every person represents the mother.”13 Given the repression of the Oedipus complex, there is no way the individual can find fulfillment; the most he can hope for is to find a place in society, do his work, get married, and raise a family. Neurosis for Freud represented an inability to function normally in society. He recognized that civilization exacted a price, imposed restraints upon the individual, and created discontents. If in an individual case the price was too high, the restraints too severe, the discontents too great, psychoanalysis was available to help the person gain the ego strength to adapt more successfully.
Freud thought that only by repressing the Oedipus complex could one avoid the fate of Oedipus. But, as we saw, that doesn't work. The oedipal conflicts are not resolved by repression. They are only buried in the unconscious, where they operate as a fate to control one's behavior. Reich says, “When Freud said that the Oedipus complex vanishes as a result of castration anxiety, we have to add the following: True it vanishes, but it arises anew in the form of character reactions, which, on the one hand, perpetuate its main features in a distorted form, and are, on the other hand, reaction formations against its basic elements.”14
I agree with Reich. The Oedipus complex vanishes as a conscious phenomenon through repression, but it then becomes active in the unconscious. Consequently, a person will marry someone who, superficially, is the opposite of his or her parent but then be compelled by the complex to treat the spouse as the parent. Another result is the superficial demonstration of the proper filial love and respect to the parent of the same sex while maintaining under the surface a great hostility. In effect, as I shall explain later, each boy marries his mother and each girl marries her father. And, while we do not kill the parent literally as Oedipus did, we do so psychologically by the hatred in our hearts. It is my argument that repressing the Oedipus complex assures that on a psychological level one will share the fate of Oedipus.
2
Fate and Character
The Operation of Fate
I have long been familiar with the Oedipus story, but recently I returned to it with renewed interest because of the role that fate plays in the myth. Consider the fact that both Laius, the father, and Oedipus, the son, consulted the oracle on separate occasions and were foretold the same fate, and that both took steps to avoid that fate. Laius staked his infant son in the field to die; Oedipus left Corinth to avoid killing his father. Yet despite these efforts to avoid their fate, the prediction of the oracle came true. The question that came to my mind was: Did it happen just because they tried to avoid their fate? This question struck me with some force, since I had been aware for some time that one aspect of the neurotic character is the neurotic's inability to accept himself. I realized that the neurotic individual struggles to avoid a feared fate, but by that very effort he ensures the fate he is attempting to escape.
Suppose, for example, that Laius had accepted his fate as prophesied by the oracle. Would the story be different? (Such an acceptance could be part of a religious attitude. If it is the will of the gods, so be it.) If Laius had raised Oedipus as his son, at least one incident in the story could not have occurred. Laius would not have been a stranger to his son and so could not have been killed in a chance encounter on the highway. Had Oedipus accepted his fate and remained in Corinth in obedience to the will of the gods, he could not have married his mother. The “ifs” can change a story, but it is because events happened just as they did that we have a meaningful story of human experience.
Freud had a similar feeling about the Oedipus story as dramatized by Sophocles in his play Oedipus Rex. He says, “The Oedipus Rex is a tragedy of fate. Its tragic effect depends on the conflict between the all powerful will of the gods and the vain efforts of human beings threatened with disaster. Resignation to the divine will, and the perception of one's own impotence, is the lesson which the deeply moved spectator, is supposed to learn from the play.”1 Yet Freud himself was not prepared to accept the inevitability of fate. He believed that “although the oracle placed the same curse on us,” we could avoid the fate of Oedipus by repressing the feelings and memories associated with our infantile incest wishes. But, as I shall show, repression binds the individual to the traumatic situation and programs him to repeat it in later life.
The idea that the attempt to escape fate only serves to make that fate more certain is illustrated by John O'Hara in the introduction to his story “Appointment in Samarra.” A servant, sent by his master to buy some provisions in the marketplace at Baghdad, returned in a state of fright. He had been jostled by someone in the crowd, and when he turned, he saw it was Death who appeared to be threatening him. The servant begged his master for a horse so he could flee to Samarra to avoid his fate. The master gave him the horse and the servant took off in all haste. Then the master went to the marketplace, where he saw Death. He approached and asked why he had threatened his servant. I didn't threaten him, said Death. My arm went up in surprise to see him here in Baghdad because I have an appointment with him tonight in Samarra.
We often say that fate overtakes a person or that a person's fate catches up with him. I have said that such actions ensure one's fate. But ensure may be too strong a word. Invite seems more appropriate. For example, if a person walks about with a chip on his shoulder, someone is sure to try to knock it off. Certain attitudes naturally invite certain responses from others. Here is a simple clinical example. I had a woman patient who complained that she was never able to “get a man.” Her relationships with men all proved to be temporary. One day in the course of a session, she remarked, “My mother constantly told me, ‘No man would ever want you.’” It was as if her mother had laid a curse upon her that determined her fate, for she had reached middle age without having found a man who would make a commitment to her. But my patient played an active, if unconscious, role in creating her fate. Believing what her mother said, she clutched and clung to any man who showed an interest in her. She didn't do this in an obvious way, but by being very attentive and helpful to the man. The result, however, was always the same, for she could not hide her desperation. The man would become wary of being trapped and back away. Thus, it turned out that her mother's prophecy seemed to come true.
There is another way of looking at the operation of fate. The defenses we erect to protect us create the very condition we are trying to avoid. Thus, when someone builds a castle to protect his liberty, he ends up as a prisoner in his own castle because he dares not leave it. Similarly, one cannot assure peace by amassing arms, because armies by their very nature lead to war. This concept is particularly evident in the psychological defenses people develop. For example, the person who out of fear of rejection defends himself by not opening up or reaching out to people isolates himself and ensures by this maneuver that he will always feel rejected. No person is free who is tied to a defensive position. This is true of the neurotic character who erects psychological walls and armors himself muscularly as a protection against possible hurt, only to find that the hurt he feared is locked into his being by this very process.
I had a patient who was humiliated as a child by his father because he wasn't strong enough or athletic enough to compete with his cousins. He was afraid of his father, and he was afraid of the tough kids in his neighborhood. As a result, he felt like a coward. To overcome this feeling he engaged in a strenuous program of body building. He developed and even overdeveloped his muscles until he looked like a strong man. But the effect was to make him muscle-bound-with the emphasis upon the word bound. He was so bound he couldn't express himself. He didn't know how to relate to people. In company he felt awkward and humiliated because he didn't have anything to say. Thus, the humiliation he felt as a child persisted into adulthood. He complained about a lack of feeling, but he had suppressed all feeling in the effort to overcome his fear. Only by accepting his fear and expressing his sadness could he become a real person in his relations with others. This is what therapy helped him do. The attempt to overcome a personality problem by denying it (“I am not going to be afraid”) internalizes the problem and ensures its continuance.
And yet, don't we all try to overcome our weaknesses, our fears, and
