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Sigmund FreudA modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.
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When faced with their own aggression and destruction, humans often internalize the instinct—or send it “back where it came from, i.e., directed against the ego” (65). The result is “conscience,” which “exercises the same propensity to harsh aggressiveness against the ego that the ego would have liked to enjoy against others” (65). Conscience manifests as a “sense of guilt” and “the need for punishment” (66). This is a chief function of the super-ego, the part of the mind that, on behalf of society, watches over the ego "like a garrison in a conquered city” (66).
Society wants individual egos to recognize certain thoughts and actions as evil. Not every such act will be bad for a given ego: “[O]n the contrary, it can also be something that it desires, that would give it pleasure” (66). A person learns to avoid certain behaviors for a simple reason: “If he loses the love of others on whom he is dependent, he will forfeit also their protection against many dangers” (66) and may also be subject to punishment. Even thinking of doing something bad gives rise to pangs of conscience, as intent can also be cause for rejection and punishment.
A child fears retribution merely as a form of “social anxiety” and might otherwise try to get away with the prohibited act, but most adults thoroughly internalize cultural norms until they, too, perceive anti-social acts as evil. The most virtuous person, when things go wrong, “holds an inquisition within, discovers his sin, heightens the standards of his conscience, imposes abstinences on himself and punishes himself with penances” (68).
For many people and societies, misfortune is taken as punishment: “Fate is felt to be a substitute for the agency of the parents: adversity means that one is no longer loved by this highest power of all” (69), who must therefore be appeased with acts of contrition. The Jews, for example, suffer God’s punishments, and “out of their sense of guilt they constructed the stringent commandments of their priestly religion” (69). A primitive man, on the other hand, will simply blame “his fetish, who has plainly not done his duty by him, and he belabours it instead of punishing himself” (69).
The super-ego’s stern oversight has a drawback: “a lasting inner unhappiness, the tension of a sense of guilt” (70). In other words, “[t]he aggressiveness of conscience carries on the aggressiveness of authority” (70), and this can be debilitating, as the process can feed on itself. “Renunciation (externally imposed) gives rise to conscience, which then demands further renunciations” (71).
The first stirrings of the sense of guilt that informs conscience arise when children act out aggressively, are punished, and internalize the punishing authority figure, “which then becomes the super-ego and comes into possession of all the aggressiveness which the child would gladly have exercised against it” (71). Every subsequent suppression of an aggressive impulse strengthens the conscience imposed by the super-ego. The instinctual desire to supersede or kill the father can lead to pangs of remorse once the aggressive instinct has been sated and the old feelings of love for the parent resurface. However, a sense of conscience must already be in place for feelings of remorse to occur. Only a child’s love for its parent can generate the guilt of remorse; thus, “guilt is the expression of the conflict of ambivalence, the eternal struggle between Eros and the destructive or death instinct” (76). Later, as the child grows up and enters into relationships with group members outside the family, the sense of conscience extends to them.
Guilt is a form of anxiety that unconsciously seeks punishment (78). (Religions attempt to expiate this guilt, or “sin”; for instance, in Christianity, a savior takes humanity’s guilt upon himself and then is sacrificed (79). Guilt can occur at the mere thought of committing a forbidden act as well as afterward (while remorse, a form of guilt, arises only after a deed). Guilt is “an aggression that had been turned inward” (81), and guilt can manifest as neurotic behavior: “The symptoms of neurosis, as we have learned, are essentially substitutive gratifications for unfulfilled sexual wishes” (82). These symptoms serve as self-punishments against forbidden desires. This entire process serves the purpose of extending society to more people, who suppress some of their instincts in order to get along. Individuals accept these conditions to further their long-term happiness, while societies punish people to attain unity of purpose without regard to happiness. Thus, individuals and societies must struggle with humans’ competing urges for happiness and fellowship.
Freud argues that even a community can develop a super-ego when “men of outstanding force of mind” (84) are either revered or reviled and sometimes killed (just like primordial father figures) until society comes to adopt their individual beliefs as moral truths. Jesus Christ is a prime example. Like an individual, a community becomes anxious when rules are broken. Yet, societies’ efforts to control aggression are largely unsuccessful, and Freud argues that the admonition to love one’s neighbors “is impossible to fulfil” (86). Religions’ promise of a better afterlife has limited effect on curing conflict. And socialism’s cure—i.e., limiting ownership of property—fails as impractical because its “idealistic expectations disregard [] human nature” (87). In a sense, then, societies can become neurotic. Trying to cure this with psychoanalysis would be difficult at best, “since no one possesses power to compel the community to adopt the therapy” (87). Freud therefore leaves unanswered the question whether civilization, with all its foibles and virtues, is worth it.
Freud organized the human mind into three parts: the id, the ego, and the super-ego. Here, he examines social control through the lens of the super-ego, the part of the human mind that adapts and internalizes a community’s code of conduct. The super-ego is, in effect, a governor on a person’s ambitions, a brake that each person applies privately in order to cooperate publicly.
Psychologists have long questioned Freud’s ideas about mental motivations, many contesting the notion of the three brain functions. Still, Freud’s notion of the three-part mind can serve as a useful rule of thumb that outlines, in a rough way, the processes of human behavior. The prefrontal cortex of the brain, where humans do most of their thinking, contains much of what are termed executive functions, processes that can override habitual or instinctual behaviors in the short term to protect a person from unthinking callousness and other serious errors of behavior and judgment. “Oops, I better not do that” might be its motto. Freud did not have access to modern brain research, but if he did, he might very well conclude that executive functions include what he refers to as the super-ego.
Whatever you term the function, humans do suppress their instincts, typically to smooth their relationships with others. Freud suggests that children do this to avoid punishment while adults so thoroughly resist non-communal instincts that society’s rules become part of their personal identities. Thus, grown-ups can feel guilt and remorse for actions they take that cause pain to others, and they will condemn their own misbehavior — or even the mere thought of misbehaving. As a result, people label themselves as “good” or “bad.”
It’s one thing to assert that individuals can internalize the moral judgments of others; it’s quite another to suggest that an entire community might contain a kind of group super-ego that regulates community behaviors. Freud introduces this hypothesis preliminarily, perhaps as food for thought or stimulus for discussion; he admits it’s a weak idea that needs further research before it can be taken seriously. Still, the notion that groups of people can become neurotic, in a manner analogous to individuals, might prove useful as a template for further research on how communities misbehave or fall into dysfunction.
Freud’s overall purpose, in discussing the discontents of civilization, is to expand his theories of private human foibles into a greater understanding of how people behave in large groups. He seems to hope that his theory of psychoanalysis might profitably be applied to large social issues—and thus benefit, not only individual patients who lie on the analyst’s couch, but also society at large. In this, as in all his endeavors, Freud is ambitious and energetic, his own libido fully transmuted into useful, if challenging, ideas.
By Sigmund Freud