What does it mean to be an “objective” analyst? For over a century, psychoanalytic training has emphasized neutrality—the notion that therapists must bracket their own moral beliefs and personal biases, guiding patients instead by what can be observed, interpreted, and explained. At first glance, this commitment echoes the larger shift in modern knowledge that arose during the scientific revolution, when “facts” became synonymous with what could be measured, verified, and empirically validated.
Philosophers have cautioned, however, that separating facts from values is not as simple as it seems. In the consulting room, the analyst is constantly faced with “oughts” and “shoulds,” both explicit and implicit. Should I intervene here? Is it good for my patient to pursue this goal? Is this desire genuinely theirs, or is it shaped by unhealthy societal norms? No matter how committed one is to neutrality, psychoanalysis is always entangled with value-laden questions: What counts as “progress”? What kind of life is worth striving for? What counts as health, maturity, or authenticity? This is not a failure of the psychoanalytic model, but a reflection of a deeper philosophical debate—the distinction between facts (“what is”) and values (“what ought to be”) that has shaped modernity.
The Myth of Value Neutrality
The dream of a purely scientific, value-neutral therapy is just that—a dream. The very foundations of psychoanalysis are built on value-laden assumptions: that self-knowledge is preferable to ignorance, that mental suffering ought to be alleviated, and that certain patterns of thought or behavior are more adaptive, mature, or real than others. Even the choice to bracket a particular value is itself a value judgment.
This myth of neutrality can lead to what philosophers call “crypto-normativity,” where values are smuggled into practice under the guise of objectivity. When analysts tell themselves that they “just follow the facts,” they risk ignoring the ways their own theories, interventions, and cultural lenses shape what is considered desirable or therapeutic.
The fact-value distinction became especially pronounced during the rise of scientific medicine and psychological research in the 19th and 20th centuries. Clinicians and researchers insisted that only observable data could be the basis of knowledge, pushing values, ethics, and meaning to the sidelines. Yet, as many have pointed out, the practice of therapy can never be as “neutral” as the natural sciences. Therapy is fundamentally about change—not just description.
The Very Real Problem of Values in Therapy
Ignoring values is not just a theoretical blindness; it carries practical dangers. If therapists do not face value dilemmas openly, they may unconsciously impose their own ideals on patients, or, more perilously, leave patients without any guidance in navigating the moral valleys and peaks of their lives. On the other hand, if therapy collapses entirely into advice-giving or moral direction, it forfeits its unique promise: to provide a framework to help patients discover their desires, responsibilities, and explore possibilities for living well. The skillful therapist must explore the best way to hold the tension between “facts” (the patterns of mind and behavior) and “values” (what kind of life the patient seeks or ought to pursue).
Human behavior is never value-free, and neither is the process of healing. To pretend otherwise is to ignore the complex reality of the therapeutic relationship.
Rethinking Psychoanalysis—Toward Virtue Discourse
This ongoing dilemma—how to navigate facts and values in therapy—suggests that a new language may be needed. In recent years, some have proposed returning to an older philosophical tradition: that of virtues. Unlike rules or outcomes, virtues focus on qualities of character that can be cultivated—courage, honesty, compassion, resilience, humility. Virtues offer a way to talk about “the good” without falling into dogmatic moralizing or empty relativism.
How might a virtues-based discourse change psychoanalytic practice?
First, it would acknowledge that every therapeutic process, at some level, is oriented toward fostering certain virtues—whether explicitly named or not. Second, it would invite honest reflection about what kind of person the analyst aims to be, and what ideals the analytic process should serve — not arriving at a final answer, but keeping the question in play. Finally, it would provide both therapists and patients with a richer vocabulary for exploring who they wish to become.
Conclusion
The fact-value distinction—hardened by the scientific revolution and inherited by psychoanalysis—remains central to the work of therapy. While the aspiration to neutrality is an important safeguard against tyranny and dogma, it is also—paradoxically—a value in itself. The challenge is not to abolish values from psychoanalysis, but to engage them more consciously, critically, and collaboratively. Perhaps the next evolutionary step is to ground the analytic encounter in a thoughtful discourse about virtues—openly exploring the character traits and life goals that animate both analyst and patient. In a time when questions of meaning, morality, and flourishing are as urgent as ever, psychoanalysis can play a pioneering role—not just in uncovering what is hidden, but in nurturing the capacity for living well. Stay tuned for the next blog post, where we’ll consider how virtues might reclaim their place at the heart of psychoanalytic work.
