On Working Clinically with Sexual Offenders: An Interview with Dr James Cates

When I was first introduced to Dr James Cates about five years ago, it was in a lecture in which he talked about the unique challenges of doing clinical work with the abundant Amish population (third largest in the country) in northern Indiana. I was fascinated by this work in part because it focused on sexual abuse inside a religious community, and I had myself just finished a book on sexual abuse inside the Catholic Church. 

About a year later, I had the great good fortune to read his elegantly written and fascinating book, Serpent in the Garden: Amish Sexuality in a Changing World, about which I interviewed him here. 

I brought him to one of my classes this past semester to lecture on working with the Amish and it was then I learned his newest book was about to make its appearance in print. I eagerly ordered and read Offenders and the Sexual Abuse of Children (Routledge, 2024), and then asked him for an interview about it. His thoughts are below.  

AD: Tell us about your background

James Cates: I graduated with a master’s degree in clinical psychology from George Mason University in Fairfax, Virginia. Jobs were sparse, so I did a nationwide search, and wound up employed in Fort Wayne, Indiana. I planned to stay a couple of years and move back to Virginia.

That was 1982. I’m still in Fort Wayne, looking for the right job to move back. 

Meanwhile, I received my doctorate in clinical rehabilitation psychology in 1993, became a board-certified clinical psychologist, and moved into private practice. Somewhere along the line I began teaching part-time at Purdue University-Fort Wayne, first undergraduate, and more recently in the mental health counseling program. I became involved with the Amish, a culture that I love dearly and respect deeply. I am now semi-retired, and continue to write and to do psychological testing and consultation. 

AD: Your previous books marked you out as the leading scholar-clinician on Amish psychology, so a book on sexual offenders might seem a significant new direction to move in. Are there any connections between these worlds?

JC: Sadly, more connections exist between the Amish and sexual offending than would be preferred. All three of my books on their culture include chapters that address sexual abuse: Serving the Amish: A Cultural Guide for Professionals; Serpent in the Garden: Amish Sexuality in a Changing World; and Dancing on the Devil’s Playground: The Amish Negotiate with Modernity. And mainstream media has picked up the storyline of hidden sexual abuse among the Amish, as among so many groups today, as a social ill in desperate need of change. 

I credit my work with the Amish for helping to broaden my perspective on sexual offending. Their culture is collective, emphasizing a communal and cooperative lifestyle, so that very few actions occur outside public awareness. Their culture also emphasizes forgiveness as a Christ-like virtue, so that sins are to be forgiven and forgotten. Consulting with both social service personnel and Amish ministers on how to handle issues of sexual abuse within the church, and counseling with Amish victims of sexual abuse and those who have sexually offended has given me an appreciation for the interwoven complexities of this behavior, and its impact on the family and community. This fallout is too often obscured as the justice system grinds into gear in mainstream culture.  

AD: The first part of your book helpfully situates what is to come in its social and historical context, especially in the anglophone world. As you survey this history, are there 2 or 3 outstanding factors you unearthed to help explain shifting perspectives on sexual offenses? 

JC: The idea that history is written by the victors is most recently attributed to Winston Churchill. That is so true when considering perspective on sexual offenses. With the caveat that I am neither a historian by training, nor am I an amateur historian, these are my thoughts.

The anglophone response to sexual abuse through the 19th and earlier 20th centuries was dictated by class and caste systems far more than an advocacy to protect all children. As horrible an indictment as that sounds, it fits within the broader disinterest in the rights and well-being of those of lower socioeconomic status. In this country, the status of African-Americans is the most obvious example. As the Civil War became a cause to end slavery, even many who were fervent abolitionists failed to perceive people of color as equal to whites. And these attitudes continued to be codified in law well into the mid-20th century. The backlash to these prejudices became an embrace of equality, and demand that the rights of all people be respected. One of the lasting legacies of this principled backlash has been a strong advocacy for the safety of children. Unfortunately, those who sexually offend then become pariahs in their own right. 

Another rarely considered historical factor was political necessity in the early years of gay rights. That portion of the nascent movement driven by gay men was enmeshed with men attracted to young boys. This uneasy truce lasted until it became clear that an alliance between men attracted to men and men attracted to boys was a detriment to social and political ambitions for the former, who acted to distance themselves from those who would now be termed minor-attracted. While the gay movement did not actively denigrate those who were minor-attracted, the implication was clear: we do not support that type of sexual activity. In that implication, one denigrated sexual minority made a case for its own worth by keeping its distance from another. (And in fairness, at the time those advocating same-sex attraction to boys were also advocating for the freedom to act on their sexual desires, a much different social and political agenda than those currently seeking status as minor-attracted.)   

AD: One of the themes in the background of your book seems to be how much we like to paint sexual offenders as bright red grotesques, whose features and causes we confidently feel we can immediately identify, but you note "there appear to be too many variables that contribute to the ultimate behavior to reliably predict patterns of sexual offending" (p.23). Later you note that when it comes to the risk of recidivism for sexual offenses "nothing even approaching a definitive response exists" (p36). Given the enormous publicity that attends sexual offenses, one might expect this to be a heavily researched area. What helps to explain the many lacunae in the clinical literature on these topics? 

JC: The problems in predicting the behavior that leads to sexual offending are myriad. A parallel example from several years ago in the area of substance use exemplifies the dilemma. At that time, studies repeatedly found that among 18–25-year-olds, over 50% were binge drinking on a regular basis. The first problem with this statistic is that by definition, if an 18–25-year-old was not binge drinking, they were abnormal, since they were in the minority. The second problem with this definition became the criteria for binge drinking. As studies began refining the definition of “binge drinking,” using differing criteria for the number of drinks consumed at one time, or within a certain time period, the percentage of those identified as binge drinkers began to vary too. Alcohol use was not significantly changing. The way research defined it was. 

When research looks at sexual offending, the same problem with definitions applies. What is the age of the victim? Legally, a “sex offender” label applies to someone who has sex with a five-year-old, or someone a week younger than the legal age of consent. Do the same dynamics of sexual, emotional, and romantic interest apply to these two individuals? What is the age range of interest for someone who has sexually offended? How often, or under what circumstances do the sexual offenses occur? Do we apply the same criteria to the uncle who molests his niece on two occasions, and the serial offender who has sexually offended against both genders multiple times?  Is there an element of power and control, or do they exhibit a romantic or regressive emotional interest in the younger partner? Not only is this a complex topic, but we do little to encourage those who have sexually offended to be open and honest about their sexual and psychological experiences. 

Research on recidivism in sexual offending is hampered by the shame, guilt, and risks that attend honesty. Consider a standard field research protocol. Participants must be known to have sexually offended. There is no potential to circulate a call for participants, such as can occur at a local 12-step meeting for those struggling with substance abuse who might like to give back to the community. There is no potential to ask counselors to share with clients who would qualify as participants. No, the only participants available are those who have been charged and convicted of a sexual offense. And the majority of these (now) criminals have no incentive to be honest about their behavior, beyond the behaviors for which they have been convicted. If they are, they run the risk of having even more charges added, and facing lengthier sentences. The individual struggling with alcohol or drug abuse, including illicit drugs, can share stories of past use with impunity. Not so the individual who has sexually offended.

The most accessible participants then, are those who have served a period of incarceration and are released. And the most easily obtained outcome measure is recidivism. Have they been arrested post-release for a sexual offense? And again, there is no incentive to be honest if they have not been caught. For the probationer who relapses and watches child pornography but escapes detection, there is no incentive to share that fact. We are then left with no understanding of the emotional and psychological forces that become overwhelming and lead to the decision to risk prison once again in order to fulfill this sexual need. The probationer who shares with a counselor that they have used alcohol, violating the rules of their release, faces minimal expectation that the counselor will report them. But the probationer who shares with a counselor that they have sexually offended, violating the rules of their release? A report is almost inevitable. 

And there is a need – clearly, there is a need – to protect potential victims of sexual offending. But in acknowledging that need, we fail to take into consideration the vague definition that the outcome measure “recidivism” must inevitably become. As another example, studies vary in the types of crimes they define as recidivism. Any violent crime? Or only a sexual crime? If a defendant is initially charged with a sexual crime, but it is reduced by plea bargain to a misdemeanor battery with no sexual component, is that recidivism? These are the types of decisions about definitions that vary from study to study, and complicate meta-analyses.  

AD: One of the (to my mind) peculiarities in treatment of adolescent vs. adult offenders is, as you note, offering the former a "rehabilitative model rather than a punitive one" (p.38). The latter model, when applied to adults (who are often related to their victims), often causes even further unintended hardship (as you note on p.78) and suffering by imprisoning the offender, causing a loss of income to the family and other problems. Is there any argument to be made about adopting a more rehabilitative model across the board for all offenders? What is the evidence we have about rehabilitation and its efficacy? 

The question goes to the broader issue of American attitudes toward rehabilitation. The statistic is hard to pin down, but we rank among the highest per capita incarceration rates among developed countries. We are more comfortable locking away those who offend than finding ways to manage them within the community. 

Restorative justice, the concept that accountability and reparation are more important than retribution and punishment, is beginning to make inroads into the justice system. We see it in the formation of drug courts and mental health courts, designed to treat substance abuse and mental illness primarily as disorders, rather than crimes to be adjudicated. Still, the emphasis on protection for the community means that rehabilitative models for those who sexually offend are slower to develop and slower to be implemented than for other populations. 

Rehabilitation for a particular population will relate to that population’s standing. Those who engage in criminal behavior are placed at the intersection of politics and science. There is a grim reality to the frequency with which Americans incarcerate those who commit crimes. Reducing the number of people likely to commit crimes who are on the streets does indeed contribute to a lower crime rate. So, at some point the issue becomes philosophical: to what extent is the drug dealer/drug user/burglar/child pornographer/etc. deserving of rehabilitation and a return to mainstream society? Only the to extent that we believe that a given population deserves rehabilitation do we begin to emphasize rehabilitation for them. And only to the extent we emphasize rehabilitation is it funded, analyzed, refined, and measured for its efficacy. 

An argument for extending rehabilitation? For those of us who argue for the worth of the individual over the erosion of civil rights and the staggering costs of incarceration, it is well worth it. For those of us who argue for the safety of the community over the worth of the individual? Rehabilitation is secondary to confinement.  And the argument is obviously not that black-and-white. Argue within the shades of gray and it becomes a tumultuous argument, indeed. 

AD: I thought my cynicism about the legal system was approaching bedrock level, but I confess it fell still further as I watched you judiciously sift and sort through the evidence for geographical restrictions on offenders, state-mandated offender registries, and similar tools of social control. Given that, as you show, we have virtually no empirical evidence for their utility, how are we to explain their ubiquity today--are they simply the perverse fruits of moral panic, a kind of "quarantining" or ghettoization of undesirables we see throughout human history going back to biblical leper colonies? 

JC: The high-profile kidnapping, sexual assault, and murder of several children resulted in federal laws that have shaped social control of those convicted of sexual offending. To some extent, it was a perfect storm of events: the public was clamoring for a sense of safety due to multiple events on the world stage that led to unrest and feelings of unease; the media hyped stories of child abduction and murder in an endless loop as the public became increasingly interested, and the media fed that interest; and social science had little or nothing in the way of evidence to support or refute proposed legislation. 

Once legislation was in place, research was playing catch-up to determine how effective it might be. Laws continued to be modified, expectations for registries continued to evolve, and research needed to change to match current expectations. By the time research was demonstrating that registries had no deterrent effect and geographic limitations were ineffective, both of these safeguards were entrenched in the public psyche as “deterrent measures.” For legislators it was no longer a matter of what might be effective. It was a matter of public demand. 

A demonstration of just how little evidence-based practice impacts social policy can be seen by placing gun ownership and sexual offending side by side. Mass shootings have become a norm in the United States – including in schools - but no one is seriously considering gun control, despite the evidence that gun control would work to reduce senseless deaths. Meanwhile, registries and geographic limitations on habitation do nothing to reduce sex offending, but we cling to them like a drowning man to a life preserver.

AD: At the end of ch.9 you note that "the necessary, fundamental change is a better understanding of a person who sexually offends." This seems so simple as to be almost startling, but I think it true. And yet I know from my students that the one population they all say they would struggle the most to work with, some of them expressing horror at the very thought, is that of sexual offenders. What are some of the most startling or surprising insights for you working with sexual offenders--what have you learned from them?

JC: Let me start the answer to this question indirectly, and wind my way back. It strikes me as a political rather than a clinical statement that as a 68-year-old male, in my state of residence I can carry on a romantic/sexual affair with a 16-year-old, and not only be within the boundaries of the law, but there is no preponderance of research explaining what might be the hell wrong with me. And yet social science churns out article after article detailing the problems of a 20-year-old who deigns to fall madly in love with a 15-year-old. 

Now, a couple of quick clarifications to the paragraph above. I have no interest in a romantic or sexual liaison with a 16-year-old. Rather, my point is that empirical research does not bother to extensively study age differences in romantic interest across the lifespan; only between adults and children. And the example I use is one of the narrower age gaps that can occur that result in arrest, charge, and conviction leading to the label of “sex offender.” Obviously, 20-year-olds (and older) are also sexually abusing much younger children, a clinical problem in desperate need of research. 

The point however, is that between the black-and-white of inappropriate sexual acting out and sexually permissible behavior there is a wide, gray area that becomes codified in laws that may not be an accurate representation of how clinically disordered a person is. 

I give two brief examples in the book. Fleshing these out a bit gives a better sense of just how different the dynamics between two people who become “sex offenders” can be. 

One was a case in which I testified for the prosecution. This was an approximately 40-year-old man who had a history of arrests for various offenses. His apartment was filled with toys and games he used to entice children from the neighborhood. By the time he was arrested he had multiple victims, and from all potential observation, no remorse for his behavior. He appeared to exhibit an Antisocial Personality Disorder – that is, a lack of conscience or ability to empathize with others, and a willingness to disregard their rights. In his case, rehabilitation was far less of a concern than safety for the community. His is one extreme of those who sexually offend. He also had charges for various non-sexual felonies. His sexual offending was part of a larger pattern of disregarding the rights of others. 

At the other extreme was a young man with a severe addiction to marijuana. He began sexually abusing his young daughter. He hated himself for doing so, and after one incident said to her, “If I do this again, tell mommy.” He sexually abused her again, and in turn, his daughter told her mother. He did not contest the charges. While he waited for the justice system to proceed (it took 14 months for his sentencing hearing), he lived on house arrest with his parents. He found a job, and made voluntary child support payments on a biweekly basis. Despite his cooperation and behavior, he was given a sentence of 12 years. In counseling him as he waited for sentencing, and staying in touch with him during the time he has been in prison, it is clear to me that he is not attracted to children. The incidents with his daughter arose from a combination of reduced inhibitions due to drug use, tensions with his wife (the girl’s mother), and feelings of helplessness in his larger environment. 

In these two vignettes, from a legal perspective, the behavior is the same. A child under the age of 14 was touched for the purpose of sexual gratification. From a clinical perspective, they could not be more disparate. Regardless of the presenting problem, it is a profound reminder for those of us in the mental health field: there are multiple reasons for a behavior to occur. 

And the most surprising observations? Very few of my clients fail to offer me insights in some way. Sometimes, they are insights that leave me grieving the human condition. Sometimes, they are insights that leave me breathless with what the human condition can overcome. The most startling among those who sexually offend has been the integrity they can demonstrate. Knowing full well that they are now pariahs, despised by so many, relegated to wear the scarlet letter of the registry upon their release from incarceration, they carry on with a dignity and purpose that belies their pariah status. There are several that I am proud to call my friends.  

AD: Your historicizing tendencies in this book are never so powerful and disturbing as when you show that many of the treatments previously used to "treat" today's offenders were the self-same ones used not so long ago to try to "convert" mostly gay men into heterosexuality. Are there, in fact, any treatments we have today that are (a) not connected to those abuses and (b) effective? 

JC: Visualize a map of empirical study of effective treatments for sexual offending. There is a broad, well-traveled road that runs through the middle of the map. That is the history of Sexual Orientation Change Efforts (SOCE), as they are now called, the historical efforts to convert sexual minorities to heterosexuality. At some point, that road begins to narrow, and eventually becomes a minor path. But branching away from it is a path that broadens into its own road. And these are the efforts to create change among those who sexually offend. Same journey; different destination. 

Now, staying with that visual, imagine side trails leaving the main road, both from the original highway and the new branch. These are much narrower, and almost all of them dead-end. That is the history of alternative treatment efforts, for both SOCE and for sexual offending. Without sufficient funding or willingness on the part of the larger mental health community to explore them, they may hold potential, but the destination is a therapeutic dead end. 

In brief answer to your questions then, (a) no, nearly all of the interventions in use today have their genesis in SOCE approaches, and (b) their efficacy is based on outcome measures, and the inefficacy of those measures is discussed above.  

I devote a single chapter to the evolution of mental health treatment. The topic is worthy of an entire book itself. My hope is that the chapter spurs a healthy debate on the efficacy of treatment, and that the community of current mental health practitioners implementing and researching these treatments are called to critically analyze their approaches.   

AD: Your chapter on minor-attracted persons is perhaps the one where we see most acutely the limitations and short-comings of our research, knowledge, and clinical practice. Where would you like to see the research go? What future directions and changes do we need to investigate? 

Minor-Attracted People (MAPs) are a paradox. They again demonstrate the intersection of the clinical and political. Allyn Walker wrote extensively about MAPs in their book A Long, Dark Shadow: Minor-Attracted People and Their Pursuit of Dignity, only to be pressured to resign from their position as faculty at Old Dominion University because of it. On the one hand, there is increasing urgency to recognize the right of MAPs to express themselves as romantic and sexual human beings. On the other hand, there is the ongoing urgency to protect vulnerable children from any more exposure to adult romantic and sexual encounters than a socially toxic environment already allows. 

The fear is the “slippery slope” of acceptance. It took time, but from riots by street people outside the Stonewall Inn in 1969, gay liberation brought us to Obergefell vs. Hodges in 2015, the Supreme Court decision legalizing same-sex marriage. Some fear that embracing MAPs as a legitimate sexual orientation is an ultimate invitation to act on that desire, protests to the contrary notwithstanding. They point to the slow history of acceptance of same-sex couples as an example of how that can occur. 

It is here that social scientific research can be most helpful. Is minor-attraction a sexual orientation? Are there different manifestations of minor attraction? How often does minor-attraction as a sexual orientation coexist with other sexual orientations? If minor-attraction is only one of many reasons that individuals may desire to become sexually involved with a child, what clinical/emotional/psychological factors and traits contribute to minor-attraction as opposed to other reasons for focusing on children? And if a MAP chooses to embrace that attraction but remain abstinent from acting on the desires, what are the most effective means of assisting them in doing so?  

AD: Sum up your hopes for this book? Who should read it? 

JC: Bear with me for a moment – my dad was a Baptist minister, and some of those lessons linger. One of those lessons was the story of Elijah the prophet on the mountainside. God sent a message, but first he sent an earthquake, a huge wind, and a fire. The message wasn’t in any of these. And then, God sent the soft whisper of a voice. That has been an important lesson for me.

So much of what is written about sexual offending advocates for the victim and rails against those who offend. Less often, but still in print are those writings that advocate for those who offend and rail against the system. Offenders and the Sexual Abuse of Children is, unapologetically, an indictment of the mental health, social service, and justice systems as they attempt to protect victims and treat those who offend. But I strive to maintain a balanced perspective. The system is not in need of repair because of indifference. On the contrary, there is a desperate desire to protect the community and potential victims. My voice may rise above a whisper in these pages, but I strive to avoid the drama of frustration and anger that so often pervades these emotional arguments. 

I encourage anyone in the fields of mental health, social services, or criminal justice who work with those who sexually offend or their victims to read this book. I also encourage those who volunteer with organizations that support those who offend, their victims, or their families to read this book. And for those who have offended and their families, some may find this book of interest as well. As much as possible, I have stayed away from jargon, and maintain a readable style. 

AD: What are you at work on next? 

Back to the Amish, at least for a time! Several years ago, I was part of a program that offered psychoeducational classes for Amish youth arrested for drug and alcohol offenses in the Elkhart-LaGrange settlement of northern Indiana (the third largest Amish settlement). Over the 14 years the program ran, we collected data on almost 1000 participants. That data is ready for analysis, and I am working with several other professionals to begin that process.

I am also co-authoring another book on the Amish. This book examines the strengths and weaknesses of Amish culture, particularly as their social fabric comes under criticism from ex-Amish, the media, and the larger culture.  

And the response to Offenders and the Sexual Abuse of Children will guide my decisions about further work (article, book, etc.) in this area.  

Thank you so much, Dr. DeVille, for the opportunity to share on this blog! Always fulfilling to work with you as a colleague and a friend.

Sexualities and Identities:

It is the fate of collections to be often wildly uneven, and that is true with Sexualities: Contemporary Psychoanalytic Perspectives, eds. Alessandra Lemma and Paul E. Lynch (Routledge, 2015), xiii+244pp. There are two outstanding chapters, and two very good chapters; and then a great deal of other material some readers might find interesting or helpful but I did not. 

I read this book first for general interest, then because I work with adult and adolescent sex offenders ordered by the courts into treatment, and finally because I am working on an essay about the erotic in transferences and counter-transferences. 

I begin with Part III, "Homosexuality" and the first essay in this section by Peter Fonagy and Elizabeth Allision, "A Scientific Theory of Homosexuality." To my mind, this is the most outstanding essay in the book both for the cogency of the writing and for the challenging arguments it offers. The entire chapter--or at least the first half of it--plays something of a trick on the reader who, under that title, is led to expect something the authors very severely put to the question in the chapter's second half. That is, the first part is a brief review of the history of attempts to conjure up a theory of homosexuality (that history has recently been treated more expansively, but not entirely successfully, in a book I discussed here). 

Fonagy, of course, is the founder of the tradition of mentalization-based therapy, about which see here and here. He has also published on possible connections between infantile experiences and attachment, and the development of sexuality. 

With Allison, the burdern of the second half of their co-authored chapter is introduced and encapsulated by the claim that "normal sexual desire is inherently unknowable....Part of the essence of desire is that there is something anti-conceptual, something indefinite and unknowable about it" (p.133). This, in turn leads to one of the other major claims by these authors: "neither homosexuality nor heterosexuality are 'normal' and...neither can be an identity."

I rather imagine that both claims will immediately set some teeth on edge, but both are for me so straighforwardly obvious and true they cease to require additional argumentation. 

These claims are not, of course, entirely original to these two authors. Adam Phillips, for one, has argued something similar about the inherent unknowability about sexual desire and identity, especially in his 1997 book Terrors and Experts, where he has repeatedly noted that "there is nothing like sexuality...for making a mockery of our self-knowledge. In our erotic lives, at least, our preferences do not always accord with our standards." Later in the book he continues by arguing that "from a psychoanalytic point of view, nobody can know about sexuality" in part because "we are never one thing or another, but a miscellany. (For how long in any given day is one homosexual or heterosexual, and can you always tell the difference?)" 

The, uh, desire to have definitions and identities clearly nailed down is, Phillips suggests, an expression of our "wish to be defined [which] is complicit with the wish to be controlled." Additionally, the ham-fisted insistence on clear and sharp definitions runs the very real risk that "too much definition leaves too much out." Too much definition, in other words, undermines mystery and freedom alike. 

This, too, is very similar to what Fonagy and Allison argue: "the essence of desire is its indefiniteness." Indefiniteness means that we can have no legitimating theories of human sexuality, and these authors end their essay by suggesting that such theories in the past have functioned in an anti-mentalizing fashion, shutting down the ability to think about ourselves in ways that take account of our complexity and messiness: "it behooves us to be suspicious of ourselves when our wish for simplicity begins to override out respect for the complexity of subjective experience that our patients engender and bring with them in relation to their experience of their sexuality" (p.135). 

Anyone who has done clinical work for more than a week will immediately realize the profound truth of that last statement. And it shows up in several other essays, as well, including the moving and somewhat melancholic "Intimacy and Shame in Gay Male Sexuality" by Paul E. Lynch: "the beauty of working with patients instead of theories is that they are not so determinedly insistent on conclusions about their own sexuality, and are more often trying to find some way to make sense of themselves, their bodies, their pains and pleasures, and their relationships" (p.146). (Briefly towards the end of his chapter, Lynch suggests that "transgressive sexual behaviors may be an enactment or embodiment of un-represented, un-symbolized, or unformulated early experience," a theme that Adam Phillips has also briefly touched on, and before them both found in the works of Robert Stoller, including Perversion: the Erotic Form of Hatred.)

Earlier in the collection, Mary Target suggests that "fully expressed adult sexuality, regardless of dominant gender identity or orientation, incorporates unconscious bisexuality and bluring of the gender role of self or other." All of these authors, of course, are merely echoing what Freud first postulated in his infamous 1905 Three Essays on the Theory of Sexuality:

Since I have become acquainted with the notion of bisexuality I regarded it as the decisive factor, and witout taking bisexuality into account, I think it would scarcely be possible to arrive at an understanding of the sexual manifestations that are actually to be observed in men and women.

Lynch's claim about un-represented forms of sexual desire and behavior shows up in the last two chapters of this collection, the first written by Avgi Saketopoulou, who has also recently published Sexuality Beyond Consent, which I hope to read over the Christmas break. Her chapter here is entitled "On Sexual Perversions' Capacity to Act as Portal to Psychic States that Have Evaded Representation." 

She grapples with the continued use of the word "perversion," before arguing that we might retain it because it "captures the phenomenology of sexuality that blends anguish and/or pain with pleasure." Those who work clinically, as I do, with patients whose desires have been judged (often by courts, but sometimes by parents or themselves) as perverse and illegal know well this unique, and uniquely difficult, blend of anguish and pain: the desire that is unwanted, that has brought such trouble and left a streak of such devastation, is also a desire not without a certain frisson. Rather than condemn all such desires a priori and totally, we must, if we are to be of any help clinically at all, recognize that in some cases there may be real attempts to grapple with things that were unthinkable to the developing mind. As she puts it, "some sexual perversions...may be understood as proto-attempts towards figuration" (p.214). In the process of trying to figurate such experiences and desires, we must, she concludes, "always be aware" that some things are "eternally inaccessible to us, impossible to bring into knowable experience." Once more those with even modest clinical experience will at once recognize this as true.

Finally, Heather Wood concludes the book with her "Working with Problems of Perversion," and takes a much more practical approach, showing how many and how often perversions function as defensive measures to keep at bay the ever-threatening peril of intimacy and its possible engulfments. Drawing on Glasser's earlier work, Wood argues that "sexual perversions have very little to do with sex...but are about the use of sexualization as a defence to deal with primitive terrors in relationships" (p.224).  Such terrors include an uncertainty about whether the patient's own aggression can be controlled in a relationship or whether it will give rise to sadism and destruction. 

Wood also offers some helpful counsel about working in the transference with such patients, and dealing with counter-transference reactions. Many of us are anxious about sexualized transferences, and perhaps even more sexualized counter-transferences (a topic I'm writing a paper about just now), but she calmly suggests that if we keep in mind her claim above--that sexualization is a defense mechanism like other defenses--it should help us be less anxious about it. We must still, however, examine closely our own reactions as well as the transference to see whether they are about: control? sadism? anxiety? intrusion? seduction? taming a frightening object? fear of abandonment? a defense against destructive urges? a desire for merger which is intolerable and must be defended against? 

In some cases, Wood suggests, after the above forms of sexualization have been worked out, one occasionally might then begin to see less defensive sexual feelings emerge toward the clinician: "it may be important that these feelings are tolerated rather than viewed as defensive if true integration of sexuality and dependency are to occur" (p.228). 

This note has only touched on some of the essays in this rich collection. Anyone interested in sexuality and psychoanalysis will want to have this book on their shelf. 

Desire: An Enigma Wrapped In Riddles Inside Mystery

Introduction:

I learn such things on Twitter. 

I forget to whom exactly to give credit for introducing me to Galit Atlas and her book, The Enigma of Desire: Sex, Longing, and Belonging in Psychoanalysis (Routledge, 2016). It may well have first been Adam Rodriguez, but I know it was even more forcefully Taylor Zimmerman, whom I met with great delight in Indianapolis in April at the celebrated day with Jonathan Shedler. Over the coffee hour and in subsequent correspondence, Taylor strongly encouraged me to read Atlas, so I am grateful to him as to Adam. 

Atlas is the third person in an ongoing series of clinicians in whom I am finding much wisdom with regard to erotic dynamics in psychotherapy, especially in the transference and countertransference. The first of these was, and is, Andrea Celenza, about whom I first wrote here, and more recently here. 

She and Glen Gabbard are arguably the two leading scholar-clinicians writing on sexualized boundary violations in professional contexts, including clinical and clerical contexts. Given the power of their writings, and the fact these topics are almost universally ignored in all training programs, and even by licensed professionals, I am at the point now where I just flatly tell anyone who asks, and even more who don't, that they should buy all of Gabbard's books and all of Celenza's and read them. Were I in charge of training programs in this country for future clinicians of all sorts, I would absolutely make these two authors mandatory reading. 

Into this group I now can bring Galit Atlas, who writes in a different style and with a different focus than Gabbard and Celenza, but with them is still broadly in the field--hitherto often terribly overlooked or denied--of erotic dynamics in treatment. Her book, The Enigma of Desire, puts me in mind of another recent treatment by another psychoanalyst, Carlos Dominguez-Morano (whose utterly irreplaceable Belief After Freud should also be required reading, not least by Christians still talking bollocks about Freud), The Myth of Desire: Sexuality, Love, and the Self, which I have to go back and re-read. 

Right, down to business. 

Atlas on Maternal Erotics:

Atlas begins punchily enough in her introduction by arguing that "In treatment, adopting the role of a nurturing mother can function as the therapist's way to avoid the erotic material that emerges between her and the patient." This I take to be just another version of the important warning (echoed by Shedler, Maroda, McWilliams, and many others) that being too much of a "container" (Bion) or providing little more than a "holding environment" (Winnicott) will mean you ultimately fail your patient who is there because something is wrong and something needs to be changed, not merely contained. 

A second related warning follows from this later in the book (p.80): "our patients' traumatized self-states may collude with our own in order to protect the tender parts of the self, the other, and the treatment from damage by the aggressive parts." (This, of course, is reason #23689 for the psychotherapist to have had his or her own in-depth and intensive long-term psychotherapy, and to engage in regular supervision and consultation.)

Also early in her book Atlas makes plain her own debts to what she calls Kleinian mothers, who have led her to be able "to trust the mind to lead us to the most unknown truths and to believe that the ability to tolerate those tensions allows us to live and to love." She also mentions her debts to Laplanche and Kristeva, and Jessica Benjamin, especially this: "I do not believe we can definitely know what belongs to us and what belongs to our patients." 

This point, of course, puts one in mind of Thomas Ogden's celebrated notion of the analytic third, and of the inability, as he has also recognized, to know where the patient's experience ends and the clinician's begins. 

The Erotics of Writing:

There is a sensuous quality to Atlas's writing itself, not least in her case studies, which are presented here in ways that are less stilted and bloodless than one so often finds. That is to say, there is still a warm pulse in the people she writes about. 

Moreover, and more interesting for me who has long loved to write and cared deeply about the felicities and rewards of style, and who has often felt a flush of excitement in the exchange of ideas, she openly acknowledges that "While writing, I found myself...swinging from feeling overaroused and exposed to using ideas as a way to distance, process, and regulate" (p.30). Lest we miss the point, a bit later she quotes a famous 1989 paper of Ronald Britton in which he recounts a patient demanding: "'Stop that fucking thinking'!" From this Atlas deduces that "thinking is a form of the therapist's internal intercourse" (p.32). Just so! 

I can relate to that outside the consulting room, but also in, which she captures with equal candor: "I notice the movement between moments of sexual stimulation and arousal to use of theory....I believe we often experience the same movement as analysts trying to regulate ourselves and our patients when the erotic pervades the analytic space" (p.30). Guilty as charged! (If I find myself becoming very theoretical, or subjecting the patient to a lecture, than I know my intellectualized defenses have led to such an enactment, and, following Fonagy's counsel, I need to rewind the session back to the point where I was able to mentalize before the defenses were, uh, aroused.)

The Enigmatic and the Pragmatic:

The unique contribution that Atlas make, so far as I can see at this point, is her stress on what she calls Enigmatic and Pragmatic knowing. Much more could be said about this, but I don't want to give all of the book away, so suffice it for me to say that the enigmatic and pragmatic are tied to her dual understanding of the origins of, changes in, and different desires manifested in sexuality: "the erotic comes into existence when the sexuality that at the start was based exclusively on nourishment and satisfaction of hunger moves away from the functional and toward play" (p.41). 

Do not, she warns later, be too enchanted (as some of us who love Winnicott are inclined to be) by notions of play, for these, too, can be used to displace certain important things: "playfullness can be a seductive way to express erotic and aggressive contents...but it's important to note that it can also serve to obstruct erotic transference and countertransference" (p.81). Yes it can, as I've noticed in some sessions after the fact, and not without some chagrin! 

Sexual Longing and Erotic Manifestations and Their Dangers:

Her mention of the erotic obstructing transference material takes us back onto more familiar ground, also covered by Gabbard and Celenza, and then by David Mann, whose two books on the topic I began last weekend, and about which I will have a very great deal to say later (O lucky reader!). 

Rightly does Atlas note early in the book that "sometimes we underestimate how dangerous it feels to be part of a dyad." I try to remind myself of that at least a few times a week, and (for some reason) it always happens at the last turn of the corridor immediately before bringing a patient into my consulting room. In those seconds as I usher them in, I cast my mind back to the first time I ever met with a psychotherapist (a pastoral counselor as I recall) in my teen years (to discuss sexual matters, too!), and how anxious I felt: I try to get a feel for whether this person with me is also a bit anxious, which is an entirely understandable feeling for, as Atlas continues a bit later, "being a patient is a dangerous position" for the patient may feel "he is forced back into the powerless position of being a child to a seductive mother who penetrates and excites him, feeds him but also controls his food and will certainly abandon him, leaving him overexcited, humiliated, and alone" (p.37). 

Strong stuff! No wonder people on Twitter lose their bloody minds when you speak such thoughts aloud; no wonder my undergrads had a collective meltdown at the mention of any hint of anything remotely "erotic" in the therapeutic relationship; no wonder even licensed professionals shy away from these discussions at best, and at worst become amusingly and revealingly hyper-defended. 

Why would anyone submit to this humiliating penetration and abandonment? Later she notes some of its rewards: "Allowing yourself to be penetrated means embracing a more fluid structure that is based on unsolidified boundaries....This is not exclusively a feminine process" (p.69). Indeed not. 

Precisely my attraction to psychoanalytic thinking, starting with Freud, more than three decades ago now was because it seemed to be quite at home with the idea of the fluidity, the complexity, the ambiguity and ambivalence--the sheer messiness--of human sexuality. I have always been highly suspicious of anyone who wants to put it into neat boxes, or map it out on a linear continuum or Kinsey scale. None of us is ever "straight." 

Before going further, she reminds us that for many of us, we had (referring to Kohut) no "mirroring" of the erotic and sexual growing up: "sexual feelings are unique in that caregivers systematically ignore them and they are therefore unmirrored" (p.115). This will and will not show up in a variety of ways in life, and in therapy. 

For some this lack of mirroring can leave the terror of such feelings in place, and that is where you must begin in therapy: "are there ways to listen for, and to, the unique accents of the language of sex." And if those accents are ones of fear, then, nodding towards Bion, Atlas says that an early task of the second mind in the room is to help the first mind bear to think about those fearful desires and terrifying thoughts.

As you think about them, some of the difficulty of such feelings comes from the fact that "sexual longing presupposes a sense of loss and a hope of refinding." 

That refinding is not a straightforward path from infantile attachment to adult sexual longings. It is often much more complicated than that, and thus the clinician needs to proceed with due caution: "the secret psychoanalytic touch is always about tolerating the erotic in the room while not adding to the stimulus." 

Earlier, she notes that we can and probably should do more than that: "we try to hold the unknown darkness with them, tolerate the 'too muchness' of excitement, joy, horror, and shame." Later she will speak of the "suffering of pleasure, of the excess that the body and the mind cannot contain," to which some might give the name "lust" while others (here Melanie Klein) prefer to speak of "human yearning for an 'unattainable perfect internal state'." 

Enactments Made and Redeemed:

Atlas is making what seems to me a very significant advance on how we think about therapeutic enactments. That word is almost universally taken as a sign of danger and enactments seem almost always to be treated sternly. This mirrors, it seems to me, the early Freud and his unidimensional warnings about the dangers of transference and countertransference especially. Only after 1950 did we start to get some limited reflection on what positive things countertransference might contain, and only much later--that is, within the relational movement of which Atlas is a significant part--do we start to see people recognize that countertransference can often be a positive good and contain much valuable information.

Similarly, Atlas is, in the last section of the last chapter of her book, opening up new territory by arguing that enactments are not just "a return of past dissociated memories but rather as the threshold for the introduction of emergent ways of being, of an opening toward new relational possibilities" (p.150). Enactments thus "work toward the future."

They do more than that, as becomes clear in her attempted definition: "enactments may well be a central means by which patients and analysts enter into each other's inner world and discover themselves as participants within each other's psychic life" (p.150). This does not guarantee, of course, that all enactments will always have a positive outcome, but it does begin to help them lose some of their fear, just as we have overcome fear from a century ago of countertransference as a sign of an insufficiently analyzed analyst. 

A concluding word that reminds us of how demanding our vocation as psychotherapists is, for we "must straddle a paradox, always skeptical, questioning, seeking hidden meanings, searching for unconscious dynamics at play, the trailing edge, a hermeneutics of suspicion--while also, paradoxically, trusting unconscious process and surrendering to the continuous flow of the enactive dimension of analysis, relying on a hermeneutics of faith" (here referencing Ricoeur).