DISCOVERY 



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entirely concerned with conscious processes, whereas 

 the new psychology is concerned with that infinitely 

 larger part of the mind which is the subject of this 

 paper, the Unconscious. 



We may begin by asking, What is the unconscious ? 

 Quite simph', the answer is that it comprises every- 

 thing that is not present to consciousness at any given 

 moment. Round about the immediate objects of 

 consciousness there is a semiconscious fringe which 

 may at will become the focus of consciousness, so that 

 on this level there is a shifting interchange between 

 the conscious and the unconscious. For example, we 

 will suppose I am engaged in balancing my weekly 

 accounts. My conscious thought is concentrated on 

 that, yet I am not entirely unaware of the room in 

 which I sit, of some slight physical discomfort, of the 

 fact that it is growing dark, and so on. If I choose, 

 or even without my will, any part of this fringe can 

 force itself into a more prominent position and displace 

 my conscious focus. But below this lies an intangible 

 barrier known as the " threshold," beneath which we 

 come to the unconscious. 



There is a well-known illustration by a noted author 

 of the human psyche as an iceberg. Above the surface 

 of the watera small portion — about an eighth — is visible, 

 but the vast bulk lies below the waves. With this 

 illustration in our minds let us attempt a short explora- 

 tion, imagining a vertical shaft or passage through the 

 iceberg. We have passed through the upper part 

 representing the conscious mind, and we find ourselves 

 below the threshold, or, in this case, the water. We 

 are in the submerged part of the iceberg. What do 

 we find there ? 



First, we find Memories. In the topmost layer, 

 if I may so express it, we find our recent memories, 

 the happenings or the thoughts of a day or a year ago. 

 Most, probably, of these can be recalled with an effort, 

 though many have sunk deeper and cannot be remem- 

 bered. But as we penetrate further, we find that our 

 whole life, as comprised in thought, word, deed, or 

 event, has been preserved and is intact. A fraction 

 of this mass can on occasion rise into"consciousness, 

 for the threshold is permeable and admits from below 

 whatever is able to come up ; but on the lower levels 

 we find the forgotten past which does not and cannot 

 rise, because it has been repressed from the conscious 

 mind, either intentionally or in obedience to its own 

 laws. This is the material which reappears in dreams 

 and phantasies, usually in a disguised and symbolic 

 form. 



Secondly, we find Phantasies in the unconscious. 

 These are chiefly concerned with desires which have 

 no opportunity of being gratified in the conscious 

 life, either because their nature is incompatible with 

 the moral standard of the individual, or for lack of 



opportunity. These memories, phantasies, desires, do 

 not lie in the unconscious like mud or debris at the 

 bottom of a pool. On the contrary, they are living 

 and active forces influencing the person's conscious 

 life without his knowledge or will, and at times they 

 can be animated by a terribly destructive energy 

 causing neurosis, obsessions, and insanity itself. 



This part of the unconscious is called by Dr. Jung, 

 the leader of the Zurich school, the Personal Uncon- 

 scious, because everything contained in it is to be found 

 in the person's own life. Its chief characteristics are 

 its infantiUty and its compensatory character. 



The personal unconscious is infantile in nature in 

 so far as it contains repressed matericds, because our 

 whole education is intended to make us " put away 

 childish things," and we put them into our unconscious. 

 The primitive, the child, and the unconscious think 

 in the same way — by analogy. This is like That, there- 

 fore This is That, and is represented symbolically as 

 such in the dream. Our childish passions, jealousies, 

 wishes, outgrown in our conscious life, are to be found 

 here. Above all our childish phantasies, our own 

 private myths, are in the unconscious. 



The second chief characteristic is compensation. 

 Whatever value or lack of value is to be found in the 

 conscious, its opposite is in the unconscious. Every 

 individual possesses the germ at least of every human 

 quality, but the aim of our civilisation has been to 

 develop certain of these which we have elected to 

 call " good," and repress others which we call " bad." 

 Hence the compensation of the unconscious which 

 tends to equilibration. Is a given indi\'idual a saint 

 outwardly ? If so, he has probably exaggerated certain 

 qualities by the process of violently repressing others, 

 which below the threshold maintain a life of their own 

 disturbing to sainthood. Or has he given the rein to 

 every desire and vicious impulse in his outward life ? 

 In that case, the lost values are below. In whatever 

 direction the conscious life is one-sided, the unconscious 

 tips the beam in the opposite one. Of course, the ideal 

 is the mean in which conscious and unconscious act 

 together in harmony, making one-sidedness impossible. 

 It is not true that psj'cho-analysis, by bringing up from 

 the unconscious material which, while it is there, is 

 harmful to the individual, thus lets loose instincts 

 and passions, to the great danger of the individual 

 and of society. It is surely better that the saint, 

 for example, should know by experience that he 

 shares in the tendencies of the sinner, and, while con- 

 trolling them, learn to live with them humbly, than 

 that they should affect him from within unknown and 

 unsuspected. 



This short exploration of the personal unconscious 

 by no means exhausts its nature, but we must hurry 

 on into what lies around and beneath. We are now 



