CHAPTER SEVEN

The evaluation of psychoanalytical texts
and the imaginary scenario
in which their writing takes place:
observations of an editor

Francesco Barale

Since the editor's point of view is rather different from that of the “readers”, I thought I, too, might have a say in the matter of the evaluation of the papers that are sent to the Rivista. In the Rivista, work is organized in such a way that the first task of the editor, when evaluating an article for publication, is to consider the opinions and comments of the two “readers” of the Board of Readers. These opinions are then reported and compared during the editorial meetings where the editor contributes his own impressions and appraisals.

In this way, the editor works on an “extended” text, composed of the original work under examination, as well as the opinions of those who have read it. The anonymous “readers” (together with the cohort of fantasies as to their identity) assume the role of narrators in this extended text. The editor knows, however, that his general evaluation is just another element contributing to the decision-making procedure; his point of view will be discussed with the second editor also working on the same text, with the entire editorial staff, in the course of regular meetings, and with the chief editor. Issues of political timeliness, which are always detestable and, indeed, detested but, alas, never completely avoidable, may also be taken into consideration.

The editor's function, in this itinerary of readings and evaluations, involves an intricate series of problems (not to mention fantasies, projections, conjectures, competitive opinions, forecasts etc.), on which it could prove interesting to reflect, if one had the time. The fact that the readers' opinions are anonymous gives the editor greater freedom to express his point of view, as it evolves from the readers' opinions via the complex network described above. Not that we must deceive ourselves that this opinion is “objective” or, naively, without prejudice, but at least it is not immediately burdened by institutional issues. When all is over, however, and judgement has been passed, I find it useful and interesting to know who the reader-characters I have worked with in my mind really correspond to, 1f for no other reason than to see whether I had guessed their identity. But it is not my intention to go into the dynamics of this process in the present chapter.

There is, however, a case that is really very interesting, given the problem we are addressing: that in which the opinions of the two readers concerning the value and/or suitability for publication of the work in question not only fail to coincide but indeed are in direct contrast. This occurrence is not at all rare; in fact, it is rather frequent, 1f not the norm. It may also happen that the contrast occurs not between the readers' opinions but between the conclusions reached by the two editors separately. The latter may give different interpretations or emphases to the divergences occurring in the readers' evaluations. For the sake of simplicity, let us restrict ourselves to reflecting on the case “diverging opinions of the readers”—surely a worthwhile endeavour. Indeed, this is not such a catastrophic situation, because if, on the one hand, it complicates the editor's task, on the other, it forces him to interact mentally with the conflicting points of view in a far more dynamic way. It prevents him from conforming to the readings already made (as would be easier, following their flow), and forces him to form an idea of his own (or at least a fantasy) concerning the reasons behind the disagreement. Something has obviously happened. To begin with, the minimal criteria for the oft-repeated and apparently fairly simple acceptance of a paper have not been attended to. These concern syntax and grammar, an acceptable logical basis for the views advanced, relevance to psychoanalysis, and a logical conceptual elaboration in full respect of differences of opinions, models, and styles. But these criteria, which are so easy to list, are, in fact, difficult to apply, as anyone with experience of editorial work knows. Indeed, it is enough to consider how many different opinions (which, in turn, involve questions of a more or less epistemological nature, of models, or quite simply of taste) can be expressed among us when we try to establish the necessary characteristics and ingredients within a psychoanalytical text, of acceptable if not convincing argumentation (for example, is purely “narrative” argumentation acceptable?). I am obviously not suggesting we find an impossible common code to eliminate these divergences, which are probably not only unavoidable but perhaps to a certain extent useful. In general, contrasts are useful when they occur in an atmosphere of exchange and reasonable, mutual tolerance. Of course, everyone would appreciate this, but it is seldom achieved. It goes without saying that nobody is the repository of official truth, and in any case the final evaluation of the article usually also benefits from the point of view of the editor (who, however, in the final analysis holds the minority opinion). For example, the author may be asked to modify the text slightly. It is not a question, therefore, of trying to achieve an impossible (and undesirable) homogeneity of evaluations. Rather, by taking all these facts into consideration, it is necessary to reflect on the way in which our evaluations develop and on their foundations.

The case described (contrasting opinions) lends itself, above all, to highlighting the importance of a problem: in the case of a psychoanalytical text, it is particularly difficult to extricate the evaluation concerning the formal correctness and scientific relevance of the “content” from the effect on the reader of other aspects and levels of the text. I am referring to those that exist in every kind of text (e.g. meta-textual, meta-communicative, illocutory, performative, pragmatic-affective, etc.). This can occur simply because the psychoanalyst is highly tuned to these very registers, where what is particularly relevant to psychoanalysis is expressed in its most direct manner. They are true indicators of the imaginary scenario in which writing takes place and of the emotions that play a part in it.

The problem concerns, above all, articles of “average” quality (the majority). In these cases, for example, the effect induced by the above characteristics of the text can be decisive.

I will give an example (radically modified, for reasons of discretion): a work of “average” quality, written in reasonable Italian, sufficiently clear and comprehensible, rich in clinical descriptions, received two contrasting opinions. The first reader, full of praise and favourable to publication, had appreciated its “originality”. The second, however, was decidedly negative. Both the editors, despite slight variations, concurred with the latter, and the work was rejected. On a second look at this text and at the appraisals it received, it appears obvious that, in terms of certain aspects (those corresponding to the minimal criteria for publication), the article is really neither better nor worse than many others that are accepted. But I have the impression, on reading it again, that some meta-communicative and meta-textual aspects played an important role in conditioning the different responses (which are directly reflected in the evaluations themselves). The meta-communicative aspect stands out right from the introduction, which sets the tone for all the metacommunication of the work. The introduction is (more or less): “I have decided to call a particular internal organization that I have identified ‘hyper Don Giovanni of the Ego ideal’, etc. …” (Unfortunately, in the necessity to disguise references to the work we lose some of the prosodic effects and the more “heroic coloritura” of the original introduction.)

We know that in every text that tells us something, even the most “scientific”, most “objective” or apparently most bureaucratic, there is always a meta-communicative aspect involving the author's self-representation and self-promotion.

This can be seen in certain textual devices (and, in the case of more “scientific” texts, paradoxically even in the textual devices that tend to indicate the absolute absence of subjectivity on the part of the narrator towards the “pure facts” narrated). There is a fable (with its relative plot), which is parallel and implicit with the fable (and its plot) of the official content and which, in many ways, consists in variations of a more or less constant nature: given the existence of a problem, or of a set of circumstances to be clarified (that is, an obstacle or a task), the hero—generally, though not necessarily, the narrator—overcornes them in a variety of ways. He shows us how he reaches his goal despite various difficulties, mistakes, uncertainties. If this is true for any text, even the most scientific, it is all the more so in the case of psychoanalytical works, where the narrator's subjectivity is immediately recognized as relevant.

But the ways of implicitly representing (that is, elaborating) this scenario, which runs parallel to the scientific one and which is obviously laden with emotional connotations of immediate psychoanalytical interest (there is Oedipus, of course, along with many other things), are extremely varied. In our case, with his introduction, our author is saying, more or less: “I am comparing myself directly with Freud; I have discovered a series of facts, hitherto unknown, or at least never mentioned before, but which I am now going to take it upon myself to name as a new, original agency. …” There is a strong evocation of the virtues and courage of the hero and of his task, which is immediately presented as arduous and original. All would be fine if what follows had not appeared to three readers out of four, perhaps a little irritated by the author's arrogance, as nothing more than a “casual” re-description of internal constellations “regarding which a solid body of psycho-analytical literature exists” as well as an equally well-established terminology (each psychoanalytic school and its variations) with which to describe them. Thus, the Promethean undertaking is brutally inverted into the rather scathing evaluation that the author has simply “discovered hot water”.

Yet, I have the impression that the negative opinions the paper in question received were not simply due to the faults officially denounced by the critical readers (lack of originality, little or confused consideration for the literature already in existence concerning the clinical phenomena described, etc.). Seldom does one come across works that are really original, and a casual attitude towards “what has already been written” could also be seen as a quality for the anti-academic spirit it displays. However, it is here, regarding the “tone” of the work, so to speak, that the evaluation, basically of an emotional and psychodynamic nature, is heavily negative. This evaluation obviously springs from the meta-communicative characteristics of the text itself. But I have the impression that even the first reader's positive appraisal is, at least in part, syntonlc with a similar order of meta-textual aspects. The implicit declaration of originality of the type: “I use my head when thinking about clinical phenomena and I follow my own ways of thinking, ignoring what has already been said” is reiterated by the author both by means of “original” lexical choices and by the very structure of his arguments. This ignores (in part) the customary models as well as the meta-psychological formulations already in existence and is reflected in the reader's attribution of “originality” (who possibly also approves the implicit choice of a free clinicaltheoretical language that invents each time the descriptive categories considered most suitable and evocative).

Another aspect of interest to us is the “constitution of the imaginary reader”, as it is called by some students of text analysis. Every text contains its imaginary reader, a figure to whom the author addresses himself and with whom he establishes a relationship (the characteristics of the imaginary reader rarely coincide with those of the actual reader). It is clear that this imaginary interlocutor, who is recognizable in specific textual devices, is of great importance from our point of view. This potential reader (composed largely of the author's projections) is a fundamental part of the writer's imaginary scenario. The style of the author's relationship with this fictitious character (that is, with his own internal imagos) varies within an almost infinite repertoire, as vast as the variety of individual styles.

However, there are some “characters” who may create a problem simply because they conflict with the aversions of the “real” reader (especially if, as in our case, under the obligation imposed by his official position, he cannot escape). Thus, the reader finds himself identified, more or less brusquely, with the imaginary reader. Just to give some personal examples (but the range taken from readers' evaluations could be much wider), I have some difficulties with enigmatic-oracular styles. These are the ones where the author's evaluation is allowed to peep through, here and there, in darting flickers and flashes, in a fleeting and erratic fashion, from sylvan depths of obscurity, like the Being of Heidegger, with the aim of instilling an attitude of ecstatic admiration and idealization (or fierce irritation of a more-or-less envious nature). Worse still, without doubt, are those authors (and they do exist) who establish with their imaginary reader a relationship of the kind “it is the voice of Science that is speaking to you …” and the tone becomes stern and lofty … the metaphors become heavy-going … and the poor reader-psychoanalyst-ignoramus is conceded a few drops of wisdom with a certain, possibly epistemological, condescension. Sometimes difficulties arise from certain seductive-friendly-captivating styles, typical of the “affectionate-good-fellow-no-body-could-say-a-bad-word-about”. Worse, though fortunately rare, are certain thundering-hyperbolic styles, as in the case of a colleague, esteemed and liked by all, who once, for some reason, got carried away and sent us some pages in which every second word was written with a capital letter.

I could continue with the anecdotes, and everyone would have his own. From this point of view, one could even attempt a psychoanalytical study of the function of the type of argumentation or even of the figures of classical rhetoric.

But the problem that concerns us directly, in more general terms, is this: the objects of our attention are these texts, these products, and not individuals, who have not asked us for an evaluation. The purpose is to encourage as many colleagues as possible to communicate their thoughts and publish. However, the minimal criteria, to a large extent formal, to which, by explicit agreement, evaluations of texts should adhere, in addition to being far from easy to agree on unanimously, are furthermore constantly contaminated by the effects on the reader induced by other levels of the text: these are laden with emotions and fantasies to which, as analysts, we cannot but attribute great relevance. We may also ask ourselves to what extent this is not legitimate as far as psychoanalytic texts are concerned, where meta-comunicative, pragmatic and emotional aspects (or, more simply, the “tones”) are really a very important part of the music.

It is clear that this opens the field to an extreme subjectivity of evaluations and to a confusion or overlapping of levels, and it gives rise to possibly insuperable problems. I am unable to find a clear answer to the question. But I think that a reflection on the mental paths we travel when evaluating could prove useful. It might help us to improve our understanding of the corrections (clearly formal ones) to ask for when necessary. (Obviously, we cannot do analysis or wild semantic analysis of texts and authors, nor can we intervene where personal aspects are concerned; nevertheless, many of the corrections requested are, in fact, often an attempt, conscious or otherwise, to modify metacommunlcatlve or meta-textual aspects.)

I repeat, this problem arises, above all, with papers that, from the formal point of view, would be described as “average” (in the evaluation of which the effect of the above aspects is more important). At the two extremes (excellent work or careless or shoddy work), the problem poses itself differently: I have found myself reluctantly having to propose works for publication that from a formal point of view were faultless and excellently constructed but which I found intolerable for various reasons. On the other hand, unwillingly, I have recommended that works full of stimulating aspects and of the beginnings of original but insufficiently developed thoughts be returned to the author for radical changes.

Finally, I would briefly like to say something about the influence that different theoretical positions and schools of thought have on the evaluations. They are certainly important but, again, heavily conditioned by meta-communicative and metatextual effects.

Indeed, for the sake of clarity I would say that I have never come across cases in which a below-average work has been praised simply because certain aspects “fall” within fields of particular interest to a reader (or an editor). Conversely, I have never met with cases in which a formally excellent work, with clear objectives, clear arguments, and a clear argumentative structure to sustain them, has received a decidedly negative opinion Just because its thesis is in contrast to the theoretical idiosyncrasies of one of the readers. In general, there is tolerance and, at times, genuine curiosity towards different points of view. On the other hand, a critical spirit does not disappear before “family” theses.

Here, too, the problem arises in the case of “average” works. This does not so much concern the opinions expressed or declared (by the author or the reader) but, rather, a level of “secondary importance”, so to speak, which once again involves meta-communicatlon and meta-text. Indeed, mainly involved are some of the less evident aspects of the meta-text. Of course, each of us is particularly sensitive to the shibboleth he prefers, and perhaps tends to identify it tout court with the shibboleth of psychoanalysis; but, in fact, we are all aware by now that there are many sub-systems of shibboleth that serve to identify different models, theories, groups, and sub-groups … And we are well aware, too, that every psychoanalytic text that is sent to us, beknown or not to its author, contains, at one and the same time, a meta-text of shibboleth, a set of pointers that serve to indicate implicitly that the author adheres to and shares a particular psychoanalytic sub-language as well as a particular field of thought and so on. [The term Shibboleth, a biblical password that permitted recognition not through its content but through the particular accent with which it was pronounced, is used by Freud (in the context of what makes a psychoanalyst immediately recognizable to a non-psychoanalyst) in two passages (1905e [1901], p. 226 fn.;¹ 1911c [1910], p. 7).]

“And the Gileadites took the passages of Jordan before the Ephraimites: and it was so, that when those Ephraimites which were escaped said, Let me go over; that the men of Gilead said unto him, Art thou an Ephraimite? If he said, Nay; Then said they unto him, say now Shibboleth (ear of wheat, or stream): and he said Sibboleth: for he could not frame to pronounce it right. Then they took him and slew him at the passages of Jordan” [Judges, 12, 5–6]²

But this set of pointers, running parallel to the explicit text, is, in turn, composed of various planes. There is a more open and fairly explicit plane (quotations, theoretical references, supported theses, terminological preference, etc.). This level generally creates no problems: we have all become accustomed by now to practising and above all declaring tolerance, with varying degrees of difficulty, of the many psychoanalytic dialects, and we have officially given up hope for a perfect or universal psychoanalytic language. Yet there are other meta-textual planes that function as pointers of “belonging” in a more implicit manner, and these are the ones most often responsible for the differing reactions of the reader. I could quote many examples: the very way in which the author chooses to organize the paper, both formally and in its argumentative structures, may, as I have already mentioned, fulfil this role. This is exemplified by the use of clinical-narrative registers or, vice versa, theoretical-meta-psychological registers, or by the various articulations (if present) of these registers … and so on, up to the very syntactic and lexical structure. This may apply even more subtly, such as in the use or not of mitigators that may or may not suggest an “unsaturated” discourse or the use of modal pointers that incline one towards a “referential” pole rather than a “constructivenarrative” pole, the “lightness” or “heaviness” of the metaphoric system adopted, the quality and the quantity of explicit presences of the enunciative “I” … as well as all the other indicators of “attachment” or of the narrator's pre-eminence in describing the “facts” … and so on.

Indeed, there are even texts in which meta-communicative and meta-textual aspects predominate to the extent that they seem to represent the real purpose of the paper. In these cases, the text itself is a kind of pretext (forgive the pun) for the metacommunicative and meta-textual aspects. What appears to be of prime importance to the author, in these not at all infrequent cases, is not so much the wish to communicate something he considers new or at least important or to share an experience he has had, as to indicate by means of a series of shibboleths that he belongs to a community or a sub-community and wishes to be accepted and recognized as belonging to it by reaffirming its conceptual and linguistic usages and customs and exalting its strengths. In this case, the production of a scientific work tends to resemble its ritual and self-promotional aspects (which, we must remember, are always present to a certain degree). I believe that a great deal of tolerance is due here. Furthermore, as psychoanalysts, we are well aware of the value and function that repetition has in the consolidation of identity.

From this point of view, there are some extremely seductive pieces of writing in which the meta-textual efficacy, in the above-mentioned sense, is at its highest. Yet if, on the one hand, to the reader already familiar with the subject, they may appear wonderful works, to the reader who is uninitiated or even hostile to the system of shibboleth itself they can seem intolerable and empty.

Moreover, there is a delicate equilibrium between these different communicative and meta-communicative aspects at various levels of the text. The effect of the particular mixture that each work contains is very subjective. For example, I am irritated both by texts that are excessively saturated by statements in which the author underscores the political line-up to which he belongs, castellated by banners and standards (lexical, syntactic, textual, meta-textual …) and by chameleonic texts in which there is an indiscriminate use of different systems of shibboleth so as “not to be recognized”. Then there are various combinations that sometimes produce jarring effects and where the various meta-textual and meta-communicative levels appear out of tune or even in open discord with one another. Here, again, the repertoire of cases could be lengthy. But I do not want to be long-winded, since my intent was simply to state the problem. There is certainly no need for us to become students of rhetoric or text analysis.

The network of the various levels of phenomena with which a text surrounds us is a complex one. Perhaps it is a good idea to keep this in mind, even if we decide that for our evaluation only one level (perhaps the most superficial) is relevant. In any case, since we are talking of phenomena present to some degree in every text (including this one, of course), my hope is that these reflections give rise to a useful exercise in tolerance.

NOTES

1. The footnote on p. 226 was added in 1920.

2. Although the original German work (WSF, 11, 124) contained this passage from the Bible, it does not appear in the Standard Edition.