(1) the self as alien intruder among external objects (Mahler); (2) the self as both alien intruder and a person who is alienated from himself because of ego fragmentation (Camus); (3) the need for mirroring selfobjects (Wagner); the need for mirroring selfobjects in individuals who had faulty parenting and who consequently struggle with ego fragmentation; (4) the father as intruder; (5) and the incorporation of the intruding father into the ego as both an ideal (a derivative of the father as an “honored” person) and an inhibiting force (a derivative of the “hated and feared” father) (Freud).
It’s uncanny that the quotes come back to slavery, antisemitism and (racism).
For the first time I thought about something that is quite fascinating concerning Freud’s Moses and Monotheism. Moses was an intruder in the Royal House of Egypt, the Hebrews were intruders in Egypt, the father is an actual intruder in relation to the mother vis-a-vis the child, and the father is symbolically an intruder (or introject) in the mind of the child who incorporates the [intruding] father. In the book Moses and Monotheism Freud moves from a discussion of the ancient Hebrews in Egypt to a discussion of the development of the superego and the incorporation of the image of the father into the child’s ego. For the first time I saw that the themes of intrusion and incorporation in Freud’s book Moses and Monotheism are overdetermined and relate to both the relations of ancient Hebrews to Egyptians but also to the relationship of father to child. Maybe that’s a novel insight about Freud’s book.
Freud writes: “In the course of individual development a part of the inhibiting forces in the outer world [the intruding father] becomes internalized; a standard is created in the Ego which opposes the other faculties by observation, criticism and prohibition. We call this new standard the superego. From now on the Ego, before undertaking to satisfy the instincts, has to consider not only the dangers of the outer world, but also the objections of the super-ego, and has therefore more occasion for refraining from satisfying the instinct.”
May I inquire: Is this a Jewish dream? Does the dream relate to cultural issues as much as to purely psychological issues?
The following dream from Freud’s book, Interpretation of Dreams discusses Jewish concerns, which is unusual in Freud’s book. The dream has an unusual content as compared with Freud’s other dreams: it relates to both cultural issues and purely psychological issues. Might we say that in this dream Freud finds himself in the role of an intruder in Rome? The Jew in the Catholic city?
On account of something or other that is happening in Rome, it is necessary for the children to flee, and this they do. The scene is then laid before a gate, a double gate in the ancient style (the Porta Romana in Siena, as I realize while I am dreaming). I am sitting on the edge of a well, and I am greatly depressed; I am almost weeping. A woman – a nurse, a nun – brings out the two boys and hands them over to their father, who is not myself. The elder is distinctly my eldest son [Martin], but I do not see the face of the other boy. The woman asks the eldest boy for a parting kiss. She is remarkable for a red nose. The boy refuses her the kiss, but says to her, extending her his hand in parting, “Auf Geseres,” and to both of us (or to one of us) “Auf Ungeseres.” I have the idea that this indicates a preference.
This dream is built upon a tangle of thoughts induced by a play I saw at the theatre, called Das neue Ghetto (The New Ghetto). The Jewish question, anxiety as to the future of my children, who cannot be given a fatherland, anxiety as to educating them so that they may enjoy the privileges of citizens – all these features may easily be recognized in the accompanying dream-thoughts. “By the waters of Babylon we sat down and wept.” Siena, like Rome, is famous for its beautiful fountains. In the dream I have to find some sort of substitute for Rome (cf. chapter V., B.) from among localities which are known to me. Near the Porta Romana of Siena we saw a large, brightly-lit building, which we learned was the Manicomio, the insane asylum. Shortly before the dream I had heard that a co-religionist [i.e., a Jew] had been forced to resign a position, which he had secured with great effort, in a State asylum.
Our interest is aroused by the speech: “Auf Geseres,” where one might expect, from the situation continued throughout the dream, “Auf Wiedersehen” (Au revoir), and by its quite meaningless antithesis: “Auf Ungeseres.” (Un is a prefix meaning “not.”) According to information received from Hebrew scholars, Geseres is a genuine Hebrew word, derived from the verb goiser, and may best be rendered by “ordained sufferings, fated disaster.” From its employment in the Jewish jargon one would take it to mean “wailing and lamentation.” Ungeseres is a coinage of my own, and is the first to attract my attention, but for the present it baffles me. The little observation at the end of the dream – that Ungeseres indicates an advantage over Geseres – opens the way to the associations, and therewith to understanding. This relation holds good in the case of caviar; the unsalted kind is more highly prized than the salted. “Caviar to the general” – “noble passions.” Herein lies concealed a jesting allusion to a member of my household, of whom I hope – for she is younger than I – that she will watch over the future of my children; this, too, agrees with the fact that another member of my household, our worthy nurse, is clearly indicated by the nurse (or nun) of the dream. But a connecting-link is wanting between the pair, salted – unsalted and Geseres – Ungeseres. This is to be found in gesauert and ungesauert (leavened and unleavened). In their flight or exodus from Egypt the children of Israel had not time to allow their dough to become leavened, and in commemoration of this event they eat unleavened bread at Passover to this day. Here, too, I can find room for the sudden association which occurred to me in this part of the analysis. I remembered how we, my friend from Berlin and myself, had strolled about the streets of Breslau, a city which was strange to us, during the last days of Easter. A little girl asked me the way to a certain street; I had to tell her that I did not know it; I then remarked to my friend, “I hope that later on in life the child will show more perspicacity in selecting the persons whom she allows to direct her.” Shortly afterwards a sign caught my eye: “Dr. Herod, consulting hours…” I said to myself: “I hope this colleague does not happen to be a children’s specialist.” Meanwhile, my friend had been developing his views on the biological significance of bilateral symmetry, and had begun a sentence with the words: “If we had only one eye in the middle of the forehead, like Cyclops…” This leads us to the speech of the professor in the preliminary dream: “My son, the myopic.” And now I have been led to the chief source for Geseres. Many years ago, when this son of Professor M’s, who is today an independent thinker, was still sitting on his school-bench, he contracted an affection of the eye which, according to the doctor, gave some cause for anxiety. He expressed the opinion that so long as it was confined to one eye it was of no great significance, but that if it should extend to the other eye it would be serious. The affection subsided in the one eye without leaving any ill effects; shortly afterwards, however, the same symptoms did actually appear in the other eye. The boy’s terrified mother immediately summoned the physician to her distant home in the country. But the doctor was now of a different opinion (took the other side). “What sort of ‘Geseres’ is this you are making?” he asked the mother, impatiently. “If one side got well, the other will, too.” And so it turned out.