Hereby we arrive at the second characteristic all neuroses have in common. In some way, shape or form, autonomous complexes are present which orchestrate the neurosis. Like a spider spinning its web, it constellates the various puzzling physical and psychic symptoms of a neurosis, all while lingering inconspicuously in the background.
Firstly, the complex consists of a certain nuclear element. This contains two components: ‘First, a factor determined by experience and causally related to the environment; second, a factor innate in the individual's character and determined by his disposition.’ To the degree that this nuclear element is charged with emotion (i.e. energic value), it constellates psychic contents around it. This brings us to the secondary effect the complex has. It weaves together a set of dynamically conditioned associations. Merely by proximity to the fiery nuclear element these associations also get affectively toned. Jung emphasizes that this constellation is far from random but follows certain selective criteria which are dictated ‘by the quality of the nuclear element’ [1].
Hence, it is somehow bound up with the causal event, whether it happened in present or ancestral life. What are these events? ‘Generally the complexes have to do with unpleasant things which one would rather forget and of which one has no wish to be reminded. The complexes themselves are the result, as a rule, of painful experiences and impressions’ [2].
Therefore, a complex is an ‘image of a certain psychic situation which is strongly accentuated emotionally and is, moreover, incompatible with the habitual attitude of consciousness.’ This image possesses a fierce inner coherence and is thus relatively autonomous. In other words, ‘it behaves like an animated foreign body in the sphere of consciousness’. As alluded to before, a complex is like a spider lurking in the background, weaving a powerful web of associations that influence the individual’s life in obscure ways. ‘The complex can usually be suppressed with an effort of will, but not argued out of existence, and at the first suitable opportunity it reappears in all its original strength’ [3].
Extrapolating our analogy, the spider is thus generally unteachable, stubborn and impish. In this way, the spider is comparable to a secondary or partial personality which possesses a mental life of its own. This autonomy from the conscious mind is also expressed by the fact that complexes appear to have a unique wavelength of hours, days or weeks. In periodic fashion, the spider wakes from its slumber and actively exerts its influence [4].
At this point, the scientifically minded reader may be thoroughly unsettled. Does that mean we have little gremlins who inhabit our psyche like parasites? The answer is, in a way yes. Thankfully though, whether the relationship is parasitical or symbiotic is largely in our own control. For the complex is only hostile and sabotaging to the degree that we are conceited and prejudicial towards it. In a way, they are like the mass of bacteria that inhabit our intestinal tract. Under a healthy diet, they play a vital role in digestion and even mood regulation. The inverse happens if an unhealthy diet is observed. ‘Garbage in, garbage out’ as the idiom goes. The same applies to complexes which are by no means always pathological. ‘The possession of complexes does not in itself signify neurosis, for complexes are the normal foci of psychic happenings, and the fact that they are painful is no proof of pathological disturbance’ [5]. The criteria for pathology is not the degree of pain the complex produces. Rather, it is the degree to which the patient is unaware of it, the degree to which the patient does not want to acknowledge it. ‘A complex becomes pathological only when we think we have not got it’ [5].
One of the ways complexes can be discovered is by the association experiment. Thereby, a word is called out to the test subject which reacts as quickly as possible with the first associated word that comes to mind. When observing the reaction times then one will notice that some words, even quite simple ones, are followed by a prolonged reaction time. Meanwhile, relatively difficult words may be answered far quicker. Upon closer investigation, it turns out that these prolonged reaction times occur because the given word has hit a powerfully feeling-toned psychic content. It appears that this phenomenon is related to the fact that feeling and thinking are an antinomy [6]. As a result, the eruption of affect produces a delay of cognition which can then be measured in prolonged reaction times. This marked influence on cognition is also evidenced by the fact that often lapses or falsifications of memory occur upon hitting a feeling-toned complex [2].
Another way exists to unearth a complex. Jung half-comically states that oftentimes all it takes is a sentence in a newspaper to put one’s complexes on full display. Because these complexes are mostly unconscious, they are naturally projected on outer situations. ‘Projection can be observed at work everywhere, in mental illness, in ideas of persecution and hallucinations, in so-called normal people who see the mote in their brother’s eye without seeing the beam in their own, and finally, in extreme form, in political propaganda’ [7].
As a rule, we do not notice that our own complexes are only personally and not collectively applicable. In other words, we suppose that our ‘psychic constitution is the general one and that everyone is essentially like everyone else’ [8]. This is the fundamental assumption underlying all projections of personal complexes. Because the individual in their unconsciousness cannot differentiate between themselves and others, events in outer life are analogized to events in one’s inner life. In concrete terms, a newspaper article which features some act of moral weakness tends to trigger the individual most who is ashamed of their own vulnerabilities. The subject resists the arduous task of acknowledging it in themselves and therefore the inferiority complex seeks to reach consciousness through a projection into the outer world. Newspaper articles are a convenient fit for this. On the one hand, the prerogative of the complex can be fulfilled. The psychic fact can reach consciousness by latching itself onto other people. On the other hand, the conscious mind is also appeased.
By ascribing the painful fault to outer events or other people it is kept at arm’s length and one’s own psychic situation can be conveniently avoided. Often this results in that all-too-common stalemate in which one is convinced that everything evil comes from others but never from oneself. Naturally, the inverse can equally as much be the case whereby one foists one’s own merits on others. This is particularly common in inferiority complexes. For this reason, Jung advises: ‘It is exceedingly unwise to think that other people are as stupid and inferior as one is oneself, and one should also realize the damage one does by assigning one's own good qualities to moral highwaymen’ [6].
The neurotic hereby faces an even fiercer task than the normal person does. Jung lays it out prosaically ‘Neurotics are all shore-dwellers—they are the most exposed to the dangers of the sea. So-called normal people live inland, on higher, drier ground, near placid lakes and streams. No flood however high reaches them, and the circumambient sea is so far away that they even deny its existence’ [8]. The neurotic is someone who is more exposed to the violence of the sea, to the slashing waves which threaten to pull them down under again. The same goes for projections. For normal people, distasteful projections are placed outside the ‘circle of intimate relationships’. For the neurotic however, ‘consciously or unconsciously, he has such an intensive relationship to his immediate surroundings that he cannot prevent even the unfavourable projections from flowing into the objects closest to him and arousing conflicts’ [9]. In this way, the neurotic is assigned a task that most can thankfully avoid: The task of becoming conscious of their projections.
So, what could such a complex look like? How is one to picture it? For the sake of illustration let us take the inferiority complex. This one’s likely one of the most common complexes. In a certain sense, it is even the default state in which man is set. For everyone is fallible (the precondition for redemption), fundamentally ignorant (the precondition for focus) and impermanent (the precondition for life). In this way, the inferiority complex is only an unnatural outgrowth of a characteristic everyone shares to varying degrees. It presents a compensatory exaggeration of the will to power. The will to individual life. In people with inferiority complexes this will does not find adequate expression in their conscious life. As a result, the individual begins to harbour feelings of inferiority which to the individual seemingly arise out of thin air. In the course of time then, the unconscious is left no choice but to compensate such self-devaluation with a corresponding power complex. Such a complex always exists alongside an inferiority complex since the one is the flipside of the other.
Sensitively natured individuals are hereby most susceptible according to Jung’s experience. These individuals are oftentimes well adapted to the outer world and yet they are continually plagued by inner conflicts, so Jung. Hardship that other people appear to brush off easily impacts them far more. Impressionable and fazed to a far greater degree, sensitive individuals are likely to deem themselves inferior or ‘weak’ [10]. Ultimately, these feelings have the goal of correcting one’s inadequacies and overcoming obstacles along the path of life. The feeling of inferiority ‘demands that the deficit be redressed‘. Importantly, it not only signals the need for this task but also the possibility of achieving it. ‘Whenever a sense of moral inferiority appears, it indicates not only a need to assimilate an unconscious component, but also the possibility of such assimilation’ [11]. In other words, inferiority signals an opportunity for growth. A hopeful note for anyone who feels themselves to be an 'imposter' in this world.
Unfortunately, all-too-frequently the sense of inferiority is fiercely resisted. Rather than inquire into its meaning and finality, it is avoided like the plague. The painful faults are kept concealed to others and eventually even to the individual themself. A hysterical dissociation of the personality ensues. This ‘consists essentially in one hand not knowing what the other is doing, in wanting to jump over one’s own shadow, and in looking for every thing dark, inferior, and culpable in others’ [8]. In this condition, they fancy themselves to be surrounded by ‘a crowd of submen who should be exterminated neck and crop so that the Superman can live on his high level of perfection’ [8].
Megalomania however always raises suspicion for some hidden sense of inferiority. ‘Conscious megalomania is balanced by unconscious compensatory inferiority and conscious inferiority by unconscious megalomania’, Jung muses [12]. Along these lines, the hysteric who deems themself the ‘Übermensch’ violently denies the existence of their faults and thus must project them onto others. ‘Therefore all hysterical people are compelled to torment others, because they are unwilling to hurt themselves by admitting their own inferiority’ [8].
Admitting one’s own inferiority is indeed the first step on the salutary road, Jung asserts. ‘If an inferiority is conscious, one always has a chance to correct it. Furthermore, it is constantly in contact with other interests, so that it is continually subjected to modifications’ [13]. However, facing one’s inferiority complex requires true humility and sacrifice. Oftentimes our most prized belongings are then shown in their true light. Few want to endure this pain and so the inferiority stays uncorrected. In this form, it ‘is liable to burst forth suddenly in a moment of unawareness. At all events, it forms an unconscious snag, thwarting our most well-meant intentions’ [13].
And so, this is one of the ways a complex can manifest itself. It constellates certain psychic contents, selected by their causal and final relevance. Through the affective energy of the nuclear components, it binds the secondary associations together like a tight spider’s web. In the case of the inferiority complex, when this web is somehow touched upon (through for instance a comment in conversation about one’s inferior quality) affective outbursts ensue. One is ‘triggered’, as even our modern lingo recognizes. Ultimately, these outbursts always have an enigmatic finality or purpose to them. They signal that a certain unconscious component is ripe to become conscious, so Jung.
All this likely sounds nothing short of ludicrous to the ‘enlightened’ reader of our age. But forget not that for the vast history of mankind, our worldview was shrouded in the realm of ghosts and spirits. The fact that in modern times we call these phenomena ‘complexes’ and ‘archetypes’ does not alter their psychic reality in the least. Or does it matter to the Puma if we start calling it ‘mountain lion’ instead? Does that somehow change its fundamental nature? Even the rationalist must negate this question. And so it goes with the psychic entities, the creative potentialities, we try to ensnare in the web of our scientific terminology.
Ultimately, there is no escaping the fact that from time immemorial humankind has believed in spirits. Emerging cultures from South America to Scandinavia have always made space for the supernatural in their worldview, often entirely independent from each other. Think of the rich Mayan mythology or the worship of the Nordic Gods. Seemingly, the individual but also society cannot go without accounting for these principalities. Or looking at it from another point of view, only the civilizations that had such a conceptualization survived and lived to tell the tale. Food for thought for the secular reader.
For the primitive mind in any case, it is self-evident that our world abounds with powers greater than the individual or even the tribe. It too noticed that tribe members can be beset by evil spells. Putting less emphasis on causality, the primitive mind cannot help but think that what we consider a ‘complex’ in modern times is obviously a machination of a supernatural entity. ‘The primitive mind has always felt these contents to be strange and incomprehensible and, personifying them as spirits, demons, and gods, has sought to fulfil their demands by sacred and magical rites. Recognizing correctly that this hunger or thirst can be stilled neither by food nor by drink nor by returning to the mother's womb, the primitive mind created images of invisible, jealous, and exacting beings, more potent and more dangerous than man, denizens of an invisible world, yet so interfused with visible reality that there are spirits who dwell even in the cook-ing-pots. Spirits and magic are almost the sole causes of illness among primitives’ [14].
In this way, the autonomous contents (the streams of images) are projected onto the outer world which is consequently infused with supernatural beings lurking in the background. ‘Our world, on the other hand, is freed of demons to the last trace, but the autonomous contents and their demands have remained’ [14]. Jung emphasizes that the use of medical terminology merely obscures conditions that were previously relatively well understood. For instance, ‘Three hundred years ago a woman was said to be possessed of the devil, now we say she has a hysteria. Formerly a sufferer was said to be bewitched, now the trouble is called a neurotic dyspepsia. The facts are the same; only the previous explanation, psychologically speaking, is almost exact, whereas our rationalistic description of symptoms is really without content’ [14].
The colloquial description, largely based on empirical observation, proves far more insightful than the scientific terms which take on a certain hollowness upon objectification. Our spiritual blindness in these terms only forces these autonomous contents to reach consciousness through clandestine subtle means. ‘The more the religion is rationalized and watered down—an almost unavoidable fate—the more intricate and mysterious become the ways by which the contents of the unconscious contrive to reach us. One of the commonest ways is neurosis’ [14].
Thereby, all sorts of complexes start mounting periodic assaults on the monarchy of ego-consciousness. The complex ‘behaves exactly like a goblin that is always eluding our grasp.’ It acts much like a rebellious child, resisting conformity by all means. ‘It proves its autonomous nature by not fitting into the hierarchy of the conscious mind, or by the resistance it successfully puts up against the will.’ The lower class rises up against the monarch, so to say.
For this reason ‘psychoneuroses and psychoses have from time immemorial been regarded as states of possession, since the impression forces itself upon the naive observer that the complex forms something like a shadow-government of the ego’ [15]. No matter how 'enlightened', anyone who has encountered a schizophrenic or psychotic admits to these facts. Upon closer inspection, one notices that in the process of psychosis ‘the patient is able to exert less and less influence on the course of his ideas, and in this way, to a much greater extent than in the normal, there arise separate groups of ideational complexes’ [16].
From this point onwards one lives not in peaceful Whoville anymore, but rather in the realm of Middleearth or Hogwarts or any other mythological landscape. If the situation deteriorates further, consciousness dims evermore through the mechanism of ‘abaissement di niveau mental’ and produces a certain psychic vacuum. As one may intuit, this vacuum does not stay vacant but is filled with the invasion of all sorts of fantasies (i.e. autonomous contents). The only thing these autonomous contents share in common is a personal relationship to the patient. ‘Apart from this they are not fused in any other way, and, depending on the constellation of the moment, now one and now another of these complexes will determine the course of psychic elaboration and association’ [16].
In other words, the ego-government gets supplanted by means of a psychic coup so to say. ‘Thus a gradual decay of the personality sets in; it becomes, as it were, a passive spectator of the impressions flowing in from the various internal sources of stimulation, a lifeless plaything of the excitations generated by them’ [16]. Ultimately, only the absolutely 'normal' middle-class citizen can afford to ignore these facts. They alone can go on living in Whoville. Anyone fated otherwise, however, must contend with orcs, dementors and literally anything else one can imagine.
In conclusion, to deny the existence of these entities only decapacitates the neurotic, psychotic or schizophrenic to understand what is truly happening to them. In this way, their most important tool, namely insight, is stripped from them. Instead, they are saddled with a medical diagnosis which falls far short of describing the true state of affairs. Complexes are clearly real, no awake individual can deny this. The neurotic may even go as far as to say they are hyperreal. After all, things are real to us to the degree they influence our lives. The manifestations of complexes are not rare artefacts, but a daily reality. ‘Every affect tends to become an autonomous complex, to break away from the hierarchy of consciousness and, if possible, to drag the ego after it’ [6]. In a way, complexes are then almost natural law. They operate on that foundational level out of which one emerges in childhood and likely will return to in old age.
Ultimately, as soon as the integrity of the ego crumbles, we enter the realm of the complexes once more. Autonomous entities which direct our lives for better or worse. The primitive knows this firsthand, having consolidated its ego-consciousness to a lesser degree yet. They still wander in the realm animated by spirits and ghosts. Being influenced for better or worse by these is a daily reality for them. ‘No wonder, then, that the primitive mind sees in this the activity of a strange invisible being, a spirit. Spirit in this case is the reflection of an autonomous affect, which is why the ancients, very appropriately, called the spirits imagines, 'images'’ [6].
Every neurotic is burdened by this stream of images. Whether they acknowledge it or not matters little to the autonomous contents. If denied, they just keep on running in the psychic background then. They then direct our lives unconsciously and on occasion intrude on consciousness, seemingly just as a reminder that there’s a competitor in town. In the final analysis, the choice lies with the individual: Do they want to be aware of their problems or do they not want to be aware of their problems?
References
1. Jung, C. G. (1954). The structure and dynamics of the psyche. The collected works of C. G. Jung (R. F. C. Hull (Trans.), Vol. 8). Princeton University Press. [Chapter 1: On psychic energy]
2. Jung, C. G. (1954). The development of personality. The collected works of C. G. Jung (R. F. C. Hull, Trans., Vol. 17). Princeton University Press. [Chapter 4: Analytical psychology and education]
3. Jung, C. G. (1954). The structure and dynamics of the psyche. The collected works of C. G. Jung (R. F. C. Hull (Trans.), Vol. 8). Princeton University Press. [Chapter 3: A review of the complex theory]
4. Jung, C. G. (1954). Psychology and religion: East and West. The collected works of C. G. Jung (R. F. C. Hull, Trans., Vol. 11). Princeton University Press. [Chapter 1: Psychology and religion]
5. Jung, C. G. (1954) The practice of psychotherapy: Essays on the psychology of the transference and other subjects. The collected works of C. G. Jung (R. F. C. Hull, Trans., Vol. 16). Princeton University Press. [Chapter 6: Psychotherapy and a philosophy of life]
6. Jung, C. G. (1954). The structure and dynamics of the psyche. The collected works of C. G. Jung (R. F. C. Hull (Trans.), Vol. 8). Princeton University Press. [Chapter 11: The psychological foundations of belief in spirits]
7. Jung, C. G. (1954). Civilization in transition. The collected works of C. G. Jung (R. F. C. Hull, Trans., Vol. 17). Princeton University Press. [Chapter 14: Flying saucers: A modern myth]
8. Jung, C. G. (1954). Civilization in transition. The collected works of C. G. Jung (R. F. C. Hull, Trans., Vol. 17). Princeton University Press. [Chapter 7: The meaning of psychology for modern man]
9. Jung, C. G. (1954). The structure and dynamics of the psyche. The collected works of C. G. Jung (R. F. C. Hull (Trans.), Vol. 8). Princeton University Press. [Chapter 9: General aspects of dream psychology]
10. Jung, C. G. (1933). Modern man in search of a soul. (W. S. Dell & C. F. Baynes, Trans.). Harcourt, Brace & World. [Chapter 5: Stages of Life]
11. Jung, C. G. (1953). Two Essays on analytical psychology. The collected works of C. G. Jung (R. F. C. Hull, Trans., Vol. 7). Princeton University Press. [Chapter 1: On the psychology of the unconscious]
12. Jung, C. G. (1954). The archetypes and the collective unconscious. The collected works of C. G. Jung (R. F. C. Hull, Trans., Vol. 17). Princeton University Press. [Chapter 2: Archetypes of the collective unconscious]
13. Jung, C. G. (1942). Psychology and religion: East and West. The collected works of C. G. Jung (R. F. C. Hull (Trans.), Vol. 11). Princeton University Press. [Chapter 1: A psychological approach to the dogma of the trinity]
14. Jung, C. G. (1954). The structure and dynamics of the psyche. The collected works of C. G. Jung (R. F. C. Hull (Trans.), Vol. 8). Princeton University Press. [Chapter 14: Analytical psychology and weltanschauung]
15. Jung, C. G. (1954). The practice of psychotherapy: Essays on the psychology of the transference and other subjects. The collected works of C. G. Jung (R. F. C. Hull, Trans., Vol. 16). Princeton University Press. [Chapter 7: Medicine and Psychotherapy]
16. Jung, C. G. (1954). The psychogenesis of mental disease. The collected works of C. G. Jung (R. F. C. Hull (Trans.), Vol. 3). Princeton University Press. [Chapter 1: The psychology of dementia praecox]
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