Alan Bass In January 1999 I was privileged to discuss a paper by Maurice Apprey on the intergenerational transmission of trauma in the African-American community. The event was part of the series on trauma in the twentieth century (More Than The Mind Can Bear) directed by Donald Moss through the Psychoanalytic Studies Program at the New School University. This communication is an outgrowth of that discussion. I was quite moved by the encounter with Apprey. Here was someone who shared my own commitment to taking Freudian metapsy- chology in new directions, and someone committed to intervention in one of the most difficult, essential areas of practice: the intergenerational effects of institu- tionalized racism. I am attempting here to apply Appreys thinking to psycho- analysis as an institution, to offer some clinical material that speaks directly to his ideas, and to expand his metapsychology. Apprey said some things that evening about drive theory and trauma that deserve long discussion and meditation. Why is there such an extraordinary lack of reflection about why American psychoanalysis remains an effectively segregated profession? If one thinks in sweeping terms about social movements in postwar America, the civil rights movement led to the feminist movement, and then to the gay rights movement. It is clear that psychoanalysis has been profoundly influenced by feminism, and is in the process of being influenced by gay liberation. This influence is felt both in terms of theory expansion and political representation. Why does American psychoanalysis seem to have bypassed the civil rights movement altogether? Why has the glaring absence of black analysts in particular, and of a literature that would speak to their concerns, not been cause for debate? Of course there are exceptions in the literature and in analytic institutions. However, there seems to be no sense of urgency to address the effects of American racism in American analysis at all levels from the intrapsychic to local and national organizations. Could it be that psychoanalysis remains one of the places in which the vexed history of black-Jewish relations in the US continues to be played out? Most analysts probably would be shocked by the idea that the profession as a whole is in need of intervention. Yet there is an extreme polarization in which there is next to no dialogue between psychoanalysts and the black health professionals who belong to the traditional groups of psychoanalytic candidates (social workers, psychologists, psychiatrists). Nor has there been any intra-psychoanalytic effort Constellations Volume 9, No 2, 2002. Blackwell Publishers Ltd., 108 Cowley Road, Oxford OX4 1JF, UK and 350 Main Street, Malden, MA 02148, USA. to address the experiences of black analysts within the profession, an effort happily recognized as vital for women and gay analysts. Apprey describes a strat- egy of community intervention based on psychoanalytic principles for airing wrongs and hatreds and for resolving them. He strongly implies that without such intervention the perpetrators and victims of bias cannot join forces to create concrete and mutually beneficial projects. 1 It is conceivable that without such intervention American psychoanalysis will continue to be as fatally segregated in the future as it is today. If so, then the intergenerational effects of racism will continue to be blindly perpetuated within our profession. However, psychoanalysis as a theory and practice does have the means to deal with this problem. Our literature is particularly rich in the description of transmis- sion of trauma in second generation Holocaust survivors. As clinicians we have learned that what is transmitted from one generation to the next is almost never what one would think of as the large historical trauma, but specific, individual, and unthinkable acts of aggression. Thus, the necessity of the details, of the analysts bearing witness to the idiosyncrasies of each narrative in the treatment of survivors and their children. Why hasnt this integration of observable intergenerational transmission of trauma with the theory of unconscious processes been generalized to include racial persecution in the US? Apprey reminds us that there are features that anti-Semitism shares with racism toward African-Americans, but there are also decisive contrasts between them. 2 My own sense is that the shared features of all forms of racism have to do with the unconscious fantasies of the racist, while the decisive contrasts have to do with how the large historical trauma is translated into specific forms of unthinkable aggression. Any treatment of a black patient that did not take such issues into account would have serious lacunae, like the treat- ments of second generation survivors that did not deal with the transmission of the parents experiences. To avoid such lapses would require much more sustained attention to the decisive contrasts between anti-Semitism and racism toward African Americans. We base our training system on the centrality of the future analysts analysis. Think of the consequences for our profession if a black candi- dates training analysis did not take up such issues. This is but one of the many areas in which we need to hear from black analysts about their training experi- ences. The other obvious area is whatever experiences of subtle or overt racism they have encountered, again just as women and gay analysts have made public their experiences of sexism and homophobia within the profession. The linkage of the political and the metapsychological is a great opportunity. It poses the most difficult and vital questions for psychoanalysis. Envisaging the metapsychological problem, Apprey says that he has yet to find an appropriate clinical term that captures the urgency of compelling historical fact. . . . The peremptory urges behind repetition are formidable adversaries (33). If we return to Freud on trauma for a moment we can see even more profoundly why finding the appropriate term would be so difficult. Speaking very broadly, there are three main phases of Freuds investigation of trauma. First, in the early phase of Blackwell Publishers Ltd. 2002 Racism and Psychoanalysis: Alan Bass 275 his work, Freud was interested in defense against consciousness of trauma. Memory of trauma could be unconscious, exercising all its effects even if the subject is not consciously aware of having been traumatized. 3 Second, Freud took up the relations of the peremptory urges behind repetition and trauma itself. Here one finds the investigation of phenomena beyond the pleasure principle: the breaching of the stimulus barrier and the tendency to self-destruction. 4 Finally, Freud turned specifically to the intergenerational transmission of historical aggres- sion and trauma. 5 To explain this phenomenon he invoked a theory of phylogenetic inheritance that has been much criticized. But in his way Freud was attempting to deal with precisely our problem: how is the trace of trauma in one generation trans- mitted so that it is concretely, but unconsciously and automatically revived in another? An appropriate term would have to synthesize all three areas. One has to understand the defensive process that makes it possible for an individual not to know that his or her actions concretely repeat specific traumas of the past. One needs a theory that explains why repetition is so peremptory, (which Freud tried to do with the death drive). And one needs an unconscious mechanism of transmis- sion, (which Freud tried to do with phylogenetic inheritance). Continuing the search for the appropriate clinical term, one would also have to take into account that all forms of racism are centrally directed at the body. The logic of racism is that observable or alleged bodily characteristics justify hatred, persecution, enslavement, torture, destruction. For both victims and perpetrators racism operates where mind meets body. This is also a central concern of psycho- analysis: the unconscious drives as the meeting of mind and body. Apprey and Daniel have suggested that in order to understand the unconscious dynamics of intergenerational transmission of racial trauma each of the terms Freud uses to characterize the drives (source, pressure, aim, and object) can be reconfigured. 6 The source of a drive, they say, is not necessarily in the subjects own body, but in anterior agents. Its pressure is not only the pressure of discharge, but the urgent and deferred carrying out of an errand from the preceding generation, which can occur actively or passively. Its aim is not only satisfaction. A subject may be driven by collapsed and compromised aims, particularly in the realm of murderous impulses stirred up by being the object of persecution in the preceding generation. Finally, the drives object may be independent of it, as Freud thought, but independent across generations. Apprey is placing himself in the tradition of those contemporary Freudians who link drive theory to a theory of transmission from one unconscious to another. The most prominent contemporary example is Laplanche. His expanded theory of seduction also emphasizes that the source of the drive is an exterior agent the parents inevitable unconscious fantasies, which the child registers as enigmatic, traumatizing excitation. 7 For Laplanche too, the effect of such regis- tration is deferred. Analogously, the victim of racism would have to be uncon- sciously affected by the racists unconscious fantasy, and the victim in turn would transmit this indecipherable excitation from one generation to the next. Abraham Blackwell Publishers Ltd. 2002 276 Constellations Volume 9, Number 2, 2002 and Torok, in their work on the metapsychology of the secret, also emphasize that traumatizing, criminal, or shameful actions may be registered, (encrypted in their vocabulary), such that a member of the next generation will not be conscious he or she bears a secret, and yet may devote a life to it. 8 They make the impor- tant clinical point that in such situations analyses will stagnate or founder unless the secret is made conscious, because the analysand is unconsciously carrying out the errand from the past in the analysis itself. This point is obviously related to the issue of potential deficiencies of analyses in black or second generation Holocaust patients. In their respective ways Apprey, Laplanche, and Abraham and Torok all attempt an integrative Freudian theory of historical and unconscious trauma. They examine unconscious registration of the traumatizers conscious action and unconscious fantasies, the resulting inevitable traumatic stimulation and defense, and peremptory, deferred repetition. From a Kleinian point of view one could of course add the experience of being the recipient of unmitigated projective identi- fication of sadistic part object fantasies. 9 Bion might speak of having to be the container of split off beta elements which cannot possibly be metabolized into alpha elements, and so will be reprojected. 10 But in all these instances the point is that unconscious processes would occur not only at the juncture of mind and body, but at the point where historical process itself is traumatically unthinkable, precisely because the victimizers actions concretely, but blindly, repeat uncon- scious fantasies. It is a commonplace that the victims of sexual abuse in one generation will unthinkingly carry out sexual abuse in the next, that Holocaust survivors often have psychosomatically and psychologically ill children, and as Apprey emphasizes that victims of racism may heap cruelty, that once origi- nated with external transgressors, onto their own kind (32). Imagine the complexity of the unconscious dynamics that would account for such tragedies. This complexity is only barely hinted at by the brief references to Freud, Laplanche, Abraham and Torok, Klein, and Bion. And imagine too the tragedy of psychoanalysis as an institution in which these dynamics would very subtly be at work, but not analyzed. Apprey speaks of community interventions for the overcoming of transgener- ational hatred (ibid.). Do his principles also apply to the analytic consulting room? I would like to offer some clinical evidence that they do, and that they are as essential for the clinician as are the principles derived from work with Holocaust survivors and their children. Quite some time ago, I simultaneously had in analysis a young black man, Mr. A, and a second generation Holocaust survivor, Ms. B. Both patients had strikingly similar initial presentations: each would be classified as a severe masochistic character disorder. But despite the similar presentations, and despite the fact that both were in full scale analyses, with Ms. B I was acutely aware of the interface of psychodynamics and histori- cal process, while with Mr. A I was not, although in retrospect I believe I should have been. Blackwell Publishers Ltd. 2002 Racism and Psychoanalysis: Alan Bass 277 A few words about Ms. B. Both her parents survived the camps. Typically for second generation survivors, she did not consciously come to treatment for any reasons related to the effects of her parents experiences on her. Over time, I real- ized that there were essential distortions in the knowledge she did have about her parents, and over time these distortions were corrected. Ms. B had had no idea that her directly sexual and characteriologically extreme masochism could have anything to do with the Holocaust, even though in her initial consultation she told me that her parents Christianized the family name after the war, and attempted to raise their children as non-Jews in their country of origin. My point here is that I was clinically prepared both for Ms. Bs denials and distortions, and for how essential they would be in her treatment, because of the very valuable literature on similar treatments. I also had the interesting experience of presenting some material from Ms. Bs treatment to a group specializing in the treatment of second generation survivors. In order to protect confidentiality I did not identify Ms. Bs country of origin. The leader of the group, who had an excellent historical grasp of the details of the Holocaust, besides being a very committed classical analyst, immediately surmised where she was from, and explained why he thought the specific experience of the Jews in her country had to interface with her specific dynamics and he was right. This is an instance of the kind of sensitivity to historical detail necessary for work with all those who bear the deferred effects of racial trauma. But I did not at all think in such terms about Mr. A, despite the extraordinary story he told me in his initial session. A counselor had recommended therapy to him because he seemed unable to complete his undergraduate degree. He was a science major a longstanding interest whose grades varied from As to Fs. He was living alone, depressed and isolated, and compulsively smoked marijuana. He was a tall, thin young man who wore very thick glasses and had a visible dent in his forehead. He was born with Marfans syndrome (often called Abraham Lincolns disorder), which produces tall, thin people with elongated extremities and terrible vision. Although he had always hated his glasses thick plastic lenses, he said, they had once saved his life. How his glasses had saved his life goes to the heart of the matter. He was the oldest of three brothers. His father was employed in the food indus- try, his mother a reclusive housewife, devoted to her equally reclusive youngest son. The father had served in the Korean War, and through the GI Bill had been able to buy a small house on the fringes of a ghetto area, where the parents still lived. Mr. As intelligence and gift for science had been recognized early. He was recruited into a program that prepared minority students for admission into New Yorks specialized science high schools. His pattern of heavy marijuana use and wildly fluctuating grades had begun during his years in the science school. It had been a point of honor for him to hang out with the other ghetto kids. His middle brother was the bane of his existence. This brother had always been trouble. He had started his life on the street very early, dealing drugs, committing petty crimes, Blackwell Publishers Ltd. 2002 278 Constellations Volume 9, Number 2, 2002 and terrorizing the parents, who seemed unable to deal with him at all. He mocked Mr. Afor his interest in science and school, his lack of street smarts, and his phys- ical weakness. Mr. A was remarkably passive in relation to his brother. The most dramatic moment came at a time when the brother owed Mr. A some money. The brother was tormenting him about not paying the money back, unless Mr. Acould show some toughness. He produced a revolver, and dared Mr. A to play Russian roulette for the money. Mr. A consented, wanting to prove himself to the brother, and assuming that the gun was not loaded. The brother put the gun to Mr. As head, and pulled the trigger on a loaded gun. This was how Mr. As glasses had saved his life: the very thick plastic lenses had deflected the force of the bullet. Mr. Adid not lose consciousness. He was rushed to the hospital, where he stayed for two weeks. The doctors decided that it was more risky to try to remove the bullet in his fore- head thus the dent than to leave it in. The incident, now two years past, was never treated as an attempted murder. There were no repercussions at all. There was something about Mr. As story that was unbelievable to me from the first session, much as I had justifiably doubted Ms. Bs initial presentation about her parents. I in no way questioned its factuality. But I could not imagine his compliance once his brother produced the gun. Of course I did not verbalize my doubts to him, any more than I had with Ms. B. Over time, I attempted to recon- cile his extraordinary passivity with his brother with his passive self-destruction in other areas. For example, he would ride his bicycle into traffic and get knocked down; he had been mugged several times on the subway by going to the most deserted parts of the platform late at night. At first, the treatment was a tenuous twice a week psychotherapy. Mr. A was about to depart for a summer science program for minority students at a presti- gious university. Since he did not know if he would return to therapy after his two month absence, I worked with him as best I could, including the question of his need for long term, intensive treatment. He did return in the fall his summer had been a disaster. Over the next few months I brought up the possibility of psycho- analysis, and he agreed to it. Of course there was an element of enactment: he was as passive with me as he was elsewhere, but he needed serious help. I was aware of my own eagerness to work analytically with a black patient, and knew that his analyzability might be questionable. Once on the couch he seemed to become one of Freuds shell-shocked soldiers, whose constant repetition of trauma in dreams seemed so puzzling. Mr. A began most sessions with a dream of being shot. The dream was always the same: the gun was fired and he was knocked backward in his chair. I attempted no inter- pretations of these dreams, assuming on Freudian principles that they were the attempt to repair the breach in the stimulus barrier and to develop the signal anxi- ety that the trauma had preempted. There was much else that was troubling in his life and his treatment, including his tendency to show up for sessions high. I certainly worked with Mr. A on this issue, but made no direct suggestions or prohibitions this was an analysis. Blackwell Publishers Ltd. 2002 Racism and Psychoanalysis: Alan Bass 279 After two years of treatment, Mr. A one day brought in a dream about being shot that had a new detail in it. Someone else was there screaming. For the first time I asked him to associate to a dream of being shot. He told me that in fact someone else had witnessed the shooting. A friend of his brothers had also been there, a friend who apparently was just as appalled by Mr. As passivity as I had been in the first session. In Mr. As memory the friend had tried to get him to move from the chair. In a kind of shock after the shooting, the friend had kept on screaming, Why didnt you duck? Why didnt you duck? Why didnt you duck? became a leitmotif in the analysis. It turned out that there had been extensive sexual play between Mr. Aand his brother as children incest. Eventually, I was able to interpret Mr. As central transference resistance: participation in analysis was a kind of passive, homosexual play with me, mutual masturbation with all the implications of the term. His defenses against aggres- sion, his need to punish himself, his perverse Oedipal impulses he was as masochistic with women as with men all were brought into the treatment over time. The symbolic meaning of his Marfans syndrome turned out to be directly connected to his difficulty completing college. Mr. A graduated. He stopped coming to sessions high, and then gradually stopped his compulsive pot smoking. He got a laboratory job in his field. The job was terrifying to him he was a notorious butterfingers in the lab. He did in fact have several serious mishaps, but he prevailed. All this happened slowly, with no departure from standard analytic procedure. And I would add now with no attention whatsoever to the issue of transgenerational transmission of racial trauma. My understanding of the shooting was predictable. Mr. As brother was a psychopath, who was probably terrified of his homosexual impulses; Mr. A himself, out of unconscious arousal and guilt, had allowed himself to be shot. In the seventh year of the analysis Mr. A changed jobs for the better. He was now working some distance from the city and commuting. He wanted to end the analysis and move closer to his job. He agreed to a termination process, which took about a year. One day, as we were very close to the last session, Mr. A said that he had thought of something that he had never told me. This was something he had always known, but that had never seemed important before. As he had said in passing, his father had been in the Korean War. But something terrible had happened to the father. His platoon was segregated. The fathers unit was about to be sent on what the father thought was a suicide mission, precisely because it was an all minority group. To avoid what he thought was certain death, the father shot himself in the hand. Just as we were on the verge of ending his analysis, here was an entirely new angle on Mr. As letting himself be shot, another answer to Why didnt you duck? At the time I thought that the pressure of the termination process had brought important Oedipal issues to the fore, and I interpreted this material in a traditional way identification with the father, self-castration, termi- nation as a suicide mission, etc. Blackwell Publishers Ltd. 2002 280 Constellations Volume 9, Number 2, 2002 On the whole, I think that Mr. A was well served in his treatment. It was salu- tary that he made the connection to his fathers experience in his own way, at his own pace. I heard from him once, a year after termination. He sent me a card saying that he was doing fine, and that he was very glad he had been in analysis. However, when I think about him in relation to Ms. B I am filled with uneasiness. I cannot say that I ever analyzed the confluence of intrapsychic dynamics and transgenerational transmission of trauma with him as I did with Ms. B, or that I even thought about him in this way. Apprey gives us another way to conceptualize the material, which would not change the basic dynamic formulations, but would give them another dimension. First, on the issue of the brothers psychopathy, Apprey reminds us that in black on black crime . . . the African-American transgressor has lost sight of the origi- nal enemy (31). Without discounting the homosexual dynamics between the brothers, without losing the contrast between a bookworm and a street hustler, it remains that they were playing out the drama of black-on-black crime. Mr. A himself said very little about racism during the course of his treatment. He focused on his own tendency to ingratiate himself with those who were more street than he was, even at the cost of destroying what he had sought out in high school and college. The transference issue of analysis representing the white world, and Mr. As ambivalent relation to it, was the main focus of racial issues in the treatment. Mr. As brother brings more violent, bodily issues about race into focus. This was certainly an instance of losing sight of the original enemy Mr. Ahimself became an enemy to be tormented and even killed. Is it too speculative to suggest that in part the brothers psychopathy blindly, unconsciously, concretely repeated the psychopathy of the original enemy a racist military that would kill the father in order not to kill white soldiers? And that Mr. A blindly, unconsciously, concretely repeated the fathers choice of self-destruc- tion? In any event, such thoughts did not occur to me, even during the little time we had to examine the impact of Mr. As fathers experience. By contrast, the underlying, unconscious sadism of Ms. Bs parents, their transmission of anti- Semitism to Ms. B, and their own losing sight of the original enemy was very much an issue in her treatment. Apprey thinks that the message the older generation transmits is that one does not deserve to live and therefore must die in one form or another (ibid.). Ms. B in fact was always the sick child for her mother, whose wartime experiences were more horrific than her fathers. In a frenzy of overprotectiveness, Ms. Bs mother stuffed her with medications, to the point that the family pediatrician finally had to forbid her to medicate Ms. B at all. As an adult, Ms. B was thin, haggard, had chronic difficulties nourishing herself properly, and suffered from various skin disorders. Mr. A of course suffered from the genetic accident of his Marfans syndrome. Did this put him all too readily in the position of the child who did not deserve to live and had to die? Mr. As very striking ability to risk death and destruction after the shooting riding his bicycle into traffic, setting Blackwell Publishers Ltd. 2002 Racism and Psychoanalysis: Alan Bass 281 himself up to be mugged in the same way more than once calls out for psycho- analytic explanation. He seemed compelled to take advantage of opportunities his environment offered to hurt himself. Apprey states that Anna Freuds well-known concept of identification with the aggressor is correct, but incomplete in this kind of situation (33). To describe the transfer of destructive aggression from one generation to the next Apprey uses the image of transgenerational haunting (ibid.). Here, again, he is close to Abraham and Torok in his thinking. Apprey says that the victim is the host of the ghost of the original aggressor, and that the next generation houses the ghost and the host. While this sounds like a theory of internalized objects, Apprey specifies that he is describing an intrapsychic situation in which one does not have open interior spaces where thoughts and ideas can be played with in a flexible and adaptable manner. . . . This subjects interior space is filled with shadows, ghosts and silhouettes where past and present, inside and outside are ill-defined. . . . [One] urgently strives to repeat historical injury, choosing an inappropriate object to attack during the repetition, and haphazardly repeating the errand toward extinction or haphazardly recreating a wayward child. (34) Mr. Acertainly seemed to have an errand toward extinction and his brother was certainly a wayward child. The haphazardness Apprey emphasizes is due to the collapse of boundaries between past and present, inside and outside. It is precisely this collapse of boundaries that permits the concrete, but uncon- scious repetition of the racial trauma. The victim of racism always suffers the violations of the boundaries of the body, because his or her body is the focus of the violent actions and unconscious fantasies of the racist. This is trauma by defi- nition the breaching of a barrier, a barrier simultaneously physical and mental. But the racist of course does not know about his or her own peremptory need to traumatize, and the victim is mostly unaware of traumatic consequences beyond the immediate situation. (This is how I imagine Mr. As father). And when racism is part of the everyday environment, there is a particular tendency to disavow its traumatic effects, while of course peremptorily recreating a traumatic environ- ment. (This is how I now imagine Mr. Ahimself). And there can be a tendency on the part of an allegedly neutral observer myself in the case of Mr. A to disavow that all these dynamics are at work. Why had I been so on the lookout for reso- nances of Ms. Bs parents experiences, while it had never even crossed my mind to ask Mr. Awhat he knew about his fathers experience in the Korean War? What would the analysis have been like if we had not had to wait until it was almost over to begin to explore what his fathers shooting himself meant to Mr. A? I think that my experience with Mr. A is emblematic of the institutional situa- tion of psychoanalysis. A typical godless Jew, I thought myself quite free, and perhaps unusually eager, to engage with minority patients and still think so. I thought that analysis would be the best treatment for this individual, and consis- Blackwell Publishers Ltd. 2002 282 Constellations Volume 9, Number 2, 2002 tently proceeded in accordance with the procedures of classical analysis. Mr. As analysis was eventually very gratifying for both of us. And yet even when the issue of intergenerational transmission of racial trauma came up I was not able to think about it. In fact, it was only in preparing my discussion of Maurice Appreys paper (about thirteen years after Mr. As termination) that I realized what he was saying applied directly to a case of my own. Is American psychoanalysis in a situ- ation like my own with Mr. A? Attempting to be free from bias in relation to indi- viduals, but unable to think psychoanalytically about the inevitable dynamic repercussions of racism? And insufficiently interested in the details that differen- tiate the effects of anti-Semitism from the effects of American racism? Could these be some reasons why American psychoanalysis remains effectively segre- gated? Apprey tellingly speaks of the cunning navet that keeps humans in a fog as they practice racism or silently but complicitly watch it practiced. 11 Is such a question too traumatic for American psychoanalysis to ask about itself? NOTES This essay will appear in Donald Moss, ed., Hating in the First Person Plural: Psychoanalytic Essays on Racism, Homophobia, and Misogyny (The Other Press, forthcoming). Published with permission. 1. Maurice Apprey, Reinventing the self in the face of received transgenerational hatred in the African American community, in Mind and Human Interaction 9 (1998): 36. Hereafter cited parenthetically. 2. Apprey, Broken lines, public memory, absent memory: Jewish and African Americans coming to terms with racism, in Mind and Human Interaction 7 (1996): 145. 3. Sigmund Freud, The aetiology of hysteria (1896), S.E. 3 4. Freud, Beyond the Pleasure Principle (1920), S.E. 18. 5. Freud, Moses and Monotheism (1939), S.E. 23. 6. Apprey and Margery Daniel, Radicalizing a developmental history of instinctual goals into a transgenerational object relations theory: a continuing effort, in Melanie Klein and Object Relations 12 (1994): 115. 7. Jean Laplanche, New Foundations for Psychoanalysis, tr. D. Macey (Oxford: Basic Blackwell, 1989) and Essays on Otherness, tr. J. Fletcher (New York: Routledge, 1999). 8. Nicolas Abraham and Maria Torok, Mourning or melancholia: Introjection versus incor- poration, in The Shell and the Kernel (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1994 [1972]) and The lost object me: Notes on endocryptic identification, in The Shell and the Kernel (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1994 [1975]). 9. Melanie Klein, Notes on some schizoid mechanisms, in The Selected Melanie Klein, ed. J. Mitchell (New York: The Free Press, 1987). 10. Wilfred Bion, Attacks on linking, in Second Thoughts (New York: Aronson, 1967). 11. Apprey, Broken lines, public memory, absent memory, 145. Blackwell Publishers Ltd. 2002 Racism and Psychoanalysis: Alan Bass 283