Abstract
Anderson’s (2016) article is a welcome contribution to a neglected area in our discipline, about which he neatly captures a paradox: on the one hand, ‘Group analysis as a discourse of knowledge has much to offer how we construct homosexuality within society’ (p. 200), and on the other, ‘Even the basic experiences of being gay in a therapeutic group, or of conducting a group as a gay analyst, have only been described briefly if at all’ (op. cit.). Anderson uses queer theory and Lacanian perspectives in particular to push our thinking forward and ends with some useful pointers as to clinically relevant research questions. My response is in part an applause for his efforts whilst widening the circle of literature on which we might draw.
In 2007 I published Group Analysis and Homosexuality: Indifference or Hostility? In many ways it was social intervention born of anger and disquiet at witnessing quite a degree of rationalized homophobia in the hallowed psychoanalytic circles in which I moved, including the IGA, and so, I suppose was my way of questioning that (former) idealization and offering a challenge to a certain orthodoxy. It was also a painful reckoning with myself who, as a straight therapist, was caught in contractions between the radical, liberal values I held dear and semi-identification with many (and in my view now, deeply problematic) developmental and normative assumptions of the analytic world; that world included not only theories but relationships to supervisors, teachers and admired institutions. In group terms we know that it is difficult to see and reconcile one’s illusions and less ideal realities that complicate our sense of what we stand for. Of course, in a much earlier era, Foulkes was part of that world and shared those kinds of assumptions, as Nitsun (2006) has traced.
In terms of revised positions in the analytic world, it is useful to remind the reader that whereas the American Psychiatric Association declassified ‘homosexuality’ as a disorder in 1973, although psychoanalytic colleagues of that organization fought strenuously against that change, the American Psychoanalytic Association (in response to a lawsuit) finally lifted its discrimination policy in 1991; a year later the association amended its statement to include the ‘upper echelons’ of training analysts and supervisors (Isay, 1991; Newbigin, 2015). In the UK, change occurred too, but late in the day, with less drama but plenty of hesitations and significant silences. One wonders where was the IGA in all this, if not part of the silence? One is reminded of the memorable phrase that Eisold (1994) used, referring to the development of schools, when he spoke of an ‘intolerance of diversity’ in psychoanalytic institutes, as least in the past.
Two American gay analysts are important to acknowledge at this point, Richard Isay and Ralph Roughton. Isay (1991) made a career of the struggle to make psychoanalysis safe for gay men and to help bring about some reparation for a discipline that he argues contributed significantly to the very stigmatizing of gay people, up to and including during the devastating AIDS epidemic. His biography as perhaps the first openly gay psychoanalyst, is a moving account of such struggles and the powerful institutional as well as cultural barriers that he encountered. Roughton (2002) too chronicles his journey from life in the closet to one of personal and professional overcoming, describing this aspect of his psychoanalytic career as a ‘Trojan horse’.
There are some useful wider sources that I would add to those suggested by Anderson. One is from contemporary sociology, particularly the work of Giddens (1992) who has examined modern ‘transformations of intimacy’ in depth. He comments on an ‘incipient democratization’ of the private sphere and the spreading of a modern notion of equality or of democratic relationships, at least in theory. I am tempted to apply this to group analysis and to argue that it is premised, if not on a ‘basic assumption’, then at least a ‘basic aspiration’: equality. How can all members of a group find a voice and develop confidence in an equal participation? Giddens makes the important point that, as with the feminist movement and women rights, gay people are effectively cultural pioneers who helped bring about changes that would have been unthinkable until relatively recently.
From the domain of non-analytic psychology, another useful reference is that of psychologist Sternberg (1986) and his influential theory which describes types of love, based on three scales: intimacy, passion, and commitment. There are usually different combinations of these elements—including over time—and a relationship based on a single element is less likely to survive than one based on two or more. As a result of the various combinations and other factors a number of forms of love might arise, including: liking, infatuation (limerence), romantic love, empty love, companionable love, fatuous love, and so forth. These forms of love however are likely to contain universal dilemmas that apply independently of sexual orientation, although we might all be challenged by other forms of love less easily placed, such as anonymous sex or polyamory, even by those who may identify as ‘asexual’, which unlike celibacy, which is a choice, is still seen as a sexual orientation. How do we, as group analysts, relate creatively to this world of proliferating sexual diversity?
As for the clinical material, I am not sure I have much to add to Anderson’s useful explorations and agree with the broad point about the sensitive nature of how questions of sexuality and desire arise within group dialogue. Similar issues are well aired by Nitsun (2006) who argues that desire is easily marginalized in group therapy and that therapists may collude with this by avoiding such areas and ‘play it safe’. I do however have two more theoretical points to make in relation to his discussion of the clinical material. First, unlike Anderson, I am not convinced that Lacanian theory provides a convincing way forward in this area and indeed am critical of how Lacan’s coquetry made psychoanalysis less rather than more accessible; Billig put it well in commenting that for all his claims of a ‘return to Freud’, ‘Lacan was an obscure writer, who seemed to delight in making things difficult to grasp, offering few examples to illustrate his elusive points’ (2013: 4). To this extent I struggle with the Lacanian terms that he uses. Secondly, I think that narrative approaches have much to offer in this area, as well as in the understanding of communication in group analysis more generally (Weegmann, 2014). As is well noted and the telling of ‘sexual stories’ has proliferated, in society at large and including the microcosm of the group, of which say, the ‘survival story’ (following abuse) or the ‘coming out’ story are two examples; Anderson’s illustration involves the latter, as well as adding other aspects. Plummer (1995) analyses the formation of such stories and how they link to narratives of struggle and living, and in the case of the metaphor of ‘coming out’ involves a symbolic journey from secrecy to the public world, from the private to the participatory domain. Traditionally ‘coming out’ remains the task of the sexually marked or marginalized, as the heterosexual person would face no such necessity. In this regard, it is good that Anderson questions the notion of why this only applies to the gay person in a group. As norms evolve and society changes, ‘coming out’ may be less of an issue in therapy groups, as compared to the past, although in other contexts (e.g. family or sports club) the challenge might be still dramatically present. Indeed, in my own clinical experience, ‘coming out’ and the pressures/processes once associated with are far less in evidence or else are non-issues because homosexuality is no longer marked in this way. I concur with Anderson in the idea that the effective group therapy ‘raises the bar’ as it were, so as to allow more communication and exploration of intimacy. Finally, I would like to have seen some discussion of an area that Anderson identifies as being of importance—the actual significance of his being a gay therapist conducting the group.
My final note is on encouragement and what I will call ‘writing out’, the written equivalent of ‘speaking out’. Anderson takes encouragement (empowerment?) from the range of authors that he cites (e.g. Burman, Nitzgen, Nitsun, myself), yet I cannot help thinking that this inhibits him from developing the theory and his ideas further. It makes me think of the process of authorship and our relative dependence on others (including teachers, ‘big names’, etc.) who have already published. How then does one develop one’s own voice, one’s permission to narrate and intervene in print? I noticed that even in the 2015 British Psychoanalytic Council publication to which I have already alluded, on re-thinking approaches to sexuality, there is an article by a trainee which remains anonymous; this, and the stated reason for it are revealing—fear. Writing is particularly challenging when the subject of one’s publication is of a critical nature and risks potential collision with one’s very places of training and formation (Schowatler, 2006). So I am glad that Anderson has taken courage to write, and taken this important area for an outing.