Archive for the ‘Uncategorized’ Category


November 27, 2015

Prefatory Note
This essay was written in 1916. Recently it was discovered by stu¬dents of the C. G . .lung Institute, Zurich, and was brought out in a private edition in its first, provisional form, in an ‘English transla¬tion. In order to prepare it for publication, I have worked over the manuscript, while preserving the main trend of thought and the un¬avoidable limitedness of its horizon. After forty-two years, the prob¬lem has lost nothing of its topicality, though its presentation is still in need of extensive improvement, as anyone can see who knows the material.

The essay may therefore stand, with all its imperfections, as an historical document. It may give the reader some idea of the efforts of understanding which were needed for the first attempts at a syn¬thetic view of the psychic process in analytical treatment. As its basic argument is still valid today, it may stimulate the reader to a broader and deeper understanding of the problem. This problem is identical with the universal question: How does one come to terms in practice with the unconscious?


1 [Written in 1916 under the title “Die Transzendente Funktion,” the ms. lay in Professor Jung’s files until 1953. First published in 1957 by the Students Associa¬tion, C. G. Jung Institute, Zurich, in an English translation by A. R. Pope. The German original. considerably revised by the author. was published in Geist lJnd Werk … %Urn 75. Geburtstag van Dr. Daniel Brady (Zurich, 1958), together with a prefatory note of more general import specially written for that volume. The author has partially rewritten the note for publication here. The present transla¬tion is based on the revised German version, and Mr. Pope’s translation has been consulted.-EDlTORS.]

This is the question posed by the philosophy of India, and par¬ticularly by Buddhism and Zen. Indirectly, it is the fundamental question, in practice, of all religions and all philosophies. For the unconscious is not this thing or that; it is the Unknown as it immedi¬ately affects us.


The method of “active imagination,” hereinafter described, is the most important auxiliary for the production of those contents of the unconscious which lie, as it were, immediately below the thres¬hold of consciousness and, when intensified, are the most likely to irrupt spontaneously into the conscious mind. The method, there¬fore, is not without its dangers and should, if possible, not be em¬ployed except under expert supervision.


One of the lesser dangers is that the procedure may not lead to any positive result, since it easily passes over into the so-called “free association” of Freud, whereupon the patient gets caught in the sterile circle of his own complexes, from which he is .in any case unable to escape. A further danger, in itself harmless, is that, though authentic contents may be produced, the patient evinces an exclusively aesthetic interest in them and con¬sequently remains stuck in an all-enveloping phantasmagoria, so that once more nothing is gained. The meaning and value of these fan¬tasies are revealed only through their integration into the personality as a whole-that is to say, at the moment when one is confronted not only with what they mean but also with their moral demands.


Finally, a third danger-and this may in certain circumstances be a very serious matter-is that the subliminal contents already possess such a high energy charge that, when afforded an outlet by active imagination, they may overpower the conscious mind and take pos¬session of the personality. This. gives rise to a condition which¬temporarily, at least-cannot easily be distinguished from schizo¬phrenia, and may even lead to a genuine “psychotic interval.” The method of active imagination, therefore, is not a plaything for chil¬dren. The prevailing undervaluation of the unconscious adds con¬siderably to the dangers of this method. On the other hand, there can be no doubt that it is an invaluable auxiliary for the psycho¬therapist.


C. G. J.
KiisnachtJ July I958 / September I959

1111 There is nothing mysterious or metaphysical about the term
“transcendent function.” It means a psychological function com-parable in its way to a mathematical function of the same name, which is a function of real and imaginary numbers. The psy-chological “transcendent function” arises from the union of conscious and unconscious contents.


132 Experience in analytical psychology has amply shown that
the conscious and the unconscious seldom agree as to their con¬tents and their tendencies. This lack of parallelism is not just accidental or purposeless, but is due to the fact that the uncon¬scious behaves in a compensatory or complementary manner towards the conscious. We can also put it the other way round and say that the conscious behaves in a complementary manner towards the unconscious. The reasons for this relationship are:


(1) Consciousness possesses a threshold intensity which its contents must have attained, so that all elements that are too weak remain in the unconscious.


(2) Consciousness, because of its directed functions, exercises an inhibition (which Freud calls censorship) on all incompatible material, with the result that it sinks into the unconscious.


(3) Consciousness constitutes the momentary,process of ad-aptation; .•. •whereas the unconscious contains not only all the forgotten material of the individual’s own past, but all the in¬herited behaviour traces constituting the structure of the mind.


(4) The unconscious contains all the fantasy combinations which have not yet attained the threshold intensity, but which in the course of time and under suitable conditions will enter the light of consciousness.


133 This readily explains the complementary attitude of the
unconscious towards the conscious.


134 The definiteness and directedness of the conscious mind are
qualities that have been acquired relatively late in the history of the human race, and are for instance largely lacking among primitives today. These qualities are often impaired in the neurotic patient, who differs from the normal person in that his threshold of consciousness gets shifted more easily; in other words, the partition between conscious and unconscious is much more permeable. The psychotic, on the other hand; is under the direct influence of the unconscious.




The definiteness and directedness of the conscious mind are extremely important acquisitions which humanity has bought at a very heavy sacrifice, and which in turn have rendered hu¬manity the highest service. Without them science, technology, and civilization would be impossible, for they all presuppose the reliable continuity and directedness of the conscious process. For the statesman, doctor, and engineer as well as for the simplest labourer, these qualities are absolutely indispensable. We may say in general that social worthlessness increases to the degree that these qualities are impaired by the unconscious. Great artists and others distinguished by creative gifts are, of course, exceptions to this rule. The very advantage that such individuals enjoy consists precisely in the permeability of the partition separating the conscious and the unconscious. But, for those professions and social activities which require just this continuity and reliability, these exceptional human beings are as a rule of little value.


136 It is therefore understandable, and even necessary, that in
each individual the psychic process should be as stable and definite as possible, since the exigencies of life demand it. But this im’olves a certain disadvantage: the quality of directedness makes for the inhibition or exclusion of all those psychic ele¬ments which appear to be, or really are, incompatible with it, ie., likely to bias the intended direction to suit their purpose and so lead to an undesired goal. But how do we know that the concurrent psychic material is “incompatible”? We know it by an act of judgment which determines the direction of the path that is chosen and desired.

This judgment is partial and preju¬diced, since it chooses one particular possibility at the cost of all the others. The judgment in its turn is always based on experience, i.e., on what is already known. As a rule it is never based on what is new, what is still unknown, and what under certain conditions might considerably enrich the directed proc¬ess. It is evident that it cannot be, for the very reason that the unconscious contents are excluded from consciousness.


137 Through such acts of judgment the directed process neces-
sarily becomes one-sided, even though the rational judgment may appear many-sided and unprejudiced. The very rationality of the judgment may even be the worst prejudice, since we call reasonable what appears reasonable to us. What appears to us unreasonable is therefore doomed to be excluded because of its

irrational character. It may really be irrational, but may equally well merely appear irrational without actually being so when seen from another standpoint.


138 One-sidedness is an unavoidable and necessary characteristic
of the directed process, for direction implies one-sidedness. It is an advantage and a drawback at the same time. Even when no outwardly visible drawback seems to be present, there is always an equally pronounced counter-position in the unconscious, unless it happens to be the ideal case where all the psychic components are tending in one and the same direction. This possibility cannot be disputed in theory, but in practice it very rarely happens. The counter-position in the unconscious is not dangerous so long as it .does not possess any high energy-value. But if the tension increases as a result of too great one-sidedness, the counter-tendency breaks through into consciousness, usually just at the moment when it is most important to maintain the conscious direction. Thus the speaker makes a slip of the tongue just when he particularly wishes not to say anything stupid. This moment is critical because it possesses a high energy ten¬sion which, when the unconscious is already charged, may easily “spark” and release the unconscious content.


139 Civilized life today demands concentrated, directed con-
scious functioning, and this entails the risk of a considerable dissociation from the unconscious. The further we are able to remove ourselves from the unconscious through directed func¬tioning, the more readily a powerful counter-position can build up in the unconscious, and when this breaks out it may have disagreeable consequences.


14° Analysis has given us a profound insight into the importance
of unconscious influences, and we have learnt so much from this for our practical life that we deem it unwise to expect an elimination or standstill of the unconscious after the so-called completion of the treatment. Many patients, obscurely recogniz¬ing this state of affairs, have great difficulty in deciding to give up the analysis, although both they and the analyst find the feeling of dependency irksome. Often they are afraid to risk standing on their own feet, because they know from experience that the unconscious can intervene again and again in their lives in a disturbing and apparently unpredictable manner.




It was formerly assumed that patients were ready to copewith normal life as soon as they had acquired enough practical self-knowledge to understand their own dreams. Experience has shown, however, that even professional analysts, who might be expected to have mastered the art of dream interpretation, often capitulate before their own dreams and have to call in the help of a colleague. If even one who purports to be an expert in the method proves unable to interpret his own dre~ms satis-factorily, how much less can this be expected of the patient. Freud’s hope that the unconscious could be “exhausted” has not be’en fulfilled. Dream-life and intrusions from the unconscious continue-m utatis m utan dis-unim peded.

先前,我们假定,病人准备要处理正常的生活,当他们已经获得足够的实践的自性-知识,为了理解他们自己的梦想。可是,我们根据经验知道,即使是专业的精神分析家,他们被期望已经掌控梦的解释的技艺,他们经常束手无策于他们自己的梦,并且必须召唤同事的帮忙。假如被认为是这个方法的专家,都没有能力令人满意地解释他自己的梦,对于病人,那就更没有什么奢望。 弗洛伊德的希望,无意识能够被“穷尽理解”,并没有被实现。梦与无意识的闯入继续排山倒海而来。

142 There is a widespread prejudice that analysis is something
like a “cure,” to which one submits for a time and is then dis¬charged healed. That is a layman’s error left over from the early days of psychoanalysis. Analytical treatment could be described as a readjustment of psychological attitude achieved with the help of the doctor. Naturally this newly won attitude, which is better suited to the inner and outer conditions, can last a con¬siderable time, but there are very few cases where a single “cure” is permanently successful


It is true that medical optimism has never stinted itself of publicity and has always been able to report definitive cures. We must, however, not let ourselves be deceived by the all-t0
o-human attitude of the practitioner. but should always remember that the life of the unconscious goes on and continually produces problematical situations. There is no need for pessimism; we have seen too many excellent results achieved with good luck and honest work for that. But this need not prevent us from recognizing that analysis is no once¬and-for-all “cure”; it is no more, at first, than a more or less thorough readjustment. There is no change that is uncondi¬tionally valid over a long period of time. Life has always to be tackled anew.


There are, of course, extremely durable collec¬tive attitudes which permit the solution of typical conflicts. A collective attitude enables the individual to fit into society without friction, since it acts upon him like any other condition of life. But the patient’s difficulty consists precisely in the fact that his individual problem cannot be fitted without friction into a collective norm; it requires the solution of an individual conflict if the whole of his personality is to remain viable. No rational solution can do justice to this task, and there is abso-

lutelyno collective norm that could replace an individual solu¬tion without loss.

143 The new attitude gained in the course of analysis tends
sooner or later to become inadequate in one way or another, and necessarily so, because the constant flow of life again and again demands fresh adaptation. Adaptation is never achieved once and for all. One might certainly demand of analysis that it should enable the patient to gain new orientations in later life, too, without undue difficulty. And expe’rience shows that this is true up to a point. We often find that patients who have gone through a thorough analysis have considerably less difficulty with new adjustments later on.

在精神分析的过程被获得的这个新的态度,倾向于迟早会变成不足够,用某种的方式,而且必然是不足够。因为生命的经常的流动一再地要求新鲜的调适。 调适从来没有一劳永逸地被获得。我们确实可能要求精神分析应该让病人能够获得新的方向,在以后的生活,而没有过分的困难。经验告诉我们,这到达某个时刻是真实的。我们经常发现,曾经经历彻底的精神分析的病人,遭遇较少的困难,对于后来的调适。

Nevertheless, these difficulties prove to be fairly frequent and may at times be really trouble¬some. That is why even patients who have had a thorough analy¬sis often turn to their old analyst for help at some later period. In the light of medical practice in general there is nothing very unusual about this, but it does contradict a certain misplaced enthusiasm on the part of the therapist as well as the view that analysis constitutes a unique “cure.” In the last resort it is highly improbable that there could ever be a therapy that got rid of all difficulties. Man needs difficulties; they are necessary for health. What concerns us here is only an excessive amount of them.


144 The basic question for the therapist is not how to get rid of
the momentary difficulty, but how future difficulties may be successfully countered. The question is: what kind of menta] and moral attitude is it necessary to have towards the disturbing influences of the unconscious, and how can it be conveyed to the patient?


Collected 7 集体无意识的原型100

September 24, 2015

Collected 7
Analytical Psychology
Carl Jung
卡尔 荣格



Is it a good thing or a bad, God or devil, that will befall the dreamer? Without knowing which, she feels that she is already in its clutches. And who can say whether she will be able to cope with this complication! Until now she had managed to circum¬vent such an eventuality, but now it threatens to seize hold of her. That is a risk we should avoid, or, if we must take the plunge, we need a good deal of “trust in God” or “faith” in a successful issue. Thus, unsought and unexpected, the question creeps in of one’s religious attitude to fate.


165 The dream as it stands leaves the dreamer no alternative at
present but to withdraw her foot carefully; for to go on would be fatal. She cannot yet leave the neurotic situation, because the dream gives her no positive indication of any help from the un¬conscious. The unconscious powers are still inauspicious and obviously expect more work and a deeper insight from the dreamer before she can really venture across.


166 I certainly do not wish, by this negative example, to convey
the impression that the unconscious plays a negative role in all cases. I will therefore add two fu;-ther dreams, this time of a young man, which illuminate another and more favourable side of the unconscious. I do this the more readily since the solution of the problem of opposites can be reached only irrationally, by way of contributions from the unconscious, i.e., from dreams.


167 First I must acquaint the reader in some measure with the
personality of the dreamer, for without this acquaintance he will hardly be able to transport himself into the peculiar atmosphere of the dreams. There are dreams that are pure poems and can therefore only be understood through the mood they convey as a whole. The dreamer is a youth of a little over twenty, still en¬tirely boyish in appearance. There is even a touch of girlish¬ness in his looks and manner of expression. The latter betrays a very good education and upbringing.


He is intelligent, with pro¬nounced intellectual and aesthetic interests. His aestheticism is very much in evidence: we are made instantly aware of his good taste and his fine appreciation of all forms of art. His feelings are tender and soft, given to the enthusiasms typical of puberty, but somewhat effeminate. There is no trace of adolescent callow¬ness. Undoubtedly he is too young for his age, a clear case of retarded development. It is quite in keeping with this that he should have come to me on account of his homosexuality.



night preceding his first visit he had the following dream: “I am in a lofty cathedral filled with mysterious twilight. They tell me that it is the cathedral at Lourdes. In the centre there is a deep dark well) into which I have to descend.”


The dream is clearly a coherent expression of mood. The
dreamer’s comments are as follows: “Lourdes is the mystic fount of healing. Naturally I remembered yesterday that I was going to you for treatment and was in search of a cure. There is said to be a well like this at Lourdes. It would be rather unpleasant to go down into this water. The well in the church was ever so


Now what does dream tell us? On the surface it seems clear
enough, and we might be content to take it as a kind of poetic formulation of the mood of the day before. But we should never stop there, for experience shows that dreams are much deeper and more significant. One might almost suppose that the dreamer came to the doctor in a highly poetic mood and was entering upon the treatment as though it were a sacred religious act to be performed in the mystical half-light of some awe-inspir¬ing sanctuary.

现在,这个梦告诉我们什么?表面上,似乎足够清楚. 我们可以满足地接受它,作为一种诗意,前天的心情的阐释. 但是我们永远不应该停在那里。因为精神分析经验告诉我们,作梦者前来就诊于医生,带着诗意的心情。并且正要从事这个治疗,好像那是一个神圣的宗教的行动,要被执行,从让人肃然起敬的圣堂的神秘的微光里。

But this does not fit the facts at all. The patient merely came to the doctor to be treated for that unpleasant matter, his homosexuality, which is anything but poetic. At any rate we cannot see from the mood of the preceding day why he should dream so poetically, if we were to accept so direct a causa¬tion for the origin of the dream. But we might conjecture, per¬haps, that the dream was stimulated precisely by the dreamer’s impressions of that highly unpoetical affair which impelled him to come to me for treatment.


We might even suppose that he dreamed in such an intensely poetical manner just because of the unpoeticalness of his mood on the day before, much as a man who has fasted by day dreams of delicious meals at night. It cannot be denied that the thought of treatment, of the cure and its unpleasant procedure, recurs in the dream, but poetically transfigured, in a guise which meets most effectively the lively aesthetic and emotional needs of the dreamer.


He will be drawn on irresistibly by this inviting picture, despite the fact that the well is dark, deep, and cold. Something of the dream-mood will persist after sleep and will even linger on into the morning of the day on which he has to submit to the unpleasant and unpo¬etical duty of visiting me. Perhaps the drab reality will be


touched by the bright, golden after-glow of the dream feeling.
Is this, perhaps, the purpose of the dream? That would not be impossible, for in my experience the vast majority of dreams are compensatory.u


They always stress the other side in order to maintain the psychic equilibrium. But the compensation of mood is not the only purpose of the dream picture. The dream also provides a mental corrective. The patient had of course nothing like an adequate understanding of the treatment to which he was about to submit himself. But the dream gives him a picture which describes in poetic metaphor’s the nature of the treatment before him. This becomes immediately apparent if we follow up his associations and comments on the image of the cathedral: “Cathedral,” he says, “makes me think of Cologne Cathedral. Even as a child I was fascinated by it. I remember my mother telling me of it for the first time, and I also remember how, whenever I saw a village church, I used to ask if that were Cologne Cathedral. I wanted to be a priest in a cathedral like



Collected 7 个人无意识与集体无意识 75

September 15, 2015

Collected 7
Personal, and the Collective (OR TRANSPERSONAL) UNCONSCIOUS

uS We mentioned earlier that the unconscious contains, as it
were, two layers: the personal and the collective. The personal layer ends at the earliest memories of infancy, but the collective layer comprises the pre-infantile period, that is, the residues of ancestral life. Whereas the memory-images of the personal un¬conscious are, as it were, filled out, because they are images per¬sonally experienced by the individual, the archetypes of the col¬lective unconscious are not filled out because they are forms not personally experienced. When, on the other hand, psychic en¬ergy regresses, going beyond even the period of early infancy, and breaks into the legacy of ancestral life, the mythological im¬ages are awakened: these are the archetypes.15 An interior spirit¬ual world whose existence we never suspected opens out and dis¬plays contents which seem to stand in sharpest contrast to all our former ideas.


These images are so intense that it is quite under¬standable why millions of cultivated persons should be taken in by theosophy and anthroposophy. This happens simply because such modern gnostic systems meet the need for expressing and formulating the wordless occurrences going on within ourselves better than any of the existing forms of Christianity, not ex¬cepting Catholicism. The latter is certainly able to express, far more comprehensively than Protestantism, the facts in question through its dogma and ritual symbolism. But neither in the past nor in the present has even Catholicism attained anything like the richness of the old pagan symbolism, which is why this symbolism persisted far into Christianity and then gradually went underground, forming currents that, from the early Middle Ages to modern times, have never quite lost their vitality.

15 The reader will note the admixture here of a new element in the idea of the archetypes, not previously mentioned. This admixture is not a piece of uninten¬tional obscurantism, but a deliberate extension of the archetype by means of the karmic factor, which is so very important in Indian philosophy. The karma aspect is essential to a deeper understanding of the nature of an archetype. Without entering here into a closer description of this factor, I would like at least to mention its existence. I have been severely attacked by critics for my idea of archetypes. I admit at once that it is a controversial idea and more than a little perplexing. But I have always wondered what sort of idea my critics would have used to characterize the empirical material in question.

To a large extent they vanished from the surface; but, changing their form, they come back again to compensate the one-sidedness of our conscious mind with its modern orientation.16 Our con¬sciousness is so saturated with Christianity, so utterly moulded by it, that the unconscious counter-position can discover no foot¬hold there, for the simple reason that it seems too much the antithesis of our ruling ideas. The more one-sidedly, rigidly, and absolutely the one position is held, the more aggressive, hostile, and incompatible will the other become, so that at first sight there would seem to be little prospect of reconciling the two. But once the conscious mind admits at least the relative validity of all human opinion, then the opposition loses something of its irreconcilable character. In the meantime the conflict casts round for appropriate expression in, for instance, the oriental religions-Buddhism, Hinduism, Taoism. The syncretism of theosophy goes a long way towards meeting this need, and that explains its numerous successes.


19 The work involved in analytical treatment gives rise to ex-
periences of an archetypal nature which require to be expressed and shaped. Obviously this is not the only occasion for experi¬ences of such a kind; often they occur quite spontaneously, and by no means only in the case of “psychological-minded” people. I have heard the most curious dreams and visions from the lips of people whose mental sanity not even the professional psychol¬ogist could doubt. The experience of the archetype is frequently guarded as the closest personal secret, because it is felt to strike into the very core of one’s being. It is like a primordial experi-ence of the non-ego, of an interior opponent who throws down a challenge to the understanding.


Naturally enough we then look round for helpful parallels, and it happens all too easily that the original occurrence is interpreted in terms of derivative ideas. A typical instance of this kind is the Trinity vision of Brother Nicholas of Fliie,17 or again, St. Ignatius’ vision of the snake with multiple eyes, which he interpreted first as a divine apparition and then as a visitation from the devil. Through these peri¬phrastic interpretations the authentic experience is replaced by images and words borrowed from a foreign source, and by views, ideas, and forms that have not grown on our soil and have no ties with our hearts, but only with our heads.

当然,我们因此四周观看,寻求帮助的并列。非常容易发生的事情是,原初的发生被解释,用延伸的观念的术语。属于这种的典型的例子,就是尼古拉兄弟的三位一体的幻景。或是圣 伊格那修斯的多重眼睛的蛇的幻景。他首先解释,作为是神性的魅影。因此作为是恶魔的拜访。通过这些累赘的解释,真诚的经验被取代,被从外国来源借用过来的意象与文字所取代,被一些观点,观念,与形式所取代。它们已经在我们的灵魂身上成长,并且跟我们的心没有关系,而仅是跟我们的头。
16 Cf. “ParaceIsus as a Spiritual Phenomenon” and Psychology and Alchemy.
17 Cf. “Brother Klaus,”


Indeed, not even our thought can clearly grasp them, because it never invented them. It is a case of stolen goods that bring no prosperity. Such substitutes make men shadowy and unreal; they put empty words in the place of living realities, and slip out of the painful tension of opposites into a wan, two-dimensional, phantasmal world where everything vital and creative withers and dies.


120 The wordless occurrences which are called forth by regression
to the pre-infantile period need no substitutes; they demand to be individually shaped in and by each man’s life and work. They are images sprung from the life, the joys and sorrows, of our ancestors; and to life they seek to return, not in experience only, but in deed. Because of their opposition to the conscious mind they cannot be translated straight into our world; hence a way must be found that can mediate between conscious and un¬conscious reality.



Collected 7 个人无意识与集体无意识 69

September 11, 2015

Collected 7
Personal, and the Collective (OR TRANSPERSONAL) UNCONSCIOUS

109 So this idea has been stamped on the human brain for aeons.
That is why it lies ready to hand in the unconscious of every man. Only, certain conditions are needed to cause it to appear. These conditions were evidently fulfilled in the case of Robert Mayer. The greatest and best thoughts of man shape themselves upon these primordial images as upon a blueprint. I have often been asked where the archetypes or primordial images come from~ It seems to me that their origin can only be explained by assuming them to be deposits of the constantly repeated experi¬ences of humanity.

所以,这个观念已经被烙印在人类的脑部有好几纪元了。那就是为什么它现成地躺在每个人都无意识里。只是,某些的情况被需要,为了引起它出现。这些情况显而易见地被实践,在罗伯特 梅尔的情况里。人类的最伟大与最佳的思想塑造它们自己,在这些原始的意象里,如同在蓝图上面。我经常被询问,这些原型或原始的意象从何而来。我觉得,它们的起源仅能够被解释,凭借假设它们是人类的不断地被重复的经验的贮藏物。

One of the commonest and at the same time most impressive experiences is the apparent movement of the sun every day. We certainly cannot discover anything of the kind in the unconscious, so far as the known physical process is concerned. What we do find, on the other hand, is the myth of the sun-hero in all its countless variations. It is this myth, and not the physical process, that forms the sun archetype. The same can be said of the phases of the moon. The archetype is a kind of readiness to produce over and over again the same or similar mythical ideas. Hence it seems as though what is im¬pressed upon the unconscious were exclusively the subjective fantasy-ideas aroused by the physical process.


We may therefore assume that the archetypes ‘are recurrent impressions made by subjective reactions.ll Naturally this assumption only pushes the problem further back without solving it. There is nothing to prevent us from assuming that certain archetypes exist even in animals, that they are grounded in the peculiarities of the liv¬ing organism itself and are therefore direct expressions of life whose nature cannot be further explained. Not only are the Jl Ct. “The Structure of the Psyche,” pp. 152ff.


archetypes, apparently, impressions of ever-repeated typical ex¬periences, but, at the same time, they behave empirically like agents that tend towards the repetition of these same experiences. For when an archetype appears in a dream, in a fantasy, or in life, it always brings with it a certain influence or power by vir¬tue of which it either exercises a numinous or a fascinating effect, or impels to action.


110 Having shown, in this example, how new ideas arise out of
the treasure-house of primordial images, we will proceed to the further discussion of the transference process. We saw that the libido had, for its new object, seized upon those seemingly ab¬surd and singular fantasies, the contents of the collective uncon¬scious. As I have already said, the projection of primordial im¬ages upon the doctor is a danger not to be underrated at this stage of the treatment. The images contain not only all the fine and good things that humanity has ever thought and felt, but the worst infamies and devilries of which men have been capa¬ble.


Owing to their specific energy-for they behave like highly charged autonomous centres of power-they exert a fascinating and possessive influence upon the conscious mind and can thus produce extensive alterations in the subject. One can see this in religious conversions, in cases of influence by suggestion, and particularly at the onset of certain forms of schizophrenia.12 Now, if the patient is unable to distinguish the personality of the doctor from these projections, all hope of an understanding is finally lost and a human relationship becomes impossible.


But if the patient avoids this Charybdis, he is wrecked on the Scylla of introjecting these images-in other words, he ascribes their peculiarities not to the doctor but to himself. This is just as dis¬astrous. In projection, he vacillates between an extravagant and pathological deification of the doctor, and a contempt bristling with hatred. In introjection, he gets involved in a ridiculous self¬deification, or else in a moral self-laceration.


The mistake he makes in both cases comes from attributing to a person the con¬tents of the collective unconscious. In this way he makes himself or his partner either god or devil. Here we see the characteristic effect of the archetype: it seizes hold of the psyche with a kind of
12 One such case is analysed in detail in Symbols of Transformation. Cf. also Nelken, “Analytische Beobachtungen iiber Phantasien dues Schizophrenen” (1912), p. 5°4•

primeval force and compels it to transgress the bounds of hu¬manity. It causes exaggeration, a puffed-up attitude (inflation), loss of free will, delusion, and enthusiasm in good and evil alike.


This is the reason why men have always needed demons and cannot live without gods, except for a few particularly clever specimens of homo occidentalis who lived yesterday or the day before, supermen for whom “God is dead” because they them¬selves have become gods-but tin-gods with thick skulls and cold hearts. The idea of God is an absolutely necessary psychological function of an irrational nature, which has nothing whatever to do with the question of God’s existence.


The human intellect can never answer this question, still less give any proof of God. Moreover such proof is superfluous, for the idea of an all-powerful divine Being is present everywhere, unconsciously if not consciously, because it is an archetype. There is in the psyche some superior power, and if it is not consciously a god, it is the “belly” at least, in St. Paul’s words. I therefore consider it wiser to acknowledge the idea of God consciously; for, if we do not, something else is made God, usually something quite inap¬propriate and stupid such as only an “enlightened” intellect could hatch forth.


Our intellect has long known that we can form no proper idea of God, much less picture to ourselves in what manner he really exists, if at all. The existence of God is once and for all an unanswerable question. The consensus gen¬tium has been talking of gods for aeons and will still be talking of them aeons hence. No matter how beautiful and perfect man may believe his reason to be, he can always be certain that it is only one of the possible mental functions, and covers only that one side of the phenomenal world which corresponds to it. But the irrational, that which is not agreeable to reason, rings it about on all sides.


And the irrational is likewise a psychological function-in a word, it is the collective unconscious; whereas the rational is essentially tied to the conscious mind. The conscious mind must have reason, firstly to discover some order in the chaos of disorderly individual events occurring in the world, and secondly to create order, at least in human affairs. We are moved by the laudable and useful ambition to extirpate the chaos of the irrational both within and without to the best of our ability. Apparently the process has gone pretty far. As a mental patient once told me: “Doctor, last night I disinfected the whole heav-

ens with bichloride of mercury, but I found no God.” Some¬thing of the sort has happened to us as well.



From an other to the Other 55

September 8, 2015

From an other to the Other 55

Jacques Lacan
雅克 拉康

22.1.69 Vin 7
Because of course our experience, as they say, in analysis confronts us at
every instant with this effect of loss. And if one does not grasp what is at
stake, one attributes it, under the name of narcissistic wound, to an
imaginary injury. This is how innocent experience testifies that this effect
of loss is met with at every step.


It bears witness to it in an innocent way,
namely, in the most harmful way, by referring it to this schema of
narcissistic wound, namely, from a relationship to one’s fellow that on
this occasion has absolutely nothing to do with it.


It is not because some
fragment that is supposed to be part of the body is detached from it that
the wound in question functions, and every attempt at reparation,
whatever it may be, is condemned to prolong its aberration


What is at
stake, the wound, is elsewhere in an effect that at the start, to recall it, I
distinguished from the imaginary as symbolic. It is in the gap that is
produced or aggravated, because we cannot plumb how much of this gap
was already there in the organism, of this gap between the body and its


In as much as then, as I have said, what determines it or
aggravates it, and it is only this aggravation that is important, is the
incidence of the signifier. The very incidence of the mark, the incidence
of what I earlier called the unary trait, which gives it its consistency.


So then what is at stake is outlined by measuring the effect of this loss, of
this lost object in so far as we designate it by o, at this locus without
which it could not be produced, at this still unknown, still unmeasured
locus called the Other. What does it mean, that one must first take this
measure of which it is enough to have the experience, indeed the passion
for gaming to see its relationship with the way we function as desire.
What is going to be involved between this proportion that we must now
(100) measure? Well then, there is something very strange. This
proportion, this measure, is already there in the figures, I mean in the
written signs with which we articulate the very idea of measure.


22.1.69 v in 8
We do not know anything, at this point, about the nature of the loss. I can
behave as if we never give it any particular support. We give points, I will
not say where we are able to scoop things out, where we get the wood
shavings; but there is no need to know.


As I said, on the one hand we
only know the function of loss and on the other, we undoubtedly do not
know what is involved in the 1 because it is only the unary trait. This not
knowing is only what we are happy to retain of it. And nevertheless it is
enough for us to write l/o in which the proportion is inscribed.


that the relationship of this 1, determining for the effect of loss, is equal
and should be, since it seems indeed that it is a loss that is at stake, to
something in which there is connected by an additive “and” this 1 and the
written sign of this loss, l/o = l+o. Because such indeed in effect is the
inscription from which there results what is involved in a certain
proportion whose harmony, if it must be evoked, does not depend
assuredly on aesthetic effects.

换句话说,这个“我”的关系,决定作为丧失的影响,是相等于,也应该相等于某件东西。因为似乎确实就是一个丧失岌岌可危。在这个东西里,有一个增加{+}被连接一块。这个丧失的书写符号是1/0=1+0。 因为这样的东西实际上是这个铭记,在某种的比例,所被牵涉的东西造成的结果。这个比例的和谐并没有确实依靠美学的影响,即使它必须被召唤。

Simply I would ask you, in order to
measure it yourselves, to allow yourselves to be guided first of all by the
examination of what is involved in its mathematical nature. The
harmonies in question are not constructed by luck, from a lucky
encounter. As I think the bringing together of the series that results from
the recurrent function generated from this equality, as I think I can show
you that one finds in it the characteristic note, that of o, in a whole other
series generated from another starting point, but which interests us just as


As you will see, it is the one that by taking things from another end
would be generated from what we have called the Spaltung or the original
division of the subject, in other words from efforts to make two disjointed
units connect up. This is a field that must be gone through step by step.
It is necessary to write out in a clear way what is involved in the aforesaid


We write it in the following form We put here the o and here the
1, a direction, this direction only exists, I underlined it in passing, from
the fact of our starting point. After the 1, we put l+o. After the o, l-o.


The series is generated from the addition of two terms in order to produce
the following term.


So here we have:

o 1
1-0 l+o
2o-l 2+o
2-3o 3+2o
5o-3 5+3o
5-8o 8+5o

(101) from which you can see that it does not fail to present some
relationships with the opposite list. I pass on, I pass on because it is easy
for you to check the fact that the continuation of these values represents a
proportion that is maintained, namely, that l+o is to 1 as 2+o is to l+o. It
is very exactly what is written in the initial formula. This might just as
well be written: 1, l/o, l/o2, l/o3, l/o4, etc….

从那里,你们能够看见,它一定会呈现某些的关系,跟相对的名单。我传递,我传递下去,因为你们很容易检查这个事实:这些价值的继续代表一个被维持的比例。换句话说,那个1+0 相对于1,就像2+0相对于1+0。 这确实是在最初的公式被书写的东西。这同样可能被书写为:1, l/o, l/o2, l/o3, l/o4, 等等、、、

a number that, since o is less than 1, will keep on increasing.
Here on the contrary you write o2, o3, o4, o5, o6 a number that as I repeat
since o is less than one, will always decrease.

这一个数字将会继续增加,因为0少于1。在此,相反地,你们书写 02,03,04,05,06,这一个数字,如同我重复的,因为0少于1,它将总是减少。


Collected 7 态度与类型的难题8

September 7, 2015

Collected 7
Analytical Psychology
Carl Jung

90 The problem for the adult is very different. He has put this
part of the road behind him with or without difficulty. He has cut loose from his parents, long since dead perhaps, and has sought and found the mother in the wife, or, in the case of a woman, the father in the husband. He has duly honoured his fathers and their institutions, has himself become a father, and, with all this in the past, has possibly come to realize that what

originally meant advancement and satisfaction has now become a boring mistake, part of the illusion of youth, upon which h looks back with mingled regret and envy, because nothing no> awaits him but old age and the end of all illusions. Here there are no more fathers and mothers; all the illusions he projected upon the world and upon things gradually come home to him jaded and way-worn. The energy streaming back from these manifold relationships falls into the unconscious and activate all the things he had neglected to develop.


91 In a young man, the instinctual forces tied up in the neurosi
give him, when released, buoyancy and hope and the chance tl extend the scope of his life. To the man in the second half of life, the development of the function of opposites lying dormant in the unconscious means a renewal; but this development no longer proceeds via the dissolution of infantile ties, the destruction of infantile illusions and the transference of old imagos te new figures: it proceeds via the problem of opposites.


92 The principle of opposition is, of course, fundamental eve I
in adolescence, and a psychological theory of the adolescen psyche is bound to recognize this fact. Hence the Freudian ani Adlerian viewpoints contradict each other only when they clain to be generally applicable theories. But so long as they are con tent to be technical, auxiliary concepts, they do not contradict or exclude one another. A psychological theory, if it is to h more than a technical makeshift, must base itself on the prin ciple of opposition; for without this it could only re-establish; neurotically unbalanced psyche. There is no balance, no systen of self-regulation, without opposition. The psyche is just such: self-regulating system.

93 If at this point we take up the thread we let fall earlier, WI
shall now see clearly why it is that the values which the individual lacks are to be found in the neurosis itself. At this point, too we can return to the case of the young woman and apply the insight we have gained. Let us suppose that this patient is “analysed,” i.e., she has, through the treatment, come to understand the nature of the unconscious thoughts lurking behind the symptoms, and has thus regained possession of the unconscious energy which constituted the strength of those symptoms. The question then arises:What to do with the so-called disposable energy?



question then arises: w

In accordance with the psychological type of the pa¬tient, it would be rational to transfer this energy to an object-to philanthropic work, for example, or some useful activity. With exceptionally energetic natures that are not afraid of wearing themselves to the bone, if need be, or with people who delight in the toil and moil of such activities, this way is possible, but mostly it is impossible.


For-do not forget-the libido, as this psychic energy is technically called, already possesses its object unconsciously, in the form of the young Italian or some equally real human substitute. In these circumstances a sublimation is as impossible as it is desirable, because the real object generally offers the energy a much better gradient than do the most ad¬mirable ethical activities. Unfortunately far too many of us talk about a man only as it would be desirable for him to be, never about the man as he really is. But the doctor has always to do with the real man, who remains obstinately himself until all sides of his reality are recognized. True education can only start from naked reality, not from a delusive ideal.


94 It is unhappily the case that no man can direct the so-called
disposable energy at will. It follows its own gradient. Indeed, it had already found that gradient even before we set the energy free from the unserviceable form to which it was linked. For we discover that the patient’s fantasies, previously occupied with the young Italian, have now transferred themselves to the doc¬tor.12 The doctor has himself become the object of the uncon¬scious libido. If the patient altogether refuses to recognize the fact of the transference,13 or if the doctor fails to understand it,
or interprets it falsely, vigorous resistances supervene, direct( towards making the relation with the doctor completely impc sible. Then the patient goes away and looks for another doctc or for someone who understands; or, if he gives up the searc he gets stuck in his problem.


12 Freud introduced the concept of transference as a designation for the projec¬tion of unconscious contents.
13 Contrary to certain views I am not of the opllllOn that the “transference to the doctor” is a regular phenomenon indispensable to the success of the treat¬ment. Transference is projection, and projection is either there or not there. But it is not necessary. In no sense can it be “made,” for by definition it springs from unconscious motivations. The doctor may be a suitable object for the projection, or he may not. There is absolutely no saying that he will in all circumstances correspond to the natural gradient of the patient’s libido; for it is quite on the cards that the libido is envisaging a much more important object for its projec¬tions. The absence of projections to the doctor may in fact considerably facilitate the treatment, because the real personal values can then come more clearly to the forefront.


95 If, however, the transference to the doctor takes place, and is
accepted, a natural form is found which supplants the earlier one and at the same time provides the energy with an outlet relatively free from conflict. Hence if the libido is allowed to run its natural course, it will find its own way to the destined object. Where this does not happen, it is always a question of wilful defiance of the laws of nature, or of some disturbing influence.


96 In the transference all kinds of infantile fantasies are pro
jected. They must be cauterized, i.e., resolved by reductive an< ysis, and this is generally known as "resolving the transference Thereby the energy is again released from an unserviceabe form, and again we are faced with the problem of its disposabiliity. Once more we shall put our trust in nature, hoping that even before it is sought, an object will have been chosen which will provide a favourable gradient.



Collected 7 态度与类型的难题

September 6, 2015

The initiative of the extravert likewise held good for the other. Thus the attitude of the one includes the other, and this is always in some degree true if a person happens to be in the attitude natu-ral to him, for this attitude has some degree of collective adapta-tion. The same is true of the introvert’s attitude, although this always starts from the subject. It simply goes from subject to object, while the extravert’s attitude goes from object to subject.
Collected 7
Analytical Psychology
Carl Jung

But the moment when, in the case of the introvert, the ob-ject overpowers and attracts the subject, his attitude loses its so¬cial character. He forgets the presence of his friend, he no longer includes him, he becomes absorbed into the object and does not see how very bored his friend is. In the same way the extravert loses all consideration for the other as soon as his expectations are disappointed and he withdraws into subjectivity and moodi¬ness.


We can therefore formulate the occurrence as follows: in the introvert the influence of the object produces an inferior extra¬version, while in the extravert an inferior introversion takes the place of his social attitude. And so we come back to the proposi-tion from which we started: “The value of the one is the nega-tion of value for the other.”


Positive as well as negative occurrences can constellate the inferior counter-function. When this happens, sensitiveness ap-pears. Sensitiveness is a sure sign of the presenc~ of inferiority. This provides the psychological basis for discord and misunder¬standing, not only as between two people, but also in ourselves. The essence of the inferior functionll is autonomy: it is inde-pendent, it attacks, it fascinates and so spins us about that we are no longer masters of ourselves and can no longer rightly distin-guish between ourselves and others.


And yet it is necessary for the development of character that we should allow the other side, the inferior function, to find expression. We cannot in the long run allow one part of our personality to be cared for symbiotically by another; for the mo-ment when we might have need of the other function may come

可是, 这是必要的,对于人格的发展,我们应该容许另外一面,较低劣的功能,找到表达。追根究底,我们无法容下我们的人格的一部分象征方面被另外一部分照顾。因为当我们本来就可能需要另外一个功能的来临。



In extraversion and introversion it is clearly a matter of two antithetical, natural attitudes or trends, which Goethe once re¬ferred to as diastole and systole. They ought, in their harmoni¬ous alternation, to give life a rhythm, but it seems to require a high degree of art to achieve such a rhythm. Either one must do it quite unconsciously, so that the natural law is not disturbed by any conscious act, or one must be conscious in a much higher sense, to be capable of willing and carrying out the antithetical movements.


Since we cannot develop backwards into animal un-consciousness, there remains only the more strenuous way for-wards into higher consciousness. Certainly that consciousness, which would enable us to live the great Yea and Nay of our own free will and purpose, is an altogether superhuman ideal. Still, it is a goal. Perhaps our present mentality only allows us con-sciously to will the Yea and to bear with the Nay. When that is the case, much is already achieved.


The problem of opposites, as an inherent principle of hu-man nature, forms a further stage in our process of realization. As a rule it is one of the problems of maturity. The practical treatment of a patient will hardly ever begin “”with this problem, especially not in the case of young people.


TThe neuroses of the young generally come from a collision between the forces of re¬ality and an inadequate, infantile attitude, which from the causal point of view is characterized by an abnormal dependence on the real or imaginary parents, and from the teleological point of view by unrealizable fictions, plans, and aspirations. Here the reductive methods of Freud and Adler are entirely in place. But there are many neuroses which either appear only at maturity or else deteriorate to such a degree that the patients become inca-pable of work. Naturally one can point out in these cases that an unusual dependence on the parents existed even in youth, and that all kinds of infantile illusions were present; but all that did not prevent them from taking up a profession, from practising it successfully, from keeping up a marriage of sorts until that mo-ment in riper years when the previous attitude suddenly failed. In such cases it is of little help to make them conscious of their childhood fantasies, dependence on the parents, ete., although this is a necessary part of the procedure and often has a not un-favourable result.



But the real therapy only begins when the pa¬tient sees that it is no longer father and mother who are standing in his way, but himself-i.e., an unconscious part of his personal¬ity which carries on the role of father and mother. Even this realization, helpful as it is, is still negative; it simply says, “I realize that it is not father and mother who are against me, but I myself.” But who is it/in him that is against him? What is this mysterious part of his personality that hides under the father¬and mother-imagos, making him believe for years that the cause of his trouble must somehow have got into him from outside? This part is the counterpart of his conscious attitude, and it will leave him no peace and will continue to plague him until it has been accepted. For young people a liberation from the past may be enough: a beckoning future lies ahead, rich in possibilities. It is sufficient to break a few bonds; the life-urge will do the rest. But we are faced with another task in the case of people who have left a large part of their life behind them, for whom the future no longer beckons with marvellous possibilities, and nothing is to be expected but the endless round of familiar du¬ties and the doubtful pleasures of old age.


89 If ever we succeed in liberating young people from the past,
we see that they always transfer the imagos of their parents to more suitable substitute figures. For instance, the feeling that clung to the mother now passes to the wife, and the father’s au¬thority passes to respected teachers and superiors or to institu¬tions. Although this is not a fundamental solution, it is yet a practical road which the normal man treads unconsciously and therefore with no notable inhibitions and resistances.



Collected 7 态度与类型的难题 3

August 31, 2015

Collected 7
Analytical Psychology
Carl Jung

3 Cf. my essay “On Psychic Energy.”


72 We may allow that this view has a certain justification in so
far as man is at all capable of marking out a definite line along which his life has to go. But we know that there is no human foresight or wisdom that can prescribe direction to our life, ex¬cept for small stretches of the way. This is of course true only of the “ordinary” type of life, not of the “heroic” type. The latter kind also exists, though it is much rarer.


Here we are certainly not entitled to say that no marked direction can be given to life, or only for short distances. The heroic style of life is absolute-that is, it is oriented by fateful decisions, and the decision to go in a certain direction holds, sometimes, to the bitter end. Ad¬mittedly the doctor has to do, in the main, only with human beings, seldom with voluntary heroes, and then they are mostly of a type whose surface heroism is an infantile defiance of a fate greater than they, or else a pomposity meant to cover up some touchy inferiority. In this overpoweringly humdrum existence, alas, there is little out of the ordinary that is healthy, and not much room for conspicuous heroism.


Not that heroic demands are never put to us: on the contrary-and this is just what is so irritating and irksome-the banal everyday makes banal de-mands upon our patience, our devotion, perseverance, self¬sacrifice; and for us to fulfil these demands (as we must) humbly and without courting applause through heroic gestures, a hero¬ism is needed that cannot be seen from the outside.


It does not glitter, is not belauded, and it always seeks concealment in ev-eryday attire. These are the demands which, if not fulfilled, are the cause of neurosis. In order to evade them, many a man has dared the great decision of his life and carried it through, even if in the common human estimation it was a great error. Before a fate such as this one can only bow one’s head. But, as I say, such cases are rare; the others are in the vast majority. For them the direction of their life is not a simple, straight line; fate confronts them like an intricate labyrinth, all too rich in possibilities, and yet of these many possibilities only one is their own right way.


Who would presume-even though armed with the completest knowledge of his own character-to designate in advance that single possibility? Much indeed can be attained by the will, but, in view of the fate of certain markedly strong-willed personali¬ties, it is a fundamental error to try to subject our own fate at all costs to our will. Our will is a function regulated by reflection; hence it is dependent on the quality of that reflection.



This, if it really is reflection, is supposed to be rational, i.e., in accord with reason. But has it ever been shown, or will it ever be, that life and fate are in accord with reason, that they too are rational? We have on the contrary good grounds for supposing that they are irrational, or rather that in the last resort they are grounded beyond human reason.
The irrationality of events is shown in what we call chance, which we are obviously compelled to deny because we cannot in principle think of any process that is not causal and necessary, whence it follows that it cannot happen by chance.4 In practice, however, chance reigns everywhere, and so obtrusively that we might as well put our causal philosophy in our pocket.


The plenitude of life is governed by law and yet not governed by law, rational and yet irrational. Hence reason and the will that,is grounded in reason are valid only up to a point. The further we go in the direction selected by reason, the surer we may be that we are excluding the irrational possibilities of life which have just as much right to be lived.


It was indeed highly expedient for man to become somewhat more capable of directing his life. It may justly be maintained that the acquisi¬tion of reason is the greatest achievement of humanity; but that is not to say that things must or will always continue in that direction. The frightful catastrophe of the first World War drew a very thick line through the calculations of even the most opti¬mistic rationalizers of culture. In 1913, Wilhelm Ostwald wrote:

这确实是高度权宜之计,让人变得更加能够引导他自己的生命。同样道理,有人主张,理性的获得就是人类的最大的成就。但是那并不是说,事情必须或总是继续朝着那个方向。第一次世界大战的可怕的灾难非常不可能发生,经过即使是文化里最乐观的理性论者的估算。在1913年,维廉 奥斯陆写著:

4 Modern physics has put an _ end to this strict causality. Now there is only “statistical probability.” As far back as ‘9,6, I had pointed out the limitations of the causal view in psychology, for which I was heavily censured at the time. See my preface to the second edition of Collected Papers on Analytical Psychol¬ogy, in Freud and Psychoanalysis, pp. 293ff.

The whole world is agreed that the present state of armed peace is untenable and is gradually becoming impossible. It demands tremen¬dous sacrifices from each single nation, far exceeding the expendi¬ture for cultural purposes, yet without securing any positive values.

If mankind could discover ways and means for doing away with these preparations for wars which never take place, together with the immobilization of a large part of the nation’s manhood, at the age of maximum strength and efficiency, for the furtherance of war¬like aims, and all the other innumerable evils which the present state of affairs creates, such an immense economy of energy would be effected that from this moment onwards we could look forward to a blossoming of culture hitherto undreamed of. For war, like per¬sonal combat, although the oldest of all possible means of settling contests of will, is on that very account the most inept, and entails the most grievous waste of energy. Hence the complete abolition of warfare, potential no less than actual, is the categorical imperative of efficiency and one of the supremely important cultural tasks of our day.5


73 The irrationality of fate, however, did not concur with the
rationality of well-meaning thinkers; it ordained not only the destruction of the accumulated arms and armies, but, far beyond that, a mad and monstrous devastation, a mass murder without parallel-from which humanity may possibly draw the conclu¬sion that only one side of fate can be mastered with rational intentions.



Analytical Psychology

August 25, 2015

Analytical Psychology
Karl Jung
卡尔 荣格


35 So far we have considered the problem of this new psychology essentially from the Freudian point of view. Undoubtedly it has shown us a very real truth to which our pride, our civilized con¬sciousness, may say no, though something else in us says yes. Many people find this fact extremely irritating; it arouses their hostility or even their fear, and consequently they are unwilling to recognize the conflict.


And indeed it is a frightening thought that man also has a shadow-side to him, consisting not just of little weaknesses and foibles, but of a positively demonic dyna¬mism. The individual seldom knows anything of this; to him, as an individual, it is incredible that he should ever in any circum¬stances go beyond himself. But let these harmless creatures form a mass, and there emerges a raging monster; and each individual is only one tiny cell in the monster’s body, so that for better or worse he must accompany it on its bloody rampages and even assist it to the utmost. Having a dark suspicion of these grim possibilities, man turns a blind eye to the shadow-side of human nature.


Blindly he strives against the salutary dogma of original sin, which is yet so prodigiously true. Yes, he even hesitates to admit the conflict of which he is so painfully aware. It can read¬ily be understood that a school of psychology-even if it be biased and exaggerated in this or that respect-which insists on the seamy side, is unwelcome, not to say frightening, because it forces us to gaze into the bottomless abyss of this problem.


A dim premonition tells us that we cannot be whole without this negative side, that we have a body which, like all bodies, casts a shadow, and that if we deny this body we cease to be three¬dimensional and become flat and without substance. Yet this body is a beast with a beast’s soul, an organism that gives un¬questioning obedience to instinct. To unite oneself with this

shadow is to say yes to instinct, to that formidable dynamism lurking in the background. From this the ascetic morality of Christianity wishes to free us, but at the risk of disorganizing man’s animal nature at the deepest level.


36 Has anyone made clear to himself what that means-a yea-
saying to instinct? That was what N ietzsche desired and taught, and he was in deadly earnest. With a rare passion he sacrificed himself, his whole life, to the idea of the Superman-to the idea of the man who through obedience to instinct transcends him¬self. And what was the course of that life? It was as N ietzsche himself prophesied in Zarathustra) in that foreboding vision of the fatal fall of the rope-dancer, the man who would not be “sur¬passed.” To the dying rope-dancer Zarathustra says: “Thy soul will sooner be dead than thy body!” and later the dwarf says to Zarathustra, “0 Zarathustra, stone of wisdom! High thou fling¬est thyself, but every stone that is flung must fall! Condemned to thyself and to thine own stoning: 0 Zarathustra, far indeed thou flingest the stone-but upon thyself will it fall.” And when he cried his “Ecce Homo” over himself, again it was too late, as once before when this saying was uttered, and the crucifixion of the soul began before the body was dead.


37 We must look very critically at the life of one who taught
such a yea-saying, in order to examine the effects of this teaching on the teacher’s own life. When we scrutinize his life with this aim in view we are bound to admit that Nietzsche lived beyond instinct, in the lofty heights of heroic sublimity-heights that he could maintain only with the help of the most meticulous diet, a carefully selected climate, and many aids to sleep-until the ten¬sion shattered his brain. He talked of yea-saying and lived the nay. His loathing for man, for the human animal that lived by instinct, was too great. Despite everything, he could not swallow the toad he so often dreamed of and which he feared had to be swallowed. The roaring of the Zarathustrian lion drove back into the cavern of the unconscious all the “higher” men who were clamouring to live. Hence his life does not convince us of hi.s teaching. For the “higher” man wants to be able to sleep wIthout chloral, to live in Naumburg and Basel despite “fogs and shadows.” He desires wife and offspring, standing and es¬teem among the herd, innumerable commonplace realities, and not least those of the Philistine. Nietzsche failed to live this in-

stinct, the animal urge to life. For all his greatness and impor¬tance, Nietzsche’s was a pathological personality.




August 20, 2015

Carl Jung
卡尔 荣格
c. Introduction

The applicability of the energic standpoint to psychology rests, then, exclusively on the question whether a quantitative estimate of psychic energy is possible or not. This question can be met with an unconditional affirmative, since our psyche actually possesses an extraordinarily well-developed evaluating system, namely the system of psychological values. Values are quantitative estimates of energy. Here it should be remarked that in our collective moral and aesthetic values we have at our disposal not merely an objective system of value but an objec¬tive system of measurement. This system of measurement is not, however, directly available for our purpose, since it is a general scale of values which takes account only indirectly of subjective, that is to say individual, psychological conditions.

1. 价值的主观系统

What we must first of all consider, therefore, is the subjective value system) the subjective estimates of the single individual. We can, as a matter of fact, estimate the subjective values of our psychic contents up to a certain point, even though it is at times extraordinarily difficult to measure them with objective ac¬curacy against the generally established values. However, this comparison is superfluous for our purpose, as already said. We can weigh our subjective evaluations against one another and determine their relative strength. Their measurement is never¬theless relative to the value of other contents and therefore not absolute and objective, but it is sufficient for our purpose inas¬much as different intensities of value in relation to similar qualities can be recognized with certainty, while equal values under the same conditions plainly maintain themselves in equilibrium.


The difficulty begins only when we have to compare the value intensities of different qualities, say the value of a scien¬tific idea compared with a feeling impression. Here the subjec¬tive estimate becomes uncertain and therefore unreliable. In the same way, the subjective estimate is restricted to the contents

of consciousness; hence it is useless with respect to unconscious influences, where we are concerned with valuations that go beyond the boundaries of consciousness.


17 In view of the compensatory relationship known to exist be-
tween the conscious and the unconscious,16 however, it is of great importance to find a way of determining the value of un¬conscious products. If we want to carry through the energic approach to psychic events, we must bear in mind the exceed• ingly important fact that conscious values can apparently dis¬appear without showing themselves again in an equivalent conscious achievement. In this case we should theoretically expect their appearance in the unconscious. But since the un¬conscious is not directly accessible either in ourselves or in others, the evaluation can only be an indirect one, so we must have recourse to auxiliary methods in order to arrive at our estimates of value. In the case of subjective evaluation, feeling and insight come to our aid immediately, because these are func¬tions which have been developing over long periods of time and have become very finely differentiated. Even the child practises very early the differentiation of his scale of values; he weighs up whether he likes his father or mother better, who comes in the second and third place, who is most hated, ete. This con¬scious evaluation not only breaks down in regard to the mani• festations of the unconscious but is actually twisted into the most obvious false estimates, also described as “repressions” or the “displacement of affect.” Subjective evaluation is therefore completely out of the question in estimating unconscious value intensities. Consequently we need an objective point of depar¬ture that will make an indirect but objective estimate possible.


18 In my study of the phenomena of association 17 I have shown
that there are certain constellations of psychic elements grouped round feeling-toned 18 contents, which I. have called “corn• plexes.” The feeling-toned content, the complex, consists of a nuclear element and a large num bel’ of secondarily constellated associations, The nuclear element consists of two components: first, a factor determined by experience and causally related to the environment; second, a factor innate in the individual’s character and determined by his disposition.


16 The one-sidedness of consciousness is compensated by a counterposition in the unconscious. It is chiefly the facts of psychopathology that show the compensatory attitude of the unconscious most clearly. Evidence for this may be found in the writings of Freud and Adler, also in my “Psychology of Dementia Praecox.” For a theoretical discussion see my “Instinct and the Unconscious,” pars. 263ft., infra. On the general significance of psychological compensation see Maeder, “Regula¬tion psychique et gucrison.”
17 (C£. Vo!. 2, Collected Works (lg18 edn.: Studies in Word Association).-EoITORS.l


Ig The nuclear element is characterized by its feeling-tone, the
emphasis resulting from the intensity of affect. This emphasis, expressed in terms of energy, is a value quantity. In so far as the nuclear element is conscious, the quantit.y can be subjec¬tively estimated, at. least relatively. But if, as frequently hap¬pens, the nuclear element is unconscious,19 at any rate in its psychological significance, then a subjective estimate becomes impossible, and one must substitute the indirect method of evaluation. This is based, in principle, on the following fact; 18
[Cf. Psychiatric Studies, par. 168, n. 2a.-EolToRS.]


19 That a complex or its essential nucleus can be unconscious is not a self• evident fact. A complex would not be a complex at all if it did not possess a cer¬tain, even a considerable, affective intensity. One would expect that this energic value would automatically force the complex into consciousness, that the power of attraction inherent within it would compel conscious attention. (Fields of power attract one another mutually~) That this, as experience shows, is fre¬quently not the case requires a special expl:tnation. The readiest and simplest explanation is given hy Freud’s theory of repression. This theory presupposes a counterposition in the conscious mind: the conscious attitude is, so to speak, hostile to the unconscious complex and does not allow it to reach consciousness. This theory certainly explains very many cascs, but in my experience there are some cases that cannot be so explained. Actually, the repression theory takes account only of those cases in which a content, in itself pcrfectly capable of becoming conscious, is either quite consciously repressed and made unconscious, or has right from the beginning never reached consciousness. It does not take into account those other cases in which a content of high energic intensity is formed out of unconscious material that is not in itself capable of becoming con¬scions, and so cannot be made conscious at all, or only with the greatest difficulty. In these cases the conscious attitude, far from being hostile to the unconscious content, would be most favourably disposed towards it, as in the case of creative products, which, as we know, almost always have their first beginnings in the unconscious. Just as a mother awaits her child witll longing and yet brings it into the world only with effort and pain, so a new, creative content, despite the will. ingness of the conscious mind, can remain for a long time in the unconscious without being “repressed;” Though it has a high energic value it still does not become conscious. Cases of this sort are not too difficult to explain. Because the content is new and therefore strange to consciousness, there are no existing
I 1


that the nuclear element automatically creates a complex to the degTee that it is affectively toned and possesses energic value, as I have shown in detail in the second and third chapters of my “Psychology of Dementia Praecox.”


The nuclear element has a constellating power corresponding to its energic value. It pro¬duces a specific constellation of psychic contents, thus giving rise to the complex, which is a constellation of psychic contents dynamically conditioned by the energic value. The resultant constell;:.tion, however, is not just an irradiation of the psychic stimulus, but a selection of the stimulated psychic contents which is conditioned by the quality of the nuclear element. This selection cannot, of course, be explained in terms of energy, because the energic explanation is quantitative and not quali-tative. For a qualitative explanation we must have recourse to the causal view.20 The proposition upon which the objective estimate of psychological value intensities is based therefore runs as follows: the constellating power of the nuclear element corresponds to its value intensity) i.e.) to its energy.