An unpublished letter of S.H. Foulkes to Wilfred D. Abse. A unique summary of Foulkes’ late group analytic thinking

Introduction

Foulkes had written this remarkable letter on 27 November 1970, almost six years before his death. He had begun a special correspondence with his colleague and long-time friend from Northfield days, the Welsh psychiatrist and group analyst D. Wilfred Abse (1915–2005). Abse was at that time Professor of Psychiatry at the University of Virginia in Charlottesville ¹ . This very personal exchange was carried out by correspondence and meetings in London. The correspondence has not been published ² . However, it could prove to be of considerable interest for the history of group analysis and group analytic thinking of the late Foulkes ³ .

Abse was preparing a larger publication on group analysis which appeared a few years later: Clinical Notes on Group-Analytic Psychotherapy (Abse, 1974) to which Foulkes later contributed a foreword. In the process of preparing his new book, Abse wanted to discuss with Foulkes theoretical questions of group analysis, struggling for clarity. And he definitely sought the approval of his intended presentation by Foulkes, in whom he saw the unique founder of group analysis.

The prospect of this exchange had apparently inspired in Foulkes a wish to clarify some important questions for himself and to choose his long-term friend as a trusted partner for this dialogue, calling it ‘a kind of free floating discussion between us’, in which he, Foulkes, ‘need not worry so much about the polishing and editing’ (p1). The result of this process was a letter of 18 pages from 27 November 1970, in which Foulkes gave a very personal account—together with some so far not shared autobiographical details—of his group analytic thinking, with the ‘purpose to elucidate some of my ideas, old or new’ and ‘bringing in my own person a little more than would be usual when writing’ (p1).

The fact that there exists also an undated draft version of the letter (draft) elucidates that Foulkes took considerable care in preparing this document ⁴ . The draft differs in several, but only minor points from the sent letter of 27 November 1970. Only the important variations between the sent letter and the draft version will be documented in the footnotes. Foulkes indeed foresaw the possibility of a posthumous publication of this letter by Abse, rendering his friend all freedoms of editing: ‘you will polish, cut out sections, edit and do what you like with it (p3)’.

Their exchange is based on Abse’s paper The Depth of Regression in the Group-Analytic Situation: Verbal Communication versus Acting ⁵ . He had sent it to Foulkes, asking for commentary, advice and approval. Foulkes used this unique opportunity to explain in detail his ideas, as Abse had made in this paper a remarkable effort of explaining group analytic theory and especially in analysing its roots in the early 1920s. In this analysis Abse made use of some remarks by his friend, in which Foulkes had earlier given hints about the influence of Trigant Burrow and the theatre on his conception of group analysis. Foulkes’s letter is a reaction to this elaborate effort of Abse. The paper, which Abse had sent, was later published in the book Clinical Notes on Group-Analytic Psychotherapy (Abse, 1974).

The result of this very personal dialogue is the unique and carefully prepared letter of 27 November 1970, in which Foulkes shares so far unknown autobiographical material about the influence of theatre on his life and his group analytic thinking. He connects his practice of group analysis and some of his theoretical decisions with his personal experience and develops the panorama of his late group analytic thinking, reflecting on the idea of group analysis as a whole, on the here and now, on the role and concept of the conductor ⁶ , on the group process of autonomy from the leader, and some of his late group analytic ideas. There is no letter of response by Abse, as they had apparently met in London to continue their discussions.

If the letter had grown into a summary for Foulkes himself, it was also written in order to help Abse in the preliminary process of preparing his book, to which Foulkes later contributed a foreword. In his foreword Foulkes referred to this correspondence and said that he felt his ideas to be appropriately understood in Abse’s book and his own contribution to group analysis adequately characterized by his friend in Virginia, in contrast to a lack of acknowledgment of his work by his colleagues in London ⁷ .

In the essay he had sent to Foulkes, Abse reflects on the influence of Trigant Burrow and also of two dramatic plays, which, according to Foulkes himself, had a decisive influence of inspiration for his conceptualization of group analysis.

In the mid ‘twenties I came across one or two papers by Trigant Burrow which must have made a deep impression on me. They put the idea of group analysis as a form of treatment into my mind. There were other influences in the air at that time: apart from plays like Six Characters in Search of an Author by Pirandello, I remember being greatly impressed by Maxim Gorki’s The Lower Depths quite recently revived in London. Here was a play without a hero, a leaderless group on the stage, driven by strong, anonymous forces. I pondered about the pathogenic and therapeutic power of the theatre and of everyday life. Fifteen years elapsed between this first germinal inception and my first actual experience with a group. (Foulkes, 1964: 13)

Inspired by Abse’s profound interpretations of Pirandello’ s play Six Characters in Search of an Author (1921) in this paper, Foulkes in the beginning of his letter, focuses on the decisive influence of the theatre on his early life and thinking. His remarks shed new light on what I have called in an earlier paper, adapting a title from Nietzsche, The birth of group-analysis from the spirit of theatre (Roth, 2014a, 2014b).

Sharing with Abse the autobiographical background on his very early interest in theatre gives his remarks about the influence of Pirandello and Gorki on his developing concept of group analysis new depth. Apparently, the theatre was a decisive factor in his youth, he read Shakespeare’s dramas ‘with great inner intensity’, and even performed the plays in his mind. His interest reached a point of even wanting to become a professional in the field—he had wanted to become a theatre producer. The First World War and the family reservations about a profession without solid income and even doubtful reputation kept him away from pursuing his plans, as it had frightened him that he had to become an actor first, before becoming a producer. Another reason that lead him away from this professional idea, he argues, was his discovery of the works of Freud. He then goes on to connect his group analytic thinking with the plays of Chekhov, Strindberg and Brecht in thorough detail.

An interesting aspect of this letter is the dialogue between Abse and Foulkes about Trigant Burrow’s contribution to group analysis, which has become an issue of current research ⁸ , where the question is often raised, why Foulkes has denied Burrow his due credit in the genesis of group analysis.

In the paper The Depth of Regression in the Group-Analytic Situation: Verbal Communication versus Acting (Abse, 1974; see note 12) which he had sent to Foulkes, the following passage about Trigant Burrow found the approval of Foulkes:

In brief, while a climate for self-revelation for all members of the group, except the conductor, is established, and resistances against this process interpreted, pari passu verbal feed-back from other members of the group, including the conductor, is encouraged to promote insight. These insight gains generally further the course of revelation and insight in many different ways, and this cycle of events is related to those salutary changes of personality, including more flexible adaptation, which is the goal of G.A.P. (p4 in Abse’s manuscript)

and:

It was in these last respects, of gaining momentum for this salutary cycle of events, that, in my opinion, Trigant Burrow foundered. His research focus on physiological measurements probably partly accounted for his pessimism in regard to therapy within the small group, for it may have waylaid adequate psychotherapy. Moreover, his attempts to short-circuit the analytic process were probably disastrous as far as the promotion of basic personality change in the members of the small group was concerned. It would seem that his developing ‘psychoneurological’ ideas about civilized man’s becoming lost in the world of the ‘cortico-symbolic’ and cut off thus from his ‘thalamo-splanchnic system’ aroused or fortified his distrust of semantic speech, encouraged his quest for salvation in more direct contact between grouped individuals ⁹ . In this respect, Burrow is the pioneer of the modern encounter groups and of some forms of ‘sensitivity training’, rather than of G.A.P. For G.A.P., Siegmund Henrich (sic!) Foulkes, a graduate of the University of Frankfort (sic!) Medical School, must bear the major responsibility. (p5 in Abse’s manuscript)

In the Preparatory Handwritten Note No 1 for the draft version Foulkes wrote: ‘p 5 re Burrow agree!’

In the final letter of 27 November 1970 Foulkes stated: ‘A second thing which you have also taught me about my own approach is in relation to Trigant Burrow. I think you are quite right when you say he is more a forerunner of encounter groups than of group analytic psychotherapy as you and I understand it’ (p1).

In his book four years later Abse is even more derogatory:

Actually, his [Burrow’s] attempts to short-circuit the analytic process were disastrous as far as the promotion of basic personality change in the members of the small group was concerned. His distrust of semantic speech and his belief that salvation lay more in direct contact among grouped individuals arose from his developing ‘psychoneurological’ ideas about civilized mans having become lost in the world of the ‘cortico-symbolic’ and being thus cut off from his ‘thalamo-splanchic system’. In this respect he is the pioneer of modern encounter groups and some forms of ‘sensitivity training’, whereas Foulkes developed group-analytic psychotherapy ¹¹ . (Abse, 1974: 111)

As we have learned from the research by Sandner (1998, 2003), Pertegato EG and Peretegato GO (2013), Pertegato EG (2014) and Schultz-Venrath (2015), the denial of Burrow’s achievements for group analysis had been later an important effort by Foulkes. And he approved in the foreword of Abse’s book (Foulkes, 1974: XIV) indirectly of what his friend had remarked about Burrow. Also, he approved of Abse’s conclusion that group analysis had only one father: SH Foulkes. Visualizing a posthumous publication of his letter, we can assume, this was more than just a whim, he wanted this to be his final view on Burrow. He must have had the feeling in his later years that he had in this remark of 1964 credited Burrow with too much influence on his own early conceptualization of group analysis (Foulkes, 1964: 13). In agreeing to Abse’s denial of Burrow’s credit in the ancestry of group analysis, he made sure that it be known: the main influence on the genesis of group analysis did not come from Burrow, but from the theatre.

Finally, we view this letter as a document that adds a new and much deeper dimension to ‘the birth of group analysis from the spirit of theatre’ (Roth, 2014a). We have additional interesting evidence, that Foulkes at the very end of his life was still concerned with these questions, as also Sheila Thompson reports (Roth, ibid.), shortly before his death, Foulkes, lending her a biography of Chekhov, ‘thought that a study of the way in which dramatists have depicted interpersonal relationships might be useful for the development and enrichment for his own theories’ (Thompson, 1983: 344).

As Foulkes is implicitly reflecting on his death by giving permission of a posthumous publication of this letter by Abse, and as this letter is so carefully prepared by a completely worked out draft, it not only sums up his group analytic thinking, but also makes clear what was important to him about his very own contribution of group analysis.

One might even come to the conclusion that this letter was meant by Foulkes to be a kind group analytic testament, to be published after his death. However, this seems to aim too high, as he allows his friend to make omissions and corrections for publication, by the way, a very unusual expression of trust—and a monument of a rare and unique friendship.

My final conclusion: This letter should be seen as a carefully worked out summary of Foulkes’ very late conceptualizations of group analysis.

What follows is the literal transcription of the type-written letter:

To:

Professor D.W. Abse

University of Virginia

Medical Centre

Charlottesville, Virginia 22901

USA

From:

Dr. S H Foulkes

7 Linnel Close

London NW117LN

27th November 1970 [End of frontpage]

27th November 1970

Dear Wilfred

I thank you very much for sending me your very interesting essay ¹² on the Group analytic situation. It indeed gave me great pleasure and taught me a great deal more about Pirandello. I have of course read about him as well, but had forgotten much of the detail, until it was recalled by you.

Since I have read your essay, moreover, with its explicit observations on Pirandello and his work, I have realised how much greater was the influence that Pirandello’s play had on me in the early twenties, and that this went deeper than I thought. I remember, by the way, being particularly impressed by the fact that, in the production I saw, there was no curtain and no real clear separation between the stage and the audience. In the light of future developments, especially in psychodramatic approaches, this is perhaps not insignificant.

A second thing which you have also taught me about my own approach is in relation to Trigant Burrow. I think you are quite right when you say he is more a forerunner of encounter groups ¹³ than of group analytic psychotherapy as you and I understand it.

Apart from our long co-operation and the many recollections I have of conversations with you, I remember that, in spite of all the pressures of work, we always had time at Northfield to discuss together quite essential and deep problems in psychoanalysis, psychotherapy and what may belong to that range.

In particular, I well remember a conversation I had with you about telepathic experience. If I remember rightly, you had had a dream, (I think I even [End of page 1]

remember there was a swimming pool and columns in this dream), and I linked this up with déjà-vu experiences. Personally, I have had only one experience of the latter, at the age of about 15, and I have never forgotten it. It taught me a great difference between really knowing something from one’s own experience, from having gone through it, and analysing and observing others, even though this means also to some extent observing and experiencing oneself. I always felt, in that sense, that this one and only psychopathological experience of mine may be the reason for my good understanding of states of depersonalisation, derealisation or similar states of alienation, and also I believe for my relatively good results with them, particularly so in groups.

Meantime, through a happy co-incidence, we have met ¹⁴ and talked together. I have already started this communication ¹⁵ to you in the spirit of our conversation. I want to state clearly what I understand you ¹⁶ propose and what I most willingly accept. In short, it is that I should write back to you as stimulated by your own communication. I should not try to be systematic, but more or less associate freely, including bringing in my own person a little more than would be usual when writing. The purpose is to elucidate some of my ideas, old or new, and also to link them to myself more personally and more explicitly than usual, but only insofar as this seems really to be desirable and to throw them into the right perspective.

I will therefore write to you in a very free and personal style, which gives me an additional facility, very welcome at my age ¹⁷ , mainly that I need not worry so much about the polishing and editing, and that I can let my mind wander more freely, and we can both see where it all leads to. This exchange is a kind of free floating discussion between us, and this is what I understand you have in mind. [End of page 2]

I have already started in this spirit ¹⁸ and to continue in it: the use of the words ‘free association’ makes me think that what I really have in mind is a free association of ideas; the free association of ideas that occurs especially in groups and also frequently in psychoanalysis, rather than the original, almost anatomical, physiological idea of verbal free association which almost implies that traces which one would usually suppress in the brain are revived.

I mean it in the sense of ideas. The idea of using the whole group’s communication as the equivalent of free association, which is so particularly fundamental for the method of group analytic psychotherapy is meant in that sense. Quite recently an old colleague ¹⁹ of mine expressed his doubts and scepticism about this idea ²⁰ , as he is very much entitled to do. I think he took me too literally and I shall therefore go into this matter here.

One of the points I am making is that anything which we observe, say, when we are in a group of people, always contains a number of aspects at the same time. What aspect of the behaviour becomes ²¹ predominant much depends on what we take up. For instance, whether we listen more to the manifest, realistic content, or to logical contradictions and point them out, or to the aspect of the not outspoken and not deliberate association of underlying implicit ideas. This is always possible in any group, and if we listen like this we find that something of the sort is operating. Some confluence of ideas, thoughts and feelings which have a connection with each other, can up to a point thus be considered the associations of the whole group. So in my language, following Gestalt psychology as it were, I would say by treating this aspect as figure or focussing on the communication ²² in a group — especially of course in the group analytic group — we make it real. [End pf page 3]

The other point in what I was saying and what this colleague seems to have overlooked (I haven’t had time to clear up with him) is that there can also be unconscious reactions to, as it were defences against, an unconscious meaning, or there can be straight forward confirmations. This is a very important concept as far as I can see. For instance, there can be denials of something which neither the speaker nor the receiver know about.

I have often been encouraged when finding my expositions misunderstood, incompletely understood or even opposed, to observe signs of resistances, defences of that sort. To me, this was a confirmation that I had hit something. This has a lot to do with resonance, a concept about which I may talk at some other time ²³ . Sometimes successive ideas have the significance of conscious or unconscious interpretations of what has just been said or happened.

In this correspondence, we might think less of associations of ideas but rather of whole topics or themes. However as I see it the most important thing is that we should let our thoughts ‘float’ freely. For my part at least, whatever comes to my mind I shall feel entitled to write about. It is anyhow understood that if you ever undertake to have this published, you will polish, cut out sections, edit and do what you like with it ²⁴ .

Now, as we started from the theatre, — as a stimulus to work in group analysis, — today I shall first talk a little more about that side as far as I am concerned. I think I should first mention that when I was young I was very keen indeed on the theatre. I still like the theatre, although for various reasons I do not often go to see performances now. Nevertheless throughout my professional life I have often said that I have a much more interesting and real theatre, drama, tragedy and comedy, going on [End of page 4]

daily in life and true to life, in front of my eyes, — in my work, than most of the time I could see by taking a ticket and attending a performance of a play.

Even when I was young, for various reasons, one of these being lack of pocket money, I was not a strikingly frequent visitor to the theatre. Notwithstanding this, I read, for instance, Shakespeare’s dramas with great inner intensity, and saw them performed, literally, in my mind. I really had great fun with these ‘performances’. A performance in the theatre itself had to be very good indeed to live up to that fantasy at the time.

I did have a serious enough interest to wish to become a producer or director as a profession. One of my brothers, who was then an apprentice in a bank in Vienna, came home on leave and told me that one of his colleagues had suddenly thrown everything overboard in the bank, had turned to his old passion, and had decided to become a producer. I had never heard of this, and asked my brother a lot of questions, which he answered as best he knew. It was at this time that I first formed the idea of becoming a producer.

Why didn’t I become one? First of all, World War I intervened and when I came back our circumstances had changed because my father had retired and the family’s income had been devalued very considerably. The whole question as to whether I could do anything of the sort at all, or even whether I could study, was quite open. My father referred me to his younger brother, who was then, as it were, the head of the family firm, —timber trade, — who could best advise me what was financially possible. He told me that I could study, but that it must be what he called a ‘Brot-beruf’ — that is to say, a profession in which one could count on making one’s [End of page 5]

living. Under the circumstances I really didn’t dare to raise the question of becoming a man of theatre, which anyhow had then a very doubtful reputation.

Another thing which deterred me was that somebody else said: ‘Ah, but you would have to be an actor first, and an experienced actor, before you could become a producer.’ Now this frightened me. I was completely inhibited, and the idea that I should appear in public to vent my feelings, let my voice be heard and my person exhibited filled me with panic.

Another reason, a deeper one, was that I became familiar with the work of Sigmund Freud. This may have been before or just after I inscribed in the faculty of medicine. There are lots of reminiscences attached to that which would lead us too far here. Ever since that time I have increasingly, with more reading, become a convinced adherent of Freud. I thus became, instead of a producer, — but with at least as much gusto, — a psychoanalyst ²⁵ .

Now as we start from the theatre I want to supplement what you say by some other remarks and observations which I have already touched on in my books, but which it would be valuable to recall here. These remarks and observations date from a much later stage, when I was already looking back on a great deal of my own work; the one is connected with Chekhov and the other with Bertolt Brecht. (See in particular last paragraph on p 287 of ‘Therapeutic Group Analysis’ in chapter entitled ‘Brief Guide to Group-Analytic Theory and Practice’) ²⁶ .

First to Chekhov. I am a great admirer of his plays and have read ‘Chekhov the Dramatist’ by David Magarshack (John Lehmann, London, 1952). Magarshack places emphasis on the special quality of Chekhov’s plays, a quality that he calls ‚indirect action’. He means [End of page 6]

by that, that whereas a great deal happens to people, and one might say to the whole group who form the play, relatively little happens on the stage. It happens so to speak all off the stage, in the background. I thought this was very true, and suddenly recognised that this was also true in a sense of the groups that I conduct ²⁷ . In these groups a lot happens, but not much action takes place in the literal sense in the group itself, it takes place rather outside the group, not necessarily at all in the sense of acting out, but in the sense, to be more specific, of the interaction in the persons’, in the patients’, own personal network or networks.

The mentioning of network here leads me to be aware of another connection with the theatre. Once I gave a lecture to the Group Analytic Society on Strindberg’s ‘The Father’. I hope one day to write this out as a chapter in one of my as yet hypothetical books ²⁸ . This demonstrated how an author like Strindberg handles the play as a whole as a network. One can clearly show this concept from Strindberg’s play, (as a matter of fact one could do so from almost any other play), but this, for reasons of Strindberg’s own schizophrenic nature, is perhaps particularly clear because he writes unusually personally and subjectively at the same time. Perhaps I give away a bit too much, but anyhow, it would form part of this self-same book that another chapter would be devoted to Freud’s Dora Case ²⁹ in which there is also clear evidence (apart from the undiscovered transference of unanalysed transference in it) that Freud was, without knowing its significance in this case, a member of a total network in connection with the patient. This I haven’t yet worked out, in any detail.

Now to Bertolt Brecht ³⁰ . I was impressed when I [End of page 7]

began to understand Brecht’s basic idea of an alienation effect. I saw its importance for all psychotherapy, including psychoanalysis, group analysis, etc. As you know, what Brecht has in mind is in contrast to the classical drama idea of Aristotle. This latter makes the audience participate by making them identify with the person or persons, hero or heroes, of the play so that they feel how everything which happens does so inevitably. Thus they feel the fatality of the action. Brecht counteracts this affective identification by using the technical means of letting the actors, as it were, step out of their roles, and talk to the public, as actors, as persons. For instance, they will be acting as if in a rehearsal, and stop and say ‘This is not quite right, you should do so and so . . .’. The particular purpose of this technique is to encourage in the audience the conviction that one need not necessarily act in a certain way. One can also step out of one’s determining factors and decide to react and act differently. This freedom of choice, this responsibility, this release from fatalism, impressed me.

I could not help, as I always do, thinking of it in terms of the work in which I am engaged. I reminded me of an impression I had when listening to certain psychoanalysts that they ‘understood’ their patients so well that they seemed to make it impossible, to my mind, for the patient to change. They sanctioned his behaviour implicitly with all the authority of their transference to the extent that there was almost no confrontation or suggestion that the reaction could have been different or should have been different. I therefore felt that in this sense understanding can go too far; it can contradict the therapeutic effectiveness of one’s presence, contribution and intervention, and that in the Brechtian sense, non-understanding could be a more salutary attitude. One of my as yet unwritten papers [End of page 8]

would deal with this and be entitled: ‘On the importance of not understanding.’

Another example, which inevitably comes to my mind, although it links only indirectly with the theatre, is that of the conductor, the conductor of an orchestra. I was struck by the similarity between my role and activity, as I understood it, with that of an orchestra conductor. There is some common ground in that the conductor does not himself produce music, he does not contribute to the noise. But he directs it, he interprets it, and again, he conveys his own reading of the composer’s work. Often I thought and perhaps even said ³¹ then that I am like a conductor of an orchestra, but neither I nor the orchestra know what they are going to play, nor do any of them know what the other has in mind, and yet I am to make sense of it. Later ³² I stressed the creative aspect much more and also the directive and model aspect of the therapist, but insofar as I have just indicated there was something of the relationship between the therapeutic conductor of a group analytic group with that of a conductor of an orchestra.

However, this has been taken much too seriously and literally by various people at various times. My wish to find a different name for him other than that of leader or director was not in the nature of a rationalisation. I really do wish to stress with this term, as I have said often enough, that the conductor does not continuously or even predominantly lead the group in the usual sense of the term, as one would lead a group of staff in a hospital, or manage an industry, or for that matter an orchestra if one is its conductor, when one would lead ³³ .

My basic idea of my function in a group of which I am either the leader or conductor has always been the same, as I more recently ³⁴ only discovered. Namely it is this: [End of page 9]

that the group concerned must be seen ’in the whole’, this may be better than ’as a whole’ ³⁵ and in the situation ³⁶ in which it operates. Many years ago I remarked (much earlier than say the Tavistock Clinic ³⁷ ) and even wrote about the fact that the group situation emphasises the here and now. I have never made a battle cry out of this, but what is much more important, I used it all the time, whether in my group analytic groups, or in the community of Northfield, in teaching or any other situation. Nevertheless, I have never given it a monopolised importance. The idea, by the way, is rampant in all brands of existential groups and encounter groups, etc., and is basically self evident, in that, as I put it, change can only take place in the present ³⁸ . The present is the only thing which is actually real. In the psychoanalytical field the stress on the ongoing transference situation goes back to Rank ³⁹ and Ferenzi’s (sic!) contribution who, in 1922 ⁴⁰ , published ‘Entwicklungsziele der Psychoanalyse’ ⁴¹ (Directions of development of psychoanalysis). In the transference situation it is thus by no means as new as some people think today.

Now another main point of principle is always to include the group to the fullest possible extent into the ongoing task, i.e. the meaning and purpose of all that one does and what is going on ⁴² , always making the group in that sense co-operators, partners, in a common enterprise and taking them fully seriously as what they ought to be and not what they necessarily are. Not posing as a leader in the sense the group thinks of a leader does not prevent the group from putting one in that position and interpreting one’s position as such. As I said elsewhere ⁴³ , it is our particular purpose in group analytic psychotherapy to wean the group from this need, to make the group grow up, to use their [End of page 10]

own minds, and to become aware of their own individuality and personality, but in order to wean them from this one must be able and willing to accept that position for a time, or from time to time again, when there is no other way. One can’t wean anybody from something he hasn’t had or has not experienced.

Last night, I watched a television programme in which David Frost invited a number of American Yippies ⁴⁴ and also a sociologist and/or anthropologist, Robert Ardrey ⁴⁵ (I think from the USA) to speak. This was very impressive in a very negative sense. I mention it because it highlights a few very basic points in our present world situation as well as, inevitably, what concerns us in group analytic psychotherapy. In short, the Yippies were immature, almost innocent and really extremely silly and also inarticulate in the way they presented their case. One had the impression that all they wanted to do was to destroy, and that they hadn’t the slightest idea what they wanted to set in its place. When pressed hard, they said things that a less intelligent child of five or eight would say about the way the world should work, etc. On the other hand, they effectively exploded the situation by shouting everybody else down, by smoking forbidden cigarettes, and letting nobody get a word in edgewise. I think they gave a good performance of what one would expect of them from their very bearing and exterior appearance; they lived up to that. In spite of all these shortcomings, they demonstrated once again how powerful action is, and they produced an intensive effect already reflected in the next day’s papers, in a way no verbal exposition even of the first order, could have achieved. Later there was a chance (I think the Yippies had been [End of page 11]

hustled out of the studio in the meantime, — there was really no other way) for Robert Ardrey and Frost to have a little conversation in which members of the audience also took part. Actually, Robert Ardrey said a number of platitudes and was not in any way very enlightening. To my mind, he raised an important point, although it is not by any means new, namely parallels between human and animal behaviour. This is especially true as far as baboons for instance are concerned. He is very much in favour of the regulation and order and hierarchy which these animals produce quite instinctively: on the other hand, there are parallels of young animals, who on occasion wouldn’t as it were listen to the warnings of their elders and ignored them, and then they of course pay the tribute and are destroyed. Robert Ardrey saw very little difference between us and animals, and seemed to me altogether to underrate the human potential, the specific potential of living above this level, — the particular human capacity which I think is the simple result of the extraordinary development of the brain which humans grow. He agreed, however, that the human being has a very great asset in his capacity for verbal communication, in the possibility of communication in words between mother and child, for instance, which of course in that sense is a function of the neo-encephalon.

What struck me in the first place here is what we do when, in spite of the possibility of our human intelligence, of our rational intelligence and our means of symbolic communication, when in spite of all this with which we could construct beyond a doubt a better world, what we do if the great majority won’t listen, shout us down, and [End of page 12]

in effect do not wish to live at this stage in the world we would prefer, — in a world of order, and peace and quiet. Now it seems to be the case that they don’t, and that we, who in ourselves have to some extent achieved a state of affairs in which reason and a creative atmosphere and sublimated atmosphere prevail, are in such a minority that we cannot live as we wish, because the majority, who after all decide (sic!) whether we like it or not, do not really wish this ⁴⁶ .

This also reminds me of the fact that in the narrower field when one wants to teach people, especially in our field, they can’t learn, they won’t listen, they don’t want to listen, they don’t want to change, they want to hear what they already know. Underneath the surface they are exactly like those Yippies only they express this in a slightly more civilised way.

In the last resort a world of anarchy cannot prevail against the world of order. The ruthless annihilation of the weaker organisation and therefore the survival of the fitter organisation is no more. Dr. Ardrey rightly says in nature order always prevails, and order also means hierarchy; it means different people, different individuals who have different roles to play, and some are inevitably much more gifted than others and have and should have a more powerful role in the community.

That order eventually prevails, one can show by experiments on rats who enjoy, like these humans, turmoils, fights, strife and crowding when protected, but in nature cannot because those communities which do tolerate such a state of affairs have been eliminated. The survivors thus become streamlined to a certain order.

Another interesting example mentioned was that according to Dr. Ardrey, baboons have equal opportunities, [End of page 13]

they have a streamlined, well organised hierarchy, but each has from birth the same opportunity as any other to fight his way to his proper rank and station. Now this is certainly a desirable feature for a human community if we could achieve it, but it occurred to me that it should not even be necessary in a very mature community to have competition, — this would be the conservative way out, to have competition and the strongest wins. This has an immediate bearing on group analysis, to make the group aware that the best order is when each is employed at the optimal level he can achieve, this is best from every point of view for each member of the group — for the whole community and therefore for each member himself.

However, as I say, one is shouted down — there is no chance for reason to prevail in this way. Inevitably there seems to be a pessimistic perspective, —either the democratic state can deal with this (but seems not to be able to), or not. Personally, I can see ways how it could, or rather see a little hope as to how it could, but it will be eventually necessary to meet force by force, to meet anarchy and terror by force, which leads to fascism. For in the world as a whole we have strife, competition and in the last resort there is a life and death struggle, ultimately the nuclear war.

I know these questions concern you and therefore I mention them a little and I hope it is clear how I see these problems as the basic question which so often besets us. In a fully fledged analytic group we can solve this on the whole. We can find an equilibrium and ultimately truth, honesty and reason prevail. Eventually it is of course a question of our ancient brain being so much older and stronger than [end of page 14]

the cortex ( new brain), which ultimately may win, so in the very long run we may be optimistic. What to do is not easy to say, already in the teaching or training group, one is already up against the same matter in a certain way; people don’t understand, won’t even listen, may even sleep if they don’t want to hear one speak and so forth. The speaking teacher seems to symbolise the father in action (intercourse), potent, and the castration or other annihilation is directed against him. I found this even stronger in some women, ‘daughters’, than in men, ‘sons’, but perhaps less frequent. Now this leads us to the very important theme — that of communication, particularly verbal communication.

Communication is of course of the utmost importance in the whole of human life, and correspondingly has engaged our attention in group analytic psychotherapy from beginning as a central process in which all other processes must in some way meet. We are naturally quite particularly interested in unconscious communication, where we use our psychoanalytical experiences to the full. It nevertheless looks as if we had to reverse our traditional assumptions, shared also by psychoanalysis, namely that the individual is the ultimate unity and that we have to explain the group from inside the individual. The opposite is the case, the group, the community, is the ultimate primary unit of consideration. The so called inner processes in the individual are internalisations of the forces operating in the group in which he belongs. This has been fully confirmed by my own observations in group analytic groups, indeed I think we can see there the whole process in miniature in a dynamic way in front of our eyes.

From this point of view, the group analytic group is as it were a connected and unified field of what is usually referred to as inner or intra psychic reaction. I assume [End of page 15]

that there is an ever expanding network of communication which in this case is called ‘matrix’ because it is the mother soil in which all dynamic processes take their place. I think it is possible to claim a firm pre-existing community and communion between the members, which is eventually founded on the fact that they are all human. They have the same qualities as a species, — the same anatomy and physiology and also perhaps archaic traces of ancient experiences. This pre-existing and relatively static part we may call the foundation matrix. On top of this are various levels of communication which are increasingly dynamic, they develop under our eyes. This is called the dynamic matrix, in between are levels which correspond to the regressive levels and can be thought of as more or less biologically or culturally determined. The cultural inheritance is very important and is transmitted by very early experience, transmitted by parents and the family in the first place who in turn transmit the values of what is good, what is bad in their culture. In the group, separation between all these levels is not always possible as they all operate at one and the same time in various admixtures.

The group shows an instinctive understanding of all of these reactions without any theory or consciousness. The group process tends to go on interacting, communicating on all these different levels until it has found each time a shareable common key or if you like a common coin by which these transactions can become negotiable. Thus an important amount of analytical work is being done for us without any intervention on our part. We must give it time and place to happen. We must behave receptively. We can then use it for our own contribution in the sense of analytical elucidation.

I hope what I have indicated, in spite of being very [End of page 16]

condensed, has made clear in what sense and why we speak of interacting processes in the unified field, the matrix of the group, and not of interacting individuals as if they were closed systems who send out and receive messages. This web of communication forms the basis for our reading of all observable phenomena, of our interpretations and other interventions. This is what I mean or have expressed by ‘they should take part in the context of the group’. They should take part in the context of the group. Such communications can be conscious but more often they are not, even quite conscious transmissions ⁴⁷ have their unconscious aspects. We need only think in the verbal act even of transmission of the accompanying expression, the tone of voice etc. The act of talking, not only the content, the meaning of the act of talking in the unconscious and symbolic sense. As verbal communication is favoured in our groups, this mode of contact, that of talking, is bound to be used for all sorts of suppressed libidinal aggressive or defensive functions, — such as touching, fighting, clinging. The unconscious reaction in the response to a stimulus is often highly selected and specific and this is what I have roughly called resonance ⁴⁸ . This may take the place of a sympathetic symptom formation or symbolical expression or reaction formations, defensive mechanisms or other responses. Resonance is a good example of communication which can take place without any particular active interaction, without any particular message sent and received, and need not be telepathic but is in fact purely instinctive. It may be helpful to [End of page 17]

remember that transmission, communication, can take place from conscious to conscious, from conscious to preconscious, conscious to unconscious and vice versa.

When communication is from the dynamic unconscious to the other person’s dynamic unconscious, what normally happens in a group is that they work through the various degrees of consciousness, especially with the dissolution of defences and resistances, until they become capable of being expressed verbally in their differentiated meaning. This work, as I have indicated, is often of great importance for understanding and therapy alike. Some people have a greater capacity than others to become aware of the results of such unconscious interactions without knowing how they arrive at this. This, the becoming aware of something which has been transmitted from somebody else’s unconscious communication with our own unconscious, is, I think, the basis of what is called intuition. What is the conductor to do with his intuition? This question like many other aspects of the conductor and his attitude and activities I will go into some other time ⁴⁹ .

Meantime, the relationship of all that I have said to the important significance of language in human behaviour and human behavioural disturbance is clear, and it gives me especial pleasure to end this instalment expressing my very keen anticipation of what you have to say on all this in your forthcoming book ⁵⁰ [End of page 18]