[461] We now come to the work of a psychiatrist who made an attempt to single out two types from among the bewildering variety of mental disturbances that are generally grouped under the heading “psychopathic inferiority.” This very extensive group includes all psychopathic borderline states that cannot be reckoned among the psychoses proper; that is, all the neuroses and all degenerative states such as intellectual, moral, affective, and other psychic inferiorities.
[462] This attempt was made by Otto Gross, who in 1902 published a theoretical study entitled Die zerebrale Sekundärfunktion. It was the basic hypothesis of this work that led him to the conception of two psychological types.1 Although the empirical material discussed by him is taken from the domain of psychopathic inferiority, there is no reason why the insights gained should not be carried over into the wider field of normal psychology. The unbalanced psychic state gives the investigator an almost exaggeratedly clear view of certain psychic phenomena which, very often, can only be dimly perceived within the limits of the normal. The abnormal state sometimes acts like a magnifying glass. Gross himself, in his final chapter, also extends his conclusions to a wider domain, as we shall see.
[463] By the “secondary function” Gross understands a cerebral cell-process that comes into action after the “primary function” has taken place. The primary function would correspond to the actual performance of the cell, namely, the production of a positive psychic process, for example an idea. This performance is an energic process, presumably a discharge of chemical tension; in other words, it is a process of chemical decomposition. After this acute discharge, which Gross calls the primary function, the secondary function comes into action. It is a process of recovery, a rebuilding through assimilation. This function will require for its operation a longer or shorter period depending on the intensity of the preceding discharge of energy. During this time the condition of the cell has altered; it is now in a state of stimulation, and this cannot remain without influence on the subsequent psychic processes. Processes that are especially highly-toned and charged with affect require an especially intense discharge of energy, and hence an especially prolonged period of recovery governed by the secondary function. The effect of the secondary function on the psychic process in general consists, according to Gross, in its specific and demonstrable influence on the subsequent course of association, in the sense that it restricts the choice of associations to the “theme” or “leading idea” represented by the primary function. And indeed, in my own experimental work (which was corroborated by several of my pupils), I was able to demonstrate statistically that perseveration followed in the train of ideas with a high feeling-tone.2 My pupil Eberschweiler, in an investigation of language components,3 has demonstrated this same phenomenon in assonances and agglutinations. Further, we know from experiences in pathology how frequently perseverations occur in the case of severe cerebral lesions, apoplexies, tumours, atrophic and other degenerative states. Such perseverations may well be ascribed to this retarded process of recovery. Gross’ hypothesis thus has much to recommend it.
[464] It is therefore only natural to ask whether there may not be individuals, or even types, in whom the period of recovery, the secondary function, lasts longer than in others, and if so, whether certain characteristic psychologies may not be traceable to this. A short secondary function, clearly, will influence far fewer consecutive associations in a given period of time than a long one. Hence the primary function can operate much more frequently. The psychological picture in such a case would show a constant and rapidly renewed readiness for action and reaction, a kind of distractibility, a tendency to superficial associations and a lack of deeper, more concise ones, and a certain incoherence so far as an association is expected to be significant. On the other hand many new themes will crowd up in a given unit of time, though not at all intense or clearly focussed, so that heterogeneous ideas of varying value appear on the same niveau, thus giving the impression of a “levelling of ideas” (Wernicke). This rapid succession of primary functions necessarily precludes any real experience of the affective value of the ideas per se, with the result that the affectivity cannot be anything other than superficial. But, at the same time, this makes rapid adaptations and changes of attitude possible. The actual thought-process, or process of abstraction, naturally suffers when the secondary function is curtailed in this way, since abstraction requires a sustained contemplation of several initial ideas and their after-effects, and therefore a longer secondary function. Without this, there can be no intensification and abstraction of an idea or group of ideas.
[465] The rapid recovery of the primary function produces a higher reactivity, extensive rather than intensive, leading to a prompt grasp of the immediate present in its superficial aspects, though not of its deeper meanings. A person of this type gives the impression of having an uncritical or unprejudiced attitude; we are struck by his readiness to oblige and by his understanding, or again we may find in him an unaccountable lack of consideration, tactlessness, and even brutality. That too facile gliding over the deeper meanings evokes the impression of blindness to everything not lying immediately on the surface. His quick reactivity has the appearance of presence of mind, of audacity to the point of foolhardiness, which from lack of criticism actually turns out to be an inability to realize danger. His rapidity of action looks like decisiveness; more often than not it is just blind impulse. Interference in other people’s affairs is taken as a matter of course, and this comes all the more easily because of his ignorance of the emotional value of an idea or action and its effect on his fellow men. The ever renewed readiness for action has an adverse effect on the assimilation of perceptions and experiences; as a rule, memory is considerably impaired, because, in general, the associations that can be most readily be reproduced are those that have become massively interlinked with others. Those that are relatively isolated become quickly submerged; for this reason it is infinitely more difficult to remember a series of meaningless, disconnected words than a poem. Excitability and an enthusiasm that soon fades are further characteristics of this type, also a certain lack of taste due to the rapid succession of heterogeneous contents and a failure to appreciate their differing emotional values. His thinking has more the character of a representation and orderly arrangement of contents than that of abstraction and synthesis.
[466] In describing this type with a short secondary function I have followed Gross in all essentials, here and there trans-scribing it in terms of normal psychology. Gross calls this type “inferiority with shallow consciousness.” If the excessively crass features are toned down to the normal, we get an overall picture in which the reader will easily recognize Jordan’s “less emotional” type, i.e., the extravert. Gross deserves full credit for being the first to set up a simple and consistent hypothesis to account for this type.
[467] Gross calls the opposite type “inferiority with contracted consciousness.” In this type the secondary function is particularly intense and prolonged. It therefore influences the consecutive associations to a higher degree than in the other type. We may also suppose an intensified primary function, and hence a more extensive and complete cell-performance than with the extravert. A prolonged and intensified secondary function would be the natural consequence of this. As a result of this prolongation, the after-effect of the initial idea persists for a longer period. From this we get what Gross calls a “contractive effect”: the choice of associations follows the path of the initial idea, resulting in a fuller realization or approfondissement of the “theme.” The idea has a lasting influence, the impression goes deep. One disadvantage of this is that the associations are restricted to a narrow range, so that thinking loses much of its variety and richness. Nevertheless, the contractive effect aids synthesis, since the elements that have to be combined remain constellated long enough to make their abstraction possible. This restriction to one theme enriches the associations that cluster round it and consolidates one particular complex of ideas, but at the same time the complex is shut off from everything extraneous and finds itself in isolation, a phenomenon which Gross (borrowing from Wernicke) calls “sejunction.” One result of the sejunction of the complex is a multiplication of groups of ideas (or complexes) that have no connection with one another or only quite a loose one. Outwardly such a condition shows itself as a disharmonious or, as Gross calls it, a “sejunctive” personality. The isolated complexes exist side by side without any reciprocal influence; they do not interact, mutually balancing and correcting each other. Though firmly knit in themselves, with a logical structure, they are deprived of the correcting influence of complexes with a different orientation. Hence it may easily happen that a particularly strong and therefore particularly isolated and uninfluenceable complex becomes an “over-valued idea,”4 a dominant that defies all criticism and enjoys complete autonomy, until it finally becomes an all-controlling factor manifesting itself as “spleen.” In pathological cases it turns into an obsessive or paranoid idea, absolutely unshakable, that rules the individual’s entire life. His whole mentality is subverted, becoming “deranged.” This conception of the growth of a paranoid idea may also explain why, during the early stages, it can sometimes be corrected by suitable psychotherapeutic procedures which bring it into connection with other complexes that have a broadening and balancing influence.5 Paranoiacs are very wary of associating disconnected complexes. They feel things have to remain neatly separated, the bridges between the complexes are broken down as much as possible by an over-precise and rigid formulation of the content of the complex. Gross calls this tendency “fear of association.”6
[468] The rigid inner cohesion of such a complex hampers all attempts to influence it from outside. The attempt is successful only when it is able to bind the complex to another complex as firmly and logically as it is bound in itself. The multiplication of insufficiently connected complexes naturally results in rigid seclusion from the outside world and a corresponding accumulation of libido within. Hence we regularly find an extraordinary concentration on inner processes, either on physical sensations or on intellectual processes, depending on whether the subject belongs to the sensation or to the thinking type. The personality seems inhibited, absorbed or distracted, “sunk in thought,” intellectually lopsided, or hypochondriacal. In every case there is only a meagre participation in external life and a distinct tendency to solitude and fear of other people, often compensated by a special love of animals or plants. To make up for this, the inner processes are particularly active, because from time to time complexes which hitherto had little or no connection with one another suddenly “collide,” thereby stimulating the primary function to intense activity which, in its turn, releases a prolonged secondary function that amalgamates the two complexes. One might think that all complexes would at some time or other collide in this way, thus producing a general uniformity and cohesion of psychic contents. Naturally, this wholesome result could only come about if in the meantime all change in external life were arrested. But since this is not possible, fresh stimuli continually arrive and initiate secondary functions, which intersect and confuse the inner lines. Accordingly this type has a decided tendency to fight shy of external stimuli, to keep out of the way of change, to stop the steady flow of life until all is amalgamated within. Pathological cases show this tendency too; they hold aloof from everything and try to lead the life of a recluse. But only in mild cases will the remedy be found in this way. In all severe ones, the only remedy is to reduce the intensity of the primary function, but this is a chapter in itself, and one which we have already touched on in our discussion of Schiller’s Letters.
[469] It is clear that this type is distinguished by quite peculiar phenomena in the realm of affect. We have seen how the subject realizes the associations set in motion by the initial idea. He carries out a full and coherent association of the material relevant to the theme, i.e., he associates all material that is not already linked to other complexes. When a stimulus hits on a complex, the result is either a violent explosion of affect, or, if the isolation of the complex is complete, it is entirely negative. But should realization take place, all the affective values are unleashed; there is a strong emotional reaction with a prolonged after-effect. Very often this cannot be seen from outside, but it bores in all the deeper. The emotional reverberations prey on the subject’s mind and make him incapable of responding to new stimuli until the emotion has faded away. An accumulation of stimuli becomes unbearable, so he wards them off with violent defence reactions. Whenever there is a marked accumulation of complexes, a chronic attitude of defence usually develops, deepening into mistrust and in pathological cases into persecution mania.
[470] The sudden explosions, alternating with defensiveness and periods of taciturnity, can give the personality such a bizarre appearance that such people become an enigma to everyone in their vicinity. Their absorption in themselves leaves them at a loss when presence of mind or swift action is demanded. Embarrassing situations often arise from which there seems no way out—one reason the more for shunning society. Moreover the occasional outbursts of affect play havoc with their relations to others, and, because of their embarrassment and helplessness, they feel incapable of retrieving the situation. This awkwardness in adapting leads to all sorts of unfortunate experiences which inevitably produce a feeling of inferiority or bitterness, and even of hatred that is readily directed at those who were the actual or supposed authors of their misfortunes. Their affective inner life is very intense, and the manifold emotional reverberations linger on as an extremely fine gradation and perception of feeling-tones. They have a peculiar emotional sensitivity, revealing itself to the outside world as a marked timidity and uneasiness in the face of emotional stimuli, and in all situations that might evoke them. This touchiness is directed primarily against the emotional conditions in their environment. All brusque expressions of opinion, emotional declarations, playing on the feelings, etc., are avoided from the start, prompted by the subject’s fear of his own emotion, which in turn might start off a reverberating impression he might not be able to master. This sensitivity may easily develop over the years into melancholy, due to the feeling of being cut off from life. In fact, Gross considers melancholy to be especially characteristic of this type.7 He also emphasizes that the realization of affective values easily leads to emotional judgments, to “taking things too seriously.” The prominence given in this picture to inner processes and the emotional life at once reveals the introvert. Gross’s description is much fuller than Jordan’s sketch of the “impassioned type,” though the latter, in its main features, must be identical with the type described by Gross.
[471] In chapter V of his book Gross observes that, within the limits of the normal, both types of inferiority represent physiological differences of individuality. The shallow extensive or the narrow intensive consciousness is therefore a difference of character.8 According to Gross, the type with a shallow consciousness is essentially practical, because of his rapid adaptation to circumstances. His inner life does not predominate, having no part to play in the formation of the “great ideational complexes.” “They are energetic propagandists for their own personality, and, on a higher level, they also work for the great ideas handed down from the past.”9 Gross asserts that the emotional life of this type is primitive, though at a higher level it becomes organized through “the taking over of ready-made ideals from outside.” In this way, Gross says, his activity can become “heroic,” but “it is always banal.” “Heroic” and “banal” scarcely seem compatible with one another. But Gross shows us at once what he means: in this type the connection between the erotic complex and the other complexes of ideas, whether aesthetic, ethical, philosophical, or religious, which make up the contents of consciousness, is not sufficiently developed. Freud would say that the erotic complex has been repressed. For Gross the marked presence of this connection is the “authentic sign of a superior nature” (p. 61). It requires for its development a prolonged secondary function, because a synthesis of the contents can be achieved only through approfondissement and their prolonged retention in consciousness. The taking over of conventional ideals may force sexuality into socially useful paths, but it “never rises above the level of triviality.” This somewhat harsh judgment becomes explicable in the light of the extraverted character: the extravert orients himself exclusively by external data, so that his psychic activity consists mainly in his preoccupation with such things. Hence little or nothing is left over for the ordering of his inner life. It has to submit as a matter of course to determinants accepted from without. Under these circumstances, no connection between the more highly and the less developed functions can take place, for this demands a great expense of time and trouble; it is a lengthy and difficult labour of self-education which cannot possibly be achieved without introversion. But the extravert lacks both time and inclination for this; moreover he is hampered by the same unconcealed distrust of his inner world which the introvert feels for the outer world.
[472] One should not imagine, however, that the introvert, thanks to his greater synthetizing capacity and ability to realize affective values, is thereby equipped to complete the synthesis of his own individuality without further ado—in other words, to establish once and for all a harmonious connection between the higher and lower functions. I prefer this formulation to Gross’s, which maintains that it is solely a question of sexuality, for it seems to me that other instincts besides sex are involved. Sexuality is of course a very frequent form of expression for crude and untamed instincts, but so too is the striving for power in all its manifold aspects. Gross coined the term “sejunctive personality” for the introvert in order to emphasize the peculiar difficulty this type has in integrating his complexes. His synthetizing capacity merely serves in the first place to build up complexes that, so far as possible, are isolated from each other. But such complexes positively hinder the development of a higher unity. Thus the sexual complex, or the egoistic striving for power, or the search for pleasure, remains just as isolated and unconnected with other complexes in the introvert as in the extravert. I remember the case of an introverted, highly intellectual neurotic who spent his time alternating between the loftiest flights of transcendental idealism and the most squalid suburban brothels, without any conscious admission of a moral or aesthetic conflict. The two things were utterly distinct as though belonging to different spheres. The result, naturally, was an acute compulsion neurosis.
[473] We must bear this criticism in mind when following Gross’s account of the type with intensive consciousness. Intensive consciousness is, as Gross says, “the foundation of the introspective individuality.” Because of the strong contractive effect, external stimuli are always regarded from the standpoint of some idea. Instead of the impulse towards practical life there is a “drive for inwardness.” “Things are conceived not as individual phenomena but as partial ideas or components of the great ideational complexes.” This view accords with what we said earlier in our discussion of the nominalist and realist standpoints and the Platonic, Megarian, and Cynic schools in antiquity. It is easy to see from Gross’s argument what the difference is between the two standpoints: the [extraverted] man with the short secondary function has many loosely connected primary functions operating in a given space of time, so that he is struck more particularly by the individual phenomenon. For him universals are only names lacking reality. But for the [introverted] man with the prolonged secondary function, the inner facts, abstractions, ideas, or universals always occupy the foreground; for him they are the only true realities, to which he must relate all individual phenomena. He is therefore by nature a realist (in the Scholastic sense). Since, for the introvert, the way he thinks about things always takes precedence over the perception of externals, he is inclined to be a relativist.10 Harmony in his surroundings gives him especial pleasure;11 it reflects his own inner urge to harmonize his isolated complexes. He avoids all “uninhibited behaviour” because it might easily lead to disturbing stimuli (explosions of affect must of course be excepted). His social savoir faire is poor because of his absorption in his inner life. The predominance of his own ideas prevents him from taking over the ideas or ideals of others. The intense inner elaboration of the complexes gives them a pronounced individual character. “The emotional life is frequently of no use socially, but is always individual.”12
[474] We must subject this statement to a thorough criticism, for it contains a problem which, in my experience, always gives rise to the greatest misunderstandings between the types. The introverted intellectual, whom Gross obviously has in mind here, outwardly shows as little feeling as possible, he entertains logically correct views and tries to do the right things in the first place because he has a natural distaste for any display of feeling and in the second because he is fearful lest by incorrect behaviour he should arouse disturbing stimuli, the affects of his fellow men. He is afraid of disagreeable affects in others because he credits others with his own sensitiveness; furthermore, he is always distressed by the quickness and volatility of the extravert. He bottles up his feeling inside him, so that it sometimes swells into a passion of which he is only too painfully aware. His tormenting emotions are well known to him. He compares them with the feelings displayed by others, principally, of course, with those of the extraverted feeling type, and finds that his “feelings” are quite different from those of other men. Hence he gets round to thinking that his feelings (or, more correctly, emotions) are unique or, as Gross says, “individual.” It is natural that they should differ from the feelings of the extraverted feeling type, because the latter are a differentiated instrument of adaptation and therefore lack the “genuine passion” which characterizes the deeper feelings of the introverted thinking type. But passion, as an elemental instinctive force, possesses little that is individual—it is something common to all men. Only what is differentiated can be individual. In the case of intense emotions, type differences are instantly obliterated in the “human-all-too-human.” In my view, the extraverted feeling type has really the chief claim to individualized feeling, because his feelings are differentiated; but he falls into the same delusion in regard to his thinking. He has thoughts that torment him. He compares them with the thoughts expressed by the other people around him, chiefly those of the introverted thinking type. He discovers that his thoughts have little in common with them; he may therefore regard them as individual and himself, perhaps, as an original thinker, or he may repress his thoughts altogether, since no one else thinks the same. In reality they are thoughts which everybody has but are seldom uttered. In my view, therefore, Gross’s statement springs from a subjective delusion, though one that is the general rule.
[475] “The heightened contractive power enables one to get absorbed in things to which no immediate vital interest is attached.”13 Here Gross hits on an essential feature of the introverted mentality: the introvert delights in elaborating his thoughts for their own sake, regardless of external reality. This is both an advantage and a danger. It is a great advantage to be able to develop a thought into an abstraction, freed from the confines of the senses. The danger is that it will be removed altogether from the sphere of practical applicability and lose its vital value. The introvert is always in danger of getting too far away from life and of viewing things too much under their symbolic aspect. This is also stressed by Gross. The extravert is in no better plight, though for him matters are different. He has the capacity to curtail the secondary function to such an extent that he experiences practically nothing but a succession of positive primary functions: he is nowhere attached to anything, but soars above reality in a kind of intoxication; things are no longer seen as they are but are used merely as stimulants. This capacity is an advantage in that it enables him to manoeuvre himself out of many difficult situations (“he who hesitates is lost”), but, since it so often leads to inextricable chaos, it finally ends in catastrophe.
[476] From the extraverted type Gross derives what he calls the “civilizing genius,” and from the introverted type the “cultural genius.” The former he equates with “practical achievement,” the latter with “abstract invention.” In the end Gross expresses his conviction that our age stands in especial need of the contracted, intensive consciousness, in contrast to former ages when consciousness was shallower and more extensive. “We delight in the ideal, the profound, the symbolic. Through simplicity to harmony—that is the art of the highest culture.”14
[477] Gross wrote these words in 1902. And now? If one were to express an opinion at all, one would have to say that we obviously need both civilization and culture,15 a shortening of the secondary function for the one, and its prolongation for the other. We cannot create one without the other, and we must admit, unfortunately, that modern humanity lacks both. Where there is too much of the one there is too little of the other, if we want to put it more cautiously. The continual harping on progress has by now become rather suspect.
[478] In conclusion I would like to remark that Gross’s views coincide substantially with my own. Even my terms “extraversion” and “introversion” are justified in the light of his conceptions. It only remains for us to make a critical examination of Gross’s basic hypothesis, the concept of the secondary function.
[479] It is always a risky business to frame physiological or “organic” hypotheses with respect to psychological processes. There was a regular mania for this at the time of the great successes in brain research, and the hypothesis that the pseudopodia of the brain-cells withdrew during sleep is by no means the most absurd of those that were taken seriously and deemed worthy of “scientific” discussion. People were quite justified in speaking of a veritable “brain mythology.” I have no desire to treat Gross’s hypothesis as another “brain myth”—its empirical value is too great for that. It is an excellent working hypothesis, and one that has received due recognition in other quarters as well. The concept of the secondary function is as simple as it is ingenious. It enables one to reduce a very large number of complex psychic phenomena to a satisfying formula—phenomena whose diversity would have resisted simple reduction and classification under any other hypothesis. It is indeed such a happy one that, as always, one is tempted to overestimate its range of application. This, unfortunately, is rather limited. We will entirely disregard the fact that the hypothesis in itself is only a postulate, since no one has ever seen a secondary function of the brain cells, and no one could demonstrate how and why it has in principle the same contractive effect on subsequent associations as the primary function, which is by definition essentially different from the secondary function. There is a further fact which in my opinion carries even greater weight: the psychological attitude in one and the same individual can change its habits in a very short space of time. But if the duration of the secondary function has a physiological or organic character, it must surely be regarded as more or less constant. It could not then be subject to sudden change, for such changes are never observed in a physiological or organic character, pathological changes excepted. But, as I have pointed out more than once, introversion and extraversion are not traits of character at all but mechanisms, which can, as it were, be switched on or off at will. Only from their habitual predominance do the corresponding characters develop. The predilection one way or the other no doubt depends on the inborn disposition, but this is not always the decisive factor. I have frequently found environmental influences to be just as important. In one case in my experience, it even happened that a man with markedly extravert behaviour, while living in close proximity to an introvert, changed his attitude and became quite introverted when he later came into contact with a pronounced extraverted personality. I have repeatedly observed how quickly personal influences can alter the duration of the secondary function even in a well-defined type, and how the previous condition re-establishes itself as soon as the alien influence is removed.
[480] With such experiences in mind, we should, I think, direct our attention more to the nature of the primary function. Gross himself lays stress on the special prolongation of the secondary function in the wake of strongly feeling-toned ideas,16 thus showing its dependence on the primary function. There is, in fact, no plausible reason why one should base a theory of types on the duration of the secondary function; it could be based just as well on the intensity of the primary function, since the duration of the secondary function is obviously dependent on the intensity of the cell-performance and on the expenditure of energy. It might be objected that the duration of the secondary function depends on the rapidity of cell recovery, and that there are individuals with especially prompt cerebral assimilation as opposed to others who are less favoured. In that case the brain of the extravert must possess a greater capacity for cell recovery than that of the introvert. But such a very improbable assumption lacks all proof. What is known to us of the actual causes of the prolonged secondary function is limited to the fact that, leaving pathological conditions aside, the special intensity of the primary function results, quite logically, in a prolongation of the secondary function. That being so, the real problem would lie with the primary function and might be resolved into the question: how comes it that in one person the primary function is intense, while in another it is weak? By shifting the problem to the primary function, we have to account for its varying intensity, which does indeed alter very rapidly. It is my belief that this is an energic phenomenon, dependent on a general attitude.
[481] The intensity of the primary function seems to me directly dependent on the degree of tension in the propensity to act. If the psychic tension is high, the primary function will be particularly intense and will produce corresponding results. When with increasing fatigue the tension slackens, distractibility and superficiality of association appear, and finally “flight of ideas,” a condition characterized by a weak primary and a short secondary function. The general psychic tension (if we discount physiological causes, such as relaxation, etc.) is dependent on extremely complex factors, such as mood, attention, expectancy, etc., that is to say, on value judgments which in their turn are the resultants of all the antecedent psychic processes. By these judgments I mean not only logical judgments but also judgments of feeling. Technically, the general tension could be expressed in the energic sense as libido, but in its psychological relation to consciousness we must express it in terms of value. An intense primary function is a manifestation of libido, i.e., it is a highly charged energic process. But it is also a psychological value; hence we term the trains of association resulting from it valuable in contrast to those which are the result of a weak contractive effect, and these are valueless because of their superficiality.
[482] A tense attitude is in general characteristic of the introvert, while a relaxed, easy attitude distinguishes the extravert.17 Exceptions, however, are frequent, even in one and the same individual. Give an introvert a thoroughly congenial, harmonious milieu, and he relaxes into complete extraversion, so that one begins to wonder whether one may not be dealing with an extravert. But put an extravert in a dark and silent room, where all his repressed complexes can gnaw at him, and he will get into such a state of tension that he will jump at the slightest stimulus. The changing situations of life can have the same effect of momentarily reversing the type, but the basic attitude is not as a rule permanently altered. In spite of occasional extraversion the introvert remains what he was before, and the extravert likewise.
[483] To sum up: the primary function is in my view more important than the secondary. The intensity of the primary function is the decisive factor. It depends on the general psychic tension, i.e., on the amount of accumulated, disposable libido. The factors determining this accumulation are the complex resultants of all the antecedent psychic states—mood, attention, affect, expectancy, etc. Introversion is characterized by general tension, an intense primary function and a correspondingly long secondary function; extraversion by general relaxation, a weak primary function and a correspondingly short secondary function.