Bion's Legacy to Groups

Franco Borgogno, Silvio A. Merciai, Parthenope Bion Talamo, Franco Borgogno, Silvio A. Merciai, Parthenope Bion Talamo

• Publisher: Routledge
• Year: 2018
• Print ISBN: 9781855751880
• eBook ISBN: 9780429911491
• Topic: Psychology
• Subtopic: History & Theory in Psychology
• Index: Psychology

'It is characteristic of some forms of scientific genius to alter not just what we see in the world, but how we see it - not just the view, but the lens. One thinks of Freud's discovery of the transference, or of Melanie Klein's attention to the play of children. Wilfred Bion's study of groups and group processes also has this quality. More than the content of what he saw and captured in the concepts of two modes of mental functioning in groups and in the differentiation of the basic assumptions, it was the way he saw or, more broadly, the way he sensed the emotional life of the individual in the group, and in the first instance his own, that opened up a quite new territory for exploration. Those of us whose practice takes place primarily in the institutional or social domain can find in his more psychoanalytic work seeds of new thought extending beyond the consulting room.Going "beyond the confines" might perhaps more generally stand as a metaphor for Bion's enterprise.

Chapter One
The internal establishment

Paul Hoggett

Βion never ceased to have the group in mind. His explorations of psychosis and his theory of thinking have provided an avenue for examining the "negative emotions"—that is, those emotions that are antithetical to thought and life. Drawing upon the work of Bion, Rosenfeld, Meltzer, and Steiner, this chapter develops the hypothesis that there exists in the life of the mind and the group an "internal establishment"—a highly organized agency under whose protection a kind of life is allowed to continue. Within the group, the establishment operates as an invisible, secretive, reactionary force that patrols the frontier of a section of the group's "unthought known"—a known that threatens the group illusion.

Internal destruction

I wish to explore the hypothesis that an internal establishment exists which operates as a reactionary force within the life of the mind and the group, I use the word "reactionary" to convey the idea of something that is the locus of much of our destructiveness—destructive of our capacity to identify our feelings, "to make sense", to give words to experience, and to live truthfully. Perhaps the term "reactionary" understates what we may be dealing with here. When Rosenfeld (1987, p. 107) states, "I believe that some deadly force inside the patient, resembling Freud's description of the death instinct, exists and can be clinically observed", he deploys the clarity that I am groping for.

Freud's concept of the death instinct has proved a discomfiting legacy for psychoanalysis. It is primarily to those who were influenced by Klein, including Bion, that we must look for a sober account of our destructive possibilities. The starting-point of this line of analysis lies in the notion that, from birth, the death drive exists as a force that threatens to destroy us from within. As Rosenfeld put it, at the heart of human functioning lie primitive forms of anxiety that arise from "the operation of the death instinct within the organism, which is experienced as fear of annihilation" (Rosenfeld, 1971, p. 171). Klein (1958) had insisted that this destructive internal force is partly dealt with by being projected into figures in the outside world, which are then experienced as bad and persecuting. That part of the death instinct which remains within the psyche is then turned upon these persecutory figures.

Put in ordinary language, we might say that forces of life and death, creativity and destructiveness lie within all of us. This is basic to the human condition. In other words, terror has an existential status. We cannot ask, "what is this terror of?"—it has no locus that can be pinpointed, and at first it is attached to no object or structure. It is a self-reproducing, silent, deathly force. The process of projection of which Klein speaks is equivalent to the process of converting an internal terror into an external and identifiable threat. "I fear" becomes "I am frightened of" and "I hate" (Hoggett, 1992). In other words, because of our terror we are capable of hate.

An agency that protects us from destruction

There is another primitive strategy for dealing with terror that Rosenfeld identifies. He suggests that a part of the death drive is used to create an internal agency that, through a perverted twist, offers to protect us from the terror of which it is itself a derivative. Rosenfeld approaches the examination of this agency through a study of narcissism. From the perspective of the life force, narcissism can be considered as an over-valuation of self. This was Freud's starting-point in his paper on narcissism: "we say that a human being has originally two sexual objects—himself and the woman who nurses him—and in doing so we are postulating a primary narcissism in everyone" (Freud, 1914c, p. 88). This self-idealization can assume both the healthy form of feeling good about oneself and the more pathological form whereby one feels there is nothing good in the world but self. But, in a key passage, Rosenfeld suggests that a similar process may operate regarding the destructive part of the self:

when considering narcissism from the destructive aspect, we find that again self-idealization plays a central role, but now it is the idealization of the omnipotent destructive parts of the self. They are directed both against any positive libidinal object relationship and any libidinal part of the self which experiences need for the object and desire to depend on it. . they have a very powerful effect in preventing dependent object relations and in keeping external objects permanently devalued, which accounts for the apparent indifference of the narcissistic individual towards external objects and the world. [Rosenfeld, 1971, p. 173]

Thus we have an internal agency that stands opposed to the needy, desiring, life-seeking subject. Rosenfeld links this hostile life-destroying force to Klein's concept of envy. Envy is at the root of narcissism. To experience need is to experience dependence on the object that might satisfy that need, but dependence stimulates envy of that object. If we are to enter human relations—that is, if we are to become human subjects capable of engaging in any kind of exchange with others—then we must acknowledge our dependency both upon the natural and upon the human environment. This is our dilemma, as Bion (1961) put it: we are group animals at war with our groupishness. Whilst the life force pushes us towards our human destiny, the death drive rages against this possibility and offers the phantasy of living in our own self-sufficient universe. Envy attacks and spoils anything beyond self that is life-enhancing because it threatens this narcissistic phantasy by reminding us of our own lack. Indeed, envious attacks are directed not just at the external world, but towards those loving, dependent parts of self that seek to establish symbiotic relationships with this world.

What, then, is the nature of this destructive agency? Again, it is worth citing Rosenfeld in full:

highly organised, as if one were dealing with a powerful gang dominated by a leader, who controls all the members of the gang to see that they support one another in making the criminal destructive work more effective and powerful.... The main aim seems to be to prevent the weakening of the organization and to control the members of the gang so that they will not desert the destructive organization and join the positive parts of the self or betray the secrets of the gang to the police, the protecting superego, the analyst, who might be able to save the patient. [Rosenfeld, 1971, p. 174]

Thus we have a highly organized internal agency operating as a kind of gang or Mafia. Meltzer (1968) noted that the addictive relation of the self to this organization is based on the offer of protection that the gang provides, "where dread of loss of an addictive relation to the tyrant is found in psychic structures the problem of terror will be found at its core" (Meltzer, 1968, p. 400). Thus the fundamentally perverted character of this organization offers, as I noted earlier, to protect us from the very terror for which it is an agent. As Steiner (1993, p. 8) notes, this pathological organization "contains" primitive anxiety by offering itself as protector, but in a perverse sort of way it feeds parasitically off our terror. Citing Segal (1972), Steiner adds that although this organization is introduced to avoid catastrophe, it is the organization itself that becomes a chronic catastrophe (Steiner, 1993, p. 49).

Before leaving this discussion, two other characteristics of this organization should be noted: (a) Meltzer (1968) notes that this organization is versed in the art of slander and propaganda, which is unleashed at the slightest sign that gang members might desert; (b) the stronger the grip of this organization, the more it resembles a delusional non-human world in which there is both complete painlessness and freedom to indulge in sadistic activity (Rosenfeld, 1971, p. 175).

Bion: the group in the mind

Reflecting on his patients' experience of being in the groups that he was conducting at the time, Bion asks the question, "when does the group begin?" He adds that from one point of view it is perfectly clear that the group begins at 10.30, but he then continues, "but a shift of point of view, admittedly of some magnitude, on my part, means that I am viewing group phenomena that do not 'begin'" (Bion, 1961, p. 88)—the point being that we are never not "in the group"(p. 168). Bion is concerned to understand our "inalienable inheritance as a group animal" (p. 91), and he traces this inheritance in a primitive grammar of group life, the emotional configurations of the "basic group" (p. 90)—that is, the basic assumptions.

But Bion is saying more here than meets the eye. It is not just that we are never outside the group; the group is also part of what we, as individuals, are. The group leaves an indelible imprint on the psyche, or, as Bion puts it, "there are characteristics in the individual whose real significance cannot be understood unless it is realized that they are part of his equipment as a herd animal" (p. 133). Bion's profound conjecture here, that in some way the mind is structured like a primitive society, remains a continuing thread running through all of his subsequent work. What is at stake is the survival of the mind and of society, as becomes clear when Bion examines the relationship between the "basic group" and learning and development.

Hatred of a process of development is a characteristic of the basic group. Time, complexity, recalcitrance of the object to desire—all of these qualities of the world are hated in equal measure. There are no problems of membership or citizenship in the basic group such as would be entailed by a social contract based on reciprocity; rather, belonging is automatic, "a swift emotional response that comes of acquiescence in the emotions of the basic group" (p. 90). The sophisticated or work group, in contrast, represents a cooperative endeavour to pursue a common purpose in accordance with the requirements of the reality principle—that is, "the need to develop rather than to rely upon the efficacy of magic" (p. 97). The three basic assumptions that Bion outlines correspond to different magical states of mind.

I find it useful to think of the basic assumptions as primitive survival myths whose source, according to Bion, can be traced to a pre-psychological, proto-mental level (Bion, 1961, pp. lOlff). As such, they would seem to have the status of phylogenetic memory traces, in a manner analogous to the earliest unconscious phantasies examined by Klein and her colleagues (Riviere et al., 1952). The question is, survival from what? And the answer for the group/ individual would seem to be, from the threat of dissolution.¹ This, I take it, is what Bion has in mind when he speaks of basic-assumption phenomena as "defensive reactions to psychotic anxiety" (p. 189). What perhaps needs to be added is the later distinction between catastrophic and persecutory anxiety—the basic fear is of the enemy within rather than of the enemy that comes from outside.

One of the classic statements on Bion's concept of the establishment comes from Meltzer (1986). Drawing the connections between Bion's last writings and his earliest thoughts on the basic group and proto-mental activity, Meltzer notes how Bion evokes the picture "of primitive, perhaps tribal, life in the depths of the mind" (Meltzer, 1986, p. 38). He conjectures that this proto-mental apparatus, organized as an establishment, operates on the borderline between mind and body and holds—or claims to hold—access to humoral and healing processes that ordinarily protect the body from noxious events that threaten it with attack. If, under certain circumstances, rebellion against this establishment occurs, Meltzer asks, "might the thinking parts of the personality find that the privilege of immunological products had been cancelled and that everyday processes of defence against bodily enemies ... no longer operated" (p. 39).

Here, then, Meltzer asks us to consider the existence of an internal agency of oppression that invites us to live under its protection—indeed, offers to save us from itself. At a psychological level the particular way in which this configuration finds expression will always be mediated by the biographical circumstance of the individual concerned. In other words, the various internal agents will draw their character from the real others who have been involved in significant encounters with the individual during the course of his or her life—Meltzer's (1968) case study of "Foxy" stands as one of the earliest and most vivid illustrations of this process. Whilst the struggle between the establishment and the life-seeking subject is present in all of us, the manner in which it is enacted and resolved will always differ.

The group establishment

I have suggested that the concept of the internal establishment is derived from a psychosocial configuration that lies at the heart of the group-in-the-mind. Not surprisingly, therefore, it is in the life of actually existing groups (e.g. the family group, the work team, the social group, the political or cultural project) rather than more mediated social forms such as the organization that we can see "the establishment" most clearly at work. It seems odd, however, that, with a few exceptions such as Armstrong (1992), psychoanalyticaily informed analyses of group and organizational life (e.g. Obholzer & Zagier Roberts, 1994) have largely ignored the relevance of Bion's exploration of the "negative emotions"—that is, "envious anti-linkage, anti-emotions, anti-knowledge and anti-life" (Meltzer, 1986, p. 26).

In what follows, therefore, I wish to make the case that in any social group there will exist an "establishment". The establishment relates to any area in the life of a group that cannot be thought about. But, whilst it cannot be thought about, in a peculiar way the group knows of its existence. In this respect it corresponds to what Bollas (1987) refers to as "the unthought known". I will illustrate what I mean by this phenomenon by providing a case study of a community project with which I was involved as consultant.

The team consisted of 14 individuals, all but three of them professionals of one kind or another (e.g. planners, economic development workers, community workers, etc.). There was a Project Director and two senior managers/practitioners, all of whom were themselves practising professionals. There were just two men in the team; one (perhaps not surprisingly) was the Director. Many of the women were strong feminists; three of the team were lesbians; two were black, including one occupying one of the most junior positions on the team. The team took equal opportunities issues very seriously, both in terms of the work done in the wider neighbourhood and in terms of the way in which they conducted themselves as a group. They saw themselves operating in a democratic and egalitarian way—in other words, as a group that expressed its objectives through the methods that they used.

An initial visit had convinced me that the basic issue confronting the project was the lack of a common sense of purpose— people were clear about their individual tasks, but somehow they did not add up to "a whole". This ambiguity was experienced both by the outside world and by the staff within the project. When I raised this issue with the whole team, a number of comments were made—particularly by the two men—that whilst my impressions were interesting, their relevance was not immediately apparent, given that the project's objectives were quite clear, having been prescribed by the politicians who first set up the project and continued to fund it. In one sense such comments were perfectly true: a clear statement of political objectives did exist. However, it was also clear that the local politicians were now wavering in their own commitment to these objectives, and so these were not something "set in stone" but something to be reaffirmed, renegotiated, or fought for. But there was a more crucial sense in which such comments were misleading, for "the objectives" appeared to have little meaning—they constituted facts to which staff could refer but not ideas that could be grasped and given meaning. So I got off to a bad start, with the feeling that my initial impression was mistaken. A collective attitude prevailed that my obsession with purpose was a peculiar but harmless misconception for which I could be forgiven.

I then proceeded to ask participants to picture the team by drawing it. This technique is familiar enough to those who work with groups: its value lies in the use of imagery rather than words, a medium that enables people to represent that which might be difficult to explain verbally. The overwhelming impression from these pictures was of a group with a strong external boundary but with an unintegrated interior. Two people, quite independently, drew the organization as a jigsaw but with wide open spaces between the pieces. Moreover, there was a perception that the pieces were not firmly anchored— another picture depicted the team as a set of buoys floating about on the surface, tied together like balloons. Although many of the pictures were quite startling, once again they were presented and talked about in a very matter-of-fact way. The group clearly did not feel that my methods had revealed much so far. I decided to push them more strongly over my perception of a lack of purpose, but as the day progressed, I sensed a tremendous ebbing of energy and interest.

Over coffee in the afternoon I was approached by one of the two women managers. She was one of the newest members of the team; she had come from managing a women's unit in a London local authority and was clearly anxious that I seemed to be making little progress with a group with which she herself was having a great deal of difficulty. She hinted to me that the participants' apparent lack of interest in the pictures of the group was misleading; she sensed that it had in fact aroused a great deal of anxiety, which was now hanging in the air. I resolved to challenge the group on this issue to bring the denial, if there was one, out into the open. When challenged in this way, members of the group admitted that they did feel considerable anxiety, particularly about the existence of a number of differences within the group that the pictures had revealed; but—it was added almost immediately—what point was there in exploring this, for the differences that had seemed a few minutes earlier not to exist were now seen as huge and unresolvable. My reply seemed a bit limp: I stated that all one could do about such differences was talk about them. So the group talked about their differences, but again in the same energyless, matter-of-fact way, which made the topic seem boring and irrelevant. Once more I began to doubt my judgement: I felt that I was "bobbing about" on the surface of things, much the same way as others had described their experience of being in the project.

As the conversation droned on, I reflected upon something else the new manager had mentioned. She had felt that the lack of common purpose was a crucial element of the group, but she represented this as an expression of the group's internal dynamic, particularly the absence of any kind of sharing by project staff. It was as if they were all isolates. She felt this particularly as a manager: the workers for whom she was responsible refused to share their activities with her except in the most matter-of-fact way; it was as if they did not want her to "look in" on what they were doing. As I was mulling this over, another thought came to me. The group's conversation, which was circuitous and deadening, kept returning to the issue of "dia...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Title
• Copyright
• Dedication
• Contents
• EDITORS AND CONTRIBUTORS
• FOREWORD
• Introduction
• 1 The internal establishment
• 2 Beyond Bion's Experiences in Groups: group relations research and learning
• 3 Are basic assumptions instinctive?
• 4 Destructiveness and creativity in organizational life: experiencing the psychotic edge
• 5 Schizophrenia from a group perspective
• 6 Oneness and Me-ness in the baG?
• 7 An attempt to apply Bion's alpha- and beta-elements to processes in society at large
• REFERENCES AND BIBLIOGRAPHY
• INDEX