Developmental aspects of analytical psychology

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Developmental aspects of analytical psychology.

New perspectives from cognitive neuroscience and attachment theory.

Jung’s model of the mind.
Jean Knox

In this chapter I shall examine the ways in which recent developments in cognitive neuroscience and attachment theory can shed new light on certain key features of Jung’s model of the psyche. I will first outline give a brief summary of the central concepts of analytical psychology, highlighting the emergence of each key stage of the model as steps in the formation of an integrated theory.

Analytical psychology started to emerge as a separate discipline when Jung began to question the sexual nature of libido which remained the foundation stone of Freud’s model of the psyche and on which psychoanalysis has been constructed. For Jung, however this seemed too narrow a basis for the richness and complexity of psychic life; his view of libido as a neutral form of psychic energy that can be drawn on for a variety of purposes marked the point at which he abandoned his attempts to reconcile his model with that of Freud. Jung stated his rejection of sexuality as the source of psychic life quite clearly when he wrote: ‘I cannot see the real aetiology of neurosis in the various manifestations of infantile sexual development and the fantasies to which they give rise’ (Jung 1916: para. 574).
Jung’s repudiation of the basic premise of psychoanalysis caused great distress to both men and finally brought about the permanent rupture of their relationship (Freud/Jung 1961:534-540). It also opened up a fault line between the models of the mind they each constructed that persists to this day. For Freud, the unconscious was a ‘seething cauldron’ of incestuous desires and wishes associated with the Oedipus complex, which are unacceptable to the conscious mind. Once Jung had rejected the sexual nature of libido it could really only be a matter of time before he developed a very different view of the nature of unconscious contents which he was free to explore as both positive and negative. By 1930 he was able to describe his view of the unconscious as ‘the eternally living, creative, germinal layer in each of us’ and to state that : ‘the unconscious contains not only the sources of instinct and the whole prehistoric nature of man right down to the animal level, but also, along with these, the creative seeds of the future and the roots of all constructive fantasies’ (Jung 1961[1930]: para 760)
Jung’s view that the unconscious is the source of creativity as well as destructiveness led him to conclude that the unconscious cannot be unified and then to the idea that dissociation, not repression, is the main mechanism keeping mental contents out of consciousness. Jung’s interest in dissociation emerged out of his study of his cousin Helene Preiswerk who entered trances during which she appeared to function as a medium for spirits, a phenomenon which contributed to Jung’s ideas about sub-personalities (Hayman 1999: 40-44).
James Astor makes the interesting point that Freud’s response to this development in Jung’s model was to conceptualize dissociation itself as pathological, in contrast to Jung’s increasing confidence that different part selves co-exist within the personality as a normal phenomenon and that the unconscious can often be a dissociated rather than a dynamically repressed unconscious (Astor 2002). Although Jung accepted that repression and dissociation are both mechanisms underpinning compartmentalization in the psyche, Jung rejected Freud’s view that dissociation was always a defensive process, with the primary purpose of keeping unconscious instinctual wishes out of conscious awareness. Jung was familiar with the work of Janet and his clinical experience at the Burgholzi provided rich material for the evolution of his own distinctive understanding of the workings of the human mind, as Ellenberger highlights:
Jung repeatedly referred to Janet (whose lectures he had attended in Paris during the winter semester (1902-1903). The influence of Psychological Automatism can be seen from Jung’s way of considering the human mind as comprising a number of sub-personalities (Janet’s ‘simultaneous psychological existences’). What Jung called a ‘complex’ was originally nothing but the equivalent of Janet’s ‘subconscious fixed idea.

(Ellenberger 1970: 406)

Jung’s study of Janet’s ideas led on to the discovery of complexes. Jung conceived of these as fragmentary personalities or splinter psyches, within which there is perception, feeling, volition and intention, as though a subject were present which thinks and is goal-directed. The ego is only one complex among many and consciousness is a consequence of the ego’s capacity to appropriate as one’s own and use effectively and freely the complexes that are already structuring one’s existence. Without the ego’s self-reflection, the complexes function automatically and have a compulsive quality (Brooke 1991:126).

Emotion and motivation are included in the functioning of complexes which function as dissociated parts of the mind. Jung was clear that the ‘feeling-tone’, or emotion, holds clusters of memories together in an unconscious grouping which is dissociated from the rest of mental functioning; these clusters of emotionally based representations exist as a normal phenomenon as well as contributing to psychopathology, as Sandner and Beebe explain

Jung thought that whatever its roots in previous experience, neurosis consists of a refusal - or inability- in the here and now to bear legitimate suffering. Instead this painful feeling or some representation of it is split off from awareness and the initial wholeness- the primordial Self- is broken. Such splitting “ultimately derives from the apparent impossibility of affirming the whole of one’s nature” (Jung 1934: 980) and gives rise to the whole range of dissociations and conflicts characteristic of feeling-toned complexes. This splitting is a normal part of life. Initial wholeness is meant to be broken, and it becomes pathological or diagnosable as illness, only when the splitting off of complexes becomes too wide and deep and the conflict too intense. Then the painful symptoms may lead to the conflicts of neurosis or to the shattered ego of psychosis.

(Sandner & Beebe 1984: 298)

The profound implications of Jung’s concept of the complex were fully recognized by Jolande Jacobi who wrote that it was ‘[t]he revolutionary beginning which carried him beyond traditional psychology, paving the way for his fundamental discovery of the “dominants of the collective unconscious”, or archetypes’ (Jacobi 1959: 30). Jacobi stated unequivocally that ‘The notion of the complex- if it is to be fully understood- calls, spontaneously as it were, for an attempt to clarify the concept of the archetype’ (ibid). The archetype is a fundamental feature of Jung’s model, one that has become most identified in popular culture with Jung’s name.

The concept of archetypes is many layered, with several differing strands that have become so interwoven that it has become extremely difficult to distinguish them and these various, often contradictory, meanings have been explored by a number of authors (Samuels 1985, Carrette 1994, Knox 2003, also see Chapter ___ [George’s chapter in this book]). The ambiguity about archetypes can be traced directly back to Jung’s own writing, in which he drew on philosophy, religion, mythology, physics, biology, anthropology, psychology, psychiatry and psychoanalysis, and used these frames of reference to explore the concepts which might help him in his struggle to understand the nature and functioning of the human psyche. Each of these frameworks provided him with a perspective through which to view the idea of archetype and define its essential features. Sometimes he wrote about archetypes as abstract organizing structures, sometimes as eternal realities, then again as core meanings; on other occasions, he adopted a very sophisticated ethological viewpoint, in which he identified archetypes as manifestations of instinct, a term which he used in a much more biologically accurate way than Freud (Knox 2003).

It is probably futile to trawl painstakingly through Jung’s Collected Works, finding evidence to suggest that one way of envisaging archetypes predominates over another in his writing. Neither Jung nor his early followers, such as Jolande Jacobi, saw the need to distinguish between these ways of conceptualizing archetypes. Instead they seemed to feel that the fact that they found a variety of models for inherent or innate structures within the cultural, religious, philosophical, psychological and biological frameworks which they studied, provided cumulative evidence for the concept of the archetype. [see also Chapter ____ :]
The essential point I want to make here is that Jung thought of archetypes as nuclei of meaning in the psyche, further elaborating his model of the psyche as compartmentalized. The idea that archetypes act as nuclei of unconscious meaning also underpins Jung’s view that the unconscious is not merely an accumulation of all that is unacceptable to the conscious mind but plays an active role as a co-contributor to the construction of symbolic meaning in the human psyche. This led him to develop several key related ideas, those of self-regulation, compensation, individuation and the transcendent function.
Discussion of these processes takes us back once again to Jung’s rejection of the sexual nature of libido as the fundamental organizing force in the human psyche. Freud’s idea of instinctual drive subsumes mind to brain and body and decrees that the concreteness of the body, in the form of innate physiological processes and their associated drives, determines the symbolism of the mind. Jung’s view was that this offered a closed model of the human mind, one in which the nature of mental content was pre-determined, an idea which he found unacceptable, writing:
Unlike Freud, who after a proper psychological start reverted to the ancient assumption of the sovereignty of the physical constitution, trying to turn everything back in theory into instinctual processes conditioned by the body, I start with the sovereignty of the psyche.

(Jung 1921: para. 960-870)

From this perspective, it was the mystery of the mind at work that also led to Jung’s clear distinction between a symbol and a sign- he wrote:

The symbol is not a sign that disguises something generally known- a disguise, that is, for the basic drive or elementary intention. Its meaning resides in the fact that it is an attempt to elucidate, by a more or less apt analogy, something that is still entirely unknown or still in the process of formation”

(Jung 1966[1916]), para 492)
This rejection of bodily processes as direct determinants of psychic contents had profound implications; it led Jung to search for alternative mechanisms or processes that might control the organization of mental contents. It seems to me that discussion of Jung’s mature model of the psyche focuses too often on the structural aspects, such as complexes, archetypes and the Self, to the neglect of his innovative and original understanding of the regulatory and organizing processes of the human mind. These processes are mechanisms for maintaining a psychic equilibrium and I shall explore later in this chapter the remarkable prescience shown by Jung when one examines these concepts in the light of contemporary neuroscience and attachment theory.
Jung developed the idea that self-regulation and compensation are the processes by which conscious biases are balanced by unconscious communications in the form of dreams, fantasies or even neurotic symptoms. Jung emphatically rejected the idea that analysis should consist solely of a one-way relationship between conscious and unconscious parts of the mind. The concept of ‘individuation’ is the term Jung coined to describe a separate process for bringing about psychological change and he argued that it is in this process that the unconscious plays an active and creative role. Jung was quite specific that the purpose of analysis is to allow a person’s sense of identity to enlarge to encompass unconscious material, a process which he named individuation and defined as:
the process by which a person becomes a psychological ‘in-dividual’, that is, a separate, indivisible unity or ‘whole’. It is generally assumed that consciousness is the whole of the psychological individual. But knowledge of the phenomena that can only be explained on the hypothesis of unconscious psychic processes makes it doubtful whether the ego and its contents are in fact identical with the ‘whole’.

(Jung 1939: paras. 490).

He made clear that the concept of ‘whole’ must necessarily include not only consciousness but the illimitable field of unconscious occurrences as well and later, in the same section, wrote:
Conscious and unconscious do not make a whole when one of them is suppressed and injured by the other. If they must contend, let it at least be a fair fight with equal rights on both sides. Both are aspects of life. Consciousness should defend its reason and protect itself and the chaotic life of the unconscious should be given the chance of having its way too- as much of it as we can stand... This, roughly, is what I mean by the individuation process. As the name shows it is a process or course of development arising out of the conflict between the two fundamental psychic facts.... How the harmonising of conscious and unconscious data is to be undertaken cannot be indicated in the form of a recipe...Out of this union emerge new situations and new conscious attitudes. I have therefore called the union of opposites ‘the transcendent function’. This rounding out of the personality into a whole may well be the goal of any psychotherapy that claims to be more than a mere cure of symptoms.

(Jung 1939: paras. 522-524)

With statements such as this, Jung supported his view of the psyche as self-regulating, with neurotic symptoms and dreams operating as communications from the unconscious, to compensate for an unbalanced conscious attitude. Anthony Storr has pointed out that this concept runs through the whole of Jung’s scheme of how the mind works, underpinning his classification of psychological types and has summarized this with great clarity, writing:
In Western man, because of the achievements of his culture, there was an especial tendency towards intellectual hubris; an overvaluation of thinking which could alienate a man from his emotional roots. Neurotic symptoms, dreams and other manifestations of the unconscious were often expressions of the ‘other side’ trying to assert itself. There was, therefore, within every individual, a striving towards unity in which divisions would be replaced by consistency, opposites equally balanced, consciousness in reciprocal relation with the unconscious.

(Storr 1983: 18)

This concept of self-regulation therefore lies at the heart of the individuation process and of the process of change in analysis, which can help to bring about a new synthesis between conscious and unconscious. Jung’s views on self-regulation also led to the development of his classification of psychological types. The two main psychological types, introvert and extravert are further modified by four main functions, thinking, feeling, sensation and intuition, any one of which may predominate in an individual’s approach to life. [This will be discussed at more length in chapter ____ (John Beebe’s chapter)]
Jung also developed the concept of the ‘transcendent function’ as the process by which conscious and unconscious attitudes are compared and integrated with each other, reflecting his view of the unconscious as an active contributor to the meaning-making process. Jung stated unequivocally that in the process of symbol formation ‘the union of conscious and unconscious contents is consummated. Out of this union emerge new situations and new conscious attitudes. I have therefore called the union of opposites the “transcendent function”’ (Jung 1939: para524).
However, this does not in itself resolve the dilemma about what determines psychic imbalance- what is the organizing principle behind the process of self-regulation? Once Jung had so emphatically rejected instinctual drive as the bedrock on which psychic meaning is constructed, he needed to find an alternative process which governs the development and organization of the human psyche. His solution was the concept of the Self, which is both the centre and the totality of the psyche and which guides the process of individuation, suggesting that ‘the goal of psychic development is the self’ (Jung 1963: 188). Jung wrote:
If the unconscious can be recognized as a co-determining factor along with consciousness, and if we can live in such a way that conscious and unconscious demands are taken into account as far as possible, then the centre of gravity of the total personality shifts its position. It is no longer in the ego, which is merely the centre of consciousness, but in the hypothetical point between conscious and unconscious. This new centre might be called the self.

(Jung 1967: para. 67)

Jung fully realized the inconsistencies inherent in the concept of the self and saw these as integral to the idea, writing ‘The self, however, is absolutely paradoxical in that it represents in every respect thesis and antithesis and at the same time, synthesis’ (Jung 1944: para 21).

Jung’s view of libido as neutral psychic energy and of the unconscious as an active co-contributor to meaning, led him to see motivation teleologically, not just causally. He fully accepted that biological needs are powerful motivating factors and indeed, he felt that Freud’s view of the role of biology was too restricted in its focus on sexual drive to the exclusion of other biological forces. However he felt that the psyche is also constantly searching for meaning, a spiritual and philosophical quest that is purposive. David Tresan (2004) identifies the explosive nature of an apparently innocuous phrase in The Psychology of the Unconscious’, where Jung writes about the mobility of the libido. Tresan recognizes that this concept of a detachable and mobile libido is the core of Jung’s abandonment of Freud’s sexual theory. Jung’s later paper ‘On psychic energy’ elaborates his view that libido can direct motivation not only towards a much wider range of biological gratifications than Freud envisaged, but also, in Tresan’s words ‘towards symbol formation, conceptualizing and cultural activity’ (Tresan 2004:203). Jung’s hypotheses about motivation have been left largely unexamined, at least in terms of exploring his views on libido as reflections of his ideas about the factors that motivate human behaviour and mental functioning. In fact Jung identified several instinctual motivations; he saw hunger as the characteristic expression of the instinct of self-preservation, sexuality, the drive to activity which finds expression in the ‘urge to travel, love of change, restlessness, and the play-instinct’. Jung also identified the reflective instinct, whereby ‘a natural process is transformed into a conscious content’ and the creative instinct (Jung 1969[1937] paras 237-241).

Jung’s mature model of the mind had important implications for his view of the process of change in analysis. He was adamant that the analyst is not merely a neutral observer and interpreter of the analysand’s unconscious. He felt that Freud’s approach led to a stereotyped process of analysis, in which the analyst knows beforehand what will emerge from the patient’s unconscious. Jung was adamant that an effective analysis required the analyst to be affected and altered as well as the patient and he viewed analysis as a dialectical process ‘in which the doctor, as a person, participates just as much as the patient’ (Jung 1951: para. 239). This was the basis of Jung’s view that the analyst must first have had a thorough training analysis himself, although he was under no illusion that this would be ‘an absolutely certain means of dispelling illusions and projections’ (ibid.), but he argued that it would at least develop the capacity for self-criticism. He went on to suggest that ‘a good half of every treatment that probes at all deeply consists in the doctor’s examining of himself, for only what he can put right in himself can he hope to put right in the patient’ and proposed this as the true meaning of the concept of the ‘wounded physician’ (ibid). This view culminated in his diagram of the counter-crossing conscious and unconscious transference and countertransference relationships that he explored in alchemical terms and that emerge in analysis (Jung 1946: para. 422)

Post-Jungian psychologists have expanded many of Jung’s ideas; the crucial role of personal experience forms the bedrock of the developmental school of analytical psychology. Michael Fordham was one of the pioneers of this approach and a major theoretical innovation he introduced into analytical psychology was the exploration of the application of Jung’s model to child development. He introduced the concept of a primary or original self which deintegrates, giving rise to a cycle of deintegration-reinitegration under the stimulation provided by the environment. This provides a more complete reconciliation of the apparent contradiction between the role of the archetype and that of interpersonal experience:

[I]n essence deintegration and reintegration describe a fluctuating state of learning in which the infant opens itself to new experiences and then withdraws in order to reintegrate and consolidate those experiences. During a deintegrative activity, the infant maintains continuity with the main body of the self (or its centre) while venturing into the external world to accumulate experience in motor action and sensory stimulation.

(Fordham 1988: 64)

Gordon has clarified the developmental relationship between archetypal imagery and personal experience:
[I]n the course of development the archetypal figures become tamed by being incarnated in and through actual relationships to actual persons; these persons come gradually to be perceived with more or less accuracy in terms of their actual nature and character. In other words, they become more humanized. Perceptions become more appropriate, less ruthless, more compassionate; the archetypal projections are withdrawn, and the capacity for truth emerges. And then both the paradisal and the terrifying worlds begin to recede.

(Gordon 1993: 303)

An exploration of analytical psychology from the perspectives of developmental neuroscience and attachment theory
How do these core concepts of Jungian analytical theory appear when examined through the lens of contemporary developmental neuroscience and attachment theory? Both Jung and Freud considered themselves to be scientists and their methods to be scientific, although Jung did ruefully acknowledge at times that he had to stray far from that path

I fancied I was working along the best scientific lines, establishing facts, observing, classifying, describing causal and functional relations, only to discover in the end that I had involved myself in a net of reflections which extend far beyond natural science and ramify into the fields of philosophy, theology, comparative religion and the humane sciences in general.

(Jung 1954[1947]: para 421)
However many of Jung’s theories can now be seen to be remarkably consistent with the contemporary models of the psyche that are emerging in other, more empirically based psychological disciplines. In my brief summary of the key building blocks of Jung’s model of the mind, I emphasized Jung’s view that a divided or dissociated mind is a normal phenomenon and this is a good place to start to examine the relationship between the key concepts of analytical psychology and those of other psychological disciplines.
Dissociation and complexes

Jung’s view of the psyche as compartmentalized, both structurally and functionally, finds support from a wealth of theoretical and empirical studies undertaken by psychologists. Fred Bartlett (1932) introduced the concept of schemas, which he described as ‘an active organization of past reactions, or of past experiences, which must always be supposed to be operating in any well-adapted organic response’. In 1943, Kenneth Craik published his major work ‘The Nature of Explanation’ in which he argued that human beings translate external events into internal models and reason by manipulating these symbolic representations (Craik 1943). Johnson-Laird further developed Craik’s ideas and underlines the role of mental models as the determinants of our perception and experience, writing that ‘The limits of our models are the limits of our world’ (Johnson-Laird 1989:471). He points out that mental models are internal symbols which, whether in relation to perception, reasoning or memory, provide a mental map of the situation that they represent. Peter Fonagy spells out the significance of Johnson-Laird’s ideas for our understanding of the psyche, showing that we appraise the meaning of situations, not on the basis of formal rules of logic but instead on the basis of activation and manipulation of the particular mental-model in operation. He writes:

Mental model theory assumes that to understand is to construct mental models from knowledge and from perceptual or verbal evidence. To formulate a conclusion is to describe what is represented in the models. To test validity is to search for alternative models that refute the putative conclusion.

(Fonagy 2001: 120)

Another related line of enquiry is the study of memory and the recognition that there are multiple memory systems each with its own processes for recording, storing and accessing information. Daniel Schacter has extended the investigation of dissociation, showing that complex conceptual and semantic knowledge can be processed without conscious awareness and has shown that memory for conceptual information can be demonstrated on testing without any conscious recollection by the subject of that information. (Schacter 1996: 189). A most dramatic example is given in an investigation of patients who have been anaesthetized; it shows that they may process auditory information during adequate anaesthesia; the presence of implicit memory for events which occurred during anaesthesia is shown by a change in test performance, showing that information has been taken in but without the patient having conscious recollection of the event (Sebel 1995)
Daniel Schacter has developed the concept of implicit memory, whereby ‘past experiences unconsciously influence our perceptions, thoughts and actions’ (Schacter 1996:9.) Information may not only be encoded without awareness, it is also organized and stored in implicit memory in the form of abstract generalized patterns rather than as specific records of particular events, this information is not available to conscious recall. Unconscious meanings are gradually constructed through the process of the internalization of experience and its subsequent organization into generalized patterns in implicit memory.
John Bowlby’s concept of the internal working model offers an evolutionary leap in our understanding of the human psyche and of the relationship between inner and outer reality. The internal working model is a concept which provides a synthesis of schema or mental model theory with implicit memory in the context of human relationships. Internal working models are the implicit, unconscious maps of our accumulated experience of past relationships with key attachment figures that we draw on to anticipate and understand new human encounters and relationships. The key features of internal working models demonstrate the ways in which experiences of key relationships are registered and then organized and stored in memory. In Bowlby’s own words :

Starting, we may suppose, towards the end of his first year, and probably especially active during his second and third when he acquires the powerful and extraordinary gift of language, a child is busy constructing working models of how the physical world might be expected to behave, how his mother and other significant persons might be expected to behave, how he himself might be expected to behave, and how each interacts with the other. Within the framework of these working models he evaluates his situation and makes his plans. And within the framework of these working models of his mother and himself he evaluates special aspects of his situation and makes his attachment plans.

(Bowlby 1969: 354).
The central features of internal working models therefore are:

  • experience of real relationships is ‘internalized’;

  • the representations of these relationships are stored as schemas, or working models and ‘the form these models take is in fact far more strongly determined by a child’s actual experiences throughout childhood than was formerly supposed’;

  • whatever representational models of attachment figures and of self an individual builds during his childhood and adolescence, these tend to persist into and throughout adult life;

  • as a result, any new person to whom an attachment is formed becomes assimilated into an existing model and perceptions of that person are organized by the existing model, even in the face of evidence that the model is inappropriate;

  • the influence that existing working models have on current perceptions operates outside awareness;

  • inappropriate but persistent representational models often co-exist with more appropriate ones;

  • the stronger the emotions aroused in a relationship the more likely are the earlier and less conscious models to become dominant.

(Bowlby 1979: 117 & 141).
Indeed, the internal working model can be considered as the theoretical foundation stone of attachment theory in that it describes the infant’s capacity for holding his mother (and others) in mind when she is not present and, hence, of creating mental models of relationships.
The theory of the complex can be shown to have much in common with that of the internal working model. Jung concluded from his careful and rigorous word-association studies that a complex consisted of

the image of a certain psychic situation which is strongly accentuated emotionally and is, moreover incompatible with the habitual attitude of consciousness. This image has a powerful inner coherence, it has its own wholeness and, in addition, a relatively high degree of autonomy, so that it is subject to the control of the conscious mind only to a limited extent and therefore behaves like an animated foreign body in the sphere of consciousness

(Jung 1934: para. 200-3)

In this passage, Jung also emphasized that the existence of complexes throws ‘serious doubt on the naïve assumption of the unity of consciousness, which is equated with psyche, and on the supremacy of the will. Every constellation of a complex postulates a disturbed state of consciousness. The unity of consciousness is disrupted and the intentions of the will are impeded or made impossible. Even memory is often noticeably affected, as we have seen’ (ibid). Jung constantly emphasized the emotional basis of the complex. He also recognized that emotion is not merely a visceral or physiological experience, but is inextricably bound up with cognition, a view which has been independently elaborated within an information-processing framework by George Mandler (1975: 47) and reinforced by neuroscientists such as Daniel Siegel who argues that ‘there are no discernible boundaries between our “thoughts” and “feelings”’(Siegel 1998:6).

Many of these ideas are strikingly compatible with the findings of contemporary research-based attachment theory in a way in which many original Freudian and Kleinian theoretical formulations, such as ‘drives’ the ‘death instinct’ and ‘unconscious phantasy’ are not. Jung recognized the key role played by actual childhood experience, writing that.
More and more the neurologist of today realizes that the origin of the nervousness of his patients is very rarely of recent date but goes back to the early impressions and developments in childhood.

(Jung 1920: para 1793)

Perhaps even more striking is his recognition of the unconscious nature of the parent’s influence on the child, a key feature of the intergenerational transmission of attachment patterns. Jung wrote:
Parents too easily content themselves with the belief that a thing hidden from the child cannot influence it. They forget that infantile imitation is less concerned with action than with the parent’s state of mind from which the action emanates. I have frequently observed children who were particularly influenced by certain unconscious tendencies in the parents and, in such cases, I have often advised the treatment of the mother rather than of the child.

This remark resonates with Fraiberg’s comment that there are ghosts from the unremembered past of the parents in every nursery and Alicia Lieberman’s powerful exploration of the processes by which babies ‘become the carriers of the parents’ unconscious fears impulses, and other repressed or disowned parts of themselves’ (Fraiberg et al. 1975, Lieberman 1999). Jung’s description of the dissociated nature of consciousness, of the contribution of emotion and cognition to the complex and his awareness of the crucial part played by internalization and intergenerational transmission in the formation of unconscious contents have much in common with the contemporary view of attachment theorists about internal working models.

Although Jung fully acknowledged the crucial role that personal experience plays in the formation of the unconscious internal world he struggled in his attempt to provide an integrated account of the interaction of real experience with innate psychic content and he did not offer any significant discussion of psychological development in infancy and childhood. Jung thought that the complex was organized around an innate core. He said that the complex is embedded in the material of the personal unconscious, but that its nucleus consists of an archetypal core, archetypes being systems of readiness for action, and at the same time images and emotions. Complexes are feeling-toned groups of representations in the unconscious and consist of ‘innate’ (archetypal) patterns of expectation combined with external events which are internalized and given meaning by the ‘innate’ pattern (Jacobi 1959).
In analytical psychology, the concept of the archetype seems to create a similar problem in Jungian theory, in terms of psychic innateness, that instinctual drive does in psychoanalysis. Archetypes are often thought of as pre-formed innate packets of imagery and fantasy, waiting to pop out like butterflies from a chrysalis given the right environmental trigger, a model which suggests that something other than mind itself has created these mental contents. One of the main points of disagreement between different Jungian schools has centred on the nature of archetypes, their role in psychic functioning and their contribution to the process of change in analysis and therapy, a debate which parallels that of the psychoanalysts over the degree to which instinctual drive or actual experience shape the internal world.
The wealth of research that has emerged in recent years in cognitive science and developmental psychology offers us new paradigms for understanding the relationship between genetic potential and environmental influence on the development of the human mind. The central theme here is that of self-organization of the human brain and the recognition that genes do not encode complex mental imagery and processes, but instead act as initial catalysts for developmental processes out of which early psychic structures reliably emerge. A developmental account of archetype lends considerable scientific support to the key role archetypes play in psychic functioning and as a crucial source of symbolic imagery, but at the same time identifies archetypes as emergent structures resulting from a developmental interaction between genes and environment that is unique for each person. Archetypes are not ‘hard-wired’ collections of universal imagery waiting to be released by the right environmental trigger.
An alternative model for archetypes can be based on the evidence from developmental research which demonstrates the existence of gestalt-type mental structures which are probably the earliest products emerging from the self-organization of the human brain, a process that continues from birth and probably starts even in utero (Piontelli 1992, Knox, 2003). In The Body in the Mind, Johnson suggests that the earliest form of mental organization, which provides a sense of embodied meaning is the ‘image schema’. These image schemas are early developmental mental structures which organize experience whilst themselves remaining without content and beyond the realm of conscious awareness.
It is crucial to emphasize here the bodily basis of the image schema – it is a mental gestalt which develops out of bodily experience and forms the basis for abstract meanings, both in the physical and in the world of imagination and metaphor. One example might be the image schema of ‘containment’. As Johnson writes

Our encounter with containment and boundedness is one of the most pervasive features of our bodily experience. We are intimately aware of our bodies as three- dimensional containers into which we put certain things (food, water ,air) and out of which other things emerge (food and water wastes, air, blood etc).

(Johnson 1987: 21)
For example, a child’s experience of her mother as physically and psychologically containing is a metaphorical extension of this image schema, or archetype-as-such. The gestalt of containment is simple but it can give rise to a wealth of meaning as it is expressed in the richness of physical intimacy and the parent’s understanding and containment of her child’s needs and emotions.
According to Lakoff and to Johnson, image schemas lie at the core of people’s understanding, even as adults, of a wide variety of objects and events and of the metaphorical extensions of these concepts to more abstract realms. They form, in effect, a set of primitive meanings. (Mandler 1992). Johnson (1987) investigates systematically this process whereby image schemas are metaphorically extended from the physical to the non-physical realm Image schemas form the basis for ‘the extension of a central sense of a word to other senses by devices of the human imagination, such as metaphor’ (Johnson 1987: p. xii.).. He suggests that metaphorical projections of this sort are one of the chief means for connecting up different senses of a term’. For example, he says:
[T]he OUT schema which applies to spatial orientation is metaphorically projected onto the cognitive domain where there are processes of choosing, rejecting, separating, differentiating abstract objects, and so forth. Numerous cases, such as leave out, pick out, take out, etc. ….can be metaphorically orientated mental actions. What you pick out physically are spatially extended objects; what you pick out metaphorically are abstract mental or logical entities. But the relevant preconception schema is generally the same for both senses of picking out.

(Johnson 1987: 34)

Image schemas would therefore seem to have certain key features that are similar to some of the ways in which Jung conceptualized archetypes. Whilst image schemas are without symbolic content in themselves, they provide a reliable scaffolding on which meaningful imagery and thought is organized and constructed, thus meeting the need for a model that provides for the archetype-as-such and the archetypal image. The image schema would seem to correspond to the archetype-as-such, and the archetypal image can be equated with the innumerable metaphorical extensions that derive from image schemas. The metaphorical extensions of the image schema can provide a rich source of imagery and fantasy. The character of this imagery derives from the underlying image schema.
This developmental model for archetypes requires us to re-categorize them, removing them from the realm of innate mental content and acknowledging them as early products of mental development. In this way, analytical psychologists can avoid falling into the same trap as psychoanalysts who regard instinctual drives as the main source of unconscious phantasy. Any suggestion that the human mind contains innate pre-formed packets of imagery and phantasy, waiting to pop out given the right environmental trigger, is outdated and to be discredited.
There would therefore seem to be an image-schematic or archetypal quality to almost any experience and this developmental model of the image schema would thus seem to strengthen the concept of the archetype but at the same time to identify the key features of an event, memory, dream or fantasy that justify us in using the term archetypal. The image schema enables us to see clearly that it is the dynamic pattern of relationships of the objects of our inner world that is archetypal, rather than the specific characteristics of any particular object in inner or outer reality.
Recently, Vilayanur Ramachandran (2003: 58) has suggested a possible neurophysiological basis for the capacity for metaphor, basing this on studies of synesthesia, a phenomenon shown by a small number of people for whom, for example, looking at numbers or listening to tones evokes the experience of a particular colour. He suggests that, although synesthesia is strikingly evident in only a small percentage of the population, that we all have some capacity for it and that it reflects the functioning of the angular gyrus, the part of the brain where the occipital, parietal and temporal lobes meet and which is responsible for cross-modal synthesis. It is the brain region where information from touch, hearing and vision is thought to flow together to enable the construction of high-level perceptions. Ramachandran goes on to speculate that the role of the angular gyrus could have evolved so that the ability to engage in cross-modal abstraction could allow the emergence of other more abstract functions such as metaphors.
This capacity to reflect deep links between superficially dissimilar things is exactly the function performed by image schemas, which could therefore be the earliest representations formed as a result of the function of the angular gyrus in cross-modal synthesis. Image schemas reflect exactly the combination of information from different sensory modalities into a concept in which the common features from those differing sources of information are united into a mental gestalt- what Jungians would call an


Jung’s ideas about the self-regulation of the psyche find support from contemporary attachment theory and neuroscience. Fundamental to self-regulation is the process of appraisal, a constant unconscious process by which experiences are constantly screened and evaluated to determine their meaning and significance. Bowlby himself wrote:
Sensory inflow goes through many stages of selection, interpretation and appraisal before it can have any influence on behaviour, either immediately or later. This processing occurs in a succession of stages, all but the preliminary of which require that the inflow be related to matching information already stored in long-term memory.

(Bowlby 1980: 45)

New experience is therefore constantly being organized by unconscious internal working models and unconscious implicit patterns are constantly being identified in conscious language. Jung’s theories about self-regulation and compensation thus anticipated the contemporary concept of appraisal. It is rare for clinicians or research psychologists to recognize an active and constructive role for unconscious imagery, to accord it a compensatory symbolic function and even Bowlby did not fully develop this idea, although he did touch briefly on the idea that ‘imaginary’ fears may have a defensive function in the face of unknown dangers (Knox 2003:120). However, in her remarkable integration of cognitive science and psychoanalysis, Bucci develops the view that fantasy serves a compensatory function:
[I]t is not that dreams or fantasies are symptoms in the sense of being regressive or pathological forms. Rather, somatic or psychic symptoms may carry out a progressive symbolizing function, in the same sense as dreams and fantasies, where other symbols are not available to be used. Symptoms, like dreams, are fundamentally attempts at symbolizing, healing in the psychic domain, although symptoms may then bring new problems of their own.

(Bucci 1997: 263)

Jung recognized how important it is to be able to evaluate experiences and to make judgements about them. He described this as the ‘feeling’ function, which enables a person to decide on the value of an event or an experience, a concept which thus anticipated the contemporary concept of appraisal. Unfortunately Jung’s pioneering work in identifying the importance of this process goes largely unrecognized by those who now investigate appraisal from information-processing and neurophysiological perspectives. This may partly arise from the frequent misuse of the term ‘feeling function’ by analytical psychologists themselves. Ann Casement points out that ‘in particular all kinds of fictions congregate around the feeling function. The latter, along with the thinking function, is a way of evaluating an experience’ (Casement 2001: 132). [See also chapter ___ (John Beebe’s chapter in this book)]
The emphasis Jung placed on the emotional tone of an experience can also find support in the work of neuroscientists and attachment theorists. Allan Schore (2000) draws on empirical research to support his view that the right hemisphere is predominant in ‘performing valence-dependent, automatic, pre-attentive appraisals of emotional facial expressions’ and that the orbito-frontal system, in particular, is important in assembling and monitoring relevant past and current experiences, including their affective and social values. Joseph LeDoux highlights the crucial role of the hippocampus in the integration of conceptual information from different memory systems. He writes ‘because the hippocampus and other convergence zones receive inputs from modulatory systems, during significant states of arousal, plasticity in these networks is coordinated with the plasticity occurring in other systems in the brain’ (LeDoux 2002: 318) .
However, although convergence zones such as the hippocampus and the orbito –frontal system integrate information from different parts of the brain and so play a crucial role in appraisal, Cortina (2003) makes the important point that the whole brain is involved in the process of evaluating the meaning of experience. Siegel offers neuroscientific support for this view and for the central role of emotion in this process, suggesting that the limbic region has no clearly defined boundaries and that
[T]he integration of a wide array of functionally segregated processes, such as perception, abstract thought and motor action, may be a fundamental role of the brain. Such an integrative process may be at the core of what emotion does and indeed what emotion is.

Siegel (1998:7, original emphasis).

Cortina links the processes by which the mind selects, sorts and stores information with Edelman’s view of the neurological mechanisms which underpin them:
We constantly confront new information and new situations. How does the brain cope with this bewildering source of new information? Taking his cue from Darwinian selection, Edelman believes that the basic unit in the brain consists of groups or units of neuronal networks consisting of between 50 and 10,000 neurones. There are perhaps a hundred million of such groups. Experience that proves to be of value for the organism is ‘mapped’ into these neuronal networks. A ‘map’ is not a representation in the ordinary sense, but an interconnected series of neuronal networks that respond collectively to certain elemental categories or tendencies such as colors in the visual world or a particular situation that triggers a feeling in the emotional world. Edelman calls these categories ‘values’ because

they orient the developing organism toward selecting a limited amount of stimuli from an enormous array of possibilities.

(Cortina 2003: 274-275)
Throughout development, the brain, in response to the selective stimulation created by experience, repeatedly increases some neural connections and prunes others, so that the surviving neural networks reflect the experiences that have created and repeatedly activated them. However these surviving neural networks also have to be coordinated amongst themselves in order for us to develop a coherent and integrated view of the environment and of ourselves. This is achieved by the mechanism called ‘re-entrant signalling’ which means that
as groups of neurons are selected in a map, other groups in re-entrantly connected but different maps may also be selected at the same time. Correlation and coordination of such selection events are achieved by re-entrant signalling and by the strengthening of interconnections between the maps within a segment of time.

(Edelman 1994 [1992]: 85).

Another crucial feature of self-regulation is that it is initially highly sensitive to and dependent on the interpersonal environment. Pioneering empirical research confirms this view. For example, Sander suggests that development depends on the
negotiation of a sequence of increasingly complex tasks of adaptation or “fitting together”, between the infant and its caregiving environment over the first years of life. This is a sequence of negotiations of connectedness in the interactions between infant and mother that constructs the bridge to organization at the psychological level.

(Sander 2002: 13).

Sander argues that each living system, each organism, thus is seen as self-organizing, self-regulating, and self-correcting within its surround, its environment. Sander provides powerful support for this view with an experiment in which one group of neonates was fed on demand with another group who were fed every four hours regardless of their state. The results were remarkable. Within a few days, the demand-fed sample began to show the emergence of one or two longer sleep periods in each 24 hours and, after a few more days, these longer sleep periods began to occur more frequently at night, in contrast to the neonates fed every four hours who showed no such change. In other words, the sleep rhythms of the demand-fed infants began to synchronize with the diurnal 24-hour day of the caregiver. Sander concludes
The emergence of a new and continuing 24-hour circadian rhythm in the demand-fed infant-caregiver system can be seen as an emergent property of a system in a state of stable regulation… (t)he infant becomes a system within a larger system, held together by the capability of biorhythms to phase-shift, increase or decrease period length, moving in or out of synchrony with other rhythms.

(Sander 2002: 24).

The Self

Jung’s concept of the Self is the one that offers most difficulty in terms of finding similar concepts in attachment theory and cognitive neuroscience. The idea of a pre-experiential innate organizing centre in the human psyche that determines the direction of psychic development is largely alien to contemporary neuroscience and attachment theory. Lichtenberg, Lachmann and Fosshage (2002: 81-82) state that our sense of who we are is derived from the integration of explicit and implicit autobiographical memories and suggest that when these are consonant a person experiences an increased sense of self cohesion. Attachment theorists also propose that the sense of self is acquired through early attachment relationships. (Cortina and Marrone 2003: 12). Schore is explicit on this writing ‘The core of the self lies in patterns of affect regulation that integrate a sense of self across state transitions, thereby allowing for a continuity of inner experience’ (Schore 1994: 33). There is no suggestion of a pre-experiential self that guides this development.

Fonagy et al. provide a wealth of evidence underpinning the view that the sense of self as mental agent is not innately given but ‘arises out of the infant’s perception of his presumed intentionality in the mind of the caregiver’ (Fonagy 2002:11). Just as archetypes can be re-formulated as emergent structures, the same process is therefore necessary in relation to the concept of the self which needs to be re-conceptualized as a developmental achievement with identifiable stages- the self as physical agent, as social agent, as teleological agent and as representational agent (ibid: 205-206). This model echoes the work of Damasio , who also offers a developmental model of the self, the proto-self, the core self and the autobiographical self (Damasio 1999). However Fonagy et al. offer a more precise and detailed account of the interpersonal and intra-psychic mechanisms which guide this developmental process.
The classical Jungian view of the self as an active, innate guiding force in the psyche is not supported by the research evidence from contemporary neuroscience and attachment theory.

One of the fields which is most rapidly developing as the focus of research in developmental psychology is that of motivation. What are the forces that orientate an infant’s excitement and interest in key features of his or her environment? How does the infant select those aspects of the environment that will most enable survival and development? John Bowlby’s answer was that the intense attachment of an infant to his or her primary caregiver is the foundation stone and that natural selection ensures that infants are intensely motivated to seek out and create loving relationships with those on whom their survival depends.

Lichtenberg, Lachmann and Fosshage (2002: 12) build on attachment theory to suggest that there are five motivational systems for humans; these are the need for 1) physiological regulation, 2) human attachment, 3) exploration, 4) avoidance and withdrawal in the face of conflict or danger, 5) sensual and sexual excitement.
These do not overlap directly with Jung’s five instincts (described above) hunger, sexuality, the drive to activity, the reflective instinct and the creative instinct, but there are clearly some similarities between them, mainly in the recognition that there are multiple motivating forces, rather than the single motivating force of sexual drive that Freud proposed.
Cortina highlights how often emotion and motivation are confused and distinguishes them in relation to the search for a goal, which is the central characteristic of motivation. Emotions can act as psycho-physiological signals, telling us whether we are achieving our goals and activating a motivational system; for example, fear activates the attachment system in the face of danger. Significantly Cortina (2003:282) also highlights ‘a new motivational system that is quintessentially human’ the need to create meaning, which seems very close to Jung’s view of a reflective instinct.
Unconscious fantasy

Bowlby was also quite clear that instinctual drives play no part in the formation of the internal world and that unconscious phantasy is not an expression of libido or the death instinct (Bowlby 1988: 70). Although Bowlby was in analysis with Melanie Klein and later with Joan Riviere, he completely rejected his Kleinian heritage, describing Klein as ‘totally unaware of the scientific method’ (Fonagy 1999: 605). For Bowlby and for subsequent attachment theorists, an unbridgeable gulf exists between the psychoanalytic model in which instinctual drives give rise to unconscious phantasy and largely define the nature of internal objects, and an attachment theory view of the psyche, in which internal working models are gradually constructed from the wealth of accumulated experience of the real world and of actual relationships with key attachment figures.

I have suggested elsewhere that the internal working model offers us a new way of conceptualizing unconscious fantasy, which can, in essence, be considered to be the unconscious evaluation of experience and the imaginative exploration of its possible meanings and thus to play a key role in the process of compensation that Jung identified (Knox 2001). Eagle also draws important implications for the concept of fantasy from the idea of multiple and often conflicting internal working models. He suggests that ‘some working models may represent idealized representations that reflect the operations of defence and the fantasy of what the child would have liked the relationship with the caregiver to be, rather than the actual caregiving experience’(Eagle 1995: 127). Accurate memories of past experience may coexist alongside both defensive and wish-fulfilling internal working models which offer a conflicting intrapsychic picture. The constant process of appraisal and comparison between these internal working models gives us a contemporary account of the transcendent function and of its contribution to unconscious fantasy. The role of emotion and motivation are also fully recognized in this perspective on unconscious fantasy, since they play as important a role in the internal working model as cognitive content, a view endorsed by Lieberman who argues that the concept of internal working models needs to be expanded to ‘include aspects of impulse, drive and affect not usually associated with the set of rules and expectations that shape and forecast attachment relationships’ (Lieberman 1999: 754-755).
The concept of the archetype as image schema can also contribute significantly to the internal object world, in that the metaphorical extensions of image schemas can provide a rich source of unconscious imagery and fantasy, as Johnson proposes.

The analytic process

The unconscious meaning that we attribute to events plays a central role in the degree of emotion, pleasant or unpleasant, that those events arouse. Psychoanalytic psychotherapy of all orientations aims to bring about a gradual change in the unconscious meaning attributed to experiences and relationships, both past and present. Neurophysiologists such as Joseph LeDoux place appraisal at the heart of the effect of therapy, writing that ‘psychoanalysis, with emphasis on conscious insight and conscious appraisals, may involve the control of the amygdala by explicit knowledge through the temporal lobe memory system and other cortical areas involved in conscious awareness’ (LeDoux 1998: p. 265).

Margaret Wilkinson offers detailed clinical illustrations to support Allan Schore’s view that the prefrontal limbic cortex retains the plastic capacities of early youth and that affectively focused treatment can literally alter the orbito-frontal system. The main vehicle for this is the non-verbal transference-countertransference dynamics which can be considered to be right hemisphere to right hemisphere communications (Wilkinson 2003). These repeated experiences of being with an analyst who is reliable, consistent and empathic are internalized, providing the basis for the gradual creation of new internal working models, which reflect the new patterns of sensitive responsiveness that gradually develop in an intense analytic relationship and store this in the form of ‘implicit relational knowledge’ (Stern et al 1998). This process reflects the rhythmic dialogue that Sander and others have described so clearly in infancy. Schore summarizes this succinctly, writing:
The attuned, intuitive clinician, from the first point of contact, is learning the nonverbal moment-to-moment rhythmic structures of the patient’s internal states, and is relatively flexibly and fluidly modifying her own behaviour to synchronize with that structure, thereby creating a context for the organization of the therapeutic alliance.

(Schore 2000)

The process of comparison, which is the fundamental process underlying the transcendent function and as the essential feature of the process of symbolization, a view that also gains support from the recent work of neuroscientists. Daniel Siegel suggests that implicit and explicit representations are intertwined with each other and that the mental models of implicit memory help to organize the themes and ways in which the details of explicit autobiographical memory are expressed within a life story. (Siegel 1999: 42).

Symbolic understanding is therefore a constant two–way process. Conscious explicit experience is internalized and rendered less conscious and more automatic and implicit -- its patterns identified and stored as the internal working models of implicit memory; at the same time, unconscious implicit patterns are re-encoded and re-transcribed into ever more explicit representations which can eventually be expressed in conscious symbolic imagery and language. Jung captured this idea in his concept of the transcendent function, the process by which conscious and unconscious attitudes are compared and integrated with each other, reflecting his view of the unconscious as an active contributor to the meaning-making process. Jung stated unequivocally that in the process of symbol formation ‘the union of conscious and unconscious contents is consummated. Out of this union emerge new situations and new conscious attitudes. I have therefore called the union of opposites the “transcendent function”’ (Jung 1939: para 524). The formation of new internal working models which underpin the emergence of secure attachments and reflective function would also seem to offer support for Jung’s model of the transcendent function as a dialogue between conscious and unconscious processes of appraisal. In his essay on the transcendent function, Jung wrote:

The present day shows with appalling clarity how little able people are to let the other man’s argument count, although this capacity is a fundamental and indispensible condition for any human community. Everyone who proposes to come to terms with himself must reckon with this basic problem. For to the degree that he does not admit the validity of the other person, he denies the ‘other’ within himself the right to exist and vice-versa. The capacity for inner dialogue is a touchstone for outer objectivity.

(Jung 1957[1916]: para. 187)

In this statement Jung describes the unconscious as the ‘other’, recognizing that it may be projected onto another person and related to in that person rather than in oneself. However, Jung was using the term ‘transcendent function’ to describe a person’s ability to tolerate difference, an openness to alternative opinions and beliefs, not only in other people but also in oneself. Jung wrote: ‘the shuttling to and fro of arguments represents the transcendent function of opposites’ (Jung 1957[1916]: para 189).
In attachment theory it is the development of this capacity which defines reflective function, in that reflective function depends upon the awareness that other people have minds of their own with beliefs and judgements that may differ from one’s own and that cannot be dismissed or treated as insignificant. Both transcendent function and reflective function are descriptions of the capacity to relate to other people as psychologically as well as physically separate. The concept of transcendent function would therefore seem to resonate with the aspects of reflective function that relate to psychological separateness - or individuation which was Jung’s own term for this process.
If we accept that a legitimate part of analytic work involves providing the setting and opportunities for the gradual creation of the patient’s capacity for reflective function, then this also has profound implications for technique in clinical practice. Patients whose internal working models lack crucial representations of reflective function are unable to find meaning or symbolic significance in their own actions or those of others. With such patients, the nature of the analyst’s interpretations may need to be modified and targeted toward demonstrating the analyst’s own reflective function. This can be achieved by the analyst repeatedly showing his or her awareness that all the patient’s behaviour is symbolic, that the analyst can find meaning in the patient’s non-verbal communications. In other words, the analyst needs to show clearly that he or she relates to the patient as someone with a mind, even when the patient has no sense of his or her own mind at work.

This ‘synthetic’ or constructive method of analysis is very familiar to Jungians. Jung himself proposed that ‘The aim of the constructive method therefore is to elicit from the unconscious product a meaning that relates to the subject’s future attitude’, a statement that demonstrates his view of the unconscious as a creative contributor to change in analysis (Jung 1921: para 702). This approach is beautifully exemplified by Michael Fordham in a passage in which he describes in detail his analytic work with a patient who frequently remained silent for long periods during sessions (Fordham 1996:193). Fordham’s description shows how his interpretations demonstrate his awareness that there is meaningful communication in the patient’s silent behaviour. The concept of reflective function has only become prominent in recent years, so it was not a term that Fordham used himself, but he used interpretations in a way that could facilitate the development of the patient’s reflective function. Fordham described his approach as a modified version of the classical Jungian technique of amplification. It is modified in the sense that Fordham drew on his own counter-transference responses in the form of his spontaneous thoughts and memories, using them as private amplifications which were not communicated to the patient but were drawn on to further his understanding of the patient’s unconscious communications to him. These countertransference responses were the result of his own symbolizing capacity, his own reflective function in operation, which could attribute psychological intentionality to the patient’s behaviour, when the patient could not see any such meaning himself.

I hope I have convinced the reader of this chapter that many of Jung’s central concepts stand up well to scrutiny through the lens of cognitive neuroscience and attachment theory and can be re-invigorated when examined in this way, so that they become more potent as theoretical tools which can help us in our clinical practice. One of the fundamental themes in contemporary developmental psychology is that mind and meaning emerge out of developmental processes and the experience of interpersonal relationships rather than existing a priori. There is a constant tendency amongst Jungian analysts to reify unconscious structures, such as archetypes or the Self and to see them as innate structures of the human mind, inherited with our genes. A developmental and attachment theory perspective provides a wealth of evidence that this is not the case, but instead that mind and meaning are constructed on the foundation stones of brain, instinct and perception, thus reconciling constructionism and biology in a model of the mind as self-organizing. From this perspective, understanding the way the mind works requires us to move from a search for structures to an understanding of the processes that underpin the emergence of symbolic meaning in the human mind. I hope that I have clarified some of the areas where Jung’s interest in mental processes frequently anticipated later developments in attachment theory and cognitive neuroscience and can be strengthened by studying them in the light of these new areas of discovery.
Astor, J (2002). ‘Analytical psychology and its relation to psychoanalysis. A personal

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Bartlett, F.C. (1932) Remembering, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

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Bowlby, J (1969) Attachment and Loss, Vol 1. Attachment. London: Hogarth Press.

Bowlby, J. (1979) The Making and Breaking of Affectional Bonds, London: Tavistock


Bowlby, J (1980) Attachment and Loss, Vol 3: Loss: Sadness and Depression.

London: Hogarth Press and the Institute of Psychoanalysis.

Bowlby, J. (1988) A Secure Base: Clinical Applications of Attachment Theory.

London: Routledge.

Brooke, R. (1991) Jung and Phenomenology, London/New York: Routledge.

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York & London: The Guildford Press.

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