Rezension zu Fed with Tears - Poisoned with Milk
Contemporary Psychoanalysis
Rezension von Sandra Buechler
Confronting Atrocity A Review of Fed with Tears- Poisoned with Milk
by H. Shmuel Erlich, Mira Erlich-Ginor, and Hermann Beland.
»Let us be realistic, let us try the impossible.«
Eva Maria Staudinger, quoting Ernesto Che Guevara, p. 153
In a series of conferences, German and Israeli psychoanalysts met
with Tavistock trained group leaders to explore how feelings and
fantasies about »German-ness« and »Israeli-ness respectively
Jewish-ness« influenced the ways they related to each other. This
book emerged out of their experiences. It is a collage of
expressions of what the meetings meant to some of the individual
participants. Rather than attempt to summarize, I offer my thoughts
about some of the issues these contributors raise.
»I am not my father, but his daughter«
Jutta Matzner-Eicke, p. 146
What do we each believe is the extent, and the limits, of
individual responsibility? In our hearts, do we hold ourselves, and
each other, accountable for only our own actions and inactions? I
think most would agree that a German person born after the war
should not be held responsible for the crimes committed during the
Holocaust. Similarly it is relatively easy to consciously assert
that an Israeli is not responsible for upholding his or her
parents’ attitudes toward the German people. But strong feelings
can override rational assertions. And we can understand this, when
we listen to the report (by Ursula Kreuzer-Haustein, p. 126) that
she heard of an Israeli conference participant whose mother
implored him not to travel with a friend in Germany, saying, »Don’t
do that, don’t trust them, they killed your grandparents!« Some of
the conference participants felt powerful shame and guilt, and a
sense of being a betrayer, merely because they went to these
meetings. Nevertheless, some overcame external pressures and
internal barriers and attended.
I imagine making these experiences public, by writing this book,
took great courage and a strong sense of purpose. Elsewhere (2004,
2008) I have written about these as two of the values the analyst
must embody. This book also manifests the value that the truth is
inherently worth pursuing. Surely this, too, must be inculcated in
analytic training. So, for me, the book is about responsibility,
the power of shame and guilt, the need for the presence of an
»other« in arriving at self understanding, and the moral fiber of
those who refuse to be dissuaded from pursuing their personal
truths.
I think this book has special relevance for the interpersonal
analyst. It explores the need for the presence of an »other« in the
process of reaching self awareness. In the forward to the book,
Archbishop Desmond M. Tutu draws a parallel between these
conferences and the work of his own Truth and Reconciliation
Commission. He suggests (p. 13) that »each group can face its own
most deeply held prejudices, assumptions, and beliefs in the
presence of the other group« (italics in original). Why would this
be so? And, as analysts, what can we learn from this?
It should be noted that the »other« necessary for personal
exploration was not at all a neutral party. Many participants
express the feeling that they couldn’t have learned as much about
themselves without the other group. But some emphasized that this
wasn’t so much about dialogue as it was about working on oneself in
the presence of the other. In the words of H. Shmuel Erlich, (p.
181) »Dialogue implies the prior recognition of the other’s
otherness and right to be what he is. This cannot be a direct goal;
it can only emerge as the byproduct of a process which in itself
need not be, and is not yet dialogic.«
Elsewhere (2008) I have explored my own belief that in treatment
the analyst’s struggle to (re) gain emotional balance in the
presence of the patient, is a vital component of the work. By being
there each participant provides a necessary backdrop for the
other’s self-exploration and emotional re-alignment. I think one
reason for this is that in the company of the other we are more
likely to discover our own, previously unrecognized, fundamental
interpersonal assumptions. Contrast is a powerful teacher. A
patient of mine suddenly understood that he had always assumed
people are competing with him, when he realized that competition
did not (usually) characterize our interchanges. Contrast teaches
us who we have always expected others to be.
But Erlich’s point is extremely valuable for us, as analysts. Many
of our patients come to us at a point when they are still unready
to recognize the »otherness« of the other. Without this fundamental
ingredient of a dialogic process, they are, in a sense,
pre-dialogic. This means, to me, that a crucial aspect of treatment
is each participant’s encounter with his or her own emotions and
assumptions. The physical presence of the other facilitates the
possibility that this encounter will occur.
We can look at these conferences (as well as all analytic work) as
efforts to explore the meaning of prejudicial exclusion. Just as
Jews were excluded non-persons in Nazi Germany, the unconscious, or
Sullivan’s (1953) »not me« is a personal version of the excluded.
What is the relationship between the excluding and the excluded?
Or, we might ask, what causes the prejudicial need to exclude? Many
volumes have been written on prejudice and the roots of the need to
banish the »other.« For example, in a recent contribution, Aviram
(2009) has developed an object relational understanding of the
origins of prejudice. He focuses on over-identification with one’s
own in-group as a key component. It seems clear that our collective
and individual lives depend on increasing our understanding of
these processes.
Does this mean that we should strive to eliminate hatred? Would we
lose something precious if we could accomplish this? As one
conference member put it (Irene Melnick, p. 91):
Empathy for their suffering began to emerge in the Israeli group
and the question
remained what to do with our hatred. Is it useful or is it just a
poison to our minds
and to the minds of our children? With no hatred, how do we
remember or prevent
it from happening again?
As analysts, it seems to me that we should have something to say
about the nature of emotional health, and whether or not hatred can
play any part in it. I have elsewhere (2008) considered the roles
of anger and hatred in providing cohesion in the face of potential
self-obliteration. When the existence of the self is profoundly
threatened, perhaps by extreme anxiety, mourning, or depression,
some turn toward anger and hatred, to provide a center that can
hold. Sullivan (1953) considered anger a defense (against anxiety)
that we learn early in our lives, from watching our parents use it.
Perhaps this approach to self-cohesion is partially a product of
limited choices. If other ways to hold the center are made
available, would we rely less on anger and hatred?
Limitations of space dictate that I merely mention a few of the
fascinating issues raised by this extraordinary book.
1. Do analysts have theories that can shed any light on the concept
of the banality of evil? For example, Daniela Cohen (p.62) reported
that in one meeting a German participant said, »I have an ordinary
Nazi mother.« How can we understand this sentence?
2. How can we face our own potential to be a silent bystander to
atrocity? Is there anything new that we, as analysts, can
contribute to insight into the silent bystander?
3. What is the process by which we can lose sight of the
individuality and humanity of another person? For example, Carl
Nedelmann, a German participant, poignantly reports (p. 108) that,
»Just as I lost my eye for the individuality of the Israelis
sitting across from me, their blindness to the present made
faceless Nazis of the 11 easily distinguishable men and women from
Germany who were sitting across from them.«
4. Are there actions that forfeit a person’s right to be considered
an individual and a human being? Jutta Matzner-Eicke, a German
conference participant, stated (p.146) »We, the German members of
this group, have to face the fact, that after all that the Germans
in the time of Nazism made themselves responsible (for, during) the
holocaust we can’t expect to be recognized by the Israeli
colleagues as individuals.«
5. Another very significant concept explored in this book is the
idea that a fear of »false reconciliation« can result in a deadly,
stuck, stasis. While many expressed a wish for reconciliation there
was also a fear that the conference would promote a pretense of
»forgiveness« that was not real. Perhaps the fear of looking like
they were reconciling made some of the Israelis stand further apart
from the Germans than they otherwise might. I think we can easily
recognize clinical versions of this phenomenon. Anyone who has
worked with couples (or been in a relationship themselves!) will
probably resonate with how a stubborn unwillingness to let the
other off the hook can stymie us. Patients and analysts can be
similarly trapped.
This book is a testament to the sheer determination of a remarkable
group of people. It speaks of something in the human spirit that
can’t be extinguished. It deserves more than a place on our library
shelves. It should be passed on to our children.