Imprimi potest : Roman Catholic censoring of psychology and psychoanalysis in the early 20th century

The requirement for censorship

Canon law required that he get approval from his Order and the local bishop to publish anything touching on faith and morals. In itself, this was unproblematic, since whatever a member wrote represented the Order and the Church, which saw as its purpose ‘the propagation and preservation of the genuine teachings of Christ and a life after these teachings’. Books that contradict this purpose constituted ‘most formidable dangers threatening purity of faith and morals’ (Hilgers, 1908: 523). Since 1879, with Pope Leo XIII’s Thomistic Revival, philosophical works, which would have included psychology, were suspect unless they had a Thomistic foundation. Specifically problematic would have been anything materialistic, ‘the denial of the spirituality of the soul’ (Burke, 1952: 33). Censors were required to ‘have before their eyes solely the dogmas of Holy Church’ (Hilgers, 1908: 525). Moreover, during the time Boyd Barrett was writing, the Church fought ‘modernism’, defined as the heresy of replacing religion with science. Many Catholics suspected psychology of modernist tendencies, because it did not typically have a Thomistic foundation. ² The result was a chilling effect on intellectual innovation in Catholic circles.

Documentation of the Order’s censorship of Boyd Barrett’s work offers an intimate look at conflicts and accommodations with psychology in the early 20th century by the Catholic Church. It is not a black-and-white picture. Not only did he receive support for his studies and much of his writing, but often there was disagreement among the censors or between the editors of Jesuit publications and the Order’s authorities over acceptance and rejection of Boyd Barrett’s articles.

This study looks at the censorship of several of Boyd Barrett’s psychological writings in the context of the political and religious contexts of the time: his dissertation and articles on psychoanalysis. This history shows the many voices that played roles in a struggle to make room for psychology in the Catholic world early in the 20th century. That Boyd Barrett wrote primarily for a broad Catholic readership is an essential part of the story, as he was a Jesuit and a representative of the Church.

The reception of Motive Force and Motivation-Tracks

Boyd Barrett’s (1911) dissertation was published over some objection. He recalled, after his break with the Jesuits and so no longer subject to the Order’s censorship: ‘My provincial [William Delany, SJ] opposed its publication at first on the ground that not a single copy would ever be sold’ (1930: 115), but published it was. The Tablet (1912), a British Catholic newspaper, while critical of scientific psychology’s ability to address the will, nevertheless offered cautious praise: ‘Within its proper limits, the work is excellent, and it is matter of congratulations to find a Catholic writer practically leading the way in this very interesting department of a new science.’ An Irish Catholic physician, T. Walsh (1912), hoped that ‘Dr. Barrett will be to the new science in Ireland what Cardinal Mercier has been to it in Louvain’. Boyd Barrett (1930) claimed that Irish Jesuits were less enthusiastic about the book, because they saw little of merit in the new experimental psychology.

That some Jesuits viewed Motive-Force as philosophically and theologically dangerous comes from an unpublished anonymous review of the book submitted to America, a Jesuit magazine. The danger was modernism, in particular, materialism. On 25 January 1912, James J. Carlin, SJ, of the New York province, wrote Delany about a review by ‘a professor of philosophy at Woodstock’, a Jesuit seminary: ‘The reviewer’s criticism was so severe that the editor thought that it ought not to be published’ (1912). While there was disagreement among other Jesuits who were asked to read the book, Carlin indicated they ‘agreed that the book contained propositions, which to say the least, seemed at variance with Catholic philosophy. They would prefer that someone outside the Society should not be the first to call attention to this.’ The question was whether or not the criticisms were sufficient to cause the book to be withdrawn from circulation. Boyd Barrett (1923d) claimed later that concerns over the book’s unorthodoxy were sent to Rome. ³

The review raised several issues. After praise for Boyd Barrett’s exacting experimental procedure on the topic of choice, it charged that he was not bold enough in proclaiming ‘the cause of true Psychology’, that is, a psychology ‘opposed to the materialistic rubbish…which is flooding the world at the present day’ (Review of Motive-Force, 1912: 2). Boyd Barrett’s professed ‘philosophical orthodoxy’ (ibid.) was insufficient, because the book referred extensively to unorthodox authors, including William James and Wilhelm Wundt. Their psychology ‘is poison’ (ibid.: 4), because it denies the existence of the immortal rational soul. Readers uninformed by scholastic philosophy could be led astray by the ambiguities in this book written by a Jesuit. The most telling criticism was that the experimental method appears to deny the freedom of the will:

But why a Catholic philosopher, who must deny determinism, and who must deny it with every breath as being forced thereto by the weight of irrefutable argument, should approach the study of the will even as a provisional determinist, we confess we cannot see…Indeterminist, though he be, his terminology, his explanations, his conclusions breathe determinism. (Review of Motive-Force, 1912: 6)

On the back of the last page is a handwritten note stating that the editor of America thought the review ‘too severe’, so that the review was sent, along with ‘other detailed criticism’, to Delany. Delany in turn sent the criticisms to the rector at Louvain and to Jesuit scholars abroad.

Boyd Barrett defended the orthodoxy of his thesis. In a letter to Delany (Barrett, 1912a), he pointed out that his book ‘has already been approved (1) by Louvain University (2) by National Univ. Ireland (3) by several Catholic reviews (4) by several able Catholics, professors, and savants (5) by the Society Censors and (6) has received Cardinal Mercier’s congratulations’ (ibid.: 4). Boyd Barrett’s (1912b) reply to the review made other points: first, that ‘his point of view is that of a natural scientist’ (ibid.: N5/8 [41]). As such, he made no philosophical claims about the nature of the will. He emphasized the ‘modest’ stance he had taken in ‘describing as far as possible the phenomena of the will’ (ibid.: N5/8 [45]). Nevertheless, ‘I think that I have done some service to Scholasticism in showing that there is absolutely no evidence to show that so called “automatic” choices are non-free. I state…that it is impossible experimentally to show that a single motivated act is non-free (p. 12)’ (ibid.: N5/8 [42]). This argument, that natural scientific study itself takes no philosophical position, so long as it stays within the bounds of its competency, and that the results of such study can strengthen scholastic teachings, since truth cannot contradict truth, was true to Mercier’s neo-scholastic vision for the sciences. Such a defense served to deflect charges of modernism. This was the crux of the matter: Boyd Barrett was being accused of modernism, the most serious charge he could face.

Replies to the American critic come from Augusto Coemans, SJ, Joseph Fröbes, SJ, and Michael Maher, SJ. Coemans gave the assessment of the Louvain faculty, which held that the perspective of the book and its methods were legitimate and orthodox. Fröbes was ‘a professor of philosophy at the Jesuit House of Studies, Ignatius College in Valkenburg (Limburg, Holland), where he established a psychological laboratory’ (Misiak and Staudt, 1954: 87). By 1912, he had already published two editions of his well-regarded Lehrbuch der experimentellen Psychologie (1929). ⁴ Fröbes approved of Boyd Barrett’s refraining from philosophical inquiry: ‘there can be no objection taken to his procedure in abstracting from such philosophical truths as free will in order to investigate and to generalize the facts. This is what is done in every experimental science’ (1912: N5/8 [18]). He noted that Boyd Barrett did assert his own belief in the freedom of the will; indeed, ‘in my opinion, he says it with unnecessary bluntness for an experimental work’ (ibid.: N5/8 [20]). Fröbes conceded that the expression ‘provisional determinism’ was unfortunate, but stated further that Boyd Barrett could hardly be criticized for using Michotte’s term. Finally, to say as Boyd Barrett did that the will could be ‘determined’ was no denial of the freedom of the will. The scholastics teach that the will can be determined in specific situations: ‘If I will to do something as soon as a certain condition is fulfilled, then I am, as they say, necessitated to do it if the condition is actualized; but of course only on the supposition that I do not alter my decision’ (ibid.: N5/8 [22]). Fröbes’ counter-charge was that the American reviewer confused the practical and the theoretical contexts of the will’s freedom, a mistake perhaps the result of Boyd Barrett’s looseness of expression. However, Fröbes concluded that ‘I can well understand that a critic who has not deeply studied empirical psychology, should take exception to these expressions’ (ibid.: N5/8 [25–6]). Fröbes found it ‘a welcome sign that Catholic Philosophers should at last cooperate in a domain so rich in results’ (ibid.: N5/8 [27]). Like Mercier, Fröbes asserted the value of empirical investigation conducted independently of philosophical inquiry, as long as no unwarranted philosophical claims were made on the basis of empirical study.

Michael Maher, whose Psychology (1890) went through 9 editions, was an Irish Jesuit teaching at Stonyhurst in England. Unlike Fröbes, Maher held to the inseparability of the philosophical and empirical psychologies, and his text sought to integrate empirical findings into a scholastic context. Maher (1912a) emphasized the technical nature of the thesis and its general compatibility with scholastic teaching. He noted differences of opinion in Catholic circles on the relationships between empirical and philosophical psychologies:

Personally – I think in company with the great majority of English psychologists – I believe this Experimental Psychology will contribute extremely little of any considerable value either to Pedagogics or to Philosophy. Though we have for many years past taught a fair amount of Empirical Psychology in organic connexion with our Rational psychology, yet all our Professors here at Stonyhurst, when considering the reform of the Ratio two years ago, were unanimous against the introduction of a new Lecture in Experimental Psychology separated from the Scholastic Philosophical Psychology. But, on the other hand, such a course of Experimental Psychology, altogether separated from the Scholastic course, and by preference to be taught by the Professor of Biology, or some other Science Professor, has apparently been sought by many of the continental Provinces. (Maher, 1912a: N5/8 [34])

Accompanying Maher’s opinion was a personal letter to Delany, addressed to ‘My Dear Uncle’. This document offers further insight into the controversy. Maher (1912b) confessed being at first angry, then anxious, after reading the American critic’s review. At first, he found the criticism telling, but after then reading the book, aside from some looseness of expression, he found nothing unorthodox in it. Nevertheless, the lack of precision in philosophical language left the book open to misinterpretation, although Maher assured his uncle that the Louvain and Fröbes opinions provided ‘a sufficient defence to relieve you of any anxiety’ (ibid.: N5/8 [38]). He did speculate about the Louvain censorship process, wondering if the censors there had not read the entire book before approving it until Delany asked for an opinion; Maher considered this as a likely scenario since a more careful review would have caught the sloppiness of ‘provisional determinism’. For Delany’s report to the Jesuit superior general, Maher suggested that: ‘the strongest argument with Rome is that extremely little interest is taken in such publications’ (ibid.). He hoped ‘our American friend’ will let sleeping dogs lie.

Boyd Barrett (1927) gave a bitter retrospective account:

The Provincial…informed me that he had received a very grave letter from the Provincial of the New York Province, enclosing a criticism of my book by a very learned American Jesuit who was of opinion that it was dangerous and heretical and that it should be suppressed at once. ‘But’, I said, ‘my MS. was submitted to the Jesuit Censors at Louvain, and they authorised publication’. ‘That does not matter’, replied the Provincial. ‘You must stop the sale of your book at once and I will refer the whole matter to Rome. It is a very grave matter’. The Provincial had of course taken no pains to read my book, or even to understand the puerile criticism of the American Jesuit Professor. He decided, as most Jesuit Superiors do, on the side of caution and personal safety. Many months later the decision came from Rome to the effect that the American Professor did not understand what experimental psychology was, and that his criticism was futile. (Barrett, 1927: 315)

Censoring psychoanalysis in Ireland, 1923

While studying at University College London, Boyd Barrett encountered psychoanalysis in various forms, and conceived the idea of a priest-psychotherapist who, because knowledgeable of both psychology and religion, could address the psychological disorders of Catholics. Upon his return to Ireland, he chaffed under restrictions to his interests in psychology. Writing to his provincial, John Fahy, SJ, he said that as a result of his publications, ‘I am getting a lot of letters piteously appealing for advice and guidance. Some offering money. Also I am getting requests for articles and MSS’ (Barrett, 1923 h: N5/4 [67]). To the censorship of some of his work while he was in Limerick we now turn.

There were larger contexts in this struggle among Boyd Barrett, the censors and his superiors in early 1923. First, there was modernism, as described earlier. Second was political controversy, as the treaty establishing the Irish Free State had precipitated civil war, and Munster was a center of the anti-treaty faction. Even though by early 1923 Republican opposition had collapsed, Boyd Barrett declared himself publicly against the treaty in March. His provincial, Fahy, on the other hand, supported the treaty (Murray, 2000: 462). Political differences may have played a role in the conflict Boyd Barrett had with his superiors, especially as they had chastised him for earlier public support of the Republican movement. Moreover, strict censorship laws were passed in Ireland at this time, especially bringing sanctions against literature with sexual content. A Jesuit, Richard S. Devane, was particularly vigilant in ferreting out ‘filthy literature’ (Pašeta, 2003: 198). Third, Boyd Barrett had developed a reputation for being resistant to Jesuit discipline, and in 1922, as a result, his final vows – which confer ‘a recognition by the Society of the canonical status’ (Barrett, 1930: 202) of the member – were delayed for two years, a severe chastisement.

If Maher had argued that Motive-Force would cause no problems for the Order because it would be ignored, that argument would not have held with Boyd Barrett’s articles on psychoanalysis, published in journals directed to a broad Catholic readership. In January 1923, he published ‘Pathological Psychology’ in the Irish Ecclesiastical Record (Barrett, 1923a). This article was to be the first of a series, written at the request of the editor. The article shows Boyd Barrett’s awareness of potential objections by censors: ‘the theories put forward by modern psychologists and neurologists to explain these states are almost, without exception, fundamentally materialistic; nevertheless, these theories have a certain value, and often prove useful in stimulating thought’ (ibid.: 12). To be sure, Boyd Barrett was addressing Irish priests in this article, and the disclaimer indicated that he acknowledged difficulties with what he was about to say.

Such disclaimers did not always succeed, and his provincial did not allow the publication of the second article in the intended series, ‘Pathological Psychology II: The Hidden Source of the Psycho-Neurosis’. Fahy acted on the basis of the reports of two censors and on Boyd Barrett’s reply to the censors. A third article also did not see the light of day, although a similar series of articles later the same year appeared in America. In what follows, I cite the censors’ objections to the second paper along with Boyd Barrett’s reply, and finally, the decision of the provincial.

Censoring psychoanalysis in America, 1924

On 8 June, Boyd Barrett (1923f) informed his provincial that he had received a request ‘from Fr. Tierney of the “America”’ for articles on psychology. The rector at Mungret urged him to proceed, and he sent 8 articles to Tierney (Barrett, 1923h). They were published that year. Richard H. Tierney, as editor of America, had changed the magazine ‘into a controversial journal of opinion’ (Keane and McDermott, 2008: 22), and he was a strong advocate of Irish independence, thus sharing Boyd Barrett’s political sympathies. British authorities had even seized copies of America in 1919 when the editors had welcomed Eamon de Valera, whom the British wanted to arrest. Tierney’s asking for articles on psychoanalysis was a sign of his willingness to risk controversy.

Boyd Barrett began a second series of articles for America in 1924, with 5 articles in the series finding print. On 22 January, Laurence J. Kelly, SJ, the provincial for the Maryland–New York province, wrote to Tierney that he wanted to censor Boyd Barrett’s articles himself ‘ad cautelam et tutelam’ [for guardianship and precaution]: ‘If this does not meet with your approval, let publication of his articles on the new psychology be suspended for the time being’ (1925a). Tierney immediately called a meeting of his editorial staff and sent Kelly its opinions. He also asked that Kelly ‘transmit to the censors the specific charges of Woodstock, or Weston [two Jesuit seminaries], or of any other place’ (Tierney, 1925). Tierney complained to Kelly about the tendency of Woodstock professors to issue cries of heterodoxy. Indeed, Kelly (1925c) later confided to the Irish provincial that ‘some Fathers who have been more or less intimate with Father Boyd Barrett at Georgetown have had serious doubts about his orthodoxy, and fear for his faith in the future’.

The coeditors made their replies individually, and they agreed that the provincial had no standing to make the request he did; only if a majority of the American provincials made the demand, would it be valid. One of them, Paul Blakely, SJ, wrote: ‘If Boyd-Barrett’s articles are unorthodox, this fact should be established…But it cannot be established by vague accusations or rhetorical questions’ (1925). The arguments were to no avail; no more of Boyd Barrett’s articles appeared in America. Kelly (1925b) wrote to the Irish provincial in May that it was time for Boyd Barrett to return home: ‘His articles in “America” have been the cause of no little unfavorable criticism and perhaps it will be better for Father not to remain.’ Kelly was feeling the heat of criticism of Boyd Barrett’s articles on psychoanalysis from some in the American Jesuit community, and he seemed eager to rid himself of a distraction. He may have distrusted Tierney as well, given the latter’s willingness to engage with controversial issues. In a subsequent letter to Fahy, he explained the situation in greater detail, after Fahy agreed to have Boyd Barrett return home. Kelly (1925c) wrote that Boyd Barrett ‘chafed’ under the Order’s not letting him practise psychotherapy in hospitals or in his own clinic, and that his lectures on psychotherapy were given to general audiences rather than to medical specialists. Then he returned to the series in America: ‘The first few articles of a series contributed to “America” were strongly objected to and I felt it my duty to use super-censorship and suspend them. This caused no little friction between Father Tierney and myself.’ Kelly prevailed, and not simply because he was the provincial, as he explained to Fahy: ‘About that time good Father Tierney fell ill and eventually the Provincials saw the necessity of appointing a successor…to save Father Tierney from a complete collapse and from death. The justice of the censorship exercised over these BB articles has since been generally admitted by the co-editors.’

Boyd Barrett’s The Jesuit Enigma (1927) claimed that Tierney wrote to him: ‘[T]he conservatives of the house which gave you trouble before are after me “hot and heavy” and through the Provincial forsooth!’ Boyd Barrett continued: ‘This letter meant that the Jesuit reactionaries who had tried to prevent the publication of my book, The New Psychology had now drawn their swords against Fr. Tierney.’ Then in early February, Tierney wrote again: ‘“Yesterday I received a ukase from the Rt. Rev., or Very Rev., or Reverend Provincial ordering me to suspend all further articles”…I believe that Fr. Tierney contested the Provincial's jurisdiction over America, however, before he could refer the matter to Rome he fell suddenly ill and had to resign his editorship’ (Tierney as cited in Barrett, 1927: 331). Boyd Barrett intimated that Tierney was forced to resign, that the stated cause, illness, was a face-saving measure for the Order. However, a later account casts doubt upon that suggestion. Keane and McDermott (2008) describe how Tierney’s health began to fail in late 1924, and a stroke had left him impaired.

In the end, Boyd Barrett’s writings were caught in the hooks of fears among many in the American Catholic hierarchy about modernism. The result was a suppression of much intellectual innovation during the first part of the 20th century among American Catholics (Gannon, 1971). There were notable exceptions (see Kugelmann, 2011), however, and once again, the picture is complex.