Parapraxis

STARTING POINT: ALL GROUPS HAVE AN UNCONSCIOUS

This project developed from a shared experience: groups we believe should exist and succeed, from mutual aid collectives to communist cadres, struggle with difficult and often unexamined inter-psychic group dynamics. We take it as a starting point that groups, by their very nature, elicit and enact painful and confusing states, like over-dependence on a leader or fear of contamination. We believe that these dynamics play out beneath the surface and alongside whatever the group is trying to do together. In other words, any group, like any individual, has an unconscious.

OUR BIG QUESTION: WHAT DOES THIS MEAN FOR GROUPS DOING POLITICAL WORK?

Groups break down for all kinds of reasons; political organizing is often brutal, exhausting, disappointing work. Feelings of heartbreak and betrayal, resentment and shame, are common. These can be painful, difficult aspects of group life to discuss. They are also often dismissed as ancillary to the real work of political struggle, especially in times of unabating crisis, genocide, and war.

Although interpersonal drama can be taken up in excess–and distract from our work–group dynamics are not mere distraction, and our hesitations about discussing them do not make them disappear. Ironically, in fact, when groups treat relational dynamics as merely superficial or deleterious, they often wind up mired in confusion about what any given internal conflict is “really” about. Often the confusion is posed as not being able to discern what is interpersonal strife and what is political disagreement—an aggravating situation that, we’ve observed, comes up constantly in groups’ narration of their own breakdown. There are no easy formulas for working through these dimensions of group life, but we believe that being undisciplined about them makes it harder for groups to work together productively—or, for that matter, to separate “well.” This pamphlet offers concepts and questions that you can bring to your own group to perform a group inquiry, to think about what might be happening below the surface.

Groups Group is a collective of clinicians, organizers, writers, artists, and scholars interested in group dynamics in the everyday life of all forms of left social movements. We also do internal process work, popular education, and consult with groups.

To be in a group is to submit to a form of disorganizing organization that hangs on careful balance: to be devoted to a collective without being engulfed, to be disciplined by it without sleepwalking to the tune of a leader’s will, to integrate without dissolving into it. As infants born into a sexual union from which we are then necessarily excluded, the yields and limits of assembly are evident from the outset. Before we arrived in the bloc, we lived our lives in other groups: the family, the religious order, the cafeteria table clique. You can sit with us. You can’t. Some groups we remember entering. Others we didn’t elect, but deselected.

As a form of critique whose object of analysis is suffering, psychoanalysis understands the pains of the group. Its full task is to make sense of them as a condition of the many as much as of the one. As the psychoanalyst Didier Anzieu glosses the problem of thinking about groups, the “commonplace” assumption is that the group “is a pooling, a sharing” through which “the energies, enthusiasm and capacities of individuals who freely assent to the discipline of the group” coalesce into a unified forcefield. Yet, as Anzieu stresses, this idealized description eats itself. It collapses union with sharing, with collectivity. We know that groups rely on sharing. He asks, “a sharing of what?”

Psychoanalytic cults. Cowboy churches. The Epstein Class. Iranian monarchists. Fascist liberals. Clinics and their radicals. Discipline and holding. Getting together, falling apart.

Essays by Séamus Malekafzali, Tracy McNulty, Richard Seymour, Zahid Chaudhary, Danny Hayward, Eri Linsker, hannah baer, and more.

It is a particularly unlovely time to be thinking about romance. The heart can be fickle, indulgent, its matters distracting, impractical. But in the heavy boots of our undesirable present, seized by colliding catastrophes, we ask: how do we get out of here? Can the simple math of desire plus futurity break us free? Or is this just a barely veiled expression of our longing for avoidance? When we declare that love is the answer, we often forget the ambivalence of which psychoanalysis warns: love emerges in tandem with hate. It is neither the antidote to aggression nor the basis of a coherent social order. 

As a narrative structure, romance insists on the future. Whether it's with a new lover hoping to break the repetition of bad patterns, in emotional growth born of the analytic couple, or inside the tremulous energy of an insurgent crowd that makes yesterday seem historically distinct from tomorrow, romance threads time with the texture of meaning. Perhaps delusional, perhaps heroic in this audacious promise, romance must also always be a fantasy, an imagined structure that has not yet met its match in the present. While this fantasy is vital to our attachment to the world and each other, it can also provide the fuel for self-serving denial and disavowal. When we say that the youth are not fucking and that they don’t care about politics, these separate charges obscure the nature of their common cause. As the world attempts to disavow the death of the earth and the removal of its peoples, our sense of continuity flees; the receding horizon is not an open road, but a vanishing point. Whither romance? 

Dependent. Detached. Trauma Bonded. The Incest Lobby. Revolution Against Romance. Reading for Love and Labor. Surrealist Bedfellows. Mad Love. Essays by Nadia Bou Ali, hannah baer, Moon Charania, Davey Davis, Kaleem Hawa, Anna Kornbluh, Thomas Ogden, and more.

Like Freud’s prototypical baby, we struggle over whether to keep our body together or to give it away. We all live these scenes of bodily loss. Freud and Marx both sing harmoniously: what we give up, we give under duress. We are not easy with what we’ve been tasked with, but the task has been the same since birth, doubled in the name of emancipation: first, there’s nothing less than to survive alienation and exploitation, then there’s staying alive for one another’s sake. Perhaps the storied antagonism between Freud and Marx turns on the difficulty of holding these tasks together, balanced on the knife’s edge that separates self-interest from collective liberation.

Capitalism does not produce itself all alone, no matter its disciplines and political-economic constraints on the reproduction of society. If Marx taught us anything, it’s that capitalism produces its own gravediggers, the proletariat—“the unreason of reason,” he quipped, where the dominant social order encounters its unconscious element. Through the bad exchange of capitalism comes a gothic reversal, from preconscious life to premature death, where workers end up burying themselves instead of the system that provides the grave plot. That exchange is felt internally, in a rift that cleaves open the self. Freud, for his part, helps us describe how political economy hammers our lives into unreasonable and reasonable shapes, imaginary and real, as countless and heterogeneous as the individual faces in a collective mass. For each and for all, we bring psychoanalysis to bear on the political-economic problems we suffer in common.

King Ketamine. Beyond the vibecession. Austere Mothers. Sick at Work. Money, Feces, Babies, Gifts. Essays by Juliana Spahr, Peter Coviello, Nicolás Medina Mora, Jyoti Rao, and Hannah Proctor. Images of Red Vienna from Wilhelm Reich’s camera, dispatches from Lebanon, and more.

In 1911, Sigmund Freud addressed his followers gathered at Nuremberg, where he restated the import of his practice: “the task of psychoanalysis lies not at all in the discovering of complexes, but in the dissolving of resistances.” A formal antipode to political resistance, psychoanalytic resistance dams up desire and obstructs traumatic knowledge. It is conservative, allergic to change, and aims for the kind of frictionless normativity against which the unconscious drives rail. Meanwhile, we associate political resistance with change itself, with a blockade that pushes for revolution—rather than a blockage that censors its very possibility. If we read Freud as urging his followers to help their patients move through their resistance, psychoanalysis is a project on the side of material and political reality by bringing patients out of isolation and into social struggles. However, psychoanalysis is often glossed in reverse: as a project of isolated relief for the stubborn individual.

Should psychoanalysis only succeed at rendering patients compliant in their cure? Is psychoanalysis a tool for nullifying political resistance? If so, Freud’s edict for the aim of psychoanalysis is now but an epitaph. It would be easy, then, to give up the ghost, to let psychoanalysis go. But why should psychoanalysis retreat from collective symptoms back into the consulting room for individual treatment—away from strikes, riots, and uprisings, and toward complacency and normativity, if not quite literally marriage and babies? Why should the clinic not dare to be in and of the world?

Feeling restless. Hunger tactics. Laughing in the face of fascism. Breaking through. Diagnosing revolution. Madness in the Maghreb. Essays by Fady Joudah, Jamieson Webster, Dylan Saba, Yasmin El-Rifae, Ussama Makdisi, Mary Turfah, Hannah Proctor, and more.

In Memory of Joshua Clover (1962-2025).

"We release this special issue as one collective voice within the call for abolition, transformation, and exit.

Rather than evacuating our consulting rooms and classrooms of politics, we here seek to put the center of the world at the center of psychoanalysis.

All the proceeds of this issue will go to The Gaza Community Mental Health Programme, where trying to understand and helping the victims of this ongoing catastrophe go hand-in-hand."

Table of Contents The Editors, "“For Life’s Sake”

Nadia Bou Ali, “Social Hell”

Mary Turfah, “Israel’s Reality Principle”

Adam HajYahia, “The Principle of Return”

Rana Issa, “The Right to Exist”

Nihal El Aasar, “Left-wing Melancholia”

Jake Romm, “Elements of Anti-Semitism”

Tad Delay, “Evangelical Zionism”

David Markus, “Persecution Terminable and Interminable”

Kaleem Hawa, “Like a Bag Trying to Empty”

Evan Goldstein, “Freud’s Jewish Closet”

Donald Moss, “On Representations of Evil”

Lama Khouri, “Is This a Dream or for Real?”

Yasmin El-Rifae, “To Know What They Know”

Nadia Bou Ali, “Ugly Enjoyment”