#psychoanalysis — Public Fediverse posts

Human concern as the interface between realist sociology and psychoanalysis

I’m increasingly convinced that concern, things mattering to people, provides the interface between realist sociology and psychoanalysis that I’ve been looking for. Consider this from Mari Ruti’s A World of Fragile Things loc 89:

This suggests that though redemption or existential consolation in any absolute sense is an impossible aspiration, we possess enough creative ingenuity to enter into the current of our lives in rewarding ways. As a matter of fact, to the extent that the act of renouncing transcendent ideals of redemption and consolation redirects our energies from the otherworldly to the worldly, it may enable us to better discern what in our daily lives is worth our care and solicitude. This is one sense in which psychoanalysis provides us with a new understanding of the art of living.

One way to think about analysis is the working through of structural impediments to recognising what matters to you and acting in a way which affirms that concern. It’s much harder than realist sociology tends to suggest to “discern what in our daily lives is worth our care and solicitude” such that psychoanalysis can enrich our understanding of personal and social reflexivity, without betraying the notion of agency implied in those concepts.

Human concern as the interface between realist sociology and psychoanalysis

I’m increasingly convinced that concern, things mattering to people, provides the interface between realist sociology and psychoanalysis that I’ve been looking for. Consider this from Mari Ruti’s A World of Fragile Things loc 89:

This suggests that though redemption or existential consolation in any absolute sense is an impossible aspiration, we possess enough creative ingenuity to enter into the current of our lives in rewarding ways. As a matter of fact, to the extent that the act of renouncing transcendent ideals of redemption and consolation redirects our energies from the otherworldly to the worldly, it may enable us to better discern what in our daily lives is worth our care and solicitude. This is one sense in which psychoanalysis provides us with a new understanding of the art of living.

One way to think about analysis is the working through of structural impediments to recognising what matters to you and acting in a way which affirms that concern. It’s much harder than realist sociology tends to suggest to “discern what in our daily lives is worth our care and solicitude” such that psychoanalysis can enrich our understanding of personal and social reflexivity, without betraying the notion of agency implied in those concepts.

Human concern as the interface between realist sociology and psychoanalysis

I’m increasingly convinced that concern, things mattering to people, provides the interface between realist sociology and psychoanalysis that I’ve been looking for. Consider this from Mari Ruti’s A World of Fragile Things loc 89:

This suggests that though redemption or existential consolation in any absolute sense is an impossible aspiration, we possess enough creative ingenuity to enter into the current of our lives in rewarding ways. As a matter of fact, to the extent that the act of renouncing transcendent ideals of redemption and consolation redirects our energies from the otherworldly to the worldly, it may enable us to better discern what in our daily lives is worth our care and solicitude. This is one sense in which psychoanalysis provides us with a new understanding of the art of living.

One way to think about analysis is the working through of structural impediments to recognising what matters to you and acting in a way which affirms that concern. It’s much harder than realist sociology tends to suggest to “discern what in our daily lives is worth our care and solicitude” such that psychoanalysis can enrich our understanding of personal and social reflexivity, without betraying the notion of agency implied in those concepts.

Human concern as the interface between realist sociology and psychoanalysis

I’m increasingly convinced that concern, things mattering to people, provides the interface between realist sociology and psychoanalysis that I’ve been looking for. Consider this from Mari Ruti’s A World of Fragile Things loc 89:

This suggests that though redemption or existential consolation in any absolute sense is an impossible aspiration, we possess enough creative ingenuity to enter into the current of our lives in rewarding ways. As a matter of fact, to the extent that the act of renouncing transcendent ideals of redemption and consolation redirects our energies from the otherworldly to the worldly, it may enable us to better discern what in our daily lives is worth our care and solicitude. This is one sense in which psychoanalysis provides us with a new understanding of the art of living.

One way to think about analysis is the working through of structural impediments to recognising what matters to you and acting in a way which affirms that concern. It’s much harder than realist sociology tends to suggest to “discern what in our daily lives is worth our care and solicitude” such that psychoanalysis can enrich our understanding of personal and social reflexivity, without betraying the notion of agency implied in those concepts.

Human concern as the interface between realist sociology and psychoanalysis

I’m increasingly convinced that concern, things mattering to people, provides the interface between realist sociology and psychoanalysis that I’ve been looking for. Consider this from Mari Ruti’s A World of Fragile Things loc 89:

This suggests that though redemption or existential consolation in any absolute sense is an impossible aspiration, we possess enough creative ingenuity to enter into the current of our lives in rewarding ways. As a matter of fact, to the extent that the act of renouncing transcendent ideals of redemption and consolation redirects our energies from the otherworldly to the worldly, it may enable us to better discern what in our daily lives is worth our care and solicitude. This is one sense in which psychoanalysis provides us with a new understanding of the art of living.

One way to think about analysis is the working through of structural impediments to recognising what matters to you and acting in a way which affirms that concern. It’s much harder than realist sociology tends to suggest to “discern what in our daily lives is worth our care and solicitude” such that psychoanalysis can enrich our understanding of personal and social reflexivity, without betraying the notion of agency implied in those concepts.

Concepts which mediate between form and content: bringing psychoanalysis and sociology together in a realist way

Attempting to answer the question of why someone feels the ‘glow of the thing’ in the way they do has led me right back to the form/content distinction which I haven’t thought about since I was a philosophy student. The obvious answer to my question is that “we are creatures who find the glow of the thing in objects we encounter” (form) and the reasons for that are so manifold they can only be explored at the level of case history (content). There is a universal structure with a substance which is so particular that you can’t meaningfully generalise about it.

Given I was trained as a sociologist on Archer’s modes of reflexivity I find this answer deeply unsatisfying. There is a middle layer between form and content. These midrange concepts help us identify patterns in the universal structure in a manner which supports more dynamic and processual explanations of the content. The problem with the form/content distinction is that it just amalgamates a posited theoretical mechanism to a boatload of empirical content, disowning the role of theory in organising that content and offering real explanation.

I want a middle layer in my developing approach to psychoanalytical theory. In part because I want to put the sociological middle layer (Archer’s reptoire of concepts) i into dialogue with the psychoanalytical middle layer. I think there’s a distinctive approach to doing psychosocial explanation which would be opened up by this. Now I just need to figure out what exact is in the psychoanalytical middle layer. I suspect it’s going to involve a lot of Bollas but beyond that I’m really not sure at this stage how I’m going to do this. The direction of travel feels increasingly clear though.

I shared this post with Opus 4.7 and it said something extremely astute:

Mid-level theorization is harder than either universal theory or case study because it requires holding two demands in tension: enough abstraction to be theoretically generative, enough specificity to remain answerable to particular cases. The temptation in both directions is real. Toward the universal: collapsing the middle into a master theory that explains everything in general. Toward the singular: dissolving the middle into the irreducibility of each case. Archer’s modes work because she resisted both temptations, and the modes are tied to identifiable conditions of formation and have specifiable but not deterministic consequences. Your psychoanalytic middle layer will need the same discipline, and the concepts that survive are the ones that can sustain that discipline.

I feel like I’ve been trying to say this for years. If anyone has ever heard me ramble about ‘frames of reference’ this is exactly what I was trying to say.

Concepts which mediate between form and content: bringing psychoanalysis and sociology together in a realist way

Attempting to answer the question of why someone feels the ‘glow of the thing’ in the way they do has led me right back to the form/content distinction which I haven’t thought about since I was a philosophy student. The obvious answer to my question is that “we are creatures who find the glow of the thing in objects we encounter” (form) and the reasons for that are so manifold they can only be explored at the level of case history (content). There is a universal structure with a substance which is so particular that you can’t meaningfully generalise about it.

Given I was trained as a sociologist on Archer’s modes of reflexivity I find this answer deeply unsatisfying. There is a middle layer between form and content. These midrange concepts help us identify patterns in the universal structure in a manner which supports more dynamic and processual explanations of the content. The problem with the form/content distinction is that it just amalgamates a posited theoretical mechanism to a boatload of empirical content, disowning the role of theory in organising that content and offering real explanation.

I want a middle layer in my developing approach to psychoanalytical theory. In part because I want to put the sociological middle layer (Archer’s reptoire of concepts) i into dialogue with the psychoanalytical middle layer. I think there’s a distinctive approach to doing psychosocial explanation which would be opened up by this. Now I just need to figure out what exact is in the psychoanalytical middle layer. I suspect it’s going to involve a lot of Bollas but beyond that I’m really not sure at this stage how I’m going to do this. The direction of travel feels increasingly clear though.

I shared this post with Opus 4.7 and it said something extremely astute:

Mid-level theorization is harder than either universal theory or case study because it requires holding two demands in tension: enough abstraction to be theoretically generative, enough specificity to remain answerable to particular cases. The temptation in both directions is real. Toward the universal: collapsing the middle into a master theory that explains everything in general. Toward the singular: dissolving the middle into the irreducibility of each case. Archer’s modes work because she resisted both temptations, and the modes are tied to identifiable conditions of formation and have specifiable but not deterministic consequences. Your psychoanalytic middle layer will need the same discipline, and the concepts that survive are the ones that can sustain that discipline.

I feel like I’ve been trying to say this for years. If anyone has ever heard me ramble about ‘frames of reference’ this is exactly what I was trying to say.

Concepts which mediate between form and content: bringing psychoanalysis and sociology together in a realist way

Attempting to answer the question of why someone feels the ‘glow of the thing’ in the way they do has led me right back to the form/content distinction which I haven’t thought about since I was a philosophy student. The obvious answer to my question is that “we are creatures who find the glow of the thing in objects we encounter” (form) and the reasons for that are so manifold they can only be explored at the level of case history (content). There is a universal structure with a substance which is so particular that you can’t meaningfully generalise about it.

Given I was trained as a sociologist on Archer’s modes of reflexivity I find this answer deeply unsatisfying. There is a middle layer between form and content. These midrange concepts help us identify patterns in the universal structure in a manner which supports more dynamic and processual explanations of the content. The problem with the form/content distinction is that it just amalgamates a posited theoretical mechanism to a boatload of empirical content, disowning the role of theory in organising that content and offering real explanation.

I want a middle layer in my developing approach to psychoanalytical theory. In part because I want to put the sociological middle layer (Archer’s reptoire of concepts) i into dialogue with the psychoanalytical middle layer. I think there’s a distinctive approach to doing psychosocial explanation which would be opened up by this. Now I just need to figure out what exact is in the psychoanalytical middle layer. I suspect it’s going to involve a lot of Bollas but beyond that I’m really not sure at this stage how I’m going to do this. The direction of travel feels increasingly clear though.

I shared this post with Opus 4.7 and it said something extremely astute:

Mid-level theorization is harder than either universal theory or case study because it requires holding two demands in tension: enough abstraction to be theoretically generative, enough specificity to remain answerable to particular cases. The temptation in both directions is real. Toward the universal: collapsing the middle into a master theory that explains everything in general. Toward the singular: dissolving the middle into the irreducibility of each case. Archer’s modes work because she resisted both temptations, and the modes are tied to identifiable conditions of formation and have specifiable but not deterministic consequences. Your psychoanalytic middle layer will need the same discipline, and the concepts that survive are the ones that can sustain that discipline.

I feel like I’ve been trying to say this for years. If anyone has ever heard me ramble about ‘frames of reference’ this is exactly what I was trying to say.

Concepts which mediate between form and content: bringing psychoanalysis and sociology together in a realist way

Attempting to answer the question of why someone feels the ‘glow of the thing’ in the way they do has led me right back to the form/content distinction which I haven’t thought about since I was a philosophy student. The obvious answer to my question is that “we are creatures who find the glow of the thing in objects we encounter” (form) and the reasons for that are so manifold they can only be explored at the level of case history (content). There is a universal structure with a substance which is so particular that you can’t meaningfully generalise about it.

Given I was trained as a sociologist on Archer’s modes of reflexivity I find this answer deeply unsatisfying. There is a middle layer between form and content. These midrange concepts help us identify patterns in the universal structure in a manner which supports more dynamic and processual explanations of the content. The problem with the form/content distinction is that it just amalgamates a posited theoretical mechanism to a boatload of empirical content, disowning the role of theory in organising that content and offering real explanation.

I want a middle layer in my developing approach to psychoanalytical theory. In part because I want to put the sociological middle layer (Archer’s reptoire of concepts) i into dialogue with the psychoanalytical middle layer. I think there’s a distinctive approach to doing psychosocial explanation which would be opened up by this. Now I just need to figure out what exact is in the psychoanalytical middle layer. I suspect it’s going to involve a lot of Bollas but beyond that I’m really not sure at this stage how I’m going to do this. The direction of travel feels increasingly clear though.

I shared this post with Opus 4.7 and it said something extremely astute:

Mid-level theorization is harder than either universal theory or case study because it requires holding two demands in tension: enough abstraction to be theoretically generative, enough specificity to remain answerable to particular cases. The temptation in both directions is real. Toward the universal: collapsing the middle into a master theory that explains everything in general. Toward the singular: dissolving the middle into the irreducibility of each case. Archer’s modes work because she resisted both temptations, and the modes are tied to identifiable conditions of formation and have specifiable but not deterministic consequences. Your psychoanalytic middle layer will need the same discipline, and the concepts that survive are the ones that can sustain that discipline.

I feel like I’ve been trying to say this for years. If anyone has ever heard me ramble about ‘frames of reference’ this is exactly what I was trying to say.

Concepts which mediate between form and content: bringing psychoanalysis and sociology together in a realist way

Attempting to answer the question of why someone feels the ‘glow of the thing’ in the way they do has led me right back to the form/content distinction which I haven’t thought about since I was a philosophy student. The obvious answer to my question is that “we are creatures who find the glow of the thing in objects we encounter” (form) and the reasons for that are so manifold they can only be explored at the level of case history (content). There is a universal structure with a substance which is so particular that you can’t meaningfully generalise about it.

Given I was trained as a sociologist on Archer’s modes of reflexivity I find this answer deeply unsatisfying. There is a middle layer between form and content. These midrange concepts help us identify patterns in the universal structure in a manner which supports more dynamic and processual explanations of the content. The problem with the form/content distinction is that it just amalgamates a posited theoretical mechanism to a boatload of empirical content, disowning the role of theory in organising that content and offering real explanation.

I want a middle layer in my developing approach to psychoanalytical theory. In part because I want to put the sociological middle layer (Archer’s reptoire of concepts) i into dialogue with the psychoanalytical middle layer. I think there’s a distinctive approach to doing psychosocial explanation which would be opened up by this. Now I just need to figure out what exact is in the psychoanalytical middle layer. I suspect it’s going to involve a lot of Bollas but beyond that I’m really not sure at this stage how I’m going to do this. The direction of travel feels increasingly clear though.

I shared this post with Opus 4.7 and it said something extremely astute:

Mid-level theorization is harder than either universal theory or case study because it requires holding two demands in tension: enough abstraction to be theoretically generative, enough specificity to remain answerable to particular cases. The temptation in both directions is real. Toward the universal: collapsing the middle into a master theory that explains everything in general. Toward the singular: dissolving the middle into the irreducibility of each case. Archer’s modes work because she resisted both temptations, and the modes are tied to identifiable conditions of formation and have specifiable but not deterministic consequences. Your psychoanalytic middle layer will need the same discipline, and the concepts that survive are the ones that can sustain that discipline.

I feel like I’ve been trying to say this for years. If anyone has ever heard me ramble about ‘frames of reference’ this is exactly what I was trying to say.

Why do we want what we want?

Why do we want what we want? In recent years I’ve realised that critical realism lacks the theoretical resources to really answer this question. Archer’s work recovered the subject in a realist mode in order to account for how structure and agency interacted over time. But there was a sense in which concerns for her were simply given. They arise as a natural fact which constitutes the specificity of the person: ‘you are what you care about’ to use the Frankfurt line she was extremely fond of. It still leaves the question unanswered however as to why I have the particular concerns that I do.

Why do I care about these things? How did these come to be the things that matter to me? For psychoanalysis this is really a question about desire, even if concern and desire are not co-extensive. It’s about what I want and why I want it. Archer’s qualitative work positions the concerns in terms of unfolding experience within a formative context but it doesn’t account for why these specific concerns emerge. In her own term it’s not explanatory i.e. explaining why something is so rather than otherwise. The Reflexive Imperative gets closest to this in its analysis of natal contexts (viz the orientation of an adolescent towards the relational goods/evils they encounter there) but this mechanism is about biographical movement, it’s not about desire itself. It gestures towards it at points but I think it’s fair to say there’s not an explanation for it there.

For all its weaknesses there is a substantive theory of this in Lacan. Mari Ruti’s The Call of Character is by quite some way the clearest exposition of Lacan I’ve ever encountered. Even more so than Bruce Fink. Interestingly she centres Das Ding rather than objet a in accounting for desire. As she describes it on pg 47 this is the lost object of enjoyment which the trauma of socialisation leaves forever foreclosed. It is only constituted as an object by the fact that language and individuation put it forever out of our reach, retroactively constituting that infinite state as something we had which has now been lost:

Socialization shatters this illusion at least on two different levels. On a literal level, it introduces a wedge—an insurmountable obstacle—between us and the maternal body (or the body of the one who cares for us). On a more figurative level, it delivers a huge blow to our narcissistic sense of being the navel of the universe. In so doing, it divests us of our infantile fantasy of wholeness and uncomplicated belonging, generating an unquenchable longing for a state of plenitude that we imagine we have somehow been unfairly robbed of: a lost paradise we can never recover but that we spend the rest of our lives pursuing. The fact that we never possessed this paradise in the first place, that we were never completely whole and at ease to begin with, does not in the least diminish our resolve to recover it. Lacan designates this lost paradise as “the Thing,” indicating by the capital T that it is not an ordinary fantasy object, but a very special Thing of incomparable worth; it is the Thing that our deepest desires are made of

There’s a basic mechanism postulated here in which we constantly seek to find substitutes for this lost Thing. It is a psychic driver for our desire, setting it into motion as one object after another promises to resolve the diffuse sense of loss which provides the texture to our everyday engagements with the world. These ‘refound’ objects elicit our desire because of how they relate to this inarticulate sense of what has been lost. As she puts it later on pg 47:

Every “object” (every person or aspiration) we invent or discover is “refound” in the sense that it is always a substitute for the original lost Thing. We place one thing, one object, after another into the empty slot left by the Thing, and those objects that come the closest to reviving the Thing, that contain the strongest echo of the Thing’s special radiance, are the ones we feel most passionate about. However, because no object can ever fully replicate the fantasized perfection of the Thing, we are condemned to repeat our quest ad infinitum

This means there is always a gap, as Ruti puts it (pg 48), between “the Thing and the things we use to compensate for it absence”. In this gap lives the possibility for creativity and originality because the precarious glimmer of the sublime we find in them challenges us to make them into more than they really are. We find new ways of holding, narrating, representing that struggle to capture the ontological dignity we dimly perceive as lurking beneath the mundane shell. The inevitable failure of those responses, the sense in which these objects are merely partaking in a sublime forever out of reach rather than promising access to it, means that we must always try again. The iteration of excitement and disappointment, the sublime and the mundane, constitutes the rupture out of which creation emerges.

Why do we want what we want? There’s a deeper question which opens up now about why the Thing echoes for us in some objects rather than others. Ruti describes an object which “resonates on the precise frequency of our desire” (pg 50). An interesting thread of her substantive discussion concerns how this resonance might be foreclosed by failing to “allow the things of the world to disclose themselves to us according to their own distinctive rhythm” or a premature dissatisfaction with the object given that “even the most enthralling person is never merely this echo” (pg 50). Ruti comes closest to directly addressing the question on pg 51:

This is not to deny that there are objects that approximate the Thing more loyally than others. Such objects enchant us more than those where the Thing’s echo remains more subdued or diffuse; they transmit something about the Thing’s original splendor, so that when we are in their presence, we feel more elevated, more self-realized, than when we are forced to function in a universe of less venerable substitutes. It is as if, to once again borrow from Lacan, they contained something “more than” themselves, so that when we interact with them, we interact with both the objects themselves and the trace of the Thing that these objects hold.

The phenomenological mode of Lacanian theory here really works for me. This is what I’ve been struggling towards for the last few years and Ruti does it here better than I suspect I will ever be able to. But it still leaves the explanatory question unanswered. Why do some objects transmit something about the Thing’s original splendor in a way that others do not? Obviously this can be taken as an empirical question to be answered through a case history but I want to try and get more purchase on the question in the abstract. As she illustrates on pg 52 this echo is at the heart of human experience, such as when we encounter people, situations and things which we think are right but which do not move us in this way:

This specificity of desire is one of the major causes of our suffering, for more often than not, we cannot quite get what we want. It can be tricky to find the right kinds of objects, so that we can, for instance, go for long periods without a romantic relationship because we do not come across anyone who matches the frequency of our desire. Even when we interact with countless people who in principle meet all the necessary specifications of desirability, we cannot force ourselves to want any of them if they fail to emit a strong enough echo of the Thing.

I take much of the positive case of Ruti’s book to be about what Bollas calls the receptive unconscious. Ruti’s concern is how we open ourselves to the echo of the thing, including refusing the siren call of consumer capitalism which seeks to provoke our desire towards mundane objects which we don’t experience as having this dignity. This is existentially urgent and conceptually important in ways she conveys on pg 56:

People who complain about a general sense of apathy often do so because they have lost touch with the Thing’s echo; they have lost their capacity to distinguish between objects that correspond to the inimitable intonation of their desire and others that merely grant the illusion of satisfaction. One reason for this is that the vast commercial machinery of our society is explicitly designed to drown out the Thing’s echo. This machinery makes so many sparkly decoys available to us that we can get sidetracked by the huge volume of our choices. Such decoys, which press on us from all sides, obscure the Thing’s aura for the simple reason that they are deliberately manufactured to shine extra brightly. They flood us with a homogenizing blare that can induce us to accumulate the piles of useless junk I referred to earlier.

I still think the deeper question remains. How do we get from the infantile organisation of our incipient desire (“We learn to appreciate certain things: a favorite food, our mother’s touch, a comforting toy, our brother’s singing, and so on”) to being an adult who has an inner sense of what calls them which they can (fallibly) tune into through a set of practices and orientations which Ruti describes as an erotics of being? This entails a comfort with the passions evoked in being called, including those moments of rupture and renewal when we are called by something which knocks us out of our comfortable groves of repetition. From pg 72:

Equally important, when energies that have been trapped in the repetition compulsion get released, we have a huge amount of new energy available to us. This extra energy can initially feel destabilizing, but it is also exhilarating in the sense that we now have the necessary resources for activities that we might have formerly been unable to carry out. One can liken this experience to an author’s breaking a writer’s block: all of a sudden there is a deluge of energy that can be used productively rather than symptomatically; there is the possibility of growth in all kinds of directions that might have been previously unimaginable. If a passive relationship to our repetition compulsion signifies an inner deadness of sorts—a state of being helplessly wedged in our unconscious conflicts—breaking the repetition revitalizes us, ushering us into the midst of a new kind of life.

But what is the call itself? What is the echo? I think Ruti’s existential methodology is correct. It’s a gloriously lucid explanation of why I dimly cobbled together as a practical manual from Fink: you stay with the encounter and begin to recognise patterns in how energising (or otherwise) particular sorts of people and objects tend to be for you. In that energy, I take Ruti to be arguing, we are encountering something beyond. There is a shape emerging through the clouds, which we can see ever more of if only we can resolutely in the face of it, neither clutching too tightly or backing away.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n74g5mqQ2tI

But I still think it’s possible to talk about this in explanatory terms. There’s a gap between a clinical description of the factors which drive attachment behaviour and an abstract claim about the mechanism at work in attachment as such. Consider what Ruti says here on pg 96:

It denies the fact that if our desire crystallizes around a particular person with unusual force, it is because this person contains a shining sliver of sublimity (a uniquely compelling manifestation of the Thing’s echo) that makes him or her inestimably valuable to us, that explains why only this person will do and why our love for this person is nonnegotiable. In this sense, love may be one of the few things we experience that has the power to induce the sublime to materialize within the framework of daily life.

This is the sublime extruding into the lifeworld. The ontology concerns that it is extruding, the phenomenology is about how it is extruding, the therapeutics is about what that extruding means for us. But I want to address the explanatory question about why it is extruding in the way that it is. I feel like Ruti circles around this question, which to be fair is my question rather than heres, with beautiful phrase (“a uniquely compelling manifestation of the Thing’s echo”) without accounting for the character of that relationship. Interestingly Ruti shares my affection for how Christopher Bollas accounts for the relationship with the thing, which makes me think my project of integrating Bollas and Lacan is less problematic than I worried. From pg 174:

We may feel uniquely enticed by certain kinds of investments, by certain kinds of objects and activities, yet hesitate to let ourselves be “conquered” by them, striving, instead, to neutralize their summons. Unfortunately, when we do this, when we recoil from objects and activities that call upon us in such a passionate manner, we destroy their capacity to turn our day into a space for the articulation of our idiom. Similarly, when we use the various objects and activities that the world makes available to us as mere means to an end, as inert tools or resources, their magic silently slips away; when we seek to stifle their disorienting alienness, we decline the invitation to aliveness that they extend to us.

Again though this is about how we relate the objects from which we feel this call. In his own way Bollas also circles around this, positing the ‘destiny drive’ through which we seek to ‘give form to our idiom’ but not really explaining why certain objects are uniquely generative for elaborating that idiom. Like Ruti he points powerfully to examples of this generativity, with a particular focus on aesthetic objects, but the deeper explanatory question remains mysterious. I think this can be answered, even if I have no idea yet how to do it.

Why do we want what we want?

Why do we want what we want? In recent years I’ve realised that critical realism lacks the theoretical resources to really answer this question. Archer’s work recovered the subject in a realist mode in order to account for how structure and agency interacted over time. But there was a sense in which concerns for her were simply given. They arise as a natural fact which constitutes the specificity of the person: ‘you are what you care about’ to use the Frankfurt line she was extremely fond of. It still leaves the question unanswered however as to why I have the particular concerns that I do.

Why do I care about these things? How did these come to be the things that matter to me? For psychoanalysis this is really a question about desire, even if concern and desire are not co-extensive. It’s about what I want and why I want it. Archer’s qualitative work positions the concerns in terms of unfolding experience within a formative context but it doesn’t account for why these specific concerns emerge. In her own term it’s not explanatory i.e. explaining why something is so rather than otherwise. The Reflexive Imperative gets closest to this in its analysis of natal contexts (viz the orientation of an adolescent towards the relational goods/evils they encounter there) but this mechanism is about biographical movement, it’s not about desire itself. It gestures towards it at points but I think it’s fair to say there’s not an explanation for it there.

For all its weaknesses there is a substantive theory of this in Lacan. Mari Ruti’s The Call of Character is by quite some way the clearest exposition of Lacan I’ve ever encountered. Even more so than Bruce Fink. Interestingly she centres Das Ding rather than objet a in accounting for desire. As she describes it on pg 47 this is the lost object of enjoyment which the trauma of socialisation leaves forever foreclosed. It is only constituted as an object by the fact that language and individuation put it forever out of our reach, retroactively constituting that infinite state as something we had which has now been lost:

Socialization shatters this illusion at least on two different levels. On a literal level, it introduces a wedge—an insurmountable obstacle—between us and the maternal body (or the body of the one who cares for us). On a more figurative level, it delivers a huge blow to our narcissistic sense of being the navel of the universe. In so doing, it divests us of our infantile fantasy of wholeness and uncomplicated belonging, generating an unquenchable longing for a state of plenitude that we imagine we have somehow been unfairly robbed of: a lost paradise we can never recover but that we spend the rest of our lives pursuing. The fact that we never possessed this paradise in the first place, that we were never completely whole and at ease to begin with, does not in the least diminish our resolve to recover it. Lacan designates this lost paradise as “the Thing,” indicating by the capital T that it is not an ordinary fantasy object, but a very special Thing of incomparable worth; it is the Thing that our deepest desires are made of

There’s a basic mechanism postulated here in which we constantly seek to find substitutes for this lost Thing. It is a psychic driver for our desire, setting it into motion as one object after another promises to resolve the diffuse sense of loss which provides the texture to our everyday engagements with the world. These ‘refound’ objects elicit our desire because of how they relate to this inarticulate sense of what has been lost. As she puts it later on pg 47:

Every “object” (every person or aspiration) we invent or discover is “refound” in the sense that it is always a substitute for the original lost Thing. We place one thing, one object, after another into the empty slot left by the Thing, and those objects that come the closest to reviving the Thing, that contain the strongest echo of the Thing’s special radiance, are the ones we feel most passionate about. However, because no object can ever fully replicate the fantasized perfection of the Thing, we are condemned to repeat our quest ad infinitum

This means there is always a gap, as Ruti puts it (pg 48), between “the Thing and the things we use to compensate for it absence”. In this gap lives the possibility for creativity and originality because the precarious glimmer of the sublime we find in them challenges us to make them into more than they really are. We find new ways of holding, narrating, representing that struggle to capture the ontological dignity we dimly perceive as lurking beneath the mundane shell. The inevitable failure of those responses, the sense in which these objects are merely partaking in a sublime forever out of reach rather than promising access to it, means that we must always try again. The iteration of excitement and disappointment, the sublime and the mundane, constitutes the rupture out of which creation emerges.

Why do we want what we want? There’s a deeper question which opens up now about why the Thing echoes for us in some objects rather than others. Ruti describes an object which “resonates on the precise frequency of our desire” (pg 50). An interesting thread of her substantive discussion concerns how this resonance might be foreclosed by failing to “allow the things of the world to disclose themselves to us according to their own distinctive rhythm” or a premature dissatisfaction with the object given that “even the most enthralling person is never merely this echo” (pg 50). Ruti comes closest to directly addressing the question on pg 51:

This is not to deny that there are objects that approximate the Thing more loyally than others. Such objects enchant us more than those where the Thing’s echo remains more subdued or diffuse; they transmit something about the Thing’s original splendor, so that when we are in their presence, we feel more elevated, more self-realized, than when we are forced to function in a universe of less venerable substitutes. It is as if, to once again borrow from Lacan, they contained something “more than” themselves, so that when we interact with them, we interact with both the objects themselves and the trace of the Thing that these objects hold.

The phenomenological mode of Lacanian theory here really works for me. This is what I’ve been struggling towards for the last few years and Ruti does it here better than I suspect I will ever be able to. But it still leaves the explanatory question unanswered. Why do some objects transmit something about the Thing’s original splendor in a way that others do not? Obviously this can be taken as an empirical question to be answered through a case history but I want to try and get more purchase on the question in the abstract. As she illustrates on pg 52 this echo is at the heart of human experience, such as when we encounter people, situations and things which we think are right but which do not move us in this way:

This specificity of desire is one of the major causes of our suffering, for more often than not, we cannot quite get what we want. It can be tricky to find the right kinds of objects, so that we can, for instance, go for long periods without a romantic relationship because we do not come across anyone who matches the frequency of our desire. Even when we interact with countless people who in principle meet all the necessary specifications of desirability, we cannot force ourselves to want any of them if they fail to emit a strong enough echo of the Thing.

I take much of the positive case of Ruti’s book to be about what Bollas calls the receptive unconscious. Ruti’s concern is how we open ourselves to the echo of the thing, including refusing the siren call of consumer capitalism which seeks to provoke our desire towards mundane objects which we don’t experience as having this dignity. This is existentially urgent and conceptually important in ways she conveys on pg 56:

People who complain about a general sense of apathy often do so because they have lost touch with the Thing’s echo; they have lost their capacity to distinguish between objects that correspond to the inimitable intonation of their desire and others that merely grant the illusion of satisfaction. One reason for this is that the vast commercial machinery of our society is explicitly designed to drown out the Thing’s echo. This machinery makes so many sparkly decoys available to us that we can get sidetracked by the huge volume of our choices. Such decoys, which press on us from all sides, obscure the Thing’s aura for the simple reason that they are deliberately manufactured to shine extra brightly. They flood us with a homogenizing blare that can induce us to accumulate the piles of useless junk I referred to earlier.

I still think the deeper question remains. How do we get from the infantile organisation of our incipient desire (“We learn to appreciate certain things: a favorite food, our mother’s touch, a comforting toy, our brother’s singing, and so on”) to being an adult who has an inner sense of what calls them which they can (fallibly) tune into through a set of practices and orientations which Ruti describes as an erotics of being? This entails a comfort with the passions evoked in being called, including those moments of rupture and renewal when we are called by something which knocks us out of our comfortable groves of repetition. From pg 72:

Equally important, when energies that have been trapped in the repetition compulsion get released, we have a huge amount of new energy available to us. This extra energy can initially feel destabilizing, but it is also exhilarating in the sense that we now have the necessary resources for activities that we might have formerly been unable to carry out. One can liken this experience to an author’s breaking a writer’s block: all of a sudden there is a deluge of energy that can be used productively rather than symptomatically; there is the possibility of growth in all kinds of directions that might have been previously unimaginable. If a passive relationship to our repetition compulsion signifies an inner deadness of sorts—a state of being helplessly wedged in our unconscious conflicts—breaking the repetition revitalizes us, ushering us into the midst of a new kind of life.

But what is the call itself? What is the echo? I think Ruti’s existential methodology is correct. It’s a gloriously lucid explanation of why I dimly cobbled together as a practical manual from Fink: you stay with the encounter and begin to recognise patterns in how energising (or otherwise) particular sorts of people and objects tend to be for you. In that energy, I take Ruti to be arguing, we are encountering something beyond. There is a shape emerging through the clouds, which we can see ever more of if only we can resolutely in the face of it, neither clutching too tightly or backing away.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n74g5mqQ2tI

But I still think it’s possible to talk about this in explanatory terms. There’s a gap between a clinical description of the factors which drive attachment behaviour and an abstract claim about the mechanism at work in attachment as such. Consider what Ruti says here on pg 96:

It denies the fact that if our desire crystallizes around a particular person with unusual force, it is because this person contains a shining sliver of sublimity (a uniquely compelling manifestation of the Thing’s echo) that makes him or her inestimably valuable to us, that explains why only this person will do and why our love for this person is nonnegotiable. In this sense, love may be one of the few things we experience that has the power to induce the sublime to materialize within the framework of daily life.

This is the sublime extruding into the lifeworld. The ontology concerns that it is extruding, the phenomenology is about how it is extruding, the therapeutics is about what that extruding means for us. But I want to address the explanatory question about why it is extruding in the way that it is. I feel like Ruti circles around this question, which to be fair is my question rather than heres, with beautiful phrase (“a uniquely compelling manifestation of the Thing’s echo”) without accounting for the character of that relationship. Interestingly Ruti shares my affection for how Christopher Bollas accounts for the relationship with the thing, which makes me think my project of integrating Bollas and Lacan is less problematic than I worried. From pg 174:

We may feel uniquely enticed by certain kinds of investments, by certain kinds of objects and activities, yet hesitate to let ourselves be “conquered” by them, striving, instead, to neutralize their summons. Unfortunately, when we do this, when we recoil from objects and activities that call upon us in such a passionate manner, we destroy their capacity to turn our day into a space for the articulation of our idiom. Similarly, when we use the various objects and activities that the world makes available to us as mere means to an end, as inert tools or resources, their magic silently slips away; when we seek to stifle their disorienting alienness, we decline the invitation to aliveness that they extend to us.

Again though this is about how we relate the objects from which we feel this call. In his own way Bollas also circles around this, positing the ‘destiny drive’ through which we seek to ‘give form to our idiom’ but not really explaining why certain objects are uniquely generative for elaborating that idiom. Like Ruti he points powerfully to examples of this generativity, with a particular focus on aesthetic objects, but the deeper explanatory question remains mysterious. I think this can be answered, even if I have no idea yet how to do it.

Why do we want what we want?

Why do we want what we want? In recent years I’ve realised that critical realism lacks the theoretical resources to really answer this question. Archer’s work recovered the subject in a realist mode in order to account for how structure and agency interacted over time. But there was a sense in which concerns for her were simply given. They arise as a natural fact which constitutes the specificity of the person: ‘you are what you care about’ to use the Frankfurt line she was extremely fond of. It still leaves the question unanswered however as to why I have the particular concerns that I do.

Why do I care about these things? How did these come to be the things that matter to me? For psychoanalysis this is really a question about desire, even if concern and desire are not co-extensive. It’s about what I want and why I want it. Archer’s qualitative work positions the concerns in terms of unfolding experience within a formative context but it doesn’t account for why these specific concerns emerge. In her own term it’s not explanatory i.e. explaining why something is so rather than otherwise. The Reflexive Imperative gets closest to this in its analysis of natal contexts (viz the orientation of an adolescent towards the relational goods/evils they encounter there) but this mechanism is about biographical movement, it’s not about desire itself. It gestures towards it at points but I think it’s fair to say there’s not an explanation for it there.

For all its weaknesses there is a substantive theory of this in Lacan. Mari Ruti’s The Call of Character is by quite some way the clearest exposition of Lacan I’ve ever encountered. Even more so than Bruce Fink. Interestingly she centres Das Ding rather than objet a in accounting for desire. As she describes it on pg 47 this is the lost object of enjoyment which the trauma of socialisation leaves forever foreclosed. It is only constituted as an object by the fact that language and individuation put it forever out of our reach, retroactively constituting that infinite state as something we had which has now been lost:

Socialization shatters this illusion at least on two different levels. On a literal level, it introduces a wedge—an insurmountable obstacle—between us and the maternal body (or the body of the one who cares for us). On a more figurative level, it delivers a huge blow to our narcissistic sense of being the navel of the universe. In so doing, it divests us of our infantile fantasy of wholeness and uncomplicated belonging, generating an unquenchable longing for a state of plenitude that we imagine we have somehow been unfairly robbed of: a lost paradise we can never recover but that we spend the rest of our lives pursuing. The fact that we never possessed this paradise in the first place, that we were never completely whole and at ease to begin with, does not in the least diminish our resolve to recover it. Lacan designates this lost paradise as “the Thing,” indicating by the capital T that it is not an ordinary fantasy object, but a very special Thing of incomparable worth; it is the Thing that our deepest desires are made of

There’s a basic mechanism postulated here in which we constantly seek to find substitutes for this lost Thing. It is a psychic driver for our desire, setting it into motion as one object after another promises to resolve the diffuse sense of loss which provides the texture to our everyday engagements with the world. These ‘refound’ objects elicit our desire because of how they relate to this inarticulate sense of what has been lost. As she puts it later on pg 47:

Every “object” (every person or aspiration) we invent or discover is “refound” in the sense that it is always a substitute for the original lost Thing. We place one thing, one object, after another into the empty slot left by the Thing, and those objects that come the closest to reviving the Thing, that contain the strongest echo of the Thing’s special radiance, are the ones we feel most passionate about. However, because no object can ever fully replicate the fantasized perfection of the Thing, we are condemned to repeat our quest ad infinitum

This means there is always a gap, as Ruti puts it (pg 48), between “the Thing and the things we use to compensate for it absence”. In this gap lives the possibility for creativity and originality because the precarious glimmer of the sublime we find in them challenges us to make them into more than they really are. We find new ways of holding, narrating, representing that struggle to capture the ontological dignity we dimly perceive as lurking beneath the mundane shell. The inevitable failure of those responses, the sense in which these objects are merely partaking in a sublime forever out of reach rather than promising access to it, means that we must always try again. The iteration of excitement and disappointment, the sublime and the mundane, constitutes the rupture out of which creation emerges.

Why do we want what we want? There’s a deeper question which opens up now about why the Thing echoes for us in some objects rather than others. Ruti describes an object which “resonates on the precise frequency of our desire” (pg 50). An interesting thread of her substantive discussion concerns how this resonance might be foreclosed by failing to “allow the things of the world to disclose themselves to us according to their own distinctive rhythm” or a premature dissatisfaction with the object given that “even the most enthralling person is never merely this echo” (pg 50). Ruti comes closest to directly addressing the question on pg 51:

This is not to deny that there are objects that approximate the Thing more loyally than others. Such objects enchant us more than those where the Thing’s echo remains more subdued or diffuse; they transmit something about the Thing’s original splendor, so that when we are in their presence, we feel more elevated, more self-realized, than when we are forced to function in a universe of less venerable substitutes. It is as if, to once again borrow from Lacan, they contained something “more than” themselves, so that when we interact with them, we interact with both the objects themselves and the trace of the Thing that these objects hold.

The phenomenological mode of Lacanian theory here really works for me. This is what I’ve been struggling towards for the last few years and Ruti does it here better than I suspect I will ever be able to. But it still leaves the explanatory question unanswered. Why do some objects transmit something about the Thing’s original splendor in a way that others do not? Obviously this can be taken as an empirical question to be answered through a case history but I want to try and get more purchase on the question in the abstract. As she illustrates on pg 52 this echo is at the heart of human experience, such as when we encounter people, situations and things which we think are right but which do not move us in this way:

This specificity of desire is one of the major causes of our suffering, for more often than not, we cannot quite get what we want. It can be tricky to find the right kinds of objects, so that we can, for instance, go for long periods without a romantic relationship because we do not come across anyone who matches the frequency of our desire. Even when we interact with countless people who in principle meet all the necessary specifications of desirability, we cannot force ourselves to want any of them if they fail to emit a strong enough echo of the Thing.

I take much of the positive case of Ruti’s book to be about what Bollas calls the receptive unconscious. Ruti’s concern is how we open ourselves to the echo of the thing, including refusing the siren call of consumer capitalism which seeks to provoke our desire towards mundane objects which we don’t experience as having this dignity. This is existentially urgent and conceptually important in ways she conveys on pg 56:

People who complain about a general sense of apathy often do so because they have lost touch with the Thing’s echo; they have lost their capacity to distinguish between objects that correspond to the inimitable intonation of their desire and others that merely grant the illusion of satisfaction. One reason for this is that the vast commercial machinery of our society is explicitly designed to drown out the Thing’s echo. This machinery makes so many sparkly decoys available to us that we can get sidetracked by the huge volume of our choices. Such decoys, which press on us from all sides, obscure the Thing’s aura for the simple reason that they are deliberately manufactured to shine extra brightly. They flood us with a homogenizing blare that can induce us to accumulate the piles of useless junk I referred to earlier.

I still think the deeper question remains. How do we get from the infantile organisation of our incipient desire (“We learn to appreciate certain things: a favorite food, our mother’s touch, a comforting toy, our brother’s singing, and so on”) to being an adult who has an inner sense of what calls them which they can (fallibly) tune into through a set of practices and orientations which Ruti describes as an erotics of being? This entails a comfort with the passions evoked in being called, including those moments of rupture and renewal when we are called by something which knocks us out of our comfortable groves of repetition. From pg 72:

Equally important, when energies that have been trapped in the repetition compulsion get released, we have a huge amount of new energy available to us. This extra energy can initially feel destabilizing, but it is also exhilarating in the sense that we now have the necessary resources for activities that we might have formerly been unable to carry out. One can liken this experience to an author’s breaking a writer’s block: all of a sudden there is a deluge of energy that can be used productively rather than symptomatically; there is the possibility of growth in all kinds of directions that might have been previously unimaginable. If a passive relationship to our repetition compulsion signifies an inner deadness of sorts—a state of being helplessly wedged in our unconscious conflicts—breaking the repetition revitalizes us, ushering us into the midst of a new kind of life.

But what is the call itself? What is the echo? I think Ruti’s existential methodology is correct. It’s a gloriously lucid explanation of why I dimly cobbled together as a practical manual from Fink: you stay with the encounter and begin to recognise patterns in how energising (or otherwise) particular sorts of people and objects tend to be for you. In that energy, I take Ruti to be arguing, we are encountering something beyond. There is a shape emerging through the clouds, which we can see ever more of if only we can resolutely in the face of it, neither clutching too tightly or backing away.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n74g5mqQ2tI

But I still think it’s possible to talk about this in explanatory terms. There’s a gap between a clinical description of the factors which drive attachment behaviour and an abstract claim about the mechanism at work in attachment as such. Consider what Ruti says here on pg 96:

It denies the fact that if our desire crystallizes around a particular person with unusual force, it is because this person contains a shining sliver of sublimity (a uniquely compelling manifestation of the Thing’s echo) that makes him or her inestimably valuable to us, that explains why only this person will do and why our love for this person is nonnegotiable. In this sense, love may be one of the few things we experience that has the power to induce the sublime to materialize within the framework of daily life.

This is the sublime extruding into the lifeworld. The ontology concerns that it is extruding, the phenomenology is about how it is extruding, the therapeutics is about what that extruding means for us. But I want to address the explanatory question about why it is extruding in the way that it is. I feel like Ruti circles around this question, which to be fair is my question rather than heres, with beautiful phrase (“a uniquely compelling manifestation of the Thing’s echo”) without accounting for the character of that relationship. Interestingly Ruti shares my affection for how Christopher Bollas accounts for the relationship with the thing, which makes me think my project of integrating Bollas and Lacan is less problematic than I worried. From pg 174:

We may feel uniquely enticed by certain kinds of investments, by certain kinds of objects and activities, yet hesitate to let ourselves be “conquered” by them, striving, instead, to neutralize their summons. Unfortunately, when we do this, when we recoil from objects and activities that call upon us in such a passionate manner, we destroy their capacity to turn our day into a space for the articulation of our idiom. Similarly, when we use the various objects and activities that the world makes available to us as mere means to an end, as inert tools or resources, their magic silently slips away; when we seek to stifle their disorienting alienness, we decline the invitation to aliveness that they extend to us.

Again though this is about how we relate the objects from which we feel this call. In his own way Bollas also circles around this, positing the ‘destiny drive’ through which we seek to ‘give form to our idiom’ but not really explaining why certain objects are uniquely generative for elaborating that idiom. Like Ruti he points powerfully to examples of this generativity, with a particular focus on aesthetic objects, but the deeper explanatory question remains mysterious. I think this can be answered, even if I have no idea yet how to do it.

Why do we want what we want?

Why do we want what we want? In recent years I’ve realised that critical realism lacks the theoretical resources to really answer this question. Archer’s work recovered the subject in a realist mode in order to account for how structure and agency interacted over time. But there was a sense in which concerns for her were simply given. They arise as a natural fact which constitutes the specificity of the person: ‘you are what you care about’ to use the Frankfurt line she was extremely fond of. It still leaves the question unanswered however as to why I have the particular concerns that I do.

Why do I care about these things? How did these come to be the things that matter to me? For psychoanalysis this is really a question about desire, even if concern and desire are not co-extensive. It’s about what I want and why I want it. Archer’s qualitative work positions the concerns in terms of unfolding experience within a formative context but it doesn’t account for why these specific concerns emerge. In her own term it’s not explanatory i.e. explaining why something is so rather than otherwise. The Reflexive Imperative gets closest to this in its analysis of natal contexts (viz the orientation of an adolescent towards the relational goods/evils they encounter there) but this mechanism is about biographical movement, it’s not about desire itself. It gestures towards it at points but I think it’s fair to say there’s not an explanation for it there.

For all its weaknesses there is a substantive theory of this in Lacan. Mari Ruti’s The Call of Character is by quite some way the clearest exposition of Lacan I’ve ever encountered. Even more so than Bruce Fink. Interestingly she centres Das Ding rather than objet a in accounting for desire. As she describes it on pg 47 this is the lost object of enjoyment which the trauma of socialisation leaves forever foreclosed. It is only constituted as an object by the fact that language and individuation put it forever out of our reach, retroactively constituting that infinite state as something we had which has now been lost:

Socialization shatters this illusion at least on two different levels. On a literal level, it introduces a wedge—an insurmountable obstacle—between us and the maternal body (or the body of the one who cares for us). On a more figurative level, it delivers a huge blow to our narcissistic sense of being the navel of the universe. In so doing, it divests us of our infantile fantasy of wholeness and uncomplicated belonging, generating an unquenchable longing for a state of plenitude that we imagine we have somehow been unfairly robbed of: a lost paradise we can never recover but that we spend the rest of our lives pursuing. The fact that we never possessed this paradise in the first place, that we were never completely whole and at ease to begin with, does not in the least diminish our resolve to recover it. Lacan designates this lost paradise as “the Thing,” indicating by the capital T that it is not an ordinary fantasy object, but a very special Thing of incomparable worth; it is the Thing that our deepest desires are made of

There’s a basic mechanism postulated here in which we constantly seek to find substitutes for this lost Thing. It is a psychic driver for our desire, setting it into motion as one object after another promises to resolve the diffuse sense of loss which provides the texture to our everyday engagements with the world. These ‘refound’ objects elicit our desire because of how they relate to this inarticulate sense of what has been lost. As she puts it later on pg 47:

Every “object” (every person or aspiration) we invent or discover is “refound” in the sense that it is always a substitute for the original lost Thing. We place one thing, one object, after another into the empty slot left by the Thing, and those objects that come the closest to reviving the Thing, that contain the strongest echo of the Thing’s special radiance, are the ones we feel most passionate about. However, because no object can ever fully replicate the fantasized perfection of the Thing, we are condemned to repeat our quest ad infinitum

This means there is always a gap, as Ruti puts it (pg 48), between “the Thing and the things we use to compensate for it absence”. In this gap lives the possibility for creativity and originality because the precarious glimmer of the sublime we find in them challenges us to make them into more than they really are. We find new ways of holding, narrating, representing that struggle to capture the ontological dignity we dimly perceive as lurking beneath the mundane shell. The inevitable failure of those responses, the sense in which these objects are merely partaking in a sublime forever out of reach rather than promising access to it, means that we must always try again. The iteration of excitement and disappointment, the sublime and the mundane, constitutes the rupture out of which creation emerges.

Why do we want what we want? There’s a deeper question which opens up now about why the Thing echoes for us in some objects rather than others. Ruti describes an object which “resonates on the precise frequency of our desire” (pg 50). An interesting thread of her substantive discussion concerns how this resonance might be foreclosed by failing to “allow the things of the world to disclose themselves to us according to their own distinctive rhythm” or a premature dissatisfaction with the object given that “even the most enthralling person is never merely this echo” (pg 50). Ruti comes closest to directly addressing the question on pg 51:

This is not to deny that there are objects that approximate the Thing more loyally than others. Such objects enchant us more than those where the Thing’s echo remains more subdued or diffuse; they transmit something about the Thing’s original splendor, so that when we are in their presence, we feel more elevated, more self-realized, than when we are forced to function in a universe of less venerable substitutes. It is as if, to once again borrow from Lacan, they contained something “more than” themselves, so that when we interact with them, we interact with both the objects themselves and the trace of the Thing that these objects hold.

The phenomenological mode of Lacanian theory here really works for me. This is what I’ve been struggling towards for the last few years and Ruti does it here better than I suspect I will ever be able to. But it still leaves the explanatory question unanswered. Why do some objects transmit something about the Thing’s original splendor in a way that others do not? Obviously this can be taken as an empirical question to be answered through a case history but I want to try and get more purchase on the question in the abstract. As she illustrates on pg 52 this echo is at the heart of human experience, such as when we encounter people, situations and things which we think are right but which do not move us in this way:

This specificity of desire is one of the major causes of our suffering, for more often than not, we cannot quite get what we want. It can be tricky to find the right kinds of objects, so that we can, for instance, go for long periods without a romantic relationship because we do not come across anyone who matches the frequency of our desire. Even when we interact with countless people who in principle meet all the necessary specifications of desirability, we cannot force ourselves to want any of them if they fail to emit a strong enough echo of the Thing.

I take much of the positive case of Ruti’s book to be about what Bollas calls the receptive unconscious. Ruti’s concern is how we open ourselves to the echo of the thing, including refusing the siren call of consumer capitalism which seeks to provoke our desire towards mundane objects which we don’t experience as having this dignity. This is existentially urgent and conceptually important in ways she conveys on pg 56:

People who complain about a general sense of apathy often do so because they have lost touch with the Thing’s echo; they have lost their capacity to distinguish between objects that correspond to the inimitable intonation of their desire and others that merely grant the illusion of satisfaction. One reason for this is that the vast commercial machinery of our society is explicitly designed to drown out the Thing’s echo. This machinery makes so many sparkly decoys available to us that we can get sidetracked by the huge volume of our choices. Such decoys, which press on us from all sides, obscure the Thing’s aura for the simple reason that they are deliberately manufactured to shine extra brightly. They flood us with a homogenizing blare that can induce us to accumulate the piles of useless junk I referred to earlier.

I still think the deeper question remains. How do we get from the infantile organisation of our incipient desire (“We learn to appreciate certain things: a favorite food, our mother’s touch, a comforting toy, our brother’s singing, and so on”) to being an adult who has an inner sense of what calls them which they can (fallibly) tune into through a set of practices and orientations which Ruti describes as an erotics of being? This entails a comfort with the passions evoked in being called, including those moments of rupture and renewal when we are called by something which knocks us out of our comfortable groves of repetition. From pg 72:

Equally important, when energies that have been trapped in the repetition compulsion get released, we have a huge amount of new energy available to us. This extra energy can initially feel destabilizing, but it is also exhilarating in the sense that we now have the necessary resources for activities that we might have formerly been unable to carry out. One can liken this experience to an author’s breaking a writer’s block: all of a sudden there is a deluge of energy that can be used productively rather than symptomatically; there is the possibility of growth in all kinds of directions that might have been previously unimaginable. If a passive relationship to our repetition compulsion signifies an inner deadness of sorts—a state of being helplessly wedged in our unconscious conflicts—breaking the repetition revitalizes us, ushering us into the midst of a new kind of life.

But what is the call itself? What is the echo? I think Ruti’s existential methodology is correct. It’s a gloriously lucid explanation of why I dimly cobbled together as a practical manual from Fink: you stay with the encounter and begin to recognise patterns in how energising (or otherwise) particular sorts of people and objects tend to be for you. In that energy, I take Ruti to be arguing, we are encountering something beyond. There is a shape emerging through the clouds, which we can see ever more of if only we can resolutely in the face of it, neither clutching too tightly or backing away.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n74g5mqQ2tI

But I still think it’s possible to talk about this in explanatory terms. There’s a gap between a clinical description of the factors which drive attachment behaviour and an abstract claim about the mechanism at work in attachment as such. Consider what Ruti says here on pg 96:

It denies the fact that if our desire crystallizes around a particular person with unusual force, it is because this person contains a shining sliver of sublimity (a uniquely compelling manifestation of the Thing’s echo) that makes him or her inestimably valuable to us, that explains why only this person will do and why our love for this person is nonnegotiable. In this sense, love may be one of the few things we experience that has the power to induce the sublime to materialize within the framework of daily life.

This is the sublime extruding into the lifeworld. The ontology concerns that it is extruding, the phenomenology is about how it is extruding, the therapeutics is about what that extruding means for us. But I want to address the explanatory question about why it is extruding in the way that it is. I feel like Ruti circles around this question, which to be fair is my question rather than heres, with beautiful phrase (“a uniquely compelling manifestation of the Thing’s echo”) without accounting for the character of that relationship. Interestingly Ruti shares my affection for how Christopher Bollas accounts for the relationship with the thing, which makes me think my project of integrating Bollas and Lacan is less problematic than I worried. From pg 174:

We may feel uniquely enticed by certain kinds of investments, by certain kinds of objects and activities, yet hesitate to let ourselves be “conquered” by them, striving, instead, to neutralize their summons. Unfortunately, when we do this, when we recoil from objects and activities that call upon us in such a passionate manner, we destroy their capacity to turn our day into a space for the articulation of our idiom. Similarly, when we use the various objects and activities that the world makes available to us as mere means to an end, as inert tools or resources, their magic silently slips away; when we seek to stifle their disorienting alienness, we decline the invitation to aliveness that they extend to us.

Again though this is about how we relate the objects from which we feel this call. In his own way Bollas also circles around this, positing the ‘destiny drive’ through which we seek to ‘give form to our idiom’ but not really explaining why certain objects are uniquely generative for elaborating that idiom. Like Ruti he points powerfully to examples of this generativity, with a particular focus on aesthetic objects, but the deeper explanatory question remains mysterious. I think this can be answered, even if I have no idea yet how to do it.

Why do we want what we want?

Why do we want what we want? In recent years I’ve realised that critical realism lacks the theoretical resources to really answer this question. Archer’s work recovered the subject in a realist mode in order to account for how structure and agency interacted over time. But there was a sense in which concerns for her were simply given. They arise as a natural fact which constitutes the specificity of the person: ‘you are what you care about’ to use the Frankfurt line she was extremely fond of. It still leaves the question unanswered however as to why I have the particular concerns that I do.

Why do I care about these things? How did these come to be the things that matter to me? For psychoanalysis this is really a question about desire, even if concern and desire are not co-extensive. It’s about what I want and why I want it. Archer’s qualitative work positions the concerns in terms of unfolding experience within a formative context but it doesn’t account for why these specific concerns emerge. In her own term it’s not explanatory i.e. explaining why something is so rather than otherwise. The Reflexive Imperative gets closest to this in its analysis of natal contexts (viz the orientation of an adolescent towards the relational goods/evils they encounter there) but this mechanism is about biographical movement, it’s not about desire itself. It gestures towards it at points but I think it’s fair to say there’s not an explanation for it there.

For all its weaknesses there is a substantive theory of this in Lacan. Mari Ruti’s The Call of Character is by quite some way the clearest exposition of Lacan I’ve ever encountered. Even more so than Bruce Fink. Interestingly she centres Das Ding rather than objet a in accounting for desire. As she describes it on pg 47 this is the lost object of enjoyment which the trauma of socialisation leaves forever foreclosed. It is only constituted as an object by the fact that language and individuation put it forever out of our reach, retroactively constituting that infinite state as something we had which has now been lost:

Socialization shatters this illusion at least on two different levels. On a literal level, it introduces a wedge—an insurmountable obstacle—between us and the maternal body (or the body of the one who cares for us). On a more figurative level, it delivers a huge blow to our narcissistic sense of being the navel of the universe. In so doing, it divests us of our infantile fantasy of wholeness and uncomplicated belonging, generating an unquenchable longing for a state of plenitude that we imagine we have somehow been unfairly robbed of: a lost paradise we can never recover but that we spend the rest of our lives pursuing. The fact that we never possessed this paradise in the first place, that we were never completely whole and at ease to begin with, does not in the least diminish our resolve to recover it. Lacan designates this lost paradise as “the Thing,” indicating by the capital T that it is not an ordinary fantasy object, but a very special Thing of incomparable worth; it is the Thing that our deepest desires are made of

There’s a basic mechanism postulated here in which we constantly seek to find substitutes for this lost Thing. It is a psychic driver for our desire, setting it into motion as one object after another promises to resolve the diffuse sense of loss which provides the texture to our everyday engagements with the world. These ‘refound’ objects elicit our desire because of how they relate to this inarticulate sense of what has been lost. As she puts it later on pg 47:

Every “object” (every person or aspiration) we invent or discover is “refound” in the sense that it is always a substitute for the original lost Thing. We place one thing, one object, after another into the empty slot left by the Thing, and those objects that come the closest to reviving the Thing, that contain the strongest echo of the Thing’s special radiance, are the ones we feel most passionate about. However, because no object can ever fully replicate the fantasized perfection of the Thing, we are condemned to repeat our quest ad infinitum

This means there is always a gap, as Ruti puts it (pg 48), between “the Thing and the things we use to compensate for it absence”. In this gap lives the possibility for creativity and originality because the precarious glimmer of the sublime we find in them challenges us to make them into more than they really are. We find new ways of holding, narrating, representing that struggle to capture the ontological dignity we dimly perceive as lurking beneath the mundane shell. The inevitable failure of those responses, the sense in which these objects are merely partaking in a sublime forever out of reach rather than promising access to it, means that we must always try again. The iteration of excitement and disappointment, the sublime and the mundane, constitutes the rupture out of which creation emerges.

Why do we want what we want? There’s a deeper question which opens up now about why the Thing echoes for us in some objects rather than others. Ruti describes an object which “resonates on the precise frequency of our desire” (pg 50). An interesting thread of her substantive discussion concerns how this resonance might be foreclosed by failing to “allow the things of the world to disclose themselves to us according to their own distinctive rhythm” or a premature dissatisfaction with the object given that “even the most enthralling person is never merely this echo” (pg 50). Ruti comes closest to directly addressing the question on pg 51:

This is not to deny that there are objects that approximate the Thing more loyally than others. Such objects enchant us more than those where the Thing’s echo remains more subdued or diffuse; they transmit something about the Thing’s original splendor, so that when we are in their presence, we feel more elevated, more self-realized, than when we are forced to function in a universe of less venerable substitutes. It is as if, to once again borrow from Lacan, they contained something “more than” themselves, so that when we interact with them, we interact with both the objects themselves and the trace of the Thing that these objects hold.

The phenomenological mode of Lacanian theory here really works for me. This is what I’ve been struggling towards for the last few years and Ruti does it here better than I suspect I will ever be able to. But it still leaves the explanatory question unanswered. Why do some objects transmit something about the Thing’s original splendor in a way that others do not? Obviously this can be taken as an empirical question to be answered through a case history but I want to try and get more purchase on the question in the abstract. As she illustrates on pg 52 this echo is at the heart of human experience, such as when we encounter people, situations and things which we think are right but which do not move us in this way:

This specificity of desire is one of the major causes of our suffering, for more often than not, we cannot quite get what we want. It can be tricky to find the right kinds of objects, so that we can, for instance, go for long periods without a romantic relationship because we do not come across anyone who matches the frequency of our desire. Even when we interact with countless people who in principle meet all the necessary specifications of desirability, we cannot force ourselves to want any of them if they fail to emit a strong enough echo of the Thing.

I take much of the positive case of Ruti’s book to be about what Bollas calls the receptive unconscious. Ruti’s concern is how we open ourselves to the echo of the thing, including refusing the siren call of consumer capitalism which seeks to provoke our desire towards mundane objects which we don’t experience as having this dignity. This is existentially urgent and conceptually important in ways she conveys on pg 56:

People who complain about a general sense of apathy often do so because they have lost touch with the Thing’s echo; they have lost their capacity to distinguish between objects that correspond to the inimitable intonation of their desire and others that merely grant the illusion of satisfaction. One reason for this is that the vast commercial machinery of our society is explicitly designed to drown out the Thing’s echo. This machinery makes so many sparkly decoys available to us that we can get sidetracked by the huge volume of our choices. Such decoys, which press on us from all sides, obscure the Thing’s aura for the simple reason that they are deliberately manufactured to shine extra brightly. They flood us with a homogenizing blare that can induce us to accumulate the piles of useless junk I referred to earlier.

I still think the deeper question remains. How do we get from the infantile organisation of our incipient desire (“We learn to appreciate certain things: a favorite food, our mother’s touch, a comforting toy, our brother’s singing, and so on”) to being an adult who has an inner sense of what calls them which they can (fallibly) tune into through a set of practices and orientations which Ruti describes as an erotics of being? This entails a comfort with the passions evoked in being called, including those moments of rupture and renewal when we are called by something which knocks us out of our comfortable groves of repetition. From pg 72:

Equally important, when energies that have been trapped in the repetition compulsion get released, we have a huge amount of new energy available to us. This extra energy can initially feel destabilizing, but it is also exhilarating in the sense that we now have the necessary resources for activities that we might have formerly been unable to carry out. One can liken this experience to an author’s breaking a writer’s block: all of a sudden there is a deluge of energy that can be used productively rather than symptomatically; there is the possibility of growth in all kinds of directions that might have been previously unimaginable. If a passive relationship to our repetition compulsion signifies an inner deadness of sorts—a state of being helplessly wedged in our unconscious conflicts—breaking the repetition revitalizes us, ushering us into the midst of a new kind of life.

But what is the call itself? What is the echo? I think Ruti’s existential methodology is correct. It’s a gloriously lucid explanation of why I dimly cobbled together as a practical manual from Fink: you stay with the encounter and begin to recognise patterns in how energising (or otherwise) particular sorts of people and objects tend to be for you. In that energy, I take Ruti to be arguing, we are encountering something beyond. There is a shape emerging through the clouds, which we can see ever more of if only we can resolutely in the face of it, neither clutching too tightly or backing away.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n74g5mqQ2tI

But I still think it’s possible to talk about this in explanatory terms. There’s a gap between a clinical description of the factors which drive attachment behaviour and an abstract claim about the mechanism at work in attachment as such. Consider what Ruti says here on pg 96:

It denies the fact that if our desire crystallizes around a particular person with unusual force, it is because this person contains a shining sliver of sublimity (a uniquely compelling manifestation of the Thing’s echo) that makes him or her inestimably valuable to us, that explains why only this person will do and why our love for this person is nonnegotiable. In this sense, love may be one of the few things we experience that has the power to induce the sublime to materialize within the framework of daily life.

This is the sublime extruding into the lifeworld. The ontology concerns that it is extruding, the phenomenology is about how it is extruding, the therapeutics is about what that extruding means for us. But I want to address the explanatory question about why it is extruding in the way that it is. I feel like Ruti circles around this question, which to be fair is my question rather than heres, with beautiful phrase (“a uniquely compelling manifestation of the Thing’s echo”) without accounting for the character of that relationship. Interestingly Ruti shares my affection for how Christopher Bollas accounts for the relationship with the thing, which makes me think my project of integrating Bollas and Lacan is less problematic than I worried. From pg 174:

We may feel uniquely enticed by certain kinds of investments, by certain kinds of objects and activities, yet hesitate to let ourselves be “conquered” by them, striving, instead, to neutralize their summons. Unfortunately, when we do this, when we recoil from objects and activities that call upon us in such a passionate manner, we destroy their capacity to turn our day into a space for the articulation of our idiom. Similarly, when we use the various objects and activities that the world makes available to us as mere means to an end, as inert tools or resources, their magic silently slips away; when we seek to stifle their disorienting alienness, we decline the invitation to aliveness that they extend to us.

Again though this is about how we relate the objects from which we feel this call. In his own way Bollas also circles around this, positing the ‘destiny drive’ through which we seek to ‘give form to our idiom’ but not really explaining why certain objects are uniquely generative for elaborating that idiom. Like Ruti he points powerfully to examples of this generativity, with a particular focus on aesthetic objects, but the deeper explanatory question remains mysterious. I think this can be answered, even if I have no idea yet how to do it.

"The lie is the inclusion of the symbolic in the real..." by Florencia Shanahan, Lacanian psychoanalyst. Maybe of interest: @[email protected] @[email protected] nlscongress2026.amp-nls.org/en/fake-and-... #Lacan #psychoanalysis

Truth, Otherness and Social Bo...

"The lie is the inclusion of the symbolic in the real..." by Florencia Shanahan, Lacanian psychoanalyst. Maybe of interest: @[email protected] @[email protected] nlscongress2026.amp-nls.org/en/fake-and-... #Lacan #psychoanalysis

Truth, Otherness and Social Bo...

“Meaning holds because something is barred. #AI offers a different kind of substitution: it answers and organises, giving the appearance of inexhaustible coherence. Rather than limiting jouissance, it may intensify its circuits...” #Lacan #psychoanalysis nlscongress2026.amp-nls.org/en/knowledge...

Verity and the Unbarred AI Oth...

“Meaning holds because something is barred. #AI offers a different kind of substitution: it answers and organises, giving the appearance of inexhaustible coherence. Rather than limiting jouissance, it may intensify its circuits...” #Lacan #psychoanalysis nlscongress2026.amp-nls.org/en/knowledge...

Verity and the Unbarred AI Oth...

A narrow swath of deep #psychology and #psychoanalysis on a #bookshelf - chronicling it now, as once again all is at risk of #SpringCleaning

Seen/posted while awaiting a national address by a poster child for #delusion, #psychopathology, #megalomania, #BrainSpurs, #projection & #denial.

"Les psychanalystes sont les savants d'un savoir dont ils ne peuvent s'entretenir" JAM #Lacan #psychoanalysis

"In the #Lacan /ian orientation an analysis is not a therapy, it is a technique to produce a de-Otherization of the speaking being, and to awaken from the disease that the unconscious is." Véronique Voruz. The end of analysis #psychoanalysis

There’s one Lacan reference in this Trump-text and it’s on “feigning” which is, however, taken out of context. #Lacan talked about how animals lay false tracks, but can’t “feign feigning”. He did not speak about humans and so I guess the author read Žižek or Derrida,who do, not Lacan #psychoanalysis

RE: https://bsky.app/profile/did:plc:e6miooz2itlg2gsmr5lkxdkt/post/3mg4dt4365s2t

Every now and then I get #Lacan posts in my feed - and they crack me up because they might as well be about #psychoanalysis 😃

RE: https://bsky.app/profile/did:plc:zo2clx3ha35kerrdzjzgm5fo/post/3mfabxxqekc2m

Every now and then I get #Lacan posts in my feet - and thy crack me up because they might as well be about #psychoanalysis 😃

RE: https://bsky.app/profile/did:plc:zo2clx3ha35kerrdzjzgm5fo/post/3mfabxxqekc2m

Althusser summarising #Lacan |s symbolic order from the perspective of the infant, bound by the uninevitable #law much rather than biology. #psychoanalysis

“..a science is only a science if it can claim a right to an object of its own - an object that is its own and its own only - not a mere foothold in an object loaned, conceded or abandoned by another science…” Althusser on #psychoanalysis (in: #Freud and #Lacan, 1969)

In my latest article, I explore how monotropism creates a vertical temporality. This concept bridges quantum physics and Jung's Spirit of the Depths. It represents a form of existence that functions elsewhere, far from the logic of the clock.
Read the full piece here: https://medium.com/@christian.gajewski/when-time-flows-elsewhere-autistic-life-between-quantum-and-hyperfocus-b66e7c8f946e

#AuDHD #Neurodiversity #Monotropism #Autism #actuallyautistic #Psychology #psychoanalysis

1/2

For serious #psychology / #psychotherapy students/practitioners...

http://www.fenichel.com/elders.shtml

I just re-read this report I wrote, 20 years ago, on a panel of some of the most influential people in #psychoanalysis & #BehaviorTherapy

I recalled this during a discussion on words - being concise vs. verbose, anecdotal vs. "parsimonious".

Looking back, this shaped my life, from dissertation ("Person-therapy Fit") to my own mantra: #ContextAndPerspective

Plus a prediction! (See Below)

Samuel Beckett on the Couch

https://web.brid.gy/r/https://www.newyorker.com/books/under-review/samuel-beckett-on-the-couch

Samuel Beckett on the Couch

https://web.brid.gy/r/https://www.newyorker.com/books/under-review/samuel-beckett-on-the-couch

Samuel Beckett on the Couch

https://web.brid.gy/r/https://www.newyorker.com/books/under-review/samuel-beckett-on-the-couch

Samuel Beckett on the Couch

https://fed.brid.gy/r/https://www.newyorker.com/books/under-review/samuel-beckett-on-the-couch

Samuel Beckett on the Couch

https://web.brid.gy/r/https://www.newyorker.com/books/under-review/samuel-beckett-on-the-couch

The envelope, please. And the winning caption is . . .

My Entry in The New Yorker Cartoon Caption Contest #966 attemptedbloggery.blogspot.com/2025/11/my-ent… #BenjaminSchwartz #Psychoanalysis #Cheerleader #TheNewYorker #Cartoon #CaptionContest

100+ shadow work questions to ignite self-discovery https://innermasteryhub.com/shadow-work-questions/ #selfdiscovery #midlifecrisis #selfgrowth #emotionalhealing #spiritualhealing

#meditation #mindfulness #stress #wellbeing #fitness #yoga #pilates #mind #psicologia #psychoanalysis #psychoanalytic #PTSD #anxiety #anxietyrecovery #emotionalhealth #brainscience #mentalhealth #MentalHealthAwareness #saludmental #archaeology #linguistics #digitalhumanities #DH #humanities #literature #philosopy #languages #culturalstudies #museums

A sketch of the psychodynamics of LLMs

In their Group Therapy: A Group-Analytic Approach Nick Barwick and Martin Weegmann write about the holding environment provided by the psychotherapist who is “preoccupied with the patient and placing himself at his service, being reliably present, making an effort to understand, refraining from imposing his own needs/agenda, expressing love through interest … not being hurt by fantasies, not retaliating, surviving” (pg 85). It’s an admirably concise list of the relational behaviours and orientation which enable the psychotherapist to provide an environment which is psychically efficacious to the client. This is a relation in which the group can stand instead of an individual psychotherapist, at least under the specific conditions through which groups take on the requisite reliability and care.

What we mean by ‘holding’ here is a response to needs. The holding environment is total in utero, before reality begins to impinge with birth in the enforcement of what Sloterdijk describes as respiratory autonomy. However to the extent the the infant remains “largely protected fromt he grosser impingements of reality (and of accompanying anxieties)” she “develops a growing sense of ‘continuity of being'” given how the “mother acts as a bay’s ‘auxiliary ego’ while baby, relatively unperturbed, is left to discover its primitive, coherent , authentic identity” (pg 84). The withdrawal of the mother from what Winnicott described as “primary maternal preoccupation” lessens the attunement on which this near total holding depends, such that “the infant begins to experience the ‘impingement’ of small ‘doses of reality'” in which “Not everything happens when he wants it; between a need and a satisfaction, a gap appears” (pg 84).

This is the arena in which Lacan is so terrifyingly incisive in accounting for how our libidinal economy forms in the gap between need, demand and desire. We rely on the caregivers to symbolise our needs, before we are able to meaningfully make demands. Our desire emerges is the continual gaps and absences that are left, the remainder of what we want that constitutes our lack in relation to a world in which we depend on the others. The modes of symbolising who we are, what we are and what we need that we are reliant upon them to provide, but which write these absences into the fabric of the world in a way that leaves a gnawing sense that something is missing. The wordless fantasy of a return to the in utero state of complete holding, the complex paranoias about how and why this has been taken away, the growing recognition that these caregivers have their own preoccupations and gnawing absences. They don’t know what we want, but they don’t know what they want either. In our dependence upon them we are caught up in a great chain of lack which long precedes us, a river of unrealised and unrealisable need that flows through the relational network.

For Winnicott this is more of a zero-sum matter. Either the care giving is ‘good enough’ in which the hold on the infant’s lifeworld is loosened, in the infant comes to experiencing being ‘let down’ or ‘dropped’. If the latter the infant comes to find ways to hold themselves. There’s a growing sense of the ‘object mother’, in contrast to the environmental mother of the holding environment, against which the infant seeks to test themselves. The boundary comes to be one they explore through their own enactment, driven by the character of the care they have experienced e.g. is it a playful pushing away or a defensive holding of the line. The reality of the object mother is tested through her capacity to withstand a sometimes violent and hateful pushing away. If I understand this idea correctly it’s a trust in the bond being predicated on experiencing the capacity of that bond to survive ‘bad behaviour’ i.e. the love is about who I am not what I do. In the absence of that trust what I do comes to be orientated towards a continual winning of that love through the cultivation of an ego orientated towards the (imagined) needs of the other.

The value of Lacan lies in unsettling this comfortable dichotomy of ‘good enough’ and ‘dropped’ care giving. He also emphasises the third of the father (figure) who breaks up this dyad, which conceptualises the impingement of reality in relational terms rather than simply being collateral damage from changing within the dyad. The advantage of Winnicott lies in his account of transitional objects as mediating this individuation, through imbue objects with ‘good-mother stuff’ that can support a sense of a world “neither entirely inner, wholly subjective and omnipotently ruled, nor entirely outer, wholly objective, impotently inhabited” (pg 84). The transitional object anchors a sense of this space, enabling the infant to feel separated but not wholly distinct from, the caregiver. It bridges the otherwise traumatic gap between inner and outer. There’s a lot more conceptual work here to do but I’d like to (a) use Lacan to overcome Winnicott’s dichotomy (b) retain the relationality of the ‘third’ rather than naturalising ‘reality’ (c) retain the notion of the transitional object. It could be construed as the infant’s first response to the structural impossibility of their condition, the start of a lifetime’s project of trying to knot together the orders in a way that equips them for, as Winnicott would put it, ‘going on being’. It’s not an ontological founding gesture but the first move in a lifelong existential struggle to find a way to hold themselves together across the registers: an initial attempt at the sinthome.

What I hadn’t previously grasped about ideas of security in this literature is that it involves a triad of characteristics: “a belief in the efficacy of open communication and a fundamental trust that there is, in the world, a reliable ‘place’ in which sufficient safety and satisfaction can, in spite of periods of anxious uncertainty, ultimately be found and re-found” (pg 88). Lacan could, I think, be extremely powerful for understanding how, as an Archerian theorist would put it, these elements are independently variable: they can go ‘wrong’ for the infant in ways detachable from each other. The trust might be there but the lack of faith in open communication makes it difficult to realise in practice. There might be open communication but it discloses an insecure or inconsistent base that cannot be relied upon. There’s more conceptual work here to think about these questions but it struck me as a very significant interface, which could also be informed by Sloterdijk’s idea of the sphere, particularly with regards to what we diagnoses as forms of ‘stuckness’:

Now the good world becomes unattainable. No progression can occur with the frustrated infant, and its life, which had ventured this far, is now trapped; it is too late to turn back, and there are no longer adequate transitional aids in sight for it to go forwards. Thus a rigid continuum is inscribed upon its organism; a white point grows in the symbolic field, the pain remains imprisoned in non-linguistic bodily processes, and the pressure to live is incapable of transforming itself into an expressive libido.

Bubbles, Pg 395

The stuckness is another way of thinking about how the attachment patterns which emerge at this interface can cause lifelong problems. This is exactly the terrain where group analysis is so powerful as a method of restaging these dynamics within the holding environment of the group. The simplicity (in a good way) of object relations comes through the idea of the working model which emerges for each individual, such that there’s a disposition to “seek relational security through controlling the degree of proximity their internal working model indicates works best” (pg 89). This enables working forms of compromise in which a sense of safety can be achieved, even if it’s precarious (e.g. it rests on forms of distancing which are biographically contingent) and precludes certain modes of growth and enjoyment. Disorganised attachment can be understood as the absence of such a consistent model which means that even precarious compromises are foreclosed “since they remain unclear whether relational proximity or distance best proffers the security they seek” (pg 89). Ontologically I think this is limited in its analytical capacity for therapeutically it’s very powerful for understanding how forms of stuckness are ultimately relationally constituted (even if not reducible to those relations) in ways that involve grappling with past experience under present circumstances.

So what does this have to do with LLMs? The claims I want to make here are quite simple:

a) The vast majority of individuals experience ‘stuckness’ to vary degrees: an often inchoate felt need to do and be more than they are. The content of this need varies immensely at the empirical level, particularly with regards to where someone is in the lifecourse, but it can ultimately be understood in terms of the relational dynamics of individuation and differentiation.

b) We don’t escape the infantile interplay which formed us as much as that we learn to cope with them in ways which facilitate growth or hinder it. In grappling with this stuckness as adults we are grappling with these early experiences of reality intruding into the original dyad: the ‘third’ which is the vector of differentiation and the transitional objects which help us cope with it.

c) This means that thirds and transitional objects remain potent throughout the lifecourse. For example Lacan would argue that obsessives and hysterics both rely on the third to sustain desire in intimate relationships. Likewise we don’t escape the need for transitional objects, we just relate to them differently. This is the foundry of creative action in which we make things which we are neither ‘I’ nor ‘you’, neither ‘inner’ nor ‘outer’, at least in the phase of creation.

At risk of surprising no one who has read this far, LLMs are capable of operating as both thirds and transitional objects. If you consider how increasing numbers of users are relating to LLMs for affective purposes, it rests upon asking questions and getting perspectives on life situations in which they find themselves. The LLM stands in for an authoritative observer who is able to sense-check a reading of a situation and test an understanding of the action possible and desirable within it. The LLM can also operate as a transitional object through which someone constitutes their own holding environment, enabling a form of self-holding, albeit briefly.

Consider what we saw earlier about the psychotherapist (or the analytic group) being “preoccupied with the patient and placing himself at his service, being reliably present, making an effort to understand, refraining from imposing his own needs/agenda, expressing love through interest … not being hurt by fantasies, not retaliating, surviving” (pg 85). These are all things which the model can do effectively. Indeed one could argue they do them, in a limited sense, ‘better’ than any human ever could. There’s no boundary to the interaction, no limitations to their attentiveness, no constraint on their availability*. They are always there, always interested, always responsive. The eery thing which people simply don’t get unless they’ve got into long conversation with contemporary models is how powerful the attunement can be. It’s a computational facsimile of human attunement but a powerful sense of recognition is possible through pattern mapping of the lifeworld we have disclosed to the model** and responses which are inclined resonantly towards the character of our experience within it.

I’m particularly interested in how people increasingly access LLMs via the smart phone which is the transitional object par excellence. The intimate object which sits on our person at all times, which many of us touch hundreds of times in a day. The portal to our identity and our social world. The fact the LLM now sits ‘inside’ the smart phone is extremely potent and I suspect usage data will show a significantly different pattern of LLM engagement with smart phone use. It also means the LLM is always with us as we travel with the smartphone.

None of this is quite clear to me yet. This is why I called this post a ‘sketch’. But it feels like a valuable terrain in which to have found myself. I think I’m arguing the LLM is sometimes cast in the role of the third, whereas sometimes its cast in the role of interlocutor. If we’re accessing it through the smartphone then I think the phone is the transitional object and the LLM is providing that phone with a new self-holding capacity. If we’re access it through a laptop (etc) then I’m not sure. There’s a lot more work to do here but I hope I’ve convinced anyone who has read this far of the psychic potency of the LLM and why we need to understand the psychodynamics of this. I’m increasingly preoccupied with the risks facing teenagers (and younger) who are using these systems in such a way that it intervenes in the dynamicsI talked about earlier in the post. I fear there’s a level of psychic harm capable of being inflected here with the potential to vastly outstrip the harms generated by social media.

*In reality there are boundaries: rate limits, subscription costs, context windows, limitations on memory, trust & safety guardrails. But my hunch it doesn’t feel like this for much of the time and that’s significant.

**If this seems wildly implausible, it’s essentially what my forthcoming book with Milan Sturmer is about.

#attachment #attunment #development #infants #Lacan #LLMs #models #psychoanalysis #security #Winnicott

😺🐻🐰 #satire #cult #philosophy #spirituality #psychoanalysis #SigmundFreud #JudithButler #CarlGustavJung #semiotics #cat #cats #teddy #teddies

http://nu-relations.com/2025/10/10/towards-a-radical-psychoanalysis-of-teddy-and-catnu-relations-and-the-morphogenesis-of-a-zoomorphic-collective-unconscious/

Sometimes our local crafting thrift store has Interesting Color Commentary on the items for sale: https://makeandmendshop.com/collections/new-this-week/products/ha-0280

"This game still exists, but this is the 1970s version and has some real weird questions in it! Would not recommend playing this particular set with a child in the year 2025."

#thrift #makedoandmend #SomervilleMA #psychoanalysis #games

When Lacan came to America

This is fascinating from Sherry Turkle about what she terms Lacan’s psychoanalytical protestantism:

But for me, there was more to Lacan’s popularity than the idea that the French had found a Catholic and French Freud. My working hypothesis: In the aftermath of the failed student uprising of May 1968, Lacan’s notions about the centrality of what he called the symbolic order became a way to think through the political ideas of May. May ideology insisted that there was no line between the political and the personal. Lacan insisted that people and society are constituted through language. There is no “natural man” prior to life through language. Lacan’s idea of the symbolic became a way for people to keep politics alive. For a generation that was abandoning the barricades, thinking of yourself as Lacanian did not feel like giving up on the political world.

From the point of view of psychoanalytic Protestantism, the psychoanalytic institution sells its indulgences for the price of a medical degree, a psychiatric residency, a training analysis, and promises of obedience to dogma. Lacan, like Luther, was trying to draw attention to the moment when each must stand alone and make a personal commitment, not to an institution, but to a belief or a vocation (Turkle 2022, p. 236).

It’s from this special issue, which I want to explore more.

#Lacan #psychoanalysis #SherryTurkle #structuralism

erikajordan
You don’t need a psych degree to see the guy’s posts are unhinged and practically confessing. Go look for yourself. #psychoanalysis #psychology #psychologist #post #sociologist
https://www.threads.com/@erikajordan/post/DMNelvJxwXx?xmt=AQF0wLAwcOltZEE3z--Ieu5FD6BVo7Aueo1tctLwBs7Z9g

erikajordan
You don’t need a psych degree to see the guy’s posts are unhinged and practically confessing. Go look for yourself. #psychoanalysis #psychology #psychologist #post #sociologist
https://www.threads.com/@erikajordan/post/DMNelvJxwXx?xmt=AQF0wLAwcOltZEE3z--Ieu5FD6BVo7Aueo1tctLwBs7Z9g

erikajordan
You don’t need a psych degree to see the guy’s posts are unhinged and practically confessing. Go look for yourself. #psychoanalysis #psychology #psychologist #post #sociologist
https://www.threads.com/@erikajordan/post/DMNelvJxwXx?xmt=AQF0wLAwcOltZEE3z--Ieu5FD6BVo7Aueo1tctLwBs7Z9g

erikajordan
You don’t need a psych degree to see the guy’s posts are unhinged and practically confessing. Go look for yourself. #psychoanalysis #psychology #psychologist #post #sociologist
https://www.threads.com/@erikajordan/post/DMNelvJxwXx?xmt=AQF0wLAwcOltZEE3z--Ieu5FD6BVo7Aueo1tctLwBs7Z9g

erikajordan
You don’t need a psych degree to see the guy’s posts are unhinged and practically confessing. Go look for yourself. #psychoanalysis #psychology #psychologist #post #sociologist
https://www.threads.com/@erikajordan/post/DMNelvJxwXx?xmt=AQF0wLAwcOltZEE3z--Ieu5FD6BVo7Aueo1tctLwBs7Z9g

My latest article, “Terribilis Occidentalis: A Dialectical Critique of Oikophobia,” will appear in the journal, Critical Perspectives, which is the new journal of the Institute for Critical Social Theory, published by Ekpyrosis Press. https://www.criticalsocialtheory.con
#philosophy #sociology #psychoanalysis #politics #politicalscience #academicchatter #MENA #globalsouth #theWest

A Lacanian analysis of addiction

From Bruce Fink’s Against Understanding, Volume 1: Commentary and Critique in a Lacanian Key:

“Addiction” is not, in and of itself, a psychoanalytic diagnosis, inasmuch as it refers to activities found across the diagnostic spectrum. Addictions may, like so many other cyclical activities, be viewed as symptomatic (i.e., compulsive) activities that aim at achieving a form of satisfaction or jouissance that they approach but never fully attain. It is, it seems, the very failure to fully reach what is sought that leads to the repetition of such activities. (Missing one’s objective is what brings on repetition, suggests Lacan, 1978.)

It occurred to me that Alan Carr’s account of addiction sits interestingly with this model, in the sense that he argues addiction involves a misidentification of enjoyment. It’s jouissance in Lacan’s terms, a pleasure-in-pain, rather than something which exists as a more straight forward form of pleasure sensation. It could perhaps, in a Lacanian register, be seen as an argument about searching for a positive core to jouissance which can never be found.

#addiction #AlanCarr #compulsion #Lacan #psychoanalysis

The #Yogācāra school's eightfold model of #consciousness (#vijñāna) offers a detailed Buddhist framework for understanding perception, identity, and delusion. By analyzing layers from sensory awareness to the unconscious "#storehouse" (#ĀlayaVijñāna), it provides a unique #psychoanalytic system without a permanent self (#anatta):

🌍 https://www.fabriziomusacchio.com/weekend_stories/told/2025/2025-06-07-vijnanas/

#WeekendStories #Buddhism #Psychology #Psychoanalysis #BuddhistPhilosophy #CognitiveScience

The Beautiful Messiness of Being Human: Exploring Emotions, Mind, and Connection

#EmotionalContagion #BrainPlasticity #CognitivePsychology #HumanExperience #Jung #Existentialism #Psychoanalysis #MentalHealth #MindBodyConnection #HumanCondition #Curiosity #Connection #MentalWellness #PersonalGrowth #EmotionalIntelligence

https://youtube.com/shorts/vpegUQUXF2s?feature=share