Freud - Complete Works (496 page)

   Now, however, we may note that
just as the pair of opposites love-indifference reflects the
polarity ego-external world, so the second antithesis love-hate
reproduces the polarity pleasure-unpleasure, which is linked to the
first polarity. When the purely narcissistic stage has given place
to the object-stage, pleasure and unpleasure signify relations of
the ego to the object. If the object becomes a source of
pleasurable feelings, a motor urge is set up which seeks to bring
the object closer to the ego and to incorporate it into the ego. We
then speak of the ‘attraction’ exercised by the
pleasure-giving object, and say that we ‘love’ that
object. Conversely, if the object is a source of unpleasurable
feelings, there is an urge which endeavours to increase the
distance between the object and the ego and to repeat in relation
to the object the original attempt at flight from the external
world with its emission of stimuli. We feel the
‘repulsion’ of the object, and hate it; this hate can
afterwards be intensified to the point of an aggressive inclination
against the object - an intention to destroy it.

Instincts And Their Vicissitudes

2972

   We might at a pinch say of an
instinct that it ‘loves’ the objects towards which it
strives for purposes of satisfaction; but to say that an instinct
‘hates’ an object strikes us as odd. Thus we become
aware that the attitudes of love and hate cannot be made use of for
the relations of
instincts
to their objects, but are
reserved for the relations of the
total ego
to objects. But
if we consider linguistic usage, which is certainly not without
significance, we shall see that there is a further limitation to
the meaning of love and hate. We do not say of objects which serve
the interests of self-preservation that we
love
them; we
emphasize the fact that we
need
them, and perhaps express an
additional, different kind of relation to them by using words that
denote a much reduced degree of love - such as, for example,
‘being fond of’, ‘liking’ or ‘finding
agreeable’.

   Thus the word ‘to
love’ moves further and further into the sphere of the pure
pleasure-relation of the ego to the object and finally becomes
fixed to sexual objects in the narrower sense and to those which
satisfy the needs of sublimated sexual instincts. The distinction
between the ego-instincts and the sexual instincts which we have
imposed upon our psychology is thus seen to be in conformity with
the spirit of our language. The fact that we are not in the habit
of saying of a single sexual instinct that it loves its object, but
regard the relation of the ego to its sexual object as the most
appropriate case in which to employ the word ‘love’ -
this fact teaches us that the word can only begin to be applied in
this relation after there has been a synthesis of all the component
instincts of sexuality under the primacy of the genitals and in the
service of the reproductive function.

Instincts And Their Vicissitudes

2973

   It is noteworthy that in the use
of the word ‘hate’ no such intimate connection with
sexual pleasure and the sexual function appears. The relation of
unpleasure
seems to be the sole decisive one. The ego hates,
abhors and pursues with intent to destroy all objects which are a
source of unpleasurable feeling for it, without taking into account
whether they mean a frustration of sexual satisfaction or of the
satisfaction of self-preservative needs. Indeed, it may be asserted
that the true prototypes of the relation of hate are derived not
from sexual life, but from the ego’s struggle to preserve and
maintain itself.

   So we see that love and hate,
which present themselves to us as complete opposites in their
content, do not after all stand in any simple relation to each
other. They did not arise from the cleavage of any originally
common entity, but sprang from different sources, and had each its
own development before the influence of the pleasure-unpleasure
relation made them into opposites.

   It now remains for us to put
together what we know of the genesis of love and hate. Love is
derived from the capacity of the ego to satisfy some of its
instinctual impulses auto-erotically by obtaining organ-pleasure.
It is originally narcissistic, then passes over on to objects,
which have been incorporated into the extended ego, and expresses
the motor efforts of the ego towards these objects as sources of
pleasure. It becomes intimately linked with the activity of the
later sexual instincts and, when these have been completely
synthesized, coincides with the sexual impulsion as a whole.
Preliminary stages of love emerge as provisional sexual aims while
the sexual instincts are passing through their complicated
development. As the first of these aims we recognize the phase of
incorporating or devouring - a type of love which is consistent
with abolishing the object’s separate existence and which may
therefore be described as ambivalent. At the higher stage of the
pregenital sadistic-anal organization, the striving for the object
appears in the form of an urge for mastery, to which injury or
annihilation of the object is a matter of indifference. Love in
this form and at this preliminary stage is hardly to be
distinguished from hate in its attitude towards the object. Not
until the genital organization is established does love become the
opposite of hate.

Instincts And Their Vicissitudes

2974

   Hate, as a relation to objects,
is older than love. It derives from the narcissistic ego’s
primordial repudiation of the external world with its outpouring of
stimuli. As an expression of the reaction of unpleasure evoked by
objects, it always remains in an intimate relation with the
self-preservative instincts; so that sexual and ego-instincts can
readily develop an antithesis which repeats that of love and hate.
When the ego-instincts dominate the sexual function, as is the case
at the stage of the sadistic-anal organization, they impart the
qualities of hate to the instinctual aim as well.

   The history of the origins and
relations of love makes us understand how it is that love so
frequently manifests itself as ‘ambivalent’ - i.e. as
accompanied by impulses of hate against the same object. The hate
which is admixed with the love is in part derived from the
preliminary stages of loving which have not been wholly surmounted;
it is also in part based on reactions of repudiation by the
ego-instincts, which, in view of the frequent conflicts between the
interests of the ego and those of love, can find grounds in real
and contemporary motives. In both cases, therefore, the admixed
hate has as its source the self-preservative instincts. If a
love-relation with a given object is broken off, hate not
infrequently emerges in its place, so that we get the impression of
a transformation of love into hate. This account of what happens
leads on to the view that the hate, which has its real motives, is
here reinforced by a regression of the love to the sadistic
preliminary stage; so that the hate acquires an erotic character
and the continuity of a love relation is ensured.

   The third antithesis of loving,
the transformation of loving into being loved, corresponds to the
operation of the polarity of activity and passivity, and is to be
judged in the same way as the cases of scopophilia and sadism.

   We may sum up by saying that the
essential feature in the vicissitudes undergone by instincts lies
in
the subjection of the instinctual impulses to the influences
of the three great polarities that dominate mental life
. Of
these three polarities we might describe that of activity-passivity
as the
biological
, that of ego-external world as the
real
, and finally that of pleasure-unpleasure as the
economic
polarity.

   The instinctual vicissitude of
repression
will form the subject of an inquiry which
follows.

2975

REPRESSION

(1915)

2976

Intentionally left blank

2977

REPRESSION

One of the vicissitudes an instinctual impulse
may undergo is to meet with resistances which seek to make it
inoperative. Under certain conditions, which we shall presently
investigate more closely, the impulse then passes into the state of
‘repression’ [‘
Verdrängung
’].
If what was in question was the operation of an external stimulus,
the appropriate method to adopt would obviously be flight; with an
instinct, flight is of no avail, for the ego cannot escape from
itself. At some later period, rejection based on judgement
(
condemnation
) will be found to be a good method to adopt
against an instinctual impulse. Repression is a preliminary stage
of condemnation, something between flight and condemnation; it is a
concept which could not have been formulated before the time of
psycho-analytic studies.

   It is not easy in theory to
deduce the possibility of such a thing as repression. Why should an
instinctual impulse undergo a vicissitude like this? A necessary
condition of its happening must clearly be that the
instinct’s attainment of its aim should produce unpleasure
instead of pleasure. But we cannot well imagine such a contingency.
There are no such instincts: satisfaction of an instinct is always
pleasurable. We should have to assume certain peculiar
circumstances, some sort of process by which the pleasure of
satisfaction is changed into unpleasure.

   In order the better to delimit
repression, let us discuss some other instinctual situations. It
may happen that an external stimulus becomes internalized - for
example, by eating into and destroying some bodily organ - so that
a new source of constant excitation and increase of tension arises.
The stimulus thereby acquires a far-reaching similarity to an
instinct. We know that a case of this sort is experienced by us as
pain
. The aim of this pseudo-instinct, however, is simply
the cessation of the change in the organ and of the unpleasure
accompanying it. There is no other direct pleasure to be attained
by cessation of pain. Further, pain is imperative; the only things
to which it can yield are removal by some toxic agent or the
influence of mental distraction.

   The case of pain is too obscure
to give any help in our purpose. Let us take the case in which an
instinctual stimulus such as hunger remains unsatisfied. It then
becomes imperative and can be allayed by nothing but the action
that satisfies it; it keeps up a constant tension of need. Nothing
in the nature of a repression seems in this case to come remotely
into question.

Repression

2978

   Thus repression certainly does
not arise in cases where the tension produced by lack of
satisfaction of an instinctual impulse is raised to an unbearable
degree. The methods of defence which are open to the organism
against that situation must be discussed in another connection.

   Let us rather confine ourselves
to clinical experience, as we meet with it in psycho-analytic
practice. We then learn that the satisfaction of an instinct which
is under repression would be quite possible, and further, that in
every instance such a satisfaction would be pleasurable in itself;
but it would be irreconcilable with other claims and intentions. It
would, therefore, cause pleasure in one place and unpleasure in
another. It has consequently become a condition for repression that
the motive force of unpleasure shall have acquired more strength
than the pleasure obtained from satisfaction. Psycho-analytic
observation of the transference neuroses, moreover, leads us to
conclude that repression is not a defensive mechanism which is
present from the very beginning, and that it cannot arise until a
sharp cleavage has occurred between conscious and unconscious
mental activity - that
the essence of repression lies simply in
turning something away, and keeping it at a distance, from the
conscious
. This view of repression would be made more complete
by assuming that, before the mental organization reaches this
stage, the task of fending off instinctual impulses is dealt with
by the other vicissitudes which instincts may undergo - e.g.
reversal into the opposite or turning round upon the
subject’s own self.

Repression

2979

   It seems to us now that, in view
of the very great extent to which repression and what is
unconscious are correlated, we must defer probing more deeply into
the nature of repression until we have learnt more about the
structure of the succession of psychical agencies and about the
differentiation between what is unconscious and conscious. Till
then, all we can do is to put together in a purely descriptive
fashion a few characteristics of repression that have been observed
clinically, even though we run the risk of having to repeat
unchanged much that has been said elsewhere.

   We have reason to assume that
there is a
primal repression
, a first phase of repression,
which consists in the psychical (ideational) representative of the
instinct being denied entrance into the conscious. With this
fixation
is established; the representative in question
persists unaltered from then onwards and the instinct remains
attached to it. This is due to the properties of unconscious
processes of which we shall speak later.

   The second stage of repression,
repression proper
, affects mental derivatives of the
repressed representative, or such trains of thought as, originating
elsewhere, have come into associative connection with it. On
account of this association, these ideas experience the same fate
as what was primally repressed. Repression proper, therefore, is
actually an after-pressure [
Nachdrängen
]. Moreover, it
is a mistake to emphasize only the repulsion which operates from
the direction of the conscious upon what is to be repressed; quite
as important is the attraction exercised by what was primally
repressed upon everything with which it can establish a connection.
Probably the trend towards repression would fail in its purpose if
these two forces did not co-operate, if there were not something
previously repressed ready to receive what is repelled by the
conscious.

Repression

2980

   Under the influence of the study
of the psychoneuroses, which brings before us the important effects
of repression, we are inclined to overvalue their psychological
bearing and to forget too readily that repression does not hinder
the instinctual representative from continuing to exist in the
unconscious, from organizing itself further, putting out
derivatives and establishing connections. Repression in fact
interferes only with the relation of the instinctual representative
to
one
psychical system, namely, to that of the
conscious.

   Psycho-analysis is able to show
us other things as well which are important for understanding the
effects of repression in the psychoneuroses. It shows us, for
instance, that the instinctual representation develops with less
interference and more profusely if it is withdrawn by repression
from conscious influence. It proliferates in the dark, as it were,
and takes on extreme forms of expression, which when they are
translated and presented to the neurotic are not only bound to seem
alien to him, but frighten him by giving him the picture of an
extraordinary and dangerous strength of instinct. This deceptive
strength of instinct is the result of an uninhibited development in
phantasy and of the damming-up consequent on frustrated
satisfaction. The fact that this last result is bound up with
repression points the direction in which the true significance of
repression has to be looked for.

   Reverting once more, however, to
the opposite aspect of repression, let us make it clear that it is
not even correct to suppose that repression withholds from the
conscious
all
the derivatives of what was primally
repressed. If these derivatives have become sufficiently far
removed from the repressed representative, whether owing to the
adoption of distortions or by reason of the number of intermediate
links inserted, they have free access to the conscious. It is as
though the resistance of the conscious against them was a function
of their distance from what was originally repressed. In carrying
out the technique of psycho-analysis, we continually require the
patient to produce such derivatives of the repressed as, in
consequence either of their remoteness or of their distortion, can
pass the censorship of the conscious. Indeed, the associations
which we require him to give without being influenced by any
conscious purposive idea and without any criticism, and from which
we reconstitute a conscious translation of the repressed
representative - these associations are nothing else than remote
and distorted derivatives of this kind. During this process we
observe that the patient can go on spinning a thread of such
associations, till he is brought up against some thought, the
relation of which to what is repressed becomes so obvious that he
is compelled to repeat his attempt at repression. Neurotic
symptoms, too, must have fulfilled this same condition, for they
are derivatives of the repressed, which has, by their means,
finally won the access to consciousness which was previously denied
to it.

Repression

2981

   We can lay down no general rule
as to what degree of distortion and remoteness is necessary before
the resistance on the part of the conscious is removed. A delicate
balancing is here taking place, the play of which is hidden from
us; its mode of operation, however, enables us to infer that it is
a question of calling a halt when the cathexis of the unconscious
reaches a certain intensity - an intensity beyond which the
unconscious would break through to satisfaction. Repression acts,
therefore, in a
highly individual
manner. Each single
derivative of the repressed may have its own special vicissitude; a
little more or a little less distortion alters the whole outcome.
In this connection we can understand how it is that the objects to
which men give most preference, their ideals, proceed from the same
perceptions and experiences as the objects which they most abhor,
and that they were originally only distinguished from one another
through slight modifications. Indeed, as we found in tracing the
origin of the fetish, it is possible for the original instinctual
representative to be split in two, one part undergoing repression,
while the remainder, precisely on account of this intimate
connection, undergoes idealization.

   The same result as follows from
an increase or a decrease in the degree of distortion may also be
achieved at the other end of the apparatus, so to speak, by a
modification in the condition for the production of pleasure and
unpleasure. Special techniques have been evolved, with the purpose
of bringing about such changes in the play of mental forces that
what would otherwise give rise to unpleasure may on this occasion
result in pleasure; and, whenever a technical device of this sort
comes into operation, the repression of an instinctual
representative which would otherwise be repudiated is lifted. These
techniques have till now only been studied in any detail in jokes.
As a rule the repression is only temporarily lifted and is promptly
re-instated.

Repression

2982

   Observations like this, however,
enable us to note some further characteristics of repression. Not
only is it, as we have just shown,
individual
in its
operation, but it is also exceedingly
mobile
. The process of
repression is not to be regarded as an event which takes place
once, the results of which are permanent, as when some living thing
has been killed and from that time onward is dead; repression
demands a persistent expenditure of force, and if this were to
cease the success of the repression would be jeopardized, so that a
fresh act of repression would be necessary. We may suppose that the
repressed exercises a continuous pressure in the direction of the
conscious, so that this pressure must be balanced by an unceasing
counter-pressure. Thus the maintenance of a repression involves an
uninterrupted expenditure of force, while its removal results in a
saving from an economic point of view. The mobility of repression,
incidentally, also finds expression in the psychical
characteristics of the state of sleep, which alone renders possible
the formation of dreams. With a return to waking life the
repressive cathexes which have been drawn in are once more sent
out.

   Finally, we must not forget that
after all we have said very little about an instinctual impulse
when we have established that it is repressed. Without prejudice to
its repression, such an impulse may be in widely different states.
It may be inactive, i.e. only very slightly cathected with mental
energy; or it may be cathected in varying degrees, and so enabled
to be active. True, its activation will not result in a direct
lifting of the repression, but it will set in motion all the
processes which end in a penetration by the impulse into
consciousness along circuitous paths. With unrepressed derivatives
of the unconscious the fate of a particular idea is often decided
by the degree of its activity or cathexis. It is an everyday
occurrence that such a derivative remains unrepressed so long as it
represents only a small amount of energy, although its content
would be calculated to give rise to a conflict with what is
dominant in consciousness. The quantitative factor proves decisive
for this conflict: as soon as the basically obnoxious idea exceeds
a certain degree of strength, the conflict becomes a real one, and
it is precisely this activation that leads to repression. So that,
where repression is concerned, an increase of energic cathexis
operates in the same sense as an approach to the unconscious, while
a decrease of that cathexis operates in the same sense as
remoteness from the unconscious or distortion. We see that the
repressive trends may find a substitute for repression in a
weakening of what is distasteful.