CG APISOr ure J v iL ~~ ) ° O ae O > op) ai You About Has to Teach lf and Your World What It Yourse ge le _ of Lorre 7 - 5 ~e fe PP Aa ur # : pre len iene —~ “Stee ts a pl Fae a A - oe ae. : PSOE i P t : ei i A BY wgY ? +4 7, ‘ Ly “ JAN 12 1935 “y, NY ae SOL ogivan SEW BFE36 Bes, Division. yar Section . ‘ _* a . s ra reas Ao de A el" Suda y's ud , } en Are. iy a Lana >) { ae es ‘ es } on ei sire ne a re ‘ "al } ', a : PV i i y ¢ y a hy re - ¥. 1 ; 2 , + : A ae ‘ Ti ee 4 4 : a) Ut les { ee: ur > Th + i Py ae} me) PSYCHOLOGY Lectures*in-Print The People’s Institute “Tectures-in-Print”? Sertes PSYCHOLOGY by Everett Dean Martin $3.00 BEHAVIORISM by John B. Watson $3.00 INFLUENCING HUMAN BEHAVIOR by H. A. Overstreet $3.00 INDUSTRIAL PSYCHOLOGY by Charles S. Myers $2.50 THE MEANING OF A LIBERAL EDUCATION by Everett Dean Martin $3.00 MODERN SCIENCE AND PEOPLE’S HEALTH Edited by Benjamin C. Gruenberg $2.50 Other Volumes in Preparation W-W+ NORTON & COMPANY, INC. 70 Fifth Avenue New York PSYCHOLOGY What It Has to Teach You About Yourself and Your World By ‘i if EVERETT DEAN MARTIN Author of “The Behavior of Crowds,’ “The Mystery of Religion” NEW YORK W -W:-NORTON & COMPANY, INC. Publishers Copyright The People’s Institute Publishing Oompany, Inc., 1924. Printed in the United States of America CONTENTS eee nr ny Lecture Page I. What Psychology really is—Its Uses and Abuses. 1 II. Psychology and Physiology—A Study of Reactions. 15 III. Psychology and Philosophy—The Place of William PAIES er te eer te east ar an et ans em Sota Sree MW NOR Maa Obes 29 IV. Psycho-analysis—What Freud and his Followers have donetor Psychology.) arson inna 45 V. What Psychologists think about Consciousness. ..... 61 Mtge) bemeatalityon bia Ditseae eur atten eyo’, erate "5 VII. Human Nature and the Problems of Instinct...... 89 Wal ite Man andes BMmOuonseae ewes enh, eh eae tOs Xe Lecture on How uwevbbink Geel 117 X. The Value of the Fictions We invent about Our- Selvesa ivan ulmi nn chan magia gta b shane 133 XI. The Unconscious and its Influence upon Human Beha Viorica cra. ie geen eins ide caer a UNe 147 XII. The Significance of the Intelligence Tests......... 161 XII. Is therea Group Mind ? What governs the Behavior OReople an SOClety dearer e nate ce erbine Hanoi [ait 175 XIV. The Psychology of Propaganda and Public Opinion. 191 MN eehhe Psycholopy Of Religionwy et uwiee peta. oh tacts 207 Ney em he bsycholovy of Politica wert wa ty ak cen oon XVII. Are there Psychological differences of Race?...... 237 Pavel liwebchicsiin: thei Licht) of Rsychologysa. wots ek 251 XIX. Behaviorism. — The Latest and Most Debated Developmentsns ature perry na tor eam renee 267 XX. How much Progress can Human Nature Stand?.... 283 _ Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2022 with funding from Princeton Theological Seminary Library https://archive.org/details/osychologywhatitOOmart_0O LECTURE I What Psychology really is—Its Uses and Abuses. \} tu, lias ts é ny i LY te mig ) oe, | AP EEN Tt ATEN Smt ae aN ' 0 ‘ a fal ‘A neh hii ¥ Donia 1 5 a ay \ MP . 4. A Jai) z in ‘ \ . ¢ * . i f 4 v >» : ' , p iE (a4 (tls q 9 ” iy | q 7. { hy wf bie ‘ ’ : nt = et \ 75 ‘ we) he f APA, i \ ; rer Waid \ i Seu * AY iu } : a ee Poke eS rT HM ao . ; ys sa A ‘ : ; fr P t ) : ' , % p " M sa At Dee arias ‘a | if j 7 + : we a4 i. \ k ‘ ‘ se ‘ t i . os 4 : ; wy ; 4 } ’ ’ . 1 iA . 4 . j + t ‘ : ef * . fe ‘ / os Ve) i, \t es y Met 9’ t ; A ed f { ; i 5 t “st v . a - « i : . , ; 4 : ¥ : ’ rm -_ ‘ ’ ; ‘ i ‘he ‘ ay 4A es ‘ i ve , , } . Us j 7 i) Shek a ’ DNS site ' ; i ! 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The psychological point of view is today making changes in the world’s thinking which are perhaps as great as were those which resulted from Darwin’s work in the nineteenth century. Wherever human behavior of any sort takes place there is a psychological fact. Ina sense, we may say that psychology is the attempt to take a scientific view of human behavior. Professor McDougall says, “The aim of psychology is to render our knowledge of human nature more exact and systematic in order that we may control ourselves more wisely and influence our fellow-men more effectively.” This would not be a complete definition of psychology because psychologists also study the behavior of animals. But we are, in this course interested in understanding human nature, and we wish to know in what way psychology can be of help to us. We all have a sort of amateur psychology derived from common sense and from experience. We have certain ways of “sizing people up.” We judge pretty quickly whether we would like to have an individual for our friend; whether we would trust him; and whether he has a striking or capable personality. We are always predicting what so-and-so would do or say under certain circumstances. And we have learned that certain things about ourselves will interest other people; that some things please them, or perhaps make them angry. We see that certain habits of our neighbors or of ourselves are good or bad. We do not hesitate to say that certain people are queer or that certain movements like mobs are “ hysterical.” Moreover, we have each some sort of an idea about himself. We say that we like music or honesty or John Smith; or as a journalist once said to me, “I hate children and tripe and Democrats.” Probably this journalist did not realize that he was making a psychological statement; but he was. For all these things are in a crude way psychological judgments. To be sure, they are not what can be called scientific judgments, for they are often prejudiced and based on insufficient observation, and so often erroneous. The journalist may be correct in stating his dislikes. He may be giving a fairly good picture of certain aspects of his character, but he probably cannot say why he has these prejudices and dislikes. To learn why would require a more careful analysis than we are ordinarily able to make either of ourselves or of our neighbors, Fictitious Views of Human Nature. It is for the lack of such careful and technical analysis that we are so often mistaken about human nature. For instance, a great many people since the war are disillusioned or are trying desperately to save their faith and social ideals. Before 1914 many of these people had certain humanitarian beliefs. They accepted the doctrine that man was naturally good and reasonable—if only he were not kept down by the evil environment. Now we see people behaving in ways that surprise and startle us. Many of us do not know what to think. Some become cynical; others feel that they have lost their ideals. Many feel that civilization is bankrupt, Y4 What most of us forget is that our older prevailing ideas of human nature were, for the most part, matters of dogmas and creeds, inherited from an age which had not yet learned to study human nature scientifically. Most of our political, religious, social, economic, and ethical theories are based upon old fashioned fictions about mankind. Somebody, a philosopher, let us say, who knew much about books and abstract ideas, sat in his den and constructed in thought an imaginary man. About this man he held various made-in-advance notions, usually devised to suit the purpose of his particular philosophical system. These notions, to be sure, were well intended. Often they represented the philosopher’s rebellion against what he regarded as medieval super- stition. He had been taught that man was a “sinner; that his nature was corrupt and prone to evil. The philosopher had seen that the appli- cation of reason to the facts of nature was greatly revolutionizing the old medieval picture of the world about us. And so he concluded that a like revolution of our view of human nature was in store. In this he was probably correct. But what he often did was merely to say that whereas medieval thinkers had said that human nature was all bad, modern knowl- edge must declare it to be naturally good. This is what Rousseau did. Therefore he said in substance that man is essentially reasonable and that given a chance mankind would find happiness in a rational way. Immanuel Kant, the great German philosopher who lived at the close of the 18th century, also held the view that man was essentially rational and that the laws of his reason were universal, applying even to divine beings. The same rationalistic view of human nature was rather typical of our older thinkers. It occurs in Plato and Aristotle. Among modern thinkers it has been a favorite doctrine of the older liberalism and is a presupposition held by many Marxian Socialists. Consequently, most of our political and social theories are based upon views of human nature which at best were pure assumptions and guess work. Where did our older thinkers get this view? ‘They did not go out and study people. In fact, with all their learning they did not know half as much about people and what they think and do, as you and I know. They simply imagined an ideal man and made him the type of us all. It never occurred to them to try to learn whether this imaginary man really existed. Their theories only required a useful, logical fiction. This fiction became the norm, the ideal, about which most modern political and social theories were spun. And when people later found that we are not really that sort of beings they were inclined either to condemn human nature as a whole or fear for the future of civilization. Perhaps it is not necessary to do either of these things. Perhaps we should find, after more careful study, that human nature is variable in some respects and that basically it is neither good nor bad, or is perhaps both, and that with better understanding and control, and only so, may it achieve something. While most of us have been generalizing and have been repeating certain old dogmas about human nature, scholars have gone to work, gathering slowly through carefully controlled experiments in laboratories and clinics a considerable body of knowledge. Roughly, we may say that the first scientific experimental study of human nature began about 100 3 years ago with the work of a German scholar named Weber. Since that time innumerable experiments have been made under all sorts of conditions and these experiments have been subjected to much analysis and discus- sion so that at present enough facts have been gathered to give us what is on the whole a very important science. It is, of course, impossible for the average student of this course to go into a psychological laboratory or clinic. Perhaps that is not necessary if our purpose is to know in general what has been achieved in these places and what is the meaning for us of these one hundred years of scientific study. In any event, I hope we may make our own the spirit of this new Science ; and it is possible that such a view of ourselves will be as subversive to old popular notions as we have found a similar scientific view of the world to be in its revolutionizing effect upon superstitions about nature. To the common sense observer, the sun goes about the earth in 24 hours. Science tells us that in fact the earth goes about the sun once in 12 months and that the apparent daily circle of the sun is due to the turning of the earth on its axis. Likewise, common sense tells us that every species begets its own like; yet science tells us that given time enough species change, and that all our present varied forms of living organisms have a common ancestor. It is possible that science—which is simply good judgment and careful observation applied under conditions that any intelligent person can duplicate and criticize—will cause us to make as great changes in regard to our common sense ideas about ourselves and about our neighbors as it has caused us to make about our world. I think it will do so, and that it is even now making over all our social science. And we need such knowledge badly. It is inevitable that the scientific spirit once it began reorganizing our knowledge about our earth should finally reach and reorganize our knowledge of ourselves. The time has already come when we can live effectively only when we see ourselves in the light of the knowledge which has done more than anything else to create for us this modern world in which we live. The Importance of Psychology. We need a scientific view of human nature and I wish to emphasise as strongly as possible what it means to us to have such a view. If we are to live decently we must adapt ourselves to an environment which is radically different from that of older generations; an environment which has become what it is because men have learned to apply to its control principles of cause and effect. To live in such a world we must learn new habits, new judgments about ourselves and about our neighbors; new ideas of the values of experience and the possibilities of human achieve- ment. We must learn to control human behavior. We must learn how to make ourselves effective. We can no longer live in this new environ- ment and use the rule of thumb methods of control which were possible in a pre-scientific age. Sociologically we must know if the various tendencies and social movements in which we are asked to participate are conducive to human happiness and effectiveness. We must know what human types these various movements are encouraging. We must know how many of our human traits can be modified by education and how many of them are hereditary and changeless so that we may spend our energies along the lines where advance is possible. We need some more accurate way of estimating the capacities of ourselves and other people 4 so that we can get the right man into the right place. We need very much such knowledge of human nature as will enable us best to educate the young. Moreover, a most valuable kind of knowledge for each of us would be that which would reveal us to ourselves; which would give us the inner hidden motive of our actions and our professions so that we should not be tricked by our unconscious emotions and impulses; so that our behavior and our thinking might be relevant to the situations in which we find ourselves; so that we should not waste our energies in ineffective gestures the function of which is often merely to bolster up our unconscious childish egoism. We so commonly deceive ourselves in these respects that it seems to me that if psychology should do nothing more than show us the true meaning of our own behavior, it might lead us to a richer and more beautiful common life. Psychology Is Not A “ Gospel.” I do not wish to promise too much in the name of psychology. Certainly there are very many questions which it cannot answer. It 1s not a gospel. And we should not look to it to give us magic formulae by which all the problems of life may be miraculously solved. But it is of very great importance that as many persons as possible try to take a scientific view of human nature and we may at least say that psy- chology may yet give us a method which with patience and labor may, in time, give us a degree of freedom and mastery over ourselves and over the forces of our environment such as men have never enjoyed. Certainly no one is nor can be free until he is free from within. The educational value of psychology is great. From the time of Socrates until now it has generally been recognized that the most important aim of knowledge is to “know thyself.” Education is not merely the accumulation of information. It is the achievement of new mental habits. Psychology ought to help us achieve such habits and to think differently about many things, and as we come to think differently we really become new beings. We shall see that psychology has many branches and covers a wide range of subjects. It has already amassed so much material that probably no one individual can master it all. Certainly, therefore, we cannot in a course like this, do more than get a general outline of this science. But we can gain an acquaintance with the significant literature on the subject. We can get a knowledge of psychological methods and of the problems which are most important. And we can learn what it means to think about our human behavior dispassionately and carefully, and without prejudice. Much that is called psychology today is mis-named.. It is neither psychology nor science. Perhaps no word is more abused. There are people going about the country organizing classes or advertising so-called “self-improvement” courses all in the name of psychology. Many of these self-styled psychologists are merely capitalizing public credulity and are taking advantage of what is often an honest desire to know something about psychology. Most of the stuff that is being popularized in the name of this science is about on the level of the old-fashioned fake patent medicines. The so-called information that is often sold is misinformation. Blatantly ignorant, extravagant in its claims, it is for the most part a clever and insincere scheme for getting money from the gullible. Students should be warned against the so-called “ psychology ” which is nothing but an attempt to justify with half understood phrases cheap 5 optimism or popular stiperstitions. You should be on your guard against any book, magazine or lecture, alleged to be psychological, the author of which wallows in sweet phrases or spells such words as “ Mind,” “ Con- scious,” “ Sub-Conscious,” “ Truth,” “ The Good,” and so on, with Capital Letters. Psychology has nothing to do with things like phrenology or spiritism or faith-healing or personal improvement by magic. There are no spooks in psychology. | Always, when a new science is being developed, many people seize upon an imitation of the real article to gain imagined support for all unscientific beliefs. The student should especially be warned against those who confuse psychology with metaphysics; against those who would treat what they call the sub-conscious as a sort of back stairs through which one may sneak up to supermundane and mysterious things. Beware also of those who speak of “ psychic phenomena ”’ as if psychology were occult and mysterious. And finally let us not confuse psychology with that cult of self-delusion in which half educated people think that if they can get in tune with the Infinite showers of blessings, of health, wealth, and social prestige will rain down on their heads. Human life, all life, for that matter, is, of course, a process which perhaps no science can fathom, and I have no wish to make the claim that we are able to find logical equivalents for the realities of life. But, so far as facts are reducible to a scientific system and can be seen in the light of cause and effect, we should make every effort to organize our knowledge in this way. However great mysteries may exist, there must be no mysteries in science. Things are not so just because of some senti- mental wish on our part that they be so. The difference between real psychology and the pseudo-science that is advertised in its name comes near to being a factor of intellectual honesty. Science is simply a careful study of facts together with their causes and laws. And this is as true of the science of human behavior, if it is going to be a science at all, as it is of any other science. To modern psychology the human being is a purely natural phenomenon. He has, for purposes of our study, at least, to be regarded as a living organism, different in degree but not in kind from animals. Psychology does not deal with some mysterious entity called “The Soul” or “ Mind” or “ Consciousness.” It is the science which deals with the ways in which the human animal reacts to the situations of its environment. Hence, psychology is as truly a natural science and aims to keep as strictly to the natural history point of view as do physiology and biology. The mind, the soul, the spirit, consciousness, are all very interesting subjects for metaphysical speculation. But as students of psychology, we are not primarily interested in them. We are not even interested in the problem as to how mind is related to the body. This may appear very strange and paradoxical to the beginner. He may say, “What then 1s psychology about, if it is not about these things?” I think he will find that there is quite enough for psychology to be about even without these old metaphysical interests. All these things are merely philosophical assumptions. We must remember that many ancient and medieval thinkers imagined that spirit and body were two distinct things and that it is largely through popular theological instruction that this old division has survived 6 in the minds of most of us. For purposes of psychological study it is not necessary to cut human nature up in this way. In fact, it is unwise; first, because those who do this give us a very artificial notion of mankind ; and having in thought separated body and spirit are never quite able to get them together again. This way of thinking always suggests to me the story of the Cheshire Cat in “Alice in Wonderland.” You will remember that the cat appears and grins at Alice and then vanishes, leaving the grin behind. Now, of course, if one wishes to view this matter logically, he may say that cat and grin stand for two different “ concepts” and that in order to keep these concepts “ pure” he must not confuse them. There- fore, in pure cat there can be no grin, and in pure grin there can be no cat. Then, having separated the cat and the grin this way, you may, if you choose, wonder how in the world two such beings ever got together. Of course, if you take the grinning cat as a single fact and simply regard grinning as one of the things which cats in wonderland might do, you might be puzzled at the cat grinning but you are not puzzled over the philosophical problem of reconciling mutually exclusive concepts. If the cat wants to leave the grin behind, let it do so. That is no reason why the philosopher should separate the two. Now, very much thinking about human nature in times past has been what I call cat-grin philosophy. Back of this, of course, is a philosophical trick of imaging that the body and its activities belong to two irreconcilable worlds. Again, when we study a human being we find that in studying his mental life we are always studying, in some way, his behavior. We shall find that we are really concerned about bodily movements and feelings and various responses to environment. We shall also be studying the problem as to how past experiences modify present behavior; and I think we shall see that all human experience comes down at least to some sort of behavior, either actual or potential. Some people will doubtless ask, “Isn't this a very materialistic point of view?” I do not think so. Materialism is a metaphysical theory and is, therefore, as far from our scientific interest as is spiritualism. So far as the psychologist is con- cerned the ultimate reality of the whole universe may be either spirit or matter. But our concern is to study human behavior, and when we have learned how it proceeds, we may if we choose leave psychology behind and study something else. At present all we need to do is see that human behavior is a fact and try to understand that fact as best we can. Perhaps I should say that we are concerned with human behavior and experience. Personally I can see no objection to adding experience, but experience is often thought of as something passive, mysterious, and subjective. Man is an active being, concerned about relating himself to his world. Perhaps in studying his activity we may be able to learn some- thing also about experience so far as the latter has scientific significance. I wish to make this point clear: Psychology is, or strives to be, a natural science. The facts which it studies are chiefly human (sometimes animal) actions or responses to the environment in which living organisms find themselves and these actions are real events in the natural world, as real as trees, and stones, and oysters. And in explaining these facts, we must stay within the order of nature. We should be on our guard against inventing mysterious and occult reasons why things happen. We must try just as men try in other sciences to show how one observed fact is | 7 related to another. That is, we must assume that human behavior or, if you will, mental phenomena, have causes, and that at least for purposes of our study, these causes should be regarded as the situations and actions which uniformly accompany or precede certain facts of behavior. This is all we mean by cause—that given a set of circumstances a certain change will uniformly follow if the conditions are the same. Is Psychology Yet a True Science? Now have we in psychology a science in this sense? It cannot be said that psychology began as a science. Until recent times psychology was a branch of philosophy. Many older philosophers wrote about psychology. They were chiefly concerned about such questions as, “What is the nature of the soul?”’ “What are its attributes?” ‘‘ How is it related to the body, and how does it come to possess knowledge?” Indeed, much of the difficulty that people now have in taking a scientific view of psychology dates back to the old philosophical habit of regarding the mind or soul as something distinct from the life process itself and concerned primarily with knowing. It was knowing, not behaving, that concerned the older psychologists and they thought of knowledge as something outside the process of nature. Thus Aristotle, who defined the soul as the form of a natural body endowed with the capacity for life, thought of the soul as realized in “perfect knowledge” or in the process of “ contemplation.” He then proceeded to discuss such subjects as sensation, thought, imagina- tion, reason, ideas, and images. St. Thomas, in the 13th century, writes of “ Rationality, the essential form in man.” John Locke, in the 17th century, gives us the famous essay concerning human understanding. Locke’s psychology is concerned primarily with the origin and nature of ideas. Hume, at the beginning of the 18th century, though he also dis- cussed emotions or “ the passions ”’ is like Locke, chiefly interested in the “human understanding.” The same may be said of Mill, and in fact of most British and German psychologists down to the time of Herbert Spencer. I should add that the early 19th century German psychologists, Weber and Fechner who should perhaps be given credit for the beginning of modern éxperimental psychology, were still occupied with knowledge when they sought to measure what they regarded as sensation units. At the time William James wrote the “ Principles of Psychology,” the great problem in this science was still perhaps the question whether the mind consisted of a knower who existed outside of and independent of his ideas, or was in some way the sum and substance of the ideas themselves. It was not until the latter part of the 19th century when biology and physiology had achieved definite methods of studying living organisms that psychology really broke away from philosophy and began to be in the true sense a natural science. When I say that psychology is now a natural science I mean that it aims at least to take a natural history point of view of human experience and behavior. Psychology proposes to study this side of human nature in the same spirit and with as few metaphysical assumptions as would be found in the sciences of physiology and anatomy in their study of the human body. In a word, it would go about its task in about the same hard headed way that science studies other natural objects. All this at first may seem to be unfair to this humanity of ours. It may be said that man is different; that there is something in human nature 8 which is not in ordinary objects. Perhaps so. But then let the mysteries stay in human nature. Let us keep them out of our science. While psychology tries to study human nature in the scientific spirit we should remember that it is a science still in the making, and has many problems yet to solve. It is important that we dwell on this point in order that we may see just how far psychology has succeeded at present in its scientific aim. What Characterizes a Science. What constitutes a science? I should say in general that a study must have achieved three things before we may properly call it a science. First, there must be some agreement as to its scope; that is, it must be pretty clearly understood what this particular study is about; what facts should be included in it and what should not. There must be a group of facts or data which are related in some way and which can fairly clearly be marked off for purposes of study; for instance, the science of anatomy studies the structure of the organism; the science of geology studies deposits in the crust of the earth. Second, there must be a generally accepted method of going about the study. This method must be adequate to the task of carefully observing the facts with which the study deals, and it must be a method that any trained student may employ. In other words, facts which are learned by hearsay, which are interpreted by rule of thumb, are not scientific facts. And if a man should claim that he got certain information through divine revelation we should perhaps be impertinent if we doubted his word, but we could not say that information so acquired was scientific information, inasmuch as other observers have not been privileged to get their information in this way. In the third place, the data which have been so marked off and have been studied by an acceptable method, are found to be related in certain ways. There will be discovered laws or principles which govern their inter-relations or changes. These principles are the laws of the science and it is the aim of each science to state its laws in terms that would apply universally to all situations of a certain kind. The more nearly these laws can be stated in quantitative or mathematical formulae, the more happy scientific students become. Now, when we turn to pyschology we shall, I think, see that in these three important matters there is much disagreement among the students of the science. It probably should be said further that all the biological and social sciences are in very much the same condition, including the science of medicine. The scope of psychology is hard to determine. Just where is the line to be drawn between psychology and physiology? We shall later see that these are two different sciences and yet physiologists very often psychologize and psychologists have the habit of physiologizing. There is a good deal of physiology in such psychological text-books as those of Woodworth, Watson, and James, and there are many sallies into the realm of psychology on the part of well known physiologists like Cannon, Pavlow and Loeb. Again, psychologists of different schools are frequently accusing one another of mysticism and metaphysics, and perhaps this is because the scope of psychology has not been clearly distinguished from that of philosophy. There are men who maintain that psychology is “the science of the mind” and who would include consciousness within 9 its scope, and there are others who maintain that it is a “science of behavior ” in a much more strict and limited sense than I have indicated as yet. These are only a few of the differences of opinion as to the scope of the science. The problem of method is also a mooted question on the part of psychologists. There are in fact two or three different methods. Until recently the so-called “introspective method” obtained, and much psychological experimentation was conducted by the use of this method. The student observed his own differences of sensation, his feelings, his ideas, and so forth. There has always been some difficulty with this method because obviously the material studied is so subjective that it is difficult to get men to agree as to the facts. I may find that my own experience gives me data which nobody else examining himself would find. It is, therefore, very difficult for scholars to check up one another’s work if psychology is limited to this method. Hence, efforts are made to render psychology more objective and some scientists go so far as to say that psychology can be scientific only in so far as its methods are purely objective. In other words, they do not admit that the introspective method is scientific at all. Dr. Watson has attempted to reduce psychology to an observation of the laws of mere stimulus and response. In other words, he would use in the study of human behavior, the same methods as are used in animal psychology. It is obvious that an animal cannot communicate in words his feelings and ideas even if he has them, and so in studying the behavior of animals psychologists could make headway only when they could control the animal in such a way that they could find a definite co-ordination between a certain stimulus which was given and the response which was made. In this way consciousness could be left out entirely. The application of this method to human psychology promises a great gain in exactness, even though it probably omits many things which are of psychological interest. A third method is that of psychopathology. This method was developed in the science of medicine and we have heard much about it in the general discussion of psycho- analysis. It deals primarily with abnormal behavior but it throws much light on normal reactions to situations. Finally, there 1s the problem of laws in psychology. In any science the laws are always open to revision as new facts are discovered and new relationships among these facts are noted. The science of psychology is so new that many of its so-called principles are open to revision and restatement and perhaps this will always be the case. Psychology deals with individuals, and if we could wholly succeed in reducing the behavior of an individual to formulae which would apply alike to all individuals it is obvious that we should thereby completely ignore that which is dis- tinctly personal in every one. It may be that psychology can go far in giving us laws and principles which apply in a general sort of way as explanations of human behavior but that the very nature of its subject matter is such that it can never be wholly reduced to quantitative formulae. There is really more agreement among psychologists than I have indicated in this discussion. I should say that there is fairly general agreement on three points. Nearly all who are scientific at all agree in holding an evolutionist view of mental life; that is, they believe that the 10 psychic nature of man—whatever you choose to call it—lies within the process of the development of animal organisms, and that great as are the mental differences between men and animals, there is, after all, no sudden break anywhere. There used to be much talk about the “ missing link ’”’ when the problem of evolution concerned chiefly biologists, but men forget that the “missing link” is supplied in the life history of every one of us, if we remember that our life began as a single cell, functioned as a single cell functions and that through the embryonic and infantile and later stages of development all the intervening forms of life and behavior have in a telescoped manner been gone through. Again, there is fairly general agreement that mental life is chiefly concerned with bodily activity. We shall see more of this in the next lecture. Third, there is fairly general agreement that the criterion of effective mentality, indeed perhaps the very criterion of truth itself, is to be found in the facts of adjustment to environment. There is much talk today about applied psychology and undoubtedly popular interest in this branch of the subject is greatest. Here psychology strives to understand and explain many things which have escaped general notice and to use our knowledge of human nature in order that we may predict and control the behavior of people in definite situations. There is a wide range of circumstances in which applied psychology is coming to be almost a commonplace. It is used for instance, in industrial matters in determining efficiency, in selecting personnel and in advertising. Again, psychology is applied to education with very interesting results and with a promise for the future which is very encouraging. Under the head of applied psychology we should include the intelligence tests used in the army during the war and now being used in colleges and many educational institutions as a part of entrance examinations. There has been much debate about these tests, which require a special technique, and have also some very definite sociological implications. We will reserve discussion of all these forms of applied psychology until later. A moment ago I mentioned psychoanalysis. This is a phase of Psychopathology, and we shall see that some of the most important con- tributions to modern thought are the results of the work of Freud and others in this field. I am inclined to think that psychopathology among other things is going to have a far-reaching effect upon ethics, religion, and many factors of the social problem. This leads me to say a word about social psychology a separate branch of the study to which this study is in fact an introduction. The literature on this subject now is rather extensive and it is interesting to note that it has all come within the last quarter of the century. Social psychology covers many fields of interest. It has much to say about po- litical science, about economics, criminology, the behavior of crowds, the forms of normal social adjustment, propaganda, public opinion; in fact, the whole range of the behavior of people toward their fellows. We may expect in the next few years a very rapid reorganization of most of our knowledge in this field as social psychology throws its light upon human relationships which were hitherto interpreted by tradition and dogma. Finally, I should perhaps add that while our science has now prac- tically come out from under the sovereignty of philosophy, it is having in turn a marked influence upon its former lord and master. And as we i] are all seeking a working philosophy of life which will help us better to relate ourselves to reality, this point is important. We shall have occasion as we go on to show how modern psychology is influencing our thinking about thinking and therefore about the meaning of truth and many of the basic values and ideals of life. The old intellectualist or rationalistic philosophy was itself largely the result of ignorance about psychology. That older philosophy is now passing away under the criticism of scientific psychology, and as it passes many sociological and other fictions about human nature also recede into the distance. Intellect is no longer seen to be a mere receiving instrument tuned in on an ethereal broad-casting station to pick up eternal truths; it is in a very real sense a creative thing. The meanings which it gives to life are not mere “ stereotyped copies of a de luxe edition”’ of realities and principles which exist in the unseen; they are real human achievements. In a sense psychology shows us that intellect and all its works are instruments by means of which man is coming to control the forces that play upon his life. With a better knowl- edge of human nature, it is our hope that he may yet learn how best to govern his own behavior; and to work toward a happier, more tolerant and better-ordered world. LECTURE II Psychology and Physiology—A Study of Reactions. PSYCHOLOGY AND PHYSIOLOGY: A Study of Reactions. F WE ARE to understand modern psychology we must stop thinking ] about mind as if it were some invisible thing, distinct from the body. I do not mean that we should think of mind, after the fashion of certain early materialists, as a product of the body, for a product also is a thing and we should not think of mind asa thing at all. Mental life ts a process. Perhaps at present we do not even need to use the words “ mental life.” All life is a process, and what we call mental life is part of that process. As Spencer said, “Life is the adjustment of inner to outer relations.” And James said that this is also a good statement of what mental life is. You cannot imagine an idea or a purpose or an act of human volition that is not in some way either directly or indirectly part of a process of adjustment of the living organism to its environment. We Are Concerned With Behavior. It is characteristic of organisms that they respond in certain ways to the situations about them. Very simple organisms respond in very simple ways and more complex organisms respond in ways that are more complex. Man, the most highly organized of all living things, seems at times to respond to objects in ways that can only be explained if we take the possibility of his fore knowledge of the results of his be- havior into account. This kind of behavior we call intelligent. While there is a marked difference between intelligent and purely automatic activity, yet we may say that in the study of intelligence, psychology is concerned with the responses that living things make to their environment. What is it that responds? We do not need to assume now some invisible spiritual being or other—worldly principle. | There may or may not be such a being hidden in the organism. That is a matter for the philosophers to talk about. Psychology is concerned with the be- havior of the organism. If you are interested in the structure of living beings, that is, if you study the body, your interest is in anatomy or biology. If you are interested in the action of these beings you are concerned with psychology. Perhaps it 1s too crude to say that mind is the way the body behaves. But, at any rate, such a statement would come nearer the truth than the assumption that the mind and the body are two separate beings or distinct streams of events. It would be incorrect to say in general that psychology is the science of the behavior of organisms. For physiology is also concerned only with certain kinds of behavior. The line between physiology and psychology is not always clear. Yet the two are separate sciences. They often deal with the same facts of bodily function, but they deal with them from very different stand- points. For instance, the function of breathing or of the beating of the heart are certainly bodily activities the study of which belongs to physi- ology. But the breathing and the activity of the heart may be greatly modified when a person or an animal is excited, and then it may be said that these bodily functions have something to do with psychology. Per- haps it would be best to say that physiology is concerned with bodily [15] 16 changes in so far as they are the functions of separate organs and that psychology is concerned with those changes when they have the function of relating the organism as a whole to its environment. Many people hold that psychology is concerned with these activities only when they are accompanied by consciousness. But psychologists are not agreed upon this point, and as there is much debate over the question whether consciousness makes any difference, we had better wait and discuss this point in a later lecture. Many scholars have blurred the distinction between these two sciences. But relatively speak- ing, the difference is well recognized. For instance, I sit at my desk writing this lecture. A physiologist would be interested in describing the contraction of the muscles in my arm and fingers; he might tell me how these movements are related to other bodily organs and their functions, as for instance, digestion, respiration, and so forth. Further- more, he might perhaps tell me that I could think more clearly if I sat up straighter. But he would not as a physiologist be concerned about the reason why I am writing this particular lecture and not some other, and he would not be a physiologist in the strict sense if he began to discuss the relation between my habit of giving lectures and my behavior as a whole or that of other people. These last are questions of psycholog- ical interest. The point which I wish to make clear is that psychology is cons cerned with behavior and that the behavior which has psychological inter- est grows out of and is, in a sense, continuous with those functions which we call physiological. Water at a certain temperature begins to boil. We may regard the boiling as a way in which water sometimes acts, and we may ask ourselves under what conditions does it boil? Of course, we do not talk about the “psychology” of the water, but neither do we think of boiling as a mysterious and invisible thing which comes along and miraculously attaches itself to the water. All we need to say is that boiling is a process, a kind of activity of water under cer- tain conditions. So psychologists might say that what we call mental life is a kind of activity which characterizes the life process of certain living organisms. William James, in the “ Principles of Psychology,” says, “On the whole, few recent formulas have done more real service of a rough sort in psychology than the Spencerian one that the essence of mental life and bodily life are one, namely, ‘the adjustment of inner to outer relations.’ Such a formula is vagueness incarnate; but because it takes into account the fact that minds inhabit environments which act on them and on which they in turn react; because, in short, it takes mind in the midst of all its concrete relations, it is immensely more fertile than the old- fashioned ‘rational psychology,’ which treated the soul as a detached existent, sufficient unto itself, and assumed to consider only its nature and properties. I shall therefore feel free to make any sallies into zoology or into pure nerve-physiology which may seem instructive for our purposes, but otherwise shall leave those sciences to the physiologists,” 17 He elsewhere tells us that the stream of stimulation which runs in at our eyes and ears and other sense organs must, if complete, run out again in various bodily movements. This way of putting the case might lead one to think that there are two streams, one which comes through our eyes and ears and so forth, and another which consists of our ordinary bodily functions. We shall see later that nothing enters in at our eyes, ears, etc., except our Own nerve currents, certain changes within nerve- tissues when the nerve ends are irritated by objects to which they are sensitive. There is no reason for assuming that these nerve currents, whatever they consist of, are not part of our whole life process; so we do not need to assume two streams of activity. It is important to note that James here insists that what we call mental life begins and ends in bodily sensitiveness and movements. We think in order to act, or better still, thinking is a part of acting. The Behavior of the Single Living Cell. Now let us try to get a picture of the kind of organic behavior in which psychology is interested, and let us see if we are correct in assum- ing it to be a purely natural phenomenon. Let us begin by asking what the simplest living thing does, and let us see if there is any real con- tinuity between such behavior and that of highly evolved beings like ourselves. If we find that all behavior is made up of the same elements we shall have discovered a very important fact about human nature. Some writers in describing the facts which we are about to discuss. would say that they were giving “the physical basis of mental life.” I think this is a misleading way of putting it. For we have already said that the physical and the mental are but two views of the behavior of living organisms. Since the life process of every living thing begins with a single cell, let us imagaine that we are looking through a micro- scope at a living being which consists of just one cell or tiny globule of living matter. There are millions of these little beings all about us. Let us suppose that we are looking at a protozoan, say an amoeba. We should see that this cell consisted of a nucleus and a surrounding layer of living tissue or protoplasm. The very fact that this cell is alive means that it is doing something. Within it very complicated changes are going on: nutrition, decomposition, growth. If the cell were watched long enough under the right conditions it might be seen to divide into two cells each of which would be just like the original one. This is the manner in which the amoeba reproduces itself. Moreover, we should see that this little creature can move about. It first pushes out a tiny extension of soft tissue, and then draws the bulk of its body into the extended portion. In this way we might say that it flows along, but its flowing is not like the flowing of a drop of water which moves in the line of motion determined merely by the force of gravity. The amoeba can move up hill or in any direction as it is stimulated. Other so-called unicellular organisms move by different methods, some having one or more long spines, or hair-like threads, attached to the cell-body by means of which movement is achieved. The sperm cells of animals move in this way. If the amoeba is irritated by a pointed instrument it will contract. If it is in the presence of nourishment it may expand and fold itself about the particle of food and thus absorb it. Some one-celled beings are par- 18 ticularly sensitive to light; others to certain chemical substances or elec- trical currents. Professor Jacques Loeb calls these latter movements “tropisms.” He says that they are caused by the fact that the living substance has a peculiar chemical constitution which is attracted or repelled by chemical activity in much the same way as chlorophyl, the substance in the green leaves of plants, causes their leaves to respond in certain ways to light. Loeb believed that these original movements of living beings or tropisms are purely mechanical in their origin and nature, and are so determined by the conditions that it might be possible to describe all the movements of all living beings in terms of the same kind of mathe- matical formula that a physicist might use to describe the Jaws of gravity. Thus he thought that in psychology we are merely dealing with these original “ tropisms.” We are greatly indebted to Professor Loeb for our knowledge of tropisms, but whether they explain as much as he seemed to think they do is a matter which has not yet been proved to everybody’s satisfaction. Now let us notice what we have said about the behavior of the living cell. It does many things, In fact, in a rudimentary fashion, it does all that any higher animal can do. It performs functions of nutrition, reaction to irriating stimuli, reproduction, and movement in space. Why it should do all these things is a problem which we cannot now solve. Perhaps we never can; for we are asking why life exists at all. Even if we should say that these functions are the result of physical and chemical causes, acting in a strictly mechanical way, we would then only be saying that in the simplest cases, and under certain laboratory conditions, it is possible to predict with mathematical accuracy what movements will occur. Whether we have then said all there is to say about such movements; and whether the activities of more complex beings, even assuming that they are made up of these more simple functions, add anything when such simple movements are combined in new ways,—these are questions which a chemical and mechanical interpretation of life would necessarily leave unanswered for us. Many students think that the simple elements of what in more complex organisms become the varied forms of animal behavior (including con- sciousness) are properties of matter itself. Perhaps it is a poetical view of things to suggest, as Lloyd Morgan did, that all matter contains a sub-psychic quality. But a botanist of some reputation has recently written two popular articles; one on the mind of plants, and another on the mind of the molecule. Our problem is difficult enough without trying to psychoanalyze molecules. So let us be content to say that the elementary forms of behavior are to be found in all living beings and that in the more highly organized ones these elementary movements are combined in very complex ways so that results are achieved which, of course, are unthinkable when we contemplate only the simple forms of life. Now let us see how the same elements of behavior constitute the activity of the higher forms of life. A moment ago I spoke of the fact that the amoeba reproduces itself simply by dividing into two cells. This process of cell division is a very important fact. It is a form of behavior which creates what a little while ago we saw certain writers are wont to call “the physical basis of mental life.’ If we are willing to speak of mental life as behavior, it is quite possible then to reverse the logic of the 19 phrase quoted above and to speak of the psychical basis of the physical structure, inasmuch as every living body is the result of a process of growth and this process of growth is a way in which the cells which con- stitute the body behave. When amoeba divide, two new cells are created which live for a time an independent existence. If we consider living things which are a little higher in the scale of complexity, we find that this process of spontaneous cell division seems to run down, in time, and that after a certain number of divisions, no new cells are produced. The process has to be started up again by the union of these independent cells with other cells of the same species. Very early in the evolution of life two kinds of cell-producing organisms appear, each carrying its own modification of the germ plasm of the species: the ova or female cells and the sperm or male, cells. Each of these types of cells may go on dividing just like the amoeba during the life of the organism which bears them, but they will produce a new organism only when the ovum is united with the sperm cell. This is true of both plants and animals and is, if you stop to think about it and study all the facts, a very complicated form of behavior. A higher organism is created by the process of cell-division similar to that which we saw in the amoeba. The impregnated ovum in producing the new animal embryo at once begins to divide. As it does so the cells divide in two ways: one process of cell- division goes on reproducing the parent-cell, and these cells, which are similar to the original one, become the germplasm, the function of which is, in mature life, to unite with the germ cell of the opposite sex and reproduce the species. The other process of cell-division creates different kinds of cells and arranges them in four layers which combine to produce the embryo. Thus in the embryo a structure is gradually built up as the cells divide. But the cells which are combined to make up the animal body no longer perform all the life-functions as do the cells of the original protozoa ; certain cells go to make up the motor organs of the body, others the digestive organs, the nervous system, and so forth. The function of conducting to the motor tissue (muscles and glands) the stimuli or irritations that play upon the organism and of responding to these stimuli is performed by the nerve-cells. These nerve-cells are called neurones. A neurone is a living cell with a nucleus and its surrounding proto- plasm, very much like an amoeba, only in the neurone the surrounding tissue is greatly modified as to shape. It is, as it were, divided into long branching threads. Perhaps we can get a picture of the nerve-cell of a higher organism if we imagine it as a microscopic tree. The nucleus is in the trunk; the roots are few in number (often only one) which extend like a tap-root to a very great length, sometimes several feet. This ex- tension or tap-root is called the “axone” and its function is to conduct a stimulus away from the central body or the trunk. On the other side of the trunk there is a number of branches which resemble the limbs and the twigs of a tree. These bush fibres are called dendrites, and their function is to conduct stimuli toward the central body or trunk. The neurones with their axones and dendrites are very numerous. There are millions of them in the human body and they are arranged into a system of 20 intricate connections called the nervous system. The ends of the axones and dendrites are like brushes, and they fit into the structure of a sense organ or “ receptor” in the skin, muscle, eyes, ears, and so forth, or the brush on the end of an axone will fit to the brush on the end of the dendrite of some other nerve-cell and thus form a connection between two cells. The point where these brush ends of different neurones meet is called a synapse. And it is through these synapses that nerve currents pass. When a current of stimulation passing in through the dendrite to a cell body, out along an axone goes through the synapse to the dendrites of some connecting nerve-cell and thence through its cell body, and out along one of its axone to a muscle fibre, causing that fibre to contract, we call that connection between the sense organ and the muscle fibre a reflex arc. Note that this is the same phenomenon of behavior, only much more complex, that we saw in the amoeba as it contracted when irritated by a sharp instrument. This reflex arc is important because it is that which connects the stimulus with the organ of response and is the elemental fact of our whole psychic life or behavior. ‘This is the basis of all our reactions, and in a very real sense our whole mental life may be said to consist of reactions to stimuli . . . We will take up this matter a little later. Let us return for a moment to the nervous system. The Nervous System. It is impossible for us in this course to enter into a detailed discussion of the anatomy of the nervous system in man. Various text books in psychology give some space to this subject. Those who are interested { advise to consult James’ “ Principles of Psychology,” Chapter IT; Woodworth’s “ Psychology,’ Chapter II; Watson’s ‘“ Behaviorism, Lectures-in-Print; Chapters Ili and (IV.\ Here I> merely avin to call attention to the fact that while in many lower forms of life the nervous system consists merely of ganglia, or clusters of nerve- cells, more or less loosely connected; in vertebrates, especially in men, the neurones with their axones and dendrites are arranged in a definite formation which, while it shows various stages of evolution from fishes to man, attains a high degree structural organization. As Herbert Spencer would say, “ with this structural complexity there goes a similar functional complexity.” Many writers have compared the human nervous system to a tele- phone system, with the exchange in the higher co-ordinating centers, notably the brain, and with myriads of nerve fibres running in and out, most of them through the great cable or spinal cord. So complex are the connections here that almost any stimulus can be connected with any motor organ and at various levels. There are simple reflex arcs organized in the lower centers of the spinal cord, and there are higher organizations of reflexes, which not only may bring the entire organism into action but may bring the action itself into definite relation with past experience and with foreseen future results. For our present purpose let us look at man’s nervous organization as made up of two systems, the cerebro-spinal system and the sympathetic system. We cannot dwell at length upon the anatomical structure or arrangement of these two systems, assuming that all those who have had an elementary school course in anatomy will be able to remember the facts | in general. We are chiefly concerned with their functions and these I shall state briefly. The statement must necessarily be rather crude; but it will, I trust, make clear the important aspects of the subject. The cerebro-spinal system consists of the brain, spinal cord, and nerve dendrites and axones which lead out to sense organs and to the various muscles and to the synapses which govern the glandular secretions and the action of certain “ unstriped ’’ muscles, of which we will speak later. The function of this nervous system is primarily to enable the organism to make such movements as will relate it to its environment. It thus serves to con- nect the stimuli which are picked up by the sense organs with the organs which produce appropriate movements. It is thus essentially a mechanism of motor significance. The brain and spinal cord consist of white tissue and gray matter. The white tissue is made up of dendrites and axone fibres which conduct impulses toward or away from the nuclei of nerve cells. The gray matter consists probably of the nuclei and of the synapses to which I have re- ferred. In the spinal cord a cross section would show that the white or connecting fibres are on the outside and the gray matter is at the center, arranged somewhat in the shape of a St. Andrew’s cross. In the brain, notably the cerebrum, the highest co-ordination organ- ization, the white fibre is underneath and the gray matter is on the “ con- voluted”’ or deeply folded surface. This gray surface is called the cerebral cortex. Psychologists say that this is where the various sensory currents are associated with the appropriate motor nerves although it must be remembered that many reflex arcs are organized in the spinal cord or the lower centers of the brain. It would seem that the higher centers are brought into the various reflex arcs in order to relate the organism as a whole to the, objects about it and that the lower centers produce what would be called specific responses or single movements which are organ- ized rather automatically. Experiments on animals would show that a frog, for instance, whose cerebral hemisphere had been disconnected, would appear somewhat weakened in its response, would lack the initiative which an ordinary frog would show in getting itself out of difficulties. But, otherwise, to the casual observer, it would appear very much like a normal frog. If some of the lower brain centers are also removed the frog no longer responds to stimuli such as the presence of food, and its movements are jerky and appear to be mechanical or forced. The frog can still swallow and croak and turn over, and its circulation and respiration are appar- ently not greatly impaired. If all the brain is removed and nothing is left but the spinal cord, respiration ceases and the frog will not move about. It lies rather flat. But it will still respond to tactile stimuli, the limbs even moving more quickly than in a normal animal. Thus, we see, that if we begin with the lower centers, the simplest reflex arcs would produce mere jerky movements and that the higher centers, when con- nected into these arcs, would have the function of enabling the animal to act as a whole. The sympathetic system consists of certain ganglia or groups of nerves, scattered in the vital organs of the body and are thus outside the 22 cerebro-spinal system. These nerves do not connect with any sense organs, but receive their stimulus through synapses which connect them with the nerves running from the cerebro-spinal system. The sym- pathetic nervous system is said to control the contraction and relaxation of the “unstriped”’ muscle tissue, notably that of the muscles in the arteries and heart, the alimentary canal, sex organs, sweat glands, and so forth. They also stimulate the secretions of the various glands which are located in the body, and these secretions, when they are poured into the blood stream, produce effects which we shall see later have something to do with the emotions. Much has recently been said about the func- tions of the autonomic or sympathetic system, and particularly about the influence upon personality of the scretion of the ductless or endocrine glands. For instance, the thyroid. We cannot pause here to enter upon a discussion of this very important matter. When we come to the con- sideration of the emotions we shall have more to say about it. The student who is interested in it is advised to read Chapter 14 of Professor Cannon’s book, “ Bodily Changes, in Pain and Hunger, Rage and Fear.” Reflex Action. I wish now to say something about the reflex or nervous current which passes through this complicated structure, producing movements which are appropriate to certain stimuli. Of course, this is a very won- derful phenomenon if you pause to think about it, but so is all nature wonderful. It is wonderful that evolution should ever have developed an organism wherein an irritation to one part of the body can be so connected with a distant organ in another part of the body that move- ments will take place which will bring the entire organism into such relations with the objects about it that it may use these objects for its own welfare. It is even more wonderful that at certain times the organ- ism may become aware of what is happening and that this awareness may further aid it in adapting itself to situations that do not yet exist, but the causal connections to which it can foresee. Perhaps this wonderful fact is part of the whole mystery of nature which we all must feel if we let ourselves stop and marvel. I am very sympathetic to this attitude of wonder, but if we are going to be scientific, we must shake ourselves and try to see if there are any relations among these marvels which we can understand. I think there are. Much has been said by psychologists about reflex actions. Perhaps the simplest reflex is seen in the one-celled amoeba. But Woodworth shows that relatively few simple reflexes occur in humans. The winking of the eye, when anything touches the eye-ball is a good example. Such reflexes take place in about five one-hundredths of a second. The narrow- ing of the pupils of the eyes in a strong light, the knee jerk when the tendon just below the knee joint is struck, are other examples, and there are others not quite so simple, such as coughing, sneezing, etc., and the apparently spontaneous jerking of the muscles when the body is irritated in certain ways. We have already seen that the connection between the sense organ and the muscle fibre is called the reflex arc. ‘This arc: consists of the linking of certain neurons so that there is an incoming, or afferent current, an association of centers consisting of one or more synapses, and an efferent current which conducts the motor impulse to 23 the muscle fibre of some organ of movement. Behavior in the simplest terms consists of the contraction and relaxation of muscle fibres, though, of course, we should not arrive at a satisfactory account of behavior if we were merely to describe these muscular movements. We should have to know to what situations they were responding, whether the response was effective in dealing with the situation, how it was modified by past experience, and finally, by what methods it could be controlled or improved. When we look at the bodily movements of an organism we can see that they are, in the main, of two kinds: random movements which do not bring the organism into any effective relations with outside things, and co-ordinated movements in which the organism stimulated, does something toward the object which stimulates it. Dr. W. H. R. Rivers, the English psychologist, saw in these two kinds of reaction the basis of a much wider distinction. This writer, in co-operation with Dr. Head, performed an interesting experiment. The nerves in Dr. Head’s arm were cut in such a way that no stimulus was received. During the slow process of healing, the time came when there was a response of a certain sort. Dr. Head’s hand was irritated, but he could not tell just where the irritation occurred. There was a general feeling of discomfort and a general and unadaptive movement. Briefly we may say that this sort of response to stimulus he called the protopathic. He maintained that in the process of evolution this was the earliest form of behavior and inas- much as emotion and some instinctive activity seem to retain this kind of response, he held that it 1s a basic factor even among higher organisms, though it is now, for the most part, repressed; that is, it goes on more or less unconsciously under normal conditions and often exists only in an incipient manner. The protopathic response is characterized by two facts. First, it is usually on the all-or-none principle. That is, proto- pathic action, if’ set going at all, generally stimulates the motor organs to their full capacity, thus such action is not graded to the amount of the stimulus. Most emotional and instinctive behavior show this all-or- none tendency. Second, protopathic response is largely what Dr. Rivers calls “mass reaction.’ One sees an excellent example of this in the tendency of a worm to “squirm” with its whole body when irritated. These movements are random movements. ‘That is, they are outlets of energy, but they do not adapt the organism to anything. Dr. Rivers found that in the war when soldiers received certain injuries in the cerebro-spinal system they made movements of this sort. In fact, we are all familiar with such movements in persons who are suffering great excitement or severe pain. Much emotional activity is of this type and is protopathic. The complete healing of the severed nerves in the Rivers-Head ex- periment restored normal response, and when this normal response came back, the protopathic form of response disappeared; that is, it was re- pressed because there was super-imposed upon it a more adequate kind of behavior which we may call the specific response. The specific re- sponse is movement which is directly adapted to a situation. Dr. Rivers calls this kind of response the “ epicritic.” This latter kind of reaction does not, under normal conditions of life, consist of one specific reflex, but as Watson has shown, random 24 movements become through various processes of learning in early child- hood, and later, co-ordinated into movements that are of use to the or- ganism. This co-ordination of reflex actions has been given the name of “conditioned reflexes.’ We shall find that much is said about con- ditioned reflexes. The best known experiments with this phenomenon were conducted by the Russian physiologist, Pawlov. Pawlov’s dogs are famous in psychology. His experiment, in substance, is as follows: A hungry dog is shown food and the sight of this food stimulates the flow of saliva. When the food is shown the dog, a bell is rung, and after repeating this for a long time, Pawlov found that the dog’s saliva glands will be stimulated into activity if the bell is rung even when there is no food visible. Thus, by association, a reflex which is set going by a stimulus is now connected with something that normally would not have produced the reflex action at all. This transfer of stimuli is what is meant by the conditioned reflex, and Watson and others have shown that a similar conditioning of reflexes can be set up in human beings. As I said, the working of the nervous system has often been likened to that of a complicated telephone exchange. While this is in some ways a good likeness, in other respects it rather fails. We do not know how a message from a sense organ is translated into the appropriate bodily move- ment. Probably the conditioned reflex explains how this occurs. But even this can not wholly explain it, because the synapses between the neurones are not equally receptive at all times to nerve currents. When they are carrying one impulse they seem to be closed to any other. Some psychologists think that a selective process is going on in the organism. Again, there often seems to be more response than is indicated by the stimulus. For instance, if you pay very close attention to what you really see and hear, you will notice that you do not see and hear as much as you think you do or as much as you act upon. A few rumbling sounds indicate the approach of an automobile or a street car and you act upon the stimulus far in excess of what you hear, you construct at once the street car or automobile as a whole. In fact, you have inferred from your past experience most of what you thought you heard. Much less was given than you probably realize. Whether consciousness is necessary to explain human behavior or whether, if we take it into account, we have an adequate explanation; whether behavior can be explained mechanically; whether an individual really has alternative modes of response to certain situations; or whether, given the same physical conditions, one must always behave in the same way; all these are problems which are not settled and we shall see later how important the difference of opinion concerning these questions is. Now we are concerned about the relation of the physiological to the psychological. For our purposes we must not think that these two sciences are occupied with two separate and distinct kinds of existence, the organism. And whether we think of its functioning as the physiologists do or as the psychologists do, we are bound to see that we are merely taking two views of the activity of the same being. But scientifically regarded, the organism is one. However we may think of mental life, we should recognize the fact that it cannot be separated from physical processes. William James says in “ Principles of Psychology ” that “no 25 mental modification ever occurs that is not accompanied or followed by a bodily change.” He also points to the effects, on what we call mental life, of fever, exhaustion, hypnotism, old age, and the like. There is some discussion as to what it is that passes over the nerve tissue when it is stimulated. In other words, what does a nerve current consist of? It is generally said that some sort of chemical change occurs, but we do not know just what this change is. It may be that the chemical change, or whatever it may be, is enough to account for behavior. On the other hand, it may be that the change is not identical with the current itself but is the result of the current’s having passed through the nerve fibres. Undoubtedly some sort of force or energy is liberated, but we should be careful about the use of the term energy in connection with mental life. In the first place, no energy really enters the body through the sense organs. You can see that this is so. Light waves striking upon the eyes do not enter into the brain, nor does the impact of objects striking upon the surface of the body do not continue as a shock or a jar in the stimulus which is carried over the nerves. What we always get is a stimulus ; in other words, the object which excites us simply irritates us to activity which is our own. When we look at things we are not carrying pictures or images of them into our brain; the pictures or images which we see are the result of the activity of our eyes and our optic nerves. Again, the idea of energy has value for science only because it enables the scientist to describe the changes in position of particles of matter in mathematical or quantitative terms. Aside from this lending itself to mathematical description, the word energy has little or no meaning. What the mysterious force is in itself we do not know. Bergson seems to argue that there is a definite sort of “mind energy ” which he appar- ently distinguishes from bodily energy. But this is really a poetic way of talking about the mind, and is, I think, an unfortunate way, because it leads people to believe that thoughts are a kind of force or energy. They are not. They are not properly describable in terms of energy at all. Professor Loeb and others hold the view that mental life can be explained in strictly mechanical terms. They do not maintain that they can explain it now, but they have the theory that we could explain it this way if we only knew enough about it. This is the mechanistic theory, and I do not think that we should prejudice the case by assuming any such theory in advance of fuller knowledge. Moreover, as McDougall warns us, we should beware of interpreting human conduct in such a way as to make it appear that it is determined wholly by the mechanics of the brain. We know very little about the mechanics of the brain, and there may be much human behavior which is not explicable in terms of brain activity. There may be differences of character and habit which are very great, and yet the mechanical difference in brain activity may be very small. In other words, while as I have tried to show, body and mind really correspond to two views of the activity of the same organism, yet, in a very real sense, mental life and strictly bodily function may be incommensurable. Let me illustrate what I mean, for I am not here suggesting anything mystical or occult. An automobile is passing along the street at a certain speed and it cannot be denied that the movement of the automobile is determined 26 mechanically. It is possible to give a complete account of how the auto- mobile moves, and do it in strictly mechanical terms. There is a quanti- tative relation between the explosive force of the gasoline, the pressure in the cylinders, the size and speed of rotation of the wheels, the weight of the car, and the loss of motion due to friction, etc. All this may be calculated very nicely and correctly. But such calculation does not explain why the automobile is going in one direction and not in another, nor does it tell us why the car is pass- ing at this particular time. In other words, how the passing of the car is related to larger combinations of moving objects. The passing car may be carrying a physician who has been called in some emergency; it may be carrying a bride on the way to her wedding, or a band of boot- leggers or a party of police; or a diplomat rushing to a meeting of great international importance. Now, in any of these diverse activities the automobile may be playing a very necessary and important part; so much so that if it should break down the behavior of certain people would al- ways thereafter be different. So in explaining the fact that the car is passing we must not only give the principal that causes movement in general, but we must relate this movement to the pattern of some larger situation in which it plays a part. The same thing is true with human behavior. In truth, our mental life can be reduced to the simple elements of bodily movement, and we do not need to invent any mystery other than that which exists in the move- ments of all objects to explain these movements. You may say that they are mechanically caused. But, just as in explaining the movement of the car, if we want an adequate understanding of what a person is doing at any time we must also see his activity in relation to some situation in which it occurs. Psychology is concerned with the integration of human movements in situations. It studies human activity in the light of the connections and inter-relations of one act with another, for our actions fall into various series and patterns, and you might say, causal systems. To explain an act adequately we must explain it in the light of the situation as a whole; or, in other words, we must show its causal re- lations not merely to bodily movements but to other facts of behavior. If we ignore the situations as a whole we leave unexplained everything except the mere fact that activity is going on. Psychology must find the significance of human action not in purely physiological causes but in the inter-relations of the facts of behavior themselves. We can not ignore that action which is the result of some past experience or the action which is directed toward some end. So the situation as a whole to which one is at a given time responding may involve future events as well as past ones. Probably psychology is the only science which has to deal with causes of this nature. LECTURE Il Psychology and Philosophy—The Place of William James. “th bi? rang PSYCHOLOGY AND PHILOSOPHY The Place of William James. ol ee significance of William James’ work in psychology is so great that it is impossible for any one to gain an insight into what psychology is about unless he has for at least once in his life seen this subject from William James’ point of view. Psychology was not an isolated thing to James. I mean to say that the student in sharing James’ point of view not only gains a new insight into the subject matter of psychology, but he gains something more valuable: a different point of view in his thinking about most of the problems of our life. There are some writers whom to know is to live through an experience which leaves one always thereafter different. These are the great writers, and James was a great writer and scholar. Woodworth says of him, “ Perhaps no one has better expressed in his writings the full scope and tendency of modern psychology than the late William James . . . Coming into psychology from the physio- logical laboratory, he retained the physiological point of view, was entirely hospitable to the new experimental psychology and very early conducted experiments of his own . . . All in all, he was evidently a good internationalist in his science as indeed every good psychologist must be. Better than any other book his great book on the Principles of Psychology can be taken as at once a summing up of the older psychology and an introduction to the modern point of view.” Many of the questions that James dealt with are still so controversial that we shall find ourselves referring to him again and again as we discuss the various problems of this science. In fact, James’ work is still the classic text on the subject, and it is therefore highly important that we see just what it is that he did for our science. In a sense, we shall have to take a very broad view of James. He was not only a psychologist but he was also a philosopher, and a great one. At one time he was more quoted and referred to than any other American thinker, and he is probably the most distinctively modern philosopher that America has produced. In the first lecture, I said that psychology, having emancipated itself from the older philosophy, is in turn having a very great effect upon its former lord and master. In fact, there has occurred in our own time the profoundest revolution in philosophical thinking since Plato. I sug- gested something of the nature of this change at the close of the first lecture when I said that mind is no longer regarded as a passive thing, receiving impressions and copying eternal principles, but that mind is a creative thing, the primary function of which is to relate the human organism to the environment. As Professor Dewey says, we owe much of this reconstruction in philosophy to the newer psychology. In other words, we owe very much of it indeed to William James, who not only did much to work out the principles of this newer psychology but has done more than anyone else to show their application to and their far- [29] 30 reaching changes in the whole body of human thought. For thirty years James was the outstanding figure in philosophy and psychology in this country. Together with such men as Dewey, Angell, More, Meade, and Schiller, he succeeded in making a radically reconstructive method of thinking the point of view of very large numbers of educated people. Early Influences, Liberal. James was born in 1842 in New York City, and was brought up as a boy in the house at Number 2 Washington Place. There are two inter- esting facts about his early environment which later influenced his mental development. In the first place, his father was a man of books, who combined the career of a literary man with that of a philosopher; one who shared to the full the intellectual movements current in his day; and was the friend of such men as Emerson and Thackeray. It was in this environment that James spent his boyhood years. The intellectual life was not an extraneous thing to him but was almost identical with the adventure of living itself. It is this spirit of adventure which we always meet in James. Thinking was never for him the dead and formal thing that it is for most people. Secondly, James’ father was a pronounced religious liberal. In his early years he had been a theological student at Princeton University, but, sharing the intellectual revolt of the early 19th century yet retaining his religious interests, Henry James, Senior, held the most unconventional views about religion and life. A story is told of him which illustrates the type of man he was. Shortly before his death his daughter was compelled to speak to him about what he would like to have done at his funeral. He was very much interested, apparently not having thought of it before. He reflected for some time, and then said with the greatest solemnity, “Tell him to say this: ‘ Here lies a man who has thought all his life that the ceremonies attending birth, marriage, and death were all damned nonsense.’ Don’t let him say a word more.” Something of this spirit of independence, of this dislike of the formal and the conventional, we see in the work of William James. Perhaps there is a real inheritance of temperament. At any rate, James was the most intensely human of our classic thinkers. As he used to say, his aim was to get away from pedantry and dusty-mindedness. : As a young man, James studied medicine in Europe and came in con- tact with the great minds of his time. When he returned to Harvard University to teach psychology, he came with a new point of view, com- bining as he did the background of the knowledge of medicine with the spirit of the German laboratory of experimental psychology. It is often said that James gives us a psychology without the soul. The critics of the modern psychological movement have their little joke about the science. They say that psychology first lost its Soul; then it lost its Mind; finally, it lost its Consciousness. This is only a way of saying that as psychology becomes more and more a true science, it necessarily must reject those metaphysical assumptions which it had in- herited from the older philosophers, and take its stand squarely upon the facts of human experience. James did much to drive metaphysics out of psychology. Briefly we may say that metaphysics is the speculation about the “ultimate nature” 31 of reality, or that which lies behind the things we see and touch and deal with. For instance, metaphysics is concerned with “ Substance.” The English philosopher, Berkely, long ago showed that “substance” is only a word by which we mean that a certain number of qualities or characteristics are found together in a body. Substance as an unseen, mysterious thing we do not any longer believe in. Now, as many older thinkers believed in a mysterious material substance which lay behind the facts which we can experience, so they also believed in a mysterious spiritual substance, Soul or Mind, which likewise lay behind the facts of mental life and gave them unity. It was felt that this mysterious Soul had certain faculties such as memory, imagination, reason, and that these faculties somehow took hold of the sensations which we receive from the outside world and worked them up into an order of some sort. This belief survives to some extent even now in popular psychology, but since James it is no longer held to be scientific. Psychology Before James. Before James the great subject of debate among psychologists was the question of spiritualism versus associationism, which we will now dis- cuss in turn. By spiritualism I do not mean a belief in spirits and seances and mediums, but rather the older philosophical doctrine which I have just spoken about, the doctrine of the Soul with its faculties. Of this view James says, “ Why should this absolute God-given faculty, say memory, retain so much better the events of yesterday than those of last year and—why should illness and exhaustion enfeeble it; why should drugs, fevers, asphyxia and excitement resuscitate things long since for- gotten. If we content ourselves merely with affirming that the faculty of memory is so peculiarly constituted by nature as to exhibit just these oddities, we seem little better for having invoked it, for our explanation becomes as complicated as the facts with which we started. Evidently, then, the faculty does not exist absolutely, but works under conditions— something must always precede and remind it of whatever we are to recollect.” ‘In fact,” says James, “we must become cerebralists and know the general law that no mental modification ever occurs which is not accompanied or followed by a bodily change.’ “The bare ex- istence of a past fact is no ground for our remembering it. Unless we have sensed it, or somehow undergone it, we shall never know of its having been. Experiences of the body are thus one of the conditions of the faculty of memory being what it is.” James here singles out memory merely for the purpose of discussion. The same would hold of any other “ faculty ” of this metaphysical soul. In a word, James’ psychology explains mental phenomena without having resort to anything of this sort. The second psychological theory which existed before James was called Associationism. This school of thought which, among British thinkers, derived chiefly from Locke and Hume, holds that the mind is a sort of product or a compound made up of small bits of experience. There is no soul or “ knower” back of the sensations and ideas that one has, but rather the sensations which come to us as very small bits of knowledge are supposed to sum themselves up into ideas. And the ideas finally sum themselves up into a sense of self or ego. James raises the ques- tion—" this multitude of ideas, existing absolutely, yet clinging together and 32 weaving an endless carpet of themselves like dominos in ceaseless change or bits of glass in a kaleidoscope, whence do they get their fantastic laws of clinging, and why do they cling in just the shapes they do?’ For this the associationist must introduce the order of experience in the outer world. The dance of ideas is a copy, somewhat mutilated and altered, of the order of phenomena. James elsewhere showed that this entire view of the mind is erroneous, and that mind is not a passive container of ideas, but an active thing; that ideas have no way of compounding them- selves or summing themselves up; that there is absolutely nothing in one idea that would cause it to associate itself with any other; that the as- sociations which we make among things we make chiefly because of our human interest. Thus the old issue which had, for many years, divided psychologists, is, with James, done away and a more fruitful set of problems is pre- sented. James showed that there are no permanently existing ideas and no impersonal ideas. This is a very important point, because people constantly have the notion that ideas are invisible things which can pass from one head to another; that an idea is something you can “ get;” that ideas exist in books or can be handed down by tradition, and so forth. This is a superstitious view. For if you use the synonym for ideas, the word thought, you will see at once that thought is the past participle of the verb to think, and thinking is an activity of some sort. It exists only where the activity exists,—in our nervous system. What we have is a thinking, acting individual, who is organically one, and whose former experiences have in some way, modified his present behavior. It is largely due to James that the emphasis today has been placed upon ac- tivity rather than upon the mere knowing processes. This placing of emphasis upon activity gives us a view of mental life which is very wholesome, for thus we are led to the recognition of the reality of the individual in a world of real things. The older thinkers who placed their emphasis upon mere knowing had the habit of conceiv- ing all reality merely as a thing known; that is, as an object of thought. So in the end, thoughts were substituted for things. The world was conceived of, primarily, as a thing of the intellect. The great philosopher Plato thought in this way. Plato held that the ultimate realities are ideas; that “things’ are only the expressions of or manifestations of these invisible ideas, and that to know reality is not to participate in any activity, but that reality can be known only when we contemplate good, true and beautiful principles. In the parable of the cave which occurs in his dialogue, “ The Republic,” Plato expresses this view very interestingly. He pictures men living in an imaginary underground world, so situated that light, coming from behind them casts on the wall of the cave moving shad- ows. The men chained with their backs to the light, see these only, shadows and to them they are real, but the enlightened one, who has turned his thoughts to the higher world of truth, knows that reality is something very different from the things that men call real. This “ Something” which lies outside experience, can be found only in the world of the abstract, the eternal, all else is mere shadow, illusion. From Plato’s time down, even today, thinkers have been fascinated with this idea of the “ fallacy of sense experience,” 33 This theory does not stand sound criticism and it is, moreover, a very unhealthy theory. It leads people to strive for imaginary escapes from the problems and tasks in their lives and encourages them to seek fic- titious goods in a world of fancy and idea. ‘Thus it often leads people away from the realities of which their lives consist. It makes them feel that they are achieving something when they are merely indulging themselves in contemplation. It tends to divert thinking from its true ends and make it futile and unprofitable. In contrast with all this the point of view of William James is splendidly stimulating. The world is always real before him and interesting. It is not a world of philo- sophic meditation, but a challenging world, a world which cannot even be reduced to any philosophic system but one which for our welfare or our unhappiness has many “lines of influence” or kinds of connections among things. To discover and set up fruitful relations among things and between things and ourselves is the task of the mind and the successful achievement of that task is the verification of the truthfulness of our think- ing. Therefore, with James and others who followed him, we get away from what we call “Intellectualism.”” The emphasis upon activity led James to call his own philosophy “ Pragmatism,” a term derived from a Greek word meaning action, Reality and Selection. As James stands for the reality of our world, so he emphasises very strongly the reality of individual personality. What we call self-con- sciousness, a thing of which many older thinkers have made a mystery, James sees to be not so very different from our consciousness of any- thing else. Speaking of the empirical self, or self as experienced, he showed that our feeling of self is closely related to many things which really belong to the objective world. ‘There is, for instance, what James calls the “ material self,” our bodies, our clothes, our possessions. We identify ourselves with them all. Any injury to them we feel to be an injury to ourselves. We often hear people say to one another, “ How do I look?” When they mean, ‘“ How do my clothes look?” James says that most of the things which I can call “mine” are in a sense part of me Anything, in fact, which makes us feel elated when it prospers and dejected when it fails is really a part of the feeling about ourselves and this self-feeling cannot be separated from our feeling about such things. The same is true of what James calls our “social self-feeling.”’ MacDougall, treating of the point, seems to think that we have an in- stinct of self-appreciation and self-depreciation, but as we shall see later MacDougall’s whole treatment of instinct is open to question. Certainly James seems to be more in accord with what psychologists subsequently have said on this subject. Our social-self-feeling is the feeling we get from our relationships with other people. James showed that we have many social selves, each corresponding to some particular group or social interest. Properly speaking, he says that “a man has as many social selves as there are individuals who recognize him.” And each of these social selves really behaves in a way that is different from the others. Thus a boy will behave differently at school, in the street with other boys, and at home with his parents. The soldier’s honor is a different thing from 34 the honor of a statesman or a judge. Here James has again anticipated many of the later developments in psychology, particularly the analytical psychology of Freud. There are often conflicts among the different selves in us. It may not be easy to reconcile the self feeling and its associated habits which we get from one social group with that which we have in other relationships in life. Beyond the social, there is, according to James, the “ spiritual” self and this spiritual self, he says, is not a mere abstract principle of identity or “number oneness.” He says it is difficult to detect any transcendental or spiritual element at all in this feeling. ‘ Whenever my introspective glance succeeds in turning round quickly enough to catch one of these manifestations of spontaneity, in the end, all that it can ever feel dis- tinctly is some bodily process . . . The self of selves when carefully examined is found to consist mainly of the collection of these peculiar motions in the head or between the head and the throat.”” In other words, according to James, the feeling of self is the real experience in a world of facts just like other experinces, or as he would put it, it is a strictly empirical fact. Now, “ What is this abstract numerical principle of identity, this number one within me, for which, according to proverbial philosophy, I am supposed to keep so constant a look-out. Is it the inner nucleus of my spiritual self, that collection of obscurely felt adjustments plus, perhaps, that still more obscurely perceived subjectivity, as such * * * or is it perhaps the concrete stream of my thought in its entirety? Or may it be the invisible soul or substance, in which, according to the orthodox tradition, my faculties inhere? Or, finally, can it be the mere pronoun “I”? Surely it is none of these things, that self for which I feel such hot regard. To have a self that I can care for, nature must first present me with some object interesting enough to make me in- stinctively wish to appreciate it for its own sake.” James finds such objects of self-love to be our bodies, our friends, our own dispositions, our ideals of ourselves, our actions, and any ob- jects which in fact, we take a vital interest in. Thus James puts the self of us each out into the world of fact. He makes what is called self- consciousness a purely objective feeling. Although James is essentially opposed to the older idealists in these matters, we should not think of him as materialistic in the ordinary popular sense of the term. Most materialists are mechanists; that is, they believe that the activity of living things is entirely determined by mechanical causes: therefore, there is no place for choice. Now the essential principle in James’ psychology is that where mental life exists there 1s selection. The word choice stands out in James’ psy- chology as in the writing of no other authority on this subject. He says that no actions but such as are done for an end and show a choice of means can be called indubitable expressions of mind. James makes mind consist primarily in the process of choosing. He makes this the distinction between mental phenomena and those which are purely physical. Let us note how he expresses this at the very beginning of his “ Prin- ciples of Psychology.” He says that if you put some iron filings on the table, then hold a magnet above them, placing a sheet of paper be- tween the iron filings and the magnet, the iron filings will come to meet 39 the magfet, but will be stopped in their course when they come against the piece of paper, and there they will stay as long as the magnetic cur- rent is in operation. Notice that the iron filings have no alternative way of acting. They can respond to the presence of the magnet in only one way, and if in that solitary way they do not succeed in reaching their end— contact with the magnet, they are doomed to failure. But now, says James, let us notice the behavior of an animal which is rather low in the mental scale, a frog, for instance. Put the frog under water and hold an inverted drinking glass over it. Soon the frog will try to come to the top of the water to get air. It will try many times to rise through the glass, but after repeated failures, the frog will do something which the iron filings cannot do. It will take another course. It is this ability to choose another course when the first fails to overcome obstacles that James finds to be characteristic of all mental life from the lowest to the highest stages. It should be said that his whole psychology is written around this idea, which lies at the basis of his entire philosophic thinking. [ntellect an Instrument. As we go on with this course we shall see that we have here a very controversial point in psychology. There is a tendency on the part of a large group of psychologists today to take the mechanistic point of view and assume that there are no real alternatives at all, but that every movement or action is determined entirely by physical conditions. This is rather an assumption than a proved theory. But it is an interesting and an inviting theory to many minds because it seems to simplify the prob- lems of psychology and help the scientist to reduce all things to the same sort of logical system of causes and effects. James says, “ Now the study of the phenomena of consciousness which we shall make through- out the rest of this book will show us that consciousness is at all times primarily a selecting agency. Whether we take it in the lowest sphere of sense, or in the highest of intellection, we find it always doing one thing, choosing one out of several of the materials so presented to its notice, emphasizing and accentuating that and suppressing as far as possible all the rest. The item emphasized is always in close connection with some interest felt by consciousness to be paramount at the time.” The fact that mental life consists primarily in choosing gave James his great insight into the nature and meaning of the intellect. Heretofore men had regarded intellect as a copying device, a passive receiver of impressions. With James we learn that it is essentially an instrument. The theory that the intellect 1s an instrument with which we may adapt ourselves to the environment, together with the doctrine that man is a choosing animal, is one of the most revolutionizing concepts in mental science. Before considering this matter more specifically I wish to discuss the issue which it raises in psychology. Mechanists will not tolerate the thought that there is anywhere as an active factor in behavior such a thing as purpose or selection. They do not believe that there are any alternative possibilities. All the acts of every living being are positively determined. They are simply the equations of the forces which play upon the organism. ‘Thus, given a certain physical condition, a living being must act in only one way, and all the manifold actions of man and animals are declared to be predictable. Undoubtedly there are many purely auto- 36 matic responses which living beings make to certain situations. Moreover, the scientific method requires that wherever it is possible to point out the factors that determine behavior it should be done. But allowing for all this, it is a rather daring assumption to say that all movements and thoughts are determined in this way. Professor Jacques Loeb is probably as representative of this view as any one. As we saw in the previous lecture, he held that because of their peculiar chemical constitution living beings must necessarily make certain responses to stimuli. He called these responses forced movements or tropisms. He said that the more co-ordinated or complex forms of behavior are made up simply of combinations of these forced movements and that the combining of such movements in higher forms of behavior is not the work of the organism acting as a free-agent. These combinations are the result of mere synchronizing of stimuli and movements. In other words, the environment itself evolves what we call mind. This evolution is brought about because certain stimuli again and again fall upon the organism at the same time, thus producing what, as we said in an earlier lecture, are called “ conditioned reflexes.” Of course, neither Professor Loeb nor anyone else has proved this theory experimentally beyond the fact that certain very simple organisms when their movements are definitely controlled in a laboratory can be made to do certain things in such a way that a correlation can be established between the amount of the stimuli and the extent of the bodily movement. When we come to con- sider the higher forms of life the notion that all movements are mere combinations of tropisms, and nothing more, is an unproved hypothesis— a sort of faith which is very common to men who take an almost religious attitude toward mechanism. The matter comes down to this: The mechanist asserts that if we knew enough we could see that his theory is true in all cases. He does not claim that we do know enough. But it is a serious question whether the mechanists’ theory interprets the present known facts of psychology. In a large measure it may be regarded as a pure assumption, dragged into science from the realm of metaphysics. Back of this theory is the notion that the whole universe is dependent upon a single all-embracing principle. ‘The older meta- physicians called this principle God, The Absolute, Substance, Brahma. More modern metaphysicians give this universal mystery another name. They call it First Cause, Force, and so forth. Like their predecessors, these men wish to believe that all the facts of existence are manifestations of this great principle and are reducible to the forms of human reason. In other words, mechanism is a phase of rationalism, it is pure meta- physics, for it assumes that the universe itself is essentially rational. And therefore, on the basis of such an assumption, the thought that perhaps there may be factors in human behavior that are not reducible to a logical system seems to many a mind to be a sort of heresy. We cannot in this brief lecture discuss this metaphysical theory except to marvel that men can hold it so tenaciously in advance of greater knowl- edge than we possess. And even though we should succeed in pointing out logical and causal connections among all things, should we not even then have only one possible view of the world—one among many? It may be. as Bergson has argued, that there is such a chasm between the actions of organic and inorganic things that one type of activity can never be 37 adequately expressed in terms of the other. The changes in inorganic beings seem to move in cycles; that is, they repeat themselves. But or- ganic beings do not repeat themselves. They never actually pass through the same stage twice, for the reason that they are always bing modified, first by the process of growth and second by the traces left in their nervous structure by their own actions and experience. Thus, if to any extent at all an organic being can never again be made to pass through identically the same stage in its history it follows that in each: successive moment of its life there must be to some degree an element which is new, which has not existed before. And if the life history of organisms always contains an element of newness or uniqueness, however small it be. obviously it is impossible to reduce organic behavior wholly to any sys- tem since systems are static while organic behavior is dynamic and ever changing. Certainly James maintained this view along with Bergson, for he says, speaking of ideas, that we never have the same idea twice and cannot, because even though we think on successive occasions, about the same object, yet the subsequent thought occurs in a “modified brain.” The very thought that we are noticing an object again is different from our thought that we are seeing it for the first time. James, moreover, repudi- ated, in ways that I do not believe have been answered, the philosophy of “monistic determinism,’ which as I said lies back of mechanistic theories of life. He saw no reason why we should say that the universe is either logically or morally one. He rather doubted this assumption and held that such unity as we can trace through the world of objects always creates a system which is partial and which takes on its character as a result of the standpoint from which we start. In other words, all of our systems are purely human contrivances, through which we follow out certain “lines of influence”? which connect things in ways that happen to interest us. Now, let us return to my statement that mechanism has not been thoroughly proved even in the psychological laboratory. Do organisms have more than one way of responding to a stimulus? Professors McDougall and Jennings believe they have. McDougall distinguishes be- tween what he calls “ purposive action” and “ reflex action,’ and main- tains that higher organisms exhibit both types. Even concerning the behavior of the lower forms of life Professor H. S. Jennings is quoted as follows: ‘“‘ Can the behavior of amoeba be resolved throughout into direct unvarying reactions to simple stimuli—into elements comparable to simple reflexes? For most of the behavior . . . the stimuli can he recognized in simple chemical or physical changes in the environment. Yet there are certain trains of action for which such a resolution into unvarying reactions to simple stimuli seems unsatisfactory. This is notably true for some of the food reactions. In watching an Amoeba following a rolling foodball, one seems to see the animal, after failing to secure the food in one way, try another. Again, in the pursuit of one Amoeba by another, it is difficult to conceive each phase of action of the pursuer to be completely determined by a simple present stimulus. For example (in the pursuit described above) after Amoeba B has escaped completely and is quite separate from Amoeba C, the latter reverses its course and recaptures B. What determines the behavior of C at this point? 38 One who sees the behavior as it occurs can hardly resist the conviction that the action at this point is partly determined by the changes in C, due to the former possession of B, so that the behavior is not purely reflex.” (“‘ Behavior of the Lower Organisms,” p. 24.) Again he writes: “The movements in these reactions are clearly not the direct results of the simple physical action of the agents inducing them. As in the higher animals, so in Amoeba the reactions are in- direct. . . . It is therefore not possible to predict tie movements of the organisms from a knowledge of the direct physical changes pro- duced in its substance by the agent in question.” (Op. cit., p. 23.) “Thus we find in the unicellular organisms very little in the behavior that can be interpreted in accordance with this local action theory of tropisms.” All this, is, in a way, a confirmation of James’ position. In the “Principles of Psychology,” he says, “ All the centres, in all animals, whilst they are in one aspect mechanisms, probably are, or at least once were, organs of consciousness in another, although the consciousness is doubtless much more developed in the hemispheres (cerebral) than it is anywhere else. The consciousness must everywhere prefer some of the sensations which it gets to others; and if it can remember these in their absence, however dimly, they must be its ends of desire. If, moreover, it can identify in memory any motor discharges which may have led to such ends, and associate the latter with them, then these motor dis- charges themselves may in turn become desired as means. This is the development of will; and its realization must of course be proportional to the possible complication of the consciousness. Even the spinal cord may possibly have some little power of will in this sense, and of effort towards modified behavior in consequence of new experiences of sensibility.” “ All nervous centers have then in the first instance one essential function, that of ‘intelligent’ action. They feel, prefer one thing to another, and have ‘ ends.’ Like all other organs, however, they evolve from ancestor to descendant, and their evolution takes two directions, the lower centers passing downwards into more unhesitating automatism, and the higher ones upwards into larger intellectuality. Thus it may happen that those functions which can safely grow uniform and fatal become least accompanied by mind, and that their organ, the spinal cord, becomes a more and more soulless machine; whilst on the contrary those functions which it benefits the animal to have adapted to delicate environ- ing variations pass more and more to the hemispheres, whose anatomical structure and attendant consciousness grow more and more elaborate as zoological evolution proceeds. In this way it might come about that in man and the monkeys the basal ganglia should do fewer things by them- selves than they can do in dogs, fewer in dogs than in rabbits, fewer in rabbits than in hawks, fewer in hawks than in pigeons, fewer in pigeons than in frogs, fewer in frogs than in fishes, and that the hemispheres should correspondingly do more.” Let us omit for the present all dis- cussion of the terms “‘ Consciousness” and “ Will” in the passages just quoted: all I am concerned about now is to show that James msists upon the place of selection in psychology. 39 In his Briefer Course, James says that as the functions of the higher centers are added to those of the lower ones, ‘an animal’s behavior has become incalculable, we no longer can foretell it exactly . . . in addition to the previous response (which James is quite prepared to say consists of forced movements) to present incitements our frog now goes through long and complicated actions of locomotion, spontaneously,” or as if moved by what in ourselves we should call an idea. Again, “ the lower centers act from present sensational stimuli alone. The hemispheres act from considerations, the sensations which they may receive serving only as suggestors of these—but what are considerations but expecta- tions?—They are, in short, remote sensations and the main difference between the hemisphereless animal and the whole one may be concisely expressed by saying that the one obeys absent (objects) and the other only present objects.” This obedience to absent objects, objects which should not actually be present in any situation to which an organism responds, is something which does not seem to me to be explicable upon the strictly mechanistic theory. James uses the principle of selection all through his writing, and while much of his work has been subjected to more careful study, and sometimes to revision, by those who have fol- lowed him, he has not been successfully refuted upon this point. Nor has it been shown that his theory of spontaneity and selection is less true to the facts of experience than the theory which mechanists would sub- stitute for it. A moment ago we said that James maintained the intellect to be an instrument for adapting the organism to its environment. I wish first to show the relation between this view of the intellect and James’ theory of mental selection. Then I wish to show what is the significance of this view for all our thinking. James argued that mental life was essentially concerned with bodily movements. Even in the chapter on “ Will,” where he is sometimes accused of indulging in mysticism and moralizing, he still holds that all we can directly will is our own bodily movements. In the chapter on “Attention,” he holds that attention is essentially a selective thing: that it is by noticing special aspects of the manifold environment that we not only give that environ- ment some meaning but also deepen in our own organization certain im- pressions which subsequently may determine our choices. Certainly, when you stop to think of it, we are not uniformly or im- partially responsive to the things about us. How little any one of us notices in a situation. We often fail to notice things which are actually playing upon us or stimulating us. For instance, as I write this lecture there is the pressure of my clothes; there is the weight of my body; there is the ticking of the clock; there are various lights and shadows and noises all about me; and these things are actually present physical stimult, yet unless IJ make an effort to notice them, they go unobserved while I am occupied with patterns of action which are not directly called forth by my present physical situation at all. I am responding to stimuli which extend all through my past and have developed in me certain habits of thinking. Of the many kinds of vibratory movements in the material world, our sense organs select only a very few to respond to, sounds and lights and tactile impressions, etc. Even among these there is again selection, for the range to which we can respond (for instance, the tones 40 we can hear) is limited and among the objects which we can see and hear we really respond to very few. Those to which we really respond we arrange into a sort of hierarchy of importance, selecting some as having significance and others as not. Among those which have significance for us we have our preferences. What is this whole process but selection? Is it not true that we are building up a sort of order among things and building it up on the basis of our own survival and human interests and preferences? In other words, how could we behave in such ways as to secure our survival in the world if we did not make such selections among things? How could our lives have any meaning? Except for the fact that, as James says, we are “interested specta- tors’ in the world of things, there would be no meaning at all. A being which was equally interested in everything could not be particularly in- terested in anything. The meaning of our world is the meaning which we give to it. A cross section of what is happening at any particular moment is merely a “ booming, crashing confusion.” If we were merely acted upon by our environment and did not in any way react upon it or select within it the things to which we respond, it would be foolish to talk about our doing the things which make for our survival or future better- ment. We intervene in the course of events, as Dewey says, in order that our future functioning may be richer. Our acting at all has this significance that it causes certain things to become actual which at the time we act exist only in the world of possibilities, and our very act also closes a door to some alternative possibility. 39 Thus we are always saying “yes” and “no” to things. James made much of this fact that we are active and creative agents in the world. To the end our reasoning is partial. He shows that reasoning is possible only because we notice certain aspects of things which are relevant to our interests and in noticing these things we ignore all other facts which may be said about any object which concerns us. Thus, if we are in- terested in the chemical constitution of water, we ignore its thirst-quench- ing qualities, the fact that it is a fluid, the place of water in art; in fact, everything except the relation of water to two gases—oxygen and hy- drogen. Now H,O is not really water. It is only a symbol which re- presents a particular interest which we may have concerning water, an interest which while we have it excludes all other interests, if we are to think as chemists. So in all our thinking, thinking never gives us an equivalent of the facts of the world about us, but consists in the string- ing together of symbols, which symbols are representative not so much of things as of some peculiar and especial interest concerning the things. These symbols we work up into systems, the value of which is to give us a better hold upon the world of facts. So, as James says, thinking is essentially a function of behavior. It is instrumental and it derives this function because mental life is essentially selective. If we were pushed about, as the mechanists say we are, if we were not called upon to decide about future events, being determined wholly by the past, there obviously would be no reason why we should think at all. Thus, according to our author, thinking is creative since it is out of our interests and out of the fact that we must act in certain ways to secure certain ends, that the meanings of life are created by us and for us. 41 These meanings are purely human achievements, including as they do all our institutions, all our “truths,” all our logical and moral systems. Truths are man-made. Truth, says James, is what we say about facts when they fit in to the totality of our experience. A fact becomes true when it is verified ; the word “ verify’ means to make true. So a fact be- comes true when it 7s made true. This position is known philosophically as pragmatism, a word which James gave to the humanist point of view, and by humanism I mean the doctrine that truths are man-made. It is obvious that scientific truths, like other truths, are man-made. They are not invisible or spiritual things which are given in advance. They are discoveries of relationships among things of human significance which have been isolated for purposes of better knowledge. They derive their relative importance from the partiality of human reason and the process of selection which is basic in all behavior. The meaning of any truth anywhere comes down in the end to be what we must do about it, hypothetically, if not actually. If an idea makes no difference to us it may as well be false as true. Thus, we see even the mechanistic doctrines of science are themselves highly selected instruments for dealing with reality. The mechanistic philosophy itself could never have come into exist- ence if mechanism were a correct account of behavior. James’ Influence on All Thinking. As with scientific truths, so with so-called moral, philosophical and “ spiritual” truths. These, too, are human devices. They are not, as Plato thought, eternal ideas existing in the world of pure contemplation. There are no eternal or absolute truths. The very word absolute means that which is out of all relations; therefore, that which makes no differ- ence; consequently, that which may as well be false as true. James found in this method of thinking not a system of metaphysics but an instrument for dealing with philosophical and sociological questions in a new and more fruitful way. It brushed out the dust that had ac- cumulated through the ages of idle philosophic speculation. It did away with the older “ intellectualism,” with its notion that mental life is strictly a knowledge affair and it put in the place of the impersonal and static and predetermined universe of rationalism a new and more significant view of life. Things are not static. Man is making real choices in the mixed up world of real goods and real evils, seeking to create some sig- nificant meanings out of the stream of events and actually helping to determine to some measure what the outcome of human existence shall be. Therefore, the world is not the fixed thing that older thinkers thought it to be. It is an unfinished world, a world of which even a divine being, assuming him to exist, could not know the outcome. ‘‘ We shall never know what the world is,’ says James, “until the last man’s vote is counted.” In a strictly psychological discussion these philosophical considera- tions would not play a part, but some account of them is necessary in order to show the significance of what William James has done for psychology. Psychology in this sense makes a difference in our think- ing. It has uses which may be of value to us in determining the ends toward which we are striving. It is more than a mere scheme for 42 manipulating people. And also perhaps it is permissible to digress from the technique of psychology far enough to suggest what it would mean in the way of tolerance and effectiveness generally if people could hold their principles as James suggests we should. Principles should be verified. Most people wish to vindicate them. Principles are merely leading ideas. Their value is to lead us to more fruitful and valuable experiences and actions. The Intellectualistic philosophy has always in the end substituted a mere form of thought for the facts of experi- ence. The philosophy of determinism always robs behavior of its sig- nificance inasmuch as it always teaches that actions in the present are determined solely by the past. James’s philosophy is a forward looking philosophy. It shows that future events act as considerations in human behavior and calls men to pay some attention to these future events and learn to value them as real alternatives among which we have to choose. : The point of view of James is essentially anti-traditional. It is empirical. That is, it is an appeal to the facts of experience. It is opposed to our denying facts for the sake of logical consistency or in order to maintain some made-in-advance theory. It helps us to see the importance and seriousness in all living of the fact that man is a choosing animal. It does away with the old static universe and shows us our behavior thrown upon a background of real events in a world which is not underwritten and guaranteed, a world in which we have to take our chances. It leaves the future open. Suppose men could begin thinking in these terms about morality, religion, the economic class struggle, about politics and social problems. I am sure that new and more effective mental habits would be developed, and that psychology would contribute as it never has yet to the solution of the riddle of living, LECTURE IV Psychoranalysis—What Freud and his followers have done for Psychology. PSYCHO-ANALYSIS: What Freud and His Followers Have done for Psychology EARLY every one to-day has heard something of Freud and of Psy- cho-analysis. To many people psycho-analysis is a sensational subject or it is merely an amusing whimsicality. Often it is regarded as something more or less disgusting. Sometimes people look upon it merely as a new device for curing nervous patients of their ailments. The truth is that Freud’s work in psychology is a very serious matter and constitutes an important development of the science. We are not concerned in this lecture about the psychoanalytic method of curing diseases. Our interest is in the new light which Freud has thrown upon human nature and in the contribution which he has made to psychology. The Misfortune of Psycho-Analysis. Psycho-analysis has been unfortunate in the type of popularization which it has received. It came to the public as a new and startling dis- covery. There has for a long time been in America an interest in psycho- therapeutics, or “mental healing.” This fact is shown by the uncritical crowds who only recently followed Monsieur Coué when he visited this country. People wish some magic cure. They have the notion that there is locked up in themselves a storehouse of spiritual superiority and material success, and if only psychology can speak the magic word we shall all be transformed into beautiful and effective beings. ‘There is also in the public a half-conscious resistance to our moral conventions. People often like the discussion of forbidden topics, if only the discussion can be made to appear scientific. Knowing these facts certain persons have naturally taken advantage of the situation and have found in a distorted caricature of psycho-analysis a method of easy aggrandisement. Often the popularization of psycho-analysis has been carried on by well- meaning people who had no first-hand knowledge of Freud’s work, and had little previous training in psychology. The result has been that for a number of years psycholo-analysis was a sort of fad. It was “the latest thing.” Fortunately, this period has nearly passed. Many of the people who read cheap books about psycho-analysis and attended sensation- al lectures on the subject are occupied now with new and later fads. And serious students can now give their attention to this branch of psychology, without the feeling that they are in some way encouraging a popular fallacy. It is also unfortunate in a way that psycho-analysis was not developed by professional psychologists in our universities. For this meant that many of those who became interested in it were, in a sense, outsiders while the psychological profession as a whole has been very slow to take a serious interest in it. Psycho-analysis is an achievement of the medical profession and it has, therefore, what is to the professional [45] 46 psychologists a strange point of view. Its terminology appears to be inexact, unscientific, and even mystical. Moreover, it often challenges the introspectionist and behaviorist schools of psychology. The result is that even to-day much of the teaching of psychology in our universities goes on as if Freud had never existed. There are a few psychologists like Dr. Stanley Hall and Professor Woodworth who have been frankly interested 1n psycho-analysis. And there are others like Knight Dunlap, who are quite hostile. Dr. Stanley Hall says that this indifference and hostility is one of the causes of the unsatisfactory condi- tion of the science to-day. He says of the present condition of the science, “I find a growing dissatisfaction with results which has greatly increased with the war and a growing uncertainty as to whether we are really on the right track. . . . Thus I believe that there is a growing consensus of the competent that the condition of psychology in this country, and indeed throughout the world, is far from satisfactory. And that the promise of two decades ago has not been fulfilled. . . . Psycho- analysis and the study of the unconscious have been condemned on super- ficial grounds by most American psychologists of the normal. Despite all the errors and dangers psycho-analysis really marks, not the first, but the full advent of evolution in the psychic field.” In the preface to the English translation of the “ Introduction to Psycho-analysis”” by Freud, Professor Hall further says, that Freud’s discoveries ‘‘ have attracted more and growing attention and found fre- quent elaborations by students of literature, history, biography, sociology, morals and esthetics, anthropology, education and religion. They have given the world a new conception of both infancy and adolescence and shed much new light upon characterology; given us a new and clear view of sleep, dreams, reveries, and revealed hitherto unknown mental mechan- isms common to normal and pathological states and processes, showing that the law of causation extends to the most incoherent acts . . .; taught us to recognize morbid symptoms . . .3 revealed the operations of the primitive mind so overlaid and repressed that we have almost lost sight of them; fathomed and used the key of symbolism to unlock many mys- ticisms of the past; and in addition to all this, affected thousands of cures, established a new prophylaxis, and suggested new tests for character, disposition, and ability, in all combining the practical and theoretic to a degree salutary as itis rare. . . . The impartial student of Sigmund Freud need not agree with all his conclusions, . . . to recognize the fact that he is the most original and creative mind in psychology of our generation.” This is indeed a generous statement, coming as it does from one who might, in a way, be called the dean of American psychologists, espe- cially in view of the fact that in many instances Freud’s work necessitates a modification of Dr. Hall’s own conclusions. Freud has been compared to Darwin. Perhaps it is an overstatement to say that the Freudian development in psychology is as significant and revolutionary an achieve- ment in human thought as was Darwin’s publication of the “ Origin of the Species ”’ in the middle of the last century. Nevertheless, as psychology comes to be more and more important in our knowledge of human affairs, the work of Freud will occupy in the future a larger and more significant place. Freud, like Darwin, has given the world | a point of view which not only is new in itself but which necessitates the restatement of many 47 beliefs which at first-hand would probably seem to have nothing to do with it. I am convinced that all our human sciences will be rewritten in the light of Freud’s discoveries. Already the social sciences, sociology. economics, and social psychology are beginning to feel the effects of Freud’s world changing thought. To one who is familiar with psycho- analysis many of our preconceived notions about politics and social theory are seen to be mere guess work and many of our prevailing social ideals and movements are seen to be very different in motive and character from what they appear on the surface. Psychology heretofore has been able to throw very little helpful light upon social situations. It is not enough to say that men’s associations are due to the existence of group mind, as Professor MacDougall does, or to the herd instinct as does Dr. Trotter,—or even to say with Professor Dewey that customs and traditions, in fact the forms of civilization, consist of habits. Habits, indeed, but we need something more specific. Psy- chology must show us how those social habits are built up in the life history of people, what ends they serve, what long-forgotten events in individuals’ past may determine them, and we must also look to psychology for information concerning the value of various habits,—whether they are correct forms of adjustment to situations or are morbid fixations. We should know when people’s thought and behavior are really solving prob- lems which confront them in the real situations of their lives, and when they are merely seeking escape from reality or consolation in defeat, or in some way to preserve their comforting fictions about themselves. I can see no answer to questions like these unless we take the work of Freud into account. A Brief Account of Freud’s Work. We have no time in this brief lecture to give anything like a historical account of psycho-analysis. But the main outline will be of some interest, I think. Freud, as I said, approached psychology from the practice of medicine. Before 1890 psychology had already taken into account the effects of abnormal mental life. Hypnotism was known and cases were reported giving certain valuable facts about hysteria_and other forms of neurosis. In James’ “ Principles of Psychology”’ there is a fairly good resumé of the achievements of psychology in this direction at the time. One interesting explanation of certain abnormalities was that of “ multiple personality.” It was discovered that certain patients could be put into such conditions that they acted and seemed to regard themselves as really different persons at different times. Often, between these various “personalities” which existed in the same individual there were memory gaps of such a nature that when the patient thought of himself as one of these personalities he could not remember anything that had to do with the other. Sometimes there was, however, a consciousness of the other personality, but no real connection between these various levels of con- sciousness. Psychopathologists gathered from such facts the conviction that much nervous disease was the result of a splitting of consciousness, as if a certain portion of the mind might be broken off from the main body of the association of memories, and in the detached condition seem to form a little association of its own. Many forms of automatic behavior and of compulsive or obsessive ideas were explained in this way. Certain 48 physicians whose task it was to treat such cases resorted to hypnotism in the attempt to reintegrate the broken-up personality. When the patient was hypnotized the physician made certain suggestions designed to re-associate the split-off elements of the mind with the main consciousness of the patient. It was in this way that Freud at Vienna began his work with such patients in the early Nineties. He found that when patients were hypnotized they often remembered things which they could not re- member in their normal waking consciousness. When these forgotten facts, most of which were very painful to the patient, were later brought to his consciousness he commonly showed strong emotion; in fact, he reacted to them with very much the same emotional re- sponse that one would show in actually experiencing them. ‘This was an interesting psychological discovery for the patient might have been for many years unable to recall these unpleasant memories. More interesting still is the fact that very often when such things were brought to his mind the emotion that he expressed seemed to clear things up for him so that he got well. From this fact it was concluded that his nervous trouble was due to his inadequate emotional response at the time of certain unhappy experiences. The bringing about of such a belated response in the effort to cure the patient was called the “cathartic method” and the emotional re- sponse which was produced by this method was given the rather awk- ward name of “ abreaction.” Freud began his practice with these facts in mind, but he says in his early papers on hysteria that he had some difficulty in applying hypnotism. Often the patient refused to be hypnotized. At any rate, Freud said there were many persons he was unable to treat in this way. So he had to find another method of getting at these forgotten memories which were troubling the patients. He began by pressing his hands on the patient’s head and suggesting that he or she would remember. In this way, after exhaustive effort, he found that he was able to bring out the forgotten psychic material into consciousness, just as had been done with patients who were hypnotized, Later he discovered that sometimes patients could recall their forgotten ex- periences when they were allowed just to talk freely and at random. Freud also discovered that when his patients told him their dreams. the dream commonly had some relation to the facts which they were trying to recall. In this way Freud learned the technique of interpreting dreams. It was in a sense similar to the technique which he had employed in interpreting to his nervous patients the signifi- cance of forgotten things which in themselves had often proved to be insignificant to the patient even when recalled. Freud’s work on dreams is the classic study of the subject and is one of the most important books in the whole science of modern psychology. After accumulating thousands of studies of dreams he was able to show the psychological meaning of dreams for the first time in history. He learned that the dream is a symbolic expression of some hidden wish; that it contains elements in it which go back 49 to infancy; that the wish is generally one which we don’t admit that we entertain; that the dream is invariably egoistic; in other words, that we fare in some way actually, or under certain disguises, always the hero of our dreams. Perhaps a simple case reported by our author will make clear the way in which he made use of dream analysis to learn what was in his patient’s unconscious mind. One of Freud’s patients, a young woman, unmarried, relates to him that she dreamed her nephew (her sister’s only son), a young boy whom she loves very much, is dead. Freud, by getting her to remember all the facts associated with this dream succeeded in interpreting it about as follows: Several years ago, this young woman lived in her sister’s house. At that time she was engaged to a certain young man whom her married sister disliked and, owing to the sister’s opposi- tion, the engagement was broken off. The patient, at least con- sciously, accepted the inevitable and believed that she had come to agree with her sister’s judgment. The young man went away and she did not see him for several years. At this time the married sister had two boys. The elder one died and at the funeral service the patient noticed that her former fiancé had returned. She saw him as she stood beside the casket containing the body of her nephew. In the dream she now recalls that he is again standing in the same position beside the casket containing the body of the second boy who she dreams is dead. Centering her attention upon this fact, brings to her the consciousness that the dream merely means, not that she wished her nephew to die but that in fancy she is duplicating the scene in which her lost fiancé returned. Hence the dream is am ex- pression of the wish that some accidental situation might bring this man back to her. Freud learned that there were many typical dreams; such as falling, flying, being undressed in the presence of a group of people, being submerged by a tidal wave, and so on, All these are typical Symbols of certain wishes which we have but do not recognize. Thus Freud was led to the theory of the unconscious. The uncon- scious consists of those forgotten facts and wishes which we cannot recall at will, The reason why we cannot recall them is that they have been “repressed;” that is, they have not been reacted to adequately for the reason that such a reaction would be painful. While, therefore, we do not attend these wishes and memories, they exist in us just the same and they produce in us certain effects. Sometimes the unconscious impulses are expressed in bodily symp- toms as in hysteria. It has long been known that there are a great many persons who apparently suffer certain ailments while physically there is really nothing the matter with them. Freud has shown that the symptoms in such cases are really symbols of something in the unconscious. In other words, it is as if in some respect the dream thought or wish were haunting the individual during his waking hours. The same is true with the various actions and ideas of the insane. Curiously enough Freud has demonstrated that errors in speech, forgetting in general, and in fact, a very large part of our daily life, are all expressions of things which exist in the unconscious. In the “ Psychopathology of Every Day Life” Freud discusses these things, giv- 20 ing many illustrations in proof of his contention that even the tiniest and most insignificant things are really governed by the laws of cause and effect. The discovery of the specific causes of acts which otherwise we should regard as purely accidental in ourselves has led ' to a new view of human nature. We are not the beings we consciously think that we are. There exists in us each and all something of the animal, the savage, and a large element of childish egoism. The conscious habits which we build up through the course of our lives, hold these more primitive impulses in check. We get the habit of diverting our attention from them. We come to picture ourselves as persons in whom primitive trends do not exist; but they do exist, and in many disguised forms, they assert themselves. So, while primarily, psycho-analysis has to do with curing persons who are mentally abnormal it shows us our normal behavior in a new perspective. The Unconscious. Perhaps I can make clear this matter of the unconscious by a simple analogy. Let us say that a man leaves his home to attend a lecture at Cooper Union. He gets in the subway several miles from the hall in which the lecture is to be given. He may probably dur- ing that time read a paper or book or talk to someone. He may not once during the entire journey consciously think of the lecture or his purpose of attending it. It is as if he had made a connection between the purpose of attending the lecture and the Astor Place station in the subway and then, having made such a connection, he drops the matter out of his mind until the subway guard calls “ Astor Place.” Then he suddenly gets up almost automatically and steps out on the platform. I have often seen people step out on the plat- form in arather dazed condition as if for a moment they could not con- sciously recall how they happened to be there. Now, during the time that our traveler is on his way to the lecture he is not thinking about the lecture or Astor Place station. Nevertheless, unconsciously, he has for the time so organized himself that the calling of the station automatically discharges him into activity. That is, the purpose to attend the lecture becomes an impulse to act when the fact in the environment with which it is associated is present. Now there are formed in the lives of all of us many such asso- ciations. Purposes that we have long forgotten, tendencies in our- selves which we have “subdued and mastered,” unhappy experiences and desires which are inconsistent with our disciplined and mastered characters, may operate in us in a way similar to the operation of the purpose to leave a subway station at Astor Place. We may not even know just what these associations are. Nevertheless, the for- gotten purpose may be incited to some incipient degree by thousands of things which we never think of as being associated with it. Thus whole elaborate systems of unconscious association may be built about certain of our suppressed desires and we may, quite unknown to ourselves, be experiencing tendencies to act upon these repressed impulses. These tendencies of the unconscious do commonly not throw 51 normal people out of harmony with their environment. We may be re- minded of some vague forgotten experience by smelling a flower or hearing a song; we may have certain likes and dislikes of people which we cannot understand; sometimes we may have a curious feel- ing, on seeing certain objects, of having been in certain places before, when we know that this is impossible. Sometimes we find ourselves inaudibly repeating lines of poetry or silly jingles for whole days without being able to stop and we wonder why that thing keeps running through our heads. If this were all that the unconscious did in our lives it would not be a very serious matter; but it might be interesting psycho- logically. But we shall see as we go on in this course of lectures that many of our religious beliefs are moral ideals, our social philosophies as well as many of the customs and traditions of organized society have the function primarily of expressing in symbolic form certain of our repressed wishes. Our lives consist of fictions and whims to a degree that is quite unsuspected by us and oftentimes, when we.act upon such fictions, we are surprised to see that we thought we were doing one thing when we were really doing something quite different, The abnormal mind becomes the victim of these systems of associa- tion which are built about its repressed wishes. So much so, indeed, that one may lose his sense of reality altogether, and be unable to distinguish between fancy and fact. In many cases it is as if one were dreaming throughout the greater part of his life a dream from which he could not be awakened. In a sense, we are all “the stuff that dreams are made of.’ The unconscious with its dream thoughts exists underneath our conscious life like a stream flowing under a foot-bridge. Our acts of conscious attention are like planks thrown over this stream, resting upon rocks which here and there rise above the surface. We throw out these efforts of attention in order that some conscious purpose may cross over to an achievement, but the purpose seldom gets across with dry feet; often we upset the planks and tumble in altogether. As Dr. Stanley Hall has pointed out, we are greatly indebted to Freud for our knowledge of the processes by which one reaches his mental maturity. The psyche, or mental nature of the maturer person, is not so much a growth as it is an achievement. During childhood and adolescence each one of us has passed through various critical periods, periods in which there had to be achieved a definite integration of the forces of our nature, and in which it was necessary to detach our interest from various objects that held our love and loyalty, and to find new interests and new ways of reacting adequately to an ever widening environment. “The child,” says Freud, “is naturally polymorphous per- verse.” By perverse he means that the psycho-sexual life of the child differs from that of the normal adult in that it is not attached to the same love objects as it is with normal persons. There is a period when a child is egocentric; a period when he attaches his love to one or both parents; a period also which is called narcissism, in which the growing youth himself becomes the object of his love. In the process of psycho- 52 sexual development there are many places where the emotional life may go astray. Wrong environmental influences, hereditary defects or a bad start may cause the individual to become the victim of various “ fixations,” that is, if at any point of his development he has failed to solve the problems of a certain critical period, he is likely to remain fixed in the emotional attitudes of an earlier stage of his development. This fixation is frequently accompanied by a certain complex of ideas. Some- times this complex may be an unconscious wish, often it is a conflict which is going on unconsciously, in both cases the wish or the conflict is asso- ciated with a system of ideas. The individual will, then, in all likelihood, be unable to meet certain situations in his later life. The perverse tendencies which Freud says exist in children are, as he puts it, polymorphous—that is, they are many-form. Physiologically the little child has various erogenous zones, or areas in the body which respond with sex feeling to stimulus. During the process of growth in many of these zones there must be a repression of the erogenous type of response to stimulus, and the libido, or capacity for love excitement, must be directed toward the organs which in later life serve for reproduc- ‘tion. Along with this reintegration there must be such a building up of functional capacities as will enable the individual to behave normally in the situations of his mature life. There are individuals who, unfortunately, retain various of these perverse tendencies. Some are consciously or unconsciously sadistic; that is, their sex interest instead of being associated with affection is associated with the love of cruelty. Others are masochistic—that is, they retain consciously or unconsciously in later life a curious sex-excitation in experiencing self-torture. Others may remain autoerotic; that is, they are never able to free the sex interest from their own persons so that they can give themselves whole heartedly to anyone whom they love. And finally, there are, of course, certain individuals who remain in mature life, either consciously or unconsciously, homo-sexual—which means that they more easily love a person of their own sex than one of the opposite sex. When these maladjustments occur in mature people we speak of them as perversions. If I understand Freud correctly, he wishes to imply that tendencies to all these perversions exist in small children and are not, with them, really abnormal. Normality, therefore, is achieved by habit formation and the habits are not easily acquired, and none of our habits of normality are so thoroughly achieved as to destroy completely the infantile elements in our psychic life. We trail behind us not necessarily “clouds of glory,’ as Wordsworth said, but our unconscious carries in a more or less repressed manner all that we have been or lived through, or have failed to become. Fortunate indeed is he who “ out of the booming, crashing, confusion ” of his early years, and through the “storm and stress” of adolescence comes to maturity with such mental habits as enable him to meet the demands which life will henceforth make upon him. Such, of course, is the normal man, and it is possible that if parents and educators knew more of the Freudian psychology many more individuals would reach their maturity mentally equipped for the tasks of life than have done so in the past. 93 So far we have spoken about the repressed elements, which exist in the unconscious of the individual, normal and abnormal. Much more should be said on the subject. I would suggest that the student read such books as “ Mechanisms of Character Formation,’ by Dr. William White; “A General introduction to Psycho-Analysis,” by Freud; “The Neurotic Constitution,” by Dr. Alfred Adler, “ Psycho-analysis”’ by Dr. A. A. Brill. Repression in itself is not an evil. It is positively necessary if there is to be any order or effectiveness in our lives. All thinking and all habit formation depend upon it. One of the misrepresentations of psycho- analysis has to do with this point. During recent years there has developed a school of scamp psychol- ogists who have told their followers that repression is an evil which may result disastrously for them. The compare the repressed “ energy ” in the psyche to steam which is enclosed in a boiler without any possibility of escape and they picture the neurosis as a form of explosion, thus telling young people that if they allow themselves to be “repressed” by moral conventions or by our present social system, they are running the danger of a frightful neurotic explosion. And they point to the doing away with inhibition as the path of happiness and effective living. Can- didly, this is sheer nonsense. Doubtless there is more restraint in modern civilization than would be necessary if men were intelligent enough to govern their behavior by ideals which are relevant to the situations in which they act, but that is another matter. It has to do with what I hope may some day be a common-sense attitude toward morals. We are not, however, discussing morals now, but psychopathology. Every repres- sion involves in some way a conflict. But if the repression is successful, the conflict is solved to the satisfaction of the individual. What psy- chology is concerned with is unsuccessful repression, and such repressions demand not that the people “ go on the loose;” they demand re-education. If people tried to live without any inhibitions, they would very soon find themselves in much more serious conflicts than they were before. For us, as students of psychology, the important fact is just the difference between a successful and unsuccessful type of repression. Sometimes a successful type of repression is called “sublimation,” which means that there has been set up in the individual, through the creation of what in an early lecture we called a “conditioned reflex,” habits which direct his repressed psychic energies toward socially acceptable ends. The interesting point about material which is unsuccessfully repressed is that it gets out of us in some sort of disguised form and leads us to actions and thoughts which are often not what we think they are. Thus, there was reported in a recent psychological journal the case of a man who was subject to what was apparently epileptic attacks. It seems that his father had fainting spells due to heart trouble. The simplest explanation of the case would probably be to say that this man had inherited the disease. Close examination, however, revealed the fact that the patient’s attacks were not due to epilepsy or to heart trouble, but were of a hysterical nature. That is, they were a symbolic expression of some wish or conflict. Analysis revealed the fact that back in this man’s childhood there was a morbid fear of his father, and a stronger than normal attachment to his mother. The fact was also revealed that the patient was employed in the office of an elderly man who was very 54 strict morally, and whom the patient unconsciously identified with his father. An attachment grew up between the patient and one of the female employees with whom he worked. Fear of the employer’s dis- approval was related as the cause of the neurotic symptom of fainting. When the picture of this patient’s psychic life was sketched out it was found that his fear of his father was associated with an unconscious love of his mother, and also was often associated with an unconscious identification of himself with his father. The pseudo-epileptic attacks of fainting were the symbol of this self-identification since the father had suffered from heart attacks. They were, therefore, a neurotic and ineffective form of protest against the authority of the employer to whom the patient had to defer. It will be seen that most neurotic symptoms, like most dreams (Freud would say all of them) have the function of expressing in symbolic form some such repressed wish or conflict. There are three or four types of expression which the unconscious may assume, all of which have interest for our study. First, there are what we might call mechanisms of defense. Such mechanisms are fabri- cated by the unconscious to protect one’s feelings about himself against the recognition of tendencies in his own nature which are unacceptable to his conscious. Thus, the individual to whose case we have just referred, suffered his attacks of fainting because they were in a way a defense of his ego. So Freud reports a case in which a young man suffering from compulsion neurosis behaved similarly. Compulsion neurosis is a neurotic disease in which individuals find themselves compelled even against their will to say and do things which are often silly or injurious. The case reported by Freud is that of a young man who was impelled to stay in his room for fear that he might do some body an injury, and who spends his time writing alibis so that no one may accuse him of having committed murder. Analysis in this case showed that the patient unconsciously had in mind the thought of killing his father, who, as a matter of fact, had been dead for a number of years. Here was, as you see, a fixation of the nature referred to above. In this case, as in the case of the man who suffered with fainting spells, the unconscious cause of the difficulty was an infantile attachment to the mother image, and a consequent fear or hatred of his father. This situation is rather common. It is known as the “ Oedipus Complex.” You will remember that in the Oedipus myth of the ancient Greeks, Oedipus is led by cruel destiny to kill his father and marry his own mother, Jocasta. It is interesting to note how great a part this myth plays, not only in the dream literature of the world, but also in the great religions. It may be argued, therefore, that there is an element of the Oedipus Complex in most people, and that much thinking serves the purpose of a defense against it. If not the Oedipus Complex itself, then any form of the feeling of inferiority may lead people to fabricate defense mechanisms. Until one has his attention called to this fact, he probably never realizes how much conscious behavior of normal people is motivated by the wish to defend the ego against the feeling of inferiority. Mcuh ambition, the wish to be important, moral reform, social unrest, even race riots, should be regarded as defense mechanism. 55 The second type of mechanism fabricated by the unconscious might be called the mechanism of compensation. Whenever there is a psychic loss of any kind, the unconscious seeks imaginary or fictitious goods to put in the place of those lost. Thus, one who has a serious defect in his character may “over compensate” for it by going to the other extreme. Illustrations of these mechanisms may often be seen in the prudishness of certain people whose excessive delicacy on analysis reveals the existence of the very opposite,— that is, the prudishness is over compensation for the morbid and in- fantile obsession with the obscene. Religion may also be used for compensation in this way, as well as many “virtues of extenuation and self justification.” Thus, men who live dissolute lives are usually very sentimental about their mothers and the corrupt politician is frequently over conscientious about domestic morality. Third, there is a a type of behavior which has been called the mechanism of escape. ‘Thus, when for any reason, people find them- selves unable to react adequately to the realities about them or to derive satisfaction from the world of facts, they have a tendency to substitute for the true meanings of things fictions of their own fab- rication. In imagination they strive to “shatter this world to pieces and mold it nearer to their hearts’ desire,” thus, “ stone walls do not a prison make nor iron bars a cage’ Love is not sex; death is not death; but entrance into life eternal; and the wretched struggle for existence in civilization is not the inevitable lot of man on earth, but is merely contingent upon the existing social system’ and could be changed in the twinkling of an eye by the ballot or mass action. Most heavens and most utopias are escape mechanisms of this sort. Such mechanisms exist in their completest form in the delusions of the insane, where reality is completely repudiated and the tortured spirit takes refuge in a substitute world of wish-fancies. Often asso- ciated with these mechanisms is a phenomenon which Freud calls regression, which means that many persons who are fixed, as we have said, in earlier emotional forms of response tend when they are in difficulty to return in thought to the parent images—usually the image of the mother—and to behave as if they were taking refuge in the protection of the family circle. “Turn backward, turn backward, Oh, time, in your flight; And make me a child again, Just for tonight.”— This is a very common wish and it motivates more of our behavior than we think. Finally, there is what should be called the fact of rationalization. Rationalization is not rationality. It is the fabrication by the intellect of systems of ideas which render plausible and give specious ex- planation or justification to impulses and actions which are really determined by the unconscious. Thus a subject who is hypnotized may be given a “post hypnotic suggestion.” He may be told, for instance, that after he has awakened, say at three o’clock in the after- 56 noon, he will go and knock on the door of a fellow-student’s room. At three o’clock he is very likely to do this. But he does not remember in his waking consciousness the suggestion which was given him while under hypnotic influence. Now if the subject is asked why he knocks at this particular door at three o’clock, you will find that he is fairly sure to have a plausible explanation for his conduct. He may say that he wanted to borrow a book or that he remembered that he and the student had an engagement which he wished to talk over. These explanations are “rationalizations”’ and any behavior which is motivated by an unconscious wish is very likely to give rise to rationalizations of one sort or another. The delusions of the paranoic are rationalizations, and so, also, I regret to say, is the great portion of public opinion and of crowd thinking and propaganda. Freud’s Place in Psychology. In closing, perhaps we should note some of the criticisms of Freud's discoveries and beliefs. Most of these criticisms are motivated by considerations that have nothing to do with the case. There is, for instance, as Freud himself has pointed out, strong objection to him because of the resistances which men have to the candid discussion of sexual matters. There is often a feeling, therefore, that Freud places too much emphasis on sex. Whether he has done so or not is a matter to be decided by further study. Certainly on an empirical ground and on the basis of the many hundreds of cases with which he worked he is justified in giving the explanation which he has given of the symptoms of these particular cases. I think much of the difficulty concerning this point arises from Freud’s peculiar use of the word ‘sexuality.’ He makes it mean almost the entire in- stinctive and emotional life. And perhaps such terminology does blur distinctions which should be kept clear. Thus the distinction between sex and ego is not quite clear in Freud’s work. Dr. John T. McCurdy pointed out this fact But Dr. McCurdy’s criticisms are quite technical and, moreover, McCurdy retains much of the old in- stinct psychology which is today under severe criticism. Again Freud has been obliged to use figurative language to ex- press some of his concepts. For instance, he speaks of the existence of a psychic “censor” between the unconscious wish and conscious- ness. I think he should not be taken too literally here. For he is dealing with new ideas and should be allowed a great measure of freedom in expression. The same, I think, is true of the use of the word libido by which he means sexual energy. And I suspect he is often led to use the term “unconscious” as if the unconscious were a sort of psychic storehouse rather than a term by which are expressed behavior trends and processes which are not accompanied by full awareness. Freud himself has modified his earlier theory that ab- normal mental life is due to a shock, or “ trauma,” and that the symptoms may all be removed by “catharsis.” A discussion of this point would lead us to the medical side of the Freudian psychology and this is not the object of our present interest. Freud has given us on the whole a new view of human person- ality. He shows that the self of each of us is wider and richer than 97 we had thought before, and that we retain vestiges of primitive life even in our highest and most civilized thought and behavior. He has shown us the role that fictions and wish-fancies play in fixing the destiny of man. He has given us a new kind of determinism, not the old mechanism of the brain physiology. He has pointed out in a very helpful way the causal connection that exists among ideas them- selves and in the sequence of events in which men play an active part. His influence on the whole is on the side of wholesome self- criticism, which is a true educational aim, and it also makes for a more decent candor in society. In social philosophy he has provided us with a criterion by which we may know when people are seeking to solve problems and are really working for better order of things and when their behavior is merely motivated by a wish to solve their inner conflicts, save their faces, and substitute for the realities in life a system of fancies and fictions. Freud has given a most significant discovery in a realm where new knowledge is most needed, and is most important. The world is looking to psychology today as never before for the answer to some of the deepest questions of our lives. Freud, it seems to me, has gone further to provide us with a method of answering these questions than has anyone else in our times, LECTURE V What Psychologists think about Consciousness. WHAT PSYCHOLOGISTS THINK ABOUT CONSCIOUSNESS have sought throughout the previous lectures to avoid the use of the word “ consciousness,” because to many psychologists “ conscious- ness” is a bad word. They think it is mystical and unscientific and ob- solete. Therefore, before we could use it we should have to make up our minds whether we have, psychologically speaking, the right to use it. For as a matter of fact the problem of consciousness is a very much debated problem among contemporary psychologists. You may think it is foolish to ask the question whether we should include consciousness in a scientific study of the human mind or of human behavior. You might say, “ Why ask whether we are conscious or not? Of course we are conscious. Whoever doubts that he is conscious?” One would have to be conscious in order to doubt his consciousness. We know the difference between a man who is awake and aware of things and one who is unconscious because he is under the influence of some anesthetic or because he has fainted or is asleep. And we know the difference, too, in our own behavior between that which is accompanied by consciousness and that which is not. Something may be in your environment; may have been there all the time; playing upon your organism and you may suddenly give it your attention. You will say, “I was not conscious of that; now I am.” Why shouldn’t we just take the whole problem on that perfectly obvious and simple, straight-forward basis? Well, the problem is not quite so simple as it appears. What do you mean by consciousness? Do you mean, let us say, that something comes from outside things into your mind? Or is our consciousness something that stays entirely within the mind? When we are conscious just what is it that we are conscious of? Are we conscious of objects in the outside world or only conscious of our subjective images of those objects? And if we start with the inner images of consciousness, then how are we ever going to get into the outside world, and if we start with the facts of the outside world, of which we say we are conscious, how are we ever going to show that those facts have some kind of capacity in themselves to sum themselves up and make themselves our personal con- sciousness? If you are conscious, are you conscious that you are conscious ? Surely it would be a strange thing if we were conscious and not aware of the fact. Yet, William James says if we have to be conscious that we are con- scious in order to be conscious, we might just as well say we have to dream that we dream in order to dream or to swear that we swear in order to swear. “Consciousness” troubles scientists especially because it seems to upset the rational order of things. Scientists like to have things explained in terms of cause and effect. They like to establish a logical sequence beginning with the atom or with the planetary system or nebula, and like to show that between the largest and smallest facts of our world there can be built up a definite scientific order. Consciousness seems to break into this order from some outside world to upset our calculations, and bring in another kind of causation. [61] b 62 Some scholars who are particularly mechanistic would like to get rid of the whole problem by thrusting it out of the door. Others who are more or less willing to accept a haphazard view of the universe are not greatly bothered by the problem. Others who take a spiritualistic view, those who might be called “ mystics,” are inclined to put great emphasis upon consciousness and hold it sacred. There is to-day, therefore, among psychologists a very great confusion and debate over the question. Some, like Woodworth, allow the fact of consciousness, but they are inclined to try, just as far as they can, to minimize its importance and to explain psychology in other terms. Others, like the Titchenor group, isolate consciousness and try to study it as if it were the solar spectrum. And others, like Dewey, are inclined to say, that we should not spell consciousness with a capital ““C”; or hold it to be any particular thing, but say that some facts of behavior indicate that the subject has foreknowledge of events. Others, like McDougall, seek to base belief in consciousness on some animistic or mysterious ele- ment which you might call the “soul.” Finally there are those who, like Watson, simply dismiss the question. They are not interested in it, assert- ing that it has no scientific significance whatsoever. So you see psychology to-day is in a very curious situation regarding what most of us, as laymen, and many psychologists would say, also, is the basic fact of psychology. Woodworth and others would have no hesitancy in saying that psychology is the science of those conscious pro- cesses which we call experience. Dr. John B. Watson says, that psychology is the science of behavior and leaves consciousness entirely out. He has troubled a great many scholars. This development in psychology is known as Behaviorism. Now, to leave consciousness out of the science doesn’t necessarily mean to deny its existence, but to leave it out and at the same time to assert that it is existent and that it is important, would be greatly to limit the scope of psychology for the sake of a method. Four Theories About Consciousness. I wish, briefly, to sketch out four prevailing views of consciousness and then we will discuss them and see what we can make out of them. We were in an earlier lecture discussing the relation of the mind to the body. I said that there was in psychology a traditional view called parallelism, according to which mental and physical processes form two separate and distinct streams of events, neither of which influences the other. Here is the body with all its movements, the whole physiological- organic process of our growth, the organ movements and the disturbances in the nervous tissues are all purely physical, and might be conceivably expressed in mechanical terms. Then there is here the stream of consciousness, and this stream of consciousness runs right along side the other—a one-to-one correspondence. Suppose you say that consciousness depends upon or is accompanied by, as James would have said, brain changes, so that for every impulse of consciousness; for every complicated fact of it, there is a corresponding complicated movement in the particles of our nervous system. Therefore, there is an absolute correspondence. This way of looking at the relation of consciousness to physical processes would be called the parallelist theory of consciousness. 63 According to the parallelist theory, they are two streams of events and they are absolutely separate; they have nothing to do with each other. And in one place, on page 182 of his Principles of Psychology, James seems to hold just such a view, saying, that we must not confuse physio- logical facts of brain change with the facts of consciousness, and that when we do so, he says, we are confusing two worlds. There is a second view of consciousness which is called the interaction- ist view. According to this view, these two processes are not absolutely separate, but that though they run along fairly well together they influence each other, as, you might say, two magnetic currents might draw together and repel each other; the body might influence mind and mind influence body in such a way that the two streams or processes interact, hence, the word interactionism is used to describe that view. Then, in the third place, there is a view which I hardly know how to name, the view of Prof. Sigmund Freud. Dr. Freud’s view might be called the focal view, that is, he holds that consciousness is only a small part and a rather incidental part of the mind or the psyche. The greater part of the mental life of man goes on unconsciously. It is located in the deep centers of his nervous system where it is protected from too much stimulus and too great disturbance. This deep location of the memory traces of our life and our inherited impulses in our lower nerve centers he calls the “unconscious.” There is a small portion of our response to stimulus which is lighted up and is conscious under certain circumstances. Consciousness is located, he thinks, in the cerebral cortex, or the gray matter, on the convoluted surface of the cerebral hemispheres of the brain. He says that through a process of evolution this surface of the brain developed from a primal surface of the living cell. It has always been very greatly exposed to stimuli; it has been played upon so many times that all capacity to remember has been taken out of it; it doesn’t retain and therefore it acts instantly and its instantaneous action is consciousness. Therefore he would hold that the memory traces and deeper facts of mental life are retained by the unconscious in the lower levels of the brain and the nervous system. The difficulty with Freud’s view, to my mind, is that it is very fanciful, that it is not provable, and that it is an hypothesis which is hardly in accord with the facts. or instance, when you are conscious, if you are, obviously you don’t merely gaze at things blankly and let them make their impressions on you; you don’t merely receive impressions. Consciousness is an active thing, if it exists at all. What we do is to contribute something out of our own thought processes, out of our memory. We should have no knowledge of anything if we didn’t contribute to our awareness of objects some elements of our past experience. And therefore if we are going to limit consciousness to the mere reception of stimuli in the present moment, we have only what Santayana calls the merest elements of mental life, “essences,” about which you can say nothing; you can’t even say they exist. Surely this would not be a very fruitful hypothesis. I have no quarrel with Freud’s theory of the unconscious. I merely say this particular attempt to explain consciousness seems to me not quite in accord with the facts. 64 The fourth view of mental life or of consciousness would, of course, be the extreme behaviorist view which is, as I stated a minute ago, “out with it all.” Let us study simply the kind of responses that organisms make when we stimulate them, let us leave out en- tirely the whole question of “consciousness.” Watson would even say that it is a “spook,” unnecessary in science and only confusing. A Criticism of the Theories of Consciousness. Let us examine these various views and see if we can wholly dis- pense with the notion of consciousness. First, let us discuss the parallelist theory. If physiological processes move on one level and conscious stream moves on another level, and if neither one ever has anything to do with the other, a second problem is raised and that is by what providential arrangement do these distinct processes correspond so closely. It is rather. wonderful that by some kind of “ pre-established harmony” that for every physical state there is a certain mental state. Some scholars say that consciousness is produced by the physical stream; in other words, the physical is the cause of consciousness. Hence, consciousness is mechanically determined by physical pro- cesses. This view, James called, following Huxley and Clifford, the conscious automaton theory. Let us look at this theory and see what it makes of consciousness. It makes consciousness what has been called an epiphenomenon,; that is, consciousness has no more to do with life according to this theory than the white mark left by a piece of chalk has to do with determin- ing my making the mark. Our conscious life is like the phosphor- escent streak left on a dark wall after somebody scratches a match; it has nothing to do with the scratching of the match; it produces no effects. It is, itself, merely an effect and therefore cannot effect a thing in the material world. Each movement of our body, each change in the nervous tissue, each nervous discharge, is the effect not of an idea, it is the effect of the preceding or of some preceding bodily movement. If one bodily movement causes the next bodily movement, then we do not need mind to explain any bodily movement. Or, to put the thing a little differently, there is the illustration which James quotes: “ Let us assume that an idea can intervene be- tween bodily movements and effect something.” You might as well say, here is a train of cars. The first two cars are coupled together with an iron bar and the last two are coupled together with an iron bar, and the cars are coupled to the engine with an iron bar, but mystics want the middle two cars to be coupled not by an iron bar but by the sentiment of good will that exists between the engineer and the conductor. Thus, the intervention of an idea between our bodily movements, which are purely material movements, would be exactly like trying to couple cars with good will. Therefore, consciousness is purely an epiphenomenon, or useless by-product. This is probably the theory of most materialists, or mechanists. It is often announced as a very late discovery. As a matter of fact it is an old view and was best stated by Huxley a generation ago. 69 James asked two questions about this theory which I think are pertinent. James asks, “If consciousness has nothing to do with the behavior of an organism, if it is like the phosphorescent glow that comes after it, how did it ever happen to be evolved in the struggle for existence?” We know that animal species in the process of evolution tend to preserve those characteristics which work to their advantage in the struggle for existence Now, it seems that the higher organisms have the most consciousness. If that is true, how could the higher organisms be endowed with such consciousness if con- sciousness had no survival value? And if consciousness effects nothing, of course, it has no survival value. James says, “Isn’t it strange that it should have nothing to do with the matters which it so closely attends?” It is merely a fact of biology that the creatures which happen to have the most consciousness have succeeded in the struggle for existence. Therefore, it would seem that con- sciousness has survival value; and if it has survival value, it would seem that it must in some way have something to do with life. Secondly, James says, that pleasure and pain seem to be connected with the survival of an organism. In other words, on the whole, evolution has weeded out those organisms which take pleasure in things which tend to destroy them. Ordinarily, pleasure seems to be associated with those actions which make for the welfare of an organism and the species, If feelings of pleasure and pain have nothing to do with this behavior, as they could not if consciousness had nothing to do with it, then, obviously we should have to explain why destructive acts are painful and helpful acts, on the whole, are pleasurable. Pleasure and pain do seem to be working principles, if you look at the behavior of organisms in relation to their en- vironment—hence consciousness. I think this is a fairly good answer to the “automaton theory,” and that James has not been wholly answered by the mechanists. Consciousness and feelings of pleasure and pain seem, on the showing of the biological facts, to have some survival value. Therefore, they must lead to actions which are advantageous; and therefore, they must have something to do with determining bodily movements. I wish now to discuss behaviorism in the light of the automaton theory. The behaviorist is opposed to what he calls “ interaction- ism.” He, too, is inclined to think that consciousness affects nothing. He wouldn’t throw it out of all consideration if he thought that it did achieve results in the material world. In other words, the be- haviorist, himself, though he objects to the parallelist theory in psychology, really presupposes it. His denunciation of the notion of consciousness can be pushed back in to the old automaton theory, and that theory really presupposes the parallelist view. If the behavior- ist didn’t have in the back of his head the notion that consciousness is a thing in itself, or a process dis-associated from other processes, he wouldn’t raise the question as to how you can get those two processes together. He wouldn’t discard consciousness if he didn’t believe, in the first place, unconsciously, that consciousness is a mysterious thing which intervenes in the process of behavior. 66 Suppose, instead of regarding consciousness and the physiological processes as two things, one said, “ We will simply study the be- havior of organisms and when we do we probably shall find that some of them, human beings, sometimes behave as if they knew what they were dog. In other words, consciousness, instead of be- ing a stream outside of the process of physiological change, is simply a characteristic of some facts of organic behavior. Instead of holding it to be something that goes on on another level and sometimes drops into our behavior from the outside, why shouldn’t we say that it is simply a characteristic of some facts of organic behavior? Now, let us see if, with that view in mind, we can get anywhere. I think that all the confusion regarding consciousness is due to the fact that you can’t get anywhere on the parallelist or the old inter- actionist theory. I am not arguing for interactionism; I am sug- gesting that we give up entirely the way in which the problem has been stated. My belief is that behaviorism has here failed to state its own case. Let us see, what case can be made for the view I just stated, that sometimes human beings seem to behave as if they were aware of what they were doing, A simple reflex may occur auto- matically. But is it possible there are some facts of human behavior that, viewed purely from the outside as a behaviorist would view them, make it necessary for us to take into account the hypothesis that the person has consciousness in order that we may give an adequate ex- planation of his behavior? May we not have to assume that the hypothesis of consciousness will fit some facts of behavior better than any other? It seems to me that a psychology without consciousness fails to take into account or to explain some of the more complicated facts of behavior. I refer to the behavior which seems to show fore-know- ledge of events. I believe that if I can show that some facts of be- havior cannot be explained unless we assume that the person doing certain things has fore-knowledge of the results of his actions, then such behavior (demanding fore-knowledge) means that conscious- ness enters into behavior and makes a difference in the bodily move- ments of the organism. I once heard a great behaviorist say, “If consciousness can have anything to do with determining the movements of your body and there- fore have any effect on behavior, this world would be absolutely topsy- turvy. You might as well say that you can crook your finger at a billiard ball on a table and it would come to you.” If consciousness can, as we would say, intervene from some outside world and cause a movement in my body which is a movement in the material world, and if that move- ment is not in some way determined by previous bodily movements, then your ideas get mixed up with the course of forces in the material world just as truly as if a billiard ball would roll to you if you crooked your finger at it. But, you can make some physical bodies move to you by crooking your finger at them. You can crook your finger at a dog and he may come to you, and he is just as material an object as a billiard ball. What is the difference between the dog and the billiard ball? The difference 67 is this: the billiard ball won’t come to me because something from without it must furnish the energy which makes it move. But the dog may come to me because the dog furnishes his own energy when he moves. Now, on any hypothesis, all organic response to stimulus is release of energy from within the organism. So here we have a very great difference. One of these objects moves mechanically because it must get the energy by which it moves from outside itself; the other has that energy stored up in itself and will release it when it is stimulated in certain ways. And I am not sure the stimulus in all cases doesn’t involve some kind of consciousness. Is it possible that a man, organized as a dog is so that he furnishes his own energy for his bodily movements, can make some bodily move- ments which are just as material as the dog’s or the billiard ball’s, yet can make such bodily movements as intervene in the processes of the environment around him so as to make one set of events happen rather than another? If he can, and if he knows what he is doing, then con- sciousness does have effect in the material world, though it may not intervene from without. What I am trying to say is that an organism like man may make a bodily movement, which bodily movement intervenes in the course of events, and that the bodily movement also may be a release of his own energy. It may be explainable only on the ground that when he released that energy and made that movement, he knew what the effects of the series of mechanical changes in his environment were going to be before they occurred. Behaviorism says that mental life is response to stimulus. Stimulus was too simple a word and the behaviorists substituted the word “ situation.” Now, here is a situation around me this afternoon. It is Friday and I am to give a lecture to-night. I sit down to write the lecture. What am I doing? Am I responding to a situation that is really not present? Is there anything necessarily in the situation this afternoon in my library that can determine my behavior in writing that lecture? Yes, I am in the habit of sitting there. If I sit at the table, I am likely: to write a lecture. So habit does have something to do with it. But I don’t write lectures merely because I have a habit of writing them. I also write lectures with this audience and this evening definitely in mind. That fact is something which doesn’t exist in my library. This audience, this evening, and this event are hours ahead. In other words, I am this after- noon in a certain situation in the material world. Here in my library in'a material world there is a material situation to which I am responding. I respond to that situation in a certain way, because I am in the habit of responding to it in a certain way and I begin to write a lecture, because I am in the place, but, also, there is another element there and that is this: Let us say it is one o’clock when I begin. I am writing the lecture to give it at 8:15 o’clock. Certainly my fore-knowledge of what is going to happen at 8:15 to-night has something to do with my behavior at one o’clock. You couldn’t explain my sitting there writing that lecture on any other hypothesis than that I was partly responding to a situation that did not exist and couldn’t exist for seven hours afterwards. 68 For Knowledge Implies Effective Consciousness of Some Sort. That is my point. My behavior is a response not merely to the situation which is physically present here, but my behavior is also in large measure a response to a situation that at that time did not exist in the material world, and could not have existed in the material world for seven hours afterwards. If an organism’s behavior can only be explained by taking into account the fact that its behavior is a response to things which do not yet exist in the material world, and if one couldn’t say that such behavior was adequate behavior unless he did take future events into account, then some sort of awareness or consciousness is necessary if we are to give an account of much human conduct. If I didn’t know I was going to write this lecture and I sat there scribbling away and you asked me what I am doing, and I said, “J have the habit,” you would say that my behavior was psychopathic. In fact, psychopathic behavior in many of its phases is precisely characterized by the fact that an individual, automatically, mechanically performs habits in situations where such habits are irrelevant, because they are not adjustments to future ends. You must take into account the fact that human beings adjust themselves to and foresee future results before they occur. I don’t think my behavior brings into the natural world anything that isn’t there. It doesn’t bring in any mysterious spook of consciousness. What do I bring in that isn’t there? I bring eight o’clock into the situation at one o’clock. Eight o’clock doesn’t exist in the material world; nevertheless, I bring foreseen results of eight o’clock into the situation at one o'clock. Now, an organism which can do that can foresee future events and you cannot explain its behavior on any other basis than that such an organism is conscious. In other words, it is the deliberative, calculating, conscious, foreseeing of something that doesn’t exist in the world. A conscious being is making purely mechanical movements which set going a certain series of events which lead to a foreseen end. The movements which I make in writing are purely mechanical, and I suppose if one wanted to confine his attention to such facts, it is conceivable that he might trace a series straight through the material world, and would find that every step in that material world, every link in that whole series of causes and effects did have and was conditioned by its predecessor. But the curious thing is that even though there be a consistent series, something has manipulated that series at certain points where alternatives are possible, and in such a way that one possible series of events occurs rather than another. What does the solving of a problem mean? It means that you associate in your own thinking two or more factors in the world which have not been associated before. There may be nothing in either one of them considered in itself which necessarily demands that it should be associated with the other. The other day a young man came into our office and wanted to talk to me. He had decided to become a medical student. He is now in college. He is very much interested in certain studies. All his tenden- cies, his habits, his mental interests would lead him to go on with those studies and he came in to ask me if I would help him solve a problem. 69 It was whether, if he gave the time to attend the lectures at Cooper Union, he could get his college degree; and if he didn’t get his college degree he wanted to know if he could enter a medical school. See what he was doing? He was making a decision which would change his behavior in the material world because of some end which is four years hence. His behavior is finally settled by a calculation. He calculates the amount of time that he must give each week to his college studies and on the basis of that pure, mathematical calculation, plus an end which is yet four years out of existence, his behavior to-night is determined, because he is at home studying. You can’t explain that man’s absence this evening, taking the whole situation into account, on any other theory than that his choice of means was determined, if you want to put it that way, by factors which do not yet exist in the material world, but which will exist and that he gives deliberate, conscious, rational attention to those factors. I don’t see how, therefore, you can explain the great part of human behavior unless you take into account the fact that we are some- times reacting to situations which have absent stimuli in them, and some of these absent stimuli are not merely in the present situation, but are existing as futures which are foreseen. I could go into this much farther and show that all I have said applies to language habits or sub-vocal talking which Dr. Watson calls thinking, and show again that sub-vocal talking or thinking has absolutely no reason for existence if it is merely mumbling things we have learned in the past. Thinking has significance only if in some way it orients us to situations which we have to face in the future; if in some way it guides our behavior now so that things which we want may occur and things which we don’t want won’t occur. This matter we discuss in the lecture on habit. In the chapter on the Stream of Thought, in the large work on psychology by William James, “ The Principles of Psychology,” the discus- sion is really about consciousness. James makes four or five propositions about it. He says, for instance, that our consciousness is a sort of stream, but I don’t think he means at all the parallelistic or interactionist point of view; he means what we have just talked about. He says, “ Every thought exists in some personal consciousness.” Second, “ Thought is always changing.” ‘That, when James announced it, was a rather revolu- tionary idea. Every thought exists in some head. Consciousness is per- sonal. There are no impersonal thoughts. There is no sharing of thoughts. There are no thoughts in books. There are no thoughts in institutions. There are no thoughts in traditions. Thoughts exist only where they are thought, in individual heads. There is no communication of ideas. Thoughts do not jump out of my head and into yours when I am talking. That would be an indecent thing for them to do. Where would they be during the time when they had left my head and before they got into yours, and what would they be doing, and what would they be thinking ? Hence there can be no collective mind nor group mind. If this is true, what we have in books is only little symbols suggesting cerebral processes which in some way excite thoughts in us as in- dividuals. There can be no two people who have the same thought. Absolute pluralism and individualism is the case. 70 What we call society is not a thing, not a spiritual structure, not a combination of thoughts and principles and ideas. It is nothing in the world but our habits of behaving together, and there are no everlasting truths, no eternal verities, but situations that have to be met in a certain way. “Secondly, consciousness is always changing, “says James. You never get the same thought twice. We think we do; we talk about getting an idea and keeping our ideas as if we could hold them through life. Every successive thought about the same object is thought in a modified brain with a modified experience. It is thought in different connections and is a different thought. Again there are no permanently existing truths, no permanently existing ideas for us. .They have to be recreated all the time. When we remember things we aren’t storing thoughts up as a postmaster might put letters in a pigeon hole of a post-office to pull them out when somebody comes and gives the right name. Ideas are not stored up in memory. Ideas are functions of our nervous organiza- tions which are stimulated just as behaviorists would say they are. But they are always different and new, and our whole life is everlast- ingly irreducible to mechanical formulae. Then, again, James says, “ Thought is continuous.” Your thought always couples on to your previous thought and by some strange fact never gets coupled to anybody else’s previous thought. You wake up in the morning and your thought comes to the same stream that you were in when you went to sleep. You hear a crash of thunder but nevertheless that crash couples itself on to the previous silence. James gave us a psychological truth which I think has much to do with all thinking. “The objects of the world are discontinuous.” They are cut apart; moving all about. Our thought seems to unite them for certain purposes. James says, “ We have a feeling of ‘if’ and a feeling of ‘and’ and a feeling of ‘wherefore’ and ‘why’ and an intention to say something,” all of which means that about every one of our thoughts is a fringe which makes it move on to the next thought. The stream of our life is a continuous flow, and perhaps this is where we get the sense of personal indentity which the old philosopher sought in abstract principles. Finally, “our thought is more concerned about some parts of its object than it is about others, or consciousness is partial.’ We are not concerned about the whole situation. In a@ whole object be- fore us, we are interested only in some aspects of it. “And, therefore, consciousness,’ says James, “makes us interested spectators in the game of life.” Its function is to select and to choose. Consciousness, therefore, is a fact of the organism’s behavior and has to do with interest. Because we can feel pleasure and pain we are more concerned about some aspects of the world than others. It is important, biologically, that such should be the case. If we were equally interested in all things, we could not survive. We have to pursue the lines of our interest, because they are on the whole the lines of our survival and of our welfare. An organism therefore 71 seems to be equipped with consciousness, biologically, as a method of avoiding the things which injure it and of seeking the things which are conducive to its welfare. In other words, consciousness has sur- vival value. If so, that is an empirical and scientific fact and should be taken into account in psychology. * F K K K K K f Let us sum up, in conclusion, what I have said. Consciousness is an important problem in psychology. My belief is that the whole mechanistic theory sinks or swims, lives or dies, in regard to this very problem. I am making a straight-on challenge to mechanism in psy- chology. Behaviorism doesn’t have to be mechanistic and men do not become mechanists because they are behaviorists. If a man is a mechanist in psychology, it is because he wants to be so for reasons that have nothing to do with psychology. On the whole, then, there are three views which concern us. There is the introspectionist view, according to which consciousness is the subject matter of the study of psychology. It exists out of and above the material world; it is another kind of being which has been strangely coupled, every element of it, with an accompanying bodily movement or brain state. According to this theory the subject matter for psychological study is the analysis and investigation of this supposed higher thing, consciousness. I have tried to show that that is a wrong approach to the subject, and I should agree with the be- haviorists and say that the introspective method is a survival of a pre-scientific age,—a point of view that came before we knew what | we now know about physiology and biology. It involves either mechanical determination or a metaphysical “divine harmony” between thoughts and brain states. The second view which we have tried to discuss is the Be- haviorist view, which affects to leave consciousness out and explain bodily movements merely as response to stimuli. We have tried to say that it is perfectly correct as a scientific method to take an ab- solutely objective view of human behavior. We would not, any more than a behaviorist, wish to spend our time in the introspection of a so-called mysterious thing called consciousness, spelled with a capital “C.” We would go all the way with the behaviorists on that point, but we would say that it is impossible to explain purely be- havioristically and objectively some facts of human behavior unless you take into account the fact that that organism at certain moments is reacting to factors that are not in existence in the present material world, but that are foreseen as existing in the material world in some future moment of time. Dewey puts the case very clearly when he says that the old view of consciousness, spelled with a capital “ C,” was just as foolish, whether you take a negative attitude toward it as does the behaviorist or a positive attitude. One might as well abstract the stomach out of the world where food exists and then wonder how stomach and food could ever get together belonging to such different worlds. Consciousness as well as digestion is a process of the convergence of elements that exist on the same level. A mind comes into existence in its positive relation to (2 environment. Dewey says, we do not sit in our environment passive, but we are active agents in it. Therefore, mind comes into existence when the activity of an organism upon its environment shows that such action has been done with foresight of ends. The difference between activity with foresight of ends and that which hasn’t it is the difference between intelligence and servitude. It seems to me one would have to go so far as to deny the very existence of organic action, if in the interest of mechanism he were to say that this world is so organized that an animal, conscious of pleasure and pain, cannot set going certain bodily movements that make for its pleasure and avoid pain. In other words, that the animal, to all practical intents and purposes, has not a choice. If it has, it is altogether conceiv- able that an animal like a human being, having choice, can, if it foresees future events, set going other, purely mechanical, material things which reach to certain future. Then the futures of men are not wholly and mechanically determined futures. Alternative and choice are the basis of mental life. I do not see how anybody can write a psychology, take in all the facts of human behavior, treat them squarely, and ignore the fact that man is a choosing animal. LECTURE VI The Fatality of Habits. THE FATALITY OF HABITS. F THE old saying that we are creatures of habit means that we are merely creations or victims of our habits, the saying is a half truth. I wish to show in this lecture that we are also, at least to an extent which is psychologically important, creators of our habits. And to that extent, I suppose it should be said we are creators of ourselves. We are in large measure what our habits are. Aside from the purely instinctive and native endowment of man, the whole mental life of every one of us has to be achieved. The Importance of Habits. A few years ago psychologists were inclined to give more importance to instinct than they do today. It is seen now that even instinct patterns, that is, the modes of response which an individual inherits, very soon be- come overlaid with acquired modes of response, and acquired modes of response are habits. Undoubtedly, we come into this world with varying types of inheritance. Our very intellectual differences in the end amount to an hereditary difference in acquiring and retaining habits. James says that when we look on living creatures from the outward point of view (and this certainly applies to mankind) one of the first things that strikes us is that they are bundles of habits. Watson says the hereditary pattern acts fade into insignificance so far as concerns their number and com- plexity. He also says that in acquired activity one and the same object can call forth from an educated man literally hundreds of different actions, depending upon slight differences of setting or upon his needs of the moment. He bids us think of the number of activities that can be called out from one and the same individual by a piece of lumber, leather, stone, marble or metal. Notice that the infant has very few responses to these things. About all it can do with an object is to clutch it, try to put it into its mouth, turn it over, look at it, and throw it down. The difference between the infant and the educated man is the difference in the achievement of habits. Dewey says that our habits are our wills. He says that the medium of habit filters all the material that reaches our perception and thought. . ., . “ Reason pure of all information from prior habit is a fiction. . . . To be able to single out a definity of sensory element in any field is evidence of a high degree of previous training, that is, of well-formed habits. . . . Only the men whose habits are already good can know what the good is. . . . The essence of habit is an acquired predisposition to ways or modes of response, not to particular acts except as under special conditions. This expresses a way of behavior. Habit means special sensitiveness or accessibility to certain classes of stimuli, standing predilections and aversions rather than bare recurrences of specific acts. It means will.” In other words, Dewey means that habit is a developed tendency to act in certain directions. This, of course, is just what will is. So, in the psychological sense, we are today chiefly the habit tendencies which we have acquired. And the difference between normal and abnormal mental life is really a matter of habits. It would be quite correct to say that neurotic behavior and all the forms of mental maladjustment are [75] 76 really due to the fact that certain individuals have developed habits which are harmful to themselves and others. So you see habits of thought are just as important as habits of action; probably more so. Show me how a man habitually thinks and I can tell to an extent what he will do in a given situation. We should add further that society itself consists of habits, primarily. People sometimes think of society as a mysterious thing-in-itself or a superpersonal being. Society may be well defined as the sum total of our habits of behaving together. What are all the customs, institutions and traditions which go to make up society but habits? Many of these habits were developed thousands of years ago and they were taught by elders to their descendants for many generations. Hence, one becomes civilized when he has learned certain habits. Education is not merely giving people information. Education is the formation of those habits which enable an individual to react adequately to real situations. So important then is habit that many writers cannot resist preaching or moralizing about the subject to some degree. James, in the famous chapter on Habit in the “ Principles of Psychology,” was unable to resist this temptation to adorn his tale with a moral. This was excusable on James’s part because he was a teacher of youth and was deeply concerned about developing among his students habits of study. Our interest, how- ever, is to understand human nature. We wish to know if man is merely the sum-total of what he has learned, and if in learning he must be passive in the grip of his environment. The subject of habit is treated by Watson in two ways: Acquiring bodily habits or learning, and the retention of bodily habits or memory. Habit and the Psychology of Learning. Learning is of all kinds. But whether one learns to play a game, to walk, or to talk, or to think it is nothing other than habit formation. Woodworth and others give us some insight into different kinds of learning and habit formation. There is the learning which is merely the strengthen- ing of reflex. Watson says that in habit formation to new movements are required. There are enough present at birth to combine into complex unitary acts. The new or learned element in habit is the tying together or integration of separate movements in such a way as to produce a new unitary act. Woodworth gives various illustrations as to how a simple reflex movement may be improved or strengthened by learning. He says that if grains are thrown before a chick one day old, it will instinctively strike at them and seize them with its bill. But its aim is so poor and uncertain at first that it only gets one-fifth of the grains that it strikes at. On the second day it is able to get half, and after two or three days it is able to get three-fourths. After ten days of practice, the little chick is able to get 85%, and that is the limit of its perfection. It apparently can learn to do no better than this. A similar illustration of learning among humans is given by Watson in his account of the way in which people learn to shoot with a bow and arrow. He says that in one group studied twenty persons were selected. The arrow was shot at a target four feet in diameter and about forty yards away. The average of the first round of twenty shots was 56.9 inches 77 from the bull’s eye. After 360 shots were given the average was 27.1 inches. He says the process of learning might have gone on until the average would be about 11 inches after a few more shots. Beyond that, only the exceptional person could go. The interesting thing about this learning process is that the improvement is very rapid at first; then there follows a long period when additional practice does not seem to bring improvement. After this, there may be other periods of improvement, each followed by a static period. These static periods in which improve- ment does not occur are called plateaux. There are also shorter periods of improvement which are called resting places. Now people seem to differ somewhat in respect to these plateaux or levels of learning which they reach. Some people may improve very rapidly, and reach a plateau on which they seem to be fixed for a long time. Others may improve more slowly at first but reach a plateau that is really a higher level of achievement though they reach it later. In both cases, undoubtedly under special conditions further improvement would be possible. But it would probably be due to formation of collateral and new habits which assisted earlier ones (I will explain these habits later), rather than to a strengthening or perfecting of the original reflex movements. I think if you will study yourself you will see that you reach one of these plateaux in some kinds of learning much more easily than you will in others. At least, I find that to be so myself. In trying to learn to play golf I reached a certain score very early and after that was unable to improve upon it. The same is true in my case in learning to use the typewriter. Yet strangely enough with much less practice I developed a greater degree of proficiency in the use of an axe or rifle. Just why such differences occur I don’t know, but they do occur in the learning processes of all of us. There are some things that are apparently not our game. And per- haps we should be conserving our energies and expending them to greater advantage, if in some way we could learn what is our game and what is not. A group of psychologists who have sought to put the science at the service of industry have tried working upon this matter. It has some value for vocational guidance. Another type of learning or habit formation would consist in sim- plifying movements so that waste motions were cut out. If you watch a person who performs any manipulation skillfully, you will see that he does it with much less waste motion than does the unskilled. Notice the child learning to walk, and you will see an illustration of this. A very common illustration is to be found in watching people learning to swim. How much more effort a new swimmer puts forth in learning to keep afloat than he really needs! The infant learning to use its hands makes all sorts of random movements and its learning may be said to consist in the elimination of the unnecessary motions and the co-ordination of the others into certain patterns or series of movements. Again, learning consists in the fact that a reflex response may come to be attached to a new stimulus, one that does not naturally arouse it. The substitute response of this nature is the same as the conditioned reflex which we have noticed before. Watson says that this is the way in which most people learn to be afraid of objects. He says that the 78 only tendencies to fear that he has been able to detect in small children were when the child is dropped and when there is a sudden loud noise. Now if a rabbit or a white mouse is given the child, the child at first shows no fear, but if a loud rasping noise is made at the same time the child touches the furry animal, the child will associate the fear of the noise with the sight of the rabbit in such a way that subsequently it will cry with fear whenever it sees the rabbit. This, of course, is an example of the same thing which we referred to in an earlier lecture when we were discussing Pawlov’s experimentations with conditioned reflexes in the dog. You will remember the instance of the saliva and the bell. When the food was shown the hungry dog and the bell was rung at the same time, the dog finally would secrete saliva upon hearing the bell without seeing the food. A very large part of all our learning consists in the establish- ment of conditioned reflexes of this sort. Some systems of reflexes may be very complicated, such as learning of a trade or profession. Wood- worth gives a few of the simpler conditioned reflexes in the training of animals. There is, for instance, the “signal experiment.” A rat is placed in a box and there are, let us say, two passages leading out of the box, one of which contains food. The rat will explore the box for a while and finally learn to go straight to the passage contain- ing the food. Here he simply learns to eliminate unnecessary movements. But now let the experimentor place at the entrance of this passage containing the food a yellow card. For a long time the rat does not notice the card at all. Normally I suppose he never would associate the card with the food. Now let the experimentor change the card and the food to another passage. The rat is perplexed but after many trials he learns to enter at once in search of food the passage at the entrance of which the yellow card is placed. This is a conditioning of the reflex. There is also used in the training of animals the “ maze experiment.” Woodworth says that the rat is a favorite subject for this experiment but that fishes and even crabs have mastered simple mazes. The maze is arranged as a labyrinth, the passage through which is rather difficult to find. Watson gives us the learning curve of the rat in the maze. At the first trial, the rat succeeds in getting out in 29 minutes. At the second in 11; the fourth in four; the ninth in 2; the twentieth in 1, after which it always required about the same length of time. Woodworth shows in comparing animal learning to human learning that a rat will find its way through a maze after 53 errors; a child, 35; and a blindfolded human adult, 10. Animals may be trained also by the use of a puzzle box and other experiments. The chimpanzee, according to Woodworth, appears to be the only animal which can learn by observation. In other cases, if a trained animal is put in the puzzle box with an untrained one, the untrained one does not seem to learn the trick of getting out by watching the trained one. Even monkeys which are supposed to have a high order of teachability and are popularly supposed to have an “ instinct for imitation” do not seem to learn in this way. Woodworth, however, quotes experiments made with the chimpanzee, which seem to indicate that this animal, like man, is an exception. A chimpanzee was taught to secure pieces of banana which were put in a tube by pushing them out with a stick. An untrained ss chimpanzee was then permitted to watch this animal perform the trick, and when given the tube immediately reached for the stick and pushed out the piece of banana. The ability to learn by observation vastly accelerates the process. But even so the learning consists in the strength- ening of reflexes, the simplification of movements and the development of substitute responses or conditioned reflexes. James reduced habit to a strictly physiological basis, saying that the “moment one tries to define what habit is, one is led to the fundamental proprieties of matter. The laws of nature are nothing but the immutable habits which the different elementary sorts of matter follow in their actions and reactions upon each other. In the organic world, however, habits are more variable than this.” . . . So that “the phenomena of habit in living beings are due to the plasticity of the organic materials of which their bodies are composed.” . . . “If habits are due to the plasticity of materials of outward agents we can immediately see to what outward influences if to any the brain matter is plastic.” As the brain is carefully shut off from the direct effects of the outer world such as mechanical pressure, changes of light and temperature, the only impressions that can be made upon it are through the blood and through the afferent nerves which enter and end in the brain. These afferent nerves bear currents of stimulus of some sort, and as James says, these impulses in most cases find their way out in some activity. In getting out they leave their-traces in the paths which they make. The only thing they can do is to deepen old paths or to make new ones, and the whole plasticity of the brain sums itself up in two words when we call it an organ in which currents pouring in from the sense organs make with extreme facility paths which do not easily disappear. Perhaps this over emphasizes the element of fatality. But the problem is how far habit shows that man is merely the product of his environment. Is the learning, or habit formation, through which one comes to be what he is in mature life—effective or ineffective, intelligent or unintelligent, normal or ab- normal—is our destiny, in a word, the result of environmental forces in which man has merely a passive role? Does Habit Make Us Merely the Products of Our Environment? The habits which apparently must be the product of the environment would be those which are formed involuntarily. I refer to those mechan- isms and fixations which make up the unconscious. It would appear that the individual in the formation of associations and of various unconscious movements exercises no choice in the matter. Yet, Freud has shown that each of these unconscious habits has a meaning and that its meaning is teleological—that is, it exists for a purpose, even though that purpose is not conscious. I call such habits collateral habits. They are often the results of other habits which have been consciously formed. And many of them seem to be collateral results of our moral education. Moral training belongs in the realm of habit formation, like all learning. It is of the nature of the conditioned reflex. Now on purely physiological grounds the question arises what becomes of that which is left out of an original reflex when a response other than that which is the natural one is substituted or when an individual learns, as does Pawlov’s dog, 80 to respond to a stimulus which has been deliberately implanted in a certain reflex movement, from without? Is it not conceivable that the old reflex is still there and is lighted up at least in some incipient manner ? If so, then it must exist in a repressed condition. So that habit formation is a phase of what we saw, when we were discussing his work, Freud, calls “repression.” Perhaps our unconscious consists primarily of these broken off ends of reflex arcs. We are now concerned with the original tendencies which have been repressed by the conditional processes of moral education. When the child strikes its thumb with a hammer it will howl quite spontaneously. But a man suffering in the same way is likely merely to mutter swear words. If people get in the way of a child, it is likely to try to push them aside. The trained and civilized adult, when he finds himself in a crowd, is likely merely to philosophize or to think about the subject of birth- control. When a savage sees food he goes and takes it. A civilized man enters upon a long process of labor for his living, or he may dream of a “return to nature,” or entertain utopian ideals of an imaginary world in which there is enough for all without undue labor. Similarly many repressions are caused by our education concerning sex. This is quite necessary, for the cave-man is out of place in a civilized community. But, as we saw, the repressed erotic impulses which otherwise would be unconditioned responses to stimulus still have their traces in our organism. Many of these repressed impulses are themselves organized into habit formations of one kind or another. Some are directed toward socially acceptable goals and are, as psycho-analysts say, “ sublimated.” Others are organized into all sorts of “fixations” and “compulsions.” The technique of psycho-analysis consists very largely of revealing to the patient the meaning of such unconscious habits. Dr. A. A. Brill sends me the report of a case which I have published elsewhere that illustrates how certain of these habits grew up. A young woman has a curious habit concerning jewelry. She dislikes to wear any jewelry whatever. And on an occasion when she does wear a ring or a necklace, she finds that she repeatedly drops it on the floor, and often has to spend much time hunting for it. She also has the annoying habit of counting up to a hundred and then in 25s. The analysis reveals the fact that this whole system of undesirable habits had its origin in an incident that had to do with her mother. She wished at one time very much to wear a valuable necklace which belonged to her mother. Her mother refused and told her that she could have it when she was 100 years old and her mother dead, or when she herself had a husband to buy her a necklace. Now there is nothing in this situation in itself which, as an environmental fact, would cause these particular habits to appear. Another person might dispose of her repressed psychic impulses quite differently, so that, while the environment provides the occasion for the formation of certain collateral habits, something in the individual himself must contribute to the formation of a specific habit, good or bad. This something is probably determined by the individual’s entire inner and secret past thought about himself. Much of our ceremonialism, both psychopathological and social, as well as religious, consists of such habits. The function of ceremonialism in compulsion neurosis has been 81 shown to be the wish to purify the psyche, to defend it against certain unacceptable tendencies in itself. Hence, “taboo” habits are established, none of which could ever be predicted; all of which can be shown to be serving a certain purpose which arose in the individual’s past; and hence, the individual even in these forms of purely automatic behavior is active rather than passive in his relations to his environment. This active attitude toward his environment is even more effective when we consider the habits which are formed voluntarily. Of course, in the psychological laboratory habits may be formed in animals and people which though conscious are involuntary. It is a pure assumption to say that all habits in daily life are formed in this way. We do seem to be able deliberately to acquire certain habits which we wish to cultivate, to put ourselves in situations which are conducive to certain kinds of learn- ing, and having done so, to cooperate more or less vigorously in the learn- ing processes. James made much of this fact in the famous chapter on Habit referred to above. He tells students how to proceed with the learn- ing process in such a way that they may cooperate most effectively in the formation of desirable habits. He says it is important to take advantage of certain periods in our own development when habits may be easily formed. Just as there is a time when a child learns most naturally to speak or walk, so there is a time when it is easiest to learn a language or a trade. People who attempt to learn music after they have reached a certain age never succeed in becoming virtuosos. So James says most of our mannerisms, our professional habits, idiosyncrasies in the matter of dress, our daily preferences, become fairly definitely fixed before we are twenty-five. Again he says that one seeking to form certain habits should make his nervous system his ally. He should make the desired behavior as automatic as possible by seizing as many opportuni- ties as he can on which to perform the desired action, and he should suffer no exceptions until the habit becomes automatic. An illustration of this was given me recently by a famous linguist, who learned Spanish in a very few weeks. His recipe for learning a language is: Put yourself in a community which speaks that language; get a teacher and start talking and writing it; and for six weeks do not permit yourself to speak a word of any other language. James further suggests that one seeking to form a habit, launch himself as vigorously as possible into it, and perform a little gratuitous exercise of it every day. “ Super Habits.” Now the point of all this is that some habits may be deliberately acquired; that to learn we must make an effort; and that there is a place in such learning for choice. What habits we are to acquire, and whether we shall cooperate with our environment or withhold that cooperation, seems to rest largely with ourselves. To deny this would be to enter into metaphysics. So that we may sum up this portion of the discussion with the statement that in the formation of habits man is not wholly passive in the grip of his environment but, at least so far as some habits are concerned, much depends upon himself. I wish now to discuss a question which has great importance in the consideration of habits, and that is this: How, on the basis of habit 82 which is the stereotyping and the fixation of behavior in certain acquired patterns, can one meet new situations? Notice that we have agreed with the Behaviorists that all the patterns which are not native and instructive are acquired forms of behavior. Are we then merely the sum-total of what we have learned or is it possible in our behavior to think originally about anything ? Watson says there are two kinds of habits, explicit bodily habits and implicit bodily habits. It is enough to say that by explicit bodily habits he means those movements of our organisms which can be observed by an outside observer. And by implicit habits he means those which are so delicate and difficult to observe that they would pass unnoticed. Chief among the latter he puts sub-vocal talking or thinking. Thinking, to Watson, is simply the formation of implicit language habits. Let us glance at both the explicit and implicit types of habits to see if one is really a victim of either. for instance, the learning of a trade, requiring skill, would all be explicit habit, and there is a sense in which Dr. Watson is correct when he says that fundamentally thinking is no different from any other bodily habit such, for instance, as playing tennis or swimming. Woodworth, in discussing the explicit bodily habits, has something in- teresting to say about learning telegraphy. It was found that individuals reach a certain plateau or degree of skill with practice after a period of training and that so long as the effort continues merely to strengthen and perfect the reflex movements as such, there is very little increase in speed even after tremendous effort in practice. But he says that with some in- dividuals there appears quite suddenly an enormous increase in speed and efficiency. This higher plateau is not reached by practice but is really at- tained by the unconscious formation of new habits. The telegrapher begins to think no longer in specific movements nor even in terms of letters, but he develops a habit of thinking in terms of words or sometfmes whole sentences. This latter habit seems to telescope or short-cut his reflex patterns in such a way that there is a great difference between the telegra- pher who uses this latter method and one who attempts to attain speed and skill merely by practice, a difference which is like that which exists between the scholar and the person who in reading has to spell out every word. This latter habit I call a super-habit. It always appears in some form or other where unusual skill is attained. It is something original on the part of the learner, something which has not come about merely by practice. It is said that Kreisler in memorizing a sonata has developed this super-habit to such a degree that he will quietly sit down and read through the whole piece before he ever touches his violin, and then will play the sonata through by memory. It is this sort of habit formation, something which is not learned from without, that constitutes freedom over one’s technique and gives the highest skill. Now, are there similar super-habits in the implicit bodily movements or sub-vocal talking? I think there are, and that thinking consists in something more than merely retaining or repeating what we have been taught. Just as the moment comes to the telegrapher when he adds new patterns to the process of mere muscular coordination, so in thinking any degree of intellectual freedom, or “thinking for oneself,” consists in the 83 formation of such habits. Probably the greatest difference among men is this difference in habits of thought. There are some minds which behave merely like the mechanic who having learned his trade in a certain way never can function in any other. Recently a student raised the question whether or not a squirrel burying nuts was using intelligence. My answer was no, because the squirrel would try to bury nuts on a wooden floor if he were taken off the ground. Now there are minds which behave in just the same way as does the squirrel. We should all behave that way if our mental habits consisted merely in performing the functions which we had been taught. There are many persons who practice medi- cine and law in this way. The people who vote a party ticket because their fathers were members of a certain party, people whose moral life never rises above mere convention, and people whose religious life con- sists merely in repeating dogmas which they have been taught in childhood, are all people of this type. Now the difficulty with this type is that, like the squirrel and for that matter like every neurotic, “the total reintegration” of the habit pattern frequently fails to bring them into effective relationships with the environ- ment. The squirrel would be all right if he were always kept in the park but his habit of burying nuts is irrelevant when he is placed on the wooden floor. So men with squirrel minds, living in what is for us a continuously changing environment, are persons whose behavior is for the most part irrelevant. “ So in their thinking, men of this type of mind most commonly retain old beliefs long after they have ceased to apply to real situations and most of their gestures and compulsive movements are mo- tivated by considerations that are quite irrelevant to the situations in which behavior is demanded of them. What is it then that enables some men to meet new situations in new ways if not the formation of the super-habits to which I have referred? Earlier in this lecture I mentioned the story quoted by Woodworth of the chimpanzee watching a trained member of his species get the piece of banana out of a tube with a stick. | Woodworth called this learning through observation. This is probably too general a term. But it means the ability to learn, to be taught something, not merely by long practice but by situations which present themselves at the time. What we call observation consists first in an act of inhibition. | The observing mind holds a habit pattern in check until it is released by just the right and appropriate situation. Second, it has the habit of looking into situations to see what elements they contain. This habit has been called analysis. Perhaps when he does respond he will respond in a way which he has learned. That is, he may give a type of response which is the appropriate one, but which he has learned to give to another sort of situation, and which he gives now because, holding the original habit in check, he has had time to see that the situation before him, once analyzed, contains as its significant element something which is for practical purposes similar to and may be identified with, another thing. At first he may not have noticed at all that the situation contained this other thing, but it is a great advantage when one learns to behave toward one thing as if it were something else. There is, for instance, the often-repeated story of Isaac Newton who, it is said, first thought of the law. of gravitation when he saw an apple fall- 84 ing. In other words, what Newton’s mind does is something like this: He says the apple is like the moon, and like the moon in one respect, and that is that they are each attracted to the earth directly as to their mass and inversely as to the square of the distance between them and the earth. This is an amazing likeness and one which would never occur to a person who had formed the habit of thinking of apples in only one way. Newton thinks of the apple in a new way. It is like the moon. Yet the apple is like the moon in many respects, all others of which are insignificant for this purpose. Both are round; both have a part in the literature of love-stories; both may be overhead. And there is nothing in either the apple or the moon which in itself necessitates their being compared in the way that Newton compared them. The ability to make such a comparison was possible only because Newton had devel- oped the super-habits of withholding action in a situation until he had analyzed out the relevant or significant element. Once the significant element is seen one may behave toward it in the way that he has learned. That is, it is an advantage now to Newton to behave toward the moon as if it were an apple. But to see that new and significant likeness ts something which the environment itself will not teach men to do. That requires sagacity; or as James once said, “gumption.” It is, as I have indicated, a super-habit and while, therefore, Watson is probably correct in saying that thinking consists in implicit bodily habits, or sub-vocal talking, yet we see now that this sub-vocal talking is not parrot-like repetition of acquired information. It becomes creative think- ing only where the habit of sagacity enables one to recognize a common element in things which were apparently dissimiliar, and to enrich one’s behavior by behaving toward a new thing as if it were an old one when such behavior puts one in new and more effective relations with that particular thing. So much then for habits. We are not merely the creatures of them. We are in part creators of them, and with them may become sometimes creators of new truths and new facts of human progress. Memory, or the Retention of Habits. So far we have talked about acquiring habits. I wish to say just a word about the retention of habits. Watson very ingeniously points out that the retention of bodily habits is memory. Memory, therefore, is not some mysterious faculty of the soul. It is, as he says, simply the fact that after a period of no practice in certain habits, the function is not lost but is retained as part of the individual’s organization. Other behavior- ists have defined memory as “ delayed responses to stimulus.” Much data has been gathered by experimental psychologists as to the number and kind of things that can be memorized. We do not need to go into this mass of data for it is not relevant to our present study. The treatment of memory as retention of habits is a valuable point of view and does much to get our psychology away from needless mysticism. Perhaps too, it throws light upon the problems which so many people raise of improving one’s memory. The way to improve our memory would seem to be simply to learn our habits well—including the sub-vocal language habits. James regards memory very largely as a bodily habit, though he does not use the word habit in this connection. He treats memory first as primary memory, and second as secondary memory or memory proper. 85 What he says about primary memory would fit in with what behaviorists say about memory. He regards it as basically the property of living matter depending, like habit, upon the plasticity of living tissue. He says that all nerve currents must leave their traces and these, of course, once revived, constitute memory. Also, that because of its plasticity the nervous system does not change as rapidly as do the changes in stimuli in the environment. For instance, there are after-images which Professor Seashore has studied at some length. Then there is a curious haunting of our organisms by impressions after they have ceased to play upon us, as, for instance, the feeling one has after having been on a boat, or after a string has been tied round a finger and then has been removed. From these simple facts James moves on toward the more complicated ones, showing that so far as retentiveness is concerned it consists in this purely physiological fact. This he calls primary memory and this, so far as I can see, is as much as a behaviorist can say on the subject. But James says that memory is more than this. It is not a mere calling up or living through again a certain incident. If we did that completely and simply, we should not even know that we are not living through the event for the first time. Remembering a thing means first that it is associated with my past, and second, that it is given a certain locus in that past; that is, the object of memory is imagined in the past and with the act of imagination there must go an emotion of belief that this particular incident really belongs in the associated past. Of course, the whole past is not recalled. It is reconstructed, and is associated very largely from the standpoint of the present so that the past has essentially a symbolic significance for us. The important thing in remembering, says James, is this matter of association, and also, this habit of associating things is an aid to the memory. Given two persons with the same primary retentiveness, he will remember best who thinks over his experience most, who, therefore, has the largest number of particular facts associated with any particular one. This is about what I mean: to improve one’s memory one simply must learn his habits well. So-called courses which are advertised to improve memory make it appear as if memory were a mysterious faculty to be exercised or a sort of spiritual baby to be wheeled out in the park so that it may keep well and grow stronger. All such ways of looking on memory are pure nonsense and are based upon wrong psychology. Mem- ory does not improve with exercise, for there is nothing to be exercised. Remembering is simply acquiring habits and acquiring them in such a way that they become a fixed part of our organization. ‘Thus, neither in learning habits or in retaining them are we the passive creatures of the past. Through all our habit formation and retention we are not perfecting and securing our hold upon any ideas which are stored up somewhere, but are organizing patterns of action in which there are retained significant elements all of which become instruments for living. LECTURE Vil Human Nature and the Problems of Instinct. FN its Gh v3 fh ERR a SORT ay ate Pay vn 4 id : Meets MAA in gh rae oa AS a Saae mn e HUMAN NATURE AND INSTINCT. HE problem of instinct, like that of consciousness, is a conttoversial one for modern psychologists. This was not the case with the older philosophers. Instinct was conceived of as something quite the opposite of reason. Both instinct and reason were divine gifts, endowments which a benevolent Creator had showered upon mortal beings for the purpose of guiding them through life. Man, the highest work of His hand, He had equipped with reason in order that man might know Him, and that a few, at least, ultimately might share eternal glory with Him. Reason, however, was fallible and prone to error, and in the end faith was a better guide. Instinct He had given to animals. It was a marvellous and mysteri- ous thing, a proof of divine providence and of “design” in the world. Men wondered at the behavior of bees; at the accuracy with which they constructed honey-comb. They saw in the nest-making activity of birds and in their migratory instincts evidences of a cosmic plan and of a divine hand leading all living things in the way that they should go. How intricate and accurate many of the things that animals did appeared and yet how little knowledge or calculation these creatures seemed to show. Surely a kind-hearted Deity in His plan of creation had taken the wel- fare of all these forms of life into account. The existence of instinct was utilized by older theologians, therefore, as a “ teleological” argument. To their minds it seemed to prove that in all things in nature there were evidences that the created world was the work of an over-ruling and all-comprehending intelligence, The Effect of Evolutionism Upon Theories of Instinct. The evolutionism of the 19th century has completely changed this view. Teleology, or purpose, is no longer regarded as something universal and imposed upon nature from without; no longer a proof that there is somewhere a deus ex machina. In its place we have organic activity, response to stimulus, adaptation of concrete organisms to their environ- ment, struggle for existence, and that interesting fact discovered by Darwin of the interdependence of species. Instinct, like all other phenomena of life, has been brought within the scope of organic evolution and is regarded merely as a form of animal behavior, a product of natural selection. Life is essentially active. Activity is as elemental as structure. In a sense we may say that structure is the effect of certain of life’s activi- ties. The structure of an organism at any time is but a cross-section of its process of growth, and just as organisms, according to Darwin, vary accidentally in respect to the inherited forms of their structure, by the same law of variation they differ congenitally and accidentally in their tendencies to behave. Just as those accidental advantages of structure give certain creatures a better opportunity to survive in the struggle for existence and just as in the same struggle those organisms whose varia- tions throw them out of harmony with the environment are killed off before maturity, so with the variations in native behavior trends or instincts. Instinct is not an endowment; it is not the result of inherited habit. An instinct is like a bodily organ, an accidental variation in the life process [89] A which has been preserved by the impersonal operation of natural selection. And because instinctive factors, like structural elements, are original accidents of birth or “ congenital variations,’ they may be inherited, and the accumulation of such inheritance finally constitutes the instinctive behavior of a living species, animal or human. Moreover, careful study discloses the fact that animals are not entirely the creatures of instinct. They, like ourselves, can learn. They develop habits and would seem to show in much of their activity evidences of a certain crude reasoning. A young bird, for instance, even though it has inherited the instinct to fly, must yet learn to fly through a process which is as difficult for it as learning to talk and to walk are difficult for a human infant. You have doubtless many times been a witness of that educational process in the bird species, when the young fledgeling first leaves the nest and the parents with a great clatter and much excitement are teaching it to fly. This learning process, according to many animal psychologists, is a necessary part of the education of a vast number of insects and of the lower, as well as higher animals. It has also been discovered that man, instead of being the rational creature that earlier philosophers thought he was, is not at all governed by reason in the way that they imagined. One of the important discoveries of modern psychology is that man is not a very reasonable being. Man was found to have an enormous number of instincts. James says that the human being has more instincts than a monkey. It is said that while man has more instinctive trends than the lower animals, these instincts are by no means so perfectly organized in man, and therefore, while man does more things instinctively, he does none of them so well or correctly. Man’s instinctive patterns are all over-laid and modified—* conditioned,” as we saw in an earlier lecture, by habit, and by some degree of intelligent consideration. When James wrote his chapter on In&Stinct he really did a revolutionary service for psychology. In showing that man is a less rational being than pre-evolutionary philosophers had imagined him to be, he was, without realizing it, preparing the way for Freud and other psychopathologists who have shown us that human behavior is to an enormous extent unconsciously determined. While many Freudians still feel that this unconscious determination is rooted in our primal instincts such as sex, nutrition, self-preservation, and gregariousness, it is not necessary for us to conclude that such is wholly the case. These large terms used by Freudians are rather abstract, and it is doubtful if they represent anything more than the most incipient and highly modified sur- vivals of what may have been originally instinctive trends. In the unconscious, instincts are so confused, inhibited and overlaid with repressive modifications, that it is, as we shall see, impossible to isolate any pure instinctive tendencies. The Recent Over Emphasis of Instinct by Social Psychologists. However this may be, the emphasis upon instinct since James’s day, has been very great, especially among social psychologists. As one author said, once it was found that man was not a wholly reasonable being, “it has rained instinct.” Scholars have tried to explain everything by instinct. They have felt that when they could say that any persistent and wide-spread human interest was an inherited disposition to do a 91 certain thing, ot in other words, an instinct, they were telling wus something very significant and important about it. I think there is some- thing tautological about this tendency in social psychology. I am not sure that we get very much new insight into parenthood, for instance, when one says that it is a manifestation of the “ parental instinct.” The same is true of religion, politics, sex, and industry. We need something much more specific than the attempt to reduce the main lines of human interest and activity to some broad general instinctive disposition. Yet, Professor McDougall says, “ We may say, then, that directly or indirectly the instincts are the prime movers of all human activity; by the conative or impulsive force of some instinct (or of some habit derived from an instinct), every train of thought, however cold and passionless it may seem, is borne along towards its end, and every bodily activity is initiated and sustained. The instinctive impulses determine the ends of all activities and supply the driving power by which all mental activities are sustained; and all the complex intellectual apparatus of the most highly developed mind is but a means towards these ends, is but the instrument by which these impulses seek their satisfaction, while pleasure and pain do but serve to guide them. in their choice of the means.” So there has been an attempt to explain almost everything human as a manifestation of some specific instinct. Ames and others try to explain religion as a combination of the instincts of sex, food, and grega- riousness. Trotter has tried to explain almost the whole of civilization in terms of the “instinct of the herd.” Others have tried to explain war as a simple expression of the “instinct of pugnacity.” Freudians have sought to reduce everything to the instinct of sex. And Veblen, following McDougall, has tried to give us an account of the development of the economic interest in society in terms of the so-called “ instinct of workmanship.” As I have indicated, social psychology, with the excep- tion of the few writers who seek to approach the subject from the stand- point of habits as does Dewey in his book, “ Human Nature and Conduct” (or as do Freud and a few others, from the standpoint of psycho- pathology), is almost obsessed with the concept of instinct. To my mind, at least, this concept has been so over-worked and (in general) so confused that it has very little value anymore. I do not see how it can serve us greatly either as an adequate account of individual or social behavior or as a criterion by which we may distinguish the normal from the abnormal. Confusion in Regard to the Concept of Instinct. Let us now notice some examples of this confusion. First, there seems to be little agreement as to just what are the instincts in man; and second, there seems to be great difference of opinion as to the definition of instinct. James’s list of instincts is rather extensive. It is probably the longest list there is. Here are some of the instincts which he finds: sneezing, snoring, sobbing, gagging, vomiting, hiccoughing, crying, laugh- ing, starting, moving the limbs when tickled, touched or blown upon. These he calls the simpler reflex movements. Then there are sucking, biting, making grimaces, licking, spitting out, clasping, pointing, making noises, carrying things to the mouth, smiling, turning the head, sitting up, stand- ing, locomotion, vocalization, imitation, rivalry, pugnacity sympathy. 92 hunting, feat, acquisitiveness, play, constructiveness, curiosity, secretive- ness, cleanliness, modesty and shame, love, jealousy, parental love. It will be seen that in this list there is no clear distinction between instincts and emotions. Fear, jealousy, sympathy and many aspects of love, as well as shame and modesty, would seem to belong to the realm of feelings rather than of actions, and James says that an instinct is an inherited tendency to act in a characteristic way while an inherited tendency to feel is characterized as emotion. Obviously, too, there must be a great differ- ence between an instinct like parental love, which is very complicated and may dominate most of the behavior of an individual throughout many years of his maturer life, and a simple instinct like sneezing or biting. Yet James does not seem to make it clear what this difference is or why such different things should be described under the same head. Professor McDougall’s list of instincts is somewhat different. Per- haps McDougall, more than any other contemporary psychologist, is the exponent of the role that instinct plays in human behavior. He has tried to classify the instincts, and in so doing he assumes that each instinct is somehow necessarily connected with a certain emotion, and that the two together constitute a “ disposition.” The emotion he calls the “affect” of the instinct by which he means the feeling side of it. There is, first, the instinct of flight with the accompanying emotion of fear; second, the instinct of repulsion and the emotion of disgust; third, the instinct of curiosity and the emotion of wonder; fourth, the instinct of pugnacity and the emotion of anger; fifth, the instinct of self-abasement and the negative self-feeling (sometimes called the feeling of self-depreciation) ; sixth, the instinct of self-assertion and the emotion of positive self-feeling (sometimes called egoism or the emotion of self-appreciation) ; eighth, the parent instinct and the tender emotion. Then there are three instincts, according to McDougall, in which there are no definite inherited emotions. They are the instinct of reproduction, the gregarious instinct, and the instinct of constructiveness. This list of instincts, though very specific and almost uncritically accepted by many social psychologists, raises a good many questions. Curiosity, for instance, may be regarded as a phase of the intellect rather than as an inherited tendency to act. It may be questioned why McDougall leaves out such instincts as the hunting instinct and the homing instinct which, according to Thorndike, are very important. So also the instinct of migration; and the instinct of collecting and hoarding which, according to many psychol- ogists, is the basis of the ownership of property among men. Again, one is impelled to question whether each of these so-called instincts is anything more than a pure abstraction. James says that a very common way of talking about these admirably definite tendencies to act (instincts) is by naming abstractly the purpose they serve, such as self-preservation or defense or the care for eggs and young. Thus, the animal has an instinctive fear of death or love of life or an instinct of self-preservation or an instinct of maternity, and the like. But this repre- sents the animal as obeying abstractions which not once in a million cases is it possible it can have framed. The strict psychological way of inter- preting the facts leads to far clearer results. The actions we call instinc- tive all conform to the general reflex type. ‘They are called forth by 93 determinate sensory stimuli in contact with the animal’s body or at a distance in his environment. . . . “He acts in each case separately and simply because he cannot help it. . . . Is each thing born fitted to some particular things and to them exclusively, as locks are fitted to their keys? Undoubtedly this must be believed to be so.” Here James would seem to be fairly close to the position which we shall shortly see as that of Dr. John B. Watson. Whether or not Professor McDougall has substituted abstractions for these concrete responses in his classification of instincts, he seems at least to have done so in coupling with each instinct a certain emotion or “ affect.” It is open to question whether naturally our instincts and emotions are really coupled in this way. For instance, is the emotion of fear neces- sarily associated with the instinct of flight? Undoubtedly it is at times, but there seem to be many fears which have nothing to do with flight; in fact, the Freudians frequently say that this emotion is the result of inhibited sexuality, especially in anxiety dreams. Rivers points to the fact that fear is most intense when flight is impossible; and there are many cases when successful flight, instead of being associated with fear, carries with it a certain feeling of elation. The same may be said of McDougall’s coupling pugnacity with anger. Nietzche showed that the most intense hatred may exist among the meek and apparently loving. He speaks of “impotent revenge” and shows how it gives rise to certain ideals which he characterizes as “ weapons” of the meek. When we come to consider the parental instinct, is not the phrase, the “tender emotions,’ altogether too general? Undoubtedly infants do make some such emotional appeal to normal adults, but certainly not always, even to their own parents. I should say that with the parental instinct, if there is such an instinct, as well as with other instincts, which McDougall has listed, there normally goes not one specific affect, but a very large number of confused emotional states. A third psychologist, Rivers, to whom I referred earlier in the course, also gives a list of instincts which we should consider. Dr. W. H. R. Rivers, late of Cambridge University, England, was one of the most brilliant of the newer school of social psychology in his country. He was an anthropoli- gist, a doctor of medicine, and a psycho-analyst. Shortly before his death he wrote an extremely interesting book entitled “ Instinct and the Uncon- scious.” In this book, as well as in his last book published since his recent death, he had something to say about instinct. It would seem that he does just what James argued one should not do. He classifies instincts under three heads: First, the instinct of self-preservation, under which he places nutrition, hunting, curiosity, and the danger group which consists of flight, aggression, manipulation, and immobility. Second, there are the instincts of the continuance of the race, under which he places the sex instinct and the parental instinct. Third, there are the instincts for the preservation or cohesion of the group and under this instinct he places gregariousness which is composed of suggestion, sympathy, intuition, and imitation. We will discuss this last or gregarious instinct later. It should be noticed in passing that Rivers classes as instinctive such forms of action as curiosity, immobility, suggestion, sympathy, and imita- 94 tion. It is clear that there is a difference between these forms of action and behavior trends such as hunting and sex. Rivers’ classification is highly arbitrary. Are there not suggestion and sympathy in sex as truly as in “ gregariousness”” ? And can the parental instinct with the outgrowth of family into the tribe be wholly separated from the group instinct? Does curiosity belong to self-preservation any more than to our re-action to sex- ual objects and to society? And is not self-preservation so highly general and abstract that it means almost everything and, therefore, practically nothing? It will be seen that among the writers quoted not only is the classifi- cation of instincts confused and open to question, but there is no clear definition as to what instinct really is. James seems to hold that in- stinctive acts are of the nature of specific responses, by which organisms are fitted to the facts of their environment, like keys to locks; that these responses are multitudinous, and that about the only generalization we can make is that “ every creature naturally loves its own ways.’ McDou- gall classifies instincts according to the general lines of activity and feeling of which an organism is capable. And Rivers classifies instincts teleologically, that is, according to the ends that such activity serves, “ self- preservation,” “ reproduction” and “ cohesion of the group.” Professor Hocking has recently called attention to the confusion of definition. He says, “ The common use of the term instinct is not embar- rassed by the fact that its meaning is hybrid. It means a mode of behavior and it means a mode of interest, and for ordinary purposes the mixture of physical ingredients and mental ingredients makes no trouble and requires no explanation. But when a technical definition is sought such mixtures are no longer satisfactory; a concept must have a fixable character, not a dual personality. Yet the effort to reach a clear and distinct idea of instinct, commonly results in a dilemma. When the defini- tion does justice to all that instinct means in physical terms, it fails to fit what instinct means in mental terms, and vice-versa. When either pln is securely nailed down, the other warps up and refuses to fall into place.” This will be easily seen if we note the different definitions of instinct which are current among psychologists. James says, “ Instinct is usually defined as a faculty of acting in such a way as to produce certain ends without foresight of the ends and without previous education in the performance.” Notice that in this definition knowledge or learning plays no part. Bergson, however, says, “If instinct is above all the faculty of using an organized natural instrument, it must involve innaie knowl- edge (potential or unconscious, it is true) both of this instrument and of the object to which it is brought; instinct is, therefore, innate knowledge of athing. . . . Instinct is sympathy.” It will be seen at once that this is a highly mystical concept of instinct. McDougall’s definition would seem to contain something of both of these points of view. He says, “ We may define an instinct as an inherited or innate psycho-physical disposition which determines its possessor to perceive and to pay attention to objects of a certain class and to experience an emotional excitement of a particular quality upon perceiving such an oS object and to act in regard to it in a particular manner, or at least to experience an impulse to such action.” It will be seen that far from separating instinct either from intelligence, or from emotion and habit, McDougall’s definition involves the necessity of assuming as part of in- stinct, perception, emotion, and will. Perhaps Dr. Watson has provided a way of escape from this confusion. Watson defines instinct as “an inherited re-action pattern, the separate elements of which are organized in unstriped muscle tissue.” Dr. John B. Watson's Study of Instinct. From this “ behaviorist point of view” the problem of instinct is not only one of instinct versus intelligence, but of instinct versus habit. This statement of the case would seem to give us justification for inquiring into the problem of how instinct differs from habit. What is the problem of instinct if it is not that of learning what are the native and inherited traits of man and what are the acquired traits? Acquired traits are not inherit- able; they are modifiable by experience and training. As social customs they constitute those habits which make up the bulk of our civilization and social order, our ethics and religion. In so far as these things are based upon acquired traits or habits they are modifiable, at least to some extent. The question of instinct, therefore, has very practical significance for us because it involves the question, how much in our social as well as personal behavior is improvable? Of course, those forms of response which are inherited belong to the species precisely in the same way that its inherited bodily structure belongs to it. Therefore, these inherited modes of response or instincts, being part of the inheritance of the human species, will appear in all its normal members generation after generation, regardless of the amount of training the individuals in their life time may receive. They may be modified and repressed by social convention but they cannot be trained out of the race. They are what men talk about when they speak of “human nature,’ and undoubtedly their existence must defeat the attempt at any forms of social advance which are in too great a conflict with them. How, then, are we to know what human nature is? Dr. Watson sought the answer to this problem in the careful observation of those modes of response which a baby brings with it when it comes into the world. All other modes of response must either be in themselves habits or must be habitual modifications of instincts. Perhaps no one has so carefully observed the behavior of small chil- dren as did Watson in the laboratory at Johns Hopkins. Almost every movement that hundreds of children made day after day throughout their first year was noted and recorded. At first most of the infant’s movements were just random movements which early in the life of the child come to be organized into more specific and useful ways of behavior. These co- ordinations are the early acquired modes of response. There are, however, certain reflexes which have an instinctive basis, such as turning the head, sucking, sneezing, crying, blinking, grasping, etc. This grasping reflex is interesting because itis later lost. A small child only an hour old will support its weight for several minutes hanging by one hand. After a few days the child no longer has the ability to do this. And after the first few months, our author tells us, the instincts of a child are so modified by what it has learned that the original patterns are no longer 96 discernable. Watson says that most of the lists of instincts that appear in the writings of psychologists are really consolidations of instinct and habit. The approach to this subject made by Watson has one singular advantage and that is the suggestion that when discussing the existence of any particular instinct in man we should look for the inherited re-action pattern. Of course, there are instincts which appear so late in the life of the individual that it is impossible to say just what re-action patterns are inherited, as would be the case when we study small children. It is more than likely that when these inherited patterns do make their appear- ance late in life, as for instance the instinct of sex in adolescence or the so-called parental instinct, the individual has already acquired before the appearance of the instinct, certain very definite habits regarding it. Important as the subject of instinct is, one should learn from Dr. Watson to avoid the danger of assuming that there is a specific instinct for every persistent and general human interest or behavior trend. As C. E. Ayres says, “ Instinct in man has been defined in terms as remote as possible from those that delineate the stereotyped re-action patterns of animals. ‘Instinctive impulses’ determine not the character of the be- havior, but “the ends’ of all activities and supply the driving power by which all mental activities are sustained. This emphasis upon the ‘end’ of the activity rather than upon the form of the act suggests as its accompaniment the definition of instinct as ‘a disposition’ which determines its possessor to perceive and to attend to an object of a certain class. . . . In-short, instinct in man is his disposition to behave in whatever way he may behave. . . . If you conceive the end of urban life to be sociability then you can classify it as ‘ gregarious’; if you con- ceive it to be economic, then it is ‘acquisitive,’ or “proprietory’ (or due to an instinct for unearned increment). In this sense the most solidly based of the human instincts is Mr. Kantor’s ‘Instinct to die,’ for, as he points out, death is the ‘ end’ of all activity.” While this criticism is perhaps a little facetious, there is a point in it. If you take any other than a behaviorist view of instinct and think of instincts as ends rather than as patterns, then why not an instinct for mathematics, an instinct to go to the 10c store, to look in a mirror, to talk about people behind their backs; an instinct to destroy, to loaf, to make noises on New Year’s eve, and an instinct to violate the Volstead Act? Let us consider some three or four of the so-called “ instincts ” which psychologists, viewing the matter in this way, believe throw some light upon human behavior. There is, for instance, the so-called instinct of “ acquisition,” or the instinct to acquire and hold property. Surely this is a very general human interest. But has man any such instinct as a pure and specific inherited element in his psychic life? Dr. W. H. R. Rivers believed that he had, though he thought that the instinct of acquisi- tion could be modified to some extent. Perhaps the facts of cleptomania and of miserliness would indicate some sort of inherited pattern since there is something rather stereotyped and uniform in the behavior of most cleptomaniacs and of most misers. But cleptomania and miserliness are really psychopathic forms of behavior and need further analysis. 97 When we consider the patterns which men reveal in the normal acquisition of property and the many ways by which they hoard and save, we must see that patterns here are very diverse and since they include almost the whole of our financial and industrial behavior, they are acquired rather than inherited forms of response. If man, as seems to be the case, came out of the pre-human state with his basic instinctive patterns already formed by evolution, it is doubtful if there could be any such instinct as that of acquisition, since property is a social institution and came into the world many thousands of years after man’s instinctive behavior patterns had been evolved. Personally I can find very little that is helpful to the understanding of man’s attitude toward property when I read the words of those who would explain this human interest as merely a manifestation of the instinct of acquisition. Again, there is the so-called “ gregarious instinct,” which most English and American social psychologists practically worship. Perhaps this in- stinct may exist in man to some small degree. We are companionable animals. But if we look for the behavior patterns of gregariousness, I think, we shall be lead to the conclusion that it is impossible to draw the enormous inferences from this instinct which some social psychologists seem to draw. If we compare man to gregarious animals we find that there are practically three behavior patterns which characterize the herd instinct of the latter. ‘There is first the pattern of huddling together; second, the tendency to run in the same direction; and third, the ten- dency to remain within sight of the other members of the group. All these patterns may exist in the social behavior of man. But surely they would not in themselves give rise to the many conventions and restraints of civilization. They do not build institutions, nor do they give rise to public opinion; in fact, very few of the things which Trotter or McCurdy or Rivers would explain by this instinct have anything to do with it. Rivers believed, as we saw above, that the herd instinct consists of suggestion, sympathy, and imitation. Suggestion can hardly be regarded as an instinctive thing. In fact, “suggestion” has frequently been used by psychopathologists in a very mystical sense. About all we can say about it is that it is the abstraction of attention in such a manner that all ideas or impulses which are contrary to a certain definite one held in mind are inhibited. We have no right to say that animals manifest suggestion. Sympathy again is an emotion and “imitation” probably does not exist at all. When animals behave similarly it is probably because they are very much alike and happen to be in an environment which stimulates them in much the same way. The normal forms of social behavior are not original instinctive endowments. They consist, as Dewey said, of habits of mutual adjustment. We have to be social because there are so many of us and we are per- manently in one another’s environments—in one another’s way. And it is necessary, if we are to adapt ourselves to an environment made up of other people, that we bring some degree of stability and predictability in to our common behavior. So much for the over-worked instinct of gregariousness. Another exaggeration of instinct is to be found in the discussion of the so-called ‘instinct of workmanship,” such as that of Professor 98 Veblen’s book which has this phrase as its title. If we keep in mind the fact that an instinct is an inherited mode of response of the pattern re-action type, then we must see that man inherits no labor patterns. A trade must be learned. It is a matter of habit-formation and it is even doubtful if men have an inherited inclination to work. Personally I do not think we do. My own observation would rather confirm the notion that everybody has a natural interest to get out of work if he can. Not everyone who loves “Labor” loves work. It is significant that none of the gods which humanity has created for itself have been imagined as working. Of course, it is said that Jehova during the six days “ worked ’”’—but he merely spoke or thought things into existence. Vulcan, the working god of the Greeks, was always regarded as ridiculous. Holy days like the Sabbath are days on which men are forbidden to work. The myths and legends of antiquity, as Patrick says, never picture folk- heroes as workers; they always picture them as adventurers, fighters, lovers, and loafers. Finally, there is the so-called “ parental instinct.” It is obvious that whatever may be the inherited element in this instinct, there are so many patterns necessary to its operation, and by the time the adult individual reaches parenthood, his whole life is so much a matter of habit, that it 1s impossible to say how much of his behavior is inherited and how much is acquired. All the manifold acts of courtship, of mating; all the ego interests that accompany the wish to be admired, and all the forms of protection and labor by which, during the period of infancy, the new generation is safe-guarded and supported; all the activities of habituation and home-making, and all the adjustments which are necessary throughout the life of a married couple, would pertain to this so-called instinct. Clearly the psychological fallacy of lumping all these manifold activities together under the common term “ instinct of parenthood ” tells us precisely nothing. So the attempt to discuss the subject of instinct in terms of the ends rather than of the patterns of behavior tells us very little about human nature. In fact, it assumes the very thing that is sets out to explain. If, however, we regard an instinct as an inherited pattern, we may be able, to some degree, to determine which are the basic facts of human nature and which forms of activity are environmental, acquired, and modifiable. Moreover, once we are able to isolate the true patterns of an instinct we may be able to discover which habit-modifications of that pattern are normal and wholesome adjustments to the environment and which are psychopathic. The Control and Inhibition of Instincts. This leads us to the consideration of the control and inhibition of instincts. Obviously, if what we have said above is correct, instincts in man cannot operate in the automatic and inevitable fashion that they do in animals. We live in a very complicated environment and among ever-changing situations. The unmodified appearance of any instinct in the presence of its appropriate stimulus would result in disaster for us, for such action would be like the performance of a habit in situations where, taken as a whole, such performance would be irrelevant. Rivers showed that the suppression of instinct is a basic fact in human and animal tee) life. The famous Rivers-Head experiment, which I described in the second lecture, throws some light on this matter. You will remember, the nerves of Dr. Head’s arms were cut in such a way that they were many months in healing and and restoring their function. As the nerves began to heal a stage was reached when a stimulus to Dr. Head’s hand was felt over a much wider area of the surface of the skin than is normally the case. And there was not only a greater diffusion but there were also other factors which had not appeared in normal sensation. It seemed to Rivers and Head, therefore, that when the function of the nerves was restored to normal something primal and original was lost or repressed. This primal general feeling tone they called protopathic, and the repression of it which came with complete healing they called epicritic sensation be- cause this latter brought with it specific awareness and greater definitness of feeling and of response. What Rivers and Head found in sensations they also discovered in bodily movements. Protopathic movements or response are random move- ments like those that characterize emotional excitement. They were not adaptive. And they tend, if excited at all, to greater activity than the situation or stimulus normally requires. This latter type of behavior psy- chologists call the all-or-none principle. Finally, protopathic response is like protopathic sensation—spread over a very wide bodily area, resulting in the movement not of a definite organ, but of the body as a whole. This they called mass re-action. Rivers says that protopathic behavior is the original form of response to stimulus and constitutes the basic element in instinct. There are no patterns in the protopathic elements of instinct. Neither is the protopathic directed toward any ends. It is simply a universal urge or drive, and when it is dissociated from one pattern it will assume others. Here probably we have a psycho-physical basis of what Freudians call the “ unconscious ”—also perhaps the original element in what Woodworth calls the “ drive.”’ As living forms evolved, the epicritic more and moré suppressed the original protopathic quality of behavior. Otherwise there never could have been any sort of specific response or pattern re-action. The pattern re-actions, therefore, belong to the epicritic and creatures even far down in the scale of animal life, as well as man, are organized by nature in such a way that the protopathic urge or drive is, in many ways, repressed and utilized and remains merely as the motivating force back of the behavior patterns. ‘ With man many additional behavior patterns must be acquired. Each acquired pattern is a new habit learned and each is a form of repression or inhibition of instinct. When, therefore, men argue for freedom from the inhibition of instincts they are often arguing for that which is psycho- logically impossible. As psychologists we are concerned, however, with the disguises which the protopathic urge or unconscious assumes when it is repressed by a very heavy crust of habit formation. Perhaps if we consider the protopathic itself it is the same in all instincts, whether ego or sex or food or gregariousness, and that from the standpoint of the protopathic there is only one instinctive urge. From the standpoint of the epicritic, the number of instincts 1s indefinite and incapable of classification. Moreover, as Kantor suggests, from this stand- 100 point there would seem to be little difference, except in the amount of inhibition, between an epicritic repression which is inherited, and one which is acquired by habit. Successful repression is the true psychological aim and the criterion of behavior must be found here. Where repression is unsuccessful, the protopathic trends escape in new mechanisms of disguise, in the manner that the Freudians have showed us, and it is here more than anywhere else that we need both socially and individually to understand ourselves. In conclusion, we have seen that psychologists seem to be confused in regard to instincts. They would appear to be correct in holding that intelligence plays a smaller role in human behavior than was formerly believed to be the case. They are correct in taking an evolutionist view of human nature and in seeking to distinguish between those behavior trends which are native and those which are acquired. They would seem to be in error whenever they strive to specify certain definite instincts in terms of the ends which those instincts serve. The ends then become mere arbitrary abstractions. Again if we look upon instincts, as Watson does, in terms of the re-action patterns which they show, we see that it is extremely difficult and perhaps in many cases unnecessary to try to differ- entiate instinct from habit. But the truth persists, as James says, that human beings, like other living things, like their own ways and will strive to persist in them, LECTURE VIli Man and his Emotions. MAN AND HIS EMOTIONS ISCUSSIONS of emotion are often prejudiced by what one thinks of human nature in general. Plato, in the dialogue, “ The Republic,” assigns to emotion a very secondary place in human nature and 1s con- cerned chiefly with the ways in which emotion should be controlled. He says, in substance, that the soul has three faculties: the reason, the emo- tions, and the desires of the body. These three faculties are, to Plato, similar to the three classes in his ideal social system or state. The highest class, the ruling class, consists of the noble philosophers, the knowing ones, who because they have knowledge are the true rulers of the State. The second class, which consists of spirited men, fighters, administrators, and the like, is of a less intelligent type and should be controlled by its superiors for it is necessary for the preservation of the community. Beneath this class is the plebeian class, the business men and the workers. Plato’s idea of justice is very different from ours. To him justice is har- mony within the State or, in other words, the successful working out of the stratified order of society which I have just sketched. So in the soul harmony should prevail and such harmony means that there should be recognized a class distinction between the faculties of the soul. Reason comes first and is to rule. Emotions are second and they must be controlled by reason. This emphasis upon the control of emotion by reason is very common in philosophy. A thinker as far removed from Plato as was David Hume in the 18th century shared this view. He speaks of emotions as the “ passions,” and he was opposed to many of the popular movements of his time because he felt that the crowd was too emotional. As he put it, the behavior of the crowd is characterized by “‘ enthusiasm ” rather than by reason. Similarly, many conservative thinkers have looked upon the masses as mere creatures of emotion. Contrasted with this view is that of Romanticism. Romanticism was primarily a cultural or artistic movement during the latter part of the 18th and early part of the 19th centuries. But Romanticism had a cer- tain psychological outlook. The Romanticists were very much concerned about the emotional life. To them emotion was of primary importance. They conceived of freedom as the expression of emotion. The life of reason was a mere dead formality. The value of life consisted in its emotional possibilities. Thus the Romanticist reversed the view of emo- tion and reason which Plato and the older philosophers held. I think the chief factor which motivated these different views of emotion was the different attitudes toward human nature. The Platonists, like the theolo- gians, sought to subordinate human nature to eternal principles. They were in a way constantly on their guard against the humanity in them- selves. The Romanticist was a humanitarian, if not a humanist. To his mind human nature was essentially good, and, therefore, he demanded freer expression of it through various emotional outlets. Needless to say, each of these views is unpsychological. We cannot approach a problem like this from the standpoint of a made-in-advance [103] 104 theory. As students of psychology we are not concerned here with the “goodness” or “badness” of the emotional life in general. We know nothing of the “soul and its faculties,’ nor of “pure” reason. Neither is it possible for us to isolate emotion and talk in the manner of the Romanticist about emotional satisfaction, as if emotions could be indulged without regard to consequences, or with indifference to the situations in which we find ourselves. Our criterion must not be merely subjective feel- ing about human nature, but adequacy of adjustment. Our method must be descriptive. We should regard emotion as a form of reflex action. James says, “Instinctive reactions and emotional expressions thus shade imperceptibly into each other. Every object that excites an instinct excites an emotion as well. Emotions, however, fall short of instincts, in that emotional reaction usually terminates in the subject's own body, whilst the instinctive reaction is apt to go farther and enter into practical relations with the exciting object.” To McDougall and many others emotions are essentially instinctive. They are, for the most part, regarded as affects of certain instinctive trends. According to this view, as we saw in the lecture on instinct, each instinctive reaction is coupled with a certain feeling tone or affect: as for instance, the instinct of flight and the emotion of fear, the instinct of pugnacity and the emotion of anger. What we said in criticism of this view in the previous lecture applies here. The list of emotions, like that of instincts, is arbitrary. And I suspect that when we talk about “ fear” or “anger” or any other feeling in this way, we are really substituting abstract ideas for the facts of experience. James says, “ The trouble with emotions in psychology is that they are regarded too much as absolutely individual things. So long as they are set down as so many eternal and sacred psychic entities, like the old immutable species in natural history, so long all that can be done with them is reverently to catalogue their separate points and affects.” He adds, “As far as ‘ scientific psychology ’ of the emotions goes, I may have been surfeited by too much reading of classic works on the subject. But I should as lief read verbal descriptions of the rocks on a New Hampshire farm as toil through them again.” Since James’s time, a physiological approach to the subject has given us an entirely different point of view regarding the emotions, one which makes the subject vastly more interesting and important. And James him- self did much to contribute to this new view. He divided emotions into what he called the “ coarser ” emotions, such as we have in our more vio- lent feelings, and the more “ subtle’ emotions, such as religious reverence and appreciation of beauty. In substance, James maintained that both types of emotion are pure bodily feelings. Not psychic entities, therefore, but sensations stimulated by purely physical changes set going in the va- tious organs of our body, constitute emotions, even the loftiest of them. There is no “ spiritual faculty’ of emotion. There is no organ or seat of emotion in the brain. People who talk about “training the emotions” as if emotions were something which could be developed by exercise, are simply talking nonsense. Training emotions consists in the formation of habits, not so much habits of feeling as habits of thinking through which our emotional reactions are adequately released. 105 The James-Lange Theory of Emotion. Let us see what James contributed to the psychology of emotion. He says, “ Bodily changes follow directly the perception of the exciting ob- ject. . . Our feeling of the same changes as they occur, ts the emotion.” In other words, when, for instance, we see a terrifying object, we do not perceive the object, then have an emotion known as fear, and then, because we are afraid, have certain bodily feelings. There is no reason for the intervention of this middle psychological entity at all. We are so organized by nature that, just as when a hungry animal sees food the immediate reflex response to such a stimulus is the secretion of saliva, so when we see the terrifying object there are physiological changes which wmmediately follow—the trembling of the arms and legs, the parched sensa- tion in the mouth and throat, due to the checking of the function of the saliva glands, a creeping sensation of the skin, rapid pulse, the catching of the breath, etc., etc. All these bodily changes follow immediately on the stimulus and are as purely reflex in their nature as is the ringing of an electric bell when a button is pushed which closes the circuit. These bodily changes are not the result or the effect of emotion; they are the emotion. As James says, we do not run away because we are afraid; we are afraid because we run; or better, because of the impulse to run together with the physiological changes which are in preparation for strenuous bodily activity. He says that objects excite bodily changes by a pre-organized mechanism and that the changes are so idefinitely numerous and subtle that the entire or- ganism may be called a “sounding board.’ These changes are felt di- rectly or obscurely the moment they occur. They are going on in us all the time as the body is stimulated by this or that object and they constitute the feeling-reactions which go on during every moment of our experience. James says that if we fancy some emotion and then try to abstract from our consciousness of it the feelings of its bodily symptoms, we find we have nothing left. For instance, should you stand in the presence of a terrifying object and find that you had no trembling of the muscles, no catching of the breath, no creeping sensation of the skin or “ goose flesh,” no change in breathing or in the pulse rate, you would say correctly “I am not afraid of this thing.’ The same is true of grief or of love or of joy or of humor. Think of any one of these emotions; then think away all the bodily sensations and you will find yourself merely holding in con- sciousness an abstract idea and not an emotion at all. The theory of emotion which I have just tried to state is known as the “ James-Lange”’ theory. There has been some criticism of it of late, but I do not think that it has been successfully challenged. Certainly much that is being said about the subject now would seem to confirm it. Of course, as James said, the theory cannot be absolutely proved until we find a number of cases of individuals who are perfectly conscious yet are in such an anaesthetic stage that they have no sensations of the changes going on in their bodies. One or two such cases have been reported and they would seem to confirm the theory. But they still may be questioned on the ground that such an anaesthetic state is very difficult to determine. Cannon reports that physiologists have made experiments on dogs and cats but without very positive results. However, on the whole, I think, the weight of the evidence would be on James’s side. 106 Another class of evidence which James points out is that of certain psychopathic cases. There are certain abnormal individuals who ex- perience the most violent emotional excitement when there is no outside stimulus present. A person suffering with melancholia may experience great depression; others will experience fear or anxiety, for all of which there is no apparent cause other than the processes which are going on in the patient’s own bodily organs. One of James’s conclusions from his theory is, I think, open to some criticism, though he himself qualified it. He says that if one wishes to control his emotions he should put himself in the requisite bodily situations as nearly as possible and “ cold-bloodedly ” and deliberately imitate the bodily states of the desired emotion. It is very doubtful if this can be done successfully. Some actors tell us that they actually do experience the emotion which they simulate. But in all prob- ability the emotions are such “ pattern reflex’ responses that nothing like a complete bodily emotional state can be deliberately assumed. Some of the factors will be left out; the feeling will not be genuine. Emotion and Evolution. So far our discussion has dealt with what James calls our’ “ coarser ” emotions. If the theory is true regarding these, it must also be true in re- gard to the finer and more subtle, “spiritual” feelings associated with religion, duty, and art. These emotions, also, in so far as they are emo- tions, and not mere ideas about emotions, even though the feelings them- selves are very subtle, are as truly physical as the others. Emotion then, like instinct, comes within the process of evolution. Just as natural selection has brought it about that each species has a certain vodily structure, so also has the same process resulted in equipping each species by inheritance with certain instinctive and emotional responses which are characteristic of that species. A problem arises as to what “ survival value”? our emotions have. Many of them, like love of music, do not seem to be of any advantage to an organism in the struggle for existence. Oftentimes our emotions are a disadvantage because they upset us so much that we are not as effective in some situations when we are emotionally excited as we are when cool-headed. The advantage in a critical situation is most often on the side of the person who does not become too quickly excited. Yet, without our emotional interests, it is doubtful if we could ever have achieved very much, or made any very persistent efforts, since most of the “goods” of life are associated with our emotions. James, following Darwin, however, suggests that many emotional re- sponses which are of no practical use to the organism at the present time may once have had such use. He quotes Spencer to the effect that some movements of expression, particularly those of the muscles of the face, which occur in various of our emotions, are “ weakened repetitions ” of movements which formerly, “ when they were stronger,” were of utility to the subject. Thus, distension of.the nostrils in anger is interpreted as survival of the way in which our ancestors had to breathe when the mouth was filled by a part of an antagonist’s body that had been seized. We shall see later when we discuss Dr. Cannon’s work on emotion, that the bodily changes which occur serve the organism in ways which could not have been known in James’s day. 107 Dr. Watson's Studies of Emotion, James’s contention that emotions are essentially bodily changes is carried much farther by Dr. John B. Watson. Watson as a behaviorist, of course, eliminates from his discussion of emotion the whole subjective side. He is not concerned with feelings. He cautions the student that in giving an account of emotion he do so strictly in terms of “ stimulus and response.” The physcial responses are all that Watson takes note of. He says, “An emotion is an hereditary pattern reaction involving profound changes of the bodily mechanism as a whole, but particularly of the vis- ceral and glandular systems.” Emotion differs from instinct largely in that the response is confined to the subject’s body. If one should insult you and you should impulsively strike out at him, your action would doubtless be an instinctive response. But if, upon receiving the insult, you should blush, the blushing would be an emotional response. It is not quite correct, however, to say that the emotional response is confined entirely to the subject’s own body. ‘There are also, as Watson and Rivers say, such emotional responses as gestures and random move- ments. A person in the shock of emotional excitement may be thrown into a “chaotic” state. He may collapse; “his cigarette may fall from his fingers ;” he may make rapid and “wild” movements with his arms and legs; throw things about or smash up the china; he may laugh or weep. These latter are movements of the whole body and are called by Dr. Rivers “ mass reactions.” Whatever movements are made, such emotional responses are non-adaptive. They do not put the organism, as do instinc- tive responses, into any effective relationship to the exciting situation. One must, to some extent, “get over” intense grief before he is able to take up again his daily tasks. He must “control his temper” if he is to be very effective in dealing with an irascible person. He should not be too “ sentimental’ if he is to be effective as a lover, or as a member of a family or a religious community, or as a citizen. He must master his shy- ness and embarrasment if he is to become a successful public speaker. Watson says there are several methods of studying emotions. The simplest is the genetic method, the method similar to the one which Watson used quite successfully in his study of instinct. Since emotions are in- herited modes of response it is well that some distinction be made between those emotional patterns which are inherited and those responses which are acquired. As in the study of instinct, therefore, Watson carefully ob- served the responses of small children. He found that there were at least three types of inherited emotional responses. First, the small child gives evidence of fear response, but this response is elicited by fewer objects than we commonly believe. Experiments were made with various animals both in light and in dark rooms, and infants did not show any fear of rats or dogs or black cats. | Watson says that the fear reaction will, however, take place when the child is dropped or when certain loud noises are heard. Second, a child will show anger when the movements of its arms and legs are restrained. Third, it will give evidences of Jove when its body is gently stroked. Our author, however, says, that the genetic method will not greatly enlighten us because, just as in the case of instincts, the inherited reaction patterns of emotion very soon become modified by habit and learning. 108 Another method he mentions is word reaction tests. This subject really belongs to psycho-analysis. Probably the best word reaction test is that of Jung. A list of 100 words is prepared and to each word as it is spoken by the experimenter, the test person is asked to respond by the first word that comes into his head. For instance, if the experimenter should say “house,” the test person might say “barn;” to the word “tree,” he might respond, with the word “leaf;” to the word “window” he might respond with the word “ glass;” so on and so on. Thus, by carefully not- ing the length of time which the test person normally requires in respond- ing his reaction time is learned. This is usually about 2/5ths of a second for ordinary words. There are in the list, however, certain words which are “complex words;”’ that is, they are associated with some emotional reflex, so that there is a balking in the association pro- cess between the fest word and the respond word. ‘The reaction time is lengthened in such cases and often a surprisingly irrelevant or unusual word is given. A careful study of these unusual words together with the words to which the reaction time was notably long and an analysis of the general type of response, gives the experimenter a very good insight into the emotional character of his subject. This test is frequently used in psycho-analysis in order to determine what repressed and forgotten ex- periences are causing certain emotional disturbances in the lives of nervous patients. Watson also suggests that the analysis of dreams may give us similar information. We discussed this point in our lecture on Freud. In fact, psycho-analysis, as we shall see later, is primarily concerned with the problems of emotional adjustment. Finally, Watson suggests a physiological study of the emotions. There are in the body various ductless glands, or endocrine glands. These glands—the thyroid located in the neck; the suprarenal gland located just above the kidneys; the pituitary gland located at the base of the brain, and others—have been much studied of late and their effects on bodily activity noted. It seems to be fairly well established now that the secre- tions of these glands have to do with certain of our emotions. This would appear, at any rate, to be the case with the activity of the thyroid and the suprarenal glands. Persons suffering with excessive thyroid function are apt to be very excitable, given to anxiety and fear, and their very facial expression suggests these emotions. They are often “flighty ” and jerky in their thoughts and movements. There are other definite physiological effects of excessive thyroid secretion, each of which must have some effect on the emotional life. The secretion of the suprarenal gland is known as adrenol. This substance can now be manufactured in chemical labora- tories; it is sold by druggists under the name “ adrenalin.”” The chemical analysis of the blood after emotional excitation will reveal certain changes in content, which changes may be regarded as important elements in the emotional responses which the organism makes to certain stimuli. For a valuable discussion of the function of these glands together with the au- tonomic nervous system, one should read the very interesting book by Si W. B. Cannon, called “ Bodily Changes in Pain, Hunger, Rage and ear.” Dr. Cannon and the Physiology of Emotion. It is in the work of physiologists like Cannon that we learn what are the specific bodily changes in emotion, which James said must exist but 109 which he was unable, because of their complexity, to trace. A knowledge of these specific changes will show us more convincingly than James showed, that emotions have the function of adapting an organism to situa- tions. At least some of the bodily changes in emotion are now known to have the function of preparing the organism for strenuous exertion. Cannon’s work deals largely with the “autonomic” nervous system. He shows that this system is really three systems of nervous ganglia, located in the abdominal cavity and connected with various organs like the diges- tive organs, certain glands, and the unstriped muscles of the viscera and circulatory system. ‘The nerve ends of this system also connect all those geets which have nerve ends, running to them from the brain or spinal cord. The uppermost portion of the autonomic system is called the cranial. Cannon says that the cranial system governs those functions that have to do with nutrition; that is, with the general function of supplying the body with the sources of its energy and power. It regulates the flow of saliva and the various digestive fluids. The feelings associated with these func- tions are taste and delight in food—in fact, all those feelings which the Freudians tell us are connected with the “ food-getting instinct.” The middle part of the autonomic system is called the sympathetic. The function of this system is primarily to act as a check upon the others and to govern the secretion of such glands as the sweat glands, the gland which secretes adrenol, and the action of the liver in secreting sugar into the blood stream. These substances, adrenol and sugar, may be found by chemical analysis, when the organism experiences pain or great emotional excitement, especially rage and fear. Cannon says that the secretion of adrenol puts the organism on a “ war-footing.” Adrenol heightens the blood-pressure by contracting the muscles in the arteries. It increases respiration and on the whole causes a more rapid combustion of the cellular tissue of the body. Thus adrenol makes possible a very greatly increased output of energy. It also stimulates the liver to secrete, as I have just said, sugar. Sugar is a very volatile, combustible sub- stance and the extra supply of it in the blood equips the organism with the material which may be used up in intense activity. Thus, the emotions rage and fear are adaptive. They do not adapt the organism directly to any outside object but they adapt it to its own needs for exertion. The sacral or lowest portion of the autonomic system has to do with the emotions and the functions of sex. Whenever the cranial and sym- pathetic impulses meet in an aroused emotion, the sympathetic tends to inhibit the cranial functions, such as the secretion of saliva, gastric juice and bile. Hence, the dryness of the mouth accompanying the feeling of fear; hence, also, the likelihood of indigestion when food is taken while the subject is excited by fear or anger. Also when the sympathetic im- pulse meets with the impulses of the sacral system there is an inhibition of sex interest and function. From this Cannon argues, since all in- stinctive impulses when inhibited may arouse fear and anger, that the sympathetic system has the adaptive value of liberating energy so that the organism may overcome whatever obstacles stand in the way of its natural behavior, 110 Psycho-Analysis and Emotion. Finally, let us note what the Freudians have to say about emotion. In all abnormal mental life there is something the matter with the emo- tions. Very many nervous symptoms are the result of a “ fixation” of an emotion. As we saw in the lecture about Freud, the psycho-physical de- velopment of a child is a very long and complicated process. Every small infant has its emotional interests, largely fixed on its own body, and is chiefly concerned with the functions of “alimentation.” Later, the grow- ing child has its emotional interests largely directed to its parents. It loves them, trusts them, believes in them implicitly, and experiences as it will never again experience in the struggle for existence, freedom, a sense of self-importance, and a feeling of security. The adolescent youth must pass through certain emotional crises in which his emotional interest is relatively detached from the parent images and becomes directed toward the objects of his wider environment. In this way he is preparing him- self for what the Freudians call “‘ object love,” or normal attachment to a person of the opposite sex. Now in none of these transactions is the process an easy one. The individual always tends, so far as possible, to react to new situations in habitual ways, and to preserve those feelings which in a former stage of his development have given him satisfaction. If in any of these crises there is a shock, if there are tasks that are inadequately met, if because of previously acquired mental habits, the growing individual is unable to react with emotional adequacy to the new situations about him, he is likely to substitute for the facts memory images acquired in a previous period of his development—images, the contemplation of which give him consolation. Thus he may retain throughout his later life the emotional characteristics of an earlier period. For instance, the adolescent youth, breaking away from his parents, must frequently pass through a period of spiritual loneliness and of dis- illusionment concerning the father and mother whom in a previous period of his life he regarded as perfect beings. In adclescence also he becomes very much preoccupied with himself. He tends to distrust his powers, to compare himself with other persons, sometimes even to doubt if he is really a normal human being. He is strange to himself and the world has also become strange to him. What is more natural than that he should seek to make this larger new world a family affair, to conceive of it as similar to the situations which he once knew when parental care provided all his wants, held him to be the most precious person in the world, and protected him from all harm. A study of the psychology of religion shows that most normal people retain throughout their lives some degree of emotional fixation upon the parent image. Most of the emotions in religion have to do with this fixation. Wiuth psychopathic individuals this fixation is serious. The indi- vidual is never quite able to react emotionally as an adult. His feelings remain those of a child and and instead of meeting the tasks of his life, he is likely to return in imagination to the period of his childhood, take refuge in fictions and images that belong to that period, and preserve his childish emotional satisfactions at the cost of his own spiritual maturity and with great loss in the adequacy of his behavior. Thus adjusted to an earlier situ- lil ation in his history, he becomes unadjusted to the environment in which grown up persons must behave. These emotional fixations are survivals of childish habits of response and cause many neurotic phenomena, anxieties, and conflicts, and phobias and disturbances of all sorts. There is also an emotion of great psychological interest which we will discuss in a later lecture, the feeling of inferiority. It is enough to say here that the protest against this feeling is a very important sociological fact, giving rise to much morbid ambition, social unrest, crowd minded- ness, and quixotic reform. It will be remembered that in the lecture on Freud we discussed this author’s early papers on hysteria and we noted that Freud said that the symptoms of this disease were the result of cer- tain “trauma” or psychic wounds; in other words, that hysteria was the disease which often accompanied inability to react adequately to cer- tain experiences. Freud said that this inability of emotional response was due to the “suppression of the affect.” Freud further said that when the whole experience was restored to the memory of the sufferer, he lived through a period of intense emotional excitement which had all the ap- pearances of a delayed response to stimulus; that is, it was as if he now experienced the emotions which he should have experienced when the painful event occurred. Freud calls such delayed response “ abreaction ” and says that it is necessary to the cure of the patient. The problem of emotion, therefore, for psycho-analysis is that of securing adequacy of response. I do not mean merely unrepressed emo- tional outlet, but rather, also appropriate response. An emotionally bal- anced person is a normal person and the balance of emotion must be achieved through facing the facts both of ourselves and of our environ- ment. It is just the inability or unwillingness to face facts that causes most emotional disturbances in human life, Psychology and the Problem of Happiness. A consideration of the whole problem of emotion leads us to the view that emotional balance comes very near being a psychological definition of happiness. In this sense psychology aims to make people happy, for happiness is a matter of the emotions. Where there is conflict or per- sistent evasion of the tasks of life, happiness cannot be. Psychology 1s, therefore, concerned about adjustment. First, adjustment of the in- dividual to his environment and second, those habits of thought which enable an individual to bring a working harmony into the various elements of his own nature. The environment of modern civilization, in spite of all our ad- vantages, is hard. Probably in no period in history has there been so great a demand upon man as now, and perhaps also our mechanized society, together with our scientific view of the world, offers men fewer emotional consolations than in earlier periods of history. Undoubtedly the environment can be and has been improved in many ways, but it is doubtful if the total amount of happiness is greater now than it was in earlier times. Given any environment whatsoever, the psychological prob- lem remains. Men can be happy in any civilization only as they develop certain mental habits, which give them the capacity to act with emotional satisfaction, 112 People will always find their happiness in many different ways. There are those who find it in getting drunk. You will remember Harry Lauder’s song, “I ama miserable divel when I’m sober ; but I’m ha! vera, vera happy when I am full.’”’ Alcohol has the effect on many men of paralyzing cer- tain inhibitions and, therefore, of permitting the escape of certain emo- tional responses which vary all the way from conviviality to the maudlin sentimentalism of the drunkard. Again, people find happiness in loving and in being loved. Here, as we said before, happiness is not merely the pleasures of physical functions of sex. As I said before, a large and important element in love is the joy people take in being flattered. Notice the talk of lovers and you will see how much of their conversation is that of a little ‘mutual admiration society.” We feel greatly elated and im- portant when we are told that we are “all the world” to somebody and that we are beautiful. Then we become heroes in our own eyes and this self hero worship of lovers is so great a factor in this emotion that when mutual flattery stops love often flies out of the window. People also find happiness in wealth. Not merely in the physical enjoyment of this world’s goods, but in the sense of self-importance which possession brings them. So also with the happiness that comes through good workmanship and sociability. We are happy when our society is gen- erally sought and, as James once said, there could be no greater punishment for us than if everyone should “cut us dead.” We enjoy being “in” things. The same principle applies to the happiness which comes with free- dom. We are miserable when we are bossed about too much. The joy of freedom consists very largely in the happiness of the feeling that we are our “own boss.” The happiness of having a “good time” also consists largely in cutting loose from certain restraints, in adventure, in the sense of doing unusual things, hence, in experiencing life more largely; there- fore feeling ourselves to be more effective than we can possibly feel in the humdrum of every day life. Now in all these various forms of happiness it seems to me that there is at least one common element, an element which is recognized in popular speech when we say “enjoy yourself.”’ What we are enjoying when we enjoy anything is to some extent at least enjoyment of ourselves. Just as Freud says that in our dreams, which are the expression of repressed de- sires, we always are the hero, so in the wide-awake pursuit of happiness it is very important that the emotions about ourselves be those which are ap- propriate to the facts of the environment in which we have to live. I do not mean here to imply that there is nothing in happiness except the old principle of “ self-love.’’ I do mean that, since many of our deepest emo- tions have to do with ourselves, (and what else could we expect since we have seen that emotion is bodily feeling?) it is in regard to the self-feel- ings that the most conflicts of emotion may arise. The Freudians have found that many phobias and anxieties vanish when one is taught to face courageously the facts about himself. The con- trol of emotion, therefore, is not to be achieved merely by making con- scious efforts to feel in desired ways. Emotion is an inherited mode of response. Like instinct, the original patterns become modified by learn- ing and by habit. They depend often upon our general bodily condition or state of health. One can seldom repress an emotion just by deliberately willing to do so. You may compel yourself to have kindly intentions 113 toward a person whom you do not love, but you will probably not, by mak- ing an effort to do so, force yourself to love such a person. In a moment of anger you may control certain overt actions by an effort of the will, but you will usually not thereby dispel the feeling. So, in moments of de- pression, a person suffering with melancholy may make the most strenuous efforts in the world to rid himself of this feeling without success, The Control and Guidance of Emotion. There is, however, a way of controlling the emotional life, and that is through the formation of the right habits of thinking. We see an ex- cellent illustration of this in respect to humor. What is the difference be- tween the person with a very refined and subtle sense of humor and the coarse, vulgar guffawing ruffian with his? I think the difference is not primarily a difference in the native capacities for feeling of the two men. The difference consists in the sort of objects which they have learned to notice and to react to. The training, then, of the sense of humor, is a training of the intelligence in discrimination uf the capacity to make fine distinctions. We also see an illustration of this point if we compare the super- ficial person of the maudlin and sentimental type with the more genuine type. Sentimentality is emotional superficiality, not because the feelings themselves are less genuine but because superficial people have not learned to think for themselves and therefore they try to feel, at certain times, in ways which they imagine that other persons will regard as proper or as conventional. When such persons acquire the habit of thinking for them- selves, it frequently happens that their entire emotional life becomes richer and fuller, simply as a result of more honest and genuine thought. So with the emotions generally. If we can discipline our thought pro- cess, compel ourselves to see the facts of life and of ourselves as they really are; if we can learn the habits with which to meet situations with the appropriate responses, such habits will stand us in good stead. In the moments of emotional crises we shall find that straight thinking generally helps us to have adequate feeling. Great as are the emotional differences among people, they are probably not so much due to inborn differences in our inherited mode of response as they are due to the differences in men’s capacity to learn. In other words, the greatest differences among men are the intellectual differences. The difference, then, between psy- chopathic emotionalism and the emotional response of the normal in- dividual is due wholly to those habits of thinking which throughout a long experience each has been gradually forming. To live richly and fully, with a sense of satisfaction, the first requirement is that one learn to think, This leads us to our next lecture, yi ; ak big. ; BAe St Lm Aes LECTURE IX A Lecture on How We Think. fi ,% ; rr ’ . f ) 4 7% 7 + ’ c « jt ‘ ’ . . * i ‘ I r. >» f é bail y I, . or ie ni = = + al oe ii ‘I 4 t ‘ I A LECTURE ON HOW WE THINK S MAN a rational being? This is a perplexing question. When one considers the amount of thinking that goes on in the world it is difficult to decide whether to draw an optimistic or a pessimistic conclusion. When we think of the fruits of science and realize what heights of triumph the human reason has attained in its masterful knowledge of the detailed facts of nature, we may for the moment indulge ourselves in the fancy or hope that man, through the use of his intelligence, may yet control the forces of this earth. And yet, we have seen many of the achievements of science turned to engines of human destruction for ends which were set by passion rather than by reason. Again one may look at our folkways and conventions and see that many of them are stupid and wrong-headed, evolved by the masses, not as intelligent solutions of problems, but for ends which were wholly irrelevant to the situations in which these customs of ours regulate our behavior. And yet, such customs survive and seem to have survival value for people who practice them. Or one thinks of the scientist or philosopher whom he knows in life. Professionally those men are so clear-eyed and hard-headed, so objective and capable of impersonal thinking; and yet each, perhaps, being, after all quite human, has his soft spot. There are situations in the life of the most reasonable person, a person with the best-trained mind, which he finds it impossible to deal with rationally. One wonders how much reason has to do with human behavior taken as a whole, and how much such behavior is the fruit of chance, of superstitious belief, of personal interest, dogma and tradition. The older philosophers seemed to believe that reason was a faculty which needed gnly to be exercised and trained in order to assume the proper ascendency in the life of men. Socrates held that knowledge could only be attained by the exercise of reason; that knowl- edge was, therefore, the possession of the few, the philsosphers; whereas the thinking of the masses did not bring them knowledge of the truth but resulted only in “ opinion.” However, Socrates believed that this faculty of reason did exist in everyone and that men, therefore, had knowledge which they did not know they possessed. He felt that it was the task of the philosopher to draw such hidden knowledge out of the recesses of the human spirit. Kant seemed to think that Reason was the same for all minds; that, whereas “pure” reason could not give us ultimate reality, nevertheless, the laws of thought were the same in all and universal. So in describing the various kinds of judgments which the human mind may form, Kant felt that he was giving us an account of universal reason. To the student of modern psychology, such views as I have just outlined are far from adequate. Undoubtedly there are certain principles of logic which the trained mind ordinarily may follow in pursuing its thought processes, but it is doubtful if any one’s mind habitually works in such formal ways. James once said that our temperament dominates [117] 118 our thinking to an amazing degree, even the thinking of the greatest philosopher. Freud and Jung have shown that the unconscious makes its presence felt, together with its repressed desires, wish-fancies, and fears, even in the work of the most “dry-as-dust”” philosophers. Many persons resent the existence of what James calls the “ will to believe,” but as a description of the way in which most thinking goes on, James gave in this phrase a fairly accurate account of what happens. Various Kinds of Thinking. It may be said that there are various kinds of thinking. There is, first, reverie. Second, there is what might be called trial-and-error think- ing, the kind of thinking that perhaps animals do. ‘Third, there is the thinking which consists in solving problems. Fourth, there is what Freud would call rationalization. Reverie, as Dewey and James have both shown, makes up the greater part of the mental experience of us all. James says much of our thinking consists of trains of images suggested by one another, of a sort of spon- taneous reverie, of which it seems likely enough that the higher brutes should be capable. . . . Links between the ideas are either contiguity or similarity. . . . Asa rule in this sort of irresponsible thinking, the ideas which follow and are coupled together are “ empirical concretes ” and not abstractions. “A sunset may call up a vessel’s deck from which I saw one last summer, the companions of my voyage, my arrival into port, and so forth. Or it may make me think of solar myths; of Hercules’s and Hector’s funeral pyres; of Homer and whether he could write; of the Greek alphabet, and so on.” James also tells us that there are minds to whom the sunset means only supper time or calls up some superficial platitude. He says, “If the habitual contiguities predominate, we have a prosaic mind; if rare contiguities or similarities have free play, we call the person fanciful, poetic or witty. But the thought as a rule is of matters of fact in their entirety. Thinking of this sort has been called “ free association,” day dreaming, “wool gathering.” If one’s thoughts appear to run at random and without effort—one thought making us think of another and that of a third, and so without any voluntary direction—we speak of such thinking as reverie. In normal persons this reverie is usually of a pleasant nature and the psychopathologists have shown us that day dreams are pleasant, not merely because we make no effort to think in this fashion, but because such thinking, like dreaming, consists wholly in those wish-fancies which give us imaginary escape from realities and also provide us with consola- tion in our losses and failures and have the function, on the whole, of bolstering up our self-feeling. If you try to catch yourself in such moments of reverie, you will probably notice that what you are doing is making an imaginary hero of yourself. Of course, we like to be heroic in our own eyes, and to imagine the world to be congenial to us; therefore, the ease with which we day- dream and the difficulty, frequently, of inducing ourselves to face the cold, hard, facts of life. This type of reverie, aside from the part which it plays in poetry and in art, does not greatly aid us in intelligent behavior. Yet we find that there is a place, even in the most scientific thinking, 119 where something like this is necessary if new and fruitful—creative—ideas are to occur. There is a place where new associations among things must just “pop” into our heads. No effort on our part and no training can ever make an idea which has not been thought before come into anyone’s mind. We shall see why this is so later in the lecture. The second kind of thinking I have called trial-and-error thinking. This is hardly the correct term. It might also be called routine thinking, as I believe Dewey calls it. I use the term in this connection because the type of thinking we are now discussing consists very largely of associations of ideas which we have learned very much as animals learn. In the lecture on Habit you will remember that I referred to experiments in animal training like those of Thorndike and others. An animal may be put in a box. He must learn to pull a latch-string in order to unlock the door and escape. For a long time he makes frantic efforts which are for the most part pure random movements; finally, by accident he will hit upon the movement which leads him to success. The second time he is placed in the box it will not require so long for the animal to make the successful movement. Slowly there will be built up in the mind of the animal an association between the movement that leads to success and the experience of escaping. After a sufficient period of training, the animal will pull the string of the latch after only one trial. Now in this type of learning it is not necessary to assume that there has been any intelligent act of looking over the situation or of consideration on the part of the animal. Having once learned the trick, he will perform it whenever he is placed in a certain situation. In the same lecture (on Habit) I said that most of the things men learn are learned in this way, and that most of the thinking we do is of this sort. One has been taught a trade or a profession or a foreign language or certain ethical, patriotic, or religious principles. All of these elements of his teaching are what we saw Watson calls “‘ con- ditioned reflexes.” We carry a great many such systems of reflexes about with us as a part of our organization and upon most occasions we simply permit a situation to stimulate us to behave or speak in the habitual way. And, as according to Watson, thinking is just sub-vocal talking or implicit language habit, it would seem that most of our thinking is of this routine “trained animal ” sort. People who merely repeat what they have been taught in childhood very seldom experience any other kind of thinking. When it is suggested that “people think for themselves,’ what is really meant is that they break these routine habits and, instead of acting in the strictly habitual way, stop and consider the situation in which they find themselves. In the above quotation of James, it will be noticed that he says such association proceeds by coupling together “ empirical concretes,”’ not abstractions. This is true even in cases where one has learned to repeat certain abstract principles which he has been taught. A religious, patriotic or moral idea, for instance, may be nothing more than a phrase which an individual repeats as a part of his conditioned laryngeal reflexes in precisely the same manner (and on a very little higher mental plane) as Thorndike’s animal pulls the latch string. 120 As James says, speaking of animal thinking, “ The idea in question is of an object about which nothing further may articulately be known. The thought of it prompts to activity but to no theoretic consequences.” If you will analyse your own thoughts throughout a day or study the speech and conduct of people about you with this in mind, you will see that it is possible to go through a whole day’s activities and never once have a thought that is not of this strictly routine nature. In fact, a large portion of the human race lives its entire mental life on this level. We may get up in the morning, dress ourselves in the way we have learned, eat our breakfast in the routine fashion, repeat the customary phrases that go with the various activities in which we are engaged, do our work in the way we learned to do it, talk as we heard others talk, eat the food we see others eating, repeat the stories we have heard, draw the conventional inferences from the facts about us, attend a motion picture in which all the situations are trite and all the captions platitudes, read the newspaper editorials which merely repeat the notions which we already believe, go to a patriotic or religious meeting where we are again told the “ old, old, story.” New situations and new possibilities of experience and insights may be all about us and yet we may never see them at all till our dying day. If our environment should remain forever the same, the human race could get along fairly well with this sort of thinking, though, of course, it could make no progress. On most occasions we should probably do the “ right thing,” for by the “right thing” most people mean the thing which is usually done on a given occasion. But the world in which we live is a changing world, and situations are always confronting us in which customary ways are irrelevant. The intelligent person, therefore, is one who tries to behave and think in ways which are relevant as well as conventional or traditional. This kind of thinking I wish to call problem solving thinking. In most cases, there is, as Dewey says, “an obstruction in the way.” He says, “As long as our activity glides smoothly along from one thing to another, or as long as we permit our imagination to entertain fancies at pleasure, there is no call for reflection. In the suspense of uncertainty, we meta- phorically climb a tree; we try to find some standpoint from which we may survey additional facts and, getting a more commanding view of the situation, may decide how the facts stand related to one another.” This solving of problems is thinking proper. It is creative thinking. It consists primarily in picking out of any situation the significant or relevant factor and then of comparing that factor with something else. In this way new likenesses are discovered which enable us to deal with facts in new ways. James says, “In reasoning we pick out essential qualities.” Al In reasoning A may suggest B, but B, instead of being an idea which is simply obeyed by us, is an idea which suggests the distinctly additional idea C. . . . The result C, yielded by a true act of reason- ing, is apt to be a thing voluntarily sought. It is not suggested immediately by the things given. It may be neither the result of our habitual forms of association of ideas nor does it need to be similar to the thing which suggests it. It may be a thing entirely unknown to our previous experience.” 121 This singling out of the relevant factor is called analysis and abstrac- tion. Things are no longer thought of in their entirety. The mind must have the sagacity to seize upon the one thing that may be said about a fact which is most important if one is to be led to a desired conclusion. Thus about the table on which I am writing an infinite number of things may be said. It has some relation to everything in the universe. But if I am a collector of antiques, I seize upon the significant fact that this is probably a Chippendale and not an imitation. As I am interested in writing, I seize upon the fact that the table is a comfortable one to work on. James reduced this sort of reasoning to the syllogism, “ Call the fact or concrete datum S; the essential attribute M; the attribute’s property P. “Then the reasoned inference of P from S cannot be made without M’s intermediation. The ‘essence’ M is thus that third or middle term in the reasoning which a moment ago was pronounced essential. For this original concrete S the reasoner substitutes its abstract property, M. What is true of M, what is coupled with M, then holds true of S, is coupled with S. As M is properly one of the parts of the entire S, reasoning may then be very well defined as the substitution of parts and their implications or consequences for wholes. And the art of the reasoner will consist of two stages: ‘ “ First, sagacity, or the ability to discover what part, M, lies embedded in the whole S which is before him; “ Second, learning, or the ability to recall promptly M’s consequences, concomitants, or implications. “If we glance at the ordinary syllogism: SrisAVie St Ninise. Bes Saiseiy: —we see that the second or minor premise, the ‘ subsumption,’ 4$ it is sometimes called, is the one requiring the sagacity; the first or major, the one requiring the fertility or fulness of learning. Usually the learning is more apt to be ready than the sagacity, the ability to seize fresh aspects in concrete things being rarer than the ability to learn old rules; so that, in most actual cases of reasoning, the minor premise, or the way of con- ceiving the subject, is the one that makes the novel step in thought.” Now the important thing in this is, that there is no property which is absolutely essential to any one thing. “All ways of conceiving an object are equally true if they are true at all.” It is just as true to say that my table is 285,000 miles from the moon as to say that it is a comfortable table to work on. The important thing is to be able to seize upon the relevant factor. Perhaps I can make this matter clear by an illustration. Let us note the way in which Darwin probably arrived at the theory of natural selection, or “ descent with modification.” Darwin in the voyage of the 122 Beagle notices that the plants and animals on crastial islands bear certain striking resemblances to and differences from those on the mainland. He notices also that there are indications that the shoreline has changed with the rising and falling of the land surface. Thus he is led to say that the changes in the environment have produced the changes in the forms of life on these islands. Comparing the creatures on the island with those on the mainland, Darwin notices certain changes or modifications. And the noticing of these modifications makes him think of similar modifications which are produced by stock breeders and farmers. Darwin knows that these lat.er modifications are brought about through a process of selective breeding. So the thought flashes through the great naturalist’s mind, that perhaps environmental factors bring about a form of selective breeding similar to that which farmers use in producing new varieties of plants and animals. Hence, natural selection. Here is a new and thought-revolu- tionizing hypothesis. Let us see if we can state it in the same terms that James states his syllogism: S is the environment; M is the fact of modification of plants and animals; P is the modification produced by selective breeding on the part of farmers; Hence, S is P—the essential fact of environment in its modification of plants and animals. In other words, the environment behaves like a farmer; or a contingent acting through geological times is like a farmer. Now this is absolutely a new association of ideas. It is a comparison which has not been made before. There is nothing in the shoreline of an island which would, in and of itself, ever cause anybody to say that a continent is like a farmer. Darwin never could have said this except for the fact that, of all the things that could be noted about these islands near the shore, his mind seized upon one very significant factor—the modification of plants and animals. There is no reason why he should not have thought of other things; no reason why he should have picked out this; but, having singled it out as the significant element, he is at once made to think of stock breeders. The fact that stock breeders change the forms of animals and plants by selective breeding is something which it does not require any genius to know. Knowledge of this fact is simply a matter of information. But the ability to seize the significant factor regarding the modifications men- tioned above and the ability to see likenesses between the modifications produced by environment and those produced by selective breeding is something which cannot be taught. It must pop into the right man’s head at the right time. There is no device for making such an idea ever come into a man’s mind. It just has to walk in unexpectedly. It may be the idea one has been seeking for a long time, but it remains unknown until it makes its appearance in consciousness. When it does make its appearance, one must have sagacity enough to say, “this is precisely the unknown idea I have been looking for.” Notice then that fruitful or intelligent thinking consists partly in learning and partly in right ways of conceiving things; in making correct 123 analyses; in seizing significant factors and in making unhabitual com- parisons. Once Darwin said that environment is like a farmer, he gains a new insight into the cause of the modification of species which, if verified, upsets the thinking of 2,000 years. James’s account of thinking, which we have just discussed, has import- ant theoretical consequences. Everything depends upon our seizing the right factor or, in other words, upon noticing and saying the right and relevant thing about a fact. To the chemist, water must be thought of as H,0. To the hydro-electrician, it must be conceived of as a falling fluid, the weight of which contains so many foot-pounds of energy. To the ice-man, water is a very different thing. To the thirsty man it is different still. And it becomes something wholly different in the thought of a Nantucket whaler. Water is no more truly H,0 than it is a place where whales swim, and, if we are to be successful as chemists or as engineers or as fishermen, we must note the factor which is significant for our purpose and ignore all the rest for the time being. Thinking therefore, is partial. It depends on purpose. It is for the sake of acting. It is by noticing the relevant aspects of things and by comparing these relevant aspects of things in new ways that situations have any meaning for us at all. All the meanings in the world are the result of this human partiality of ours. Thinking does not merely copy given meanings. It creates them whenever it achieves new and helpful comparisons among things. To a mind which was impartial to all the aspects of all things the world would have no meaning. A mind equally interested in everything would not be particularly interested in anything. In other words, it would be interested in nothing and, if interested in nothing, nothing would have any meaning since all things, being equally inevitable, would be equally important and indifferent. What we call truths are meanings which lead us to satisfactory results in thought and in behavior. Our thoughts become true when they are verified. Translate “verify” from the Latin into the English and you will see that thoughts become true when we “ make” them “true.” Truth is created by man and for man. Our minds do not get eternal principles or “ given truths.”’ They merely create new and unforeseen yet tremend- ously valuable and helpful comparisons. He who can fruitfully associate facts which independently of himself would never have been thought of as belonging together can think. You will remember that in the lecture on Habit I discussed Dr. Watson’s theory that thinking is sub-vocal talking or implicit language habit. He says that we think with our whole body, but primarily with our vocal cords and laryngeal muscles. To many students this is a rather startling assertion. But after all the important element in thinking is not where we think or with what organs the thinking processes take place; the important element is how we think. How we think is really of greater significance than of what we think. Propagandists of all sorts are always ° concerned with what people think. Of course, it is important that we should entertain certain opinions and ideas. Social adjustment is possible only when there is a certain amount of agreement among people and obvi- ously there is a vital distinction between truths and errors. We should 124 strive all our lives to correct the errors which abound in the thinking of us all. But one who centers his attention on what is thought, rather than how he thinks, is more prone to error than the person who practices intel- lectual self-criticism. He who changes his beliefs merely because he has been “converted” from one group of current opinions to another may have been only reshuffling his prejudices. He may be the same man after he has changed his opinions as he was before. The thinker lives through his experiences. They modify him. He who has achieved correct mental habits may still be mistaken about a great many things. But he is at least less likely to be “taken in” by specious arguments and by sentimental appeal than is the other man. Much of our public discussion about matters political, social, religious and moral, consists of the most violent assumptions, and for the spirit of investiga- tion there is substituted commonly a partisan spirit even regarding matters where knowledge is easily accessible. The partisan spirit indulges itself in wild generalizations and in what Dr. Sheffield calls “detonators of irrelevant emotional outbursts.” Intelligent public discussion is almost impossible for the reason that people ordinarily are not using their language habits in order to solve problems. They are striving to vindicate their principles; not to verify their hypotheses. Good and Bad Habits of Thinking. Bad thinking habits are so common that perhaps we should strive to get a clear notion of what some of them are, so that we may put ourselves on our guard against them. Professor Dewey says that the great difference among men is between those who think in a dull, slavish and routine way and those who can intervene in the course of events with purpose and with some foresight of the results of their behavior. If you will note most of the discussion of ethical and religious matters, for instance, you will see that the opinions of men on these subjects are very often not based upon consideration of results but are the deductions from things which are quite irrelevant to the situation in hand. There are various influences which cause us to be victims of routine methods of thinking. Professor Dewey says that school conditions have much to do with this. It has long been the practice in our schools to require of the student merely the given and correct answer. The student acquires the habit of feeling that in finding the correct answer to a question which the teacher asks he is learning to think. As Professor Robinson says, schools and colleges are places where there is “much teaching but no learning.” Undoubtedly there are influences about most of our educational institutions which have little to do with the true educational aim but are concerned chiefly with molding the student to type, equipping him with ready-made answers in life, fixing his habits in such a way as to kill his natural curiosity and to assure his educators that he will thereafter think and behave in the ways that he has been taught. Closely related with this is the habit of depending upon others for our opinions. As little children we necessarily live under parental authority. If we wish to know a thing we ask our parents, though, unfortunately, there are many important matters concerning which we later learn that they did not tell us the truth. Nevertheless, the habit persists of quoting 125 authorities, especially for the opinions we wish to hold. We like to be told what to think. We feel that whatever is written in some sacred book must necessarily be true, and true for the reason that it was written there. I know people who believe that the only reason why we should not kill or steal is because it is so written in the Bible. There are others who swear by the writings of Karl Marx or the Koran or the New York “Times.” I knew a man who had a tremendous reverence for anything in print, particularly a book that dealt with historical matters, without regard to who the author of the book might have been and with- out questioning the accuracy of his statement. This student would say, “ History says so and so.” Recently I saw an illustration of this attitude in a class of very bright young workers to whom it has been my task to teach psychology. A series of extremely interesting problems in industrial psychology was up for discussion. Many of the problems were of such a nature that psy- chology in its present stage has no data upon which to frame an answer. About all that could be done was to state the problems and try to get the class to approach some of these industrial matters from a psychological point of view. Therefore, we decided to turn the sessions of the class into conferences, feeling that the discussion would help us to pick out the significant factors and isolate certain problems for investigation and research. It was necessary for the instructor to use the Socratic method, telling the class that the value of the course would be in the fact that together we should investigate subjects which had not hitherto been worked out. One of the ablest students in the class said, “ But, Mr. Martin, are you not wasting our time? We are here to be taught; not merely to con- duct experiments.” Here was an intelligent young radical who in spite of her intellectual independence in some things, would have felt herself more at home in a course of study where the instructor dispensed ready- made information than in a course where she was required to do some original thinking. Our dependence upon others is the cause of much of that credulity which permits the uncritical acceptance of rumors. We had many exam- ples of this during the war. There were large sections of the public who believed, without question, almost any story that was told about the enemy. I find a pamphlet published in 1918 in which there is a statement that the Germans were deliberately starving thousands of Polish people and grind- ing up their bones for fertilizer. Statements of this nature were current throughout the nation and we had the feeling that they should not be questioned. Anyone who did seek the truth in these matters was felt in some way to be disloyal to the Republic. We see the same credulity among men whom, by their professional training and education, we should expect to be the very incarnation of accuracy. I find among my newspaper clippings an article which appeared in the New York “ Tribune” in April, 1919. This was the time when the public was very much concerned with the alleged bolshevist propa- ganda in this country. The article in question says: “Last night the savings bank section of the American Bankers’ Association sent out letters to the heads of all the savings banks asking their co-operation in a move- ment to induce returning immigrants to stay in this country, 126 The letter said: ‘Due to bolshevik propaganda an alarming proportion of the fourteen million foreign born aliens are drawing their money from the banks, selling their liberty bonds and houses, and returning to Europe. . . . It is estimated that about 1,300,000 cannot be stopped from going and that they will carry with them nearly $4,000,000,000 or four-fifths of the total currency in circulation and in reserve in the United States before the war.’ ” Such credulity is not confined to Bankers’ Associations. It is common among persons of all classes. In the West I met a prohibitionist recently who told me with absolute assurance that the reason the Germans lost the battle of the Marne was because they all got drunk on champagne while going through a wine-growing district of France. Radicals are just as credulous as conservatives. Listen to any soap-box speaker and you will get an amazing account of all sorts of diabolical conspiracies which the capitalists are alleged to be perpetrating. In fact it is this willingness to accept as fact whatever is repeated often enough that makes the public the easy victim of all sorts of propaganda. The first requirement for sound thinking is that one develop habits of doubt. No one can learn to think until he has first learned to doubt. Another cause of routine thinking is our natural inertia. People are intellectually lazy. Most men would rather make violent physical effort than exert themselves mentally. Thinking requires effort and some degree of risk. In thinking there is always a period of suspended judgment. It is much easier to go on with our minds made up than to revise our pre-sup- positions. Once we have settled a thing we wish never to be made to question it again, particularly if we have long believed it and have asso- ciated many other things with it. Liberals are often as prone to this sort of thing as re-actionaries. In one of Shaw’s plays, an elderly man says to the young hero, “I was a liberal before you were born, sir.’ To which the hero answers, “I knew it must have been a long time ago.” Whether one is a liberal or a radical he is as likely as anyone else to reduce his thinking to a set formula and to cling to it with all his might. As Dewey quotes Locke, “There are men whose intellect is cast into a mould and just fashioned to the size of a received hypothesis.” In other words, people of different shades of opinion often hold their pet ideas as watch dogs, which are kept about for the sole purpose of running out and barking and scaring other ideas away. So an idea once accepted becomes a going concern. One lives with it so long that he gets the habit of it. One may repeat a story which in the beginning he knew was not true, but after repeating it again and again he will come to believe it. I knew an old soldier of this type once. He had passed through the Civil War uninjured. In the early nineties, the government was very liberal with pensions, especially to those men who had their health impaired during the war. This particular veteran finally remembered that during his encampment in the South he once had an attack of indigestion. It was after he had eaten some mince pie baked by a Southerner. At first he said that perhaps there had been some poison put in the pie; later he said the poison must have been powdered glass; finally that it was pow- dered glass. For several years he told how during the war he had 127 eaten powdered glass and finally, in all good faith, he applied to the government for a pension and received it on the ground that he had been injured in this way while in the service. To-day nothing in the world could make him doubt this story. He is a wounded hero. There are many people who hold their religious and political convic- tions in such a manner. They have repeated for so many years the stock phrases of their faith that the mere repetition of them finally fixes certain language habits and in the end what was once held with very little conviction becomes a fundamental. One evening after we had heard a lecture at Cooper Union on Eugenics, in the course of which the lecturer had mentioned our duty to future generations, a kind-faced old man came up to the platform and said, “ But, professor, there are not going to be any future generations. The book of Daniel says . . .” Inthe same way causes that have once been fought for persist long after the battle 1s won or lost. There are women who worked for suffrage who now, though they have won their cause, are still militant for “‘ women’s rights.” Down South they were twenty-five years after it was all over, still fighting the Civil War. And there are people who go on repeating religious beliefs of various sorts a whole half-century or more after the consensus of intelligent and scientific thought has rendered them untenable. I am sure that with a little effort one could find in almost any community a number of persons who still believe that the earth is flat. Thus our beliefs come to take on a ceremonial character. They area sort of rigamarole. One who has had much experience with public dis- cussion comes to be deeply impressed by: the fact that many persons see in such discussion, not an occasion for inquiry, but merely an oppor- tunity for standing up and repeating their creeds. Every cult and party tends to sterotype the minds of its adherents so that in the end the same phrases are likely to be repeated by most of the members and in almost the same tones of voice. Thus there is a typical revivalist sermon; a typical socialist speech ; a typical single-tax address; a typical republican argument for the tariff and so on. Not only is much thinking paralyzed by the habits of routine which we have just discussed, but there are also many instances where opinion is determined, not by the evidence in the case, but by factors which are quite irrelevant. There are many subjects which we cannot bring ourselves to in- vestigate with an open mind because we fear that our conclusions may com- pel us to revise some other belief which has nothing directly to do with the subject. I know persons who will not read Freud because they fear that he may cause them to become critical in respect to certain conventional and authoritarian beliefs they may have about ethics. There are other persons who refuse to approach the study of biology with an open mind because they fear that if they should accept the doctrine of evolution they might have to change their preconceived notions concerning the meaning of the book of Genesis. This irrelevancy may sometimes have serious consequences as when certain municipal or school authorities demand a revision of the accounts in history text books of the American Revolution. These men are not so much concerned with the truth of these accounts as they are motivated by their hatred of England. England must always be wrong, in every 128 detail, and any facts which cause us to question this notion are wicked facts, and a good patriot should neither write nor read about them. It is interesting to see how this irrelevancy influences even intelligent men. If you tell me a person’s belief about social problems, whether he is a radical or a liberal or a conservative, I will undertake to tell you what he will think concerning the purely biological question of the inheritance of acquired characters. And in most cases I am sure I should be correct. Now, of course, the question whether acquired characters are inherited must be settled on biological and not sociological ground. Yet such is seldom the case with the average man. Men very often believe or refuse to believe a thing, not because they have made an effort to find out if it is so, but because of the effect of that belief on their favorite theories. The love of truth is rare. What men love is their own “truths,” that is their opin- ions. People who can not love truth itself can not think because they can not pay attention to that which is relevant. It is necessary, therefore, if we are to develop habits of correct thinking that we stick to the point. We should carefully watch ourselves to see if we are permitting our thought to be drawn from the recognition of facts by interests which have nothing to do with the case. The third hindrance to habits of correct thinking is what psychologists call rationalization. In our lecture about Freud we saw that rationalization is not solving of problems. It is an invention of plausibilities by which behavior that is motivated by unconscious impulses or repressed wishes may be made to appear to consciousness as reasonable conduct. Much of our rationalization consists in the fabrication of mechanisms the func- tion of which is to invent ideal consolations or imaginary escapes from realities, or justifications of anti-social behavior trends. Thus when a nation making war upon its neighbors persuades itself that it is the inno- cent and injured party and that it is interested only in peace, the thinking of that nation on that subject is rationalization. I find a beautiful example of rationalization in to-day’s newspapers. An announcement is made that an army officer will give a lecture to-night on the subject, “ The Benevolent Uses of Poison Gas.” Many of our rationalizations have the function of preserving our egotism. We wish to feel ourselves important and therefore, if there is anything which arouses in us the feeling of inferiority, our thinking about that subject is sure to be characterized by rationalization. Thus people who live in rural communities and are made to feel “ countrified’”’ when they come to town, very often believe that all large cities are ‘“ wicked.” So persons who can not understand or follow difficult scientific discussions frequently preserve their self-appreciative feelings by denouncing the scientists as fools or as enemies of religion. Crowdmen always have a habit of preserving their crowd ideas in the face of contrary evidence by denouncing the person who does not agree with them. The very existence of such a person is a witness to contrary evidence and his testimony must be discredited. So, many prohibitionists believe that if one does not accept their doctrine he is “ bought up by the liquor gang.” And there are socialists who hold that if one is an individualist it must be that he is either a coward or in secret league with the capitalists. It is a common habit with religious sects to hold that unbelievers are wicked persons who should rightly be punished with hell-fire. 129 Sometimes our rationalizations take on elaborate ramifications. There is much rationalization of this sort in the old 19th century humanitarian doctrine—still held by many liberals and radicals—that man is by nature good and that if anyone is bad or ignorant or foolish it is only because he has been held down by a wicked master class or by a vicious environ- ment; that all that is necessary to make everyone good and wise is to improve the environment. Of course, this thinking may have in it a measure of truth, as much rationalization may, but its real function is frequently that of justifying belief in an ideal commonwealth of some sort. And the very ideal of such a commonwealth is for many persons a rationalization of the wish to return to the golden age of childhood; in other words, it is frequently a rationalization of what the Freudians call the “infantile return ” or fixation upon the mother image. Finally, there is rationalization which has the function of justifying anti-social behavior. If a mob lynches a negro or sets out to tar and feather some helpless victim it always persuades itself that it is motivated, not, as it is, by a love of cruelty, but by the loftiest of moral principles. Rationalization is really compulsive thinking and by compulsive thinking I mean that there are many thoughts which persons both normal and abnormal entertain because they cannot help entertaining them. Such persons can never be convinced by evidence. They resent anyone who calls their attention to the facts because rationalization is not concerned with facts. Jt is an attempt to escape from fact, * kek Ke * K K K * The student should cultivate the habit of noticing when his thinking and that of other persons is rationalization and when it is problem-solving thinking. Civilization to-day demands problem-solving in ways that it never demanded before. Our life is so complex that it is impossible for us to carry on very long with the mental habits of earlier and simpler ages. Science has re-organized our life theoretically and practically. At the present time science has been accepted by the public in respect to its products rather than in respect to its mental processes. Unless a very large number of persons can learn to live through these thought processes, we shall have a new sort of class distinction among men. It will be necessary then for a large portion of the race to have its thinking done for it by the few. In that case, democracy will no longer be possible. Everyone who develops the problem-solving habits of thinking, rather than habits of routine and rationalization, not only enriches his own life but performs a most valuable social service, LECTURE X The Value of the Fictions We invent about Ourselves J wa ay » sea } Oaths Ravi Gi ‘it 1 A f ‘ L mi > : sf ine iy cit nd hee rune Mig ie iA ‘ MD ‘ 7 ae ae ea 7 vi ee : rr | : ai SV ipiiede bi oy) ve hed 4 f = ; ' m 7 if ; ' i ne, } ng Pa 4 i Sid A ] i? “— ‘ va i in n) Ai ee prs ¢ rh ‘ ' ‘wath Maat fh \ oaks y j ‘ 4 > ew F asf ‘ ye 1 i “a a es a | (Ag 0 i! / Me ware) i" ‘| ts taae at eas ne. it AN ' i 4 a Fh The, ae CN ke Pe ee be oy’) gciy : a | eee ‘ ay Deut \ jf f 7 a Gk a ie Ape Tis ele ee : 7 THE VALUE OF THE FICTIONS WE INVENT ABOUT OURSELVES. ERHAPS a very strict exponent of behavior psychology would object P to this lecture on the ground that both the subject and the treatment of it are too introspective. We must discuss our habits of thinking about ourselves. Hence, I suppose, we are dealing with some phases of the topic which appears in conventional psychologies as “ self-consciousness.”’ In Watson’s book, “ Psychology from the Standpoint of a Behaviorist,” there is no mention of either self or consciousness. The author believes that these words, together with such words as “soul” and “ spirit” indi- cate that psychologists are very much confused regarding personality. He takes a purely objective view of personality and argues somewhat as fol- lows: that personality is the total integration of an individual’s reaction tendencies,—that is, it consists of his basic habit formations. The behavior psychologists are interested only in the way the indi- vidual behaves when his organism as a whole is at work. The individual is likened to a gas engine. If all the various mechanical parts are properly adjusted the engine will work in a certain way. “ Knowing the part re- actions of individuals and how they have functioned as a whole in past situations enables us to draw legitimate inferences as to how they will act when the new situation confronts them.” Beyond this interest in pre- dicting and controlling the behavior of people, Behavior Psychology has little concern. But if we take the standpoint of psycho-analysis we see that the behavior of people is very much determined by what they think about themselves. In fact, there is probably nothing more important in all our thinking than just that. People are constantly thinking about themselves. Perhaps there is nothing about which they think so much. Freud shows that in dreaming we are always the heroes of our dreams. As we noticed in the lecture on Freud, the dream is verv much disguised, so that unless one knows something of the technique of dream analysis, he might not easily be convinced that certain dreams are really about himself. This, however, seems to be the case, and it is quite evidently shown in such com- mon dreams as those in which one is falling or flying, or taking a journey, or out in the street only partially clothed. Inasmuch as our dream thoughts are expressions of many of the deepest tendencies in our nature, this preoccupation with self is significant. The same is true with day-dreams. Catch yourself in some moment of reverie and note what you are thinking about. It is quite likely you will discover that you are thinking about yourself. You are imagining yourself in some heroic role, or playing with the idea of yourself as an important and successful person, or are in fancy enjoying yourself in one way or an other. Many of our reveries are devices for escaping reali- ties of life and moulding them nearer to our heart’s desire. The am- bitious dreams of youth are all of this nature. The young man with political aspirations seldom deliberately calculates the objective good he may do in performing the duties of his office. He does not forget himself [133] e 134 in contemplating the needs of his country. He is thinking about his fu- ture career. He pictures political campaigns, his photograph being carried in a political procession, himself making speeches to large cheering throngs. The young lover does not merely lose himself in reverie about his beloved. He imagines all sorts of scenes in which he appears heroic to her. Per- haps her house will take fire and he will rush in at the risk of his life and rescue her while all present applaud the brave deed. Even in our most unselfish meditation there is a large element of thinking about ourselves. The idealist, dreaming of a better social order in which all men may be happier and more kindly, nevertheless finds satisfaction in the thought that in some way his own acts may help bring about this better world; that is, he conceives of himself as a savior of the world. Notice the ap- peals to such fancies about ourselves in the advertisements of those books and courses of study which advise gullible persons how, by some magic, they may become cultivated, successful individuals with pleasing person- alities. In fact, this wish for instantaneous and magical self-transforma- tion is so wide-spread that persons who want to make easy money often cannot resist the temptation to play upon it. Notice also how we love to appear important. We love titles. We wish to impress ourselves upon people. On trains you frequently find people who make the most serious effort to create a good impression upon persons whom they have never seen before and know that they will never see again as long as they live. In fact, we strive very hard for the good opinion of people whose opinion about every other subject except our- selves we may absolutely despise. We cannot bear to see the image of ourselves shrink before the eyes of anybody. We love to see our names in print. If we know that our name is to be included in “Who’s Who,” we probably subscribe to the next issue. Even the most independent and unambitious of scholars subscribe to clipping bureaux if they imagine that their names may appear in the papers. One of the reasons why there is so much advertising to-day is that business men love to see their names and the names of the products which they make plastered on bill-boards and written in letters of blazing light in the night sky. Even philosophers cannot escape this all-too-human tendency. Schopenhauer was furious because Hegel was more popular than he. Nietzche, after saying many times that the philosopher must be a higher man, aloof and alone, despising the judgment of the multitude, was tremendously grateful when Georg Brandes, the arbiter of literary fame in Europe, at last gave him recogni- tion. Even Emerson, a lofty apostle of the individual soul, still shows that that individual soul was sometimes Emerson himself. Note these lines in the poem, ‘6 Goodbye, Proud World, I am Going Home,” written after Emerson’s visit to Europe: “And when I am safe in my sylvan home, “T tread on the power of Greece and Rome; “But what are they all in their proud conceit, “When man in the bush with God may meet.” One reason why people forget names is that they are all the time thinking about themselves. Another illustration of the preoccupation with self may be seen on any Elevated Railway station. Why do you suppose 135 they put looking-glasses on the penny-in-the-slot machines which sell chewing gum? The men in the chewing gum business are good psycholo- gists. If you want people to look at a thing put a mirror on it. I only wish the purchasers of the gum would look at themselves after they have begun chewing it. Hume raised the problem whether man is ever capable of a disinter- ested act. He settled it in the affirmative and I think correctly so, for the self that we are so concerned about is not often the self of our gross ma- terial interest, but is more frequently the idea which we have. about our- self. It is doubtful if anyone can or ever does really accept a low estimate of himself or think of himself as a total and absolute failure or inferior. Always there is some consoling thought, some compensation or protest. It is true that we all have the “inferiority complex,” to some degree, but : there are few of us indeed who do not, as a consequence, make much of the virtues we do happen to have. I call such virtues “ virtues of extenua- tion.” To be sure, there are abnormal persons who may, and sometimes do, entertain such a low estimate of themselves. But such persons are suffering from a depression and their thought of themselves is a symptom of a disease known as melancholia. Julius Caesar, the “ greatest man of antiquity,” lost his life because “ Caesar was ambitious.” Even the saints who perform the most heroic acts of self-denial are yet not adverse to the thought that they are saints, and it is among these religious spirits that belief in the immortality of the soul is strongest. We are so inter- ested in ourselves that we just cannot imagine the universe continuing to exist without us. Hence, the thought of self is an important element in human life. The self ideal is an object with which we are tremendously pre- occupied. I shall treat self as an object, not as a subject. The older thinkers were inclined to regard self-consciousness as a stbjective feeling. James says that this feeling is purely objective. This may be a new point of view to many who have been in the habit of thinking of “ self-con- sciousness ”’ in the old subjective way. James says that the self of which we are conscious is just as truly an objective thing as are any of the things about us which we see and touch, What We Mean by Self. What, then, do we think about when we think about ourselves? First, let us notice that this self cannot be an “original datum,” by which I mean that it is not a given subjective or spiritual entity of which we have any innate or immediate awareness. We have no a priori intuition of self. Kant speaks of the transcendental ego and the empirical ego. By tran- scendental ego he means a mysterious principle of personality, the “ pure self,” which exists outside of experience. He says we can never know this pure self. The self we know is the empirical self, or the self which 1s the object of experience. This self belongs to the “phenomenal” world. That is, it is conditioned upon human thinking and suffers from the in- evitable errors and limitations of such thinking. It does not correspond to reality. I do not wish to approach the subject in Kant’s way. Let us take a genetic view of this problem; that is, let us trace the development of the idea itself from infancy on, and we shall see that this idea is not inborn, 136 it does not come suddenly; it is a human construction, a hypothesis, if you will. There is no evidence that a child opens its eyes on this world and thinks: “ Behold me, I am a soul, an ego, a unique spiritual fact.’’ A child may become a unique individual or tend to approach it in later years. But no invisible soul enters into it with its first breath. It is doubtful whether the human infant has any feelings about itself that are different from those of other young mammals. Like the others, it is born with various reflexes and bodily feelings. But these are not yet integrated into any sort of individuality. A little child is occupied with its various specific organic responses and it is a long time before even these specific re- sponses, except the most elemental ones, are integrated into behavior pat- terns in which the whole organism is deliberately and consciously involved. It is many months before the child succeeds in discovering its own body or recognizes that its various organs belong to the same person. The child must first get an image of its physical organism as a whole, and it is doubtful if we ever quite succeed in doing this even in adult life. We haven’t a very clear idea just what we look like. People who have once been slender and suddenly grow stout often continue to think of them- selves as sylph-like. Also, it is difficult for us to take in the fact that we are beginning to look old. We are surprised, often a little disillusioned, when first we find that young people take it for granted that we are mem- bers of the older generation. Again, to have a sense of self, the child must develop a feeling of the continuity of its stream of experiences. I mean, it must be able to refer its past experiences to its own past. Here, too, success is never absolute as it would be if self were a given object complete from the beginning. There are certain incidents which happened in my childhood and to this very day I am not sure whether they happened to myself or to my brother. I am sure many other persons have such confused memories. There is an enormous amount of repression going on in the first years of childhood and this repression is a kind of forgetting. Psychopathologists have only recently come to understand how much we have each forgotten of those early years. It is possible through the technique of psycho-analysis to restore many of these memories. Surely then we should expect to find that the sense of self in these early memories is slow-developing and often vague. Again, the child who has a full sense of self must be able to place him- self correctly as a member of the family, of the community, and so on. He must acquire the habit of responding in a certain way to his name, and to use correctly the personal pronouns. I am sure that very much of our sense of self depends upon this. Little children very frequently speak of themselves in the third person, even after they learn to talk fairly well. Consequently, before an idea of the self can be entertained, a child must have developed language habits. The idea of the self, therefore, is learned. It is a habit, and is acquired in much the same way that other habits are acquired. Similarly, if the idea of self is learned, it is not the object of instinc- tive knowledge. We hear a great deal about the ego-instincts in psychology to-day. The Freudians particularly seem enamored of this concept. One may speak of such an instinct only if he wishes to include in his concept of instinct in general the element of knowledge or of feeling. 13/7 Thus it is sometimes held that this ego-instinct is a sort of three dimen- sional affair, having its cognitive side which is instinctive self-knowledge, its affective side, which, according to McDougall, consists of two opposite feelings, the positive self feeling he calls “self-appreciation’’ and the negative self-feeling he calls “ self-depreciation.” Finally, there is the conative side of this instinct which consists of the acts which one is in- stinctively impelled to do in the interests of his ego. Freudians correctly diagnose many forms of abnormal mentality as symptoms of a disturbance of the ego. I do not, however, believe that such diagnoses necessarily or correctly demand that we should assume the existence of an ego-instinct. It is only necessary to say that such ab- normal phenomena are the result of wrong thinking about ourselves. What I said about instinct in the lecture on that subject applies to the so-called “ ego-instinct.” Let us again follow Watson, who has dealt with the subject of instinct in a manner free from the confusion which char- acterizes the usual treatment of the subject, and let us remember that by the term instinct we mean “an inherited mode of response of the pattern re- action type.” This view of the ego-instinct necessarily excludes habit and learning ; in other words, the element of knowledge of self. Whatever self-interest may be, then, we probably have no right to assume the existence of an “ ego-instinct.”” When we look for the pat- terns which are concerned with the self or ego, we see that there are none directly concerned with the ego as such. The patterns wherever found will be those of mere instinctive behavior toward certain outside objects. Let us note the so-called instinct of self preservation. As James showed, this is a pure abstraction. We cannot conceive of animals as motivated in their acts by such general ends as these. An instinct is al- ways a specific response toward some definite object. When an organism runs away from a dangerous object we may say his action is instinctive flight; when he seeks food, we may say that his action is characterized by instinctive hunger. Now it happens that these instincts and many others have survival value. The instinct of flight, for instance, may preserve the life of the organism. So will the instinct to fight, on certain occasions. Let us characterize these instinctive acts for what they are. Why say that they are also the instincts of self-preservation? Psychologists who say this would seem to be merely abstracting the element of survival from various instinctive actions and making out of this abstract element a separate instinct. Self Feeling is Objective. Self-knowledge, therefore, if it is knowledge, is neither instinctive nor intuitive. No unique datum is given in either of these ways. What then do we think when we think about ourselves? Do we think about anything at all? Is the object of our thought merely illusion? I do not think so. It contains many elements and is probably more in the nature of an inference than of an immediate awareness of any one object. James says, “ Certain things, objects, appeal to our instinctive primitive impulses. These objects our consciousness treats as the primordial con- stituents of its me. . . . Whatever other objects, whether by as- sociation with the fate of these, or in any other way, come to be followed with the same sort of interest form our remoter and more secondary self. 138 The words “ me,” then, and “ self,” so far as they arouse feeling and con- note emotional worth, are objective designations, meaning all the things which have power to produce in a stream of consciousness excitement of a certain peculiar sort.” “We see no reason to suppose that self-love is primarily or second- arily or ever love for one’s mere principle of conscious identity. Its own body, then, first of all, its friends next, and finally, its spiritual dispositions must be the supremely interesting objects for each human mind. . . . If the zoological and evolutionary “view is the true one, there is no reason why any object whatever might not arouse passion and in- terest as primitively and instinctively as any other. . . . I might conceivably be as much fascinated and as primitively so by the care of my neighbor’s body as by the care of my own. The only check to such ex- uberant altruistic interests is natural selection which would weed out such as would be very harmful to the individual or to his tribe. Many inter- ests, however, remain unweeded out—the interest in the opposite sex, for example, which seems in mankind stronger than is called for by its utili- tarian need—and along side of them remain interests like that in alcoholic intoxication or in musical sounds which for aught we can see are without any utility whatever.” “An original central self-feeling can never explain the passionate warmth of our self regarding emotions which must, on the contrary, be addressed to special things, less abstract and empty of content. To these things the name of self may be given, or to our conduct toward them the name of selfishness, but neither in the self nor in selfishness does the pure thinker play the title role.” James further says that the sense of personal identity is the sense of sameness perceived by thought and predicted by things thought about. It is exactly like anyone of our other perceptions of sameness among phenomena. When we say, then, “I am the same as I was yesterday,” we say so because there is a certain similarity in the two selves thought of which leads us to identify them logically. There is nothing different in this from my saying that my table is the same as it was yesterday, except that in the case of my personal identity the element of sameness is known t9 me in the form of a certain bodily feeling, but this bodily feeling is just as objective as my sensation of any other object. James in treating of the empirical self says that in thinking of it we really are thinking about certain objects toward which we feel in a certain way. We have a peculiar interest in them, so that when they succeed we feel happy and important, and when they fail we feel that something has vanished from our inmost life. These are objects which can never be regarded as mere means. They seem to be ends in themselvs and they are objects which we do not share, and hence the contemplation of them gives us a sense of indi- viduation. In this way, objects which in themselves would never be as- sociated at all perhaps come to be stamped with this peculiar emotional interest we have in them and to take on the character of a personal iden- tity. James, in dealing with the subject of self, shows that we have really many selves, the “ material me,” the “social me,” and the “ spirit- ual me.” 139 James says that the body is the inmost part of the material self in each of us. He further adds that we identify ourselves with some parts of the body more than with others. Yet it cannot be denied that we think of our whole organic existence as ourselves. The pride and sense of self-esteem which many people show in their physical appearance is well known. Something of this we all have. Much of our egoism can be traced back by psycho-analysts to forgotten exhibitionist tendencies of infancy. There are certain bodily defects concerning which almost anyone would feel a sense of shame, a shrinking of the self. And with bodily importance go also our clothes. Many a person poorly clad feels a sense of inferiority. And the reverse of this is true also. Many people find in extravagant dress a protest against the feeling of inferiority. This identification of ourself with our clothes leads to a very common form of speech. Let one put on a new article of clothing and the first person met will be asked: “ How do I look?” There are religious sects who seek to minimize this “ bodily me,” who fight against it and humiliate it as if it were the enemy of the other “mes.” Such religious practices are known as “asceticism.” Speaking from the standpoint of psychology, asceticism may be analyzed into some- thing more serious than mere hostility to the body. It contains an element of hostility toward life itself, and is closely allied with those neurotic symptoms which psychologists designate as diseases of the ego due to a withdrawal of vital interests from certain objects because the subject is unable to react to them with emotional adequacy. Thus it is apparent that the bodily self is deeply involved in the whole behavior of the ego. James says that along with the body the “material me” includes also our possessions. There is no clear cut distinction between “me” and “mine.” Popular speech gives evidence of this fact in the common saying that a man is “ worth” so and so, when it is meant that he possesses a certain amount of property. Let the average person suddenly come into the possession of wealth and the enlargement of his ego is easily notice- able. In fact, this is one of the most common devices for seeking self- importance among mediocre people and accounts for that over-stimula- tion of men’s ambitions for material success so characteristic of demo- cratic civilization. The social self or “me” is the recognition one gets from his fellow beings; in other words, it is the reflection of our image in the attitude of other people to us. We are deeply concerned about what people think of us and are likely to assume the behavior patterns and accept uncritically the opinion of persons who make up the group to which we belong. As James says, our good or evil opinion of ourself depends largely upon this social recognition. We love to be im things. Even Caesar loved flattery. “No more fiendish punishment could be devised, were such a thing physically possible, than that one should be turned loose in society and remain absolutely unnoticed by all the members thereof.” We always feel inferior if people cut us dead. James further says that, properly speaking, men have as many social selves as there are individuals who recognize them. But, inasmuch as one’s contacts with individuals take place in certain group associations, we may say that one has as many social selves as there are groups to which 140 he belongs, and we may further say that his self-appreciation is not a uni- form thing but varies according to the standard of honor that obtains in this or that group. Thus, the non-combatant feels no sense of dishonor in fleeing as a refugee before an invading enemy, but the soldier’s honor demands a different type of behavior. Much of the inconsistency in hu- man behavior grows out of the different social selves which are competing in us for mastery. The traditional deacon who is pious on Sunday and cheats his neighbors on week days is not necessarily a hypocrite, but a victim of conflicting social selves. He is not very different from the small boy who is very demure and obedient at home under the watchful parental eye, but who, when out among his school-boy associates, will swear and swagger and smoke cigarettes. Honor in the boy-world may demand that sort of behavior, but not so honor at home. For this rea- son it is doubtful if the behavior of anyone is consistent. The point, however, is that we get our sense of self very largely from the people with whom we associate. The “ spiritual self ” is simply, as James says, our thought of ourself as thinkers; in other words, it is that sense of self that comes from con- templating our own mental processes. The feeling we have here, like all emotion, as James says, is bodily feeling and is, therefore, objective in the same way that the feeling about our other selves is objective. Out of these various elements which go to make up our thought of ourselves some order or integration must be achieved. First we arrange the selves into some scheme of relative importance. Some things in us will give us a keener sense of importance or inferiority than other things. This James calis the “ jierarchy of the mes” and he says that we achieve it very largely by means of a process of selection. Choose a self and stand by it, he says. “A tolerably unanimous opinion ranges the different selves of which a man may be ‘seized’ and ‘possessed’ and the con- sequent different orders of his self-regard in a hierarchical scale with the bodily me at the bottom, the spiritual me at the top, and the extra cor- poreal material self and the various social selves between.” Of course, in all this there is rivalry and conflict. “ Not that I would not, if I could be both handsome and fat and well-dressed and a great athlete and make a million a year; be a wit, bon vivant, and a lady killer, as well as a philosopher, philanthropist and statesman, warrior, an African explorer, as well as a tone poet and saint. But the thing is impossible. The millionaire’s work would run counter to the saint’s; the bon vivant and the philanthropist would trip each other up; and the philosopher and lady- killer could not keep house in the same tenement of clay.” At the outset perhaps various of these rival selves might be possible to us, but as we mature and develop certain habits these possibilities are closed and we settle down to a relatively harmonious group of selves with one of them predominant, and on this we stake our salvation, reckoning it no shame to fail in any of those not adopted as specifically our own, The Construction of the “ Personality Picture.” From a somewhat different point of view I wish to discuss this gradual adoption of a self as our own. I should say that a self which we habitually appropriate is in a way not so much adopted as created by us. It is a character sketch which we spend our lives in drawing. The 141 term which I prefer to use is personality picture. In a sense, we ate each an artist, spending his life painting an imaginary portrait of himself. We are, by our deeds and choices, really writing our autobiography and this autobiography, like all others, is a work of fiction. It is a necessary fic- tion, however, and the success or failure of our life depends on how good an imaginary portrait we paint; in other words, how well we succeed in making our life a work of art. We begin in a fumbling way, as children begin to learn to draw. Slowly and with much effort and erasing, with many a wrong stroke, we acquire greater skill and the details of the features gradually appear with ever greater and greater distinctness. At first we do not know just what the picture is which we are to spend our life in painting. The very plan and form of this picture is created as we go along, until we reach the place finally where we see what it is we are painting, and then it is gener- ally too late to impose upon it another character and we are left with the task of perfecting the one we have started. Dr. Alfred Adler, the Viennese psychologist, uses the terms “ imagin- ary goals’ and “fictitious guiding lines.” He says that such an imaginary goal is created, begining with early childhood, as a protest against the feel- ing of inferiority. A child, for any reason whatsoever—its weakness, smallness, bodily defect, real or imagined backwardness, may feel himself to be inferior and so he begins to protest against the self-depreciative feel- ing which accompanies all such thoughts. He forms a habit of comparing himself with other persons, of testing his powers. In imagination he identifies himself with those he admires. He entertains an ideal of the man he would like to be and imagines himself to be that sort of person in anticipation of his attainment of the ideal. Brill has shown that everyone has what-he calls an “ emphatic index.” By this he means that it is possible for a psychologist to discover who the person is with whom each of us unconsciously identifies himself. Many identify themselves with Napoleon. Others, with Lincoln or George Washington, or Theodore Roosevelt. One may often notice the Na- poleonic frown on the brow of a business man which is his way of telling the world that he considers himself a “ Napoleon of finance.” One fre- quently sees men who make an effort to smile and show their teeth like Yheodore Roosevelt. Now these forms of identification are not confined to superficial gestures. They determine the guiding line which one fol- lows through life. Sometimes the identification is with the parent images and in such cases there frequently happen the unfortunate results which we saw in the lecture on Freud. Adler says that when we make our choices we do not accept or reject things because of their intrinsic worth, but because we have referred them to our personality picture. If they seem to be the sort of things that the individual we have created in this picture would do, we say yes to them; if not, we reject them, and, if this is impossible, we repress them; that is, we ignore their existence, whether they exist as tendencies in our- selves or as facts in our environment. This is the function of the per- sonality picture. It is an instrument of orientation, by which I mean that its function is to give us a basis for locating ourselves among the pos- ‘bilities of experience so that our course of life takes a certain direction. 142 And this is supremely important for us, for otherwise our existence would be a complete chaos. So imporant is this function of the personality picture that we may well say that it is the most important thing about us. The reason why men guard it so carefully and are so upset if anything defaces it, is pre- cisely because it is a vital instrument of choosing. When it functions properly, we know what we want. We can sustain a purpose, achieve a career, become a personality. Thus the personality picture is our “ char- acter,” our empirical “soul.” The deepest truths of religion have some- thing to do with our attempts to preserve this personality picture. The sense that we have not painted the picture which we believe we ought to have painted is called the feeling of sin. The desire to preserve the picture, to see it beautiful and clearly drawn, is the longing for the “salvation of the soul.” The reason men resent insult and cannot bear the feeling of inferiority is because these things tend to mar and disfigure this picture which they so carefully guard. When I say the picture is fiction, I do not mean that it is all fiction. Of course, it is founded on fact, but nevertheless it contains, just as in the act of choosing a career, much that is anticipated, much that is pure desire, much self-idealization. One important difference among men is the manner in which they strive to preserve their personality picture in- tact. Adler says that the neurotic individual invents an imaginary goal for himself which it is beyond his power to achieve. This goal, however, gives him consolation. He strives in everyway to secure himself in it. lt becomes an imaginary refuge from the real. He invents all sorts of devices to preserve it from the realities which would challenge it. Finally, he builds for it a castle in Spain within whose impenetrable walls of fancy he lives with it in seclusion, sequestered from the contemplation of any reality which would cause him to face the facts about himself. Such persons are psychopathic. Their one aim in life is to defend their ego-fiction. They preserve their personality picture static, unmodi- fied by experience. They fail to live genuinely because in all things they are merely seeking to save their spiritual faces. Their picture ceases to be an instrument of orientation. It draws them away from the tasks of life toward an asylum in which the picture is an end in itself. Healthy- minded people are able to revise their personality pictures in the light of experience. They seek to preserve them, not by keeping them static, but in activity. They are capable of self-criticism. They learn to think not merely for the sake of thinking away that which conflicts with their ideal of them- selves. They think in order to solve problems, and the courageous facing of any fact or the solution of any problem leaves its imprint upon the self- ideal so as to develop and strengthen it. The Emotions Associated with the Self-Ideal. Dr. Bernard Glueck gives us a list of four types of emotions which are associated with the desire to keep up the ego-ideal. First, there is the desire for new experience. I should call this the desire for adven- ture. We hate humdrum and monotony and grow tired of ourselves when such is our lot. We feel ourselves to be mediocre, when caught in a dull routine. There is a sort of self-expansiveness in the sense of adventure. 143 This is why men pursue game, love to travel, read stories of romance and make of the pursuit of knowledge an adventure. Much depends upon the sort of things one forms the habit of making his adventure, and here the personality picture comes to be the deciding factor. When life ceases to be an adventure there is a distinct psychic loss,—a listlessness, inattentive- ness, a withdrawal of interest which psycho-pathologists describe as “an introversion of the libido.” The vital interest turns from objects to which the individual can no longer react with emotional satisfaction, and is di- rected inward toward the ego ideal itself. In such cases, there 1s com- monly a serious disturbance of the whole personality. The second emotion which Dr. Glueck points out is the desire for security. Not mere physical or economic security, but the security of the ego-ideal. We have already dealt with this point, but I should like to add a word about the social significance of this desire. Much depends upon the way in which this security is sought in society, whether by a dull conformity to convention, or by training people in habits of self-mastery, which is, after all, mastery over something in the environment. It is coming to be the fashion to try to secure character by removing tempta- tion. If a motion picture theatre suggests to the neurotic individual an erotic impulse or the idea of committing a crime, we must have a solemn censorship over all such public entertainments. If a work of fiction or even a literary classic disturbs a moron we have a “clean books bill.” If a neurotic cannot pass a saloon without going in and becoming intoxicated, cultivated people may no longer serve wine at their dinner tables. From the standpoint of social psychology this is a wrong-headed method of procedure. It simply forces upon all people the moral dilemmas of the most inferior. A community, like an individual, is known by the dilemmas it keeps. The removal of temptations does not develop character. It simply represents the survival values of lower types of men. A third desire associated with the ego is the desire for recognition. Under this head, are listed various devices for achieving distinction in the eyes of the public or attracting attention to ourselves—ambition, ar- rogance, vanity, and so on. Perhaps envy should be listed under this head also, inasmuch as it is frequently the vanity of the unsuccessful. When this desire for recognition consists merely in such things as “ fish- ing ’’ for compliments, love of praise, it is not very serious. When it com- pels persons to strive for real distinction of worth, it is, of course, a wholesome and natural thing. It is very likely that a society, when it loses its sense of distinction among men, will lose the very basis of its cultural value. The desire becomes psychopathic when it leads to the delusion of grandeur or the delusion of “reference.” The former delu- sion needs no explanation. There are individuals ranging all the way from normal persons to paranoiacs who are the victims of such delusions. Conceited persons of this type are common and their conceit is very com- monly a self-defense against a feeling of inferiority. The delusion of reference is a term used by psychologists to describe the behavior of per- sons who think that everything said and done by the persons in their environment has some special reference to themselves. A common form of this delusion exists in most of us. If we hear a number of persons near us laughing, it is often not easy to dispel the idea that they may be laughing at us, even when there is no evidence that this is so. 144 Finally there is the desire for response. This is not quite the same as the desire for recognition. It is the wish for something more intimate. How many people there are who feel that they are “not understood.” We wish somebody to understand us, to love us. Romantic love, domestic- ity, friendship, are all features of this desire. And its negative reaction types are home sickness and loneliness. There is an abnormal form of this desire which sometimes occurs when the individual finds himself not at home in the environment of mature life and returns in imagination and fixes his emotional interest upon the parent image. Persons suffering from this infantile return are frequently unable to give themselves with any genuine emotion or affection to the love of anyone, however much they may desire to do so. Perhaps in such cases the desire for response is too strong, so that the individual never wholly detaches himself from the memory of the time when his ego found satisfaction in the fact that he was the most important person in the world to his father and mother. In all these things and in many others, the drama of life centers about the fictions which we invent about ourselves. Many social movements, political ideals, religious practices, reforms, utopian dreams, have the function primarily of defending the ego against the inferiority complex. Enormous groups of men, finding their ego fictions similarly challenged, form crowds of one sort or another, comprising sometimes whole classes and nations. I have shown in another connection that much of the think- ing of crowds, their dogmas and propagandas and panaceas, does not solve, environmental problems, but is a collective face-saving device. We should learn to recognize these protests in ourselves and in others. They are not always easily recognizable for what they are because they assume such pompous forms of disguise. The trained mind, however, will learn to pierce through these disguises, recognize the ego-interests for what they are, face the facts about himself, and strive to form such habits of thinking as will keep his ego interest normal. After all, one thing is certain: no civilization or social order can easily survive which offends the ego-feeling of too large a portion of the population. Men will always resent exploitation and tyranny and coercion because it gives them an inferiority complex to be “bossed” about. “ That gov- ernment is best which governs least.” This statement is still psychologically true. There should be the very greatest caution in resorting to coercion even for the sake of the most moral ends. The moral ends proposed may turn out to be mere justifications for somebody’s wish to lord it over his neighbors and to be important. We place too much emphasis upon ae control these days. Normal self-hood can exist only where there is reeaom, LECTURE XI ‘The Unconscious and its Influence upon Human Behavior. ~ Pe on > a agi ¥ es * a 2 a he THE UNCONSCIOUS AND ITS INFLUENCE ON HUMAN BEHAVIOR. F WHAT I said in the previous lecture about the self is correct, there is more in our nature than we ever succeed in organizing into a con- scious self. As we have seen, the “personality picture” is really a selec- tion. It is a form of self-idealization. It necessarily leaves out many things which, while they are incompatible with it, are never- theless parts of our being. We saw how important this mat- ter of selection is. As James said, when we are very young we may become one of any number of possible selves. As we grow older we “choose a self and stand by it.” I do not mean that we consciously and all at once decide that we are to be a “saint” or a “ philanthropist ” or an “African explorer’? or a “ lady-killer.’ As I said in the earlier lecture, the formation of our personality picture or imaginary goal is a gradual process, beginning with a very vague and dimly outlined dominant tendency. As the personality picture becomes constructed it acts to check tendencies in our nature which are hostile to it. Many of these tendencies are such that they are really unacceptable to consciousness. Therefore, ee are put out of mind. We finally cease to attend them, and “ repress ”’ them. This fact of selection, as James says, is essential to the psychic life. Our sense organs are such that we respond to only a very small number of all the movements of matter which might stimulate us. There may be countless forms of vibrations about us like the wave-lengths which carry radio messages. We have no way of reacting directly to such vibrations, but it is conceivable that living beings might exist which would respond to various electrical wave lengths with as definite sensations as we have in responding to light waves. Even of the few kinds of stimuli to which we do respond, we select a very narrow range. Sound waves and light waves other than this small number—those, for instance, that are longer or shorter than the waves in the solar spectrum—we cannot see. Of the sensations which we do have, we pay attention to only a small por- tion. While one is listening to a lecture there are many stimuli playing upon him, to which he does not respond consciously. Some responses, of course, must be made, but the clock may be ticking, there may be various other noises in the room, or out on the street; there are various stimuli con- nected with the lights in the room, there is the pressure of one’s clothes on the body, together with various muscle sensations due to remaining in a sitting posture for many minutes, and there are the movements of people about us. All of which may pass unnoticed if one is paying attention to what is being said. Of the things to which we pay attention, again, only a very small portion remains as part of our conscious existence. We forget much, we ignore much; in fact, our thinking is possible only because we are partial to objects. Finally there is our guiding line in life which is itself an instru- ment of choosing, determining that we shall be interested in some lines of behavior rather than in others. Such a highly specialized consciousness as that of humanity is possible only at the cost of great “slaughter” of [147] 148 possible experience. Our consciousness is like a spot-light that follows a moving character upon a stage, bringing him into full view, yet, as it moves here and there with him, flashing upon other forms hidden in the shadow. ‘These other forms do not cease to exist merely because they are not the star-performer. There are all sorts of potential selves, for- gotten childhood experiences, wishes and fancies and impulses, which haunt us even in our most deliberately thoughtful moments. Many become the playmates of our idle hours. Some of them we can never bring to the light of knowledge. We feel their effects but do not know what they are. They are like children playing pranks upon us, knocking on our door on Halloween and scampering away before we can open it and see them. Often you are reminded of something. To save your life you can- not tell what it is. Again, it is as if you were trying to remember a name which you have forgotten. Though you know perfectly well that the name is not Smith or Jones, yet you cannot speak it. How is it that you cannot do this, and that when the name is recalled to you, you can recognize it? In other words, how can something which you do not know, enable you to know that another thing is not that? Obviously, while you are not thinking it, it still must have some influence upon you. So with many other things which we do not think of. There are many indications that the unorganized psychic material produces effects in our behavior. It plays many little tricks on us. We shall see later that it is the cause of many of the errors we make. It conditions our temperament. It determines largely our likes and dislikes; causes all sorts of obsessions to haunt our minds; is the source of many forms of elation and depression, and inspires many of the fictions which constitute our reveries. Even the very useful fiction about ourselves is to no small extent unconsciously determined. Before Freud’s day such facts were studied. Psychologists were interested in what they called the “ sub-conscious’”’ or the “ co-conscious.” Facts of hypnotism and of multiple personality were known and discussed. The older psycho-therapeutics made much of the so-called “ sub-conscious,” as did also the cult known as New Thought. Much of the thinking about the sub-conscious was mystical and pseudo-scientific. Many people made a sort of pantheistic god of it. They seemed to believe that it was the same in all persons, and that most of the miseries of human life were due to the fact that we had somehow got out of tune with this “ Infinite.” in other words, people tried to make of the sub-conscious a secret back- stairs upon which they imagined they could sneak up into the presence of supe.-mundane reality. ah te) NS cei SOR RE In the lecture on Freud we saw that scientists now are beginning to take a less mystical view of this phenomenon. We have already dis- cussed certain phases of the unconscious and have seen how Freud and his followers are making it necessary that psychologists abandon their old narrower intellectualism and take a larger view of human nature. Freud’s use of the term “unconscious” has brought him much criticism. It is said that the unconscious is an unproved hypothesis and a gratuitious assumption; that it is mystical and self-contradictory. How, it is asked, can ideas, feelings and memories exist in the unconscious? Is it not 149 necessary that these things be conscious in order to exist at all? It is not our purpose to enter upon a discussion of these criticisms. Perhaps Freud does not really mean that there are unconscious ideas and feelings. There has been a great deal of misunderstanding about this term. Even if it could be shown that Freud considers the unconscious to be a thing, a separate department, I am not sure that it is necessary for us so to regard it. In his book, “ The Interpretation of Dreams” Freud does suggest, I think, a rather unfortunate diagram. The mind is pictured as if consciousness were a small porch or vestibule, opening into a sort of large hall which is called the fore-conscious; back of this is a great dark building, composing most of the psyche. This Freud calls the unconscious. However, I suspect that such a view is really only intended to be a figure of speech. Freud is certainly on more solid ground when he argues that the unconscious is merely an hypothesis, constructed in order to explain cer- tain facts of behavior, facts which, Freud contends, cannot be explained on any other theory. In his book, “General Introduction to Psycho- Analysis,’ he says that certain patients behave in the same manner as a hypnotized person behaves, to whom an injunction has been given that five minutes after awakening he is to open an umbrella. When he obeys this order, what shall we say about his motive? He is acting upon an impulse which he does not take cognizance of. He is not aware that he has been told to open the umbrella. Now a trauma, that is, a shock, or a fixation, may cause one to behave in the same way. A painful experience which causes a person to suffer intense conflict—for instance, an impulse or wish which he entertains but refuses to admit because, let us say, it is in conflict with his moral principles—may, together with the incidents originally associated with it, still produce effects in his behavior though he has entirely forgotten it. One of Freud’s early patients, a hysterical woman, came to him suffering from hysterical lameness. She had no idea what had caused her to have her symptoms. After a long and difficult analysis she recalled a number of incidents, among them the occasion on which she learned that her sister was dead. Her sister had been married to a man for whom this patient had a regard which she had never admitted to herself. When the news of her sister’s death came, the thought flashed through this woman’s mind, “now he is free and can marry me.” But this was a disloyal thought, and to the patient it was so horrible that, even when she recalled it in the process of analysis, she experienced violent emotion. However, we are told that her symptoms disappeared. JI am not reporting this case because of any interest in psycho-analysis as a form of cure, but simply to illustrate the point that here was a person who was enduring certain bodily states because of a preoccupation with or defense against something which she had entirely forgotten. What else should we say but that the repressed wish was in this case an unconscious one? As Freud says, it is as if certain persons do not get through a painful situation because they are unable to meet an overpowering emotional occasion. They are still pre-occupied with the event, though unconsciously so. This fixation and pre-occupation with an emotional situation may be either conscious or unconscious. The mourne 150 ing after the death of a loved-one is a conscious form of such pre-occupa- tion, or fixation. For a long period there may be a lack of interest in other things. The mind is caught and held by the painful thought and the behavior of the person suffering grief is conditioned by that thought. Now people may behave in much the same way even when their pre-occupation is not conscious. ‘There are persons who suffer depression quite as painful as that of a bereaved relative, who yet can give no intelligible account of the causes of such behavior. Freud calls attention in his book, “ Totem and Taboo,” to a neurotic form of grief. Often one who has nursed a relative through a long and exacting period of illness will, after the death of the sufferer, begin to accuse himself of neglect, feel that he has not done all that he could do. In such cases, Freud found that the real cause of such self-accusation is often the result of a wish, during the illness, that the patient might die. Such a wish, of course, cannot be entertained, being in conflict with the devotion to the sick person. It is, therefore, repressed and, though unconscious, still determines behavior. Rivers shows that the war neurosis, commonly known as “ shell- shock,” frequently grew out of unadmitted fear. He says that his “ shell-shocked ’”’ patients were commonly men who repressed their fear into the unconscious, and that men who admitted that they were afraid did not develop the war neurosis. Now in this use of the word uncon- scious it is not meant that the patient is absolutely unconscious. Of course, he is conscious of his symptoms and his modified behavior. What he is not conscious of is the cause of his symptoms. The Unconscious in Behaviorist Terms. Perhaps some of the difficulties regarding the unconscious may be solved if we try to express the facts of the case in ordinary psychological language. In the lecture on Habit, I said a good deal about the conditioned reflex. Unconscious impulses may be regarded as habits or as conditioned reflexes. In an earlier lecture, it will be remembered, I gave as an illustra- tion of the unconscious the example of the person coming to Cooper Union on the subway. I said that he decides to get off the train at Astor Place, then may occupy his thoughts with something else, may read a paper or talk, and during the time he is journeying to the lecture hall, he may not once think of the lecture or of getting out of the train at any particular station. When the guard calls out the station, Astor Place, I said, the passenger automatically gets up and leaves the car. He does not need to think all the time he is traveling that he must get out at Astor Place; he simply associates the name of the station with his impulse to leave the train, and then goes on thinking about something else. The asso- ciated impulse does not exist as an idea in his unconscious. It is simply a delayed response to stimulus. What he has done is merely to condition a reflex. He has conditioned the impulse to leave the train upon a future stimulus. Now there are many of our impulses which are conditioned upon future stimuli. They are delayed responses because we cannot act upon them. When we repress them—that is, put them into the unconscious —we simply are stimulated to act, but instead of acting, we withhold the response. Response is hence delayed. It becomes conditioned so that it will have a tendency to take place when stimuli are met which we do 151 not consciously recognize as stimuli. The response itself may again become conditioned; that is, instead of our acting in a way in which we naturally would when we are stimulated, the impulse may be drained off into another reflex which is a substitute for the original response. There is no reason why this process should be accompanied by consciousness. It will be remembered that when we were discussing the conditioned reflex we used Pawlov’s experiment on the dog. When a hungry dog is shown meat and secretes saliva, we may call the sight of the meat stimulus I, and the secretion of the saliva, response I. Now, when after ringing the bell each time the meat is shown him, the dog becomes so conditioned that he secretes saliva whenever he hears the bell without seeing the meat, we have merely put two reflexes together, as it were. We may speak of the sound of the bell as stimulus II and the response which the dog would naturally make to the bell as response II. The conditioned reflex means that in each of these reflexes, I and II, the stimulus and response are cut apart, so that response I is now connected with stimulus II. What becomes of response II, or the tendency to make such a response? Surely there still must be some slight impulse to give response II, even when stimulus II is made to be associated with response I. This tag-end of the reflex arc is still there in the nervous organization. Of course, it is now cut away from the general system of organized be- havior patterns of the individual. There must be an enormous number of such tag-ends of conditioned reflexes in human beings. These number II responses, we may say, do not ordinarily attain consciousness because they are not connected in the general scheme of our life’s organization. They may be implicitly active in all sorts of ways. They may be stimulated by all sorts of things which we do not notice. When they are, we have an unconscious impulse to act. This impulse is not at all the same as a stored-up idea or feeling. It is purely organic. Let us take a hypothetical case of a patient whose behavior is pathological because of certain unconscious motives. We make use of illustrations from abnormal psychology, not because we are interested in the morbid or because the unconscious is confined to psychopathic persons, but because such cases throw light upon behavior of normal persons. A man has been very faithful to his work, intensely interested in it and is beginning to receive some recognition in his profession. One day he suddenly leaves his office. Two days later he returns and cannot remem- ber anything that has happened in the meantime. The morning of his return he found himself, let us say, in Brooklyn. He is very much disturbed and rightly believes that there must be something wrong with him, though he does not know what it is. This inability to remember is called by psychopathologists amnesia. His behavior on the two or three days out of the office seems to be cut off from the ordinary stream of conduct by “memory gaps.” During the time the man has been away, we may say that he was suffering from a very acute attack of absent- mindedness, Yet it is quite likely that casual observers who saw him during this period would not think there was anything unusual about him. It is also likely that if he were hypnotized after his return, he would, it, the hypnotic stage, be able to recall what he did during those two 152 days. He consults a physician who merely tells him that he has been very much worried about his work, that he has been working too hard, and that he must take a rest. After a month’s vacation, he feels much improved. Shortly after this he is promoted to a responsible position, but instead of feeling elated he becomes greatly disturbed. He acts queerly. He doubts his ability to meet the new responsibilities which have been placed upon him. He becomes so pre-occupied with his work that his wife feels that he is neglecting her. As he lives in a suburb near the city, he finds it necessary often to remain in town until very late in order to give more time to his tasks. Later, he rents a cheap room in the city and it is some time before his wife is able to locate him. Finally, he is induced by his family and others to consult a psycho-analyst. Analysis reveals that his original leaving of his work was merely a substitute action for his later behavior in leaving home. His worry and over-anxiety about his profession is really a substitute for another form of anxiety which is unconscious. Consciously he believes that he loves his wife; but he is extremely restless, and analysis reveals the fact that he is not able, and never has been able, really to give his love to any woman because he thinks of every woman as if she were his mother. Therefore his wife, who now appears to him in the role of both wife and mother, brings up in his unconscious a painful conflict that began in his childhood, of the nature of which he is not aware. It may be shown that he was through- out his boyhood resentful and aloof and shrinking even from his mother. This conflict, we have seen in an earlier lecture, is known as the Oedipus Complex, and it would appear to be the only adequate explanation of this man’s behavior. Now let us note that the violent taboo which this man felt in regard to persons of the opposite sex is really a conditioned reflex. For the normal response there has been substituted a strong negative response. This negative response, the conflict and the sense of emotional failure, is itself conditioned so that it appears in overt behavior, or consciousness, as a fear of failure in his work or anxiety concerning his professional career. His running away from his work, as we have said, is really the symbolic expression of his wish to run away from home, a wish for which he gave no reason and which he cannot consciously recognize. This wish is what I meant by the term delayed response to stimulus. It is a response which becomes associated, therefore, or conditioned, with many future stimuli which are unrecognized, so that there may have been years during which unrecognized stimuli were perpetually functioning to excite this delayed form of response into activity. The restlessness which the man felt resulted from his impulse to act in ways that he did not understand. Yet there was no way in which he could make himself conscious of all this because the reflexes which constitute the delayed response were not organized in the man’s habitual behavior-patterns. This case illustrates what we mean by the unconscious. The Influence of the Unconscious on Behavior. I have given this illustration in the attempt to state the facts of the Freudian conception of the unconscious in such terms as will not make it necessary for us to assume that wishes and thoughts are somehow stored 153 up in a mysterious receptacle known as the unconscious. I am sure that much of the disinclination among psychologists to accept Freud comes from the fact that his terminology involves the apparent paradox of unconscious ideas, memories and wishes. Let us now note the influence of the unconscious upon the behavior of normal persons. Many illustrations of this fact may be seen in Freud’s book, “‘ The Psychology of Everyday Life” and in Brill’s, “ Fundamental Conceptions of Psycho-Analysis.’’ All persons normally must achieve a very great amount of repression in order that their mental life may be coordinated at ail. All learning or conditioning of reflex is, in fact, a form of repression. The discipline which the young child must endure in order to become a social being has as its end effective repression of this sort. Most adults have forgotten what it is to be a child. They have forgotten not only the things which they have repressed, but also much of the process of repression itself. This process is really painful. It makes the children cry. How many times has the child to be told “no.” With what resistance must it develop habits of obedience and of adjustment to other persons. Bodily habits must be trained; social habits, achieved. In all of which punishment, restraint and self-surrender are commonplaces. Where repression is finally successful the individual is normal, but there are many factors which make for failure. Wrong educa- tional methods, over-indulgence or too great strictness on the part of the parents, or precocious disillusion on the part of the child regarding any one of a thousand things, may result in trauma and fixation which ever afterward cripple the individual in certain respects. And perhaps there iS no One, even among normal people, who has not suffered to some degree at least in these ways. Now such training together with psychological accidents that may go with it, means that many forms of response to stimulus are delayed and conditioned. But some traces of the original reflexes remain and operate in the ways that I have tried to set forth. McDougall says that the instincts set the ends and furnish the driving force for all human activity, from the most trivial and primitive up to the highest and most complex. It would be more correct to say, that it is not instinct as such which so dominate us but certain “ complexes,” that is, we are all greatly influenced by our repressed impulses together with their unrecognized stimuli. Note what we mean by temperament. Our “temperament” consists of many kinds of attractions and repulsions, of elation or depression, of queer whimsicalities, hobbies, hopes, of which we cannot give a logical account. These things emanate from the unconscious: they are the uncon- scious. Psycho-dnalysts, together with William James, have pointed out the fact that even the greatest and most deliberate philosophers are influ- enced by their temperament to such an extent that their thinking is never pure logic, but is always modified by factors which are extra-rational. Thus a Plato is seeking with all his independent pursuit of knowledge to construct a logical system of ideas which will serve him as a refuge from a world where time is everlastingly creating unexpected realities and is forever sweeping all things away. The thinking of a Locke or a Hume, hard- headed as it is, is motivated in no small degree by a resistance to medieval- ism which comes largely from unconscious impulses. 154 Freud and Brill and other psycho-analysts have frequently pointed out the fact that such trivial mental phenomena as errors, slips of the tongue, etc., are determined by unconscious impulses. Brill gives a number of rather amusing illustrations of this fact. The following are typical: at an evening gathering the hostess has served her guests refreshments which are anything but adequate. The company is discussing Theodore Roosevelt; one of the guests remarks, that, at any rate, Roosevelt gives people a “square deal.” What she actually says is that Roosevelt gives people a “square meal.” ‘There is general laughter because the uncon- scious intent is here easily recognized. Again: one of Brill’s patients is very much given to the use of powder and rouge. The physician advises her to perform a difficult task and return and report to him afterward. When she returns for consultation, the doctor intends to put the question: “How did you make out?”; to his embarrassment, however, he says: “How did you make up?” Again, a woman forty years old is given the telephone number of a friend. The number is 1740. When asked if she could remember this number she laughingly said, “ Yes. Seventeen is the age I wish I were, and forty is unfortunately the age I am.” However, in writing the number down she writes it 1704; the mistake, we are told, is due to her unconscious resistance to the number 40. During the war a statesman who was deeply grieved over the enor- mous human slaughter, in an oration referred to international morality. What he said, however, was international mortality. If you watch yourself and other persezis in such commonplace errors or acts of forget- ting, you will often find illustrations of this sort. When we lose things there is commonly an unconscious reason. One frequently leaves an umbrella at the home of a friend where he has enjoyed a happy evening and where he wishes to return. An interesting error in printing came to my notice recently. A reactionary paper, describing an uproar created by members of the Labor Party in the House of Commons in England, referred to the event as the climax of socialist agitation. The word appeared in print as “ slimax.”’ a 4 j pe ’ ‘ 1 . Ah + ‘ yee as i FL } 1 4 Pi La Ys 7 \ i ' 7 ve ’ { é ‘ w Sas / Ww } Ar : LAV ee oO j 7 A = y ‘1 ; ; ; ads ee ny a). eee a eee TAT ap i U ‘444 0b : Fina wa ‘ j aby My ?u ara ta ~a ik: 4 qi ah ay, e Lo? ee tat ivae +7 Ar Lé ak | hee day ae) a sie Me an H ei a ee i a A ’ Bey a fa THE PSYCHOLOGY OF POLITICS. ROFESSOR Charles E. Merriam of Chicago University, tells a story which illustrates the attitude of many people toward political life. The governor of a certain state, after his inauguration, instead of spending most of his time building up an organization for his own support, distributing appointments as rewards for party service, took the unusual course of turning his attention toward the task for which he was elected. The impression this behavior made upon the party manager is interesting. He said, “I simply do not understand the governor. He seems to take no interest in these appointments; spends all of his time thinking about bills in the legis- lature and about his speeches. He doesn’t seem to care a damn for politics.” This was doubtless an unusual governor, for persons are commonly elected to office in America not because of any qualifications they have for the performance of their official duties, but rather because of their expertness in the game of politics. Politics is one thing; state-craft is another, though the two often overlap. We expect the holder of an office to be primarily concerned with politics. Politics is his business. That is why we elect him. The office is merely that which makes the business pay. Of course, this business, like all business, has its serious side. But as its ends are not identical with those of the government, it may often interfere seriously with the latter. Hence we use the term “ playing politics.” We know pretty well what we mean by this term. The newspapers, in discussing affairs in Washington, sometimes call attention to the merits of an act or policy and its effect on the life of the country. More frequently, how- ever, they discuss such an act from the standpoint of its effect upon various interested groups or upon the public mind. When one’s official acts are motivated primarily by considerations of his own political fortune or that of his party, that is playing politics. When one is more concerned with manipulating people than with serving them, that is politics. We generally deplore the fact that certain public affairs, like education, are dragged into politics. Of course, politics is not confined to affairs of government. There can be much playing of politics in schools, colleges and labor unions; in fact, politics may appear in any form of human association where it is possible for some individuals to gain an advantage over others. It is in the affairs of government, however, that politics may best be studied. Many such studies have been made and the result has not been very flattering to democracy. Politics is not anywhere a spontaneous popu- lar activity. It is an industry, very much like the motion picture industry, with the notable exception that it is subsidized out of the public treasury. Just as the managers of the motion picture theatres strive to interest and amuse the public, so do the managers of politics. In both cases these managers are usually shrewd in their judgments as to what will catch the attention of the average man. Some times they are rather crude in their appeal to the man on the street. On the whole, the [221] 222 success of a manager in either of these industries indicates that he has a more realistic grasp than his competitors of the general level of mentality among the patrons of the industry. In both politics and the motion picture industry, the public performs a more or less passive role. It can, by giving or withholding applause, indicate its general approval of what has been provided for it. It performs a certain amount of selection by patronizing one theatre rather than another, invariably giving its patronage to the more sensational one. When the quality of the entertainment is so bad as to put its patrons on the defensive, the public may even welcome a censorship of movies or politics in order that it may be protected against itself. But it cannot be said that the public has very much to do with the producing end of either of these industries. Its place is to watch the performance and to pay up. This is frequently recognized in regard to politics. I remember an incident in an Illinois town in the campaign of 1900. One of our political parties erected a large “wigwam” on a vacant lot and held frequent meetings there. On one occasion the greatest “rally”? of the campaign, there were present the candidates for the offices of vice-president and governor and many other important political figures. There was much speaking and the “ wigwam ” was so crowded that it was decided to hold two meetings, one in the after- noon and one at night. The county chairman of the party organiza- tion presided. In announcing the evening meeting he said: ‘“ Ladies and Gentlemen: I am authorized to announce that the next per- formance will begin at 8:00 o’clock.” The general laughter which followed this announcement indicated its truth, but that truth, how- ever, had no influence upon the election. The party which performed best won. The political life of the community is supposed to interest the whole population. But this is not the case. The whole population may suffer the ill effects of the political mis-management of public affairs, but the industry of politics though one of our largest indus- tries, appeals to comparatively few persons. I doubt if the politically interested public is as large as the theatre-going public, if we include within the latter the public to which the motion picture industry performs. Mr. Robert Michels, Professor of Political Economy of the University of Basle, has written an interesting book on political parties in Europe. He shows that everywhere the same condition obtains which we find in America. Only a small portion of the people have a lively interest in public affairs. This may be seen even in the most enthusiastic of parties, the Socialist Party. The most far-reach- ing and significant actions of that party are frequently decided upon by very small minorities. Here is a typical example: ‘The deputy Leonida Bissolati, a leading Italian Socialist and one of the founders of the party, was on November 5, 1905 (with other distinguished members) expelled from the party. The expulsion was effected at a meeting of the Roman branch. The full membership of this branch was 7/00, but only 100 were present at that meeting; of these, 55 voted for the exclusion and 45 against, 223 “In May, 1910, the same branch then containing about 600 mem- bers passed a resolution fiercely condemning the socialist deputies on account of their being too friendly with the minister. The resolution was carried by 41 votes against 24.”* Michels further calls attention to a fact which exists in the socialist party both in Europe and in America. The socialist party serves well to illustrate the point I am speaking about; first, because of the peculiar nature of its enroll- ment of its members; and second, because of the general belief in the greater devotion of the average member to his party. Michels notes that the enrolled party membership varies from one-tenth to one- thirtieth of the total socialist vote. A further illuminating fact is the short duration of party membership in an organization which makes an unusual appeal to the devotion of its members. Michaels gives the following figures of membership in the Socialist Party of Munich in 1906: 23% of the members had been in the party less than six months, 24% from six months to two years, 10% from two to three years, 15% from three to four years, making a total of 72% who had been members less than four years. Only 1214% had remained as long as eight years. It may be said that perhaps there had been a vigorous campaign for membership just previous to 1906. There is, however, nothing to indicate that this is true. Michels says that the condition indicated here is general. Of course, many people outgrow the Socialist Party for reasons other than lack of devotion. Socialism is, from the psychological standpoint, something of an adolescent phenomenon. As Walter Weyl pointed out radicals frequently become “ tired ” at middle age. But it is still indicative of the general indifference of mankind to politics that the party which makes the strongest appeal to devotion cannot hold more than 72% of its membership for four years. I am sure that membership in the Republican and Democratic parties in America,—I mean passive, indifferent, occasionally voting membership,—is much longer than this. In fact, it tends to be life-long for some people and often hereditary, like membership in a church. This fact too is significant, for these parties require little of their members. The more indifferent the members are the better the leaders are pleased, if only the rank and file will come out on election day, eat what is set before it, ask no questions for conscience sake, and vote a straight ticket. I think that all who have tried to arouse public interest in really desirable measures are impressed with this general indifference. It is this indifference which, to a large extent, keeps the party system in America going. It is this indifference also which permits the survival of antiquated methods and ideas in our political life. During the war—l think it was in the spring of 1918, when Mr. Jonathan Day was Com- missioner of Markets in New York City—there was a serious food shortage and much profiteering due largely to the inadequate terminal facilities which permitted monopoly in the handling of food stuffs. The Commis- sioner found that to solve this problem it was necessary to establish municipal markets and terminals. He met with serious opposition and a number of us tried to get popular support for his project. A meeting * Michels, “ Political Parties,” pp. 50-51. 224 was arranged and held in a large hall on the East Side. As I remember, the hall seated about twelve hundred people. There were about fifty persons present. Now this was a matter that seriously concerned the welfare of the masses. Yet municipal terminals are not as interesting as a base ball match or a prize fight. The public will attend a meeting in large numbers if they expect to see a popular hero and will applaud him to the limit of their endurance, especially if his address is filled with platitudes. But serious public measures demand some exercise of thought and thinking seems to be out of place in politics. Even the little effort required of the average voter—like registering and voting once in four years at a national election—is too great for many. If I am correctly informed, even in such elections only about one-half of the eligible voters cast their sacred ballots. Government by the masses does not exist, and never has existed. I am not saying this in any spirit of criticism. The political performance is so often displeasing that many people become bored. ‘The results of a popular election are frequently so disappointing that many become dis- couraged. Moreover, the idea that man is primarily a political animal is a fiction. People are busy. They cannot, most of them, give the time to inform themselves as to issues or men. Neither can they keep an everlasting eye on legislatures and administrators to see what they are doing. In one small town in Illinois I made a little canvass among my personal friends. All of them were educated men. I found that not 10% of them knew the names of their representatives in Congress or in the state legislature. I have tried to give attention to public affairs for a number of years. I do not believe that I have ever attended a primary or an election where I knew anything about half the men whose names were on the ballot. Why there is the “ Political” Boss. This ignorance is perhaps inexcusable now that the voter has at his disposal the excellent guidance furnished by such organiza- tions as the Citizen’s Union in New York and the League of Women Voters. Such organizations are performing an excellent service and their counsel is trustworthy to a high degree. But evidently this advice is not taken by the rank and file. I uniformly find that when, after consulting the best sources of information obtainable, I cast my vote for a candidate, it is his opponent who is elected. My father, who was a very diligent student of politics and very conscientious, never voted for a presidential candidate who was elected, except Garfield, who was afterwards shot. Thoughtful people can hardly be blamed for a loss of faith in politics. I do not think, however, that we should directly blame the masses for the present state of political affairs. About the only role the mass plays is that the average man becomes the person to whom political propaganda is addressed. Perhaps if the mass as a whole in the present stage of our development were more actively interested, the political appeal would be on a still lower level. Who can tell? The result of the passive attitude of the masses toward politics is that this industry must be conducted by men who make a trade of it. To bea politician is just as much a special calling as to be a bricklayer or a 225 barber. The active political party consist of the special workers who are on the inside or think they are. These workers are arranged in a sort of hierarchy with the ward committeeman at the bottom and the national committeeman at the top. The number of those engaged actively in this industry has been variously computed. Bryce some years ago estimated it in America at 200,000. Professor Merriam gives the figure as 600,000. These 600,000 persons run the political life of America. Orders are passed down from above and it is very seldom indeed that the voting public seriously interferes. It is this habit of looking to the men higher up in the party machine, rather than to the rank and file, which makes possible the political “boss.” The power of the boss in the party organization is a psychological curiosity. The political boss differs from the boss in other industries in that he is not usually in a position to discharge those under him. He owes his power and influence to the men he bosses. Yet there is perhaps no form of human association where obedience is more implicit and unques- tioning, unless it be the army. One would think that the local politician, being as he is in close touch with the electorate, would consult his constituents rather than take orders from one further removed whose influence consists in the voluntary obedience of the local party workers under his control. This would be the case if the people really governed. Yet a boss may dominate the political activities of a city or state for years; his rule may be autocratic and notoriously corrupt, a large section of the public may be opposed to him, he may grow to be wealthy out of political spoils, out of personal dealings with corrupt “big business ””—which the party in its platform may denounce. He may thrive at the expense of the effort of party workers who have little share in the material benefits which he enjoys. Yet when ‘his interests are at stake he has only to pass the word down the line to “the boys” and they will work for him day and night, often without real knowledge of what his “ game”’ is. This fact is often explained as a phenomenon of personal leadership. I shall have something to say on that subject later. There is more here than mere personal power of command, the little politician has his own ego to satisfy, he is flattered to be known by the boss, to be able to speak of him as “ Bill” or “ Charley.” In the party itself there are always factions, the boss is a leader of his faction. Factional struggles give rise to the crowd mind, each crowd loves to dominate because such dominance serves the egoism of its members. The issue at stake is insignificant; what counts is to keep the crowd together. Personal judgment on the part of a party worker is taboo. It would tend to disintegrate the gang— “ Hail, hail the gang’s all here.” Men love to be in the gang—something from which others are excluded. The price of being im is that one do no original thinking but obey the crowd will as expressed by the boss. The party worker who appealed to the electorate would be regarded with suspicion. It would be a vain appeal, moreover, for the mass, while they have a voice, have really little to say. The rank and file always wait for an issue to be presented to them, and if an ordinary citizen begins to show too much interest in local party affairs he is regarded as an interloper. The “ gang” becomes a kind of trade union, the mere voter is something of a “ scab.” 220 I recall the first primary meeting I ever attended. This was before the days of the direct primary. Notice was posted around the town that there would be a meeting in the Court House of the citizens belonging to a certain party. I was just 21 years old and had been brought up with a keen political conscience and sense of public duty. Consequently, I went to this meeting with a sense of solemn pride in being at last a voter. I expected to see the hall filled with the free citizens of a great democracy, taking counsel together in the interest of the public welfare, listening to words of wisdom that should fall from the lips of our most respected men. I was surprised and a little chagrined to find that this was net the case. I found a small group of forty or fifty habitual court house loafers and a half dozen lawyers who by no means represented the best type of their profession. The lawyers were talking quietly together in one corner of the room, and when I entered one or two of them looked up in a half amused way, as if to say, “ What on earth is this college boy doing here?” Presently the meeting was called to order. The chairman asked if anyone had any nominations to make for the county ticket and for the various conventions of the party. One of the lawyers then read a list of names in a rapid and mumbling voice. Printed copies of this list were hurriedly handed to those present, then immediately collected and the meeting adjourned. No great modification of this practice has been achieved even by the direct primary for the reason that nomination is a costly matter and few people have their names on a primary ticket without previous consulta- tion with the party leaders. Politics in America is “ fixed,” and fixed by those on the inside. With all the exigencies of election, there is for those who live by it in politics probably less risk than in any other business. Frequently a faction in one party will make a friendly alliance with a similar faction in the opposing party, each aiding the other in the case of need, thus bi-partisan groups grow up which in spite of all the noise of a political campaign and the exigencies of an election may keep very much the same group of bosses in power behind the scenes. Some months ago I listened to a conversation between two former local politicians who belonged to opposite parties. In the office of the first there was an autographed picture of a notorious leader of the old days. The second said “ Did you know him? So did1. We were supposed to be political enemies down in the .... Ward, but we often had friendly dealings. In fact, he often used to help our boys out and we were frequently able to be of service to him.” Crowd Psychology and Leadership. Various studies have been made of the psychology of leadership. Freud seems to think that the leader stands toward his crowd as a sort of imaginary father. I am not sure that this is the case. It is not so much fatherly qualities that gain leadership as the fact that the leader is representative or symbolic of some of the unconscious wishes of his crowd. The leader is the man who captures the imagination of his fellows in much the same way as the stage hero captures it. The followers give him preferment and in so doing unconsciously put themselves in his place. Most of the political leaders of America 223 have been great orators; others have been journalists. Many presi- dents of the United States have been distinguished for military service. If one notes the prevailing forms of thought in political oratory or journalism, it will be seen that always the orator or journalist flatters his crowd, speaks to it in time- worn platitudes, expresses its preju- dices and gives them an appearance of sanctity. Thus the crowd in honoring a leader really honors itself. The same is true of the other qualities of leadership in politics. Celebrity is always an asset to the political leader. Michels speaks of the outrageous theatricalism of Ferdinand Lasalle, the famous socialist leader in the middle of the 19th century. One way Lasalle used to fascinate democratic audiences was to picture the day when he, Lasalle, would ride into Berlin as president of the first German republic in a chariot drawn by six white horses. Theodore Roosevelt knew how to keep himself in the public eye with spectacular words and deeds. The veneration of the rank and file for celebrity is interest- ing for our psychological study of politics. Not long ago I read in a paper published in Madras, India, an article protesting against the alleged intolerance of some of Gandhi’s followers. The writer said that Gandhi’s picture was carried in religious processions along with the images of popular gods, and those who did not worship were insulted and abused in much the same way as we treat a man who does not take off his hat when a flag is carried through the streets. In the worship of both Gandhi’s picture and of the flag the crowd is worshipping itself and is compelling all others to worship it under the appearance of giving obeisance to the crowd symbol. It is for the same psychological reason that every political party promises its adherents a sweeping victory in its election. A striking illustration of this self worship through the use of symbols is given by Michels. He says that in a certain socialist parade in Sicily, there were carried at the front of the procession high above the heads of the crowd three symbols: a large picture of Karl Marx, the holy crucifix, and the red flag, thus indicating what I have said before that socialism has some affinities with the religious attitudes. One of the things they have in common is the wish to overcome the world. But we are talking about the political leader, and I am saying that the psychology of his leader- ship is that he becomes himself a symbol of the wish of his crowd to be important. Not all men can do this. One must make himself appear both representative and distinguished at the same time. He must give the impression that he, a common horny-handed son of toil, by the mere exercise of qualities which all sons of toil possess, is just as good as the great, and so make his followers feel that his advance- ment in the world is symbolic of the imagined advancement of every one of them. Why do you suppose that Tammany politicians on parade on Fifth Avenue always wear silk hats and frock coats? They know that many a man will say, “ Do you see Mike marching there? Well, he is one of the boys. Came up from the old neighborhood. Atta- boy, Mike!” Now in this attitude of the crowd there is a certain amount of generosity, a generosity which is frequently exploited because it is so 228 closely associated with self identification of the crowd with the hero. The heroes the crowd recognizes are the heroes which the crowd itself creates. |The crowd is so wonderful that he who succeeds in capturing its imagination must be a wonderful man. And in his greatness, each member of the crowd glories. Thus the crowd does not recognize greatness other than which comes from itself, and for this reason prize-fighters, movie-actors, baseball batters, and politicians are, with a few exceptions, all very much of the same type. The Place of Principle in Politics. The psychology of leadership in politics goes far to account for the fact that it is personalities, not principles, which, in the main, influence popular choice. Often, Merriam says, in fact, almost half of the time in the last 46 years, the people of this country have elected a president of one party and a congress of the opposing party, or have given the president’s party so small a leader- ship in congress that he was practically powerless. Another proof that principles do not carry much weight is the fact of the geographical distribution of political opinion in America. In the campaign of 1920, out of 531 electoral votes 3/72 were decided before the campaign began and before any one knew what the issues in it would be. They would have been the same, no matter what the issues had been, for the vote of over half the people of this country was decided sixty years ago. Merriam says that in the 32 campaigns in the history of this country, clean cut party issues dividing the voters have been presented in only 16 cases. He gives an outline of the typical party platform. It consists of: The elaboration of the record of the party. Denunciation of the opposition party. General declarations regarding democracy and the nation. General references to certain non-party issues. Expressions of sympathy. Non-committal reference to certain disputed issues. Definite issues. ee PONT Fe Our author says that in 1888 there were 19 planks in the repub- lican platform and 12 in the democratic. Of these, nine were the same in both platforms, and in only one was there a significant difference. The parties agreed on the maintenance of the union (which must have been a live issue since the Civil War had been over 22 years!) They agreed on a homestead policy, on the early admission of territories, on civil service reform, on pensions, on the trusts, on sympathy with Ireland, on the exclusion of foreign contract labor. The Republican differed from the Democratic in declaring for personal rights and the free ballot. The Democratic brought out the important and relevant matter of adherence to a written constitution with specific powers. The Republican platform declared against Mormonism (obviously a national menance!) and in favor of bi-metallism, an issue upon which it took an opposite side eight years later. It declared for reduction 229 of the cost of postage stamps, put itself on record in favor of the Monroe Doctrine and the protection of fisheries and added, to give the whole a still higher moral flavor, a non-committal prohibition plank which read as follows: “ The first concern of all good govern- ments is the sobriety of the people and the purity of their homes. The Republican Party cordially sympathizes with all wise and well- directed efforts for the promotion of temperance and morality.” The two parties differed in only one important matter: the tariff. Of course, the tariff was the real issue. It meant business profits for somebody. Often the issue is not so clear as this. In the campaign of 1920 the issue seems to have been hatred of the person of Woodrow Wilson who was not, at that time, a candidate. You will remember seeing great signs posted on all the bill boards which read, ‘“ No more wibble and wobble.” I am told that this was a campaign slogan to get which the party employed a great advertising company, and that it influenced thousands of votes. Its irrelevance is obvious. The slogan evidently referred to the record of Mr. Wilson, yet at the same time political speakers were saying that Mr. Wilson was a domin- eering, tyrannical, uncompromising idealist, who, once he made up his mind, could not be moved. And the pathos of such a slogan is that if “ wibble and wobble” means anything it was the Harding Adminis- tration which later “wibbled and wobbled.” What else could a wibbling and wobbling electorate expect? The contemplation of party history makes it rather easy to predict some of the planks of the party platforms in the campaign of 1924.* Both parties will express sympathy for labor, while warning the public against the dangers of radicalism. Both will congratulate the Irish Free State on its successful establishment. Both will be non- committal about the Volstead act, pointing out the moral evils that follow disrespect for law. Both will deal with the oil scandal by warning the public of the dangers of corruption in high office. As to foreign policy, the Republicans will say that the peace of the world demands that America play her part in the fellowship of the nations; that some association of the peoples of the world for the preservation of peace would seem to be advisable, but that America must be saved from entangling alliances, the Monroe Doctrine protected and our domestic interests safeguarded. The Democrats will say that, whereas our domestic interests must be safeguarded, the Monroe Doctrine protected, and America kept from entangling alliances, nevertheless the Democratic party stands for the great principle that the peace of the world can only be maintained by some kind of a league or asso- ciation among the nations of the world. So far we have spoken only of general principles of political opinion and leadership. The history of political practice everywhere is unflattering to democracy. The great show of platitudinous prin- ciples professed by party organizations merely covers a thinly dis- guised effort to gain special advantages for some individuals. As Merriam says, “ Each campaign consists of two parts: One is directed upon an appeal to the common interest on the theory that there are no classes, no races, no religions, no sections, no special interests, but * This lecture was given at Cooper Union, New York, April 4, 1924. 230 that the common interest of all will be the criterion by which each voter will decide his party allegiance. The other section of the cam- paign is based upon the opposite theory: that the whole electorate is made up of a long series of special interests which must be shown their special advantage in the support of the particular party and its candidates to obtain their support.” In practice, therefore, politics both here and abroad is the story of a long series of acts of corruption and misgovernment, special favoritism, incompetence, shameful lobbying, hastily drawn and ill considered legislation, outrageous extravagance, the levying of tribute from the underworld for its protection, the insincere enforce- ment of laws, many of which should never have been passed and cannot honestly be enforced; in a word, the general misuse of the institution and functions of government by men who were incapable of statesmanship, and saw in political affairs nothing but the oppor- tunity for advancement of someone’s special interest. All this has been only too characteristic of political life everywhere, from the commonplace corruption in the government of most cities up to a recent cabinet of the “ best minds.” It is a disheartening story. We may take some consolation in the fact that the life of the people goes on in spite of politics. A man recently returned from a business trip to Honduras tells me that on one occasion while talking to a merchant, he heard a great clatter in the street, together with much shooting. The American was frightened and asked the merchant what on earth was happening. Was it a revolution? The merchant said, “ Oh, yes, that is just the politicians passing by. We will close the blinds and do business as usual.” We cannot, however, so blandly ignore the behavior of our politicians. For we have see in recent years how politicians may well nigh wreck our civilization. Politics and Democracy. What makes politics what it is? There are two ready-made answers, given from opposite standpoints and both inadequate. The first is the answer of the aristocrat. It says, that the trouble with politics is democ- racy; that democracy can never be anything but corrupt because it is government by the lower classes. But aristocracies too may be notoriously corrupt. Witness the behavior of the Russian aristocracy under the old regime. England, whose government is a combination of democracy and aristocracy, is doubtless the cleanest and most competent government in the world. It appears to fall below its high standard only during those periods when the business classes gain the upper hand. The other answer is that of the socialists, who maintain that political corruption is a direct result of the capitalist system. There is much truth in this, but, like most socialist statements, it oversimplifies the case. There are many other factors, psychological in their nature, which, if I had time, I could show enter into the situation. Corruption is not the whole story in politics and may itself be correlated with the ignorance and cupidity of the average man. Capitalism may itself be an effect of the same psychological elements which have produced our present political forms of behavior. It is said that if we could remove the temptations 231 set before our politicians by profit-seeking business men, all would be well. But those who say this forget that temptation would still exist. Wherever there is power over men, those who have such power will be tempted to make it a vested interest of their own. ‘The situation in Russia today is proof of this fact. There are three elements in politics which I wish to discuss very briefly. The first is the politician. There are, of course, many notable exceptions to what I am going to say. But, in a sense, politics has become a profession. This profession, however, differs from other pro- fessions in that it has few or no recognized professional standards. The physician, the professor (and to some extent even the lawyer) is answer- able to his colleagues for his conduct. Each of these professions, therefore, has a certain professional ethic. I do not say that this ethic is universally lived up to. But if anyone flagrantly betrays a professional trust he is answerable to his colleagues, answerable, that is, to men who are specially trained, have a sense of responsibility for the profession, and know enough to pass rather intelligent judgment upon one another. The rogue may be expelled from the practice of his profession and the incompetent excluded. It is not so with the politician or the labor leader. The polli- tician makes his appeal to the undifferentiated mass. Moreover, there are, for entrance into the profession of politics, no intellectual standards or requirements as in other professions. Consequently, the men who enter this profession are, on the whole, men of a lower type of mentality. Psychologically speaking, they belong to a lower type of men. Now, when these two factors enter into the selection of the personel of a profession, they cannot but degrade it. The fact is that a high minded, well-educated sincere man is at a decided disadvantage in politics as in all things where he must make his appeal to the mass as a whole. Victory is on the side of sensation, superficiality, and humbug. Second, let us consider briefly politics as an expression of the psychology of the people. Itis often said that people have the government they deserve. I am not sure that this is the case. It is not true that the masses are necessarily corrupt, though there is a certain amount of “cussedness’’ in the nature of us all. The difficulty lies in the type of appeal to which the masses uniformly respond. This is due not only to popular ignorance, but also to the desire of crowds to be flattered. The very sense of power which men have when they get together in a party gives strength to their feeling of self-importance. They wish to hear those things which encourage them in their protest against the feeling of inferiority. Again, popular thinking is highly irrelevant, substituting for the results of behavior various made-in-advance principles which really have nothing to do with the case in hand. Consequently, political thought and propaganda seldom rise above the level of commercial advertising. There is a touch of insincerity in almost everything with which men strive to reach the masses. Catch phrases, over-statement of fact, broad generalizations, the trite, the obsolete, the platitudinous, commonly deter- mine our political choices, and I do not see how this situation may be remedied except by a new and more self-analytical type of education. In an earlier lecture we learned that there are two kinds of thinking— problem-solving thinking and rationalization. The latter does not have 232 the function of adapting the organism to environmental situations; it is the mere fabrication of ideas which will at once disguise and make plausible some unconscious wish. Public opinion concerning political matters is seldom problem-solving thinking. It is rationalization—men do not think out political problems, they merely repeat their dogmas, resort to special pleading, cleverly impute to their opponents the unconscious motives they themselves entertain. The function of party opinion is to hold the members in the crowd, make converts of the credulous, represent the party’s will to rule as the triumph of a great cause. Its function is to protest the “purity” of the party’s aims, justify and intensify an artificial fervor of partisan strife and enable the average man to keep up his fiction of superiority. “The People” thinking in these ways imagines its voice to be the voice of God, believes it is giving expression to sacred truths, when it is merely priding itself on the sheer power of its numbers and pooling the manifestation of its egotism. As I have said, when numbers alone count, it is the mediocre man who must be cajoled, his mental qualities set the standard and must be glorified with big words. True distinction of worth is rated low, even resented. The real interest of the public is not good government, but that which causes the average man to feel himself important. Perhaps it was an error to extend the franchise to all men regardless of their mental capacity; though, I do not see just how, at pres- ent, we could find a criterion of mental capacity which could be justly applied in determining who should vote. Finally, there is politics as a method of government. Certainly the party system, as we have worked it out in America, makes the party itself an end, and is to be held accountable for much of the misgovernment in this country. Government as government has very little to do with the ends of practical politics as we have known those ends. Strangely enough, though the average American is indifferent to politics, yet he is politically minded to an unfortunate degree. We look to the government for all sorts of things which government can never, by its very nature, satisfac- torily perform. In fact, government is perhaps the least lovely thing that democracy has achieved, though democratic government has doubtless been conducive to the achievement of whatever human advancement in other directions society has in recent years attained. Even this, however, is a debatable point. I am anything but an anarchist, but I hold with Jefferson that “that government is best which governs least.’”’ Government must be rigidly restricted or majorities will utterly crush the life out of the minorities which oppose them. And certainly the will of the majority is a poor method of determining the right policy of government. A project should gain no sanctity because a thousand stupid and uneducated men may favor it in opposition to the judgment of 100 wise men. And under our present political methods, not only majorities, but also organized minorities may practice coercion in support of ill-advised measures. The world today is so highly organized, political policy may have such far-reaching and unforseen effects, a bit of stupidity may be so universally disastrous, that it stands to reason that the control of affairs can no longer, with safety, be left to the mercy of political practices, as we have known them. If politics can not in some way be made to encourage the leadership and control of the higher types 233 of men and women in communities, democracy probably will not survive the century. Thinking people must make an effort to see that the profession of politics acquires a professional ethic, in the light of which certain practices become reprehensible. The public must be taught to stop worshipping itself. If it must have its self-flattery, it should get it otherwise than at the expense of the future of the state. It must not forget the psychological fact that social behavior 1s conditioned by the kind of man in whose interest it is performed. In politics as else- where, the important question is ‘“ Who goes there?” " : (isi AD) ay td hae ure @ “hey Pa! 4 . Ca Te fee a Vy cord rage on? ¥, ‘ 4 Ont , By tae ur LR ead ay LECTURE XVII Are there Psychological differences of Race? 5 . rh i‘ AG { . hy odes ¥) \ : i j . a U , } * ] née ) 7 J : » 5 ! a | { U 5 \ ny " : 6 Al 4 wh. ’ ‘ \ + ‘ ie } ’ ; ; P ‘ es 7." 7" ) of “a \ — a ; ‘ % 4 AY LS a 4 , ” « ' ‘ : ' j ' 7 + , 4 i nef ‘ "i ‘ha. 4 es te ; fl ‘ fe bd | 1, : if J r , oe ‘ e 4 P >, . <4 id 7 4i ' ey eae Myh j i ‘ = ’ ‘ ty ae Fi j ' i j bo SS Ag, 7 ’ 4 i 7A ‘ ‘ vi, ' \ A Lm 2 Py f ‘ } § real it ‘ ' r , ws) VG US , beat et » en dlon ok a 4 b ? sie’ * a ; Pig 7 ‘ e 7 i 4 A “* ; 1 ; Ce y 7 r f i i al | 7 : i i i ‘ { i i - i f ‘ “4 ‘ i ; i { i { ‘ Vy 1 ’ Nie ok ’ Vs 4 a ‘ i CN t, ‘ ‘ ‘ A! ai a ‘ 2 ms ing : iy : bys ‘ t 8 i) ry a \. | ¥ y ' 4 i ri ; . - j ‘ 7 hy \ \ 1 ae POU rvs , { { Wy ae } ’ , ' y ; 4 & ' i 4 4 7 : r “4 j } a Pi £ J vs ‘ i ; BAN Sy) iA ' { 3 ie a ae i? fi if : J ri yl Py ee 4 ; fF i. :¢ 3 s ‘ i jh 4 ‘ ; +} ve wD } ry "Th Wat. J ae ‘ i" ‘ ‘ : J 4 by) acd A ¢ 77 ? P ie ‘ iW ake ‘ a i}, i une s ! ¢ ‘ Uy fila . 4 ‘ : 4 ay id 177 ’ ¥ Ve 4 , uae 4 , i ¢ phere, a\ Fa 4 y } id g y / i aloes 2. Ree ‘ > Ba * ; yiaphs Wat »f ‘ea nA i eaten x i \ i Pre Fe “ VV? “al Paes My}, Wi det , Ooi 4 Ag Ldn ty ‘eo Me) a i LECTURE XIX Behaviorism—T he Latest and Most Debated Development. BEHAVIORISM—THE LATEST AND MOST DEBATED DEVELOPMENT 66 EHAVIORISM ” is a new word. It stands for a point of view which was bound, sooner or later, to influence psychology. The behaviorist school differs from other schools of psychology in this: that it attempts to study what we call mental life by the same purely objective methods that are used in such natural sciences as chemistry and biology. To the behaviorists, psychologists of other schools are not really scientific because they regard mental facts as phenomena which belong to an order of being wholly different from that which we find in the objective world. Now it is a presupposition of science that “nature makes no jumps.” The scientist is interested in pointing out the causal connections among the facts of nature. He believes that there is a certain uniformity in the universe, so that the same scientific logic which applies to one group of facts will apply to others; in other words, science maintains that the uni- verse in all its phases is reducible to certain scientific formulas and laws. We have seen in the previous lectures that there is a connection be- tween what we call mental life and what we call physical life. We have seen that higher types of mental life accompany more advanced stages of organic evolution. Are the so-called facts of mind so different from the rest of nature that they cannot be studied or explained in the same way as other facts? Much traditional psychology says that they are. The as- sumption that they cannot be so explained irritates many men trained in natural science. These scholars would like to see the same degree of accuracy, the same objectivity here as elsewhere. They look forward to the achievement of a coordinated series of sciences. They would explain the facts of biology and psychology in the terms of the sciences of chem- istry and physics. There are, of course, many difficulties in the assumption that mind and body belong to two separate ‘“‘ realms of being” and are essentially different. Consequently, behaviorists have the feeling that these diffi- culties may be avoided, and the problems of mental life very much simpli- fied, if they can proceed on the assumption that mind is simply behavior and that its phenomena may be explained as the response of the organism to some physiological stimulus. Naturally, such an assumption has created controversy. There has probably been much more controversy than was necessary. It would have been easier to judge behaviorism on its merits, if psychologists did not still retain the habit of the older philosophers of dividing themselves into “schools,” and if people could only keep out of the discussion of it things which have nothing to do with the case—metaphysical, religious or sociological interests. Behaviorism, therefore, has come to be some- thing which people feel they must be “for” or “against.” Many per- sons regard it as a sort of creed: one may become converted to it or withhold belief. To some it seems like a sort of gospel. Many: social radicals have accepted it uncritically, often without really knowing what it means, merely because behaviorism seems to them to stand for material- ism, and materialism means “the materialist interpretation of history ” [267] 268 and that means Marxian socialism. I am quite sure that the leading be- haviorists are far from this point of view. To yet other people behavior- ism appears to be a malicious attempt to destroy the spiritual meaning of life. , Now all this is certainly unscientific. We have reached a time in our intellectual development when we ought to be able to judge a move- ment like behaviorism on its merits, and to view it as a method of study to be verified by appeal to fact, and not take it up as if it were some special cult. In just the degree that people are cultists they have not attained the scientific spirit. As psychology has become more popularized this tendency to make a cult of its various schools has been greatly in- creased. There are people who are ever prone to make a fad of the latest idea, and there are many others who resist violently any attempt to compel them to take an objective view of the facts of nature. We must remember that men once resorted to introspection and revelation in order to explain the shape and size of the earth, the movement of the stars, the origin of species, and the laws of chemical change. In and of itself there is nothing very startling in the attempt of the behaviorist to study human psychology in a strictly objective manner. Behaviorism is primarily a method of study and it is to be valued only after we have properly appreciated its results. I do not, however, mean to minimize its importance. As we shall see, it gives us a fresh and stimulating point of view and if it is able to add anything in the way otf accuracy to our knowledge of psychology, we ought to be glad. Certainly it has greatly increased the discussion of psychological problems among scholars and this in itself is a good thing. Behaviorism may be regarded along with psycho-analysis as one of the two important developments in psychology since the days of James. G. Stanley Hall seems to regard it as a protest against the older introspectionists’ method, a protest which is, to some extent, justified. He says: “Introspection, that catches innumerable flitting phenomena, most of which are superficial or marginal and, without immediate introversion, would generally never be known at all because they are so nearly uncon- scious, has made very important generalizations from such data. It, however, makes little effort to explain their origin. Its material is gathered from a small and narrowly restricted class of individuals— especially trained graduate students and their teachers. Its quest is for psychic elements when in fact there are no such things but only psychic germs. It claims to be the only Simon-pure psychology but it is so only in the sense that it treats conscious phenomena as if they were finalities instead of being, all of them, only symbols, and makes no attempt to ex- plain the highly complex categories, determining tendencies, Finstel- lungen, etc., with which it works. It has, however, accumulated valuable data for a more ultimate psychoanalysis which, when it comes, may make a use of its conclusions as different from the purposes they were intended to serve as the critical, scientific, or clinical psychologist does of the psychic researchers’ studies of mediums. It has one answer to all critics, namely, that they do not understand. Much of it might be called the psychology of mental images and it has shed much light. But it gives too scant recognition te other lines of endeavor and has nearly all the 269 earmarks of a sect apart. It is also responsible for the extreme reaction of behaviorism, which is a healthy movement of compensation.” Personally I do not see why there should be an intense quarrel as to what is the one right method. There are some psychological problems which can best be solved by the behaviorist. There are others for the solution of which we still have no other methods than the introspectionist, and undoubtedly there are many problems to which psychopathology gives us the best answer. If there are inconsistencies in psychology to-day, perhaps wiser and less dogmatic men than ourselves in the future may find ways to harmonize them. Again, perhaps there will always be in- consistencies. It is something of an article of faith, even among scientists, to hold that the world in which we live can be reduced to a logically con- sistent set of principles. This is a good faith, but scientists should be on their guard against the assertion that they have achieved their goal as yet. And this applies to behaviorism. Perhaps some day the behaviorist method may give us an answer to all the problems of psychology. At the present time it has certainly not done so, for it leaves out many things which are of great psychological interest. I am not here to pass judgment on behaviorism or on the splendid work which has been done by its leading exponent, Dr. John B. Watson. It is rather our purpose to get clearly in mind just what the behaviorist standpoint is. As I said, behaviorism is an attempt to study psychology with the same exactness of control and carefulness of obser- vation, and the same objectivity (and with similar laboratory methods) that have given us our present knowledge of physics and physiology. To this end it abandons entirely the introspective method. It is very critical of introspectionism. In the first lecture we saw that this method has serious limitations. Students in psychological laboratories may work for years striving to discover minute differences of sensation, analysing their own thoughts and emotions and yet never attain any such body of knowl- edge as would be. agreed upon by other students studying the same data in their own experience. The criticism has been made with some justice that purely subjective material can never be made into a scientific body of knowledge. Always our subjective states, while they may be immediately known to us, are susceptible to the interpretations which we incline to give to them. There are people who have subjective certainty of the immortality of the soul, or other religious doctrines. Recently a clergyman won a debate in Carnegie Hall, New York, with such subjective arguments. The subject of discussion was a purely historical problem having to do with the his- torical origins of Christianity—in other words, with historical events which happened nearly 2,000 years ago. The argument brought forth in support of the historicity of the Christian tradition was that the clergy- man “knew in his own heart” that this tradition is true. Now it is obvious that if we could know historical or metaphysical matters in this intuitive manner, scholarship and historical research would be wholly unnecessary. The difficulty is that there are people who “ know ” all sorts of things in this way. I once met a man who on the same subjective ground was absolutely sure that he was Napoleon. Even as careful an introspectionist as William James was led into error by this method, at least on one oc- 270 casion. James tried to find out by introspection what is the “ inmost self ” of each of us. He concluded that it was a bodily feeling, and that it was located somewhere in the muscles of the head and neck. It is obvious that another introspectionist might locate it somewhere else in the body, assum- ing that it could be located at all. Certainly physiology should have some- thing to say about a matter of this sort and physiology is an objective science. Now behaviorism would avoid such errors as those of introspection- ism by simply abandoning introspectionism along with all the phenomena that are commonly studied by this method. It simply has no use for the alleged subjective facts of mental life. It is not concerned at all with anything that goes on inside of us, except, of course, those physiological processes which can be studied in laboratories. Mental life thus becomes a phenomenon of the objective world, and its facts and laws are studied, not by a student observing his own feelings, but by an outside observer using the methods of careful measurement, blood analysis, and controlled experimentation. In other words, as I indicated in the first lecture, be- haviorism adapts to the study of human reactions the identical methods used in the study of animal psychology. As the animal cannot talk, the psychologist is not concerned with that it thinks or feels; he is concerned with what it does, when stimulated in various ways. Animal psychology and physiology have, by thus working with ani- mals, in recent years made great advance over the mixture of common sense and guess work which characterized them a generation ago. So in the study of human psychology, the behaviorist warns the student that he must confine himself strictly to those facts which can be stated in terms of “ stimulus and response.” The assumption is that the organism is by nature endowed with characteristic modes of response, the result of its inherited physical organization. These responses are purely mechanical movements of the organs of the body. They take place regularly and in characteristic manner when the appropriate stimulus is given. The stimulus too is a fact of the material world. So the behaviorist believes that psy- chology is not a science of an invisible and mysterious entity known as “ Mind,” but is as purely a study of movements of particles of matter and the causal relations of such movements, as is the science of electrical engineering. The aim of psychology, then, becomes essentially practical. It is to “ predict and control” human behavior. Human behavior can be con- trolled in the following manner. The original reflexes may be “ con- ditioned ;” that is, a stimulus which ordinarily sends impulses to a certain organ, or reaction pattern, may be made to result in another and quite different mode of response. For instance, a person may be put in a labora- tory and an electrical apparatus so arranged that whenever he sees certain differences in color he may be given a shock which will cause an automatic jerk of the muscles of his arm. After this process has been continued for some time, the shock may be discontinued and the arm will give the spasmodic movement when the differences in color are observed. This process is purely automatic and may be used in determing a subject’s sensitiveness to differences in color or any other difference. The “ con- ditioned reflex ” is particularly important, because it is said that all learn- ing and habit formation consist in the conditioning of original modes of response in one way or another, 2/1 Behaviorism vs. Introspectionism. In order to gain a more detailed knowledge of this subject, I wish to discuss the writings of Dr. John B. Watson, the leading exponent of Be- haviorism. I do not think that I have any prejudice - in the matter. I have great respect for Dr. Watson, but it may be that my training has been such that I do not quite understand him. ‘As I want to be fair, I have invited Dr. Watson to give a course of lectures under the auspices of The People’s Institute. These lectures are published by The People’s Institute Publishing Company, under the general title ‘“ Behaviorism.” Let us now note the difference in point of view between Dr. Watson’s work and the “ Psychology ” of Professor Burtis Burr Breese, of the Uni- versity of Cincinnati. Breese defines psychology as “ that study whose task it is to point out and organize the observable facts of conscious life, and to formulate theories and hypotheses necessary to explain these facts.” He says that modern psychology differs from the older in that it concerns itself more with the facts and less with the nature of consciousness. But psychology is still the science of consciousness or of mind. It is radically different from the other sciences. The fundamental method of psychology is the observation of “the mental states and processes taking place in our own minds, and second, the observation of the behavior of others by means of which we may infer the presence and nature of their mental states.’’ . . . ~~ The first form of observation gives us direct knowledge of our own conscious life and has been termed introspection ; SUT Os spection in psychology is observation of mental facts, while observation in other sciences is observation of material facts.’ . . . “In the mate- riel sciences the uniformities are found in terms of quantity, the millimeter, the gram, etc. In psychology, the uniformities are in terms of quality, the quality of experience.” Breese deals with such subjects as Attention, Sensation, Perception, Memory, Imagination, Judgment, Feeling, Con- sciousness, the Self, etc. Now note the difference when we turn to Dr. Watson’s book. There is not a word in it about consciousness, or feeling, or selfhood, or imagina- tion, or attention, or any of those things with which psychology has been busied during most of its history. We are told that psychology is the science of behavior. “It attempts to formulate through systematic ob- servation and experimentation the laws and principles which underlie man’s reactions.”’ Psychology is primarily busy with the matter of adjust- ment to environment. The form of this adjustment is determined by something. In every act of adjustment there is a stimulus and a response. “ The goal of psychological study is the ascertaining of such data and laws that, given the stimulus, psychology can determine what the response will be. Or, on the other hand, given response, it can specify the nature of the effective stimulus.” The responses may be divided into two kinds: hereditary modes of response and acquired modes of response. Each of these may be divided into implicit or explicit bodily movements. The implicit movements are the subtle ones which take place within the body itself, in the muscles and glands, etc. The explicit movements are those which we ordinarily notice in overt bodily activity. But the implicit and explicit responses are alike purely organic and physiological. The implicit hereditary responses 272 include the whole system of activities or secretions of the ductless glands, located in various parts of the body; also changes in the circulation of the blood and muscular responses in the “ unstriped”’ muscle tissue. Explicit hereditary responses include the observable instinctive and emotional re- actions, such as we see in sneezing, blinking, dodging, fear, rage and love. Acquired modes of response are, of course habits. They consist of con- ditioned reflexes. The explicit habit responses are actions like unlocking the door, playing tennis, talking; in fact, most things we learn to do Implicit bodily habits are, first of all, sub-vocal talking or “ thinking ;” secondly, the system of conditioned reflexes in the various glands and un- striped muscular mechanisms. Before saying a word about each of these divisions of this subject, it is well to notice that Watson, like other contemporary psychologists, gives an account of the physical basis of mental life, although he would never use these terms. He speaks of “receptors and their stimuli.” He gives an excellent physiological account of the structure of the nervous system, the nature of the neurons, and the anatomy and physiology of what other psychologists would call the sense organs. To Watson, however, the eye and the ear are not “sense organs.” They are mechanical contrivances the function of which is to pick up a stimulus from the environment and start it on its way as a nerve impulse to an appropriate “organ of re- sponse.” These organs of response are also studied in some detail, espe- cially the physiology of muscle fibres and the endocrine glands. Emphasis is laid upon the function of such glands in those responses of the body which other psychologists call “ emotion.” With the hereditary modes of response, behaviorism has probably done its best work, though much remains yet to be done. Watson’s method of studying instinct is illuminating. Instinct is defined as the hereditary mode of response of the pattern reaction type. In order to understand instinct in human beings, therefore, it is necessary to study an individual from the hour of his birth to maturity, to know just when and under what condi- tions these hereditary reaction patterns appear. However, as most of the patterns become modified by habit very early in life, the most im- portant age for the study of instincts is infancy. Watson’s study of babies is famous in psychology. It is too ex- tended for us to enter into discussion of it. A few facts, however, may be singled out. For instance, there is the grasping reflex which infants lose after the first few days of life. It was found that most babies can support their full weight for a longer or shorter period of time, hanging by either hand. This instinct we have perhaps inherited from our arboreal ancestors. The crawling instinct appears somewhere about the 90th to 115th day. Various positive and negative reaction tendencies of children have been studied. These have much to do with emotion. The fear re- sponse seems to be stimulated by fewer objects than most people imagine. Many of our alleged instinctive fears are not instinctive at all, but are conditioned. Large numbers of children were experimented with; they were shown various animals—bats and mice and snakes—and even took them in their hands, without displaying any original tendencies to shrink from these creatures. The fear response in small children is commonly excited by loud noises, or by the sudden removal of support from under- neath so that the child falls a short distance. Rage is commonly stimu- 273 lated by restricting the movements of the child’s arms and legs. The original response of the emotion of Jove may be produced by stroking the child’s body. Hence it is held that the erotic instinct instead of appearing on maturity, as many think it does, is an original mode of response. The method Watson has used in studying these modes of response has been of great value in clearing up much of the confusion about in- stinct and emotion. There has been much guess work and unsatisfactory writing on this subject and very little systematic observation. The list of instincts in man is much shorter, according to Dr. Watson, than according to psychologists like McDougall and James. The method of studying emotion by observing the non-adaptive and random movements of various bodily organs, also of carefully noting the effects of the secretion of the thyroid and suprarenal glands—notably, the amount of sugar discharged into the blood—has, in some instances, enabled the psychologists to find a definite physiological basis for measuring the emotions. Perhaps the most revolutionizing theory Watson holds is the theory that thinking is sub-vocal talking. As we learn to give names to the ob- jects about us, we may juggle these words in our implicit responses in such ways that new patterns are formed. In other words, the implicit modes of response that go on in the “ laryngeal processes ” have the func- tion of directing the movements of the entire organism. These implicit language habits come to issue finally in overt action. There is nothing at all mysterious about thinking, therefore. It is not an “ intra-cerebral ” function. “ Could we bring thinking out for observation as readily as we can tennis playing or rowing, the need for ‘explaining’ it would dis- appear.” It would be seen that thinking consists merely of conditioned bodily reflexes like any other form of muscular activity. Of course, this view is an hypothesis. I do not believe that Watson or any other behaviorist would maintain that it is verified. I do not see just how it could be verified by experiment, and there are many facts which seem to contravert it. Much thinking, of course, takes place in words, but to deny that there are any tmages seems to me to be going pretty far. I wonder if the mechanical inventor may not on occasion see in imagination the contrivance which he proposes to create. And there is such thinking as goes on in higher mathematics, where the implications are not even stateable in verbal terminology. I wonder just how, on this basis, the behaviorist would deal with certain logical relationships and judgments. For instance, what constitutes the proof of a proposition? All these and other difficulties have been raised against this behaviorist account of thinking. In my lecture on “How We Think,” the point is made that thinking contains, at least sometimes, a “ consideration of ends” which the behaviorist theory seems to ignore. However, behaviorism has here set before students of psychology an interesting problem and a new challenge, and we may expect a good deal of research on this subject in the next few years. The theory is at any rate ingenious, even though it is doubtless inspired, in part, by the behaviorist’s attempt to be consistent and hence to explain behavior while leaving out consciousness. As to whether the behaviorist really means that there is no such thing as consciousness, I doubt if the representatives of this school are 274 themselves clear. In an early paper, Dr. Watson has said: “ Will there be left over in psychology a world of pure psychics, to use Yerke’s term? I confess I do not know. The plans which I most favor for psychology lead practically to the ignoring of consciousness in the sense that that term is used by psychologists to-day. I have virtually denied that this realm of psychics is open to experimental investigation. I do not wish to go further into the problem at present because it leads inevitably over into metaphysics. If you will grant the behaviorist the right to use con- sciousness in the same way that other natural scientists employ it—that is, without making consciousness a special object of observation—you have granted all that my thesis requires.’ What Watson intends to imply in this passage is that the traditional psychology is somewhat to blame for the confusion regarding the sub- ject, which to my mind exists even in the behaviorist school. Psycholo- gists have sometimes spoken of consciousness as if it were a thing apart, the word to be spelled with a Capital C. Consciousness, from this view. is a non-material, invisible, spiritual entity, belonging to the world of “spirit” rather than that of matter. Of course, from this point of view the discussion of consciousness properly belongs to metaphysics rather than to science, and the behaviorist is quite justified in keeping his dis- cussion within the realm of psychology. He may, therefore, with perfect propriety say that there may be such a mysterious entity, just as James argues that there may be such a thing as the soul. But granting its exist- ence he may correctly say that science as science is not interested in it. On the other hand, psychologists sometimes speak of consciousness as an element in, or a quality of, certain facts of behavior; that is, certain nerve processes may become conscious. ‘This is not to say that psy- chology is merely the science of consciousness. But it is to say that com- mon sense and universal experience evidently support the view that some of our actions have this quality. As a quality in the response of the or- ganism to its stimulus, it would seem that this quality should be studied along with the other qualities in that response, and that to ignore it is seriously to limit the scope of psychology. But behaviorists do not merely say that though consciousness in this latter sense exists, they are not interested in it. Many of their state- ments go farther and indicate frequently a flat denial of the existence of consciousness at all. In other words, behaviorism has a tendency to form an alliance with mechanistic metaphysics. That is, it assumes what in another lecture I call the “automaton theory.” This theory means that consciousness produces no effects in the material world, since all the movements of the particles of matter form a coherent and self-perpet- uating series. This theory was amply discussed by William James. It is not new. It is really a metaphysical doctrine. It is determinism, the assumption that the universe is ultimately so constituted that its essence is the causal connection among all the varied phenomena in it. Many researches in the sciences, particularly in the physical sciences, seem to substantiate such a view. And there are many biologists, psychologists, and sociologists who envy the exactness and simplicity of chemistry and physics, and feel that they cannot give the true explanation of any kind of organic behavior unless they can state it in terms that properly belong to these sciences. 2/5 Reduced to its logical conclusion, this theory means that physical and chemical reactions are the only reactions there are in nature, and that the socalled psychological reactions to stimuli, in spite of the appearances to the contrary, are really determined in some such manner as purely in- organic changes are determined. What those who hold this theory seem to forget is that even in the study of the inorganic world, scientific ideas are really symbols, figures of speech, human devices, selected and often artificial likenesses among objects, all from the human point of view. In other words, scientific ideas are instruments devised by man, the value of which is the practical hold they give us upon the environment in which we live. Even the most theoretical propositions of science have in the end this utilitarian function. They are teleological. And without the fact that we are, as human beings, “interested spectators’ of nature, see- ing it from our own point of view, scientific principles become impossible. Hence, it is an assumption of faith on the part of scientists to say that all the phenomena of the universe may be expressed in terms of scientific logic, for science has by no means as yet achieved its goal. The very idea that our human and partial reasoning may give us a picture of the universe as a whole and its general laws, is a rationalistic assumption; in fact, a metaphysical dogma. There are many “ pluralists”? who hold that science is merely one possible view of reality; a view which is justi- fiable because of its results in experience. Hence, human experience be- comes the ultimate judge, even of scientific truth. This view is likewise a metaphysical assumption and I give it to show that its alternative too is metaphysical, and not scientific. Behaviorism, then, may be either one of two things. First, a method of study. Second, a theory as to the ultimate constitution of mind. These two are often confused in the writings of behavior psychologists. The latter, the mechanistic metaphysical theory, we shall have to dismiss be- because its assumptions lie beyond the radius of psychology. The former, that is, behaviorism as a method is something to which there can be no scientific objection. As a method behaviorism has many advantages over the others. It has the advantages of simplicity, accuracy, and objectivity. Also, it has the advantage of integrating the psychological method with that employed in the other sciences, and hence of being more consistent with the whole body of Scientific knowledge. But to say that the behaviorist method is the only method is to beg the question, as we shall see presently. As I have suggested, behaviorism has one disadvantage when it is proposed as the only method. ‘There are many problems of psychological interest which it dismisses altogether too lightly, many problems of importance to the social psychologist, for instance, which so far as I can see, it does not help us to solve. Watson says that the aim of psychology is to predict and to control. But is that all? Does this simply mean that psychology is to give us a device for manipulating people? Has it nothing to say about the value of the ends toward which such methods of control are made? In other words, is psychology to become merely a new device for “putting things over” people? Or is it to have anything to say about the general satisfactoriness of the things to be “put over?” If so, then. how can we ignore all consideration of human feelings? What we need 276 is a psychological criterion of popular ethical ideas, of the various ten- dencies in democracy, of propaganda, of public opinion, and crowd be- havior. It is necessary for the student of social psychology to learn the true motives of many popular movements, and often these motives are very different from the professed ones. It is only by analysing the fic- tions and wish-fancies that motivate people in this respect that we can ever find such a criterion. It is altogether too general to say that certain forms of social be- havior are acquired forms or habits, and others are inherited modes of response. We wish to know just how these acquired habits are related to the social behavior patterns of people; how they grow out of an in- dividual’s past, and what is their unconscious meaning. There has been too much honest work done in psychopathology during the last genera- tion to have the whole achievement of Freud and his followers dismissed with a wave of the hand. Much of the terminology of psychopathology could well be revised, and many of its discoveries could doubtless be re- stated in behaviorist terms. But we are less concerned about the phrases in which psychological facts may be stated than we are about the discovery of the facts themselves. Are not Watson’s very words “ predict”? and “control” self-con- tradictory? The word “ predict” is the outgrowth of the mechanistic or deterministic point of view and its implication is that given certain situa- tions only such and such responses may be expected. Hence, there are no alternatives, if we only knew the whole story of the causes of an in- dividual’s behavior. But now in this case the word “control” becomes somewhat irrelevant. Why should we seek to control someone’s behavior, except that we prefer to have him do one thing rather than another? And even though it could be shown, which as yet it has not been, that given a certain situation there is only one response possible,—so that the individual whom we are manipulating has no choice in the matter: yet does not our attempt to control him mean that the controller has some choice? Hence, choice and selection are really presupposed. Again, behaviorism, valuable as it is so far as it goes, gives too simple an account of the more complicated forms of behavior. Dr. Wat- son says that in order to be able to predict accurately the behavior of an individual it is necessary that we know his whole past, since he has been in the process of having his reflexes conditioned and reconditioned from the beginning. Well and good. But how specifically are we to know the details of that past by the strict use of the behavior method? Many ex- periences in the individual’s past have been forgotten and may only be restored to memory by the method of the psychoanalytical procedure. Moreover, the behaviorist account of personality, to my mind, is a surface view as compared with that of the best work which has been done by psycho-pathologists, or even by some of the introspectionists,—if James is to be included among the latter. It will be borne in mind that by the methods of psychopathology, some of the deepest underlying de- terminants of behavior may be brought to light. Infantile experiences and tendencies, the influence of the parents, and the child’s secret affec- tions, fixations and resentments, his growing thought about himself, the images in which he has in years past pictured his own future, the struggles that accompanied his psycho-sexual development, with the many shynesses, 277 attractions, and repulsions, together with thousands of curious defence mechanisms and imaginary escapes from reality have contributed to make the individual what he is to-day. The reading of the case report of a careful psychoanalysis is like the reading of an elaborate account of a suppressed biography, containing the very things which are never brought to light by any other method. Even as such an analysis does not, by any means, give to the investigator an adequate account of an individual’s past. To know an individual’s past one must have lived through that past himself ; in other words, one must be that individual. Of course, there may be much very shrewd guess work on the part of an investigator; but cer- tainly from the behaviorist point of view the indulgence of such guess work is particularly in conflict with the rigid requirements which be- haviorism sets up for scientific psychology. Behaviorism and Personality. Note the simplicity of Dr. Watson’s suggestions for the study of “personality.” Space here is too brief to give anything like an adequate account of his criteria. First, there is a suggestion of the intelligence tests of the Binet type and others. But in cases where the individual is too “complex ” to be rated in this way, other tests are suggested to show the range of information, learning ability, retentiveness and the accuracy of his observations under simple conditions. But it has already been demon- strated by many psycho-pathologists that in all these responses, the indi- vidual’s functions may be impaired by an unconscious emotional complex. For instance, in the word-association tests of Jung, it has been shown that where such a complex is touched by a test word, the “ reaction time ” is uniformly lengthened. Again, Dr. Watson suggests a general survey of the instinctive and emotional equipment and attitude, and the number and variety of the in- dividual’s “drives” to activity. Does one display a normal amount of curiosity; has he a “knack of doing things with his hands;” what par- ticular bents and hobbies has he; what is the history of his early sex enlightenments, sex attachments, and so on? This last is a problem which can never be answered except by the method of psycho-analysis. Again, are the individual’s emotional reactions well balanced? ‘This suggestion is altogether too general. In the study of a person’s general habits of work, the following ques- tions are suggested for consideration: Is he punctual? Does he give up easily? Does he work to his limit? Is he adverse to having extra duties put upon him? Does he work by rule of thumb? Is he fixed upon his present level of attainment or is he making progress? Each one of these questions suggests that back of it a hundred others should be asked. Cer- tainly, in all these particulars, circumstances alter cases, not only circum- stances of the present environment, but circumstances which may have affected the individual in early childhood and have been long forgotten. Again, the activity level is taken as an important element in personal- ity. Is the individual lazy or industrious? Is he talkative? Is he given to frequent laughter and loud conversation? Are his movements in good form or is he awkward? And so forth. Again, social adaptability is taken into account. How many intimate friends has the individual? What is the history of his family relationships? How easily does he get acquainted 278 with people? How loyal is he? How tactful? Is his society sought by others? Here also, we seem to be dealing with the widest generaliza- tions. Any one of these particulars may be the result of influences operat- ing throughout an entire life history. And to ignore such influences would be to take merely a “ snap judgment.” The same is true of the questions sug- gested to determine capacity in recreation and sports; or organized sex-life or reaction to conventional standards. Whether one is boastful in con- quests, or prudish and easily shocked, trustworthy in money matters, or a flirt, a lover of music, over-meticulous or foppish, all depends very much on how the investigator defines these terms. Surely for adequate study of personality something more specific, something that will give intimate insight into the causes of behavior and some knowledge of the integration of a whole personality is needed. The behaviorist view of personality is a curiously mechanistic one. We are told that personality is merely the organism at work. Those who regard personality in any other way are said to be “ superstitious people” who either have a romantic view of persons or are the victims of erroneous religious considerations. Personality as a whole is compared .to a gas engine. The way in which a gas engine works is its “ personality” and that is all there is to it. When the separate parts work together efficiently so that the engine runs smoothly, its personality is well integrated; when not, it shows that the engine has a “personality disturbance” of some kind. The behaviorist attempt to give an account of personality means that he has to resort to what I want to call an addative process. Having first in his laboratory separated behavior into a number of specific reflexes, in- herited or conditioned, the behaviorist, in the end, seeks to reintegrate his subject by the simple process of putting his “ Humpty-Dumpty together again.” Now, of course, a unity so achieved must necessarily be artificial and of the inorganic type. The gas engine has truly an inorganic unity. One builds a gas engine by assembling parts, which in the state of nature may have been widely distributed in space. But the unity so achieved is merely that of a balance of forces. The unity of an organism is different. A tree begins its life as a single cell and grows out from that simple center. Its unity is central and given. However great the ramifications of its roots and branches and leaves may be, there runs through it all, as a living organism, a unity which is very different from that of a machine. The structure of a ma- chine is achieved from without in; that of an organism from within out. No strictly mechanistic theory of organic functioning seems to me to take this fact adequately into account. In conclusion, behaviorism is, properly speaking, not a theory of the nature of mind. It is a method of study, an application of the scientific technique of animal psychology to human behavior. Such a method nat- urally limits the scope of psychology, but it does so in the interest of clear- ness and of scientific accuracy. And unless the assertion is made that no other method is permissible, such a limitation is quite justifiable even though it leaves many important questions unanswered. On the whole, the behaviorist should be given every opportunity to pursue this method as far as it can be pursued. The behaviorist’s assertion that all behavior may be explained in his terms should not arouse opposition. It is merely 279 his way of expressing the hope that he may some day be successful in advancing scientific knowledge. Should he ever succeed in reaching his goal, there can be no quarrel with his success, for it will then have been established as scientific truth. Certainly there should be no opposition to this method on the ground that we dislike to have the explanation of our mental life so simplified. Naturally, each of us considers himself unique and resents the attempt to account for his personal experience in the uni- versal formulas of science. Certainly much of the opposition to behavior- ism is based on ground which is wholly irrelevant. Often it is the resuit of a general opposition to the accumulation of the body of accurate scien- tific knowledge. 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What is the psychological mean- ing of our modern faith in progress? ‘This faith does not seem to have characterized the thought of earlier ages in the way that it does our own. It is essentially a modern and Western belief. The distinguished English scholar, Mr. Bertrand Russell, says of the Chinese that they have no in- terest in progress; in fact, when you speak to them about it, they do not know what you mean; they are satisfied to keep things as they are. From the literature of the Ancients I do not find that the idea of progress played any great part in their civilization. Greece in the Periclean age made great progress, but the Atheneans do not seem to have had the con- cept of progress as such. Medieval Christianity was essentially conserva- tive. Its aim was to preserve, without corruption from human sources, sacred tradition and institutions. Change was not welcome, though, of course, it did occur. Even the men who participated in the Protestant Reformation did not regard their movement as a “ progressive” one. They did not speak as some of our present day progressives speak, saying that in a changing world, religion also must change. They regarded their movement as a return to pure primitive Christianity. This was the ideal which they sought to achieve. It was an ideal which belonged to the past; not to the future. A. step in human advance as great, perhaps, as any we have had in history was made by the Humanists of the Renaissance; yet these men felt rather that they were reviving the values of a civilization that had long been dead. They were concerned with the writings of the ancients, and the very movement in which they participated was called the Re- naissance, “ rebirth;” that is, the revival of ancient culture. Thus it has been the thought of most men down to modern times that the “ golden age’”’ lay in the past; that the ancients possessed a wisdom which sub- sequent generations must preserve; that the fathers were wiser than the sons. Hence, tradition and authority have held sway. Men have felt that their greatest service to civilization was to preserve from decline that which had once been delivered to man. The idea of progress seems to have taken hold of the minds of men about the time of the transfer of power from the classes to the masses. It is, in a sense, a democratic belief. And the golden age is transferred from the past to the future. The future takes on utopian colors and men begin to feel that with the passing of time they are walking toward the light. A new optimism of the masses has thus come to earth. Change is welcome and change is held to be good in itself. The flow of time which to many wise men of the past was that which ate up all things, is held by moderns to be that which brings all things. ‘“‘ Every day and in every way ” everybody is “ getting better and better.”’ The hard lot of man on earth is only a temporary condition. The future of humanity is bright. It is assured. And the present is better than anything that has ever been before. Up-to-dateness becomes a standard of value. [283] 284 Progress is to be shared by all. It is like the gospel of grace: “ Who- soever will may come.” One need only believe in progress, work for progress, to possess The Good. The philosophers praise progress; men live for it; evolution seems to prove it; few doubt it, or ask whether it is all good. It was, during the last century, held to be enough that we were all progressing toward that “ far-off divine event’ toward which the whole creation moves. Progress is a new Law and a new Gospel. It isa cosmic fact which, working through the forces of society, gives to the world a meaning of its own, and is in itself enough to justify existence. To us in America this faith in progress is, to a great extent, ap- parently, a deduction from fact. We are of the new world; our country is still young, its resources are vast and promising and their development and exploitation has been rapid indeed. Millions here have gained a new start in life, a new self-reliance, America has emancipated many men from the slavery of the old world. The country has grown rapidly. New fields annually blossom in what was hitherto desert and forest. Cities have grown to be metropolitan centers in the life-time of a single generation. New mechanical inventions, each more wonderful than the last, have fascinated the imagination of men and have transformed their ways of life. The productivity of labor has been increased. New comforts have been added to living and with each step of advance there have come new and unexpected demands and satisfactions and achievements. Living has become something of an adventure. Scientific knowledge of the world has come to us with startling rapidity. Education and the franchise have been extended until they have become wellnigh universal. Organization has grown; the functions of government have been extended; so that we find our whole way of life radically different from that of one hundred years ago. Who then can doubt progress? I do not. In raising this ques- tion, “how much progress can human nature stand?” I am not suggest- ing a reactionary view. There have always been men who felt that the world was becoming so complex that life in it was too strenuous. I am not here to preach “ the simple life,” nor to suggest the “return ‘to nature.” Neither is it my purpose to plead for progressivism. ‘There is a great deal of that being done, and I am not sure that I know just what is meant by it. Almost anything may be called progressive. Not long ago I noticed an advertisement in a weekly paper of a series of articles purporting to set forth a new sex morality. The reader was urged to “ be progressive.” and read these articles. There are certain religionists who have just dis- covered what most educated people have been thinking for half a century and are proclaiming a “ progressive religion.” Not long ago I saw an advertisement which read “ Progressive Hot Air Furnace.” What I wish’ to know about progress is what it is doing to us? J wish to know what; we mean by progress; in what direction we are progressing; and what we shall be like when we get there. Now, what is progress? I doubt if many people try specifically to answer this question. “ Why, progress is just progress; just general im- provement.” Yet it ought to be possible for us to have some definite ideas as to what progress is. In concrete cases we use the term in this definite way. If a man, for instance, has a position where he feels that 285 he cannot succeed, where promotion to a position of greater responsibility or increase in pay seems to be out of the question, he will probably say, “TI think I will leave this job. I cannot make any progress here.” Again, if a person undertakes a task, the completion of which requires some time —like learning to play golf or to make music, acquiring a language, build- ing a house, organizing a movement, or writing a book—his friends may ask him if he is making any progress. Now what do we mean by prog- ress in this sense? We obviously mean the nearing of a goal, the achievement of an end. By progress, then, we mean that we are in the way of realizing any sort of purpose. 6 Hence, by the progress of society, or “ social progress,” we mean several things. In the broadest sense, progress would mean the sum- total of all achievements of ends. Anything men are doing could be called progress. The difficulty with this conception of progress is that it is too general, since it includes all the conflicting purposes of men. And it is doubtful if we can say that there is more progress now than in former ages, since men have always been realizing some sort of purposes. The other evening as I left the house to give a lecture, 1 saw some com- motion in the street. There was a large truck standing near the corner of Seventh Avenue. It seems that this truck was loaded with a valuable cargo of silk. Some robbers had boarded the truck near Washington Square, bound the driver and started off with their spoils. They made excellent progress until they reached the corner of Seventh Avenue, when something happened to the engine. Then they had to make a different kind of prog- ress. But as they were more progressive than the police, they got away. Such a general view of progress, then, still further necessitates the determination of desirable ends. Else anything becomes progress. Shakespeare’s Iago conceives a diabolical scheme for the destruction of the happiness of Othello and Desdemona. He gets on famously. Is his success progress? A group of dishonest politicians set out to control the government and exploit it shamelessly. Is their action progress? France is Just now making much headway in the plan of certain French politicians and industrialists to crush Germany. Could we call their action progress? The difficulty is that men cannot agree here as to what ends are progressive. Shall we say, then, that there must be some special trend or tendency running through an age in order that there may be progress? Here, too, we are confronted with the same difficulty. Mankind is divided into various struggle groups, each of which believes that there is a tendency making for the achievement of its own ends or for the dominance of its own particular crowd. Thus, the “ Fundamentalists” would interpret progress as the gradual increase in the number of persons who are op- posed to the teaching of evolution. The more “monkey legislatures” there are, the more progressive these people feel our age is. To the scientist this would not be progress at all. He would conceive of progress as the advance in the naturalistic explanation of phenomena. The pro- hibitionist conceives of progress as the more and more successful en- forcement of the Eighteenth amendment. The Ku Klux Klan feels that the world is progressing when the partisan religious strife of the Seven- teenth Century is being revived. To the Socialist progress is the in- evitable law of “ evolution and revolution,” making toward the Co-opera- 286 tive Commonwealth. To the Capitalist progress is business prosperity. To many men progress means the increase of democracy; and yet to Nietzsche democarcy was not progress at all, but decadence. Hence, the idea that progress is a single, universal tendency in society or dominant trend is an idea that easily lends itself to propaganda of all sorts. There must be some criterion before we can know what is progress. There is no such thing as progress in general. Progress is not a uni- form, universal tendency to improvement. What we always see is the rise and decline of some specific curve of achievement. Gothic archi- tecture had its development and after reaching a certain point of per- fection, it remained static, or became corrupted as Renaissance art in- fluenced it. Likewise, Greek sculpture had its rise and decline. Also ancient philosophy; Egyptian art; Roman imperialism; Medieval knight- hood; English law, and modern mechanics. Each of these interests has its special day after which progress in that direction cease. And no age shows progress uniformly in all respects. This view of progress which I have just sketched is admirably set forth by Dr. Alexander Goldenweiser, and in somewhat modified form by Dr. Flinders Petrie in his little book, “ The Revolutions of Civiliza- tion.” Petrie shows that there have been eight periods of civilization in each of which a special culture has had its rise and decline. He takes sculp- ture as the basis for his study of these periods and on this basis would sepa- rate the last four civilizations somewhat as follows, to note a few of his epochs :—From 4750 B. C. to 3450 B. C., from 3450 B. C. to 1550 B. C., from 1550 B. C. to 450 B. C., from 450 B. C. to 1240 A. D. He suggests that the curve which has its climax at this last date, is now on the decline. He finds that the zero point of sculpture does not come at the same time as the zero point of other arts. Painting reaches its zero point about 160 years later; literature 360; mechanics 550; science and wealth something over 650. All this means that an age which is on the upward curve in some aspects of its life is on the downward curve in others. There is no uni- formly creative evolution in society. This, then, is progress: the develop- ment of some specific institutions of art or science, over a certain length of time. There is no law of progress in general. There is as much decline in history as there is advance—different things at different times reach- ing their period of culmination and subsequent decay. At any period in history, both these processes are taking place. The Fifth Century B. C. made progress in art, philosophy and science. But at that time, the whole social structure was beginning to crumble and perhaps the racial stock was already on the decline in the Periclean age. The Roman Empire made progress in government and law until the climax was reached in the Code of Justinian in the beginning of the Sixth Century. But during this same period, there was a general cultural decline. So much so that the Roman Empire itself hardly survived the formulation of this code. Yet, Justinian’s reign was looked upon as one of great achievement. The Middle Ages made progress in religion and morals and some progress in the arts. But there was a marked decline in government, industry and scholarship. The Renaissance made progress in scholar- ship but there was a great falling off in religion, piety and morals, 287 and some scholars maintain that even Renaissance painting and sculpture are decadent. So the idea of progress in general is a faith. It is a democratic faith. As a faith, it has value in that it gives those who hold it a certain youthfulness of spirit and forward look, but it does not neces- sarily make for profundity of thought or soundness of judgment. In one sense, a psychological sense, it is, in part, a device for the self- justification and idealization of the mass. As power comes to be more and more committed to the average man, that man feels that the world is making progress. He naturally believes in himself, and his own future. The mass feels that as a mass it will achieve a utopia where the wise men of the past have failed. The faith in progress also comes in as a handy justification of the abuses of a democratic age. Is the world cheap and tawdry? Have the chosen representatives of the mass made a mess of government? Has the general advance of culture among the people been slow and something of an imitation of the real thing? Do ignorance and superstition still prevail? Only be patient. Progress will remedy these things automatically. ‘“‘ The cure for democracy is more democracy.” The age of the common man must inevitably turn out to be the goal of all history. Surely the masses do nothing but create progress. I do not wish to dispel this comfortable illusion. But as progress is always along some specific line of development, it is created by the few who are the special workers in some particular field of endeavor. Progress in scholarship is created by a succession of scholars; progress in art is created by artists. The only conceivable general progress would be improvement of the racial stock. It is a favorite dogma of democracy that the racial stock may be improved by manipulating the environment, and many efforts have been put forth in the attempt to do this. They have not, however, been very successful. The weight of biological opinion is on the side of those who argue that the racial stock may only be inmproved by selective breeding. And there are many who maintain that the race instead of improving is on the decline inasmuch as in any generation it is the finer human types who do not reproduce their numbers. What then is progress? It is, as I say, a specific development of a certain aspect of life for a short period. It is achieved by a few people while other aspects of life remain static or turn decadent. The fruits of this progress may or may not be enjoyed by society as a whole. The Direction of Present Day Progress. We have seen what progress is. Now let us try to discover in what direction progress in our own day may be moving. To make this discovery we shall be obliged to examine various specific factors in our civilization to see whether they are on the upward or the downward side of the curve of progress. We shall take as a criterion the fact of creativeness. Where new and original thinking is taking place, we have progress. Where there is only imitation and standardization and repetition, and where the changes which occur are indicative of a less vigorous expenditure of mental effort, we shal! say that we are witnessing a decline. This is the only criterion that we 288 have, because if we should try any other, we should prejudice the case. We ought not judge the tendencies of the times by arbitrary and a priori attempts to predict the future. We should then be assigning ends rather than describing processes. Our age is undoubtedly tend- ing in the direction of those achievements in which there is most original, creative interest. It is just where there is creative activity, that there is progress. Let us now discuss some of these specific elements in civilization. I think most people will agree that in mechanics we are still on the upper curve of progress. There is an ascending scale. The develop- ment of mechanical contrivances goes on at an accelerating speed. Here there is creativeness and imagination. There is a rapidly in- creasing body of knowledge. Experimentation rather than appeal to tradition characterizes thinking about mechanical matters. During the last twenty-five years very revolutionizing inventions have appeared; such as the aeroplane, the development of the automobile, wireless, and the amazing advance which has been made in electrical mechanics. The next fifty years may be expected to bring still further new achievements and hence still further to revolutionize industrial processes. We cannot predict what the end will be because we can- . not foresee inventions which have not yet appeared. Neither can we forecast what the social effects of such inventions will be. But we can, with some assurance, say that the development of mechanics together with the effects of such development, will in one hundred years make the world so different from what it is now that we, could we come back to life then, should find ourselves in an environment which would be more strange to us than ours would be to Galileo, could he come back to earth to-day. As with mechanics, so with the organization of industry. During the last generation a large number of the most able men in the world have sought their careers not in the learned professions, but in the manage- ment of business. Business today is very different from business seventy-five years ago. New methods are devised; a new technique is being developed. Vast organizations and far-reaching projects are envisaged and carried through with amazing foresight and skill. There are some persons who do not agree with what I have just said. It is a common belief among certain schools of radicals that the present capitalist system is breaking down. There are indications of this fact in Europe; most of them are the after-effects of the war; and it can be said with much truth that capitalist interests had something to do with causing the war. But even bankrupt Germany had its Stinnes. British finance has been able, in spite of most difficult con- ditions, to stabilize British currency and to carry burdens undreamed of before the war. American financiers were never so powerful as to-day. On the whole, I should say, that the apparent breakdown of the capitalist system in certain countries is more the result of the breakdown of government than a decline of business sagacity. Even should some form of socialism be substituted for our present system of private ownership, it is conceivable that the creativeness in indus- trial organization might continue. Dr. Frank Bohn says that we are on the verge of a development of super-capitalism and that the organ- 289 ization of business will in the next fifty years reach such heights that it will tower above our present level, as the Woolworth Building towers above the old post office building on lower Broadway. There is science. The scientific age is by no means done. When the 19th century closed, John Fiske wrote a book called “A Century of Science,” tracing the amazing progress that had been made since the day about one hundred years previous when Joseph Priestly discovered oxygen. One writing at the close of the 20th century will probably find that the development of science in this century will have far exceeded that of the previous one. I need only mention the new developments with radio activity and the amazing work which is being done on the structure of the atom, to show that we are on the verge of undreamed-of advance in science. Let us now turn to the standard of living. To many minds this is one of the prime indicators of progress. As I see it, there are two tendencies today in the general changes that have taken place in the standard of living. Social psychologists have defined the standard of living as follows: “A man’s standard of living consists in the acquire- ment of those things which he insists upon having even if he is obliged to forego marriage and parenthood.” That is to say, men may be separated into various groups. Some people will marry with no prospects and are quite willing to beget children in abject poverty. Their standard of living is very low. Others postpone marriage until there is some degree of comfort. The number of their offspring will be limited so that they do not have more children than they can pro- vide for with some expectation of giving their children better oppor- tunities than they themselves had. Others, let us say, the persons of aristocratic or genteel lineage who have suffered reverses, may forego marriage altogether because they cannot live in the circumstances to which they were born. Now the significance of all this for social psychology consists not merely in the amount of things which people insist upon having before marriage and parenthood, but in the kind of things they demand. Of course, the amount of property insisted upon has great social significance, for it is obvious that those who are willing to have large families without adequate means of supporting them are, on the whole, endowed with less foresight and capacity for sustained effort and self-control than those who in the same economic condition demand a higher standard of living. It is a sociological fact that the former type produce by far the largest number of children of any class in society; while those whose standard of living is higher tend not to reproduce their numbers. Many biologists see in this fact a serious disgenic selection for parenthood; in other words, it makes for the survival of the unfit. They maintain that the mental quali- ties which cause people to be content with a low standard of living are ine heritable, and hence they argue that the racial stock must inevitably decline. Of course, where there is a declining racial stock, there cannot long be progress in any direction inasmuch as genius may, by the wrong kind of selective breeding, be bred out of a race. When we come to consider the second factor in the standard of living, namely, the kind of things which constitute it, for different types of men, 290 we see evidence of the divergent tendency of which I spoke a minute ago. On the whole, the standard of living judged in amount of goods possessed, seems to be rising in western civilization owing largely to the greater in- crease in production. But if we consider the quality of goods possessed, perhaps a brief historical sketch of what it is that has set the standard of living may be of interest to us. Thorstein Veblen, in his book, “‘ The Theory of the Leisure Class,” if I understand him correctly, argues that in times gone by, the master class indulged itself in what he calls “ conspicuous leisure.” Men displayed their wealth because such display gave evidence of the fact that they were masters of many servants and social position came to be associated with such display. I think that this is only partially correct. Many of the gentry of the 17th and 18th centuries and before have often been comparatively poor. But they have insisted on a certain degree of culture, education, and good taste, and genteel manners. These things came to be the hallmarks of gentility. They were more insisted upon than was the mere possession of wealth. In fact, the aristocrat and noble have always regarded the rich man who did not have these things with ridicule and contempt. Wealth, therefore, for the upper class in old so- cieties was not an end. It was rather a means, necessary for the leisure required to support a high degree of culture. It was in this culture rather than in mere possession that the noble and the gentleman felt themselves superior persons. At the time of the French Revolution in the 18th century a class of plebeians, the bourgeois, had risen to such wealth that its members often possessed more of this world’s goods than did the gentry or aristocracy. But the bourgeois class lacked the culture of the latter. Hence its mem- bers—of course, there were many notable exceptions—tended to make possession of wealth a criterion of personal superiority, because wealth was a thing they themselves possessed; and to this they added a sort of imita- tion of the culture which characterized the older upper classes. With the opening up of industrial opportunity in America vast numbers of plebeians worked their way into the class of the wealthy. Wealth became an end, a mark of distinction, a criterion of success. One had to keep up with one’s neighbor. The standard of living consisted more in the possession of things than in the attainment of culture, and this is so to a large extent in America to-day. Now just as the business class imitated the gentry, and in a manner put on their culture from the outside, so the masses to-day strive to imi- tate the successful business man, to dress like him, to lay emphasis on what he has, and so forth. Certain psychologists recently made a study of the number of children who attend high school. The children whose par- ents were members of learned professions were found to outnumber many times those whose parents belonged to the artisan class, whose incomes were practically identical with those of the professional class. This means that a very large proportion of the masses even when their material stand- ard of living is raised, does not insist upon education. The tendency is rather to spend money for imitations of the things the rich have. Thus, if Babbitt’s rides in a Stutz or Rolls Royce, Henry Dubb wants a Ford. If Babbitt’s daughter wears a sable coat, Henry’s daughter must have a coat of dyed cat fur. If the boss buys a player piano, Henry must have a twenty-five dollar victrola. Both play jazz. If the tired business man 291 must have his cabaret, the tired worker goes to a movie. Neither insists on a very high standard of entertainment. Babbitt takes his vacation in Atlantic City and Henry Dubb week-ends at Coney Island. Both places are very much alike. Both Babbitt and Henry agree on despising “ high- brows.” Both can, without serious feeling of deprivation, get along with- out even a bowing acquaintance with the cultural values of civilization. This means that even with a general increase in per capita wealth the real standard of living may be on the decline. A community much poorer than ours may very easily have a higher standard. We are to a large extent content with a general shoddiness and spiritual cheapness which a more fastidious community, even though living in what we should call great poverty, would not endure. This accounts for much of the ugliness and tawdriness of American life. It is seen in our journalism and in our literature. Just compare the literary style of Jonathan Edwards with that of the Reverend Billy Sunday. I do not agree with either of these gentlemen, but I find that Edwards had a poise and grace, a delicacy and refinement, a nobility of spirit which one very seldom sees in the writings of our con- temporaries. Professor Henry Seidel Canby, of Yale University, in a re- cent article in the New York Evening Post, says: “Some fine morning our American will look at his face in the mirror of a new book and say: I am getting tawdry; I am small- minded; I am vulgar. Who will save me from a condition already uncomfortable and likely to be unfashionable! And, then, if there are real aristocrats who can write, their moment will have come. But their task will not be easy. They will have to popularize such unpopular things as leisure and obstinacy and skepticism and respon- sibility. They will have to attack current conceptions of happiness and success. They will have to defend the past without illusion and describe the present without sentimentality. They must know how both to love and to hate.” We have a further illustration in the type of hero which the populace worships. In today’s newspapers there are accounts of the death of two well-known Americans, Mr. Charles Murphy of Tammany Hall and Dr. G. Stanley Hall of Clark University. I have no com- ment to make concerning Mr. Murphy’s career, either of praise or of blame; but the American worship of mere power and success is seen in the fact that the news of his death has been printed in large headlines, and for days the front pages of the Metropolitan papers have been full of the stories of his life. Dr. Hall was one of the two or three most eminent scholars in America. He probably did more for the advance- ment of psychology than anyone in this country, with the exception of William James. Yet the notice of his death appeared on the eighth page in a little account of a few inches. I think this contrast throws some light upon our standard of living so far as values are concerned, and I should say that here we are, on the whole, on the decline. I have not the time for adequate discussion of some of the other trends in modern civilization. We must be content with brief men- tion of them. There is religion. If we compare religion to-day with religion in the middle ages, we note a contrast. I am not an apologist 292 for religion, but it must be said that religion does not occupy the place in men’s lives that it once did. Religious institutions no longer command the respect of men as they once did. They no longer attract to the clergy the type of scholarship they once did. Religious beliefs are not held with the same implicit faith as they once were. I am sure that an unbaised view of the facts will lead us to say that we are decidedly on the downward curve so far as religion is concerned. The same is true of government, though in a different way. Govern- ment to-day appeals to popular imagination. We are still in the political epoch of history. There has been much talk about the progress of gov- ernment. For the most part, this progress has consisted in two things. First, the extension of the functions of government to matters which have hitherto been left to private enterprise. Second, the extension of the fran- chise, with the effect that government takes on more and more the charac- ter of direct democracy. That is, government becomes more and more representative of the mediocre man at the very time when it is attempting tasks which are necessarily difficult. The total result is a loss in states- manship, a tendency to substitute passing fancy for political principles, a tendency toward coerciveness, restrictive legislation and quixotic and ill-considered reform movements. At the same time, the intellectual levet of the personnel to whom the tasks of government are entrusted has sadly declined. The influence of the lobby is greater than ever before. The legislative branch of our government, both state and national, is notoriously undependable and insincere. Huge majorities in both houses, in order to gain the support of well organized self-seeking minority groups, have again and again supported measures so ill-advised that most of those who voted for them did so hoping that they would meet defeat at the hands of others more sincere and courageous than themselves. Corruption in office extends to some of the very highest positions in the government. It is probably not an exaggeration to say that government to-day is at the lowest level it has reached in a century. In morals there is a tendency toward greater conformity and ele- mental decency. In some respects, open prostitution is no longer so flag- rant as formerly. Drunkenness was on the decline some years before the Eighteenth Amendment was enacted. And doubtless there are other in- dications of change for the good. But there is another tendency also. [I do not refer here to the greater freedom which characterizes the present generation, for I believe that in this freedom there is a decided moral gain notwithstanding the fact that many conventions are disregarded and many prudish persons horrified. I regard the “flapper” as one of the most sincere moral reformers among us. What I refer to is precisely the thing which our professional moralists are attempting to achieve: the sub- stitution of external control for personal responsibility; the removal from the individual of the need for choice between good and evil and the placing of it in the hands of government officials. Hence the growing preponder- ance of deference to authority over private judgment. Hence, also, an increase in furtiveness and hypocrisy, a cessation of original thinking and creativeness in moral endeavor, an undue influence given over to unqualified and amateur meddlers, a removal of temptation which gives fools an advantage in the struggle for existence, and hence is positively disgenic. We are, therefore, tending to formalize the moral interest, to 293 make it a matter of rules instead of a consideration of ends; and this means that morals are already on the decline. Finally, let me say a word about education. There are probably more people who have a smattering of knowledge than ever before, but the difficulty is that these people think they have “ got” an education. The idea prevails that education is something you go to school or college for and bring home in some sort of invisible package which most people lay upon the shelf and never look at again. In extending education to such large numbers, the general standard has been lowered. Of course, there are highly trained professional scholars. But the mental level of the average college graduate is probably lower than that of the university student of two or three centuries ago. As an illustration, let us take the standard of scholarship required for a doctor’s degree. In Erasmus’s time it was necessary for a student to have a thorough command of the classics before he could even receive his bachelor’s degree, and the Universities of Louvain and Paris required twelve years of study beyond this before he might be honored with the degree of doctor of divinity. I know men to- day who have this degree and yet can scarcely read and write. Scholar- ship, aside from science and philosophy, and in the sense that scholarship means knowledge of letters, has not made great progress. Now let us sum up what we have said and see in what direction progress is tending. In mechanics, in industrial organization, in science, and in the general possession and distribution of wealth, the curve is up- ward. In the cultural values of civilization there is a general decline. Now it is in these last that the mass as mass has had an influence, such as it did not have in former times, and this means that in all lines of activity where the average man exerts an influence the effect has not been so much a rise of the mediocre man as a mediocritization of culture. In other words, democracy tends to vulgarize and cheapen everything tt touches. Now if we consider all these present trends in their relation to one another, we see that the development of science and organization and machinery mean that we are progressively gaining power; for all these things mean power—power over nature and power over other men. This is the main result of progress in our day and it is valuable. It tends to transform all the relations of men both to nature and to one another, If power can be wisely directed, toward well-considered ends, we may feel that the progress in the directions which I have indicated is a real gain for human life in general. But the ability to choose these ends, that is, to create value, depends upon something that cannot be given us by mere accumulation of power. It demands an interest in that which is qualitative and not quantitative. It consists of acts of choosing, which must be guided by consideration for the cultural values of civilization. The end and aim of every civilization is cultural, and without a keen ap- preciation of such an aim civilization must decline. Now it is precisely in this capacity for appreciation that we have seen a decline rather than an advance Ina word, to answer the question, in what direction is progress moving? I should say, taken as a whole, it is moving in the direction of a standardized and mechanized order of life in which man as mass—that is, undifferentiated mass, or mediocrity—becomes dominant, without that degree of culture which in all times has enabled men to give to life a meaning. Perhaps it would be an exaggeration to say that we are tending 294 to become highly efficient barbarians. But certainly the organization of power, along with the tendency to intolerant mass action, shows very little respect for quality. Dictatorships may be set up in the name of the masses in which there is efficiency and love of power, but in which there may be no real community. In other words, there is a tendency toward ruthlessness and sheer power of numbers, a regimentation of vast hordes often directed by a desperate minority. We see this in Russia in the dic- tatorship which has been set up in the name of the proletariat; we see it in the Fascisti movement in Italy, in the dictatorship in Spain. In our own country, it is evident in such movements as Fundamentalism, Prohibi- tion, the Ku Klux Klan and various so-called reform movements. What Will Our Progress Make of Us? This leads us to the question, What shall we be like when we attain the ends toward which we are moving? Of course, no one can tell, be- cause the unforeseen may always happen. New creative forces may be liberated in directions which we cannot predict. But it is safe to say that society as a whole is moving in the direction of the type of man who re- ceives most consideration and whose dilemmas set the standards of value. That man to-day is the mediocre or sub-mediocre type, the “ low-brow.” We see his influence everywhere. It is to protect him against his own characteristic temptations that laws are made. It is in the attempt to please him that the wireless telephone, a splendid piece of mechanical progress, so frequently becomes devoted to banalities. In fact, the quality of the average radio-program illustrates what I have to say. It is because the motion picture has to appeal to the same type of man that the “ movies” are what they are. The same holds true of jazz, and politics, and journalism, and the Chautauqua. If this sort of thing con- tinues long, aided as it is by our quantity production methods and general tendency to standardization, this is what we shall be like: Our whole life will be on the level of a Ford factory; our religion Billy Sundayized; our lecture platform Bryanized; our morals Sumnerized; our literature writ- ten by the Harold Bell Wrights and Walt Masons; our social life a rotary club. We shall be globe-trotters, without the spirit of cosmopolitanism; newspaper readers but illiterate; high school educated without culture; gregarious without sociability ; political without statesmanship ; comfortable without elegance or poise or grace. The question is then, is it possible to control progress? It is not pos- sible for the mass as a whole to control progress, for progress is created by the few. But it ts possible for somebody to control it. In fact, it has always been the special task of somebody to control it, down to the pres- ent time. The trouble with progress to-day is that no one controls it. The mass is trying to control it. If we are to avoid the inane condition I have tried to describe, an increasing number of people must dare to stand out against our prevailing standards of mediocrity. They must take upon ' themselves the task of creating progress in those very things in which to-day, because of the influence of the mass, there is a decline. I do not mean that we should deliberately wrest from the majority the right to have any say about the cultural values of civilization. I do not believe in a dictatorship of any kind. But I do _ believe that the world is all wrong when wise men are obliged to submit to the Pao he ways of foolish men. There must be a conscious effort to keep alive the love of beauty and truth. I do not mean a sentimental love like that of “ Hermione and her little group of serious thinkers.” I mean that it is possible to conceive of a world the civilization of which is such that a Socrates, an Aristotle, a Cicero, a Montaigne, an Erasmus, and an Emer- son, would feel at home in it. The truly educated man knows what that world would be and he must stand up for it, and never compromise the ideal of it in order to gain favor with the crowd. For in the end, even the multitude cannot stand too great a vulgariza- tion of value. As a matter of fact, the average man is always seeking to get away from himself and from the very drab and inane order of life which his own ways create. Again, there must be kept alive a sense of human worth. There is much said about this to-day, but most men mean by it the perfectly obvious fact that every human life has value for the man who lives it. But aside from this subjective point of view, to say that that value is equal is untrue. There can be no real sense of human worth unless there is a keen appreciation of the fact that some men are by na- ture spiritually superior to others, and have the natural right and duty to determine the ends and values of civilization. This is their true social function and they do not need to be elected to office to perform it. If we ignore this distinction of worth among men, as there is a tendency to - do to-day, we deny that any human achievement or virtue has value. As I have said before, we conceive of progress as something which moves along on a horizontal plane toward a goal which all men are to share alike as if the race were all marching along the road toward some ideal social order. This is not a correct picture. The line of progress in everything is vertical, not horizontal. It consists precisely to the distance which some men may rise spiritually above others, just as the evolution of the race consists in the fact that mankind as a whole is on a higher plane than the apes. The progress of the world, therefore, consists in the very same things as do the spiritual values—in the superiority of some men over others. This is not a popular idea. But it is nevertheless true. And thoughtful people in all classes are beginning to recognize it. Finally, we must keep alive the spirit of liberalism. This is one of the rarest things in the world and one most easily lost. Without it, our tendency toward a standardized and mechanized world means that we are running head-on into tyranny. Human nature cannot permanently stand tyranny. This has been proved again and again, whether that tyranny exists in the name of God or king, or of the proletariat or the democratic majority, or of patriotism; whether it be a tyranny of capitalism, or of prohibition or of bolshevism. Tyranny crushes the heart of man, enslaves the noble spirit and makes of the ignoble a sychophant and a sneak. It gives some men power to interfere with the behavior of others in matters that for the common good and for the self-respect of all must be decided by each for himself, even at the risk of deciding wrong. Tyranny gives the fool and the knave an advantage over the wise man and the honest man. It means always corruption and favoritism and inefficiency. Tyrants, whether crowds or kings, become mad with the sense of power, and for sheer love of it destroy themselves in the attempt to do the impossible. Tyranny makes itself ridiculous and its victims tragic. It always justifies its folly by taking refuge in the assumption of divine authority or moral 270 principle. The king rules by the grace of God; the mob by the precepts of Righteousness. The will to play the tyrant exists in every man. It is one of the deadly sins to which human nature is ever prone. Some men play the tyrant by wearing crowns; some by bullying their wives and children and employees ; some by a show of concern for the moral welfare of their neighbors; some by lording it over the fools whom they can convert to belief in and devo- tion for some dogma or movement; some by uniting with others in a crowd which in its protest against the feeling of inferiority gives itself airs and speaks in a holy tone and promises to itself, that is, its members that ‘-every knee shall bow ” to its idols. If we are to escape from tyranny, vulgarization, and standardization, if civilization is to be worth what it has cost in effort and struggle, if the vast accumulation of power which our age is coming to possess is to be directed toward ends of general human advance, there must be a rapid increase in the number of persons who know what liberal education means. It is that training which sets the mind free,—free from superstition, credulity, rationalization, and bad habits of thinking. There must be urbanity, capacity for suspended judgment, and self understanding, as well as “idealism ” and appreciation of value. It is in this sense that psychology has educational importance. I do not say that psychology is all; by no means. The student should, if he has not done so before, develop an interest in classic literature, in general philosophy and natural science. I can only hope that what has been said in these lectures may have brought him some help in the formation of new habits of thinking. I have not presented this subject as if psychology were a device for easy success nor as a receipt for manipulating our neighbors or deceiving ourselves with false optimism. Our aim has been to attain insight such as will enable us to know when we and others are merely rationalizing and when we are trying to solve real problems. By means of this insight we should be better able to see the true meaning of our behavior and to make some progress at least in self-control and in a knowledge of what is worth doing, which is, after all, the same as a knowledge of men. It is only with such knowledge, and under the volun- tary leadership of those who have it, that social progress can ever create or preserve the things which differentiate men from monkeys and dis- tinguish the civilized man from the savage. INDEX Abnormal mentality, 137 Abnormal mental life, 75 Abnormal mind, 51 Abnormal psychology, 151 Abreaction, 48 Absent objects, 39 Absent-mindedness, 151 Absolute, 36 Acquired modes of response, 271 Acquired tastes, 253 Acquisition, instinct of, 96 Activity, 24, 25 Activity level, 277 Adjustment, 111; to environment, 10, 271; to future ends, Adler, Dr. Alfred, 53, 141 Adolescent youth, 110 Adolescence and religion, 214 Aesthetic judgment, 252 Affect, 104 Afferent current, 22 Alpha Test, 166 Alpine race, 239, 241 All-or-none principle, 99 America, 195 American Indians, 244 Americanism, 194 Amnesia, 151 Analysis, 83 Angell, James, 30 Animal behavior, 18 Animal psychology, 9, 270 Anti-Saloon League, 199, 209 Anxiety, 152 Applied psychology, 10 Arc, reflex, 20, 151 Aristocratic ethic, 261 Aristotle, 2, 7, 295 Army intelligence tests, 247, 165 Associationism, 31 Attention, 147 Auto-eroticism, 52 Automatic behavior, 47 Automatom theory, 64 Autonomic system, 22 Awareness, Axone, 19 Axone fibres, 21 Ayres, C. E., 96 Benavior, 0,47, 10,20); 210; animal, 18: automatic, 47; criterion of, 210; psychol- ogists, 133 Breuaviorism, J. B. Watson, Behaviorism, 62, 65, 66, 67, bt "967, 270,°2/03 and consciousness, 273; and the me- chanistic theory, 278; and personality, 277; as a method, 275; vs. introspection- ism, BreHAvior OF Crowns, THE, E. D. Martin, 195, 203 BEHAVIOR OF THE Lower ORGANISMS, H. S. Jennings, 38 Behaviorists, 71, 184 Bentham, Jeremy, 252 . Bergson, Henri, 36 Berkely, 31 Beta Test, 166 Binet, Alfred, 162, 169 Black race, 238 Bodily activity, 10, 23, 36 Bodily functions, 17 So anace explicit, 82, 271; implicit, S202 SBosssuiee5 Brain, 21 Breese, Burtis Burr, 271 Brill, Dr. A. A., 53, 80, 141, 153 Canby, Henry Seidel, 291 Cannon, W. B., 8, 106, 108 Cranial nerve center, 109 “ Categorical Imperative,” Catharsis, 56 Cell division, 18 Censorship, 199, 248 Cerebral cortex, 21 Cerebro-spinal system, 20 Ceremonialism, 80, 155 Chamber of Commerce, 194 Sa the, 51, 163; and self-consciousness, Childish habits, 214 Chinese, the, 244, 283 Choice, 34 Choosing, instrument of, 142 Christianity, 210 Christian ethic, 257; piety, 254 Church, 179, 216 Cicero, 295 Civilization, 177; cultural values of, 199, 246, 263, 293; and race, 245 ee distinction, 164; opinion, 194; struggle, Clifford, 64 Cobb, Frank, 199 Code of Justinian, 286 Community, 143 Compensation, 155; mechanism of, 55 Complex of ideas, 52 Compulsion, 155 Compulsion neurosis, 54 Conditioned reflexes, 24, 53, 77, 270 Conduct, the ends of, 2 251 252, 259, 262 [297] 298 Consciousness, 5, 16, 30, 61, 65, 148, 274; James on, 274; always changing, 70; criticism of 64; four theories about, 62; stream of, 66; and behaviorism, 273 Construct, the, 24, 26 Co-operative Commonwealth, 285, 286 Cooper Union, 50, 127, 203 Creative thinking, 40 Criterion of progress, 287 Crowd behavior, 210; ideas, 203; opinions, 195; propaganda, 202 iit politics, 227 ; psychology and leadership, 226 Crowds, 144, 155, 185, 232, 260 Cultural values of civilization, 293 Culture, 177 Curiosity, 94 Custom, 255 Darwin, Charles, 1, 89, 106, 122 Day-dreams, 133 Defense, mechanism of, 54 Delusion of “reference,” 143 aaa SE 106, 202,4.290% 28 Dentrites, 19, 21 Determinism, 31,\ 42, 0/0 Dewey, John, 29, 40, 47, 62, 71, 75, 91, 97, 2103255) "'262 on thinking, 124 Dictatorship, 294 Deity, the idea of, 213; as Father, 214 Distinction of worth, 248 Divine revelation, 261 Dogma, 218 Donatello, 254 Dreams, 48, 54, 133 DreAMS, THE INTERPRETATION OF, Freud, 149 Ductless glands, 108 Dunlap, Knight, 46 Durkheim, 180 Nietzsche on, by Education, 4; progress in, 2933 and habit, 76 Edwards, Jonathan, 291 Efferent current, 22 Ego, 136 Ego-ideal, 143 Ego-instinct, 137 Ego-satisfaction, 144 Emerson, 134, 295 Emotions, 103; control of, 113; James on, 104; James-Lange theory of, 105; McDougall on, 104; Watson on, 107; physiology of, 108; and evolution, 106; and psycho-analysis, 110; and roman- ticism, 103 Empirical self, 33, 135 Energy, 25 Environment, 36, 79; adjustment to, 271 Environmentalist argument, “ Epicritic ” response, 23 Epiphenomenon, 64 Equality, dogma of, 171 Erasmus, 254, 293, 295 Erogenous zones, 52 Errors, psychology of, 154; in speech, 49 Escape, 118, 129; mechanism of, 55 Esoteric sects, 213 Espinas, 180 Ethics and psychology, 251; adjustment, 210 Eugenists, 164 Evolution, 19; and emotion, 106; and social science, 17 Evolutionism and instinct, 89 Evolutionist view in psychology, 9 Experience, 6 Explicit bodily movements, 271 Explicit hereditary responses, 272 Extenuation, virtues of, 135 “Extroverted” type, 243 Faculties of the Soul, 31 Family, 214 Family image, 243 Fascisti, 203, 294 Father image in religion, 214 Fear, 155 Fear response, 107, 272 Ferguson, 245 Fictions, 51, 142 Filial attitude, 179 First parent, sin of the, 215 Fiske, John, 289 Fixation, 150, 153, 216 “ Folkways,” 255 Follet, Miss Mary, 181 Fore-knowledge, 66 Forgetting, 49 Free speech, 197 French Revolution, 290 Freud, Sigmund, 34, 45, 63, 91, 110, 133, 148, 149, 150, 153, 276; ‘influence of, 37 FUNDAMENTAL CONCEPTIONS OF Psycno- ANALyYsiIs, Brill, 153 Fundamentalists, the, 285, Gandhi, 237 GENERAL INTRODUCTION ANALYSIS, Freud, 149 Genetic method, 107 Germany and the industrialists, 285 Germ-plasm, 168 Ginsburgh, M., 181 Glands, 22; ductless, 108 Glueck, Dr. Bernard, 142 Gobineau, 240 Seogteersis -Binet test for racial differences, Golden Rule, 261 Goldenweiser, Alexander G., 245, 28 Boca no absolute, 259; different teas of, and social To PsycHoe 299 Government, 232; by the masses, 224; progress in, 292 Grant, Madison, 240 Great Man Aanp His ENVIRONMENT, THE, William James, 239 Gregarious instinct, 97 Gregariousness, 94 Group, 93, 185, 258 Group mind, 69, 175, 181, 185; criticism of, 183; a fiction, 175; McDougall on, 181 Guiding line, 147 Habits, 47, 75; James on, 81; collateral, 79; explicit bodily, 82; implicit bodily, 82; importance of, 75; new, 82; retention of, 84; super, 81; as will, 75; and education, 76; and social behavior, 258 Hall, G. Stanley, 46, 51, 178, 268, 291 Hallowell, Mrs. Dorothy, 244, 245 Hammurabi, code of, 261 Happiness, problem of, 111 Heavenly Father, 215 Hebrew religion, 209 Hegel, 134, 181 Heredity and intelligence, 168, 247 Hereditary modes of response, 271 Hero-myth, 214 Hocking, Wm. E., 94 Holmes, S. J., 247 Homo-sexual, 52 Human behavior, 26, 270 Human Nature ann Conpuct, Dewey, 91 Humanism, 41 Humanists, the, 283 Humanitarianism, 161 Hume, David, 31, 135 Huxley, Thomas H., 64 Hypnotic state, 151 Hysteria, 47, 149 Idealogy, 256 Ideas, complex of, 52, 69; no permanently existing, 32 Identity, principle of, 34 Implicit bodily movements, 271 Implicit hereditary responses, 271 Individual, the ultimate social reality, 176 Individualism, 69 Industry, organization of, 288 Infant mortality, 247 Infantile return, 129 Infantile type of thinking, 157 Inferiority, 246; feeling of, 111, 216 Inferiority complex, 144 Influence of Freud, 57 Instinct, 75, 89; James on, 90; McDougall on, 92, 94, 153; Watson on, 95, 272; classi- fications of, 94; confusion in regard to, 91; definition of, 94; ego, 137; gregarious, 97; inhibition of, 98; in animals, 90; of acquisition, 96; of the herd, 177; of workmanship, 97; and evolution, 89; and natural selection, 90; and reflex, 92; and social psychology, 90; and theology, 89; and variation, 89 Instinctive acts of children, 95 Instrumentalism, 35 Integration, 26 “Intellect an instrument,’ James, 35, 39 Intellectualism, 33, 41 Intelligence in America, 165; and heredity, 168, 247 ; Intelligence tests, 161 Intelligence quotient, 162 Interactionism, 63 Interest, 70 Interested spectators, 40 INTERPRETATION OF Dreams, Freud, 149 Introspection, 268 Introspectionism, 71 Introvert type, 243 Ireland, Alleyne, 169 James. Wii) 758) 9190) 16,120, 24.) Coss; 61, 62, 64, 69, 70, 75, 76, 79, 85, 117, 137, 138, 139, 153, 184, 239, 269, 273, 291; on consciousness, 274; on emotion, 104; on habit, 81; on instinct, 90; on morals, 258; on selection, 147; on spiritual self, 140; on thinking, 120 James’ “ Briefer Course,” 39 James-Lange theory of emotion, 105 Jennings, Herbert S., 37 Jewish people, the, 241, 242 JouRNAL oF ABNORMAL PsyYCHOLOGY AND SoctaL Psycuotocy, 184 Judgment about deeds, 254 Jung, C. G., 108, 243 Justifications, 144 Kant, Immanuel, 2, 135, 259 Kant and the “Categorical Imperative,” Kohs, Dr. S. C., 163, 164, 169 Ku Klux Klan, 203, 246, 285, 294 Laboratory conditions, 18 Language habits, 69 Lasalle, Ferdinand, 227 Leadership, 232; in politics, 226 Learning, the psychology of, 76 Legislation, eugenic significance of, 248 Liberalism, 200, 295 Libido, 52, 143 Lippman, Walter, 191, 195 Living cell, behavior of, 17 Living, the standard of, 289 Loeb, Jacques, 8, 36 Locke, John, 7, 31, 126 Love, 107 300 Man, a choosing animal, 72 Man-made scientific truths, 41 Marx, Karl, 125, 227 Marxian socialism, 268 Masochism, 52 Mass, 188, 231, 287, 294 i Mass reaction,” 23 Master morality, 256 “Material me,” 139 Materialism, 6 Maze experiment, 78 McCurdy, Dr. ee EON G7, McDougall, Wm., 1 25: 33, 371047; 02,491; 168, 243, 245, 273; on emotion, 104: on the group mind, 181; on instinct, 92, Mechanism, 35, 37; of compensation, 55; of defense, 54; of escape, 55 A eat theory, 25, 71; and behaviorism, 278 Medieval Christianity, 283 Mediocrity, 294 Mediterranean race, 239, 240 Melancholia, 135 Memory, 31, 76, 84, 85 Memory “gaps,” 151 Mental development, order of, 163 Mental life, 10; abnormal, 75; a process, 15 Mental testing, 161 Mentality, abnormal, 137 Merriam, Chas. E., 221 Metaphysics, 30 Method in psychology, 9, 269 Michels, Robert, 222 Middle Ages and progress, 286 Mind, 5; no collective, 69 Mob, 156, 296 Montaigne, 295 Morality not the essence of religion, 211; in meets cae Moral crusades, Moral suomi 51 252, 254 Moral training, 79 Morals, James on, 258; Nietzsche on, 256; progress in, 292; and religion, 209 “ Mother fixation,” 155 Mother picture, 198 Motion Picture, 198 Mutual adjustment, 185, 187 Mystery oF ReEticion, Tue, E. D. Martin, 207 Mysticism, 184 Mythology, 157 Narcissism, 51 Nation, 179, 186 National Board of Review of Motion Pictures, 193, 202 Nationalism, 177 Natural science, 6 Natural selection and instinct, 90 Nerve-cells, 19 Nerve center, cranial, 109; sacral, 109 Nerve current, 25 Nervous system, 20 Neurones, 19 Neurotic symptoms, 54 New Testament, 213 Newton, Isaac, 83 Nietzsche, 134, 202, 210, 246, 252, on the “blond beast,” 240; on democracy, 286; on morals, 256 Nordic race, 239, 242 Object, 34 Obscurantism, 158 Observation, learning by, 78 “ Oedipus complex,” 54, 152 Old Testament, as a moral guide, 261; as a moral problem, 261 Optimism of the masses, 283 Order, 40 Organic conception of society, 180 Organism, behavior of, 15; unity of, 278 Orientation, instrument of, 141 Original tendencies, 80 Ovid, 254 Parallelism, 62 Party opinion, 232 Party platform, 228 Pavlow, 8, 24, 79, 151 People as mass, 188 Periclean age, 286 Perry, Dr. Ralph, 176 Personality picture, 140, 147 Personality and behaviorism, 2775 ae Watson on, 277 Petrie, Flinders, 286 Phobias, 112, 155 Physical differences of race, 238 Physiology, 15; of emotion, 108 Plato, 2, 323 on “‘The’ Good,77Z52: Republic, *°103 Plebeian, 262 Pluralism, 69 Politician, 225, 231 Politics, 221; as a method of government, 2352; and democracy, 230 Political “ Boss,” 224 Political life of America, 225 Post hypnotic suggestion, 55 Pragmatism, 33, 41 PrnCme of identity, 34 Principles, 42 PRINCIPLES OF PsycHoLocy, James, 16, 20, 24, 29, 34, 38, 69, 76 Private judgments, 192 Progress, 197; American faith in, 284; criterion of, 287 : direction of present day, 287; how much can human nature stand, “ The 301 283; idea of, 283; law of, 286; mechanical, 288; line of, vertical, not horizontal, 295; in education, 293; in government, 292; in morals, 292; in religion, 291; in scholar- ship, 287; in science, 289; of society, 285; and the Middle Ages, 286; and social psychology, 283; social, 197 Prohibition, 248 Prohibitionists, 128 Projection, 156 Propaganda, 195, 199, 200; is lies, 202; crowd and, 202; and public opinion, 191; and religion, 207 Protests, 144 Protestants, 211 Protestant Churches in America, 209 Protopathic response, 23 Protozoan, 17 Pseudo- psychology, 4 Psycho-analysis, 45, 50, emotion, 110 Psycho-analysists, 154 Psychological difference of race, 238; prob- lem of race, 247 Psycuotocy, R. S. Woodworth, 20 Psychology a natural science, 6; abnormal, 151; animal, 9, 270; applied, 10; educa- tional importance of, 296; the science of behavior, 62; evolutionist view in, 9; laws in, 9; method in, 9, 269; scope of, 8; social, 10, 175; traditional, 267 PSYCHOLOGY FROM THE STANDPOINT OF A Beuaviorist, J. B. Watson, 133 PsycHo.tocy oF Everypay Lire, Freud, 153 Psycho-pathology, 9, 178, 207 PsycHo-PaTHOLoGyY OF -EverypAy LIFE, Freud, 49 Psycho-pathologists, 276 Psycho-sexual life, 51 Psycho-therapeutics, 148 “ Public,” 191 Public interest, 223 Public opinion, 183, 232; and advertising, 201; in America, 198; a caricature, 193; a criticism of, 198; and propaganda, 191; value of, 196 Public self, 192 Puritan philosophy of life, 254 Race, 165, 237; real problem of, 246 Race-consciousness, 237 Race prejudice, 248 Rage, 272 Ralston, 245 Random movements, 23 Rank, Otto, 157, 214 Rationalism, 36 Rationalization, 55, 118, 128, 231 Reaction pattern, inherited, 96 Real, refuge from the, 142 Reality, 33 LOS elo sp oand, Reason, 117 Recognition, 143 Reconciliation, 215 Redemption, 215; from sin, 212 “Reference” delusion of, 143 Reflex action, 22 Reflex arc, 20, 151 Reflex, conditioned, 24, 53, 77, 270; pere fecting of, 76; simple, 22, 66; and in- stinct, 92 Regression, SOMES 7, Reintegration, ‘total, Soa Religion, 55; progress in, 291; institutions of, 209; the essential element of, 208; psychology of, 207; social aspects of, 216; super-ethical inj elise and adoles- cence, 214; and morality, 211; and morals, 209; and propaganda, 207; and the unconscious, 207; and sex, 215; and social habits, 216 Religious attitudes, 218 Religious crowds, 210 Religious ideas and sees Zlz Renaissance, 254, 283, 286 Repression, 53) 80, 147, 153 REPUBLIC, THE, Plato, 32. 103 Republican party, 196 Response, 20, 150; acquired modes of, 271; epicritic, 23; fear, LU/peac7 ce: inherited mode of, 113) 271; protopathic, Zoe specific, at ZotO. stimulus, 271 Retentiveness, 85 Reverie, 118 Revott AGAINST CIVILIZATION, THE, L. Stoddard, 238 Right and wrong, psychology of, 253 es Tipe oF Cotor, Tuer, L. Stoddard, Rivers, Dr. W. H. R., 23, 93, 96 Robinson, James Harvey, 124 Roman Empire, 286 Romantic love, 144 Romanticism and emotion, 103 Roosevelt, Theodore, 227 Rotary Club, 194 Rousseau, Jean Jacques, 2, 245 Routine thinking, 127 Rumors, 195 Russell, Bertrand, 283 Russia, 203, 231 Sacral nerve center, 109 Sadism, Salvation, 212 Santayana, Prof. Geo., 200 Scamp psychologists, 53 Schiller, F.C. S:, 30 Scholarship, progress in, 287 Schopenhauer, 134 Science, 7, 178, 197; characteristics of, 8; progress in, 289 302 Scientific logic, 275 Scientific truths, man-made, 41 Scientists, 61 Selection, 34, 38, 147 Self-consciousness, 133; and the child, 136 Self, the, 135, 147; empirical, 135; feeling, 137; idealization, 147; knowledge, 137; love, 34, 138; preservation, 94 Sensations, 147 Sex and religion, 215 Shakespeare’s Othello, 285 Shakespeare’s Sonnets, 254 Shaw, Bernard, 183, 251 Simple reflexes, 22, 66 Sin, 218; and redemption, 215 Situation as a whole, 26 Slave morality, 256 Social adjustment and ethics, 210 Social behavior, 155, 186, 233; and habit, 258 Social environment, 187 Social “mind” not a “thing,” 178 Social order, 256 Social progress, 197 Social psychology, 10, 175, 246, 248; and progress, 283 Social self, 33, 139 Social theories, 2 Socialist Party, 222 Society, 178, 186, 187; a sort of family, 178; as God, 187; not a thing, 70; organic conception of, 180; progress of, 285 Society for the Prevention of Vice, 254 Socrates, 117, 255, 295 Solving problems, 68, 118 Soul, 5, 30, 31 Specific response, 21, 23 Speech, errors in, 49 Spencer, Herbert, 7, 15, 20, 106, 179 Spinal cord, 21 Stimuli, 147 Stimulus, 20; delayed response to, 150 Spiritualism, 31 Spiritual self, 140 StyPanl 210 St. Thomas Aquinas, 7 Standardization, 296 Stoddard, Lothrop, 168, 233, 240 Stream of Thought, 69 Stereotypes, 195 Structure, 19 Struggle for existence, 65 Sublimation, 157 Substance, 31, 36 Substitution, 156 Sumner, Prof. Wm. G., 197, 255 Sunday, Rev. Wm., 291 Super habits, 81 Syllogism, 122 Symbols, 40, 49, 213 Sympathetic system, 20, 109 Synapses, 21 Taboo, 81 Temperament, 153 Terman, Dr. Lewis M., 163 Test for racial difference, 244 Theology, 208; and instinct, 89 THEORY OF THE LEISURE CLASS, Veblen, 290 Thinker, types of, 198 Thinking, 82, 117, 231; Dewey on, 124; James on, 120; Watson on, 123, 273; and purpose, 123; about ourselves, 133, 191; creative, 40; infantile type of, 157; kinds of, 118; objective, 158; problem solving, 120; routine, 127 Thorndike, E. L., 119 Thought, 184; continuous, 70; no imper- sonal, 69 Tocqueville, de 195 Tolstoy, 215 TorEM AND Tazoo, Freud, 150 Trauma, 153 Trial-and-error thinking, 119 Trotter, Dr. W., 47, 97, 177 Truths, 41, 123 Type of man, 294 Tyranny, 295 THE, Unconscious, the, 50, 63, 157; Freud on, 148; behavior, 147; impulses, 49; in Behavioristic terms, 150; influence on behavior, 152; and religion, 207 Ultimate realities, 32 Universal judgment, 185 “ Unstriped ” muscle tissue, 22 Variation and instinct, 89 Veblen, T., 98, 290 Virtue, 259 Virtues of extenuation, 135 Vulgarization of value, 295 Watson, John B., 8, 9, 20, 23, 62, 75, 76, 82, 84, 93, 133, 269, 271, 272, 273, 2763>0m emotion, 107; on instinct, 95, 272; on personality, 277; on thinking, 123; and the aim of psychology, 275 Wealth, per capita, 291 Weber, 3 White, Dr. Wm., 53 Wiggam, Albert, 168 Writ To Be.teve, THE, Wm. James, 239 Wilson, Woodrow, 229 Wish invariably egotistic, 49 Working class psychology, 194 Workmanship, instinct of, 97 Woodworth, R. S., 8, 20, 29, 62, 76, 78, 83 Yerkes, R. M., 165 WRITE FOR PRICE, $3.00 The First Popular Presentation of BEHAVIORISM JOHN B. WATSON Formerly Professor of Psychology and Director of the Psychological Laboratory, Johns Hopkins University LECTURES CONTENTS I. Wuat Is Benaviortsm? The old and new Psy- chology contrasted. II. How to Stupy Human Beuavior. Problems, methods, technique and samples of results. III. THe Human Bopy. What it is made of, how it is put together, and how it works. Part I—The structures that make Behavior possible. IV. THe Human Bopy. What it is made of, how it is put together, and how it works. Part I1—The glands in everyday Behavior. V. ArE THERE ANY Human Instincts? Part I—On the subject of talent and tendencies and the inheritance of all so-called “ mental” traits, VI. Are THERE Any Human INSTINCTS? Part I1—What the experimental study of the human young teaches us. VII. Emotions. What emotions are we born with—how do we acquire new ones—how do we lose our old ones? Part I—A general survey of the field and some ex- perimental studies. VIII. Emotions. What emotions are we born with—how do we acquire new ones—how do we lose our old ones? Part I]—Further experiments and observations on how we acquire, shift and lose our emotional life. IX. Our Manuat Hasits. How and when they start, how we retain them, and how we discard them. X. TALKING AND THINKING. Which when rightly un- derstood goes far in breaking down the fiction that there is any such thing as mental life. XI. Do We Atways THINK IN Worps? Or does our whole body do the thinking? XII. Personaritry. Presenting the thesis that our person- ality is but the out-growth of the habits we form. Pre heys i aed iM ° . yt "Rd; rt oe . h E i ‘; * +i y “a 4 gt ,4 wi f on © ‘, fy Warr on ; f i] b 7 : t , % | ( he 4 iaivullas , , . far (| ' t 4 ' | | a Poh 2 r Ay, Lf . F i] vy ‘ l ) : ' \ } | ‘ - ; “ ‘ ' * 7's B A ¥ “a | ear 4, x | é ; me * ov : ; - ; . ‘+ i H ' rs re 4 ~ : - “* .! / y Y ; 4 ’ , + Gu > ' y j 1 a ‘ | . { 7 : | ‘ i i * we : % j ‘ ; ra ‘ : _ 1 ' : a * 7 , { , ’ : . y ’ i ‘ ’ 4 * u ’ i » y y i {/ ' i i ; ‘ ‘ | - : cs } 7 + VN *t \ i) ‘ ‘ i { j ; 4 ~ 7 ‘ ' ; : : ive ‘ / ' i iz ‘ ‘ J { ; i j ‘ | i ' i ‘ ’ ; : | es | WRITE FOR PRICE $3.00 INFLUENCING HUMAN BEHAVIOR BY H. A. OVERSTREET Professor and Head of the Department of Philosophy, College of the City of New York. Lecturer, New School for Social Research CONTENTS PART ONE: INTRODUCTORY TECHNIQUES CHAPTER I. THE KEY PROBLEM: CAPTURING THE ATTENTION II. THE APPEAL TO WANTS III. THE PROBLEM OF VIVIDNESS IV. THE PSYCHOLOGY OF EFFECTIVE SPEAKING V. THE PSYCHOLOGY OF EFFECTIVE WRITING VI. CROSSING THE INTEREST DEAD-LINE VII. MAKING IDEAS STICK PART TWO: FUNDAMENTAL TECHNIQUES VIII. How To CHANGE PERSONS: THE ENTER- ING WEDGE . THE BUILDING OF HABITS: ASSOCIATIVE ‘TECHNIQUES OuR UNCONSCIOUS FABRICATION HABITS . THE PROBLEM OF STRAIGHT THINKING DIAGNOSING THE PUBLIC . TRAINING THE CREATIVE MIND CONFLICT AND INVENTION . THE TECHNIQUE OF HUMOR . THE INDIVIDUAL AND HIS WorRLD a oe i ee +s 26 » é Write for Price, $3.00 Lecture J. PSYCHOLOGY What It Has to Teach You About Yourself and Your World BY EVERETT DEAN MARTIN Director, The People’s Institute A complete outline of Psychology which ‘‘relates the new science of the mind to common problems of the hour.’’——The New York Times. CONTENTS What Psychology really is—Its Uses and Abuses. Psychology and Physiology—A Study of Reactions. Psychology and Philosophy — The Place of William James. What Psychologists think about Consciousness. The Fatality of Habits. Human Nature and the Problems of Instinct. Man and his Emotions. A Lecture on How We Think. The Value of the Fictions We invent about Ourselves. The Unconscious and its Influence upon Human Behavior. The Significance of the Intelligence Tests. Is there a Group Mind? What governs the Behavior of People in Society. The Psychology of Propaganda and Public Opinion. The Psychology of Religion. Are there Psychological differences of Race. The Psychology of Politics. Ethics in the Light of Psychology. Psycho-analysis—What Freud and his Followers have done to Psychology. Behaviorism. — The Latest and Most Debated Development. - How much Progress ean Human Nature Stand?, - i ei . +a ‘ \ * : i ey > + 4 tall ¥ wy Pie & “ ue 4) j 4 ' . i y rit i | ". ' oy eve A we Ue ey Wye ‘ 4 4 -) ; 4, . 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