Freud's entire body of work suggests that neurosis evolves either toward a loss of control—psychosis (hysteria)—or toward excessive control—perversion (obsession). This fundamental tension in his work positions neurosis on an axis, with psychosis at one extremity marked by a rupture with reality and a loss of the ego's control mechanisms, and perversion at the other extremity, characterized by a rigid psychic organization and fixation on specific modes of drive satisfaction that often deviate from social norms.
Phobias, at the center, are essentially neuroses—fears that have not evolved along this axis and, by stagnating, become swamps.
Freudian thought, though complex, offers a fascinating perspective on human psychic organization. At the heart of this perspective lies the notion of neurosis, often mistakenly perceived as an isolated pathology but which is actually constitutive of the ego.
We propose here a vision of neurosis not as a static entity, but as a point of dynamic equilibrium on a spectrum whose extremities could be psychosis and perversion.
Fundamentally, neurosis emerges from the conflict between our drives (the "id"), internalized prohibitions (the "superego"), and the necessity to adapt to reality (the "ego"). It is the ego's defense mechanisms, seeking to manage the anxiety arising from this conflict, that shape the different neurotic expressions.
Let us imagine an axis.
At one extremity, we find psychosis. Characterized by a rupture with reality and a loss of the ego's control mechanisms, psychosis could be interpreted as a "possession by the id." Drives overwhelm regulatory capacities, leading to an unleashing of the unconscious and an altered perception of the external world.
At the other extremity emerges perversion. Far from being a simple behavioral deviation, it could be conceptualized as a "possession by the superego." Here, prohibitions are paradoxically integrated and diverted to serve a specific and rigid drive satisfaction. The psychic structure becomes frozen in repetitive scenarios, testifying to excessive control exercised by a particular superego.
Neurosis, in its phobic diversity, would then be situated between these two poles, and this entire axis is neurotic. Neurotic symptoms would be attempts at compromise between the pressures of the id and the demands of the superego, modulated by the ego's capacities.
Envisioning neurosis as a spectrum between loss of control (psychosis) and excess of control (perversion) allows for a better understanding of the fundamental dynamics at work in psychic organization.
This approach emphasizes the importance of understanding the mechanisms for managing drives and the respective roles of the id, ego, and superego in forming our psychic experience. If the superego takes over the ego, we are in perversion—over-control, the hunt—even if there is no transgression, which is merely another form of drive control. Conversely, if the id takes over the ego, we are in psychosis—out-of-control, the dream.
The Toltec analogy of warriors and dreamers offers us a new perspective on the neurotic spectrum. By transposing this idea to the context of penitentiary systems, particularly Scandinavian ones, surprising reflections emerge concerning our approach to mental illness.
Traditionally, our societies tend to clearly distinguish the psychotic, often perceived as ill and requiring care in psychiatric institutions (the asylum), from the pervert, seen as a delinquent who must be punished and incarcerated (prison). This rigid dichotomy reflects the perception of the psychotic as having "lost control" and the pervert as exercising deviant "excess control."
However, this binary distinction deserves to be nuanced. Etymologically speaking, the term "perversion," from Latin pervertere, means to divert. Similarly, "seduce" also comes from a root implying a diversion from an initial path. In a Freudian perspective, perversion could then be understood as drive energy whose natural trajectory is diverted and rigidified by an excessive superego. Psychosis, etymologically "disease of the soul," manifests a rupture with reality, a loss of control that evokes the state of illness.
Now, if psychosis is undeniably an illness, perversion is equally so. The rigid psychic organization and drive fixations of the pervert testify to a profound dysfunction, a psychic suffering that, although expressing itself differently from psychosis, is no less real.
Scandinavian penitentiary systems, by emphasizing rehabilitation rather than punishment, seem to grasp this complexity. By offering an environment focused on personal development, education, and psychological support, they implicitly recognize that deviant behavior, including what we qualify as "perverse," can be the symptom of underlying and potentially amendable suffering.
This approach contrasts sharply with a vision that confines the "pervert" to the role of evil executioner deserving only sanction, and the "psychotic" to that of poor innocent victim incapable of undergoing trial—moreover, a victim of the pervert. Here we find the dynamics of Karpman's drama triangle: victim and executioner, but what about the rescuers? The right and left extremities often position themselves there, each in their own way, self-proclaiming as the righteous, where the "woke" embody the compassionate saviors of psychotics and where MAGA from QAnon's "Great Awakening" saves children from the hands of a pedophile cabal.
Thus, envisioning psychosis and perversion as the two extremities of the same neurotic spectrum invites us to move beyond these hasty moral judgments. Recognizing the suffering inherent in both states opens the way to more therapeutic and potentially more effective approaches, even in the context of socially unacceptable behaviors. Rehabilitation, following the example of Scandinavian efforts, could then no longer be perceived as indulgence toward "evil," but as recognition of the complexity of the human soul and an attempt to restore lost psychic balance, whatever the manifestation of this imbalance.
The binary distinction between the sick psychotic and delinquent pervert, which Scandinavian systems attempt to overcome through a rehabilitation approach, finds pertinent illumination in Friedrich Nietzsche's genealogy of morals.
This philosophical perspective deconstructs the origin of our moral conceptions, revealing how values initially linked to strength and nobility were subverted to give birth to a so-called "slave morality," founded on resentment and victimization.
Nietzsche explains that the notions of "good" and "evil" do not have a transcendent or natural origin. Initially, the "good" was what was noble, powerful, and healthy, while the "bad" was associated with what was weak and despicable. However, a "slave revolt" in the moral domain occurred. The oppressed, incapable of acting and asserting themselves, inverted these values. Their impotence was transmuted into virtue, their weakness into goodness, and their oppressors, initially "good," were redefined as "bad" and "wicked."
This genealogy reveals that our tendency to rigidly categorize individuals as "good" (victims, psychotics) and "bad" (executioners, perverts) is the fruit of a historical and psychological construction, rather than an intrinsic truth. This morality of resentment erects barriers and prevents a nuanced understanding of human complexity. It freezes individuals in predefined roles, perpetuating a cycle of judgment and punishment without seeking to understand the roots of suffering.
Applied to our discussion, Nietzschean genealogy suggests that our psychic Manichaeism, which opposes the sick to the delinquent, is a manifestation of this "slave" morality. We tend to sympathize with the one who seems "weak" (the psychotic) and condemn the one who appears "strong" (the pervert), without examining the underlying suffering that animates their respective behaviors—which is a lack of science. The Nietzschean ethical critique is also epistemological in this sense.
By adopting a genealogical perspective, we are invited to move beyond these hasty moral judgments. Recognizing that the categories of "psychotic" and "pervert" can both be expressions of psychic imbalance, as the Scandinavian approach suggests, represents a step toward a more mature human science and a more enlightened ethics.
It is about deconstructing our inherited moral reflexes to embrace a deeper understanding of the complexity of the human soul and open the way to truly effective rehabilitation approaches.
In the Toltec perspective, an illuminating analogy emerges, enriching our understanding of the neurotic spectrum.
Let us imagine civilization as a vast collective project.
At one extremity, we find the dreamers, those whose fertile imagination explores the confines of reality, sometimes at the risk of distancing themselves from it. They embody a certain psychic fluidity, a capacity to deconstruct norms and envision new possibilities. In Freudian terms, they could approach a certain "possession by the id," a heightened sensitivity to the currents of the unconscious—a source of innovation but also of vulnerability to the limits of reality.
At the other extremity stand the warriors, characterized by their discipline, rigor, and self-mastery. They are the guardians of structures, the artisans of order. Their strength lies in their capacity to channel their energy, establish clear limits, and maintain a form of control over their environment. This posture echoes the "possession by the superego," where rules and prohibitions are internalized with force, ensuring social cohesion but potentially also engendering a certain rigidity.
In this analogy, neurosis, with its multiple expressions, represents the field of tension between these two poles. "Warriors" are not intrinsically perverts sick from their control, even if pervert is the chosen word, any more than "dreamers" are necessarily psychotic patients in their imaginative exploration. On the contrary, the dynamics of a healthy society could reside in the recognition and valorization of these two forces.
The "warriors," with their sense of structure and protection, can become the ramparts of the "dreamers," helping them anchor their visions in reality, navigate the constraints of the tangible world without losing themselves in the meanders of their own psyche. Their "excess control" can then transform into a stabilizing force, a secure framework for the blossoming of new ideas.
Conversely, the "dreamers," through their capacity to transcend established limits and imagine alternative futures, nourish society with creativity and new perspectives. Their sensitivity to underground currents, often perceived as a form of "loss of control," can actually be a source of intuition and innovation essential to progress.
Thus, rather than opposing these two poles as distinct pathological states, it is more pertinent to envision them as complementary forces within the same spectrum. A society that stigmatizes one in favor of the other impoverishes itself. True richness lies in the capacity to recognize the intrinsic value of each position and favor an alliance where the protective force of "warriors" supports the imaginative audacity of "dreamers," for the benefit of the whole. Neurosis, in its diversity, is then no longer a stagnant swamp, but fertile ground where this dynamic tension can express itself and resolve creatively.