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We know that the growth of object relations is the result of the interaction of two broad forces: The one relates to the quality of mothering: And the other to the child's biological equipment. Now it is conceivable that inherited or prenatally acquired variations in the biological equipment may significantly interfere. For example, it has been observed that some infants may be born with an unusual sensitivity of their perceptual apparatus. It is conceivable that such an oversensitive child would find the stimulation of nursing less pleasurable than a normal child. If this were true, a biological factor in this instance could conceivably interfere with the child's capacity to form his first object relationship. This is similar to Hartmann's (1952) suggestion that neutralization of instinctual energy is a biologically determined process, and an inherited impairment of this process could also lead to an impaired capacity to form object relationships. Jones (Zetzel, 1949) proposed that some individuals have a relative incapacity to tolerate frustration and anxiety. He thought that this might be an inherited feature similar to intelligence. Others, such as Greenacre (1941), have suggested that the operation of biological processes may not be transmitted in the chromosomes but may be the result of specific prenatal or birth experiences. She suggested that a traumatic birth experience may lead to an excessive level of anxiety in the development of the child.
 It must be to admit that all these proposals, while plausible, remain unproved. However, they suggest that if we do establish a biological etiology in the borderline psychotic group, it will refer to those factors that interfere with the establishment of object relations in infancy and therefore lead to an arrest of ego development. Although those biological factors that interfere with the growth of object relations remain unproven - though probable - there is considerable clinical observation tending to support the view that some failure in maternal care is present in all those casers where there has been an arrest of the growth of the ego. This failure may take many forms. It may be actual loss of the mother or separation from the mother, as Bowlby (1961) has emphasized. However, from clinical experiences it does not seem to have been actual physical loss of the mother that took more subtle forms. Occasionally the mothers were unable to contact their children, as they themselves were severely depressed or even psychotic. In others reconstructing the fact that there had been significant absence of the usual amount of holding and cuddling was possible. In still other patients the physical care appeared to have been adequate, but there was a profound distortion in the mother's attitude toward the child. For example, mothers' incapacity to perceive the child as a separate person may induce a relative incapacity on the child's part to differentiate a self form object. We are not, however, able to state that these deficiencies of mothering will in themselves, without the contribution of other biological factors form within the child, lead to an arrest of the ego's growth at the stage of the transitional object.
 It may prove important to emphasize that the crucial issue in the borderline patient and the related group of circumscribed psychoses is not the onset of the psychosis or psychotic-like condition, but is the developmental arrest that results in the impaired differentiation of self form objects. A loss of reality testing that defines the onset of psychosis is but a slight further accentuation, or regression, of an already impaired characterological formation.
 The difference between the group that we have in describing and to those ‘other schizophrenias' appears in a certain instability of defences that followed a fluctuating ego state, and the culmination in the ability to suspend relations with objects in a manner analogous to dreaming while in the waking state. It's evolving impression that these two groups are separate nosological entities, and that a member of one does not become a member of the other. It's interpretation that this observation is to suggest the fact that something must be added to permit an individual to sever his relations to the external world by means of a dream-like withdrawal. As Campbell (1935) stated it,
- ‘I prefer to think of the schizophrenic as belonging to a Greek letter society for which the conditions for admission remain obscure.’ In that the capacity to suspend relations to external objects, which the borderline group does not posses, is determined by the presence of something that is unknown, and something that may be of biological and not of psychological origin. Some can gain admission to this fraternity, and others simply cannot, no matter how hard they try.
 A biological hypothesis seems as to be  unnecessary to explain the onset of psychosis in the group whose defences are stable, that is, in the borderline group, however, something must be added to develop a ‘major schizophrenia', and, yet, that the differences between the borderline and schizophrenic groups have been explained about the strength of the defence structure operating in the former group. For example, Federn (1947) has suggested that the schizoid personality protect the person from becoming a schizophrenic? Glover (1932) believed that a perversion that may frequently be observed in the borderline group also acts as a prophylaxis against psychosis and is, in his words, ‘the negative of certain psychotic formation'. If we could assume that the strength of defences was entirely psychologically determined, we would have no need to introduce a biological hypothesis. The argument that certain defensive structures protect against a greater calamity seems reasonable, but to believe that such an assertion begs the issue. For the remaining is the question to why these defences are effective: What is it that permits such defences to be maintained? If we wished to maintain the argument for a purely psychological determination, we might say that the strength of the defences is simply the consequence of the degree to which the ego has matured. The gist of this argument would be that the difference between the schizophrenic and the borderline is the result of the fact that the arrest in ego development is more extensive in the schizophrenic patient, perhaps because of an even greater disturbance in the early mother-child relationship. This may be a plausible argument: But the fact that many schizophrenics do not develop until mature adult life negates this hypothesis. For observation does not show that ego development in the schizophrenic is necessarily more primitive or more severely arrested than that of the borderline patient. We know that individuals who develop schizophrenia can come to the conclusion in adjoined agreement: often they have distinguished careers before the onset of their illness. It is inconceivable that such accomplishments could be possible in an individual whose growth had been arrested at the earliest levels. Schreber (Freud, 1911) was a distinguished jurist and was thirty-seven years old at the time of his first illness. There is, in that way, no evidence that the ego-arrest of schizophrenic patients is in all instances greater than in borderline actions. So, the possibility is not to assume of any difficulty of explaining the differences between the borderline and the schizophrenic group on purely psychological grounds.
 Clinical observations suggest that we are dealing with at least two separate problems. One is a problem of character formation, which is a consideration of those factors that have interfered with the ego's growth so that love relationships become arrested at the stage of traditional objects. The other is probably a biological problem,
- What is it added to permit an individual to suspend his relations to his love objects? Whether the character development of the borderline and schizophrenic patient proceeds along separate or similar lines is a question that awaits further exploration. Its representation of a suspended emphasis would continue from what can be reconstructed from the history of schizophrenic patients that their love relationships from the history of schizophrenic patients that their love relationships went no further than that of the transitional object: That is, it is quite likely that they are unable to make a complete separation between themselves and their love objects. There is undoubtedly wide individual variation concerning the age at which ‘that certain biological something' is added. It is likely that the early presence of this hypothesized biological process in the schizophrenic group would produce certain divergences in character development as compared with the borderline group. The consulting psychiatrist, however, rarely has an opportunity to see a schizophrenic patient before the onset of his psychosis, so that there are few clinical data that can be used to clarify these questions.
 Although we are unable to state to what extent the pre-psychotic development of the schizophrenic is similar to or different from that of the borderline patient, and it is likely that an arrest of the development of object relations at the transitional level is predisposing the factors for the development of schizophrenia. We might hypothesize that the unknown biological something that must be added will result in schizophrenia only where the ground has been prepared, that is, only whee there has been some arrest in the ego's growth. To state it another way: Transitional self-transactional object modulation is a necessary but not a sufficient cause of schizophrenia.
 Placing special emphasis on the ‘ability to suspend relations to objects', in using an analogy of a normal state of sleep. This analogy is, however, inaccurate, at an important point. In sleep do not find substitutes for relations to objects suspended to show elsewhere (Modell, 1958) that auditory hallucinations serve as substitutes for the ‘real objects' lost, although in a certain sense, as Rochlin (1961) has emphasized, objects are never entirely relinquished. It is very important to know whether these objects are other human beings or are, in Schreber's terms, ‘cursorily improvised. The capacity to conjure up substitutes for other human beings is one that we do not all posses.
 Lastly, to gather up some loose strands of our argument. Psychoanalytic exploration of the borderline states suggests the hypothesis that they represent a syndrome separate from the major schizophrenia. The essential difference rests in their lack of capacity to suspend or abandon relations to external objects. It is possible that this capacity is the result of a biological variation of the central nervous system and is not psychologically determined.  In their character development, individuals who develop the major schizophrenias hare with the borderline group the fact that their object relations tend in the main to be arrested at the stage of their transitional object. Whether the pre-schizophrenic and borderline character disorders can be further distinguished from each other is question that we are not prepared to answer. This hypothesis suggests at least two different orders of possible biological determinants in schizophrenia: The one relates to an impaired capacity to develop mature object relations and is presumably operative from birth onwards: The other concerns the capacity to suspend relations with objects, and this anomaly could become apparent at varying ages in the life of an individual, in some instances not too full maturity or middle age. The arrest of ego development at the level of transitional objects is a necessary but not a sufficient determinant for the development of major schizophrenia.
 If our nosological criteria are based on the capacity to suspend object relations and enter a dreamlike state, it can be seen that the concepts of reactive and process schizophrenia need to be re-evaluated. Our hypothesis suggests that the distinction between psychological and biological factors in the development of schizophrenia relate to the outcome or prognosis. For example, following Kraepelin has been customary (1919) in the belief that the more severe and deteriorating disorders are organic in origin, while the transient schizophrenias are psychogenic or reactive. This way of thinking receives no support from medicine, where an acknowledged organic disorder may run the gamut from mild and transient to severe and debilitating without leading one to assume differing etiologies. Therefore, no reason to link chronicity with the biologic, and transient states with the psychogenic, although we can discern that an individual may enter transient schizophrenic turmoil because of reality identifiable psychological Traumata, we should not therefore assume that the schizophrenia itself is explainable on purely psychological grounds. Whether such a person recovers, may also be observed to be again the outcome of psychological factors, i.e., whether the environment affords him any real satisfaction: This observation, however, should not lead us to conclude that the disorder is entirely psychogenic, for in medicine we know of many instances where recovery from organic illness influenced by environmental factors. We can further note that psychoanalytic observation of character disorders provides no support for the notion that what is transient is psychogenic and what is stable or unchanging is of biological origin. For psychoanalysis is well acquainted with a variety of extremely rigidly, unmodifiable character disorders that do not require, because of their poor prognosis, the introduction of a special biological hypothesis. There is no reason to connect a prognosis with etiology. From this pint of view the individual with a circumscribed paranoid character development who may have the poorest prognosis might have a considerably purer psychogenic disorder as compared with an acute but transient schizophrenic turmoil state. So, that our hypothesis would explain the paradox that Jackson (1960) noted, namely that the chronic paranoid who has nearly as bad a prognosis as the simplex patient shows the least variation from the norm in psychological terms, in weight and intactness of intelligence, dilapidation of habit patterns, etc.
 So that our argument is that psychological knowledge has a certain priority over the biological, a priority in the sense of sequence of observation, that is, that the more all-inclusive, imprecise psychological observations must precede the less inconclusive, more precise biological observations. The psychoanalytic psychiatrist has first to sort things out so that the biologist may know where to look. This hypothesis is one that is not proved, but is still, quite testable.
 The term ‘borderline state' has achieved almost no official status in psychiatric nomenclature, and conveys no diagnostic illumination of a case other than the implication that the patient is quite sick but not frankly psychotic. In the few psychiatric textbooks where the term is to be found at all in the index, it is used in the text to apply to those cases in which the decision is difficult about whether the patients in question are neurotic or psychotic, since both neurotic and psychotic phenomena are observed to be present. The reluctance to make a diagnosis of psychosis on the one hand, in such cases, is usually based on the clinical estimate that these patients have not yet ‘broken with reality?': On the other hand the psychiatrist feels that the severity of the maladjustment and the presence of ominous clinical signs preclude the diagnosis of a psychoneurosis. Thus the label ‘borderline state' when used as a diagnosis, conveys more information about the uncertainty and indecision of the psychiatrist than it does about the condition of the patient.
 Indeed the term and its equivalents have been frequently attacked in psychiatric and psychoanalytic literature. Rickman (1928) wrote: ‘hearing of a case in which a psychoneurosis is common in the discretionary phraseology of a Mental Out Patient Department ‘masks' a psychosis, using the term with inward misgiving, there should be no talk of masks if a case is fully understood and is intuitively not so, having not received a tireless examination - except, of course, as a brief descriptive term comparable too ‘shut-in' or ‘apprehensive' which carry our understanding of the case no further.’ Similarly, Edward Glover (1932) wrote ‘I find the term ‘borderline' or ‘pre'-psychotically, as generally used, unsatisfactory. If a psychotic mechanism is present at all, it should be given a definite label. If we merely suspect the possibility of a breakdown of repression, this can be shown in the term ‘potential' psychotic (more accurately a ‘potentially clinical' psychosis). As for larval psychoses, we are all larval psychotics and have been such since the age of two.’ Again, Zilboorg (1941) wrote: ‘The despicable base advanced cases (of schizophrenia) have been noted, but not seriously considered. When of recent years such cases engaged the attention of the clinician, they were usually approached with the euphemistic labels of bonderising cases, incipient schizophrenias, schizoid personalities, mixed manic-depressive psychoses, schizoid maniacs, or psychopathic personalities. Such an attitude is untestable either logically or clinically’ . . . ,. Zilboorg goes on to declare that schizophrenia should be recognized and diagnosed when its characteristic psychopathology is present, and suggests the term ‘ambulatory schizophrenia' for that type of schizophrenia in which the individual is able for the most part, to conceal his pathology from the public.
 It is not to be wished to defend the term ‘borderline state' as a diagnosis, however, it leaves room to discuss the clinical conditions usually connoted by this term, and especially to call attention to the diagnostic, psychopathological, and therapeutic problems involved in these conditions. Therefore this is the limit of which the functional psychiatric conditions where the term is usually applied, and more particularly to those conditions that involve schizophrenic tendencies of some degree.
 Thus and so, it s the common experience of psychiatrists and psychoanalysts to see and treat, in open sanitariums or even in office practice, many patients whom they regard, in a general sense, as borderline cases. Often these patients have been referred as cases of psychoneuroses of severe degree who have not responded to treatment according to the usual expectations associated with the supposed diagnosis. Most often, perhaps, they have been called severe obsessive-compulsive cases: Sometime an intractable phobia has been the outstanding symptom: Occasionally an apparent major hysterical symptom or anorexia nervosa dominates the clinical picture, and at times it is a question of depression, or of the extent and ominousness of paranoid trends, or of the severity of a character disorder.
 What remains is the unsatisfactory state of our nosology that contributes to our difficulties in classifying these patients diagnostically, and we legitimately wonder at a touch of schizophrenia; is of the same order as a ‘touch of syphilis or a ‘touch of pregnancy?'. Consequently, we flounder so that all of such pronouncing correspondent terms as footing of latent or incipient (or ambulatory) schizophrenia, or accentuate in that of its severe obsessive-compulsive neurosis or depression, adding full coverage, ‘with paranoid trends' or ‘with schizoid manifestations'. Concerns for the most part, we are quite familiar with the necessary of recognizing the primary symptoms of schizophrenia and not waiting for the secondary ones of hallucinations, delusions, stupor and the like.
 Freud (1913) made us alert to the possibly of psychosis underlying a psychoneurotic picture in his warning: ‘Often enough, when one sees a case of neurosis with hysterical or obsessional symptoms, mild in character and of short duration (just the type of case, that is, which one would see as suitably for the treatment) a doubt that must not be overlooked arises whether the case may not be one of the so-called incipient dementia praecox, so-called (schizophrenia, according to Bleuler), and may not eventually develop well-marked signs of this disease.’ Many authors in recent years, among them Hoch and Polatin (1949). Stern (1945), Miller (1940), Pious (1950), Melitta Schmideberg (1947), Fenichel (1945), H. Deutsch (1942), Stengel (1945), and others. Have called attention to types of cases that belong in the borderline band of the psychopathological spectrum, and have commented on the diagnostic and psychotherapeutic problems associated with these cases.
 In attempting to make the precise diagnosis in a borderline case there is three often used criteria, or frames of reference, which are to lead to errors if they are used exclusively or uncritically. One of these, which stems from traditional psychiatry, is the question of whether or not there has been a ‘break with reality': The second is the assumption that neurosis is neurosis, psychosis is psychosis, and never the twain will be met: A third, contributed by psychoanalysis, is the series of stages of development of the libido, with the conception of fixation, regression, and typical defence mechanisms for each stage. Transference problems concerning to most psychoanalytic authors maintain that schizophrenic patient cannot be treated psychoanalytically because they are too narcissistic to develop with the psychotherapist an interpersonal relationship that is sufficiently reliable and consistent for psychoanalytic work. Freud, Fenichel and other authors have recognized that a new technique of approaching patients psychoanalytically must be found if analysts are to work with psychotics. Among those whom hae worked successfully in recent years with schizophrenics, Sullivan, Hill, and Karl Menninger and his staffs have made various modifications of their analytic approach.
 We think of a schizophrenic as a person who has had serious traumatic experience in early infancy at a time when his ego and its ability to examine reality were not yet developed. These early traumatic experiences seem to furnish the psychological basis for the pathogenic influence of the flustrations of later years. Earlier the infant lives grandiosely in a narcissistic world of his own. Something may take his needs and desires care of vague and indefinite which he does not yet differentiate. As Ferenczi noted they are expressed by gestures and movements since speech is yet undeveloped? Frequently the child's desires are fulfilled without any expression of them, a result that seems to him a product of his magical thinking.
 Traumatic experiences in this early period of life will damage a personality more seriously than those occurring in later childhood such as are found in the history of psychoneurotic. The infant's mind is more vulnerable the younger and less used it have been in furthering the trauma is a blow to the infant's egocentricity. In addition early traumatic experience shortens the only period in life in which an individual ordinarily enjoys the moist security, thus endangering the ability to store up as it was a reasonable supply of assurance and self-reliance for the individual's late struggle through life. Thus is such a child sensitized considerably more toward the frustrations of later life than by later traumatic experience. Therefore many experiences in later life that would mean little to a ‘healthy' person and not much to a psychoneurotic, mean a great deal of pain and suffering to the schizophrenic. His resistance against frustration is easily exhausted.
 Once he reaches his limit of endurance, he escapes the unbearable reality of present life by attempting to reestablish the autistic, delusional world of the infant, but this is impossible because the content of his delusions and hallucinations are naturally coloured by the experiences of his whole lifetime.
 How do these developments influence the patient's attitude toward the analyst and the analyst's approach to him?
 Due to the very early damage and the succeeding chain of frustrations that the schizophrenic undergoes before finally giving in to illness, he feels extremely suspicious and distrustful of everyone, particularly of the psychotherapist who approaches him with the intention of intruding into his isolated world and personal life. To him the physician's approach means the threat of being compelled to return to the frustrations of real life and to reveal his inadequacy to meet them, or - still worse - a repetition of the aggressive interference with his initial symptoms and peculiarities that he has encountered in his previous environment.
 In spite of his narcissistic retreat, every schizophrenic has some dim notion of the unreality and loneliness of his substitute delusionary world. He longs for human contact and understanding, yet is afraid to admit it to himself or to his therapist for fear of further frustration.
 That is why the patient may take weeks and months to test the therapist before being willing to accept him.
 However, once he has accepted him, his dependence on the therapist is greater and he is more sensitive about it than is the psychoneurotic because of the schizophrenic's deeply rooted insecurity; the narcissistic seemingly self-righteous attitude is but a defence.
 Whenever the analyst fails the patient from reasons to be of mention - one severe disappointment and a repetition of the chain of frustrations the schizophrenic has previously endured.
 To the primitive part of the schizophrenic's mind that does not discriminate between himself and the environment, it may mean the withdrawal of the impersonal supporting forces of his infancy. Severe anxiety will follow this vital deprivation.
 In the light of his personal relationship with the analyst it means that the therapist seduced the patient to use him as a bridge over which he might be led from the utter loneliness of his own world to reality and human warmth, only to have him discover that this bridge is not reliable. If so, he will respond helplessly with an outburst of hostility or with renewed withdrawal  that one may be seen as most impressively in catatonic stupors.
 Through reasons of change, this withdrawal during treatment is a way the schizophrenic has of showing resistance and is dynamically comparable to the various devices the psychoneurotic uses to show resistance. The schizophrenic responds to alterations in the analyst's defections and understanding by corresponding stormy and dramatic changes from love to hatred, from willingness to leave his delusional world to resistance and renewed withdrawal.
 As understandable as these changes are, they nevertheless may come to the conclusion of quite a surprise to the analyst who frequently has not observed their source. This is quite in contrast to his experience with psychoneurotic whose emotional reactions during an interview he usually predicts. These unpredictable changes may be the reason for the conception of the unreliability of the schizophrenic's transference reactions, yet they follow the same dynamic rules as the psychoneurotic's oscillations between positive and negative transference and resistance. If the schizophrenic's reactions are more stormy and seemingly more unpredictable than those of the psychoneurotic, perhaps this may be due to the inevitable errors in the analyst's approach to the schizophrenic, of which he himself may be aware, than to the unreliability of the patient's emotional response.
 Why is it inevitable that the psychoanalyst disappoints his schizophrenic patients time and again?
 The schizophrenic withdraws from painful reality and retires to what resembles the early speechless phase of development where consciousness is yet crystallized. As the expression of his feelings is not hindered by the conventions he has eliminated, so his thinking, feeling, behaviour and speech - when present - obey the working rules of the archaic unconscious. His thinking is magical and does not follow logical rules. It does not admit to any, and likewise no yes? : There is no recognition of space and time, as ‘I', ‘you' and ‘they' are interchangeable. Expression is by symbols, often by movements and gestures rather than by words.
 As the schizophrenic is suspicious, he will distrust the words of his analyst. He will interpret them and incidental gestures and attitudes of the analyst according to his own delusional experience. The analyst may not even be aware of these involuntary manifestations of his attitudes, yet they mean a great deal of the hypersensitive schizophrenic who uses them for orienting himself to the therapist's personality and intentions toward him.
 In other words, the schizophrenic patient and the therapists are people living in different worlds and on different levels of personal development with different means of expressing and of orienting themselves. We know little about the language of the unconscious of the schizophrenic, and our access to it is blocked by the very process of our own adjustment to a world the schizophrenic has relinquished. So we should not be surprised that errors and misunderstandings occur when we undertake to the spoken exchange and strive for a rapport with him.
 Another source of the schizophrenic's disappointment arises from the following: Since the analyst accepts and does not interfere with the behaviour of the schizophrenics, his attitude may lead the patient to expect that the analyst will assist in carrying out all the patients' wishes, although they might not be his interest, or to the analyst's and the hospital's in their relationship to society. This attitude of acceptance so different from the patient's experiences readily fosters the anticipation that the analyst. As to carry out the patient's suggestions as to take upon his dispense ways, even against the established controversial change in a society of which should occasion to arise. Frequently, agreeing with the patient's wish to remain unbathed and untidy will be wise for the analyst until he is ready to talk about the reasons for his behaviour or to change spontaneously. At other times, he will unfortunately be unable to take the patient's part without being able to make the patient understands and accept the reasons for the analysts' position. If, however, the analyst is not able to accept the possibility of misunderstanding the reactions of his schizophrenic patient and in turn of being misunderstood by him, it may shake his security with his patient. The schizophrenic, once accepted the analyst and wants to rely upon him, will sense the analyst's insecurity. Being helpless and insecure he - in spite of his pretended grandiose isolation - he will feel utterly defeated by the insecurity of his would-be helper. Such disappointment may furnish reasons for outbursts of hatred and rage that are comparable to the negative transference reactions of psychoneurotic, yet more intense than these since they are not limited by the restrictions of the actual world.
 These outbursts are accompanied by anxiety, feelings of guilt, and fear of retaliation that in turn lead to increased hostility. Thus, lay the groundwork for a vicious circle: We disappoint the patient: He hates us, is afraid we hate him for his hatred and therefore continues to hate us. If in addition he senses that the analyst is afraid of his aggressiveness, it confirms his fear that he is effectively considered dangerous and unacceptable, and this augments his hatred.
 This establishes that the schizophrenic is capable of developing strong relationships of love and hatred toward his analyst. After all, one could not be so hostile if it were not for the background of a very close relationship, once to emerge from an acutely disturbed and combative episode. In addition, the schizophrenic develops transference reaction in the narrower sense that he can differentiate from the actual interpersonal relationship.
 What is the analyst's further function in therapeutic interviews with the schizophrenic? As Sullivan has stated, he should observe and evaluate the entire patient's words, gestures, changes of attitude and countenance, and he does the associations of psychoneurosis. Every production - whether understood by the analyst or not - is important and makes sense to the patient. Therefore the analyst should try to understand, and let the patient feel that he tries. He should as to preclude and not attempt to prove his understanding by giving interpretations because the schizophrenic himself understands the unconscious meaning of his productions better than anyone else. Nor should the analyst ask questions when he does not understand, for he cannot know what trend of thought, far off dream or hallucination he may be interpreting. He gives evidence of understanding, whenever he does, by responding cautiously with gestures or actions appropriate to the patient's communication, for example, by lighting his cigarette from the patient's cigarette instead of using a match when the patient seems to say a wish for closeness and friendship.
 What has been said against intruding into the schizophrenic's inner world with superfluous interpretation's also holds unswerving for untimely suggestions? Most of them do not mean the same thing to the schizophrenic that they do to the analyst. The schizophrenic who feels comfortable with his analyst will ask for suggestions when he is ready to receive them. If he does not, the analyst does better to listen, least of mention, the schizophrenic's emotional reactions toward the analyst have to be met with extreme care and caution. The love that the sensitive schizophrenic feels as he first emerged, and his cautious acceptances of the analyst's warmth of interest are really most delicate and tender things. If the analyst deals uncleverly with the transference reactions of a psychoneurotic, it is bad enough, though as a rule is separable but if he fails with a schizophrenic in meeting positively feeling by pointing it out for instance before the patient shows that he is ready to discuss it, he may easily freeze to death what had just begun to grow and so destroy any further possibility of therapy.
 Sometimes the therapist's frank statement that he wants to be the patient's friend but that he is going to protect himself should him be assaulted may help in coping with the patient's combativeness and relieve the patient's fear of his own aggression. As, too, some analysts may feel that the atmosphere of complete acceptance and strict avoidance of any arbitrary denials that we recommend as a basic rule for the treatment of schizophrenics may not accord with our wish to guide them toward reacceptance of reality. This may not be as apparently so. Certain groups of psychoneurotics have to learn by the immediate experience of analytic treatment how to accept the denials life has in store for each of us. The schizophrenic has above all to be cured of the wounds and frustrations of his life before we can expect him to recover.
 Other analysts may feel that treatment as we have outlined it is not psychoanalysis. The patient is not instructed to lie on a couch, and he is not asked to give free associations (although frequently he does), and his productions are seldom interpreted other than by understanding acceptance. Freud says that every science and therapy that accept his teachings about the unconscious, about transference and resistance and about infantile sexuality, may be called psychoanalysis. According to this definition we believe we are practising psychoanalysis with our schizophrenic patients.'
 Whether we call it analysis or not, successful treatment clearly does not depend on technical rules of any special psychiatric school but on the basic attitude of the individual therapist toward psychotic persons. If he meets them as strange creatures of another world whose productions are non-understandable to ‘normal' beings, he cannot treat them. If he realizes, however, that the difference between himself and the psychotic is only one of degree and not to kind, he will know better how to met him. He can probably identify himself sufficiently with the patient to understand and accept his emotional reactions without becoming involved in them.
 Amid the welter of competing or complementary theories that have characterized psychoanalysis over the century of its existence, the concept of transference and the conviction so important in the therapeutic process may be a unifying theme. None of Freud's epochal discoveries - the power of the dynamic unconscious, the meaningfulness of the dream, the universality of intrapsychic conflict, the critical role of repression, the phenomena of infantile sexuality - is more heuristically productive or more clinically valuable than his demonstration that humans regularly and inevitably repeat with the analyst and with other important figures in their current lives patterns of relationship, of fantasy, and of conflict with the crucial figures in their childhood - primarily their parents.
 Even for Freud, however, the awareness of this phenomenon and the understanding of its specific significance in the analytic situation itself came only gradually. The flamboyant transference events for Anna O and the unfortunate outcome with Dora served to consolidate in Freud's mind a view of transference as a resistance phenomenon, as an obstacle to the recollection of early traumatic events that, in his view at the time, formed the true essence of the psychoanalytic process. Emphasis in this early period, thus, was on the 'management' of the transference, on finding ways to prevent its interference with the proper business of the analysis - recognizing, always, the inevitability of its occurrence. Freud was most concerned about the interference generated by the 'negative' (i.e., hostile) and the erotised transference; the 'positive' transference he considered 'unobjectionable', ‘the vehicle of success in the psychoanalysis.’
 Freud was also concerned to distinguish the analytic transference from the effects of suggestion in the hypnotic treatment he had learned in France and that gad been the forerunner of his own psychoanalytic technique. He, and his early followers and students, were at great pains to define the transference as a spontaneous product of the analytic situation, emerging from the patient rather than imposed by the analyst. Ultimately, Freud came to view as essentially for an analytic cure the development of a new mental structure, the ‘transference neurosis’ - a re-creation of the original neurosis in the analytic situation itself, with the patient experiencing the analyst as the object of his or her infantile wishes and the focus of his or her pathogenic conflicts, the crucial importance of the transference neurosis - it's very reality as a clinical phenomenon - has been and continues to be a matter of debate among psychoanalysts to this day.
 Over the resulting decades several themes appear and reappear. One to which Freud eluded is that of the uniqueness versus the ubiquity of transference; is it a special creation of the analytic situation or is it an inevitable and universal aspect of all human relations? To a considerable degree, are transference phenomena always based on a repetition of experiences? More central and perhaps more heated is the continuing debate about the primacy of transference interpretation in what Strachey has called the 'mutative' effects of analysis - for example, whether such interpretations are simply more convincing than others or are the only kinds that are truly effective therapeutically. Echoes of this debate resound through the years and are to the spoken exchange in some of most recent literature. Finally, are all the patients' reactions to the analyst in the analytic situation to have the quality of being construed as transference or do some partake of the ‘real,’ ‘non-neurotic’ relationship or of the ‘working alliance.’
 The theoretical explanation of the transference and transference phenomena have undergone significant changes over the years. The transference has become a sort of projective device, a vessel into which each commentator poured the essence of his or her approach to the clinical situation and to the understanding of what unique interactional process that forms the analytic situation.
 The introductory group (1909-36) that of the pioneers, shows the afforded efforts of Freud and his early followers to grasp and deal with the powerful phenomenon they were only beginning to recognize and to attempt to understand. The middle period (1936-60) reflects the consolidation of therapeutic technique and he attempts of both European and American analysts to bring the concept of transference into consonance with the increasingly important constructs of ego psychology. In the latest period of which (1960-87), basis the groundwork for a balance between reassertion of traditional views and various revisionist statements and reconsiderations of some classical positions.
 Freud's awareness of the actuality of transference phenomena - that is, of the development in the patient of powerful feelings and wishes toward the therapist in the ‘talking cure’ - began when he first learned from Joseph Breuer of the events that occurred in his treatment of Anna O. It was not, however, until the debacle with Dora that they brought the full force of this phenomenon home to him - if not of his own countertransference feelings as well. Transferences are, Freud said, ‘new editions or facsimiles of the impulses and fantasies aroused and made consciously during the progress of the analysis; up to the present time they have this peculiarity, . . . that they replace some earlier person by the person of the physician.’ ‘Psychoanalytic treatment does not create transference, but it merely brings them to light like so many other hidden psychical factors.’
 Freud did not again deal in detail with the subject of transference until 1912, in The Dynamics of Transference. In fact, the first paper devoted specifically upon its subject matter was in Ferenczi's ‘Introjection and Transference,’ and published in 1909. Ferenczi offered an exposition on the topic, drawing his stimulus from Freud's reference to ‘transferences’ in The Interpretation of Dreams and the Dora case. Transference, he states, is a special case of the mechanism of displacement, is ubiquitous in life but especially pronounced in neurotics, and makes explicitly the form of an appearance in the relationship of patient to the physician - in or outside the psychoanalysis. He relates the transference to other psychic mechanisms, most particularly projection and introjection, and defends the psychoanalysis against accusations of improperly generating transference reactions in its patients. ‘The critics who look on these transferences as dangerous should.’ He says, ‘condemn the non-analytic modes of treatment more severely than the psychoanalytic method, since the former really intensifies the transference, while the later shrives to uncover and to resolve them when possible.’
 It was not until 1912, in The Dynamics of Transference, that Freud returned to the subject. Here he explains about libido economy, and given that the topographical model of the mind the inevitable emergence of the transference in the analytic situation and its role as an all-important crucial mode of resistance. ‘The transference-idea penetrated into consciousness in front of any other possible association because it satisfies the resistance, but only if it is a negative or erotic transference. The analyst's role is to ‘control' or' ‘remove' the transference resistance. It is, Freud said, ‘on that field that we must be win the victory?’
 We have substantially explored the problem posed by the erotic transference on Observations on Transference-Love. Freud speaks systematically about the dangers of unregulated countertransference, and he admonishes his colleagues on the need to maintain analytic neutrality in the face of the patient's importunate demand for fulfilment of the erotic longings. Here, again, he coins the much-debated aphorism, they must carry ‘the treatment out in abstinence.’ He makes it clear that ‘transference lover’ is not to occupy the inescapable position by some spatial moment of the some insignificant or deviant, as it draws on the same infantile well-springs as the love of everyday life. It is the analyst's business to deal with it analytically rather than by gratifying or rejecting it.
 Freud's illumination of the phenomenon of transference although, little appeared in the literature bearing specifically on the topic for several of years. Yet it seems that,
as Strachey points out, this was due to the preoccupation of most analysts, particularly in the rise of ego psychology, with the analysis of resistance and of character traits. It was, therefore, not until 1934 that the most important and, to this day, the most influential post-Freudian contribution to the analysis of transference appeared -. Strachey's ‘Nature of the Therapeutic Action of Psycho-Analysis.’ Strongly reflecting the influence of Melanie Klein, Strachey outlines the notion that the central analytic task is the resolution of archaic superego elements in the structure of the mind, and that the definitive instrument for affecting this is what he terms ‘mutative interpretation.’ Such an interpretation must, he says, ‘be emotionally immediate’ and ‘directed to the point of urgency'; ‘the point of regency is nearly always to be found in the transference.’ ‘Therefore, only transference interpretations are likely to be mutative.  Conversely, we are still hearing the reverberations of this shot today.’
 Freud's early view of the transference as Sterba echoed and exemplified a resistance to the analytic work by Sterba, in his report of a case that obviously derived from his European experiences, for example, the description of goose stuffings. Here he explains technical measures for the dissolution of such resistances, which include explanations similarly that ‘the hostility toward his father, . . . may not have had the quality of being analysed if he developed the unconscious hostility and consequent anxiety toward the analyst that he formally had for his father’ In other words, they essentially enjoined the transference, rather than analysed, by appealing to what Sterba came to calling the ‘observing ego,’ as opposed to the ‘experiencing ego.’
 Among the first to apply psychoanalytic principles outside the consulting room was August Aichhorn? Trained as an educator, Aichhorn undertook to work with delinquent adolescents in Vienna and established the first therapeutic school based on psychoanalytic principles; in this setting, he became the mentor for a generation of child analysts, including Erikson, Blos, Ekstein, Redl, and others. In his classical text, Wayward Youth, Aichhorn displayed some extraordinary techniques he devised for treating dissocial adolescents - in particular, ways of manipulating the transference to establish a positive relationship at the outset of treatment.
 The appearance in 1936 of Anna Freud's the Ego and the Mechanisms of Defence represented a landmark in the evolution of psychoanalytic theory and technique. Ms. Freud's specific codification of the defensive apparatus and her emphasis on the necessity of analysing not merely the id elements but the ego elements of the mind signalled major changes in the way analysts thought about and carried on their clinical work. Nonetheless, her observations on the role of transference analysis, trenchant as they were, remain within the framework of the traditional view of transference phenomena as ‘repetitions and not new creations.’ The function of the analysis of transference is to put the ‘transferred effective impulse . . . back into its place in the past.’ Ms. Freud drew the valuable distinction among the transferences of ‘libidinal’ impulses, the transference of defence, and acting in the transference. Her contribution emphasized the critical value of the analysis of defence transference, which, ads she explained, is far more difficult than that of transferred drive impulses because the patient experiences it as ego-syntonic.
 The dominant trend in early discussions was the presumption that the transference is an ‘autogenous’ product of the patient induced, no doubt, by the special character of the analytic situation but emerging out of the patient's own needs and unfulfilled infantile wishes. Bibring-Lehner (later simply as Bibring) was unitarily to suggest those particular characteristics of the analyst or his or her behaviour can so shape the emerging transference as to create an impenetrable resistance that might. Require a change of analysts. In particular, Bibring-Lehner addressed the matter of the gender of the analyst, but clearly other factors might suffice to blur the patient's distinction between transference and reality and thus to create an unanalysable stalemate. She spoke, too, of the necessity of a ‘predominantly positive transference based on confidence, without whose help we cannot overcome the transference neurosis,’ this clearly prefigured the concept of the ‘therapeutic’ or ‘working’ alliance that later becomes a focus on controversy.
 During the interval (1936-1960), the concerns of those who contributed to the ongoing discussions of transference and its place in analytic theory and technique, in which time this period was to relate its phenomenological growth in understanding of the ego, both in its defensive and (Hartmanns) 'autonomous' aspects, to new theories of early development and to a growing concern in some quarters with ‘interpersonal’ as opposed too purely ‘intrapsychic’ aspects of personality function. A subsequent stimulus was Alexander's (1946) advocacy of active role playing by the analyst to give the patient a ‘corrective emotional experience,’ at least in psychoanalytic psychotherapy if not in analysis proper.
 Of a well-oriented paper, Greenacre emphasizes the distinction, first stated by Freud, between the analytic transference and that which characterizes other modes of therapy. All manipulation, exploitation, we have excluded all use of transference for ‘corrective emotional experience’ from the psychoanalytic situation, which relies exclusively on interpretation to achieve its therapeutic goal. Greenacre's view of the analyst's role in analysis and in the world outside as ascetically in agreement; she would preclude the analyst from publicly participating in social or political activities that might have a possessive tendency to reveal aspects of the analyst's person that would contaminate the transference. Like Freud, Stone, and others she distinguishes between a ‘basic,’ essentially non-conflictual transference derived from the early mother-child relationship and the analytic transference proper, which involves projection onto the analyst of unconscious conflictual material, yet, others (for example, Brenner) challenge this distinction.
 It is, however, echoed in Elizabeth Zetzel's masterful review of what were, the dominant trends in the field. She proposed, following the usage of Edward Bibring, the concept of the ‘therapeutic alliance,’ derived, as was Greenacre's ‘basic transference,’ from the positive aspects of the mother-child relationship. Like most other commentators she asserted the centrality of transference interpretation in the analytic process, but she resorts by a schismatically oriented sharping detail of some differences in the form and content of such interpretations between Freudian and Kleinian analysis - that is, between those who are concerned with the role of the ego and the analysis of defence and those who emphasize the importance of early object relations and primitive instinctual fantasy.
 Like Greenacre and Zetzel, Greenson distinguishes between what he calls the ‘working alliance’ sand the ‘transference neurosis.’ He contends that without the development of the former they cannot analyse the latter effectively. The ‘working alliance’ depends not only on the patient's capacity to establish adequate object ties and to assess reality.  However, also on the analyst's assumption of an attitude that permits such an alliance to emerge, and, also to Greenson who advocates an analytic stance that, while holding fast to the rule of abstinence, allows for more ‘realistic’ gratification that is no less ascetical than Greenacre would encourage. Gill will later challenge Greenson's definition of transference - that it always represents a repetition of experiences and that it is always ‘inappropriate to the present,’ - who contends that transference reactions may be appropriate responses to aspects of the analytic situation of which both patient and analysts are not necessarily aware.
 In contrast to these views, Brenner categorically rejects the notions of ‘therapeutic’ and ‘working’ alliances as distinct from the analytic transference, and with them the admonition to the analyst to be ‘human’ or ‘empathic’ to encourage such states. In his view, ‘both refer to aspects of the transference that neither deserve a special name nor require special treatment.’ ‘In analysis,’ he says, ‘it is best for the patient if one approaches everything analytically. It is as important to understand why they have closely ‘allied a patient' with his analyst . . . as, it is to understand why there is no ‘alliance' at all.’
 In an extremely thoughtful, systematic exploration of the topic, Macalpine argues that the infantile situation induces transference in patients in which the analysis, by its rightfully hidden nature, places them. As do hypnotic subjects, analysands adapt by regression and, if we have predisposed them to do so, will experience the present as to their infantile past. What distinguishes analysis from hypnosis is the nonparticipation of the analyst in the process - that is, the analyst's avoidance, by the management of his or her countertransference, of active suggestion. ‘The analytic transference relationship had respectably spoken not as to make up the relationship between analysand and analyst, but more precisely as the analysand's relations to his analyst.’ In these Macalpine stands apart from more recent object relations theorists who stress the mutual dyadic aspect of the analytic situation.
 Nurnberg, too, analogizes the analytic situation to that of hypnosis, in its induction of a regressive state in which the patient submits to the analyst's implicit parental power and authority. The patient then projects onto the analyst his or her unconscious representation of the parent, seeking to achieve an ‘identity of perception’ between the two images. Primarily it is the superego, he contents, that is in such a way projected, and it is through the analysis of these projections that we have enabled the patient to deal more effectively with reality. It must be of note that in Nunberg's tendency to denote the source of the superego as exclusively presented as ‘the father’ and the transference projection as that of the ‘father image.’
 They have rooted Melanie Klein's approach to the transference, of course, in her conception of the developmental process and the role of early object relations, which, she maintains, exists from the beginning of life. The transference represents the displacement of not only the actual aspects of parents but also of split-off projected and introjected part-object representations from early infancy - prosecutory ‘bad’ objects or benevolent ‘good’ ones. Like Gill, Klein both emphasizes the importance of attending to and interpreting subtle or disguised references to the analyst and maintains that therapeutic necessity of relating all associative content to transference fantasies and wishes, with special emphasis on the negative transference (another lucid exposition that of his, a Kleinian approach to the transference is that of Paula Heimann [1956] ).
 Under the influence of Mrs. Klein many British analysts, D. W. Winnicott among them, have undertaken to analyse patients with what Americans would speak of as severe ego disturbances - borderline and psychotic in nature. Winnicott's too repressed at the time of the original experience,  she appears to anticipate Winnicott's ideas about ‘true’ and ‘false’ selves.
 Freud distinguished between the ‘transference neuroses’ and the ‘narcissistic neuroses,’ which included schizophrenia. He contended that patients in the latter group did not establish transferences and thus were inaccessible to psychoanalytic therapy. Like Winnicott, Fromm-Reichmann, from her experience with schizophrenics at Chestnut Lodge, challenges this dictum. Though clearly not adaptable to the conventional analytic situations, such patients do, she contends, from intense. Transference reactions and are susceptible too analytically informed, though often unorthodox, therapeutic intervention. Though many would question the ultimate effectiveness for such a  therapy that pose to pass on (McGlashan 1984), Fromm-Reichmann's description of her special techniques for establishing contact with persons in profound states of narcissistic regression and for understanding their transference reactions are impressive and are still of value.
 Recent decades have witnessed a resurgence of interest in the transference in its aspects - theoretical and technical. Stimulated by new analytically perceptive both in Europe and the United States and by influences stemming from linguistics and philosophy, several commentators have sought to reconsider traditional viewpoints and to satisfy new observational data.
 In his long, densely written paper Stone undertakes a comprehensive statement of his views on the varied aspects of the transference from developmental and clinical perspectives. In particular, he sets forth a distinction between the ‘primordial’ and the ‘mature’ transference ‘from which,’ he says, we have derived ‘the various clinical and demonstrable forms,’ where they have ‘derived the ‘primordial’ transference from the effort to master the series of crucial separations from the mother,’ the mature transference ‘encompasses . . . the wish to understand, and to be understood’ and ‘in its peak development,  . . .  the wish for increasingly accurate interpretations.’ The ‘mature’ transference draws then on autonomous ego functions and is a ‘dynamic and integral part of the ‘therapeutic alliance.'’ Stone also deals in extensor with the Stracheyian question of the special ‘mutative’ value of transference interpretation, while not devaluing these, he argues persuasively for the importance of the patient's real life experiences and the analytic value of interpretations related to them.
 One of the most forceful statements of the centrality of the transference to the analytic experience is that of Brian Bird. In his view, there is something unique about the analytic transference; for him, everything that occurs in the analysis for both patient and analyst partakes of transference elements. Yet for Bird, what is essential for the therapeutic effect is not merely the analysis of transference ‘feeling’ but the evolution and analysis of a full-blown transference neurosis. He asserts, the quintessence of the transference neurosis is an analytic stalemate, in which one's interpersonal replaced be as an intrapsychic conflict involving the patient and a split-off aspect of his or her neurosis assigned to the analyst. The true work and the ‘hardest part’ of analysis go on, and it is in the interpretation and resolution of such stalemates - including a rigorous analysis of the patient's hostile, destructive wishes.
 Gill, in basic agreement, carries the argument even in a major way. He distinguishes between the patient's resistance to awareness of transference and the resistance to the resolution of the transference. It is the former, where transference experiences are largely unconscious and ego-syntonic, that is the more difficult. It is the analyst's task to allow the transference to evolve and flourish so that we can make the patient aware of it. To do so, the analyst must be alert to interpret indirect and veiled allusions to the transference and, to a considerable degree, seek out those elements of the analytic situation, including the analyst's own behaviour, that serve as the ‘day-residue’ for such transference responses. Gill strongly advocates a focus on the here-and-now factors, allowing genetic determinants to emerge on their own rather than interpreting them.
 The distinction between what has been called the ‘basic’ transference, or the ‘therapeutic alliance’ or the ‘working alliance,’ on the one hand and the analytic transference or transference neurosis in the other has been a staple of controversy. Stein, reflecting on Freud's term ‘the unobjectionable part of the transference,’ takes issue with this distinction. Insisting of the entire transference phenomena that he so then encourages the forethought against the practice of leaving the ‘unobjectionable’ or ‘basic’ transference unanalysed: They are, he says, ‘the manifest resultant of a complex web of unconscious conflicts that must be, and are unably effective of being, sought and described.’ The speculative assumption was that they were to personify of some underlain realization as rooted merely in early infant development as he believes unwarranted.
 From his reassessment of basic psychoanalytic concepts, Schafer, influenced by British analytic philosophers, provides a revised view of transference and transference interpretation - in particular, of the character of transference as ‘repetition.’ As Schafer sees it, transference experiences are new ones, created by the analytic situation. It is the act of analytic interpretation that forms them as repetition. More properly they can see them as metaphoric communications; thus, ‘they represent movement forward, not backward.’ Interpretation does not merely recover or uncover old meanings; it creates new meanings that help the patient to make sense - psychoanalytic sense - of his or her life and modes of relating to others. Transference, Schafer says, is ‘the emotional experiencing of the past as it is now remembering,’ not as it ‘really’ happened.
 Loewald considers the status of the transference neurosis in the setting of contemporary practice, in which the modal patient suffers from a character neurosis rather than from the ‘classical’ symptom neuroses of an earlier era. Given the more diffuse developmental etiology of the character disturbances, transference manifestations are so inclined as to be modestly definite and less focussed; a transference neurosis in the classical sense may not appear at all. Thus, ‘transference neurosis is not so much an entity to be found in the patient, but an operational concept, . . . a creature of the analytic situation.’ Even where a full-blown transference neurosis does not develop, however, we can accomplish much? ‘The repercussion of what has occurred,’ Loewald states, ‘may turn out to be deeper and more extensive than anticipated.’
 Strachey's pivotal advocacy of the exclusively ‘mutative’ value of transference interpretation has led to one major controversy in the literature. In its extreme form, the position taken was not only that transference interpretations were crucial but that interpretations addressed to extra-transferential experiences were in principle ineffective and useless. Leites, a non-clinician, survey the literature to argue strongly for the other side - for the view, that is, that the analysis of current and experiences with others can be as effective and meaningful as can the unifocal address to the transference. Without reducing the special impact of transference interpretations, Leites seeks to undo the dogmatism and rigidity he sees inherently in what he calls ‘Strachey's Law.’
 In the evolution of what came to his ‘psychology of the self,’ Heinz Kohut demarcated a topology of transference reactions that were, in his view, characteristic of patients with narcissistic personality disorders. This, the ‘idealizing’ and ‘mirror’ transferences, reflected specific types of deprivation in early parent-child interactions that generated a persistent need for special types of what came to call ‘self-object’ attachments - in and out of the analytic situation. Kohut's meticulous descriptions of these transference phenomena and of their analytic management were a source of stimulation and instruction to many analysts, even to those who were unwilling to follow some later developments in his theoretical and technical thinking.
 Of recent commentators, perhaps the most gnomic, the least penetrable, and the most devoted to paradoxes were Jacques Lacan. Here, he takes exception to what he regards as the ‘American’ concept of appealing, through the therapeutic alliance, to the ‘mature’ portion of or (anathema to him) the ‘autonomous functions.’ Lacan does share the general view that the transference is central to the analytic experience and seems to echo Freud in conceiving it primarily as a resistance - as, ‘closing’ of the unconscious, and is characteristically by obscurity and linguistic play and leaves one uncertain as to his actual technical approach, but the central thread of his focus on language as the basic element in the structure of mental life, - we have structured ‘the unconscious like language’ - is affirmatively defended by Lacan, 1978.
 They couch Kernberg's reflections on the transference through his ‘ego psychological-object relations’ though sharing the recent emphasis on here-and-now aspects of transference interpretation. He regards the links with infantile precursors, conceived in early internalized object relations, as essential. He urges openness of mind and tolerance of uncertainty, however, rather than imposing on the patient preconceived ideas about etiology and pathogenesis. In particular, he distances himself from what he regards as the restrictive concepts of ‘self-psychology,’ especially regarding the role of aggression. What is more, while attending closely to all aspects of communication in the session, Kernberg aligns himself with those who regard both extra-analytic and intra-analytic experience as valid material for interpretation.
 The alternative views of transference as a repetition of infantile experience and as a new creation in the setting of the analytic situation have evidently formed the basis of a continuing debate from the earliest years. In his assessment of current ideas of transference, Cooper calls these respectively the ‘historical’ and the ‘modernist’ views attributing recent interest able to changing philosophical concepts of reality and the rise to prominence of object relations theories in analysis. Cooper comes down squarely for the ‘modernist’ views, maintaining, like Gill, that the actuality of the analyst's individuation and behaviour are a powerful determinant of the patient's transference reactions and need be accorded to the attention of at least the equal to that any given reconstructed infantile determinant, for he admixtures for a ‘synchronic’ rather than a ‘diachronic’ view of the transference and like Spence (1982), Schafer (1983). Others question the possibility of re-creating from the analysis of the transference or from anything else a ‘true’ version of the life history.
 Still, they must remember it, that it was as a therapeutic procedure that psychoanalyses originated. It is in the main as a therapeutic agency that it exists today. It may be of a surprise to us, in that the per capita of equal measure prove equivalent to the minor preposition of psychoanalytical literature of which is  concerned with the mechanisms by which they achieve its therapeutic effects. They have accumulated a very considerable quantity of data during the last thirty or forty years that throw light upon the nature and workings of the human mind: we have made perceptible progress in the task of classifying and subsuming such data into a body of generalized hypotheses or scientific laws. Nevertheless, there has been a remarkable hesitation in applying these findings in any great detail to the therapeutic process itself. Seemingly probable, one cannot help feeling that this hesitation has been responsible for the fact that so many discussions upon the practical details of analytic technique seem to leave us at cross-purposes and at an inconclusive end. How, for instance, can we expect to agree upon the vexed question of whether and when we should give a ‘deep interpretation,’ while we have no clear ideas of what we mean by a ‘deep interpretation,’ while, we have no exactly formulated view of the idea of ‘interpretation' itself, no precise knowledge of what interpretation' is and what effect it has upon our patients? We should gain much, least of mention, from a clearer grasp of problems such as this. If we could arrive at a more detailed understanding of the workings of the therapeutic process, we show; if be less prone to those occasional feelings of utter disorientation that few analysts are fortunate enough to escape, and the analytic movement itself might be less at the mercy of proposals for abrupt alterations in the ordinary technical procedure - proposals that derive much of their strength from the prevailing uncertainty as to the exact nature of the analytic therapy. At present, it is a tentative attack upon this problem, and although it should turn out that they cannot maintain its very doubtful conclusions. Some analysts, however, are anxious to draw attention to the agency of the problem itself. Sometimes, however, make clear that what follows is not a practical discussion upon psychoanalytic technique. Because, its impending bearings are merely theoretical, since the considerable individual deviation that we would generally regard as the various sorts of procedures. As within the limits of ‘orthodox' psychoanalysis and various sorts of effects which observation shows that the applications of such procedures bring to a trend about having set up a hypothesis which endeavours to explain almost coherently why these particular procedures cause this effectiveness and if possible it hypotheses about the nature of the therapeutic action of a psychoanalysis are valid, certain implications follow from it that might serve as criteria in forming a justifiable judgement of the probable effectiveness of any particular type of procedure?
 It will be the object, nonetheless, that exaggeration and the novelty of its topic, are after all, it leaves to be said, ‘we do understand and have long understood the main principles that governs the therapeutic action of analysis.’ To this, of course, is, the start of what I having as shortly as possible the accepted views upon the subject. For this purpose, we must go back to the period between the years 1912 and 1917 during which Freud gave us the greater part of what he has written directly on the therapeutic side of the psychoanalysis, namely the series of papers on technique and the twenty-seventh and twenty-eight chapters of the Introductory Lectures.
 The systematic application characterized this period of the method known as ‘resistance analysis'. The method in question was hardly a new one even. It was based upon ideas that had long been implicit in analytic theory, and in particular upon one of the earliest of Freud's views of the dynamic function of neurotic symptoms. According to that view (which was computably essential to the study of hysteria) the function of the neurotic symptom was to defend the patient's personality against an unconscious tread of thought that was unacceptable to it, while simultaneously gratifying the trend up to a certain point. It seems to follow, therefore, that if the analyst were to investigate and discover the unconscious trend and make the patient aware of it - if he were to make what was unconsciously conscious - the whole raison d être of the symptom would cease and it must automatically disappear. Two difficulties arose, however. In the first place some part of the patient's mind was found to raise obstacles to the process, to offer resistance to the analyst when he tried to discover the unconscious trend, and it was easy to conclude that this was the same part of the patient's mind as had originally repudiated the unconscious trend and had thus necessitated the creation of the symptom. But, in the second place, even when this obstacle might be surmounted, even when the analyst had succeed in guessing or deducing the nature of the unconscious trend, had drawn the patient's attention to it and had apparently made him fully aware of it - even then, it would often happen that the symptom persisted unshaken. The realization of Difficultness has led to important results both theoretically and practically. Theoretically, there were evidently two senses in which a patient could become conscious of an unconscious trend, and the analyst could make him aware of it in some intellectual sense without becoming ‘really' conscious of it. To make this state of things more intelligible, Freud devised a kind of pictorial allegory. He imagined the mind as a kind of map. They pictured the original objectionable trend as moved to one region of this map and the newly discovered information about it, expressed to the patient by the analyst, in another. It was only if these two impressions could be ‘brought together.’ Whatever exactly that might mean, in that the unconscious trend would be ‘really’ made conscious. What prevented this from happening was a force within the patient, a barrier - once, again, evidently the same ‘resistance’ which had opposed the analyst's attempts at investigating the unconscious trend that had contributed to the original production of the symptom. The removal of this resistance was the essential preliminary to the patient's becoming ‘really’ conscious of the unconscious trend. It was at this point that the practice lesson emerged: As pertained to the psychoanalysis the main task is not so much to investigate the objectionable unconscious trend as to get rid of the patient's resistance to it.
 Still, how are we to set about this task of demolishing the resistance? Once, again, by the same process of investigation and explanation that we have already applied to the unconscious trend. However, this time such difficulties do not face us as before, for the forces that are keeping up the regression, although they are to some extent unconscious, do not belong to the unconscious, in the systematic sense, they are a part of the patient's ego, which is co-operating with us, and are thus more accessible. Nonetheless, the existing state of equilibrium will not be upset. The ego will not be induced to do the work of readjustment required of it, unless we are able by our analytic procedure to mobilize some fresh force upon our side.
 What forces can we count upon? The patient's will to recovery, in the first place, which led him to embark upon the analysis, are again of an intellectual consideration that we can bring to his notice. We can make him understand the structure of his symptom and the motives for his repudiation of the objectionable trend. We can point out the fact that these motives are out-of-date and no longer valid: That they may have been reasonable when he was a baby, but are no longer so now that he is grown up. Finally, we can insist that this original solution of the difficulty has only led to illness, while the new one that we propose remains in a certain state ousting of the prospect of health. Such motives these may play a part in inducing the patient to abandon his resistance, nevertheless, it is from an entirely deafened quarter that the decisive factor emerges. This factor, need be, is that of the transference.
 Although from very early times Freud had called attention to the fact that transference manifest of itself in two ways - negatively and positively, a good deal less was said or known about the negative transference than about the positive. This, of course, corresponds to the circumstance that interest in the destructive and aggressive impulses overall, is only a comparatively recent development. They regarded transference predominantly as a ‘libidinal' phenomenon. They suggested that in everyone there subsisting to several unsatisfied libidinal impulses, and that whenever some new person came upon the scene these impulses were ready to attach them to him. This was the account of transference as a universal phenomenon. In neurotics, owing to the abnormally large quantities of unattached libido presents in them, the tendency to transference would be correspondingly greater, and the peculiar circumstances of the analytic situation would further increase it. It was evidently the existence of these feelings of love, thrown by the patient upon the analyst, that provided the necessary extra force to induce his ego to give up its resistances, undo the repressions and adopt a fresh solution of its ancient problems. This instrument, without which no therapeutic result could be obtained, was at once seen to be no stranger: It was in fact the familiar peer of suggestion, which had ostensibly been abandoned long in advance. Now, however, it was being employed in a very different way, in fact in a contrary direction. In pre-analytic days it had aimed at cause an increase in repression, now overcoming the resistance of the ego was put-upon, that is to say, to allow the repression to be removed.
 However, the situation became ever more complicated as more facts about transference became known. In the first place, the feelings transferred turned on to be as various sorts, besides the loving ones there were the hostile ones, which were naturally far from helping the analyst's efforts. Nevertheless, even apart from the hostile transference, the libidinal feelings themselves fell into two groups: Friendly and affectionate feelings that could be conscious, and purely erotic ones that have usually to remain unconscious. These latter feelings, when they became too powerful, stirred up the repressive forces of the ego and thus increased its resistances instead of diminishing them, and in fact produced a state of things that was not easily distinguishable from the damaging negative transference. Beyond all this, in that respect arises in the entireness in the question in a deficiency of permanence of all suggestive treatments. Did not the existence of the transference threaten to leave the analytic patient in that same? In that, by the unending dependence is reliant upon the analyst?
 The discovery that the transference itself could be analysed got over these difficulties. Its analysis, was soon found the most important part of the whole treatment. Making consciously its roots in the repressed unconscious was just possible as making conscious any other repressed material was possible - that is, by inducing the ego to abandon its resistance - and there was nothing self-contradictory in the fact that the force used for resolving the transference was the transference itself. Once it had been made conscious, its unmanageable, infantile, permanent characteristics disappeared: What was left was like any other ‘real’ human relationship. Still, the necessity for constantly analysing the transference became still more apparent from another discovery. It was found that as work went on the transference tended, as it was, to eat up the entire analysis. Often of the patient's libido became concentrated upon his relation to the analyst, the patient's original symptoms were drained of their cathexis, and there appeared instead an artificial neurosis to which Freud gave the name the 'transference neurosis'. The original conflicts, which have on the onset of neurosis, begun to be
re-enacted in the relations to the analyst. Now this unexpected event is far from being the misfortune that at first sight it might be. In fact it gave us our great opportunity. Instead of having to deal as best we may with conflicts of the remote past, which are concerned with dead circumstances and mummified personalities, whose outcome is already determined, we find ourselves involved in an actual and immediate situation, in which we and the patient are the principle character and the development of which is to some extent at least under our control. Yet if we bring it about that in this revivified transference conflict the patient choses a new situation instead of the old one, a solution in which behaviour more replaces the primitive and unadaptable method of repression in contact with reality, then, even after his detachment from the analysis, he can fall back into his former neurosis. The solution of the transference conflict implies the simultaneous solution of the infantile conflict of which it is a new edition. ‘The change,’ says Freud in his Introductory Lectures, is made possible by alternations in the ego occurring consequently of the analyst's suggestions. At the expense of the unconscious, the ego becomes wider by the work of interpretation that brings the unconscious material into consciousness: Through education it becomes reconciled to the libido and is made willing to grant it a certain degree of satisfaction, and its horror of the claims of its libido is lessoned in sublimation. The additional are nearly the courses of the treatment that corresponds with this ideal description, and the greater will be the success of the psychoanalytic therapy. At the time Freud had written these words, was made quite clear that in writing this script he held that the ultimate factor in the therapeutic action of the psychoanalysis was suggestion by the analyst acting upon the patient's ego in a way that makes it more tolerant of the libidinal trends.
 In the years that have passed since he wrote this passage Freud was to produce an extremely small bearing that had been directly on the subject, and that little goes to show that he has not altered his views on the main principles involved. However, it is, nonetheless, the additional lectures published most recently that he explicitly states that he has nothing to add to the theoretical discussion upon therapy given in the original lectures fifteen years earlier. While there has in the interval been a considerable further development of his theoretical opinions, and especially in the region of ego-psychology. He had, in particular, formulated the idea of the super-ego. The restatement in super-ego terms of the principles of therapeutics that he laid down in the period of resistance analysis may not involve many changes. It is, nevertheless, the anticipating that information about the super-ego will be of special interest from our give directions to orient the view as is reasonable: And in two ways. In the first place, it would at first sight seem highly probable that the super-ego should play an important part, direct or indirect, in the setting-up and maintaining of the repressions and resistances the demolition of which has been the chief aim of analysis? An examination confirms this of the classification of the various kinds of resistance made by Freud in Hemmung Symptom und Angst (1926). Of the five sorts of resistance there mentioned it is true that only one is attributed to the direct intervention of the super-ego, but two of the ego-resistances - the repression-resistance and the transference-resistance - although originating from the ego, are as a rule set up by it out of fear of the super-ego? It seems likely enough therefore that when Freud wrote the words that have been of a quotation, to the effect that the favourable change in the patient is made possible by alternations in the ego, he was thinking, in part at all events, of that portion of the ego that he subsequently separated off into the super-ego. Quite apart from this, moreover, to a greater extent Freud's most recently published works, the Group Psychology (1921), there are passages that suggest a different point - namely, that it may be largely through the patient's super-ego that the analyst could influence him. These passages occur in his Discussions on the nature of hypnosis and suggestion. He definitely rejects Bernheim's view that all hypnotic phenomena are traceable to the factor of suggestion, and adopts the alterative theory that suggestion is a partial manifestation of the state of hypnosis. The state of hypnosis, again, is found in certain respects to resemble the state of being in love. There is ‘the same humble subjection, but the same compliance, the same absence of criticism toward the hypnotist as toward the loved object,’ in particular, there can be no doubt that the hypnotist, like the loved object. ‘Having become abounding with the place of the subject's ego-ideal, in the sense that it's most recent of suggestions is a partial form of hypnosis and of suggestion. In that it seems to follow that the analyst owes his effectiveness, at all events in some respect, to his having stepped into the place of the patient's super-ego. Thus, there are two convergent lines of argument that point to the patient's super-ego as occupying a key position in analytic therapy: It is a part of the patient's mind in which a favourable alteration would be likely to lead to an overall improvement, and it is a part of the patient's mind that is especially subject to the analyst's influence.
 Such plausible notions are they followed these up almost immediately after the super-ego made its first debut. Ernest Jones developed them, for instance, in his paper on The Nature of Auto-Suggestion. Soon afterwards Alexander launched his theory that the principle; aim of all psychoanalytic therapy must be the complete demolition of the super-ego and the assumption of its functions by the ego. According to his account, the treatment falls into two phases. Its first phase asserts that they have handed over the function of the patient's super-ego to the analyst, and in the second phase they are passed back again to the patient, but this time to his ego. The super-ego, according to this view of Alexander's (though he explicitly limits his use of the word to the unconscious parts of the ego ideal). Is some fundamental apparatus that is essentially primitive, out of date? And out of touch with reality, which is incapable of adapting itself, which operates automatically, with the monotonous uniformity of a reflex? Any useful functions that it takes measures to put into effect the ego can carry out an action that, and there is therefore nothing to be done with it but to scrap it. This wholesale attack upon the super-ego might be of questionable validity. Its abolishment would probably become more even if that were pragmatically political, and would involve the abolition of most highly desirable mental activities. However, the idea that the analyst temporarily takes over the functions of the patient's super-ego during the treatment and by doing in some way alters it agrees with the tentative remarks that have already been of mention.
 So, too, do some passages in a paper by Radó upon The Economic Principle in Psycho-Analytic Technique. The second part of this paper, which was to have dealt with the psychoanalysis, has unfortunately never been published, but the first one, on hypnotism and cantharis, contains much that is of interest. It includes a theory that the hypnotic subject introjects the hypnotist if the form of what Radó calls a ‘parasitic super-ego,’ which draws off the energy and takes over the functions of the subject's original super-ego. One feature of the situation brought out by Radó is the unstable and temporary nature of this whole arrangement. If, for instance, the hypnotist gives a command that is too much opposing the subject's original super-ego, the parasite is promptly extruded. In any case, when the state of hypnosis ends, the sway of the parasite super-ego also ends and the original super-ego resumes its dynamical function.
 However debatable may be the details of Radó's description, it not only emphasizes again the notion of the super-ego as the fulcrum of psychotherapy, but it draws attention to the important distinction between the effects of hypnosis and analysis concerning permanence. Hypnosis acts essentially in a temporary way, and Radó's theory of the parasitic super-ego, which does not really replace the original one but merely throws it out of action, gives a very good picture of its apparent workings. Analysis, on the other hand, in so as far as it seeks to affect the patient's super-ego, aims at something very much more afar in reaching and becoming permanent - namely, at an integral change like the patient's super-ego itself. Some even more recent developments in psychoanalytic theory give a hint, so it seems, in that of the kind of line of reasoning, along which we might agree of the question.
 This latest growth of theory has been very much occupied with the destructive impulses and has brought them for the first time into the centre of interest: And attention has art the same time been concentrated on the correlated problems of guilt and anxiety. Especially, are those influenced by such of an idea depicting the elaborate  development of the super-ego and recently developed in retaining Melanie Klein and the importance that she displays the attributes that the narrative and cognitive process of introjection and projection in the development of the personality. The individual, she holds, is perpetually introjecting and projecting the object of its impulses, and the character of the introjected objects depends on the character of the id-impulses directed toward the external object. Thus, for instance, during the stage of a child's libidinal development in which feelings of oral aggression dominate it, its feelings toward its external object will be orally aggressive, and it will then introject the object, and the introjected object will now act (in the manner of a super-ego) in an oral aggressiveness  toward the child's ego. The next event will be the projection of this orally aggressive introjective object back onto the external object, which will now in its turn may be orally aggressive. The fact of the external object being thus felt as dangerous and destructive withal lead to the id-impulse as to adopt an even more aggressive and destructive attitude toward the object in a self-defence. They thus establish a vicious circle. This process seeks to account for the extreme severity of the super-ego in small children, and for their unreasonable fear of outside objects. During the development of the normal individual, his libido eventually reaches the genital stage, at which the positive impulses predominate. His attitude toward his external objects will thus become more friendly, and accordingly his introjected objects (or, the super-ego) will become less severe and his ego's contact with reality will be less distorted. In the neurotic, however, for various reasons - whether because of frustration or of an incapacity of the ego to tolerate id-impulses, or of an inherent excess of the destructive components - development to the genital stage does not occur. However, the individual remains of a savage id on the one hand and a correspondingly savage super-ego on the other, and the vicious circle distinguish its perpetuation. The hypothesis as stated may be useful in helping us to form a visualization upon which not only of the mechanism of a neurosis but also of the mechanism of its cure. There is, nonetheless, nothing new in regarding a neurosis as essentially an obstacle or deflecting force in the path of normal development: Nor is there anything new in the belief that a psychoanalysis, owing to the peculiarity of the analytic situation can reassign the obstacle and so allow the normal development to continue. That being said, it is, nonetheless, in lead to appear of intentions to make our conception a little more precise by assuming the pathological obstacle to the neurotic individuals' further growth is like a vicious circle of the kind the same. If a breach could somehow or other be made in the vicious circle, they would preview the processes of development upon their normal course. If, for instance, they could make the patient less frightened of his super-ego or introjected object, he would project less terrifying imagos onto the outer object and would therefore have less need to feel hostile toward it: The object that he then introjected would in turn be less savage in its pressure upon the id-impulses, which could probably lose something of their primitive ferocity. In short, a benign circle would be set up instead of a vicious one, and ultimately the patient's libidinal development would go on to the genital level, however? As with a normal adult, his super-ego will be comparatively mild and his ego will have a proportionally undistorted contact with reality.
 Nonetheless, at what point in the vicious circle is the breach to be made and how is it to be effected? Altering the character of a person's super-ego is easier said is obvious that than done. Nevertheless, the quotations from earlier discussions have in suggesting that the super-ego will be found to play an important part in the solution of our problem. However, presumption qualities are yet to quantities imputed in the positing affirmation in which they have described considering not to a greater extent then besides a closer nature of what as the analytic-situation will be necessary, the relation between the two persons concerned in it is a highly complex one, and for our present purposes, we are to isolate two elements in it. In the first place, the patient in analysis has of a tendency to centralize the whole of his id-impulses upon the analyst, all the same, no further comment upon this fact or its implications, since they are so immensely familiar, but only to emphasize upon their vital importance to all that follows and go at once to the second element of the analytic situation, which, again will be of an isolate. The patient in analysis tends to accept the analyst in some way or other as a substitute for his own super-ego. At this point, to imitate with a slight difference the convenient phase with which Radó used in his account of hypnosis and to say that in analysis the patient has a propensity to put forth the analyst into an ‘auxiliary super-ego.’ This phrase and the relation decided by it evidently require some explanation.
 When a neurotic patient meets a new object in ordinary life, according to our underlying hypothesis he will be inclined to project onto it his introjected archaic objects and the new object will surmount the extent of an illusory object. It is to be presumed that his introjected objects are essentially separated out into two groups, which function as a 'good' introjected object (or, a mild super-ego) and a 'bad' introjected object (or, a harsh super-ego). According to the degree to which his ego maintains contacts with reality, will project the ‘good’ introjected object onto benevolently real outside objects and the?’bad’ one onto malignantly real outside objects. Since, however, he is by hypothesis neurotic, the 'bad' introjected object will predominate, and will lean heavily toward an externalization of that of which have projected the ‘good’ one, and there will further be a tendency, even where to the generative began with the 'good' object, for the 'bad' one after a time to take its place. Consequently, saying that usually the neurotic's phantasy objects in the outside world will be predominantly dangerous and hostile will be true. Moreover, since even his 'good' introjected objects will be 'good' according to an archaic and infantile standard, and will be to some extent maintained simply for counteracting the ‘bad' object, even his ‘good' phantasy objects in the outer world and its containing surrounding surfaces will be very much out of touch with reality. Going back now to the moment when our neurotic patient meets a new object in real life and supposing (as will is the more usual case) that he projects his 'bad' introjected object onto it - the phantasy external object will then seem to him to be dangerous, he will be frightened of it and, to defend himself against it, will become more angry. Thus, when he introjects this new object in turn, it will merely be adding another terrifying imago to those he has already introjected. The new introjected imago will in fact simply be a duplicate of the original archaic ones, and his super-ego will remain almost exactly as it was. The same will be also true with the necessary changes made where he begins by projection with which his ‘good’ introjected object onto the new external object he has met. No doubt, as a result, there will be a slight strengthening of his kind super-ego at the expense of his harsh one, and to that extent from which will improve his condition. Burt there will be no qualitative change in his super-ego, for the new ‘good’ object introjected will only be a duplicate of an archaic original and will only reinforce the archaic ‘good’ super-ego already present?
 The effect when the neurotic patient contacts a new object in analysis is from the first moment to create a different situation. His super-ego is in any case either homogeneous or well organized: we have previously oversimplified the account we have given of it and schematic. Effectively, it has derived the introjected imago that goes to make it up from a variety of stages of his history and function to some extent independently. Now, owing to the peculiarities of the analytic circumstance and of the analyst's behaviour, the introjected imago of the analyst tends in part to be quite definitely separated off from the rest of the patient's super-ego. (This, of course, presupposes a certain degree of contact with reality on his part. Here we have one fundamental criterion of accessibility to analytic treatment: Another, which we have already implicitly noticed, is the patient's ability to attach his id-impulses to the analyst.) This separation between the imago of the introjected analyst and the rest of the patient's super-ego becomes evident at quite an early stage of the treatment, for instance, about the fundamental rule of free-association. The new bit of super-ego tells the patient that benevolent characteristics have allowed him to say anything that may come into his head. This works satisfactorily for a little, but soon there comes a conflict between the new bit and the rest, for the original super-ego says: ‘You must not say this, for, if you do, you will be using an obscene word or betraying so-ans-so's confidences.’ The separation off the new but - we have generally called what the ‘auxiliary’ super-ego - as been inclined to persevere the very reason that it usually operates in a different direction from the rest of the super-ego. This is true not only of the ‘harsh’ super-ego but also of the ‘mild’ one. For, though the auxiliary super-ego is in fact kindly, it is not kindly in the same archaic way as the case's patients introjected ‘good’ imagos. The most important characteristic of the auxiliary super-ego is that its advice to the ego is consistently based upon real and contemporary considerations and this serves to differentiate it from the greater part of the original super-ego.
 In spite of this, the situation is nonetheless extremely insecure. There is a constant tendency for the whole distinction to break down. The patient is liable at any moment to project this terrifying imago onto the analyst just as though he were anyone else he might have met in his life. If this happens, the introjected imago of the analyst will be wholly incorporated into the rest of the patient's harsh super-ego, and the auxiliary super-ego will disappear. Even when the content of the auxiliary super-ego's advice is realized as different from or contrary to that of the original super-ego, very often its quality will be felt for being the one. For instance, the patient may feel that the analyst has said to him: ‘If you do not say whatever comes into your head, I will give you an unconnective cause to end,’ or ‘If you do not become conscious of this piece of the unconscious I will turn you out of the room.’ Nevertheless, labile though it is, and limited as its authority, this peculiar relation between the analyst and the patient' s ego seems to preserve the analyst's appreciation upon that of his main instrument in helping the development of the therapeutic process. What is this main weapon in the analyst's armoury? Its name springs at once to our lips. The weapon is, of course, interpretation.
 What, then, is interpretation? How does it work? Extremely little may be known about or more than is less likened to it, but this does not present an almost universal belief in its remarkable efficacy as a weapon: Interpretation has, it must be confessed, many qualities of a magic weapon. It is, of course, felt as such by many patents. Some of them spend hours at a time in providing interpretations of their own - often ingeniously, illuminating, correct. Others, again, derive a direct libidinal gratification from being given interpretations and may even develop something parallel to a drug addition to them. In non-analytical circles interpretation is usually either scoffed at as something ludicrous, or being revealed of some raging or as a frightening danger. This attitude is shared, in many more tan is often realized, by most analysts. This was particularly revealed by the reactions shown in many quarters when the idea of giving interpretations to small children was first turned over by Melanie Klein. Nonetheless, saying that analysts are inclined to feel interpretation as something extremely powerful whether for good or ill would be true in an overall census, as, perhaps, of our feelings about interpretation as distinguished from our reasoning beliefs. There may be many grounds for thinking that out beliefs seem superficially to be contradictory, and the contradictions do not always spring from different schools of thought. Nevertheless, are manifest of sometimes held simultaneously by one individual. By that, we are told that if we interpret too soon or too rashly, we run the risk of losing a patient: That unless we interpret promptly and deeply we run the risk of losing a patient: That interpretation may cause intolerable and unmanageable outbreaks of anxiety by ‘liberating’ it, that interpretation is the only way of enabling a patient to cope with an unmanageable outbreak of anxiety by ‘resolving' it, which interpretations must always refer to material on the very point of emerging into consciousness, that the most useful interpretations are really deep ones? : ‘Be cautious with your interpretations’ says one voice: ‘When is doubt, interpreted’ says another? Nevertheless, although there is evidently a good deal of confusion in all of this, but it is nonetheless, that the various pieces of advice that may turn out to refer to different circumstances and different cases and to imply in the different uses of the word 'interpretation'.
 For the word is evidently used in more than one sense. It is, after all, perhaps, only a synonym for the experienced form as we have already come across - ‘making what is unconsciously conscious,’ and it shares all of that phrase's ambiguities. For in one sense, if you give a German-English dictionary to someone who knows no German, you will be giving him a collection of interpretations, and this, is the kind of sense in which the nature of interpretation has been discussed in a recent paper by Bernfeld. Such descriptive interpretations have evidently no relevance to our present topic. We will continue without much ado to define as clearly as made possible the particular yet peculiar sort of interpretation, of which seems significantly relevant as an actively fundamental instrument of psychoanalytic therapy and to which for convenience makes known by name of 'mutative' interpretations.
 It seems at first glace to give but a schematized outline of what is understood by a mutative interpretation, leaving the details to be filled afterwards, and, with a view to clarify of expositional purposes as an instance the interpretation of a hostile impulse. By virtue of his power (his strictly limited powers) as auxiliary super-ego, the analyst gives permission for a certain small quantity of the patient's id-energy (in our instance, as an aggressive impulse) to become conscious. Since the analyst is also, from the nature of things, the object of the patient's id-impulses, the quantity of these impulses that is now released into consciousness will become consciously directed toward the analyst. This is the critical point. If all goes well, the patient's ego will become aware of the contrast between the aggressive character of his feelings and the real nature of the analyst, who does not behave comparably as the patient's ‘good’ or ‘bad’ archaic object? The patient, which is to say, will become aware of a distinction between his archaic phantasy object and the really external object. The interpretation has now become a mutative one, since it has produced a breach in the neurotic vicious circle. For the patient, having become aware of the lack of aggressiveness in the really external object, can probably diminish his own aggressiveness: The new object that he introjected will be less aggressive, and consequently the aggressiveness of his super-ego will also be diminished. As a further corollary to these events, and simultaneously with them, the patient will obtain access to the infantile materials by which is being re-experienced by him in his relation to the analyst.
 This is the overall scheme of the mutative interpretation. You will hold of notice that in its accountable process in the appearance that fall into two phases. For descriptive purposes it may, or perhaps may be to exceed the question of whether these two phases are in temporal sequence or whether they may not really be two simultaneous aspects of a single event, nonetheless, dealing with them is easier as though they were successive. First, then, there is the phase in which the patient becomes conscious of a particular quantity of id-energy as directed toward the analyst, and secondly, there is the phase in which the patient becomes aware that this id-energy is directed toward an archaic phantasy object and not toward a real one.
 The first phase of a mutative interpretation - that in which part of the patient's id-relation to the analyst is made conscious in virtue of the latter's emplacements as auxiliary super-ego - is complicated and complex. In the classical model of an interpretation, the patient will first be made aware of a state of tension in his ego, will next be made aware that there is a repressive factor at work (that his super-ego is threatening him with punishment), and will only they are made aware of the id-impulse that has stirred upon the protests of his super-ego and so lead to the anxiety in his ego. This is the classical scheme. In actual practice, the analyst finds himself working from all three sides at once, or in irregular succession. At one moment a small portion of the patient's super-ego may be revealed to him in all its savagery, at another the shrinking defencelessness of his ego, yet another form of his attentions may be directed to the attempt that he is making maybe at compensating for his hostility occasionally a fraction of id-energy may even be directly encouraged to break its way through the last remains of an already weakened resistance. There is, however, one characteristic that all these various operations have in common, they are essentially upon a small scale. For the mutative interpretation is inevitably governed by the principle of minimal doses. It is, probably, a commonly agreed clinical fact that alternations in a patient under analysis appear usually to be extremely gradual: We are inclined to suspect sudden and large changes as an indication that suggestive rather than psychoanalytic processes ate at work, the gradual nature of the changes caused in the psychoanalysis will be explained if, in at all, those changes are the result of the summation of most minute steps, each of which correspond to a mutative interpretation. The smallness of each step is in turn imposed by the very nature of the analytic situation. For each interpretation involves the release of a certain quantity of id-energy, and as if by a deficiency of possibilities, the quantity released is too large, the higher unstable of equilibrium that enables the analyst top function as the patient's auxiliary super-ego is bound to be upset. The whole analytic situation will be imperilled, since it is only in virtue of the analyst's acting auxiliary super-ego that these releases of id-energy can occur at all.
 The analyst's attemptive efforts toward consciousness of all at once bring too crucially a quantity of id-energy into the patient's consciousness as a total elucidation that sometime the given juncture that nothing may bechance, or on the other hand there may be an unmanageable result: But in either event will be a mutative interpretation has been effected. In the former case (in which there is apparently no effect) the analyst's power as auxiliary super-ego will not have been strong enough for the job he has set himself. Still, this again, may be for two very different reasons. It can be that the id-impulses he was trying to bring out were not in fact sufficiently urgent at the moment of relative incidence: For, after all, the emergence of an id-impulse depends on two factors - not only on the permission endorsed of the super-ego, but also on the urgency (the degree of cathexis) of the id-impulse itself. This, then, may be one cause of an apparent negative response to an interpretation, and evidently a harmless one. Still, the same apparent result may also be due to something else, in spite of the id-impulse being really urgent, their strength of the patient's own repressive forces (the repression) may have been too great to allow his ego to listen to the persuasive voice of the auxiliary super-ego. Now here we have a situation dynamically identical with the next one we have to consider, though economically different. This next situation is one in which the patient accepts the interpretation, that is, allows the id-impulse into his consciousness, but is immediately overwhelmed with anxiety. This may show itself in several of ways: For instance, the patient may produce some manifest anxiety-attacks, or he may exhibit signs of 'real' anger with the analyst with complete lack of insight, or he may break off the analysis. In any of these cases, the analytic situation will, for the moment at least, have broken down. The patient will be behaving just as the hypnotic subject behaves when, having been ordered by the hypnotist to perform an action too much at variances with his own conscience, he breaks off the hypnotic relations and wakes up from his trance. This stare of things, which is manifest where the patient responds and to render, with which an actual outbreak of anxiety or one of its equivalents, may be latent was it for the patient to show no response. This latter case may be the more awkward of the two, since it is masked, and it may sometimes, be the effect of a greater overdoes of the interpretation than where manifest anxiety arises (though obviously other factors will be determining importance here and in particular the nature of the patient's neurosis). In ascribing this threatened collapse of the analytic situation to an overdose of interpretation, might be more accurate in some ways to ascribe it to an insufficient dose. For what happened is that the second phase of the interpretation process has not occurred: The phase in which the patient becomes aware that his impulse is directed toward an archaic phantasy object and not toward a real one.
 In the second phase of a competed interpretation, therefore, a crucial part is played by the patient's sense of reality, for the successful outcome of that phase depends upon his ability, at the critical moment of the emergence into consciousness of the released quantity of id-energy, to distinguish between his phantasy object and the real analyst. The problem is closely related to one of the extremely liable of the analyst's position as auxiliary super-ego, as the analytic situation is convoked as the time threatening to generate into a ‘real' situation. Nonetheless, this means the opposite of what it appears to the naked eye. It means that the patient is all the time on the brink of turning the ‘real' external object (the analyst) into the archaic one: That is to say, he is on the threshold of projecting his primitive introjected imagos onto him. As far as, the patient effectively does this, the analysts become correspondingly to anyone else that he meets in real life - a phantasy object. The analyst then ceases to posses the peculiar advantage derived from the analytic situation, he will introject like all other phantasy objects into the patient's super-ego, and will no longer be able to function in the particular yet peculiar ways that are essential to the effecting of a mutative interpretation, in this difficulty the patient's sense of reality is an indispensable but a very feeble ally: Yet finds of an improvement in it are on of the things that we hope the analysis will cause. Not submitting it to any unnecessary strain is significantly important, therefore, and that is the fundamental reason that the analyst must avoid any real behaviour that is likely to confirm the patient's view of him as a 'bad' or a 'good' phantasy object. This is perhaps more obvious regarding to the 'bad' object. If, for instance, the analyst were to a shrew that he was really shocked or frightened by one of the patient's id-impulses, the patient would immediately treat him in that respect as a dangerous object and introject him into his archaic severe super-ego. Thereafter, on the one hand, there would be a diminution in the analyst's power to function as an auxiliary super-ego and to allow the patient's ego to become conscious of his id-impulses - that is to say, in his power to cause the first phase of a mutative interpretation, and, on the other hand, he would, as a real object, become sensibly less distinguishable from the patient's ‘bad' phantasy objects and to that extent the carrying through of the second phase of a mutative interpretation would also be made more difficult? Once, again, there are accessorial cases. Supposing the analyst behaves in an opposite way and actively urges the patient to give a free rein to his id-impulses. There is then a possibility of the patient confusing the analyst with the imago of a treacherous parent whose initiatory anticipation encourages him to seek gratification, and then suddenly turns and punishes him. In such a case, the patient's ego may look for defence by itself sudden turning upon the analyst as though he were his id, and treating him with all the severity of which his privileged position. Yet acting really in a way that encourages the patient to project his may be equally unwise for the analyst ‘good' introjected object onto him. For the patient will then experience a tendency to regard him and a good object in an archaic sense and will incorporate him with his archaic 'good' imagos and will use him s a protection against his ‘bad’ ones. In that way, his infantile positive impulses and his negative ones may escape analysis, for there may no longer be a possibility for his ego to make a comparison between phantasies external objects than there is real one. It will perhaps be argued that, with the best will in the world, the analyst, however, careful he may be, will be unable to prevent the patient from projecting these various imagos onto him. This is of course, indisputable, and the whole effectiveness of analysis depends upon its being so. The lesson of these difficulties is merely to remind us that the patient's sense of reality having the narrowest limit. It is a paradoxical fact that the best way of ensuring that his ego will be abler to distinguish between phantasy and reality is to withhold reality from him as much as possible. What is more, it is true. His ego is so weak - so much of the mercy of his id and super-ego - that he can only cope with reality if it is administered in minimal doses. These doses are in fact what the analyst gives him, as interpretation.
 It appears more than possible that an approach to the twin practical problems of interpretation and reassurance may be simplified by this distinction between the two phases of interpretation. Both procedures may, it would appear, be useful or even essential in certain circumstances and inadvisable or even dangerous in others. With interpretation, the first of our hypothetical phases may be said to 'liberate' anxiety, and the second to 'resolve' it. Where a quantity of anxiety is already present or on the point of breaking out, an interpretation, owing to the efficacy of its second phase, may enable the patient to recognize the unreality of his terrifying phantasy object and so to reduce his own hostility and consequently his anxiety. On the other hand, to induce the ego to allow a quantity of id-energy into consciousness is obviously to court an outbreak of anxiety in a personality with a harsh super-ego. This is precisely what the analyst does in the first phase of an interpretation. Regarding ‘reassurance,’ Briefly some problems that arise are in the belief that it is an incidental term in need to be defined as almost as urgently as ‘interpretation', and that it covers several different mechanisms. Nevertheless, in the present connection reassurance may be regarded as behaviour by the analyst calculated making the patient regard him as a 'good' phantasy object rather than as a reason. It might, however, be supposed at first sight that the adoption of some generally felt procedures that are sometimes psychotic cases, nonetheless, an attitude by the analyst might directly favour the prospects of making a mutative interpretation. Yet it is believed that it will be seen on reflection that this is not in fact the case: For precisely, as far as the patient regards the analyst as his phantasy object, the second phase of the interpretation effects that do not happen - since it is of the essence of that phase that in it the patient should make a distinction between his phantasy object and the real one? It is true that his anxiety may be reduced: But, this result will not have been achieved by a method that involves a permanent qualitative change in his super-ego. Thus, whatever tactical importance reassurances may be posses.  It cannot claim to any regarded as an ultimate operative factor in psychoanalytic therapy.
 Still, it must in this place be of notice, that certain other sorts of behaviour by the analyst may be dynamically equivalent to the giving of a mutative interpretation, or to one or other of the two phases of that process. For instance, an ‘active' injunction of the kind contemplated by Ferenczi may amount to an example of the first phase of an interpretation: The analyst is using his peculiar positions to induce the patient to become conscious in an exceptionally self-asserting way of distinct id-impulses that one objection to this form of procedure must be expressed by saying that the analyst has very little control over the dosage of the id-energy that is thus released, and very little guarantees that the second phase of interpretation will follow. He may therefore be unwittingly precipitating one of those critical situations that are always liable to arise, for an incomplete interpretation. Incidently, the same dynamic pattern may arise when the analyst requires the patient to produce a ‘forced' phantasy or even (particular at an early given direction in an analysis) when the analyst asks the patient a question. Here, again, the analyst is in effect giving a blindfold interpretation, which it may prove impossible to carry beyond its first phase. On a different deal in, situations' constantly arising during an analysis in which the patient becomes conscious of small quantities of id-energy without any direct provocation by the analyst. An anxiety situation might then develop, if it were not that the analyst, by his behaviour or, one might say, absence of behaviour, enables the patient to mobilize his sense of reality and make the necessary distinction between an archaic object and a real one. What the analyst is doing before we are equivalent to cause the second phase of an interpretation, and the whole episode may amount to the kind of mutative interpretation. Estimating what proportion of the therapeutic changes that occur during analysis may not be is difficult due too implicit mutative interpretation of this kind. Incidentally, this type of situation seems sometimes to be regarded, incorrectly as an example of reassurance.
 A mutative interpretation can only be applied to an id-impulse that is in a state of bearing down, or of a cathexis. This seems self-evident, for the dynamic changes in the patient's mind inferred by a mutative interpretation can only be caused by the operation of a charge of energy originating in the patient himself: The function of the analyst is merely to ensure that the energy will flow along one channel rather than along another. It follows from this that the purely informative ‘dictionary' type of interpretation will be non-mutative. However, useful it may be as a prelude to mutative interpretations, and this leads to several practical inferences. Each  must be emotionally ‘immediate,’ the patient must experience it s something actual. This requirement, that the interpretation must be 'immediate', may be expressed in another way by saying that interpretations must always represent a directed point of urgency'? At any given moment noticeable of a particular id-impulse will be in activity, this is the impulse that is susceptible of mutative interpretation then, and no other one. It is, no doubt, neither possible nor desirable to giving mutative interpretations at the time, as Melanie Klein has pointed out, it is a most precious quality in an analyst to be able to be at any moment to pick out the point of urgency.
 Still, the facts that every mutative interpretation must deal with an ‘urgent' impulse take us back another to the commonly felt fear of the explosive possibilities of interpretation, and particularly of what is vaguely called ‘deep’ interpretation. The ambiguity of the term, however, need not bother us. It describes, no doubt, the interpretation of material that is either genetically early and historically distant from the patients experience or under an especially heavy weight of repression - material, in any case, which is to arrive at the normal course of things exceedingly inaccessible to his ego and remote from it. There seems reason to believe, moreover, that the anxiety that is liable to be aroused by the approach of intensified material is consciousness and may be of peculiar severity. The question is whether its ‘safe' to interpret such material will, as usual, mainly depend upon whether the second phases of the interpretation can be carried through. In the ordinary run of case, the material that is urgent during the earlier stages of the analysis in not deep. We have to deal first with only the essentially far-going displacements of the deep impulses, and the deep material itself are only reached later and by degree, so that no sudden appearance of unmanageable quantities of anxiety is to be anticipated. In exceptional cases, least of mention, are owing to some peculiarity in the structure of the neurosis, deep impulses may be urgent at some very early stages of the analysis. We are then faced by a dilemma. If we give an interpretation of this deep material, the anxiety produced in the patient may be so great that his sense of reality may not be sufficient to permit of the second phase being accomplished, and the whole analysis may be jeopardised. Nonetheless, it must not be the thought that, in such critical cases as we are now considering, the gruelling necessarily being to an excessive degree avoid the simple but not giving any interpretation or by giving more superficial interpretations of non-urgent materiel or by attempting reassurances. It seems probable, in fact, that these alternative procedures may do little or nothing to avoid the trouble, on the contrary, they may even exacerbate the tension created by the urgency of the deep impulses that are the actual cause of the threatening anxiety. Thus, the anxiety may break out in spite of these palliative efforts and, if so, it will be doing so under the most unfortunate conditions, that is to say, outside the mitigating influences afforded by the mechanisms of interpretation, it is possible, therefore, that, of the two alterative procedures that are open to the analyst faced by such difficultly, the interpretation of the urgent id-impulses, deep though they may be, will be the safer.
 A mutative interpretation must be 'specific', which is to say, detailed and concrete. This is, in practice, a matter of degree. When the analyst embarks upon a given theme, his interpretations cannot always avoid being vague and general to begin with, but working out will be necessary eventually and interpret all the details of the patient's phantasy system. In proportion as this is done, the interpretations will be mutative, and must have the necessity fort apparent repetitions of interpretations already made is readily to be explained by the need for filling the details. So, then, it is possible that some delays which despairing analyst's attribute to the patient's id-resistance could be traced to this source. Apparently vagueness in interpretation gives the defensive forces of the patient's ego the opportunity, for which they are always on the lookout, of baffling the analyst's attempt at coaxing an imploring id-impulse into consciousness, a similarity blunting effect can be produced by certain forms of reassurance, such as the tacking onto an interpretation of an ethnological parallel or of a theoretical explanation: A procedure that may at the last moment turn a mutative interpretation into a non-mutative one. The apparent effect may be highly gratifying to the analyst, but later experience may show that nothing of permanent use has been achieved or even that the patient has been given an opportunity for increasing the strength of his defences. On the face of it, Glover is to argue that, whereas a blatantly inexact interpretation is likely to have no effect at all, an inexact one may have a therapeutic effect of a non-analytic, or anti-analytic, kind by enabling the patient to make a deeper d more efficient repression. He uses this a possible explanation of a fact that has always seemed mysterious, namely, that in the earlier days of analysis, when much that we know of the characteristics of the unconscious was still undiscovered, and when interpretation must therefore have often been inexact, therapeutic results were nevertheless obtained.
 The possibility that Glover argues to serve, is to remind ‘us' more generally of the difficulty of being certain that the effects that follow any given interpretation are genuinely the effects of interpretation a non-transference phenomenon or one kind of another. Reiteratively, it has already confronted us, that many patients derive direct libidinal gratification from interpretation as such: Also, that some striking signs of an abreaction that occasionally follows an interpretation ought not necessarily to be accepted by the analyst as evidence of anything more than that the interpretation has gone home in a libidinal sense.
 The problem is, nonetheless, that of the relation of an abreaction to the psychoanalysis in which is a disputed one. Its therapeutic results seem, up to a point, undeniable. It was from them, that the analysis was born, and even today there are psychotherapists who rely on it almost exclusively. During the War [World War I], in particular, its effectiveness was widely confined in cases of ‘shell-shock.’ It has also been argued often enough that it plays a leading part in cause the results of the psychoanalysis. Rank and Ferenczi, for instance, declared that in spite of all advances in our knowledge abreaction remained the essential agent in analytic therapy. More recently, Reik has supported a similar view in maintaining that ‘the element of surprise is the most important part of analytic techniques.’ A great deal less extreme mental attitude is taken abreactions as one component factor in analysis and in two ways. In the first place, Nunberg in the chapter upon therapeutics in his textbook of the psychoanalysis. However, he, too, regards that the improvement caused by abreaction in the ususal sense of the word, which he plausibly attributes the relief of endo-psychic tensions as due to a discharge of accumulated affect. In the second, he points to a similar relief of tinstone upon a small arising from the actual process of becoming conscious of something previously unconscious, basing himself upon a statement of Freud's that the act of becoming conscious involves a discharge of energy. Yet, Radó appears to regard abreactions as opposed in its function to analysis. He asserts that the therapeutic effect of catharsis is top be attributed to the fact that (with other forms of non-analytic psychotherapy) it offers the patient an artificial neurosis in exchange for his original one, and that the phenomena observable when abreactions occur are akin to those of a hysterical attack. A consideration of the views of these various authorities suggests that what we describe as ‘abreaction' may cover two different processes: One is to a completed discharge as when a dismantling of other libidinal gratifications is first of these that might be regarded (like various other procedures) as an occasional adjunct to analysis, sometimes, no doubt, a useful one, and possibly even as an inevitable accompaniment of mutative interpretations? : Whereas, the second process might be viewed with more suspicion, as an event likely to impede analysis - especially if its true nature were unrecognized. Nevertheless, with either form there seems good reason to believe that the effects of an abreaction are permanent only in cases in which the predominant aetiological factor is an external event: That is to say, that it does not cause any radical qualitative alternation in the patient's mind. Whatever part it may play arriving at the analysis is thus unlikely to be of anything more than an ancillary nature.
 . . . Is it to be understood that no extra-transference interpretation can set in motion the chain of events suggested as the essence of psych-analytic therapy? That is one objective opinion to send forth the relief - what has, of course, already been observed, but never, with enough explicitness - the dynamic distinctions between transference and extra-transference interpretations. These distinctions may be grouped adjoining two heads. The first, extra-transference interpretations are far less likely to be given at the point of urgency. This must necessarily be so, since during an extra-transference interpretation the object of the id-impulse brought into consciousness is not the analyst and is not immediately present, whereas, apart from the earliest stages of an analysis and other exceptional circumstances, the point of urgency is nearly always to be found in the transference. It follows that extra-transference interpretations are proved of being concerned with impulses that are distant both in time and space and are thus likely to be without immediate energy. In extreme instances, they may approach very closely to what has already been described as the handling-over to the patient of a German-English dictionary. However, in the second place, when far since the object of the id-impulse is not existently present, becoming directly aware of the distinction between the real object and the phantasy object is less easy for the patient, extending to emerge of an extra-transference interpretation. Thus it would appear that, with extra-transference interpretations, on the one hand what in having been described as the first phase of a mutative interpretation is less likely to occur, and on the other hand, if the first phase does occur, but the second phase is less likely to follow? In other fields, an extra-transference interpretation is liable to be both less effective and more risky than a transference one. Each of these points deserves a few words of separate examination.
 It is, of course, a matter of common experience among analysts that it is possible with certain patients to continue undefinedly giving interpretations without producing an apparent effect whatever. There is an amusing criticism of this kind of ‘interpretation-fanaticism’ in the excellent historical chapter of Rank and Ferenczi. However, it is clear from their words that what they have in mind are essential extra-transference interpretations, for the burden of their criticism is that such a procedure implies neglect of the analytic situation. This is the simplest of cases, where some wastes off time and energy ids the main result. Still, there are other occasions, on which a policy of giving strings of extra-transference interpretations are apt to lead the analyst into more positive difficulties. Attention was drawn by Reich a few yeas ago in some technical discussions in Vienna to a tendency among inexperienced analysts to get into trouble by eliciting from the patient great quantities, are carried to such lengths that the analysis is brought to an irremediable state of chaos. He pointed out very truly that the material we have to deal; with is stratified and that it is highly important in digging it out not to interfere more than we can help with the arrangement of the strata. He had in mind, of course, the analogy of an incompetent archaeologist, whose clumsiness may obliterate the possibility of reconstructing the history of an important excavation site. Pessimism about the results inwardly imbounding of a clumsy analysis, since there are the essential differences that our material is alive and well, as it was, re-stratify itself of its own accord if it is given the opportunity: That is to say, in the analytic situation. While, some analysts agree as to the presence of the risk, and it may be particularly likely to occur where extra-transference interpretation is excessively or exclusively resorted to. The means of preventing it, and the remedy if it has occurred, lie in returning to transference interpretation at the pint of urgency. For if we can become aware of which of the material is 'immediate' in the sense described, the problem of stratification is automatically solved, and it is a characteristic of most extra-transference material that it has no immediacy and that consequently it is stratification is far more difficult to decipher. The measures suggested by Reich himself for preventing the occurrences of this state of chaos are consistent with or to reassemble of abounding orderly fashion for he stresses the importance of interpreting resistance every bit as the antipathetical essential essence of the id-impulses themselves - and this.  It is substantially a policy laid down at an early stage in the history of analysis. Nonetheless, it is, of course, characterized as a resistance that rise up in relation to the analyst: Thus, the interpretation of a resistance will almost inevitably be a transference interpretation.
 Nonetheless, the most serious risks that arise from the making of extra-transference interpretations are due to the inherent difficulty in completing their second phase or knowing whether their second phase has been completed or not. They are from their nature unpredictable in their effects. There seems, to be a special risk of the patient not carrying through the second phase of the interpretation but of projecting the id-impulse made consciously to the analyst. This risk, no doubt, applies to some extent also to transference interpretations. However, the situation is less likely to arise when the object of the id-impulse is to actualize the present and is moreover the same person as the maker of the interpretation. (We may again recall the problem of ‘deep' interpretation, and point out that its dangers, even in the most unfavourable circumstances, are greatly diminished if the interpretation in question is a transference interpretation.). Moreover, there is more chance of this whole process occurring silently and so being overly looked of an imbounding extra-transference interpretation, particularly in the earliest stages of an analysis. Therefore, being it specially on the alert for transference complications seem important after giving an extras-transference interpretation. This last peculiarity of extras-transference interpretations is in a sense that one of an explicitly important faculty from which is a practical point of view. Because of an account of it that they can be made to act as 'feeders' for the transference situation, and so to pave the way for mutative interpretations. In other fields, by giving an extra-transference interpretation, the analyst can often provoke a situation in the transference of which he can then give a mutative interpretation.
 It must be supposed that because of its attributing qualities to transference interpretations, is therefore maintaining that no others should be made, on the contrary, most of our interpretations are probably outside the transference - though it should be added that it often happens that when on is ostensibly giving an extra-transference interpretation one is implicitly giving a transference one. A cake cannot be made of nothing but currants, and, though it is true that extra-transference interpretations are not for the most mutative parts, and do not of themselves bring a decline about the crucial results that involve a permanent change in the patient's mind, they are not much more than are essential. As to analogy, the acceptance of a transference interpretation corresponds to the capture of a key position, while the extra-transference interpretations correspond to the general advance and to the consolidation of a fresh line of descent made possibly by the capture of the key position. However, when this general advance goes beyond a certain point, there will be another check, and the capture of a further key position will require the progress of its own resuming statue. An oscillation of this kind between transference and extra-transference interpretations will represent the normal course of events in an analysis.
 Although the giving of mutative interpretations may occupy a small portion of psychoanalytic treatment, it will, upon its hypothesis, be the most important part from the point of view of deeply influencing the patient's mind. It may be of interest to consider how a moment that is important to the patient affects the analyst himself. Mrs. Klein has suggested that there must be some quite special internal difficulty to be overcome by the analysts in giving interpretations. This, applies particularly to the giving of mutative interpretations. Showing in their avoidance by psychotherapists of non-analytic schools, but many psychoanalysts will be aware of traces of the same tendency in themselves. It may be rationalized into the difficulty of deciding whether or not the particular moment has come for making an interpretation. However, behind this there is sometimes a lurking difficulty in the actual giving of the interpretation, for in that respect it may be a constant temptation for the analyst to do something else instead. He may ask questions, or he may give reassurances or advice or discourse upon theory, ir he may give interpretations - but, interpretations that are not mutative, extra-transference, interpretations that is non-immediate, or ambiguous, or inexact - or, he may give two or more alternative interpretations simultaneously, or he may give interpretations and show his own scepticism about them. All of this strongly suggests and for the patient, and that he is exposing himself to some great danger in doing so. This in turn, will become intelligible when we reflect that at the here-and-now of interpretation that the analysis is in fact deliberately evoking a quantity of the patient's id-energy while it is aware and factually unambiguous and aimed directly at himself. Such a moment must above all others put to the test, and his relations with being own unconscious impulses.
 In his Fragments of an Analysis of a Case of Hysteria, Freud defines the transference situation in the following major way: ‘What are transferences?’ They are new editions or simulations in the tendencies. Phantasies aroused and made consciously during the progress of the analysis. However, they have this peculiarity, which is  characteristic for the species, that they replace some earlier person by the person of the physician. To put it another way: A whole series of psychological experiences is revived, not as belonging to the past, but as applying to the physician presently.
 In some form or other transference operates first from the last price of life and influence's all human relation, but here I am only concerned with the manifestations of transference in psych-analysis. It is characteristic of psychoanalysis procedure that, as it begins to open roads into the patient's unconscious, his past (in its conscious and unconscious aspects) is gradually being revived. By that his urge to transfer his early experiences, object-relations and emotions, is reinforced and they come to focus on the psychoanalyst: This implies that the patient deals with the conflicts and anxieties reactivated, by making use of the same mechanisms and defences as in earlier situations.
 It follows that the deeper we can penetrate into the unconscious and the further back we can take the analysis, the greater will be our understanding of the transference. Therefore, a brief summary of conclusions about the earliest stages of development is mostly the immediate surface of our field of study.
 The first form of anxiety is of a prosecutory nature. The working of the death instinct within - which according to Freud is directed against the organism - causes the fear of annihilation, and this is the primordial cause of prosecutory anxiety. Furthermore, from the beginning of post-natal life (our concerns are with pre-natal processes) destructive impulses against the object stir up fear of retaliation. Painful external experiences intensify these prosecutory feelings from inner sources, for, from the earliest days onward, frustration and discomfort arouse in the infant the experienced by the infant at birth and the difficulties of adapting him entirely new conditions give to prosecutory anxiety. The comfort and care given after birth, particularly the first feeding experience, are left to come from good forces. In speaking of 'forces', it use is as an alternative adult word for what the young infant dimly conceives of as objects, either good or bad. The infant directs his feelings of gratification and love toward the ‘good’ breast, and his destructive impulses and feelings of persecution toward what he feels to be frustrating, i.e., the 'bad' breast. At this stage splitting processes are at their height, and love and hatred and the good and bad aspects of the breast are largely kept apart from one another. The infant's relative security is based on turning the good object into an ideal one as a protection against the dangerous and persecuting object. This processes - that is to say splitting, denial, omnipotence and idealization - are prevalent during the first three or four-month of life, which we can term the 'paranoid-schizoid position', in these ways at a very early stage prosecutory anxiety and its corollary, idealization, elementally influence object relations.
 The primal processes of projection and introjection, being inextricably linked with the infants' emotions and anxieties, initiate object-relations, by projecting, i.e., deflecting libido and aggression on the mother's breast, and on this given occasion has on achieving to establish the basis for object-relations, by introjecting the object, first the breast, relations to internal objects come into being. The use of the term 'object-relations' is based on the contention that the infant has from the beginning of post-natal life a relation to the mother (although focussing primarily on her breast) which is imbued with the fundamental elements of an object-relation, i.e., loves, hatred, phantasies, anxieties and defences.
 The introjection of the breast is the beginning of superego formation that extends over years. We have grounds for assuming that from the first feeding experience onward, and the infant introjects the breast in its various aspects. The core of the superego is thus the mother's breast, both good and bad. Owing to the simultaneous operation of introjection and projection, relations to external and internal objects interact. The father too, who in a short while plays a role in the child's life, quickly becomes part of the infant's internal world. It is characteristic of the infant's emotional life that there are rapid fluctuations between love and hate: Between external and internal situations: Between perception of reality and the phantasies relating to it, and, accordingly, an interplay between prosecutory anxiety and idealization - both refereeing to inherent or representations of internal and external objects, the idealized object being a corollary of the prosecutory, extremely bad one.
 The ego's growing capacity for integration. Synthesis leads ever more, even during these first few months, to states in which love and hatred, and correspondingly the good and bad aspects of objects, are being synthesized. This gives to the second form of anxiety - depressive anxiety - for the infant's aggressive impulses and desires toward the bad breast (mother) is now felt to be a danger to the good breast (mother) as well. In the second quarter of the first year they have reinforced these emotions, because at this stage the infant increasingly perceives and introjects the mother as a person. In this, are the unduly influences that are most intensified of depressive anxiety, for the infant feels he has destroyed or is destroying a whole object by his greed and uncontrollable aggression. Moreover, owing to the growing syntheses of his emotions, he now feels that these destructive impulses are directed against a loved person, just as the interchangeable relation to the father and other members of the family. These anxieties and corresponding defences are the ‘depressive position,’ which comes to a head about the middle of the first year whose essence is the anxiety and guilt relating to the destruction and loss of the loved internal and external objects.
 It is at this stage, and bound up with the depressive position, that the Oedipus complex sets in. Anxiety and guilt add a powerful impetus toward the beginning of the Oedipus complex. For anxiety and guilt increase the need to externalize (project) bad figures and to internalize (introject) good ones: To attach desire, love, feelings of guilt, and reparative tendencies to some objects, and dislikened intensely and anxiety too other, to find representatives for internal figures in the external world. It is, however, not only the search for new objects that dominates the infant's needs, but also to drive toward new aims: Away from the breast toward the penis, i.e., from oral, desires toward genital ones. Many factors contribute to these developments, the forward drive of the libido, the growing integration of the ego, physical and mental skills and progressive adaptation to the external world. These trends are bound up with the process of symbol formation, which enables the infant to transfer not only interest, but also emotions and phantasies, anxiety and guilt, from one object to another.
 The process described is linked with another fundamental phenomenon governing mental life. It is believed that the pressure exerted by the earliest anxiety situation agrees of the constituent causing to find repetition compulsion. However, its first conclusions about the earliest stages of infancy are a continuation of Freud's discoveries, on certain points, however, divergencies have arisen, one of which is irrelevant to our topic of discussion. I am referring to the contention that object-relations are operative from the beginning of post-natal life.
 Believing it in that the view that autoerotism and narcissism are in the young infant contemporaneous with the first relation to objects - external and internalized may be feasible. Briefly, autoerotism and narcissism include the love for and relation with the internalized good object with which in phantasy forms part of the loved body and self. It is to this internalized object that in autoerotic gratification and narcissistic states a withdrawal takes place? Concurrently, from birth onward, a relation to objects, primarily the mother (her breast) is present. This hypothesis contradicts Freud's notion of autoerotic and narcissistic stages that preclude an object-relation. However, the difference between Freud's view in this is that the statements on this issue are equivocal. In various contexts he explicitly and implicitly expressed opinions that suggest a relation to an object, the mother's breast, preceding autoerotism and narcissism. One reference must suffice, in the first of two Encyclopaedia articles, Freud said? : ‘In the first instance the oral component instinct finds satisfaction by attaching Itself to the sating of the desire for nourishment, and its object is the mother's breast? It then detaches itself, becomes independent. Just when autoerotic, that is, it finds an object in the child's own body.’
 Freud's use of the term object is to some extent quite different from its usage of its same term, however, Freud is referring to the object of an instinctual aim, while, otherwise, in addition, an object-reaction involving the infant's emotions, fantasises, anxieties and defences are nevertheless, in the sentence referred to, Freud clearly speaks of a libidinal attachment to an object, the mother's breast, which precedes auto-ergotism and narcissism.
 Additionally, in this context, Freud's findings are about early identification. In the Ego and the Id, speaking of abandoned object cathexes, Freud said,‘ . . . the effect of the first identification in earliest childhood will be profound and lasting. This leads us back to the origin of the ego-idea . . . '. Wherefrom, Freud then defines the first and most important identifications that lie hidden behind the ego-ideal as the identification with the father, or with the parents, and places them. As he expressed it, in the ‘prehistory of every person'. These formulations come close to what is at first, the introjected object, for by definition identifications is the result of introjection. From the statement, least of mention, and passage quoted from the Encyclopaedia article we that can deduce that Freud, although he did not pursue this line of thought further, did assume that in earliest infancy both an object and introjective processes play a part.
 That is to say, as for autoerotism and narcissism we meet with an inconsistency in Freud's views. Too so extreme a degree of inconsistences that exist on sufficiently acceptable points of theory clearly show, which on these particular issues Freud had not yet decided. In respect of the theory of anxiety he sated this explicitly in Inhibitions, Symptoms and Anxiety. His speaking also exemplifies his realization that much about the early stages of development was still unknown or obscure to him of the first years of the girl's life ‘as, . . . lost in a past so dim and shadowy.’
 I do not know Anna Freud's view about this aspect of Freud's work. Yet as for the question of autoerotism and narcissism, she seems only to have taken into account Freud's conclusion that autoerotic. Some narcissistic stages precede object-relations, and not to have allowed for the other possibilities implied in some of Freud's statements such as the ones referred to above. This is one reason that the divergence between Anna Freud's conception as compared among others, concerning notions of early infancy in which are far greater than that between Freud's views, taken as a whole, it may be to mention, because clarifying the extent and nature of the differences between the two schools of psychoanalysis thought represented by Anna Freud and those of the representational statements in visual attractive features implied to this paper is essential. Perhaps, entertaining, but such clarification is required in the interests of psychoanalytic training and because it could help to open fruitful discussions between the psychoanalysis and by that contribute to a greater general understanding of the fundamental problems of early infancy, however.
 The hypothesis at a stage extending over several months precedes object-relations implies - but the libido attached to the infant's own body - impulses, phantasies, anxieties. Defences are either not present in him, or not related to an object, that is to say they would operate in vacua. The analysis of very young children has taught us that there is no instinctual urge, no anxiety situation, no mental process that does not involve objects, external or internal, in other words, object-relations are at the centre of emotional life? Furthermore, love and hatred, phantasies, anxieties and defences are also operative from the beginning of and is Eudunda initio indivisibly linked with object-relations. This insight shows the attractive attention of a new light from which these phenomena are illuminated.
 The immediate conclusion on which the present paper rests holds that transference originates in the same processes that in the earlier stages determine object-relations. Therefore, we have to go back repeatedly in analysis to the fluctuations between objects, love and hatred, external and internal, which dominate early infancy. We can fully appreciate the interconnection between positive and negative transference only if we explored the early interplay between love and hated, and the vicious circle of aggression, anxieties, feelings of guilt and increased aggression, and the various aspects of objects toward whom the conflicting emotions and anxieties are directed. On the other hand, through exploring these early processes it seems convincing that the analysis of the negative transference, which had received proportionally little attention in psychoanalysis technique, is a precondition for analysing the deeper layers of the mind. The analysis of the negative with of the positive transference and of their interconnection is, as analysts have held for many years, an indispensable principle for the treatment of all types of patients, children and adults alike.
 This approach, which in the past made possible the psychoanalysis of very young children, has in recent years proved extremely fruitful for the analysis of schizophrenic patients, until about 1920 the general assumption was assumed that schizophrenic patients were incapable of forming the transference and therefore could not be psychoanalysed. Since then, various techniques had attempted the psychoanalysis of schizophrenics. The most radical change of view in this respect, however, has occurred more recently and is closely connected with the greater knowledge of the mechanisms, anxieties, and defences operative in earliest infancy. Since some of these defences, evolved in primal object relations against love and hatred, have been discovered, the fact that schizophrenic patients can develop both a positive and a negative transference had flowered through its own actualization under which were founded in all its blossoming obtainments, in that of its achieving a better understanding that came into the transference: This finding is confirmed if we consistently apply in the treatment of schizophrenic patients the principle that it is as necessary to analyse the negative as the positive transference, which in fact the one cannot be analysed without the other.
 Retrospectively it can be seen that Freud's discovery of the Life and Death instinct supports these considerable advances in technique in psychoanalytic theory, which has advanced beyond the understanding of the origin of ambivalence. Because the Life and Death instincts, and therefore love and hate, are at bottom in the closed interaction, as we have simply interlinked negative and positive transference.
 The understanding of earliest object-relations and the processes they imply has essentially influenced technique from various angles. It has long been known that the psychoanalyst in the transference situation may stand for mother, father, or other people, that he is also at times playing in the patient's mind the part of the superego, at other times that of the id or the ego. Our present knowledge enables us to penetrate to the specific details of the various roles allotted by the patient to the analyst. There are in fact very few people in the young infant‘s life, but he feels them to be enough objects because they appear to him in different aspects. Accordingly, the analyst may at a given moment represent a part of the self, of the superego or any one of a wide range of internalized figures. Similarly it does not put into effect as far enough if we realize that the analyst stands for the actual father or mother, unless we understand which aspect of the parents has been revered. The picture of the parents in the patient's mind has in varying degrees undergone distortion through the infantile processes of projection and idealization, and has often retained much of its fantastic nature. Although, in the young infant's mind every external experience is interwoven with his phantasies and on the other hand every phantasy contains elements of experience, and is only by analysing the transference situation to its depth that we can discover the past both in its realistic and fantastic aspects. It is also the origin of these fluctuations in easiest infancy that accounts for their strength in the transference, and for the swift changes - sometimes even within one session - between father and female parents, between omnipotently kind objects and dangerous persecutors, between internal and external figures. Sometimes the analyst appears simultaneously to express indirectly of the patient's parents -. There often in a hostile alliance against the patient, under which the negative transference finds great intensity. What has then been revived or has become manifest in the transference in the mixture in the patient's phantasy of the parents as one figure, the ‘combined parent figure,’ results as the phantasy formations characteristics of the earliest stages of the Oedipus complex that, if maintained in strength, are detrimental both to object-relations and sexual development. The phantasy of the combined parents draws its force from another element of early emotional life -, i.e., from the powerful envy associated with flustrational oral desires. Through the analysis of such early situations we learn that in the baby's mind when he is frustrated (or, dissatisfied from inner causes) his frustration is coupled with the feeling that another object (soon represented by the father), is to its line of descent from proceeding from the mother, the coveted gratification and love denied to themselves at that minute. In this context is one root of the phantasies that has combined the parents in an everlasting mutual gratification of an oral, anal, and genital nature. Having then, been regainfully employed as having been viewed in this enlightened manner, is presumptuously the prototype of situations of both envy and jealousy.
 For many years - and this is up to a point still true today - transference was understood as to direct transferences to the analyst in the patient's material. My conception of transference as rooted in the earliest stages of development and in deep layers of the unconscious is much wider and entails a technique by which from the whole material presented the unconscious elements of the transference are deduced. For instance, reports of patients about their everyday life, relations, and activities not only give an insight into the functioning of the ego, but also reveal - if we explode their unconscious content - the defences against the anxieties stirred up in the transference situation. For the patient is bound to deal with conflicts and anxieties' re-experience toward the analyst by the same methods used in the past, which is to say, he turns away from the analyst as he attempted to turn away from his primal objects: He tries to split the relation to him, keeping him either as a good or a bad figure: He deflects some feelings and attitudes experienced toward the analyst onto other people in his current life, and this is part of ‘acting out'.
 It is at this time that the earliest experiences, situations, and emotions from which transference springs. On these foundations, however, are built the later object-relations and the emotional and intellectual developments that require the analyst's attention no less than the earliest ones, that is to say, our field of investigation covers all that lies between the current situation and the earliest experiences. In fact finding access to earliest emotions and object-relations exclude by examining their vicissitudes in the light of later developments is not likely. Its possibilities are only by linking repeatedly (That it means hard and patient work) later experiences with earlier ones and vice versa, it is only by consistently exploring their interplay, that present and past can come together in the patient's mind. This is one aspect of the process of integration that, as the analysis progresses, encompasses the whole of the patient's mental life. When anxiety and guilt diminish and love and hate can be better synthesized, ‘splitting processes’ - a fundamental defensive structure against anxiety - and repression's lesson while the ego gains in strength and coherence: The cleavage between the idealized and prosecutory objects diminishes, the fantastic aspects of objects lose in strength, all of which implies that unconscious phantasy life - less sharply divided off from the unconscious part of the mind - can be better used in ego activities, with a consequently general enrichment of the personality. These differences - as contrasted with the similarities - between transference and the first object-relations cause the repetition compulsion as the pressure put into action by the earliest anxiousness of some situations. When prosecutory and depressive anxiety and guilt diminishes, there is less urge to repeat fundamental experiences over and again, and therefore early patterns and modes of feelings are maintained with less tenacity. These fundamental changes come about through the consistent analysis of the transference: They are bound up with a deep-reaching revision of the earliest object-relations and are reflected in the patient's current life plus the altered attitudes toward the analyst.
 It is however, that we have used the term ‘transference’ several times, and in the last case we attributed the therapeutic results to the transference without further definition of the word. Transference is an integral part of the psychoanalysis. A vast, widely scattered, literature exists on the subject. In most contributions on any psychoanalytic theme there is to be found, often tucked away from easy access, some reference to it. It forms of necessity the main topic of papers and treatises on psychoanalytic technique, but’ . . . it is amazing how small some very extensive psychoanalytic literature is devoted to psychoanalytic technique', states Fenichel, ‘and how much less to the theory of technique.’ No single contribution comprehends all the facts known and the various opinions. This is much more remarkable as differing opinions are held about the mechanism of transference, and its mode of production seems particularly little understood. Without a comprehensive critical evaluation, the student might be bewildered at finding that most authors, before getting to their subject matter, deem it necessary to give their personal interpretations of what they mean by ‘transference' and ‘transference neurosis'. This is well illustrated by Fernichel's book on the theory of the neurosis, which containing more than one thousand six hundred and forty references, quotes only one reference in the sections is on Transference.
 During a psychoanalytic treatment, the patient allows the analyst to play a predominating a role in his emotional life. This is a great import analytic process, after the treatment is over, this situation is changed. The patient builds up feelings of affection for and resistence to his analyst that, in their ebb and flow, so exceed the normal degree of feeling that the phenomenon has long attracted the theoretical interest of the analyst. Freud studied this phenomenon thoroughly, explained it, and gave it the name ‘transference.’
 All the same, the lack of knowledge of the causation of transference appears largely to have gone unnoticed. It seems tacitly to be assumed that the subject is fully understood. Fernichel for instance, writes Freud was at first surprised when he met with the phenomenon of transference, today, Freud's discoveries make it easy to understand it theoretically. The analytic situation induces the development of derivatives of the repressed, and simultaneously a resistance is operative against, . . . the patient misunderstands the present as to the past. If one scrutinizes this frequently quoted reference, one realizes that it does not explain the factors that produce transference. However, illuminating and pointed this and other similes may be, they are descriptive rather than explanatory. The causes of the limited understanding of transference are historical, inherent in the subject matter, and psychological.
 Historically, psychoanalyses developed, a natural way of striving to differentiate it from hypnosis, its precursor, similarities between the two and having to a tendency to be overlooked. The modes of production and the emergence of the transference (positive, negative, and the transference neurosis) were considered and entirely new phenomenon peculiar to the psychoanalysis, and altogether distinct from what occurred in hypnosis.
 In this differentiation from hypnosis, psychoanalysis had to come to terms with the idea of ‘suggestion.’ Many psychoanalytic writers, and more particularly others, have complained about the inaccurate ands inexact use of this term. The greater impetus toward research into ‘suggestion’ came from the study of hypnosis. With the appearance (1886) of Bergheim's book, hypnosis ceased to be considered a symptom of hysteria, the nucleus of hypnosis was established as the effect of suggestion, and it is Bergheim's merit that he showed that all people are subject to the influence of suggestion and that the hysterias differ chiefly in his abnormal susceptibility to it. This seemed to Freud a great advance in recognizing the importance of a mental mechanism in the production of disease. In the introduction he wrote (1888) to his translation into German of Bergheim's book, which is of historical interest because it is believed to be Freud's first publication on a psychological subject. Freud emphasizes the distinguishable importance of Bernheim's, . . . insistence upon the fact that hypnosis. Hypnotic suggestion can be applied, not only to hysterics and to seriously neuropathic patients, but also to most of healthy persons, and his belief that this ‘is calculated to extend the interest of physicians in this therapeutic method far beyond the narrow circle of neuropathologists. The significance of suggestion was thus established, but its meaning had yet to be clarified. Freud tried to find a link between the psychological (somatic) and mental (psychological) phenomena in hypnosis: ‘I think,’ he stated, ‘the shifting and ambiguous use of the word ‘suggestion’ lend to this antithesis a decretive sharpness that it does not in reality posses.’ He then set out to give a definition of suggestion to embrace both its psychological and mental manifestations. Considering what it is worthwhile we can legitimately call a 'suggestion'. No doubt some kind of mental influence is implied by the term, and should correspondingly be put forward the view that what distinguishes the suggestion from other kinds of mental influence, such as a command or the giving of a piece of information or instruction, is that with a suggestion an idea is aroused on another person's brain that is not examined as for its origin but is accepted just as though it had arisen spontaneously in the grain. Freud did not succeed in giving the term a clear and unequivocal definition.
 The psychological phenomena (vascular, muscular, etc.) have yet to be brought under the roof of suggestion, if hypnosis and hysteria were to be claimed for psychology. Psychology functions not subject to conscious control, and Freud's earlier definition of suggestion, did not cover them, so, in this pre-analytic paper, Freud widens the meaning of suggestion by introducing ‘indirect suggestion.’ He says, ‘Indirect suggestions, in which a series of intermediate linked out of the subject's own activity are implied between the external stimulus and the result, are none the less mental posses, but they are no longer exposed to the full light of consciousness that falls upon direct suggestion.’ Noting that the factor of an unconscious operation of suggestion is now introduced for the first time in Freud's whitings is important. If, for example, it is suggested to a patient that he close his eyes, and if then he falls asleep, he has added his own association (sleep follows closing of the eyes) to the initial stimulus. The patient is then said to be subjected to ‘indirect suggestion' because the suggestive stimulus opened the door for a chain of associations in the patient's mind, in other words, the patient reacts to the suggestive stimulus by a series of autosuggestions Freud in his paper, and later, uses the ‘indirect suggestion’ as synonymous with ‘autosuggestions.’
 When suggestion was found by Bernheim to be the basis of hypnosis, it remained to be explained why most but not all persons could be hypnotized, or were susceptible to suggestion, and why some was more readily hypnotizable than others: Thus, besides the activity of the hypnotist, a factor inherent in the patient was established and had to be examined. The factor was called the patient's suggestibility. The nature of what went on in the patient's mind during hypnosis was soon made the subject of extensive psychological process. Ferenczi showed that the hypnotist when giving a command is relacing the subject's parental imagos and, more important, is so accepted by the patient. Freud concluded that hypnosis is a mutual libidinal tie. He found that the mechanism by which the patient becomes suggestible is a splitting from the ego of the ego-ideal transferred to the suggesters. As the ego-ideal normally has the function of testing reality, this faculty is greatly diminished in hypnosis, and this accounts both for the patient's credulity and his further regression from reality toward the pleasure principle. According to Freud, the degree of a person's ego and ego-ideal, from which to the greater extent is readily an identification with authority. Thus, we find that in the understanding of hypnosis and suggestion the subject's suggestibility came to outweigh the suggesters activities. Earnst Jones, showed that there is no fundamental difference between autosuggestion and allosuggestion, and both make up libidinal regression to narcissism. Abraham, in his paper on Coué, shows that the subjects of this form of autosuggestion regressed to states of obsessional neurosis. McDougal speaks of ‘the subject's attitude of submissiveness as suggestibility.’ As the common factor brought out by all these investigations is regression, defining suggestibility as adaptability by regression seems justifiable.
 In the investigations of hypnosis, the stress has been placed at different times on extrinsic factors (The implanting of an idea or the hypnotist's activities) or on intrinsic factors, i.e., the patient's suggestibility. In fact, whereas the ‘implantation' of a foreign idea, independent of any factors operative within the patient, was first considered to form the whole process of suggestion, the pendulum soon swung to the others extremer, and the endo-psychic process (capacity to regress ) were considered the essence of hypnosis. Through this historical development ‘suggestion’ and ‘suggestibility’ became confused, although suggestibility clearly distinctly infers a state or readiness as opposed to the actual process of suggestion. Unfortunately, however, these two terms have crept into psychoanalytic literature as having the same meaning. It is in part due to this fact that the transference phenomenons became considered as a spontaneous manifestation to the neglect of precipitating factors. These ambiguities have never been overcome, moreover, they are to same extent responsible for the lack of understanding of the genesis and nature of transference.
 To differentiate the new psychoanalytic technique from hypnosis there was a repudiation of suggestion in the psychoanalysis. Later, however, this was questioned, and the term, suggestion, was reintroduced into psychoanalysis terminology. Freud says that,’ . . . and we have to admit that we have only abandoned hypnosis in our methods to discover suggestion again in the shape of transference,’ and, in another paper, ‘Transference is equivalent to the force called ‘suggestion.’ Still later, ‘It is quite true that a psychoanalysis, like other psychotherapeutic methods, works by means of suggestion, the difference being, however, that it (transference or suggestion) is not the decisive factor.’ While Freud equates here transference and suggestion, he says a little earlier in the same paper: ‘One easily recognizes in transference the same factors that the hypnotists have called ‘suggestibility. Which is the carrier of the hypnotic rapport?’ In his Introductory Lectures, Freud also uses transference and suggestion interchangeably, equally it recognizes that sometimes a given guarantee upon its meaning of suggestion in psychoanalyses by stating that ‘direct suggestion' was abandoned in the psychoanalysis, and that it is used only to uncover instead of covering it, Ernest Jones states that suggestion covers two processes ‘ . . . This, taken for granted is given to the spoken exchange of which is persuasively an ‘affective suggestion,’ of which the latter are the more primary and are necessary for the action of the former. ‘Affective suggestion’ is a rapport that depends on the transference (Übertragung) of certain positive affective processes in the unconscious region of the subject's mind . . . Suggestion plays a part in all methods of treatment of the psychoneurosis except the psychoanalytic one.’ This new terminology does not seem clear. ‘Affective suggestion’ obviously represents ‘suggestibility.’ In the way it is expressed it plainly contradicts Freud's statement about the role of ‘suggestion' in psychoanalysis Freud and Jones was probably in full agreement about what they meant. Nevertheless, this confusing and haphazard use of terms could not but influence adversely the full understanding of analytic transference. One might even take it as proof that transference is not fully understood: If it were, it could be stated simply and clearly.
 That Freud was dissatisfied about the definition of transference and suggestion is confirmed by his statement: ‘Having kept away from the riddle of suggestion for thirty years, I find on approaching it again that there is no change in the situation . . . The word is finding an ever more extended use, and a looser and looser meaning.’ He introduces yet another differentiation of suggestion ‘as used in the psychoanalysis’ from suggestion in other psychotherapies. As used in psychoanalyses argued Freud - and one is tempted to say by way through the fact that transference is continually analysed in a psychoanalysis and so resolved, inferring that the effects of suggestion are by that undone. This statement found its way into psychoanalysis literature in many places, and gained acceptance as a standard valid argument: The factor of suggestion is held to be eliminated by the resolution of the transference, and this is regarded as the essential difference between the psychoanalysis and all other psychotherapies. However, including it in the definition of suggestion is dubiously scientific, the subsequent relations between therapist and patient, neither is it scientifically precise to qualify ‘suggestion' by its function: Whether the aim of suggestion is that of covering up or uncovering, it is either suggestion or it is not. Little methodological advantage could be gained by using ‘suggestion’ to fit the occasion, and then to treat the terms ‘suggestion,’ ‘suggestibility,’ and ‘transference’ as synonymous. It is therefore not surprising that the understanding of analytic transference has suffered from this persisting inexact and unscientific formulation.
 One must agree with Dalbiez, when he said, ‘The Freudians’ deplorable habit (which they owe, to Freud himself) of identifying transference with suggestion has largely contributed to discrediting psychoanalytic interpretations. The truth is that positive transference causes the most favourable conditions for the intervention of suggestion, but it is hardly identical with it. Dalbiez, gives definition to suggestion as
‘ . . . unconscious and involuntary realization of the content of a representation.’ This neatly condenses the factors that Freud postulated, namely, autosuggestion, direct and indirect suggestion, and their unconscious operation.
 In this historical review, it may be stated, despite ambiguities, it may be generally accepted that in the classical technique of psychoanalysis, suggestion so defined is used only to induce the analysand to realize that he can be helped and that he can remember.
 An important factor responsible for the neglect of the theory of transference was the early preoccupation of analysts with showing the various mechanisms involved in transference. Interest in the genesis of transference was sidetracked by focussing research on the manifestations of resistance and the mechanisms of defence. These mechanisms were often explained as the phenomenon of transference, and their operation was taken to explain its nature and occurrence.
 The neglect of this subject may in part be the result of the personal anxieties of analysis. Edward Glover comments on the absence of open discussion about psychoanalytic technique, and considers the possibility of subjective anxieties.
‘: . . Seemingly much more likely in that so much technical discussion centres round the phenomena of transference and countertransference, both positive and negative.’ There may in addition reach and unconscious endeavour to avoid any active ‘interference’ or, more exactly, to remove any suspicion of methods reminiscent of the hypnotist.
 A survey of the literature within the strict limits of psychoanalysis would simply summarize what has been said about the causation of psychoanalytic transference. Nevertheless, although this can be done, however, it is of doubtful value without a survey first of the literature about transference manifestoes in general, and without a survey of what transference is held to be and to mean. Many and varying differences of opinion obviously coexist and as a result, many differing interpretations would have been to give. However, unfortunately, without a comprehensive critical survey of the subject, in fact, would prove impossible because there are no clear-cut definitions and many differences of opinion about what transference is. This is in part attributable to the state of a growing science and to the fact that most authors approach the subject from one angle only.
 To begin with, there is no consensus about the use of the term ‘transference’ which is called variously 'the transference' 'transference' 'transferences' 'transference state' sometimes as 'analytic rapport.'
 Does transference embrace the whole affective relationship between analyst and analysand, or the more restricted ‘neurotic transference' manifestation? Freud used the term in both senses. To this fact Silverberg recently drew attention, and argued that transference should be limited to ‘irrational' manifestations, maintaining that if the analysand says ‘good morning' to his analyst, including such behaviour under the term transference is unreasonable. The contrary view is expressed: That transference, after the opening stage, is everywhere, and the analysand's every naturally formed process can be given a transference interpretation.
 Can transference be adjusted to reality, or are transference and reality mutually exclusive, so that some action can only be either the one or the other, or can they coexist so that behaviour in accord with reality can be given a transference meaning as on forced transference interpretation? Alexander comes to the conclusion that they are' . . . truly mutually exclusive, just as the more general notion ‘neurosis’ is quite incompatible with that of reality adjusted behaviour.
 Freud divided transference into positive and negative. Fernichel asks this subdivision, arguing that, ‘Transference forms in neurotics are mostly ambivalent, or positive and negative simultaneously.’ Fernichel states further that manifestations of transference ought to be valued by their ‘resistance value,’ noting that ‘ . . . positive transference, although acting as a welcome motive for overcoming resistance, must be looked upon as a resistance in as far as it is transference.’ Ferenczi, on the contrary, after stating that a violent positive transference is, especially in the early stages of analysis, as it is often nothing but resistance, emphasizes that in other cases, and particularly in the later stages of analysis, it is essentially the vehicle by which unconscious striving can reach the surface. Most often the inherent ambivalence of transference manifestations is stresses and looked upon as a typical exhibition of the neurotic personality.
 The next query arises from one special aspect of transference, ‘acting out' in analysis. Freud introduced the term ‘repetition compulsion’ and he says: ‘for a patient in analysis . . . it is plain that the compulsion to repeat in analysis the occurrence of his infantile life disregards the in bounding in every way the pleasure principle.’ In a comprehensive critical survey of the subject, Kubie comes to the conclusion that the whole conception of a compulsion to repeat for the sake of repetition is of questionable value as a scientific idea, and were better eliminated. He believes the conception of ‘repetition compulsion’ involves the disputed death instinct, and that the term is used in psychoanalytic literature with such widely differing connotations that it has lost most, if not all, of its original meaning. Freud introduced the term for the one variety of transference reaction called acting out, but it is, in fact, applied to all transference manifestations. Anna Freud defines transference as: ‘. . . in all, those impulses experienced by the patient in his relation with the analyst that are not newly created by the objective analytic situation but have their sources in early . . . early relations and are now merely revived under the influence of the repetition compulsion. Ought, then, the term ‘repetition compulsion’ be rejected or retained and, if retained, as it applicable to all transference reaction, or to acting out only?
 This leads to the question of whether transference manifestations are essentially neurotic, as Freud most often maintained: ‘The striking peculiarity of neurotics to develop affectionately and hostile feelings toward their analyst are called ‘transference.’ Other authors, however, treat transference as an example of the mechanism of displacement, and hold it to be a ‘normal’ mechanism. Abraham considers a capacity for transference identical with a capacity for adaption that is ‘sublimited sexual transference', and he believes that the sexual impulse in the neurotic is distinguishable from the normal only by its excessive strength. Glover states: ‘Accessibility to human influence depends on the patient's capacity to establish transference, i.e., to repeat undulate current situations . . . Attitudes developed in early family life'. Is transference, then, consequent to trauma, conflict, and repression, and so exclusively neurotic, or is it normal?
 In answer to the question, is transference rational or irrational, Silverberg maintains that transference should be defined as something having the two essential qualities: That it is ‘irrational and disagreeable to the patient'. Fernichel agrees that ‘transference is bound up with the fact that a person does not react rationally to the influence of the outer world'. Evidently, no advantage or clarification of the term ‘transference' has followed its assessment, justly as ‘rational' or otherwise. Unfortunately, the antithesis, ‘rational' versus irrational', was introduced, as it was precisely a psychoanalysis that protested that rational behaviour can be traced to ‘irrational’ roots. What is transferred? Affects, emotions, ideas, conflict, attitudes, experiences? Freud says only effect of love and hate is included. Nevertheless, Glover finds that ‘Up to that date [1937] discussion of transference was influenced for the most part by the understanding of one unconscious mechanism only, that of displacement.’ He concludes ‘that an adequate conception of transference must reflect all the individuals' development . . . he takes upon the place of the analysts, not merely affects and idealizes but all he has ever learned or forgotten throughout his metal development.’ Are these transferred to the person of the analyst, or also to the analytic situation? Is extra-analytic behaviour to be classed as transference?
 Are positive and negative transference felt by the analysand to be an ‘intrusive foreign body,’ as Anna Freud states, in discussing the transference of libidinal impulses, or are they agreeable to the analysand, a gratification so great that they serve as resistance? Alexander concludes that transference gratifications are the greatest source of unduly prolonging analysis, he reminds his readers that whereas Freud initially had the greatest difficulty in persuading his patients to continue analysis, he soon had equally great difficulty in persuading them to give it up.
 Freud divides positive transference into sympathetic and positive transference. The relation between the two is not clearly defined, and sympathetic transference is sometimes called analytic rapport. Do the two merge, or remain distinct: Is sympathetic transference resolved with positive and negative transference? Discussions in the importance of positive transference are the beginning of analysis and as carrier of the whole analysis had lately been revived among child analysts. This has extended to the question of whether or not a transference neurosis in children is desirable or even possible. While this dispute touches on the fundamentals of psychoanalytic theory, the definitions offered as a basis for the discussion are not very precise.
 The contradictions in the literature about transference could be multiplied, but as exemplifying the conspicuous absence of a unified conception they will suffice. Alexander's make to comment that ‘Although it is agreed that the central dynamic functional problem in psychoanalytic therapy is the handling of transference, there is a good deal of confusion about what transference really means'. He comes to the conclusion that the transference relationship becomes identical with a transference neurosis, except that the transient neurotic transference reactions are not usually dignified with the name of ‘transference neurosis.’ He thus questions the need for the term transference neurosis together. As to the transference neurosis itself, there is a similar haziness of the conception. Definitions usually begin with ‘When symptoms loosen up  . . . ,’ or ‘When conflict is reached . . . ,’ or ‘When the productivity of illness becomes centred round one place only, the relation to the analyst  . . . ,’ yet, strictly speaking, such pronouncements are descriptions, not definitions. Freud's definition of transference neurosis implicitly and explicitly refers only to the neurotic person, so that one is left with the impression that only neurotics form a transference neurosis. Sachs, on the contrary,' . . . found the difference between the analyses of training candidates and of negligent neurotic patients.
 It may be historically held that many contradictions in the literature are largely semantic, which in enumerating them haphazardly, discrepancies' brought into false relief. A truer picture, it may be argued, would have been given is historical periods had been made the principle. Developmental stages in a psychoanalysis were of course reflected in current concepts of transference.
 In the very first allusion (1895) to what developed into the notion of transference, Freud says that the patient made ‘a false connection' to the person of the analyst, when an effect became conscious which related to memories that were still unconscious. This connection Freud thought to be due to ‘the associative force prevailing in the conscious mind'. It is interesting that with this first observation Freud had already noted that the effect precedes the factual material emerging from repression. He adds that nothing is disquieting in this because ‘ . . . the patients gradually come to appreciate that in these transferences onto the person of the physician they are subject to a compulsion and a misrepresentation, which vanquishes with the cancellation of analysis.’
 In 1905 Freud stresses the sexual nature of these impulses felt toward the physician. What, he said, are transferences? ‘They are new editions or facsimiles of the tendencies and fantasies aroused and made consciously during the progress of the analysis . . . Fantasies now added to affect. If one goes into the theory of analytic technique,’ he continues, ‘transference is evidently an inevitable necessity.’ At this historic point Freud established the fundamental importance of transference in the psychoanalysis with its specific technical meaning. The importance of this passage is confirmed by a footnote added on 1923. It is noteworthy that Freud mentions in its passage that transference impulses are not only sympathetic or affectionate, but that they can be hostile.
 About 1906 transferences were regarded as a displacement of effect. Analysis was largely interested in unearthing forgotten Traumata and in searching for complexities. Much of the theory was still influenced by the cathartic method. The psychoanalysis was then, says Freud,‘ . . .  the next aim was to compel the patient to confirm the reconstruction through his own memory. In this endeavour the chief emphasis was on the resistance of the patient: The art now lay in unveiling these when possible, in calling the patient's attention to them . . . and teaching him to abandon this resistance. It then became increasingly clear, however, that the bringing into consciousness of unconscious material was not fully attainable by this method either. The patient cannot recall all that lies repressed . . . and so gains no conviction the reconstruction is correct. He is obliged to repeat as a current experience what is repressed instead of recollecting it as a part of the past'. The importance of resistance as acting out is now introduced (repetition compulsion).
 Beyond the Pleasure Principle (1920) was followed by Group Psychology and the Analysis of the Ego (1921) and The Ego and the Id (1923). The new concepts introduced were the superego, and the more specific function of the ego, and the conception of the id as containing not only repressed material, but also as a reservoir of instincts. Resistance was extended to ego and superego and it resistance. This caused some confusion, because it can be used as meaning the resistance of one psychic instance to analysis, or the resistance of one psychic instance, say the ego, to another psychic instance, say the id, but the term resistance has been used chiefly as resistance to the progress of analysis generally. The id was shown to offer no resistance, but to lead to acting out, which in turn, however, is a resistance to recollection. At times, the unconscious can only be recovered in action, and while it is therefore ‘material’ in the strict sense of the word, it is still resistance to verbalized recollection.
 The mechanisms considered operatives in transference were displacement, projection and introjection, identification, compulsion to repeat. The importance of ‘working through’ was stressed. In 1924 discussions took place about the relative values of intellectual insight versus affective re-experiencing as the essence of analytic experience, an issue very important in interpreting the transference to the patient.
 In the period following, this added knowledge was gradually integrated, but with overemphasis on some new aspects as they first arose. Without a comprehensive critical survey of the subject, authors found it necessary to explain what they meant when they used the term ‘transference.’
 With this integration new factors of confusion arose. Viewed arbitrarily form, lets us say 1946, the conception of transference has been influenced by (1), child analysis, (2), undertaking at treating psychotics, (3) psychosomatic medicine, and (4) the disproportions between the number of analysts and the growing number of patients seeking analysis, leading to attempts to shorten the process of analysis.
 Direct interpretation of unconscious content is again being stressed by some analysts of children so that the methods are reminiscent of the beginning of psychoanalysis. Yet on closer examination, there may be a difference in principle: Unconscious material that presents itself in play is given a direct transference meaning from the beginning. The therapist interprets forward, as it was. The interpretation is not from current material, but from the allegedly presented unconscious material to an alleged immediacy of the transference significance. This, it should be noted, is a mental process of the therapist and not of the patient, therefore in the strict scientific sense, it is a matter of countertransference than of transference. Something similar takes place in the classical technique when forced transference interpretations are given, the important difference being that these are used in the classical method only sparingly and never until the transference neurosis is well established, and analysis has become a compulsion. It is precisely at this theoretical, that the dispute is centred among child analysts about the possibility or existence of a transference neurosis among children.
 In the treatment of psychotics the idea of transference is developing a new orientation. In some of these techniques the therapist interprets to himself the meaning of the psychotic fantasy and joins the patient in acting out. Strictly speaking, this is active countertransference.
 In psychosomatic medicine, particularly in ‘short therapy', transference is either discounted  as an actively manipulated way that, from a theoretical point of view, amounts to an abandonment of Freud's ‘spontaneous’ manifestations.
 All and all, changes in the idea of transference are not constructively progressive. Critical attention needs to be drawn to the fact that not only is there no consensus about the concept of transference, but there cannot be until transference is comprehensively studied as a branch of knowledge and as a functional dynamic process. The lack of precision is to some extent due to a disregard of its historical development. Nor can there be a consensus while the relation of transference manifestations to the three stages of analysis is neglected, it is to the detriment of scientific exactitude that divergent groups do not sharply define but as an alternative, it glosses over fundamental differences, there is a tendency to claim orthodoxy, and to hide the deviation behind one tendentiously and arbitrarily selected quotation from Freud.
 In the face of such divergent opinions on the nature and manifestations of transference, one might expect many hypotheses and opinions about how these manifestations come about. However, this is not so. On the contrary, there is the nearest approach to full unanimity and accord throughout the psychoanalysis literature on this point. Transference manifestations are held to arise within the analysand spontaneously. ‘This peculiarity of the transference is not, therefore, says Freud, ‘to be placed to the account of psychoanalytic treatment, but is to be ascribed to the patient's neurosis itself.’ Elsewhere, he makes to point out: ‘In every analytic treatment, the patient develops, without any activity by the analyst, and intense affective relation to him . . . It must not be assumed that analysis produces the transference. . . . The psychoanalytic treatment does not produce the transference, it only unmasks it?’ Ferenczi, in discussing the positive and negative transference says: ‘. . . . It has particularly to be stressed that this process is the patient's own work and is hardly ever produced by the analyst.’ ‘Analytic transference appears spontaneously, and the analysts need only take care not to disturb this process.’ As states, ‘The analyst did not deliberately set out to affect this new artificial formation (the transference neurosis), merely observed that such a process took place and forthwith used it for his own purposes.’ Freud further states: ‘The fact of the transference appearing, although either desired or induced by either physician or patient, in every neurotic who comes under treatment . . . has always seemed as . . . ‘ proof that the source of the propelling forces of neurosis lies in the sexual life.’
 There is, however, a reference by Freud from which one has to infer that he had in mind another factor in the genesis of transference apart from spontaneity - in fact, some outside influence, the analyst ‘ must recognize that the patient's falling in love in induced by the analytic situation  . . . '. He (the analyst) has evoked this love by undertaking analytic treatment in other to cure the neurosis, for him, it is an unavoidable consequence of the medical situation . . . '. Freud did not amplify or specify what importance he attached to this causal remark.
 Anna Freud states that the child's analyst has to woo the little patient to gain its love and affection before analysis can continue, and she says, parenthetically, that something similar takes place in the analysis of adults. Another reference to the effect that transference phenomenon is not completely spontaneous is found in a statement by Glover summarizing the effects of inexact interpretation. He says that the artificial phobic and hysterical formulations resulting from incomplete or inexact interpretations are not an entirely new conception. Hypnotic manifestation has long since been considered ‘an induced hysteria’ and Abraham considered that states of autosuggestion were induced obsessional systems? He continues . . . ‘ and of course, the induction or development of a transference neurosis during analysis is regarded as an integral part of the process,’ one is entitled from the context to assume that Glover commits himself to the view that some outside factors are operative which induce the transference neurosis. Nevertheless, it is hardly a coincidence that it is no more than a hint.
 The impression gained from the literature is that the spontaneity of transference is considered established and generally accepted. In fact, this opinion seems jealously guarded for reasons referred to.
 A psychoanalysis developed from hypnosis: A study of the older psychotherapeutic methods, therefore, may still yield data that are applicable to the understanding psychoanalysis: One cannot overestimate the significance of hypnotism in the development of the psychoanalysis. Theoretically and therapeutically, the psychoanalysis is the trustee of hypnotism. It is in comparing hypnotic and analytic transference that the writer believes the clue to the phenomenon and the production of transference may be found. It was only after hypnosis had been practised empirically for a long time that its mechanism was given explanations by Bernheim, Freud, and Ferenczi. Freud showed that the hypnotist suddenly assumed a role of authority that Standley transformed the relationship for the patient (by way of Traumata) into a parent-child relationship. Radó investigating hypnosis, came to the conclusion that.’
. . . the hypnotist is promoted from being an object of the ego to the position of an ‘a parasitic superego.’ Freud stated, ‘No one can doubt that the hymnodist has stepped into the place of the ‘ego-ideal.’ Later he was to say that ‘ . . . the hypnotic relation is the devotion of someone in love to an unlimited degree but with sexual satisfaction excluded. In other place's Freud stressed repeatedly and with great emphases that in hypnosis factors of a ‘coarsely sexual nature’ were at work, and that the qualities of the libido.’ Psychoanalysis like hypnosis began empirically, one may speculate that analytic transference is a derivative of hypnosis, and motivated by instinctual (libidinal) drives and, substituting new terms, produced in a way comparable to the hypnotic trance.
 When one compares hypnosis and transference, it appears that hypnotic ‘rapport' contains the elements of transference condensed or superimposed. If what makes the patient go to the hypnotist is called sympathetic transference, hypnosis can be said to embrace positive transference and the transference neurosis, and when the hypnotic ‘rapport’ is broken, the manifestations of negative transference. The analogy of course ends when transference is not resolved in hypnosis as it is in analysis, but is allowed to persist. To look upon it from another angle, analytic transference manifestations are some slow motion pictures of hypnotic transference manifestations, they take some time to develop, unfold slowly and gradually, and not at once as in hypnosis. If the hypnotist becomes the patients' ‘parasitic superego,’ similarly, the modification of the analysand's superego has for some time been considered a standard feature of psychoanalyses.
 Styrachey sees in the analyst ‘an auxiliary superego.’ Discussing this and examining projection and introjection of archaic superego formations to the analyst, he says: The analyst' . . . hopes, in short, that he himself will be introjected by the patient as a superego, introjected, however, not at a single gulp and as an archaic object, whether good or bad, but little by little, and as a real person. Another possible similarity between the modes of action of hypnosis and analytic transference is to be found in the state of hysterical dissociation in hypnosis, in the psychoanalysis a splitting of the ego into an experiencing and an observable care that takes its part (which follows the procreation of the superego to the analyst), and takes place. Sterba, stressing the usefulness of interpretation of transference resistance, shows that this takes place through a kind of dissociation of the ego just when these transferences are interpreted. Both in hypnosis and psychoanalysis libidos are mobilized and concentrated in the hypnotic and analytic situation, in hypnosis again condensed in one short experience, while the psychoanalysis at which a constant flow of a libido in the analytic situation is aimed. Ferenczi's ‘active therapy' was intended to increase or keep steady this libidinal flow. Freud first encountered positive transference (love), and only later discovered the negative transference. This sequence is the trued in analysis, and in this there is another analogy to hypnosis. Finally, it is generally recognized that the same type of patient responds to hypnosis as to psychoanalysis, in fact, the hypnotizability of hysterics gave Freud the impetus to develop the psychoanalytic technique, and hysterics are still the paradigms for classical psychoanalytic technique.
 It is comparatively easy today to get a bird's-eye view of the development of analytic transference from hypnotic reactions, and make a comparison between the two. Freud, who had to find his was gradually toward the creation of a new technique, was completely taken by surprise when he first encountered transference in his new technique. He stressed repeatedly and emphatically that these demonstrations of love and of hate emanate from the unaided patients, which they are part and parcel of the ‘neurotic,’ and that they have to be considered a ‘new edition’ of the patient's neurosis. He maintained that these manifestations appear without the analyst's endeavour,  but their obtainability is in spite of him (as they represent resistance), and that nothing will prevent their occurrence. Freud's view is still undisputed in psychoanalytic literature: Thus arose the conception that the analyst did nothing to evoke these reactions, in a marked contradistinction to the hypnotist's direct activities, the analyst offered himself tacitly as a superego in contrasts to the noisy machination of the hypnotist.
 Transference was, in the early days of psychoanalysis, believed to be a characteristic and pathognomonic sign of hysteria. This was a heritage from hypnosis. Later, these same manifestations were found in other neurotic conditions, in the psychoneuroses, or the transference neuroses. When in time psychoanalyses was applied to an ever-widening circle of cases, it was found that students in psychoanalytic training, who did not openly fall into any of these categories, formed transference in the same way? This was explained by the fact that between ‘normal' and ‘neurotic' there is a gradual transition, which in fact we are all potentially neurotic. In this way, historically, the onus of responsibility for the appearance of transference was shifted imperceptibly from the hysteric to the psychoneurotic, and then to the normal personality. When this stage was reached, transference was held to be one many ways in which the universal mental mechanism of displacement was at work. The capacity to ‘transfer’ or ‘displace’ was shown to operate in everybody to a greater or lesser degree: Its use became looked upon as a normal, in fact, an indispensable mechanism. The significance of this shift of emphasis from a hysterical trait to a universal mechanism as the source of transference has, however, not received due attention. It has not aroused much comment nor an attempt to revive the fundamental principles underlying psychoanalytic procedure and understanding.
 Transference is still held to arise spontaneously from within the analysand, just as when psychoanalytic experience embraced only hysterics. It is generally taught that the duty of the analyst is, at best, to allow sufficient time for transference to develop, and not to disturb this ‘natural' process by early interpretation. This role of the analyst is well illustrated in the similes of the analyst as ‘catalyst' (Ferenczi), or as a ‘mirror' (Fernichel).
 It is all the same that if transference is an example of a universal mental mechanism (displacement), or if, in Abraham's sense, it is equated with a capacity for adaption of which everybody is capably which everybody employs at times in varying degrees, why does it invariably occur with such great intensity in every analysis? The answer to this question may be that transference is induced from without in a manner comparable to the production of transfixed hypnosis. The analysand brings, in varying degrees, an inherent capacity, a readiness to form transference, and this readiness is met by something that converts it into an actuality. In hypnosis the patient's inherent capacity to be hypnotized is induced by the command of the hypnotist, and the patient submits instantly. In the psychoanalysis it is neither achieved in one session nor it a matter of obeying. Psychoanalytic technique creates an infantile setting, of which the ‘neutrality’ of the analyst is but one feature among others. To this infantile setting the analysand - if he is, analysable - has to adapt, even if by regression. In their aggregate, these factors, which go to make up this infantile setting, amount to a reduction of the analysand's object world and denial of objects relations in the analytic room. To this deprivation of object relation he responds by curtailing conscious ego functions and giving himself over to the pleasure principle: And following his free association, he is by that sent along the trek into infantile reactions and Mental attitude. The term free-association as defined by Freud are the trends of thought or chains of ideas that spontaneously arise when restraint and censorship upon logical thinking are removed and the individual orally reports everything that passes through his mind. This fundamental technique of advancing the psychoanalysis is assuming that when relieved of the necessity of logical thinking and reporting verbally everything going through his mind, the individual will bring forward basic psychic material and thus make it available to analytic interpretation. As forwarded by hypnotism, in which its theory and practice of inducing hypnosis or a state resembling sleep as induced by physical means.
 Before discussing in detail the factoring constitution of an infantile analytic setting, of which the analysand is uncovered and appreciating the fact that finding the analytic situation is necessarily is common in psychoanalytic literature called one to which the analysand reacts as if it were an infantile one, once, again, Freud describes the infantile expression as that which is maintained by psychoanalysts that ‘this period of life, during which a certain degree of directly sexual pleasure is produced by the stimulation of various cutaneous areas (erotogenic zones), by the activity of certain biological impulses and as an accompanying excitation during many affective states, is designated by an expression introduced by Havelock Ellis as the period of autoerotism. It is, nonetheless, generally understood that the analysand is alone responsible for this attitude? As an explanation of why he should regard it always as an infantile situation, one mostly finds the explanation that the security, the absence of adverse criticism, the encouragements derived from the analyst's neutrality, the allaying of fears and anxieties, create an atmosphere that is conducive to regression, that is to say, the actions of his returning to some earlier level of adaption. Up to the present time, it is usually established in the literature as it is far from being the rule that the analytic couch allays anxieties, nor is the analytic situation always felt as a place of security: The projection of an essentially severe superego onto the analyst is not conducive to allaying fears. Many patients first react with increased anxieties, and analysis is frequently felt by the analysand as fraught with danger both from within and without. Many patients from the start have mutilation and castration anxieties, and at times analysis is equated in the analysand's mind with a sexual attack. The analyst's task is to overcome this resistance, but the analytic situation per se, does not bring it about. In fact, the security of analysis as an explanation of the regression is paradoxical: As in life, security makes for stability, whereas stress, frustration, and insecurity initiate regression. This trend of thought does not run counter to accepted and current psychoanalytic teachings, but it is instead an exposition of Freud's established principles about the conception of neurosis. As used today, this term is interchangeable with the term psychoneurosis. At one time it was used to refer to any somatic disorder of the nerves (the present-day term for this meaning is neuropathy) or to any disorder of nerve function. In psychoanalytic terminology, neurosis is often used more broadly to include all physical disorder: Thus Freud spoke of actual neuroses (Neurasthenia, including hypochondriasis, and anxiety-neurosis): Transference or psychoneuroses (Anxiety-hysteria, conversion-hysteria, obsessional and compulsive neurosis . . . ), narcissistic neuroses (the schizophrenias and manic-depressive psychoses) and traumatic neuroses are each given to psychoanalytical literature, and treatment is aside. The self-contradictory statement, that the security of analysis induces the analysand to regress. It is carried uncritically from one psychoanalysis publication to another.
 These infantile settings are manifold, and they have been described singly by various authors at various times. It is not pretended, that anything new is to add to them but as far as the aggregate has never been described an amounting to a decisive outside influence on the patient. These factors are in this context given in an outline. If only to establish the features of the standardization of their psychoanalytic technique as to (1) Curtailment of an object world. External stimuli are reduced to a minimum (Freud at first asked his patients even to keep their eyes shut). Relaxation on the couch has also to be valued as a reduction of inner stimuli, and as an elimination of any gratification from looking or being looked at. The position on the couch approximates the infantile posture. (2) The constancy of environment, which stimulates fantasy. (3) The fixed routine of the analytic 'ceremonial', the 'discipline' to which the analysand has to conform which is reminiscent of a strict infantile routine. (4) The single factor of not receiving a reply from the analyst is likely to be felt by the analysand as a repetition of infantile situations. The analysand - uninitiated in the technique - will not merely be an anticipatorial answer to his question but he will expect conversation, help, and encouragement and criticism? (5) The timelessness of the unconscious. (6) Interpretations on an infantile level stimulate infantile behaviour. (7) Ego function is reduced to a state intermediate between sleeping and waking. (8) Diminished personal responsibility in analytic sessions. (9) The analysand will approach the analyst in the first place much in the same way as the patient with an organic disease consults his physician: This relationship contains a strong element of magic, a strong infantile element. (10) Free association, liberating unconscious fantasy from conscious control. (11) Authority of the analyst ( parent ): This projection is a loss, or severe restriction of object relations to the analyst, and the analysand is thus forced to fall back on fantasy. (12) In this setting, and having the full sympathetic attention of another being, the analysand will be led to expect, which according to the reality principle he is entitled to do, that he is dependent on and loved by the analyst. Disillusionment is quickly followed by regression. (13) The analysand art first gains an illusion of complete freedom, which he will be unable to select or guide his thoughts at will is one facet of infantile frustration. (14) Frustration of every gratification repeatedly mobilizes the libido and initiates further regressions to deeper levels. The continual denial of all gratification and object relations mobilizes the libido for the recovery of memories. However, its significance lies also in the fact that frustration as this is a repetition of infantile situations, and to the highest degree and likely the most important single factor. Saying that we grow up by frustration would be true. (15) Under these influences, the analysand becomes ever more divorced from the reality principle, and falls under the sway of the pleasure principle.
 These depictions are well implicated to features that exemplify the sufficiencies that the analysand is exposed to an infantile setting in which he is led to believe that he has perfect freedom, which he is loved, and that he will be helped in a way he expects. The immutability of a constant passive environment forces him to adapt, i.e., to regress to infantile levels. The reality value to the analytic session lies precisely in its unchanging unreality, and in its unyielding passivity lies the ‘activity,’ the influence that the analytic atmosphere experts. With this unexpected environment, the patient - if he has, any adaptivity - has to come to terms, and he can do so only by regression. Frustration of all gratifications pervades the analytic work. Freud comments: ‘As far as his relations with the physician are concerned, the patient must have unfulfilled wishes in abundance. It is expectient to deny him precisely those satisfactions that he needs most intensively and expresses most importunately.’ This is a description of the denial of object relation in the analytic room. The present thesis stresses the significance not only of the loss of object relation, but, as a constituent of at least equals importance, the loss of an object world in the analytic room, the various factors of which are set out in above-mentioned-remarks.
 Evidently, all these factors working together from a definite environment under which his loss of an object world, including its surrounding surface and emotional influences, he is subject to a rigid and most sternful environment, not by any direct activity of the analyst, but by the analytic technique. This conception is far removed from the current teaching of complete passivity by the analyst. One may legitimately go one step further and call to mind what Freud said about the etiology of the neuroses:
‘. . . relational causes of disease people fall ill of a neurosis when the possibility of satisfaction for their libido is denied them - they are quickening the ill infringements that is  influential to inconsequential ‘frustrations' - and that their symptoms are substitutes for the missing satisfactions'.
 Regression in the analysand is initiated and kept up by this selfsame mechanism and if, in actual life, a person falls ill of a neurosis because ‘reality frustrates all gratification,’ the analysand likewise responds to the frustrating infantile setting by regressing and by developing a transference neurosis. In hypnosis the patient is suddenly confronted with a parent figure to which he instantly submits. Psychoanalysis places and keeps the analysand in an infantile setting, both environmental and emotional, and the analysand adapts to it gradually in reserve to regression.
 The same may be said to be true of all psychotherapy, yet it appears peculiar to the psychoanalysis that such an infantile setting is systematically created and its influence exerted on the analysand throughout the treatment. Unlikely any other therapist, the analyst remains outside the play that the analysand is enacting, he watches and observes the analysand's reactions and attitudes in isolation. To have created such an instrument of investigation may be looked upon as the most important stroke of Freud's genius.
 It can no longer be maintained that the analysand's reactions in analysis occur spontaneously. His behaviour is a response to the rigid infantile settings to which he is exposed. This poses many problems for a significantly enlarged investigation. One of these is, how does it react on the patient? He must know it, consciously or unconscious mind. It would be interesting to follow up whether perhaps the frequent feeling of being in danger, of losing something, of being coerced, or of being attacked, is a feeling provoked in the analysand in response to the emotional and environmental pressure exerted on him. If this creates a negative transference would be feasible, and as positive transference must exist as well (otherwise treatment would be stopped), a subsequent state of ambivalence must follow. Here one might look for an explanation why ambivalent attitudes are prevalent in analysis. These are generally looked upon as spontaneous manifestations of the analysand's neurosis. Following that this double attitude of the analysand, the positive feelings toward the analyst and analysis, and a negative response to the pressure exerted on him by continual frustration and loss of object-world and object-relations, could be looked upon as the normal sequitur of analytic technique. It would not make up ambivalence in its strict sense, because the patient is reacting to two different objects simultaneously and has not as in true ambivalence two attitudes to the same object. The common appearance of this pseudo ambivalence can then no longer be adduced as evidence of the existence or part of a
pre-analytic neurosis.
 The patient comes to analysis with the hope and expectation of bringing helped. He thus expects gratification of some kind, but none of his expectations are fulfilled. He gives confidence and gets none in return, he works hard and expects praise in vain. He confesses his sins without absolution given or punishment proffered. He expects analysis to become a partnership, but he is left alone. He projects onto the analyst his superego and, least of mention, desirously builds them to the expectations from his guidance and control; of his instinctual drives in exchange, but he finds this hope, is illusory and that he himself has to learn to exercise these powers. It is quite true, assessing the process as a whole, that the analysand is misled and hoodwinked as analysis proceeds. The only safeguard he is given against rebelling and stopping treatment is the absolute certainty and continual proof that this procedure, with all the pressure and frustration it imposes, is necessary for his own good, and that it is an objective method with the sole aim of benefiting him and for no other purpose than his own. In particular, the disinterestedness of the analyst must assure the patient that no subjective factors enter it. In this light, the moral integrity of the analyst, so often stressed, becomes a safeguard for the patient to continue with analysis, it is a technical driving force of analysis and not a moral precept.
 A word might be added about the driving force of analysis in the light of this essay. The libido necessary for continual regression and memory work is looked upon by Freud as derived from the relinquished symptoms. He says that the therapeutic task has two phases: ‘In the first, libido is forced away from the symptoms into the transference and there concentrated: And in the second phase the battle rages round the new object and the libido is again disengaged from the transference object.’ As so often in Freud's statements, this description applies to clinical neurosis, but the psychoanalysis takes the same trends in non-neurotics. The main driving force may be considered derived in every analysis from such libidos as is continually freed by the denial of object-world and by the frustration of libidinal impulses.
 If the conception is accepted that analytic transference is actively induced on a ‘transference-ready' analysand by exposing him to an infantile setting to which he has gradually to adapt by regression, certain conclusions must be encouraged.
 The final incident that occurs before his admission to the hospital, giving him still further reason for anxiety as for change, is his experience of the psychotic symptoms as an overwhelming anxiety-laden and mysterious change. His own anxiety about this frightened away by the seismic disturbance and horror of the members of his family who finds hi ‘changed' by what they see as an unmitigated catastrophe, a nervous or mental ‘breakdown'. Although the therapist can come to see, in retrospect, a potential positive element via this occurrence - namely, the emergence of onetime-repressed insights concerning the true state of affairs involving the patient and his family, none of those participants can integrate so radically changed a picture at that time. Over the preceding years the family members could not tolerate their child's seeing himself and them with the eyes of a normally maturing offspring, and when repressed percepts emerge from repression in him, neither they nor he possesses the requisite ego-strength to accept them as badly needed changes in his picture of himself and of them. Instead, the tumult of depressed percepts foes into the formation of such psychotic phenomena as misidentifications, hallucinations, and delusions in which neither he nor the member of his family can discern the links to reality that we, upon investigation in individual psychotherapy with him, can find in these psychotic phenomena - links, that is, to the state of affairs that has really held sway in the family. Paretically, it should be marked and noted that the psychotic episode often occurs in such ac way as to leave the patient especially fearful of sudden change, for in many instances the de-repressed material emerges suddenly and leads him to damage, in the short space of a few hours or even moments, his life situation so grievously that repair can be affected only very slowly and painfully, over many subsequent months of treatment in the confines of a hospital.
 It should be conveyed, in that the regression of the thought-processes, which occurs as one of the features of the developing schizophrenia, results in an experience of the world so kaleidoscopic as to make up still another reason for the individual's anxiety concerning change. That is, as much as he has lost thee capacity to grasp the essentials of a given whole - to the extent that he has regressed to what Goldstein (1946) terms the ‘concrete attitude' - he experiences any change, even if it is only in an insignificant (by mature standards) detail of that which he perceives, as a metamorphosis that leaves him with no sense of continuity between the present perception and that immediately preceding. This thought disorder, various aspects of which have been described also by Angyal (1946), Kasanin (1946), Zucker (1958), and others, is compared by Werner with the modes of thought that are found in members of so-called primitive cultures (and in healthy children of our own culture): . . . in the primitive mentality, particulars often as self-subsisting things that do not necessarily become synthized into larger entities. . . . The natives of the Kilimanjaro region do not have a word for the whole mountain range that they inhabit, only words for its peaks. . . . The same is reported of the aborigines of East Australia. From each twist and turn of a river has a name, but the language does not permit of a single all-embracing differentiation for the whole river. . . . [He] quotes Radin (1927) as saying that for the primitive man: ‘A mountain is not thought of as a unified whole. It is a continually changing entity' . . . [and, Radin continues, such a man lives in a world that is] ‘dynamic and ever-changing . . . Since he sees the same objects changing in their appearance from day to day, the primitive man regards this phenomenon as definitely depriving them of immutability and self-subsistence' (Werner 1957).
 Langer (1942) has called the symbolic-making function ‘one of man's primary activities, like eating, looking, or moving about. It is the fundamental process of his mind', she says, as she terms the need of symbolization ‘a primary need in man, which other creatures probably do not have'. Kubie (1953) terms the symbolizing capacity ‘the unique hallmark of man . . . capacities', and he states that it is in impairment of this capacity to symbolize that all adult psychopathology essentially consists.
 As for schizophrenia, we find that since 1911 this disease was described by Bleuler (1911) as involving an impairment of the thinking capacities, and in the thirty years many psychologists and psychiatrists, including Vigotsky (1934) Hanfmann and Kasanin (1942) Goldstein (1946) Norman Cameron (1946) Benjamin (1946) Beck (1946) von Domarus (1946) and Angtal (1946) - to mention but a few - has described various aspects of this thinking disorder. These writers, agreeing that one aspect of the disorder consists in over -concreteness or literalness of thought, have variously described the schizophrenic as unable to think in figurative (including metaphorical) terms, or in abstractions, or in consensually validated concepts and symbols, mor in categorical generalizations. Bateson (1956) described the schizophrenic as using metaphor, but unlabelled metaphor.
 Werner (1940) has understood this most accurately matter of regression to a primitive level of thinking, comparable with the found in children and in members of so-called primitive cultures, a level of thinking in which there is a lack of differentiation between the concrete and the metaphorical. Thus we might say that just as the schizophrenic is unable to think in effective, consensually validated metaphor, as too as he is unable to think in terms that are genuinely concrete, free from an animistic forbear of a so-called metaphorical overlay.
 The defensive function of the dedifferentiation that in so characterized of schizophrenic experience, and one find that this fragmentation o experience, justly lends itself to the repression of various motions that are too intense, and in particular too complex, for the weak ego to endure, which must be faced as one becomes aware of change as involving continuity rather than total discontinuity.
 That is, the deeply schizophrenic patient who, when her beloved therapist makes a unkind or stupid remark, experiences him now for being a different person from the one who was there a moment ago - who experiences that a Bad Therapist has replaced the Good Therapist - is by that spared the complex feeling of disillusionment and hurt, the complex mixture of love and anger and contempt that a healthier patient would feel then. Similarly, if she experiences it in tomorrow's session - or even later in the same session - that another good therapist has now come on the scene.  The bad therapist is now totally gone, she will feel none of the guilt and self-reproach that a healthier patient would feel at finding that this therapist, whom she has just now been hated or despising, is after all a person capable of genuine kindness. Likewise, when she experiences a therapist's departure on vacation for being a total deletion of him from her awareness, this bit of discontinuity, or fragmentation, in her subjective experience spars her from feeling the complex mixture of longing, grief, separation-anxiety, rejection, rage and so on, which a less ill patient feels toward a therapist who is absent but of whose existence he continues to be only too keenly aware.
 Finally, such repressed emotions as hostility and lust may readily be seen, as these feelings not easy to hear expressed, as, for instance, the woman, who, at the beginning of her therapy, had been encased for years I flint lock paranoid defenses, become able to express her despair by saying that ‘If I had something to get well for, it would make a difference,’ her grief, by saying, ‘The reason I am afraid to be close to people is because I feel so much like crying’: Her loneliness, by expressing a wish that she would turn an insect into a person, so then she would have a friend.  Her helplessness in face of her ambivalence by saying, to her efforts to communicate with other persons, ‘I feel just like a little child, at the edge of the Atlantic or Pacific Ocean, trying to build a castle - right next to the water. Something just starts to be gasped [by the other person], and then bang! It has gone - another wave. As joining the mainstream of fellow human beings.
 In the compliant charge of bringing forward three hypotheses are to be shown, they're errelated or portray in words as their interconnectivity, are as (1) in the course of a successful psychoanalysis, the analyst goes through a phase of reacting to, and eventually relinquishing, the patient as his oedipal love-object, (2) in normal personality development, the parent reciprocates the child's oedipal love with greater intensity than we have recognized before, and (3) in such normal developments, the passing of the Oedipus complex is at least important a phase in ego-development as in superego-development.
 While doing psycho-analysis, time and again patients who have progressed to, or very far toward, a thorough going analysis to cure, become aware of experiential romantic and erotic desires and fantasies. Such fantasizing and emotions have appeared in a usual but of late in the course of treatment, have been preset not briefly but usually for several months, and have subsided only after having experienced a variety of feelings - frustration, separation anxiety, grief and so forth - entirely akin to those that attended as the resolution of an Oedipus complex late in the personal analysis.
 Psycho-analysis literature is, in the main. Such as to make one feel more, rather than less, troubled at finding in oneself such feelings toward one's patient. As Lucia Tower (1956) has recently noted, . . . Virtually every writer on the subject of countertransference . . . states unequivocally that no form of erotic reaction to a patient is to be tolerated . . .
 Still, in recent years, many writers, such as P. Heimann (1950), M. B. Cohen (1952) and E. Weigert (1952, 1954), have emphasized how much the analyst can learn about the patient from noticing his own feelings, of whatever sort, in the analytic relationship. Weigert (1952), defining countertransference as emphatic identification with the analysand, has stated that . . . ‘In terminal phases of analyses the resolution of countertransference goes hand in hand with the resolution of transference.’
 Respectfully, these additional passages are shown in view of countertransference, in the special sense in which defines the analyst for being innate, inevitable ingredients in the psycho-analytic relationship, in particular, the feelings of loss that the analyst experiences with the termination of the analysis. However, case in point, that the particular variety of countertransference with which are under approach is concerned that of the analyst's reacting as a loving and protective parent to the analysand, reacted too as an infant: There are plausible reasons why in the last phase it is especially difficult to achieve and maintain analytic frankness. The end of analysis is an experience of loss that mobilizes all the resistances in the transference (and in the counter-transference too), for a final struggle. . . . Recently, Adelaide Johnson (1951) described the terminal conflict of analysis as fully reliving the Oedipus conflict in which the quest for the genitally gratifying parent is poignantly expressed and the intense grief, anxiety and wrath of its definitive loss are fully reactivated. . . . Unless the patient dares to be exposed to such an ultimate frustration he may cling to the tacit permission that his relation to the analyst will remain his refuge from the hardships of his libidinal cravings to an aim-inhibited, tender attachment to the analyst as an idealized parent, he can get past the conflicts of genital temptation and frustration.
 . . . . The resolution of the counter-transference permits the analyst to be emotionally freer and spontaneous with the patient, and this is an additional indication of the approaching end of an analysis.
 . . . . When the analyst observes that he can be unrestrained with the patient, when he no longer weighs his words to maintain as cautious objectivity, this empathic countertransference and the transference of the patient are in a process of resolution. The analyst can treat the analysand on terms of equality; he is no longer needed as an auxiliary superego, an unrealistic deity in the clouds of detached neutrality. These are signs that the patient's labour of mourning for infantile attachments nears completion.
 In stressing the point, which before an analysis can properly bring to an end, the analyst must have experienced a resolution of his countertransference to the patient for being a deep beloved, and desired, figure not only on this infantile level that Weigert has emphasized valuably, but also on an oedipal-genital level. Weigeret's paper, which helped to formulate the views that are set down, that is, as expressing the total point that a successful psycho-analysis involves the analyst's deeply felt relinquishment of the patient both as a cherished infant, and for being a fellow adult who is responded to at the level of genital love?
 The paper by L. E. Tower (1956) comes similarly close to the view that, unlike Weigert, limits the term counter-transference to those phenomena that are transferences of the analyst to the patient. It is much more striking, therefore, that she finds even this classification defined countertransference to be innate to the analytic process: . . . . That there is inevitably, naturally, and often desirable, many countertransference developments in every analysis (some evanescent - some sustained), which is a counterpart of the transference phenomena. Interactions (or transactions) between the transference of the patient and the countertransference of the analyst, going on at unconscious levels, may be - or perhaps are always - of vital significance for the outcome of the treatment. . . .
 . . . . Virtually every writer on the subject of countertransference. States unequivocally that no form of erotic reaction to a patient is to be tolerated. This would suggest that temptations in this area are great, and perhaps ubiquitous. This is the one subject about which almost every author is very certain to state his position. Other 'counter-transference' manifestations are not routinely condemned. Therefore, it must be to assume that erotic responses to some extent trouble nearly every analyst. This is an interesting phenomenon and one that call for investigation; nearly all physicians, when they gain enough confidence in their analysts, report erotic feelings and imply toward their patients, but usually do so with a good deal of fear and conflict. . . .
 Of our tending purposes, we are to pay close attention to the libidinal resources that are of our applicative theory, in that large amounts of resulting available libido are necessary to tolerate the heavy task of many intensive analyses. While, we deride almost every detectable libidinal investment made by an analyst in a patient . . . various forms of erotic fantasy and erotic countertransference phenomena of a fantasy and of an affective character are in some experiential ubiquitous and presumably normal. Which lead to suspect that in many - perhaps every - intensive analytic treatment there develops something like countertransference structures (perhaps even a 'neurosis') which are essential and inevitable counterparts of the transference neurosis. These countertransference structures may be large or small in their quantitative aspects, but in the total picture they may be of considerable significance for the outcome of the treatment. They function in the manner of a catalytic agent in the treatment process. Their understanding by the analyst may be as important to the final working through of the transference neurosis as is the analyst's intellectual understanding of the transference neurosis itself, perhaps because they are, so to speak, the vehicle for the analyst's emotional understanding of the transference neurosis. Both transference neurosis and countertransference structure seem intimately bound together in a living process and both must be considered continually in the work that is the psychoanalysis. . . .
 . . . . Seemingly questionable, is any thorough working through a deep transference neurosis, in the strictest sense, which does not involve some form of emotional upheaval in which both patient and analysts are involved. In other words, there are both a transference neurosis and a corresponding Countertransference 'neurosis' (no matter how small and temporary) which are both analyzed in the treatment situation, with eventual feelings of a new orientation by both one another toward any other but themselves.
 Freud, in his description of the Oedipus complex (1900, 1921, 1923), tended largely to give us a picture of the child as having an innate, self-determined tendency to experience, under the conditions of a normal home, feelings of passionate love toward the parent of the opposite sex; we get little hints, from his writings, that in this regard the child enters a mutual relatedness of passionate love with that parent, a relatedness in which the parent's feelings may be of much the same quality and intensity as those in the child (although this relatedness must be very important in the life of the developing child than it is in the life of the mature adult, with his much stronger, more highly differentiated ego and with his having behind him the experience of a successfully resolved oedipal experience during his own maturation).
 Nevertheless, in the earliest of his publications concerning the Oedipus complex, namely The Interpretation of Dreams (1900), Freud makes a fuller acknowledgements of the parent's participation in the oedipal phase of the child's life than does in any of his later writings on the subject’. . . a child's sexual wishes - if in their embryonic stage they deserve to be so described - awaken very early. . . . A girl's first affection is for her father and boy's first childish desires are for his mother. Accordingly, the father becomes a disturbing rival to the boy and the mother to the girl. The parents too give evidence as a rule of sexual partiality: A natural predilection usually sees to it that a man tends to spoil his little daughters, while his wife takes her sons' part; though both of them, where their judgement is not disturbed by the magic of sex, keep a strict eye upon their children's education. The child is very well aware of this patriality and turns against that one of his parents who is opposed to showing it. Being loved by an adult does not merely bring a child the satisfaction of a special need; it also means that he will get what he wants in every other respect as well. Thus, he will be following his own sexual instinct and while giving fresh strength to the inclination shown by his parents if his choice between them falls in with theirs (1900).
 Theodor Reik, in his accounts of his coming to sense something of the depths of possessiveness, jealousy, fury at rivals, and anxiety in the face of impending loss, in himself regarding his two daughters, conveys a much more adequate picture of the emotions that genuinely grip the parent in the oedipal relationship than is conveyed by Freud's sketchy account, as Reik's deeply moving descriptions occupy a chapter in his Listening with the Third Ear (1949), written at the time when his daughters were twelve and six years of age; and a chapter in his The Secret Self (1952), when the oldest daughter was now seventeen.
 Returning to a further consideration of the therapist's oedipal-love  responses to the patient, it seems that these response flows from four different sources. In actual practice the responses from these four tributaries are probably so commingled in the therapists that it is difficult of impossible fully to distinguish one kind from another; the important thing is that he is maximally open to the recognition of these feelings in himself, no matter what their origin, for he can probably discern, in as far as is possible, from where they flow they signify, therefore, concerning the patient's analysis.
 First among these four sources may be mentioned the analyst's feeling-responses to the patient's transference. This, when, as the analysis progresses and the patient enter an experiencing of oedipal love, ongoing, jealousy y, frustration and loss as for the analyst as a parent in the transference, the analyst will experience to at least some degree, response's reciprocally th those of the patient-responses, that is, such for being present within the parent in questions, during the patient's childhood and adolescence, which the parent presumably was not ably to recognize freely and accept within himself. Some writers apply the term 'counter-transference' to such analyst-responese to the patient's transference, unlike others some do not do so.
 The second source consists in the countertransference in the classical sense in which this term  is most often used: The analyst's responding to the patient about transference-feelings carried over from a figure out of the analyst 's own earlier years, without awareness that his response springs predominantly from  this early-life, rather than being based mainly upon the reality of the patient analyst-patient relationship. It is this source, of course, which we wish to reduce to a minimum, by means of thoroughgoing personal analysis and ever-continuing subsequent alertness for indications that our work with a patient has come up against, in us, unanalyzed emotional residues from our past.  This source is so very important, in fact, as to make the writing of such a paper as a somewhat precarious venture. Must expect that some readers will charge him with trying to portray, as natural and necessary to the annalistic process generally, certain analyst-responese that in actuality is purely the result of an unworked-through? Oedipus' complex in himself, which are dangerously out of place in his own work with patients that have no place in the well-analysed analyst's experience with his patient.
 It can only be surmised that although this source may play an insignificant role in the responses of a well-analysed analyst who has conducted many analyses through to completion - to an intensified inclusion as a thoroughgoing resolution of the patient's Oedipus complex - it is probably to be found, in some measure, in every analyst. This is, it seems that the nature and conflictual feeling-experience in this regard - a fostering of his deepest love toward the fellow human being with whom she participates in such prolonged and deeply personal work, and a simultaneous, unceasing, and rigorous taboo against his behavioural expression of any of the romantic or erotic components of his love - as to require almost any analyst's tending to relegate the deepest intensities of these conflictual feelings to his own  unconscious mind, much as were the deepest intensities of his oedipal strivings toward a similar beloved, and similarly unobtainable and rigorously tabooed, parent in particular, and in the hope of the remaining in the analyst's unconscious. That is hoping that this will help analysts - in particular, to a lesser extent-experienced analyst - whereas to some readers awareness, and by that diminution, of this countertransference feeling, as justly dealing with other kinds of countertransference feelings, by such as those wrote by P. Heumann (1950, M. B., Cohen (19520 and E. Weigert (1952?)
 A third source is to be found in the appeal that the gratifyingly improving patient makes to the narcissistic residue in the analyst's personality, the Pygmalion in him. He tends to fall in love with this beautifully developing patient, regarded at this narcissistic level as his own creation, just as Pygmalion fell in love with the beautiful statu e of Galatea that he had sculptured. This source, like the second one that we can expect to holds little sways in the well-analysed practitioner of long experience, but it, too, is probably never absent of great experience and professional standing, than we may like to think. Particularly in articles and books that describe the author's new technique or theoretical concept as an outgrowth of the work with a particular patient, or a very few patients, do we see this source very prominently present in many instances.
 The fourth source, based on the genuine reality of the analyst-patient situation, consists in the circumstance that nearly becomes, per se, a likeable, admirable and insightfully speaking lovable, human being from whom the analyst will soon become separated. If he is not himself a psychiatrist, the analyst may very likely never see him again. Even if he is a professional colleague, the relationship with him will become in many respects far more superficial, far less intimate, than it has been. This real and unavoidable circumstance of the closing analytic work tends powerfully to arouse within the analyst feelings of painfully frustrated love that deserve to be compared with the feelings of ungratifiable love that both child and parent experience in the oedipal phase of the child's development. Feelings from this source cannot properly be called countertransference. They may flow from the reality of the present circumstances but they may be difficult or impossible e to distinguish fully from countertransference.
 There are, then four essentially powerful sources having to promote of the tendency toward the feelings of deep love with romantic and erotic overtones, and with accompanying feelings of jealousy, anxiety, frustration-rage, separation-anxiety, and grief, in the analyst about the patient. These feelings come to him, like all feelings, without tags showing from where they have come, and only if he is open and accepting to their emergence into his awareness does he have a chance to set about finding out their origin and thus their significance in his work with the patient.
 Finally, with which the considerations have been presented so far, a few remarks concerning the passing of the Oedipus complex in normal development and in a successful psycho-analysis.
 In the Ego and the Id (1923) we find italicized a passage in which Freud stresses that the oedipus phase results in the formation of the superego; we find that he stresses the patient's opposition to ther child's oedipal swosh, and lastly, we see this resultant suprerego to be predominantly a severe and forbidding one: The broad general outcome of the sexual phase dominated by the Oedipus complex may, therefore, be taken to be the forming of a precipitating in the ego . . . This modification of the ego
. . . comforts the other contents of the ego as an ego ideal or super-ego.
 . . . . The child's parents, and especially his father, were perceived as the obstacle to verbalizations of his Oedipus wishes, so his infantile ego fortified itself for the carrying out of the repression by building this obstacle within itself. It borrowed the strength to do this, so to seek, from the father, and this loan was an extraordinarily nonentous act. The super-ego retains the character of the father, while the more powerful the Oedipus complex was and the more rapid succumbed to repression (under the influence of authority, religious teachings, schooling and reading), this strictly will be the domination of the super-ego over the ego later on - as conscience or perhaps of an unconscious sense of guilt. . . .
 The subject dealt within the subjective matter through which generative pre-oedipal origins are to be found of the superego, on which has been dealt by M. Klein (1955). E. Jacobson (1954) and others, also apart from that subject, a regard for Freud's above-quoted description as more applicable to the child who later becomes neurotic or psychotic, than to the 'normal'; child. Since we  can assume that there is virtually a wholly complimentary neurotic difficulty, we may then have in assuming that Freud's formation holds true to some degree in every instance. Still, to the extent that a child's relationships with his parents are healthy, he finds the strength to accept the unrealizibilityy of his oedipal strivings, not mainly through the identification with the forbidding rival-parent, but mainly, as an alternative, the ego-strengthening experiences of finding the beloved parent reciprocate his love - responds to him, that is, for being a worthwhile and loveable individual, for being, a conceivably desirable love-partner - and renounces him only with an accompanying sense of loss on the parent's own part. The renunciation, again, something that is mutual experience for the chid and parent, and is made in deference to a recognizedly greater limiting realty, a reality that includes not only the taboo maintained by the rival-parent, but also the love of the oedipal desired parent toward his or her spouse - a love that undeterred the child's birth and a love to which, in a sense, he owes his very existence?
 Out of such an oedipal situation the child emerges, with no matter how deep and painful sense of loss at the recognition that he can never displace the rival-parent and posses the beloved on e in a romantic-and-erotic relationship, in a state differently from the ego-diminished, superego-domination state that Freud described. This child that his love, however unrealized, is reciprocated.  Strengthened, too, out of the realization, which his relationship with the beloved parent has helped him to achieve, that he lives in a wold in which any individual's strivings are encompassed by a reality much larger than he: Freud, when he stressed that the oedipal phase normally results mainly in the formations of a forbidding superego, and if it is resulting mainly in enchantments of the ego's ability to test both inner and outer reality.
 All experiences with both neurotic and psychotic patients had shown that, in every individual instance, in as far as the oedipal phase was entered the course of their past elements, it led to ego impairment rather than ego functioning as primarily because the beloved parent had to repress his or her reciprocal desire for the child, chiefly through the mechanism of unconscious denial of the child's importance to the parent. More often than not, in these instancies, that suggested that the parent would unwittingly act out his or her repressed desires in the unduly seductive behaviour toward the child; yet whenever the parents come close to the recognition of such desires within him, he would unpredictably start reacting to the child as unlovable - undesirable.
 With many of these parents, appears that, primarily because of the parent's own unresolved Oedipus complex, his marriage proved too unsatisfying, and his emotional relationship to his own culture too tenuous, for him to dare to recognize the strength of his reciprocal feelings toward his child during the latter's oedipal phase of development. The child is reacting too as a little mother or father transference-figure to the parent, a transference-figure toward whom the parent's repressed oedipal love feelings are directed. If the parent had achieved the inner reassurance of a deep and enduring love toward his wife, and a deeply felt relatedness with his culture including the incest taboos to which his culture adheres, he would have been able to participate in as deeply felt, but minimally acted out, relationship with the chid in a way that fostered the healthy resolutions of the child's Oedipus complex. Instead, what usually happens in such instances, in that the child's Oedipus complex remains unresolved because the child stubbornly - and naturally - refuses to accept defeat within these particular family circumstances, whereas the acceptance of oedipal defeat is tantamount to the acceptance of irrevocable personal worthlessness and unlovability.
 It seems much clearer, then this former child, now neurotic or psychotic adult, requires from us for the successful resolution to his unresolved Oedipus complex: Not such a repression of desire, acted-out seductiveness, and denial of his own worth as he met in the relationship with his parent, but a maximal awareness on our part of the reciprocal feelings while we develop in response to his oedipal strivings. Our main job remains always, of course, to further the analysis of his transference, but what might be described seems to be the optimal feeling background in the analyst for such analytic work.
 Formidably, when applied not to a moderate degree found in the background of the neurotic person but invested with all the weight of actual biological attributes, have much ado with the person's unconscious refusal to relinquish, in adolescence and young adulthood, his or her fantasied infantile omnipotence in exchange for a sexual identity of - in these-described terms - a 'man' or a 'woman'. It would be like having to accept only certain dispensations as well as salvageable sights, if ony to see the whole fabric ruined into the bargin. A person cannot deeply accept an adult sexual identity until he has been able to find that this identity can express all the feeling-potentialities of his comparatively boundless infancy. This implies that he has become able to blend, for example, his infantile - dependent needs into his more adult erotic strivings, than regard these as mutually exclusive in the way that the mother of the future patient or the persons infant frighteningly feels that her lust has been placed in her mothering. Another difficult facet of this situation resides in a patient's youngful conviction, based on his intrafamiliar experiences, which he can win parental love only if he can become or, perhaps, at an unconscious level remain - a girl; accepting  her sexuality as a woman is equated with the abandonment of the hope of being loved.
 Concerning the warped experiences their persons have and with the oedipal phase of development, calls to our attention of two features. First, the child whose parents are more narcissistic than truly object-related in faced with the basically hopeless challenge of trying to compete with the mother's own narcissistic love for herself, and with the father's similar love for himself, than being presented with a competitive challenge involving separate, flesh-and-blood human beings. Secondly, concerning warped oedipal experiences, in, as far as the parents succeeded in achieving object-relatedness, this has often become only weakly established as a genital level, so that it remains much more prominently at the mother-infant level of ego-development. Thus, the mother, for example, is much more able to love her infant son than her adult husband, and the oedipal competition between husband and son are in terms of who can better become, or remain, the infant whom the mother is capable of loving. When the infant becomes chronologically a young man, having learned that one wins a woman not through genial assertiveness but through regression, he is apt to shy away from entering into true adult genitality, and is tempted to settle for what amounts to 'regressive victory' in the oedipal struggle
 We write much about the analyst's or therapist's being able to identify or empathize with the patient for helping in the resolution of the neurotic or psychotic difficulties. Such writings always portray a merely transitory identification, an empathic sensing of the patient's conflicts, an identification that is of essentially communicative value only. However, it should be seen that we inevitably identify with the patient another fashion also, we identify with the healthy elements in him, in a way that entails enduing, constructive additions to our own personality. Patients - above all schizophrenic patients - need and welcome our acknowledgement, simply and undemonstratively, that they have contributed, and are contributing, in some such significant way, to our existence.
 Increasing maturity involves increasing ability not merely to embrace change in the world around one, but to realize that one is oneself in a constant state of change. By contrast, the recovering, maturing patiently becomes less and less dependent upon any such sharply delineated, static self-image or even a constellation of such images, the answer to the question, ‘Who are you?’ is almost as small, solid, and well defined as a stone, but is a larger, fluid, richly-laden, and sniffingly outlined as an ocean? As the individual becomes well, he comes to realize that, as Henri Bergson (1944) outs it, ‘reality is a perpetual growth, a creation pursued without end. . . . A perpetual becoming,’ and to the extent that he can actively welcome change and let it become part of him, he comes to know that - again in Bergson's phrase - ‘to exist is to change, to change is too mature, to mature is to go on creating oneself endlessly.’
DUBIOSITY
                                                 
Book Four

UNTIMEOUS  DIVINATION

The title presented, has a dramatic quality that does not rest exclusively on the theory of relativity or quantum mechanics. Perhaps, the most startling and potentially revolutionary of implications in human terms is a new perspective on the relationship between mind and the world that is utterly different from that sanctioned by classical physics. René Descartes, for reasons of which was among the first to realize that mind or consciousness in the mechanistic world-view of classical physics appeared to exist in a realm separate and distinct from nature. The prospect was that the realm of the mental is a self-contained and self-referential island universe with no real or necessary connection with the universe itself.
 It also tends the belief . . . that all men dance to the tune of an invisible piper. Yet, this may not be so, as whenever a system is really complicated, indeterminacy comes in, not necessarily because of ‘h', the Planck constant, but because to make a prediction so we must know many things that the stray consequences of studying them will disturb the status quo, due to which formidable comminations can never therefore answer-history is not and cannot be determined. The supposed causes may only produce the consequences we expect. This has rarely been more true of those whose thought and action in science and life became interrelated in a way no dramatist would dare to conceive, this itself has some extraordinary qualities if determinacy, which in physics is so reluctant to accept.
 A presence awaiting to the future has framed its proposed new understanding of the relationship between mind and world within the larger context of the history of mathematical physics, the origin and extensions of the classical view of the fundamentals of scientific knowledge, and the various ways that physicists have attempted to prevent previous challenges to the efficacy of classical epistemology. There is no basis in contemporary physics or biology for believing in the stark Cartesian division between mind and world that some have moderately described as ‘the disease of the Western mind'. The dialectic orchestrations will serve as background for understanding a new relationship between parts and wholes in physics, with a similar view of that relationship that has emerged in the co-called ‘new biology' and in recent studies of the evolution of a scientific understanding to a more conceptualized representation of ideas, and includes its allied ‘content'.
 Descartes, the founder of modern philosophy quickly realized that there appears of nothing in viewing nature that shows possibilities of reconciliation between a full-fledged comparison, as between Plotinus and Whitehead view for which posits of itself outside the scope of concerns, in that the comparability is with the existent idea of ‘God', especially. However, that ‘the primordial nature of God', whom in which is eternal, a consequent of nature, which is in flux, as far as, this difference of thought remains but comprises no bearing on the relationship or either with the quantum theory, as it addresses the actual notion that authenticates the representation of actual entities as processes of self-creation.
 Nonetheless, it seems a strong possibility that Plotonic and Whitehead connect upon the issue of the creation of the sensible world may by looking at actual entities as aspects of nature's contemplation. The contemplation of nature is obviously an immensely intricate affair, involving a myriad of possibilities, therefore one can look at actual entities as, in some sense, the basic elements of a vast and expansive process.
 We could derive a scientific understanding of these ideas with the aid of precise deduction, as Descartes continued his claim that we could lay the contours of physical reality out in three-dimensional co-ordinates. Following the publication of Isaac Newton's ‘Principia Mathematica’ in 1687, reductionism and mathematical modeling became the most powerful tools of modern science. The dream that we could know and master the entire physical world through the extension and refinement of mathematical theory became the central feature and principals of scientific knowledge.
 The radical separation between mind and nature formalized by Descartes served over time to allow scientists to concentrate on developing mathematical descriptions of matter as pure mechanism without any concern about its spiritual dimensions or ontological foundations. Meanwhile, attempts to rationalize, reconcile or eliminate Descartes's merging division between mind and matter became the most central feature of Western intellectual life.
 Philosophers like John Locke, Thomas Hobbes, and David Hume tried to articulate some basis for linking the mathematical describable motions of matter with linguistic representations of external reality in the subjective space of mind. Descartes' compatriot Jean-Jacques Rousseau reified nature as the ground of human consciousness in a state of innocence and proclaimed that ‘Liberty, Equality, Fraternities’ are the guiding principles of this consciousness. Rousseau also fabricated the idea of the ‘general will' of the people to achieve these goals and declared that those who do not conform to this will were social deviants.
 The Enlightenment idea of ‘deism', which imaged the universe as a clockwork and God as the clockmaker, provided grounds for believing in a divine agency, from which the time of moment the formidable creations also imply, in of which, the exhaustion of all the creative forces of the universe at origins ends, and that the physical substrates of mind were subject to the same natural laws as matter. In that the only means of mediating the gap between mind and matter was pure reason, causally by the traditional Judeo-Christian theism, which had previously been based on both reason and revelation, responded to the challenge of deism by debasing tradionality as a test of faith and embracing the idea that we can know the truths of spiritual reality only through divine revelation. This engendered a conflict between reason and revelation that persists to this day. And laid the foundation for the fierce completion between the mega-narratives of science and religion as frame tales for mediating the relation between mind and matter and the manner in which they should ultimately define the special character of each.
 The nineteenth-century Romantics in Germany, England and the United States revived Rousseau's attempt to posit a ground for human consciousness by reifying nature in a different form. Goethe and Friedrich Schelling proposed a natural philosophy premised on ontological Monism ( the idea that adhering manifestations that govern toward evolutionary principles have grounded inside an inseparable spiritual Oneness ) and argued God, man, and nature for the reconciliation of mind and matter with an appeal to sentiment, mystical awareness, and quasi-scientific attempts, as he afforded the efforts of mind and matter, nature became a mindful agency that ‘loves illusion', as it shrouds man in mist, presses him or her heart and punishes those who fail to see the light. Schelling, in his version of cosmic unity, argued that scientific facts were at best partial truths and that the mindful creative spirit that unities mind and matter is progressively moving toward self-realization and ‘undivided wholeness'.
 The British version of Romanticism, articulated by figures like William Wordsworth and Samuel Taylor Coleridge, placed more emphasis on the primary of the imagination and the importance of rebellion and heroic vision as the grounds for freedom. As Wordsworth put it, communion with the ‘incommunicable powers’ of the ‘immortal sea’ empowers the mind to release itself from all the material constraints of the laws of nature. The founders of American transcendentalism, Ralph Waldo Emerson and Henry David Theoreau, articulated a version of Romanticism that commensurate with the ideals of American democracy.
 The American envisioned a unified spiritual reality that manifested itself as a personal ethos that sanctioned radical individualism and bred aversion to the emergent materialism of the Jacksonian era. They were also more inclined than their European counterpart, as the examples of Thoreau and Whitman attest, to embrace scientific descriptions of nature. However, the Americans also dissolved the distinction between mind and natter with an appeal to ontological monism and alleged that mind could free itself from all the constraint of assuming that by some sorted limitation of matter, in which such states have of them, some mystical awareness.
 Since scientists, during the nineteenth century were engrossed with uncovering the workings of external reality and seemingly knew of themselves that these virtually overflowing burdens of nothing, in that were about the physical substrates of human consciousness, the business of examining the distributive contribution in dynamic functionality and structural foundation of mind became the province of social scientists and humanists. Adolphe Quételet proposed a ‘social physics' that could serve as the basis for a new discipline called sociology, and his contemporary Auguste Comte concluded that a true scientific understanding of the social reality was quite inevitable. Mind, in the view of these figures, was a separate and distinct mechanism subject to the lawful workings of a mechanical social reality.
 More formal European philosophers, such as Immanuel Kant, sought to reconcile representations of external reality in mind with the motions of matter-based on the dictates of pure reason. This impulse was also apparent in the utilitarian ethics of Jerry Bentham and John Stuart Mill, in the historical materialism of Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels, and in the pragmatism of Charles Smith, William James and John Dewey. These thinkers were painfully aware, however, of the inability of reason to posit a self-consistent basis for bridging the gap between mind and matter, and each remains obliged to conclude that the realm of the mental exists only in the subjective reality of the individual.
 The fatal flaw of pure reason is, of course, the absence of emotion, and purely explanations of the division between subjective reality and external reality, of which had limited appeal outside the community of intellectuals. The figure most responsible for infusing our understanding of the Cartesian dualism with contextual representation of our understanding with emotional content was the death of God theologian Friedrich Nietzsche 1844-1900. After declaring that God and ‘divine will', did not exist, Nietzsche reified the ‘existence' of consciousness in the domain of subjectivity as the ground for individual ‘will' and summarily reducing all previous philosophical attempts to articulate the ‘will to truth'. The dilemma, forth in, had seemed to mean, by the validation, . . . as accredited for doing of science, in that the claim that Nietzsche's earlier versions to the ‘will to truth', disguises the fact that all alleged truths were arbitrarily created in the subjective reality of the individual and are expressed or manifesting the individualism of ‘will'.
 In Nietzsche's view, the separation between mind and matter is more absolute and total than previously been imagined. Based on the assumption that there is no really necessary correspondence between linguistic constructions of reality in human subjectivity and external reality, he deuced that we are all locked in ‘a prison house of language'. The prison as he concluded it, was also a ‘space' where the philosopher can examine the ‘innermost desires of his nature' and articulate a new message of individual existence founded on ‘will'.
 Those who fail to enact their existence in this space, Nietzsche says, are enticed into sacrificing their individuality on the nonexistent altars of religious beliefs and democratic or socialists' ideals and become, therefore, members of the anonymous and docile crowd. Nietzsche also invalidated the knowledge claims of science in the examination of human subjectivity. Science, he said. Is not exclusive to natural phenomenons and favors reductionistic examination of phenomena at the expense of mind? It also seeks to reduce the separateness and uniqueness of mind with mechanistic descriptions that disallow and basis for the free exercise of individual will.
 Nietzsche's emotionally charged defense of intellectual freedom and radial empowerment of mind as the maker and transformer of the collective fictions that shape human reality in a soulless mechanistic universe proved terribly influential on twentieth-century thought. Furthermore, Nietzsche sought to reinforce his view of the subjective character of scientific knowledge by appealing to an epistemological crisis over the foundations of logic and arithmetic that arose during the last three decades of the nineteenth century. Through a curious course of events, attempted by Edmund Husserl 1859-1938, a German mathematician and a principal founder of phenomenology, wherefor to resolve this crisis resulted in a view of the character of consciousness that closely resembled that of Nietzsche.
 The best-known disciple of Husserl was Martin Heidegger, and the work of both figures greatly influenced that of the French atheistic existentialist Jean-Paul Sartre. The work of Husserl, Heidegger, and Sartre became foundational to that of the principal architects of philosophical postmodernism, and deconstructionist Jacques Lacan, Roland Barthes, Michel Foucault and Jacques Derrida. It obvious attribution of a direct linkage between the nineteenth-century crisis about the epistemological foundations of mathematical physics and the origin of philosophical postmodernism served to perpetuate the Cartesian two-world dilemma in an even more oppressive form. It also allows us better to understand the origins of cultural ambience and the ways in which they could resolve that conflict.
 The mechanistic paradigm of the late n nineteenth century was the one Einstein came to know when he studied physics. Most physicists believed that it represented an eternal truth, but Einstein was open to fresh ideas. Inspired by Mach's critical mind, he demolished the Newtonian ideas of space and time and replaced them with new, ‘relativistic’ notions.
 Two theories unveiled and unfolding as their phenomenal yield held by Albert Einstein, attributively appreciated that the special theory of relativity ( 1905 ) and, also the tangling and calculably arranging affordance, as drawn upon the gratifying nature whom by encouraging the finding resolutions upon which the realms of its secreted reservoir in continuous phenomenons, in additional the continuatives as afforded by the efforts by the imagination were made discretely available to any the unsurmountable achievements, as remain obtainably afforded through the excavations underlying the artifactual circumstances that govern all principle ‘forms' or ‘types' in the involving evolutionary principles of the general theory of relativity ( 1915 ). Where the special theory gives a unified account of the laws of mechanics and of electromagnetism, including optics. Before 1905 the purely relative nature of uniform motion had in part been recognized in mechanics, although Newton had considered time to be absolute and postulated absolute space. In electromagnetism the ether was supposed to give an absolute bases respect to which motion could be determined. The Galilean transformation equations represent the set of equations:
   =     vt
y  = y
z  = z
t  = tThey are used for transforming the parameters of position and motion from an observer at the point ‘O' with co-ordinates ( z, y, z ) to an observer at O  with co-ordinates (   , y  z  ). The axis is chosen to pass through O and O . The times of an event at ‘t' and t  in the frames of reference of observers at O and O  coincided. ‘V' is the relative velocity of separation of O and O . The equation conforms to Newtonian mechanics as compared with Lorentz transformation equations, it represents a set of equations for transforming the position-motion parameters from an observer at a point O (  , y, z) to an observer at O
(   , y , z  ), moving compared with one another. The equation replaces the Galilean transformation equation of Newtonian mechanics in reactivity problems. If the x-axes are chosen to pass through O  and the time of an event are t and t  in the frame of reference of the observers at O and O  respectively, where the zeros of their time scales were the instants that O and O  supported the equations are:
   =  (     vt )
y  = y
z  =z
t  =  ( t   v  / c2 ),
Where ‘v' is the relative velocity of separation of O, O , c is the speed of light, and   is the function
(1   v2 / c2 )-½.
Newton's laws of motion in his ‘Principia,’ Newton ( 1687 ) stated the three fundamental laws of motion, which are the basis of Newtonian mechanics.
The First Law of acknowledgement concerns that all bodies persevere in its state of rest, or uniform motion in a straight line, but in as far as it is compelled, to change that state by forces impressed on it. This may be regarded as a definition of force.
The Second Law to acknowledge is, that the rate of change of linear momentum is propositional to the force applied, and takes place in the straight line in which that force acts. This definition can be regarded as formulating a suitable way by which forces may be measured, that is, by the acceleration they produce,
F = d( mv ) / dt
i.e., F = ma = v( dm / dt ),
Where F = force, m = masses, v = velocity, t = time, and ‘a' = acceleration, from which case, the proceeding majority of quality values were of non-relativistic cases of, dm / dt = 0, i.e., the mass remains constant, and then
F = ma.
The Third Law acknowledges, that forces are caused by the interaction of pairs of bodies. The forces exerted by ‘A' upon ‘B' and the force exerted by ‘B' upon ‘A' are simultaneous, equal in magnitude, opposite in direction and in the same straight line, caused by the same mechanism.
 Appreciating the popular statement of this law in terms of significant ‘action and reaction’ leads too much misunderstanding. In particular, any two forces that happen to be equal and opposite if they act on the same body, one force, arbitrarily called ‘reaction,’ are supposed to be a consequence of the other and to happen subsequently, as two forces are supposed to oppose each other, causing equilibrium, certain forces such as forces exerted by support or propellants are conventionally called ‘reaction,’ causing considerable confusion.
 The third law may be illustrated by the following examples. He gravitational force exerted by a body on the earth is equal and opposite to the gravitational force exerted by the earth on the body. The intermolecular repulsive force exerted on the ground by a body resting on it, or hitting it, is equal and opposite to the intermolecular repulsive force exerted on the body by the ground. More general system of mechanics has been given by Einstein in his theory of relativity. This reduces to Newtonian mechanics when all velocities relative to the observer are small compared with those of light.
 Einstein rejected the concept of absolute space and time, and made two postulates (i) he laws of nature are the same for all observers n uniform relative motion, and (ii) The speed of light in the same for all such observers, independently of the relative motions of sources and detectors. He showed that these postulates were equivalent to the requirement that co-ordinates of space and time used by different observers should be related by Lorentz transformation equations. The theory has several important consequences.
 The transformation of time implies that two events that are simultaneous according to one observer will not necessarily be so according to another in uniform relative motion. This does not affect the construct of its sequence of related events so does not violate any conceptual causation. It will appear to two observers in uniform relative motion that each other's clock runs slowly. This is the phenomenon of ‘time dilation', for example, an observer moving with respect to a radioactive source finds a longer decay time than found by an observer at rest with respect to it, according to:
Tv = T0 / ( 1   v2 / c2 ) ½
Where Tv is the mean life measurement by an observer at relative speed ‘v', and T0 is the mean life maturement by an observer at rest, and ‘c' is the speed of light.
 This formula has been verified in innumerable experiments. One consequence is that no body can be accelerated from a speed below ‘c' with respect to any observer to one above ‘c', since this would require infinite energy. Einstein educed that the transfer of energy  E by any process entailed the transfer of mass  m where  E =  mc2, hence he concluded that the total energy ‘E' of any system of mass ‘m' would be given by:
E = mc2
 The principle of conservation of mass states that in any system is constant. Although conservation of mass was verified in many experiments, the evidence for this was limited. In contrast the great success of theories assuming the conservation of energy established this principle, and Einstein assumed it as an axiom in his theory of relativity. According to this theory the transfer of energy ‘E' by any process entails the transfer of mass m = E/c2./ hence the conservation of energy ensures the conservation of mass.
 In Einstein's theory inertial and gravitational masses are assumed to be identical and energy is the total energy of a system. Some confusion often arises because of idiosyncratic terminologies in which the words mass and energies are given different meanings. For example, some particle physicists use ‘mass’ to mean the rest-energy of a particle and ‘energy’ to mean ‘energy other than rest-energy'. This leads to alternate statements of the principle, in which terminology is not generally consistent. Whereas, the law of equivalence of mass and energy such that mass ‘m' and energy ‘E' are related by the equation E = mc2, where ‘c' is the speed of light in a vacuum. Thus, a quantity of energy ‘E' has a mass ‘m' and a mass ‘m' has intrinsic energy ‘E'. The kinetic energy of a particle as determined by an observer with relative speed ‘v' is thus ( m   m0 )c2, which tends to the classical value ½mv2 if « C.
 Attempts to express quantum theory in terms consistent with the requirements of relativity were begun by Sommerfeld ( 1915 ), eventually. Dirac ( 1928 ) gave a relativistic formulation of the wave mechanics of conserved particles ( fermions ). This explained the concept of spin and the associated magnetic moment, which had been postulated to account for certain details of spectra. The theory led to results of extremely great importance for the theory of standard or elementary particles. The Klein-Gordon equation is the relativistic wave equation for ‘bosons'. It is applicable to bosons of zero spin, such as the ‘pion'. In which case, for example the Klein-Gordon Lagrangian describes a single spin-0, scalar field:
L = ½[ t t   y y   z z]   ½(2 mc / h)22
In this case:
 L/ ( ) =  μ
leading to the equation:
 L/  = (2 mc/h)22+
and hence the Lagrange equation requires that:
 μ μ + (2 mc / h)2 2 = 0.
Which is the Klein-Gordon equation describing the evolution in space and time of field ‘'? Individual ‘' excitation of the normal modes of represents particles of spin -0, and mass ‘m'.
 A mathematical formulation of the special theory of relativity was given by Minkowski. It is based on the idea that an event is specified by there being a four-dimensional co-ordinates, three of which are spatial co-ordinates and one in a dimensional frame in a time co-ordinates. These continuously of dimensional co-ordinate give to define a four-dimensional space and the motion of a particle can be described by a curve in this space, which is called ‘Minkowski space-time.’ In certain formulations of the theory, use is made of a four-dimensional do-ordinate system in which three dimensions represent the spatial co-ordinates  , y, z and the fourth dimension are ‘ict', where ‘t' is time, ‘c' is the speed of light and ‘I' is   - 1, points in this space are called events. The equivalent to the distance between two points is the interval (  s ) between two events given by Pythagoras law in a space-time as:
  s )2 =  ij  ij    i  j.
Where'
  =  1, y =  2, z =  3 . . . , t =  4 and  11 (   )  33 (   ) = 1?  44 (   ) = 1:
is componded by the Minkowski metric tensor. The distances between two points are variant under the ‘Lorentz transformation', because the measurements of the positions of the points that are simultaneous according to one observer in uniform motion with respect to the first. By contrast, the interval between two events is invariant.
 The equivalents to a vector in the four-dimensional space are consumed by a ‘four vector', in which has three space components and one of time component. For example, the four-vector momentum has a time component proportional to the energy of a particle, the four-vector potential has the space co-ordinates of the magnetic vector potential, while the time co-ordinates corresponds to the electric potential.
 The special theory of relativity is concerned with relative motion between non-accelerated frames of reference. The general theory reals with general relative motion between accelerated frames of reference. In accelerated systems of reference, certain fictitious forces are observed, such as the centrifugal and Coriolis forces found in rotating systems. These are known as fictitious forces because they disappear when the observer transforms to a nonaccelerated system. For example, to an observer in a car rounding a bend at constant velocity, objects in the car appear to suffer a force acting outward. To an observer outside the car, this is simply their tendency to continue moving in a straight line. The inertia of the objects is seen to cause a fictitious force and the observer can distinguish between non-inertial ( accelerated ) and inertial
(Nonaccelerated) frames of reference.
 A further point is that, to the observer in the car, all the objects are given the same acceleration irrespective of their mass. This implies a connection between the fictitious forces arising from accelerated systems and forces due to gravity, where the acceleration produced is independent of the mass. Near the surface of the earth the acceleration of free fall, ‘g', is measured with respect to a nearby point on the surface. Because of the axial rotation the reference point is accelerated to the centre of the circle of its latitude, hence ‘g' is not quite in magnitude or direction to the acceleration toward the centre of the earth given by the theory of ‘gravitation' in 1687 Newton presented his law of universal gravitation, according to which every particle evokes every other particle with the force, ‘F' given by:
F = Gm1 m2 /  2,
Where m1, m2 is the masses of two particles a distance ‘ ' apart, and ‘G' is the gravitational constant, which, according to modern measurements, has a value
6.672 59 x 10-11 m3 kg -1 s -2.
For extended bodies the forces are found by integrations. Newton showed that the external effect of a spherical symmetric body is the same as if the whole mass were concentrated at the centre. Astronomical bodies are roughly spherically symmetrical so can be treated as point particles to a very good approximation. On this assumption Newton showed that his law was consistent with Kepler's Laws. Until recently, all experiments have confirmed the accuracy of the inverse square law and the independence of the law upon the nature of the substances, but in the past few years evidence has been found against both.
 The size of a gravitational field at any point is given by the force exerted on unit mass at that point. The field intensity at a distance ‘ ' from a point mass ‘m' is therefore Gm/ 2, and acts toward ‘m' Gravitational field strength is measured in the newton per kilogram. The gravitational potential ‘V' at that point is the work done in moving a unit mass from infinity to the point against the field, due to a point mass. Importantly, ( a ) Potential at a point distance ‘ ' from the centre of a hollow homogeneous spherical shell of mass ‘m' and outside the shell:
V =   Gm/
The potential is the same as if the mass of the shell is assumed concentrated at the centre, ( b ) At any point inside the spherical shell the potential is equal to its value at the surface:
V =   Gm/r
Where ‘r' is the radius of the shell, thus there is no resultant force acting at any point inside the shell and since no potential difference acts between any two points. ( c ) potential at a point distance ‘ ' from the centre of a homogeneous solid sphere and outside the sphere is the same as that for a shell;
V =   Gm/
(d) At a point inside the sphere, of radius ‘r':
V =   Gm( 3r2    2 ) /2r3
The essential property of gravitation is that it causes a change vin motion, in particular the acceleration of free fall ( g ) in the earth's gravitational field. According to the general theory of relativity, gravitational fields change the geometry of spacetime, causing it to become curved. It is this curvature of spacetime, produced by the presence of matter, that controls the natural motions of matter, that controls the natural motions of bodies. General relativity may thus be considered as a theory of gravitation, differences between it and Newtonian gravitation only appearing when the gravitational fields become very strong, as with ‘black holes' and ‘neutron stars', or when very accurate measurements can be made.
 Accelerated systems and forces due to gravity, where the acceleration produced are independent of the mass, for example, a person in a sealed container could not easily determine whether he was being driven toward the floor by gravity or if the container were in space and being accelerated upward by a rocket. Observations extended in space and time could distinguish between these alternates, but otherwise they are indistinguishable. His leads to the ‘principle of equivalence', from which it follows that the inertial mass is the same as the gravitational mass. A further principle used in the general theory is that the laws of mechanics are the same in inertial and non-inertial frames of reference.
 Still, the equivalence between a gravitational field and the fictitious forces in non-inertial systems can be expressed by using Riemannian space-time, which differs from Minkowski Space-time of the special theory. In special relativity the motion of a particle that is not acted on by any force is represented by a straight line in Minkowski Space-time. In general relativity, using Riemannian Space-time, the motion is represented by a line that is no longer straight, in the Euclidean sense but is the line giving the shortest distance. Such a line is called geodesic. Thus, a space-time is said to be curved. The extent of this curvature is given by the ‘metric tensor' for spacetime, the components of which are solutions to Einstein's ‘field equations'. The fact that gravitational effects occur near masses is introduced by the postulate that the presence of matter produces this curvature of the space-time. This curvature of space-time controls the natural motions of bodies.
 The predictions of general relativity only differ from Newton's theory by small amounts and most tests of the theory have been carried out through observations in astronomy. For example, it explains the shift in the perihelion of Mercury, the bending of light or other electromagnetic radiations in the presence of large bodies, and the Einstein Shift. Very close agreements between the predications of general relativity and their accurately measured values have now been obtained.
 Reiteratively, assumptions upon which Einstein's special theory of relativity (1905) stretches toward its central position are (i) inertial frameworks are equivalent for the description of all physical phenomena, and (ii) the speed of light in empty space is constant for every observer, regardless of the motion of the observer or the light source, although the second assumption may seem plausible in the light of the Michelson-Morley experiment of 1887, which failed to find any difference in the speed of light in the direction of the earth's rotation or when measured perpendicular ti it, it seems likely that Einstein was not influenced by the experiment, and may not even have known the results. As a consequence of the second postulate, no matter how fast she travels, an observer can never overtake a ray of light, and see it as stationary beside her. However, near her speed approaches to that of light, light still retreats at its classical speed. The consequences are that space, time and mass turn relative to the observer. Measurements composed of quantities in an inertial system moving relative to one's own reveal slow clocks, with the effect increasing as the relative speed of the systems approaches the speed of light. Events deemed simultaneously as measured within one such system will not be simultaneous as measured from the other, forthrightly time and space thus lose their separate identity, and become parts of a single space-time. The special theory also has the famous consequence ( E = mc2 ) of the equivalences of energy and mass.
 Einstein's general theory of relativity ( 1916 ) treats of non-inertial systems, i.e., those accelerating relative to each pother. The leading idea is that the laws of motion in an accelerating frame are equivalent to those in a gravitational field. The theory treats gravity not as a Newtonian force acting in an unknown way across distance, but a metrical property of a space-time continuum that is curved in the vicinity of matter. Gravity can be thought of as a field described by the metric tensor at every point. The classic analogy is with a rock sitting on a bed. If a heavy objects where to be thrown across the bed, it is deflected toward the rock not by a mysterious force, but by the deformation of the space, i.e., the depression of the sheet around the object, a called curvilinear trajectory. Interestingly, the general theory lends some credit to a vision of the Newtonian absolute theory of space, in the sense that space itself is regarded as a thing with metrical properties of it's. The search for a unified field theory is the attempt to show that just as gravity is explicable as a consequence of the nature of a space-time, are the other fundamental physical forces: The strong and weak nuclear forces, and the electromagnetic force. The theory of relativity is the most radical challenge to the ‘common sense' view of space and time as fundamentally distinct from each other, with time as an absolute linear flow in which events are fixed in objective relationships.
 After adaptive changes in the brains and bodies of hominids made it possible for modern humans to construct a symbolic universe using complex language system, something as quite dramatic and wholly unprecedented occurred. We began to perceive the world through the lenses of symbolic categories, to construct similarities and differences in terms of categorical priorities, and to organize our lives according to themes and narratives. Living in this new symbolic universe, modern humans had a large compulsion to code and recode experiences, to translate everything into representation, and to seek out the deeper hidden and underlying logic that eliminates inconsistencies and ambiguities.
 The mega-narrative or frame tale served to legitimate and rationalize the categorical oppositions and terms of relations between the myriad number of constructs in the symbolic universe of modern humans were religion. The use of religious thought for these purposes is quite apparent in the artifacts found in the fossil remains of people living in France and Spain forty thousand years ago. And these artifacts provided the first concrete evidence that a fully developed language system had given birth to an intricate and complex social order.
 Both religious and scientific thought seeks to frame or construct reality in terms of origins, primary oppositions, and underlying causes, and this partially explains why fundamental assumptions in the Western metaphysical tradition were eventually incorporated into a view of reality that would later be called scientific. The history of scientific thought reveals that the dialogue between assumptions about the character of spiritual reality in ordinary language and the character of physical reality in mathematical language was intimate and ongoing from the early Greek philosophers to the first scientific revolution in the seventeenth century. But this dialogue did not conclude, as many have argued, with the emergence of positivism in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. It was perpetuated in a disguise form in the hidden ontology of classical epistemology  -the central issue in the Bohr-Einstein debate.
 The assumption that a one-to-one correspondence exists between every element of physical reality and physical theory may serve to bridge the gap between mind and world for those who use physical theories. But it also suggests that the Cartesian division be real and insurmountable in constructions of physical reality based on ordinary language. This explains in no small part why the radical separation between mind and world sanctioned by classical physics and formalized by Descartes ( 1596-1650 ) remains, as philosophical postmodernism attests, one of the most pervasive features of Western intellectual life.
 Nietzsche, in an effort to subvert the epistemological authority of scientific knowledge, sought of a legitimate division between mind and world much starker than that originally envisioned by Descartes. What is not widely known, however, is that Nietzsche and other seminal figures in the history of philosophical postmodernism were very much aware of an epistemological crisis in scientific thought than arose much earlier, that occasioned by wave-particle dualism in quantum physics. This crisis resulted from attempts during the last three decades of the nineteenth century to develop a logically self-consistent definition of number and arithmetic that would serve to reinforce the classical view of correspondence between mathematical theory and physical reality. As it turned out, these efforts resulted in paradoxes of recursion and self-reference that threatened to undermine both the efficacy of this correspondence and the privileged character of scientific knowledge.
 Nietzsche appealed to this crisis in an effort to reinforce his assumption that, without ontology, all knowledge ( including scientific knowledge ) was grounded only in human consciousness. As the crisis continued, a philosopher trained in higher mathematics and physics, Edmund Husserl 1859-1938, attempted to preserve the classical view of correspondences between mathematical theory and physical reality by deriving the foundation of logic and number from consciousness in ways that would preserve self-consistency and rigour. This afforded effort to ground mathematical physics in human consciousness, or in human subjective reality, was no trivial matter, representing a direct link between these early challenges and the efficacy of classical epistemology and the tradition in philosophical thought that culminated in philosophical postmodernism.
 Since Husserl's epistemology, like that of Descartes and Nietzsche, was grounded in human subjectivity, a better understanding of his attempt to preserve the classical view of correspondence not only reveals more about the legacy of Cartesian dualism. It also suggests that the hidden and underlying ontology of classical epistemology was more responsible for the deep division and conflict between the two cultures of humanists-social scientists and scientists-engineers than was previously thought. The central question in this late-nineteenth-century debate over the status of the mathematical description of nature was the following: Is the foundation of number and logic grounded in classical epistemology, or must we assume, in the absence of any ontology, that the rules of number and logic are grounded only in human consciousness? In order to frame this question in the proper context, we should first examine in more detail the intimate and ongoing dialogue between physics and metaphysics in Western thought.
 The history of science reveals that scientific knowledge and method did not emerge as full-blown from the minds of the ancient Greek any more than language and culture emerged fully formed in the minds of ‘Homo sapient's sapient. ‘ Scientific knowledge is an extension of ordinary language into grater levels of abstraction and precision through reliance upon geometric and numerical relationships. We speculate that the seeds of the scientific imagination were planted in ancient Greece, as opposed to Chinese or Babylonian culture, partly because the social, political and an economic climate in Greece was more open to the pursuit of knowledge with marginal cultural utility. Another important factor was that the special character of Homeric religion allowed the Greeks to invent a conceptual framework that would prove useful in future scientific investigation. But it was only after this inheritance from Greek philosophy was wedded to some essential features of Judeo-Christian beliefs about the origin of the cosmos that the paradigm for classical physics emerged.
 The philosophical debate that led to conclusions useful to the architects of classical physics can be briefly summarized, such when Thale's fellow Milesian Anaximander claimed that the first substance, although indeterminate, manifested itself in a conflict of oppositions between hot and cold, moist and dry. The idea of nature as a self-regulating balance of forces was subsequently elaborated upon by Heraclitus ( d. after 480 BC ), who asserted that the fundamental substance is strife between opposites, which is itself the unity of the whole. It is, said Heraclitus, the tension between opposites that keeps the whole from simply ‘passing away.’
 Parmenides of Elea ( b. c. 515 BC ) argued in turn that the unifying substance is unique and static being. This led to a conclusion about the relationship between ordinary language and external reality that was later incorporated into the view of the relationship between mathematical language and physical reality. Since thinking or naming involves the presence of something, said Parmenides, thought and language must be dependent upon the existence of objects outside the human intellect. Presuming a one-to-one correspondence between word and idea and actual existing things, Parmenides concluded that our ability to think or speak of a thing at various times implies that it exists at all times. Hence the indivisible One does not change, and all perceived change is an illusion.
 These assumptions emerged in roughly the form in which they would be used by the creators of classical physics in the thought of the atomists. Leucippus :  l. 450-420 BC and Democritus ( c. 460-c. 370 BC ). They reconciled the two dominant and seemingly antithetical concepts of the fundamental character of being-Becoming ( Heraclitus ) and unchanging Being ( Parmenides )-in a remarkable simple and direct way. Being, they said, is present in the invariable substance of the atoms that, through blending and separation, make up the thing of changing or becoming worlds.
 The last remaining feature of what would become the paradigm for the first scientific revolution in the seventeenth century is attributed to Pythagoras ( b c. 570 BC ). Like Parmenides, Pythagoras also held that the perceived world is illusory and that there is an exact correspondence between ideas and aspects of external reality. Pythagoras, however, had a different conception of the character of the idea that showed this correspondence. The truth about the fundamental character of the unified and unifying substance, which could be uncovered through reason and contemplation, is, he claimed, mathematical in form.
 Pythagoras established and was the cental figure in a school of philosophy, religion and mathematics; He was apparently viewed by his followers as semi-divine. For his followers the regular solids ( symmetrical three-dimensional forms in which all sides are the same regular polygons ) and whole numbers became revered essences of sacred ideas. In contrast with ordinary language, the language of mathematics and geometric forms seemed closed, precise and pure. Providing one understood the axioms and notations, and the meaning conveyed was invariant from one mind to another. The Pythagoreans felt that the language empowered the mind to leap beyond the confusion of sense experience into the realm of immutable and eternal essences. This mystical insight made Pythagoras the figure from antiquity most revered by the creators of classical physics, and it continues to have great appeal for contemporary physicists as they struggle with the epistemological implications of the quantum mechanical description of nature.
 Yet, least of mention, progress was made in mathematics, and to a lesser extent in physics, from the time of classical Greek philosophy to the seventeenth century in Europe. In Baghdad, for example, from about A.D. 750 to A.D. 1000, substantial advancement was made in medicine and chemistry, and the relics of Greek science were translated into Arabic, digested, and preserved. Eventually these relics reentered Europe via the Arabic kingdom of Spain and Sicily, and the work of figures like Aristotle universities of France, Italy, and England during the Middle Ages.
 For much of this period the Church provided the institutions, like the reaching orders, needed for the rehabilitation of philosophy. But the social, political and an intellectual climate in Europe was not ripe for a revolution in scientific thought until the seventeenth century. Until later in time, lest as far into the nineteenth century, the works of the new class of intellectuals we called scientists, whom of which were more avocations than vocation, and the word scientist do not appear in English until around 1840.
 Copernicus (1473-1543 ) would have been described by his contemporaries as an administrator, a diplomat, an avid student of economics and classical literature, and most notable, a highly honoured and placed church dignitaries. Although we named a revolution after him, his devoutly conservative man did not set out to create one. The placement of the Sun at the centre of the universe, which seemed right and necessary to Copernicus, was not a result of making careful astronomical observations. In fact, he made very few observations in the course of developing his theory, and then only to ascertain if his prior conclusions seemed correct. The Copernican system was also not any more useful in making astrological calculations than the accepted model and was, in some ways, much more difficult to implement. What, then, was his motivation for creating the model and his reasons for presuming that the model was correct?
 Copernicus felt that the placement of the Sun at the centre of the universe made sense because he viewed the Sun as the symbol of the presence of a supremely intelligent and intelligible God in a man-centred world. He was apparently led to this conclusion in part because the Pythagoreans believed that fire exists at the centre of the cosmos, and Copernicus identified this fire with the fireball of the Sun. the only support that Copernicus could offer for the greater efficacy of his model was that it represented a simpler and more mathematical harmonious model of the sort that the Creator would obviously prefer. The language used by Copernicus in ‘The Revolution of Heavenly Orbs,’ illustrates the religious dimension of his scientific thought: ‘In the midst of all the sun reposes, unmoving. Who, indeed, in this most beautiful temple would place the light-giver in any other part than from where it can illumine all other parts?’
 The belief that the mind of God as Divine Architect permeates the working of nature was the guiding principle of the scientific thought of Johannes Kepler ( or Keppler, 1571-1630 ). For this reason, most modern physicists would probably feel some discomfort in reading Kepler's original manuscripts. Physics and metaphysics, astronomy and astrology, geometry and theology commingle with an intensity that might offend those who practice science in the modern sense of that word. Physical laws, wrote Kepler, ‘lie within the power of understanding of the human mind; God wanted us to perceive them when he created us of His own image, in order . . . that we may take part in His own thoughts. Our knowledge of numbers and quantities is the same as that of God's, at least insofar as we can understand something of it in this mortal life.’
 Believing, like Newton after him, in the literal truth of the words of the Bible, Kepler concluded that the word of God is also transcribed in the immediacy of observable nature. Kepler's discovery that the motions of the planets around the Sun were elliptical, as opposed perfecting circles, may have made the universe seem a less perfect creation of God on ordinary language. For Kepler, however, the new model placed the Sun, which he also viewed as the emblem of a divine agency, more at the centre of mathematically harmonious universes than the Copernican system allowed. Communing with the perfect mind of God requires as Kepler put it ‘knowledge of numbers and quantity.’
 Since Galileo did not use, or even refer to, the planetary laws of Kepler when those laws would have made his defence of the heliocentric universe more credible, his attachment to the god-like circle was probably a more deeply rooted aesthetic and religious ideal. But it was Galileo, even more than Newton, who was responsible for formulating the scientific idealism that quantum mechanics now force us to abandon. In ‘Dialogue Concerning the Two Great Systems of the World,’ Galileo said about the following about the followers of Pythagoras: ‘I know perfectly well that the Pythagoreans had the highest esteem for the science of number and that Plato himself admired the human intellect and believed that it participates in divinity solely because it is able to understand the nature of numbers. And I myself am inclined to make the same judgement.’
 This article of faith-mathematical and geometrical ideas mirror precisely the essences of physical reality was the basis for the first scientific law of this new science, a constant describing the acceleration of bodies in free fall, could not be confirmed by experiment. The experiments conducted by Galileo in which balls of different sizes and weights were rolled simultaneously down an inclined plane did not, as he frankly admitted, their precise results. And since a vacuum pumps had not yet been invented, there was simply no way that Galileo could subject his law to rigorous experimental proof in the seventeenth century. Galileo believed in the absolute validity of this law in the absence of experimental proof because he also believed that movement could be subjected absolutely to the law of number. What Galileo asserted, as the French historian of science Alexander Koyré put it, was ‘that the real are in its essence, geometrical and, consequently, subject to rigorous determination and measurement.’
 The popular image of Isaac Newton ( 1642-1727 ) is that of a supremely rational and dispassionate empirical thinker. Newton, like Einstein, had the ability to concentrate unswervingly on complex theoretical problems until they yielded a solution. But what most consumed his restless intellect were not the laws of physics. In addition to believing, like Galileo that the essences of physical reality could be read in the language of mathematics, Newton also believed, with perhaps even greater intensity than Kepler, in the literal truths of the Bible.
 For Newton the mathematical languages of physics and the language of biblical literature were equally valid sources of communion with the eternal writings in the extant documents alone consist of more than a million words in his own hand, and some of his speculations seem quite bizarre by contemporary standards. The Earth, said Newton, will still be inhabited after the day of judgement, and heaven, or the New Jerusalem, must be large enough to accommodate both the quick and the dead. Newton then put his mathematical genius to work and determined the dimensions required to house the population, his rather precise estimate was ‘the cube root of 12,000 furlongs.’
 The pint is, that during the first scientific revolution the marriage between mathematical idea and physical reality, or between mind and nature via mathematical theory, was viewed as a sacred union. In our more secular age, the correspondence takes on the appearance of an unexamined article of faith or, to borrow a phrase from William James ( 1842-1910 ), ‘an altar to an unknown god.’ Heinrich Hertz, the famous nineteenth-century German physicist, nicely described what there is about the practice of physics that tends to inculcate this belief: ‘One cannot escape the feeling that these mathematical formulae have an independent existence and intelligence of their own that they are wiser than we, wiser than their discoveries. That we get more out of them than was originally put into them.’
 While Hertz made this statement without having to contend with the implications of quantum mechanics, the feeling, the described remains the most enticing and exciting aspects of physics. That elegant mathematical formulae provide a framework for understanding the origins and transformations of a cosmos of enormous age and dimensions are a staggering discovery for bidding physicists. Professors of physics do not, of course, tell their students that the study of physical laws in an act of communion with thee perfect mind of God or that these laws have an independent existence outside the minds that discover them. The business of becoming a physicist typically begins, however, with the study of classical or Newtonian dynamics, and this training provides considerable covert reinforcement of the feeling that Hertz described.
 Perhaps, the best way to examine the legacy of the dialogue between science and religion in the debate over the implications of quantum non-locality is to examine the source of Einstein's objections tp quantum epistemology in more personal terms. Einstein apparently lost faith in the God portrayed in biblical literature in early adolescence. But, as appropriated, . . . the ‘Autobiographical Notes’ give to suggest that there were aspects that carry over into his understanding of the foundation for scientific knowledge, . . . ‘Thus I came  -despite the fact that I was the son of an entirely irreligious [ Jewish ] Breeden heritage, which is deeply held of its religiosity, which, however, found an abrupt end at the age of 12. Though the reading of popular scientific books I soon reached the conviction that much in the stories of the Bible could not be true. The consequence waw a positively frantic [ orgy ] of freethinking coupled with the impression that youth is intentionally being deceived by the stat through lies that it was a crushing impression. Suspicion against every kind of authority grew out of this experience. . . . It was clear to me that the religious paradise of youth, which was thus lost, was a first attempt ti free myself from the chains of the ‘merely personal'. . . . The mental grasp of this extra-personal world within the frame of the given possibilities swam as highest aim half consciously and half unconsciously before the mind's eye.’
 What is more, was, suggested Einstein, belief in the word of God as it is revealed in biblical literature that allowed him to dwell in a ‘religious paradise of youth' and to shield himself from the harsh realities of social and political life. In an effort to recover that inner sense of security that was lost after exposure to scientific knowledge, or to become free once again of the ‘merely personal', he committed himself to understanding the ‘extra-personal world within the frame of given possibilities', or as seems obvious, to the study of physics. Although the existence of God as described in the Bible may have been in doubt, the qualities of mind that the architects of classical physics associated with this God were not. This is clear in the comments from which Einstein uses of mathematics, . . . ‘Nature is the realization of the simplest conceivable mathematical ideas. I am convinced that we can discover, by means of purely mathematical construction, those concepts and those lawful connections between them that furnish the key to the understanding of natural phenomena. Experience remains, of course, the sole criteria of physical utility of a mathematical construction. But the creative principle resides in mathematics. In a certain sense, therefore, I hold it true that pure thought can grasp reality, as the ancients dreamed.’
 This article of faith, first articulated by Kepler, that ‘nature is the realization of the simplest conceivable mathematical ideas' allowed for Einstein to posit the first major law of modern physics much as it allows Galileo to posit the first major law of classical physics. During which time, when the special and then the general theories of relativity had not been confirmed by experiment and many established physicists viewed them as at least minor heresies, Einstein remained entirely confident of their predictions. Ilse Rosenthal-Schneider, who visited Einstein shortly after Eddington's eclipse expedition confirmed a prediction of the general theory ( 1919 ), described Einstein's response to this news: When I was giving expression to my joy that the results coincided with his calculations, he said quite unmoved, ‘But I knew the theory was correct,’ and when I asked, what if there had been no confirmation of his prediction, he countered: ‘Then I would have been sorry for the dear Lord  -the theory is correct.’
 Einstein was not given to making sarcastic or sardonic comments, particularly on matters of religion. These unguarded responses testify to his profound conviction that the language of mathematics allows the human mind access to immaterial and immutable truths existing outside of the mind that conceived them. Although Einstein's belief was far more secular than Galileo's, it retained the same essential ingredients.
 What continued in the twenty-three-year-long debate between Einstein and Bohr, least of mention? The primary article drawing upon its faith that contends with those opposing to the merits or limits of a physical theory, at the heart of this debate was the fundamental question, ‘What is the relationship between the mathematical forms in the human mind called physical theory and physical reality?’ Einstein did not believe in a God who spoke in tongues of flame from the mountaintop in ordinary language, and he could not sustain belief in the anthropomorphic God of the West. There is also no suggestion that he embraced ontological monism, or the conception of Being featured in Eastern religious systems, like Taoism, Hinduism, and Buddhism. The closest that Einstein apparently came to affirming the existence of the ‘extra-personal' in the universe was a ‘cosmic religious feeling', which he closely associated with the classical view of scientific epistemology.
 The doctrine that Einstein fought to preserve seemed the natural inheritance of physics until the advent of quantum mechanics. Although the mind that constructs reality might be evolving fictions that are not necessarily true or necessary in social and political life, there was, Einstein felt, a way of knowing, purged of deceptions and lies. He was convinced that knowledge of physical reality in physical theory mirrors the preexistent and immutable realm of physical laws. And as Einstein consistently made clear, this knowledge mitigates loneliness and inculcates a sense of order and reason in a cosmos that might appear otherwise bereft of meaning and purpose.
 What most disturbed Einstein about quantum mechanics was the fact that this physical theory might not, in experiment or even in principle, mirrors precisely the structure of physical reality. There is, for all the reasons we seem attested of, in that an inherent uncertainty in measurement made, . . . a quantum mechanical process reflects of a pursuit that quantum theory in itself and its contributive dynamic functionalities that there lay the attribution of a completeness of a quantum mechanical theory. Einstein's fearing that it would force us to recognize that this inherent uncertainty applied to all of physics, and, therefore, the ontological bridge between mathematical theory and physical reality -does not exist. And this would mean, as Bohr was among the first to realize, that we must profoundly revive the epistemological foundations of modern science.
 The world view of classical physics allowed the physicist to assume that communion with the essences of physical reality via mathematical laws and associated theories was possible, but it made no other provisions for the knowing mind. In our new situation, the status of the knowing mind seems quite different. Modern physics distributively contributed its view toward the universe as an unbroken, undissectable and undivided dynamic whole. ‘There can hardly be a sharper contrast,’ said Melic Capek, ‘than that between the everlasting atoms of classical physics and the vanishing ‘particles' of modern physics as Stapp put it: ‘Each atom turns out to be nothing but the potentialities in the behaviour pattern of others. What we find, therefore, are not elementary space-time realities, but rather a web of relationships in which no part can stand alone, every part derives its meaning and existence only from its place within the whole’'
 The characteristics of particles and quanta are not isolatable, given particle-wave dualism and the incessant exchange of quanta within matter-energy fields. Matter cannot be dissected from the omnipresent sea of energy, nor can we in theory or in fact observe matter from the outside. As Heisenberg put it decades ago, ‘the cosmos appears to be a complicated tissue of events, in which connection of different kinds alternate or overlay or combine and thereby determine the texture of the whole. This means that a pure reductionist approach to understanding physical reality, which was the goal of classical physics, is no longer appropriate.
 While the formalism of quantum physics predicts that correlations between particles over space-like separated regions are possible, it can say nothing about what this strange new relationship between parts ( quanta ) and whole ( cosmos ) was by means an outside formalism. This does not, however, prevent us from considering the implications in philosophical terms, as the philosopher of science Errol Harris noted in thinking about the special character of wholeness in modern physics, a unity without internal content is a blank or empty set and is not recognizable as a whole. A collection of merely externally related parts does not constitute a whole in that the parts will not be ‘mutually adaptive and complementary to one and another.’
 Wholeness requires a complementary relationship between unity and differences and is governed by a principle of organization determining the interrelationship between parts. This organizing principle must be universal to a genuine whole and implicit in all parts that constitute the whole, even though the whole is exemplified only in its parts. This principle of order, Harris continued, ‘is nothing really in and of itself. It is the way parts are organized and not another constituent addition to those that constitute the totality.’
 In a genuine whole, the relationship between the constituent parts must be ‘internal or immanent' in the parts, as opposed to a mere spurious whole in which parts appear to disclose wholeness due to relationships that are external to the parts. The collection of parts that would allegedly constitute the whole in classical physics is an example of a spurious whole. Parts constitute a genuine whole when the universal principle of order is inside the parts and thereby adjusts each to all that they interlock and become mutually complementary. This not only describes the character of the whole revealed in both relativity theory and quantum mechanics. It is also consistent with the manner in which we have begun to understand the relation between parts and whole in modern biology.
 Modern physics also reveals, claims Harris, a complementary relationship between the differences between parts that constituted contentual representations that the universal ordering principle that is immanent in each of the parts. While the whole cannot be finally disclosed in the analysis of the parts, the study of the differences between parts provides insights into the dynamic structure of the whole present in each of the parts. The part can never, nonetheless, be finally isolated from the web of relationships that disclose the interconnections with the whole, and any attempt to do so results in ambiguity.
 Much of the ambiguity in attempted to explain the character of wholes in both physics and biology derives from the assumption that order exists between or outside parts. But order in complementary relationships between differences and sameness in any physical event is never external to that event  -the connections are immanent in the event. From this perspective, the addition of non-locality to this picture of the dynamic whole is not surprising. The relationship between part, as quantum event apparent in observation or measurement, and the undissectable whole, revealed but not described by the instantaneous, and the undissectable whole, revealed but described by the instantaneous correlations between measurements in space-like separated regions, is another extension of the part-whole complementarity to modern physics.
 If the universe is a seamlessly interactive system that evolves to a higher level of complexity, and if the lawful regularities of this universe are emergent properties of this system, we can assume that the cosmos is a singular point of significance as a whole that evinces of the ‘progressive principal order' of complementary relations its parts. Given that this whole exists in some sense within all parts ( quanta ), one can then argue that it operates in self-reflective fashion and is the ground for all emergent complexities. Since human consciousness evinces self-reflective awareness in the human brain and since this brain, like all physical phenomena can be viewed as an emergent property of the whole, it is reasonable to conclude, in philosophical terms at least, that the universe is conscious.
 But since the actual character of this seamless whole cannot be represented or reduced to its parts, it lies, quite literally beyond all human representations or descriptions. If one chooses to believe that the universe be a self-reflective and self-organizing whole, this lends no support whatsoever to conceptions of design, meaning, purpose, intent, or plan associated with any mytho-religious or cultural heritage. However, If one does not accept this view of the universe, there is nothing in the scientific descriptions of nature that can be used to refute this position. On the other hand, it is no longer possible to argue that a profound sense of unity with the whole, which has long been understood as the foundation of religious experience, which can be dismissed, undermined or invalidated with appeals to scientific knowledge.
 While we have consistently tried to distinguish between scientific knowledge and philosophical speculation based on this knowledge  -there is no empirically valid causal linkage between the former and the latter. Those who wish to dismiss the speculative assumptions as its basis to be drawn the obvious freedom of which id firmly grounded in scientific theory and experiments there is, however, in the scientific description of nature, the belief in radical Cartesian division between mind and world sanctioned by classical physics. Seemingly clear, that this separation between mind and world was a macro-level illusion fostered by limited awarenesses of the actual character of physical reality and by mathematical idealization that were extended beyond the realm of their applicability.
 Thus, the grounds for objecting to quantum theory, the lack of a one-to-one correspondence between every element of the physical theory and the physical reality it describes, may seem justifiable and reasonable in strictly scientific terms. After all, the completeness of all previous physical theories was measured against the criterion with enormous success. Since it was this success that gave physics the reputation of being able to disclose physical reality with magnificent exactitude, perhaps a more comprehensive quantum theory will emerge to insist on these requirements.
 All indications are, however, that no future theory can circumvent quantum indeterminancy, and the success of quantum theory in co-ordinating our experience with nature is eloquent testimony to this conclusion. As Bohr realized, the fact that we live in a quantum universe in which the quantum of action is a given or an unavoidable reality requires a very different criterion for determining the completeness or physical theory. The new measure for a complete physical theory is that it unambiguously confirms our ability to co-ordinate more experience with physical reality.
 If a theory does so and continues to do so, which is certainly the case with quantum physics, then the theory must be deemed complete. Quantum physics not only works exceedingly well, it is, in these terms, the most accurate physical theory that has ever existed. When we consider that this physics allows us to predict and measure quantities like the magnetic moment of electrons to the fifteenth decimal place, we realize that accuracy per se is not the real issue. The real issue, as Bohr rightly intuited, is that this complete physical theory effectively undermines the privileged relationship in classical physics between ‘theory' and ‘physical reality'.
 In quantum physics, one calculates the probability of an event that can happen in alternative ways by adding the wave function, and then taking the square of the amplitude. In the two-slit experiment, for example, the electron is described by one wave function if it goes through one slit and by another wave function it goes through the other slit. In order to compute the probability of where the electron is going to end on the screen, we add the two wave functions, compute the absolute value of their sum, and square it. Although the recipe in classical probability theory seems similar, it is quite different. In classical physics, we would simply add the probabilities of the two alternate ways and let it go at that. The classical procedure does not work here, because we are not dealing with classical atoms. In quantum physics additional terms arise when the wave functions are added, and the probability is computed in a process known as the ‘superposition principle'.
 The superposition principle can be illustrated with an analogy from simple mathematics. Add two numbers and then take the square of their sum. As opposed to just adding the squares of the two numbers. Obviously, ( 2 + 3 )2 is not equal to 22 + 32. The former is 25, and the latter are 13. In the language of quantum probability theory
|  2 | 2   |  1 | 2 + |  2 | 2
Where  1 and  2 are the individual wave functions. On the left-hand side, the superposition principle results in extra terms that cannot be found on the right-hand side. The left-hand side of the above relations is the way a quantum physicist would compute probabilities, and the right0-hand side is the classical analogue. In quantum theory, the right-hand side is realized when we know, for example, which slit through which the electron went. Heisenberg was among the first to compute what would happen in an instance like this. The extra superposition terms contained in the left-hand side of the above relations would not be there, and the peculiar wave-like interference pattern would disappear. The observed pattern on the final screen would, therefore, be what one would expect if electrons were behaving like a bullet, and the final probability would be the sum of the individual probabilities. But when we know which slit the electron went through, this interaction with the system causes the interference pattern to disappear.
 In order to give a full account of quantum recipes for computing probabilities, one has to examine what would happen in events that are compound. Compound events are ‘events that can be broken down into a series of steps, or events that consists of a number of things happening independently.’ The recipe here calls for multiplying the individual wave functions, and then following the usual quantum recipe of taking the square of the amplitude.
 The quantum recipe is |  1 •  2 | 2, and, in this case, it would be the same if we multiplied the individual probabilities, as one would in classical theory. Thus, the recipes of computing results in quantum theory and classical physics can be totally different. The quantum superposition effects are completely non-classical, and there is no mathematical justification per se why the quantum recipes work. What justifies the use of quantum probability theory is the coming thing that justifies the use of quantum physics  -it has allowed us in countless experiments to extend our ability to co-ordinate experience with the expansive nature of unity.
 A departure from the classical mechanics of Newton involving the principle that certain physical quantities can only assume discrete values. In quantum theory, introduced by Planck (1900), certain conditions are imposed on these quantities to restrict their value; the quantities are then said to be ‘quantized'.
 Up to1900, physics was based on Newtonian mechanics. Large-scale systems are usually adequately described, however, several problems could not be solved, in particular, the explanation of the curves of energy against wavelengths for ‘black-body radiation', with their characteristic maximum, as these attemptive efforts were afforded to endeavour upon the base-cases, on which the idea that the enclosure producing the radiation contained a number of ‘standing waves' and that the energy of an oscillator if ‘kT', where ‘k' in the ‘Boltzmann Constant’ and ‘T' the thermodynamic temperature. It is a consequence of classical theory that the energy does not depend on the frequency of the oscillator. This inability to explain the phenomenons has been called the ‘ultraviolet catastrophe'.
 Planck tackled the problem by discarding the idea that an oscillator can attain or decrease energy continuously, suggesting that it could only change by some discrete amount, which he called a ‘quantum.’ This unit of energy is given by ‘hv' where ‘v' is the frequency and ‘h' is the ‘Planck Constant,’ ‘h' has dimensions of energy ‘x' times of action, and was called the ‘quantum of action.' According to Planck an oscillator could only change its energy by an integral number of quanta, i.e., by hv, 2hv, 3hv, etc. This meant that the radiation in an enclosure has certain discrete energies and by considering the statistical distribution of oscillators with respect to their energies, he was able to derive the ‘Planck Radiation Formulas.’ The formulae contrived by Planck, to express the distribution of dynamic energy in the normal spectrum of ‘black-body' radiation. It is usual form is:
8 chd /  5 ( exp[ch / k T]   1,
Which represents the amount of energy per unit volume in the range of wavelengths between   and   + d ? ‘c' = the speed of light and ‘h' = the Planck constant, as ‘k' = the Boltzmann constant with ‘T' = thermodynamic temperatures.
 The idea of quanta of energy was applied to other problems in physics, when in 1905 Einstein explained features of the ‘Photoelectric Effect’ by assuming that light was absorbed in quanta ( photons ). A further advance was made by Bohr ( 1913 ) in his theory of atomic spectra, in which he assumed that the atom can only exist in certain energy states and that light is emitted or absorbed as a result of a change from one state to another. He used the idea that the angular momentum of an orbiting electron could only assume discrete values, ie. , Was quantized? A refinement of Bohr's theory was introduced by Sommerfeld in an attempt to account for fine structure in spectra. Other successes of quantum theory were its explanations of the ‘Compton Effect’ and ‘Stark Effect.’ Later developments involved the formulation of a new system of mechanics known as ‘Quantum Mechanics.’
 What is more, in furthering to Compton's scattering was to an interaction between a photon of electromagnetic radiation and a free electron, or other charged particles, in which some of the energy of the photon is transferred to the particle. As a result, the wavelength of the photon is increased by amount   . Where:
   = ( 2h / m0 c ) sin 2 ½.
This is the Compton equation, ‘h' is the Planck constant, m0 the rest mass of the particle, ‘c' the speed of light, and the photon angle between the directions of the incident and scattered photons. The quantity ‘h/m0c' and  is known as the ‘Compton Wavelength,’ symbol  C, which for an electron is equal to 0.002 43 nm.
 The outer electrons in all elements and the inner ones in those of low atomic number have ‘binding energies' negligible compared with the quantum energies of all except very soft X- and gamma rays. Thus most electrons in matter are effectively free and at rest and so cause Compton scattering. In the range of quantum energies 105 to 107 electro volts, this effect is commonly the most important process of attenuation of radiation. The scattering electron is ejected from the atom with large kinetic energy and the ionization that it causes plays an important part in the operation of detectors of radiation.
 In the ‘Inverse Compton Effect’ there is a gain in energy by low-energy photons as a result of being scattered by free electrons of much higher energy. As a consequence, the electrons lose energy. Whereas, the wavelength of light emitted by atoms is altered by the application of a strong transverse electric field to the source, the spectrum lines being split up into a number of sharply defined components. The displacements are symmetrical about the position of the undisplaced lines, and are prepositional of the undisplaced line, and are propositional to the field strength up to about 100 000 volts per cm ( The Stark Effect).
 Adjoined along-side with quantum mechanics, is an unstretching constitution taken advantage of forwarded mathematical physical theories  -growing from Planck's ‘Quantum Theory’ and deals with the mechanics of atomic and related systems in terms of quantities that can be measured. The subject development in several mathematical forms, including ‘Wave Mechanics’ ( Schrödinger ) and ‘Matrix Mechanics’ ( Born and Heisenberg ), all of which are equivalent.
 In quantum mechanics, it is often found that the properties of a physical system, such as its angular moment and energy, can only take discrete values. Where this occurs the property is said to be ‘quantized' and its various possible values are labelled by a set of numbers called quantum numbers. For example, according to Bohr's theory of the atom, an electron moving in a circular orbit could occupy any orbit at any distance from the nucleus but only an orbit for which its angular momentum ( mvr ) was equal to nh/2 , where ‘n' is an integer ( 0, 1, 2, 3, etc. ) and ‘h' is the Planck's constant. Thus the property of angular momentum is quantized and ‘n' is a quantum number that gives its possible values. The Bohr theory has now been superseded by a more sophisticated theory in which the idea of orbits is replaced by regions in which the electron may move, characterized by quantum numbers ‘n', ‘I', and ‘m'.
 Properties of [Standard] elementary particles are also described by quantum numbers. For example, an electron has the property known a ‘spin', and can exist in two possible energy states depending on whether this spin set parallel or antiparallel to a certain direction. The two states are conveniently characterized by quantum numbers + ½ and   ½. Similarly properties such as charge, isospin, strangeness, parity and hyper-charge are characterized by quantum numbers. In interactions between particles, a particular quantum number may be conserved, I, e., the sum of the quantum numbers of the particles before and after the interaction remains the same. It is the type of interaction  -strong, electromagnetic, weak that determines whether the quantum number is conserved.
 The energy associated with a quantum state of an atom or other system that is fixed, or determined, by given set quantum numbers. It is one of the various quantum states that can be assumed by an atom under defined conditions. The term is often used to mean the state itself, which is incorrect accorded to: (i) the energy of a given state may be changed by externally applied fields (ii) there may be a number of states of equal energy in the system.
 The electrons in an atom can occupy any of an infinite number of bound states with discrete energies. For an isolated atom the energy for a given state is exactly determinate except for the effected of the ‘uncertainty principle'. The ground state with lowest energy has an infinite lifetime hence, the energy, in principle is exactly determinate, the energies of these states are most accurately measured by finding the wavelength of the radiation emitted or absorbed in transitions between them, i.e., from their line spectra. Theories of the atom have been developed to predict these energies by calculation. Due to de Broglie and extended by Schrödinger, Dirac and many others, it ( wave mechanics ) originated in the suggestion that light consists of corpuscles as well as of waves and the consequent suggestion that all [ standard ] elementary particles are associated with waves. Wave mechanics are based on the Schrödinger wave equation describing the wave properties of matter. It relates the energy of a system to wave function, in general, it is found that a system, such as an atom or molecule can only have certain allowed wave functions ( eigenfunction ) and certain allowed energies
(Eigenvalues), in wave mechanics the quantum conditions arise in a natural way from the basic postulates as solutions of the wave equation. The energies of unbound states of positive energy form a continuum. This gives rise to the continuum background to an atomic spectrum as electrons are captured from unbound states. The energy of an atom state can be changed by the ‘Stark Effect’ or the ‘Zeeman Effect.’
 The vibrational energies of the molecule also have discrete values, for example, in a diatomic molecule the atom oscillates in the line joining them. There is an equilibrium distance at which the force is zero. The atoms repulse when closer and attract when further apart. The restraining force is nearly prepositional to the displacement hence, the oscillations are simple harmonic. Solution of the Schrödinger wave equation gives the energies of a harmonic oscillation as:
En = ( n + ½ ) h .
Where ‘h' is the Planck constant,   is the frequency, and ‘n' is the vibrational quantum number, which can be zero or any positive integer. The lowest possible vibrational energy of an oscillator is not zero but ½ h . This is the cause of zero-point energy. The potential energy of interaction of atoms is described more exactly by the ‘Morse Equation,’ which shows that the oscillations are slightly anharmonic. The vibrations of molecules are investigated by the study of ‘band spectra'.
 The rotational energy of a molecule is quantized also, according to the Schrödinger equation, a body with the moment of inertial I about the axis of rotation have energies given by:
EJ = h2J ( J + 1 ) / 8  2I.
Where J is the rotational quantum number, which can be zero or a positive integer. Rotational energies originate from band spectra.
 The energies of the state of the nucleus are determined from the gamma ray spectrum and from various nuclear reactions. Theory has been less successful in predicting these energies than those of electrons because the interactions of nucleons are very complicated. The energies are very little affected by external influence but the ‘Mössbauer Effect’ has permitted the observations of some minute changes.
 In quantum theory, introduced by Max Planck 1858-1947 in 1900, was the first serious scientific departure from Newtonian mechanics. It involved supposing that certain physical quantities can only assume discrete values. In the following two decades it was applied successfully by Einstein and the Danish physicist Neils Bohr (1885-1962). It was superseded by quantum mechanics in the tears following 1924, when the French physicist Louis de Broglie (1892-1987) introduced the idea that a particle may also be regarded as a wave. The Schrödinger wave equation relates the energy of a system to a wave function, the energy of a system to a wave function, the square of the amplitude of the wave is proportional to the probability of a particle being found in a specific position. The wave function expresses the lack of possibly of defining both the position and momentum of a particle, this expression of discrete representation is called as the ‘uncertainty principle,’ the allowed wave functions that have  described stationary states of a system
 Part of the difficulty with the notions involved is that a system may be in an indeterminate state at a time, characterized only by the probability of some result for an observation, but then ‘become' determinate ( the collapse of the wave packet ) when an observation is made such as the position and momentum of a particle if that is to apply to reality itself, than to mere indetermincies of measurement. It is as if there is nothing but a potential for observation or a probability wave before observation is made, but when an observation is made the wave becomes a particle. The ave-particle duality seems to block any way of conceiving of physical reality-in quantum terms. In the famous two-slit experiment, an electron is fired at a screen with two slits, like a tennis ball thrown at a wall with two doors in it. If one puts detectors at each slit, every electron passing the screen is observed to go through exactly one slit. But when the detectors are taken away, the electron acts like a wave process going through both slits and interfering with itself. A particle such an electron is usually thought of as always having an exact position, but its wave is not absolutely zero anywhere, there is therefore a finite probability of it ‘tunnelling through' from one position to emerge at another.
 The unquestionable success of quantum mechanics has generated a large philosophical debate about its ultimate intelligibility and it's metaphysical implications. The wave-particle duality is already a departure from ordinary ways of conceiving of tings in space, and its difficulty is compounded by the probabilistic nature of the fundamental states of a system as they are conceived in quantum mechanics. Philosophical options for interpreting quantum mechanics have included variations of the belief that it is at best an incomplete description of a better-behaved classical underlying reality (Einstein), the Copenhagen interpretation according to which there are no objective unobserved events in the micro-world : Bohr and W. K. Heisenberg, 1901-76, an ‘acausal' view of the collapse of the wave packet, J. von Neumann, 1903-57, and a ‘many worlds' interpretation in which time forks perpetually toward innumerable futures, so that different states of the same system exist in different parallel universes ( H. Everett ).
 In recent tars the proliferation of subatomic particles, such as there are 36 kinds of quarks alone, in six flavours to look in various directions for unification. One avenue of approach is superstring theory, in which the four-dimensional world is thought of as the upshot of the collapse of a ten-dimensional world, with the four primary physical forces, one of gravity another is electromagnetism and the strong and weak nuclear forces, becoming seen as the result of the fracture of one primary force. While the scientific acceptability of such theories is a matter for physics, their ultimate intelligibility plainly requires some philosophical reflection.
 A theory of gravitation that is consistent with quantum mechanics whose subject, still in its infancy, has no completely satisfactory theory. In controventional quantum gravity, the gravitational force is mediated by a massless spin-2 particle, called the ‘graviton'. The internal degrees of freedom of the graviton require hij (   ) represent the deviations from the metric tensor for a flat space. This formulation of general relativity reduces it to a quantum field theory, which has a regrettable tendency to produce infinite for measurable qualitites. However, unlike other quantum field theories, quantum gravity cannot appeal to re-normalization procedures to make sense of these infinites. It has been shown that re-normalization procedures fail for theories, such as quantum gravity, in which the coupling constants have the dimensions of a positive power of length. The coupling constant g= for general relativity is the Planck length,
Lp = ( Gh / c3 )½   10  35 m.
Super-symmetry has been suggested as a structure that could be free from these pathological infinities. Many theorists believe that an effective superstring field theory may emerge, in which the Einstein field equations are no longer valid and general relativity is required to appar only as low energy limit. The resulting theory may be structurally different from anything that has been considered so far. Super-symmetric string theory ( or superstring ) is an extension of the ideas of Super-symmetry to one-dimensional string-like entities that can interact with each other and scatter according to a precise set of laws. The normal modes of super-strings represent an infinite set of ‘normal' elementary particles whose masses and spins are related in a special way. Thus, the graviton is only one of the string modes-when the string-scattering processes are analysed in terms of their particle content, the low-energy graviton scattering is found to be the same as that computed from Super-symmetric gravity. The graviton mode may still be related to the geometry of the space0time in which the string vibrates, but it remains to be seen whether the other, massive, members of the set of ‘normal' particles also have a geometrical interpretation. The intricacy of this theory stems from the requirement of a space-time of at least ten dimensions to ensure internal consistency. It has been suggested that there are the normal four dimensions, with the extra dimensions being tightly ‘curled up' in a small circle presumably of Planck length size.
 In the quantum theory or quantum mechanics of an atom or other system fixed, or determined by a given set of quantum numbers. It is one of the various quantum states that an atom can assume. The conceptual representation of an atom was first introduced by the ancient Greeks, as a tiny indivisible component of matter, developed by Dalton, as the smallest part of an element that can take part in a chemical reaction, and made very much more precisely by theory and excrement in the late-19th and 20th centuries.
 Following the discovery of the electron (1897), it was recognized that atoms had structure, since electrons are negatively charged, a neutral atom must have a positive component. The experiments of Geiger and Marsden on the scattering of alpha particles by thin metal foils led Rutherford to propose a model (1912) in which nearly, but all the mass of an atom is concentrated at its centre in a region of positive charge, the nucleus, the radius of the order 10 -15 metre. The electrons occupy the surrounding space to a radius of 10-11 to 10-10 m. Rutherford also proposed that the nucleus have a charge of ‘Ze' and is surrounded by ‘Z' electrons ( Z is the atomic number ). According to classical physics such a system must emit electromagnetic radiation continuously and consequently no permanent atom would be possible. This problem was solved by the development of the quantum theory.
 The ‘Bohr Theory of the Atom,’ 1913, introduced the concept that an electron in an atom is normally in a state of lower energy, or ground state, in which it remains indefinitely unless disturbed. By absorption of electromagnetic radiation or collision with another particle the atom may be excited  -that is an electron is moved into a state of higher energy. Such excited states usually have short lifetimes, typically nanoseconds and the electron returns to the ground state, commonly by emitting one or more quanta of electromagnetic radiation. The original theory was only partially successful in predicting the energies and other properties of the electronic states. Attempts were made to improve the theory by postulating elliptic orbits ( Sommerfeld 1915 ) and electron spin ( Pauli 1925 ) but a satisfactory theory only became possible upon the development of ‘Wave Mechanics,’ after 1925.
 According to modern theories, an electron does not follow a determinate orbit as envisaged by Bohr, but is in a state described by the solution of a wave equation. This determines the probability that the electron may be located in a given element of volume. Each state is characterized by a set of four quantum numbers, and, according to the Pauli exclusion principle, not more than one electron can be in a given state.
 The Pauli exclusion principle states that no two identical ‘fermions' in any system can be in the same quantum state that is have the same set of quantum numbers. The principle was first proposed ( 1925 ) in the form that not more than two electrons in an atom could have the same set of quantum numbers. This hypothesis accounted for the main features of the structure of the atom and for the periodic table. An electron in an atom is characterized by four quantum numbers, n, I, m, and s. A particular atomic orbital, which has fixed values of n, I, and m, can thus contain a maximum of two electrons, since the spin quantum number ‘s' can only be + | or   |. In 1928 Sommerfeld applied the principle to the free electrons in solids and his theory has been greatly developed by later associates.
 Additionally, an effect occurring when atoms emit or absorb radiation in the presence of a moderately strong magnetic field. Each spectral; Line is split into closely spaced polarized components, when the source is viewed at right angles to the field there are three components, the middle one having the same frequency as the unmodified line, and when the source is viewed parallel to the field there are two components, the undisplaced line being preoccupied. This is the ‘normal' Zeeman Effect. With most spectral lines, however, the anomalous Zeeman effect occurs, where there are a greater number of symmetrically arranged polarized components. In both effects the displacement of the components is a measure of the magnetic field strength. In some cases the components cannot be resolved and the spectral line appears broadened.
 The Zeeman effect occurs because the energies of individual electron states depend on their inclination to the direction of the magnetic field, and because quantum energy requirements impose conditions such that the plane of an electron orbit can only set itself at certain definite angles to the applied field. These angles are such that the projection of the total angular momentum on the field direction in an integral multiple of h/2  ( h is the Planck constant ). The Zeeman effect is observed with moderately strong fields where the precession of the orbital angular momentum and the spin angular momentum of the electrons about each other is much faster than the total precession around the field direction. The normal Zeeman effect is observed when the conditions are such that the Landé factor is unity, otherwise the anomalous effect is found. This anomaly was one of the factors contributing to the discovery of electron spin.
 Statistics that are concerned with the equilibrium distribution of elementary particles of a particular type among the various quantized energy states. It is assumed that these elementary particles are indistinguishable. The ‘Pauli Exclusion Principle’ is obeyed so that no two identical ‘fermions' can be in the same quantum mechanical state. The exchange of two identical fermions, i.e., two electrons, does not affect the probability of distribution but it does involve a change in the sign of the wave function. The ‘Fermi-Dirac Distribution Law’ gives  E the average number of identical fermions in a state of energy E:
 E = 1/[e  + E/kT + 1],
Where ‘k' is the Boltzmann constant, ‘T' is the thermodynamic temperature and   is a quantity depending on temperature and the concentration of particles. For the valences electrons in a solid, ‘ ' takes the form -E1/kT, where E1 is the Fermi level. Whereby, the Fermi level ( or Fermi energy ) E F the value of  E is exactly one half. Thus, for a system in equilibrium one half of the states with energy very nearly equal to ‘E' ( if any ) will be occupied. The value of EF varies very slowly with temperatures, tending to E0 as ‘T' tends to absolute zero.
 In Bose-Einstein statistics, the Pauli exclusion principle is not obeyed so that any number of identical ‘bosons' can be in the same state. The exchanger of two bosons of the same type affects neither the probability of distribution nor the sign of the wave function. The ‘Bose-Einstein Distribution Law’ gives  E the average number of identical bosons in a state of energy E:
 E = 1/[e  + E/kT - 1].
The formula can be applied to photons, considered as quasi-particles, provided that the quantity  , which conserves the number of particles, is zero. Planck's formula for the energy distribution of ‘Black-Body Radiation’ was derived from this law by Bose. At high temperatures and low concentrations both the quantum distribution laws tend to the classical distribution:
 E = Ae-E/kT.
Additionally, the property of substances that have a positive magnetic ‘susceptibility', whereby its quantity μr   1, and where μr is ‘Relative Permeability,’ again, that the electric-quantity presented as  r   1, where  r is the ‘Relative Permittivity,’ all of which has positivity. All of which are caused by the ‘spins’ of electrons, paramagnetic substances having molecules or atoms, in which there are paired electrons and thus, resulting of a ‘Magnetic Moment.’ There is also a contribution of the magnetic properties from the orbital motion of the electron, as the relative ‘permeability' of a paramagnetic substance is thus greater than that of a vacuum, i.e., it is slightly greater than unity.
 A ‘paramagnetic substance' is regarded as an assembly of magnetic dipoles that have random orientation. In the presence of a field the magnetization is determined by competition between the effect of the field, in tending to align the magnetic dipoles, and the random thermal agitation. In small fields and high temperatures, the magnetization produced is proportional to the field strength, wherefore at low temperatures or high field strengths, a state of saturation is approached. As the temperature rises, the susceptibility falls according to Curie's Law or the Curie-Weiss Law.
 Furthering by Curie's Law, the susceptibility (   ) of a paramagnetic substance is unversedly proportional to the ‘thermodynamic temperature' ( T ):   = C/T. The constant 'C is called the ‘Curie constant' and is characteristic of the material. This law is explained by assuming that each molecule has an independent magnetic ‘dipole' moment and the tendency of the applied field to align these molecules is opposed by the random moment due to the temperature. A modification of Curie's Law, followed by many paramagnetic substances, where the Curie-Weiss law modifies its applicability in the form
  = C/(T     ).
The law shows that the susceptibility is proportional to the excess of temperature over a fixed temperature  : ‘ ' is known as the Weiss constant and is a temperature characteristic of the material, such as sodium and potassium, also exhibit type of paramagnetic resulting from the magnetic moments of free, or nearly free electrons, in their conduction bands? This is characterized by a very small positive susceptibility and a very slight temperature dependence, and is known as ‘free-electron paramagnetism' or ‘Pauli paramagnetism'.
 A property of certain solid substances that having a large positive magnetic susceptibility having capabilities of being magnetized by weak magnetic fields. The chief elements are iron, cobalt, and nickel and many ferromagnetic alloys based on these metals also exist. Justifiably, ferromagnetic materials exhibit magnetic ‘hysteresis', of which formidable combination of decaying within the change of an observed effect in response to a change in the mechanism producing the effect.
(Magnetic) a phenomenon shown by ferromagnetic substances, whereby the magnetic flux through the medium depends not only on the existing magnetizing field, but also on the previous state or states of the substances, the existence of a phenomenon necessitates a dissipation of energy when the substance is subjected to a cycle of magnetic changes, this is known as the magnetic hysteresis loss. The magnetic hysteresis loops were acceding by a curved obtainability from ways of which, in themselves were of plotting the magnetic flux density ‘B', of a ferromagnetic material against the responding value of the magnetizing field 'H', the area to the ‘hysteresis loss' per unit volume in taking the specimen through the prescribed magnetizing cycle. The general forms of the hysteresis loop fore a symmetrical cycle between ‘H' and ‘~ H' and ‘H ~ h, having inclinations that rise to hysteresis.
 The magnetic hysteresis loss commands the dissipation of energy as due to magnetic hysteresis, when the magnetic material is subjected to changes, particularly, the cycle changes of magnetization, as having the larger positive magnetic susceptibility, and are capable of being magnetized by weak magnetic fields. Ferro magnetics are able to retain a certain domain of magnetization when the magnetizing field is removed. Those materials that retain a high percentage of their magnetization are said to be hard, and those that lose most of their magnetization are said to be soft, typical examples of hard ferromagnetic are cobalt steel and various alloys of nickel, aluminium and cobalt. Typical soft magnetic materials are silicon steel and soft iron, the coercive force as acknowledged to the reversed magnetic field' that is required to reduce the magnetic ‘flux density' in a substance from its remnant value to zero in characteristic of ferromagnetisms and explains by its presence of domains. A ferromagnetic domain is a region of crystalline matter, whose volume may be 10-12 to 10-8 m3, which contains atoms whose magnetic moments are aligned in the same direction. The domain is thus magnetically saturated and behaves like a magnet with its own magnetic axis and moment. The magnetic moment of the ferrometic atom results from the spin of the electron in an unfilled inner shell of the atom. The formation of a domain depends upon the strong interactions forces (Exchange forces) that are effective in a crystal lattice containing ferrometic atoms.
 In an unmagnetized volume of a specimen, the domains are arranged in a random fashion with their magnetic axes pointing in all directions so that the specimen has no resultant magnetic moment. Under the influence of a weak magnetic field, those domains whose magnetic saxes have directions near to that of the field flux at the expense of their neighbours. In this process the atoms of neighbouring domains tend to align in the direction of the field but the strong influence of the growing domain causes their axes to align parallel to its magnetic axis. The growth of these domains leads to a resultant magnetic moment and hence, magnetization of the specimen in the direction of the field, with increasing field strength, the growth of domains proceeds until there is, effectively, only one domain whose magnetic axis appropriates to the field direction. The specimen now exhibits tron magnetization. Further, increasing in field strength cause the final alignment and magnetic saturation in the field direction. This explains the characteristic variation of magnetization with applied strength. The presence of domains in ferromagnetic materials can be demonstrated by use of ‘Bitter Patterns’ or by ‘Barkhausen Effect.’
 For ferromagnetic solids there are a change from ferromagnetic to paramagnetic behaviour above a particular temperature and the paramagnetic material then obeyed the Curie-Weiss Law above this temperature, this is the ‘Curie temperature' for the material. Below this temperature the law is not obeyed. Some paramagnetic substances, obey the temperature ‘  C' and do not obey it below, but are not ferromagnetic below this temperature. The value ‘ ' in the Curie-Weiss law can be thought of as a correction to Curie's law reelecting the extent to which the magnetic dipoles interact with each other. In materials exhibiting ‘antiferromagnetism' of which the temperature ‘ ' corresponds to the ‘Néel temperature'.
 Without discredited inquisitions, the property of certain materials that have a low positive magnetic susceptibility, as in paramagnetism, and exhibit a temperature dependence similar to that encountered in ferromagnetism. The susceptibility increased with temperatures up to a certain point, called the ‘Néel Temperature,’ and then falls with increasing temperatures in accordance with the Curie-Weiss law. The material thus becomes paramagnetic above the Néel temperature, which is analogous to the Curie temperature in the transition from ferromagnetism to paramagnetism. Antiferromagnetism is a property of certain inorganic compounds such as MnO, FeO, FeF2 and MnS. It results from interactions between neighbouring atoms leading and an antiparallel arrangement of adjacent magnetic dipole moments, least of mention. A system of two equal and opposite charges placed at a very short distance apart. The product of either of the charges and the distance between them is known as the ‘electric dipole moments. A small loop carrying a current I behave as a magnetic dipole and is equal to IA, where A being the area of the loop.
 The energy associated with a quantum state of an atom or other system that is fixed, or determined by a given set of quantum numbers. It is one of the various quantum states that can be assumed by an atom under defined conditions. The term is often used to mean the state itself, which is incorrect by ways of: (1) the energy of a given state may be changed by externally applied fields, and (2) there may be a number of states of equal energy in the system.
 The electrons in an atom can occupy any of an infinite number of bound states with discrete energies. For an isolated atom the energy for a given state is exactly determinate except for the effects of the ‘uncertainty principle'. The ground state with lowest energy has an infinite lifetime, hence the energy is if, in at all as a principle that is exactly determinate. The energies of these states are most accurately measured by finding the wavelength of the radiation emitted or absorbed in transitions between them, i.e., from their line spectra. Theories of the atom have been developed to predict these energies by calculating such a system that emit electromagnetic radiation continuously and consequently no permanent atom would be possible, hence this problem was solved by the developments of quantum theory. An exact calculation of the energies and other particles of the quantum state is only possible for the simplest atom but there are various approximate methods that give useful results as an approximate method of solving a difficult problem, if the equations to be solved, and depart only slightly from those of some problems already solved. For example, the orbit of a single planet round the sun is an ellipse, that the perturbing effect of other planets modifies the orbit slightly in a way calculable by this method. The technique finds considerable application in ‘wave mechanics' and in ‘quantum electrodynamics'. Phenomena that are not amendable to solution by perturbation theory are said to be non-perturbative.
 The energies of unbound states of positive total energy form a continuum. This gives rise to the continuos background to an atomic spectrum, as electrons are captured from unbound state, the energy of an atomic state can be changed by the ‘Stark Effect’ or the ‘Zeeman Effect.’
 The vibrational energies of molecules also have discrete values, for example, in a diatomic molecule the atoms oscillate in the line joining them. There is an equilibrium distance at which the force is zero, and the atoms deflect when closer and attract when further apart. The restraining force is very nearly proportional to the displacement, hence the oscillations are simple harmonic. Solution of the ‘Schrödinger wave equation' gives the energies of a harmonic oscillation as:
En = ( n + ½ ) hƒ
Where ‘h' is the Planck constant, ƒ is the frequency, and ‘n' is the vibrational quantum number, which can be zero or any positive integer. The lowest possible vibrational energy of an oscillator is thus not zero but ½hƒ. This is the cause of zero-point energy. The potential energy of interaction of atoms is described more exactly by the Morse equation, which shows that the oscillations are slightly anharmonic. The vibrations of molecules are investigated by the study of ‘band spectra'.
 The rotational energy of a molecule is quantized also, according to the Schrödinger equation a body with moments of inertia I about the axis of rotation have energies given by:
Ej = h2J(J + 1 )/8 2 I,
Where ‘J' is the rotational quantum number, which can be zero or a positive integer. Rotational energies are found from ‘band spectra'.
 The energies of the states of the ‘nucleus' can be determined from the gamma ray spectrum and from various nuclear reactions. Theory has been less successful in predicting these energies than those of electrons in atoms because the interactions of nucleons are very complicated. The energies are very little affected by external influences, but the ‘Mössbauer Effect’ has permitted the observation of some minute changes.
 When X-rays are scattered by atomic centres arranged at regular intervals, interference phenomena occur, crystals providing grating of a suitable small interval. The interference effects may be used to provide a spectrum of the beam of X-rays, since, according to ‘Bragg's Law,’ the angle of reflection of X-rays from a crystal depends on the wavelength of the rays. For lower-energy X-rays mechanically ruled grating can be used. Each chemical element emits characteristic X-rays in sharply defined groups in more widely separated regions. They are known as the K, L's, M, N. etc., promote lines of any series toward shorter wavelengths as the atomic number of the elements concerned increases. If a parallel beam of X-rays, wavelength  , strikes a set of crystal planes it is reflected from the different planes, interferences occurring between X-rays reflect from adjacent planes. Bragg's Law states that constructive interference takes place when the difference in path-lengths, BAC, is equal to an integral number of wavelengths
2d sin   = n
where ‘n' is an integer, ‘d' is the interplanar distance, and ‘ ' is the angle between the incident X-ray and the crystal plane. This angle is called the ‘Bragg's Angle,’ and a bright spot will be obtained on an interference pattern at this angle. A dark spot will be obtained, however. If be, 2d sin   = m . Where ‘m' is half-integral. The structure of a crystal can be determined from a set of interference patterns found at various angles from the different crystal faces.
 A concept originally introduced by the ancient Greeks, as a tiny indivisible component of matter, developed by Dalton, as the smallest part of an element that can take part in a chemical reaction, and made experiment in the late-19th and early 20th century. Following the discovery of the electron ( 1897 ), they recognized that atoms had structure, since electrons are negatively charged, a neutral atom must have a positive component. The experiments of Geiger and Marsden on the scattering of alpha particles by thin metal foils led Rutherford to propose a model ( 1912 ) in which nearly all mass of the atom is concentrated at its centre in a region of positive charge, the nucleus is a region of positive charge, the nucleus, radiuses of the order 10-15 metre. The electrons occupy the surrounding space to a radius of 10-11 to 10-10 m. Rutherford also proposed that the nucleus have a charge of Ze is surrounded by ‘Z' electrons ( Z is the atomic number ). According to classical physics such a system must emit electromagnetic radiation continuously and consequently no permanent atom would be possible. This problem was solved by the developments of the ‘Quantum Theory.’
 The ‘Bohr Theory of the Atom’ ( 1913 ) introduced the notion that an electron in an atom is normally in a state of lowest energy ( ground state ) in which it remains indefinitely unless disturbed by absorption of electromagnetic radiation or collision with other particle the atom may be excited  -that is, electrons moved into a state of higher energy. Such excited states usually have short life spans ( typically nanoseconds ) and the electron returns to the ground state, commonly by emitting one or more ‘quanta' of electromagnetic radiation. The original theory was only partially successful in predicting the energies and other properties of the electronic states. Postulating elliptic orbits made attempts to improve the theory ( Sommerfeld 1915 ) and electron spin ( Pauli 1925 ) but a satisfactory theory only became possible upon the development of ‘Wave Mechanics’ 1925.
 According to modern theories, an electron does not follow a determinate orbit as envisaged by Bohr, but is in a state described by the solution of the wave equation. This determines the ‘probability' that the electron may be found in a given element of volume. A set of four quantum numbers has characterized each state, and according to the ‘Pauli Exclusion Principle,’ not more than one electron can be in a given state.
 An exact calculation of the energies and other properties of the quantum states is possible for the simplest atoms, but various approximate methods give useful results, i.e., as an approximate method of solving a difficult problem if the equations to be solved and depart only slightly from those of some problems already solved. The properties of the innermost electron states of complex atoms are found experimentally by the study of X-ray spectra. The outer electrons are investigated using spectra in the infrared, visible, and ultraviolet. Certain details have been studied using microwaves. As administered by a small difference in energy between the energy levels of the 2 P½ states of hydrogen. In accord with Lamb Shift, these levels would have the same energy according to the wave mechanics of Dirac. The actual shift can be explained by a correction to the energies based on the theory of the interaction of electromagnetic fields with matter, in of which the fields themselves are quantized. Yet, other information may be obtained form magnetism and other chemical properties.
 Its appearance potential concludes as, ( 1 )the potential differences through which an electron must be accelerated from rest to produce a given ion from its parent atom or molecule. ( 2 ) This potential difference multiplied bu the electron charge giving the least energy required to produce the ion. A simple ionizing process gives the ‘ionization potential' of the substance, for example:
Ar + e   Ar + + 2e.
Higher appearance potentials may be found for multiplying charged ions:
Ar + e   Ar + + + 3r.
The number of protons in a nucleus of an atom or the number of electrons resolving around the nucleus is among some concerns of atomic numbers. The atomic number determines the chemical properties of an element and the element's position in the periodic table, because of which the clarification of chemical elements, in tabular form, in the order of their atomic number. The elements show a periodicity of properties, chemically similar recurring in a definite order. The sequence of elements is thus broken into horizontal ‘periods' and vertical ‘groups' the elements in each group showing close chemical analogies, i.e., in valency, chemical properties, etc. all the isotopes of an element have the same atomic number although different isotopes gave mass numbers.
 An allowed ‘wave function' of an electron in an atom obtained by a solution of the Schrödinger wave equation. In a hydrogen atom, for example, the electron moves in the electrostatic field of the nucleus and its potential energy is  e2, where ‘e' is the electron charge. ‘r' its distance from the nucleus, as a precise orbit cannot be considered as in Bohr's theory of the atom, but the behaviour of the electron is described by its wave function,  , which is a mathematical function of its position with respect to the nucleus. The significance of the wave function is that |   | 2dt, is the probability of finding the electron in the element of volume ‘dt'.
 Solution of Schrödinger's equation for hydrogen atom shows that the electron can only have certain allowed wave functions ( eigenfunction ). Each of these corresponds to a probability distribution in space given by the manner in which |   | 2 varies with position. They also have an associated value of energy ‘E'. These allowed wave functions, or orbitals, are characterized by three quantum numbers similar to those characterizing the allowed orbits in the quantum theory of the atom:
‘n', the ‘principle quantum number', can have values of 1, 2, 3, etc. the orbital with n=1 has the lowest energy. The states of the electron with n=1, 2, 3, etc., are called ‘shells' and designated the K, L, M shells, etc.
‘I' the ‘azimuthal quanta number' which for a given value of ‘n' can have values of 0, 1, 2, . . . ( n  1 ). Similarly, the 'M' shell ( n = 3 ) has three sub-shells with I = 0, I = 1, and I = 2. Orbitals with I = 0, 1, 2, and 3 are called s, p, d, and   orbitals respectively. The significance of the I quantum number is that it gives the angular momentum of the electron. The orbital annular momentum of an electron is given by
 [1(I + 1)(h2 )]
‘m' the ‘magnetic quanta number', which for a given value of ‘I' can have values of;  I,  (I   1), . . . , 0, . . . (I  1). Thus for ‘p' orbital for which I = 1, there is in fact three different orbitals with m =   1, 0, and 1. These orbitals with the same values of ‘n' and ‘I ‘ but different ‘m' values, have the same energy. The significance of this quantum number is that it shows the number of different levels that would be produced if the atom were subjected to an external magnetic field
 According to wave theory the electron may be at any distance from the nucleus, but in fact there is only a reasonable chance of it being within a distance of   5 x 1011 metre. Indeed the maximum probability occurs when r = a0 where a0 is the radius of the first Bohr orbit. It is customary to represent an orbit that there is no arbitrarily decided probability ( say 95% ) of finding them an electron. Notably taken, is that although ‘s' orbitals are spherical ( I = 0 ), orbitals with I > 0, have an angular dependence. Finally. The electron in an atom can have a fourth quantum number, ‘M' characterizing its spin direction. This can be + ½ or   ½ and according to the Pauli Exclusion principle, each orbital can hold only two electrons. The fourth quantum numbers lead to an explanation of the periodic table of the elements.
 The least distance in a progressive wave between two surfaces with the same phase arises to a wavelength. If ‘v' is the phase speed and ‘v' the frequency, the wavelength is given by v = v . For electromagnetic radiation the phase speed and wavelength in a material medium are equal to their values in a free space divided by the ‘refractive index'. The wavelengths of spectral lines are normally specified for free space.
 Optical wavelengths are measure absolutely using interferometers or diffraction gratings, or comparatively using a prism spectrometer. The wavelength can only have an exact value for an infinite waver train if an atomic body emits a quantum in the form of a train of waves of duration   the fractional uncertainty of the wavelength,   / , is approximately  /2c , where ‘c' is the speed in free space. This is associated with the indeterminacy of the energy given by the uncertainty principle
 Whereas, a mathematical quantity analogous to the amplitude of a wave that appears in the equation of wave mechanics, particularly the Schrödinger waves equation. The most generally accepted interpretation is that |   | 2dV represents the probability that a particle is within the volume element dV. The wavelengths, as a set of waves that represent the behaviour, under appropriate conditions, of a particle, e.g., its diffraction by a particle. The wavelength is given by the ‘de Broglie Equation.’ They are sometimes regarded as waves of probability, times the square of their amplitude at a given point represents the probability of finding the particle in unit volume at that point. These waves were predicted by de Broglie in 1924 and observed in 1927 in the Davisson-Germer Experiment. Still, ‘ ' is often a might complex quality.
 The analogy between ‘ ' and the amplitude of a wave is purely formal. There is no macroscopic physical quantity with which ‘ ' can be identified, in contrast with, for example, the amplitude of an electromagnetic wave, which is expressed in terms of electric and magnetic field intensities
 In general, there are an infinite number of functions satisfying a wave equation but only some of these will satisfy the boundary conditions. ‘ ' must be finite and single-valued at every point, and the spatial derivative must be continuous at an interface? For a particle subject to a law of conservation of numbers, the integral of |   | 2dV over all space must remain equal to 1, since this is the probability that it exists somewhere to satisfy this condition the wave equation must be of the first order in (d /dt). Wave functions obtained when these conditions are applied from a set of characteristic functions of the Schrödinger wave equation. These are often called eigenfunctions and correspond to a set of fixed energy values in which the system may exist describe stationary states on the system.
For certain bound states of a system the eigenfunctions do not charge the sign or reversing the co-ordinated axes. These states are said to have even parity. For other states the sign changes on space reversal and the parity is said to be odd.
 It's issuing case of eigenvalue problems in physics that take the form:
   =   ,
Where   is come mathematical operation ( multiplication by a number, differentiation, etc.) on a function  , which is called the ‘eigenfunction'.   is called the ‘eigenvalue', which in a physical system will be identified with an observable quantity, as, too, an atom to other systems that are fixed, or determined, by a given set of quantum numbers? It is one of the various quantum states that can be assumed by an atom
 Eigenvalue problems are ubiquitous in classical physics and occur whenever the mathematical description of a physical system yields a series of coupled differential equations. For example, the collective motion of a large number of interacting oscillators may be described by a set of coupled differential equations. Each differential equation describes the motion of one of the oscillators in terms of the positions of all the others. A ‘harmonic' solution may be sought, in which each displacement is assumed as a simple harmonic motion in time. The differential equations then reduce to ‘3N' linear equations with 3N unknowns. Where ‘N' is the number of individual oscillators, each problem is from each one of three degrees of freedom. The whole problem I now easily recast as a ‘matrix' equation of the form:
M  =  2 .
Where ‘M' is an N x N matrix called the ‘a dynamic matrix,   is an N x 1 column matrix, and  2 of the harmonic solution. The problem is now an eigenvalue problem with eigenfunctions'  , where are the normal modes of the system, with corresponding eigenvalues  2. As   can be expressed as a column vector,   is a vector in some –dimensional vector space. For this reason,   is also often called an eigenvector.
 When the collection of oscillators is a complicated three-dimensional molecule, the casting of the problem into normal modes s and effective simplification of the system. The symmetry principles of group theory, the symmetry operations in any physical system must be posses the properties of the mathematical group. As the group of rotation, both finite and infinite, are important in the analysis of the symmetry of atoms and molecules, which underlie the quantum theory of angular momentum. Eigenvalue problems arise in the quantum mechanics of atomic arising in the quantum mechanics of atomic or molecular systems yield stationary states corresponding to the normal mode oscillations of either electrons in-an atom or atoms within a molecule. Angular momentum quantum numbers correspond to a labelling system used to classify these normal modes, analysing the transitions between them can lead and theoretically predict of atomic or a molecular spectrum. Whereas, the symmetrical principle of group theory can then be applied, from which allow their classification accordingly. In which, this kind of analysis requires an appreciation of the symmetry properties of the molecules ( rotations, inversions, etc. ) that leave the molecule invariant make up the point group of that molecule. Normal modes sharing the same   eigenvalues are said to correspond to the irreducible representations of these molecules' point group. It is among these irreducible representations that one will find the infrared absorption spectrum for the vibrational normal modes of the molecule.
 Eigenvalue problems play a particularly important role in quantum mechanics. In quantum mechanics, physically observable as location momentum energy etc., are represented by operations ( differentiations with respect to a variable, multiplication by a variable ), which act on wave functions. Wave functioning differs from classical waves in that they carry no energy. For classical waves, the square modulus of its amplitude measures its energy. For a wave function, the square modulus of its amplitude, at a location   represents not energy bu probability, i.e., the probability that a particle  -a localized packet of energy will be observed in a detector is placed at that location. The wave function therefore describes the distribution of possible locations of the particle and is perceptible only after many location detectors events have occurred. A measurement of position of a quantum particle may be written symbolically as:
X  ( ) =   ( ),
Where  (   ) is said to be an eigenvector of the location operator and ‘ ' is the eigenvalue, which represents the location. Each  ( ) represents amplitude at the location ‘ ', |  ( ) |2 is the probability that the particle will be found in an infinitesimal volume at that location. The wave function describing the distribution of all possible locations for the particle is the linear superposition of all  ( ) for zero       . These principles that hold generally in physics wherever linear phenomena occur. In elasticity, the principle stares that the same strains whether it acts alone accompany each stress or in conjunction with others, it is true so long as the total stress does not exceed the limit of proportionality. In vibrations and wave motion the principle asserts that one set is unaffected by the presence of another set. For example, two sets of ripples on water will pass through one anther without mutual interaction so that, at a particular instant, the resultant distribution at any point traverse by both sets of waves is the sum of the two component disturbances.'
 The superposition of two vibrations, y1 and y2, both of frequency  , produces a resultant vibration of the same frequency, its amplitude and phase functions of the component amplitudes and phases, that:
y1 = a1 sin(2  t +  1)
y2 = a2 sin(sin(2  t +  2)
Then the resultant vibration, y, is given by:
y1 + y2 = A sin(2  t +  ),
Where amplitude A and phase   is both functions of a1, a2,  1, and  2.
 However, the eigenvalue problems in quantum mechanics therefore represent observable representations as made by possible states ( position, in the case of   ) that the quantum system can have to stationary states, of which states that the product of the uncertainty of the resulting value of a component of momentum ( p ) and the uncertainties in the corresponding co-ordinate position (   ) is of the same order of magnitude as the Planck Constant. It produces an accurate measurement of position is possible, as a resultant of the uncertainty principle. Subsequently, measurements of the position acquire a spread themselves, which makes the continuos monitoring of the position impossibly.
 As in, classical mechanics may take differential or matrix forms. Both forms have been shown to be equivalent. The differential form of quantum mechanics is called wave mechanics ( Schrödinger ), where the operators are differential operators or multiplications by variables. Eigenfunctions in wave mechanics are wave functions corresponding to stationary wave states that responding to stationary conditions. The matrix forms of quantum mechanics are often matrix mechanics: Born and Heisenberg. Matrices acting of eigenvectors represent the operators.
 The relationship between matrix and wave mechanics is similar to the relationship between matrix and differential forms of eigenvalue problems in classical mechanics. The wave functions representing stationary states are really normal modes of the quantum wave. These normal modes may be thought of as vectors that span on a vector space, which have a matrix representation.
 Pauli, in 1925, suggested that each electron could exist in two states with the same orbital motion. Uhlenbeck and Goudsmit interpreted these states as due to the spin of the electron about an axis. The electron is assumed to have an intrinsic angular momentum on addition, to any angular momentum due to its orbital motion. This intrinsic angular momentum is called ‘spin' It is quantized in values of
  s(s + 1)h/2 ,
Where ‘s' is the ‘spin quantum number' and ‘h' the Planck constant. For an electron the component of spin in a given direction can have values of + ½ and – ½, leading to the two possible states. An electron with spin that is behaviourally likens too small magnetic moments, in which came alongside an intrinsic magnetic moment. A ‘magneton gives of a fundamental constant, whereby the intrinsic magnetic moment of an electron acquires the circulatory current created by the angular momentum ‘p' of an electron moving in its orbital produces a magnetic moment μ = ep/2m, where ‘e and ‘m' are the charge and mass of the electron, by substituting the quantized relation p = jh/2 (h = the Planck constant; j = magnetic quantum number ), μ - jh/4 m. When j is taken as unity the quantity eh/4 m is called the Bohr magneton, its value is:
9.274 0780 x 10-24 Am2
Acording to the wave mechanics of Dirac, the magnetic moment associated with the spin of the electron would be exactly one Bohr magnetron, although quantum electrodynamics show that a small difference can v=be expected.
The nuclear magnetron, ‘μN' is equal to (me/mp)μB. Where mp is the mass of the proton. The value of μN is:
5.050 8240 x 10-27 A m2
The magnetic moment of a proton is, in fact, 2.792 85 nuclear magnetos. The two states of different energy result from interactions between the magnetic field due to the electron's spin and that caused by its orbital motion. These are two closely spaced states resulting from the two possible spin directions and these lead to the two limes in the doublet.
 In an external magnetic field the angular momentum vector of the electron precesses. For an explicative example, if a body is of a spin, it holds about its axis of symmetry OC ( where O is a fixed point ) and C is rotating round an axis OZ fixed outside the body, the body is said to be precessing round OZ. OZ is the precession axis. A gyroscope precesses due to an applied torque called the precessional torque. If the moment of inertia a body about OC is I and its angular momentum velocity is  , a torque ‘K', whose axis is perpendicular to the axis of rotation will produce an angular velocity of precession   about an axis perpendicular to both   and the torque axis where:   = K/I .
 It is . . . , wholly orientated of the vector to the field direction are allowed, there is a quantization so that the component of the angular momentum along the direction I restricted of certain values of h/2 . The angular momentum vector has allowed directions such that the component is mS(h2 ), where mS is the magnetic so in quantum number. For a given value of s, mS has the value's, ( s - 1), . . . –s. For example, when           s = 1, mS is I, O, and – 1. The electron has a spin of ½ and thus mS is + ½ and – ½. Thus the components of its spin of angular momentum along the field direction are,
± ½(h/2 ). These phenomena are called ‘a space quantization'.
 The resultant spin of a number of particles is the vector sum of the spins ( s ) of the individual particles and is given by symbol S. for example, in an atom two electrons with spin of ½ could combine to give a resultant spin of S = ½ + ½ = 1 or a resultant of
S = ½ – ½ =1 or a resultant of S = ½ – ½ =0.
 Alternative symbols used for spin is J ( for elementary particles or standard theory ) and I ( for a nucleus ). Most elementary particles have a non-zero spin, which either be integral of half integral. The spin of a nucleus is the resultant of the spin of its constituent's nucleons.
 For most generally accepted interpretations is that |   |2dV represents the probability that particle is located within the volume element dV, as well, ‘ ' is often a complex quantity. The analogy between ‘ ' and the amplitude of a wave is purely formal. There is no macroscopic physical quantity with which ‘ ' can be identified, in contrast with, for example, the amplitude of an electromagnetic wave, which are expressed in terms of electric and magnetic field intensities. There are an infinite number of functions satisfying a wave equation, but only some of these will satisfy the boundary condition. ‘ ' must be finite and single-valued at each point, and the spatial derivatives must be continuous at an interface? For a particle subject to a law of conservation of numbers; The integral of |   |2dV over all space must remain equal to 1, since this is the probability that it exists somewhere. To satisfy this condition the wave equation must be of the first order in (d dt). Wave functions obtained when these conditions are applied form of set of ‘characteristic functions' of the Schrödinger wave equation. These are often called ‘eigenfunctions' and correspond to a set of fixed energy values in which the system may exist, called ‘eigenvalues'. Energy eigenfunctions describe stationary states of a system. For example, bound states of a system the eigenfunctions do not change signs on reversing the co-ordinated axes. These states are said to have ‘even parity'. For other states the sign changes on space reversal and the parity is said to be ‘odd'.
 The least distance in a progressive wave between two surfaces with the same phase. If ‘v' is the ‘phase speed' and ‘v' the frequency, the wavelength is given by v = v . For ‘electromagnetic radiation' the phase speed and wavelength in a material medium are equal to their values I free space divided by the ‘refractive index'. The wavelengths are spectral lines are normally specified for free space. Optical wavelengths are measured absolutely using interferometers or diffraction grating, or comparatively using a prism spectrometer.
 The wavelength can only have an exact value for an infinite wave train. If an atomic body emits a quantum in the form of a train of waves of duration ‘ ' the fractional uncertainty of the wavelength,   / , is approximately  /2 c , where ‘c' is the speed of free space. This is associated with the indeterminacy of the energy given by the ‘uncertainty principle'.
 A moment of momentum about an axis, represented as Symbol: L, the product of the moment of inertia and angular velocity ( I  ) angular momentum is a ‘pseudo vector quality'. It is conserved in an isolated system, as the moment of inertia contains itself of a body about an axis. The sum of the products of the mass of each particle of a body and square of its perpendicular distance from the axis: This addition is replaced by an integration in the case of continuous body. For a rigid body moving about a fixed axis, the laws of motion have the same form as those of rectilinear motion, with moments of inertia replacing mass, angular velocity replacing linear momentum, etc. hence the ‘energy' of a body rotating about a fixed axis with angular velocity    is  ½I 2, which corresponds to ½mv2 for the kinetic energy of a body mass ‘m' translated with velocity ‘v'.
 The linear momentum of a particle ‘p' bears the product of the mass and the velocity of the particle. It is a ‘vector' quality directed through the particle of a body or a system of particles is the vector sum of the linear momentums of the individual particles. If a body of mass ‘M' is translated ( the movement of a body or system in which a way that all points are moved in parallel directions through equal distances ), with a velocity ‘V', it has its mentum as ‘MV', which is the momentum of a particle of mass ‘M' at the centre of gravity of the body. The product of ‘moment of inertia and angular velocity'. Angular momentum is a ‘pseudo vector quality and is conserved in an isolated system, and equal to the linear velocity divided by the radial axes per sec.
 If the moment of inertia of a body of mass ‘M' about an axis through the centre of mass is I, the moment of inertia about a parallel axis distance ‘h' from the first axis is         I + Mh2. If the radius of gyration is ‘k' about the first axis, it is  (k2 + h2 ) about the second. The moment of inertia of a uniform solid body about an axis of symmetry is given by the product of the mass and the sum of squares of the other semi-axes, divided by 3, 4, 5 according to whether the body is rectangular, elliptical or ellipsoidal.
 The circle is a special case of the ellipse. The Routh's rule works for a circular or elliptical cylinder or elliptical discs it works for all three axes of symmetry. For example, for a circular disk of the radius ‘an' and mass ‘M', the moment of inertia about an axis through the centre of the disc and lying ( a ) perpendicular to the disc, ( b ) in the plane of the disc is
( a ) ¼M( a2 + a2 ) = ½Ma2
( b ) ¼Ma2.
A formula for calculating moments of inertia I:
I = mass x (a2 /3 + n) + b2 /(3 + n  ),
Where n and n  are the numbers of principal curvatures of the surface that terminates the semiaxes in question and ‘a' and ‘b's' are the lengths of the semiaxes. Thus, if the body is a rectangular parallelepiped, n = n  = 0, and
I = - mass x (a2 / 3 + b2 /3).
 If the body is a cylinder then, for an axis through its centre, perpendicular to the cylinder axis, n = 0 and n  = 1, it substantiates that if,
I = mass x (a2 / 3 + b2 /4).
If ‘I' is desired about the axis of the cylinder, then n= n  = 1 and a = b = r ( the cylinder radius) and; I = mass x ( r2 /2 ).
 An array of mathematical concepts, which is similar to a determinant but differ from it in not having a numerical value in the ordinary sense of the term is called a matrix. It obeys the same rules of multiplication, addition. Etc. an array of ‘mn' numbers set out in ‘m' rows and ‘n' columns are a matrix of the order of m x n. the separate numbers are usually called elements, such arrays of numbers, tarted as single entities and manipulated by the rules of matrix algebra, are of use whenever simultaneous equations are found, e.g., changing from one set of Cartesian axes to another set inclined the first: Quantum theory, electrical networks. Matrixes are very prominent in the mathematical expression of quantum mechanics.
 A mathematical form of quantum mechanics that was developed by Born and Heisenberg and originally simultaneously with but independently of wave mechanics. It is equivalent to wave mechanics, but in it the wave function of wave mechanics is replaced by ‘vectors' in a seemly space ( Hilbert space ) and observable things of the physical world, such as energy, momentum, co-ordinates, etc., is represented by ‘matrices'.
 The theory involves the idea that a maturement on a system disturbs, to some extent, the system itself. With large systems this is of no consequence, and the system this is of no classical mechanics. On the atomic scale, however, the results of the order in which the observations are made. T0atd if ‘p' denotes an observation of a component of momentum and ‘q.  An observer of the corresponding co-ordinates pq   qp. Here ‘p' and ‘q' are not physical quantities but operators. In matrix mechanics and obey te relationship
pq   qp = ih/2
where ‘h' is the Planck constant that equals to 6.626 076 x 10-34 j s. The matrix elements are connected with the transition probability between various states of the system.
 A quantity with magnitude and direction. It can be represented by a line whose length is propositional to the magnitude and whose direction is that of the vector, or by three components in rectangular co-ordinate system. Their angle between vectors is 90%, that the product and vector product base a similarity to unit vectors such, are to either be equated to being zero or one.
 A true vector, or polar vector, involves the displacement or virtual displacement. Polar vectors include velocity, acceleration, force, electric and magnetic strength. Th deigns of their components are reversed on reversing the co-ordinated axes. Their dimensions include length to an odd power.
 A Pseudo vector, or axial vector, involves the orientation of an axis in space. The direction is conventionally obtained in a right-handed system by sighting along the axis so that the rotation appears clockwise, Pseudo-vectors includes angular velocity, vector area and magnetic flux density. The signs of their components are unchanged on reversing the co-ordinated axes. Their dimensions include length to an even power.
 Polar vectors and axial vectors obey the same laws of the vector analysis
( a ) Vector addition: If two vectors ‘A' and ‘B' are represented in magnitude and direction by the adjacent sides of a parallelogram, the diagonal represents the vector sun ( A + B ) in magnitude and direction, forces, velocity, etc., combine in this way.
( b ) Vector multiplying: There are two ways of multiplying vectors ( I ) the ‘scalar product' of two vectors equals the product of their magnitudes and the co-sine of the angle between them, and is scalar quantity. It is usually written
A • B ( reads as A dot B )
(ii ) The vector product of two vectors: A and B are defined as a pseudo vector of magnitude AB sin  , having a direction perpendicular to the plane containing them. The sense of the product along this perpendicular is defined by the rule: If ‘A' is turned toward ‘B' through the smaller angle, this rotation appears of the vector product. A vector product is usually written
A x B ( reads as A cross B ).
Vectors should be distinguished from scalars by printing the symbols in bold italic letters.
 A theo1y that seeks to unite the properties of gravitational, electromagnetic, weak, and strong interactions to predict all their characteristics. At present it is not known whether such a theory can be developed, or whether the physical universe is amenable to a single analysis about the current concepts of physics. There are unsolved problems in using the framework of a relativistic quantum field theory to encompass the four elementary particles. It may be that using extended objects, as superstring and super-symmetric theories, but, still, this will enable a future synthesis for achieving obtainability.
 A unified quantum field theory of the electromagnetic, weak and strong interactions, in most models, the known interactions are viewed as a low-energy manifestation of a single unified interaction, the unification taking place at energies (Typically 1015 GeV) very much higher than those currently accessible in particle accelerations. One feature of the Grand Unified Theory is that ‘baryon' number and ‘lepton' number would no-longer be absolutely conserved quantum numbers, with the consequences that such processes as ‘proton decay', for example, the decay of a proton into a positron and a  0, p   e+ 0 would be expected to be observed. Predicted lifetimes for proton decay are very long, typically 1035 years. Searchers for proton decay are being undertaken by many groups, using large underground detectors, so far without success.
 One of the mutual attractions binding the universe of its owing totality, but independent of electromagnetism, strong and weak nuclear forces of interactive bondages is one of gravitation. Newton showed that the external effect of a spherical symmetric body is the same as if the whole mass were concentrated at the centre. Astronomical bodies are roughly spherically symmetric so can be treated as point particles to a very good approximation. On this assumption Newton showed that his law consistent with Kepler's laws? Until recently, all experiments have confirmed the accuracy of the inverse square law and the independence of the law upon the nature of the substances, but in the past few years evidence has been found against both.
 The size of a gravitational field at any point is given by the force exerted on unit mass at that point. The field intensity at a distance ‘ ' from a point mass ‘m' is therefore Gm/ 2, and acts toward ‘m'. Gravitational field strength is measured in ‘newtons' per kilogram. The gravitational potential ‘V' at that point is the work done in moving a unit mass from infinity to the point against the field, due to a point mass.
                                                                                                               
V = Gm     d  /  2 =   Gm /  .
V is a scalar measurement in joules per kilogram. The following special cases are also important ( a ) Potential at a point distance   from the centre of a hollow homogeneous spherical shell of mass ‘m' and outside the shell:
V =  Gm /  .
The potential is the same as if the mass of the shell is assumed concentrated at the centre ( b ) At any point inside the spherical shell the potential is equal to its value at the surface:
V =  Gm / r
Where ‘r' is the radius of the shell. Thus, there is no resultant force acting at any point inside the shell, since no potential difference acts between any two points, then ( c ) Potential at a point distance ‘ ' from the centre of a homogeneous solid sphere and outside the spheres the same as that for a shell:
V =  Gm / 
( d ) At a point inside the sphere, of radius ‘r'.
V =  Gm( 3r2    2 ) /2r3.
The essential property of gravitation is that it causes a change in motion, in particular the acceleration of free fall ( g ) in the earth's gravitational field. According to the general theory of relativity, gravitational fields change the geometry of space-timer, causing it to become curved. It is this curvature that is geometrically responsible for an inseparability of the continuum of ‘space-time' and its forbearing product is to a vicinities mass, entrapped by the universality of spacetime, that in ways described by the pressures of their matter, that controls the natural motions of fording bodies. General relativity may thus be considered as a theory of gravitation, differences between it and Newtonian gravitation only appearing when the gravitational fields become very strong, as with ‘black-holes' and ‘neutron stars', or when very accurate measurements can be made.
 Another binding characteristic embodied universally is the interaction between elementary particle arising as a consequence of their associated electric and magnetic fields. The electrostatic force between charged particles is an example. This force may be described in terms of the exchange of virtual photons, because of the uncertainty principle it is possible for the law of conservation of mass and energy to be broken by an amount  E providing this only occurring for a time such that:
 E t   h/4 .
This makes it possible for particles to be created for short periods of time where their creation would normally violate conservation laws of energy. These particles are called ‘virtual particles'. For example, in a complete vacuum  -which no ‘real’ particle's exist, as pairs of virtual electrons and positron are continuously forming and rapidly disappearing ( in less than 10-23 seconds ). Other conservation laws such as those applying to angular momentum, isospin, etc., cannot be violated even for short periods of time.
 Because its strength lies between strong and weak nuclear interactions, the exchanging electromagnetic interaction of particles decaying by electromagnetic interaction, do so with a lifetime shorter than those decaying by weak interaction, but longer than those decaying under the influence of strong interaction. For example, of electromagnetic decay is:
 0     +  .
This decay process, with a mean lifetime covering 8.4 x 10-17, may be understood as the annihilation of the quark and the antiquark, making up the  0, into a pair of photons. The quantum numbers having to be conserved in electromagnetic interactions are, angular momentum, charge, baryon number, Isospin quantum number I3, strangeness, charm, parity and charge conjugation parity are unduly influenced.