The Opposition and Resistance to

Review Essays on Paul H. Elovitz, The Making of Psychohistory: Origins, Controversies, and Pioneering Contributors (New York and London: Routledge, 2018), ISBN 978-1-138-58749-6, 138 pages, paperback, $38.95, hardbound, $140.

While Paul Elovitz’ The Making of Psychohistory: Origins, Controversies, and Pioneering Contributors delves into the strife and opposition this discipline has encountered for much of its lifetime, I still was left wondering, perhaps naively and simplistically, why? Having spent more than 40 years in journalism (chronicling and explaining our most recent history) and the last 20 also as a psychoanalyst, psychohistory seems to me a natural outgrowth of

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both fields.

My lingering confusion wasn’t due to Elovitz’ work—he tackles this issue throughout the book and also demonstrates as he describes his teaching methods why psychohistory should matter, why it should have won more acceptance and validation. He notes in his introduction that many people with scholarship in history, biography, or psychoanalysis shun and maybe even deplore the concept of psychohistory. As he points out, while “Thoughtful people do psychohistory whether or not they realize it” (1), many historians and biographers seem to want to focus their inquiries on behavior. As Elovitz notes, while they often consider the impact of family and life events on their subjects, these scholars don’t seem able to take that next step and consider the role psychodynamics play:

Regrettably, academic historians as a group reject the field of psychohistory for a variety of reasons, including their suspicion of the new, dislike of psychoanalysis, uneasiness with the unconscious and irrational forces in others and themselves, and fear that their knowledge of human motivation will be exposed as inadequate (1).

The resistance, as Elovitz notes, can also be the product of the political infighting that is often inseparable from academic life (123). Meanwhile, psychoanalysts, as Elovitz also points out, may shy away from analyzing someone who is dead, perhaps long dead (2). As we’ve seen from the recent revival of debate about the Goldwater Rule, which forbids psychiatrists (and some other mental health clinicians) from diagnosing someone who’s not in their care, there can also be a resistance to analyzing anyone from afar (there has been some erosion of the Goldwater Rule since Donald Trump campaigned for and was elected president). It is very interesting to me that analysts who have read Freud’s writings on Da Vinci and Moses could repudiate psychohistory rather than be at least slightly as curious as he was; however, my narcissism and prejudice may be at work here.

Yet there is clearly a need for psychohistory. When terrible, tragic things happen—people shooting dozens of innocent victims, celebrities committing suicide—the media can be counted on to create articles and videos that discuss why someone would commit such acts. The public reads and watches those pieces. You can be

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sure that historians, biographers, and analysts are reading and watching as well.

The day after a terrorist attack in France on Bastille Day in 2016, a sensitive young man born in South Korea implored me to explain why someone would commit such a horrible crime. He had no idea, at least consciously, that I was an analyst passionate about psychohistory. He just needed someone to help him understand the darkest part of the human heart and psyche.

There is also a great amount of scholarship beyond history, psychology, and psychoanalysis that uses psychohistorical methods, even if few scholars would want to admit it. Art historians pore over every inch of paintings and sculpture, looking at technique for clues to the mental states of Van Gogh, Cézanne, and others. Literature professors mine every word of prose and poetry to try to understand the psyche of an author—what unconscious as well as conscious memories influenced their work.

The opposition and resistance to psychohistory among people who are clearly curious and interested in learning reminds me of the same resistance people have to seeking therapy or analysis, as well as the resistance that analysts continually see in their patients. It is a resistance to knowing and often a resistance to change.

I think the answers to my questions go beyond Elovitz’ discussion of the scholarly and political opposition to psychohistory, although they can be deduced from his work. Elovitz understands that inquiry begins with children; his book includes a chapter on how childhood has evolved and what childhood is like today. Children, of course, are very curious and want to hear stories: “Tell me about the day I was born.” “How did you and Daddy meet?” “What was it like when you were little, Grandma?” I wonder if the increasing narcissism in our society, and each generation’s growing tendency to exist in what are now colloquially called silos, have made it harder for many people, including many historians, to care about what happens in someone else’s life or head, or to care about what happens to someone else.

Elovitz, who uses what he has learned as a psychohistorian to teach his students about the impact of war, seems to have seen increasing narcissism. He certainly has seen a lack of empathy. He notes that his students over the years had difficulty empathizing with more than one group that had been subjected to genocide.

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Elovitz successfully used psychohistory to show his students the links between humiliation and suffering to mass government-ordered murder; for example, the emotional consequences in Germany from the Treaty of Versailles that ultimately led to the Holocaust. The result: “Understanding these historical examples and the emotions behind them helps students to understand their own feelings and to approach the course with a greater sense of empathy” (67).

Elovitz also notes, “Students can be quite resistant to learning because it involves hard work and giving up established ideas” (69). Well, not just ideas, but also students’ acceptance of the need for empathy. Moreover, it’s not just students who are resistant, but the many scholars who reject the discipline we know as psychohistory.

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