Our Inner Partner: Jung on the Anima and Animus
“Just as outwardly we live in a world where a whole continent may be submerged at any moment, or a pole shifted, or a new pestilence break out, so inwardly we live in a world where at any moment something similar may occur, albeit in the form of an idea, but no less dangerous and untrustworthy for that. Failure to adapt to this inner world is a negligence entailing just as serious consequences as ignorance and ineptitude in the outer world….”[1]
“… the anima… is yet only one archetype among many. Therefore, she is not characteristic of the unconscious in its entirety. She is only one of its aspects. This is shown by the very fact of her femininity. What is not-I, not masculine, is most probably feminine, and because the not-I is felt as not belonging to me and therefore as outside me, the anima-image is usually projected upon women.”[2]
“Whereas the old science was almost exclusively a field in which only the man’s unconscious could project itself, the new psychology had to acknowledge the existence of an autonomous female psyche as well. Here the case is reversed, and a feminine consciousness confronts a masculine personification of the unconscious, which can no longer be called anima but animus.”[3]
“…The anima is …[in] the inner world, where she functions as the medium between the ego and the unconscious, as does the persona between the ego and the environment.”[4]
Ever mindful of the unconscious and its contents, Jung was aware that, as the quote above indicates, we all live in both the outer world, and also in an inner world full of characters we must not neglect. One of the most important of these psychic figures is the anima/animus, a syzygy which comprises our “contrasexual side,” and plays a major role in life, especially in close partnerships and marriage. In this essay I will begin by noting Jung’s definitions for both concepts, then discuss their features and functions, and conclude with comments about the role and importance of the inner partner. I also append a note to update this topic and suggest how Jung might respond to our current reality.
Definitions
Jung defined the anima as “exclusively a figure that compensates the masculine consciousness,” as it has a “feminine gender.”[5] Jung then goes on to note that “… it was no easy task to describe what is meant by the anima,…” but Jung tried, filling six columns of the Index to his Collected Works with references to the anima.[6] In writing about our contrasexual side Jung had much more to say about masculine psychology than about the feminine equivalent.
But he tried, regarding the animus as parallel to the man’s animus: “In a woman the compensating figure is of a masculine character, and can therefore appropriately be termed the animus.”[7] Since the anima resided in Jung’s unconscious, it was hard for him to describe it. Not being a woman, Jung found that “the difficulties become almost insuperable when we set out to describe the psychology of the animus.”[8] Which may be why Jung’s references to the animus consume only two columns in the Index to his writings. [9]
Based on his experience with his patients, Jung came to view these contrasexual energies as a “kind of persona… but a persona of a compensatory nature which (in a man) could be called the anima. The anima would thus be a compromise formation between the individual and the unconscious world,…” frequently met in dreams, “where it appears as a feminine being in a man, and as a man (animus) in a woman.”[10]
Features
The two concepts are easier to understand if we note their features and functions. In this section I discuss the features of both, taking the anima first, as Jung gave it so much more attention than he did to the animus.
In the Index to Jung’s Collected Works, there are 107 features listed for the anima,[11] some relating to mythological or alchemical figures the anima can represent (e.g. Diana, the Melusine, the Kore, Miriam, the Queen in alchemy, Eve, the serpent, the sybilline, Sophia, and the witch),[12] others to qualities the anima often carries in a man’s unconscious (e.g. ambivalence, emotionality, eroticism, fatedness, jealousy, moodiness, and possessiveness).[13] As the anima is an archetype, it has the features of any archetype, e.g. autonomy, bi-polarity, and numinosity,[14] and it comes with qualities that relate to the specific man and his history and relationship with his mother[15] (e.g. negative–non-ideal, fear-filled, the witch, and positive–the beloved, the wise).[16]
Jung often found the anima was a problem in therapy:[17] It showed up regularly in men’s neuroses, and it was often at the root of problems in men’s relationships, both with women and other men.[18] Assimilating and integrating the anima was also a part of the challenge of individuation.[19]
The animus presents the same challenge for a woman, and like the anima, the animus is autonomous, bi-polar and numinous.[20] Just as a man’s mother will color his anima, so a woman’s father will influence the qualities of her animus.[21] In the 53 features listed in CW 20,[22] the son-hero is the only mythic figure,[23] and, unlike the relational qualities of the anima, the animus Jung linked to rationalities, e.g. a priori assumptions, argument, discernment, intellectualism, opinions, thinking and Logos (the archetype of reason, mentation and the intellect).[24]
Both in therapy and in his dealings with the many “Valkyries” who surrounded, served and idolized Jung,[25] the animus would pose problems, e.g. the argumentative nature of the “animus-hound,”[26] the dogmatism of women into control,[27] and the opinionated convictions of women eager to prove their points.[28] Jung had to contend for years with such “animus-ridden” women,[29] many of whom had natal Moon squaring their natal Mercury (an indicator of an internal clash between heart and head).[30]
Functions
Some functions the contrasexual archetypes shared. Both anima and animus were compensatory, i.e. they sought to balance the gendered orientation of the ego with its opposite.[31] So, in a man, the anima helped to compensate his conscious masculinity, just as the animus balances a woman’s conscious femininity.
More broadly, both these archetypes played a mediating function between the conscious and the unconscious,[32] serving as the psychopomp linking the ego mind with the riches in the unconscious.[33] In this way, they both carry creative potential:[34] just as it requires a joint effort by male and female to create a baby, so the inner contrasexual archetype can fecundate the conscious mind to produce art, music and literature.
The anima and animus are often personified,[35] which may explain the “love at first sight” phenomenon. A woman who carries the unconscious image of his anima can beguile a man instantly,[36] while a man personifying a woman’s animus may get her attention in a way other men would not.
Another important function of these archetypes Jung drew upon in therapy: the actions of the psychopomp.[37] Because anima and animus live in our unconscious, we are not usually aware of them, but analysis, or a regular dreamwork practice, can activate the inner energy (aka the “psychopomp”) that links our conscious mind to the unconscious. When he worked with his patients, Jung would observe how the psychopomp provided dreams, images and intuitions (both in him and his patient) that helped the healing process.[38] So it can be with us, if we are aware of, respect and value the psychopomp and ask for its help in our endeavor to become more conscious.[39]
The Role of the Inner Partner
The creative and mediatory functions of the anima/animus are two important roles these archetypes play. Beyond linking our ego minds with our unconscious, and fostering our creative efforts, the anima and animus play a central role in our dealings with people, and especially with the opposite sex.[40]
In any interpersonal encounter, we bring our whole selves to the situation, including those parts of ourselves who got wounded early in life. This can explain the difficulties a man might have with a woman who reminds him of his negative mother, e.g. the dragon mother who had a castrating nature, or the smother mother who hovered and was so overprotective she made him feel suffocated, or the stone mother who could never summon an appropriate feeling in the moment–the list of versions of the negative mother is long and Jung wrote about them at length.[41] Likewise, a woman whose father was absent, critical, abusive or negligent will bring her inner wounded child to relationships with men, often unconsciously attracted to just those men who carry the qualities of the negative father.
How often I have heard a woman lament that “there are no good men out there,” but in reality this is not true. It seems true to her because the psyche brings to us those experiences and persons we need in order to work on our complexes. That the process repeats over and over, with frustration and disappointment, is a sign of the “repetition compulsion” that is meant to get us to wake up–eventually: some times it takes a dozen repeats, sometimes just a few. Repetition is how we learn,[42] and how the Self (our inner wisdom) is nudging us to wake up, spot the pattern, take back the projection (that the problem is “out there,” with men) and introject it,[43] so we come to see the problem is in us. The more conscious we become of our inner partner, its features, qualities and origins, the more likely we are to develop harmonious, satisfying and fulfilling relationships with other people, both men and women.
An Update on Jung’s Ideas
All the above concepts were drawn from Jung’s own writings. He was a German-speaking Swiss born in 1875,[44] so in 2024, he would be of the age cohort several generations in the past. That is, the realities we face now–with gender fluidity, trans-gender, bi-sexuality, gender reassignment surgery, etc.–Jung never encountered in his conservative, traditional culture.
To the question “What would Jung make of all this?” I can only venture some hypotheses: First, he never condemned anyone: he was a physician, so his instinctive reaction to a situation was non-judgmental and oriented to helping relieve suffering.[45] Second, he would ask the individual for an anamnesis, i.e. his/her unique personal history, including the nature of the relationships with the parents, siblings and other relatives.[46]
Third, he would want to listen attentively to the voice of the psyche, as it spoke through dreams, synchronicities, intuitions and bodily sensations–his own and those of the individual.[47] This, because Jung was loathe to impose his own ideas (prejudices?) on another, relying on the wisdom of the psyche to guide his actions and therapies.
Fourth, before he would recommend any irrevocable actions (e.g. surgeries), Jung would give the psyche time to convey its wisdom, i.e. Jung would want the individual to work with him therapeutically, doing dream analysis, watching outer life for guidance from events and activities, and observing the interactions the person has with others. Jung knew the psyche speaks in many ways (not all verbal)[48] and Jung was quick to spot when wisdom was being given to them (Jung and his patient).
Finally, using his keen intuition to bring all the input (history, dreamwork, therapeutic experiences, the patient’s own development, preferences and wishes), Jung would craft a comprehensive picture of both the situation and what seemed advisable as a course of action.[49]
Note that none of this was quick, nor was it ego-based. It recognized the outer-life situation but also took account of the inner realities, giving preference to neither outer nor inner. It would resolutely ignore the political hoopla and cultural polarization associated with this issue.[50] Most importantly, it valued the psyche, the patient’s own inner wisdom, and it would give the psyche both time and space to be heard.
Bibliography
Anthony, Maggy (1990), The Valkyries: The Women Around Jung. Shaftesbury: Element Books.
Bair, Deirdre (2003), Jung: A Biography. Boston: Little Brown & Co.
Haggard, H. Rider (1981), She. Amsterdam: Chevalier.
Jung, C.G. (1961), Freud and Psychoanalysis. Collected Works, 4. Princeton: Princeton University Press.
________ (1956), Symbols of Transformation. Collected Works, 5. Princeton: Princeton University Press.
________ (1966), Two Essays on Analytical Psychology. Collected Works, 7. Princeton: Princeton University Press.
________ (1959), Archetypes and the Collective Unconscious. Collected Works, 9i. Princeton: Princeton University Press.
________ (1959), Aion. Collected Works, 9ii. Princeton: Princeton University Press.
________ (1970), Civilization in Transition. Collected Works, 10. Princeton: Princeton University Press.
________ (1969), Psychology and Religion, West and East. Collected Works, 11. Princeton: Princeton University Press.
________ (1953), Psychology and Alchemy. Collected Works, 12. Princeton: Princeton University Press.
________ (1967), Alchemical Studies. Collected Works, 13. Princeton: Princeton University Press.
________ (1963), Mysterium Coniunctionis. Collected Works, 14. Princeton: Princeton University Press.
________ (1954), The Practice of Psychotherapy. Collected Works, 16. Princeton: Princeton University Press.
________ (1954), The Development of Personality. Collected Works, 17. Princeton: Princeton UniversityPress.
________ (1965), Memories, Dreams, Reflections. New York: Vintage Books.
________ (1976), The Symbolic Life. Collected Works, 18. Princeton: Princeton University Press.
________ (1979), General Index to the Collected Works of C.G. Jung, complied by Barbara Forryan & Janet Glover. Princeton: Princeton University Press.
[1] CW 7, ¶326
[2] CW 9i ¶58.
[3] Ibid. ¶296.
[4] CW 13, ¶223, n. 15.
[5] Ibid. ¶328.
[6] CW 20, pp. 51-54.
[7] CW 7 ¶328.
[8] Ibid.
[9] CW 20, pp. 75-76.
[10] CW 7 ¶507.
[11] CW 20, pp. 51-54.
[12] CW 14 ¶193; CW 13 ¶180; CW 9i ¶310; CW 9ii ¶329; CW 14 ¶736; CW 16 ¶519; CW 5 ¶678; CW 14 ¶287; CW 16 ¶518; and CW 9i ¶s 54, 61, 62 & 356, respectively.
[13] CW 9i ¶357; CW 13 ¶457; CW 16 ¶519; CW 10 ¶714; CW 7 ¶320; CW 11 ¶48; and CW 9i ¶223, respectively.
[14] CW 5 ¶563; CW 9i ¶356, and CW 16 ¶438, respectivity.
[15] CW 5 ¶484, 508 & 605.
[16] CW 9ii ¶425, CW 14 ¶216, 539 & 613.
[17] CW 9ii ¶58.
[18] CW 9i ¶115.
[19] CW 7 ¶384 & CW 9ii ¶s33&40.
[20] CW 7 ¶370; cw 5 ¶611; CW 9ii ¶425.
[21] CW 14 ¶232.
[22] CW 20, pp. 75-76.
[23] CW 5 ¶466.
[24] CW 10 ¶90; CW 9i ¶29; CW 16 ¶505; CW 9ii ¶58; CW 11 ¶48; CW 10 ¶80; & CW 13 ¶60, respectively.
[25] CW 10 ¶389, 393; for a vivid account of the activities of these women around Jung, see Anthony (1990).
[26] CW 7 ¶336.
[27] CW 16 ¶442.
[28] CW 5 ¶458.
[29] CW 9ii ¶29.
[30] CW 9i ¶606 note.
[31] CW 7 ¶S 304 & 328.
[32] CW 10 ¶715 & CW 9i ¶350.
[33] CW 12 ¶74 & CW 11 ¶33.
[34] CW 12 ¶242.
[35] CW 7 ¶332.
[36] For an excellent example of this which Jung noted, see Haggard (1981); cf. CW 7 ¶298-299.
[37] CW 14 ¶282.
[38] CW 9ii ¶56 & ¶33.
[39] Asking is essential, as the Self will never violate our free will; by asking, we are implicitly stating we are open to receiving help.
[40] CW 9i ¶487.
[41] CW 5 ¶s254,264,352,369, 379, 395, 396, 484, 548, 571, 577, 646, 658, 671; CW 7 ¶396; CW 18 ¶193 & 234.
[42] CW 4 ¶106.
[43] CW 7 ¶110.
[44] Bair (2003), 18.
[45] CW 18 ¶1512.
[46] CW 17 ¶177-180.
[47] CW 5 ¶6.
[48] Most often dreams “speak” in images or situations; ibid.
[49] CW 10 ¶337.
[50] CW 9i, ¶477; Jung felt politicians are given to playing “monkey tricks.”
