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On Habermas on Freud: A response to Lichtman
ON HABERMAS
ON FREUD: A RESPONSE TO LICHTMAN”
MICHAEL KELLY Department of Philosophy, Columbia University, New York, NY 10027, U.S.A. There are at least three ways to respond to Richard Lichtman’s critique of Habermas’ Freud interpretation and the use of psychoanalysis as a prototype of critical social science. One way is to defend Habermas’ interpretation by comparing it with Freud’s own writings; if this comparison proves accurate, one would still have to ask whether Freudian psychoanalysis can serve as the desired prototype. A second way is to argue that Habermas misunderstood Freud and thus misused him in formulating a model of critical self-reflection; this might result in a defense of an alternative interpretation of Freud concerning the very points Habermas had misunderstood, followed by revisions of the prototype. Yet a third strategy, which is the one I shall pursue, is to disregard, for the most part, whether Habermas interpreted Freud correctly, on the assumption that Habermas’ purpose in interpreting and using Freud was to establish the normative foundation of critique and that what we should examine here is whether this foundation is adequate. The measure of adequacy should be the demands of critique itself, not the correctness of Habermas’ Freud interpretation. In taking this strategy, it will be necessary, first, to examine Lichtman’s as well as Habermas’ indirect response to it major criticism of Habermas, published after the text on which Lichtman focuses;t second, to identify why Habermas analyzed Freud to begin with and thereby to clarify why he adopted the interpretation he did; third, to investigate some of Lichtman’s other objections to Habermas, asking what relevance they have to Habermas on-going project. The purposes of this strategy are to understand what the limits are on Habermas’ reconstruction of Freudian psychoanalysis and to evaluate critically whether he has succeeded in developing a normative foundation of critique that is philosophically defensible and practically efficacious, that is, emancipatory. To treat this latter purpose thoroughly would, of course, require more time and space than the format of this commentary will allow. However, at least I shall be able to establish the framework of my response to Lichtman in such a way that it is compatible with Habermas’ interest in social critique, an interest that, judging from Lichtman’s own comments at times, he shares as well. The main thesis of Lichtman’s “critical reflections” is that Habermas is wrong to claim that Freud’s psychoanalysis represents “the only tangible example of a *Commentary on R. Lichtman (1990) Psychoanalysis: Critique of Habermas’ prototype of critical social sciences, Vol. 8, No. 3, pp. 357-374. tFor the most part, Lichtman criticizes claims that Habermas makes in Knowledge and Human Interests (1971), which was first published in 1968 and which Habermas no longer fully accepts-for example, he does not utilize the tripartite division of cognitive interests: technical, practical, and emancipatory. But he has not revised his interpretation of Freud in any major way.
375
M. Kelly
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science incorporating methodological self-reflection” (pp. 357, 363, 367, 368 and 371).* This thesis is somewhat unclear, however, because it has at least two different meanings: either Freud’s model is not the olzly tangible example of methodological self-reflection, or it itself is not an example at all. If the former meaning is intended, then the question would be: what other examples are there? If the latter, the question would be: why is it not an example? Lichtman focuses on the second issue, but seems to have the first one in mind at the same time, albeit only implicitly until the very end when he mentions the need to integrate Freud with Marx. Following Lichtman, I shall also focus on the issue of whether Freud’s model is an example at all. Lichtman’s major objection to Habermas has several levels. He challenges (a) of biophysical energy as the Habermas’ rejection of Freud’s “metapsychology deleterious residue of positivist mechanics” (p. 357), as, in Habermas’ words, the result of Freud’s self-misunderstanding of psychoanalytic practice as a science; (b) Habermas’ reconstruction of Freud’s metapsychology according to the theory of communicative action, which transforms metapsychology from a theory of drives formulated in quasi-physicalist concepts into a form of depth hermeneutics; and (c) Habermas’ contention that, regardless of the form it takes, Freud’s metapsychology is derived from clinical practice in the sense that it “unfolds the logic of interpretation in the analytic situation of dialogue” (Habermas, 1971, p. 254; quoted in Lichtman, p. 361). Beginning with (c), Lichtman defends precisely the opposite relationship between metapsychology and therapeutic practice from that which Habermas advocates: “the whole analytic practice is . . . dependent upon a presupposed are irrevocably metapsychology” (p. 366). The “basic Freudian categories independent of experience” (p. 363); moreover, they ground “the interpretations that Freud utilized in the labor of concrete clinical interpretation” (p. 366).t The impact of this objection is that Habermas cannot just look to analytic practice, and specifically to its discursive structure, in developing his interpretation of Freud; he must look first and further to Freud’s metapsychology, to what, according to Lichtman, underlies this discursive structure. But the focus cannot be there either, because Lichtman argues, concerning (b) above, but a that Freud’s metapsychology is “not in fact a ‘depth hermeneutics,’ mechanistic energy model” (p. 366). No hermeneutic interpretation of the id, or the instincts, or the unconscious, or any cognate terms is possible in Freud’s theory. (p. 364; cf., also p. 367) Even in his very late writings Freud did not hesitate to regard the “biological” as the “underlying bedrock” of psychical phenomena. (p. 364) Hermeneutics becomes epiphenomenal to mechanistic discharge. (p. 367)
Lichtman’s
claim here is not just that Freud’s
metapsychology
is mechanistic,
but
*All page references in the text refer to Lichtman’s article. +Lichtkan raises the question whether “any metatheory can be ‘derived’ from experience,” and argues, using Freud’s theory of resistance as an example, that it would be a “positivist selfmisunderstanding” to do so (p. 365).
On Habermas on Freud
377
that Habermas cannot transform it according to his communicative model without first acknowledging that the metapsychology is based on the theory of drives. Moreover, concerning (a) above, it is not possible to sever Freud’s theory of drives from his analytic practice and metapsychology because the theory is an integral part of psychoanalysis, according to Lichtman, not merely the unfortunate but remediable result of Freud’s scientistic self-misunderstanding.* It is perhaps possible to transform Freud’s theory of drives, but not surgically to excise it; while the first is acceptable, if risky, surgery, the second is malpractice. This means that, if one wants to use psychoanalysis as a model of critique, one must find a place for the theory of drives. If Lichtman is right on this point, the strategy that Habermas adopts is not open. Insofar as he continues to rely on Freud nonetheless, he inadvertently links critique with a positivistic foundation that he otherwise has fought so hard to eliminate. Habermas (1985) recognizes that “one cannot have both the analytic instrument of a depth hermeneutics and a theory of drives formulated in quasiphysicalist concepts” (p. 2 12). I n making his choice between the two options, he argues that the physicalist interpretation is rather orthodox and does not have priority over depth hermeneutics as if it represents the “true” Freud. He has expressed this position all along by rejecting the standard Frankfurt School reading of Freud, held by Theodor Adorn0 and Herbert Marcuse, that also emphasizes the “biological” model;? and he continues to try to supplement Freud with his communicative model of metapsychology, now along with the aid of Kohlberg’s Piagetian model of moral development (cf., Habermas, 1985, pp. 221-223). Moreover, he still insists that he has the option to drop the theory of drives, specifically to replace “drive energies” with “interpreted needs” and “instinctual vicissitudes” with “identity formation” and “processes of interaction” (ibid., p. 213). Such moves are “purely methodological,” he argues, for they involve only a change in perspective (ibid.). Nothing essential to Freud’s overall theory is lost as a result of the change, since his references to a mechanistic model are merely metaphorical (ibid., p. 212). This last point makes it very clear that the major disagreement between Lichtman and Habermas is whether the theory of drives is essential to Freudian psychoanalysis. In order to have a real choice on this issue, perhaps Habermas should first be given the opportunity to drop the theory of drives and to transform Freud’s metapsychology; that is, perhaps Lichtman should not
*This does not mean that Lichtman simply accepts Freud’s theory of drives, for he wants to supplement it with Marxism, arguing that the theory as it stands is not adequate to the task of social critique because it is not “social” enough. This makes it clear that, when Lichtman argues that the biological Freud is the only Freud, the object of his criticisms is more critique itself than Habermas alone. tMore recently, he has criticized Whitebook’s (1985) argument that the Freudian theory of drives must be retained, if transformed, because it is essential to the conception of happiness, which itself is, according to Whitebook, an essential complement to justice and to Habermas’ cognitivist ethics. Habermas responds that Whitebook reifies the theory of drives and that we have to be satisfied (in ethics) once we have established the necessary conditions of happiness-for example, justice; we cannot expect to come to any agreement about any substantive conception of happiness itself (cf., Habermas, 1985).
M. Kelly
37x
exclude either move on the grounds that the result would no longer be Freudian. Understandably, Lichtman might respond to this suggestion by asking why he should allow Habermas this opportunity. The reason is that, as I have proposed from the beginning, it is important to consider the philosophical interests motivating Habermas’ interpretation of Freud. If I were to use the tripartite division of interests introduced in Knowledge and Human Interests, Habermas is clearly operating with the emancipatory interest in social critique that culminates in rational self-transformation. Since Lichtman, too, shares this interest, I should think he would not be adverse to giving Habermas this opportunity.* Habermas has never been interested in engaging in polemics with or about Freudian psychoanalysis; his major interest in this area has been to develop the normative foundation of critique. His interpretation of Freud may thus be but a stage in the development of his theory of communicative action, which explains why he focuses on the discursive dimension of psychoanalytic theory and practice.7 At the same time, however, Habermas (1985) engages in immanent critique by arguing that his interpretation of Freud would best resolve the problem that, on Habermas’ understanding, was Freud’s own main concern: It seems to me that the single most important question here is whether that “inner nature,” whose fateful entwinement in life histories is the object of psychoanalysis, can be better explained through interactional concepts or through concepts with more strongly physicalistic or biological connotations. (P. 213) Whereas
Lichtman
insists
that Freud
has only the biological
model,
Habermas
argues that his analytic practice to the communicative-interaction thus wants both to cure Freud
and metapsychology are best analyzed according model. According to Lichtman, Habermas and to use him for the purpose of developing a
model
“cure”
of social
critique.
The
is the
communicative
model,
which
creates a common ground between Freud’s therapeutic and metapsychological writings, by connecting the structural model of id, ego, and superego with the experiences gained in the communication between patient and analyst. (ibid., p. 212) That
is, the communicative
model
is not only a way of understanding
Freud’s
metapsychology, it also links this metapsychology with analytic practice-both being moves that Lichtman claims are not Freudian. The “communication-theoretical interpretation” of Freud has a number
of
*Since Lichtman’s major response to Habermas seems to come down to the point that Freud is more profoundly guilty of “scientistic self-misunderstanding” than even Habermas realized, why not try to “cure” Freud of this self-misunderstanding? THabermas no longer relies on psychoanalysis as the prototype of critical social science. Freudian psychoanalysis was perhaps an obvious illustration of Habermas’ notion of the “emancipatory interest.” But as soon as Habermas’ strategy shifted, then Freudian psychoanalysis was not so pertinent. Habermas’ writings after Knowledge and Human Interests bear this out.
On Habermas other
advantages,
Lichtman’s
other
according
on Freud
to Habermas,
several
379 of which speak
to certain
of
objections:*
This version conceptualizes clinical intuitions about deviant and successful processes of ego development by making defense mechanisms comprehensible as innerpsychic communication disturbances and by relating the extremes of overly defined/deficient ego boundaries (isolation/diffusion) to the pragmatic presuppositions of intact intersubjectivity and undistorted communication. (Habermas, 1985, p. 212) Instead of claiming, as Lichtman says Freud does, that processes of deviant ego development are to some extent unintelligible, Habermas tries to link them to a communicative model that would make them intelligible and subject to critical, intersubjective evaluation. Habermas’s ideal speech situation provides the communicative framework for intelligibility and evaluation. It also offers “a categorial framework in which metapsychology can be connected up with the basic concepts of research on socialization and the family” (ibid.). That is, because the communicative framework is intersubjective, it is able to connect ego development with processes of socialization in the family and in society in general. This point is, in effect, Habermas’ response to Lichtman’s criticism that, by following Freud, Habermas risks making autonomy and responsibility subservient to efficient; uncritical adaptation to bourgeois capitalist society. Habermas’ communicative model is introduced precisely to avoid this problem, among others. Of course, it may not be successful in the long run, but that is different from saying that Habermas is unaware of the problem or that he chose a strategy that is incapable in principle of dealing with the problem at all; neither is the case. If Habermas’ reasons for reconstructing Freud in terms of his theory of communicative action are clearer, it is now important to ask whether they are convincing. Here is where it is necessary to return to the issue to which I have alluded several times, namely, that Habermas’ main interest here is critique. To decide whether Habermas has a right to reconstruct Freud as he has done, we have to look to the problematic of critique, not to Freudian psychoanalysis per se. This means that the legitimacy of Habermas strategy of dropping the theory of drives and transforming Freudian metapsychology, as well as altering the relationship between analytic practice and metapsychology, depends on whether his model of critique is promising. It is precisely in relation to this last point, however, that Lichtman’s other objections to Habermas’ interpretation and use of Freud are relevant, even if (perhaps especially if) Habermas reconstructs Freud’s therapeutic model in terms of discourse ethics. Lichtman criticizes Habermas’ reliance on Freud’s model of the analyst-patient dialogical experience because it is inherently unequal and authoritarian, making it “incompatible with the democratic telos of
*One p. 212).
alleged
advantage
1 shall not discuss
concerns
the Oedipal
conflict
(cf.,
Habermas,
1985,
380
M. Kelly
Habermas’ understanding of critical social theory” (p. 367). At best, the patient attains equality with the analyst only if he or she, the patient, is cured, which means only when the therapy ends (p. 368). Habermas cannot possibly include such a relationship in the theory of communcative action, because equality is a necessary presupposition, not the result, of such action.* Furthermore, Lichtman argues that the analyst-patient communicative relationship may be effective precisely because of its inherent inequality: It has been maintained by critics of Freudian doctrine that such success [emancipation] as it can claim derives not from critical self-transformation but, rather, from such non-reflective facts as the dominant power that the analyst wields over the patient. (p. 369) This means that, so long as Habermas continues to appeal to the analyst-patient relationship, he will be faced with a choice between equality and effective therapy, that is, between equality and emancipation. Given all of Habermas’ writings, it is clear that he would choose equality, or, which, along with reciprocal recognition, constitutes intuition that serves as the bedrock of discourse foundation of social critique. If that is the case, what on the Freudian therapeutic model? It means that
as he refers to it, symmetry, the universal core of moral ethics, as the normative does it say about his reliance he can no longer rely on it,
unless he first transforms the analyst-patient relationship, inherent inequality. Whereas Lichtman is not convinced
unless he resolves that it can ever
its be
resolved, Habermas insists that it must and can be. A related objection that Lichtman raises is that Habermas fails to assess the “normative constitution of psychoanalysis,” that is, “the actual social, political, and ethical judgments that permeated Freud’s theoretical and practical work” (p. 369). The judgments Lichtman mentions are: the inherent deficiencies in human nature, the relation of the sexes, the necessity of war, the role of political authority and patriarchal power, the futility of rebellion and the impossibility of human self-transformation. (p. 369) The issue here is not merely that there are any normative judgments tied to Freud’s model, but that they are “so ‘frozen’ in their ideological functipn as to of psychoanalysis as an emancipatory thoroughly undermine the notion discipline” (p. 369). Why should this be a problem for Habermas, however, if it can be shown that he does not share these judgments? The problem once again concerns the normative foundation of emancipatory critique. One must be
*Habermas, in response to McCarthy’s (1985) criticism of- his Kohlbergian model of moral development, acknowledged that the analyst and the patient do indeed have equality if the patient is at the highest stage of moral development. This situation corresponds to the first of two possibiliries Lichtman considers: “(T)he patient overcomes resistance with the aid of the same general interpretations utilized by the therapist” (ibid.), presumably because most cases of analyst-patient relationships involve patients who have not yet reached the highest stage. So this point does not alter Lichtman’s criticism here.
On Habermas confident
that
this
foundation
on Freud
is compatible
with
381 the
emancipatory
interest.
More than compatibility is required, however, and this is the most fundamental issue here. The normative foundation is what makes critique possible as well as what makes it emancipatory, and it is what establishes the link between theory and practice, that is, between the theoretical knowledge embodied in psychology (or in social theory) and the emancipatory context of the analytic practice (or of social critique). Has Habermas provided an adequate normative foundation for critique? Has he “linked” theory and practice in a way that is consistent with both the pursuit of pure knowledge and with the practical interest in emancipation? I cannot answer this complex question here. I can only raise it, and point to it as an example of how Lichtman’s criticisms are relevant to Habermas’ interests in Knowledge and Human Interests and in all his work since then. At the same time, this question is a perfect illustration of how my strategy of responding to Lichtman’s critique of Habermas connects in a crucial way with concerns that they share. Of course, this does not mean that the differences between them are resolved; the debate on the issue of the normative foundation of critique will undoubtedly, and rightfully, continue. REFERENCES Habermas, J. (1971). Knowledge and human interests. Boston, MA: Beacon. Habermas, J. (1985). Questions and counterquestions. In R. J. Bernstein (Ed.), Habermus and modernity. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press. McCarthy, T. (1985). Reflections on rationalization in the ‘Theory of Communicative Action.’ In R. J. Bernstein (Ed.), Habermas and modernity. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press. Whitebook, J. (1985). Reason and happiness: Some psychoanalytic themes in critical theory. In R. _J. Bernstein (Ed.), Hn1trtmct.tcct~dtttodrr-ttity. Cambridge, MA: Ml7‘ Press.
ON FREUD: A RESPONSE TO LICHTMAN”
MICHAEL KELLY Department of Philosophy, Columbia University, New York, NY 10027, U.S.A. There are at least three ways to respond to Richard Lichtman’s critique of Habermas’ Freud interpretation and the use of psychoanalysis as a prototype of critical social science. One way is to defend Habermas’ interpretation by comparing it with Freud’s own writings; if this comparison proves accurate, one would still have to ask whether Freudian psychoanalysis can serve as the desired prototype. A second way is to argue that Habermas misunderstood Freud and thus misused him in formulating a model of critical self-reflection; this might result in a defense of an alternative interpretation of Freud concerning the very points Habermas had misunderstood, followed by revisions of the prototype. Yet a third strategy, which is the one I shall pursue, is to disregard, for the most part, whether Habermas interpreted Freud correctly, on the assumption that Habermas’ purpose in interpreting and using Freud was to establish the normative foundation of critique and that what we should examine here is whether this foundation is adequate. The measure of adequacy should be the demands of critique itself, not the correctness of Habermas’ Freud interpretation. In taking this strategy, it will be necessary, first, to examine Lichtman’s as well as Habermas’ indirect response to it major criticism of Habermas, published after the text on which Lichtman focuses;t second, to identify why Habermas analyzed Freud to begin with and thereby to clarify why he adopted the interpretation he did; third, to investigate some of Lichtman’s other objections to Habermas, asking what relevance they have to Habermas on-going project. The purposes of this strategy are to understand what the limits are on Habermas’ reconstruction of Freudian psychoanalysis and to evaluate critically whether he has succeeded in developing a normative foundation of critique that is philosophically defensible and practically efficacious, that is, emancipatory. To treat this latter purpose thoroughly would, of course, require more time and space than the format of this commentary will allow. However, at least I shall be able to establish the framework of my response to Lichtman in such a way that it is compatible with Habermas’ interest in social critique, an interest that, judging from Lichtman’s own comments at times, he shares as well. The main thesis of Lichtman’s “critical reflections” is that Habermas is wrong to claim that Freud’s psychoanalysis represents “the only tangible example of a *Commentary on R. Lichtman (1990) Psychoanalysis: Critique of Habermas’ prototype of critical social sciences, Vol. 8, No. 3, pp. 357-374. tFor the most part, Lichtman criticizes claims that Habermas makes in Knowledge and Human Interests (1971), which was first published in 1968 and which Habermas no longer fully accepts-for example, he does not utilize the tripartite division of cognitive interests: technical, practical, and emancipatory. But he has not revised his interpretation of Freud in any major way.
375
M. Kelly
376
science incorporating methodological self-reflection” (pp. 357, 363, 367, 368 and 371).* This thesis is somewhat unclear, however, because it has at least two different meanings: either Freud’s model is not the olzly tangible example of methodological self-reflection, or it itself is not an example at all. If the former meaning is intended, then the question would be: what other examples are there? If the latter, the question would be: why is it not an example? Lichtman focuses on the second issue, but seems to have the first one in mind at the same time, albeit only implicitly until the very end when he mentions the need to integrate Freud with Marx. Following Lichtman, I shall also focus on the issue of whether Freud’s model is an example at all. Lichtman’s major objection to Habermas has several levels. He challenges (a) of biophysical energy as the Habermas’ rejection of Freud’s “metapsychology deleterious residue of positivist mechanics” (p. 357), as, in Habermas’ words, the result of Freud’s self-misunderstanding of psychoanalytic practice as a science; (b) Habermas’ reconstruction of Freud’s metapsychology according to the theory of communicative action, which transforms metapsychology from a theory of drives formulated in quasi-physicalist concepts into a form of depth hermeneutics; and (c) Habermas’ contention that, regardless of the form it takes, Freud’s metapsychology is derived from clinical practice in the sense that it “unfolds the logic of interpretation in the analytic situation of dialogue” (Habermas, 1971, p. 254; quoted in Lichtman, p. 361). Beginning with (c), Lichtman defends precisely the opposite relationship between metapsychology and therapeutic practice from that which Habermas advocates: “the whole analytic practice is . . . dependent upon a presupposed are irrevocably metapsychology” (p. 366). The “basic Freudian categories independent of experience” (p. 363); moreover, they ground “the interpretations that Freud utilized in the labor of concrete clinical interpretation” (p. 366).t The impact of this objection is that Habermas cannot just look to analytic practice, and specifically to its discursive structure, in developing his interpretation of Freud; he must look first and further to Freud’s metapsychology, to what, according to Lichtman, underlies this discursive structure. But the focus cannot be there either, because Lichtman argues, concerning (b) above, but a that Freud’s metapsychology is “not in fact a ‘depth hermeneutics,’ mechanistic energy model” (p. 366). No hermeneutic interpretation of the id, or the instincts, or the unconscious, or any cognate terms is possible in Freud’s theory. (p. 364; cf., also p. 367) Even in his very late writings Freud did not hesitate to regard the “biological” as the “underlying bedrock” of psychical phenomena. (p. 364) Hermeneutics becomes epiphenomenal to mechanistic discharge. (p. 367)
Lichtman’s
claim here is not just that Freud’s
metapsychology
is mechanistic,
but
*All page references in the text refer to Lichtman’s article. +Lichtkan raises the question whether “any metatheory can be ‘derived’ from experience,” and argues, using Freud’s theory of resistance as an example, that it would be a “positivist selfmisunderstanding” to do so (p. 365).
On Habermas on Freud
377
that Habermas cannot transform it according to his communicative model without first acknowledging that the metapsychology is based on the theory of drives. Moreover, concerning (a) above, it is not possible to sever Freud’s theory of drives from his analytic practice and metapsychology because the theory is an integral part of psychoanalysis, according to Lichtman, not merely the unfortunate but remediable result of Freud’s scientistic self-misunderstanding.* It is perhaps possible to transform Freud’s theory of drives, but not surgically to excise it; while the first is acceptable, if risky, surgery, the second is malpractice. This means that, if one wants to use psychoanalysis as a model of critique, one must find a place for the theory of drives. If Lichtman is right on this point, the strategy that Habermas adopts is not open. Insofar as he continues to rely on Freud nonetheless, he inadvertently links critique with a positivistic foundation that he otherwise has fought so hard to eliminate. Habermas (1985) recognizes that “one cannot have both the analytic instrument of a depth hermeneutics and a theory of drives formulated in quasiphysicalist concepts” (p. 2 12). I n making his choice between the two options, he argues that the physicalist interpretation is rather orthodox and does not have priority over depth hermeneutics as if it represents the “true” Freud. He has expressed this position all along by rejecting the standard Frankfurt School reading of Freud, held by Theodor Adorn0 and Herbert Marcuse, that also emphasizes the “biological” model;? and he continues to try to supplement Freud with his communicative model of metapsychology, now along with the aid of Kohlberg’s Piagetian model of moral development (cf., Habermas, 1985, pp. 221-223). Moreover, he still insists that he has the option to drop the theory of drives, specifically to replace “drive energies” with “interpreted needs” and “instinctual vicissitudes” with “identity formation” and “processes of interaction” (ibid., p. 213). Such moves are “purely methodological,” he argues, for they involve only a change in perspective (ibid.). Nothing essential to Freud’s overall theory is lost as a result of the change, since his references to a mechanistic model are merely metaphorical (ibid., p. 212). This last point makes it very clear that the major disagreement between Lichtman and Habermas is whether the theory of drives is essential to Freudian psychoanalysis. In order to have a real choice on this issue, perhaps Habermas should first be given the opportunity to drop the theory of drives and to transform Freud’s metapsychology; that is, perhaps Lichtman should not
*This does not mean that Lichtman simply accepts Freud’s theory of drives, for he wants to supplement it with Marxism, arguing that the theory as it stands is not adequate to the task of social critique because it is not “social” enough. This makes it clear that, when Lichtman argues that the biological Freud is the only Freud, the object of his criticisms is more critique itself than Habermas alone. tMore recently, he has criticized Whitebook’s (1985) argument that the Freudian theory of drives must be retained, if transformed, because it is essential to the conception of happiness, which itself is, according to Whitebook, an essential complement to justice and to Habermas’ cognitivist ethics. Habermas responds that Whitebook reifies the theory of drives and that we have to be satisfied (in ethics) once we have established the necessary conditions of happiness-for example, justice; we cannot expect to come to any agreement about any substantive conception of happiness itself (cf., Habermas, 1985).
M. Kelly
37x
exclude either move on the grounds that the result would no longer be Freudian. Understandably, Lichtman might respond to this suggestion by asking why he should allow Habermas this opportunity. The reason is that, as I have proposed from the beginning, it is important to consider the philosophical interests motivating Habermas’ interpretation of Freud. If I were to use the tripartite division of interests introduced in Knowledge and Human Interests, Habermas is clearly operating with the emancipatory interest in social critique that culminates in rational self-transformation. Since Lichtman, too, shares this interest, I should think he would not be adverse to giving Habermas this opportunity.* Habermas has never been interested in engaging in polemics with or about Freudian psychoanalysis; his major interest in this area has been to develop the normative foundation of critique. His interpretation of Freud may thus be but a stage in the development of his theory of communicative action, which explains why he focuses on the discursive dimension of psychoanalytic theory and practice.7 At the same time, however, Habermas (1985) engages in immanent critique by arguing that his interpretation of Freud would best resolve the problem that, on Habermas’ understanding, was Freud’s own main concern: It seems to me that the single most important question here is whether that “inner nature,” whose fateful entwinement in life histories is the object of psychoanalysis, can be better explained through interactional concepts or through concepts with more strongly physicalistic or biological connotations. (P. 213) Whereas
Lichtman
insists
that Freud
has only the biological
model,
Habermas
argues that his analytic practice to the communicative-interaction thus wants both to cure Freud
and metapsychology are best analyzed according model. According to Lichtman, Habermas and to use him for the purpose of developing a
model
“cure”
of social
critique.
The
is the
communicative
model,
which
creates a common ground between Freud’s therapeutic and metapsychological writings, by connecting the structural model of id, ego, and superego with the experiences gained in the communication between patient and analyst. (ibid., p. 212) That
is, the communicative
model
is not only a way of understanding
Freud’s
metapsychology, it also links this metapsychology with analytic practice-both being moves that Lichtman claims are not Freudian. The “communication-theoretical interpretation” of Freud has a number
of
*Since Lichtman’s major response to Habermas seems to come down to the point that Freud is more profoundly guilty of “scientistic self-misunderstanding” than even Habermas realized, why not try to “cure” Freud of this self-misunderstanding? THabermas no longer relies on psychoanalysis as the prototype of critical social science. Freudian psychoanalysis was perhaps an obvious illustration of Habermas’ notion of the “emancipatory interest.” But as soon as Habermas’ strategy shifted, then Freudian psychoanalysis was not so pertinent. Habermas’ writings after Knowledge and Human Interests bear this out.
On Habermas other
advantages,
Lichtman’s
other
according
on Freud
to Habermas,
several
379 of which speak
to certain
of
objections:*
This version conceptualizes clinical intuitions about deviant and successful processes of ego development by making defense mechanisms comprehensible as innerpsychic communication disturbances and by relating the extremes of overly defined/deficient ego boundaries (isolation/diffusion) to the pragmatic presuppositions of intact intersubjectivity and undistorted communication. (Habermas, 1985, p. 212) Instead of claiming, as Lichtman says Freud does, that processes of deviant ego development are to some extent unintelligible, Habermas tries to link them to a communicative model that would make them intelligible and subject to critical, intersubjective evaluation. Habermas’s ideal speech situation provides the communicative framework for intelligibility and evaluation. It also offers “a categorial framework in which metapsychology can be connected up with the basic concepts of research on socialization and the family” (ibid.). That is, because the communicative framework is intersubjective, it is able to connect ego development with processes of socialization in the family and in society in general. This point is, in effect, Habermas’ response to Lichtman’s criticism that, by following Freud, Habermas risks making autonomy and responsibility subservient to efficient; uncritical adaptation to bourgeois capitalist society. Habermas’ communicative model is introduced precisely to avoid this problem, among others. Of course, it may not be successful in the long run, but that is different from saying that Habermas is unaware of the problem or that he chose a strategy that is incapable in principle of dealing with the problem at all; neither is the case. If Habermas’ reasons for reconstructing Freud in terms of his theory of communicative action are clearer, it is now important to ask whether they are convincing. Here is where it is necessary to return to the issue to which I have alluded several times, namely, that Habermas’ main interest here is critique. To decide whether Habermas has a right to reconstruct Freud as he has done, we have to look to the problematic of critique, not to Freudian psychoanalysis per se. This means that the legitimacy of Habermas strategy of dropping the theory of drives and transforming Freudian metapsychology, as well as altering the relationship between analytic practice and metapsychology, depends on whether his model of critique is promising. It is precisely in relation to this last point, however, that Lichtman’s other objections to Habermas’ interpretation and use of Freud are relevant, even if (perhaps especially if) Habermas reconstructs Freud’s therapeutic model in terms of discourse ethics. Lichtman criticizes Habermas’ reliance on Freud’s model of the analyst-patient dialogical experience because it is inherently unequal and authoritarian, making it “incompatible with the democratic telos of
*One p. 212).
alleged
advantage
1 shall not discuss
concerns
the Oedipal
conflict
(cf.,
Habermas,
1985,
380
M. Kelly
Habermas’ understanding of critical social theory” (p. 367). At best, the patient attains equality with the analyst only if he or she, the patient, is cured, which means only when the therapy ends (p. 368). Habermas cannot possibly include such a relationship in the theory of communcative action, because equality is a necessary presupposition, not the result, of such action.* Furthermore, Lichtman argues that the analyst-patient communicative relationship may be effective precisely because of its inherent inequality: It has been maintained by critics of Freudian doctrine that such success [emancipation] as it can claim derives not from critical self-transformation but, rather, from such non-reflective facts as the dominant power that the analyst wields over the patient. (p. 369) This means that, so long as Habermas continues to appeal to the analyst-patient relationship, he will be faced with a choice between equality and effective therapy, that is, between equality and emancipation. Given all of Habermas’ writings, it is clear that he would choose equality, or, which, along with reciprocal recognition, constitutes intuition that serves as the bedrock of discourse foundation of social critique. If that is the case, what on the Freudian therapeutic model? It means that
as he refers to it, symmetry, the universal core of moral ethics, as the normative does it say about his reliance he can no longer rely on it,
unless he first transforms the analyst-patient relationship, inherent inequality. Whereas Lichtman is not convinced
unless he resolves that it can ever
its be
resolved, Habermas insists that it must and can be. A related objection that Lichtman raises is that Habermas fails to assess the “normative constitution of psychoanalysis,” that is, “the actual social, political, and ethical judgments that permeated Freud’s theoretical and practical work” (p. 369). The judgments Lichtman mentions are: the inherent deficiencies in human nature, the relation of the sexes, the necessity of war, the role of political authority and patriarchal power, the futility of rebellion and the impossibility of human self-transformation. (p. 369) The issue here is not merely that there are any normative judgments tied to Freud’s model, but that they are “so ‘frozen’ in their ideological functipn as to of psychoanalysis as an emancipatory thoroughly undermine the notion discipline” (p. 369). Why should this be a problem for Habermas, however, if it can be shown that he does not share these judgments? The problem once again concerns the normative foundation of emancipatory critique. One must be
*Habermas, in response to McCarthy’s (1985) criticism of- his Kohlbergian model of moral development, acknowledged that the analyst and the patient do indeed have equality if the patient is at the highest stage of moral development. This situation corresponds to the first of two possibiliries Lichtman considers: “(T)he patient overcomes resistance with the aid of the same general interpretations utilized by the therapist” (ibid.), presumably because most cases of analyst-patient relationships involve patients who have not yet reached the highest stage. So this point does not alter Lichtman’s criticism here.
On Habermas confident
that
this
foundation
on Freud
is compatible
with
381 the
emancipatory
interest.
More than compatibility is required, however, and this is the most fundamental issue here. The normative foundation is what makes critique possible as well as what makes it emancipatory, and it is what establishes the link between theory and practice, that is, between the theoretical knowledge embodied in psychology (or in social theory) and the emancipatory context of the analytic practice (or of social critique). Has Habermas provided an adequate normative foundation for critique? Has he “linked” theory and practice in a way that is consistent with both the pursuit of pure knowledge and with the practical interest in emancipation? I cannot answer this complex question here. I can only raise it, and point to it as an example of how Lichtman’s criticisms are relevant to Habermas’ interests in Knowledge and Human Interests and in all his work since then. At the same time, this question is a perfect illustration of how my strategy of responding to Lichtman’s critique of Habermas connects in a crucial way with concerns that they share. Of course, this does not mean that the differences between them are resolved; the debate on the issue of the normative foundation of critique will undoubtedly, and rightfully, continue. REFERENCES Habermas, J. (1971). Knowledge and human interests. Boston, MA: Beacon. Habermas, J. (1985). Questions and counterquestions. In R. J. Bernstein (Ed.), Habermus and modernity. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press. McCarthy, T. (1985). Reflections on rationalization in the ‘Theory of Communicative Action.’ In R. J. Bernstein (Ed.), Habermas and modernity. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press. Whitebook, J. (1985). Reason and happiness: Some psychoanalytic themes in critical theory. In R. _J. Bernstein (Ed.), Hn1trtmct.tcct~dtttodrr-ttity. Cambridge, MA: Ml7‘ Press.