The Snake and The Symptom: Tracing the Evolution of Hypnoanalysis - Hypnogenesis - Hypnosis & Hypnotherapy Journal

The Snake and The Symptom: Tracing the Evolution of Hypnoanalysis
By Michael Mulvihill

Hypnosis is an altered state of consciousness characterized by heightened suggestibility. In this state, attention is narrowly focused, and individuals are directly connected to their unconscious mind while remaining aware. It’s a form of wakefulness where the conscious mind acts as a retrieval system, opening a portal to the deepest and most mysterious parts of the psyche.

Unlike sleep, where dreams are often hard to recall accurately, hypnosis offers a unique opportunity to access and articulate unconscious material. As James Braid (1843) and Félix d’Henin de Cuvillers (1755-1841) emphasized, "hypnosis and suggestibility have nothing in common with sleep." This distinction was later echoed by psychologist Clark L. Hull (1884-1952).

Hypnosis is not a phenomenon that can be monopolized by any organization. It is a natural human experience that anyone can explore. Moreover, ethical hypnotherapy, like any therapeutic method, is not confined to one school or discipline. All therapeutic techniques are published and can be ethically studied and employed by anyone with the capacity to learn them.

Hypnotherapy's learnability challenges attempts at regulation by governments or private entities. It contrasts with the pharmaceutical approach to treating anxiety, stress, and obsessional thoughts, where drugs like Xanax or Valium are often prescribed. However, the withdrawal from these drugs can be torturous, while hypnosis offers a non-narcotic, non-invasive alternative that is easy to learn and beneficial for health.

One example of the effectiveness of hypnosis is the case of Dr. A.A. Mason, who, after reading Hypnoanalysis (1945) by Lewis R. Wolberg, used hypnosis to successfully treat a patient with congenital ichthyosiform erythroderma (Brocq’s disease). This case, published in The Lancet in 1952, earned Mason recognition in medical circles. Yet, he distanced himself from the notion of hypnosis as a cure-all, instead returning to classical psychoanalysis. While basic hypnotic techniques can be easily taught, understanding the unconscious language behind symptoms requires deeper expertise.

The essence of free life is about choice and freedom, values that positive, ethical hypnotherapy promotes. However, dark hypnosis, where ethics are discarded, can lead to manipulation and deceit.

In the minds of early humans, hypnosis did not exist as we know it today. Now, it is something we naturally access in daily life, whether through daydreaming or intense inward focus. Clients often wonder if they can leave a hypnotic state, especially given the negative portrayals of hypnosis in stage shows. These depictions often suggest that hypnosis robs people of their free will, creating fear and misunderstanding.

James Esdaile (1846) demonstrated the power of hypnosis in a medical context, using it to perform surgeries on patients without anaesthesia, with hypno-analgesia (pain relief) and catalepsy (muscle rigidity). He could end the trance simply by blowing air into the patient’s face, without needing to speak. James Braid (1843), on the other hand, advised clients to rub their eyes or splash water on their face to bring themselves out of hypnosis, reinforcing the idea that individuals can exit the state on their own, at their own pace.

Hypnosis exists in the mind and can persist until death, unless interrupted by brain deterioration. Unlike newborns, who have unconscious minds, humans develop the capacity for conscious awareness, which emerged gradually over the past 70,000 to 100,000 years. This awareness is necessary for trance states.

Braid coined the terms "neuro-hypnology" (the study of hypnosis) and "monoideism" (a focus on a single idea to the exclusion of others). In tasks that require intense concentration, this ability to focus becomes a superpower, allowing individuals to lose themselves in the task and access deeper aspects of the mind. When we manifest symptoms, we are often engaging in a trance-like state that has been subconsciously negotiated.

In ancient traditions, such as the Egyptian sleeping temples, shamanic trances in the Americas, and the Aboriginal Dreamtime, hypnosis was used for healing and accessing the unconscious. The Aboriginal Songlines, for example, acted as cognitive maps encoded in song, story, dance, and art, guiding people through vast distances while preserving knowledge of geography, law, and survival.

In ancient Egypt, Greece, and Rome, the seeker would prepare for healing by entering a temple, where they would engage in prayer, ritual, and ceremony to reach a trance state. In this deep state, they might receive divine guidance from deities like Imhotep or Asclepius, offering solutions to moral dilemmas or physical ailments. Similarly, the Aztecs, Incas, and Native American cultures used sweat lodges, chanting, prayer, and shamanic trances for healing and purification.

Despite its therapeutic benefits, hypnosis is often misunderstood today, with many people associating it with stage shows or mind control. Public misconceptions about hypnosis, such as the belief that it involves coercion or loss of free will, create fear and distrust. Stage hypnosis, alien abduction regressions, and the concept of mass suggestion have all contributed to a skewed view of hypnosis in the public consciousness.

Hypnotherapists must confront this historical baggage. For example, a recent mainstream article perpetuates the myth that critical thinkers make poor candidates for hypnosis, contradicting decades of research that suggest otherwise. Furthermore, the article blames hypnotherapy for exacerbating psychosis and false memory syndrome, despite these issues being caused by therapists in various fields, not just hypnotherapists.

Hypnotherapy's public image has long been tarnished by these myths, and its potential for healing has been overshadowed by fear and misunderstanding. Nonetheless, as the field continues to evolve, it offers valuable therapeutic possibilities when used ethically and with respect for the client’s autonomy.

It’s not just misinformed medical professionals who perpetuate these myths. Stage hypnosis—mesmeric performances meant for entertainment—emerged as a profitable exploitation of human vulnerability. While many hypnotherapists scorn the idea of hypnosis as a mere parlour trick, it has undeniably shaped public perception. This fear gave rise to strange misconceptions: that hypnosis can erase free will, that a Svengali-like figure could permanently hijack someone’s mind. Even intelligent individuals often believe they are immune to hypnosis—as if intellect alone could shield them from suggestion.

Victorian and Edwardian fiction contributed to a paranoid, often laughable image of hypnosis. Authors crafted tales where hypnotists caused murder, suicide, and accidental death—these stories served as reminders to overconfident hypnotherapists that their field has long been viewed with suspicion.

George du Maurier’s Trilby (1894), “The Tragedy of the Wedding,” Julian Hawthorne’s The Irishman’s Story, and Suggested Suicide by Erckmann-Chatrian are examples of this bizarre and wildly inaccurate literary genre. They were widely read—and widely believed.

As if that weren’t enough, the 20^th century brought cults, authoritarian regimes, and mass psychosis. Few were reading Hannah Arendt’s The Origins of Totalitarianism or The Banality of Evil. Pop psychology sufficed, and “mass hypnosis” became the lazy explanation for everything from fascist regimes to Jonestown. This is why hypnotherapy has struggled to establish its rightful place. Its history is noble—rooted in care, healing, and a deep respect for the human psyche. But it has been constantly undermined by misunderstanding.

Hypnotherapy ultimately developed not as a single unified concept, but by understanding changes in the brain when in trance. This sparked endless debates about the state versus non-state of hypnosis, and shifted focus toward observing bodily changes while in trance. Psychiatry played a crucial role in this process, but in return, it gave rise to invasive treatments such as padded cells, straitjackets, lobotomies, coma therapy, and ECT, until psychopharmacology took over.

Clinical hypnotism began to evolve when it placed the patient/client as the central resource for understanding pathology. The client’s story became vital in the pursuit of deeper understanding of the unconscious mind. No doubt, without the lucrative business of treating bourgeois hysteria in the 19^th century, we wouldn’t have the Charcot Clinic or the legacies of Mesmer, Breuer, and Freud. If chloroform had been available earlier, James Esdaile’s documented success with hypnoanesthesia in India might have been a stronger rebuttal to Big Pharma’s push for pharmaceutical pain relief.

The Sackler family's Infamous contribution to the opioid crisis through OxyContin and the phrase “managing pain begins with medication” is directly challenged by the long-standing truth that the human mind can manage pain when properly guided.

Another key development was trauma, particularly from war. Shell shock and war neuroses led to the creation of hypnoanalysis—a fractured, fast-track method of therapy used in military psychiatry. Before this, hypnotism was a fragmented practice: induction techniques, trance deepening, post-suggestion work, and mesmerist-style abreactive practices.

Freud’s psychoanalysis changed that, giving rise to psychotherapy and modern counseling. Hypnoanalysis, in turn, led to dialogue-based hypnotherapy—an arsenal of specialized schools and techniques that didn’t exist before.

Modern hypnotherapists can fall into the trap of dismissing the history of hypnosis. They often see the techniques of earlier generations as outdated relics—rusted antiques. But this is a mistake.

Studying the classics of hypnosis, psychoanalysis, and psychotherapy won’t just deepen your clinical knowledge—it will sharpen your understanding of how the mind suffers and heals.

To explain how the mind heals, I propose the symbol of the snake. The snake represents cause, effect, and cure. It carries both the venom that can make us sick and the antidote that can heal us.

Sigmund Freud, in his Introductory Lectures on Psychoanalysis (1916–1917), said, “The unconscious is the seat of the neuroses.” But this must be unpacked. Psychopathology—the symptom, the disorder, the true origin of addiction—is layered deeply within the unconscious mind. This is why the client, at a conscious level, remains unaware of the root cause of their condition.

Symptoms such as obsessions and compulsions may represent a “repetition compulsion,” a compulsion to repeat (Freud, 1920, Beyond the Pleasure Principle). The symptom represents the return of the repressed—not as a psychological memory, but as a bodily imprint, manifesting through behaviour, suffering, or somatic expression.

Sigmund Freud (1916–1917) famously declared that “the unconscious is the seat of the neuroses.” This statement marked a significant leap in understanding psychopathology. Freud also contended that “the ego is not master in its own house” (Freud, 1917), underscoring the unconscious forces at play.

The neurotic, plagued by phobias, obsessions, compulsions, and hysteria, has repressed the original trauma into the unconscious. In contrast, the psychotic has expelled the trauma through projection, often manifesting as paranoia. Freud believed the neurotic internalized the original traumatic event through repression, while the psychotic, finding it unbearable, expelled it—resulting in a rupture from reality through delusions and hallucinations (Freud, 1911).

The unconscious mind holds the keys to psychopathology. The history of madness reveals the impotence of the authoritative, medical “Doctor” discourse, which claims to “fix” the patient through expertise.

Before Freud, psychiatry was light years behind in understanding neurosis, hysteria, obsession, the complexities of sexuality, the inner world of the psychotic, and the profound depths of psychopathology. It was locked within a narrow descriptive framework—focused on cataloging behaviors and labeling disorders. You might think that Freud’s abandonment of hypnosis severed the connection to trance work, but that assumption is incorrect. Wilhelm Stekel and Otto Rank recognized the immense gains made in accessing the unconscious mind, the birth trauma, the Oedipal complex as the core of neuroses, and the meaning of dreams—thanks to a depth psychology rooted in hypnotic exploration.

Psychoanalysis, in this context, stands as an outlier. It gave primacy to the voice, to subjectivity, and to the world of the patient, rather than the expert.

Even though Freud abandoned hypnosis, his method induced a kind of reverie or trance. The analysand lay on a couch while the doctor sat out of sight. In Introductory Lectures on Psychoanalysis (1916–17, Lecture XXII), Freud instructed the patient to speak freely, saying:

“One thing only we ask of him: that he should tell us what he knows and what is in his mind… he must not allow any critical impulse to check the free expression of his thoughts… he must not omit anything… he must not spare himself anything, however painful it may be… He must also not try to arrange his thoughts or ideas, or to conceal any of them from us.”

Historically, Freud’s approach was revolutionary. Devoting at least six hours a week to the patient’s unstructured, self-directed speech was virtually unheard of. However, I don’t think clinical hypnotherapists of this age would appreciate the narrow-mindedness of contemporary psychoanalysis, where being therapeutically eclectic and seeking solutions to conditions is frowned upon. Suffice to say, psychoanalysis was the formal forerunner of dialogue-based therapy. To fully understand how psychoanalysis, psychotherapy, and hypnotherapy emerged, we must trace their roots further.

Dialogical therapy emphasizes subjectivity over objectivity. It prioritizes the lived experiences of patients—the meanings they assign to their own lives—over rigid diagnostic criteria. This humanistic stance contrasts with tools like the DSM, which emphasize observable symptoms and standardized classifications.

This dialogical approach was pioneered in the case of Anna O. (Bertha Pappenheim), who was treated by Josef Breuer from 1880 to 1882. She coined the term “chimney sweeping,” or “the talking cure” (Freud & Breuer, 1895), describing her experience of verbal catharsis under hypnosis. Breuer guided her into a regressive state using light hand pressure on her forehead, allowing her to revisit traumatic events. Her unusual symptoms—including hydrophobia and speaking only in English, a language foreign to her—were alleviated by exploring their symbolic and emotional roots.

This method marked a shift in therapeutic power dynamics: the patient became the expert on their own experience. Breuer’s work foreshadowed Carl Rogers’ later assertion that “the client is the expert on themselves” (Rogers, 1951).

Anna O.’s case also revealed the phenomenon of transference, which Freud would later develop into a cornerstone of psychoanalysis. He encouraged techniques like free association and dream analysis as paths to the unconscious (Freud, 1900; 1901; 1905). Unlike ancient sleep temples that relied on rigid interpretations, Freud favored collaborative meaning-making between analyst and patient. Eventually, he abandoned hypnosis—perhaps to better navigate transference and resistance (Elman in Bliss, 1986).

During the world wars, hypnoanalysis was revived to treat shell shock. Whereas male hysteria had previously been dismissed, the psychological toll of modern warfare forced the medical community to engage with it.

A more directive and pragmatic form of hypnoanalysis emerged in military hospitals—short-term, goal-focused, and often combined with medication. Documented in the banned 1946 film Let There Be Light (Ford, 1946), these methods helped soldiers unlock and release traumatic memories. World War I poets like Wilfred Owen (treated by Dr. Arthur Brock) and Siegfried Sassoon (treated by Dr. W.H.R. Rivers) benefited from such interventions.

Post-war, hypnoanalysis continued through figures like Dr. Robert Lindner, a psychoanalyst who adapted hypnosis to treat both forensic and clinical populations. His works—Rebel Without a Cause (1944), Stone Walls and Men (1946), and The Fifty-Minute Hour (1955)—documented his innovative approach.

Lindner believed hypnosis could dissolve transference and offer more direct access to the unconscious (Stekel, 1926). He structured sessions in three stages: maintaining trance, deepening it, and employing post-hypnotic suggestion. However, he cautioned against using hypnoanalysis with individuals unable to form a therapeutic alliance. Despite this, he remains a pioneer for extending hypnosis beyond traditional limits.

 

Contemporary psychotherapy has branched into numerous schools—psychoanalytic, humanistic, and Gestalt—all traditionally favouring long-term intervention. Cognitive Behavioral Therapy (CBT), born from psychoanalytic roots, merged cognitive science with behavioural strategies to create a brief, outcome-driven model. It aimed to “fix” clients efficiently and cost-effectively, echoing pharmacological care models.

Yet Freud warned that such “fine weather” rarely lasts—relief without depth may lead to symptom substitution. Dave Elman echoed this, insisting that “more analysis is always indicated.” Still, long-term therapies like psychoanalysis and humanistic psychotherapy can appear elitist. Their central premise is client-centred care, but their structure often relies on patients attending expensive weekly sessions, fostering dependence.

The Soviet Union outlawed psychoanalysis, criticizing it for its bourgeois mentality. Indeed, psychoanalysis was not designed for the poor. Psychoanalysts claimed to be intellectual rebels, but many built careers in mainstream institutions—universities, hospitals—within the very system they claimed to critique.

Modern hypnotherapy takes a directive approach—not only in its scripted inductions, deepeners, and suggestions but in its overall language. Therapists guide patients to confront, reframe, and release their issues.

Despite its structure, hypnotherapy provides genuine relief from anxiety and other conditions—without habit-forming or harmful medications. As a non-narcotic alternative, hypnosis can function as an antidepressant, analgesic, anxiolytic, sedative, and even anaesthetic. When practiced consistently, it supports well-being and rejuvenation. However, mental health should not be reduced to quick fixes. Sustainable self-improvement requires effort, lifestyle changes, and integration of practices like hypnosis into daily life—alongside good nutrition and holistic care.

This paper has traced the evolution of hypnoanalysis from Mesmer to Lindner, highlighting its foundational role in modern hypnotherapy. Lindner’s work, in particular, illustrates the adaptability and enduring relevance of hypnoanalysis as a springboard for diverse therapeutic approaches.

Michael Mulvihill MSc., Author of the book, HypnoSaga: Unravelling the Threads of Hypnotic History

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