Psychoanalytical Theory: Way Less Phallic Than You’d Think

Psychoanalytical theory is a way to describe and explain human motivation within the context of a literary or media analysis. Contrary to popular belief, it’s not a prominent theory in psychology, in fact, it never really was! Freud gained traction largely as a public speaker for the public masses, and even within his lifetime his works and findings went unaccepted by the scientific community. This isn’t to say Freud wasn’t popular, only that his theories were never particularly scientific in nature, which is probably good, because otherwise we’d all have to deal with a subconscious desire to sleep with our parents, and that’s pretty gross. Instead, psychoanalytical theory is one of philosophy, a mechanism to explain or describe behavior using some of Freud’s less…incest flavored devices of human consciousness.

Freud is primarily concerned with the layers of the human cognitive experience which, in the early 20^th century, were understandably shrouded in mystery. Anatomists had begun cataloging portions of the brain by this time, and guessing as to their function, but with no physical proof of a mechanism of human consciousness, the science became necessarily speculative. Scientists could find no “soul lobe” in the brain, despite Montaigne’s high hopes for the pineal gland, so things got kind of…weird. Thus, with no empirical explanation for consciousness, Freud sought to frame the experience of “being” as an incidental to internal mental functioning. His theories then fall more in the realm of philosophy than psychology, and in philosophy there is no such thing as a bad idea.

The meat of Freud’s theory of the unconscious mind is just that, that there exists, beyond the scope of waking thought, a sea of feelings, wants, and desires whose tides shift and change our conscious will. It was revolutionary at the time, as well as terrifying, the idea that our mental self-efficacy was not particularly efficacious at all. Instead we are all boats, adrift on the sea of the ID, the dark, hungry, primal parts of ourselves that seek only self-pleasure and instant gratification. Then there’s the wind, the super ego, the idealist capable of empathy and high moral standard, pushing the boat toward calmer water. And then there’s the ego, the rudder, the calm arbiter of the two powerful forces of nature, ultimately deciding just where this ship ought to go.

For a ridiculous media comparison, in the TV show SpongeBob Squarepants, the character of Patrick Star would be the ID. He’s not particularly bright, and when he isn’t too busy being hungry and eating, he’s making impulsive and selfish decisions. On the other hand there’s the super ego in Sandy Cheeks, she’s intelligent, compassionate, and thoughtful, always trying to help others and make moral choices. And then there’s SpongeBob, the ego, caught between the two, generally doing the right thing and helping Sandy, but also occasionally going along with Patrick’s terrible life choices.

In this way, as motivation, psychoanalytical theory is everywhere. It is one of many ways in which we try to explain what it means to be a thinking, feeling being.

Is it true? Who knows, really, but one thing is certain.

Freud had some real mommy issues.