The Unconscious, a Horse Egg?

based on an Hungarian folktale.

Two villagers were crossing a field when they came across… a strange ‘something’. Neither knew was it was. They had never seen such a thing. One prodded it with a toe. The other turned it over with a stick. Between them they gathered the courage to see if it could be lifted and decided to take it back to the village council. Let them decide.

The Council were mightily perplexed. Despite their great experience and vast knowledge, none of them had ever seen such a thing. They went and asked the Mayor, known for his great wisdom. At great length he announced that the thing must be.. an egg. The others were amazed, of course, how wise, it must be an egg.

But what kind of egg? A dragon? Or maybe a griffin? Someone cleverly remembered that here had been a horse in the field, so… it must be a horse egg! Of course! But what to do with the horse egg and how to hatch it? The local horses all seemed too stupid to know what to do. So they elected to take turns to sit on the egg and hatch it themselves.

Eventually news spread and people from the neighbouring village came to have a look. One small boy observed that the egg had a bad smell and poked fun at them all saying that their egg had gone off. The villagers were peeved at being so humiliated and decided to take revenge. They took the egg to the top of a hill, wanting to roll it down on top of their rude neighbours. But the egg went off course, breaking up in a gorse bush half way down. This frightened a rabbit who had been sleeping there. It took off at great speed. ‘Look!’ they cried, ‘there goes the baby horse.’

When we speak about the Unconscious there is a tendency to assume we all mean the same thing. Jung’s break with Freud was, at least in part, because he discovered they had very different ideas about it. Likewise, though we analysts and lay persons alike all use the term ‘the unconscious’, it seems incumbent upon us to wonder about what we actually mean. Jung’s core definition is, “The unconscious is the totality of all psychic phenomena that lack the quality of consciousness.” CW 6 (Psychological Types), ¶837

Does this make us any the wiser? Is it enough to say that night is everything that is not day, or to refine further by saying that sometimes you can see your hand in front of your face but sometimes not? Moreover, considerable disagreement exists between different Jungian groups which makes a cohesive definition all the more difficult. The more archetypally oriented have a mytho-poetic slant which feels qualitatively different from the more developmentally inclined.

Anthony Stevens says, “The unconscious is the repository of the inherited potentialities of the human psyche.” ((1994), p. 54) This feels very different from von Franz’ definition, “The unconscious is not just a repository of forgotten material but a living, autonomous reality which compensates and corrects the one-sidedness of consciousness.” ((1988), p. 9) Edinger’s definition, “The unconscious is the objective psyche, a reality independent of the personal ego.” (1972), p. 5 which seems qualitatively distinct from Neumann, ‘The unconscious is not only the source of consciousness but also its matrix and its partner.” ((1954), p. xv)

Hillman’s take, “The unconscious is not a place or a container but a perspective, a way of seeing through the imagination.” (1975), p. 23. He emphasises that it is not a hidden layer beneath consciousness but is identical with the imaginal field itself. This feels very different from the developmental perspective of it being a structured psychic system.

To add a further, more philosophically nuanced layer to an already complex conversation, there is the question of whether the term ‘unconscious’ is perhaps a mere literary device. Jung says in the Red Book, ‘the unbounded makes you anxious. Consequently you seek limits and restraints so that you do not lose yourself. You cry out for the word which has one meaning and no other so that you escape boundless ambiguity. The word becomes your God since it protects you from the countless possibilities of interpretation. The word is protective magic..'(p250)

What if we were to refrain from thinking of the unconscious as a noun. Could we dispense with the term altogether? If it is not a natural object does it even exist in any meaningfully describable way? Though this rather feels like rolling the horse egg peevishly down the hill. Are we to disenfranchise the Unconscious simply because it is not ‘a thing’, especially since it is the abundant author of things; dreams, moods, inspiration, memories.

Lao tzu begins the Tao to Ching by saying

‘The Tao that can be told is not the eternal Tao.
The name that can be named is not the eternal name.
The nameless is the beginning of heaven and earth;
the named is the mother of the ten thousand things.’

Analysts want to be taken seriously, feeling obliged by the gravity of our vocation to be rigorous and accountable. And yet it’s difficult not to find ourselves stammering at the edges of the known. In the ‘Birth of Tragedy’, Nietzsche says, “Language, as the organ and symbol of phenomena, can never by any means disclose the innermost heart of things.” We are inevitably like the blind Mullahs from Persian lore trying to describe an elephant from the limited perspective of feeling either the tail or the ear, the trunk or the foot. Concepts must falter when faced with that which transcends them. We are left rather wanting a propitious awe prepared to trade knowing for wonder. The epistemological humility of being able to embrace not knowing is, paradoxically, the precondition for the alchemical opus. Not-knowing is neither passivity nor ignorance, but rather the active psychological stance which allows transformation to occur.

The Narcissism of Small Differences.

There was once a Toad who lived near a pond with a Frog. Every evening Frog would sit on a stone and sing. His voice carried across the water—clear and strong—and all the animals would stop to listen.

Toad heard the singing and thought, I wish I could sing like Frog.

So one night Toad climbed onto a rock and tried. He puffed up his throat and pushed out a sound. But it came out rough and croaky. The crickets stopped chirping. The birds tilted their heads. Toad felt embarrassed.

He practiced again the next night, and the next, trying to copy Frog exactly—how he breathed, how he held his throat, how he shaped the sound. But the more he tried to imitate Frog, the worse he felt. Finally Frog came and sat beside him.

“Why are you trying to sing like me?” Frog asked.

“To be like you,” said Toad.

Frog listened to Toad croak again.

“That is not my song,” Frog said gently. “But it might be yours.”

Given Trump’s campaign promise not to involve America in foreign wars and the often stated conviction that his political rivals would bomb Iran as a means to deflect attention from domestic crises, it does seem a bit strange for us to be witnessing this billion dollar a day conflict unfold, the wish to distract our gaze from the Epstein files not withstanding.

Seen through a psychoanalytic lens it makes more sense. This brief essay will draw upon Freud’s idea of ‘the narcissism of small differences’, in order to explain it. I will draw additionally on Klein, Lacan and Jung.

Conflict, both interpersonal and international, is often accounted for by referring to the concept of projection. This is the attribution to the other of one’s own shadow material with which a person or nation then goes to war, rather than containing the tension of opposites in an interior way. So, for instance, a person might attribute to another their own bitchyness and then attack them for it, rather than hold the uncomfortable tension between the ego ideal of being ever so virtuous, on the one hand, whilst also being perfectly capable of back biting on the other.

But something else is going on here. Whilst there is undoubtedly a shadow component to Hegseth’s invokkkation of extremist Christian rhetoric, so too is there a sense that these two regimes are so much alike that dynamics other than projection seem to be at work. These less obvious realities risk perpetuating the war way beyond the need to export domestic devils.

Freud, who knew only too well from personal experience what it was like to be enviously attacked by his peers, coined the phrase, ‘the narcissism of small differences’, in a 1917 essay â€śConstructions in Analysis”. This concept will help us understand why Trump felt so compelled to commit to a conflict which will almost certainly be instrumental in his own downfall.

The narcissism of small differences refers to the psychological phenomenon where groups or individuals who are very similar to each other exaggerate minor distinctions and then use them as sources of hostility or conflict. In other words, the closer two groups are the more likely they are to fight over tiny differences. Freud observed this in ethnic, cultural, or social contexts, but it also applies to personal relationships. By emphasising tiny differences, people can defend their self-esteem and sense of uniqueness. The phenomenon is paradoxical; the more alike the groups are, the stronger the hostility over small distinctions.

Anthropological accounts of ethnic tribal conflicts abound in such examples but modern ‘civilised’ societies are no less prone to this curious phenomenon. During the renaissance, Italian city-states like Florence, Siena, Pisa, and Lucca, who were all culturally very similar, were often at war with each other over hilariously minor disputes, like who had the right to display a certain heraldic colour on flags, which family had precedence in a local festival procession and which city could collect tolls from a specific bridge or river crossing. Florence and Siena, nearly identical culturally, fought a decades-long war over a disputed valley because both wanted symbolic control of a small hill. Entire armies could be mobilised over turf that was agriculturally insignificant, but prestige, honour, and identity made it a “life-or-death” matter.

In 16th–17th century Europe, during the Protestant Reformation and Catholic Counter-Reformation, Communities of Lutherans, Calvinists, or Catholics in the same towns sometimes persecuted each other without mercy, even though they shared most cultural and social practices. A tiny doctrinal difference, say, whether communion bread should be leavened or unleavened, could trigger riots, exiles, or massacres.

Perhaps the most Pythonesque example is ‘The War of the Oaken Bucket’, fought In 1325, between two nearby Italian city‑states, Bologna and Modena. They were both culturally similar and part of the same regional milieu. They fought a war that famously became associated with a wooden bucket captured from a well. The conflict was rooted in ongoing rivalries between the Guelphs (papal supporters) and Ghibellines (imperial supporters), but the immediate pretext that sparked the battle was the seizure (or alleged theft) of a bucket from Bologna by Modenese forces. The two cities met in battle at Zappolino, resulting in significant casualties, and the bucket ended up as a trophy in Modena where it is still historically displayed.

Mao’s China suffered a similarly absurd epidemic of purges for ‘counter-revolutionary crimes’ within the communist party. Minor differences led to massive internal conflict. Liu Shaoqi and Deng Xiaoping were purged for “capitalist road” tendencies despite being lifelong communists.

During the Cultural Revolution (1966–1976), party members, students, and workers were encouraged to denounce each other for â€śideological errors.” The absurdity of this was that people were accusing long-time comrades and friends of being traitors for things like using the “wrong tone” when quoting Mao, not wearing Mao badges at exactly the right angle, or speaking too politely to someone labeled a “class enemy”.

Students in the Red Guards, who were all ideologically devoted to Mao, formed rival groups. Both groups wore the same Mao badges, read the same books, and repeated the same slogans. Yet they fought violently because of minor stylistic or tactical differences. One group marched clockwise around a city square, the other counter-clockwise. One read Mao aloud slightly faster than the other. The fights sometimes escalated resulting in injury and death.

The narcissism of small differences is ‘the means by which cohesion among the members of the community is made easier.’ (Freud) and describes a psychological tendency which helps strengthen internal group identity threatened by excessive sameness with other groups or individuals. Those differences become a basis for rivalry, hostility, or prejudice.

This form of Narcissism is closely related to envy because both arise most strongly between people or groups that are very similar or close to each other. In psychoanalytic thinking, envy intensifies when the other person is almost like oneself but possesses something slightly ‘other’, with the sneaking suspicion that it might be ‘better’.

Freud’s idea is that when two individuals or groups are very similar, tiny distinctions become psychologically important because they protect the ego from feeling inferior. If someone similar to me has something I lack envy arises which threatens my self-image. So I exaggerate small differences, devalue the other person or group and turn unbearable envy into riteous hostility.

Thus the “narcissism of small differences” acts as a defence mechanism against feelings of inferiority. Instead of admitting envy, the mind says, “They are actually worse than us because of this difference.” This allows the person or group to restore narcissistic self-esteem.

Melanie Klein’s contribution is that envy is not just the impulse to want what the other has, but to spoil or attack it because the other possesses it. When someone similar to us seems to have a slightly better quality, success, or recognition, envy may lead us to denigrate, criticise, or symbolically damage that person.

Lacan connects envy to the dynamics of identification and rivalry which originate in what he called the Mirror Stage. When we identify with an image of ourselves (or someone similar to us), the other who resembles us becomes both a model and a rival. Envy arises because the other seems to embody a more complete or successful version of the self. Small differences then become charged with meaning, the rival’s slight advantage threatens one’s identity, so the hostile instinct of self preservation develops around those differences. Narcissistic identification easily flips into rivalry when the other mirrors us too closely. Hitler’s generals discovered this to their cost in the Night of the Long Knives.

Jung’s nuanced contribution takes Lacan a step further insofar as envy involves the projection of the Self, which is bound to add a dangerously numinous quality to events, wayyy more charged than the projection of inferiorities. The Self represents the totality and organising centre of the psyche. This wholeness is often projected onto religious figures, leaders, lovers, or spiritual symbols. In ‘Aion’ Jung explains that individuals may experience another person as uniquely meaningful, almost larger than life, because the psyche has unconsciously invested them with the symbolic significance of the Self.

This kind of projection helps explain powerful experiences such as idealisation, hero-worship, and intense romantic love. The person appears extraordinary because they are carrying an archetypal meaning which actually originates within the collective psyche, representing the image of inner wholeness which seems divine/perfect, the reflection of an inner potential for wholeness within oneself.

What made the Ayatollah different from the other ‘strong men’ Trump so otherwise admires is that he carried a projection of the Self in a way that Putin, Marcos or Xi Jinping do not. For all the laying on of hands and bibles, which can be yours for a mere $99.99, Trump has, for some strange reason, never been able to carry off the image of the spiritual leader. Despite the profound similarities in regime ideology the teensy detail of (not) being head of the church has always eluded Trump. He recently said himself that he is unlikely to even gain admission to the pearly gates. All of which is bound to fuel an envious billion-dollar-a-day habit… of Jihadi proportions.

thanks to Dr Dale Mathers for the inspiration….