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🌀⚔️💫 IPA/FLŽ 🌀⚔️💫

International Psychoanalysis Association / Freudian-Lacanian-Žižekian
IPA/FLŽ — A New Psychoanalytic Frontline

(Turkish, German)

Introduction: Psychoanalysis at the Crossroads of Deviation and Media

The revolutionary lineage of psychoanalysis—traced from Freud’s excavation of the unconscious, through Lacan’s structural and symbolic formalism, to Žižek’s ideological subversions—has always positioned itself as a critical force against social conformity, repression, and false normalization. However, as the International Psychoanalysis Association / Freudian–Lacanian–Žižekian (IPA/FLŽ) collective asserts, this lineage has been systematically betrayed. In a series of scathing theoretical statements and manifestos, IPA/FLŽ condemns what it identifies as the pathogenic deviations from Freud: institutional movements and theoretical compromises that, rather than advancing Freud’s radical legacy, neutralize it through adaptation, affective containment, or mystification. These include the object-relations affectivism of Melanie Klein, the ego-centered adaptationism of Anna Freud, the depoliticized centrism of the Independent Group, the mystic essentialism of Jungianism, and the aestheticized simulationism of Millerian Lacanianism.

At first glance, these deviations may appear to be internal disputes within the clinical and academic domain of psychoanalysis. But IPA/FLŽ insists that their consequences are not confined to the analytic room. Rather, they have deeply shaped the way contemporary subjects are conditioned to experience themselves—especially within the media-saturated societies of the 21st century. In a parallel but interlinked text—the IPA/FLŽ Strategy Report for Combating Mediatized Syndromes—the collective maps the psychological pathologies emerging from the saturation of daily life by media imagery, algorithmic control, aesthetic hyperreality, and ideological performance. These syndromes—ranging from Gaze Syndrome and Phallic Woman Syndrome to Aesthetic Totalitarianism and Hyperreal Symbolic Collapse—are not only cultural effects; they are clinical structures, produced by the very ideological mechanisms that institutional psychoanalysis has come to mirror.

The core thesis of this article is that the pathogenic deviations condemned by IPA/FLŽ directly exacerbate the mediatic syndromes diagnosed in the strategy report. Far from resisting the spectacle, these deviations furnish it with its psychic logic. Where Anna Freud’s ego psychology seeks adaptation to reality, media culture demands ego-performance for visibility. Where Klein replaces drives with inner-object fantasies, social media offers users curated affective templates—ideal “good objects” in the form of beautified images. The Independent Group’s “holding environment” mirrors the soothing containment of Netflix and digital escapism. Jung’s mythic archetypes return in the ideology of the “Phallic Woman,” packaging lacklessness as empowerment. And Millerian stimulationism, with its endless interpretive detours, turns the analytic process into another form of media choreography, indistinct from the narrative loops of content platforms.

What unites these deviations is a shared denial of symbolic lack—a refusal to confront the subject’s constitutive division. In this denial, they align precisely with the logics of image culture, platform capitalism, and algorithmic ideology. IPA/FLŽ’s insight is thus not only theoretical but strategic: to combat today’s media syndromes, one must expose and dismantle the psychoanalytic betrayals that enabled them. In what follows, each chapter will examine one of these deviations in detail, pairing it with the specific syndrome it amplifies, revealing a shared structure of adaptation, repression, and spectacular disavowal.

Psychoanalysis, to remain revolutionary, must become again what it once was: not an adjustment to reality, but a rupture in its symbolic order. This is the starting point for both critique and reconstruction.

From Symbolic Rupture to Therapeutic Containment — How the Anna Freudian Ego Became the Algorithmic Superego

When Anna Freud reoriented psychoanalysis around the ego and its defenses, she committed what IPA/FLŽ declares a structural betrayal of Freud’s most disturbing insight: “The ego is not master in its own house.” In her hands, this unruly house of the unconscious was not a battlefield of conflicting drives, but a school of regulation. Defense mechanisms were not symptoms to be interpreted, but tools to be reinforced. The aim of therapy shifted from confrontation with the Real to the pedagogical cultivation of a well-adjusted personality. Thus, ego psychology became a clinical ideology of containment: therapeutic success meant adaptation to the existing social order, not its critique.

This deviation, while framed as therapeutic care, is in truth a concession to social normalization. And in the 21st century, its effects metastasize in a new form: the algorithmic superego. Where Anna Freud taught the ego to monitor itself, today’s media platforms command users to curate, optimize, and present themselves under the digital gaze. Likes, views, shares—these are not simple metrics; they are injunctions. And behind them stands a new superego, no longer punishing with guilt but seducing with feedback. “Be visible. Be optimized. Adapt.” The demand is total, and it is always watching.

The IPA/FLŽ strategy report names this mutation Gaze Syndrome. The subject, rather than confronting their internal division, learns to watch themselves as if from the outside—to become the image, to desire through the eye of the algorithmic Other. This gaze is not symbolic; it is algorithmic, omnipresent, and without interruption. It does not interpret. It counts. It registers every moment of joy, breakdown, or silence as data. This is no longer the father’s “No,” but the mother’s endless “Yes” turned into code: a matrix of perpetual feedback loops that abolish the unconscious by never allowing it to go unheard.

The tragic irony is that Anna Freud’s model, once imagined as scientific modernization, laid the psychic infrastructure for this digital coercion. Her therapeutic containment, her goal of making the ego “strong,” prepared the way for subjects who internalize surveillance and mistake obedience for stability. In her attempt to tame the unconscious, she constructed a clinical superego that now finds its perfect material embodiment in the algorithmic superego of screen-based life.

Thus, what IPA/FLŽ sees as a deviation from Freud’s radical break becomes, in today’s terms, a full-blown psychological collaboration with mediatized control. The therapist who once guided the patient toward ego mastery is reborn in the influencer who preaches self-regulation as empowerment. The clinic and the platform merge. What was once called neurosis is now measured in engagement.

And what is the price? The foreclosure of symbolic rupture. The session no longer ends with a scream, a silence, or a cut. It ends with a post, a share, a metric. The unconscious has not disappeared—it has been colonized, its space converted into the neural network of optimization.

Against this, IPA/FLŽ proclaims: The ego must be shattered again. The Real must return. The unconscious must be liberated from the algorithmic superego that Anna Freud unwittingly designed.

Kleinian Fantasies and Instagram Affects — From Good Objects to Hyperreal Filters

Melanie Klein’s theory of inner-object relations—once hailed as a bold refinement of Freudian analysis—stands, in the eyes of IPA/FLŽ, as a critical deviation that replaces the dynamic tension of drives with a gallery of fantasized inner objects. The infant is no longer traversing the complex terrain of Eros and Thanatos, but is instead imagined as a stage for splitting and projection: a theater of “good breasts” and “bad breasts,” internalized in phantasy and manipulated through primitive defenses. What is lost in this schema is the symbolic—the rupture between signifier and drive, between desire and representation. What remains is a psychic world dominated by imaginary affect, endlessly reconfigured but structurally closed.

This imaginary closure is the very logic that saturates today’s image culture, where platforms like Instagram, TikTok, and Snapchat function as prosthetic extensions of Kleinian phantasy. The screen becomes the breast; the “feed” offers nourishment or rejection; followers are internalized as good or bad objects. Each selfie, each post, is an unconscious plea for reparation from a world that seems always on the edge of withdrawing love. But more dangerously, these affective displays are stylized—not experienced as raw drives, but filtered into pre-designed emotional palettes. The cry becomes aesthetic. The pain becomes content. Melancholy, joy, anxiety—all are reduced to visually curated affects, produced not by the subject but by the template.

IPA/FLŽ identifies this convergence as the essence of Aesthetic Totalitarianism and Hyperreal Symbolic Suppression. Klein’s internal world of split objects finds its externalized double in the algorithmic aesthetic regime, where every image is judged, refined, and consumed under the gaze of the Other. The subject no longer symbolically works through lack but instead manages affective illusions through continuous performance. What Klein called “reparation” becomes literal: the user repairs their identity not through working through, but by applying a new filter, posting a better moment, editing the evidence of pain until it becomes shareable.

The fantasy of the “good object”—the all-giving breast—is resurrected on the screen as the perfectly composed image: smooth, symmetrical, serene, endlessly desired. The “bad object”—the withholding, persecutory breast—returns as the unliked post, the ignored story, the image that fails to attract. In this binary, the symbolic fails to function. There is no third term, no cut, no Name-of-the-Father to intervene. The media subject, like the Kleinian infant, is trapped in an imaginary dyad, seeking restoration through visual affect management, not symbolic signification.

IPA/FLŽ warns: Klein’s theory, in eliminating the structural void of desire and replacing it with affective hallucination, trained the unconscious to fantasize in pictures instead of symbols. In doing so, it prepared a generation not for speech but for spectacle. The result is a psychopolitics of images: filtered bodies in filtered worlds producing filtered affects, none of which speak the truth of the drive. Just as Klein repressed the Real in favor of comforting phantasy, today’s media replays that repression in high resolution.

In this alliance between deviation and spectacle, the drive dies as representation flourishes. The cost is enormous: a generation seduced by perfect “good objects” but tormented by the inability to sustain desire. IPA/FLŽ answers not with comfort but with rupture: “Destroy the image. Cut the phantasy. Let the Real return, not as beauty, but as unbearable truth.”

Only then can psychoanalysis re-enter the frame—not as aesthetic therapy, but as the violent break that reopens the symbolic.

Centrist “Holding” and the Infantilization of the Spectator — How Winnicott Became Netflix

The so-called “Independent Group” in British psychoanalysis—figures like Donald Winnicott and Michael Balint—presented themselves as a balanced alternative to the polar extremes of Kleinian fantasy and Anna Freudian ego-discipline. But as IPA/FLŽ sharply exposes, this centrism was not neutrality; it was complicity disguised as care. Winnicott’s soothing metaphors—“transitional objects,” “holding environments,” “good-enough mothers”—offer not symbolic rupture, but emotional anesthesia. His clinic does not tear the veil of the Imaginary; it wraps the patient in a therapeutic blanket of containment. Under the guise of maturity, it reinstates infantilization, recasting the analyst not as a disruptive Other but as a warm and patient caregiver. Conflict becomes comfort. Drive becomes dependency. Lack is replaced with reassurance.

This deviation, far from innocuous, finds its cultural mirror in the media ecology of our time. For IPA/FLŽ, Winnicott became Netflix. His therapeutic holding is now reanimated by platforms that promise “just enough” stimulation, “just enough” engagement, “just enough” emotion to keep the user pacified. The screen does not shock; it cradles. The bingeable series, the soft-filtered documentary, the gentle narratives of self-discovery—these are not narratives of rupture, but of soothing repetition. The subject, like Winnicott’s ideal infant, is not forced to speak or to split but to stay—to attach, to consume, to remain in the arms of the symbolic caregiver rebranded as content stream.

This is the architecture of what IPA/FLŽ identifies as Cinematic Voyeurism and Depersonalized Identification. The spectator is not drawn into symbolic conflict; they are held in one-sided intimacy, watching without being watched, identifying without desire. Winnicott’s “transitional object” finds its digital twin in the personalized screen—the Netflix interface, the autoplayed next episode, the algorithmically gentle recommendation that says: “Stay. We know what you need. You don’t have to ask.” The media environment becomes a holding environment. But this holding is not neutral—it holds the subject in place. It suspends rupture. It prolongs symbolic stasis.

This structure produces a new psychic syndrome: the infantilized spectator—a subject who craves affect but fears separation, who consumes stories instead of creating meaning, who avoids the trauma of desire by fusing with narrative comfort. IPA/FLŽ sees this as the liquidation of the cut, the abolition of the act. There is no “end” to a binge series, only the next episode. No moment of confrontation, only more background music, more affective wrapping, more therapeutic pacing. The analyst has become the showrunner; the session, a season; the transference, a fanbase.

And this infantilization is not merely symbolic—it is historical. In the Truman Show Syndrome, which the IPA/FLŽ report names as a clinical mirror of the spectacle age, subjects believe they are constantly watched, their lives scripted, their authenticity stolen. But this is not a delusion born from psychosis—it is the logical outcome of a culture where Winnicott’s “holding” becomes total. The subject, no longer interrupted by the Real, floats endlessly in a world made for them. Every cry is met with content. Every question is resolved by plot. There is no castration, no lack, no death—only curated continuity.

IPA/FLŽ does not simply mourn this collapse; it indicts it. The Independent Group’s turn away from Freud’s drive theory and Lacan’s symbolic rupture prepared the psyche for its pacification by spectacle. By eliminating trauma, they eliminated subjectivity. By making therapy safe, they made it useless. Winnicott’s cradle has become the algorithm’s cocoon.

To shatter this: the cut must return. Not the mother’s arms, but the Name-of-the-Father. Not holding, but falling. Not enough, but rupture. IPA/FLŽ cries: “Let the subject be born again—not held, but split. Not soothed, but scarred into speech.”

Only then does psychoanalysis escape the glow of the screen and step, once more, into the dark hallway of the unconscious—where something real waits, still unsaid.

Jung’s Archetypal Empire and the Myth of the Phallic Woman

In the eyes of IPA/FLŽ, Carl Gustav Jung did not merely diverge from Freud—he betrayed him. This betrayal was not just theoretical; it was structural, clinical, ideological. Jung did not extend the path of psychoanalysis—he reversed it. While Freud opened the unconscious as a domain of contradiction, repression, and conflict, Jung sealed it shut under a mystical fog of archetypes and collective symbols. The unconscious, in Jung’s universe, ceases to be the Real—it becomes a museum of eternal forms, populated by wise old men, divine mothers, shadow beasts, and sacred flames. Meaning is no longer produced through speech and interpretation, but revealed as revelation. In this world, myth replaces truth, and symbolic castration is denied in favor of mystical completion.

Nowhere is this ideological reversal more dangerous than in Jung’s vision of femininity. What IPA/FLŽ identifies as a “structural deviation” becomes the foundation of a new cultural pathology: the Religion of the Phallic Woman. This is not feminism—it is a fetishized fantasy, one born from a refusal to confront lack. Jung’s elevation of the feminine as “anima,” as deep wisdom and archetypal completion, disavows the essential Freudian insight that woman, like man, is constituted by absence, by symbolic incompletion. Instead, Jung imagines a Woman who possesses the phallus—not as anatomical absurdity, but as a symbolic lie. She is whole, divine, healing, transcendent. She is the answer. And that is precisely the problem.

This fantasy metastasizes in today’s media ecology as what the IPA/FLŽ strategy report names Phallic Woman Syndrome—a mediatic-ideological formation in which the figure of the woman is re-coded not as lacking, but as complete, invulnerable, and commanding. She is the influencer-goddess, the spiritual CEO, the sexual oracle, the brand of empowerment that needs nothing and gives everything—except, of course, the truth of castration. The phallic woman does not desire; she is the object of desire. She does not suffer; she is the cure. She does not speak from lack; she speaks from branding.

This fantasy structure is pathogenic. It creates subjects—of all genders—who measure themselves against an impossible wholeness, an illusory symbolic saturation. For women, it is the internalization of a demand to be everything at once: beautiful, wise, powerful, nurturing, sexually liberated, emotionally flawless. For men, it is the investment in a fantasy that promises symbolic restoration—but delivers only submission to the image. Desire collapses into identification. The Phallic Woman becomes both model and mirror, fetish and idol. She is no longer a subject; she is an icon curated by algorithms, a Jungian archetype fed through TikTok filters.

This myth of wholeness suffocates the unconscious. Where Freud located desire in absence, Jung offers fullness. Where Lacan introduced symbolic lack, Jung posited archetypal presence. The symptom, once a cipher of repression, becomes a spiritual message. Trauma is reinterpreted as karmic trial. Depression becomes a sacred initiation. In place of rupture, we find narrative closure. The patient no longer analyzes—they journey. The analyst no longer intervenes—they interpret omens. The unconscious no longer disrupts—it confirms.

IPA/FLŽ names this for what it is: ideological mystification, a fascist aesthetic cloaked in therapeutic velvet. Jung’s unconscious is not a depth—it is a stage. And the Phallic Woman is its lead actress, lit by a thousand Instagram ring lights, never aging, never lacking, never real. This is not feminism. It is a fantasy of femininity produced by the gaze of power—and consumed by a culture unable to face its own incompletion.

Against this, IPA/FLŽ calls for the return of symbolic castration—not as punishment, but as freedom. To lack is to desire. To be incomplete is to speak. To not be the phallus is to become a subject.

“Down with the archetype,” IPA/FLŽ declares. “Down with the Phallic Woman who sterilizes the symbolic field. Let her fall—not as a woman, but as a fantasy. And from the rubble, let new speech emerge—not mythic, but real. Not complete, but divided. Not divine, but human.”

Only then can femininity be liberated—not by worship, but by the acknowledgment of lack. Not through myth, but through the cut.

The Millerian Choreography — From Symbolic Cut to Interpretive Performance

Among the most insidious betrayals of Lacan’s legacy, according to IPA/FLŽ, is the deviation of Jacques-Alain Miller—not because he misunderstood Lacan, but because he aestheticized him into irrelevance. Miller did not return to Freud through Lacan’s Real; he choreographed Lacan into a spectacle. His seminars transformed rupture into routine, cut into commentary, and the traumatic Real into an endless ballet of interpretation. Psychoanalysis, under Millerian influence, ceased to be a confrontation with the unconscious and became instead a performance of knowing—a semantic dance around the abyss, never a plunge into it.

Miller’s version of Lacan replaces the sharp symbolic cut with infinite nuance, turning the analyst into a master of linguistic elegance rather than a subject of intervention. Each session is no longer the staging of a traumatic truth but a performance of the analyst’s interpretive prowess. This is not the lion leaping once—it is the lion rehearsing endlessly, never actually leaping. The analyst becomes the auteur, the session a script, the unconscious a motif. Analysis is reduced to an art-house film: stylish, complex, evasive.

IPA/FLŽ identifies this deviation as the Millerian stimulationism that now finds its mirror in today’s content culture, particularly in the rise of what they diagnose as Therapeutic Simulation Syndrome. Social media is awash with self-narration and pseudo-analysis. Influencers perform breakdowns in soft lighting; trauma is recounted in curated tones; “healing” becomes a serialized drama with episodes, cliffhangers, and hashtags. What was once the unspeakable kernel of the Real is now a brand of vulnerability, algorithmically monetized. The confessional becomes aesthetic. The session becomes a monologue. The symptom becomes engagement.

This logic is precisely the clinical embodiment of the Millerian deviation: a never-ending analytic choreography where the subject is suspended in interpretation without rupture. Just as Miller’s analyst never cuts too soon but always interprets more, today’s therapy culture indulges endless processing, branding it as “integration.” Yet the truth of the subject remains untouched. The Real is dressed, not addressed.

The result is a psychoanalysis that no longer threatens. It flatters. It adjusts. It lingers. It becomes indistinguishable from content creation, from aestheticized introspection, from the very spectacle that psychoanalysis was once meant to rupture. Where Lacan made speech stumble, Miller makes it glide. Where Freud aimed at disarming the ego, the Millerian clinic massages it with paradoxes.

IPA/FLŽ sees this as the final form of ideological betrayal: psychoanalysis as set piece, with the analyst as director, the analysand as performer, and the unconscious as mise-en-scène. This is not therapy. It is curated paralysis.

Against this, IPA/FLŽ calls for the return of the real act—the one that breaks interpretation, not refines it. “The lion must leap,” they repeat, “not rehearse.” The analyst must stop decorating the wound and instead expose it. The subject must not be aestheticized but divided. And analysis must return to what it was meant to be: a political, structural, and existential rupture—not a streaming service of the soul.

Only then will the Real speak again—not through stylized lament, but through cut, interruption, and truth. Not with flourish, but with fire.

Bureaucratic Compromise and the Media Spectacle — The “Controversial Discussions” as Precursor to Platform Governance

In the mid-20th century, a quiet execution took place in the halls of British psychoanalysis. Between 1942 and 1944, under the name “Controversial Discussions,” the revolutionary structure Freud had forged was dismembered into three tranquilized factions: the Kleinians, the Anna Freudians, and the so-called Independents. This was not dialogue. It was not theory-building. IPA/FLŽ names it for what it was: the bureaucratic compartmentalization of dissent, an administrative neutralization of conflict masquerading as pluralism. What had once been the battleground of drives and rupture was now parceled into training tracks and certification paths—psychoanalysis became a department, not a danger.

This betrayal was not merely institutional—it was ideological. As IPA/FLŽ reveals, this moment marked the transformation of analysis from a theory of the divided subject into a governance apparatus of the disciplined psyche. The revolutionary subject Freud unveiled, torn by drive and law, was replaced by the therapeutic citizen: regulated, adapted, and credentialed. And just as these factions were legitimized through bureaucratic negotiation, so too were their contradictions. The tragedy of the “Controversial Discussions” lies not in choosing a side, but in choosing to allow all sides to coexist without conflict—a strategy not of resolution but of sterilization.

This very structure—where ideological antagonisms are smoothed into organizational harmony—finds its modern equivalent in today’s digital platform governance. IPA/FLŽ draws the line clearly: the pluralism of British psychoanalysis is the direct ancestor of algorithmic liberalism. Like the IPA, platforms such as YouTube, Instagram, and TikTok do not eliminate opposing voices; they categorize them, contain them, and profit from their juxtaposition. Conservative influencer beside radical feminist beside new-age healer beside psychoanalytic commentator—all perspectives are welcomed, as long as they are profiled, segmented, and monetized.

This is not openness. It is simulated pluralism, the very pathology IPA/FLŽ exposes as the mediatic form of the “Controversial Discussions.” Just as the British Psychoanalytical Society institutionalized contradiction without transformation, today’s algorithmic systems simulate conflict without risk. Everyone can speak. No one can intervene. The subject scrolls endlessly through curated antagonisms, feeling informed, engaged, even enraged—but never ruptured. The Real is nowhere. All that remains is content.

And herein lies the psychic price: the internalization of what IPA/FLŽ calls the spectacle of compartmentalized identity. The subject becomes a playlist of identifications, switching from feminist to nihilist, from theorist to meme lord, without symbolic synthesis. There is no dialectic, only collage. The internal contradiction that once erupted as symptom now floats as aesthetic. One’s psychic economy becomes a feed.

This form of governance is far more effective than repression. Where Freud’s superego punished the subject for desire, today’s platform regime simply offers them endless options—and in doing so, defuses the desire to confront. There is no need to choose a truth when one can “follow” them all. There is no need to engage the cut when one can endlessly click. And just as the British Society maintained its peace through training silos, the algorithm maintains its dominance through curated chaos.

IPA/FLŽ makes the indictment plain: the Controversial Discussions were not a theoretical compromise—they were the psychic prototype of neoliberal media governance. They trained a generation to accept contradiction as structure, to believe that revolution could be scheduled, to adapt to symbolic fragmentation as the natural order.

The consequence? A society that confuses coexistence with critique, scrolling with struggle, branding with belief. A psychoanalytic culture that thinks training is transformation. A user who has every option and no subjectivity.

Against this, IPA/FLŽ resurrects Freud’s ghost not as a father, but as an executioner of false peace. “Psychoanalysis must not be plural,” they proclaim, “it must be divided.” Not every perspective deserves space—some must be cut. Not every contradiction deserves compromise—some must be pushed to rupture.

Only then can analysis become revolutionary again. Not a discourse of categories, but a discourse of conflict. Not a stream of content, but a scream of the Real. Not a platform of perspectives, but a structure of division. That is the task. And it begins by tearing down the myth of the Controversial Discussions—psychoanalysis as peace treaty—and returning to its origin: war in the psyche, war in the world.

Conclusion: Against All Adaptation — For the Return of the Lack

The trajectory of institutional psychoanalysis, as diagnosed by IPA/FLŽ, is not one of theoretical evolution but of ideological retreat. Each of the deviations from Freud’s foundational rupture—Anna Freud’s ego pedagogy, Klein’s affective fantasy, Winnicott’s cradle of comfort, Jung’s mythic mystification, Miller’s interpretive choreography—has, in its own way, sought to protect the subject from symbolic lack. They offered safety where Freud offered truth, containment where Lacan offered division, mythology where Žižek demands critique. These betrayals were not errors of interpretation. They were acts of psychic repression at the level of theory itself—defenses masquerading as insight.

Yet the danger does not end in the analytic room. As IPA/FLŽ’s strategy report has made clear, these same deviations now feed the machinery of media pathology. They have become the clinical accomplices of algorithmic spectacle, aesthetic totalitarianism, and the suppression of the unconscious by the screen. The ego-strengthening clinic has become the ego-performing platform. The good internal object has become the perfect image. The holding environment has become the endless binge. The Phallic Woman has become the influencer-goddess. The interpretive dance has become the monetized confession. And the bureaucratic compromise of psychoanalysis has become the simulation of critique in platform pluralism.

In each case, the denial of symbolic lack becomes the opening through which media culture invades the psyche. When therapy soothes instead of divides, when theory aestheticizes instead of intervenes, when interpretation replaces rupture, the Real is exiled—and with it, the subject.

The aim of this article has not been to mourn that loss, but to expose the structural complicity between pathogenic deviations in psychoanalysis and mediatic syndromes in contemporary culture. And this exposure demands not synthesis, not reform, but rupture.

IPA/FLŽ offers a decisive alternative: the return of the lack. Not as an absence to be filled, but as the structural wound from which speech emerges. Not as a clinical failure, but as the precondition of subjectivity. Not as a threat, but as a weapon.

To combat the media spectacle, psychoanalysis must abandon all traces of adaptation. It must rediscover itself not as comfort, but as conflict. Not as reconciliation, but as cut. The lion must not interpret—it must leap.

In this leap, theory becomes strategy. The session becomes confrontation. And the unconscious, long muted by platforms and therapeutic pacification, will once again speak—not in algorithms, not in images, but in rupture, lack, and truth.

That is the revolution IPA/FLŽ declares.
Not the restoration of analysis, but its detonation.
Not the return to Freud, but the return of what Freud unleashed.

The symbolic lack.
The impossible speech.
The Real.