On the Pleasure of Belonging: Reflections on the History of Belonging in Psychoanalysis and the Papers in This Issue

by Victoria Malkin PhD

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This essay explores how psychoanalysis conceptualizes the desire that animates our entry into groups, and underlies our belonging. Psychoanalysts belong to a movement started by Freud and in whose history we remain embedded. As analysts we embody a legacyof a movement based on an ideal of truth that allows for splitting and exclusions. Freud’s history of group dynamics draws a pessimistic vision of an inevitable repetition. This essay charts the ways in which psychoanalysis helps us explore the paradox of belonging and asks how we might find ways to counteract the destructive pull that undermines its possibilities.


     This sixth volume of The Candidate, “Belonging,” appears after a hiatus during which the group has been working through its own question of belonging since leaving its original home at the Institute for Psychoanalytic Education at NYU and creating its own space in which to belong. Our interest lies in exploring this concept, which remains mostly outside of our psychoanalytic lexicon. What psychic work does it take to belong? Analysts might be skeptical about the overt longing the concept announces. Yet, in his quest to uncover what we are forced to renounce when we enter into our social bond, Freud is implicitly always addressing the question of how we navigate belonging. In Civilization and Its Discontents (1930, pp. 23-28), Freud reiterates how suffering derived from our interpersonal relationships is our most problematic source of pain. He provides a poignant meditation on how to escape this pain with a list that moves from drugs, yoga, intellectual work, imagination, becoming a hermit, and finally religion – solutions that are an homage to solitude in some form or another as a way to escape our frustrated desire and longings.

     In Group Psychology and the Analysis of the Ego (1921), Freud locates our origins in the group, first manifested as the horde (pp. 90-100). For Freud, civilization moves individuals progressively towards establishing themselves as separate, able to withstand the group psychology that threatens to trap them and leave them powerless. Our groups are shot through with eros, which both ties us together and tears us apart. The more we desire to belong to the group, the stronger the regression that binds us to it. Freud translates our wish to belong into an expression of infantile needs alongside a leader to whom we submit and, therefore, who always will embody a fantasy about the primal father we both love and murder.

     From this reading, belonging for Freud might be no more than a displacement of narcissistic needs onto a fantasy of a group, a desire for unity or a flight from the loneliness of separation into the oceanic oneness for which Freud could find little use. The papers in this issue all, in one way or another, show belonging as always incomplete, something never fully accomplished. Psychoanalysis suggests that the longing called forth in belonging is not only impossible to fulfill but underlies a continual misrecognition and the potential for a narcissistic wound. Freud, at the turn of the 20th century, makes clear this underlying fantasy of belonging, which continues to exert its power a century later; belonging is now advocated as an obvious solution for our sense of alienation. It is popular currency in contemporary political debates that appeal to identity politics as societies grapple with questions of immigration, exclusion, and multiculturalism. This political scene exemplifies what psychoanalysis made manifest over a century ago – that belonging exists in the realm of desire; its fantasy permits us an imaginary where our social problems could be solved if it were only achieved.

     In proposing an issue on “Belonging,” we wanted to capture this paradox of belonging, and dig deeper to expose the desire that animates the demand to belong without assuming that it merely acts to disguise our infantile needs. The discussion among the authors provides us with a broader way to think about the desire to belong that permeates us all. As psychoanalysts, we are witness to our own case study on belonging. All of us have taken the path to become psychoanalysts and have grappled with our desire to belong as analysts to a community of others.  What are our fantasies and desires when we take on the title of psychoanalyst? Where and to whom do we belong? As analysts, we enter into institutional arrangements with relations of authority and power. We are confronted with an authority that legitimates our desire, while we enter into a group and its history based on its own genealogies of inclusions, exclusions and claims to truth in the name of belonging.


Freud and Group Psychology

     From a sociological vantage point, the group is the core of social action; there can be no social life without social cohesion and belonging. Sociology grappled with the nature of the group and its possibilities, and its potential to generate change or self-transformation. In the early sociological imaginary, Max Weber and Emile Durkheim explored this question. Both men saw the group as an interplay of rationality and irrationality, but assumed there were ideal groups that could transcend irrationality, and by doing so, generate a social good. Even if human nature was seen as egotistical and selfish, the group in its ideal type (Weber) allowed for a better version of humanity. This was the story of the enlightened subject, not the psychoanalytic subject, split and haunted by unconscious desires. For Weber, an ideal group in modernity could consist of rational self-interested actors, while charisma (through prophets, revolutionaries and shamans) effected change in moments of social breakdown, leading to a consolidation of a new (rational) group. Leaders could be good or destructive in relation to the group but their power lay not in the power of their ideas but in their charisma and the possibility of emotional contagion in moments when tradition loses hold. Durkheim, less focused on man the rational actor, explored group action as an expression of a “social fact.” Social acts for Durkheim were to be understood without recourse to individual experience, as he explored in his seminal work on suicide. For Durkheim,  a “collective effervescence” transports the group. Such enthusiasm, understood by Durkheim to be irrational, enables a shared affective experience, which then comes to be explained after the fact through rationalization – for example, by religion. Group vitality can trump ego-driven desires. Sociology begins with a group that has generative potential; it allows for belonging and growth, for transcendence and possibility, and in its best form overcomes man’s egotistical or self-driven interest. Here, irrationality is not necessarily in the service of destruction. Group dynamics and belonging can provide a source of meaning and a reasonable social good. Freud, writing his essay on group psychology in the shadow of German Nationalism and on the eve of Fascism, finds no solace in the group; hence, he can only fear belonging and reverses a sociological logic. Beginning with the 19th century crowd psychologists, as represented by Le Bon among others, Freud argues that the group will wreak havoc with our accomplishments, even groups (such as the Church) that masquerade as providing higher forms of ethical and moral values. All groups contain the seeds of our destruction, a throwback to the psychological dynamics that were part of our origins. He begins with the terrifying vision of the crowd, porous and laden with affect – a virus that overwhelms our system and renders us helpless to suggestion and hysteria. This is the vision that inhabits Freud’s entry into group psychology. Continuing his work from Totem and Taboo (1913) and consumed with the question of authority and conscience, which now superseded his earlier concern with sexuality per se, Freud explored the idea of the group as irrational, destined to carry us into the underwater of our most primitive desires for authority and submission, where our weakness leads us towards susceptibility – where group relations represent emotional contagion and we remain hypnotized by our desire for the leader.

     Freud describes a group psychology that is a psychological repetition and acting out. He points us back to man, who in his first iteration lived in the horde and was ruled by the primal father (as opposed to a wandering herd held together by an instinct to unite and follow). Group psychology and individual psychology are both present at our origins, he tells us. Individual psychology manifests in the despot who takes what he wants until a band of brothers escape and then return to instigate the original murder/patricide. Freud begins sociality with a crime, and in it lies a guilt and dread that accompanies us into civilization. Our contemporary forms of belonging echo back to the primal father and our original sin. All groups, however civilized, contain the horde; all groups trick us, leading us astray from rationality. The law, and our desire for it, represents a substitute for the father, not a rational calculation to protect us from our worst selves. Unlike Weber or Durkheim, Freud believed libidinal ties lurk behind rational explanations that conceal a devotion to a leader. The group and its leader are eroticized; the leader, a “Nietzschian superhero who was there at the start of history ” (Freud 1921, p. 93), lacks conflicts and leads with narcissism. Meanwhile, for his followers:

     The mutual tie between members of a group is in the nature of an identification…based on an important emotional common property, and we may suspect that this common property lies in the nature of the tie with the leader (1921, p. 66).

     Belonging, as described by Freud here, is animated by identifications and idealizations that are no more than seductions. Leaders have everything from sexual prowess to power; members of the group belong by virtue of their weakness. Our slavish love for our leader is compared by Freud to a hypnotic relation. A leader embodies our ego-ideal; group members are identified with one another through this relationship to their leader. This shared identification masks the envy, hostility and competition inherent within and demands equal treatment for all members of the group. Groups are fragile systems that mask the ambivalence and envy percolating underneath. The group repeats our entry into the family where we identify with what we want to be (father or mother) when we cannot have what we want. Object-love is exchanged for identification. The leader takes the reins and we follow. Relinquishing our fragile separation and autonomy, proving we are not really masters of our own house, we regress to a state of primitive longing and desire. For Freud, belonging is an infantile state and being in the group is akin to being in love. Being part of a group in its worst form leads to:

…weaknessof intellectual ability, the lack of emotional restraint, the incapacity for moderation and delay, the inclination to exceed every limit in the expression of emotion and to work it off completely in the form of action … an unmistakable picture of regression to an earlier stage such as we are not surprised to find among savages and children (1921, pp. 81-82).

     An individual in a group is subjected to its influence to what is often a profound alteration in mental activity. His emotions become extraordinarily intensified, while his intellectual ability markedly reduced. Both processes being evidently in the direction of an approximation to the other individuals in the group (1921, p. 33).

     Individuality is lost when we belong, as we are dragged back towards our irrational excess. There are two ways to escape this weakness: through separation and sublimation of neurotic wishes, or through the emergence of ambivalence that might sustain a rebellion. We rebel because we hate and fear authority but not for the good of the group. But rebellion is doomed to fail because it will always install another leader to whom we submit (Edmundson 2007). The group is never an achievement. Our best work happens outside of it:

As regards to intellectual work it remains a fact, indeed, that great decisions in the realm of thought and momentous discoveries and solutions to problems are only possible to an individual, working in solitude. … it remains an open question, moreover, how much the individual thinker or writer owes to the stimulation of the group (1921, p. 25).

     Freud conceptualizes the group and its social relations as mechanisms of authority and repetitions of neurotic conflicts (Rieff 1959, p. 245). Revolutions are dismantled and transformed into conflicts and deceits, while belonging is ascribed to false ideals. Social movements are now a historical enactment doomed to repeat. If psychoanalysis provides the cure to this repetition, it is only insofar as it brings our wishes into the light to warn us against their enactment. At the end of his life, Freud refused to draw a road map towards collective life and belonging that could sidestep these dynamics; given the catastrophe he surveyed in his final years, it is not surprising he would offer us a vision of an inevitable history that traps us in its repetition, offering us at best an option of the solitary pursuit of pleasure as opposed to collective values and growth. 


Belonging and Identity

     Contemporary identity politics, when predicated on the possibility of belonging, is a failed project for the divided (psychoanalytic) subject – a failure because of a reliance on false identifications and unconscious desire. Yet we remain surrounded by examples of social action based on this ideal. The political sphere leads the way in appropriating belonging as a potential imaginary and championing it as the motor for a collective action pursued through identity. Even a postmodern manifesto that heralds fragmented or contingent identities still allows for a rational subject that can choose and rebel against social identities, and use these choices to resist categorizations. Belonging in this realm is prescribed as liberatory, even when imagined through the unity of a group whose existence is predicated on an excluded other. This unified subject, rejected by psychoanalysis, belongs without ambivalence but with unequivocal belief. Psychoanalysis asks us to question such an identity politics that denies difference, or masks a devotion to the leaders (or their ideals). It reminds us that a subject’s unconscious desire will undermine this very desire to belong because of the ambivalence that exists underneath a collective identification.

     Freud remained locked into his phylogenic fantasy of human psychology. Social life contained the seeds of our early history (so that evolutionary and developmental history converge). If his assertion that “groups represent primitive man and children” is easy to dismiss as a misguided fantasy that civilization followed a clear developmental trajectory, the power of the group and the seduction of the promise of belonging are impossible to ignore. While Freud locates the power in the idea of the primal father and the subsequent identifications, Lacan pushes us to see belonging as intrinsic to our becoming subjects. Lacan locates subjectivity as constituted in the three registers of the symbolic, imaginary and real. Our identity is largely produced through the symbolic and the imaginary where we take in outside images (as in the mirror) or discourses (the symbolic). The subject comes to be through the Other and our desire is located in its (fantasied) demand. We make sense of ourselves through the webs of meaning supplied by the socio-symbolic system. We see ourselves, in particular our most lovable (and narcissistically pleasing) image of ourselves, in the eyes of the Other. But in this sense, we are mired in misrecognition. Our sense of unity is false (as in the unity supplied by the mirror) and hides what we lack, while our symbolic system will always fail to really capture what we are capable of. Our experience can never fully be symbolized and there is a portion that remains outside of this (the real). We are constituted through the Other. In this sense, our subjectivity emerges in this intersubjective field, but we can never be represented through it, we are subject to misrepresentation. If desire animates belonging, the pull, the affective strength that we seem to invest in these images of our self as constituted through the Other, suggests a jouissance that propels it. There is a pleasure that permeates our desire for recognition, that leads us towards belonging, however inevitable it is we will be misled – confronted always with the gap between the subject and its outline in the mirror, the symbol and the symbolized. Lacanian theory evokes a way of grasping for belonging that goes beyond an infantile need or weakness. Belonging is something that we strive for (as with Freud) but can never really attain. Its emotional pull towards a fantasy of unity or completeness will never represent our desire even though we keep pushing towards it.

     Freud tells us we relinquish our ego-ideal when we belong and that social identities lead us to lose our individuality in exchange for a leader’s recognition. For Lacan, we always engage belonging as desire is oriented through the Other, who constitutes our ego-ideal; but we are trapped through this Other’s gaze, which we need to dismantle as we continue to follow our desire.


The Psychoanalytic Movement

     Freud would spend much of his later years devoted to his exploration of authority and its discontents, and the difficulties that we face as a group. He did this at the same time he built his psychoanalytic movement and openly embraced his leadership with what might be the same lack of conflict he imagines in the Nietzschian superhero of group psychology; “Even today no one can know better then I do what psychoanalysis is, and precisely what should be called psychoanalysis,” proclaimed Freud in his On the History of a Psychoanalytic Movement (1914, p. 7). He makes clear that he alone invented psychoanalysis, and lest we think he was unduly influenced by others who came before him: “I owe the charge of making my discovery to my not being well-read,” he asserts and then compares himself to Robinson Crusoe: “My splendid isolation was not without its advantages and charms. I did not have to read any publications nor listen to any ill- informed opponents, I was not subject to influence from any quarter, there was nothing to hustle me” (1914, p. 22). Freud claims not just his ownership, but absolute leadership of the movement, and methodically tears down his defectors (and previous friends and followers) Adler, Rank and Jung and labels their dissent as resistance and/or lack of scientific rigor as they failed to acknowledge the core findings of psychoanalysis. Freud in essence gives psychoanalysis an origin myth. If one looks to his essay to ask what attributes he gives his movement that enable it to avoid the trappings of the group psychology he would describe six years later, it is through an appeal to an ideal of its value as truth – ultimately its scientific status. For Freud, always the Enlightenment thinker, psychoanalysis is based on a truth claim that is science, and science will separate it from belief and the group dynamics that belief entails. With this, Freud initiates psychoanalysis into its own paradox: its fight to be established as a truth is what separates it from the destructive dynamics he will apply to the group formed around false beliefs and despot leaders. This fight for “a truth” in psychoanalysis is a key part of its history of splittings based on truth claims, which continues today, perpetuating the very same group dynamics he so aptly described.

     The idea of the discipline of psychoanalysis as a complete truth based on science seems outdated to our postmodern skepticism, even if we find scientific evidence for some of its aspects. But outside of the tired dichotomy of science or hermeneutics, is our history of the psychoanalytic movement and its origins that underwrites our development as analysts. Freud left us a movement aspiring to an ideal of scientific truth to legitimize its power to resist its own destruction. Today we see how easily it devolves into a war of leadership and exclusions. Therein we see our own repetitions – and as a group we are encased in this history. Our own problem of belonging enacts our paradox: a history that began with an ideal of psychoanalysis as truth (in science) in fact idealized as a way to permit us to supersede the belonging generated through false ideals and groups. And yet, psychoanalysis is also the tool handed us by Freud that allows us to dismantle our own beginnings (as a group and as psychoanalysts) and not be condemned to repeat.


 The Papers in This Issue

     Few of us can live on an island and return with a corpus of works equivalent to the Standard Edition. We are all faced with the paradox of belonging, our desire for it and our disappointments. Thinking about belonging demands we go beyond a simple critique that reduces it to identifications and submission or celebrates its promise. The papers in this issue all do this in different ways; some authors use their personal history to explore how they have come to navigate belonging and survive its vicissitudes, others explore the institutions and cultures that set up ideals for our belonging and explore how they either constrict or enable a way to belong that is more than just repressive or narcissistically gratifying. While providing a range of themes and debates, they lend themselves to exploration of three main themes that resonate throughout the issue:

 The Subject of Belonging

     Some of the papers question the very notion of who or what is it that belongs. If we think beyond the idea of identifications, then we are faced with this question of the subject who belongs. Those taking up this question are the Lacanians, as they themselves explore the very nature of the subject. Guy Le Gaufey takes us on a journey through the philosophy of logic to show how the transformation of a single element “a” takes place once put into the set and surrounded by parentheses (a). These parentheses are like the lasso that contains or gives a new form, just as the mirror gives its outline. By evoking the metaphor of the lasso and its ability to transform what it holds together (in logic or in the imaginary), Le Gaufey evokes the uncertainty of who belongs. Using a Lacanian perspective, Richard Klein characterizes belonging as a “swindle” and reminds us that, for Lacan, an analysis needs to end at that place of absolute difference, where the analyst never is mistaken for an ego-ideal, compared with the despotic leader of the group. Analysis needs to dismantle identifications, and analysands enter the zone of absolute difference as they encounter their own desire. Klein highlights the possibilities of language as anchoring the subject, where he or she can survive in a zone of absolute difference that does not end up in psychosis. Using Joyce, he describes a form of heretic creativity that allows for subjectification. Finally, Martine Fourré, working in West Africa, looks at the subject who comes into being under different cultural systems where paternity and the father play a very different role.

Leaders, Groups and Ideals

     Other authors use Freud’s group psychology to explore the question of our yearning for the leader that accompanies our belonging. Juliet Flower MacCannell focuses on the question of the artificial group that Freud describes (the army and the Church) as a particular group formation and asks why there appears to be a proliferation of this type of group today. When belonging means an acceptance of one version of truth (either through the word or the leader), we are returned to the question of submission to the word/leader. While MacCannell offers more diagnosis then solution, Todd Dean, in his personal essay of growing up in the Church of Christ, gives us more latitude. Unlike Klein, who leaves us with the genius/heretic, Dean explores a childhood that demanded adherence to the literal “word” of his church, which demanded absolute fealty, but within this he saw various forms of skepticism lived out in different ways – such as his grandmother’s marriage to a divorced man, and his father’s eventual departure from the church. Skepticism enabled him to question the relationship of the “word to the thing” while still allowing him a sort of uneasy belonging – but he sees this as the only wayto find out who he is in the context of his symptom. In their review of the film “The German Doctor,” Manya Steinkoler and Jessica Datema show how the desire to belong goes awry – not only because of its fantasy of unity, but because this is played out in the body, the real (from a Lacanian viewpoint). Most importantly, they argue that belonging always contains the uncanny, seducing us with the possibility of familiarity under which lurks the unfamiliar. The wishes and identifications that lead us to belonging, which we hope will make us whole, can leave us literally in tatters; the searing image in the film of broken up dolls to be sutured by mad men reminds us of how we can be led astray by this desire and ultimately always misled through its uncanniness.

Psychoanalysis, Institutions and Belonging

     Many of the articles touch in some way or another on psychoanalysis and institutes, on how psychoanalysis has generated a history of exclusions and devotions to leaders and truth- telling that annihilates the other. Angelo Villa, along with Orshi Hunyady and Pascal Sauvayre, have written articles that engage these questions head on. They all explore the idea of belonging and how its origins in the family can engender traumatic repetitions once entering into the psychoanalytic institution. Villa takes the experience one step further by locating the problem in the training analysis – where he sees a potential for the identifications and transferences to be revived in the institutional setting that demands allegiance and loyalty to particular founders. Rejecting the identifications that animate institutes and their lineages, he advocates a group that is formed around the ideal of work to counter the groups that are formed through false loyalties and identifications, under the specter of the primal father, or as coined by Villa, the discourse of the despot.  “Include Me Out, Please!” is his way of being involved, of signifying the ideal distance in a group for him.

     Beginning in a different place Hunyady and Sauvayre explore belonging from a sense of its unachieved possibility, which they think is repressed by a belonging (to) that is structured through hierarchy and order and that demands compliance. Their premise is that we begin our lives in a group and seek ways to belong that mean we will always be in conflict with those parts of ourselves that were rejected or unloved. They imagine a group that feels hopeful where we are able to master these experiences as opposed to repeating them. Like Villa, the institute is seen as generating a more hierarchical experience, demanding a Faustian bargain where we comply in exchange for membership (and hence recognition). But they ask us to dig deeper and find the repressed meaning of belonging, the ways in which we can belong (with), a belonging that allows for difference and assumes it is only in difference that we can have the fullest experience of our self. If Villa prescribes the work, they imagine a changing and alternating power structure that dissolves and transforms and that is committed to examining the historical context in which truth claims are made. They envision a possibility of being part of the whole without being subsumed by it.

     Orna Ophir, the lone(ly) Kleinian in the issue, provides an account of belonging that is a struggle with the loneliness that inhabits our core. But it is not the Lacanian loneliness, where our lack leads us to the place of absolute difference. Ophir asks us to tolerate our loneliness in exchange for belonging. Belonging is always under threat when we need to disown our bad objects and highjack the depressive position. She reminds us we have to tolerate our bad parts and not project them onto others, for it is these projections that make belonging even farther out of reach. When we accept our bad objects, we have the capacity for gratitude and love. We can belong in spite of our loneliness. Joining a group always revives the possibility of these externalizations. Communities can create enemies inside and out. For Ophir, the ideal psychoanalytic group requires the possibility of being lonely in the group, of forming a community that allows for the difference. Unlike Hunyady and Sauvayre, it is not that the group can enable lost parts of the self to emerge, it is a group that can allow for each of us with our own loneliness, and aware of our singularity, to confront the other without annihilating it or the difference it represents. This is what Ophir sees as an ethical stance towards belonging.

     The question of psychoanalysis as truth also comes into play in the short essay by Emma Lieber, playing on words and language with a personal meditation that conceptualizes our identification with psychoanalysis as a belonging anchored in the potential transformational possibilities of language. As psychoanalysts, our belief in language and its capacity to, in essence, give us the slip, frees us from the absolute certainty that a notion of psychoanalysis as truth-telling would advocate. If Lieber uses language as a way to question what it means to be an analyst, Ingo Lambrecht (a practicing psychoanalyst and a shaman) rips the psychoanalytic movement from its objectivist cover and asks us to consider the ways in which our profession and training are set up as a culture of self-transformation that relies as much on belief as does shamanism. He puts belief into the same realm as science, refusing to create a simple hierarchical relationship between the two, and invites us to consider that our own belonging as psychoanalysts is as much predicated on our rituals and practices as other things. He notes that it is these same practices that give us the comfort of belonging and the protections against vulnerability and ultimately annihilation.


Final Thoughts

    If some of the authors here provide their own solution to the paradox of belonging, they challenge us to come up with our own solution as to how we might find ways to belong that leave us less vulnerable to the group dynamics of which Freud warns or to succumb to the illusions and disappointments that belonging contains. If we take Freud at his word, we are given little hope that one can belong without ending up prey to one’s own destructive unconscious dynamics. If Freud gave us science and solitude as his solutions, we are all left to find our own singular ways to live in this paradox, especially in our encounter with psychoanalysis. Psychoanalysis can no longer embrace its identity as truth-telling – not because it is a lie, but because to advocate truth is to set up our descent into group dynamics. In finding our way to belong, we might take psychoanalysis at its word by finding our own understanding of the word. This singularity needs to be contained in the collective reading.

    Belonging essentially challenges us to entertain our desire to be in the group and the work this entails. But in that work, as in the work of mourning Freud gave us before, perhaps we also might find our new beginnings, or our pleasure, not just our pain, in the social. Belonging, in homage to our origins, contains the pleasure as much as it can fall into destruction and prohibition. If some of the authors here have found ways to belong, it seems that in spite of their disappointment, they can maintain their pleasure in the group and not just survive through denial or repression. With fun in the work, and love in the relation, perhaps we might have a chance to belong – a libidinal encounter that can counter the unconscious forces that would drive us to destroy the potential that Freud might have found unthinkable or impossible to sustain as he looked out at the eruption of aggression and annihilation to come. But that does not mean that we should give up.



     The Candidate Journal operates with a collective board, without the work and input of the whole group this issue would not exist. Each board member contributed in his or her own way and brought their energy to the final volume, allowing a freedom of belonging I hope permitted some pleasure in the work. This issue would not have come together without the members of the editorial board and their participation, for which I am very thankful.  



Edmundson, M. (2007). The Last Days of Sigmund Freud. The Legacy of His Last Days. New York: Bloomsbury USA.

Freud, S. (1913). Totem and taboo. Standard Edition 13:1-161.

Freud, S. (1914). On the history of the psycho-analytic movement. Standard Edition 14:3-66.

Freud, S. (1921). Group psychology and the analysis of the ego. Standard Edition 18:65-143.

Freud, S. (1930). Civilization and its discontents. Standard Edition 21:57-146.

Reiff, P. (1959). Freud: The Mind of the Moralist. Garden City, NY: Anchor Books/Doubleday and Company, 1961.


Address correspondence to:

Victoria Malkin, PhD
80 East 11th Street, Suite 510
New York, NY 10003

Victoria Malkin, PhD, is a licensed psychoanalyst in private practice in New York City. She is a member of the faculty of the National Psychological Association for Psychoanalysis and a member of the William Alanson White Institute. Dr. Malkin is also an anthropologist and an adjunct professor at the New School for Public Engagement.


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