Part One
Origins
Every man carries within himself a world made up of all that he has seen and loved; and it is to this world that he returns, incessantly, though he may pass through, and seem to inhabit, a world quite foreign to it.
âCHATEAUBRIAND, Voyage en Italie
1 Object Relations and Psychoanalytic Models
The daily work of the psychoanalyst is intimately bound up with his patientsâ relations with other people. Like everybody else, patients spend a good deal of their time talking about people. Even when their associations run toward concerns somewhat divorced from the mainstream of social intercourseâto dreams, fantasies, symptoms, and so onâthe presence of others can always be inferred. Moreover, the patient in analysis is talking to someone; his communication is shaped by his understanding of and relation with the person he is talking to. All theories of psychoanalysis recognize this. In Freudâs earliest drive theory (1905a), the object of a drive (in broad terms, the person toward whom the drive is directed) was, along with its source and aim, postulated as one of its essential characteristics. Although the object was seen as the most variable element of drive, one not inherently or originally connected with it, there could be no expression of drive demand without at least an implicit object. Drive, insofar as it was psychologically rather than physiologically comprehensible, became known through its derivatives, through its direction toward some object. In this sense, all psychoanalytic knowledge must begin with the individualâs relations with others.
Psychoanalytic approaches to object relations are, however, infinitely complicated by the realization that the âpeopleâ about whom the patient is talking do not necessarily behave in a way that another observer of those same people would confirm. This fact appeared dramatically in the first psychoanalytic treatment ever attempted, that of Anna O (Breuer and Freud, 1895). Anna Oâs pseudocyesis and her belief that Breuer was acting like her lover rather than like her physician, initially led not to increased understanding of the dynamics of human interaction but to the premature termination of her therapy. It was left to Freud, with his courage in the face of conventionally unacceptable phenomena, to interpret Anna Oâs reaction in a way that deepened our comprehension of peopleâs interaction with each other. The resulting theory of transference made it impossible ever again to assume that the âobjectsâ about whom patients talk necessarily correspond in a one-to-one fashion with the âreal peopleâ of the external world. The concept of transference suggests that the âobjectâ of the patientâs experience (be it analyst, friend, lover, even parent) is at best an amended version of the actual other person involved. People react to and interact with not only an actual other but also an internal other, a psychic representation of a person which in itself has the power to influence both the individualâs affective states and his overt behavioral reactions.
Examples of this are commonplace in clinical practice outside of the transference in the more technical and limited sense of the term. For instance, a patient, a man of middle age who lives alone and who in treatment has been talking about feelings of shame at having wasted many years of his life pursuing chimerical goals, reports in session that his niece and her boyfriend will be visiting him for the holidays. In preparation for this visit he has been polishing his lamps, wiping fingerprints off the walls, and, in general, preparing for the onslaught of intensely critical, parental intruders. His mood as he describes his preparation matches the story; he is apprehensive, timid, and embarrassed by the living conditions his guests will observe. In the next session, following the holiday, he says that the visit went surprisingly well, except that the âkidsâ who stayed with him were âbumsâ and âslobs,â wanting only to lie around in bed all day, reveling in the freedom to do this away from their watchful parents. His affect once again matches the situation as he describes it. He is haughty and contemptuous, condescending and judgmental.
What is striking about this very ordinary example is the tangential relationship between the patientâs description of his responses to his guests and any âactualâ characteristics of the niece and her boyfriend. The only consistency between the two sessions lies in the relationship described, that of an angry, critical, and self-righteous parent and a misbehaving, shameful child. In the first session the guests are assigned the role of the parental figures; in the second the role is assumed by the patient. We may speculate that it was the visitorsâ failure to conform to the patientâs expectationsâtheir failure to act parentalâthat instigated the dramatic shift in his perception of them (and of himself). For the purpose of the present discussion, however, what matters is that this manâs account of an experience with other people is decisively shaped by a pattern of relationship that includes a template of the other and, in everyday language, is âcarried around in his head.â The relative impact of the characteristics of actual people and of these internal images varies widely among different individuals, but their presence and activity is to some extent demonstrable in everyone.
The existence of these mental representations of others, sharing as they do some of the characteristics of ârealâ people as well as some of their capacity to trigger behavioral response, yet being demonstrably âdifferent,â raises critical conceptual problems for any dynamic theory of the mind. Such images go under various names in the psychoanalytic literature. In different theoretical systems they are called variously âinternal objects,â âillusory others,â âintrojects,â âpersonifications,â and the constituents of a ârepresentational world.â Their functions within the psychic economy are likewise a matter of debate. They may be understood as serving as a kind of loose anticipatory image of what is to be expected from people in the real world; as becoming closely entwined with the individualâs experience of who he is; as persecutors, fulfilling the function of a kind of critical internal fifth column; or as a source of internal security and resource, invoked in times of stress and isolation.
What is generally agreed upon about these internal images is that they constitute a residue within the mind of relationships with important people in the individualâs life. In some way crucial exchanges with others leave their mark; they are âinternalizedâ and so come to shape subsequent attitudes, reactions, perceptions, and so on. This observation presents the psychoanalytic theorist with a range of difficult questions to which a great deal of contemporary theorizing is directed. How do the characteristics of internal objects relate to those of ârealâ people, past and present? Is the internal object a representation of the individualâs perception of a total relationship with another person or of specific aspects and characteristics of the other? What are the circumstances in which such images become internalized, and what is the mechanism by which they are established as part of the individualâs inner world? What is the connection between these internal representations and subsequent relations with real others in the external world? How do internal objects function within mental life? Are there different types of internal objects? Do different circumstances and mechanisms of internalization lead to different kinds of internal objects?
The term âobject relations theory,â in its broadest sense, refers to attempts within psychoanalysis to answer these questions, that is, to confront the potentially confounding observation that people live simultaneously in an external and an internal world, and that the relationship between the two ranges from the most fluid intermingling to the most rigid separation. The term thus designates theories, or aspects of theories, concerned with exploring the relationship between real, external people and internal images and residues of relations with them, and the significance of these residues for psychic functioning. Approaches to these problems constitute the major focus of psychoanalytic theorizing over the past several decades.
Discussion of theories of object relations is complicated by the fact that the term has been used in many different contexts and with any number of different connotations and denotations, resulting in considerable ambiguity and confusion. Some authors take exception to the broad usage just described, arguing that it threatens to deprive the term of all specificity of meaning and to blur significant areas of theoretical disagreement (Lichtenberg, 1979). They prefer to restrict the designation âobject relations theoryâ to the works of a particular theorist. But in this usage a further problem develops, because the term is applied to more than one, often incompatible, theoretical stance. It is often used exclusively to describe the approach developed by Melanie Klein, and equally often with respect only to the theory of W. R. D. Fairbairn, despite the fact that the nature, origin, and content of âobjectsâ varies dramatically in these two approaches. In more recent years, Otto Kernberg (1976) has applied the term to his own particular blend of the ego psychology of Jacobson and Mahler, influenced by terms and emphases derived from the writings of Melanie Klein.
A further difficulty with the term is that its use by many authors has tendentious and polemical overtones. Guntrip (1969) opposes the âobject relations theoryâ of Fairbairn and Winnicott to what he considers the âmechanisticâ psychology of Hartmann and the American ego psychologists, a distinction that allows him to conclude that the former is better because it is âmore human.â Theorists operating within the more orthodox psychoanalytic tradition use the term as one of opprobrium. It is a way of accusing another author of concentrating on the psychological superficialities (behavior with other people) at the expense of the mental depths. âObject relations theoryâ in the view of these authors implies a concession to behaviorism; the phenomena to which it refers are more adequately described by the concept of âdrive derivative,â referring to the manifestations of drive as they appear in the experience of the individual (Brenner, 1978). Another group of theorists, particularly the followers of Harry Stack Sullivan, view âobject relationsâ as a weak term of compromise (Witenberg, 1979). Object relations, they argue, are interpersonal relations, but the term allows its user to proclaim continued allegiance to drive theory.
It might be argued that the term object relations theory is overused, too variable and hopelessly entangled with theoretical dispute to warrant retention. With so unclear a referent, this argument might run, to attempt a theoretical approach to the treatment of object relations is a project based on shifting sands. However, because the term is so widely used in psychoanalytic literature, the substitution of a set of novel, more narrowly defined terms would necessitate unfeasible translation of massive segments of the existing psychoanalytic literature into a new language. Simply dropping the term would result in more rather than less confusion, particularly in a project that centers around an exposition and comparison of different theoretical traditions. Accordingly, we will retain the term object relations in a general sense; it is important, however, that we specify our definition at the outset, and that we keep in focus the termâs specific referents for the different theories we examine.
The concept of object relations originated as an inherent part of Freudâs drive theory. The âobjectâ in Freudâs language is the libidinal object (in the later theory also the object of the aggressive drive). In this sense the meaning of the word âobjectâ parallels its dual usage in everyday English, in which it refers both to a thing and to a goal or target. Freudâs object is a thing, but it is not any thing; it is the thing which is the target of a drive. The âobjectâ of psychoanalysis is thus not the âobjectâ of academic psychology, that is, simply an entity existing in time and space (see Piaget, 1937). In its original usage, the concept of object was intertwined with and contingent upon the concept of drive. Despite this connection, some psychoanalytic theorists have retained the terms âobjectâ and âobject relationsâ although they eliminated entirely the concept of drive in the classical Freudian sense (see Fairbairn, 1952; Guntrip, 1969). Other theories which stress the role of the object and which hold that they deal with the problems of object relations are drive theories (see Jacobson, 1964; Kernberg, 1976). Thus, the term, although seemingly theory-bound, does not adequately discriminate between those approaches which accept Freudian libido theory and those which do not.
Because of this ambiguity we reject narrow definitions of object relations. Dispute as to whose theory constitutes a âtrueâ object relations approach is a barren enterprise that has caused endless confusion to students of psychoanalysis. In this book the term refers to individualsâ interactions with external and internal (real and imagined) other people, and to the relationship between their internal and external object worlds. We believe that the term retains utility only in this broad usage. All psychoanalytic theories contain theories of object relations; they must if they are to maintain contact with the day-to-day experience of the individual. Various approaches are differentiated by their use of observations concerning relations with others and by the extent to which these observations are integrated with classical drive theory. It follows from this that our usage explicitly dissolves any assumption of a tie between the terms âobjectâ and âobject relationsâ and the concept of underlying drives. Despite its origin in drive theory, we believe that the term âobject,â divorced from that origin, retains its theoretical utility:
1. Within the history of psychoanalysis the term has been used to describe both real people in the external world and the images of them that are established internally. This dual connotation is useful in describing the interchange between âinsideâ and âoutsideâ that occurs in every analytic treatment (see Modell, 1968; Stierlin, 1970).
2. The word âobjectâ is vague enough in ordinary usage to connote a wide range of characteristics. This accords well with the experience of patients, whose world can be populated by âobjectsâ which are active or static, benign or malignant, alive or dead, and so on. The very generality of the term indicates the variability of oneâs experience with other people.
3. Although the term itself is general, the concept object suggests tangibility. Again this accords well with the experience of patients, who see exchanges with their objects as having all the experiential reality of transactions in the external world. Although in the phenomenology of the patientâs experience âinternal objectsâ are felt actually to exist, our use of the term does not imply the physical reality of such objects. These are certainly not entities, or homunculi within the mind.
4. Returning to the ordinary usage of the term, an object, despite its durability, can be manipulated and modified. It can be reshaped, repainted, cut in two, repaired, even destroyed. This connotation lends itself well to the psychoanalytic concept of intrapsychic operations that can be performed upon objects, and the experiences that many patients report corresponding to these operations.
Conceptual Models in Psychoanalytic Theory
Psychoanalysis is, by its very nature, an interpretive discipline. Psychoanalytic theorizing operates within a continual dialectic of cross-fertilization with clinical data. Freud developed his theory from the clinical material provided for him by his patients; the theory in turn continually shapes and illuminates the newly emerging clinical data. Although the practicing psychoanalyst attempts to suspend his formal theoretical preconceptions as he listens to his patients, to stay as close as possible to the phenomenology of the patientâs experience, theory must enter at some point. The very nature of psychoanalytic practice as a collaborative inquiry into the patientâs life presupposes that something is missing in the patientâs experience of himself. Whether this is conceptualized as being the result of repression (Freud), inattention (Sullivan), disclaimed action (Schafer), self-deception (Fromm), or bad faith (Sartre), the assumption is that some salient aspects of the patientâs reality, some crucial dimension of meaning, is absent in his account of his own experience, whether or not the patient is aware of it (Ricoeur, 1970).
Psychoanalytic theories provide interpretive possibilities aimed at supplying missing dimensions in the patientâs account of himself. Each theory selects from the complexity of life certain aspects or dimensions which are understood to lie at the center of human concerns, coloring much of the seemingly diffuse and variegated aspects of the patientâs experience. This dimension provides content for interpretations, a reservoir of meanings within which the clinical material can be understood. The basic concepts within each psychoanalytic theory become the warp and woof out of which the complex tapestry of human experience is woven. In the psychoanalytic process itself, if the work is proceeding in a rich and vital way, broad underlying theoretical principles are almost invisible. The analyst, once past his earliest apprenticeship, does not retain his theory in mind for active, focused use as a lexicon of meanings. He does not continuously shift back and forth between his patientâs communications and his theory, deciphering piece by piece as he goes along. He listens to the patientâs account of his experience, and his attention is drawn now this way, now that. Certain themes stand out, certain pieces do not fit together. Gradually his thoughts about the patient crystallize. Some underlying processes in the patientâs life and his communication of his experience emerge. The analyst begins to have a sense of what has been omitted, and this awareness shapes his thoughts concerning possible interpretive interventions. How can he communicate something of his experience and understanding of the salient omissions in the patientâs account in a way which will enrich the patientâs understanding? Throughout this process, theoretical concepts as such may be missing from the analystâs thoughts. Nevertheless, they provide the invisible backdrop, the unseen framework, within which the analyst hears the patientâs story. Thus, basic concepts within psychoanalytic theory provide interpretive possibilities for orienting the clinician toward crucial and hidden dimensions of meaning by informing his sensibilities as a listener.
Does the characterization of psychoanalysis as an interpretive discipline challenge its credibility as a scientific discipline? Not at all. Recent approaches to the philosophy and history of science have highlighted the presumptive and interpretive features of all scientific disciplines and shed considerable light on the ways in which psychoanalytic theories function.
Until the last several decades, Western philosophy of science has been dominated by an understanding of science and its theories grounded in a thoroughgoing empiricism and, in this century, elaborated by the philosophical doctrines of logical positivism. Within this understanding, termed by recent philosophers of science âThe Received View,â there is an assumed one-to-one correspondence between good theory and actual events and processes in the real world: facts are established irrefutably through objective observation; theories offer different explanations of these facts on the basis of which testable predictions can be made; experimentation determines the correctness or error of the theory; science proceeeds through a gradual accumulati...