MASTER NEGATIVE NO. 93-81219- MICROFILMED 1993 COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY LIBRARIES/NEW YORK as part of the "Foundations of Western Civilization Preservation Project" Funded by the NATIONAL ENDOWMENT FOR THE HUMANITIES Reproductions may not be made without permission from Columbia University Library COPYRIGHT STATEMENT The copyright law of the United States - Title 17, United States Code - concerns the nfiaking of photocopies or other reproductions of copyrighted material. Under certain conditions specified in the law, libraries and archives are authorized to furnish a photocopy or other reproduction. One of these specified conditions is that the photocopy or other reproduction is not to be "used for any purpose other than private study, scholarship, or research.** If a user makes a request for, or later uses, a photocopy or reproduction for purposes in excess of '*fair use,** that user may be liable for copyright Infringement. This institution reserves the right to refuse to accept a copy order if, in its judgement, fulfillment of the order would involve violation of the copyright law. A UTHOR: BALZ, ALBERT GEORGE ADAM TITLE: THE BASIS OF SOCIAL THEORY PLACE: NEW YORK DA TE: 1924 COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY LIBRARIES PRESERVATION DEPARTMENT Master Negative # BIBLIOGRAPHIC MICROFORM TARHKT 1' SOI. 03 B21 Re Original Material as Filmed - Existing Bibliographic Record M*«aMW(kaia»<«MaMM4|fa^Hai^ha •W%V'MM^MMi -' r Balz, Albert George Adam, 1887- 1957 The basis of social theory, by Albert G. A. Balz ... with the collaboration of William S. A. Pott ... New York, A. A, Knopf, 1924. XXX. 252 p. lOa**. 3. Social psychology. i.^ott. William Sumner Appleton. 1803- n. Title. III. Jitle : Social theory. The bajij oP; (Continued on next card]^4_^979 Library of Congress (. ] HM251.B43 y ia43Jl, r D150 B21 Dl^SO" Balz, Albert George Adam, 1887- 1957 The basis of social theory, 1924. (Card 2) Copy in Butler. 1924. — Coxy i Pr-^rnardi — 1924 • Bai- DgOl . 01 - -Go^ in B ur gage _T^21 — \J «0// -^ % f THE LIBRARIES LIBRARY OF PHILOSOPHY '1 THE BASIS OF SOCIAL THEORY Some BORZOI Books SOCIOLOGY AND POUTICAL THEORY Barry Elmtr Bamts PRINCIPLES OF PUBLIC FINANCE Hugh DalUH THE CAPITAL LEVY EXPLAINED Hugh Dalun ESSAYS IN ECONOMIC THEORY 5im»n Ntinn PatUn THE BASIS OF SOCIAL THEORY AUtrt G. A. Balx THE TREND OF ECONOMICS Varituj Writtrs POLITICS AND PROGRESS Ramst^ Muir STABILISATION M, M. E. Lltfd THE BASIS OF SOCIAL THEORY i. BY ALBERT G. A. BALZ University of Virginia With the collaboration of WILLIAM S. A. POTT Univ0rsity •/ Virgimim NEW YORK ALFRED • A • KNOPF mcmxxiv OOFTBZQHT. 1924* BT ALntlD A. XNOPT, ZVO. Published, March, 19fU JpJi 3 4'i&t Bet up, eleetrotyped. and printed by «*« Vail-Ballou Pre$$. Inc.. BinglamUm, N. Y. Paper eupplied b» W. F. Etherinoton A Co , NetD York. Bound by H. Wolff E$tat€. New York. MAirUTACTTTBKI) IN THl UNITID 8TATX8 OF AMXBIOA I \0 o CO N TO ALBERT LEFEVRE PREFATORY NOTE The writing of this book has placed me under many new obligations and has caused me to realize more keenly the weight of older ones. I wish to express my gratitude to Professor Frederick J. E. Woodbridge for his helpful criticism and encouragement. Students of the writings of Professor John Dewey will recognize my heavy indebtedness to him — a debt, like that due to Professor Woodbridge, incurred not only through the medium of publication but also through the class room. In lieu of increasing the number of specific references to Professor Dewey, and particularly be- cause so much of what I have written has been in- fluenced by the more direct contact with his thought, this general acknowledgment is tendered. The assist- ance of my colleague, Professor William S. A. Pott, has been of so high an order that the recognition, on the title-page, of his collaboration is a matter of simple justice, most cheerfully rendered. And finally, I have ventured to inscribe Professor Albert Lefevre's name upon the dedicatory page in order that an unpayable debt, constantly increasing during many years of com- panionship, may not lack acknowledgment. A. G. A. B. University of Virginia October 1, 1923. 4 CONTENTS Introduction I The Field of Social Psychology II Human Nature and Social Forces III Inherited Tendencies and Action V The Function of Capacities VI The Problem of Control XI 3 46 77 IV The Function of Instinctive Tendencies 120 165 208 Index 251 INTRODUCTION The concept of Progress may safely be taken as a characteristic expression, perhaps as the characteristic expression, of the modern mind. The practically uni- versal acceptance of the idea in Western life, and the attitudes of mind and habits of action accompanying its acceptance, make it appear commonplace and axi- omatic. One is apt to forget that this idea, like all ideas, has had a history. The belief or beliefs defined by the idea of Progress are not recognized as a develop- ment that is recent because the idea is not placed in the perspective furnished by the history of mind. And this may be due largely to the fact that it ex- presses so well the mentality of the age. The idea operates mainly in the form of assimiption. The con- victions it signalizes are not commonly subjected to critical examination. The belief in Progress so thoroughly dominates the general mind that reflection upon it requires the objectification of the modern temper. But whether reflected upon or not, and however complex the mentality of the age, the Idea of Progress is its unifying principle. Or, if there be no unifying principle discernible in the present mind, the Idea of Progress is the nearest approximation to such a principle. For indeed minds of every type, of every hue of temperament and aspiration, share the xu 1 Introduction general conviction. Here and there, it is true, the dis- sentient voices of the modern heretics are heard. But even with regard to most of these, what is in question is not so much the possibility of Progress as the availa- bility of existing institutions as vehicles of improve- ment. Many of those who are given to the denuncia- tion of the existing scheme of things, and bid us look back to an earlier age, are in reality seeking to define aims to guide advance. Their inspiration may be in the past, but their hope is in the future. If for the moment progress be taken to signify betterment in some direction, those who are skeptical concerning movements now afoot or dubious concerning improve- ment hitherto, may be said to doubt the present fact of progress, but very seldom do they complete their skep- ticism by doubting the very possibility of progress. Even those who devise Utopias and thereby reveal their dissatisfaction with the existing order express the impact of the new faith by the dynamic character of Utopia itself. The movement from an existent situa- tion to a static Utopia is not the content of the Idea of Progress. A static system, however ideal, and how- ever remote in its ideality, cannot be assumed without risk of paradox as the definition of Progress. This, indeed, would be the secular translation of the Millen- nial Idea. Utopia, as an expression of the belief in Progress, tends to be dynamically conceived: in Uto- pia itself there will be Progress. This means that Utopia becomes an anticipatory representation of re- mote stages in the process called Progress. Introduction xiii The protesting voices frequently complete their in- ^ dictment of the present by bidding us return to the j/ Greek scheme of life and thought, to study the thir- teenth century for inspiration, or finally, with revolu- tionary intent, to sweep away the characteristic insti- tutions of the present in order to install a new system. It is precisely in these disparagements and indict- ments that the modern mind furnishes one exposition of its central theme. The riot, the insurrection, the reform wave, the mordant criticism of existing insti- tutions, the exaltation of a hallowed past or the con- struction of Utopias — these are not discoveries of modernity. But it is only in the modern world that such things function as elements in a sustained effort to realize a program, as impetus in the redirection of an evolutionary process. Their motivation at least is new. Decidedly, the outstanding conflicts of ideas and efforts in the present do not concern the reality or possibility of Progress, nor even its criteria, but rather concern the methods by which Progress shall be realized. The mentality that defines itself in the notion of Progress is the mentality of a society that is conscious of its own dynamic quality; and its ideal of Progress therefore expresses even for many a skeptic not so much the sense of defeat and impotence as the sense of power and success. It is not the purpose of this introduction to attempt a definition of the Idea of Progress. But it may prove helpful to consider briefly what a recent student of the history of the idea has to say of it. Bury states xiv Introduction that the idea of human Progress is "a theory which involves a synthesis of the past and a prophecy of the future. It is based on an interpretation of his- tory which regards men as slowly advancing ... in a definite and desirable direction, and infers that this progress will continue indefinitely. And it implies that ... a condition of general happiness will ulti- mately be enjoyed, which will justify the whole process of civilization. There is also a further implication. The process must be the necessary outcome of the psychical and social nature of man; it must not be at the mercy of any external will; otherwise there would be no guarantee of its continuance and its issue, and the idea of Progress would lapse into the idea of Providence." ^' He adds that, "as time is the very condition of the possibility of Progress, it is ob- vious that the idea would be valueless if there were any cogent reasons for supposing that the time at the dis- posal of humanity is Ukely to reach a limit in the near future." ^ It is, however, "impossible to be sure that civilization is moving in the right direction." * And even if the probability of this is admitted. Bury adds, it cannot be demonstrated that "ultimate attainment depends entirely on the human will." "There is nothing to show that he (man) may not reach, in his physical and social development, a stage in which the conditions of his life will be still far from satisfactory, ifiury, The Idea of Progress, Macmillan, 1921, p. 5. 2 Ibid. ^ Ibid., p. 2. Introduction xv and beyond which he will find it impossible to pro- gress." * Accordingly belief in the idea of Progress, Bury concludes, is an act of faith. Now the distinguishing characteristic of modern society is that it has this faith. Whether Progress be "real" or not, at all events the belief that Progress has been made and that there is a real possibility of more to be made, is a genuine and undeniable fact. This conviction, underlying the social movements of the world, is a force of such magnitude that a tech- nique of its control is a bitter necessity. In a social life so dynamic as ours, change is taken as natural, fixity as unnatural. And every change, because it is a change, is likely to be baptized as "progress." Prog- ress means change — and when the belief in Progress is a settled conviction, it is only too easy to regard the proposition as equivalent to this, that any change is Progress. Anything may receive a hearing if it be declared progressive; and anything may be condemned if it be declared unprogressive. This situation defines a peculiar problem. The more intense the belief in Progress, the more the belief becomes productive of changes, of efforts towards betterment. The idea could become the conviction of a dynamic society alone. But accepted by a dynamic society, it in- tensifies that society's dynamic character. Whether or not Progress be real, the conviction facilitates the opening of new channels of effort and the entertaining of new ideas. And this intensity and variety of * Ibid., pp. 3, 4. xvi Introduction effort, the creation of more and more opportunities for novelty of effort and aim, since they increase the com- plexity of life and its conditions, increase the diffi- culties of discovering the changes that really promise amelioration. Thus the idea of Progress leads to a situation in which Progress itself depends on the attainment of a clear definition of this very idea, and creates, as the prime condition of Progress, a demand for a technique for controlling forces and guiding change. In this way the idea of Progress, in defining a problematical aim at once human and social, defines simultaneously a problem of social engineering and con- trol. The modern faith in Progress implies confidence in the efficiency of effort and trust in the capacities of human nature; it involves both the acceptance of the Baconian assertion that knowledge is power and the belief that men are or may become sufficiently wise in the use of that power to secure the gradual convergence of forces in the direction of human welfare. There is a two-fold faith in this. On the one hand, reliance upon human exertions is manifest. To the exponent of Progress, the gods help those, indeed, who help them- selves. On the other hand, there is confidence in the capacity of men to discover in what human welfare consists. Hence the movement of intelligence oscil- lates between the two aspects of this faith. Mind must discover the means to welfare. But it must dis- cover in addition the content of welfare. Without the first the aims of Progress are unrealizable. Without xvii Introduction the second Progress can have no concrete content. The recognition and evaluation of the instruments to welfare depend upon specific aims, just as the selec- tion of relevant aims will depend upon the investiga- tion of what, in nature and in man, is available as means. The Baconian dictum, therefore, cuts two ways: it is at once a problem and a solution. The wise use of the power released by knowledge re- flects an ethical and social problem. The success of the natural sciences has given to man a mastery over the material conditions of life that in earlier ages was unimaginable. So impressive have been the achieve- ments of natural science that the expectations of the imscientific outstrip the scientists' sober estimate of probabilities. Man's cumulative mastery of his physi- cal environment is regarded as a mere matter of ob- servation. It has engendered in the average man of the Occident expressive and historically novel atti- tudes. It is noteworthy that many occurrences, such as famines, epidemics, floods, widespread social evils, and the like are not accepted with fatalistic resignation in Western civilization. They are viewed, to be sure, as in one sense natural, as a part of the business of life. But on the other hand they are not regarded as natural in the sense that they must be accepted as facts. The mental attitudes that such events call forth are not attitudes of resignation, of humility and stoical endurance. The fear and horror that catas- trophes evoke are transmuted into impatience over their occurrence and a refusal to recognize their inevi- xviii Introduction tability. The recounting of the evils of life produces, not fatalistic acceptance, but a rebellious and bellicose reaction. The ills that beset life, whether catastrophic or not, are regarded as preventable, as controllable if not yet controlled. They are problems that, in prin- \ ciple, are within the scope of human powers. Passive acceptance is regarded as inhuman, degrading, "un- progressive." Mind is stimulated, not chastened, in the face of calamity. This attitude of mind, whose novelty in the history of man we are not apt to recognize, bears eloquent testimony to the belief in Progress and the efficacy of knowledge. But this very success in the mastery of the physical environment is itself the source of vast social problems. The con- trol of nature defines a problem of the control of this very power released by the mastery of nature. For the bare mastery of natural forces is in itself a matter of indifference. In and by itself it furnishes no guarantee of wisdom in the use of power. The mas- tery of enormous quantities of power may lead to use or mis-use. The believer in Progress must therefore believe not only that power will come with knowledge, but also that wisdom in the use of this power may likewise come with increase of knowledge. Faith in Progress is doubly faith in man. There is, of course, another side to the picture of the successive triumphs in the mastery of nature. In many quarters warning voices are heard. We are told that the changes effected by the application of science have brought with them new miseries in the place of Introduction xix the old ones. The development of science has brought a new industrial order. The mechanization of indus- try and of life generally, it is said, threatens to destroy all "higher values." Science has intensified, rather than mitigated, the horrors of poverty, the evils of economic and social inequality, and the tragedies of war. Its monstrous offspring, modern industry, it is urged, does not assure enjoyment, contentment, peace, but breeds worry and discontent, artificial needs and unreal satisfactions; it breeds hate and war between class and class, between nation and nation. The machine has mechanized man. It is unnecessary to specify the charges in detail. Taken altogether the indictment amounts to the contention that our boasted progress is merely "material progress." It is the form of progress defined by the identification of quantitative increase with improvement. This one- sided progress, the skeptic admits, is obviously a mat- ter of fact. Medicine and surgery, for example, have done much for the relief of the tortures of disease and injury in our animal bodies. But they have accom- plished nothing for the human soul. In the modern Western world there is greater wealth and more food, less suffering from heat and cold; and the multiplica- tion of the conveniences of life is striking. All this the skeptic concedes. But he adds that such forms of "progress" refer only to the material conditions of life — and that the things of mind and soul are threat- ened rather than furnished security and encourage- ment. Art, religion, morals, and "spiritual" things XX Introduction generally, everything that, in sum, is part of the higher life, are being made continually less at home in a world whose cardinal dogma is the Baconian dic- tum. In the field of matter all that the prophets of modernity have predicted has been abundantly real- ized; but with respect to the things of the spirit, with respect to beauty and holiness, their prophecies have been vain. Civilization is not to be measured by physi- cal comfort. It is beside present purposes to inquire concerning what might be advanced to counterbalance these at- tacks. ^ Until we come into possession of a common denominator for all the phenomena of nature and life and for all the variations in human valuations, the critic and the skeptic cannot be silenced. There is no termination, by cancellation of arguments, for the debate between those who admit "material progress" while they assert retrogression in "spiritual" matters and those who point to "material progress" as the evi- dence that everything as a whole is getting better. That which is of interest for present purposes resides in the unanalyzed assumptions and uncritical attitudes expressed in the attacks and counter-attacks of our modern dogmatists and skeptics. For the notion of Progress and, in consequence, social action suffer from various obscurations. These may be due, in part, to the difficulties inherent in the task that intelligence . confronts. But in part these uncleamesses that be- wilder our minds and misguide action are due to as- sumptions the doubtful, character of which is unno- Introduction xxi ticed. Of these unrecognized assumptions the most dangerous is expressed in the dualistic tendency in-| volved in the distinction between "material" anq "spiritual" Progress, between improvements in the so-| i called material side of affairs and advance within the sphere defined by ideal interests, by religion, morals, « and art. Once this dualism has been permitted to fix the terms of discourse, the way has been opened for the divorcing of means and ends, for the unholy com- bination of a program of continual reconstruction in the field of material conditions with a plan for the main- tenance of an indurated system of inherited ideals in the field of higher interests. The result is that ideals, fanciful because they are generated by a revolting imagination out of touch with the circumstantial con- ditions of an efifective career, cannot find embodiment and fruitage in the world of action. It seems clear that Progress, if there be Progress at all, is not neces- sarily uniform in every field of human interest. The advance in one field may be rapid and create con- flicts with the state of things in another. Progress in- volves growing pains. But to dichotomize the situa- tion into things material and things ideal is to stultify intelligence. It is difficult to see how something that is purely ideal can conflict with material processes. It is only when the idea of the spiritual value is em- bodied in action and is operative as a material factor that conflict can arise. Material process may conflict with material process; or, for reflection, the meaning and ideal significance of the one may be found incon- 11! xxii Mi Hi III ii Introduction sistent with that of the other. Processes in the in- dustrial and economic sphere may oppose, impede and thwart activities and intended changes in the struc- ture of things where the latter are motivated, for example, by aesthetic ideals of an earlier age or by new ideals unrelated to the totality of the existing scheme of life. But ideas and ideals are on both sides of the struggle; and on each side they give direc- tion to material processes. What Dewey has written concerning the moral conse- quences of "the separation of present activities and future 'ends' from each other" may here be used in illustration. The difficulty of the problem, he writes, is "the tax placed by it (the separation) upon thought and good will." "For the professed idealist and the hard-headed materialist or 'practical' man, have con- spired together to sustain this situation. The idealist sets up as the ideal not fullness of meaning of the present but a remote goal. Hence the present is evac- uated of meaning. It is reduced to being a mere ex- ternal instrument, an evil necessity due to the distance between us and significant valid satisfaction. Appre- ciation, joy, peace in present activity are suspect. They are regarded as diversions, temptations, unworthy relaxations. Then since human nature must have present realization, a sentimental, romantic enjoyment of the ideal becomes a substitute for intelligent and rewarding activity. . . . Meantime the practical man wants something definite, tangible, and presumably obtainable for which to work. ... Yet his activity is Introduction xxiii impractical. He is looking for satisfaction somewhere else than where it can be found. In his Utopian search for a future good he neglects the only place where good can be found. He empties present activity of meaning by making it a mere instrumentality. When the future arrives it is only after all another despised pres- ent. By habit as well as by definition it is still a means to something which has yet to come. Again human nature must have its claim satisfied, and sen- suality is the inevitable recourse. Usually a compro- mise is worked out, by which a man for his working- hours accepts the philosophy of activity for some future result, while at odd leisure times he enters by conventionally recognized channels upon an enjoyment of 'spiritual' blessings and 'ideal' refinements. The problem of serving God and Mammon is thus solved." ^ This separation of means and ends, the practical and theoretical, the existent and the ideal, the material and the spiritual, where these pairings are equated or in various ways confused, produces various alignments. Impressed by so-called material progress, a callous indifference to what are asserted to be spiritual things arises. The result is that the significance of the strains and stresses in existing situations is misinter- preted. Instead of being taken as symptomatic of problems of reconstruction and readjustment, the situa- tion is torn asunder. Two parties arise. The one, as the exponent of achievement, defines the other party as the party of obscurantism, of superstition, of im- ^ Human Nature and Conduct, 1922, pp. 273-5. xxiv Introduction practical ideals. And the latter brand the former as materialists. A morbid aestheticism confronts mock- ery. The professional moralizer and reformer, like the patient that enjoys bad health, enjoys the con- sciousness of martyrdom. The imagination, using some segregated element of the present as a spring- board, leaps into a future economic paradise or finds solace in some idealized past. One and all, devoted to the idea of Progress, preach a gospel of Progress. For some the evidence of Progress is found in the existing order; and future Progress will be assured if only the present is allowed to penetrate the future without undue interference with the institutions and movements surrounding us. Here the tendency is to validate the existing system and find a certain smug satisfaction with things as they are. Progress is attained through the agency of the present objective or- der. Against this position, however, others contend. Progress, to be sure, is possible, but only through inner improvement in the human soul. The problem is re- garded as subjective, internal, personal. If progress has occurred, it is only because men in their inner nature are becoming better. The inward life may ad- vance independently of material processes. It is un- necessary to specify how varied are these attitudes, and how variously they combine. As was stated before, despite the varieties of opinion there is a common ground of faith. The real problem that is indicated by the confused reactions briefly alluded to above is found in this, that the advance of knowledge has been Introduction xxv unequal. In assured results, in the possibilities of active control, the sciences of nature, so-called, sur- pass the sciences of life and man. It is a common- place to state that the sciences of man and society have lagged behind the sciences of nature. It is precisely when we clarify the problem by rejecting the dicho- tomies of means and ends, of the material and the spir- itual, that we reach a position in which the significance of the oppositions which are expressed in these terms becomes clear. For the control of circumstances is one-sided and abstract, thought of as just instrumental and material, because our knowledge is one-sided. It is not that physics and chemistry deal with matter while the sciences of man and society deal with a subject-matter of a wholly different sort, with spirit or mind. Knowledge furnishes ability to comprehend ex- isting factors, to foresee consequences and thereby to control the future by operating within the present. But in so far as knowledge concerning man and society is lacking, to that extent control through foresight is abstract and inadequate because only a portion of the consequences of present action enters as a factor in the constructions of intelligence. The possession of vast resources of power through natural science and invention coupled with a comparatively meager knowl- edge of life, human nature and society means, on the one hand, that the use of power is haphazard, insuffi- ciently guided, subject to whim, prejudice, preposses- sion, and doctrinaire ideals; and on the other hand, it means that many of the so-called "higher" interests of ^xvi Introduction life suffer from opposition, neglect, or isolation. It is apparent therefore that what is lacking is a science of human nature as well established as the sciences of nature. The fact that the social sciences are back- ward as compared with the natural sciences is in part due to the complexity of the subject-matter of the for- mer (or rather to the greater difficulty in abstractly de- fining this or that aspect), the inability to investigate experimentally, and correlative difficulties. But in large measure this condition is due to the absence of an adequate foundation. This necessary foundation can be found only in man himself. Knowledge of human nature is the indispensable basis for every social science. The satisfactory organization of human life, m any of its aspects, must ultimately depend on the attainment of a scientific knowledge of man. A false notion of human nature means a parody, and a plan of action founded upon a parody is false in theory and irrelevant or even dangerous in practice. Human nature has thus far been "known" too largely in the form of maxims, saws, proverbs, literary portraiture, hasty generalizations from personal experience or his- tory. Modern psychology (as will appear in the sequel) has been curiously remote from the require- ments of social life. It has been more interested in the mechanism of habit, memory, perception, and the like, than m the study of human nature in the concrete sense, in the sources and development of conduct, and the history of its motivation. Human nature, mean- while, has been considered in the light of a priori no- Introduction xxvii tions, grounded in historical moral, social, and reli- gious attitudes and conditions. It has been the sub- ject of haphazard generalization or special plead- ing, of cynicism or poetic idealization, rather than of scientific investigation. Dewey has stated that "We need a permeation of judgments on conduct by the method and materials of a science of human nature. Without such enlightenment even the best-intentioned attempts at the moral guidance and improvement of others often eventuate in tragedies of misunderstanding and division. . . . The development therefore of a more adequate science of human nature is a matter of first-rate importance. The present revolt against the notion that psychology is a science of conscious- ness may well turn out in the future to be the begin- ning of a definitive turn in thought and action." • Without such a science of human nature it is not sur- prising that the plans of the reformers and the con- structions of the theorists have been so impractical. They have been either so ideally abstract in their re- moteness from concrete conditions that they could serve for little more than to voice aspiration, or else they have been rooted in some single fact or aspect of human nature so that in their exclusive particularity they have been dangerous in practice. With reference therefore to the problem of Progress the proposition that is involved here is that the control of human affairs — the possibility of genuine Progress, if Progress at all be real — depends upon che attain- * Human Nature and Conduct, pp. 321-2. •tl ill xxviii Introduction ment of a more adequate body of social science, and that the first condition of this attainment is the develop- ment of a more adequate science of human nature. A recent expositor of Greek Political Thought has the following to say: "The Greeks, in their political think- ing, were essentially realists, rather than idealists. . . . They were realists in that they based their political studies on the world as it is and human nature as it is, rather than on some personal and fanciful conception of what man and the world ought to be. To put it in other words, they are realists because they are psychologists, because they applied the psychological method to political problems. That they were the first to do so goes without saying. . . . But they did it so perfectly, with such utter and artistic simplicity, that those who followed them accepted or criticized their results without observing the basis of human study on which they were built up, and it is only in quite recent years, through the work of patient in- quirers who, like Graham Wallas, have laboured syste- matically in both fields, that politics and psychology have once more been drawn together. ... It may seem strange to a modern reader to be told that, in this very important respect, Thucydides, Plato, and Aristotle are sounder in their method than the whole long line of political thinkers and statesmen up to our own day. Let the reader who doubts it turn to the texts. He will find that all the three writers whom I have named toiled at the study of human nature. . . . Turn now to the moderns. Where in Hobbes or in Introduction xxix Bentham, in Locke or Burke or Rousseau, in the In- dividualists or the Socialists, the Hegelians or the anarchists, do we find, until quite recently, a really wide and open-minded attempt to see man as he is? Our ears are assailed by a chorus of catchwords, based on some arbitrary and ephemeral estimate of men's reactions to outward events and institutions. . . . We need the simplicity, or cynicism, of the Greeks to recall us to realities."^ It is about this study of human nature that the practical problem of progress gravitates. The problem, in its scientific and practi- cal interest, as distinguished from the metaphysical interest in the question of the reality of Progress, and in its urgency for a dynamic society committed to belief in indefinite betterment, is the problem of as- suring an increasingly rational and enlightened con- trol of social processes. It must be the practical goal of the social sciences to provide the means of control- ling the forces of life and mind on a scale comparable to that mastery of nature supplied by the sciences of nature. The social sciences, however, must turn to an adequate Social Psychology as the basis of sound social theory. It may well be that, as Protagoras asserted, man is the measure of all things — but what, precisely, is the nature of the measure? It is hardly necessary to warn the reader that the chapters that follow do not pretend to furnish that science of human nature the need of which has been "^The Legacy of Greece, ed. by R. W. Livingstone, 1922. Article "Political Thought," by A. E. Zimmem, pp. 336-8. XXX Introduction indicated. The book expresses a certain standpoint with respect to the nature of Social Psychology and its relation to Psychology in general. It seeks to outline an approach to Social Psychology and to examine a number of conceptions that seem fundamental to the subject as outlined. For this approach no claim could be made to originality of materials. Its purpose is rather to utilize existing materials in order to present an organization of ideas that may be suggestive in current discussion. In so far as the effort to define a point of view may serve as a stimulus, whether by way of agreement or of disagreement, to advance in the field suggested, that effort will have achieved all that could be hoped of it. ^ THE BASIS OF SOCIAL THEORY i#j :i The Field of Social Psychology It has been said that the problem of determining what psychology is about, that is, its subject-matter, its field, its methods, is the problem concerning which psychologists are least in agreement. It is significant that something in the shape of an orthodox tradition in psychology is recognized. And there are movements within the science commonly regarded as extreme and as in conscious reaction against the more orthodox conceptions. There are many historical reasons for the peculiarly unsettled character of current psycho- logical thought. It would require an extended treatise to set forth these historical grounds in detail. In this chapter, accordingly, brief references to the historical background must suffice, as the chief interest of what follows relates to existing ambiguities. It is far too much to hope that the views here presented will solve the vexatious problems concerning the province of psy- chology and of the relation of Social Psychology to psychology in general, and in its special forms. We cannot resist the belief, however, that the develop- ment of psychology will be assisted by efforts to define subject-matter and standpoint, whether or not such 3 4 The Basis of Social Theory efforts command the assent of the specialists in the subject. The exposition of an erroneous view may sometimes be clarifying. This attempt at definition is especially promising within the sphere of what may be described as the aim to utilize psychology in the interests of the social sciences. This reference to psy- chology from such a quarter indicates both a theoretical and a practical concern. The prevailing uncertainties concerning the nature of psychology, however, are re- flected in uncertainties with respect to the bearings of psychology upon social theory and upon social practice. The conviction that psychology should be of value for the study of social phenomena and for the guidance of social action has a tendency to lead to hasty generali- zation and to breed somewhat extravagant hopes. Psycho-analysis becomes an intellectual fad. Recent controversies concerning mental tests and their value in practice afford an additional illustration. Finally, there are signs here and there of some disillusionment as to the value of psychological doctrine for theory and practice. In some measure these are the results of ambiguities and conflicts within the body of psycho- logical theories and investigations. These considera- tions bear with particular force upon the problem of Social Psychology. What is Social Psychology? What is its subject- matter? What is the relation of Social Psychology to Psychology in general and to such branches as Physio- logical Psychology? To put the question differently, what is the significance of the adjective ^sociaP in The Field of Social Psychology S this connection? Is Social Psychology a derivative from something more fundamental or is it one of sev- eral applied forms of Psychology? Is Social Psychol- ogy merely a synonym for Psychological Sociology? Social Psychology and Psychology The term "Social Psychology" has come into cur- rent usage within recent decades, and the number of works bearing the expression as title or sub-title is comparatively small. It is significant for the purpose in hand to note that many of the relevant works are concerned mainly with the clarification of sociological problems by attempted utilization of the principles of so-called general psychology. Gabriel Tarde, some- times dubbed the father of Social Psychology, placed as sub-title for his Laws of Imitation the words ''Etude Sociologique." Such considerations suggest that the subject arose under sociological auspices, and that these investigations represent the sociologist's pursuit of sociology by means of psychological principles simply taken over from the general body of psycho- logical doctrine rather than a special psychological in- quiry arising from a predominantly psychological interest. Social Psychology as illustrated, for ex- ample, in the work of Tarde or in Ross's Social Psy- chology might be called, indifferently, either Psycho- logical Sociology or Sociological Psychology. Such works fall between psychology on the one hand and sociology on the other, without effecting an organic li 6 The Basis of Social Theory connection with either field. One might judge from such examples that Social Psychology has been in point of fact largely a matter of psychology turned upon data and problems developed by sociology or else the results of the sociologist's discovery of the possible utility of such psychological principles as suggestion, imitation, habit and the like within the field of sociology. The Historical Background In so far as this accurately indicates the origin of the historical movement leading to the emergence of an ill-defined science of Social Psychology, the conten- tion that the field of the science is badly in need of definition receives additional reinforcement. For if, and in so far as, Social Psychology develops under such influences and auspices it tends to preserve within itself the traces of the conflicting themes in the pscho- logical tradition. It is desirable, therefore, to make brief reference to the various lines of historical in- fluence, explicitly or implicitly antagonistic to one another, that are responsible in the main for the un- certainties of the psychologists as to the nature of their subject. The first of these currents of influence stems from a metaphysical doctrine, the dualistic doc- trine of man as consisting of two equipollent sub- stances, body and soul. The material substance and the spiritual substance are mysteriously conjoined al- though at the same time radically distinct, radically The Field of Social Psychology 7 different, and in principle separate. The details of the doctrine cannot here be treated nor can we set forth the process whereby the metaphysical principle affected the development of psychology, with all the epistemological complications. The influence, how- ever, can hardly be denied. And the drift of that influence is easily discernible. For the dualistic con- ception of man virtually implied the notion of an isolated, independent soul to be practically identified with mind or consciousness. The relation of this isolated soul to man's animal body had been a difficult problem. To disconnect the human mind or con- sciousness so thoroughly from the animal body was to make tenuous his connection with the whole of nature. This is illustrated by the Cartesian view that regarded animals as sheer automata, not possessing the rational soul substance. Humanity is thus sharply divorced from the remainder of animate nature. With the wan- ing of the substance idea, the problem, especially as it affected psychology, is somewhat transformed. If the soul-substance, the mind, consciousness, and the self are at bottom identical. Psychology in the limited sense of the term must be concerned with what goes on in that soul substance. To give up the idea of the sub- stantial soul leaves at least the notion of a special type or realm of fact, a distinct kind of existence, with which psychology is concerned. Thus the psychical receives definition in contradistinction to the material, the bodily and physiological. The isolation of the soul-substance is translated into the inaccessibility and !il !!« 8 The Basis of Social Theory unique character of the mental state, or psychological process, or psychical event. Descartes' dualism, re- flecting the impetus of natural science, had the effect of revealing the whole of nature, the inanimate, the animate, and even the human body, as constituting one system possessing common denominators for its various parts in the basic categories of physical science. For the whole system was the sphere of material substance. And as the immaterial soul-substance was wholly excluded in principle from this system, physical nature was swept clean of the cobwebs of scholasticism and anthropomorphism. Thought and will and imagination, divorced from na- ture, found their habitat in another order of being. Thus they escaped reduction to the mechanism of the physical world. Nature, deprived of that which a Greek might have regarded as its fairest product, must be viewed in turn by mind as something foreign and strange. And if the dualism assures mind of its impregnable position, is this not secured only by im- muring mind in a cloistered retreat? Psychological investigation, on such a basis, must penetrate an inner and inward realm. Hence the Cartesian school faced the problem of rendering metaphysically in- telligible the doctrine that man, although one, was a unity of two disparate substances. In the course of time the psychological problem takes the form of relating the train of neurological and physiological events to the train of psychical states. In this way psychology tends to be confined to the special realm of The Field of Social Psychology 9 psychical processes as its subject-matter and of neces- sity to introspection as its method. The advance of physiology and neurology, however, placed an important pressure upon psychology. How- ever inaccessible the psychical, the physical was ac- cessible and seemed to promise much for the study of the psychical. Just what the study of man's animal body can do for the study of the psychical and how it can do it, we are not now concerned with. It is simply a matter of fact that psychologists have been and are mightily concerned with physiology and neu- rology and that books on the subject of Physiological Psychology exist. Without considering parallelism, interactionism, and the rest, it is evident that the ref- erence to physiology and neurology amounts to an ef- fort to relate the human being as psychological to the residue of nature. The development of biology and the emergence of genetic and evolutionary conceptions have reinforced this reference. The divorce of man from the animals, of mind and consciousness from nature, which constituted one current of influence in the growth of modern psychology, is opposed by the antagonistic tendency that would reunite the sundered pair. There is a third factor whose after-effects are more difficult to trace, especially in the present situation, while they were particularly apparent in physiology, in the associational psychology, and in political and ethical thought. This factor is what Gibson has called the "mechanical schema" of thought. Gibson states Ilii Ml 10 The Basis of Social Theory that "For thinkers of the seventeenth century, to whom all ideas of development were entirely foreign, the place which is now filled by the conception of e'volu- tion was occupied by the idea of composition, with the implied distinction between the simple and the com- plex. A complex whole being regarded as the mere sum of its constituent parts, these latter were not thought to undergo any modification as the result of their combination; similarly, the whole was supposed to be directly resolvable into its parts without remain- der. The whole temporal process containing noth- ing but different combinations of the same simples, out of which nothing genuinely new could emerge, the his- torical point of view from which we trace develop- ment in time, and seek to comprehend the new deter- minations which arise in its course, was without sig- nificance." ^ This idea of composition must have been influential in breaking up the notion of the unitary soul substance. Again, given the notion of the isolated atomic individual, partly suggested by the body-soul doctrine and partly suggested by the in- dividualism of the early modern period, the mechanical schema of thought would be peculiarly suited for the treatment of social and political problems where the unit is the atomic individual and aggregation is to be explained. Even in the midst of the changes effected by evolutionary conceptions, this factor has been di- rectly operative. The conjoint effects of the currents of influence i Gibson, Locke's Theory of Knowledge, Cambridge, 1917, p. 47. The Field of Social Psychology 11 just summarized may be discerned in the uncertainties of present-day psychology, and in the shape taken by Social Psychology as it emerged from sociology. The difficulties inherent in general psychological doctrine are transported into the field of psychological sociology. In so far as the tradition of the atomic individual per- sisted in social thinking, although largely unrecognized, just so far the psychological notion of the segregated consciousness as constituting the subject-matter of psychology would seem to facilitate the utilization of psychological theory. The sociologist faced the prob- lem of getting the social group constituted with isolated consciousnesses, "islands of consciousness," as the units of composition. The principles of psychology pertained to a special kind of existence called psy- chical. They could hardly be of help unless socio- logical subject-matter also was essentially psychical. At the same time neurology furnished psychology with explanations of many psychological processes — so that after all psychology appeared to be not as exclusively concerned with the psychical region as might be sup- posed. Emphasizing one side, the data of sociology tend to be taken as psychical, and the applicability of psychological principles should be easy. On the other hand, genetic and evolutionary conceptions, giving a different perspective, seem to make traditional psycho- logical notions curiously remote from the study of society. If the starting-point for the sociologist be the individual consciousness, the cardinal problem will be that of comprehending the principles which bring *inBV"«' 12 The Basis of Social Theory these isolated units into the unity of the group. On the other hand, if the point of departure be the group, the problem is one of effecting a transition from the group and its constitutive principles to the constitu- ent units taken in abstraction from the group. Social Psychology thus appears as the explanation of the one movement and of its reverse: the self-contained micro- cosms of psychology are to be identified with the units of composition. The social group, and group life, are somehow psychological facts, for they are human facts. Psychological facts, moreover, are psychical, mental, or conscious facts. But industrial relations, political associations, institutions, and similar phe- nomena, do not appear to be particularly mental or psychical where the latter terms imply a peculiar kind of insulated mind-stuff. The interval between the human being's psychical processes and the human being's body tends to parallel the interval between the individual member of society and society as the group. But within the field of psychology are found principles, such as suggestion and imitation, with a biological history and a neurological explanation, and these principles have no meaning save in the setting of animal group life. Thus psychology on the one hand tends to pulverize society into individual conscious- nesses, and at the same time it presents cementing forces linking, if not consciousnesses, at least human beings one to another. The individual unit being given, the influences of group life and human associations upon the unit are The Field of Social Psychology 13 to be explained by psychological principles. Thus Gabriel Tarde hit upon suggestion and imitation as the principles of social agglutination and the explana- tion of its effects on the individual. Wherever there is society, there we find a great deal of sameness, of repetition and uniformity. Society, however, is com- posed of individuals, and no two individuals are alike; and yet all members of a group are somehow alike. This suggests the line of demarcation between psy- chology as such and sociology upon a psychological basis. Psychology in the proper sense of the term has for its subject-matter the individuaFs psychological processes. Sociology may take as its field the group and the relations of individuals in groups. For Tarde the fundamental facts of sociology reside in inter- individual psychology, or inter-cerebral psychology, not in individual or intra-cerebral psychology. Within the province of social science the outstanding fact is repetition — institutions, customs, and the like are at bottom reducible to the fact that many are acting in the same way. The social life is fundamentally regu- lar, and this means repetition. But repetition means the repetition of innovation, and to the individual must be assigned the role of innovator. The variations of individuals are communicated by suggestion and propagated by imitation. Every individual, on the other hand, is a center upon which the waves of imita- tion impinge. Innovation leads to imitation, and so to repetition; but innovations are many and are not always in harmony with one another. Hence the 14 The Basis of Social Theory waves may not reinforce one another, but in their continual interaction may vary from one extreme of felicitous combination to the other of complete antag- onism. The individual is the locus where reinforce- ments and oppositions reveal their significance in the union or conflict of ideas and the convergences or di- vergences of desire. Thus we have as many indepen- dent centers of origination as there are conscious- nesses — or brains. And society is essentially what happens when these brains interact. Translated into different terms, society becomes, so to speak, the sys- tem of psychical waves propagated from many centers. This example is sufficient to indicate how difficult it is to determine what Social Psychology is when we seek to infer its nature from some of the documents under that name. If Social Psychology (in the sense of psychological sociology) is concerned with inter- cerebral and inter-individual relations, what relation has it to the psychology of the individual conscious- ness? And is the individual whose relations to others form the subject-matter of Social Psychology identical with the individual consciousness (or cerebrum) as- signed to psychology proper? And how are the phe- nomena of the individual consciousness, his psychical states or his cerebral processes, related to Uie inter- individual relations constituting the content of social psychology or psychological sociology? And how, again, are the inter-individual relations connected with such social facts as, let us say, a labor union, the The Field of Social Psychology IS institution of marriage or the Church? If society is a psychical fact, what bearing upon it has so thor- oughly physiological a principle as suggestion and imitation? And if it is not a psychical fact, do psy- chological, as distinct from neurological principles, apply to it? The sociologist and political scientist, turning for assistance to a psychology conserving the after-effects of the metaphysical principle of dual ex- istence, must face the consequences inherent in the psychological principles they are to apply. They must (a) define the subject-matter as psychical or made up of the stuff of consciousness and (b) assume that this subject-matter is the resultant of psychic in- teractions. In this case the need of an over-soul or super-individual group-mind as a S5mthetic principle seems clear. On the other hand, if they refuse to de- fine the subject-matter in terms of the duality of the physical and the psychical, they cannot avoid im- porting the distinction into their treatments of the facts in so far as a psychology resting upon the duality is utilized for purposes of explanation. To pass from individual consciousnesses to the group is possible, in these terms, by only two routes: in the one case by positing a super-individual consciousness or psy- chical principle; in the other, by way of the physical media, such as nervous systems, bodies and their actions, and stimuli. But in this latter case there must be some implicit assumption concerning the re- lation of the psychical and the physical. In short, if ! , .: ! 16 The Basis of Social Theory psychology and the social sciences are to be mutually helpful, the universe of discourse must be one and the same for all. General Psychology and Behaviorism It is time to turn to the task of finding a more promising conception of Social Psychology. But it is clear that to discuss the field and nature of Social Psychology by reference to psychology or general psychology when the nature of the latter is a matter of lively controversy can hardly be illuminating. And after all is said, any definition of field and rela- tionship must be tentative, hypothetical, a practical de- vice whose consequences will in time provide correc- tion or corroboration. But with this in mind, further discussion of the subject will be facilitated by a brief consideration of the present position of psychology. Previous discussions account for the mixture that is customarily called psychology or general psychology. The terms seem to imply that in psychology or general psychology we have psychology in its primary form, the theoretical point of departure, the first and basic survey of the field. This psychology as found in the text-books relegates the problem of the nature of soul or consciousness, of the relation of mind and body, to metaphysics. But in thus purging itself of the problem it has failed to rid itself of metaphysics. It assumes, explicitly or implicitly, that its subject- matter falls into two portions, or has two aspects, or The Field of Social Psychology 17 can be at least suggestively examined in terms of two sets of ideas. The parts, aspects, or sets referred to depend upon and conserve in greater or less clarity the terminological apparatus of the body-mind problem and of various hypotheses connected with its history. The terms ^consciousness,' 'mind,' 'mental,' 'interac- tions' and the like may be used in all innocence of intent; but they nevertheless retain the flavor of the tradition. Other terms, 'stimulus and response,' 're- flexes' and 'nerve arcs,' 'adjustment,' and similar ex- pressions indicate the impact of biological and physi- ological science. So the reader vibrates between con- sciousness and the nervous system, ideas and nerve- currents, emotions and glandular secretions. Two attitudes towards the situation so defined may be discerned. By one party it is claimed, in effect, that the uncertainties due to these contrasts are not artifi- cial, that they are not imported into the subject-matter, but that they arise from the subject-matter itself. The inscrutability of the facts is responsible for the two universes of discourse. The historical influence of the body-mind problem, the dualistic doctrine, and their consequences upon the determination of psycho- logical subject-matter and conceptions are justified by the facts. To these statements a pertinent reply is that if these claims be valid, then psychology has not relegated the body-mind problem to the meta- physician, and that, moreover, psychology cannot ab- stract from the question. On the other hand, there seems to be a group of psychologists whose aim may 1 ■): ( 1 1 > t )i ! 18 The Basis of Social Theory be described as that of keeping psychology within a single universe of discourse. They desire to avoid entanglement with the body-mind problem in demarca- ting subject-matter and method, and therefore search for a point of view from which that problem is ir- relevant to research. This re-definition of stand- point is signalized by avoidance of terminology as- sociated with psychology conceived as dealing with the psychical and with consciousness, or with the re- lation of the psychical and the physical. The princi- pal conceptions are to have a connotation in harmony with the standpoint and methods of biology and physi- ology. These statements may not wholly describe the behaviorist movement, but this movement would certainly afford an illustration of the general type of reaction. There exists a plan of work that, in effect, involves the development of a psychology without re- course to consciousness, the psychical, or introspec- tion. There is consistency at any rate in such a pro- gram. Psychology thus becomes "Objective Psy- chology." Undeniably the behavioristic program, whether ex- treme or not, represents a legitimate inquiry, even if the orthodox deny that it is psychology. It would ap- pear that the existence of the inquiry is sufficient evi- dence of its legitimacy. If the unity and simplicity of plan are purchased at the price of the omission of important sets of facts, further inquiry will doubtless provide the corrective. There is assuredly much to be said for the position implied in some forms of the re- The Field of Social Psychology 19 action against the orthodox tradition. This stand- point implies that, if biology, physiology, and neur- ology are to provide the background of psychological investigation, furnish the explanatory basis, and define the affiliations of psychology, then such primarily metaphysical doctrines as parallelism, the double as- pect theory, and the like are unnecessary. These so-called "working h3T50theses" do very little work. Is not their serviceability more fictitious than real? Are they not important because in the development of psychology the body-mind problem affected the definition of the subject-matter rather than because the subject must necessarily be defined in terms of the contrast of the physical and the psychical? It may be asserted that the inquiry is freed of a cardinal diffi- culty if these hypotheses be rejected and the approach developed from the side of biology and physiology. If the objection be advanced that this means a mech- anistic account of behavior, several replies may be made. It may be said that a mechanistic account of behavior is a sufficiently worthy objective. It may further be said that only time can tell whether or not a complete account of behavior can be given in mech- anistic terms. If it cannot, then we may expect to discover the limits of such explanation. If it can, there is nothing to discuss. And finally, the claim may be advanced that this program affiliates psychology with biology and neurology in a way that is frank and uncomplicated rather than surreptitious and sur- rounded with dubious reservations. « !i ; I i 1 r ' / ' ! J 1 ■ ' II I I ' 1 ' ! ! 1 1 , 1 1 i I 1 1 t l! i i ; i i ! ■ 1 ' - 20 The Basis of Social Theory It is obvious, however, that something called con- scious process goes on, that "inner experience" hap- pens, that there is such a fact as consciousness. Mind, intelligence, feeling, desire, willing, and the like are terms that denote something. If an extreme behavioristic program should reject such conceptions, or at least would dispense with them save in so far as they can be given a biological and physiological de- notation and connotation, it still remains true that they must receive additional treatment in some other connection. If consciousness be a fact, and conscious events happen, then presumably there is the possibility of an inquiry into such facts. It does not follow, of course, that such an inqm'ry must preserve all the traits of the older psychology. To this point we shall return later on. We have attempted to indicate the two-fold charac- ter of psychology as ordinarily presented in the text- books,— with a double set of terms, and two subject- matters. General psychology commonly straddles two series of facts, the events defined as psychical and the events defined as bodily. Psychology may be defined in one chapter as dealing with conscious states or psychical processes and in the next chapter the reader discovers a great deal about the nerve arc, the cerebellum and the cerebrum; and the transition is covered by a working hypothesis that does little save express the transition. On the other hand, we may encounter an effort to avoid the difficulties inherent in this situation by the deliberate exclusion of what is The Field of Social Psychology 21 commonly called the psychical and the limitation of inquiry to the behavior process. With this situation before us, we must ask: how is Social Psychology re- lated to Psychology? If Social Psychology be an ap- plication of General Psychology the two-fold charac- ter of the latter will be carried over into the former. Is the field to be defined in terms of the psychical state? Or is it to be approached from an opposed standpoint, that of the neurological basis of explana- tion? Or shall we identify Psychology with Behavior- ism and then view Social Psychology as an application of it? Biology certainly provides much of importance for the student of society, but it is a large assumption to assimilate the body of social phenomena to the subject-matter of biology. Psychology as Behaviorism would undoubtedly contain much of importance for a Social Psychology, but the latter could hardly be an applied form of the other. Social data, whatever they may be, are assuredly more than the mechanism of behavior, although the mechanism of behavior may well be an account of some or all social data from an assigned special point of view. Stimulus and re- sponse, adaptation and adjustment will undoubtedly be found in the terminology of Social Psychology; and the terms 'mind,' 'consciousness,' and the like will also have a place there. In short, Social Psy- chology will require categories other than, and in addi- tion to, those furnished by biology, behavior-psychol- ogy and physiology. But to find these additional categories in a field defined by the body-mind prob- 22 The Basis of Social Theory lem, the dualism of the psychical and the physical, or by the theories and hypotheses promulgated to over- come the dualism, would be to give Social Psychology that hybrid character from which the behavioristic movement takes its protesting departure. The terms *mind/ 'consciousness/ and the like must be taken by Social Psychology as names for problems and not as categories constitutive of its subject-matter. Is Psychology Fundamentally Social Psychology? The question, then, is whether there cannot be an inquiry, for which, in lieu of a better, the name "Social Psychology" may be adopted, which is not an applied psychology, not a derivative of something else; a science, that is to say, possessing the friendliest re- lations with behavior-psychology, yet neither derived from the latter nor representing what is left of the tra- ditional psychology when shorn of its biological and neurological materials? In short, may we not identify Social Psychology with Psychology? May we not say that the adjective 'sociaF does not signify the applica- tion of some body of general principles to a specially limited subject-matter or its utilization for some spec- ialized inquiry but is simply an indication of the sub- ject-matter of Psychology as such? Is not Psychology, fundamentally. Social Psychology? Or, if Psychology must be regarded as proliferating into various branches, it may be as profitable to regard it as bi- furcating into a physiological and biological study of The Field of Social Psychology 23 behavior on the one hand and Social Psychology on the other. In this way, perhaps, the body-mind prob- lem and the psycho-physical dualism may be avoided while the mechanistic program of behaviorism may find its supplementation in categories developed in the scrutiny of social data. The Data of Psychology As a tentative position, this seems to deserve explo- ration. The fact that human life is always and every- where naturally and necessarily a herd or group life is a truism. But its status as a truism suggests all the more strongly that the fact may serve to define the point of departure for psychology. If we lay aside the notion that psychology must be concerned with a peculiar kind of existence that for historical reasons is connoted by mind, self, consciousness, etc., and if we follow the suggestions of the fact that human life is a social life, there does not seem to be anything paradoxical in the idea that the data of psychology are of such a character that group life is a constitutive principle of them. The remainder of this chapter may serve to explicate the meaning of this state- ment. It may be desirable, however, to point out that a complete explication of its meaning will naturally be the outcome, rather than the preliminary survey, of psychology. It is difficult to avoid the implications of customary terminology and attitudes in the attempt to make clear i i ii ill I I I 1 'l I i l| i 24 The Basis of Social Theory the significance of the principle that in the fact of group life is found a primary determinant of the character of the data. One is apt to inquire: are the data of psychology, on this view, to be found in mind or consciousness? if not, are they to be found in something called behavior? The proper reply is: in neither, if the one implies some special psychical form of existence and the other implies something that is defined by contrast as physiological, as mechanistic, as the antithesis of the psychical. It is precisely this antithesis from which escape is sought. If the data of psychology are social facts, they cannot be ap- proached in terms defined by the point of view domi- nated by this antithesis. Doubtless the sets of terms expressing this antithesis will be given new meanings in the course of psychological investigation. The present contention is simply that the data must not be ordered by the notion of the psycho-physical antithesis as the first step of investigation. The Social Fact as Social Situation The adjective 'sociaP implies that the primary data are found in activities and their inter-relations. The social fact in its concreteness is a situation rather than a thing. The kind of situation with which the psychol- ogist must deal is one that obviously involves at least two agents. Somehow it is a joint affair. It is not the agents in their discreteness, however, that is primary, but the situation in its totality. The actual The Field of Social Psychology 25 bodily com-presence of two or more agents is not essential. The situation in its simplest form and genetically earlier character may involve such actual bodily togetherness. Thus in the career of a child, the earliest situations in which it is an active differ- ential and constitutive factor may involve the effective bodily presence of others. The remarkably early age at which the child's activities are qualified and given a certain tone and direction by the implications of the activities of others illustrates the point. In its play the child actively seeks the participation of others. It insists that grown-ups shall observe, sym- pathize, appreciate, and play a part. It is unneces- sary here to trace the process whereby a state of affairs is reached in which bodily togetherness is un- essential. In the place of bodily presence there may be objects, meanings, recollections, anticipations, and the like. The situation is none the less constituted by the activities of several agents. Bodily presence may be genetically essential, but not logically essential in the description of the fundamental pattern of the situation. The situation, then, is constituted and defined by the activities of two or more agents, but the situation remains the primary fact. Analysis will undoubtedly portray each individual as a differential factor, and the history of such differential factors will be the history of individuals developed within the conditions of group life. The primacy of the situation follows from the truism with which we start. As a phenom- ■ 1 11! 1! Hi 1(11 1 :' ^1 * I' i Mi 26 The Basis of Social Theory enon of group life, the situation and its constitutive activities reflect group life as a determinant. What this means is expressed succinctly in the statement that the social fact is found in the co-implication of ac- tivities. But co-implication must not be taken as surreptitiously introducing a value meaning. The ac- tivities of participants in a situation may vary from one extreme of mutual reinforcement and ideal inter- adjustment to the opposite extreme of antagonism, conflict, and nullification. There are an indefinite number of possibilities between coordination and op- position. The extent to which activities are similar or dissimilar in pattern varies indefinitely. But in any case, to account for the concrete character of the situation^ or for the activity of any agent, requires reference to the behavior of other participants. Com- paratively simple situations will appear sufficiently complicated upon proper analysis. The fact of the co-implication of activities may be manifested in- directly rather than directly. Social Psychology must explain how the conduct of an individual may be modified by anticipation of the reactions of others. It must also explain how this conduct reflects vast seg- ments of group life as part of its conditions. This co-implication may exist with or without the aware- ness of the participants. Purposes may be held in conmion, situations consciously shared, and activity made complementary as a result of deliberation; or purposes may conflict, and the mutually repellent character of the actions that express them define a The Field of Social Psychology 27 crisis and an opportunity for intelligence. It is un- necessary to particularize further in the matter, for it is the task of psychology to explore the details of the data whose primitive general pattern has been de- scribed. The data of psychology are thus presented in terms of acti\dty. The psychologist must classify and de- scribe the facts of activity and explain their conditions. From an analytical standpoint he may discriminate groups of conditions and treat them as separable for thought if not separable in actuality. The environ- ment as physical may be distinguished from the environment as social, inherited endowment from nurture, and so on. Whatever may be the distinctions that the investigation may require, the psychologist cannot neglect without peril the conjunction of the factors in the processes of group life. This means that the adjective 'social' does not refer to something extrinsic and accidental in the data, but to an essential and intrinsic factor. At this point the place of a radical physiological psychology can be made clear. An investigation, strictly affiliated with biology and physiological science, adhering to the so-called mechanistic scheme of interpretation, excluding all terminology hitherto connected with the 'mental,' the 'psychical,' or 'con- sciousness,' is not incompatible with the position herein advocated. Living activities and their conditions are physical facts. If the data of psychology are consti- tuted by the activities of agents, these facts can be : i II ■" 'i :■ I 1 I 1 ;i i:i! 1 28 The Basis of Social Theory studied as other physical facts are studied. The interlocking of activiUes, their deflecUons and rein- forcings, the phenomena described by the terms 'cus- tom/ 'institutions/ etc. etc., may all be envisaged in terms of the physics of stimulation, the chemistry of nerve process, and the mechanism of muscular move- ment. The facts of communication may be con- sidered within the same universe of discourse as glandular action. There is a place for the investiga- tion of the nervous system, of the physics of stimuli, of the laws of optics, and of whatever else the methods and point of view involved may lead to. And all this will be important for the psychologist as the student of social data. He cannot deny that his subject- matter can be scrutinized from this point of view, just as music may be examined in terms of the phys/cs of sound. What he must deny is that this study is the only possible one, or even the primary one in the sense of sticking close to the facts in their concrete- ness. The social psychologist will regard the type of investigation just described as abstract, specialized, and from his own point of view derivative. His posi- tion may have important bearings for metaphysics; but it involves no specific metaphysical assumptions. If his position seems to be a departure from tradi- tional views concerning psychology, it is perhaps suffident to retort that the real break with tradition occurred when 'psychology^ cut loose from meta- physics and was established as an independent science. The psychologist, that is, the social psychologist, , ... » i! The Field of Social Psycholqgy 29 will be led to use categories other than those funda- mental to the physiologico-mechanistic program. Impulse, feeling, emotion, instinct, attitudes, senti- ments, beliefs, motives, intelligence, customs, associa- tions, institutions, traditions — such a haphazard list of terms refers to facts or aspects of facts that he must take into account. Certainly mind and con- sciousness indicate something within his purview. Analysis may lead to the designation of mind and con- sciousness as occasional features of the situations with which he deals. That which is insisted upon here is the unavailability of these terms as defining the approach to the data or as defining the data. On the contrary, to discover what these terms should mean is a part of the psychologist's problem. Doubt- less he will be led to them as important distinctions in discourse — and in this way there will be secured an account of mind of great profit for the sciences of society. The Meaning of "The Social'' The position just advocated remains obscure so long as the adjective 'social' is undefined. We need to know what are social data, what constitutes a social fact. The data may have a number of aspects. What character, what aspect, is intended when the fact is called social? The data obviously fall within the sphere of human life, of human activities and affairs. But such data may be so conceived that they ; >"Ui lii ■i;l I I I ':■ I ' I i! 'IH! 30 The Basis of Social Theory are not obviously social at all. A 'musical' fact is a fact for physics when the transmission of sound is under consideration; and for physiology when the apparatus of audition or vocalization is under investi- gation. But the adjective 'musical' stands for a character possessed by the fact in a context that is not the concern of physics, physiology, or mathematics. And similarly for the adjective 'social.' The adjective has so many shades of meaning that one would avoid it if that were possible. In the circumstances, it will conduce to clearness to indicate and illustrate the senses in which the term is not intended in demarcating the subject-matter of psychology. Afterwards it may be possible gradually to provide a more positive and acceptable connotation. In the first place, the 'social' has uses that connote value or worth. It stands for that which is right, just, and proper, for the kindly, the well-meaning, the amiable, and so on in many shades of meaning. From its opposition to that which is implied by the term self-seeking, the social takes on the connotation of the altruistic, the benevolent, the self-sacrificing. The welfare of the individual is distinguished from that of the group, and the social comes to mean that which is directed toward the welfare of the group. With respect to these shades of meaning, it is suffi- cient to state that they do not give the context within which the data of psychology are said to be social. In the second place, the term receives a connota- tion from its use in contrast with the individual. The Field of Social Psychology 31 The value distinctions above indicated may accom- pany this second set of meanings, but not necessarily so. The social, defined by contrast with that which is called the individual, commonly leads to the division of a set of facts into two sets. The one set pertains to the group, or the facts resulting from inter-associa- tions of individuals. The other set pertains to the individual in his particularity. The social is that- which-is-not-individual, and the individual is that- which-is-not-social. This distinction emerges in many fields. Social instincts are distinguished from indi- vidual or self -preserving instincts (and here, of course, the value distinction also occurs). Or the social is used to define a sphere of activities or rela- tions that are public, objective, while the individual defines a sphere that is private, inner, subjective, personal. Relationships between individuals, asso- ciations, organizations, institutions, public order — such facts as these constitute the sphere of the social as in contrast with the region of the individual. The inner sphere of feeling, desire, private purposes, pref- erences, sentiments, etc., and perhaps activities con- cerned directly with these, constitute the region of what is individual as in contrast with the region of the social. Individual rights may be set off against social rights; and then the problem of the relation of the individual and society becomes central. The meanings that the 'social' and the 'individual' receive by the contrast of each with the other, like the other meanings of the term social, doubtiess have util- ilfl, :i!:' 32 The Basis of Social Theory ity and validity within special contexts. It would not be difficult to show how inadequate are these uses of the terms when removed from the proper context. One general remark is pertinent: such distinctions cannot define the subject-matter of Social Psychology, although it may well be the case that the development of the subject will provide a more satisfactory state- ment of the contexts within which the distinctions obtain. Whatever importance the distinction between the individual and the social may have, especially when the terms are used as a contrasting pair, it cannot be regarded as basic and constitutive. It is a distinc- tion that emerges within the subject-matter: it has no significance in connection with the genesis and history of that subject-matter, nor does it furnish the primary logical classification of the data. To begin with this distinction is to inject into the determination of the field of inquiry a problem incapable of solution: or at least it creates a situation that requires some sort of over-soul, some Collective Mind, or the accommo- datory infinities of the Absolute to overcome its dis- crepancies. To define social data by discriminating them from the realm of individual data is likely to carry with it a surreptitious introduction of the notion of the isolated consciousness and the abstractions of the mechanical schema of thought. Inevitably society appears as constituted by the interactions of minds. This may be illustrated by reference to Ellwood. This author states that the "criterion of the social is The Field of Social Psychology 33 interdependence in junction on the mental side" and that "It is mental interaction, or the functional inter- dependence of individuals on the psychic side . . . which constitutes society." As a formal definition of society, the following is given: "... a society is any group of individuals who carry on a common life by means of mental interaction,^^ In a footnote attached to this definition he states that, "In accordance with this definition the word 'social' should mean of, or pertaining to, a group of individuals who carry on a common life by means of mental interaction'* ^ One of the preliminary methods of Social Psychology is said to consist of "The psychological analysis of con- temporary society through the deductive application of the laws and principles of individual psychol- ogy. ..." * The subject-matter is, according to this view, psychic. The following statement is advanced in explanation of the nature of the science: "We mean by social psychology, then, for the purpose of this book, the psychology of associational processes, or, a psychology of the social life. The study of the social aspects of individual consciousness we shall consider a part of individual psychology, while the 2 Ellwood, Introduction to Social Psychology, Appleton, N. Y., 1917, pp. 6, 7; for additional statements, cf. pp. 8, 9. There is some danger of injustice to Ellwood in taldng too seriously the statements in the introduction to a book evidently intended for the undergraduate. It may be that the difficulties criticized are incidental to popular exposition; but on the other hand the ma- terial quoted and referred to forms an apt illustration and is there- fore utilized. * Jbid., p. 16. .1 1 |ii '^ .( 34 The Basis of Social Theory study of the mental aspects of association, of the func- tioning of mental processes in social life, we shall en- deavor to show is the most fruitful and at present the most practically important part of sociology."* Later occurs the statement: "More briefly, the social psychologist studies the psychical interactions of in- dividuals." 5 These statements leave the matter ob- scure. It seems to be the case that social psychology is first of all an application of individual psychology; but secondly, the individual consciousness has social aspects which are, however, relegated to individual psychology. Presumably, individual psychology will deal with the individual and social aspect of conscious- ness, while social psychology will treat the mental as- pects of association and (or?) the functioning of mental processes in social life. The reason for these incoherencies probably resides in the fact that Ellwood's approach is sociological rather than psycho- logical, and, as a sociologist interested in taking ad- vantage of psychological knowledge, he takes psychol- ogy as he finds it. His position follows quite na- turally from the orthodox psychological tradition. This may serve to illustrate the contention that the social and the individual, individual consciousness and psychic interactions, furnish a highly unpromising terminology for Social Psychology. Nothing is gained by defining society and social fact as essentially psychic. The fact of group life is re- '^Ibid., pp. 4-5. ^Ibid., p. 9. The Field of Social Psychology 35 sponsible for the emergence of many facts that are not psychic if the "psychic" refers to states of con- sciousness, subjective processes, or contacts of indi- vidual consciousnesses. One^s dependence on the mechanism of production and distribution for the satisfaction of one's needs is hardly a psychic fact. If it be true that the group life of beings possessing consciousness and mind alone deserves the term 'social,' it is not a necessary deduction that social life is essentially psychic nor that this is the most im- portant thing to be noted concerning it. The psychical commonly implies so much of subjectivity, privacy, insulation, that a public and objective fact of such stuff seems paradoxical. Once more it may be said that the psychical, mind and the interaction of minds, the collective or group mind, may be valid and useful expressions within proper contexts; but for Social Psychology they are rather indicative of possible outcomes than of points of departure, and it is the task of Social Psychology to define the proper contexts. It is only when consciousness or mind is postulated as the starting-point that social life and processes are naturally viewed as of such a character that "psychic" is the most significant predicate to be applied to them. So far the discussion has tended to show in what sense the subject-matter of Social Psychology is not to be understood. But this lengthy discussion is a necessary preliminary. The question, then, may be repeated: what are social facts? What is the adjec- 36 The Basis of- Social Theory tive to mean as an index to the subject-matter of psychology? It was stated above that the fact that human life is group life should suggest the point of departure for psychology. That human beings live a herd life, that human life is biologically that kind of life, was said to be a truism. The prolonged period of human infancy, and the dependence upo;i others that this fact implies, is sufficient evidence that a herd life is a bio- logical demand. The evidence seems to indicate that throughout human evolutionary history the human animal lived in groups. If herd life is natural to man, if his survival, biologically speaking, has depended upon his living in groups, then the fact is expressive of the structure and constitution of the human organism, of its natural endowment and the limitations of that endowment, of the necessary conditions of the birth, growth, and career pertaining to this living form. The career of the human animal then begins within the herd and whatever group life implies has reference to the environment within which that career is natu- rally pursued. The activities which constitute this career are phenomena of group life. Assuredly this means more than that group life is merely accidental, extrinsic, a superficial contact of otherwise self-inclosed independent agents. The group life of the human animal, if in any sense an essential fact of the exist- ence of that kind of animal, must be an organized life. That is to say, there must be, in however rudimentary a form, the beginnings of order, arrangement, system, The Field of Social Psychology 37 some schematization of life, some measure in the inter- locking of activities. This exists even though the par- ticipants have no conscious recognition of it. There could not be a group, a herd, unless some degree of articulation and inter-adaptation of activities obtained. Continuity through time is not a succession of genera- tions — the passing of one generation as its successor starts. The articulation of activities is not re- discovered and re-created by each generation. Rather, the organization of the group persists through time, and each human unit is born within it. It is a condi- tion of his career, it is ^environmental' and operative long before it is consciously recognized. Even in its crudest form, the possession of a system of communi- cation, of tools and the technique of their use, of group habits and customs of however simple a charac- ter, and of other elements, constitutes a tradition, a system and order, within which each unit is immersed from the start of life. If all this be matter of fact, the truism that human life is group life has implications for psychology. Whatever else it may mean, it does mean that human activities are found within a system of things called group life and nowhere else. It means that the environment within which the activities of the human being occur possesses everything that is implied by group life as a distinctive feature. It means that this living structure operates within a system of things or conditions that includes whatever makes up group life as a part of those conditions. Without attempting, for I'l ' ! 'i III III :.:ii :\> III ■ 1 ! 38 The Basis of Social Theory the present, to state what the subject-matter of psy- chology shall be — ^whether conduct, mental processes, or anything else — that subject-matter is found within group life. And this, so far, is what is meant by stat- ing that the data of psychology are social facts. Resting upon the general proposition that has been considered, and in the light of discussion so far, the social fact may be defined in a preliminary way as any fact that could not come to be at all save within a group or congregate form of life. The social fact ap- pears as a resultant of the convergence of many con- ditions, and among these conditions must be reckoned the system of arrangements, forces and activities in- volved in group life. The causation of a social fact may be exceedingly complex, but an essential element in the composition of causes will be the existence of that system of things indicated in the statement that human life is essentially a group life. Urwick has given practically the same statement. After defining society, he goes on to say that "Within such a group an infinity of events is continually taking place, events of action, feeling, and thought; as well as events of external nature, producing constantly changes of struc- ture, of relationship of the members to each other, of custom and habit, of feeling, attitude, idea, and tend- ency. This vast process of events is the social process; and the events themselves, with all their consequences, . . . are the social phenomena whose significance the social philosopher seeks to discover. But not every event occurring within the group is a social phenome- The Field of Social Psychology 39 non. Every phenomenon has many aspects; and we are concerned only with its social aspects. An earth- quake or a toothache are not social events in them- selves; but some aspects of them may be social. . . . And we may define a social phenomenon as any fact or aspect of a fact which cannot be explained or de- scribed without reference to the action of group mem- bers upon one another, or without reference to social relationships." ® It may be objected that this definition of what the adjective 'social* means is mainly negative, and is at bottom circular. In so far as the objection is well taken, it may be said in extenuation that a positive and compact definition is to be expected of a social psychology after the achievement of a systematic ex- ploration of its subject-matter rather than at the beginning of its work. Every science, after all, dis- covers how its subject-matter is to be defined by pushing as far as possible the investigation based upon tentative preliminary definitions. It is important to recognize that the social as so far defined in no way obtains its meaning from a contrast with the individual. The social as it has been defined is logically — and perhaps historically — ^prior to the distinction between the individual and the social. The social-as-in-contrast-with-the-individual is a dis- tinction, to repeat, that must be discovered in the proc- ess of inquiry. The distinction will appear within the •Urwick, A Philosophy of Social Progress, Methuen & Co., Lon- don, 2nd. edition, p. 19. 1 11 40 The Basis of Scx:ial Theory universe of discourse of psychology. The fact that within a group form of life such a distinction does ap- pear, that facts tend to be distinguished as pertaining primarily to society or primarily to the individual, con- stitutes in itself a datum to be considered by any social science. The distinction takes many forms, and it is part of the task of psychology to discriminate these forms and to analyze the contexts within which the various forms of the distinction arise and obtain their peculiar significance. If we define the social as a name for facts or aspects of facts that cannot be satis- factorily described or accounted for save by reference to the natural group or collective character of human life, then the facts called 'individuaP as distinguished from the social and the facts called ^sociaP as distin- guished from the individual are themselves social phenomena in the sense of that definition. This may be expressed by stating that there is no problem of the "Relation of the Individual and Soci- ety," in any manageable and therefore fruitful sense. Such capitalized entities are abstractions. To inaugu- rate the investigation by taking this as the first dis- crimination means to open the way to all the dialecti- cal difficulties involved in determining how the units unite to form the whole, or how within the whole such independent discrete units can exist at all. Perhaps some thinkers have seriously entertained the notion, as a historical picture, of society having been formed by the formal or informal contractual association of atomic individuals. But in a logical sense the idea has The Field of Social Psychology 41 been even more influential. The individual, it may be said, is the product of society; but it may be said with equal truth that society is the product of the in- dividual. Both are emergent facts from the womb of group life, or if we may change the figure, group life is inherently prismatic and produces its own double refraction. Unless so viewed abstraction will be countered by abstraction. The infant is bom within a group; and as the infant becomes an **Indmduar in his growth within society, society, as that which is set over against him by contrast, becomes ^'Society** in the same measure of differentiation. If there be no problem of the relation of the "Individual" and "Soci- ety," there are many problems arising from the fact that group life is a process wherein the activities of living agents have the most intricate interplay. In a sense there can be no problem of the Individual and Society because the terms represent matters of fact that observation finds as it finds that forests comprise many trees, or that a herd of animals consists of members that can be counted one by one. When mind discovers man, it discovers the natural occurrence of group life and sees that the group comprises members. In this sense there is consequently no problem. But there are many problems that arise within group liv- ing, and these problems when stated reflectively have an aspect referring primarily to an individual, or to many individuals, taken in their separateness, and another aspect referring primarily to the fact that these individuals somehow are so interrelated that !i I ill 42 The Basis of Social Theory they hang together in groups. There is no such thing as Society— there are societies. This means a specific set of conditions, specific forms of inter-relation, spe- cific arrangements, orderings, ways of getting things done, specific purposes, and the like, as that to which the term 'society' refers. If group life is a sort of biological demand, then the participants in that life encounter group life as an ineluctable set of facts. Because a society at a given moment means a specific organization, however complex, each agent, in so far as he is set over against it and not merely absorbed in it, has many relations to this complex of facts. The agent's activity is variously differentiated, reflecting many wants, desires, impulses, tendencies, and pur- poses. Some activities are frustrated by certain con- ditions in a given group-system; others are supported; still others are deflected, distorted, diverted from their natural channels, and lead to outcomes desired, merely accepted, or hated. On the other hand, from the standpoint of the group as a group, or a particular association, there is a similar multiplicity of phenom- ena arising as a group activity encounters the activi- ties of its own members in their particularity, of other individuals, or of other groups. For the group must take into account the activities of individuals or groups as conditions of its own pursuits. To list all the ways in which problems arise having to do with individuals in relations with groups, of individuals in relations with individuals, or of groups with groups, would be an appalling task. For at every point in The Field of Social Psychology 43 which a given activity, whether of individual or group, takes the form of a conditioning factor of some other activity, whether of individual or group, there exists the possibility of a problem. But we must not as- sume that a universal abstract distinction of discourse denoted by the terms, the "Individual" and "Society," defines a wholesale problem of the possibility of group life and individuality. Any situation or activity selected from the general stream for examination will reflect many conditions. Since group life means that any one's activity is actu- ally or potentially a condition having some bearing, however trivial, upon every one's activity, this mutual conditioning of act by act is the source of problems. Activity is, of course, hedged about by natural physical conditions; because physical objects have a structure of their own, life-activities are impeded or facilitated, made fruitful or sterile, are directed and re-directed. In so far, however, as things in this sense are consid- ered in abstraction from their position in the social net-work, they represent factors of activity that are nonsocial, or only indirectly social. It is the fact of the conditioning of activity by activity that forms the primary fact of group life. The truth that resides in the statement that mind and personality are prod- ucts of group life derives from the fact that the activ- ities of every agent are immersed in the stream of action that is the life of the group. But this truth is partial. It is made complete by recognizing that society in the sense of society-as-the-organized-life-of- I i>i li i •ll ill j«» : lif I \ i 44 The Basis of Social Theory its-members is also an achievement of group life. From the above it follows that individual psychol- ogy is an abstraction : to correct it we need to empha- size how the inherited endowment of each human being is conditioned in its development by the group system. A study of animistic and anthropomorphic ideas, of mythology and language, custom and tradition, would illustrate the thesis by revealing how far-flung is the network of collective life. Even nature is caught within the same system by the naive mind. Love and hate as the first categories of mind bear witness to the social conditions of thought. And so we see again how inadequate a point of departure the notion of the individual mind affords. But if the notion of the psy- chology of the individual is an abstraction from the position contended for here, there is an equal danger of abstraction in the use of such phrases as 'the group mind,' 'society,' the 'collective mind' as descriptions of subject-matter. The proper meaning of these terms must be the discovery of psychological investigation. And finally, it must always be remembered that man is found only in the shape of this or that man, with just such and such an equipment of powers, in- terests, habits, sentiments, purposes and ideals; just as society is found only in the form of a particular system of things at a given time and in assignable con- ditions. Group life represents positive conditions for the appearance of any fact, whether of action or of 'mind,' of an individual or of a society, that psychol- ogy can take as its datum. As a vast cultural tradi- The Field of Social Psychology 45 tion is created, the activities of every agent come to be ever more and more intricately conditioned by the swollen stream of the group life-process. Man alone possesses a history. He is man because he is histori- cal and he is historical because he is man. Where group life is human life, it must be emphasized that this stream of action comes to be more and more con- ditioned by the activities of these agents as differential factors. To take these agents as differential factors gives the central meaning of that which is implied by the individual as in contrast with society. In some such way the situation within which the psychologist finds his data in their concreteness may be described. It is to be admitted that the data in their concreteness are too intricate to be handled until discrimination and abstraction, guided by the require- ments of investigation, have provided groupings of the data such as may be found in any science. The pur- port of this discussion, however, amounts to the con- tention that such analyses cannot be guided prosper- ously by the phraseology and standpoint of the tradi- tional "general" psychology, nor by such categories as 'the individual' and 'society.' The data of psy- chology in its basic form, (and the basic form of psychology is social psychology,) are social facts. It may be hoped that the above discussion has furnished a preliminary survey of the meaning of this statement and has suggested some measure of orientation with respect to the problem of determining the field of Social Psychology. CHAPTER II Human Nature and Sociai, Forces If human nature and conduct are primarily social phenomena, then the conditions of these human activ- ities are the conditions of social (or human) life. Analytically considered, conduct appears as the ex- pression of three discriminable sets of conditions. Conduct is conditioned by ( 1 ) the constitution of the human being as it exists at any given moment or as it is implied by original nature, (2) the activities that constitute the life of the social group, and (3) the natural order of things. It is important to note that there is no such separation in fact as the terms of the above distinctions would suggest. As coming dis- cussion is intended to show, in the concreteness of a fact of human conduct, these three sets of conditions are one. We have distinguished the system of activ- ities forming the life of the group from the natural order of things, that is, from the world of nature as it is studied by natural science in the inclusive sense of the latter term. Now the student must be especially safe-guarded against the inclination, stimulated by the desire for simplicity, to dissever the group-life activi- ties from the system of environing physical processes. 46 Human Nature and Social Forces 47 From the standpoint of present purposes, whatever may be the case with other purposes of inquiry, the activities of the group are continuous with the proc- esses of nature; and from this standpoint the system of things is of interest only because it is implicated in the conduct of living human beings. In consequence the three sets of conditions above-mentioned can be re- duced to two so far as the social psychologist, abstract- ing from the interests of specialized inquiry, is con- cerned. These two sets of conditions, therefore, are the human constitution on the one hand and the social environment on the other. This statement has impli- cations to be clarified in the course of discussion. We may begin with the first set of conditions. ''I I Human Nature The constitution of the human being conditions that being's conduct. This, it will be said, is either a truism to the effect that the conduct of human beings is just the conduct of human beings, or else a mere summary that is meaningless without detailed explication. Hu- man nature, it was said, is a social product; and now the human constitution is offered as a condition of conduct. If both statements are sound, human nature is being used in more than one sense. This is suffi- cient to indicate that human nature as a term of analy- sis must be further analyzed. To the scientifically minded the phrase is apt to be repellent. Even if not used in a semi-mystical manner, 48 The Basis of Social Theory it seems more in place in literature or the hortatory treatise than in psychology. But on the other hand, it is clear that psychology is in some sense about hu- man nature. The phrase implies something uniform, stable, enduring, and typical. An animal's behavior is said to be typical of its kind, to spring from the nature of that animal, and despite its generality the phrase carries sound meaning. So it may be under- stood that ^human nature' implies that man, taken as a form of life, has a natural and relatively enduring structure. Functionally, the activities of men are ex- pressions of this structure. Again, common-sense usage points to an explanatory ground in its employ- ment of the term. Here something in the form of causes or necessary conditions is indicated. With the use of the term as panegyric or apologetic we have no concern. Used in reference to structure and function, human nature is taken as a collective term for a set of elements of structure or for a set of traits, tendencies, and characteristic ways of acting. The objection may be raised that ^human nature' as so used is little more than a substitute for the soul and its mysterious faculties as conceived in popular metaphysics. Doubtless the term is an abstraction. But its connotation is such as to bring its object within the universe of discourse of science, while the con- notation of the term soul (not to mention conscious- ness) is precisely such as to remove the object from this universe. The historical connections of the terms *sour and 'consciousness/ as suggested before, with Human Nature and Social Forces 49 ontological and epistemological problems make their employment in a scientific context exceedingly awk- ward; while for common sense the term 'souP has special ethico-religious connotations. The term 'hu- man nature' is at least more free from such implica- tions. Whatever mysteries are latent in the concept of human nature are simply the mysteries of ignorance and therefore to be dispelled with the advance of knowledge. And finally it may be asserted that what- ever obscurantism besets the appeal to human nature accompanies equally a reference to the nervous system since this term also is frequently used as an asylum of ignorance. The question is simply one of what we know and of what we do not know, and of the terms of discourse that will facilitate analysis. Analysis of Human Nature The first problem that confronts us is to effect greater precision, in general and in detail, in the use of the term. We may follow the suggestions of ordinary usage. Every one distinguishes between that which a person "is born with" and that which he acquires, between that which he possesses by inheritance and that which he comes to possess only with and through the specific contents of education and training, or more generally, experience. We speak of inherited gifts, traits, talents, abilities. They are contrasted with abilities, activities, and traits that are said to be ac- counted for by specific exercises and efforts, by learn- so The Basis of Social Theory ing and 'experience/ We distinguish that which we are independently of experience and that which we come to be through experience. There is, obviously, a genuine distinction here. Unfortunately these phrases are used without exactitude of definition, and, while this may be serviceable in practice, the popular usages positively hamper scientific inquiry. Slip-shod em- ployment leads to questions too ambiguous to be an- swerable and to generalizations too facile to be in- telligible. This is the source of questions such as: Does inheritance account for everything essential in man? How much is due to heredity and how much to environment? What traits are inherited and what acquired? Propositions based on these and similar implied pseudo-simplicities are propounded in settle- ment of problems of education, morals, and society with results that are necessarily inadequate. It is then necessary to determine more precisely the nature and bearings of these distinctions. The term "Original Nature" is commonly used to signify that which is inherited, and the term "Nurture" that which is due to use, to training, education, or experience, or as is said, to environmental influences. These are the terms to be defined. Definition of Original Nature Thorndike states the meaning of original nature in the following way: "Any man possesses at the very start of his life— that is, at the moment when the Human Nature and Social Forces 51 ovum and spermatozoon which are to produce him have united — numerous well-defined tendencies to future behavior. Between the situations which he will meet and the responses which he will make to them, pre-fprmed bonds exist. . . . His intellect and morals, as well as his bodily organs and movements, are in part the consequence of the nature of the em- bryo. . . . What a man does and is throughout life is a result of whatever constitution he has at the start and of all the forces that act upon it before and after birth. I shall use the term 'original nature' for the former and 'environment' for the latter. His original nature is thus a name for the nature of the combined germ cells from which he springs, and his environment is a name for the rest of the universe, so far as it may, directly or indirectly, influence him." ^ The meaning of the term has also been conveyed by such expressions as these: "the inborn physical structure of one's being; a bundle of tendencies which have not yet expressed themselves"; "the active source of the operations by which the being realizes its destined ends"; "the term is used as an abstraction by the biologist to signify a character, the differential cause of which is in the germ-plasm." It is essential to understand that original nature stands for a set of potentialities, or tendencies of de- velopment; or else for a fact of structure. In either case it is an abstraction. It never exists as such. If we are to find original nature anywhere, it must be at ^Thorndike, Educational Psychology, vol. I, pp. 1, 2. 52 The Basis of Social Theory the very start of the process of growth; for once this has begun, the 'nature' of the developing embryo is one that has been affected, and therefore is not, as such, 'original.' Original nature is an abstraction indicating a part of the total set of conditions deter- mining the specific character of the developing individ- ual. It is a term of analysis rather than a thing. The question may be viewed first from the struc- tural standpoint. We then see that the ovum and spermatozoon possess their several determinate struc- tures. This structure is first of all a structure char- acteristic of a species. Just where the line is to be drawn in distinguishing one species from another may frequently be a difficult problem. But at any rate any group of individuals that are regarded as constituting a species or kind are so grouped on the basis of com- mon structural characteristics. Within the limits of that which is common there occurs a great variety, perhaps, of individual variations, the limits of which may be practically indeterminate. When the individ- ual variation is unusually great, such individuals may be called abnormal, monstrous, or simply deviations from the normal. In any case we would naturally expect the structure of the human embryo, when com- pared with any other, to present differences that are more important than the similarities. Original nature, then, with reference to the structure of the ovum and spermatozoon, denotes the structure that is common to the ova and spermatozoa of the human kind and those variations permitted by such structure and found Human Nature and Social Forces S3 within its limits. This structure, the "constitution possessed at the start," is one fundamental factor, or set of differential factors, determining the direction of development and the nature of the product of develop- ment as found at any given stage. Secondly, regarded from the functional standpoint, original nature denotes those tendencies which will become manifest as functions in the process of growth. Original nature does not stand for the functions, but for the tendency to establish certain functions. The functions of a fish, let us say, must assuredly express certain tendencies that are latent at the start. This is simply to point to the correlation of structure and function. As structural development reaches a given stage, functional development will be found to cor- respond therewith. And as one kind of life is distin- guished from another by differences of structure, so one is distinguished from another by corresponding differences of function. Original nature, then, sig- nifies that, given such and such an environment, a given type of product will result. Within the acorn there is no oak. But the original nature of the oak, passing from potentiality to actualization, gives an oak, not a maple or an elm. Original nature, to repeat, never exists as such. When the spermatozoon and ovum have combined, we have a resultant. Its nature is 'acquired,' in the sense that the developing individual, at every stage, owes its character in part to environmental influences. Nothing given originally remains unaffected. Even 54 The Basis of Social Theory this statement is misleading because it represents original nature as a thing. The process of growth is an establishment of inherent powers; the congenital structure conditions the entire process from beginning to end. But the structure at any stage, considered analytically, is a resultant of the interaction of the sum-total of forces and structural tendencies in the developing individual at the immediately preceding stage and the sum-total of environing forces. If O be taken as standing for original nature, let SI, S2, S3 . . . represent successive stages in the process of growth. Then at none of these moments do we find original nature, but a character, an organized unity, that represents environmental influences. The nature of the individual at any moment is the result of the combined influence of its nature at the preceding moment together with the results of environing forces; and so on back to the very start. Original Nature and Nurture The importance of having a clear notion of the meaning of original nature will appear at every turn. What must be contended with is the almost inveterate tendency to introduce surreptitiously a duality into human nature, and to translate the duality of analytical terminology into factual duality. Cor- responding to the division of the conditions of conduct into two factors, the one the human constitution pos- sessed at the start and the other that set of factors »i Human Nature and Social Forces 55 lumped together as 'environmental,' a second division is effected, and man is conceived as dual. Language frequently suggests (and only too often correctly translates intent) that that which is given at the start persists albngside of but essentially unaffected by environment. Of course a distinction is tacitly made between life-processes in the physiological sense, which are obviously a resultant of both original nature and environment, and the so-called psychological processes. It is with respect to the latter that the dualistic point of view commonly obtains. Thus we meet with the tendency to attribute to original nature, to 'inher- itance,' conceived as a set of factors persisting un- changed throughout life, complete responsibility for a certain group of psychological processes. Instincts, for example, are apt to be regarded as somehow given originally, and as continuing virtually unchanged; or, if they change through pressure of natural and social circumstances, then the changes are extrinsic and un- essential. On the other hand, if changes affecting the very nature of the instinct occur, the presump- tion seems to be that the alterations are to be accounted for by the unfolding inner potency of the instinct itself. Environmental effects are added to, but not rooted in, original constitution. On the other hand, that which we learn, that which accrues in its specific character as a result of contacts with things animate or inanimate, such as the ability to read, to play the violin, to operate a machine, to love one's family or an institution — these things are said to be due to 1'^ S6 The Basis of Social Theory experience, to be somehow deposited in the organism alongside of but not intrinsically connected with the original nature of the organism. This method of ex- pression (and manner of thought) is found in such distinctions as that between unlearned and learned modes of behavior, or between inherited and acquired habits. We are here of course translating into clearer terms the relatively vague implications of certain rather general popular habits of thought and expres- sion. Such inapt expressions, if not corrected by necessary qualifications, suggest a divorcing of original nature and the natural order that parallels the older situation when a substantial immaterial soul was set over against an animal body and the system of material things. The older problem of what is due to the inmiaterial soul and what is due to the material body tends to assume the form of determining the share of original nature and the share of environment. Now it is undoubtedly legitimate as a matter of expediency to "assign separate shares in the causa- tion of human behavior" to one or the other factor, and to "neglect, or take for granted, the cooperating action of one of the two divisions in order to think more successfully and conveniently of the action of the other." ^ But at least for the purposes now at hand it is important that this device be recognized for what it is, and that in thought proper correction be made for this one-sidedness. Thus, for example, it may be convenient to use the term "learning" in a «Thorndike, op. at., pp. 2, 3. Human Nature and Social Forces 57 narrow sense. But if the term be left unrestricted, it can be extended to cover every effect of environ- ment. However, if the term be confined to specific effects implying some measure of aim and effort on the part of the individual, it cannot be so extended. But this is no reason for segregating the effects of learn- ing and carrying over the implied contrast as distin- guishing between two separate fields of fact that may get jumbled together but never fused. Learning rests on conditions, call them what one pleases. And these conditions, in part, are what is implied by original nature. In the final analysis everything is both learned and unlearned, inherited and acquired. Is there any activity that can be called strictly unlearned in the sense of coming to be and possessing its specific character without the play of environmental forces? Or does environment ever create? Is anything learned in the sense of being accounted for wholly by environment? Such questions suggest their own an- swer. The simplest reflex as a structural unit is there only after growth; it functions only when a given stage has been reached and then only as a result of inner and outer conditions. Original nature and nurture, in sum, are the terms of a distinction that is applicable to every fact of human psychology. But they are not names for two separate bodies of fact. Whether the fact be a reflex action, an emotional process, an in- stinctive operation, an ideational activity, a volition, or any other psychological event, in every case the distinction is relevant, just as the distinction between ii M 58 The Basis of Social Theory the concavity and convexity of the curve is applicable to every moment of the curve. Let us frankly admit that this protracted discussion of a simple point is justified only by the fact that these terminological ex- pediencies are misunderstood. This misunderstand- ing, we may discover, is not without serious conse- quences. Fixity, Uniformity, and Variation in Human Nature If the distinction between original and acquired nature, the learned and the unlearned, is subject to mis-apprehension, the same is true of such terms as 'human nature' and 'environment.' Common speech implies at one time or other both the fixity and the inconstancy of human nature. At one moment such a phrase as "it is just human nature" connotes a con- viction that human nature is essentially invariant, that it is at bottom uniform in every human being. Judy O'Grady and the Colonel's Lady, as Kipling has it, are sisters under ♦heir skins. On the other hand, popular speech betrays equally a conviction that human nature is unstable, variable, fluctuating with circumstances, and with no two individuals the same. It is taken as a bundle of uncertainties, inscrutabilities and caprices. It is clear that there is justification for both kinds of expression. How can we interpret the fixity of human nature from age to age, its uniformity from individual to individual, so as to reconcile them with Human Nature and Social Forces 59 extraordinary variability? This fixity, first of all, is generic, the fixity of the type. This is simply to say that human beings form a kind. Beneath individual differences^ are found traits essentially the same throughout the natural group. The differences arise within limits, and these limitations define the type. In certain cases, we speak of the abnormal, the devia- tion. How great a variation is required in order to justify calling an individual a-typical is not of any importance here. In terms of mind, the constancy of human nature implies a mental structure character- istic of the race, and the constancy of human anatom- ical structure contains a similar implication. Human nature is thus a name for the collection of generic traits, tendencies, capacities, powers, functions, ex- pressing an inherited organization. Taken as a whole, it expresses a differential factor that distinguishes the human type from other types. When animal psychol- ogy reveals a similarity between a process in animal and in man there is nothing to contradict this posi- tion; on the contrary there is an implication of the constancy of type or else comparison would be im- possible. In reaction to abuses of the term 'instinct' and the like the use of such terms as 'constant human traits,' etc., may be deplored. But even if we adopt the unit reflex as the unit of analysis we do not there- by escape an appeal to human nature. The set of inherited reflexes possessed by human beings in general is, as a set, peculiarly human and, in so far, something typical and constant. In any event a differential n n l! 60 The Basis of Social Theory factor is invoked, a factor practically constant, whether conceived in terms of structure or of func- tion. The differences of race in the human species can be considered in essentially the same way in terms of fixity and uniformity. The notion of the fixity of human nature must be taken with sufficient plasticity to be accommodated to the facts. Man has evolved; so it may be said that the 'constant' traits are not constant at all. Fixity then does not mean ultimate immutable kinds. More than that, we may like to fancy a future race of super- men, again implying that human nature is not fixed in the sense of being un-plastic. We are not concerned with the biologist's immense survey, but still we may ask: Has human nature, in the sense in which we are using the term, altered within one or within ten thou- sand years? To insist that no alterations have oc- curred might be over-bold. Yet it would be excessively difficult to specify the nature of the alterations unless by resuscitating large numbers of our remote ancestors we could inaugurate comparisons both of detail and with respect to type. What would be important, for example, would be a demonstration that, within his- torical times, man has completely lost some fun- damental trait that he previously possessed or has acquired during that time such a trait not previously possessed. Is there an important unit of behavior, an instinct for example, the history of whose first appearance and establishment as an inherited trait is comprised within such a period? It is improbable III Human Nature and Social Forces 61 that within an interval so brief, as the biologist would view it, such a loss or acquisition has occurred. A new type of humanity could hardly have emerged since the e^rly Pharaohs. (We are, of course, not re- ferring to the inexhaustible possibilities of individual variation due to the combination of ancestral factors, nor to races. Individuals fall within the limits of the generically human, and so do racial types. Such considerations imply simply that the fixity of the hu- man type must be so interpreted as to be accommo- dated to individual variation and the existence of racial types. Biologically, such variability is in itself a hu- man trait). Human traits, accordingly, or the unit- reflexes and general brain structure, if the latter ex- pressions are clearer, have probably remained sensibly the same throughout the historical period. The effects of social selection may have had the result of diminish- ing the frequency with which certain individual varia- tions appear. We may conjecture that social pressure is against the survival of the unsympathetic type, as Sutherland seems to think. Whatever the possibil- ities here, appraisement is venturesome in view of present ignorance. Until we know in vastly greater detail what are the component factors of the human type we are hardly able to state when changes are of such a character that they fall within the type rather than imply alterations of kind. It may be a matter of the relative frequency of a factor, of the appearance of a variant factor, or of the waxing or waning inten- sity of a trait present in some measure throughout h ii 62 The Basis of Social Theory long periods. That an ancient Greek possessed a trait, not emergent today, that would be wholly irrelevant to the circumstances of life in the present, does not seem probable. In the light of these considerations it seems safe to state that changes in environmental conditions within historical times have been greater, and their cu- mulative effects more significant, than changes within inherited nature. With the theoretical qualifications that the above considerations require taken into ac- count as a marginal restraint upon statement, the social psychologist may assume human nature to be practically fixed. His real interest is not in these essentially biological questions. Individual Differences in Human Nature Two sources are assigned to the variations from individual to individual found in human nature. The first consists of differences of original endowment; the second of differences of environment and experience. Neglecting the latter for the moment, we may con- sider the first. No two individuals possess identical endowments. The variability thus indicated, however, is a variability within the limits that define the type. A final account of the causes and the determination of the limits of variation is naturally a problem for an- other field of inquiry. It is certain that such individ- ual differences of endowment occur, although estimates of the importance of this fact conflict. For some, Human Nature and Social Forces 63 such differences should be minimized and envi- ronmental circumstances burdened with responsibility for causing the marked differences of individual char- acter and ability revealed in the behavior of persons. At another time environmental influence is reduced almost to nothing and heredity is charged with re- sponsibih'ty. These attitudes seem to have their periods of popularity and unpopularity. There is here simply a special case of the tendency to sunder two complementary factors and then, taking them in sever- ance, to inquire into their relative importance. Persons vary immensely; between the dunce and the genius, the criminal and the moral hero, there are assuredly great differences. To inquire whether original nature or environment contributes the larger portion of these differences is to introduce a difficult problem of measurement. To isolate the inherited factor is the first requisite. But in any case, for the social psychologist the distinction involved is abstract, and both sources of individual variation must be reckoned with in every case. It is worth noting that this original variability may be regarded not only as centered about the type; it may also be looked upon as a characteristic of the species. The fact of the great variability of the hu- man kind may be counted one of the fundamental traits defining its nature as a kind. Accordingly, when we investigate human nature from the standpoint of social causation, this capacity must be reckoned as of immense significance. I ' m;!I 64 The Basis of Social Theory While the fact of variability is obvious, and the necessity of admitting a natural basis for it in original nature is undeniable, it is not so clear how these varia- tions are to be conceived. Confining our attention to original nature, there are several senses in which these individual differences might conceivably exist. In the first place, the differences might be of more or less. Assuming that we are in possession of an ac- ceptable inventory of the chief components of original nature, it is possible that one individual possesses a given component or components in a greater or lesser degree than another individual. Such a difference of more or less may be taken to mean that in the adult individuals, one reveals a more energetic and intense response to a certain type of situation than another, or differs in a similar sense with respect to this or that trait. His developed structure is organized more positively about the given component with which he is more richly endowed than another. Thus, for the sake of illustration, it may be said that one individual is naturally more pugnacious or more curious than a second, or that a given person is largely lacking in the parental instinct. A second type of individual differences, however, is distinguishable although its relations to the first type are not easily determined. We refer here to what is frequently called a 'gift,' a natural 'aptitude,' or talent. These are regarded as names for specific traits. Contrasting this case with the differences of the first type, we note with respect to the latter that Human Nature and Social Forces 65 excessive deficiency would be regarded as abnormal or at least unusual. Thus a.person lacking in parental instincUve tendencies would be regarded as in some measure abnormal. But that one should lack some gift— musical talent, for example,— would not be taken as a sign of the least abnormality. This matter will engage our attention again later on, so it may now be dismissed with the remark that the complexity of the conditions upon which our activities depend makes very difficult tiie determination of tiie nature pertain- ing to these conjectural specific components. Environment The conditions of conduct represented by the activities of others and the natural order of things were lumped togetiier under the term environment. The distinction is commonly made between tiie physical and social environment. This requires examination. What is tiie difference between the social and the physical environment? How is tiie line drawn between them? We cannot base the distinction on a dif- ference between the "physical" and the "psychical " between the "physical" and tiie behavior of men. Environment in one sense is the universe as studied in the sciences of nature. But the human body, and accordingly the acts of that body, fall within this umverse. There is no peculiar integument tiiat cuts off tiie human body from the remainder of tiie universe. Physiology and neurology may find much III 1 I* " 66 The Basis of Social Theory in it that physics and chemistry do not. But the streams of change in "the creative advance of nature" run through the human body. The muscular act is prolonged in its consequences throughout the system of nature. From these considerations it follows that environment for the psychologist cannot be equated with the natural order as outlined by physical science. It is not that the psychologist's environment is an additional one: it is rather the natural order as con- ceived in terms of his own universe of discourse. The term "physical" then does not provide the necessary differentia. Yet we have insisted that psychological discussion cannot profitably move within the limits set by a psycho-physical dualistic concep- tion. What then can be offered as a way out of these difficulties? The solution lies in the recognition of the abstract and intellectual character of the distinc- tion between a physical and a social environment. As earlier discussion will have made clear, the difference between the social and the physical en- vironment is not to be construed as dividing environ- ment into two sets of facts. If the meaning of the adjective, the "social," be found primarily in the co-implication of activities, then the social environment is primarily constituted by the system of group ac- tivities and secondarily by the prolongation of the activities into things as shaped and re-shaped by man. But from the standpoint of natural science these ac- tivities and their consequences are as physical as anything else. The significance of the distinction is !lli Human Nature and Social Forces 67 discoverable in the light it throws upon the assertion that psychological facts are social facts. The propo- sition that the social environment is primary implies that growth from the constitution possessed at the start is fundamentally conditioned by the whole sys- tem of facts that forms group life. Even the new- born infant is, in one sense, a social fact! To note the primacy of the social environment is to discover the abstractness of the view that psychology is con- cerned with the mental states of an individual mind in an environment of physical stimuli. When intelli- gence is sufficiently awakened, and methods of inquiry have been developed, mind discovers the physical order; it finds that nature can be construed in its own terms. But for the naive mind, untinctured by science, there is no physical environment in the sense of a natural order with its own structure and independent of the configurations that impulse, desire, passion, and imagination would lend it. Psychologically considered, the social environment is for human conduct the primary fact. The infant appears in a world where nothing is "physical" and just that, where nothing appears in the stark skeletal inflexibility that is signalized by science. Everything is glowing with its relativity to the differentiations of life. "Things" are things that are owned, found, made, hated, feared, loved and sought after, hedged about with prohibitions or colored with possibilities of enjoyment, full of promise if action be aggressive or demanding prudent retreat. Things are nuclei of , ( |y# li 68 The Basis of Social Theory social relationships. Matter in its brute massiveness is the discovery that is to come. This is the primacy of the social environment. This is the milieu within which human nature is made. If the affinity of souls and their inter-communication by telepathy be ex- cluded from the universe of the psychologist, the fact that social relationships are imbedded in physical processes is a matter of importance where there is danger of turning psychology into romance. Other- wise it is a matter of no especial importance. 1 1 ; I Selective Action of Innate Structure This question may be approached by a considera- tion of the selective action of innate structure and the relativity of environment to original constitution and to the constitution of the organism as it concretely varies from moment to moment. Environment is not creative. If it effects anything it is because it affects something. That which is given at any moment for environment to affect is the organism — that is to say, the constitution given congenitally or the constitu- tion of the moment that represents the particular stage of growth attained. That the same stimulus should affect infant and adult in dissimilar ways is not surprising: it would be incredible that it could happen otherwise. That which is effectively and concretely the environment for a given individual at a given moment is a function of two factors: the organ- ism's total condition at the moment and that part of Human Nature and Social Forces 69 the sum total of conditions in the remainder of the universe that is relative to the conditions represented by the organism. Science may disclose that the envi- ronment as a natural order is far wider than this. But the whole range of nature is not the content of the environment at a given moment and for a given organism, as the "situation'' is understood by the psychologist. Of course, in so far as an individual possesses knowledge and takes advantages at each moment of the properties and meanings of things as revealed by science, then to that extent the envi- ronment for that individual is widened. This situa- tion points to the significance of imagination and intel- ligence and reveals the complications produced by them. But in principle there is no inconsistency between this imaginative enlargement of the envi- ronment and the principle of the selective or pref- erential function of innate and existent structure. As the sense-organs are selective, being by nature in- susceptible to some forces discovered by physics, and yet adapted to others, so all man's functions bear a selective character. Our innate tendencies can be regarded as related to certain features of environment. In so far as this is an accurate statement it means that such tendencies turn a process in nature into a portion of environment. A given tendency may remain more or less latent, because the natural occasions which call it into function are missing. Its appearance may be partial and unrecognized because the natural exci- tation is insufficient to lead to its exercise and fixation. I 70 The Basis of Social Theory And in general it is clear that there are as many "environments" as there are forms of life. For after all environment is a name for the extra-organic factors that must be included in a complete psychological description of the processes of behavior. If science asserts the unity and continuity of all nature; and if therefore the psychologist's description, although com- plete within the limitations of his universe of dis- course, falls short of pursuing throughout nature the trains of relationships which would be the object of a completed science of nature; then we should conclude that this consideration expresses the specialized and limited purposes of psychology and not an inherent defect. It were folly to give up psychology because it is not a philosophy of nature. Environment and Individual Differences Pursuing the same train of thought the conclusion is reached that there are as many environments as there are individuals. This indicates the viciousness of taking environment as an abstract fixed system or order of things. Without further insistence on the point, it should be noted that the conclusion of this discussion fits in with the assertion of the primacy of the social environment, or of the environment as socialized. Man picks and chooses, neglects or renders important, seizes and appropriates, alters and redirects, and in countless other ways affects the drifting play of surrounding forces. In this is ex- HuMAN Nature and Social Forces 71 pressed the cumulative effects of his social life. Nature too has a structure: and so limits are set to the manipulation of nature. And in the same way, for that matter, limits are set to nature's manipula- tion of man. Individual differences in original nature and in the individual at any stage add, accordingly, to the complexity of the selective action of man with respect to environment. A given environment may be more or less favorable for a given species— or more ac- curately a given set of natural conditions may deter- mine whether the environment is favorable or the reverse. In addition it may be more or less favorable for one individual as compared with another. If for the moment attention be directed to the environment as social, this is especially true. No two individuals meet the same conditions in any save the most general sense. Environment — conditions — repress or stimulate, modify in this way or that, original tendencies common to various individuals, giving results so different as almost to obscure the basic resemblance. Doubtless the environment can never create an aptitude where the organic conditions for its development do not exist. But it may be so un- favorable that the organic conditions never become manifest in the form of an aptitude or ability. It is possible that differences in the environments, affect- ing different original constitutions, may produce similar results. Again different native equipments will lead to individuals differing widely in capacities and traits, ! m 72 The Basis of Social Theory although the environments are as similar as possible. Finally, in a sense, individual differences of native equipment may be said to create or to produce salient differences of environment that otherwise would not be manifest. These differences, acting selectively, bring the individual in closer contact with one portion of the natural conditions rather than another. One gets out of it something that the other does not. As mind is organized, interests, resting on original dif- ferences, lead the individual to neglect some possi- bilities and to pick out and give prominence to others. This is, indeed, but one feature of the process by which man meets the environment and actively re- organizes it. The correlation of original nature and environment is therefore a matter of extreme com- plexity when considered in its concreteness. Social Forces With this discussion as a background the proper meaning of 'social force' or 'social cause' is made more clear. The causes of the variations in human activities have been outlined. These variations, whether they refer to differences found as we pass from individual to individual, from one group to other contemporary groups, or from one historical period to another, are reducible to two chief sets of causes, namely, original nature and the social environment. They may be described more particularly with ref- erence to individual variations in heredity, to possible Human Nature and Social Forces 73 changes in the constitution of the human type, to race, to differences in social systems, to differences in the environment in the abstractly physical sense, and finally to the cumulative effects of human activity crystallized in things. But such an enumeration, which might be carried into further detail, is unim- portant as compared with the recognition of the fact that these factors can be grouped as two. The assertion of the primacy of the social environ- ment and the discussion of the meaning of the term for the psychologist provides the necessary justifica- tion for the assertion that the three sets of conditions of conduct can be reduced to two. It is then within these two factors that the social forces must be found. In various ways it is occasionally held that human conduct and society are dominated by external forces. It is argued that the physical conditions call forth, guide, frustrate, or encourage this or that set of activities. Social organization is the result of physical conditions of a geographic, climatic, and the like character. This position is at bottom another illustra- tion of the tendency to depress the role of heredity and to elevate the efficacy of environment. But to call forth or to guide activity is not to create action. Pre- vious discussion makes clear that the so-called physical conditions are conditions within which human nature operates. Human nature and the social environment do not constitute a sphere of existence separate from the order of things discovered by physical science. But this is not to state that conduct and social life, i ! II I ■ 1 hi; I 74 The Basis of Social Theory institutions and moral practices, art and science, are created by these conditions. Perhaps this precise claim is not made. But if it is not, the emphasis comes at times perilously near it. We cannot dissever the physical and social environments and then explain the latter by the former. It is not the environment as physical fact that is significant, but its relation to the organism and the organism's relation to it. The physical environment as such can operate indirectly, but only indirectly, in social causation. It may inter- pose limits and force action into general conformity with it. It thus functions as a set of limiting con- ditions. But the physical environment is not, properly speaking, a social or psychological cause at all. In point of fact, the transition from an assignable set of physical conditions to a phenomenon of social order or individual conduct in society is effected only be- cause a tacit assumption is made concerning man. The genuine cause, in the form of desire, motive, feel- ing, purpose, what you will, is tacitly assumed, so that what really follows from the genuine cause appears to follow from the description of mere physical conditions taken in abstraction. Baldwin has given the name "socionomic" to the forces that "constitute the very important group of influences which condition social life and progress." ^ He speaks of them as ^extra-social' : they are not social forces in the strict sense. Among them he enumerates Group-Selection, Individual Selection, ^Social and Ethical Interpretations, 4th ed., 1906, p. 484. ■c Human Nature and Social Forces 75 Physiological Conditions, Physical Conditions. From the examination of these Baldwin reaches the con- clusion that they cannot be the cause of social changes, and that "only psychological sources of change can be called 'social forces.' " ^ To this might be added the statement that no conditions lying outside human nature itself can be taken as affording the explanatory ground of conduct and society. Institutions It is sometimes asserted that the study of human society can be conducted entirely in terms of the study of social institutions without reference to the native equipment of man. The individual, it is said, as a unity of such and such habits, sentiments, abilities, purposes, at a given moment, is a product of institu- tions. The study of society can accordingly be carried on by utilizing institutions as the basis of explanation. This position need not detain us. The fact that the institutions are social involves some assumptions con- cerning human nature as a cause. The institutions of society undoubtedly organize original endowment; the social fact is, so to speak, deposited in and carried on by 'physical' processes. Mind achieves this dis- covery. A given set of institutions, the set into which an individual is born, are conditions of the life of that individual. But institutions are not created by physical forces in the sense in which physical forces i^fhid., p. 490, f M I I w- 76 The Basis of Social Theory imply something extra-organic and extra-human. In institutions human nature faces its own objectification in variously specialized and more or less inadequate forms. We thus return to the position that the true social forces are given in human nature in the sense in which that has been defined in this chapter. CHAPTER III Inherited Tendencies and Action Original nature has been understood to mean the sum-total of our inherited tendencies, considered ab- stractly from the standpoint of the "constitution possessed at the start." It now becomes necessary to discuss the chief features of the components of orig- inal nature and to describe the scheme of action within which they function. Definition of Inherited Tendency "Inherited tendency" has been variously defined. It has been regarded as "an expression of the struc- ture of the nervous system," and as an "impulse re- leased by circumstances, which within limits deter- mines the process of growth." A tendency represents a force within a process of development, possessing a character of its own. Its operation will depend on the removal of interfering or inhibiting conditions, and upon the occurrence of the appropriate excitatory circumstances. In the development structural parts are established and organized and become manifest in actions. These actions express the tendencies cor- 77 '!) "I' il i 78 The Basis of Social Theory responding to such structural features. In original nature all tendencies are latent; they are mere poten- tialities of development. In so far as at any stage the organism's structure is made manifest in types of ac- tion, to that extent these potentialities are actualized. In neurological terms, inherited tendencies are names for aspects of the organization of the system as it becomes established. They are "inborn connections" within a system. If original nature be a conception, the basic meaning of which is the insistence on the determinate structure of the organism even at the beginning of its career, inherited tendencies are the predispositions to growth in distinctive ways. In principle, there is no more mystery in the fact that from the constitution pos- sessed at the start develops a being with a given array of instincts, capacities, and aptitudes than in the fact that from the same starting-point develops a wingless biped. It may be that the investigation of inherited tendencies as psychological factors leads primarily to the study of the nervous system. But the nervous system is after all a portion of the organism, and the situation is not altered in principle. Objective and Subjective Aspects Inherited tendencies are frequently said to possess two aspects. Objectively, the tendency can be studied in terms of structure and its expression in action. This structure is physiological and neurological; and Inherited Tendencies and Action 79 the action-expression is found in the behavior of the organism. The tendency, as it is resident in the organism at a given moment, possesses the character of a structural principle predisposing the organism to a type of action. Our present knowledge may be in- sufficient for a complete description of such struc- tures. The basis of a given tendency in the organism is not an isolated fact; and the operation of the tend- ency is not isolated. The functioning of each tend- ency involves the excitation of sense-organs, neural arcs, muscular mechanisms, and operations of per- haps many other organs of the body. The descrip- tion of the objective aspect of any tendency would ac- cordingly involve an account of many elements. The subjective aspect of the tendency has reference to the conscious aspects of the process. The feelings, desires, needs, sensations, and elements of that char- acter are implied by the term. The subjective aspect may be called, for present purposes, the tendency as felt impulse. In this chapter inherited tendencies will be studied objectively, i. e., from the standpoint of structure and the nature of action. Objective Aspect Objectively viewed every inherited tendency may be regarded as the disposition of a system of organs in the body to act in a given way in response to a given type of situation. The excitation of such a tendency occurs primarily through the excitation of (! I(! *^P"^ I 80 The Basis of Social Theory sense-organs ; the process so excited forms a cycle that ends with a muscular reaction. The expression of the tendency depends, therefore, upon the fundamental functions of the nervous system— its irritability, sensi- tivity, and conductivity. The physiological basis of a tendency is, accordingly, a system of neurological connections between a set of organs of excitation and of organs of action. The detailed investigation of the facts thus indicated would fall within the province of "physiological" psychology, i. e., a science continuous with physiology and neurology. With the neurological elements in mind, the tend- ency is often viewed as a "pre-formed pathway" in the nervous system. By this is meant that the organ- ism, as it grows, comes to possess a structure that is partially organized, or potentially organized, so that use rapidly completes this organization. That is to say, certain pathways are from the first more perme- able, more channeled, than others; various elements are so connected that the nerve current is conducted towards one terminus rather than another. This happens just because the organism grows into just this sort of thing possessing determinate structural features rather than into some other type of organiza- tion. This ease of connection expresses the structural characteristics of the organism and its correlated ac- tion tendencies. However the neurological facts may finally come to be conceived, these natural bonds or connections represent properties native to the partic- ular kind of organism that it is. Inherited Tendencies and Action 81 A warning against over-simplification is relevant here. An original tendency does not necessarily mean the connection of a given response with a given situation and with it alone; or of a given situation with a single response. The bonds connecting situa- tion and response may be such that for several situa- tions there is but one response or for a given situation several possible responses. Further, the original con- nections are susceptible of modification through ex- perience, in a manner to be discussed more fully later on. The stimulus-response conception as an analytic device or short-hand description is an abstraction and Its simplicity requires correction by recognition of this character. Inherited Tendencies as Habits Inherited tendencies are sometimes called "inher- ited habits." This expression is misleading if it con- veys the impression of something ready-made, if it suggests that the habit is somehow given in its totality from the first, independently of experience. This is indeed but a special case of the fallacious use of the distinction between learned and unlearned actions dis- cussed in the preceding chapter. Physiologically, the term mdicates the fact that inherited 'connections' make the formation of a habit comparatively easy wherever the habit involves a connection that is natu- rally laid down in the process of growth. Because an activity is 'unlearned' it does not follow that it is 82 The Basis of Social Theory given, functionally complete, in total independence of the excitatory influences of the environment. The "original ease of connection," of which Thorndike writes, does not mean a habit inherited in the literal sense, but ease in the establishment of a habit. Habits closely following lines laid down by such orig- inal tendencies to connection are formed with greater ease and rapidity than habits less closely affiliated with original bonds. The remark of James concern- ing instincts might be extended to cover all inherited tendencies. Speaking of the transiency of instinct, he states that "most instincts are implanted for the sake of giving rise to habits, and that, this purpose once accomplished, the instincts themselves, as such, have no raison d'etre in the psychical economy, and consequently fade away." ^ All inherited tendencies, we may say, lead to the formation of habits. Under appropriate inner and outer conditions the tendency appears and its exercise leads to the formation of habits. The fixation of the tendency in the form of habits as permanent items of our equipment is the result. But the fading away of the tendency is just this formation of habits. After what was stated in the preceding chapter con- cerning individual variations in original nature, it is unnecessary to revert to the matter. But there are several other points to be noted concerning our tend- encies. In the first place, these tendencies combine i Principles of Psychology, 1908, vol. II, p. 402. Inherited Tendencies and Action S3 in various ways, interfering with, or reinforcing, one another. There are serial orderings of tendencies in which the interconnections are so intimate that we may hesitate to say whether we have to do with one or several tendencies. Secondly, tendencies are modi- fiable, in varying degree, by environmental influences acting directly or indirecUy. In fact, no tendency can determine a response without undergoing some degree of modification. In experience the tendency is actualized and in the process made more specific. Thirdly, original tendencies do not appear all at once or on any given date. "Different original tendencies appear at different dates after the fertilization of the ovum. . . . Some are delayed only until birth; some, till long after birth. The order of appearance and tlje length of the intervals from the start of life to the appearance of each tendency are not random. Typ- ical conditions exist for man as a species, with, of course, very wide variations." ^ A given tendency may make its appearance with apparently startling suddenness; but this may mean only that the tendency has been slowly maturing and has finally reached functional readiness. The tendency does not appear in function, of course, until conditions are ripe. The appearance of a tendency in its functional complete- ness may follow a long series of anticipatory partial expressions that are indications of its presence and development. 2 Thomdike, op. cU., p. 245. 84 The Basis of Social Theory Finally, it is often said that tendencies wane just as they gradually mature. This is a matter difficult of interpretation. It would seem to apply, if any- where, to instincts. Thorndike has pointed out that a great deal of this assumed or apparent waning may not be decay so much as a disuse of a tendency owing to altered circumstances of life.^ Unless tendencies are organized into habits in the more plastic period of youth they are not apt to be easily noticeable factors in conduct. Whether this means their actual decay or simply their submergence beneath other habits and interests, while retaining the capacity for function if circumstances permit their emergence, it is not easy to decide. However this may be, the important point is that unless tendencies get organized into more or less stable systems — the consolidations represented by interests, sentiments and attitudes — these tendencies will have little part in conduct. Action, Drive and Mechanism Corresponding to the distinction made above be- tween the objective and subjective aspects of inherited tendencies there appears a distinction of problems. Attention may be directed to the bodily structure and to its activities, or to the tendency as felt, as want, need, desire, motive and conscious process. Professor Woodworth has provided a terminological distinction 8 Op. cit., pp. 264-269. Inherited Tendencies and Action 85 of utility in this connection. He uses the terms '^drive" and "mechanism" to indicate two aspects of tendencies.* Thus we have the problem of mechanism which is the problem of "how we do a thing." This, it may be suggested, is the problem of ^physiologicaP psychology, of a science of behavior. On the other hand, there is the problem of drive, or of "what in- duces us to do it." The first problem does not con- cern the social psychologist save in a secondary sense. The problem of drive is for him the more important, for here we enter the field of the motivation of con- duct. Impulses are not, as such, motives. They are the raw material from which motives are developed by the transformation of the crude original impulse. The primitive urgency of the instinctive tendency, for ex- ample, becomes enlightened with respect to its imma- nent character by experience of the results of its operation and these results are reflected back into the process. The exercise of memory, imagination, and intelligence causes the fusion of the impulse with ideational material. As the impulse becomes organized into motives, the primitive needs and desires, which mark the subjective aspect, become correspondingly transformed into ends and aims that are foreseen and consciously entertained. This transformation is ef- fected by social pressure, understanding by that term all the forces that come to be only because there is a group life. *C/. Dynamic Psychology, Columbia Univ. Press, 1918, p. 36. 86 The Basis of Social Theory Stimulation and Reaction Social Psychology, we have asserted, is concerned with the problem of the mechanism of action only in a secondary sense. But the point of departure for both the investigations of mechanism and of drive is the same. This is found in the proposition that man is primarily a creature of action: this proposition de- fines the general setting within which psychological inquiry moves. But this is to assert that the stimulus- reaction concept is primary for the psychologist. To the consideration of the relation of stimulus and re- action we must therefore turn. We are apt to think of the organism as essentially inert and as aroused to activity by environment. But the environment as such is not necessarily a stimulus. It is specific change in the environment, rather than just the bare existence of an environment, which con- stitutes a stimulus. The function of the stimulus is that of a detonator, a releasing cause. It does not, primarily, supply the energies of action. These are resident within the living system. The stimuli are occasions for changes in the course of activity, not causes of activity. They call into operation one or more inherited tendencies. And the stimuli, while evoking tendencies into function, give the natural channels of the tendencies a more particularized direction. At the moment of stimulation the organism is engaged in some form of action, with its own direc- Inherited Tendencies and Action 87 tion and character. The effect of excitation, conse- quently, is not that of the excitation of action, but of change in the form, direction, and character of activ- ity. The effect of stimulation depends, therefore, upon the inner conditions of this active being at the moment of excitation. Environmental change may have the effect of reinforcing the activity already go- ing on, or of diverting the stream of action into a new channel. Or, finally, the effect of stimulation may be the abrupt cessation of the activity of the preceding moment, followed by a period of activity having in view the adjustment to the altered situation, and issu- ing in a new line of activity. The activity of each moment is therefore a function of two variables: the environmental change and the inner conditions of the organism.^ Hence identical stimuli need not produce the same response. Furthermore, inherited propul- sive tendencies must not be considered as arousing the organism to activity. They express, rather, the ways in which the stream of action, flowing from the or- ^ On the side of the agent, there are three elements that influence the character of the response. (1) The particular stage of the ac- tivity present: the hungry man and one who is not hungry react differently to the stimulus of food. (I owe this point to Professor Dewey.) (2) The nature of the response depends on the modifica- tions brought about by the previous experience of the organism. (3) This factor is the result of a process of telescoping that occurs with the accumulation of experience. The serial unfolding of in- herited tendencies follows a definite pattern. But in time, as a result of modification, links in the chain may be omitted. Accre- tions of ideas and imaginative materials lead to short-circuits, and the process becomes independent of stimulation save in the initial stage. The response itself, at a given stage in the series, becomes the stimulus for the next stage. 88 The Basis of Social Theory ganism's structure, is differentiated. Instinctive tend- encies arise within the stream of action, and are re- sponsible for the ramifications of the stream. They are, indeed, merely names for characteristic modes of activity, for the expression of structure in action. Response as Developing Stimuli The correlation between stimulus and response works both ways. If the response depends on the stimulus, later stimuli reflect earlier responses. The response places the organism in an altered situation and thereby selects what shall be the next stimulus. Some reactions are deliberately made for the purpose of getting a new stimulation, of getting into touch with the situation in a richer and more efficacious way. We turn the head to get a better view, or to hear better, to illustrate by very simple cases. But lengthy courses of action may be undertaken for the same pur- pose. This is particularly true when the role of the many instruments developed by man for the supple- mentation of his sense-organs is considered.® As •Telescopes, microscopes, and the like illustrate how man supple- ments his sense-organs in order to secure a better stimulus. But there is a correlated activity whereby the use of the instrument is furthered. The microscope must be adjusted. To attain the better stimulus the muscular activity must be made more exact and deli- cate by the use of instruments which guide the action or supplant the use of muscles. Thus our response may consist mainly of start-- ing a machine. So man supplements his organs of action as he sup- plements his organs of sense; and this, not merely in the way of commanding greater energy but of utilizing energy in less wasteful Inherited Tendencies and Action 89 human life develops the material means which mark the grovrth of civilization, human response comes to be less and less determined by the physical properties of the stimulus itself, and more and more by the sign- values of the stimulus. The stimulus serves as a symbol, indicating further stimuli to come. It does this through its accretions of meaning. Scientific knowledge carries much further this process of giv- ing the stimulus an index value. This function of standing for meanings indicates that response is less attributable to the stimulus as a physical fact than to inner organization of the organism's powers upon which the use of meanings depends. Our inherited tendencies are given range and flexibility through this process that enlarges the significance of their correlated situations. The immediate stimulus may be, to select a trivial example, the grayness of the sky. But our response turns upon our ability to use that color, and other like elements of the situation, as signs of the coming rain. Hence the response takes the elaborated form of turning back to secure an um- brella; this means, in short, to take measures to meet an anticipated situation. Our response is directed toward the future. It is not directed toward the pres- ent stimulus except in the sense that the drift and im- plications of the momentary situation are taken ac- ways. Thus from the simple case of using a ruler in order to draw a line to the use of the greatest machines, there is throughout illustrated the principle of improving the stimulus in order to im- prove the response and of using response in order to get a better stimulus. I lU 90 The Basis of Social Theory count of so that the situation is viewed develop- mentally. Signs and Symbols as Artificial Stimuli These points are further illustrated by what might be called artificial stimuli. Civilization develops means of providing stimuli for the guidance of activ- ity and for guaranteeing appropriate response. Nat- ural processes are organized, or natural materials worked over, so that many activities may be checked, re-directed, or guided at the proper moments without the necessity of constant attention or forethought. An alarm clock secures a given response at the correct moment without protracted strain upon attention. The automobile horn, the whistle, bells, and innumer- able other systems of signals, are agencies of this type. These 'artificial' stimuli, dependent upon knowledge of some convention or rule of a particular society for their effectiveness, i. e., upon a knowledge of the spe- cific social situation, are especially common within the realms of vision and audition, the more important of the distance sense-organs. This affords more time and spatial security in taking advantage of the stim- ulus. But in addition to such signal systems, the whole collection of means of communication come within this group. The oral, written, or printed word, facial expression, gesture, sign-languages, and the like are the most important of these invented stim- uli. To these conventional stimuli are attached Inherited Tendencies and Action 91 conventional meanings and therefore relatively stand- ardized responses. They become so important and diversified that they finally constitute the most impor- tant feature of response within group life. The Role of Intelligence It is clear that this elaborate system of artificial stimuli, together with the instruments and tools of civilized man, depend upon the exercise of intelligence for their construction and for their efficiency in action. It might be said that all stimuli ultimately come to be artificial.' Stimuli are responded to in terms of their sign-values, their meanings. Such response is the mark and the function of intelligence. What is called scientific knowledge, in its practical applications, simply furnishes an immense enlargement and more exact estimation of the sign-value of a color, a sound, a taste or a smell. Starting with a given sensory ex- perience, knowledge enables us to foresee subsequent stimuli. The physician, taking account of symptoms, which consist for him of certain sensory experiences, diagnoses the case, foresees coming developments, and treats his patient accordingly. In general, our knowl- edge enables us to treat stimuli diagnostically. The cases of a person seeking an umbrella, of the physician planning his treatment, and of the astronomer prepar- ing years beforehand an expedition for the observa- tion of an eclipse are not essentially different when construed in terms of stimulation and response. Stim- 92 The Basis of Social Theory uli, thanks to the exercise of intelligence and the capacity for imagination, become loaded with symbolic values. The natural consequences of a given situa- tion become telescoped in imagination and the present sensory experience comes to serve primarily as a vehicle of meanings, an elaborate short-hand whose interpretation is the function of imagination. The stimulus becomes prophetic of the future because con- sequences of past responses to it are condensed and precipitated in imagination and associated with that stimulus. Reaction and Response The extent to which stimulation becomes freighted with this profit of the exercise of mentality varies. At the lowest level of action, there may be no trace of it. In reflex action and in reactions of a semi- automatic character, where stimulation leads directly to reaction, there may be no vestiges of influence due to higher powers, although in a general sense some modifications induced by experience may be present. It is proper to distinguish between the reaction that is reflex from the beginning and the habitual reaction which takes its rise from the exercise of capacities. The latter represent the profits of learning. At the other extreme we have the highly involved processes of skilled intelligence by which response is internally elaborated. It is worth while to indicate this differ- Inherited Tendencies and Action 93 ence, even though it be one of degree, by a distinction in terms. If the term ^behavior' be used to cover the entire field, the phrase ^immediate reaction' or simply 'reaction' may be reserved for those cases in which stimulation is immediately translated into action. And the term ^response' may be reserved for those cases in which the translation into action is delayed through the transforming function of intelligence. The term 'behavior,' then, covers all activity. The term 'con- duct' may serve as a name for the field of responses. But it should be observed that in point of fact these two types of behavior, reaction and response, go on together. The function of intelligence is to change the immediacy of reaction into indirectness of re- sponse. And yet this statement is but a partial truth. For this change from immediate reaction to a mediated process, effected by powers whose systematic totality may be called intelligence, is itself at bottom a prep- aration for the production of new immediate reactions. It is important on occasion that we check the tendency to immediate action, in order that we may "stop and think." The result, however, of stopping and think- ing, of examining and learning, is the formation of new channels of immediate reaction or the re-direction of the older ones. Learning, in short, provides for our tendencies additional forms of immediate reaction. But the exercise of the function of intelligence, that is, the inner elaboration of responses, can be maintained only on a substratum of immediate reactions. Situa- 94 The Basis of Social Theory tions really present many stimuli, not a single stimulus. Many of the component stimuli of the situation are neglected because they are in effect comparatively constant and common features of many situations. In any number of situations, however variable in other respects, there may be necessary such reactions as those concerned with bodily posture and the like. Obviously the reactions concerned with vital proc- esses, as breathing, must be common to all situations. Thus, while thinking is going on, a large number of lesser adjustments, 'reflexly' or ^habitually' made to aspects of the situation and involving the continuation of bodily functions, must be carried on. I may think as I walk: but here the indirect response is dependent upon the support of reactions enabling me to follow the path, avoid obstacles, and so on. Moreover, one important result of the exercise of intelligence is the formation of responses which can in turn be reduced to habits and so added to the consolidated system of reactions upon which the further employment of thought depends. It is noteworthy that the widening of the field of reaction through the development of indirect responses depends so much upon the inven- tion of instruments that either amplify and strengthen the senses, rectify their errors and control their use, or that add to the energy of action and extend its radius. Unless thought is disciplined by logic and methodological principles, instruments alone would be ineffective. But thought could hardly discipline itself unless such instrumental devices existed. Inherited Tendencies and Action 9S Inventory and Classification of Inherited Tendencies So far we have sought to explain what is meant by an inherited tendency and to outline the nature of the field of action in which these tendencies function. We must now turn to a different question, that of in- ventorying and classifying inherited tendencies. The discussion of this question will throw additional light upon their nature. Many difficulties beset the question and unanimity of opinion is not to be found. There are several reasons for this. In the first place we must recall what has been stated concerning the relation of original nature and nurture. Original tendencies are mere abstractions. As they are mani- fested in action they are already 'nurtured'; that is, they have been subject to environmental influences in ways both general and specific. Their first excitation occurs in a complex of conditions, extra- and intra- organic, and the precise form of their manifestation is thereby determined. To define the character of a tendency in its original purity, that is, as sheer poten- tiality, would require abstraction from all the effects of nurture and the isolation of the inherited factor as such. This would furnish the hereditary determinants in their purity: but these would then be irreducible units of analysis and not concrete existences. More- over, we cannot read back into original nature all in- dividual differences. For even those individual dif- ferences which are rooted in original nature are i 11 Mil ) If' I H i 96 The Basis of Social Theory subject to conditions determining the appearance of any tendency. Moreover, some individual differences are mainly ascribable to nurture, and there is no ob- vious way in which individual differences, developed out of a common fund of tendencies by variations in nurture, can be surely discriminated from those grounded on special variations in heredity. Such ex- actitude must probably be taken as a goal of further investigation. Inattention to these obstacles leads to a fallacy that might appropriately be called, in Professor Wood- bridge's phrase, the retrospective fallacy. There is error in uncritically reading back into the earlier stages of a process that which appears only in a later stage. To be sure, one must admit that there is dan- ger of an opposite fallacy, namely, the failure to note the grounds within germinal origins of that which is manifest at later periods. Those who deplore the tendency to assign to original nature without discrim- ination a ground for every fact of conduct are in so far forth correct. Doubtless the conjuror gets the rabbit out of the hat because he has previously placed the rabbit therein. But on the other hand nature is no conjuror. And in nature and in life legerdemain is replaced by potency and continuity. Nurture makes differences: but it produces differences not in a character-less non-entity but in that which has struc- ture, organization, and tendency. We inherit no tend- ency to use a typewriter, play a piano, or to be polyg- amists or monogamists. But musical ability is Inherited Tendencies and Action 97 generally admitted to be based on something inherited. Every ability must depend on inherited grounds. But to what extent specific provision for this particular ability is original is a matter of uncertainty. When, for example, we look upon musical ability as an inher- ited capacity, we can mean only that components, whose gradual establishment provides conditions that favor especially the acquisition of the concrete ability through effort and exercise, must be sought for in original nature. This is not a matter of merely verbal distinctions. It concerns the adequacy of the con- ceptual instrument of analysis. Musical ability is not something in general, but something, or several things, in particular. It probably implies more than one discriminable component. It implies the cumula- tive effects of many efforts and specific experiences. It seems to be excessively unlikely that Bachs and Beethovens are produced by the sorcery of any en- vironment whatever. We may despair of comprehend- ing fully what cosmic history lies back of their origins. At any rate, genius, according to a popular definition, is the ability to take pains — which suggests the role of experience. And, one might add, it is genius that takes pains — which suggests the role of heredity. An additional difficulty arises because there is also little agreement as to what constitutes a 'single' tendency. Taking the term in a more general sense, the various reactions of the same general type may be viewed as diverse manifestations of one and the same component. Thus one might speak of an instinct of ' 98 The Basis of Social Theory pugnacity and ascribe the variety of "pugnacious" responses to the unravelling influences of environment. Then all this class of reactions are asserted to be de- pendent upon a single but not very specific component that has received many proliferations and ramifica- tions through nurture. This standpoint would furnish a comparatively short list of tendencies. On the con- trary, the "instinct of pugnacity" may be treated as a short-hand expression for a number of specific in- herited tendencies — as many, perhaps, as there are distinguishable sub-classes of ^pugnacious' reactions. Each of these is taken as in natural correlation with a specific type of situation, although these classes of situations, from one point of view, form a general class. Here much of the proliferation is congenitally conditioned. According to the first position there are few inherited tendencies, rather general in character, and nurture turns each into a veritable sheaf of con- crete processes. That is to say, the specific character of response to narrowly defined situations is effected in and through experience. According to the second position, tendencies are many and specific. A solution of the controversy so based cannot be offered here unless the solution be in recognizing a difference of method in the two types of analysis. Ac- cording to the one, the analysis is to reach the simplest possible units of tendency; according to the other, descriptive flexibility is sought. This much seems clear: we cannot easily set limits to the extent to which the modifying influences of experience develop Inherited Tendencies and Action 99 new attachments of tendency to situations that at first had only a remote connection with that tendency. On the other hand, original nature assuredly defines the limits of what is possible. It must be true that anything that human beings do has its inherited basis; and the biologist must assume some measure of spe- cific correlation in the study of organism and environ- ment. Precision of thought in these matters awaits a survey, both more complete in detail and comprehen- sive in scope, of the facts that the biologist and stu- dent of heredity have taken in hand. Such variations in the opinions of authorities as are found, for ex- ample, in connection with the question as to whether man has more inherited tendencies, or fewer, than the animals are not surprising in the light of the above considerations. If we can split original nature into a multitude of inherited units, to be called, let us say, 'unit-reflexes,' these units must nevertheless be put together to be equivalent to the complicated patterns 01 human conduct. Such a lengthy list of units — with instincts and other ^tendencies' banished into the limbo of repudiated romances — seems to be the ideal for some investigators. Those who hold to this position, apparently, desire to lay the responsibility upon environment for the organization of these units into complex compounds. Thus, it would seem, we are to avoid insistence upon incredible and mysterious potencies latent in so humble a substance as germ- plasm. The reply to this is obvious: 'environment' now appears to acquire a magical power hardly to i! ! 1 II II ■ I 100' The Basis of Social Theory have been expected of the pressures, temperatures, gases, air-waves and ether-waves which are taken to be the indispensable media of communication. Stimuli, be they the behavior of human beings, social institu- tions, or whatever else, are just such things as pres- sures and air-waves. If we re-introduce into original nature certain characters that facilitate the compound- ing of the units into the larger organizations, as, for example, some "original ease of connection" that per- mits environment to construct the activities of an ani- mal out of simple unit-reflexes, then essentially all that the critic demands is accorded. If instincts be ban- ished into the limbo of unrealities, and behavior be built up out of unit-reflexes, nevertheless the building- up, the compounding and organizing of the units into vast action patterns, are facts about the units. The units are the sort of thing that can be so organized. If the units be originally atomic and insulated, whence their afiinities? How, precisely, can environment furnish all connections? If the affinities, the tend- dencies to linkage and organization, be attributed to the units, then in so far forth something more than atomic units is given originally. Original na- ture is the vehicle of something more than unit- reflexes. Exhaustive knowledge of ovum and sper- matozoon would doubtless afford a more accurate and less easily abused terminological equipment than is given by such terms as ^instinct,' ^reflex^ and the like. But while awaiting such knowledge, the logical situation is fairly clear. Doubtless the behavior of an Inherited Tendencies and Action 101 animal in following a trail, lying in wait, crouching, springing, devouring, etc., can be described in terms of reflexes; for, within limits, the description naturally expresses the method of investigation. But the limited success of a method in a field so complex as this hardly constitutes a demonstration of the finality of that method. Santayana asks: "Why should philos- ophers drag a toy-net of words, fit to catch butter- flies, through the sea of being, and expect to land all the fish in it?" "^ The question is pertinent — ^but the group referred to seems needlessly restricted. Thorndike in his list of criteria by which to esti- mate the "probable unlearnedness of a tendency" has given one of especial interest in this connection. "It is unlikely," he states, "that men will have a number of responses, each limited to a sharply defined situa- tion or group of situations, in cases where one re- sponse to some feature of many situations, will, when aided by the laws of habit, serve as well." ® The pre- ^ Character and Opinion in the United States, pp. 29-30. ®The remaining criteria are as follows: 1. "Any tendency to be- havior characteristic of mammals in general has at least some UkeU- hopd of existing originally in man." 2. "Any tendency characteristic of the primates in general except man, has some likelihood of ex- istence in man also." 3. "A tendency, which, though not found in man's animal ancestors, can be shown to have been a probable re- sult of likely variations of their original tendencies . . . has thereby increased possibility of being instinctive." 4. "Universality is not itself a proof of instinctiveness. But any widespread and easily in- hibited tendency which is harmful or useless under conditions of modem civilized life may be suspected of being original. . . ." 5. "McDougall suggests that if a tendency can become abnormally exaggerated without any general mental abnormality, the tendency is probably original." 6. "It is unlikely that the original connec- Ml 102 The Basis of Social Theory sumption is, of course, that the simpler hypothesis is the more probable hypothesis. This criterion is im- portant, for the issue is largely concerned with the question of the extent to which inherited tendencies are responses to several sharply defined types of situ- ations or to some one feature common to many situa- tions. And, in case some tendencies possess the one and others the other character, the functions of the tendencies in the processes of nurture will differ ac- cordingly. Where responses are furnished for sharply defined situations or elements of situations, the impor- tance of learning and adaptation through training will be comparatively little; but where the original response is to a general feature of many situations varying in detail, or where the tendency is non-specific, the more precise adjustments will depend upon nurture. In general the principle obtains that the more deter- minate the connection of tendency and situation, the less modifiable the tendency. Classification of Tendencies The classification of inherited tendencies shows similar uncertainties.* Classifications may be made tions are ever between an idea and either another idea or a move- ment.*' 7. "It is unlikely that an object or act produced by hu- man leammg . . . should provoke to any responses peculiar to it " (Op. cit. pp. 22-26). »The following classifications are offered as illustrations: The first is Kirkpatrick's (quoted from Thomdike, op. cit., pp, 20S-6) I. Individualistic and Self -Preservative Instincts; Feeding; fearing; fighting Inherited Tendencies and Action 103 on the basis of various principles, and none are apt to satisfy all demands. Satisfactory classification re- quires, first, knowledge of the type of situation with which the tendency is naturally related; second, the type of action to which it naturally leads; and finally, II. Parental Instincts: Sex and courtship instincts; singing; self -exhibition ; fighting for mates; nest-building m. Group or Social Instincts: To arrange themselves in groups; to cooperate for the common good in attack and defense; seeking companion- ship; desiring the approval of the group which one joins; pride; ambition; rivalry; jealousy; embarassment ; shame IV. Adaptive Instincts: Tendency to spontaneous movement; tendency for nervous energy to take the same course that has just been taken; tendency to imitate; tendency to play; tendency to curi- osity V. Regulative Instincts: The moral tendency to conform to law; the religious ten- dency to regard a higher power VI. Resultant and Miscellaneous Instincts and Feelings: The tendency to collect objects of various kinds and to enjoy their ownership; the tendency to construct and destroy and the pleasure of being a power or cause; the tendency to express mental states to others of the species and to take pleasure in such expression; the tendency to adornment, and the making of beautiful things, and the aesthetic pleasure of contemplating such objects Warren classifies reflexes under the following heads and lists in- tincts as given below: Reflexes A. Purest — least subject to central modification in adults (e.g., pupillary, hand-withdrawal to heat and pain, snoring, shuddering, etc.) B. Largely pure — subject to inhibition or reinforcement (e.g., winking, eye-fixation, hiccoughing, sneezing, etc.) i ii 1^ 111 104 The Basis of Social Theory the feelings, if any, that normally accompany its exer- cise. Given sufficient knowledge, classifications might be based, presumably, on characterisUc stimuli, or response, or nature of the inner organic process. Most classifications seem to be made on the basis of function in action. The difficulties of this, however, are obvious. The uncritical assumption of tendencies C. Occasionally pure, more often centrally modified (coughinir. swallowing, gulping, functioning of sex organs, weeping, scowling, smiling, etc.) D. Pure in infancy, centrally modified in adults (e.g., sucking, biting, spitting, hunger and thirst reflexes, vocal reflexes, etc.) ^ E. Posture reflexes (e.g., holding head erect, sitting, standing, equUibraUon) ^* INSTINCTS I. Nutritive Metabolic expressions Walking Feeding Wandering (hunting) Acquiring (hoarding) Cleanliness n. Reproductive Mating (sexual attraction, courtship) Maternal Filial (of infancy) ni. Defensive Flight Subjection Hiding Avoiding Modesty (shyness) Clothing (covering) Constructing (home-mak- ing) IV. Aggressive Fighting Resenting Domineering Rivahy V. Social Organization Family (parental filial) Travel (Gregarious) 'Apopathetic* Sympathetic Antipathetic Cooperative and Inherited Tendencies and Action 105 to correspond to assumed functions is the ground of much recent criticism of the very notion of instinct. What precisely is a single function? What shall be included in a given function? What is the common function in many more or less similar activities, and to what extent can we refer to the existence of an in- herited tendency as the natural basis for it? It is claimed in criticism that we are committed to a circular argument. By examining what men actually do we discover what we take to be their chief functions. We then assign to human nature corresponding tendencies. These tendencies, finally, we take to be the explana- Warren adds to this a list of "Instinctive Tendencies," as foUofirs: Imitativeness, Playfulness, Curiosity, Dextrality, Aesthetic Expres- sion, Communicativeness. {Human Psychology, pp. 100-110.) Woodworth (Psychology ch. VIII) classifies instincts in three groups, namely, responses to organic needs, responses to other per- sons, and play responses. Under the first are listed: Instincts con- nected with hunger; breathing and air-getting; responses to heat and cold; shrinking from injury; crying, fatigue, rest, and sleep. Under the second are: Instinctive responses to other persons, «uch as the herd instinct, the mating, the parental or mothering in- stinct. The third group includes playful activity, locomotion, manipulation, vocalization, exploration or curiosity, tendencies run- ning counter to exploration or manipulation, laughter, fighting, self- assertion, submission. While the inventory of Kirkpatrick is quoted by Thomdike ap- parently as a Ust of "original tendencies," the latter gives later his own working arrangement in which, classifying tendencies to con- nect situation and response according to character of response, he presents the following: tendencies resulting in sensitivities, in at- tention, in gross bodily control, in food-getting and habitation, in fear, fighting and anger, in human intercourse, in satisfaction and discomfort, in minor bodily movements and cerebral connections, in the emotions and their expression, in consciousness, learning and remembering. The inclusion of attention, consciousness, leammg and remembering, shows that Thomdike is providing an inherited basis for the higher functions. (Op. cU., p. 43). •mmmm i fit 106 The Basis of Social Theory tion of these activities. It not this a circle? The reply can hardly be other than that it is circular; but it may properly be insisted that it is formally but not materially a circle. How, indeed, can we discover the functions of any form of life save by examining its be- havior, that is, what appears to be its functions? Are we not led to discriminate structural units precisely by following the indications given in functioning? The criticism has this merit: it warns the inquirer not to be hasty in analysis and to assign tendencies to orig- inal nature only in the light of criteria that are intelli- gible and grounded in relevant knowledge. But if we are to study human nature and to utilize the concep- tion of an inherited equipment, there is no escape from this methodological difficulty. Inquiry must move back and forth from actual behavior to inherited structure and from the latter back to behavior. There is in this criticism an explanation of the difficulties underlying the inventorying and classification of orig- inal tendencies, but no demonstration that the task is impossible or the conception valueless. A perusal of the lists of tendencies found in cur- rent texts will illustrate the preceding discussion. The most noticeable feature of these lists, however, is their virtual limitation of the content of original na- ture to reflexes and instincts. This seems to reflect popular usage, which frequently takes inherited na- ture as equivalent to instinctive equipment. Anything that is inherited is vaguely called instinctive, even gifts and talents. This usage is in part the expression Inherited Tendencies and Action 107 of older notions concerning the opposition of instinct and the 'higher faculties,' combined with the assump- tion that that which is instinctive is uneducable or es- sentially not in need of education. If, however, the dualism of the inherited and the acquired be rejected, original nature, or inherited tendencies, are terms pointing to certain conditions underlying all activities. These conditions are intra-organic, and their history is the history of the development of the organism from its origin in a fertilized cell, not to mention the history that would include the development of all life. That which is original in a given tendency, we have said, may be conceived as a structural characteristic of the organism, implying a certain sensitivity, a more or less complex mechanism, and its operation a certain type of response. Such a characteristic, in terms of its natural history, must be referred back to the prop- erties of the fertilized ovum. And when the notion of original nature is used as a limiting concept, such properties alone are strictly original. This statement indicates how the interest of the psychologist links up with the interests of physiologists, embryologists, and biologists. Granting this, it follows that we have to seek in the organism some original conditions for every type of activity, whether 'reflex,' 'instinctive,' or of the type that is referred to the 'higher faculties.' It is difficult to see why some types of activity should be referable to an inherited basis while others should not. There is assuredly nothing speculative in such a point of view. The really surprising thing is that til \\ 108 The Basis of Social Theory common usage of terms should fail to suggest so ob- vious a connection. Unless we are to assume that some psychological phenomena are not statable at all in terms with a bodily denotation and connotation, the conclusion that all processes have an organic basis and therefore an inherited basis can hardly be avoided. To perceive, attend, learn, remember, imagine, think, will, to experience emotion, pleasure or pain, — all these and others are functions or activities of the hu- man being. They are made possible by its structure. They have their roots in original nature. This does not mean that we can assign to original nature just so many components as there are text-book terms for the classification of the material studied. Text-book dis- tinctions between perception, memory, imagination, and similar distinctions have their justification, pre- sumably, in the nature of the processes and in con- venience. To assert the existence of an inherited tendency to remember because remembering occurs is as illegitimate as the assertion of a faculty of mem- ory to correspond with the facts of remembering. The faculty psychology, however, was defective not because it posited conditions for various types of activity but because the conditions assumed were un- real. In so far as the faculty psychology asserted that conditions for the activities of a being must be found within the nature of the being, to that extent the doctrine is a logical truism. Its objectionable char- acter resides in its implied divorce between the faculty as expressing the nature of the being and the Inherited Tendencies and Action 109 specific facts and events constituting the given type of activity; and besides, in the questionable meta- physical doctrines involved and the isolated imiverse of discourse suggested. The reference to original nature, however, is only in form similar to the faculty psychology. There is no implied divorce of tendency or innate condition and specific data, and its universe of discourse is continuous with that of the sciences of living beings. Just what principles of analysis and classification are to be followed in securing a satis- factory inventory and classification of congenital ten- dencies are matters to be discovered. In the final analysis, however, thought must pass from activities and functions to original nature, just as the orthodox psychology passes from the phenomena of conscious- ness to aspects of nerve processes as the neurological correlates of these phenomena. Investigation may establish a perfect correlation between elements or features of organic structure and elements or features of the fertilized cell. The accomplishment of this will not make the assertion that all activities of the human organism depend upon its constitution any the less a truism. But it will render the truism specifically intelligible. There is little reason for so much insistence upon the contention that the human being's functions de- pend upon constitution, and that constitution depends upon the ^constitution possessed at the start,' except that the truism is continually forgotten. Terminology, at least, frequently fails to imply the dependence of 110 The Basis of Social Theory capacities and abilities upon differential factors in original nature. To assign original components for reflexes, or for reflexes and instincts, but not for all other processes, is simply to translate into naturalistic terms the ambiguities attaching to the conception of man as a rational soul with an inner array of faculties externally attached to a bodily machine with animal powers and proclivities. But if there be a natural history for the pupillary reflex, or vocal reflexes, why not for imagination and thought? If this be feared as an overloading of original constitution, is it not suggested by the facts and by the implications of scientific method? Wallas on the 'Terminological Plane' Graham Wallas has protested against the obstacles, created by the peculiar conditions of the history of psychology, that prevent a more synthetic view of human nature. He advocates the use of the term 'disposition' to cover everything in inherited nature, and thus to secure the projection of every element upon the same 'terminological plane.' He notes that the "habits of ordinary speech and the traditional presen- tation of their subjects by writers on psychology have made it unnecessarily difficult to combine and compare such facts as that men feel pain, make calculations, and act in obedience to the impulse of anger. Pain is generally examined by close introspective attention to its momentary character, and is therefore generally Inherited Tendencies and Action 111 spoken of as a fact of consciousness. Rational calcu- lation is generally approached by the 'logical' method of testing the validity of its various forms. . . . Anger is one of those instincts which have been 'explained' during the last fifty years by the reference to the course of human evolution. It is therefore spoken of as a fact in human or animal inherited structure. It is only when we project all three facts on the single plane of structure, and speak of the three dispositions to feel pain, to reason, and to become angry that the combination and comparison of such factors in any given social problem becomes easy." ^^ Accepting this point of view, we include within original nature tendencies to all the higher types of activity. There are, then, dispositions that somehow lead to memory, attention, thought, and the like. It must be admitted that since these activities are not simple it is not easy to determine satisfactory units or dispositions to which they are to be reduced. What this discussion is aimed to secure is the statement of a problem, and a point of view; it does not presume to offer a solution. In fact, the problem is primarily one for settlement in terms of biological, embryological and physiological data. The difficulties of inventorying the 'higher proc- esses' on this basis may be briefly illustrated. Habit- formation implies a disposition, one might say. But if habit-formation means the plasticity of the nervous system, and represents a property of all nerve tissue, i» The Great Society, N. Y., 1914, pp. 22-3. ill 112 The Basis of Social Theory then habit-formation conditions the operation of every tendency or disposition. Instinctive tendencies and processes of thought give rise to habits. In current text-books, memory and imagination are frequently connected with the plasticity of the nervous system. In consequence of this, we must assume, on the one hand, that man inherits a disposition that leads to the formation of habits; and, on the other hand, that this disposition is involved in every process whatever. Thus, if plasticity be a disposition at all, it is exces- sively general. Again, attention may be taken in illustration. This 'original attentiveness,' if listed as a disposition, can be looked upon as a factor in- volved in the operation of all other dispositions. Thorndike states that "the features which are so selected for special influence upon man . . . are sub- stantially covered by the rule that man is originally attentive (1) ^^ sudden change and sharp contrasts, and {2) to all the situations to which he has further tendencies to respond'* ^^ The number and variety of human dispositions, plus their great modifiability and their possibilities of combination, lead to the dis- tribution of attention over a vast field that otherwise man would not attend to. The direction of attention from moment to moment, its specific attachments, would appear to be due to the connection of attention with the operation of other tendencies and their rami- fications. In general, then, if we are to recognize habit and attention as inherited tendencies, they must *i Op, cit., p. 46. Inherited Tendencies and Action 113 be regarded as very general and non-specific and pos- sessing the most intricate connections with other items of our inherited endowment. With the previous discussion in mind, the reader will not expect an acceptable classification and in- ventory of inherited tendencies to be furnished here. Some classification, however, is necessary as a matter of convenience in further discussion. Such a classi- fication is provided by grouping tendencies into Re- flexes, Instinctive Tendencies, and Capacities, includ- ing within the latter specialized aptitudes of which more will be said later. The dividing lines between these groups are not fixed. This is especially true of the line between reflexes and instinctive tendencies. Writers who look upon instincts as chains of reflexes would naturally tend to regard the former as analyz- able into units of reflexes constituting the complex patterns, and therefore would consider the distinction as a matter of degree of complexity and organization. Others would insist upon the existence of a qualitative difference between the two groups. Taking, however, the classification as a matter of expedience, and put- ting the groups upon the same terminological plane, the groups may be distinguished, roughly, as follows: Reflexes, Instinctive Tendencies, and Capacities Reflexes, it may be said, are as a class far more spe- cific in function than the others. The type of situ- ation for which a given reflex is normally the appro- Ill 114 The Basis of Social Theory priate response is definable in comparatively exact and narrow terms; or rather, the stimulus, which may be an element of many situations, can be so defined. For such reflexes as the pupillary, the swallowing, sneezing, or knee-jerk reflexes, a stimulus of definite character can be assigned. The stimulus may be a change in the amount of illumination, the irritation of a particular membrane, or the like. Reflexes, more- over, are less modifiable than other tendencies. As a class they are less controllable, less flexible and pliable, than the other groups. They represent simpler struc- tures, as a rule; many, if not all, are relatively local- ized. On the whole they are concerned with a portion of the bodily apparatus and its operation rather than with the operation of the body as a whole. The sta- bility and specificity of reflexes are correlated with the more stable and universal specific elements of situa- tions. Some elements of change in the environment, for example, changes in illumination, are features of countless situations that may vary indefinitely in other respects. Thus the reflexes connected with the use of the eyes are implicated in the total response to many situations. The nature of reflexes, accordingly, insures their utility in many situations, in correlation with the fact that some environmental factors are practically imiversal in distribution. The peculiar utility of re- flexes, however, points to their limitations. Their cor- relation with environmental elements is so relatively fixed that they provide little room for choice, and little Inherited Tendencies and Action llS room for adaptation to other uses. They occupy but a narrow time— interval, and so contrast with instinc- tive tendencies. Compared with reflexes, instinctive tendencies are more modifiable, flexible, and controllable. They are more complex processes and are apt to involve a wider system of musculature. They are connected with the functioning of the organism as a whole rather than with the functioning of its parts. With respect to function and to the type of situation with which they are connected, instinctive tendencies lack the specific character of reflexes. For such tendencies as curi- osity, pugnacity, and play we must assign functions describable only in rather general terms. With re- spect to situation, we find that for any given instinct the stimulating situations vary in detail and resemble one another only in general features. Pugnacity, for example, even in animals may be aroused by a variety of situations: when they are compared, their common feature may be only some such general one as this, that each situation represents the impeding or inter- ruption of some impulse or action. Correlated with this lack of specific restriction of function is the modi- fiability rendering the tendency adaptable to the de- tails of situations and adjustable to alterations in the conditions of life. Instinctive tendencies thus corre- spond to the generalized character ascribed to the structure of the human organism. Reflexes may therefore be regarded as highly con- 1 1 116 The Basis of Social Theory stant responses to comparatively fixed and specific features of the environment or recurrent conditions in the bodily economy. Instinctive tendencies, how- ever, are responses adapted to more general features or to recurrent types of situations of wide import for life activities. While recurrent, the types of situa- tions to which instinctive tendencies correspond are less fixed in rhythm and more subject to chance and circumstance. (We neglect certain interesting ex- ceptions.) Reflexes require so little exercise for their establishment that they, especially, seem to deserve the predicate 'unlearned.' Instincts require a greater period of growth for their maturation and a greater amount of exercise before they proliferate into es- tablished habits. As they are more modifiable, they reflect in any individual the experiences of that in- dividual; reflexes, in a sense, reflect the process of growth as a whole, but to a much smaller extent are they shaped by the character of individual ex- perience. Individual will differ from individual, and race from race, less with respect to reflexes than with respect to instincts; and presumably, less with respect to instincts than with respect to capacities. This is simply to express the likelihood of greater variability of tendencies that correspond with the less specific and more generalized structural features. Finally, with respect to the subjective aspects, there will be diiBferences between the two groups. The class of instinctive tendencies, as the term is here used, includes some tendencies whose function is Inherited Tendencies and Action 117 so general in character that they have been given a special grouping by some authors. Thus McDougall ^^ selects tendencies "of a many-sided and general nature," such as Sympathy, Suggestion, Imitation, Play, and Temperament, to constitute the class of "general or non-specific innate tendencies." It seems preferable, however, to group these with the instinctive tendencies, and then to sub-divide the latter into instinctive tendencies of the more specific type and those of the more general type. These differences lead to various classifications by students of the sub- ject. Some, for example, would regard walking as an instinct; others as a set of reflexes. If it be an in- stinct, it is less general in character than jealousy or the parental instincts. It seems desirable to rec- ognize that instinctive tendencies vary widely in modifiability, adaptability, and determinate character, and to retain practical simplicity of classification by making this admission rather than by carrying sub- groupings very far. A simple distinction between the Capacities and the Instinctive Tendencies cannot be instituted with- out running grave risks. The distinction could hardly be made precise save on physiological grounds and it is doubtful whether this is now practicable. Our capacities, as conditions of action, are related not so much to types of situations capable of simple description and classification as to the processes or adjustment as a whole. If we can establish a general ^^ Intro, to Social Psychology, Uth ed., 1921, ch. IV. ! ( !|i| 118 The Basis of Social Theory parallel between inherited endowment and organic structure, the capacities must be viewed as the parallels of the most generalized features of that structure and consequently of its least pre-determined activities. Thus capacities are conditions permitting the carrying out of instinctive impulse in ways in which they could not be carried out in the absence of such capacities. To have a tendency to form habits is to possess a tend- ency of such a character that while in itself non- specific it may be made specific in countless ways in and through experience. Even if we include within native constitution the special aptitudes forming the basis of skill, these aptitudes are given only as a special sensitivity of certain structures, an unusually rich provision for the organization of complex activities; but all the capacities— habit, attention, and the like- are concerned with the development of the aptitude. The aptitude is not necessarily to be conceived as a special endowment provided for a specific purpose- let us say, becoming a fine violinist. The aptitude may be a set of variations within the capacities assur- ing the possessor of ease of adjustment to certain con- ditions; the set, as a set, may constitute a pre-disposi- tion towards the attainment of skill in this or that line of action. Thus, in general, our capacities are simply components or differentiations of what may be called adaptability, while their specific operations are connected with the functioning of our other tendencies amid the interminable detail of experience. It cannot be said of cap^pities that they are modified, con- I iNHE^fED Tendencies and Action ii§ trollable, or educable — they are rather the prime con- ditions of all modifiability and educability. Their utility lies in their lack of limited relation to types of situations. In function they differ in these ways from instinctive tendencies, but in a sense of complemen- tariness and supplementation, not of opposition. A more complete justification for this manner of viewing inherited tendencies will be given in the course of later discussion. The classification just given will receive further elucidation in subsequent chapters. In particular, the meaning of instinctive tendencies and of capacities will become clearer as the investiga- tion of their respective functions is carried on. What- ever the objections to the preceding classification of tendencies, it is sufficient if it serves the purpose of orientating further discussion. It I iiij iiiii I CHAPTER IV The Function of Instinctive Tendencies Inherited Tendencies in the Stimulus-Reaction Cycle When inherited tendencies are considered in the light of the preceding chapter, their place in the stimulus-reaction cycle can be viewed as follows: Our capacities and abilities constitute the basis of the possibility of indirect reaction or response. The checking of reaction, the internal elaboration of a plan of action, and the distribution of energies in new directions would be impossible unless we possessed the powers denoted by such terms as attention, memory, imagination and foresight. The invention of the in- strumentalities of symbols, signs, and tools, and the capacity to make use of them depend upon the establishment of these powers resident in human na- ture. On the other hand, the tendencies that are generally called instinctive represent the chief drives in action. They determine the dominant interests of life and consequently the main courses of action. The answer to the question of why we act in ways univer- sally characteristic of men— why we pursue similar ends— is found mainly in our equipment of instinctive 120 The Function of Instinctive Tendencies 121 tendencies. The problem of the varying manner in which the same drive works out in action is bound up with the functioning of our capacities, and its consider- ation is for the time being postponed. Here we take the position that instinctive tendencies represent the chief aspects of the structural plan of human nature in so far as it is regarded as an organized reacting system. They indicate the primitive ways in which the organism is given its motor set. It is precisely through the functioning of our capacities that these tendencies undergo alteration that transforms them into systems of response. Every hypothetical unit called an instinctive tendency is subject to modifica- tion through the presence, in the total system, of con- ditions upon which the so-called higher functions depend. The objections that would naturally arise in opposition to the role assigned to instinctive disposi- tions above lose their point when the inter-function- ing of these tendencies and capacities is properly understood. In the cycle of action from stimulation to reaction and back again to stimulation, instinctive tendencies are the primary forces and the chief dif- ferentiations in the stream of activity. Definition of Instinctive Tendency According to the plan being pursued, instincts and the so-called general tendencies of an instinctive character are being treated as one group, comprising some that are more and some that are less specific. Ill 122 The Basis of Social Theory Some definitions will, others will not, cover the whole group. Definitions of instinctive tendency vary, of course, according to the point of view from which they are devised. The samples, listed below,i when 1 "The instincts are complex naUve reacUons composed of a num- ber of native reflexes chained together in such a way that they lead to an adjustment of the organism as a whole to some outer situation. Breese, Psychology, Scribner, p. 399). Watson defines instinct as an hereditary pattern reaction, the separate elements of which are movements principaUy of the striped muscles. It might be otherwise expressed as a combination of explicit congen- ital responses unfolding serially under appropriate stimulation." {Psychology, Lippincott, pp. 231-2). "An inherited reaction of the senson-motor type, relatively complex and markedly adapUve in character, and common to a group of individuals." (Baldwin's Diet, hf Phil, and Psy. art. Instinct). By Judd instmct is spoken of as an 'mhented complex of coordinated parts." {Psychology 2nd ed., Ginn and Co., p. 138). Pillsbury notes threi distinct uses of the term that are current. First, to desig- nate "a more complicated reflex, or one that in its variability in some degree approaches the voluntary act"; besides, there is "an implication in instinct that we are dealing with something that is or might be conscious. . . . Instinct in this sense is a movement made in response to a stimulus or a group of stimuli as a result of inherited connections in the nervous system, a movement more complicated than a reflex, either in the number of stimuli that called it out, or in the number of muscles that are coordinated m Its execution." Secondly, a much broader use of the term makes reference "not to some specific response, but to the fact that move- ments which may vary with surroundings are carried out to the attainment of some general end." Pillsbury adds that this latter usage "covers a much larger number of instincts in man and the higher animals than does the simple act or group of acts." Finally, "a third common use . . . covers a class of activities which are still less definite in character. In the extreme instances of this class little is determined by inheritance other than that the desired end shall be attained. The attainment may be by any method that previous experience or the acquired habits shall dictate. Here belong very many if not most of the complicated instincts mani- fested by the human adult." (Fundamentals of Psychology MacmiUan, 1916, pp. 421-424). Stout remarks tha^ wb^tpver else i< The Function of Instinctive Tendencies 123 taken together indicate the principal points involved. The variations in these definitions depend on the background that is dominant. Some are primarily biological, others indicate the insufficiency of defini- tions from this point of view alone. The contrast between those ^ who desire to analyze the group of instinctive tendencies into the simplest possible units and those who emphasize the organized unity of an instinctive tendency with its general end is responsible for some of the variations in definition. In the most important recent study, Drever's Instinct in Man," the results of the psychological and biological investigations of the nineteenth century are summarized in the following definition: "As a factor determining the behaviour of living organisms, instinct may mean, it at least implies "that the bodily action or mental process is not acquired through experience but that it has its source in inborn constitution. . . ." But more specific dif- ferentia are needed. From the biological standpoint, instinct "dis- tinctively consists in a special pre-adaptation of the nervous system congenitally determined so as to give rise to special bodily actions in response to appropriate stimuli." To include the psycho- logical factors it must be added that "reflex action is of a nature fundamentally different from instinctive conduct." The difference is that instinctive conduct implies intelligence. "The course of the instinctive activity is throughout guided by and adjusted to complex and variable combinations of different sense impressions . . . Instinctive movements from the outset bring into play whatever mental activity the animal is capable of." {Manual of Psychology, 3rd ed. 1915, Bk. Ill, Pt. I, ch. 1). McDougall's definition is as follows: "An inherited innate or psycho-physical disposition which determines its possessor to perceive, and pay attention to, objects of a certain class, to experience an emotional excitement of a particular quality upon perceiving such an object, and to act in regard to it in a particular manner, or at least, to experience an impulse to such action." {Op. cit., p. 30). 124 The Basis of Social Theory Instinct, physiologically regarded, is a congenital pre- disposition of the nervous system, consisting of a definite, but within limits modifiable, arrangement and coordination of nervous connections, so that a partic- ular stimulus, with or without the presence of certain cooperating stimuli, will call forth a particular action or series of actions; this predisposition, biologically regarded, is apparently due to the operation of natural selection, and determines a mode of behaviour, which secures a biologically useful end, without foresight of that end or experience in attaining it." ^ Drever, how- ever, insists that the biological account must not be mistaken for the psychological. Psychologically, in- stinct is impulse, the conscious impulse "when and so far as it is not itself determined by previous experience, but only determined in experience, while itself deter- mining experience, in conjunction with the nature of objects or situations determining experience as sensa- tion." 3 From this it follows that instinct cannot be opposed to intelligence. But the only knowledge characterizing the operations of instinct is the sort in- volved in the perceptual consciousness. "Psycholog- ically the only possible interpretation of instinctive behaviour seems to be in terms of specific impulse determining specific act, on presentation in perceptual consciousness of a specific situation." * In addition, however, to these psychological aspects of instinct,' * Drever, Jas., Instinct in Man, Cambridge, 1917, p. 81. ^Ibid., p. 88. *Ibid., p. 107. The Function of Instinctive Tendencies 12 S Drever finds that there are others to be counted as essential. Every first instinct-experience involves what is called primary meaning, as distinguished from secondary meaning or significance. Primary meaning is present from the first; it might be called instinct- interest, and is affective in character.** This interest factor is "the universal characteristic of behaviour- experience. It is also the primary meaning of a situa- tion, in that it is the immediate consciousness of a re- lation between self and presented situation, a relation that is primarily jelt.'*^ The meaning of the per- ceptual situation is "primarily in its relation to my aim, purpose, or 'need' at the moment, which rela- tion defines itself in consciousness as the interest of the situation." ^ This interest is also described as a feeling of worth-whileness, which may suffer a transi- tion to satisfyingness or dissatisfyingness. Subjective Aspect It is clear that Drever is correcting the externality of the biological view by emphasis upon the subjec- tive aspect of instinctive tendency. This subjec- tive aspect is most conveniently covered by the term "impulse." The term is used in several senses. Taken broadly, it refers to all action. A more narrow usage of the term contrasts impulse with reflective ^Ibid., pp. 130, 136. ^Ibid., p. 141. "^Ibid., p. 140. ! I I ..I i 126 The Basis of Social Theory activity, as referring to action without foresight of the end in view and deliberation concerning means. Thus it is opposed to intelligent action. This leads to a third usage, not very precise, in which impulse implies uncertainty, disorganization, disequilibrium. The term "feeling" has been frequently used in the same connection. Just what shall be included in the subjective aspect of instinctive tendencies will depend upon what the psychologist includes within this group of tendencies. McDougall classifies mstincts in two groups, one in- cluding instincts that possess a well-defined emotional tendency, while the other embraces instincts whose emotional tendency is vague.® This points out the important fact that the subjective aspect of some in- stinctive tendencies at least— their aspect as impulse —involves the feelings called emotions. But those instinctive tendencies, on the one hand, that approxi- mate the reflex level, could hardly have the term emo- tion applied to them. If walking be an instinct, for example, its subjective aspect could hardly be called an emotion. On the other hand, those instinctive tendencies of a very general character, the "general tendencies" of McDougalPs listing, have a subjective aspect too ill-defined and variable to be regarded as emotional. In the circumstances, it seems safer to think that every instinctive tendency, in certain condi- tions, is accompanied by an inner state to be described in the simplest terms as an organic uneasiness, rest- «0a cU., ch. III. The Function of Instinctive Tendencies 127 lessness, or excitement; but only in the case of a lim- ited number of instincts is this inner state definitely toned as an emotion. The Place of Emotion It seems clear that there exists an intimate relation between emotional processes and at least some in- stincts. But are these instinctive tendencies neces- sarily emotional in character? McDougall seems to believe that emotion is the normal accompani- ment of the excitation of one group of instincts, if not of all.® If by ^normaP is intended mainly the fact that these instincts are as a rule and in point of fact accompanied by emotional excitement, the state- ment seems to be true. But if the adjective indicates that these instincts are necessarily so accompanied, the statement is questionable. Emotions seem to be, at bottom, indications of disequilibrium rather than of equilibrium; they are not normal accompaniments in the sense of necessary, of appearing naturally without special occasion, as McDougall's view appears to im- " According to McDougall, each instinct may be regarded as "consisting of three corresponding parts, an afferent, a central, and a motor or efferent part." The constitution of the central part determines the spread of excitement through various channels, and especially to the visceral organs whose workings are thereby modi- fied. (Op. cit., pp. 33-4). The significance of this is that the ac- tivity of the viscera is modified in the way necessary to support the particular kind of activity of the skeletal muscles demanded by the instinct. The internal bodily, or 'systemic,' changes accord- ingly, adaptive in character; they support the whole instinctive process. Ill 128 The Basis of Social Theory ply. They represent the breaking-down of instincts in the sense that the immediate translation of impulse into its appropriate action is impeded.^® According to this position, emotions arise when certain instinctive tendencies are checked, interfered with, thrown out of equilibrium, because of special conditions. The im- pediment may have a variety of sources. In the first place, situations in human life are complicated and tend to arouse several rather than one tendency. This is all the more true because of the fact that with experience and knowledge, the immediate situation becomes loaded with significance, and points to re- mote considerations and future possibilities. This has the effect of arousing not merely one but several tendencies in connection with ideational processes. Each instinct through experience has been linked up in a variety of ways. This variety of linkages, plus the multiple significance of situations, results in the possibility of conflicts between instinctive tendencies, or between various ramifications developed by experi- ence within the field of the motor outlet. Emotion reflects these hesitancies and blockings whose explana- 10 This theory of the relation of instinct and emotion is due to John Dewey; it seems to be essentially the position adopted by Drever {op. ch., p. 127), although the latter does not attribute it to Dewey. Drever ascribes to every instinct what he calls instinct-interest, the original affective element in instincts. This element becomes emotion "only when action in satisfaction of the interest is suspended or checked, when, as we expressed it before, interest passes into 'tension.' If impulse realizes itself in the ap- propriate action towards the situation, then there is no emotion in any strict ^ng? of emotion." {Op. cU., p. 1S7). The Function op Instinctive Tendencies 129 tion in physiological terms involves the interplay of inhibiting and facilitating factors. Since human life, especially in civilizational and cultural conditions, is so complex and since the capacities underlying mem- ory, imagination, and thought furnish additional intra- organic conditions, it is not surprising that the func- tioning of instinct in man should be so predominantly emotional. The possession of an innate constitution that does not undergo alteration to match the altera- tions in environment, while this constitution provides abilities insuring the appreciation of these alterations, subjects instinct to hindrances not given in the bare immediacies of sense. Human life, accordingly, will be more emotional than that of any other animal. The working of the instinct without check or re-direction caused by complexity of conditions, inner or outer, will be comparatively exceptional. Classification of Instinctive Tendencies From the preceding discussion follow important considerations concerning the classification of instinc- tive tendencies. The more specific (sometimes called 'pure') may be accompanied by what Drever calls 'instinct-interest' but hardly by emotion. On the other hand, there are less specific instincts, of more general function and wider import, that are character- istically accompanied by emotional excitement. Fi- nally, recalling the previous inclusion of general tend- encies such as 'play,' 'sympathy,' etc., in the list of 130 The Basis of Social TheorV instinctive tendencies, we have a third group that are hardly emotional in the strict sense. The latter, ac- cording to Drever, may be viewed, in terms of biolog- ical function, as supplementing the reactions of in- stinct in the more limited sense of this term. "They do not normally determine specific ends or interests, but attach themselves ... to the ends and interests determined by specific tendencies, more especially those of the 'emotionaP group. This explains the fact that they have no accompanying specific emo- tion . . . the usual instinct-interest may be, and per- haps generally is, present. In a hunting game, . . . there is, in addition to the specific interest, develop- ing it may be into emotion, of the hunting instinct, the play interest itself, which, while it never can itself become emotional, yet modifies throughout both the emotion and the behaviour of the hunting instinct." ^^ Following the classification given by Drever, but with some modifications, we obtain this tentative scheme: First, the more specific group, related to quite specific situations or aspects of situations, and not affording emotional excitement, although marked by instinct-interest. In this sub-class would come such tendencies as locomotion. Drever notes that these may be numerous but difficult to distinguish from reflexes. But as we have had occasion to note be- fore, there is apt to be a certain element of conven- tionality or at least of provisional character in any classification. It is, moreover, unlikely that simple " op. cU., pp. 166-7. The Function of Instinctive Tendencies 131 and unmistakable lines of cleavage should be dis- cerned in original nature taken as a subject of analy- sis. The uncertainties of the content of this first class may be regarded as expressive of the necessarily abstract nature of the classification. The group may be viewed as filling the gap between what would be generally accepted as reflexes proper and what would be generally defined as instincts. The second group consists of the instincts whose ends are peculiarly significant for life as a whole, such as Flight (Fear), Pugnacity (Anger), Curiosity, the Sex and Parental Instincts.^^ ^he instincts of this group are peculiarly emotional. Their importance must be estimated on a different basis from that in the light of which the first class is considered. The most specific instinct tendencies are important in the sense that these reactions are continually needed and are useful in almost every situation. That is, situations of the most varied kinds are apt to contain elements which elicit the more specific reactions to these spe- cific aspects of situations and so are likely to be every- where useful. The more critically important adjust- ments are naturally and in the long run the answers to the more occasional demands. Life could not be one *'This classification does not strictly conform to that of Drever, who includes Sex in a special group called Appetites, including Hunger, etc. Drever divides the "specific 'instinct' tendencies" into the "pure" (difficult to distinguish from reflexes, as reactions of ad- justment and attention, prehension, locomotion) and the "emo- tional" (such as Fear, Anger, Hunting, Acquisitive, Curiosity, etc.). His third group of 'Instinct' Tendencies are "general," such as Play, Experimentation, Imitation, etc. Cf. Drever, op. cH., pp. 166-170. 132 The Basis of Social Theory protracted, incessant crisis. Locomotion or manipu- lation might be selected as activities almost universally valuable. Just as reflexes form a basis upon which more far-reaching activities are carried on, so the more specific instinctive tendencies form part of the same sub-structure. The second group of instinctive tendencies possesses an importance of a different char- acter. It is through these tendencies that the chief ends of life-activity, biologically and socially con- sidered, are projected in outline. In group life their activity involves others, directly or indirectly. Their environment is essentially the activities of others, not in the sense in which some instincts are often deemed 'social' in contrast with others deemed 'anti-sociaP or 'un-social,' but in the sense that we do not know what they mean, what they are about, save in connection with the activities of others. They play a vast part in the life of mind because of their driving power and their constant enlistment of our capacities in their service. As capacities conquer fields of interest for themselves, this second group of instincts furnishes energy for such adventures. Correspondingly, the tendencies of this group are characterized by emotion because their crucial importance demands intricate relationships with the processes of experience. They project dominant ends and their insistence places upon intel- ligence a responsibility for guidance all the more grave because the environment of action is social. Finally, we have the third sub-group, the tendencies that are so general that they can hardly be regarded The Function of Instinctive Tendencies 133 as fixing end? and interests so much as qualifying the ends and interests outlined by the second group. And of course beyond the realm of the instinctive tendencies lie what have been called capacities and abilities. Function of Instinctive Tendencies: The Biological Emphasis In the preceding pages the function of instinctive tendencies has been referred to but not explored. It now becomes necessary to examine more closely the role they play. The function of instinctive tendencies can be considered from a variety of view-points, and these, while not necessarily inconsistent, focus atten- tion upon different aspects of their operation. In the definitions of instinctive tendencies listed in a foot- note above ^3 it is noticeable that many of them emphasize what might be termed the biological stand- point. This biological emphasis, however, requires evaluation. Biological principles, it may be admitted, constitute for psychology an inescapable basis, and in a negative sense, they form a set of limiting principles. Within the social life of man, however, and the develop- ment of civilization and culture, the biological point of view, valid within its limits, involves over-simplifica- tion and abstraction when biology expands to include the phenomena of society within its subject-matter. The subject-matter of the social sciences involves new levels of phenomena, and the biological categories are i» C/. Note 1 of this chapter. 'i'l 134 The Basis of Social Theory inexhaustive when applied thereto. Or else these categories must be transformed beyond recognition in order to cover the facts. That the whole drift of social life falls within channels defined by biological science as now understood is hardly debatable; but more than this cannot be assumed. The facts of art, for example, may doubtless be related to the biological account of human natural history; but over and above this remains a residuum that, from other points of view, is the very essence of the facts. Social life in man reaches a height of achievement where biological principles, that can hardly be abrogated, are yet placed in temporary abeyance. The moral valuations of man may be at variance with the opera- tions of such principles as natural selection; in the long run, it may prove to be true that the failure to conform to such a principle will be injurious; on the other hand, the further evolution of man in his social life may rather reveal ever more clearly the one-sided- ness of such a principle. Our morals of charity, of protection of the helpless and 'unfit,' have been con- demned because of their supposed or real defiance of biological law. The Nietzschean invective may have had but the slenderest connection with biology: but those vitriolic utterances have been frequently trans- lated into the terminology of biology. The Nietz- schean law, "Be hard," may be regarded by many as the necessary corrective to the alleged practice of preserving the unfit to our own undoing. But, con- trariwise, this violation of laws of life, granting the as- The Function of Instinctive Tendencies 135 sumption, may turn out to be merely symptomatic of a critical transition to a new level of being. History suggests that man here and there makes a transition from a condition in which he is dominated and ex- ternally controlled by a principle resident in the totality of natural conditions to a status in which, having become cognizant of the bearings of that principle, natural conditions become bearers of mean- ing and inventive ingenuity transforms the principle into an instrument of practical achievement. Life is reorganized so that it is brought into a new conformity with nature, but at a higher level, a conformity of mastery, not of simple acquiescence. Rational social selection emerges from the depths of imagination as a possible supplementation of a checked natural selec- tion or as its substitute. Such natural principles may become limiting principles demarcating the limits of reconstruction of environment, life, and society. It were venturesome to attempt a calculation of the possibilities of such reconstructive efforts. It is suf- ficient to observe that considerations such as these suggest the need of prudence in erecting social science upon biological foundations. Biological Account of Tendencies With this in mind, the function of instinctive tend- encies from the biological standpoint may be briefly and more adequately indicated. It has been noted that instincts are regarded as essentially adaptive in 136 The Basis of Social Theory character. It is possible that some of them are bio- logical 'luxuries.' This is highly doubtful, however, for pretty generally instincts are regarded as at least having had a marked adaptive function at some period in the history of life. Instincts, then, fall under the general principle of the correlation of structure and environment. As functions and activities, instinctive tendencies must be fitted, within limits, to the environ- ment of the organismi possessing them. The relativity of this principle of the correlation between organism and environment must, however, be duly appreciated in connection with instinctive functions. Generally stated, the given structure and its functions are corre- lated with an environment of a given sort. Envi- ronment in general shows some features that are practically universal — natural factors that are com- mon to all situations. In regard to other features, tlieir appearance is a matter of here-and-there, now- and-then. There is nowhere, needless to state, perfect correlation of structure, function, and environment. There is a vague upper limit where the fitting is remarkable in its nicety; there is a lower limit of disparity which perhaps marks the point at which a given form of life cannot survive in the given type of environment. Structures may be capable of success- ful functioning in many types of environment because of their 'adaptability.' This renders the phrase 'the environment' quite elastic. But the vague upper and lower limits persist as defining, however roughly, the canalization of the stream of life. There is the •!l The Function of Instinctive Tendencies 137 truism that the more close and harmonious the suit- ability of a given structure to a given environment the more surely adaptive and life-assuring are the elements of that structure. Any given structural element may, however, survive under alterations of the environment and persevere as something useless but not harmful —it may acquire the status, so to speak, of a 'luxury' —or it may become a deterrent and a handicap. And yet, despite this, if the harmfulness of the element be not too great, it may be continued in the given species. With respect to man's instinctive tendencies it can be said that they are in the long run useful and adap- tive, taking the human race as a whole and viewing it through long periods of time. No instinctive tendency is in any circumstances, perhaps, inevitably and un- qualifiedly useful. The utility is a matter of degree and obtains in the long run. There is no discrepancy between the assertion of their general utility and their occasional lack of it. The actual value of the in- stinctive tendency is always conditioned by the sum- total of conditions comprised within the given situa- tion. In human life, where ends and aims are consciously entertained and the significance of the present is extended by imagination in order to be illu- minated by the past and made prophetic of the future, the relation of the present situation to these ends and aims must be included in the totality of conditions relevant to the estimate of utility. Utility is a matter of consequences. But consequences, for such a crea- ture as man, define long vistas; they are but sections 138 The Basis of Social Theory of immeasurable concatenations of events. The estimate of utility is therefore relative to a great deal more in meanings and possible consequences than the instinct in its natural character suggests. The utility of an instinct, taken in relation to the survival of an animal species and in the long run, may be satisfactory from the standpoint of biology. But with man, where we dare not slur over individual careers by attending to the survival of the species alone, utility must be relative not only to the survival of the species but also to the character of a life that is significant be- cause it is led by individuals. A tendency that is im- mediately useful in regard to the present situation considered in its more immediate bearings may be use- less or harmful when examined in a wider and richer context. In short, biologically speaking, human in- stinctive tendencies must be either useful in the long run; or, having once been useful, are now useless or at least not excessively harmful. But at bottom these statements are abstract. What is suggested con- cretely by man's constitution is not so much the utility or lack of utility of his instinctive propensities as the fact that his instincts may be made useful. They may function in a life controlled by intelligence and en- larged by imagination. As we shall see, the question is not whether our instinctive tendencies are useful, but is rather a question of how and to what extent they can be made useful. It is possible, of course, that, despite the adaptive powers derived from our capacities, some one or several instinctive tendencies The Function of Instinctive Tendencies 139 remain in all circumstances positively maleficent and, notwithstanding the burden, are still preserved in the constitution of the species. Doubtless this is unlikely. It is desirable, however, to note the possibility as a precaution against uncritical generalization. Tendencies as Social Forces When we consider instinctive tendencies from the standpoint of the interests of social psychology, stipulations of grave import must qualify the principle of the utility of these tendencies. The fact of group life, and all that this fact means when viewed in con- nection with our equipment of capacities, introduces a new order of considerations. The social super- structure erected upon the biological foundations is fully comprehensible only when investigated at its own level. The relativity of the principle of utility is made emphatic when allowance is made for the social mul- tiplication of the conditions to which man must be adjusted. These conditions can be reduced to three groups: those connected with the alteration of the environment (in the physical sense of the term) ; those connected with social institutions, customs, arrange- ments, the objective expression of convictions, etc.; finally, conditions connected with the preceding and representing the combined effect of the loose organiza- tion of instinctive tendencies, their ramifications and extensions iu imagination, with the resultant necessity of adjusting instinctive tendencies to one another and 140 The Basis of Social Theory of adjudicating the conflicting claims of the many ends with which the tendencies become connected. Alteration of the Physical Conditions The first set of conditions, primarily connected with the alteration of the physical environment, refer to such matters as the food-supply, geographic configura- tions, natural dangers and the like. Now the envi- ronment within which a given tendency appeared and became established as an inherited trait of the species (through 'natural selection' or by whatever process the biologist may assign) will be an environment to which, within limits, that tendency is fitted. It is not necessary to assume that the correlation is perfect— a certain minimum is all that is requisite. Environment, however, should be understood to mean a determinate environment, that environment with which the tend- ency in question is correlated. This environment— or 'the environment' in general— is never unchanging. The development of an instinctive tendency and its fixation as characteristic of a species may have occupied an enormously long period; unless its ap- pearance was the sudden eruption of something new, the period must have been long. At any rate, the persistence of the tendency as a constant trait would suggest that no environmental change of so radical a character as to transform the tendency from a useful one into a seriously harmful one occurred. A radical and catastrophic change of environment might destroy The Function of Instinctive Tendencies 141 the correlation of fitness to the given environment. But the extinction of the species also would probably occur. However this may be, the environment, in the sense in which it is the environment for a particular tendency, may alter so as to deprive the given tendency of significance, of utility, or so as to render it detrimental. But in any case, if the species survive, the tendency as such does not undergo im- mediately a corresponding and compensating altera- tion, so as to restore at once its fitness and utility. If the fitness, in relation to a determinate environment, of many items of instinctive equipment were seriously impaired by changes in the environment and over a short period of time, one would expect the extinction of the species. But, if this extinction be not the case, and if the instinctive equipment itself remain prac- tically unchanged, some compensation for the mal- adaptation must be sought in the resources of animal inheritance. The history of man seems to afford an illustration of this abstract statement. Man himself effects vast changes in his environ- ment. He alters the natural conditions within which his natural equipment is destined to operate. Man cannot modify the structure of matter and its laws. But by taking cognizance of the properties of things and conforming to their laws, he can take advantage of nature in a sense that is profoundly significant for his career. Man may thus vary the way in which his activity intersects the environment. Many factors lie back of this effect. To enumerate them would be i lis 142 The Basis of Social Theory to enumerate the traits that define man as a species. The character of the human hand, the power of com- munication, of learning, imagining, discovering, in- venting, and many others might be mentioned. The accumulation of experience, skill, knowledge, is trans- mitted in the social group from generation to genera- tion. A technique of action is worked out. Tools and instruments are invented. Thanks to these, new sources of power are made available. The invention of tools and instruments and the development of the technique of using them are new features in the life- process and change man's relation to environment to a qualitatively different plane. These agencies in- crease human power — or else increase the effectiveness with which that power is applied. Through this man succeeds in obtaining what is commonly called his "mastery over nature." The phrase is dispropor- tionate and metaphorical. But it points to the real situation. What is accomplished in some measure is the control, the re-direction and re-combination of natural forces. Man's activity becomes a larger causal factor in the total causation affecting his weal or woe. One force of nature counteracts another, or two streams of change are made to converge into one channel. Even primitive instruments profoundly alter the conditions of life, changing their relative values. Human needs, desires, wants and wishes must always, even in civilization, be adjusted to environing cir- cumstances. And even where these springs of action operate unreflectively environment comes to bear their The Function of Instinctive Tendencies 143 impress. But when tnese needs and desires enlist in- telligence—human capacities— in their interest, and utilize the equipment of knowledge, skill, and instru- ment, environment reveals a great deal more than an incidental and unforeseen impress. Rather, the en- vironment comes to be adjusted to need and desire. Life and environment are never static. But both be- come dynamic in a new sense in the measure in which environment is deliberately taken as an opportunity for contrivance, construction, and art. Adjustment to environment tends to become increasingly adjustment of environment. The use of missile weapons— the boomerang, the blow-gun and poisoned dart, the spear, the bow and arrow, and the like — rapidly modify the relation of man and environment in respect to the food-supply, and may equally modify the environment in other ways as, for example, in decreasing the numbers or effecting the extinction of dangerous beasts. The instruments and the arts that make animal-culture or agriculture possible brought about modifications of the environment as truly as the clear- ing of a field, the damming of a stream, or the build- ing of habitation and city effected environmental change. With this appear changes in the mode of life that reflect the increased radius of action and its greater effectivenses. The satisfactions of old needs quantitatively increase, and new needs and new ends are formulated in imagination and be- come additional centers of initiative. Man lives in larger groups, perhaps; he stores food against periods 144 The Basis of Social Theory of scarcity; he interposes clothing between his naked- ness and the inclemencies of the weather; and so an immense list of such modifications of environment might be drawn up. Recounted completely and in sequence these modifications would be the history of man's practical arts. The most striking fact, however, in this process is its markedly cumulative character. The accumula- tion increases in a sort of geometrical ratio, and man's active interposition in environmental changes and his reconstruction of the environment increase in similar fashion. Hence the pace of change becomes con- tinually more rapid, although at first and over long periods the alterations are but slight. If a digging- stick were the first human invention, it could hardly have resulted within a few hundreds of years in an immense multiplication of tools and profoundly modi- fied the environment. But at the other end, consider the rapidity with which, in modern civilization, one invention or discovery breeds others. It would be interesting to compare the interval between the in- ventions (or accidental discoveries) of the boomerang and the bow and arrow,^* and between the invention of gunpowder and the latest weapons of warfare. The facts, in a general way, suggest that each discovery and invention and every advance in knowledge and technique tend to open the way to further advances. And finally, when man comes to recognize the pos- i*C/. Wundt, Elements of Folk Psychology, trans, by E. L. Schaub, pp. 24-29. The Function of Instinctive Tendencies 14S sibilities resident within knowledge, and discovery and utilization of knowledge are undertaken in a systematic fashion, we have the modern world of incessant change. It is a world arrogant in its confidence in the progres- sive transformation of the environment to harmonize with man's purposes and well-nigh incapable of surprise over the most dazzling achievements of applied science. The notion— or religion— of progress seems to be an expression of this evolution in terms of an ideal. Disparity of Instinct and Environment It is clear, then, that in addition to environmental changes whose causes are resident within the system of nature itself, there are changes effected by man himself. The consequence is that his instinctive tend- encies no longer function in the environment within which they became established as hereditary fixtures. For the 'natural' environment there is substituted a manufactured, reconstructed environment. The im- portant fact is that the greater part of the altera- tion was effected in a brief period. Even if *^homo sapiens'' has been in existence for half a million years, It appears not unreasonable to conjecture that the total environmental changes produced in the last ten thou- sand years— say, within historical times— are not less quantitatively and not less in significance than the changes effected in many tens of thousands of years in prehistoric times. Such a statement is intended, i I If p I III « I 146 The Basis of Social Theory of course, to be suggestive; it seems, however, to point to a significant contrast. Now such a progressive alteration of environment must involve an increasing disparity between instinctive tendencies and the con- ditions of their exercise. Our native equipment, in this respect, is foreign to the world in which it appears. It is in this sense archaic.^'^ The test of the utility of these tendencies, ac- cordingly, must be taken with this disparity in mind. The utility is at least no longer guaranteed by the bare fact of their existence in the species. Their per- sistence does not attest their adaptive value in the world of yesterday, today, or tomorrow. But at this point we seem to reach a paradox. It has been urged that man, in his cumulative alterations of environment, is adjusting, with more or less blindness and more or less vision, the environment to himself. It seems 15 Wallas has pointed out that the usefulness of an instinctive action dep)ends, not on the degree, but on the character of the like- ness between the stimulating situation and the mean type with which the disposition is naturally related; this means that the use- fulness depends on whether the situation is "relevant to the original advantage or danger which the disposition was evolved to secure or avoid. . . . Man is bom with a set of dispositions related, clum- sily enough but still intelligibly, to the world of tropical or sub- tropical wood and cave which he inhabited during millions of years of slow evolution. ... In our time the coming of the Great Society has created an environment in which, for most of us, neither our instinctive nor our intelligent dispositions find it easy to discover their most useful stimuli. . . . And because the new facts by which our dispositions are now stimulated are only inexact substitutes for the old facts by which they were stimulated during the long process of evolution, the stimulation itself is weak and capricious." The result of this is the baulking of the dispositions and this pror duces strain. {The Great Society, pp. 60-65.) The Function of Instinctive Tendencies 147 paradoxical to assert that as man seeks to adjust the environment to himself he effects a disparity between his endowment and his environment. But the paradox is more apparent than real. The basic fact, we must assume, is that man does adjust the environment to himself and therefore increases the harmony between himself and it. But this increased fitness obtains of man in his total constitution and in respect of the total possibilities resident within it. And this is perfectly compatible with the assertion of a growing disparity between his instinctive tendencies in their untutored character and their 'naturaP environment. The process is imperfect, full of strain, one-sidedness, with improvements in some respects purchased at the cost of mal-adjustments in other respects. Alterations in life-conditions that improve man's fitness may have incidental and unforeseen effects expressive of the fact that the gain is in part balanced by some loss. And the final answer is this: the assertion of disparity has reference to instinctive tendencies in the form that they tend to take without especial direction and specific organization; but even instinctive tendencies may have a higher career, and the natural disparity be the oc- casion of processes of modification and organization that will give them wider meaning in the total life of mind. The natural disparity must be compensated for by taking advantage of the modifiability of in- stincts and utilizing the resources of mind and ex- perience. Thus while their utility at the natural level becomes impaired, they may regain this utility—or 148 The Basis of Social Theory gain a higher utility — at a new level. Subsequent discussion, it is hoped, will make this clear. We will assume, therefore, the soundness of the statement that, in the sense explained, the cumulative effects of human activity upon environment result in a disparity between our instinctive endowment and the environment in so far as it is significant for that endowment. This may be stated in other words by saying that changes in original nature lag behind the changes in environment. Unless use-inheritance on an improbable scale be admitted, the experience of the altered environment does not affect the germ-plasm directly and in such a manner that the constitution possessed at the start by succeeding generations is brought by immediate specific changes in the germ- plasm into harmony with the environment as thus altered. It is conceivable that nature might have been so organized that changes in environment would have directly induced and so been counterbalanced by corresponding alterations in original nature. Thus we might imagine that a tribe changed from a forest- dwelling life, with the chase as the main occupation, to a form of existence in which agriculture and the domestication of animals provided the means of sub- sistence; and that with this went increased density of population, increase of cooperative enterprise, village life, and allied changes. With these would occur, of course, many other changes. Now if such a set of changes should occur in a relatively brief period (as compared with the biologist's computation of The Function of Instinctive Tendencies 149 time) we can hardly imagine a corresponding trans- formation in specific heritable traits. It is probable that items of inherited equipment would be displaced with respect to others in the previous order of importance. One constituent, previously of the first importance, may become comparatively un-important, or even deleterious; another, formerly of lesser significance, may acquire a new prominence. The relation of the components of original nature to the second environment could not be that obtaining in the first instance. Assuming the possession of a hunting instinct for the sake of illustration, it is obvious that its role would be of lesser consequence than an ac- quisitive or constructive instinct. And it seems fair to assume, moreover, that if such a transfor- mation of life-conditions be only the beginning of a whole series of reorganizations, activated by the in- ventiveness of the group and its accumulations of knowledge and skill, the originally simple harmony of endowment and environment will shift into more and more intricate relationships. That har- mony which the concept of 'fitness' implies will tend to become more and more a matter of attainment through sustained effort than a mere fact of nature. In the light of this, the assertion that changes in native constitution lag behind environmental re- construction seems to be intelligible. And further- more, in this connection the fallacy of regarding man as an active agent confronting a static environment becomes clear. Man is a selective being, and his ISO The Basis of Social Theory selective function constitutes a factor in determining what elements of the sum-total of existences shall be peculiarly significant for him and relevant in beneficent or maleficent ways to his life-purposes. When societal evolution attains that rapidity of change mark- ing civilization, the reorganization of the environment is recognized as a means. The selectivity of natural structure and function is extended into a selectivity founded on conscious preferences, on interests and remote ends, on ideals of control through the agencies of social cooperation, communication, and invention. Folkways and Institutions It is obvious that the alteration of the physical environment cannot be considered in abstraction from other conditions that test the utility of components of original nature. This second set of conditions may be grouped under the terms folkways and institutions. Reference is made to custom, usages, standardized ways of acting, of getting things done, approvals and disapprovals as embodied in habits, group-practices, institutions such as caste, the chieftainship, the family, property and the like, interests, group-aims and ideals. These things we may call ^ideas'; but adaptation is never to ideas as such. The ideas which reflection discovers imbedded in folkways and institutions may be entertained as ideas by very few individuals. It is the embodiment of the ideas in the constitution of things, in the arrangement and construction of physical The Function of Instinctive Tendencies 151 surroundings, in the ways in which things have been shaped or the uses to which they are put, and finally in the modes of conduct, in routine, rites, ceremonies, conjoint activities,— it is this embodiment that is a factor in adaptation. The environment is not static, we have seen, because it has a geological history, but more significantly because man selectively organizes it as the hindrance or the vehicle of his reactions. The fashion in which activities intersect the ^physical' environment will reflect the impact of the folkways; doubtless the folkways come into existence in deter- minate conditions and in the long run persist only on condition of a minimal degree of suitability. The folkways must change with important changes in the specific environment of a given group: the folkways of the nomadic tribe cannot be those of the dweller in cities. Whatever the degree of mis-fit between a body of folkways and environment, they represent in general the manner in which human energies and natural forces are interwoven. It is to be recalled here that the distinction between the physical and social envi- ronments is an intellectual distinction not representing a clear-cut dualism in the facts. These considera- tions indicate that changes introduced by human effort, thanks to the leverage furnished by a life stabilized by a set of folkways, may bring a new environment to which the persisting folkways are not well adjusted. Disparity may appear in this way. A set of folkways, for example, may make so secure the life of a small group that it increases rapidly in numbers; but it may I! I 152 The Basis of Social Theory then happen that the folkways are not suitable for the group when so expanded. Thus the principle of the harmony of folkways and environment is subject to grave qualification. Instinctive Tendencies and Life-Customs This embodied set of conditions that represent folk- ways and institutions is at bottom a part of the environment in the concrete sense of the term. But singling out these folkways and institutions for special consideration we must note that instinctive endow- ment must be adjusted to them. Instinctive tend- encies in their raw state contain no special provision insuring their original compatibility with the life- customs and arrangements of the group. In short, for reasons that need not be repeated here, there is disparity between the original instinctive endowment and what may be called the social conditions of their exercise. There is here the same lack of compensa- tory change in original nature to meet change in life- conditions that was urged in connection with the alteration of the 'physical' environment. This general statement, of course, should be qualified as it was in the discussion above. Impulses, it may be said, in their raw unmodified character maintain their in- sistent demands in the face of a system of social affairs and arrangements which requires modification in those propensities. These modifications may amount to repression; or it may be that transforma- ■tp" The Function of Instinctive Tendencies 153 tion is required. The meaning of this situation is the same as that which emerged in preceding discus- sion: mstmctive tendencies as such are not assuredly useful; they must be made useful. They are not adequate instruments for the furtherance of life- interests; but they may, in varying measure and ac- cordmg to specific circumstances, become valuable by bemg brought into a minimum degree of conformity to the sociar environment. Social Problems This disparity in its various aspects defines one important factor in the problems of group life. An active process of repression and encouragement, of re-direction, organization, and control of instinctive tendencies IS a prime condition of their constituting not a burden, but a help. Training to supplement the deficiencies of instinctive tendencies in their raw state IS a social need. Uncultivated instinctive tend- encies must become controlled interests. Intelligence must intervene as the means of control and of 'social modellmg^' to use Hocking's phrase. The develop- mg individual is subject to many social demands, many social pressures, while the group is simultaneously subject to demands, pressures, and efforts to re-model from the side of the individual. This situation, to which we must recur later, briefly defines the source of social problems. Every fundamental propensity as hunger, sex, self-assertion, is potentially in conflict 154 The Basis of Social Theory with the life-system of the group, and consequently is potentially the characteristic element in a type of difficulty emerging in group life. Modification of Instinctive Tendencies To insure the utility of instinctive tendencies they must be diverted into new channels; they must be organized in stable systems nucleated about ideas with sufficient conformity to the conjoint demands of the 'physical' and ^social' environments to insure an effec- tive articulation of conduct with surrounding condi- tions, including the activities of others, singly or in groups. But the demands that instincts must meet are composite, with the possibility of many conflicts and inconsistencies. Social codes are never completely clear; they do not apply to every situation without ambiguity; and every group is after all a group of groups, with divergencies marking the lines of cleavage between the sub-groups. Personalities differ and the social environment is never the same for any two since individuality is a differential yet constitutive factor in determining environment. And in the reaches of the imagination circumstances conspire to develop out of the variety of instinctive propensities conflicting desires and competing ends. Each in- stinct may, so to speak, be connected with so many ends that each instinct tends to become internally discrepant and uncertain of its own claims. In these statements is indicated the grounds of the third factor The Function of Instinctive Tendencies 155 in the utilization of instinct. Instincts must be adjusted to one another and the ramifications of each must form a harmonious system; otherwise the mal- adjustment is expressed in strain, and impulse is un- steady and ineffective. Instinctive tendencies, we may conclude, must be continually renovated to secure fitness, must assume new channels of expression adjusted to new situa- tions, and finally must become attached to ends that represent their natural ends in form only but not m content and meaning. This educative process depends upon the exercise of the functions developed from the capacities of original nature. It depends also on characteristics of instinctive tendencies in man, i.e., their flexibility and relatively non-specific structure. With these considerations we may remove the appear- ance of paradox from the statement with which the discussion began, i. e., that man by efforts to adjust the environment to himself effects a disparity between endowment and environment. How Instinctive Tendencies can be Modified Since instinctive operations begin with stimulation and terminate in action, the ways in which they can be modified are apparent. Each instinctive tendency is naturally affiliated with a given type of situation; within the totality of stimuli that every situation pre- sents there will be present some characters, specific, or general and pervasive, that define the type. Ow- i\ '■4. I 1S6 The Basis of Social Theory ing to the fact that tendencies cannot be examined in their abstract purity, it is impossible to supply a complete statement of the factors defining the type and constituting the stimuli to the tendency. This corre- lation must be understood in the sense of an ideal limit of analysis. In this relation of tendency and situation, modifications may occur on the side of stimulation or that of action. Finally, since every reaction involves central adjustment, modification may occur there. In the final analysis, perhaps, all modification may be reduced to modification in the central process.^* The malleability of insUncts is an original attribute of them, although without our capacities we could not take advantage of this property. The problem of modification is that of transforming a natural func- "McDougall summarizes the possibilities as follows: "(1) The instmctive reactions become capable of being initiated not only by the perception of objects of the kind which directly excite the innate disposition the native or natural excitants of the instinct, but also i.'^rtt nT 1 '"? ^^^''^ "'^^ ^y perceptions and by ideks of ob° jects of other kinds; (2) the bodily movements in which the in. stinct finds expression may be modified and complicated to an in- definitely ^at degree; (3) owing to the complexity of the ideas which can brmg the human instincts into play, it frequently happens that several mstmcts are simultaneously excited; when the sevVral jriTrfpc k' "^''^ '''"^"f '*'^''' °^ ^"*^™^^y' (^) tbe instinctive tendencies become more or less systematically organized about certain objects or ideas/' (O^. cit. p. 33). McDougall's statements occur in his discussion of the nature of instinct, but there seems to be no ob- vious reason why they should not apply to "general tendencies" as well, grantmg that due allowance be made for the less spe- ofic character of these. In connection with the whole question McDougaUs chapter on the SenUments might profitably be con- The junction of Instinctive Tendencies ijf tion into a socially articulated activity, into a process of participation in joint situations, and into a personal trait that somehow finds its place in the system of life. Of course, in ethical terms, this socialization means the transformation of the natural function into an ethically ideal factor. It is important to remember, however, that we are not now concerned with ethical questions although the discussion may have ethical bearings; the modification of insUnct here implies simply their diversion from their natural unchecked tendency and transformation into social factors. The latter may mean the enlistment of instinctive energies in the interests of the most admirable purposes; or it may mean partisanship, self-interest, prejudice, and all the deficiencies of group-morals. In a sense, each individual must get adjusted to social vices as well as virtues. Instinctive Tendencies as Good and as Evil We meet at this point ancient convictions. The fundamental role of instinctive tendencies as the drives of action and the suggestors of primary aims has always tended to bring them prominently within the sphere of religious and ethical conceptions and attitudes. Instinctive tendencies are the chief dif- ferentiations of the stream of life-activity. Now the disparity of instinct and environment, especially strik- ing within an elaborate social organization and tradi- tion, unavoidably connects instincts with the sources of K J I III; iiill 158 The Basis of Social Theory moral problems. The contrast between the natural unmodified functions and the standardized sanctioned ways defined by the total cultural situation and taken to be the basic conditions of individual or group wel- fare cannot escape observation. A trivial illustration is sufficient: the contrast between a young child's untutored behavior with respect to food and the ceremonials and regulations surrounding the meal in a given society shows the point. It is unnecessary to illustrate the contrast between the raw impulses springing from sex, pugnacity, fear, and the like, on the one hand, and the legally, ethically, or theo- logically sancUoned and regularized activities. Since instinctive tendencies define only the bare form of the end, and social tradition, in a word, defines the specific shape and content, the possibilities of conflict are innumerable. The complexity of factors con- tributes to make just appreciaUon difficult and accounts in part at least for varying estimates of the moral significance of instinct or specific instincts. Instincts as Evil in Natural Tendency Emphasis has been repeatedly placed in preceding pages upon the fallacy of taking the distinction between original nature and acquired nature in a strictly dualistic sense. If, however, this fallacy obtains explicitly or implicitly in religious and moral attitudes and reflections, there arises a tendency to The Function of Instinctive Tendencies 159 find in the dualistic conception the simplest explana- tion of unethical conduct. It is found easy to at- tribute to inherited tendencies (particularly when these are identified with instincts) responsibility for delin- quencies. The moral life is then likely to be considered as, from the negative standpoint, the rigid control or suppression of instinctive impulses, and the substitu- tion for them of oUier traits for which various social agencies bear responsibility. In its simplest and most extreme form, the doctrine implies that man is wiUi respect to his inherited nature essentially an evil- doer, tiiough somehow retaining the possibility of overcoming, more or less, this handicap tiirough morahzmg processes of experience. This suggests tiie doctnne tiiat instincts are essentially evil (the Nature is Wrong" doctrine as Thorndike calls it) or at best neutral, and tiieir activities tiie source of wrong-doing. Here we have a sort of secular sub- stitute for the theological doctrine of original sin— indeed, the two have been connected in certain histori- cal situations. We have to do here with attitudes ratiier than explicit doctrines. Were it always made explicit Its absurdities would be clear. ' This view, however nebulous, in effect denies tiiat instinctive equipment has a genuine ethical function. It may seem to have a necessary function in human life as a natural fact; but this is regrettable, and the moral and social problem is to minimize their function. If tiieir extermination is impossible save at tiie cost of de- stroying tiie race of men, tiiey must be tolerated, at I 160 The Basis of Social Theory best, and at the worst, obliterated wherever possible. In asceticism we find, quite frequently, the principle pushed to the human limit. Instincts as Good in Tendency Opposed to the above principle, as the other extreme, is the position that human nature, as a bundle of instinctive tendencies, is inherently and essentially good— in Thorndike^s terms, "Nature is Right." Here social life, civilization, not human nature as such, is responsible for our woes. Civilization and group life are artificial. Or at least in so far as they lack har- mony with our instinctive demands they are un-natural or anti-natural. The conflict of impulse and environ- ment is regarded as a demonstration of the inhuman character of civilized life. Group life impedes the free exercise of the resplendent potentialities of individual nature. Impulse furnishes the norm of conduct. Utopia is found in the untrammeled (!) life of the savage. In poetic visualizations of savage life and re^ mote Golden Ages, as in many doctrines of revolt, there is more than a trace of this attitude. Civilization, it is urged, set impulse and reflection against one another. Selfishness feeds upon impulses that were generous be- fore calculation perverted them. Those who feel con- vinced of the original goodness of human nature will tend to regard the conventional moral code as 'merely conventional' in the derogatory sense. Ill The Function of Instinctive Tendencies 161 Human Nature Both Good and Bad The two attitudes considered arise from the same facts of conflict: the one converts a natural fact of mal-adjustment into a doctrine of the inherent vicious- ness of mherited nature; the other acquits native equipment of responsibility and places the blame upon the social order. It is easy to understand how a third compromising attitude arises. The claim is advanced that some instinctive tendencies are naturally good and others naturally bad and anti-social. Here we have the defects of both the other doctrines. The significance of this compromise lies in its indirect recognition that some instinctive tendencies are more easily repressed, directed or transformed, as the case may be, than others. The stronger the impulse and tte more recalcitrant it is, the greater the chances of disparity between it and its conditions. The moral conflict is interpreted as a dualism within human nature But folkways have a history. They were not enacted-they grew up. They have accordingly not been formulated through the guarded exercise of intel- ligence, but have been molded by the impact of superstition, of magical and animistic ideas and practices by religious attitudes and valuations, and m general by all the forces that operate within the field of historical development. The disparity between tendency and environment will therefore be entangled with many elements of feeling, fancy, and thought 162 The Basis of Social Theory derived from the social tradition. Impulses come to be named so as to express moral approbation or disap- probation. Because the terms imply different es- timates it is easy to assume the existence of as many distinct inherited tendencies. So we get a list of good and a list of bad inherited tendencies. It is not recog- nized that impulses in each list may be rooted in one and the same tendency. Thus the distinctions sug- gested by the complexities of experience are read back into original nature.^^ Common Fallacy in These Doctrines These doctrines rest on the common fallacy of ascribing to the tendency taken abstractly and ana- lytically as a unit of original nature qualities appear- ing only in the course of experience. The human being is by nature either saintly or villainous, or a monstrous hybrid. Properly speaking, these doctrines are neither right nor wrong — they are irrelevant. In- stinctive tendencies as such are neither good nor evil. The impulses they condition can be adjudged good or bad only in specified concrete conditions. No conduct is simply instinctive — it is instinctively conditioned. No impulse is simply acquired — but each is qualified by and through and in experience. The question of the value of an instinctive tendency, when the question is raised from the standpoint of morals, is always a concrete question; it refers always to a specific im- i^C/. Thorndike, Original Nature of Man, pp. 271-282. The Function of Instinctive Tendencies 163 pulse and train of action in specific physical and social conditions. The Problem of Control The real interest of the preceding discussion for the purposes in hand resides in the illustration afforded of the principle that the question of the utility of in- stincts in man is primarily a question of how they can be made useful. The proper question concerning any instinct is how and in what circumstances it can be made to subserve the best interests of social life. This points to the question of the control of instinctive tendencies. Control cannot mean simply repression or suppression, although in definable circumstances this may occasionally be the case. Modern psychology has done much to reveal the possible unfortunate con- sequences of interpreting control as suppression. When blocked along one line of action instinct tends to seek a different outlet. As we shall see more fully at a later stage of discussion, the conditions of group life require the control of instinctive energies not merely in the interests of the group but also in the interests of the individual's welfare. This control is truly effective only when it has in view the utilization rather than the suppression of instinctive energies. The social problem is that of compensating for the nat- ural ineffectiveness of instinct in changing environ- ments by a process of organization that is, in the broad sense of the term, educative. The conclusion suggested 164 The Basis of Social Theory by this discussion is that instincts cannot be left to themselves. And, in point of fact, they are never left to themselves, for even within groups that are primitive there is nevertheless social pressure directed upon them. The problem of their control is one of es- tablishing effective relations between the drive of in- stinct and the dynamic processes of social life. The problem continually presents two faces: on the one hand, the tendencies must be adjusted to environment, to that which exists, in so far as it is discovered and not made; on the other hand, the 'prosperity of ex- perience' can be secured only by remodelling the en- vironment, not in order to return to earlier conditions of natural commensurability of instinct and environ- ment, but in order that a richer and more ideal life may be provided for an animal endowment that is potentially a human career. CHAPTER V The Function of Capacities Deficiencies of Instinctive Tendencies In the preceding chapter the natural deficiencies of instinctive tendencies were noted. These deficiencies, we may add, increase rather than diminish with the growing complexity of civilized life. Or at least they become more observable and involve more important consequences. From the implications of this several consequences were drawn, especially that the condi- tions of highly evolved group life required that in- stincts be educated and reorganized to insure their utility. This leads to the consideration of the func- tions of human capacities since it is the possession of the latter that renders possible the social salvaging of instinctive tendencies. We must distinguish between what may be called the natural character and functioning of an instinctive tendency and that character and mode of expression developed by the impact of the social system and the social tradition. Of course, any and every instinctive operation, whatever its character and whatever influ- ences the instinct reveals, is in one sense natural 165 ti 166 The Basis of Social Theory Instinctive reactions express inherited tendencies and fall within the sphere of what is possible in so far as this is defined by original endowment. But in an- other sense the responses owing their character to so- cial pressure of some sort are not natural. They are not natural in so far as they are the result of specific cultural processes. When instincts have been brought into some measure of harmony with the totality of en- vironmental conditions, that is, have been fitted to the socially organized physical environment, to group customs, and to one another, the resultant is not due to experience in general or to the influence of the world of physical events as such. The reorganizaUon of instinctive tendencies is effected by specific con- tacts with specific social arrangements. These 'ar- rangements' or social products are immensely varied, for they include the totality of that which would not exist if there were no group life and no conUnuity in that life. Contacts between individuals, contact with the social tradition as transmitted by the conduct of men, by word of mouth or by books, or by the changes introduced into nature in the interests of group life- all these are included. Just how these contacts affect instinctive tendencies and how they are systematized and redirected is the problem of a physiological behavior-science. It is the question of mechanism. Here we are concerned only with the recognition of the sense in which the transformation of instinct is not natural. If art as a whole, for example, provides ft field for insUnct, this is a natural resultant of the The Function of Capacities 167' human constitution. On the other hand, it is obvious that the aesthetic irradiations of instinct depend for their existence upon specific social phenomena. Music, for example, may be a vehicle of instinct — but only where the social group possesses the vehicle. Since instinctive tendencies always function in some environment, we may draw a distinction between (1) the effects of experience when the tendency is function- ing within an environment in which the tendency, without specific revision, is normally an effective agency in the long run, and (2) the effects of expe- rience when the tendency functions in an environment radically different from the type of environment with which the tendency was identified throughout long biological periods. In the second case the tendency must be made to grow, by specific influences and efforts, in ways that it would not seek for itself in the absence of these specific circumstances. The natural primitive harmony having been lost, a new harmony must be secured through a process that is, in the pro- found sense of the word, educational. In the first of these cases, experience may affect a tendency directly in the sense that the tendency is modified by conse- quences following upon its natural mode of operation. Instinctive tendencies , are susceptible to improvement through exercise. They are more or less blind on the occasion of their first excitation and their natural end and consequences are but dimly anticipated. Their use, however, dispels this obscurity and improves the skill with which the activity is accomplished. Thus a f' 16^ The Basis of Social Theory hunting animal modifies its procedure by actually hunting. There may be improvements connected, for example, in catching scent, in scent discrimination, in allowing for air currents, in pursuit, stalking, leaping and seizing, and so on. But such changes are not exactly alterations: they lie within the natural drift of the tendency itself and are 'normaP in that they carry forward the natural function. They represent no diversion from simple channels of development but rather the consolidation of the tendency within such channels. But if the hunting animal falls into a trap, and thereafter modifies the instinct in the sense that new controls and methods of operation are adopted, these modifications reflect very special influences. Thus the animal may become more wary, may avoid contacts with man, may seek to discover human scent, and the like. Here new associations and discrimina- tions accompany important processes of integration within the impulse-action system of the animal. These changes result from the thwarting of impulse, the experience of checks and impediments: the instinct seeks to profit by pain and failure in the organization of new outlets. However exceptional this sort of thing may be in the life of animals, within human life and especially in complex civilizations such blockings of instinctive tendency are perhaps the rule. This has been made clear before by pointing to the conflict of tendency with altered environment, with the standardized ways of group life, and the conflict of tendency with tend- The Function of Capacites 169 ency fostered by the complexity of conditions. The demands for the modification of human instincts have their origin in the baulking of the tendency through ambiguities of situations, the intricacy of the social conditions of successful functioning, and the experi- ences of faflure. The social environment into which each individual is ushered at birth constitutes a speci- fic set of arrangements to which his instinctive tend- encies must be adapted. Only an extended survey of sociological and anthropological data would exhaust the varieties of such conditions. The arrangements may be viewed as group habits and customs, as in- stitutions, as 'physicar arrangements, or even as the habits and characters of individuals expressed in ac- tion. With any or all of these instinctive tendencies will conflict, and in fact some adjustment to circum- stances will be inescapable. The subordination of self-assertiveness, for example, to the real or assumed interest of the group may be effected by some type of initiation ceremony in savage life, by the inculcation of good manners, of a wider moral outlook and more ideal interests, in a civilized society and a cultivated family. The functioning of the elements of social or- ganization in chastening and controlling instinct may not be recognized. In some cases the modification of tendency may be deliberately brought about by agencies devised for the purpose. But in any case the modifications must occur since upon them the con- tinuity of group life depends. And it is a pre condition of sharing in the benefits of that life. no The Basis of Socml Theory It is the recognition of these facts, apparently, that suggests the statement, now become popular, that man IS not fit for society and civilizaUon. Man, it is claimed, is by innate endowment unsuited for the con- ditions of civilized life, especially in its modern form. The statement, in one sense, is obviously absurd. Unless by "the conditions of civilized life" or by "civ- ilization" we are to understand the physical environ- ment in vicious abstraction, to assert that man is not adapted to civilized life is equivalent to the assertion that he is not adapted to be himself. Man is surely responsible for his civilization. Indeed, civilization is man, and man is definable in terms of his civilization The statement that man is unfit for his civilization is meamngless when taken as a wholesale generalization But if the statement is intended to imply a recognition of the fact of conflict between natural impulse and a socialized world, it expresses an important truth Man meets himself in the world that he has reorgan- ized. CivilizaUon and the set of physical arrange- ments of civilization (for example, the total physical conditions of life represented by a huge modern city) require a correlation of feeling, thought, and action far removed from the relatively direct correlation of endowment and life-situations of the animal. Man's destruction of an immediate and direct correlation is an expression of the potentialities of human endow- ment. The conflicts of instinctive tendency and the conditions of civilization must therefore be regarded, not as a sign of wholesale unfitness for society and The Function of Capacities 171 civilization, but of the specific unfitness of impulse in its raw immediacy and a world in which only an or- ganized mind can be at home. Only if instinct must be excluded from the life of mind does it follow that civilization and instinct are necessarily in opposition. Instinct as natural impulse is necessarily in opposition to specific situations within civilized life. But for that matter, this is equally true of many efforts of intel- ligence and of disinterested emotions. This is the measure of truth in tiie statement we are examining. These discordances, however, are signs that instinct must be remodelled. Since civilized life has been de- veloped, in part, by the remodelling of instinct, the unfitness of untutored instinct is in itself a measure of the fitness that may be achieved. The situation de- fined by these considerations pictures tiie transition from animal endowment to organized mind and person- ality, a transition at once requisite and possible. In the light of this, the notion of man's unfitness for civilization seems absurd. The important implication of this discussion is found in the need for intelligent rather than haphazard modification of instinctive pro- pensities. Intelligent Modification of Instinct It is clear tiiat tiie alterations of instinctive tenden- cies secured by the cultivation of intelligence are more efficient, and, in complex society, ever more necessary than those changes conditioned by forces relatively 'i\i I i 172 The Basis of Social Theory extrinsic to sodal life. When the modifications are induced by contact with a highly organized social tradition, and by agencies that stimulate insight, fur- nish knowledge, and form character after the general pattern laid down by the ideals of the given group, instincts are in some degree made fit. Their deficien- cies are not merely counteracted in a negative fashion, as by suppression, but compensation is found by the disciplined integration of instinct within the structure of a personality that is organized with some measure of harmony and inclusiveness. This statement at least defines a social ideal, however painful the con- trast between achievement and goal. In so far as the development of an individual personality moves in this direction, impulses are made confluent and instinctive processes are validated by intelligence. The control of tendencies moves in the direction of self-control. But such changes are possible only because man's en- dowment contains much in addition to instinct. Capacities In this way we are led to consider the functions of those inherited tendencies previously listed as 'capaci- ties.' But here grave difficulties arise. The term 'orig- inal nature' is so apt to be limited to instinctive tend- encies that an atmosphere of unreality seems to cling to the notion of original tendencies that are neither instincts nor reflexes. But if original nature be a structural basis for human nature and conduct, then, .;■! The Function of Capacities 173 clearly, room must be assigned within that structure for a physically transmitted basis of what are com- monly called by the honorific term 'the higher powers' or faculties. This is following Wallas's advice con- cerning the need of projecting the whole of human equipment upon the same terminological plane. There are certainly aspects of human conduct not accounted for by instinct, if this term be used with measurable propriety. If it be carrying reaction against abuse too far to discard instincts, to supplant them with a vast assemblage of reflexes with no natural tendency to organization into higher systems and compounds, and to account for the latter wholly in terms of envi- ronmental influence, then it is equally absurd to at- tribute to environment the creation in a creature of mere reflexes those abilities that are regarded as the essence of intelligence. Finally, if it be agreed to as- sign an inherited basis for reflexes it seems illogical to deny such a basis for those activities generally re- garded as instinctive or as due to the 'higher faculties.' Accordingly we assign the term capacities to these inherited conditions or structural elements out of which come imagination, ideation, and intelligence. The task of enumerating capacities is beset with all the difficulties connected with the inventorying of in- stinctive tendencies. We can imagine a science of our physical heredity so perfected that it could furnish in its own analytic terms a definitive list of inherited elements of structure. But failing that, any enumera- tion must of necessity be provisional. The traditional 174 The Basis of Social Theory classifications of psychology might be followed. The assumption would be made that there are natural bases for attention, habit, memory, imagination, lan- guage, perception, and the like. These terms then would be taken as standing for just so many discrim- inable capacities. Or these terms might be taken as standing for the chief ways in which a more limited or a more extended list of capacities function in vari- ous combinations. But we cannot pass uncritically from such chapter-headings to a list of capacities any more than we can pass from distinguishable types of activity to a list of instinctive tendencies. Terms such as 'intelligence,' beaming,' and the like indicate at least the sort of activities, or aspects of activity, for which capacities furnish the inherited natural basis. Projecting these activities upon the same terminolog- ical plane with instinct, the task of analysis is indi- cated. What we have to seek are tendencies "requir- ing experience to develop them to a functional condition and taking their precise form from the pe- culiarities of the individual experience." * In place of further discussion of the difficulties of such an analysis, it may be more illuminating to con- sider Graham Wallas's treatment of the question. His statements are more acceptable for their concrete- ness than for their lucidity, but they will afford a con- venient basis for subsequent discussion. His belief, he states, is that "Intelligence is as truly a part of our inherited nature, and as independent a cause of hu- iWoodworth, Dynamic Psychology, Columbia Univ. Press, p. 61. The Function of Capacities 175 man action as any of the traditional lists of instincts," but "it is not a sufficient analysis of the facts merely to add a single disposition to the rest and call it In- telligence. There are at least two dispositions, Curi- osity and 'Trial and Error,' which sometimes cause action which is rather instinctive than intelligent, and sometimes action which is rather intelligent than in- stinctive. And there are two other dispositions (which I shall call Thought and Language) whose action is normally, if not invariably, intelligent." From this we gather that there are no less than four dispositions whose operation, separately or together, is or may be intelligent or in some sense a case of thinking. Curi- osity, it is said, "may be placed almost exactly on the doubtful line which divides Instinct from Intelligence. . . . But the behaviour characteristic of Curiosity is normally . . . accompanied by certain activities of our intellectual powers ... The heightening of atten- tion and memory acting on (his) organized system of ideas and experience becomes the essential element of the whole process." The disposition called "Trial and Error" is said to "provide a process by which an ani- mal can find a means of satisfying some strong instinc- tive desire, when the bodily acts characteristic of the simpler instincts have failed to do so. The Trial and Error process may take place, even among ani- mals, with little or no accompaniment of intelligence." As to Thought, it is stated that 'the essential func- tions ... are clearly intellectual." The disposition of Thought is defined as "the tendency to carry out r 1 176 The Basis of Social Theory the process of reflection or 'thinking/ . . . The chief external sign of Thought in this sense is a bodily in- ertia, which contrasts sharply with the tightened muscles of Curiosity, or the random movement of Trial and Error. The thinker is either perfectly still or performs unconsciously some monotonous and instinc- tive movement like walking. ... In the case of man . . . this bodily condition is strictly subordinate to a mental activity, consisting, in its simplest form, of an automatic succession of ideas and feelings, which, by a process not yet differentiated as memory, or imagina- tion, or reasoning, arrange themselves in organized relations. When once started, the process may sink below the level of consciousness, and may continue during sleep. . . .» The final disposition involved is Language, by which is meant "our inherited inclina- tion to express and to receive ideas by symbols. ..." * 'Intelligence' is used as a name for a type of action. The four dispositions. Curiosity, Trial and Error, Thought, and Language, give rise to this type of be- havior. On the one hand, curiosity is either an in- stinctive tendeivcy or may occasionally lead to action essentially instinctive in character. On the other hand it is also listed as an "Intelligence-disposition," if the term be permitted. Normally it is accompa- nied by "certain activities of our intellectual powers." Curiosity consequently seems to be both an instinct and an intellectual power. It would be closer to Wallas's standpoint to regard Curiosity as an instinc- 2 Wallas, The Great Society, Macmillan, 1914, pp. 4S-S1. The Function of Capacities 177 tive tendency, not listing it as an intelligence-disposi- tion, while insisting that each and every instinctive- disposition may be intrinsically involved in intelligent behavior. This interpretation conflicts somewhat with Wallas's listing Curiosity as an intelligence-disposition, while distinguishing instinct and intelligence within a single terminological plane. This is perhaps the reason why Curiosity is said to be on the dividing line between Instinct and Intelligence. The view that Wallas's discussion suggests may be stated as follows: Intelligence is a name for a type of activity, intelli- gent behavior; in this any and every combination of instinctive tendency and what we have called capaci- ties may be involved. Trial and Error and Thought are names for aspects of this activity, and Language its chief agency. And yet, on the other hand, he seems to suggest a different point of view in enumer- ating four dispositions as analytical terms for func- tions, whose single or conjoint operation may be called intelligent. Even Trial and Error, apparently, can operate in a non-intelligent way. But the former con- clusion is what appears most conformable to the gen- eral standpoint of his work. Whatever may be judged concerning these views of Wallas's they indicate the character of the problem. The term 'inherited capacities' suggests just such a varied list of abilities as: communication, language, the use of symbols; learning in general and learning by means of ideas; constructiveness and inventiveness; the utilization of natural objects as tools and the re- 178 The Basis of Social Theory shaping of them to adapt them as means for the ac- complishment of specific operations; the ability to check immediate reaction in order to reorganize re- sponse in the light of remote considerations and anti- cipated consequences; the ability not merely to suffer with comparative passivity the consequences of ac- tion but actively to profit by them by reconstructing experience; the power of invigorating imagination by the irradiations of instinct and of enlarging for in- stinct the world of existence through its extension into a world of imagination; the gift of being able to super- impose upon the selective action of sense-organs the selective functioning of attention; the development of transient flights of desire into permanent interests concretely expressing the structure of an individual mind and its social history; the capacity for finding new satisfactions within the realms of art and science; and numerous other abilities that might be suggested. The abilities indicated by such descriptive phrases are rooted in our inherited capacities. Such a list, it must be admitted, illustrates no single principle of discrim- ination. It suggests, however, that an adequate inven- tory of human activities tiiat imply something in addi- tion to instinctive grounds would possess a concrete- ness which is lacking in those classifications of mental powers descending from the notion of the faculties of tiie soul. Discourse would then be set free from the ambiguities of the tendency to identify soul, mind, consciousness, self, and psychical existence. An inter- The Function of Capacities 179 adjustment of biology, anthropology, comparative psychology and social psychology could be more easily effected. Inherited Basis of Capacities If capacities are to be regarded as innate tendencies, one must assume that they are in principle as much subject-matter of physiological and neurological in- vestigation as reflexes and instincts. The difficulties may be,' of course, greater. The search for a physio- logical basis for capacities — for ^thought', ^mind^, and 'wiir — is apt to encounter additional difficulty by run- ning counter to certain entrenched traditions. The conception of a rational human soul, essentially un- related to the body and of a higher origin had tended to make the physiological method of approach to the study of these 'rational functions' seem more or less irrelevant. Of this more will be said later. Here, however, we touch upon a set of diffused and unform- ulated opinions which have implied the inherent oppo- sition of Instinct and Intelligence, and this is probably in part responsible for the restriction of 'inherited tendency' so as to exclude capacities. Aligned with this is the after-effect of the faculty-psychology, em- bodied in our common terminology, and reflected back in covert ways into a psychology with which the doc- trine is irreconcilable. But from the point of view that is being followed out, these obscurative opinions fl 180 The Basis of Social Theory must be eliminated. We are concerned with the nat- ural basis of thinking, willing, and the like. We are not concerned with a physiological study of them but simply with the attainment of a unitary point of view by insisting that our capacities must be included with reflexes and instincts in the same universe of discourse. The chief names for our higher functions, such as thought and will, we are taking as names for types of activity, not for just so many irreducible inherited tendencies. Each may imply a number of tendencies functioning cooperatively. If attention, for example, be considered the expression of a single tendency, then this tendency is involved wherever there is remem- bering, imagining, thinking and the like. The prob- lem of discovering the ultimate terms of analysis to which these ^higher activities' are reducible is at bot- tom a problem for a science of heredity. In the ab- sence of such an analysis, we may carry forward dis- cussion by the use of current terms such as attention, memory, thought, and will, but without thereby im- plying the existence of corresponding unit-capacities. There is, accordingly, a double fallacy to be avoided. We must not set instinct and intelligence in necessary opposition to one another. Intelligent activity re- sults, not from the excitation of a single tendency, but from the conjoint operation of many tendencies; it represents a way in which the whole organism, with its equipment of reflex and instinctive tendencies and capacities, works in the midst of certain conditions. And this at the sanie time indicates the need of avoid- The Function of Capacities 181 ing the temptation to postulate as inherited capacities units corresponding to current names for ^higher func- tions.' This would be simply a translation of the lan- guage of the faculty-psychology into a different termi- nology without any gain in clarity of meaning. It is not proposed to attempt an inventory of inherited capacities, but simply to make clear the significance of the demand for a single terminological plane. Organic Plasticity There is, however, one general neurological or phys- iological property that furnishes a background for discussion seeking to remain upon a single plane. In- deed, this property might be regarded as the organic equivalent of the ^single terminological plane.' Plas- ticity, sometimes confined practically to the nervous system, is probably regarded more properly as a func- tion of all animate matter.^ Plasticity is sometimes looked upon as an inherited tendency. And of course, in a sense, this is true. But, on the other hand, plas- ticity might as well be regarded as a natural condition 'This property's function is generally said to be manifested in three ways, in impressionability, in retentiveness, and in reinstate- ment. To be plastic means to be impressionable, and hence modi- fiable; to be retentive of impression, that is, to suffer some degree of intrinsic alteration of tissue, means that the alteration perma- nently, in some measure, affects the subsequent activity of the tissue; and finally, it involves the re-instatement of the impression, by which is meant simply that the tissue is not merely momentarily altered, but changed in ways that make its future functioning reflect its previous experience. fiW 182 The Basis of Social Theory for the functioning of every tendency rather than as a tendency itself. Or finally, inherited tendencies might be regarded as differentiations of the basic fact of plasticity, the latter furnishing the common de- nominator of the tendencies. It is perhaps sufficient here to note the three possible interpretations, for in the final analysis they are by no means inconsistent. In its widest sense plasticity covers the whole range of facts concerned with the adjustment of a creature's life activities to environing conditions in so far as that adjustment depends on experience. Theoretically, since every original tendency becomes actualized only in and through its exercise in the process of adapta- tion, and since each requires some degree of exercise before it can be functionally established, each tendency may be regarded as plastic or else as conditioned by the general plasticity of the total system. Plasticity of nerve tissue, of course, reaches its highest degree in man. It is, moreover, possessed in greater measure by the higher centers of the nervous system than by the lower. Because man's nervous system is so highly modifiable, we are told, he possesses a capacity for learning, for organization in and through experience, and for turning to further advantage the results of previous activity, to a degree that no other animal approaches. The fact, or tendency, of plasticity, view it as we please, is implicated in every activity whether merely reflex, merely instinctive, or instinctive and intelligent. Plasticity is at the bottom of the process whereby immediate reaction is checked and systems The Function of Capacities 183 of responses built up. It was pointed out above * that with growth, learning, and experience, response comes to depend less and less upon the properties of the stimulus and more and more upon the inner condition of the organism. The stimuli come to act primarily as detonators setting off complicated trains of con- sequences; and these consequences in turn react upon the condition of the agent. In the process so described we find the expression of plasticity as the basis of all organization through experience. Triple Aspect of Plasticity This two-fold manner of conceiving plasticity re- quires further consideration. It is both conceivable (1) as inherited tendency, and (2) as a general prop- erty of organic tissue conditioning the operation, and organization, of every tendency. But this latter state- ment is equivalent to the assertion that every tendency is by nature plastic, modifiable. Or if we consider the organism in its totality, we can reverse this state- ment and go so far as to state, as indicated before, that inherited tendencies are simply (3) differentiated ways in which the adaptable organism expresses its nature under given circumstances. Inherited tend- encies are thus looked upon as names for the specific ways in which this general function of adaptation, is directed and pre-determined by the very structure of the organism. Inherited tendencies, from this point *c/. ch. m. 184 The Basis of Social Theory of view, represent the chief ways in which the plastic system yields to influences emanating from surround- ings. The inherited tendencies peculiar to a species are then the chief specific determinations from part to part of the system, the main structural features of the organization to be achieved by the organism. The benefit of looking upon plasticity from this viewpoint resides in its avoidance of the danger of thinking that inherited tendencies are as separate and separable in fact as in name, and of drawing hard and fast distinctions between the learned and the un- learned. It throws light upon the contention that every process implies natural inherited conditions which remain latent in the absence of certain envi- ronmental factors. We are apt to relapse into such fallacious views when learning, habit-formation, and the like are taken in independence of other inherited tendencies and made dependent upon plasticity alone. It has been asserted, against this, that instinctive tendencies are implicated in learning, thought, and will. It may well be said that that which learns at any moment, or thinks, or wills, is the total system as it exists at that moment. Instinctive tendencies learn, form habits, think and will. If this statement be condemned as exaggerated, one may retort that it is a needed counterbalance to the one-sidedness of the position that regards thinking and willing as functions alongside of, but independent of, all other tendencies. The disparagement implied by the invidious distinc- tion between the higher and lower functions is an The Function of Capacities 185 exaggeration of the same character. Statements to the effect that the play-impulse learns or the instinct of pugnacity remembers seem offensive when projected against a background defined by older terminological usages. But a change of wording robs such state- ments of their strangeness. Is it psychologically un- sound to state that a child learns because he plays, or while playing, or in order to play? Or that an individual remembers because he is pugnaciously in- clined in a definite direction? Such statements at least have the merit of showing that the isolation of tendencies — and their inventorying — are primarily conveniences of analysis. The translation of the 'single terminological plane^ into 'plasticity' brings into view again the fact that the organism — or human nature — is a unitary thing. And furthermore, it puts into better light the process by which inherited tendencies are modified and transformed in the direc- tion demanded by environmental and social condi- tions, and gives assurance that such alterations are not extrinsic, but are alterations intrinsic to the growth of human nature as found in human individuals. Instinct, Learning, and Capacities With this view of plasticity as a background, we may turn to a closer consideration of the relation of instinctive tendencies, learning, and the function of capacities. From one point of view, the function of instinctive tendencies is to inaugurate the learning 186 The Basis of Social Theory process. The modifications of these instmcts by intel- ligence means the participation of these tendencies in a learning process. If learning from one point of view be taken as a process of modifying and organiz- ing instinctive tendencies, it may be considered from another point of view as a process of developing systematic control of the arousal, the activity, and the satisfactions of instinctive cravings. Instinctive tend- encies, it was said, sketched the chief aims of life. Again, such tendencies were regarded as launching the organism upon its pursuit of these ends. While the natural tendency merely delineates the end in general outline, so too it merely fixes the general type of action related to that end. But just as the end is indefinitely varied in specific traits from individual to individual and from moment to moment, just so is the course of action allied therewith. That is, the launching of the organism upon a course of action leading to a type of aim is that which native constitu- tion suggests. Once the action begins, however, it is subject to the vicissitudes of life and hence to the restraining and redirecting influences of environment. Nature thus provides the impetus and outlines the goal; but the discovery of the means is the task of learning. As the specific content of the end changes so do the means. This is what the assertion that instinctive tendencies inaugurate the learning process means. Without specific aims, action would be desultory and meaningless; and without the impetus instinctively conditioned aims would be merely objects lii The Function of Capacities 187 of abstract contemplation. Impulse and aim define the sphere within which learning becomes a matter of vital concern since it alone can assure the mastery of means. In this way the field within which our capacities find their primary function is defined by instinctive tendencies. Capacities, in the sense in which we have agreed to use the term, constitute the natural basis of learning and thought. Or, in other terms, the functioning of certain capacities is what should be called learning in the general sense of the word. Capacities are thus ancillary to the process of attain- ing ends depicted by instinctive tendencies. Capacities, as the inherited basis and the natural conditions of learning, are primarily instruments for increasing the efficacy of action. They do not originally define ends of action nor do they lay claim to satisfactions peculiarly their own. Were instinc- tive tendencies so organized in an environment so ideally suitable that their functioning in natural ways completely harmonized with the conditions of success- ful life-activity, capacities would be in that measure deprived of importance. Or were the universe so ideally simple that the processes of nature consisted of a few monotonous rhythms, an animal endowed with a few properly correlated reflexes and instincts would find plasticity and capacities to be useless luxuries if not actual impediments. That human life in such imaginary worlds would not be human at all goes with- out saying. But in an environment such as ours un- I 188 The Basis of Social Theory yielding instinctive tendencies would be clumsy beyond description. Flexibility is the chief condition of their possessing any uUlity at all. Hence our capacities for forming habits, for attention, discrimination, recol- lection, anticipation, and thought are instruments so precious that it is not surprising to find their cultiva- tion becoming an end in itself. Intelligence, to use that term as a short-hand expression for our capacities, is thus first of all an instrument of action. Life is ac- tion, and the first meaning of every factor of human nature is given by its place in the stream of activity. If plasticity be taken for the moment as defining the single terminological plane; and if instinctive tenden- cies be regarded as the primary differentiations in the stream of activity that is the organism's life; then the modifiability of instinctive tendencies expresses the flexibility of that stream of activity itself. That so- called "persistence with varied effort" so characteristic of living forms is rich with meaning. The fact of per- sistence signifies that in the system of nature as we find it the primary differentiations in the stream of action are fundamental. It reflects on the one hand constitu- tive features of the environment and on the other hand the relativity of life's structures and functions to envi- ronment. The fact that persistence in a course of ac- tion is characterized by varied effort signifies the flexi- bility of those structures and functions. At the same time it implies the relativity of environment to the living form since this flexibility is most advantageous when it shapes environment to the needs of life. Why The Function of Capacities 189 food-getting should be a primary differentiation of ac- tion hardly needs discussion; nor is it necessary to point to the advantages of varying effort as circum- stances dictate. What is now needed is to project capacities against this background. In this perspec- tive they are seen to be, not primary differentiations in the action-stream, nor objectives of persistence, but discernible features of the general fact of plasticity securing for effort its most successful variations. Intelligence, defined for the sake of brevity as the totality of capacities, constitutes the instrument where- by activity is most fruitfully varied and reconstructed and means and ends adjusted to one another. But as the growth of civilization involves in fact a mul- tiplication of needs corresponding to a like multiplica- tion of aims, the primary differentiations of the stream of action are submitted to many additional differentia- tions. At the same time, the intricacy of conditions are manifest in the length and variety of linkages (at once 'social' and 'physical') between needs and satisfactions. Intelligence itself is largely responsible for the creation of this situation. The cumulative effects of discovery and invention, of re-shaping and re-constructing things, together with the progressive differentiations and specializations in the activities of classes and individuals in the social group, bring about this highly elaborate state of affairs. But the altered situation, the result of the exercise of our endowment of capacities, then places a premium upon the cultiva- tion and ever more adequate utilization of the very 190 The Basis of Social Theory factors producing the situation. In so far as intel- ligence remodels the world by canalizing its streams of change, just in that measure it places upon itself the responsibility for the successful issue of the efforts springing from instinctive endowment. Impulse, stimulating imagination, has often sought power by devising the agencies of magical arts and by trans- forming things into the fetish or the talisman. It has found power more successfully, however, by submis- sion to intelligence. And intelligence has attained ef- ficiency by loyalty to the structure of Nature. In the practical, as in the fine arts, it is wise to observe the limits set by the media. Intelligence as an Instrument of Action The statement that intelligence is first of all a servant of the interests conditioned by instinctive tendencies is apt to be regarded as somewhat degrad- ing to the dignity of man as a rational animal. It may also be criticized as an entirely one-sided account of its function. The latter point is pertinent only when it is forgotten that the view of intelligence as an in- strument of action is put forth only as a statement of its natural and primary function. To those who in- sist that there are ends and goals in life set by intel- ligence itself, the reply is that such a proposition, properly interpreted, in no wise contradicts what has been asserted. Everything that precedes is a prepara- tion for an insistence upon the point that only when The Function of Capacities 191 the aim delineated by instinctive tendencies is given its content and organization by intelligence can that aim be admissible in the group-life of man. If the w^hole career of the individual is instinctively condi- tioned, that career is also conditioned by the posses- sion of capacities. Otherwise there is little meaning in the "single terminological plane." Just because intelligence is so remarkable an instrument, it should be, and in fact comes to be, cultivated for its own sake, as it were. It is an extraordinary fact that just by neglecting, within limits, the utilitarian and instru- mental function of intelligence, it is possible to realize that function more adequately. It is, for example, hardly a paradox, save in appearance, to assert that science becomes more practical, more serviceable, by becoming more theoretical and indifferent to the possibility of practical application. The reason for this is not far to seek: if our attention be dominated by momentary needs and our interests focussed upon what is immediately and 'practically' urgent, the range of intelligence is constricted, its activity fitful, and the multiplicity of present events so distracting that the persistence, single-mindedness, and independence re- quired for far-reaching success are unattainable. The fact that we cannot think well when we are over- fatigued, or too hungry, thirsty, warm or cold, is a matter of similar import. Aloofness from the pressure of urgent but limited practical demands enables thought, or science, to clarify its concepts, purify its method, enlarge its vision, and to construct its abstract 192 The Basis of Social Theory and simplified world. It may be impossible to assert that every achievement of pure science will sooner or later come to have practical bearing and application, in the common-sense meanings of the phrase. Obviously this doubt hinges upon the meaning given to the ^practical.' In one sense, anything that is of concern to human beings is practical. But here, using the term in the restricted meaning of common-sense, we are interested only in making clear that aloofness from the 'practical* may be an important element of method in inquiry. This is the paradox that the neglect of the instrumental function is or may be instrumental to the more efficient use of the instru- ment. There is, of course, a penalty that the nature of things attaches to a too-thorough neglect of this sort. Intelligence may become so disconnected from life that it becomes an irrelevance, and its activities mere fantastic elegancies. Even magical arts may reflect intelligent organization. After all, the experi- mental method of science is at bottom the practical application of intelligence. If the term 'science' is deprived of its eulogistic connotations, and science be looked upon as simply an effort to think well, its experimental method is only another name for the fact that thinking means dealing with things, with getting something, however ideal, accomplished, — in short 'practical application.' In this sense there is no difficulty with the assertion that intelligence posits ends of its own, provided the statement does not imply the fallacy of divorcing 'instinct' and 'intelligence' or The Function of Capacities 193 confuse distinctions in discourse with unrelatedness in existence. When we shall have considered below the relation of instinctive tendencies and intelligence, we shall be able to deal more fully with the objections of those who are offended by the description of intel- ligence as an instrument. In the meantime, the presence of 'intelligence' is to be regarded as nature's compensation, so to speak, for the deficiencies of in- stinctive tendencies. The capacities are, at any rate, the basis and the means of learning. Intellectualism and Anti-intellectualism A very real problem is at issue in the foregoing discussion. It is the problem set by the opposed doctrines of Intellectualism and Anti-intellectualism. A brief exposition of this opposition, whether or no such discussion can present a tenable conclusion, will at least place in better perspective the problems raised in this chapter. It is the above problem that forms the background of Wallas's discussion of Thought and is responsible for its unclearness. The extreme intel- lectualist doctrine, perhaps more fashionable some time ago than today, insisted that thought or reason was the dominant driving power in human conduct. Men were thought of as essentially rational, and their behavior, in consequence, must necessarily be the out- come of intellectual processes. The motivation of human conduct resided, then, in the human capacity 194 The Basis of Social Theory for reflection and analysis, and for acting with indif- ference to the pushes and pulls of passion, feeling, and desire. Or, if this be not true in point of fact, it is so de jure. This extreme doctrine naturally pro- voked an opposed doctrine. The anti-intellectualist position is not merely a reaction, but is a consequence also of the influence of biological science and historical method. This position may be illustrated by a quotation from McDougall, selected by Wallas as an instance of the anti-intellectualist view: "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 satisfactions, while pleasure and pain do but serve to guide them in their choice of the means. "Take away these instinctive dispositions with their powerful impulses, and the organism would be- come incapable of activity of any kind; it would lie inert and motionless like a wonderful clockwork whose The Function of Capacities 195 mainspring had been removed or a steam-engine whose fires had been drawn . . ." '^ Wallas criticizes this position on two counts: first, in that McDougall "does not project his facts as to Reason and Instinct on to one plane. He distin- guishes between instinctive impulses' and 'intellectual apparatus.' " Second, he does not hold as does Wallas, "that we are born with a tendency, under appropriate conditions, to think, which is as original and independ- ent as our tendency, under appropriate conditions, to run away." * Woodworth has subjected McDougall's position to a somewhat different criticism. This author, we have seen, would include not only reflexes, instinctive tend- encies, and capacities in our native equipment, but also certain specialized capacities to be called " 'ap- titudes' or 'gifts' for certain activities, or for dealing with certain classes of things".'^ He indicates the nature of these aptitudes by referring to such expres- sions as 'a natural gift for music,' or for mathematics, mechanics, or salesmanship. He admits that these, or some like these, may be complex, but insists that "there is something specific about many of them, such that an individual who is gifted in one direction is not necessarily gifted in another." » Presumably, Wood- worth's classification would agree with that which has ^ Intro, to Social Psychology, 14th ed., p. 45. « Wallas, op. cit., p. 40. ^Woodworth, Dynamic Psychology, p. 59. ^Ibid., p. 59. ill t : I 196 The Basis of Social Theory been adopted in this book; or if there be disagreement, it concerns the question as to whether these specific aptitudes are to be listed in addition to what we have called capacities or are to be regarded as slight but fruitful variations in the character of these capacities. This may be, after all, merely a verbal difference. At any rate, with the addition of aptitudes to our equip- ment, Woodworth's classification harmonizes with that of this book. Woodworth expresses his position as follows: "Native equipment may be conceived as consisting of mechanisms either fully formed, as in the case of breathing, or growing of themselves to full functional condition, as in the case of those instincts that mature after birth, or requiring experience to develop them to a functional condition and taking their precise form from the peculiarities of the individual experience, as in the case of capacities. . . . Those native mech- anisms that act as drives are of special importance, since they are prime movers, or ultimate springs of action in the lives of men or animals. The motives of the adult are derived by a continuous genetic proc- ess from the motive forces inherent in his nature." * Woodworth's difference with McDougall arises when the question occurs as to whether the instincts alone are these prime movers. The former insists that the native capacities would be excluded from the latter's list of instincts, and that they would be regarded by McDougall as mechanisms requiring drive and not as ^Ibid., p. 61. il The Function of Capacities 197 drives themselves. "The question is, whether the mechanisms for the thousand and one things which the human individual has the capacity to do are them- selves wholly passive, requiring the drive of these few instincts, or whether each such mechanism can be directly aroused and continue in action without assist- ance from hunger, sex, self-assertion, curiosity, and the rest." ^^ It is admitted, of course, that instincts sometimes furnish drives for other mechanisms. But the question is whether without exception the motive lies outside the mechanism by which the specific action is carried on. Woodworth's position is then that in- stincts are great drives, but that in addition our capacities, particularly specialized aptitudes, can furnish their own drive. Perhaps in some cases the drive that is intrinsic in a specialized aptitude is not set going until affected by an extrinsic drive that comes from the instinctive equipment; or perhaps in many cases, the two drives combine; but in any event, every inherited mechanism possesses in right its own intrinsic drives. By contrast, McDougalPs position seems to be that instincts alone possess drive. McDougall has replied to Woodworth's criticisms. He admits his agreement as to "the reality and variety of the specialized native capacities." " The point at issue, when stated in terms of drive and mechanism, is whether every mechanism is also a drive. McDougall insists that even the most deeply rooted acquired »o/6irf., pp. 66-7. 11 McDougall, Motives in the Light of Recent Discussion, Mind, vol XXIX, 1920, p. 282. i*j i\ 198 The Basis of Social Theory habits possess no intrinsic drive.^* He states that the motor habit "determines how we shall execute our pur- poses, but does not sustain and prompt the doing." ^* He adds that the proviso that the habit contains its own intrinsic drive so long as it has not become entirely automatic (a proviso made by Woodworth)^* is fatal to the doctrine, for it is difficult to see why the drive should not become all the more intense as the habit becomes more fixed. If repetition builds up the mechanism and the drive, why should both not be built up as the mechanism is perfected? Further with respect to the drives alleged to be contained in our specialized aptitudes (and we should add, in capacities generally), McDougall asserts that talent and interest are not always conjoined, and that the development of a high degree of skill by the exercise of the talent does not develop the inner motive and interest inevit- ably in the same degree. And finally, he insists on the undeniably complex character of any such special- ized aptitude. If the aptitude be analyzed into its component elements, it becomes increasingly difficult to conceive that each element has its own drive.^'^ This whole discussion suffers from the obscurity in which the nature of aptitudes and of general capacities is left. Where specialized ability is manifest, there, doubtless, is a corresponding inherited basis. But the basis is not accounted for by postulating a specialized i2/6«f., p. 282. " Ibid., p. 283. ^*0p. cit., p. 104. ^^Qp. cU., pp. 28S-6. The Function of Capacities 199 aptitude or gift ad hoc. The general unspecialized capacities are also involved. Two attitudes are possible: (1) We may assert that the talent rests on a single component, the specialized aptitude, plus general capacities and the instinctive equipment. Or, (2) it is possible to deny the existence of a specialized aptitude in the sense of a single component, and regard what is called the aptitude as a happy combination of variations in general capacities. It is possible to add a third view: The talent may rest upon a number of discriminable components (as musical talent "implies superiority in tone-discrimination, appreciation of rhythm, of time, of tone-relations" (to use McDougalFs illustration), and the operation of all these components in combination with all the capacities and instinctive equipment produces the 'talent.' The chief problem here is apparently one of concep- tion. It has been urged that we cannot omit from inherited nature the capacities, that is, tendencies (to make use of Woodworth's phraseology) "requiring experience to develop them to a functional condition and taking their precise form from the peculiarities of the individual experience." Omitting, for the time being, the specialized aptitudes, the striking char- acteristic of our capacities is their generalized char- acter. They provide no specific readiness to handle one type of subject-matter rather than another; but this assures the utility of the capacities with respect to any and every kind of subject-matter. This char- acteristic of capacities is an extension of the relatively *i/(;.i 200 The Basis of Social Theory non-specific character of many instincts in man, and in general corresponds to the generalized structure of his whole being. The specialized aptitudes, taken either as variations in general capacities or as addi- tional elementary components, furnish a natural basis for some especial proficiency; but the general capac- ities as such are marked by generality rather than specific direction. While instinctive tendencies in man, when compared with some possessed by animals, are relatively non-specific, when compared with human capacities, they are relatively specific. Instinctive tendencies are concerned in the main with ends important to the individual and the species. The dif- ficulty that we face when trying to think together in- stinctive tendencies and capacities springs from the difficulty of avoiding the suggestions of isolation and abstraction that formulations involve. The danger is that instincts and capacities may be thought of as apart from one another. But in fact they are structurally complementary. In function they unite in intricate ways. Capacities generalize instinctive tendencies. In this seems to reside the essence of McDougalPs position. Capacities extend the range of instinctive tendencies, secure their irradiation throughout every field of experience, and tap their energies in the interests of multitudinous ends. The difficulties in conceiving this are caused by a too ex- ternal notion of these relations. We are apt to think that the instinctive tendency remains self-inclosed and exclusive, attached in merely external ways to the •M' The Function of Capacities 201 fields of our interests. But concretely they are con- stitutive of our interests. It is the instinctive tend- ency itself which is generalized: there is a genuine organic union of instinct and capacity. This may be suggested by the phrases used before, as when it was said that in a sense an instinct may remember, imagine, or even think. The discussion of organic plasticity as a general condition qualifying from the start the operation of instinctive tendencies suggests the same point of view. When we conceive the relation of instinctive tend- encies and capacities in the way that has been sug- gested, and avoid a too mechanical method of thought, McDougalPs position may be deemed satisfactory, at least in a preliminary sense. It is difficult to under- stand the need of drives intrinsic to capacities when their essential character is their extreme generality. That mechanisms organized through their exercise possess drives may be explained if we take the role of instinctive tendencies in a sufficiently plastic sense. The organization of these mechanisms may be regarded as an organization of the drive or drives of instinctive tendencies: the mechanism makes its own the drive of instinct. Certainly, if capacities have their own drives, they must be very general. Capacities have general ends; or, perhaps, it were more accurate to maintain that their chief end is precisely the absence of any specific end. Just because they are not directed toward specific ends, they are capable of functioning in the organization of an indefinite number of ends. m 202 The Basis of Social Theory And so they may reconstruct the untempered ends of instinct and attach the drive of instinct to ends re- flecting the constructiveness of intelligence. The primary office of capacities, from one point of view, is in connection with means; and the mechanisms they develop are first of all means to ends. It is only after cultivation that capacities themselves give rise to a series of ends so closely related to the interests of these capacities that they seem indigenous to intel- ligence. Because capacities are primarily instru- mental, there is no reason why they should not come to be cultivated largely for their own sake. Ears assuredly do not exist in order that men might enjoy music. But having ears, it is an historical fact that men do come to create musical art. In this cultiva- tion of capacities it is again the drives of instinctive tendencies seeking for natural impulse an ideal out- let. Woodworth's position is strongest in the case of the specialized aptitudes or gifts. At first sight, it would appear necessary to credit such tendencies with intrinsic drives. The difficulty, however, arises from the fact that wherever we are in a position to recognize such an aptitude we are already concerned with the results of much special experience and many specific contacts. There are, perhaps, cases of extraordinary precocity in a specific field; ability or genius is re- vealed in some cases where there has been little ex- perience in the field involved. Upon the first occasions, so to speak, unusual fitness for dealing with The Function of Capacities 203 certain materials is apparent. But even if the ex- perience with the material is abbreviated, the existence of intrinsic drive is not demonstrated. The general capacities are involved. Further, as previously stated, the aptitude is not simple but in itself complex and resolvable, in principle, into a number of components. The possession of the aptitude, accordingly, would involve the fortunate coincidence of each of these components occurring in one and the same individual. It is hard to attribute to each component of an ap- titude an intrinsic drive. Unless we could confine the analysis of aptitudes to the discrimination of a few components, we should be providing an individual with a large number of components and a correspond- ingly large number of drives, so that the combination of these units and the confluence of these numerous drives would not be easily conceived. The single drives of a component, say a drive intrinsic in the possession of ability to discriminate tones, taken by itself, will not insure musical ability, as composer, performer, or listener, or even a love of music. On the whole, some simpler hypothesis would be prefer- able. It is worth while adding a general observation. In all the problems connected with the analysis of original nature, with the discussion of the function of the various components, and with the questions de- bated by the intellectualists and anti-intellectualists, it is vital not to lose sight of the fact of the unity of the organism. If the organism be a unity, an or- f1 I( =11 mill i 204 The Basis of Social Theory ganized system, then in all behavior the totality of the system is implicated. It is fallacious to take inherited tendencies in a purely isolated and abstract way: it is the fallacy of the faculty-psychology all over agam. This is not to deny the province of analysis. But it does mean that, when all is said and done, that which becomes angry, feels sexual passion, is loyal to friends, solves scientific problems, and writes poetry, in short, performs a multitude of activities and lives through many experiences, is a single being, the organism, the man. Moral Basis of the Objections In point of fact, much of the criticism directed against the position that is called anti-intellectualism is based not so much on psychological grounds as on grounds that might be broadly characterized as moral. A few words concerning this will place the standpoint of this chapter in clearer light. the position that finds the motivation of action in instinctive energies is committed to the view that "capacities" must be understood as primarily instru- ments in the service of life-processes whose ends are not created by 'higher' rational power. The ends and purposes of life, it follows, have no remote and peculiar source in some mysterious endowment. Recalling what was asserted concerning the organism in its totality, and the earlier statements that instinctive tendencies might be considered as the prime dif- The Function of Capacities 20S ferentiations of the living being's stream of action, it is consistent to assert that the ends of action, in their general outline, are the reflection of these primary differentiations. Against such a position, we meet the protest that such conceptions mean the degradation of the human mind and personality. It may be said that it relieves intelligence of responsibility, and commits life to whim, desire, and the caprices of impulse. The cultivation of reason can only mean a preparation for a more expert gratification of impulse. The concept of the rational soul, uncontaminated by commerce with the body, at least overcame this dif- ficulty. Such objections are unfounded. Intelligence is an instrument — but it must not be called in derogation merely an instrument. This carries with it a danger- ous separation of means and ends, impulse and sat- isfaction, origins and outcomes. To conceive capac- ities as instrumental is not derogatory. On the contrary the privileged position of intelligence as an instrument throws a better light upon its character and explains why its cultivation must be the chief concern of society and the individual. The concept of the rational soul did not secure a loftier view of human life. If reason provides a more expert gratifica- tion of impulse, it does so in point of fact whether reason be an instrument or not. If instinct and intel- ligence, impulse and reason, be separated, insoluble difficulties will inevitably appear in psychological in- quiry. Ethical and social constructions built upon such HI 206 The Basis of Social Theory a psychological basis will be prejudiced from the be- ginning. The ambiguities encountered in ethical and social inquiry will be very often regarded as natural to such inquiry because their real origin in the psychologi- cal foundations is not recognized. The antithesis in- stituted between instinct and intelligence is generally smothered in mechanical compromises. But in the unity of the organism why should there be such com- plete severance of function from function? Everything contended for in preceding chapters should indicate the responsibility of intelligence rather than its irresponsibility. Because instinctive tend- encies must be adjusted to altered physical conditions, to social organization, and to one another, a premium is placed upon the exercise of intelligence. Civiliza- tion, instead of progressively revealing the unfitness of man for the habitat he has made for himself, reveals the fertility of his endowment. From this point of \'iew our capacities, far from being instruments to be used fitfully and casually, appear to be the prime condition of social advance. If our capacities signalize at one and the same time the amazing flexibility of our structure and the serious limitations of instinct, they also enlarge our conception of what may possibly be generated from the persistence and effort of life. The exercise of intelligence is demanded because the totality of conditions, environmental and organic, issue continually in situations whose strain and uncertainty are prophetic of unexplored futures. The hazards that beset the career of instinct, or to state the fact more The Function of Capacities 207 largely, of life, suggest the opportunities of intel- ligence. Action becomes truly intelligent and rational, not when it lays claim to a unique source, but when it is controlled by a purpose whose outline is depicted by the primary differentiations in the process of life and when its concreteness of significance is the fruit of imagination and thought nourished by the tested fruits of the social tradition. A mere propensity becomes the pursuit of an ideal in the sphere of imagination and its energies become available for its embodiment in the world of nature. To interpret the conflicts of life as the antagonism of instinct and its alleged antithesis, intelligence, is to tear apart the unity of life. Were it true that pure passion on the one side competes with pure passionless rationality on the other side, passion would never meet defeat and rationality could make no impression upon life. The picture, however, is artificial. Such a battle could never be joined. The facts of adjustment, with their strains and pains, really present an utterly different picture. There are antagonists. But the antagonists are processes springing from a common root in the stream of action. On both sides there are passions, instincts, meanings, images, anticipations. On both sides there is ^intelligence' energized by 'instinct' and 'instinct' guided by 'intelligence.' And intelligence possesses, not the responsibility of spectatorial impartiality, but the responsibility of intimate participation. P, n CHAPTER VI The Problem of Control Selves and Society The inherited tendencies discussed before constitute the natural basis, the raw material, of the self. In their organized and socialized unity they form the self. The attainment of this self, as has been noted, is conditioned by an environment that is primarily social. The relation between the self at any stage and its environment is one of give-and-take. The human being at any moment is the resultant of a long series of selective activities. This fact is sometimes called the socialization of the self. But such a phrase seems to imply the prior existence of a self which is then socialized. The proper meaning should be that selves appear only where there is society. Selves in one sense are no more socialized than is society. Society, from one point of view, confronts at every moment its own product, selves; but it is equally true that selves simultaneously confront their product, society. Selves, then, are not socialized. But every constituent in- herited factor has a social setting and a career in social life. This social history is what should be intended ao8 The Problem of Control 209 by the socialization of the self, of its instinctive tend- encies and capacities. These general considerations define the setting with- in which the problems concerning individuals and societies arise. These problems are innumerable and have many forms. In this chapter, and in general outline, certain aspects of these problems will be con- sidered by way of conclusion to the sketch of the foundations for social psychology. We may begin with a cursory examination of some aspects of the social setting in which the problems arise. fl Unity In the first place, social life is unified and this unity is continuous in time. The unity and continuity of society depend on the joint action of natural condi- tions, biological conditions, and the psychological con- ditions constituting human nature. Society is a name for a world in which selves exist; and selves are, in one function, bearers and transmitters of this unity through time. This fact of unity rests upon many conditions. It is, indeed, the expression of in- escapable pre-requisites for the existence of any group life at all. Social unity, in some measure, is then not an achievement of group life but an element in the definition of what group life is. We cannot unify society. If there be society as object of thought and condition of action, there is already the fact of unity. That which may be accomplished, perhaps, is an im- 210 The Basis of Social Theory provement of that unity; its change from a fact that is simply natural to a condition in which it is both natural and rationally ordered. Uniformity The unity and continuity of society may be the result, in the main, of sameness and uniformity in the beliefs, attitudes, and activities of its members. Same- ness and uniformity are, in principle, characteristic in some measure of every society. The fact that the environment, as physical, is a common environment is in part responsible for this. In addition, the fact of uniformity in the structure of human beings, however interpreted, acts as a strain making for approximations to uniformity. There is nothing more mysterious in this than the plain fact that components of human societies are drawn from one species of animal, the human kind. Samenesses and uniformities, moreover, may be the result of taking account of, and reacting to, significant differences in such a manner that a uniformity of integration is attained. This leads to the observation that, if sameness and uniformity be a characteristic of every society, it is equally true that every group life presents elements of difference and variety within its total system. If it be true that wherever we have group life, there we have uniform- ities; it is equally true that, wherever we find group life, there we also have variety in the patterns of mentality and action. Foregoing discussions render The Problem of Control 211 unnecessary any prolonged explanation of the fact, but the principal considerations may be briefly re- capitulated. Original constitution is never identical for any two beings. Each human being, at every stage, is a differential and differentiating factor. He is driven by his constitution to seek that in the social system which may nourish his differences, and there- by he becomes a producer of differences. And this is but to state that wherever there are societies, there are found selves. Such a fact, again, is not invented; it is found. The Static and the Dynamic Society The import of the constitutive principles so enumerated are placed in more striking perspective when the distinction between the static and dynamic society is instituted. The adjective ^dynamic' is frequently applied to our Western societies as though this adjective assigned to them a peculiar character. The dynamic society is thought of as relatively ex- ceptional in the history of man. But life cannot persist literally unchanged and unchanging. The distinction between the static and the dynamic society is a matter of degree; but arising from this difference of degree, when that difference of degree becomes suf- ficiently great, is a difference that is qualitative. The dynamic society is a changing society, but clearly it is one in which the changes are varied, multiple, cumulative, and rapid. The mere fact of rapid change. .rl^^i m 212 The Basis of Social Theory however, would not make a society dynamic. Changes that are catastrophic, — the destructiveness of wars pursued almost to extermination, virtual enslavement, far-reaching effects of the natural vicissitudes to which life is subject, the gradual but profound alterations produced by the inter-mingling of racial stocks, — these, and similar causes, do not make a society djmamic. A society that is dynamic is one that changes; but this characteristic of continual change is marked by an axis of continuity running through the changes. The alterations are in large measure organically con- nected with the structure and functioning of the exist- ing social system. Whatever may be the relatively external occasions for the transition from a static con- dition to a dynamic one, the essential forces involved are bound up with elements inherent in the organiza- tion of group life. A society, in short, is not dynamic unless the momentum and directions of change are expressions of the principles defining its organization. The conception of society as an organism has many defects that restrict its utility. This is especially true with respect to the static society. But with respect to a dynamic society it conveys a sense of movement, of growth, of a developmental process whose vital causal factors reside within the moving system itself. And consequently a society suffering a radical alteration of its character because it has been overwhelmed by a catastrophe cannot be called 'dynamic' The later state of affairs has no organic or organized relation to the earlier conditions. The Problem of Control 213 There is, however, an additional feature that more than any other characterizes the dynamic condition of a society. This is the fact that not only do changes occur and not only are the changes related to the totality of the social system, but the fact of change is recognized, is thought about, and related to con- sciously entertained convictions, purposes, and ideals. Alterations are not merely noted as matters of fact. They become subject-matter for reflection. They are judged in the light of the social tradition and in terms of their possible utility and fruitfulness. The trans- forming processes evoke attitudes of approval or dis- approval, of hope or of fear. As a result of the ex- perience of innovations and of their happy or unhappy consequences mind and imagination are stimulated. Undoubtedly the stimulation of mind, however oc- casioned, is one cause of the transition to a dynamic condition. But in a retroactive fashion the dynamic condition still further stimulates mind. By produc- ing a contrast between the old and the new, the ac- complished and the possible, mind is forced to oscil- late between recorded past and existent present on the one hand and anticipated possibilities of the future on the other hand. Within the situation defined by these points, approval and disapproval become trans- lated into active processes of hostility or cooperation. To prevent or to promote changes becomes a conscious purpose. Out of resultant conflicts there may be precipitated, as a sort of common denominator, the effort to give intelligent control to processes in a 214 The Basis of Social Theory society whose tendencies to alter may be checked in their particularity but not in their totality. In this vast process, it is clear that the first step is the discern- ment of the social system by mind. Thereupon the social system is recognized as forming both the condi- tions and materials of efforts to control. The dynamic society is regarded as a theater of action and an op- portunity for the realization of aspirations. Social purposes become explicit and foreseen futures op- erative in the present. Changes occur and advantage is taken of them, changes are made to occur in order that advantages may be obtained. Change defines both the problem of intelligence and its success. Where the unity of society is grounded almost wholly upon rigid uniformities,^ society is relatively static. 1 These uniformities are variously called customs, conventions, folk-ways, the mores, and they form a large part of tradition. Here the chief fact is that of habit; the general explanation of these uni- formities as a psychological fact, is in the principle of habit. The habits reflect uniformities of conditions, objective and subjective. This is not to deny that some uniformities arise in individual variations. Many customs and other uniformities bear no necessary relation to vital needs in a given group at a given time. Unifornoi- ties that once were serviceable in definite surroundings may persist in the group after conditions have so altered that they are no longer serviceable; thus they may become neutral, or positively disserviceable. We cannot therefore assert the utility of every uniformity. In the long run, doubtless, most uniformities are or were at one time serviceable. If the life-customs of a group are, in bulk, detrimental in outcome, such a group will tend to vanish unless its customs are changed. Moreover, some uniformities that never possessed direct utility, or at least no longer do so, may nevertheless possess some measure of value for the group in an indirect way. The important aspect of many things found in societies is not so much what they are as what the group thinks about them. Practices and demands for uniformity that to other The Problem of Control 215 Where unity is secured in this way, individual devia- tions will be suppressed or discouraged, by the logic of circumstances if not by deliberate effort. In so far as this obtains, alterations in the structure of a society will be excessively slow, unless such alterations are produced by relatively external occurrences, whether gradual or sudden. But where uniformities are not so rigid and so wide-spread as to be co-terminous with the whole, society has the opportunity, other things being equal, of becoming dynamic. It is not the case that in the dynamic society there are fewer group habits, fewer uniformities, than in a static society. On the contrary there are more. In the dynamic condi- tion there tends to be the multiplication of sub-groups within the whole. These sub-groups are in part caused by the more common types of individual devia- tions; in part they furnish the opportunity for the functioning of the latter. Each sub-group represents a set of uniformities practically restricted to the sub- group in addition to uniformities that are co-terminous with the whole. Just because individuality has more opportunity for expression and differences in condi- tions more opportunity for operation, systems of uniformities appear within a large system. The mul- 'cyes are mere superstitions and perhaps injurious, may yet be indirectly of value because the value attached to them assures cohesion within the group, defines common interests, and effects some subordination of the individual unit to the authority of the group. Their basis in fact becomes important and decisive only when reflection upon them develops. As long as testing and verifications have no place, the objective validity and meaning of some uniformities of belief and action is a minor matter. 216 The Basis Of Social Theory tiplicity of uniformities prevents a given set from usurping the system of the total group. The uniform- ities criss-cross one another. They compete — and the individual is in so far forth not dominated by them. He becomes a center in which they present their claims. Their incompatibilities are recognized and choice and critical evaluation are stimulated. Oppor- tunity for the reorganization of uniformities by the selective operation of individual constitution is afforded. There results a greater diversification of thought and feeling, the splitting up of larger groups into smaller ones embodying varying interests and more specialized functions. This situation is, of course, both cause and effect in a dynamic society. Once a society has assumed a somewhat dynamic character, the more dynamic it tends to become. And what is true of the society as a whole will be true of a particular portion of it. Change in one part may occur at a rate that does not hold for another, with consequent strain and conflict. Finally, as society becomes more dynamic, its social inheritance of ideas, judgments, preferences, tastes, convictions, and the like becomes more varied. It may lose its simplicity and unity, but gain in the range and variety of its contents. And this, in turn, makes the transmission of this inheritance more difficult. The continuity of a dynamic society is peculiarly dependent upon the transmission of the fund of social habits, knowledge and practical arts, and the elements of the intel- lectual, religious, moral and aesthetic traditions. The The Problem of Control 217 total fund becomes too vast to be re-discovered de novo by each generation. In one sense there is continual re-discovery, of course: the social inheritance is itself a construction and it is reconstructed by each genera- tion. This happens perforce: but with enlightenment the reconstruction becomes a problem for thought and imagination, a task of selection and rejection. The nature of this inheritance and the importance of its transmission are sufficient to indicate the fundamental place of the means of recordation and communication in the process. It has been said that society is more a matter of the dead than of the living. One might follow out the thought by adding that the transmis- sion of the social inheritance is the communication of the dead with the living. And here we have the irreducible and indispensable element of uniformity in the unity of society in time. Uniformity and Conformity Despite the importance of uniformity as a factor in social life, a little consideration will show that uniformity is rather an abstracted aspect of the facts rather than the fact as a whole. Even in a static society the patterns of thought and action are not followed without deviation. Social fact clearly can not be confined to the element of uniformity. It is conformity^ rather than uniformity that char- acterizes human activity in group life; and this be- *The tenn, and the contrast, are due to Professor John Dewey. 218 The Basis of Social Theory comes increasingly clear as we pass from static to dynamic conditions. Group life means some degree of cohesion, likemindedness, a common fund of tradi- tion, an irreducible minimum of agreement in the principal directions of thought and action. This is the necessary substratum for successful joint participa- tion in the same business of living in one and the same world of things and affairs. Wherever there is group life, this obtains; and wherever this obtains, uniformity will describe a certain aspect of the situation. But where sameness is overwhelming, individuality must be at a minimum, and the group life be static. That which persistently demands this measure of sameness is sameness in the conditions of life, in nature and in human nature. This measure of sameness, however, never exists in point of fact independentiy of dis- similarities and differences. For the units in the group are by nature different and by their variations in the ways in which they intersect the current of things, dissimilarities are produced. Dissimilarity, the lack of uniformity, is an equally salient aspect. And this is the background of the statement that conformity rather than uniformity characterizes group life. The term 'conformity' conveys some indication of the interplay of uniformity and variation in the social system. This conformity implies tiiat a given activity gains some of its direction, its character and its quality, from its relation to the activities of others or to other activities. This inter-adjustment reveals uniformity in the midst of organized variety. Men The Problem of Control 219 doing the same thing — this is not society. But men doing different things, so that there is continual modification of one by another, a repercussion of one act upon another; this is at least more nearly descriptive of society. We return here, then, to our previous description of the social fact as arising in the co-implication of activities.^ Problems Involving Individuals and Societies In the light of preceding discussion, it is clear that there is no problem, for social inquiry, as to why social life involves unity and continuity or as to why uniformities and dissimilarities should be found in society. Any statement as to what the term 'group life' means involves these ideas. The question that really arises for the student of society concerns the relation of the participants in a group life to its unity and continuity as these are concretely manifested and embodied within a given group and in given condi- tions. Unities and continuities are for the growing individual simply there to be discovered and reckoned with. They may take specifically an immense variety •The playing of a game, conducting a business, or, on a large , scale, the specialization in labor and its products that comes very early in the history of society, may be taken as illustrations. It is not sameness of action and thought, but inter-related differ- ences, that are involved. This is true, even in connection with discord, conflict, and the like. For the nature and meaning of the discord or conflict is definable only by reference to the interplay of activities. A duel of antagonistic forces means interlocked ac- tivities — else there is no focus in the situation. 220 The Basis of Social Theory of forms, such as social habits, customs, language, an industrial system, a governmental system, institu- tions, such as the form of marriage and the family, widespread similarities of feeling, thought, apprecia- tion, sentiments, loyalties, etc., etc. This system of things, in which multitudes of varying individuals participate, and which links them in one organization, may come to be discriminated and discerned by its participants. In thought and feeling it may come to be set over against that which in contradistinction is defined as the self with its ^private' interests and intimate purposes. This discrimination is the work of reflection. We may remind the reader that, in a previous chapter, the contention was advanced that there does not exist a problem to be designated as *Hhe problem of the relation of the individual to society." There are countless problems that come to be because there are such things as societies and because where there are societies there are individuals. In the lowest con- ceivable form of human group life, there are no such problems at all. There would apply, of course, the analytical distinction between the members and the group. But the distinction between the fact of indi- viduality and the fact of society, in the sense in which these terms are involved in the formulation of social problems, can in the nature of the case arise only when a series of discriminations have been achieved. This leads to the separation by contrast of two realms: a personal, and an objective system called society. The Problem of Control 221 Many recognitions are involved: recognitions of rights and duties, privileges and opportunities, sympathies and antagonisms, dependencies and in-dependencies. Interests are distinguished, and the system perceived in its bearing upon them, as hindering or favoring them. The developing individual, with a fund of im- pulse proliferating into many special forms, meets a system of activities and of things related to actual and possible activities. He comes to notice that these constitute conditions of his own activities, whether he will or no. At one moment an impulse is evoked, sup- ported, favored; at another moment, impulse is hin- dered, diverted, nullified. Experience reveals the agency of others and the sharing of situations with them as necessary to the fulfillment of needs and de- sires, and the attainment of purposes. But it also brings with it frustration and defeat, and the sense of restrictions placed upon effort and flexibility of action, upon desires and satisfactions, by the agency of others. This contact of expanding individuality with the social system is the source of many problems just be- cause the system exists there as a set of conditions for action. Professor Dewey has said that "We often , fancy that institutions, social customs, collective habit, have been formed by the consolidation of individual habits. In the main this supposition is false to fact. To a considerable extent customs . . . exist because individuals face the same situations and react in sim- ilar fashion. But to a larger extent customs persist 222 The Basis of Social Theory because individuals form their personal habits under conditions set by prior customs. . . . The activities of the group are already there, and some assimilation of his own acts to their pattern is a pre-requisite of a share therein, and hence of having any part in what is going on. . . . To talk of the priority of ^society' to the individual is to indulge in nonsensical meta- physics. But to say that some pre-existent associa- tion of human beings is prior to every particular human being ... is to mention a commonplace. These as- sociations are definite modes of interactions of persons with one another; that is to say they form customs, institutions. . . . The problem, however, of how these established and more or less deeply grooved systems of interaction which we call social groups .... mod- ify the activities of individuals who perforce are caught up within them, and how the activities of com- ponent individuals remake and redirect previously es- tablished customs is a deeply significant one."* This existing system into which an individual is born, which he discovers as he discovers the proper- ties of things, adapts this growing individual at every moment to itself or to some aspect or portion of itself. Such pressures are un-interrupted. At the same time, this growing individual continually exerts pressure to adapt the system to the features of his individuality. In dynamic societies, especially, this situation is cognized, many aspects receive reflective statement, and aspiration confronts the established^ ^ Human Nature and Conduct, N. Y., 1922, pp. 58-60. The Problem of Control 223 while the survey of the system becomes an enterprise for criticism.' The meaning for action of this situa- tion concerns the regulation and control of behavior. What we have considered as social unity and continu- ity, or more specifically, as the system into which an individual is born, is the source of problems concern- ing individuals and societies. Every feature of the system implies some demand laid upon the behavior of each agent. The process of inter-adjustment im- plies that behavior takes account of the system as conditioning action. This is what is meant by such expressions as the 'socialization of the self' or of the mind. Such expressions at bottom refer to the con- trolled character of an agent's conduct springing from the conditioning influences of the total system of activities constituting group life. 8 Because of this felt need of adjustment, and the criticism of the established, the contrast becomes stated in terms of an opposition between habit as the conservative principle and intel- ligence as the progressive. Now certain uniformities of habit may furnish a support to group life upon which experience may be enlarged. They may mean the solutions of problems or practical arts. New energies may be released. But habits may linger after their utility has disappeared and so a conflict of established habit and the demand for re-organization appears. It is this struggle of previous uniformity with new demands that leads to the notion that habit is the conservative principle and thought the progres- sive; social change is interpreted as a continuous battle between habit and intelligence. Enough has been said to point to the basis in fact of this view. But it is a mistake to assume that the particular conflicts of habit and inquiry mean that habit is necessarily a conservative principle and inquiry a progressive one. Intelligence may function in the interests of maintaining the status quo. Habits may mean excellence in accomplishment, leverage for improvement. "In fact only in a society dominated m 224 The Basis of Social Theory Regulation and Control of Conduct A working distinction may profitably be introduced between conduct in so far as it is regulated and con- duct in so far as it is controlled. The distinction, al- though not to be taken absolutely, does mark a dif- ference of quality in the grounds determining the spe- cific character of types of conduct. Behavior may be regarded as regulated in so far as it is directed, guided, and governed by conditions essentially beyond hu- man competence to modify in any radical way. Neg- atively regarded, these are conditions that set limits to what is possible for human action. We may take advantage of them in some situations, but only by following their implications. With respect to them behavior is at bottom passive. Among such factors by modes of belief and admiration fixed by past custom is habit any more conservative than it is progressive. It all depends on its quality. Habit is an ability, an art. . . . But whether an ability is limited to the repetition of past acts adopted (sic) to past condi- tions or is available for new emergencies depends wholly upon what kind of habit exists. . . . Consider what happens to thought when habit is merely power to repeat acts without thought. Where does thought exist and operate when it is excluded from habitual activities? Is not such thought of necessity shut out from effective power, from ability to control objects and command events? To laud habit as conservative while praising thought as the main spring of progress is to take the surest course to making thought abstruse and irrelevant and progress a matter of accident and catastrophe. . . . Thought which does not exist within ordimry habits of action lacks means of execution." (Dewey, Human Nature and Conduct, pp. 66-7). The real opposition is "not between reason and habit but between routine, unintelligent habit, and inteUigent habit or art" {Ibid,, p. 77). The Problem of Control 225 may be mentioned the natural structure and proper- ties of things. A certain fixity and angularity charac- terize things in their independent character. How- ever variable the qualities of things may be, these qualities and properties can be discovered but not al- tered. The sciences of nature furnish us with some knowledge of these permanent traits of things. By knowing the properties of things we may anticipate consequences, or we may change the arrangement of thmgs. But their independent character places in- superable restrictions upon our action. The flexibil- ity of organic structure and function is precisely the necessary complement of the inflexibility of things. This explains the meaning of adjustment to environ- ment. A second regulating principle is discoverable m the constitution of our animal bodies. Bodily structure regulates behavior by delimiting the char- acter and range of action. With this must be included the fundamental properties of nerve tissue. We can- not, for example, escape the tendency to form habits. Inhibition, facilitation, conduction, habit-formation, the fact that some things and states are agreeable, others disagreeable and painful, the limitations im- posed by the nature of organs of sense and organs of action— these are conditions of behavior that may be reckoned with but cannot be escaped. It is part of the task of our capacities, of intelligence, to take ac- count of them and to evaluate them in the light of the sum-total of the conditions of action and the purposes to which energies are devoted. And finally, it should i 226 The Basis of Social Theory be recognized that action is regulated by organic needs. However controllable within limits, they are there as obdurate facts, not to be conjured with. Hunger and thirst must be reckoned with just as the properties of water or fire must be reckoned with. In general the regulation of action is the expression of the in- fluence of the natural environment and natural organic constitution. And the latter should be understood to include all that is pre-determined by inherited nature in so far as it is pre-determined. The Control of Conduct In the facts of inherited structure, organic needs, and environment we perceive, then, the basis of regu- lation. From one point of view their operation is neg- ative: they define limiting conditions. They demar- cate the region within which alone spontaneity and constructive activity are possible. Behavior in so far as it is conditioned in these ways is passive. Perhaps every instance of behavior in some slight degree shows another aspect. At any rate many activities deserve to be regarded as controlled rather than as regulated. By controlled action reference is made to that aspect of conduct which reveals the spontaneity and construc- tiveness of human nature and social life. Action is always in some degree coordinated and integrated. The higher levels of action spring from the capacity of the organism for inner organization and for the possible rule of intelligence and insight over the im- The Problem of Control 227 mediate propulsions of tendencies arising within the primary conditions enumerated before. There was previously emphasized the transition from action de- termined by the properties of the stimulus to conduct determined by the inner conditions of the agent. This guidance by the cumulative results of experience, meaning, foresight of consequences, and the amplifica- tion of situations by imagination, is the control of conduct in the proper sense of the term. It is the expression of the instrumental function of capacities, the malleability of instinctive tendencies, and the or- ganization of mind or character, in short, of per- sonality. This discussion does not imply, of course, that there are two types of behavior, one of regulation and an- other of control. As action comes to be controlled it does not cease to be regulated. Rather it means that whatever freedom exists within the limits of regula- tion is taken advantage of. Knowledge of things does not enable us to do away with the facts "that the prop- erty of rain is to wet and fire to burn; that good pas- ture makes fat sheep, and that a great cause of the night is lack of the sun." Such knowledge, how- ever, makes manipulation, counter-balancing, possible. Thus we pass from one extreme, where behavior is practically regulated in a machine-like way, through various stages to another extreme, where control de- pends upon the exploitation of the inner resources of the organism. It is noteworthy that this transition is related in I: 228 The Basis of Social Theory several ways to the fact that each individual is bora into a particular social system. In the first place, this system in so far as it transmits knowledge and prac- tical arts, stimulates imagination and intelligence, and provides opportunities for growth, in so far forth pro- vides the conditions within which the exploitation of latent inner resources may be achieved and the control of conduct attained. But on the other hand, this system at the same time demands, as the price of shar^ ing in the group life with all that this means, precisely this transition from behavior as primarily regulated to conduct as controlled. It is unnecessary to insist that, since the social system is never perfectly self- consistent, harmonized, or un-ambiguous in its de- mands, these deficiencies are reflected in the develop- ment of mind and character and hence in the control of conduct. The Socialization oj Instinctive Tendencies In the achievement of controlled conduct, the in- stinctive tendencies play a leading role. The state- ment sometimes made that men are not fit for civili- zation has its origin, as has been suggested above, in recognition of this fact. Instinctive tendencies, we have said, must be fitted to the particular conditions of life represented by this or that society and this or that environment. This adaptation is what is meant by the socialization of instinct. Rules, principles, purposes, ideals, must be integrated with instinctive The Problem of Control 229 tendencies in order that the former may be efficient in concrete conditions and the latter become social forces. The mere fact that one cognizes a moral principle or perceives intellectually some standard of action does not give assurance that they will be in- fluential instruments of control in one's career. They must have instinctive energies enlisted in their cause. The organizations whose nuclei are such standards of evaluation mark the attainment of this impetus on the part of principle and idea and of this moralization and socialization on the part of instinct. The result is the control of conduct at its highest level.® •McDougall has enumerated four stages in the development of conduct, as follows: "(1) The stage of instinctive behaviour modified only by the influence of the pains and pleasures that are incidentally experienced in the course of instinctive activities; (2) the stage in which the operation of the instinctive impulses is modified by the influence of rewards and punishments admin- istered more or less systematically by the social environment; (3) the stage in which conduct is controlled in the main by the anticipation of social praise and blame; (4) the highest stage, in which conduct is regulated by an ideal of conduct that enables a man to act in the way that seems to him right regard- less of the praise and blame of his immediate social environment." (Op. cit., p. 186). Thus in the development of the self, conduct tends to pass from a stage in which it is dominated by immediate consequences to a stage in which not merely the anticipation of these consequences controls but these consequences and factors are evaluated and may even be over-ridden. In connection with the above discussion, McDougalPs utilization of Shand's theory of the sentiments might profitably be studied Although McDougall seems to have the organization of the emotions rather than instincts in mind, according to his own account of emotion the organization of the latter would seem to imply the organization of instincts around objects, ideas, and pnnciples of conduct. If this be a fair statement, McDougall's adaptation of the theory gives an explanation of how through m I 1 '. 230 The Basis of Social Theory Primary Conditions of Socialization The accomplishment of this development in inner organization and this measure of harmonization of conduct with the social system depends upon condi- tions, the first of which is the fact of a prolonged period of infancy. The significance of this has been expressed as follows: Noting that with reference to the physical world, the child is helpless, Dewey writes: "The thorough-going character of this helplessness suggests . . . some compensating power. The rela- tive ability of the young of brute animals to adapt themselves fairly well to physical conditions from an early period suggests the fact that their life is not intimately bound up with the life of those about them. They are compelled, so to speak, to have physical gifts because they are lacking in social gifts. Human infants ... can get along with physical incapacity just because of their social capacity. We sometimes talk and think as if they simply happened to be physically in a social environment; as if social forces exclusively existed in the adults who take care of them, they being passive recipients. ... But observa- social pressure the organization and socialization of instinct is achieved. For the objects, ideas, principles and systems of ideas, which constitute the nuclei of sentiments, are the product of the interaction of the individual, a differential selective factor, and the sum-total of forces constituting the P^ticular social environment (as the latter term has been de^n^^ . ^^^I^f^. McDougall's doctrine thus appears to provide the schema by whicn the problem might be worked out in detail. The Problem of Control 231 tion shows that children are gifted with an equip- ment of the first order for social intercourse. Few grown-up persons retain all of the flexible and sensi- tive ability of children to vibrate sympathetically with the attitudes and doings of those about them. . . . The specific adaptability of an immature creature for growth constitutes his plasticity. ... It is essentially the ability to learn from experience; the power to retain from one experience something which is of avail in coping with the difficulties of a later situation." ^ Along with this should be considered the fact of varia- tion in endowment from individual to individual. It is this that makes the problem of organization of in- herited equipment always an individual problem. Ir- regularity in the appearance and maturation of instinc- tive tendencies, especially, is an element of importance in the process. The period of infancy, as the fact of immaturity and slow maturation, may be considered as prolonged by the addition of social infancy. This is somewhat fanciful, but it points to the continual lengthening of the period during which dependence upon others in one form or another obtains. This lengthening is in part an inevitable result of increasing complexity in the conditions of life and a connected requirement for longer time in getting fitted to the system. In part, however, this lengthening is deliberate. To keep children from labor in order to keep them in school, for example, is something more than a reflection of ''Democracy and Education, ch. IV, pp. 50-53. 232 The Basis of Social Theory existing conditions. It also expresses current ideals of social welfare. It is a part of the belief that Prog- ress is possible. Progress in part, it is believed, rests upon the wise utilization of infancy, and its artificial prolongation becomes necessary as social nexi become more intricate, expertness reaches higher levels, and knowledge accumulates. Environment This emphasis upon immaturity and its prolonga- tion leads to emphasis upon the fact that the process of interaction between developing individual and so- cial system, with its consequences in thought and ac- tion, occurs through the intermediation of physical things. There is no direct contact of mind with mind. Transmission of ideas and feelings is a process of com- munication, and a physical medium must be used. This is a commonplace. To slur over it, as often hap- pens, is nevertheless a neglect of hard facts. The con- sequence is that the primary means of effecting adjust- ment of an individual and a social system involves the control of physical things. Education, in the broad and inclusive sense of the term, as a process of using physical means to effect the organization of thought, feeling, and action, is a construction or reconstruction of the environment. Even in the narrower sense of education, not as co-terminous with learning in and by experience, but as equivalent to schooling, it implies the organization of physical means so as to transmit a The Problem of Control 233 selected, abbreviated, and simplified substitute expe- rience, or substitute for experience. So it is not only the elementary adjustments to things, such as learn- ing to walk, that implies a physical medium, but the whole process of experience, in so far as educative, im- plies such a medium and its social control. The whole content of the social tradition is transmitted only because a material environment has been turned to social purposes. It follows from this that the whole of learning is socially conditioned. In an earlier discussion empha- sis was placed upon the fact that the environment as it confronts the growing individual is a socialized product. It is a worked-over, humanized system of things. The activities of men have taken advantage of nature's properties to organize things in support of human enterprises. Desires, beliefs, ideas, practical arts, and purposes become embodied in things: or, from a different standpoint, things are the materializa- tions of these psychological facts. If the social en- vironment be taken as the activities of others, it must be recognized that the extension of their activities into the organization of things constitutes a part of it. The reorganization of matter by human activity is the in- corporation of that activity. Things worked over represent a prolongation of prior action. Learning is consequently effected not only by the actions of those about us, but by effects of such action embodied in things. The experience of a thing may lead to the acquisition of ideas, usages, meanings and purposes / 234 The Basis of Social Theory without direct acquaintance with the activities respon- sible for this humanization of nature. To have con- duct conditioned by the conduct and speech of others, or by contact with things, such as books, tools, instru- ments, and things owing their shape, properties, and functions to human manipulation, are at bottom one and the same. It is, in the final analysis, the activities of others that form the pressures and determine the contacts involved in the development of native equip- ment to form a mind and self.® 1 ii I I The Individual as a Selective Factor The fact that every human being, and this means a unique being, is born into a particular social system and that this system necessarily conditions his career, is the root, it was asserted, of countless problems in which individuals and social systems were involved. Since the system is there as a brute fact, the career of the individual must at every turn bring about a prob- lem of adjustment to it. This means, we have seen, in its lower levels the regulation of action, and in its higher levels the control of his conduct by forces resi- dent in or arising out of the social system and the cul- tural tradition. The process of establishing this ad- justment and insuring such inner organization that control is possible is in turn, however, conditioned by the individual. The individual at every stage of de- velopment conditions, as a differential selective factor, *C/. Dewey, Democracy and Education, pp. 26, 47. ft The Problem of Control 235 the operation of the social system and cultural tradi- Uon. The fact that there are individuals (and this applies to original nature and to the infant, the child and the adult) is as brute a fact as any other. And in consequence the system and the tradition must be adjusted to the individual as weU as the individual to them. We must not conserve in this connection the fallacy of viewmg life dynamically while viewing the envi- ronment statically. If the system of group activities and their fixation in things exert pressure upon the individual, it is equally true that every individual in some measure exerts pressure upon the group-system. Every trait, interest, preference, and idiosyncracy seeks to manipulate the social environment and to mold it into harmony with such elements of the self. If sig- nificant individuality were only the product of the hu- man mass, it would be interesting as an object of con- templation but not as a social force. Great personal- ities, however, inevitably seek the reconstruction of the social environment. Perhaps this is the reason why genius seems to us somewhat akin to madness. In mediocrity there may be little evidence of the creative- ness of the group: but in mediocrity there is little creative impulse to disturb the social system. A society that a Nietzsche would approve, a society that sought to foster the emergence of the great man, should be a society prepared to endure the resultant pressures. Now it is especially in a dynamic society, and in particular when such a society has become conscious ^1 V I ■^t . i i i 236 The Basis of Social Theory of 'progress' as defining its aims, that the significance of individuality is recognized and problems arismg from the existence of individuals and groups become acute Individuals vary, of course, in their importance in the process of inter-adjustment and the development of control. In so far as men, for whatever reason function primarily and mainly as bearers of the social tradition, as transmitters of what has been established, the problems will not arise. In such cases men per- petuate rather than create; they are possessed by the social tradition but they do not possess it. The com- parative lack of reconstructive functioning on the part of the many may be the result of mediocre native en- dowment or of a failure of the environment to foster latent abilities. Doubtless native talent, not to say genius, frequently finds its way despite unfavorable conditions. But to believe that this is always the case is intolerable optimism. And in any case, even if ability carves its own way, there must be a deplorable loss of energy. How much talent is lost to humamty because of the repressive action of environment is not open to esUmate: probably there is less loss than the sentimentalist and doctrinaire believe and more than comfortable optimism would admit. The isolaUon and estimate of inherited endowment, if it were pos- sible to achieve this at any early date in life, would make the scientific organization of opportunity for each individual possible. But even with this there would emerge a correlated danger, for the uUlizaUon of such estimates of latent abilities would require such The Problem of Control 237 wisdom in the control of environment that only the philosopher-kings of a Platonic Utopia possess. The Variant Individual It is clear that the problems of individuality are acute where this individuality means wide deviation from the average and this deviation is manifested in energetic action. The individual whose variation is so significant for the social process that he stands out distinctively as variant— it is this individual that ren- ders social adjustment the source of acute problems. Such a statement is not a denial of the value of indi- viduality in any measure. It simply emphasizes the role of those whose deviation from the average is so wide that it is equivalent to the existence of a radiant center of novel influence. Such persons have of course been absorbed in the social tradition. But this has been something more than mere passive absorption. The person of capacity, gift, talent, or genius carries the differentiating and selective functioning of indivi- duality to a critical point. The assimilation of tiie so- cial tradition involves its reorganization in terms of this variant individuality. The variant individual be- comes conscious of the tradition, and conscious of his individuality in the face of it. The traditional, the accepted, and established become in consequence an object of skepticism and inquiry, and therefore of re- constructive activity. The mystery tiiat surrounds the achievements of genius expresses the extent to :i^ ill' H* 238 The Basis of Social Theory which such native capacity uses for the construction of new ideas materials which, in the hands of the less gifted, seem to bear no such promise of new fruits. This process of assimilation, mastery, selection, and reconstruction issuing in a product that surpasses the apparent possibilities of the materials is what is recog- nized as originality. The situation in which the individual becomes con- scious of the traditional, distinguishes most fully the social system and his own individuality, and so achieves a critical attitude towards the system, is easily defined in its general character. It is conflict, dis-equilibrium, disorganization that mark the change from mere social product and passive participator to reconstructive effort. In a dynamic society, where change, and therefore continual disruption of the fixed, is the rule, variant individuality finds greater stimulus and in turn becomes a force that is first disorganizing even if ultimately constructive. The Control of the Variant Individual The problems of control may accordingly be stated in the form of the control of the variant individual. In political science the problem is apt to be known as the problem of liberty and freedom, and in social morals, of tolerance. The variant individual must al- ways find himself in a particular group, witii its spe- cific form of organization and institutions. The brute fact of the situation is that he must take account of The Problem of Control 239 the group-system as the group must reckon with him. A certain minimum of coherence and therefore of inter- adjustment is pre-requisite to the very existence of group life and therefore of whatever opportunity and activity the variant individual may share. The group cannot but insist upon some measure of control. Vast evolutionary processes are hidden behind this insistence. And the individual's variation, whatever of worth his reaction implies, can be generalized, materialized, and given power only through the group. If, on the other hand, the individual be not permitted to vary, there can be no production of novelty, and no change that is construction, that is 'Progress' as con- trasted with natural catastrophes or the slow processes of evolution with which the biologist is concerned. The individual's variations and the concrete group- conditions are never wholly commensurable, and their divergence may be immense. The individual's varia- tions may be either a menace or a benefit: they may be so in fact, and as judged in the light of prolonged consequences and intelligent criticism; or they may be a threat or a promise, not in fact nor for humanity, but in contemporary imagination and opinion. Varia- tions may be whimsicalities, extravagances, eccen- tricities, on the one hand; or discoveries, inventions, the deepening of insight, a revolutionary advance in knowledge on the other. To state exhaustively pos- sible variations would be an attempt to state the limits of human possibilities. For these reasons— because of this same inexhaustible store of possible variation— iiii' f i, 240 The Basis of Social Theory the problem of control, of freedom and tolerance, is critical in a society that has become dynamic. The dynamic society faces this dilemma: If the control of the group over the individual, however such control is accomplished, be repressive, m so far dis- covery, invenUon, initiative, the exercise of construe- tive imagination, and achievement in every field are discouraged; and this means the surrender of the faith in Progress. On the other hand, in so far as no control is exerted over the variant individual, sponta- neity is encouraged; but variation may bear frmts threatening disaster, disintegration, the dissolution of civilization. The freedom that permits desirable variations permits undesirable variations: and once more the faith in Progress is seriously impaired. Doubtless the concrete situation in a society is vastly more complex than such a dilemma suggests. Never- theless, the facts continually suggest such abstract formulation. Somewhere between an extreme of des- potic control carried into detail and the opposite ex- treme where there is no control and well-nigh no so- ciety must lie the requisite mean. But the problem is: where? Limitations must exist-but how are they to be fixed? r * io« It is obvious that, if once a final and perfect plan for the organization of life, a plan sufficiently concrete in detail, could be devised, it would be a compara- tively simple matter to scrutinize every variation m the light of the plan and to govern action accordmgly. But this very statement appears absurd. Many sages The Problem of Control 241 have delineated perfect societies. The portrayers of Utopias we could ill afford to lose. Utopian societies, because they exist only for imagination, stimulate con- trasts with the actual and provide new perspectives. Taken dynamically they indicate possibilities of ideal achievement. The complete realization of the poten- tialities of life, the maximum enrichment of life, the prosperity of experience— there are many such glam- orous phrases valuable as stimulation but of little moment in the mastery of the actual. Social prob- lems are always concrete— they concern such and such a system of affairs, with such and such individ- uals. Utopian considerations, wisely contemplated, possess a genuine function as enlarging imagination and widening horizons. But when the visions of the sage become the dreams of the doctrinaire and fanatic, the divorcing of the actual and the ideal insures the failure properly to utilize the one and to attain the other. The ineluctable fact is that human life means group life, and that group life is both a life of groups and of individuals. The subordination of the individual to the group is not, in general, a real problem. It is a part of the definition of human life, an extension of biological, physiological and psychological laws. A complementary proposition, of course, might be ad- vanced: it is equally true that group life must inev- itably recognize the fact of individuality. These statements simply repeat what was asserted before concerning the problems involving the distinction be- '.I 242 The Basis of Social Theory tween the group and the individual. The problem of social control over individuals can be intelligible only when it is specific. There can be problems only as to what the subordination of the individual shall mean in given circumstances and for given individuals— and as to what the subordination of the group to the in- dividual shall mean for specific groups and specific individuals. In a similar sense freedom does not signalize a general problem. Freedom in an abstract sense at least is implied in the fact that there are in- dividuals wherever there are groups. There can be problems only in connection with this or that phe- nomenon of individuality. It must be admitted that statements such as these offer no solutions for social problems. They seek merely to turn attention upon the problems in their concreteness rather than in their abstract generalized form. On the principle that nothing is so bad but that good may come of it, apologetics for any and every form of group control over individual tendencies may be justified. Past acts of intolerance may be justi- fied by asserUng their value as an example for the future, as a stimulus to heroic endurance or as a warn- ing to folly. To simple souls, convinced that progress is real and even inevitable, that everything is for the best not merely in the best possible but in a good world, the intricacy of social phenomena provides means for such consolations. It is, at least, an interesting tribute to the fecundity and resilience of the human mind. On the other hand, over-ardent and visionary souls The Problem of Control 243 perceive in every agency of control an expression of revolting tyranny. It is probably unlikely, taking everything into consideration, that the quality of tol- erance will ever be excessive. And it is probable that m many cases the dangers to freedom are more ap- parent than real: they are often the reflex expression of timidity and uncritical estimates of the past. As society develops a tradition sufficienUy varied and rich to sUmulate latent powers and to provide numerous vistas of unexplored regions, gifts to insight and crea- tive thought are all the more liable to produce ideas that, as we say, are in advance of their age. Even if savagery possesses as many highly endowed individ- uals as may be generated when a splendid culture has been attained, the savage condition cannot nourish nascent genius: its "crust of custom" imprisons mind and limits vision. Individuals that were in advance of their age, as judged by posterity, are perhaps symp- tomatic of a lack of rational synthesis in the mentality of their age. Many suffer persecution— and a later age erects statues in their honor. Their tragedies be- come luminous in that pathos of distance of which Nietzsche speaks. And this is not the least of their achievements. But unhappily history provides no simple criteria by which the variant indivi(iual who will be acclaimed by posterity can be discerned in the turmoil of a present. For there is another type of social tragedy— or tragi-comedy— a queer inverse of the former. Failure, defeat, derision, and persecution are sometimes taken as evidence for the truth and -'I m 244 The Basis of Social Theory value of that which a new prophet proclaims. The unacceptability of a doctrine may be regarded as the expression of the blindness of an age-and a confirnu- tion of the prophet's belief in his mission. This diQi- culty has been well expressed in the remark that, al- though St. John cried out in the wilderness, the fact that one cries in the wilderness does not constitute a proof that one is St. John.« And there are, after a^l, some variant individuals that later ages have properly neglected to honor. The Crucial Importance of Intelligence It is well to repeat, however, that it is unlikely that the quality of tolerance will be cultivated to excess. The discussion so far suggests that there is no ready- made solution at hand by means of which perfect ra- tionality of control over the individual by the group can be secured. And this is equally true of the cor- relative proposition— no simple measure of the in- dividual's right to bend the group to his will is at band Simple formulas are apt to be remote from the actualities of concrete situations and the mul- tiplicity of relations linking individuals with one an- other and with groups. We lack the simple test whereby the unprogressive and the genuinely pro- gressive can be distinguished promptly and fairly. The student of society can think of society only as a vast process of experimentation. He will seek wa>s tThe remark is due to Professor Albert Ufevre. The Problem of Control 245 and means to construct a social system wherein the subordination of individuality to the existent group system will be in fact and in intent a moment in the cu tivation of individuality. The student of society ^ T 'V' T'""^ ""^^'^ °^ '^^^J^' >° the many "pro- posed roads to freedom" (to adopt Russell's title), not a demonstration of the insolubility of the problem of rational progress but an indication of the need for a science of society based upon an adequate account of human nature. In the meantime he can point to those qualities of mmd and character which bid fair to be least obstructive to the process of experimentation and wil have the least tendency to prejudice the estimate o ol° -T. ^^"' ^' '"^^ '"^'^t "P«° the value of open-mmdedness, sobriety of judgment, the tem- pering of passion by critical sense, and the habit of frank criticism of the grounds of dislike for the new. H torical information and the wisdom that historical nsight may furmsh; minds supplied with well-authen- ticated mformation and made supple by sympathy; tte cultivation of habits of reliance upon tLghi and us pronouncements; the recognition of the au- thority of mtelhgence-such qualities as these he may single out The Platonic vision of human life flour! ishmg under the control of wisdom is ever relevant because ,t is inescapable wherever life presumes to assert the right to determine its own destiny _ Such statements do involve a faith, a faith, namely in the competency of mind. The granting of free- dom m any measure to individuals is to express this 246 The Basis of Social Theory faith in mind. If democracy as a principle involves any faith at all, it is this and no other. It is the con- viction which holds that, in the long run, the orderly processes of intelligence may be viewed with confidence and trust. It is the belief in the crucial importance of inteUigence throughout the sphere of human activ- ity It may be admitted that thought produces its monsters, and that it may be misused in the interests of bigotry and passion. But those who possess this faith in intelligence make this concession all the more readily because it indicates that dogmatism even m this faith is dangerous. It means that even the passion for intelligence must needs be tempered by intelligence. There is of course a paradox of a specious sort m the faith in mind: for minds have a social history and they become impregnated with the evils, the superstitions, and the errors imbedded in their origin; and yet m such a force we are told to trust. The reply to this, however, is that after all there is nothing else to trust The cultural tradition, and accordingly mmd itselt are continually subjected to processes of criticism and revision by mind. And finally, in a dynamic society, where progress defines a faith, this trust in mmd is necessarily its unifying principle. It must, however, be acknowledged that once the reliance on mind has been declared, the problem of the limits of group control over the individual and the submission of individual sanctions of conduct to the sanctions of the group, becomes all the more vexatious In one sense, limits cannot be placed. For to grant The Problem of Control 247 freedom to mind and to be committed to faith in mind means to grant this freedom throughout. If thought is to be authoritative, then it can acknowledge no au- thority save its own; and every other authority must be one that derives from the authority of mind. But in another sense limits are and in existing circum- stances must be placed. In practice and in concrete conditions, freedom and tolerance carry some abridg- ment of the opportunities for translating thought into action. And this, it appears, is simply another ex- pression of the fact that the unity and continuity of group life is an indispensable condition for the very existence of man. Conclusion The reader, one may fear, will be impatient with such conclusions— or lack of conclusions. To bring this volume to an end with a conclusion more final than an appeal to mind and renewed emphasis upon the open-minded and experimental attitude would be to commit the heresy of finality. From what has been said in the foregoing pages this appeal assuredly does not mean the facile and immodest readiness to try any- thing and everything once. And to recur once again to the theme of the Introduction, this expression of faith in mind means an assertion of both the need for, and the possibility of, a system of social sciences as trustworthy in principle as the sciences of nature. This concluding attitude involves no repudiation of I I 248 The Basis of Social Theory the established as such, but rather the utilization of the established in the service of growing ends and aims. It implies that institutions and group usages are to be recognized as instruments among which the individual should be free to choose with such intelligence as he may command. In fine, it commends neither a fanati- cal repudiation of existing social systems nor a sweep- ing validation for the subordination of the individual thereto, but rather insists upon the cultivation of in- telligence for the sake of attaining a mastery of the social environment commensurate with our mastery of the physical environment. Let us therefore admit that, if it be true that all changes have an unending series of consequences, the effects of thinking constitute no exception. Let us furthermore admit that not all of these consequences can be anticipated. Forces are released or directed into new channels, inadvertently, and consequences appear that were no part of the thought that inaugu- rated the process. Thought thus often comes to lose control of that which in the beginning it released. Thus the advance of science means man's mastery over nature. But incidentally, where mastery is nec- essarily relative and incomplete, control within one sphere may solve problems within that sphere only to provide the occasion for the generation of unantici- pated new problems within a different sphere. Prog- ress, accordingly, does not occur uniformly. The dis- solution and dethronement of older sanctions, with- out compensatory creation of new standards, furnishes The Problem of Control 249 an opportunity for the creation of a new brood of irra- tional principles. But this brings one back again to the recognition of the crucial importance of the cul- tivation of mind. The cultivation of mind implies the cultivation of individuality. If this culUvation bring in its train unsettlement and upheaval, then one can believe only this, that further growth of mind can provide the com- pensation. The continuous play of interaction be- tween variant individuals, between these and the bulk of society, the free play of mind upon the cultural tradition, is a precondition of growth. Without these divergencies of individuality the processes of discov- ery cannot take place. The transformation of human life as a biological fact to that life as humanly social is the achievement, in the final analysis, of mind. In origin natural, the self and society possess in outcome an intrinsic ideality which defines, however vaguely, the problems of the social process. And to put faith in mind is to recognize its value as the instrument that may make of social process a movement that is also progress. THE END Action, drive and 84-88. Anti-intellectualism, 193 et seq.; moral basis of objections to, 204 et seq, Baldwin, J. M., 74-75. Behaviorism, 16 et seq.; 27-29. Breese, B. B., 122 note 1. Bury, J. B., Intro. Capacities, 113 et seq.; 112 et seq.; 194 et seq.; inherited basis of, 179 et seq. Conformity, 217-219. Control, problem of, ch. VI; and regulation of conduct, 224 et seq.; and variant individual, 238-244. Custom, 1S2-3; 161-2; 214 note 1. Dewey, John, Intro.; 128 note 10; 217 note 2; 221-222; 223 note 5; 230-1; 234 note 8. Drever, Jas., 123-125; 128 note 10; 129-132. Drive, 84-5; 194 et seq. Dualism, 6-9. EHwood, C. A., 32-4. Emotion, 127-129; 131-2. Environment, 65-8; and individ- ual differences, 70-72; altera- tion of, 140-5; 232-234. Freedom, 240 et seq. General Psychology, 16 et seq. INDEX mechanism, Gibson, Jas., 9-10. 251 Human Nature, Intro.; ch. H; fixity of, 58-62; individual differences in, 62-65; as good and bad, 161-2; variability of, 237 et seq. Individual, the, and the social, 30 et seq.; as differential fac- tor, 70-72; 234 et seq.; the variant, 237-244; problem of society and the individual, 40- 43; 208-9; 219 et seq.; indi- vidual differences, 62-5; 215; individual differences and en- vironment, 70-72. Inherited tendencies, definition of, 77 et seq.; objective as- pect of, 78-81; and habit, 81- 84; and action, 86-88, 120- 121; inventory and classifica- tion, 95 et seq.; biological account of, 135-139; as social forces, 72-76, 139-140. Instinctive tendencies, 113 et seq.; definition of, 121-125; subjective aspect, 125-127; classification of, 129-133 ; func- tion of, 133 et seq.; disparity of instinct and environment, 145 et seq., and life-customs, 152 et seq.; and social prob- lems, 153-154; deficiencies of, 165-171; and intelligence, 179- 180, 185-190, 194 et seq., 205- 207; and learning, 185-190; as good and evil, 157 et seq.; 252 Index modification of, 154-157, 171- 172; socialization of, 228 et seq. Institutions, 75-76, 150-152. Intelkctualism, 193 et seq. Intelligence, 91-92; 172 et seq.; and instinct, 179-180, 185- 190; and action, 187-193, 204 et seq., 244-249. James, Wm., 82. Judd, C. H., 122 note I. Learning, 185-190. Lefevre, Albert, 244 note 9. McDougall, Wm., 117, 122 note 1, 126-129, 156 note 16, 194 et seq., 229 note 6. Mechanism, and drive, 84-85, 194 et seq. Nurture, cf. Original Nature. Original Nature, 50-54; and nurture, 54-58; selective ac- tion of, 68-70. Physiological Psychology, 9, 27- 29. Pillsbury, W. B., 122 note 1. Plasticity, 181 et seq.; triple as- pect of, 183-185. Progress, Intro. Reaction, 86-90; and response, 92-94. Reflexes, 113 et seq. Regulation, and control of con- duct, 224 et seq. Response, and stimuli, 88-90. Santayana, George, 101. Self, 208-209, 221-223. Shand, A. F., 229 note 6. Social, the meaning of the, 24 et seq.; and the individual, 30 et seq.; the social fact, 35-40, 218-219; the social sit- uation, 24-29. Social forces, 72-75. Social Psychology, Intro.; ch. I, 245-249. Social Science, Intro.; 247-249. Socialization of instinctive ten- dencies, 228 et seq.; primary conditions of, 230-232. Society, Problem of the Individ- ual and, 40-43, 208-209, 219 et seq.; unity of, 209-210; uniformity, 210-211; static and dynamic, 211-217, 235- 237. Stimulation, and reaction, 86-91. Stimuli, artificial, 90-91. Stout, G. F., 122 note 1. Tarde, Gabriel, 13-14. Terminological plane, the single, 110-111. Thomdike, E. L., 50-51, 56, 83, 84-101, 102 note 9, 112, 159, 160, 162 note 17. Tolerance, 240 et seq. Tradition, the social, 44-45. Uniformity, 210-211; and con- formity, 217-219. Urwick, E. J., 38-39. Wallas, Graham, 110-111, 146 note 15, 174-177, 195 et seq, Warren, H., 102 note 9. Watson, J. B., 122 note 1. Woodworth, R. S., 84-85, 102 note 9, 174, 195 et seq. Zimmem, A. E., Intro, A PARTIAL LIST OF BORZOI TEXTS EARLY CIVILIZATION: AN INTRODUCTION TO ANTHROPOLOGY By Alexander A. Goldenweiser, Lecturer on An- thropoiaffy and Sociology at the New School for Social Research, New York Larfre 8vo, Cloth, XXIV 424 pages While oflFering an elementary text for the beginner in anthropology, this volume is mainly designed as a source book of information and suggestion for students of sociology who may wish to amplify their familiarity with modern social phenomena by an inquiry into the nature of early civilization and the workings of the primitive mind. SECRET HISTORY OF THE ENGLISH OCCUPATION OF EGYPT By Wilfrid Scawen Blunt Large 8vo, Cloth, 450 pages This book makes clear the varying motives — imperialistic, economic, and personal — which brought about the English occupation of Egypt. Based on personal records and con- temporary documents, its statements and conclusions have a profound interest and importance for students of history in general and of English history in particular. THE GERMAN CONSTITUTION By Rene Brunei, Professor of Constitutional Law at the University of Caen (translated from the French by Joseph Gollomb, with an Introduction by Charles A, Beard) 8vo, Cloth, XIV 339 pages This is a critical discussion of the new German Constitu- tion, the actual text of which is included, in English, as an appendix. It gives a lucid and unbiased account of the^ German Revolution, de^ribes the conflict of forces which ended in the establishment of the Republic, and con- cludes with a systematic analysis of the new plan of govern- ment. iH THE FOUNDATIONS OF SOCIAL' By James Mickel Williams. Professor of Economics and Sociology in Hobart College Large 8vo, Cloth, XVI 494 pages ^ «r ♦u^ A romoarative study of the psychological aspects of the social sdence It treats of the relation of social psychol. o^ to political science, jurisprudence, economics history :fd Sociology, analyzing the P^ ^^^^^-^l^PfrS^s " derlying the behavior of men living in social relauons. PRINCIPLES OF SOCIAL PSYCHOLOGY ^ _, By James Mickel Williams. Professor of Economics and Sociology in Hobart College Large 8vo Cloth, XII 459 pages This book represents the first attempt that has been made to explain society concretely in psychological terms It describes the essential processes that extend thruout the soc'al organization, analyzing the conflict of the different types of behavior in all human relations. THE HISTORY OF SOCIAL DEVELOPMENT Bv Franz Carl Miiller-Lyer (translated from the German by E. C. and H, W.Lake with Introduce tions by L. T. Hobhouse and E. J. UrwtckJ '^^hfs'tiu'ml Tmainly designed as a text.for beginner, in social studies. It surveys broadly the various phases of man's origin and progress, co-ordinating the «f °"2 ^Jfj^' of social evolution from the earliest times and indicating the probable trend of future developments. HUMAN NATURE IN POLITICS By Graham IVallas. Professor of Pobttcal Science m London University 8vo, Cloth, 3JO pages This i. a slightly revised edition, with a ~7 P"^ "'• J Professor Wallas' famous work first P"bl»hed.n England in 1908, and for some time out of print. It oSers » «'«" and fo;ceful analysis of the psychological processes which underlie political thought and action, laying special em- phasis upon the application of social psychology to polmcs. HOW ENGLAND IS GOVERNED By Rt, Hon. C. F. G. Masterman 8vo, Cloth, XVI 293 pages An introductory study of the working of the British Con- stitution, written from the standpoint of one who has had actual experience of the working of the political machinery of England. Students of politics and government will find in this volume a most interesting and valuable source of information. FACING OLD AGE By Abraham Epstein. Formerly Director of the Pennsylvania Commission to Investigate Old Age Pensions 8vo, Cloth, XVI 352 pages This book offers a scientific examination of the social and economic problems presented by the aged. Frankly a plea for social action, it presents in a most thoro and lucid manner the latest available data bearing upon this interest- ing and important question. i2mo, Cloth, 280 pages OUR WAR WITH GERMANY By John Spencer Bassett. Professor of American History in Smith College Large 8vo, Cloth, 398 pages This is a compact but complete account of the part played by the United States in the World War. It is in no sense a mere record of military events, but an analytical account ot the political, economic and military events that marked the period of the war. CONSUMERS' COOPERATIVE SOCIETIES By Charles Gide, Professor of Economics at the University of Paris (translation from the French. edited by Cedric Long) 8vo, Cloth, 300 pages This translation of Professor Gide's famous work is in- tended to meet the needs of American students of Distributive Co-operation. The first three chapters are devoted to an elucidation of the meaning and history of the co-operative movement, while the bulk of the volume deals with the practical problems of organization, administration and de- velopment of consumers' societies themselves. THE ETHICS OF HERCULES By Robert Chenault Givler i2mo, Cloth 2XO pages A strictly bchavioristic treatment of ethical values. Not only is human conduct the result of external and internal stimuli upon the human body, but even our notions of right and wrong are derived from the reactions of our nerves and muscles to the various stimuli which excite them. THE ETHICS OF JOURNALISM By Nelson Antrim Crawford 8vo, Cloth 270 pages A clear-cut, objective exposition and analysis of contem- porary journalistic practice with reference to advertising, news, and editorial, carefully documented. Here is a pioneer book on a subject which is attracting keen attention especially among practicing and prospective journalists. THE BASIS OF SOCIAL THEORY By Adam G. A, Balz, with the collaboration of William S. A. Pott i2mo. Cloth 253 pages The writers of this book take the position that a science of Human Nature is requisite for the progress of all the social sciences, that Social Psychology is failing to accomplish iti fundamental purpose of clarifying the uncertainties and am- biguities concerning the nature of social facts and causes. THE TREND OF ECONOMICS By Various Writers {edited by Rexford G. Tug- well) 8vo, Cloth 550 pages A series of monographs contributed by thirteen outstand- ing American economists of the younger generation designed to set forth the present tendencies of economic thought and inquiry in the light of their historical development \ T COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY LIBRARIES This book is due on the date Indicated below, or at the expiration of a definite period after the date of borrowing, aa provided by the Ubrary rules or by special arrangement with the Librarian in charge. DATC BORROWeO J/UI27 1S60 DATE DUE DATE BORROWED DATE DUE C28( 10-53J 100M / *J .THRART or VmsiM»y^r D150 -, ^ B21 Library of Philosophy D150 B21 Ealz The basis of social theory. i JAN 27 196 ^a^g^i^ 1 ■» w ^^.i'^^"^ UNIVERSITY 0032188870