Problems of definition and the “protective”, “wise” unconscious
The task of encapsulating the many, elusive ways in which the conscious and unconscious interact into a neat, universally acceptable metaphor is a seemingly invidious one, given the frequent observation that the conscious and unconscious themselves behave in ways which suggest that they are not self-evident, stable entities or concepts.
Indeed, the boundary between the conscious and unconscious “domains” cannot be neatly or accurately delineated, as it is a boundary that is largely porous and shifting.
Given this daunting state of affairs, most psychodynamic and hypnotherapeutic traditions see the need to apply a simplified, dualistic model to the workings of the human mind (the “conscious” and “unconscious”).
According to this model, the conscious represents the smaller, limited, more “localised” part of a greater, universal “whole”, i.e. the unconscious, which is often seen to be supportive, providing a potentially infinite and universal resource of insight, wisdom and nourishment to the limited, dependent and parochial conscious.
In explaining this “topographical” model to clients, I might find it helpful to quote Hartland, who expresses this notion in the following succinct terms:
“The conscious mind is the part of the mind which thinks, feels and acts in the present… . The unconscious mind is a much greater part of the mind, and normally we are quite unaware of its existence. It is the seat of all our memories, all our past experiences, and indeed of all that we have ever learned. In this respect it resembles a large filing cabinet to which we can refer in order to refresh our memory whenever we need to do so.” (Hartland, 1971, p.13)
As such, the unconscious is seen to possess a wealth of intelligence, knowledge and wisdom beyond the meagre resources of the conscious intellect, not least because it processes information and stimuli in a far less discriminatory way to the conscious mind. Hence, Hartland’s following recommendation: “The power of suggestion is tremendously enhanced when it acts upon the unconscious rather than the conscious mind.” (Hartland, 1971, p.12)
In tandem with this supportive role, the unconscious is often perceived as being equipped with a special awareness of those inclinations, desires, fantasies and memories capable of jeopardizing the stability and well-being of the conscious mind.
According to this model, the unconscious protects the conscious mind, thereby securing the continued health and sanity of the individual: “Erickson: Your unconscious knows how to protect you…. Your unconscious knows what is right and what is good. When you need protection, it will protect you.” (Erickson & Rossi, 1979) In a similar vein, Yapko states:
“Because of the dual nature of the mind (i.e. conscious and unconscious) memories and details that may have been repressed or else simply escaped detection by the conscious mind may not have escaped the unconscious mind.” (Yapko, 1990, p.74)
The dual, sometimes ambiguous role of the unconscious
Yet, on numerous occasions this protective mechanism breaks down, allowing often distressing, debilitating and potentially lethal material to seep into the conscious, leaving the individual feeling helpless and prey to the forces beyond his or her control or comprehension.
This failure of the protective mechanism or shield erected by the unconscious manifests itself in the excessive rumination and disquiet seen in obsessive clients or in the nightmares and flashbacks experienced in cases of post-traumatic stress disorders.
In this respect, the conscious and unconscious modalities of human behaviour exhibit an obvious analogy with physical illness, an analogy I would find particularly useful when explaining to clients the nature of conscious/unconscious interaction in mental illness.
When our bodily functions are in a state of healthy, stable equilibrium, we are largely unaware of them. Our cardio-vascular, digestive, endocrinal and respiratory systems generally function outside of our conscious awareness, and only become an issue for our conscious mind when we become ill, or some major vital-organ, cognitive or neurological malfunction or degeneration occurs.
By the same token, unconscious or semi-conscious patterns become problematic symptomatic when some serious emotional, psychological imbalance or malfunction urgently needs addressing.
The “limited” nature of the conscious mind is also the key to its efficacy as a tool for analysis and judgement. The conscious is able carry out its numerous and complex operations, precisely because it can relegate the lion’s share of its information processing to the unconscious. This cooperative interaction between the conscious and the unconscious allows painstakingly mastered skills and behaviours to become habitual, automatic and “effortless”. As Yapko puts it:
“Memories in the form of powerful learnings from the client’s unconscious mind can be used skilfully to make available to the person the resources she requires to handle her life in the desired way.” (Yapko, 1990, p. 84)
Common analogies for the interaction of conscious and unconscious: driving and changing keyboards
An obvious example I would use with a client is the process of learning to drive. As a learner, the client would no doubt have had to make a conscious effort to master the complex synchronization of turning the ignition, engaging the clutch and gently depressing the accelerator pedal, but now they can perform such an action automatically, without thinking.
Yet, there are many instances in which these unconsciously appropriated skills and memories appear to behave in ways diametrically opposed to the changing goals and interests of the conscious. A habitual pattern of thought, feeling or behaviour – which may have evolved in the client’s past to respond to a particular situation, predicament or need – may now prove to be maladaptive, undermining the client’s self-worth and ability to function healthily and effectively as a confident, well-adjusted and fulfilled human being.
To this end, certain “unconscious” patterns or habits would need to be reframed in the light of the “conscious”, or rendered “conscious”.
An innocuous example I would provide when explaining to a client how certain, once-useful “autopilot” functions or behaviours can easily become maladaptive and disruptive is my own experience of having regularly to switch between two different types of computer keyboard.
Because I almost always have to rely on a German PC keyboard in my work setting, when I get home and start touch-typing on my MacBook purchased in the US, I invariably have to pay conscious attention to the “automated” keyboard shortcuts I use, for fear of surreal typos creeping into my writing. On average, it takes me about an hour to naturally re-adjust to using a US keyboard fluently.
Text: © Jan Peters, 2009/2022
REFERENCES
Erickson, M. & Rossi E.L., 1979. Hypnotherapy – An Exploratory Casebook. New York: Irvington
Hartland, J., 1971. Medical and Dental Hypnosis and its Clinical Applications, Second Edition. London: Ballière Tindall
Heap, M. & Aravind, K. 2002. Hartland’s Medical & Dental Hypnosis, Fourth Edition. Edinburgh: Churchill, Livingstone, Elsevier