Tuesday, March 13, 2007

VIKTOR FRANKL

VIKTOR FRANKL

1905 - 1997

Dr. C. George Boeree
Shippensburg University


In September of 1942, a young doctor, his new bride, his mother, father, and brother, were arrested in Vienna and taken to a concentration camp in Bohemia. It was events that occurred there and at three other camps that led the young doctor -- prisoner 119,104 -- to realize the significance of meaningfulness in life.

One of the earliest events to drive home the point was the loss of a manuscript -- his life's work -- during his transfer to Auschwitz. He had sewn it into the lining of his coat, but was forced to discard it at the last minute. He spent many later nights trying to reconstruct it, first in his mind, then on slips of stolen paper.

Another significant moment came while on a predawn march to work on laying railroad tracks: Another prisoner wondered outloud about the fate of their wives. The young doctor began to think about his own wife, and realized that she was present within him:

The salvation of man is through love and in love. I understood how a man who has nothing left in this world still may know bliss, be it only for a brief moment, in the contemplation of his beloved. (1963, p. 59)
And throughout his ordeal, he could not help but see that, among those given a chance for survival, it was those who held on to a vision of the future -- whether it be a significant task before them, or a return to their loved ones -- that were most likely to survive their suffering.

It would be, in fact, the meaningfulness that could be found in suffering itself that would most impress him:

(T)here is also purpose in that life which is almost barren of both creation and enjoyment and which admits of but one possibility of high moral behavior: namely, in man's attitude to his existence, and existence restricted by external forces.... Without suffering and death human life cannot be complete. (1963, p. 106)
That young doctor was, of course, Viktor Emil Frankl.

Biography

Viktor Frankl was born in Vienna on March 26, 1905. His father, Gabriel Frankl, was a strong, disciplined man from Moravia who worked his way from government stenographer to become the director of the Ministry of Social Service. His mother, Elsa Frankl (née Lion), was more tenderhearted, a pious woman from Prague.

The middle of three children, young Viktor was precocious and intensely curious. Even at the tender age of four, he already knew that he wanted to be a physician.

In high school, Viktor was actively involved in the local Young Socialist Workers organization. His interest in people turned him towards the study of psychology. He finished his high school years with a psychoanalytic essay on the philosopher Schopenhauer, a publication in the International Journal of Psychoanalysis, and the beginning of a rather intense correspondence with the great Sigmund Freud.

In 1925, a year after graduating and on his way towards his medical degree, he met Freud in person. Alfred Adler’s theory was more to Frankl’s liking, though, and that year he published an article -- “Psychotherapy and Weltanschauung” -- in Adler’s International Journal of Individual Psychology. The next year, Frankl used the term logotherapy in a public lecture for the first time, and began to refine his particular brand of Viennese psychology.

In 1928 and 1929, Frankl organized cost-free counseling centers for teenagers in Vienna and six other cities, and began working at the Psychiatric University Clinic. In 1930, he earned his doctorate in medicine, and was promoted to assistant. In the next few years, Frankl continued his training in neurology.

In 1933, He was put in charge of the ward for suicidal women at the Psychiatric Hospital, with many thousands of patients each year. In 1937, Frankl opened his own practice in neurology and psychiatry. One year later, Hitler’s troops invade Austria. He obtained a visa to the U.S. in 1939, but, concerned for his elderly parents, he let it expire.

In 1940, Frankl was made head of the neurological department of Rothschild Hospital, the only hospital for Jews in Vienna during the Nazi regime. He made many false diagnoses of his patients in order to circumvent the new policies requiring euthanasia of the mentally ill. It was during this period that he began his manuscript, Ärztliche Seelsorge -- in English, The Doctor and the Soul.

Frankl married in 1942, but in September of that year, he, his wife, his father, mother, and brother, were all arrested and brought to the concentration camp at Theresienstadt in Bohemia. His father died there of starvation. His mother and brother were killed at Auschwitz in 1944. His wife died at Bergen-Belsen in 1945. Only his sister Stella would survive, having managed to emigrate to Australia a short while earlier.

When he was moved to Auschwitz, his manuscript for The Doctor and the Soul was discovered and destroyed. His desire to complete his work, and his hopes that he would be reunited with his wife and family someday, kept him from losing hope in what seemed otherwise a hopeless situation.

After two more moves to two more camps, Frankl finally succumbed to typhoid fever. He kept himself awake by reconstructing his manuscript on stolen slips of paper. In April of 1945, Frankl’s camp was liberated, and he returned to Vienna, only to discover the deaths of his loved ones. Although nearly broken and very much alone in the world, he was given the position of director of the Vienna Neurological Policlinic -- a position he would hold for 25 years.

He finally reconstructed his book and published it, earning him a teaching appointment at the University of Vienna Medical School. In only 9 days, he dictated another book, which would become Man’s Search for Meaning. Before he died, it sold over nine million copies, five million in the U.S. alone!

During this period, he met a young operating room assistant named Eleonore Schwindt -- “Elly” -- and fell in love at first sight. Although half his age, he credited her with giving him the courage to reestablish himself in the world. They married in 1947, and had a daughter, Gabriele, in December of that year.

In 1948, Frankl received his Ph.D. in philosophy. His dissertation -- The Unconscious God -- was an examination of the relation of psychology and religion. That same year, he was made associate professor of neurology and psychiatry at the University of Vienna. In 1950, he founded and became president of the Austrian Medical Society for Psychotherapy.

After being promoted to full professor, he became increasingly well known in circles outside Vienna. His guest professorships, honorary doctorates, and awards are too many to list here but include the Oskar Pfister Prize by the American Society of Psychiatry and a nomination for the Nobel Peace Prize.

Frankl continued to teach at the University of Vienna until 1990, when he was 85. It should be noted that he was a vigorous mountain climber and earned his airplane pilot’s license when he was 67!

In 1992, friends and family members established the Viktor Frankl Institute in his honor. In 1995, he finished his autobiography, and in 1997, he published his final work, Man’s Search for Ultimate Meaning, based on his doctoral dissertation. He has 32 books to his name, and they have been translated into 27 languages.

Viktor Emil Frankl died on September 2, 1997, of heart failure. He is survived by his wife Eleonore, his daughter Dr. Gabriele Frankl-Vesely, his grandchildren Katharina and Alexander, and his great-granddaughter Anna Viktoria. His impact on psychology and psychiatry will be felt for centuries to come.


Theory

Viktor Frankl’s theory and therapy grew out of his experiences in Nazi death camps. Watching who did and did not survive (given an opportunity to survive!), he concluded that the philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche had it right: “He who has a why to live for can bear with almost any how. " (Friedrich Nietzsche, quoted in 1963, p. 121) He saw that people who had hopes of being reunited with loved ones, or who had projects they felt a need to complete, or who had great faith, tended to have better chances than those who had lost all hope.

He called his form of therapy logotherapy, from the Greek word logos, which can mean study, word, spirit, God, or meaning. It is this last sense Frankl focusses on, although the other meanings are never far off. Comparing himself with those other great Viennese psychiatrists, Freud and Adler, he suggested that Freud essentially postulated a will to pleasure as the root of all human motivation, and Adler a will to power. Logotherapy postulates a will to meaning.

Frankl also uses the Greek word noös, which means mind or spirit. In traditional psychology, he suggests, we focus on “psychodynamics,” which sees people as trying to reduce psychological tension. Instead, or in addition, Frankl says we should pay attention to noödynamics, wherein tension is necessary for health, at least when it comes to meaning. People desire the tension involved in striving for some worthy goal!

Perhaps the original issue with which Frankl was concerned, early in his career as a physician, was the danger of reductionism. Then, as now, medical schools emphasized the idea that all things come down to physiology. Psychology, too, promoted reductionism: Mind could be best understood as a "side effect" of brain mechanisms. The spiritual aspect of human life was (and is) hardly considered worth mentioning at all! Frankl believed that entire generations of doctors and scientists were being indoctrinated into what could only lead to a certain cynicism in the study of human existence.

He set it as his goal to balance the physiological view with a spiritual perspective, and saw this as a significant step towards developing more effective treatment. As he said, "...the de-neuroticization of humanity requires a re-humanization of psychotherapy." (1975, p. 104)

Conscience

One of Viktor Frankl's major concepts is conscience. He sees conscience as a sort of unconscious spirituality, different from the instinctual unconscious that Freud and others emphasize. The conscience is not just one factor among many; it is the core of our being and the source of our personal integrity.

He puts it in no uncertain terms: "... (B)eing human is being responsible -- existentially responsible, responsible for one's own existence." (1975, p. 26) Conscience is intuitive and highly personalized. It refers to a real person in a real situation, and cannot be reduced to simple "universal laws." It must be lived.

He refers to conscience as a "pre-reflective ontological self-understanding" or "the wisdom of the heart," "more sensitive than reason can ever be sensible." (1975, p. 39) It is conscience that "sniffs out" that which gives our lives meaning.

Like Erich Fromm, Frankl notes that animals have instincts to guide them. In traditional societies, we have done well-enough replacing instincts with our social traditions. Today, we hardly even have that. Most attempt to find guidance in conformity and conventionality, but it becomes increasingly difficult to avoid facing the fact that we now have the freedom and the responsibility to make our own choices in life, to find our own meaning.

But "...meaning must be found and cannot be given." (1975, p. 112) Meaning is like laughter, he says: You cannot force someone to laugh, you must tell him a joke! The same applies to faith, hope, and love -- they cannot be be brought forth by an act of will, our own or someone else's.

"...(M)eaning is something to discover rather than to invent." (1975, p. 113) It has a reality of its own, independent of our minds. Like an embedded figure or a "magic eye" picture, it is there to be seen, not something created by our imagination. We may not always be able to bring the image -- or the meaning -- forth, but it is there. It is, he says, "...primarily a perceptual phenomenon. " (1975, p. 115)

Tradition and traditional values are quickly disappearing from many people's lives. But, while that is difficult for us, it need not lead us into despair: Meaning is not tied to society's values. Certainly, each society attempts to summarize meaningfulness in its codes of conduct, but ultimately, meanings are unique to each individual.

"...(M)an must be equipped with the capacity to listen to and obey the ten thousand demands and commandments hidden in the ten thousand situations with which life is confronting him." (1975, p. 120) And it is our job as physicians, therapists, and educators to assist people in developing their individual consciences and finding and fulfilling their unique meanings.

The existential vacuum

This striving after meaning can, of course, be frustrated, and this frustration can lead to noögenic neurosis, what others might call spiritual or existential neurosis. People today seem more than ever to be experiencing their lives as empty, meaningless, purposeless, aimless, adrift, and so on, and seem to be responding to these experiences with unusual behaviors that hurt themselves, others, society, or all three.

One of his favorite metaphors is the existential vacuum. If meaning is what we desire, then meaninglessness is a hole, an emptiness, in our lives. Whenever you have a vacuum, of course, things rush in to fill it. Frankl suggests that one of the most conspicuous signs of existential vacuum in our society is boredom. He points out how often people, when they finally have the time to do what they want, don’t seem to want to do anything! People go into a tailspin when they retire; students get drunk every weekend; we submerge ourselves in passive entertainment every evening. The "Sunday neurosis," he calls it.

So we attempt to fill our existential vacuums with “stuff” that, because it provides some satisfaction, we hope will provide ultimate satisfaction as well: We might try to fill our lives with pleasure, eating beyond all necessity, having promiscuous sex, living “the high life;” or we might seek power, especially the power represented by monetary success; or we might fill our lives with “busy-ness,” conformity, conventionality; or we might fill the vacuum with anger and hatred and spend our days attempting to destroy what we think is hurting us. We might also fill our lives with certain neurotic “vicious cycles,” such as obsession with germs and cleanliness, or fear-driven obsession with a phobic object. The defining quality of these vicious cycles is that, whatever we do, it is never enough.

These neurotic vicious cycles are founded on something Frankl refers to as anticipatory anxiety: Someone may be so afraid of getting certain anxiety-related symptoms that getting those symptoms becomes inevitable. The anticipatory anxiety causes the very thing that is feared! Test anxiety is an obvious example: If you are afraid of doing poorly on tests, the anxiety will prevent you from doing well on the test, leading you to be afraid of tests, and so on.

A similar idea is hyperintention. This is a matter of trying too hard, which itself prevents you from succeeding at something. One of the most common examples is insomnia: Many people, when they can’t sleep, continue to try to fall asleep, using every method in the book. Of course, trying to sleep itself prevents sleep, so the cycle continues. Another example is the way so many of us today feel we must be exceptional lovers: Men feel they must “last” as long as possible, and women feel obliged to not only have orgasms, but to have multiple orgasms, and so on. Too much concern in this regard, of course, leads to an inability to relax and enjoy oneself!

A third variation is hyperreflection. In this case it is a matter of “thinking too hard.” Sometimes we expect something to happen, so it does, simply because its occurrence is strongly tied to one’s beliefs or attitudes -- the self-fulfilling prophecy. Frankl mentions a woman who had had bad sexual experiences in childhood but who had nevertheless developed a strong and healthy personality. When she became familiar with psychological literature suggesting that such experiences should leave one with an inability to enjoy sexual relations, she began having such problems!

His understanding of the existential vacuum goes back to his experiences in the Nazi death camps. As the day-to-day things that offer people a sense of meaning -- work, family, the small pleasures of life -- were taken from a prisoner, his future would seem to disappear. Man, says Frankl, "can only live by looking to the future." (1963 , p. 115) "The prisoner who had lost faith in the future -- his future -- was doomed." (1963, p. 117)

While few people seeking psychological help today are suffering the extremes of the concentration camp, Frankl feels that the problems caused by the existential vacuum are not only common, but rapidly spreading throughout society. He points out the ubiquitous complaint of a "feeling of futility," which he also refers to as the abyss experience.

Even the political and economic extremes of today's world can be seen as the reverberations of futility: We seem to be caught between the automaton conformity of western consumer culture and totalitarianism in its communist, fascist, and theocratic flavors. Hiding in mass society, or hiding in authoritarianism -- either direction caters to the person who wishes to deny the emptiness of his or her life.

Frankl calls depression, addiction, and aggression the mass neurotic triad. He refers to research that shows a strong relationship between meaninglessness (as measured by "purpose in life" tests) and such behaviors as criminality and involvement with drugs. He warns us that violence, drug use, and other negative behaviors, demonstrated daily on television, in movies, even in music, only convinces the meaning-hungry that their lives can improve by imitation of their "heroes." Even sports, he suggests, only encourage aggression.

Psychopathology

Frankl gives us details as to the origin of a variety of psychopathologies. For example, various anxiety neuroses are seen as founded on existential anxiety -- "the sting of conscience." (1973, p. 179) The individual, not understanding that his anxiety is due to his sense of unfulfilled responsibility and a lack of meaning, takes that anxiety and focuses it upon some problematic detail of life. The hypochondriac, for example, focuses his anxiety on some horrible disease; the phobic focuses on some object that has caused him concern in the past; the agoraphobic sees her anxiety as coming from the world outside her door; the patient with stage fright or speech anxiety focuses on the stage or the podium. The anxiety neurotic thus makes sense of his or her discomfort with life.

He notes, that "Sometimes, but not always, it (the neurosis) serves to tyrannize a member of the family or is used to justify oneself to others or to the self..." (1973, p. 181) but warns that this is, as others have noted as well, secondary to the deeper issues.

Obsessive-compulsive disorder works in a similar fashion. The obsessive-compulsive person is lacking the sense of completion that most people have. Most of us are satisfied with near certainty about, for example, a simple task like locking one's door at night; the obsessive-compulsive requires a perfect certainty that is, ultimately, unattainable. Because perfection in all things is, even for the obsessive-compusive, an impossibility, he or she focusses attention on some domain in life that has caused difficulties in the past.

The therapist should attempt to help the patient to relax and not fight the tendencies to repeat thoughts and actions. Further, the patient needs to come to recognize his temperamental inclinations towards perfection as fate and learn to accept at least a small degree of uncertainty. But ultimately, the obsessive-compulsive, and the anxiety neurotic as well, must find meaning. "As soon as life's fullness of meaning is rediscovered, the neurotic anxiety... no longer has anything to fasten on." (1973, p. 182)

Like most existential psychologists, Frankl acknowledges the importance of genetic and physiological factors on psychopathology. He sees depression, for example, as founded in a "vital low," i.e. a diminishment of physical energy. On the psychological level, he relates depression to the feelings of inadequacy we feel when we are confronted by tasks that are beyond our capacities, physical or mental.

On the spiritual level, Frankl views depression as "tension between what the person is and what he ought to be." (1973, p. 202) The person's goals seem unreachable to him, and he loses a sense of his own future. Over time, he becomes disgusted at himself and projects that disgust onto others or even humanity in general. The ever-present gap between what is and what should be becomes a "gaping abyss." (1973, p. 202)

Schizophrenia is also understood by Frankl as rooted in a physiological dysfunction, in this case one which leads to the person experiencing himself as an object rather than a subject.

Most of us, when we have thoughts, recognize them as coming from within our own minds. We "own" them, as modern jargon puts it. The schizophrenic, for reasons still not understood, is forced to take a passive perspective on those thoughts, and perceives them as voices. And he may watch himself and distrust himself -- which he experiences passively, as being watched and persecuted.

Frankl believes that this passivity is rooted in an exaggerated tendency to self-observation. It is as if there were a separation of the self as viewer and the self as viewed. The viewing self, devoid of content, seems barely real, while the viewed self seems alien.

Although logotherapy was not designed to deal with severe psychoses, Frankl nevertheless feels that it can help: By teaching the schizophrenic to ignore the voices and stop the constant self-observation, while simultaneously leading him or her towards meaningful activity, the therapist may be able to short-circuit the vicious cycle.

Finding meaning

So how do we find meaning? Frankl discusses three broad approaches. The first is through experiential values, that is, by experiencing something -- or someone -- we value. This can include Maslow’s peak experiences and esthetic experiences such as viewing great art or natural wonders.

The most important example of experiential values is the love we feel towards another. Through our love, we can enable our beloved to develop meaning, and by doing so, we develop meaning ourselves! Love, he says, "is the ultimate and the highest goal to which man can aspire." (1963, pp. 58-59)

Frankl points out that, in modern society, many confuse sex with love. Without love, he says, sex is nothing more than masturbation, and the other is nothing more than a tool to be used, a means to an end. Sex can only be fully enjoyed as the physical expression of love.

Love is the recognition of the uniqueness of the other as an individual, with an intuitive understanding of their full potential as human beings. Frankl believes this is only possible within monogamous relationships. As long as partners are interchangeable, they remain objects.

A second means of discovering meaning is through creative values, by “doing a deed,” as he puts it. This is the traditional existential idea of providing oneself with meaning by becoming involved in one’s projects, or, better, in the project of one’s own life. It includes the creativity involved in art, music, writing, invention, and so on.

Frankl views creativity (as well as love) as a function of the spiritual unconscious, that is, the conscience. The irrationality of artistic production is the same as the intuition that allows us to recognize the good. He provides us with an interesting example:

We know a case in which a violinist always tried to play as consciously as possible. From putting his violin in place on his shoulder to the most trifling technical detail, he wanted to do everything consciously, to perform in full self-reflection. This led to a complete artistic breakdown.... Treatment had to give back to the patient his trust in the unconscious, by having him realize how much more musical his unconscious was than his conscious. (1975, p. 38)
The third means of finding meaning is one few people besides Frankl talk about: attitudinal values. Attitudinal values include such virtues as compassion, bravery, a good sense of humor, and so on. But Frankl's most famous example is achieving meaning by way of suffering.

He gives an example concerning one of his clients: A doctor whose wife had died mourned her terribly. Frankl asked him, “if you had died first, what would it have been like for her?” The doctor answered that it would have been incredibly difficult for her. Frankl then pointed out that, by her dying first, she had been spared that suffering, but that now he had to pay the price by surviving and mourning her. In other words, grief is the price we pay for love. For the doctor, this thought gave his wife's death and his own pain meaning, which in turn allowed him to deal with it. His suffering becomes something more: With meaning, suffering can be endured with dignity.

Frankl also notes that seriously ill people are not often given an opportunity to suffer bravely, and thereby retain some dignity. Cheer up! we say. Be optimistic! Often, they are made to feel ashamed of their pain and unhappiness.

In Man's Search for Meaning, he says this: "...everything can be taken from a man but one thing: the last of the human freedoms -- to choose one's attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one's own way." (1963, p. 104)

Transcendence

Ultimately, however, experiential, creative, and attitudinal values are merely surface manifestations of something much more fundamental, which he calls supra-meaning or transcendence. Here we see Frankl’s religious bent: Suprameaning is the idea that there is, in fact, ultimate meaning in life, meaning that is not dependent on others, on our projects, or even on our dignity. It is a reference to God and spiritual meaning.

This sets Frankl’s existentialism apart from the existentialism of someone like Jean Paul Sartre. Sartre and other atheistic existentialists suggest that life is ultimately meaningless, and we must find the courage to face that meaninglessness. Sartre says we must learn to endure ultimate meaninglessness; Frankl instead says that we need to learn to endure our inability to fully comprehend ultimate meaningfulness, for “Logos is deeper than logic.”

Again, it was his experiences in the death camps that led him to these conclusions: "In spite of all the enforced physical and mental primitiveness of the life in a concentration camp, it was possible for spiritual life to deepen.... They were able to retreat from their terrible surroundings to a life of inner riches and spiritual freedom." (1963, p. 56) This certainly does contrast with Sigmund Freud's perspective, as expressed in The Future of an Illusion: "Religion is the universal compulsive neurosis of mankind...." (quoted in 1975, p. 69)

It should be understood that Frankl's ideas about religion and spirituality are considerably broader than most. His God is not the God of the narrow mind, not the God of one denomination or another. It is not even the God of institutional religion. God is very much a God of the inner human being, a God of the heart. Even the atheist or the agnostic, he points out, may accept the idea of transcendence without making use of the word "God." Allow me to let Frankl speak for himself:

This unconscious religiousness, revealed by our phenomenological analysis, is to be understood as a latent relation to transcendence inherent in man. If one prefers, he might conceive of this relation in terms of a relationship between the immanent self and a transcendent thou. However one wishes to formulate it, we are confronted with what I should like to term "the transcendent unconscious. This concept means no more or less than that man has always stood in an intentional relation to transcendence, even if only on an unconscious level. If one calls the intentional referent of such an unconscious relation "God," it is apt to speak of an "unconscious God." (1975, pp. 61-62)
It must also be understood that this "unconscious God" is not anything like the archetypes Jung talks about. This God is clearly transcendent, and yet profoundly personal. He is there, according to Frankl, within each of us, and it is merely a matter of our acknowledging that presence that will bring us to suprameaning. On the other hand, turning away from God is the ultimate source of all the ills we have already discussed.: "...(O)nce the angel in us is repressed, he turns into a demon." (1975, p. 70)

Therapy

Viktor Frankl is nearly as well known for certain clinical details of his approach as for his overall theory. The first of these details is a technique known as paradoxical intention, which is useful in breaking down the neurotic vicious cycles brought on by anticipatory anxiety and hyperintention.

Paradoxical intention is a matter of wishing the very thing you are afraid of. A young man who sweated profusely whenever he was in social situations was told by Frankl to wish to sweat. “I only sweated out a quart before, but now I’m going to pour at least ten quarts!” (1973, p. 223) was among his instructions. Of course, when it came down to it, the young man couldn’t do it. The absurdity of the task broke the vicious cycle.

The capacity human beings have of taking an objective stance towards their own life, or stepping outside themselves, is the basis, Frankl tells us, for humor. And, as he noted in the camps, "Humor was another of the soul's weapons in the fight for self-preservation." (1963, p. 68)

Another example concerns sleep problems: If you suffer from insomnia, according to Frankl, don’t spend the night tossing and turning and trying to sleep. Get up! Try to stay up as long as you can! Over time, you’ll find yourself gratefully crawling back into bed.

A second technique is called dereflection. Frankl believes that many problems stem from an overemphasis on oneself. By shifting attention away from oneself and onto others, problems often disappear. If, for example, you have difficulties with sex, try to satisfy your partner without seeking your own gratification. Concerns over erections and orgasms disappear -- and satisfaction reappears! Or don’t try to satisfy anyone at all. Many sex therapists suggest that a couple do nothing but “pet,” avoiding orgasms "at all costs." These couples often find they can barely last the evening before what they had previously had difficulties with simply happens!

Frankl insists that, in today's world, there is far too much emphasis on self reflection. Since Freud, we have been encouraged to look into ourselves, to dig out our deepest motivations. Frankl even refers to this tendency as our "collective obsessive neurosis." (1975, p. 95) Focusing on ourselves this way actually serves to turn us away from meaning!

For all the interest these techniques have aroused, Frankl insists that, ultimately, the problems these people face are a matter of their need for meaning. So, although these and other techniques are a fine beginning to therapy, they are not by any means the goal.

Perhaps the most significant task for the therapist is to assist the client in rediscovering the latent religiousness that Frankl believes exists in each of us. This cannot be pushed, however: "Genuine religiousness must unfold in its own time. Never can anyone be forced to it." (1975, p. 72) The therapist must allow the patient to discover his or her own meanings.

"(H)uman existence -- at least as long as it has not been neurotically distorted -- is always directed to something, or someone, other than itself -- be it a meaning to fulfill or another human being to encounter lovingly." (1975, p. 78) Frankl calls this self-transcendence, and contrasts it with self-actualization as Maslow uses the term. Self-actualization, even pleasure and happiness, are side-effects of self-transcendence and the discovery of meaning. He quotes Albert Schweitzer: "The only ones among you who will be really happy are those who have sought and found how to serve." (Quoted in 1975, p. 85)

In conclusion

Even if you (like me) are not of a religious inclination, it is difficult to ignore Frankl's message: There exists, beyond instincts and "selfish genes," beyond classical and operant conditioning, beyond the imperatives of biology and culture, a special something, uniquely human, uniquely personal. For much of psychology's history, we have, in the name of science, tried to eliminate the "soul" from our professional vocabularies. But perhaps it is time to follow Frankl's lead and reverse the years of reductionism.


Discussion

For all my admiration of Frankl and his theory, I also have some strong reservations. Frankl attempts to re-insert religion into psychology, and does so in a particularly subtle and seductive manner. It is difficult to argue with someone who has been through what Frankl has been through, and seen what he has seen. And yet, suffering is no automatic guarantee of truth! By couching religion in the most tolerant and lliberal language, he nevertheless is asking us to base our understanding of human existence on faith, on a blind acceptance of the existence of ultimate truth, without evidence other than the "feelings" and intuitions and anecdotes of those who already believe. This is, in fact, a dangerous precedent, and there is much "pop psychology" based on these ideas. The same tendency applies to the quasi-religious theories of Carl Jung and Abraham Maslow.

Frankl, like May and others, refers to himself as an existentialist. Many others with religious tendencies do likewise. They have even elevated Kierkegaard to the honorary position of founder of existentialism -- a word Kierkegaard had never heard. And yet faith, which asks one to surrender one's skepticism to a God or other universal principle, is intrinsically at odds with the most basic concepts of existentialism. Religion -- even liberal religion -- always posits essences at the root of human existence. Existentialism does not.


References

Frankl, V. E. (1963). (I. Lasch, Trans.) Man's Search for Meaning: An Introduction to Logotherapy. New York: Washington Square Press. (Earlier title, 1959: From Death-Camp to Existentialism. Originally published in 1946 as Ein Psycholog erlebt das Konzentrationslager)

Frankl, V. E. (1967). Psychotherapy and Existentialism : Selected Papers on Logotherapy. New York : Simon and Schuster.

Frankl, V. E. (1973). (R. and C. Winston, Trans.) The Doctor and the Soul: From Psychotherapy to Logotherapy. New York: Vintage Books. (Originally published in 1946 as Ärztliche Seelsorge.)

Frankl, V. E. (1975). The Unconscious God: Psychotherapy and Theology. New York: Simon and Schuster. (Originally published in 1948 as Der unbewusste Gott. Republished in 1997 as Man's Search for Ultimate Meaning.)

Frankl, V. E. (1996). Viktor Frankl -- Recollections: An Autobiography. (J. and J. Fabray, Trans.) New York: Plenum Publishing. (Originally published in 1995 as Was nicht in meinen Büchern steht.)


Copyright 1998, 2002, 2006 C. George Boeree

MEDARD BOSS

MEDARD BOSS

1903 - 1990

Dr. C. George Boeree


It is hard to imagine better preparation for a career in psychotherapy. Born in St. Gallen, Switzerland, on October 4, 1903, Medard Boss grew up in Zurich during a time when Zurich was a center for psychological activity. He received his medical degree from the University there in 1928, taking time along the way to study in Paris and Vienna and to be analyzed by Sigmund Freud himself.

After four years at the Burgholzli hospital, as an assistant to Eugen Bleuler, he went on to study in Berlin and London, where his teachers included several people in Freud's inner circle as well as Karen Horney and Kurt Goldstein. Beginning in 1938, he became associated with Carl Jung, who revealed to Boss the possibility of a psychoanalysis not bound up in Freudian interpretations.

Over time, Boss read the works of Ludwig Binswanger and Martin Heidegger. But it was his meeting, in 1946, and eventual friendship with Heidegger that turned him forever to existential psychology. His impact on existential therapy has been so great that he is often mentioned together with Ludwig Binswanger as its cofounder.

Theory

While Binswanger and Boss agree on the basics of existential psychology, Boss sticks somewhat closer to Heidegger's original ideas. Boss doesn't like, for example, Binswanger's ideas about "world-design:" He feels that the idea of people coming to the world with preformed expectations distracts from the more basic existential point that the world is not something we interpret, but something that reveals itself to the "light" of Dasein.

The analogy of light plays an important part in Boss's theory. The word phenomenon, for example, literally means "to shine forth," "to come out of the darkness." And so Boss views Dasein as a lumination which brings things "to light."

This idea has a profound effect on how Boss understands things like psychopathology, defenses, therapeutic style, and the interpretation of dreams. Defensiveness, for example, is a matter of not illuminating some aspect of life, and psychopathology is analogous to choosing to live in the darkness. Therapy, on the other hand, involves reversing this constriction of our basic openness, and we could call it "enlightenment!"

One of his most important suggestions for the client is to "let things go" (Gelassenheit). Most of us try too hard to keep a tight rein on our lives, to keep control. But life is too much for us. We need to trust it a little, trust to "fate" a bit, jump into life instead of forever testing the waters. Instead of keeping the light of Dasein tightly focused, we should let it shine more freely.

Existentials

While Binswanger likes to use Heidegger's Umwelt, Mitwelt, and Eigenwelt, Boss prefers Heidegger's existentials, the things in life that we all have to deal with. He is interested, for example, in how people see space and time -- not the physical space and time of measured distances and clocks and calendars, but human space and time, personal space and time. Someone from long ago, who now lives far away, may be closer to you than the person next to you right now.

He is also interested in how we relate to our bodies. My openness to the world will be expressed by my bodily openness and my extension of my body out into the world, what he calls my "bodying forth."

Our relationship with others is as important to Boss as it is to Binswanger. We are not individuals locked up inside our bodies; We live rather in a shared world, and we illuminate each other. Human existence is shared existence.

A particularly "Bossian" concern is mood or attunement: Boss suggested that, while we are always illuminating the world, we sometimes illuminate one thing more than another, or illuminate with different hues. It's no different from how we try to set a certain mood by lighting a room one way rather than another.

For example, if you are in an angry mood, you are "attuned" to angry things, angry thoughts, angry actions; you "see red." If you are in a cheerful mood, you are "attuned" to cheerful things, and the world seems "sunny." If you are hungry, all you see is food; if you are anxious, all you see are threats.

Dreams

Boss has studied dreams more than any other existentialist, and considers them important in therapy. But instead of interpreting them as Freudians or Jungians do, he allows them to reveal their own meanings. Everything is not hiding behind a symbol, hiding from the always-present censor. Instead, dreams show us how we are illuminating our lives: If we feel trapped, our feet will be bound by cement; if we feel free, we will fly; if we feel guilty, we will dream about sin; if we feel anxious, we will be chased by frightening things.

For example, Boss discusses a man who was having sexual difficulties and feeling quite depressed. During the first months of his therapy, he dreamed only of machinery -- not unusual for an engineer, but not terribly exciting, either. As his therapy progressed, his dreams changed. He began to dream of plants. Then he dreamt of insects -- dangerous, perhaps, and threatening, but at least alive. Then he dreamt of frogs and snakes, then of mice and rabbits. For some time, pigs were featured.

Two years into therapy, and finally he began to dream of women! This man was sad and lonely because he had retreated to a world made up only of machinery, and it took a long time before he could dream of anything quite so warm-blooded as a woman! The point to notice is that the pigs don't represent anything -- not hidden wishes, or archetypes, or inferiorities -- in the therapist's pet theory. They belong to the engineer; They are what his evolving illumination brought to light at that time in his life!

You can find Boss's theory spelled out in Existential Foundations of Medicine and Psychology. Psychoanalysis and Daseinsanalysis contrasts Freudian and existential therapy. His work on dream analysis can be found in The Analysis of Dreams and I Dreamt Last Night....


Copyright 1998, C. George Boeree

HANS EYSENCK

HANS EYSENCK

(1916 - 1997)

(AND OTHER TEMPERAMENT THEORISTS)

Dr. C. George Boeree


This chapter is devoted to theories of temperament. Temperament is that aspect of our personalities that is genetically based, inborn, there from birth or even before. That does not mean that a temperament theory says we don't also have aspects of our personality that are learned! They just have a focus on "nature," and leave "nurture" to other theorists!

The issue of personality types, including temperament, is as old as psychology. In fact, it is a good deal older. The ancient Greeks, to take the obvious example, had given it considerable thought, and came up with two dimensions of temperament, leading to four “types,” based on what kind of fluids (called humors) they had too much or too little of. This theory became popular during the middle ages.

The sanguine type is cheerful and optimistic, pleasant to be with, comfortable with his or her work. According to the Greeks, the sanguine type has a particularly abundant supply of blood (hence the name sanguine, from sanguis, Latin for blood) and so also is characterized by a healthful look, including rosy cheeks.

The choleric type is characterized by a quick, hot temper, often an aggressive nature. The name refers to bile (a chemical that is excreted by the gall bladder to aid in digestion). Physical features of the choleric person include a yellowish complexion and tense muscles.

Next, we have the phlegmatic temperament. These people are characterized by their slowness, laziness, and dullness. The name obviously comes from the word phlegm, which is the mucus we bring up from our lungs when we have a cold or lung infection. Physically, these people are thought to be kind of cold, and shaking hands with one is like shaking hands with a fish.

Finally, there’s the melancholy temperament. These people tend to be sad, even depressed, and take a pessimistic view of the world. The name has, of course, been adopted as a synonym for sadness, but comes from the Greek words for black bile. Now, since there is no such thing, we don’t quite know what the ancient Greeks were referring to. But the melancholy person was thought to have too much of it!

These four types are actually the corners of two dissecting lines: temperature and humidity. Sanguine people are warm and wet. Choleric people are warm and dry. Phlegmatic people are cool and wet. Melancholy people are cool and dry. There were even theories suggesting that different climates were related to different types, so that Italians (warm and moist) were sanguine, Arabs (warm and dry) were choleric, Russians (cool and dry) were melancholy, and Englishmen (cool and wet) were phlegmatic!

What might surprise you is that this theory, based on so little, has actually had an influence on several modern theorists. Adler, for example, related these types to his four personalities. But, more to the point, Ivan Pavlov, of classical conditioning fame, used the humors to describe his dogs’ personalities.

One of the things Pavlov tried with his dogs was conflicting conditioning -- ringing a bell that signaled food at the same time as another bell that signaled the end of the meal. Some dogs took it well, and maintain their cheerfulness. Some got angry and barked like crazy. Some just laid down and fell asleep. And some whimpered and whined and seemed to have a nervous breakdown. I don’t need to tell you which dog is which temperament!

Pavlov believed that he could account for these personality types with two dimensions: On the one hand there is the overall level of arousal (called excitation) that the dogs’ brains had available. On the other, there was the ability the dogs’ brains had of changing their level of arousal -- i.e. the level of inhibition that their brains had available. Lots of arousal, but good inhibition: sanguine. Lots of arousal, but poor inhibition: choleric. Not much arousal, plus good inhibition: phlegmatic. Not much arousal, plus poor inhibition: melancholy. Arousal would be analogous to warmth, inhibition analogous to moisture! This became the inspiration for Hans Eysenck’s theory.


Biography

Hans Eysenck was born in Germany on March 4, 1916. His parents were actors who divorced when he was only two, and so Hans was raised by his grandmother. He left there when he was 18 years old, when the Nazis came to power. As an active Jewish sympathizer, his life was in danger.

In England, he continued his education, and received his Ph.D. in Psychology from the University of London in 1940. During World War II, he served as a psychologist at an emergency hospital, where he did research on the reliability of psychiatric diagnoses. The results led him to a life-long antagonism to main-stream clinical psychology.

After the war, he taught at the University of London, as well as serving as the director of the psychology department of the Institute of Psychiatry, associated with Bethlehem Royal Hospital. He has written 75 books and some 700 articles, making him one of the most prolific writers in psychology. Eysenck retired in 1983 and continued to write until his death on September 4, 1997.


Theory

Eysenck’s theory is based primarily on physiology and genetics. Although he is a behaviorist who considers learned habits of great importance, he considers personality differences as growing out of our genetic inheritance. He is, therefore, primarily interested in what is usually called temperament.

Eysenck is also primarily a research psychologist. His methods involve a statistical technique called factor analysis. This technique extracts a number of “dimensions” from large masses of data. For example, if you give long lists of adjectives to a large number of people for them to rate themselves on, you have prime raw material for factor analysis.

Imagine, for example, a test that included words like “shy,” “introverted,” “outgoing,” “wild,” and so on. Obviously, shy people are likely to rate themselves high on the first two words, and low on the second two. Outgoing people are likely to do the reverse. Factor analysis extracts dimensions -- factors -- such as shy-outgoing from the mass of information. The researcher then examines the data and gives the factor a name such as “introversion-extraversion.” There are other techniques that will find the “best fit” of the data to various possible dimension, and others still that will find “higher level” dimensions -- factors that organize the factors, like big headings organize little headings.

Eysenck's original research found two main dimensions of temperament: neuroticism and extraversion-introversion. Let’s look at each one...

Neuroticism

Neuroticism is the name Eysenck gave to a dimension that ranges from normal, fairly calm and collected people to one’s that tend to be quite “nervous.” His research showed that these nervous people tended to suffer more frequently from a variety of “nervous disorders” we call neuroses, hence the name of the dimension. But understand that he was not saying that people who score high on the neuroticism scale are necessarily neurotics -- only that they are more susceptible to neurotic problems.

Eysenck was convinced that, since everyone in his data-pool fit somewhere on this dimension of normality-to-neuroticism, this was a true temperament, i.e. that this was a genetically-based, physiologically-supported dimension of personality. He therefore went to the physiological research to find possible explanations.

The most obvious place to look was at the sympathetic nervous system. This is a part of the autonomic nervous system that functions separately from the central nervous system and controls much of our emotional responsiveness to emergency situations. For example, when signals from the brain tell it to do so, the sympathetic nervous systems instructs the liver to release sugar for energy, causes the digestive system to slow down, opens up the pupils, raises the hairs on your body (goosebumps), and tells the adrenal glands to release more adrenalin (epinephrine). The adrenalin in turn alters many of the body’s functions and prepares the muscles for action. The traditional way of describing the function of the sympathetic nervous system is to say that it prepares us for “fight or flight.”

Eysenck hypothesized that some people have a more responsive sympathetic nervous system than others. Some people remain very calm during emergencies; some people feel considerable fear or other emotions; and some are terrified by even very minor incidents. He suggested that this latter group had a problem of sympathetic hyperactivity, which made them prime candidates for the various neurotic disorders.

Perhaps the most “archetypal” neurotic symptom is the panic attack. Eysenck explained panic attacks as something like the positive feedback you get when you place a microphone too close to a speaker: The small sounds entering the mike get amplified and come out of the speaker, and go into the mike, get amplified again, and come out of the speaker again, and so on, round and round, until you get the famous squeal that we all loved to produce when we were kids. (Lead guitarists like to do this too to make some of their long, wailing sounds.)

Well, the panic attack follows the same pattern: You are mildly frightened by something -- crossing a bridge, for example. This gets your sympathetic nervous system going. That makes you more nervous, and so more susceptible to stimulation, which gets your system even more in an uproar, which makes you more nervous and more susceptible.... You could say that the neuroticistic person is responding more to his or her own panic than to the original object of fear! As someone who has had panic attacks, I can vouch for Eysenck’s description -- although his explanation remains only a hypothesis.

Extraversion-introversion

His second dimension is extraversion-introversion. By this he means something very similar to what Jung meant by the same terms, and something very similar to our common-sense understanding of them: Shy, quiet people “versus” out-going, even loud people. This dimension, too, is found in everyone, but the physiological explanation is a bit more complex.

Eysenck hypothesized that extraversion-introversion is a matter of the balance of “inhibition” and “excitation” in the brain itself. These are ideas that Pavlov came up with to explain some of the differences he found in the reactions of his various dogs to stress. Excitation is the brain waking itself up, getting into an alert, learning state. Inhibition is the brain calming itself down, either in the usual sense of relaxing and going to sleep, or in the sense of protecting itself in the case of overwhelming stimulation.

Someone who is extraverted, he hypothesized, has good, strong inhibition: When confronted by traumatic stimulation -- such as a car crash -- the extravert’s brain inhibits itself, which means that it becomes “numb,” you might say, to the trauma, and therefore will remember very little of what happened. After the car crash, the extravert might feel as if he had “blanked out” during the event, and may ask others to fill them in on what happened. Because they don’t feel the full mental impact of the crash, they may be ready to go back to driving the very next day.

The introvert, on the other hand, has poor or weak inhibition: When trauma, such as the car crash, hits them, their brains don’t protect them fast enough, don’t in any way shut down. Instead, they are highly alert and learn well, and so remember everything that happened. They might even report that they saw the whole crash “in slow motion!” They are very unlikely to want to drive anytime soon after the crash, and may even stop driving altogether.

Now, how does this lead to shyness or a love of parties? Well, imagine the extravert and the introvert both getting drunk, taking off their clothes, and dancing buck naked on a restaurant table. The next morning, the extravert will ask you what happened (and where are his clothes). When you tell him, he’ll laugh and start making arrangements to have another party. The introvert, on the other hand, will remember every mortifying moment of his humiliation, and may never come out of his room again. (I’m very introverted, and again I can vouch to a lot of this experientially! Perhaps some of you extraverts can tell me if he describes your experiences well, too -- assuming, of course, that you can remember you experiences!)

One of the things that Eysenck discovered was that violent criminals tend to be non-neuroticistic extraverts. This makes common sense, if you think about it: It is hard to imagine somebody who is painfully shy and who remembers their experiences and learns from them holding up a Seven-Eleven! It is even harder to imagine someone given to panic attacks doing so. But please understand that there are many kinds of crime besides the violent kind that introverts and neurotics might engage in!

Neuroticism and extraversion-introversion

Another thing Eysenck looked into was the interaction of the two dimensions and what that might mean in regard to various psychological problems. He found, for example, that people with phobias and obsessive-compulsive disorder tended to be quite introverted, whereas people with conversion disorders (e.g. hysterical paralysis) or dissociative disorders (e.g. amnesia) tended to be more extraverted.

Here’s his explanation: Highly neuroticistic people over-respond to fearful stimuli; If they are introverts, they will learn to avoid the situations that cause panic very quickly and very thoroughly, even to the point of becoming panicky at small symbols of those situations -- they will develop phobias. Other introverts will learn (quickly and thoroughly) particular behaviors that hold off their panic -- such as checking things many times over or washing their hands again and again.

Highly neuroticistic extraverts, on the other hand, are good at ignoring and forgetting the things that overwhelm them. They engage in the classic defense mechanisms, such as denial and repression. They can conveniently forget a painful weekend, for example, or even “forget” their ability to feel and use their legs.

Psychoticism

Eysenck came to recognize that, although he was using large populations for his research, there were some populations he was not tapping. He began to take his studies into the mental institutions of England. When these masses of data were factor analyzed, a third significant factor began to emerge, which he labeled psychoticism.

Like neuroticism, high psychoticism does not mean you are psychotic or doomed to become so -- only that you exhibit some qualities commonly found among psychotics, and that you may be more susceptible, given certain environments, to becoming psychotic.

As you might imagine, the kinds of qualities found in high psychoticistic people include a certain recklessness, a disregard for common sense or conventions, and a degree of inappropriate emotional expression. It is the dimension that separates those people who end up institutions from the rest of humanity!

For a highly abbreviated minitest, click here!


Discussion

Hans Eysenck was an iconoclast -- someone who enjoyed attacking established opinion. He was an early and vigorous critic of the effectiveness of psychotherapy, especially the Freudian variety. He also criticized the scientific nature of much of the academic varieties of psychology. As a hard-core behaviorist, he felt that only the scientific method (as he understood it) could give us an accurate understanding of human beings. As a statistician, he felt that mathematical methods were essential. As a physiologically-oriented psychologist, he felt that physiological explanations were the only valid ones.

Of course, we can argue with him on all these points: Phenomenology and other qualitative methods are also considered scientific by many. Some things are not so easily reduced to numbers, and factor analysis in particular is a technique not all statisticians approve of. And it is certainly debatable that all things must have a physiological explanation -- even B. F. Skinner, the arch-behaviorist, thought more in terms of conditioning -- a psychological process -- than in terms of physiology.

And yet, his descriptions of various types of people, and of how they can be understood physically, ring particularly true. And most parents, teachers, and child psychologists will more than support the idea that kids have built-in differences in their personalities that begin at birth (and even before), and which no amount of re-education will touch. Although I personally am not a behaviorist, dislike statistics, and am more culturally oriented that biologically, I agree with the basics of Eysenck’s theory. You, of course, have to make up your own mind!


References

It's hard to pick out just a few of Eysenck's books -- there are so many! "The" text on his theory is probably The Biological Basis of Personality (1967), but it is a bit hard. The more "pop" book is Psychology is about People (1972). If you are interested in psychoticism, try Psychoticism as a Dimension of Personality (1976). And if you want to understand his view of criminality, see Crime and Personality (1964). His unusual, but interesting, theory about personality and cancer and heart disease -- he thinks personality is more significant than smoking, for example! -- is summarized in Psychology Today (December, 1989).


OTHER TEMPERAMENT THEORIES

There have been literally dozens of other attempts at discovering the basic human temperaments. Here are a few of the better known theories.


Your body and your personality

In the 1950’s, William Sheldon (b. 1899) became interested in the variety of human bodies. He built upon earlier work done by Ernst Kretschmer in the 1930's. Kretschmer believed that there was a relationship between three different physical types and certain psychological disorders. Specifically, he believed that the short, round pyknic type was more prone to cyclothymic or bipolar disorders, and that the tall thin asthenic type (a too a lesser degree the muscular athletic thype) was more prone to schizophrenia. His research, although involving thousands of institutionalized patients, was suspect because he failed to control for age and the schizophrenics were considerably younger than the bipolar patients, and so more likely to be thinner.

Sheldon developed a precise measurement system that summarized body shapes with three numbers. These numbers referred to how closely you matched three “types:”

1. Ectomorphs: Slender, often tall, people, with long arms and legs and fine features.

2. Mesomorphs: Stockier people, with broad shoulders and good musculature.

3. Endomorphs: Chubby people, tending to “pear-shaped.”

Noting that these three “types” have some pretty strong stereotypical personalities
associated with them, he decided to test the idea. He came up with another three numbers, this time referring how closely you match three personality “types:”

1. Cerebrotonics: Nervous types, relatively shy, often intellectual.

2. Somatotonics: Active types, physically fit and energetic.

3. Viscerotonics: Sociable types, lovers of food and physical comforts.

He theorized that the connection between the three physical types and the three personality types was embryonic development. In the early stages of our prenatal development, we are composed of three layers or “skins:” the ectoderm or outer layer, which develops into skin and nervous system; the mesoderm or middle layer, which develops into muscle; and the endoderm or inner layer, which develops into the viscera.

Some embryos show stronger development in one layer or another. He suggested that those who show strong ectoderm development would become ectomorphs, with more skin surface and stronger neural development (including the brain -- hence cerebrotonic!). Those with strong mesoderm development would become mesomorphs, with lots of muscle (or body -- hence somatotonic!). And those with strong endomorph development would become endomorphs, with well developed viscera and a strong attraction to food (hence viscerotonic!) And his measurements backed him up.

Now at several points above, I used “types” with quotes. This is an important point: He sees these two sets of three numbers as dimensions or traits, not as types (“pigeon-holes”) at all. In other words, we are all more-or-less ecto-, meso-, AND endomorphs, as well as more-or-less cerebro-, somato-, AND viscerotonic!


Thirty-five Factors

Raymond Cattell (b. 1905) is another prolific theorist-researcher like Eysenck who has made extensive use of the factor-analysis method, although a slightly different version. In his early research, he isolated 16 personality factors, which he composed into a test called, of course, the 16PF!

Later research added seven more factors to the list. Even later research added twelve “pathological” factors found using items from the MMPI (Minnesota Multiphasic Personality Inventory).

A “second order” factor analysis on the total of 35 factors revealed eight “deeper” factors, as follows, in order of strength:

    QI. Exvia (Extraversion)

    QII. Anxiety (Neuroticism)

    QIII. Corteria ("cortical alertness," practical and realistic)

    QIV. Independence (strong loner types)

    QV. Discreetness (socially shrewd types)

    QVI. Subjectivity (distant and out-of-it)

    QVII. Intelligence (IQ!)

    QVIII. Good Upbringing (stable, docile, the salt of the earth)


Baby Twins

Arnold Buss (b. 1924) and Robert Plomin (b. 1948), both working at the University of Colorado at the time, took a different approach: If some aspect of our behavior or personality is supposed to have a genetic, inborn basis, we should find it more clearly in infants than in adults.

So Buss and Plomin decided to study infants. Plus, since identical twins have the same genetic inheritance, we should see them sharing any genetically based aspects of personality. If we compare identical twins with fraternal twins (who are simply brothers or sisters, genetically speaking), we can pick out things that are more likely genetic from things that are more likely due to the learning babies do in their first few months.

Buss and Plomin asked mothers of twin babies to fill out questionnaires about their babies’ behavior and personality. Some babies were identical and others fraternal. Using statistical techniques similar to factor analysis, they separated out which descriptions were more likely genetic from which were more likely learned. They found four dimensions of temperament:

1. Emotionality-impassiveness: How emotional and excitable were the babies? Some were given to emotional outbursts of distress, fear, and anger -- others were not. This was their strongest temperament dimension.

2. Sociability-detachment: How much did the babies enjoy, or avoid, contact and interaction with people. Some babies are “people people,” others are “loners.”

3. Activity-lethargy: How vigorous, how active, how energetic were the babies? Just like adults, some babies are always on the move, fidgety, busy -- and some are not.

4. Impulsivity-deliberateness: How quickly did the babies “change gears,” move from one interest to another? Some people quickly act upon their urges, others are more careful and deliberate.

The last one is the weakest of the four, and in the original research showed up only in boys. That doesn’t mean girls can’t be impulsive or deliberate -- only that they seemed to learn their style, while boys seem to come one way or the other straight from the womb. But their later research found the dimension in girls as well, just not quite so strongly. It is interesting that impulse problem such as hyperactivity and attention deficit are more common among boys than girls, as if to show that, while girls can be taught to sit still and pay attention, some boys cannot.


The Magic Number

In the last couple of decades, an increasing number of theorists and researchers have come to the conclusion that five is the “magic number” for temperament dimensions. The first version, called The Big Five, was introduced in 1963 by Warren Norman. It was a fresh reworking of an Air Force technical report by E. C. Tuppes and R. E. Christal, who in turn had done a re-evaluation of Cattell’s original 16 Personality Factors research.

But it wasn’t until R. R. McCrae and P. T. Costa, Jr., presented their version, called The Five Factor Theory, in 1990, that the idea realy took hold of the individual differences research community. When they introduced the NEO Personality Inventory, many people felt, and continue to feel, that we’d finally hit the motherload!

Here are the five factors, and some defining adjectives:

1. Extraversion

    adventurous
    assertive
    frank
    sociable
    talkative

    vs. Introversion

      quiet
      reserved
      shy
      unsociable
2. Agreeableness
    altruistic
    gentle
    kind
    sympathetic
    warm
3. Conscientiousness
    competent
    dutiful
    orderly
    responsible
    thorough
4. Emotional Stability (Norman)
    calm
    relaxed
    stable

    vs. Neuroticism (Costa and McCrae)

      angry
      anxious
      depressed
5. Culture (Norman) or Openness to Experience (Costa and McCrae)
    cultured
    esthetic
    imaginative
    intellectual
    open
For a Big Five "mini-test," click here!

The PAD Model

Albert Mehrabian has a three-dimensional temperament model that has been well received. It is based on his three-dimensional model of emotions. he theorizes that you can describe just about any emotion with these three dimensions: pleasure-displeasure (P), arousal-nonarousal (A), and dominance-submissiveness (D).

He reasons that, while we all vary from situation to situation and time to time on these three emotional dimensions, some of us are more likely to respond one way or another -- i.e. we have a temperamental disposition to certain emotional responses. He uses the same PAD initials for the temperaments: Trait Pleasure-Displeasure, Trait Arousability, and Trait Dominance-Submisiveness.

“P” means that, overall, you experience more pleasure than displeasure. It relates positively to extraversion, affiliation, nurturance, empathy, and achievement, and negatively to neuroticism, hostility, and depression.

“A” means that you respond strongly to unusual, complex, or changing situations. It relates to emotionality, neuroticism, sensitivity, introversion, schizophrenia, heart disease, eating disorders, and lots more.

“D” means that you feel in control over your life. It relates positively to extraversion, assertiveness, competitiveness, affiliation, social skills, and nurturance, and negatively to neuroticism, tension, anxiety, introversion, conformity, and depression.


Parallels

Although you may feel a bit overwhelmed with all the various theories, personality theorists in fact are more encouraged than discouraged: It is fascinating to us that all these different theorists, often coming from very different directions, still manage to come up with very parallel sets of temperament dimensions!

First, every theorist puts Extraversion-Introversion and Neuroticism/ Emotional Stability/ Anxiety into their lists. Few personologists have any doubts about these!

Eysenck adds Psychoticism, which some of his followers are re-evaluating as an aggressive, impulsive, sensation-seeking factor. That to some extent matches up with Buss and Plomin’s Impulsivity, and may be the opposite of Big Five’s Agreeableness and Conscientiousness.

Buss and Plomin’s theory fits best with Sheldon’s: Cerebrotonics are Emotional (and not Sociable), Somatotonics are Active (and not Emotional), and Viscerotonics are Sociable (and not Active). In other words, the factors of these two models are “rotated” slightly from each other!

Cattell’s factors, other than Exvia and Anxiety, are a little harder to place. Discreteness looks a little like Agreeableness, and Corteria a bit like the opposite of Agreeableness; Good Upbringing looks like Conscientiousness; Independence, perhaps with Intelligence, looks a little bit like Culture. Subjectivity, Corteria, and Independence together might be similar to Eysenck’s Psychoticism.

Mehrabian’s PAD factors are a little tougher to line up with the others, which makes sense considering the different theoretical roots. But we can see that Arousability is a lot like Neuroticism / Emotionality and that Dominance is a lot like Extraversion / Sociability. Pleasure seems related to Extraversion plus non-Neuroticism.

We can also look at Jung and the Myers-Briggs test: Extraversion and Introversion are obvious. Feeling (vs. Thinking) sounds a bit like Agreeableness. Judging (vs. Perceiving) sounds like Conscientiousness. And Intuiting (vs. Sensing) sounds a little like Culture. It helps to recall that Jung saw these types and functions as essentially genetic -- i.e. temperaments!


Bibliography

I can only give you places to start investigating these various theories. For Sheldon, see The Varieties of Temperament (1942) and Kretschmer's earlier Physique and Character (1925). For Cattell, see The Handbook for the 16 Personality Factors Questionnaire (1970, with Ebert and Tatsuoka). Buss and Plomin's Work is best summarized in Buss's text book, Personality: Temperament, Social Behavior, and the Self. For Norman, go to Norman’s "Toward an adequate taxonomy of personality attributes” in The Journal of Abnormal and Social Psychology (1966, pp. 574-583). For McCrae and Costa, see Personality in Adulthood (1990) as well as an entire issue of The Journal of Personality devoted to the research (#60, 1992). And for Mehrabian, go to his web site at www.ablecom.net/users/kaaj/psych/. Also, see William Revelle's summaries at http://fas.psych.nwu.edu/perproj/theory/big5.table.html and http://fas.psych.nwu.edu/perproj/theory/big3.table.html.


Copyright 1998, 2006 C. George Boeree

GORDON ALLPORT

GORDON ALLPORT

1897 - 1967

Dr. C. George Boeree


Gordon Allport was born in Montezuma, Indiana, in 1897, the youngest of four brothers. A shy and studious boy, he was teased quite a bit and lived a fairly isolated childhood. His father was a country doctor, which meant that Gordon grew up with his father’s patients and nurses and all the paraphernalia of a miniature hospital. Everyone worked hard. His early life was otherwise fairly pleasant and uneventful.

One of Allport’s stories is always mentioned in his biographies: When he was 22, he traveled to Vienna. He had arranged to meet with the great Sigmund Freud! When he arrived in Freud’s office, Freud simply sat and waited for Gordon to begin. After a little bit, Gordon could no longer stand the silence, and he blurted out an observation he had made on his way to meet Freud. He mentioned that he had seen a little boy on the bus who was very upset at having to sit where a dirty old man had sat previously. Gordon thought this was likely something he had learned from his mother, a very neat and apparently rather domineering type. Freud, instead of taking it as a simple observation, took it to be an expression of some deep, unconscious process in Gordon’s mind, and said “And was that little boy you?”

This experience made him realize that depth psychology sometimes digs too deeply, in the same way that he had earlier realized that behaviorism often doesn’t dig deeply enough!

Allport received his Ph.D. in Psychology in 1922 from Harvard, following in the foot steps of his brother Floyd, who became an important social psychologist. His career was spent developing his theory, examining such social issues as prejudice, and developing personality tests. He died in Cambridge Massachusetts in 1967.


Theory

One thing that motivates human beings is the tendency to satisfy biological survival needs, which Allport referred to as opportunistic functioning. He noted that opportunistic functioning can be characterized as reactive, past-oriented, and, of course, biological.

But Allport felt that opportunistic functioning was relatively unimportant for understanding most of human behavior. Most human behavior, he believed, is motivated by something very different -- functioning in a manner expressive of the self -- which he called propriate functioning. Most of what we do in life is a matter of being who we are! Propriate functioning can be characterized as proactive, future-oriented, and psychological.

Propriate comes from the word proprium, which is Allport’s name for that essential concept, the self. He had reviewed hundreds of definitions for that concept and came to feel that, in order to more scientific, it would be necessary to dispense with the common word self and substitute something else. For better or worse, the word proprium never caught on.

To get an intuitive feel for what propriate functioning means, think of the last time you wanted to do something or become something because you really felt that doing or becoming that something would be expressive of the things about yourself that you believe to be most important. Remember the last time you did something to express your self, the last time you told yourself, “that’s really me!” Doing things in keeping with what you really are, that’s propriate functioning.

The proprium

Putting so much emphasis on the self or proprium, Allport wanted to define it as carefully as possible. He came at that task from two directions, phenomenologically and functionally.

First, phenomenologically, i.e. the self as experienced: He suggested that the self is composed of the aspects of your experiencing that you see as most essential (as opposed to incidental or accidental), warm (or “precious,” as opposed to emotionally cool), and central (as opposed to peripheral).

His functional definition became a developmental theory all by itself. The self has seven functions, which tend to arise at certain times of one’s life:
1. Sense of body
2. Self-identity
3. Self-esteem
4. Self-extension
5. Self-image
6. Rational coping
7. Propriate striving

Sense of body develops in the first two years of life. We have one, we feel its closeness, its warmth. It has boundaries that pain and injury, touch and movement, make us aware of. Allport had a favorite demonstration of this aspect of self: Imagine spitting saliva into a cup -- and then drinking it down! What’s the problem? It’s the same stuff you swallow all day long! But, of course, it has gone out from your bodily self and become, thereby, foreign to you.

Self-identity also develops in the first two years. There comes a point were we recognize ourselves as continuing, as having a past, present, and future. We see ourselves as individual entities, separate and different from others. We even have a name! Will you be the same person when you wake up tomorrow? Of course -- we take that continuity for granted.

Self-esteem develops between two and four years old. There also comes a time when we recognize that we have value, to others and to ourselves. This is especially tied to a continuing development of our competencies. This, for Allport, is what the “anal” stage is really all about!

Self-extension develops between four and six. Certain things, people, and events around us also come to be thought of as central and warm, essential to my existence. “My” is very close to “me!” Some people define themselves in terms of their parents, spouse, or children, their clan, gang, community, college, or nation. Some find their identity in activities: I’m a psychologist, a student, a bricklayer. Some find identity in a place: my house, my hometown. When my child does something wrong, why do I feel guilty? If someone scratches my car, why do I feel like they just punches me?

Self-image also develops between four and six. This is the “looking-glass self,” the me as others see me. This is the impression I make on others, my “look,” my social esteem or status, including my sexual identity. It is the beginning of what conscience, ideal self, and persona.

Rational coping is learned predominantly in the years from six till twelve. The child begins to develop his or her abilities to deal with life’s problems rationally and effectively. This is analogous to Erikson’s “industry.”

Propriate striving doesn’t usually begin till after twelve years old. This is my self as goals, ideal, plans, vocations, callings, a sense of direction, a sense of purpose. The culmination of propriate striving, according to Allport, is the ability to say that I am the proprietor of my life -- i.e. the owner and operator!

(One can't help but notice the time periods Allport uses -- they are very close to the time periods of Freud's stages! But please understand that Allport's scheme is not a stage theory -- just a description of the usual way people develop.)

Traits or dispositions

Now, as the proprium is developing in this way, we are also developing personal traits, or personal dispositions. Allport originally used the word traits, but found that so many people assumed he meant traits as perceived by someone looking at another person or measured by personality tests, rather than as unique, individual characteristics within a person, that he changed it to dispositions.

A personal disposition is defined as “a generalized neuropsychic structure (peculiar to the individual), with the capacity to render many stimuli functionally equivalent, and to initiate and guide consistent (equivalent) forms of adaptive and stylistic behavior.”

A personal disposition produces equivalences in function and meaning between various perceptions, beliefs, feelings, and actions that are not necessarily equivalent in the natural world, or in anyone else’s mind. A person with the personal disposition “fear of communism” may equate Russians, liberals, professors, strikers, social activists, environmentalists, feminists, and so on. He may lump them all together and respond to any of them with a set of behaviors that express his fear: making speeches, writing letters, voting, arming himself, getting angry, etc.

Another way to put it is to say that dispositions are concrete, easily recognized, consistencies in our behaviors.

Allport believes that traits are essentially unique to each individual: One person’s “fear of communism” isn’t the same as another's. And you can’t really expect that knowledge of other people is going to help you understand any one particular person. For this reason, Allport strongly pushed what he called idiographic methods -- methods that focused on studying one person at a time, such as interviews, observation, analysis of letters or diaries, and so on. These are nowadays generally referred to as qualitative methods.

Allport does recognize that within any particular culture, there are common traits or dispositions, ones that are a part of that culture, that everyone in that culture recognizes and names. In our culture, we commonly differentiate between introverts and extraverts or liberals and conservatives, and we all know (roughly) what we mean. But another culture may not recognize these. What, for example, would liberal and conservative mean in the middle ages?

Allport recognizes that some traits are more closely tied to the proprium (one’s self) than others. Central traits are the building blocks of your personality. When you describe someone, you are likely to use words that refer to these central traits: smart, dumb, wild, shy, sneaky, dopey, grumpy.... He noted that most people have somewhere between five and ten of these.

There are also secondary traits, ones that aren’t quite so obvious, or so general, or so consistent. Preferences, attitudes, situational traits are all secondary. For example, “he gets angry when you try to tickle him,” “she has some very unusual sexual preferences,” and “you can’t take him to restaurants.”

But then there are cardinal traits. These are the traits that some people have which practically define their life. Someone who spends their life seeking fame, or fortune, or sex is such a person. Often we use specific historical people to name these cardinal traits: Scrooge (greed), Joan of Arc (heroic self-sacrifice), Mother Teresa (religious service), Marquis de Sade (sadism), Machiavelli (political ruthlessness), and so on. Relatively few people develop a cardinal trait. If they do, it tends to be late in life.

Psychological maturity

If you have a well-developed proprium and a rich, adaptive set of dispositions, you have attained psychological maturity, Allport’s term for mental health. He lists seven characteristics:

1. Specific, enduring extensions of self, i.e. involvement.
2. Dependable techniques for warm relating to others (e.g. trust, empathy, genuineness, tolerance...).
3. Emotional security and self-acceptance.
4. Habits of realistic perception (as opposed to defensiveness).
5. Problem-centeredness, and the development of problem-solving skills.
6. Self-objectification -- insight into one’s own behavior, the ability to laugh at oneself, etc.
7. A unifying philosophy of life, including a particular value orientation, differentiated religious sentiment, and a personalized conscience.

Functional autonomy

Allport didn’t believe in looking too much into a person’s past in order to understand his present. This belief is most strongly evident in the concept of functional autonomy: Your motives today are independent (autonomous) of their origins. It doesn’t matter, for example, why you wanted to become a doctor, or why you developed a taste for olives or for kinky sex, the fact is that this is the way you are now!

Functional autonomy comes in two flavors: The first is perseverative functional autonomy. This refers essentially to habits -- behaviors that no longer serve their original purpose, but still continue. You may have started smoking as a symbol of adolescent rebellion, for example, but now you smoke because you can’t quit! Social rituals such as saying “bless you” when someone sneezes had a reason once upon a time (during the plague, a sneeze was a far more serious symptom than it is today!), but now continues because it is seen as polite.

Propriate functional autonomy is something a bit more self-directed than habits. Values are the usual example. Perhaps you were punished for being selfish when you were a child. That doesn’t in any way detract from your well-known generosity today -- it has become your value!

Perhaps you can see how the idea of functional autonomy may have derived from Allport’s frustration with Freud (or the behaviorists). Of course, that hardly means that it’s only a defensive belief on Allport’s part!

The idea of propriate functional autonomy -- values -- lead Allport and his associates Vernon and Lindzey to develop a categorization of values (in a book called A Study of Values, 1960) and a test of values. Click here for a "demo" of the values test!

1. the theoretical -- a scientist, for example, values truth.
2. the economic -- a businessperson may value usefulness.
3. the aesthetic -- an artist naturally values beauty.
4. the social -- a nurse may have a strong love of people.
5. the political -- a politician may value power.
6. the religious -- a monk or nun probably values unity.

Most of us, of course, have several of these values at more moderate levels, plus we may value one or two of these quite negatively. There are modern tests used for helping kids find their careers that have very similar dimensions.

Conclusions

Allport is one of those theorists who was so right about so many things that his ideas have simply passed on into the spirit of the times. His theory is one of the first humanistic theories, and would influence many others, including Kelly, Maslow, and Rogers. One unfortunate aspect of his theory is his original use of the word trait, which brought down the wrath of a number of situationally oriented behaviorists who would have been much more open to his theory if they had bothered to understand it. But that has always been a weakness of psychology in general and personality in particular: Ignorance of the past and the theories and research of others.


References

Allport’s most significant books are Pattern and Growth in Personality (1965), The Person in Psychology (1968), and The Nature of Prejudice (1954). He was a good writer, and none of these books are too technical


Copyright 1998, 2006 C. George Boeree

ERICH FROMM

ERICH FROMM

1900 - 1980

Dr. C. George Boeree


Biography

Erich Fromm was born in 1900 in Frankfurt, Germany. His father was a business man and, according to Erich, rather moody. His mother was frequently depressed. In other words, like quite a few of the people we've looked at, his childhood wasn't very happy.

Like Jung, Erich came from a very religious family, in his case orthodox Jews. Fromm himself later became what he called an atheistic mystic.

In his autobiography, Beyond the Chains of Illusion, Fromm talks about two events in his early adolescence that started him along his path. The first involved a friend of the family's:

    Maybe she was 25 years of age; she was beautiful, attractive, and in addition a painter, the first painter I ever knew. I remember having heard that she had been engaged but after some time had broken the engagement; I remember that she was almost invariably in the company of her widowed father. As I remember him, he was an old, uninteresting, and rather unattractive man, or so I thought (maybe my judgment was somewhat biased by jealousy). Then one day I heard the shocking news: her father had died, and immediately afterwards, she had killed herself and left a will which stipulated that she wanted to be buried with her father. (p. 4)
As you can imagine, this news hit the 12 year old Erich hard, and he found himself asking what many of us might ask: why? Later, he began finding some answers -- partial ones, admittedly -- in Freud.

The second event was even larger: World War I. At the tender age of 14, he saw the extremes that nationalism could go to. All around him, he heard the message: We (Germans, or more precisely, Christian Germans) are great; They (the English and their allies) are cheap mercenaries. The hatred, the "war hysteria," frightened him, as well it should.

So again he wanted to understand something irrational -- the irrationality of mass behavior -- and he found some answers, this time in the writings of Karl Marx.

To finish Fromm's story, he received his PhD from Heidelberg in 1922 and began a career as a psychotherapist. He moved to the U.S. in 1934 -- a popular time for leaving Germany! -- and settled in New York City, where he met many of the other great refugee thinkers that gathered there, including Karen Horney, with whom he had an affair.

Toward the end of his career, he moved to Mexico City to teach. He had done considerable research into the relationship between economic class and personality types there. He died in 1980 in Switzerland.


Theory

As his biography suggests, Fromm's theory is a rather unique blend of Freud and Marx. Freud, of course, emphasized the unconscious, biological drives, repression, and so on. In other words, Freud postulated that our characters were determined by biology. Marx, on the other hand, saw people as determined by their society, and most especially by their economic systems.

He added to this mix of two deterministic systems something quite foreign to them: The idea of freedom. He allows people to transcend the determinisms that Freud and Marx attribute to them. In fact, Fromm makes freedom the central characteristic of human nature!

There are, Fromm points out, examples where determinism alone operates. A good example of nearly pure biological determinism, ala Freud, is animals (at least simple ones). Animals don't worry about freedom -- their instincts take care of everything. Woodchucks, for example, don't need career counseling to decide what they are going to be when they grow up: They are going to be woodchucks!

A good example of socioeconomic determinism, ala Marx, is the traditional society of the Middle Ages. Just like woodchucks, few people in the Middle Ages needed career counseling: They had fate, the Great Chain of Being, to tell them what to do. Basically, if your father was a peasant, you'd be a peasant. If your father was a king, that's what you'd become. And if you were a woman, well, there was only one role for women.

Today, we might look at life in the Middle Ages, or life as an animal, and cringe. But the fact is that the lack of freedom represented by biological or social determinism is easy. Your life has structure, meaning, there are no doubts, no cause for soul-searching, you fit in and never suffered an identity crisis.

Historically speaking, this simple, if hard, life began to get shaken up with the Renaissance. In the Renaissance, people started to see humanity as the center of the universe, instead of God. In other words, we didn't just look to the church (and other traditional establishments) for the path we were to take. Then came the Reformation, which introduced the idea of each of us being individually responsible for our own soul's salvation. And then came democratic revolutions such as the American and the French revolutions. Now all of a sudden we were supposed to govern ourselves! And then came the industrial revolution, and instead of tilling the soil or making things with our hands, we had to sell our labor in exchange for money. All of a sudden, we became employees and consumers! Then came socialist revolutions such as the Russian and the Chinese, which introduced the idea of participatory economics. You were no longer responsible only for your own well-being, but for fellow workers as well!

So, over a mere 500 years, the idea of the individual, with individual thoughts, feelings, moral conscience, freedom, and responsibility, came into being. but with individuality came isolation, alienation, and bewilderment. Freedom is a difficult thing to have, and when we can we tend to flee from it.

Fromm describes three ways in which we escape from freedom:

1. Authoritarianism. We seek to avoid freedom by fusing ourselves with others, by becoming a part of an authoritarian system like the society of the Middle Ages. There are two ways to approach this. One is to submit to the power of others, becoming passive and compliant. The other is to become an authority yourself, a person who applies structure to others. Either way, you escape your separate identity.

Fromm referred to the extreme version of authoritarianism as masochism and sadism, and points out that both feel compelled to play their separate roles, so that even the sadist, with all his apparent power over the masochist, is not free to choose his actions. But milder versions of authoritarianism are everywhere. In many classes, for example, there is an implicit contract between students and professors: Students demand structure, and the professor sticks to his notes. It seems innocuous and even natural, but this way the students avoid taking any responsibility for their learning, and the professor can avoid taking on the real issues of his field.

2. Destructiveness. Authoritarians respond to a painful existence by, in a sense, eliminating themselves: If there is no me, how can anything hurt me? But others respond to pain by striking out against the world: If I destroy the world, how can it hurt me? It is this escape from freedom that accounts for much of the indiscriminate nastiness of life -- brutality, vandalism, humiliation, vandalism, crime, terrorism....

Fromm adds that, if a person's desire to destroy is blocked by circumstances, he or she may redirect it inward. The most obvious kind of self-destructiveness is, of course, suicide. But we can also include many illnesses, drug addiction, alcoholism, even the joys of passive entertainment. He turns Freud's death instinct upside down: Self-destructiveness is frustrated destructiveness, not the other way around.

3. Automaton conformity. Authoritarians escape by hiding within an authoritarian hierarchy. But our society emphasizes equality! There is less hierarchy to hide in (though plenty remains for anyone who wants it, and some who don't). When we need to hide, we hide in our mass culture instead. When I get dressed in the morning, there are so many decisions! But I only need to look at what you are wearing, and my frustrations disappear. Or I can look at the television, which, like a horoscope, will tell me quickly and effectively what to do. If I look like, talk like, think like, feel like... everyone else in my society, then I disappear into the crowd, and I don't need to acknowledge my freedom or take responsibility. It is the horizontal counterpart to authoritarianism.

The person who uses automaton conformity is like a social chameleon: He takes on the coloring of his surroundings. Since he looks like a million other people, he no longer feels alone. He isn't alone, perhaps, but he's not himself either. The automaton conformist experiences a split between his genuine feelings and the colors he shows the world, very much along the lines of Horney's theory.

In fact, since humanity's "true nature" is freedom, any of these escapes from freedom alienates us from ourselves. Here's what Fromm had to say:

    Man is born as a freak of nature, being within nature and yet transcending it. He has to find principles of action and decision making which replace the principles of instincts. he has to have a frame of orientation which permits him to organize a consistent picture of the world as a condition for consistent actions. He has to fight not only against the dangers of dying, starving, and being hurt, but also against another anger which is specifically human: that of becoming insane. In other words, he has to protect himself not only against the danger of losing his life but also against the danger of losing his mind. (Fromm, 1968, p. 61)
I should add here that freedom is in fact a complex idea, and that Fromm is talking about "true" personal freedom, rather than just political freedom (often called liberty): Most of us, whether they are free or not, tend to like the idea of political freedom, because it means that we can do what we want. A good example is the sexual sadist (or masochist) who has a psychological problem that drives his behavior. He is not free in the personal sense, but he will welcome the politically free society that says that what consenting adults do among themselves is not the state's business! Another example involves most of us today: We may well fight for freedom (of the political sort), and yet when we have it, we tend to be conformist and often rather irresponsible. We have the vote, but we fail to use it! Fromm is very much for political freedom -- but he is especially eager that we make use of that freedom and take the responsibility that goes with it.

Families

Which of the escapes from freedom you tend to use has a great deal to do with what kind of family you grew up in. Fromm outlines two kinds of unproductive families.

1. Symbiotic families. Symbiosis is the relationship two organisms have who cannot live without each other. In a symbiotic family, some members of the family are "swallowed up" by other members, so that they do not fully develop personalities of their own. The more obvious example is the case where the parent "swallows" the child, so that the child's personality is merely a reflection of the parent's wishes. In many traditional societies, this is the case with many children, especially girls.

The other example is the case where the child "swallows" the parent. In this case, the child dominates or manipulates the parent, who exists essentially to serve the child. If this sounds odd, let me assure you it is common, especially in traditional societies, especially in the relationship between a boy and his mother. Within the context of the particular culture, it is even necessary: How else does a boy learn the art of authority he will need to survive as an adult?

In reality, nearly everyone in a traditional society learns both how to dominate and how to be submissive, since nearly everyone has someone above them and below them in the social hierarchy. Obviously, the authoritarian escape from freedom is built-in to such a society. But note that, for all that it may offend our modern standards of equality, this is the way people lived for thousands of years. It is a very stable social system, it allows for a great deal of love and friendship, and billions of people live in it still.

2. Withdrawing families. In fact, the main alternative is most notable for its cool indifference, if not cold hatefulness. Although withdrawal as a family style has always been around, it has come to dominate some societies only in the last few hundred years, that is, since the bourgeoisie -- the merchant class -- arrive on the scene in force.

The "cold" version is the older of the two, found in northern Europe and parts of Asia, and wherever merchants are a formidable class. Parents are very demanding of their children, who are expected to live up to high, well-defined standards. Punishment is not a matter of a slap upside the head in full anger and in the middle of dinner; it is instead a formal affair, a full-fledged ritual, possibly involving cutting switches and meeting in the woodshed. Punishment is cold-blooded, done "for your own good." Alternatively, a culture may use guilt and withdrawal of affection as punishment. Either way, children in these cultures become rather strongly driven to succeed in whatever their culture defines as success.

This puritanical style of family encourages the destructive escape from freedom, which is internalized until circumstances (such as war) allow its release. I might add that this kind of family more immediately encourages perfectionism -- living by the rules -- which is also a way of avoiding freedom that Fromm does not discuss. When the rules are more important than people, destructiveness is inevitable.

The second withdrawing kind of family is the modern family, found in the most advanced parts of the world, most notably the USA. Changes in attitudes about child rearing have lead many people to shudder at the use of physical punishment and guilt in raising children. The newer idea is to raise your children as your equals. A father should be a boy's best buddy; a mother should be a daughter's soul mate. But, in the process of controlling their emotions, the parents become coolly indifferent. They are, in fact, no longer really parents, just cohabitants with their children. The children, now without any real adult guidance, turn to their peers and to the media for their values. This is the modern, shallow, television family!

The escape from freedom is particularly obvious here: It is automaton conformity. Although this is still very much a minority family in the world (except, of course, on TV!), this is the one Fromm worries about the most. It seems to portent the future.

What makes up a good, healthy, productive family? Fromm suggests it is a family where parents take the responsibility to teach their children reason in an atmosphere of love. Growing up in this sort of family, children learn to acknowledge their freedom and to take responsibility for themselves, and ultimately for society as a whole.

The social unconscious

But our families mostly just reflect our society and culture. Fromm emphasizes that we soak up our society with our mother's milk. It is so close to us that we usually forget that our society is just one of an infinite number of ways of dealing with the issues of life. We often think that our way of doing things is the only way, the natural way. We have learned so well that it has all become unconscious -- the social unconscious, to be precise. So, many times we believe that we are acting according to our own free will, but we are only following orders we are so used to we no longer notice them.

Fromm believes that our social unconscious is best understood by examining our economic systems. In fact, he defines, and even names, five personality types, which he calls orientations, in economic terms! If you like, you can take a personality test made up of lists of adjectives Fromm used to describe his orientations. Click here to see it!

1. The receptive orientation. These are people who expect to get what they need. if they don't get it immediately, they wait for it. They believe that all goods and satisfactions come from outside themselves. This type is most common among peasant populations. It is also found in cultures that have particularly abundant natural resources, so that one need not work hard for one's sustenance (although nature may also suddenly withdraw its bounty!). it is also found at the very bottom of any society: Slaves, serfs, welfare families, migrant workers... all are at the mercy of others.

This orientation is associated with symbiotic families, especially where children are "swallowed" by parents, and with the masochistic (passive) form of authoritarianism. It is similar to Freud's oral passive, Adler's leaning-getting, and Horney's compliant personality. In its extreme form, it can be characterized by adjectives such as submissive and wishful. In a more moderate form, adjectives such as accepting and optimistic are more descriptive.

2. The exploitative orientation. These people expect to have to take what they need. In fact, things increase in value to the extent that they are taken from others: Wealth is preferably stolen, ideas plagiarized, love achieved by coercion. This type is prevalent among history's aristocracies, and in the upper classes of colonial empires. Think of the English in India for example: Their position was based entirely on their power to take from the indigenous population. Among their characteristic qualities is the ability to be comfortable ordering others around! We can also see it in pastoral barbarians and populations who rely on raiding (such as the Vikings).

The exploitative orientation is associated with the "swallowing" side of the symbiotic family, and with the masochistic style of authoritarianism. They are Freud's oral aggressive, Adler's ruling-dominant, and Horney's aggressive types. In extremes, they are aggressive, conceited, and seducing. Mixed with healthier qualities, they are assertive, proud, captivating.

3. The hoarding orientation. hoarding people expect to keep. They see the world as possessions and potential possessions. Even loved ones are things to possess, to keep, or to buy. Fromm, drawing on Karl Marx, relates this type to the bourgeoisie, the merchant middle class, as well as richer peasants and crafts people. He associates it particularly with the Protestant work ethic and such groups as our own Puritans.

Hoarding is associated with the cold form of withdrawing family, and with destructiveness. I might add that there is a clear connection with perfectionism as well. Freud would call it the anal retentive type, Adler (to some extent) the avoiding type, and Horney (a little more clearly) the withdrawing type. In its pure form, it means you are stubborn, stingy, and unimaginative. If you are a milder version of hoarding, you might be steadfast, economical, and practical.

4. The marketing orientation. The marketing orientation expects to sell. Success is a matter of how well I can sell myself, package myself, advertise myself. My family, my schooling, my jobs, my clothes -- all are an advertisement, and must be "right." Even love is thought of as a transaction. Only the marketing orientation thinks up the marriage contract, wherein we agree that I shall provide such and such, and you in return shall provide this and that. If one of us fails to hold up our end of the arrangement, the marriage is null and void -- no hard feelings (perhaps we can still be best of friends!) This, according to Fromm, is the orientation of the modern industrial society. This is our orientation!

This modern type comes out of the cool withdrawing family, and tend to use automaton conformity as its escape from freedom. Adler and Horney don't have an equivalent, but Freud might: This is at least half of the vague phallic personality, the type that lives life as flirtation. In extreme, the marketing person is opportunistic, childish, tactless. Less extreme, and he or she is purposeful, youthful, social. Notice today's values as expressed to us by our mass media: Fashion, fitness, eternal youth, adventure, daring, novelty, sexuality... these are the concerns of the "yuppie," and his or her less-wealthy admirers. The surface is everything! Let's go bungee-jumping!

5. The productive orientation. There is a healthy personality as well, which Fromm occasionally refers to as the person without a mask. This is the person who, without disavowing his or her biological and social nature, nevertheless does not shirk away from freedom and responsibility. This person comes out of a family that loves without overwhelming the individual, that prefers reason to rules, and freedom to conformity.

The society that gives rise to the productive type (on more than a chance basis) doesn't exist yet, according to Fromm. He does, of course, have some ideas about what it will be like. He calls it humanistic communitarian socialism. That's quite a mouthful, and made up of words that aren't exactly popular in the USA, but let me explain: Humanistic means oriented towards human beings, and not towards some higher entity -- not the all-powerful State nor someone's conception of God. Communitarian means composed of small communities (Gesellschaften, in German), as opposed to big government or corporations. Socialism means everyone is responsible for the welfare of everyone else. Thus understood, it's hard to argue with Fromm's idealism!

Fromm says that the first four orientations (which others might call neurotic) are living in the having mode. They focus on consuming, obtaining, possessing.... They are defined by what they have. Fromm says that "I have it" tends to become "it has me," and we become driven by our possessions!

The productive orientation , on the other hand, lives in the being mode. What you are is defined by your actions in this world. You live without a mask, experiencing life, relating to people, being yourself.

He says that most people, being so used to the having mode, use the word have to describe their problems: "Doctor, I have a problem: I have insomnia. Although I have a beautiful home, wonderful children, and a happy marriage, I have many worries." He is looking to the therapist to remove the bad things, and let him keep the good ones, a little like asking a surgeon to take out your gall bladder. What you should be saying is more like "I am troubled. I am happily married, yet I cannot sleep...." By saying you have a problem, you are avoiding facing the fact that you are the problem -- i.e. you avoid, once again, taking responsibility for your life.

Orientation Society Family Escape from Freedom
Receptive Peasant society Symbiotic (passive) Authoritarian (masochistic)
Exploitative Aristocratic society Symbiotic (active) Authoritarian (sadistic)
Hoarding Bourgeois society Withdrawing (puritanical) Perfectionist to destructive
Marketing Modern society Withdrawing (infantile) Automaton conformist
Productive Humanistic communitarian
socialism
Loving and reasoning Freedom and responsibility acknowledged and accepted

Evil

Fromm was always interested in trying to understand the really evil people of this world -- not just one's who were confused or mislead or stupid or sick, but the one's who, with full consciousness of the evil of their acts, performed them anyway: Hitler, Stalin, Charles Manson, Jim Jones, and so on, large and small.

All the orientations we've talked about, productive and non-productive, in the having mode or the being mode, have one thing in common: They are all efforts at life. Like Horney, Fromm believed that even the most miserable neurotic is at the least trying to cope with life. They are, to use his word, biophilous, life-loving.

But there is another type of person he calls necrophilous -- the lovers of death. They have the passionate attraction to all that is dead, decayed, putrid, sickly; it is the passion to transform that which is alive into something unalive; to destroy for the sake of destruction; the exclusive interest in all that is purely mechanical. It is the passion "to tear apart living structures."

If you think back to high school, you may remember a few misfits: They were real horror movie aficionados. They may have made models of torture devices and guillotines. They loved to play war games. They liked to blow things up with their chemistry sets. They got a kick out of torturing small animals. They treasured their guns. They were really into mechanical devices. The more sophisticated the technology, the happier they were. Beavis and Butthead are modeled after these kids.

I remember watching an interview on TV once, back during the little war in Nicaragua. There were plenty of American mercenaries among the Contras, and one in particular had caught the reporters eye. He was a munitions expert -- someone who blew up bridges, buildings, and, of course, the occasional enemy soldier. When asked how he got into this line of work, he smiled and told the reporter that he might not like the story. You see, when he was a kid, he liked to put firecrackers up the backside of little birds he had caught, light the fuses, let them go, and watch them blow up. This man was a necrophiliac.

Fromm makes a few guesses as to how such a person happens. He suggested that there may be some genetic flaw that prevents them from feeling or responding to affection. It may also be a matter of a life so full of frustration that the person spends the rest of their life in a rage. And finally, he suggests that it may be a matter of growing up with a necrophilous mother, so that the child has no one to learn love from. It is very possible that some combination of these factors is at work. And yet there is still the idea that these people know what they are doing, are conscious of their evil, and choose it. It is a subject that would bear more study!

Biophilous
Necrophilous
Having Mode Receptive
Exploitative
Hoarding
Marketing
Being Mode Productive


Human Needs

Erich Fromm, like many others, believed that we have needs that go far beyond the basic, physiological ones that some people, like Freud and many behaviorists, think explain all of our behavior. He calls these human needs, in contrast to the more basic animal needs. And he suggests that the human needs can be expressed in one simple statement: The human being needs to find an answer to his existence.

Fromm says that helping us to answer this question is perhaps the major purpose of culture. In a way, he says, all cultures are like religions, trying to explain the meaning of life. Some, of course, do so better than others.

A more negative way of expressing this need is to say that we need to avoid insanity, and he defines neurosis as an effort to satisfy the need for answers that doesn't work for us. He says that every neurosis is a sort of private religion, one we turn to when our culture no longer satisfies.

He lists five human needs:

1. Relatedness

As human beings, we are aware of our separateness from each other, and seek to overcome it. Fromm calls this our need for relatedness, and views it as love in the broadest sense. Love, he says, "is union with somebody, or something, outside oneself, under the condition of retaining the separateness and integrity of one's own self." (p 37 of The Sane Society). It allows us to transcend our separateness without denying us our uniqueness.

The need is so powerful that sometimes we seek it in unhealthy ways. For example, some seek to eliminate their isolation by submitting themselves to another person, to a group, or to their conception of a God. Others look to eliminate their isolation by dominating others. Either way, these are not satisfying: Your separateness is not overcome.

Another way some attempt to overcome this need is by denying it. The opposite of relatedness is what Fromm calls narcissism. Narcissism -- the love of self -- is natural in infants, in that they don't perceive themselves as separate from the world and others to begin with. But in adults, it is a source of pathology. Like the schizophrenic, the narcissist has only one reality: the world of his own thoughts, feelings, and needs. His world becomes what he wants it to be, and he loses contact with reality.

2. Creativity

Fromm believes that we all desire to overcome, to transcend, another fact of our being: Our sense of being passive creatures. We want to be creators. There are many ways to be creative: We give birth, we plant seeds, we make pots, we paint pictures, we write books, we love each other. Creativity is, in fact, an expression of love

Unfortunately, some don't find an avenue for creativity. Frustrated, they attempt to transcend their passivity by becoming destroyers instead. Destroying puts me "above" the things -- or people -- I destroy. It makes me feel powerful. We can hate as well as love. But in the end, it fails to bring us that sense of transcendence we need.

3. Rootedness

We also need roots. We need to feel at home in the universe, even though, as human beings, we are somewhat alienated from the natural world.

The simplest version is to maintain our ties to our mothers. But to grow up means we have to leave the warmth of our mothers' love. To stay would be what Fromm calls a kind of psychological incest. In order to manage in the difficult world of adulthood, we need to find new, boader roots. We need to discover our brotherhood (and sisterhood) with humanity.

This, too has its pathological side: For example, the schhizophrenic tries to retreat into a womb-like existence, one where, you might say, the umbilical cord has never been cut. There is also the neurotic who is afraid to leave his home, even to get the mail. And there's the fanatic who sees his tribe, his country, his church... as the only good one, the only real one. Everyone else is a dangerous outsider, to be avoided or even destroyed.

4. A sense of identity

"Man may be defined as the animal that can say 'I.'" (p 62 of The Sane Society) Fromm believes that we need to have a sense of identity, of individuality, in order to stay sane.

This need is so powerful that we are sometimes driven to find it, for example by doing anything for signs of status, or by trying desperately to conform. We sometimes will even give up our lives in order to remain a part of our group. But this is only pretend identity, an identity we take from others, instead of one we develop ourselves, and it fails to satisfy our need.

5. A frame of orientation

Finally, we need to understand the world and our place in it. Again, our society -- and especially the religious aspects of our culture -- often attempts to provide us with this understanding. Things like our myths, our philosophies, and our sciences provide us with structure.

Fromm says this is really two needs: First, we need a frame of orientation -- almost anything will do. Even a bad one is better than none! And so people are generally quite gullible. We want to believe, sometimes even desperately. If we don't have an explanation handy, we will make one up, via rationalization.

The second aspect is that we want to have a good frame of orientation, one that is useful, accurate. This is where reason comes in. It is nice that our parents and others provide us with explanations for the world and our lives, but if they don't hold up, what good are they? A frame of orientation needs to be rational.

Fromm adds one more thing: He says we don't just want a cold philosophy or material science. We want a frame of orientation that provides us with meaning. We want understanding, but we want a warm, human understanding.

Discussion

Fromm, in some ways, is a transition figure or, if you prefer, a theorist that brings other theories together. Most significantly for us, he draws together the Freudian and neo-Freudian theories we have been talking about (especially Adler's and Horney's) and the humanistic theories we will discuss later. He is, in fact, so close to being an existentialist that it almost doesn't matter! I believe interest in his ideas will rise as the fortune of existential psychology does.

Another aspect of his theory is fairly unique to him: his interest in the economic and cultural roots of personality. No one before or since has put it so directly: Your personality is to a considerable extent a reflection of such issues as social class, minority status, education, vocation, religious and philosophical background, and so forth. This has been a very under-represented view, perhaps because of its association with Marxism. But it is, I think, inevitable that we begin to consider it more and more, especially as a counterbalance to the increasing influence of biological theories.


References

Fromm is an excellent and exciting writer. You can find the basics of his theory in Escape from Freedom (1941) and Man for Himself (1947). His interesting treatise on love in the modern world is called The Art of Loving (1956). My favorite of his books is The Sane Society (1955), which perhaps should have been called "the insane society" because most of it is devoted to demonstrating how crazy our world is right now, and how that leads to our psychological difficulties. He has also written "the" book on aggression, The Anatomy of Human Destructiveness (1973), which includes his ideas on necrophilia. He has written many other great books, including ones on Christianity, Marxism, and Zen Buddhism!



Copyright 1997, 2006 C. George Boeree