Letters to a Young Psychologist & the Golden Coin: Freud or Jung?

By Ignacio Solares

Letters to a Young Psychologist consists of a series of essays in the form of letters. As a primer on the subject of psychology, it is unique because it comes through the lens of a novelist with insightful references to the junction of psychology and literature.
Early in the book, Solares gives an overview of why the field of psychology fascinates him: Vast regions of the human mind havent yet been mapped. He encourages the reader: I can only hope that you will fall madly in love with [psychology]. I give you these letters thoroughly drenched in that same spirit, starting with Freud and ending with the discovery of hypnosis and the volatile introduction of drugs into psychotherapy.
Solares explores Freud's contributions and limitations, and does the same for Jung. He also tackles Behaviorism. Pragmatism, spirituality, an entertaining predecessor of Freud, Franz Mesmer, the use and misuse of drugs in psychological treatment, and role of meditation in psychology.
The Golden Coin: Freud or Jung?, an award-winning play, features an enlightening and lively intellectual duel between the two famous psychologists of the title, one of whom visits the other from the afterlife.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Jul 25, 2014
• ISBN: 9781496919588

Ignacio Solares

Ignacio Solares has long been one of Mexico’s most outstanding writers and cultural figures. He received Mexico’s highest literary honor in 2010, the National Award for Linguistics and Literature. He has published seventeen novels, four books of short stories, four books of essays, and has written fourteen plays, most of which have been performed on prominent Mexican stages. He recently completed a 13-year term as the director of the Revista de la Universidad de México , arguably the most influential cultural magazine in Mexico.

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Letters to a Young Psychologist & The Golden Coin: Freud or Jung?

© 2014 Ignacio Solares. All rights reserved.

Letters to a Young Psychologist was originally published in Mexico as Cartas a una joven psicóloga by Alfaguara, © 1999 by Ignacio Solares.

The Golden Coin: Freud or Jung? was originally published in Mexico as La moneda de oro ¿Freud o Jung?, in Teatro Histórico by Universidad Nacional Autónoma de México, © 2003 by Ignacio Solares.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 07/24/2014

ISBN: 978-1-4969-1959-5 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4969-1958-8 (e)

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

CONTENTS

A Prologue Of Sorts

Letter 1     The Flower That Affects A Star

Letter 2     The Discovery Of The Unconscious

Letter 3     The Case Of Little Hans

Letter 4     Freudian Skepticism

Letter 5     The Collective Unconscious

Letter 6     Crisis And Jungian Sublimation

Letter 7     The Theory Of Synchronicity

Letter 8     Behaviorism

Letter 9     Pragmatism

Letter 10   The Magic Wand

Letter 11   Miraculous Drugs

Letter 12   Psychology And Meditation

(An Almost) Minimal Bibliography

The Golden Coin: Freud or Jung?

A PROLOGUE OF SORTS

When I wrote my Cartas para Claudia (Letters for Claudia) 18 years ago, I made the rounds of the major publishing houses of Buenos Aires with my manuscript, offering it to them to publish. One of the few editors who condescended to send me an answer rejected it with the argument (which was true at the time) that no one buys psychology books except psychologists, followed by a wink of the eye as he added, and they buy very few.

It now makes me smile to think of his opinion, which fortunately was not at all prophetic, and recognize that books dealing with psychology have an important place in contemporary literature.

Since that time it has become increasingly clear to me that it isn’t always an expert who can best explain concepts of science or art. This assertion is proven to perfection in the case of Ignacio Solares.

Using the pretense of writing letters to his daughter, the author takes us by the hand for a stroll through a century of the development of the sciences which seek to understand the individual in society, masterfully (in my opinion) intertwining information stemming from various psychological currents with contributions from literature which have clarified, confirmed, or disproved that knowledge.

Antonio Gala, a great Spanish writer, says that life is a kind of mobile card game in which we are all participating. The metaphor suggests that life deals the cards and that our freedom consists of nothing more or less than choosing how to play them.

I have always thought that it would be fascinating to be present, as a simple spectator, at a table with expert players, to see how they play their cards and hear them explain their thinking to those of us who are less experienced. Lo and behold, dear reader, this privilege will be yours, because, in accordance with Gala’s metaphor, Ignacio Solares is inviting you in these pages to witness several hands in this game of human conduct which we usually call Psychology.

Don’t be intimidated when you learn the names of the players. The host has gone to great lengths to make the language accessible, even though in the original texts it is often hermetic, and to simplify the rules of the game, which at times can be incomprehensible to an apprentice, without losing veracity or profundity.

You are going to find yourself with what seems to be two groups of players: I will call the first team psych and the other liter.

The captain of the first team is none other than Sigmund Freud, and its roster includes Jung, Skinner, Mesmer, James, Sacks, Frankl, and a dozen other thinkers, therapists, and philosophers who will explain through the author their ideas, principles, and theories. Team liter’s captain is Aldous Huxley, and he is joined by Cortázar, Chesterton, Dostoevsky, Mann, Orwell, and the venerable Jorge Luis Borges, to mention just a few of its members.

Each page of this book acts as a masterful round of cards pitting these geniuses of psychology and literature. Solares’ mastery consists of showing us over and over again that both groups actually play on the same team, and that each group develops with the blessing, input, and support of the other.

The flirtatious relationship between psychology and literature is nothing new; the author himself points out that Freud was nominated for a Nobel Prize for literature. We find several remarkable characteristics in the text, including the way it flows, an almost infallible accuracy of concepts, pleasure in reading, and an extra hidden something on almost every page. Solares does exactly what he tries to show in the work; he also manages to transform his aesthetically beautiful book into a work of psychological transcendence.

After reading these Letters, we are forced to accept the premise of Humberto Maturana, who maintained that science can only ask what no one but a poet can answer.

I would like to think that there is a line of continuity between my Letters for Claudia and these Letters to a Young Psychologist. If I were to define that line, I think it would have to do with the decision to dust off the academic and enigmatic knowledge associated with science, and transform it into images and words accessible to everyone’s desires and needs.

It has been my honor to be the butler of the house, to welcome you and express my desire that your visit will be instructive and pleasant, as I am sure it will be.

June 2001, Buenos Aires, Argentina

Dr. Jorge M. Bucay

Letter 1

THE FLOWER THAT AFFECTS A STAR

Dear Maty:

I’m thrilled that you want to study psychology. After literature it is my favorite subject, although I should alert you that it can be frustrating. After all, more than two thousand years after the death of Socrates and his famous counsel, know thyself, we still don’t know very well what psychology studies.

Vast regions of the human mind haven’t yet been mapped. With regard to the fauna which exists there, we aren’t professional zoologists (far from it!), but rank amateurs and collectors of peculiarities. But what are we to do, Maty? Psychologists are closer to daring boy scouts than to disciplined scientists who want to prove everything in a lab to validate it. There are good reasons for that.

If, as we were saying, no landscape in human topography is less explored than the mind, that means that almost everything related to it remains to be said, or even to be thought or discussed. And that’s exactly what we do each time we refer to the topic—we think of ourselves as psychologists with the right to give our opinions. When a physician speaks about the heart and the circulation of blood, we listen with humility and curiosity, but if a psychologist talks about child sexuality, someone always wrinkles his brow and interrupts.

So, first piece of advice: don’t spread it around that you’re going to study psychology, because given your age and sensitivity people will suppose that the one with a screw loose is you. Second piece of advice: if you read something about psychology, keep it to yourself and don’t comment about it to relatives and acquaintances. The comments you would provoke could frustrate you, which is the most dangerous thing that could happen to you. And for heaven’s sake, don’t try to interpret a friend’s dreams, because you’re more than likely to offend her.

Keep your distance, exactly as astronomers do with the sun—that is the best way to get to know people.

The truth is (we have to recognize it), the definitions and directions of psychology are so varied that virtually nobody agrees with anyone about anything.

Some say it is the study of the soul (Aristotle).

But what soul, behaviorists ask. Who has seen one? (Have you seen anyone’s soul, Maty?) When we study people’s actions, they turn out to be nothing more than a bundle of frantic wing-flapping, reactions to external stimuli, and conditioned reflexes. People move --or salivate— the way Pavlov’s hungry dog did when they would ring the little bell before giving him delicious treats. If we want to cure people we need to de-condition them, change their wing-flapping and the ringing of certain dangerous bells, period.

Or, on the other hand, might it be that our mind is like an enormous sea containing just a few islands and stretches of peaceful water illuminated by the sun, a region known as consciousness, with vast turbulent dark depths inhabited by menacing marine monsters constantly trying to reach the surface, a region called the unconscious (Freud)?

But pay close attention and you’ll find that there are people who deny the existence of that unconscious (the entire sea, on the surface and in the depths, is one and the same) and they make their bad faith known to the world. As the saying goes, the worst kind of blind person is the one who does not want to see. We permanently reject awareness of what we really want because it doesn’t work into our plans and the image we want to have of ourselves, hypocrites that we are (existential psychoanalisis).

But consider that perhaps what prevails in our motivations is the instinct of power (of Power), of control over other people (I’m going to mess them over just to show them I can), of an implacable and never ending affective and territorial conquest, of self-affirmation in everything and with everyone (my wife is mine, my children are mine, my house is mine, my business is mine) which actually works as compensation for (and it is sad to recognize it) a hidden inferiority complex (Adler).

Or might it be that the social and political environment in which we are born and raised leaves an indelible mark on our actions and our dreams, our repressions and our liberty? For instance, you probably know that there’s a big difference between the psychological problems of the Spanish youth during Franco’s dictatorship, under the eye of the Catholic Church, and the youth of today’s more open Spain, who are confronted with the constant temptation of pornography and drugs. After all, our environment determines our approach to life and death, to health and neurosis (Fromm).

Or should we aim higher and find the key to man’s triumphs and failings in what is called the collective unconscious, a kind of great universal, divine dream in which we all participate (Jung)?

Apart from all this, get used to the fact that psychologists, psychoanalysts and psychiatrists, all branches of the same tree, are always at loggerheads with each other. Recently, the director of the most important psychiatric hospital in Mexico City told me that a good percentage of his patients started with psychoanalytic therapy, from which almost nobody emerges unscathed. With a mocking expression on his face, he reminded me of the harsh criticism psychoanalysis has received from the time it came into existence: it is the illness that attempts to heal itself. You may well already know that psychiatrists want to cure everything with tranquilizers and electroshocks, which aren’t effective solutions either.

Ugh! What a mess, don’t you think? But wait Maty, don’t get discouraged. You’ll see that even though it lacks definition and purpose, it’s really enjoyable to study psychology, and even better to practice it. Become the other, mentally. That is the strategy of Chesterton’s Father Brown, a detective who solved his cases by becoming the murderer he was pursuing.

You see, it was I who killed all those people.

What? repeated the other, in a small voice out of a vast silence.

You see, I had murdered them all myself, explained Father Brown patiently. … I had thought out exactly how a thing like that could be done, and in what style or state of mind a man could really do it. And when I was quite sure that I felt exactly like the murderer myself, of course I knew who he was."

As you can see, the whole thing is very simple: the psychologist has to be his own patient. Perhaps then he’ll find the specific therapeutic system he requires, no matter its name. In the meantime, the generous and humane acts of psychologists make them the first to feel happy and fulfilled. Hence, this letter, as my answer to your urgent petition: Explain to me in writing why you enjoy psychology so much. What a request you have made! Chesterton, an expert on the topic, says that on one occasion a friend of his asked him on the street if he still believed in God, which forced him to start writing a two hundred page book as soon as he arrived home.

The answer to your question can suddenly spread out like a fan, and that’s why I must not lose sight of your original petition. Actually, pleasantness is the highest quality to which a discipline or any human study can aspire. If anything can heal us beyond (or beneath) doctrines, concepts and education, it is a sense of humor in its most simple and mundane state: it makes everything become easier and more enjoyable. We need to smile at both God and the devil, at life and death. But beware of loud laughter, which can be a symptom of hysteria that can put you back into the labyrinth.

By the way, let me tell you about one of the most curious psychological cases I’ve heard of recently. It turns out that Norman Cousin, a very famous journalist from the Saturday Review, fell ill with multiple manifestations of ankylosis, a truly complicated illness that had him paralyzed and near death, with the odds of recovery at only one in five hundred. Cousin did not give up and decided, with the help of his psychoanalyst, to find within himself a healing power. He fled from his demanding family and settled in a small and peaceful hotel with no other amusement than a television set, a video cassette player and a collection of films…of Laurel and Hardy. He watched Laurel and Hardy films night and day. He discovered the therapeutic virtues of laughing, recovered his health and wrote a book about it that became a best seller. It may surprise you that there are schools of psychology that don’t beat about the bush and base their therapy entirely on laughing. There’s also a religious movement called Holy Laughter, based in Toronto, Canada, which is starting to gain followers throughout the world. Its central characteristic is uncontrollable laughing during the worship ceremonies. What do you think about that?

Within the requirement of pleasantness and due to my own professional deformation, my approach is to relate psychology to literature as much as possible, which the best psychologists have always done. Perhaps the most valuable thing a psychologist has is novels. Keep in mind that Freud was nominated for the Nobel Prize…for Literature, and he always recognized that it was poets who first discovered the unconscious. (In his study of Dostoyevsky he says: Unfortunately, the weapons of psychoanalysis pale compared to the creations of poets.) But this doesn’t lessen the value of his discoveries—quite the contrary. When Freud recognized the unconscious and gave it a central role in therapeutic treatment, it was a watershed moment for psychology, to the point that when we speak of this discipline we must speak of before and after Freud, in the same way we refer to things in history as before or after Christ. This is why I’d like to investigate the precedents of the unconscious, which will force us into a reappraisal of disciplines such as parapsychology and even magic.

Look at how the dizzying evolution of science and technology that we now see (and suffer) has constituted a frontal attack against anything that even sounds like magic. In untamed regions of the planet one can still find evidence of battles between medical doctors and folk healers. But man has clearly renounced almost entirely any magical conception of the world, as part of a campaign to control and conquer nature. We still have horoscopes, voodoo, the magazine Duda, esoteric rituals from the Caribbean, and the burning of palm leaves when thunder fills the sky, but there is really no choice at all if you need to choose between a crystal ball or a doctorate in psychology (which I hope you’ll get), or between magnetic passes or injections of penicillin when you have a sore throat. What would you say to your mother if your tonsils were erupting like volcanoes and she took you not to a physician, but to a folk healer so he could dance around you while playing a maraca?

But while magicians and scientists have locked horns in battle from century to century, a third group known as poets has continued with a task strangely similar to that of the primitive magical sorcerer, and with no opposition whatsoever. What has made them different from magicians (and has kept them from extinction) has been their seeming disinterest and disorientation, their absent-minded nature, their pursuit of things for art’s sake, for things with no apparent value, a handful of beautiful, harmless and soothing fruits: beauty, happiness, celebration, and the music of words. According to Julio Cortázar, "the poet has perpetuated and defended a system analogous to that of the magician, in that both share the feeling of the omnipotence of intuitive thought, the sacred value of a metaphor."

Just as the only and great objective of science is a desire to control reality, poets raise doubts and questions, invoke and exorcise ghosts that do not transcend the purely spiritual. Given that the impractical poet wasn’t competing with the scientist to be the owner of truth, he was left in peace and looked at with indulgence. Whenever a poet has been expelled from the prince’s court (pay attention and you’ll see that politicians always look at poets with contempt), it has been as a warning and statement on hygiene for the territory. Poet, you stay on the moon; we are in charge of this, the real world.

It was Freud who brought the poet down from the moon to work with him side by side. Without Freud’s fondness for poetry, he may never have conceived of the fundamentals of psychoanalysis. Yet there was a major hindrance: because Freud was trained in medicine, he considered his therapeutic task a mere branch of positivism, that is to say, rationalist and practical, exactly the opposite of a poet’s intuition. No one rebelled more effectively against the mechanistic conception of man that dominated western thought during the