Introduction to Psychological Types
By F8ksja
The attitude is a broad term in Jungian psychology referring to the general state of 'readiness', the will to spend psychic energy and direct it in some way. But when defining the psychological types, what matters most is the general attitude of the consciousness. Such an attitude can be either introverted or extraverted, which depends on whether one's psychic energy is directed inward or outward. Introversion and extraversion are categories which attach to the entire consciousness, a category above function-types, one which speaks about the entire conscious sphere rather than a specific distribution. Introversion and extraversion are dichotomous; they reflect exactly opposed psychic dispositions. Consequently, if someone's conscious attitude is extraverted, then his unconscious attitude will be introverted and vice versa. The opposing attitude will compensate for the conscious preference.
The function, on the other hand, is a kind of vessel through which psychic energy is directed. It is a category subordinate to the general attitude of the consciousness. And so if someone is an extravert (that is: his consciousness is defined by an outward-turning libido), then this extraversion will manifest through the conscious function. Jung distinguishes four fundamental psychic functions: intuition, sensation, thinking, and feeling. The first two are irrational functions, which means that they focus on raw aesthetic apprehension and undisturbed experience; the latter two are rational functions, which means that they do not seek to experience but to categorize either by intellectual or ethical standards.
In the contemporary understanding of Jungian psychology, people assume that the function is inherently merged with the attitude. For instance, many believe that there exist 'function stacks' where one has a dominant function of one attitude and the auxiliary function of another attitude. That, however, is entirely misguided and unfounded. The conscious attitude is not a quality of the function in its own right; it's a category above function-types. The more conscious a function becomes, the more it aligns with the conscious attitude, and the more unconscious and repressed it is, the more it aligns with the unconscious attitude. For instance, an extraverted intuitive's intuition will be entirely conscious whereas all the other psychic functions will be repressed to some degree. The more he integrates other functions into his consciousness, for instance in the form of the auxiliary function, the more such a function aligns with his conscious extraversion. Conversely, if he represses all other functions, they will blend with the unconscious introverted attitude. It's also worth noting that the repressed psychic contents are not entirely differentiated from one another; the unconscious is a kind of amalgamation. Its contents are archaic and infantile and so the repressed functions more so merge with one another and create a soup of archaism rather than being proper differentiated factors. That is not the case with conscious contents, which are largely willful and psychic energy flows through them in a more organized manner.
A psychological type is formed when a habitual attitude merges with a habitual function. What I mean by 'habitual' ought to be understood as a disposition by which one conditions his habits and conscious preferences. A habitual function feels the most natural and normal to the psyche, it is utilized automatically and it is under the control of the will. The more conscious a function is, the more habitual it becomes. This also ties in to the concept of the ego, which is the center of one's personality and identity. Habitual contents are in syntony with the ego. To put it simply, the consciousness is the relation of psychic contents to the ego, and when that happens, such contents become habitual. And this habituality is defined by the aforementioned natural and prevalent conscious usage, the individual identifies with the function, it becomes the center of his conscious disposition, he makes choices according to this function and he dedicates his life to the pursuit of satisfying such function. And, of course, "function" in this sentence can be replaced with any kind of habitual disposition, such as the attitude of the consciousness.
I already briefly touched upon the idea of 'function stacks' and stated them to not be a thing in Jungian psychology. I will now expand on this thought so as not to leave the reader in any kind of doubt. Function stacks operate on the idea that every psychological type comes with a rigidly assigned set of functions with an attitude attached to the function. For instance, an introverted intuitive must have auxiliary extraverted thinking or feeling, and a tertiary function opposed to the auxiliary, etc. However, there is no psychological foundation to assume that this would be the case—just as it is nonsensical to assume that the attitude could be derived from the function. As I stated, the attitude is a category above functions; it is the orientation of the entire conscious or unconscious sphere. Functions are merely vessels through which this inward- or outward-turning is directed, channels which give the attitude shape and flavor. Not only is there no logical principle which supports those rigid stacks, there is also no logic behind attaching an attitude to a function. One does not possess both extraverted and introverted feeling, and one’s type is not determined by the preference of one over the other. Feeling is a function in its own right, and its attitude is defined by the overarching orientation of the consciousness. Moreover, for all introverts the extraverted factor will be maximally repressed, and so it is absurd to assume that one’s auxiliary function could be in the opposite attitude to the primary one.
This is a perpetual question among those who favor ‘function stacks,’ something which is simply not a thing in Jungian psychology. We should assume that the auxiliary function does not have an inherent attitude. As I explained in the preceding paragraphs, the attitude is a category above function-types; it is a quality of the conscious or unconscious as a whole. The auxiliary function, if it appears in the first place, is semi-unconscious, and so psychic energy from both layers of the psyche is directed into it. It possesses qualities which are unconscious and conscious—it is partly under will and conscious control, but also a bit “off the leash.”
For instance, an extraverted thinker with auxiliary and pronounced intuition may engage in certain images and may be in tune with arising possibilities. His general disposition will also appear more idealistic and theoretical than realistic and practical, but his intuition remains not entirely conscious, so he may occasionally experience paranoid visions, and his insight into the images of his unconscious may be rather clumsy. His unconscious, which—given his conscious extraversion—is introverted, also has some possession over intuition, so this archaic introversion manifests in the aforementioned clumsy or even infantile insight.
That being said, the auxiliary is not exactly introverted, as well as not exactly extraverted; it largely depends on the specific example. But the more conscious the auxiliary becomes, the more it aligns with the conscious attitude, and the more unconscious and repressed it is, the more it inherits the unconscious attitude and its archaic nature.
We must also remember that there are instances where there is no auxiliary function, where all functions aside from the primary one are subject to repression and thus inherit the qualities of the unconscious and its attitude. In such instances, the individual cannot be said to possess an auxiliary function. One might use the argument that the ‘function stack’ remains valid, and that it is simply the case that the dominant function is of one attitude while all other functions, including the auxiliary one, are of the opposite attitude. But that is a vast misinterpretation of the phenomenon of repression in Jungian psychology.
The unconscious does not possess such clearly differentiated qualities and stackings. All repressed contents become a kind of archaic amalgamation with no distinct features between each function. For instance, a thinker who represses intuition, sensation, and feeling—while he most definitely represses feeling the most—still possesses an unconscious in which sensation mixes with feeling, and intuition with sensation, and where all of them mix with the attitude, creating a conglomerate of infantilism.
That being said, when all functions are repressed, there is simply no auxiliary function, for the auxiliary must by definition be semi-conscious and semi-unconscious (which is clearly not the case here), and because the unconscious does not possess distinct functions with specific roles; it is a conglomerate and amalgamation.
Many certainly have noticed the trend of naming the Jungian functions ‘cognitive functions’, and equating the whole structure to a matter of cognition rather than personality. Many advocate for renaming this cluster of systems as ‘cognitive types’ rather than ‘personality types’, for what do cognitive functions have to do with personality? This question would be rational if not for the fact that Jungian typology is, in fact, aimed specifically at personality. One’s psychological type and habitual functions are a matter of the ego, which could be defined as the center of one’s self-concept and identity. Furthermore, Jung never regarded the functions as ‘cognitive functions’, as they have nothing to do with cognition.
Using the word ‘cognitive’ in this context is a severe misnomer and it is entirely pseudoscientific, as cognition is a field of scientific study while the psyche and psychic energy are simply not. And while we are at it, it ought to be said that Jungian psychology does not deal with cognition but rather the flow of psychic energy (libido) through attitudes, which we may regard as certain vessels or channels through which psychic energy is directed. Those attitudes can be a matter of consciousness or functions; for example, if the general attitude of the consciousness is introverted, then libido will be directed inwards, and if the habitual function is an intuitive one, then this inward-turning libido is further channeled through intuition. That being said, the psychic functions are not cognitive, but rather psychic, and Jung himself regarded them as ‘psychic’ or ‘psychological’ functions and has never used the term ‘cognitive’. For those more interested in the subject, I can recommend an article by Noferrah on this specific issue, which you can read here.
Intuition, when met with extraversion as the attitude of the consciousness, becomes a kind of machine which instinctively detects possibilities in the objective world. Intuition by itself is an unconscious perceptive process; it is unconscious because its user does not ‘activate’ it consciously, it is more so an automatic process which works without conscious effort. An intuitive type simply looks at something and an intuitive image appears to him without effort and will engaged in this process. So we shall make no mistake and assume that intuition is in any way related to ‘generating ideas’ or active possibility-seeking, since it is simply not true. Truly habitual intuition manifests unconsciously.
This creates a man whose habitual disposition is oriented by the possibilities his intuition detects, or the images his intuition produces. Those possibilities and images are, of course, formed in relation to objective phenomena. This disposition can be observed in gamblers, bankers, entrepreneurs, salesmen, and investors of all kinds. He is a man who can look at a cat doing a silly thing and immediately think of the money he would make if he recorded it. Those are the kinds of images which appear to him; they appear in the form of possibilities and potentialities, a kind of hunch which appears automatically and tells him what he should pursue. He can utilize social opportunities and make connections effortlessly; when an image appears to him in the form of a potentiality, he will be fascinated by it, he will engage in it and follow through. This possibility will hold immense value to him in the moment in which it appears, he will animate this image and fascinate others with it, make his interlocutors equally ‘hyped’ for the pursuit. That is, of course, until this possibility loses potential in his eyes, becomes bland and uninteresting, which tends to happen extraordinarily quickly with intuitives.
Intuition, despite being an unconscious process, is a conscious one for intuitive types. This is a paradoxical relation and it ought to be explained in more detail, for what it means is that despite intuition being ‘automatic’ and not entirely under conscious control, it remains habitual and defines the conscious preference of the extraverted intuitive. He will orient his consciousness by this unconscious type of perception, his will will be entirely determined by the possibilities he perceives, and he will utilize them every chance he gets.
We shall also make no mistake and misjudge extraverted intuitives as ‘lost in the clouds’ or detached in any way. For extraversion makes them extraordinarily grounded and realistic. Intuition is a quasi-hallucinatory form of perception (due to the fact that it involves the appearance of images), but intuition in the extraverted attitude is anything but unrealistic. It is attuned to possibilities in the objective world and the potentialities of external objects and people. An extraverted intuitive can utilize financial possibilities, ‘make men’, and infer the potential of practical pursuits. Moreover, anything which does not hold objective effect or utility is useless to him, perceived as a ‘fruitless fantasy’ which ought not to be pursued and instead ought to be disregarded.
The more intuition predominates, the more sensation is repressed, along with the introverted attitude which defines his unconscious. And the more those elements are repressed, the more they want to resurface in forms which are invasive and disturbing to the ego, sometimes to pathological extents. Such resurfaced sensation can appear in various sensorial hypersensitivities and phobias, hypochondria, germophobia and the like. Introversion may also reappear in ways akin to odd sentimentality or erratic self-expression which may interfere with his objective pursuits. Jung used the example of a businessman (likely an extraverted intuitive) who ruined his prestigious business by spontaneously deciding to make products based on his own internal and, quite frankly, childish fancies.
This psychological disposition is marked by a habitual orientation toward sensation in the sphere of objective experience. It is not hard to imagine such an individual as highly grounded and realistic, in a constant pursuit of sensory experience, physiological pleasure, and intensity. It is also not hard to deduce that such a man is prone to being a pleasure-seeker and aesthete, someone with a dedication toward what induces sensory pleasure. For the sensing type, the object which induces the sensory experience is lost behind the experience itself. And whereas the introverted sensor replaces it with a subjective impression, the extraverted one, being far more objective in his perceptions, replaces it with pure sensation. For instance, it is not the nature or dimensions of the object which matter to him, but the experience it can provide him with—especially if it is pleasurable experience.
He conditions his morality by such experience; his rational functions are mostly at the mercy of sensation and do not take priority in the psyche. His reason and ethical convictions are subordinated to sensation, and the more sensation predominates, the more he turns into a crude and unpleasant individual. For in that instance, he does not take into account the value of an object, the sentiment attached to it, or even reason, but instead determines what is right and wrong, what is reasonable and unreasonable, by the sensation a pursuit provides him with. His love choice, the general bonds he forms with others, as well as most of his life choices, are determined by physical pleasure or intensity. The more the object caters to his sense-perception, the more value it gets, and the more reasonable it becomes in his perception to indulge in it.
Jung compared this psychological type to the Nietzschean Dionysian state—a state of pure experience, a force which flows through the body. It is a state compared to drunkenness, one which is not guarded by reason or meaning but which signifies experience in its own right. The extraverted sensor is inherently a Dionysian character; he lives in constant alertness in relation to sensation, and the sensation he experiences stands as a compass leading toward greater sensation. As with any function, for sensation to be habitual, one must determine his consciousness by sensory experience and the realism derived from it.
The repressed intuition is rather interesting in manifestation, for the extraverted sensor may experience various kinds of hallucinations, paranoid beliefs, and intense jealousy regarding his partners, especially with sexual background—all of which intensify the more neurotic sensation becomes and the more it occupies the consciousness, leaving no room for other functions to appear in the ego. The factors of introversion as well as intuition may resurface in bizarre religious visions and beliefs, and those may connect to various compulsions preceded by the aforementioned hallucinatory obsessions.
Subjectivized intuition is in nature directed at the contents of the unconscious. Those contents, like with the extraverted intuitive, include images. But whereas the extraverted intuitive perceives images in relation to objective phenomena, predominantly in the form of hunches and rapid business-intuitions of an opportunistic nature, the introverted counterpart directs his intuition inward, at archetypes, symbols, and a priori images which arise within his psyche. Those images are, by definition, a product of phantasy. They most commonly arise in relation to objective phenomena; the intuitive can perceive an event or experience some kind of sense-based innervation and then, from this experience, an internal image arises. And whereas the introverted sensor suppresses the objective experience in favor of the impression it produces, the intuitive suppresses both the experience as well as the sense-experience and replaces it with the primordial image.
Like with all psychic functions, habitual intuition is characterized by the fact that the individual orients his entire consciousness by such intuition. He will make decisions based on his intuitions and he will commit to it entirely, essentially living in the phantasy-induced world produced by his unconscious. Jung’s research of the introverted intuitive type has led to the discovery of the schizotypal personality disorder, and the similarities between both categorizations cannot be denied. In the case of schizotypy we are speaking of an obvious pathology, so a direct connection cannot be made in a non-exaggerated fashion. Jung’s description of the introverted intuitive regards a phenomenon which modern psychology regards as “magical thinking,” a kind of disposition in which the individual perceives himself as a subject of his perceptions. For instance, the introverted intuitive may experience quasi-prophetic visions and rather instinctively see himself as the subject of this prophecy. All of the visions and images he perceives he relates to himself. He jumps from image to image, holding the same indifference to abandoned pursuits as his extraverted cousin.
As long as he is a pure type, he will not be concerned with the moral implications or rational constraints of his perceptions; he will simply live in his “phantasy world” without regard for any rational issues. The more his intuition predominates, the more he becomes a mystical dreamer, a detached artist, or simply a crank. His world is filled with symbols and myths; all perceptions are tied to a corresponding image. If he happens to have more conscious rational functions, he will not only seek the images in their own right, but also the meaning and implications behind them. He will aim to actualize them or to find what truly lies behind them, potentially even trying to structurize them and build logical frameworks from his intuitions if his thinking is consciously favored; a fitting example of this disposition is Friedrich Nietzsche.
Jung deemed this type the most detached and impractical of man, an enigma to his own surroundings and indifferent to the reality surrounding him, for factuality and sensation are replaced with the intuitive image derived from them. With his repression of extraverted sensation, he may be prone to obsessive-compulsive delusions which intensify the more neurotic his introversion and intuition become. Like the extraverted intuitive, he may experience various kinds of sensorial hypersensitivities and aversions due to the inherent conflict between sensation and intuition.
Introverted sensation is perhaps the most misunderstood psychological disposition; it possesses a wide range of popular descriptions, ranging from tradition to rigidity and a focus on the past, all of which are simply incorrect. The true nature of sensing in the introverted attitude can be expressed as a subjective and mythologized vision of reality. Whereas extraverted sensation causes one to orient his consciousness by the sensory and physiological effect an objective experience induces, the introverted counterpart focuses on the impression such experience produces in his mind. He will then be captured by this sensory impression and, as long as sensation is his habitual function, he will orient his entire consciousness by the contents of such impression.
Introverted types are far from being grounded and practical, which is not an exception in the case of the sensor. While the impressions to which he subordinates his habits are caused by objectively observed phenomena, the impression on its own is entirely subjective and detached. Jung described it as a kind of ‘psychic mirror world’ which replaces the perceived object with its internal manifestation, making it, by nature, hard to distinguish from actual reality. He frequently used the example of an artist who wants to replicate something on a canvas. This painting, although close to the way things look in reality, will always have a subjective tint to it, as the artist is painting it from the way he has experienced it himself. An introverted sensor, especially a neurotic one, forgets the difference between this painting and reality; he completely replaces what is perceived externally with an internal impression of this object.
His perceptions, as I mentioned in the first paragraph, are mythologized, fantastical, and would certainly appear ludicrous to the extravert. And while they are based on objectively perceived phenomena, the impression is produced a priori, and so the objective nature of his perceptions is replaced with the sole subjective and mythological vision. As Jung stated: “He lives in a mythological world, where men, animals, locomotives, houses, rivers, and mountains appear either as benevolent deities or as malevolent demons.”
Repressed intuition has a wide array of manifestations. Similarly to the extraverted sensor, it will appear in various kinds of hallucinations and paranoid predictions, feelings of “bad energy,” as well as a perpetual feeling of impending danger. That is especially because the repressed intuition finds itself in the extraverted unconscious, and that by itself produces a strong aversion toward objective phenomena and their possibilities, as his intuitions invade his subjective sense-based perceptions. Furthermore, this type is particularly prone to obsessions and compulsions, irrational superstitions, or psychotic disorders from the schizophrenic spectrum.
There can be distinguished two primary manifestations of thinking in the extraverted attitude. The first one, which can be more commonly observed among thinkers with more conscious sensation, is practical extraverted thinking—one which is directed at observable realities and formulas based on empirical observation and tangible evidence. Such thinkers can be found among scientific materialists; those are people oriented by data and evidence, ones who are not concerned with philosophy, for their formula of objective truth is based on observable and verifiable truth. The other manifestation is idealistic extraverted thinking, more common among those thinkers with an intuitive preference. And, as the term Jung used suggests, it is thinking more attuned to ideals and almost Platonic ideologies, where objective truth is found in the more abstract and idealistic form, and where an objective formula is rather theoretical and conceptual.
In both instances, thinking is, of course, oriented by the external, and whether the ‘external’ indicates objectively oriented ideals or empirical evidence is very much irrelevant to the functional definition of extraverted thinking, for both are originated in the sphere of the objective. Extraverted thinkers have the habit of thinking they possess the absolutely objective truth which cannot be denied; they tend to be excessively dogmatic to degrees which may verge on an obsessive-compulsive personality structure. He is a man who, in his view, knows the truth and must impose it onto others. This ‘truth’ is found in a specific formula—an ideology which indicates the correct way of thinking. As mentioned, this formula can be based on empiricism or idealism, but in both cases, it is the totem of correctness and a compass of truth. It is important to note that thinking, like any other function, if it becomes habitual, must determine the overall conscious disposition of the individual. An extraverted thinker must condition his actions and judgments by thinking. It cannot be a mere sidelined process, one which appears once in a while, for instance during disputes. It must be the primary determining factor of the mind, something which defines the individual and does not disappear.
As he obeys this formula, everyone in his environment must too, and anyone who denies the validity of the formula is met with crude critique and dogmatic fervor. An extraverted thinker is vehement in his imposition of perceived truths. The conclusions upon which he builds his formula must be rooted in the objective or observable, in external structures or tangible evidence; otherwise, a structure is of no value to him and a mere product of fantasy. Even in the more idealistic variants, the formula of truth must be founded on conceptual truths and theoretical basis.
Jung described those thinkers as empirical and deterministic as a way to highlight the detachment from subjective means of intellectual engagement. Empiricists are entirely devoted to a posteriori means of experience, rejecting the idea of the subjective origin of ideas; determinists believe reality is entirely devoted to circumstances, making it impossible for there to be any will of human origin involved in the flow of action. In both those philosophical frameworks, there can be noted a detachment from any primordial structure of understanding or experience. Reality is based on evidence or circumstances, but never the self and one’s own will. This is the kind of subordination to the external and suppression of the internal which can be observed in all extraverts, but this philosophical angle presents a much more precise profile for thinking in this attitude.
Repressed feeling may manifest in erratic value-judgments, especially in connection to predominant thinking. For instance, some ideological disputes and criticisms regarding his intellectual formula may cause insults and foul wording; it is intense repressed feeling which resurfaces during such arguments and which clouds his judgment, for all he can think of is how ignorant his interlocutor is; this feeling eliminates the possibility of a mature exchange, for in the thinker’s mind his opponent is inherently wrong and shall be ignored or humiliated. Repressed introversion in connection to feeling may cause internal values and dispositions which contradict the formula and conscious ideologies of the individual. For instance, he may fervently oppose or advocate for something in his ideological judgments, but he may feel indifferent to it or completely opposite in his internal feeling-attitude.
Extraverted feeling as a habitual preference makes one attuned to objective values and external standards to extents which define his personality. Whereas an extraverted thinker is dedicated to an intellectual formula of objective origin or grounding, and where he makes all of his decisions in accordance with such formula, the extraverted feeler does the same with feelings of objective origin or grounding. His consciousness is a kind of replica of collective standards and expectations, a paragon of what is externally valued. His ego is entirely subordinated to the external, and this happens in the realm of feeling-judgments—how the collective feels about things. That is not to say that the extraverted feeler is inherently a shallow individual with no personal depth, or that he consciously replicates what is expected with purpose and will. It is a kind of automatic and ego-syntonic adaptation, one which lies beyond effort and is instead a defining factor of his personality. And while he “adapts” to external feelings, he does not simply adapt—he inherits those dispositions and makes them his own. We are speaking here of subordination, not adaptation.
Feeling concerns itself with the question of how the individual (or, in this instance, the collective) feels about things and judges them on the basis of value. It is an illogical attitude which cannot be rationalized or explained, but which can be, in fact, felt. One does not decide how he feels about things the same way he does not decide what “makes sense” to him; it is an automatic disposition—in the case of extraverts, those automatic judgments are simply taken from the collective or objective reality in general.
Extraverted feelers can be found among philanthropists, social activists, actors and actresses, as well as any kind of public occupation. Philanthropy is most definitely something valued by the collective, and if something is valued, then it is a domain of interest for the extraverted feeler. His aesthetic taste may also be subordinated to feeling, and so he will decorate his house and dress in a way which reflects trends and what society considers attractive and valuable. His entire life is led from the standpoint of heteronomy and conformism.
The more his extraversion predominates, the more he becomes detached from the self, and the more his feeling intensifies, the more it is prone to affect as well as shallowness. When feeling becomes intense enough, it breaks the barrier of sensation and turns into an emotion which, in the case of the extraverted feeler, is most often externalized in a histrionic, loud, or even pompous manner. And because his feeling is inherently connected to the extraverted attitude, the feeler becomes much more radically adapted to external expectations once it occupies more space in the conscious. He becomes a caricature of social expectations. Extraversion is a kind of rejection of the self and of internal values in the case of this feeler, and so his unconscious introversion may resurface in specific circumstances—for instance, in his personal interests or in his ideological judgments. Repressed thinking is archaic, and so in the case of the extraverted feeler it may be rather clumsy. His logic may not make objective sense when he speaks on subjects related to ideology; that is, of course, if he decides to speak on the ideological layer at all, for that stands in contrast to sole feeling.
When thinking appears in the introverted attitude, we are speaking of a man who conditions his consciousness by ideas of subjective origin. Facts as external ideas are irrelevant in the formulation of his intellectual formula. His focus does not lie in the objective sphere nor in empirical truths, but rather in ontological and metaphysical truths, ones which are often mythologized by the thinker. Whereas extraverted thinking conditions itself by the a posteriori, introverted thinking is conditioned by the a priori; it does not form an idea based on observation, but rather forms an idea first and then applies observations to it, sometimes in a biased manner.
Thinking in this attitude, like feeling, is characterized by the priority of intensity over extensity. The internal depth, coherence, and structure of his subjective intellectual formula are much valued over any kind of external application or objectivity. This kind of disposition may make him appear arrogant, overly contemptuous of those who do not agree with his formula; the criticisms regarding his formula, on the other hand, may be entirely justified as the framework he introduces may be entirely detached from any objective truth. But the introverted thinker does not concern himself with such correlation to objective truth. Moreover, once he introduces an idea, he does not ‘hold it by its hand’ nor does he help it grow into the world; quite oppositely, he simply presents it and leaves it, and whenever someone does not agree with the conclusions he drew, he will not be bothered to respond, for he has already presented his idea and there is no need for expansion. What matters to him is that he himself understands his formula, that his ideas are perfectly logical to himself while all external influences are rejected or even ridiculed.
The more the subjective factor predominates, the more detached and mythologized his ideas become. In a neurotic state he may not concern himself at all with any kind of truth-value to his own statements, for his structure is already coherent in relation to the subjective factor. His ideas aim for archetypal and symbolic truth. Thus neurotic introversion may also influence his general social preference, making him more withdrawn and paranoid about external influences as well as his relations with the opposite sex. He compensates for this anxiousness with overscrupulousness and rigid adherence. His shell may be hard and his demeanor may be cold, but the more one comes to know the thinker, the more pleasant he becomes. This facade of harshness comes from his dedication to thinking and a rejection of extraverted feeling, both of which are mutual results of one another and which form this rather unpleasant image and pleasant intimacy.
As opposed to the extraverted thinker, he does not hold much priority for educating others or rigid dogmatism. He will most certainly be arrogant about his own ideas and he will adamantly defend them, but enforcing his beliefs lies beyond the scope of his subjective orientation. Introverted thinkers are, quite frankly, terrible teachers, for instead of educating his students, he would focus on the sole theoretical value of the subject at hand. That, of course, stands in contrast to extraverts who were compared by Jung to romantic thinkers, ones who are passionate about the theoretical subject and aim to express it, often in a spontaneous manner and without constraints on their ability to teach actively. Introverted thinkers, on the other hand, are archetypal examples of classical thinkers, ones who withdraw in order to understand and hold no interest in teaching as opposed to theorizing in its own right.
His repressed feeling may also manifest in pronounced gullibility; the more he is dedicated to his formula, the more he becomes indifferent to external relations and bonds, and so he allows himself to be subject to opportunism and he allows those who surround him to take advantage of him and his indifference. In some cases he may become like a naive child, in others he may be a cold and harsh interlocutor. Furthermore, this feeling-compensation may also take place in the form of an excessive sensitivity to criticisms of his theories, and this sensitivity may be a contributing factor to his isolation.
Whereas extraverted feeling is in line with objective and collective values—what society deems valuable and what society expects—introverted feeling detaches itself entirely from the collective and relies upon values of internal origin. It could be said that feeling in extraversion makes a man into a shallow replica of societal expectations, while in introversion it stays entirely true to itself and its own values. Extraversion in general is associated with the subordination of the subject to the object, while introversion subordinates external realities to a subjective framework.
With introverted feeling comes a preference for intensity rather than extensity; it prioritizes feelings which arise internally and may appear indifferent to external circumstances and social standards. The moral dispositions of an introverted feeler may be very distinct from what is collectively accepted, and those subjective values may not be expressed at all, instead remaining inside. It is important to distinguish feeling from affect, for an introverted feeler is primarily representative of the former. By ‘affect’ we shall understand emotions. Whereas feeling is the sole disposition based on a value-judgment (“I like this,” “I hate this”), affect comes when feeling mixes with sensation and creates a feeling which influences the bodily state of the individual, which comes with a specific facial expression; the feeling breaks the barrier of sensation and induces physiological experience.
When I state that introverted feelers internalize their feelings and do not express them, I am referring to feeling specifically, not affect. It is not necessarily an individual who has intense emotions boiling on the inside, for that can as well be a faculty of sensation. I am speaking of value-based dispositions, certain ethical and moral judgments which define the conscious approach of the introvert. As with any other function, for feeling to be habitual, one must determine his entire conscious approach by the virtues of feeling. He must make decisions in accordance with feeling and prioritize it above any other psychic function, either aesthetic or rational. And whereas an extraverted feeler determines his decisions, appearance, actions, and dispositions by objectively found values, an introverted feeler does so with primordial values—ones which arise in the subject rather than ones which are inherited from standards, traditions, and expectations.
It could be said that introverted feelers form their own traditions. In appearance they may be stoic and indifferent; from the outside, it may be impossible to tell that he is truly a feeler. His feeling is externalized only when necessary, and in such cases he becomes a kind of moralist, sometimes to tyrannical extents. With an inward-turning in the area of feeling comes an attunement to one’s own merits and what renders him unique. Introverted feelers may have a need to externalize their own uniqueness and advertise their diversity.
When thinking predominates, feeling is in natural conflict with it, and vice versa. For instance, an extraverted thinker may have certain internal ethical judgments which are contradictory to his intellectual formula; an introverted feeler, on the other hand, may excessively reject logic and reason in favor of what he deems morally ‘right’. This may reach irrational extents, where even when reason tells him otherwise, he will remain indifferent to those intellectual judgments and stay dedicated to his moral code. When repressed thinking resurfaces, it may take the form of such logical judgments which contradict his conscious convictions and values. It is as if his unconscious persistently told him what is truly rational, causing an internal conflict and split.