This book will fascinate anyone interested in the personal biographies of Freud or Jung, most particularly in reference to their breakup. It will also be of interest to psychotherapists who will encounter transferences and counter-transferences in their practices as it is a case study of the phenomenon which Freud judged the sine qua non of successful therapy. Finally, it should be of interest to medical ethicists.
For over a decade I saw myself as training for a career as a psychotherapist, obtaining three degrees in the process and related job and internship placements. Depth psychology was my theoretical predilection. Talking-therapy was my preferred method. Issues of meaning and purpose were the "psychological" problems I was most interested in. This overall orientation substantially abides, but I never became a psychotherapist.
The reason for this failure, I usually tell myself and others, was that the clinical aegis I had intended to work under, the pastoral counseling programs of the Unitarian-Universalist Association, were given up by the Church owing to financial constraints while I was still in seminary under the care of Donald Szantho Harrington. The UUA program would have allowed me to do therapy without the intrustion of money concerns. I would receive a modest, but adequate, salary. Clients would pay according to their abilities, the indigent paying nothing at all. Like Freud, I strongly believe that both analyst and analysand must be motivated for therapy to work. They must care, the analyst for the client, the client for him or herself. Therapy for a person is not like repair of an appliance.
This book brought into relief the possibility that it may have been more than my aversion to money matters that caused me to drift away from my intended career after the UUA option fell through. It may also have had something to do with what Freud called "the transference", what I just termed "care" and what others in day-to-day life call "love".
In the case of Freud, Jung and Spielrein this business of caring got way out of hand. Jung fell in love with his young, attractively intelligent patient. Spielrein fell in love with her psychiatrist. He betrayed his wedding vows, family obligations and, hopefully, conscience. Then, thinking better of it, he retracted his affections, betraying Spielrein. She, being much his junior and having no such obligations, would appear to be less at fault, but still was culpable for threatening his marriage. Freud, two decades older than Jung, probably repeated the configuration with the disappointed woman in his heart, but did not or could not act on it, sexually speaking, and actually served her in the sense of initially promoting her own career in psychiatry. But he also, according to Kerr, used the intimate secrets pertaining to her and Jung in his struggles for control of the psychoanalytic movement just as Jung used what he knew of Freud's own secrets to resist this control. All in all, not a pretty picture...But all of it understandable...
From this sordid, pathetic story I mostly focused on the sexual aspect at the time of reading and this because sexual infidelities hurt my own family and its members when I was growing up. If I was a therapist and if someone like the impressive Ms. Spielrein fell for me, would I be able to maintain objective distance while still effectively--which, of course, means truly--caring for her? Given the fact that I, unlike Jung, would have no wedding vows or family obligations to worry about, it seemed uncertain that I would. But, obviously, if I as a therapist became sexually involved with a client, then matters would become serious. Sex means the possiblity of pregnancy and pregnancy is entirely in the hands of the female. I would have to be open to this eventuality, ready to assume paternal responsiblity, open to marriage or its equivalent. Meanwhile, were I to continue to practice, I would be encountering this kind of temptation again and again in the transference. I would be in Jung's situation and the moral consequences of a lapse in such a future circumstance would be unconscienceable.
These considerations also obtain in everyday life. Indeed, I think--I inevitably feel--friendships ought have a therapeutic component. But in ordinary circumstances power relations are not distorted by titles, degrees, shows of special insight or expertise. Therapeutic concern between friends is a two-way street, the offices of friendship exchanged back and forth as appropriate to the circumstances. Relationships of such effective equality I could, I was reasonably certain, handle. Like most everyone else, I'd been managing pretty well for my entire adult life.
Romantic entanglements were extremely common in the early years of depth psychology. Professionally forbidden, virtually taboo, in contemporary American practice, they still occur, albeit even more furtively. The problematic remains and is probably insufficiently admitted and discussed with frank honesty. Obviously, there is a parallel here with the relations between clergy and laity, a matter which is currently being discussed quite a lot with great heat and little clarity.
The solution would appear to be obtainable with the removal of inequitous power relations and the numinosity associated with presumed powers, virtues and abilities presumed to be associated with titles and degrees. To be completely successful, such a solution would require a radical redistribution of wealth and democratization of society. Partial improvements would be found, however, in the demystification of the professions and of higher education, in the diminuation of the remuneration held appropriate for professionals, in the ethos of co-therapeutics whereby no hard and fast distinctions are made between roles and in, as stated, ongoing critical examination of cultural taboos.