In my 1984 book on The Foundations of Psychoanalysis, I addressed two main questions: (1) Are the analyst’s observations in the clinical setting reliable as ‘data,’ and (2) if so, can they actually support the major hypotheses of the theory of repression or psychic conflict, which is the cornerstone of the psychoanalytic edifice, as we know? In the book, I argued for giving a negative answer to both of these questions. Clearly, if the evidence from the couch is unreliable from the outset, then this defect alone suffices to jeopardize the very foundations of the clinical theory. But, as I strongly emphasized, even if clinical data were not contaminated by the analyst’s influence, the inability of the psychoanalytic method of clinical investigation by free association to warrant the required sort of causal inferences leaves the major pillars of the theory of psychic conflict ill-supported (1984, 172). Thus, I see a two-fold threat to the psychoanalytic case-study method as a means of scientific inquiry.

It is an immediate corollary of my challenge that it applies not only to Freud’s own original hypotheses, but also to any and all post-Freudian versions of psychoanalysis that rely on his clinical methods of validating causal inferences, though the specific content of their theories of psychic conflict is different. After all, the alteration in the content of the hypotheses hardly makes their validation more secure. Therefore, as Morris Eagle documented in a recent publication (1983), those analysts who have objected to my critique as anachronistic have simply not come to grips with it. For example, such inadequate engagement is present, in my view, in the recent Freud Anniversary Lecture ‘Psychoanalysis as a Science: A Response to the New Challenges,’ given by Robert Wallerstein (1986), the current president of the International Psychoanalytical Association. As he tells us (1988, 6, n.1), ‘The Freud Anniversary Lecture was intended primarily as a response to Grünbaum.’ Yet he does not come to grips at all with the gravamen of my challenge: Even if clinical data could be taken at face value as being uncontaminated epistemically, the inability of the psychoanalytic method of clinical investigation by free association to warrant causal inferences leaves the major pillars of the clinical theory of repression ill-supported.

Adolf Grünbaurn’s criticisms of psychoanalytic theory are the most sustained and powerful effort in our time to make the philosophy of science useful, useful in the pursuit of theories and evidence and useful in the relief of suffering. His work shows, I think, that some important claims that psychoanalytic theory has achieved certain scientific goals at best express unjustified hopes. These failures will not discourage those who think that the goals of the human sciences are radically different from those of the natural sciences. But, like Professor Griinbaum (and, as he has shown, in rich detail, like Freud), I don’t think there is a relevant difference, here. Psychoanalytic theory, like any field of science, strives for at least approximately true descriptions of causes, that are justified in light of the data.

Still, I think that there is a core of psychoanalytic theory that is empirically justified. Moreover, most (though not quite all) people whose theoretical commitments are psychoanalytic are now fully committed to no more than this core. In responding to his paper, ‘The Role of the Case Study Method in the Foundations of Psychoanalysis,’ I’ll start by sketching this core, indicating why I take it to embody the same scientific goals as familiar, well-justified natural-scientific theories. My view of the goals of theorizing is so basic to my failure to be converted by Professor Griinbaum that this prelude will be the longest part of my comments. If it turns out that he doesn’t want to convert someone with this kind of theory, i.e., that these claims for psychoanalysis are acceptable to him - that will itself be significant as clarifying the aims of his important work.

Here’s a problem that any reliability theory must face, whether it’s one that holds that beliefs are justified just when they’re products of belief-forming mechanisms with the potential of having good records of yielding true beliefs (as in Goldman 1979 and 1986), or one that holds that a belief meets the standards for knowledge if and only if its causal basis rules out any relevant chance of mistake (as in Dretske 1971 and 1981, and Nozick 1981). The problem is made evident when cast in probabilistic terms. Let r be S’s reason for tokening the true belief that p under conditions c. Then, according to reliabilism (and with a number of other things being equal), Sis justified in believing that p under c iff r makes it sufficiently probable that p, whileS knows that p iff the conditional probability that p on r and c is unity. But how do we specify the belief context c to be counted as epistemically relevant? As urged recently by John Pollock (1984), on the face of it there seems to be no principled reason for excluding mention of the truth value of the proposition believed. As he says, ‘The only obvious way to construct an objective non-epistemic kind of definite probability is to make it conditional on everything that is true [at the belief’s tokening]’ (Pollock 1984, 110); and, as he notes, ‘one feature of the present circumstances is a characterization of the belief as a belief in [p ], and another feature is the truth value of [p]’ (109). But if we allow both the belief token and its truth value membership in the relevant belief context, we then have the hopeless task of explaining how the probability of the token’s being true can be anything but one or zero, one if what is believed is true, and zero if it’s false. This in tum would commit reliabilism to the foolish doctrines that a belief’s truth is sufficient for knowledge, while no false belief is ever even justified. No wonder, then, that Pollock says ‘there is no way to construct an intelligible notion of reliability which does the job required by the reliabilist’ (105). And he is surely right in this: Neither knowledge nor justification can be explained as the chance of a belief’s being true if the relevant belief context is required to mention both the belief tokened and its truth value. We would be engaged in a comparably pointless task were we to try to explain the likelihood of a wager’s being a good bet on a horse race when we had to include among the givens both which horse was picked and its finish, or were we to try to make sense of the assertion that a theory’s predictions have a good chance of being true when both what the theory predicts and its outcome had to be included among the givens. (Quine makes a similar point when he says, ‘If there is no distinguishing between a thing’s disposition to act in a certain way in certain circumstances and the mere fact of its so acting in those circumstances, then whatever the thing may do can be laid to a disposition, by defining the circumstances narrowly enough’ [Quine 1973, 5]. See also Goldman 1979, 12; Goldman 1986, 49-51; and Feldman 1985 for related discussions.)

The neo-Lockean justification of the highly unequal distribution of income in capitalist societies is based upon two key premises: that people are the rightful owners of their labor and talents, and that the external world was, in the state of nature, unowned, and therefore up for grabs by people, who could rightfully appropriate parts of it subject to a ‘Lockean proviso.’ The argument is presented by Nozick. Counter-proposals to Nozick’s, for the most part, have either denied the premise that people should morally be viewed as the owners of their talents, or have challenged Nozick’s Lockean proviso.

Rawls, and to a more limited extent Ronald Dworkin, deny self-ownership. As Rawls writes: ‘…the difference principle represents, in effect, an agreement to regard the distribution of natural talents as a common asset … The naturally advantaged are not to gain merely because they are more gifted, but only to cover the costs of training and education and for using their endowments in ways that help the less fortunate as well. No one deserves his greater natural capacity nor merits a more favorable starting place in society.’ Behind the Rawlsian veil of ignorance, those who deliberate about justice are deprived of knowledge about characteristics whose distribution is morally arbitrary. In Dworkin’s proposal for resource egalitarianism, agents calculate the insurance policy they would hypothetically ask for, were they denied knowledge of what talents they will draw in the birth lottery. Compensation for unequal talents is, according to Dworkin, properly made by taxing and transferring income according to the way it would have been distributed as a consequence of such insurance. Dworkin’s veil of ignorance is thin, because agents in the appropriate posture for deliberating about income distribution know their preferences and attitudes toward risk, but not their talents. For both Rawls and Dworkin, the self-ownership premise is challenged by constructing a veil of ignorance in which people are deprived of knowledge of certain personal characteristics, knowledge of which would bias their opinions, from a moral viewpoint.

Jerome Bickenbach has provided a fair and sympathetic account of my argument in Trials and Punishments, and has clarified some of the book’s obscurities - for which I am very grateful: I will focus my response on his main objection to my account of punishment, since I am not persuaded that the objection holds.

Bickenbach argues that my ideal account of what punishment ought to be if it is to be adequately justified would actually show, if it succeeds, that criminal punishment (or at least punishment involving hard treatment) cannot be justified at all. ‘Criminal punishment, it would appear, is unjustifiable when it is needed, but justifiable only if it is no longer required’ (786). It would be justifiable if it was imposed on a criminal who shared the values embodied in the laws of the true community to which she belonged: but it would then be unnecessary, since in such cases ‘blame alone’ (or, one might add, a formal conviction or a purely symbolic punishment) would suffice for the communicative and persuasive purposes which punishment should ideally serve. It would be necessary if the criminal was a committed nonconformist who rejected the community’s values: but it would then be unjustifiable, since in such cases it could not serve the purposes which punishment should ideally serve.