Showing posts with label Self Psychology. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Self Psychology. Show all posts

Friday, November 29, 2013

PETER FONAGY - Psychoanalysis Today

Logo of worldpsych

Okay, so not quite today - this article is from 2003 - but this Psychoanalysis is so far from what Freud was teaching that they don't even seem cut from the same cloth. The one thing that binds them is the belief that unconscious factors affect mental health.

Here is some background info on Peter Fonagy from Wikipedia:
Peter Fonagy (born 1952) is a Hungarian-born British psychoanalyst and clinical psychologist. He studied clinical psychology at University College London. He is Freud Memorial Professor of Psychoanalysis and head of the department of Clinical, Educational and Health Psychology at University College London, Chief Executive of the Anna Freud Centre, a training and supervising analyst in the British Psycho-Analytical Society in child and adult analysis, a Fellow of the British Academy, and a registrant of the British Psychoanalytic Council. His clinical interests centre on issues of borderline psychopathology, violence, and early attachment relationships. His work attempts to integrate empirical research with psychoanalytic theory. He has published numerous articles and has authored or edited 16 books.[1]
The development of psychoanalysis has gone through a variety of new iterations, each one building on the past and moving farther and farther away from Freud's original vision. Here are some of the stages, with their Wikipedia links:
As you can see from this list, Fonagy was one of the relational psychoanalysts, a group that grew out of Kohut's Self Psychology. Right now, the leaders in psychoanalytic thinking are the relational and intersubjective schools, with a lot of overlap between the two in theory and in practitioners.

The small I study with here in Tucson identify, very informally, as Intersubjective Relational Self Psychologists (the ordering of the terms reflects their centrality). 

Full Citation:
Fonagy, P. (2003, Jun). Psychoanalysis today. World Psychiatry; 2(2): 73–80.

Psychoanalysis Today

PETER FONAGY

Abstract

The paper discusses the precarious position of psychoanalysis, a therapeutic approach which historically has defined itself by freedom from constraint and counted treatment length not in terms of number of sessions but in terms of years, in today's era of empirically validated treatments and brief structured interventions. The evidence that exists for the effectiveness of psychoanalysis as a treatment for psychological disorder is reviewed. The evidence base is significant and growing, but less than might meet criteria for an empirically based therapy. The author goes on to argue that the absence of evidence may be symptomatic of the epistemic difficulties that psychoanalysis faces in the context of 21st century psychiatry, and examines some of the philosophical problems faced by psychoanalysis as a model of the mind. Finally some changes necessary in order to ensure a future for psychoanalysis and psychoanalytic therapies within psychiatry are suggested.
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Psychoanalysis today is an embattled discipline. What hope is there in the era of empirically validated treatments (1), which prizes brief structured interventions, for a therapeutic approach which defines itself by freedom from constraint and preconception (2), and counts treatment length not in terms of number of sessions but in terms of years? Can psychoanalysis ever demonstrate its effectiveness, let alone cost-effectiveness? After all, is psychoanalysis not a qualitatively different form of therapy which must surely require a qualitatively different kind of metric to reflect variations in its outcome? Symptom change as a sole indicator of therapeutic benefit must indeed be considered crude in relation to the complex interpersonal processes which evolve over the many hundreds of sessions of the average 3- 5 times weekly psychoanalytic treatment. Most psychoanalysts are sceptical about outcome investigations.

Surprisingly, given this unpropitious backdrop, there is, in fact, some suggestive evidence for the effectiveness of psychoanalysis as a treatment for psychological disorder. The evidence in relation to psychoanalytic outcomes was recently overviewed by Gabbard et al (3), and suggestions for enriching this literature with ongoing naturalistic follow- along investigations were offered. But the absence of evidence is only part of the problem. Indeed, it may be symptomatic of the scientific difficulties that psychoanalysis faces in the 21st century. I will review the evidence base of psychoanalytic treatments and go on to examine in more detail the problems faced by psychoanalysis as a body of ideas rather than as a mode of treatment.

DATA GATHERING AND PSYCHOANALYSIS

Psychoanalysts emulating the founder of the discipline take special pride in discovery. This has led to an abundance of psychoanalytic ideas. Yet this very overabundance of clinically rooted concepts is beginning to threaten the clinical enterprise (4). The plethora of clinical strategies and techniques that are not all mutually compatible creates almost insurmountable problems in the transmission of psychoanalytic knowledge and skills (5). Sadly, this also leads to resistance to the systematization of psychoanalytic knowledge, since those whose frame of reference depends on ambiguity and polymorphy can be threatened by the systematization of clinical reasoning. The source of the problem of theoretical diversity lies in psychoanalytic methods of data-gathering. As is well known, data is not the plural of anecdote. Psychoanalytic practice has profound limitations as a form of research. Psychoanalytic theory precludes the possibility that psychoanalysts can be adequate observers of their clinical work. The discovery of the pervasiveness of countertransference has totally discredited Freud's clinician- researcher model. In the absence of a genuine research tradition, academic disciplines will appropriately distance themselves from psychoanalytic study, in much the same way that they hold journalism at arm's length.

Progress in disciplines concerned with the mind has been remarkable. Excluding information from these disciplines is a high risk strategy at a time when interdisciplinary collaboration is perceived as the driving force of knowledge acquisition. Modern science is almost exclusively interdisciplinary. Many major universities have been restructured to facilitate interdisciplinary work. The impetus is for the abolition of discipline based departments and the re-configuring of medical faculties in terms of interdisciplinary research groupings (scientists working on similar problems regardless of their discipline of origin). It is likely that many basic questions that psychoanalysts have not been able adequately to answer, such as how psychological therapy cures, will only be illuminated by interdisciplinary (neuroscientific) research.

The last 30 years' advances in all the neurosciences have negated the reasons for the earlier psychoanalytic disregard of this field (6). Neuroscientists are no longer just concerned with cognitive disabilities or so-called organic disorders (7,8). Recent reviews of neuroscientific work confirm that many of Freud's original observations, not least the pervasive influence of non-conscious processes and the organizing function of emotions for thinking, have found confirmation in laboratory studies (9,10). If Freud were alive today, he would be keenly interested in new knowledge about brain functioning, such as how neural nets develop in relation to the quality of early relationships, the location of specific capacities with functional scans, the discoveries of molecular genetics and behavioral genomics (11) and he would surely not have abandoned his cherished Project for a Scientific Psychology (12), the abortive work in which he attempted to develop a neural model of behavior. Genetics has progressed particularly rapidly, and mechanisms that underpin and sustain a complex gene-environment interaction belie early assumptions about constitutional disabilities (13). In fact, for the past 15-20 years the field of neuroscience has been wide open for input from those with an adequate understanding of environmental determinants of development and adaptation.

It may be that the difficulty in pinpointing the curative factors in psychoanalytic treatment is directly related to the limitations of the uniquely clinical basis for psychoanalytic inquiry. The impact of psychoanalysis cannot be fully appreciated from clinical material alone. The repetition of patterns of emotional arousal in association with the interpretive process elaborates and strengthens structures of meaning and emotional response. This may have far-reaching effects, I would argue, even on the functioning of the brain and the expression of genetic potential. A range of studies have already suggested that the impact of psychotherapy can be seen in alterations in brain activity, using brain imaging techniques (14-16). These studies as a group provide a rationale for the hope that intensive psychoanalytic treatment might meaningfully affect biological as well as psychological vulnerability. This field is in its infancy but is progressing so fast that it seems highly likely that many future psychoanalytic discoveries about the mind will be made in conjunction and collaboration with biological science.

HOW PSYCHOANALYSIS WILL (COULD) BENEFIT FROM AN INTERDISCIPLINARY DIALOGUE

Whilst clinical psychoanalysis needs little help in getting to know an individual's subjectivity in the most detailed way possible, when we wish to generalize to a comprehensive model of the human mind, the discipline can no longer exist on its own. A general psychoanalytic model of mind, if it is to be credible, should be aligned with the wider knowledge of mind gained from a range of disciplines. This is already happening, albeit informally. Psychoanalysts cannot help incorporating advances about discoveries relevant to mental function because these are invariably contained in all our intuitive, common sense, folk psychologies or theories of the mind (17,18). Folk psychology develops alongside scientific discovery. The impact of psychoanalysis on psychiatric disorder over the course of the 20th century offers the best evidence for this. Our culture's acceptances of Freudian discoveries have made it more difficult for individuals to claim dramatic dysfunctions such as blindness, anesthesia, and paralysis. Medicine has advanced to a point where individuals must accept that the absence of a pathophysiological account for a bodily dysfunction implies emotional determinants - thus the disguise function of the physical symptom is lost and the point prevalence of conversion hysteria plummets. Just as common-sense knowledge of medicine and psychology impacts on our patients, so it must unconsciously influence the nature of psychoanalysts' theoretical musings. Thus, 'scientific advances' infiltrate psychoanalytic theory by the backdoor of the analyst's preconscious.

Mitchell (19), by contrast, claimed that 'no experiment or series of experiments will ever be able to serve as a final and conclusive arbiter of something as complex and elastic as the psychoanalytic theory'. Indeed, Mitchell writes that "ultimately it is the community of psychoanalytic practitioners who provide the crucial testing-ground in the crucible of daily clinical work". As we have seen, the community has been singularly unsuccessful in definitively eliminating theories, in part because of the loose definitions adopted to define underlying concepts. This is inevitable if the mechanisms or processes that underpin the surface function described are not well understood. The meaning of the construct has to be sensed or intuited. In psychoanalysis, communication, whether in writing or clinical discourse, occurs in terms of its impact upon the reader. As Phillips (20) puts it, paraphrasing Emerson, in psychoanalytic writing there is an attempt to "return the reader to his own thoughts whatever their majesty, to evoke by provocation. According to this way of doing it, thoroughness is not inciting. No amount of 'evidence' or research will convince the unamused that a joke is funny". In psychoanalysis we accept that something has been understood when the discourse about it is inciting. Elusiveness and ambiguity are not only permissible, they may be critical to accurately depict the complexity of human experience. It is here, in the specification of the mental mechanisms whose effects psychoanalytic writings describe and whose nature they allude to, that systematic research using psychoanalytic methods as well as methods from other disciplines will turn out to be so useful. Gill (21), in his discussion of the possible validation of psychoanalytic concepts, adopted a similar approach and suggested that Mitchell underestimated the potential contribution of systematic, not necessarily experimental, research on the psychoanalytic situation.

The above does not constitute an attempt to suggest that psychoanalytic concepts can be 'tested' or 'validated' by the methods of another science. Rather, systematic observations could be used to investigate the psychological processes underpinning clinical phenomena, which psychoanalysts currently use the metaphoric language of metapsychology to approximate. Inter-disciplinary research cannot test psychoanalytic theory, it cannot demonstrate that particular psychoanalytic ideas are true or false. What it can do is to elaborate the mental mechanisms that are at work in generating the phenomena that psychoanalytic writings describe. It is here, in the specification of the mental mechanisms whose effects psychoanalytic writings describe and whose nature they allude to, that systematic research using psychoanalytic methods as well as methods from other disciplines will be useful. This in turn will help to systematize the knowledge base of psychoanalysis so that integration with the new sciences of the mind becomes increasingly easier. Not only will psychoanalysts be able more readily to show that their treatment works, but they will have new possibilities of communicating with other scientists about their discoveries. It is to this set of opportunities that I would now like to turn. The integration of psychoanalytic ideas with modern science is unlikely to interest investigators from other disciplines unless psychoanalysis can actually contribute to directing or to informing data collection in these disciplines. For psychoanalysis to be taken seriously as a scientific study of the mind, it has to engage in systematic laboratory studies, epidemiological surveys or qualitative exploration in the social sciences.

Of course, methods for such systematic research are still in their infancy. The validation of theory poses a formidable challenge. Even apparently easily operationalisable constructs such as defense mechanisms have rarely been formulated with the kind of exactness required by research studies. Extra-clinical investigations, however, may help to constrain theorizing; for example our growing knowledge of infants' actual capacities may enable us to limit speculation concerning the impact of infancy on adult function. The projective processes of infancy are unlikely to work in the adultomorphic way described by Bion (22-24) and Klein (25-27), but this does not mean that these descriptions do not contain important truths about adult mental function, simply that 'infancy' is used metaphorically in these theorizations about mental process. For example, evidence from infant research provides strong evidence for Bion's containment concept. It uses the more readily operationalizable notion of 'marked mirroring' to denote the mother's capacity to reflect the infant's affect, while also communicating that the affect she is expressing is not hers but the infant's (28-30). Mothers who can 'mark' their emotional expression (add a special set of attributes, such as playfulness, to their expression of the child's affect that makes it clearly different from their own expression of that affect) appear to be able to soothe their baby considerably more rapidly. This may not be all that Bion meant by containment, but it seems to be linked to his hypotheses concerning the subsequent problems faced by individuals whose caregivers were unable to provide this mirroring encounter with emotion regulation. Restricting theory building to the clinical domain is foolhardy in the extreme.

To summarize, psychoanalysis could benefit from integrating its working theories with research findings from other fields by elaborating the psychoanalytic psychological models of the mechanisms involved in key mental processes. This in turn would help to systematize the psychoanalytic knowledge base, so that integration with the new sciences of the mind becomes increasingly easier. Not only will we be able more readily to show that our treatment works, but we will have new possibilities of communicating with other scientists about our discoveries. The integration of psychoanalytic ideas with modern science is unlikely to interest investigators from other disciplines unless psychoanalysis can actually contribute to directing or to informing data collection in these disciplines. Merely reviewing ideas in developmental science or neuroscience for their proximity to psychoanalytic hypotheses has scant relevance to them. For psychoanalysis to take its place at the high table of the scientific study of the mind, it has to show its mettle in the battlefield of systematic laboratory studies, epidemiological surveys or qualitative exploration in the social sciences.

THE EVIDENCE BASE OF PSYCHOANALYTIC TREATMENT

The evidence base for psychoanalytic therapy remains thin. There is little doubt that the absence of solid and persuasive evidence for the efficacy of psychoanalysis is the consequence of the self-imposed isolation of psychoanalysis from the empirical sciences. Few would dispute the assertion that psychoanalytic theory is in a perilous state. The psychoanalytic clinical situation might have yielded all that it can offer to advance our understanding of mind. Yet 'importing' extra-clinical data is often fiercely resisted and those psychoanalysts who have attempted to do so have commonly been subjected to subtle and not so subtle derision.

Psychoanalysts have been encouraged by the body of research that supports brief dynamic psychotherapy. A meta-analysis of 26 such studies has yielded effect sizes comparable to other approaches (31). It may even be slightly superior to some other therapies if long term follow-up is included in the design. One of the best designed randomized controlled trials (RCTs), the Sheffield Psychotherapy Project (32), found evidence for the effectiveness of a 16 session psychodynamic treatment based on Hobson's model (33) in the treatment of major depression. There is evidence for the effectiveness of psychodynamic therapy as an adjunct to drug dependence programs (34). There is ongoing work on a brief psychodynamic treatment for panic disorder (35). There is evidence for the use of brief psychodynamic approaches in work with older people (36).

There are psychotherapy process studies which offer qualified support for the psychoanalytic case. For example, psychoanalytic interpretations given to clients which are judged to be accurate are reported to be associated with relatively good outcome (37,38). There is even tentative evidence from the reanalysis of therapy tapes from the National Institute of Mental Health (NIMH) Treatment of Depression Collaborative Research Program that the more the process of a brief therapy (e.g. cognitive-behavioural therapy, CBT) resembles that of a psychodynamic approach, the more likely it is to be effective (39).

Evidence is available to support therapeutic interventions which are clear derivatives of psychoanalysis. However, most analysts would consider that the aims and methods of short-term once a week psychotherapy are not comparable to 'full analysis'. What do we know about the value of intensive and long-term psychodynamic treatment? Here the evidence base becomes somewhat patchy.

The Boston Psychotherapy Study (40) compared longterm psychoanalytic therapy (two or more times a week) with supportive therapy for clients with schizophrenia in a randomized controlled design. There were some treatment specific outcomes, but on the whole clients who received psychoanalytic therapy fared no better than those who received supportive treatment. In a more recent randomized controlled study (41), individuals with a diagnosis of borderline personality disorder were assigned to a psychoanalytically oriented day-hospital treatment or treatment as usual. The psychoanalytic arm of the treatment included therapy groups three times a week as well as individual therapy once or twice a week over an 18 month period. There were considerable gains in this group relative to the controls and these differences were not only maintained in the 18 months following discharge, but increased, even though the day hospital group received less treatment than the control group (42). The cost-effectiveness of these treatments is surprisingly impressive, with the cost of psychoanalytic partial hospital treatment comparable to treatment as usual for these patients, and the costs of the treatment mostly recovered in terms of savings in service use within 18 months of the end of treatment (43-46). Trials with similar patient groups using comparisons of outpatient psychoanalytic therapy treatments with extended baselines have yielded relatively good outcomes (47) as did comparisons with treatment as usual (48). Several prospective follow-along studies using a pre-post design have suggested substantial improvements in patients given psychoanalytic therapies for personality disorders (49-51). Uncontrolled studies, however, particularly those with relatively small sample sizes and clinical populations whose condition is known to fluctuate wildly, cannot yield data of consequence concerning what type of treatment is likely to be effective for whom.

A further controlled trial of intensive psychoanalytic treatment of children with chronically poorly controlled diabetes reported significant gains in diabetic control in the treated group which was maintained at one year follow-up (52). Experimental single case studies carried out with the same population supported the causal relationship between interpretive work and improvement in diabetic control and physical growth (53). The work of Heinicke also suggests that four or five times weekly sessions may generate more marked improvements in children with specific learning difficulties than a less intensive psychoanalytic intervention (54).

One of the most interesting studies to emerge recently was the Stockholm Outcome of Psychotherapy and Psychoanalysis Project (55). The study followed 756 persons who received national insurance funded treatment for up to three years in psychoanalysis or in psychoanalytic psychotherapy. The groups were matched on many clinical variables. Four or five times weekly analysis had similar outcomes at termination when compared with one to two sessions per week psychotherapy. However, in measurements of symptomatic outcome using the Short Check List-90 (SCL-90), improvement on three year follow-up was substantially greater for individuals who received psychoanalysis than those in psychoanalytic psychotherapy. In fact, during the follow-up period, psychotherapy patients did not change, but those who had had psychoanalysis continued to improve, almost to a point where their scores were indistinguishable from those obtained from a non-clinical Swedish sample.

A large scale follow-up study of a representatively selected group of psychoanalytically and psychotherapeutically treated individuals was recently reported from the German Psychoanalytic Association's collaborative investigation (56). A selection of patients whose treatments had taken place in a designated time period were interviewed by independent assessors and outcomes assessed by both standardized and interviewer coded instruments. While the group had been quite impaired at the time of referral according to retrospective assessments, on follow-up over 80% showed good outcomes. Follow-up data was favorable in relation to both anxiety and depression and savings were also demonstrated in relation to the use of hospital and outpatient medical treatment of physical symptoms replicating earlier German investigations (57). This carefully conducted study also provided important qualitative data in relation to the experience of psychoanalytic treatment and the relatively common disjunction of psychological changes at the level of self-understanding, and interpersonal-relational and work-related domains.

Another large pre-post study of psychoanalytic treatments has examined the clinical records of 763 children who were evaluated and treated at the Anna Freud Centre, under the close supervision of Freud's daughter (58-61). Children with certain disorders (e.g. depression, autism, conduct disorder) appeared to benefit only marginally from psychoanalysis or psychoanalytic psychotherapy. Interestingly, children with severe emotional disorders (three or more Axis I diagnoses) did surprisingly well in psychoanalysis, although they did poorly in once or twice a week psychoanalytic psychotherapy. Younger children derived greatest benefit from intensive treatment. Adolescents appeared not to benefit from the increased frequency of sessions. The importance of the study is perhaps less in demonstrating that psychoanalysis is effective, although some of the effects on very severely disturbed children were quite remarkable, but more in identifying groups for whom the additional effort involved in intensive treatment appeared not to be warranted.

The Research Committee of the International Psychoanalytic Association has recently prepared a comprehensive review of North American and European outcome studies of psychoanalytic treatment (62). The Committee concluded that existing studies failed to unequivocally demonstrate that psychoanalysis is efficacious relative to either an alternative treatment or an active placebo, and identified a range of methodological and design problems in the fifty or so studies described in the report. Nevertheless, the report is encouraging to psychoanalysts. A number of studies testing psychoanalysis with 'state of the art' methodology are ongoing and are likely to produce more compelling evidence over the next years. Despite the limitations of the completed studies, evidence across a significant number of pre-post investigations suggested that psychoanalysis appears to be consistently helpful to patients with milder (neurotic) disorders and somewhat less consistently so for other, more severe groups. Across a range of uncontrolled or poorly controlled cohort studies, mostly carried out in Europe, longer intensive treatments tended to have better outcomes than shorter, non-intensive treatments. The impact of psychoanalysis was apparent beyond symptomatology, in measures of work functioning and reductions in health care costs.

THE LIMITATIONS OF THE EVIDENCE BASED APPROACH

There are limitations concerning the nature of the evidence base for all psychotherapies. These limitations are well-known and their implications go well beyond the evaluation of the current status of psychoanalysis. The outcomes literature concerns RCTs administered over relatively brief periods (three to six months) with short follow-ups and a failure to control for inter-current treatments over these periods. Most evidence-based treatment reviews have been uniquely based on RCTs. RCTs in psychosocial treatments are often regarded as inadequate because of their low external validity or generalizability (63). In brief, they are not relevant to clinical practice - a hotly debated issue in the field of psychotherapy (64) and psychiatric research (65). There are a number of well publicized reasons: a) the unrepresentativeness of healthcare professionals participating; b) the unrepresentativeness of participants screened for inclusion to maximize homogeneity; c) the possible use of atypical treatments designed for a single disorder; d) limiting the measurement of outcome to the symptom that is the focus of the study and is easily measurable (66).

Belief in the supremacy of RCTs opens the door to treatments which, even if effective, one may not wish to entertain. A recent report in the British Medical Journal on the effects of remote, retro-active intercessory prayer on the outcome of patients with bloodstream infection is salutary. Leonard Leibovici (67) from the Rabin Medical Centre in Israel randomized 3,393 adult patients whose bloodstream infection was detected in the hospital between 1990 and 1996. A list of the first names of the patients in the intervention group was given to a person who said a short prayer for the wellbeing and recovery of the group as a whole. It was argued that as God is unlikely to be limited by linear time, an intervention carried out 4-10 years after the patients' infection and hospitalization was as likely to be effective as one carried out during the infection. Staggeringly, there were significant results on two of the three outcome measures. Length of hospital stay and duration of fever were both shorter in the intervention group. Mortality was also lower in the intervention group but the difference was not statistically significant. As two other independent studies also support intercessory prayer (68,69) by the American Psychological Association's criteria for empirically based treatments, this intervention should be accepted except for the heterogeneity of the medical conditions for which the treatment was used. This finding highlights the risk associated with an atheoretical stance to evidence based practice that reifies and idealises a research design. RCTs unquestionably have the potential to yield clinically relevant data in the absence of an adequate understanding of the underlying process. When James Lind in 1753 determined that lemons and limes cured scurvy, he knew nothing about ascorbic acid, nor did he understand the concept of a nutrient. Yet Leibovici's study demonstrates the absurdity which can be created by bringing the world of rigorous measurement into a domain that is totally unsuited to it.

Most importantly from the standpoint of psychoanalysis, the current categorization in evidence-based psychotherapies conflates two radically different groups of treatments: those that have been adequately tested and found ineffective for a client group, and those that have not been tested at all. It is important to make this distinction, since the reason that a treatment has not been subjected to empirical scrutiny may have little to do with its likely effectiveness. It may have far more to do with the intellectual culture within which researchers operate, the availability of treatment manuals, and peer perceptions of the value of the treatment (which can be critical for both funding and publication). The British psychodynamically oriented psychiatrist Jeremy Holmes (70) has eloquently argued in the British Medical Journal that the absence of evidence for psychoanalytic treatment should not be confused with evidence of ineffectiveness. In particular, his concern was that cognitive therapy would be adopted by default because of its research and marketing strategy rather than its intrinsic superiority. He argued that: a) the foundations of cognitive therapy were less secure than often believed; b) the impact of CBT on long-term course of psychiatric illness was not well demonstrated; c) in one 'real life trial' at least the CBT arm had to be discontinued because of poor compliance from a problematic group of patients who nevertheless accepted and benefited from couples therapy (71); d) the effect size of CBT is exaggerated by comparisons with waiting list controls; e) the emergence of a post-CBT approach (e.g. 72,73) that leans increasingly on psychodynamic ideas.

Whilst the present author is entirely in sympathy with Holmes' perspective, even if his work with Roth (74) was one of the targets of his criticism, it is only fair to expose the shortcomings of his communication. Tarrier (75), in a commentary on Holmes' piece, writes with passion: "Holmes relies on the specious old adage that absence of evidence is not evidence of absence [of effectiveness]. [...] I would have more enthusiasm for this argument if traditional psychotherapy were new. It has been around for 100 years or so. The argument, therefore, becomes a little less compelling when psychotherapy's late arrival at the table of science has been triggered by a threat to pull the plug on public funding because of the absence of evidence". Sensky and Scott (76) were similarly outraged both by Holmes' selective review of evidence and his allegations that some cognitive therapists are starting to question aspects of their discipline. The message from the CBT camp is this: if psychoanalytic clinicians are going to address the issue of evidence based practice, they will have to do more than gripe and join in the general endeavour to acquire data.

Of course, psychodynamic clinicians are at a disadvantage and not simply because they are late starters (after all, many new treatments find a place at the table of evidence based practice). There are profound incompatibilities between psychoanalysis and modern natural science. Whittle (77) has drawn attention to the fundamental incompatibility of an approach that aims to fill in gaps in self-narrative with cognitive psychology's commitment to minimal elaboration of observations, a kind of Wittgensteinian cognitive asceticism. In the former context, success is measured as eloquence (or meaningfulness) which is not reducible to either symptom or suffering. Moreover, psychoanalytic explanations invoke personal history, but behaviour genetics has brought environmental accounts into disrepute. While CBT also has environmentalist social learning theory at its foundations, it has been more effective in moving away from a naïve environmentalist position. To make matters worse, within psychoanalysis there has been a tradition of regarding the uninitiated with contempt, scaring off most open-minded researchers.

Psychoanalysts are not yet fully committed to systematically collecting data with the potential to challenge and contradict as well as to confirm cherished ideas. The danger that must be avoided at all costs is that research is embraced selectively only when it confirms previously held views. This may be a worse outcome than the wholesale rejection of the entire enterprise of seeking evidence, since it immunizes against being affected by findings at the same time as creating an illusion of participation in the virtuous cycle of exploring, testing, modifying and re-exploring ideas.

But the absence of psychoanalytic research raises a related problem that particularly concerns me. A recent study from Luborsky's research team (78) demonstrates that the allegiance of the researcher predicts almost 70% of the variance in outcome across studies, with a remarkable multiple r of .85 if three different ways of measuring allegiance are simultaneously introduced. This means that 92% of the time we can predict which of two treatments compared will be most successful based on investigator allegiance alone. This becomes a pernicious self-fulfilling prophecy, as investigators who favour less focused more long-term treatment approaches are gradually excluded from the possibility of receiving funding and, if their treatments are subjected to systematic inquiry at all, these studies are performed by those with least interest in such treatments.

CONCLUSIONS

Our aim should be to assist the movement of psychoanalysis toward science. In order to ensure a future for psychoanalysis and psychoanalytic therapies within psychiatry, psychoanalytic practitioners must change their attitude in the direction of a more systematic outlook. This attitude shift would be characterized by several components: a) The evidence base of psychoanalysis should be strengthened by adopting additional data-gathering methods that are now widely available in biological and social science. New evidence may assist psychoanalysts in resolving theoretical differences, a feat which the current database of predominantly anecdotal clinical accounts have not been capable of achieving. b) The logic of psychoanalytic discourse would need to change from its overdependence on rhetoric and global constructs to using specific constructs that allow for cumulative data-gathering. c) Flaws in psychoanalytic scientific reasoning, such as failures to consider alternative accounts for observations (beyond that favored by the author), should be overcome and in particular, the issue of genetic and social influence should be approached with increased sophistication. d) The isolation of psychoanalysis should be replaced by active collaboration with other mental health disciplines. Instead of fearing that fields adjacent to psychoanalysis might destroy the unique insights offered by clinical work, we need to embrace the rapidly evolving 'knowledge chain' focused at different levels of the study of brain-behavior relationship, which, as Kandel (7,79) points out, may be the only route to the preservation of the hard won insights of psychoanalysis.

References are available at the NCBI/NIH website.


Sunday, August 18, 2013

Robert D. Stolorow, Ph.D. - Emotional Dwelling Is More than Empathic Understanding

Robert Stolorow is one of the co-founders of the intersubjective systems theory model of relational psychoanalysis, along with Donna Orange, George Atwood, and Bernard Brandchaft. Among the foundational books written by Stolorow and others in this group are Working Intersubjectively: Contextualism in Psychoanalytic Practice (2001, with Orange and Atwood), Contexts of Being: The Intersubjective Foundations of Psychological Life (2002, with Atwood), and Psychoanalytic Treatment: An Intersubjective Approach (2000, with Atwood and Brandchaft).

Stolorow's blog at Psychology Today, from which this post is shared, is Feeling, Relating, Existing: On Emotion and the Human Dimension. This is the bio given at PT:
Robert D. Stolorow, Ph.D., Ph.D. is a Founding Faculty Member at the Institute of Contemporary Psychoanalysis, Los Angeles, and at the Institute for the Psychoanalytic Study of Subjectivity, New York City. He is the author of World, Affectivity, Trauma: Heidegger and Post-Cartesian Psychoanalysis (Routledge, 2011) and Trauma and Human Existence: Autobiographical, Psychoanalytic, and Philosophical Reflections (Routledge, 2007) and coauthor of eight other books. He received the Distinguished Scientific Award from the Division of Psychoanalysis of the American Psychological Association in 1995, the Haskell Norman Prize for Excellence in Psychoanalysis from the San Francisco Center for Psychoanalysis in 2011, and the Hans W. Loewald Memorial Award from the International Forum for Psychoanalytic Education in 2012.
In this post, Stolorow clarifies the differences between empathy, as first proposed by Heinz Kohut in his Self Psychology model, and the "phenomenological contextualism" proposed in the intersubjective systems model.

Undergoing the Situation

Emotional dwelling is more than empathic understanding

Published on August 10, 2013 by Robert D. Stolorow, Ph.D. in Feeling, Relating, Existing
The person with understanding does not know and judge as one who stands apart and unaffected; but rather, as one united by a specific bond with the other, he thinks with the other and undergoes the situation with him.”—Hans-Georg Gadamer
Traditional notions of therapeutic empathy have been pervaded by the Cartesian doctrine of the isolated mind. This doctrine bifurcates the subjective world of the person into outer and inner regions, reifies and absolutizes the resulting separation between the two, and pictures the mind as an objective entity that takes its place among other objects, a “thinking thing” that has an inside with contents and looks out on an external world from which it is essentially estranged. Within this metaphysical vision, human beings can encounter each other only as thinking subjects, and something like empathic immersion—what psychoanalytic innovator Heinz Kohut famously called vicarious introspection—is required to bridge the ontological gap separating their isolated minds from one another. In a post-Cartesian philosophical world, no such bridging is required, as we are all always already connected with one another in virtue of our common humanity (including our common finitude and existential vulnerability) and our co-disclosive relation to a common world.

Kohut’s and others’ contention that a therapist’s empathic immersions can be neutral and objective is especially saturated with Cartesian assumptions. One isolated mind, the therapist, enters the subjective world of another isolated mind, the patient. With his or her own psychological world virtually left outside, the therapist gazes directly upon the patient’s inner experience with pure and preconceptionless eyes. From my vantage point, this doctrine of immaculate perception (Nietzsche) entails a denial of the inherently intersubjective nature of analytic understanding, to which the therapist’s subjectivity makes an ongoing, unavertable, and indispensable contribution.

The framework of phenomenological contextualism developed by my collaborators and me embraces the hermeneutical axiom that all human thought involves interpretation and that therefore our understanding of anything is always from a perspective shaped and limited by the historicity of our own organizing principles—by the fabric of preconceptions that the philosopher Gadamer called prejudice. The claim that all analytic understanding is interpretive means that there are no decontextualized absolutes and universals, no neutral or objective analysts, no immaculate perceptions, no God’s-eye views of anything or anyone—and thus no empathic immersions in another’s experiences. This contextualist sensibility keeps our horizons open to multiple, relationally expanded possibilities of meaning. Analytic understanding is thus seen as forming and evolving within a dialogical context.

From my vantage point, therapeutic inquiry is a dialogical process in which each participant, in varying degrees and at different times, engages in reflection upon three interrelated domains—the meanings organizing one’s own experience, the meanings organizing the other’s experience, and the dynamic intersubjective system constituted by these interacting worlds of meaning. Furthermore, in this dialogical process each participant (far from entering the other’s subjective world and leaving his or her own outside) continually draws on his or her own experiential world in search of analogues for the possible meanings governing the other’s experiences. Empathic (-introspective) understanding is thus grasped as an emergent property of a dialogical system, rather than as a privileged possession of an isolated mind.

But now I want to push the relational envelope even further and radicalize what I have said so far. There is something disengaged in the traditional conceptions of therapeutic empathy. Kohut was aware of this, and in his last lecture before he died, he characterized empathy as a value-neutral investigative activity that could even be used for malevolent purposes. He suggested that the Nazis’ practice of putting sirens on the bombs they dropped on London demonstrated an exquisite empathic understanding of the terror that would be evoked in those on the ground who heard them.

Recently, I have been moving toward a more active, relationally engaged form of therapeutic comportment that I call emotional dwelling. In dwelling, one does not merely seek to understand the other’s emotional pain from the other’s perspective. One does that, but much more. In dwelling, one leans into the other’s emotional pain and participates in it, perhaps with aid of one’s own analogous experiences of pain. I have found that this active, engaged, participatory comportment is especially important in the therapeutic approach to emotional trauma. The language that one uses to address another’s experience of emotional trauma meets the trauma head-on, articulating the unbearable and the unendurable, saying the unsayable, unmitigated by any efforts to soothe, comfort, encourage, or reassure—such efforts invariably being experienced by the other as a shunning or turning away from his or her traumatized state. Let me give a couple of examples of emotional dwelling and the sort of language it employs from my own personal life.

In the immediate aftermath of my late wife Dede’s death in February 1991, my soul brother and collaborator of 4 decades, George Atwood, was the only person among my friends and family members who was capable of dwelling with me in the magnitude of my emotional devastation. He said, in his inimitable way, “You are a destroyed human being. You are on a train to nowhere.” George lost his mother when he was 8 years old, and I think his dwelling in and integrating his own experience of traumatic loss enabled him to be an understanding home for mine. He knew that offering me encouraging platitudes would be a form of emotional distancing that would just create a wall between us.

My father suffered a terrible trauma when he was 10 years old. He was sitting in class, the kid sitting in front of him was horsing around, the teacher threw a book at the kid, the kid ducked, and the book took my dad’s eye out on the spot. For the rest of his life, he lived in terror of blindness—a terror that I remember pervaded our household when I was growing up. Sixty years after that terrible trauma, he was to have cataract surgery on his remaining eye, and his optic nerve was vulnerable to being knocked out in virtue of the glaucoma medication he had been using for decades. When I went to see him just prior to the surgery, I found him in a massively (re)traumatized state—terrified, fragmented, disorganized, and deeply ashamed of the state he was in. Family members tried to offer him reassurance: “I’m sure it will be fine.” Really? Such platitudes only demonstrated to him that no one wanted to be close to him in his traumatized state. Having gone through my own experience of devastating trauma, I knew what he needed instead. I said, “Dad, you have been terrified of blindness for nearly your entire life, and there’s a good chance that this surgery will blind you! You are going to be a fucking maniac until you find out whether the surgery blinds you! You’re going to be psychotic; you’re going to be climbing the walls!” In response to my dwelling with his terror, my dad came together right before my eyes and, as was our custom, we had a couple of martinis together. The surgery was successful and did not blind him.

If we are to be an understanding relational home for a traumatized person, we must tolerate, even draw upon, our own existential vulnerabilities so that we can dwell unflinchingly with his or her unbearable and recurring emotional pain. When we dwell with others’ unendurable pain, their shattered emotional worlds are enabled to shine with a kind of sacredness that calls forth an understanding and caring engagement within which traumatized states can be gradually transformed into bearable painful feelings. Emotional pain and existential vulnerability that find a hospitable relational home can be seamlessly and constitutively integrated into whom one experiences oneself as being.

Copyright Robert Stolorow

Friday, March 30, 2012

In Defense of the "Talking Cure"


Over at the New York Times, Benjamin Y. Fong posted a defense of old school talk therapy, an art that medicalized psychiatry is trying to make obsolete. There is considerable evidence (see Shedler, 2010; Shedler, 2006) that psychodynamic psychotherapy, of which post-Freudian psychoanalysis is one version, is more effective in the long-term than cognitive-behavioral models or psychopharmacology.

As the second Shedler article (2006) makes clear, what most people think of when they hear mention of psychoanalysis is pretty inaccurate. Post-Freudian theory is actually more precisely founded in Kohut's Self Psychology. And more than most models, it has adopted insights from attachment theory and neuroscience, not to mention philosophy, to make it more effective.

Anyway, here is Fong's article. For the record, few psychoanalysts still hold to Freud's drive theory (that neurosis is based in repressed instinctual drives) - and this if what Fong refers to with the primary and secondary processes in the article.

Freud’s Radical Talking

The Stone

The Stone is a forum for contemporary philosophers on issues both timely and timeless.
Death is supposed to be an event proclaimed but once, and yet some deaths, curiously enough, need to be affirmed again and again, as if there were a risk that the interred will crawl back up into the world of the living if fresh handfuls of dirt are not tossed on their graves. One such member of the living dead, accompanying the likes of God and Karl Marx, is Sigmund Freud. How often one hears, thanks recently to the fetishization of neuroscience, that psychoanalysis is now bunk, irrelevant, its method decadent and “dangerous,” as the recent David Cronenberg film, “A Dangerous Method,” informs us.
Over the years, the “talking cure” — so dubbed by Bertha Pappenheim, a.k.a. “Anna O.,” who became Freud’s first psychoanalytic case study — has received quite a bit of ridicule and reworking. With countless children and adults taking behavior-altering drugs, many are again tolling the bell for psychoanalysis. Who wouldn’t choose fast-acting pills over many years on the couch, health insurance companies most of all? Perhaps, after surviving scandal, revision and pop characterization, drugs and money will definitively put old Sigmund to rest.

If psychoanalysis were simply a way of “curing” certain individuals of socially unwanted behavior, then I would have no problem with its disappearance. Similarly, if psychoanalysis were just a way for wealthy individuals to talk to one another about their lackluster existences, it might as well continue on its way to the dustbin of history. And if, God forbid, psychoanalysis has devolved into just another addition to the theory toolkit of academics in the humanities, someone ought to put it out of its misery now.
radical talking
That said, I think there is something of great worth in the “talking cure” that would be troubling to see succumb to a cultural death. That something has to do with the relation between two realms of psychic activity that Freud called the “primary” and “secondary” processes. The former domain is instinctual and relentless, a deep reservoir of irrational drives that lie just beneath the apparently calm façade of our civilized selves. The latter is the façade itself, the measured and calculating exterior we unconsciously create to negotiate everyday life. Although these two terms are somewhat obscure, the basic divide between them is familiar to the point of obviousness.

We know all too well, for instance, that the secondary process often fails to contain the depths below, which sends envoys to the surface in the form of anxiety, depression, prejudice and hypocrisy. The more we devote ourselves to the dominant cultural norms, the more those drives begin to fester within us, until eventually they seep through the cracks in most unexpected ways. It is, therefore, necessary to confront the “problem” of the primary process, which has in recent times received two “answers.”

The first stresses the need for the secondary process to conquer the primary by means of an “education to reality.” From a very early age, we are asked to recall facts, to support our statements, to string together arguments, to anticipate counter-arguments, to make decisions, and, if our teachers and parents are sufficiently sensitive to the ways of our pluralistic society, to remain respectful towards those who disagree with us. Some social critics would have us believe that the only thing wrong with this picture is its disjunction with reality: if only our schools and our families were better training our youth in the public use of reason, our democracy would not be in the decrepit state it is in.

No doubt there is some truth here, but this general attitude blinds us to how crippling the exercise of our reasoning faculties can often be. In professional settings, of course, this kind of objective problem-solving and collective decision-making is needed and rewarded in turn. When problems have a clear and precise answer, the gears of production can keep spinning. Nothing, however, could be more detrimental to the sort of understanding required by our social existence than the widespread belief that all problems have answers (or, for that matter, that all problems are problems).

The second “answer” calls for the liberation rather than the repression of the primary process. We all need, so the logic goes, to appease our inner selves. So we may take vacations, pop pills, go to the movies, drink, smoke or shop. And when we are done caring for our “self,” that uniquely American preoccupation of the 20th century, we may resume our rational behavior all the better, unencumbered temporarily by that pesky inner turmoil that makes us human.

Freud himself suggested neither of these alternatives. Rather, he proposed that we engage in a particular kind of conversation that runs something like this: one person talks without worrying about whether his words are “right,” in the sense of their being both correct and appropriate, and the other listens without judging any disclosure to be more important than another. In contrast to most conversations, which have certain culturally-defined limits and rhythms of propriety, this exchange has no such rigid rules. It ventures to awkward places. It becomes too intense. And more often than not, it is utterly boring, reducing both partners to long bouts of silence.

From an outside perspective, the conversation is pointless. And indeed, most of the time it appears to be a waste. But in its disjunction with routine human interaction, it opens a space for our knotted interiors, so used to “having a point,” to slowly unravel. As each piece flakes off, it is examined and seen in relation to other pieces. After a long while, we gain what might be called, to borrow a term from Martin Heidegger, a “free relation” to these parts of ourselves and our world, such that the unmovable density they once comprised becomes pliable and navigable. Some key pieces appear and others vanish, but the puzzle is never complete. The aim of the conversation, however, is not completion, which short of death itself is an illusion, but the ability to change. This change involves neither the victory of the secondary process nor the liberation of the primary process but rather the opening of lines of communication between them.

We have become accustomed to temporarily putting aside our knotted interiors only to return to them as they were. “Reality will always be what it is; we can only hope for breaks every once in awhile.” This is a dogma both psychological and political. What Freud proposed, and what remains revolutionary in his thought today, is that human beings have the capacity for real change, the kind that would undo the malicious effects of our upbringings and educations so as to obviate the need for “breaks from real life,” both voluntary and involuntary.

What is paradoxical in his proposal is that this revolution requires less “work,” not more. There is a premium today on “doing,” as if we are now suffering, amidst astounding productivity, from an essential passivity. Freud’s conversation is, of course, a kind of work that is often very taxing. Yet it is always and inevitably what the classical economists called “unproductive labor.”

Against our culture of productivity and its attendant subculture of “letting off steam,” Freud hypothesized that the best way to refashion our world for the better is to adopt a new way of speaking to one another. Above all, this radical way of talking is defined by what appears to be extended pointlessness, something we are increasingly incapable of tolerating as the world around us moves ever faster. There are books to read, mouths to feed, meetings to attend, corporations to fight or defend, new places to visit, starving children to save…who has the time? And yet it is precisely in not allowing ourselves the time to be “unproductive” that reality is insured to remain rigid and unchanging.

According to Hannah Arendt, the world, as opposed to the earth, is something man-made. It is planned out with the ideas from our heads and composed of the work of our hands. But without deep human relatedness, it is but a static “heap of things,” a hardened reality that we run around while remaining in the same place. What lends pliability to reality, she claims, as Freud did decades earlier, is taking the time to talk with one another without any predetermined purpose, without hurrying from one topic to another, without seeking solutions, and without skirting the real difficulty of actually communicating with one another. It is here that the continuing value of Freud’s discovery asserts itself. If psychoanalysis is dead — that is — if we no longer care about Freud’s problems, then so too is the human capacity to enact change.

Benjamin Y. Fong is a doctoral candidate in philosophy of religion at Columbia University, and an affiliate scholar at the Columbia University Center for Psychoanalytic Training and Research. His dissertation is a reevaluation of the psychoanalytic concept of the death drive.
 


Sunday, February 05, 2012

Carla Leone - An Intersubjective Approach to Couple Therapy

I have been working to learn intersubjective approaches to couple therapy - it requires much more attentional focus than working with individuals, but over the brief time I have been trying to use this model (having tried and rejected many of the traditional models of couple and family therapy), I have been impressed by how quickly couples can shift when they feel their partners can hear and meet their needs.

Carla Leone has written three excellent articles on working with couples from a Self Psychology and intersubjective approach - one of those papers is excerpted below (you can read the whole paper at the link in the citation below). I await a book from her - I think her approach to couple therapy is very useful.

David Shaddock has also written some good material on intersubjective couple therapy, including Contexts and Connections: An Intersubjective Systems Approach to Couples Therapy and a presentation given at the 25th Annual Conference on the Psychology of the Self, "Couples therapy as therapy: Fostering individual growth in conjoint contexts."



Citation:
Leone, C. (2008). Couple therapy from the perspective of Self Psychology and intersubjectivity theory. Psychoanalytic Psychology, Vol. 25, No. 1, 79–98. DOI: 10.1037/0736-9735.25.1.79

COUPLE THERAPY FROM THE PERSPECTIVE OF SELF PSYCHOLOGY AND INTERSUBJECTIVITY THEORY
Carla Leone, PhD

Excerpts:
A contemporary self-psychological, intersubjective psychoanalytic framework offers a wealth of concepts that are particularly applicable to the unique challenges of couples work. The concepts of selfobject experience, unconscious organizing principles, and learned relational patterns; an emphasis on listening from within the patient’s perspective; and the model’s approach to defensiveness and aggression, in particular, make it extremely useful for understanding and intervening with troubled couples. This framework differs from the classical and object relations approaches to couples treatment (e.g., Dicks, 1967; Scharff & Scharff, 1991) in a number of important ways, and thus offers an alternative psychoanalytic approach to this challenging but often powerful and rewarding form of treatment. (p. 80)

* * * * *

The concept of selfobject experience, as originally proposed by Kohut (1971, 1977, 1984) and revised and extended by others (Stolorow, Brandshaft, & Atwood, 1987), captures much of what people are generally looking for in couples’ relationships: experiences that help them consolidate and maintain a positive, cohesive sense of self. More simply, people want a partner who makes them feel better, not worse. This generally means someone understanding, positive, and affirming; someone they can look up to, admire, and lean on in times of stress, who helps with the experience, modulation and integration of affect; and someone with whom they feel a sense of essential likeness and belonging—in other words, someone who functions as a reliable source of selfobject experience.

Troubled, conflictual couples are not reliably able to provide these experiences for each other. A lack of needed selfobject experience underlies most or all couples’ presenting problems, whether the problems involve conflict or disengagement, and whether overtly about sex, money, housework, parenting, in-laws, or whatever. (p. 81)

* * * * *

Couples’ relationships are highly influenced by the extent to which each partner has developed a positive, cohesive sense of self and the ability to articulate, regulate, and integrate affect. People who have not done so are more dependent on others to provide self-functions, such as affirmation or soothing. They are more reactive to injuries or selfobject failures, and either too overwhelmed by their own affective experience or too affectively deadened to empathically grasp and respond to the experience of others. These deficits thus leave them with more intense needs for responsiveness, yet less capacity to be responsive. (p. 82)

* * * * *

Couples’ relationships are also influenced by the particular ways partners experience each other and their interactions. According to intersubjectivity theory, people experience the world through the lens of their particular organizing frameworks–unique unconscious organizing principles or templates–that formed based on early relational experiences (Stolorow, Brandshaft, & Atwood, 1987). This is a contemporary definition of transference, which differs from previous views of transference as distortion, projection, and so forth. These unconscious organizing processes influence what partners expect and fear in relationships, what they notice or attend to, the psychic “meaning” of interactions, and their emotional and behavioral responses to others. (p. 83)

* * * * *

Unconscious organizing principles or frameworks help explain how and why people so often end up with partners who are so tragically similar to early figures, despite having consciously intended to find someone very different. (p. 83)

* * * * *

The concepts of the selfobject and repetitive dimensions of experience (Stolorow, Brandshaft, & Atwood, 1987), thought to exist in a figure-ground relationship to each other, help shed light on these questions. In the early part of a relationship, the selfobject dimension of experience is generally in the foreground. Each person views the other primarily through the organizing lens of the viewer’s selfobject needs and longings–as a potential source of needed selfobject experience. Through this lens, the ways the other person meets (or seems to meet) the viewer’s selfobject needs are in clearest focus, whereas the ways they do not are seemingly not noticed or attended to. This is the wonderful, exhilarating, blissful part of the relationship, before the new partners have ever experienced each other through the lens of the repetitive dimension of experience. (p. 84)

* * * * *

At some point during this “honeymoon” or selfobject dimension phase, a selfobject failure or empathic rupture triggers the emergence of the repetitive dimension of experience. One partner then shifts to experiencing the other primarily through the lens of previous negative relational experiences. At this point, the partner’s similarities to previous disappointing others are most noticed and attended to. (p. 84)

* * * * *

A final point about how partners end up with someone so painfully similar to early figures: people do not fall for just anyone who offers the missing selfobject experiences they need. ... Rather, we are particularly attracted to those who offer important selfobject experiences and seem (consciously or unconsciously) similar to early figures in important ways. The similarities feel familiar and offer the potentially more powerful corrective experience of getting the needed responses from someone very similar to the parents or caretakers–perhaps the next best thing to getting such responses from them directly. Unfortunately, of course, the similarities set the stage for terrible repetitions of previous disappointments as well. (p. 84)

* * * * *

Self-capacities and organizing frameworks, discussed in the previous two sections, influence the way people behave in relationships. They affect how we typically cue others to our needs and feelings, what we do when we are hurt, disappointed or angry, how sexual feelings and needs are expressed, and so on. These patterns are internalized based on the interactional patterns the developing child witnessed and was part of. (p. 84-85)

* * * * *

(Note: The concept of learned relational patterns as I use it here is generally consistent with the work of Stolorow and his colleagues, discussed above, as well as with the concepts of implicit relational knowing or implicit relational procedures as discussed by the Boston Process of Change group (Lyons-Ruth, 1997), Herzog’s “relational templates” (Herzog, 2004), Beebe and Lachmann’s patterns of self and mutual regulation (Beebe & Lachmann, 2002), and the work of Mitchell and other relational theorists on relational patterns (e.g., Mitchell, 1988, 1997). For the purposes of this paper, the nuances of the distinctions between these concepts are not relevant.) (p. 85)

* * * * *

In this model, the essential goal of treatment is to help partners to become more able to function as a source of selfobject experiences for each other in a reliable, reciprocal manner. Doing so involves the ability to communicate needs clearly, grasp each other’s selfobject needs and notice each other’s cues, understand each other’s experience and behaviors, tolerate occasional empathic failures without experiencing them as threatening to the self, and repair empathic ruptures quickly. These abilities are related to the three areas discussed above: the state of the self, the organization of the experience of others (transference), and learned relational patterns.

Self-deficits are addressed by focusing on the self-experience and selfobject needs of each partner, such that the therapist becomes a source of selfobject experience for each. The goal is to facilitate the development of a more positive, cohesive sense of self, and the ability to experience and regulate affect adaptively. This process was originally conceptualized as the gradual internalization of functions initially provided by the therapist (Kohut, 1971, 1977) and later as a gradual reorganization of the experience of the self (Stolorow, Brandshaft, & Atwood, 1987). It occurs through a process of empathic immersion into the subjective inner world of each partner and the establishment of a therapeutic dialogue with each partner. Through this dialogue, each patient’s selfobject needs can be met his or her and self-experience illuminated, understood, and gradually transformed.

The dialogue also turns partners’ attention toward understanding how they came to experience themselves, others, and their current relationship as they do. The underlying meanings of each partner’s complaints are understood and illuminated, especially as they reflect unmet selfobject needs from early relationships and the influence of the repetitive dimension of experience.

The therapist and partners gradually identify and examine relationship behaviors or patterns in terms of how they developed historically and the purposes (such as defensive or protective) they are currently serving. The therapeutic relationship and the couple’s relationship serve to illuminate these old relational patterns and offer the opportunity to develop new relationships through which these old patterns and templates can be transformed.

The couple therapist focuses on developing a selfobject relationship with both partners and facilitating selfobject experience between them. She listens carefully to each partner from within that partner’s own subjective perspective and attempts to respond in an attuned manner to each partner’s selfobject needs of the moment. She attends carefully to the state of the self of each and makes every effort to make the sessions a safe place where narcissistic injury is minimized and empathic ruptures are quickly explored and repaired. The focus is on both promoting insight and understanding and on helping partners develop new relationship behaviors. Thus, interventions include empathic reflections and interpretations, setting empathic limits when needed, and directive or coaching interventions when these facilitate selfobject experience between the partners. (p. 85-86)

* * * * *

Several aspects of self-psychology theory are particularly relevant to difficulties that commonly arise in the treatment of couples. These difficulties include cases in which the therapist understands one partner more easily than the other; those in which one or both partners are easily narcissistically injured, defensive, or resistant; and partners who are blaming, hostile, and/or aggressive. Self-psychological concepts most useful when dealing with these difficulties will be discussed in turn.

Equal Empathic Immersion
The concept of listening from within the patient’s own subjective perspective is a major contribution to individual treatment, yet is perhaps even more crucial in couple work where there is another perspective to listen within. An emphasis on understanding each patient from within his or her own subjective perspective can help therapists avoid a classic pitfall of couple work: the tendency to identify with or understand one partner more easily than the other and to intentionally or unintentionally side with one against the other.

* * * * *

I have found it more helpful to pay close attention to my listening stance or vantage point and try to deliberately shift it whenever I notice that I am not equally empathically in touch with both partners. In general, whenever one partner’s view has seemed more correct, valid, or reasonable than the other’s, I have found that I am not listening to the less-valid-seeming partner from within that person’s own subjective perspective.
 
Ringstrom (1994) presented a compelling example of a couple in which the husband initially seemed to the therapist to be much more disturbed than the wife, just as the wife contended. However, when the man’s odd and alarming behaviors were explored and understood in depth from within his own perspective, what initially looked “crazy” to both the wife and therapist became much more understandable. I have had similar, though less dramatic, experiences on many occasions with couples.

Of course, deliberately shifting one’s listening stance is more easily said than done. Couple work often leads to intense emotional reactions in the therapist that can interfere with the smooth shifting of listening stances and achievement of the goal of equal empathic immersion. This work often involves sitting with partners who are intensely angry, hurt, or miserable, who are actively hurting each other before our eyes, and/or who are terribly stuck - unable to make their relationship work yet unable to get out of it. (p. 86-87)

* * * * *

Narcissistic Injury and the Rupture and Repair Sequence
The risk of narcissistic injury seems to me to be even higher in couple work than in individual treatment modalities. Partners frequently injure each other during couple sessions, and empathic ruptures between therapist and patients are also more frequent because the therapist’s attention is divided. Thus, an understanding of narcissistic vulnerability and an emphasis on the repair of empathic ruptures are particularly important in couple work.

With this in mind, when working with couples I experience myself as vigilantly, constantly monitoring the state of the self of each partner and their moment to moment sense of injury as it is conveyed verbally and nonverbally. Although I certainly watch for and process empathic ruptures in individual work as well, I am less vigilant since injuries occur less often. With couples, I scrutinize each partner for signs of injury, “sniff it out,” and intervene quickly in an effort to reduce, recognize, and repair injuries. This can involve anything from a glance that conveys “Ouch, I know that hurt” to empathic limits on hurtful, abusive behavior, to seeing partners separately in certain circumstances if they cannot avoid traumatically injuring each other when seen together.

As I have discussed in more detail elsewhere (Leone, 2001), one of my guidelines for determining when to see partners (or family members) together versus separately is the degree to which they are able to be in the same room without constant traumatic narcissistic injuries to each other. A full discussion of the advantages and disadvantages of seeing partners separately is beyond the scope of this paper, but protecting each from further traumatic injury is an important factor to be considered when making this decision.
 
When partners are seen together, it is important that the therapist help them convey their unmet needs and complaints in a manner that is sensitive to the narcissistic needs of the partner who is the target of the complaints. The goal is to make the sessions a place where selfobject experience can occur, not selfobject injury. This may require the therapist to take an active role in empathically setting limits or containing patients who are intentionally or inadvertently hurting each other. (p. 87-88)

* * * * *

For example, the therapist might say, “I understand how furious you are and how much you need to say this, but I want to help you say it in a way that increases the likelihood you can get the response you need.” The goal is to help partners take much better care of the other’s narcissistic needs while also conveying their own needs and complaints.
 
Whenever possible, the therapist can also point out and affirm any “forward edge” or growth-promoting aspects of a particular behavior or comment, whereas also noting its problematic or “trailing edge” aspects (Tolpin, 2002). (p. 88)

* * * * *

Defensiveness and Resistance as Self-Protection
Self psychology’s view of defensiveness and resistance as “obligatory measures of self-protection” (Wolf, 1984) is an important contribution to individual treatment, but is perhaps even more important in couple work where partners are often more defensive and resistant than they are in the safety and security of the individual analytic hour. For example, couple therapists frequently struggle with couples in which one or both partners firmly believe the difficulties in the relationship are caused solely or primarily by the other person. Other examples include partners who argue with or reject any critical feedback they receive and couples in which one or both partners are extremely resistant to engaging in couple treatment despite clear relationship difficulties. In such cases, a focus on listening from within each partner’s own subjective perspective (which can be imagined, in the case of a spouse who is not present) and on understanding the self-protective function of the defensive behavior can be extremely useful.

In this model, the focus is not on confronting the defensiveness or overcoming the resistance but on understanding how such behaviors serve to protect a vulnerable self. (p. 88-89)

* * * * *

Partners can also be helped to understand the function of defensiveness in themselves and each other. For example, those who are struggling with their partner’s refusal to enter couple treatment can be helped to see the partner’s reluctance to do so as natural and understandable given that person’s fears or previous experiences. I have often found that when one partner tells me the other will “never, ever, under any circumstances” agree to couple therapy, that person frequently understands very little about the reluctant partner’s reasons for refusing. When the willing partner is finally able to be empathic and responsive to the many legitimate reasons the reluctant partner has for refusing (fear of embarrassment, of being ganged up on, of retraumatization, or of loss; discomfort with a process that is not a social norm, and so on), the reluctant partner is often more amenable to reconsidering his or her decision. (p. 89)

* * * * *

Aggression and Hostility as Expressions of Narcissistic Injury
Lastly, yelling, threatening, and aggressive words or even actions can be difficult enough to deal with in individual treatment, but when multiplied times two (or three, when the therapist gets angry, as well) they can be overwhelming. Self psychology’s conceptualization of anger and aggression as secondary to narcissistic injury or perceived threat to the self (Kohut, 1972) can help therapists stay grounded in the face of chaos and respond in ways that are most likely to help people move into a more vulnerable, less hostile place. 

Aggressive behaviors, including verbal aggression, can be understood as efforts to do one or more of the following: communicate the experience of injury or threat and put a stop to the injurious behavior, demand or otherwise elicit desperately needed selfobject responses, and restore or shore up the self. Anger, especially outrage and righteous indignation, can be energizing and vitalizing (Lachmann, 2000). These feelings “pump us up,” restore a sense of power and potency, and protect us from more vulnerable feelings such as hurt, sadness, or shame (Livingston, 1998). Aggressive ways of responding to disappointment or pain and of expressing angry feelings developed through the partners’ repeated early experiences of the ways these feelings were expressed and dealt with in their families.

With these concepts in mind, the therapist can respond to anger and aggression by empathically appreciating and legitimizing the angry person’s experience while also limiting its inappropriate expression. This involves first matching the angry person’s affective tone and summarizing his or her position in an emotionally intense manner that captures the person’s experience as closely as possible. Hearing one’s angry feelings accurately and powerfully articulated can have an immediately calming effect: people don’t feel as great a need to continue ranting or building a case once it is clear that their position has been accurately understood in depth. (p. 89-90)

* * * * *

In addition to an accurate empathic encapsulation of the angry partner’s experience, the therapist may need to set empathic limits on the expression of anger to keep the session safe and to help structure and contain an out-of-control person. As discussed in the last section, the therapist should be careful to avoid using an authoritarian or reprimanding tone and should instead emphasize her empathic understanding of the reasons for the behavior, or its forward edge aspects, if any, whereas also gently limiting it. “I can see how that would have made you furious, how it would have hurt you and provoked you. And I think it’s very healthy for you to find a way to say, ‘no, I won’t be hurt in that old way anymore,’ but in order for that to happen, we’ve got to help you do this differently,” the therapist might say. (p. 90)

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Finally, once the angry person feels thoroughly understood and is in a calmer, more reflective place, the therapist can begin to focus on exploring and making sense of the anger in terms of the concepts just discussed. Rage can be translated into the language of unmet needs and injuries, old injuries that were repeated or reactivated by the current precipitant can be identified, and the influence of the patient’s particular ways of organizing experience can be explored. The energizing, restorative, or protective functions of the anger or outrage and the influence of each partner’s early experiences of anger can be identified and understood. (p. 90)

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Directive Interventions as Selfobject Experiences
Although understanding and explaining were the only intervention options for classical self psychologists, more recently noninterpretive interventions have been viewed as appropriate when they are experienced by the patient as a selfobject response (e.g., Bacal, 1990). For example, a number of authors have advocated a more intersubjective relatedness (Shane, Shane, & Gales, 1995) or subject-to-subject relatedness (Jacobs, 1995) between therapist and patient, when this form of relating is judged to be optimal for the patient. In this section, I suggest that directive, educating, or behavioral techniques can also be experienced as optimally responsive by some patients.

Consistent with this view, Connors (2001) recently discussed the role of active, symptom-focused techniques in the self psychologically informed treatment of anxiety disorders and behavior disorders. I agree with her assertion that “reduction of symptomatic problems strengthens the self and facilitates deeper levels of self-exploration and therapeutic involvement” (Connors, 2001, p. 74). This framework is consistent with the work of Basch (1988) regarding the “spiral” relationship between behavior change and selfesteem and his use of directive, advice-giving interventions in certain cases. It is also consistent with the work of those calling for an integration of psychoanalytic and behavioral or directive approaches (Bader, 1994; Wachtel, 1994).

The use of directive, educating or advice-giving interventions can be particularly important in the treatment of relationships, where the goal is not only self-development, but also interpersonal behavior change. Helping partners become more attuned and responsive to each other may require a more psychoeducational or directive approach at times, such as when trying to help partners learn how to comfort each other, seduce each other, express anger adaptively, or otherwise understand and respond differently to each other. (p. 93)

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In contrast, I advocate the use of directive techniques when (and only when) they are experienced by one or both partners as a needed selfobject response or when they facilitate a selfobject experience between the partners. Thus, they may be used at any point in the treatment after the therapist has developed some empathic appreciation for each partner’s selfobject needs and a sense of how each might experience more directive interventions. From a self psychological perspective, directions, advice, exercises, and the like can be understood as idealizing selfobject functions, in which the therapist is experienced as someone who can be looked up to as a source of wisdom, care taking, and so on. Thus, they are most appropriate in the context of an idealizing transference from both partners, or when both seem to need structuring, containing or guidance. They may be especially important with patients who did not experience their parents as providing these things. (p. 94)

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Conclusion
Self-psychology and intersubjectivity theory can be very helpful to clinicians struggling with the challenges involved in treating couples. Understanding and reframing conflicts in terms of underlying selfobject needs, the influence of unconscious organizing frameworks and learned patterns of relating help couples become better able to meet each other’s selfobject needs. Basic tenets of self psychology, including listening from within the patient’s perspective, careful attention to narcissistic vulnerability, and an understanding of the functions of defense, resistance and aggression can be particularly useful in avoiding common pitfalls of couple work. Finally, directive interventions can be useful when they are experienced by the couple as responsive to a selfobject need or as facilitating selfobject experience between them. (p. 96)