The Lacanian Online

There is a toy the cat I live with, F., loves. A small, insignificant object by itself—a hair band—but for her, it is everything. She plays with it, run with it, and then—loses it. Again and again, it disappears under the sofa. At first, I thought it was mere accident, an unfortunate consequence of her wild enthusiasm. I would retrieve it (with difficulty, moving the whole big and heavy sofa), place it back in front of her, and she would resume the game. Then I noticed something strange: F. was not merely losing the toy—she was hiding it, pushing it carefully under the sofa and then wait. Not searching for it, not retrieving it herself, but waiting for it to come out, like a mouse. This is the game. Not the toy, not the having of it, but the not having it—the game of waiting. Lacan taught us that desire is not for the object itself, but for the dream of having it, and the wonderful things that it will make us feel. The objet petit a , that little elusive remainder, is not what we want...

Evil, as an action, could be a thought, but that is usually forgotten, a damned intranscendent mental Sin. In general, evil is only evil when it becomes action and comes out of us as a manifestation of our darkness. But, as an action, it is not inherently evil; rather, it is evil only in relation to other actions or, better yet, perceptions of actions—interpretations. Above all, evil is a function of one's relationship with one's manque, the fundamental lack that structures one's desire. Most of the time, what is evil is not determined by an external reaction, but by the accusation of one's inner Other, nor by the moral codifications that attempt to define it. Rather, evil’s true weight emerges in the subjective coordinates of one's own lack, in how one's act situates itself in relation to this void that constitutes one. In Lacanian psychoanalysis, the subject is always structured around the manque-à-être—the lack of being. It is this absence that fuels desire, ...

Everybody who has had pets knows that they all have unique personalities, fears, and desires, and in some cases, they can experience emotions such as shame, guilt, playfulness, and anxiety. I have been living with a cat for some time now. During this period, I have learned to understand him beyond his normal behavior; I can recognize when he is anxious. In Lacanian psychoanalysis, anxiety arises from the delicate and ever-shifting interplay between three fundamental registers of human psyche: the Imaginary, the Symbolic, and the Real. The inherent tension and potential for disruption within their interconnectedness generate anxiety. Here's a brief breakdown: The Imaginary: This realm encompasses identification, the ego, and the formation of the self through specular images and identifications with others. It is where we develop a sense of bodily unity and coherence, primarily during the mirror stage, when an infant recognizes themselves in the mirror. This sense of self, however,...

While much has been written about how to manage anxiety, far less attention has been paid to how anxiety originates within the psyche. In this post, we will explore the fascinating origins of anxiety through the lens of Lacanian theory, delving into how the interplay between three fundamental psychic realms—the Real, the Imaginary, and the Symbolic—can trigger this powerful emotion. It’s important to note that the neurotic episode we are discussing in this post does not necessarily indicate that the subject has a fully developed neurosis. It is simply a fleeting moment where anxiety arises, temporarily disrupting the usual balance of the psyche. This type of episode is not a sign of a chronic condition, but rather a transient moment of anxiety that, if not managed properly, could lead to further complications. Mental health is about maintaining balance, and we must all learn how to navigate this process. Lacan’s Three Realms Lacan proposed that the psyche is structured around three dis...

Travelling during the holidays, I met a few friends and family, and I was confronted with the memories these people hold of me. When someone told me, "You have not changed," what do they really mean? Is it a truthful statement, or does it reveal more about their perception than about me? Through the lenses of Lacan and Freud, we can unpack this seemingly simple assertion and uncover the deeper layers of being and culture that shape our identities. The Illusion of Sameness Freud's psychoanalytic theory emphasizes the role of the unconscious in shaping our behavior and identity. While the conscious mind might cling to the idea of a stable, unchanging self, the unconscious operates in a realm of fluidity and constant transformation. To Freud, the repetition of certain behaviors or patterns—what he called the compulsion to repeat —is not an indication of sameness but rather a manifestation of unresolved conflicts or repressed desires. Lacan deepens this idea by introducing th...

When we think of Christmas, images of joy, lights, gifts, and the central figure of the Christmas tree often come to mind. But what happens when we view these symbols through a deeper, psychoanalytic lens? In this article, we’ll explore how the Christmas tree connects to fundamental concepts of desire, tradition, and the anxiety that often accompanies this festive season. A Story of Hope and the Tree as a Symbol Let me start with a story I once heard. During the Spanish Inquisition, it is said that a Jewish man, imprisoned and tortured for over a year, one day found the door to his cell open. Dragging himself out, filled with hope, he reached the courtyard and eventually the prison gates, which were also open. Feeling the warmth of the sun on his face, he thanked God for the miracle of his freedom. But suddenly, a shadow fell over him. Turning, he saw his jailer, who said, “You had endured all the tortures, but there was one left: hope.” This story reminds us that symbols of freedom or...