What the Group Analyst is actually doing.

In my experience, people often imagine a group therapist as a kind of moderator (maybe even a referee)—structuring discussion, teaching skills, keeping the momentum. That model isn’t entirely wrong, but it applies to only certain modalities, particularly manualized, skills-based groups such as Cognitive Behavioral Therapy (CBT). In a psychoanalytic group frame, however, my role is qualitatively different and intentionally less visible. From the outside, it can appear as though I am relatively inactive, maybe painfully passive to some. In practice, my work is continuous, highly deliberate, and oriented toward processes that are largely implicit.

I typically run Interpersonal Process Groups of eight members each. With each of my groups, the group coheres into something that is not reducible to its individual participants. In analytic terms, the group-as-a-whole functions as a “ninth member.” My attention is distributed across both the individual and this emergent entity—its affective tone, its pacing, its connections and its defensive operations. I am tracking how the group organizes itself over time: what it privileges, what it disavows, what it cannot yet symbolize, and what it compulsively repeats. This requires a form of listening that privileges process over content—an attunement to pattern, omission, displacement, and shifts in the relational field. I may be sitting quietly but internally I am busy formulating a mental map of the group process.

The group becomes a container for semiotic material—latent symbolic themes that circulate within the process prior to being explicitly articulated. These themes tend to emerge obliquely: through repetition, metaphor, enactment, role assignment, and the distribution of affect across members. My task is not to impose premature coherence, but to allow these configurations to stabilize and become perceptible within the group’s shared experience. I may do this simply by pausing the group and asking what is happening in the “here-and-now.” Interpretation is therefore used sparingly and with attention to timing. When offered, it is provisional—an opening rather than a conclusion—so that the group can metabolize and elaborate it rather than defer to it. This, I find is one of the key challenges for newer group therapists.

A central tenet of this work is that group is not “individual therapy with an audience.” If I privilege dyadic exchanges with each member, the group never consolidates as a therapeutic agent. “Bridging” is a primary technique in this regard: I draw attention to commonalities, differences, and relational parallels between members. The goal is to actively work to mobilize the group’s capacity to observe and think about itself. (I liberally use the “9th member” metaphor with each group to encourage this needed reflection). Rather than isolating an interpretation within a single person, I link experiences across the milieu—inviting members to locate themselves in relation to one another. Over time, it is hoped that this function becomes internalized. The group begins to generate its own associations, to identify patterns, and to intervene in its own process.

In my own work, I have always been strongly influenced by the works of Louis Ormont, PhD, a pioneering group psychotherapist. Drawing on Ormont’s work, I am also attending to the “here-and-now” interpersonal field and working to reduce avoidance of immediacy. This includes gently confronting distancing maneuvers—intellectualization, storytelling without affect, excessive focus on external content—and redirecting attention toward what is occurring between members in real time. This work of elucidating defenses may be where I spend most of my time each week. I am monitoring levels of engagement and risk, encouraging members to articulate thoughts and feelings they might otherwise withhold. I encourage what I teach members to be “horizontal communication” (Member to member) vs. “vertical communication (Member reference to the self). The aim is to increase emotional contact and interpersonal learning without overwhelming the group’s tolerance.

Resistance, in this context, is rarely localized. It tends to manifest as a distributed phenomenon—silences, abrupt topic shifts, coalitions, scapegoating, or the subtle marginalization of particular voices. I am continuously fascinated how the group co-constructs these defenses and how individual resistances are either reinforced or challenged within the group. While it might seem frustrating for both the analyst and the group, I see interpretation as less about confrontation and more about rendering these processes thinkable—placing them into the conscious awareness of the members.

Transference and countertransference acquire additional layers of complexity. Transference refers to the ways members experience others—myself included—through the templates of prior relational experience. In group, this is not a singular projection but a multiplex system: intersecting transferences that shape the entire relational field. I am tracking both transferences between members and towards myself. Countertransference—my own affective and somatic responses—serves as an instrument for understanding the group’s unconscious communications. The task is to register these experiences without enacting them, and to translate them over time.

I recall one such group I led where despite the usual momentum of this group historically, I found myself stymied from engagement in a session. My attention drifted to the clock and how seemingly slow it was this particular week. On such occasions, it would be easy to see yourself as a “bad therapist” for having a drifting attention span—however for group analysis, experiences like this are particularly important and useful. Registering this feeling of boredom and disengagement in myself, I knew I was experiencing some small projection of the group’s resistance. Once I had realized this, I was able to draw attention to the group’s hesitancy to address a tension in the room that was all but “brushed under the rug” from a conflict in the previous week’s session.

Because much of the work operates at this level, it can feel indeterminate. There are fewer overt interventions and fewer immediate resolutions. The process privileges depth over immediacy and as such it can be a long process. I encourage each member to consider the commitment carefully before joining, simply put: time and consistency are needed to see a benefit. Over time, however, I have seen a rich series of relationships and insights grow from within the group. Members begin to recognize their patterns as they unfold in vivo. They come to understand not only what they feel, but how they are experienced, and how they participate in shaping the relational field around them.

From the outside, the work remains understated. That is by design, certainly not a design I can take credit for but one that I am continuously inspired by. It can sound complex when described this way, but in practice it returns to something more fundamental: the capacity for real human connection and the willingness to give and receive honest feedback with others.

If you are interested in considering joining an interpersonal process group or to see if group therapy is right for you, feel free to reach out today for a group consultation appointment: newpatient@clinicaltherapypractice.net


Stephen Haramis, LCSW-R, BCD

This content is for informational and educational purposes only and is not a substitute for professional medical or mental health advice, diagnosis, or treatment. Reading this material does not establish a therapeutic relationship. If you are experiencing a medical or mental health emergency, please seek appropriate professional care or call emergency services.

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