Bion, W.R., Cogitations. Edited by Francesca Bion. London: Karnac Books (1992), pp. 226-41
[Undated]
Tower of Babel: possibility of using a racial myth
Can we, at such a crisis as this, fall back on a racial myth on the offchance that it is a tool that has not yet outlived its usefulness? Let us interpret, for our purposes, the story of the Tower of Babel. I propose to use this story in a manner analogous to the use to which a scientist might put an already existing formula of mathematics. The mathematical construction may have been invented without any intention that it should be used as the scientist proposes to use it, or indeed without any intention that it should be used at all. Yet the scientist, despite the mathematician’s avowal that his formula has no meaning at all, may decide that he has found a realization that is the counterpart of the mathematical formulation and will use the formulation accordingly. This I shall now do with the story of the Tower of Babel.
First, I decide that the story is formulated in Genesis, but I might as easily decide to write my own version. This story I do not interpret: I use it to interpret a problem of mine. When I say I might decide to write my own version, I do not mean that the basic elements of the story can be altered. Some transformation is necessary which is not an interpretation of the story, nor yet a sophistication. It is not an operation such as Freud proposes for the elucidation of a dream: it consists in a recognition first that the story is a social version of the phenomenon known to the individual as a dream – it even has some resemblance to the consciously sought selected fact; it is an emotional experience that has been subjected to α-function.
There must be many such myths that are not recognized at all, except in a pejorative sense in which some unlikely story, or one that the listener does not wish to believe, is dismissed as a ‘myth’. We cannot now say how they started, nor are we able to observe the process of myth-formation, if any, at work in our midst. If an individual, some anonymous genius, invented it, then we may suppose that the process is one marked by the following steps: the individual has an emotional experience; it is transformed by α; it is published. In almost every instance nothing further happens, for the emotional experience is of too particular a nature to be at all widely significant. It might then be regarded, by analogy with scientific method, as a hypothesis, not false in itself, but applying to events of such extremely rare occurrence as to make it pass unnoticed, in the way that a mathematical formulation (Poincaré, Science and Method) might be perfectly sound yet never be employed because no realization had yet been perceived to which it might be applied as the algebraic system corresponding to its representative scientific deductive system. This must be the case with virtually all so-called dreams; they express, thanks to α-function, the stored and communicable version of an emotional experience. To this extent the narrator of his dream has been able to render the experience communicable, and has even published it, but the emotional experience itself – and consequently its α-formulation – has small social value because of its extreme particularity.
But there are others that might be grouped on an ascending scale of generalization until we reach, through myths of national significance, those, such as the Oedipus myth or the story of the Tower of Babel, which are felt to be of so nearly universal significance that their publication spreads over wide areas of racial and national thought and is also repeated in time. The individual who is able to transform such an emotional experience, by virtue of his α-function, into material that can be stored, communicated and finally published must belong to the category we loosely call ‘genius’. But my point is that we must regard these stories (and later I shall consider actual historical events too) as being parallel with the algebraic calculus produced by the mathematician not simply to represent a specific already-existing s.d.s., but as a mathematical formulation that has not at the time, but may at some future date turn out to have, an actual realization to which it is applicable.
This being my view, I return to our chosen myth of the Tower of Babel. How are we to determine what the basic elements of the story are, without simply laying ourselves open to the charge of tampering with a text that, on my own showing, should be treated with respect? The theory of α-function may give us help. I suggest that we assume that the story is intended to deal with an emotional situation; further, that the visual images verbally conveyed have to be considered as α-elements. The narrative form we regard as being a method of imposing an appearance of coherence and integration on these elements whose coming together might otherwise demand explanation. The narrative, like the words ‘as if’, etc. – which Freud thought could not be expressed in dream language – seems to be a method of expressing the emotion that has to be stored. I propose we ignore, for the time being, the narrative and other forms of conjunction, except for one very important point: these elements unequivocally mean that the α-elements, the visual images, are constantly conjoined. The function of the narrative form is to enable the individual and the race to observe and to maintain this constant conjunction.
This brings me to the application of our myth to the problem that it is to interpret. The scientist must know enough mathematics to understand the nature and use of various mathematical discoveries and formulations, such as the differential calculus or the binomial theorem: the psycho-analyst must know his myth. The scientist must also know enough to have an idea when he is confronting a problem to which a particular mathematical procedure would apply: the psycho-analyst must know when he is facing a problem to which a myth would provide the psycho-analytic counterpart of the algebraic calculus. This, one might say, is precisely what Freud did; he recognized, as a scientist, that he was confronted by a problem to the solution of which he would have to apply the Oedipus myth. The result was the discovery, not of the Oedipus complex, but of psycho-analysis. (Or is it man, or man’s psyche, that is discovered when these elements are constantly conjoined?) It is in this sense that I believe that the myth of Babel, or Oedipus, or Sphinx must be used as a tool comparable to that of the mathematical formulation. Before proceeding further with the investigation of the myth as a tool for investigating emotional problems, I must point out that already this inquiry has reached a point that has implications for the use of dreams. I have said that most dreams are of very low-level generalization, but this fact, which is a disadvantage if the matter at issue is the mental life of the group in space and time, is an advantage when the issue is something so idiosyncratic as the mental life of a particular individual patient in analysis.
The dream of the individual must be taken to mean that certain α-elements are constantly conjoined. The α-elements in themselves, and their constant conjunction as shown by the dream, must be regarded as of equal significance. The α-function has then served the purpose of making storable, communicable and publishable an emotional experience that is constantly conjoined and has made it possible to record the latter fact. How does this relate the ordinary, apparently non-recurrent dream to the recurrent dream? If myth and manifest content of a dream are to be regarded as the group and individual versions of the same thing – and that thing an assertion that certain α-elements are constantly conjoined – to what use are we to put this statement? If we are to regard it as analogous to (a + b)2 = a2 + b2 + 2ab, then presumably we need to know how the statement has been constructed and what the rules are that have to be obeyed if we are to use the statement correctly. At first sight the mathematicians appear able to do this; we can say something about the way these letters, a and b, are being used, and we can explain the rules by which their manipulation is to be guided. We can also show that certain problems can be solved if we recognize that the elements of the problem can be adequately represented by this algebraical formula. Furthermore, we can be taught how to recognize that a given problem would be aided by this particular formula rather than another, and we can pass on that information. There is, nevertheless, a gap: some individuals are more easily able to understand the explanations and to grasp when and how such a formula can be applied to advantage than others who are thought of as being mathematically ill-equipped. It is not only the mathematically ill-equipped who have difficulty in accepting the mathematical explanation of fundamentals of procedure, as mathematicians and philosophers show by their discussions of these problems, which are inseparably bound up with the nature of mathematical ability itself. But nevertheless there is no doubt that mathematicians have formed a method of recording and communicating their formulations which makes teaching of the formulations and their use assume an enviably uniform and stable discipline – at least to me who proposes that myth and dream should be regarded as corresponding to algebraic calculi and therefore as capable of yielding, after scrutiny, the tools that can interpret, through their suitability to represent a problem, the problem itself, and so open the way to its solution.
I propose now the task of establishing the fundamental rules for the use of dream or myth. The first point is that all dreams have one interpretation and only one – namely, that α-elements are constantly conjoined. The second is that every dream has a corresponding realization, which it therefore represents. This realization may be of such insignificance or rarity that it is never observed to occur, although potentially it might do so. Sometimes it is observed, and its resemblance to the dream that represents it is so nearly conscious that the dreamer has an illusion that he expresses by saying he had a dream that came true. This usually means that the dreamer believes the facts of the realization were correctly foreshadowed in a dream in which the same or similar facts occurred in a similar narrative. This is an illusion in which the similarity that exists between an emotional experience (as it is recorded and stored through the agency of α-function) and an event (to the understanding of which the stored emotional experience is essential) has been transferred to what are believed to be two narratives. In fact, one narrative serves to mark the conjunction of α-elements required to store two different but related emotional experiences: one, that which was experienced in sleep or the waking state known in déjà vu phenomena; the other, that which was experienced in the course of actual events in the individual’s life. Since the same dream would serve as the product of α-function operating on the two emotional experiences, it is believed that the supposed events of the narrative of the dream, and the events of the emotional experience to which the dream serves a function analogous to that of algebraic calculus to empirical data, are the same. The third point is that certain factual experiences will never be understood by the patient, and therefore will never be experiences from which he can learn, unless he can interpret them in the light of his dream or the myth in which the group has enshrined both the dream and the belief in the dream’s validity for all members of the group. In psychoanalytic practice this means that what the analyst has to interpret are certain facts that befall the patient in the light of a dream that has stated that for the patient certain α-elements are constantly conjoined. Thus, if the patient reports a dream that he was seated in a railway train and gave the signal usually given to indicate an intention to stop when driving a car, and that his arm fell off, it must be assumed that certain elements are conjoined.
The following are a few of the points known to me that are relevant to understanding what the elements are that are conjoined: the patient was not responsible for driving the train; he wanted to be helpful and warn the traffic against a possible accident due to ignorance of the train’s movements; this, from his point of view, worthy behaviour did not meet with success because his arm behaved as if it were having a tantrum and fell onto the grass, where it lay unhelpfully. The patient was bewildered that such unexceptionable behaviour should provoke such a hostile response and that he should find himself vulnerable to criticism because of the behaviour of his arm which apparently was quite independent of him. The dream indicated that for this person any attempt to be cooperative or creative led to independent action by the appropriate part of his personality, that is, to thwart his creative and helpful intentions. The helpful intention was in itself good because it meant that the patient was in an agreeable and therefore rewarding state of mind. It is this rewarding state of mind that is denied to him by the independent action of his arm. This potentially pleasing state of mind is further attacked because disapproval was drawn to him from the remaining passengers by the behaviour of his arm. These were the most obtrusive elements.
At first sight it may seem that this is an interpretation, though a superficial one, of the dream. I would make a distinction between two kinds of interpretation by calling one the ‘meaning’ of a dream or any other kind of association, and the other the ‘interpretation’. I consider the ‘meaning’ to be that aspect of the communication which, if it were made extra-analytically, is what the speaker consciously wishes to convey. Failure to interpret the dream is the most potent contribution the analyst can make towards producing acting out; failure to dream through lack of α-function is the patient’s main contribution. But before a dream or association can be interpreted, its meaning must be established. Though it is fairly easy to say that the meaning of an association is that part of a communication that the patient consciously wishes to make, it is not easy to say what part of a dream is the communication that the patient consciously wishes to make. For, assuming the theory of α-function is applicable, the manifest content of the dream is a verbal expression of visual images that have been joined together because, being joined together, they record that certain elements of an emotional experience are constantly conjoined and, by recording it, make it available for unconscious waking thought (as in the example of the establishment of walking as a skill that can be exercised without further intervention by consciousness) or for conscious waking thought, as when the individual repeats the dream to himself or someone else, thereby making it accessible to the correlations that are the basis of the rationality of common sense, and to the criteria of common sense that are the establishment of correlations without evidence of contradictions. From this it follows that the publication of the dream is a request for knowledge often overtly posed as such in the form of a wish to be told what the dream ‘means’ or predicts. At first sight this would seem to be a reasonable request to make of an analyst. In fact it is not reasonable to make it, nor is it reasonable for an analyst to feel called upon to say what a dream means. The problem is not the dream but the emotional experience of which the dream is the irrational counterpart of the algebraic calculus. And about this emotional experience the patient feels much as an infant might feel about bumping its head on the floor – it wants to know what it means. An emotional experience, then, is in some respects like a physical experience in that it can be felt to have a meaning; that is to say, it is felt to be an experience from which something can be learnt. The α-function is the first step (without which nothing can be learnt) in turning the emotional experience, or rather data associated with it, into material from which it is possible to learn; that is, material suitable for dream-thoughts (Freud’s unconscious waking thoughts) or for correlation with common sense, which implies not only conscious waking thought, but also awareness of individual attitudes and outlook, which are a part of the individual’s endowment and equipment as a member of a group. This brings me to the essential feature in the conscious communication of the individual reporting a dream: it is an overt expression of curiosity. It is exposure for test by common sense of a hypothesis, as Hume would understand such a term, namely as an assertion that certain associations are constantly conjoined. As an expression of curiosity we may regard it as suitable for investigation by the application of myth, using myth as the counterpart of an algebraic calculus.
We have now arrived at this position: the core of the dream is not the manifest content, but the emotional experience; the sense data pertaining to this emotional experience are worked on by α-function, so that they are transformed into material suitable for unconscious waking thought, the dream-thoughts, and equally suitable for conscious submission to common sense. Freud clearly thought that this material was equally suitable for more than correlation with and by common sense, and attempted to apply to it the methods of scientific investigation, as if what I am calling α-elements lent themselves to that kind of procedure. This is to assume that the α-elements can be used for purposes other than simple correlation – one of the most rudimentary of scientific procedures. The manifest content, as it would be called if we were discussing dreams in Freud’s terms, is a statement that these α-elements are constantly conjoined; that being so, it is in every way analogous to the selected fact, the function of which is to display the constant conjunction of elements characteristic of the paranoid-schizoid position, and some of which it has the property of showing to be related. We shall have to consider later how the manifest content of a dream (a narrativized collection of visual images) and a mathematical formulation such as an algebraic calculus can come to be fulfilling an apparently identical function when they are in every other respect so different from each other. For the moment I must point out only that the hypothesis, the word regarded as a hypothesis, and the manifest content of a dream all share the characteristics of the selected fact in being able to bring coherence to facts previously known but not previously seen to be connected. Since the core of the problem that awaits solution is an emotional experience, we must make a distinction between this and the emotional experience that is secondary to a problem that awaits solution. We have hitherto supposed that every problem, of whatever kind, is, when reduced to its abstract basic elements, the task of finding the selected fact that harmonizes elements previously known by showing them as related to each other in a way that was not apparent before the discovery of the selected fact. I have shown that this is a description that is so close to the description in Kleinian theory of the interplay between paranoid-schizoid and depressive positions that speculation must be aroused about the nature of this description, which, as a hypothesis itself, is an example of a selected fact, and about the nature of the phenomenon to which it applies. Are there in fact elements? And if, thanks to some selected fact, they are seen to be related to each other in a particular way, does this mean any more than that – the human mind being what it is – the individual from time to time has this experience of observing the harmonious inter-relatedness of these elements, whereas in fact there is no reason to suppose that any such relatedness exists? Elements and relatedness alike are aberrations of the observing instrument.
Suppose that this last is the fact: then we would be in the position of being able to observe that our observations consist of elements that we believe to become synthesized by some mental event which corresponds with a fact. But this statement is a supposition based on a supposition. It is evident that, no matter how I attempt to state this problem, we are involved in an absurdity. This I believe to be a peculiarity related to those problems in which the emotional experience is primary. It is for this reason that I say a distinction has to be made between the experience that consists in attempting to understand an emotional experience that is secondary to the attempt to solve a problem, and the experience that consists in trying to solve a problem in which the emotional experience itself is the problem. In the first, it is possible to regard the problem as one of unrelated objects requiring synthesis; in the second, there is probably no way of regarding the problem ‘as’ anything at all. It is possible that there are external problems of which it is true to say that there is no way of regarding them ‘as’ anything at all; it may be that it is from precisely such a situation and its accompanying emotions that the selected fact extricates the observer by appearing to reveal the relatedness of some of the elements. In short, there are situations that are felt to be problems that either have no solution, or to which no solution can be found with the equipment at the disposal of the individual experiencing them. Such situations are not absolute: they may be fairly common and of short duration, but such an experience, if it lasts, itself becomes a problem that makes demands on the individual’s equipment of intelligence and personality.
The essentials of this situation depend, as far as the individual is concerned, on his appreciation of the environment (that is on what he thinks are the facts of his environment) and on his appreciation of himself (that is on what he thinks are the facts of his personality). As far as the external observer, the analyst, is concerned, the situation may be regarded as limited to the following elements:
(1) the environment,
(2) the personality of the individual,
(3) the relationship between (1) and (2),
(4) the belief that the individual himself entertains about (1) and (2).
Even if we restrict the field in this way, and even supposing years of psycho-analysis, we know little about all four. The difficulty is increased because comparison is not possible; terms such as ‘little’ seem to say something, but under scrutiny appear to be expressions of feeling and not statements of fact. Even so, the problem has been simplified in some of its aspects by the introduction of the external observer, the analyst. For it is legitimate to believe that by transferring the problem of the relationship between an individual and his emotional state to an external observer, we at least make the investigation approximate to the situation that obtains in scientific investigations of objects by trained observers. This raises two questions.
First, in what respects has the problem been simplified? In view of my discussion of the possibility that the belief that a scientific discovery has been made is really an expression of feelings that are a product of the transitions between paranoid-schizoid and depressive positions and back again, it would seem likely that the problem has not been simplified so much as altered in kind. Even in a discipline such as physics, in which scientific method has been rigorously pursued with apparently gratifying results, it is clear that there is no justification for any assumption other than that the facts discovered are simply a selection from the sum of knowledge of those facts, or characteristics of facts that lend themselves to comprehension by human mathematical and logical faculty, human perception, human tool-making capacity, human capacity for interpretation of the behaviour of the tools employed; they also lend themselves to adequate representation by the constructs which α-function contrives from the sense impressions supposedly related to these external objects.
The second question raises the doubt about simplification to a higher pitch still. In psycho-analysis the observer is not an external force, except in the sense of not being the analysand, because he is an important part of the environment. What is being investigated, as the physicists also have discovered, is not an object in vacuo but a relationship between the object and its environment. (As also in mathematics – see Semple and Kneebone, Algebraic Projective Geometry, p. 3). The alternatives may be set out in a formula:
Suppose A to be the person concerned with his own emotional experience, a,
and B to be the psycho-analyst,
and C the environment less A and B.
Then
(1) self consciousness would be: A knows a + B + C,
(2) analysis would be: B knows A + C.
But (1) can be seen to be complicated by the fact that A may not recognize that a appertains to himself and not to his environment.
This setting out of the problem shows that analysts have not really decided if what needs to be investigated is a, or A + B + C, or A + a. Let us assume that this is not a material point and that all combinations, until it is proved to the contrary, need to be known. Let us further assume that in psycho-analysis, what A needs to know is, A knows a + B + C; to know that would be to know all that needs to be known of other combinations.
Let us fall back on the idea that, to make progress in this investigation, what is needed as our tool is not an algebraic calculus but a myth. The myth, or myths, we require must serve to elucidate the problem of learning, and must elucidate this problem when it is associated with investigating or learning about an emotional experience that is felt to be primary and not secondary to some other investigation. Since I know virtually nothing about this subject beyond the tentative suggestions I have been making, I shall not be disturbed by the fact that the choice of myth I make would not be the choice someone else might make. As I know no rules, I do not have to obey any, but will make up some as I go along, thus following the precedent of the King in Alice in Wonderland.
My first rule is to make any rule I please. The myths I choose to elucidate the problem of learning are: (1) Adam, eating of the fruit of the Tree, is thus opposed to God’s will, learns from it sexual guilt, and is expelled from the Garden (= Paradise). (2) The Sphinx stimulates curiosity; hubristic vow to be ruthless in its satisfaction at no matter what cost-suicide, incest and death are the rewards of success, and pestilence for failure. (3) A co-operation to build a tower up to Heaven is punished by God who destroys the method of verbal communication that made co-operation possible. (4) The youth who seeks a mirror in which to observe his beauty is punished by God. This last choice is made in the hope that it will serve to elucidate problems of curiosity and learning associated with the personality of the investigator himself-his need to find a mirror, that is to say a tool, which will help him to satisfy his curiosity, his loving curiosity, about himself. The curiosity, one might say, is not disinterested. (The lack of integrity vitiates it if one is expecting scientific curiosity.) The punishment seems peculiar.
Perhaps the way to use a myth is to associate to it; this may be the analytical counterpart of the algebraic calculus that is used for a specific task when its variables are given values. Free association to a myth is the equivalent of giving the elements a value as if they were variables in a formula. The values are those that are relevant to a particular problem, and the particular problem is the personality of the person who produces the free associations. By attributing these values to the variables of the myth we understand that those qualities are, for that person, constantly conjoined. So far, so good. But what does this mean in practice? Does one ask the patient for free associations on the Oedipus myth? Or on Narcissus? This certainly does not appeal to me. Rather, I would say that, listening to the free associations, one would think something like this: the patient is wanting me to agree with him; it is obvious from the way he is putting forward a suggestion that he has a beautiful personality. It appears to me that it is a morally beautiful personality; my personality is likewise beautiful; in fact I am to be a mirror of his excellence. But there is more of this story, the myth of Narcissus: there is a god who turns him into a flower. What is the patient saying that corresponds to this? There must be something because my myth tells me that these elements are constantly conjoined; or perhaps this is not the right myth. Either it is the right myth, and I have so far failed to see this aspect of it as it has appeared, or I am mistaken in thinking this is the myth to be employed. Perhaps I should seek for a more appropriate one – the Oedipus myth, for example.
I can see objections. It will be argued that no analyst could possibly have such a store of myths available in his psycho-analytic armoury as this procedure would seem to desiderate. It may further be objected that there is no reason why an analyst should store myths rather than theories; surely the analyst should be asking himself, as his patient talks, what is the appropriate psycho-analytic theory – not what or which of all the myriad myths ought to be dragged in as appropriate.
Psycho-analytic theories, as propounded by the best analysts, have served the cause of scientific development well, but Freud owed more of his discoveries to his use – the unconscious method of his use – of the Oedipus myth than to other more easily recognizable aspects of his scientific method. The real nature of psycho-analytic methodology has never been properly assessed; there is a danger that the successes of the movement will be attributed to the ability of its students to apply conventional scientific method, and not always the best examples of it, rather than to the intuitive flair that made it possible for Freud at least to do more. One consequence is a tendency for the movement to proliferate jargon – a danger that besets even mathematics, although there it is disguised somewhat through appearing as correct axiomatic formulation that is inadequately appreciated because it is no longer seen in relationship with a more concrete background. There are times when psycho-analytic theory is so propounded that it is made to sound, as a bad teacher of his subject makes mathematics sound, as if it were ‘an ingenious manipulation of symbols in accordance with certain arbitrarily prescribed rules’ (Semple and Kneebone, Algebraic Projective Geometry, p. 1). An appreciation of the importance of the use of myth in scientific method is necessary for further progress, or to arrest a process of retreat from positions already won, because it helps to keep the concrete background of psycho-analytic theory in view. If this is the case, is it not analogous to the low-level hypotheses of empirically verifiable data, rather than to algebraic calculi? And if so, should not the concrete background be provided by psycho-analytic practice rather than myth, which seems in danger of being a substitute for a concrete background rather than the concrete background? This objection could be valid if indeed a study of myth is to be used in the study of the individual, not instead of it. That is to say, the analyst should have at his disposal certain myths, as the scientist has certain mathematical procedures; he should frequently produce his free associations to them so that he is familiar with them and their use; and he should then learn to detect from his patient’s material which is the appropriate myth, and from that what is the appropriate interpretation. Free associating to his chosen myths would then become the analyst’s form of practising his craft so as to remain in training for his work. The choice of myth that he would use for the purpose would be an indication of his scientific affiliation.
Suppose an analyst did not include in his canon the Oedipus myth: it would be an indication for considering to what extent he was able to regard other psycho-analysts and himself as embracing the same discipline and therefore able to communicate with each other profitably. But this, though important, is relatively not so important as the part that association on chosen myth, and selection of the myths on which to associate, plays in the promotion of psycho-analytic intuition and, more precisely, in the repair and reinvigoration of the analyst’s α-function. Perhaps for the first time my suggestion makes it possible to give a practising analyst precise advice, and even instruction, on how to keep in training. He should not bother so much with attempts to keep notes about patients but to take, say, the Oedipus myth, and write his free associations on it, noting the date. This he can repeat as often as he likes – the free associations will never be the same for different dates. If, amongst his associations, a patient’s name appears, that name can be indexed if he feels he needs notes on his patients. This procedure can be repeated, five days a week, for the same myth or for such other myths as he feels disposed to include in his canon; and he can discard and return to any given myth as often as he chooses. It would be as well to use a version, or versions, of the myth for whose historicity there is scholarly evidence, as, other things being equal, it seems that a version that has withstood the passage of centuries is probably more likely to have powerful appeal to the human mind than one that may be an ephemeral aberration and therefore of too great particularity.
This procedure promotes analytic intuition in the following way: suppose the Oedipus myth is the chosen exercise; it will not be chosen unless it has some immediate relevance for the analyst, and its relevance must be that the analyst has an emotional experience that is either repeating, or threatening to repeat, itself. Even this will not explain the choice of myth, but the analyst can draw his own conclusions on that matter at his convenience. The point is that his free associations should show him what the features are, in his present situation, which are interpreted and given a meaning by the myth on which he has chosen to associate. It will again be observed that this course of action differs from the accepted view of analysis. It is not using conscious material to interpret the unconscious; it is using the unconscious to interpret a conscious state of mind associated with facts of which the analyst is aware. The interpretation of the dream will give meaning to the known facts and feelings of the analyst’s life, just as scrutiny of an ordnance survey map can give meaning to natural features clearly visible to the traveller and bring him to a realization of the point that he has reached on his journey. The myth embodies the constants and variables valid for any period of life: the free associations ascribe the immediately current values to the variables, and the scrutiny of the material reveals the problem, which is the step essential to its solution, if any.
Now let us apply the Babel myth to destruction of the α-function. One point that immediately obtrudes is the hostility of the Deity to the aspirations of men who wish to build a city and a tower to reach to Heaven, and to make a name for themselves to prevent their being scattered [Genesis XI 1-9]. The people are making bricks and slime, which are then to be put together to make the tower to reach Heaven. It seems like an artificial breast-penis. And what of the name to prevent scattering? The word as a hypothesis which brings the scattered objects together and keeps them so? It is the God who is opposed to the hypothesis, the word (as hypothesis), and it seems as if the people who have come together are to be scattered; the hypothesis or selected fact is to be destroyed, the fragments scattered upon the face of all the earth. This is an attack on an attempt to reach Heaven: it is an attack on linking – the language that makes co-operation possible.