U.S. Constitution

P1: vendor
Journal of Applied Psychoanalytic Studies [japa] PP277-346693 October 22, 2001 10:2 Style file version Nov. 19th, 1999
Journal of Applied Psychoanalytic Studies, Vol. 3, No. 4, October 2001 (°

c 2001)
The Psychodynamic Assumptions

of the U.S. Constitution
Glenn Swogger, Jr.1,2
The U.S. Constitution is a blueprint for the design of a government which

reflects the consistent application of an understanding of the emotions and
interests driving the political activity of individuals and groups. This under-
standing is articulated in the writings of key proponents of the Constitution,
and clarified by its historical and philosophical context. Their theories are
congruent with psychoanalytic perspectives on narcissism, leadership, group
dynamics, and the role of transitional space in cultural life. The concept of
interests, reformulated in psychoanalytic terms, is a useful addition to our
understanding of political behavior.
KEY WORDS: U.S. Constitution; interest groups; narcissism; group dynamics; leadership;
transitional space.
The designers of the U.S. Constitution were acutely aware of irrational

and self-serving emotions driving individuals and groups and their impact on
the function and viability of democratic government. They designed govern-
mental structures and the relationship between the parts of government with
explicit reference to how these structures might contain individual ambition
and the drive for power; group conflict and the conflicts of various social,
religious and economic interests; the needs of groups to define boundaries
and enemies; the tendency of large groups to irrationality, impulsiveness and
grandiosity; and the tendency of dominant groups to tyrannize and scape-
goat minorities. The understanding of human behavior and motivation by
the designers of the Constitution arose from a rich tradition of scrutiny and
theorizing about human behavior by theologians, moral philosophers, poets,
1 Menninger Clinic, Director of the Will Menninger Center for Applied Behavioral Sciences
(retired).
2 Correspondence should be directed to Glenn Swogger, Jr., M.D., 5818 SW Turnberry Ct.,
Topeka, KS 66614; e-mail: gswogger@aol.com.
353
1521-1401/01/1000-0353$19.50/0 °
C 2001 Human Sciences Press, Inc.
P1: vendor
354 Swogger
satirists and political theorists of the 17th and 18th centuries. This paper
will explore key themes of this era which were translated into the design
of a particular complex organization via the U.S. Constitution. The human
understanding embedded in this process will be compared and contrasted
with some current psychoanalytic concepts relevant to group and individ-
ual political and organizational behavior, to see if these perspectives from a
different era might offer some “new” insights of use to us today.
THE FEDERALIST PAPERS: PSYCHODYNAMIC ASSUMPTIONS
The richest source of materials for understanding the view of human

nature utilized by the designers of the Constitution is found in The Feder-
alist Papers and related writings of Madison, Hamilton, Adams, and others
of that era. The Federalist Papers consist of 85 articles published in New
York newspapers in 1787 and 1788, and then published in book form, by
James Madison, Alexander Hamilton, and John Jay, urging adoption of the
new Constitution. In attempting to understand the nature of democratic
government and to outline a rationale for a particular form of governmen-
tal structure, namely the proposed Constitution of the United States, they
focused on what they saw as enduring features of human involvement in
political processes.
The Federalist Papers are extraordinary in their broad scope and in the
depth of their understanding. In Federalist No. 10, Madison discusses how a
well-constructed government might “control the violence of faction.”
By a faction I understand a number of citizens, whether amounting to a majority or
minority of the whole, who are united and actuated by some common impulse of
passion, or of interest, adverse to the rights of other citizens, or to the permanent
and aggregate interests of the community. (p. 123)
Madison goes on to state some remarkable paradoxes regarding fac-

tions. It is impossible to remove the causes of faction, because to do so one
must either “give every citizen the same opinions, the same passions, and
the same interests” which is manifestly impossible, or the freedom to ex-
press opinions and be politically active must be abrogated. “Liberty is to
faction what air is to fire.” Thus, although factions are the greatest danger to
democracy, they are also its essential element. Madison goes on to say that:
As long as the reason of man continues fallible, and he is at liberty to exercise it,
different opinions will be formed. As long as the connection subsists between his
reason and his self love, his opinions and his passions will have a reciprocal influence
on each other . . . A zeal for different opinions concerning religion, concerning gov-
ernment, and many other points . . . an attachment to different leaders ambitiously
contending for pre-eminence and power . . . divided mankind into parties, inflamed
P1: vendor
Psychodynamic Assumptions 355
them with mutual animosity, and rendered them much more disposed to vex and
press each other than to cooperate for their common good . . . but the most com-
mon and durable source of factions has been the various and unequal distribution of
property. (p. 123–124)
When actual human beings participate in the democratic process, what we

get is not only the rational and civic-minded citizen, but all the passions of
the human psyche.
Madison expands his assertion of the role of property as a fundamental
interest as follows:
Those who hold and those who are without property have ever formed distinct inter-
ests in society. Those who are creditors, and those who are debtors, fall under a like
discrimination. A landed interest, a manufacturing interest, a mercantile interest, a
monied interest, with many lesser interests, grow up of necessity in civilized nations,
and divide them into different classes, actuated by different sentiments and views.
The regulation of these various and interfering interests forms the principle task of
modern legislation and involves the spirit of party and faction in the necessary and
ordinary operations of government. (p. 124)
Elsewhere, Madison gives property a “. . . larger and juster meaning” in

which property “embraces every thing to which a man may attach a value
and have a right . . . his opinions and free communication of them . . . his
religious opinions . . . the safety and liberty of his person . . . the free use
of his faculties and free choice of the objects on which to employ them”
(Madison, 1792).
The second paradox of government in a democratic society is that those
characteristics which lead people to be different, and to form conflicting
factions, reflect abilities and achievements of great value:
The diversity in the faculties of men, from which the rights of property originate,
is not less an insuperable obstacle to a uniformity of interests. The protection of
these faculties is the first object of government. From the protection of different and
unequal faculties of acquiring property, the possession of different degrees and kinds
of property immediately results; and from the influence of these on the sentiments
and views of the respective proprietors ensues a division of society into different
interests and parties. (p. 124)
The third and in some ways most profound paradox is that individuals and
groups participating in the democratic process, biased as they are by their
own interests, must make impartial judgments for the common good.
No man is allowed to be a judge in his own cause, because his interest would certainly
bias his judgment, and, not improbably, corrupt his integrity. With equal, nay with
greater reason, a body of men are unfit to be both judges and parties at the same
time; yet what are many of the most important acts of legislation but so many judicial
determinations, not indeed concerning the rights of single persons, but concerning
the rights of large bodies of citizens? And what are the different classes of legislators
but advocates and parties to the causes which they determine? (p. 124)
P1: vendor
356 Swogger
Madison brushes aside a simple appeal to higher values and good conscience,
to a moral elite as a solution to this problem:
It is in vain to say that enlightened statesmen will be able to adjust these clashing
interests and render them all subservient to the public good. Enlightened statesmen
will not always be at the helm. Nor, in many cases, can such an adjustment be made
at all without taking into view indirect and remote considerations, which will rarely
prevail over the immediate interest which one party may find in disregarding the
rights of another or the good of the whole. (p. 125)
Madison goes on from this point to begin to elaborate those governmen-

tal structures and other elements which will help to modify, not the causes of
faction, but its effects. But it is clear that he has set himself a hard task. For his
understanding of human nature is such that our much celebrated “diversity”
reflects significant individual characteristics, including differences in one’s
position in the economic order, and that these differences inevitably lead to
conflict and to difficulties in judging what might be best for the community as
a whole. Madison believed that ambition and self-love, as well as the passions
engendered out of membership in a faction, adherence to a religious sect,
or other intense belief system, will obscure in many instances a thoughtful,
reflective, long-term consideration of social goods and governmental policy.
The interests which lead to factions are not “bad.” They reflect our vital
relationship to community, livelihood, and belief. Democracies are formed
just so interests may be represented. But democratic government poses the
eternal problem of transmuting individual and group interests into goals and
policies for the larger society.
INTERESTS
What do we mean when we use the word “interest”? The first definition
in the Oxford English Dictionary is “the relation of being objectively con-
cerned in something, by having a right or title to, a claim upon, or a share
in.” A later definition states “the feeling of one who is concerned or has a
personal concern in anything; hence, the state of feeling proper to such a
relation; a feeling of concern for or curiosity about a person or thing” and,
finally “the fact or quality of mattering; concernment, importance.” One
strand of the meaning of “interest” has to do with ownership. Another has
to do with an enduring relationship of concern or involvement. It is worth
taking note of the variant meaning of interest in the financial sense: money
paid for the use of money over a stipulated period. Here “interest” reveals
that time is a dimension of the value of things. At an emotional and affec-
tive level, “interest” denotes a relationship, an involvement, with a thing, a
person, a belief or an idea: “I am interested in the work of Freud.” “I am
P1: vendor
interested in you.” The affective and relational dimension of interest is in

part tied to the concept of ownership; to “own” something is for it to be “my
own,” which can overlap with my understanding of me and my boundaries,
as in the case of a transitional object. It is easy to forget in the Western con-
text of abstract legal definitions of property that a place, a locality to which
I have an enduring relationship, can be a part of me; that dear and treasured
objects may be reflections or extensions of me; that certain objects that I
own or possess in common with others may stand as symbols of my highest
aspirations and values (Isaac, 1969).
Thus interests are broader than economic claims. Interests may include
idealistic and ideological commitments. Currently, some assert “nature” as
an interest. The “life of the unborn” is a passionate interest for others. The
interest in justice of American abolitionists was sufficient to commit them-
selves and this country to the most bloody and destructive war in American
history. Sometimes people sacrifice or even die for what they conceive of as
their deepest interest. “Justice” and “fairness” are not only values, but in the
sense that they command allegiance, support, political activity and sacrifice
on the part of significant numbers of people, are also interests.
In legal and economic matters, the courts have attempted to define
who has an interest in a matter under consideration with the concept of
“standing.” “Standing” is evidenced by a clear-cut relationship of economic
profit or loss or the possibility of personal injury. Because the concept of
standing is more narrowly focused than that of interest, legal attempts have
been made to broaden it, for example in the celebrated issue “Should Trees
Have Standing?” Similarly, with regard to social, political and economic
matters, the concept of “stakeholders” attempts to define and legitima-
tize the concern of a wide range of groups around an organizational or
political matter so as to justify and necessitate their involvement in some
decisions.
It is worth noting that Madison, while giving predominance to economic
interest, also refers to religious sects and passionate zealots for causes as
interests which may evolve into factions. For Madison, factions are an amal-
gam of interests, passionate involvement, organization into politically active
groups, and the machinations of their leadership in their ambition, love of
power, or wishes for revenge or restitution. Madison recognized that factions
also involved the need, familiar to modern students of group and intergroup
dynamics, to define boundaries and enemies, and to manifest the “narcissism
of minor differences” (Freud, 1921):
So strong is this propensity of mankind to fall into mutual animosities that where
no substantial occasion presents itself the most frivolous and fanciful distinctions
have been sufficient to kindle their unfriendly passions and excite their most violent
conflicts. (p. 124)
P1: vendor
358 Swogger
Madison offers what might be called two developmental paths to interest.

Interest, he says, usually involves the passionate advocacy of selfish and local
causes. However, there is also the mild voice of reason, pleading the cause of
“an enlarged and permanent interest” (p. 276). Such an interest is dedicated
to the common good, for example, what is good for the people of a state, as
opposed to a locality within the state, or a nation as opposed to a particular
state (See p. 299). An enlarged interest may also contemplate a longer time
span: an enduring commitment or relationship to a polity which considers
the long-term consequences of present actions. The struggle between local
interests and broader considerations runs throughout The Federalist Papers.
Madison attributes the success of the Constitutional Convention to “a deep
conviction of the necessity of sacrificing private opinions and partial interests
to the public good” (Federalist No. 37, p. 247). Numerous passages in The
Federalist Papers underline both the legitimacy of interest and the distinc-
tion between transient, or local, or emotionally driven interests, and those
interests which are comprehensive, relevant to society as a whole, and im-
bued with a time dimension that takes the future into account. This concept
of interest, then, is not a mechanical process based on simple assignment of
people into categories based on social class, property ownership, race, gen-
der, etc. We can understand broader interests as something to be clarified
and discovered as part of the political process.
A TENSE BALANCE BETWEEN OPTIMISM AND PESSIMISM
The authors of The Federalist Papers attempted to integrate their demo-

cratic idealism with their sober assessment of the realities of human behav-
ior, to reconcile “a fervent attachment to Republican government and an
enlightened view of the dangerous propensities against which it ought to be
guarded” (Federalist No. 49, p. 312).
One feels in this document a crucial tension between an awareness of
how we human beings, individually and in groups, can be egoistic, violent,
shortsighted and irrational, while at the same time we have the capacity to
be practical and rational, and motivated by moral and ethical ideals. It is
the willingness to struggle with this full range of human potentiality, good
and bad, which contributes to the greatness and depth of the authors’ un-
derstanding. At times, during their careful delineation and defense of the
constitutional safeguards erected against human frailty, the authors appear
to need to remind themselves and their critics of the positive aspects of
human nature and of their democratic ideals:
As there is a degree of depravity in mankind which requires a certain degree of
circumspection and distrust, so there are other qualities in human nature which justify
P1: vendor
a certain portion of esteem and confidence. Republican government presupposes the

existence of these qualities in a higher degree than any other form. Were the pictures
which had been drawn by the political jealousy of some among us faithful likeness
of the human character, the inference would be that there is not sufficient virtue
among men for self government; and that nothing less than the chains of despotism
can restrain them from destroying and devouring one another. (Federalist No. 55,
p. 339)
In remaining aware of the capacities for good and evil in human life,
Jay, Madison and Hamilton were not simply concerned with outlining a
human psychology. Their purpose in keeping such issues in constant focus
was to design a government which would take account of this full range
of behavior and provide the best possible structure for promoting human
welfare. They were concerned not only with the dangers springing from
narrow interests and irrational factions, but with the dangers inherent both
in the democratic process—the tyranny of the majority—and from those who
govern:
In framing a government in which is to be administered by men over men, the great
difficulty lies in this: you must first enable the government to control the governed;
and in the next place oblige it to control itself. (Federalist No. 52, p. 320)
PSYCHOLOGICAL POSTULATES
Incorporated into this broad understanding of the human condition is a

sophisticated awareness of individual and group psychology. At the individ-
ual level, emphasis is placed on narcissism as driving the leaders of factions;
there are frequent references to ambition, self-love, needs for power beyond
the necessity for power, narrow self-interest, and the animosities that spring
from narcissistic rage. Hamilton describes opposition based on narcissistic
slights:
Men often oppose a thing merely because they have had no agency in planning
it, or because it may have been planned by those whom they dislike . . . they seem
to think themselves bound in honor, and by all the motives of personal infallibility, to
defeat the success of what has been resolved upon contrary to their sentiment . . . to
what desperate length this disposition is sometimes carried, and how often the great
interests of society are sacrificed to the vanity, to the conceit, and to the obstinacy
of individuals . . . melancholy proofs of the effects of this despicable frailty, or rather
detestable vice, in the human character. (Federalist No. 70, p. 404–405)
Hamilton was aware of how narcissistic leaders may manipulate groups:

. . . the arts of men, who flatter their prejudices to betray their interests. It is a just
observation that the people commonly intend the PUBLIC GOOD. This often applies
to their very errors. But their good sense would despise the adulator who should
pretend that they always reason right about the means of promoting it. They know
from experience that they sometimes err; and the wonder is that they so seldom err
as they do, beset as they continually are by the wiles of parasites and sycophants, by
P1: vendor
360 Swogger
the sneers of the ambitious, the avaricious, the desperate, by the artifices of men who
possess their confidence more than they deserve it, and of those who seek to possess
rather than deserve it. (Federalist No. 71, p. 410)
Hamilton also described the narcissistic grandiosity which can manifest itself
at a group level in legislative bodies:
The representatives of the people, in a popular assembly, seem sometimes to fancy
that they are the people themselves, and betray strong symptoms of impatience and
disgust at the least sign of opposition from any other quarter . . . (Federalist No. 71,
p. 410–411)
Madison describes the loss of personal responsibility which can occur in

groups:
Being at once exempt from the restraint of an individual responsibility for the acts
of the body, and deriving confidence from mutual example and joint influence, unau-
thorized measures would, of course, be more freely hazarded . . . (Federalist No. 48,
p. 312)
I have previously alluded to the need for groups to define boundaries and
enemies. As Madison put it, groups may:
. . . split into two fixed and violent parties . . . in all questions, however unimportant
in themselves, or unconnected with each other, the same names stand invariably
contrasted on the opposite columns . . . unfortunately, passion, not reason, must have
presided over their decisions. When men exercise their reason cooly and freely on a
variety of distinct questions, they inevitably fall into different opinions on some of
them. When they are governed by a common passion, their opinions, if they are so
to be called, will be the same. (Federalist No. 50, p. 317)
The authors of The Federalist Papers also noted the influence of the size
of a group on emotional contagion and decision making. In general, they
believed that there was an optimal size in a decision making body, of sev-
eral dozen. Less than this did not “secure the benefits of free consulta-
tion and discussion,” and more led to what we would call a large group
phenomena:
Had every Athenian citizen been a Socrates, every Athenian assembly would still
have been a mob. (Federalist No. 50, p. 336)
. . . The more numerous any assembly may be, of whatever characters composed,
the greater is known to be the ascendancy of passion over reason. (Federalist No. 58,
p. 351)
Madison and Hamilton also made a number of observations about psycho-

logical dynamics at a societal level. In the context of the Constitutional
debates, for which their essays were written, they were very aware of the
need for the government, and for those who govern, to have popular re-
spect and support. At the same time, they were faced with the intense
anxiety and fearfulness of their opponents about the authority assumed by
P1: vendor
the government, about the dangerousness of leaders, and the possibility

that something might go wrong in the new republic. There were conspiracy
theories, rumors that the Constitution was a plot to destroy state govern-
ments and that George Washington would be made king. They were aware
of the corrosive effect on political institutions of compulsive distrust and
cynicism:
. . . an indiscriminate and unbounded jealousy (suspicion), with which all reasoning
must be vain. The sincere friends of liberty who give themselves up to the extrav-
agances of this passion are not aware of the injury that they do their own cause.
(Federalist No. 56, p. 339)
HUMAN AUTONOMY AS A VALUE
The Federalist also makes a fundamental assertion about human auton-

omy and participation in political life. In arguing for a government which
is in every aspect ultimately dependent on the people and their choices, it
is not asserted that the choices made, either individually or collectively, will
always reflect the public good. Indeed, great efforts are made to expose the
pitfalls of direct democracy and to structure the government in such a way
as to guard against the tyranny of majorities against minorities. Nor is it
asserted that the proposed Constitution is the most efficient way of satis-
fying the interests of individuals and groups involved in political activity.
In fact, as has been described, these interests may be at times inimical to
the public good or the rights of others. In addition, as Mansfield (1991) has
pointed out, many interests may be satisfied while robbing people of their
freedom, or by an authoritarian government. But Epstein (1984) has shown
in his careful analysis of The Federalist that Madison and Hamilton assert
the value of popular government by appealing to the inherent value of polit-
ical activity itself. Political activity involves consent, choice and participation
in the decisions which affect one’s life. It involves a recognition of the dig-
nity of human autonomy. The authors refer again and again to “honor”: a
government by force and without consent insults “men’s honorable wish
to choose for themselves” (Epstein, Page 16). The pride and passion with
which people assert their political opinions is a fundamental dimension of
their nature as human beings. Pride in the human capacity for self asser-
tion leads Hamilton to hope that the Constitutional experiment will reveal
“whether societies of men are really capable or not of establishing good
government from reflection and choice” (The Federalist No. 1). Here liberty
means political liberty, as distinguished from private or civil liberty. People
are free when they engage in political life—not when they are merely left
alone.
P1: vendor
362 Swogger
Here as elsewhere in The Federalist, the emphasis is on the active fac-

ulties that people exercise in their political and private lives, not simply on
needs or government as the satisfaction of needs. In this light, Epstein points
out that one of the values of the stability provided by a government is that
“men rely on stability even when they disrupt it by their attempts to change
things . . . for individual private citizens, political stability is a condition under
which men may exert their own faculties in making changes for themselves”
(Epstein, 1984, Page 170). Similarly, Madison asserts that the abilities and
activities which people express when they are free are a prime value. “The
protection of these faculties is the first object of government” (Federalist
No. 10). The Federalist asserts the value of political participation, knowing
full well that it is a complex amalgam of pride, ambition, self interest, legiti-
mate interests and concerns, and dedication to the public good and the good
of the community.
HUMAN PSYCHOLOGY AND THE DESIGN OF GOVERNMENT
The authors of The Federalist Papers were not psychoanalytically ori-

ented organizational consultants. Nor were they therapists. They took human
nature, as they understood it, as a given, and tried to think through its impli-
cations for the design of government. The separation of powers, checks and
balances, the divided representative body, the role of the judiciary, etc., were
justified in terms of their theories of human nature and political behavior.
In general, they believed that each governmental unit, but in particular the
legislative body, had an inherent tendency to expand its power. To counter-
act this and retain the separateness of governmental functions, they sought
to enlist the self-interest of governmental leaders in protecting the integrity
of their own branch of government:
. . . Ambition must be made to counteract ambition. The interest of the man must be
connected with the constitutional rights of the place. It may be a reflection on human
nature that such devices should be necessary to control the abuses of government.
But what is government itself but the greatest of all reflections on human nature: If
men were angels, no government would be necessary. If angels were to govern men,
neither external nor internal controls on government would be necessary. (Federalist
No. 51, p. 319–320)
They also hoped to design a governmental decision making process

which delayed impulsive and irrevocable decisions, allowed the issue at hand
to be discussed by different branches of government from different perspec-
tives, and allowed judicial evaluation of the constitutionality of decisions
to prevent tyranny by the majority. Through these processes the clash of
interests might be transmuted into the public good.
P1: vendor
THE HISTORICAL CONTEXT
In the decades leading up to the American Revolution, those in the

colonies considered themselves part of the British Empire and shared with
their counterparts in the mother country a sense of national pride and supe-
riority about the virtues of English constitutional government. Indeed, the
history of the American Revolution is in part that of a series of events in
which an American majority in favor of continued political affiliation with
England was gradually pushed and provoked into rebellion. To some extent
the leaders of that rebellion saw themselves as asserting political principles
which their English cousins had developed and fostered, and then denied.
But even in this process of revolution, both the virtues of the English politi-
cal system and perceptions of its failures strongly colored American beliefs
about the essentials of constitutional government and its greatest dangers
(Bailyn, 1990, 1992; Morgan, 1992; Morrison, 1965; Wood, 1992).
Just as it is possible in America today to see current political themes
and problems as in part a reflection of the events of the American Civil War
140 years ago, so it is useful to try to envision the impact on the American
imagination and political understanding in 1787, at the time of the writing
of The Federalist Papers, to events in the preceding 180 years of English
political history. The resultant legacy was both powerful and contradictory.
Against the backdrop of the enormous social change and economic devel-
opment of the 17th century (Rosenberg & Birdzell, 1986) occurred intense
and violent political turmoil, leading to fundamental and stable political
reorganization. In short, the accession of Stuart King James I in 1603 was
followed by increasing monarchical tyranny and undermining of Parliamen-
tary function; revolution and Civil War entailing the execution of Charles I;
failed attempts at a purely parliamentary form of government; military dic-
tatorship; the restoration of monarchy under Charles II with an increasingly
defined and assertive role for Parliament; the collapse of these arrangements
in the face of efforts by Charles II and James II to reassert the divine rights
of Kings; and the frustration of James II’s efforts with the renewed threat of
civil war and his forced abdication, culminating in the “Glorious Revolution”
of 1689 in which William of Holland and his English wife Mary were invited
by Parliament to become constitutional monarchs, accompanied by the pas-
sage of the English Bill of Rights the same year. Intense political persecution
was an integral part of these events, which included the torture, mutilation
and execution of political leaders, Star Chamber proceedings, and military
repression and slaughter at various times and places in Scotland, Ireland
and England. Political conflicts were intertwined with intense religious di-
visions and persecution not only between Catholics and Protestants, but
with equal intensity and viciousness between Anglicans, Presbyterians, and
P1: vendor
364 Swogger
various non-conforming and dissenting Protestant groups including

Quakers, most of whom vied to gain control of state power and political
and military machinery in order to persecute and suppress those of other
religious persuasions. Given this panorama of human misery and political
difficulty, the joy, pride, and relief that the English felt by their deliverance
through the Glorious Revolution and their Constitution is understandable.
Americans shared this pride, but also shared the historical memory of the
violence and suffering that could be inflicted in the name of government and
religion. Indeed, significant portions of the American population were there
precisely because of their persecution in England as nonconforming Protes-
tants, Quakers, and Catholics (Ashley, 1961; Terry, 1908; Trevelyan, 1942).
Thus 17th century English politics was a full contact, blood sport. It is
not hard to understand the prominent place given in the political writings of
both Thomas Hobbes and John Locke to physical security, protection from
violence, and self preservation. Both delayed publication of some of their
political writings; Locke published his most important political works anony-
mously; and both had to flee for their lives into political exile because of their
writing and their political associations. Two other political theorists often
cited by American Colonists also suffered harsh fates: Algernon Sidney was
executed, and James Harrington’s imprisonment led to madness and death.
The American perception of events in England subsequent to the
Glorious Revolution included a preoccupation with governmental corrup-
tion, accentuated by the frequently absentminded and frivolous way in which
Colonial matters were settled, and the not infrequent incompetence of Colo-
nial administrators. For a considerable period of time prior to the American
Revolution, Americans perceived Parliament as the prime cause of their
difficulties, and looked upon King George as a kindly and benevolent fig-
ure who was either misinformed or insufficiently involved on their behalf.
Thus their perception was as much of parliamentary tyranny as of monar-
chical tyranny. According to Bailyn (1992, see esp. p. 34ff) another crucial
influence on American political thinking was the savage criticism of English
political corruption and betrayal of the ideals of the Glorious Revolution
by radical pamphleteers of the early 18th century, such as Trenchard and
Gordon, whose work circulated widely in the colonies.
The lack of pre-existing government in the Colonies and the benign
neglect of the mother country meant that in fact many Americans had
experienced almost 150 years of self-government at the time of the com-
ing of the American Revolution. This government was organized around
states and localities, and based on charters granted by the Crown (which in
two instances were converted directly into the constitutions of their respec-
tive states after the Revolution). Colonial self-government had existed long
enough for American political leaders not only to have first hand experience
P1: vendor
in democratic and representative forms of government, but to be very aware

of the problems and difficulties with these institutions. Americans had their
own experiences with religious intolerance and the establishment of
religion.
This capsule summary of a few key events in the complex history of
this period in America and Britain is given to suggest several background
elements influencing the psychodynamic assumptions of the designers of the
U.S. Constitution about political behavior and the structure of government.
The most important is the tremendous gap between ideal and reality. Bal-
ancing their pride in English constitutionalism and their egalitarian beliefs in
human nature and natural law was the awareness of American political lead-
ers of the dangers of governmental power and persecution, of the unbridled
ambitions of political leaders, and the dangers of majority and parliamentary
rule to religious and political freedom. That even constitutional governments
could fail and deteriorate was evidenced for them by the contrast between
the glory of the Glorious Revolution and their perception of corruption,
ineptness and tyranny of the current English Parliament. They thus felt a
need to design government structures which expressed and took account of
human aspirations and ideals, of capacities for lawful, public-spirited action,
while at the same time providing safeguards against the dangers known to
their experience.
THE PHILOSOPHICAL CONTEXT
The political turmoil of England in the 17th century was accompanied

by economic expansion in Europe as a whole, the continued consequences
of the Reformation and Renaissance, and the impact of the revolution in the
natural sciences. These events acted as a stimulus for new and radical thinking
about human psychology and political institutions, by Hobbes, Locke, Burke,
Voltaire, Montesquieu, Rousseau, Hume and Adam Smith, plus a host of
other thinkers now less well known.
My thinking in this section draws heavily upon two outstanding studies
of 17th and 18th century European thought, by Arthur Lovejoy (1961) and
Albert Hirschman (1977). Lovejoy explicitly discusses the theory of human
nature in the American Constitution and has an extensive analysis of the
concept of vanity and its variations and nuances. Hirschman analyses how
concepts of the passions, interests and vanity were woven by thinkers of that
era into a concept of a civilizing and beneficial effect of capitalism.
These thinkers attempted to apply rational and scientific approaches to
human affairs. Thomas Hobbes’ wide range of interests and travels included
a meeting with Galileo and familiarity with the work of Euclid and Kepler.
P1: vendor
366 Swogger
He published works on the nature of space, matter, perception and optics,

and sought to explain human nature and the state in terms of elementary
propositions derived from concepts of motion (Tuck, 1989, esp. p. 18–19).
John Locke began as a physician, worked with Sydenham, and became a
member of the Royal Society three years before Newton (Dunn, 1984).
Hobbes, Locke, and the other thinkers of this era looked at human be-
havior and institutions with fresh eyes. While in one way or another they
abandoned or modified traditional religious belief, they incorporated key
elements of their religious heritage into their new views. Religious intro-
spection became psychological observation, Hobbes for example comment-
ing in Leviathan that “the secret thoughts of a man run over all things, holy,
profane, clean, obscene, grave and light, without shame, or blame; which
verbal discourse cannot do . . .” (Part 1, Chapter 8) They developed secular
concepts of virtue based on natural law and reason. Their understanding of
“happiness” was not hedonism, but a happiness related to virtuous behavior.
And evil reappeared in their understanding of human depravity. The deep
religious introspection characteristic of the age carries over as a relentless
examination of hidden motives. Many Enlightenment writers show impres-
sive psychological-mindedness and sensitivity (The tightly controlled and
secretive Locke appears to be an exception.).
One finding that emerges from this study runs counter to the stereotype
of the Age of Enlightenment as a time of uncritical belief in reason and in
the goodness and virtue of the individual. To the contrary, most thinkers
of this period believed that human passions and human depravity usually
overwhelm the voice of reason, and that “reason” was often a rationalization
for self-interest and vanity. Their problem in the design of government was to
bring frequently irrational and self-serving individuals and groups to act for
the common good, or at least not to tyrannize society through the mechanism
of government (Gay, 1969, esp. p. 563–568).
An example of rational analysis of irrational passion in the political
arena is found in Thomas Hobbes’ Behemoth or the Long Parliament, his
history of the English Civil War, an event which occurred during Hobbes’ life-
time and led to his exile in France. In Behemoth, Hobbes catalogued the mali-
ciousness, spite, and emotionally driven shortsightedness of all actors in that
drama. He highlighted the manipulation of religious belief, instances when
passionate involvement overcame self-interest, the self-fulfilling prophecies
of political leaders, and how the gullibility of the people was exploited by
preachers and priests who conned them with “words not intelligible.” The
people mistake “boldness of affirmation” for proof of the thing affirmed. In
groups, individuals will lose their capacity for independent thinking, “pas-
sionately carried away” by “the stream” of public opinion. Aggression and
cruelty go beyond a strategy for the maximization of self-interest; they may
P1: vendor
involve envy, malice and covetousness, and a hatred people experience of

anyone “whom they have hurt.” Hobbes analyzed the political importance
of emotionally loaded words, positive and negative. “King” “traitor” and
“tyranny” pushed buttons and motivated political action when successfully
applied to trivial and irrelevant events. One recent editor of Hobbes’ works,
from whom these examples are taken, comments:
Hobbes’ preoccupation with the sources of human irrationality clashes rudely with
the rational—actor approach that many commentators project into his works. De-
spite a few memorable and citable passages, he did not conceive of man as an eco-
nomic animal . . . indeed, the notion that human beings are, by nature, relentless
pursuers of their own advantage conflicts wildly with Behemoth’s fabulous chron-
icle of human folly, Impulsiveness and compulsions, hysterical frenzy and aimless
drifting—these are more characteristic of mankind’s history than eye-on-the-ball
purposiveness thoughtful self-preservation, or the sober cultivation of material in-
terests. (Holmes, 1990, p. 125, 123)
In Leviathan, Hobbes ascribes conflict in the state of nature to a competitive

drive for superiority, not just in the service of physical self preservation and
security of property, but from a variety of other motives based on vanity:
For every man looks that his companion should value him, at the same rate he sets
upon himself . . . for reputation . . . for trifles, as a word, a smile, a different opinion.
(Leviathan, Part 1, Ch. 13)
Seventeenth and eighteenth century thinkers believed that the dominant

irrational, unconscious passion motivating behavior was Pride, also variously
termed vanity, the passion for distinction, fame, glory, and superiority. They
did not always clearly delineate internal needs for self esteem from what John
Adams (1790) called “the passion for distinction . . . the desire to be observed,
considered, esteemed, praised, beloved, and admired by his fellows” (p. 26).
Adams goes on to describe the permutations of the passion for distinction,
such as emulation, ambition, jealousy, envy, and vanity. He adds, “The desire
of the esteem of others is as real a want of nature as hunger—and the neglect
and contempt of the world as severe a pain, as the gout or stone. It sooner and
oftener produces despair, and a detestation of existence . . . (p. 28) In part
stemming from religious introspection, in which the value of a virtuous act
was based on its motives, an intense search for the hidden motives of behavior
led to the belief that virtuous acts, even heroic self sacrifice and humility
itself, were but subtle manifestations of vanity. Some thinkers gave this a
positive meaning and believed that virtuous public and political behavior
could appropriately be accompanied by pride and by public distinction, and
that the need for the approval of others was the mechanism for the education
and support of altruistic behavior; as will be discussed later, their descriptions
of this bear some resemblance to modern concepts of the ego ideal. It was
thought that structural arrangements in government would allow the pride
P1: vendor
368 Swogger
and self interest of office holders to defend the legitimate prerogatives of

their branch of government against the incursions of other governmental
functions led by equally proud and self-interested individuals. Thus John
Adams could say regarding the passion for distinction “it is the principle
end of government to regulate this passion, which in its turn becomes a
principle means of government” (Adams, 1790, p. 28).
Although John Adams was not present at the drafting of the U.S. Con-
stitution, he had a major role in its design, including his earlier efforts in
preparing the first draft of the Massachusetts Constitution in 1779–1780.
In addition, Adams is perhaps the most introspective and psychologically
minded of the political thinkers of this era (Shaw, 1976; Ellis, 1993). His life-
long struggle with, and ambivalence about, his own ambitions and his own
intense desire for public recognition, were reflected in his political thinking.
The influence of his Puritan heritage on Adams exemplifies Kohut’s the-
sis about the fundamental Christian ambivalence in regard to self-love and
self-assertion (Kohut, 1985). Adams believed that virtuous and talented in-
dividuals who sought political power were inevitably ambitious and sought
also public acclaim, recognition, and honors. The same individuals were in-
evitably prone to excessive vanity and ambition, and to “Avarice . . . Craft,
Cunning, Intrigue” (cited in Shaw, p. 198). Adams studied history extensively
and considered a whole range of governmental structures and policies which
might help cope with “the ordinary illusions of self-love and self-interest”
(Adams, 1787, in Peck, 1954, p. 141). Adams also described narcissism at the
group and societal level, detailing the consequences of “national vanity or
national pride” (cited in Shaw, p. 177, 203. See also Adams, 1790) and the
group dynamics of legislative bodies, which are:
. . . subject to fits of humor, starts of passion, flights of enthusiams, partialities, or
prejudice—and consequently productive of hasty results and absurd judgments . . .
(and which) in time will not scruple to exempt itself from burdens which it will lay
without compunction on its constituents . . . (the legislature is) apt to grow ambitious
and after a time will not hesitate to vote itself perpetual.” (Adams, 1776, in Peck,
1954, p. 87. See also p. 140–141)
Adams saw the passion for distinction as both natural, acceptable and useful,
and at the same time potentially pathological and destructive. The emphasis
that Adams, Madison and Hamilton placed on the psychodynamics of leg-
islative bodies is an exception to Alford’s (1994) belief that earlier political
theorists did not consider group psychology.
It should be noted that although this era and its thinkers are generally
believed to articulate concepts of individualism, their understanding of the
need for responsiveness and approval from others as a central dynamic in
human motivation gives their thinking a distinct and complex interpersonal
quality. Thus John Adams:
P1: vendor
Men, in their primitive conditions, however savage, were undoubtedly gregarious-

and they continued to be social, not only in every stage of civilization, but in every
possible situation in which they can be placed. As nature intended them for society,
she has furnished them with passions, appetites, and propensities; as well as a variety
of faculties, calculated both for their individual enjoyment, and to render them useful
to each other in their social connections. (Adams, 1790, p. 25)
This theme is also prominent in the work of David Hume and Adam Smith,
whose 18th century writings were familiar to John Adams and the authors
of The Federalist Papers. Haraszti (1952) has shown that Adams’ reflec-
tions on human vanity are based on Smith’s Theory of Moral Sentiments
(1759). A central concept in Smith’s psychology is “sympathy,” which is akin
to modern concepts of empathy and partial identification: “This propen-
sity makes us enter deeply into each other’s sentiments, and causes like
passions to run, as it were by contagion . . .” (cited Lovejoy, p. 258–
259)
Smith describes a “principle of self-approbation and self-disapproba-
tion,” which is combined with a need to feel worthy of the praise of others:
We can never survey our own sentiments and motives, we can never form any judg-
ment concerning them, unless we remove ourselves, as it were, from our own natural
station, and endeavor to view them as at a certain distance from us. That we can do
this in no other way than by endeavoring to view them with the eyes of other people,
or as other people are likely to view them. (Theory of Moral Sentiments, Part III,
Ch. 1, p. 203–4)
In similar fashion, Hume, in An Enquiry Concerning the Principles of Morals,

talks about the:
love of fame . . . By our continual and earnest pursuit of a character, a name, a
reputation in the world, we bring our own deportment and conduct frequently in
review, and consider how they appear in the eyes of those who approach and regard
us. This constant habit of surveying ourselves, as it were, in reflection, keeps alive all
the sentiments of right and wrong . . . our regard to a character with others seems to
arise only from a care of preserving a character with ourselves; and in order to attain
this end, we find it necessary to prop our tottering judgment on the correspondent
approbation of mankind. (p. 114–115)
Hume sees this not as a defect, but as a key mechanism through which socially
valuable behavior is supported:
. . . The virtuous are far from being indifferent to praise; and therefore they have
been represented as a set of vain-glorious men, who had nothing in view but the
applauses of others. But this . . . is a fallacy. It is very unjust in the world, when they
find any tincture of vanity in a laudable action, to depreciate it upon this account,
or ascribe it entirely to that motive. (Philosophical Essays on Morals, Literature and
Politics, cited in Lovejoy, p. 185–186.
Hume attacked the constricted and reductionistic notion of self-love that

was fashionable at that time:
P1: vendor
370 Swogger
I esteem the man whose self-love, by whatever means, is so directed as to give him a
concern for others, and render him serviceable to society: as I hate or despise him,
who has no regard to any thing beyond his own gratifications and enjoyments. (An
Enquiry Concerning the Principles of Morals, p. 139)
Thus the conception of the individual in the 18th century was distinctly
interpersonal. Individuals were not seen as isolated entities motivated by
passion; rather their dominant need for social confirmation was thought to
lead to the internalization of group norms and the possibility of either vain or
virtuous behavior. So deep was this need that “happiness” included “virtue;”
passions were tamed and channeled into public life and service, and social,
or governmental structures were seen as necessary for personal happiness
and fulfillment.
The idea of utilizing organizational structures to control and balance ir-
rational passions for useful and virtuous ends also derived from the 18th
century concept of counterpoise, the belief that it is possible to accom-
plish desirable results by balancing potentially harmful passions against one
another.
In part, counterpoise reflected a conception of human nature as a New-
tonian outcome of vectors; in addition, it offered a secular concept of virtue,
derived from an introspective awareness of human motives. The concept
of counterpoise was also developed in relation to the concept of interests.
In the period leading up to the design of the Constitution, the meaning of
“interest” was “by no means limited to the material aspects of a person’s
welfare; rather, it comprised the totality of human aspirations, but denoted
an element of reflection and calculation with respect to the manner in which
these aspirations were to be pursued” (Hirschman, 1977). Thus a democratic
governmental organization as an arena for expression of interests could also
be designed, through appropriate structures of government, as a mecha-
nism through which emotionally driven and self-serving interests might be
tempered, delayed and balanced so as to mitigate the likelihood of harm-
ful decisions, and increase the possibility of decisions reflecting the public
interest. It was also hoped that the diversity of interests represented in the
political process would work to prevent the tyranny of majorities.
PSYCHOANALYTIC PERSPECTIVES
Any attempt to understand the theory of human nature embodied in the

U.S. Constitution from a psychodynamic perspective immediately confronts
serious methodological problems. How can we understand the thoughts and
feelings of those in another time, another historical and philosophical con-
text, even when written in the “same” language? In addition, the creation of
P1: vendor
the Constitution involved major compromises and concessions to divergent

interests. Its ratification was the product of intense debate, of many conflict-
ing views and voices. Whose do we select as defining “the” meaning of the
Constitution?
Rakove (1997), in a book-length exploration of the problem of assigning
original meanings to the Constitution, distinguishes textual and contextual
approaches. His contextual approaches subsume the historical and philo-
sophical dimensions described in this paper, although with somewhat differ-
ent emphasis and conclusions. His comprehensive textual analysis highlights
The Federalist, while considering a much wider range of texts than are exam-
ined here. My selection of texts has reflected a bias toward those of particular
interest and clarity from a psychodynamic perspective.
It is perhaps worthwhile in reflecting on the problem of understanding
historical sources to consider a comment by Thomas Hobbes in his Elements
of Law, Natural and Politic, written in 1640:
Though words be the signs we have of one another’s opinions and intentions, yet,
because the equivocation of them is so frequent according to the diversity of con-
texture, and of the company wherewith they go (which the presence of him that
speaketh, our sight of his actions, and conjecture of his intentions, must help to dis-
charge us of): it must be extreme hard to find out the opinions and meanings of those
men that are gone from us long ago, and have left no other signification thereof
but their books; which cannot possibly be understood without history enough to
discover those aforementioned circumstances, and also without great prudence to
observe them. (Thomas Hobbes, The Elements of Law, Natural and Politic I.13.8,
1640)
Hobbes begins with an observation that will be familiar to practicing psy-

chodymanically oriented clinicians: It is difficult enough to “conjecture of
the intentions” of another even when we are in their presence and are aided
by non-verbal cues; it is even more difficult when we have nothing but written
materials. He offers the hope that with sufficient attention to historical con-
text and “great prudence,” the gap in understanding may be closed. Hobbes’
claim, and our hopes in this matter, are strengthened by the clarity and rele-
vance of what he had to say 360 years ago to our current problem. Just as we
can understand what Hobbes is saying, our hopes for being able to under-
stand the theoretical perspective of writers like Madison, Adams, and others
of this time, are strengthened by the clarity and vividness of their prose. De-
spite what appear to us at times as arcane and cumbersome phrases, writers
of the 17th and 18th century are impressive in the power and perceptive-
ness of their thought, and indeed in the ease with which the issues that they
identify can be related to our current concerns, and to our understanding of
behavior and motivation in public and organizational life.
This congruence raises an interesting question. In the effort to look
at Enlightenment psychology and its application to the Constitution in the
P1: vendor
372 Swogger
light of current psychoanalytic thinking, are we attempting with our “new

concepts” to reinterpret something “old,” or have the “new” concepts of the
17th and 18th century become “old” as they transmogrified over the course
of history into psychoanalytic thinking? Put another way, did psychoanalysis
reinvent, in a deeper, expanded and more systematic form, what had been
expressed in more fragmentary form before? Is psychoanalysis itself part of
an historical tradition that flows from the Enlightenment and from the reli-
gious introspection of the Reformation? While the answer to this question
is beyond the scope and focus of this paper, I mention it here to suggest that
the continuity, if it exists, may provide a rationale for examining the simi-
larities and differences between present and past understandings of human
behavior. Are there some perspectives and insights which might be currently
valuable to us, that have inadvertently become extinct in the evolution of
past to present?
I have presented examples of the introspectiveness and psychological
mindedness of 17th and 18th century thinkers. As they relate to political
and economic matters, these thinkers tend to be more concerned with the
relation of motives to behavior, and less preoccupied with the unconscious
processes and relationship of affects and motives to fantasy, than we in our
clinical and group relations work are inclined to be. Perhaps because of the
fact that they did not start with a clinical perspective, and did not see indi-
vidual or group health as a goal, the authors of the Constitution “did not so
much preach to Americans about what they ought to do, as to predict suc-
cessfully what they would do, supposing certain governmental mechanisms
were (or were not) established” (Lovejoy, 1961). They attempted to estab-
lish organizational roles, functions and boundaries which would be effective
and productive in terms of the givens of human nature as they understood
them.
The paradoxes of Federalist thought about government mentioned ear-
lier reflect an awareness of the complex and conflicted nature of individ-
uals, groups and societies. Madison and Hamilton did not elaborate their
insights as a theory, but used them ad hoc to justify the structures of the
Consitution and promote its ratification. White (1987) has done a care-
ful exegesis of The Federalist, and an analysis of antecedent philosophical
and psychological thinkers, in order to outline its psychological assump-
tions. Briefly stated, Federalist psychology involves a dynamic interaction
between reason, passions and interests. Reason includes ethical precepts
and moral values. Passions involve a variety of motives and impulses of dif-
ferent strengths, which may be in conflict with each other as well as with
the dictates of reason. The voice of reason is seen as often overwhelmed
by the passions, but able through perseverance and understanding to assert
itself over time. Passion allies itself with self interest, which ranges from
P1: vendor
narrow, short-sighted goals driven by pathological narcissism, to what might

be called enlightened self interest, incorporating the interests of family,
community and larger social units, tempered by ideals and rational plan-
ning. As Hirschman has emphasized, writers of this time saw the rational
pursuit of self interest as taming and making more socially useful its un-
derlying passions. In this broader sense, interests may be opposed to other
passions.
There are fundamental similarities between Federalist psychology and
psychoanalytic postulates that view mental life as the product of several
mental agencies or structures, which are inherently conflictual. The lack of
time dimension and the momentary power of passions in relation to reason
is echoed in the concept of the unconscious and Freud’s ruminations about
the “still small voice” of the ego and of reason. Federalist psychology utilized
a structural model of human functioning which has some similarities to psy-
choanalytic structural theory: People are capable of practical and realistic
planning and action, which can be embodied in social structures, most evi-
dent in the design of the Constitution itself. Passions can overcome reason
in both individuals and groups. The interpersonal concept of the individual
embodied in The Federalist also encompasses ego ideals, which transcend
narrow personal or local interests, and contemplate wider social and gener-
ational boundaries.
Concern with political activity, factions, and the relationship of individ-
uals and groups to the offices and structure of government, led the authors
of The Federalist to elaborate a sophisticated understanding of group dy-
namics. Their understanding encompassed the importance of group bound-
aries; the narcissism of minor differences; the loss of super ego functions
and personal responsibility which can occur in groups; the potential de-
structive power of irrational group processes; the narcissistic grandiosity
of which gtroups are capable; and the impact of size on group irrational-
ity. The central role given “the passion for distinction” links individuals
to groups and group psychodynamics. In legislative groups, impulsive deci-
sion making based on transient inclinations and emotionally-driven con-
cerns can be transformed into concern for wider social boundaries and
longer time spans of responsibility. But thought and decision making can
also be dominated by emotionally driven processes that involve promitive
forms of narcissism, splitting, irrational thinking, and group contagion. In-
dividual and group interests are legitimate, and it is the purpose of demo-
cratic governments to reflect them; but interests taken collectively are also
problematic, and can be perverted in all the ways that the Federalists fore-
saw. The Federalists used the term “faction” to describe group political be-
havior dominated by narrow interests, primitive splitting, and narcissistic
leadership.
P1: vendor
374 Swogger
CONSTITUTIONAL SPACE
Winnicott’s (1951, 1958, Davis & Wallbridge, 1981) concept of transi-

tional space is useful in understanding the psychological dimensions of the
design of the legislative process. Transitional space is a context, within a
relationship or group of relationships, which provides a sense of security
and allows a child or indeed a person of any age to act as if what they were
doing was play and without further consequences, while at the same time
exploring ideas, metaphors and behaviors which ultimately will be of rel-
evance in the world of interpersonal relationships and social institutions.
For Winnicott, transitional space plays a crucial role in the creative and
productive life of adults (1968, 1971). The space thus created shares with
the transitional object the experience of safety in the process of exploring
something new.
The legislative process constitutes a transitional space in the political
arena, which I will call a constitutional space. This process includes the two
legislative branches of Congress, the Executive, and the Judiciary, and the
process of decision making and review, as legislation proceeds through these
various governmental structures and in their interaction with each other.
The process of a law proposed, debated, and amended as it proceeds through
one branch of Congress and then the other, and often back again and in joint
committees, and then proceeding to the Executive for signature or veto, and
then subject to review by the court, is a complex series of events extending
over time. The outcome, and the exact path taken by a specific piece of
legislation through this process, is indeterminate.
Supporters and critics of these arrangements established by the Consti-
tution sometimes see this complex legislative process as simply a deliberate
effort to make legislative action difficult, to artificially induce gridlock, and
indeed perhaps to subvert the popular will. There is some support for this
view in the many statements of the designers of the Constitution of their
wish to prevent impulsive decision making governed by the dominance of
passion, tyrannical majority, and/or powerful factions led by ambitious and
unscrupulous leaders. It was their hope that these inevitable inputs into
the democratic decision making process, geared as it is to represent the in-
terests and to effect the participation of citizens and lawmakers, would be
transmuted by the legislative process through a process of reflection and
reconsideration into legislation which furthered the general and aggregate
interest of the nation—the public interest. They hoped that the complex
process which they designed would allow wiser, more dispassionate, more
principled individuals within the government to exert their influence to this
effect. While it is certainly possible to see this process as a process designed
for delay, I think it is clear that their understanding encompassed not simply
P1: vendor
delay, but delay of impulsive decision making in the service of refining, and
ultimately improving, the decisions made through the legislative process.
The constitutional space embodied in the legislative process allows
those participating to express their views fully, however extreme; to inter-
act with others; to clash and conflict; and to receive feedback and criticism,
without the danger of moving immediately to action. It facilitates both the
expression and the rendering harmless of other agendas indirectly relevant
to the legislative purpose: expressing grievances that reflect the legislator’s
constituency; posturing for that constituency; playing out personal rivalries
and ambitions within the Congress; and protecting the image of different
parties or political groupings within the Congress. The legislative process
serves as a forum for all to “have their say.” Along with all the rhetoric, a
process of filtering out claims and counterclaims, of seeing what arguments
and concerns are valid and realistic and which are exaggerated and unsub-
stantiated, can take place as well.
Rakove’s (1997) description of the making of the Constitution itself
(Chapter 9, “Creating the Presidency”) describes in detail three distinct
phases in the evolution of the concept of the Presidency during the
Constitutional Convention. In these phases, a whole range of proposals in-
volving the nature of the role of the President, how the President would be
elected, the length of the President’s term of office, the specific powers that
the President would have in relation to the Senate and to the government as
a whole, and a wide variety of other issues, were debated. Various proposals
outlining the President’s role were approved and later rescinded. Sometimes
the Constitutional Convention came to an impasse, and referred a problem
to a committee, postponing a decision for the moment. Deep-seated fears
and historical memories about the dangers of establishing a monarchy or
an aristocracy were expressed and tested against the realities of the role
envisioned, so far as it could be envisioned. Fears of a President being too
powerful and becoming tyrannical, or conversely, too weak and unable to
lead foreign policy or manage the defense of the country, were expressed and
tested. It is clear that this whole process was very necessary, had a timetable
all its own, and was ultimately productive.
One important feature of this process was a strict vow of confidentiality
given by the participants in the Constitutional Convention regarding the
nature of their deliberations. Although this vow increased the paranoia of
the populace at large, it appears to have been essential for their deliberations.
With very few exceptions this vow was not broken in the years during and
immediately after the completion of the Constitutional Convention. It would
appear to me that the participants in the Constitutional Convention gave
themselves a “space” with which to conduct these deliberations, sufficient
time, and the security of confidentiality, and that this allowed the emergence
P1: vendor
376 Swogger
of their wisdom and creativity. This space allowed members to change their
minds, to tentatively accept a proposal and see where it would lead, and to
reflect and reconsider a proposal. It is easier to change your mind about a
legislative proposal when you have not broadcast your initial position to the
world.
The Constitutional Convention succeeded in establishing a constitu-
tional space, a space for productive, creative and wise decision making in
the Legislative process. In a sense, it might be thought of as a prototype of
what the framers hoped for in Congressional deliberations.
VANITY AND NARCISSISM
We can reflect on the predominant role of narcissism in the politi-

cal thought of the 18th century in light of current psychoanalytic thinking
about the relationship of leaders and groups. Despite their theoretical dif-
ferences, both Kohut (1985, see also Elson, 1987) and Kernberg (1991, 1998)
have given narcissism a central role in the reciprocal dynamics of leader
and group in political situations. Just as Adams, Kohut emphasizes the co-
existence of positive and negative dimensions of narcissistic dynamics in
public life:
. . . role of narcissism in the public realm: as a spur for constructive planning and
collaborative action, if integrated with and subordinate to social and cultural pur-
poses; and as a source of sterile dissension and destructive conflict, if in the service
of unneutralized ambition or of rationalized rage (1985, p. 51)
Both Kernberg and Kohut emphasize the mutual seduction and regressive
pull of narcissistic tendencies in leaders and groups. Kernberg speaks of the
leader’s need for a healthy level of narcissism, realistic paranoia, talent, com-
petence, professional sentience, and moral values, along with appropriate
organizational structures, in resisting narcissistic regression and corruption.
He also discusses—and this is indirectly related to the framers’ concern with
balance in government—the need for an appropriate level of power and
authority in relation to the task at hand for the leadership of various organi-
zational structures. Kernberg also emphasizes the importance of appropriate
organizational structures generally in preventing regressive tendencies, just
as the designers of the Constitution sought to structure a legislative process
which would act to prevent impulsive group decisions made under the sway
of ambitious and talented leaders.
It is interesting to note that Kernberg, Kohut, and Rangell, psycho-
analysts who have been among the most thoughtful and productive in con-
tributing to our understanding of organizational dynamics, all start with their
P1: vendor
experience of leadership roles in psychoanalytic organizations. Kohut (1985,

p. 53) reflects on how minor narcissistic slights may become transformed into
intractable theoretical schisms (paralleling Hamilton’s observations of polit-
ical opposition based on the same dynamics). Rangell’s reflections (1974) on
the splits occurring within psychoanalytic organizations led him to an inter-
est in political phenomena. His study of Nixon and Watergate led him to the
concept of the “compromise of integrity.” He comments, “In the neuroses
the id is sacrificed; in psychosis, reality; in compromise of integrity, the su-
perego gives.” The conflict between the ego and the superego which results
in a compromise of integrity is propelled by “uncontrollable and unsatis-
fied narcissism. Subsumed under the latter are “the totality of ego interests
. . . .” Rangell concludes, in tones reminiscent of John Adams, “Narcissism
unbridled is the enemy of integrity.”
SOBER OPTIMISM
There is a contrast between current tendencies to take a normative and

even at times utopian perspective with regard to organizational function-
ing, and efforts at organizational design based on a quite sober assessment
of human nature. There is a central tension in The Federalist between the
authors’ realistic awareness of “a degree of depravity in mankind which re-
quires a certain degree of circumspection and distrust” and “other qualities
in human nature which justifies a certain portion of esteem and confidence.”
This tension between the dark side of human passion and irrationality,
and the high hopes and momentous ideals of the American Revolution,
animates the authors as they attempt to outline a constitution which pays
serious attention to both poles. This attitude parallels the tension in Freud’s
thought between enlightenment optimism and faith in reason, and his aware-
ness of human failings. Lear (1998) has explored the polarity of a Freud who
is “himself filled with Enlightenment optimism that the problems posed by
the unconscious can be solved . . . (but) weary about the dark side of the
human soul and pessimistic about doing much to alleviate psychological
pain.” Lear goes on to elaborate the political implications of this polarity:
“. . . we see a vision emerge of how one might take both human irrationality
seriously and participate in a democratic ideal. If the source of irrationality
lies within, rather than outside, the human realm, the possibility opens up
of a responsible engagement with it.” (p. 31) This observation is strikingly
congruent with the vision of The Federalist presented here. We might also
speculate that the capacity of the authors of The Federalist to keep both of
these dimensions in mind reflects some working through of the depressive
position as described by Klein (1964).
P1: vendor
378 Swogger
THE CONCEPT OF INTERESTS
Because so much of the work of psychoanalytically oriented practi-

tioners takes place in clinical or group relations settings, and so much of
our theory is derived from these sources, it may be the case that we have
not fully integrated economic and organizational interests, as well as social
ideals, into our thinking. We may have a tendency to reduce problems to
relational and psychodynamic issues, rather than to take sufficiently into ac-
count the reality and motivation of real world commitments, interests and
problems. In this sense, I believe that a study of The Federalist Papers may
provoke some new thinking on our part about how we can deal with the
reality, and the validity, of diverse interests, without ourselves descending
into scapegoating, excessive moralizing, and Utopian thinking.
The concept of interests does not seem to have a parallel in a psychoan-
alytic theory. Interests are overdetermined, representing planful behavior
related not only to external realities but to multiple levels of the psyche.
Purely economic goals are not interests but abstractions. They become in-
terests when they are clothed with pride, ambition, group and social ideals,
and purposes. Ego ideals may be expressed as dreams and utopias; they may
be articulated comprehensively as ideologies; but when they are expressed in
political actions of individuals and groups they become interests, and become
amalgamated with other levels of the psyche. Intensely felt personal needs,
when expressed are passions, or when enacted, impulses; but when passions
organize behavior over time in the pursuit of goals, they too become interests.
The concept of interests may be used as a bridging concept to relate individ-
ual and group needs and purposes to organizational roles, the primary task of
an organization, and the functions of organizational and political structures.
Working backwards, interests may be analyzed in terms of their con-
tributing components. The question, “What are this person’s (or group’s)
interests?” becomes an analytic tool. The concept of interests can be a non-
judgmental approach to understanding participation in organizational pro-
cesses. Like ego functions, interests attempt to be adapative and can be as-
sessed in terms of their success in achieving understandable and worthwhile
human goals. Like narcissism, they are both an essential and healthy com-
ponent of everyday life, and a possible source of difficulty when expressed
in primitive and distorted form.
REFERENCES
Adams, J. (1765–1814). In G. A. Peek, Jr. (Ed.), The political writings of John Adams.
Indianapolis, IN: Bobbs-Merrill (1954).
P1: vendor
Adams, J. (1790). Discourses on Davila: A series of papers on political history. New York:
DaCapo Press, 1973.
Alford, C. F. (1994). Group psychology and political theory, New Haven, CT: Yale University
Press.
Ashley, M. (1961). England in the seventeenth century (1603–1714). Baltimore: Penguin Books.
Bailyn, B. (1992). The ideological origins of the American revolution. Cambridge, MA: Belknap
Press.
Bailyn, B. (1990). Faces of revolution: Personalities and themes in the struggle for American
independence. New York: Alfred A. Knopf.
Davis, M., & Wallbridge, D. (1981). Boundary and space: An introduction to the work of D. W.
Winnicott. New York: Brunner/Mazel.
Dunn, J. (1984). Locke. New York: Oxford University Press.
Ellis, J. (1993). Passionate sage: The character and legacy of John Adams. New York: W. W.
Norton.
Elson, M. (Ed.). (1987). The Kohut seminars on self psychology and psychotherapy with children
and young adults. New York: W. W. Norton.
Epstein, D. (1984). The political theory of The Federalist. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.
Freud, S. (1921). Group psychology and the analysis of the ego. In J. Strachey, (Ed.), Standard
Edition of Works of Sigmund Freud, V. 18. London: Hogarth Press.
Gay, P. (1969). The enlightenment: An interpretation-The science of freedom. New York: Alfred
A. Knopf.
Hamilton, A., Jay, J., & Madison, J. (1788). The Federalist Papers. I. Kramnick (Ed.), New York:
Penguin.
Haraszti, Z. (1952). John Adams: The prophets of progress. Cambridge: Harvard University
Press.
Hirschman, A. O. (1977). The passions and the interests: Political arguments for capitalism before
its triumph. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press.
Hobbes, T. (1668). Behemoth or the long parliament. Ferdinand Tonnies (Ed.), London, 1889.
Reprinted with an Introduction by Stephen Holmes. Chicago: University of Chicago Press,
1990.
Hobbes, T. (1651). Leviathan. Michael Oakeshott (Ed.) with an Introduction by Richard
S. Peters. London: MacMillan, 1962.
Hobbes, T. (1640). The elements of law natural and politic. J. C. A. Gaskin (Ed.). Oxford: Oxford
University Press, 1994.
Holmes, S. (1990). Political psychology in Hobbes’s Behemoth. In Mary G. Dietz (Ed.), Thomas
Hobbes and political theory. Lawrence, KS: University Press of Kansas.
Hume, D. (1777). An enquiry concerning the principles of morals. LaSalle, IL: Open Court
Publishing Company, 1953.
Hume, D. (1777) Essays: Moral, political and literary, E. F. Miller (Ed.), rev. edition, Indianapolis,
IN: Liberty Fund, 1985.
Isaac, E. (1969). God’s acre. In P. Shepard & D. McKinley (Eds.), The subversive science: Essays
toward an ecology of man. Boston: Houghton Mifflin Co.
Kernberg, O. F. (1991). The moral dimensions of leadership. In S. Tuttman (Ed.), Psychoanalytic
group, theory and therapy: Essays in honor of Saul Scheidlinger (pp. 87–112). Madison, CT:
International Universities Press.
Kernberg, O. F. (1998). Ideology, conflict, and leadership in groups and organizations. New
Haven, CT: Yale University Press.
Klein, M., & Riviere, J. (1964). Love, hate and reparation. New York: W. W. Norton.
Kohut, H. (1985). On leadership. In C. B. Strozier (Ed.), Self psychology and the humanities:
Reflections on a new psychoanalytic approach (pp. 51–72). New York: W. W. Norton.
Lear, J. (1998). Open minded: Working out the logic of the soul. Cambridge, MA: Harvard
University Press.
Lovejoy, A. O. (1961). Reflections on human nature. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins Press.
Madison, J. (1792). Property. In The Papers of James Madison, v. 14, National Gazette, March
27, 1792. Charlottesville, VA: University Press of Virginia, 1983.
P1: vendor
380 Swogger
Mansfield, H. C. (1991). America’s constitutional soul. Baltimore, Johns Hopkins University

Press.
Morgan, E. S. (1992). The birth of the republic 1763–1789, 3rd Ed. Chicago University of Chicago
Press.
Morrison, S. E. (1965). The Oxford history of the American people. New York: Oxford University
Press. (Ch. 12–14, 18 & 20).
Rakove, J. N. (1997). Original meanings: Politics and ideas in the making of the constitution.
New York: Alfred A. Knopf.
Rangell, L. (1974). A psychoanalytic perspective leading currently to the syndrome of the com-
promise of integrity. International Journal of Psychoanalysis, 55, 3–12.
Rosenberg, N., & Birdzell, L. E., Jr. (1986). How the West grew rich: The economic transforma-
tion of the industrial world. New York: Basic Books.
Shaw, P. (1976). The character of John Adams. Chapel Hill, NC: University of North Carolina
Press.
Smith, A. (1759). The theory of moral sentiments. Indianapolis, IN: Liberty Classics, 1976.
Terry, B. A. (1908). History of England, 4th Ed., Revised. Chicago: Scott, Foresman.
Trevelyan, G. M. (1942). A shortened history of England. London: Penguin Books, 1987.
Tuck, R. (1989). Hobbes. New York: Oxford University Press.
White M. (1987). Philosophy, The Federalist, and the constitution. New York: Oxford University
Press.
Winnicott, D. W. (1951). Transitional objects and transitional phenomena. Reprinted in Collected
Papers: Through pediatrics to psychoanalysis. London, Tavistock Press, 1958.
Winnicott, D. W. (1958). The capacity to be alone. Reprinted in The maturational processes and
the facilitating environment: Studies in the theory of emotional development. International
Universities Press, New York, 1965.
Winnicott, D. W. (1971). The location of cultural experience. In Playing and reality. London:
Tavistock Press.
Winnicott, D. W. (1989). Playing and culture. In C. Winnicott, R. Shepherd & M. Davis (Eds.),
D. W. Winnicott: Psychoanalytic explorations, (pp. 203–206). Cambridge, MA: Harvard
University Press.
Wood, G. S., The radicalism of the American revolution, Alfred A. Knopf, New York, 1992.

U.S. Constitution

Uploaded by

Copyright:

Available Formats

You might also like

U.S. Constitution

Uploaded by

Document Information

Original Title

Copyright

Available Formats

Share this document

Share or Embed Document

Sharing Options

Did you find this document useful?

Is this content inappropriate?

Copyright:

Available Formats

U.S. Constitution

Uploaded by

Copyright:

Available Formats

P1: vendor

Journal of Applied Psychoanalytic Studies, Vol. 3, No. 4, October 2001 (°

The Psychodynamic Assumptions

The U.S. Constitution is a blueprint for the design of a government which

The designers of the U.S. Constitution were acutely aware of irrational

THE FEDERALIST PAPERS: PSYCHODYNAMIC ASSUMPTIONS

The richest source of materials for understanding the view of human

Madison goes on to state some remarkable paradoxes regarding fac-

Psychodynamic Assumptions 355

When actual human beings participate in the democratic process, what we

Elsewhere, Madison gives property a “. . . larger and juster meaning” in

Madison goes on from this point to begin to elaborate those governmen-

Psychodynamic Assumptions 357

interested in you.” The affective and relational dimension of interest is in

Madison offers what might be called two developmental paths to interest.

A TENSE BALANCE BETWEEN OPTIMISM AND PESSIMISM

The authors of The Federalist Papers attempted to integrate their demo-

Psychodynamic Assumptions 359

a certain portion of esteem and confidence. Republican government presupposes the

Incorporated into this broad understanding of the human condition is a

Hamilton was aware of how narcissistic leaders may manipulate groups:

Madison describes the loss of personal responsibility which can occur in

Madison and Hamilton also made a number of observations about psycho-

Psychodynamic Assumptions 361

the government, about the dangerousness of leaders, and the possibility

HUMAN AUTONOMY AS A VALUE

The Federalist also makes a fundamental assertion about human auton-

Here as elsewhere in The Federalist, the emphasis is on the active fac-

HUMAN PSYCHOLOGY AND THE DESIGN OF GOVERNMENT

The authors of The Federalist Papers were not psychoanalytically ori-

They also hoped to design a governmental decision making process

Psychodynamic Assumptions 363

THE HISTORICAL CONTEXT

In the decades leading up to the American Revolution, those in the

various non-conforming and dissenting Protestant groups including

Psychodynamic Assumptions 365

in democratic and representative forms of government, but to be very aware

THE PHILOSOPHICAL CONTEXT

The political turmoil of England in the 17th century was accompanied

He published works on the nature of space, matter, perception and optics,

Psychodynamic Assumptions 367

involve envy, malice and covetousness, and a hatred people experience of

In Leviathan, Hobbes ascribes conflict in the state of nature to a competitive

Seventeenth and eighteenth century thinkers believed that the dominant

and self interest of office holders to defend the legitimate prerogatives of

Psychodynamic Assumptions 369

Men, in their primitive conditions, however savage, were undoubtedly gregarious-

In similar fashion, Hume, in An Enquiry Concerning the Principles of Morals,

Hume attacked the constricted and reductionistic notion of self-love that

Any attempt to understand the theory of human nature embodied in the

Psychodynamic Assumptions 371

the Constitution involved major compromises and concessions to divergent

Hobbes begins with an observation that will be familiar to practicing psy-

light of current psychoanalytic thinking, are we attempting with our “new

Psychodynamic Assumptions 373

narrow, short-sighted goals driven by pathological narcissism, to what might

Winnicott’s (1951, 1958, Davis & Wallbridge, 1981) concept of transi-

Psychodynamic Assumptions 375