Showing posts with label Interviews and Encounters. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Interviews and Encounters. Show all posts

Sunday, April 22, 2018

Carl Jung on the creation and future of Freudian, Adlerian and Jungian philosophies.




Stephen Black: Professor Jung, could you tell me how it came about that psychological medicine came to be divided so sharply in the first half of this century into Freudian and Adlerian and Jungian philosophies?

Dr. Jung: Well, that is so.

Always in the beginning of a new science, or when a new problem is tackled in science, there are necessarily many different aspects, particularly in a science like psychology, and particularly so when an absolutely new factor

has been brought into the discussion. Stephen Black: Which was that?

Dr. Jung: In this case, it was the unconscious—the concept of the unconscious.

It has been a philosophical concept before—in the philosophy of Carl Gustav Carus and then his follower Ed- uard von Hartmann.

But it was a mere speculative concept.

The unconscious was a kind of philosophical concept at first, but through the discoveries by Freud it became a practical medical concept, because he discovered these mechanisms

or connections. . . . He made of it a medical science. This is empirical.

An empirical medical science.

That was an entirely new proposition.

And naturally quite a number of opinions are possible in the beginning, where one is insufficiently acquainted with the phenomena.

It needed many experiments and experiences until one could establish a general terminology, for instance, or even a doctrine.

Now, I never got as far as to produce a general doctrine, because I always felt we don’t know enough.

But Freud started the theory very early and so did Adler, because that can be explained by the human need for certainty.

You feel completely lost in such an enormous field as psychology represents.

And there you must have something to cling to, some guidance as it were, and that is probably the reason why this kind of psychology set out with almost ready-made theories.

At least, the theories were conceived in a moment when one didn’t know enough about the role of the psychology of the unconscious.

That is my private view, and so I’ve refrained from forming theories. Carl Jung, C.G. Jung Speaking: Inter- views and Encounters, Pages 252-267.

Stephen Black: What in your view will be the final outcome of this kind of scientific quarrel between the various schools of medical psychology?

Dr. Jung: For the time being it is certainly a sort of quarrel, but in the course of time it will be as it always has been in the history of science.

You will see that certain points will be taken from Freud’s ideas, others from Adler’s ideas, and something of my ideas.

There is no question of victory of one idea, of one way of looking at things.

Such victories are only obtained where it is a matter of pretension, of convictions, for instance, philosophical or religious convictions.

In science there is nothing of the kind, there is merely the truth as one can see it. Carl Jung, C.G. Jung Speaking: Interviews and Encounters, Pages 252-267.


Thursday, March 16, 2017

Carl Jung on “The Frontiers of Knowledge”




C. G. JUNG INTERVIEW

Georges Duplain: I am astonished that you should be willing to see a journalist when so many of your own medical followers cannot get near you!

Dr. Jung: I am astonished, too, to see you here; that a journalist should want to see me—ever since the busi- ness of the flying
saucers arose, they have been trying to pass me off as senile! But I must say that the French Swiss behave relatively well.
I have met with a surprising understanding on your part.

As far as the flying saucers go I haven’t much to add.

I have received quantities of new documents since my book appeared; ’they don’t make the matter any clearer but they
show more and more how important it is.

Oh, there’s an immense amount to this phenomenon.

Georges Duplain: You speak of a change of era, of a new Platonic month, of the passage into another sign of the zodiac.

What do you mean by that, what reality do such constellations have?

Dr. Jung: People don’t like you to talk about that, you will get yourself laughed at. Nobody has read Plato—you haven’t either.
Yet he is one of those who have come closest to the truth.

The influence of the constellations, the zodiac, they exist; you cannot explain why, it’s a "Just-So Story," that proves itself by a thousand signs.

But men always go from one extreme to the other, either they don’t believe, or they are credulous, any knowledge or faith can be ridiculed on the basis of what small minds do with it.

That’s stupid and, above all, it’s dangerous. The great astrological periods do exist.
Taurus and Gemini were prehistoric periods, we don’t know much about them. But Aries the Ram is closer; Alexander the Great was one of its manifestations. That was from 2000 B.C. to the beginning of the Christian era.

With that era we came into the sign of the Fishes.

It was not I who invented all the fish symbols there are in Christianity: the fisher of men, the pisciculi christianorum.

Christianity has marked us deeply because it incarnates the symbols of the era so well.

It goes wrong in so far as it believes itself to be the only truth; when what it is is one of the great expressions of truth in our time.

To deny it would be to throw the baby out with the bathwater. Georges Duplain: What comes next?

Dr. Jung: Aquarius, the Water-pourer, the falling of water from one place to another.

And the little fish’ receiving the water from the pitcher of the Water-pourer, and whose principal star is Fomal- haut, which means the "fish’s mouth."

In our era the fish is the content; with the Water-pourer, he becomes the container. It’s a very strange symbol.
I don’t dare interpret it.

So far as one can tell, it is the image of a great man approaching.

One finds, besides, a lot of things about this in the Bible itself: there are more things in the Bible than the theologians can admit.

It’s a matter of experience that the symbolism changes from one sign to another, and there is the risk that this passage will be all the more difficult for the men of today and tomorrow because they no longer believe in it, no longer want to be conscious of it.

Why, when Pope Pius XII in one of his last discourses deplored that the world was no longer conscious enough of the presence of angels, he was saying to his faithful Catholics in Christian terms exactly what I am trying to say in terms of psychology to those who stand more chance of understanding this language than any other.

Georges Duplain: But what recommendations can you make for the passage that is about to take place, whose difficulties you fear?

Dr. Jung: A spirit of greater openness towards the unconscious, an increased attention to dreams, a sharper sense of the totality of the physical and the psychic, of their indissolubility; a livelier taste for self-knowledge. Better established mental hygiene, if you want to put it that way.

Georges Duplain: The religions have tried to be this, but the result is not entirely satisfactory, don’t you agree?

Dr. Jung: What is very important is to exist, and that’s rarer than one realizes.

To have a daily task and to accomplish it; and at the same time to attend to what is going on, inside oneself as well as outside, conscious of all life’s forms, all its expressions.

To follow the major rules, but also to give free rein to the least familiar aspects of oneself. Drawing, and the fantasies and visions that it brought about, was a valuable thing.

Now we take photographs, and that doesn’t fill the same need at all.

In return, the painters recognize no limits to the most impassioned fantasy.

They are becoming specialists in certain needs for expression; but all of us have these needs, we can’t divide up the personality’s inside work the way we think we can divide its outside activity.

That breaks up something essential in it and causes an appalling psychic illness.

In writing about flying saucers, I explained why men are so attentive to anything resembling a circle or a ball, the symbols of unity, of the totality of a person’s being, of what I have called the self.

There is a terrible spiritual famine in our world, but there are also people who don’t want to be beak-fed or fed with infant’s
pap.

Georges Duplain: May I ask you to repeat the principal points of your system which may assist man to dis- cover his totality and allay his spiritual famine, when he no longer adheres to the words of Christianity?

Carl Jung: In the first place, I have no system, no doctrine, nothing of that kind. I am an empiricist, with no metaphysical
views at all.

I have only hypotheses.

From them I have gained some basic principles.

There is the self, which is the totality of one’s being, known and unknown, conscious and unconscious, as opposed to the distinction between physical and psychic.

Then there are the archetypes, those images of instinct.

For instinct is not just an outward thrust, it also takes part in the representation of forms. The animal, for example, has a certain idea of the plant, since he recognizes it.

Our instincts do not express themselves only in our actions and reactions, but also in the way we formulate what we imagine.

Instinct is not only biological, it is also, you might say, spiritual.

And it always repeats certain forms which can be studied down the ages among all peoples. These are the archetypes.
The crossing of a river, now, that is an archetypal situation. It’s an important moment, a risk.

There is danger in the water, on the banks.

Not for nothing did Christianity invent great St. Christopher, the giant who carried the infant Jesus through the water.

Today men don’t have that experience very often, or others of that sort either.

I remember river crossings in Africa with crocodiles, and unknown tribes on the other side; one feels that one’s destiny —human destiny, almost—is at stake.

Every man has his own way of approaching the crossing, you see.

And think of King Albrecht’s death near Wettingen, too: the knights were hesitant, not very determined, one can’t be at all sure that they would have attacked the king just anywhere.

But they surprised him in the middle of the ford, in the place where fate strikes—and jumped at the chance.

There is also the collective unconscious, that immense treasury, that great reservoir, whence mankind draws the
images, the forces, which it translates into very different languages, but whose common source is being found out more clearly all the time.

So many coincidences come from there.

Georges Duplain: Is your explanation of man and the world understandable to simple people or reserved for the intellectual elite?

Dr. Jung: There are two distinct things: the use of psychotherapy is reserved for medical specialists—not everyone can fool around with that—but what you call the "explanation" reaches a lot more people than I would have thought possible myself.

I always remember a letter I received one morning, a poor scrap of paper, really, from a woman who wanted to see me just once in her life.

The letter made a very strong impression on me, I am not quite sure why.

I invited her to come and she came. She was very poor—poor intellectually too. I don’t believe she had ever finished primary school.

She kept house for her brother; they ran a little newsstand.

I asked her kindly if she really understood my books which she said she had read.

And she replied in this extraordinary way, "Your books are not books, Herr Professor, they are bread."

And the little travelling salesman of women’s things, who stopped me in the street and looked at me with immense
eyes, saying, "Are you really the man who writes those books? Are you truly the one who writes about these things no one knows?"

Yes, in the long run I am very optimistic.

The people do follow it. In the French part of Switzerland the first edition of my L’Homme a la decouverte de son lime’ was sold out in three months.

Georges Duplain: Who reads it? Dr. Jung: Not the professors.

Georges Duplain: How did you arrive at your global concept of the human being, of the totality? Dr. Jung: Empiricism, I tell you, observation.

One must admit that the psychological fact is everything.

Perception makes reality psychic, we live in the sort of a world-image that our senses and intelligence can per- ceive; we do not know true reality, in so far as all of it is not conceivable to us.

Georges Duplain: But we have quantities of signs of the reality beyond. Dr. Jung: We should try to understand what is beyond us.
That is accomplished by stages.

A whole evolution was needed before the idea of the unconscious was accepted. Nietzsche, Schopenhauer, Pierre Janet, Charcot, Freud: they were so many steps. The conjunction of several lines of study in one man was also needed.

I have had the good luck to be able to study all my life.

My father was a theologian, specializing in oriental languages; he passed on a bit of his gift for language to me.

I studied the literature, I studied medieval and ancient alchemy.

Comparative religion, of course, and, to begin with, philosophy at the same time as medicine.

All of that was necessary to work out the line of thought and the mental attitude that have led me to uncover certain laws.

And don’t forget my travels, particularly in India and Africa, where one meets men of other epochs.

By dint of observation, of discovery, one notes relationships, resemblances, coincidences, and one tries to get back to their common source, for there certainly must be one.

It’s the sum of experience, that’s all.

Let me tell you a story which happened a long while ago, to show you how empiricism leads to certain discoveries.

The doctor of a small town in Canton Solothurn had sent me a young patient who suffered from incurable insomnia.

She was pining away from lack of sleep and narcotics.

He could think of no way to help her except hypnotism or this new psychoanalysis that they were beginning to talk about.

But she came to me.

She was a teacher, twenty-five years old, of a very simple family, who had successfully completed her studies, but who lived in constant fear of making a mistake, of not being worthy of her position.

She had gotten into an unbearable state of spasmodic tension. Clearly, what she needed was psychic relaxation.
But we did not know much about all those ideas then.

There was no one in the locality where she lived who could handle her case, and she could not come to Zurich for treatment.

I had to do, as best I could, whatever was possible in an hour.

I tried to explain to her that relaxation was necessary, that I, for example, found relaxation by sailing on the lake, by letting
myself go with the wind; that this was good for one, necessary for everybody. But I could see by her eyes that she didn’t understand.
She got it intellectually, that’s as far as it went, though. Reason had no effect.
Then, as I talked of sailing and of the wind, I heard the voice of my mother singing a lullaby to my little sister as she used to do when I was eight or nine, a story of a little girl in a little boat, on the Rhine, with little fishes.

And I began, almost without doing it on purpose, to hum what I was telling her about the wind, the waves, the sailing,
and relaxation, to the tune of the little lullaby.

I hummed those sensations, and I could see that she was "enchanted." But the hour came to an end, and I had to send her away brusquely.
I knew nothing more about her.

I had forgotten her name and that of her physician. But it was a story that haunted me.
Years later, at a congress, a stranger introduced himself to me as the doctor from Solothurn and reminded me

of the story of the young girl.

"Certainly I remember the case," I said. "I should have liked so much to know what became of her."

"But," he replied in surprise, "she came back cured, as you know, and I was the one who always wanted to know what you had done.

Because all she could tell me was some story about sailing and wind, and I never could get her to tell me what you really did.

I think she doesn’t remember.

Of course, I know it’s impossible that you only hummed her a story about a boat." How was I to explain to him that I had simply listened to something within myself? I had been quite at sea.

How was I to tell him that I had sung her a lullaby with my mother’s voice? Enchantment like that is the oldest form of medicine.

But it all happened outside of my reason: it was not until later that I thought about it rationally and tried to arrive at the laws behind it.

She was cured by the grace of God.

Georges Duplain: How can you speak of the grace of God? Dr. Jung: And why not?

A good dream, for example, that’s grace. The dream is in essence a gift.

The collective unconscious, it’s not for you, or me, it’s the invisible world, it’s the great spirit.

It makes little difference what I call it: God, Tao, the Great Voice, the Great Spirit.

But for people of our time God is the most comprehensible name with which to designate the Power beyond us.

The images of God—it’s an immense story.

I remember an African tribe whose members greeted the first rays of the sun by spitting in their hands and turning them towards it.

That’s classic: since breath is the soul, the saliva which accompanies the breath is the substance of the soul.

What that gesture means exactly is: "My God, I offer you my soul." I tried to find out if they knew the meaning of their gesture.

No, the young did not know, nor the fathers.

But the grandfathers knew, it is they who guard the secrets.

And elsewhere you see this gesture in the carved dog-headed baboons of Abu Simbel.

I watched the tribesmen and when I thought I had understood them I asked, "Your god Mungu, he is the sun?" Homeric gales of laughter from the tribesmen.

This poor imbecile of a white man, imagining that we worship that ball of light and heat!

I looked closer. The same rite also greeted the new moon.

So, in the end, I understood their god: it was the moment when darkness changes into light, not the sun it- self, but its appearing."

There is Horus, too, among the Egyptians.

There are so many things and they all hang together.

The French writer Colette once said to her husband about some bit of animal behavior, "Maurice, there’s just one animal, just one animal!"

I wasn’t familiar with that but it’s exactly the same idea, the same sense of totality, expressed in the language of someone very close to the animal world.

There are so many possible forms of the truth.

We must find simple words for the great truths; we must try to approach the living truth behind things, it’s mankind’s oldest effort.

In our time, it’s the intellect that is making darkness, because we’ve let it take too big a place. Consciousness discriminates, judges, analyzes, and emphasizes the contradictions.

It’s necessary work up to a point.

But analysis kills and synthesis brings to life.

We must find out how to get everything back into connection with everything else.

We must resist the vice of intellectualism, and get it understood that we cannot only understand.

Two or three more centuries will go by before the new era I spoke of in connection with the flying saucers.

A lot will still have to happen to mankind.

Many things will have to change before the new style comes to birth, the new formula for the realization of humanity.

I remember a marvellous sight I beheld one evening in India at the Darjeeling observatory.

Sikkim was already in shadow, the mountains blue to about four thousand meters, violet to about seven thou- sand.

And there in the middle of that ring of mountains was Kanchenjunga in all its glory, resplendent as a ruby. It was the lotus with the jewel without price in its center.
And all the savants and scientists, lost in wonder at this spectacle, said "OM" without realizing it.

That’s the primal word, the sound that passes from mother to child, and what some primitives say when they approach a stranger.

And after the learned men had regained consciousness, they felt the need of a word and they asked me to re- cite part of Faust.

Georges Duplain: Faust—you know how Goethe spoke of that work, of the research into the essential that it meant? As "das Hauptgeschaft," the main thing, the essential.

Dr. Jung: Man has need of the word, but number is a much more important thing. In essence, number is sacred.
Lots of important things might be said about it.

The quaternity, above all, is an essential archetype. The square, the cross.
The squaring of the circle by the alchemists.

The cross in the circle, or, for Christians, Christ in "glory."

It is not I who have made up all that. It exists, and it’s important.

Georges Duplain: What can men do, and especially we Swiss, to prepare ourselves and help everyone prepare himself to face a future already disturbing in its immediacy?

Dr. Jung: There is no entirely simple, thoroughly rational recipe.

Most of us are too academic-minded to come face to face with living reality in its wholeness, its totality.

We prefer to deny it because that’s easier, and because we can find such a lot of good, honest, reasonable arguments for doing so.

What would you have me do?

I say what I know, what I believe, how I see things.

But I know very well that truth is ineffable and all our approaches to it, gross. Just the same, we’re moving ahead.
But it’s such a long story.

In the case of Switzerland there are some profound symbols which are very strange: the union of white and red in
our flag, for example, is a "sign" of the reconciliation of opposites.

I pointed out in my book on "flying objects" that the white star on American airplanes and the red star on Soviet planes also show this opposition of masculine and feminine colors.

In Switzerland this symbolism may be said to point to their reconciliation, since the two colors are conjoined.

And besides there is also (on our flag) the cross, which is the sign of the quaternity already to be found in the center of Switzerland, where the rivers take their rise, as though the play of nature had marked out that quaternity.

If we were more conscious in our country, we might think more of this; we might allow these great symbols to penetrate us.

But there is no entirely simple, thoroughly rational recipe: though the Swiss want that above all.

The sort of things that we have been talking about are, without doubt, harder to explain to the Swiss than to other people.

We are extremely materialistic in the broadest sense of the term. Feet on the ground, heads not too high in the sky!

We believe in nothing but what we see, what we touch, what we know.

The Swiss is much too literal-minded to come face to face with live reality in its wholeness, its totality.

He prefers to deny it because that is easier, and because such a lot of good, honest, reasonable arguments can be found to support his
denial.

What would you have me do?

I say what I know, what I believe, how I see things.

But I know very well that the Truth is ineffable, and all our approaches to it are gross. Just the same we are moving ahead.
But it is such a long story.

There is one thing that counts, though: we’re beginning to look at history in the light of perspectives gained from the study of the psyche and of human behavior.

And not only history but economics, too.

Men like Professor Karl Schmid" at the Federal Institute of Technology, Zurich, or Professor Baler" and his Insti- tute for Economic Research, have a very extensive acquaintance with psychology; their better knowledge of man and what motivates him should
permit a better understanding of political and economic conditions.

With time and accumulated experience, we shall not only understand the past better, but maybe we shall also learn how to avoid the most dangerous situations in the future, to forestall political crises just as we now begin to know how to forestall economic crises.

That would be progress, if men were wise enough.

But remember what the Pope said: "The world should be more conscious of the presence of angels."

There was a man who was conscious of what the unconscious brings us, who was in contact with the living truth. Carl Jung, C.G. Jung Speaking: Interviews and Encounters, Pages 410-423

Carl Jung: “But remember what the Pope said: "The world should be more conscious of the presence of angels."




“Why, when Pope Pius XII in one of his last discourses deplored that the world was no longer conscious enough of the presence of angels, he was saying to his faithful Catholics in Christian terms exactly what I am trying to say in terms of psychology to those who stand more chance of understanding this language than any other.”

“But remember what the Pope said: "The world should be more conscious of the presence of angels."

There was a man who was conscious of what the unconscious brings us, who was in contact with the living truth. Carl Jung, C.G. Jung Speaking: Interviews and Encounters, Pages 410-423

Carl Jung on a young woman who suffered from incurable insomnia




The doctor of a small town in Canton Solothurn had sent me a young patient who suffered from incurable insomnia. She was pining away from lack of sleep and narcotics.

He could think of no way to help her except hypnotism or this new psychoanalysis that they were beginning to talk about.

But she came to me.

She was a teacher, twenty-five years old, of a very simple family, who had successfully completed her studies, but who lived in constant fear of making a mistake, of not being worthy of her position.

She had gotten into an unbearable state of spasmodic tension. Clearly, what she needed was psychic relaxation.

But we did not know much about all those ideas then.

There was no one in the locality where she lived who could handle her case, and she could not come to Zurich for treatment.

I had to do, as best I could, whatever was possible in an hour.

I tried to explain to her that relaxation was necessary, that I, for example, found relaxation by sailing on the lake, by letting myself go with the wind; that this was good for one, necessary for everybody. But I could see by her eyes that she didn’t understand.

She got it intellectually, that’s as far as it went, though. Reason had no effect.

Then, as I talked of sailing and of the wind, I heard the voice of my mother singing a lullaby to my little sister as she used to do when I was eight or nine, a story of a little girl in a little boat, on the Rhine, with little fishes.

And I began, almost without doing it on purpose, to hum what I was telling her about the wind, the waves, the sailing, and relaxation, to the tune of the little lullaby.

I hummed those sensations, and I could see that she was "enchanted." But the hour came to an end, and I had to send her away brusquely.

I knew nothing more about her.

I had forgotten her name and that of her physician. But it was a story that haunted me.
Years later, at a congress, a stranger introduced himself to me as the doctor from Solothurn and reminded me of the story of the young girl.

"Certainly I remember the case," I said. "I should have liked so much to know what became of her."

"But," he replied in surprise, "she came back cured, as you know, and I was the one who always wanted to know what you had done.

Because all she could tell me was some story about sailing and wind, and I never could get her to tell me what you really did.

I think she doesn’t remember.

Of course, I know it’s impossible that you only hummed her a story about a boat." How was I to explain to him that I had simply listened to something within myself?

I had been quite at sea.

How was I to tell him that I had sung her a lullaby with my mother’s voice? Enchantment like that is the oldest form of medicine.

But it all happened outside of my reason: it was not until later that I thought about it rationally and tried to arrive at the laws behind it.

She was cured by the grace of God. Carl Jung, C.G. Jung Speaking: Interviews and Encounters, Pages 410- 423


Carl Jung: There is a terrible spiritual famine in our world,




Dr. Jung: What is very important is to exist, and that’s rarer than one realizes.

To have a daily task and to accomplish it; and at the same time to attend to what is going on, inside oneself as well as outside, conscious of all life’s forms, all its expressions.

To follow the major rules, but also to give free rein to the least familiar aspects of oneself. Drawing, and the fantasies and visions that it brought about, was a valuable thing.

Now we take photographs, and that doesn’t fill the same need at all.

In return, the painters recognize no limits to the most impassioned fantasy.

They are becoming specialists in certain needs for expression; but all of us have these needs, we can’t divide up the personality’s insidework the way we think we can divide its outside activity.

That breaks up something essential in it and causes an appalling psychic illness.

In writing about flying saucers, I explained why men are so attentive to anything resembling a circle or a ball, the symbols of unity, of the totality of a person’s being, of what I have called the self.

There is a terrible spiritual famine in our world, but there are also people who don’t want to be beak-fed or fed with infant’s pap.

Georges Duplain: May I ask you to repeat the principal points of your system which may assist man to discover his totality and allay his spiritual famine, when he no longer adheres to the words of Christianity?

Carl Jung: In the first place, I have no system, no doctrine, nothing of that kind. I am an empiricist, with no metaphysical views at all.

I have only hypotheses.

From them I have gained some basic principles.

There is the self, which is the totality of one’s being, known and unknown, conscious and unconscious, as op- posed to the distinction between physical and psychic.

Then there are the archetypes, those images of instinct.

For instinct is not just an outward thrust, it also takes part in the representation of forms. The animal, for example, has a certain idea of the plant, since he recognizes it.

Our instincts do not express themselves only in our actions and reactions, but also in the way we formulate what we imagine.

Instinct is not only biological, it is also, you might say, spiritual.

And it always repeats certain forms which can be studied down the ages among all peoples. These are the archetypes.
The crossing of a river, now, that is an archetypal situation. It’s an important moment, a risk.
There is danger in the water, on the banks.

Not for nothing did Christianity invent great St. Christopher, the giant who carried the infant Jesus through the water.

Today men don’t have that experience very often, or others of that sort either.

I remember river crossings in Africa with crocodiles, and unknown tribes on the other side; one feels that one’s destiny —human destiny, almost—is at stake.

Every man has his own way of approaching the crossing, you see.

And think of King Albrecht’s death near Wettingen, too:the knights were hesitant, not very determined, one can’t be at all sure
that they would have attacked the king just anywhere.

But they surprised him in the middle of the ford, in the place where fate strikes—and jumped at the chance.

There is also the collective unconscious, that immense treasury, that great reservoir, whence mankind draws the images, the forces, which it translates into very different languages, but whose common source is being found out more clearly all the time.

So many coincidences come from there. Carl Jung, C.G. Jung Speaking: Interviews and Encounters, Pages 410- 423


Tuesday, March 14, 2017

Carl Jung: A Talk With Students at the Institute




Introduction: During May 1958, Jung came and talked with students at the C. G. Jung Institute of Zurich. Notes were taken by one of them, Marian Bayes, and published only twelve years later, in Spring, 1970.

Mrs. Bayes’s transcript has been edited to eliminate brackets around some phrases, supplied by the transcriber for tentative readings.

Question: What is man to do with his passionate, primitive, chthonic nature?

Dr. Jung: We tend to identify our chthonic nature with evil and our spiritual nature with good. We must accept the dark forces and stop projecting them.

Question: What is acceptance?

Dr. Jung: Some things cannot be accepted.

If the analysis is honest it will come to an impossible problem—a problem that has no issue.

A lot of instinctive nature is repressed, and it wells up.

And now what? Nobody can deal with it; nobody knows what to do. Go to bed.

Think of your problem.

See what you dream.

Perhaps the Great Man, the 2,000,000-year-old man, will speak. In a cul-de-sac, then only do you hear his voice.
The urge to become what one is is invincibly strong, and you can always count on it, but that does not mean that things will necessarily turn out positively.

If you are not interested in your own fate, the unconscious is. There is a mountain of symbolism.

It is not designed to prove a theory, as people think.

I have amassed symbols in order to give the analyst a chance to know about symbolism so that he can inter- pret dreams.

As if we know nature!

Or about the psyche!

The 2,000,000-year-old man may know something. I have no trouble talking to primitives.

When I talk of the Great Man, or the equivalent, they understand. The Great Man is something that reacts.

The analyst needs knowledge in order to interpret what the unconscious says, and he must give credit to his own interpretation.

He must have courage, he must help; it is as if a man is bleeding to death, and you ponder!

You can only say, "My God, I don’t know, but if it is an error, the unconscious will correct it. It seems to me it is like this."—And stand for it! It must be the best you can do.

No cheating, no flippancy or routine; then the devil is after you. You must be honest about whether it is really the best you can do.
If it is the best before God that you can do, then you can count on things going the right way. But it may be the wrong way.

We go through difficult things; that is fate. Man goes through analysis so that he can die.

I have analyzed to the end with the end in sight—to accompany the individual in order that he may die. The analyst must help life as long as he can.
There is a prejudice that analysis is the art of letting out the unconscious, like opening the cages in a zoo. That is part of analysis, but it must not be done in an irresponsible and foolish way.

This is only the preparatory part.

The main analysis is what to do with the things that have emerged from the unconscious. One must see what the underlying trend is—what the will of God is.

You are damned if you don’t follow it. It will ruin your life, your health.

You have sold part of your soul, or have lost it. To the primitives it is death to lose the soul.

Analysis is a long discussion with the Great Man—an unintelligent attempt to understand him. Nevertheless, it is an attempt, as both patient and analyst understand it.

(The Naskapi’ would have a great advantage, because he would realize that it is a discussion with the Great Man.)

Work until the patient can see this.

It, the Great Man, can at one stroke put an entirely different face on the thing—or anything can happen.

In that way you learn about the peculiar intelligence of the background; you learn the nature of the Great Man.

You learn about yourself against the Great Man—against his postulates.

This is the way through things, things that look desperate and unanswerable. The point is, how are you yourself going to answer this?
There one is alone, as one should be, with the highest ethical distinctions. Ethics is not convention; ethics is between myself and the Great Man.
During this process, you learn about ethics versus morality.’

The unconscious gives you that peculiar twist that makes the way possible.

The way is ineffable.

One cannot, one must not, betray it. It is like the way of Zen—like a sharp knife, and also twisting like a ser- pent.

One needs faith, courage, and no end of honesty and patience.

Question: Does the cycle of this dialogue continue permanently, or has man a special role in it?

Dr. Jung: That is what you learn: what your role is, where you are in the divine economy, in the order of things you see yourself in a new light because you have added the information of the unconscious.

You have added things you didn’t dream of—a new aspect of yourself and of the world. This you cannot regulate, or it would be misused.

To clarify your mind you draw a mandala, and it is legitimate. Another says, "Oh, that’s how to do it!" and draws a mandala. And that is a mistake; that is cheating, because he is copying. Never say no or yes on principle.

Say it only when you feel it is really yes. If it is really no, it is no. If you say yes for any outer reason, you are sunk.
Question: What is the result of an attitude of free decision?

Dr. Jung: The result is that you are always in the game; you are included, you are taken for real.

If you are dishonest, you are excluded from the individuation process.
If you are dishonest, you are nothing for your unconscious.

The Great Man will spit on you, and you will be left far behind in your muddle—stuck, stupid, and idiotic.

If you follow the unconscious closely, your intelligence will not sink below a certain level, and you will add a good deal of intelligence to what you already possess.

If you take the unconscious intellectually, you are lost. It is not a conviction, not an assumption.

It is a Presence.

It is a fact. It is there.

It happens.

Question: How can we know it?

Dr. Jung: By a certain amount of self-criticism,

When you have an idea, you have not thought about that thing. It came to you.

When you realize this, then you are honest.

A certain amount of modesty is absolutely necessary.

You have got to accept what the unconscious produces, and you have to understand its language.

It is Nature, and it has to be translated into human forms.

That is the reason for the dignity of man, that he has the ability to do this. There is no reflection in creation.

To reflect is man’s task, and he can do it when he is not sterilized. When he puts himself above it, he is sterile.

The attitude is incommensurable with science.

What scientist will observe and say that what he observes does not exist? When you observe, then you are scientific.

People don’t know whether a thought is theirs or whether they unhooked it in another house. The naivete of the white man—that he identifies the ego with the Great Man!

Question: Is not the human bond a central vital link in analysis?

Dr. Jung: The thing you are is so much stronger than your feeble words.

The patient is permeated by what you are—by your real being—and pays little attention to what you say. The analyst has unsolved problems because he is alive—life is a problem daily.

Otherwise he is dead.

In the shortest time each puts his foot into it.

If you take your mistake the right way, it is the way of analysis.

The analyst must know about his complexes, because they will be touched during the work with the patient. When I dream of a patient, it is usually a sign that one of my complexes has been touched.

Each step ahead that the patient makes can be a step for the analyst.

You cannot be with someone without being permeated by that personality, but the chances are you do not notice it; a certain feeling-atmosphere will take hold of you.

If you are not a feeling type you may have to ask a feeling type about your own "weather" because you are unconscious of your own feelings.

Doesn’t stress on the transference obviate . . . ?

One of the greatest hindrances to understanding is the projection of the shaman—the savior. As soon as you are elevated to such a rank, you are powerless, lost in a sea of mist.

When signs of this inflation appear, this is a serious warning, and the inflation must be discouraged as soon as possible.

You are just as unable to perform miracles as a shaman as a rule is.

The father complex is at the bottom of it, and when this is analyzed, it is reduced to human size. But there is still the human being.
The father transference, the Christ transference, etc., each is a mistake, a deviation, produced by the patient’s perplexity.

If the patient were a Naskapi, he would say that the transference is his Great Man. The analytic conversation is between two Great Men.
(The Naskapi would have a great advantage because he would understand this.) Work until the patient can see that.

That is the point of the transference.

It is vital to the patient to find out about this, and the analyst must be able to answer these questions. He can only say, "I am this," when he knows what this is.
The patient may come to the end of his perplexity and still have a transference. Awkward.

Then it is something else—the archetypes are in play; that is the Great Man, or whatever he calls it.

At bottom, the transference is by no means a personal fantasy.

You lose an enormous value when you reduce it to the personal, and you must teach the patient about this double possibility: that there is the personal and there is something more in the personality, namely the Great Man. Carl Jung, C.G. Jung Speaking: Interviews and Encounters, Pages 359-364

Carl Jung and The Stephen Black Interviews




Introduction: Stephen Black interviewed Jung in July 1955, in order to record material for broadcast in connection with Jung’s Both birthday, 26 July.

Besides a radio interview (no. 3, below), Black conducted an interview for the BBC television feature "Panorama," of which a segment of about six minutes (no. 2, below) was broadcast.

The conversation took place on the terrace of Jung’s house at Kusnacht; the sounds of a motorboat on the lake and music at the beach resort next door are sometimes audible.

Emma Jung sat beside her husband—one sees her in the film—but did not take part in the interview. Subsequently, Stephen Black left broadcasting, became a physician, and emigrated to New Zealand.

Stephen Black: Professor Jung, could you tell me how it came about that psychological medicine came to be divided so sharply in the first half of this century into Freudian and Adlerian and Jungian philosophies?

Dr. Jung: Well, that is so.

Always in the beginning of a new science, or when a new problem is tackled in science, there are necessarily many different aspects, particularly in a science like psychology, and particularly so when an absolutely new factor has been brought into the discussion.

Stephen Black: Which was that?

Dr. Jung: In this case, it was the unconscious—the concept of the unconscious.

It has been a philosophical concept before—in the philosophy of Carl Gustav Carus and then his follower Eduard von Hartmann.

But it was a mere speculative concept.

The unconscious was a kind of philosophical concept at first, but through the discoveries by Freud it became a practical medical concept, because he discovered these mechanisms

or connections. . . . He made of it a medical science. This is empirical.
An empirical medical science.

That was an entirely new proposition.

And naturally quite a number of opinions are possible in the beginning, where one is insufficiently acquainted with the phenomena.

It needed many experiments and experiences until one could establish a general terminology, for instance, or even a doctrine.

Now, I never got as far as to produce a general doctrine, because I always felt we don’t know enough.

But Freud started the theory very early and so did Adler, because that can be explained by the human need for certainty.

You feel completely lost in such an enormous field as psychology represents.

And there you must have something to cling to, some guidance as it were, and that is probably the reason why this kind of psychology set out with almost ready-made theories.

At least, the theories were conceived in a moment when one didn’t know enough about the role of the psychology of the unconscious.
That is my private view, and so I’ve refrained from forming theories. Stephen Black: When you first met Freud—when was that, 1906?

Dr. Jung: That was 1907.

Stephen Black: Will you describe that meeting to me?

Dr. Jung: Oh, well, I just made a visit to him in Vienna and then we talked for thirteen hours without interruption.

Dr. Black: Thirteen hours without interruption? Dr. Jung: Thirteen hours without interruption!

We didn’t realize that we were almost dead at the end of it, but it was tremendously interesting. Stephen Black: Did you argue?
Carl Jung: Yes, I did, to a certain extent.

Of course, seeing him for the first time I had to get my bearings first. I had naturally also to listen to what he had to say.

And I was then a very young man still, and he was the old man and had great experience and he was of course way ahead of me and so I settled down to learn something first.

Stephen Black: And then in 1912 you published "The Psychology of the Unconscious."

Dr. Jung: Well, by 1912 I had acquired a lot of my own experience and I had learned a great deal from Freud and then I saw certain things in a different light.

Stephen Black: So you dissociated yourself from Freud.

Dr. Jung: Yes, because I couldn’t share his opinions of his convictions anymore with reference to certain things.

I mean in certain points I have no argument against him, but in other respects I disagree with him.
Stephen Black: What was it you disagreed most over at that time?

Dr. Jung: Well, that was chiefly the interpretation of psychological facts.

You know, he was on the standpoint of scientific materialism, which I consider as a prejudice, a sort of meta- physical presupposition, which I exclude.

Stephen Black: What in your view will be the final outcome of this kind of scientific quarrel between the vari- ous schools of medical psychology?

Dr. Jung: For the time being it is certainly a sort of quarrel, but in the course of time it will be as it always has been in the history of science.

You will see that certain points will be taken from Freud’s ideas, others from Adler’s ideas, and something of

my ideas.

There is no question of victory of one idea, of one way of looking at things.

Such victories are only obtained where it is a matter of pretension, of convictions, for instance, philosophical or religious convictions.

In science there is nothing of the kind, there is merely the truth as one can see it.

Stephen Black: Thank you. Professor Jung, there’s a body of opinion in the world today that all is not well with the technique of psychoanalysis, that it takes too long, it uses up too many medical man-hours, it costs too much money.

Have you felt that about your technique of analytical psychology?

Dr. Jung: That is perfectly true. It takes time, it costs money, it takes the right people and there are too few. But that is foreseen.
That is in the nature of the thing.

Man’s soul is a complicated thing and it takes sometimes half a lifetime to get somewhere in one’s psychological development.

You know it is by no means always a matter of psychotherapy or treatment of neuroses. Psychology has also the aspect of a pedagogical method in the widest sense of the word. It is something-A system of education.
It is an education. It is something like antique philosophy. And not what we understand by a technique.

It is something that touches upon the whole of man and which challenges also the whole of man—in the patient or whatever the receiving party is as well as in the doctor.


Stephen Black: But it’s a therapeutic process also.

Dr. Jung: Yes, you know, this procedure has many stages or levels.

If you take an ordinary case of neurosis, it may only go as far as healing the symptoms or giving the patient such an attitude that he can deal with his neurosis.

Sometimes it takes him a week, sometimes a few days, sometimes it is just one consultation in which I clean up a case. It is of course a question of knowing where, or what—it needs a good deal of experience.

But other cases take very long, and you couldn’t send them away because they wouldn’t go.

They want to know more, to make the whole process of development, which goes from stage to stage, a widening out of the mental horizon.

You cannot imagine how one-sided people are nowadays.

And so it needs no end of work to get people rounded out, or mentally more developed, more conscious. And they are so keen on it that for nothing in the world would they quit.

And they are not shy of spending money on it.

Stephen Black: Professor Jung, how does this compare with religion, with religious practice? Dr. Jung: I rather would prefer to say, how does it compare with antique philosophy.

You see, our religions are known as confessions. One confesses a certain creed. Now, of course, this has nothing to do with a creed.

It has only to do with the natural individuation process, namely, the process that sets in with birth, as it were.

As each plant, each tree grows from a seed and becomes in the end, say, an oak tree, so man becomes what he is meant to be.

At least, he ought to get there.

But most get stuck by unfavorable external conditions, by all sorts of hindrances or pathological distortions, wrong education—no end of reasons why one shouldn’t get there where one belongs.

Stephen Black: Do more people get stuck today than fifty years ago when you started? Dr. Jung: There are no statistics, and I wouldn’t have an opinion about it.

But I only know that there is an uncanny amount of people that get stuck unnecessarily.

They could get much further if they had heard the proper things or if they had spent the necessary time on themselves.

But this is not popular, you know, to spend time on oneself, because our point of view is entirely extraverted.

Stephen Black: One last question. You have defined these personality types of extravert and introvert.

Which are you?

Dr. Jung: Oh well. [Laughs.] Everybody would call me an introvert. Stephen Black: You’re an introvert. And what was Freud?

Dr. Jung: Now, that is a very difficult question.

You know, Freud is—and he doesn’t conceal it—he’s a neurotic type. And there it is very difficult to make out what the real type is.
For a long time you have to observe which mental contents are conscious and which are unconscious. And then only you can say this must be the original type.

I will say Freud’s point of view is an extraverted point of view. But as to his personal type I wouldn’t speculate.

Stephen Black: And Adler?

Dr. Jung: He is equally introverted.

Stephen Black: He extended your definition of the complex to the inferiority complex. What are your views on this all important inferiority complex?

Dr. Jung: Well, that is a thing that surely plays a very great role, almost just as great as the sex complex.

You see, the sex complex belongs to a hedonistic type of man who thinks in terms of his pleasure and displea- sure, while there is another class of man, chiefly the man who has not arrived, who thinks in terms of power and defeat, and to him it is far more important to win out somewhere than his whole sex problem.

Stephen Black: What should we think in terms of, in your view?

Dr. Jung: Obviously, life has the two aspects, namely, self-preservation and the preservation of species. There you have the two things.
Nobody in his senses dismisses the one or the other thing.

We always have both aspects, because we are meant to be balanced.

Introduction: During his visit to Kiisnacht, Stephen Black also conducted an interview for BBC radio.

According to the BBC transcript, it was recorded on July 29, 1955, and broadcast as part of a series, "Personal Call," on October
3. The text was printed as an appendix to E. A. Bennet’s book C. G. Jung (London, 1961), and Dr. Bennet dated it July
24. He had been given the
copyright in the transcript by the BBC and kindly permitted its publication here.

Stephen Black: "Vocatus atque non vocatus deus aderit" is a Latin translation of the Greek oracle, and, translated into English, it might read, "Invoked or not invoked the god will be present," and in many ways this expresses the philosophy of Carl Jung.

I am sitting now in a room in his house at Kusnacht, near Zurich, in Switzerland.

And as I came in through the front door, I read this Latin translation of the Greek, carved in stone over the door.

For this house was built by Professor Jung. How many years ago, Professor Jung?

Dr. Jung: Oh, almost fifty years ago.

Stephen Black: Why did you choose to put this over your front door?

Dr. Jung: Because I wanted to express the fact that I always feel unsafe, as if I’m in the presence of superior possibilities.

Stephen Black: Professor Jung is sitting opposite to me now.

He is a large man, a tall man, and this summer reached his eightieth birthday.

He has white hair, a very powerful face, with a small white mustache and deep brown eyes. He reminds me, with all respect, Professor Jung, of a typical peasant of Switzerland.

What do you feel about that, Professor Jung?

Dr. Jung: Well, I think you are not just beside the mark. That is what I often have been called.

Stephen Black: And yet Professor Jung is a man whose reputation far transcends the frontiers of this little country.

It’s a reputation which isn’t only European; it is world-wide and has made itself felt considerably in the Far East.

Professor Jung, how did you, as a doctor, become interested in psychological medicine?

Dr. Jung: Well, when I was a student of medicine I already then became interested in the psychological aspect—chiefly of mental diseases.

I studied, besides my medical work, also philosophy—chiefly Kant, Schopenhauer and others.

I found it very difficult in those days of scientific materialism to find a middle line between natural science or medicine and my philosophical interests.

And in the last of my medical studies, just before my final exam, I discovered the short introduction that Krafft-Ebing had written to his textbook of psychiatry, and suddenly I understood the connection between psychology or philosophy and medical science.

Stephen Black: This was due to Krafft-Ebing’s introduction to his textbook? Carl Jung: Yes; and it caused me tremendous emotion then.
I was quite overwhelmed by a sudden sort of intuitive understanding.

I wouldn’t have been able to formulate it clearly then, but I felt I had touched a focus.

And then on the spot I made up my mind to become a psychiatrist, because there was a chance to unite my philosophical interests with natural science and medical science; that was my chief interest from then on.

Stephen Black: Would you say that your sudden intuitive interest in something like that, your intuitive under- standing, had to some extent been explained by your work during all the years since?

Dr. Jung: Oh, yes; absolutely.

But, as you know, such an intuitive moment contains the whole thing in nucleo.

It is not clearly formulated; it’s an indescribable totality; but this moment had been the real origin of my career as a medical psychological scientist.

Stephen Black: So it was in fact Krafft-Ebing and not Freud that started you oft. Dr. Jung: Oh, yes, I became acquainted with Freud much later on.
Stephen Black: And when did you meet Freud? Dr. Jung: That was only in 1907.

I had some correspondence with him before that date, but I met him only in 1907 after I had written my book on The Psychology of Dementia Praecox.’

Stephen Black: That was your first book? Dr. Jung: That wasn’t really my first book.

The book on dementia praecox came after my doctor’s thesis in 1904.

And then my subsequent studies on the association experiment’ paved the way to Freud, because I saw that the behavior of the complex provided the experimental basis for Freud’s ideas on repression.

And that was the reason and the possibility of our relationship. Stephen Black: Would you like to describe to me that meeting?

Dr. Jung: Well, I went to Vienna and paid a visit to him, and our first meeting lasted thirteen hours. Stephen Black: Thirteen hours?
For thirteen uninterrupted hours we talked and talked and talked.

It was a tour d’horizon, in which I tried to make out Freud’s peculiar mentality.

He was a pretty strange phenomenon to me then, as he was to everybody in those days, and then I saw very clearly what his point of view was, and I also caught some glimpses already where I wouldn’t join in.

Stephen Black: In what way was Freud a peculiar personality? Dr. Jung: Well, that’s difficult to say, you know.

He was a very impressive man and obviously a genius.

Yet you must know the peculiar atmosphere of Vienna in those days: it was the last days of the old Empire, and Vienna was always spiritually and in every way a place of a very specific character.

And particularly the Jewish intelligentsia was an impressive and peculiar phenomenon—particularly to us Swiss, you know.

We were, of course, very different and it took me quite a while until I got it.

Stephen Black: Would you say, then, that the ideas and the philosophy which you have expressed have in their root something peculiarly Swiss?

Dr. Jung: Presumably.

You know, our political neutrality has much to do with it.

We were always surrounded by the great powers—those four powers, Germany, Austria, Italy, and France— and we had to defend our independence, so the Swiss is characterized by that peculiar spirit of independence, and he always reserves his judgment.

He doesn’t easily imitate, and so he doesn’t take things for granted. Stephen Black: You are a man, Professor Jung, who reserves his judgment? Dr. Jung: Always.
Stephen Black: In 1912 you wrote a book called Psychology of the Unconscious,’ and it was at that time that you, as it were, dissociated yourself from Freud?

Dr. Jung: Well, that came about quite automatically because I developed certain ideas in that book which I knew Freud couldn’t approve.

Knowing his scientific materialism I knew that this was the sort of philosophy I couldn’t subscribe to. Stephen Black: Yours was the introvert, to use your own terminology?

Dr. Jung: No. Mine was merely the empirical point of view.

I didn’t pretend to know anything, I wanted just to make the experience of the world to see what things are. Stephen Black: Would you accuse Freud of having become involved in the mysticism of terms?

Dr. Jung: No; I wouldn’t accuse him; it was just a style of the time.

Thought, in a way, about psychological things was just, as it seems to me, impossible—too simple. In those days one talked of psychiatric illness as a sort of by-product of the brain.

Joking with my pupils, I told them of an old textbook for the Medical Corps in the Swiss Army which gave a description of the brain, saying it looked like a dish of macaroni, and the steam from the macaroni was the psyche.

That is the old view, and it is far too simple.

So I said: "Psychology is the science of psychic phenomena."

We can observe whether these phenomena are produced by the brain, or whether they are there in their own right—they are just what they are.

I have no theory about the origin of the psyche.

I take phenomena as they are and I try to describe them and to classify them, and my terminology is an em- pirical terminology, like the terminology in botany or zoology.

Stephen Black: You’ve travelled a great deal? Dr. Jung: Yes; a lot.

I have been with Navaho Indians in North America, and in North Africa, in East and Central Africa, the Sudan and Egypt, and in India.

Stephen Black: Do you feel that the thought of the East is in any way more advanced than the thought in the West?

Dr. Jung: Well, you see, the thought of the East cannot be compared with the thought in the West; it is in- commensurable.

It is something else.

Stephen Black: In what way does it differ, then?

Dr. Jung: Well, they are far more influenced by the basic facts about psychology than we are. Stephen Black: That sounds more like your philosophy.
Dr. Jung: Oh, yes; quite.

That is my particular understanding of the East, and the East can appreciate my ideas better, because they are better prepared to see the truth of the psyche.

Some think there is nothing in the mind when the child is born, but I say everything is in the mind when the child is born, only it isn’t conscious yet.

It is there as a potentiality.

Now, the East is chiefly based upon that potentiality.

Stephen Black: Does this contribute to the happiness of people one way or the other? Are people happier in themselves in the East?

Dr. Jung: I don’t think that they are happier than we are.

You see, they have no end of problems, of diseases and conflicts; that is the human lot.

Stephen Black: Is their unhappiness based upon their psychological difficulties, like ours, or it is more based upon their physical environment, their economics?

Dr. Jung: Well, you see, there is no difference between, say, unfavorable social conditions and unfavorable psychological conditions.

We may be, in the West, in very favorable social conditions, and we are as miserable as possible—inside. We have the trouble from the inside.
They have it perhaps more from the outside.

Stephen Black: And have you any views on the reason for this misery we suffer here? Dr. Jung: Oh, yes; there are plenty of reasons.
Wrong values—we believe in things which are not really worthwhile.

For instance, when a man has only one automobile and his neighbor has two, then that is a very sad fact and he is apt to get neurotic about it.

Stephen Black: In what other ways are our values at fault?

Well, all ambitions and all sorts of things—illusions, you know, of any description. It is impossible to name all those things.

Stephen Black: What is your view, Professor Jung, on the place of women in society in the Western world? Dr. Jung: In what way ? The question is a bit vague.

Stephen Black: You said just now, Professor Jung, that some of our difficulties arose out of wrong values, and I’m trying to find out whether you feel those wrong values arise in men as a result of the demands of women.

Dr. Jung: Sometimes, of course, they do, but very often it is the female in a man that is misleading him.

The anima in man, his feminine side, of which he is truly unaware, is causing his moods, his resentments, his prejudices.

Stephen Black: So that the woman who wants two cars because a neighbor has two cars, is only stimulating ...?

Dr. Jung: No, perhaps she simply voices what he has felt for a long time.

He wouldn’t dare to express it, but she voices it—she is, perhaps, naïve enough to say so. Stephen Black: And what does the man express of the woman’s animus?
Dr. Jung: Well, he is definitely against it, because the animus always gets his goat, it calls forth his anima affects and anima moods; they get on each other’s nerves.

Listen to a conversation between a man and wife when there is a certain amount of emotion about them.

You hear all the wonderful arguments of an anima in the man; he talks then like a woman, and she talks like a man, with very definite opinions and knows all about it.

Stephen Black: Do you feel that there’s any hope of adjusting this between a man and a woman, if they understand it in your terms?

Dr. Jung: Well, you see, that is one of the main reasons why I have developed a certain psychology of relationship—for instance, the relationship in marriage, and how a man and his wife should understand each other or how they misunderstand each other practically. That’s a whole chapter of psychology and not an unimportant one.
Stephen Black: Which is the basic behavior? The Eastern? Dr. Jung: Neither.

The East is just as one-sided in its way as the West is in its way.

I wouldn’t say that the position of the woman in the East is more natural or better than with us.

Civilizations have developed styles. For instance, a Frenchman or an Italian or an Englishman show very different and very characteristic ways in dealing with their respective
wives.

I suppose you have seen English marriages, and you know how an English gentleman would deal with his wife in the event of trouble, for instance; and if you compare this with an Italian, you will see all the difference in the world.

You know, Italy cultivates its emotions.

Italians like emotions and they dramatize their emotions. Not so the English.

Stephen Black: And in India or Malaya?

Dr. Jung: In India, presumably the same; I had no chance to assist in a domestic problem in India, happily

enough.

It was a holiday from Europe, where I had had almost too much to do with domestic problems of my patients—that sort of thing was my daily bread.

Dr. Jung: Would you say, then, as a scientific observation that there is, in fact, less domestic trouble in the East than in the West?

Dr. Jung: I couldn’t say that.

There is another kind of domestic problem, you know.

They live in crowds together in one house, twenty-five people in one little house, and the grandmother on top of the show, which is a terrific problem.

Happily enough, we have no such things over here.

Stephen Black: At the end of his life, Freud, one feels, had some dissatisfaction with the nature of psychoanalysis, the length of time involved in the treatment of mental illness and so on.

Have you, now you’re eighty years old, felt any dissatisfaction with your work? Dr. Jung: No; I couldn’t say so.

I know I’m not dissatisfied at all, but I have no illusions about the difficulty of human nature. You see, Freud was always a bit impatient; he always hoped to find some short-cut.

And I knew that is just the thing we would not find, because anything that is good is expensive. It takes time, it requires your patience and no end of it.

I can’t say I am dissatisfied.

And so I always thought anything, if it is something good, will take time, will demand all your patience, it will be expensive.

You can’t get around it.

Stephen Black: How did you meet your wife? Is she connected with your work?

Dr. Jung: Well, I met her when she was quite a young girl, about fifteen or sixteen, and I just happened to see her, and I said to a friend of mine—I was twenty-one then—I said, "That girl is my wife."

Stephen Black: Before you’d spoken to her?

Dr. Jung: Yes. "That’s my wife." I knew it. I saw her on top of a staircase, and I knew: "That is my wife." Stephen Black: How many children have you got?

Dr. Jung: Five children, nineteen grandchildren, and two greatgrandchildren.

Stephen Black: Has any of this large family followed in your footsteps?
Dr. Jung: Well, My son is an architect and an uncle of mine was an architect.

None has studied medicine—all my daughters married—but they are very interested and they "got it" at home, you see, through the atmosphere.

One nephew is a doctor.

Stephen Black: Were you interested in architecture at all?

Dr. Jung: Oh, yes; very much so. I have built with my own hands; I learned the work of a mason. I went to a quarry to learn how to split stones—big rocks.
Stephen Black: And actually laying bricks, laying the stones? Dr. Jung: Oh, well, in Europe we work with stone.

I did actually lay stones and built part of my house up in Bollingen. Stephen Black: Why did you do that?

Dr. Jung: I wanted to handle and get the feeling of the stone and to touch the earth—I worked a lot in the garden, I have chopped wood, felled trees, and all that. I liked sailing and rowing and mountain climbing when I was young.

Stephen Black: Could you explain what you think are the origins of this desire to touch the earth? We in England have it very much; every Englishman has his little garden.

We all love the earth.

Dr. Jung: Of course. Well, you know, that is—how can we explain it?—you love the earth and the earth loves you.

And therefore the earth brings forth.

That is so even with the peasant who wants to make his field fertile, and in the night of the full moon he sleeps with his wife in the furrow.

Stephen Black: Professor Jung, what do you think will be the effect upon the world of living, as we have been living, and may still have to live, under the threat of the hydrogen bomb?

Dr. Jung: Well, that’s a very great problem.

I think the West is more affected by it than the East, because the East has a very different attitude to death

and destruction.

Think, for instance, of the fact that practically the whole of India believes in reincarnation, so when you lose this life you have plenty of others.

It doesn’t matter so much.

Moreover, this world is illusion anyhow, and if you can get rid of it, it isn’t so bad. And if you hope for a further life, well, you have untold possibilities ahead of you.

Since in the West there is one life only, therefore I can imagine that the West is more disturbed by the possibility of utter destruction than the East.

We have only one life to lose and we are by no means assured of a number of other lives to follow.

The greater part of the European population doesn’t even believe in immortality anymore and so, once destroyed, forever destroyed.

That explains a great deal of the reaction in the West.

We are more vulnerable because of our lack of knowledge and contact with the deepest strata of the psyche.

But the East is better defended in that way, because it is based upon the fundamental facts of the human soul and believes more in it and in its possibilities than the West.

And that is a point of uncertainty in the West.

It is a very critical point. Carl Jung, C.G. Jung Speaking: Interviews and Encounters, Pages 252-267.

Carl Jung on his interest in Architecture




Stephen Black: Were you interested in architecture at all?

Dr. Jung: Oh, yes; very much so. I have built with my own hands; I learned the work of a mason.

I went to a quarry to learn how to split stones—big rocks.

Stephen Black: And actually laying bricks, laying the stones? Dr. Jung: Oh, well, in Europe we work with stone.

I did actually lay stones and built part of my house up in Bollingen. Stephen Black: Why did you do that?

Dr. Jung: I wanted to handle and get the feeling of the stone and to touch the earth—I worked a lot in the garden, I have chopped wood, felled trees, and all that. I liked sailing and rowing and mountain climbing when I was young.

Stephen Black: Could you explain what you think are the origins of this desire to touch the earth? We in England have it very much; every Englishman has his little garden.

We all love the earth.

Dr. Jung: Of course. Well, you know, that is—how can we explain it?—you love the earth and the earth loves you.

And therefore the earth brings forth.

That is so even with the peasant who wants to make his field fertile, and in the night of the full moon he sleeps with his wife in the furrow.

Carl Jung, C.G. Jung Speaking: Interviews and Encounters, Pages 252-267.

Carl Jung on living under the threat of the Hydrogen Bomb




Stephen Black: Professor Jung, what do you think will be the effect upon the world of living, as we have been living, and may still have to live, under the threat of the hydrogen bomb?

Dr. Jung: Well, that’s a very great problem.

I think the West is more affected by it than the East, because the East has a very different attitude to death and destruction.

Think, for instance, of the fact that practically the whole of India believes in reincarnation, so when you lose this life you have plenty of others.

It doesn’t matter so much.

Moreover, this world is illusion anyhow, and if you can get rid of it, it isn’t so bad. And if you hope for a further life, well, you have untold possibilities ahead of you.

Since in the West there is one life only, therefore I can imagine that the West is more disturbed by the possibility of utter destruction than the East.

We have only one life to lose and we are by no means assured of a number of other lives to follow.

The greater part of the European population doesn’t even believe in immortality anymore and so, once destroyed, forever destroyed.

That explains a great deal of the reaction in the West.

We are more vulnerable because of our lack of knowledge and contact with the deepest strata of the psyche.

But the East is better defended in that way, because it is based upon the fundamental facts of the human soul and believes more in it and in its possibilities than the West.

And that is a point of uncertainty in the West.

It is a very critical point. Carl Jung, C.G. Jung Speaking: Interviews and Encounters, Pages 252-267.

Carl Jung on if: “thought of the East is in any way more advanced than the thought in the West?”




Stephen Black: Do you feel that the thought of the East is in any way more advanced than the thought in the West?

Dr. Jung: Well, you see, the thought of the East cannot be compared with the thought in the West; it is incommensurable.

It is something else.

Stephen Black: In what way does it differ, then?

Dr. Jung: Well, they are far more influenced by the basic facts about psychology than we are.

Stephen Black: That sounds more like your philosophy. Dr. Jung: Oh, yes; quite.

That is my particular understanding of the East, and the East can appreciate my ideas better, because they are better prepared to see the truth of the psyche.

Some think there is nothing in the mind when the child is born, but I say everything is in the mind when the child is born, only it isn’t conscious yet.

It is there as a potentiality.

Now, the East is chiefly based upon that potentiality.

Stephen Black: Does this contribute to the happiness of people one way or the other? Are people happier in themselves in the East?

Dr. Jung: I don’t think that they are happier than we are.

You see, they have no end of problems, of diseases and conflicts; that is the human lot.

Stephen Black: Is their unhappiness based upon their psychological difficulties, like ours, or it is more based upon their physical environment, their economics?

Dr. Jung: Well, you see, there is no difference between, say, unfavorable social conditions and unfavorable psychological conditions.

We may be, in the West, in very favorable social conditions, and we are as miserable as possible—inside.

We have the trouble from the inside.

They have it perhaps more from the outside.

Stephen Black: And have you any views on the reason for this misery we suffer here? Dr. Jung: Oh, yes; there are plenty of reasons.

Wrong values—we believe in things which are not really worthwhile.

For instance, when a man has only one automobile and his neighbor has two, then that is a very sad fact and he is apt to get neurotic about it.

Stephen Black: In what other ways are our values at fault?

Well, all ambitions and all sorts of things—illusions, you know, of any description.

It is impossible to name all those things. Carl Jung, C.G. Jung Speaking: Interviews and Encounters, Pages 252-267.

Carl Jung: A Talk With Students at the Institute




Introduction: During May 1958, Jung came and talked with students at the C. G. Jung Institute of Zurich. Notes were taken by one of them, Marian Bayes, and published only twelve years later, in Spring, 1970.

Mrs. Bayes’s transcript has been edited to eliminate brackets around some phrases, supplied by the transcriber for tentative readings.

Question: What is man to do with his passionate, primitive, chthonic nature?

Dr. Jung: We tend to identify our chthonic nature with evil and our spiritual nature with good. We must accept the dark forces and stop projecting them.

Question: What is acceptance?

Dr. Jung: Some things cannot be accepted.

If the analysis is honest it will come to an impossible problem—a problem that has no issue.

A lot of instinctive nature is repressed, and it wells up.

And now what? Nobody can deal with it; nobody knows what to do. Go to bed.

Think of your problem.

See what you dream.

Perhaps the Great Man, the 2,000,000-year-old man, will speak. In a cul-de-sac, then only do you hear his voice.

The urge to become what one is is invincibly strong, and you can always count on it, but that does not mean that things will necessarily turn out positively.

If you are not interested in your own fate, the unconscious is. There is a mountain of symbolism.

It is not designed to prove a theory, as people think.

I have amassed symbols in order to give the analyst a chance to know about symbolism so that he can interpret dreams.

As if we know nature!

Or about the psyche!

The 2,000,000-year-old man may know something.

I have no trouble talking to primitives.

When I talk of the Great Man, or the equivalent, they understand. The Great Man is something that reacts.

The analyst needs knowledge in order to interpret what the unconscious says, and he must give credit to his own interpretation.

He must have courage, he must help; it is as if a man is bleeding to death, and you ponder!

You can only say, "My God, I don’t know, but if it is an error, the unconscious will correct it.

It seems to me it is like this."—And stand for it! It must be the best you can do.

No cheating, no flippancy or routine; then the devil is after you. You must be honest about whether it is really the best you can do.

If it is the best before God that you can do, then you can count on things going the right way. But it may be the wrong way.

We go through difficult things; that is fate. Man goes through analysis so that he can die.

I have analyzed to the end with the end in sight—to accompany the individual in order that he may die. The analyst must help life as long as he can.
There is a prejudice that analysis is the art of letting out the unconscious, like opening the cages in a zoo. That is part of analysis, but it must not be done in an irresponsible and foolish way.

This is only the preparatory part.

The main analysis is what to do with the things that have emerged from the unconscious. One must see what the underlying trend is—what the will of God is.

You are damned if you don’t follow it. It will ruin your life, your health.

You have sold part of your soul, or have lost it. To the primitives it is death to lose the soul.

Analysis is a long discussion with the Great Man—an unintelligent attempt to understand him.

Nevertheless, it is an attempt, as both patient and analyst understand it.

(The Naskapi’ would have a great advantage, because he would realize that it is a discussion with the Great Man.)

Work until the patient can see this.

It, the Great Man, can at one stroke put an entirely different face on the thing—or anything can happen.

In that way you learn about the peculiar intelligence of the background; you learn the nature of the Great Man.

You learn about yourself against the Great Man—against his postulates.

This is the way through things, things that look desperate and unanswerable. The point is, how are you yourself going to answer this?

There one is alone, as one should be, with the highest ethical distinctions. Ethics is not convention; ethics is between myself and the Great Man.

During this process, you learn about ethics versus morality.’

The unconscious gives you that peculiar twist that makes the way possible. The way is ineffable.

One cannot, one must not, betray it. It is like the way of Zen—like a sharp knife, and also twisting like a serpent.

One needs faith, courage, and no end of honesty and patience.

Question: Does the cycle of this dialogue continue permanently, or has man a special role in it?

Dr. Jung: That is what you learn: what your role is, where you are in the divine economy, in the order of things you see yourself in a new light because you have added the information
of the unconscious.

You have added things you didn’t dream of—a new aspect of yourself and of the world. This you cannot regulate, or it would be misused.
To clarify your mind you draw a mandala, and it is legitimate.

Another says, "Oh, that’s how to do it!" and draws a mandala. And that is a mistake; that is cheating, because he is copying.

Never say no or yes on principle.

Say it only when you feel it is really yes. If it is really no, it is no. If you say yes for any outer reason, you are sunk.

Question: What is the result of an attitude of free decision?

Dr. Jung: The result is that you are always in the game; you are included, you are taken for real. If you are dishonest, you are excluded from the individuation process.

If you are dishonest, you are nothing for your unconscious.

The Great Man will spit on you, and you will be left far behind in your muddle—stuck, stupid, and idiotic.

If you follow the unconscious closely, your intelligence will not sink below a certain level, and you will add a good deal of intelligence to what you already possess.

If you take the unconscious intellectually, you are lost. It is not a conviction, not an assumption.

It is a Presence.

It is a fact. It is there.

It happens.

Question: How can we know it?

Dr. Jung: By a certain amount of self-criticism,

When you have an idea, you have not thought about that thing. It came to you.

When you realize this, then you are honest.

A certain amount of modesty is absolutely necessary.

You have got to accept what the unconscious produces, and you have to understand its language.

It is Nature, and it has to be translated into human forms.
That is the reason for the dignity of man, that he has the ability to do this. There is no reflection in creation.


To reflect is man’s task, and he can do it when he is not sterilized.

When he puts himself above it, he is sterile. The attitude is incommensurable with science.

What scientist will observe and say that what he observes does not exist? When you observe, then you are scientific.

People don’t know whether a thought is theirs or whether they unhooked it in another house. The naivete of the white man—that he identifies the ego with the Great Man!
Question: Is not the human bond a central vital link in analysis?

Dr. Jung: The thing you are is so much stronger than your feeble words.

The patient is permeated by what you are—by your real being—and pays little attention to what you say. The analyst has unsolved problems because he is alive—life is a problem daily.

Otherwise he is dead.

In the shortest time each puts his foot into it.

If you take your mistake the right way, it is the way of analysis.

The analyst must know about his complexes, because they will be touched during the work with the patient. When I dream of a patient, it is usually a sign that one of my complexes has been touched.

Each step ahead that the patient makes can be a step for the analyst.

You cannot be with someone without being permeated by that personality, but the chances are you do not notice it; a certain feeling-atmosphere will take hold of you.

If you are not a feeling type you may have to ask a feeling type about your own "weather" because you are unconscious of your own feelings.

Doesn’t stress on the transference obviate . . . ?

One of the greatest hindrances to understanding is the projection of the shaman—the savior. As soon as you are elevated to such a rank, you are powerless, lost in a sea of mist.

When signs of this inflation appear, this is a serious warning, and the inflation must be discouraged as soon as possible.

You are just as unable to perform miracles as a shaman as a rule is.

The father complex is at the bottom of it, and when this is analyzed, it is reduced to human size. But there is still the human being.

The father transference, the Christ transference, etc., each is a mistake, a deviation, produced by the patient’s perplexity.

If the patient were a Naskapi, he would say that the transference is his Great Man. The analytic conversation is between two Great Men.

(The Naskapi would have a great advantage because he would understand this.) Work until the patient can see that.

That is the point of the transference.

It is vital to the patient to find out about this, and the analyst must be able to answer these questions. He can only say, "I am this," when he knows what this is.

The patient may come to the end of his perplexity and still have a transference. Awkward.

Then it is something else—the archetypes are in play; that is the Great Man, or whatever he calls it.

At bottom, the transference is by no means a personal fantasy.

You lose an enormous value when you reduce it to the personal, and you must teach the patient about this double possibility: that there is the personal and there is something more in the personality, namely the Great Man. Carl Jung, C.G. Jung Speaking: Interviews and Encounters, Pages 359-364