Psychosocial research is underpinned by the psychoanalytic concept of the unconscious. Freud proposed the concept to refer to ‘mental processes of which the subject is not aware’ (Rycroft, 1995: 191) and as something ‘other than conscious, rational thought’ (Frosh, 2012: 45). Freud conceptualised the contents of the unconscious as forbidden or intolerable ideas (often related to repressed instinctual urges, sexuality) which, through the operation of various defence mechanisms, were denied conscious expression. At the same time as these ‘repressed contents’ (La Planche and Pontalis 2006: 474) are pushed out of awareness they are also ‘pushing for expression’ (Frosh, 2012: 45). The result of this process is the expression of unconscious wishes and impulses in a modified form, for instance, as symptoms, compulsions or as ‘slips of the tongue’.
Defining the nature of the unconscious is critical for the psychosocial researcher. This version of psychoanalytic theory is incompatible with the constructionist paradigm since it posits a reality existing beyond or underneath the social. An ‘objectivist’ conceptualisation of the
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unconscious has implications for the legitimacy of findings and has ethical implications for research. As Price and Cooper (2012: 57) suggest, there is a central methodological problem in ‘attributing unconscious states and states of mind’ to others, creating a ‘a central difficulty in confirming or disconfirming the validity of what has been observed’. This is a distinct difficulty for psychosocial researchers such as Hollway and Jefferson (2011) whose work draws on a Kleinian notion of the unconscious, which although advancing a social view of the unconscious, tends to view it as a ‘container full of contents’ (Mitchell, 1986: 24) which are expelled or enacted onto others. The data analysis process for Hollway and Jefferson (2011) involves a ‘tracing back’ towards hidden, and somewhat mysterious, unconscious processes within the research participant. This approach is subject to a criticism commonly levelled at psychodynamic theory – that is, that the psychoanalyst and by extension, the researcher, appear in the guise of ‘expert’, able to decipher the ‘real’ meaning of the participant’s narratives (Parker, 1997). This has led to criticism from Wetherell (2005: 169) that Hollway and Jefferson’s research puts ‘words’ in the ‘mouths’ of research participants.
However, within the psychosocial field there is another conceptualisation of the unconscious expressed by writers such as Frosh (2003) and Billig (1997) which draws on language-focused psychoanalytic theory, as well as the importance of the ‘social’. It is this constructionist conceptualisation that I draw on. Three key principles of this conceptualisation can be distilled: Repression is a discursive process, effected through the exclusion of socially
unacceptable narratives
The unconscious is reflected in absences in dialogue
What is unacceptable, unthinkable or prohibited can be regarded as historically- specific and socially-generated
For proponents of this approach (e.g. Frosh, 2003) the self is not conceived as a discrete entity through which the external world is interpreted (traditional Freud) nor is the unconscious conceived as a ‘vessel’ below consciousness consisting of split off wishes, impulses or instinctual drives (Klein). Reflected in the absence of the hyphen, Frosh and Baraitser’s (2008) notion of the ‘psychosocial’ attempts to circumvent some of the theoretical difficulties involved in a ‘depth’ view of the unconscious. The psychosocial is instead conceived as ‘intertwined entity’ (Frosh, 2003: 1547) ‘with the idea that what is taken to be ‘internal’ to the subject is premised on, and in constant tension with, what is outside or ‘other’ (Frosh, 2003: 1554). Given this constructionist rendering of the subject, the unconscious is resituated within the social world, but further than this, is itself regarded as a product of the social, specifically constructed as a result of talk.
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Billig (1997) combines discursive and psychoanalytic theory in his concept of the ‘dialogic unconscious.’ Billig’s (1997: 139) central thesis is that ‘processes of repression can be studied discursively’ and that ‘repression is itself a dialogic, or discursive, process’. The process of repression is accomplished through the omissions of certain elements in discourse, reflected in changes of topic, avoiding the use of certain words etc. Thus as Saville-Young and Frosh suggest (2010: 514) ‘conversational devices have repressive functions’. Repression is therefore conceived:
Not as a universally static process, but something which is part of ideological and socio- historical currents… codes of politeness differ culturally and historically … so do the topics on which people are expected to converse and remain silent. (Billing, 1997:152) What is unacceptable, unthinkable or prohibited can be regarded as historically and socially- specific (rather than universal). The construction of narrative is likely to exclude those potential elements which are unacceptable to the speaker, their intended audience and wider organisational or societal context. As Wetherell (2012: 135) suggests, repression conceived in this way is therefore ‘social psychological in the fullest sense… infused with culturally- specific techniques for self-regulation as distinct from the private machine Freud proposed’. Our anxieties, concerns and what is ‘forbidden’ or ‘off limits’ are the product of the socio- historical context in which we find ourselves.
Relevance to the research questions
While social workers’ personal biographies and early experiences may well be important in understanding the ways they defend themselves against anxiety, it is also important to consider the specific social context in which they are using and/or needing to manage their emotions (i.e. as a professional in the home of a client) within a particular team/organisation and in a specific historical and social context in relation to child protection work. Considering what is acceptable within these specific contexts (and how social workers’ narratives might be shaped by them) avoids some of the ethical and logical difficulties involved in positing hidden individual unconscious processes within the research participant.
The notion of repression as effected through language also appealed as a result of my practice experiences. The use of the term ‘challenging’ or ‘chaotic’ appeared to be an acceptable way for social workers to describe a family who evoked strong feelings of frustration or helplessness. Similarly, the use of the term ‘resistant’ often acted as a way to describe families in relation to whom workers felt rejected or angry. I wondered whether professional language
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and jargon served a repressive function, perhaps as a way to manage anxieties relating to the work.