STEPHEN MITCHELL (1996)
作者: readingintheruins / 6920次阅读 时间: 2010年3月16日
来源: 天空部落 标签: MITCHELL STEPHEN Stephen
www.psychspace.com心理学空间网1. Freud and Beyond: A History of Modern Psychoanalytic Thought,  by Stephen A. Mitchell, Margaret J. Black, Basic Books, 1996  (精神分析史 accessible via www.questia.com)心理学空间'X8}~ ^ H2xnmE
2. My Psychoanalytic Journey,  by Stephen A. Mitchell, Psychoanalytic Inquiry,  Vol. 24, 2004 (accessible via questia) 心理学空间)f;g.N1BO4d;K AMA
2. My Psychoanalytic Journey 心理学空间$oJi9G R&W4w,u2C
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by Stephen A. Mitchell
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LIKE MANY IN THE FIEED OF PSYCHOANALYSIS,  I WAS FIRST DRAWN to the ideas of Freud himself. I don't  remember how I came across Freud's writings, but I spent a good  part of the summer between my junior and senior years of high  school devouring the five-volume edition of Freud's collected  papers. I went to college looking for Freud in psychology  courses, only to discover rats (not the Rat Man). I ended  up with a wonderful cross-disciplinary major, "History, the Arts  & Letters," in which I learned a great deal about structural,  comparative approaches to ideas. My major interests, in addition  to psychology, were politics and philosophy. Eventually, both  began to merge for  me back into  psychology: helping people change their lives politically and  socially required understanding them  psychologically, and Nietzsche convinced me that philosophy had  made a wrong turn in focusing on how people should be rather  than on how people actually are. 心理学空间6KAH0PQn _].TW
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I got my doctorate in clinical  psychology at New  York University (NYU)  in the remarkably open and stimulating atmosphere created by  Bernie Kalinkowitz and many of his friends, adjunct faculty  trained at the William Alanson White Psychiatric Institute. I  minored in community psychology. My dual focus on individuals  and social processes was maintained in my internship at the  Columbia Psychiatric Institute, where I spent half the year on  the community service and half the year on the psychoanalytic service. 心理学空间:B2|*XPL;n

H.g\ `un4|8\b$?0My conceptual and clinical development in those years reflected  that same dialectical tension between the individual and the  social, intrapsychic, and interpersonal. Although Freudian ego  psychology was very much a presence at NYU (through Robert Holt,  Leo Goldberger, and others), I was most drawn to interpersonal  teachers and supervisors whose ideas spoke more directly to my  own experience and understanding of  the world. I read Sullivan and Fromm avidly, and I was  introduced (through Bernie Friedland) to Fairbairn and Guntrip.  At about the same time, I discovered the existentialist and  interpersonal essays of Leslie Farber, whose thought has had a  lasting influence on me. During those years, I was also in a  very meaningful and useful personal analysis with a contemporary  Freudian. 
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Y@Dt \!I(huR [0For me, these various foci deepened during the mid-1970s at the  White institute. I was forced to change to a White institute  training analyst, which I resented at first. However, the second  analysis in some respects had more of an impact on me than the  first did, and I have come to treasure the two experiences in  tandem as having taught me a great deal about how deeply  personal and interpersonal each analytic dyad is. The dominant  intellectual influence at White in those years was Edgar  Levenson, who greatly transformed and modernized interpersonal  theory into its current emphasis on transference-countertransference  phenomena. But I was also very lucky to be able to study Freud  with Irving Paul and ego psychology with Martin Bergman. My  favorite supervisor, Geneva Goodrich, told me that it takes  about seven to eight years to learn to do psychoanalysis,  so that took off some of the pressure I put on myself. I had  enormously rich clinical experiences with patients and  supervisors, and I still find myself thinking about these  experiences and people today. I watched my clinical work change  from year to year in tandem with changes in supervisors, and I  worried about being too easily influenced, as if I were  clinically promiscuous. (This was also noted by a couple of my  patients!) But I decided again thatpsychoanalysis was  a very personal business and that a kind of surrender to the  sensibility of supervisors and teachers was the best way to  learn deeply what they had to offer. I stopped worrying. 心理学空间(i |4dt8H9m!s6~2S
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I had discovered in college that the only way to really learn  anything was to study it on one's own, and I began to find that  the best way to learn something deeply was to teach it. I  taughtpsychoanalytic ideas  and interdisciplinary courses to undergraduates for eight years  during the 1970s, and then I began teaching at a wide range of  different psychoanalytic institutes.  It was in teaching-taking apart, reconstructing, and comparing  different theoretical models-that I discovered that I had  developed a point of view. And it was in presenting and  reflecting on my own clinical work that I discovered that I had  indeed developed a coherent style of my own. The teaching lent  itself naturally to writing, which I had always loved doing, but  until then I had not felt that I had anything particularly  useful to say. To the deep satisfactions of doing clinical work  were added a passion for both teaching and writing, on which I  have continued to spend a major portion of time, to this very  moment. For the past 15 years or so, I have been meeting with  reading groups to explore both past and present analytic  literature. Meeting with these groups has been a rich vehicle  for sharing and processing my clinical experiences and ideas. It  is difficultfor me to  imagine doing clinical work without the teaching and writing  that have become its counterpart. 
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T%z!I8zL*B0Over lunch one day, Jay Greenberg and I discovered that we were  both planning to write the same book. We joined forces, and the  book eventually became Object Relations in PsychoanalyticTheory  (1983). We wanted to show that a broad shift (in those days,  paradigm was not yet a cliched word) had taken place over  several preceding decades of psychoanalytic thought-from  anunderstanding of  mind as built from drive-based impulses and defenses to an understanding of  mind as built from relational configurations. We tried to  demonstrate the different strategies for  dealing with this shift-from more conservative strategies of  accommodation (in Freudian ego psychology) to more radical strategies of  clear alternatives (in interpersonal theory and in the object  relations theory of Fairbairn). For  me, writing this book was extraordinary in many ways. Jay and I  often converged in our approaches to issues, but there were some  important differences as well. Struggling with those differences  and devising a conceptual framework for encompassing them made  the book much more balanced and textured than it would have been  if either of us had written it alone. That taught me a great  deal about collaboration and community. And research into the  book sections for which I was responsible deepened my sense that  there were fundamental compatibilities among interpersonal psychoanalysis,  British school object relations theories (particularly  Fairbairn's), and much of the clinical wisdom of contemporary  Kleinian theory. 
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The understanding of  the history of psychoanalytic ideas  that developed in those years has stayed with me ever since.  There had been many innovations and departures from classical  Freudian drive theory over the years, but they had remained  isolated around different issues in different  schools-interpersonal theory, object relations theory, self  psychology, existential psychoanalysis,humanistic  psychology, and so on. Many of these contributions use  different terminology, but they are grounded in common  conceptual assumptions. Together, they form a comprehensive  alternative to what had increasingly become, for  me, the anachronistic features of classical metapsychology. 心理学空间 I[4DiL&u

%GU w!EI0In the mid-1980s, I began to develop an integrated relational  perspective for exploring various major psychoanalytic concerns,  including sexuality, development, narcissism, agency,  aggression, self, authenticity, the psychoanalytic relationship,  and analytic process. The results of my explorations were  eventually published in Relational Concepts in Psychoanalysis:  An Integration (1988), Hope and Dread in Psychoanalysis (1993),  and Influence and Autonomy in Psychoanalysis(1997). 
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As I was working out my own personal synthesis of concepts and  influences, several institutional developments were having an  enormous impact on me. 心理学空间[wcsEsA yj

"dCU)m!^:~Lq0First, the Division of Psychoanalysis (Division 39) of the  American Psychological Association began to really take off.  After decades of passively waiting and hoping to be taken in by  the American Psychoanalytic Association and the American  Federation, psychologists began to empower themselves to study,  teach, and practice psychoanalysis. I became active in teaching  at various "local chapters" in different cities (Denver, Boston,  Chicago, San Francisco, and, later, Toronto and Seattle), and  these chapters grew into a new generation of psychoanalytic  institutes. These teaching experiences-involving marathon  weekends, speaker phones, and video cameras-were some of the  most exciting I've enjoyed. There seemed to be a synergy between  the revolution that was relaxing the tight institutional control  that had been strangling psychoanalytic education and the theory  and clinical practice revolution that the relational literature  was beginning to capture and systematize. 心理学空间)V7OE"o'uy

Mq6c#J$a"ff0Second, I extended my teaching from the White institute to the  Post-doctoral Program at NYU. I was brought in by Bernie  Friedland and Mannie Ghent to teach object relations theory in  the Interpersonal/Humanistic track at a time when the Freudian  and Interpersonal/Humanistic tracks were locked in a power  struggle that prevented either from developing fully. In 1989,  various factors converged to end this struggle, and Mannie,  Bernie, and I (soon to be joined by Phil Bromberg and Jim  Fosshage) were given the mandate to form a quasi-independent  Relational track. Out of the explosion of interest, which was  truly unexpected and startling, emerged a community that has  been an extremely rich intellectual home for me. 
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&O*s*~Z i+J(Xm*z0Third, during the fall of 1989, Lew Aron and I discovered (over  another fateful lunch) that we both had the fantasy of  developing a relational journal. Lew mentioned this to Paul  Stepansky of The Analytic Press. Paul, very excited about the  idea, approached me to form a small group to develop the journal  that would eventually become Psychoanalytic Dialogues: A Journal  of Relational Perspectives. The extraordinary interest the  journal attracted almost from the beginning was extremely  exciting, and being its editor gave me the opportunity to work  closely with colleagues who have become friends and, each in  their own way, major influences on my own thinking over the  years-at first, Lew Aron, Phil Bromberg, Mannie Ghent, and  Adrienne Harris, and then, over the years, Neil Altman, Tony  Bass, Jody Davies, and Muriel Dimen. Most recently, we were  joined by Margaret Black, Carolyn Clement, and Jay Frankel. In  199x, The Analytic Press launched the Relational Perspectives  Book Series, cocdited by Lew Aron and me. Lew and I recently  coedited the series volume Relational Psychoanalysis: The  Emergence of a Tradition (1999). 心理学空间_"x;l F8h5an{y

e$wb:W%b3Z0The overlapping communities that emerged in these organizations  have been extremely important in the development of my  understanding and clinical sensibility. In a very fundamental  way, my psychoanalytic journey has been a "journey with others,"  and as a result I have learned a great deal about many things,  including these few: the dense complexities of the interactions  between analysand and analyst (Lewis Aron, Jay Grecnberg);  multiplicitous self states and trauma (Jody Davics, Phil  Bromberg); the pervasive and subtle workings of gender (Adrienne  Harris, Muriel Dimen, Virginia Goldner); the ways in which we  are saturated in social class and racial meanings (Neil Altman);  the richness of the self-psychological approach to experience  (Margaret Black, Jim Fosshage); and varieties of authenticity  and intersubjcctivity in the subtle distinctions among  surrender, submission, and recognition (Mannie Ghent, Jessica  Benjamin). 
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i5B;LK-j D!X0As I look back from my current vantage point, I see that the  basic interests and values with which I began have stayed with  me throughout the years. My early interest in both individual  psychology and social problems and processes has led to a  relational psychoanalytic vision that emphasizes the  interpenetrability of the intrapsychic and the interpersonal.  Jay Greenberg and I intended the term relational as a bridge  concept between interpersonal relations and internal object  relations. My subsequent clinical and intellectual experiences  have taken me more deeply into both realms. My early education  also imparted to me a strong sense of the contextual nature of  all human thought-its embeddedness in cultural place and  historical time. That commitment has certainly stayed with me  over the years and nurtured my involvement in the sometimes  hazardous business of "comparative psychoanalysis." It has also  girded my conviction that, whereas Freud's psychoanalysis was  inevitably both facilitated and constrained by the intellectual  milieu of his time, our psychoanalysis must interface with,  learn from, and speak to other participants in our intellectual  milieu. So, contemporary philosophy, science, philosophy of  history, and literary theory have remained to some extent my  hobbies. What I have been able to learn about the concerns of  scholars in these areas has had an ongoing, living relationship  with the evolution of my psychoanalytic ideas and clinical  concerns. 心理学空间 obXe*W^7F

*kxs&Ze,K#DR\0In addition to the original formative influences of Freud,  Sullivan, Fromm, Farber, Levenson, Fairbairn, Winnicott, and  Klein, and the cross-fertilizing exchanges I had with my  colleagues on Psychoanalytic Dialogues, other analytic authors  have also had a major impact on my thinking. Over the past 15  years or so, I have found the contributions of the contemporary  Kleinians of great interest and resonance; I've come to  recognize Racker's writings on transference and  countertransference as a source of great wisdom. In the 1980s, I  had the privilege of getting to know both Merton Gill and Irwin  Z. Hoffman, and each has had a large impact on me both  personally and professionally. Gill's lucidity, incisiveness,  and intellectual integrity have become ideals for me, and  Irwin's brutally honest, ongoing investigation of the  ambiguities of the analyst's participation in the analytic  process continues to push me in ways I am not always happy to go  but always find very rewarding. I have also found the evolving  thought of Thomas Ogden to be always challenging, profound, and  inspiring. More recently, I've found that Adam Phillips's  aesthetic take on psychoanalysis captures and expands what I've  always felt has been the fun in psychoanalytic thought. And,  even though I disagree with Roy Schafer, especially on basic  issues of technique, I have found his writings over the years to  be a source of great riches. 
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Perhaps the greatest joy in my reading of the psychoanalytic  literature in recent years has been my immersion in the work of  Hans Loewald. I was asked to be the discussant of a paper he was  to present at the White institute in 1981, and, in preparation,  I read a good deal of his work. The exchange we had then was  stimulating for me, and in a sense his ideas became part of the  background of my own thought and writing. Somewhere through  teaching in the mid-1990s, however, I began to realize just how  powerfully Loewald's vision had influenced my own in many ways I  had not directly recognized. This led me to study his work  systematically. (I included two chapters on Loewald in my most  recent book, Relationality: From Attachment to Intersubjectivity.)  As Loewald's ideas all developed within the context of his love  of Freud and of his extremely idiosyncratic and creative reading  of Freud's work, reading Loewald led me back to reread and  reconsider Freud. I've found this kind of continual cycling back  as probably the best way to both preserve and revitalize  analytic traditions. 
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#sGV~ds7m0Several features of the politics of the recent history of  psychoanalysis seem worth noting at this point, because they  have had a big impact on my experience of and location in the  psychoanalytic world. When Jay Greenberg and I began writing  about the relational tradition, I regarded relational ideas as  an extension of interpersonal psychoanalysis and current  relational contributions as continuous with the earlier  interpersonal tradition through the bridges created by object  relations theories. It was one of the greatest surprises of my  professional life to discover that many identifying themselves  as "interpersonal psychoanalysts," particularly those of the  older generation, did not see it that way. For them, object  relations, because of its intrapsychic focus, is incompatible  with interpersonal psychoanalysis and is merely an extension of  everything that is wrong with traditional Freudian thinking. The  title of one of the chapters in Edgar Levenson's The Ambiguity  of Change (1983) puts the issue succinctly: "Object Relations  Theory: Bridge or Detour?" So, even though I have always  considered myself both an interpersonal analyst and a relational  analyst, relational psychoanalysis began to be regarded by many  as a distinct school of psychoanalytic thought unto itself. 
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On the other side, relational concepts have continued to seep  into the contemporary Freudian literature. I use the word seep  purposely, because relational authors are most often, though  with important exceptions, simply not cited. Seepage has  occurred in a couple ways. Sometimes, as relational became  almost a buzzword, the claim has been made that mainstream  psychoanalysis has been relational all along. And sometimes  relational authors have been caricatured as the wildest sort of  "anything-goes" clinicians. These developments have made it very  important to try to sort out understandings and terminology in  an effort to locate real differences from both false agreements  and false polarities. 
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xC Eg9Q9EX0I now turn to what I find most significant and most pressing in  psychoanalytic thought and clinical practice today. In terms of  theory, the basic underpinnings of psychoanalytic ideas have  shifted broadly in recent decades-from drive-based to  relational-based concepts. Concurrently, there has been a marked  shift in the center of gravity in analytic thought-from the  biology-culture dialectic that Freud explored to the oneness-twoness  dialectic that pervades much of the contemporary literature.  This is apparent in the ways in which that fundamental  psychoanalytic premise, the unconscious, is now used both in  theory and in clinical practice. 
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@QD|IP5Ky!lc+ey0In Freud's time and in Freud's way of thinking, the unconscious  was dangerous because of its primitiveness. The narcissistic  blow we suffered with the discovery of the unconscious was,  Freud suggested, the horrible truth that we are not masters in  our own house. The masters of the psyche are instinctual  impulses and defenses against instinctual impulses, in all their  complex derivatives and compromises. The unconscious and  resistances to the unconscious were understood in terms of the  emergence of phylogenetic remnants in the life of culture and  the power of biology to destabilize civilization. 
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ykJ\w[ P0This way of thinking about the unconscious surely has enduring  relevance for us. But in our time, and in our most recent  analytic thought, the destabilizing power of the unconscious,  both within our personal experience and as a doctrine, is  increasingly understood not so much in terms of biology but in  terms of otherness or "alterity"-the ways in which oneness is  limited by, in some sense is constituted by, twoness. (Biology  is still enormously important, but it is a differently conceived  biology, not in contrast to nurture but as partly shaped through  nurture.) Our minds are not static structures that we carry  around for display in different contexts. What we carry are  potentials for generating recurrent experiences that are  actualized only in specific contexts, in interpersonal exchanges  with others. (Intrapsychic structure is still very important,  but it is a differently conceived structure-less static, more  contextual, actualizing itself in situations.) Conversely, our  very thought processes are composed of language and interiorized  conversations with others. Therefore, we are embedded, to a  great extent unconsciously, in interpersonal fields, and,  conversely, interpersonal configurations are embedded, to a  great extent unconsciously, in our individual psyches. 
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The great nature-versus-nurture, biology-versus-culture  dialectic shaped Freud's ways of understanding all fundamental  psychoanalytic problems-the unconscious, sexuality, aggression,  fantasy, conflict, and so on. For us, these polarities have been  deconstructed, rethought in more complex terms. We have come to  appreciate the ways in which nature and nurture, as well as  biology and culture, continually interpenetrate and mutually  shape each other, so that traditional psychoanalytic problems  are increasingly refrained in terms of conflictual mental states  and organizations, projective-introjective cycles of  intrapsychic and interpersonal processes, and conflictual  attachments and identifications with different sorts of external  and internal objects. 心理学空间YLvUYPh

"|^1U&j'N0In terms of clinical technique, I believe a very important shift  began about five years ago. With the development of  interpersonal or relational understandings of the analytic  process in the 1970s and 1980s, the analyst's participation in  and influence on the analytic process were understood as being  increasingly important. Countertransference was no longer an  obstacle but a tool, and neutrality was understood as an  influence-masking illusion. The most important contributors to  that understanding, in my view, were Edgar Levenson and Merton  Gill, and both Levenson and Gill placed great importance on the  interpretation of transference-counter-transference dynamics as  the fundamental analytic tool. It is very important not to  assume that the patient's experience of the analyst is a  distortion, a temporal displacement from early childhood, both  argued. The patient reacts to the analyst-through past  experience and unconscious dynamics, to be sure-as a real,  nontransparent person in the here and now. The analyst has to  keep a focus on the patient's experience of the analyst's  participation-for Levenson, through Sullivan's "detailed  inquiry," and for Gill, through continual interpretation of  allusions and resistances to the transference. If the analyst's  impact on the process is not made explicit, the process becomes,  in Levenson's (1983) terms, persuasion rather than cure, and in  Gill's terms, a manipulative transference cure. In this view,  the analyst's interactive involvement in the process is an  inevitable contaminant, but the patient's autonomy can be  preserved by a vigilant analysis of that contaminant. 
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}`)ug6qK9sy!z3n0Over the past five to 10 years, there has been a gradual  realization that there is no way to filter out the analyst's  impact on the process. Continual inquiry, persistent  transference interpretation, and systematic self-disclosure are  hardly ways to limit the analyst's influence. They are, in fact,  very powerful ways of steering and influencing the process. This  realization, I believe, is having a profound impact on the ways  we are now exploring the nature of analytic technique. 
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]:J _&},g%L;V7P n-Z0For previous generations of clinicians, technique referred  primarily to behavior. What should the analyst do? What should  the analyst refrain from doing? This cannot possibly work for  us. We have come to realize that the meaning of whatever the  analyst does or does not do is contextual and coconstructed. The  analyst cannot decide on the meaning of the "frame"  unilaterally. For some patients, silence is a form of holding;  for others, it is a form of torture. For some patients,  interpretation conveys deep recognition and self-expansion; for  others, it is a form of violent exposure. For some patients, the  analyst's self-disclosure might offer a unique and precious form  of authenticity and honesty; for others, it is a form of  charismatic seduction and narcissistic exploitation. For some  patients, questions represent a precious willingness to join and  know them; for others, questions are a surreptitious invasion.  It is no longer compelling to decide that these events are what  we want them to be and that when patients experience them  otherwise they are distorting. Interpersonal situations are  ambiguous and can be interpreted in many different ways,  depending on our past and our dynamics. 心理学空间3U*OEw&^:|(n4K

%v:A Yw7K&gQ0Publication Information: Article Title: My Psychoanalytic  Journey. Contributors: Stephen A. Mitchell - author. Journal  Title: Psychoanalytic Inquiry. Volume: 24. Issue: 4. Publication  Year: 2004. Page Number: 531+. © 2004 Analytic Press.www.psychspace.com心理学空间网
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