The Personality Problem - NYTimes.com In the 19th century, sermons were a big deal. They'd be reprinted in newspapers. In the 20th century, psychoanalysts were a big deal. There were a number of best-selling authors spinning theories about the psyche, which had a large impact on how people saw the world and themselves. This includes not only Freud and Jung, but also people like Erick Erikson, Erich Fromm, Carl Rogers, Viktor Frankl and Philip Rieff. Today we're more into cognition and the brain. Over the years, attention has shifted from the soul to the personality to decision-making. Preoccupations have migrated from salvation to psychic security to success. When it comes to treating mental illness, I guess I'm glad we've made this shift. I put more faith in medications and cognitive therapies than in Freudian or Jungian analysis. But something has been lost as well as gained. We're less adept at talking about personalities and neuroses than we were when psychoanalysts held center stage. For example, in the middle of the 20th century, a woman named Karen Horney (pronounced HOR-nigh) crafted a series of influential theories about personality. Like many authors of these intellectually ambitious theories, she was raised in Europe and migrated to the United States before World War II. More than most of her male counterparts, Horney felt that people were driven by anxiety and the desire for security. People who have been seriously damaged, she argued, tend to react in one of three ways. Some people respond to their wounds by moving against others. These domineering types seek to establish security by conquering and outperforming other people. They deny their own weaknesses. They are rarely plagued by self-doubt. They fear dependence and helplessness. They use their children and spouses as tools to win prestige for themselves. These people are often excessively proud of their street smarts. They deeply resent criticism and seek the vindictive triumph - the reversal of fortunes in which they can lord their excellence over those who scorned them. These people can't face their need for affection, so they seek to cover it by earning admiration and deference. Other people respond to anxiety by moving toward others. These dependent types try to win people's affections by being compliant. They avoid conflict. They become absorbed by their relationships, surrendering their individual opinions. They regard everyone else as essentially good, even people who have been cruel. They praise themselves for their long-suffering forbearance, their willingness to live for others, even though in reality they are just too scared to assert themselves. They think they are behaving selflessly, but they are really using others for whatever drips of affection they can provide. Other people move away from others. These detached types try to isolate themselves and adopt an onlooker's attitude toward life. As Terry D. Cooper summarizes the category in his book, "Sin, Pride and Self-Acceptance," "To guarantee peace, it is necessary to leave the battleground of interpersonal relationships, where there is constant threat of being captured." These detached people may put on a charming veneer to keep people away. They tamp down desire, avoid ambition and minimize conflict and risk. They want to avoid the feeling of needing someone. They seek to live tranquilly in the moment. The domineering person believes that, if he wins life's battles, nothing can hurt him. The dependent person believes that, if he shuns private gain and conforms to the wishes of others, then the world will treat him nicely. The detached person believes that, if he asks nothing of the world, the world will ask nothing of him. These are ideal types, obviously, conceptual categories. They join a profusion of personality types that were churned out by various writers in the mid-20th century: the inner directed, the outer directed, the Organization Man, the anal retentive, the narcissist, the outsider. The books that explained these theories were good bad books. The good bad book (I'm deriving the category from a phrase from Orwell) makes sweeping claims, and lumps people into big groups. Sometimes these claims are not really defensible intellectually. But they are thought-provoking and useful. They provide categories and handles the rest of us can use to understand the people around us, seeing where the category fits and thinking more precisely about where it doesn't. We're probably poorer now that people like Horney have sunk to near oblivion - less adept at analyzing personality. We probably have less practice analyzing personalities, whether it's the people around us or even, say, presidential candidates. More than that, the vocabulary you use shapes what you pay attention to. If you learn about the cognitive skills that lead to success, you'll think a lot about success. If you learn a lot about personality, you'll think a lot about personality. Which is more important?