The third pillar of a neurosis is its element of regression. The possibilities for confusion are hereby myriad. The statistically versed reader promptly imagines it has to do with their linear regression function. Meanwhile, the biologically versed think it relates to certain types of genes. What does regression however mean psychologically? This chapter aims to elucidate this curious phenomenon by first explaining the process through which regression comes about and finally highlighting both its positive and negative significance.
Abaissement du niveau mental
As the name intuitively suggests, regression refers to a kind of backward development akin to a withdrawal into old patterns. Neurologically, one may imagine that throughout childhood the prefrontal cortex is gradually trained and synaptically strengthened. Initially, the young child is still entirely at the whim of their impulses and emotions. Consciousness has not yet acquired the necessary coherence to focus attention deliberately for longer periods of time for instance. ‘On the infantile level, consciousness is not a unity, being as yet uncentred by a firmly-knit ego-complex, and just flickering into life here and there wherever outer or inner events, instincts, and affects happen to call it awake’ [1].
Then, in normal development adolescence is a time in which attention, executive control and inhibition are progressively trained so that eventually a more-or-less cohesive ego identity can arise. Jung gives the useful analog of consciousness arising like an archipelago of islands that slowly emerge from the sea. As one matures then more islands rise from the sea and can incrementally be added to one’s consciousness. Along the lines of this analogy, regression amounts to something like islands that are still submerged below sea level.
At some critical juncture in development, the person felt the earth's plates press against each other. In less geological terms, they felt the tension of adolescence for instance in which sexuality, self-consciousness and responsibility clash notoriously. However, because the regressive patient did not want to endure this tension, the islands could not arise out of the sea. For such a patient the 'eros is passive like a child's; he hopes to be caught, sucked in, enveloped, and devoured. He seeks, as it were, the protecting, nourishing, charmed circle of the mother, the condition of the infant released from every care, in which the outside world bends over him and even forces happiness upon him' [5].
Looked at from another angle, these individuals engage in a certain process which brings about a ‘rising of sea level’ or its conscious equivalent, ‘a lowering of consciousness’. Pierre Janet coined the French term ‘abaissement du niveau mental’ for it, literally meaning ‘a lowering of consciousness’, which Jung adopted in his terminology. Conveniently, we have a ubiquitous reference point to understand this phenomenon, one we all are reminded of each night. Namely, the experience of the onset of sleep. For the average individual, this looks something like ‘letting go of the reins’ and eventually losing consciousness. A ‘drifting off to sleep’, a ‘falling asleep’ or a ‘sinking into sleep’. All these colloquialisms, as they so often do, point to a basic truth, as they so often do. Consciousness sinks to a lower level upon sleep.
Sleep is however not the only event that produces this abasing of consciousness. It also happens when subjected to ‘physical and mental fatigue, bodily illness, violent emotions, and shock’ [2]. Jung highlights that the abasing of consciousness alters the qualities of psychic contents. ‘They lose their definiteness and clearness, and their relations become vaguely analogous instead of rational and comprehensible. This is a phenomenon that can be observed in all dreamlike conditions, whether due to fatigue, fever, or toxins. But as soon as their tension increases, they become less subliminal, more definite, and thus more conscious.’
When the conscious mind is in lower tension it gets to see ‘the fringe of consciousness’ [3]. This designates the edge of one’s known territory, conceptually speaking. In this territory, the articulated and clearly delineated concepts of lucid life may not be applicable anymore. Rather, the only thing to be expected is the unexpected. As a result of its inherent 'indefiniteness', we perceive this fringe similarly as we perceive the periphery of our visual field. Rather than seeing clear-cut objects our perception is far more tainted by fluid transitions and images. Alternatively, imagine looking into a dark room at night. Before you know it your imagination 'fills in the blanks' with all sorts of fantastical content. This is the realm of the 'fringe of consciousness'.
One is virtually always located in between wakefulness and unconsciousness and thus always interacts with both definite concepts and vague images. Naturally, this balance oscillates throughout the day as can be clearly measured by an EEG. Five different brain waves alternate hereby in periodic fashion and regulate the alertness of consciousness. Besides cues in the moment, this wave pattern is markedly shaped by one’s personality traits and developmental influences.
Now in 'abaissement di niveau mental' the brain waves responsible for focused attention tend to diminish while lower frequency brain waves are accentuated. In other words, the abasing of consciousness introjects the energy from the outer world into the inner world. ‘The energy so lost raises the psychic potency of certain compensating contents in the unconscious' [4]. This naturally brings about a certain ‘relative reversal of values’ [5]. For instance, a sudden loss of initiative for old activities occurs, often for no apparent reason. Just as neither extroversion nor introversion is ‘better’ than the other, it is not clear yet whether such a development is healthy or pathological. While ‘abaissement’ can come from a malfunctioning of the conscious mind, it can also be due to ‘a spontaneous activation of unconscious contents’ which often happens when a new page is turned in life. Which one it is often only time can tell.
For now, 'abaissement' merely designates a change in development. ‘New interests and tendencies appear which have hitherto received no attention, or there is a sudden change of personality (a so-called mutation of character). During the incubation period of such a change, we can often observe a loss of conscious energy: the new development has drawn off the energy it needs from consciousness. This lowering of energy can be seen most clearly before the onset of certain psychoses and also in the empty stillness which precedes creative work’ [4].
In sum, ‘abaissement’ merely describes a psychic process which is neither good or bad. It is a tool through which important psychic developments can be instigated. At the same time, the tool may be used for pathological means by which the individual surrenders autonomy and response-ability, to their own detriment.
The utility of regression
Considering how prevalent regression is, it’s no wonder that the theme of psychological regression features abundantly in mythologies across cultures. It's what underlies the tremendous potency of ‘The flood’ myth for instance. Virtually all cultures discovered this myth in one shape or form, the most prominent of which is of course the story of Noah. A rising tide that threatens to drown all of civilization if sins are not repented for. Even the most avid rationalist cannot help but notice the vitality behind such an image. While the flood myth has many different layers of meaning, one aspect of it undoubtedly refers to the danger of regression whether on an individual or societal level. And yet, just as ‘abbaisement’ regression has an ambiguous character too, leading either to further development or degeneration. ‘It is only if he remains stuck in this condition that we can speak of involution or degeneration’ [6]. Hence, whether consciousness is irrigated or entirely flooded by the unconscious depends largely on the sturdiness of the ego.
On the one hand, a flood of the unconscious consists of ‘more or less violent irruptions of unconscious contents into consciousness, the ego proving itself incapable of assimilating the intruders’ [1]. As a result, the ego gets assimilated back into the unconscious, whereby its individuality gets totally dissolved in collectively. Game over, so to say. This regression produces ‘a blurring or darkening of ego-consciousness and its identification with a preconscious wholeness’ [1]. In other words, the person turns into a mere pawn that is thrown around the chessboard by collective suggestion. Importantly, this development possesses a certain ‘power of contagion’ by which it can spread like a psychic epidemic through whole communities.
For this reason, Jung also emphasized that the Second World War was driven by a wave of mass psychoses rather than having been primarily a matter of politics or economics. To be sure the latter are important factors too but rather secondary manifestations of far deeper currents of the collective unconscious. Germany hereby was merely the first nation to break under its pressure due to its unique susceptibility.
Another more recent example of this contagion phenomenon is the Rwandan genocide of 1994. A whole nation gone berserk for around 100 days, leaving over a million deaths and hundreds of thousands of rapes in its wake. Once more, of course other historical, political and economic factors played a role in the formation of the conflict between Hutu and Tutsi. Nevertheless, when viewing the footage of this disaster one cannot help but notice a certain state of possession the people were in. Immersed in a certain trance, a trance that seems to emanate from a certain collective force. The spirit of aggression, of war, of murder. Was that the driving factor?
Naturally, this is a question of whether the chicken or the egg came first. At the very least though the psychological aspect represents one side of the coin. ‘The bigger the group, the more the individuals composing it function as a collective entity, which is so powerful that it can reduce individual consciousness to the point of extinction, and it does this the more easily if the individual lacks spiritual possessions of his own with an individual stamp. The group and what belongs to it cover up the lack of genuine individuality, just as parents act as substitutes for everything lacking in their children. In this respect the group exerts a seductive influence, for nothing is easier than a perseveration of infantile ways or a return to them’ [7]. The Rwandans were swept away by collective forces, by forces of mass suggestibility. Too few of them were able to remain steadfast under this assault. Too few were able to sever the identification with the unconscious and put an end to its spell. Jung comments in one of his poetic bouts: ‘The self has a functional meaning only when it can act compensatorily to ego-consciousness. If the ego is dissolved in identification with the self, it gives rise to a sort of nebulous superman with a puffed-up ego and a deflated self. Such a personage, how ever saviourlike or baleful his demeanor, lacks the scintilla, the soul-spark, the little wisp of divine light that never burns more brightly than when it has to struggle against the invading darkness’ [1].
On the other hand, as said the unconscious contents can also revitalize the ego and lead it to further development. In most cases, this cannot be clearly foreseen however and is only evident after the fact. ‘The individual is, however, not consciously aware that he is developing; he feels himself to be in a compulsive situation that resembles an early infantile state or even an embryonic condition within the womb’ [6]. The regression hereby merely represents a transitional step.
Depression, for instance, can often highlight the necessity for a reformation of the personality through regression, according to Jung. Frequently, the depressed patient has an inkling of the true affairs below the surface. ‘The unconscious has simply gained an unassailable ascendency; it wields an attractive force that can invalidate all conscious contents—in other words, it can withdraw libido from the conscious world and thereby produce a "depression," an abaissement du niveau mental.’ Correspondingly then, this libido has accumulated in the unconscious. ‘The patient's conscious world has become cold, empty, and grey; but his unconscious is activated, powerful, and rich.’ Undoubtedly, this appears especially cruel to the depressed sufferer who yearns for the vitality of his earlier life. ‘But what robs Nature of its glamour, and life of its joy, is the habit of looking back for something that used to be outside, instead of looking inside, into the depths of the depressive state’ [8]. Regression always leads to the necessity of adapting to the inner world of the psyche [5]. ‘This can only be done by consciously regressing along with the depressive tendency and integrating the memories so activated into the conscious mind—which was what the depression was aiming at in the first place’ [8].
In this manner, one can view regression less in a morbid and more in a final view. From a Freudian point of view, regression amounts to ‘nothing but’ a mother fixation. Jung asserts this is however only one side of the coin, the causal side. Looked at from the other side, ‘from the final standpoint the libido regresses to the imago of the mother in order to find there the memory associations by means of which further development can take place, for instance from a sexual system into an intellectual or spiritual system’ [6].
Freud hereby makes the error of only considering its morbid manifestations, such as the incest fantasy, while disregarding the subtle telos of these fantasies. The reason for this is really quite simple. Freud operates on one fundamentally differing assumption. Namely, that the unconscious is merely a personal storehouse of repressed contents. Jung however realized in his practical experience that the unconscious additionally has a collective realm of primordial archetypes which underlie our finite existence. In other words, Freud went snorkeling while Jung went deep-sea diving.
Perverted infantile fantasies are thus not merely morbid but in fact hold in them the germs of further development. That is, if only the patient would dare to follow their regressive tendency and ‘see whats down there’, so to say. Jung reports from this clinical experience, ‘Incest and the other perverted sexual aspects are, in most cases, no more than by-products’ [9]. They are actually outspurts of something far deeper, they are perversions of healthy instincts. Because the patient has left this area unexplored (i.e. unconscious), they appear in an archaic, infantile and undifferentiated form. It is as if the fantasies tell the patient in this way “Watch out, here you tread on undeveloped and potentially dangerous ground”. They pull you in with their emotionality and simultaneously fend you off with their vulgarity.
Ultimately though, the fantasies carry with them the seedlings of further development, or in Jungian terms for 'individuation'. ‘The regressive tendency only means that the patient is seeking himself in his childhood memories, sometimes for better, sometimes for worse. His development was one-sided; it left important items of character and personality behind’. As a rule, these people have over the years leaned too far into one function (for instance the intellect) at the expense of the other functions. As a result, they ‘will look back to childhood when they come to the end of their particular tether, or they will hanker for some state when they were still in touch with the lost world, or their dreams will reproduce enchanting memories of a past that has sunk into oblivion’ [9].
To wrap up, lets give Jung his rightful voice: ‘To be retrospective and introspective is a pathological mistake only when it stops short at futilities like incest and other squalid fantasies, or at feelings of inferiority. Retrospection and introspection should be carried much further, because then the patient will not only discover the true reason for his childhood longings, but, going beyond himself into the sphere of the collective psyche, he will enter first into the treasure-house of collective ideas and then into creativity. In this way he will discover his identity with the whole of humanity, as it ever was, is, and ever shall be. He will add to his modest personal possessions which have proved them selves insufficient. Such acquisitions will strengthen his attitude, and this is the very reason why collective ideas have always been so important.’ Freud was unable to see this because he got stuck in his own pessimistic conception of the unconscious. ‘You get nowhere if you assume that the vital basis of man is nothing but a very personal and therefore very private affaire scandaleuse. This is utterly hopeless, and true only to the extent that a Strindbergdrama is true. But pierce the veil of that sickly illusion, and you step out of your narrow, stuffy personal corner into the wide realm of the collective psyche, into the healthy and natural matrix of the human mind, into the very soul of humanity. That is the true foundation on which we can build a new and more workable attitude’ [9].
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 7: The structure of the psyche]
2. 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]
3. Jung, C. G. (1954) Miscellany. The collected works of C. G. Jung (R. F. C. Hull, Trans., Vol. 18). Princeton University Press. [Chapter 4: The problem of types in dream interpretation]
4. 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 12: The psychology of the transference]
5. Jung, C. G. (1954). Aion. The collected works of C. G. Jung (R. F. C. Hull, Trans., Vol. 9). Princeton University Press. [Chapter 4: The Self]
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 1: On psychic energy]
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 17: Introduction to Toni Wolff’s “Studies in Jungian psychology”]
8. Jung, C. G. (1954). Two essays on analytical psychology. The collected works of C. G. Jung (R. F. C. Hull (Trans.), Vol. 8). Princeton University Press. [Chapter 1: On the psychology of the unconscious]
9. 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 3: Some aspects of modern psychotherapy]
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