 100 articles in Swedish, English, and French.
Johansson works as a psychoanalyst in private
practice and teaches at the study programme for
psychologists at the University of Gothenburg as well
as at the department of History of Ideas and Theory
of Science. He also holds courses within the training
programme for future psychotherapists at the University of Gothenburg. In 2006, he received the
distinction of Officier dans l’Ordre des Palmes Acade´-
miques, awarded by the French Ministry of Education. He is responsible, jointly with Claudia Fahlke,
for the publication, in January 2007, at Natur och
Kultur, of the book Personlighetspsykologi [Personality
psychology], to which he had also contributed a
chapter. At present, he is working on a book about
the history of psychotherapy in Sweden.
112 P. M. Johansson
The post Historiography and psychoanalysis appeared first on My Assignment Online.