Psychoanalysts are often reproached for being out of sync—for their difference in approach. This animosity toward them is not limited to their technical language; their method, too, causes irritation. For despite their certain concepts with universal currency, psychoanalysis is neither a worldview nor a moral code; and—despite its therapeutic effects (which, as Lacan noted, are merely a by-product)—psychoanalysis is not an evidence-based medicine; it seeks not to objectify, but rather to subjectify. The fact that their practice remains enigmatic leaves people disconcerted.

How, then—when they step outside their private practices and institutions—do they go about explaining, or even defending, their practice—a task that is sometimes necessary?

How do they shift from listening to making themselves heard? How do they take a public stand when the very discourse of their daily work confines them to a certain discretion, maintained for the benefit of the patient? If their voice—even in the form of silence—carries authority within the framework of transference, what value does it hold in the social sphere? It is worth noting that this social bond is generally structured around mastery, knowledge, or grievances.

Marcel Czermak, one of our founders, sometimes remarked that analysts ought to be shrewder and take the necessary steps to make their discipline better known. It is true that, in this era of the internet, screens, and social media, this suggestion remains a pertinent question: how, amidst each of these public modalities, can one discern the trace of a psychoanalyst? Let us venture the hypothesis that, when it comes to the consequences of their actions, it all hinges on a single word: ethics.

Omar Guerrero

Translated by Lorena Strunk