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Early in 1909 Carl jung, then a colleague and close friend of Freud’s, expressed a keen interest in precognition and parapsychology. To jung’s dismay and irritation, Freud strongly denounced such beliefs as nonsensical. The rejection made jung feel as though his diaphragm were made of red-hot iron, whereupon bookcase. “There;’ jung argued, “that is an example of a so-called catalytic exteriorization phenomenon:’ “Bosh;’ retorted Freud. “It is not;’ Jung replied. “And to prove my point I now predict that in a moment there will be another such loud report!” No sooner had these words been spoken than a second inexplicable detonation went off in the bookcase. “To this day I do not know what gave me this certainty;’ jung was to reflect years later, “but I knew beyond all doubt that the report would come again. Freud only stared aghast at me …. ” (Jung, 1961/1965, pp. 155-156.) I a strange loud noise issued from a nearby jung’s quest for information about the human psyche led him to sources that many would regard as farfetched-the occult, studies of extrasensory perception, alchemy, the myth of flying saucers. Yet jung regarded himself as an empirical researcher, possessed a fine mind, read voraciously and acquired an immense store of knowledge, traveled widely in order to study various races and classes, and was an esteemed psychotherapist; and some of his ideas have become part of the everyday language of psychology and life. IFreud latertook a more positive approach to the occult. See for example Freud, 1933/1965b, pp. 31-56; Roazen, 1975/1976b, pp. 232-241. • To devise a theory of personality that greatly improves on Freud’s ideas while continuing to emphasize the importance of the unconscious. • To correct Freud’s extreme pessimism about human nature by showing that we have both healthy and malignant instincts, and that one of our healthy instincts is individuation (the forerunner of the humanistic concept of self-actualization). • To show that every personality includes a collective unconscious that contains archetypes, or inherited predispositions to perceive the world in certain ways, as well as a personal unconscious that contains repressed or forgotten material. • To show that introversion-extraversion and the four ways in which we perceive the world (sensation, thinking, feeling, and intuition) are important aspects of every personality. • To correct Freud’s belief that mental illness usually has sexual causes by showing that every personality consists of various opposites, and that becoming too one-sided and ignoring the corresponding opposite aspect of personality is the major cause of psychopathology. • To devise improved methods of dream interpretation and psychotherapy. • To relate areas that most would regard as beyond the realm of personality theory, including the occult, extrasensory perception, and alchemy, to the study of personality. Carl Gustav Jung was born on July 26, 1875, in Kesswil, a small village in Switzerland. His father was a Protestant country minister who was tormented by a lack of faith, and was unable to answer Jung’s penetrating questions about religion and life. Jung’s skepticism about the Oedipus complex may have been due in part to a mother who was a “kindly, fat old woman” troubled by marital difficulties (lung, 1961/1965, p. 48), an influence quite different from that of Freud’s beautiful, young doting mother. Like Freud, Jung rose from austere middle-class origins to the heights of world fame. Jung was an introverted and lonely child, deeply preoccupied with his inner psychic world. From an early age he experienced visions of the supernatural, such as a faintly luminous figure with a detached head that appeared to emanate from his mother’s bedroom. He soon came to regard himself as “a solitary, because I know things and must hint at things which other people do not know, and usually do not even want to know …. Loneliness does not come from having no people about one, but from being unable to communicate the things that seem important to oneself, or from holding certain views which others find inadmissible” (Jung, 1961/1965, pp. 42, 356; see also pp. 18-19). Jung became attracted to the fledgling field of psychiatry during his medical studies at the University of Basel, where he received his degree in 1900. Some of his professors were amazed and disappointed by his choice, but Jung was convinced that he had found his true calling. He became absorbed with the occult, participated in experiments with mediums, and devoured books on parapsychology. In addition to his visions, various experiences appeared to confirm the existence of the supernatural: A solid table and a steel knife in his parents’ home inexplicably shattered into pieces by themselves. He made up a supposedly imaginary story to entertain a group, only to find that he was clairvoyantly revealing true and intimate secrets about a man he did not know. And the morning after being awakened by a sharp headache, he discovered that one of his patients had that night shot himself in the back of the skull (lung, 1961/1965, pp. 51,105-106,109,137,206). Jung first worked at the famed Burgholzli Psychiatric Hospital in Zurich under the direction of Eugen Bleuler, who coined the term schizophrenia and was well known for his work on this disorder. There he developed the word association test and remained until 1909, when he departed to concentrate on his growing private practice. In 1903 he married Emma Rauschenbach, who also became his collaborator and leamed to apply his psychotherapeutic methods. The marriage was basically successful, with the Jungs having four daughters and a son. But no one woman could make up for the emotional deprivations of Carl’s childhood. During middle age he entered into a lengthy affair with a young, attractive, and well-educated former patient, Toni Wolff. He even drew Toni into his family life, making her a regular guest for Sunday dinner. Emma ultimately decided to accept this situation, and Carl kept both his mistress and his family. (See Stem, 1976/1977.) Jung read The Interpretation of Dreams upon its publication in 1900, and he began what proved to be a lengthy correspondence with Freud in 1906. The two men met a year later, and were so captivated with each other that they talked continuously for 13 hours. Unfortunately, the union of the two giants was based on a fundamental misconception that eventually destroyed the relationship. Freud was seeking disciples who would carry forth the psychoanalytic banner and he saw Jung as his crown prince and successor. Jung, on the other hand, regarded his association with Freud as a collaboration that left both sides free to pursue their own ideas. It was inevitable that Jung would view Freud’s insistence on the universality of the Oedipus complex and the sexual nature of libido as dogmatism, whereas Freud would see Jung’s attempts to develop his own theory as a betrayal. For some years, Jung did follow in Freud’s footsteps. Jung defended Freud’s ideas, accompanied him to the United States as an invited lecturer at Clark University in 1909, became a psychoanalyst and taught this subject at the University of Zurich, and served as the first president of the International Psychoanalytic Association. But Jung had to be his own man. His analysis of the delusions and hallucinations of psychotic patients at the Burgholzli had persuaded him of the frequent occurrence of universal archetypes, and he came to view the human personality quite differently from Freud. When Jung continued to argue for his own constructs, the breach with Freud became irreparable-a trying experience that occasioned two fainting spells on Freud’s part, and more than a little anguish on Jung’s. The formal parting came in 1913, with Jung also resigning from the International Psychoanalytic Association in 1914. Jung now turned to the solitude of his home, a large and beautiful edifice of his own design in Ktisnacht (a suburb of Zurich), where he was to live for the rest of his life. Here he spent the years from 1913 to 1919 in relative isolation, probing the depths of his own unconscious. He conversed with voices from within his psyche, including a female that he interpreted as his anima and a group of ghosts that he believed to be souls returning from the dead (Jung, 1961/1965, pp. 170-199). He observed many archetypes emerging into his consciousness, and felt that he was going through the process of individuation and discovering his self. He also suffered symptoms of emotional disturbance, suggesting that this experience was similar to the “creative illness” undergone by Freud (Ellenberger, 1970, p. 672). To avoid succumbing to psychosis, Jung forced himself to retain close ties with his family and patients and scrupulously fulfilled his commitments to the external world. He emerged from this period of introspection in 1919 with a firm belief in the universal validity of the constructs that he developed. Jung was now widely admired as an unusually skilled psychotherapist, attracting patients from England and the United States. He was an active and vigorous man, over six feet tall and broad-shouldered, interested in sailing and mountain climbing as well as scholarly pursuits, a good listener and fine conversationalist, and a democratic man at ease with all types of people. Like Freud, however, Jung’s personality was complex and multifaceted. Some saw him as wise, sensitive, and caring, whereas others viewed him as cantankerous, womanizing, sarcastic (even brutal), and highly critical and condescending toward others–especially those who failed to meet his high standards of scholarship. (See Brome, 1978; Stem, 1976/1977, pp. 181-182.) In 1923, Jung built a primitive, towerlike house in nearby Bollingen, which served as a place for reflection and meditation. He also traveled extensively and observed a variety of peoples and cultures, including the Pueblo Indians of New Mexico and tribes in Tunis, Kenya, Uganda, and India. World War II sharpened his interest in world politics and mass psychoses and also brought charges that he was pro-Nazi and anti-Semitic, which ultimately proved to be unjustified. In 1944, Jung nearly died from a heart attack, had a vision of his soul leaving his body, and at first felt bitter disappointment upon returning to life. He also predicted that his doctor would die in his place, which actually happened shortly thereafter. Jung now became the “wise old man of Kiisnacht,” with people coming from all over the world to visit him. His many honors include the City of Zurich Award for literature and honorary doctorates from Harvard and Oxford, and his prolific writings fill some 20 volumes. Jung died in his Kiisnacht home on June 6, 1961. Jung called his theory analytical psychology. Despite the similarity of names (and of some of the constructs), analytical psychology is substantially different from Freudian psychoanalysis. Instincts and Psychic Energy Libido and Value. Jung agrees with Freud that humans are motivated by innate physiological urges (instincts), which he defines as inborn and regularly recurring modes of action and reaction (Jung, 1919/1971c, p. 54; 1921/1976, p. 376). He also concurs that mental activity is powered by psychic energy (libido). But Jung rejects Freud’s emphasis on sexuality: I am no opponent of Freud’s; I am merely presented in that light by his own short -sightedness and that of his pupils. No experienced psychiatrist can deny having met with dozens of cases whose psychology answers in all essentials to that of Freud …. I do not mean to deny the importance of sexuality in psychic life, though Freud stubbornly maintains that I do deny it. What I seek is to set bounds to the rampant terminology of sex which vitiates all discussion of the human psyche, and to put sexuality itself in its proper place …. Eros is certainly always and everywhere present. … but the psyche is not just [that] [Therefore] I do not connect any specifically sexual definition with the word “libido.” [This term] is used by me in much wider sense. (Jung, 1928/l969a, p. 30; 1917/1972d, pp. 46, 52n.6; 1929/l975c, pp. 226, 230. See also Jung, 1911-1912; 1961/1965, pp. 168,209.) Jungian libido refers to the psychic energy that is invested in a mental event, regardless of the instinct(s) involved. The greater the amount of libido (value), the more the event is desired. Even a child readily begins to form different values, as by weighing whether the mother or the father is more preferred, what objects in the environment are liked or disliked more than others, and so forth. Jung’s construct of “value” is therefore similar to Freud’s concept of “cathexis,” except that cathexes are invariably sexual (in one sense or another) although values need not be. In an extremely competitive society like our own, some people may value power so highly that they direct most of their psychic energy toward professional success and become sexually impotent. Freud would take a dim view of such behavior, since (sexual) libido is denied its most satisfactory outlet. But Jungian libido includes energy from many sources, so discharging it in a quest for power is neither more nor less pathological than discharging it in sexual activity. “The shoe that fits one person pinches another; there is no universal recipe for living” (Jung, 1931/1933b, p. 41; see also Jung, cited by Evans, 1976, p. 46). It is difficult to identify all of the human instincts, and to ascertain the exact nature of libido, because instinctual behavior is easily confused with our conscious motives. A partial list of instincts includes nutrition (hunger and thirst), sexuality, power, activity (including the love of change, the urge to travel, and play), becoming whole or one’s true self (individuation), and creativity (Jung, 1917/1972d; 1919/1971c, p. 53; 1937). Jung also differs sharply with Freud by concluding that human beings have an inborn religious need, and the idea of God is absolutely necessary: Man positively needs general ideas and convictions that will give a meaning to his life and enable him to find a place for himself in the universe. He can stand the most incredible hardships when he is convinced that they make sense; he is crushed when, on top of all his misfortunes, he has to admit that he is taking part in a “tale told by an idiot.” (Jung, 1964/1968, p. 76. See also Jung, 1957/1958b, p. 36; 1917/1972d, pp. 27, 71; 1929/1975c, p. 227.) Complexes. Psychic energy attracts constellations of related and emotionally charged ideas, or complexes. (See Jung, 1934a; 1938/1970a, pp. 19ff.) For example, the group of thoughts and feelings that concern “mother” cluster together to form the mother-complex, whereas the complex relating to “I” or “myself’ constitutes the component of personality known as the ego. The power of a complex to attract psychic material depends on the amount of libido at its disposal (its value). A weak mother-complex possesses little psychic energy (low value), includes only a small quantity of associated ideas, and has relatively little influence on behavior. Alternatively, a mother-complex may be so powerful that it dominates the psyche like a large electromagnet, attracting ideas that belong elsewhere. Such highly valued complexes can exert considerable control over one’s personality. For example, a man ruled by his mothercomplex may be unable to form satisfying heterosexual relationships because he is far more concerned about her wishes and opinions. He may also talk about his mother at length, make her the subject of various slips of the tongue, and constantly dream of mother-symbols. Complexes may be wholly or partly conscious, or they may be entirely within either of the two realms of the unconscious (personal and collective, to be discussed below). (See Jung, 1928/1969a, p. 11; Fordham, 1966, pp. 23-23.) The Word Association Test. Jung cautions that the construct of libido is useful only if quantitative differences in values can be estimated. Otherwise this approach can never become scientific and must be abandoned. For a time Jung measured the power of a complex by using the word association test, wherein a list of single words is read one at a time and the subject must reply with the first word that comes to mind. (See Jung, 1910; 1928/1969a, p. 9; 1905/1974e). For example, the stimulus word “mother” might well evoke the response of “father.” After the list has been completed, the participant goes through it once again and tries to recall the previous responses. If a series of related words in the list should cause such signs of disturbance as significant hesbecoming pale or having a markedly itations, unusual responses (e.g. “mother”-”anger”), increased pulse rate, or failing to recall the original responses during the retest, this would indicate the existence of an important (and probably troublesome) complex. Jung eventually abandoned this technique, however, concluding that anyone who wants to know the human psyche will learn next to nothing from experimental psychology. He would be better advised to abandon exact science, put away his scholar’s gown, bid farewell to his study, and wander with human heart through the world. There, in the horrors of prisons, lunatic asylums and hospitals, in drab suburban pubs … he would reap richer stores of knowledge than textbooks a foot thick could give him, and he will know how to doctor the sick with real knowledge of the human soul. (Jung, 1912/1972f, pp. 246-247. See also Ellenberger, 1970, pp. 691-694; Jung, 1957/1958b, pp. 61-62.) The Principle of Opposites To Jung, life consists of “a complex of inexorable opposites”: day and night, birth and death, happiness and misery, good and evil, introversion (inner-directedness) and extraversion (outer-directedness), consciousness and unconsciousness, thinking and feeling, love and hate, and so forth. Such contradictory ideas, emotions, and instincts exist simultaneously within the psyche, producing a tension that creates psychic energy and enables life to exist. “There is no energy unless there is a tension of opposites …. Life is born only of the spark of opposites” (Jung, 1917/1972d, pp. 53-54; see also Jung, 1964/1968, p. 75; 1928/1972e, p. 142). When any extreme is primarily conscious, the unconscious compensates by emphasizing the other extreme. The psyche is for the most part a closed system, so libido withdrawn from one aspect of personality normally reappears somewhere else (the principle of equivalence). The psyche is also a self-regulating system wherein libido flows from a more intense to a less intense component, just as heat flows from a warmer to a colder body (the principle of entropy). Sooner or later, therefore, any overvalued component will yield psychic energy to its undervalued counterpart. Thus the (unconscious) opposite is likely to emerge in the course of time, a tendency Jung refers to as enantiodromia. For example, intense love may eventually give way to profound hate, or a rational and skeptical scientist may turn to mysticism and the occult. Values are particularly likely to undergo radical changes as we grow from the morning of youth to the afternoon of middle age, with religious needs gaining ascendance while material and sexual urges become less important (Jung, 1917/1972d, pp. 74-75; see also Jung, 1928/1969a, pp. 18,25; 1934/1974c, p. 101). The principle of opposites and enantiodromia imply that no personality is ever truly onesided. An individual who appears to be cold and lacking in sentiment will have warm and emotional characteristics, though these compensating tendencies may be unconscious and unobservable. “Extremes always arouse suspicion of their opposite” (Jung, 1917/1972d, p. 21). Furthermore, any extreme (introversion, extraversion, emotionality, rationality, or whatever) is harmful because it prevents the contradictory tendency from gaining satisfactory expression. The opposites must then waste libido in conflict with each other, as when the apparently unfeeling individual uses up psychic energy in a misguided attempt to suppress innate emotional instincts and repeal the principle of entropy. In a mature and well-adjusted personality, the various opposites are united through some middle path. This concept is common in Eastern philosophies, as with the Taoist symbols of Yin and Yang; but it is a difficult one for our Western culture, which has never even devised a name for it. lung proposes the term transcendent function for the process that unites the various opposing aspects of personality, particularly consciousness and unconsciousness, into a coherent middle ground. The transcendent function also provides us with guidelines for personal development that enable us to become our true selves-guidelines that cannot be found in the external world or opinions of other people. (See lung, 19l6/197le, pp. 298, 300; 1921/1976, p. 449; 1928/1972e, p. 205.) Teleology Whereas Freud stressed the childhood determinants of personality (causality), lung argues that behavior must also be understood in terms of its purpose or goal (teleology). Personality is shaped by our past and by our intentions and plans for the future: A man is only half understood when we know how everything in him came into being . . . . Life does not have only a yesterday, nor is it explained by reducing today to yesterday. Life has also a tomorrow, and today is understood only when we can add to our knowledge of what was yesterday the beginnings of tomorrow. (lung, 1917/1972d, p. 46. See also lung, 1921/1976, p. 431.) lung also rejects Freud’s contention that psychic events can be reduced to physiological causes. Instincts have an organic aspect, but mental life follows “a specific law of its own which cannot be deduced from the known physical laws of nature” (lung, 1947/l969b, p. 91; see also p. 90). lung readily accepts the existence of parapraxes, even contributing some specimens to Freud’s collection. (See Freud, 1901/1965c, p. 84; lung, 1927/1971b, p. 28; 1916/197le, p. 276; 1917/1972d, p. 115; 1928/1972e, pp. 177, 180.) In marked contrast to Freud, however, lung concludes that the unconscious is relatively autonomous and speaks to us of its own accord. The messages and wishes that emanate from the unconscious are events that happen to us, and are not caused by any actions of our own. Some people hear their unconscious as a voice within themselves and actually carryon a conversation with it, “as if a dialogue were taking place between two human beings with equal rights, each of whom gives the other credit for a valid argument.” But most of us do not allow this invisible partner of ours to make itself heard, for “we are so in the habit of identifying ourselves with the thoughts that come to us that we invariably assume we have made them” (lung, 1916/1971e, p. 297; 1928/1972e, p. 201). lung does agree with Freud about the importance of bringing unconscious material to consciousness, and about our reluctance to experience the dark side of our personality. So long as the unconscious strongly influences our behavior, we are not the masters of our own personality. Yet we turn away in fear from investigating our shadow-side, for it consists not just of minor weaknesses but of a “positively demonic dynamism” (lung, 1917/l972d, p. 30; see also lung, 1964/1968, p. 72; 1917/1972d, p. 26). Unlike Freud, however, lung does not regard the unconscious as a purely demoniacal monster. The unconscious includes wellsprings of creativity and sources of guidance that can suggest solutions when the conscious mind becomes hopelessly bogged down. “[The unconscious] has at its disposal … all those things which have been forgotten or overlooked, as well as the wisdom and experience of uncounted centuries” (Jung, 1917/1972d, p. 116; see also lung, 1931/1933b, pp. 61-62; lung, 1934/1974c, p. 100). A substantial part of the unconscious is collective, and contains predispositions and guidelines inherited from past generations. Only a smaller part results from repressions and other personal experiences unique to the individual. lung’s model of the psyche is considerably more chaotic than Freud’s. Complexes originating in the unconscious can gravitate to consciousness and exert control over the personality for purposes of their own, and unconscious components may fuse together rather than remaining separate and distinct. Consciousness in psychoanalytic theory is often depicted as the tip of a huge iceberg, with the unconscious represented by the vast portion below the water. Similarly, consciousness in analytical psychology resembles a small island rising from the midst of a vast sea (Jung, 1928/1969d, p. 41). The Ego. The ego is a complex of conscious ideas that constitutes the center of awareness. It includes feelings of continuity and identity, and begins to develop at about the fourth year of life. lung conceives of the ego as a relatively weak entity that is often at the mercy of more powerful forces, tossed like a shuttlecock between the demands of reality and those of the unconscious. However, it can consign threatening material to the (personal) unconscious by means of repression. (See lung, 1951; 1928/1972e, p. 196; 1921/1976, p. 425; lung, cited by Evans, 1976, pp. 60-61.) The Persona. We usually cannot afford to confront the world with our true feelings. Instead, we must fashion an outward appearance that will satisfy the demands of society. This protective fa~ade is a complex of conscious material called the persona, after the masks worn by ancient actors to signify the roles that they played. The persona helps us to deal with other people by indicating what may be expected from them. The doctor’s professional role is validated in the patient’s eyes by an appropriately reassuring manner, whereas the college professor is supposed to display a persona of expertise. If the doctor or professor violates these expectations by acting anxious and uncertain, this will provoke suspicion and resistance. In general, people with underdeveloped personas appear to be incompetent, boring, tactless, eternally misunderstood, and blind to the realities of the world. (See lung, 1928/1972e, pp. 198-199; lung, cited by Evans, 1976, p. 79.) The persona may instead become overdeveloped and intrude on the ego. For example, a mediocre doctor with false visions of greatness may present a pompous persona of excellence. In such instances, the ego misguidedly identifies with the persona and becomes inflated with a sense of excess importance: L’ hat c’ est moi is the motto for such people …. In vain would one look for a personality behind the husk. Underneath all the padding one would find a very pitiable little creature. That is why the office–or whatever this outer husk may be-is so attractive: it offers easy compensation for personal deficiencies. (Jung, 1928/1972e, pp. 143, 145; see also p. 156 n.l.) As would be expected from the principle of opposites, this conscious arrogance is compensated for by unconscious feelings of inferiority that cannot find satisfactory expression. The conflict between these extreme aspects of personality wastes libido that could better be used in the pursuit of healthy activities. The personal unconscious begins to form at birth, and contains material that is no longer (or is not yet) at the level of awareness. Some memories are simply forgotten because they are no longer important, many of which can easily be recalled to consciousness (such as the contents of last night’s dinner). Other material in the personal unconscious is repressed because of its painful nature. For example, a secretary who is jealous of one of her employer’s associates may habitually “forget” to invite this individual to meetings and never admit-not even to herself-the true reason for her omission. (See Jung, 1964/1968, p. 22; 1927/1971b, p. 38; 1917/1972d, pp. 64ff, 77; 1928/1972e, pp. 135ff.) Other aspects of mental life remain in the personal unconscious because they lack sufficient psychic energy to enter awareness. We often see, hear, taste, and smell things without noticing them because the sensory impressions are not strong enough (”subliminal perceptions”). A professor who was walking in the country with a student noticed that his thoughts were invaded by memories of his early childhood. He could not account for this distraction until he retraced his steps and realized that they had recently passed some geese, whose odor provided a subliminal reminder of a farm where he had lived as a youth. Similarly, a young woman once developed a blinding headache. Without consciously noticing it, she had heard the foghorn of a distant ship, which reminded her of an unhappy parting with a loved one (lung, 1964/1968, pp.2l-22). The Shadow. The shadow is the primitive and unwelcome side of personality that derives from our animal forebears. (See Jung, 1951.) It consists of material that is repressed into the personal unconscious because it is shameful and unpleasant, and it plays a compensatory role to the more positive persona and ego. The shadow’s power is evident when a person is overcome by violent and uncontrollable rage, a theme exemplified in literature by the dangerous Mr. Hyde underlying the implacable Dr. Jekyll. As with any construct in analytical psychology, the shadow must be at least somewhat beneficial in order to have survived generations of evolution. Like the Freudian id, it provides us with vitality and strength. “Too much of the animal distorts the civilized man, [but] too much civilization makes sick animals” (Jung, 1917/1972d, p. 28). Just as it is impossible to have sunshine without shadow, the light of consciousness must always be accompanied by the dark side of our personality. Rather than turn away in disgust from our shadow, we must open this Pandora’s box and accept its contents. Jung does not regard repression as actively maintained, so a person who honestly wishes to examine the shadow can do so, but this is a highly threatening task that most prefer to avoid. The shadow, like all that is unconscious, is projected onto other people. We normally experience it in this indirect fashion, with the characteristics that we find most objectionable in others very likely to be those aspects of ourselves that we most dislike. Thus another unfortunate effect of denying our shadow is that the resulting deeper repressions will trigger more powerful projections of our undesirable characteristics, producing greater dislike of other people-and possibly, culminating in the sick system of social relationships that constitutes neurosis. (See Jung, 1931/1933c, p. 142; 1935b, p. 24; 1951; 1957/1958b, pp. 109-114; 1964/1968, p. 73; 1917/1972d, p. 26.) Although the personal unconscious and the ego originate after birth, the newborn infant is far from a tabula rasa. Its psyche is a complicated, clearly defined entity consisting of the collective (or trans personal) unconscious, a storehouse of archaic remnants (”primordial images” or archetypes) inherited from our ancestral past. (See Jung, 1938/l970a, p. 11; 1919/1971c, p. 52; 1917/1972d, pp. 65-66; 1921/1976, p. 376.) Characteristics ofArchetypes. Archetypes result from the “deposits of the constantly repeated experiences of humanity” (Jung, 1917/1972d, p. 69). They differ from instincts in that they are modes of perception, rather than of action and reaction. That is, archetypes predispose us to perceive the world in certain ways. Archetypes resemble poorly formed channels in the psyche that may predispose libido to follow a certain course, but are too roughly hewn to ensure that it will actually do so. They are only potentialities, not specific memories or facts, and will remain dormant unless strengthened by appropriate experiences. “I do not by any means assert the inheritance of ideas, but only of the possibility of such ideas, which is something very different” (Jung, 1917/l972d, p. 65; see also Jung, 1938/1970a, pp. 13-17). Everyone inherits a tendency to fear objects that our ancestors found to be potentially dangerous, such as snakes, so it will be easier to learn to fear snakes than to fear flowers. But an individual who grows up enjoying only pleasant encounters with snakes will not be greatly affected by this archetype. The Persona and Shadow Archetypes. The persona and shadow have existed in the human psyche throughout countless generations. This is reflected by corresponding archetypes in the collective unconscious, so that we all inherit tendencies to form these components of personality. The Anima and Animus. All males and females possess some characteristics of the opposite sex. Man’s unconscious feminine disposition is due to the archetype known as the anima, whereas the male archetype in women is called the animus. The anima and animus develop from generations of exposure to the opposite sex, and imbue each sex with an innate understanding of the other. “The whole nature of man presupposes woman, both physically and spiritually. His system is tuned in to woman from the start” (Jung, 1928/1972e, p. 190; see also Jung, 1925/1971d; 1951). Typically, the feminine anima compensates for the outward masculine persona of power. Trying to deny this aspect of personality will result in a one-sided and conflicted individual, as when a man who prides himself on an overly virile persona is beset by feelings of weakness and moodiness. The masculine animus, on the other hand, produces unshakable and arbitrary convictions. The woman who suppresses her animus in a misguided attempt to appear extremely feminine will be troubled by spells of intense stubbornness (Jung, 1928/1972e, p. 206). The well-adjusted personality integrates the male and female attributes by means of the transcendent function, allowing both to find satisfactory expression. Other Archetypes. Other archetypes include the wise old man, the mother, the father, the child, the parents, the wife, the husband, God, the hero, various animals, energy, the self (the ultimate goal of personality development), the trickster, rebirth or reincarnation, the spirit, the prophet, the disciple, and numerous archetypes representative of situations. (See Jung, 1934b; 1940; 1938/1970a; 1940/1970b; 1945/1970c; 1954/1970d; 1917/1972d, pp. 68, 95, 110; 1928/1972e, pp. 171, 178, 190.) However, Jung advises against trying to understand the CAPSULE Analytical psychology Anima SUMMARY Jungian Terminology (I) Some Important The female archetype in man. Predisposes man to understand the nature of woman, is sentimental, and compensates for the powerful male persona. The male archetype in woman. Predisposes woman to understand the nature of man, is powerful, and compensates for the sentimental female persona. A predisposition to perceive the world in certain ways that is inherited from past generations; not a specific idea or belief. Is much the same across different cultures (a “universal thought form”) and is in the collective unconscious: Archetypes include the anima, animus, shadow, persona, mother, father, and many others. The tendency of one part of personality to balance or adjust for another part. For example, the unconscious will compensate for pronounced conscious introversion by emphasizing the quality of extraversion. A constellation of related and emotionally charged thoughts, feelings, or ideas. A complex varies in strength according to the amount of psychic energy at its disposal (its value), and may be conscious or unconscious (or both). Enantiodromia Inflation The tendency of any characteristic to eventually turn into its opposite. Expansion of the ego beyond its proper limits, resulting in feelings of exaggerated self-importance. Usually compensated for by unconscious feelings of inferiority. An inborn physiological urge. The instincts include hunger, thirst, sexuality, power, individuation, activity, creativity, morality, and religious needs. Libido Numinosum Principle of entropy Principle of equivalence Principle of opposites Projection Psychic energy Repression A synonym for psychic energy; not necessarily sexual. A profoundly moving experience with spiritual, mystical, and religious aspects. The tendency for psychic energy to flow from a more highly valued to a less highly valued part of personality, just as heat flows from a warmer to a colder body. The tendency for psychic energy that is withdrawn from one part of personality to reappear elsewhere within the psyche. Thus the psyche is for the most part a closed system. The belief that personality consists of many contradictory ideas, emotions, and instincts, and the spark of life is created from the tension between these extremes. Unconsciously attributing one’s own threatening impulses, emotions, or beliefs to other people or things. Similar to Freud’s use of the term. The “fuel” that powers all mental activity; an unobservable, abstract construct. Unconsciously eliminating threatening material from consciousness and relegating it to the personal unconscious. Not actively maintained (as in Freudian theory), so repressed material may be recovered fairly easily. A representation of something vague and unknown, such as an archetype. A process that joins various opposing forces into a coherent middle ground, and furthers the course of individuation by providing personal lines of development that could not be reached by adhering to collective norms. The amount of psychic energy that is invested in a mental event. The greater the value, the more the event is preferred or desired. A procedure for determining the strength of a complex. The tester reads a list of words, one at a time, and the respondent answers with the first word that comes to mind. The stronger the complex, the more likely are unusual responses, hesitations, and physiological changes. Symbol Transcendent function Word association test CAPSULE SUMMARY The Structure of Personality Oung) The ego: a complex of conscious ideas that constitutes the center of awareness, and provides feelings of identity and continuity. Begins to develop at about the fourth year of life. The persona: the outward face of personality; a protective fayade that conceals one’s true inner nature in order to meet the demands of society. Facilitates contacts with people by indicating what may be expected from them. The collective (transpersonal) unconscious: a storehouse of inherited predispositions to perceive the world in certain ways (archetypes); thus, present at birth. The deepest, most inaccessible layer of the psyche. Includes the persona and shadow archetypes (among others), which facilitate the development of the corresponding representations elsewhere in the personality. The personal unconscious: includes material that has been forgotten, repressed, or perceived subliminally. The layer between the collective unconscious and consciousness; begins to form at birth. Includes the primitive, guilt-laden, unwelcome aspects of personality (the shadow). nature of archetypes by memorizing such a list. Archetypes are autonomous events that come upon us like fate, and they must be experienced firsthand in order to be understood. Unfortunately, Jung has no simple remedy for those who remain skeptical about analytical psychology because they have never enjoyed such enriching encounters with the collective unconscious. “You can only say that you have never had such an experience, and your opponent will say: ‘Sorry, I have.’ And there your discussion will come to an end” (lung, 1938, p. 113). He does recommend learning more about one’s personal unconscious, which will weaken the layer above the collective unconscious and make archetypal images more accessible to consciousness. Archetypal Symbols. We never become aware of archetypes themselves, which always remain within the inaccessible collective unconscious. But the collective unconscious is like the base of a volcano that extends to the core of personality and occasionally erupts, shooting archetypal images or symbols up to the surface. Unlike such common signs as words and pictures, which merely denote the objects to which they are attached, archetypal symbols imply something that is hidden from us. Since they are produced entirely by the unconscious, they have a numinous or fascinating quality that clearly identifies them as something out of the ordinary. (See Jaffe, 1971/1975, p. 16; Jung, 1964/1968, pp. 3,41; 1917/1972d, p. 70; Progoff, 1953/1973, p. 56.) Symbols derived from the same archetype may differ in form and content, especially to the extent that they are influenced by racial, cultural, and even family differences. “There is also a collective psyche limited to race, tribe, and family over and above the ‘universal’ collective psyche” (lung, 1928/1972e, pp. 147-148).2 But such symbols all point back to one basic form, the underlying universal archetype. For this reason, the unconscious processes of widely separated races show a remarkable correspondence. The archetype of the universal creative mother is expressed in such varied cultural myths as Mother Nature, Greek and Roman goddesses, and the “Grandmother” of Native Americans. lung was once advised by a psychotic patient that the sun possesses a phallus, whose movement creates the wind; and when he later encountered the same unusual symbology in an ancient Greek papyrus, which the patient could never have seen, he attributed the similar imagery to an unconscious universal archetype. He also cites the production of archetypal symbols by children as further support for his theory, since it often seems clear that they could not have had access to the relevant facts and must therefore have produced the images from their own psyche. (See lung, 1964/1968, p. 61; 1938/1970a; 1927/1971b, pp. 36-37; 1917/1972d, p. 96; Progoff, 1953/1973, pp. 59-60.) The collective unconscious is widely regarded as an extremely controversial construct. Yet even Freud, a staunch opponent of analytical psychology, accepted the idea of an “archaic heritage that a child brings with him into the world, before any experiences of his own, influenced by the experiences of his ancestors” (Freud, 1940/1969a, p. 24; see also Freud, 1916-1917/1966, p. 371; 1939; Rieff, 1959/1961, p. 220). Although lung does not posit specific stages of development, he does draw a sharp distinction between youth and middle age. During childhood the ego, the personal unconscious, and other parts of personality gradually develop into separate entities. This process continues through puberty, which is when the sexual drive begins, and into young adulthood. Our early years are like the rising sun, which “gains continually in strength until it reaches the zenith-heat of high noon. Then comes the enantiodromia: the steady forward movement no longer denotes an increase, but a decrease, in strength” (lung, 1917/1972d, p. 74; see also lung, 1930-1931/1971a, pp. 14-15; 1913/1975a, pp. 3