In this far-reaching and important article, Christian Roesler critically reexamines classical Jungian theory, arguing that while Jung’s biological and anthropological claims are untenable, the idea of a universal psychological process remains profoundly relevant. By reframing archetype theory as a theory of cultural symbolization processes of psychological transformations, Roesler positions analytical psychology as a poetic science that enriches psychotherapy through meaning-making, rather than literal truths.

On this page

• Giegerich’s critique in 1984
• The wobbly ground of archetype theory
• Racism inherent in the theory
• Biologically determined mental abilities exist, but are unrelated to archetypes
• What is the appropriate level of investigation?
• The process idea
• Is Jung’s model of the individuation process universal?
• Jung’s view of transference
• The role of archetypes in the developmental school
• Archetype theory as hermeneutics
• What remains of archetype theory?
• What about the collective unconscious and its contents?
• Pathways for future inquiry

Giegerich’s critique in 1984

Wolfgang Giegerich is certainly one of the most unusual and independent thinkers in the field of analytical psychology. Even if I do not agree with his radical reconceptualization of the epistemological foundations of analytical psychology, it must be said that he was very early and courageous in pointing out fundamental problems and contradictions in Jung’s theories, especially in archetype theory.

In The provenance of C. G. Jung’s psychological findings (Giegerich, 2005; originally published in German in 1984), Giegerich was one of the first within the German-speaking Jungian community to courageously address the unresolved contradictions in Jung’s archetype theory as a hermeneutic theory of meaning on the one hand and its claim to be empirical natural science on the other.

In his article, he successfully highlights Jung’s contribution to psychology by showing how, early on in the history of psychology, it emphasized the importance of the meaning of symptoms (and other productions of the unconscious) for the inner reality of the subject. But Giegerich does not mention that this attitude, which Jung developed in his work with Bleuler at the Burghölzli in Zurich at the beginning of the 20th century, represented a radical reform of psychiatry and psychotherapy that was to revolutionize psychology as a whole.

The idea was that if we assume that what appears to us as madness has a meaning, and we find a way to access this meaning, then we can also find a way to access the patient and their psyche, and change becomes possible.

Another idea that becomes clear here, and with which Jung revolutionized psychology, is a deep trust in the soul’s ability to heal itself and the conviction that psychotherapy can be a meaningful and purpose-driven process in which integration and healing become possible.

The approach to Jungian concepts proposed in Giegerich’s article, which could be described as a radical recognition of psychological reality or, as James Hillman (1983) puts it, the reality of imagination, is also very close to Hillman’s archetypal psychology.

At the same time, in view of the many problems and contradictions in archetype theory, it offers a possible viable path to a solution, namely a radical reformulation of the theory in the direction of applied hermeneutics, which I find quite appealing.

However, in this article, Giegerich also strikes me as naive in that he ultimately wants to dismiss the contradiction between meaning orientation on the one hand and the claim that everything is empirical science on the other, which Jung actually left unresolved. In contrast, both myself and other authors have made it clear that Jung is guilty here of what Habermas (1968) described as the scientistic self-misunderstanding of psychoanalysis.

It is true, as Giegerich emphasizes, that Jung’s psychology is very strongly rooted in Platonic philosophy, but it is also at least as strongly rooted in the philosophy of Kant and other epistemological positions that are incompatible with it. In his overview of the criticism of Jung’s theory, Papadopoulos (1992) summarizes several critiques that refer primarily to Jung’s recourse to philosophers. Although Jung claims the sharpness of epistemological distinctions in Kant, he dissolves them again in the distinction between reality and fantasy: “This is so because Jung not only recognizes fantasy but even puts it ahead of fact” (p. 6).

In another article, Giegerich (1975) accuses Jung of being unable to distinguish between the absolute and the empirical, which leads to an irreparable dissociation between his own psychology and logic.

The points mentioned above are brought together by Trevi (1992), who claims that there are two different tendencies in Jung: one to construct a coherent and systematic view of psychic life, and another to move away from this systematic representation to give space to essentially experiential content that breaks down the theoretical framework.

Jung simultaneously cements his psychology as a natural science and objectifies subjective experience—the problem of the observer observing himself as an object remains unresolved.

Besides this strenuously critical methodological position, sentences of the so-called objective science (i.e. naturalistic) of the psyche appear in the rhapsodic disorder that is characteristic of Jung. It does not matter that Jung, who also tries to unmask the naturalistic nature of psychological research from which he comes, continuously falls into the circle of the same naturalism. (Trevi, 1992, p. 363).

Trevi points out that Jung desperately sought to find a superior standpoint above all these contradictions, but failed to do so, and thus his psychology remains full of contradictions. While he wants to constitute his psychology as a science with the nomothetic ideal of the natural sciences, he simultaneously abandons the scientific nature of his psychology and reduces it to the experience of understanding the psychic process.

Ultimately, Jung’s psychology takes on the character of a symbolic or metaphorical language, a hermeneutic undertaking.

The following claim by Giegerich strikes me as arrogant: “The accusation of unscientificness against Jungian psychology is not made on a high theoretical level, but is based on unreflective but emotionally highly vivid collective ideas” (1984, p. 24). I would not accept being accused of lack of reflection or theoretical rigor in relation to my own research.

Ultimately, it boils down to a kind of immunization strategy against criticism of Jungian theories, which is still quite common in analytical psychology today: if someone criticizes Jung, then they simply haven’t understood him properly.

Towards the end of his article, however, Giegerich ultimately makes it clear that Jung’s psychology and the natural sciences come from two different worlds. Exactly! And if this is accepted, one should finally abandon the scientific arguments.

The wobbly ground of archetype theory

Because the arguments found in Giegerich’s (1984/2005) article are still very widespread within analytical psychology, I would like to outline my fundamental criticism of such arguments as well as of the current version of archetype theory in general. This basically summarizes my argumentation in my book Deconstructing Archetype Theory: A Critical Analysis of Jungian Ideas (Roesler, 2023a).

The starting point for this discussion was the realization that there is still no uniform definition of archetypes, that confusion continues to reign, that completely incompatible definitions are presented, leading to unresolved questions regarding the core concept of analytical psychology.

It seems that the majority of experts are not interested in this at all (Mills, 2018). Therefore, it is unclear what someone is referring to when they use the term archetype, even in contemporary publications. And the confusion begins with Jung himself.

The core problem is that Jung put forward a theory—and tried to defend it against any form of criticism, even justified criticism—which can be outlined in terms of the following core principles:

• Archetypes are embedded in the biological predisposition of humans, similar to instincts/patterns of behavior in animals.
• They were formed in the prehistory of humanity, and since they are biologically rooted, they occur “autochthonously” in every human being, without influence from culture and socialization.
• These biologically rooted archetypes are therefore responsible for similarities in religion, cultural patterns, and social practices.
• They are ultimately responsible for the psychological development of the individual.

In this theory, Jung attempted to combine concepts from biology, anthropology, religion, prehistory, and mythology into a unified explanatory concept for the development of humanity, its cultures and religions, and the individual psyche.

This is quite impossible, and Jung’s unified theory could therefore be characterized as a grandiose fantasy.

As a solution to the confusion in definitions, I have argued that Jung’s conceptualization of archetypal theory is not one unified theory, but comprises four different theories that must be clearly separated from each other:

• a theory about biologically/genetically inherited mental abilities;
• an anthropological theory about human universals, as they manifest in mythology, religious ideas, and social practices;
• a transcendental theory based on philosophical concepts (e.g. Platonic ideas) that attempts to locate archetypes in a transpersonal sphere;
• a theory about a universal process of psychological transformation that takes place both in life and in psychotherapy.

This last theory is of great importance to Jung’s approach to psychotherapy, and could also be described as the core theory of analytical psychology. A large part of Jung’s work deals with the attempt to map this process, hence his studies on alchemy, religion, and mythology.

Despite criticism and contradictions that were already pointed out during his lifetime, Jung stood by his unified theory. It seems to me that this unifying approach is so fascinating that it remains very attractive to many people both within and outside the Jungian community, resulting in a strong tendency to embrace this belief system.

In my book, the first two parts of the theory, the biological and anthropological arguments, are examined using the latest findings from anthropology, religious studies, archaeology, and paleoanthropology. The research shows that the assumed similarities or archetypes do not exist.

Where there are intercultural parallels, e.g. in what anthropology has characterized as universals, as well as in the field of comparative mythology, these can be easily explained by migration, physical contact, cultural exchange, the interaction between regional environmental conditions, and the dynamics inherent in culture and society itself.

Jung was blind to such views because he was convinced that the doctrine of archetypes was a biological theory and, as such, part of the natural sciences, which in his eyes was the only way to make this theory a truly scientific one and defend it against criticism.

Ironically, it was precisely this approach that made the theory of archetypes questionable, even unscientific, and exposed it to massive criticism (Papadopoulos, 1992). Unfortunately, this approach has continued in analytical psychology to this day. In a survey of experts conducted for the above-mentioned book on their definition of archetype, points of view were expressed that still adhere to a naïve innatism.

At least as irritating is the fact that the findings that have developed in the relevant disciplines, namely anthropology, religious studies, and comparative mythological research, have played virtually no role in the debate in analytical psychology.

It should be noted that Jung’s far-reaching nomothetic statements about the universality of the so-called Great Mother and the associated hero myth as images for the development of consciousness from the unconscious are not just some ideas in archetype theory, but are in fact at the center of the architecture of the entire theory.

The debate is therefore not only about the existence or non-existence of certain archetypes, but about Jung’s ideas, which form a coherent explanatory system that links all aspects of the unifying theory presented above. All these aspects play a role in the construction of the entire theory; they form a coherent architecture.

In view of the evidence that clearly speaks against the universal dissemination of these ideas and images, namely those of the so-called Great Mother and the Hero, the architecture of Jung’s entire archetype theory has practically collapsed. Here, too, it seems that no one has noticed this.

Although archetype theory, not only in the form presented by Jung, but also in its present form (see teaching at the Jungian institutes, introductory texts on the IAAP website, etc.), makes far-reaching, even nomothetic statements on questions of anthropology, religion, and comparative mythology, it has neglected or even completely lost touch with developments and the state of scientific knowledge in these areas.

This neglect is not only ignorance, but appears to be a kind of arrogance: as if analytical psychology did not need these other disciplines and their findings, as if it were above such research, often referred to as “positivist”, as if it were in ultimate possession of the truth. As a result, the basis of the entire theoretical construct of archetypal theory has disappeared. So even if there were some evidence for certain archetypes, or proof for some psychological traits to be genetically encoded, this would not save the entire theoretical construct from being refuted.

Racism inherent in the theory

In fact, the situation is even worse: the racist and derogatory viewpoints that were characteristic of colonial thinking are not only deeply embedded in Jung’s theory of archetypes, but these viewpoints are still perpetuated in analytical psychology, with only marginal criticism (Group of Jungians, 2018).

This concerns the so-called “homology of phylogenesis and ontogenesis”, a theory that was very widespread in anthropology in the 19th and early 20th centuries, which states that the development of the individual repeats the development of the species. Jung deduces from this that the mental state of so-called primitives corresponds to that of early humans, and furthermore to that of children and the mentally ill. The following are some particularly repulsive examples of this way of thinking.

In Jung’s text On Psychic Energy (CW8) in the chapter The Primitive Conception of Libido, Jung argues, based on a compilation of quotations from anthropology, that there is a powerful energetic principle in the psyche of primitives, which Jung coined mana. This ultimately leads him to the thesis that primitives exhibit what Levy-Bruhl (1910) called “participation mystique”. Levy-Bruhl even refers to them as “les sociétés inférieures” [inferior societies].

Jung argues that primitives, similarly to children, cannot distance themselves from the effects of this energy or reflect on it. He even claims that they have no concept of this energy, but only experience it as a psychic phenomenon. This is what Jung refers to as “primitive mentality”.

[…] for us mana would be a psychological concept of energy, but for the primitive it is a psychic phenomenon that is perceived as something inseparable from the object. There are no abstract ideas to be found among primitives, not even, as a rule, simple concrete concepts, but only “representations”. (CW8, para. 127)

In this text, Jung makes it clear that he sees so-called primitives as being at a lower stage not only of cultural development, but also of psychological development. In another text, Jung argues that he sees small children and primitive people as being at a common stage of psychological development, without signs of ego consciousness, strongly influenced by the expressions of their own psyche and succumbing to magical beliefs (CW8, para. 668). Referring to Levy-Bruhl’s concept of participation mystique, translated here as “identity”, Jung writes:

Identity derives essentially from the notorious unconsciousness of the small child. Therein lies the connection with the primitive, for the primitive is as unconscious as a child. Unconsciousness means non-differentiation. There is as yet no clearly differentiated ego, only events which may belong to me or to another. (CW17, para. 83)

Jung then discusses what would happen if children did not attend school:

[…] they would remain largely unconscious. […] It would be a primitive state, and when such children came of age they would, despite their native intelligence, still remain primitive—savages, in fact, rather like a tribe of intelligent Negroes or Bushmen. They would not necessarily be stupid, but merely intelligent by instinct. They would be ignorant, and therefore unconscious of themselves and the world. Beginning life on a very much lower cultural level, they would differentiate themselves only slightly from the primitive races. (CW17, para. 104)

Here Jung blatantly denies the findings already available in his time about comparable intelligence, the high level of culture, and the partly scientific-experimental approach, for example, in exploring the effects of plants among traditional peoples. Erich Neumann, who uncritically shares this view, expresses a similar opinion:

Small, weak, sleeping most of the time, i.e. largely unconscious, [early humans] drift instinctively like animals. (Neumann, 1949, p. 92)

My impression is that the majority of Jungians are not even aware that large parts of the theory continue to convey these highly problematic points of view.

In contrast, Giegerich (1975) pointed out the problems with this idea of homology very sharply. He criticizes the above-mentioned comparisons by Jung and Neumann and makes a clear distinction between cultural development and phylogenesis. He concludes that it is impossible to argue for any kind of psychological evolution in history. He characterizes Neumann’s work as fiction and speculative construction, arguing that these ideas are in themselves a myth, an archetypal fantasy. And the problem is that these myths are presented as science.

It is interesting to note that although Giegerich’s criticism was formulated as early as 1975, Neumann’s approach is still defended in recent publications and the central argument of Giegerich’s criticism is not well understood. Walch (2005) accuses Giegerich of misunderstanding Neumann and of a destructive tendency in his attempt to confront Neumann’s assumptions with facts from mythology research.

The central argument here, as in so many contributions to analytical psychology, is the claim that archetypes are located in the collective unconscious and therefore cannot be compared or explained by empirical findings from the so-called “positivist” sciences.

Biologically determined mental abilities exist, but are unrelated to archetypes

There is no doubt that humans have innate abilities, but these are the opposite of what Jung imagined biologically anchored archetypes to be. All these innate elements are not structures and contents, but merely abilities that are all geared toward building relationships, participating in communication, cooperation, and sociality. In short: they are geared towards social relationships (e.g. the innate language acquisition system).

This is the opposite of what Jung imagined when he postulated a biological basis for archetypes. His theory basically states that the individual develops from his own archetypal predispositions, autochthonous, independent of socialization.

Given the current state of knowledge, the archetypes Jung had in mind cannot be conceptualized as biologically rooted.

Nevertheless, evidence for genetic pathways for mental abilities in humans is still used today to argue that such findings provide proof for the biological anchoring of Jung’s archetypes (e.g. Goodwyn, 2020, Alcaro et al., 2017; for a critique, see Roesler, 2023b).

Such authors continue to make the mistake of treating these findings as “proof” of a biological theory of archetypes and of biologically preformationist ideas. They fail to recognize that the archetypes of classical archetypal theory, such as Anima and Animus, the Old Sage, the Trickster, the Divine Child, and the hero’s journey, are fundamentally different from the abilities that have been identified as biologically based.

I would therefore suggest that the term archetype should no longer be used for biologically preformed mental predispositions in humans, as this causes confusion rather than clarity.

Why is it so important to describe the archetype as a biological concept, even for contemporary theorists? It is as if the theory becomes a better theory when it is equipped with dubious concepts and findings from the natural sciences, and highly questionable pseudo-biological arguments. This would mean continuing Jung’s mistake of conceptualizing archetypal theory as part of the natural sciences, namely biology, in order to defend the theory against criticism and make it a “genuine scientific theory” (Papadopoulos, 1992).

There is no need to continue such attempts. In my view, analytical psychology has been caught up for decades in useless academic debates about various biological pathways of development in a desperate attempt to find a biological explanation for the origin of archetypes.

However, it is not necessary—and I would even argue that it is not possible—to investigate what is meant by the term archetype at the level of genes, gene-environment interaction, instincts and behavioral patterns. We will not find archetypes in genes or at the level of biological processes.

What is the appropriate level of investigation?

Human biological and genetic predisposition certainly play a role in determining the behavioral patterns, social rules, and cultural contexts we develop. But even if we start from what biology, especially ethology, tells us about so-called human nature, we find that humans are not biologically prepared for specific natural environments, but rather for life in social groups and relationships.

The ability of humans to build complex social relationships, large groups, and even civilizations, to interact, communicate, and cooperate, to trust each other, to develop common goals and pursue them together, is what makes our species so successful. This is the outstanding characteristic of humans.

The environment for which we are genetically predisposed is not a specific environment, but rather the human group and culture into which we are born, and our biologically pre-programmed abilities are aimed at making us competent members of this group and culture.

There is no symbolic content embedded in our brains, as neural growth is non-specific, but we are prepared to fully absorb the content, rules, structures, and stories of the culture into which we are born.

On the other hand, there are certainly similarities in structures and patterns that have developed in societies around the world, for example in mythologies and in the field of religion. Although it has been proven that these similarities arose through the migration of Homo sapiens “out of Africa” to the rest of the world and through cultural exchange (Witzel, 2012), the crucial question remains: How could these patterns, ideas, and structures survive over such a long period of time?

I do not question that such patterns can tell us something about the nature of humans and human societies. They certainly have to do with how we function psychologically. Rules and patterns that have developed in religions provide, in their own specific way, information that contributes to a good life, both in everyday life and in psychology in general.

For example, the practice of fasting at the end of winter, such as in Catholicism, may be a good idea, as it has many benefits on both a physical and psychological level. It allows the psyche to go through a phase of “mild depression”, which can actually serve as protection against mental disorders. The latter is a realization that we find in a whole range of religions in the form of the worship of deities who represent melancholy and gloom, and whose worship is associated with times when people “go into ashes”, such as during the ritual practices of Saturnalia in ancient Rome.

However, I would argue emphatically that it makes no sense to look for these patterns at the level of biology, in genes, instincts, and the like. Not only does it make no sense, it is also unnecessary. It is sufficient to examine human habits and institutionalized rules and procedures at the level of social practices, religious ideas, mythological stories, and related cultural expressions, in order to identify such truly universal patterns.

The what of archetypal theory is possibly more important than the how it comes about.

All that is needed is an open-minded and unbiased approach, by which I mean an attitude that does not seek to prove everything Jung said to be correct at all costs. This kind of archetype theory is definitely not what Jung conceived, but it is instead part of cultural psychology.

Archetypes can therefore best be described as a condensed form of psychological wisdom that has developed in human social practice and that can be studied at the cultural level.

This implies a cultural studies or cultural psychology approach—and here I agree with Giegerich again.

In a newly formulated archetype theory, we could therefore argue that religions, mythological stories, social practices, and rituals encode what is good for us humans [1].

The idea that social practices encode what is beneficial for humans reflects biological foundations, or our “human nature”, but is not determined by them. And as we have seen, humans are shaped not only by their biology, but also by the culture in which they live.

As a result, archetypes could be described as patterns that resonate with humans because they obviously have to do with being human. This would mean, for example, that we feel a resonance when we hear a certain story or when we encounter certain cultural customs or participate in a religious ritual; it strikes a chord in us that we share with other people.

The process idea

Jung’s assumptions in the fields of biology, anthropology, mythology, and religion have been largely disproved. In contrast, his idea of a universal process of psychological transformation that can provide a template for the psychotherapeutic process remains valuable and could be described as the core of archetypal theory and analytical psychology in general.

For Jung, the idea of the individuation process in his archetype theory provided the theoretical model for the practice of psychotherapy. The idea of a supposedly universal psychological process first came to Jung during his time as a psychiatrist, when he was studying the dynamics of psychosis.

In today’s language, there is a dynamic inherent in the human psyche that manifests itself in a process which, when activated, leads to psychological integration, growth, and ultimately healing—a goal commonly referred to in analytical psychology as wholeness.

The phases of this process are universal and can be described in terms of typical images or psychological experiences revolving around figures that embody psychological characteristics. This process appears as if there is an autonomous factor in the psyche/unconscious that brings about the transformation. In analytical psychology, this factor is usually referred to as the transcendent function.

This idea, which is characteristic of analytical psychology, has had an enormous influence on the development of other schools of psychotherapy, especially in the field of humanistic and transpersonal approaches (Roesler & Reefschläger, 2022).

Jung’s descriptions of this process can be divided into two distinct categories (Roesler, 2021):

• a centering process for which the archetype of the Self is responsible, and which can manifest itself in images in the form of mandalas in the broadest sense;
• a process containing a model of a sequence of clearly defined stages: the Shadow, Anima and Animus, the Old Sage/the Great Mother, etc.

The latter is a much more complex theory and makes more far-reaching claims in the sense of nomothetic statements, while the former theory would probably find agreement among a number of contemporary schools of psychotherapy, for instance Rogers’ approach.

A very important part of this first model is the idea of the self-organizing nature of the psyche. It implies a force or impulse that comes from the unconscious, takes a helpful stance in the development of personality, and is behind the process that aims at the wholeness of personality. In this model, therefore, the Self and the unconscious actively contribute to psychological recovery, working together with psychotherapy.

The collaboration of the unconscious is intelligent and purposive, and even when it acts in opposition to consciousness its expression is still compensatory in an intelligent way, as if it were trying to restore the lost balance. (GW9i, para. 505)

The second model contains as its central element the idea that consciousness develops from an unconscious matrix, which is represented in myths by the Hero who emancipates himself from the Great Mother. This model has been refuted in its supposedly universal form on various levels:

• Firstly, the development of the brain cannot be described as the starting point of an unconscious matrix. On the contrary, consciousness comes first.
• Secondly, Jung and Neumann selected their material very selectively and represented a Eurocentric view. The idea of a Great Mother as the source of life is by no means universal.

In general, it can therefore be said that the entire second model with its sequence of stages is flawed and must be rejected.

Interestingly, more recent descriptions of the process that is supposed to take place in Jungian psychotherapy often ignore the model of stages with the classical archetypes. For example, in her ambitious attempt to reformulate the process in Jungian psychotherapy, Kast (1999) successfully integrated the findings of infant observation and the concept of “representations of interactions generalized” (Boston Change Process Study Group, Stern, 1985), but describes the psychotherapeutic process, although she describes it as archetypal, without reference to the classical archetypes.

The same applies to the publications of Mario Jacoby (1998), who also attempted to integrate the Jungian approach with the findings of infant researchers and Kohut’s self psychology. The term archetype is almost completely abandoned, and the conceptualization of the “self” follows Stern (1985) rather than Jung. The only reference to the term archetype refers to the “creative and organizing factor that is called archetype” (Jacoby, 1998, p. 89).

There are two major problems associated with these ideas of a universal transformation process:

• The first is the question of the validity of these concepts and, related to this, the question of how Jung arrived at his conception of this process in the form he presented it.
• The second question concerns the role that the therapeutic relationship plays in this process.

Is Jung’s model of the individuation process universal?

Jung claims that he developed his model of the process in psychotherapy from the clinical material of his patients (CW8, para. 401). I have described this as a model of a centering process, in contrast to the model that encompasses all the stages represented by the classical archetypes, the most detailed description of which can be found in The Relations Between the Ego and the Unconscious (CW7).

As for the second model, which includes the archetypal phases, it seems to me that he developed these ideas during his so-called confrontation with the unconscious as part of the crisis following his break with Freud. This raises the question: Did Jung develop this sophisticated model of the individuation/psychotherapy process solely from his personal experiences and then apply it to his cases in the belief that what he had experienced was universal?

When reviewing Jung’s collected works, it is interesting to note that in the works in which he demonstrates the validity of his model using case studies, he always presents only a selection of the material and not all of the available material [2].

I would like to point out the following problem: once we have declared a theoretical explanatory system to be valid for ourselves, it shapes the way we view reality. There is therefore a danger that, when viewing a patient with such bias, we construct a reality that is based more on our own concepts than on the patient’s reality.

In the history of analytical psychology, beginning with Jung himself, there have been many efforts to find confirmation for Jung’s statements. What I believe is missing is a more skeptical attitude and thus an active search for confirmation or refutation of the concepts.

This could consist, for example, of research projects that document the individuation process in detail, including all material—dreams, fantasies, images, symbols, etc.—and then examine this material impartially to see whether the processes correspond to Jung’s description of the individuation process, rather than just publishing exemplary cases.

Psychoanalytic psychotherapy researchers Westen and Morrison (2001) emphasize this point:

Narrative case reports […] are invariably compromise formations. We hope they include a heavy dose of relatively accurate perception and memory. But as compromise formations, they are likely to reflect a variety of wishes and fears. Convincingly, to appear intelligent and clinically talented to one’s colleagues, to establish one’s identity as a member of the analytic community (or a subset of it), to express identification with admired others and with those whose admiration one desires, to express competitive or hostile impulses toward those with whom one disagrees or dislikes, and so forth.

Among the most important limitations are lack of replicability, lack of reliability of inference, lack of control over variables that would allow causal inference, and unknown generalizability. (Westen & Morrison, 2001, p. 883)

Because of this stance, Jung’s case studies, as well as many others published in the history of analytical psychology, may have primarily served the purpose of confirming the existing model rather than examining it with an open mind.

In cases where a critical stance was taken, it was shown that even classic Jungian cases could be well explained without reference to archetypes (e.g. Merchant, 2019). Based on these considerations, it would therefore be interesting to take a look at Jung’s actual practice of psychotherapy.

Apparently, Jung was able to be very empathetic, present, compassionate, and supportive in his therapies, thereby helping his patients greatly. We know this from a number of people who were in analysis with him and later became training analysts and authors publishing on analytical psychology.

But it seems to me that there is a certain bias, as if it were mainly these ideal therapies that were passed on and remembered in analytical psychology. For several years, I have been collecting first-hand accounts from former patients of Jung, as far as they are available in the literature, e.g. Wheelwright (1984), Shamdasani (1992), Medtner (1935), Douglas (1997), Bair (2003, p. 376-400), Reid (2001), and Jaffé (1989).

When I read these reports, I was amazed at the large number of sessions in which Jung did not even deal with the patient’s material, but instead gave lectures. In long monologues, he explained his theory and how it should be applied to the patient (e.g. Reid, 2001). I would even go so far as to say that, from today’s perspective, this was not psychotherapy at all, but rather education.

In many cases, he forced his view of their psyche on patients, even though some of them resisted it. Extreme examples of this are Christiana Morgan and Henry Murray, who both left very detailed accounts of their experiences with Jung (see the detailed reports in Bair, 2003, and Healy, 2017). These reports show us that Jung, who was absolutely convinced of the validity of his concepts, was willing to impose them on his patients rather than dealing with the material impartially.

For many followers who admired Jung and wanted to adopt his views, this may not have been a problem, so it only becomes apparent in cases where patients rejected Jung’s views. With regard to archetype theory, I would like to show that we should be cautious about the clinical material Jung uses as the basis for his theory.

Jung’s view of transference

Jung’s view of the therapeutic process becomes even more problematic when we look at his conceptualization of transference. During his collaboration with Freud, Jung emphasizes the importance of transference for any psychotherapy. Later, the concept becomes increasingly less important.

This development takes place as he becomes more and more involved in relationships with female patients (Toni Wolff, Marie-Louise von Franz). He then argues that the patient’s natural gratitude could develop into a personal friendship: “A personal human reaction to you is normal and reasonable, therefore let it be, it deserves to live; it is not transference anymore”, but “harmless intercourse” (Healy, 2017, p. 105).

In 1946, Jung completely revised the role of transference in psychotherapy, describing it as marginal. As a result, dealing with transference was not part of the training at the Jung Institute in Zurich [3].

I refer to these statements here because they highlight a problem, both on the level of Jung’s personal lifestyle (see the detailed account of his relationship with Toni Wolff in Healy, 2017) and on the level of his theory when it comes to interpersonal relationships.

In my view, there is no real concept of relationships in Jung’s work: a relationship is merely a projection surface for the individuation process, and once it has fulfilled its function, it has served its purpose.

From Jung’s perspective, personality development occurs almost exclusively from within the individual, autonomously. Relationships play no role except as a projection surface [4].

This attitude stands in stark contrast to the current state of human and social science, and practically all other psychoanalytic schools, according to which relationships are at the beginning of individual development and are absolutely essential for personality development (for details, see chapter 5 in Roesler, 2023a).

The theory of analytical psychology lacks clarity about where development comes from, what role relationships play in it, and what this means for the therapeutic relationship.

It remains to be seen how these views on the therapeutic relationship (Jungian and post-Freudian, e.g. object relations theory, self psychology, infant observation) can be integrated. For example, what do the findings of attachment research mean for an archetypal perspective on the therapeutic process?

To my knowledge, training institutes in Germany present a modern approach to transference based on object relations theory, self psychology, and relational perspectives. Archetypal transference is taught in a separate section, but it is not clear how the two are related. There does not even seem to be an awareness that the two models are somewhat contradictory.

The role of archetypes in the developmental school

The analytical psychology developed by Jung and his immediate followers did not focus on the depth psychological aspects of early childhood development. Nor was much attention paid to the usefulness of understanding the manifold relationships that can occur in the consulting room between patient and analyst. […]

The absence of a clinical and theoretical tradition of investigating these two important areas […] and the resulting lack of interest in understanding their interrelationship through the analysis of infantile transference led to a considerable impoverishment of analytical psychology. This would need to be corrected if analytical psychology is to develop as a credible professional and clinical endeavor. (Solomon, 1997, p. 119)

In her article, Solomon traces the development of the London group of Jungian analysts who found what they were missing in the so-called London Object Relations School (Melanie Klein, Donald Winnicott, Alfred Bion, among others). In contrast to Jung, interaction with caregivers and their ability to help and support the child in integrating these experiences plays a crucial role in this model.

This role can also be taken on by the analyst in psychotherapy. In both types of relationships, it is interaction that ensures the continuity of the self, even if the integrity of the self and its ability to self-regulate and heal are present from the outset.

It should be noted that this new model, rooted in developmental psychology, differs fundamentally from Jung’s model, which emphasizes the aspect of self-regulation in the sense that the process arises from within the individual. The focus is more on interactions with inner figures (e.g. Anima). In Jung’s model, the other is only a projection surface onto which the archetypal disintegrations are projected and which, if the process is healthy, can be recognized as parts of the self that can then be withdrawn and consciously integrated into the personality.

There is another important point: the developmental model is more or less identical to the first of the above versions of process theory, the idea that there is a pre-formatted identity or center of personality from the outset and that the process is centering in nature. As far as I can see, there is no place in the developmental school for what I have called classical archetypes, or for the second version mentioned above, namely a process that can be represented as a sequence of stages that are clearly defined by their content.

Nevertheless, there remain sharp divisions between different groups in both psychoanalysis and analytical psychology about the relative importance of the relational and interpretative aspects of analytic work. These divisions partly reflect the differing perceptions of the nature of the unconscious. (Knox, 2009, p. 6)

Although contemporary approaches in psychodynamic psychotherapies, such as attachment theory, strongly support the idea of a self-organizing principle in the psyche that was already present in Jung’s thinking, these contemporary approaches differ from the classical standpoint of Jungian psychotherapy when it comes to the role and form of the therapeutic relationship.

It supports the view that the analytic relationship needs to be more flexible than either the classical psychoanalytic interpretative or the classical Jungian archetypal models would allow; in place of the uncovering of specific mental content (e.g. repressed oedipal material or archetypes), an attachment-orientated analyst accompanies the patient on a developmental journey, one that will sometimes require interpretation of such material but will also allow for new experiences to emerge in the analytic relationship. (Knox, 2009, p. 8-9)

Knox points out that since the beginnings of object relations theory, all contemporary relational approaches in psychoanalysis agree on the three fundamental developmental tasks that must be accomplished in successful therapy:

1. affect regulation;
2. the capacity for mentalization;
3. a sense of self-agency.

These abilities, especially affect regulation and mentalization, result directly from relational interaction with the therapist: “the emotional regulation offered by the relationship creates the conditions necessary for the neural development in the orbitofrontal cortex and other areas, on which affect regulation depends” (Knox, 2009, p. 10).

These tasks differ greatly from what Jung considered to be the goals of therapy. Whereas the relational model speaks of mental abilities, Jung speaks of clearly defined phases of a process. This parallels what we have identified as a difference in Jung’s view of biologically inherited traits, i.e. archetypes specified by their content (Anima, Wise Old Man, etc.), compared to contemporary insights into innate traits, which are primarily abilities to interact, relate, and communicate.

It is interesting that this distinction echoes the findings from the discussion of contemporary developmental models in biology, which also show that there are innate mental abilities, but with the emphasis on ability rather than content, whereas Jung assumed that content patterns are preformed.

It should also be noted that, based on research findings that innate abilities consist of interaction and relationship skills, contemporary psychodynamic approaches always conceptualize the developing self as “being-with-others” (Stern, 1985; see also Winnicott: There is no infant, only an infant with a mother.)

This is a fundamentally different view from Jungian conceptualizations. Contemporary approaches see the relationship as the starting point, while the Jungian school assumes that the self is preformatted and primary.

This is an unresolved question. Where does development come from, from the relationship or from the preformatted self as an autonomous process?

This question also encompasses the therapeutic relationship. Where does therapeutic change come from: from the experience of the relationship with the therapist (which is then internalized as a “good object”), or do the therapist and the therapeutic relationship merely act as catalysts for an autonomous process that comes from within?

It is clear that these questions are crucial for the future of analytical psychology. If we are unable to demonstrate what is special about the Jungian approach in terms of the emergence of development and the bringing about of therapeutic change, there is no reason why we should not simply join forces with the other psychodynamic schools, as the publications by Kast, Jacoby, and Knox suggest.

Speaking of how change is brought about in psychotherapy, there is another process model, or rather a process metaphor, inherent in Jungian theory, that is rarely mentioned but, in my view, is probably the most important metaphor for psychotherapeutic change that Jung’s thinking has contributed.

It is the idea of death and renewal as a fundamental image of how psychological change comes about, namely through letting go of the goals of the conscious ego–Jung sometimes uses the term sacrifice–which enables change and renewal.

Personally, I believe that this is Jung’s most important contribution to psychology, as it relates to the deep mystery of how change comes about in human life and connects Jungian psychology with religious and, in particular, mystical traditions. It also distinguishes Jungian psychotherapy from all other psychotherapeutic schools and places it in a spiritual context (for further details, see Roesler & Reefschläger, 2022).

Archetype theory as hermeneutics

I believe that the process idea inherent in Jung’s archetype theory can still be used for the psychotherapeutic process, but to do so we must abandon the biological and nomothetic, and in many respects even positivistic, statements that Jung made about archetypes, an aspect that Giegerich would apparently like to gloss over.

In contrast, the theory of an archetypal process that takes place in psychological transformations and can be described on the basis of its phases must be regarded as an interpretative scheme, as a template for what I would call clinically applied hermeneutic.

Barnaby & D’Acierno define Jung’s psychology as part of cultural studies and argue the following:

Consequently, a genuine Jungian hermeneutics involves the use of a flexible (pluralistic), comparative, and interdisciplinary exegesis that seeks possibilities of interpretation—not conclusions—and whose canonical procedures expand the symbolic text by adding a wealth of personal and collective, historical and cultural analogies, correspondences, and parallels. In other words, Jungian interpretation unfolds as a production—a postulation of meanings in relation to, rather than the discovery of “the meaning”. (Barnaby & D’Acierno, 1990, p. XVII)

Here we come together again with Giegerich. However, unlike him, we do not skip over the fundamental criticism of Jung’s own biological positivism, but explicitly criticize and reject it.

This hermeneutics contrasts with what might be called “vulgar Jungianism”, i.e. “the mechanical and reductionist allegorical paraphrasing of a text according to the master code of archetypes” (Barnaby & D’Acierno, 1990, p. XXI).

In contrast, we must reject the idea—deeply inherent in Jung’s thinking—that meaning is bound to the symbol. (Jung actually uses the term “innate trigger mechanism” from ethology.) This is an idea that can only be characterized as a primitive form of a naïve essentialist epistemology.

Instead, meaning arises only in an interactive relationship between at least two human minds, which is why psychotherapy and psychotherapeutic change require two people. And this relationship is much more than just a projection screen; it is a place where something new emerges.

I believe that all the wonderful images of alchemy can still be applied here, as Schwartz-Salant (1998) brilliantly demonstrated in his work The mystery of human relationship.

However, we must always remember that these images are only metaphors, not tools for uncovering “the meaning”, but elements that serve to enrich the therapeutic relationship and the process that takes place in the patient. The images we use and the mythological stories that have accumulated throughout human history can serve as attempts to depict or describe these psychological processes, which are so difficult to describe in theory.

In this sense, we can find a new answer to the question: what kind of science is archetypal psychology (and with it, analytical psychology)? I have already pointed out that Jung’s attempt to formulate archetypal psychology as a natural science was misconceived from the outset, a “pseudo-scientific self-misunderstanding”.

Since images and other artistic creations, myths, fairy tales and other narrative texts, symbols and ideas are at the heart of analytical practice in analytical psychology (i.e. when we deal with what we consider to be archetypes), we could characterize analytical psychology as a poetic science: a science that deals with the search for meaning and sometimes even with the creation of meaning.

This point of view was excellently described by James Hillman (1971, 1975, 1983), who never made the mistake of confusing the psychology of the archetype with the natural sciences, but made it clear from the beginning of his archetypal psychology that he was talking about a world of imagination: “inventing healing”.

And here we meet again with Giegerich when he says: “Accordingly, for Jung, myths and archetypes also have only poetic, or as he would say, psychological truth, but also psychological truth” (p. 14).

In this sense, the theory of archetypes could be reformulated as a theory of cultural symbolization processes of psychological transformations.

What remains of archetype theory?

Based on the findings presented in my study (Roesler, 2023a), there is no alternative but to reject most of the assumptions of archetype theory. It makes no sense to search for a biological or even genetic basis for what we call archetypes. Nor is it an anthropological theory that can explain supposed universals, nor can it provide explanations for “archaisms” that connect modern humans with the archaic humans of prehistory.

I believe that archetype theory can only survive if we radically reduce the theory, its claims, and its scope of application. We should stop making assumptions about the “instinctive” basis of the psyche or other dubious biological conceptualizations.

Therefore, theories that have recently been discussed in the field of psychotherapy, such as Panksepp’s model of basic emotion systems or the idea of basic needs, are highly explanatory but cannot be equated with archetypal theory and should not be confused with it, as in the account proposed by, for example, Alcaro et al. (2017).

If one nevertheless wishes to do so, the question arises as to why the term archetype should be retained for these processes, given that it has been conflated with other meanings, and given that these ideas are not, in any strict sense, specifically Jungian.

We should also stop making claims about facts and connections in fields such as anthropology, prehistory, and the history of religions, since such claims have already been clearly refuted. The doctrine of archetypes should therefore be reduced to an explanatory model of the process of psychotherapy.

I am firmly convinced, and would still describe myself in this respect as a Jungian, that the idea of a universal and autonomous process in the psyche that unfolds in the course of psychotherapy contains a profound truth, and that this process can be described scientifically.

I am skeptical that, once we have examined well-documented processes impartially, this representation will look the way Jung described it.

Some elements may indeed be confirmed. For example, it makes sense to me that repressed aspects of the personality appear as shadow figures, and that when a person succeeds in integrating these aspects, the shadow yields a wealth of energy. I am less convinced that this applies equally to concepts such as the Anima and Animus, the Old Sage, and related figures, even if these concepts may still have something to offer.

Furthermore, it is not necessary to assume innate archetypes in order to understand the processes associated with what we call the Shadow. Complex theory (Roesler & van Uffelen, 2018) is sufficient to describe and explain these processes.

However, I do regard Jung’s general idea that there is a helping force in the unconscious, which supports the therapeutic process through the presentation of symbols, images, and narrative patterns, for example in dreams, as one of the most important contributions to psychotherapy in the twentieth century.

Jung’s concept of the self-organizing principle of the psyche, articulated in the notion of the “transcendent function”, can be seen as a precursor to a wide range of concepts that lie at the core of several contemporary schools of psychotherapy, including the humanistic schools and systemic approach.

I would also like to emphasize that this approach can be employed without making dubious claims about its biological basis or drawing questionable parallels with anthropology, religion, prehistory, and related fields. This does not mean that we cannot draw on insights from these fields—for example, social rules developed in traditional societies or healing practices emerging from religious traditions—as a form of wisdom that can enrich the psychotherapeutic process, in the sense that they illuminate what it means to be human and what the psyche requires for healing and wholeness.

We just have to remember that such elements are used merely metaphorically and interpretatively, as forms of meaning-making, rather than as facts that exist independently in the world. Adopting this perspective entails moving away from the reification of archetypal theory. However, when we practice psychotherapy, we are working with people and human relationships, and this human world is primarily characterized by being a world of structures of meaning.

What about the collective unconscious and its contents?

In a profound analysis of the epistemological and theoretical problems inherent in Jung’s concept of a collective unconscious, Mills (2019) has shown that this concept cannot be maintained in the form presented by Jung.

As I have suggested elsewhere (Roesler, 2021), instead of continuing Jung’s questionable assumptions about a collective unconscious and its preformed contents, we could modernize these ideas by using the concept of cultural complexes presented by Singer & Kimble (2004), noting that the idea of a cultural unconscious was already introduced by Joseph Henderson (1991). This would allow us to maintain the idea that there is a collectively shared realm that is unconscious and can have a massive influence on social groups and processes.

The key difference from the original concept of a collective unconscious is that cultural complexes are not conceived as innate or existing prior to experience. Rather, they develop from experience, primarily at the collective, social, and historical level rather than at the level of the individual.

In this sense, the theory of cultural complexes aligns closely with contemporary approaches in the social sciences and avoids the near-complete neglect of social scientific perspectives evident in Jung (for details, see Roesler, 2023a). Singer & Kimbles write:

Like individual complexes, cultural complexes tend to be repetitive, autonomous, resistant to consciousness, and accumulate experiences that confirm their historical standpoint. And […] cultural complexes tend to be bipolar, so that when they are activated, the group ego or the individual ego of a group member identifies with one part of the unconscious cultural complex, while the other part is projected onto the matching hook of another group or one of its members [5]. […]

Click here to read the footnote

[5] This characteristic of cultural complexes would make it possible to maintain the important idea in Jung’s archetype theory of a complementarity of the archetype as a bipolar characteristic, which is not only responsible for projection processes but also has healing potential. As a result, this would also make it possible to maintain the idea of a compensatory nature of the unconscious, which aims to balance out one-sidedness and complete the personality. Here, too, it is not necessary to adhere to the idea of innate archetypes in order to maintain these points of view.

Finally, cultural complexes, much like personal complexes, can provide those caught in their powerful web of stories and emotions with a simplified certainty about the group’s place in the world in the face of otherwise contradictory and ambiguous uncertainties. (Singer & Kimbles, 2004, p. 185-186)

Ironically, Jung’s conceptualization of archetype theory and its development in analytical psychology, in the form it has taken as a belief system, could itself be described as a cultural complex specific to the Jungian community.

Pathways for future inquiry

In conclusion, I would like to note that, in my opinion, Jung would not have wanted his followers to view his theory with reverence rather than a critical eye. Jung was aware of the intellectual atrophy that had developed in psychoanalysis as a result of this problem. The question is whether Jungians can avoid this potentially fatal mistake. (Neher, 1996, p. 89)

These conclusions suggest concrete directions for future research in analytical psychology. Reconceptualizing archetypes as cultural products requires examining them with methods from the cultural and social sciences (see Roesler, 2006, 2010, 2021). Future research should also clearly abandon the idea of finding eternal archetypes.

In particular, there is a great need for research on psychotherapeutic processes. The crucial point is to establish a comprehensive and standardized documentation system for psychotherapeutic processes in order to create a database that enables detailed investigations of the unconscious processes in psychotherapy.

Only if we succeed in creating such detailed documentation will we be able to identify patterns, structures, symbols, and processes that recur across individuals, which could then support the idea of a universal process in psychotherapy, one that might appropriately be called archetypal.

Another interesting research question in the field of archetypes is how Jungian therapists actually work with what they consider to be archetypes in order to gain a more empirically grounded understanding of the actual practice of analytical psychotherapy in the Jungian context (Samuels, 1998).

As I have argued in many places, the development of such research approaches requires a more open attitude among Jungians—one that does not insist on confirming Jung’s theories at any cost, but is genuinely interested in understanding how things really are, in this case, what actually occurs during psychotherapy.

Once this attitude is established, we need collaborative efforts to collect data, systematically document our psychotherapies, and build a robust database to support investigations of the psychotherapy process, regardless of what we ultimately discover.

January 2026

For those who would like more information on this topic, see the presentation of Christian Roesler’s book.

References

Christian Roesler, PhD

Christian Roesler is a Jungian psychoanalyst (IAAP) in private practice and a training analyst for the C.G. Jung-Institutes in Stuttgart and Zurich. He is also a professor of clinical psychology at the Catholic University Freiburg (Germany), a lecturer in analytical psychology at the University of Basel (Switzerland), and an associate Professor for Psychotherapy Science at the Sigmund Freud Private University (Austria).

His recent books, all published by Routledge, are:

• C. G. Jung’s archetype concept: Theory, research and applications (2021).
• Deconstructing archetype theory: A critical analysis of Jungian ideas (2023)
• Dreams and dream interpretation: A contemporary introduction (2025)

Learn more

• Critique of archetype theory: yesterday and today—an article by Christian Roesler