IN ENGLISH
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Children in Genocide:
Extreme traumatization and affect regulation
This book, containing untold suffering by children caught in the midst of
extreme social violence, gives voice to their unthinkable, unspeakable
experience and makes this into a telling psychoanalytic story. It is a story of
how the developing minds of these children grapple with the memories the
experiences of genocide create and the triumphs and debilities which the
struggle can leave in its wake. Kaplan listens with her psychoanalytic 'third'
ear but, remarkably, also gives scientific consideration to what she is hearing
and follows through her sophisticated theoretical analysis with a grounded
theory-based qualitative study.
Peter Fonagy
Foreword by Arnold H Modell
A distinguished anthropologist once said: “humanity
is a species that can live only in terms of meaning
it itself must invent”. We who are witness to the
horrors of the Holocaust and other genocides such as
in Rwanda can only attempt to make meaning of this
horrendous history. The enormous outpouring of books
related to the Holocaust attests to the endeavour to
understand that which is beyond all understanding.
Human beings, when deprived of their humanity, teach
us how the human soul, the self, can be preserved
when threatened with extinction. If there is
anything positive to be gained from all of this
horror, it is that small measure of understanding.
Suzanne Kaplan, by immersing herself in the
horrendous experiences of the survivors of the
Holocaust and genocide in Rwanda, showed that
listening—which must have been extremely painful—is
in itself an act of courage. The atrocities
committed in Rwanda, solely for one’s ethnicity,
resemble the atrocities committed by the Nazis.
Despite this emotional cost, she was able to enter
into the narrative of these survivors yet retain her
clear-sightedness and conceptual clarity.
Bearing witness is a gift. For me, what was most
striking in the accounts of those who were children
when they became victims of the Holocaust is the
fact that the memory of their traumatic experience
was retained in exquisite, almost novelistic detail.
Massive denial or repression was not in evidence.
What is of significance is that these individuals
were not only survivors, but as adults were able to
establish relatively normal lives. In contrast is
the report of Dori Laub (2005), who interviewed
individuals who managed to stay alive during the
Holocaust but were subsequently hospitalized in
Europe and later hospitalized in Israel and
diagnosed as psychotic. Many of these patients were
silent and did not speak to anyone. What is of great
significance is the fact that these victims did not
remember their experience. Laub reports that there
is an underlying common thread to all of them, and
that is that the memories of their experiences have
been massively erased. It is if they have forgotten
everything that had happened to them, as if the
experience of massive trauma never took place. It
was, Laub reports, as if the memory was registered
and kept frozen in a different part of the brain
that had no access to consciousness.
The striking difference between these two groups
is that those survivors who managed to reach Sweden,
whom Kaplan interviewed and coordinated under the
auspices of the USC Shoah Foundation Institute,
retained a complex and nuanced narrative of their
experience. Not only did they remember their
suffering during the Holocaust, but a least one
interviewee used memory to recall a sense of self
that existed prior to the Holocaust. He described
how “a rock of salvation for me” was his ability to
recall within his mind over and over again the happy
memory of his family celebrating Passover before the
Shoah. (The evidence of a survivor’s ability to
retain a complex, contextually accurate memory of
his or her traumatic experience can be seen in the
interviews with Emilia that are recorded in the
Appendix.)
Those survivors who became psychotic lost the
narrative of their trauma, while those survivors who
established relatively normal lives retained a
narrative of their traumatized self. From this we
can conclude that the retrieval of the memory of
feelings is essential for the survival of the self.
The self is maintained through narrative affective
memory. For reasons that are unclear, those
survivors who ended up as psychotic patients in
Israel did not retain the capacity to preserve their
narrative memory of their horrendous trauma.
One may argue that those survivors who became
psychotic lost narrative memory because of some
cognitive process related to their psychosis. I
suspect, however, that it was the other way
around—that they became psychotic because they lost
their narrative memory. Although they were diagnosed
as schizophrenic, Laub questions that diagnosis and
reports no specific symptoms such as hallucinations
that are characteristic of that illness.
A non-specific “functional” psychosis would fit
my hypothesis. This is not to imply that those
survivors who found safety in Sweden escaped damage
to their sense of self. In reading these interviews,
one has to remind oneself that one is not listening
to the voices of children, but to the voices of
adults recalling their childhood. It is as if the I
who experienced the trauma is not differentiated in
age from the I recalling the memory of the trauma.
Normally when one thinks of oneself as a child, the
adult self and the childhood self are clearly
differentiated.
Our sense of self is commonly an integrated
though an uneven procession of former selves, which
we recognize as the same as well as distinct. The
massive trauma of the Holocaust has clearly
interfered with this process. There has been a
collapse in the time dimension of the self. Kaplan
has observed this phenomenon throughout all of these
narratives. One survivor said: “I can’t have a child
because I’m a child myself.” Many survivors seem to
be age-disoriented and therefore cannot judge their
own age and also the age of their relatives. From
this we can infer that massive trauma disrupts the
sense of continuity of the self from which our
experience of time is derived. There is much about
this process that remains unknown, but I suspect
that these histories are witness to a failure of
what Freud described as Nachträglichkeit, the
failure to recontextualize or re-categorize memory,
in which metaphor plays a salient part (Modell,
2003). It may be that, normally, the process of
recontextualizing memory provides a sense of the
continuity of the self and contributes to our
experience of the expansion of time. Kaplan
introduces two organizing conceptual principles:
perforating and space creating. The concept
perforating is consistent with Freud’s theory of
trauma, which was later elaborated by Anzieu’s
conception of the skin ego (Anzieu, 1985). Both
Anzieu and Freud focus upon the effect of trauma on
the ego or the self. In Beyond the Pleasure
Principle, Freud thought of the self as a protective
envelope, shield, or membrane.
Freud wrote: “protection against stimuli is an
almost more important function for the living
organism than the reception of stimuli” (Freud,
1920g, p. 27). He also said: “we described as
traumatic any excitations from outside which are
powerful enough to break through the protective
shield. This seems to me that the concept of trauma
necessarily implies a connection of this kind with
the breach in an otherwise efficacious barrier
against stimuli” (italics added). Anzieu extended
Freud’s theory of trauma by focusing on the skin as
an example of the envelope of the self.
Kaplan’s interviews provide countless painful
descriptions of the envelope of the child’s self
being repeatedly penetrated by the perpetrators. The
penetration of stimuli through the skin is
particularly relevant in Holocaust survivors.
Mothers commonly protect children and induce a sense
of safety through holding and touching, all of which
contributes to a feeling of warmth. These survivors
suffered enormously as children from the cold and
the continual invasion of body lice. Furthermore,
the bodily self, the skin ego, was invaded and
violated by the perpetrators, who removed their
clothing and jewellery. The skin ego is not only a
protective barrier, but is also an affirmation of
self-hood through the selective expression of bodily
adornment. Children’s jewellery, in addition, is
also a concrete reminder, a talisman, of a tie to
one’s family. Therefore, the removal of clothing and
jewellery is a further step towards dehumanization.
Penetration of the self, in resilient children, may
be compensated for by attempts at restoration of the
self. Psychological survival may depend upon another
process that Kaplan describes as space creating: an
attempt by the victim to restore a sense of self,
and a sense of self that relates to others.
From Kaplan’s theory I would understand space
creating to consist of two different processes. The
first is to create a boundary around the self that
allows one to think and to fantasize, which in turn
reaffirms one’s own existence. The other function is
to reaffirm the self through making contact with
members of the group. Kaplan notes the children’s
preoccupation with the facial expression of the
adults. Bonds are established through eye contact,
but scanning the face of others can also be used as
an early warning signal. In both instances, eye
contact reinforces a social bond.
The other’s recognition of the self is necessary
for self-affirmation. Kaplan reports that one
survivor heard her neighbours say: “‘I wonder what
she is thinking about.’ I remember that my reaction
was, ‘What do they mean, thinking, I’m not thinking
anything. What do you do when you think? What does
that mean?’ Then it suddenly occurred to me that
‘maybe that’s what I am doing after all, when I sit
here not saying anything but still talking to myself
in my own head, maybe that’s what thinking is’.”
This survivor felt affirmed by the other’s
recognition that she was a thinking human being.
Thinking is what selves do. If one thinks, one still
exists. Kaplan recognizes that feeling is a form of
knowing, and that trauma profoundly disrupts this
cognitive process.
The relation between feeling, memory, and knowing
is extremely complex. I believe that metaphor is the
currency of the emotional mind. We use memory to
categorize experience, and in turn the affect
categories that we establish in our minds are
organized in accordance with metaphoric similarities
and differences (Modell, 2003). In health, our past
experiences are re-categorized, which Freud
described as Nachträglichkeit. In trauma, this
metaphoric process, which accepts the simultaneity
of sameness and difference, is degraded. Recognizing
the simultaneity of sameness and difference is
implicit when one, as an adult, remembers oneself as
a child. This capacity appears to be lost in many of
the survivors. This loss, in Holocaust survivors, of
the capacity to think metaphorically was previously
observed by Grubrich-Simitis (1984).
I believe that this cognitive failure has
contributed to the lack of continuity in the sense
of self that Kaplan reports as age distortion. I
look upon Children in Genocide as a gift to the
reader that represents an outstanding act of courage
on the part of its author, Suzanne Kaplan.
Review:
Children in Genocide: Extreme traumatization
and affect regulation