Journal of Analytical Psychology, 2008, 53, 481–499

Some brief considerations on the relationship

between theory and practice

Angela Connolly, Rome

Abstract: The present crisis in models of training and in psychoanalytical education in

general can be linked to the gulf that has come to be created between analytical theory
and clinical practice. The paper 1 examines the historical facts that have led to this split
and suggests the need to return to the models of Freud and Jung. Both these fathers of
depth psychology stressed the dangers inherent in the dogmatic use of theory and both
insisted that theory must always spring from and be able to account for clinical practice
rather than vice versa, as is so often the case today. The paper also looks at how theory
should be taught in our analytical institutes in order to ensure that what we transmit to
our candidates is not knowledge in the form of dogma but rather a way of proceeding
that will enable them to think creatively about their clinical practice and thus produce
new knowledge, essential if depth psychology is to remain relevant to our post-modern
culture.

Key words: analytical training, clinical practice, training method, teaching theory,
analytic theory

Introduction
Over the last few decades we have witnessed an increasingly profound crisis
in psychoanalysis and analytical psychology, a crisis that has manifested itself
on the one hand in the tendency to question if psychoanalytical theory and
practice are still culturally relevant, and on the other, in an internal crisis
of psychoanalytical knowledge itself, one effect of which is the explosion of
different and competing analytical theories. At the same time there seems to
be an increasing feeling among Freudian and Jungian analysts that something
seems to have gone wrong in the way in which we transfer our theories and our
clinical skills to future analysts. What I want to suggest in this brief paper is that
one of the reasons for this crisis is the way in which the relationship between
our theories, our method, and our practice has gradually and imperceptibly
changed from the beginnings of depth psychology. What I propose to do is to

1 This is an amended version of a paper presented at a workshop in Montreal at the Journal of

Analytical Psychology’s Conference, ‘Jungian Analytic Training for the 21st Century. New Contexts
and New Directions’, in June 2006.

0021–8774/2008/5304/481 
C 2008, The Society of Analytical Psychology
Published by Blackwell Publishing Ltd, 9600 Garsington Road, Oxford OX4 2DQ, UK and 350 Main Street, Malden, MA 02148, USA.
482 Angela Connolly

give a brief description of this crisis, to present an historical overview of models

of training, to put forward some general considerations on the relationship
between theory and practice in the light of the post-modern critique of theory,
to look at the epistemological status of analytical theory and changes that have
occurred in the relationship between analytical theory and practice and finally
to suggest what we can do to improve the way in which we impart knowledge
to our candidates.
First however I will define the terms I will be utilizing. Theory is a process of
abstraction and conceptualization whose function is to ‘rationalize, to explain
and to master’ (Popper 1959, p. 59) while practice refers to an activity aimed
at the realization of something concrete but it can also be related to the Greek
notion of phronesis, a kind of accumulated wisdom based on past trial and
error. Method, according to Arnold Goldberg, is ‘a collection of rules which, if
properly followed, should lead, by a sort of internal logic, to a correct endpoint’
(Goldberg 2001, p. 123), while technique on the other hand, as Vassalli (2001,
p. 19) has pointed out derives from Aristotle’s notion of techne or ars, the
name given to that skilful activity (poesis) that accomplishes its purpose in the
production of a particular work that is never already given but which can or
cannot appear and in which the certainty of success is always in doubt. In
techne, method and theory emerge from the thoughtful examination of the way
in which the production of the work is carried out.

The crisis in training

Over the past few decades, the perception of a crisis in psychoanalysis has
being growing. The extent and nature of this crisis is attested by the 1997
finding of an ad-hoc committee set up by the IPA which listed seven different
aspects of it: 1) crisis of psychoanalysis as theory and technique attributable
to the post-modern theoretical flux and the rise of the ‘new’ pathologies; 2)
crisis of psychoanalytical identity; 3) a crisis of psychoanalytical institutes;
4) decrease in the number of patients being treated in classical analysis;
5) decline of interest in psychoanalytical training; 6) severe decline in teaching of
psychoanalysis in universities, medical schools etc; 7) demoralization, anguish,
paralysis (Engelbrecht 1997, p. 55).
Of course these findings are related only to psychoanalysis, but I am sure that
many Jungians will identify with these descriptions. If this crisis is often linked
to changing socio-economic factors, it is becoming increasingly clear that the
true reasons lie more in the domain of psychoanalytical knowledge. On the one
hand, as Rocha Barros has pointed out, the loss of the prestige of psychoanalysis
is linked to ‘a huge cultural crisis originating within the social order . . . which
is hostile to self-reflective thought . . . We cannot ignore this post-modern crisis
when we think about the extent of the damage it does to our field’. On the other
there is a concomitant crisis in psychoanalytical knowledge itself due to the
failure in ‘maintaining the inspirational position with which . . . psychoanalysis
Brief considerations on the relationship between theory and practice 483

first came upon the intellectual scene as a source of an exciting new knowledge’
(1998, p. 29).
This crisis in knowledge is increasingly linked to failures and deficiencies
in the models of psychoanalytical training and education. Kernberg in three
provocative papers emphasizes the pernicious effects of the training offered
by institutes whose organizational structure seems ‘to correspond best to the
combination of a technical school and a theological seminary’ (1984, p. 59)
in which all too often, the main objective seems to be that of acquiring ‘well-
proven knowledge regarding psychoanalysis to avoid its dilution, distortion,
deterioration and misuse’ rather than that of helping ‘students to acquire what
is known in order to develop new knowledge’ (1996, p. 1039).
Kernberg feels that the authoritarian atmosphere of training institutes is
linked in part to the role of the training analyst that all too often degenerates
‘into an organizational status system as part of an oligarchical administrative
structure that controls psychoanalytical institutes’ (2000, p. 98). Casement
too links the problems in training and the fact that so many candidates feel
infantilized during training to ‘the power differential between training analysts
and students in training (2005, p. 1143).
From the other side of the fence, descriptions by candidates of their training
experience, strengthens these hypotheses. Buzzone et al. (1985) suggest that
while there is an inevitable conflict in any training between the level of the
personal analysis with its regression and its transference dynamics and the
level of theoretical and clinical training which require a certain maturity, this
conflict can be accentuated if there is a an excessive attitude of protection
and caution towards the candidate on the part of teachers and supervisors
and a failure to accept full pedagogic responsibility. All these authors link the
difficulties experienced in training to the models of training utilized by our
institutions.

Models of training
Most models of training actually in use are derived from the so-called
Eitingon model with its tripartite structure of training analysis, supervision
and theoretical and clinical seminars. Over the years however this model of
training has led to the creation in psychoanalytical institutes and societies of
what Kernberg calls a ‘three-tier class system’: a ruling upper class of training
analysts who dominate the institute controlling all aspects of training; a middle
class of non-training analysts; a third class of candidates in training (2000,
p. 100).
The awareness of a crisis in training has led to the proposal of two alternative
models of training: the so-called French model and the model of Kächele and
Thomä (1998). The French model, described by Kernberg (2000, pp. 104–7),
aimed at separating the training analysis from the rest of the training in order
to reduce dependency and limit the real influence of the training analyst on the
484 Angela Connolly

life of the analysand. In the full version of the French model, centralized control
of the curriculum is abolished and the candidate has the freedom to choose
the curriculum best suited to his or her needs. Quality control and the decision
about qualification depend entirely on the supervision.
Many institutes today, while not adapting the full French model, have
introduced important corrections in their training. ‘Reporting’ by training
analysts for example has been eliminated by many societies today, the analyst
limiting him or herself to certifying the number of hours. In the same way
many societies, recognizing as Kernberg puts it ‘the divisive and corrupting
features of the traditional selection of training analysts’ (2000, p. 101), have
tried to make the process of selection more democratic and open, or have
eliminated completely the category of training analysts. Again many societies
today have tried to render their curriculum more flexible and to involve non-
training analysts with specific qualifications in the teaching process, while at the
same time encouraging candidates to develop their own organizations in order
to develop the group process and give them more say in training.
Further modifications have been put forward by Kächele and Thomä in their
1998 memorandum on psychological education, where they suggest that the
Eitingon tripartite model is really a degeneration of the original model as
conceived of by Freud and Eitingon when they set up the Berlin Poliklinik
as a research and teaching institute offering free psychotherapy for the masses.
Kächele and Thomä stress the need to re-introduce the classical triad of teaching,
treatment and research in order to combat excessive authoritarianism and
to revivify psychoanalytical training and knowledge. They stress the need to
preserve the autonomy of the personal analysis and to limit the power of the
institute over the length of the training analysis. As Thomä says, ‘There is
every indication that the present day crisis of psychoanalysis is an indirect
consequence of a training system, which over the past 40 years or so, has ever
more extended the length of training analysis and given it a central position in
the training’ (1993, p. 11).
Auchinloss and Michels too stress the need to introduce research into training
programmes: ‘The requirement for ongoing comparison between hypotheses,
concepts and observables that underlie the spirit of empirical research would
serve to counter the defensive use of ‘authoritarianism’ in psychological
education that reflects both epistemological arrogance and epistemological
despair with regard to psychological knowledge’ (2003, p. 400).
Although the institution of training institutes was long resisted by Jung
because of his realization of the opposition between the institutional demands
of training and the analytical aim of individuation, nevertheless, the increasing
pressure to provide a professional and standardized training, necessary if
analytical psychology was to be able to survive and compete with other schools
of depth psychology, led him to acquiesce in the setting up of the first training
institutes. In both the Society of Analytical Psychology founded in 1946 and
the C.G. Jung institute of Zürich founded in 1947, the basic model of training
Brief considerations on the relationship between theory and practice 485

was once again that of Eitingon, ‘personal analysis, study, practical casework’
(Hillman 1962, p. 3) and the same problems of authoritarianism, theoretical
dogmatism, and a power differential between training analysts and candidates,
gradually made themselves felt.
Today, many Jungian institutes have adopted some of the modifications
described above in the attempt to improve training. In my own institute, for
example, we have eliminated the categories of training analyst and supervisor
and any member of the society who possesses sufficient requisites can apply to
the teaching faculty. In the same way the officers and the training commission
are elected by the analysts of the institute. Nevertheless despite the undoubtedly
positive effects of more democratic processes and greater transparency in
our organizational structures, we still have to recognize that there remains
something in the way our institutes work that is in need of critical revision.
As La Capra says, institutions (in the largest sense) are normative modes of
‘binding’ with variable relationships to more ecstatic, sublime, or uncanny
modes of ‘unbinding’. They require repetitive performances which may become
compulsive but may also facilitate exchanges’. The trouble today is that there is
an imbalance between modes of binding and modes of unbinding and the result
is that as Herrmann points out, ‘very little progress has been made since Freud’s
time in establishing a general science of the psyche based on Freud’s method of
discovery’ (2001, p. 82).
The same is equally true of our Jungian institutes. This is principally due to the
fact that what is transmitted in training institutes is not Freud’s or Jung’s way of
using practice to create theory but the knowledge they thereby produced ‘which
is handed down in the form of doctrine, defined as theory presented as psychic
fact’ (Hermann 2001, p. 57). In the same way what is taught is not technique as
techne but as method. There is a split between theory (both metapsychological
and clinical) and practice and what I now propose to look at is the post-modern
critique of the relationship between theory and practice and to trace out some
of the historical reasons for this split.

Post-modern status of theory

Post-modernism is characterized by the refusal of the grand metanarratives of
modernity and the critique of the abstracting and universalizing tendency of
theory which is traced back to the classical Greek meaning of theoria as that
emotionally detached and distanced contemplation of the world from afar. The
self-referential primacy of theory has been increasingly challenged from various
vertexes. Adorno in Negative Dialectics criticizes theory on the basis of the
irreducible particularity of objects and suggests that the procedures of theory-
making such as abstraction, subsumption and analogizing from paradigmatic
examples, all too often dominate and overwhelm the object rather than reveal
its meaning. Other authors oppose theory in the name of experience, whether in
reference to the irreducible subjective bias of the observer, or in reference to the
486 Angela Connolly

priority of objective (intersubjective) experience, the ‘hard facts’ of empirical

evidence (Jay 1998, pp. 24–25).
Perhaps the most virulent attacks however come from those who challenge
theory in the name of practice. Indicative of this kind of attack on theory
tout court is the provocative challenge issued by the neopragmatists Michaels
and Knapps in Against Theory where they criticize the idea that knowledge
can be separated from beliefs and that it is possible to stand outside one’s
beliefs, defining theory as merely ‘the name for all the ways people have tried
to stand outside practice in order to govern practice from without’ (1985,
p. 30).
Nevertheless, even if we acknowledge the incompleteness of any act of
theorizing, of the impossibility of attributing transcendence to theory, it is
equally true that as Jay states, ‘no possibility of self-sufficient immanence
exists on the level of practice, experience, hermeneutic interpretation, narrative
intelligibility or empirical facticity’ (1998, p. 27). Practice and theory cannot
exist without each other but what is relevant is the kind of relationship we
establish between the two. As Heidegger stresses, speaking of the Greek theoria:
‘It was not their wish to bring practice into line with theory, but the other way
round: to understand theory as the supreme realization of genuine practice’
(1991, pp. 31–32).
Freudian metapsychology is undoubtedly modernist in its pretence to the
status of a transcendent metanarrative and it is exactly this pretence that has
led so many post-modern thinkers to challenge its assumptions. As Françoise
Meltzer (1987) writes: ‘psychoanalysis, in considering all aspects of the human
sciences as aspects of itself, can be said not only to be narcissistic (at best a
weak, uninteresting criticism) but therefore to erase difference—difference not
only between the intellectual disciplines but between modes of thinking’.
The situation with Jung’s theorizing is much more complex. Jung is post-
modern in his insistence on the relativity of all psychological theories, ‘every
theory of psychic processes has to submit to being evaluated in its turn as a
psychic process’ (1921, p. 459), in his suspicion of totalizing narratives, in his
decentred model of the psyche as a series of complexes in which the ego is
only one complex among many, in his tendency to privilege direct experience
over theory and method. Nevertheless he too takes a modernist stance when
he creates his own metanarrative through his theorizing about the archetypes
as universal and atemporal structures, a kind of natural bedrock for the psyche
(Hauke 2000).
In both schools of depth psychology this universalizing tendency has led
on the one hand to a colonializing tendency towards other disciplines which
produces a difficulty of entering into constructive dialogue and an increasing
intellectual isolation, and on the other, to the failure to use our clinical
observation of what goes on in our practice to advance knowledge and improve
our method.
Brief considerations on the relationship between theory and practice 487

The epistemological status of analytical theory

Psychoanalysis was born from Freud’s ‘discovery’ of the unconscious and his
theorizing about a specific experience, the transference. For Freud, and even
more so for Jung, the unconscious was not a fact but merely a hypothesis, and
every time we speak of the unconscious as though it is an external fact we are
performing an illegitimate operation from the point of view of epistemology. As
Roustang says, ‘to speak of knowledge about the unconscious, or knowledge
of the unconscious, is simply a methodological absurdity, an epistemological
blunder’ (2000, p. 42).
We cannot think or theorize the unconscious, which as Jung has taught us,
is always radically ‘other’ with respect to consciousness. Bion says much the
same thing when he states that ‘this is a characteristic of the mental domain:
it cannot be contained within the framework of analytical theory. Is this a
sign of defective theory, or a sign that psychoanalysts do not understand that
psycho-analysis cannot be contained permanently within the definitions they
use?’ (1970, pp. 72–73).
In the face of this impossibility of knowing the unconscious, we can only
strive to imagine it, to construct imaginary hypotheses and all our theories are
nothing but mythologies, which often tell us more about the psychology of
the inventor than about the nature of the unconscious. In Jung’s words, ‘every
theory of psychic processes has to submit to being evaluated in its turn as a
psychic process, as the expression of a specific type of human psychology with
its own justification (1921, p. 495). In this context Wittgenstein’s comment on
The Interpretation of Dreams is illuminating:
Freud refers to various ancient myths . . . and claims that these researches have now
explained how it came about that anybody should think or propound a myth of that
sort. Whereas in fact Freud has done something different. What he has done is to
propound a new myth.
(Wittgenstein 1966, p. 51)
Nevertheless we cannot do without theories in our clinical practice, and when
we train our candidates as Roustang comments:
If psychoanalysis were to renounce its efforts to be a transmissible science, it would
inevitably fall into occultism and magic . . . and our (clinical) practice would fall back
into the unsayable and the ineffable . . . any therapeutic effect would be reduced to
personal power, to the qualities of the analyst.
(Roustang 1982, pp. 60–61)
At this point we are faced with a paradox: if we wish to construct a scientific
psychology then our theories must possess what Carlo Strenger (1991) terms
external coherence, that is to say, there must be an absence of contradiction
between the text and scientifically accepted sciences and between the text and the
causal ontology implicit in the theories that are generally accepted by scientific
culture. If on the other hand we wish to remain faithful to the encounter with
the unconscious, our theories can only emerge from, and remain faithful to,
488 Angela Connolly

our clinical practice, that is to say, as Innamorati and Trevi suggest, they must
possess internal coherence. To possess internal coherence, a theory must be
capable of accounting for the empirical evidence, it must be able to explain
the facts to which it refers, which in the case of analysis is everything that
happens in the setting, without falsification (Innamorati & Trevi 2002; my
translation).
The problem that faces us is that often the effort to render a theory scientific
implies that it is no longer capable of rendering justice to the facts that emerge
from clinical practice. In other words there is a disparity between scientific
theory and clinical practice, a disparity that has increased over the years with
negative consequences for the relationship between theory, method and practice,
as I will show.

Historical considerations
One of the fundamental ways of encouraging a critical attitude to theory and of
sharpening our capacity to detect deficiencies and omissions is by looking at the
history of analytical theory. As Rand and Torok note, ‘Not only the past but
also the future of psychoanalysis, both as a theory and as a clinical practice may
well depend on the conscious assimilation and assessment of its own history’
(1987, p. 65).
For Freud analysis was first and foremost practice and theorizing ideally took
place subsequently. As he wrote in 1912,
It is not a good thing to work on a case scientifically while treatment is still proceeding
– to piece together its structure, to try to foretell its further progress, and to get a
picture from time to time of the current state of affairs, as scientific interest would
demand. Cases which are devoted from the first to scientific purposes and are treated
accordingly suffer in their outcome; while the most successful cases are those in which
one proceeds, as it were, without any purpose in view, allows oneself to be taken by
surprise by any new turn in them, and always meets them with an open mind, free
from any presuppositions.
(Freud 1912, p. 114)
Again when he attempted in 1923 to define psychoanalysis, his emphasis was
on practice and method rather than theory:
Psychoanalysis is the name 1) of a procedure for the investigation of mental
processes which are almost inaccessible in any other way, 2) of a method (based
on that investigation) for the treatment of neurotic disorders and 3) a collection
of psychological information obtained along those lines which are gradually being
accumulated into a new scientific discipline.
(1923, p. 235)

To sum up therefore, for Freud, one begins with practice, and proceeds with
the discovery of a method and finally the production of theory.
One of the striking changes that have come about since Freud’s time in the
relationship between theory and practice is the reversal that has occurred in his
Brief considerations on the relationship between theory and practice 489

way of proceeding, as we can see from the definition of analysis given in the
IPA Membership Handbook and Roster in 2001:
The term psychoanalysis refers to a theory of personality structure and function and
to a specific psychotherapeutic technique. This body of knowledge is based on and
derived from the fundamental discoveries made by Sigmund Freud.

The result of this reversal is before our eyes. As Fonagy has noted in a 2002
panel on the issue of difference in method:
Theory is largely not about clinical practice and there is a gulf between public theories
and the more private implicit or unconscious theories that actually guide individual
practice.
This gap has meant that theory has evolved at a much faster pace than practice
and whereas there has been an explosion of theory, practice has remained, at
least officially, static and unchanging.
At this point it is relevant to reflect on why this gap between theory and
method on the one hand and practice on the other, has come about. As we all
know the break between Freud and Ferenczi over their disagreements about
method and rules represented a profound trauma for the psychoanalytical
movement. Ferenczi’s experience of his clinical practice led him to question
some of the basic rules of the Freudian method, abstinence, the avoidance
of interpretations based on countertransference, and the role of regression.
The result was a rift with Freud and this experience was so painful for the
psychoanalytical movement, already traumatized by the ‘defection’ of Adler and
Jung, that as Balint (1984) says, the result was negation and silence, reactions
that led to a serious delay in the development of analytical technique and a
tendency towards a blind and critical acceptance of the rules.
When in 1958 Fairbairn presented a paper on technique to the English
psychoanalytical society, the result was again suppression and denial. In this
work Fairbairn describes how his theoretical formulations profoundly changed
the way in which he practised analysis and led him to reject many of the
restrictions and rules of the analytical method such as the use of the couch
and the adoption of a standardized length of session. As he states, ‘It seems
to me that a profound stultification of the therapeutical aim is involved in any
demand, whether explicit or implicit, that the patient must conform to the
nature of the therapeutic method rather than that the method must conform to
the requirements of the patient’ (p. 379). The same situation repeated itself with
even more dramatic results with Lacan who was expelled not for his theories
but for his modification of method such as the introduction of the variable
length of the session.
If the rules of the psychoanalytical method are no longer the instrument of
our practice but become reduced to the level of a shield against the dangers of
the encounter and the guarantee of the analyst’s identity, then we need to ask
ourselves what kind of relationship we must establish with these rules, in order
490 Angela Connolly

to promote good technique and practice. Relevant here is Bion’s paradoxical

statement: ‘It is difficult to stick to the rules. For one thing, I do not know what
the rules of psychoanalysis are’ (1990, p. 139). If, according to Goldberg, the
aim of analysis is ‘to promote an in-depth understanding that is conditioned by
the complexities of the transference and the unconscious’, this suggests that the
rules themselves must necessarily become the object of our reflection and our
understanding (Goldberg 2001, p. 127).
As Wittgenstein stresses, obeying a rule is not at all the same thing as
interpreting a rule and in the end, any blind adherence to rules is more a matter
of belief and habit than of justification, ‘If I have exhausted the justifications I
have reached bedrock, and my spade is turned. Then I am inclined to say. ‘“This
is simply what I do”’ (Wittengenstein 1967, p. 201, p. 217). If we are to avoid
reducing our theories to dogmas, to mere beliefs or habits, what is necessary is
a ‘persistent activity of framing, of ‘meta’ examination of all that transpires, but
again, only within its particular context’ (Goldberg 2000, p. 125). As Goldberg
concludes, ‘one cannot operate according to a fixed set of rules and an expectant
analytical method, any more than one can operate with a totally flexible set of
rules and an equally unexpectant method’ (2000, p. 127).
The rules are part and parcel of techne if they are considered not as something
which must be obeyed in all circumstances, but as instruments that allow us to
think about what we are doing and why we are doing it, which in the last analysis
is the essential factor in the creation of theories and in the communication and
transmission of our knowledge and our skills.

Theory, method and practice in analytical psychology

In our Jungian analytical practice, we face if you like, the same dangers as
our Freudian colleagues, in our attitudes to theory and the opposite problem
with respect to method and technique. Even more than Freud, Jung was acutely
aware of the dangers of theory that is imposed from without rather than theory
that springs from clinical experience. As he writes: ‘I am at pains to avoid all
theoretical presuppositions about the structure of the neurosis and what the
patient can and ought to do. As far as possible I let pure experience decide
the therapeutic aims’ (1931, p. 41). Again, ‘Theories are to be avoided, except
as mere auxiliaries. As soon as a dogma is made of them, it is evident that
an inner doubt is being stifled . . . Theories are not articles of faith, they are
either instruments of knowledge and therapy, or they are no good at all’ (1945,
p. 88).
Despite his insistence on the relative nature of any psychological theory
however, Jung himself was not able to avoid the temptation of setting up
what Trevi describes as a ‘constructive module of psychology’ (2000; my
translation), that is to say a model of the psyche orientated towards the creation
of an objective and absolute psychology, which all too easily leads towards
dogmatism and doctrine, where theory is presented as psychic fact. The result
Brief considerations on the relationship between theory and practice 491

is that all too often in the past Jungian theorizing has become reduced to what
Barnaby and D’Acierno call ‘vulgar Jungianism, the mechanical and reductivist
allegorical rewriting of a “text” according to the master code of the archetypes’
(1990, p. xxi).
Concerned as he was that the formal setting up of training institutes could
led to the rigid application of technical rules, Jung left us very little in the way
of method. Indeed, he was often extremely scathing about method:
Naturally a doctor must be familiar with so-called ‘methods’. But he must guard
against falling into any specific, routine approach. In general one must guard against
theoretical assumptions . . .in my analyses, I am unsystematic very much by intention.
(1963, p. 153)
A very small part of his extensive writing is dedicated to the practice of
psychotherapy and there are no detailed case studies to which we can refer.
What Jung has left us is, as Trevi says:
a brief series of hermeneutic prescriptions, among which dominate the image of
analysis as a dialectical process, the necessity of an unconditional respect for the
patient’s personality, the obstacle-instrument of the personal equation of analyst and
analysand, the mutual influence of doctor and patient and the immense (and potentially
dangerous) value of the analyst’s personality understood as the only, true and concrete
‘method’ of therapy.
(2000, pp. 19–20)

Indeed for many Jungians, as Samuels points out, method ‘is quite foreign to
Jung’s conception of analysis as an art, as defying formulation’ (1985, p. 200).
What perhaps Jung failed to realize however is that, as Fordham once said,
shunning all method is itself a method (quoted in Wiener 2007, p. 174).
If the formation of the therapist and the transmission of a method
are consigned exclusively to the personal and training analysis and to the
supervision, all too often the result is that our method becomes something
unconscious, based more on an identification with, or worse still an imitation
of, the analyst, than on any conscious reflection on what we are doing
and why we are doing it. As Bion once remarked, ‘It is impossible to
undergo an analysis without learning about psycho-analysis as practised by one
particular psycho-analyst; this is a misfortune rather than an advantage’ (1984,
p. 27).
If however we think of technique as that skilful application of method that
allows us (hopefully) to produce theory and therapeutic results, then we need
to reflect on how to modify the way in which we teach theory, method and
practice in our institutes in such a way that we can avoid the twin dangers of
stultification and inhibition of creativity on the one hand and descent into the
ineffable and the mystical on the other. This is also fundamental if we are to
create a dialogue with psychoanalysis, for as Anna-Maria Rizzuto, echoed by
Judith Mitrani, noted in her reply to a JAP questionnaire, while our theories,
‘are too far from each other to find enough common ground . . . the most fruitful
492 Angela Connolly

exchange would be found in comparing the methods and technical interventions

in clinical work’ (2002, p. 14).

Teaching theory
Analytical theory, if it is to be true to itself, is always a discourse about the
unconscious which springs from the encounter with the unconscious that takes
place in our practice. The problem, as Jameson says, is that ‘if the individual
experience is authentic then it cannot be true; and that if a scientific or cognitive
model of the same content is true, then it escapes individual experience’ (1991,
p. 411). Analytical theory cannot be scientific or true without betraying the
authenticity of the encounter with the unconscious, but it can be authentic only
at the risk of becoming incoherent and therefore not transmissible.
Although both Freud and Jung insist on the importance of theory making
that springs from and is always referred back to clinical practice, in reality both
betrayed, in a certain sense, their own prescriptions in their desire to create a
totalizing theory with the result that in the end theory tended to govern clinical
practice. Jung in his theory-making on the unconscious tended towards an
excessive use of analogical processes and in his search for similarities ignored
the significance of differences linked to particular historical and socio-cultural
contexts and thus risked falling into reductive psychologism or radical relativism
in which method was reduced only to the personality of the analyst and therefore
impossible to transmit. On the other hand, Freud’s excessive insistence on
theoretical coherence and on maintaining the purity of psychoanalysis tended
to radicalize difference thus blocking the possibility of dialogue with other
psychological theories and other related systems of thought. At the same time
the ever-increasing pressure on his pupils to adhere to clinical orthodoxy led to
the reduction of his method to a series of rigid and ever more ossified rules and
prescriptions.
If the unconscious is the ‘other’ of consciousness and all rational knowledge
then no one discipline (analytical or not) can possess the unconscious. Indeed
in our post-modern world we can no longer even talk about ‘the unconscious’
but only a plurality of ‘unconsciouses’: the dynamically repressed unconscious
of Freud, the unrepressed, stratified unconscious of Jung or Matte Blanco, the
cultural unconscious of Henderson, the spatial unconscious of Henri Lefebvre
or the political unconscious of Frederic Jameson.
If the aim of psychoanalytical education is that of providing ‘an atmosphere
of excitement and freedom’ in which questioning and original work are fostered
and indoctrination avoided (Kernberg 2000, p. 115), we need to find new ways
to ensure that theory and method are always driven by and referred back to
clinical practice, necessary if we are to be able to generate new knowledge. In
a post-modern world where there can be no ultimate theoretical referent or
bedrock on which to found our certainties, it is only our clinical practice that
differentiates us from other disciplines and guarantees our identity.
Brief considerations on the relationship between theory and practice 493

The first step in establishing a useful relationship between theory, method and
practice is to encourage in our candidates a disciplined and critical intellectual
attitude towards theory. To achieve this goal it is important to evaluate theory
against four different frames of reference which according to Zachrisson and
Zachrisson (1986, p. 1368) consist of:
1) internal correspondence – testing the theory against observations from
clinical practice;
2) internal coherence – conceptual analysis of the theory;
3) external coherence – is the theory in contradiction with the findings of
related disciplines or is it supported by such findings;
4) external correspondence – can observations conceptualised outside the
theory be placed in relationship to the theory.
These ideas are similar to those expressed by Jameson in a very different context.
If we accept that theories are no longer regarded as weltanschauungen or
worldviews but, as Jameson would have it, as codes, the specific ‘idiolects’
of theoretical communities, then it becomes possible to ‘transcode’ or translate
between different theoretical systems. In this way we can become aware of the
conceptual possibilities of each code, the things that it is possible to say and
think in one code but not in another and this can make us much more aware
of the inconsistencies, incoherencies and gaps in our conceptual framework, a
very useful lesson for students. This of course does not create new knowledge
but thinking in terms of codes; it is possible to create new theoretical discourse
by setting two pre-existing codes into active equivalence, which is no mere
synthesis between the two but rather a process of ‘linking two sets of terms
in such a way that each can express and indeed interpret the other’ (1991,
pp. 394–5), a truly emergent process.
At this point the reader may well feel overwhelmed by a mass of theory and
begin to wonder how all this can be put into practice so it is perhaps relevant
here to describe the way in which I and my colleagues on the teaching faculty
of my institute, the Rome Institute of CIPA, actually teach our students.

Teaching theory in practice

CIPA is a large and vital society with over 140 analysts and 105 candidates
between Rome and Milan. Because of the need to guarantee a state licence for
our candidates we have become, along with the other psychoanalytical societies
in Italy, an official school of specialization in psychotherapy and our curriculum
is therefore controlled by the State. The training course consists of two biennial
sets: in the first set the candidates must participate in 275 hours of teaching
each year while in the second, the hours required are 250 per year. While this
has obviously meant an enormous workload both for the teaching faculty and
for the candidates, there are however advantages.
494 Angela Connolly

One positive effect has been that teaching is no longer the exclusive domain
of training analysts. All members of the institute who possess the necessary
requisites such as scientific competence, communicative capacity and previous
experience in teaching or in presenting clinical or theoretical papers to the
society or in external conferences, can if they wish, become members of the
teaching faculty. Even more important is that we have had to open up all
the cultural and scientific activities of the Institute to the candidates.
As well as attending the 15 courses dedicated to the fundamental aspects of
Jung’s theory and method, the theories of the different psychoanalytical schools,
group dynamics and processes and psychometrics, the candidates are required to
participate in the research activities of the Institute, in reading groups dedicated
to Jung’s writings, in the case colloquia, in the monthly conferences held by
guest speakers and in the annual congresses of CIPA.
Analytical training has as its fundamental scope the transmission of skills:
phenomenological skills in the sense of being able to observe as clearly and
as accurately as possible what goes on in the analytical setting; hermeneutical
skills in the sense of being able to make interpretations that are faithful to the
clinical facts observed and are capable of creating new meanings; theoretical
skills in the sense of being able to reflect on clinical facts and to measure them
against pre-existing knowledge.
From the beginning of their training the candidates are brought into contact
with the ideas of Jung, not only those presented by their teachers but those they
discover through their own encounters with the original texts in the reading
groups. Again from the beginning they are exposed to the theories and methods
of other psychoanalytical schools, which are presented critically but respectfully.
The candidates are encouraged to read original texts (both classical and recent)
in order to facilitate in-depth understanding. They are also stimulated to reflect
on the similarities and differences between various theoretical and clinical
approaches in order to sharpen their capacity to think clearly about the
meaning of concepts and to encourage them to reflect on the strengths and
weaknesses of different theories and their potential use in clinical practice,
bearing in mind that no one theoretical paradigm can ever encompass all that
takes place in the setting. Paraphrasing Bollas, each Jungian should also be
a potential Freudian, Kohutian, Kleinian, Winnicottian, Lacanian, Bionian, as
each of these schools only reflects a certain limited analytical perspective (1989,
p. 99).
In the conferences and congresses they are exposed to recent scientific
developments taking place at the boundaries of our discipline and to recent
and controversial views which facilitate the creation of an atmosphere of
lively debate. We are convinced that encouraging candidates to reflect on
the significance of recent findings in the neurosciences, in phenomenology
and phenomenological psychopathology, in hermeneutics, in cognitive neuro-
psychology, in linguistics, in attachment theory and in cultural anthropology
promotes a healthy and critical attitude to theory and practice.
Brief considerations on the relationship between theory and practice 495

In addition, through their participation in the institute’s research groups they

learn about methodology and how to take an active part in research projects.
Finally and not least, in the second biennium, when the candidates begin to
participate in the case colloquia they have the opportunity not only to present
their own work for the attention and comments of the participating analysts,
but they also have an opportunity to hear more senior colleagues present their
own work.
Careful assessment of the skills of candidates is a fundamental part of training
not only because of our ethical responsibilities towards the community but also
as it provides constant feedback on the efficacy of our teaching. The theoretical
knowledge of the candidates is assessed not only through examinations in each
of the 15 courses but through two brief theoretical papers and in their final
case study. Writing is, we believe, fundamental in encouraging candidates to
learn how to think clearly and logically, how to organize their ideas coherently
and how to develop their own way of approaching theoretical and clinical
problems. As Herrmann puts it, ‘Good analytical training depends principally
on the capacity of an institute to stimulate its candidates to investigate the
human psyche on their own account, commencing with small-scale attempts
at original theoretical production directed towards understanding how theories
are created in psychoanalysis’ (Herrmann 2001, p. 65). In the same way, the
case study is designed to assess the capacity of the candidates to observe clinical
facts, to use their observations to draw conclusions and to make interpretations,
and to apply theory to these facts in a relevant and meaningful way.
Of course there is no ideal training and no ideal way of teaching someone
how become a ‘good-enough’ analyst. The training puts an enormous strain
on the teaching faculty and on the training committee as it requires much time
and effort and in our institute, teaching is not remunerated. This is in part
balanced by the fact that the teachers of each course change every two years but
naturally this can led at times to certain variation in the quality of the courses
and of the teaching as, although those teaching seminars are required to possess
certain qualifications and although the subject matter of each course is vetted
by the training committee, the conduct of the course is still left very much to
the initiative and capacity of the single seminar leaders. At present we have still
to confront the problem of how to help teachers improve their skills. Again the
lack of time has led to a lack of communication between the seminar leaders
themselves who have no institutional forum in which to discuss freely problems
and eventual difficulties.
From the other side, the inevitable regressive pressure of analysis and the
fear of critical judgement will always exert a certain inhibitory influence on
candidates which no amount of candidate representation and no work on
group process can ever completely eliminate. Again while candidates may resent
teaching that is too dogmatic or which stifles critical thinking, they tend equally
to experience anger and distress when they feel overwhelmed by the amount
of knowledge they have to take in or when their teachers undermine their
496 Angela Connolly

theoretical certainties, often expressed in statements such as ‘we are not being
taught enough Jung’ or ‘I want to be a Jungian. What use are all these other
facts that I am required to know?’
One of the most difficult things for candidates to accept is that our knowledge
will always be limited and incomplete as in the end the unconscious will always
remain mysterious and essentially ineffable. As Auchincloss says, ‘we tell them
that in order to understand psychoanalysis, they ought to know everything,
even as they must understand and accept that perhaps they can claim to know
nothing’ (1979, p. 18).
The fact remains however, that despite all the difficulties and shortcomings,
by and large our candidates emerge from the ordeal of training feeling that it has
been worthwhile and we still have many interesting and creative people seeking
to enter training. Of course no one can ‘teach’ creativity but we can certainly
inhibit it. So long as we continue to be aware of the dangers represented by the
rather shocking example given by David Hewison in his review of Casement’s
paper, of the supervisor who told her supervisee that ‘you’re here to learn how
to do it my way’ (2003), so long as we are able to help candidates to maintain
the original enthusiasm that each one brings to training and so long as we can
ensure that they remain faithful to themselves and to their own particular vision
of the world, training remains one of the most enjoyable and creative activities
open to us all.

TRANSLATIONS OF ABSTRACTS

La crise actuelle des modèles d’apprentissage et de la formation psychanalytique en

général, peut être mise en lien avec le fossé qui s’est progressivement creusé entre théorie
analytique et pratique clinique. L’article examine les faits historiques ayant mené à cette
scission et propose de revenir aux modèles de Freud et de Jung. Ces deux pères de la
psychologie des profondeurs ont en effet insisté sur les dangers inhérents à l’usage
dogmatique de la théorie et sur la nécessité pour la théorie d’émerger de la pratique
clinique pour en rendre compte et non l’inverse, comme cela est si souvent le cas de nos
jours. L’article se penche également sur la question de l’enseignement théorique dans nos
instituts analytiques, dans un but de transmission, non pas d’un savoir dogmatique mais
plutôt d’un processus susceptible d’inciter les étudiants à développer une pensée créative
à partir de leur pratique clinique et de produire ainsi des connaissances nouvelles. Ceci
est essentiel si tant est que la psychologie des profondeurs ait une pertinence et un rôle
à jouer dans notre culture post-moderne.

Die gegenwärtige Krise in Ausbildungsmodellen und in psychoanalytischer Schulung im

Allgemeinen kann mit der Kluft in Beziehung gebracht worden, die zwischen analytischer
Theorie und klinischer Praxis hergestellt wurde. In dieser Arbeit werden historische
Fakten untersucht, die zu dieser Spaltung geführt haben und die Autorin weist darauf
hin, dass es notwendig ist, zu den Modellen von Freud und Jung zurück zu gehen.
Diese beiden Väter der Tiefenpsychologie betonten die Gefahren, die im dogmatischen
Brief considerations on the relationship between theory and practice 497

Gebrauch der Theorie liegen. Und beide bestanden darauf, dass die Theorie immer aus
der klinischen Praxis entstehen und auf diese anwendbar sein muss, statt umgekehrt,
wie es heute so oft der Fall ist. In der Arbeit wird auch darauf geschaut, wie die Theorie
in unseren Analytischen Instituten gelehrt werden sollte, um sicher zu stellen, dass das,
was wir unseren Kandidaten und Kandidatinnen vermitteln, nicht dogmatisches Wissen
ist, sondern eher eine Vorgehensweise, die ihnen hilft, kreativ über ihre klinische Praxis
nachzudenken und neues Wissen hervor zu bringen. Dieses ist notwendig, wenn die
Tiefenpsychologie in unserer postmodernen Kultur relevant bleiben soll.

La presente crisi nei modelli di training e nella formazione psicoanalitica può essere
connessa all’abisso che si è creato fra la teoria analitica e la pratica clinica. In questo
scritto si esaminano i fatti storici che hanno condotto a tale scissione e si suggerisce la
necessità di tornare ai modelli di Freud e Jung. Entrambi questi padri della psicologia
del profondo sottolinearono i pericoli inerenti a un uso dogmatico della teoria ed
entrambi insistettero sul fatto che la teoria deve emergere da ed essere in grado di tener
conto della pratica clinica piuttosto che il contrario, come è cosı̀ spesso il caso oggi. Il
lavoro considera inoltre come dovrebbe essere insegnata la teoria nelle nostre istituzioni
analitiche in modo da essere sicuri che ciò che noi oggi trasmettiamo ai nostri candidati
non è una conoscenza dogmatica, ma piutttosto un modo di procedere che permetterà
loro di pensare creativamente alla loro pratica clinica e in tal modo produrre nuova
conoscenza, essenziale perchè la psicologia del profondo mantenga una sua rilevanza
nella nostra cultura post moderna.

La presente crisis en los modelos de entrenamiento y en la educación psicoanalı́tica en

general puede ser vinculada con el abismo que se ha creado entre las teorı́as analı́ticas
y la práctica clı́nica. Este trabajo examina los hechos históricos que han llevado a esta
separación y sugiere la necesidad de retornar a los modelos de Freı́d y Jung. A ambos
padres de la Psicologı́a Profunda les preocuparon los peligros inherentes al uso dogmático
de la teorı́a e insistı́an que la teorı́a debı́a nacer siempre y tomar en cuenta la práctica
clı́nica mas que a la inversa, como es frecuentemente el caso en nuestros dı́as. El trabajo
observa también como debe ser enseñada en nuestros institutos analı́ticos para poder
asegurar que no trasmitimos conocimientos como dogmas sin que mejor una forma de
que les permita pensar creativamente sobre su práctica clı́nica y ası́ producir nuevos
conocimientos, esenciales si la psicologı́a profunda debe continuar siendo relevante para
nuestra cultura post-moderna

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[Ms first received September 2006, final version December 2007]