diff options
| -rw-r--r-- | .gitattributes | 3 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 2529-h.zip | bin | 0 -> 192038 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 2529-h/2529-h.htm | 9698 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 2529.txt | 8964 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 2529.zip | bin | 0 -> 186301 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | LICENSE.txt | 11 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | README.md | 2 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/analmd10.txt | 9663 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/analmd10.zip | bin | 0 -> 186540 bytes |
9 files changed, 28341 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/2529-h.zip b/2529-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..19f37eb --- /dev/null +++ b/2529-h.zip diff --git a/2529-h/2529-h.htm b/2529-h/2529-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..3658094 --- /dev/null +++ b/2529-h/2529-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,9698 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="us-ascii"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + The Analysis of Mind, by Bertrand Russell + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Analysis of Mind, by Bertrand Russell + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Analysis of Mind + +Author: Bertrand Russell + +Commentator: H. D. Lewis + +Release Date: December 6, 2008 [EBook #2529] +Last Updated: February 7, 2013 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ANALYSIS OF MIND *** + + + + +Produced by Dianne Bean, and David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + THE ANALYSIS OF MIND + </h1> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Bertrand Russell + </h2> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h3> + 1921 + </h3> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h2> + MUIRHEAD LIBRARY OF PHILOSOPHY + </h2> + <p> + An admirable statement of the aims of the Library of Philosophy was + provided by the first editor, the late Professor J. H. Muirhead, in his + description of the original programme printed in Erdmann's History of + Philosophy under the date 1890. This was slightly modified in subsequent + volumes to take the form of the following statement: + </p> + <p> + "The Muirhead Library of Philosophy was designed as a contribution to the + History of Modern Philosophy under the heads: first of Different Schools + of Thought—Sensationalist, Realist, Idealist, Intuitivist; secondly + of different Subjects—Psychology, Ethics, Aesthetics, Political + Philosophy, Theology. While much had been done in England in tracing the + course of evolution in nature, history, economics, morals and religion, + little had been done in tracing the development of thought on these + subjects. Yet 'the evolution of opinion is part of the whole evolution'. + </p> + <p> + "By the co-operation of different writers in carrying out this plan it was + hoped that a thoroughness and completeness of treatment, otherwise + unattainable, might be secured. It was believed also that from writers + mainly British and American fuller consideration of English Philosophy + than it had hitherto received might be looked for. In the earlier series + of books containing, among others, Bosanquet's "History of Aesthetic," + Pfleiderer's "Rational Theology since Kant," Albee's "History of English + Utilitarianism," Bonar's "Philosophy and Political Economy," Brett's + "History of Psychology," Ritchie's "Natural Rights," these objects were to + a large extent effected. + </p> + <p> + "In the meantime original work of a high order was being produced both in + England and America by such writers as Bradley, Stout, Bertrand Russell, + Baldwin, Urban, Montague, and others, and a new interest in foreign works, + German, French and Italian, which had either become classical or were + attracting public attention, had developed. The scope of the Library thus + became extended into something more international, and it is entering on + the fifth decade of its existence in the hope that it may contribute to + that mutual understanding between countries which is so pressing a need of + the present time." + </p> + <p> + The need which Professor Muirhead stressed is no less pressing to-day, and + few will deny that philosophy has much to do with enabling us to meet it, + although no one, least of all Muirhead himself, would regard that as the + sole, or even the main, object of philosophy. As Professor Muirhead + continues to lend the distinction of his name to the Library of Philosophy + it seemed not inappropriate to allow him to recall us to these aims in his + own words. The emphasis on the history of thought also seemed to me very + timely; and the number of important works promised for the Library in the + very near future augur well for the continued fulfilment, in this and + other ways, of the expectations of the original editor. + </p> + <p> + H. D. Lewis + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_PREF" id="link2H_PREF"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h2> + PREFACE + </h2> + <p> + This book has grown out of an attempt to harmonize two different + tendencies, one in psychology, the other in physics, with both of which I + find myself in sympathy, although at first sight they might seem + inconsistent. On the one hand, many psychologists, especially those of the + behaviourist school, tend to adopt what is essentially a materialistic + position, as a matter of method if not of metaphysics. They make + psychology increasingly dependent on physiology and external observation, + and tend to think of matter as something much more solid and indubitable + than mind. Meanwhile the physicists, especially Einstein and other + exponents of the theory of relativity, have been making "matter" less and + less material. Their world consists of "events," from which "matter" is + derived by a logical construction. Whoever reads, for example, Professor + Eddington's "Space, Time and Gravitation" (Cambridge University Press, + 1920), will see that an old-fashioned materialism can receive no support + from modern physics. I think that what has permanent value in the outlook + of the behaviourists is the feeling that physics is the most fundamental + science at present in existence. But this position cannot be called + materialistic, if, as seems to be the case, physics does not assume the + existence of matter. + </p> + <p> + The view that seems to me to reconcile the materialistic tendency of + psychology with the anti-materialistic tendency of physics is the view of + William James and the American new realists, according to which the + "stuff" of the world is neither mental nor material, but a "neutral + stuff," out of which both are constructed. I have endeavoured in this work + to develop this view in some detail as regards the phenomena with which + psychology is concerned. + </p> + <p> + My thanks are due to Professor John B. Watson and to Dr. T. P. Nunn for + reading my MSS. at an early stage and helping me with many valuable + suggestions; also to Mr. A. Wohlgemuth for much very useful information as + regards important literature. I have also to acknowledge the help of the + editor of this Library of Philosophy, Professor Muirhead, for several + suggestions by which I have profited. + </p> + <p> + The work has been given in the form of lectures both in London and Peking, + and one lecture, that on Desire, has been published in the Athenaeum. + </p> + <p> + There are a few allusions to China in this book, all of which were written + before I had been in China, and are not intended to be taken by the reader + as geographically accurate. I have used "China" merely as a synonym for "a + distant country," when I wanted illustrations of unfamiliar things. + </p> + <p> + Peking, January 1921. + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h2> + Contents + </h2> + <p> + <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> MUIRHEAD LIBRARY OF PHILOSOPHY </a><br /><br /> <a + href="#link2H_PREF"> PREFACE </a><br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> <big><b>THE + ANALYSIS OF MIND</b></big> </a><br /> + </p> + <table summary="" style="margin-right: auto; margin-left: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> LECTURE I. </a> + </td> + <td> + RECENT CRITICISMS OF "CONSCIOUSNESS" + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> LECTURE II. </a> + </td> + <td> + INSTINCT AND HABIT + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> LECTURE III. </a> + </td> + <td> + DESIRE AND FEELING + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0007"> LECTURE IV. </a> + </td> + <td> + INFLUENCE OF PAST HISTORY ON PRESENT OCCURRENCES IN LIVING + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0008"> LECTURE V. </a> + </td> + <td> + PSYCHOLOGICAL AND PHYSICAL CAUSAL LAWS + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0009"> LECTURE VI. </a> + </td> + <td> + INTROSPECTION + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0010"> LECTURE VII. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE DEFINITION OF PERCEPTION + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0011"> LECTURE VIII. </a> + </td> + <td> + SENSATIONS AND IMAGES + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0012"> LECTURE IX. </a> + </td> + <td> + MEMORY + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0013"> LECTURE X. </a> + </td> + <td> + WORDS AND MEANING + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0014"> LECTURE XI. </a> + </td> + <td> + GENERAL IDEAS AND THOUGHT + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0015"> LECTURE XII. </a> + </td> + <td> + BELIEF + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0016"> LECTURE XIII. </a> + </td> + <td> + TRUTH AND FALSEHOOD + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0017"> LECTURE XIV. </a> + </td> + <td> + EMOTIONS AND WILL + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0018"> LECTURE XV. </a> + </td> + <td> + CHARACTERISTICS OF MENTAL PHENOMENA + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h1> + THE ANALYSIS OF MIND + </h1> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LECTURE I. RECENT CRITICISMS OF "CONSCIOUSNESS" + </h2> + <p> + There are certain occurrences which we are in the habit of calling + "mental." Among these we may take as typical BELIEVING and DESIRING. The + exact definition of the word "mental" will, I hope, emerge as the lectures + proceed; for the present, I shall mean by it whatever occurrences would + commonly be called mental. + </p> + <p> + I wish in these lectures to analyse as fully as I can what it is that + really takes place when we, e.g. believe or desire. In this first lecture + I shall be concerned to refute a theory which is widely held, and which I + formerly held myself: the theory that the essence of everything mental is + a certain quite peculiar something called "consciousness," conceived + either as a relation to objects, or as a pervading quality of psychical + phenomena. + </p> + <p> + The reasons which I shall give against this theory will be mainly derived + from previous authors. There are two sorts of reasons, which will divide + my lecture into two parts: + </p> + <p> + (1) Direct reasons, derived from analysis and its difficulties; + </p> + <p> + (2) Indirect reasons, derived from observation of animals (comparative + psychology) and of the insane and hysterical (psycho-analysis). + </p> + <p> + Few things are more firmly established in popular philosophy than the + distinction between mind and matter. Those who are not professional + metaphysicians are willing to confess that they do not know what mind + actually is, or how matter is constituted; but they remain convinced that + there is an impassable gulf between the two, and that both belong to what + actually exists in the world. Philosophers, on the other hand, have + maintained often that matter is a mere fiction imagined by mind, and + sometimes that mind is a mere property of a certain kind of matter. Those + who maintain that mind is the reality and matter an evil dream are called + "idealists"—a word which has a different meaning in philosophy from + that which it bears in ordinary life. Those who argue that matter is the + reality and mind a mere property of protoplasm are called "materialists." + They have been rare among philosophers, but common, at certain periods, + among men of science. Idealists, materialists, and ordinary mortals have + been in agreement on one point: that they knew sufficiently what they + meant by the words "mind" and "matter" to be able to conduct their debate + intelligently. Yet it was just in this point, as to which they were at + one, that they seem to me to have been all alike in error. + </p> + <p> + The stuff of which the world of our experience is composed is, in my + belief, neither mind nor matter, but something more primitive than either. + Both mind and matter seem to be composite, and the stuff of which they are + compounded lies in a sense between the two, in a sense above them both, + like a common ancestor. As regards matter, I have set forth my reasons for + this view on former occasions,* and I shall not now repeat them. But the + question of mind is more difficult, and it is this question that I propose + to discuss in these lectures. A great deal of what I shall have to say is + not original; indeed, much recent work, in various fields, has tended to + show the necessity of such theories as those which I shall be advocating. + Accordingly in this first lecture I shall try to give a brief description + of the systems of ideas within which our investigation is to be carried + on. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * "Our Knowledge of the External World" (Allen & Unwin), + Chapters III and IV. Also "Mysticism and Logic," Essays VII + and VIII. +</pre> + <p> + If there is one thing that may be said, in the popular estimation, to + characterize mind, that one thing is "consciousness." We say that we are + "conscious" of what we see and hear, of what we remember, and of our own + thoughts and feelings. Most of us believe that tables and chairs are not + "conscious." We think that when we sit in a chair, we are aware of sitting + in it, but it is not aware of being sat in. It cannot for a moment be + doubted that we are right in believing that there is SOME difference + between us and the chair in this respect: so much may be taken as fact, + and as a datum for our inquiry. But as soon as we try to say what exactly + the difference is, we become involved in perplexities. Is "consciousness" + ultimate and simple, something to be merely accepted and contemplated? Or + is it something complex, perhaps consisting in our way of behaving in the + presence of objects, or, alternatively, in the existence in us of things + called "ideas," having a certain relation to objects, though different + from them, and only symbolically representative of them? Such questions + are not easy to answer; but until they are answered we cannot profess to + know what we mean by saying that we are possessed of "consciousness." + </p> + <p> + Before considering modern theories, let us look first at consciousness + from the standpoint of conventional psychology, since this embodies views + which naturally occur when we begin to reflect upon the subject. For this + purpose, let us as a preliminary consider different ways of being + conscious. + </p> + <p> + First, there is the way of PERCEPTION. We "perceive" tables and chairs, + horses and dogs, our friends, traffic passing in the street—in + short, anything which we recognize through the senses. I leave on one side + for the present the question whether pure sensation is to be regarded as a + form of consciousness: what I am speaking of now is perception, where, + according to conventional psychology, we go beyond the sensation to the + "thing" which it represents. When you hear a donkey bray, you not only + hear a noise, but realize that it comes from a donkey. When you see a + table, you not only see a coloured surface, but realize that it is hard. + The addition of these elements that go beyond crude sensation is said to + constitute perception. We shall have more to say about this at a later + stage. For the moment, I am merely concerned to note that perception of + objects is one of the most obvious examples of what is called + "consciousness." We are "conscious" of anything that we perceive. + </p> + <p> + We may take next the way of MEMORY. If I set to work to recall what I did + this morning, that is a form of consciousness different from perception, + since it is concerned with the past. There are various problems as to how + we can be conscious now of what no longer exists. These will be dealt with + incidentally when we come to the analysis of memory. + </p> + <p> + From memory it is an easy step to what are called "ideas"—not in the + Platonic sense, but in that of Locke, Berkeley and Hume, in which they are + opposed to "impressions." You may be conscious of a friend either by + seeing him or by "thinking" of him; and by "thought" you can be conscious + of objects which cannot be seen, such as the human race, or physiology. + "Thought" in the narrower sense is that form of consciousness which + consists in "ideas" as opposed to impressions or mere memories. + </p> + <p> + We may end our preliminary catalogue with BELIEF, by which I mean that way + of being conscious which may be either true or false. We say that a man is + "conscious of looking a fool," by which we mean that he believes he looks + a fool, and is not mistaken in this belief. This is a different form of + consciousness from any of the earlier ones. It is the form which gives + "knowledge" in the strict sense, and also error. It is, at least + apparently, more complex than our previous forms of consciousness; though + we shall find that they are not so separable from it as they might appear + to be. + </p> + <p> + Besides ways of being conscious there are other things that would + ordinarily be called "mental," such as desire and pleasure and pain. These + raise problems of their own, which we shall reach in Lecture III. But the + hardest problems are those that arise concerning ways of being + "conscious." These ways, taken together, are called the "cognitive" + elements in mind, and it is these that will occupy us most during the + following lectures. + </p> + <p> + There is one element which SEEMS obviously in common among the different + ways of being conscious, and that is, that they are all directed to + OBJECTS. We are conscious "of" something. The consciousness, it seems, is + one thing, and that of which we are conscious is another thing. Unless we + are to acquiesce in the view that we can never be conscious of anything + outside our own minds, we must say that the object of consciousness need + not be mental, though the consciousness must be. (I am speaking within the + circle of conventional doctrines, not expressing my own beliefs.) This + direction towards an object is commonly regarded as typical of every form + of cognition, and sometimes of mental life altogether. We may distinguish + two different tendencies in traditional psychology. There are those who + take mental phenomena naively, just as they would physical phenomena. This + school of psychologists tends not to emphasize the object. On the other + hand, there are those whose primary interest is in the apparent fact that + we have KNOWLEDGE, that there is a world surrounding us of which we are + aware. These men are interested in the mind because of its relation to the + world, because knowledge, if it is a fact, is a very mysterious one. Their + interest in psychology is naturally centred in the relation of + consciousness to its object, a problem which, properly, belongs rather to + theory of knowledge. We may take as one of the best and most typical + representatives of this school the Austrian psychologist Brentano, whose + "Psychology from the Empirical Standpoint,"* though published in 1874, is + still influential and was the starting-point of a great deal of + interesting work. He says (p. 115): + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * "Psychologie vom empirischen Standpunkte," vol. i, 1874. + (The second volume was never published.) +</pre> + <p> + "Every psychical phenomenon is characterized by what the scholastics of + the Middle Ages called the intentional (also the mental) inexistence of an + object, and what we, although with not quite unambiguous expressions, + would call relation to a content, direction towards an object (which is + not here to be understood as a reality), or immanent objectivity. Each + contains something in itself as an object, though not each in the same + way. In presentation something is presented, in judgment something is + acknowledged or rejected, in love something is loved, in hatred hated, in + desire desired, and so on. + </p> + <p> + "This intentional inexistence is exclusively peculiar to psychical + phenomena. No physical phenomenon shows anything similar. And so we can + define psychical phenomena by saying that they are phenomena which + intentionally contain an object in themselves." + </p> + <p> + The view here expressed, that relation to an object is an ultimate + irreducible characteristic of mental phenomena, is one which I shall be + concerned to combat. Like Brentano, I am interested in psychology, not so + much for its own sake, as for the light that it may throw on the problem + of knowledge. Until very lately I believed, as he did, that mental + phenomena have essential reference to objects, except possibly in the case + of pleasure and pain. Now I no longer believe this, even in the case of + knowledge. I shall try to make my reasons for this rejection clear as we + proceed. It must be evident at first glance that the analysis of knowledge + is rendered more difficult by the rejection; but the apparent simplicity + of Brentano's view of knowledge will be found, if I am not mistaken, + incapable of maintaining itself either against an analytic scrutiny or + against a host of facts in psycho-analysis and animal psychology. I do not + wish to minimize the problems. I will merely observe, in mitigation of our + prospective labours, that thinking, however it is to be analysed, is in + itself a delightful occupation, and that there is no enemy to thinking so + deadly as a false simplicity. Travelling, whether in the mental or the + physical world, is a joy, and it is good to know that, in the mental world + at least, there are vast countries still very imperfectly explored. + </p> + <p> + The view expressed by Brentano has been held very generally, and developed + by many writers. Among these we may take as an example his Austrian + successor Meinong.* According to him there are three elements involved in + the thought of an object. These three he calls the act, the content and + the object. The act is the same in any two cases of the same kind of + consciousness; for instance, if I think of Smith or think of Brown, the + act of thinking, in itself, is exactly similar on both occasions. But the + content of my thought, the particular event that is happening in my mind, + is different when I think of Smith and when I think of Brown. The content, + Meinong argues, must not be confounded with the object, since the content + must exist in my mind at the moment when I have the thought, whereas the + object need not do so. The object may be something past or future; it may + be physical, not mental; it may be something abstract, like equality for + example; it may be something imaginary, like a golden mountain; or it may + even be something self-contradictory, like a round square. But in all + these cases, so he contends, the content exists when the thought exists, + and is what distinguishes it, as an occurrence, from other thoughts. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * See, e.g. his article: "Ueber Gegenstande hoherer Ordnung + und deren Verhaltniss zur inneren Wahrnehmung," "Zeitschrift + fur Psychologie and Physiologie der Sinnesorgane," vol. xxi, + pp. 182-272 (1899), especially pp. 185-8. +</pre> + <p> + To make this theory concrete, let us suppose that you are thinking of St. + Paul's. Then, according to Meinong, we have to distinguish three elements + which are necessarily combined in constituting the one thought. First, + there is the act of thinking, which would be just the same whatever you + were thinking about. Then there is what makes the character of the thought + as contrasted with other thoughts; this is the content. And finally there + is St. Paul's, which is the object of your thought. There must be a + difference between the content of a thought and what it is about, since + the thought is here and now, whereas what it is about may not be; hence it + is clear that the thought is not identical with St. Paul's. This seems to + show that we must distinguish between content and object. But if Meinong + is right, there can be no thought without an object: the connection of the + two is essential. The object might exist without the thought, but not the + thought without the object: the three elements of act, content and object + are all required to constitute the one single occurrence called "thinking + of St. Paul's." + </p> + <p> + The above analysis of a thought, though I believe it to be mistaken, is + very useful as affording a schema in terms of which other theories can be + stated. In the remainder of the present lecture I shall state in outline + the view which I advocate, and show how various other views out of which + mine has grown result from modifications of the threefold analysis into + act, content and object. + </p> + <p> + The first criticism I have to make is that the ACT seems unnecessary and + fictitious. The occurrence of the content of a thought constitutes the + occurrence of the thought. Empirically, I cannot discover anything + corresponding to the supposed act; and theoretically I cannot see that it + is indispensable. We say: "<i>I</i> think so-and-so," and this word "I" + suggests that thinking is the act of a person. Meinong's "act" is the + ghost of the subject, or what once was the full-blooded soul. It is + supposed that thoughts cannot just come and go, but need a person to think + them. Now, of course it is true that thoughts can be collected into + bundles, so that one bundle is my thoughts, another is your thoughts, and + a third is the thoughts of Mr. Jones. But I think the person is not an + ingredient in the single thought: he is rather constituted by relations of + the thoughts to each other and to the body. This is a large question, + which need not, in its entirety, concern us at present. All that I am + concerned with for the moment is that the grammatical forms "I think," + "you think," and "Mr. Jones thinks," are misleading if regarded as + indicating an analysis of a single thought. It would be better to say "it + thinks in me," like "it rains here"; or better still, "there is a thought + in me." This is simply on the ground that what Meinong calls the act in + thinking is not empirically discoverable, or logically deducible from what + we can observe. + </p> + <p> + The next point of criticism concerns the relation of content and object. + The reference of thoughts to objects is not, I believe, the simple direct + essential thing that Brentano and Meinong represent it as being. It seems + to me to be derivative, and to consist largely in BELIEFS: beliefs that + what constitutes the thought is connected with various other elements + which together make up the object. You have, say, an image of St. Paul's, + or merely the word "St. Paul's" in your head. You believe, however vaguely + and dimly, that this is connected with what you would see if you went to + St. Paul's, or what you would feel if you touched its walls; it is further + connected with what other people see and feel, with services and the Dean + and Chapter and Sir Christopher Wren. These things are not mere thoughts + of yours, but your thought stands in a relation to them of which you are + more or less aware. The awareness of this relation is a further thought, + and constitutes your feeling that the original thought had an "object." + But in pure imagination you can get very similar thoughts without these + accompanying beliefs; and in this case your thoughts do not have objects + or seem to have them. Thus in such instances you have content without + object. On the other hand, in seeing or hearing it would be less + misleading to say that you have object without content, since what you see + or hear is actually part of the physical world, though not matter in the + sense of physics. Thus the whole question of the relation of mental + occurrences to objects grows very complicated, and cannot be settled by + regarding reference to objects as of the essence of thoughts. All the + above remarks are merely preliminary, and will be expanded later. + </p> + <p> + Speaking in popular and unphilosophical terms, we may say that the content + of a thought is supposed to be something in your head when you think the + thought, while the object is usually something in the outer world. It is + held that knowledge of the outer world is constituted by the relation to + the object, while the fact that knowledge is different from what it knows + is due to the fact that knowledge comes by way of contents. We can begin + to state the difference between realism and idealism in terms of this + opposition of contents and objects. Speaking quite roughly and + approximately, we may say that idealism tends to suppress the object, + while realism tends to suppress the content. Idealism, accordingly, says + that nothing can be known except thoughts, and all the reality that we + know is mental; while realism maintains that we know objects directly, in + sensation certainly, and perhaps also in memory and thought. Idealism does + not say that nothing can be known beyond the present thought, but it + maintains that the context of vague belief, which we spoke of in + connection with the thought of St. Paul's, only takes you to other + thoughts, never to anything radically different from thoughts. The + difficulty of this view is in regard to sensation, where it seems as if we + came into direct contact with the outer world. But the Berkeleian way of + meeting this difficulty is so familiar that I need not enlarge upon it + now. I shall return to it in a later lecture, and will only observe, for + the present, that there seem to me no valid grounds for regarding what we + see and hear as not part of the physical world. + </p> + <p> + Realists, on the other hand, as a rule, suppress the content, and maintain + that a thought consists either of act and object alone, or of object + alone. I have been in the past a realist, and I remain a realist as + regards sensation, but not as regards memory or thought. I will try to + explain what seem to me to be the reasons for and against various kinds of + realism. + </p> + <p> + Modern idealism professes to be by no means confined to the present + thought or the present thinker in regard to its knowledge; indeed, it + contends that the world is so organic, so dove-tailed, that from any one + portion the whole can be inferred, as the complete skeleton of an extinct + animal can be inferred from one bone. But the logic by which this supposed + organic nature of the world is nominally demonstrated appears to realists, + as it does to me, to be faulty. They argue that, if we cannot know the + physical world directly, we cannot really know any thing outside our own + minds: the rest of the world may be merely our dream. This is a dreary + view, and they there fore seek ways of escaping from it. Accordingly they + maintain that in knowledge we are in direct contact with objects, which + may be, and usually are, outside our own minds. No doubt they are prompted + to this view, in the first place, by bias, namely, by the desire to think + that they can know of the existence of a world outside themselves. But we + have to consider, not what led them to desire the view, but whether their + arguments for it are valid. + </p> + <p> + There are two different kinds of realism, according as we make a thought + consist of act and object, or of object alone. Their difficulties are + different, but neither seems tenable all through. Take, for the sake of + definiteness, the remembering of a past event. The remembering occurs now, + and is therefore necessarily not identical with the past event. So long as + we retain the act, this need cause no difficulty. The act of remembering + occurs now, and has on this view a certain essential relation to the past + event which it remembers. There is no LOGICAL objection to this theory, + but there is the objection, which we spoke of earlier, that the act seems + mythical, and is not to be found by observation. If, on the other hand, we + try to constitute memory without the act, we are driven to a content, + since we must have something that happens NOW, as opposed to the event + which happened in the past. Thus, when we reject the act, which I think we + must, we are driven to a theory of memory which is more akin to idealism. + These arguments, however, do not apply to sensation. It is especially + sensation, I think, which is considered by those realists who retain only + the object.* Their views, which are chiefly held in America, are in large + measure derived from William James, and before going further it will be + well to consider the revolutionary doctrine which he advocated. I believe + this doctrine contains important new truth, and what I shall have to say + will be in a considerable measure inspired by it. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * This is explicitly the case with Mach's "Analysis of + Sensations," a book of fundamental importance in the present + connection. (Translation of fifth German edition, Open Court + Co., 1914. First German edition, 1886.) +</pre> + <p> + William James's view was first set forth in an essay called "Does + 'consciousness' exist?"* In this essay he explains how what used to be the + soul has gradually been refined down to the "transcendental ego," which, + he says, "attenuates itself to a thoroughly ghostly condition, being only + a name for the fact that the 'content' of experience IS KNOWN. It loses + personal form and activity—these passing over to the content—and + becomes a bare Bewusstheit or Bewusstsein uberhaupt, of which in its own + right absolutely nothing can be said. I believe (he continues) that + 'consciousness,' when once it has evaporated to this estate of pure + diaphaneity, is on the point of disappearing altogether. It is the name of + a nonentity, and has no right to a place among first principles. Those who + still cling to it are clinging to a mere echo, the faint rumour left + behind by the disappearing 'soul' upon the air of philosophy"(p. 2). + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * "Journal of Philosophy, Psychology and Scientific + Methods," vol. i, 1904. Reprinted in "Essays in Radical + Empiricism" (Longmans, Green & Co., 1912), pp. 1-38, to + which references in what follows refer. +</pre> + <p> + He explains that this is no sudden change in his opinions. "For twenty + years past," he says, "I have mistrusted 'consciousness' as an entity; for + seven or eight years past I have suggested its non-existence to my + students, and tried to give them its pragmatic equivalent in realities of + experience. It seems to me that the hour is ripe for it to be openly and + universally discarded"(p. 3). + </p> + <p> + His next concern is to explain away the air of paradox, for James was + never wilfully paradoxical. "Undeniably," he says, "'thoughts' do exist." + "I mean only to deny that the word stands for an entity, but to insist + most emphatically that it does stand for a function. There is, I mean, no + aboriginal stuff or quality of being, contrasted with that of which + material objects are made, out of which our thoughts of them are made; but + there is a function in experience which thoughts perform, and for the + performance of which this quality of being is invoked. That function is + KNOWING"(pp. 3-4). + </p> + <p> + James's view is that the raw material out of which the world is built up + is not of two sorts, one matter and the other mind, but that it is + arranged in different patterns by its inter-relations, and that some + arrangements may be called mental, while others may be called physical. + </p> + <p> + "My thesis is," he says, "that if we start with the supposition that there + is only one primal stuff or material in the world, a stuff of which + everything is composed, and if we call that stuff 'pure experience,' then + knowing can easily be explained as a particular sort of relation towards + one another into which portions of pure experience may enter. The relation + itself is a part of pure experience; one of its 'terms' becomes the + subject or bearer of the knowledge, the knower, the other becomes the + object known"(p. 4). + </p> + <p> + After mentioning the duality of subject and object, which is supposed to + constitute consciousness, he proceeds in italics: "EXPERIENCE, I BELIEVE, + HAS NO SUCH INNER DUPLICITY; AND THE SEPARATION OF IT INTO CONSCIOUSNESS + AND CONTENT COMES, NOT BY WAY OF SUBTRACTION, BUT BY WAY OF ADDITION"(p. + 9). + </p> + <p> + He illustrates his meaning by the analogy of paint as it appears in a + paint-shop and as it appears in a picture: in the one case it is just + "saleable matter," while in the other it "performs a spiritual function. + Just so, I maintain (he continues), does a given undivided portion of + experience, taken in one context of associates, play the part of a knower, + of a state of mind, of 'consciousness'; while in a different context the + same undivided bit of experience plays the part of a thing known, of an + objective 'content.' In a word, in one group it figures as a thought, in + another group as a thing"(pp. 9-10). + </p> + <p> + He does not believe in the supposed immediate certainty of thought. "Let + the case be what it may in others," he says, "I am as confident as I am of + anything that, in myself, the stream of thinking (which I recognize + emphatically as a phenomenon) is only a careless name for what, when + scrutinized, reveals itself to consist chiefly of the stream of my + breathing. The 'I think' which Kant said must be able to accompany all my + objects, is the 'I breathe' which actually does accompany them"(pp. + 36-37). + </p> + <p> + The same view of "consciousness" is set forth in the succeeding essay, "A + World of Pure Experience" (ib., pp. 39-91). The use of the phrase "pure + experience" in both essays points to a lingering influence of idealism. + "Experience," like "consciousness," must be a product, not part of the + primary stuff of the world. It must be possible, if James is right in his + main contentions, that roughly the same stuff, differently arranged, would + not give rise to anything that could be called "experience." This word has + been dropped by the American realists, among whom we may mention specially + Professor R. B. Perry of Harvard and Mr. Edwin B. Holt. The interests of + this school are in general philosophy and the philosophy of the sciences, + rather than in psychology; they have derived a strong impulsion from + James, but have more interest than he had in logic and mathematics and the + abstract part of philosophy. They speak of "neutral" entities as the stuff + out of which both mind and matter are constructed. Thus Holt says: "If the + terms and propositions of logic must be substantialized, they are all + strictly of one substance, for which perhaps the least dangerous name is + neutral-stuff. The relation of neutral-stuff to matter and mind we shall + have presently to consider at considerable length." * + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * "The Concept of Consciousness" (Geo. Allen & Co., 1914), + p. 52. +</pre> + <p> + My own belief—for which the reasons will appear in subsequent + lectures—is that James is right in rejecting consciousness as an + entity, and that the American realists are partly right, though not + wholly, in considering that both mind and matter are composed of a + neutral-stuff which, in isolation, is neither mental nor material. I + should admit this view as regards sensations: what is heard or seen + belongs equally to psychology and to physics. But I should say that images + belong only to the mental world, while those occurrences (if any) which do + not form part of any "experience" belong only to the physical world. There + are, it seems to me, prima facie different kinds of causal laws, one + belonging to physics and the other to psychology. The law of gravitation, + for example, is a physical law, while the law of association is a + psychological law. Sensations are subject to both kinds of laws, and are + therefore truly "neutral" in Holt's sense. But entities subject only to + physical laws, or only to psychological laws, are not neutral, and may be + called respectively purely material and purely mental. Even those, + however, which are purely mental will not have that intrinsic reference to + objects which Brentano assigns to them and which constitutes the essence + of "consciousness" as ordinarily understood. But it is now time to pass on + to other modern tendencies, also hostile to "consciousness." + </p> + <p> + There is a psychological school called "Behaviourists," of whom the + protagonist is Professor John B. Watson,* formerly of the Johns Hopkins + University. To them also, on the whole, belongs Professor John Dewey, who, + with James and Dr. Schiller, was one of the three founders of pragmatism. + The view of the "behaviourists" is that nothing can be known except by + external observation. They deny altogether that there is a separate source + of knowledge called "introspection," by which we can know things about + ourselves which we could never observe in others. They do not by any means + deny that all sorts of things MAY go on in our minds: they only say that + such things, if they occur, are not susceptible of scientific observation, + and do not therefore concern psychology as a science. Psychology as a + science, they say, is only concerned with BEHAVIOUR, i.e. with what we DO; + this alone, they contend, can be accurately observed. Whether we think + meanwhile, they tell us, cannot be known; in their observation of the + behaviour of human beings, they have not so far found any evidence of + thought. True, we talk a great deal, and imagine that in so doing we are + showing that we can think; but behaviourists say that the talk they have + to listen to can be explained without supposing that people think. Where + you might expect a chapter on "thought processes" you come instead upon a + chapter on "The Language Habit." It is humiliating to find how terribly + adequate this hypothesis turns out to be. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * See especially his "Behavior: an Introduction to + Comparative Psychology," New York, 1914. +</pre> + <p> + Behaviourism has not, however, sprung from observing the folly of men. It + is the wisdom of animals that has suggested the view. It has always been a + common topic of popular discussion whether animals "think." On this topic + people are prepared to take sides without having the vaguest idea what + they mean by "thinking." Those who desired to investigate such questions + were led to observe the behaviour of animals, in the hope that their + behaviour would throw some light on their mental faculties. At first + sight, it might seem that this is so. People say that a dog "knows" its + name because it comes when it is called, and that it "remembers" its + master, because it looks sad in his absence, but wags its tail and barks + when he returns. That the dog behaves in this way is matter of + observation, but that it "knows" or "remembers" anything is an inference, + and in fact a very doubtful one. The more such inferences are examined, + the more precarious they are seen to be. Hence the study of animal + behaviour has been gradually led to abandon all attempt at mental + interpretation. And it can hardly be doubted that, in many cases of + complicated behaviour very well adapted to its ends, there can be no + prevision of those ends. The first time a bird builds a nest, we can + hardly suppose it knows that there will be eggs to be laid in it, or that + it will sit on the eggs, or that they will hatch into young birds. It does + what it does at each stage because instinct gives it an impulse to do just + that, not because it foresees and desires the result of its actions.* + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * An interesting discussion of the question whether + instinctive actions, when first performed, involve any + prevision, however vague, will be found in Lloyd Morgan's + "Instinct and Experience" (Methuen, 1912), chap. ii. +</pre> + <p> + Careful observers of animals, being anxious to avoid precarious + inferences, have gradually discovered more and more how to give an account + of the actions of animals without assuming what we call "consciousness." + It has seemed to the behaviourists that similar methods can be applied to + human behaviour, without assuming anything not open to external + observation. Let us give a crude illustration, too crude for the authors + in question, but capable of affording a rough insight into their meaning. + Suppose two children in a school, both of whom are asked "What is six + times nine?" One says fifty-four, the other says fifty-six. The one, we + say, "knows" what six times nine is, the other does not. But all that we + can observe is a certain language-habit. The one child has acquired the + habit of saying "six times nine is fifty-four"; the other has not. There + is no more need of "thought" in this than there is when a horse turns into + his accustomed stable; there are merely more numerous and complicated + habits. There is obviously an observable fact called "knowing" + such-and-such a thing; examinations are experiments for discovering such + facts. But all that is observed or discovered is a certain set of habits + in the use of words. The thoughts (if any) in the mind of the examinee are + of no interest to the examiner; nor has the examiner any reason to suppose + even the most successful examinee capable of even the smallest amount of + thought. + </p> + <p> + Thus what is called "knowing," in the sense in which we can ascertain what + other people "know," is a phenomenon exemplified in their physical + behaviour, including spoken and written words. There is no reason—so + Watson argues—to suppose that their knowledge IS anything beyond the + habits shown in this behaviour: the inference that other people have + something nonphysical called "mind" or "thought" is therefore unwarranted. + </p> + <p> + So far, there is nothing particularly repugnant to our prejudices in the + conclusions of the behaviourists. We are all willing to admit that other + people are thoughtless. But when it comes to ourselves, we feel convinced + that we can actually perceive our own thinking. "Cogito, ergo sum" would + be regarded by most people as having a true premiss. This, however, the + behaviourist denies. He maintains that our knowledge of ourselves is no + different in kind from our knowledge of other people. We may see MORE, + because our own body is easier to observe than that of other people; but + we do not see anything radically unlike what we see of others. + Introspection, as a separate source of knowledge, is entirely denied by + psychologists of this school. I shall discuss this question at length in a + later lecture; for the present I will only observe that it is by no means + simple, and that, though I believe the behaviourists somewhat overstate + their case, yet there is an important element of truth in their + contention, since the things which we can discover by introspection do not + seem to differ in any very fundamental way from the things which we + discover by external observation. + </p> + <p> + So far, we have been principally concerned with knowing. But it might well + be maintained that desiring is what is really most characteristic of mind. + Human beings are constantly engaged in achieving some end they feel + pleasure in success and pain in failure. In a purely material world, it + may be said, there would be no opposition of pleasant and unpleasant, good + and bad, what is desired and what is feared. A man's acts are governed by + purposes. He decides, let us suppose, to go to a certain place, whereupon + he proceeds to the station, takes his ticket and enters the train. If the + usual route is blocked by an accident, he goes by some other route. All + that he does is determined—or so it seems—by the end he has in + view, by what lies in front of him, rather than by what lies behind. With + dead matter, this is not the case. A stone at the top of a hill may start + rolling, but it shows no pertinacity in trying to get to the bottom. Any + ledge or obstacle will stop it, and it will exhibit no signs of discontent + if this happens. It is not attracted by the pleasantness of the valley, as + a sheep or cow might be, but propelled by the steepness of the hill at the + place where it is. In all this we have characteristic differences between + the behaviour of animals and the behaviour of matter as studied by + physics. + </p> + <p> + Desire, like knowledge, is, of course, in one sense an observable + phenomenon. An elephant will eat a bun, but not a mutton chop; a duck will + go into the water, but a hen will not. But when we think of our own + desires, most people believe that we can know them by an immediate + self-knowledge which does not depend upon observation of our actions. Yet + if this were the case, it would be odd that people are so often mistaken + as to what they desire. It is matter of common observation that "so-and-so + does not know his own motives," or that "A is envious of B and malicious + about him, but quite unconscious of being so." Such people are called + self-deceivers, and are supposed to have had to go through some more or + less elaborate process of concealing from themselves what would otherwise + have been obvious. I believe that this is an entire mistake. I believe + that the discovery of our own motives can only be made by the same process + by which we discover other people's, namely, the process of observing our + actions and inferring the desire which could prompt them. A desire is + "conscious" when we have told ourselves that we have it. A hungry man may + say to himself: "Oh, I do want my lunch." Then his desire is "conscious." + But it only differs from an "unconscious" desire by the presence of + appropriate words, which is by no means a fundamental difference. + </p> + <p> + The belief that a motive is normally conscious makes it easier to be + mistaken as to our own motives than as to other people's. When some desire + that we should be ashamed of is attributed to us, we notice that we have + never had it consciously, in the sense of saying to ourselves, "I wish + that would happen." We therefore look for some other interpretation of our + actions, and regard our friends as very unjust when they refuse to be + convinced by our repudiation of what we hold to be a calumny. Moral + considerations greatly increase the difficulty of clear thinking in this + matter. It is commonly argued that people are not to blame for unconscious + motives, but only for conscious ones. In order, therefore, to be wholly + virtuous it is only necessary to repeat virtuous formulas. We say: "I + desire to be kind to my friends, honourable in business, philanthropic + towards the poor, public-spirited in politics." So long as we refuse to + allow ourselves, even in the watches of the night, to avow any contrary + desires, we may be bullies at home, shady in the City, skinflints in + paying wages and profiteers in dealing with the public; yet, if only + conscious motives are to count in moral valuation, we shall remain model + characters. This is an agreeable doctrine, and it is not surprising that + men are un willing to abandon it. But moral considerations are the worst + enemies of the scientific spirit and we must dismiss them from our minds + if we wish to arrive at truth. + </p> + <p> + I believe—as I shall try to prove in a later lecture—that + desire, like force in mechanics, is of the nature of a convenient fiction + for describing shortly certain laws of behaviour. A hungry animal is + restless until it finds food; then it becomes quiescent. The thing which + will bring a restless condition to an end is said to be what is desired. + But only experience can show what will have this sedative effect, and it + is easy to make mistakes. We feel dissatisfaction, and think that such + and-such a thing would remove it; but in thinking this, we are theorizing, + not observing a patent fact. Our theorizing is often mistaken, and when it + is mistaken there is a difference between what we think we desire and what + in fact will bring satisfaction. This is such a common phenomenon that any + theory of desire which fails to account for it must be wrong. + </p> + <p> + What have been called "unconscious" desires have been brought very much to + the fore in recent years by psycho-analysis. Psycho-analysis, as every one + knows, is primarily a method of understanding hysteria and certain forms + of insanity*; but it has been found that there is much in the lives of + ordinary men and women which bears a humiliating resemblance to the + delusions of the insane. The connection of dreams, irrational beliefs and + foolish actions with unconscious wishes has been brought to light, though + with some exaggeration, by Freud and Jung and their followers. As regards + the nature of these unconscious wishes, it seems to me—though as a + layman I speak with diffidence—that many psycho-analysts are unduly + narrow; no doubt the wishes they emphasize exist, but others, e.g. for + honour and power, are equally operative and equally liable to concealment. + This, however, does not affect the value of their general theories from + the point of view of theoretic psychology, and it is from this point of + view that their results are important for the analysis of mind. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * There is a wide field of "unconscious" phenomena which + does not depend upon psycho-analytic theories. Such + occurrences as automatic writing lead Dr. Morton Prince to + say: "As I view this question of the subconscious, far too + much weight is given to the point of awareness or not + awareness of our conscious processes. As a matter of fact, + we find entirely identical phenomena, that is, identical in + every respect but one-that of awareness in which sometimes + we are aware of these conscious phenomena and sometimes + not"(p. 87 of "Subconscious Phenomena," by various authors, + Rebman). Dr. Morton Price conceives that there may be + "consciousness" without "awareness." But this is a difficult + view, and one which makes some definition of "consciousness" + imperative. For nay part, I cannot see how to separate + consciousness from awareness. +</pre> + <p> + What, I think, is clearly established, is that a man's actions and beliefs + may be wholly dominated by a desire of which he is quite unconscious, and + which he indignantly repudiates when it is suggested to him. Such a desire + is generally, in morbid cases, of a sort which the patient would consider + wicked; if he had to admit that he had the desire, he would loathe + himself. Yet it is so strong that it must force an outlet for itself; + hence it becomes necessary to entertain whole systems of false beliefs in + order to hide the nature of what is desired. The resulting delusions in + very many cases disappear if the hysteric or lunatic can be made to face + the facts about himself. The consequence of this is that the treatment of + many forms of insanity has grown more psychological and less physiological + than it used to be. Instead of looking for a physical defect in the brain, + those who treat delusions look for the repressed desire which has found + this contorted mode of expression. For those who do not wish to plunge + into the somewhat repulsive and often rather wild theories of + psychoanalytic pioneers, it will be worth while to read a little book by + Dr. Bernard Hart on "The Psychology of Insanity."* On this question of the + mental as opposed to the physiological study of the causes of insanity, + Dr. Hart says: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * Cambridge, 1912; 2nd edition, 1914. The following + references are to the second edition. +</pre> + <p> + "The psychological conception [of insanity] is based on the view that + mental processes can be directly studied without any reference to the + accompanying changes which are presumed to take place in the brain, and + that insanity may therefore be properly attacked from the standpoint of + psychology"(p. 9). + </p> + <p> + This illustrates a point which I am anxious to make clear from the outset. + Any attempt to classify modern views, such as I propose to advocate, from + the old standpoint of materialism and idealism, is only misleading. In + certain respects, the views which I shall be setting forth approximate to + materialism; in certain others, they approximate to its opposite. On this + question of the study of delusions, the practical effect of the modern + theories, as Dr. Hart points out, is emancipation from the materialist + method. On the other hand, as he also points out (pp. 38-9), imbecility + and dementia still have to be considered physiologically, as caused by + defects in the brain. There is no inconsistency in this If, as we + maintain, mind and matter are neither of them the actual stuff of reality, + but different convenient groupings of an underlying material, then, + clearly, the question whether, in regard to a given phenomenon, we are to + seek a physical or a mental cause, is merely one to be decided by trial. + Metaphysicians have argued endlessly as to the interaction of mind and + matter. The followers of Descartes held that mind and matter are so + different as to make any action of the one on the other impossible. When I + will to move my arm, they said, it is not my will that operates on my arm, + but God, who, by His omnipotence, moves my arm whenever I want it moved. + The modern doctrine of psychophysical parallelism is not appreciably + different from this theory of the Cartesian school. Psycho-physical + parallelism is the theory that mental and physical events each have causes + in their own sphere, but run on side by side owing to the fact that every + state of the brain coexists with a definite state of the mind, and vice + versa. This view of the reciprocal causal independence of mind and matter + has no basis except in metaphysical theory.* For us, there is no necessity + to make any such assumption, which is very difficult to harmonize with + obvious facts. I receive a letter inviting me to dinner: the letter is a + physical fact, but my apprehension of its meaning is mental. Here we have + an effect of matter on mind. In consequence of my apprehension of the + meaning of the letter, I go to the right place at the right time; here we + have an effect of mind on matter. I shall try to persuade you, in the + course of these lectures, that matter is not so material and mind not so + mental as is generally supposed. When we are speaking of matter, it will + seem as if we were inclining to idealism; when we are speaking of mind, it + will seem as if we were inclining to materialism. Neither is the truth. + Our world is to be constructed out of what the American realists call + "neutral" entities, which have neither the hardness and indestructibility + of matter, nor the reference to objects which is supposed to characterize + mind. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * It would seem, however, that Dr. Hart accepts this theory + as 8 methodological precept. See his contribution to + "Subconscious Phenomena" (quoted above), especially pp. 121-2. +</pre> + <p> + There is, it is true, one objection which might be felt, not indeed to the + action of matter on mind, but to the action of mind on matter. The laws of + physics, it may be urged, are apparently adequate to explain everything + that happens to matter, even when it is matter in a man's brain. This, + however, is only a hypothesis, not an established theory. There is no + cogent empirical reason for supposing that the laws determining the + motions of living bodies are exactly the same as those that apply to dead + matter. Sometimes, of course, they are clearly the same. When a man falls + from a precipice or slips on a piece of orange peel, his body behaves as + if it were devoid of life. These are the occasions that make Bergson + laugh. But when a man's bodily movements are what we call "voluntary," + they are, at any rate prima facie, very different in their laws from the + movements of what is devoid of life. I do not wish to say dogmatically + that the difference is irreducible; I think it highly probable that it is + not. I say only that the study of the behaviour of living bodies, in the + present state of our knowledge, is distinct from physics. The study of + gases was originally quite distinct from that of rigid bodies, and would + never have advanced to its present state if it had not been independently + pursued. Nowadays both the gas and the rigid body are manufactured out of + a more primitive and universal kind of matter. In like manner, as a + question of methodology, the laws of living bodies are to be studied, in + the first place, without any undue haste to subordinate them to the laws + of physics. Boyle's law and the rest had to be discovered before the + kinetic theory of gases became possible. But in psychology we are hardly + yet at the stage of Boyle's law. Meanwhile we need not be held up by the + bogey of the universal rigid exactness of physics. This is, as yet, a mere + hypothesis, to be tested empirically without any preconceptions. It may be + true, or it may not. So far, that is all we can say. + </p> + <p> + Returning from this digression to our main topic, namely, the criticism of + "consciousness," we observe that Freud and his followers, though they have + demonstrated beyond dispute the immense importance of "unconscious" + desires in determining our actions and beliefs, have not attempted the + task of telling us what an "unconscious" desire actually is, and have thus + invested their doctrine with an air of mystery and mythology which forms a + large part of its popular attractiveness. They speak always as though it + were more normal for a desire to be conscious, and as though a positive + cause had to be assigned for its being unconscious. Thus "the unconscious" + becomes a sort of underground prisoner, living in a dungeon, breaking in + at long intervals upon our daylight respectability with dark groans and + maledictions and strange atavistic lusts. The ordinary reader, almost + inevitably, thinks of this underground person as another consciousness, + prevented by what Freud calls the "censor" from making his voice heard in + company, except on rare and dreadful occasions when he shouts so loud that + every one hears him and there is a scandal. Most of us like the idea that + we could be desperately wicked if only we let ourselves go. For this + reason, the Freudian "unconscious" has been a consolation to many quiet + and well-behaved persons. + </p> + <p> + I do not think the truth is quite so picturesque as this. I believe an + "unconscious" desire is merely a causal law of our behaviour,* namely, + that we remain restlessly active until a certain state of affairs is + realized, when we achieve temporary equilibrium If we know beforehand what + this state of affairs is, our desire is conscious; if not, unconscious. + The unconscious desire is not something actually existing, but merely a + tendency to a certain behaviour; it has exactly the same status as a force + in dynamics. The unconscious desire is in no way mysterious; it is the + natural primitive form of desire, from which the other has developed + through our habit of observing and theorizing (often wrongly). It is not + necessary to suppose, as Freud seems to do, that every unconscious wish + was once conscious, and was then, in his terminology, "repressed" because + we disapproved of it. On the contrary, we shall suppose that, although + Freudian "repression" undoubtedly occurs and is important, it is not the + usual reason for unconsciousness of our wishes. The usual reason is merely + that wishes are all, to begin with, unconscious, and only become known + when they are actively noticed. Usually, from laziness, people do not + notice, but accept the theory of human nature which they find current, and + attribute to themselves whatever wishes this theory would lead them to + expect. We used to be full of virtuous wishes, but since Freud our wishes + have become, in the words of the Prophet Jeremiah, "deceitful above all + things and desperately wicked." Both these views, in most of those who + have held them, are the product of theory rather than observation, for + observation requires effort, whereas repeating phrases does not. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * Cf. Hart, "The Psychology of Insanity," p. 19. +</pre> + <p> + The interpretation of unconscious wishes which I have been advocating has + been set forth briefly by Professor John B. Watson in an article called + "The Psychology of Wish Fulfilment," which appeared in "The Scientific + Monthly" in November, 1916. Two quotations will serve to show his point of + view: + </p> + <p> + "The Freudians (he says) have made more or less of a 'metaphysical entity' + out of the censor. They suppose that when wishes are repressed they are + repressed into the 'unconscious,' and that this mysterious censor stands + at the trapdoor lying between the conscious and the unconscious. Many of + us do not believe in a world of the unconscious (a few of us even have + grave doubts about the usefulness of the term consciousness), hence we try + to explain censorship along ordinary biological lines. We believe that one + group of habits can 'down' another group of habits—or instincts. In + this case our ordinary system of habits—those which we call + expressive of our 'real selves'—inhibit or quench (keep inactive or + partially inactive) those habits and instinctive tendencies which belong + largely in the past"(p. 483). + </p> + <p> + Again, after speaking of the frustration of some impulses which is + involved in acquiring the habits of a civilized adult, he continues: + </p> + <p> + "It is among these frustrated impulses that I would find the biological + basis of the unfulfilled wish. Such 'wishes' need never have been + 'conscious,' and NEED NEVER HAVE BEEN SUPPRESSED INTO FREUD'S REALM OF THE + UNCONSCIOUS. It may be inferred from this that there is no particular + reason for applying the term 'wish' to such tendencies"(p. 485). + </p> + <p> + One of the merits of the general analysis of mind which we shall be + concerned with in the following lectures is that it removes the atmosphere + of mystery from the phenomena brought to light by the psycho-analysts. + Mystery is delightful, but unscientific, since it depends upon ignorance. + Man has developed out of the animals, and there is no serious gap between + him and the amoeba. Something closely analogous to knowledge and desire, + as regards its effects on behaviour, exists among animals, even where what + we call "consciousness" is hard to believe in; something equally analogous + exists in ourselves in cases where no trace of "consciousness" can be + found. It is therefore natural to suppose that, what ever may be the + correct definition of "consciousness," "consciousness" is not the essence + of life or mind. In the following lectures, accordingly, this term will + disappear until we have dealt with words, when it will re-emerge as mainly + a trivial and unimportant outcome of linguistic habits. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LECTURE II. INSTINCT AND HABIT + </h2> + <p> + In attempting to understand the elements out of which mental phenomena are + compounded, it is of the greatest importance to remember that from the + protozoa to man there is nowhere a very wide gap either in structure or in + behaviour. From this fact it is a highly probable inference that there is + also nowhere a very wide mental gap. It is, of course, POSSIBLE that there + may be, at certain stages in evolution, elements which are entirely new + from the standpoint of analysis, though in their nascent form they have + little influence on behaviour and no very marked correlatives in + structure. But the hypothesis of continuity in mental development is + clearly preferable if no psychological facts make it impossible. We shall + find, if I am not mistaken, that there are no facts which refute the + hypothesis of mental continuity, and that, on the other hand, this + hypothesis affords a useful test of suggested theories as to the nature of + mind. + </p> + <p> + The hypothesis of mental continuity throughout organic evolution may be + used in two different ways. On the one hand, it may be held that we have + more knowledge of our own minds than those of animals, and that we should + use this knowledge to infer the existence of something similar to our own + mental processes in animals and even in plants. On the other hand, it may + be held that animals and plants present simpler phenomena, more easily + analysed than those of human minds; on this ground it may be urged that + explanations which are adequate in the case of animals ought not to be + lightly rejected in the case of man. The practical effects of these two + views are diametrically opposite: the first leads us to level up animal + intelligence with what we believe ourselves to know about our own + intelligence, while the second leads us to attempt a levelling down of our + own intelligence to something not too remote from what we can observe in + animals. It is therefore important to consider the relative justification + of the two ways of applying the principle of continuity. + </p> + <p> + It is clear that the question turns upon another, namely, which can we + know best, the psychology of animals or that of human beings? If we can + know most about animals, we shall use this knowledge as a basis for + inference about human beings; if we can know most about human beings, we + shall adopt the opposite procedure. And the question whether we can know + most about the psychology of human beings or about that of animals turns + upon yet another, namely: Is introspection or external observation the + surer method in psychology? This is a question which I propose to discuss + at length in Lecture VI; I shall therefore content myself now with a + statement of the conclusions to be arrived at. + </p> + <p> + We know a great many things concerning ourselves which we cannot know + nearly so directly concerning animals or even other people. We know when + we have a toothache, what we are thinking of, what dreams we have when we + are asleep, and a host of other occurrences which we only know about + others when they tell us of them, or otherwise make them inferable by + their behaviour. Thus, so far as knowledge of detached facts is concerned, + the advantage is on the side of self-knowledge as against external + observation. + </p> + <p> + But when we come to the analysis and scientific understanding of the + facts, the advantages on the side of self-knowledge become far less clear. + We know, for example, that we have desires and beliefs, but we do not know + what constitutes a desire or a belief. The phenomena are so familiar that + it is difficult to realize how little we really know about them. We see in + animals, and to a lesser extent in plants, behaviour more or less similar + to that which, in us, is prompted by desires and beliefs, and we find + that, as we descend in the scale of evolution, behaviour becomes simpler, + more easily reducible to rule, more scientifically analysable and + predictable. And just because we are not misled by familiarity we find it + easier to be cautious in interpreting behaviour when we are dealing with + phenomena remote from those of our own minds: Moreover, introspection, as + psychoanalysis has demonstrated, is extraordinarily fallible even in cases + where we feel a high degree of certainty. The net result seems to be that, + though self-knowledge has a definite and important contribution to make to + psychology, it is exceedingly misleading unless it is constantly checked + and controlled by the test of external observation, and by the theories + which such observation suggests when applied to animal behaviour. On the + whole, therefore, there is probably more to be learnt about human + psychology from animals than about animal psychology from human beings; + but this conclusion is one of degree, and must not be pressed beyond a + point. + </p> + <p> + It is only bodily phenomena that can be directly observed in animals, or + even, strictly speaking, in other human beings. We can observe such things + as their movements, their physiological processes, and the sounds they + emit. Such things as desires and beliefs, which seem obvious to + introspection, are not visible directly to external observation. + Accordingly, if we begin our study of psychology by external observation, + we must not begin by assuming such things as desires and beliefs, but only + such things as external observation can reveal, which will be + characteristics of the movements and physiological processes of animals. + Some animals, for example, always run away from light and hide themselves + in dark places. If you pick up a mossy stone which is lightly embedded in + the earth, you will see a number of small animals scuttling away from the + unwonted daylight and seeking again the darkness of which you have + deprived them. Such animals are sensitive to light, in the sense that + their movements are affected by it; but it would be rash to infer that + they have sensations in any way analogous to our sensations of sight. Such + inferences, which go beyond the observable facts, are to be avoided with + the utmost care. + </p> + <p> + It is customary to divide human movements into three classes, voluntary, + reflex and mechanical. We may illustrate the distinction by a quotation + from William James ("Psychology," i, 12): + </p> + <p> + "If I hear the conductor calling 'all aboard' as I enter the depot, my + heart first stops, then palpitates, and my legs respond to the air-waves + falling on my tympanum by quickening their movements. If I stumble as I + run, the sensation of falling provokes a movement of the hands towards the + direction of the fall, the effect of which is to shield the body from too + sudden a shock. If a cinder enter my eye, its lids close forcibly and a + copious flow of tears tends to wash it out. + </p> + <p> + "These three responses to a sensational stimulus differ, however, in many + respects. The closure of the eye and the lachrymation are quite + involuntary, and so is the disturbance of the heart. Such involuntary + responses we know as 'reflex' acts. The motion of the arms to break the + shock of falling may also be called reflex, since it occurs too quickly to + be deliberately intended. Whether it be instinctive or whether it result + from the pedestrian education of childhood may be doubtful; it is, at any + rate, less automatic than the previous acts, for a man might by conscious + effort learn to perform it more skilfully, or even to suppress it + altogether. Actions of this kind, with which instinct and volition enter + upon equal terms, have been called 'semi-reflex.' The act of running + towards the train, on the other hand, has no instinctive element about it. + It is purely the result of education, and is preceded by a consciousness + of the purpose to be attained and a distinct mandate of the will. It is a + 'voluntary act.' Thus the animal's reflex and voluntary performances shade + into each other gradually, being connected by acts which may often occur + automatically, but may also be modified by conscious intelligence. + </p> + <p> + "An outside observer, unable to perceive the accompanying consciousness, + might be wholly at a loss to discriminate between the automatic acts and + those which volition escorted. But if the criterion of mind's existence be + the choice of the proper means for the attainment of a supposed end, all + the acts alike seem to be inspired by intelligence, for APPROPRIATENESS + characterizes them all alike." + </p> + <p> + There is one movement, among those that James mentions at first, which is + not subsequently classified, namely, the stumbling. This is the kind of + movement which may be called "mechanical"; it is evidently of a different + kind from either reflex or voluntary movements, and more akin to the + movements of dead matter. We may define a movement of an animal's body as + "mechanical" when it proceeds as if only dead matter were involved. For + example, if you fall over a cliff, you move under the influence of + gravitation, and your centre of gravity describes just as correct a + parabola as if you were already dead. Mechanical movements have not the + characteristic of appropriateness, unless by accident, as when a drunken + man falls into a waterbutt and is sobered. But reflex and voluntary + movements are not ALWAYS appropriate, unless in some very recondite sense. + A moth flying into a lamp is not acting sensibly; no more is a man who is + in such a hurry to get his ticket that he cannot remember the name of his + destination. Appropriateness is a complicated and merely approximate idea, + and for the present we shall do well to dismiss it from our thoughts. + </p> + <p> + As James states, there is no difference, from the point of view of the + outside observer, between voluntary and reflex movements. The physiologist + can discover that both depend upon the nervous system, and he may find + that the movements which we call voluntary depend upon higher centres in + the brain than those that are reflex. But he cannot discover anything as + to the presence or absence of "will" or "consciousness," for these things + can only be seen from within, if at all. For the present, we wish to place + ourselves resolutely in the position of outside observers; we will + therefore ignore the distinction between voluntary and reflex movements. + We will call the two together "vital" movements. We may then distinguish + "vital" from mechanical movements by the fact that vital movements depend + for their causation upon the special properties of the nervous system, + while mechanical movements depend only upon the properties which animal + bodies share with matter in general. + </p> + <p> + There is need for some care if the distinction between mechanical and + vital movements is to be made precise. It is quite likely that, if we knew + more about animal bodies, we could deduce all their movements from the + laws of chemistry and physics. It is already fairly easy to see how + chemistry reduces to physics, i.e. how the differences between different + chemical elements can be accounted for by differences of physical + structure, the constituents of the structure being electrons which are + exactly alike in all kinds of matter. We only know in part how to reduce + physiology to chemistry, but we know enough to make it likely that the + reduction is possible. If we suppose it effected, what would become of the + difference between vital and mechanical movements? + </p> + <p> + Some analogies will make the difference clear. A shock to a mass of + dynamite produces quite different effects from an equal shock to a mass of + steel: in the one case there is a vast explosion, while in the other case + there is hardly any noticeable disturbance. Similarly, you may sometimes + find on a mountain-side a large rock poised so delicately that a touch + will set it crashing down into the valley, while the rocks all round are + so firm that only a considerable force can dislodge them What is analogous + in these two cases is the existence of a great store of energy in unstable + equilibrium ready to burst into violent motion by the addition of a very + slight disturbance. Similarly, it requires only a very slight expenditure + of energy to send a post-card with the words "All is discovered; fly!" but + the effect in generating kinetic energy is said to be amazing. A human + body, like a mass of dynamite, contains a store of energy in unstable + equilibrium, ready to be directed in this direction or that by a + disturbance which is physically very small, such as a spoken word. In all + such cases the reduction of behaviour to physical laws can only be + effected by entering into great minuteness; so long as we confine + ourselves to the observation of comparatively large masses, the way in + which the equilibrium will be upset cannot be determined. Physicists + distinguish between macroscopic and microscopic equations: the former + determine the visible movements of bodies of ordinary size, the latter the + minute occurrences in the smallest parts. It is only the microscopic + equations that are supposed to be the same for all sorts of matter. The + macroscopic equations result from a process of averaging out, and may be + different in different cases. So, in our instance, the laws of macroscopic + phenomena are different for mechanical and vital movements, though the + laws of microscopic phenomena may be the same. + </p> + <p> + We may say, speaking somewhat roughly, that a stimulus applied to the + nervous system, like a spark to dynamite, is able to take advantage of the + stored energy in unstable equilibrium, and thus to produce movements out + of proportion to the proximate cause. Movements produced in this way are + vital movements, while mechanical movements are those in which the stored + energy of a living body is not involved. Similarly dynamite may be + exploded, thereby displaying its characteristic properties, or may (with + due precautions) be carted about like any other mineral. The explosion is + analogous to vital movements, the carting about to mechanical movements. + </p> + <p> + Mechanical movements are of no interest to the psychologist, and it has + only been necessary to define them in order to be able to exclude them. + When a psychologist studies behaviour, it is only vital movements that + concern him. We shall, therefore, proceed to ignore mechanical movements, + and study only the properties of the remainder. + </p> + <p> + The next point is to distinguish between movements that are instinctive + and movements that are acquired by experience. This distinction also is to + some extent one of degree. Professor Lloyd Morgan gives the following + definition of "instinctive behaviour": + </p> + <p> + "That which is, on its first occurrence, independent of prior experience; + which tends to the well-being of the individual and the preservation of + the race; which is similarly performed by all members of the same more or + less restricted group of animals; and which may be subject to subsequent + modification under the guidance of experience." * + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * "Instinct and Experience" (Methuen, 1912) p. 5. +</pre> + <p> + This definition is framed for the purposes of biology, and is in some + respects unsuited to the needs of psychology. Though perhaps unavoidable, + allusion to "the same more or less restricted group of animals" makes it + impossible to judge what is instinctive in the behaviour of an isolated + individual. Moreover, "the well-being of the individual and the + preservation of the race" is only a usual characteristic, not a universal + one, of the sort of movements that, from our point of view, are to be + called instinctive; instances of harmful instincts will be given shortly. + The essential point of the definition, from our point of view, is that an + instinctive movement is in dependent of prior experience. + </p> + <p> + We may say that an "instinctive" movement is a vital movement performed by + an animal the first time that it finds itself in a novel situation; or, + more correctly, one which it would perform if the situation were novel.* + The instincts of an animal are different at different periods of its + growth, and this fact may cause changes of behaviour which are not due to + learning. The maturing and seasonal fluctuation of the sex-instinct + affords a good illustration. When the sex-instinct first matures, the + behaviour of an animal in the presence of a mate is different from its + previous behaviour in similar circumstances, but is not learnt, since it + is just the same if the animal has never previously been in the presence + of a mate. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * Though this can only be decided by comparison with other + members of the species, and thus exposes us to the need of + comparison which we thought an objection to Professor Lloyd + Morgan's definition. +</pre> + <p> + On the other hand, a movement is "learnt," or embodies a "habit," if it is + due to previous experience of similar situations, and is not what it would + be if the animal had had no such experience. + </p> + <p> + There are various complications which blur the sharpness of this + distinction in practice. To begin with, many instincts mature gradually, + and while they are immature an animal may act in a fumbling manner which + is very difficult to distinguish from learning. James ("Psychology," ii, + 407) maintains that children walk by instinct, and that the awkwardness of + their first attempts is only due to the fact that the instinct has not yet + ripened. He hopes that "some scientific widower, left alone with his + offspring at the critical moment, may ere long test this suggestion on the + living subject." However this may be, he quotes evidence to show that + "birds do not LEARN to fly," but fly by instinct when they reach the + appropriate age (ib., p. 406). In the second place, instinct often gives + only a rough outline of the sort of thing to do, in which case learning is + necessary in order to acquire certainty and precision in action. In the + third place, even in the clearest cases of acquired habit, such as + speaking, some instinct is required to set in motion the process of + learning. In the case of speaking, the chief instinct involved is commonly + supposed to be that of imitation, but this may be questioned. (See + Thorndike's "Animal Intelligence," p. 253 ff.) + </p> + <p> + In spite of these qualifications, the broad distinction between instinct + and habit is undeniable. To take extreme cases, every animal at birth can + take food by instinct, before it has had opportunity to learn; on the + other hand, no one can ride a bicycle by instinct, though, after learning, + the necessary movements become just as automatic as if they were + instinctive. + </p> + <p> + The process of learning, which consists in the acquisition of habits, has + been much studied in various animals.* For example: you put a hungry + animal, say a cat, in a cage which has a door that can be opened by + lifting a latch; outside the cage you put food. The cat at first dashes + all round the cage, making frantic efforts to force a way out. At last, by + accident, the latch is lifted and the cat pounces on the food. Next day + you repeat the experiment, and you find that the cat gets out much more + quickly than the first time, although it still makes some random + movements. The third day it gets out still more quickly, and before long + it goes straight to the latch and lifts it at once. Or you make a model of + the Hampton Court maze, and put a rat in the middle, assaulted by the + smell of food on the outside. The rat starts running down the passages, + and is constantly stopped by blind alleys, but at last, by persistent + attempts, it gets out. You repeat this experiment day after day; you + measure the time taken by the rat in reaching the food; you find that the + time rapidly diminishes, and that after a while the rat ceases to make any + wrong turnings. It is by essentially similar processes that we learn + speaking, writing, mathematics, or the government of an empire. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * The scientific study of this subject may almost be said to + begin with Thorndike's "Animal Intelligence" (Macmillan, + 1911). +</pre> + <p> + Professor Watson ("Behavior," pp. 262-3) has an ingenious theory as to the + way in which habit arises out of random movements. I think there is a + reason why his theory cannot be regarded as alone sufficient, but it seems + not unlikely that it is partly correct. Suppose, for the sake of + simplicity, that there are just ten random movements which may be made by + the animal—say, ten paths down which it may go—and that only + one of these leads to food, or whatever else represents success in the + case in question. Then the successful movement always occurs during the + animal's attempts, whereas each of the others, on the average, occurs in + only half the attempts. Thus the tendency to repeat a previous performance + (which is easily explicable without the intervention of "consciousness") + leads to a greater emphasis on the successful movement than on any other, + and in time causes it alone to be performed. The objection to this view, + if taken as the sole explanation, is that on improvement ought to set in + till after the SECOND trial, whereas experiment shows that already at the + second attempt the animal does better than the first time. Something + further is, therefore, required to account for the genesis of habit from + random movements; but I see no reason to suppose that what is further + required involves "consciousness." + </p> + <p> + Mr. Thorndike (op. cit., p. 244) formulates two "provisional laws of + acquired behaviour or learning," as follows: + </p> + <p> + "The Law of Effect is that: Of several responses made to the same + situation, those which are accompanied or closely followed by satisfaction + to the animal will, other things being equal, be more firmly connected + with the situation, so that, when it recurs, they will be more likely to + recur; those which are accompanied or closely followed by discomfort to + the animal will, other things being equal, have their connections with + that situation weakened, so that, when it recurs, they will be less likely + to occur. The greater the satisfaction or discomfort, the greater the + strengthening or weakening of the bond. + </p> + <p> + "The Law of Exercise is that: Any response to a situation will, other + things being equal, be more strongly connected with the situation in + proportion to the number of times it has been connected with that + situation and to the average vigour and duration of the connections." + </p> + <p> + With the explanation to be presently given of the meaning of + "satisfaction" and "discomfort," there seems every reason to accept these + two laws. + </p> + <p> + What is true of animals, as regards instinct and habit, is equally true of + men. But the higher we rise in the evolutionary scale, broadly speaking, + the greater becomes the power of learning, and the fewer are the occasions + when pure instinct is exhibited unmodified in adult life. This applies + with great force to man, so much so that some have thought instinct less + important in the life of man than in that of animals. This, however, would + be a mistake. Learning is only possible when instinct supplies the + driving-force. The animals in cages, which gradually learn to get out, + perform random movements at first, which are purely instinctive. But for + these random movements, they would never acquire the experience which + afterwards enables them to produce the right movement. (This is partly + questioned by Hobhouse*—wrongly, I think.) Similarly, children + learning to talk make all sorts of sounds, until one day the right sound + comes by accident. It is clear that the original making of random sounds, + without which speech would never be learnt, is instinctive. I think we may + say the same of all the habits and aptitudes that we acquire in all of + them there has been present throughout some instinctive activity, + prompting at first rather inefficient movements, but supplying the driving + force while more and more effective methods are being acquired. A cat + which is hungry smells fish, and goes to the larder. This is a thoroughly + efficient method when there is fish in the larder, and it is often + successfully practised by children. But in later life it is found that + merely going to the larder does not cause fish to be there; after a series + of random movements it is found that this result is to be caused by going + to the City in the morning and coming back in the evening. No one would + have guessed a priori that this movement of a middle-aged man's body would + cause fish to come out of the sea into his larder, but experience shows + that it does, and the middle-aged man therefore continues to go to the + City, just as the cat in the cage continues to lift the latch when it has + once found it. Of course, in actual fact, human learning is rendered + easier, though psychologically more complex, through language; but at + bottom language does not alter the essential character of learning, or of + the part played by instinct in promoting learning. Language, however, is a + subject upon which I do not wish to speak until a later lecture. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * "Mind in Evolution" (Macmillan, 1915), pp. 236-237. +</pre> + <p> + The popular conception of instinct errs by imagining it to be infallible + and preternaturally wise, as well as incapable of modification. This is a + complete delusion. Instinct, as a rule, is very rough and ready, able to + achieve its result under ordinary circumstances, but easily misled by + anything unusual. Chicks follow their mother by instinct, but when they + are quite young they will follow with equal readiness any moving object + remotely resembling their mother, or even a human being (James, + "Psychology," ii, 396). Bergson, quoting Fabre, has made play with the + supposed extraordinary accuracy of the solitary wasp Ammophila, which lays + its eggs in a caterpillar. On this subject I will quote from Drever's + "Instinct in Man," p. 92: + </p> + <p> + "According to Fabre's observations, which Bergson accepts, the Ammophila + stings its prey EXACTLY and UNERRINGLY in EACH of the nervous centres. The + result is that the caterpillar is paralyzed, but not immediately killed, + the advantage of this being that the larva cannot be injured by any + movement of the caterpillar, upon which the egg is deposited, and is + provided with fresh meat when the time comes. + </p> + <p> + "Now Dr. and Mrs. Peckham have shown that the sting of the wasp is NOT + UNERRING, as Fabre alleges, that the number of stings is NOT CONSTANT, + that sometimes the caterpillar is NOT PARALYZED, and sometimes it is + KILLED OUTRIGHT, and that THE DIFFERENT CIRCUMSTANCES DO NOT APPARENTLY + MAKE ANY DIFFERENCE TO THE LARVA, which is not injured by slight movements + of the caterpillar, nor by consuming food decomposed rather than fresh + caterpillar." + </p> + <p> + This illustrates how love of the marvellous may mislead even so careful an + observer as Fabre and so eminent a philosopher as Bergson. + </p> + <p> + In the same chapter of Dr. Drever's book there are some interesting + examples of the mistakes made by instinct. I will quote one as a sample: + </p> + <p> + "The larva of the Lomechusa beetle eats the young of the ants, in whose + nest it is reared. Nevertheless, the ants tend the Lomechusa larvae with + the same care they bestow on their own young. Not only so, but they + apparently discover that the methods of feeding, which suit their own + larvae, would prove fatal to the guests, and accordingly they change their + whole system of nursing" (loc. cit., p. 106). + </p> + <p> + Semon ("Die Mneme," pp. 207-9) gives a good illustration of an instinct + growing wiser through experience. He relates how hunters attract stags by + imitating the sounds of other members of their species, male or female, + but find that the older a stag becomes the more difficult it is to deceive + him, and the more accurate the imitation has to be. The literature of + instinct is vast, and illustrations might be multiplied indefinitely. The + main points as regards instinct, which need to be emphasized as against + the popular conceptions of it, are: + </p> + <p> + (1) That instinct requires no prevision of the biological end which it + serves; + </p> + <p> + (2) That instinct is only adapted to achieve this end in the usual + circumstances of the animal in question, and has no more precision than is + necessary for success AS A RULE; + </p> + <p> + (3) That processes initiated by instinct often come to be performed better + after experience; + </p> + <p> + (4) That instinct supplies the impulses to experimental movements which + are required for the process of learning; + </p> + <p> + (5) That instincts in their nascent stages are easily modifiable, and + capable of being attached to various sorts of objects. + </p> + <p> + All the above characteristics of instinct can be established by purely + external observation, except the fact that instinct does not require + prevision. This, though not strictly capable of being PROVED by + observation, is irresistibly suggested by the most obvious phenomena. Who + can believe, for example, that a new-born baby is aware of the necessity + of food for preserving life? Or that insects, in laying eggs, are + concerned for the preservation of their species? The essence of instinct, + one might say, is that it provides a mechanism for acting without + foresight in a manner which is usually advantageous biologically. It is + partly for this reason that it is so important to understand the + fundamental position of instinct in prompting both animal and human + behaviour. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LECTURE III. DESIRE AND FEELING + </h2> + <p> + Desire is a subject upon which, if I am not mistaken, true views can only + be arrived at by an almost complete reversal of the ordinary unreflecting + opinion. It is natural to regard desire as in its essence an attitude + towards something which is imagined, not actual; this something is called + the END or OBJECT of the desire, and is said to be the PURPOSE of any + action resulting from the desire. We think of the content of the desire as + being just like the content of a belief, while the attitude taken up + towards the content is different. According to this theory, when we say: + "I hope it will rain," or "I expect it will rain," we express, in the + first case, a desire, and in the second, a belief, with an identical + content, namely, the image of rain. It would be easy to say that, just as + belief is one kind of feeling in relation to this content, so desire is + another kind. According to this view, what comes first in desire is + something imagined, with a specific feeling related to it, namely, that + specific feeling which we call "desiring" it. The discomfort associated + with unsatisfied desire, and the actions which aim at satisfying desire, + are, in this view, both of them effects of the desire. I think it is fair + to say that this is a view against which common sense would not rebel; + nevertheless, I believe it to be radically mistaken. It cannot be refuted + logically, but various facts can be adduced which make it gradually less + simple and plausible, until at last it turns out to be easier to abandon + it wholly and look at the matter in a totally different way. + </p> + <p> + The first set of facts to be adduced against the common sense view of + desire are those studied by psycho-analysis. In all human beings, but most + markedly in those suffering from hysteria and certain forms of insanity, + we find what are called "unconscious" desires, which are commonly regarded + as showing self-deception. Most psycho-analysts pay little attention to + the analysis of desire, being interested in discovering by observation + what it is that people desire, rather than in discovering what actually + constitutes desire. I think the strangeness of what they report would be + greatly diminished if it were expressed in the language of a behaviourist + theory of desire, rather than in the language of every-day beliefs. The + general description of the sort of phenomena that bear on our present + question is as follows: A person states that his desires are so-and-so, + and that it is these desires that inspire his actions; but the outside + observer perceives that his actions are such as to realize quite different + ends from those which he avows, and that these different ends are such as + he might be expected to desire. Generally they are less virtuous than his + professed desires, and are therefore less agreeable to profess than these + are. It is accordingly supposed that they really exist as desires for + ends, but in a subconscious part of the mind, which the patient refuses to + admit into consciousness for fear of having to think ill of himself. There + are no doubt many cases to which such a supposition is applicable without + obvious artificiality. But the deeper the Freudians delve into the + underground regions of instinct, the further they travel from anything + resembling conscious desire, and the less possible it becomes to believe + that only positive self-deception conceals from us that we really wish for + things which are abhorrent to our explicit life. + </p> + <p> + In the cases in question we have a conflict between the outside observer + and the patient's consciousness. The whole tendency of psycho-analysis is + to trust the outside observer rather than the testimony of introspection. + I believe this tendency to be entirely right, but to demand a re-statement + of what constitutes desire, exhibiting it as a causal law of our actions, + not as something actually existing in our minds. + </p> + <p> + But let us first get a clearer statement of the essential characteristic + of the phenomena. + </p> + <p> + A person, we find, states that he desires a certain end A, and that he is + acting with a view to achieving it. We observe, however, that his actions + are such as are likely to achieve a quite different end B, and that B is + the sort of end that often seems to be aimed at by animals and savages, + though civilized people are supposed to have discarded it. We sometimes + find also a whole set of false beliefs, of such a kind as to persuade the + patient that his actions are really a means to A, when in fact they are a + means to B. For example, we have an impulse to inflict pain upon those + whom we hate; we therefore believe that they are wicked, and that + punishment will reform them. This belief enables us to act upon the + impulse to inflict pain, while believing that we are acting upon the + desire to lead sinners to repentance. It is for this reason that the + criminal law has been in all ages more severe than it would have been if + the impulse to ameliorate the criminal had been what really inspired it. + It seems simple to explain such a state of affairs as due to + "self-deception," but this explanation is often mythical. Most people, in + thinking about punishment, have had no more need to hide their vindictive + impulses from themselves than they have had to hide the exponential + theorem. Our impulses are not patent to a casual observation, but are only + to be discovered by a scientific study of our actions, in the course of + which we must regard ourselves as objectively as we should the motions of + the planets or the chemical reactions of a new element. + </p> + <p> + The study of animals reinforces this conclusion, and is in many ways the + best preparation for the analysis of desire. In animals we are not + troubled by the disturbing influence of ethical considerations. In dealing + with human beings, we are perpetually distracted by being told that + such-and-such a view is gloomy or cynical or pessimistic: ages of human + conceit have built up such a vast myth as to our wisdom and virtue that + any intrusion of the mere scientific desire to know the facts is instantly + resented by those who cling to comfortable illusions. But no one cares + whether animals are virtuous or not, and no one is under the delusion that + they are rational. Moreover, we do not expect them to be so "conscious," + and are prepared to admit that their instincts prompt useful actions + without any prevision of the ends which they achieve. For all these + reasons, there is much in the analysis of mind which is more easily + discovered by the study of animals than by the observation of human + beings. + </p> + <p> + We all think that, by watching the behaviour of animals, we can discover + more or less what they desire. If this is the case—and I fully agree + that it is—desire must be capable of being exhibited in actions, for + it is only the actions of animals that we can observe. They MAY have minds + in which all sorts of things take place, but we can know nothing about + their minds except by means of inferences from their actions; and the more + such inferences are examined, the more dubious they appear. It would seem, + therefore, that actions alone must be the test of the desires of animals. + From this it is an easy step to the conclusion that an animal's desire is + nothing but a characteristic of a certain series of actions, namely, those + which would be commonly regarded as inspired by the desire in question. + And when it has been shown that this view affords a satisfactory account + of animal desires, it is not difficult to see that the same explanation is + applicable to the desires of human beings. + </p> + <p> + We judge easily from the behaviour of an animal of a familiar kind whether + it is hungry or thirsty, or pleased or displeased, or inquisitive or + terrified. The verification of our judgment, so far as verification is + possible, must be derived from the immediately succeeding actions of the + animal. Most people would say that they infer first something about the + animal's state of mind—whether it is hungry or thirsty and so on—and + thence derive their expectations as to its subsequent conduct. But this + detour through the animal's supposed mind is wholly unnecessary. We can + say simply: The animal's behaviour during the last minute has had those + characteristics which distinguish what is called "hunger," and it is + likely that its actions during the next minute will be similar in this + respect, unless it finds food, or is interrupted by a stronger impulse, + such as fear. An animal which is hungry is restless, it goes to the places + where food is often to be found, it sniffs with its nose or peers with its + eyes or otherwise increases the sensitiveness of its sense-organs; as soon + as it is near enough to food for its sense-organs to be affected, it goes + to it with all speed and proceeds to eat; after which, if the quantity of + food has been sufficient, its whole demeanour changes it may very likely + lie down and go to sleep. These things and others like them are observable + phenomena distinguishing a hungry animal from one which is not hungry. The + characteristic mark by which we recognize a series of actions which + display hunger is not the animal's mental state, which we cannot observe, + but something in its bodily behaviour; it is this observable trait in the + bodily behaviour that I am proposing to call "hunger," not some possibly + mythical and certainly unknowable ingredient of the animal's mind. + </p> + <p> + Generalizing what occurs in the case of hunger, we may say that what we + call a desire in an animal is always displayed in a cycle of actions + having certain fairly well marked characteristics. There is first a state + of activity, consisting, with qualifications to be mentioned presently, of + movements likely to have a certain result; these movements, unless + interrupted, continue until the result is achieved, after which there is + usually a period of comparative quiescence. A cycle of actions of this + sort has marks by which it is broadly distinguished from the motions of + dead matter. The most notable of these marks are—(1) the + appropriateness of the actions for the realization of a certain result; + (2) the continuance of action until that result has been achieved. Neither + of these can be pressed beyond a point. Either may be (a) to some extent + present in dead matter, and (b) to a considerable extent absent in + animals, while vegetable are intermediate, and display only a much fainter + form of the behaviour which leads us to attribute desire to animals. (a) + One might say rivers "desire" the sea water, roughly speaking, remains in + restless motion until it reaches either the sea or a place from which it + cannot issue without going uphill, and therefore we might say that this is + what it wishes while it is flowing. We do not say so, because we can + account for the behaviour of water by the laws of physics; and if we knew + more about animals, we might equally cease to attribute desires to them, + since we might find physical and chemical reactions sufficient to account + for their behaviour. (b) Many of the movements of animals do not exhibit + the characteristics of the cycles which seem to embody desire. There are + first of all the movements which are "mechanical," such as slipping and + falling, where ordinary physical forces operate upon the animal's body + almost as if it were dead matter. An animal which falls over a cliff may + make a number of desperate struggles while it is in the air, but its + centre of gravity will move exactly as it would if the animal were dead. + In this case, if the animal is killed at the end of the fall, we have, at + first sight, just the characteristics of a cycle of actions embodying + desire, namely, restless movement until the ground is reached, and then + quiescence. Nevertheless, we feel no temptation to say that the animal + desired what occurred, partly because of the obviously mechanical nature + of the whole occurrence, partly because, when an animal survives a fall, + it tends not to repeat the experience. + </p> + <p> + There may be other reasons also, but of them I do not wish to speak yet. + Besides mechanical movements, there are interrupted movements, as when a + bird, on its way to eat your best peas, is frightened away by the boy whom + you are employing for that purpose. If interruptions are frequent and + completion of cycles rare, the characteristics by which cycles are + observed may become so blurred as to be almost unrecognizable. The result + of these various considerations is that the differences between animals + and dead matter, when we confine ourselves to external unscientific + observation of integral behaviour, are a matter of degree and not very + precise. It is for this reason that it has always been possible for + fanciful people to maintain that even stocks and stones have some vague + kind of soul. The evidence that animals have souls is so very shaky that, + if it is assumed to be conclusive, one might just as well go a step + further and extend the argument by analogy to all matter. Nevertheless, in + spite of vagueness and doubtful cases, the existence of cycles in the + behaviour of animals is a broad characteristic by which they are prima + facie distinguished from ordinary matter; and I think it is this + characteristic which leads us to attribute desires to animals, since it + makes their behaviour resemble what we do when (as we say) we are acting + from desire. + </p> + <p> + I shall adopt the following definitions for describing the behaviour of + animals: + </p> + <p> + A "behaviour-cycle" is a series of voluntary or reflex movements of an + animal, tending to cause a certain result, and continuing until that + result is caused, unless they are interrupted by death, accident, or some + new behaviour-cycle. (Here "accident" may be defined as the intervention + of purely physical laws causing mechanical movements.) + </p> + <p> + The "purpose" of a behaviour-cycle is the result which brings it to an + end, normally by a condition of temporary quiescence-provided there is no + interruption. + </p> + <p> + An animal is said to "desire" the purpose of a behaviour cycle while the + behaviour-cycle is in progress. + </p> + <p> + I believe these definitions to be adequate also to human purposes and + desires, but for the present I am only occupied with animals and with what + can be learnt by external observation. I am very anxious that no ideas + should be attached to the words "purpose" and "desire" beyond those + involved in the above definitions. + </p> + <p> + We have not so far considered what is the nature of the initial stimulus + to a behaviour-cycle. Yet it is here that the usual view of desire seems + on the strongest ground. The hungry animal goes on making movements until + it gets food; it seems natural, therefore, to suppose that the idea of + food is present throughout the process, and that the thought of the end to + be achieved sets the whole process in motion. Such a view, however, is + obviously untenable in many cases, especially where instinct is concerned. + Take, for example, reproduction and the rearing of the young. Birds mate, + build a nest, lay eggs in it, sit on the eggs, feed the young birds, and + care for them until they are fully grown. It is totally impossible to + suppose that this series of actions, which constitutes one + behaviour-cycle, is inspired by any prevision of the end, at any rate the + first time it is performed.* We must suppose that the stimulus to the + performance of each act is an impulsion from behind, not an attraction + from the future. The bird does what it does, at each stage, because it has + an impulse to that particular action, not because it perceives that the + whole cycle of actions will contribute to the preservation of the species. + The same considerations apply to other instincts. A hungry animal feels + restless, and is led by instinctive impulses to perform the movements + which give it nourishment; but the act of seeking food is not sufficient + evidence from which to conclude that the animal has the thought of food in + its "mind." + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * For evidence as to birds' nests, cf. Semon, "Die Mneme," + pp. 209, 210. +</pre> + <p> + Coming now to human beings, and to what we know about our own actions, it + seems clear that what, with us, sets a behaviour-cycle in motion is some + sensation of the sort which we call disagreeable. Take the case of hunger: + we have first an uncomfortable feeling inside, producing a disinclination + to sit still, a sensitiveness to savoury smells, and an attraction towards + any food that there may be in our neighbourhood. At any moment during this + process we may become aware that we are hungry, in the sense of saying to + ourselves, "I am hungry"; but we may have been acting with reference to + food for some time before this moment. While we are talking or reading, we + may eat in complete unconsciousness; but we perform the actions of eating + just as we should if we were conscious, and they cease when our hunger is + appeased. What we call "consciousness" seems to be a mere spectator of the + process; even when it issues orders, they are usually, like those of a + wise parent, just such as would have been obeyed even if they had not been + given. This view may seem at first exaggerated, but the more our so-called + volitions and their causes are examined, the more it is forced upon us. + The part played by words in all this is complicated, and a potent source + of confusions; I shall return to it later. For the present, I am still + concerned with primitive desire, as it exists in man, but in the form in + which man shows his affinity to his animal ancestors. + </p> + <p> + Conscious desire is made up partly of what is essential to desire, partly + of beliefs as to what we want. It is important to be clear as to the part + which does not consist of beliefs. + </p> + <p> + The primitive non-cognitive element in desire seems to be a push, not a + pull, an impulsion away from the actual, rather than an attraction towards + the ideal. Certain sensations and other mental occurrences have a property + which we call discomfort; these cause such bodily movements as are likely + to lead to their cessation. When the discomfort ceases, or even when it + appreciably diminishes, we have sensations possessing a property which we + call PLEASURE. Pleasurable sensations either stimulate no action at all, + or at most stimulate such action as is likely to prolong them. I shall + return shortly to the consideration of what discomfort and pleasure are in + themselves; for the present, it is their connection with action and desire + that concerns us. Abandoning momentarily the standpoint of behaviourism, + we may presume that hungry animals experience sensations involving + discomfort, and stimulating such movements as seem likely to bring them to + the food which is outside the cages. When they have reached the food and + eaten it, their discomfort ceases and their sensations become pleasurable. + It SEEMS, mistakenly, as if the animals had had this situation in mind + throughout, when in fact they have been continually pushed by discomfort. + And when an animal is reflective, like some men, it comes to think that it + had the final situation in mind throughout; sometimes it comes to know + what situation will bring satisfaction, so that in fact the discomfort + does bring the thought of what will allay it. Nevertheless the sensation + involving discomfort remains the prime mover. + </p> + <p> + This brings us to the question of the nature of discomfort and pleasure. + Since Kant it has been customary to recognize three great divisions of + mental phenomena, which are typified by knowledge, desire and feeling, + where "feeling" is used to mean pleasure and discomfort. Of course, + "knowledge" is too definite a word: the states of mind concerned are + grouped together as "cognitive," and are to embrace not only beliefs, but + perceptions, doubts, and the understanding of concepts. "Desire," also, is + narrower than what is intended: for example, WILL is to be included in + this category, and in fact every thing that involves any kind of striving, + or "conation" as it is technically called. I do not myself believe that + there is any value in this threefold division of the contents of mind. I + believe that sensations (including images) supply all the "stuff" of the + mind, and that everything else can be analysed into groups of sensations + related in various ways, or characteristics of sensations or of groups of + sensations. As regards belief, I shall give grounds for this view in later + lectures. As regards desires, I have given some grounds in this lecture. + For the present, it is pleasure and discomfort that concern us. There are + broadly three theories that might be held in regard to them. We may regard + them as separate existing items in those who experience them, or we may + regard them as intrinsic qualities of sensations and other mental + occurrences, or we may regard them as mere names for the causal + characteristics of the occurrences which are uncomfortable or pleasant. + The first of these theories, namely, that which regards discomfort and + pleasure as actual contents in those who experience them, has, I think, + nothing conclusive to be said in its favour.* It is suggested chiefly by + an ambiguity in the word "pain," which has misled many people, including + Berkeley, whom it supplied with one of his arguments for subjective + idealism. We may use "pain" as the opposite of "pleasure," and "painful" + as the opposite of "pleasant," or we may use "pain" to mean a certain sort + of sensation, on a level with the sensations of heat and cold and touch. + The latter use of the word has prevailed in psychological literature, and + it is now no longer used as the opposite of "pleasure." Dr. H. Head, in a + recent publication, has stated this distinction as follows:** + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * Various arguments in its favour are advanced by A. + Wohlgemuth, "On the feelings and their neural correlate, + with an examination of the nature of pain," "British Journal + of Psychology," viii, 4. (1917). But as these arguments are + largely a reductio ad absurdum of other theories, among + which that which I am advocating is not included, I cannot + regard them as establishing their contention. + + ** "Sensation and the Cerebral Cortex," "Brain," vol. xli, + part ii (September, 1918), p. 90. Cf. also Wohlgemuth, loc. + cit. pp. 437, 450. +</pre> + <p> + "It is necessary at the outset to distinguish clearly between 'discomfort' + and 'pain.' Pain is a distinct sensory quality equivalent to heat and + cold, and its intensity can be roughly graded according to the force + expended in stimulation. Discomfort, on the other hand, is that + feeling-tone which is directly opposed to pleasure. It may accompany + sensations not in themselves essentially painful; as for instance that + produced by tickling the sole of the foot. The reaction produced by + repeated pricking contains both these elements; for it evokes that sensory + quality known as pain, accompanied by a disagreeable feeling-tone, which + we have called discomfort. On the other hand, excessive pressure, except + when applied directly over some nerve-trunk, tends to excite more + discomfort than pain." + </p> + <p> + The confusion between discomfort and pain has made people regard + discomfort as a more substantial thing than it is, and this in turn has + reacted upon the view taken of pleasure, since discomfort and pleasure are + evidently on a level in this respect. As soon as discomfort is clearly + distinguished from the sensation of pain, it becomes more natural to + regard discomfort and pleasure as properties of mental occurrences than to + regard them as separate mental occurrences on their own account. I shall + therefore dismiss the view that they are separate mental occurrences, and + regard them as properties of such experiences as would be called + respectively uncomfortable and pleasant. + </p> + <p> + It remains to be examined whether they are actual qualities of such + occurrences, or are merely differences as to causal properties. I do not + myself see any way of deciding this question; either view seems equally + capable of accounting for the facts. If this is true, it is safer to avoid + the assumption that there are such intrinsic qualities of mental + occurrences as are in question, and to assume only the causal differences + which are undeniable. Without condemning the intrinsic theory, we can + define discomfort and pleasure as consisting in causal properties, and say + only what will hold on either of the two theories. Following this course, + we shall say: + </p> + <p> + "Discomfort" is a property of a sensation or other mental occurrence, + consisting in the fact that the occurrence in question stimulates + voluntary or reflex movements tending to produce some more or less + definite change involving the cessation of the occurrence. + </p> + <p> + "Pleasure" is a property of a sensation or other mental occurrence, + consisting in the fact that the occurrence in question either does not + stimulate any voluntary or reflex movement, or, if it does, stimulates + only such as tend to prolong the occurrence in question.* + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * Cf. Thorndike, op. cit., p. 243. +</pre> + <p> + "Conscious" desire, which we have now to consider, consists of desire in + the sense hitherto discussed, together with a true belief as to its + "purpose," i.e. as to the state of affairs that will bring quiescence with + cessation of the discomfort. If our theory of desire is correct, a belief + as to its purpose may very well be erroneous, since only experience can + show what causes a discomfort to cease. When the experience needed is + common and simple, as in the case of hunger, a mistake is not very + probable. But in other cases—e.g. erotic desire in those who have + had little or no experience of its satisfaction—mistakes are to be + expected, and do in fact very often occur. The practice of inhibiting + impulses, which is to a great extent necessary to civilized life, makes + mistakes easier, by preventing experience of the actions to which a desire + would otherwise lead, and by often causing the inhibited impulses + themselves to be unnoticed or quickly forgotten. The perfectly natural + mistakes which thus arise constitute a large proportion of what is, + mistakenly in part, called self-deception, and attributed by Freud to the + "censor." + </p> + <p> + But there is a further point which needs emphasizing, namely, that a + belief that something is desired has often a tendency to cause the very + desire that is believed in. It is this fact that makes the effect of + "consciousness" on desire so complicated. + </p> + <p> + When we believe that we desire a certain state of affairs, that often + tends to cause a real desire for it. This is due partly to the influence + of words upon our emotions, in rhetoric for example, and partly to the + general fact that discomfort normally belongs to the belief that we desire + such-and-such a thing that we do not possess. Thus what was originally a + false opinion as to the object of a desire acquires a certain truth: the + false opinion generates a secondary subsidiary desire, which nevertheless + becomes real. Let us take an illustration. Suppose you have been jilted in + a way which wounds your vanity. Your natural impulsive desire will be of + the sort expressed in Donne's poem: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + When by thy scorn, O Murderess, I am dead, +</pre> + <p> + in which he explains how he will haunt the poor lady as a ghost, and + prevent her from enjoying a moment's peace. But two things stand in the + way of your expressing yourself so naturally: on the one hand, your + vanity, which will not acknowledge how hard you are hit; on the other + hand, your conviction that you are a civilized and humane person, who + could not possibly indulge so crude a desire as revenge. You will + therefore experience a restlessness which will at first seem quite + aimless, but will finally resolve itself in a conscious desire to change + your profession, or go round the world, or conceal your identity and live + in Putney, like Arnold Bennett's hero. Although the prime cause of this + desire is a false judgment as to your previous unconscious desire, yet the + new conscious desire has its own derivative genuineness, and may influence + your actions to the extent of sending you round the world. The initial + mistake, however, will have effects of two kinds. First, in uncontrolled + moments, under the influence of sleepiness or drink or delirium, you will + say things calculated to injure the faithless deceiver. Secondly, you will + find travel disappointing, and the East less fascinating than you had + hoped—unless, some day, you hear that the wicked one has in turn + been jilted. If this happens, you will believe that you feel sincere + sympathy, but you will suddenly be much more delighted than before with + the beauties of tropical islands or the wonders of Chinese art. A + secondary desire, derived from a false judgment as to a primary desire, + has its own power of influencing action, and is therefore a real desire + according to our definition. But it has not the same power as a primary + desire of bringing thorough satisfaction when it is realized; so long as + the primary desire remains unsatisfied, restlessness continues in spite of + the secondary desire's success. Hence arises a belief in the vanity of + human wishes: the vain wishes are those that are secondary, but mistaken + beliefs prevent us from realizing that they are secondary. + </p> + <p> + What may, with some propriety, be called self-deception arises through the + operation of desires for beliefs. We desire many things which it is not in + our power to achieve: that we should be universally popular and admired, + that our work should be the wonder of the age, and that the universe + should be so ordered as to bring ultimate happiness to all, though not to + our enemies until they have repented and been purified by suffering. Such + desires are too large to be achieved through our own efforts. But it is + found that a considerable portion of the satisfaction which these things + would bring us if they were realized is to be achieved by the much easier + operation of believing that they are or will be realized. This desire for + beliefs, as opposed to desire for the actual facts, is a particular case + of secondary desire, and, like all secondary desire its satisfaction does + not lead to a complete cessation of the initial discomfort. Nevertheless, + desire for beliefs, as opposed to desire for facts, is exceedingly potent + both individually and socially. According to the form of belief desired, + it is called vanity, optimism, or religion. Those who have sufficient + power usually imprison or put to death any one who tries to shake their + faith in their own excellence or in that of the universe; it is for this + reason that seditious libel and blasphemy have always been, and still are, + criminal offences. + </p> + <p> + It is very largely through desires for beliefs that the primitive nature + of desire has become so hidden, and that the part played by consciousness + has been so confusing and so exaggerated. + </p> + <p> + We may now summarize our analysis of desire and feeling. + </p> + <p> + A mental occurrence of any kind—sensation, image, belief, or emotion—may + be a cause of a series of actions, continuing, unless interrupted, until + some more or less definite state of affairs is realized. Such a series of + actions we call a "behaviour-cycle." The degree of definiteness may vary + greatly: hunger requires only food in general, whereas the sight of a + particular piece of food raises a desire which requires the eating of that + piece of food. The property of causing such a cycle of occurrences is + called "discomfort"; the property of the mental occurrences in which the + cycle ends is called "pleasure." The actions constituting the cycle must + not be purely mechanical, i.e. they must be bodily movements in whose + causation the special properties of nervous tissue are involved. The cycle + ends in a condition of quiescence, or of such action as tends only to + preserve the status quo. The state of affairs in which this condition of + quiescence is achieved is called the "purpose" of the cycle, and the + initial mental occurrence involving discomfort is called a "desire" for + the state of affairs that brings quiescence. A desire is called + "conscious" when it is accompanied by a true belief as to the state of + affairs that will bring quiescence; otherwise it is called "unconscious." + All primitive desire is unconscious, and in human beings beliefs as to the + purposes of desires are often mistaken. These mistaken beliefs generate + secondary desires, which cause various interesting complications in the + psychology of human desire, without fundamentally altering the character + which it shares with animal desire. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0007" id="link2H_4_0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LECTURE IV. INFLUENCE OF PAST HISTORY ON PRESENT OCCURRENCES IN LIVING + </h2> + <p> + ORGANISMS + </p> + <p> + In this lecture we shall be concerned with a very general characteristic + which broadly, though not absolutely, distinguishes the behaviour of + living organisms from that of dead matter. The characteristic in question + is this: + </p> + <p> + The response of an organism to a given stimulus is very often dependent + upon the past history of the organism, and not merely upon the stimulus + and the HITHERTO DISCOVERABLE present state of the organism. + </p> + <p> + This characteristic is embodied in the saying "a burnt child fears the + fire." The burn may have left no visible traces, yet it modifies the + reaction of the child in the presence of fire. It is customary to assume + that, in such cases, the past operates by modifying the structure of the + brain, not directly. I have no wish to suggest that this hypothesis is + false; I wish only to point out that it is a hypothesis. At the end of the + present lecture I shall examine the grounds in its favour. If we confine + ourselves to facts which have been actually observed, we must say that + past occurrences, in addition to the present stimulus and the present + ascertainable condition of the organism, enter into the causation of the + response. + </p> + <p> + The characteristic is not wholly confined to living organisms. For + example, magnetized steel looks just like steel which has not been + magnetized, but its behaviour is in some ways different. In the case of + dead matter, however, such phenomena are less frequent and important than + in the case of living organisms, and it is far less difficult to invent + satisfactory hypotheses as to the microscopic changes of structure which + mediate between the past occurrence and the present changed response. In + the case of living organisms, practically everything that is distinctive + both of their physical and of their mental behaviour is bound up with this + persistent influence of the past. Further, speaking broadly, the change in + response is usually of a kind that is biologically advantageous to the + organism. + </p> + <p> + Following a suggestion derived from Semon ("Die Mneme," Leipzig, 1904; 2nd + edition, 1908, English translation, Allen & Unwin, 1921; "Die + mnemischen Empfindungen," Leipzig, 1909), we will give the name of "mnemic + phenomena" to those responses of an organism which, so far as hitherto + observed facts are concerned, can only be brought under causal laws by + including past occurrences in the history of the organism as part of the + causes of the present response. I do not mean merely—what would + always be the case—that past occurrences are part of a CHAIN of + causes leading to the present event. I mean that, in attempting to state + the PROXIMATE cause of the present event, some past event or events must + be included, unless we take refuge in hypothetical modifications of brain + structure. For example: you smell peat-smoke, and you recall some occasion + when you smelt it before. The cause of your recollection, so far as + hitherto observable phenomena are concerned, consists both of the peat + smoke (present stimulus) and of the former occasion (past experience). The + same stimulus will not produce the same recollection in another man who + did not share your former experience, although the former experience left + no OBSERVABLE traces in the structure of the brain. According to the maxim + "same cause, same effect," we cannot therefore regard the peat-smoke alone + as the cause of your recollection, since it does not have the same effect + in other cases. The cause of your recollection must be both the peat-smoke + and the past occurrence. Accordingly your recollection is an instance of + what we are calling "mnemic phenomena." + </p> + <p> + Before going further, it will be well to give illustrations of different + classes of mnemic phenomena. + </p> + <p> + (a) ACQUIRED HABITS.—In Lecture II we saw how animals can learn by + experience how to get out of cages or mazes, or perform other actions + which are useful to them but not provided for by their instincts alone. A + cat which is put into a cage of which it has had experience behaves + differently from the way in which it behaved at first. We can easily + invent hypotheses, which are quite likely to be true, as to connections in + the brain caused by past experience, and themselves causing the different + response. But the observable fact is that the stimulus of being in the + cage produces differing results with repetition, and that the + ascertainable cause of the cat's behaviour is not merely the cage and its + own ascertainable organization, but also its past history in regard to the + cage. From our present point of view, the matter is independent of the + question whether the cat's behaviour is due to some mental fact called + "knowledge," or displays a merely bodily habit. Our habitual knowledge is + not always in our minds, but is called up by the appropriate stimuli. If + we are asked "What is the capital of France?" we answer "Paris," because + of past experience; the past experience is as essential as the present + question in the causation of our response. Thus all our habitual knowledge + consists of acquired habits, and comes under the head of mnemic phenomena. + </p> + <p> + (b) IMAGES.—I shall have much to say about images in a later + lecture; for the present I am merely concerned with them in so far as they + are "copies" of past sensations. When you hear New York spoken of, some + image probably comes into your mind, either of the place itself (if you + have been there), or of some picture of it (if you have not). The image is + due to your past experience, as well as to the present stimulus of the + words "New York." Similarly, the images you have in dreams are all + dependent upon your past experience, as well as upon the present stimulus + to dreaming. It is generally believed that all images, in their simpler + parts, are copies of sensations; if so, their mnemic character is evident. + This is important, not only on its own account, but also because, as we + shall see later, images play an essential part in what is called + "thinking." + </p> + <p> + (c) ASSOCIATION.—The broad fact of association, on the mental side, + is that when we experience something which we have experienced before, it + tends to call up the context of the former experience. The smell of + peat-smoke recalling a former scene is an instance which we discussed a + moment ago. This is obviously a mnemic phenomenon. There is also a more + purely physical association, which is indistinguishable from physical + habit. This is the kind studied by Mr. Thorndike in animals, where a + certain stimulus is associated with a certain act. This is the sort which + is taught to soldiers in drilling, for example. In such a case there need + not be anything mental, but merely a habit of the body. There is no + essential distinction between association and habit, and the observations + which we made concerning habit as a mnemic phenomenon are equally + applicable to association. + </p> + <p> + (d) NON-SENSATIONAL ELEMENTS IN PERCEPTION.—When we perceive any + object of a familiar kind, much of what appears subjectively to be + immediately given is really derived from past experience. When we see an + object, say a penny, we seem to be aware of its "real" shape we have the + impression of something circular, not of something elliptical. In learning + to draw, it is necessary to acquire the art of representing things + according to the sensation, not according to the perception. And the + visual appearance is filled out with feeling of what the object would be + like to touch, and so on. This filling out and supplying of the "real" + shape and so on consists of the most usual correlates of the sensational + core in our perception. It may happen that, in the particular case, the + real correlates are unusual; for example, if what we are seeing is a + carpet made to look like tiles. If so, the non-sensational part of our + perception will be illusory, i.e. it will supply qualities which the + object in question does not in fact have. But as a rule objects do have + the qualities added by perception, which is to be expected, since + experience of what is usual is the cause of the addition. If our + experience had been different, we should not fill out sensation in the + same way, except in so far as the filling out is instinctive, not + acquired. It would seem that, in man, all that makes up space perception, + including the correlation of sight and touch and so on, is almost entirely + acquired. In that case there is a large mnemic element in all the common + perceptions by means of which we handle common objects. And, to take + another kind of instance, imagine what our astonishment would be if we + were to hear a cat bark or a dog mew. This emotion would be dependent upon + past experience, and would therefore be a mnemic phenomenon according to + the definition. + </p> + <p> + (e) MEMORY AS KNOWLEDGE.—The kind of memory of which I am now + speaking is definite knowledge of some past event in one's own experience. + From time to time we remember things that have happened to us, because + something in the present reminds us of them. Exactly the same present fact + would not call up the same memory if our past experience had been + different. Thus our remembering is caused by— + </p> + <p> + (1) The present stimulus, + </p> + <p> + (2) The past occurrence. + </p> + <p> + It is therefore a mnemic phenomenon according to our definition. A + definition of "mnemic phenomena" which did not include memory would, of + course, be a bad one. The point of the definition is not that it includes + memory, but that it includes it as one of a class of phenomena which + embrace all that is characteristic in the subject matter of psychology. + </p> + <p> + (f) EXPERIENCE.—The word "experience" is often used very vaguely. + James, as we saw, uses it to cover the whole primal stuff of the world, + but this usage seems objection able, since, in a purely physical world, + things would happen without there being any experience. It is only mnemic + phenomena that embody experience. We may say that an animal "experiences" + an occurrence when this occurrence modifies the animal's subsequent + behaviour, i.e. when it is the mnemic portion of the cause of future + occurrences in the animal's life. The burnt child that fears the fire has + "experienced" the fire, whereas a stick that has been thrown on and taken + off again has not "experienced" anything, since it offers no more + resistance than before to being thrown on. The essence of "experience" is + the modification of behaviour produced by what is experienced. We might, + in fact, define one chain of experience, or one biography, as a series of + occurrences linked by mnemic causation. I think it is this characteristic, + more than any other, that distinguishes sciences dealing with living + organisms from physics. + </p> + <p> + The best writer on mnemic phenomena known to me is Richard Semon, the + fundamental part of whose theory I shall endeavour to summarize before + going further: + </p> + <p> + When an organism, either animal or plant, is subjected to a stimulus, + producing in it some state of excitement, the removal of the stimulus + allows it to return to a condition of equilibrium. But the new state of + equilibrium is different from the old, as may be seen by the changed + capacity for reaction. The state of equilibrium before the stimulus may be + called the "primary indifference-state"; that after the cessation of the + stimulus, the "secondary indifference-state." We define the "engraphic + effect" of a stimulus as the effect in making a difference between the + primary and secondary indifference-states, and this difference itself we + define as the "engram" due to the stimulus. "Mnemic phenomena" are defined + as those due to engrams; in animals, they are specially associated with + the nervous system, but not exclusively, even in man. + </p> + <p> + When two stimuli occur together, one of them, occurring afterwards, may + call out the reaction for the other also. We call this an "ekphoric + influence," and stimuli having this character are called "ekphoric + stimuli." In such a case we call the engrams of the two stimuli + "associated." All simultaneously generated engrams are associated; there + is also association of successively aroused engrams, though this is + reducible to simultaneous association. In fact, it is not an isolated + stimulus that leaves an engram, but the totality of the stimuli at any + moment; consequently any portion of this totality tends, if it recurs, to + arouse the whole reaction which was aroused before. Semon holds that + engrams can be inherited, and that an animal's innate habits may be due to + the experience of its ancestors; on this subject he refers to Samuel + Butler. + </p> + <p> + Semon formulates two "mnemic principles." The first, or "Law of Engraphy," + is as follows: "All simultaneous excitements in an organism form a + connected simultaneous excitement-complex, which as such works + engraphically, i.e. leaves behind a connected engram-complex, which in so + far forms a whole" ("Die mnemischen Empfindungen," p. 146). The second + mnemic principle, or "Law of Ekphory," is as follows: "The partial return + of the energetic situation which formerly worked engraphically operates + ekphorically on a simultaneous engram-complex" (ib., p. 173). These two + laws together represent in part a hypothesis (the engram), and in part an + observable fact. The observable fact is that, when a certain complex of + stimuli has originally caused a certain complex of reactions, the + recurrence of part of the stimuli tends to cause the recurrence of the + whole of the reactions. + </p> + <p> + Semon's applications of his fundamental ideas in various directions are + interesting and ingenious. Some of them will concern us later, but for the + present it is the fundamental character of mnemic phenomena that is in + question. + </p> + <p> + Concerning the nature of an engram, Semon confesses that at present it is + impossible to say more than that it must consist in some material + alteration in the body of the organism ("Die mnemischen Empfindungen," p. + 376). It is, in fact, hypothetical, invoked for theoretical uses, and not + an outcome of direct observation. No doubt physiology, especially the + disturbances of memory through lesions in the brain, affords grounds for + this hypothesis; nevertheless it does remain a hypothesis, the validity of + which will be discussed at the end of this lecture. + </p> + <p> + I am inclined to think that, in the present state of physiology, the + introduction of the engram does not serve to simplify the account of + mnemic phenomena. We can, I think, formulate the known laws of such + phenomena in terms, wholly, of observable facts, by recognizing + provisionally what we may call "mnemic causation." By this I mean that + kind of causation of which I spoke at the beginning of this lecture, that + kind, namely, in which the proximate cause consists not merely of a + present event, but of this together with a past event. I do not wish to + urge that this form of causation is ultimate, but that, in the present + state of our knowledge, it affords a simplification, and enables us to + state laws of behaviour in less hypothetical terms than we should + otherwise have to employ. + </p> + <p> + The clearest instance of what I mean is recollection of a past event. What + we observe is that certain present stimuli lead us to recollect certain + occurrences, but that at times when we are not recollecting them, there is + nothing discoverable in our minds that could be called memory of them. + Memories, as mental facts, arise from time to time, but do not, so far as + we can see, exist in any shape while they are "latent." In fact, when we + say that they are "latent," we mean merely that they will exist under + certain circumstances. If, then, there is to be some standing difference + between the person who can remember a certain fact and the person who + cannot, that standing difference must be, not in anything mental, but in + the brain. It is quite probable that there is such a difference in the + brain, but its nature is unknown and it remains hypothetical. Everything + that has, so far, been made matter of observation as regards this question + can be put together in the statement: When a certain complex of sensations + has occurred to a man, the recurrence of part of the complex tends to + arouse the recollection of the whole. In like manner, we can collect all + mnemic phenomena in living organisms under a single law, which contains + what is hitherto verifiable in Semon's two laws. This single law is: + </p> + <p> + IF A COMPLEX STIMULUS A HAS CAUSED A COMPLEX REACTION B IN AN ORGANISM, + THE OCCURRENCE OF A PART OF A ON A FUTURE OCCASION TENDS TO CAUSE THE + WHOLE REACTION B. + </p> + <p> + This law would need to be supplemented by some account of the influence of + frequency, and so on; but it seems to contain the essential characteristic + of mnemic phenomena, without admixture of anything hypothetical. + </p> + <p> + Whenever the effect resulting from a stimulus to an organism differs + according to the past history of the organism, without our being able + actually to detect any relevant difference in its present structure, we + will speak of "mnemic causation," provided we can discover laws embodying + the influence of the past. In ordinary physical causation, as it appears + to common sense, we have approximate uniformities of sequence, such as + "lightning is followed by thunder," "drunkenness is followed by headache," + and so on. None of these sequences are theoretically invariable, since + something may intervene to disturb them. In order to obtain invariable + physical laws, we have to proceed to differential equations, showing the + direction of change at each moment, not the integral change after a finite + interval, however short. But for the purposes of daily life many sequences + are to all in tents and purposes invariable. With the behaviour of human + beings, however, this is by no means the case. If you say to an + Englishman, "You have a smut on your nose," he will proceed to remove it, + but there will be no such effect if you say the same thing to a Frenchman + who knows no English. The effect of words upon the hearer is a mnemic + phenomena, since it depends upon the past experience which gave him + understanding of the words. If there are to be purely psychological causal + laws, taking no account of the brain and the rest of the body, they will + have to be of the form, not "X now causes Y now," but— + </p> + <p> + "A, B, C,... in the past, together with X now, cause Y now." For it cannot + be successfully maintained that our understanding of a word, for example, + is an actual existent content of the mind at times when we are not + thinking of the word. It is merely what may be called a "disposition," + i.e. it is capable of being aroused whenever we hear the word or happen to + think of it. A "disposition" is not something actual, but merely the + mnemic portion of a mnemic causal law. + </p> + <p> + In such a law as "A, B, C,... in the past, together with X now, cause Y + now," we will call A, B, C,... the mnemic cause, X the occasion or + stimulus, and Y the reaction. All cases in which experience influences + behaviour are instances of mnemic causation. + </p> + <p> + Believers in psycho-physical parallelism hold that psychology can + theoretically be freed entirely from all dependence on physiology or + physics. That is to say, they believe that every psychical event has a + psychical cause and a physical concomitant. If there is to be parallelism, + it is easy to prove by mathematical logic that the causation in physical + and psychical matters must be of the same sort, and it is impossible that + mnemic causation should exist in psychology but not in physics. But if + psychology is to be independent of physiology, and if physiology can be + reduced to physics, it would seem that mnemic causation is essential in + psychology. Otherwise we shall be compelled to believe that all our + knowledge, all our store of images and memories, all our mental habits, + are at all times existing in some latent mental form, and are not merely + aroused by the stimuli which lead to their display. This is a very + difficult hypothesis. It seems to me that if, as a matter of method rather + than metaphysics, we desire to obtain as much independence for psychology + as is practically feasible, we shall do better to accept mnemic causation + in psychology protem, and therefore reject parallelism, since there is no + good ground for admitting mnemic causation in physics. + </p> + <p> + It is perhaps worth while to observe that mnemic causation is what led + Bergson to deny that there is causation at all in the psychical sphere. He + points out, very truly, that the same stimulus, repeated, does not have + the same consequences, and he argues that this is contrary to the maxim, + "same cause, same effect." It is only necessary, however, to take account + of past occurrences and include them with the cause, in order to + re-establish the maxim, and the possibility of psychological causal laws. + The metaphysical conception of a cause lingers in our manner of viewing + causal laws: we want to be able to FEEL a connection between cause and + effect, and to be able to imagine the cause as "operating." This makes us + unwilling to regard causal laws as MERELY observed uniformities of + sequence; yet that is all that science has to offer. To ask why + such-and-such a kind of sequence occurs is either to ask a meaningless + question, or to demand some more general kind of sequence which includes + the one in question. The widest empirical laws of sequence known at any + time can only be "explained" in the sense of being subsumed by later + discoveries under wider laws; but these wider laws, until they in turn are + subsumed, will remain brute facts, resting solely upon observation, not + upon some supposed inherent rationality. + </p> + <p> + There is therefore no a priori objection to a causal law in which part of + the cause has ceased to exist. To argue against such a law on the ground + that what is past cannot operate now, is to introduce the old metaphysical + notion of cause, for which science can find no place. The only reason that + could be validly alleged against mnemic causation would be that, in fact, + all the phenomena can be explained without it. They are explained without + it by Semon's "engram," or by any theory which regards the results of + experience as embodied in modifications of the brain and nerves. But they + are not explained, unless with extreme artificiality, by any theory which + regards the latent effects of experience as psychical rather than + physical. Those who desire to make psychology as far as possible + independent of physiology would do well, it seems to me, if they adopted + mnemic causation. For my part, however, I have no such desire, and I shall + therefore endeavour to state the grounds which occur to me in favour of + some such view as that of the "engram." + </p> + <p> + One of the first points to be urged is that mnemic phenomena are just as + much to be found in physiology as in psychology. They are even to be found + in plants, as Sir Francis Darwin pointed out (cf. Semon, "Die Mneme," 2nd + edition, p. 28 n.). Habit is a characteristic of the body at least as much + as of the mind. We should, therefore, be compelled to allow the intrusion + of mnemic causation, if admitted at all, into non-psychological regions, + which ought, one feels, to be subject only to causation of the ordinary + physical sort. The fact is that a great deal of what, at first sight, + distinguishes psychology from physics is found, on examination, to be + common to psychology and physiology; this whole question of the influence + of experience is a case in point. Now it is possible, of course, to take + the view advocated by Professor J. S. Haldane, who contends that + physiology is not theoretically reducible to physics and chemistry.* But + the weight of opinion among physiologists appears to be against him on + this point; and we ought certainly to require very strong evidence before + admitting any such breach of continuity as between living and dead matter. + The argument from the existence of mnemic phenomena in physiology must + therefore be allowed a certain weight against the hypothesis that mnemic + causation is ultimate. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * See his "The New Physiology and Other Addresses," Griffin, + 1919, also the symposium, "Are Physical, Biological and + Psychological Categories Irreducible?" in "Life and Finite + Individuality," edited for the Aristotelian Society, with an + Introduction. By H. Wildon Carr, Williams & Norgate, 1918. +</pre> + <p> + The argument from the connection of brain-lesions with loss of memory is + not so strong as it looks, though it has also, some weight. What we know + is that memory, and mnemic phenomena generally, can be disturbed or + destroyed by changes in the brain. This certainly proves that the brain + plays an essential part in the causation of memory, but does not prove + that a certain state of the brain is, by itself, a sufficient condition + for the existence of memory. Yet it is this last that has to be proved. + The theory of the engram, or any similar theory, has to maintain that, + given a body and brain in a suitable state, a man will have a certain + memory, without the need of any further conditions. What is known, + however, is only that he will not have memories if his body and brain are + not in a suitable state. That is to say, the appropriate state of body and + brain is proved to be necessary for memory, but not to be sufficient. So + far, therefore, as our definite knowledge goes, memory may require for its + causation a past occurrence as well as a certain present state of the + brain. + </p> + <p> + In order to prove conclusively that mnemic phenomena arise whenever + certain physiological conditions are fulfilled, we ought to be able + actually to see differences between the brain of a man who speaks English + and that of a man who speaks French, between the brain of a man who has + seen New York and can recall it, and that of a man who has never seen that + city. It may be that the time will come when this will be possible, but at + present we are very far removed from it. At present, there is, so far as I + am aware, no good evidence that every difference between the knowledge + possessed by A and that possessed by B is paralleled by some difference in + their brains. We may believe that this is the case, but if we do, our + belief is based upon analogies and general scientific maxims, not upon any + foundation of detailed observation. I am myself inclined, as a working + hypothesis, to adopt the belief in question, and to hold that past + experience only affects present behaviour through modifications of + physiological structure. But the evidence seems not quite conclusive, so + that I do not think we ought to forget the other hypothesis, or to reject + entirely the possibility that mnemic causation may be the ultimate + explanation of mnemic phenomena. I say this, not because I think it LIKELY + that mnemic causation is ultimate, but merely because I think it POSSIBLE, + and because it often turns out important to the progress of science to + remember hypotheses which have previously seemed improbable. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0008" id="link2H_4_0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LECTURE V. PSYCHOLOGICAL AND PHYSICAL CAUSAL LAWS + </h2> + <p> + The traditional conception of cause and effect is one which modern science + shows to be fundamentally erroneous, and requiring to be replaced by a + quite different notion, that of LAWS OF CHANGE. In the traditional + conception, a particular event A caused a particular event B, and by this + it was implied that, given any event B, some earlier event A could be + discovered which had a relation to it, such that— + </p> + <p> + (1) Whenever A occurred, it was followed by B; + </p> + <p> + (2) In this sequence, there was something "necessary," not a mere de facto + occurrence of A first and then B. + </p> + <p> + The second point is illustrated by the old discussion as to whether it can + be said that day causes night, on the ground that day is always followed + by night. The orthodox answer was that day could not be called the cause + of night, because it would not be followed by night if the earth's + rotation were to cease, or rather to grow so slow that one complete + rotation would take a year. A cause, it was held, must be such that under + no conceivable circumstances could it fail to be followed by its effect. + </p> + <p> + As a matter of fact, such sequences as were sought by believers in the + traditional form of causation have not so far been found in nature. + Everything in nature is apparently in a state of continuous change,* so + that what we call one "event" turns out to be really a process. If this + event is to cause another event, the two will have to be contiguous in + time; for if there is any interval between them, something may happen + during that interval to prevent the expected effect. Cause and effect, + therefore, will have to be temporally contiguous processes. It is + difficult to believe, at any rate where physical laws are concerned, that + the earlier part of the process which is the cause can make any difference + to the effect, so long as the later part of the process which is the cause + remains unchanged. Suppose, for example, that a man dies of arsenic + poisoning, we say that his taking arsenic was the cause of death. But + clearly the process by which he acquired the arsenic is irrelevant: + everything that happened before he swallowed it may be ignored, since it + cannot alter the effect except in so far as it alters his condition at the + moment of taking the dose. But we may go further: swallowing arsenic is + not really the proximate cause of death, since a man might be shot through + the head immediately after taking the dose, and then it would not be of + arsenic that he would die. The arsenic produces certain physiological + changes, which take a finite time before they end in death. The earlier + parts of these changes can be ruled out in the same way as we can rule out + the process by which the arsenic was acquired. Proceeding in this way, we + can shorten the process which we are calling the cause more and more. + Similarly we shall have to shorten the effect. It may happen that + immediately after the man's death his body is blown to pieces by a bomb. + We cannot say what will happen after the man's death, through merely + knowing that he has died as the result of arsenic poisoning. Thus, if we + are to take the cause as one event and the effect as another, both must be + shortened indefinitely. The result is that we merely have, as the + embodiment of our causal law, a certain direction of change at each + moment. Hence we are brought to differential equations as embodying causal + laws. A physical law does not say "A will be followed by B," but tells us + what acceleration a particle will have under given circumstances, i.e. it + tells us how the particle's motion is changing at each moment, not where + the particle will be at some future moment. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * The theory of quanta suggests that the continuity is only + apparent. If so, we shall be able theoretically to reach + events which are not processes. But in what is directly + observable there is still apparent continuity, which + justifies the above remarks for the prevent. +</pre> + <p> + Laws embodied in differential equations may possibly be exact, but cannot + be known to be so. All that we can know empirically is approximate and + liable to exceptions; the exact laws that are assumed in physics are known + to be somewhere near the truth, but are not known to be true just as they + stand. The laws that we actually know empirically have the form of the + traditional causal laws, except that they are not to be regarded as + universal or necessary. "Taking arsenic is followed by death" is a good + empirical generalization; it may have exceptions, but they will be rare. + As against the professedly exact laws of physics, such empirical + generalizations have the advantage that they deal with observable + phenomena. We cannot observe infinitesimals, whether in time or space; we + do not even know whether time and space are infinitely divisible. + Therefore rough empirical generalizations have a definite place in + science, in spite of not being exact of universal. They are the data for + more exact laws, and the grounds for believing that they are USUALLY true + are stronger than the grounds for believing that the more exact laws are + ALWAYS true. + </p> + <p> + Science starts, therefore, from generalizations of the form, "A is usually + followed by B." This is the nearest approach that can be made to a causal + law of the traditional sort. It may happen in any particular instance that + A is ALWAYS followed by B, but we cannot know this, since we cannot + foresee all the perfectly possible circumstances that might make the + sequence fail, or know that none of them will actually occur. If, however, + we know of a very large number of cases in which A is followed by B, and + few or none in which the sequence fails, we shall in PRACTICE be justified + in saying "A causes B," provided we do not attach to the notion of cause + any of the metaphysical superstitions that have gathered about the word. + </p> + <p> + There is another point, besides lack of universality and necessity, which + it is important to realize as regards causes in the above sense, and that + is the lack of uniqueness. It is generally assumed that, given any event, + there is some one phenomenon which is THE cause of the event in question. + This seems to be a mere mistake. Cause, in the only sense in which it can + be practically applied, means "nearly invariable antecedent." We cannot in + practice obtain an antecedent which is QUITE invariable, for this would + require us to take account of the whole universe, since something not + taken account of may prevent the expected effect. We cannot distinguish, + among nearly invariable antecedents, one as THE cause, and the others as + merely its concomitants: the attempt to do this depends upon a notion of + cause which is derived from will, and will (as we shall see later) is not + at all the sort of thing that it is generally supposed to be, nor is there + any reason to think that in the physical world there is anything even + remotely analogous to what will is supposed to be. If we could find one + antecedent, and only one, that was QUITE invariable, we could call that + one THE cause without introducing any notion derived from mistaken ideas + about will. But in fact we cannot find any antecedent that we know to be + quite invariable, and we can find many that are nearly so. For example, + men leave a factory for dinner when the hooter sounds at twelve o'clock. + You may say the hooter is THE cause of their leaving. But innumerable + other hooters in other factories, which also always sound at twelve + o'clock, have just as good a right to be called the cause. Thus every + event has many nearly invariable antecedents, and therefore many + antecedents which may be called its cause. + </p> + <p> + The laws of traditional physics, in the form in which they deal with + movements of matter or electricity, have an apparent simplicity which + somewhat conceals the empirical character of what they assert. A piece of + matter, as it is known empirically, is not a single existing thing, but a + system of existing things. When several people simultaneously see the same + table, they all see something different; therefore "the" table, which they + are supposed all to see, must be either a hypothesis or a construction. + "The" table is to be neutral as between different observers: it does not + favour the aspect seen by one man at the expense of that seen by another. + It was natural, though to my mind mistaken, to regard the "real" table as + the common cause of all the appearances which the table presents (as we + say) to different observers. But why should we suppose that there is some + one common cause of all these appearances? As we have just seen, the + notion of "cause" is not so reliable as to allow us to infer the existence + of something that, by its very nature, can never be observed. + </p> + <p> + Instead of looking for an impartial source, we can secure neutrality by + the equal representation of all parties. Instead of supposing that there + is some unknown cause, the "real" table, behind the different sensations + of those who are said to be looking at the table, we may take the whole + set of these sensations (together possibly with certain other particulars) + as actually BEING the table. That is to say, the table which is neutral as + between different observers (actual and possible) is the set of all those + particulars which would naturally be called "aspects" of the table from + different points of view. (This is a first approximation, modified later.) + </p> + <p> + It may be said: If there is no single existent which is the source of all + these "aspects," how are they collected together? The answer is simple: + Just as they would be if there were such a single existent. The supposed + "real" table underlying its appearances is, in any case, not itself + perceived, but inferred, and the question whether such-and-such a + particular is an "aspect" of this table is only to be settled by the + connection of the particular in question with the one or more particulars + by which the table is defined. That is to say, even if we assume a "real" + table, the particulars which are its aspects have to be collected together + by their relations to each other, not to it, since it is merely inferred + from them. We have only, therefore, to notice how they are collected + together, and we can then keep the collection without assuming any "real" + table as distinct from the collection. When different people see what they + call the same table, they see things which are not exactly the same, owing + to difference of point of view, but which are sufficiently alike to be + described in the same words, so long as no great accuracy or minuteness is + sought. These closely similar particulars are collected together by their + similarity primarily and, more correctly, by the fact that they are + related to each other approximately according to the laws of perspective + and of reflection and diffraction of light. I suggest, as a first + approximation, that these particulars, together with such correlated + others as are unperceived, jointly ARE the table; and that a similar + definition applies to all physical objects.* + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + *See "Our Knowledge of the External World" (Allen & Unwin), + chaps. iii and iv. +</pre> + <p> + In order to eliminate the reference to our perceptions, which introduces + an irrelevant psychological suggestion, I will take a different + illustration, namely, stellar photography. A photographic plate exposed on + a clear night reproduces the appearance of the portion of the sky + concerned, with more or fewer stars according to the power of the + telescope that is being used. Each separate star which is photographed + produces its separate effect on the plate, just as it would upon ourselves + if we were looking at the sky. If we assume, as science normally does, the + continuity of physical processes, we are forced to conclude that, at the + place where the plate is, and at all places between it and a star which it + photographs, SOMETHING is happening which is specially connected with that + star. In the days when the aether was less in doubt, we should have said + that what was happening was a certain kind of transverse vibration in the + aether. But it is not necessary or desirable to be so explicit: all that + we need say is that SOMETHING happens which is specially connected with + the star in question. It must be something specially connected with that + star, since that star produces its own special effect upon the plate. + Whatever it is must be the end of a process which starts from the star and + radiates outwards, partly on general grounds of continuity, partly to + account for the fact that light is transmitted with a certain definite + velocity. We thus arrive at the conclusion that, if a certain star is + visible at a certain place, or could be photographed by a sufficiently + sensitive plate at that place, something is happening there which is + specially connected with that star. Therefore in every place at all times + a vast multitude of things must be happening, namely, at least one for + every physical object which can be seen or photographed from that place. + We can classify such happenings on either of two principles: + </p> + <p> + (1) We can collect together all the happenings in one place, as is done by + photography so far as light is concerned; + </p> + <p> + (2) We can collect together all the happenings, in different places, which + are connected in the way that common sense regards as being due to their + emanating from one object. + </p> + <p> + Thus, to return to the stars, we can collect together either— + </p> + <p> + (1) All the appearances of different stars in a given place, or, + </p> + <p> + (2) All the appearances of a given star in different places. + </p> + <p> + But when I speak of "appearances," I do so only for brevity: I do not mean + anything that must "appear" to somebody, but only that happening, whatever + it may be, which is connected, at the place in question, with a given + physical object—according to the old orthodox theory, it would be a + transverse vibration in the aether. Like the different appearances of the + table to a number of simultaneous observers, the different particulars + that belong to one physical object are to be collected together by + continuity and inherent laws of correlation, not by their supposed causal + connection with an unknown assumed existent called a piece of matter, + which would be a mere unnecessary metaphysical thing in itself. A piece of + matter, according to the definition that I propose, is, as a first + approximation,* the collection of all those correlated particulars which + would normally be regarded as its appearances or effects in different + places. Some further elaborations are desirable, but we can ignore them + for the present. I shall return to them at the end of this lecture. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + *The exact definition of a piece of matter as a construction + will be given later. +</pre> + <p> + According to the view that I am suggesting, a physical object or piece of + matter is the collection of all those correlated particulars which would + be regarded by common sense as its effects or appearances in different + places. On the other hand, all the happenings in a given place represent + what common sense would regard as the appearances of a number of different + objects as viewed from that place. All the happenings in one place may be + regarded as the view of the world from that place. I shall call the view + of the world from a given place a "perspective." A photograph represents a + perspective. On the other hand, if photographs of the stars were taken in + all points throughout space, and in all such photographs a certain star, + say Sirius, were picked out whenever it appeared, all the different + appearances of Sirius, taken together, would represent Sirius. For the + understanding of the difference between psychology and physics it is vital + to understand these two ways of classifying particulars, namely: + </p> + <p> + (1) According to the place where they occur; + </p> + <p> + (2) According to the system of correlated particulars in different places + to which they belong, such system being defined as a physical object. + </p> + <p> + Given a system of particulars which is a physical object, I shall define + that one of the system which is in a given place (if any) as the + "appearance of that object in that place." + </p> + <p> + When the appearance of an object in a given place changes, it is found + that one or other of two things occurs. The two possibilities may be + illustrated by an example. You are in a room with a man, whom you see: you + may cease to see him either by shutting your eyes or by his going out of + the room. In the first case, his appearance to other people remains + unchanged; in the second, his appearance changes from all places. In the + first case, you say that it is not he who has changed, but your eyes; in + the second, you say that he has changed. Generalizing, we distinguish— + </p> + <p> + (1) Cases in which only certain appearances of the object change, while + others, and especially appearances from places very near to the object, do + not change; + </p> + <p> + (2) Cases where all, or almost all, the appearances of the object undergo + a connected change. + </p> + <p> + In the first case, the change is attributed to the medium between the + object and the place; in the second, it is attributed to the object + itself.* + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * The application of this distinction to motion raises + complications due to relativity, but we may ignore these for + our present purposes. +</pre> + <p> + It is the frequency of the latter kind of change, and the comparatively + simple nature of the laws governing the simultaneous alterations of + appearances in such cases, that have made it possible to treat a physical + object as one thing, and to overlook the fact that it is a system of + particulars. When a number of people at a theatre watch an actor, the + changes in their several perspectives are so similar and so closely + correlated that all are popularly regarded as identical with each other + and with the changes of the actor himself. So long as all the changes in + the appearances of a body are thus correlated there is no pressing prima + facie need to break up the system of appearances, or to realize that the + body in question is not really one thing but a set of correlated + particulars. It is especially and primarily such changes that physics + deals with, i.e. it deals primarily with processes in which the unity of a + physical object need not be broken up because all its appearances change + simultaneously according to the same law—or, if not all, at any rate + all from places sufficiently near to the object, with in creasing accuracy + as we approach the object. + </p> + <p> + The changes in appearances of an object which are due to changes in the + intervening medium will not affect, or will affect only very slightly, the + appearances from places close to the object. If the appearances from + sufficiently neighbouring places are either wholly un changed, or changed + to a diminishing extent which has zero for its limit, it is usually found + that the changes can be accounted for by changes in objects which are + between the object in question and the places from which its appearance + has changed appreciably. Thus physics is able to reduce the laws of most + changes with which it deals to changes in physical objects, and to state + most of its fundamental laws in terms of matter. It is only in those cases + in which the unity of the system of appearances constituting a piece of + matter has to be broken up, that the statement of what is happening cannot + be made exclusively in terms of matter. The whole of psychology, we shall + find, is included among such cases; hence their importance for our + purposes. + </p> + <p> + We can now begin to understand one of the fundamental differences between + physics and psychology. Physics treats as a unit the whole system of + appearances of a piece of matter, whereas psychology is interested in + certain of these appearances themselves. Confining ourselves for the + moment to the psychology of perceptions, we observe that perceptions are + certain of the appearances of physical objects. From the point of view + that we have been hitherto adopting, we might define them as the + appearances of objects at places from which sense-organs and the suitable + parts of the nervous system form part of the intervening medium. Just as a + photographic plate receives a different impression of a cluster of stars + when a telescope is part of the intervening medium, so a brain receives a + different impression when an eye and an optic nerve are part of the + intervening medium. An impression due to this sort of intervening medium + is called a perception, and is interesting to psychology on its own + account, not merely as one of the set of correlated particulars which is + the physical object of which (as we say) we are having a perception. + </p> + <p> + We spoke earlier of two ways of classifying particulars. One way collects + together the appearances commonly regarded as a given object from + different places; this is, broadly speaking, the way of physics, leading + to the construction of physical objects as sets of such appearances. The + other way collects together the appearances of different objects from a + given place, the result being what we call a perspective. In the + particular case where the place concerned is a human brain, the + perspective belonging to the place consists of all the perceptions of a + certain man at a given time. Thus classification by perspectives is + relevant to psychology, and is essential in defining what we mean by one + mind. + </p> + <p> + I do not wish to suggest that the way in which I have been defining + perceptions is the only possible way, or even the best way. It is the way + that arose naturally out of our present topic. But when we approach + psychology from a more introspective standpoint, we have to distinguish + sensations and perceptions, if possible, from other mental occurrences, if + any. We have also to consider the psychological effects of sensations, as + opposed to their physical causes and correlates. These problems are quite + distinct from those with which we have been concerned in the present + lecture, and I shall not deal with them until a later stage. + </p> + <p> + It is clear that psychology is concerned essentially with actual + particulars, not merely with systems of particulars. In this it differs + from physics, which, broadly speaking, is concerned with the cases in + which all the particulars which make up one physical object can be treated + as a single causal unit, or rather the particulars which are sufficiently + near to the object of which they are appearances can be so treated. The + laws which physics seeks can, broadly speaking, be stated by treating such + systems of particulars as causal units. The laws which psychology seeks + cannot be so stated, since the particulars themselves are what interests + the psychologist. This is one of the fundamental differences between + physics and psychology; and to make it clear has been the main purpose of + this lecture. + </p> + <p> + I will conclude with an attempt to give a more precise definition of a + piece of matter. The appearances of a piece of matter from different + places change partly according to intrinsic laws (the laws of perspective, + in the case of visual shape), partly according to the nature of the + intervening medium—fog, blue spectacles, telescopes, microscopes, + sense-organs, etc. As we approach nearer to the object, the effect of the + intervening medium grows less. In a generalized sense, all the intrinsic + laws of change of appearance may be called "laws of perspective." Given + any appearance of an object, we can construct hypothetically a certain + system of appearances to which the appearance in question would belong if + the laws of perspective alone were concerned. If we construct this + hypothetical system for each appearance of the object in turn, the system + corresponding to a given appearance x will be independent of any + distortion due to the medium beyond x, and will only embody such + distortion as is due to the medium between x and the object. Thus, as the + appearance by which our hypothetical system is defined is moved nearer and + nearer to the object, the hypothetical system of appearances defined by + its means embodies less and less of the effect of the medium. The + different sets of appearances resulting from moving x nearer and nearer to + the object will approach to a limiting set, and this limiting set will be + that system of appearances which the object would present if the laws of + perspective alone were operative and the medium exercised no distorting + effect. This limiting set of appearances may be defined, for purposes of + physics, as the piece of matter concerned. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0009" id="link2H_4_0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LECTURE VI. INTROSPECTION + </h2> + <p> + One of the main purposes of these lectures is to give grounds for the + belief that the distinction between mind and matter is not so fundamental + as is commonly supposed. In the preceding lecture I dealt in outline with + the physical side of this problem. I attempted to show that what we call a + material object is not itself a substance, but is a system of particulars + analogous in their nature to sensations, and in fact often including + actual sensations among their number. In this way the stuff of which + physical objects are composed is brought into relation with the stuff of + which part, at least, of our mental life is composed. + </p> + <p> + There is, however, a converse task which is equally necessary for our + thesis, and that is, to show that the stuff of our mental life is devoid + of many qualities which it is commonly supposed to have, and is not + possessed of any attributes which make it incapable of forming part of the + world of matter. In the present lecture I shall begin the arguments for + this view. + </p> + <p> + Corresponding to the supposed duality of matter and mind, there are, in + orthodox psychology, two ways of knowing what exists. One of these, the + way of sensation and external perception, is supposed to furnish data for + our knowledge of matter, the other, called "introspection," is supposed to + furnish data for knowledge of our mental processes. To common sense, this + distinction seems clear and easy. When you see a friend coming along the + street, you acquire knowledge of an external, physical fact; when you + realize that you are glad to meet him, you acquire knowledge of a mental + fact. Your dreams and memories and thoughts, of which you are often + conscious, are mental facts, and the process by which you become aware of + them SEEMS to be different from sensation. Kant calls it the "inner + sense"; sometimes it is spoken of as "consciousness of self"; but its + commonest name in modern English psychology is "introspection." It is this + supposed method of acquiring knowledge of our mental processes that I wish + to analyse and examine in this lecture. + </p> + <p> + I will state at the outset the view which I shall aim at establishing. I + believe that the stuff of our mental life, as opposed to its relations and + structure, consists wholly of sensations and images. Sensations are + connected with matter in the way that I tried to explain in Lecture V, + i.e. each is a member of a system which is a certain physical object. + Images, though they USUALLY have certain characteristics, especially lack + of vividness, that distinguish them from sensations, are not INVARIABLY so + distinguished, and cannot therefore be defined by these characteristics. + Images, as opposed to sensations, can only be defined by their different + causation: they are caused by association with a sensation, not by a + stimulus external to the nervous system—or perhaps one should say + external to the brain, where the higher animals are concerned. The + occurrence of a sensation or image does not in itself constitute knowledge + but any sensation or image may come to be known if the conditions are + suitable. When a sensation—like the hearing of a clap of thunder—is + normally correlated with closely similar sensations in our neighbours, we + regard it as giving knowledge of the external world, since we regard the + whole set of similar sensations as due to a common external cause. But + images and bodily sensations are not so correlated. Bodily sensations can + be brought into a correlation by physiology, and thus take their place + ultimately among sources of knowledge of the physical world. But images + cannot be made to fit in with the simultaneous sensations and images of + others. Apart from their hypothetical causes in the brain, they have a + causal connection with physical objects, through the fact that they are + copies of past sensations; but the physical objects with which they are + thus connected are in the past, not in the present. These images remain + private in a sense in which sensations are not. A sensation SEEMS to give + us knowledge of a present physical object, while an image does not, except + when it amounts to a hallucination, and in this case the seeming is + deceptive. Thus the whole context of the two occurrences is different. But + in themselves they do not differ profoundly, and there is no reason to + invoke two different ways of knowing for the one and for the other. + Consequently introspection as a separate kind of knowledge disappears. + </p> + <p> + The criticism of introspection has been in the main the work of American + psychologists. I will begin by summarizing an article which seems to me to + afford a good specimen of their arguments, namely, "The Case against + Introspection," by Knight Dunlap ("Psychological Review," vol xix, No. 5, + pp. 404-413, September, 1912). After a few historical quotations, he comes + to two modern defenders of introspection, Stout and James. He quotes from + Stout such statements as the following: "Psychical states as such become + objects only when we attend to them in an introspective way. Otherwise + they are not themselves objects, but only constituents of the process by + which objects are recognized" ("Manual," 2nd edition, p. 134. The word + "recognized" in Dunlap's quotation should be "cognized.") "The object + itself can never be identified with the present modification of the + individual's consciousness by which it is cognized" (ib. p. 60). This is + to be true even when we are thinking about modifications of our own + consciousness; such modifications are to be always at least partially + distinct from the conscious experience in which we think of them. + </p> + <p> + At this point I wish to interrupt the account of Knight Dunlap's article + in order to make some observations on my own account with reference to the + above quotations from Stout. In the first place, the conception of + "psychical states" seems to me one which demands analysis of a somewhat + destructive character. This analysis I shall give in later lectures as + regards cognition; I have already given it as regards desire. In the + second place, the conception of "objects" depends upon a certain view as + to cognition which I believe to be wholly mistaken, namely, the view which + I discussed in my first lecture in connection with Brentano. In this view + a single cognitive occurrence contains both content and object, the + content being essentially mental, while the object is physical except in + introspection and abstract thought. I have already criticized this view, + and will not dwell upon it now, beyond saying that "the process by which + objects are cognized" appears to be a very slippery phrase. When we "see a + table," as common sense would say, the table as a physical object is not + the "object" (in the psychological sense) of our perception. Our + perception is made up of sensations, images and beliefs, but the supposed + "object" is something inferential, externally related, not logically bound + up with what is occurring in us. This question of the nature of the object + also affects the view we take of self-consciousness. Obviously, a + "conscious experience" is different from a physical object; therefore it + is natural to assume that a thought or perception whose object is a + conscious experience must be different from a thought or perception whose + object is a physical object. But if the relation to the object is + inferential and external, as I maintain, the difference between two + thoughts may bear very little relation to the difference between their + objects. And to speak of "the present modification of the individual's + consciousness by which an object is cognized" is to suggest that the + cognition of objects is a far more direct process, far more intimately + bound up with the objects, than I believe it to be. All these points will + be amplified when we come to the analysis of knowledge, but it is + necessary briefly to state them now in order to suggest the atmosphere in + which our analysis of "introspection" is to be carried on. + </p> + <p> + Another point in which Stout's remarks seem to me to suggest what I regard + as mistakes is his use of "consciousness." There is a view which is + prevalent among psychologists, to the effect that one can speak of "a + conscious experience" in a curious dual sense, meaning, on the one hand, + an experience which is conscious of something, and, on the other hand, an + experience which has some intrinsic nature characteristic of what is + called "consciousness." That is to say, a "conscious experience" is + characterized on the one hand by relation to its object and on the other + hand by being composed of a certain peculiar stuff, the stuff of + "consciousness." And in many authors there is yet a third confusion: a + "conscious experience," in this third sense, is an experience of which we + are conscious. All these, it seems to me, need to be clearly separated. To + say that one occurrence is "conscious" of another is, to my mind, to + assert an external and rather remote relation between them. I might + illustrate it by the relation of uncle and nephew a man becomes an uncle + through no effort of his own, merely through an occurrence elsewhere. + Similarly, when you are said to be "conscious" of a table, the question + whether this is really the case cannot be decided by examining only your + state of mind: it is necessary also to ascertain whether your sensation is + having those correlates which past experience causes you to assume, or + whether the table happens, in this case, to be a mirage. And, as I + explained in my first lecture, I do not believe that there is any "stuff" + of consciousness, so that there is no intrinsic character by which a + "conscious" experience could be distinguished from any other. + </p> + <p> + After these preliminaries, we can return to Knight Dunlap's article. His + criticism of Stout turns on the difficulty of giving any empirical meaning + to such notions as the "mind" or the "subject"; he quotes from Stout the + sentence: "The most important drawback is that the mind, in watching its + own workings, must necessarily have its attention divided between two + objects," and he concludes: "Without question, Stout is bringing in here + illicitly the concept of a single observer, and his introspection does not + provide for the observation of this observer; for the process observed and + the observer are distinct" (p. 407). The objections to any theory which + brings in the single observer were considered in Lecture I, and were + acknowledged to be cogent. In so far, therefore, as Stout's theory of + introspection rests upon this assumption, we are compelled to reject it. + But it is perfectly possible to believe in introspection without supposing + that there is a single observer. + </p> + <p> + William James's theory of introspection, which Dunlap next examines, does + not assume a single observer. It changed after the publication of his + "Psychology," in consequence of his abandoning the dualism of thought and + things. Dunlap summarizes his theory as follows: + </p> + <p> + "The essential points in James's scheme of consciousness are SUBJECT, + OBJECT, and a KNOWING of the object by the subject. The difference between + James's scheme and other schemes involving the same terms is that James + considers subject and object to be the same thing, but at different times + In order to satisfy this requirement James supposes a realm of existence + which he at first called 'states of consciousness' or 'thoughts,' and + later, 'pure experience,' the latter term including both the 'thoughts' + and the 'knowing.' This scheme, with all its magnificent artificiality, + James held on to until the end, simply dropping the term consciousness and + the dualism between the thought and an external reality"(p. 409). + </p> + <p> + He adds: "All that James's system really amounts to is the acknowledgment + that a succession of things are known, and that they are known by + something. This is all any one can claim, except for the fact that the + things are known together, and that the knower for the different items is + one and the same" (ib.). + </p> + <p> + In this statement, to my mind, Dunlap concedes far more than James did in + his later theory. I see no reason to suppose that "the knower for + different items is one and the same," and I am convinced that this + proposition could not possibly be ascertained except by introspection of + the sort that Dunlap rejects. The first of these points must wait until we + come to the analysis of belief: the second must be considered now. + Dunlap's view is that there is a dualism of subject and object, but that + the subject can never become object, and therefore there is no awareness + of an awareness. He says in discussing the view that introspection reveals + the occurrence of knowledge: "There can be no denial of the existence of + the thing (knowing) which is alleged to be known or observed in this sort + of 'introspection.' The allegation that the knowing is observed is that + which may be denied. Knowing there certainly is; known, the knowing + certainly is not"(p. 410). And again: "I am never aware of an awareness" + (ib.). And on the next page: "It may sound paradoxical to say that one + cannot observe the process (or relation) of observation, and yet may be + certain that there is such a process: but there is really no inconsistency + in the saying. How do I know that there is awareness? By being aware of + something. There is no meaning in the term 'awareness' which is not + expressed in the statement 'I am aware of a colour (or what-not).'" + </p> + <p> + But the paradox cannot be so lightly disposed of. The statement "I am + aware of a colour" is assumed by Knight Dunlap to be known to be true, but + he does not explain how it comes to be known. The argument against him is + not conclusive, since he may be able to show some valid way of inferring + our awareness. But he does not suggest any such way. There is nothing odd + in the hypothesis of beings which are aware of objects, but not of their + own awareness; it is, indeed, highly probable that young children and the + higher animals are such beings. But such beings cannot make the statement + "I am aware of a colour," which WE can make. We have, therefore, some + knowledge which they lack. It is necessary to Knight Dunlap's position to + maintain that this additional knowledge is purely inferential, but he + makes no attempt to show how the inference is possible. It may, of course, + be possible, but I cannot see how. To my mind the fact (which he admits) + that we know there is awareness, is ALL BUT decisive against his theory, + and in favour of the view that we can be aware of an awareness. + </p> + <p> + Dunlap asserts (to return to James) that the real ground for James's + original belief in introspection was his belief in two sorts of objects, + namely, thoughts and things. He suggests that it was a mere inconsistency + on James's part to adhere to introspection after abandoning the dualism of + thoughts and things. I do not wholly agree with this view, but it is + difficult to disentangle the difference as to introspection from the + difference as to the nature of knowing. Dunlap suggests (p. 411) that what + is called introspection really consists of awareness of "images," visceral + sensations, and so on. This view, in essence, seems to me sound. But then + I hold that knowing itself consists of such constituents suitably related, + and that in being aware of them we are sometimes being aware of instances + of knowing. For this reason, much as I agree with his view as to what are + the objects of which there is awareness, I cannot wholly agree with his + conclusion as to the impossibility of introspection. + </p> + <p> + The behaviourists have challenged introspection even more vigorously than + Knight Dunlap, and have gone so far as to deny the existence of images. + But I think that they have confused various things which are very commonly + confused, and that it is necessary to make several distinctions before we + can arrive at what is true and what false in the criticism of + introspection. + </p> + <p> + I wish to distinguish three distinct questions, any one of which may be + meant when we ask whether introspection is a source of knowledge. The + three questions are as follows: + </p> + <p> + (1) Can we observe anything about ourselves which we cannot observe about + other people, or is everything we can observe PUBLIC, in the sense that + another could also observe it if suitably placed? + </p> + <p> + (2) Does everything that we can observe obey the laws of physics and form + part of the physical world, or can we observe certain things that lie + outside physics? + </p> + <p> + (3) Can we observe anything which differs in its intrinsic nature from the + constituents of the physical world, or is everything that we can observe + composed of elements intrinsically similar to the constituents of what is + called matter? + </p> + <p> + Any one of these three questions may be used to define introspection. I + should favour introspection in the sense of the first question, i.e. I + think that some of the things we observe cannot, even theoretically, be + observed by any one else. The second question, tentatively and for the + present, I should answer in favour of introspection; I think that images, + in the actual condition of science, cannot be brought under the causal + laws of physics, though perhaps ultimately they may be. The third question + I should answer adversely to introspection I think that observation shows + us nothing that is not composed of sensations and images, and that images + differ from sensations in their causal laws, not intrinsically. I shall + deal with the three questions successively. + </p> + <p> + (1) PUBLICITY OR PRIVACY OF WHAT IS OBSERVED. Confining ourselves, for the + moment, to sensations, we find that there are different degrees of + publicity attaching to different sorts of sensations. If you feel a + toothache when the other people in the room do not, you are in no way + surprised; but if you hear a clap of thunder when they do not, you begin + to be alarmed as to your mental condition. Sight and hearing are the most + public of the senses; smell only a trifle less so; touch, again, a trifle + less, since two people can only touch the same spot successively, not + simultaneously. Taste has a sort of semi-publicity, since people seem to + experience similar taste-sensations when they eat similar foods; but the + publicity is incomplete, since two people cannot eat actually the same + piece of food. + </p> + <p> + But when we pass on to bodily sensations—headache, toothache, + hunger, thirst, the feeling of fatigue, and so on—we get quite away + from publicity, into a region where other people can tell us what they + feel, but we cannot directly observe their feeling. As a natural result of + this state of affairs, it has come to be thought that the public senses + give us knowledge of the outer world, while the private senses only give + us knowledge as to our own bodies. As regards privacy, all images, of + whatever sort, belong with the sensations which only give knowledge of our + own bodies, i.e. each is only observable by one observer. This is the + reason why images of sight and hearing are more obviously different from + sensations of sight and hearing than images of bodily sensations are from + bodily sensations; and that is why the argument in favour of images is + more conclusive in such cases as sight and hearing than in such cases as + inner speech. + </p> + <p> + The whole distinction of privacy and publicity, however, so long as we + confine ourselves to sensations, is one of degree, not of kind. No two + people, there is good empirical reason to think, ever have exactly similar + sensations related to the same physical object at the same moment; on the + other hand, even the most private sensation has correlations which would + theoretically enable another observer to infer it. + </p> + <p> + That no sensation is ever completely public, results from differences of + point of view. Two people looking at the same table do not get the same + sensation, because of perspective and the way the light falls. They get + only correlated sensations. Two people listening to the same sound do not + hear exactly the same thing, because one is nearer to the source of the + sound than the other, one has better hearing than the other, and so on. + Thus publicity in sensations consists, not in having PRECISELY similar + sensations, but in having more or less similar sensations correlated + according to ascertainable laws. The sensations which strike us as public + are those where the correlated sensations are very similar and the + correlations are very easy to discover. But even the most private + sensations have correlations with things that others can observe. The + dentist does not observe your ache, but he can see the cavity which causes + it, and could guess that you are suffering even if you did not tell him. + This fact, however, cannot be used, as Watson would apparently wish, to + extrude from science observations which are private to one observer, since + it is by means of many such observations that correlations are + established, e.g. between toothaches and cavities. Privacy, therefore does + not by itself make a datum unamenable to scientific treatment. On this + point, the argument against introspection must be rejected. + </p> + <p> + (2) DOES EVERYTHING OBSERVABLE OBEY THE LAWS OF PHYSICS? We come now to + the second ground of objection to introspection, namely, that its data do + not obey the laws of physics. This, though less emphasized, is, I think, + an objection which is really more strongly felt than the objection of + privacy. And we obtain a definition of introspection more in harmony with + usage if we define it as observation of data not subject to physical laws + than if we define it by means of privacy. No one would regard a man as + introspective because he was conscious of having a stomach ache. Opponents + of introspection do not mean to deny the obvious fact that we can observe + bodily sensations which others cannot observe. For example, Knight Dunlap + contends that images are really muscular contractions,* and evidently + regards our awareness of muscular contractions as not coming under the + head of introspection. I think it will be found that the essential + characteristic of introspective data, in the sense which now concerns us, + has to do with LOCALIZATION: either they are not localized at all, or they + are localized, like visual images, in a place already physically occupied + by something which would be inconsistent with them if they were regarded + as part of the physical world. If you have a visual image of your friend + sitting in a chair which in fact is empty, you cannot locate the image in + your body, because it is visual, nor (as a physical phenomenon) in the + chair, because the chair, as a physical object, is empty. Thus it seems to + follow that the physical world does not include all that we are aware of, + and that images, which are introspective data, have to be regarded, for + the present, as not obeying the laws of physics; this is, I think, one of + the chief reasons why an attempt is made to reject them. I shall try to + show in Lecture VIII that the purely empirical reasons for accepting + images are overwhelming. But we cannot be nearly so certain that they will + not ultimately be brought under the laws of physics. Even if this should + happen, however, they would still be distinguishable from sensations by + their proximate causal laws, as gases remain distinguishable from solids. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * "Psychological Review," 1916, "Thought-Content and + Feeling," p. 59. See also ib., 1912, "The Nature of + Perceived Relations," where he says: "'Introspection,' + divested of its mythological suggestion of the observing of + consciousness, is really the observation of bodily + sensations (sensibles) and feelings (feelables)"(p. 427 n.). +</pre> + <p> + (3) CAN WE OBSERVE ANYTHING INTRINSICALLY DIFFERENT FROM SENSATIONS? We + come now to our third question concerning introspection. It is commonly + thought that by looking within we can observe all sorts of things that are + radically different from the constituents of the physical world, e.g. + thoughts, beliefs, desires, pleasures, pains and emotions. The difference + between mind and matter is increased partly by emphasizing these supposed + introspective data, partly by the supposition that matter is composed of + atoms or electrons or whatever units physics may at the moment prefer. As + against this latter supposition, I contend that the ultimate constituents + of matter are not atoms or electrons, but sensations, and other things + similar to sensations as regards extent and duration. As against the view + that introspection reveals a mental world radically different from + sensations, I propose to argue that thoughts, beliefs, desires, pleasures, + pains and emotions are all built up out of sensations and images alone, + and that there is reason to think that images do not differ from + sensations in their intrinsic character. We thus effect a mutual + rapprochement of mind and matter, and reduce the ultimate data of + introspection (in our second sense) to images alone. On this third view of + the meaning of introspection, therefore, our decision is wholly against + it. + </p> + <p> + There remain two points to be considered concerning introspection. The + first is as to how far it is trustworthy; the second is as to whether, + even granting that it reveals no radically different STUFF from that + revealed by what might be called external perception, it may not reveal + different RELATIONS, and thus acquire almost as much importance as is + traditionally assigned to it. + </p> + <p> + To begin with the trustworthiness of introspection. It is common among + certain schools to regard the knowledge of our own mental processes as + incomparably more certain than our knowledge of the "external" world; this + view is to be found in the British philosophy which descends from Hume, + and is present, somewhat veiled, in Kant and his followers. There seems no + reason whatever to accept this view. Our spontaneous, unsophisticated + beliefs, whether as to ourselves or as to the outer world, are always + extremely rash and very liable to error. The acquisition of caution is + equally necessary and equally difficult in both directions. Not only are + we often un aware of entertaining a belief or desire which exists in us; + we are often actually mistaken. The fallibility of introspection as + regards what we desire is made evident by psycho-analysis; its fallibility + as to what we know is easily demonstrated. An autobiography, when + confronted by a careful editor with documentary evidence, is usually found + to be full of obviously inadvertent errors. Any of us confronted by a + forgotten letter written some years ago will be astonished to find how + much more foolish our opinions were than we had remembered them as being. + And as to the analysis of our mental operations—believing, desiring, + willing, or what not—introspection unaided gives very little help: + it is necessary to construct hypotheses and test them by their + consequences, just as we do in physical science. Introspection, therefore, + though it is one among our sources of knowledge, is not, in isolation, in + any degree more trustworthy than "external" perception. + </p> + <p> + I come now to our second question: Does introspection give us materials + for the knowledge of relations other than those arrived at by reflecting + upon external perception? It might be contended that the essence of what + is "mental" consists of relations, such as knowing for example, and that + our knowledge concerning these essentially mental relations is entirely + derived from introspection. If "knowing" were an unanalysable relation, + this view would be incontrovertible, since clearly no such relation forms + part of the subject matter of physics. But it would seem that "knowing" is + really various relations, all of them complex. Therefore, until they have + been analysed, our present question must remain unanswered I shall return + to it at the end of the present course of lectures. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0010" id="link2H_4_0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LECTURE VII. THE DEFINITION OF PERCEPTION + </h2> + <p> + In Lecture V we found reason to think that the ultimate constituents* of + the world do not have the characteristics of either mind or matter as + ordinarily understood: they are not solid persistent objects moving + through space, nor are they fragments of "consciousness." But we found two + ways of grouping particulars, one into "things" or "pieces of matter," the + other into series of "perspectives," each series being what may be called + a "biography." Before we can define either sensations or images, it is + necessary to consider this twofold classification in somewhat greater + detail, and to derive from it a definition of perception. It should be + said that, in so far as the classification assumes the whole world of + physics (including its unperceived portions), it contains hypothetical + elements. But we will not linger on the grounds for admitting these, which + belong to the philosophy of physics rather than of psychology. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * When I speak of "ultimate constituents," I do not mean + necessarily such as are theoretically incapable of analysis, + but only such as, at present, we can see no means of + analysing. I speak of such constituents as "particulars," or + as "RELATIVE particulars" when I wish to emphasize the fact + that they may be themselves complex. +</pre> + <p> + The physical classification of particulars collects together all those + that are aspects of one "thing." Given any one particular, it is found + often (we do not say always) that there are a number of other particulars + differing from this one in gradually increasing degrees. Those (or some of + those) that differ from it only very slightly will be found to differ + approximately according to certain laws which may be called, in a + generalized sense, the laws of "perspective"; they include the ordinary + laws of perspective as a special case. This approximation grows more and + more nearly exact as the difference grows less; in technical language, the + laws of perspective account for the differences to the first order of + small quantities, and other laws are only required to account for + second-order differences. That is to say, as the difference diminishes, + the part of the difference which is not according to the laws of + perspective diminishes much more rapidly, and bears to the total + difference a ratio which tends towards zero as both are made smaller and + smaller. By this means we can theoretically collect together a number of + particulars which may be defined as the "aspects" or "appearances" of one + thing at one time. If the laws of perspective were sufficiently known, the + connection between different aspects would be expressed in differential + equations. + </p> + <p> + This gives us, so far, only those particulars which constitute one thing + at one time. This set of particulars may be called a "momentary thing." To + define that series of "momentary things" that constitute the successive + states of one thing is a problem involving the laws of dynamics. These + give the laws governing the changes of aspects from one time to a slightly + later time, with the same sort of differential approximation to exactness + as we obtained for spatially neighbouring aspects through the laws of + perspective. Thus a momentary thing is a set of particulars, while a thing + (which may be identified with the whole history of the thing) is a series + of such sets of particulars. The particulars in one set are collected + together by the laws of perspective; the successive sets are collected + together by the laws of dynamics. This is the view of the world which is + appropriate to traditional physics. + </p> + <p> + The definition of a "momentary thing" involves problems concerning time, + since the particulars constituting a momentary thing will not be all + simultaneous, but will travel outward from the thing with the velocity of + light (in case the thing is in vacuo). There are complications connected + with relativity, but for our present purpose they are not vital, and I + shall ignore them. + </p> + <p> + Instead of first collecting together all the particulars constituting a + momentary thing, and then forming the series of successive sets, we might + have first collected together a series of successive aspects related by + the laws of dynamics, and then have formed the set of such series related + by the laws of perspective. To illustrate by the case of an actor on the + stage: our first plan was to collect together all the aspects which he + presents to different spectators at one time, and then to form the series + of such sets. Our second plan is first to collect together all the aspects + which he presents successively to a given spectator, and then to do the + same thing for the other spectators, thus forming a set of series instead + of a series of sets. The first plan tells us what he does; the second the + impressions he produces. This second way of classifying particulars is one + which obviously has more relevance to psychology than the other. It is + partly by this second method of classification that we obtain definitions + of one "experience" or "biography" or "person." This method of + classification is also essential to the definition of sensations and + images, as I shall endeavour to prove later on. But we must first amplify + the definition of perspectives and biographies. + </p> + <p> + In our illustration of the actor, we spoke, for the moment, as though each + spectator's mind were wholly occupied by the one actor. If this were the + case, it might be possible to define the biography of one spectator as a + series of successive aspects of the actor related according to the laws of + dynamics. But in fact this is not the case. We are at all times during our + waking life receiving a variety of impressions, which are aspects of a + variety of things. We have to consider what binds together two + simultaneous sensations in one person, or, more generally, any two + occurrences which forte part of one experience. We might say, adhering to + the standpoint of physics, that two aspects of different things belong to + the same perspective when they are in the same place. But this would not + really help us, since a "place" has not yet been defined. Can we define + what is meant by saying that two aspects are "in the same place," without + introducing anything beyond the laws of perspective and dynamics? + </p> + <p> + I do not feel sure whether it is possible to frame such a definition or + not; accordingly I shall not assume that it is possible, but shall seek + other characteristics by which a perspective or biography may be defined. + </p> + <p> + When (for example) we see one man and hear another speaking at the same + time, what we see and what we hear have a relation which we can perceive, + which makes the two together form, in some sense, one experience. It is + when this relation exists that two occurrences become associated. Semon's + "engram" is formed by all that we experience at one time. He speaks of two + parts of this total as having the relation of "Nebeneinander" (M. 118; + M.E. 33 ff.), which is reminiscent of Herbart's "Zusammen." I think the + relation may be called simply "simultaneity." It might be said that at any + moment all sorts of things that are not part of my experience are + happening in the world, and that therefore the relation we are seeking to + define cannot be merely simultaneity. This, however, would be an error—the + sort of error that the theory of relativity avoids. There is not one + universal time, except by an elaborate construction; there are only local + times, each of which may be taken to be the time within one biography. + Accordingly, if I am (say) hearing a sound, the only occurrences that are, + in any simple sense, simultaneous with my sensation are events in my + private world, i.e. in my biography. We may therefore define the + "perspective" to which the sensation in question belongs as the set of + particulars that are simultaneous with this sensation. And similarly we + may define the "biography" to which the sensation belongs as the set of + particulars that are earlier or later than, or simultaneous with, the + given sensation. Moreover, the very same definitions can be applied to + particulars which are not sensations. They are actually required for the + theory of relativity, if we are to give a philosophical explanation of + what is meant by "local time" in that theory The relations of simultaneity + and succession are known to us in our own experience; they may be + analysable, but that does not affect their suitability for defining + perspectives and biographies. Such time-relations as can be constructed + between events in different biographies are of a different kind: they are + not experienced, and are merely logical, being designed to afford + convenient ways of stating the correlations between different biographies. + </p> + <p> + It is not only by time-relations that the parts of one biography are + collected together in the case of living beings. In this case there are + the mnemic phenomena which constitute the unity of one "experience," and + transform mere occurrences into "experiences." I have already dwelt upon + the importance of mnemic phenomena for psychology, and shall not enlarge + upon them now, beyond observing that they are what transforms a biography + (in our technical sense) into a life. It is they that give the continuity + of a "person" or a "mind." But there is no reason to suppose that mnemic + phenomena are associated with biographies except in the case of animals + and plants. + </p> + <p> + Our two-fold classification of particulars gives rise to the dualism of + body and biography in regard to everything in the universe, and not only + in regard to living things. This arises as follows. Every particular of + the sort considered by physics is a member of two groups (1) The group of + particulars constituting the other aspects of the same physical object; + (2) The group of particulars that have direct time-relations to the given + particular. + </p> + <p> + Each of these is associated with a place. When I look at a star, my + sensation is (1) A member of the group of particulars which is the star, + and which is associated with the place where the star is; (2) A member of + the group of particulars which is my biography, and which is associated + with the place where I am.* + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + *I have explained elsewhere the manner in which space is + constructed on this theory, and in which the position of a + perspective is brought into relation with the position of a + physical object ("Our Knowledge of the External World," + Lecture III, pp. 90, 91). +</pre> + <p> + The result is that every particular of the kind relevant to physics is + associated with TWO places; e.g. my sensation of the star is associated + with the place where I am and with the place where the star is. This + dualism has nothing to do with any "mind" that I may be supposed to + possess; it exists in exactly the same sense if I am replaced by a + photographic plate. We may call the two places the active and passive + places respectively.* Thus in the case of a perception or photograph of a + star, the active place is the place where the star is, while the passive + place is the place where the percipient or photographic plate is. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * I use these as mere names; I do not want to introduce any + notion of "activity." +</pre> + <p> + We can thus, without departing from physics, collect together all the + particulars actively at a given place, or all the particulars passively at + a given place. In our own case, the one group is our body (or our brain), + while the other is our mind, in so far as it consists of perceptions. In + the case of the photographic plate, the first group is the plate as dealt + with by physics, the second the aspect of the heavens which it + photographs. (For the sake of schematic simplicity, I am ignoring various + complications connected with time, which require some tedious but + perfectly feasible elaborations.) Thus what may be called subjectivity in + the point of view is not a distinctive peculiarity of mind: it is present + just as much in the photographic plate. And the photographic plate has its + biography as well as its "matter." But this biography is an affair of + physics, and has none of the peculiar characteristics by which "mental" + phenomena are distinguished, with the sole exception of subjectivity. + </p> + <p> + Adhering, for the moment, to the standpoint of physics, we may define a + "perception" of an object as the appearance of the object from a place + where there is a brain (or, in lower animals, some suitable nervous + structure), with sense-organs and nerves forming part of the intervening + medium. Such appearances of objects are distinguished from appearances in + other places by certain peculiarities, namely: + </p> + <p> + (1) They give rise to mnemic phenomena; + </p> + <p> + (2) They are themselves affected by mnemic phenomena. + </p> + <p> + That is to say, they may be remembered and associated or influence our + habits, or give rise to images, etc., and they are themselves different + from what they would have been if our past experience had been different—for + example, the effect of a spoken sentence upon the hearer depends upon + whether the hearer knows the language or not, which is a question of past + experience. It is these two characteristics, both connected with mnemic + phenomena, that distinguish perceptions from the appearances of objects in + places where there is no living being. + </p> + <p> + Theoretically, though often not practically, we can, in our perception of + an object, separate the part which is due to past experience from the part + which proceeds without mnemic influences out of the character of the + object. We may define as "sensation" that part which proceeds in this way, + while the remainder, which is a mnemic phenomenon, will have to be added + to the sensation to make up what is called the "perception." According to + this definition, the sensation is a theoretical core in the actual + experience; the actual experience is the perception. It is obvious that + there are grave difficulties in carrying out these definitions, but we + will not linger over them. We have to pass, as soon as we can, from the + physical standpoint, which we have been hitherto adopting, to the + standpoint of psychology, in which we make more use of introspection in + the first of the three senses discussed in the preceding lecture. + </p> + <p> + But before making the transition, there are two points which must be made + clear. First: Everything outside my own personal biography is outside my + experience; therefore if anything can be known by me outside my biography, + it can only be known in one of two ways: + </p> + <p> + (1) By inference from things within my biography, or + </p> + <p> + (2) By some a priori principle independent of experience. + </p> + <p> + I do not myself believe that anything approaching certainty is to be + attained by either of these methods, and therefore whatever lies outside + my personal biography must be regarded, theoretically, as hypothesis. The + theoretical argument for adopting the hypothesis is that it simplifies the + statement of the laws according to which events happen in our experience. + But there is no very good ground for supposing that a simple law is more + likely to be true than a complicated law, though there is good ground for + assuming a simple law in scientific practice, as a working hypothesis, if + it explains the facts as well as another which is less simple. Belief in + the existence of things outside my own biography exists antecedently to + evidence, and can only be destroyed, if at all, by a long course of + philosophic doubt. For purposes of science, it is justified practically by + the simplification which it introduces into the laws of physics. But from + the standpoint of theoretical logic it must be regarded as a prejudice, + not as a well-grounded theory. With this proviso, I propose to continue + yielding to the prejudice. + </p> + <p> + The second point concerns the relating of our point of view to that which + regards sensations as caused by stimuli external to the nervous system (or + at least to the brain), and distinguishes images as "centrally excited," + i.e. due to causes in the brain which cannot be traced back to anything + affecting the sense-organs. It is clear that, if our analysis of physical + objects has been valid, this way of defining sensations needs + reinterpretation. It is also clear that we must be able to find such a new + interpretation if our theory is to be admissible. + </p> + <p> + To make the matter clear, we will take the simplest possible illustration. + Consider a certain star, and suppose for the moment that its size is + negligible. That is to say, we will regard it as, for practical purposes, + a luminous point. Let us further suppose that it exists only for a very + brief time, say a second. Then, according to physics, what happens is that + a spherical wave of light travels outward from the star through space, + just as, when you drop a stone into a stagnant pond, ripples travel + outward from the place where the stone hit the water. The wave of light + travels with a certain very nearly constant velocity, roughly 300,000 + kilometres per second. This velocity may be ascertained by sending a flash + of light to a mirror, and observing how long it takes before the reflected + flash reaches you, just as the velocity of sound may be ascertained by + means of an echo. + </p> + <p> + What it is that happens when a wave of light reaches a given place we + cannot tell, except in the sole case when the place in question is a brain + connected with an eye which is turned in the right direction. In this one + very special case we know what happens: we have the sensation called + "seeing the star." In all other cases, though we know (more or less + hypothetically) some of the correlations and abstract properties of the + appearance of the star, we do not know the appearance itself. Now you may, + for the sake of illustration, compare the different appearances of the + star to the conjugation of a Greek verb, except that the number of its + parts is really infinite, and not only apparently so to the despairing + schoolboy. In vacuo, the parts are regular, and can be derived from the + (imaginary) root according to the laws of grammar, i.e. of perspective. + The star being situated in empty space, it may be defined, for purposes of + physics, as consisting of all those appearances which it presents in + vacuo, together with those which, according to the laws of perspective, it + would present elsewhere if its appearances elsewhere were regular. This is + merely the adaptation of the definition of matter which I gave in an + earlier lecture. The appearance of a star at a certain place, if it is + regular, does not require any cause or explanation beyond the existence of + the star. Every regular appearance is an actual member of the system which + is the star, and its causation is entirely internal to that system. We may + express this by saying that a regular appearance is due to the star alone, + and is actually part of the star, in the sense in which a man is part of + the human race. + </p> + <p> + But presently the light of the star reaches our atmosphere. It begins to + be refracted, and dimmed by mist, and its velocity is slightly diminished. + At last it reaches a human eye, where a complicated process takes place, + ending in a sensation which gives us our grounds for believing in all that + has gone before. Now, the irregular appearances of the star are not, + strictly speaking, members of the system which is the star, according to + our definition of matter. The irregular appearances, however, are not + merely irregular: they proceed according to laws which can be stated in + terms of the matter through which the light has passed on its way. The + sources of an irregular appearance are therefore twofold: + </p> + <p> + (1) The object which is appearing irregularly; + </p> + <p> + 2) The intervening medium. + </p> + <p> + It should be observed that, while the conception of a regular appearance + is perfectly precise, the conception of an irregular appearance is one + capable of any degree of vagueness. When the distorting influence of the + medium is sufficiently great, the resulting particular can no longer be + regarded as an appearance of an object, but must be treated on its own + account. This happens especially when the particular in question cannot be + traced back to one object, but is a blend of two or more. This case is + normal in perception: we see as one what the microscope or telescope + reveals to be many different objects. The notion of perception is + therefore not a precise one: we perceive things more or less, but always + with a very considerable amount of vagueness and confusion. + </p> + <p> + In considering irregular appearances, there are certain very natural + mistakes which must be avoided. In order that a particular may count as an + irregular appearance of a certain object, it is not necessary that it + should bear any resemblance to the regular appearances as regard its + intrinsic qualities. All that is necessary is that it should be derivable + from the regular appearances by the laws which express the distorting + influence of the medium. When it is so derivable, the particular in + question may be regarded as caused by the regular appearances, and + therefore by the object itself, together with the modifications resulting + from the medium. In other cases, the particular in question may, in the + same sense, be regarded as caused by several objects together with the + medium; in this case, it may be called a confused appearance of several + objects. If it happens to be in a brain, it may be called a confused + perception of these objects. All actual perception is confused to a + greater or less extent. + </p> + <p> + We can now interpret in terms of our theory the distinction between those + mental occurrences which are said to have an external stimulus, and those + which are said to be "centrally excited," i.e. to have no stimulus + external to the brain. When a mental occurrence can be regarded as an + appearance of an object external to the brain, however irregular, or even + as a confused appearance of several such objects, then we may regard it as + having for its stimulus the object or objects in question, or their + appearances at the sense-organ concerned. When, on the other hand, a + mental occurrence has not sufficient connection with objects external to + the brain to be regarded as an appearance of such objects, then its + physical causation (if any) will have to be sought in the brain. In the + former case it can be called a perception; in the latter it cannot be so + called. But the distinction is one of degree, not of kind. Until this is + realized, no satisfactory theory of perception, sensation, or imagination + is possible. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0011" id="link2H_4_0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LECTURE VIII. SENSATIONS AND IMAGES + </h2> + <p> + The dualism of mind and matter, if we have been right so far, cannot be + allowed as metaphysically valid. Nevertheless, we seem to find a certain + dualism, perhaps not ultimate, within the world as we observe it. The + dualism is not primarily as to the stuff of the world, but as to causal + laws. On this subject we may again quote William James. He points out that + when, as we say, we merely "imagine" things, there are no such effects as + would ensue if the things were what we call "real." He takes the case of + imagining a fire. + </p> + <p> + "I make for myself an experience of blazing fire; I place it near my body; + but it does not warm me in the least. I lay a stick upon it and the stick + either burns or remains green, as I please. I call up water, and pour it + on the fire, and absolutely no difference ensues. I account for all such + facts by calling this whole train of experiences unreal, a mental train. + Mental fire is what won't burn real sticks; mental water is what won't + necessarily (though of course it may) put out even a mental fire.... With + 'real' objects, on the contrary, consequences always accrue; and thus the + real experiences get sifted from the mental ones, the things from our + thoughts of them, fanciful or true, and precipitated together as the + stable part of the whole experience—chaos, under the name of the + physical world."* + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * "Essays in Radical Empiricism," pp. 32-3. +</pre> + <p> + In this passage James speaks, by mere inadvertence, as though the + phenomena which he is describing as "mental" had NO effects. This is, of + course, not the case: they have their effects, just as much as physical + phenomena do, but their effects follow different laws. For example, + dreams, as Freud has shown, are just as much subject to laws as are the + motions of the planets. But the laws are different: in a dream you may be + transported from one place to another in a moment, or one person may turn + into another under your eyes. Such differences compel you to distinguish + the world of dreams from the physical world. + </p> + <p> + If the two sorts of causal laws could be sharply distinguished, we could + call an occurrence "physical" when it obeys causal laws appropriate to the + physical world, and "mental" when it obeys causal laws appropriate to the + mental world. Since the mental world and the physical world interact, + there would be a boundary between the two: there would be events which + would have physical causes and mental effects, while there would be others + which would have mental causes and physical effects. Those that have + physical causes and mental effects we should define as "sensations." Those + that have mental causes and physical effects might perhaps be identified + with what we call voluntary movements; but they do not concern us at + present. + </p> + <p> + These definitions would have all the precision that could be desired if + the distinction between physical and psychological causation were clear + and sharp. As a matter of fact, however, this distinction is, as yet, by + no means sharp. It is possible that, with fuller knowledge, it will be + found to be no more ultimate than the distinction between the laws of + gases and the laws of rigid bodies. It also suffers from the fact that an + event may be an effect of several causes according to several causal laws + we cannot, in general, point to anything unique as THE cause of + such-and-such an event. And finally it is by no means certain that the + peculiar causal laws which govern mental events are not really + physiological. The law of habit, which is one of the most distinctive, may + be fully explicable in terms of the peculiarities of nervous tissue, and + these peculiarities, in turn, may be explicable by the laws of physics. It + seems, therefore, that we are driven to a different kind of definition. It + is for this reason that it was necessary to develop the definition of + perception. With this definition, we can define a sensation as the + non-mnemic elements in a perception. + </p> + <p> + When, following our definition, we try to decide what elements in our + experience are of the nature of sensations, we find more difficulty than + might have been expected. Prima facie, everything is sensation that comes + to us through the senses: the sights we see, the sounds we hear, the + smells we smell, and so on; also such things as headache or the feeling of + muscular strain. But in actual fact so much interpretation, so much of + habitual correlation, is mixed with all such experiences, that the core of + pure sensation is only to be extracted by careful investigation. To take a + simple illustration: if you go to the theatre in your own country, you + seem to hear equally well in the stalls or the dress circle; in either + case you think you miss nothing. But if you go in a foreign country where + you have a fair knowledge of the language, you will seem to have grown + partially deaf, and you will find it necessary to be much nearer the stage + than you would need to be in your own country. The reason is that, in + hearing our own language spoken, we quickly and unconsciously fill out + what we really hear with inferences to what the man must be saying, and we + never realize that we have not heard the words we have merely inferred. In + a foreign language, these inferences are more difficult, and we are more + dependent upon actual sensation. If we found ourselves in a foreign world, + where tables looked like cushions and cushions like tables, we should + similarly discover how much of what we think we see is really inference. + Every fairly familiar sensation is to us a sign of the things that usually + go with it, and many of these things will seem to form part of the + sensation. I remember in the early days of motor-cars being with a friend + when a tyre burst with a loud report. He thought it was a pistol, and + supported his opinion by maintaining that he had seen the flash. But of + course there had been no flash. Nowadays no one sees a flash when a tyre + bursts. + </p> + <p> + In order, therefore, to arrive at what really is sensation in an + occurrence which, at first sight, seems to contain nothing else, we have + to pare away all that is due to habit or expectation or interpretation. + This is a matter for the psychologist, and by no means an easy matter. For + our purposes, it is not important to determine what exactly is the + sensational core in any case; it is only important to notice that there + certainly is a sensational core, since habit, expectation and + interpretation are diversely aroused on diverse occasions, and the + diversity is clearly due to differences in what is presented to the + senses. When you open your newspaper in the morning, the actual sensations + of seeing the print form a very minute part of what goes on in you, but + they are the starting-point of all the rest, and it is through them that + the newspaper is a means of information or mis-information. Thus, although + it may be difficult to determine what exactly is sensation in any given + experience, it is clear that there is sensation, unless, like Leibniz, we + deny all action of the outer world upon us. + </p> + <p> + Sensations are obviously the source of our knowledge of the world, + including our own body. It might seem natural to regard a sensation as + itself a cognition, and until lately I did so regard it. When, say, I see + a person I know coming towards me in the street, it SEEMS as though the + mere seeing were knowledge. It is of course undeniable that knowledge + comes THROUGH the seeing, but I think it is a mistake to regard the mere + seeing itself as knowledge. If we are so to regard it, we must distinguish + the seeing from what is seen: we must say that, when we see a patch of + colour of a certain shape, the patch of colour is one thing and our seeing + of it is another. This view, however, demands the admission of the + subject, or act, in the sense discussed in our first lecture. If there is + a subject, it can have a relation to the patch of colour, namely, the sort + of relation which we might call awareness. In that case the sensation, as + a mental event, will consist of awareness of the colour, while the colour + itself will remain wholly physical, and may be called the sense-datum, to + distinguish it from the sensation. The subject, however, appears to be a + logical fiction, like mathematical points and instants. It is introduced, + not because observation reveals it, but because it is linguistically + convenient and apparently demanded by grammar. Nominal entities of this + sort may or may not exist, but there is no good ground for assuming that + they do. The functions that they appear to perform can always be performed + by classes or series or other logical constructions, consisting of less + dubious entities. If we are to avoid a perfectly gratuitous assumption, we + must dispense with the subject as one of the actual ingredients of the + world. But when we do this, the possibility of distinguishing the + sensation from the sense-datum vanishes; at least I see no way of + preserving the distinction. Accordingly the sensation that we have when we + see a patch of colour simply is that patch of colour, an actual + constituent of the physical world, and part of what physics is concerned + with. A patch of colour is certainly not knowledge, and therefore we + cannot say that pure sensation is cognitive. Through its psychological + effects, it is the cause of cognitions, partly by being itself a sign of + things that are correlated with it, as e.g. sensations of sight and touch + are correlated, and partly by giving rise to images and memories after the + sensation is faded. But in itself the pure sensation is not cognitive. + </p> + <p> + In the first lecture we considered the view of Brentano, that "we may + define psychical phenomena by saying that they are phenomena which + intentionally contain an object." We saw reasons to reject this view in + general; we are now concerned to show that it must be rejected in the + particular case of sensations. The kind of argument which formerly made me + accept Brentano's view in this case was exceedingly simple. When I see a + patch of colour, it seemed to me that the colour is not psychical, but + physical, while my seeing is not physical, but psychical. Hence I + concluded that the colour is something other than my seeing of the colour. + This argument, to me historically, was directed against idealism: the + emphatic part of it was the assertion that the colour is physical, not + psychical. I shall not trouble you now with the grounds for holding as + against Berkeley that the patch of colour is physical; I have set them + forth before, and I see no reason to modify them. But it does not follow + that the patch of colour is not also psychical, unless we assume that the + physical and the psychical cannot overlap, which I no longer consider a + valid assumption. If we admit—as I think we should—that the + patch of colour may be both physical and psychical, the reason for + distinguishing the sense-datum from the sensation disappears, and we may + say that the patch of colour and our sensation in seeing it are identical. + </p> + <p> + This is the view of William James, Professor Dewey, and the American + realists. Perceptions, says Professor Dewey, are not per se cases of + knowledge, but simply natural events with no more knowledge status than + (say) a shower. "Let them [the realists] try the experiment of conceiving + perceptions as pure natural events, not cases of awareness or + apprehension, and they will be surprised to see how little they miss."* I + think he is right in this, except in supposing that the realists will be + surprised. Many of them already hold the view he is advocating, and others + are very sympathetic to it. At any rate, it is the view which I shall + adopt in these lectures. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * Dewey, "Essays in Experimental Logic," pp. 253, 262. +</pre> + <p> + The stuff of the world, so far as we have experience of it, consists, on + the view that I am advocating, of innumerable transient particulars such + as occur in seeing, hearing, etc., together with images more or less + resembling these, of which I shall speak shortly. If physics is true, + there are, besides the particulars that we experience, others, probably + equally (or almost equally) transient, which make up that part of the + material world that does not come into the sort of contact with a living + body that is required to turn it into a sensation. But this topic belongs + to the philosophy of physics, and need not concern us in our present + inquiry. + </p> + <p> + Sensations are what is common to the mental and physical worlds; they may + be defined as the intersection of mind and matter. This is by no means a + new view; it is advocated, not only by the American authors I have + mentioned, but by Mach in his Analysis of Sensations, which was published + in 1886. The essence of sensation, according to the view I am advocating, + is its independence of past experience. It is a core in our actual + experiences, never existing in isolation except possibly in very young + infants. It is not itself knowledge, but it supplies the data for our + knowledge of the physical world, including our own bodies. + </p> + <p> + There are some who believe that our mental life is built up out of + sensations alone. This may be true; but in any case I think the only + ingredients required in addition to sensations are images. What images + are, and how they are to be defined, we have now to inquire. + </p> + <p> + The distinction between images and sensations might seem at first sight by + no means difficult. When we shut our eyes and call up pictures of familiar + scenes, we usually have no difficulty, so long as we remain awake, in + discriminating between what we are imagining and what is really seen. If + we imagine some piece of music that we know, we can go through it in our + mind from beginning to end without any discoverable tendency to suppose + that we are really hearing it. But although such cases are so clear that + no confusion seems possible, there are many others that are far more + difficult, and the definition of images is by no means an easy problem. + </p> + <p> + To begin with: we do not always know whether what we are experiencing is a + sensation or an image. The things we see in dreams when our eyes are shut + must count as images, yet while we are dreaming they seem like sensations. + Hallucinations often begin as persistent images, and only gradually + acquire that influence over belief that makes the patient regard them as + sensations. When we are listening for a faint sound—the striking of + a distant clock, or a horse's hoofs on the road—we think we hear it + many times before we really do, because expectation brings us the image, + and we mistake it for sensation. The distinction between images and + sensations is, therefore, by no means always obvious to inspection.* + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * On the distinction between images and sensation, cf. + Semon, "Die mnemischen Empfindungen," pp. 19-20. +</pre> + <p> + We may consider three different ways in which it has been sought to + distinguish images from sensations, namely: + </p> + <p> + (1) By the less degree of vividness in images; + </p> + <p> + (2) By our absence of belief in their "physical reality"; + </p> + <p> + (3) By the fact that their causes and effects are different from those of + sensations. + </p> + <p> + I believe the third of these to be the only universally applicable + criterion. The other two are applicable in very many cases, but cannot be + used for purposes of definition because they are liable to exceptions. + Nevertheless, they both deserve to be carefully considered. + </p> + <p> + (1) Hume, who gives the names "impressions" and "ideas" to what may, for + present purposes, be identified with our "sensations" and "images," speaks + of impressions as "those perceptions which enter with most force and + violence" while he defines ideas as "the faint images of these (i.e. of + impressions) in thinking and reasoning." His immediately following + observations, however, show the inadequacy of his criteria of "force" and + "faintness." He says: + </p> + <p> + "I believe it will not be very necessary to employ many words in + explaining this distinction. Every one of himself will readily perceive + the difference betwixt feeling and thinking. The common degrees of these + are easily distinguished, though it is not impossible but in particular + instances they may very nearly approach to each other. Thus in sleep, in a + fever, in madness, or in any very violent emotions of soul, our ideas may + approach to our impressions; as, on the other hand, it sometimes happens, + that our impressions are so faint and low that we cannot distinguish them + from our ideas. But notwithstanding this near resemblance in a few + instances, they are in general so very different, that no one can make a + scruple to rank them under distinct heads, and assign to each a peculiar + name to mark the difference" ("Treatise of Human Nature," Part I, Section + I). + </p> + <p> + I think Hume is right in holding that they should be ranked under distinct + heads, with a peculiar name for each. But by his own confession in the + above passage, his criterion for distinguishing them is not always + adequate. A definition is not sound if it only applies in cases where the + difference is glaring: the essential purpose of a definition is to provide + a mark which is applicable even in marginal cases—except, of course, + when we are dealing with a conception, like, e.g. baldness, which is one + of degree and has no sharp boundaries. But so far we have seen no reason + to think that the difference between sensations and images is only one of + degree. + </p> + <p> + Professor Stout, in his "Manual of Psychology," after discussing various + ways of distinguishing sensations and images, arrives at a view which is a + modification of Hume's. He says (I quote from the second edition): + </p> + <p> + "Our conclusion is that at bottom the distinction between image and + percept, as respectively faint and vivid states, is based on a difference + of quality. The percept has an aggressiveness which does not belong to the + image. It strikes the mind with varying degrees of force or liveliness + according to the varying intensity of the stimulus. This degree of force + or liveliness is part of what we ordinarily mean by the intensity of a + sensation. But this constituent of the intensity of sensations is absent + in mental imagery"(p. 419). + </p> + <p> + This view allows for the fact that sensations may reach any degree of + faintness—e.g. in the case of a just visible star or a just audible + sound—without becoming images, and that therefore mere faintness + cannot be the characteristic mark of images. After explaining the sudden + shock of a flash of lightning or a steam-whistle, Stout says that "no mere + image ever does strike the mind in this manner"(p. 417). But I believe + that this criterion fails in very much the same instances as those in + which Hume's criterion fails in its original form. Macbeth speaks of— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + that suggestion + Whose horrid image doth unfix my hair + And make my seated heart knock at my ribs + Against the use of nature. +</pre> + <p> + The whistle of a steam-engine could hardly have a stronger effect than + this. A very intense emotion will often bring with it—especially + where some future action or some undecided issue is involved—powerful + compelling images which may determine the whole course of life, sweeping + aside all contrary solicitations to the will by their capacity for + exclusively possessing the mind. And in all cases where images, originally + recognized as such, gradually pass into hallucinations, there must be just + that "force or liveliness" which is supposed to be always absent from + images. The cases of dreams and fever-delirium are as hard to adjust to + Professor Stout's modified criterion as to Hume's. I conclude therefore + that the test of liveliness, however applicable in ordinary instances, + cannot be used to define the differences between sensations and images. + </p> + <p> + (2) We might attempt to distinguish images from sensations by our absence + of belief in the "physical reality" of images. When we are aware that what + we are experiencing is an image, we do not give it the kind of belief that + we should give to a sensation: we do not think that it has the same power + of producing knowledge of the "external world." Images are "imaginary"; in + SOME sense they are "unreal." But this difference is hard to analyse or + state correctly. What we call the "unreality" of images requires + interpretation it cannot mean what would be expressed by saying "there's + no such thing." Images are just as truly part of the actual world as + sensations are. All that we really mean by calling an image "unreal" is + that it does not have the concomitants which it would have if it were a + sensation. When we call up a visual image of a chair, we do not attempt to + sit in it, because we know that, like Macbeth's dagger, it is not + "sensible to feeling as to sight"—i.e. it does not have the + correlations with tactile sensations which it would have if it were a + visual sensation and not merely a visual image. But this means that the + so-called "unreality" of images consists merely in their not obeying the + laws of physics, and thus brings us back to the causal distinction between + images and sensations. + </p> + <p> + This view is confirmed by the fact that we only feel images to be "unreal" + when we already know them to be images. Images cannot be defined by the + FEELING of unreality, because when we falsely believe an image to be a + sensation, as in the case of dreams, it FEELS just as real as if it were a + sensation. Our feeling of unreality results from our having already + realized that we are dealing with an image, and cannot therefore be the + definition of what we mean by an image. As soon as an image begins to + deceive us as to its status, it also deceives us as to its correlations, + which are what we mean by its "reality." + </p> + <p> + (3) This brings us to the third mode of distinguishing images from + sensations, namely, by their causes and effects. I believe this to be the + only valid ground of distinction. James, in the passage about the mental + fire which won't burn real sticks, distinguishes images by their effects, + but I think the more reliable distinction is by their causes. Professor + Stout (loc. cit., p. 127) says: "One characteristic mark of what we agree + in calling sensation is its mode of production. It is caused by what we + call a STIMULUS. A stimulus is always some condition external to the + nervous system itself and operating upon it." I think that this is the + correct view, and that the distinction between images and sensations can + only be made by taking account of their causation. Sensations come through + sense-organs, while images do not. We cannot have visual sensations in the + dark, or with our eyes shut, but we can very well have visual images under + these circumstances. Accordingly images have been defined as "centrally + excited sensations," i.e. sensations which have their physiological cause + in the brain only, not also in the sense-organs and the nerves that run + from the sense-organs to the brain. I think the phrase "centrally excited + sensations" assumes more than is necessary, since it takes it for granted + that an image must have a proximate physiological cause. This is probably + true, but it is an hypothesis, and for our purposes an unnecessary one. It + would seem to fit better with what we can immediately observe if we were + to say that an image is occasioned, through association, by a sensation or + another image, in other words that it has a mnemic cause—which does + not prevent it from also having a physical cause. And I think it will be + found that the causation of an image always proceeds according to mnemic + laws, i.e. that it is governed by habit and past experience. If you listen + to a man playing the pianola without looking at him, you will have images + of his hands on the keys as if he were playing the piano; if you suddenly + look at him while you are absorbed in the music, you will experience a + shock of surprise when you notice that his hands are not touching the + notes. Your image of his hands is due to the many times that you have + heard similar sounds and at the same time seen the player's hands on the + piano. When habit and past experience play this part, we are in the region + of mnemic as opposed to ordinary physical causation. And I think that, if + we could regard as ultimately valid the difference between physical and + mnemic causation, we could distinguish images from sensations as having + mnemic causes, though they may also have physical causes. Sensations, on + the other hand, will only have physical causes. + </p> + <p> + However this may be, the practically effective distinction between + sensations and images is that in the causation of sensations, but not of + images, the stimulation of nerves carrying an effect into the brain, + usually from the surface of the body, plays an essential part. And this + accounts for the fact that images and sensations cannot always be + distinguished by their intrinsic nature. + </p> + <p> + Images also differ from sensations as regards their effects. Sensations, + as a rule, have both physical and mental effects. As you watch the train + you meant to catch leaving the station, there are both the successive + positions of the train (physical effects) and the successive waves of fury + and disappointment (mental effects). Images, on the contrary, though they + MAY produce bodily movements, do so according to mnemic laws, not + according to the laws of physics. All their effects, of whatever nature, + follow mnemic laws. But this difference is less suitable for definition + than the difference as to causes. + </p> + <p> + Professor Watson, as a logical carrying-out of his behaviourist theory, + denies altogether that there are any observable phenomena such as images + are supposed to be. He replaces them all by faint sensations, and + especially by pronunciation of words sotto voce. When we "think" of a + table (say), as opposed to seeing it, what happens, according to him, is + usually that we are making small movements of the throat and tongue such + as would lead to our uttering the word "table" if they were more + pronounced. I shall consider his view again in connection with words; for + the present I am only concerned to combat his denial of images. This + denial is set forth both in his book on "Behavior" and in an article + called "Image and Affection in Behavior" in the "Journal of Philosophy, + Psychology and Scientific Methods," vol. x (July, 1913). It seems to me + that in this matter he has been betrayed into denying plain facts in the + interests of a theory, namely, the supposed impossibility of + introspection. I dealt with the theory in Lecture VI; for the present I + wish to reinforce the view that the facts are undeniable. + </p> + <p> + Images are of various sorts, according to the nature of the sensations + which they copy. Images of bodily movements, such as we have when we + imagine moving an arm or, on a smaller scale, pronouncing a word, might + possibly be explained away on Professor Watson's lines, as really + consisting in small incipient movements such as, if magnified and + prolonged, would be the movements we are said to be imagining. Whether + this is the case or not might even be decided experimentally. If there + were a delicate instrument for recording small movements in the mouth and + throat, we might place such an instrument in a person's mouth and then + tell him to recite a poem to himself, as far as possible only in + imagination. I should not be at all surprised if it were found that actual + small movements take place while he is "mentally" saying over the verses. + The point is important, because what is called "thought" consists mainly + (though I think not wholly) of inner speech. If Professor Watson is right + as regards inner speech, this whole region is transferred from imagination + to sensation. But since the question is capable of experimental decision, + it would be gratuitous rashness to offer an opinion while that decision is + lacking. + </p> + <p> + But visual and auditory images are much more difficult to deal with in + this way, because they lack the connection with physical events in the + outer world which belongs to visual and auditory sensations. Suppose, for + example, that I am sitting in my room, in which there is an empty + arm-chair. I shut my eyes, and call up a visual image of a friend sitting + in the arm-chair. If I thrust my image into the world of physics, it + contradicts all the usual physical laws. My friend reached the chair + without coming in at the door in the usual way; subsequent inquiry will + show that he was somewhere else at the moment. If regarded as a sensation, + my image has all the marks of the supernatural. My image, therefore, is + regarded as an event in me, not as having that position in the orderly + happenings of the public world that belongs to sensations. By saying that + it is an event in me, we leave it possible that it may be PHYSIOLOGICALLY + caused: its privacy may be only due to its connection with my body. But in + any case it is not a public event, like an actual person walking in at the + door and sitting down in my chair. And it cannot, like inner speech, be + regarded as a SMALL sensation, since it occupies just as large an area in + my visual field as the actual sensation would do. + </p> + <p> + Professor Watson says: "I should throw out imagery altogether and attempt + to show that all natural thought goes on in terms of sensori-motor + processes in the larynx." This view seems to me flatly to contradict + experience. If you try to persuade any uneducated person that she cannot + call up a visual picture of a friend sitting in a chair, but can only use + words describing what such an occurrence would be like, she will conclude + that you are mad. (This statement is based upon experiment.) Galton, as + every one knows, investigated visual imagery, and found that education + tends to kill it: the Fellows of the Royal Society turned out to have much + less of it than their wives. I see no reason to doubt his conclusion that + the habit of abstract pursuits makes learned men much inferior to the + average in power of visualizing, and much more exclusively occupied with + words in their "thinking." And Professor Watson is a very learned man. + </p> + <p> + I shall henceforth assume that the existence of images is admitted, and + that they are to be distinguished from sensations by their causes, as well + as, in a lesser degree, by their effects. In their intrinsic nature, + though they often differ from sensations by being more dim or vague or + faint, yet they do not always or universally differ from sensations in any + way that can be used for defining them. Their privacy need form no bar to + the scientific study of them, any more than the privacy of bodily + sensations does. Bodily sensations are admitted by even the most severe + critics of introspection, although, like images, they can only be observed + by one observer. It must be admitted, however, that the laws of the + appearance and disappearance of images are little known and difficult to + discover, because we are not assisted, as in the case of sensations, by + our knowledge of the physical world. + </p> + <p> + There remains one very important point concerning images, which will + occupy us much hereafter, and that is, their resemblance to previous + sensations. They are said to be "copies" of sensations, always as regards + the simple qualities that enter into them, though not always as regards + the manner in which these are put together. It is generally believed that + we cannot imagine a shade of colour that we have never seen, or a sound + that we have never heard. On this subject Hume is the classic. He says, in + the definitions already quoted: + </p> + <p> + "Those perceptions, which enter with most force and violence, we may name + IMPRESSIONS; and under this name I comprehend all our sensations, passions + and emotions, as they make their first appearance in the soul. By IDEAS I + mean the faint images of these in thinking and reasoning." + </p> + <p> + He next explains the difference between simple and complex ideas, and + explains that a complex idea may occur without any similar complex + impression. But as regards simple ideas, he states that "every simple idea + has a simple impression, which resembles it, and every simple impression a + correspondent idea." He goes on to enunciate the general principle "that + all our simple ideas in their first appearance are derived from simple + impressions, which are correspondent to them, and which they exactly + represent" ("Treatise of Human Nature," Part I, Section I). + </p> + <p> + It is this fact, that images resemble antecedent sensations, which enables + us to call them images "of" this or that. For the understanding of memory, + and of knowledge generally, the recognizable resemblance of images and + sensations is of fundamental importance. + </p> + <p> + There are difficulties in establishing Hume's principles, and doubts as to + whether it is exactly true. Indeed, he himself signalized an exception + immediately after stating his maxim. Nevertheless, it is impossible to + doubt that in the main simple images are copies of similar simple + sensations which have occurred earlier, and that the same is true of + complex images in all cases of memory as opposed to mere imagination. Our + power of acting with reference to what is sensibly absent is largely due + to this characteristic of images, although, as education advances, images + tend to be more and more replaced by words. We shall have much to say in + the next two lectures on the subject of images as copies of sensations. + What has been said now is merely by way of reminder that this is their + most notable characteristic. + </p> + <p> + I am by no means confident that the distinction between images and + sensations is ultimately valid, and I should be glad to be convinced that + images can be reduced to sensations of a peculiar kind. I think it is + clear, however, that, at any rate in the case of auditory and visual + images, they do differ from ordinary auditory and visual sensations, and + therefore form a recognizable class of occurrences, even if it should + prove that they can be regarded as a sub-class of sensations. This is all + that is necessary to validate the use of images to be made in the sequel. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0012" id="link2H_4_0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LECTURE IX. MEMORY + </h2> + <p> + Memory, which we are to consider to-day, introduces us to knowledge in one + of its forms. The analysis of knowledge will occupy us until the end of + the thirteenth lecture, and is the most difficult part of our whole + enterprise. + </p> + <p> + I do not myself believe that the analysis of knowledge can be effected + entirely by means of purely external observation, such as behaviourists + employ. I shall discuss this question in later lectures. In the present + lecture I shall attempt the analysis of memory-knowledge, both as an + introduction to the problem of knowledge in general, and because memory, + in some form, is presupposed in almost all other knowledge. Sensation, we + decided, is not a form of knowledge. It might, however, have been expected + that we should begin our discussion of knowledge with PERCEPTION, i.e. + with that integral experience of things in the environment, out of which + sensation is extracted by psychological analysis. What is called + perception differs from sensation by the fact that the sensational + ingredients bring up habitual associates—images and expectations of + their usual correlates—all of which are subjectively + indistinguishable from the sensation. The FACT of past experience is + essential in producing this filling-out of sensation, but not the + RECOLLECTION of past experience. The non-sensational elements in + perception can be wholly explained as the result of habit, produced by + frequent correlations. Perception, according to our definition in Lecture + VII, is no more a form of knowledge than sensation is, except in so far as + it involves expectations. The purely psychological problems which it + raises are not very difficult, though they have sometimes been rendered + artificially obscure by unwillingness to admit the fallibility of the + non-sensational elements of perception. On the other hand, memory raises + many difficult and very important problems, which it is necessary to + consider at the first possible moment. + </p> + <p> + One reason for treating memory at this early stage is that it seems to be + involved in the fact that images are recognized as "copies" of past + sensible experience. In the preceding lecture I alluded to Hume's + principle "that all our simple ideas in their first appearance are derived + from simple impressions, which are correspondent to them, and which they + exactly represent." Whether or not this principle is liable to exceptions, + everyone would agree that is has a broad measure of truth, though the word + "exactly" might seem an overstatement, and it might seem more correct to + say that ideas APPROXIMATELY represent impressions. Such modifications of + Hume's principle, however, do not affect the problem which I wish to + present for your consideration, namely: Why do we believe that images are, + sometimes or always, approximately or exactly, copies of sensations? What + sort of evidence is there? And what sort of evidence is logically + possible? The difficulty of this question arises through the fact that the + sensation which an image is supposed to copy is in the past when the image + exists, and can therefore only be known by memory, while, on the other + hand, memory of past sensations seems only possible by means of present + images. How, then, are we to find any way of comparing the present image + and the past sensation? The problem is just as acute if we say that images + differ from their prototypes as if we say that they resemble them; it is + the very possibility of comparison that is hard to understand.* We think + we can know that they are alike or different, but we cannot bring them + together in one experience and compare them. To deal with this problem, we + must have a theory of memory. In this way the whole status of images as + "copies" is bound up with the analysis of memory. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * How, for example, can we obtain such knowledge as the + following: "If we look at, say, a red nose and perceive it, + and after a little while ekphore, its memory-image, we note + immediately how unlike, in its likeness, this memory-image + is to the original perception" (A. Wohlgemuth, "On the + Feelings and their Neural Correlate with an Examination of + the Nature of Pain," "Journal of Psychology," vol. viii, + part iv, June, 1917). +</pre> + <p> + In investigating memory-beliefs, there are certain points which must be + borne in mind. In the first place, everything constituting a memory-belief + is happening now, not in that past time to which the belief is said to + refer. It is not logically necessary to the existence of a memory-belief + that the event remembered should have occurred, or even that the past + should have existed at all. There is no logical impossibility in the + hypothesis that the world sprang into being five minutes ago, exactly as + it then was, with a population that "remembered" a wholly unreal past. + There is no logically necessary connection between events at different + times; therefore nothing that is happening now or will happen in the + future can disprove the hypothesis that the world began five minutes ago. + Hence the occurrences which are CALLED knowledge of the past are logically + independent of the past; they are wholly analysable into present contents, + which might, theoretically, be just what they are even if no past had + existed. + </p> + <p> + I am not suggesting that the non-existence of the past should be + entertained as a serious hypothesis. Like all sceptical hypotheses, it is + logically tenable, but uninteresting. All that I am doing is to use its + logical tenability as a help in the analysis of what occurs when we + remember. + </p> + <p> + In the second place, images without beliefs are insufficient to constitute + memory; and habits are still more insufficient. The behaviourist, who + attempts to make psychology a record of behaviour, has to trust his memory + in making the record. "Habit" is a concept involving the occurrence of + similar events at different times; if the behaviourist feels confident + that there is such a phenomenon as habit, that can only be because he + trusts his memory, when it assures him that there have been other times. + And the same applies to images. If we are to know as it is supposed we do—that + images are "copies," accurate or inaccurate, of past events, something + more than the mere occurrence of images must go to constitute this + knowledge. For their mere occurrence, by itself, would not suggest any + connection with anything that had happened before. + </p> + <p> + Can we constitute memory out of images together with suitable beliefs? We + may take it that memory-images, when they occur in true memory, are (a) + known to be copies, (b) sometimes known to be imperfect copies (cf. + footnote on previous page). How is it possible to know that a memory-image + is an imperfect copy, without having a more accurate copy by which to + replace it? This would SEEM to suggest that we have a way of knowing the + past which is independent of images, by means of which we can criticize + image-memories. But I do not think such an inference is warranted. + </p> + <p> + What results, formally, from our knowledge of the past through images of + which we recognize the inaccuracy, is that such images must have two + characteristics by which we can arrange them in two series, of which one + corresponds to the more or less remote period in the past to which they + refer, and the other to our greater or less confidence in their accuracy. + We will take the second of these points first. + </p> + <p> + Our confidence or lack of confidence in the accuracy of a memory-image + must, in fundamental cases, be based upon a characteristic of the image + itself, since we cannot evoke the past bodily and compare it with the + present image. It might be suggested that vagueness is the required + characteristic, but I do not think this is the case. We sometimes have + images that are by no means peculiarly vague, which yet we do not trust—for + example, under the influence of fatigue we may see a friend's face vividly + and clearly, but horribly distorted. In such a case we distrust our image + in spite of its being unusually clear. I think the characteristic by which + we distinguish the images we trust is the feeling of FAMILIARITY that + accompanies them. Some images, like some sensations, feel very familiar, + while others feel strange. Familiarity is a feeling capable of degrees. In + an image of a well-known face, for example, some parts may feel more + familiar than others; when this happens, we have more belief in the + accuracy of the familiar parts than in that of the unfamiliar parts. I + think it is by this means that we become critical of images, not by some + imageless memory with which we compare them. I shall return to the + consideration of familiarity shortly. + </p> + <p> + I come now to the other characteristic which memory-images must have in + order to account for our knowledge of the past. They must have some + characteristic which makes us regard them as referring to more or less + remote portions of the past. That is to say if we suppose that A is the + event remembered, B the remembering, and t the interval of time between A + and B, there must be some characteristic of B which is capable of degrees, + and which, in accurately dated memories, varies as t varies. It may + increase as t increases, or diminish as t increases. The question which of + these occurs is not of any importance for the theoretic serviceability of + the characteristic in question. + </p> + <p> + In actual fact, there are doubtless various factors that concur in giving + us the feeling of greater or less remoteness in some remembered event. + There may be a specific feeling which could be called the feeling of + "pastness," especially where immediate memory is concerned. But apart from + this, there are other marks. One of these is context. A recent memory has, + usually, more context than a more distant one. When a remembered event has + a remembered context, this may occur in two ways, either (a) by successive + images in the same order as their prototypes, or (b) by remembering a + whole process simultaneously, in the same way in which a present process + may be apprehended, through akoluthic sensations which, by fading, acquire + the mark of just-pastness in an increasing degree as they fade, and are + thus placed in a series while all sensibly present. It will be context in + this second sense, more specially, that will give us a sense of the + nearness or remoteness of a remembered event. + </p> + <p> + There is, of course, a difference between knowing the temporal relation of + a remembered event to the present, and knowing the time-order of two + remembered events. Very often our knowledge of the temporal relation of a + remembered event to the present is inferred from its temporal relations to + other remembered events. It would seem that only rather recent events can + be placed at all accurately by means of feelings giving their temporal + relation to the present, but it is clear that such feelings must play an + essential part in the process of dating remembered events. + </p> + <p> + We may say, then, that images are regarded by us as more or less accurate + copies of past occurrences because they come to us with two sorts of + feelings: (1) Those that may be called feelings of familiarity; (2) those + that may be collected together as feelings giving a sense of pastness. The + first lead us to trust our memories, the second to assign places to them + in the time-order. + </p> + <p> + We have now to analyse the memory-belief, as opposed to the + characteristics of images which lead us to base memory-beliefs upon them. + </p> + <p> + If we had retained the "subject" or "act" in knowledge, the whole problem + of memory would have been comparatively simple. We could then have said + that remembering is a direct relation between the present act or subject + and the past occurrence remembered: the act of remembering is present, + though its object is past. But the rejection of the subject renders some + more complicated theory necessary. Remembering has to be a present + occurrence in some way resembling, or related to, what is remembered. And + it is difficult to find any ground, except a pragmatic one, for supposing + that memory is not sheer delusion, if, as seems to be the case, there is + not, apart from memory, any way of ascertaining that there really was a + past occurrence having the required relation to our present remembering. + What, if we followed Meinong's terminology, we should call the "object" in + memory, i.e. the past event which we are said to be remembering, is + unpleasantly remote from the "content," i.e. the present mental occurrence + in remembering. There is an awkward gulf between the two, which raises + difficulties for the theory of knowledge. But we must not falsify + observation to avoid theoretical difficulties. For the present, therefore, + let us forget these problems, and try to discover what actually occurs in + memory. + </p> + <p> + Some points may be taken as fixed, and such as any theory of memory must + arrive at. In this case, as in most others, what may be taken as certain + in advance is rather vague. The study of any topic is like the continued + observation of an object which is approaching us along a road: what is + certain to begin with is the quite vague knowledge that there is SOME + object on the road. If you attempt to be less vague, and to assert that + the object is an elephant, or a man, or a mad dog, you run a risk of + error; but the purpose of continued observation is to enable you to arrive + at such more precise knowledge. In like manner, in the study of memory, + the certainties with which you begin are very vague, and the more precise + propositions at which you try to arrive are less certain than the hazy + data from which you set out. Nevertheless, in spite of the risk of error, + precision is the goal at which we must aim. + </p> + <p> + The first of our vague but indubitable data is that there is knowledge of + the past. We do not yet know with any precision what we mean by + "knowledge," and we must admit that in any given instance our memory may + be at fault. Nevertheless, whatever a sceptic might urge in theory, we + cannot practically doubt that we got up this morning, that we did various + things yesterday, that a great war has been taking place, and so on. How + far our knowledge of the past is due to memory, and how far to other + sources, is of course a matter to be investigated, but there can be no + doubt that memory forms an indispensable part of our knowledge of the + past. + </p> + <p> + The second datum is that we certainly have more capacity for knowing the + past than for knowing the future. We know some things about the future, + for example what eclipses there will be; but this knowledge is a matter of + elaborate calculation and inference, whereas some of our knowledge of the + past comes to us without effort, in the same sort of immediate way in + which we acquire knowledge of occurrences in our present environment. We + might provisionally, though perhaps not quite correctly, define "memory" + as that way of knowing about the past which has no analogue in our + knowledge of the future; such a definition would at least serve to mark + the problem with which we are concerned, though some expectations may + deserve to rank with memory as regards immediacy. + </p> + <p> + A third point, perhaps not quite so certain as our previous two, is that + the truth of memory cannot be wholly practical, as pragmatists wish all + truth to be. It seems clear that some of the things I remember are trivial + and without any visible importance for the future, but that my memory is + true (or false) in virtue of a past event, not in virtue of any future + consequences of my belief. The definition of truth as the correspondence + between beliefs and facts seems peculiarly evident in the case of memory, + as against not only the pragmatist definition but also the idealist + definition by means of coherence. These considerations, however, are + taking us away from psychology, to which we must now return. + </p> + <p> + It is important not to confuse the two forms of memory which Bergson + distinguishes in the second chapter of his "Matter and Memory," namely the + sort that consists of habit, and the sort that consists of independent + recollection. He gives the instance of learning a lesson by heart: when I + know it by heart I am said to "remember" it, but this merely means that I + have acquired certain habits; on the other hand, my recollection of (say) + the second time I read the lesson while I was learning it is the + recollection of a unique event, which occurred only once. The recollection + of a unique event cannot, so Bergson contends, be wholly constituted by + habit, and is in fact something radically different from the memory which + is habit. The recollection alone is true memory. This distinction is vital + to the understanding of memory. But it is not so easy to carry out in + practice as it is to draw in theory. Habit is a very intrusive feature of + our mental life, and is often present where at first sight it seems not to + be. There is, for example, a habit of remembering a unique event. When we + have once described the event, the words we have used easily become + habitual. We may even have used words to describe it to ourselves while it + was happening; in that case, the habit of these words may fulfil the + function of Bergson's true memory, while in reality it is nothing but + habit-memory. A gramophone, by the help of suitable records, might relate + to us the incidents of its past; and people are not so different from + gramophones as they like to believe. + </p> + <p> + In spite, however, of a difficulty in distinguishing the two forms of + memory in practice, there can be no doubt that both forms exist. I can set + to work now to remember things I never remembered before, such as what I + had to eat for breakfast this morning, and it can hardly be wholly habit + that enables me to do this. It is this sort of occurrence that constitutes + the essence of memory Until we have analysed what happens in such a case + as this, we have not succeeded in understanding memory. + </p> + <p> + The sort of memory with which we are here concerned is the sort which is a + form of knowledge. Whether knowledge itself is reducible to habit is a + question to which I shall return in a later lecture; for the present I am + only anxious to point out that, whatever the true analysis of knowledge + may be, knowledge of past occurrences is not proved by behaviour which is + due to past experience. The fact that a man can recite a poem does not + show that he remembers any previous occasion on which he has recited or + read it. Similarly, the performances of animals in getting out of cages or + mazes to which they are accustomed do not prove that they remember having + been in the same situation before. Arguments in favour of (for example) + memory in plants are only arguments in favour of habit-memory, not of + knowledge-memory. Samuel Butler's arguments in favour of the view that an + animal remembers something of the lives of its ancestors* are, when + examined, only arguments in favour of habit-memory. Semon's two books, + mentioned in an earlier lecture, do not touch knowledge-memory at all + closely. They give laws according to which images of past occurrences come + into our minds, but do not discuss our belief that these images refer to + past occurrences, which is what constitutes knowledge-memory. It is this + that is of interest to theory of knowledge. I shall speak of it as "true" + memory, to distinguish it from mere habit acquired through past + experience. Before considering true memory, it will be well to consider + two things which are on the way towards memory, namely the feeling of + familiarity and recognition. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * See his "Life and Habit and Unconscious Memory." +</pre> + <p> + We often feel that something in our sensible environment is familiar, + without having any definite recollection of previous occasions on which we + have seen it. We have this feeling normally in places where we have often + been before—at home, or in well-known streets. Most people and + animals find it essential to their happiness to spend a good deal of their + time in familiar surroundings, which are especially comforting when any + danger threatens. The feeling of familiarity has all sorts of degrees, + down to the stage where we dimly feel that we have seen a person before. + It is by no means always reliable; almost everybody has at some time + experienced the well-known illusion that all that is happening now + happened before at some time. There are occasions when familiarity does + not attach itself to any definite object, when there is merely a vague + feeling that SOMETHING is familiar. This is illustrated by Turgenev's + "Smoke," where the hero is long puzzled by a haunting sense that something + in his present is recalling something in his past, and at last traces it + to the smell of heliotrope. Whenever the sense of familiarity occurs + without a definite object, it leads us to search the environment until we + are satisfied that we have found the appropriate object, which leads us to + the judgment: "THIS is familiar." I think we may regard familiarity as a + definite feeling, capable of existing without an object, but normally + standing in a specific relation to some feature of the environment, the + relation being that which we express in words by saying that the feature + in question is familiar. The judgment that what is familiar has been + experienced before is a product of reflection, and is no part of the + feeling of familiarity, such as a horse may be supposed to have when he + returns to his stable. Thus no knowledge as to the past is to be derived + from the feeling of familiarity alone. + </p> + <p> + A further stage is RECOGNITION. This may be taken in two senses, the first + when a thing not merely feels familiar, but we know it is such-and-such. + We recognize our friend Jones, we know cats and dogs when we see them, and + so on. Here we have a definite influence of past experience, but not + necessarily any actual knowledge of the past. When we see a cat, we know + it is a cat because of previous cats we have seen, but we do not, as a + rule, recollect at the moment any particular occasion when we have seen a + cat. Recognition in this sense does not necessarily involve more than a + habit of association: the kind of object we are seeing at the moment is + associated with the word "cat," or with an auditory image of purring, or + whatever other characteristic we may happen to recognize in the cat of the + moment. We are, of course, in fact able to judge, when we recognize an + object, that we have seen it before, but this judgment is something over + and above recognition in this first sense, and may very probably be + impossible to animals that nevertheless have the experience of recognition + in this first sense of the word. + </p> + <p> + There is, however, another sense of the word, in which we mean by + recognition, not knowing the name of a thing or some other property of it, + but knowing that we have seen it before In this sense recognition does + involve knowledge about the Fast. This knowledge is memory in one sense, + though in another it is not. It does not involve a definite memory of a + definite past event, but only the knowledge that something happening now + is similar to something that happened before. It differs from the sense of + familiarity by being cognitive; it is a belief or judgment, which the + sense of familiarity is not. I do not wish to undertake the analysis of + belief at present, since it will be the subject of the twelfth lecture; + for the present I merely wish to emphasize the fact that recognition, in + our second sense, consists in a belief, which we may express approximately + in the words: "This has existed before." + </p> + <p> + There are, however, several points in which such an account of recognition + is inadequate. To begin with, it might seem at first sight more correct to + define recognition as "I have seen this before" than as "this has existed + before." We recognize a thing (it may be urged) as having been in our + experience before, whatever that may mean; we do not recognize it as + merely having been in the world before. I am not sure that there is + anything substantial in this point. The definition of "my experience" is + difficult; broadly speaking, it is everything that is connected with what + I am experiencing now by certain links, of which the various forms of + memory are among the most important. Thus, if I recognize a thing, the + occasion of its previous existence in virtue of which I recognize it forms + part of "my experience" by DEFINITION: recognition will be one of the + marks by which my experience is singled out from the rest of the world. Of + course, the words "this has existed before" are a very inadequate + translation of what actually happens when we form a judgment of + recognition, but that is unavoidable: words are framed to express a level + of thought which is by no means primitive, and are quite incapable of + expressing such an elementary occurrence as recognition. I shall return to + what is virtually the same question in connection with true memory, which + raises exactly similar problems. + </p> + <p> + A second point is that, when we recognize something, it was not in fact + the very same thing, but only something similar, that we experienced on a + former occasion. Suppose the object in question is a friend's face. A + person's face is always changing, and is not exactly the same on any two + occasions. Common sense treats it as one face with varying expressions; + but the varying expressions actually exist, each at its proper time, while + the one face is merely a logical construction. We regard two objects as + the same, for common-sense purposes, when the reaction they call for is + practically the same. Two visual appearances, to both of which it is + appropriate to say: "Hullo, Jones!" are treated as appearances of one + identical object, namely Jones. The name "Jones" is applicable to both, + and it is only reflection that shows us that many diverse particulars are + collected together to form the meaning of the name "Jones." What we see on + any one occasion is not the whole series of particulars that make up + Jones, but only one of them (or a few in quick succession). On another + occasion we see another member of the series, but it is sufficiently + similar to count as the same from the standpoint of common sense. Accordingly, + when we judge "I have seen THIS before," we judge falsely if "this" is + taken as applying to the actual constituent of the world that we are + seeing at the moment. The word "this" must be interpreted vaguely so as to + include anything sufficiently like what we are seeing at the moment. Here, + again, we shall find a similar point as regards true memory; and in + connection with true memory we will consider the point again. It is + sometimes suggested, by those who favour behaviourist views, that + recognition consists in behaving in the same way when a stimulus is + repeated as we behaved on the first occasion when it occurred. This seems + to be the exact opposite of the truth. The essence of recognition is in + the DIFFERENCE between a repeated stimulus and a new one. On the first + occasion there is no recognition; on the second occasion there is. In + fact, recognition is another instance of the peculiarity of causal laws in + psychology, namely, that the causal unit is not a single event, but two or + more events Habit is the great instance of this, but recognition is + another. A stimulus occurring once has a certain effect; occurring twice, + it has the further effect of recognition. Thus the phenomenon of + recognition has as its cause the two occasions when the stimulus has + occurred; either alone is insufficient. This complexity of causes in + psychology might be connected with Bergson's arguments against repetition + in the mental world. It does not prove that there are no causal laws in + psychology, as Bergson suggests; but it does prove that the causal laws of + psychology are Prima facie very different from those of physics. On the + possibility of explaining away the difference as due to the peculiarities + of nervous tissue I have spoken before, but this possibility must not be + forgotten if we are tempted to draw unwarranted metaphysical deductions. + </p> + <p> + True memory, which we must now endeavour to understand, consists of + knowledge of past events, but not of all such knowledge. Some knowledge of + past events, for example what we learn through reading history, is on a + par with the knowledge we can acquire concerning the future: it is + obtained by inference, not (so to speak) spontaneously. There is a similar + distinction in our knowledge of the present: some of it is obtained + through the senses, some in more indirect ways. I know that there are at + this moment a number of people in the streets of New York, but I do not + know this in the immediate way in which I know of the people whom I see by + looking out of my window. It is not easy to state precisely wherein the + difference between these two sorts of knowledge consists, but it is easy + to feel the difference. For the moment, I shall not stop to analyse it, + but shall content myself with saying that, in this respect, memory + resembles the knowledge derived from the senses. It is immediate, not + inferred, not abstract; it differs from perception mainly by being + referred to the past. + </p> + <p> + In regard to memory, as throughout the analysis of knowledge, there are + two very distinct problems, namely (1) as to the nature of the present + occurrence in knowing; (2) as to the relation of this occurrence to what + is known. When we remember, the knowing is now, while what is known is in + the past. Our two questions are, in the case of memory: + </p> + <p> + (1) What is the present occurrence when we remember? + </p> + <p> + (2) What is the relation of this present occurrence to the past event + which is remembered? + </p> + <p> + Of these two questions, only the first concerns the psychologist; the + second belongs to theory of knowledge. At the same time, if we accept the + vague datum with which we began, to the effect that, in some sense, there + is knowledge of the past, we shall have to find, if we can, such an + account of the present occurrence in remembering as will make it not + impossible for remembering to give us knowledge of the past. For the + present, however, we shall do well to forget the problems concerning + theory of knowledge, and concentrate upon the purely psychological problem + of memory. + </p> + <p> + Between memory-image and sensation there is an intermediate experience + concerning the immediate past. For example, a sound that we have just + heard is present to us in a way which differs both from the sensation + while we are hearing the sound and from the memory-image of something + heard days or weeks ago. James states that it is this way of apprehending + the immediate past that is "the ORIGINAL of our experience of pastness, + from whence we get the meaning of the term"("Psychology," i, p. 604). + Everyone knows the experience of noticing (say) that the clock HAS BEEN + striking, when we did not notice it while it was striking. And when we + hear a remark spoken, we are conscious of the earlier words while the + later ones are being uttered, and this retention feels different from + recollection of something definitely past. A sensation fades gradually, + passing by continuous gradations to the status of an image. This retention + of the immediate past in a condition intermediate between sensation and + image may be called "immediate memory." Everything belonging to it is + included with sensation in what is called the "specious present." The + specious present includes elements at all stages on the journey from + sensation to image. It is this fact that enables us to apprehend such + things as movements, or the order of the words in a spoken sentence. + Succession can occur within the specious present, of which we can + distinguish some parts as earlier and others as later. It is to be + supposed that the earliest parts are those that have faded most from their + original force, while the latest parts are those that retain their full + sensational character. At the beginning of a stimulus we have a sensation; + then a gradual transition; and at the end an image. Sensations while they + are fading are called "akoluthic" sensations.* When the process of fading + is completed (which happens very quickly), we arrive at the image, which + is capable of being revived on subsequent occasions with very little + change. True memory, as opposed to "immediate memory," applies only to + events sufficiently distant to have come to an end of the period of + fading. Such events, if they are represented by anything present, can only + be represented by images, not by those intermediate stages, between + sensations and images, which occur during the period of fading. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * See Semon, "Die mnemischen Empfindungen," chap. vi. +</pre> + <p> + Immediate memory is important both because it provides experience of + succession, and because it bridges the gulf between sensations and the + images which are their copies. But it is now time to resume the + consideration of true memory. + </p> + <p> + Suppose you ask me what I ate for breakfast this morning. Suppose, + further, that I have not thought about my breakfast in the meantime, and + that I did not, while I was eating it, put into words what it consisted + of. In this case my recollection will be true memory, not habit-memory. + The process of remembering will consist of calling up images of my + breakfast, which will come to me with a feeling of belief such as + distinguishes memory-images from mere imagination-images. Or sometimes + words may come without the intermediary of images; but in this case + equally the feeling of belief is essential. + </p> + <p> + Let us omit from our consideration, for the present, the memories in which + words replace images. These are always, I think, really habit-memories, + the memories that use images being the typical true memories. + </p> + <p> + Memory-images and imagination-images do not differ in their intrinsic + qualities, so far as we can discover. They differ by the fact that the + images that constitute memories, unlike those that constitute imagination, + are accompanied by a feeling of belief which may be expressed in the words + "this happened." The mere occurrence of images, without this feeling of + belief, constitutes imagination; it is the element of belief that is the + distinctive thing in memory.* + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * For belief of a specific kind, cf. Dorothy Wrinch "On the + Nature of Memory," "Mind," January, 1920. +</pre> + <p> + There are, if I am not mistaken, at least three different kinds of + belief-feeling, which we may call respectively memory, expectation and + bare assent. In what I call bare assent, there is no time-element in the + feeling of belief, though there may be in the content of what is believed. + If I believe that Caesar landed in Britain in B.C. 55, the + time-determination lies, not in the feeling of belief, but in what is + believed. I do not remember the occurrence, but have the same feeling + towards it as towards the announcement of an eclipse next year. But when I + have seen a flash of lightning and am waiting for the thunder, I have a + belief-feeling analogous to memory, except that it refers to the future: I + have an image of thunder, combined with a feeling which may be expressed + in the words: "this will happen." So, in memory, the pastness lies, not in + the content of what is believed, but in the nature of the belief-feeling. + I might have just the same images and expect their realization; I might + entertain them without any belief, as in reading a novel; or I might + entertain them together with a time-determination, and give bare assent, + as in reading history. I shall return to this subject in a later lecture, + when we come to the analysis of belief. For the present, I wish to make it + clear that a certain special kind of belief is the distinctive + characteristic of memory. + </p> + <p> + The problem as to whether memory can be explained as habit or association + requires to be considered afresh in connection with the causes of our + remembering something. Let us take again the case of my being asked what I + had for breakfast this morning. In this case the question leads to my + setting to work to recollect. It is a little strange that the question + should instruct me as to what it is that I am to recall. This has to do + with understanding words, which will be the topic of the next lecture; but + something must be said about it now. Our understanding of the words + "breakfast this morning" is a habit, in spite of the fact that on each + fresh day they point to a different occasion. "This morning" does not, + whenever it is used, mean the same thing, as "John" or "St. Paul's" does; + it means a different period of time on each different day. It follows that + the habit which constitutes our understanding of the words "this morning" + is not the habit of associating the words with a fixed object, but the + habit of associating them with something having a fixed time-relation to + our present. This morning has, to-day, the same time-relation to my + present that yesterday morning had yesterday. In order to understand the + phrase "this morning" it is necessary that we should have a way of feeling + time-intervals, and that this feeling should give what is constant in the + meaning of the words "this morning." This appreciation of time-intervals + is, however, obviously a product of memory, not a presupposition of it. It + will be better, therefore, if we wish to analyse the causation of memory + by something not presupposing memory, to take some other instance than + that of a question about "this morning." + </p> + <p> + Let us take the case of coming into a familiar room where something has + been changed—say a new picture hung on the wall. We may at first + have only a sense that SOMETHING is unfamiliar, but presently we shall + remember, and say "that picture was not on the wall before." In order to + make the case definite, we will suppose that we were only in the room on + one former occasion. In this case it seems fairly clear what happens. The + other objects in the room are associated, through the former occasion, + with a blank space of wall where now there is a picture. They call up an + image of a blank wall, which clashes with perception of the picture. The + image is associated with the belief-feeling which we found to be + distinctive of memory, since it can neither be abolished nor harmonized + with perception. If the room had remained unchanged, we might have had + only the feeling of familiarity without the definite remembering; it is + the change that drives us from the present to memory of the past. + </p> + <p> + We may generalize this instance so as to cover the causes of many + memories. Some present feature of the environment is associated, through + past experiences, with something now absent; this absent something comes + before us as an image, and is contrasted with present sensation. In cases + of this sort, habit (or association) explains why the present feature of + the environment brings up the memory-image, but it does not explain the + memory-belief. Perhaps a more complete analysis could explain the + memory-belief also on lines of association and habit, but the causes of + beliefs are obscure, and we cannot investigate them yet. For the present + we must content ourselves with the fact that the memory-image can be + explained by habit. As regards the memory-belief, we must, at least + provisionally, accept Bergson's view that it cannot be brought under the + head of habit, at any rate when it first occurs, i.e. when we remember + something we never remembered before. + </p> + <p> + We must now consider somewhat more closely the content of a memory-belief. + The memory-belief confers upon the memory-image something which we may + call "meaning;" it makes us feel that the image points to an object which + existed in the past. In order to deal with this topic we must consider the + verbal expression of the memory-belief. We might be tempted to put the + memory-belief into the words: "Something like this image occurred." But + such words would be very far from an accurate translation of the simplest + kind of memory-belief. "Something like this image" is a very complicated + conception. In the simplest kind of memory we are not aware of the + difference between an image and the sensation which it copies, which may + be called its "prototype." When the image is before us, we judge rather + "this occurred." The image is not distinguished from the object which + existed in the past: the word "this" covers both, and enables us to have a + memory-belief which does not introduce the complicated notion "something + like this." + </p> + <p> + It might be objected that, if we judge "this occurred" when in fact "this" + is a present image, we judge falsely, and the memory-belief, so + interpreted, becomes deceptive. This, however, would be a mistake, + produced by attempting to give to words a precision which they do not + possess when used by unsophisticated people. It is true that the image is + not absolutely identical with its prototype, and if the word "this" meant + the image to the exclusion of everything else, the judgment "this + occurred" would be false. But identity is a precise conception, and no + word, in ordinary speech, stands for anything precise. Ordinary speech + does not distinguish between identity and close similarity. A word always + applies, not only to one particular, but to a group of associated + particulars, which are not recognized as multiple in common thought or + speech. Thus primitive memory, when it judges that "this occurred," is + vague, but not false. + </p> + <p> + Vague identity, which is really close similarity, has been a source of + many of the confusions by which philosophy has lived. Of a vague subject, + such as a "this," which is both an image and its prototype, contradictory + predicates are true simultaneously: this existed and does not exist, since + it is a thing remembered, but also this exists and did not exist, since it + is a present image. Hence Bergson's interpenetration of the present by the + past, Hegelian continuity and identity-in-diversity, and a host of other + notions which are thought to be profound because they are obscure and + confused. The contradictions resulting from confounding image and + prototype in memory force us to precision. But when we become precise, our + remembering becomes different from that of ordinary life, and if we forget + this we shall go wrong in the analysis of ordinary memory. + </p> + <p> + Vagueness and accuracy are important notions, which it is very necessary + to understand. Both are a matter of degree. All thinking is vague to some + extent, and complete accuracy is a theoretical ideal not practically + attainable. To understand what is meant by accuracy, it will be well to + consider first instruments of measurement, such as a balance or a + thermometer. These are said to be accurate when they give different + results for very slightly different stimuli.* A clinical thermometer is + accurate when it enables us to detect very slight differences in the + temperature of the blood. We may say generally that an instrument is + accurate in proportion as it reacts differently to very slightly different + stimuli. When a small difference of stimulus produces a great difference + of reaction, the instrument is accurate; in the contrary case it is not. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * This is a necessary but not a sufficient condition. The + subject of accuracy and vagueness will be considered again + in Lecture XIII. +</pre> + <p> + Exactly the same thing applies in defining accuracy of thought or + perception. A musician will respond differently to very minute differences + in playing which would be quite imperceptible to the ordinary mortal. A + negro can see the difference between one negro and another one is his + friend, another his enemy. But to us such different responses are + impossible: we can merely apply the word "negro" indiscriminately. + Accuracy of response in regard to any particular kind of stimulus is + improved by practice. Understanding a language is a case in point. Few + Frenchmen can hear any difference between the sounds "hall" and "hole," + which produce quite different impressions upon us. The two statements "the + hall is full of water" and "the hole is full of water" call for different + responses, and a hearing which cannot distinguish between them is + inaccurate or vague in this respect. + </p> + <p> + Precision and vagueness in thought, as in perception, depend upon the + degree of difference between responses to more or less similar stimuli. In + the case of thought, the response does not follow immediately upon the + sensational stimulus, but that makes no difference as regards our present + question. Thus to revert to memory: A memory is "vague" when it is + appropriate to many different occurrences: for instance, "I met a man" is + vague, since any man would verify it. A memory is "precise" when the + occurrences that would verify it are narrowly circumscribed: for instance, + "I met Jones" is precise as compared to "I met a man." A memory is + "accurate" when it is both precise and true, i.e. in the above instance, + if it was Jones I met. It is precise even if it is false, provided some + very definite occurrence would have been required to make it true. + </p> + <p> + It follows from what has been said that a vague thought has more + likelihood of being true than a precise one. To try and hit an object with + a vague thought is like trying to hit the bull's eye with a lump of putty: + when the putty reaches the target, it flattens out all over it, and + probably covers the bull's eye along with the rest. To try and hit an + object with a precise thought is like trying to hit the bull's eye with a + bullet. The advantage of the precise thought is that it distinguishes + between the bull's eye and the rest of the target. For example, if the + whole target is represented by the fungus family and the bull's eye by + mushrooms, a vague thought which can only hit the target as a whole is not + much use from a culinary point of view. And when I merely remember that I + met a man, my memory may be very inadequate to my practical requirements, + since it may make a great difference whether I met Brown or Jones. The + memory "I met Jones" is relatively precise. It is accurate if I met Jones, + inaccurate if I met Brown, but precise in either case as against the mere + recollection that I met a man. + </p> + <p> + The distinction between accuracy and precision is however, not + fundamental. We may omit precision from out thoughts and confine ourselves + to the distinction between accuracy and vagueness. We may then set up the + following definitions: + </p> + <p> + An instrument is "reliable" with respect to a given set of stimuli when to + stimuli which are not relevantly different it gives always responses which + are not relevantly different. + </p> + <p> + An instrument is a "measure" of a set of stimuli which are serially + ordered when its responses, in all cases where they are relevantly + different, are arranged in a series in the same order. + </p> + <p> + The "degree of accuracy" of an instrument which is a reliable measurer is + the ratio of the difference of response to the difference of stimulus in + cases where the difference of stimulus is small.* That is to say, if a + small difference of stimulus produces a great difference of response, the + instrument is very accurate; in the contrary case, very inaccurate. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * Strictly speaking, the limit of this, i.e. the derivative + of the response with respect to the stimulus. +</pre> + <p> + A mental response is called "vague" in proportion to its lack of accuracy, + or rather precision. + </p> + <p> + These definitions will be found useful, not only in the case of memory, + but in almost all questions concerned with knowledge. + </p> + <p> + It should be observed that vague beliefs, so far from being necessarily + false, have a better chance of truth than precise ones, though their truth + is less valuable than that of precise beliefs, since they do not + distinguish between occurrences which may differ in important ways. + </p> + <p> + The whole of the above discussion of vagueness and accuracy was occasioned + by the attempt to interpret the word "this" when we judge in verbal memory + that "this occurred." The word "this," in such a judgment, is a vague + word, equally applicable to the present memory-image and to the past + occurrence which is its prototype. A vague word is not to be identified + with a general word, though in practice the distinction may often be + blurred. A word is general when it is understood to be applicable to a + number of different objects in virtue of some common property. A word is + vague when it is in fact applicable to a number of different objects + because, in virtue of some common property, they have not appeared, to the + person using the word, to be distinct. I emphatically do not mean that he + has judged them to be identical, but merely that he has made the same + response to them all and has not judged them to be different. We may + compare a vague word to a jelly and a general word to a heap of shot. + Vague words precede judgments of identity and difference; both general and + particular words are subsequent to such judgments. The word "this" in the + primitive memory-belief is a vague word, not a general word; it covers + both the image and its prototype because the two are not distinguished.* + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * On the vague and the general cf. Ribot: "Evolution of + General Ideas," Open Court Co., 1899, p. 32: "The sole + permissible formula is this: Intelligence progresses from + the indefinite to the definite. If 'indefinite' is taken as + synonymous with general, it may be said that the particular + does not appear at the outset, but neither does the general + in any exact sense: the vague would be more appropriate. In + other words, no sooner has the intellect progressed beyond + the moment of perception and of its immediate reproduction + in memory, than the generic image makes its appearance, i.e. + a state intermediate between the particular and the general, + participating in the nature of the one and of the other—a + confused simplification." +</pre> + <p> + But we have not yet finished our analysis of the memory-belief. The tense + in the belief that "this occurred" is provided by the nature of the + belief-feeling involved in memory; the word "this," as we have seen, has a + vagueness which we have tried to describe. But we must still ask what we + mean by "occurred." The image is, in one sense, occurring now; and + therefore we must find some other sense in which the past event occurred + but the image does not occur. + </p> + <p> + There are two distinct questions to be asked: (1) What causes us to say + that a thing occurs? (2) What are we feeling when we say this? As to the + first question, in the crude use of the word, which is what concerns us, + memory-images would not be said to occur; they would not be noticed in + themselves, but merely used as signs of the past event. Images are "merely + imaginary"; they have not, in crude thought, the sort of reality that + belongs to outside bodies. Roughly speaking, "real" things would be those + that can cause sensations, those that have correlations of the sort that + constitute physical objects. A thing is said to be "real" or to "occur" + when it fits into a context of such correlations. The prototype of our + memory-image did fit into a physical context, while our memory-image does + not. This causes us to feel that the prototype was "real," while the image + is "imaginary." + </p> + <p> + But the answer to our second question, namely as to what we are feeling + when we say a thing "occurs" or is "real," must be somewhat different. We + do not, unless we are unusually reflective, think about the presence or + absence of correlations: we merely have different feelings which, + intellectualized, may be represented as expectations of the presence or + absence of correlations. A thing which "feels real" inspires us with hopes + or fears, expectations or curiosities, which are wholly absent when a + thing "feels imaginary." The feeling of reality is a feeling akin to + respect: it belongs PRIMARILY to whatever can do things to us without our + voluntary co-operation. This feeling of reality, related to the + memory-image, and referred to the past by the specific kind of + belief-feeling that is characteristic of memory, seems to be what + constitutes the act of remembering in its pure form. + </p> + <p> + We may now summarize our analysis of pure memory. + </p> + <p> + Memory demands (a) an image, (b) a belief in past existence. The belief + may be expressed in the words "this existed." + </p> + <p> + The belief, like every other, may be analysed into (1) the believing, (2) + what is believed. The believing is a specific feeling or sensation or + complex of sensations, different from expectation or bare assent in a way + that makes the belief refer to the past; the reference to the past lies in + the belief-feeling, not in the content believed. There is a relation + between the belief-feeling and the content, making the belief-feeling + refer to the content, and expressed by saying that the content is what is + believed. + </p> + <p> + The content believed may or may not be expressed in words. Let us take + first the case when it is not. In that case, if we are merely remembering + that something of which we now have an image occurred, the content + consists of (a) the image, (b) the feeling, analogous to respect, which we + translate by saying that something is "real" as opposed to "imaginary," + (c) a relation between the image and the feeling of reality, of the sort + expressed when we say that the feeling refers to the image. This content + does not contain in itself any time-determination. + </p> + <p> + The time-determination lies in the nature of the belief feeling, which is + that called "remembering" or (better) "recollecting." It is only + subsequent reflection upon this reference to the past that makes us + realize the distinction between the image and the event recollected. When + we have made this distinction, we can say that the image "means" the past + event. + </p> + <p> + The content expressed in words is best represented by the words "the + existence of this," since these words do not involve tense, which belongs + to the belief-feeling, not to the content. Here "this" is a vague term, + covering the memory-image and anything very like it, including its + prototype. "Existence" expresses the feeling of a "reality" aroused + primarily by whatever can have effects upon us without our voluntary + co-operation. The word "of" in the phrase "the existence of this" + represents the relation which subsists between the feeling of reality and + the "this." + </p> + <p> + This analysis of memory is probably extremely faulty, but I do not know + how to improve it. + </p> + <p> + NOTE.-When I speak of a FEELING of belief, I use the word "feeling" in a + popular sense, to cover a sensation or an image or a complex of sensations + or images or both; I use this word because I do not wish to commit myself + to any special analysis of the belief-feeling. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0013" id="link2H_4_0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LECTURE X. WORDS AND MEANING + </h2> + <p> + The problem with which we shall be concerned in this lecture is the + problem of determining what is the relation called "meaning." The word + "Napoleon," we say, "means" a certain person. In saying this, we are + asserting a relation between the word "Napoleon" and the person so + designated. It is this relation that we must now investigate. + </p> + <p> + Let us first consider what sort of object a word is when considered simply + as a physical thing, apart from its meaning. To begin with, there are many + instances of a word, namely all the different occasions when it is + employed. Thus a word is not something unique and particular, but a set of + occurrences. If we confine ourselves to spoken words, a word has two + aspects, according as we regard it from the point of view of the speaker + or from that of the hearer. From the point of view of the speaker, a + single instance of the use of a word consists of a certain set of + movements in the throat and mouth, combined with breath. From the point of + view of the hearer, a single instance of the use of a word consists of a + certain series of sounds, each being approximately represented by a single + letter in writing, though in practice a letter may represent several + sounds, or several letters may represent one sound. The connection between + the spoken word and the word as it reaches the hearer is causal. Let us + confine ourselves to the spoken word, which is the more important for the + analysis of what is called "thought." Then we may say that a single + instance of the spoken word consists of a series of movements, and the + word consists of a whole set of such series, each member of the set being + very similar to each other member. That is to say, any two instances of + the word "Napoleon" are very similar, and each instance consists of a + series of movements in the mouth. + </p> + <p> + A single word, accordingly, is by no means simple it is a class of similar + series of movements (confining ourselves still to the spoken word). The + degree of similarity required cannot be precisely defined: a man may + pronounce the word "Napoleon" so badly that it can hardly be determined + whether he has really pronounced it or not. The instances of a word shade + off into other movements by imperceptible degrees. And exactly analogous + observations apply to words heard or written or read. But in what has been + said so far we have not even broached the question of the DEFINITION of a + word, since "meaning" is clearly what distinguishes a word from other sets + of similar movements, and "meaning" remains to be defined. + </p> + <p> + It is natural to think of the meaning of a word as something conventional. + This, however, is only true with great limitations. A new word can be + added to an existing language by a mere convention, as is done, for + instance, with new scientific terms. But the basis of a language is not + conventional, either from the point of view of the individual or from that + of the community. A child learning to speak is learning habits and + associations which are just as much determined by the environment as the + habit of expecting dogs to bark and cocks to crow. The community that + speaks a language has learnt it, and modified it by processes almost all + of which are not deliberate, but the results of causes operating according + to more or less ascertainable laws. If we trace any Indo-European language + back far enough, we arrive hypothetically (at any rate according to some + authorities) at the stage when language consisted only of the roots out of + which subsequent words have grown. How these roots acquired their meanings + is not known, but a conventional origin is clearly just as mythical as the + social contract by which Hobbes and Rousseau supposed civil government to + have been established. We can hardly suppose a parliament of hitherto + speechless elders meeting together and agreeing to call a cow a cow and a + wolf a wolf. The association of words with their meanings must have grown + up by some natural process, though at present the nature of the process is + unknown. + </p> + <p> + Spoken and written words are, of course, not the only way of conveying + meaning. A large part of one of Wundt's two vast volumes on language in + his "Volkerpsychologie" is concerned with gesture-language. Ants appear to + be able to communicate a certain amount of information by means of their + antennae. Probably writing itself, which we now regard as merely a way of + representing speech, was originally an independent language, as it has + remained to this day in China. Writing seems to have consisted originally + of pictures, which gradually became conventionalized, coming in time to + represent syllables, and finally letters on the telephone principle of "T + for Tommy." But it would seem that writing nowhere began as an attempt to + represent speech it began as a direct pictorial representation of what was + to be expressed. The essence of language lies, not in the use of this or + that special means of communication, but in the employment of fixed + associations (however these may have originated) in order that something + now sensible—a spoken word, a picture, a gesture, or what not—may + call up the "idea" of something else. Whenever this is done, what is now + sensible may be called a "sign" or "symbol," and that of which it is + intended to call up the "idea" may be called its "meaning." This is a + rough outline of what constitutes "meaning." But we must fill in the + outline in various ways. And, since we are concerned with what is called + "thought," we must pay more attention than we otherwise should do to the + private as opposed to the social use of language. Language profoundly + affects our thoughts, and it is this aspect of language that is of most + importance to us in our present inquiry. We are almost more concerned with + the internal speech that is never uttered than we are with the things said + out loud to other people. + </p> + <p> + When we ask what constitutes meaning, we are not asking what is the + meaning of this or that particular word. The word "Napoleon" means a + certain individual; but we are asking, not who is the individual meant, + but what is the relation of the word to the individual which makes the one + mean the other. But just as it is useful to realize the nature of a word + as part of the physical world, so it is useful to realize the sort of + thing that a word may mean. When we are clear both as to what a word is in + its physical aspect, and as to what sort of thing it can mean, we are in a + better position to discover the relation of the two which is meaning. + </p> + <p> + The things that words mean differ more than words do. There are different + sorts of words, distinguished by the grammarians; and there are logical + distinctions, which are connected to some extent, though not so closely as + was formerly supposed, with the grammatical distinctions of parts of + speech. It is easy, however, to be misled by grammar, particularly if all + the languages we know belong to one family. In some languages, according + to some authorities, the distinction of parts of speech does not exist; in + many languages it is widely different from that to which we are accustomed + in the Indo-European languages. These facts have to be borne in mind if we + are to avoid giving metaphysical importance to mere accidents of our own + speech. + </p> + <p> + In considering what words mean, it is natural to start with proper names, + and we will again take "Napoleon" as our instance. We commonly imagine, + when we use a proper name, that we mean one definite entity, the + particular individual who was called "Napoleon." But what we know as a + person is not simple. There MAY be a single simple ego which was Napoleon, + and remained strictly identical from his birth to his death. There is no + way of proving that this cannot be the case, but there is also not the + slightest reason to suppose that it is the case. Napoleon as he was + empirically known consisted of a series of gradually changing appearances: + first a squalling baby, then a boy, then a slim and beautiful youth, then + a fat and slothful person very magnificently dressed This series of + appearances, and various occurrences having certain kinds of causal + connections with them, constitute Napoleon as empirically known, and + therefore are Napoleon in so far as he forms part of the experienced + world. Napoleon is a complicated series of occurrences, bound together by + causal laws, not, like instances of a word, by similarities. For although + a person changes gradually, and presents similar appearances on two nearly + contemporaneous occasions, it is not these similarities that constitute + the person, as appears from the "Comedy of Errors" for example. + </p> + <p> + Thus in the case of a proper name, while the word is a set of similar + series of movements, what it means is a series of occurrences bound + together by causal laws of that special kind that makes the occurrences + taken together constitute what we call one person, or one animal or thing, + in case the name applies to an animal or thing instead of to a person. + Neither the word nor what it names is one of the ultimate indivisible + constituents of the world. In language there is no direct way of + designating one of the ultimate brief existents that go to make up the + collections we call things or persons. If we want to speak of such + existents—which hardly happens except in philosophy—we have to + do it by means of some elaborate phrase, such as "the visual sensation + which occupied the centre of my field of vision at noon on January 1, + 1919." Such ultimate simples I call "particulars." Particulars MIGHT have + proper names, and no doubt would have if language had been invented by + scientifically trained observers for purposes of philosophy and logic. But + as language was invented for practical ends, particulars have remained one + and all without a name. + </p> + <p> + We are not, in practice, much concerned with the actual particulars that + come into our experience in sensation; we are concerned rather with whole + systems to which the particulars belong and of which they are signs. What + we see makes us say "Hullo, there's Jones," and the fact that what we see + is a sign of Jones (which is the case because it is one of the particulars + that make up Jones) is more interesting to us than the actual particular + itself. Hence we give the name "Jones" to the whole set of particulars, + but do not trouble to give separate names to the separate particulars that + make up the set. + </p> + <p> + Passing on from proper names, we come next to general names, such as + "man," "cat," "triangle." A word such as "man" means a whole class of such + collections of particulars as have proper names. The several members of + the class are assembled together in virtue of some similarity or common + property. All men resemble each other in certain important respects; hence + we want a word which shall be equally applicable to all of them. We only + give proper names to the individuals of a species when they differ inter + se in practically important respects. In other cases we do not do this. A + poker, for instance, is just a poker; we do not call one "John" and + another "Peter." + </p> + <p> + There is a large class of words, such as "eating," "walking," "speaking," + which mean a set of similar occurrences. Two instances of walking have the + same name because they resemble each other, whereas two instances of Jones + have the same name because they are causally connected. In practice, + however, it is difficult to make any precise distinction between a word + such as "walking" and a general name such as "man." One instance of + walking cannot be concentrated into an instant: it is a process in time, + in which there is a causal connection between the earlier and later parts, + as between the earlier and later parts of Jones. Thus an instance of + walking differs from an instance of man solely by the fact that it has a + shorter life. There is a notion that an instance of walking, as compared + with Jones, is unsubstantial, but this seems to be a mistake. We think + that Jones walks, and that there could not be any walking unless there + were somebody like Jones to perform the walking. But it is equally true + that there could be no Jones unless there were something like walking for + him to do. The notion that actions are performed by an agent is liable to + the same kind of criticism as the notion that thinking needs a subject or + ego, which we rejected in Lecture I. To say that it is Jones who is + walking is merely to say that the walking in question is part of the whole + series of occurrences which is Jones. There is no LOGICAL impossibility in + walking occurring as an isolated phenomenon, not forming part of any such + series as we call a "person." + </p> + <p> + We may therefore class with "eating," "walking," "speaking" words such as + "rain," "sunrise," "lightning," which do not denote what would commonly be + called actions. These words illustrate, incidentally, how little we can + trust to the grammatical distinction of parts of speech, since the + substantive "rain" and the verb "to rain" denote precisely the same class + of meteorological occurrences. The distinction between the class of + objects denoted by such a word and the class of objects denoted by a + general name such as "man," "vegetable," or "planet," is that the sort of + object which is an instance of (say) "lightning" is much simpler than + (say) an individual man. (I am speaking of lightning as a sensible + phenomenon, not as it is described in physics.) The distinction is one of + degree, not of kind. But there is, from the point of view of ordinary + thought, a great difference between a process which, like a flash of + lightning, can be wholly comprised within one specious present and a + process which, like the life of a man, has to be pieced together by + observation and memory and the apprehension of causal connections. We may + say broadly, therefore, that a word of the kind we have been discussing + denotes a set of similar occurrences, each (as a rule) much more brief and + less complex than a person or thing. Words themselves, as we have seen, + are sets of similar occurrences of this kind. Thus there is more logical + affinity between a word and what it means in the case of words of our + present sort than in any other case. + </p> + <p> + There is no very great difference between such words as we have just been + considering and words denoting qualities, such as "white" or "round." The + chief difference is that words of this latter sort do not denote + processes, however brief, but static features of the world. Snow falls, + and is white; the falling is a process, the whiteness is not. Whether + there is a universal, called "whiteness," or whether white things are to + be defined as those having a certain kind of similarity to a standard + thing, say freshly fallen snow, is a question which need not concern us, + and which I believe to be strictly insoluble. For our purposes, we may + take the word "white" as denoting a certain set of similar particulars or + collections of particulars, the similarity being in respect of a static + quality, not of a process. + </p> + <p> + From the logical point of view, a very important class of words are those + that express relations, such as "in," "above," "before," "greater," and so + on. The meaning of one of these words differs very fundamentally from the + meaning of one of any of our previous classes, being more abstract and + logically simpler than any of them. If our business were logic, we should + have to spend much time on these words. But as it is psychology that + concerns us, we will merely note their special character and pass on, + since the logical classification of words is not our main business. + </p> + <p> + We will consider next the question what is implied by saying that a person + "understands" a word, in the sense in which one understands a word in + one's own language, but not in a language of which one is ignorant. We may + say that a person understands a word when (a) suitable circumstances make + him use it, (b) the hearing of it causes suitable behaviour in him. We may + call these two active and passive understanding respectively. Dogs often + have passive understanding of some words, but not active understanding, + since they cannot use words. + </p> + <p> + It is not necessary, in order that a man should "understand" a word, that + he should "know what it means," in the sense of being able to say "this + word means so-and-so." Understanding words does not consist in knowing + their dictionary definitions, or in being able to specify the objects to + which they are appropriate. Such understanding as this may belong to + lexicographers and students, but not to ordinary mortals in ordinary life. + Understanding language is more like understanding cricket*: it is a matter + of habits, acquired in oneself and rightly presumed in others. To say that + a word has a meaning is not to say that those who use the word correctly + have ever thought out what the meaning is: the use of the word comes + first, and the meaning is to be distilled out of it by observation and + analysis. Moreover, the meaning of a word is not absolutely definite: + there is always a greater or less degree of vagueness. The meaning is an + area, like a target: it may have a bull's eye, but the outlying parts of + the target are still more or less within the meaning, in a gradually + diminishing degree as we travel further from the bull's eye. As language + grows more precise, there is less and less of the target outside the + bull's eye, and the bull's eye itself grows smaller and smaller; but the + bull's eye never shrinks to a point, and there is always a doubtful + region, however small, surrounding it.** + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * This point of view, extended to the analysis of "thought" + is urged with great force by J. B. Watson, both in his + "Behavior," and in "Psychology from the Standpoint of a + Behaviorist" (Lippincott. 1919), chap. ix. + + ** On the understanding of words, a very admirable little + book is Ribot's "Evolution of General Ideas," Open Court + Co., 1899. Ribot says (p. 131): "We learn to understand a + concept as we learn to walk, dance, fence or play a musical + instrument: it is a habit, i.e. an organized memory. General + terms cover an organized, latent knowledge which is the + hidden capital without which we should be in a state of + bankruptcy, manipulating false money or paper of no value. + General ideas are habits in the intellectual order." +</pre> + <p> + A word is used "correctly" when the average hearer will be affected by it + in the way intended. This is a psychological, not a literary, definition + of "correctness." The literary definition would substitute, for the + average hearer, a person of high education living a long time ago; the + purpose of this definition is to make it difficult to speak or write + correctly. + </p> + <p> + The relation of a word to its meaning is of the nature of a causal law + governing our use of the word and our actions when we hear it used. There + is no more reason why a person who uses a word correctly should be able to + tell what it means than there is why a planet which is moving correctly + should know Kepler's laws. + </p> + <p> + To illustrate what is meant by "understanding" words and sentences, let us + take instances of various situations. + </p> + <p> + Suppose you are walking in London with an absent-minded friend, and while + crossing a street you say, "Look out, there's a motor coming." He will + glance round and jump aside without the need of any "mental" intermediary. + There need be no "ideas," but only a stiffening of the muscles, followed + quickly by action. He "understands" the words, because he does the right + thing. Such "understanding" may be taken to belong to the nerves and + brain, being habits which they have acquired while the language was being + learnt. Thus understanding in this sense may be reduced to mere + physiological causal laws. + </p> + <p> + If you say the same thing to a Frenchman with a slight knowledge of + English he will go through some inner speech which may be represented by + "Que dit-il? Ah, oui, une automobile!" After this, the rest follows as + with the Englishman. Watson would contend that the inner speech must be + incipiently pronounced; we should argue that it MIGHT be merely imaged. + But this point is not important in the present connection. + </p> + <p> + If you say the same thing to a child who does not yet know the word + "motor," but does know the other words you are using, you produce a + feeling of anxiety and doubt you will have to point and say, "There, + that's a motor." After that the child will roughly understand the word + "motor," though he may include trains and steam-rollers If this is the + first time the child has heard the word "motor," he may for a long time + continue to recall this scene when he hears the word. + </p> + <p> + So far we have found four ways of understanding words: + </p> + <p> + (1) On suitable occasions you use the word properly. + </p> + <p> + (2) When you hear it you act appropriately. + </p> + <p> + (3) You associate the word with another word (say in a different language) + which has the appropriate effect on behaviour. + </p> + <p> + (4) When the word is being first learnt, you may associate it with an + object, which is what it "means," or a representative of various objects + that it "means." + </p> + <p> + In the fourth case, the word acquires, through association, some of the + same causal efficacy as the object. The word "motor" can make you leap + aside, just as the motor can, but it cannot break your bones. The effects + which a word can share with its object are those which proceed according + to laws other than the general laws of physics, i.e. those which, + according to our terminology, involve vital movements as opposed to merely + mechanical movements. The effects of a word that we understand are always + mnemic phenomena in the sense explained in Lecture IV, in so far as they + are identical with, or similar to, the effects which the object itself + might have. + </p> + <p> + So far, all the uses of words that we have considered can be accounted for + on the lines of behaviourism. + </p> + <p> + But so far we have only considered what may be called the "demonstrative" + use of language, to point out some feature in the present environment. + This is only one of the ways in which language may be used. There are also + its narrative and imaginative uses, as in history and novels. Let us take + as an instance the telling of some remembered event. + </p> + <p> + We spoke a moment ago of a child who hears the word "motor" for the first + time when crossing a street along which a motor-car is approaching. On a + later occasion, we will suppose, the child remembers the incident and + relates it to someone else. In this case, both the active and passive + understanding of words is different from what it is when words are used + demonstratively. The child is not seeing a motor, but only remembering + one; the hearer does not look round in expectation of seeing a motor + coming, but "understands" that a motor came at some earlier time. The + whole of this occurrence is much more difficult to account for on + behaviourist lines. It is clear that, in so far as the child is genuinely + remembering, he has a picture of the past occurrence, and his words are + chosen so as to describe the picture; and in so far as the hearer is + genuinely apprehending what is said, the hearer is acquiring a picture + more or less like that of the child. It is true that this process may be + telescoped through the operation of the word-habit. The child may not + genuinely remember the incident, but only have the habit of the + appropriate words, as in the case of a poem which we know by heart, though + we cannot remember learning it. And the hearer also may only pay attention + to the words, and not call up any corresponding picture. But it is, + nevertheless, the possibility of a memory-image in the child and an + imagination-image in the hearer that makes the essence of the narrative + "meaning" of the words. In so far as this is absent, the words are mere + counters, capable of meaning, but not at the moment possessing it. + </p> + <p> + Yet this might perhaps be regarded as something of an overstatement. The + words alone, without the use of images, may cause appropriate emotions and + appropriate behaviour. The words have been used in an environment which + produced certain emotions; by a telescoped process, the words alone are + now capable of producing similar emotions. On these lines it might be + sought to show that images are unnecessary. I do not believe, however, + that we could account on these lines for the entirely different response + produced by a narrative and by a description of present facts. Images, as + contrasted with sensations, are the response expected during a narrative; + it is understood that present action is not called for. Thus it seems that + we must maintain our distinction words used demonstratively describe and + are intended to lead to sensations, while the same words used in narrative + describe and are only intended to lead to images. + </p> + <p> + We have thus, in addition to our four previous ways in which words can + mean, two new ways, namely the way of memory and the way of imagination. + That is to say: + </p> + <p> + (5) Words may be used to describe or recall a memory-image: to describe it + when it already exists, or to recall it when the words exist as a habit + and are known to be descriptive of some past experience. + </p> + <p> + (6) Words may be used to describe or create an imagination-image: to + describe it, for example, in the case of a poet or novelist, or to create + it in the ordinary case for giving information-though, in the latter case, + it is intended that the imagination-image, when created, shall be + accompanied by belief that something of the sort occurred. + </p> + <p> + These two ways of using words, including their occurrence in inner speech, + may be spoken of together as the use of words in "thinking." If we are + right, the use of words in thinking depends, at least in its origin, upon + images, and cannot be fully dealt with on behaviourist lines. And this is + really the most essential function of words, namely that, originally + through their connection with images, they bring us into touch with what + is remote in time or space. When they operate without the medium of + images, this seems to be a telescoped process. Thus the problem of the + meaning of words is brought into connection with the problem of the + meaning of images. + </p> + <p> + To understand the function that words perform in what is called + "thinking," we must understand both the causes and the effects of their + occurrence. The causes of the occurrence of words require somewhat + different treatment according as the object designated by the word is + sensibly present or absent. When the object is present, it may itself be + taken as the cause of the word, through association. But when it is absent + there is more difficulty in obtaining a behaviourist theory of the + occurrence of the word. The language-habit consists not merely in the use + of words demonstratively, but also in their use to express narrative or + desire. Professor Watson, in his account of the acquisition of the + language-habit, pays very little attention to the use of words in + narrative and desire. He says ("Behavior," pp. 329-330): + </p> + <p> + "The stimulus (object) to which the child often responds, a box, e.g. by + movements such as opening and closing and putting objects into it, may + serve to illustrate our argument. The nurse, observing that the child + reacts with his hands, feet, etc., to the box, begins to say 'box' when + the child is handed the box, 'open box' when the child opens it, 'close + box' when he closes it, and 'put doll in box' when that act is executed. + This is repeated over and over again. In the process of time it comes + about that without any other stimulus than that of the box which + originally called out the bodily habits, he begins to say 'box' when he + sees it, 'open box' when he opens it, etc. The visible box now becomes a + stimulus capable of releasing either the bodily habits or the word-habit, + i.e. development has brought about two things: (1) a series of functional + connections among arcs which run from visual receptor to muscles of + throat, and (2) a series of already earlier connected arcs which run from + the same receptor to the bodily muscles.... The object meets the child's + vision. He runs to it and tries to reach it and says 'box.'... Finally the + word is uttered without the movement of going towards the box being + executed.... Habits are formed of going to the box when the arms are full + of toys. The child has been taught to deposit them there. When his arms + are laden with toys and no box is there, the word-habit arises and he + calls 'box'; it is handed to him, and he opens it and deposits the toys + therein. This roughly marks what we would call the genesis of a true + language-habit."(pp. 329-330).* + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * Just the same account of language is given in Professor + Watson's more recent book (reference above). +</pre> + <p> + We need not linger over what is said in the above passage as to the use of + the word "box" in the presence of the box. But as to its use in the + absence of the box, there is only one brief sentence, namely: "When his + arms are laden with toys and no box is there, the word-habit arises and he + calls 'box.'" This is inadequate as it stands, since the habit has been to + use the word when the box is present, and we have to explain its extension + to cases in which the box is absent. + </p> + <p> + Having admitted images, we may say that the word "box," in the absence of + the box, is caused by an image of the box. This may or may not be true—in + fact, it is true in some cases but not in others. Even, however, if it + were true in all cases, it would only slightly shift our problem: we + should now have to ask what causes an image of the box to arise. We might + be inclined to say that desire for the box is the cause. But when this + view is investigated, it is found that it compels us to suppose that the + box can be desired without the child's having either an image of the box + or the word "box." This will require a theory of desire which may be, and + I think is, in the main true, but which removes desire from among things + that actually occur, and makes it merely a convenient fiction, like force + in mechanics.* With such a view, desire is no longer a true cause, but + merely a short way of describing certain processes. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * See Lecture III, above. +</pre> + <p> + In order to explain the occurrence of either the word or the image in the + absence of the box, we have to assume that there is something, either in + the environment or in our own sensations, which has frequently occurred at + about the same time as the word "box." One of the laws which distinguish + psychology (or nerve-physiology?) from physics is the law that, when two + things have frequently existed in close temporal contiguity, either comes + in time to cause the other.* This is the basis both of habit and of + association. Thus, in our case, the arms full of toys have frequently been + followed quickly by the box, and the box in turn by the word "box." The + box itself is subject to physical laws, and does not tend to be caused by + the arms full of toys, however often it may in the past have followed them—always + provided that, in the case in question, its physical position is such that + voluntary movements cannot lead to it. But the word "box" and the image of + the box are subject to the law of habit; hence it is possible for either + to be caused by the arms full of toys. And we may lay it down generally + that, whenever we use a word, either aloud or in inner speech, there is + some sensation or image (either of which may be itself a word) which has + frequently occurred at about the same time as the word, and now, through + habit, causes the word. It follows that the law of habit is adequate to + account for the use of words in the absence of their objects; moreover, it + would be adequate even without introducing images. Although, therefore, + images seem undeniable, we cannot derive an additional argument in their + favour from the use of words, which could, theoretically, be explained + without introducing images. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + *For a more exact statement of this law, with the + limitations suggested by experiment, see A. Wohlgemuth, "On + Memory and the Direction of Associations," "British Journal + of Psychology," vol. v, part iv (March, 1913). +</pre> + <p> + When we understand a word, there is a reciprocal association between it + and the images of what it "means." Images may cause us to use words which + mean them, and these words, heard or read, may in turn cause the + appropriate images. Thus speech is a means of producing in our hearers the + images which are in us. Also, by a telescoped process, words come in time + to produce directly the effects which would have been produced by the + images with which they were associated. The general law of telescoped + processes is that, if A causes B and B causes C, it will happen in time + that A will cause C directly, without the intermediary of B. This is a + characteristic of psychological and neural causation. In virtue of this + law, the effects of images upon our actions come to be produced by words, + even when the words do not call up appropriate images. The more familiar + we are with words, the more our "thinking" goes on in words instead of + images. We may, for example, be able to describe a person's appearance + correctly without having at any time had any image of him, provided, when + we saw him, we thought of words which fitted him; the words alone may + remain with us as a habit, and enable us to speak as if we could recall a + visual image of the man. In this and other ways the understanding of a + word often comes to be quite free from imagery; but in first learning the + use of language it would seem that imagery always plays a very important + part. + </p> + <p> + Images as well as words may be said to have "meaning"; indeed, the meaning + of images seems more primitive than the meaning of words. What we call + (say) an image of St. Paul's may be said to "mean" St. Paul's. But it is + not at all easy to say exactly what constitutes the meaning of an image. A + memory-image of a particular occurrence, when accompanied by a + memory-belief, may be said to mean the occurrence of which it is an image. + But most actual images do not have this degree of definiteness. If we call + up an image of a dog, we are very likely to have a vague image, which is + not representative of some one special dog, but of dogs in general. When + we call up an image of a friend's face, we are not likely to reproduce the + expression he had on some one particular occasion, but rather a compromise + expression derived from many occasions. And there is hardly any limit to + the vagueness of which images are capable. In such cases, the meaning of + the image, if defined by relation to the prototype, is vague: there is not + one definite prototype, but a number, none of which is copied exactly.* + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * Cf. Semon, Mnemische Empfindungen, chap. xvi, especially + pp. 301-308. +</pre> + <p> + There is, however, another way of approaching the meaning of images, + namely through their causal efficacy. What is called an image "of" some + definite object, say St. Paul's, has some of the effects which the object + would have. This applies especially to the effects that depend upon + association. The emotional effects, also, are often similar: images may + stimulate desire almost as strongly as do the objects they represent. And + conversely desire may cause images*: a hungry man will have images of + food, and so on. In all these ways the causal laws concerning images are + connected with the causal laws concerning the objects which the images + "mean." An image may thus come to fulfil the function of a general idea. + The vague image of a dog, which we spoke of a moment ago, will have + effects which are only connected with dogs in general, not the more + special effects which would be produced by some dogs but not by others. + Berkeley and Hume, in their attack on general ideas, do not allow for the + vagueness of images: they assume that every image has the definiteness + that a physical object would have This is not the case, and a vague image + may well have a meaning which is general. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * This phrase is in need of interpretation, as appears from + the analysis of desire. But the reader can easily supply the + interpretation for himself. +</pre> + <p> + In order to define the "meaning" of an image, we have to take account both + of its resemblance to one or more prototypes, and of its causal efficacy. + If there were such a thing as a pure imagination-image, without any + prototype whatever, it would be destitute of meaning. But according to + Hume's principle, the simple elements in an image, at least, are derived + from prototypes-except possibly in very rare exceptional cases. Often, in + such instances as our image of a friend's face or of a nondescript dog, an + image is not derived from one prototype, but from many; when this happens, + the image is vague, and blurs the features in which the various prototypes + differ. To arrive at the meaning of the image in such a case, we observe + that there are certain respects, notably associations, in which the + effects of images resemble those of their prototypes. If we find, in a + given case, that our vague image, say, of a nondescript dog, has those + associative effects which all dogs would have, but not those belonging to + any special dog or kind of dog, we may say that our image means "dog" in + general. If it has all the associations appropriate to spaniels but no + others, we shall say it means "spaniel"; while if it has all the + associations appropriate to one particular dog, it will mean that dog, + however vague it may be as a picture. The meaning of an image, according + to this analysis, is constituted by a combination of likeness and + associations. It is not a sharp or definite conception, and in many cases + it will be impossible to decide with any certainty what an image means. I + think this lies in the nature of things, and not in defective analysis. + </p> + <p> + We may give somewhat more precision to the above account of the meaning of + images, and extend it to meaning in general. We find sometimes that, IN + MNEMIC CAUSATION, an image or word, as stimulus, has the same effect (or + very nearly the same effect) as would belong to some object, say, a + certain dog. In that case we say that the image or word means that object. + In other cases the mnemic effects are not all those of one object, but + only those shared by objects of a certain kind, e.g. by all dogs. In this + case the meaning of the image or word is general: it means the whole kind. + Generality and particularity are a matter of degree. If two particulars + differ sufficiently little, their mnemic effects will be the same; + therefore no image or word can mean the one as opposed to the other; this + sets a bound to the particularity of meaning. On the other hand, the + mnemic effects of a number of sufficiently dissimilar objects will have + nothing discoverable in common; hence a word which aims at complete + generality, such as "entity" for example, will have to be devoid of mnemic + effects, and therefore of meaning. In practice, this is not the case: such + words have VERBAL associations, the learning of which constitutes the + study of metaphysics. + </p> + <p> + The meaning of a word, unlike that of an image, is wholly constituted by + mnemic causal laws, and not in any degree by likeness (except in + exceptional cases). The word "dog" bears no resemblance to a dog, but its + effects, like those of an image of a dog, resemble the effects of an + actual dog in certain respects. It is much easier to say definitely what a + word means than what an image means, since words, however they originated, + have been framed in later times for the purpose of having meaning, and men + have been engaged for ages in giving increased precision to the meanings + of words. But although it is easier to say what a word means than what an + image means, the relation which constitutes meaning is much the same in + both cases. A word, like an image, has the same associations as its + meaning has. In addition to other associations, it is associated with + images of its meaning, so that the word tends to call up the image and the + image tends to call up the word., But this association is not essential to + the intelligent use of words. If a word has the right associations with + other objects, we shall be able to use it correctly, and understand its + use by others, even if it evokes no image. The theoretical understanding + of words involves only the power of associating them correctly with other + words; the practical understanding involves associations with other bodily + movements. + </p> + <p> + The use of words is, of course, primarily social, for the purpose of + suggesting to others ideas which we entertain or at least wish them to + entertain. But the aspect of words that specially concerns us is their + power of promoting our own thought. Almost all higher intellectual + activity is a matter of words, to the nearly total exclusion of everything + else. The advantages of words for purposes of thought are so great that I + should never end if I were to enumerate them. But a few of them deserve to + be mentioned. + </p> + <p> + In the first place, there is no difficulty in producing a word, whereas an + image cannot always be brought into existence at will, and when it comes + it often contains much irrelevant detail. In the second place, much of our + thinking is concerned with abstract matters which do not readily lend + themselves to imagery, and are apt to be falsely conceived if we insist + upon finding images that may be supposed to represent them. The word is + always concrete and sensible, however abstract its meaning may be, and + thus by the help of words we are able to dwell on abstractions in a way + which would otherwise be impossible. In the third place, two instances of + the same word are so similar that neither has associations not capable of + being shared by the other. Two instances of the word "dog" are much more + alike than (say) a pug and a great dane; hence the word "dog" makes it + much easier to think about dogs in general. When a number of objects have + a common property which is important but not obvious, the invention of a + name for the common property helps us to remember it and to think of the + whole set of objects that possess it. But it is unnecessary to prolong the + catalogue of the uses of language in thought. + </p> + <p> + At the same time, it is possible to conduct rudimentary thought by means + of images, and it is important, sometimes, to check purely verbal thought + by reference to what it means. In philosophy especially the tyranny of + traditional words is dangerous, and we have to be on our guard against + assuming that grammar is the key to metaphysics, or that the structure of + a sentence corresponds at all accurately with the structure of the fact + that it asserts. Sayce maintained that all European philosophy since + Aristotle has been dominated by the fact that the philosophers spoke + Indo-European languages, and therefore supposed the world, like the + sentences they were used to, necessarily divisible into subjects and + predicates. When we come to the consideration of truth and falsehood, we + shall see how necessary it is to avoid assuming too close a parallelism + between facts and the sentences which assert them. Against such errors, + the only safeguard is to be able, once in a way, to discard words for a + moment and contemplate facts more directly through images. Most serious + advances in philosophic thought result from some such comparatively direct + contemplation of facts. But the outcome has to be expressed in words if it + is to be communicable. Those who have a relatively direct vision of facts + are often incapable of translating their vision into words, while those + who possess the words have usually lost the vision. It is partly for this + reason that the highest philosophical capacity is so rare: it requires a + combination of vision with abstract words which is hard to achieve, and + too quickly lost in the few who have for a moment achieved it. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0014" id="link2H_4_0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LECTURE XI. GENERAL IDEAS AND THOUGHT + </h2> + <p> + It is said to be one of the merits of the human mind that it is capable of + framing abstract ideas, and of conducting nonsensational thought. In this + it is supposed to differ from the mind of animals. From Plato onward the + "idea" has played a great part in the systems of idealizing philosophers. + The "idea" has been, in their hands, always something noble and abstract, + the apprehension and use of which by man confers upon him a quite special + dignity. + </p> + <p> + The thing we have to consider to-day is this: seeing that there certainly + are words of which the meaning is abstract, and seeing that we can use + these words intelligently, what must be assumed or inferred, or what can + be discovered by observation, in the way of mental content to account for + the intelligent use of abstract words? + </p> + <p> + Taken as a problem in logic, the answer is, of course, that absolutely + nothing in the way of abstract mental content is inferable from the mere + fact that we can use intelligently words of which the meaning is abstract. + It is clear that a sufficiently ingenious person could manufacture a + machine moved by olfactory stimuli which, whenever a dog appeared in its + neighbourhood, would say, "There is a dog," and when a cat appeared would + throw stones at it. The act of saying "There is a dog," and the act of + throwing stones, would in such a case be equally mechanical. Correct + speech does not of itself afford any better evidence of mental content + than the performance of any other set of biologically useful movements, + such as those of flight or combat. All that is inferable from language is + that two instances of a universal, even when they differ very greatly, may + cause the utterance of two instances of the same word which only differ + very slightly. As we saw in the preceding lecture, the word "dog" is + useful, partly, because two instances of this word are much more similar + than (say) a pug and a great dane. The use of words is thus a method of + substituting for two particulars which differ widely, in spite of being + instances of the same universal, two other particulars which differ very + little, and which are also instances of a universal, namely the name of + the previous universal. Thus, so far as logic is concerned, we are + entirely free to adopt any theory as to general ideas which empirical + observation may recommend. + </p> + <p> + Berkeley and Hume made a vigorous onslaught on "abstract ideas." They + meant by an idea approximately what we should call an image. Locke having + maintained that he could form an idea of triangle in general, without + deciding what sort of triangle it was to be, Berkeley contended that this + was impossible. He says: + </p> + <p> + "Whether others, have this wonderful faculty of abstracting their ideas, + they best can tell: for myself, I dare be confident I have it not. I find, + indeed, I have indeed a faculty of imagining, or representing to myself, + the ideas of those particular things I have perceived, and of variously + compounding and dividing them. I can imagine a man with two heads, or the + upper parts of a man joined to the body of a horse. I can consider the + hand, the eye, the nose, each by itself abstracted or separated from the + rest of the body. But, then, whatever hand or eye I imagine, it must have + some particular shape and colour. Likewise the idea of a man that I frame + to myself must be either of a white, or a black, or a tawny, a straight, + or a crooked, a tall, or a low, or a middle-sized man. I cannot by any + effort of thought conceive the abstract idea above described. And it is + equally impossible for me to form the abstract idea of motion distinct + from the body moving, and which is neither swift nor slow, curvilinear nor + rectilinear; and the like may be said of all other abstract general ideas + whatsoever. To be plain, I own myself able to abstract in one sense, as + when I consider some particular parts of qualities separated from others, + with which, though they are united in some object, yet it is possible they + may really exist without them. But I deny that I can abstract from one + another, or conceive separately, those qualities which it is impossible + should exist so separated; or that I can frame a general notion, by + abstracting from particulars in the manner aforesaid—which last are + the two proper acceptations of ABSTRACTION. And there is ground to think + most men will acknowledge themselves to be in my case. The generality of + men which are simple and illiterate never pretend to ABSTRACT NOTIONS. It + is said they are difficult and not to be attained without pains and study; + we may therefore reasonably conclude that, if such there be, they are + confined only to the learned. + </p> + <p> + "I proceed to examine what can be alleged in defence of the doctrine of + abstraction, and try if I can discover what it is that inclines the men of + speculation to embrace an opinion so remote from common sense as that + seems to be. There has been a late excellent and deservedly esteemed + philosopher who, no doubt, has given it very much countenance, by seeming + to think the having abstract general ideas is what puts the widest + difference in point of understanding betwixt man and beast. 'The having of + general ideas,' saith he, 'is that which puts a perfect distinction + betwixt man and brutes, and is an excellency which the faculties of brutes + do by no means attain unto. For, it is evident we observe no footsteps in + them of making use of general signs for universal ideas; from which we + have reason to imagine that they have not the faculty of abstracting, or + making general ideas, since they have no use of words or any other general + signs.' And a little after: 'Therefore, I think, we may suppose that it is + in this that the species of brutes are discriminated from men, and it is + that proper difference wherein they are wholly separated, and which at + last widens to so wide a distance. For, if they have any ideas at all, and + are not bare machines (as some would have them), we cannot deny them to + have some reason. It seems as evident to me that they do, some of them, in + certain instances reason as that they have sense; but it is only in + particular ideas, just as they receive them from their senses. They are + the best of them tied up within those narrow bounds, and have not (as I + think) the faculty to enlarge them by any kind of abstraction.* ("Essay on + Human Understanding," Bk. II, chap. xi, paragraphs 10 and 11.) I readily + agree with this learned author, that the faculties of brutes can by no + means attain to abstraction. But, then, if this be made the distinguishing + property of that sort of animals, I fear a great many of those that pass + for men must be reckoned into their number. The reason that is here + assigned why we have no grounds to think brutes have abstract general + ideas is, that we observe in them no use of words or any other general + signs; which is built on this supposition-that the making use of words + implies the having general ideas. From which it follows that men who use + language are able to abstract or generalize their ideas. That this is the + sense and arguing of the author will further appear by his answering the + question he in another place puts: 'Since all things that exist are only + particulars, how come we by general terms?' His answer is: 'Words become + general by being made the signs of general ideas.' ("Essay on Human + Understanding," Bk. III, chap. III, paragraph 6.) But it seems that a word + becomes general by being made the sign, not of an abstract general idea, + but of several particular ideas, any one of which it indifferently + suggests to the mind. For example, when it is said 'the change of motion + is proportional to the impressed force,' or that 'whatever has extension + is divisible,' these propositions are to be understood of motion and + extension in general; and nevertheless it will not follow that they + suggest to my thoughts an idea of motion without a body moved, or any + determinate direction and velocity, or that I must conceive an abstract + general idea of extension, which is neither line, surface, nor solid, + neither great nor small, black, white, nor red, nor of any other + determinate colour. It is only implied that whatever particular motion I + consider, whether it be swift or slow, perpendicular, horizontal, or + oblique, or in whatever object, the axiom concerning it holds equally + true. As does the other of every particular extension, it matters not + whether line, surface, or solid, whether of this or that magnitude or + figure. + </p> + <p> + "By observing how ideas become general, we may the better judge how words + are made so. And here it is to be noted that I do not deny absolutely + there are general ideas, but only that there are any ABSTRACT general + ideas; for, in the passages we have quoted wherein there is mention of + general ideas, it is always supposed that they are formed by abstraction, + after the manner set forth in sections 8 and 9. Now, if we will annex a + meaning to our words, and speak only of what we can conceive, I believe we + shall acknowledge that an idea which, considered in itself, is particular, + becomes general by being made to represent or stand for all other + particular ideas of the same sort. To make this plain by an example, + suppose a geometrician is demonstrating the method of cutting a line in + two equal parts. He draws, for instance, a black line of an inch in + length: this, which in itself is a particular line, is nevertheless with + regard to its signification general, since, as it is there used, it + represents all particular lines whatsoever; so that what is demonstrated + of it is demonstrated of all lines, or, in other words, of a line in + general. And, as THAT PARTICULAR LINE becomes general by being made a + sign, so the NAME 'line,' which taken absolutely is particular, by being a + sign is made general. And as the former owes its generality not to its + being the sign of an abstract or general line, but of all particular right + lines that may possibly exist, so the latter must be thought to derive its + generality from the same cause, namely, the various particular lines which + it indifferently denotes." * + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * Introduction to "A Treatise concerning the Principles of + Human Knowledge," paragraphs 10, 11, and 12. +</pre> + <p> + Berkeley's view in the above passage, which is essentially the same as + Hume's, does not wholly agree with modern psychology, although it comes + nearer to agreement than does the view of those who believe that there are + in the mind single contents which can be called abstract ideas. The way in + which Berkeley's view is inadequate is chiefly in the fact that images are + as a rule not of one definite prototype, but of a number of related + similar prototypes. On this subject Semon has written well. In "Die + Mneme," pp. 217 ff., discussing the effect of repeated similar stimuli in + producing and modifying our images, he says: "We choose a case of mnemic + excitement whose existence we can perceive for ourselves by introspection, + and seek to ekphore the bodily picture of our nearest relation in his + absence, and have thus a pure mnemic excitement before us. At first it may + seem to us that a determinate quite concrete picture becomes manifest in + us, but just when we are concerned with a person with whom we are in + constant contact, we shall find that the ekphored picture has something so + to speak generalized. It is something like those American photographs + which seek to display what is general about a type by combining a great + number of photographs of different heads over each other on one plate. In + our opinion, the generalizations happen by the homophonic working of + different pictures of the same face which we have come across in the most + different conditions and situations, once pale, once reddened, once + cheerful, once earnest, once in this light, and once in that. As soon as + we do not let the whole series of repetitions resound in us uniformly, but + give our attention to one particular moment out of the many... this + particular mnemic stimulus at once overbalances its simultaneously roused + predecessors and successors, and we perceive the face in question with + concrete definiteness in that particular situation." A little later he + says: "The result is—at least in man, but probably also in the + higher animals—the development of a sort of PHYSIOLOGICAL + abstraction. Mnemic homophony gives us, without the addition of other + processes of thought, a picture of our friend X which is in a certain + sense abstract, not the concrete in any one situation, but X cut loose + from any particular point of time. If the circle of ekphored engrams is + drawn even more widely, abstract pictures of a higher order appear: for + instance, a white man or a negro. In my opinion, the first form of + abstract concepts in general is based upon such abstract pictures. The + physiological abstraction which takes place in the above described manner + is a predecessor of purely logical abstraction. It is by no means a + monopoly of the human race, but shows itself in various ways also among + the more highly organized animals." The same subject is treated in more + detail in Chapter xvi of "Die mnemischen Empfindungen," but what is said + there adds nothing vital to what is contained in the above quotations. + </p> + <p> + It is necessary, however, to distinguish between the vague and the + general. So long as we are content with Semon's composite image, we MAY + get no farther than the vague. The question whether this image takes us to + the general or not depends, I think, upon the question whether, in + addition to the generalized image, we have also particular images of some + of the instances out of which it is compounded. Suppose, for example, that + on a number of occasions you had seen one negro, and that you did not know + whether this one was the same or different on the different occasions. + Suppose that in the end you had an abstract memory-image of the different + appearances presented by the negro on different occasions, but no + memory-image of any one of the single appearances. In that case your image + would be vague. If, on the other hand, you have, in addition to the + generalized image, particular images of the several appearances, + sufficiently clear to be recognized as different, and as instances of the + generalized picture, you will then not feel the generalized picture to be + adequate to any one particular appearance, and you will be able to make it + function as a general idea rather than a vague idea. If this view is + correct, no new general content needs to be added to the generalized + image. What needs to be added is particular images compared and contrasted + with the generalized image. So far as I can judge by introspection, this + does occur in practice. Take for example Semon's instance of a friend's + face. Unless we make some special effort of recollection, the face is + likely to come before us with an average expression, very blurred and + vague, but we can at will recall how our friend looked on some special + occasion when he was pleased or angry or unhappy, and this enables us to + realize the generalized character of the vague image. + </p> + <p> + There is, however, another way of distinguishing between the vague, the + particular and the general, and this is not by their content, but by the + reaction which they produce. A word, for example, may be said to be vague + when it is applicable to a number of different individuals, but to each as + individuals; the name Smith, for example, is vague: it is always meant to + apply to one man, but there are many men to each of whom it applies.* The + word "man," on the other hand, is general. We say, "This is Smith," but we + do not say "This is man," but "This is a man." Thus we may say that a word + embodies a vague idea when its effects are appropriate to an individual, + but are the same for various similar individuals, while a word embodies a + general idea when its effects are different from those appropriate to + individuals. In what this difference consists it is, however, not easy to + say. I am inclined to think that it consists merely in the knowledge that + no one individual is represented, so that what distinguishes a general + idea from a vague idea is merely the presence of a certain accompanying + belief. If this view is correct, a general idea differs from a vague one + in a way analogous to that in which a memory-image differs from an + imagination-image. There also we found that the difference consists merely + of the fact that a memory-image is accompanied by a belief, in this case + as to the past. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * "Smith" would only be a quite satisfactory representation + of vague words if we failed to discriminate between + different people called Smith. +</pre> + <p> + It should also be said that our images even of quite particular + occurrences have always a greater or a less degree of vagueness. That is + to say, the occurrence might have varied within certain limits without + causing our image to vary recognizably. To arrive at the general it is + necessary that we should be able to contrast it with a number of + relatively precise images or words for particular occurrences; so long as + all our images and words are vague, we cannot arrive at the contrast by + which the general is defined. This is the justification for the view which + I quoted on p. 184 from Ribot (op. cit., p. 32), viz. that intelligence + progresses from the indefinite to the definite, and that the vague appears + earlier than either the particular or the general. + </p> + <p> + I think the view which I have been advocating, to the effect that a + general idea is distinguished from a vague one by the presence of a + judgment, is also that intended by Ribot when he says (op. cit., p. 92): + "The generic image is never, the concept is always, a judgment. We know + that for logicians (formerly at any rate) the concept is the simple and + primitive element; next comes the judgment, uniting two or several + concepts; then ratiocination, combining two or several judgments. For the + psychologists, on the contrary, affirmation is the fundamental act; the + concept is the result of judgment (explicit or implicit), of similarities + with exclusion of differences." + </p> + <p> + A great deal of work professing to be experimental has been done in recent + years on the psychology of thought. A good summary of such work up to the + year agog is contained in Titchener's "Lectures on the Experimental + Psychology of the Thought Processes" (1909). Three articles in the "Archiv + fur die gesammte Psychologie" by Watt,* Messer** and Buhler*** contain a + great deal of the material amassed by the methods which Titchener calls + experimental. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * Henry J. Watt, "Experimentelle Beitrage zu einer Theorie + des Denkens," vol. iv (1905) pp. 289-436. + + ** August Messer, "Experimentell-psychologische Untersuchu + gen uber das Denken," vol. iii (1906), pp. 1-224. + + *** Karl Buhler, "Uber Gedanken," vol. ix (1907), pp. 297-365. +</pre> + <p> + For my part I am unable to attach as much importance to this work as many + psychologists do. The method employed appears to me hardly to fulfil the + conditions of scientific experiment. Broadly speaking, what is done is, + that a set of questions are asked of various people, their answers are + recorded, and likewise their own accounts, based upon introspection, of + the processes of thought which led them to give those answers. Much too + much reliance seems to me to be placed upon the correctness of their + introspection. On introspection as a method I have spoken earlier (Lecture + VI). I am not prepared, like Professor Watson, to reject it wholly, but I + do consider that it is exceedingly fallible and quite peculiarly liable to + falsification in accordance with preconceived theory. It is like depending + upon the report of a shortsighted person as to whom he sees coming along + the road at a moment when he is firmly convinced that Jones is sure to + come. If everybody were shortsighted and obsessed with beliefs as to what + was going to be visible, we might have to make the best of such testimony, + but we should need to correct its errors by taking care to collect the + simultaneous evidence of people with the most divergent expectations. + There is no evidence that this was done in the experiments in question, + nor indeed that the influence of theory in falsifying the introspection + was at all adequately recognized. I feel convinced that if Professor + Watson had been one of the subjects of the questionnaires, he would have + given answers totally different from those recorded in the articles in + question. Titchener quotes an opinion of Wundt on these investigations, + which appears to me thoroughly justified. "These experiments," he says, + "are not experiments at all in the sense of a scientific methodology; they + are counterfeit experiments, that seem methodical simply because they are + ordinarily performed in a psychological laboratory, and involve the + co-operation of two persons, who purport to be experimenter and observer. + In reality, they are as unmethodical as possible; they possess none of the + special features by which we distinguish the introspections of + experimental psychology from the casual introspections of everyday life."* + Titchener, of course, dissents from this opinion, but I cannot see that + his reasons for dissent are adequate. My doubts are only increased by the + fact that Buhler at any rate used trained psychologists as his subjects. A + trained psychologist is, of course, supposed to have acquired the habit of + observation, but he is at least equally likely to have acquired a habit of + seeing what his theories require. We may take Buhler's "Uber Gedanken" to + illustrate the kind of results arrived at by such methods. Buhler says (p. + 303): "We ask ourselves the general question: 'WHAT DO WE EXPERIENCE WHEN + WE THINK?' Then we do not at all attempt a preliminary determination of + the concept 'thought,' but choose for analysis only such processes as + everyone would describe as processes of thought." The most important thing + in thinking, he says, is "awareness that..." (Bewusstheit dass), which he + calls a thought. It is, he says, thoughts in this sense that are essential + to thinking. Thinking, he maintains, does not need language or sensuous + presentations. "I assert rather that in principle every object can be + thought (meant) distinctly, without any help from sensuous presentation + (Anschauungshilfen). Every individual shade of blue colour on the picture + that hangs in my room I can think with complete distinctness unsensuously + (unanschaulich), provided it is possible that the object should be given + to me in another manner than by the help of sensations. How that is + possible we shall see later." What he calls a thought (Gedanke) cannot be + reduced, according to him, to other psychic occurrences. He maintains that + thoughts consist for the most part of known rules (p. 342). It is clearly + essential to the interest of this theory that the thought or rule alluded + to by Buhler should not need to be expressed in words, for if it is + expressed in words it is immediately capable of being dealt with on the + lines with which the behaviourists have familiarized us. It is clear also + that the supposed absence of words rests solely upon the introspective + testimony of the persons experimented upon. I cannot think that there is + sufficient certainty of their reliability in this negative observation to + make us accept a difficult and revolutionary view of thought, merely + because they have failed to observe the presence of words or their + equivalent in their thinking. I think it far more likely, especially in + view of the fact that the persons concerned were highly educated, that we + are concerned with telescoped processes, in which habit has caused a great + many intermediate terms to be elided or to be passed over so quickly as to + escape observation. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * Titchener, op. cit., p. 79. +</pre> + <p> + I am inclined to think that similar remarks apply to the general idea of + "imageless thinking," concerning which there has been much controversy. + The advocates of imageless thinking are not contending merely that there + can be thinking which is purely verbal; they are contending that there can + be thinking which proceeds neither in words nor in images. My own feeling + is that they have rashly assumed the presence of thinking in cases where + habit has rendered thinking unnecessary. When Thorndike experimented with + animals in cages, he found that the associations established were between + a sensory stimulus and a bodily movement (not the idea of it), without the + need of supposing any non-physiological intermediary (op. cit., p. 100 + ff.). The same thing, it seems to me, applies to ourselves. A certain + sensory situation produces in us a certain bodily movement. Sometimes this + movement consists in uttering words. Prejudice leads us to suppose that + between the sensory stimulus and the utterance of the words a process of + thought must have intervened, but there seems no good reason for such a + supposition. Any habitual action, such as eating or dressing, may be + performed on the appropriate occasion, without any need of thought, and + the same seems to be true of a painfully large proportion of our talk. + What applies to uttered speech applies of course equally to the internal + speech which is not uttered. I remain, therefore, entirely unconvinced + that there is any such phenomenon as thinking which consists neither of + images nor of words, or that "ideas" have to be added to sensations and + images as part of the material out of which mental phenomena are built. + </p> + <p> + The question of the nature of our consciousness of the universal is much + affected by our view as to the general nature of the relation of + consciousness to its object. If we adopt the view of Brentano, according + to which all mental content has essential reference to an object, it is + then natural to suppose that there is some peculiar kind of mental content + of which the object is a universal, as oppose to a particular. According + to this view, a particular cat can be PERceived or imagined, while the + universal "cat" is CONceived. But this whole manner of viewing our + dealings with universals has to be abandoned when the relation of a mental + occurrence to its "object" is regarded as merely indirect and causal, + which is the view that we have adopted. The mental content is, of course, + always particular, and the question as to what it "means" (in case it + means anything) is one which cannot be settled by merely examining the + intrinsic character of the mental content, but only by knowing its causal + connections in the case of the person concerned. To say that a certain + thought "means" a universal as opposed to either a vague or a particular, + is to say something exceedingly complex. A horse will behave in a certain + manner whenever he smells a bear, even if the smell is derived from a + bearskin. That is to say, any environment containing an instance of the + universal "smell of a bear" produces closely similar behaviour in the + horse, but we do not say that the horse is conscious of this universal. + There is equally little reason to regard a man as conscious of the same + universal, because under the same circumstances he can react by saying, "I + smell a bear." This reaction, like that of the horse, is merely closely + similar on different occasions where the environment affords instances of + the same universal. Words of which the logical meaning is universal can + therefore be employed correctly, without anything that could be called + consciousness of universals. Such consciousness in the only sense in which + it can be said to exist is a matter of reflective judgment consisting in + the observation of similarities and differences. A universal never appears + before the mind as a single object in the sort of way in which something + perceived appears. I THINK a logical argument could be produced to show + that universals are part of the structure of the world, but they are an + inferred part, not a part of our data. What exists in us consists of + various factors, some open to external observation, others only visible to + introspection. The factors open to external observation are primarily + habits, having the peculiarity that very similar reactions are produced by + stimuli which are in many respects very different from each other. Of this + the reaction of the horse to the smell of the bear is an instance, and so + is the reaction of the man who says "bear" under the same circumstances. + The verbal reaction is, of course, the most important from the point of + view of what may be called knowledge of universals. A man who can always + use the word "dog" when he sees a dog may be said, in a certain sense, to + know the meaning of the word "dog," and IN THAT SENSE to have knowledge of + the universal "dog." But there is, of course, a further stage reached by + the logician in which he not merely reacts with the word "dog," but sets + to work to discover what it is in the environment that causes in him this + almost identical reaction on different occasions. This further stage + consists in knowledge of similarities and differences: similarities which + are necessary to the applicability of the word "dog," and differences + which are compatible with it. Our knowledge of these similarities and + differences is never exhaustive, and therefore our knowledge of the + meaning of a universal is never complete. + </p> + <p> + In addition to external observable habits (including the habit of words), + there is also the generic image produced by the superposition, or, in + Semon's phrase, homophony, of a number of similar perceptions. This image + is vague so long as the multiplicity of its prototypes is not recognized, + but becomes universal when it exists alongside of the more specific images + of its instances, and is knowingly contrasted with them. In this case we + find again, as we found when we were discussing words in general in the + preceding lecture, that images are not logically necessary in order to + account for observable behaviour, i.e. in this case intelligent speech. + Intelligent speech could exist as a motor habit, without any accompaniment + of images, and this conclusion applies to words of which the meaning is + universal, just as much as to words of which the meaning is relatively + particular. If this conclusion is valid, it follows that behaviourist + psychology, which eschews introspective data, is capable of being an + independent science, and of accounting for all that part of the behaviour + of other people which is commonly regarded as evidence that they think. It + must be admitted that this conclusion considerably weakens the reliance + which can be placed upon introspective data. They must be accepted simply + on account of the fact that we seem to perceive them, not on account of + their supposed necessity for explaining the data of external observation. + </p> + <p> + This, at any rate, is the conclusion to which we are forced, so long as, + with the behaviourists, we accept common-sense views of the physical + world. But if, as I have urged, the physical world itself, as known, is + infected through and through with subjectivity, if, as the theory of + relativity suggests, the physical universe contains the diversity of + points of view which we have been accustomed to regard as distinctively + psychological, then we are brought back by this different road to the + necessity for trusting observations which are in an important sense + private. And it is the privacy of introspective data which causes much of + the behaviourists' objection to them. + </p> + <p> + This is an example of the difficulty of constructing an adequate + philosophy of any one science without taking account of other sciences. + The behaviourist philosophy of psychology, though in many respects + admirable from the point of view of method, appears to me to fail in the + last analysis because it is based upon an inadequate philosophy of + physics. In spite, therefore, of the fact that the evidence for images, + whether generic or particular, is merely introspective, I cannot admit + that images should be rejected, or that we should minimize their function + in our knowledge of what is remote in time or space. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0015" id="link2H_4_0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LECTURE XII. BELIEF + </h2> + <p> + Belief, which is our subject to-day, is the central problem in the + analysis of mind. Believing seems the most "mental" thing we do, the thing + most remote from what is done by mere matter. The whole intellectual life + consists of beliefs, and of the passage from one belief to another by what + is called "reasoning." Beliefs give knowledge and error; they are the + vehicles of truth and falsehood. Psychology, theory of knowledge and + metaphysics revolve about belief, and on the view we take of belief our + philosophical outlook largely depends. + </p> + <p> + Before embarking upon the detailed analysis of belief, we shall do well to + note certain requisites which any theory must fulfil. + </p> + <p> + (1) Just as words are characterized by meaning, so beliefs are + characterized by truth or falsehood. And just as meaning consists in + relation to the object meant, so truth and falsehood consist in relation + to something that lies outside the belief. You may believe that + such-and-such a horse will win the Derby. The time comes, and your horse + wins or does not win; according to the outcome, your belief was true or + false. You may believe that six times nine is fifty-six; in this case also + there is a fact which makes your belief false. You may believe that + America was discovered in 1492, or that it was discovered in 1066. In the + one case your belief is true, in the other false; in either case its truth + or falsehood depends upon the actions of Columbus, not upon anything + present or under your control. What makes a belief true or false I call a + "fact." The particular fact that makes a given belief true or false I call + its "objective,"* and the relation of the belief to its objective I call + the "reference" or the "objective reference" of the belief. Thus, if I + believe that Columbus crossed the Atlantic in 1492, the "objective" of my + belief is Columbus's actual voyage, and the "reference" of my belief is + the relation between my belief and the voyage—that relation, namely, + in virtue of which the voyage makes my belief true (or, in another case, + false). "Reference" of beliefs differs from "meaning" of words in various + ways, but especially in the fact that it is of two kinds, "true" reference + and "false" reference. The truth or falsehood of a belief does not depend + upon anything intrinsic to the belief, but upon the nature of its relation + to its objective. The intrinsic nature of belief can be treated without + reference to what makes it true or false. In the remainder of the present + lecture I shall ignore truth and falsehood, which will be the subject of + Lecture XIII. It is the intrinsic nature of belief that will concern us + to-day. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * This terminology is suggested by Meinong, but is not + exactly the same as his. +</pre> + <p> + (2) We must distinguish between believing and what is believed. I may + believe that Columbus crossed the Atlantic, that all Cretans are liars, + that two and two are four, or that nine times six is fifty-six; in all + these cases the believing is just the same, and only the contents believed + are different. I may remember my breakfast this morning, my lecture last + week, or my first sight of New York. In all these cases the feeling of + memory-belief is just the same, and only what is remembered differs. + Exactly similar remarks apply to expectations. Bare assent, memory and + expectation are forms of belief; all three are different from what is + believed, and each has a constant character which is independent of what + is believed. + </p> + <p> + In Lecture I we criticized the analysis of a presentation into act, + content and object. But our analysis of belief contains three very similar + elements, namely the believing, what is believed and the objective. The + objections to the act (in the case of presentations) are not valid against + the believing in the case of beliefs, because the believing is an actual + experienced feeling, not something postulated, like the act. But it is + necessary first to complete our preliminary requisites, and then to + examine the content of a belief. After that, we shall be in a position to + return to the question as to what constitutes believing. + </p> + <p> + (3) What is believed, and the believing, must both consist of present + occurrences in the believer, no matter what may be the objective of the + belief. Suppose I believe, for example, "that Caesar crossed the Rubicon." + The objective of my belief is an event which happened long ago, which I + never saw and do not remember. This event itself is not in my mind when I + believe that it happened. It is not correct to say that I am believing the + actual event; what I am believing is something now in my mind, something + related to the event (in a way which we shall investigate in Lecture + XIII), but obviously not to be confounded with the event, since the event + is not occurring now but the believing is. What a man is believing at a + given moment is wholly determinate if we know the contents of his mind at + that moment; but Caesar's crossing of the Rubicon was an historical + physical event, which is distinct from the present contents of every + present mind. What is believed, however true it may be, is not the actual + fact that makes the belief true, but a present event related to the fact. + This present event, which is what is believed, I shall call the "content" + of the belief. We have already had occasion to notice the distinction + between content and objective in the case of memory-beliefs, where the + content is "this occurred" and the objective is the past event. + </p> + <p> + (4) Between content and objective there is sometimes a very wide gulf, for + example in the case of "Caesar crossed the Rubicon." This gulf may, when + it is first perceived, give us a feeling that we cannot really "know" + anything about the outer world. All we can "know," it may be said, is what + is now in our thoughts. If Caesar and the Rubicon cannot be bodily in our + thoughts, it might seem as though we must remain cut off from knowledge of + them. I shall not now deal at length with this feeling, since it is + necessary first to define "knowing," which cannot be done yet. But I will + say, as a preliminary answer, that the feeling assumes an ideal of knowing + which I believe to be quite mistaken. It assumes, if it is thought out, + something like the mystic unity of knower and known. These two are often + said to be combined into a unity by the fact of cognition; hence when this + unity is plainly absent, it may seem as if there were no genuine + cognition. For my part, I think such theories and feelings wholly + mistaken: I believe knowing to be a very external and complicated + relation, incapable of exact definition, dependent upon causal laws, and + involving no more unity than there is between a signpost and the town to + which it points. I shall return to this question on a later occasion; for + the moment these provisional remarks must suffice. + </p> + <p> + (5) The objective reference of a belief is connected with the fact that + all or some of the constituents of its content have meaning. If I say + "Caesar conquered Gaul," a person who knows the meaning of the three words + composing my statement knows as much as can be known about the nature of + the objective which would make my statement true. It is clear that the + objective reference of a belief is, in general, in some way derivative + from the meanings of the words or images that occur in its content. There + are, however, certain complications which must be borne in mind. In the + first place, it might be contended that a memory-image acquires meaning + only through the memory-belief, which would seem, at least in the case of + memory, to make belief more primitive than the meaning of images. In the + second place, it is a very singular thing that meaning, which is single, + should generate objective reference, which is dual, namely true and false. + This is one of the facts which any theory of belief must explain if it is + to be satisfactory. + </p> + <p> + It is now time to leave these preliminary requisites, and attempt the + analysis of the contents of beliefs. + </p> + <p> + The first thing to notice about what is believed, i.e. about the content + of a belief, is that it is always complex: We believe that a certain thing + has a certain property, or a certain relation to something else, or that + it occurred or will occur (in the sense discussed at the end of Lecture + IX); or we may believe that all the members of a certain class have a + certain property, or that a certain property sometimes occurs among the + members of a class; or we may believe that if one thing happens, another + will happen (for example, "if it rains I shall bring my umbrella"), or we + may believe that something does not happen, or did not or will not happen + (for example, "it won't rain"); or that one of two things must happen (for + example, "either you withdraw your accusation, or I shall bring a libel + action"). The catalogue of the sorts of things we may believe is infinite, + but all of them are complex. + </p> + <p> + Language sometimes conceals the complexity of a belief. We say that a + person believes in God, and it might seem as if God formed the whole + content of the belief. But what is really believed is that God exists, + which is very far from being simple. Similarly, when a person has a + memory-image with a memory-belief, the belief is "this occurred," in the + sense explained in Lecture IX; and "this occurred" is not simple. In like + manner all cases where the content of a belief seems simple at first sight + will be found, on examination, to confirm the view that the content is + always complex. + </p> + <p> + The content of a belief involves not merely a plurality of constituents, + but definite relations between them; it is not determinate when its + constituents alone are given. For example, "Plato preceded Aristotle" and + "Aristotle preceded Plato" are both contents which may be believed, but, + although they consist of exactly the same constituents, they are + different, and even incompatible. + </p> + <p> + The content of a belief may consist of words only, or of images only, or + of a mixture of the two, or of either or both together with one or more + sensations. It must contain at least one constituent which is a word or an + image, and it may or may not contain one or more sensations as + constituents. Some examples will make these various possibilities clear. + </p> + <p> + We may take first recognition, in either of the forms "this is of + such-and-such a kind" or "this has occurred before." In either case, + present sensation is a constituent. For example, you hear a noise, and you + say to yourself "tram." Here the noise and the word "tram" are both + constituents of your belief; there is also a relation between them, + expressed by "is" in the proposition "that is a tram." As soon as your act + of recognition is completed by the occurrence of the word "tram," your + actions are affected: you hurry if you want the tram, or cease to hurry if + you want a bus. In this case the content of your belief is a sensation + (the noise) and a word ("tram") related in a way which may be called + predication. + </p> + <p> + The same noise may bring into your mind the visual image of a tram, + instead of the word "tram." In this case your belief consists of a + sensation and an image suitable related. Beliefs of this class are what + are called "judgments of perception." As we saw in Lecture VIII, the + images associated with a sensation often come with such spontaneity and + force that the unsophisticated do not distinguish them from the sensation; + it is only the psychologist or the skilled observer who is aware of the + large mnemic element that is added to sensation to make perception. It may + be objected that what is added consists merely of images without belief. + This is no doubt sometimes the case, but is certainly sometimes not the + case. That belief always occurs in perception as opposed to sensation it + is not necessary for us to maintain; it is enough for our purposes to note + that it sometimes occurs, and that when it does, the content of our belief + consists of a sensation and an image suitably related. + </p> + <p> + In a PURE memory-belief only images occur. But a mixture of words and + images is very common in memory. You have an image of the past occurrence, + and you say to yourself: "Yes, that's how it was." Here the image and the + words together make up the content of the belief. And when the remembering + of an incident has become a habit, it may be purely verbal, and the + memory-belief may consist of words alone. + </p> + <p> + The more complicated forms of belief tend to consist only of words. Often + images of various kinds accompany them, but they are apt to be irrelevant, + and to form no part of what is actually believed. For example, in thinking + of the Solar System, you are likely to have vague images of pictures you + have seen of the earth surrounded by clouds, Saturn and his rings, the sun + during an eclipse, and so on; but none of these form part of your belief + that the planets revolve round the sun in elliptical orbits. The only + images that form an actual part of such beliefs are, as a rule, images of + words. And images of words, for the reasons considered in Lecture VIII, + cannot be distinguished with any certainty from sensations, when, as is + often, if not usually, the case, they are kinaesthetic images of + pronouncing the words. + </p> + <p> + It is impossible for a belief to consist of sensations alone, except when, + as in the case of words, the sensations have associations which make them + signs possessed of meaning. The reason is that objective reference is of + the essence of belief, and objective reference is derived from meaning. + When I speak of a belief consisting partly of sensations and partly of + words, I do not mean to deny that the words, when they are not mere + images, are sensational, but that they occur as signs, not (so to speak) + in their own right. To revert to the noise of the tram, when you hear it + and say "tram," the noise and the word are both sensations (if you + actually pronounce the word), but the noise is part of the fact which + makes your belief true, whereas the word is not part of this fact. It is + the MEANING of the word "tram," not the actual word, that forms part of + the fact which is the objective of your belief. Thus the word occurs in + the belief as a symbol, in virtue of its meaning, whereas the noise enters + into both the belief and its objective. It is this that distinguishes the + occurrence of words as symbols from the occurrence of sensations in their + own right: the objective contains the sensations that occur in their own + right, but contains only the meanings of the words that occur as symbols. + </p> + <p> + For the sake of simplicity, we may ignore the cases in which sensations in + their own right form part of the content of a belief, and confine + ourselves to images and words. We may also omit the cases in which both + images and words occur in the content of a belief. Thus we become confined + to two cases: (a) when the content consists wholly of images, (b) when it + consists wholly of words. The case of mixed images and words has no + special importance, and its omission will do no harm. + </p> + <p> + Let us take in illustration a case of memory. Suppose you are thinking of + some familiar room. You may call up an image of it, and in your image the + window may be to the left of the door. Without any intrusion of words, you + may believe in the correctness of your image. You then have a belief, + consisting wholly of images, which becomes, when put into words, "the + window is to the left of the door." You may yourself use these words and + proceed to believe them. You thus pass from an image-content to the + corresponding word-content. The content is different in the two cases, but + its objective reference is the same. This shows the relation of + image-beliefs to word-beliefs in a very simple case. In more elaborate + cases the relation becomes much less simple. + </p> + <p> + It may be said that even in this very simple case the objective reference + of the word-content is not quite the same as that of the image-content, + that images have a wealth of concrete features which are lost when words + are substituted, that the window in the image is not a mere window in the + abstract, but a window of a certain shape and size, not merely to the left + of the door, but a certain distance to the left, and so on. In reply, it + may be admitted at once that there is, as a rule, a certain amount of + truth in the objection. But two points may be urged to minimize its force. + First, images do not, as a rule, have that wealth of concrete detail that + would make it IMPOSSIBLE to express them fully in words. They are vague + and fragmentary: a finite number of words, though perhaps a large number, + would exhaust at least their SIGNIFICANT features. For—and this is + our second point—images enter into the content of a belief through + the fact that they are capable of meaning, and their meaning does not, as + a rule, have as much complexity as they have: some of their + characteristics are usually devoid of meaning. Thus it may well be + possible to extract in words all that has meaning in an image-content; in + that case the word-content and the image-content will have exactly the + same objective reference. + </p> + <p> + The content of a belief, when expressed in words, is the same thing (or + very nearly the same thing) as what in logic is called a "proposition." A + proposition is a series of words (or sometimes a single word) expressing + the kind of thing that can be asserted or denied. "That all men are + mortal," "that Columbus discovered America," "that Charles I died in his + bed," "that all philosophers are wise," are propositions. Not any series + of words is a proposition, but only such series of words as have + "meaning," or, in our phraseology, "objective reference." Given the + meanings of separate words, and the rules of syntax, the meaning of a + proposition is determinate. This is the reason why we can understand a + sentence we never heard before. You probably never heard before the + proposition "that the inhabitants of the Andaman Islands habitually eat + stewed hippopotamus for dinner," but there is no difficulty in + understanding the proposition. The question of the relation between the + meaning of a sentence and the meanings of the separate words is difficult, + and I shall not pursue it now; I brought it up solely as being + illustrative of the nature of propositions. + </p> + <p> + We may extend the term "proposition" so as to cover the image-contents of + beliefs consisting of images. Thus, in the case of remembering a room in + which the window is to the left of the door, when we believe the + image-content the proposition will consist of the image of the window on + the left together with the image of the door on the right. We will + distinguish propositions of this kind as "image-propositions" and + propositions in words as "word-propositions." We may identify propositions + in general with the contents of actual and possible beliefs, and we may + say that it is propositions that are true or false. In logic we are + concerned with propositions rather than beliefs, since logic is not + interested in what people do in fact believe, but only in the conditions + which determine the truth or falsehood of possible beliefs. Whenever + possible, except when actual beliefs are in question, it is generally a + simplification to deal with propositions. + </p> + <p> + It would seem that image-propositions are more primitive than + word-propositions, and may well ante-date language. There is no reason why + memory-images, accompanied by that very simple belief-feeling which we + decided to be the essence of memory, should not have occurred before + language arose; indeed, it would be rash to assert positively that memory + of this sort does not occur among the higher animals. Our more elementary + beliefs, notably those that are added to sensation to make perception, + often remain at the level of images. For example, most of the visual + objects in our neighbourhood rouse tactile images: we have a different + feeling in looking at a sofa from what we have in looking at a block of + marble, and the difference consists chiefly in different stimulation of + our tactile imagination. It may be said that the tactile images are merely + present, without any accompanying belief; but I think this view, though + sometimes correct, derives its plausibility as a general proposition from + our thinking of explicit conscious belief only. Most of our beliefs, like + most of our wishes, are "unconscious," in the sense that we have never + told ourselves that we have them. Such beliefs display themselves when the + expectations that they arouse fail in any way. For example, if someone + puts tea (without milk) into a glass, and you drink it under the + impression that it is going to be beer; or if you walk on what appears to + be a tiled floor, and it turns out to be a soft carpet made to look like + tiles. The shock of surprise on an occasion of this kind makes us aware of + the expectations that habitually enter into our perceptions; and such + expectations must be classed as beliefs, in spite of the fact that we do + not normally take note of them or put them into words. I remember once + watching a cock pigeon running over and over again to the edge of a + looking-glass to try to wreak vengeance on the particularly obnoxious bird + whom he expected to find there, judging by what he saw in the glass. He + must have experienced each time the sort of surprise on finding nothing, + which is calculated to lead in time to the adoption of Berkeley's theory + that objects of sense are only in the mind. His expectation, though not + expressed in words, deserved, I think, to be called a belief. + </p> + <p> + I come now to the question what constitutes believing, as opposed to the + content believed. + </p> + <p> + To begin with, there are various different attitudes that may be taken + towards the same content. Let us suppose, for the sake of argument, that + you have a visual image of your breakfast-table. You may expect it while + you are dressing in the morning; remember it as you go to your work; feel + doubt as to its correctness when questioned as to your powers of + visualizing; merely entertain the image, without connecting it with + anything external, when you are going to sleep; desire it if you are + hungry, or feel aversion for it if you are ill. Suppose, for the sake of + definiteness, that the content is "an egg for breakfast." Then you have + the following attitudes "I expect there will be an egg for breakfast"; "I + remember there was an egg for breakfast"; "Was there an egg for + breakfast?" "An egg for breakfast: well, what of it?" "I hope there will + be an egg for breakfast"; "I am afraid there will be an egg for breakfast + and it is sure to be bad." I do not suggest that this is a list of all + possible attitudes on the subject; I say only that they are different + attitudes, all concerned with the one content "an egg for breakfast." + </p> + <p> + These attitudes are not all equally ultimate. Those that involve desire + and aversion have occupied us in Lecture III. For the present, we are only + concerned with such as are cognitive. In speaking of memory, we + distinguished three kinds of belief directed towards the same content, + namely memory, expectation and bare assent without any time-determination + in the belief-feeling. But before developing this view, we must examine + two other theories which might be held concerning belief, and which, in + some ways, would be more in harmony with a behaviourist outlook than the + theory I wish to advocate. + </p> + <p> + (1) The first theory to be examined is the view that the differentia of + belief consists in its causal efficacy I do not wish to make any author + responsible for this theory: I wish merely to develop it hypothetically so + that we may judge of its tenability. + </p> + <p> + We defined the meaning of an image or word by causal efficacy, namely by + associations: an image or word acquires meaning, we said, through having + the same associations as what it means. + </p> + <p> + We propose hypothetically to define "belief" by a different kind of causal + efficacy, namely efficacy in causing voluntary movements. (Voluntary + movements are defined as those vital movements which are distinguished + from reflex movements as involving the higher nervous centres. I do not + like to distinguish them by means of such notions as "consciousness" or + "will," because I do not think these notions, in any definable sense, are + always applicable. Moreover, the purpose of the theory we are examining is + to be, as far as possible, physiological and behaviourist, and this + purpose is not achieved if we introduce such a conception as + "consciousness" or "will." Nevertheless, it is necessary for our purpose + to find some way of distinguishing between voluntary and reflex movements, + since the results would be too paradoxical, if we were to say that reflex + movements also involve beliefs.) According to this definition, a content + is said to be "believed" when it causes us to move. The images aroused are + the same if you say to me, "Suppose there were an escaped tiger coming + along the street," and if you say to me, "There is an escaped tiger coming + along the street." But my actions will be very different in the two cases: + in the first, I shall remain calm; in the second, it is possible that I + may not. It is suggested, by the theory we are considering, that this + difference of effects constitutes what is meant by saying that in the + second case I believe the proposition suggested, while in the first case I + do not. According to this view, images or words are "believed" when they + cause bodily movements. + </p> + <p> + I do not think this theory is adequate, but I think it is suggestive of + truth, and not so easily refutable as it might appear to be at first + sight. + </p> + <p> + It might be objected to the theory that many things which we certainly + believe do not call for any bodily movements. I believe that Great Britain + is an island, that whales are mammals, that Charles I was executed, and so + on; and at first sight it seems obvious that such beliefs, as a rule, do + not call for any action on my part. But when we investigate the matter + more closely, it becomes more doubtful. To begin with, we must distinguish + belief as a mere DISPOSITION from actual active belief. We speak as if we + always believed that Charles I was executed, but that only means that we + are always ready to believe it when the subject comes up. The phenomenon + we are concerned to analyse is the active belief, not the permanent + disposition. Now, what are the occasions when, we actively believe that + Charles I was executed? Primarily: examinations, when we perform the + bodily movement of writing it down; conversation, when we assert it to + display our historical erudition; and political discourses, when we are + engaged in showing what Soviet government leads to. In all these cases + bodily movements (writing or speaking) result from our belief. + </p> + <p> + But there remains the belief which merely occurs in "thinking." One may + set to work to recall some piece of history one has been reading, and what + one recalls is believed, although it probably does not cause any bodily + movement whatever. It is true that what we believe always MAY influence + action. Suppose I am invited to become King of Georgia: I find the + prospect attractive, and go to Cook's to buy a third-class ticket to my + new realm. At the last moment I remember Charles I and all the other + monarchs who have come to a bad end; I change my mind, and walk out + without completing the transaction. But such incidents are rare, and + cannot constitute the whole of my belief that Charles I was executed. The + conclusion seems to be that, although a belief always MAY influence action + if it becomes relevant to a practical issue, it often exists actively (not + as a mere disposition) without producing any voluntary movement whatever. + If this is true, we cannot define belief by the effect on voluntary + movements. + </p> + <p> + There is another, more theoretical, ground for rejecting the view we are + examining. It is clear that a proposition can be either believed or merely + considered, and that the content is the same in both cases. We can expect + an egg for breakfast, or merely entertain the supposition that there may + be an egg for breakfast. A moment ago I considered the possibility of + being invited to become King of Georgia, but I do not believe that this + will happen. Now, it seems clear that, since believing and considering + have different effects if one produces bodily movements while the other + does not, there must be some intrinsic difference between believing and + considering*; for if they were precisely similar, their effects also would + be precisely similar. We have seen that the difference between believing a + given proposition and merely considering it does not lie in the content; + therefore there must be, in one case or in both, something additional to + the content which distinguishes the occurrence of a belief from the + occurrence of a mere consideration of the same content. So far as the + theoretical argument goes, this additional element may exist only in + belief, or only in consideration, or there may be one sort of additional + element in the case of belief, and another in the case of consideration. + This brings us to the second view which we have to examine. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * Cf. Brentano, "Psychologie vom empirischen Standpunkte," + p. 268 (criticizing Bain, "The Emotions and the Will"). +</pre> + <p> + (1) The theory which we have now to consider regards belief as belonging + to every idea which is entertained, except in so far as some positive + counteracting force interferes. In this view belief is not a positive + phenomenon, though doubt and disbelief are so. What we call belief, + according to this hypothesis, involves only the appropriate content, which + will have the effects characteristic of belief unless something else + operating simultaneously inhibits them. James (Psychology, vol. ii, p. + 288) quotes with approval, though inaccurately, a passage from Spinoza + embodying this view: + </p> + <p> + "Let us conceive a boy imagining to himself a horse, and taking note of + nothing else. As this imagination involves the existence of the horse, AND + THE BOY HAS NO PERCEPTION WHICH ANNULS ITS EXISTENCE [James's italics], he + will necessarily contemplate the horse as present, nor will he be able to + doubt of its existence, however little certain of it he may be. I deny + that a man in so far as he imagines [percipit] affirms nothing. For what + is it to imagine a winged horse but to affirm that the horse [that horse, + namely] has wings? For if the mind had nothing before it but the winged + horse, it would contemplate the same as present, would have no cause to + doubt of its existence, nor any power of dissenting from its existence, + unless the imagination of the winged horse were joined to an idea which + contradicted [tollit] its existence" ("Ethics," vol. ii, p. 49, Scholium). + </p> + <p> + To this doctrine James entirely assents, adding in italics: + </p> + <p> + "ANY OBJECT WHICH REMAINS UNCONTRADICTED IS IPSO FACTO BELIEVED AND + POSITED AS ABSOLUTE REALITY." + </p> + <p> + If this view is correct, it follows (though James does not draw the + inference) that there is no need of any specific feeling called "belief," + and that the mere existence of images yields all that is required. The + state of mind in which we merely consider a proposition, without believing + or disbelieving it, will then appear as a sophisticated product, the + result of some rival force adding to the image-proposition a positive + feeling which may be called suspense or non-belief—a feeling which + may be compared to that of a man about to run a race waiting for the + signal. Such a man, though not moving, is in a very different condition + from that of a man quietly at rest And so the man who is considering a + proposition without believing it will be in a state of tension, + restraining the natural tendency to act upon the proposition which he + would display if nothing interfered. In this view belief primarily + consists merely in the existence of the appropriate images without any + counteracting forces. + </p> + <p> + There is a great deal to be said in favour of this view, and I have some + hesitation in regarding it as inadequate. It fits admirably with the + phenomena of dreams and hallucinatory images, and it is recommended by the + way in which it accords with mental development. Doubt, suspense of + judgment and disbelief all seem later and more complex than a wholly + unreflecting assent. Belief as a positive phenomenon, if it exists, may be + regarded, in this view, as a product of doubt, a decision after debate, an + acceptance, not merely of THIS, but of THIS-RATHER-THAN-THAT. It is not + difficult to suppose that a dog has images (possible olfactory) of his + absent master, or of the rabbit that he dreams of hunting. But it is very + difficult to suppose that he can entertain mere imagination-images to + which no assent is given. + </p> + <p> + I think it must be conceded that a mere image, without the addition of any + positive feeling that could be called "belief," is apt to have a certain + dynamic power, and in this sense an uncombated image has the force of a + belief. But although this may be true, it accounts only for some of the + simplest phenomena in the region of belief. It will not, for example, + explain memory. Nor can it explain beliefs which do not issue in any + proximate action, such as those of mathematics. I conclude, therefore, + that there must be belief-feelings of the same order as those of doubt or + disbelief, although phenomena closely analogous to those of belief can be + produced by mere uncontradicted images. + </p> + <p> + (3) I come now to the view of belief which I wish to advocate. It seems to + me that there are at least three kinds of belief, namely memory, + expectation and bare assent. Each of these I regard as constituted by a + certain feeling or complex of sensations, attached to the content + believed. We may illustrate by an example. Suppose I am believing, by + means of images, not words, that it will rain. We have here two + interrelated elements, namely the content and the expectation. The content + consists of images of (say) the visual appearance of rain, the feeling of + wetness, the patter of drops, interrelated, roughly, as the sensations + would be if it were raining. Thus the content is a complex fact composed + of images. Exactly the same content may enter into the memory "it was + raining" or the assent "rain occurs." The difference of these cases from + each other and from expectation does not lie in the content. The + difference lies in the nature of the belief-feeling. I, personally, do not + profess to be able to analyse the sensations constituting respectively + memory, expectation and assent; but I am not prepared to say that they + cannot be analysed. There may be other belief-feelings, for example in + disjunction and implication; also a disbelief-feeling. + </p> + <p> + It is not enough that the content and the belief-feeling should coexist: + it is necessary that there should be a specific relation between them, of + the sort expressed by saying that the content is what is believed. If this + were not obvious, it could be made plain by an argument. If the mere + co-existence of the content and the belief-feeling sufficed, whenever we + were having (say) a memory-feeling we should be remembering any + proposition which came into our minds at the same time. But this is not + the case, since we may simultaneously remember one proposition and merely + consider another. + </p> + <p> + We may sum up our analysis, in the case of bare assent to a proposition + not expressed in words, as follows: (a) We have a proposition, consisting + of interrelated images, and possibly partly of sensations; (b) we have the + feeling of assent, which is presumably a complex sensation demanding + analysis; (c) we have a relation, actually subsisting, between the assent + and the proposition, such as is expressed by saying that the proposition + in question is what is assented to. For other forms of belief-feeling or + of content, we have only to make the necessary substitutions in this + analysis. + </p> + <p> + If we are right in our analysis of belief, the use of words in expressing + beliefs is apt to be misleading. There is no way of distinguishing, in + words, between a memory and an assent to a proposition about the past: "I + ate my breakfast" and "Caesar conquered Gaul" have the same verbal form, + though (assuming that I remember my breakfast) they express occurrences + which are psychologically very different. In the one case, what happens is + that I remember the content "eating my breakfast"; in the other case, I + assent to the content "Caesar's conquest of Gaul occurred." In the latter + case, but not in the former, the pastness is part of the content believed. + Exactly similar remarks apply to the difference between expectation, such + as we have when waiting for the thunder after a flash of lightning, and + assent to a proposition about the future, such as we have in all the usual + cases of inferential knowledge as to what will occur. I think this + difficulty in the verbal expression of the temporal aspects of beliefs is + one among the causes which have hampered philosophy in the consideration + of time. + </p> + <p> + The view of belief which I have been advocating contains little that is + novel except the distinction of kinds of belief-feeling—such as + memory and expectation. Thus James says: "Everyone knows the difference + between imagining a thing and believing in its existence, between + supposing a proposition and acquiescing in its truth...IN ITS INNER + NATURE, BELIEF, OR THE SENSE OF REALITY, IS A SORT OF FEELING MORE ALLIED + TO THE EMOTIONS THAN TO ANYTHING ELSE" ("Psychology," vol. ii, p. 283. + James's italics). He proceeds to point out that drunkenness, and, still + more, nitrous-oxide intoxication, will heighten the sense of belief: in + the latter case, he says, a man's very soul may sweat with conviction, and + he be all the time utterly unable to say what he is convinced of. It would + seem that, in such cases, the feeling of belief exists unattached, without + its usual relation to a content believed, just as the feeling of + familiarity may sometimes occur without being related to any definite + familiar object. The feeling of belief, when it occurs in this separated + heightened form, generally leads us to look for a content to which to + attach it. Much of what passes for revelation or mystic insight probably + comes in this way: the belief-feeling, in abnormal strength, attaches + itself, more or less accidentally, to some content which we happen to + think of at the appropriate moment. But this is only a speculation, upon + which I do not wish to lay too much stress. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0016" id="link2H_4_0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LECTURE XIII. TRUTH AND FALSEHOOD + </h2> + <p> + The definition of truth and falsehood, which is our topic to-day, lies + strictly outside our general subject, namely the analysis of mind. From + the psychological standpoint, there may be different kinds of belief, and + different degrees of certainty, but there cannot be any purely + psychological means of distinguishing between true and false beliefs. A + belief is rendered true or false by relation to a fact, which may lie + outside the experience of the person entertaining the belief. Truth and + falsehood, except in the case of beliefs about our own minds, depend upon + the relations of mental occurrences to outside things, and thus take us + beyond the analysis of mental occurrences as they are in themselves. + Nevertheless, we can hardly avoid the consideration of truth and + falsehood. We wish to believe that our beliefs, sometimes at least, yield + KNOWLEDGE, and a belief does not yield knowledge unless it is true. The + question whether our minds are instruments of knowledge, and, if so, in + what sense, is so vital that any suggested analysis of mind must be + examined in relation to this question. To ignore this question would be + like describing a chronometer without regard to its accuracy as a + time-keeper, or a thermometer without mentioning the fact that it measures + temperature. + </p> + <p> + Many difficult questions arise in connection with knowledge. It is + difficult to define knowledge, difficult to decide whether we have any + knowledge, and difficult, even if it is conceded that we sometimes have + knowledge to discover whether we can ever know that we have knowledge in + this or that particular case. I shall divide the discussion into four + parts: + </p> + <p> + I. We may regard knowledge, from a behaviourist standpoint, as exhibited + in a certain kind of response to the environment. This response must have + some characteristics which it shares with those of scientific instruments, + but must also have others that are peculiar to knowledge. We shall find + that this point of view is important, but not exhaustive of the nature of + knowledge. + </p> + <p> + II. We may hold that the beliefs that constitute knowledge are + distinguished from such as are erroneous or uncertain by properties which + are intrinsic either to single beliefs or to systems of beliefs, being in + either case discoverable without reference to outside fact. Views of this + kind have been widely held among philosophers, but we shall find no reason + to accept them. + </p> + <p> + III. We believe that some beliefs are true, and some false. This raises + the problem of VERIFIABILITY: are there any circumstances which can + justifiably give us an unusual degree of certainty that such and such a + belief is true? It is obvious that there are circumstances which in fact + cause a certainty of this sort, and we wish to learn what we can from + examining these circumstances. + </p> + <p> + IV. Finally, there is the formal problem of defining truth and falsehood, + and deriving the objective reference of a proposition from the meanings of + its component words. + </p> + <p> + We will consider these four problems in succession. + </p> + <p> + I. We may regard a human being as an instrument, which makes various + responses to various stimuli. If we observe these responses from outside, + we shall regard them as showing knowledge when they display two + characteristics, ACCURACY and APPROPRIATENESS. These two are quite + distinct, and even sometimes incompatible. If I am being pursued by a + tiger, accuracy is furthered by turning round to look at him, but + appropriateness by running away without making any search for further + knowledge of the beast. I shall return to the question of appropriateness + later; for the present it is accuracy that I wish to consider. + </p> + <p> + When we are viewing a man from the outside, it is not his beliefs, but his + bodily movements, that we can observe. His knowledge must be inferred from + his bodily movements, and especially from what he says and writes. For the + present we may ignore beliefs, and regard a man's knowledge as actually + consisting in what he says and does. That is to say, we will construct, as + far as possible, a purely behaviouristic account of truth and falsehood. + </p> + <p> + If you ask a boy "What is twice two?" and the boy says "four," you take + that as prima facie evidence that the boy knows what twice two is. But if + you go on to ask what is twice three, twice four, twice five, and so on, + and the boy always answers "four," you come to the conclusion that he + knows nothing about it. Exactly similar remarks apply to scientific + instruments. I know a certain weather-cock which has the pessimistic habit + of always pointing to the north-east. If you were to see it first on a + cold March day, you would think it an excellent weather-cock; but with the + first warm day of spring your confidence would be shaken. The boy and the + weather-cock have the same defect: they do not vary their response when + the stimulus is varied. A good instrument, or a person with much + knowledge, will give different responses to stimuli which differ in + relevant ways. This is the first point in defining accuracy of response. + </p> + <p> + We will now assume another boy, who also, when you first question him, + asserts that twice two is four. But with this boy, instead of asking him + different questions, you make a practice of asking him the same question + every day at breakfast. You find that he says five, or six, or seven, or + any other number at random, and you conclude that he also does not know + what twice two is, though by good luck he answered right the first time. + This boy is like a weather-cock which, instead of being stuck fast, is + always going round and round, changing without any change of wind. This + boy and weather-cock have the opposite defect to that of the previous + pair: they give different responses to stimuli which do not differ in any + relevant way. + </p> + <p> + In connection with vagueness in memory, we already had occasion to + consider the definition of accuracy. Omitting some of the niceties of our + previous discussion, we may say that an instrument is ACCURATE when it + avoids the defects of the two boys and weather-cocks, that is to say, when— + </p> + <p> + (a) It gives different responses to stimuli which differ in relevant ways; + </p> + <p> + (b) It gives the same response to stimuli which do not differ in relevant + ways. + </p> + <p> + What are relevant ways depends upon the nature and purpose of the + instrument. In the case of a weather-cock, the direction of the wind is + relevant, but not its strength; in the case of the boy, the meaning of the + words of your question is relevant, but not the loudness of your voice, or + whether you are his father or his schoolmaster If, however, you were a boy + of his own age, that would be relevant, and the appropriate response would + be different. + </p> + <p> + It is clear that knowledge is displayed by accuracy of response to certain + kinds of stimuli, e.g. examinations. Can we say, conversely, that it + consists wholly of such accuracy of response? I do not think we can; but + we can go a certain distance in this direction. For this purpose we must + define more carefully the kind of accuracy and the kind of response that + may be expected where there is knowledge. + </p> + <p> + From our present point of view, it is difficult to exclude perception from + knowledge; at any rate, knowledge is displayed by actions based upon + perception. A bird flying among trees avoids bumping into their branches; + its avoidance is a response to visual sensations. This response has the + characteristic of accuracy, in the main, and leads us to say that the bird + "knows," by sight, what objects are in its neighbourhood. For a + behaviourist, this must certainly count as knowledge, however it may be + viewed by analytic psychology. In this case, what is known, roughly, is + the stimulus; but in more advanced knowledge the stimulus and what is + known become different. For example, you look in your calendar and find + that Easter will be early next year. Here the stimulus is the calendar, + whereas the response concerns the future. Even this can be paralleled + among instruments: the behaviour of the barometer has a present stimulus + but foretells the future, so that the barometer might be said, in a sense, + to know the future. However that may be, the point I am emphasizing as + regards knowledge is that what is known may be quite different from the + stimulus, and no part of the cause of the knowledge-response. It is only + in sense-knowledge that the stimulus and what is known are, with + qualifications, identifiable. In knowledge of the future, it is obvious + that they are totally distinct, since otherwise the response would precede + the stimulus. In abstract knowledge also they are distinct, since abstract + facts have no date. In knowledge of the past there are complications, + which we must briefly examine. + </p> + <p> + Every form of memory will be, from our present point of view, in one sense + a delayed response. But this phrase does not quite clearly express what is + meant. If you light a fuse and connect it with a heap of dynamite, the + explosion of the dynamite may be spoken of, in a sense, as a delayed + response to your lighting of the fuse. But that only means that it is a + somewhat late portion of a continuous process of which the earlier parts + have less emotional interest. This is not the case with habit. A display + of habit has two sorts of causes: (a) the past occurrences which generated + the habit, (b) the present occurrence which brings it into play. When you + drop a weight on your toe, and say what you do say, the habit has been + caused by imitation of your undesirable associates, whereas it is brought + into play by the dropping of the weight. The great bulk of our knowledge + is a habit in this sense: whenever I am asked when I was born, I reply + correctly by mere habit. It would hardly be correct to say that getting + born was the stimulus, and that my reply is a delayed response But in + cases of memory this way of speaking would have an element of truth. In an + habitual memory, the event remembered was clearly an essential part of the + stimulus to the formation of the habit. The present stimulus which brings + the habit into play produces a different response from that which it would + produce if the habit did not exist. Therefore the habit enters into the + causation of the response, and so do, at one remove, the causes of the + habit. It follows that an event remembered is an essential part of the + causes of our remembering. + </p> + <p> + In spite, however, of the fact that what is known is SOMETIMES an + indispensable part of the cause of the knowledge, this circumstance is, I + think, irrelevant to the general question with which we are concerned, + namely What sort of response to what sort of stimulus can be regarded as + displaying knowledge? There is one characteristic which the response must + have, namely, it must consist of voluntary movements. The need of this + characteristic is connected with the characteristic of APPROPRIATENESS, + which I do not wish to consider as yet. For the present I wish only to + obtain a clearer idea of the sort of ACCURACY that a knowledge-response + must have. It is clear from many instances that accuracy, in other cases, + may be purely mechanical. The most complete form of accuracy consists in + giving correct answers to questions, an achievement in which calculating + machines far surpass human beings. In asking a question of a calculating + machine, you must use its language: you must not address it in English, + any more than you would address an Englishman in Chinese. But if you + address it in the language it understands, it will tell you what is 34521 + times 19987, without a moment's hesitation or a hint of inaccuracy. We do + not say the machine KNOWS the answer, because it has no purpose of its own + in giving the answer: it does not wish to impress you with its cleverness, + or feel proud of being such a good machine. But as far as mere accuracy + goes, the machine leaves nothing to be desired. + </p> + <p> + Accuracy of response is a perfectly clear notion in the case of answers to + questions, but in other cases it is much more obscure. We may say + generally that an object whether animate or inanimate, is "sensitive" to a + certain feature of the environment if it behaves differently according to + the presence or absence of that feature. Thus iron is sensitive to + anything magnetic. But sensitiveness does not constitute knowledge, and + knowledge of a fact which is not sensible is not sensitiveness to that + fact, as we have seen in distinguishing the fact known from the stimulus. + As soon as we pass beyond the simple case of question and answer, the + definition of knowledge by means of behaviour demands the consideration of + purpose. A carrier pigeon flies home, and so we say it "knows" the way. + But if it merely flew to some place at random, we should not say that it + "knew" the way to that place, any more than a stone rolling down hill + knows the way to the valley. + </p> + <p> + On the features which distinguish knowledge from accuracy of response in + general, not much can be said from a behaviourist point of view without + referring to purpose. But the necessity of SOMETHING besides accuracy of + response may be brought out by the following consideration: Suppose two + persons, of whom one believed whatever the other disbelieved, and + disbelieved whatever the other believed. So far as accuracy and + sensitiveness of response alone are concerned, there would be nothing to + choose between these two persons. A thermometer which went down for warm + weather and up for cold might be just as accurate as the usual kind; and a + person who always believes falsely is just as sensitive an instrument as a + person who always believes truly. The observable and practical difference + between them would be that the one who always believed falsely would + quickly come to a bad end. This illustrates once more that accuracy of + response to stimulus does not alone show knowledge, but must be reinforced + by appropriateness, i.e. suitability for realizing one's purpose. This + applies even in the apparently simple case of answering questions: if the + purpose of the answers is to deceive, their falsehood, not their truth, + will be evidence of knowledge. The proportion of the combination of + appropriateness with accuracy in the definition of knowledge is difficult; + it seems that both enter in, but that appropriateness is only required as + regards the general type of response, not as regards each individual + instance. + </p> + <p> + II. I have so far assumed as unquestionable the view that the truth or + falsehood of a belief consists in a relation to a certain fact, namely the + objective of the belief. This view has, however, been often questioned. + Philosophers have sought some intrinsic criterion by which true and false + beliefs could be distinguished.* I am afraid their chief reason for this + search has been the wish to feel more certainty than seems otherwise + possible as to what is true and what is false. If we could discover the + truth of a belief by examining its intrinsic characteristics, or those of + some collection of beliefs of which it forms part, the pursuit of truth, + it is thought, would be a less arduous business than it otherwise appears + to be. But the attempts which have been made in this direction are not + encouraging. I will take two criteria which have been suggested, namely, + (1) self-evidence, (2) mutual coherence. If we can show that these are + inadequate, we may feel fairly certain that no intrinsic criterion + hitherto suggested will suffice to distinguish true from false beliefs. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * The view that such a criterion exists is generally held by + those whose views are in any degree derived from Hegel. It + may be illustrated by the following passage from Lossky, + "The Intuitive Basis of Knowledge" (Macmillan, 1919), p. + 268: "Strictly speaking, a false judgment is not a judgment + at all. The predicate does not follow from the subject S + alone, but from the subject plus a certain addition C, WHICH + IN NO SENSE BELONGS TO THE CONTENT OF THE JUDGMENT. What + takes place may be a process of association of ideas, of + imagining, or the like, but is not a process of judging. An + experienced psychologist will be able by careful observation + to detect that in this process there is wanting just the + specific element of the objective dependence of the + predicate upon the subject which is characteristic of a + judgment. It must be admitted, however, that an exceptional + power of observation is needed in order to distinguish, by + means of introspection, mere combination of ideas from + judgments." +</pre> + <p> + (1) Self-evidence.—Some of our beliefs seem to be peculiarly + indubitable. One might instance the belief that two and two are four, that + two things cannot be in the same place at the same time, nor one thing in + two places, or that a particular buttercup that we are seeing is yellow. + The suggestion we are to examine is that such: beliefs have some + recognizable quality which secures their truth, and the truth of whatever + is deduced from them according to self-evident principles of inference. + This theory is set forth, for example, by Meinong in his book, "Ueber die + Erfahrungsgrundlagen unseres Wissens." + </p> + <p> + If this theory is to be logically tenable, self-evidence must not consist + merely in the fact that we believe a proposition. We believe that our + beliefs are sometimes erroneous, and we wish to be able to select a + certain class of beliefs which are never erroneous. If we are to do this, + it must be by some mark which belongs only to certain beliefs, not to all; + and among those to which it belongs there must be none that are mutually + inconsistent. If, for example, two propositions p and q were self-evident, + and it were also self-evident that p and q could not both be true, that + would condemn self-evidence as a guarantee of truth. Again, self-evidence + must not be the same thing as the absence of doubt or the presence of + complete certainty. If we are completely certain of a proposition, we do + not seek a ground to support our belief. If self-evidence is alleged as a + ground of belief, that implies that doubt has crept in, and that our + self-evident proposition has not wholly resisted the assaults of + scepticism. To say that any given person believes some things so firmly + that he cannot be made to doubt them is no doubt true. Such beliefs he + will be willing to use as premisses in reasoning, and to him personally + they will seem to have as much evidence as any belief can need. But among + the propositions which one man finds indubitable there will be some that + another man finds it quite possible to doubt. It used to seem self-evident + that there could not be men at the Antipodes, because they would fall off, + or at best grow giddy from standing on their heads. But New Zealanders + find the falsehood of this proposition self-evident. Therefore, if + self-evidence is a guarantee of truth, our ancestors must have been + mistaken in thinking their beliefs about the Antipodes self-evident. + Meinong meets this difficulty by saying that some beliefs are falsely + thought to be self-evident, but in the case of others it is self-evident + that they are self-evident, and these are wholly reliable. Even this, + however, does not remove the practical risk of error, since we may + mistakenly believe it self-evident that a certain belief is self-evident. + To remove all risk of error, we shall need an endless series of more and + more complicated self-evident beliefs, which cannot possibly be realized + in practice. It would seem, therefore, that self-evidence is useless as a + practical criterion for insuring truth. + </p> + <p> + The same result follows from examining instances. If we take the four + instances mentioned at the beginning of this discussion, we shall find + that three of them are logical, while the fourth is a judgment of + perception. The proposition that two and two are four follows by purely + logical deduction from definitions: that means that its truth results, not + from the properties of objects, but from the meanings of symbols. Now + symbols, in mathematics, mean what we choose; thus the feeling of + self-evidence, in this case, seems explicable by the fact that the whole + matter is within our control. I do not wish to assert that this is the + whole truth about mathematical propositions, for the question is + complicated, and I do not know what the whole truth is. But I do wish to + suggest that the feeling of self-evidence in mathematical propositions has + to do with the fact that they are concerned with the meanings of symbols, + not with properties of the world such as external observation might + reveal. + </p> + <p> + Similar considerations apply to the impossibility of a thing being in two + places at once, or of two things being in one place at the same time. + These impossibilities result logically, if I am not mistaken, from the + definitions of one thing and one place. That is to say, they are not laws + of physics, but only part of the intellectual apparatus which we have + manufactured for manipulating physics. Their self-evidence, if this is so, + lies merely in the fact that they represent our decision as to the use of + words, not a property of physical objects. + </p> + <p> + Judgments of perception, such as "this buttercup is yellow," are in a + quite different position from judgments of logic, and their self-evidence + must have a different explanation. In order to arrive at the nucleus of + such a judgment, we will eliminate, as far as possible, the use of words + which take us beyond the present fact, such as "buttercup" and "yellow." + The simplest kind of judgment underlying the perception that a buttercup + is yellow would seem to be the perception of similarity in two colours + seen simultaneously. Suppose we are seeing two buttercups, and we perceive + that their colours are similar. This similarity is a physical fact, not a + matter of symbols or words; and it certainly seems to be indubitable in a + way that many judgments are not. + </p> + <p> + The first thing to observe, in regard to such judgments, is that as they + stand they are vague. The word "similar" is a vague word, since there are + degrees of similarity, and no one can say where similarity ends and + dissimilarity begins. It is unlikely that our two buttercups have EXACTLY + the same colour, and if we judged that they had we should have passed + altogether outside the region of self-evidence. To make our proposition + more precise, let us suppose that we are also seeing a red rose at the + same time. Then we may judge that the colours of the buttercups are more + similar to each other than to the colour of the rose. This judgment seems + more complicated, but has certainly gained in precision. Even now, + however, it falls short of complete precision, since similarity is not + prima facie measurable, and it would require much discussion to decide + what we mean by greater or less similarity. To this process of the pursuit + of precision there is strictly no limit. + </p> + <p> + The next thing to observe (although I do not personally doubt that most of + our judgments of perception are true) is that it is very difficult to + define any class of such judgments which can be known, by its intrinsic + quality, to be always exempt from error. Most of our judgments of + perception involve correlations, as when we judge that a certain noise is + that of a passing cart. Such judgments are all obviously liable to error, + since there is no correlation of which we have a right to be certain that + it is invariable. Other judgments of perception are derived from + recognition, as when we say "this is a buttercup," or even merely "this is + yellow." All such judgments entail some risk of error, though sometimes + perhaps a very small one; some flowers that look like buttercups are + marigolds, and colours that some would call yellow others might call + orange. Our subjective certainty is usually a result of habit, and may + lead us astray in circumstances which are unusual in ways of which we are + unaware. + </p> + <p> + For such reasons, no form of self-evidence seems to afford an absolute + criterion of truth. Nevertheless, it is perhaps true that judgments having + a high degree of subjective certainty are more apt to be true than other + judgments. But if this be the case, it is a result to be demonstrated, not + a premiss from which to start in defining truth and falsehood. As an + initial guarantee, therefore, neither self-evidence nor subjective + certainty can be accepted as adequate. + </p> + <p> + (2) Coherence.—Coherence as the definition of truth is advocated by + idealists, particularly by those who in the main follow Hegel. It is set + forth ably in Mr. Joachim's book, "The Nature of Truth" (Oxford, 1906). + According to this view, any set of propositions other than the whole of + truth can be condemned on purely logical grounds, as internally + inconsistent; a single proposition, if it is what we should ordinarily + call false, contradicts itself irremediably, while if it is what we should + ordinarily call true, it has implications which compel us to admit other + propositions, which in turn lead to others, and so on, until we find + ourselves committed to the whole of truth. One might illustrate by a very + simple example: if I say "so-and-so is a married man," that is not a + self-subsistent proposition. We cannot logically conceive of a universe in + which this proposition constituted the whole of truth. There must be also + someone who is a married woman, and who is married to the particular man + in question. The view we are considering regards everything that can be + said about any one object as relative in the same sort of way as + "so-and-so is a married man." But everything, according to this view, is + relative, not to one or two other things, but to all other things, so that + from one bit of truth the whole can be inferred. + </p> + <p> + The fundamental objection to this view is logical, and consists in a + criticism of its doctrine as to relations. I shall omit this line of + argument, which I have developed elsewhere.* For the moment I will content + myself with saying that the powers of logic seem to me very much less than + this theory supposes. If it were taken seriously, its advocates ought to + profess that any one truth is logically inferable from any other, and + that, for example, the fact that Caesar conquered Gaul, if adequately + considered, would enable us to discover what the weather will be + to-morrow. No such claim is put forward in practice, and the necessity of + empirical observation is not denied; but according to the theory it ought + to be. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * In the article on "The Monistic Theory of Truth" in + "Philosophical Essays" (Longmans, 1910), reprinted from the + "Proceedings of the Aristotelian Society," 1906-7. +</pre> + <p> + Another objection is that no endeavour is made to show that we cannot form + a consistent whole composed partly or wholly of false propositions, as in + a novel. Leibniz's conception of many possible worlds seems to accord much + better with modern logic and with the practical empiricism which is now + universal. The attempt to deduce the world by pure thought is attractive, + and in former times was largely supposed capable of success. But nowadays + most men admit that beliefs must be tested by observation, and not merely + by the fact that they harmonize with other beliefs. A consistent + fairy-tale is a different thing from truth, however elaborate it may be. + But to pursue this topic would lead us into difficult technicalities; I + shall therefore assume, without further argument, that coherence is not + sufficient as a definition of truth. + </p> + <p> + III. Many difficult problems arise as regards the verifiability of + beliefs. We believe various things, and while we believe them we think we + know them. But it sometimes turns out that we were mistaken, or at any + rate we come to think we were. We must be mistaken either in our previous + opinion or in our subsequent recantation; therefore our beliefs are not + all correct, and there are cases of belief which are not cases of + knowledge. The question of verifiability is in essence this: can we + discover any set of beliefs which are never mistaken or any test which, + when applicable, will always enable us to discriminate between true and + false beliefs? Put thus broadly and abstractly, the answer must be + negative. There is no way hitherto discovered of wholly eliminating the + risk of error, and no infallible criterion. If we believe we have found a + criterion, this belief itself may be mistaken; we should be begging the + question if we tried to test the criterion by applying the criterion to + itself. + </p> + <p> + But although the notion of an absolute criterion is chimerical, there may + be relative criteria, which increase the probability of truth. Common + sense and science hold that there are. Let us see what they have to say. + </p> + <p> + One of the plainest cases of verification, perhaps ultimately the only + case, consists in the happening of something expected. You go to the + station believing that there will be a train at a certain time; you find + the train, you get into it, and it starts at the expected time This + constitutes verification, and is a perfectly definite experience. It is, + in a sense, the converse of memory instead of having first sensations and + then images accompanied by belief, we have first images accompanied by + belief and then sensations. Apart from differences as to the time-order + and the accompanying feelings, the relation between image and sensation is + closely similar in the two cases of memory and expectation; it is a + relation of similarity, with difference as to causal efficacy—broadly, + the image has the psychological but not the physical effects that the + sensation would have. When an image accompanied by an expectation-belief + is thus succeeded by a sensation which is the "meaning" of the image, we + say that the expectation-belief has been verified. The experience of + verification in this sense is exceedingly familiar; it happens every time + that accustomed activities have results that are not surprising, in eating + and walking and talking and all our daily pursuits. + </p> + <p> + But although the experience in question is common, it is not wholly easy + to give a theoretical account of it. How do we know that the sensation + resembles the previous image? Does the image persist in presence of the + sensation, so that we can compare the two? And even if SOME image does + persist, how do we know that it is the previous image unchanged? It does + not seem as if this line of inquiry offered much hope of a successful + issue. It is better, I think, to take a more external and causal view of + the relation of expectation to expected occurrence. If the occurrence, + when it comes, gives us the feeling of expectedness, and if the + expectation, beforehand, enabled us to act in a way which proves + appropriate to the occurrence, that must be held to constitute the maximum + of verification. We have first an expectation, then a sensation with the + feeling of expectedness related to memory of the expectation. This whole + experience, when it occurs, may be defined as verification, and as + constituting the truth of the expectation. Appropriate action, during the + period of expectation, may be regarded as additional verification, but is + not essential. The whole process may be illustrated by looking up a + familiar quotation, finding it in the expected words, and in the expected + part of the book. In this case we can strengthen the verification by + writing down beforehand the words which we expect to find. + </p> + <p> + I think all verification is ultimately of the above sort. We verify a + scientific hypothesis indirectly, by deducing consequences as to the + future, which subsequent experience confirms. If somebody were to doubt + whether Caesar had crossed the Rubicon, verification could only be + obtained from the future. We could proceed to display manuscripts to our + historical sceptic, in which it was said that Caesar had behaved in this + way. We could advance arguments, verifiable by future experience, to prove + the antiquity of the manuscript from its texture, colour, etc. We could + find inscriptions agreeing with the historian on other points, and tending + to show his general accuracy. The causal laws which our arguments would + assume could be verified by the future occurrence of events inferred by + means of them. The existence and persistence of causal laws, it is true, + must be regarded as a fortunate accident, and how long it will continue we + cannot tell. Meanwhile verification remains often practically possible. + And since it is sometimes possible, we can gradually discover what kinds + of beliefs tend to be verified by experience, and what kinds tend to be + falsified; to the former kinds we give an increased degree of assent, to + the latter kinds a diminished degree. The process is not absolute or + infallible, but it has been found capable of sifting beliefs and building + up science. It affords no theoretical refutation of the sceptic, whose + position must remain logically unassailable; but if complete scepticism is + rejected, it gives the practical method by which the system of our beliefs + grows gradually towards the unattainable ideal of impeccable knowledge. + </p> + <p> + IV. I come now to the purely formal definition of the truth or falsehood + of a belief. For this definition it is necessary first of all to consider + the derivation of the objective reference of a proposition from the + meanings of its component words or images. + </p> + <p> + Just as a word has meaning, so a proposition has an objective reference. + The objective reference of a proposition is a function (in the + mathematical sense) of the meanings of its component words. But the + objective reference differs from the meaning of a word through the duality + of truth and falsehood. You may believe the proposition "to-day is + Tuesday" both when, in fact, to-day is Tuesday, and when to-day is not + Tuesday. If to-day is not Tuesday, this fact is the objective of your + belief that to-day is Tuesday. But obviously the relation of your belief + to the fact is different in this case from what it is in the case when + to-day is Tuesday. We may say, metaphorically, that when to-day is + Tuesday, your belief that it is Tuesday points TOWARDS the fact, whereas + when to-day is not Tuesday your belief points AWAY FROM the fact. Thus the + objective reference of a belief is not determined by the fact alone, but + by the direction of the belief towards or away from the fact.* If, on a + Tuesday, one man believes that it is Tuesday while another believes that + it is not Tuesday, their beliefs have the same objective, namely the fact + that it is Tuesday but the true belief points towards the fact while the + false one points away from it. Thus, in order to define the reference of a + proposition we have to take account not only of the objective, but also of + the direction of pointing, towards the objective in the case of a true + proposition and away from it in the case of a false one. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * I owe this way of looking at the matter to my friend + Ludwig Wittgenstein. +</pre> + <p> + This mode of stating the nature of the objective reference of a + proposition is necessitated by the circumstance that there are true and + false propositions, but not true and false facts. If to-day is Tuesday, + there is not a false objective "to-day is not Tuesday," which could be the + objective of the false belief "to-day is not Tuesday." This is the reason + why two beliefs which are each other's contradictories have the same + objective. There is, however, a practical inconvenience, namely that we + cannot determine the objective reference of a proposition, according to + this definition, unless we know whether the proposition is true or false. + To avoid this inconvenience, it is better to adopt a slightly different + phraseology, and say: The "meaning" of the proposition "to-day is Tuesday" + consists in pointing to the fact "to-day is Tuesday" if that is a fact, or + away from the fact "to-day is not Tuesday" if that is a fact. The + "meaning" of the proposition "to-day is not Tuesday" will be exactly the + opposite. By this hypothetical form we are able to speak of the meaning of + a proposition without knowing whether it is true or false. According to + this definition, we know the meaning of a proposition when we know what + would make it true and what would make it false, even if we do not know + whether it is in fact true or false. + </p> + <p> + The meaning of a proposition is derivative from the meanings of its + constituent words. Propositions occur in pairs, distinguished (in simple + cases) by the absence or presence of the word "not." Two such propositions + have the same objective, but opposite meanings: when one is true, the + other is false, and when one is false, the other is true. + </p> + <p> + The purely formal definition of truth and falsehood offers little + difficulty. What is required is a formal expression of the fact that a + proposition is true when it points towards its objective, and false when + it points away from it, In very simple cases we can give a very simple + account of this: we can say that true propositions actually resemble their + objectives in a way in which false propositions do not. But for this + purpose it is necessary to revert to image-propositions instead of + word-propositions. Let us take again the illustration of a memory-image of + a familiar room, and let us suppose that in the image the window is to the + left of the door. If in fact the window is to the left of the door, there + is a correspondence between the image and the objective; there is the same + relation between the window and the door as between the images of them. + The image-memory consists of the image of the window to the left of the + image of the door. When this is true, the very same relation relates the + terms of the objective (namely the window and the door) as relates the + images which mean them. In this case the correspondence which constitutes + truth is very simple. + </p> + <p> + In the case we have just been considering the objective consists of two + parts with a certain relation (that of left-to-right), and the proposition + consists of images of these parts with the very same relation. The same + proposition, if it were false, would have a less simple formal relation to + its objective. If the image-proposition consists of an image of the window + to the left of an image of the door, while in fact the window is not to + the left of the door, the proposition does not result from the objective + by the mere substitution of images for their prototypes. Thus in this + unusually simple case we can say that a true proposition "corresponds" to + its objective in a formal sense in which a false proposition does not. + Perhaps it may be possible to modify this notion of formal correspondence + in such a way as to be more widely applicable, but if so, the + modifications required will be by no means slight. The reasons for this + must now be considered. + </p> + <p> + To begin with, the simple type of correspondence we have been exhibiting + can hardly occur when words are substituted for images, because, in + word-propositions, relations are usually expressed by words, which are not + themselves relations. Take such a proposition as "Socrates precedes + Plato." Here the word "precedes" is just as solid as the words "Socrates" + and "Plato"; it MEANS a relation, but is not a relation. Thus the + objective which makes our proposition true consists of TWO terms with a + relation between them, whereas our proposition consists of THREE terms + with a relation of order between them. Of course, it would be perfectly + possible, theoretically, to indicate a few chosen relations, not by words, + but by relations between the other words. "Socrates-Plato" might be used + to mean "Socrates precedes Plato"; "Plato-Socrates" might be used to mean + "Plato was born before Socrates and died after him"; and so on. But the + possibilities of such a method would be very limited. For aught I know, + there may be languages that use it, but they are not among the languages + with which I am acquainted. And in any case, in view of the multiplicity + of relations that we wish to express, no language could advance far + without words for relations. But as soon as we have words for relations, + word-propositions have necessarily more terms than the facts to which they + refer, and cannot therefore correspond so simply with their objectives as + some image-propositions can. + </p> + <p> + The consideration of negative propositions and negative facts introduces + further complications. An image-proposition is necessarily positive: we + can image the window to the left of the door, or to the right of the door, + but we can form no image of the bare negative "the window not to the left + of the door." We can DISBELIEVE the image-proposition expressed by "the + window to the left of the door," and our disbelief will be true if the + window is not to the left of the door. But we can form no image of the + fact that the window is not to the left of the door. Attempts have often + been made to deny such negative facts, but, for reasons which I have given + elsewhere,* I believe these attempts to be mistaken, and I shall assume + that there are negative facts. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * "Monist," January, 1919, p. 42 ff. +</pre> + <p> + Word-propositions, like image-propositions, are always positive facts. The + fact that Socrates precedes Plato is symbolized in English by the fact + that the word "precedes" occurs between the words "Socrates" and "Plato." + But we cannot symbolize the fact that Plato does not precede Socrates by + not putting the word "precedes" between "Plato" and "Socrates." A negative + fact is not sensible, and language, being intended for communication, has + to be sensible. Therefore we symbolize the fact that Plato does not + precede Socrates by putting the words "does not precede" between "Plato" + and "Socrates." We thus obtain a series of words which is just as positive + a fact as the series "Socrates precedes Plato." The propositions asserting + negative facts are themselves positive facts; they are merely different + positive facts from those asserting positive facts. + </p> + <p> + We have thus, as regards the opposition of positive and negative, three + different sorts of duality, according as we are dealing with facts, + image-propositions, or word-propositions. We have, namely: + </p> + <p> + (1) Positive and negative facts; + </p> + <p> + (2) Image-propositions, which may be believed or disbelieved, but do not + allow any duality of content corresponding to positive and negative facts; + </p> + <p> + (3) Word-propositions, which are always positive facts, but are of two + kinds: one verified by a positive objective, the other by a negative + objective. + </p> + <p> + Owing to these complications, the simplest type of correspondence is + impossible when either negative facts or negative propositions are + involved. + </p> + <p> + Even when we confine ourselves to relations between two terms which are + both imaged, it may be impossible to form an image-proposition in which + the relation of the terms is represented by the same relation of the + images. Suppose we say "Caesar was 2,000 years before Foch," we express a + certain temporal relation between Caesar and Foch; but we cannot allow + 2,000 years to elapse between our image of Caesar and our image of Foch. + This is perhaps not a fair example, since "2,000 years before" is not a + direct relation. But take a case where the relation is direct, say, "the + sun is brighter than the moon." We can form visual images of sunshine and + moonshine, and it may happen that our image of the sunshine is the + brighter of the two, but this is by no means either necessary or + sufficient. The act of comparison, implied in our judgment, is something + more than the mere coexistence of two images, one of which is in fact + brighter than the other. It would take us too far from our main topic if + we were to go into the question what actually occurs when we make this + judgment. Enough has been said to show that the correspondence between the + belief and its objective is more complicated in this case than in that of + the window to the left of the door, and this was all that had to be + proved. + </p> + <p> + In spite of these complications, the general nature of the formal + correspondence which makes truth is clear from our instances. In the case + of the simpler kind of propositions, namely those that I call "atomic" + propositions, where there is only one word expressing a relation, the + objective which would verify our proposition, assuming that the word "not" + is absent, is obtained by replacing each word by what it means, the word + meaning a relation being replaced by this relation among the meanings of + the other words. For example, if the proposition is "Socrates precedes + Plato," the objective which verifies it results from replacing the word + "Socrates" by Socrates, the word "Plato" by Plato, and the word "precedes" + by the relation of preceding between Socrates and Plato. If the result of + this process is a fact, the proposition is true; if not, it is false. When + our proposition is "Socrates does not precede Plato," the conditions of + truth and falsehood are exactly reversed. More complicated propositions + can be dealt with on the same lines. In fact, the purely formal question, + which has occupied us in this last section, offers no very formidable + difficulties. + </p> + <p> + I do not believe that the above formal theory is untrue, but I do believe + that it is inadequate. It does not, for example, throw any light upon our + preference for true beliefs rather than false ones. This preference is + only explicable by taking account of the causal efficacy of beliefs, and + of the greater appropriateness of the responses resulting from true + beliefs. But appropriateness depends upon purpose, and purpose thus + becomes a vital part of theory of knowledge. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0017" id="link2H_4_0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LECTURE XIV. EMOTIONS AND WILL + </h2> + <p> + On the two subjects of the present lecture I have nothing original to say, + and I am treating them only in order to complete the discussion of my main + thesis, namely that all psychic phenomena are built up out of sensations + and images alone. + </p> + <p> + Emotions are traditionally regarded by psychologists as a separate class + of mental occurrences: I am, of course, not concerned to deny the obvious + fact that they have characteristics which make a special investigation of + them necessary. What I am concerned with is the analysis of emotions. It + is clear that an emotion is essentially complex, and we have to inquire + whether it ever contains any non-physiological material not reducible to + sensations and images and their relations. + </p> + <p> + Although what specially concerns us is the analysis of emotions, we shall + find that the more important topic is the physiological causation of + emotions. This is a subject upon which much valuable and exceedingly + interesting work has been done, whereas the bare analysis of emotions has + proved somewhat barren. In view of the fact that we have defined + perceptions, sensations, and images by their physiological causation, it + is evident that our problem of the analysis of the emotions is bound up + with the problem of their physiological causation. + </p> + <p> + Modern views on the causation of emotions begin with what is called the + James-Lange theory. James states this view in the following terms + ("Psychology," vol. ii, p. 449): + </p> + <p> + "Our natural way of thinking about these coarser emotions, grief, fear, + rage, love, is that the mental perception of some fact excites the mental + affection called the emotion, and that this latter state of mind gives + rise to the bodily expression. My theory, on the contrary, is that THE + BODILY CHANGES FOLLOW DIRECTLY THE PERCEPTION OF THE EXCITING FACT, AND + THAT OUR FEELING OF THE SAME CHANGES AS THEY OCCUR <i>IS</i> THE EMOTION + (James's italics). Common sense says: we lose our fortune, are sorry and + weep; we meet a bear, are frightened and run; we are insulted by a rival, + are angry and strike. The hypothesis here to be defended says that this + order of sequence is incorrect, that the one mental state is not + immediately induced by the other, that the bodily manifestations must + first be interposed between, and that the more rational statement is that + we feel sorry because we cry, angry because we strike, afraid because we + tremble, and not that we cry, strike, or tremble, because we are sorry, + angry, or fearful, as the case may be. Without the bodily states following + on the perception, the latter would be purely cognitive in form, pale, + colourless, destitute of emotional warmth." + </p> + <p> + Round this hypothesis a very voluminous literature has grown up. The + history of its victory over earlier criticism, and its difficulties with + the modern experimental work of Sherrington and Cannon, is well told by + James R. Angell in an article called "A Reconsideration of James's Theory + of Emotion in the Light of Recent Criticisms."* In this article Angell + defends James's theory and to me—though I speak with diffidence on a + question as to which I have little competence—it appears that his + defence is on the whole successful. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * "Psychological Review," 1916. +</pre> + <p> + Sherrington, by experiments on dogs, showed that many of the usual marks + of emotion were present in their behaviour even when, by severing the + spinal cord in the lower cervical region, the viscera were cut off from + all communication with the brain, except that existing through certain + cranial nerves. He mentions the various signs which "contributed to + indicate the existence of an emotion as lively as the animal had ever + shown us before the spinal operation had been made."* He infers that the + physiological condition of the viscera cannot be the cause of the emotion + displayed under such circumstances, and concludes: "We are forced back + toward the likelihood that the visceral expression of emotion is SECONDARY + to the cerebral action occurring with the psychical state.... We may with + James accept visceral and organic sensations and the memories and + associations of them as contributory to primitive emotion, but we must + regard them as re-enforcing rather than as initiating the psychosis."* + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * Quoted by Angell, loc. cit. +</pre> + <p> + Angell suggests that the display of emotion in such cases may be due to + past experience, generating habits which would require only the + stimulation of cerebral reflex arcs. Rage and some forms of fear, however, + may, he thinks, gain expression without the brain. Rage and fear have been + especially studied by Cannon, whose work is of the greatest importance. + His results are given in his book, "Bodily Changes in Pain, Hunger, Fear + and Rage" (D. Appleton and Co., 1916). + </p> + <p> + The most interesting part of Cannon's book consists in the investigation + of the effects produced by secretion of adrenin. Adrenin is a substance + secreted into the blood by the adrenal glands. These are among the + ductless glands, the functions of which, both in physiology and in + connection with the emotions, have only come to be known during recent + years. Cannon found that pain, fear and rage occurred in circumstances + which affected the supply of adrenin, and that an artificial injection of + adrenin could, for example, produce all the symptoms of fear. He studied + the effects of adrenin on various parts of the body; he found that it + causes the pupils to dilate, hairs to stand erect, blood vessels to be + constricted, and so on. These effects were still produced if the parts in + question were removed from the body and kept alive artificially.* + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * Cannon's work is not unconnected with that of Mosso, who + maintains, as the result of much experimental work, that + "the seat of the emotions lies in the sympathetic nervous + system." An account of the work of both these men will be + found in Goddard's "Psychology of the Normal and Sub-normal" + (Kegan Paul, 1919), chap. vii and Appendix. +</pre> + <p> + Cannon's chief argument against James is, if I understand him rightly, + that similar affections of the viscera may accompany dissimilar emotions, + especially fear and rage. Various different emotions make us cry, and + therefore it cannot be true to say, as James does, that we "feel sorry + because we cry," since sometimes we cry when we feel glad. This argument, + however, is by no means conclusive against James, because it cannot be + shown that there are no visceral differences for different emotions, and + indeed it is unlikely that this is the case. + </p> + <p> + As Angell says (loc. cit.): "Fear and joy may both cause cardiac + palpitation, but in one case we find high tonus of the skeletal muscles, + in the other case relaxation and the general sense of weakness." + </p> + <p> + Angell's conclusion, after discussing the experiments of Sherrington and + Cannon, is: "I would therefore submit that, so far as concerns the + critical suggestions by these two psychologists, James's essential + contentions are not materially affected." If it were necessary for me to + take sides on this question, I should agree with this conclusion; but I + think my thesis as to the analysis of emotion can be maintained without + coming to a probably premature conclusion upon the doubtful parts of the + physiological problem. + </p> + <p> + According to our definitions, if James is right, an emotion may be + regarded as involving a confused perception of the viscera concerned in + its causation, while if Cannon and Sherrington are right, an emotion + involves a confused perception of its external stimulus. This follows from + what was said in Lecture VII. We there defined a perception as an + appearance, however irregular, of one or more objects external to the + brain. And in order to be an appearance of one or more objects, it is only + necessary that the occurrence in question should be connected with them by + a continuous chain, and should vary when they are varied sufficiently. + Thus the question whether a mental occurrence can be called a perception + turns upon the question whether anything can be inferred from it as to its + causes outside the brain: if such inference is possible, the occurrence in + question will come within our definition of a perception. And in that + case, according to the definition in Lecture VIII, its non-mnemic elements + will be sensations. Accordingly, whether emotions are caused by changes in + the viscera or by sensible objects, they contain elements which are + sensations according to our definition. + </p> + <p> + An emotion in its entirety is, of course, something much more complex than + a perception. An emotion is essentially a process, and it will be only + what one may call a cross-section of the emotion that will be a + perception, of a bodily condition according to James, or (in certain + cases) of an external object according to his opponents. An emotion in its + entirety contains dynamic elements, such as motor impulses, desires, + pleasures and pains. Desires and pleasures and pains, according to the + theory adopted in Lecture III, are characteristics of processes, not + separate ingredients. An emotion—rage, for example—will be a + certain kind of process, consisting of perceptions and (in general) bodily + movements. The desires and pleasures and pains involved are properties of + this process, not separate items in the stuff of which the emotion is + composed. The dynamic elements in an emotion, if we are right in our + analysis, contain, from our point of view, no ingredients beyond those + contained in the processes considered in Lecture III. The ingredients of + an emotion are only sensations and images and bodily movements succeeding + each other according to a certain pattern. With this conclusion we may + leave the emotions and pass to the consideration of the will. + </p> + <p> + The first thing to be defined when we are dealing with Will is a VOLUNTARY + MOVEMENT. We have already defined vital movements, and we have maintained + that, from a behaviourist standpoint, it is impossible to distinguish + which among such movements are reflex and which voluntary. Nevertheless, + there certainly is a distinction. When we decide in the morning that it is + time to get up, our consequent movement is voluntary. The beating of the + heart, on the other hand, is involuntary: we can neither cause it nor + prevent it by any decision of our own, except indirectly, as e.g. by + drugs. Breathing is intermediate between the two: we normally breathe + without the help of the will, but we can alter or stop our breathing if we + choose. + </p> + <p> + James ("Psychology," chap. xxvi) maintains that the only distinctive + characteristic of a voluntary act is that it involves an idea of the + movement to be performed, made up of memory-images of the kinaesthetic + sensations which we had when the same movement occurred on some former + occasion. He points out that, on this view, no movement can be made + voluntarily unless it has previously occurred involuntarily.* + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * "Psychology," Vol. ii, pp. 492-3. +</pre> + <p> + I see no reason to doubt the correctness of this view. We shall say, then, + that movements which are accompanied by kinaesthetic sensations tend to be + caused by the images of those sensations, and when so caused are called + VOLUNTARY. + </p> + <p> + Volition, in the emphatic sense, involves something more than voluntary + movement. The sort of case I am thinking of is decision after + deliberation. Voluntary movements are a part of this, but not the whole. + There is, in addition to them, a judgment: "This is what I shall do"; + there is also a sensation of tension during doubt, followed by a different + sensation at the moment of deciding. I see no reason whatever to suppose + that there is any specifically new ingredient; sensations and images, with + their relations and causal laws, yield all that seems to be wanted for the + analysis of the will, together with the fact that kinaesthetic images tend + to cause the movements with which they are connected. Conflict of desires + is of course essential in the causation of the emphatic kind of will: + there will be for a time kinaesthetic images of incompatible movements, + followed by the exclusive image of the movement which is said to be + willed. Thus will seems to add no new irreducible ingredient to the + analysis of the mind. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0018" id="link2H_4_0018"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LECTURE XV. CHARACTERISTICS OF MENTAL PHENOMENA + </h2> + <p> + At the end of our journey it is time to return to the question from which + we set out, namely: What is it that characterizes mind as opposed to + matter? Or, to state the same question in other terms: How is psychology + to be distinguished from physics? The answer provisionally suggested at + the outset of our inquiry was that psychology and physics are + distinguished by the nature of their causal laws, not by their subject + matter. At the same time we held that there is a certain subject matter, + namely images, to which only psychological causal laws are applicable; + this subject matter, therefore, we assigned exclusively to psychology. But + we found no way of defining images except through their causation; in + their intrinsic character they appeared to have no universal mark by which + they could be distinguished from sensations. + </p> + <p> + In this last lecture I propose to pass in review various suggested methods + of distinguishing mind from matter. I shall then briefly sketch the nature + of that fundamental science which I believe to be the true metaphysic, in + which mind and matter alike are seen to be constructed out of a neutral + stuff, whose causal laws have no such duality as that of psychology, but + form the basis upon which both physics and psychology are built. + </p> + <p> + In search for the definition of "mental phenomena," let us begin with + "consciousness," which is often thought to be the essence of mind. In the + first lecture I gave various arguments against the view that consciousness + is fundamental, but I did not attempt to say what consciousness is. We + must find a definition of it, if we are to feel secure in deciding that it + is not fundamental. It is for the sake of the proof that it is not + fundamental that we must now endeavour to decide what it is. + </p> + <p> + "Consciousness," by those who regard it as fundamental, is taken to be a + character diffused throughout our mental life, distinct from sensations + and images, memories, beliefs and desires, but present in all of them.* + Dr. Henry Head, in an article which I quoted in Lecture III, + distinguishing sensations from purely physiological occurrences, says: + "Sensation, in the strict sense of the term, demands the existence of + consciousness." This statement, at first sight, is one to which we feel + inclined to assent, but I believe we are mistaken if we do so. Sensation + is the sort of thing of which we MAY be conscious, but not a thing of + which we MUST be conscious. We have been led, in the course of our + inquiry, to admit unconscious beliefs and unconscious desires. There is, + so far as I can see, no class of mental or other occurrences of which we + are always conscious whenever they happen. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * Cf. Lecture VI. +</pre> + <p> + The first thing to notice is that consciousness must be of something. In + view of this, I should define "consciousness" in terms of that relation of + an image of a word to an object which we defined, in Lecture XI, as + "meaning." When a sensation is followed by an image which is a "copy" of + it, I think it may be said that the existence of the image constitutes + consciousness of the sensation, provided it is accompanied by that sort of + belief which, when we reflect upon it, makes us feel that the image is a + "sign" of something other than itself. This is the sort of belief which, + in the case of memory, we expressed in the words "this occurred"; or + which, in the case of a judgment of perception, makes us believe in + qualities correlated with present sensations, as e.g., tactile and visual + qualities are correlated. The addition of some element of belief seems + required, since mere imagination does not involve consciousness of + anything, and there can be no consciousness which is not of something. If + images alone constituted consciousness of their prototypes, such + imagination-images as in fact have prototypes would involve consciousness + of them; since this is not the case, an element of belief must be added to + the images in defining consciousness. The belief must be of that sort that + constitutes objective reference, past or present. An image, together with + a belief of this sort concerning it, constitutes, according to our + definition, consciousness of the prototype of the image. + </p> + <p> + But when we pass from consciousness of sensations to consciousness of + objects of perception, certain further points arise which demand an + addition to our definition. A judgment of perception, we may say, consists + of a core of sensation, together with associated images, with belief in + the present existence of an object to which sensation and images are + referred in a way which is difficult to analyse. Perhaps we might say that + the belief is not fundamentally in any PRESENT existence, but is of the + nature of an expectation: for example, when we see an object, we expect + certain sensations to result if we proceed to touch it. Perception, then, + will consist of a present sensation together with expectations of future + sensations. (This, of course, is a reflective analysis, not an account of + the way perception appears to unchecked introspection.) But all such + expectations are liable to be erroneous, since they are based upon + correlations which are usual but not invariable. Any such correlation may + mislead us in a particular case, for example, if we try to touch a + reflection in a looking-glass under the impression that it is "real." + Since memory is fallible, a similar difficulty arises as regards + consciousness of past objects. It would seem odd to say that we can be + "conscious" of a thing which does not or did not exist. The only way to + avoid this awkwardness is to add to our definition the proviso that the + beliefs involved in consciousness must be TRUE. + </p> + <p> + In the second place, the question arises as to whether we can be conscious + of images. If we apply our definition to this case, it seems to demand + images of images. In order, for example, to be conscious of an image of a + cat, we shall require, according to the letter of the definition, an image + which is a copy of our image of the cat, and has this image for its + prototype. Now, it hardly seems probable, as a matter of observation, that + there are images of images, as opposed to images of sensations. We may + meet this difficulty in two ways, either by boldly denying consciousness + of images, or by finding a sense in which, by means of a different + accompanying belief, an image, instead of meaning its prototype, can mean + another image of the same prototype. + </p> + <p> + The first alternative, which denies consciousness of images, has already + been discussed when we were dealing with Introspection in Lecture VI. We + then decided that there must be, in some sense, consciousness of images. + We are therefore left with the second suggested way of dealing with + knowledge of images. According to this second hypothesis, there may be two + images of the same prototype, such that one of them means the other, + instead of meaning the prototype. It will be remembered that we defined + meaning by association a word or image means an object, we said, when it + has the same associations as the object. But this definition must not be + interpreted too absolutely: a word or image will not have ALL the same + associations as the object which it means. The word "cat" may be + associated with the word "mat," but it would not happen except by accident + that a cat would be associated with a mat. And in like manner an image may + have certain associations which its prototype will not have, e.g. an + association with the word "image." When these associations are active, an + image means an image, instead of meaning its prototype. If I have had + images of a given prototype many times, I can mean one of these, as + opposed to the rest, by recollecting the time and place or any other + distinctive association of that one occasion. This happens, for example, + when a place recalls to us some thought we previously had in that place, + so that we remember a thought as opposed to the occurrence to which it + referred. Thus we may say that we think of an image A when we have a + similar image B associated with recollections of circumstances connected + with A, but not with its prototype or with other images of the same + prototype. In this way we become aware of images without the need of any + new store of mental contents, merely by the help of new associations. This + theory, so far as I can see, solves the problems of introspective + knowledge, without requiring heroic measures such as those proposed by + Knight Dunlap, whose views we discussed in Lecture VI. + </p> + <p> + According to what we have been saying, sensation itself is not an instance + of consciousness, though the immediate memory by which it is apt to be + succeeded is so. A sensation which is remembered becomes an object of + consciousness as soon as it begins to be remembered, which will normally + be almost immediately after its occurrence (if at all); but while it + exists it is not an object of consciousness. If, however, it is part of a + perception, say of some familiar person, we may say that the person + perceived is an object of consciousness. For in this case the sensation is + a SIGN of the perceived object in much the same way in which a + memory-image is a sign of a remembered object. The essential practical + function of "consciousness" and "thought" is that they enable us to act + with reference to what is distant in time or space, even though it is not + at present stimulating our senses. This reference to absent objects is + possible through association and habit. Actual sensations, in themselves, + are not cases of consciousness, because they do not bring in this + reference to what is absent. But their connection with consciousness is + very close, both through immediate memory, and through the correlations + which turn sensations into perceptions. + </p> + <p> + Enough has, I hope, been said to show that consciousness is far too + complex and accidental to be taken as the fundamental characteristic of + mind. We have seen that belief and images both enter into it. Belief + itself, as we saw in an earlier lecture, is complex. Therefore, if any + definition of mind is suggested by our analysis of consciousness, images + are what would naturally suggest themselves. But since we found that + images can only be defined causally, we cannot deal with this suggestion, + except in connection with the difference between physical and + psychological causal laws. + </p> + <p> + I come next to those characteristics of mental phenomena which arise out + of mnemic causation. The possibility of action with reference to what is + not sensibly present is one of the things that might be held to + characterize mind. Let us take first a very elementary example. Suppose + you are in a familiar room at night, and suddenly the light goes out. You + will be able to find your way to the door without much difficulty by means + of the picture of the room which you have in your mind. In this case + visual images serve, somewhat imperfectly it is true, the purpose which + visual sensations would otherwise serve. The stimulus to the production of + visual images is the desire to get out of the room, which, according to + what we found in Lecture III, consists essentially of present sensations + and motor impulses caused by them. Again, words heard or read enable you + to act with reference to the matters about which they give information; + here, again, a present sensible stimulus, in virtue of habits formed in + the past, enables you to act in a manner appropriate to an object which is + not sensibly present. The whole essence of the practical efficiency of + "thought" consists in sensitiveness to signs: the sensible presence of A, + which is a sign of the present or future existence of B, enables us to act + in a manner appropriate to B. Of this, words are the supreme example, + since their effects as signs are prodigious, while their intrinsic + interest as sensible occurrences on their own account is usually very + slight. The operation of signs may or may not be accompanied by + consciousness. If a sensible stimulus A calls up an image of B, and we + then act with reference to B, we have what may be called consciousness of + B. But habit may enable us to act in a manner appropriate to B as soon as + A appears, without ever having an image of B. In that case, although A + operates as a sign, it operates without the help of consciousness. Broadly + speaking, a very familiar sign tends to operate directly in this manner, + and the intervention of consciousness marks an imperfectly established + habit. + </p> + <p> + The power of acquiring experience, which characterizes men and animals, is + an example of the general law that, in mnemic causation, the causal unit + is not one event at one time, but two or more events at two or more times.& + A burnt child fears the fire, that is to say, the neighbourhood of fire + has a different effect upon a child which has had the sensations of + burning than upon one which has not. More correctly, the observed effect, + when a child which has been burnt is put near a fire, has for its cause, + not merely the neighbourhood of the fire, but this together with the + previous burning. The general formula, when an animal has acquired + experience through some event A, is that, when B occurs at some future + time, the animal to which A has happened acts differently from an animal + which A has not happened. Thus A and B together, not either separately, + must be regarded as the cause of the animal's behaviour, unless we take + account of the effect which A has had in altering the animal's nervous + tissue, which is a matter not patent to external observation except under + very special circumstances. With this possibility, we are brought back to + causal laws, and to the suggestion that many things which seem essentially + mental are really neural. Perhaps it is the nerves that acquire experience + rather than the mind. If so, the possibility of acquiring experience + cannot be used to define mind.* + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * Cf. Lecture IV. +</pre> + <p> + Very similar considerations apply to memory, if taken as the essence of + mind. A recollection is aroused by something which is happening now, but + is different from the effect which the present occurrence would have + produced if the recollected event had not occurred. This may be accounted + for by the physical effect of the past event on the brain, making it a + different instrument from that which would have resulted from a different + experience. The causal peculiarities of memory may, therefore, have a + physiological explanation. With every special class of mental phenomena + this possibility meets us afresh. If psychology is to be a separate + science at all, we must seek a wider ground for its separateness than any + that we have been considering hitherto. + </p> + <p> + We have found that "consciousness" is too narrow to characterize mental + phenomena, and that mnemic causation is too wide. I come now to a + characteristic which, though difficult to define, comes much nearer to + what we require, namely subjectivity. + </p> + <p> + Subjectivity, as a characteristic of mental phenomena, was considered in + Lecture VII, in connection with the definition of perception. We there + decided that those particulars which constitute the physical world can be + collected into sets in two ways, one of which makes a bundle of all those + particulars that are appearances of a given thing from different places, + while the other makes a bundle of all those particulars which are + appearances of different things from a given place. A bundle of this + latter sort, at a given time, is called a "perspective"; taken throughout + a period of time, it is called a "biography." Subjectivity is the + characteristic of perspectives and biographies, the characteristic of + giving the view of the world from a certain place. We saw in Lecture VII + that this characteristic involves none of the other characteristics that + are commonly associated with mental phenomena, such as consciousness, + experience and memory. We found in fact that it is exhibited by a + photographic plate, and, strictly speaking, by any particular taken in + conjunction with those which have the same "passive" place in the sense + defined in Lecture VII. The particulars forming one perspective are + connected together primarily by simultaneity; those forming one biography, + primarily by the existence of direct time-relations between them. To these + are to be added relations derivable from the laws of perspective. In all + this we are clearly not in the region of psychology, as commonly + understood; yet we are also hardly in the region of physics. And the + definition of perspectives and biographies, though it does not yet yield + anything that would be commonly called "mental," is presupposed in mental + phenomena, for example in mnemic causation: the causal unit in mnemic + causation, which gives rise to Semon's engram, is the whole of one + perspective—not of any perspective, but of a perspective in a place + where there is nervous tissue, or at any rate living tissue of some sort. + Perception also, as we saw, can only be defined in terms of perspectives. + Thus the conception of subjectivity, i.e. of the "passive" place of a + particular, though not alone sufficient to define mind, is clearly an + essential element in the definition. + </p> + <p> + I have maintained throughout these lectures that the data of psychology do + not differ in, their intrinsic character from the data of physics. I have + maintained that sensations are data for psychology and physics equally, + while images, which may be in some sense exclusively psychological data, + can only be distinguished from sensations by their correlations, not by + what they are in themselves. It is now necessary, however, to examine the + notion of a "datum," and to obtain, if possible, a definition of this + notion. + </p> + <p> + The notion of "data" is familiar throughout science, and is usually + treated by men of science as though it were perfectly clear. + Psychologists, on the other hand, find great difficulty in the conception. + "Data" are naturally defined in terms of theory of knowledge: they are + those propositions of which the truth is known without demonstration, so + that they may be used as premisses in proving other propositions. Further, + when a proposition which is a datum asserts the existence of something, we + say that the something is a datum, as well as the proposition asserting + its existence. Thus those objects of whose existence we become certain + through perception are said to be data. + </p> + <p> + There is some difficulty in connecting this epistemological definition of + "data" with our psychological analysis of knowledge; but until such a + connection has been effected, we have no right to use the conception + "data." + </p> + <p> + It is clear, in the first place, that there can be no datum apart from a + belief. A sensation which merely comes and goes is not a datum; it only + becomes a datum when it is remembered. Similarly, in perception, we do not + have a datum unless we have a JUDGMENT of perception. In the sense in + which objects (as opposed to propositions) are data, it would seem natural + to say that those objects of which we are conscious are data. But + consciousness, as we have seen, is a complex notion, involving beliefs, as + well as mnemic phenomena such as are required for perception and memory. + It follows that no datum is theoretically indubitable, since no belief is + infallible; it follows also that every datum has a greater or less degree + of vagueness, since there is always some vagueness in memory and the + meaning of images. + </p> + <p> + Data are not those things of which our consciousness is earliest in time. + At every period of life, after we have become capable of thought, some of + our beliefs are obtained by inference, while others are not. A belief may + pass from either of these classes into the other, and may therefore + become, or cease to be, a belief giving a datum. When, in what follows, I + speak of data, I do not mean the things of which we feel sure before + scientific study begins, but the things which, when a science is well + advanced, appear as affording grounds for other parts of the science, + without themselves being believed on any ground except observation. I + assume, that is to say, a trained observer, with an analytic attention, + knowing the sort of thing to look for, and the sort of thing that will be + important. What he observes is, at the stage of science which he has + reached, a datum for his science. It is just as sophisticated and + elaborate as the theories which he bases upon it, since only trained + habits and much practice enable a man to make the kind of observation that + will be scientifically illuminating. Nevertheless, when once it has been + observed, belief in it is not based on inference and reasoning, but merely + upon its having been seen. In this way its logical status differs from + that of the theories which are proved by its means. + </p> + <p> + In any science other than psychology the datum is primarily a perception, + in which only the sensational core is ultimately and theoretically a + datum, though some such accretions as turn the sensation into a perception + are practically unavoidable. But if we postulate an ideal observer, he + will be able to isolate the sensation, and treat this alone as datum. + There is, therefore, an important sense in which we may say that, if we + analyse as much as we ought, our data, outside psychology, consist of + sensations, which include within themselves certain spatial and temporal + relations. + </p> + <p> + Applying this remark to physiology, we see that the nerves and brain as + physical objects are not truly data; they are to be replaced, in the ideal + structure of science, by the sensations through which the physiologist is + said to perceive them. The passage from these sensations to nerves and + brain as physical objects belongs really to the initial stage in the + theory of physics, and ought to be placed in the reasoned part, not in the + part supposed to be observed. To say we see the nerves is like saying we + hear the nightingale; both are convenient but inaccurate expressions. We + hear a sound which we believe to be causally connected with the + nightingale, and we see a sight which we believe to be causally connected + with a nerve. But in each case it is only the sensation that ought, in + strictness, to be called a datum. Now, sensations are certainly among the + data of psychology. Therefore all the data of the physical sciences are + also psychological data. It remains to inquire whether all the data of + psychology are also data of physical science, and especially of + physiology. + </p> + <p> + If we have been right in our analysis of mind, the ultimate data of + psychology are only sensations and images and their relations. Beliefs, + desires, volitions, and so on, appeared to us to be complex phenomena + consisting of sensations and images variously interrelated. Thus (apart + from certain relations) the occurrences which seem most distinctively + mental, and furthest removed from physics, are, like physical objects, + constructed or inferred, not part of the original stock of data in the + perfected science. From both ends, therefore, the difference between + physical and psychological data is diminished. Is there ultimately no + difference, or do images remain as irreducibly and exclusively + psychological? In view of the causal definition of the difference between + images and sensations, this brings us to a new question, namely: Are the + causal laws of psychology different from those of any other science, or + are they really physiological? + </p> + <p> + Certain ambiguities must be removed before this question can be adequately + discussed. + </p> + <p> + First, there is the distinction between rough approximate laws and such as + appear to be precise and general. I shall return to the former presently; + it is the latter that I wish to discuss now. + </p> + <p> + Matter, as defined at the end of Lecture V, is a logical fiction, invented + because it gives a convenient way of stating causal laws. Except in cases + of perfect regularity in appearances (of which we can have no experience), + the actual appearances of a piece of matter are not members of that ideal + system of regular appearances which is defined as being the matter in + question. But the matter is, after all, inferred from its appearances, + which are used to VERIFY physical laws. Thus, in so far as physics is an + empirical and verifiable science, it must assume or prove that the + inference from appearances to matter is, in general, legitimate, and it + must be able to tell us, more or less, what appearances to expect. It is + through this question of verifiability and empirical applicability to + experience that we are led to a theory of matter such as I advocate. From + the consideration of this question it results that physics, in so far as + it is an empirical science, not a logical phantasy, is concerned with + particulars of just the same sort as those which psychology considers + under the name of sensations. The causal laws of physics, so interpreted, + differ from those of psychology only by the fact that they connect a + particular with other appearances in the same piece of matter, rather than + with other appearances in the same perspective. That is to say, they group + together particulars having the same "active" place, while psychology + groups together those having the same "passive" place. Some particulars, + such as images, have no "active" place, and therefore belong exclusively + to psychology. + </p> + <p> + We can now understand the distinction between physics and psychology. The + nerves and brain are matter: our visual sensations when we look at them + may be, and I think are, members of the system constituting irregular + appearances of this matter, but are not the whole of the system. + Psychology is concerned, inter alia, with our sensations when we see a + piece of matter, as opposed to the matter which we see. Assuming, as we + must, that our sensations have physical causes, their causal laws are + nevertheless radically different from the laws of physics, since the + consideration of a single sensation requires the breaking up of the group + of which it is a member. When a sensation is used to verify physics, it is + used merely as a sign of a certain material phenomenon, i.e. of a group of + particulars of which it is a member. But when it is studied by psychology, + it is taken away from that group and put into quite a different context, + where it causes images or voluntary movements. It is primarily this + different grouping that is characteristic of psychology as opposed to all + the physical sciences, including physiology; a secondary difference is + that images, which belong to psychology, are not easily to be included + among the aspects which constitute a physical thing or piece of matter. + </p> + <p> + There remains, however, an important question, namely: Are mental events + causally dependent upon physical events in a sense in which the converse + dependence does not hold? Before we can discuss the answer to this + question, we must first be clear as to what our question means. + </p> + <p> + When, given A, it is possible to infer B, but given B, it is not possible + to infer A, we say that B is dependent upon A in a sense in which A is not + dependent upon B. Stated in logical terms, this amounts to saying that, + when we know a many-one relation of A to B, B is dependent upon A in + respect of this relation. If the relation is a causal law, we say that B + is causally dependent upon A. The illustration that chiefly concerns us is + the system of appearances of a physical object. We can, broadly speaking, + infer distant appearances from near ones, but not vice versa. All men look + alike when they are a mile away, hence when we see a man a mile off we + cannot tell what he will look like when he is only a yard away. But when + we see him a yard away, we can tell what he will look like a mile away. + Thus the nearer view gives us more valuable information, and the distant + view is causally dependent upon it in a sense in which it is not causally + dependent upon the distant view. + </p> + <p> + It is this greater causal potency of the near appearance that leads + physics to state its causal laws in terms of that system of regular + appearances to which the nearest appearances increasingly approximate, and + that makes it value information derived from the microscope or telescope. + It is clear that our sensations, considered as irregular appearances of + physical objects, share the causal dependence belonging to comparatively + distant appearances; therefore in our sensational life we are in causal + dependence upon physical laws. + </p> + <p> + This, however, is not the most important or interesting part of our + question. It is the causation of images that is the vital problem. We have + seen that they are subject to mnenic causation, and that mnenic causation + may be reducible to ordinary physical causation in nervous tissue. This is + the question upon which our attitude must turn towards what may be called + materialism. One sense of materialism is the view that all mental + phenomena are causally dependent upon physical phenomena in the + above-defined sense of causal dependence. Whether this is the case or not, + I do not profess to know. The question seems to me the same as the + question whether mnemic causation is ultimate, which we considered without + deciding in Lecture IV. But I think the bulk of the evidence points to the + materialistic answer as the more probable. + </p> + <p> + In considering the causal laws of psychology, the distinction between + rough generalizations and exact laws is important. There are many rough + generalizations in psychology, not only of the sort by which we govern our + ordinary behaviour to each other, but also of a more nearly scientific + kind. Habit and association belong among such laws. I will give an + illustration of the kind of law that can be obtained. Suppose a person has + frequently experienced A and B in close temporal contiguity, an + association will be established, so that A, or an image of A, tends to + cause an image of B. The question arises: will the association work in + either direction, or only from the one which has occurred earlier to the + one which has occurred later? In an article by Mr. Wohlgemuth, called "The + Direction of Associations" ("British Journal of Psychology," vol. v, part + iv, March, 1913), it is claimed to be proved by experiment that, in so far + as motor memory (i.e. memory of movements) is concerned, association works + only from earlier to later, while in visual and auditory memory this is + not the case, but the later of two neighbouring experiences may recall the + earlier as well as the earlier the later. It is suggested that motor + memory is physiological, while visual and auditory memory are more truly + psychological. But that is not the point which concerns us in the + illustration. The point which concerns us is that a law of association, + established by purely psychological observation, is a purely psychological + law, and may serve as a sample of what is possible in the way of + discovering such laws. It is, however, still no more than a rough + generalization, a statistical average. It cannot tell us what will result + from a given cause on a given occasion. It is a law of tendency, not a + precise and invariable law such as those of physics aim at being. + </p> + <p> + If we wish to pass from the law of habit, stated as a tendency or average, + to something more precise and invariable, we seem driven to the nervous + system. We can more or less guess how an occurrence produces a change in + the brain, and how its repetition gradually produces something analogous + to the channel of a river, along which currents flow more easily than in + neighbouring paths. We can perceive that in this way, if we had more + knowledge, the tendency to habit through repetition might be replaced by a + precise account of the effect of each occurrence in bringing about a + modification of the sort from which habit would ultimately result. It is + such considerations that make students of psychophysiology materialistic + in their methods, whatever they may be in their metaphysics. There are, of + course, exceptions, such as Professor J. S. Haldane,* who maintains that + it is theoretically impossible to obtain physiological explanations of + psychical phenomena, or physical explanations of physiological phenomena. + But I think the bulk of expert opinion, in practice, is on the other side. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + *See his book, "The New Physiology and Other Addresses" + (Charles Griffin & Co., 1919). +</pre> + <p> + The question whether it is possible to obtain precise causal laws in which + the causes are psychological, not material, is one of detailed + investigation. I have done what I could to make clear the nature of the + question, but I do not believe that it is possible as yet to answer it + with any confidence. It seems to be by no means an insoluble question, and + we may hope that science will be able to produce sufficient grounds for + regarding one answer as much more probable than the other. But for the + moment I do not see how we can come to a decision. + </p> + <p> + I think, however, on grounds of the theory of matter explained in Lectures + V and VII, that an ultimate scientific account of what goes on in the + world, if it were ascertainable, would resemble psychology rather than + physics in what we found to be the decisive difference between them. I + think, that is to say, that such an account would not be content to speak, + even formally, as though matter, which is a logical fiction, were the + ultimate reality. I think that, if our scientific knowledge were adequate + to the task, which it neither is nor is likely to become, it would exhibit + the laws of correlation of the particulars constituting a momentary + condition of a material unit, and would state the causal laws* of the + world in terms of these particulars, not in terms of matter. Causal laws + so stated would, I believe, be applicable to psychology and physics + equally; the science in which they were stated would succeed in achieving + what metaphysics has vainly attempted, namely a unified account of what + really happens, wholly true even if not the whole of truth, and free from + all convenient fictions or unwarrantable assumptions of metaphysical + entities. A causal law applicable to particulars would count as a law of + physics if it could be stated in terms of those fictitious systems of + regular appearances which are matter; if this were not the case, it would + count as a law of psychology if one of the particulars were a sensation or + an image, i.e. were subject to mnemic causation. I believe that the + realization of the complexity of a material unit, and its analysis into + constituents analogous to sensations, is of the utmost importance to + philosophy, and vital for any understanding of the relations between mind + and matter, between our perceptions and the world which they perceive. It + is in this direction, I am convinced, that we must look for the solution + of many ancient perplexities. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * In a perfected science, causal laws will take the form of + differential equations—or of finite-difference equations, + if the theory of quanta should prove correct. +</pre> + <p> + It is probable that the whole science of mental occurrences, especially + where its initial definitions are concerned, could be simplified by the + development of the fundamental unifying science in which the causal laws + of particulars are sought, rather than the causal laws of those systems of + particulars that constitute the material units of physics. This + fundamental science would cause physics to become derivative, in the sort + of way in which theories of the constitution of the atom make chemistry + derivative from physics; it would also cause psychology to appear less + singular and isolated among sciences. If we are right in this, it is a + wrong philosophy of matter which has caused many of the difficulties in + the philosophy of mind—difficulties which a right philosophy of + matter would cause to disappear. + </p> + <p> + The conclusions at which we have arrived may be summed up as follows: + </p> + <p> + I. Physics and psychology are not distinguished by their material. Mind + and matter alike are logical constructions; the particulars out of which + they are constructed, or from which they are inferred, have various + relations, some of which are studied by physics, others by psychology. + Broadly speaking, physics group particulars by their active places, + psychology by their passive places. + </p> + <p> + II. The two most essential characteristics of the causal laws which would + naturally be called psychological are SUBJECTIVITY and MNEMIC CAUSATION; + these are not unconnected, since the causal unit in mnemic causation is + the group of particulars having a given passive place at a given time, and + it is by this manner of grouping that subjectivity is defined. + </p> + <p> + III. Habit, memory and thought are all developments of mnemic causation. + It is probable, though not certain, that mnemic causation is derivative + from ordinary physical causation in nervous (and other) tissue. + </p> + <p> + IV. Consciousness is a complex and far from universal characteristic of + mental phenomena. + </p> + <p> + V. Mind is a matter of degree, chiefly exemplified in number and + complexity of habits. + </p> + <p> + VI. All our data, both in physics and psychology, are subject to + psychological causal laws; but physical causal laws, at least in + traditional physics, can only be stated in terms of matter, which is both + inferred and constructed, never a datum. In this respect psychology is + nearer to what actually exists. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Analysis of Mind, by Bertrand Russell + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ANALYSIS OF MIND *** + +***** This file should be named 2529-h.htm or 2529-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/5/2/2529/ + +Produced by Dianne Bean, and David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +http://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at http://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit http://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + + +</pre> + </body> +</html> diff --git a/2529.txt b/2529.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..302cc12 --- /dev/null +++ b/2529.txt @@ -0,0 +1,8964 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Analysis of Mind, by Bertrand Russell + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Analysis of Mind + +Author: Bertrand Russell + +Commentator: H. D. Lewis + +Posting Date: December 6, 2008 [EBook #2529] +Release Date: February, 2001 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ANALYSIS OF MIND *** + + + + +Produced by Dianne Bean + + + + + +THE ANALYSIS OF MIND + +By Bertrand Russell + +1921 + + + + +MUIRHEAD LIBRARY OF PHILOSOPHY + + +An admirable statement of the aims of the Library of Philosophy was +provided by the first editor, the late Professor J. H. Muirhead, in his +description of the original programme printed in Erdmann's History of +Philosophy under the date 1890. This was slightly modified in subsequent +volumes to take the form of the following statement: + +"The Muirhead Library of Philosophy was designed as a contribution to +the History of Modern Philosophy under the heads: first of Different +Schools of Thought--Sensationalist, Realist, Idealist, Intuitivist; +secondly of different Subjects--Psychology, Ethics, Aesthetics, +Political Philosophy, Theology. While much had been done in England in +tracing the course of evolution in nature, history, economics, morals +and religion, little had been done in tracing the development of thought +on these subjects. Yet 'the evolution of opinion is part of the whole +evolution'. + +"By the co-operation of different writers in carrying out this plan it +was hoped that a thoroughness and completeness of treatment, otherwise +unattainable, might be secured. It was believed also that from writers +mainly British and American fuller consideration of English Philosophy +than it had hitherto received might be looked for. In the earlier series +of books containing, among others, Bosanquet's "History of Aesthetic," +Pfleiderer's "Rational Theology since Kant," Albee's "History of English +Utilitarianism," Bonar's "Philosophy and Political Economy," Brett's +"History of Psychology," Ritchie's "Natural Rights," these objects were +to a large extent effected. + +"In the meantime original work of a high order was being produced both +in England and America by such writers as Bradley, Stout, Bertrand +Russell, Baldwin, Urban, Montague, and others, and a new interest in +foreign works, German, French and Italian, which had either become +classical or were attracting public attention, had developed. The scope +of the Library thus became extended into something more international, +and it is entering on the fifth decade of its existence in the hope that +it may contribute to that mutual understanding between countries which +is so pressing a need of the present time." + +The need which Professor Muirhead stressed is no less pressing to-day, +and few will deny that philosophy has much to do with enabling us to +meet it, although no one, least of all Muirhead himself, would regard +that as the sole, or even the main, object of philosophy. As Professor +Muirhead continues to lend the distinction of his name to the Library +of Philosophy it seemed not inappropriate to allow him to recall us to +these aims in his own words. The emphasis on the history of thought also +seemed to me very timely; and the number of important works promised +for the Library in the very near future augur well for the continued +fulfilment, in this and other ways, of the expectations of the original +editor. + +H. D. Lewis + + + + +PREFACE + +This book has grown out of an attempt to harmonize two different +tendencies, one in psychology, the other in physics, with both of which +I find myself in sympathy, although at first sight they might seem +inconsistent. On the one hand, many psychologists, especially those +of the behaviourist school, tend to adopt what is essentially a +materialistic position, as a matter of method if not of metaphysics. +They make psychology increasingly dependent on physiology and external +observation, and tend to think of matter as something much more solid +and indubitable than mind. Meanwhile the physicists, especially Einstein +and other exponents of the theory of relativity, have been making +"matter" less and less material. Their world consists of "events," from +which "matter" is derived by a logical construction. Whoever reads, for +example, Professor Eddington's "Space, Time and Gravitation" (Cambridge +University Press, 1920), will see that an old-fashioned materialism can +receive no support from modern physics. I think that what has permanent +value in the outlook of the behaviourists is the feeling that physics is +the most fundamental science at present in existence. But this position +cannot be called materialistic, if, as seems to be the case, physics +does not assume the existence of matter. + +The view that seems to me to reconcile the materialistic tendency of +psychology with the anti-materialistic tendency of physics is the view +of William James and the American new realists, according to which the +"stuff" of the world is neither mental nor material, but a "neutral +stuff," out of which both are constructed. I have endeavoured in this +work to develop this view in some detail as regards the phenomena with +which psychology is concerned. + +My thanks are due to Professor John B. Watson and to Dr. T. P. Nunn +for reading my MSS. at an early stage and helping me with many valuable +suggestions; also to Mr. A. Wohlgemuth for much very useful information +as regards important literature. I have also to acknowledge the help +of the editor of this Library of Philosophy, Professor Muirhead, for +several suggestions by which I have profited. + +The work has been given in the form of lectures both in London and +Peking, and one lecture, that on Desire, has been published in the +Athenaeum. + +There are a few allusions to China in this book, all of which were +written before I had been in China, and are not intended to be taken by +the reader as geographically accurate. I have used "China" merely as +a synonym for "a distant country," when I wanted illustrations of +unfamiliar things. + +Peking, January 1921. + + + +CONTENTS + + I. Recent Criticisms of "Consciousness" + II. Instinct and Habit + III. Desire and Feeling + IV. Influence of Past History on Present Occurrences + in Living Organisms + V. Psychological and Physical Causal Laws + VI. Introspection + VII. The Definition of Perception + VIII.Sensations and Images + IX. Memory + X. Words and Meaning + XI. General Ideas and Thought + XII. Belief + XIII.Truth and Falsehood + XIV. Emotions and Will + XV. Characteristics of Mental Phenomena + + + + +THE ANALYSIS OF MIND + + + + +LECTURE I. RECENT CRITICISMS OF "CONSCIOUSNESS" + +There are certain occurrences which we are in the habit of calling +"mental." Among these we may take as typical BELIEVING and DESIRING. +The exact definition of the word "mental" will, I hope, emerge as +the lectures proceed; for the present, I shall mean by it whatever +occurrences would commonly be called mental. + +I wish in these lectures to analyse as fully as I can what it is that +really takes place when we, e.g. believe or desire. In this first +lecture I shall be concerned to refute a theory which is widely held, +and which I formerly held myself: the theory that the essence of +everything mental is a certain quite peculiar something called +"consciousness," conceived either as a relation to objects, or as a +pervading quality of psychical phenomena. + +The reasons which I shall give against this theory will be mainly +derived from previous authors. There are two sorts of reasons, which +will divide my lecture into two parts: + +(1) Direct reasons, derived from analysis and its difficulties; + +(2) Indirect reasons, derived from observation of animals (comparative +psychology) and of the insane and hysterical (psycho-analysis). + +Few things are more firmly established in popular philosophy than the +distinction between mind and matter. Those who are not professional +metaphysicians are willing to confess that they do not know what mind +actually is, or how matter is constituted; but they remain convinced +that there is an impassable gulf between the two, and that both belong +to what actually exists in the world. Philosophers, on the other hand, +have maintained often that matter is a mere fiction imagined by mind, +and sometimes that mind is a mere property of a certain kind of matter. +Those who maintain that mind is the reality and matter an evil dream are +called "idealists"--a word which has a different meaning in philosophy +from that which it bears in ordinary life. Those who argue that matter +is the reality and mind a mere property of protoplasm are called +"materialists." They have been rare among philosophers, but common, +at certain periods, among men of science. Idealists, materialists, and +ordinary mortals have been in agreement on one point: that they knew +sufficiently what they meant by the words "mind" and "matter" to be able +to conduct their debate intelligently. Yet it was just in this point, as +to which they were at one, that they seem to me to have been all alike +in error. + +The stuff of which the world of our experience is composed is, in my +belief, neither mind nor matter, but something more primitive than +either. Both mind and matter seem to be composite, and the stuff of +which they are compounded lies in a sense between the two, in a sense +above them both, like a common ancestor. As regards matter, I have set +forth my reasons for this view on former occasions,* and I shall not now +repeat them. But the question of mind is more difficult, and it is this +question that I propose to discuss in these lectures. A great deal of +what I shall have to say is not original; indeed, much recent work, in +various fields, has tended to show the necessity of such theories as +those which I shall be advocating. Accordingly in this first lecture +I shall try to give a brief description of the systems of ideas within +which our investigation is to be carried on. + + * "Our Knowledge of the External World" (Allen & Unwin), + Chapters III and IV. Also "Mysticism and Logic," Essays VII + and VIII. + +If there is one thing that may be said, in the popular estimation, to +characterize mind, that one thing is "consciousness." We say that we are +"conscious" of what we see and hear, of what we remember, and of our own +thoughts and feelings. Most of us believe that tables and chairs are +not "conscious." We think that when we sit in a chair, we are aware +of sitting in it, but it is not aware of being sat in. It cannot for +a moment be doubted that we are right in believing that there is SOME +difference between us and the chair in this respect: so much may be +taken as fact, and as a datum for our inquiry. But as soon as we try to +say what exactly the difference is, we become involved in perplexities. +Is "consciousness" ultimate and simple, something to be merely accepted +and contemplated? Or is it something complex, perhaps consisting in our +way of behaving in the presence of objects, or, alternatively, in the +existence in us of things called "ideas," having a certain relation +to objects, though different from them, and only symbolically +representative of them? Such questions are not easy to answer; but until +they are answered we cannot profess to know what we mean by saying that +we are possessed of "consciousness." + +Before considering modern theories, let us look first at consciousness +from the standpoint of conventional psychology, since this embodies +views which naturally occur when we begin to reflect upon the subject. +For this purpose, let us as a preliminary consider different ways of +being conscious. + +First, there is the way of PERCEPTION. We "perceive" tables and chairs, +horses and dogs, our friends, traffic passing in the street--in short, +anything which we recognize through the senses. I leave on one side for +the present the question whether pure sensation is to be regarded as a +form of consciousness: what I am speaking of now is perception, where, +according to conventional psychology, we go beyond the sensation to the +"thing" which it represents. When you hear a donkey bray, you not only +hear a noise, but realize that it comes from a donkey. When you see a +table, you not only see a coloured surface, but realize that it is hard. +The addition of these elements that go beyond crude sensation is said to +constitute perception. We shall have more to say about this at a later +stage. For the moment, I am merely concerned to note that perception +of objects is one of the most obvious examples of what is called +"consciousness." We are "conscious" of anything that we perceive. + +We may take next the way of MEMORY. If I set to work to recall what +I did this morning, that is a form of consciousness different from +perception, since it is concerned with the past. There are various +problems as to how we can be conscious now of what no longer exists. +These will be dealt with incidentally when we come to the analysis of +memory. + +From memory it is an easy step to what are called "ideas"--not in the +Platonic sense, but in that of Locke, Berkeley and Hume, in which they +are opposed to "impressions." You may be conscious of a friend either +by seeing him or by "thinking" of him; and by "thought" you can be +conscious of objects which cannot be seen, such as the human race, +or physiology. "Thought" in the narrower sense is that form of +consciousness which consists in "ideas" as opposed to impressions or +mere memories. + +We may end our preliminary catalogue with BELIEF, by which I mean that +way of being conscious which may be either true or false. We say that a +man is "conscious of looking a fool," by which we mean that he believes +he looks a fool, and is not mistaken in this belief. This is a different +form of consciousness from any of the earlier ones. It is the form which +gives "knowledge" in the strict sense, and also error. It is, at least +apparently, more complex than our previous forms of consciousness; +though we shall find that they are not so separable from it as they +might appear to be. + +Besides ways of being conscious there are other things that would +ordinarily be called "mental," such as desire and pleasure and pain. +These raise problems of their own, which we shall reach in Lecture III. +But the hardest problems are those that arise concerning ways of being +"conscious." These ways, taken together, are called the "cognitive" +elements in mind, and it is these that will occupy us most during the +following lectures. + +There is one element which SEEMS obviously in common among the different +ways of being conscious, and that is, that they are all directed to +OBJECTS. We are conscious "of" something. The consciousness, it seems, +is one thing, and that of which we are conscious is another thing. +Unless we are to acquiesce in the view that we can never be conscious +of anything outside our own minds, we must say that the object of +consciousness need not be mental, though the consciousness must be. (I +am speaking within the circle of conventional doctrines, not expressing +my own beliefs.) This direction towards an object is commonly regarded +as typical of every form of cognition, and sometimes of mental life +altogether. We may distinguish two different tendencies in traditional +psychology. There are those who take mental phenomena naively, just as +they would physical phenomena. This school of psychologists tends not to +emphasize the object. On the other hand, there are those whose primary +interest is in the apparent fact that we have KNOWLEDGE, that there is a +world surrounding us of which we are aware. These men are interested in +the mind because of its relation to the world, because knowledge, if +it is a fact, is a very mysterious one. Their interest in psychology +is naturally centred in the relation of consciousness to its object, a +problem which, properly, belongs rather to theory of knowledge. We may +take as one of the best and most typical representatives of this school +the Austrian psychologist Brentano, whose "Psychology from the Empirical +Standpoint,"* though published in 1874, is still influential and was the +starting-point of a great deal of interesting work. He says (p. 115): + + * "Psychologie vom empirischen Standpunkte," vol. i, 1874. + (The second volume was never published.) + +"Every psychical phenomenon is characterized by what the scholastics of +the Middle Ages called the intentional (also the mental) inexistence of +an object, and what we, although with not quite unambiguous expressions, +would call relation to a content, direction towards an object (which is +not here to be understood as a reality), or immanent objectivity. Each +contains something in itself as an object, though not each in the same +way. In presentation something is presented, in judgment something is +acknowledged or rejected, in love something is loved, in hatred hated, +in desire desired, and so on. + +"This intentional inexistence is exclusively peculiar to psychical +phenomena. No physical phenomenon shows anything similar. And so we +can define psychical phenomena by saying that they are phenomena which +intentionally contain an object in themselves." + +The view here expressed, that relation to an object is an ultimate +irreducible characteristic of mental phenomena, is one which I shall be +concerned to combat. Like Brentano, I am interested in psychology, not +so much for its own sake, as for the light that it may throw on the +problem of knowledge. Until very lately I believed, as he did, that +mental phenomena have essential reference to objects, except possibly in +the case of pleasure and pain. Now I no longer believe this, even in +the case of knowledge. I shall try to make my reasons for this rejection +clear as we proceed. It must be evident at first glance that the +analysis of knowledge is rendered more difficult by the rejection; but +the apparent simplicity of Brentano's view of knowledge will be found, +if I am not mistaken, incapable of maintaining itself either against +an analytic scrutiny or against a host of facts in psycho-analysis and +animal psychology. I do not wish to minimize the problems. I will +merely observe, in mitigation of our prospective labours, that thinking, +however it is to be analysed, is in itself a delightful occupation, +and that there is no enemy to thinking so deadly as a false simplicity. +Travelling, whether in the mental or the physical world, is a joy, and +it is good to know that, in the mental world at least, there are vast +countries still very imperfectly explored. + +The view expressed by Brentano has been held very generally, and +developed by many writers. Among these we may take as an example his +Austrian successor Meinong.* According to him there are three elements +involved in the thought of an object. These three he calls the act, the +content and the object. The act is the same in any two cases of the same +kind of consciousness; for instance, if I think of Smith or think +of Brown, the act of thinking, in itself, is exactly similar on both +occasions. But the content of my thought, the particular event that +is happening in my mind, is different when I think of Smith and when I +think of Brown. The content, Meinong argues, must not be confounded with +the object, since the content must exist in my mind at the moment when +I have the thought, whereas the object need not do so. The object may +be something past or future; it may be physical, not mental; it may +be something abstract, like equality for example; it may be something +imaginary, like a golden mountain; or it may even be something +self-contradictory, like a round square. But in all these cases, so +he contends, the content exists when the thought exists, and is what +distinguishes it, as an occurrence, from other thoughts. + + * See, e.g. his article: "Ueber Gegenstande hoherer Ordnung + und deren Verhaltniss zur inneren Wahrnehmung," "Zeitschrift + fur Psychologie and Physiologie der Sinnesorgane," vol. xxi, + pp. 182-272 (1899), especially pp. 185-8. + +To make this theory concrete, let us suppose that you are thinking of +St. Paul's. Then, according to Meinong, we have to distinguish three +elements which are necessarily combined in constituting the one thought. +First, there is the act of thinking, which would be just the same +whatever you were thinking about. Then there is what makes the character +of the thought as contrasted with other thoughts; this is the content. +And finally there is St. Paul's, which is the object of your thought. +There must be a difference between the content of a thought and what it +is about, since the thought is here and now, whereas what it is about +may not be; hence it is clear that the thought is not identical with St. +Paul's. This seems to show that we must distinguish between content +and object. But if Meinong is right, there can be no thought without an +object: the connection of the two is essential. The object might exist +without the thought, but not the thought without the object: the three +elements of act, content and object are all required to constitute the +one single occurrence called "thinking of St. Paul's." + +The above analysis of a thought, though I believe it to be mistaken, is +very useful as affording a schema in terms of which other theories can +be stated. In the remainder of the present lecture I shall state in +outline the view which I advocate, and show how various other views +out of which mine has grown result from modifications of the threefold +analysis into act, content and object. + +The first criticism I have to make is that the ACT seems unnecessary and +fictitious. The occurrence of the content of a thought constitutes +the occurrence of the thought. Empirically, I cannot discover anything +corresponding to the supposed act; and theoretically I cannot see that +it is indispensable. We say: "_I_ think so-and-so," and this word "I" +suggests that thinking is the act of a person. Meinong's "act" is the +ghost of the subject, or what once was the full-blooded soul. It is +supposed that thoughts cannot just come and go, but need a person to +think them. Now, of course it is true that thoughts can be collected +into bundles, so that one bundle is my thoughts, another is your +thoughts, and a third is the thoughts of Mr. Jones. But I think +the person is not an ingredient in the single thought: he is rather +constituted by relations of the thoughts to each other and to the body. +This is a large question, which need not, in its entirety, concern us +at present. All that I am concerned with for the moment is that the +grammatical forms "I think," "you think," and "Mr. Jones thinks," are +misleading if regarded as indicating an analysis of a single thought. +It would be better to say "it thinks in me," like "it rains here"; or +better still, "there is a thought in me." This is simply on the +ground that what Meinong calls the act in thinking is not empirically +discoverable, or logically deducible from what we can observe. + +The next point of criticism concerns the relation of content and object. +The reference of thoughts to objects is not, I believe, the simple +direct essential thing that Brentano and Meinong represent it as being. +It seems to me to be derivative, and to consist largely in BELIEFS: +beliefs that what constitutes the thought is connected with various +other elements which together make up the object. You have, say, an +image of St. Paul's, or merely the word "St. Paul's" in your head. You +believe, however vaguely and dimly, that this is connected with what +you would see if you went to St. Paul's, or what you would feel if you +touched its walls; it is further connected with what other people see +and feel, with services and the Dean and Chapter and Sir Christopher +Wren. These things are not mere thoughts of yours, but your thought +stands in a relation to them of which you are more or less aware. The +awareness of this relation is a further thought, and constitutes +your feeling that the original thought had an "object." But in pure +imagination you can get very similar thoughts without these accompanying +beliefs; and in this case your thoughts do not have objects or seem to +have them. Thus in such instances you have content without object. On +the other hand, in seeing or hearing it would be less misleading to +say that you have object without content, since what you see or hear is +actually part of the physical world, though not matter in the sense of +physics. Thus the whole question of the relation of mental occurrences +to objects grows very complicated, and cannot be settled by regarding +reference to objects as of the essence of thoughts. All the above +remarks are merely preliminary, and will be expanded later. + +Speaking in popular and unphilosophical terms, we may say that the +content of a thought is supposed to be something in your head when you +think the thought, while the object is usually something in the outer +world. It is held that knowledge of the outer world is constituted by +the relation to the object, while the fact that knowledge is different +from what it knows is due to the fact that knowledge comes by way of +contents. We can begin to state the difference between realism and +idealism in terms of this opposition of contents and objects. Speaking +quite roughly and approximately, we may say that idealism tends to +suppress the object, while realism tends to suppress the content. +Idealism, accordingly, says that nothing can be known except thoughts, +and all the reality that we know is mental; while realism maintains that +we know objects directly, in sensation certainly, and perhaps also in +memory and thought. Idealism does not say that nothing can be known +beyond the present thought, but it maintains that the context of vague +belief, which we spoke of in connection with the thought of St. Paul's, +only takes you to other thoughts, never to anything radically different +from thoughts. The difficulty of this view is in regard to sensation, +where it seems as if we came into direct contact with the outer world. +But the Berkeleian way of meeting this difficulty is so familiar that I +need not enlarge upon it now. I shall return to it in a later lecture, +and will only observe, for the present, that there seem to me no valid +grounds for regarding what we see and hear as not part of the physical +world. + +Realists, on the other hand, as a rule, suppress the content, and +maintain that a thought consists either of act and object alone, or of +object alone. I have been in the past a realist, and I remain a realist +as regards sensation, but not as regards memory or thought. I will try +to explain what seem to me to be the reasons for and against various +kinds of realism. + +Modern idealism professes to be by no means confined to the present +thought or the present thinker in regard to its knowledge; indeed, it +contends that the world is so organic, so dove-tailed, that from any +one portion the whole can be inferred, as the complete skeleton of an +extinct animal can be inferred from one bone. But the logic by which +this supposed organic nature of the world is nominally demonstrated +appears to realists, as it does to me, to be faulty. They argue that, +if we cannot know the physical world directly, we cannot really know +any thing outside our own minds: the rest of the world may be merely our +dream. This is a dreary view, and they there fore seek ways of escaping +from it. Accordingly they maintain that in knowledge we are in direct +contact with objects, which may be, and usually are, outside our own +minds. No doubt they are prompted to this view, in the first place, by +bias, namely, by the desire to think that they can know of the existence +of a world outside themselves. But we have to consider, not what led +them to desire the view, but whether their arguments for it are valid. + +There are two different kinds of realism, according as we make a thought +consist of act and object, or of object alone. Their difficulties are +different, but neither seems tenable all through. Take, for the sake of +definiteness, the remembering of a past event. The remembering occurs +now, and is therefore necessarily not identical with the past event. +So long as we retain the act, this need cause no difficulty. The act +of remembering occurs now, and has on this view a certain essential +relation to the past event which it remembers. There is no LOGICAL +objection to this theory, but there is the objection, which we spoke +of earlier, that the act seems mythical, and is not to be found by +observation. If, on the other hand, we try to constitute memory without +the act, we are driven to a content, since we must have something that +happens NOW, as opposed to the event which happened in the past. Thus, +when we reject the act, which I think we must, we are driven to a theory +of memory which is more akin to idealism. These arguments, however, do +not apply to sensation. It is especially sensation, I think, which is +considered by those realists who retain only the object.* Their views, +which are chiefly held in America, are in large measure derived from +William James, and before going further it will be well to consider +the revolutionary doctrine which he advocated. I believe this doctrine +contains important new truth, and what I shall have to say will be in a +considerable measure inspired by it. + + * This is explicitly the case with Mach's "Analysis of + Sensations," a book of fundamental importance in the present + connection. (Translation of fifth German edition, Open Court + Co., 1914. First German edition, 1886.) + + +William James's view was first set forth in an essay called "Does +'consciousness' exist?"* In this essay he explains how what used to be +the soul has gradually been refined down to the "transcendental ego," +which, he says, "attenuates itself to a thoroughly ghostly condition, +being only a name for the fact that the 'content' of experience IS +KNOWN. It loses personal form and activity--these passing over to the +content--and becomes a bare Bewusstheit or Bewusstsein uberhaupt, of +which in its own right absolutely nothing can be said. I believe (he +continues) that 'consciousness,' when once it has evaporated to this +estate of pure diaphaneity, is on the point of disappearing altogether. +It is the name of a nonentity, and has no right to a place among first +principles. Those who still cling to it are clinging to a mere echo, +the faint rumour left behind by the disappearing 'soul' upon the air of +philosophy"(p. 2). + + * "Journal of Philosophy, Psychology and Scientific + Methods," vol. i, 1904. Reprinted in "Essays in Radical + Empiricism" (Longmans, Green & Co., 1912), pp. 1-38, to + which references in what follows refer. + + +He explains that this is no sudden change in his opinions. "For twenty +years past," he says, "I have mistrusted 'consciousness' as an entity; +for seven or eight years past I have suggested its non-existence to my +students, and tried to give them its pragmatic equivalent in realities +of experience. It seems to me that the hour is ripe for it to be openly +and universally discarded"(p. 3). + +His next concern is to explain away the air of paradox, for James +was never wilfully paradoxical. "Undeniably," he says, "'thoughts' do +exist." "I mean only to deny that the word stands for an entity, but to +insist most emphatically that it does stand for a function. There is, I +mean, no aboriginal stuff or quality of being, contrasted with that of +which material objects are made, out of which our thoughts of them are +made; but there is a function in experience which thoughts perform, +and for the performance of which this quality of being is invoked. That +function is KNOWING"(pp. 3-4). + +James's view is that the raw material out of which the world is built +up is not of two sorts, one matter and the other mind, but that it is +arranged in different patterns by its inter-relations, and that some +arrangements may be called mental, while others may be called physical. + +"My thesis is," he says, "that if we start with the supposition that +there is only one primal stuff or material in the world, a stuff +of which everything is composed, and if we call that stuff 'pure +experience,' then knowing can easily be explained as a particular sort +of relation towards one another into which portions of pure experience +may enter. The relation itself is a part of pure experience; one of its +'terms' becomes the subject or bearer of the knowledge, the knower, the +other becomes the object known"(p. 4). + +After mentioning the duality of subject and object, which is supposed +to constitute consciousness, he proceeds in italics: "EXPERIENCE, I +BELIEVE, HAS NO SUCH INNER DUPLICITY; AND THE SEPARATION OF IT INTO +CONSCIOUSNESS AND CONTENT COMES, NOT BY WAY OF SUBTRACTION, BUT BY WAY +OF ADDITION"(p. 9). + +He illustrates his meaning by the analogy of paint as it appears in a +paint-shop and as it appears in a picture: in the one case it is just +"saleable matter," while in the other it "performs a spiritual function. +Just so, I maintain (he continues), does a given undivided portion +of experience, taken in one context of associates, play the part of a +knower, of a state of mind, of 'consciousness'; while in a different +context the same undivided bit of experience plays the part of a thing +known, of an objective 'content.' In a word, in one group it figures as +a thought, in another group as a thing"(pp. 9-10). + +He does not believe in the supposed immediate certainty of thought. "Let +the case be what it may in others," he says, "I am as confident as I am +of anything that, in myself, the stream of thinking (which I recognize +emphatically as a phenomenon) is only a careless name for what, when +scrutinized, reveals itself to consist chiefly of the stream of my +breathing. The 'I think' which Kant said must be able to accompany all +my objects, is the 'I breathe' which actually does accompany them"(pp. +36-37). + +The same view of "consciousness" is set forth in the succeeding essay, +"A World of Pure Experience" (ib., pp. 39-91). The use of the phrase +"pure experience" in both essays points to a lingering influence of +idealism. "Experience," like "consciousness," must be a product, not +part of the primary stuff of the world. It must be possible, if James is +right in his main contentions, that roughly the same stuff, differently +arranged, would not give rise to anything that could be called +"experience." This word has been dropped by the American realists, among +whom we may mention specially Professor R. B. Perry of Harvard and Mr. +Edwin B. Holt. The interests of this school are in general philosophy +and the philosophy of the sciences, rather than in psychology; they have +derived a strong impulsion from James, but have more interest than he +had in logic and mathematics and the abstract part of philosophy. They +speak of "neutral" entities as the stuff out of which both mind and +matter are constructed. Thus Holt says: "If the terms and propositions +of logic must be substantialized, they are all strictly of one +substance, for which perhaps the least dangerous name is neutral-stuff. +The relation of neutral-stuff to matter and mind we shall have presently +to consider at considerable length." * + + * "The Concept of Consciousness" (Geo. Allen & Co., 1914), + p. 52. + +My own belief--for which the reasons will appear in subsequent +lectures--is that James is right in rejecting consciousness as an +entity, and that the American realists are partly right, though not +wholly, in considering that both mind and matter are composed of a +neutral-stuff which, in isolation, is neither mental nor material. I +should admit this view as regards sensations: what is heard or seen +belongs equally to psychology and to physics. But I should say that +images belong only to the mental world, while those occurrences (if any) +which do not form part of any "experience" belong only to the physical +world. There are, it seems to me, prima facie different kinds of causal +laws, one belonging to physics and the other to psychology. The law +of gravitation, for example, is a physical law, while the law of +association is a psychological law. Sensations are subject to both kinds +of laws, and are therefore truly "neutral" in Holt's sense. But entities +subject only to physical laws, or only to psychological laws, are not +neutral, and may be called respectively purely material and purely +mental. Even those, however, which are purely mental will not have that +intrinsic reference to objects which Brentano assigns to them and which +constitutes the essence of "consciousness" as ordinarily understood. But +it is now time to pass on to other modern tendencies, also hostile to +"consciousness." + +There is a psychological school called "Behaviourists," of whom the +protagonist is Professor John B. Watson,* formerly of the Johns Hopkins +University. To them also, on the whole, belongs Professor John Dewey, +who, with James and Dr. Schiller, was one of the three founders of +pragmatism. The view of the "behaviourists" is that nothing can be known +except by external observation. They deny altogether that there is a +separate source of knowledge called "introspection," by which we can +know things about ourselves which we could never observe in others. +They do not by any means deny that all sorts of things MAY go on in +our minds: they only say that such things, if they occur, are not +susceptible of scientific observation, and do not therefore concern +psychology as a science. Psychology as a science, they say, is only +concerned with BEHAVIOUR, i.e. with what we DO; this alone, they +contend, can be accurately observed. Whether we think meanwhile, they +tell us, cannot be known; in their observation of the behaviour of human +beings, they have not so far found any evidence of thought. True, we +talk a great deal, and imagine that in so doing we are showing that we +can think; but behaviourists say that the talk they have to listen to +can be explained without supposing that people think. Where you might +expect a chapter on "thought processes" you come instead upon a chapter +on "The Language Habit." It is humiliating to find how terribly adequate +this hypothesis turns out to be. + + * See especially his "Behavior: an Introduction to + Comparative Psychology," New York, 1914. + +Behaviourism has not, however, sprung from observing the folly of men. +It is the wisdom of animals that has suggested the view. It has always +been a common topic of popular discussion whether animals "think." On +this topic people are prepared to take sides without having the vaguest +idea what they mean by "thinking." Those who desired to investigate such +questions were led to observe the behaviour of animals, in the hope that +their behaviour would throw some light on their mental faculties. +At first sight, it might seem that this is so. People say that a +dog "knows" its name because it comes when it is called, and that it +"remembers" its master, because it looks sad in his absence, but wags +its tail and barks when he returns. That the dog behaves in this way is +matter of observation, but that it "knows" or "remembers" anything is an +inference, and in fact a very doubtful one. The more such inferences are +examined, the more precarious they are seen to be. Hence the study of +animal behaviour has been gradually led to abandon all attempt at mental +interpretation. And it can hardly be doubted that, in many cases of +complicated behaviour very well adapted to its ends, there can be no +prevision of those ends. The first time a bird builds a nest, we can +hardly suppose it knows that there will be eggs to be laid in it, or +that it will sit on the eggs, or that they will hatch into young birds. +It does what it does at each stage because instinct gives it an impulse +to do just that, not because it foresees and desires the result of its +actions.* + + * An interesting discussion of the question whether + instinctive actions, when first performed, involve any + prevision, however vague, will be found in Lloyd Morgan's + "Instinct and Experience" (Methuen, 1912), chap. ii. + +Careful observers of animals, being anxious to avoid precarious +inferences, have gradually discovered more and more how to give +an account of the actions of animals without assuming what we call +"consciousness." It has seemed to the behaviourists that similar methods +can be applied to human behaviour, without assuming anything not open +to external observation. Let us give a crude illustration, too crude for +the authors in question, but capable of affording a rough insight into +their meaning. Suppose two children in a school, both of whom are asked +"What is six times nine?" One says fifty-four, the other says fifty-six. +The one, we say, "knows" what six times nine is, the other does not. But +all that we can observe is a certain language-habit. The one child has +acquired the habit of saying "six times nine is fifty-four"; the other +has not. There is no more need of "thought" in this than there is when +a horse turns into his accustomed stable; there are merely more numerous +and complicated habits. There is obviously an observable fact called +"knowing" such-and-such a thing; examinations are experiments for +discovering such facts. But all that is observed or discovered is a +certain set of habits in the use of words. The thoughts (if any) in the +mind of the examinee are of no interest to the examiner; nor has the +examiner any reason to suppose even the most successful examinee capable +of even the smallest amount of thought. + +Thus what is called "knowing," in the sense in which we can ascertain +what other people "know," is a phenomenon exemplified in their physical +behaviour, including spoken and written words. There is no reason--so +Watson argues--to suppose that their knowledge IS anything beyond the +habits shown in this behaviour: the inference that other people +have something nonphysical called "mind" or "thought" is therefore +unwarranted. + +So far, there is nothing particularly repugnant to our prejudices in the +conclusions of the behaviourists. We are all willing to admit that +other people are thoughtless. But when it comes to ourselves, we feel +convinced that we can actually perceive our own thinking. "Cogito, ergo +sum" would be regarded by most people as having a true premiss. This, +however, the behaviourist denies. He maintains that our knowledge of +ourselves is no different in kind from our knowledge of other people. +We may see MORE, because our own body is easier to observe than that of +other people; but we do not see anything radically unlike what we see +of others. Introspection, as a separate source of knowledge, is entirely +denied by psychologists of this school. I shall discuss this question at +length in a later lecture; for the present I will only observe that +it is by no means simple, and that, though I believe the behaviourists +somewhat overstate their case, yet there is an important element of +truth in their contention, since the things which we can discover by +introspection do not seem to differ in any very fundamental way from the +things which we discover by external observation. + +So far, we have been principally concerned with knowing. But it might +well be maintained that desiring is what is really most characteristic +of mind. Human beings are constantly engaged in achieving some end +they feel pleasure in success and pain in failure. In a purely material +world, it may be said, there would be no opposition of pleasant and +unpleasant, good and bad, what is desired and what is feared. A man's +acts are governed by purposes. He decides, let us suppose, to go to a +certain place, whereupon he proceeds to the station, takes his ticket +and enters the train. If the usual route is blocked by an accident, +he goes by some other route. All that he does is determined--or so it +seems--by the end he has in view, by what lies in front of him, rather +than by what lies behind. With dead matter, this is not the case. +A stone at the top of a hill may start rolling, but it shows no +pertinacity in trying to get to the bottom. Any ledge or obstacle will +stop it, and it will exhibit no signs of discontent if this happens. It +is not attracted by the pleasantness of the valley, as a sheep or cow +might be, but propelled by the steepness of the hill at the place +where it is. In all this we have characteristic differences between the +behaviour of animals and the behaviour of matter as studied by physics. + +Desire, like knowledge, is, of course, in one sense an observable +phenomenon. An elephant will eat a bun, but not a mutton chop; a duck +will go into the water, but a hen will not. But when we think of our +own desires, most people believe that we can know them by an immediate +self-knowledge which does not depend upon observation of our actions. +Yet if this were the case, it would be odd that people are so often +mistaken as to what they desire. It is matter of common observation that +"so-and-so does not know his own motives," or that "A is envious of B +and malicious about him, but quite unconscious of being so." Such people +are called self-deceivers, and are supposed to have had to go through +some more or less elaborate process of concealing from themselves what +would otherwise have been obvious. I believe that this is an entire +mistake. I believe that the discovery of our own motives can only be +made by the same process by which we discover other people's, namely, +the process of observing our actions and inferring the desire which +could prompt them. A desire is "conscious" when we have told ourselves +that we have it. A hungry man may say to himself: "Oh, I do want my +lunch." Then his desire is "conscious." But it only differs from an +"unconscious" desire by the presence of appropriate words, which is by +no means a fundamental difference. + +The belief that a motive is normally conscious makes it easier to be +mistaken as to our own motives than as to other people's. When some +desire that we should be ashamed of is attributed to us, we notice that +we have never had it consciously, in the sense of saying to ourselves, +"I wish that would happen." We therefore look for some other +interpretation of our actions, and regard our friends as very unjust +when they refuse to be convinced by our repudiation of what we hold to +be a calumny. Moral considerations greatly increase the difficulty of +clear thinking in this matter. It is commonly argued that people are not +to blame for unconscious motives, but only for conscious ones. In order, +therefore, to be wholly virtuous it is only necessary to repeat virtuous +formulas. We say: "I desire to be kind to my friends, honourable in +business, philanthropic towards the poor, public-spirited in politics." +So long as we refuse to allow ourselves, even in the watches of the +night, to avow any contrary desires, we may be bullies at home, shady in +the City, skinflints in paying wages and profiteers in dealing with the +public; yet, if only conscious motives are to count in moral valuation, +we shall remain model characters. This is an agreeable doctrine, and +it is not surprising that men are un willing to abandon it. But moral +considerations are the worst enemies of the scientific spirit and we +must dismiss them from our minds if we wish to arrive at truth. + +I believe--as I shall try to prove in a later lecture--that desire, +like force in mechanics, is of the nature of a convenient fiction +for describing shortly certain laws of behaviour. A hungry animal is +restless until it finds food; then it becomes quiescent. The thing which +will bring a restless condition to an end is said to be what is desired. +But only experience can show what will have this sedative effect, and it +is easy to make mistakes. We feel dissatisfaction, and think that +such and-such a thing would remove it; but in thinking this, we are +theorizing, not observing a patent fact. Our theorizing is often +mistaken, and when it is mistaken there is a difference between what we +think we desire and what in fact will bring satisfaction. This is such +a common phenomenon that any theory of desire which fails to account for +it must be wrong. + +What have been called "unconscious" desires have been brought very much +to the fore in recent years by psycho-analysis. Psycho-analysis, as +every one knows, is primarily a method of understanding hysteria and +certain forms of insanity*; but it has been found that there is much +in the lives of ordinary men and women which bears a humiliating +resemblance to the delusions of the insane. The connection of dreams, +irrational beliefs and foolish actions with unconscious wishes has been +brought to light, though with some exaggeration, by Freud and Jung and +their followers. As regards the nature of these unconscious wishes, +it seems to me--though as a layman I speak with diffidence--that many +psycho-analysts are unduly narrow; no doubt the wishes they emphasize +exist, but others, e.g. for honour and power, are equally operative and +equally liable to concealment. This, however, does not affect the +value of their general theories from the point of view of theoretic +psychology, and it is from this point of view that their results are +important for the analysis of mind. + + * There is a wide field of "unconscious" phenomena which + does not depend upon psycho-analytic theories. Such + occurrences as automatic writing lead Dr. Morton Prince to + say: "As I view this question of the subconscious, far too + much weight is given to the point of awareness or not + awareness of our conscious processes. As a matter of fact, + we find entirely identical phenomena, that is, identical in + every respect but one-that of awareness in which sometimes + we are aware of these conscious phenomena and sometimes + not"(p. 87 of "Subconscious Phenomena," by various authors, + Rebman). Dr. Morton Price conceives that there may be + "consciousness" without "awareness." But this is a difficult + view, and one which makes some definition of "consciousness" + imperative. For nay part, I cannot see how to separate + consciousness from awareness. + +What, I think, is clearly established, is that a man's actions and +beliefs may be wholly dominated by a desire of which he is quite +unconscious, and which he indignantly repudiates when it is suggested +to him. Such a desire is generally, in morbid cases, of a sort which +the patient would consider wicked; if he had to admit that he had the +desire, he would loathe himself. Yet it is so strong that it must force +an outlet for itself; hence it becomes necessary to entertain whole +systems of false beliefs in order to hide the nature of what is desired. +The resulting delusions in very many cases disappear if the hysteric or +lunatic can be made to face the facts about himself. The consequence +of this is that the treatment of many forms of insanity has grown more +psychological and less physiological than it used to be. Instead of +looking for a physical defect in the brain, those who treat delusions +look for the repressed desire which has found this contorted mode +of expression. For those who do not wish to plunge into the somewhat +repulsive and often rather wild theories of psychoanalytic pioneers, it +will be worth while to read a little book by Dr. Bernard Hart on "The +Psychology of Insanity."* On this question of the mental as opposed to +the physiological study of the causes of insanity, Dr. Hart says: + + * Cambridge, 1912; 2nd edition, 1914. The following + references are to the second edition. + +"The psychological conception [of insanity] is based on the view that +mental processes can be directly studied without any reference to the +accompanying changes which are presumed to take place in the brain, and +that insanity may therefore be properly attacked from the standpoint of +psychology"(p. 9). + +This illustrates a point which I am anxious to make clear from the +outset. Any attempt to classify modern views, such as I propose to +advocate, from the old standpoint of materialism and idealism, is only +misleading. In certain respects, the views which I shall be setting +forth approximate to materialism; in certain others, they approximate to +its opposite. On this question of the study of delusions, the practical +effect of the modern theories, as Dr. Hart points out, is emancipation +from the materialist method. On the other hand, as he also points +out (pp. 38-9), imbecility and dementia still have to be considered +physiologically, as caused by defects in the brain. There is no +inconsistency in this If, as we maintain, mind and matter are neither of +them the actual stuff of reality, but different convenient groupings of +an underlying material, then, clearly, the question whether, in regard +to a given phenomenon, we are to seek a physical or a mental cause, is +merely one to be decided by trial. Metaphysicians have argued endlessly +as to the interaction of mind and matter. The followers of Descartes +held that mind and matter are so different as to make any action of the +one on the other impossible. When I will to move my arm, they said, +it is not my will that operates on my arm, but God, who, by His +omnipotence, moves my arm whenever I want it moved. The modern doctrine +of psychophysical parallelism is not appreciably different from this +theory of the Cartesian school. Psycho-physical parallelism is the +theory that mental and physical events each have causes in their own +sphere, but run on side by side owing to the fact that every state of +the brain coexists with a definite state of the mind, and vice versa. +This view of the reciprocal causal independence of mind and matter has +no basis except in metaphysical theory.* For us, there is no necessity +to make any such assumption, which is very difficult to harmonize with +obvious facts. I receive a letter inviting me to dinner: the letter is +a physical fact, but my apprehension of its meaning is mental. Here we +have an effect of matter on mind. In consequence of my apprehension of +the meaning of the letter, I go to the right place at the right time; +here we have an effect of mind on matter. I shall try to persuade you, +in the course of these lectures, that matter is not so material and mind +not so mental as is generally supposed. When we are speaking of matter, +it will seem as if we were inclining to idealism; when we are speaking +of mind, it will seem as if we were inclining to materialism. Neither +is the truth. Our world is to be constructed out of what the American +realists call "neutral" entities, which have neither the hardness and +indestructibility of matter, nor the reference to objects which is +supposed to characterize mind. + + * It would seem, however, that Dr. Hart accepts this theory + as 8 methodological precept. See his contribution to + "Subconscious Phenomena" (quoted above), especially pp. 121-2. + +There is, it is true, one objection which might be felt, not indeed to +the action of matter on mind, but to the action of mind on matter. The +laws of physics, it may be urged, are apparently adequate to explain +everything that happens to matter, even when it is matter in a man's +brain. This, however, is only a hypothesis, not an established theory. +There is no cogent empirical reason for supposing that the laws +determining the motions of living bodies are exactly the same as those +that apply to dead matter. Sometimes, of course, they are clearly the +same. When a man falls from a precipice or slips on a piece of orange +peel, his body behaves as if it were devoid of life. These are the +occasions that make Bergson laugh. But when a man's bodily movements +are what we call "voluntary," they are, at any rate prima facie, very +different in their laws from the movements of what is devoid of life. +I do not wish to say dogmatically that the difference is irreducible; +I think it highly probable that it is not. I say only that the study of +the behaviour of living bodies, in the present state of our knowledge, +is distinct from physics. The study of gases was originally quite +distinct from that of rigid bodies, and would never have advanced to its +present state if it had not been independently pursued. Nowadays both +the gas and the rigid body are manufactured out of a more primitive and +universal kind of matter. In like manner, as a question of methodology, +the laws of living bodies are to be studied, in the first place, without +any undue haste to subordinate them to the laws of physics. Boyle's law +and the rest had to be discovered before the kinetic theory of gases +became possible. But in psychology we are hardly yet at the stage +of Boyle's law. Meanwhile we need not be held up by the bogey of +the universal rigid exactness of physics. This is, as yet, a mere +hypothesis, to be tested empirically without any preconceptions. It may +be true, or it may not. So far, that is all we can say. + +Returning from this digression to our main topic, namely, the criticism +of "consciousness," we observe that Freud and his followers, though they +have demonstrated beyond dispute the immense importance of "unconscious" +desires in determining our actions and beliefs, have not attempted the +task of telling us what an "unconscious" desire actually is, and have +thus invested their doctrine with an air of mystery and mythology which +forms a large part of its popular attractiveness. They speak always as +though it were more normal for a desire to be conscious, and as though +a positive cause had to be assigned for its being unconscious. Thus +"the unconscious" becomes a sort of underground prisoner, living in a +dungeon, breaking in at long intervals upon our daylight respectability +with dark groans and maledictions and strange atavistic lusts. The +ordinary reader, almost inevitably, thinks of this underground person as +another consciousness, prevented by what Freud calls the "censor" from +making his voice heard in company, except on rare and dreadful occasions +when he shouts so loud that every one hears him and there is a scandal. +Most of us like the idea that we could be desperately wicked if only we +let ourselves go. For this reason, the Freudian "unconscious" has been a +consolation to many quiet and well-behaved persons. + +I do not think the truth is quite so picturesque as this. I believe an +"unconscious" desire is merely a causal law of our behaviour,* namely, +that we remain restlessly active until a certain state of affairs is +realized, when we achieve temporary equilibrium If we know beforehand +what this state of affairs is, our desire is conscious; if not, +unconscious. The unconscious desire is not something actually existing, +but merely a tendency to a certain behaviour; it has exactly the same +status as a force in dynamics. The unconscious desire is in no way +mysterious; it is the natural primitive form of desire, from which the +other has developed through our habit of observing and theorizing (often +wrongly). It is not necessary to suppose, as Freud seems to do, +that every unconscious wish was once conscious, and was then, in his +terminology, "repressed" because we disapproved of it. On the contrary, +we shall suppose that, although Freudian "repression" undoubtedly occurs +and is important, it is not the usual reason for unconsciousness of our +wishes. The usual reason is merely that wishes are all, to begin with, +unconscious, and only become known when they are actively noticed. +Usually, from laziness, people do not notice, but accept the theory +of human nature which they find current, and attribute to themselves +whatever wishes this theory would lead them to expect. We used to be +full of virtuous wishes, but since Freud our wishes have become, in +the words of the Prophet Jeremiah, "deceitful above all things and +desperately wicked." Both these views, in most of those who have held +them, are the product of theory rather than observation, for observation +requires effort, whereas repeating phrases does not. + + * Cf. Hart, "The Psychology of Insanity," p. 19. + +The interpretation of unconscious wishes which I have been advocating +has been set forth briefly by Professor John B. Watson in an article +called "The Psychology of Wish Fulfilment," which appeared in "The +Scientific Monthly" in November, 1916. Two quotations will serve to show +his point of view: + +"The Freudians (he says) have made more or less of a 'metaphysical +entity' out of the censor. They suppose that when wishes are repressed +they are repressed into the 'unconscious,' and that this mysterious +censor stands at the trapdoor lying between the conscious and the +unconscious. Many of us do not believe in a world of the unconscious +(a few of us even have grave doubts about the usefulness of the term +consciousness), hence we try to explain censorship along ordinary +biological lines. We believe that one group of habits can 'down' another +group of habits--or instincts. In this case our ordinary system of +habits--those which we call expressive of our 'real selves'--inhibit +or quench (keep inactive or partially inactive) those habits and +instinctive tendencies which belong largely in the past"(p. 483). + +Again, after speaking of the frustration of some impulses which is +involved in acquiring the habits of a civilized adult, he continues: + +"It is among these frustrated impulses that I would find the biological +basis of the unfulfilled wish. Such 'wishes' need never have been +'conscious,' and NEED NEVER HAVE BEEN SUPPRESSED INTO FREUD'S REALM +OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. It may be inferred from this that there is no +particular reason for applying the term 'wish' to such tendencies"(p. +485). + +One of the merits of the general analysis of mind which we shall +be concerned with in the following lectures is that it removes the +atmosphere of mystery from the phenomena brought to light by the +psycho-analysts. Mystery is delightful, but unscientific, since it +depends upon ignorance. Man has developed out of the animals, and +there is no serious gap between him and the amoeba. Something closely +analogous to knowledge and desire, as regards its effects on behaviour, +exists among animals, even where what we call "consciousness" is hard +to believe in; something equally analogous exists in ourselves in cases +where no trace of "consciousness" can be found. It is therefore +natural to suppose that, what ever may be the correct definition of +"consciousness," "consciousness" is not the essence of life or mind. In +the following lectures, accordingly, this term will disappear until we +have dealt with words, when it will re-emerge as mainly a trivial and +unimportant outcome of linguistic habits. + + + + +LECTURE II. INSTINCT AND HABIT + +In attempting to understand the elements out of which mental phenomena +are compounded, it is of the greatest importance to remember that from +the protozoa to man there is nowhere a very wide gap either in structure +or in behaviour. From this fact it is a highly probable inference that +there is also nowhere a very wide mental gap. It is, of course, POSSIBLE +that there may be, at certain stages in evolution, elements which are +entirely new from the standpoint of analysis, though in their nascent +form they have little influence on behaviour and no very marked +correlatives in structure. But the hypothesis of continuity in mental +development is clearly preferable if no psychological facts make it +impossible. We shall find, if I am not mistaken, that there are no facts +which refute the hypothesis of mental continuity, and that, on the other +hand, this hypothesis affords a useful test of suggested theories as to +the nature of mind. + +The hypothesis of mental continuity throughout organic evolution may be +used in two different ways. On the one hand, it may be held that we +have more knowledge of our own minds than those of animals, and that we +should use this knowledge to infer the existence of something similar +to our own mental processes in animals and even in plants. On the other +hand, it may be held that animals and plants present simpler phenomena, +more easily analysed than those of human minds; on this ground it may be +urged that explanations which are adequate in the case of animals ought +not to be lightly rejected in the case of man. The practical effects of +these two views are diametrically opposite: the first leads us to level +up animal intelligence with what we believe ourselves to know about our +own intelligence, while the second leads us to attempt a levelling down +of our own intelligence to something not too remote from what we can +observe in animals. It is therefore important to consider the relative +justification of the two ways of applying the principle of continuity. + +It is clear that the question turns upon another, namely, which can we +know best, the psychology of animals or that of human beings? If we +can know most about animals, we shall use this knowledge as a basis for +inference about human beings; if we can know most about human beings, we +shall adopt the opposite procedure. And the question whether we can know +most about the psychology of human beings or about that of animals turns +upon yet another, namely: Is introspection or external observation +the surer method in psychology? This is a question which I propose to +discuss at length in Lecture VI; I shall therefore content myself now +with a statement of the conclusions to be arrived at. + +We know a great many things concerning ourselves which we cannot know +nearly so directly concerning animals or even other people. We know when +we have a toothache, what we are thinking of, what dreams we have when +we are asleep, and a host of other occurrences which we only know about +others when they tell us of them, or otherwise make them inferable +by their behaviour. Thus, so far as knowledge of detached facts is +concerned, the advantage is on the side of self-knowledge as against +external observation. + +But when we come to the analysis and scientific understanding of the +facts, the advantages on the side of self-knowledge become far less +clear. We know, for example, that we have desires and beliefs, but we +do not know what constitutes a desire or a belief. The phenomena are so +familiar that it is difficult to realize how little we really know about +them. We see in animals, and to a lesser extent in plants, behaviour +more or less similar to that which, in us, is prompted by desires and +beliefs, and we find that, as we descend in the scale of evolution, +behaviour becomes simpler, more easily reducible to rule, more +scientifically analysable and predictable. And just because we are not +misled by familiarity we find it easier to be cautious in interpreting +behaviour when we are dealing with phenomena remote from those of our +own minds: Moreover, introspection, as psychoanalysis has demonstrated, +is extraordinarily fallible even in cases where we feel a high degree of +certainty. The net result seems to be that, though self-knowledge has +a definite and important contribution to make to psychology, it is +exceedingly misleading unless it is constantly checked and controlled +by the test of external observation, and by the theories which such +observation suggests when applied to animal behaviour. On the whole, +therefore, there is probably more to be learnt about human psychology +from animals than about animal psychology from human beings; but this +conclusion is one of degree, and must not be pressed beyond a point. + +It is only bodily phenomena that can be directly observed in animals, +or even, strictly speaking, in other human beings. We can observe such +things as their movements, their physiological processes, and the sounds +they emit. Such things as desires and beliefs, which seem obvious +to introspection, are not visible directly to external observation. +Accordingly, if we begin our study of psychology by external +observation, we must not begin by assuming such things as desires and +beliefs, but only such things as external observation can reveal, which +will be characteristics of the movements and physiological processes of +animals. Some animals, for example, always run away from light and hide +themselves in dark places. If you pick up a mossy stone which is lightly +embedded in the earth, you will see a number of small animals scuttling +away from the unwonted daylight and seeking again the darkness of which +you have deprived them. Such animals are sensitive to light, in the +sense that their movements are affected by it; but it would be rash to +infer that they have sensations in any way analogous to our sensations +of sight. Such inferences, which go beyond the observable facts, are to +be avoided with the utmost care. + +It is customary to divide human movements into three classes, voluntary, +reflex and mechanical. We may illustrate the distinction by a quotation +from William James ("Psychology," i, 12): + +"If I hear the conductor calling 'all aboard' as I enter the depot, my +heart first stops, then palpitates, and my legs respond to the air-waves +falling on my tympanum by quickening their movements. If I stumble as I +run, the sensation of falling provokes a movement of the hands towards +the direction of the fall, the effect of which is to shield the body +from too sudden a shock. If a cinder enter my eye, its lids close +forcibly and a copious flow of tears tends to wash it out. + +"These three responses to a sensational stimulus differ, however, in +many respects. The closure of the eye and the lachrymation are quite +involuntary, and so is the disturbance of the heart. Such involuntary +responses we know as 'reflex' acts. The motion of the arms to break the +shock of falling may also be called reflex, since it occurs too quickly +to be deliberately intended. Whether it be instinctive or whether it +result from the pedestrian education of childhood may be doubtful; it +is, at any rate, less automatic than the previous acts, for a man might +by conscious effort learn to perform it more skilfully, or even to +suppress it altogether. Actions of this kind, with which instinct and +volition enter upon equal terms, have been called 'semi-reflex.' The +act of running towards the train, on the other hand, has no instinctive +element about it. It is purely the result of education, and is preceded +by a consciousness of the purpose to be attained and a distinct mandate +of the will. It is a 'voluntary act.' Thus the animal's reflex and +voluntary performances shade into each other gradually, being connected +by acts which may often occur automatically, but may also be modified by +conscious intelligence. + +"An outside observer, unable to perceive the accompanying consciousness, +might be wholly at a loss to discriminate between the automatic acts and +those which volition escorted. But if the criterion of mind's existence +be the choice of the proper means for the attainment of a supposed +end, all the acts alike seem to be inspired by intelligence, for +APPROPRIATENESS characterizes them all alike." + +There is one movement, among those that James mentions at first, which +is not subsequently classified, namely, the stumbling. This is the +kind of movement which may be called "mechanical"; it is evidently of a +different kind from either reflex or voluntary movements, and more akin +to the movements of dead matter. We may define a movement of an animal's +body as "mechanical" when it proceeds as if only dead matter were +involved. For example, if you fall over a cliff, you move under the +influence of gravitation, and your centre of gravity describes just as +correct a parabola as if you were already dead. Mechanical movements +have not the characteristic of appropriateness, unless by accident, as +when a drunken man falls into a waterbutt and is sobered. But reflex +and voluntary movements are not ALWAYS appropriate, unless in some very +recondite sense. A moth flying into a lamp is not acting sensibly; no +more is a man who is in such a hurry to get his ticket that he cannot +remember the name of his destination. Appropriateness is a complicated +and merely approximate idea, and for the present we shall do well to +dismiss it from our thoughts. + +As James states, there is no difference, from the point of view of +the outside observer, between voluntary and reflex movements. The +physiologist can discover that both depend upon the nervous system, +and he may find that the movements which we call voluntary depend upon +higher centres in the brain than those that are reflex. But he +cannot discover anything as to the presence or absence of "will" or +"consciousness," for these things can only be seen from within, if +at all. For the present, we wish to place ourselves resolutely in the +position of outside observers; we will therefore ignore the distinction +between voluntary and reflex movements. We will call the two together +"vital" movements. We may then distinguish "vital" from mechanical +movements by the fact that vital movements depend for their causation +upon the special properties of the nervous system, while mechanical +movements depend only upon the properties which animal bodies share with +matter in general. + +There is need for some care if the distinction between mechanical and +vital movements is to be made precise. It is quite likely that, if we +knew more about animal bodies, we could deduce all their movements from +the laws of chemistry and physics. It is already fairly easy to see how +chemistry reduces to physics, i.e. how the differences between different +chemical elements can be accounted for by differences of physical +structure, the constituents of the structure being electrons which are +exactly alike in all kinds of matter. We only know in part how to reduce +physiology to chemistry, but we know enough to make it likely that the +reduction is possible. If we suppose it effected, what would become of +the difference between vital and mechanical movements? + +Some analogies will make the difference clear. A shock to a mass of +dynamite produces quite different effects from an equal shock to a mass +of steel: in the one case there is a vast explosion, while in the other +case there is hardly any noticeable disturbance. Similarly, you may +sometimes find on a mountain-side a large rock poised so delicately that +a touch will set it crashing down into the valley, while the rocks all +round are so firm that only a considerable force can dislodge them What +is analogous in these two cases is the existence of a great store of +energy in unstable equilibrium ready to burst into violent motion by +the addition of a very slight disturbance. Similarly, it requires only +a very slight expenditure of energy to send a post-card with the words +"All is discovered; fly!" but the effect in generating kinetic energy +is said to be amazing. A human body, like a mass of dynamite, contains +a store of energy in unstable equilibrium, ready to be directed in this +direction or that by a disturbance which is physically very small, +such as a spoken word. In all such cases the reduction of behaviour to +physical laws can only be effected by entering into great minuteness; so +long as we confine ourselves to the observation of comparatively +large masses, the way in which the equilibrium will be upset cannot be +determined. Physicists distinguish between macroscopic and microscopic +equations: the former determine the visible movements of bodies of +ordinary size, the latter the minute occurrences in the smallest parts. +It is only the microscopic equations that are supposed to be the same +for all sorts of matter. The macroscopic equations result from a process +of averaging out, and may be different in different cases. So, in our +instance, the laws of macroscopic phenomena are different for mechanical +and vital movements, though the laws of microscopic phenomena may be the +same. + +We may say, speaking somewhat roughly, that a stimulus applied to the +nervous system, like a spark to dynamite, is able to take advantage of +the stored energy in unstable equilibrium, and thus to produce movements +out of proportion to the proximate cause. Movements produced in this way +are vital movements, while mechanical movements are those in which the +stored energy of a living body is not involved. Similarly dynamite may +be exploded, thereby displaying its characteristic properties, or may +(with due precautions) be carted about like any other mineral. The +explosion is analogous to vital movements, the carting about to +mechanical movements. + +Mechanical movements are of no interest to the psychologist, and it has +only been necessary to define them in order to be able to exclude them. +When a psychologist studies behaviour, it is only vital movements +that concern him. We shall, therefore, proceed to ignore mechanical +movements, and study only the properties of the remainder. + +The next point is to distinguish between movements that are instinctive +and movements that are acquired by experience. This distinction also is +to some extent one of degree. Professor Lloyd Morgan gives the following +definition of "instinctive behaviour": + +"That which is, on its first occurrence, independent of prior +experience; which tends to the well-being of the individual and the +preservation of the race; which is similarly performed by all members +of the same more or less restricted group of animals; and which may be +subject to subsequent modification under the guidance of experience." * + + * "Instinct and Experience" (Methuen, 1912) p. 5. + +This definition is framed for the purposes of biology, and is in +some respects unsuited to the needs of psychology. Though perhaps +unavoidable, allusion to "the same more or less restricted group +of animals" makes it impossible to judge what is instinctive in the +behaviour of an isolated individual. Moreover, "the well-being of +the individual and the preservation of the race" is only a usual +characteristic, not a universal one, of the sort of movements that, from +our point of view, are to be called instinctive; instances of harmful +instincts will be given shortly. The essential point of the definition, +from our point of view, is that an instinctive movement is in dependent +of prior experience. + +We may say that an "instinctive" movement is a vital movement performed +by an animal the first time that it finds itself in a novel situation; +or, more correctly, one which it would perform if the situation were +novel.* The instincts of an animal are different at different periods of +its growth, and this fact may cause changes of behaviour which are +not due to learning. The maturing and seasonal fluctuation of the +sex-instinct affords a good illustration. When the sex-instinct first +matures, the behaviour of an animal in the presence of a mate is +different from its previous behaviour in similar circumstances, but is +not learnt, since it is just the same if the animal has never previously +been in the presence of a mate. + + * Though this can only be decided by comparison with other + members of the species, and thus exposes us to the need of + comparison which we thought an objection to Professor Lloyd + Morgan's definition. + +On the other hand, a movement is "learnt," or embodies a "habit," if it +is due to previous experience of similar situations, and is not what it +would be if the animal had had no such experience. + +There are various complications which blur the sharpness of this +distinction in practice. To begin with, many instincts mature gradually, +and while they are immature an animal may act in a fumbling manner which +is very difficult to distinguish from learning. James ("Psychology," ii, +407) maintains that children walk by instinct, and that the awkwardness +of their first attempts is only due to the fact that the instinct has +not yet ripened. He hopes that "some scientific widower, left alone with +his offspring at the critical moment, may ere long test this suggestion +on the living subject." However this may be, he quotes evidence to show +that "birds do not LEARN to fly," but fly by instinct when they reach +the appropriate age (ib., p. 406). In the second place, instinct often +gives only a rough outline of the sort of thing to do, in which case +learning is necessary in order to acquire certainty and precision in +action. In the third place, even in the clearest cases of acquired +habit, such as speaking, some instinct is required to set in motion +the process of learning. In the case of speaking, the chief instinct +involved is commonly supposed to be that of imitation, but this may be +questioned. (See Thorndike's "Animal Intelligence," p. 253 ff.) + +In spite of these qualifications, the broad distinction between instinct +and habit is undeniable. To take extreme cases, every animal at birth +can take food by instinct, before it has had opportunity to learn; on +the other hand, no one can ride a bicycle by instinct, though, after +learning, the necessary movements become just as automatic as if they +were instinctive. + +The process of learning, which consists in the acquisition of habits, +has been much studied in various animals.* For example: you put a hungry +animal, say a cat, in a cage which has a door that can be opened by +lifting a latch; outside the cage you put food. The cat at first dashes +all round the cage, making frantic efforts to force a way out. At last, +by accident, the latch is lifted and the cat pounces on the food. Next +day you repeat the experiment, and you find that the cat gets out much +more quickly than the first time, although it still makes some random +movements. The third day it gets out still more quickly, and before long +it goes straight to the latch and lifts it at once. Or you make a model +of the Hampton Court maze, and put a rat in the middle, assaulted by the +smell of food on the outside. The rat starts running down the passages, +and is constantly stopped by blind alleys, but at last, by persistent +attempts, it gets out. You repeat this experiment day after day; you +measure the time taken by the rat in reaching the food; you find that +the time rapidly diminishes, and that after a while the rat ceases to +make any wrong turnings. It is by essentially similar processes that we +learn speaking, writing, mathematics, or the government of an empire. + + * The scientific study of this subject may almost be said to + begin with Thorndike's "Animal Intelligence" (Macmillan, + 1911). + +Professor Watson ("Behavior," pp. 262-3) has an ingenious theory as to +the way in which habit arises out of random movements. I think there is +a reason why his theory cannot be regarded as alone sufficient, but it +seems not unlikely that it is partly correct. Suppose, for the sake of +simplicity, that there are just ten random movements which may be made +by the animal--say, ten paths down which it may go--and that only one of +these leads to food, or whatever else represents success in the case in +question. Then the successful movement always occurs during the animal's +attempts, whereas each of the others, on the average, occurs in only +half the attempts. Thus the tendency to repeat a previous performance +(which is easily explicable without the intervention of "consciousness") +leads to a greater emphasis on the successful movement than on any +other, and in time causes it alone to be performed. The objection to +this view, if taken as the sole explanation, is that on improvement +ought to set in till after the SECOND trial, whereas experiment shows +that already at the second attempt the animal does better than the +first time. Something further is, therefore, required to account for the +genesis of habit from random movements; but I see no reason to suppose +that what is further required involves "consciousness." + +Mr. Thorndike (op. cit., p. 244) formulates two "provisional laws of +acquired behaviour or learning," as follows: + +"The Law of Effect is that: Of several responses made to the same +situation, those which are accompanied or closely followed by +satisfaction to the animal will, other things being equal, be more +firmly connected with the situation, so that, when it recurs, they will +be more likely to recur; those which are accompanied or closely followed +by discomfort to the animal will, other things being equal, have their +connections with that situation weakened, so that, when it recurs, +they will be less likely to occur. The greater the satisfaction or +discomfort, the greater the strengthening or weakening of the bond. + +"The Law of Exercise is that: Any response to a situation will, other +things being equal, be more strongly connected with the situation +in proportion to the number of times it has been connected with that +situation and to the average vigour and duration of the connections." + +With the explanation to be presently given of the meaning of +"satisfaction" and "discomfort," there seems every reason to accept +these two laws. + +What is true of animals, as regards instinct and habit, is equally +true of men. But the higher we rise in the evolutionary scale, broadly +speaking, the greater becomes the power of learning, and the fewer are +the occasions when pure instinct is exhibited unmodified in adult life. +This applies with great force to man, so much so that some have thought +instinct less important in the life of man than in that of animals. +This, however, would be a mistake. Learning is only possible when +instinct supplies the driving-force. The animals in cages, which +gradually learn to get out, perform random movements at first, which +are purely instinctive. But for these random movements, they would never +acquire the experience which afterwards enables them to produce the +right movement. (This is partly questioned by Hobhouse*--wrongly, I +think.) Similarly, children learning to talk make all sorts of sounds, +until one day the right sound comes by accident. It is clear that the +original making of random sounds, without which speech would never be +learnt, is instinctive. I think we may say the same of all the habits +and aptitudes that we acquire in all of them there has been present +throughout some instinctive activity, prompting at first rather +inefficient movements, but supplying the driving force while more and +more effective methods are being acquired. A cat which is hungry smells +fish, and goes to the larder. This is a thoroughly efficient method when +there is fish in the larder, and it is often successfully practised by +children. But in later life it is found that merely going to the larder +does not cause fish to be there; after a series of random movements it +is found that this result is to be caused by going to the City in the +morning and coming back in the evening. No one would have guessed a +priori that this movement of a middle-aged man's body would cause fish +to come out of the sea into his larder, but experience shows that it +does, and the middle-aged man therefore continues to go to the City, +just as the cat in the cage continues to lift the latch when it has once +found it. Of course, in actual fact, human learning is rendered easier, +though psychologically more complex, through language; but at bottom +language does not alter the essential character of learning, or of the +part played by instinct in promoting learning. Language, however, is a +subject upon which I do not wish to speak until a later lecture. + + * "Mind in Evolution" (Macmillan, 1915), pp. 236-237. + +The popular conception of instinct errs by imagining it to be infallible +and preternaturally wise, as well as incapable of modification. This is +a complete delusion. Instinct, as a rule, is very rough and ready, able +to achieve its result under ordinary circumstances, but easily misled by +anything unusual. Chicks follow their mother by instinct, but when they +are quite young they will follow with equal readiness any moving +object remotely resembling their mother, or even a human being (James, +"Psychology," ii, 396). Bergson, quoting Fabre, has made play with the +supposed extraordinary accuracy of the solitary wasp Ammophila, which +lays its eggs in a caterpillar. On this subject I will quote from +Drever's "Instinct in Man," p. 92: + +"According to Fabre's observations, which Bergson accepts, the Ammophila +stings its prey EXACTLY and UNERRINGLY in EACH of the nervous centres. +The result is that the caterpillar is paralyzed, but not immediately +killed, the advantage of this being that the larva cannot be injured by +any movement of the caterpillar, upon which the egg is deposited, and is +provided with fresh meat when the time comes. + +"Now Dr. and Mrs. Peckham have shown that the sting of the wasp is NOT +UNERRING, as Fabre alleges, that the number of stings is NOT CONSTANT, +that sometimes the caterpillar is NOT PARALYZED, and sometimes it is +KILLED OUTRIGHT, and that THE DIFFERENT CIRCUMSTANCES DO NOT APPARENTLY +MAKE ANY DIFFERENCE TO THE LARVA, which is not injured by slight +movements of the caterpillar, nor by consuming food decomposed rather +than fresh caterpillar." + +This illustrates how love of the marvellous may mislead even so careful +an observer as Fabre and so eminent a philosopher as Bergson. + +In the same chapter of Dr. Drever's book there are some interesting +examples of the mistakes made by instinct. I will quote one as a sample: + +"The larva of the Lomechusa beetle eats the young of the ants, in whose +nest it is reared. Nevertheless, the ants tend the Lomechusa larvae +with the same care they bestow on their own young. Not only so, but they +apparently discover that the methods of feeding, which suit their own +larvae, would prove fatal to the guests, and accordingly they change +their whole system of nursing" (loc. cit., p. 106). + +Semon ("Die Mneme," pp. 207-9) gives a good illustration of an instinct +growing wiser through experience. He relates how hunters attract stags +by imitating the sounds of other members of their species, male or +female, but find that the older a stag becomes the more difficult it +is to deceive him, and the more accurate the imitation has to be. The +literature of instinct is vast, and illustrations might be multiplied +indefinitely. The main points as regards instinct, which need to be +emphasized as against the popular conceptions of it, are: + +(1) That instinct requires no prevision of the biological end which it +serves; + +(2) That instinct is only adapted to achieve this end in the usual +circumstances of the animal in question, and has no more precision than +is necessary for success AS A RULE; + +(3) That processes initiated by instinct often come to be performed +better after experience; + +(4) That instinct supplies the impulses to experimental movements which +are required for the process of learning; + +(5) That instincts in their nascent stages are easily modifiable, and +capable of being attached to various sorts of objects. + +All the above characteristics of instinct can be established by purely +external observation, except the fact that instinct does not require +prevision. This, though not strictly capable of being PROVED by +observation, is irresistibly suggested by the most obvious phenomena. +Who can believe, for example, that a new-born baby is aware of the +necessity of food for preserving life? Or that insects, in laying eggs, +are concerned for the preservation of their species? The essence of +instinct, one might say, is that it provides a mechanism for +acting without foresight in a manner which is usually advantageous +biologically. It is partly for this reason that it is so important to +understand the fundamental position of instinct in prompting both animal +and human behaviour. + + + + +LECTURE III. DESIRE AND FEELING + +Desire is a subject upon which, if I am not mistaken, true views can +only be arrived at by an almost complete reversal of the ordinary +unreflecting opinion. It is natural to regard desire as in its essence +an attitude towards something which is imagined, not actual; this +something is called the END or OBJECT of the desire, and is said to be +the PURPOSE of any action resulting from the desire. We think of the +content of the desire as being just like the content of a belief, while +the attitude taken up towards the content is different. According to +this theory, when we say: "I hope it will rain," or "I expect it will +rain," we express, in the first case, a desire, and in the second, a +belief, with an identical content, namely, the image of rain. It would +be easy to say that, just as belief is one kind of feeling in relation +to this content, so desire is another kind. According to this view, what +comes first in desire is something imagined, with a specific feeling +related to it, namely, that specific feeling which we call "desiring" +it. The discomfort associated with unsatisfied desire, and the actions +which aim at satisfying desire, are, in this view, both of them effects +of the desire. I think it is fair to say that this is a view against +which common sense would not rebel; nevertheless, I believe it to be +radically mistaken. It cannot be refuted logically, but various facts +can be adduced which make it gradually less simple and plausible, until +at last it turns out to be easier to abandon it wholly and look at the +matter in a totally different way. + +The first set of facts to be adduced against the common sense view of +desire are those studied by psycho-analysis. In all human beings, but +most markedly in those suffering from hysteria and certain forms of +insanity, we find what are called "unconscious" desires, which are +commonly regarded as showing self-deception. Most psycho-analysts +pay little attention to the analysis of desire, being interested in +discovering by observation what it is that people desire, rather than in +discovering what actually constitutes desire. I think the strangeness of +what they report would be greatly diminished if it were expressed in the +language of a behaviourist theory of desire, rather than in the language +of every-day beliefs. The general description of the sort of phenomena +that bear on our present question is as follows: A person states that +his desires are so-and-so, and that it is these desires that inspire his +actions; but the outside observer perceives that his actions are such +as to realize quite different ends from those which he avows, and +that these different ends are such as he might be expected to desire. +Generally they are less virtuous than his professed desires, and are +therefore less agreeable to profess than these are. It is accordingly +supposed that they really exist as desires for ends, but in a +subconscious part of the mind, which the patient refuses to admit into +consciousness for fear of having to think ill of himself. There are +no doubt many cases to which such a supposition is applicable without +obvious artificiality. But the deeper the Freudians delve into the +underground regions of instinct, the further they travel from anything +resembling conscious desire, and the less possible it becomes to believe +that only positive self-deception conceals from us that we really wish +for things which are abhorrent to our explicit life. + +In the cases in question we have a conflict between the outside observer +and the patient's consciousness. The whole tendency of psycho-analysis +is to trust the outside observer rather than the testimony of +introspection. I believe this tendency to be entirely right, but to +demand a re-statement of what constitutes desire, exhibiting it as a +causal law of our actions, not as something actually existing in our +minds. + +But let us first get a clearer statement of the essential characteristic +of the phenomena. + +A person, we find, states that he desires a certain end A, and that he +is acting with a view to achieving it. We observe, however, that his +actions are such as are likely to achieve a quite different end B, and +that B is the sort of end that often seems to be aimed at by animals and +savages, though civilized people are supposed to have discarded it. We +sometimes find also a whole set of false beliefs, of such a kind as to +persuade the patient that his actions are really a means to A, when in +fact they are a means to B. For example, we have an impulse to inflict +pain upon those whom we hate; we therefore believe that they are wicked, +and that punishment will reform them. This belief enables us to act upon +the impulse to inflict pain, while believing that we are acting upon +the desire to lead sinners to repentance. It is for this reason that the +criminal law has been in all ages more severe than it would have been if +the impulse to ameliorate the criminal had been what really inspired +it. It seems simple to explain such a state of affairs as due to +"self-deception," but this explanation is often mythical. Most people, +in thinking about punishment, have had no more need to hide their +vindictive impulses from themselves than they have had to hide +the exponential theorem. Our impulses are not patent to a casual +observation, but are only to be discovered by a scientific study of our +actions, in the course of which we must regard ourselves as objectively +as we should the motions of the planets or the chemical reactions of a +new element. + +The study of animals reinforces this conclusion, and is in many ways +the best preparation for the analysis of desire. In animals we are +not troubled by the disturbing influence of ethical considerations. In +dealing with human beings, we are perpetually distracted by being told +that such-and-such a view is gloomy or cynical or pessimistic: ages of +human conceit have built up such a vast myth as to our wisdom and virtue +that any intrusion of the mere scientific desire to know the facts is +instantly resented by those who cling to comfortable illusions. But no +one cares whether animals are virtuous or not, and no one is under the +delusion that they are rational. Moreover, we do not expect them to be +so "conscious," and are prepared to admit that their instincts prompt +useful actions without any prevision of the ends which they achieve. For +all these reasons, there is much in the analysis of mind which is more +easily discovered by the study of animals than by the observation of +human beings. + +We all think that, by watching the behaviour of animals, we can discover +more or less what they desire. If this is the case--and I fully agree +that it is--desire must be capable of being exhibited in actions, for it +is only the actions of animals that we can observe. They MAY have minds +in which all sorts of things take place, but we can know nothing about +their minds except by means of inferences from their actions; and the +more such inferences are examined, the more dubious they appear. It +would seem, therefore, that actions alone must be the test of the +desires of animals. From this it is an easy step to the conclusion that +an animal's desire is nothing but a characteristic of a certain series +of actions, namely, those which would be commonly regarded as inspired +by the desire in question. And when it has been shown that this view +affords a satisfactory account of animal desires, it is not difficult +to see that the same explanation is applicable to the desires of human +beings. + +We judge easily from the behaviour of an animal of a familiar +kind whether it is hungry or thirsty, or pleased or displeased, or +inquisitive or terrified. The verification of our judgment, so far +as verification is possible, must be derived from the immediately +succeeding actions of the animal. Most people would say that they infer +first something about the animal's state of mind--whether it is hungry +or thirsty and so on--and thence derive their expectations as to its +subsequent conduct. But this detour through the animal's supposed mind +is wholly unnecessary. We can say simply: The animal's behaviour during +the last minute has had those characteristics which distinguish what +is called "hunger," and it is likely that its actions during the next +minute will be similar in this respect, unless it finds food, or is +interrupted by a stronger impulse, such as fear. An animal which is +hungry is restless, it goes to the places where food is often to be +found, it sniffs with its nose or peers with its eyes or otherwise +increases the sensitiveness of its sense-organs; as soon as it is near +enough to food for its sense-organs to be affected, it goes to it with +all speed and proceeds to eat; after which, if the quantity of food has +been sufficient, its whole demeanour changes it may very likely lie +down and go to sleep. These things and others like them are observable +phenomena distinguishing a hungry animal from one which is not hungry. +The characteristic mark by which we recognize a series of actions +which display hunger is not the animal's mental state, which we cannot +observe, but something in its bodily behaviour; it is this observable +trait in the bodily behaviour that I am proposing to call "hunger," +not some possibly mythical and certainly unknowable ingredient of the +animal's mind. + +Generalizing what occurs in the case of hunger, we may say that what +we call a desire in an animal is always displayed in a cycle of actions +having certain fairly well marked characteristics. There is first a +state of activity, consisting, with qualifications to be mentioned +presently, of movements likely to have a certain result; these +movements, unless interrupted, continue until the result is achieved, +after which there is usually a period of comparative quiescence. A cycle +of actions of this sort has marks by which it is broadly distinguished +from the motions of dead matter. The most notable of these marks +are--(1) the appropriateness of the actions for the realization of a +certain result; (2) the continuance of action until that result has been +achieved. Neither of these can be pressed beyond a point. Either may +be (a) to some extent present in dead matter, and (b) to a considerable +extent absent in animals, while vegetable are intermediate, and display +only a much fainter form of the behaviour which leads us to attribute +desire to animals. (a) One might say rivers "desire" the sea water, +roughly speaking, remains in restless motion until it reaches either +the sea or a place from which it cannot issue without going uphill, and +therefore we might say that this is what it wishes while it is flowing. +We do not say so, because we can account for the behaviour of water by +the laws of physics; and if we knew more about animals, we might equally +cease to attribute desires to them, since we might find physical and +chemical reactions sufficient to account for their behaviour. (b) Many +of the movements of animals do not exhibit the characteristics of the +cycles which seem to embody desire. There are first of all the movements +which are "mechanical," such as slipping and falling, where ordinary +physical forces operate upon the animal's body almost as if it were +dead matter. An animal which falls over a cliff may make a number of +desperate struggles while it is in the air, but its centre of gravity +will move exactly as it would if the animal were dead. In this case, if +the animal is killed at the end of the fall, we have, at first sight, +just the characteristics of a cycle of actions embodying desire, namely, +restless movement until the ground is reached, and then quiescence. +Nevertheless, we feel no temptation to say that the animal desired what +occurred, partly because of the obviously mechanical nature of the whole +occurrence, partly because, when an animal survives a fall, it tends not +to repeat the experience. + +There may be other reasons also, but of them I do not wish to speak yet. +Besides mechanical movements, there are interrupted movements, as when +a bird, on its way to eat your best peas, is frightened away by the boy +whom you are employing for that purpose. If interruptions are frequent +and completion of cycles rare, the characteristics by which cycles +are observed may become so blurred as to be almost unrecognizable. The +result of these various considerations is that the differences +between animals and dead matter, when we confine ourselves to external +unscientific observation of integral behaviour, are a matter of degree +and not very precise. It is for this reason that it has always been +possible for fanciful people to maintain that even stocks and stones +have some vague kind of soul. The evidence that animals have souls is +so very shaky that, if it is assumed to be conclusive, one might just as +well go a step further and extend the argument by analogy to all matter. +Nevertheless, in spite of vagueness and doubtful cases, the existence +of cycles in the behaviour of animals is a broad characteristic by which +they are prima facie distinguished from ordinary matter; and I think it +is this characteristic which leads us to attribute desires to animals, +since it makes their behaviour resemble what we do when (as we say) we +are acting from desire. + +I shall adopt the following definitions for describing the behaviour of +animals: + +A "behaviour-cycle" is a series of voluntary or reflex movements of an +animal, tending to cause a certain result, and continuing until that +result is caused, unless they are interrupted by death, accident, +or some new behaviour-cycle. (Here "accident" may be defined as the +intervention of purely physical laws causing mechanical movements.) + +The "purpose" of a behaviour-cycle is the result which brings it to an +end, normally by a condition of temporary quiescence-provided there is +no interruption. + +An animal is said to "desire" the purpose of a behaviour cycle while the +behaviour-cycle is in progress. + +I believe these definitions to be adequate also to human purposes and +desires, but for the present I am only occupied with animals and with +what can be learnt by external observation. I am very anxious that no +ideas should be attached to the words "purpose" and "desire" beyond +those involved in the above definitions. + +We have not so far considered what is the nature of the initial stimulus +to a behaviour-cycle. Yet it is here that the usual view of desire seems +on the strongest ground. The hungry animal goes on making movements +until it gets food; it seems natural, therefore, to suppose that the +idea of food is present throughout the process, and that the thought of +the end to be achieved sets the whole process in motion. Such a view, +however, is obviously untenable in many cases, especially where instinct +is concerned. Take, for example, reproduction and the rearing of the +young. Birds mate, build a nest, lay eggs in it, sit on the eggs, feed +the young birds, and care for them until they are fully grown. It +is totally impossible to suppose that this series of actions, which +constitutes one behaviour-cycle, is inspired by any prevision of the +end, at any rate the first time it is performed.* We must suppose that +the stimulus to the performance of each act is an impulsion from behind, +not an attraction from the future. The bird does what it does, at each +stage, because it has an impulse to that particular action, not because +it perceives that the whole cycle of actions will contribute to the +preservation of the species. The same considerations apply to other +instincts. A hungry animal feels restless, and is led by instinctive +impulses to perform the movements which give it nourishment; but the act +of seeking food is not sufficient evidence from which to conclude that +the animal has the thought of food in its "mind." + + * For evidence as to birds' nests, cf. Semon, "Die Mneme," + pp. 209, 210. + +Coming now to human beings, and to what we know about our own actions, +it seems clear that what, with us, sets a behaviour-cycle in motion is +some sensation of the sort which we call disagreeable. Take the case +of hunger: we have first an uncomfortable feeling inside, producing a +disinclination to sit still, a sensitiveness to savoury smells, and an +attraction towards any food that there may be in our neighbourhood. At +any moment during this process we may become aware that we are hungry, +in the sense of saying to ourselves, "I am hungry"; but we may have been +acting with reference to food for some time before this moment. While we +are talking or reading, we may eat in complete unconsciousness; but we +perform the actions of eating just as we should if we were conscious, +and they cease when our hunger is appeased. What we call "consciousness" +seems to be a mere spectator of the process; even when it issues orders, +they are usually, like those of a wise parent, just such as would have +been obeyed even if they had not been given. This view may seem at first +exaggerated, but the more our so-called volitions and their causes are +examined, the more it is forced upon us. The part played by words in all +this is complicated, and a potent source of confusions; I shall return +to it later. For the present, I am still concerned with primitive +desire, as it exists in man, but in the form in which man shows his +affinity to his animal ancestors. + +Conscious desire is made up partly of what is essential to desire, +partly of beliefs as to what we want. It is important to be clear as to +the part which does not consist of beliefs. + +The primitive non-cognitive element in desire seems to be a push, not +a pull, an impulsion away from the actual, rather than an attraction +towards the ideal. Certain sensations and other mental occurrences have +a property which we call discomfort; these cause such bodily movements +as are likely to lead to their cessation. When the discomfort ceases, +or even when it appreciably diminishes, we have sensations possessing a +property which we call PLEASURE. Pleasurable sensations either stimulate +no action at all, or at most stimulate such action as is likely to +prolong them. I shall return shortly to the consideration of what +discomfort and pleasure are in themselves; for the present, it is +their connection with action and desire that concerns us. Abandoning +momentarily the standpoint of behaviourism, we may presume that hungry +animals experience sensations involving discomfort, and stimulating such +movements as seem likely to bring them to the food which is outside the +cages. When they have reached the food and eaten it, their discomfort +ceases and their sensations become pleasurable. It SEEMS, mistakenly, as +if the animals had had this situation in mind throughout, when in fact +they have been continually pushed by discomfort. And when an animal +is reflective, like some men, it comes to think that it had the final +situation in mind throughout; sometimes it comes to know what situation +will bring satisfaction, so that in fact the discomfort does bring the +thought of what will allay it. Nevertheless the sensation involving +discomfort remains the prime mover. + +This brings us to the question of the nature of discomfort and pleasure. +Since Kant it has been customary to recognize three great divisions of +mental phenomena, which are typified by knowledge, desire and feeling, +where "feeling" is used to mean pleasure and discomfort. Of course, +"knowledge" is too definite a word: the states of mind concerned are +grouped together as "cognitive," and are to embrace not only beliefs, +but perceptions, doubts, and the understanding of concepts. "Desire," +also, is narrower than what is intended: for example, WILL is to be +included in this category, and in fact every thing that involves any +kind of striving, or "conation" as it is technically called. I do not +myself believe that there is any value in this threefold division of the +contents of mind. I believe that sensations (including images) supply +all the "stuff" of the mind, and that everything else can be analysed +into groups of sensations related in various ways, or characteristics of +sensations or of groups of sensations. As regards belief, I shall give +grounds for this view in later lectures. As regards desires, I have +given some grounds in this lecture. For the present, it is pleasure and +discomfort that concern us. There are broadly three theories that might +be held in regard to them. We may regard them as separate existing +items in those who experience them, or we may regard them as intrinsic +qualities of sensations and other mental occurrences, or we may regard +them as mere names for the causal characteristics of the occurrences +which are uncomfortable or pleasant. The first of these theories, +namely, that which regards discomfort and pleasure as actual contents in +those who experience them, has, I think, nothing conclusive to be said +in its favour.* It is suggested chiefly by an ambiguity in the word +"pain," which has misled many people, including Berkeley, whom it +supplied with one of his arguments for subjective idealism. We may use +"pain" as the opposite of "pleasure," and "painful" as the opposite of +"pleasant," or we may use "pain" to mean a certain sort of sensation, on +a level with the sensations of heat and cold and touch. The latter use +of the word has prevailed in psychological literature, and it is now +no longer used as the opposite of "pleasure." Dr. H. Head, in a recent +publication, has stated this distinction as follows:** + + * Various arguments in its favour are advanced by A. + Wohlgemuth, "On the feelings and their neural correlate, + with an examination of the nature of pain," "British Journal + of Psychology," viii, 4. (1917). But as these arguments are + largely a reductio ad absurdum of other theories, among + which that which I am advocating is not included, I cannot + regard them as establishing their contention. + + ** "Sensation and the Cerebral Cortex," "Brain," vol. xli, + part ii (September, 1918), p. 90. Cf. also Wohlgemuth, loc. + cit. pp. 437, 450. + +"It is necessary at the outset to distinguish clearly between +'discomfort' and 'pain.' Pain is a distinct sensory quality equivalent +to heat and cold, and its intensity can be roughly graded according to +the force expended in stimulation. Discomfort, on the other hand, +is that feeling-tone which is directly opposed to pleasure. It may +accompany sensations not in themselves essentially painful; as for +instance that produced by tickling the sole of the foot. The reaction +produced by repeated pricking contains both these elements; for it +evokes that sensory quality known as pain, accompanied by a disagreeable +feeling-tone, which we have called discomfort. On the other hand, +excessive pressure, except when applied directly over some nerve-trunk, +tends to excite more discomfort than pain." + +The confusion between discomfort and pain has made people regard +discomfort as a more substantial thing than it is, and this in turn has +reacted upon the view taken of pleasure, since discomfort and pleasure +are evidently on a level in this respect. As soon as discomfort is +clearly distinguished from the sensation of pain, it becomes more +natural to regard discomfort and pleasure as properties of mental +occurrences than to regard them as separate mental occurrences on their +own account. I shall therefore dismiss the view that they are separate +mental occurrences, and regard them as properties of such experiences as +would be called respectively uncomfortable and pleasant. + +It remains to be examined whether they are actual qualities of such +occurrences, or are merely differences as to causal properties. I do not +myself see any way of deciding this question; either view seems equally +capable of accounting for the facts. If this is true, it is safer to +avoid the assumption that there are such intrinsic qualities of +mental occurrences as are in question, and to assume only the causal +differences which are undeniable. Without condemning the intrinsic +theory, we can define discomfort and pleasure as consisting in causal +properties, and say only what will hold on either of the two theories. +Following this course, we shall say: + +"Discomfort" is a property of a sensation or other mental occurrence, +consisting in the fact that the occurrence in question stimulates +voluntary or reflex movements tending to produce some more or less +definite change involving the cessation of the occurrence. + +"Pleasure" is a property of a sensation or other mental occurrence, +consisting in the fact that the occurrence in question either does not +stimulate any voluntary or reflex movement, or, if it does, stimulates +only such as tend to prolong the occurrence in question.* + + * Cf. Thorndike, op. cit., p. 243. + +"Conscious" desire, which we have now to consider, consists of desire +in the sense hitherto discussed, together with a true belief as to its +"purpose," i.e. as to the state of affairs that will bring quiescence +with cessation of the discomfort. If our theory of desire is correct, +a belief as to its purpose may very well be erroneous, since only +experience can show what causes a discomfort to cease. When the +experience needed is common and simple, as in the case of hunger, a +mistake is not very probable. But in other cases--e.g. erotic desire in +those who have had little or no experience of its satisfaction--mistakes +are to be expected, and do in fact very often occur. The practice of +inhibiting impulses, which is to a great extent necessary to civilized +life, makes mistakes easier, by preventing experience of the actions to +which a desire would otherwise lead, and by often causing the inhibited +impulses themselves to be unnoticed or quickly forgotten. The perfectly +natural mistakes which thus arise constitute a large proportion of what +is, mistakenly in part, called self-deception, and attributed by Freud +to the "censor." + +But there is a further point which needs emphasizing, namely, that a +belief that something is desired has often a tendency to cause the very +desire that is believed in. It is this fact that makes the effect of +"consciousness" on desire so complicated. + +When we believe that we desire a certain state of affairs, that often +tends to cause a real desire for it. This is due partly to the influence +of words upon our emotions, in rhetoric for example, and partly to the +general fact that discomfort normally belongs to the belief that we +desire such-and-such a thing that we do not possess. Thus what was +originally a false opinion as to the object of a desire acquires a +certain truth: the false opinion generates a secondary subsidiary +desire, which nevertheless becomes real. Let us take an illustration. +Suppose you have been jilted in a way which wounds your vanity. Your +natural impulsive desire will be of the sort expressed in Donne's poem: + + When by thy scorn, O Murderess, I am dead, + +in which he explains how he will haunt the poor lady as a ghost, and +prevent her from enjoying a moment's peace. But two things stand in +the way of your expressing yourself so naturally: on the one hand, your +vanity, which will not acknowledge how hard you are hit; on the other +hand, your conviction that you are a civilized and humane person, +who could not possibly indulge so crude a desire as revenge. You will +therefore experience a restlessness which will at first seem quite +aimless, but will finally resolve itself in a conscious desire to change +your profession, or go round the world, or conceal your identity and +live in Putney, like Arnold Bennett's hero. Although the prime cause of +this desire is a false judgment as to your previous unconscious desire, +yet the new conscious desire has its own derivative genuineness, and may +influence your actions to the extent of sending you round the world. +The initial mistake, however, will have effects of two kinds. First, +in uncontrolled moments, under the influence of sleepiness or drink +or delirium, you will say things calculated to injure the faithless +deceiver. Secondly, you will find travel disappointing, and the East +less fascinating than you had hoped--unless, some day, you hear that the +wicked one has in turn been jilted. If this happens, you will believe +that you feel sincere sympathy, but you will suddenly be much more +delighted than before with the beauties of tropical islands or the +wonders of Chinese art. A secondary desire, derived from a false +judgment as to a primary desire, has its own power of influencing +action, and is therefore a real desire according to our definition. +But it has not the same power as a primary desire of bringing thorough +satisfaction when it is realized; so long as the primary desire remains +unsatisfied, restlessness continues in spite of the secondary desire's +success. Hence arises a belief in the vanity of human wishes: the vain +wishes are those that are secondary, but mistaken beliefs prevent us +from realizing that they are secondary. + +What may, with some propriety, be called self-deception arises through +the operation of desires for beliefs. We desire many things which it is +not in our power to achieve: that we should be universally popular and +admired, that our work should be the wonder of the age, and that the +universe should be so ordered as to bring ultimate happiness to all, +though not to our enemies until they have repented and been purified +by suffering. Such desires are too large to be achieved through our own +efforts. But it is found that a considerable portion of the satisfaction +which these things would bring us if they were realized is to be +achieved by the much easier operation of believing that they are or +will be realized. This desire for beliefs, as opposed to desire for the +actual facts, is a particular case of secondary desire, and, like all +secondary desire its satisfaction does not lead to a complete cessation +of the initial discomfort. Nevertheless, desire for beliefs, as opposed +to desire for facts, is exceedingly potent both individually and +socially. According to the form of belief desired, it is called vanity, +optimism, or religion. Those who have sufficient power usually imprison +or put to death any one who tries to shake their faith in their own +excellence or in that of the universe; it is for this reason that +seditious libel and blasphemy have always been, and still are, criminal +offences. + +It is very largely through desires for beliefs that the primitive +nature of desire has become so hidden, and that the part played by +consciousness has been so confusing and so exaggerated. + +We may now summarize our analysis of desire and feeling. + +A mental occurrence of any kind--sensation, image, belief, or +emotion--may be a cause of a series of actions, continuing, unless +interrupted, until some more or less definite state of affairs is +realized. Such a series of actions we call a "behaviour-cycle." The +degree of definiteness may vary greatly: hunger requires only food in +general, whereas the sight of a particular piece of food raises a desire +which requires the eating of that piece of food. The property of causing +such a cycle of occurrences is called "discomfort"; the property of the +mental occurrences in which the cycle ends is called "pleasure." The +actions constituting the cycle must not be purely mechanical, i.e. they +must be bodily movements in whose causation the special properties +of nervous tissue are involved. The cycle ends in a condition of +quiescence, or of such action as tends only to preserve the status quo. +The state of affairs in which this condition of quiescence is achieved +is called the "purpose" of the cycle, and the initial mental occurrence +involving discomfort is called a "desire" for the state of affairs that +brings quiescence. A desire is called "conscious" when it is accompanied +by a true belief as to the state of affairs that will bring quiescence; +otherwise it is called "unconscious." All primitive desire is +unconscious, and in human beings beliefs as to the purposes of desires +are often mistaken. These mistaken beliefs generate secondary desires, +which cause various interesting complications in the psychology of human +desire, without fundamentally altering the character which it shares +with animal desire. + + + + +LECTURE IV. INFLUENCE OF PAST HISTORY ON PRESENT OCCURRENCES IN LIVING +ORGANISMS + +In this lecture we shall be concerned with a very general characteristic +which broadly, though not absolutely, distinguishes the behaviour +of living organisms from that of dead matter. The characteristic in +question is this: + +The response of an organism to a given stimulus is very often dependent +upon the past history of the organism, and not merely upon the stimulus +and the HITHERTO DISCOVERABLE present state of the organism. + +This characteristic is embodied in the saying "a burnt child fears the +fire." The burn may have left no visible traces, yet it modifies the +reaction of the child in the presence of fire. It is customary to assume +that, in such cases, the past operates by modifying the structure of the +brain, not directly. I have no wish to suggest that this hypothesis is +false; I wish only to point out that it is a hypothesis. At the end of +the present lecture I shall examine the grounds in its favour. If we +confine ourselves to facts which have been actually observed, we must +say that past occurrences, in addition to the present stimulus and +the present ascertainable condition of the organism, enter into the +causation of the response. + +The characteristic is not wholly confined to living organisms. For +example, magnetized steel looks just like steel which has not been +magnetized, but its behaviour is in some ways different. In the case +of dead matter, however, such phenomena are less frequent and important +than in the case of living organisms, and it is far less difficult +to invent satisfactory hypotheses as to the microscopic changes of +structure which mediate between the past occurrence and the present +changed response. In the case of living organisms, practically +everything that is distinctive both of their physical and of their +mental behaviour is bound up with this persistent influence of the past. +Further, speaking broadly, the change in response is usually of a kind +that is biologically advantageous to the organism. + +Following a suggestion derived from Semon ("Die Mneme," Leipzig, 1904; +2nd edition, 1908, English translation, Allen & Unwin, 1921; "Die +mnemischen Empfindungen," Leipzig, 1909), we will give the name of +"mnemic phenomena" to those responses of an organism which, so far as +hitherto observed facts are concerned, can only be brought under causal +laws by including past occurrences in the history of the organism as +part of the causes of the present response. I do not mean merely--what +would always be the case--that past occurrences are part of a CHAIN of +causes leading to the present event. I mean that, in attempting to state +the PROXIMATE cause of the present event, some past event or events +must be included, unless we take refuge in hypothetical modifications of +brain structure. For example: you smell peat-smoke, and you recall some +occasion when you smelt it before. The cause of your recollection, so +far as hitherto observable phenomena are concerned, consists both +of the peat smoke (present stimulus) and of the former occasion (past +experience). The same stimulus will not produce the same recollection +in another man who did not share your former experience, although the +former experience left no OBSERVABLE traces in the structure of the +brain. According to the maxim "same cause, same effect," we cannot +therefore regard the peat-smoke alone as the cause of your recollection, +since it does not have the same effect in other cases. The cause of +your recollection must be both the peat-smoke and the past occurrence. +Accordingly your recollection is an instance of what we are calling +"mnemic phenomena." + +Before going further, it will be well to give illustrations of different +classes of mnemic phenomena. + +(a) ACQUIRED HABITS.--In Lecture II we saw how animals can learn by +experience how to get out of cages or mazes, or perform other actions +which are useful to them but not provided for by their instincts alone. +A cat which is put into a cage of which it has had experience behaves +differently from the way in which it behaved at first. We can easily +invent hypotheses, which are quite likely to be true, as to connections +in the brain caused by past experience, and themselves causing the +different response. But the observable fact is that the stimulus of +being in the cage produces differing results with repetition, and that +the ascertainable cause of the cat's behaviour is not merely the cage +and its own ascertainable organization, but also its past history +in regard to the cage. From our present point of view, the matter is +independent of the question whether the cat's behaviour is due to some +mental fact called "knowledge," or displays a merely bodily habit. Our +habitual knowledge is not always in our minds, but is called up by the +appropriate stimuli. If we are asked "What is the capital of France?" +we answer "Paris," because of past experience; the past experience is as +essential as the present question in the causation of our response. Thus +all our habitual knowledge consists of acquired habits, and comes under +the head of mnemic phenomena. + +(b) IMAGES.--I shall have much to say about images in a later lecture; +for the present I am merely concerned with them in so far as they are +"copies" of past sensations. When you hear New York spoken of, some +image probably comes into your mind, either of the place itself (if you +have been there), or of some picture of it (if you have not). The image +is due to your past experience, as well as to the present stimulus of +the words "New York." Similarly, the images you have in dreams are +all dependent upon your past experience, as well as upon the present +stimulus to dreaming. It is generally believed that all images, in their +simpler parts, are copies of sensations; if so, their mnemic character +is evident. This is important, not only on its own account, but also +because, as we shall see later, images play an essential part in what is +called "thinking." + +(c) ASSOCIATION.--The broad fact of association, on the mental side, is +that when we experience something which we have experienced before, +it tends to call up the context of the former experience. The smell of +peat-smoke recalling a former scene is an instance which we discussed a +moment ago. This is obviously a mnemic phenomenon. There is also a more +purely physical association, which is indistinguishable from physical +habit. This is the kind studied by Mr. Thorndike in animals, where a +certain stimulus is associated with a certain act. This is the sort +which is taught to soldiers in drilling, for example. In such a case +there need not be anything mental, but merely a habit of the body. +There is no essential distinction between association and habit, and the +observations which we made concerning habit as a mnemic phenomenon are +equally applicable to association. + +(d) NON-SENSATIONAL ELEMENTS IN PERCEPTION.--When we perceive any object +of a familiar kind, much of what appears subjectively to be immediately +given is really derived from past experience. When we see an object, say +a penny, we seem to be aware of its "real" shape we have the impression +of something circular, not of something elliptical. In learning to draw, +it is necessary to acquire the art of representing things according +to the sensation, not according to the perception. And the visual +appearance is filled out with feeling of what the object would be like +to touch, and so on. This filling out and supplying of the "real" shape +and so on consists of the most usual correlates of the sensational core +in our perception. It may happen that, in the particular case, the real +correlates are unusual; for example, if what we are seeing is a +carpet made to look like tiles. If so, the non-sensational part of our +perception will be illusory, i.e. it will supply qualities which the +object in question does not in fact have. But as a rule objects do +have the qualities added by perception, which is to be expected, +since experience of what is usual is the cause of the addition. If our +experience had been different, we should not fill out sensation in +the same way, except in so far as the filling out is instinctive, +not acquired. It would seem that, in man, all that makes up space +perception, including the correlation of sight and touch and so on, is +almost entirely acquired. In that case there is a large mnemic element +in all the common perceptions by means of which we handle common +objects. And, to take another kind of instance, imagine what our +astonishment would be if we were to hear a cat bark or a dog mew. This +emotion would be dependent upon past experience, and would therefore be +a mnemic phenomenon according to the definition. + +(e) MEMORY AS KNOWLEDGE.--The kind of memory of which I am now speaking +is definite knowledge of some past event in one's own experience. +From time to time we remember things that have happened to us, because +something in the present reminds us of them. Exactly the same present +fact would not call up the same memory if our past experience had been +different. Thus our remembering is caused by-- + +(1) The present stimulus, + +(2) The past occurrence. + +It is therefore a mnemic phenomenon according to our definition. A +definition of "mnemic phenomena" which did not include memory would, +of course, be a bad one. The point of the definition is not that it +includes memory, but that it includes it as one of a class of phenomena +which embrace all that is characteristic in the subject matter of +psychology. + +(f) EXPERIENCE.--The word "experience" is often used very vaguely. +James, as we saw, uses it to cover the whole primal stuff of the world, +but this usage seems objection able, since, in a purely physical world, +things would happen without there being any experience. It is only +mnemic phenomena that embody experience. We may say that an animal +"experiences" an occurrence when this occurrence modifies the animal's +subsequent behaviour, i.e. when it is the mnemic portion of the cause of +future occurrences in the animal's life. The burnt child that fears the +fire has "experienced" the fire, whereas a stick that has been thrown on +and taken off again has not "experienced" anything, since it offers +no more resistance than before to being thrown on. The essence of +"experience" is the modification of behaviour produced by what is +experienced. We might, in fact, define one chain of experience, or one +biography, as a series of occurrences linked by mnemic causation. I +think it is this characteristic, more than any other, that distinguishes +sciences dealing with living organisms from physics. + +The best writer on mnemic phenomena known to me is Richard Semon, the +fundamental part of whose theory I shall endeavour to summarize before +going further: + +When an organism, either animal or plant, is subjected to a stimulus, +producing in it some state of excitement, the removal of the stimulus +allows it to return to a condition of equilibrium. But the new state +of equilibrium is different from the old, as may be seen by the changed +capacity for reaction. The state of equilibrium before the stimulus may +be called the "primary indifference-state"; that after the cessation +of the stimulus, the "secondary indifference-state." We define the +"engraphic effect" of a stimulus as the effect in making a difference +between the primary and secondary indifference-states, and this +difference itself we define as the "engram" due to the stimulus. "Mnemic +phenomena" are defined as those due to engrams; in animals, they are +specially associated with the nervous system, but not exclusively, even +in man. + +When two stimuli occur together, one of them, occurring afterwards, +may call out the reaction for the other also. We call this an "ekphoric +influence," and stimuli having this character are called "ekphoric +stimuli." In such a case we call the engrams of the two stimuli +"associated." All simultaneously generated engrams are associated; there +is also association of successively aroused engrams, though this is +reducible to simultaneous association. In fact, it is not an isolated +stimulus that leaves an engram, but the totality of the stimuli at any +moment; consequently any portion of this totality tends, if it recurs, +to arouse the whole reaction which was aroused before. Semon holds that +engrams can be inherited, and that an animal's innate habits may be due +to the experience of its ancestors; on this subject he refers to Samuel +Butler. + +Semon formulates two "mnemic principles." The first, or "Law of +Engraphy," is as follows: "All simultaneous excitements in an organism +form a connected simultaneous excitement-complex, which as such works +engraphically, i.e. leaves behind a connected engram-complex, which +in so far forms a whole" ("Die mnemischen Empfindungen," p. 146). +The second mnemic principle, or "Law of Ekphory," is as follows: +"The partial return of the energetic situation which formerly worked +engraphically operates ekphorically on a simultaneous engram-complex" +(ib., p. 173). These two laws together represent in part a hypothesis +(the engram), and in part an observable fact. The observable fact is +that, when a certain complex of stimuli has originally caused a certain +complex of reactions, the recurrence of part of the stimuli tends to +cause the recurrence of the whole of the reactions. + +Semon's applications of his fundamental ideas in various directions are +interesting and ingenious. Some of them will concern us later, but for +the present it is the fundamental character of mnemic phenomena that is +in question. + +Concerning the nature of an engram, Semon confesses that at present it +is impossible to say more than that it must consist in some material +alteration in the body of the organism ("Die mnemischen Empfindungen," +p. 376). It is, in fact, hypothetical, invoked for theoretical uses, and +not an outcome of direct observation. No doubt physiology, especially +the disturbances of memory through lesions in the brain, affords grounds +for this hypothesis; nevertheless it does remain a hypothesis, the +validity of which will be discussed at the end of this lecture. + +I am inclined to think that, in the present state of physiology, the +introduction of the engram does not serve to simplify the account of +mnemic phenomena. We can, I think, formulate the known laws of such +phenomena in terms, wholly, of observable facts, by recognizing +provisionally what we may call "mnemic causation." By this I mean that +kind of causation of which I spoke at the beginning of this lecture, +that kind, namely, in which the proximate cause consists not merely of a +present event, but of this together with a past event. I do not wish to +urge that this form of causation is ultimate, but that, in the present +state of our knowledge, it affords a simplification, and enables us +to state laws of behaviour in less hypothetical terms than we should +otherwise have to employ. + +The clearest instance of what I mean is recollection of a past event. +What we observe is that certain present stimuli lead us to recollect +certain occurrences, but that at times when we are not recollecting +them, there is nothing discoverable in our minds that could be called +memory of them. Memories, as mental facts, arise from time to time, +but do not, so far as we can see, exist in any shape while they are +"latent." In fact, when we say that they are "latent," we mean merely +that they will exist under certain circumstances. If, then, there is +to be some standing difference between the person who can remember a +certain fact and the person who cannot, that standing difference must +be, not in anything mental, but in the brain. It is quite probable that +there is such a difference in the brain, but its nature is unknown and +it remains hypothetical. Everything that has, so far, been made matter +of observation as regards this question can be put together in the +statement: When a certain complex of sensations has occurred to a man, +the recurrence of part of the complex tends to arouse the recollection +of the whole. In like manner, we can collect all mnemic phenomena in +living organisms under a single law, which contains what is hitherto +verifiable in Semon's two laws. This single law is: + +IF A COMPLEX STIMULUS A HAS CAUSED A COMPLEX REACTION B IN AN ORGANISM, +THE OCCURRENCE OF A PART OF A ON A FUTURE OCCASION TENDS TO CAUSE THE +WHOLE REACTION B. + +This law would need to be supplemented by some account of the influence +of frequency, and so on; but it seems to contain the essential +characteristic of mnemic phenomena, without admixture of anything +hypothetical. + +Whenever the effect resulting from a stimulus to an organism differs +according to the past history of the organism, without our being able +actually to detect any relevant difference in its present structure, +we will speak of "mnemic causation," provided we can discover laws +embodying the influence of the past. In ordinary physical causation, +as it appears to common sense, we have approximate uniformities of +sequence, such as "lightning is followed by thunder," "drunkenness +is followed by headache," and so on. None of these sequences are +theoretically invariable, since something may intervene to disturb +them. In order to obtain invariable physical laws, we have to proceed to +differential equations, showing the direction of change at each moment, +not the integral change after a finite interval, however short. But +for the purposes of daily life many sequences are to all in tents and +purposes invariable. With the behaviour of human beings, however, this +is by no means the case. If you say to an Englishman, "You have a smut +on your nose," he will proceed to remove it, but there will be no such +effect if you say the same thing to a Frenchman who knows no English. +The effect of words upon the hearer is a mnemic phenomena, since it +depends upon the past experience which gave him understanding of the +words. If there are to be purely psychological causal laws, taking no +account of the brain and the rest of the body, they will have to be of +the form, not "X now causes Y now," but-- + +"A, B, C,... in the past, together with X now, cause Y now." For it +cannot be successfully maintained that our understanding of a word, for +example, is an actual existent content of the mind at times when we +are not thinking of the word. It is merely what may be called a +"disposition," i.e. it is capable of being aroused whenever we hear the +word or happen to think of it. A "disposition" is not something actual, +but merely the mnemic portion of a mnemic causal law. + +In such a law as "A, B, C,... in the past, together with X now, cause +Y now," we will call A, B, C,... the mnemic cause, X the occasion or +stimulus, and Y the reaction. All cases in which experience influences +behaviour are instances of mnemic causation. + +Believers in psycho-physical parallelism hold that psychology can +theoretically be freed entirely from all dependence on physiology or +physics. That is to say, they believe that every psychical event has +a psychical cause and a physical concomitant. If there is to be +parallelism, it is easy to prove by mathematical logic that the +causation in physical and psychical matters must be of the same sort, +and it is impossible that mnemic causation should exist in psychology +but not in physics. But if psychology is to be independent of +physiology, and if physiology can be reduced to physics, it would seem +that mnemic causation is essential in psychology. Otherwise we shall be +compelled to believe that all our knowledge, all our store of images +and memories, all our mental habits, are at all times existing in some +latent mental form, and are not merely aroused by the stimuli which lead +to their display. This is a very difficult hypothesis. It seems to me +that if, as a matter of method rather than metaphysics, we desire to +obtain as much independence for psychology as is practically feasible, +we shall do better to accept mnemic causation in psychology protem, +and therefore reject parallelism, since there is no good ground for +admitting mnemic causation in physics. + +It is perhaps worth while to observe that mnemic causation is what led +Bergson to deny that there is causation at all in the psychical sphere. +He points out, very truly, that the same stimulus, repeated, does not +have the same consequences, and he argues that this is contrary to the +maxim, "same cause, same effect." It is only necessary, however, to take +account of past occurrences and include them with the cause, in order +to re-establish the maxim, and the possibility of psychological causal +laws. The metaphysical conception of a cause lingers in our manner of +viewing causal laws: we want to be able to FEEL a connection between +cause and effect, and to be able to imagine the cause as "operating." +This makes us unwilling to regard causal laws as MERELY observed +uniformities of sequence; yet that is all that science has to offer. +To ask why such-and-such a kind of sequence occurs is either to ask a +meaningless question, or to demand some more general kind of sequence +which includes the one in question. The widest empirical laws of +sequence known at any time can only be "explained" in the sense of being +subsumed by later discoveries under wider laws; but these wider laws, +until they in turn are subsumed, will remain brute facts, resting solely +upon observation, not upon some supposed inherent rationality. + +There is therefore no a priori objection to a causal law in which part +of the cause has ceased to exist. To argue against such a law on the +ground that what is past cannot operate now, is to introduce the old +metaphysical notion of cause, for which science can find no place. The +only reason that could be validly alleged against mnemic causation would +be that, in fact, all the phenomena can be explained without it. They +are explained without it by Semon's "engram," or by any theory which +regards the results of experience as embodied in modifications of +the brain and nerves. But they are not explained, unless with extreme +artificiality, by any theory which regards the latent effects of +experience as psychical rather than physical. Those who desire to make +psychology as far as possible independent of physiology would do well, +it seems to me, if they adopted mnemic causation. For my part, however, +I have no such desire, and I shall therefore endeavour to state the +grounds which occur to me in favour of some such view as that of the +"engram." + +One of the first points to be urged is that mnemic phenomena are just +as much to be found in physiology as in psychology. They are even to +be found in plants, as Sir Francis Darwin pointed out (cf. Semon, "Die +Mneme," 2nd edition, p. 28 n.). Habit is a characteristic of the body +at least as much as of the mind. We should, therefore, be compelled +to allow the intrusion of mnemic causation, if admitted at all, into +non-psychological regions, which ought, one feels, to be subject only to +causation of the ordinary physical sort. The fact is that a great deal +of what, at first sight, distinguishes psychology from physics is found, +on examination, to be common to psychology and physiology; this whole +question of the influence of experience is a case in point. Now it +is possible, of course, to take the view advocated by Professor J. S. +Haldane, who contends that physiology is not theoretically reducible to +physics and chemistry.* But the weight of opinion among physiologists +appears to be against him on this point; and we ought certainly to +require very strong evidence before admitting any such breach of +continuity as between living and dead matter. The argument from the +existence of mnemic phenomena in physiology must therefore be allowed a +certain weight against the hypothesis that mnemic causation is ultimate. + + * See his "The New Physiology and Other Addresses," Griffin, + 1919, also the symposium, "Are Physical, Biological and + Psychological Categories Irreducible?" in "Life and Finite + Individuality," edited for the Aristotelian Society, with an + Introduction. By H. Wildon Carr, Williams & Norgate, 1918. + +The argument from the connection of brain-lesions with loss of memory is +not so strong as it looks, though it has also, some weight. What we +know is that memory, and mnemic phenomena generally, can be disturbed or +destroyed by changes in the brain. This certainly proves that the brain +plays an essential part in the causation of memory, but does not prove +that a certain state of the brain is, by itself, a sufficient condition +for the existence of memory. Yet it is this last that has to be proved. +The theory of the engram, or any similar theory, has to maintain that, +given a body and brain in a suitable state, a man will have a certain +memory, without the need of any further conditions. What is known, +however, is only that he will not have memories if his body and brain +are not in a suitable state. That is to say, the appropriate state +of body and brain is proved to be necessary for memory, but not to be +sufficient. So far, therefore, as our definite knowledge goes, memory +may require for its causation a past occurrence as well as a certain +present state of the brain. + +In order to prove conclusively that mnemic phenomena arise whenever +certain physiological conditions are fulfilled, we ought to be able +actually to see differences between the brain of a man who speaks +English and that of a man who speaks French, between the brain of a man +who has seen New York and can recall it, and that of a man who has never +seen that city. It may be that the time will come when this will be +possible, but at present we are very far removed from it. At present, +there is, so far as I am aware, no good evidence that every difference +between the knowledge possessed by A and that possessed by B is +paralleled by some difference in their brains. We may believe that +this is the case, but if we do, our belief is based upon analogies +and general scientific maxims, not upon any foundation of detailed +observation. I am myself inclined, as a working hypothesis, to adopt +the belief in question, and to hold that past experience only affects +present behaviour through modifications of physiological structure. But +the evidence seems not quite conclusive, so that I do not think we ought +to forget the other hypothesis, or to reject entirely the possibility +that mnemic causation may be the ultimate explanation of mnemic +phenomena. I say this, not because I think it LIKELY that mnemic +causation is ultimate, but merely because I think it POSSIBLE, and +because it often turns out important to the progress of science to +remember hypotheses which have previously seemed improbable. + + + + +LECTURE V. PSYCHOLOGICAL AND PHYSICAL CAUSAL LAWS + +The traditional conception of cause and effect is one which modern +science shows to be fundamentally erroneous, and requiring to be +replaced by a quite different notion, that of LAWS OF CHANGE. In the +traditional conception, a particular event A caused a particular event +B, and by this it was implied that, given any event B, some earlier +event A could be discovered which had a relation to it, such that-- + +(1) Whenever A occurred, it was followed by B; + +(2) In this sequence, there was something "necessary," not a mere de +facto occurrence of A first and then B. + +The second point is illustrated by the old discussion as to whether +it can be said that day causes night, on the ground that day is always +followed by night. The orthodox answer was that day could not be called +the cause of night, because it would not be followed by night if the +earth's rotation were to cease, or rather to grow so slow that one +complete rotation would take a year. A cause, it was held, must be such +that under no conceivable circumstances could it fail to be followed by +its effect. + +As a matter of fact, such sequences as were sought by believers in the +traditional form of causation have not so far been found in nature. +Everything in nature is apparently in a state of continuous change,* so +that what we call one "event" turns out to be really a process. If this +event is to cause another event, the two will have to be contiguous in +time; for if there is any interval between them, something may happen +during that interval to prevent the expected effect. Cause and effect, +therefore, will have to be temporally contiguous processes. It is +difficult to believe, at any rate where physical laws are concerned, +that the earlier part of the process which is the cause can make any +difference to the effect, so long as the later part of the process which +is the cause remains unchanged. Suppose, for example, that a man dies +of arsenic poisoning, we say that his taking arsenic was the cause +of death. But clearly the process by which he acquired the arsenic +is irrelevant: everything that happened before he swallowed it may be +ignored, since it cannot alter the effect except in so far as it alters +his condition at the moment of taking the dose. But we may go further: +swallowing arsenic is not really the proximate cause of death, since a +man might be shot through the head immediately after taking the dose, +and then it would not be of arsenic that he would die. The arsenic +produces certain physiological changes, which take a finite time before +they end in death. The earlier parts of these changes can be ruled out +in the same way as we can rule out the process by which the arsenic was +acquired. Proceeding in this way, we can shorten the process which we +are calling the cause more and more. Similarly we shall have to shorten +the effect. It may happen that immediately after the man's death his +body is blown to pieces by a bomb. We cannot say what will happen after +the man's death, through merely knowing that he has died as the result +of arsenic poisoning. Thus, if we are to take the cause as one event and +the effect as another, both must be shortened indefinitely. The result +is that we merely have, as the embodiment of our causal law, a certain +direction of change at each moment. Hence we are brought to differential +equations as embodying causal laws. A physical law does not say "A will +be followed by B," but tells us what acceleration a particle will have +under given circumstances, i.e. it tells us how the particle's motion is +changing at each moment, not where the particle will be at some future +moment. + + * The theory of quanta suggests that the continuity is only + apparent. If so, we shall be able theoretically to reach + events which are not processes. But in what is directly + observable there is still apparent continuity, which + justifies the above remarks for the prevent. + +Laws embodied in differential equations may possibly be exact, +but cannot be known to be so. All that we can know empirically is +approximate and liable to exceptions; the exact laws that are assumed in +physics are known to be somewhere near the truth, but are not known to +be true just as they stand. The laws that we actually know empirically +have the form of the traditional causal laws, except that they are not +to be regarded as universal or necessary. "Taking arsenic is followed by +death" is a good empirical generalization; it may have exceptions, but +they will be rare. As against the professedly exact laws of physics, +such empirical generalizations have the advantage that they deal with +observable phenomena. We cannot observe infinitesimals, whether in time +or space; we do not even know whether time and space are infinitely +divisible. Therefore rough empirical generalizations have a definite +place in science, in spite of not being exact of universal. They are the +data for more exact laws, and the grounds for believing that they are +USUALLY true are stronger than the grounds for believing that the more +exact laws are ALWAYS true. + +Science starts, therefore, from generalizations of the form, "A is +usually followed by B." This is the nearest approach that can be made +to a causal law of the traditional sort. It may happen in any particular +instance that A is ALWAYS followed by B, but we cannot know this, since +we cannot foresee all the perfectly possible circumstances that might +make the sequence fail, or know that none of them will actually occur. +If, however, we know of a very large number of cases in which A is +followed by B, and few or none in which the sequence fails, we shall in +PRACTICE be justified in saying "A causes B," provided we do not attach +to the notion of cause any of the metaphysical superstitions that have +gathered about the word. + +There is another point, besides lack of universality and necessity, +which it is important to realize as regards causes in the above sense, +and that is the lack of uniqueness. It is generally assumed that, given +any event, there is some one phenomenon which is THE cause of the event +in question. This seems to be a mere mistake. Cause, in the only +sense in which it can be practically applied, means "nearly invariable +antecedent." We cannot in practice obtain an antecedent which is QUITE +invariable, for this would require us to take account of the whole +universe, since something not taken account of may prevent the expected +effect. We cannot distinguish, among nearly invariable antecedents, one +as THE cause, and the others as merely its concomitants: the attempt to +do this depends upon a notion of cause which is derived from will, and +will (as we shall see later) is not at all the sort of thing that it is +generally supposed to be, nor is there any reason to think that in the +physical world there is anything even remotely analogous to what will is +supposed to be. If we could find one antecedent, and only one, that was +QUITE invariable, we could call that one THE cause without introducing +any notion derived from mistaken ideas about will. But in fact we cannot +find any antecedent that we know to be quite invariable, and we can find +many that are nearly so. For example, men leave a factory for dinner +when the hooter sounds at twelve o'clock. You may say the hooter is +THE cause of their leaving. But innumerable other hooters in other +factories, which also always sound at twelve o'clock, have just as +good a right to be called the cause. Thus every event has many nearly +invariable antecedents, and therefore many antecedents which may be +called its cause. + +The laws of traditional physics, in the form in which they deal with +movements of matter or electricity, have an apparent simplicity which +somewhat conceals the empirical character of what they assert. A piece +of matter, as it is known empirically, is not a single existing thing, +but a system of existing things. When several people simultaneously see +the same table, they all see something different; therefore "the" table, +which they are supposed all to see, must be either a hypothesis or +a construction. "The" table is to be neutral as between different +observers: it does not favour the aspect seen by one man at the expense +of that seen by another. It was natural, though to my mind mistaken, to +regard the "real" table as the common cause of all the appearances which +the table presents (as we say) to different observers. But why should we +suppose that there is some one common cause of all these appearances? As +we have just seen, the notion of "cause" is not so reliable as to allow +us to infer the existence of something that, by its very nature, can +never be observed. + +Instead of looking for an impartial source, we can secure neutrality by +the equal representation of all parties. Instead of supposing that there +is some unknown cause, the "real" table, behind the different sensations +of those who are said to be looking at the table, we may take the +whole set of these sensations (together possibly with certain other +particulars) as actually BEING the table. That is to say, the table +which is neutral as between different observers (actual and possible) +is the set of all those particulars which would naturally be called +"aspects" of the table from different points of view. (This is a first +approximation, modified later.) + +It may be said: If there is no single existent which is the source of +all these "aspects," how are they collected together? The answer is +simple: Just as they would be if there were such a single existent. The +supposed "real" table underlying its appearances is, in any case, not +itself perceived, but inferred, and the question whether such-and-such +a particular is an "aspect" of this table is only to be settled by +the connection of the particular in question with the one or more +particulars by which the table is defined. That is to say, even if we +assume a "real" table, the particulars which are its aspects have to be +collected together by their relations to each other, not to it, since +it is merely inferred from them. We have only, therefore, to notice how +they are collected together, and we can then keep the collection +without assuming any "real" table as distinct from the collection. When +different people see what they call the same table, they see things +which are not exactly the same, owing to difference of point of view, +but which are sufficiently alike to be described in the same words, so +long as no great accuracy or minuteness is sought. These closely similar +particulars are collected together by their similarity primarily +and, more correctly, by the fact that they are related to each other +approximately according to the laws of perspective and of reflection and +diffraction of light. I suggest, as a first approximation, that these +particulars, together with such correlated others as are unperceived, +jointly ARE the table; and that a similar definition applies to all +physical objects.* + + *See "Our Knowledge of the External World" (Allen & Unwin), + chaps. iii and iv. + +In order to eliminate the reference to our perceptions, which introduces +an irrelevant psychological suggestion, I will take a different +illustration, namely, stellar photography. A photographic plate exposed +on a clear night reproduces the appearance of the portion of the sky +concerned, with more or fewer stars according to the power of the +telescope that is being used. Each separate star which is photographed +produces its separate effect on the plate, just as it would upon +ourselves if we were looking at the sky. If we assume, as science +normally does, the continuity of physical processes, we are forced +to conclude that, at the place where the plate is, and at all places +between it and a star which it photographs, SOMETHING is happening which +is specially connected with that star. In the days when the aether was +less in doubt, we should have said that what was happening was a certain +kind of transverse vibration in the aether. But it is not necessary +or desirable to be so explicit: all that we need say is that SOMETHING +happens which is specially connected with the star in question. It +must be something specially connected with that star, since that star +produces its own special effect upon the plate. Whatever it is must be +the end of a process which starts from the star and radiates outwards, +partly on general grounds of continuity, partly to account for the fact +that light is transmitted with a certain definite velocity. We thus +arrive at the conclusion that, if a certain star is visible at a certain +place, or could be photographed by a sufficiently sensitive plate at +that place, something is happening there which is specially connected +with that star. Therefore in every place at all times a vast multitude +of things must be happening, namely, at least one for every physical +object which can be seen or photographed from that place. We can +classify such happenings on either of two principles: + +(1) We can collect together all the happenings in one place, as is done +by photography so far as light is concerned; + +(2) We can collect together all the happenings, in different places, +which are connected in the way that common sense regards as being due to +their emanating from one object. + +Thus, to return to the stars, we can collect together either-- + +(1) All the appearances of different stars in a given place, or, + +(2) All the appearances of a given star in different places. + +But when I speak of "appearances," I do so only for brevity: I do not +mean anything that must "appear" to somebody, but only that happening, +whatever it may be, which is connected, at the place in question, with a +given physical object--according to the old orthodox theory, it would be +a transverse vibration in the aether. Like the different appearances +of the table to a number of simultaneous observers, the different +particulars that belong to one physical object are to be collected +together by continuity and inherent laws of correlation, not by their +supposed causal connection with an unknown assumed existent called a +piece of matter, which would be a mere unnecessary metaphysical thing in +itself. A piece of matter, according to the definition that I propose, +is, as a first approximation,* the collection of all those correlated +particulars which would normally be regarded as its appearances or +effects in different places. Some further elaborations are desirable, +but we can ignore them for the present. I shall return to them at the +end of this lecture. + + *The exact definition of a piece of matter as a construction + will be given later. + +According to the view that I am suggesting, a physical object or piece +of matter is the collection of all those correlated particulars which +would be regarded by common sense as its effects or appearances in +different places. On the other hand, all the happenings in a given place +represent what common sense would regard as the appearances of a number +of different objects as viewed from that place. All the happenings in +one place may be regarded as the view of the world from that place. I +shall call the view of the world from a given place a "perspective." A +photograph represents a perspective. On the other hand, if photographs +of the stars were taken in all points throughout space, and in all such +photographs a certain star, say Sirius, were picked out whenever it +appeared, all the different appearances of Sirius, taken together, +would represent Sirius. For the understanding of the difference between +psychology and physics it is vital to understand these two ways of +classifying particulars, namely: + +(1) According to the place where they occur; + +(2) According to the system of correlated particulars in different +places to which they belong, such system being defined as a physical +object. + +Given a system of particulars which is a physical object, I shall +define that one of the system which is in a given place (if any) as the +"appearance of that object in that place." + +When the appearance of an object in a given place changes, it is found +that one or other of two things occurs. The two possibilities may be +illustrated by an example. You are in a room with a man, whom you see: +you may cease to see him either by shutting your eyes or by his going +out of the room. In the first case, his appearance to other people +remains unchanged; in the second, his appearance changes from all +places. In the first case, you say that it is not he who has changed, +but your eyes; in the second, you say that he has changed. Generalizing, +we distinguish-- + +(1) Cases in which only certain appearances of the object change, while +others, and especially appearances from places very near to the object, +do not change; + +(2) Cases where all, or almost all, the appearances of the object +undergo a connected change. + +In the first case, the change is attributed to the medium between the +object and the place; in the second, it is attributed to the object +itself.* + + * The application of this distinction to motion raises + complications due to relativity, but we may ignore these for + our present purposes. + +It is the frequency of the latter kind of change, and the comparatively +simple nature of the laws governing the simultaneous alterations +of appearances in such cases, that have made it possible to treat a +physical object as one thing, and to overlook the fact that it is a +system of particulars. When a number of people at a theatre watch an +actor, the changes in their several perspectives are so similar and so +closely correlated that all are popularly regarded as identical with +each other and with the changes of the actor himself. So long as all +the changes in the appearances of a body are thus correlated there is no +pressing prima facie need to break up the system of appearances, or to +realize that the body in question is not really one thing but a set of +correlated particulars. It is especially and primarily such changes that +physics deals with, i.e. it deals primarily with processes in which +the unity of a physical object need not be broken up because all its +appearances change simultaneously according to the same law--or, if not +all, at any rate all from places sufficiently near to the object, with +in creasing accuracy as we approach the object. + +The changes in appearances of an object which are due to changes in the +intervening medium will not affect, or will affect only very slightly, +the appearances from places close to the object. If the appearances +from sufficiently neighbouring places are either wholly un changed, +or changed to a diminishing extent which has zero for its limit, it +is usually found that the changes can be accounted for by changes in +objects which are between the object in question and the places from +which its appearance has changed appreciably. Thus physics is able +to reduce the laws of most changes with which it deals to changes in +physical objects, and to state most of its fundamental laws in terms of +matter. It is only in those cases in which the unity of the system of +appearances constituting a piece of matter has to be broken up, that the +statement of what is happening cannot be made exclusively in terms of +matter. The whole of psychology, we shall find, is included among such +cases; hence their importance for our purposes. + +We can now begin to understand one of the fundamental differences +between physics and psychology. Physics treats as a unit the whole +system of appearances of a piece of matter, whereas psychology is +interested in certain of these appearances themselves. Confining +ourselves for the moment to the psychology of perceptions, we observe +that perceptions are certain of the appearances of physical objects. +From the point of view that we have been hitherto adopting, we +might define them as the appearances of objects at places from which +sense-organs and the suitable parts of the nervous system form part +of the intervening medium. Just as a photographic plate receives a +different impression of a cluster of stars when a telescope is part of +the intervening medium, so a brain receives a different impression +when an eye and an optic nerve are part of the intervening medium. +An impression due to this sort of intervening medium is called a +perception, and is interesting to psychology on its own account, not +merely as one of the set of correlated particulars which is the physical +object of which (as we say) we are having a perception. + +We spoke earlier of two ways of classifying particulars. One way +collects together the appearances commonly regarded as a given object +from different places; this is, broadly speaking, the way of physics, +leading to the construction of physical objects as sets of such +appearances. The other way collects together the appearances of +different objects from a given place, the result being what we call a +perspective. In the particular case where the place concerned is a +human brain, the perspective belonging to the place consists of all the +perceptions of a certain man at a given time. Thus classification by +perspectives is relevant to psychology, and is essential in defining +what we mean by one mind. + +I do not wish to suggest that the way in which I have been defining +perceptions is the only possible way, or even the best way. It is the +way that arose naturally out of our present topic. But when we approach +psychology from a more introspective standpoint, we have to distinguish +sensations and perceptions, if possible, from other mental occurrences, +if any. We have also to consider the psychological effects of +sensations, as opposed to their physical causes and correlates. These +problems are quite distinct from those with which we have been concerned +in the present lecture, and I shall not deal with them until a later +stage. + +It is clear that psychology is concerned essentially with actual +particulars, not merely with systems of particulars. In this it differs +from physics, which, broadly speaking, is concerned with the cases +in which all the particulars which make up one physical object can be +treated as a single causal unit, or rather the particulars which are +sufficiently near to the object of which they are appearances can be so +treated. The laws which physics seeks can, broadly speaking, be stated +by treating such systems of particulars as causal units. The laws which +psychology seeks cannot be so stated, since the particulars themselves +are what interests the psychologist. This is one of the fundamental +differences between physics and psychology; and to make it clear has +been the main purpose of this lecture. + +I will conclude with an attempt to give a more precise definition of +a piece of matter. The appearances of a piece of matter from different +places change partly according to intrinsic laws (the laws of +perspective, in the case of visual shape), partly according to the +nature of the intervening medium--fog, blue spectacles, telescopes, +microscopes, sense-organs, etc. As we approach nearer to the object, the +effect of the intervening medium grows less. In a generalized sense, +all the intrinsic laws of change of appearance may be called "laws +of perspective." Given any appearance of an object, we can construct +hypothetically a certain system of appearances to which the appearance +in question would belong if the laws of perspective alone were +concerned. If we construct this hypothetical system for each appearance +of the object in turn, the system corresponding to a given appearance +x will be independent of any distortion due to the medium beyond x, and +will only embody such distortion as is due to the medium between x and +the object. Thus, as the appearance by which our hypothetical system +is defined is moved nearer and nearer to the object, the hypothetical +system of appearances defined by its means embodies less and less of the +effect of the medium. The different sets of appearances resulting from +moving x nearer and nearer to the object will approach to a limiting +set, and this limiting set will be that system of appearances which the +object would present if the laws of perspective alone were operative +and the medium exercised no distorting effect. This limiting set of +appearances may be defined, for purposes of physics, as the piece of +matter concerned. + + + + +LECTURE VI. INTROSPECTION + +One of the main purposes of these lectures is to give grounds for +the belief that the distinction between mind and matter is not so +fundamental as is commonly supposed. In the preceding lecture I dealt in +outline with the physical side of this problem. I attempted to show +that what we call a material object is not itself a substance, but is +a system of particulars analogous in their nature to sensations, and in +fact often including actual sensations among their number. In this +way the stuff of which physical objects are composed is brought into +relation with the stuff of which part, at least, of our mental life is +composed. + +There is, however, a converse task which is equally necessary for our +thesis, and that is, to show that the stuff of our mental life is devoid +of many qualities which it is commonly supposed to have, and is not +possessed of any attributes which make it incapable of forming part of +the world of matter. In the present lecture I shall begin the arguments +for this view. + +Corresponding to the supposed duality of matter and mind, there are, in +orthodox psychology, two ways of knowing what exists. One of these, the +way of sensation and external perception, is supposed to furnish data +for our knowledge of matter, the other, called "introspection," is +supposed to furnish data for knowledge of our mental processes. To +common sense, this distinction seems clear and easy. When you see a +friend coming along the street, you acquire knowledge of an external, +physical fact; when you realize that you are glad to meet him, you +acquire knowledge of a mental fact. Your dreams and memories and +thoughts, of which you are often conscious, are mental facts, and the +process by which you become aware of them SEEMS to be different from +sensation. Kant calls it the "inner sense"; sometimes it is spoken of +as "consciousness of self"; but its commonest name in modern English +psychology is "introspection." It is this supposed method of acquiring +knowledge of our mental processes that I wish to analyse and examine in +this lecture. + +I will state at the outset the view which I shall aim at establishing. +I believe that the stuff of our mental life, as opposed to its relations +and structure, consists wholly of sensations and images. Sensations are +connected with matter in the way that I tried to explain in Lecture V, +i.e. each is a member of a system which is a certain physical object. +Images, though they USUALLY have certain characteristics, especially +lack of vividness, that distinguish them from sensations, are not +INVARIABLY so distinguished, and cannot therefore be defined by these +characteristics. Images, as opposed to sensations, can only be defined +by their different causation: they are caused by association with a +sensation, not by a stimulus external to the nervous system--or perhaps +one should say external to the brain, where the higher animals are +concerned. The occurrence of a sensation or image does not in itself +constitute knowledge but any sensation or image may come to be known +if the conditions are suitable. When a sensation--like the hearing of a +clap of thunder--is normally correlated with closely similar sensations +in our neighbours, we regard it as giving knowledge of the external +world, since we regard the whole set of similar sensations as due to +a common external cause. But images and bodily sensations are not so +correlated. Bodily sensations can be brought into a correlation by +physiology, and thus take their place ultimately among sources of +knowledge of the physical world. But images cannot be made to fit in +with the simultaneous sensations and images of others. Apart from their +hypothetical causes in the brain, they have a causal connection +with physical objects, through the fact that they are copies of past +sensations; but the physical objects with which they are thus connected +are in the past, not in the present. These images remain private in +a sense in which sensations are not. A sensation SEEMS to give us +knowledge of a present physical object, while an image does not, except +when it amounts to a hallucination, and in this case the seeming is +deceptive. Thus the whole context of the two occurrences is different. +But in themselves they do not differ profoundly, and there is no reason +to invoke two different ways of knowing for the one and for the other. +Consequently introspection as a separate kind of knowledge disappears. + +The criticism of introspection has been in the main the work of American +psychologists. I will begin by summarizing an article which seems to me +to afford a good specimen of their arguments, namely, "The Case against +Introspection," by Knight Dunlap ("Psychological Review," vol xix, No. +5, pp. 404-413, September, 1912). After a few historical quotations, +he comes to two modern defenders of introspection, Stout and James. He +quotes from Stout such statements as the following: "Psychical states as +such become objects only when we attend to them in an introspective way. +Otherwise they are not themselves objects, but only constituents of the +process by which objects are recognized" ("Manual," 2nd edition, p. 134. +The word "recognized" in Dunlap's quotation should be "cognized.") "The +object itself can never be identified with the present modification of +the individual's consciousness by which it is cognized" (ib. p. 60). +This is to be true even when we are thinking about modifications of +our own consciousness; such modifications are to be always at least +partially distinct from the conscious experience in which we think of +them. + +At this point I wish to interrupt the account of Knight Dunlap's article +in order to make some observations on my own account with reference to +the above quotations from Stout. In the first place, the conception of +"psychical states" seems to me one which demands analysis of a somewhat +destructive character. This analysis I shall give in later lectures as +regards cognition; I have already given it as regards desire. In the +second place, the conception of "objects" depends upon a certain view +as to cognition which I believe to be wholly mistaken, namely, the view +which I discussed in my first lecture in connection with Brentano. +In this view a single cognitive occurrence contains both content and +object, the content being essentially mental, while the object is +physical except in introspection and abstract thought. I have already +criticized this view, and will not dwell upon it now, beyond saying +that "the process by which objects are cognized" appears to be a very +slippery phrase. When we "see a table," as common sense would say, the +table as a physical object is not the "object" (in the psychological +sense) of our perception. Our perception is made up of sensations, +images and beliefs, but the supposed "object" is something inferential, +externally related, not logically bound up with what is occurring in us. +This question of the nature of the object also affects the view we take +of self-consciousness. Obviously, a "conscious experience" is different +from a physical object; therefore it is natural to assume that a thought +or perception whose object is a conscious experience must be different +from a thought or perception whose object is a physical object. But if +the relation to the object is inferential and external, as I maintain, +the difference between two thoughts may bear very little relation to +the difference between their objects. And to speak of "the present +modification of the individual's consciousness by which an object is +cognized" is to suggest that the cognition of objects is a far more +direct process, far more intimately bound up with the objects, than I +believe it to be. All these points will be amplified when we come to the +analysis of knowledge, but it is necessary briefly to state them now in +order to suggest the atmosphere in which our analysis of "introspection" +is to be carried on. + +Another point in which Stout's remarks seem to me to suggest what I +regard as mistakes is his use of "consciousness." There is a view which +is prevalent among psychologists, to the effect that one can speak of "a +conscious experience" in a curious dual sense, meaning, on the one hand, +an experience which is conscious of something, and, on the other hand, +an experience which has some intrinsic nature characteristic of what +is called "consciousness." That is to say, a "conscious experience" is +characterized on the one hand by relation to its object and on the +other hand by being composed of a certain peculiar stuff, the stuff of +"consciousness." And in many authors there is yet a third confusion: a +"conscious experience," in this third sense, is an experience of +which we are conscious. All these, it seems to me, need to be clearly +separated. To say that one occurrence is "conscious" of another is, to +my mind, to assert an external and rather remote relation between them. +I might illustrate it by the relation of uncle and nephew a man becomes +an uncle through no effort of his own, merely through an occurrence +elsewhere. Similarly, when you are said to be "conscious" of a table, +the question whether this is really the case cannot be decided by +examining only your state of mind: it is necessary also to ascertain +whether your sensation is having those correlates which past experience +causes you to assume, or whether the table happens, in this case, to be +a mirage. And, as I explained in my first lecture, I do not believe that +there is any "stuff" of consciousness, so that there is no intrinsic +character by which a "conscious" experience could be distinguished from +any other. + +After these preliminaries, we can return to Knight Dunlap's article. +His criticism of Stout turns on the difficulty of giving any empirical +meaning to such notions as the "mind" or the "subject"; he quotes from +Stout the sentence: "The most important drawback is that the mind, in +watching its own workings, must necessarily have its attention divided +between two objects," and he concludes: "Without question, Stout is +bringing in here illicitly the concept of a single observer, and his +introspection does not provide for the observation of this observer; +for the process observed and the observer are distinct" (p. 407). +The objections to any theory which brings in the single observer were +considered in Lecture I, and were acknowledged to be cogent. In so +far, therefore, as Stout's theory of introspection rests upon this +assumption, we are compelled to reject it. But it is perfectly possible +to believe in introspection without supposing that there is a single +observer. + +William James's theory of introspection, which Dunlap next examines, +does not assume a single observer. It changed after the publication +of his "Psychology," in consequence of his abandoning the dualism of +thought and things. Dunlap summarizes his theory as follows: + +"The essential points in James's scheme of consciousness are SUBJECT, +OBJECT, and a KNOWING of the object by the subject. The difference +between James's scheme and other schemes involving the same terms is +that James considers subject and object to be the same thing, but at +different times In order to satisfy this requirement James supposes a +realm of existence which he at first called 'states of consciousness' or +'thoughts,' and later, 'pure experience,' the latter term including both +the 'thoughts' and the 'knowing.' This scheme, with all its magnificent +artificiality, James held on to until the end, simply dropping the +term consciousness and the dualism between the thought and an external +reality"(p. 409). + +He adds: "All that James's system really amounts to is the +acknowledgment that a succession of things are known, and that they are +known by something. This is all any one can claim, except for the +fact that the things are known together, and that the knower for the +different items is one and the same" (ib.). + +In this statement, to my mind, Dunlap concedes far more than James did +in his later theory. I see no reason to suppose that "the knower for +different items is one and the same," and I am convinced that this +proposition could not possibly be ascertained except by introspection of +the sort that Dunlap rejects. The first of these points must wait until +we come to the analysis of belief: the second must be considered now. +Dunlap's view is that there is a dualism of subject and object, but that +the subject can never become object, and therefore there is no awareness +of an awareness. He says in discussing the view that introspection +reveals the occurrence of knowledge: "There can be no denial of the +existence of the thing (knowing) which is alleged to be known or +observed in this sort of 'introspection.' The allegation that the +knowing is observed is that which may be denied. Knowing there certainly +is; known, the knowing certainly is not"(p. 410). And again: "I am +never aware of an awareness" (ib.). And on the next page: "It may sound +paradoxical to say that one cannot observe the process (or relation) of +observation, and yet may be certain that there is such a process: but +there is really no inconsistency in the saying. How do I know that there +is awareness? By being aware of something. There is no meaning in the +term 'awareness' which is not expressed in the statement 'I am aware of +a colour (or what-not).'" + +But the paradox cannot be so lightly disposed of. The statement "I am +aware of a colour" is assumed by Knight Dunlap to be known to be true, +but he does not explain how it comes to be known. The argument against +him is not conclusive, since he may be able to show some valid way of +inferring our awareness. But he does not suggest any such way. There is +nothing odd in the hypothesis of beings which are aware of objects, but +not of their own awareness; it is, indeed, highly probable that young +children and the higher animals are such beings. But such beings cannot +make the statement "I am aware of a colour," which WE can make. We have, +therefore, some knowledge which they lack. It is necessary to Knight +Dunlap's position to maintain that this additional knowledge is purely +inferential, but he makes no attempt to show how the inference is +possible. It may, of course, be possible, but I cannot see how. To my +mind the fact (which he admits) that we know there is awareness, is ALL +BUT decisive against his theory, and in favour of the view that we can +be aware of an awareness. + +Dunlap asserts (to return to James) that the real ground for James's +original belief in introspection was his belief in two sorts of +objects, namely, thoughts and things. He suggests that it was a +mere inconsistency on James's part to adhere to introspection after +abandoning the dualism of thoughts and things. I do not wholly agree +with this view, but it is difficult to disentangle the difference as to +introspection from the difference as to the nature of knowing. Dunlap +suggests (p. 411) that what is called introspection really consists of +awareness of "images," visceral sensations, and so on. This view, in +essence, seems to me sound. But then I hold that knowing itself consists +of such constituents suitably related, and that in being aware of them +we are sometimes being aware of instances of knowing. For this reason, +much as I agree with his view as to what are the objects of which +there is awareness, I cannot wholly agree with his conclusion as to the +impossibility of introspection. + +The behaviourists have challenged introspection even more vigorously +than Knight Dunlap, and have gone so far as to deny the existence of +images. But I think that they have confused various things which +are very commonly confused, and that it is necessary to make several +distinctions before we can arrive at what is true and what false in the +criticism of introspection. + +I wish to distinguish three distinct questions, any one of which may be +meant when we ask whether introspection is a source of knowledge. The +three questions are as follows: + +(1) Can we observe anything about ourselves which we cannot observe +about other people, or is everything we can observe PUBLIC, in the sense +that another could also observe it if suitably placed? + +(2) Does everything that we can observe obey the laws of physics and +form part of the physical world, or can we observe certain things that +lie outside physics? + +(3) Can we observe anything which differs in its intrinsic nature from +the constituents of the physical world, or is everything that we can +observe composed of elements intrinsically similar to the constituents +of what is called matter? + +Any one of these three questions may be used to define introspection. I +should favour introspection in the sense of the first question, i.e. I +think that some of the things we observe cannot, even theoretically, be +observed by any one else. The second question, tentatively and for +the present, I should answer in favour of introspection; I think that +images, in the actual condition of science, cannot be brought under the +causal laws of physics, though perhaps ultimately they may be. The +third question I should answer adversely to introspection I think that +observation shows us nothing that is not composed of sensations and +images, and that images differ from sensations in their causal laws, not +intrinsically. I shall deal with the three questions successively. + +(1) PUBLICITY OR PRIVACY OF WHAT IS OBSERVED. Confining ourselves, for +the moment, to sensations, we find that there are different degrees +of publicity attaching to different sorts of sensations. If you feel a +toothache when the other people in the room do not, you are in no way +surprised; but if you hear a clap of thunder when they do not, you begin +to be alarmed as to your mental condition. Sight and hearing are the +most public of the senses; smell only a trifle less so; touch, again, a +trifle less, since two people can only touch the same spot successively, +not simultaneously. Taste has a sort of semi-publicity, since people +seem to experience similar taste-sensations when they eat similar foods; +but the publicity is incomplete, since two people cannot eat actually +the same piece of food. + +But when we pass on to bodily sensations--headache, toothache, hunger, +thirst, the feeling of fatigue, and so on--we get quite away from +publicity, into a region where other people can tell us what they feel, +but we cannot directly observe their feeling. As a natural result of +this state of affairs, it has come to be thought that the public senses +give us knowledge of the outer world, while the private senses only give +us knowledge as to our own bodies. As regards privacy, all images, of +whatever sort, belong with the sensations which only give knowledge of +our own bodies, i.e. each is only observable by one observer. This is +the reason why images of sight and hearing are more obviously different +from sensations of sight and hearing than images of bodily sensations +are from bodily sensations; and that is why the argument in favour of +images is more conclusive in such cases as sight and hearing than in +such cases as inner speech. + +The whole distinction of privacy and publicity, however, so long as we +confine ourselves to sensations, is one of degree, not of kind. No +two people, there is good empirical reason to think, ever have exactly +similar sensations related to the same physical object at the same +moment; on the other hand, even the most private sensation has +correlations which would theoretically enable another observer to infer +it. + +That no sensation is ever completely public, results from differences of +point of view. Two people looking at the same table do not get the same +sensation, because of perspective and the way the light falls. They get +only correlated sensations. Two people listening to the same sound do +not hear exactly the same thing, because one is nearer to the source of +the sound than the other, one has better hearing than the other, and +so on. Thus publicity in sensations consists, not in having PRECISELY +similar sensations, but in having more or less similar sensations +correlated according to ascertainable laws. The sensations which strike +us as public are those where the correlated sensations are very similar +and the correlations are very easy to discover. But even the most +private sensations have correlations with things that others can +observe. The dentist does not observe your ache, but he can see the +cavity which causes it, and could guess that you are suffering even +if you did not tell him. This fact, however, cannot be used, as Watson +would apparently wish, to extrude from science observations which are +private to one observer, since it is by means of many such observations +that correlations are established, e.g. between toothaches and cavities. +Privacy, therefore does not by itself make a datum unamenable to +scientific treatment. On this point, the argument against introspection +must be rejected. + +(2) DOES EVERYTHING OBSERVABLE OBEY THE LAWS OF PHYSICS? We come now to +the second ground of objection to introspection, namely, that its data +do not obey the laws of physics. This, though less emphasized, is, +I think, an objection which is really more strongly felt than the +objection of privacy. And we obtain a definition of introspection more +in harmony with usage if we define it as observation of data not subject +to physical laws than if we define it by means of privacy. No one would +regard a man as introspective because he was conscious of having a +stomach ache. Opponents of introspection do not mean to deny the obvious +fact that we can observe bodily sensations which others cannot observe. +For example, Knight Dunlap contends that images are really muscular +contractions,* and evidently regards our awareness of muscular +contractions as not coming under the head of introspection. I think it +will be found that the essential characteristic of introspective data, +in the sense which now concerns us, has to do with LOCALIZATION: either +they are not localized at all, or they are localized, like visual +images, in a place already physically occupied by something which would +be inconsistent with them if they were regarded as part of the physical +world. If you have a visual image of your friend sitting in a chair +which in fact is empty, you cannot locate the image in your body, +because it is visual, nor (as a physical phenomenon) in the chair, +because the chair, as a physical object, is empty. Thus it seems to +follow that the physical world does not include all that we are aware +of, and that images, which are introspective data, have to be regarded, +for the present, as not obeying the laws of physics; this is, I think, +one of the chief reasons why an attempt is made to reject them. I +shall try to show in Lecture VIII that the purely empirical reasons for +accepting images are overwhelming. But we cannot be nearly so certain +that they will not ultimately be brought under the laws of physics. Even +if this should happen, however, they would still be distinguishable +from sensations by their proximate causal laws, as gases remain +distinguishable from solids. + + * "Psychological Review," 1916, "Thought-Content and + Feeling," p. 59. See also ib., 1912, "The Nature of + Perceived Relations," where he says: "'Introspection,' + divested of its mythological suggestion of the observing of + consciousness, is really the observation of bodily + sensations (sensibles) and feelings (feelables)"(p. 427 n.). + +(3) CAN WE OBSERVE ANYTHING INTRINSICALLY DIFFERENT FROM SENSATIONS? We +come now to our third question concerning introspection. It is commonly +thought that by looking within we can observe all sorts of things that +are radically different from the constituents of the physical world, +e.g. thoughts, beliefs, desires, pleasures, pains and emotions. The +difference between mind and matter is increased partly by emphasizing +these supposed introspective data, partly by the supposition that matter +is composed of atoms or electrons or whatever units physics may at the +moment prefer. As against this latter supposition, I contend that +the ultimate constituents of matter are not atoms or electrons, but +sensations, and other things similar to sensations as regards extent and +duration. As against the view that introspection reveals a mental world +radically different from sensations, I propose to argue that thoughts, +beliefs, desires, pleasures, pains and emotions are all built up out +of sensations and images alone, and that there is reason to think that +images do not differ from sensations in their intrinsic character. We +thus effect a mutual rapprochement of mind and matter, and reduce the +ultimate data of introspection (in our second sense) to images alone. On +this third view of the meaning of introspection, therefore, our decision +is wholly against it. + +There remain two points to be considered concerning introspection. The +first is as to how far it is trustworthy; the second is as to whether, +even granting that it reveals no radically different STUFF from that +revealed by what might be called external perception, it may not reveal +different RELATIONS, and thus acquire almost as much importance as is +traditionally assigned to it. + +To begin with the trustworthiness of introspection. It is common among +certain schools to regard the knowledge of our own mental processes as +incomparably more certain than our knowledge of the "external" world; +this view is to be found in the British philosophy which descends from +Hume, and is present, somewhat veiled, in Kant and his followers. +There seems no reason whatever to accept this view. Our spontaneous, +unsophisticated beliefs, whether as to ourselves or as to the outer +world, are always extremely rash and very liable to error. The +acquisition of caution is equally necessary and equally difficult in +both directions. Not only are we often un aware of entertaining a +belief or desire which exists in us; we are often actually mistaken. The +fallibility of introspection as regards what we desire is made evident +by psycho-analysis; its fallibility as to what we know is easily +demonstrated. An autobiography, when confronted by a careful editor +with documentary evidence, is usually found to be full of obviously +inadvertent errors. Any of us confronted by a forgotten letter written +some years ago will be astonished to find how much more foolish our +opinions were than we had remembered them as being. And as to the +analysis of our mental operations--believing, desiring, willing, or what +not--introspection unaided gives very little help: it is necessary to +construct hypotheses and test them by their consequences, just as we do +in physical science. Introspection, therefore, though it is one among +our sources of knowledge, is not, in isolation, in any degree more +trustworthy than "external" perception. + +I come now to our second question: Does introspection give us materials +for the knowledge of relations other than those arrived at by reflecting +upon external perception? It might be contended that the essence of what +is "mental" consists of relations, such as knowing for example, and that +our knowledge concerning these essentially mental relations is entirely +derived from introspection. If "knowing" were an unanalysable relation, +this view would be incontrovertible, since clearly no such relation +forms part of the subject matter of physics. But it would seem that +"knowing" is really various relations, all of them complex. Therefore, +until they have been analysed, our present question must remain +unanswered I shall return to it at the end of the present course of +lectures. + + + + +LECTURE VII. THE DEFINITION OF PERCEPTION + +In Lecture V we found reason to think that the ultimate constituents* +of the world do not have the characteristics of either mind or matter +as ordinarily understood: they are not solid persistent objects moving +through space, nor are they fragments of "consciousness." But we found +two ways of grouping particulars, one into "things" or "pieces of +matter," the other into series of "perspectives," each series being what +may be called a "biography." Before we can define either sensations +or images, it is necessary to consider this twofold classification +in somewhat greater detail, and to derive from it a definition of +perception. It should be said that, in so far as the classification +assumes the whole world of physics (including its unperceived portions), +it contains hypothetical elements. But we will not linger on the grounds +for admitting these, which belong to the philosophy of physics rather +than of psychology. + + * When I speak of "ultimate constituents," I do not mean + necessarily such as are theoretically incapable of analysis, + but only such as, at present, we can see no means of + analysing. I speak of such constituents as "particulars," or + as "RELATIVE particulars" when I wish to emphasize the fact + that they may be themselves complex. + +The physical classification of particulars collects together all those +that are aspects of one "thing." Given any one particular, it is +found often (we do not say always) that there are a number of other +particulars differing from this one in gradually increasing degrees. +Those (or some of those) that differ from it only very slightly will +be found to differ approximately according to certain laws which may be +called, in a generalized sense, the laws of "perspective"; they include +the ordinary laws of perspective as a special case. This approximation +grows more and more nearly exact as the difference grows less; in +technical language, the laws of perspective account for the differences +to the first order of small quantities, and other laws are only +required to account for second-order differences. That is to say, as the +difference diminishes, the part of the difference which is not according +to the laws of perspective diminishes much more rapidly, and bears to +the total difference a ratio which tends towards zero as both are made +smaller and smaller. By this means we can theoretically collect together +a number of particulars which may be defined as the "aspects" or +"appearances" of one thing at one time. If the laws of perspective were +sufficiently known, the connection between different aspects would be +expressed in differential equations. + +This gives us, so far, only those particulars which constitute one thing +at one time. This set of particulars may be called a "momentary +thing." To define that series of "momentary things" that constitute +the successive states of one thing is a problem involving the laws of +dynamics. These give the laws governing the changes of aspects from +one time to a slightly later time, with the same sort of differential +approximation to exactness as we obtained for spatially neighbouring +aspects through the laws of perspective. Thus a momentary thing is a set +of particulars, while a thing (which may be identified with the whole +history of the thing) is a series of such sets of particulars. +The particulars in one set are collected together by the laws of +perspective; the successive sets are collected together by the laws +of dynamics. This is the view of the world which is appropriate to +traditional physics. + +The definition of a "momentary thing" involves problems concerning time, +since the particulars constituting a momentary thing will not be all +simultaneous, but will travel outward from the thing with the velocity +of light (in case the thing is in vacuo). There are complications +connected with relativity, but for our present purpose they are not +vital, and I shall ignore them. + +Instead of first collecting together all the particulars constituting +a momentary thing, and then forming the series of successive sets, +we might have first collected together a series of successive aspects +related by the laws of dynamics, and then have formed the set of such +series related by the laws of perspective. To illustrate by the case of +an actor on the stage: our first plan was to collect together all the +aspects which he presents to different spectators at one time, and then +to form the series of such sets. Our second plan is first to collect +together all the aspects which he presents successively to a given +spectator, and then to do the same thing for the other spectators, thus +forming a set of series instead of a series of sets. The first plan +tells us what he does; the second the impressions he produces. This +second way of classifying particulars is one which obviously has more +relevance to psychology than the other. It is partly by this second +method of classification that we obtain definitions of one "experience" +or "biography" or "person." This method of classification is also +essential to the definition of sensations and images, as I shall +endeavour to prove later on. But we must first amplify the definition of +perspectives and biographies. + +In our illustration of the actor, we spoke, for the moment, as though +each spectator's mind were wholly occupied by the one actor. If this +were the case, it might be possible to define the biography of one +spectator as a series of successive aspects of the actor related +according to the laws of dynamics. But in fact this is not the case. +We are at all times during our waking life receiving a variety of +impressions, which are aspects of a variety of things. We have to +consider what binds together two simultaneous sensations in one +person, or, more generally, any two occurrences which forte part of one +experience. We might say, adhering to the standpoint of physics, that +two aspects of different things belong to the same perspective when +they are in the same place. But this would not really help us, since a +"place" has not yet been defined. Can we define what is meant by saying +that two aspects are "in the same place," without introducing anything +beyond the laws of perspective and dynamics? + +I do not feel sure whether it is possible to frame such a definition or +not; accordingly I shall not assume that it is possible, but shall +seek other characteristics by which a perspective or biography may be +defined. + +When (for example) we see one man and hear another speaking at the +same time, what we see and what we hear have a relation which we +can perceive, which makes the two together form, in some sense, one +experience. It is when this relation exists that two occurrences become +associated. Semon's "engram" is formed by all that we experience at one +time. He speaks of two parts of this total as having the relation of +"Nebeneinander" (M. 118; M.E. 33 ff.), which is reminiscent of Herbart's +"Zusammen." I think the relation may be called simply "simultaneity." It +might be said that at any moment all sorts of things that are not part +of my experience are happening in the world, and that therefore the +relation we are seeking to define cannot be merely simultaneity. +This, however, would be an error--the sort of error that the theory +of relativity avoids. There is not one universal time, except by an +elaborate construction; there are only local times, each of which may +be taken to be the time within one biography. Accordingly, if I am (say) +hearing a sound, the only occurrences that are, in any simple sense, +simultaneous with my sensation are events in my private world, i.e. in +my biography. We may therefore define the "perspective" to which +the sensation in question belongs as the set of particulars that are +simultaneous with this sensation. And similarly we may define the +"biography" to which the sensation belongs as the set of particulars +that are earlier or later than, or simultaneous with, the given +sensation. Moreover, the very same definitions can be applied to +particulars which are not sensations. They are actually required for the +theory of relativity, if we are to give a philosophical explanation +of what is meant by "local time" in that theory The relations of +simultaneity and succession are known to us in our own experience; +they may be analysable, but that does not affect their suitability for +defining perspectives and biographies. Such time-relations as can be +constructed between events in different biographies are of a different +kind: they are not experienced, and are merely logical, being designed +to afford convenient ways of stating the correlations between different +biographies. + +It is not only by time-relations that the parts of one biography are +collected together in the case of living beings. In this case there are +the mnemic phenomena which constitute the unity of one "experience," and +transform mere occurrences into "experiences." I have already dwelt upon +the importance of mnemic phenomena for psychology, and shall not +enlarge upon them now, beyond observing that they are what transforms a +biography (in our technical sense) into a life. It is they that give the +continuity of a "person" or a "mind." But there is no reason to suppose +that mnemic phenomena are associated with biographies except in the case +of animals and plants. + +Our two-fold classification of particulars gives rise to the dualism of +body and biography in regard to everything in the universe, and not only +in regard to living things. This arises as follows. Every particular of +the sort considered by physics is a member of two groups (1) The group +of particulars constituting the other aspects of the same physical +object; (2) The group of particulars that have direct time-relations to +the given particular. + +Each of these is associated with a place. When I look at a star, my +sensation is (1) A member of the group of particulars which is the star, +and which is associated with the place where the star is; (2) A +member of the group of particulars which is my biography, and which is +associated with the place where I am.* + + *I have explained elsewhere the manner in which space is + constructed on this theory, and in which the position of a + perspective is brought into relation with the position of a + physical object ("Our Knowledge of the External World," + Lecture III, pp. 90, 91). + +The result is that every particular of the kind relevant to physics is +associated with TWO places; e.g. my sensation of the star is associated +with the place where I am and with the place where the star is. This +dualism has nothing to do with any "mind" that I may be supposed to +possess; it exists in exactly the same sense if I am replaced by a +photographic plate. We may call the two places the active and passive +places respectively.* Thus in the case of a perception or photograph +of a star, the active place is the place where the star is, while the +passive place is the place where the percipient or photographic plate +is. + + * I use these as mere names; I do not want to introduce any + notion of "activity." + +We can thus, without departing from physics, collect together all the +particulars actively at a given place, or all the particulars passively +at a given place. In our own case, the one group is our body (or +our brain), while the other is our mind, in so far as it consists of +perceptions. In the case of the photographic plate, the first group is +the plate as dealt with by physics, the second the aspect of the heavens +which it photographs. (For the sake of schematic simplicity, I am +ignoring various complications connected with time, which require some +tedious but perfectly feasible elaborations.) Thus what may be called +subjectivity in the point of view is not a distinctive peculiarity of +mind: it is present just as much in the photographic plate. And the +photographic plate has its biography as well as its "matter." But +this biography is an affair of physics, and has none of the peculiar +characteristics by which "mental" phenomena are distinguished, with the +sole exception of subjectivity. + +Adhering, for the moment, to the standpoint of physics, we may define a +"perception" of an object as the appearance of the object from a place +where there is a brain (or, in lower animals, some suitable nervous +structure), with sense-organs and nerves forming part of the intervening +medium. Such appearances of objects are distinguished from appearances +in other places by certain peculiarities, namely: + +(1) They give rise to mnemic phenomena; + +(2) They are themselves affected by mnemic phenomena. + +That is to say, they may be remembered and associated or influence our +habits, or give rise to images, etc., and they are themselves different +from what they would have been if our past experience had been +different--for example, the effect of a spoken sentence upon the hearer +depends upon whether the hearer knows the language or not, which is +a question of past experience. It is these two characteristics, both +connected with mnemic phenomena, that distinguish perceptions from the +appearances of objects in places where there is no living being. + +Theoretically, though often not practically, we can, in our perception +of an object, separate the part which is due to past experience from the +part which proceeds without mnemic influences out of the character of +the object. We may define as "sensation" that part which proceeds in +this way, while the remainder, which is a mnemic phenomenon, will have +to be added to the sensation to make up what is called the "perception." +According to this definition, the sensation is a theoretical core in +the actual experience; the actual experience is the perception. It +is obvious that there are grave difficulties in carrying out these +definitions, but we will not linger over them. We have to pass, as soon +as we can, from the physical standpoint, which we have been hitherto +adopting, to the standpoint of psychology, in which we make more use +of introspection in the first of the three senses discussed in the +preceding lecture. + +But before making the transition, there are two points which must be +made clear. First: Everything outside my own personal biography is +outside my experience; therefore if anything can be known by me outside +my biography, it can only be known in one of two ways: + +(1) By inference from things within my biography, or + +(2) By some a priori principle independent of experience. + +I do not myself believe that anything approaching certainty is to be +attained by either of these methods, and therefore whatever lies outside +my personal biography must be regarded, theoretically, as hypothesis. +The theoretical argument for adopting the hypothesis is that it +simplifies the statement of the laws according to which events happen +in our experience. But there is no very good ground for supposing that +a simple law is more likely to be true than a complicated law, though +there is good ground for assuming a simple law in scientific practice, +as a working hypothesis, if it explains the facts as well as another +which is less simple. Belief in the existence of things outside my own +biography exists antecedently to evidence, and can only be destroyed, if +at all, by a long course of philosophic doubt. For purposes of science, +it is justified practically by the simplification which it introduces +into the laws of physics. But from the standpoint of theoretical logic +it must be regarded as a prejudice, not as a well-grounded theory. With +this proviso, I propose to continue yielding to the prejudice. + +The second point concerns the relating of our point of view to that +which regards sensations as caused by stimuli external to the nervous +system (or at least to the brain), and distinguishes images as +"centrally excited," i.e. due to causes in the brain which cannot be +traced back to anything affecting the sense-organs. It is clear that, +if our analysis of physical objects has been valid, this way of defining +sensations needs reinterpretation. It is also clear that we must be able +to find such a new interpretation if our theory is to be admissible. + +To make the matter clear, we will take the simplest possible +illustration. Consider a certain star, and suppose for the moment +that its size is negligible. That is to say, we will regard it as, for +practical purposes, a luminous point. Let us further suppose that it +exists only for a very brief time, say a second. Then, according to +physics, what happens is that a spherical wave of light travels outward +from the star through space, just as, when you drop a stone into a +stagnant pond, ripples travel outward from the place where the stone hit +the water. The wave of light travels with a certain very nearly constant +velocity, roughly 300,000 kilometres per second. This velocity may be +ascertained by sending a flash of light to a mirror, and observing +how long it takes before the reflected flash reaches you, just as the +velocity of sound may be ascertained by means of an echo. + +What it is that happens when a wave of light reaches a given place we +cannot tell, except in the sole case when the place in question is a +brain connected with an eye which is turned in the right direction. In +this one very special case we know what happens: we have the sensation +called "seeing the star." In all other cases, though we know (more or +less hypothetically) some of the correlations and abstract properties +of the appearance of the star, we do not know the appearance itself. Now +you may, for the sake of illustration, compare the different appearances +of the star to the conjugation of a Greek verb, except that the number +of its parts is really infinite, and not only apparently so to the +despairing schoolboy. In vacuo, the parts are regular, and can be +derived from the (imaginary) root according to the laws of grammar, +i.e. of perspective. The star being situated in empty space, it may be +defined, for purposes of physics, as consisting of all those appearances +which it presents in vacuo, together with those which, according to +the laws of perspective, it would present elsewhere if its appearances +elsewhere were regular. This is merely the adaptation of the definition +of matter which I gave in an earlier lecture. The appearance of a star +at a certain place, if it is regular, does not require any cause or +explanation beyond the existence of the star. Every regular appearance +is an actual member of the system which is the star, and its causation +is entirely internal to that system. We may express this by saying that +a regular appearance is due to the star alone, and is actually part of +the star, in the sense in which a man is part of the human race. + +But presently the light of the star reaches our atmosphere. It begins +to be refracted, and dimmed by mist, and its velocity is slightly +diminished. At last it reaches a human eye, where a complicated process +takes place, ending in a sensation which gives us our grounds for +believing in all that has gone before. Now, the irregular appearances of +the star are not, strictly speaking, members of the system which is the +star, according to our definition of matter. The irregular appearances, +however, are not merely irregular: they proceed according to laws which +can be stated in terms of the matter through which the light has +passed on its way. The sources of an irregular appearance are therefore +twofold: + +(1) The object which is appearing irregularly; + +2) The intervening medium. + +It should be observed that, while the conception of a regular appearance +is perfectly precise, the conception of an irregular appearance is one +capable of any degree of vagueness. When the distorting influence of the +medium is sufficiently great, the resulting particular can no longer be +regarded as an appearance of an object, but must be treated on its own +account. This happens especially when the particular in question cannot +be traced back to one object, but is a blend of two or more. This case +is normal in perception: we see as one what the microscope or telescope +reveals to be many different objects. The notion of perception is +therefore not a precise one: we perceive things more or less, but always +with a very considerable amount of vagueness and confusion. + +In considering irregular appearances, there are certain very natural +mistakes which must be avoided. In order that a particular may count as +an irregular appearance of a certain object, it is not necessary that +it should bear any resemblance to the regular appearances as regard +its intrinsic qualities. All that is necessary is that it should be +derivable from the regular appearances by the laws which express +the distorting influence of the medium. When it is so derivable, +the particular in question may be regarded as caused by the regular +appearances, and therefore by the object itself, together with the +modifications resulting from the medium. In other cases, the particular +in question may, in the same sense, be regarded as caused by several +objects together with the medium; in this case, it may be called a +confused appearance of several objects. If it happens to be in a brain, +it may be called a confused perception of these objects. All actual +perception is confused to a greater or less extent. + +We can now interpret in terms of our theory the distinction between +those mental occurrences which are said to have an external stimulus, +and those which are said to be "centrally excited," i.e. to have no +stimulus external to the brain. When a mental occurrence can be regarded +as an appearance of an object external to the brain, however irregular, +or even as a confused appearance of several such objects, then we may +regard it as having for its stimulus the object or objects in question, +or their appearances at the sense-organ concerned. When, on the other +hand, a mental occurrence has not sufficient connection with objects +external to the brain to be regarded as an appearance of such objects, +then its physical causation (if any) will have to be sought in the +brain. In the former case it can be called a perception; in the latter +it cannot be so called. But the distinction is one of degree, not of +kind. Until this is realized, no satisfactory theory of perception, +sensation, or imagination is possible. + + + + +LECTURE VIII. SENSATIONS AND IMAGES + +The dualism of mind and matter, if we have been right so far, cannot be +allowed as metaphysically valid. Nevertheless, we seem to find a certain +dualism, perhaps not ultimate, within the world as we observe it. The +dualism is not primarily as to the stuff of the world, but as to causal +laws. On this subject we may again quote William James. He points out +that when, as we say, we merely "imagine" things, there are no such +effects as would ensue if the things were what we call "real." He takes +the case of imagining a fire. + +"I make for myself an experience of blazing fire; I place it near my +body; but it does not warm me in the least. I lay a stick upon it and +the stick either burns or remains green, as I please. I call up water, +and pour it on the fire, and absolutely no difference ensues. I account +for all such facts by calling this whole train of experiences unreal, a +mental train. Mental fire is what won't burn real sticks; mental water +is what won't necessarily (though of course it may) put out even a +mental fire.... With 'real' objects, on the contrary, consequences +always accrue; and thus the real experiences get sifted from the mental +ones, the things from our thoughts of them, fanciful or true, and +precipitated together as the stable part of the whole experience--chaos, +under the name of the physical world."* + + * "Essays in Radical Empiricism," pp. 32-3. + +In this passage James speaks, by mere inadvertence, as though the +phenomena which he is describing as "mental" had NO effects. This is, of +course, not the case: they have their effects, just as much as physical +phenomena do, but their effects follow different laws. For example, +dreams, as Freud has shown, are just as much subject to laws as are the +motions of the planets. But the laws are different: in a dream you may +be transported from one place to another in a moment, or one person +may turn into another under your eyes. Such differences compel you to +distinguish the world of dreams from the physical world. + +If the two sorts of causal laws could be sharply distinguished, we could +call an occurrence "physical" when it obeys causal laws appropriate to +the physical world, and "mental" when it obeys causal laws appropriate +to the mental world. Since the mental world and the physical world +interact, there would be a boundary between the two: there would be +events which would have physical causes and mental effects, while there +would be others which would have mental causes and physical effects. +Those that have physical causes and mental effects we should define as +"sensations." Those that have mental causes and physical effects might +perhaps be identified with what we call voluntary movements; but they do +not concern us at present. + +These definitions would have all the precision that could be desired if +the distinction between physical and psychological causation were clear +and sharp. As a matter of fact, however, this distinction is, as yet, by +no means sharp. It is possible that, with fuller knowledge, it will be +found to be no more ultimate than the distinction between the laws of +gases and the laws of rigid bodies. It also suffers from the fact that +an event may be an effect of several causes according to several causal +laws we cannot, in general, point to anything unique as THE cause of +such-and-such an event. And finally it is by no means certain that +the peculiar causal laws which govern mental events are not really +physiological. The law of habit, which is one of the most distinctive, +may be fully explicable in terms of the peculiarities of nervous tissue, +and these peculiarities, in turn, may be explicable by the laws of +physics. It seems, therefore, that we are driven to a different kind of +definition. It is for this reason that it was necessary to develop +the definition of perception. With this definition, we can define a +sensation as the non-mnemic elements in a perception. + +When, following our definition, we try to decide what elements in our +experience are of the nature of sensations, we find more difficulty +than might have been expected. Prima facie, everything is sensation that +comes to us through the senses: the sights we see, the sounds we hear, +the smells we smell, and so on; also such things as headache or the +feeling of muscular strain. But in actual fact so much interpretation, +so much of habitual correlation, is mixed with all such experiences, +that the core of pure sensation is only to be extracted by careful +investigation. To take a simple illustration: if you go to the theatre +in your own country, you seem to hear equally well in the stalls or the +dress circle; in either case you think you miss nothing. But if you go +in a foreign country where you have a fair knowledge of the language, +you will seem to have grown partially deaf, and you will find it +necessary to be much nearer the stage than you would need to be in your +own country. The reason is that, in hearing our own language spoken, we +quickly and unconsciously fill out what we really hear with inferences +to what the man must be saying, and we never realize that we have not +heard the words we have merely inferred. In a foreign language, these +inferences are more difficult, and we are more dependent upon actual +sensation. If we found ourselves in a foreign world, where tables looked +like cushions and cushions like tables, we should similarly discover how +much of what we think we see is really inference. Every fairly familiar +sensation is to us a sign of the things that usually go with it, and +many of these things will seem to form part of the sensation. I remember +in the early days of motor-cars being with a friend when a tyre burst +with a loud report. He thought it was a pistol, and supported his +opinion by maintaining that he had seen the flash. But of course there +had been no flash. Nowadays no one sees a flash when a tyre bursts. + +In order, therefore, to arrive at what really is sensation in an +occurrence which, at first sight, seems to contain nothing else, we have +to pare away all that is due to habit or expectation or interpretation. +This is a matter for the psychologist, and by no means an easy matter. +For our purposes, it is not important to determine what exactly is the +sensational core in any case; it is only important to notice that +there certainly is a sensational core, since habit, expectation and +interpretation are diversely aroused on diverse occasions, and the +diversity is clearly due to differences in what is presented to +the senses. When you open your newspaper in the morning, the actual +sensations of seeing the print form a very minute part of what goes +on in you, but they are the starting-point of all the rest, and it +is through them that the newspaper is a means of information or +mis-information. Thus, although it may be difficult to determine what +exactly is sensation in any given experience, it is clear that there is +sensation, unless, like Leibniz, we deny all action of the outer world +upon us. + +Sensations are obviously the source of our knowledge of the world, +including our own body. It might seem natural to regard a sensation as +itself a cognition, and until lately I did so regard it. When, say, I +see a person I know coming towards me in the street, it SEEMS as +though the mere seeing were knowledge. It is of course undeniable that +knowledge comes THROUGH the seeing, but I think it is a mistake to +regard the mere seeing itself as knowledge. If we are so to regard it, +we must distinguish the seeing from what is seen: we must say that, when +we see a patch of colour of a certain shape, the patch of colour is one +thing and our seeing of it is another. This view, however, demands the +admission of the subject, or act, in the sense discussed in our first +lecture. If there is a subject, it can have a relation to the patch of +colour, namely, the sort of relation which we might call awareness. In +that case the sensation, as a mental event, will consist of awareness of +the colour, while the colour itself will remain wholly physical, and +may be called the sense-datum, to distinguish it from the sensation. +The subject, however, appears to be a logical fiction, like mathematical +points and instants. It is introduced, not because observation reveals +it, but because it is linguistically convenient and apparently demanded +by grammar. Nominal entities of this sort may or may not exist, but +there is no good ground for assuming that they do. The functions that +they appear to perform can always be performed by classes or series or +other logical constructions, consisting of less dubious entities. If we +are to avoid a perfectly gratuitous assumption, we must dispense with +the subject as one of the actual ingredients of the world. But when +we do this, the possibility of distinguishing the sensation from +the sense-datum vanishes; at least I see no way of preserving the +distinction. Accordingly the sensation that we have when we see a patch +of colour simply is that patch of colour, an actual constituent of the +physical world, and part of what physics is concerned with. A patch of +colour is certainly not knowledge, and therefore we cannot say that pure +sensation is cognitive. Through its psychological effects, it is the +cause of cognitions, partly by being itself a sign of things that +are correlated with it, as e.g. sensations of sight and touch are +correlated, and partly by giving rise to images and memories after the +sensation is faded. But in itself the pure sensation is not cognitive. + +In the first lecture we considered the view of Brentano, that "we may +define psychical phenomena by saying that they are phenomena which +intentionally contain an object." We saw reasons to reject this view in +general; we are now concerned to show that it must be rejected in the +particular case of sensations. The kind of argument which formerly made +me accept Brentano's view in this case was exceedingly simple. When I +see a patch of colour, it seemed to me that the colour is not psychical, +but physical, while my seeing is not physical, but psychical. Hence +I concluded that the colour is something other than my seeing of +the colour. This argument, to me historically, was directed against +idealism: the emphatic part of it was the assertion that the colour is +physical, not psychical. I shall not trouble you now with the grounds +for holding as against Berkeley that the patch of colour is physical; I +have set them forth before, and I see no reason to modify them. But it +does not follow that the patch of colour is not also psychical, unless +we assume that the physical and the psychical cannot overlap, which I +no longer consider a valid assumption. If we admit--as I think we +should--that the patch of colour may be both physical and psychical, the +reason for distinguishing the sense-datum from the sensation disappears, +and we may say that the patch of colour and our sensation in seeing it +are identical. + +This is the view of William James, Professor Dewey, and the American +realists. Perceptions, says Professor Dewey, are not per se cases of +knowledge, but simply natural events with no more knowledge status +than (say) a shower. "Let them [the realists] try the experiment of +conceiving perceptions as pure natural events, not cases of awareness or +apprehension, and they will be surprised to see how little they miss."* +I think he is right in this, except in supposing that the realists will +be surprised. Many of them already hold the view he is advocating, and +others are very sympathetic to it. At any rate, it is the view which I +shall adopt in these lectures. + + * Dewey, "Essays in Experimental Logic," pp. 253, 262. + +The stuff of the world, so far as we have experience of it, consists, on +the view that I am advocating, of innumerable transient particulars such +as occur in seeing, hearing, etc., together with images more or less +resembling these, of which I shall speak shortly. If physics is true, +there are, besides the particulars that we experience, others, probably +equally (or almost equally) transient, which make up that part of the +material world that does not come into the sort of contact with a +living body that is required to turn it into a sensation. But this topic +belongs to the philosophy of physics, and need not concern us in our +present inquiry. + +Sensations are what is common to the mental and physical worlds; they +may be defined as the intersection of mind and matter. This is by no +means a new view; it is advocated, not only by the American authors I +have mentioned, but by Mach in his Analysis of Sensations, which was +published in 1886. The essence of sensation, according to the view I am +advocating, is its independence of past experience. It is a core in our +actual experiences, never existing in isolation except possibly in very +young infants. It is not itself knowledge, but it supplies the data for +our knowledge of the physical world, including our own bodies. + +There are some who believe that our mental life is built up out of +sensations alone. This may be true; but in any case I think the only +ingredients required in addition to sensations are images. What images +are, and how they are to be defined, we have now to inquire. + +The distinction between images and sensations might seem at first sight +by no means difficult. When we shut our eyes and call up pictures of +familiar scenes, we usually have no difficulty, so long as we remain +awake, in discriminating between what we are imagining and what is +really seen. If we imagine some piece of music that we know, we can go +through it in our mind from beginning to end without any discoverable +tendency to suppose that we are really hearing it. But although such +cases are so clear that no confusion seems possible, there are many +others that are far more difficult, and the definition of images is by +no means an easy problem. + +To begin with: we do not always know whether what we are experiencing is +a sensation or an image. The things we see in dreams when our eyes are +shut must count as images, yet while we are dreaming they seem like +sensations. Hallucinations often begin as persistent images, and only +gradually acquire that influence over belief that makes the patient +regard them as sensations. When we are listening for a faint sound--the +striking of a distant clock, or a horse's hoofs on the road--we think +we hear it many times before we really do, because expectation brings +us the image, and we mistake it for sensation. The distinction between +images and sensations is, therefore, by no means always obvious to +inspection.* + + * On the distinction between images and sensation, cf. + Semon, "Die mnemischen Empfindungen," pp. 19-20. + +We may consider three different ways in which it has been sought to +distinguish images from sensations, namely: + +(1) By the less degree of vividness in images; + +(2) By our absence of belief in their "physical reality"; + +(3) By the fact that their causes and effects are different from those +of sensations. + +I believe the third of these to be the only universally applicable +criterion. The other two are applicable in very many cases, but +cannot be used for purposes of definition because they are liable to +exceptions. Nevertheless, they both deserve to be carefully considered. + +(1) Hume, who gives the names "impressions" and "ideas" to what may, +for present purposes, be identified with our "sensations" and "images," +speaks of impressions as "those perceptions which enter with most force +and violence" while he defines ideas as "the faint images of these (i.e. +of impressions) in thinking and reasoning." His immediately following +observations, however, show the inadequacy of his criteria of "force" +and "faintness." He says: + +"I believe it will not be very necessary to employ many words in +explaining this distinction. Every one of himself will readily perceive +the difference betwixt feeling and thinking. The common degrees of these +are easily distinguished, though it is not impossible but in particular +instances they may very nearly approach to each other. Thus in sleep, in +a fever, in madness, or in any very violent emotions of soul, our ideas +may approach to our impressions; as, on the other hand, it sometimes +happens, that our impressions are so faint and low that we cannot +distinguish them from our ideas. But notwithstanding this near +resemblance in a few instances, they are in general so very different, +that no one can make a scruple to rank them under distinct heads, and +assign to each a peculiar name to mark the difference" ("Treatise of +Human Nature," Part I, Section I). + +I think Hume is right in holding that they should be ranked under +distinct heads, with a peculiar name for each. But by his own confession +in the above passage, his criterion for distinguishing them is not +always adequate. A definition is not sound if it only applies in cases +where the difference is glaring: the essential purpose of a definition +is to provide a mark which is applicable even in marginal cases--except, +of course, when we are dealing with a conception, like, e.g. baldness, +which is one of degree and has no sharp boundaries. But so far we have +seen no reason to think that the difference between sensations and +images is only one of degree. + +Professor Stout, in his "Manual of Psychology," after discussing various +ways of distinguishing sensations and images, arrives at a view which is +a modification of Hume's. He says (I quote from the second edition): + +"Our conclusion is that at bottom the distinction between image +and percept, as respectively faint and vivid states, is based on a +difference of quality. The percept has an aggressiveness which does not +belong to the image. It strikes the mind with varying degrees of force +or liveliness according to the varying intensity of the stimulus. This +degree of force or liveliness is part of what we ordinarily mean by +the intensity of a sensation. But this constituent of the intensity of +sensations is absent in mental imagery"(p. 419). + +This view allows for the fact that sensations may reach any degree of +faintness--e.g. in the case of a just visible star or a just audible +sound--without becoming images, and that therefore mere faintness cannot +be the characteristic mark of images. After explaining the sudden shock +of a flash of lightning or a steam-whistle, Stout says that "no mere +image ever does strike the mind in this manner"(p. 417). But I believe +that this criterion fails in very much the same instances as those in +which Hume's criterion fails in its original form. Macbeth speaks of-- + + that suggestion + Whose horrid image doth unfix my hair + And make my seated heart knock at my ribs + Against the use of nature. + +The whistle of a steam-engine could hardly have a stronger effect than +this. A very intense emotion will often bring with it--especially +where some future action or some undecided issue is involved--powerful +compelling images which may determine the whole course of life, sweeping +aside all contrary solicitations to the will by their capacity for +exclusively possessing the mind. And in all cases where images, +originally recognized as such, gradually pass into hallucinations, there +must be just that "force or liveliness" which is supposed to be always +absent from images. The cases of dreams and fever-delirium are as +hard to adjust to Professor Stout's modified criterion as to Hume's. I +conclude therefore that the test of liveliness, however applicable in +ordinary instances, cannot be used to define the differences between +sensations and images. + +(2) We might attempt to distinguish images from sensations by our +absence of belief in the "physical reality" of images. When we are aware +that what we are experiencing is an image, we do not give it the kind of +belief that we should give to a sensation: we do not think that it has +the same power of producing knowledge of the "external world." Images +are "imaginary"; in SOME sense they are "unreal." But this difference +is hard to analyse or state correctly. What we call the "unreality" of +images requires interpretation it cannot mean what would be expressed +by saying "there's no such thing." Images are just as truly part of the +actual world as sensations are. All that we really mean by calling an +image "unreal" is that it does not have the concomitants which it would +have if it were a sensation. When we call up a visual image of a chair, +we do not attempt to sit in it, because we know that, like Macbeth's +dagger, it is not "sensible to feeling as to sight"--i.e. it does not +have the correlations with tactile sensations which it would have if it +were a visual sensation and not merely a visual image. But this means +that the so-called "unreality" of images consists merely in their not +obeying the laws of physics, and thus brings us back to the causal +distinction between images and sensations. + +This view is confirmed by the fact that we only feel images to be +"unreal" when we already know them to be images. Images cannot be +defined by the FEELING of unreality, because when we falsely believe an +image to be a sensation, as in the case of dreams, it FEELS just as real +as if it were a sensation. Our feeling of unreality results from our +having already realized that we are dealing with an image, and cannot +therefore be the definition of what we mean by an image. As soon as an +image begins to deceive us as to its status, it also deceives us as to +its correlations, which are what we mean by its "reality." + +(3) This brings us to the third mode of distinguishing images from +sensations, namely, by their causes and effects. I believe this to be +the only valid ground of distinction. James, in the passage about the +mental fire which won't burn real sticks, distinguishes images by their +effects, but I think the more reliable distinction is by their causes. +Professor Stout (loc. cit., p. 127) says: "One characteristic mark of +what we agree in calling sensation is its mode of production. It is +caused by what we call a STIMULUS. A stimulus is always some condition +external to the nervous system itself and operating upon it." I think +that this is the correct view, and that the distinction between images +and sensations can only be made by taking account of their causation. +Sensations come through sense-organs, while images do not. We cannot +have visual sensations in the dark, or with our eyes shut, but we can +very well have visual images under these circumstances. Accordingly +images have been defined as "centrally excited sensations," i.e. +sensations which have their physiological cause in the brain only, not +also in the sense-organs and the nerves that run from the sense-organs +to the brain. I think the phrase "centrally excited sensations" assumes +more than is necessary, since it takes it for granted that an image must +have a proximate physiological cause. This is probably true, but it is +an hypothesis, and for our purposes an unnecessary one. It would seem to +fit better with what we can immediately observe if we were to say that +an image is occasioned, through association, by a sensation or another +image, in other words that it has a mnemic cause--which does not prevent +it from also having a physical cause. And I think it will be found that +the causation of an image always proceeds according to mnemic laws, i.e. +that it is governed by habit and past experience. If you listen to a man +playing the pianola without looking at him, you will have images of his +hands on the keys as if he were playing the piano; if you suddenly look +at him while you are absorbed in the music, you will experience a shock +of surprise when you notice that his hands are not touching the notes. +Your image of his hands is due to the many times that you have heard +similar sounds and at the same time seen the player's hands on the +piano. When habit and past experience play this part, we are in the +region of mnemic as opposed to ordinary physical causation. And I think +that, if we could regard as ultimately valid the difference between +physical and mnemic causation, we could distinguish images from +sensations as having mnemic causes, though they may also have physical +causes. Sensations, on the other hand, will only have physical causes. + +However this may be, the practically effective distinction between +sensations and images is that in the causation of sensations, but not +of images, the stimulation of nerves carrying an effect into the brain, +usually from the surface of the body, plays an essential part. And +this accounts for the fact that images and sensations cannot always be +distinguished by their intrinsic nature. + +Images also differ from sensations as regards their effects. Sensations, +as a rule, have both physical and mental effects. As you watch the train +you meant to catch leaving the station, there are both the successive +positions of the train (physical effects) and the successive waves +of fury and disappointment (mental effects). Images, on the contrary, +though they MAY produce bodily movements, do so according to mnemic +laws, not according to the laws of physics. All their effects, of +whatever nature, follow mnemic laws. But this difference is less +suitable for definition than the difference as to causes. + +Professor Watson, as a logical carrying-out of his behaviourist theory, +denies altogether that there are any observable phenomena such as +images are supposed to be. He replaces them all by faint sensations, and +especially by pronunciation of words sotto voce. When we "think" of a +table (say), as opposed to seeing it, what happens, according to him, is +usually that we are making small movements of the throat and tongue +such as would lead to our uttering the word "table" if they were more +pronounced. I shall consider his view again in connection with words; +for the present I am only concerned to combat his denial of images. This +denial is set forth both in his book on "Behavior" and in an article +called "Image and Affection in Behavior" in the "Journal of Philosophy, +Psychology and Scientific Methods," vol. x (July, 1913). It seems to me +that in this matter he has been betrayed into denying plain facts in +the interests of a theory, namely, the supposed impossibility of +introspection. I dealt with the theory in Lecture VI; for the present I +wish to reinforce the view that the facts are undeniable. + +Images are of various sorts, according to the nature of the sensations +which they copy. Images of bodily movements, such as we have when we +imagine moving an arm or, on a smaller scale, pronouncing a word, +might possibly be explained away on Professor Watson's lines, as really +consisting in small incipient movements such as, if magnified and +prolonged, would be the movements we are said to be imagining. Whether +this is the case or not might even be decided experimentally. If there +were a delicate instrument for recording small movements in the mouth +and throat, we might place such an instrument in a person's mouth and +then tell him to recite a poem to himself, as far as possible only in +imagination. I should not be at all surprised if it were found that +actual small movements take place while he is "mentally" saying over +the verses. The point is important, because what is called "thought" +consists mainly (though I think not wholly) of inner speech. If +Professor Watson is right as regards inner speech, this whole region +is transferred from imagination to sensation. But since the question +is capable of experimental decision, it would be gratuitous rashness to +offer an opinion while that decision is lacking. + +But visual and auditory images are much more difficult to deal with in +this way, because they lack the connection with physical events in the +outer world which belongs to visual and auditory sensations. Suppose, +for example, that I am sitting in my room, in which there is an empty +arm-chair. I shut my eyes, and call up a visual image of a friend +sitting in the arm-chair. If I thrust my image into the world of +physics, it contradicts all the usual physical laws. My friend reached +the chair without coming in at the door in the usual way; subsequent +inquiry will show that he was somewhere else at the moment. If regarded +as a sensation, my image has all the marks of the supernatural. My +image, therefore, is regarded as an event in me, not as having that +position in the orderly happenings of the public world that belongs to +sensations. By saying that it is an event in me, we leave it possible +that it may be PHYSIOLOGICALLY caused: its privacy may be only due to +its connection with my body. But in any case it is not a public event, +like an actual person walking in at the door and sitting down in +my chair. And it cannot, like inner speech, be regarded as a SMALL +sensation, since it occupies just as large an area in my visual field as +the actual sensation would do. + +Professor Watson says: "I should throw out imagery altogether +and attempt to show that all natural thought goes on in terms of +sensori-motor processes in the larynx." This view seems to me flatly to +contradict experience. If you try to persuade any uneducated person that +she cannot call up a visual picture of a friend sitting in a chair, but +can only use words describing what such an occurrence would be like, +she will conclude that you are mad. (This statement is based upon +experiment.) Galton, as every one knows, investigated visual imagery, +and found that education tends to kill it: the Fellows of the Royal +Society turned out to have much less of it than their wives. I see no +reason to doubt his conclusion that the habit of abstract pursuits makes +learned men much inferior to the average in power of visualizing, and +much more exclusively occupied with words in their "thinking." And +Professor Watson is a very learned man. + +I shall henceforth assume that the existence of images is admitted, and +that they are to be distinguished from sensations by their causes, +as well as, in a lesser degree, by their effects. In their intrinsic +nature, though they often differ from sensations by being more dim +or vague or faint, yet they do not always or universally differ from +sensations in any way that can be used for defining them. Their privacy +need form no bar to the scientific study of them, any more than the +privacy of bodily sensations does. Bodily sensations are admitted by +even the most severe critics of introspection, although, like images, +they can only be observed by one observer. It must be admitted, however, +that the laws of the appearance and disappearance of images are little +known and difficult to discover, because we are not assisted, as in the +case of sensations, by our knowledge of the physical world. + +There remains one very important point concerning images, which will +occupy us much hereafter, and that is, their resemblance to previous +sensations. They are said to be "copies" of sensations, always as +regards the simple qualities that enter into them, though not always +as regards the manner in which these are put together. It is generally +believed that we cannot imagine a shade of colour that we have never +seen, or a sound that we have never heard. On this subject Hume is the +classic. He says, in the definitions already quoted: + +"Those perceptions, which enter with most force and violence, we may +name IMPRESSIONS; and under this name I comprehend all our sensations, +passions and emotions, as they make their first appearance in the soul. +By IDEAS I mean the faint images of these in thinking and reasoning." + +He next explains the difference between simple and complex ideas, and +explains that a complex idea may occur without any similar complex +impression. But as regards simple ideas, he states that "every simple +idea has a simple impression, which resembles it, and every simple +impression a correspondent idea." He goes on to enunciate the general +principle "that all our simple ideas in their first appearance are +derived from simple impressions, which are correspondent to them, and +which they exactly represent" ("Treatise of Human Nature," Part I, +Section I). + +It is this fact, that images resemble antecedent sensations, which +enables us to call them images "of" this or that. For the understanding +of memory, and of knowledge generally, the recognizable resemblance of +images and sensations is of fundamental importance. + +There are difficulties in establishing Hume's principles, and doubts +as to whether it is exactly true. Indeed, he himself signalized an +exception immediately after stating his maxim. Nevertheless, it is +impossible to doubt that in the main simple images are copies of similar +simple sensations which have occurred earlier, and that the same is true +of complex images in all cases of memory as opposed to mere imagination. +Our power of acting with reference to what is sensibly absent is largely +due to this characteristic of images, although, as education advances, +images tend to be more and more replaced by words. We shall have much +to say in the next two lectures on the subject of images as copies of +sensations. What has been said now is merely by way of reminder that +this is their most notable characteristic. + +I am by no means confident that the distinction between images and +sensations is ultimately valid, and I should be glad to be convinced +that images can be reduced to sensations of a peculiar kind. I think it +is clear, however, that, at any rate in the case of auditory and visual +images, they do differ from ordinary auditory and visual sensations, and +therefore form a recognizable class of occurrences, even if it should +prove that they can be regarded as a sub-class of sensations. This is +all that is necessary to validate the use of images to be made in the +sequel. + + + + +LECTURE IX. MEMORY + +Memory, which we are to consider to-day, introduces us to knowledge in +one of its forms. The analysis of knowledge will occupy us until the end +of the thirteenth lecture, and is the most difficult part of our whole +enterprise. + +I do not myself believe that the analysis of knowledge can be effected +entirely by means of purely external observation, such as behaviourists +employ. I shall discuss this question in later lectures. In the present +lecture I shall attempt the analysis of memory-knowledge, both as an +introduction to the problem of knowledge in general, and because memory, +in some form, is presupposed in almost all other knowledge. Sensation, +we decided, is not a form of knowledge. It might, however, have +been expected that we should begin our discussion of knowledge with +PERCEPTION, i.e. with that integral experience of things in the +environment, out of which sensation is extracted by psychological +analysis. What is called perception differs from sensation by the fact +that the sensational ingredients bring up habitual associates--images +and expectations of their usual correlates--all of which are +subjectively indistinguishable from the sensation. The FACT of past +experience is essential in producing this filling-out of sensation, but +not the RECOLLECTION of past experience. The non-sensational elements in +perception can be wholly explained as the result of habit, produced +by frequent correlations. Perception, according to our definition in +Lecture VII, is no more a form of knowledge than sensation is, except +in so far as it involves expectations. The purely psychological problems +which it raises are not very difficult, though they have sometimes been +rendered artificially obscure by unwillingness to admit the fallibility +of the non-sensational elements of perception. On the other hand, memory +raises many difficult and very important problems, which it is necessary +to consider at the first possible moment. + +One reason for treating memory at this early stage is that it seems to +be involved in the fact that images are recognized as "copies" of +past sensible experience. In the preceding lecture I alluded to Hume's +principle "that all our simple ideas in their first appearance are +derived from simple impressions, which are correspondent to them, and +which they exactly represent." Whether or not this principle is liable +to exceptions, everyone would agree that is has a broad measure of +truth, though the word "exactly" might seem an overstatement, and +it might seem more correct to say that ideas APPROXIMATELY represent +impressions. Such modifications of Hume's principle, however, do not +affect the problem which I wish to present for your consideration, +namely: Why do we believe that images are, sometimes or always, +approximately or exactly, copies of sensations? What sort of evidence is +there? And what sort of evidence is logically possible? The difficulty +of this question arises through the fact that the sensation which an +image is supposed to copy is in the past when the image exists, and can +therefore only be known by memory, while, on the other hand, memory of +past sensations seems only possible by means of present images. How, +then, are we to find any way of comparing the present image and the past +sensation? The problem is just as acute if we say that images differ +from their prototypes as if we say that they resemble them; it is the +very possibility of comparison that is hard to understand.* We think +we can know that they are alike or different, but we cannot bring them +together in one experience and compare them. To deal with this problem, +we must have a theory of memory. In this way the whole status of images +as "copies" is bound up with the analysis of memory. + + * How, for example, can we obtain such knowledge as the + following: "If we look at, say, a red nose and perceive it, + and after a little while ekphore, its memory-image, we note + immediately how unlike, in its likeness, this memory-image + is to the original perception" (A. Wohlgemuth, "On the + Feelings and their Neural Correlate with an Examination of + the Nature of Pain," "Journal of Psychology," vol. viii, + part iv, June, 1917). + +In investigating memory-beliefs, there are certain points which must +be borne in mind. In the first place, everything constituting a +memory-belief is happening now, not in that past time to which the +belief is said to refer. It is not logically necessary to the existence +of a memory-belief that the event remembered should have occurred, +or even that the past should have existed at all. There is no logical +impossibility in the hypothesis that the world sprang into being five +minutes ago, exactly as it then was, with a population that "remembered" +a wholly unreal past. There is no logically necessary connection between +events at different times; therefore nothing that is happening now or +will happen in the future can disprove the hypothesis that the world +began five minutes ago. Hence the occurrences which are CALLED knowledge +of the past are logically independent of the past; they are wholly +analysable into present contents, which might, theoretically, be just +what they are even if no past had existed. + +I am not suggesting that the non-existence of the past should be +entertained as a serious hypothesis. Like all sceptical hypotheses, it +is logically tenable, but uninteresting. All that I am doing is to use +its logical tenability as a help in the analysis of what occurs when we +remember. + +In the second place, images without beliefs are insufficient to +constitute memory; and habits are still more insufficient. The +behaviourist, who attempts to make psychology a record of behaviour, has +to trust his memory in making the record. "Habit" is a concept involving +the occurrence of similar events at different times; if the behaviourist +feels confident that there is such a phenomenon as habit, that can only +be because he trusts his memory, when it assures him that there have +been other times. And the same applies to images. If we are to know as +it is supposed we do--that images are "copies," accurate or inaccurate, +of past events, something more than the mere occurrence of images must +go to constitute this knowledge. For their mere occurrence, by itself, +would not suggest any connection with anything that had happened before. + +Can we constitute memory out of images together with suitable beliefs? +We may take it that memory-images, when they occur in true memory, are +(a) known to be copies, (b) sometimes known to be imperfect copies +(cf. footnote on previous page). How is it possible to know that a +memory-image is an imperfect copy, without having a more accurate copy +by which to replace it? This would SEEM to suggest that we have a way +of knowing the past which is independent of images, by means of which +we can criticize image-memories. But I do not think such an inference is +warranted. + +What results, formally, from our knowledge of the past through images +of which we recognize the inaccuracy, is that such images must have two +characteristics by which we can arrange them in two series, of which one +corresponds to the more or less remote period in the past to which +they refer, and the other to our greater or less confidence in their +accuracy. We will take the second of these points first. + +Our confidence or lack of confidence in the accuracy of a memory-image +must, in fundamental cases, be based upon a characteristic of the image +itself, since we cannot evoke the past bodily and compare it with the +present image. It might be suggested that vagueness is the required +characteristic, but I do not think this is the case. We sometimes +have images that are by no means peculiarly vague, which yet we do not +trust--for example, under the influence of fatigue we may see a friend's +face vividly and clearly, but horribly distorted. In such a case we +distrust our image in spite of its being unusually clear. I think +the characteristic by which we distinguish the images we trust is the +feeling of FAMILIARITY that accompanies them. Some images, like some +sensations, feel very familiar, while others feel strange. Familiarity +is a feeling capable of degrees. In an image of a well-known face, +for example, some parts may feel more familiar than others; when this +happens, we have more belief in the accuracy of the familiar parts than +in that of the unfamiliar parts. I think it is by this means that we +become critical of images, not by some imageless memory with which +we compare them. I shall return to the consideration of familiarity +shortly. + +I come now to the other characteristic which memory-images must have +in order to account for our knowledge of the past. They must have some +characteristic which makes us regard them as referring to more or less +remote portions of the past. That is to say if we suppose that A is the +event remembered, B the remembering, and t the interval of time between +A and B, there must be some characteristic of B which is capable of +degrees, and which, in accurately dated memories, varies as t varies. +It may increase as t increases, or diminish as t increases. The question +which of these occurs is not of any importance for the theoretic +serviceability of the characteristic in question. + +In actual fact, there are doubtless various factors that concur in +giving us the feeling of greater or less remoteness in some remembered +event. There may be a specific feeling which could be called the feeling +of "pastness," especially where immediate memory is concerned. But apart +from this, there are other marks. One of these is context. A recent +memory has, usually, more context than a more distant one. When a +remembered event has a remembered context, this may occur in two ways, +either (a) by successive images in the same order as their prototypes, +or (b) by remembering a whole process simultaneously, in the same way in +which a present process may be apprehended, through akoluthic sensations +which, by fading, acquire the mark of just-pastness in an increasing +degree as they fade, and are thus placed in a series while all sensibly +present. It will be context in this second sense, more specially, that +will give us a sense of the nearness or remoteness of a remembered +event. + +There is, of course, a difference between knowing the temporal relation +of a remembered event to the present, and knowing the time-order of two +remembered events. Very often our knowledge of the temporal relation +of a remembered event to the present is inferred from its temporal +relations to other remembered events. It would seem that only rather +recent events can be placed at all accurately by means of feelings +giving their temporal relation to the present, but it is clear that such +feelings must play an essential part in the process of dating remembered +events. + +We may say, then, that images are regarded by us as more or less +accurate copies of past occurrences because they come to us with two +sorts of feelings: (1) Those that may be called feelings of familiarity; +(2) those that may be collected together as feelings giving a sense of +pastness. The first lead us to trust our memories, the second to assign +places to them in the time-order. + +We have now to analyse the memory-belief, as opposed to the +characteristics of images which lead us to base memory-beliefs upon +them. + +If we had retained the "subject" or "act" in knowledge, the whole +problem of memory would have been comparatively simple. We could then +have said that remembering is a direct relation between the present act +or subject and the past occurrence remembered: the act of remembering +is present, though its object is past. But the rejection of the subject +renders some more complicated theory necessary. Remembering has to be +a present occurrence in some way resembling, or related to, what is +remembered. And it is difficult to find any ground, except a pragmatic +one, for supposing that memory is not sheer delusion, if, as seems to be +the case, there is not, apart from memory, any way of ascertaining that +there really was a past occurrence having the required relation to our +present remembering. What, if we followed Meinong's terminology, we +should call the "object" in memory, i.e. the past event which we are +said to be remembering, is unpleasantly remote from the "content," i.e. +the present mental occurrence in remembering. There is an awkward gulf +between the two, which raises difficulties for the theory of knowledge. +But we must not falsify observation to avoid theoretical difficulties. +For the present, therefore, let us forget these problems, and try to +discover what actually occurs in memory. + +Some points may be taken as fixed, and such as any theory of memory must +arrive at. In this case, as in most others, what may be taken as certain +in advance is rather vague. The study of any topic is like the continued +observation of an object which is approaching us along a road: what is +certain to begin with is the quite vague knowledge that there is SOME +object on the road. If you attempt to be less vague, and to assert that +the object is an elephant, or a man, or a mad dog, you run a risk of +error; but the purpose of continued observation is to enable you to +arrive at such more precise knowledge. In like manner, in the study of +memory, the certainties with which you begin are very vague, and the +more precise propositions at which you try to arrive are less certain +than the hazy data from which you set out. Nevertheless, in spite of the +risk of error, precision is the goal at which we must aim. + +The first of our vague but indubitable data is that there is knowledge +of the past. We do not yet know with any precision what we mean by +"knowledge," and we must admit that in any given instance our memory may +be at fault. Nevertheless, whatever a sceptic might urge in theory, +we cannot practically doubt that we got up this morning, that we did +various things yesterday, that a great war has been taking place, and so +on. How far our knowledge of the past is due to memory, and how far to +other sources, is of course a matter to be investigated, but there can +be no doubt that memory forms an indispensable part of our knowledge of +the past. + +The second datum is that we certainly have more capacity for knowing the +past than for knowing the future. We know some things about the future, +for example what eclipses there will be; but this knowledge is a matter +of elaborate calculation and inference, whereas some of our knowledge of +the past comes to us without effort, in the same sort of immediate way +in which we acquire knowledge of occurrences in our present environment. +We might provisionally, though perhaps not quite correctly, define +"memory" as that way of knowing about the past which has no analogue in +our knowledge of the future; such a definition would at least serve to +mark the problem with which we are concerned, though some expectations +may deserve to rank with memory as regards immediacy. + +A third point, perhaps not quite so certain as our previous two, is that +the truth of memory cannot be wholly practical, as pragmatists wish +all truth to be. It seems clear that some of the things I remember are +trivial and without any visible importance for the future, but that my +memory is true (or false) in virtue of a past event, not in virtue of +any future consequences of my belief. The definition of truth as the +correspondence between beliefs and facts seems peculiarly evident in the +case of memory, as against not only the pragmatist definition but also +the idealist definition by means of coherence. These considerations, +however, are taking us away from psychology, to which we must now +return. + +It is important not to confuse the two forms of memory which Bergson +distinguishes in the second chapter of his "Matter and Memory," +namely the sort that consists of habit, and the sort that consists of +independent recollection. He gives the instance of learning a lesson +by heart: when I know it by heart I am said to "remember" it, but this +merely means that I have acquired certain habits; on the other hand, +my recollection of (say) the second time I read the lesson while I was +learning it is the recollection of a unique event, which occurred only +once. The recollection of a unique event cannot, so Bergson contends, +be wholly constituted by habit, and is in fact something radically +different from the memory which is habit. The recollection alone is true +memory. This distinction is vital to the understanding of memory. But +it is not so easy to carry out in practice as it is to draw in theory. +Habit is a very intrusive feature of our mental life, and is often +present where at first sight it seems not to be. There is, for example, +a habit of remembering a unique event. When we have once described the +event, the words we have used easily become habitual. We may even have +used words to describe it to ourselves while it was happening; in that +case, the habit of these words may fulfil the function of Bergson's true +memory, while in reality it is nothing but habit-memory. A gramophone, +by the help of suitable records, might relate to us the incidents of its +past; and people are not so different from gramophones as they like to +believe. + +In spite, however, of a difficulty in distinguishing the two forms of +memory in practice, there can be no doubt that both forms exist. I can +set to work now to remember things I never remembered before, such +as what I had to eat for breakfast this morning, and it can hardly be +wholly habit that enables me to do this. It is this sort of occurrence +that constitutes the essence of memory Until we have analysed what +happens in such a case as this, we have not succeeded in understanding +memory. + +The sort of memory with which we are here concerned is the sort which is +a form of knowledge. Whether knowledge itself is reducible to habit is +a question to which I shall return in a later lecture; for the present +I am only anxious to point out that, whatever the true analysis of +knowledge may be, knowledge of past occurrences is not proved by +behaviour which is due to past experience. The fact that a man can +recite a poem does not show that he remembers any previous occasion on +which he has recited or read it. Similarly, the performances of animals +in getting out of cages or mazes to which they are accustomed do not +prove that they remember having been in the same situation before. +Arguments in favour of (for example) memory in plants are only arguments +in favour of habit-memory, not of knowledge-memory. Samuel Butler's +arguments in favour of the view that an animal remembers something of +the lives of its ancestors* are, when examined, only arguments in favour +of habit-memory. Semon's two books, mentioned in an earlier lecture, do +not touch knowledge-memory at all closely. They give laws according to +which images of past occurrences come into our minds, but do not discuss +our belief that these images refer to past occurrences, which is what +constitutes knowledge-memory. It is this that is of interest to theory +of knowledge. I shall speak of it as "true" memory, to distinguish it +from mere habit acquired through past experience. Before considering +true memory, it will be well to consider two things which are on the way +towards memory, namely the feeling of familiarity and recognition. + + * See his "Life and Habit and Unconscious Memory." + +We often feel that something in our sensible environment is familiar, +without having any definite recollection of previous occasions on which +we have seen it. We have this feeling normally in places where we have +often been before--at home, or in well-known streets. Most people and +animals find it essential to their happiness to spend a good deal of +their time in familiar surroundings, which are especially comforting +when any danger threatens. The feeling of familiarity has all sorts +of degrees, down to the stage where we dimly feel that we have seen a +person before. It is by no means always reliable; almost everybody +has at some time experienced the well-known illusion that all that is +happening now happened before at some time. There are occasions when +familiarity does not attach itself to any definite object, when there is +merely a vague feeling that SOMETHING is familiar. This is illustrated +by Turgenev's "Smoke," where the hero is long puzzled by a haunting +sense that something in his present is recalling something in his past, +and at last traces it to the smell of heliotrope. Whenever the sense of +familiarity occurs without a definite object, it leads us to search the +environment until we are satisfied that we have found the appropriate +object, which leads us to the judgment: "THIS is familiar." I think +we may regard familiarity as a definite feeling, capable of existing +without an object, but normally standing in a specific relation to some +feature of the environment, the relation being that which we express in +words by saying that the feature in question is familiar. The judgment +that what is familiar has been experienced before is a product of +reflection, and is no part of the feeling of familiarity, such as a +horse may be supposed to have when he returns to his stable. Thus +no knowledge as to the past is to be derived from the feeling of +familiarity alone. + +A further stage is RECOGNITION. This may be taken in two senses, +the first when a thing not merely feels familiar, but we know it is +such-and-such. We recognize our friend Jones, we know cats and dogs +when we see them, and so on. Here we have a definite influence of past +experience, but not necessarily any actual knowledge of the past. When +we see a cat, we know it is a cat because of previous cats we have +seen, but we do not, as a rule, recollect at the moment any particular +occasion when we have seen a cat. Recognition in this sense does not +necessarily involve more than a habit of association: the kind of object +we are seeing at the moment is associated with the word "cat," or with +an auditory image of purring, or whatever other characteristic we may +happen to recognize in the cat of the moment. We are, of course, in +fact able to judge, when we recognize an object, that we have seen it +before, but this judgment is something over and above recognition in +this first sense, and may very probably be impossible to animals that +nevertheless have the experience of recognition in this first sense of +the word. + +There is, however, another sense of the word, in which we mean by +recognition, not knowing the name of a thing or some other property of +it, but knowing that we have seen it before In this sense recognition +does involve knowledge about the Fast. This knowledge is memory in +one sense, though in another it is not. It does not involve a definite +memory of a definite past event, but only the knowledge that something +happening now is similar to something that happened before. It differs +from the sense of familiarity by being cognitive; it is a belief or +judgment, which the sense of familiarity is not. I do not wish to +undertake the analysis of belief at present, since it will be the +subject of the twelfth lecture; for the present I merely wish to +emphasize the fact that recognition, in our second sense, consists in +a belief, which we may express approximately in the words: "This has +existed before." + +There are, however, several points in which such an account of +recognition is inadequate. To begin with, it might seem at first sight +more correct to define recognition as "I have seen this before" than +as "this has existed before." We recognize a thing (it may be urged) as +having been in our experience before, whatever that may mean; we do not +recognize it as merely having been in the world before. I am not sure +that there is anything substantial in this point. The definition of "my +experience" is difficult; broadly speaking, it is everything that is +connected with what I am experiencing now by certain links, of which +the various forms of memory are among the most important. Thus, if I +recognize a thing, the occasion of its previous existence in virtue +of which I recognize it forms part of "my experience" by DEFINITION: +recognition will be one of the marks by which my experience is singled +out from the rest of the world. Of course, the words "this has existed +before" are a very inadequate translation of what actually happens when +we form a judgment of recognition, but that is unavoidable: words are +framed to express a level of thought which is by no means primitive, +and are quite incapable of expressing such an elementary occurrence as +recognition. I shall return to what is virtually the same question in +connection with true memory, which raises exactly similar problems. + +A second point is that, when we recognize something, it was not in fact +the very same thing, but only something similar, that we experienced on +a former occasion. Suppose the object in question is a friend's face. A +person's face is always changing, and is not exactly the same on any two +occasions. Common sense treats it as one face with varying expressions; +but the varying expressions actually exist, each at its proper time, +while the one face is merely a logical construction. We regard two +objects as the same, for common-sense purposes, when the reaction they +call for is practically the same. Two visual appearances, to both +of which it is appropriate to say: "Hullo, Jones!" are treated as +appearances of one identical object, namely Jones. The name "Jones" is +applicable to both, and it is only reflection that shows us that many +diverse particulars are collected together to form the meaning of the +name "Jones." What we see on any one occasion is not the whole series of +particulars that make up Jones, but only one of them (or a few in quick +succession). On another occasion we see another member of the series, +but it is sufficiently similar to count as the same from the standpoint +of common sense. Accordingly, when we judge "I have seen THIS +before," we judge falsely if "this" is taken as applying to the actual +constituent of the world that we are seeing at the moment. The +word "this" must be interpreted vaguely so as to include anything +sufficiently like what we are seeing at the moment. Here, again, we +shall find a similar point as regards true memory; and in connection +with true memory we will consider the point again. It is sometimes +suggested, by those who favour behaviourist views, that recognition +consists in behaving in the same way when a stimulus is repeated as we +behaved on the first occasion when it occurred. This seems to be the +exact opposite of the truth. The essence of recognition is in the +DIFFERENCE between a repeated stimulus and a new one. On the first +occasion there is no recognition; on the second occasion there is. In +fact, recognition is another instance of the peculiarity of causal laws +in psychology, namely, that the causal unit is not a single event, but +two or more events Habit is the great instance of this, but recognition +is another. A stimulus occurring once has a certain effect; occurring +twice, it has the further effect of recognition. Thus the phenomenon +of recognition has as its cause the two occasions when the stimulus has +occurred; either alone is insufficient. This complexity of causes +in psychology might be connected with Bergson's arguments against +repetition in the mental world. It does not prove that there are no +causal laws in psychology, as Bergson suggests; but it does prove that +the causal laws of psychology are Prima facie very different from those +of physics. On the possibility of explaining away the difference as due +to the peculiarities of nervous tissue I have spoken before, but this +possibility must not be forgotten if we are tempted to draw unwarranted +metaphysical deductions. + +True memory, which we must now endeavour to understand, consists of +knowledge of past events, but not of all such knowledge. Some knowledge +of past events, for example what we learn through reading history, is +on a par with the knowledge we can acquire concerning the future: it +is obtained by inference, not (so to speak) spontaneously. There is +a similar distinction in our knowledge of the present: some of it is +obtained through the senses, some in more indirect ways. I know that +there are at this moment a number of people in the streets of New York, +but I do not know this in the immediate way in which I know of the +people whom I see by looking out of my window. It is not easy to state +precisely wherein the difference between these two sorts of knowledge +consists, but it is easy to feel the difference. For the moment, I shall +not stop to analyse it, but shall content myself with saying that, in +this respect, memory resembles the knowledge derived from the senses. +It is immediate, not inferred, not abstract; it differs from perception +mainly by being referred to the past. + +In regard to memory, as throughout the analysis of knowledge, there are +two very distinct problems, namely (1) as to the nature of the present +occurrence in knowing; (2) as to the relation of this occurrence to what +is known. When we remember, the knowing is now, while what is known is +in the past. Our two questions are, in the case of memory: + +(1) What is the present occurrence when we remember? + +(2) What is the relation of this present occurrence to the past event +which is remembered? + +Of these two questions, only the first concerns the psychologist; the +second belongs to theory of knowledge. At the same time, if we accept +the vague datum with which we began, to the effect that, in some sense, +there is knowledge of the past, we shall have to find, if we can, such +an account of the present occurrence in remembering as will make it not +impossible for remembering to give us knowledge of the past. For the +present, however, we shall do well to forget the problems concerning +theory of knowledge, and concentrate upon the purely psychological +problem of memory. + +Between memory-image and sensation there is an intermediate experience +concerning the immediate past. For example, a sound that we have just +heard is present to us in a way which differs both from the sensation +while we are hearing the sound and from the memory-image of something +heard days or weeks ago. James states that it is this way of +apprehending the immediate past that is "the ORIGINAL of our experience +of pastness, from whence we get the meaning of the term"("Psychology," +i, p. 604). Everyone knows the experience of noticing (say) that +the clock HAS BEEN striking, when we did not notice it while it was +striking. And when we hear a remark spoken, we are conscious of the +earlier words while the later ones are being uttered, and this retention +feels different from recollection of something definitely past. A +sensation fades gradually, passing by continuous gradations to the +status of an image. This retention of the immediate past in a condition +intermediate between sensation and image may be called "immediate +memory." Everything belonging to it is included with sensation in what +is called the "specious present." The specious present includes elements +at all stages on the journey from sensation to image. It is this fact +that enables us to apprehend such things as movements, or the order of +the words in a spoken sentence. Succession can occur within the specious +present, of which we can distinguish some parts as earlier and others as +later. It is to be supposed that the earliest parts are those that have +faded most from their original force, while the latest parts are those +that retain their full sensational character. At the beginning of a +stimulus we have a sensation; then a gradual transition; and at the +end an image. Sensations while they are fading are called "akoluthic" +sensations.* When the process of fading is completed (which happens very +quickly), we arrive at the image, which is capable of being revived on +subsequent occasions with very little change. True memory, as opposed to +"immediate memory," applies only to events sufficiently distant to +have come to an end of the period of fading. Such events, if they are +represented by anything present, can only be represented by images, not +by those intermediate stages, between sensations and images, which occur +during the period of fading. + + * See Semon, "Die mnemischen Empfindungen," chap. vi. + +Immediate memory is important both because it provides experience of +succession, and because it bridges the gulf between sensations and +the images which are their copies. But it is now time to resume the +consideration of true memory. + +Suppose you ask me what I ate for breakfast this morning. Suppose, +further, that I have not thought about my breakfast in the meantime, and +that I did not, while I was eating it, put into words what it consisted +of. In this case my recollection will be true memory, not habit-memory. +The process of remembering will consist of calling up images of my +breakfast, which will come to me with a feeling of belief such as +distinguishes memory-images from mere imagination-images. Or sometimes +words may come without the intermediary of images; but in this case +equally the feeling of belief is essential. + +Let us omit from our consideration, for the present, the memories +in which words replace images. These are always, I think, really +habit-memories, the memories that use images being the typical true +memories. + +Memory-images and imagination-images do not differ in their intrinsic +qualities, so far as we can discover. They differ by the fact that +the images that constitute memories, unlike those that constitute +imagination, are accompanied by a feeling of belief which may be +expressed in the words "this happened." The mere occurrence of images, +without this feeling of belief, constitutes imagination; it is the +element of belief that is the distinctive thing in memory.* + + * For belief of a specific kind, cf. Dorothy Wrinch "On the + Nature of Memory," "Mind," January, 1920. + +There are, if I am not mistaken, at least three different kinds of +belief-feeling, which we may call respectively memory, expectation and +bare assent. In what I call bare assent, there is no time-element in +the feeling of belief, though there may be in the content of what is +believed. If I believe that Caesar landed in Britain in B.C. 55, the +time-determination lies, not in the feeling of belief, but in what is +believed. I do not remember the occurrence, but have the same feeling +towards it as towards the announcement of an eclipse next year. But when +I have seen a flash of lightning and am waiting for the thunder, I +have a belief-feeling analogous to memory, except that it refers to the +future: I have an image of thunder, combined with a feeling which may be +expressed in the words: "this will happen." So, in memory, the pastness +lies, not in the content of what is believed, but in the nature of +the belief-feeling. I might have just the same images and expect their +realization; I might entertain them without any belief, as in reading a +novel; or I might entertain them together with a time-determination, and +give bare assent, as in reading history. I shall return to this subject +in a later lecture, when we come to the analysis of belief. For the +present, I wish to make it clear that a certain special kind of belief +is the distinctive characteristic of memory. + + +The problem as to whether memory can be explained as habit or +association requires to be considered afresh in connection with the +causes of our remembering something. Let us take again the case of my +being asked what I had for breakfast this morning. In this case the +question leads to my setting to work to recollect. It is a little +strange that the question should instruct me as to what it is that I am +to recall. This has to do with understanding words, which will be the +topic of the next lecture; but something must be said about it now. Our +understanding of the words "breakfast this morning" is a habit, in spite +of the fact that on each fresh day they point to a different occasion. +"This morning" does not, whenever it is used, mean the same thing, as +"John" or "St. Paul's" does; it means a different period of time on +each different day. It follows that the habit which constitutes +our understanding of the words "this morning" is not the habit of +associating the words with a fixed object, but the habit of associating +them with something having a fixed time-relation to our present. This +morning has, to-day, the same time-relation to my present that yesterday +morning had yesterday. In order to understand the phrase "this morning" +it is necessary that we should have a way of feeling time-intervals, +and that this feeling should give what is constant in the meaning of the +words "this morning." This appreciation of time-intervals is, however, +obviously a product of memory, not a presupposition of it. It will be +better, therefore, if we wish to analyse the causation of memory by +something not presupposing memory, to take some other instance than that +of a question about "this morning." + +Let us take the case of coming into a familiar room where something has +been changed--say a new picture hung on the wall. We may at first +have only a sense that SOMETHING is unfamiliar, but presently we shall +remember, and say "that picture was not on the wall before." In order to +make the case definite, we will suppose that we were only in the room +on one former occasion. In this case it seems fairly clear what happens. +The other objects in the room are associated, through the former +occasion, with a blank space of wall where now there is a picture. They +call up an image of a blank wall, which clashes with perception of the +picture. The image is associated with the belief-feeling which we found +to be distinctive of memory, since it can neither be abolished nor +harmonized with perception. If the room had remained unchanged, we +might have had only the feeling of familiarity without the definite +remembering; it is the change that drives us from the present to memory +of the past. + +We may generalize this instance so as to cover the causes of many +memories. Some present feature of the environment is associated, through +past experiences, with something now absent; this absent something comes +before us as an image, and is contrasted with present sensation. In +cases of this sort, habit (or association) explains why the present +feature of the environment brings up the memory-image, but it does +not explain the memory-belief. Perhaps a more complete analysis could +explain the memory-belief also on lines of association and habit, but +the causes of beliefs are obscure, and we cannot investigate them +yet. For the present we must content ourselves with the fact that the +memory-image can be explained by habit. As regards the memory-belief, +we must, at least provisionally, accept Bergson's view that it cannot be +brought under the head of habit, at any rate when it first occurs, i.e. +when we remember something we never remembered before. + +We must now consider somewhat more closely the content of a +memory-belief. The memory-belief confers upon the memory-image something +which we may call "meaning;" it makes us feel that the image points to +an object which existed in the past. In order to deal with this topic +we must consider the verbal expression of the memory-belief. We might +be tempted to put the memory-belief into the words: "Something like +this image occurred." But such words would be very far from an accurate +translation of the simplest kind of memory-belief. "Something like this +image" is a very complicated conception. In the simplest kind of memory +we are not aware of the difference between an image and the sensation +which it copies, which may be called its "prototype." When the image +is before us, we judge rather "this occurred." The image is not +distinguished from the object which existed in the past: the word "this" +covers both, and enables us to have a memory-belief which does not +introduce the complicated notion "something like this." + +It might be objected that, if we judge "this occurred" when in fact +"this" is a present image, we judge falsely, and the memory-belief, +so interpreted, becomes deceptive. This, however, would be a mistake, +produced by attempting to give to words a precision which they do not +possess when used by unsophisticated people. It is true that the image +is not absolutely identical with its prototype, and if the word "this" +meant the image to the exclusion of everything else, the judgment "this +occurred" would be false. But identity is a precise conception, and no +word, in ordinary speech, stands for anything precise. Ordinary speech +does not distinguish between identity and close similarity. A word +always applies, not only to one particular, but to a group of associated +particulars, which are not recognized as multiple in common thought or +speech. Thus primitive memory, when it judges that "this occurred," is +vague, but not false. + +Vague identity, which is really close similarity, has been a source +of many of the confusions by which philosophy has lived. Of a vague +subject, such as a "this," which is both an image and its prototype, +contradictory predicates are true simultaneously: this existed and does +not exist, since it is a thing remembered, but also this exists and did +not exist, since it is a present image. Hence Bergson's +interpenetration of the present by the past, Hegelian continuity and +identity-in-diversity, and a host of other notions which are thought to +be profound because they are obscure and confused. The contradictions +resulting from confounding image and prototype in memory force us to +precision. But when we become precise, our remembering becomes different +from that of ordinary life, and if we forget this we shall go wrong in +the analysis of ordinary memory. + +Vagueness and accuracy are important notions, which it is very necessary +to understand. Both are a matter of degree. All thinking is vague +to some extent, and complete accuracy is a theoretical ideal not +practically attainable. To understand what is meant by accuracy, it will +be well to consider first instruments of measurement, such as a balance +or a thermometer. These are said to be accurate when they give different +results for very slightly different stimuli.* A clinical thermometer +is accurate when it enables us to detect very slight differences in the +temperature of the blood. We may say generally that an instrument +is accurate in proportion as it reacts differently to very slightly +different stimuli. When a small difference of stimulus produces a great +difference of reaction, the instrument is accurate; in the contrary case +it is not. + + * This is a necessary but not a sufficient condition. The + subject of accuracy and vagueness will be considered again + in Lecture XIII. + +Exactly the same thing applies in defining accuracy of thought +or perception. A musician will respond differently to very minute +differences in playing which would be quite imperceptible to the +ordinary mortal. A negro can see the difference between one negro and +another one is his friend, another his enemy. But to us such different +responses are impossible: we can merely apply the word "negro" +indiscriminately. Accuracy of response in regard to any particular kind +of stimulus is improved by practice. Understanding a language is a +case in point. Few Frenchmen can hear any difference between the sounds +"hall" and "hole," which produce quite different impressions upon us. +The two statements "the hall is full of water" and "the hole is full +of water" call for different responses, and a hearing which cannot +distinguish between them is inaccurate or vague in this respect. + +Precision and vagueness in thought, as in perception, depend upon the +degree of difference between responses to more or less similar stimuli. +In the case of thought, the response does not follow immediately upon +the sensational stimulus, but that makes no difference as regards our +present question. Thus to revert to memory: A memory is "vague" when +it is appropriate to many different occurrences: for instance, "I met a +man" is vague, since any man would verify it. A memory is "precise" when +the occurrences that would verify it are narrowly circumscribed: for +instance, "I met Jones" is precise as compared to "I met a man." A +memory is "accurate" when it is both precise and true, i.e. in the above +instance, if it was Jones I met. It is precise even if it is false, +provided some very definite occurrence would have been required to make +it true. + +It follows from what has been said that a vague thought has more +likelihood of being true than a precise one. To try and hit an object +with a vague thought is like trying to hit the bull's eye with a lump of +putty: when the putty reaches the target, it flattens out all over it, +and probably covers the bull's eye along with the rest. To try and hit +an object with a precise thought is like trying to hit the bull's +eye with a bullet. The advantage of the precise thought is that it +distinguishes between the bull's eye and the rest of the target. For +example, if the whole target is represented by the fungus family and the +bull's eye by mushrooms, a vague thought which can only hit the target +as a whole is not much use from a culinary point of view. And when I +merely remember that I met a man, my memory may be very inadequate to my +practical requirements, since it may make a great difference whether I +met Brown or Jones. The memory "I met Jones" is relatively precise. It +is accurate if I met Jones, inaccurate if I met Brown, but precise in +either case as against the mere recollection that I met a man. + +The distinction between accuracy and precision is however, not +fundamental. We may omit precision from out thoughts and confine +ourselves to the distinction between accuracy and vagueness. We may then +set up the following definitions: + +An instrument is "reliable" with respect to a given set of stimuli when +to stimuli which are not relevantly different it gives always responses +which are not relevantly different. + +An instrument is a "measure" of a set of stimuli which are serially +ordered when its responses, in all cases where they are relevantly +different, are arranged in a series in the same order. + +The "degree of accuracy" of an instrument which is a reliable measurer +is the ratio of the difference of response to the difference of stimulus +in cases where the difference of stimulus is small.* That is to say, if +a small difference of stimulus produces a great difference of response, +the instrument is very accurate; in the contrary case, very inaccurate. + + * Strictly speaking, the limit of this, i.e. the derivative + of the response with respect to the stimulus. + +A mental response is called "vague" in proportion to its lack of +accuracy, or rather precision. + +These definitions will be found useful, not only in the case of memory, +but in almost all questions concerned with knowledge. + +It should be observed that vague beliefs, so far from being necessarily +false, have a better chance of truth than precise ones, though their +truth is less valuable than that of precise beliefs, since they do not +distinguish between occurrences which may differ in important ways. + +The whole of the above discussion of vagueness and accuracy was +occasioned by the attempt to interpret the word "this" when we judge in +verbal memory that "this occurred." The word "this," in such a judgment, +is a vague word, equally applicable to the present memory-image and to +the past occurrence which is its prototype. A vague word is not to be +identified with a general word, though in practice the distinction +may often be blurred. A word is general when it is understood to be +applicable to a number of different objects in virtue of some common +property. A word is vague when it is in fact applicable to a number of +different objects because, in virtue of some common property, they +have not appeared, to the person using the word, to be distinct. I +emphatically do not mean that he has judged them to be identical, but +merely that he has made the same response to them all and has not judged +them to be different. We may compare a vague word to a jelly and +a general word to a heap of shot. Vague words precede judgments +of identity and difference; both general and particular words are +subsequent to such judgments. The word "this" in the primitive +memory-belief is a vague word, not a general word; it covers both the +image and its prototype because the two are not distinguished.* + + * On the vague and the general cf. Ribot: "Evolution of + General Ideas," Open Court Co., 1899, p. 32: "The sole + permissible formula is this: Intelligence progresses from + the indefinite to the definite. If 'indefinite' is taken as + synonymous with general, it may be said that the particular + does not appear at the outset, but neither does the general + in any exact sense: the vague would be more appropriate. In + other words, no sooner has the intellect progressed beyond + the moment of perception and of its immediate reproduction + in memory, than the generic image makes its appearance, i.e. + a state intermediate between the particular and the general, + participating in the nature of the one and of the other--a + confused simplification." + +But we have not yet finished our analysis of the memory-belief. The +tense in the belief that "this occurred" is provided by the nature of +the belief-feeling involved in memory; the word "this," as we have seen, +has a vagueness which we have tried to describe. But we must still ask +what we mean by "occurred." The image is, in one sense, occurring now; +and therefore we must find some other sense in which the past event +occurred but the image does not occur. + +There are two distinct questions to be asked: (1) What causes us to say +that a thing occurs? (2) What are we feeling when we say this? As to the +first question, in the crude use of the word, which is what concerns us, +memory-images would not be said to occur; they would not be noticed +in themselves, but merely used as signs of the past event. Images are +"merely imaginary"; they have not, in crude thought, the sort of reality +that belongs to outside bodies. Roughly speaking, "real" things would +be those that can cause sensations, those that have correlations of the +sort that constitute physical objects. A thing is said to be "real" +or to "occur" when it fits into a context of such correlations. The +prototype of our memory-image did fit into a physical context, while +our memory-image does not. This causes us to feel that the prototype was +"real," while the image is "imaginary." + +But the answer to our second question, namely as to what we are feeling +when we say a thing "occurs" or is "real," must be somewhat different. +We do not, unless we are unusually reflective, think about the presence +or absence of correlations: we merely have different feelings which, +intellectualized, may be represented as expectations of the presence +or absence of correlations. A thing which "feels real" inspires us with +hopes or fears, expectations or curiosities, which are wholly absent +when a thing "feels imaginary." The feeling of reality is a feeling akin +to respect: it belongs PRIMARILY to whatever can do things to us without +our voluntary co-operation. This feeling of reality, related to +the memory-image, and referred to the past by the specific kind of +belief-feeling that is characteristic of memory, seems to be what +constitutes the act of remembering in its pure form. + +We may now summarize our analysis of pure memory. + +Memory demands (a) an image, (b) a belief in past existence. The belief +may be expressed in the words "this existed." + +The belief, like every other, may be analysed into (1) the believing, +(2) what is believed. The believing is a specific feeling or sensation +or complex of sensations, different from expectation or bare assent in +a way that makes the belief refer to the past; the reference to the +past lies in the belief-feeling, not in the content believed. There is +a relation between the belief-feeling and the content, making the +belief-feeling refer to the content, and expressed by saying that the +content is what is believed. + +The content believed may or may not be expressed in words. Let us +take first the case when it is not. In that case, if we are merely +remembering that something of which we now have an image occurred, +the content consists of (a) the image, (b) the feeling, analogous +to respect, which we translate by saying that something is "real" as +opposed to "imaginary," (c) a relation between the image and the feeling +of reality, of the sort expressed when we say that the feeling refers +to the image. This content does not contain in itself any +time-determination. + +The time-determination lies in the nature of the belief feeling, which +is that called "remembering" or (better) "recollecting." It is only +subsequent reflection upon this reference to the past that makes us +realize the distinction between the image and the event recollected. +When we have made this distinction, we can say that the image "means" +the past event. + +The content expressed in words is best represented by the words "the +existence of this," since these words do not involve tense, which +belongs to the belief-feeling, not to the content. Here "this" is +a vague term, covering the memory-image and anything very like it, +including its prototype. "Existence" expresses the feeling of a +"reality" aroused primarily by whatever can have effects upon us without +our voluntary co-operation. The word "of" in the phrase "the existence +of this" represents the relation which subsists between the feeling of +reality and the "this." + +This analysis of memory is probably extremely faulty, but I do not know +how to improve it. + +NOTE.-When I speak of a FEELING of belief, I use the word "feeling" in +a popular sense, to cover a sensation or an image or a complex of +sensations or images or both; I use this word because I do not wish to +commit myself to any special analysis of the belief-feeling. + + + + +LECTURE X. WORDS AND MEANING + +The problem with which we shall be concerned in this lecture is the +problem of determining what is the relation called "meaning." The word +"Napoleon," we say, "means" a certain person. In saying this, we are +asserting a relation between the word "Napoleon" and the person so +designated. It is this relation that we must now investigate. + +Let us first consider what sort of object a word is when considered +simply as a physical thing, apart from its meaning. To begin with, there +are many instances of a word, namely all the different occasions when it +is employed. Thus a word is not something unique and particular, but a +set of occurrences. If we confine ourselves to spoken words, a word has +two aspects, according as we regard it from the point of view of the +speaker or from that of the hearer. From the point of view of the +speaker, a single instance of the use of a word consists of a certain +set of movements in the throat and mouth, combined with breath. From +the point of view of the hearer, a single instance of the use of a +word consists of a certain series of sounds, each being approximately +represented by a single letter in writing, though in practice a letter +may represent several sounds, or several letters may represent one +sound. The connection between the spoken word and the word as it reaches +the hearer is causal. Let us confine ourselves to the spoken word, which +is the more important for the analysis of what is called "thought." +Then we may say that a single instance of the spoken word consists of +a series of movements, and the word consists of a whole set of such +series, each member of the set being very similar to each other member. +That is to say, any two instances of the word "Napoleon" are very +similar, and each instance consists of a series of movements in the +mouth. + +A single word, accordingly, is by no means simple it is a class of +similar series of movements (confining ourselves still to the spoken +word). The degree of similarity required cannot be precisely defined: +a man may pronounce the word "Napoleon" so badly that it can hardly be +determined whether he has really pronounced it or not. The instances +of a word shade off into other movements by imperceptible degrees. And +exactly analogous observations apply to words heard or written or read. +But in what has been said so far we have not even broached the +question of the DEFINITION of a word, since "meaning" is clearly what +distinguishes a word from other sets of similar movements, and "meaning" +remains to be defined. + +It is natural to think of the meaning of a word as something +conventional. This, however, is only true with great limitations. A new +word can be added to an existing language by a mere convention, as +is done, for instance, with new scientific terms. But the basis of +a language is not conventional, either from the point of view of the +individual or from that of the community. A child learning to speak is +learning habits and associations which are just as much determined by +the environment as the habit of expecting dogs to bark and cocks to +crow. The community that speaks a language has learnt it, and modified +it by processes almost all of which are not deliberate, but the results +of causes operating according to more or less ascertainable laws. If +we trace any Indo-European language back far enough, we arrive +hypothetically (at any rate according to some authorities) at the stage +when language consisted only of the roots out of which subsequent words +have grown. How these roots acquired their meanings is not known, but a +conventional origin is clearly just as mythical as the social contract +by which Hobbes and Rousseau supposed civil government to have been +established. We can hardly suppose a parliament of hitherto speechless +elders meeting together and agreeing to call a cow a cow and a wolf a +wolf. The association of words with their meanings must have grown up +by some natural process, though at present the nature of the process is +unknown. + +Spoken and written words are, of course, not the only way of conveying +meaning. A large part of one of Wundt's two vast volumes on language in +his "Volkerpsychologie" is concerned with gesture-language. Ants appear +to be able to communicate a certain amount of information by means of +their antennae. Probably writing itself, which we now regard as merely +a way of representing speech, was originally an independent language, +as it has remained to this day in China. Writing seems to have consisted +originally of pictures, which gradually became conventionalized, coming +in time to represent syllables, and finally letters on the telephone +principle of "T for Tommy." But it would seem that writing nowhere +began as an attempt to represent speech it began as a direct pictorial +representation of what was to be expressed. The essence of language +lies, not in the use of this or that special means of communication, +but in the employment of fixed associations (however these may have +originated) in order that something now sensible--a spoken word, a +picture, a gesture, or what not--may call up the "idea" of something +else. Whenever this is done, what is now sensible may be called a "sign" +or "symbol," and that of which it is intended to call up the "idea" may +be called its "meaning." This is a rough outline of what constitutes +"meaning." But we must fill in the outline in various ways. And, +since we are concerned with what is called "thought," we must pay more +attention than we otherwise should do to the private as opposed to the +social use of language. Language profoundly affects our thoughts, and +it is this aspect of language that is of most importance to us in our +present inquiry. We are almost more concerned with the internal speech +that is never uttered than we are with the things said out loud to other +people. + +When we ask what constitutes meaning, we are not asking what is the +meaning of this or that particular word. The word "Napoleon" means a +certain individual; but we are asking, not who is the individual meant, +but what is the relation of the word to the individual which makes the +one mean the other. But just as it is useful to realize the nature of a +word as part of the physical world, so it is useful to realize the sort +of thing that a word may mean. When we are clear both as to what a word +is in its physical aspect, and as to what sort of thing it can mean, we +are in a better position to discover the relation of the two which is +meaning. + +The things that words mean differ more than words do. There are +different sorts of words, distinguished by the grammarians; and there +are logical distinctions, which are connected to some extent, though not +so closely as was formerly supposed, with the grammatical distinctions +of parts of speech. It is easy, however, to be misled by grammar, +particularly if all the languages we know belong to one family. In some +languages, according to some authorities, the distinction of parts of +speech does not exist; in many languages it is widely different from +that to which we are accustomed in the Indo-European languages. These +facts have to be borne in mind if we are to avoid giving metaphysical +importance to mere accidents of our own speech. + +In considering what words mean, it is natural to start with proper +names, and we will again take "Napoleon" as our instance. We commonly +imagine, when we use a proper name, that we mean one definite entity, +the particular individual who was called "Napoleon." But what we know +as a person is not simple. There MAY be a single simple ego which was +Napoleon, and remained strictly identical from his birth to his death. +There is no way of proving that this cannot be the case, but there is +also not the slightest reason to suppose that it is the case. Napoleon +as he was empirically known consisted of a series of gradually changing +appearances: first a squalling baby, then a boy, then a slim and +beautiful youth, then a fat and slothful person very magnificently +dressed This series of appearances, and various occurrences having +certain kinds of causal connections with them, constitute Napoleon as +empirically known, and therefore are Napoleon in so far as he forms +part of the experienced world. Napoleon is a complicated series of +occurrences, bound together by causal laws, not, like instances of a +word, by similarities. For although a person changes gradually, and +presents similar appearances on two nearly contemporaneous occasions, +it is not these similarities that constitute the person, as appears from +the "Comedy of Errors" for example. + +Thus in the case of a proper name, while the word is a set of similar +series of movements, what it means is a series of occurrences bound +together by causal laws of that special kind that makes the occurrences +taken together constitute what we call one person, or one animal or +thing, in case the name applies to an animal or thing instead of to +a person. Neither the word nor what it names is one of the ultimate +indivisible constituents of the world. In language there is no direct +way of designating one of the ultimate brief existents that go to make +up the collections we call things or persons. If we want to speak of +such existents--which hardly happens except in philosophy--we have to do +it by means of some elaborate phrase, such as "the visual sensation +which occupied the centre of my field of vision at noon on January 1, +1919." Such ultimate simples I call "particulars." Particulars MIGHT +have proper names, and no doubt would have if language had been invented +by scientifically trained observers for purposes of philosophy and +logic. But as language was invented for practical ends, particulars have +remained one and all without a name. + +We are not, in practice, much concerned with the actual particulars +that come into our experience in sensation; we are concerned rather +with whole systems to which the particulars belong and of which they +are signs. What we see makes us say "Hullo, there's Jones," and the fact +that what we see is a sign of Jones (which is the case because it is one +of the particulars that make up Jones) is more interesting to us than +the actual particular itself. Hence we give the name "Jones" to the +whole set of particulars, but do not trouble to give separate names to +the separate particulars that make up the set. + +Passing on from proper names, we come next to general names, such as +"man," "cat," "triangle." A word such as "man" means a whole class +of such collections of particulars as have proper names. The several +members of the class are assembled together in virtue of some similarity +or common property. All men resemble each other in certain important +respects; hence we want a word which shall be equally applicable to all +of them. We only give proper names to the individuals of a species when +they differ inter se in practically important respects. In other cases +we do not do this. A poker, for instance, is just a poker; we do not +call one "John" and another "Peter." + +There is a large class of words, such as "eating," "walking," +"speaking," which mean a set of similar occurrences. Two instances of +walking have the same name because they resemble each other, whereas +two instances of Jones have the same name because they are causally +connected. In practice, however, it is difficult to make any precise +distinction between a word such as "walking" and a general name such as +"man." One instance of walking cannot be concentrated into an instant: +it is a process in time, in which there is a causal connection between +the earlier and later parts, as between the earlier and later parts +of Jones. Thus an instance of walking differs from an instance of man +solely by the fact that it has a shorter life. There is a notion that an +instance of walking, as compared with Jones, is unsubstantial, but this +seems to be a mistake. We think that Jones walks, and that there could +not be any walking unless there were somebody like Jones to perform +the walking. But it is equally true that there could be no Jones unless +there were something like walking for him to do. The notion that actions +are performed by an agent is liable to the same kind of criticism as +the notion that thinking needs a subject or ego, which we rejected in +Lecture I. To say that it is Jones who is walking is merely to say that +the walking in question is part of the whole series of occurrences which +is Jones. There is no LOGICAL impossibility in walking occurring as an +isolated phenomenon, not forming part of any such series as we call a +"person." + +We may therefore class with "eating," "walking," "speaking" words +such as "rain," "sunrise," "lightning," which do not denote what would +commonly be called actions. These words illustrate, incidentally, how +little we can trust to the grammatical distinction of parts of speech, +since the substantive "rain" and the verb "to rain" denote precisely the +same class of meteorological occurrences. The distinction between the +class of objects denoted by such a word and the class of objects denoted +by a general name such as "man," "vegetable," or "planet," is that the +sort of object which is an instance of (say) "lightning" is much simpler +than (say) an individual man. (I am speaking of lightning as a sensible +phenomenon, not as it is described in physics.) The distinction is one +of degree, not of kind. But there is, from the point of view of ordinary +thought, a great difference between a process which, like a flash of +lightning, can be wholly comprised within one specious present and a +process which, like the life of a man, has to be pieced together by +observation and memory and the apprehension of causal connections. +We may say broadly, therefore, that a word of the kind we have been +discussing denotes a set of similar occurrences, each (as a rule) much +more brief and less complex than a person or thing. Words themselves, as +we have seen, are sets of similar occurrences of this kind. Thus there +is more logical affinity between a word and what it means in the case of +words of our present sort than in any other case. + +There is no very great difference between such words as we have just +been considering and words denoting qualities, such as "white" or +"round." The chief difference is that words of this latter sort do not +denote processes, however brief, but static features of the world. Snow +falls, and is white; the falling is a process, the whiteness is not. +Whether there is a universal, called "whiteness," or whether white +things are to be defined as those having a certain kind of similarity to +a standard thing, say freshly fallen snow, is a question which need +not concern us, and which I believe to be strictly insoluble. For our +purposes, we may take the word "white" as denoting a certain set of +similar particulars or collections of particulars, the similarity being +in respect of a static quality, not of a process. + +From the logical point of view, a very important class of words +are those that express relations, such as "in," "above," "before," +"greater," and so on. The meaning of one of these words differs very +fundamentally from the meaning of one of any of our previous classes, +being more abstract and logically simpler than any of them. If our +business were logic, we should have to spend much time on these words. +But as it is psychology that concerns us, we will merely note their +special character and pass on, since the logical classification of words +is not our main business. + +We will consider next the question what is implied by saying that a +person "understands" a word, in the sense in which one understands +a word in one's own language, but not in a language of which one is +ignorant. We may say that a person understands a word when (a) suitable +circumstances make him use it, (b) the hearing of it causes suitable +behaviour in him. We may call these two active and passive understanding +respectively. Dogs often have passive understanding of some words, but +not active understanding, since they cannot use words. + +It is not necessary, in order that a man should "understand" a word, +that he should "know what it means," in the sense of being able to say +"this word means so-and-so." Understanding words does not consist in +knowing their dictionary definitions, or in being able to specify the +objects to which they are appropriate. Such understanding as this may +belong to lexicographers and students, but not to ordinary mortals +in ordinary life. Understanding language is more like understanding +cricket*: it is a matter of habits, acquired in oneself and rightly +presumed in others. To say that a word has a meaning is not to say that +those who use the word correctly have ever thought out what the meaning +is: the use of the word comes first, and the meaning is to be distilled +out of it by observation and analysis. Moreover, the meaning of a word +is not absolutely definite: there is always a greater or less degree of +vagueness. The meaning is an area, like a target: it may have a bull's +eye, but the outlying parts of the target are still more or less within +the meaning, in a gradually diminishing degree as we travel further from +the bull's eye. As language grows more precise, there is less and less +of the target outside the bull's eye, and the bull's eye itself grows +smaller and smaller; but the bull's eye never shrinks to a point, and +there is always a doubtful region, however small, surrounding it.** + + * This point of view, extended to the analysis of "thought" + is urged with great force by J. B. Watson, both in his + "Behavior," and in "Psychology from the Standpoint of a + Behaviorist" (Lippincott. 1919), chap. ix. + + ** On the understanding of words, a very admirable little + book is Ribot's "Evolution of General Ideas," Open Court + Co., 1899. Ribot says (p. 131): "We learn to understand a + concept as we learn to walk, dance, fence or play a musical + instrument: it is a habit, i.e. an organized memory. General + terms cover an organized, latent knowledge which is the + hidden capital without which we should be in a state of + bankruptcy, manipulating false money or paper of no value. + General ideas are habits in the intellectual order." + +A word is used "correctly" when the average hearer will be affected +by it in the way intended. This is a psychological, not a literary, +definition of "correctness." The literary definition would substitute, +for the average hearer, a person of high education living a long time +ago; the purpose of this definition is to make it difficult to speak or +write correctly. + +The relation of a word to its meaning is of the nature of a causal law +governing our use of the word and our actions when we hear it used. +There is no more reason why a person who uses a word correctly should +be able to tell what it means than there is why a planet which is moving +correctly should know Kepler's laws. + +To illustrate what is meant by "understanding" words and sentences, let +us take instances of various situations. + +Suppose you are walking in London with an absent-minded friend, and +while crossing a street you say, "Look out, there's a motor coming." +He will glance round and jump aside without the need of any "mental" +intermediary. There need be no "ideas," but only a stiffening of the +muscles, followed quickly by action. He "understands" the words, because +he does the right thing. Such "understanding" may be taken to belong to +the nerves and brain, being habits which they have acquired while the +language was being learnt. Thus understanding in this sense may be +reduced to mere physiological causal laws. + +If you say the same thing to a Frenchman with a slight knowledge of +English he will go through some inner speech which may be represented by +"Que dit-il? Ah, oui, une automobile!" After this, the rest follows as +with the Englishman. Watson would contend that the inner speech must be +incipiently pronounced; we should argue that it MIGHT be merely imaged. +But this point is not important in the present connection. + +If you say the same thing to a child who does not yet know the word +"motor," but does know the other words you are using, you produce a +feeling of anxiety and doubt you will have to point and say, "There, +that's a motor." After that the child will roughly understand the word +"motor," though he may include trains and steam-rollers If this is the +first time the child has heard the word "motor," he may for a long time +continue to recall this scene when he hears the word. + +So far we have found four ways of understanding words: + +(1) On suitable occasions you use the word properly. + +(2) When you hear it you act appropriately. + +(3) You associate the word with another word (say in a different +language) which has the appropriate effect on behaviour. + +(4) When the word is being first learnt, you may associate it with an +object, which is what it "means," or a representative of various objects +that it "means." + +In the fourth case, the word acquires, through association, some of the +same causal efficacy as the object. The word "motor" can make you +leap aside, just as the motor can, but it cannot break your bones. The +effects which a word can share with its object are those which proceed +according to laws other than the general laws of physics, i.e. those +which, according to our terminology, involve vital movements as opposed +to merely mechanical movements. The effects of a word that we understand +are always mnemic phenomena in the sense explained in Lecture IV, in +so far as they are identical with, or similar to, the effects which the +object itself might have. + +So far, all the uses of words that we have considered can be accounted +for on the lines of behaviourism. + +But so far we have only considered what may be called the +"demonstrative" use of language, to point out some feature in the +present environment. This is only one of the ways in which language +may be used. There are also its narrative and imaginative uses, as +in history and novels. Let us take as an instance the telling of some +remembered event. + +We spoke a moment ago of a child who hears the word "motor" for +the first time when crossing a street along which a motor-car is +approaching. On a later occasion, we will suppose, the child remembers +the incident and relates it to someone else. In this case, both the +active and passive understanding of words is different from what it is +when words are used demonstratively. The child is not seeing a motor, +but only remembering one; the hearer does not look round in expectation +of seeing a motor coming, but "understands" that a motor came at some +earlier time. The whole of this occurrence is much more difficult to +account for on behaviourist lines. It is clear that, in so far as the +child is genuinely remembering, he has a picture of the past occurrence, +and his words are chosen so as to describe the picture; and in so far +as the hearer is genuinely apprehending what is said, the hearer is +acquiring a picture more or less like that of the child. It is true that +this process may be telescoped through the operation of the word-habit. +The child may not genuinely remember the incident, but only have the +habit of the appropriate words, as in the case of a poem which we know +by heart, though we cannot remember learning it. And the hearer also +may only pay attention to the words, and not call up any corresponding +picture. But it is, nevertheless, the possibility of a memory-image in +the child and an imagination-image in the hearer that makes the essence +of the narrative "meaning" of the words. In so far as this is absent, +the words are mere counters, capable of meaning, but not at the moment +possessing it. + +Yet this might perhaps be regarded as something of an overstatement. The +words alone, without the use of images, may cause appropriate emotions +and appropriate behaviour. The words have been used in an environment +which produced certain emotions; by a telescoped process, the words +alone are now capable of producing similar emotions. On these lines it +might be sought to show that images are unnecessary. I do not believe, +however, that we could account on these lines for the entirely different +response produced by a narrative and by a description of present facts. +Images, as contrasted with sensations, are the response expected during +a narrative; it is understood that present action is not called +for. Thus it seems that we must maintain our distinction words used +demonstratively describe and are intended to lead to sensations, while +the same words used in narrative describe and are only intended to lead +to images. + +We have thus, in addition to our four previous ways in which words can +mean, two new ways, namely the way of memory and the way of imagination. +That is to say: + +(5) Words may be used to describe or recall a memory-image: to describe +it when it already exists, or to recall it when the words exist as a +habit and are known to be descriptive of some past experience. + +(6) Words may be used to describe or create an imagination-image: to +describe it, for example, in the case of a poet or novelist, or to +create it in the ordinary case for giving information-though, in the +latter case, it is intended that the imagination-image, when created, +shall be accompanied by belief that something of the sort occurred. + +These two ways of using words, including their occurrence in inner +speech, may be spoken of together as the use of words in "thinking." +If we are right, the use of words in thinking depends, at least in its +origin, upon images, and cannot be fully dealt with on behaviourist +lines. And this is really the most essential function of words, namely +that, originally through their connection with images, they bring us +into touch with what is remote in time or space. When they operate +without the medium of images, this seems to be a telescoped process. +Thus the problem of the meaning of words is brought into connection with +the problem of the meaning of images. + +To understand the function that words perform in what is called +"thinking," we must understand both the causes and the effects of their +occurrence. The causes of the occurrence of words require somewhat +different treatment according as the object designated by the word is +sensibly present or absent. When the object is present, it may itself +be taken as the cause of the word, through association. But when it is +absent there is more difficulty in obtaining a behaviourist theory of +the occurrence of the word. The language-habit consists not merely +in the use of words demonstratively, but also in their use to express +narrative or desire. Professor Watson, in his account of the acquisition +of the language-habit, pays very little attention to the use of words in +narrative and desire. He says ("Behavior," pp. 329-330): + +"The stimulus (object) to which the child often responds, a box, e.g. by +movements such as opening and closing and putting objects into it, may +serve to illustrate our argument. The nurse, observing that the child +reacts with his hands, feet, etc., to the box, begins to say 'box' when +the child is handed the box, 'open box' when the child opens it, 'close +box' when he closes it, and 'put doll in box' when that act is executed. +This is repeated over and over again. In the process of time it comes +about that without any other stimulus than that of the box which +originally called out the bodily habits, he begins to say 'box' when he +sees it, 'open box' when he opens it, etc. The visible box now becomes +a stimulus capable of releasing either the bodily habits or the +word-habit, i.e. development has brought about two things: (1) a series +of functional connections among arcs which run from visual receptor to +muscles of throat, and (2) a series of already earlier connected arcs +which run from the same receptor to the bodily muscles.... The object +meets the child's vision. He runs to it and tries to reach it and says +'box.'... Finally the word is uttered without the movement of going +towards the box being executed.... Habits are formed of going to the +box when the arms are full of toys. The child has been taught to deposit +them there. When his arms are laden with toys and no box is there, the +word-habit arises and he calls 'box'; it is handed to him, and he opens +it and deposits the toys therein. This roughly marks what we would call +the genesis of a true language-habit."(pp. 329-330).* + + * Just the same account of language is given in Professor + Watson's more recent book (reference above). + +We need not linger over what is said in the above passage as to the use +of the word "box" in the presence of the box. But as to its use in the +absence of the box, there is only one brief sentence, namely: "When his +arms are laden with toys and no box is there, the word-habit arises and +he calls 'box.'" This is inadequate as it stands, since the habit has +been to use the word when the box is present, and we have to explain its +extension to cases in which the box is absent. + +Having admitted images, we may say that the word "box," in the absence +of the box, is caused by an image of the box. This may or may not +be true--in fact, it is true in some cases but not in others. Even, +however, if it were true in all cases, it would only slightly shift our +problem: we should now have to ask what causes an image of the box to +arise. We might be inclined to say that desire for the box is the cause. +But when this view is investigated, it is found that it compels us to +suppose that the box can be desired without the child's having either an +image of the box or the word "box." This will require a theory of desire +which may be, and I think is, in the main true, but which removes desire +from among things that actually occur, and makes it merely a convenient +fiction, like force in mechanics.* With such a view, desire is no longer +a true cause, but merely a short way of describing certain processes. + + * See Lecture III, above. + +In order to explain the occurrence of either the word or the image +in the absence of the box, we have to assume that there is something, +either in the environment or in our own sensations, which has frequently +occurred at about the same time as the word "box." One of the laws which +distinguish psychology (or nerve-physiology?) from physics is the +law that, when two things have frequently existed in close temporal +contiguity, either comes in time to cause the other.* This is the basis +both of habit and of association. Thus, in our case, the arms full of +toys have frequently been followed quickly by the box, and the box in +turn by the word "box." The box itself is subject to physical laws, and +does not tend to be caused by the arms full of toys, however often it +may in the past have followed them--always provided that, in the case in +question, its physical position is such that voluntary movements cannot +lead to it. But the word "box" and the image of the box are subject to +the law of habit; hence it is possible for either to be caused by the +arms full of toys. And we may lay it down generally that, whenever we +use a word, either aloud or in inner speech, there is some sensation +or image (either of which may be itself a word) which has frequently +occurred at about the same time as the word, and now, through habit, +causes the word. It follows that the law of habit is adequate to account +for the use of words in the absence of their objects; moreover, it would +be adequate even without introducing images. Although, therefore, images +seem undeniable, we cannot derive an additional argument in their favour +from the use of words, which could, theoretically, be explained without +introducing images. + + *For a more exact statement of this law, with the + limitations suggested by experiment, see A. Wohlgemuth, "On + Memory and the Direction of Associations," "British Journal + of Psychology," vol. v, part iv (March, 1913). + +When we understand a word, there is a reciprocal association between +it and the images of what it "means." Images may cause us to use words +which mean them, and these words, heard or read, may in turn cause the +appropriate images. Thus speech is a means of producing in our hearers +the images which are in us. Also, by a telescoped process, words come in +time to produce directly the effects which would have been produced +by the images with which they were associated. The general law of +telescoped processes is that, if A causes B and B causes C, it will +happen in time that A will cause C directly, without the intermediary +of B. This is a characteristic of psychological and neural causation. +In virtue of this law, the effects of images upon our actions come to +be produced by words, even when the words do not call up appropriate +images. The more familiar we are with words, the more our "thinking" +goes on in words instead of images. We may, for example, be able to +describe a person's appearance correctly without having at any time had +any image of him, provided, when we saw him, we thought of words which +fitted him; the words alone may remain with us as a habit, and enable +us to speak as if we could recall a visual image of the man. In this and +other ways the understanding of a word often comes to be quite free from +imagery; but in first learning the use of language it would seem that +imagery always plays a very important part. + +Images as well as words may be said to have "meaning"; indeed, the +meaning of images seems more primitive than the meaning of words. What +we call (say) an image of St. Paul's may be said to "mean" St. Paul's. +But it is not at all easy to say exactly what constitutes the meaning of +an image. A memory-image of a particular occurrence, when accompanied +by a memory-belief, may be said to mean the occurrence of which it is an +image. But most actual images do not have this degree of definiteness. +If we call up an image of a dog, we are very likely to have a vague +image, which is not representative of some one special dog, but of dogs +in general. When we call up an image of a friend's face, we are not +likely to reproduce the expression he had on some one particular +occasion, but rather a compromise expression derived from many +occasions. And there is hardly any limit to the vagueness of which +images are capable. In such cases, the meaning of the image, if defined +by relation to the prototype, is vague: there is not one definite +prototype, but a number, none of which is copied exactly.* + + * Cf. Semon, Mnemische Empfindungen, chap. xvi, especially + pp. 301-308. + +There is, however, another way of approaching the meaning of images, +namely through their causal efficacy. What is called an image "of" +some definite object, say St. Paul's, has some of the effects which the +object would have. This applies especially to the effects that depend +upon association. The emotional effects, also, are often similar: +images may stimulate desire almost as strongly as do the objects they +represent. And conversely desire may cause images*: a hungry man will +have images of food, and so on. In all these ways the causal laws +concerning images are connected with the causal laws concerning the +objects which the images "mean." An image may thus come to fulfil the +function of a general idea. The vague image of a dog, which we spoke of +a moment ago, will have effects which are only connected with dogs in +general, not the more special effects which would be produced by some +dogs but not by others. Berkeley and Hume, in their attack on general +ideas, do not allow for the vagueness of images: they assume that every +image has the definiteness that a physical object would have This is not +the case, and a vague image may well have a meaning which is general. + + * This phrase is in need of interpretation, as appears from + the analysis of desire. But the reader can easily supply the + interpretation for himself. + +In order to define the "meaning" of an image, we have to take account +both of its resemblance to one or more prototypes, and of its causal +efficacy. If there were such a thing as a pure imagination-image, +without any prototype whatever, it would be destitute of meaning. But +according to Hume's principle, the simple elements in an image, +at least, are derived from prototypes-except possibly in very rare +exceptional cases. Often, in such instances as our image of a friend's +face or of a nondescript dog, an image is not derived from one +prototype, but from many; when this happens, the image is vague, and +blurs the features in which the various prototypes differ. To arrive +at the meaning of the image in such a case, we observe that there are +certain respects, notably associations, in which the effects of images +resemble those of their prototypes. If we find, in a given case, that +our vague image, say, of a nondescript dog, has those associative +effects which all dogs would have, but not those belonging to any +special dog or kind of dog, we may say that our image means "dog" in +general. If it has all the associations appropriate to spaniels but +no others, we shall say it means "spaniel"; while if it has all the +associations appropriate to one particular dog, it will mean that dog, +however vague it may be as a picture. The meaning of an image, according +to this analysis, is constituted by a combination of likeness and +associations. It is not a sharp or definite conception, and in many +cases it will be impossible to decide with any certainty what an image +means. I think this lies in the nature of things, and not in defective +analysis. + +We may give somewhat more precision to the above account of the meaning +of images, and extend it to meaning in general. We find sometimes that, +IN MNEMIC CAUSATION, an image or word, as stimulus, has the same effect +(or very nearly the same effect) as would belong to some object, say, +a certain dog. In that case we say that the image or word means that +object. In other cases the mnemic effects are not all those of one +object, but only those shared by objects of a certain kind, e.g. by all +dogs. In this case the meaning of the image or word is general: it means +the whole kind. Generality and particularity are a matter of degree. If +two particulars differ sufficiently little, their mnemic effects will be +the same; therefore no image or word can mean the one as opposed to the +other; this sets a bound to the particularity of meaning. On the other +hand, the mnemic effects of a number of sufficiently dissimilar objects +will have nothing discoverable in common; hence a word which aims at +complete generality, such as "entity" for example, will have to be +devoid of mnemic effects, and therefore of meaning. In practice, this is +not the case: such words have VERBAL associations, the learning of which +constitutes the study of metaphysics. + +The meaning of a word, unlike that of an image, is wholly constituted +by mnemic causal laws, and not in any degree by likeness (except in +exceptional cases). The word "dog" bears no resemblance to a dog, but +its effects, like those of an image of a dog, resemble the effects of an +actual dog in certain respects. It is much easier to say definitely +what a word means than what an image means, since words, however they +originated, have been framed in later times for the purpose of having +meaning, and men have been engaged for ages in giving increased +precision to the meanings of words. But although it is easier to +say what a word means than what an image means, the relation which +constitutes meaning is much the same in both cases. A word, like an +image, has the same associations as its meaning has. In addition to +other associations, it is associated with images of its meaning, so that +the word tends to call up the image and the image tends to call up the +word., But this association is not essential to the intelligent use of +words. If a word has the right associations with other objects, we shall +be able to use it correctly, and understand its use by others, even if +it evokes no image. The theoretical understanding of words involves only +the power of associating them correctly with other words; the practical +understanding involves associations with other bodily movements. + +The use of words is, of course, primarily social, for the purpose of +suggesting to others ideas which we entertain or at least wish them to +entertain. But the aspect of words that specially concerns us is their +power of promoting our own thought. Almost all higher intellectual +activity is a matter of words, to the nearly total exclusion of +everything else. The advantages of words for purposes of thought are so +great that I should never end if I were to enumerate them. But a few of +them deserve to be mentioned. + +In the first place, there is no difficulty in producing a word, whereas +an image cannot always be brought into existence at will, and when it +comes it often contains much irrelevant detail. In the second place, +much of our thinking is concerned with abstract matters which do not +readily lend themselves to imagery, and are apt to be falsely conceived +if we insist upon finding images that may be supposed to represent them. +The word is always concrete and sensible, however abstract its +meaning may be, and thus by the help of words we are able to dwell on +abstractions in a way which would otherwise be impossible. In the third +place, two instances of the same word are so similar that neither has +associations not capable of being shared by the other. Two instances of +the word "dog" are much more alike than (say) a pug and a great dane; +hence the word "dog" makes it much easier to think about dogs in +general. When a number of objects have a common property which is +important but not obvious, the invention of a name for the common +property helps us to remember it and to think of the whole set of +objects that possess it. But it is unnecessary to prolong the catalogue +of the uses of language in thought. + +At the same time, it is possible to conduct rudimentary thought by +means of images, and it is important, sometimes, to check purely verbal +thought by reference to what it means. In philosophy especially the +tyranny of traditional words is dangerous, and we have to be on our +guard against assuming that grammar is the key to metaphysics, or that +the structure of a sentence corresponds at all accurately with the +structure of the fact that it asserts. Sayce maintained that all +European philosophy since Aristotle has been dominated by the fact that +the philosophers spoke Indo-European languages, and therefore supposed +the world, like the sentences they were used to, necessarily divisible +into subjects and predicates. When we come to the consideration of truth +and falsehood, we shall see how necessary it is to avoid assuming too +close a parallelism between facts and the sentences which assert them. +Against such errors, the only safeguard is to be able, once in a way, to +discard words for a moment and contemplate facts more directly through +images. Most serious advances in philosophic thought result from some +such comparatively direct contemplation of facts. But the outcome has +to be expressed in words if it is to be communicable. Those who have +a relatively direct vision of facts are often incapable of translating +their vision into words, while those who possess the words have +usually lost the vision. It is partly for this reason that the highest +philosophical capacity is so rare: it requires a combination of vision +with abstract words which is hard to achieve, and too quickly lost in +the few who have for a moment achieved it. + + + + +LECTURE XI. GENERAL IDEAS AND THOUGHT + +It is said to be one of the merits of the human mind that it is capable +of framing abstract ideas, and of conducting nonsensational thought. +In this it is supposed to differ from the mind of animals. From Plato +onward the "idea" has played a great part in the systems of idealizing +philosophers. The "idea" has been, in their hands, always something +noble and abstract, the apprehension and use of which by man confers +upon him a quite special dignity. + +The thing we have to consider to-day is this: seeing that there +certainly are words of which the meaning is abstract, and seeing that we +can use these words intelligently, what must be assumed or inferred, or +what can be discovered by observation, in the way of mental content to +account for the intelligent use of abstract words? + +Taken as a problem in logic, the answer is, of course, that absolutely +nothing in the way of abstract mental content is inferable from the +mere fact that we can use intelligently words of which the meaning +is abstract. It is clear that a sufficiently ingenious person could +manufacture a machine moved by olfactory stimuli which, whenever a dog +appeared in its neighbourhood, would say, "There is a dog," and when +a cat appeared would throw stones at it. The act of saying "There is a +dog," and the act of throwing stones, would in such a case be equally +mechanical. Correct speech does not of itself afford any better evidence +of mental content than the performance of any other set of biologically +useful movements, such as those of flight or combat. All that is +inferable from language is that two instances of a universal, even when +they differ very greatly, may cause the utterance of two instances +of the same word which only differ very slightly. As we saw in the +preceding lecture, the word "dog" is useful, partly, because two +instances of this word are much more similar than (say) a pug and a +great dane. The use of words is thus a method of substituting for two +particulars which differ widely, in spite of being instances of the same +universal, two other particulars which differ very little, and which +are also instances of a universal, namely the name of the previous +universal. Thus, so far as logic is concerned, we are entirely free to +adopt any theory as to general ideas which empirical observation may +recommend. + +Berkeley and Hume made a vigorous onslaught on "abstract ideas." They +meant by an idea approximately what we should call an image. Locke +having maintained that he could form an idea of triangle in general, +without deciding what sort of triangle it was to be, Berkeley contended +that this was impossible. He says: + +"Whether others, have this wonderful faculty of abstracting their ideas, +they best can tell: for myself, I dare be confident I have it not. I +find, indeed, I have indeed a faculty of imagining, or representing to +myself, the ideas of those particular things I have perceived, and of +variously compounding and dividing them. I can imagine a man with two +heads, or the upper parts of a man joined to the body of a horse. I +can consider the hand, the eye, the nose, each by itself abstracted or +separated from the rest of the body. But, then, whatever hand or eye +I imagine, it must have some particular shape and colour. Likewise the +idea of a man that I frame to myself must be either of a white, or a +black, or a tawny, a straight, or a crooked, a tall, or a low, or +a middle-sized man. I cannot by any effort of thought conceive the +abstract idea above described. And it is equally impossible for me to +form the abstract idea of motion distinct from the body moving, and +which is neither swift nor slow, curvilinear nor rectilinear; and the +like may be said of all other abstract general ideas whatsoever. To be +plain, I own myself able to abstract in one sense, as when I consider +some particular parts of qualities separated from others, with which, +though they are united in some object, yet it is possible they may +really exist without them. But I deny that I can abstract from one +another, or conceive separately, those qualities which it is impossible +should exist so separated; or that I can frame a general notion, by +abstracting from particulars in the manner aforesaid--which last are +the two proper acceptations of ABSTRACTION. And there is ground to think +most men will acknowledge themselves to be in my case. The generality of +men which are simple and illiterate never pretend to ABSTRACT NOTIONS. +It is said they are difficult and not to be attained without pains and +study; we may therefore reasonably conclude that, if such there be, they +are confined only to the learned. + +"I proceed to examine what can be alleged in defence of the doctrine of +abstraction, and try if I can discover what it is that inclines the men +of speculation to embrace an opinion so remote from common sense as that +seems to be. There has been a late excellent and deservedly esteemed +philosopher who, no doubt, has given it very much countenance, by +seeming to think the having abstract general ideas is what puts the +widest difference in point of understanding betwixt man and beast. +'The having of general ideas,' saith he, 'is that which puts a perfect +distinction betwixt man and brutes, and is an excellency which the +faculties of brutes do by no means attain unto. For, it is evident +we observe no footsteps in them of making use of general signs for +universal ideas; from which we have reason to imagine that they have not +the faculty of abstracting, or making general ideas, since they have +no use of words or any other general signs.' And a little after: +'Therefore, I think, we may suppose that it is in this that the species +of brutes are discriminated from men, and it is that proper difference +wherein they are wholly separated, and which at last widens to so wide a +distance. For, if they have any ideas at all, and are not bare machines +(as some would have them), we cannot deny them to have some reason. It +seems as evident to me that they do, some of them, in certain instances +reason as that they have sense; but it is only in particular ideas, just +as they receive them from their senses. They are the best of them tied +up within those narrow bounds, and have not (as I think) the faculty +to enlarge them by any kind of abstraction.* ("Essay on Human +Understanding," Bk. II, chap. xi, paragraphs 10 and 11.) I readily agree +with this learned author, that the faculties of brutes can by no means +attain to abstraction. But, then, if this be made the distinguishing +property of that sort of animals, I fear a great many of those that +pass for men must be reckoned into their number. The reason that is here +assigned why we have no grounds to think brutes have abstract general +ideas is, that we observe in them no use of words or any other general +signs; which is built on this supposition-that the making use of words +implies the having general ideas. From which it follows that men who use +language are able to abstract or generalize their ideas. That this is +the sense and arguing of the author will further appear by his answering +the question he in another place puts: 'Since all things that exist are +only particulars, how come we by general terms?' His answer is: 'Words +become general by being made the signs of general ideas.' ("Essay on +Human Understanding," Bk. III, chap. III, paragraph 6.) But it seems +that a word becomes general by being made the sign, not of an abstract +general idea, but of several particular ideas, any one of which it +indifferently suggests to the mind. For example, when it is said 'the +change of motion is proportional to the impressed force,' or that +'whatever has extension is divisible,' these propositions are to be +understood of motion and extension in general; and nevertheless it will +not follow that they suggest to my thoughts an idea of motion without +a body moved, or any determinate direction and velocity, or that I must +conceive an abstract general idea of extension, which is neither line, +surface, nor solid, neither great nor small, black, white, nor red, +nor of any other determinate colour. It is only implied that +whatever particular motion I consider, whether it be swift or slow, +perpendicular, horizontal, or oblique, or in whatever object, the axiom +concerning it holds equally true. As does the other of every particular +extension, it matters not whether line, surface, or solid, whether of +this or that magnitude or figure. + +"By observing how ideas become general, we may the better judge how +words are made so. And here it is to be noted that I do not deny +absolutely there are general ideas, but only that there are any ABSTRACT +general ideas; for, in the passages we have quoted wherein there is +mention of general ideas, it is always supposed that they are formed by +abstraction, after the manner set forth in sections 8 and 9. Now, if +we will annex a meaning to our words, and speak only of what we can +conceive, I believe we shall acknowledge that an idea which, considered +in itself, is particular, becomes general by being made to represent +or stand for all other particular ideas of the same sort. To make this +plain by an example, suppose a geometrician is demonstrating the method +of cutting a line in two equal parts. He draws, for instance, a black +line of an inch in length: this, which in itself is a particular line, +is nevertheless with regard to its signification general, since, as it +is there used, it represents all particular lines whatsoever; so that +what is demonstrated of it is demonstrated of all lines, or, in other +words, of a line in general. And, as THAT PARTICULAR LINE becomes +general by being made a sign, so the NAME 'line,' which taken absolutely +is particular, by being a sign is made general. And as the former owes +its generality not to its being the sign of an abstract or general line, +but of all particular right lines that may possibly exist, so the latter +must be thought to derive its generality from the same cause, namely, +the various particular lines which it indifferently denotes." * + + * Introduction to "A Treatise concerning the Principles of + Human Knowledge," paragraphs 10, 11, and 12. + +Berkeley's view in the above passage, which is essentially the same as +Hume's, does not wholly agree with modern psychology, although it comes +nearer to agreement than does the view of those who believe that there +are in the mind single contents which can be called abstract ideas. The +way in which Berkeley's view is inadequate is chiefly in the fact that +images are as a rule not of one definite prototype, but of a number of +related similar prototypes. On this subject Semon has written well. +In "Die Mneme," pp. 217 ff., discussing the effect of repeated similar +stimuli in producing and modifying our images, he says: "We choose a +case of mnemic excitement whose existence we can perceive for ourselves +by introspection, and seek to ekphore the bodily picture of our nearest +relation in his absence, and have thus a pure mnemic excitement before +us. At first it may seem to us that a determinate quite concrete picture +becomes manifest in us, but just when we are concerned with a person +with whom we are in constant contact, we shall find that the ekphored +picture has something so to speak generalized. It is something like +those American photographs which seek to display what is general about a +type by combining a great number of photographs of different heads over +each other on one plate. In our opinion, the generalizations happen by +the homophonic working of different pictures of the same face which we +have come across in the most different conditions and situations, once +pale, once reddened, once cheerful, once earnest, once in this +light, and once in that. As soon as we do not let the whole series +of repetitions resound in us uniformly, but give our attention to one +particular moment out of the many... this particular mnemic stimulus at +once overbalances its simultaneously roused predecessors and successors, +and we perceive the face in question with concrete definiteness in that +particular situation." A little later he says: "The result is--at least +in man, but probably also in the higher animals--the development of a +sort of PHYSIOLOGICAL abstraction. Mnemic homophony gives us, without +the addition of other processes of thought, a picture of our friend +X which is in a certain sense abstract, not the concrete in any one +situation, but X cut loose from any particular point of time. If the +circle of ekphored engrams is drawn even more widely, abstract pictures +of a higher order appear: for instance, a white man or a negro. In my +opinion, the first form of abstract concepts in general is based upon +such abstract pictures. The physiological abstraction which takes +place in the above described manner is a predecessor of purely logical +abstraction. It is by no means a monopoly of the human race, but shows +itself in various ways also among the more highly organized animals." +The same subject is treated in more detail in Chapter xvi of "Die +mnemischen Empfindungen," but what is said there adds nothing vital to +what is contained in the above quotations. + +It is necessary, however, to distinguish between the vague and the +general. So long as we are content with Semon's composite image, we MAY +get no farther than the vague. The question whether this image takes us +to the general or not depends, I think, upon the question whether, in +addition to the generalized image, we have also particular images +of some of the instances out of which it is compounded. Suppose, for +example, that on a number of occasions you had seen one negro, and +that you did not know whether this one was the same or different on +the different occasions. Suppose that in the end you had an abstract +memory-image of the different appearances presented by the negro on +different occasions, but no memory-image of any one of the single +appearances. In that case your image would be vague. If, on the other +hand, you have, in addition to the generalized image, particular images +of the several appearances, sufficiently clear to be recognized as +different, and as instances of the generalized picture, you will then +not feel the generalized picture to be adequate to any one particular +appearance, and you will be able to make it function as a general +idea rather than a vague idea. If this view is correct, no new general +content needs to be added to the generalized image. What needs to be +added is particular images compared and contrasted with the generalized +image. So far as I can judge by introspection, this does occur in +practice. Take for example Semon's instance of a friend's face. Unless +we make some special effort of recollection, the face is likely to come +before us with an average expression, very blurred and vague, but we can +at will recall how our friend looked on some special occasion when he +was pleased or angry or unhappy, and this enables us to realize the +generalized character of the vague image. + +There is, however, another way of distinguishing between the vague, the +particular and the general, and this is not by their content, but by +the reaction which they produce. A word, for example, may be said to be +vague when it is applicable to a number of different individuals, but to +each as individuals; the name Smith, for example, is vague: it is always +meant to apply to one man, but there are many men to each of whom it +applies.* The word "man," on the other hand, is general. We say, "This +is Smith," but we do not say "This is man," but "This is a man." Thus +we may say that a word embodies a vague idea when its effects are +appropriate to an individual, but are the same for various similar +individuals, while a word embodies a general idea when its effects are +different from those appropriate to individuals. In what this difference +consists it is, however, not easy to say. I am inclined to think that it +consists merely in the knowledge that no one individual is represented, +so that what distinguishes a general idea from a vague idea is merely +the presence of a certain accompanying belief. If this view is correct, +a general idea differs from a vague one in a way analogous to that in +which a memory-image differs from an imagination-image. There also +we found that the difference consists merely of the fact that a +memory-image is accompanied by a belief, in this case as to the past. + + * "Smith" would only be a quite satisfactory representation + of vague words if we failed to discriminate between + different people called Smith. + +It should also be said that our images even of quite particular +occurrences have always a greater or a less degree of vagueness. That is +to say, the occurrence might have varied within certain limits without +causing our image to vary recognizably. To arrive at the general it +is necessary that we should be able to contrast it with a number of +relatively precise images or words for particular occurrences; so long +as all our images and words are vague, we cannot arrive at the contrast +by which the general is defined. This is the justification for the +view which I quoted on p. 184 from Ribot (op. cit., p. 32), viz. that +intelligence progresses from the indefinite to the definite, and that +the vague appears earlier than either the particular or the general. + +I think the view which I have been advocating, to the effect that a +general idea is distinguished from a vague one by the presence of a +judgment, is also that intended by Ribot when he says (op. cit., p. 92): +"The generic image is never, the concept is always, a judgment. We know +that for logicians (formerly at any rate) the concept is the simple +and primitive element; next comes the judgment, uniting two or several +concepts; then ratiocination, combining two or several judgments. For +the psychologists, on the contrary, affirmation is the fundamental +act; the concept is the result of judgment (explicit or implicit), of +similarities with exclusion of differences." + +A great deal of work professing to be experimental has been done in +recent years on the psychology of thought. A good summary of such +work up to the year agog is contained in Titchener's "Lectures on the +Experimental Psychology of the Thought Processes" (1909). Three articles +in the "Archiv fur die gesammte Psychologie" by Watt,* Messer** and +Buhler*** contain a great deal of the material amassed by the methods +which Titchener calls experimental. + + * Henry J. Watt, "Experimentelle Beitrage zu einer Theorie + des Denkens," vol. iv (1905) pp. 289-436. + + ** August Messer, "Experimentell-psychologische Untersuchu + gen uber das Denken," vol. iii (1906), pp. 1-224. + + *** Karl Buhler, "Uber Gedanken," vol. ix (1907), pp. 297-365. + +For my part I am unable to attach as much importance to this work as +many psychologists do. The method employed appears to me hardly to +fulfil the conditions of scientific experiment. Broadly speaking, what +is done is, that a set of questions are asked of various people, their +answers are recorded, and likewise their own accounts, based upon +introspection, of the processes of thought which led them to give +those answers. Much too much reliance seems to me to be placed upon the +correctness of their introspection. On introspection as a method I have +spoken earlier (Lecture VI). I am not prepared, like Professor Watson, +to reject it wholly, but I do consider that it is exceedingly fallible +and quite peculiarly liable to falsification in accordance with +preconceived theory. It is like depending upon the report of a +shortsighted person as to whom he sees coming along the road at a moment +when he is firmly convinced that Jones is sure to come. If everybody +were shortsighted and obsessed with beliefs as to what was going to be +visible, we might have to make the best of such testimony, but we should +need to correct its errors by taking care to collect the simultaneous +evidence of people with the most divergent expectations. There is no +evidence that this was done in the experiments in question, nor indeed +that the influence of theory in falsifying the introspection was at all +adequately recognized. I feel convinced that if Professor Watson had +been one of the subjects of the questionnaires, he would have given +answers totally different from those recorded in the articles in +question. Titchener quotes an opinion of Wundt on these investigations, +which appears to me thoroughly justified. "These experiments," he says, +"are not experiments at all in the sense of a scientific methodology; +they are counterfeit experiments, that seem methodical simply because +they are ordinarily performed in a psychological laboratory, and involve +the co-operation of two persons, who purport to be experimenter and +observer. In reality, they are as unmethodical as possible; they possess +none of the special features by which we distinguish the introspections +of experimental psychology from the casual introspections of everyday +life."* Titchener, of course, dissents from this opinion, but I cannot +see that his reasons for dissent are adequate. My doubts are only +increased by the fact that Buhler at any rate used trained psychologists +as his subjects. A trained psychologist is, of course, supposed to have +acquired the habit of observation, but he is at least equally likely to +have acquired a habit of seeing what his theories require. We may take +Buhler's "Uber Gedanken" to illustrate the kind of results arrived at +by such methods. Buhler says (p. 303): "We ask ourselves the general +question: 'WHAT DO WE EXPERIENCE WHEN WE THINK?' Then we do not at all +attempt a preliminary determination of the concept 'thought,' but choose +for analysis only such processes as everyone would describe as +processes of thought." The most important thing in thinking, he says, is +"awareness that..." (Bewusstheit dass), which he calls a thought. It +is, he says, thoughts in this sense that are essential to thinking. +Thinking, he maintains, does not need language or sensuous +presentations. "I assert rather that in principle every object can be +thought (meant) distinctly, without any help from sensuous presentation +(Anschauungshilfen). Every individual shade of blue colour on the +picture that hangs in my room I can think with complete distinctness +unsensuously (unanschaulich), provided it is possible that the object +should be given to me in another manner than by the help of sensations. +How that is possible we shall see later." What he calls a thought +(Gedanke) cannot be reduced, according to him, to other psychic +occurrences. He maintains that thoughts consist for the most part of +known rules (p. 342). It is clearly essential to the interest of this +theory that the thought or rule alluded to by Buhler should not need to +be expressed in words, for if it is expressed in words it is immediately +capable of being dealt with on the lines with which the behaviourists +have familiarized us. It is clear also that the supposed absence of +words rests solely upon the introspective testimony of the persons +experimented upon. I cannot think that there is sufficient certainty +of their reliability in this negative observation to make us accept a +difficult and revolutionary view of thought, merely because they have +failed to observe the presence of words or their equivalent in their +thinking. I think it far more likely, especially in view of the fact +that the persons concerned were highly educated, that we are concerned +with telescoped processes, in which habit has caused a great many +intermediate terms to be elided or to be passed over so quickly as to +escape observation. + + * Titchener, op. cit., p. 79. + +I am inclined to think that similar remarks apply to the general idea of +"imageless thinking," concerning which there has been much controversy. +The advocates of imageless thinking are not contending merely that there +can be thinking which is purely verbal; they are contending that there +can be thinking which proceeds neither in words nor in images. My own +feeling is that they have rashly assumed the presence of thinking in +cases where habit has rendered thinking unnecessary. When Thorndike +experimented with animals in cages, he found that the associations +established were between a sensory stimulus and a bodily movement (not +the idea of it), without the need of supposing any non-physiological +intermediary (op. cit., p. 100 ff.). The same thing, it seems to me, +applies to ourselves. A certain sensory situation produces in us a +certain bodily movement. Sometimes this movement consists in uttering +words. Prejudice leads us to suppose that between the sensory +stimulus and the utterance of the words a process of thought must have +intervened, but there seems no good reason for such a supposition. Any +habitual action, such as eating or dressing, may be performed on the +appropriate occasion, without any need of thought, and the same seems +to be true of a painfully large proportion of our talk. What applies to +uttered speech applies of course equally to the internal speech which is +not uttered. I remain, therefore, entirely unconvinced that there is +any such phenomenon as thinking which consists neither of images nor of +words, or that "ideas" have to be added to sensations and images as part +of the material out of which mental phenomena are built. + +The question of the nature of our consciousness of the universal is +much affected by our view as to the general nature of the relation of +consciousness to its object. If we adopt the view of Brentano, according +to which all mental content has essential reference to an object, it +is then natural to suppose that there is some peculiar kind of mental +content of which the object is a universal, as oppose to a particular. +According to this view, a particular cat can be PERceived or imagined, +while the universal "cat" is CONceived. But this whole manner of viewing +our dealings with universals has to be abandoned when the relation of +a mental occurrence to its "object" is regarded as merely indirect and +causal, which is the view that we have adopted. The mental content is, +of course, always particular, and the question as to what it "means" +(in case it means anything) is one which cannot be settled by merely +examining the intrinsic character of the mental content, but only by +knowing its causal connections in the case of the person concerned. To +say that a certain thought "means" a universal as opposed to either a +vague or a particular, is to say something exceedingly complex. A horse +will behave in a certain manner whenever he smells a bear, even if +the smell is derived from a bearskin. That is to say, any environment +containing an instance of the universal "smell of a bear" produces +closely similar behaviour in the horse, but we do not say that the horse +is conscious of this universal. There is equally little reason to +regard a man as conscious of the same universal, because under the same +circumstances he can react by saying, "I smell a bear." This reaction, +like that of the horse, is merely closely similar on different occasions +where the environment affords instances of the same universal. Words +of which the logical meaning is universal can therefore be employed +correctly, without anything that could be called consciousness of +universals. Such consciousness in the only sense in which it can be +said to exist is a matter of reflective judgment consisting in the +observation of similarities and differences. A universal never appears +before the mind as a single object in the sort of way in which something +perceived appears. I THINK a logical argument could be produced to show +that universals are part of the structure of the world, but they are +an inferred part, not a part of our data. What exists in us consists of +various factors, some open to external observation, others only visible +to introspection. The factors open to external observation are primarily +habits, having the peculiarity that very similar reactions are produced +by stimuli which are in many respects very different from each other. Of +this the reaction of the horse to the smell of the bear is an instance, +and so is the reaction of the man who says "bear" under the same +circumstances. The verbal reaction is, of course, the most important +from the point of view of what may be called knowledge of universals. A +man who can always use the word "dog" when he sees a dog may be said, +in a certain sense, to know the meaning of the word "dog," and IN THAT +SENSE to have knowledge of the universal "dog." But there is, of course, +a further stage reached by the logician in which he not merely reacts +with the word "dog," but sets to work to discover what it is in the +environment that causes in him this almost identical reaction on +different occasions. This further stage consists in knowledge of +similarities and differences: similarities which are necessary to the +applicability of the word "dog," and differences which are compatible +with it. Our knowledge of these similarities and differences is never +exhaustive, and therefore our knowledge of the meaning of a universal is +never complete. + +In addition to external observable habits (including the habit of +words), there is also the generic image produced by the superposition, +or, in Semon's phrase, homophony, of a number of similar perceptions. +This image is vague so long as the multiplicity of its prototypes is not +recognized, but becomes universal when it exists alongside of the more +specific images of its instances, and is knowingly contrasted with them. +In this case we find again, as we found when we were discussing words +in general in the preceding lecture, that images are not logically +necessary in order to account for observable behaviour, i.e. in this +case intelligent speech. Intelligent speech could exist as a motor +habit, without any accompaniment of images, and this conclusion applies +to words of which the meaning is universal, just as much as to words of +which the meaning is relatively particular. If this conclusion is valid, +it follows that behaviourist psychology, which eschews introspective +data, is capable of being an independent science, and of accounting +for all that part of the behaviour of other people which is commonly +regarded as evidence that they think. It must be admitted that this +conclusion considerably weakens the reliance which can be placed upon +introspective data. They must be accepted simply on account of the +fact that we seem to perceive them, not on account of their supposed +necessity for explaining the data of external observation. + +This, at any rate, is the conclusion to which we are forced, so long +as, with the behaviourists, we accept common-sense views of the physical +world. But if, as I have urged, the physical world itself, as known, +is infected through and through with subjectivity, if, as the theory +of relativity suggests, the physical universe contains the diversity of +points of view which we have been accustomed to regard as distinctively +psychological, then we are brought back by this different road to the +necessity for trusting observations which are in an important sense +private. And it is the privacy of introspective data which causes much +of the behaviourists' objection to them. + +This is an example of the difficulty of constructing an adequate +philosophy of any one science without taking account of other sciences. +The behaviourist philosophy of psychology, though in many respects +admirable from the point of view of method, appears to me to fail in +the last analysis because it is based upon an inadequate philosophy of +physics. In spite, therefore, of the fact that the evidence for images, +whether generic or particular, is merely introspective, I cannot +admit that images should be rejected, or that we should minimize their +function in our knowledge of what is remote in time or space. + + + + +LECTURE XII. BELIEF + +Belief, which is our subject to-day, is the central problem in the +analysis of mind. Believing seems the most "mental" thing we do, +the thing most remote from what is done by mere matter. The whole +intellectual life consists of beliefs, and of the passage from one +belief to another by what is called "reasoning." Beliefs give knowledge +and error; they are the vehicles of truth and falsehood. Psychology, +theory of knowledge and metaphysics revolve about belief, and on the +view we take of belief our philosophical outlook largely depends. + +Before embarking upon the detailed analysis of belief, we shall do well +to note certain requisites which any theory must fulfil. + +(1) Just as words are characterized by meaning, so beliefs are +characterized by truth or falsehood. And just as meaning consists in +relation to the object meant, so truth and falsehood consist in +relation to something that lies outside the belief. You may believe that +such-and-such a horse will win the Derby. The time comes, and your horse +wins or does not win; according to the outcome, your belief was true or +false. You may believe that six times nine is fifty-six; in this case +also there is a fact which makes your belief false. You may believe that +America was discovered in 1492, or that it was discovered in 1066. In +the one case your belief is true, in the other false; in either case +its truth or falsehood depends upon the actions of Columbus, not upon +anything present or under your control. What makes a belief true or +false I call a "fact." The particular fact that makes a given belief +true or false I call its "objective,"* and the relation of the belief to +its objective I call the "reference" or the "objective reference" of the +belief. Thus, if I believe that Columbus crossed the Atlantic in 1492, +the "objective" of my belief is Columbus's actual voyage, and the +"reference" of my belief is the relation between my belief and the +voyage--that relation, namely, in virtue of which the voyage makes my +belief true (or, in another case, false). "Reference" of beliefs differs +from "meaning" of words in various ways, but especially in the fact that +it is of two kinds, "true" reference and "false" reference. The truth +or falsehood of a belief does not depend upon anything intrinsic to +the belief, but upon the nature of its relation to its objective. The +intrinsic nature of belief can be treated without reference to what +makes it true or false. In the remainder of the present lecture I shall +ignore truth and falsehood, which will be the subject of Lecture XIII. +It is the intrinsic nature of belief that will concern us to-day. + + * This terminology is suggested by Meinong, but is not + exactly the same as his. + +(2) We must distinguish between believing and what is believed. I may +believe that Columbus crossed the Atlantic, that all Cretans are liars, +that two and two are four, or that nine times six is fifty-six; in +all these cases the believing is just the same, and only the contents +believed are different. I may remember my breakfast this morning, my +lecture last week, or my first sight of New York. In all these cases the +feeling of memory-belief is just the same, and only what is remembered +differs. Exactly similar remarks apply to expectations. Bare assent, +memory and expectation are forms of belief; all three are different from +what is believed, and each has a constant character which is independent +of what is believed. + +In Lecture I we criticized the analysis of a presentation into act, +content and object. But our analysis of belief contains three very +similar elements, namely the believing, what is believed and the +objective. The objections to the act (in the case of presentations) +are not valid against the believing in the case of beliefs, because the +believing is an actual experienced feeling, not something postulated, +like the act. But it is necessary first to complete our preliminary +requisites, and then to examine the content of a belief. After that, we +shall be in a position to return to the question as to what constitutes +believing. + +(3) What is believed, and the believing, must both consist of present +occurrences in the believer, no matter what may be the objective of +the belief. Suppose I believe, for example, "that Caesar crossed the +Rubicon." The objective of my belief is an event which happened long +ago, which I never saw and do not remember. This event itself is not in +my mind when I believe that it happened. It is not correct to say that +I am believing the actual event; what I am believing is something now +in my mind, something related to the event (in a way which we shall +investigate in Lecture XIII), but obviously not to be confounded with +the event, since the event is not occurring now but the believing is. +What a man is believing at a given moment is wholly determinate if we +know the contents of his mind at that moment; but Caesar's crossing of +the Rubicon was an historical physical event, which is distinct from the +present contents of every present mind. What is believed, however true +it may be, is not the actual fact that makes the belief true, but a +present event related to the fact. This present event, which is what is +believed, I shall call the "content" of the belief. We have already had +occasion to notice the distinction between content and objective in the +case of memory-beliefs, where the content is "this occurred" and the +objective is the past event. + +(4) Between content and objective there is sometimes a very wide gulf, +for example in the case of "Caesar crossed the Rubicon." This gulf may, +when it is first perceived, give us a feeling that we cannot really +"know" anything about the outer world. All we can "know," it may be +said, is what is now in our thoughts. If Caesar and the Rubicon cannot +be bodily in our thoughts, it might seem as though we must remain cut +off from knowledge of them. I shall not now deal at length with this +feeling, since it is necessary first to define "knowing," which cannot +be done yet. But I will say, as a preliminary answer, that the feeling +assumes an ideal of knowing which I believe to be quite mistaken. It +assumes, if it is thought out, something like the mystic unity of knower +and known. These two are often said to be combined into a unity by the +fact of cognition; hence when this unity is plainly absent, it may +seem as if there were no genuine cognition. For my part, I think such +theories and feelings wholly mistaken: I believe knowing to be a very +external and complicated relation, incapable of exact definition, +dependent upon causal laws, and involving no more unity than there is +between a signpost and the town to which it points. I shall return to +this question on a later occasion; for the moment these provisional +remarks must suffice. + +(5) The objective reference of a belief is connected with the fact that +all or some of the constituents of its content have meaning. If I say +"Caesar conquered Gaul," a person who knows the meaning of the three +words composing my statement knows as much as can be known about the +nature of the objective which would make my statement true. It is clear +that the objective reference of a belief is, in general, in some way +derivative from the meanings of the words or images that occur in its +content. There are, however, certain complications which must be borne +in mind. In the first place, it might be contended that a memory-image +acquires meaning only through the memory-belief, which would seem, at +least in the case of memory, to make belief more primitive than the +meaning of images. In the second place, it is a very singular thing that +meaning, which is single, should generate objective reference, which is +dual, namely true and false. This is one of the facts which any theory +of belief must explain if it is to be satisfactory. + +It is now time to leave these preliminary requisites, and attempt the +analysis of the contents of beliefs. + +The first thing to notice about what is believed, i.e. about the content +of a belief, is that it is always complex: We believe that a certain +thing has a certain property, or a certain relation to something else, +or that it occurred or will occur (in the sense discussed at the end of +Lecture IX); or we may believe that all the members of a certain class +have a certain property, or that a certain property sometimes occurs +among the members of a class; or we may believe that if one thing +happens, another will happen (for example, "if it rains I shall bring my +umbrella"), or we may believe that something does not happen, or did not +or will not happen (for example, "it won't rain"); or that one of two +things must happen (for example, "either you withdraw your accusation, +or I shall bring a libel action"). The catalogue of the sorts of things +we may believe is infinite, but all of them are complex. + +Language sometimes conceals the complexity of a belief. We say that a +person believes in God, and it might seem as if God formed the whole +content of the belief. But what is really believed is that God exists, +which is very far from being simple. Similarly, when a person has a +memory-image with a memory-belief, the belief is "this occurred," in +the sense explained in Lecture IX; and "this occurred" is not simple. +In like manner all cases where the content of a belief seems simple at +first sight will be found, on examination, to confirm the view that the +content is always complex. + +The content of a belief involves not merely a plurality of constituents, +but definite relations between them; it is not determinate when its +constituents alone are given. For example, "Plato preceded Aristotle" +and "Aristotle preceded Plato" are both contents which may be believed, +but, although they consist of exactly the same constituents, they are +different, and even incompatible. + +The content of a belief may consist of words only, or of images only, or +of a mixture of the two, or of either or both together with one or more +sensations. It must contain at least one constituent which is a word +or an image, and it may or may not contain one or more sensations as +constituents. Some examples will make these various possibilities clear. + +We may take first recognition, in either of the forms "this is of +such-and-such a kind" or "this has occurred before." In either case, +present sensation is a constituent. For example, you hear a noise, and +you say to yourself "tram." Here the noise and the word "tram" are both +constituents of your belief; there is also a relation between them, +expressed by "is" in the proposition "that is a tram." As soon as your +act of recognition is completed by the occurrence of the word "tram," +your actions are affected: you hurry if you want the tram, or cease to +hurry if you want a bus. In this case the content of your belief is a +sensation (the noise) and a word ("tram") related in a way which may be +called predication. + +The same noise may bring into your mind the visual image of a tram, +instead of the word "tram." In this case your belief consists of a +sensation and an image suitable related. Beliefs of this class are what +are called "judgments of perception." As we saw in Lecture VIII, the +images associated with a sensation often come with such spontaneity +and force that the unsophisticated do not distinguish them from the +sensation; it is only the psychologist or the skilled observer who is +aware of the large mnemic element that is added to sensation to make +perception. It may be objected that what is added consists merely of +images without belief. This is no doubt sometimes the case, but +is certainly sometimes not the case. That belief always occurs in +perception as opposed to sensation it is not necessary for us to +maintain; it is enough for our purposes to note that it sometimes +occurs, and that when it does, the content of our belief consists of a +sensation and an image suitably related. + +In a PURE memory-belief only images occur. But a mixture of words +and images is very common in memory. You have an image of the past +occurrence, and you say to yourself: "Yes, that's how it was." Here the +image and the words together make up the content of the belief. And +when the remembering of an incident has become a habit, it may be purely +verbal, and the memory-belief may consist of words alone. + +The more complicated forms of belief tend to consist only of words. +Often images of various kinds accompany them, but they are apt to +be irrelevant, and to form no part of what is actually believed. For +example, in thinking of the Solar System, you are likely to have vague +images of pictures you have seen of the earth surrounded by clouds, +Saturn and his rings, the sun during an eclipse, and so on; but none of +these form part of your belief that the planets revolve round the sun +in elliptical orbits. The only images that form an actual part of such +beliefs are, as a rule, images of words. And images of words, for the +reasons considered in Lecture VIII, cannot be distinguished with any +certainty from sensations, when, as is often, if not usually, the case, +they are kinaesthetic images of pronouncing the words. + +It is impossible for a belief to consist of sensations alone, except +when, as in the case of words, the sensations have associations which +make them signs possessed of meaning. The reason is that objective +reference is of the essence of belief, and objective reference is +derived from meaning. When I speak of a belief consisting partly of +sensations and partly of words, I do not mean to deny that the words, +when they are not mere images, are sensational, but that they occur as +signs, not (so to speak) in their own right. To revert to the noise of +the tram, when you hear it and say "tram," the noise and the word are +both sensations (if you actually pronounce the word), but the noise is +part of the fact which makes your belief true, whereas the word is not +part of this fact. It is the MEANING of the word "tram," not the actual +word, that forms part of the fact which is the objective of your +belief. Thus the word occurs in the belief as a symbol, in virtue of +its meaning, whereas the noise enters into both the belief and its +objective. It is this that distinguishes the occurrence of words as +symbols from the occurrence of sensations in their own right: the +objective contains the sensations that occur in their own right, but +contains only the meanings of the words that occur as symbols. + +For the sake of simplicity, we may ignore the cases in which sensations +in their own right form part of the content of a belief, and confine +ourselves to images and words. We may also omit the cases in which +both images and words occur in the content of a belief. Thus we become +confined to two cases: (a) when the content consists wholly of images, +(b) when it consists wholly of words. The case of mixed images and words +has no special importance, and its omission will do no harm. + +Let us take in illustration a case of memory. Suppose you are thinking +of some familiar room. You may call up an image of it, and in your image +the window may be to the left of the door. Without any intrusion of +words, you may believe in the correctness of your image. You then have a +belief, consisting wholly of images, which becomes, when put into words, +"the window is to the left of the door." You may yourself use these +words and proceed to believe them. You thus pass from an image-content +to the corresponding word-content. The content is different in the two +cases, but its objective reference is the same. This shows the relation +of image-beliefs to word-beliefs in a very simple case. In more +elaborate cases the relation becomes much less simple. + +It may be said that even in this very simple case the objective +reference of the word-content is not quite the same as that of the +image-content, that images have a wealth of concrete features which are +lost when words are substituted, that the window in the image is not a +mere window in the abstract, but a window of a certain shape and size, +not merely to the left of the door, but a certain distance to the left, +and so on. In reply, it may be admitted at once that there is, as a +rule, a certain amount of truth in the objection. But two points may be +urged to minimize its force. First, images do not, as a rule, have that +wealth of concrete detail that would make it IMPOSSIBLE to express +them fully in words. They are vague and fragmentary: a finite number +of words, though perhaps a large number, would exhaust at least their +SIGNIFICANT features. For--and this is our second point--images enter +into the content of a belief through the fact that they are capable of +meaning, and their meaning does not, as a rule, have as much complexity +as they have: some of their characteristics are usually devoid of +meaning. Thus it may well be possible to extract in words all that +has meaning in an image-content; in that case the word-content and the +image-content will have exactly the same objective reference. + +The content of a belief, when expressed in words, is the same thing (or +very nearly the same thing) as what in logic is called a "proposition." +A proposition is a series of words (or sometimes a single word) +expressing the kind of thing that can be asserted or denied. "That all +men are mortal," "that Columbus discovered America," "that Charles I +died in his bed," "that all philosophers are wise," are propositions. +Not any series of words is a proposition, but only such series of words +as have "meaning," or, in our phraseology, "objective reference." Given +the meanings of separate words, and the rules of syntax, the meaning of +a proposition is determinate. This is the reason why we can understand +a sentence we never heard before. You probably never heard before the +proposition "that the inhabitants of the Andaman Islands habitually +eat stewed hippopotamus for dinner," but there is no difficulty in +understanding the proposition. The question of the relation between +the meaning of a sentence and the meanings of the separate words is +difficult, and I shall not pursue it now; I brought it up solely as +being illustrative of the nature of propositions. + +We may extend the term "proposition" so as to cover the image-contents +of beliefs consisting of images. Thus, in the case of remembering a +room in which the window is to the left of the door, when we believe the +image-content the proposition will consist of the image of the window +on the left together with the image of the door on the right. We will +distinguish propositions of this kind as "image-propositions" +and propositions in words as "word-propositions." We may identify +propositions in general with the contents of actual and possible +beliefs, and we may say that it is propositions that are true or false. +In logic we are concerned with propositions rather than beliefs, since +logic is not interested in what people do in fact believe, but only +in the conditions which determine the truth or falsehood of possible +beliefs. Whenever possible, except when actual beliefs are in question, +it is generally a simplification to deal with propositions. + +It would seem that image-propositions are more primitive than +word-propositions, and may well ante-date language. There is no reason +why memory-images, accompanied by that very simple belief-feeling which +we decided to be the essence of memory, should not have occurred before +language arose; indeed, it would be rash to assert positively that +memory of this sort does not occur among the higher animals. Our more +elementary beliefs, notably those that are added to sensation to make +perception, often remain at the level of images. For example, most of +the visual objects in our neighbourhood rouse tactile images: we have a +different feeling in looking at a sofa from what we have in looking at +a block of marble, and the difference consists chiefly in different +stimulation of our tactile imagination. It may be said that the tactile +images are merely present, without any accompanying belief; but I think +this view, though sometimes correct, derives its plausibility as a +general proposition from our thinking of explicit conscious belief only. +Most of our beliefs, like most of our wishes, are "unconscious," in the +sense that we have never told ourselves that we have them. Such beliefs +display themselves when the expectations that they arouse fail in any +way. For example, if someone puts tea (without milk) into a glass, and +you drink it under the impression that it is going to be beer; or if you +walk on what appears to be a tiled floor, and it turns out to be a soft +carpet made to look like tiles. The shock of surprise on an occasion of +this kind makes us aware of the expectations that habitually enter into +our perceptions; and such expectations must be classed as beliefs, in +spite of the fact that we do not normally take note of them or put them +into words. I remember once watching a cock pigeon running over and over +again to the edge of a looking-glass to try to wreak vengeance on the +particularly obnoxious bird whom he expected to find there, judging by +what he saw in the glass. He must have experienced each time the sort of +surprise on finding nothing, which is calculated to lead in time to +the adoption of Berkeley's theory that objects of sense are only in the +mind. His expectation, though not expressed in words, deserved, I think, +to be called a belief. + +I come now to the question what constitutes believing, as opposed to the +content believed. + +To begin with, there are various different attitudes that may be taken +towards the same content. Let us suppose, for the sake of argument, that +you have a visual image of your breakfast-table. You may expect it while +you are dressing in the morning; remember it as you go to your work; +feel doubt as to its correctness when questioned as to your powers of +visualizing; merely entertain the image, without connecting it with +anything external, when you are going to sleep; desire it if you are +hungry, or feel aversion for it if you are ill. Suppose, for the sake of +definiteness, that the content is "an egg for breakfast." Then you have +the following attitudes "I expect there will be an egg for breakfast"; +"I remember there was an egg for breakfast"; "Was there an egg for +breakfast?" "An egg for breakfast: well, what of it?" "I hope there +will be an egg for breakfast"; "I am afraid there will be an egg for +breakfast and it is sure to be bad." I do not suggest that this is a +list of all possible attitudes on the subject; I say only that they +are different attitudes, all concerned with the one content "an egg for +breakfast." + +These attitudes are not all equally ultimate. Those that involve desire +and aversion have occupied us in Lecture III. For the present, we are +only concerned with such as are cognitive. In speaking of memory, we +distinguished three kinds of belief directed towards the same +content, namely memory, expectation and bare assent without any +time-determination in the belief-feeling. But before developing this +view, we must examine two other theories which might be held concerning +belief, and which, in some ways, would be more in harmony with a +behaviourist outlook than the theory I wish to advocate. + +(1) The first theory to be examined is the view that the differentia of +belief consists in its causal efficacy I do not wish to make any author +responsible for this theory: I wish merely to develop it hypothetically +so that we may judge of its tenability. + +We defined the meaning of an image or word by causal efficacy, namely by +associations: an image or word acquires meaning, we said, through having +the same associations as what it means. + +We propose hypothetically to define "belief" by a different kind +of causal efficacy, namely efficacy in causing voluntary movements. +(Voluntary movements are defined as those vital movements which are +distinguished from reflex movements as involving the higher nervous +centres. I do not like to distinguish them by means of such notions as +"consciousness" or "will," because I do not think these notions, in any +definable sense, are always applicable. Moreover, the purpose of the +theory we are examining is to be, as far as possible, physiological and +behaviourist, and this purpose is not achieved if we introduce such a +conception as "consciousness" or "will." Nevertheless, it is necessary +for our purpose to find some way of distinguishing between voluntary and +reflex movements, since the results would be too paradoxical, if we were +to say that reflex movements also involve beliefs.) According to this +definition, a content is said to be "believed" when it causes us to +move. The images aroused are the same if you say to me, "Suppose there +were an escaped tiger coming along the street," and if you say to me, +"There is an escaped tiger coming along the street." But my actions will +be very different in the two cases: in the first, I shall remain calm; +in the second, it is possible that I may not. It is suggested, by the +theory we are considering, that this difference of effects constitutes +what is meant by saying that in the second case I believe the +proposition suggested, while in the first case I do not. According +to this view, images or words are "believed" when they cause bodily +movements. + +I do not think this theory is adequate, but I think it is suggestive +of truth, and not so easily refutable as it might appear to be at first +sight. + +It might be objected to the theory that many things which we certainly +believe do not call for any bodily movements. I believe that Great +Britain is an island, that whales are mammals, that Charles I was +executed, and so on; and at first sight it seems obvious that such +beliefs, as a rule, do not call for any action on my part. But when we +investigate the matter more closely, it becomes more doubtful. To begin +with, we must distinguish belief as a mere DISPOSITION from actual +active belief. We speak as if we always believed that Charles I was +executed, but that only means that we are always ready to believe it +when the subject comes up. The phenomenon we are concerned to analyse +is the active belief, not the permanent disposition. Now, what are +the occasions when, we actively believe that Charles I was executed? +Primarily: examinations, when we perform the bodily movement of writing +it down; conversation, when we assert it to display our historical +erudition; and political discourses, when we are engaged in showing what +Soviet government leads to. In all these cases bodily movements (writing +or speaking) result from our belief. + +But there remains the belief which merely occurs in "thinking." One may +set to work to recall some piece of history one has been reading, and +what one recalls is believed, although it probably does not cause any +bodily movement whatever. It is true that what we believe always MAY +influence action. Suppose I am invited to become King of Georgia: I find +the prospect attractive, and go to Cook's to buy a third-class ticket to +my new realm. At the last moment I remember Charles I and all the other +monarchs who have come to a bad end; I change my mind, and walk out +without completing the transaction. But such incidents are rare, and +cannot constitute the whole of my belief that Charles I was executed. +The conclusion seems to be that, although a belief always MAY influence +action if it becomes relevant to a practical issue, it often exists +actively (not as a mere disposition) without producing any voluntary +movement whatever. If this is true, we cannot define belief by the +effect on voluntary movements. + +There is another, more theoretical, ground for rejecting the view we +are examining. It is clear that a proposition can be either believed or +merely considered, and that the content is the same in both cases. We +can expect an egg for breakfast, or merely entertain the supposition +that there may be an egg for breakfast. A moment ago I considered the +possibility of being invited to become King of Georgia, but I do not +believe that this will happen. Now, it seems clear that, since believing +and considering have different effects if one produces bodily movements +while the other does not, there must be some intrinsic difference +between believing and considering*; for if they were precisely similar, +their effects also would be precisely similar. We have seen that the +difference between believing a given proposition and merely considering +it does not lie in the content; therefore there must be, in one case +or in both, something additional to the content which distinguishes the +occurrence of a belief from the occurrence of a mere consideration +of the same content. So far as the theoretical argument goes, this +additional element may exist only in belief, or only in consideration, +or there may be one sort of additional element in the case of belief, +and another in the case of consideration. This brings us to the second +view which we have to examine. + + * Cf. Brentano, "Psychologie vom empirischen Standpunkte," + p. 268 (criticizing Bain, "The Emotions and the Will"). + +(1) The theory which we have now to consider regards belief as belonging +to every idea which is entertained, except in so far as some positive +counteracting force interferes. In this view belief is not a positive +phenomenon, though doubt and disbelief are so. What we call belief, +according to this hypothesis, involves only the appropriate content, +which will have the effects characteristic of belief unless something +else operating simultaneously inhibits them. James (Psychology, vol. +ii, p. 288) quotes with approval, though inaccurately, a passage from +Spinoza embodying this view: + +"Let us conceive a boy imagining to himself a horse, and taking note of +nothing else. As this imagination involves the existence of the horse, +AND THE BOY HAS NO PERCEPTION WHICH ANNULS ITS EXISTENCE [James's +italics], he will necessarily contemplate the horse as present, nor will +he be able to doubt of its existence, however little certain of it he +may be. I deny that a man in so far as he imagines [percipit] affirms +nothing. For what is it to imagine a winged horse but to affirm that the +horse [that horse, namely] has wings? For if the mind had nothing before +it but the winged horse, it would contemplate the same as present, would +have no cause to doubt of its existence, nor any power of dissenting +from its existence, unless the imagination of the winged horse were +joined to an idea which contradicted [tollit] its existence" ("Ethics," +vol. ii, p. 49, Scholium). + +To this doctrine James entirely assents, adding in italics: + +"ANY OBJECT WHICH REMAINS UNCONTRADICTED IS IPSO FACTO BELIEVED AND +POSITED AS ABSOLUTE REALITY." + +If this view is correct, it follows (though James does not draw +the inference) that there is no need of any specific feeling called +"belief," and that the mere existence of images yields all that is +required. The state of mind in which we merely consider a proposition, +without believing or disbelieving it, will then appear as a +sophisticated product, the result of some rival force adding to the +image-proposition a positive feeling which may be called suspense or +non-belief--a feeling which may be compared to that of a man about to +run a race waiting for the signal. Such a man, though not moving, is in +a very different condition from that of a man quietly at rest And so the +man who is considering a proposition without believing it will be in +a state of tension, restraining the natural tendency to act upon the +proposition which he would display if nothing interfered. In this view +belief primarily consists merely in the existence of the appropriate +images without any counteracting forces. + +There is a great deal to be said in favour of this view, and I have some +hesitation in regarding it as inadequate. It fits admirably with the +phenomena of dreams and hallucinatory images, and it is recommended by +the way in which it accords with mental development. Doubt, suspense +of judgment and disbelief all seem later and more complex than a wholly +unreflecting assent. Belief as a positive phenomenon, if it exists, +may be regarded, in this view, as a product of doubt, a decision after +debate, an acceptance, not merely of THIS, but of THIS-RATHER-THAN-THAT. +It is not difficult to suppose that a dog has images (possible +olfactory) of his absent master, or of the rabbit that he dreams of +hunting. But it is very difficult to suppose that he can entertain mere +imagination-images to which no assent is given. + +I think it must be conceded that a mere image, without the addition of +any positive feeling that could be called "belief," is apt to have a +certain dynamic power, and in this sense an uncombated image has the +force of a belief. But although this may be true, it accounts only for +some of the simplest phenomena in the region of belief. It will not, for +example, explain memory. Nor can it explain beliefs which do not issue +in any proximate action, such as those of mathematics. I conclude, +therefore, that there must be belief-feelings of the same order as those +of doubt or disbelief, although phenomena closely analogous to those of +belief can be produced by mere uncontradicted images. + +(3) I come now to the view of belief which I wish to advocate. It seems +to me that there are at least three kinds of belief, namely memory, +expectation and bare assent. Each of these I regard as constituted by +a certain feeling or complex of sensations, attached to the content +believed. We may illustrate by an example. Suppose I am believing, +by means of images, not words, that it will rain. We have here two +interrelated elements, namely the content and the expectation. The +content consists of images of (say) the visual appearance of rain, the +feeling of wetness, the patter of drops, interrelated, roughly, as the +sensations would be if it were raining. Thus the content is a complex +fact composed of images. Exactly the same content may enter into the +memory "it was raining" or the assent "rain occurs." The difference of +these cases from each other and from expectation does not lie in the +content. The difference lies in the nature of the belief-feeling. +I, personally, do not profess to be able to analyse the sensations +constituting respectively memory, expectation and assent; but I am +not prepared to say that they cannot be analysed. There may be other +belief-feelings, for example in disjunction and implication; also a +disbelief-feeling. + +It is not enough that the content and the belief-feeling should coexist: +it is necessary that there should be a specific relation between them, +of the sort expressed by saying that the content is what is believed. +If this were not obvious, it could be made plain by an argument. If +the mere co-existence of the content and the belief-feeling sufficed, +whenever we were having (say) a memory-feeling we should be remembering +any proposition which came into our minds at the same time. But this is +not the case, since we may simultaneously remember one proposition and +merely consider another. + +We may sum up our analysis, in the case of bare assent to a proposition +not expressed in words, as follows: (a) We have a proposition, +consisting of interrelated images, and possibly partly of sensations; +(b) we have the feeling of assent, which is presumably a complex +sensation demanding analysis; (c) we have a relation, actually +subsisting, between the assent and the proposition, such as is expressed +by saying that the proposition in question is what is assented to. For +other forms of belief-feeling or of content, we have only to make the +necessary substitutions in this analysis. + +If we are right in our analysis of belief, the use of words in +expressing beliefs is apt to be misleading. There is no way of +distinguishing, in words, between a memory and an assent to a +proposition about the past: "I ate my breakfast" and "Caesar conquered +Gaul" have the same verbal form, though (assuming that I remember my +breakfast) they express occurrences which are psychologically very +different. In the one case, what happens is that I remember the content +"eating my breakfast"; in the other case, I assent to the content +"Caesar's conquest of Gaul occurred." In the latter case, but not in the +former, the pastness is part of the content believed. Exactly similar +remarks apply to the difference between expectation, such as we have +when waiting for the thunder after a flash of lightning, and assent to a +proposition about the future, such as we have in all the usual cases of +inferential knowledge as to what will occur. I think this difficulty in +the verbal expression of the temporal aspects of beliefs is one among +the causes which have hampered philosophy in the consideration of time. + +The view of belief which I have been advocating contains little that is +novel except the distinction of kinds of belief-feeling--such as memory +and expectation. Thus James says: "Everyone knows the difference between +imagining a thing and believing in its existence, between supposing a +proposition and acquiescing in its truth...IN ITS INNER NATURE, BELIEF, +OR THE SENSE OF REALITY, IS A SORT OF FEELING MORE ALLIED TO THE +EMOTIONS THAN TO ANYTHING ELSE" ("Psychology," vol. ii, p. 283. James's +italics). He proceeds to point out that drunkenness, and, still more, +nitrous-oxide intoxication, will heighten the sense of belief: in the +latter case, he says, a man's very soul may sweat with conviction, and +he be all the time utterly unable to say what he is convinced of. It +would seem that, in such cases, the feeling of belief exists unattached, +without its usual relation to a content believed, just as the feeling +of familiarity may sometimes occur without being related to any definite +familiar object. The feeling of belief, when it occurs in this separated +heightened form, generally leads us to look for a content to which to +attach it. Much of what passes for revelation or mystic insight probably +comes in this way: the belief-feeling, in abnormal strength, attaches +itself, more or less accidentally, to some content which we happen to +think of at the appropriate moment. But this is only a speculation, upon +which I do not wish to lay too much stress. + + + + +LECTURE XIII. TRUTH AND FALSEHOOD + +The definition of truth and falsehood, which is our topic to-day, lies +strictly outside our general subject, namely the analysis of mind. From +the psychological standpoint, there may be different kinds of belief, +and different degrees of certainty, but there cannot be any purely +psychological means of distinguishing between true and false beliefs. +A belief is rendered true or false by relation to a fact, which may lie +outside the experience of the person entertaining the belief. Truth and +falsehood, except in the case of beliefs about our own minds, depend +upon the relations of mental occurrences to outside things, and thus +take us beyond the analysis of mental occurrences as they are in +themselves. Nevertheless, we can hardly avoid the consideration of truth +and falsehood. We wish to believe that our beliefs, sometimes at least, +yield KNOWLEDGE, and a belief does not yield knowledge unless it is +true. The question whether our minds are instruments of knowledge, and, +if so, in what sense, is so vital that any suggested analysis of mind +must be examined in relation to this question. To ignore this question +would be like describing a chronometer without regard to its accuracy +as a time-keeper, or a thermometer without mentioning the fact that it +measures temperature. + +Many difficult questions arise in connection with knowledge. It is +difficult to define knowledge, difficult to decide whether we have any +knowledge, and difficult, even if it is conceded that we sometimes have +knowledge to discover whether we can ever know that we have knowledge +in this or that particular case. I shall divide the discussion into four +parts: + +I. We may regard knowledge, from a behaviourist standpoint, as exhibited +in a certain kind of response to the environment. This response must +have some characteristics which it shares with those of scientific +instruments, but must also have others that are peculiar to knowledge. +We shall find that this point of view is important, but not exhaustive +of the nature of knowledge. + +II. We may hold that the beliefs that constitute knowledge are +distinguished from such as are erroneous or uncertain by properties +which are intrinsic either to single beliefs or to systems of beliefs, +being in either case discoverable without reference to outside fact. +Views of this kind have been widely held among philosophers, but we +shall find no reason to accept them. + +III. We believe that some beliefs are true, and some false. This raises +the problem of VERIFIABILITY: are there any circumstances which can +justifiably give us an unusual degree of certainty that such and such a +belief is true? It is obvious that there are circumstances which in fact +cause a certainty of this sort, and we wish to learn what we can from +examining these circumstances. + +IV. Finally, there is the formal problem of defining truth and +falsehood, and deriving the objective reference of a proposition from +the meanings of its component words. + +We will consider these four problems in succession. + +I. We may regard a human being as an instrument, which makes various +responses to various stimuli. If we observe these responses from +outside, we shall regard them as showing knowledge when they display +two characteristics, ACCURACY and APPROPRIATENESS. These two are quite +distinct, and even sometimes incompatible. If I am being pursued by +a tiger, accuracy is furthered by turning round to look at him, but +appropriateness by running away without making any search for +further knowledge of the beast. I shall return to the question of +appropriateness later; for the present it is accuracy that I wish to +consider. + +When we are viewing a man from the outside, it is not his beliefs, +but his bodily movements, that we can observe. His knowledge must be +inferred from his bodily movements, and especially from what he says +and writes. For the present we may ignore beliefs, and regard a man's +knowledge as actually consisting in what he says and does. That is to +say, we will construct, as far as possible, a purely behaviouristic +account of truth and falsehood. + +If you ask a boy "What is twice two?" and the boy says "four," you take +that as prima facie evidence that the boy knows what twice two is. But +if you go on to ask what is twice three, twice four, twice five, and so +on, and the boy always answers "four," you come to the conclusion that +he knows nothing about it. Exactly similar remarks apply to scientific +instruments. I know a certain weather-cock which has the pessimistic +habit of always pointing to the north-east. If you were to see it first +on a cold March day, you would think it an excellent weather-cock; but +with the first warm day of spring your confidence would be shaken. The +boy and the weather-cock have the same defect: they do not vary their +response when the stimulus is varied. A good instrument, or a person +with much knowledge, will give different responses to stimuli which +differ in relevant ways. This is the first point in defining accuracy of +response. + +We will now assume another boy, who also, when you first question him, +asserts that twice two is four. But with this boy, instead of asking him +different questions, you make a practice of asking him the same question +every day at breakfast. You find that he says five, or six, or seven, or +any other number at random, and you conclude that he also does not know +what twice two is, though by good luck he answered right the first time. +This boy is like a weather-cock which, instead of being stuck fast, is +always going round and round, changing without any change of wind. This +boy and weather-cock have the opposite defect to that of the previous +pair: they give different responses to stimuli which do not differ in +any relevant way. + +In connection with vagueness in memory, we already had occasion to +consider the definition of accuracy. Omitting some of the niceties of +our previous discussion, we may say that an instrument is ACCURATE when +it avoids the defects of the two boys and weather-cocks, that is to say, +when-- + +(a) It gives different responses to stimuli which differ in relevant +ways; + +(b) It gives the same response to stimuli which do not differ in +relevant ways. + +What are relevant ways depends upon the nature and purpose of the +instrument. In the case of a weather-cock, the direction of the wind is +relevant, but not its strength; in the case of the boy, the meaning of +the words of your question is relevant, but not the loudness of your +voice, or whether you are his father or his schoolmaster If, however, +you were a boy of his own age, that would be relevant, and the +appropriate response would be different. + +It is clear that knowledge is displayed by accuracy of response to +certain kinds of stimuli, e.g. examinations. Can we say, conversely, +that it consists wholly of such accuracy of response? I do not think +we can; but we can go a certain distance in this direction. For this +purpose we must define more carefully the kind of accuracy and the kind +of response that may be expected where there is knowledge. + +From our present point of view, it is difficult to exclude perception +from knowledge; at any rate, knowledge is displayed by actions based +upon perception. A bird flying among trees avoids bumping into their +branches; its avoidance is a response to visual sensations. This +response has the characteristic of accuracy, in the main, and leads +us to say that the bird "knows," by sight, what objects are in its +neighbourhood. For a behaviourist, this must certainly count as +knowledge, however it may be viewed by analytic psychology. In this +case, what is known, roughly, is the stimulus; but in more advanced +knowledge the stimulus and what is known become different. For example, +you look in your calendar and find that Easter will be early next year. +Here the stimulus is the calendar, whereas the response concerns the +future. Even this can be paralleled among instruments: the behaviour of +the barometer has a present stimulus but foretells the future, so that +the barometer might be said, in a sense, to know the future. However +that may be, the point I am emphasizing as regards knowledge is that +what is known may be quite different from the stimulus, and no part of +the cause of the knowledge-response. It is only in sense-knowledge that +the stimulus and what is known are, with qualifications, identifiable. +In knowledge of the future, it is obvious that they are totally +distinct, since otherwise the response would precede the stimulus. In +abstract knowledge also they are distinct, since abstract facts have no +date. In knowledge of the past there are complications, which we must +briefly examine. + +Every form of memory will be, from our present point of view, in one +sense a delayed response. But this phrase does not quite clearly +express what is meant. If you light a fuse and connect it with a heap of +dynamite, the explosion of the dynamite may be spoken of, in a sense, +as a delayed response to your lighting of the fuse. But that only means +that it is a somewhat late portion of a continuous process of which the +earlier parts have less emotional interest. This is not the case +with habit. A display of habit has two sorts of causes: (a) the past +occurrences which generated the habit, (b) the present occurrence which +brings it into play. When you drop a weight on your toe, and say what +you do say, the habit has been caused by imitation of your undesirable +associates, whereas it is brought into play by the dropping of the +weight. The great bulk of our knowledge is a habit in this sense: +whenever I am asked when I was born, I reply correctly by mere habit. It +would hardly be correct to say that getting born was the stimulus, and +that my reply is a delayed response But in cases of memory this way +of speaking would have an element of truth. In an habitual memory, the +event remembered was clearly an essential part of the stimulus to the +formation of the habit. The present stimulus which brings the habit into +play produces a different response from that which it would produce if +the habit did not exist. Therefore the habit enters into the causation +of the response, and so do, at one remove, the causes of the habit. It +follows that an event remembered is an essential part of the causes of +our remembering. + +In spite, however, of the fact that what is known is SOMETIMES an +indispensable part of the cause of the knowledge, this circumstance is, +I think, irrelevant to the general question with which we are concerned, +namely What sort of response to what sort of stimulus can be regarded +as displaying knowledge? There is one characteristic which the response +must have, namely, it must consist of voluntary movements. The need +of this characteristic is connected with the characteristic of +APPROPRIATENESS, which I do not wish to consider as yet. For the present +I wish only to obtain a clearer idea of the sort of ACCURACY that a +knowledge-response must have. It is clear from many instances that +accuracy, in other cases, may be purely mechanical. The most complete +form of accuracy consists in giving correct answers to questions, an +achievement in which calculating machines far surpass human beings. In +asking a question of a calculating machine, you must use its language: +you must not address it in English, any more than you would address +an Englishman in Chinese. But if you address it in the language it +understands, it will tell you what is 34521 times 19987, without a +moment's hesitation or a hint of inaccuracy. We do not say the machine +KNOWS the answer, because it has no purpose of its own in giving the +answer: it does not wish to impress you with its cleverness, or feel +proud of being such a good machine. But as far as mere accuracy goes, +the machine leaves nothing to be desired. + +Accuracy of response is a perfectly clear notion in the case of answers +to questions, but in other cases it is much more obscure. We may say +generally that an object whether animate or inanimate, is "sensitive" to +a certain feature of the environment if it behaves differently according +to the presence or absence of that feature. Thus iron is sensitive to +anything magnetic. But sensitiveness does not constitute knowledge, and +knowledge of a fact which is not sensible is not sensitiveness to +that fact, as we have seen in distinguishing the fact known from the +stimulus. As soon as we pass beyond the simple case of question and +answer, the definition of knowledge by means of behaviour demands the +consideration of purpose. A carrier pigeon flies home, and so we say +it "knows" the way. But if it merely flew to some place at random, we +should not say that it "knew" the way to that place, any more than a +stone rolling down hill knows the way to the valley. + +On the features which distinguish knowledge from accuracy of response in +general, not much can be said from a behaviourist point of view without +referring to purpose. But the necessity of SOMETHING besides accuracy of +response may be brought out by the following consideration: Suppose +two persons, of whom one believed whatever the other disbelieved, +and disbelieved whatever the other believed. So far as accuracy and +sensitiveness of response alone are concerned, there would be nothing to +choose between these two persons. A thermometer which went down for warm +weather and up for cold might be just as accurate as the usual kind; and +a person who always believes falsely is just as sensitive an instrument +as a person who always believes truly. The observable and practical +difference between them would be that the one who always believed +falsely would quickly come to a bad end. This illustrates once more that +accuracy of response to stimulus does not alone show knowledge, but must +be reinforced by appropriateness, i.e. suitability for realizing one's +purpose. This applies even in the apparently simple case of answering +questions: if the purpose of the answers is to deceive, their falsehood, +not their truth, will be evidence of knowledge. The proportion of +the combination of appropriateness with accuracy in the definition +of knowledge is difficult; it seems that both enter in, but that +appropriateness is only required as regards the general type of +response, not as regards each individual instance. + +II. I have so far assumed as unquestionable the view that the truth or +falsehood of a belief consists in a relation to a certain fact, +namely the objective of the belief. This view has, however, been often +questioned. Philosophers have sought some intrinsic criterion by which +true and false beliefs could be distinguished.* I am afraid their chief +reason for this search has been the wish to feel more certainty than +seems otherwise possible as to what is true and what is false. If +we could discover the truth of a belief by examining its intrinsic +characteristics, or those of some collection of beliefs of which it +forms part, the pursuit of truth, it is thought, would be a less arduous +business than it otherwise appears to be. But the attempts which +have been made in this direction are not encouraging. I will take two +criteria which have been suggested, namely, (1) self-evidence, (2) +mutual coherence. If we can show that these are inadequate, we may +feel fairly certain that no intrinsic criterion hitherto suggested will +suffice to distinguish true from false beliefs. + + * The view that such a criterion exists is generally held by + those whose views are in any degree derived from Hegel. It + may be illustrated by the following passage from Lossky, + "The Intuitive Basis of Knowledge" (Macmillan, 1919), p. + 268: "Strictly speaking, a false judgment is not a judgment + at all. The predicate does not follow from the subject S + alone, but from the subject plus a certain addition C, WHICH + IN NO SENSE BELONGS TO THE CONTENT OF THE JUDGMENT. What + takes place may be a process of association of ideas, of + imagining, or the like, but is not a process of judging. An + experienced psychologist will be able by careful observation + to detect that in this process there is wanting just the + specific element of the objective dependence of the + predicate upon the subject which is characteristic of a + judgment. It must be admitted, however, that an exceptional + power of observation is needed in order to distinguish, by + means of introspection, mere combination of ideas from + judgments." + + +(1) Self-evidence.--Some of our beliefs seem to be peculiarly +indubitable. One might instance the belief that two and two are four, +that two things cannot be in the same place at the same time, nor one +thing in two places, or that a particular buttercup that we are seeing +is yellow. The suggestion we are to examine is that such: beliefs have +some recognizable quality which secures their truth, and the truth of +whatever is deduced from them according to self-evident principles of +inference. This theory is set forth, for example, by Meinong in his +book, "Ueber die Erfahrungsgrundlagen unseres Wissens." + +If this theory is to be logically tenable, self-evidence must not +consist merely in the fact that we believe a proposition. We believe +that our beliefs are sometimes erroneous, and we wish to be able to +select a certain class of beliefs which are never erroneous. If we +are to do this, it must be by some mark which belongs only to certain +beliefs, not to all; and among those to which it belongs there must be +none that are mutually inconsistent. If, for example, two propositions +p and q were self-evident, and it were also self-evident that p and q +could not both be true, that would condemn self-evidence as a guarantee +of truth. Again, self-evidence must not be the same thing as the absence +of doubt or the presence of complete certainty. If we are completely +certain of a proposition, we do not seek a ground to support our belief. +If self-evidence is alleged as a ground of belief, that implies that +doubt has crept in, and that our self-evident proposition has not +wholly resisted the assaults of scepticism. To say that any given person +believes some things so firmly that he cannot be made to doubt them is +no doubt true. Such beliefs he will be willing to use as premisses in +reasoning, and to him personally they will seem to have as much evidence +as any belief can need. But among the propositions which one man finds +indubitable there will be some that another man finds it quite possible +to doubt. It used to seem self-evident that there could not be men at +the Antipodes, because they would fall off, or at best grow giddy from +standing on their heads. But New Zealanders find the falsehood of this +proposition self-evident. Therefore, if self-evidence is a guarantee of +truth, our ancestors must have been mistaken in thinking their beliefs +about the Antipodes self-evident. Meinong meets this difficulty by +saying that some beliefs are falsely thought to be self-evident, but in +the case of others it is self-evident that they are self-evident, and +these are wholly reliable. Even this, however, does not remove the +practical risk of error, since we may mistakenly believe it self-evident +that a certain belief is self-evident. To remove all risk of error, we +shall need an endless series of more and more complicated self-evident +beliefs, which cannot possibly be realized in practice. It would seem, +therefore, that self-evidence is useless as a practical criterion for +insuring truth. + +The same result follows from examining instances. If we take the four +instances mentioned at the beginning of this discussion, we shall +find that three of them are logical, while the fourth is a judgment of +perception. The proposition that two and two are four follows by purely +logical deduction from definitions: that means that its truth results, +not from the properties of objects, but from the meanings of symbols. +Now symbols, in mathematics, mean what we choose; thus the feeling of +self-evidence, in this case, seems explicable by the fact that the whole +matter is within our control. I do not wish to assert that this is +the whole truth about mathematical propositions, for the question is +complicated, and I do not know what the whole truth is. But I do wish to +suggest that the feeling of self-evidence in mathematical propositions +has to do with the fact that they are concerned with the meanings of +symbols, not with properties of the world such as external observation +might reveal. + +Similar considerations apply to the impossibility of a thing being in +two places at once, or of two things being in one place at the same +time. These impossibilities result logically, if I am not mistaken, from +the definitions of one thing and one place. That is to say, they are not +laws of physics, but only part of the intellectual apparatus which we +have manufactured for manipulating physics. Their self-evidence, if this +is so, lies merely in the fact that they represent our decision as to +the use of words, not a property of physical objects. + +Judgments of perception, such as "this buttercup is yellow," are in +a quite different position from judgments of logic, and their +self-evidence must have a different explanation. In order to arrive at +the nucleus of such a judgment, we will eliminate, as far as possible, +the use of words which take us beyond the present fact, such as +"buttercup" and "yellow." The simplest kind of judgment underlying the +perception that a buttercup is yellow would seem to be the perception of +similarity in two colours seen simultaneously. Suppose we are seeing +two buttercups, and we perceive that their colours are similar. This +similarity is a physical fact, not a matter of symbols or words; and it +certainly seems to be indubitable in a way that many judgments are not. + +The first thing to observe, in regard to such judgments, is that as they +stand they are vague. The word "similar" is a vague word, since there +are degrees of similarity, and no one can say where similarity ends +and dissimilarity begins. It is unlikely that our two buttercups have +EXACTLY the same colour, and if we judged that they had we should have +passed altogether outside the region of self-evidence. To make our +proposition more precise, let us suppose that we are also seeing a +red rose at the same time. Then we may judge that the colours of the +buttercups are more similar to each other than to the colour of the +rose. This judgment seems more complicated, but has certainly gained +in precision. Even now, however, it falls short of complete precision, +since similarity is not prima facie measurable, and it would require +much discussion to decide what we mean by greater or less similarity. To +this process of the pursuit of precision there is strictly no limit. + +The next thing to observe (although I do not personally doubt that most +of our judgments of perception are true) is that it is very difficult to +define any class of such judgments which can be known, by its intrinsic +quality, to be always exempt from error. Most of our judgments of +perception involve correlations, as when we judge that a certain noise +is that of a passing cart. Such judgments are all obviously liable to +error, since there is no correlation of which we have a right to be +certain that it is invariable. Other judgments of perception are derived +from recognition, as when we say "this is a buttercup," or even merely +"this is yellow." All such judgments entail some risk of error, +though sometimes perhaps a very small one; some flowers that look like +buttercups are marigolds, and colours that some would call yellow others +might call orange. Our subjective certainty is usually a result of +habit, and may lead us astray in circumstances which are unusual in ways +of which we are unaware. + +For such reasons, no form of self-evidence seems to afford an absolute +criterion of truth. Nevertheless, it is perhaps true that judgments +having a high degree of subjective certainty are more apt to be true +than other judgments. But if this be the case, it is a result to be +demonstrated, not a premiss from which to start in defining truth and +falsehood. As an initial guarantee, therefore, neither self-evidence nor +subjective certainty can be accepted as adequate. + +(2) Coherence.--Coherence as the definition of truth is advocated by +idealists, particularly by those who in the main follow Hegel. It is set +forth ably in Mr. Joachim's book, "The Nature of Truth" (Oxford, 1906). +According to this view, any set of propositions other than the whole +of truth can be condemned on purely logical grounds, as internally +inconsistent; a single proposition, if it is what we should ordinarily +call false, contradicts itself irremediably, while if it is what we +should ordinarily call true, it has implications which compel us to +admit other propositions, which in turn lead to others, and so on, until +we find ourselves committed to the whole of truth. One might illustrate +by a very simple example: if I say "so-and-so is a married man," that +is not a self-subsistent proposition. We cannot logically conceive of a +universe in which this proposition constituted the whole of truth. There +must be also someone who is a married woman, and who is married to +the particular man in question. The view we are considering regards +everything that can be said about any one object as relative in the same +sort of way as "so-and-so is a married man." But everything, according +to this view, is relative, not to one or two other things, but to all +other things, so that from one bit of truth the whole can be inferred. + +The fundamental objection to this view is logical, and consists in a +criticism of its doctrine as to relations. I shall omit this line of +argument, which I have developed elsewhere.* For the moment I will +content myself with saying that the powers of logic seem to me very +much less than this theory supposes. If it were taken seriously, its +advocates ought to profess that any one truth is logically inferable +from any other, and that, for example, the fact that Caesar conquered +Gaul, if adequately considered, would enable us to discover what the +weather will be to-morrow. No such claim is put forward in practice, and +the necessity of empirical observation is not denied; but according to +the theory it ought to be. + + * In the article on "The Monistic Theory of Truth" in + "Philosophical Essays" (Longmans, 1910), reprinted from the + "Proceedings of the Aristotelian Society," 1906-7. + +Another objection is that no endeavour is made to show that we cannot +form a consistent whole composed partly or wholly of false propositions, +as in a novel. Leibniz's conception of many possible worlds seems to +accord much better with modern logic and with the practical empiricism +which is now universal. The attempt to deduce the world by pure thought +is attractive, and in former times was largely supposed capable of +success. But nowadays most men admit that beliefs must be tested by +observation, and not merely by the fact that they harmonize with other +beliefs. A consistent fairy-tale is a different thing from truth, +however elaborate it may be. But to pursue this topic would lead us +into difficult technicalities; I shall therefore assume, without further +argument, that coherence is not sufficient as a definition of truth. + +III. Many difficult problems arise as regards the verifiability of +beliefs. We believe various things, and while we believe them we think +we know them. But it sometimes turns out that we were mistaken, or at +any rate we come to think we were. We must be mistaken either in our +previous opinion or in our subsequent recantation; therefore our beliefs +are not all correct, and there are cases of belief which are not cases +of knowledge. The question of verifiability is in essence this: can we +discover any set of beliefs which are never mistaken or any test which, +when applicable, will always enable us to discriminate between true +and false beliefs? Put thus broadly and abstractly, the answer must be +negative. There is no way hitherto discovered of wholly eliminating the +risk of error, and no infallible criterion. If we believe we have found +a criterion, this belief itself may be mistaken; we should be begging +the question if we tried to test the criterion by applying the criterion +to itself. + +But although the notion of an absolute criterion is chimerical, there +may be relative criteria, which increase the probability of truth. +Common sense and science hold that there are. Let us see what they have +to say. + +One of the plainest cases of verification, perhaps ultimately the only +case, consists in the happening of something expected. You go to the +station believing that there will be a train at a certain time; you +find the train, you get into it, and it starts at the expected time This +constitutes verification, and is a perfectly definite experience. It is, +in a sense, the converse of memory instead of having first sensations +and then images accompanied by belief, we have first images accompanied +by belief and then sensations. Apart from differences as to the +time-order and the accompanying feelings, the relation between image and +sensation is closely similar in the two cases of memory and expectation; +it is a relation of similarity, with difference as to causal +efficacy--broadly, the image has the psychological but not the physical +effects that the sensation would have. When an image accompanied by +an expectation-belief is thus succeeded by a sensation which is the +"meaning" of the image, we say that the expectation-belief has been +verified. The experience of verification in this sense is exceedingly +familiar; it happens every time that accustomed activities have results +that are not surprising, in eating and walking and talking and all our +daily pursuits. + +But although the experience in question is common, it is not wholly easy +to give a theoretical account of it. How do we know that the sensation +resembles the previous image? Does the image persist in presence of the +sensation, so that we can compare the two? And even if SOME image does +persist, how do we know that it is the previous image unchanged? It does +not seem as if this line of inquiry offered much hope of a successful +issue. It is better, I think, to take a more external and causal view of +the relation of expectation to expected occurrence. If the occurrence, +when it comes, gives us the feeling of expectedness, and if the +expectation, beforehand, enabled us to act in a way which proves +appropriate to the occurrence, that must be held to constitute the +maximum of verification. We have first an expectation, then a sensation +with the feeling of expectedness related to memory of the expectation. +This whole experience, when it occurs, may be defined as verification, +and as constituting the truth of the expectation. Appropriate action, +during the period of expectation, may be regarded as additional +verification, but is not essential. The whole process may be illustrated +by looking up a familiar quotation, finding it in the expected words, +and in the expected part of the book. In this case we can strengthen +the verification by writing down beforehand the words which we expect to +find. + +I think all verification is ultimately of the above sort. We verify a +scientific hypothesis indirectly, by deducing consequences as to the +future, which subsequent experience confirms. If somebody were to doubt +whether Caesar had crossed the Rubicon, verification could only be +obtained from the future. We could proceed to display manuscripts to our +historical sceptic, in which it was said that Caesar had behaved in this +way. We could advance arguments, verifiable by future experience, to +prove the antiquity of the manuscript from its texture, colour, etc. We +could find inscriptions agreeing with the historian on other points, +and tending to show his general accuracy. The causal laws which our +arguments would assume could be verified by the future occurrence of +events inferred by means of them. The existence and persistence of +causal laws, it is true, must be regarded as a fortunate accident, and +how long it will continue we cannot tell. Meanwhile verification remains +often practically possible. And since it is sometimes possible, we +can gradually discover what kinds of beliefs tend to be verified by +experience, and what kinds tend to be falsified; to the former kinds +we give an increased degree of assent, to the latter kinds a diminished +degree. The process is not absolute or infallible, but it has been +found capable of sifting beliefs and building up science. It affords +no theoretical refutation of the sceptic, whose position must remain +logically unassailable; but if complete scepticism is rejected, it gives +the practical method by which the system of our beliefs grows gradually +towards the unattainable ideal of impeccable knowledge. + +IV. I come now to the purely formal definition of the truth or falsehood +of a belief. For this definition it is necessary first of all to +consider the derivation of the objective reference of a proposition from +the meanings of its component words or images. + +Just as a word has meaning, so a proposition has an objective reference. +The objective reference of a proposition is a function (in the +mathematical sense) of the meanings of its component words. But the +objective reference differs from the meaning of a word through the +duality of truth and falsehood. You may believe the proposition "to-day +is Tuesday" both when, in fact, to-day is Tuesday, and when to-day is +not Tuesday. If to-day is not Tuesday, this fact is the objective of +your belief that to-day is Tuesday. But obviously the relation of your +belief to the fact is different in this case from what it is in the case +when to-day is Tuesday. We may say, metaphorically, that when to-day is +Tuesday, your belief that it is Tuesday points TOWARDS the fact, whereas +when to-day is not Tuesday your belief points AWAY FROM the fact. Thus +the objective reference of a belief is not determined by the fact alone, +but by the direction of the belief towards or away from the fact.* If, +on a Tuesday, one man believes that it is Tuesday while another believes +that it is not Tuesday, their beliefs have the same objective, namely +the fact that it is Tuesday but the true belief points towards the fact +while the false one points away from it. Thus, in order to define the +reference of a proposition we have to take account not only of the +objective, but also of the direction of pointing, towards the objective +in the case of a true proposition and away from it in the case of a +false one. + + * I owe this way of looking at the matter to my friend + Ludwig Wittgenstein. + +This mode of stating the nature of the objective reference of a +proposition is necessitated by the circumstance that there are true and +false propositions, but not true and false facts. If to-day is Tuesday, +there is not a false objective "to-day is not Tuesday," which could be +the objective of the false belief "to-day is not Tuesday." This is the +reason why two beliefs which are each other's contradictories have the +same objective. There is, however, a practical inconvenience, namely +that we cannot determine the objective reference of a proposition, +according to this definition, unless we know whether the proposition +is true or false. To avoid this inconvenience, it is better to adopt +a slightly different phraseology, and say: The "meaning" of the +proposition "to-day is Tuesday" consists in pointing to the fact "to-day +is Tuesday" if that is a fact, or away from the fact "to-day is not +Tuesday" if that is a fact. The "meaning" of the proposition "to-day is +not Tuesday" will be exactly the opposite. By this hypothetical form +we are able to speak of the meaning of a proposition without knowing +whether it is true or false. According to this definition, we know the +meaning of a proposition when we know what would make it true and what +would make it false, even if we do not know whether it is in fact true +or false. + +The meaning of a proposition is derivative from the meanings of its +constituent words. Propositions occur in pairs, distinguished (in +simple cases) by the absence or presence of the word "not." Two such +propositions have the same objective, but opposite meanings: when one is +true, the other is false, and when one is false, the other is true. + +The purely formal definition of truth and falsehood offers little +difficulty. What is required is a formal expression of the fact that a +proposition is true when it points towards its objective, and false when +it points away from it, In very simple cases we can give a very simple +account of this: we can say that true propositions actually resemble +their objectives in a way in which false propositions do not. But for +this purpose it is necessary to revert to image-propositions instead of +word-propositions. Let us take again the illustration of a memory-image +of a familiar room, and let us suppose that in the image the window is +to the left of the door. If in fact the window is to the left of the +door, there is a correspondence between the image and the objective; +there is the same relation between the window and the door as between +the images of them. The image-memory consists of the image of the window +to the left of the image of the door. When this is true, the very same +relation relates the terms of the objective (namely the window and +the door) as relates the images which mean them. In this case the +correspondence which constitutes truth is very simple. + +In the case we have just been considering the objective consists of +two parts with a certain relation (that of left-to-right), and the +proposition consists of images of these parts with the very same +relation. The same proposition, if it were false, would have a less +simple formal relation to its objective. If the image-proposition +consists of an image of the window to the left of an image of the door, +while in fact the window is not to the left of the door, the proposition +does not result from the objective by the mere substitution of images +for their prototypes. Thus in this unusually simple case we can say that +a true proposition "corresponds" to its objective in a formal sense in +which a false proposition does not. Perhaps it may be possible to modify +this notion of formal correspondence in such a way as to be more widely +applicable, but if so, the modifications required will be by no means +slight. The reasons for this must now be considered. + +To begin with, the simple type of correspondence we have been exhibiting +can hardly occur when words are substituted for images, because, in +word-propositions, relations are usually expressed by words, which are +not themselves relations. Take such a proposition as "Socrates +precedes Plato." Here the word "precedes" is just as solid as the words +"Socrates" and "Plato"; it MEANS a relation, but is not a relation. Thus +the objective which makes our proposition true consists of TWO terms +with a relation between them, whereas our proposition consists of THREE +terms with a relation of order between them. Of course, it would be +perfectly possible, theoretically, to indicate a few chosen relations, +not by words, but by relations between the other words. "Socrates-Plato" +might be used to mean "Socrates precedes Plato"; "Plato-Socrates" might +be used to mean "Plato was born before Socrates and died after him"; and +so on. But the possibilities of such a method would be very limited. For +aught I know, there may be languages that use it, but they are not among +the languages with which I am acquainted. And in any case, in view of +the multiplicity of relations that we wish to express, no language could +advance far without words for relations. But as soon as we have words +for relations, word-propositions have necessarily more terms than the +facts to which they refer, and cannot therefore correspond so simply +with their objectives as some image-propositions can. + +The consideration of negative propositions and negative facts introduces +further complications. An image-proposition is necessarily positive: +we can image the window to the left of the door, or to the right of the +door, but we can form no image of the bare negative "the window not to +the left of the door." We can DISBELIEVE the image-proposition expressed +by "the window to the left of the door," and our disbelief will be true +if the window is not to the left of the door. But we can form no image +of the fact that the window is not to the left of the door. Attempts +have often been made to deny such negative facts, but, for reasons which +I have given elsewhere,* I believe these attempts to be mistaken, and I +shall assume that there are negative facts. + + * "Monist," January, 1919, p. 42 ff. + +Word-propositions, like image-propositions, are always positive facts. +The fact that Socrates precedes Plato is symbolized in English by the +fact that the word "precedes" occurs between the words "Socrates" and +"Plato." But we cannot symbolize the fact that Plato does not precede +Socrates by not putting the word "precedes" between "Plato" and +"Socrates." A negative fact is not sensible, and language, being +intended for communication, has to be sensible. Therefore we symbolize +the fact that Plato does not precede Socrates by putting the words "does +not precede" between "Plato" and "Socrates." We thus obtain a series of +words which is just as positive a fact as the series "Socrates precedes +Plato." The propositions asserting negative facts are themselves +positive facts; they are merely different positive facts from those +asserting positive facts. + +We have thus, as regards the opposition of positive and negative, three +different sorts of duality, according as we are dealing with facts, +image-propositions, or word-propositions. We have, namely: + +(1) Positive and negative facts; + +(2) Image-propositions, which may be believed or disbelieved, but do +not allow any duality of content corresponding to positive and negative +facts; + +(3) Word-propositions, which are always positive facts, but are of two +kinds: one verified by a positive objective, the other by a negative +objective. + +Owing to these complications, the simplest type of correspondence is +impossible when either negative facts or negative propositions are +involved. + +Even when we confine ourselves to relations between two terms which are +both imaged, it may be impossible to form an image-proposition in which +the relation of the terms is represented by the same relation of the +images. Suppose we say "Caesar was 2,000 years before Foch," we express +a certain temporal relation between Caesar and Foch; but we cannot allow +2,000 years to elapse between our image of Caesar and our image of Foch. +This is perhaps not a fair example, since "2,000 years before" is not a +direct relation. But take a case where the relation is direct, say, "the +sun is brighter than the moon." We can form visual images of sunshine +and moonshine, and it may happen that our image of the sunshine is +the brighter of the two, but this is by no means either necessary or +sufficient. The act of comparison, implied in our judgment, is something +more than the mere coexistence of two images, one of which is in fact +brighter than the other. It would take us too far from our main topic if +we were to go into the question what actually occurs when we make this +judgment. Enough has been said to show that the correspondence between +the belief and its objective is more complicated in this case than in +that of the window to the left of the door, and this was all that had to +be proved. + +In spite of these complications, the general nature of the formal +correspondence which makes truth is clear from our instances. In the +case of the simpler kind of propositions, namely those that I call +"atomic" propositions, where there is only one word expressing a +relation, the objective which would verify our proposition, assuming +that the word "not" is absent, is obtained by replacing each word +by what it means, the word meaning a relation being replaced by this +relation among the meanings of the other words. For example, if the +proposition is "Socrates precedes Plato," the objective which verifies +it results from replacing the word "Socrates" by Socrates, the word +"Plato" by Plato, and the word "precedes" by the relation of preceding +between Socrates and Plato. If the result of this process is a fact, +the proposition is true; if not, it is false. When our proposition is +"Socrates does not precede Plato," the conditions of truth and falsehood +are exactly reversed. More complicated propositions can be dealt with on +the same lines. In fact, the purely formal question, which has occupied +us in this last section, offers no very formidable difficulties. + +I do not believe that the above formal theory is untrue, but I do +believe that it is inadequate. It does not, for example, throw any +light upon our preference for true beliefs rather than false ones. This +preference is only explicable by taking account of the causal efficacy +of beliefs, and of the greater appropriateness of the responses +resulting from true beliefs. But appropriateness depends upon purpose, +and purpose thus becomes a vital part of theory of knowledge. + + + + +LECTURE XIV. EMOTIONS AND WILL + +On the two subjects of the present lecture I have nothing original to +say, and I am treating them only in order to complete the discussion of +my main thesis, namely that all psychic phenomena are built up out of +sensations and images alone. + +Emotions are traditionally regarded by psychologists as a separate +class of mental occurrences: I am, of course, not concerned to deny +the obvious fact that they have characteristics which make a special +investigation of them necessary. What I am concerned with is the +analysis of emotions. It is clear that an emotion is essentially +complex, and we have to inquire whether it ever contains any +non-physiological material not reducible to sensations and images and +their relations. + +Although what specially concerns us is the analysis of emotions, we +shall find that the more important topic is the physiological causation +of emotions. This is a subject upon which much valuable and exceedingly +interesting work has been done, whereas the bare analysis of emotions +has proved somewhat barren. In view of the fact that we have defined +perceptions, sensations, and images by their physiological causation, it +is evident that our problem of the analysis of the emotions is bound up +with the problem of their physiological causation. + +Modern views on the causation of emotions begin with what is called +the James-Lange theory. James states this view in the following terms +("Psychology," vol. ii, p. 449): + +"Our natural way of thinking about these coarser emotions, grief, fear, +rage, love, is that the mental perception of some fact excites the +mental affection called the emotion, and that this latter state of mind +gives rise to the bodily expression. My theory, on the contrary, is that +THE BODILY CHANGES FOLLOW DIRECTLY THE PERCEPTION OF THE EXCITING FACT, +AND THAT OUR FEELING OF THE SAME CHANGES AS THEY OCCUR _IS_ THE EMOTION +(James's italics). Common sense says: we lose our fortune, are sorry +and weep; we meet a bear, are frightened and run; we are insulted by +a rival, are angry and strike. The hypothesis here to be defended says +that this order of sequence is incorrect, that the one mental state is +not immediately induced by the other, that the bodily manifestations +must first be interposed between, and that the more rational statement +is that we feel sorry because we cry, angry because we strike, afraid +because we tremble, and not that we cry, strike, or tremble, because +we are sorry, angry, or fearful, as the case may be. Without the bodily +states following on the perception, the latter would be purely cognitive +in form, pale, colourless, destitute of emotional warmth." + +Round this hypothesis a very voluminous literature has grown up. The +history of its victory over earlier criticism, and its difficulties with +the modern experimental work of Sherrington and Cannon, is well told +by James R. Angell in an article called "A Reconsideration of James's +Theory of Emotion in the Light of Recent Criticisms."* In this article +Angell defends James's theory and to me--though I speak with diffidence +on a question as to which I have little competence--it appears that his +defence is on the whole successful. + + * "Psychological Review," 1916. + +Sherrington, by experiments on dogs, showed that many of the usual marks +of emotion were present in their behaviour even when, by severing the +spinal cord in the lower cervical region, the viscera were cut off from +all communication with the brain, except that existing through certain +cranial nerves. He mentions the various signs which "contributed to +indicate the existence of an emotion as lively as the animal had ever +shown us before the spinal operation had been made."* He infers that +the physiological condition of the viscera cannot be the cause of the +emotion displayed under such circumstances, and concludes: "We are +forced back toward the likelihood that the visceral expression of +emotion is SECONDARY to the cerebral action occurring with the psychical +state.... We may with James accept visceral and organic sensations +and the memories and associations of them as contributory to primitive +emotion, but we must regard them as re-enforcing rather than as +initiating the psychosis."* + + * Quoted by Angell, loc. cit. + + +Angell suggests that the display of emotion in such cases may be due +to past experience, generating habits which would require only the +stimulation of cerebral reflex arcs. Rage and some forms of fear, +however, may, he thinks, gain expression without the brain. Rage and +fear have been especially studied by Cannon, whose work is of the +greatest importance. His results are given in his book, "Bodily Changes +in Pain, Hunger, Fear and Rage" (D. Appleton and Co., 1916). + +The most interesting part of Cannon's book consists in the investigation +of the effects produced by secretion of adrenin. Adrenin is a substance +secreted into the blood by the adrenal glands. These are among the +ductless glands, the functions of which, both in physiology and in +connection with the emotions, have only come to be known during recent +years. Cannon found that pain, fear and rage occurred in circumstances +which affected the supply of adrenin, and that an artificial injection +of adrenin could, for example, produce all the symptoms of fear. He +studied the effects of adrenin on various parts of the body; he found +that it causes the pupils to dilate, hairs to stand erect, blood vessels +to be constricted, and so on. These effects were still produced if +the parts in question were removed from the body and kept alive +artificially.* + + * Cannon's work is not unconnected with that of Mosso, who + maintains, as the result of much experimental work, that + "the seat of the emotions lies in the sympathetic nervous + system." An account of the work of both these men will be + found in Goddard's "Psychology of the Normal and Sub-normal" + (Kegan Paul, 1919), chap. vii and Appendix. + +Cannon's chief argument against James is, if I understand him rightly, +that similar affections of the viscera may accompany dissimilar +emotions, especially fear and rage. Various different emotions make +us cry, and therefore it cannot be true to say, as James does, that we +"feel sorry because we cry," since sometimes we cry when we feel glad. +This argument, however, is by no means conclusive against James, because +it cannot be shown that there are no visceral differences for different +emotions, and indeed it is unlikely that this is the case. + +As Angell says (loc. cit.): "Fear and joy may both cause cardiac +palpitation, but in one case we find high tonus of the skeletal muscles, +in the other case relaxation and the general sense of weakness." + +Angell's conclusion, after discussing the experiments of Sherrington +and Cannon, is: "I would therefore submit that, so far as concerns +the critical suggestions by these two psychologists, James's essential +contentions are not materially affected." If it were necessary for me to +take sides on this question, I should agree with this conclusion; but I +think my thesis as to the analysis of emotion can be maintained without +coming to a probably premature conclusion upon the doubtful parts of +the physiological problem. + +According to our definitions, if James is right, an emotion may be +regarded as involving a confused perception of the viscera concerned +in its causation, while if Cannon and Sherrington are right, an emotion +involves a confused perception of its external stimulus. This follows +from what was said in Lecture VII. We there defined a perception as an +appearance, however irregular, of one or more objects external to the +brain. And in order to be an appearance of one or more objects, it is +only necessary that the occurrence in question should be connected +with them by a continuous chain, and should vary when they are varied +sufficiently. Thus the question whether a mental occurrence can be +called a perception turns upon the question whether anything can be +inferred from it as to its causes outside the brain: if such inference +is possible, the occurrence in question will come within our definition +of a perception. And in that case, according to the definition in +Lecture VIII, its non-mnemic elements will be sensations. Accordingly, +whether emotions are caused by changes in the viscera or by sensible +objects, they contain elements which are sensations according to our +definition. + +An emotion in its entirety is, of course, something much more complex +than a perception. An emotion is essentially a process, and it will be +only what one may call a cross-section of the emotion that will be a +perception, of a bodily condition according to James, or (in certain +cases) of an external object according to his opponents. An emotion in +its entirety contains dynamic elements, such as motor impulses, desires, +pleasures and pains. Desires and pleasures and pains, according to the +theory adopted in Lecture III, are characteristics of processes, not +separate ingredients. An emotion--rage, for example--will be a certain +kind of process, consisting of perceptions and (in general) bodily +movements. The desires and pleasures and pains involved are properties +of this process, not separate items in the stuff of which the emotion +is composed. The dynamic elements in an emotion, if we are right in our +analysis, contain, from our point of view, no ingredients beyond those +contained in the processes considered in Lecture III. The ingredients +of an emotion are only sensations and images and bodily movements +succeeding each other according to a certain pattern. With this +conclusion we may leave the emotions and pass to the consideration of +the will. + +The first thing to be defined when we are dealing with Will is a +VOLUNTARY MOVEMENT. We have already defined vital movements, and we have +maintained that, from a behaviourist standpoint, it is impossible to +distinguish which among such movements are reflex and which voluntary. +Nevertheless, there certainly is a distinction. When we decide in the +morning that it is time to get up, our consequent movement is voluntary. +The beating of the heart, on the other hand, is involuntary: we can +neither cause it nor prevent it by any decision of our own, except +indirectly, as e.g. by drugs. Breathing is intermediate between the two: +we normally breathe without the help of the will, but we can alter or +stop our breathing if we choose. + +James ("Psychology," chap. xxvi) maintains that the only distinctive +characteristic of a voluntary act is that it involves an idea of the +movement to be performed, made up of memory-images of the kinaesthetic +sensations which we had when the same movement occurred on some former +occasion. He points out that, on this view, no movement can be made +voluntarily unless it has previously occurred involuntarily.* + + * "Psychology," Vol. ii, pp. 492-3. + +I see no reason to doubt the correctness of this view. We shall say, +then, that movements which are accompanied by kinaesthetic sensations +tend to be caused by the images of those sensations, and when so caused +are called VOLUNTARY. + +Volition, in the emphatic sense, involves something more than +voluntary movement. The sort of case I am thinking of is decision after +deliberation. Voluntary movements are a part of this, but not the whole. +There is, in addition to them, a judgment: "This is what I shall +do"; there is also a sensation of tension during doubt, followed by a +different sensation at the moment of deciding. I see no reason whatever +to suppose that there is any specifically new ingredient; sensations and +images, with their relations and causal laws, yield all that seems to +be wanted for the analysis of the will, together with the fact that +kinaesthetic images tend to cause the movements with which they are +connected. Conflict of desires is of course essential in the causation +of the emphatic kind of will: there will be for a time kinaesthetic +images of incompatible movements, followed by the exclusive image of +the movement which is said to be willed. Thus will seems to add no new +irreducible ingredient to the analysis of the mind. + + + + +LECTURE XV. CHARACTERISTICS OF MENTAL PHENOMENA + +At the end of our journey it is time to return to the question from +which we set out, namely: What is it that characterizes mind as opposed +to matter? Or, to state the same question in other terms: How is +psychology to be distinguished from physics? The answer provisionally +suggested at the outset of our inquiry was that psychology and physics +are distinguished by the nature of their causal laws, not by their +subject matter. At the same time we held that there is a certain subject +matter, namely images, to which only psychological causal laws are +applicable; this subject matter, therefore, we assigned exclusively to +psychology. But we found no way of defining images except through +their causation; in their intrinsic character they appeared to have no +universal mark by which they could be distinguished from sensations. + +In this last lecture I propose to pass in review various suggested +methods of distinguishing mind from matter. I shall then briefly sketch +the nature of that fundamental science which I believe to be the true +metaphysic, in which mind and matter alike are seen to be constructed +out of a neutral stuff, whose causal laws have no such duality as that +of psychology, but form the basis upon which both physics and psychology +are built. + +In search for the definition of "mental phenomena," let us begin with +"consciousness," which is often thought to be the essence of mind. +In the first lecture I gave various arguments against the view that +consciousness is fundamental, but I did not attempt to say what +consciousness is. We must find a definition of it, if we are to feel +secure in deciding that it is not fundamental. It is for the sake of the +proof that it is not fundamental that we must now endeavour to decide +what it is. + +"Consciousness," by those who regard it as fundamental, is taken to be a +character diffused throughout our mental life, distinct from sensations +and images, memories, beliefs and desires, but present in all of +them.* Dr. Henry Head, in an article which I quoted in Lecture III, +distinguishing sensations from purely physiological occurrences, says: +"Sensation, in the strict sense of the term, demands the existence of +consciousness." This statement, at first sight, is one to which we feel +inclined to assent, but I believe we are mistaken if we do so. Sensation +is the sort of thing of which we MAY be conscious, but not a thing +of which we MUST be conscious. We have been led, in the course of our +inquiry, to admit unconscious beliefs and unconscious desires. There is, +so far as I can see, no class of mental or other occurrences of which we +are always conscious whenever they happen. + + * Cf. Lecture VI. + +The first thing to notice is that consciousness must be of something. In +view of this, I should define "consciousness" in terms of that relation +of an image of a word to an object which we defined, in Lecture XI, as +"meaning." When a sensation is followed by an image which is a "copy" of +it, I think it may be said that the existence of the image constitutes +consciousness of the sensation, provided it is accompanied by that sort +of belief which, when we reflect upon it, makes us feel that the image +is a "sign" of something other than itself. This is the sort of belief +which, in the case of memory, we expressed in the words "this occurred"; +or which, in the case of a judgment of perception, makes us believe +in qualities correlated with present sensations, as e.g., tactile and +visual qualities are correlated. The addition of some element of belief +seems required, since mere imagination does not involve consciousness of +anything, and there can be no consciousness which is not of something. +If images alone constituted consciousness of their prototypes, +such imagination-images as in fact have prototypes would involve +consciousness of them; since this is not the case, an element of belief +must be added to the images in defining consciousness. The belief must +be of that sort that constitutes objective reference, past or +present. An image, together with a belief of this sort concerning it, +constitutes, according to our definition, consciousness of the prototype +of the image. + +But when we pass from consciousness of sensations to consciousness of +objects of perception, certain further points arise which demand an +addition to our definition. A judgment of perception, we may say, +consists of a core of sensation, together with associated images, with +belief in the present existence of an object to which sensation and +images are referred in a way which is difficult to analyse. Perhaps we +might say that the belief is not fundamentally in any PRESENT existence, +but is of the nature of an expectation: for example, when we see an +object, we expect certain sensations to result if we proceed to touch +it. Perception, then, will consist of a present sensation together with +expectations of future sensations. (This, of course, is a reflective +analysis, not an account of the way perception appears to unchecked +introspection.) But all such expectations are liable to be erroneous, +since they are based upon correlations which are usual but not +invariable. Any such correlation may mislead us in a particular case, +for example, if we try to touch a reflection in a looking-glass under +the impression that it is "real." Since memory is fallible, a similar +difficulty arises as regards consciousness of past objects. It would +seem odd to say that we can be "conscious" of a thing which does not or +did not exist. The only way to avoid this awkwardness is to add to our +definition the proviso that the beliefs involved in consciousness must +be TRUE. + +In the second place, the question arises as to whether we can be +conscious of images. If we apply our definition to this case, it seems +to demand images of images. In order, for example, to be conscious of +an image of a cat, we shall require, according to the letter of the +definition, an image which is a copy of our image of the cat, and has +this image for its prototype. Now, it hardly seems probable, as a matter +of observation, that there are images of images, as opposed to images +of sensations. We may meet this difficulty in two ways, either by boldly +denying consciousness of images, or by finding a sense in which, by +means of a different accompanying belief, an image, instead of meaning +its prototype, can mean another image of the same prototype. + +The first alternative, which denies consciousness of images, has already +been discussed when we were dealing with Introspection in Lecture VI. We +then decided that there must be, in some sense, consciousness of images. +We are therefore left with the second suggested way of dealing with +knowledge of images. According to this second hypothesis, there may be +two images of the same prototype, such that one of them means the other, +instead of meaning the prototype. It will be remembered that we defined +meaning by association a word or image means an object, we said, when it +has the same associations as the object. But this definition must not be +interpreted too absolutely: a word or image will not have ALL the +same associations as the object which it means. The word "cat" may +be associated with the word "mat," but it would not happen except by +accident that a cat would be associated with a mat. And in like manner +an image may have certain associations which its prototype will not +have, e.g. an association with the word "image." When these associations +are active, an image means an image, instead of meaning its prototype. +If I have had images of a given prototype many times, I can mean one of +these, as opposed to the rest, by recollecting the time and place or any +other distinctive association of that one occasion. This happens, for +example, when a place recalls to us some thought we previously had in +that place, so that we remember a thought as opposed to the occurrence +to which it referred. Thus we may say that we think of an image A when +we have a similar image B associated with recollections of circumstances +connected with A, but not with its prototype or with other images of the +same prototype. In this way we become aware of images without the +need of any new store of mental contents, merely by the help of new +associations. This theory, so far as I can see, solves the problems of +introspective knowledge, without requiring heroic measures such as those +proposed by Knight Dunlap, whose views we discussed in Lecture VI. + +According to what we have been saying, sensation itself is not an +instance of consciousness, though the immediate memory by which it is +apt to be succeeded is so. A sensation which is remembered becomes an +object of consciousness as soon as it begins to be remembered, which +will normally be almost immediately after its occurrence (if at all); +but while it exists it is not an object of consciousness. If, however, +it is part of a perception, say of some familiar person, we may say that +the person perceived is an object of consciousness. For in this case +the sensation is a SIGN of the perceived object in much the same way +in which a memory-image is a sign of a remembered object. The essential +practical function of "consciousness" and "thought" is that they enable +us to act with reference to what is distant in time or space, even +though it is not at present stimulating our senses. This reference +to absent objects is possible through association and habit. Actual +sensations, in themselves, are not cases of consciousness, because they +do not bring in this reference to what is absent. But their connection +with consciousness is very close, both through immediate memory, and +through the correlations which turn sensations into perceptions. + +Enough has, I hope, been said to show that consciousness is far too +complex and accidental to be taken as the fundamental characteristic +of mind. We have seen that belief and images both enter into it. Belief +itself, as we saw in an earlier lecture, is complex. Therefore, if any +definition of mind is suggested by our analysis of consciousness, images +are what would naturally suggest themselves. But since we found +that images can only be defined causally, we cannot deal with this +suggestion, except in connection with the difference between physical +and psychological causal laws. + +I come next to those characteristics of mental phenomena which arise out +of mnemic causation. The possibility of action with reference to what +is not sensibly present is one of the things that might be held to +characterize mind. Let us take first a very elementary example. Suppose +you are in a familiar room at night, and suddenly the light goes out. +You will be able to find your way to the door without much difficulty +by means of the picture of the room which you have in your mind. In this +case visual images serve, somewhat imperfectly it is true, the purpose +which visual sensations would otherwise serve. The stimulus to the +production of visual images is the desire to get out of the room, which, +according to what we found in Lecture III, consists essentially of +present sensations and motor impulses caused by them. Again, words heard +or read enable you to act with reference to the matters about which they +give information; here, again, a present sensible stimulus, in virtue of +habits formed in the past, enables you to act in a manner appropriate +to an object which is not sensibly present. The whole essence of the +practical efficiency of "thought" consists in sensitiveness to signs: +the sensible presence of A, which is a sign of the present or future +existence of B, enables us to act in a manner appropriate to B. Of +this, words are the supreme example, since their effects as signs are +prodigious, while their intrinsic interest as sensible occurrences on +their own account is usually very slight. The operation of signs may or +may not be accompanied by consciousness. If a sensible stimulus A calls +up an image of B, and we then act with reference to B, we have what may +be called consciousness of B. But habit may enable us to act in a manner +appropriate to B as soon as A appears, without ever having an image of +B. In that case, although A operates as a sign, it operates without the +help of consciousness. Broadly speaking, a very familiar sign tends to +operate directly in this manner, and the intervention of consciousness +marks an imperfectly established habit. + +The power of acquiring experience, which characterizes men and animals, +is an example of the general law that, in mnemic causation, the causal +unit is not one event at one time, but two or more events at two or more +times.& A burnt child fears the fire, that is to say, the neighbourhood +of fire has a different effect upon a child which has had the sensations +of burning than upon one which has not. More correctly, the observed +effect, when a child which has been burnt is put near a fire, has for +its cause, not merely the neighbourhood of the fire, but this together +with the previous burning. The general formula, when an animal has +acquired experience through some event A, is that, when B occurs at some +future time, the animal to which A has happened acts differently from +an animal which A has not happened. Thus A and B together, not either +separately, must be regarded as the cause of the animal's behaviour, +unless we take account of the effect which A has had in altering the +animal's nervous tissue, which is a matter not patent to external +observation except under very special circumstances. With this +possibility, we are brought back to causal laws, and to the suggestion +that many things which seem essentially mental are really neural. +Perhaps it is the nerves that acquire experience rather than the mind. +If so, the possibility of acquiring experience cannot be used to define +mind.* + + * Cf. Lecture IV. + +Very similar considerations apply to memory, if taken as the essence of +mind. A recollection is aroused by something which is happening now, +but is different from the effect which the present occurrence would +have produced if the recollected event had not occurred. This may be +accounted for by the physical effect of the past event on the brain, +making it a different instrument from that which would have resulted +from a different experience. The causal peculiarities of memory may, +therefore, have a physiological explanation. With every special class of +mental phenomena this possibility meets us afresh. If psychology is +to be a separate science at all, we must seek a wider ground for its +separateness than any that we have been considering hitherto. + +We have found that "consciousness" is too narrow to characterize mental +phenomena, and that mnemic causation is too wide. I come now to a +characteristic which, though difficult to define, comes much nearer to +what we require, namely subjectivity. + +Subjectivity, as a characteristic of mental phenomena, was considered in +Lecture VII, in connection with the definition of perception. We there +decided that those particulars which constitute the physical world can +be collected into sets in two ways, one of which makes a bundle of all +those particulars that are appearances of a given thing from different +places, while the other makes a bundle of all those particulars which +are appearances of different things from a given place. A bundle of +this latter sort, at a given time, is called a "perspective"; taken +throughout a period of time, it is called a "biography." Subjectivity is +the characteristic of perspectives and biographies, the characteristic +of giving the view of the world from a certain place. We saw in Lecture +VII that this characteristic involves none of the other characteristics +that are commonly associated with mental phenomena, such as +consciousness, experience and memory. We found in fact that it is +exhibited by a photographic plate, and, strictly speaking, by any +particular taken in conjunction with those which have the same "passive" +place in the sense defined in Lecture VII. The particulars forming one +perspective are connected together primarily by simultaneity; +those forming one biography, primarily by the existence of direct +time-relations between them. To these are to be added relations +derivable from the laws of perspective. In all this we are clearly not +in the region of psychology, as commonly understood; yet we are also +hardly in the region of physics. And the definition of perspectives +and biographies, though it does not yet yield anything that would +be commonly called "mental," is presupposed in mental phenomena, for +example in mnemic causation: the causal unit in mnemic causation, which +gives rise to Semon's engram, is the whole of one perspective--not of +any perspective, but of a perspective in a place where there is nervous +tissue, or at any rate living tissue of some sort. Perception also, +as we saw, can only be defined in terms of perspectives. Thus the +conception of subjectivity, i.e. of the "passive" place of a particular, +though not alone sufficient to define mind, is clearly an essential +element in the definition. + +I have maintained throughout these lectures that the data of psychology +do not differ in, their intrinsic character from the data of physics. +I have maintained that sensations are data for psychology and +physics equally, while images, which may be in some sense exclusively +psychological data, can only be distinguished from sensations by their +correlations, not by what they are in themselves. It is now necessary, +however, to examine the notion of a "datum," and to obtain, if possible, +a definition of this notion. + +The notion of "data" is familiar throughout science, and is usually +treated by men of science as though it were perfectly clear. +Psychologists, on the other hand, find great difficulty in the +conception. "Data" are naturally defined in terms of theory of +knowledge: they are those propositions of which the truth is known +without demonstration, so that they may be used as premisses in proving +other propositions. Further, when a proposition which is a datum asserts +the existence of something, we say that the something is a datum, as +well as the proposition asserting its existence. Thus those objects +of whose existence we become certain through perception are said to be +data. + +There is some difficulty in connecting this epistemological definition +of "data" with our psychological analysis of knowledge; but until such +a connection has been effected, we have no right to use the conception +"data." + +It is clear, in the first place, that there can be no datum apart from a +belief. A sensation which merely comes and goes is not a datum; it only +becomes a datum when it is remembered. Similarly, in perception, we do +not have a datum unless we have a JUDGMENT of perception. In the sense +in which objects (as opposed to propositions) are data, it would seem +natural to say that those objects of which we are conscious are data. +But consciousness, as we have seen, is a complex notion, involving +beliefs, as well as mnemic phenomena such as are required for perception +and memory. It follows that no datum is theoretically indubitable, since +no belief is infallible; it follows also that every datum has a greater +or less degree of vagueness, since there is always some vagueness in +memory and the meaning of images. + +Data are not those things of which our consciousness is earliest in +time. At every period of life, after we have become capable of thought, +some of our beliefs are obtained by inference, while others are not. +A belief may pass from either of these classes into the other, and may +therefore become, or cease to be, a belief giving a datum. When, in what +follows, I speak of data, I do not mean the things of which we feel sure +before scientific study begins, but the things which, when a science +is well advanced, appear as affording grounds for other parts of +the science, without themselves being believed on any ground except +observation. I assume, that is to say, a trained observer, with an +analytic attention, knowing the sort of thing to look for, and the sort +of thing that will be important. What he observes is, at the stage of +science which he has reached, a datum for his science. It is just as +sophisticated and elaborate as the theories which he bases upon it, +since only trained habits and much practice enable a man to make +the kind of observation that will be scientifically illuminating. +Nevertheless, when once it has been observed, belief in it is not based +on inference and reasoning, but merely upon its having been seen. In +this way its logical status differs from that of the theories which are +proved by its means. + +In any science other than psychology the datum is primarily a +perception, in which only the sensational core is ultimately and +theoretically a datum, though some such accretions as turn the sensation +into a perception are practically unavoidable. But if we postulate an +ideal observer, he will be able to isolate the sensation, and treat this +alone as datum. There is, therefore, an important sense in which we +may say that, if we analyse as much as we ought, our data, outside +psychology, consist of sensations, which include within themselves +certain spatial and temporal relations. + +Applying this remark to physiology, we see that the nerves and brain +as physical objects are not truly data; they are to be replaced, in +the ideal structure of science, by the sensations through which the +physiologist is said to perceive them. The passage from these sensations +to nerves and brain as physical objects belongs really to the initial +stage in the theory of physics, and ought to be placed in the reasoned +part, not in the part supposed to be observed. To say we see the +nerves is like saying we hear the nightingale; both are convenient but +inaccurate expressions. We hear a sound which we believe to be causally +connected with the nightingale, and we see a sight which we believe +to be causally connected with a nerve. But in each case it is only +the sensation that ought, in strictness, to be called a datum. Now, +sensations are certainly among the data of psychology. Therefore all the +data of the physical sciences are also psychological data. It remains +to inquire whether all the data of psychology are also data of physical +science, and especially of physiology. + +If we have been right in our analysis of mind, the ultimate data of +psychology are only sensations and images and their relations. Beliefs, +desires, volitions, and so on, appeared to us to be complex phenomena +consisting of sensations and images variously interrelated. Thus (apart +from certain relations) the occurrences which seem most distinctively +mental, and furthest removed from physics, are, like physical objects, +constructed or inferred, not part of the original stock of data in the +perfected science. From both ends, therefore, the difference between +physical and psychological data is diminished. Is there ultimately +no difference, or do images remain as irreducibly and exclusively +psychological? In view of the causal definition of the difference +between images and sensations, this brings us to a new question, namely: +Are the causal laws of psychology different from those of any other +science, or are they really physiological? + +Certain ambiguities must be removed before this question can be +adequately discussed. + +First, there is the distinction between rough approximate laws and +such as appear to be precise and general. I shall return to the former +presently; it is the latter that I wish to discuss now. + +Matter, as defined at the end of Lecture V, is a logical fiction, +invented because it gives a convenient way of stating causal laws. +Except in cases of perfect regularity in appearances (of which we can +have no experience), the actual appearances of a piece of matter are not +members of that ideal system of regular appearances which is defined +as being the matter in question. But the matter is, after all, inferred +from its appearances, which are used to VERIFY physical laws. Thus, in +so far as physics is an empirical and verifiable science, it must assume +or prove that the inference from appearances to matter is, in general, +legitimate, and it must be able to tell us, more or less, what +appearances to expect. It is through this question of verifiability and +empirical applicability to experience that we are led to a theory of +matter such as I advocate. From the consideration of this question it +results that physics, in so far as it is an empirical science, not a +logical phantasy, is concerned with particulars of just the same sort +as those which psychology considers under the name of sensations. The +causal laws of physics, so interpreted, differ from those of psychology +only by the fact that they connect a particular with other appearances +in the same piece of matter, rather than with other appearances in the +same perspective. That is to say, they group together particulars having +the same "active" place, while psychology groups together those having +the same "passive" place. Some particulars, such as images, have no +"active" place, and therefore belong exclusively to psychology. + +We can now understand the distinction between physics and psychology. +The nerves and brain are matter: our visual sensations when we look +at them may be, and I think are, members of the system constituting +irregular appearances of this matter, but are not the whole of the +system. Psychology is concerned, inter alia, with our sensations when we +see a piece of matter, as opposed to the matter which we see. Assuming, +as we must, that our sensations have physical causes, their causal laws +are nevertheless radically different from the laws of physics, since +the consideration of a single sensation requires the breaking up of +the group of which it is a member. When a sensation is used to verify +physics, it is used merely as a sign of a certain material phenomenon, +i.e. of a group of particulars of which it is a member. But when it is +studied by psychology, it is taken away from that group and put +into quite a different context, where it causes images or voluntary +movements. It is primarily this different grouping that is +characteristic of psychology as opposed to all the physical sciences, +including physiology; a secondary difference is that images, which +belong to psychology, are not easily to be included among the aspects +which constitute a physical thing or piece of matter. + +There remains, however, an important question, namely: Are mental events +causally dependent upon physical events in a sense in which the converse +dependence does not hold? Before we can discuss the answer to this +question, we must first be clear as to what our question means. + +When, given A, it is possible to infer B, but given B, it is not +possible to infer A, we say that B is dependent upon A in a sense in +which A is not dependent upon B. Stated in logical terms, this amounts +to saying that, when we know a many-one relation of A to B, B is +dependent upon A in respect of this relation. If the relation is a +causal law, we say that B is causally dependent upon A. The illustration +that chiefly concerns us is the system of appearances of a physical +object. We can, broadly speaking, infer distant appearances from near +ones, but not vice versa. All men look alike when they are a mile away, +hence when we see a man a mile off we cannot tell what he will look like +when he is only a yard away. But when we see him a yard away, we can +tell what he will look like a mile away. Thus the nearer view gives us +more valuable information, and the distant view is causally dependent +upon it in a sense in which it is not causally dependent upon the +distant view. + +It is this greater causal potency of the near appearance that leads +physics to state its causal laws in terms of that system of regular +appearances to which the nearest appearances increasingly approximate, +and that makes it value information derived from the microscope or +telescope. It is clear that our sensations, considered as irregular +appearances of physical objects, share the causal dependence belonging +to comparatively distant appearances; therefore in our sensational life +we are in causal dependence upon physical laws. + +This, however, is not the most important or interesting part of our +question. It is the causation of images that is the vital problem. We +have seen that they are subject to mnenic causation, and that mnenic +causation may be reducible to ordinary physical causation in nervous +tissue. This is the question upon which our attitude must turn towards +what may be called materialism. One sense of materialism is the view +that all mental phenomena are causally dependent upon physical phenomena +in the above-defined sense of causal dependence. Whether this is the +case or not, I do not profess to know. The question seems to me the +same as the question whether mnemic causation is ultimate, which we +considered without deciding in Lecture IV. But I think the bulk of the +evidence points to the materialistic answer as the more probable. + +In considering the causal laws of psychology, the distinction between +rough generalizations and exact laws is important. There are many rough +generalizations in psychology, not only of the sort by which we +govern our ordinary behaviour to each other, but also of a more nearly +scientific kind. Habit and association belong among such laws. I will +give an illustration of the kind of law that can be obtained. Suppose a +person has frequently experienced A and B in close temporal contiguity, +an association will be established, so that A, or an image of A, tends +to cause an image of B. The question arises: will the association work +in either direction, or only from the one which has occurred earlier +to the one which has occurred later? In an article by Mr. Wohlgemuth, +called "The Direction of Associations" ("British Journal of Psychology," +vol. v, part iv, March, 1913), it is claimed to be proved by experiment +that, in so far as motor memory (i.e. memory of movements) is concerned, +association works only from earlier to later, while in visual and +auditory memory this is not the case, but the later of two neighbouring +experiences may recall the earlier as well as the earlier the later. +It is suggested that motor memory is physiological, while visual and +auditory memory are more truly psychological. But that is not the point +which concerns us in the illustration. The point which concerns us +is that a law of association, established by purely psychological +observation, is a purely psychological law, and may serve as a sample +of what is possible in the way of discovering such laws. It is, however, +still no more than a rough generalization, a statistical average. It +cannot tell us what will result from a given cause on a given occasion. +It is a law of tendency, not a precise and invariable law such as those +of physics aim at being. + +If we wish to pass from the law of habit, stated as a tendency or +average, to something more precise and invariable, we seem driven to the +nervous system. We can more or less guess how an occurrence produces a +change in the brain, and how its repetition gradually produces something +analogous to the channel of a river, along which currents flow more +easily than in neighbouring paths. We can perceive that in this way, if +we had more knowledge, the tendency to habit through repetition might +be replaced by a precise account of the effect of each occurrence +in bringing about a modification of the sort from which habit would +ultimately result. It is such considerations that make students of +psychophysiology materialistic in their methods, whatever they may be in +their metaphysics. There are, of course, exceptions, such as Professor +J. S. Haldane,* who maintains that it is theoretically impossible to +obtain physiological explanations of psychical phenomena, or physical +explanations of physiological phenomena. But I think the bulk of expert +opinion, in practice, is on the other side. + + *See his book, "The New Physiology and Other Addresses" + (Charles Griffin & Co., 1919). + +The question whether it is possible to obtain precise causal laws in +which the causes are psychological, not material, is one of detailed +investigation. I have done what I could to make clear the nature of the +question, but I do not believe that it is possible as yet to answer it +with any confidence. It seems to be by no means an insoluble question, +and we may hope that science will be able to produce sufficient grounds +for regarding one answer as much more probable than the other. But for +the moment I do not see how we can come to a decision. + +I think, however, on grounds of the theory of matter explained in +Lectures V and VII, that an ultimate scientific account of what goes on +in the world, if it were ascertainable, would resemble psychology rather +than physics in what we found to be the decisive difference between +them. I think, that is to say, that such an account would not be content +to speak, even formally, as though matter, which is a logical fiction, +were the ultimate reality. I think that, if our scientific knowledge +were adequate to the task, which it neither is nor is likely to become, +it would exhibit the laws of correlation of the particulars constituting +a momentary condition of a material unit, and would state the causal +laws* of the world in terms of these particulars, not in terms of +matter. Causal laws so stated would, I believe, be applicable to +psychology and physics equally; the science in which they were stated +would succeed in achieving what metaphysics has vainly attempted, namely +a unified account of what really happens, wholly true even if not the +whole of truth, and free from all convenient fictions or unwarrantable +assumptions of metaphysical entities. A causal law applicable to +particulars would count as a law of physics if it could be stated in +terms of those fictitious systems of regular appearances which are +matter; if this were not the case, it would count as a law of psychology +if one of the particulars were a sensation or an image, i.e. were +subject to mnemic causation. I believe that the realization of the +complexity of a material unit, and its analysis into constituents +analogous to sensations, is of the utmost importance to philosophy, and +vital for any understanding of the relations between mind and matter, +between our perceptions and the world which they perceive. It is in this +direction, I am convinced, that we must look for the solution of many +ancient perplexities. + + * In a perfected science, causal laws will take the form of + differential equations--or of finite-difference equations, + if the theory of quanta should prove correct. + +It is probable that the whole science of mental occurrences, especially +where its initial definitions are concerned, could be simplified by the +development of the fundamental unifying science in which the causal laws +of particulars are sought, rather than the causal laws of those systems +of particulars that constitute the material units of physics. This +fundamental science would cause physics to become derivative, in the +sort of way in which theories of the constitution of the atom make +chemistry derivative from physics; it would also cause psychology to +appear less singular and isolated among sciences. If we are right in +this, it is a wrong philosophy of matter which has caused many of the +difficulties in the philosophy of mind--difficulties which a right +philosophy of matter would cause to disappear. + +The conclusions at which we have arrived may be summed up as follows: + +I. Physics and psychology are not distinguished by their material. Mind +and matter alike are logical constructions; the particulars out of which +they are constructed, or from which they are inferred, have various +relations, some of which are studied by physics, others by psychology. +Broadly speaking, physics group particulars by their active places, +psychology by their passive places. + +II. The two most essential characteristics of the causal laws which +would naturally be called psychological are SUBJECTIVITY and MNEMIC +CAUSATION; these are not unconnected, since the causal unit in mnemic +causation is the group of particulars having a given passive place at +a given time, and it is by this manner of grouping that subjectivity is +defined. + +III. Habit, memory and thought are all developments of mnemic causation. +It is probable, though not certain, that mnemic causation is derivative +from ordinary physical causation in nervous (and other) tissue. + +IV. Consciousness is a complex and far from universal characteristic of +mental phenomena. + +V. Mind is a matter of degree, chiefly exemplified in number and +complexity of habits. + +VI. All our data, both in physics and psychology, are subject to +psychological causal laws; but physical causal laws, at least in +traditional physics, can only be stated in terms of matter, which is +both inferred and constructed, never a datum. In this respect psychology +is nearer to what actually exists. + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Analysis of Mind, by Bertrand Russell + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ANALYSIS OF MIND *** + +***** This file should be named 2529.txt or 2529.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/5/2/2529/ + +Produced by Dianne Bean + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +http://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at http://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit http://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/2529.zip b/2529.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..9cceac1 --- /dev/null +++ b/2529.zip diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..fef040f --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #2529 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/2529) diff --git a/old/analmd10.txt b/old/analmd10.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..b3c4d6c --- /dev/null +++ b/old/analmd10.txt @@ -0,0 +1,9663 @@ +The Project Gutenberg Etext of The Analysis of Mind by Bertrand +Russell + + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world, be sure to check +the copyright laws for your country before posting these files!! + +Please take a look at the important information in this header. +We encourage you to keep this file on your own disk, keeping an +electronic path open for the next readers. Do not remove this. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**Etexts Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*These Etexts Prepared By Hundreds of Volunteers and Donations* + +Information on contacting Project Gutenberg to get Etexts, and +further information is included below. We need your donations. + + +The Analysis of Mind + +by Bertrand Russell + +February, 2001 [Etext #2529] + + +The Project Gutenberg Etext of The Analysis of Mind by Bertrand Russell +******This file should be named anlmd10.txt or anlmd10.zip****** + +Corrected EDITIONS of our etexts get a new NUMBER, anlmd11.txt +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, anlmd10a.txt + + +Scanned by Dianne Bean, Prescott Valley, Arizona. + +Project Gutenberg Etexts are usually created from multiple editions, +all of which are in the Public Domain in the United States, unless a +copyright notice is included. Therefore, we usually do NOT keep any +of these books in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +We are now trying to release all our books one month in advance +of the official release dates, leaving time for better editing. + +Please note: neither this list nor its contents are final till +midnight of the last day of the month of any such announcement. +The official release date of all Project Gutenberg Etexts is at +Midnight, Central Time, of the last day of the stated month. A +preliminary version may often be posted for suggestion, comment +and editing by those who wish to do so. To be sure you have an +up to date first edition [xxxxx10x.xxx] please check file sizes +in the first week of the next month. Since our ftp program has +a bug in it that scrambles the date [tried to fix and failed] a +look at the file size will have to do, but we will try to see a +new copy has at least one byte more or less. + + +Information about Project Gutenberg (one page) + +We produce about two million dollars for each hour we work. The +time it takes us, a rather conservative estimate, is fifty hours +to get any etext selected, entered, proofread, edited, copyright +searched and analyzed, the copyright letters written, etc. This +projected audience is one hundred million readers. If our value +per text is nominally estimated at one dollar then we produce $2 +million dollars per hour this year as we release thirty-six text +files per month, or 432 more Etexts in 1999 for a total of 2000+ +If these reach just 10% of the computerized population, then the +total should reach over 200 billion Etexts given away this year. + +The Goal of Project Gutenberg is to Give Away One Trillion Etext +Files by December 31, 2001. [10,000 x 100,000,000 = 1 Trillion] +This is ten thousand titles each to one hundred million readers, +which is only ~5% of the present number of computer users. + +At our revised rates of production, we will reach only one-third +of that goal by the end of 2001, or about 3,333 Etexts unless we +manage to get some real funding; currently our funding is mostly +from Michael Hart's salary at Carnegie-Mellon University, and an +assortment of sporadic gifts; this salary is only good for a few +more years, so we are looking for something to replace it, as we +don't want Project Gutenberg to be so dependent on one person. + +We need your donations more than ever! + + +All donations should be made to "Project Gutenberg/CMU": and are +tax deductible to the extent allowable by law. (CMU = Carnegie- +Mellon University). + +For these and other matters, please mail to: + +Project Gutenberg +P. O. Box 2782 +Champaign, IL 61825 + +When all other email fails. . .try our Executive Director: +Michael S. Hart <hart@pobox.com> +hart@pobox.com forwards to hart@prairienet.org and archive.org +if your mail bounces from archive.org, I will still see it, if +it bounces from prairienet.org, better resend later on. . . . + +We would prefer to send you this information by email. + +****** + +To access Project Gutenberg etexts, use any Web browser +to view http://promo.net/pg. This site lists Etexts by +author and by title, and includes information about how +to get involved with Project Gutenberg. You could also +download our past Newsletters, or subscribe here. This +is one of our major sites, please email hart@pobox.com, +for a more complete list of our various sites. + +To go directly to the etext collections, use FTP or any +Web browser to visit a Project Gutenberg mirror (mirror +sites are available on 7 continents; mirrors are listed +at http://promo.net/pg). + +Mac users, do NOT point and click, typing works better. + +Example FTP session: + +ftp metalab.unc.edu +login: anonymous +password: your@login +cd pub/docs/books/gutenberg +cd etext90 through etext99 etext00 and etext01 +dir [to see files] +get or mget [to get files. . .set bin for zip files] +GET GUTINDEX.?? [to get a year's listing of books, e.g., GUTINDEX.99] +GET GUTINDEX.ALL [to get a listing of ALL books] + +*** + +**Information prepared by the Project Gutenberg legal advisor** + +(Three Pages) + + +***START**THE SMALL PRINT!**FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS**START*** +Why is this "Small Print!" statement here? You know: lawyers. +They tell us you might sue us if there is something wrong with +your copy of this etext, even if you got it for free from +someone other than us, and even if what's wrong is not our +fault. So, among other things, this "Small Print!" statement +disclaims most of our liability to you. It also tells you how +you can distribute copies of this etext if you want to. + +*BEFORE!* YOU USE OR READ THIS ETEXT +By using or reading any part of this PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm +etext, you indicate that you understand, agree to and accept +this "Small Print!" statement. If you do not, you can receive +a refund of the money (if any) you paid for this etext by +sending a request within 30 days of receiving it to the person +you got it from. If you received this etext on a physical +medium (such as a disk), you must return it with your request. + +ABOUT PROJECT GUTENBERG-TM ETEXTS +This PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm etext, like most PROJECT GUTENBERG- +tm etexts, is a "public domain" work distributed by Professor +Michael S. Hart through the Project Gutenberg Association at +Carnegie-Mellon University (the "Project"). Among other +things, this means that no one owns a United States copyright +on or for this work, so the Project (and you!) can copy and +distribute it in the United States without permission and +without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set forth +below, apply if you wish to copy and distribute this etext +under the Project's "PROJECT GUTENBERG" trademark. + +To create these etexts, the Project expends considerable +efforts to identify, transcribe and proofread public domain +works. Despite these efforts, the Project's etexts and any +medium they may be on may contain "Defects". Among other +things, Defects may take the form of incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other +intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged +disk or other etext medium, a computer virus, or computer +codes that damage or cannot be read by your equipment. + +LIMITED WARRANTY; DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES +But for the "Right of Replacement or Refund" described below, +[1] the Project (and any other party you may receive this +etext from as a PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm etext) disclaims all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including +legal fees, and [2] YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE OR +UNDER STRICT LIABILITY, OR FOR BREACH OF WARRANTY OR CONTRACT, +INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE +OR INCIDENTAL DAMAGES, EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE +POSSIBILITY OF SUCH DAMAGES. + +If you discover a Defect in this etext within 90 days of +receiving it, you can receive a refund of the money (if any) +you paid for it by sending an explanatory note within that +time to the person you received it from. If you received it +on a physical medium, you must return it with your note, and +such person may choose to alternatively give you a replacement +copy. If you received it electronically, such person may +choose to alternatively give you a second opportunity to +receive it electronically. + +THIS ETEXT IS OTHERWISE PROVIDED TO YOU "AS-IS". NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, ARE MADE TO YOU AS +TO THE ETEXT OR ANY MEDIUM IT MAY BE ON, INCLUDING BUT NOT +LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR A +PARTICULAR PURPOSE. + +Some states do not allow disclaimers of implied warranties or +the exclusion or limitation of consequential damages, so the +above disclaimers and exclusions may not apply to you, and you +may have other legal rights. + +INDEMNITY +You will indemnify and hold the Project, its directors, +officers, members and agents harmless from all liability, cost +and expense, including legal fees, that arise directly or +indirectly from any of the following that you do or cause: +[1] distribution of this etext, [2] alteration, modification, +or addition to the etext, or [3] any Defect. + +DISTRIBUTION UNDER "PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm" +You may distribute copies of this etext electronically, or by +disk, book or any other medium if you either delete this +"Small Print!" and all other references to Project Gutenberg, +or: + +[1] Only give exact copies of it. Among other things, this + requires that you do not remove, alter or modify the + etext or this "small print!" statement. You may however, + if you wish, distribute this etext in machine readable + binary, compressed, mark-up, or proprietary form, + including any form resulting from conversion by word pro- + cessing or hypertext software, but only so long as + *EITHER*: + + [*] The etext, when displayed, is clearly readable, and + does *not* contain characters other than those + intended by the author of the work, although tilde + (~), asterisk (*) and underline (_) characters may + be used to convey punctuation intended by the + author, and additional characters may be used to + indicate hypertext links; OR + + [*] The etext may be readily converted by the reader at + no expense into plain ASCII, EBCDIC or equivalent + form by the program that displays the etext (as is + the case, for instance, with most word processors); + OR + + [*] You provide, or agree to also provide on request at + no additional cost, fee or expense, a copy of the + etext in its original plain ASCII form (or in EBCDIC + or other equivalent proprietary form). + +[2] Honor the etext refund and replacement provisions of this + "Small Print!" statement. + +[3] Pay a trademark license fee to the Project of 20% of the + net profits you derive calculated using the method you + already use to calculate your applicable taxes. If you + don't derive profits, no royalty is due. Royalties are + payable to "Project Gutenberg Association/Carnegie-Mellon + University" within the 60 days following each + date you prepare (or were legally required to prepare) + your annual (or equivalent periodic) tax return. + +WHAT IF YOU *WANT* TO SEND MONEY EVEN IF YOU DON'T HAVE TO? +The Project gratefully accepts contributions in money, time, +scanning machines, OCR software, public domain etexts, royalty +free copyright licenses, and every other sort of contribution +you can think of. Money should be paid to "Project Gutenberg +Association / Carnegie-Mellon University". + +We are planning on making some changes in our donation structure +in 2000, so you might want to email me, hart@pobox.com beforehand. + + + + +*END THE SMALL PRINT! FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.04.29.93*END* + + + + + +THE ANALYSIS OF MIND + +by + +BERTRAND RUSSELL + +1921 + +MUIRHEAD LIBRARY OF PHILOSOPHY + +An admirable statement of the aims of the Library of Philosophy +was provided by the first editor, the late Professor J. H. +Muirhead, in his description of the original programme printed in +Erdmann's History of Philosophy under the date 1890. This was +slightly modified in subsequent volumes to take the form of the +following statement: + +"The Muirhead Library of Philosophy was designed as a +contribution to the History of Modern Philosophy under the heads: +first of Different Schools of Thought--Sensationalist, Realist, +Idealist, Intuitivist; secondly of different +Subjects--Psychology, Ethics, Aesthetics, Political Philosophy, +Theology. While much had been done in England in tracing the +course of evolution in nature, history, economics, morals and +religion, little had been done in tracing the development of +thought on these subjects. Yet 'the evolution of opinion is part +of the whole evolution'. + +"By the co-operation of different writers in carrying out this +plan it was hoped that a thoroughness and completeness of +treatment, otherwise unattainable, might be secured. It was +believed also that from writers mainly British and American +fuller consideration of English Philosophy than it had hitherto +received might be looked for. In the earlier series of books +containing, among others, Bosanquet's "History of Aesthetic," +Pfleiderer's "Rational Theology since Kant," Albee's "History of +English Utilitarianism," Bonar's "Philosophy and Political +Economy," Brett's "History of Psychology," Ritchie's "Natural +Rights," these objects were to a large extent effected. + +"In the meantime original work of a high order was being produced +both in England and America by such writers as Bradley, Stout, +Bertrand Russell, Baldwin, Urban, Montague, and others, and a new +interest in foreign works, German, French and Italian, which had +either become classical or were attracting public attention, had +developed. The scope of the Library thus became extended into +something more international, and it is entering on the fifth +decade of its existence in the hope that it may contribute to +that mutual understanding between countries which is so pressing +a need of the present time." + +The need which Professor Muirhead stressed is no less pressing +to-day, and few will deny that philosophy has much to do with +enabling us to meet it, although no one, least of all Muirhead +himself, would regard that as the sole, or even the main, object +of philosophy. As Professor Muirhead continues to lend the +distinction of his name to the Library of Philosophy it seemed +not inappropriate to allow him to recall us to these aims in his +own words. The emphasis on the history of thought also seemed to +me very timely; and the number of important works promised for +the Library in the very near future augur well for the continued +fulfilment, in this and other ways, of the expectations of the +original editor. + +H. D. Lewis + + + +PREFACE + +This book has grown out of an attempt to harmonize two different +tendencies, one in psychology, the other in physics, with both of +which I find myself in sympathy, although at first sight they +might seem inconsistent. On the one hand, many psychologists, +especially those of the behaviourist school, tend to adopt what +is essentially a materialistic position, as a matter of method if +not of metaphysics. They make psychology increasingly dependent +on physiology and external observation, and tend to think of +matter as something much more solid and indubitable than mind. +Meanwhile the physicists, especially Einstein and other exponents +of the theory of relativity, have been making "matter" less and +less material. Their world consists of "events," from which +"matter" is derived by a logical construction. Whoever reads, for +example, Professor Eddington's "Space, Time and Gravitation" +(Cambridge University Press, 1920), will see that an +old-fashioned materialism can receive no support from modern +physics. I think that what has permanent value in the outlook of +the behaviourists is the feeling that physics is the most +fundamental science at present in existence. But this position +cannot be called materialistic, if, as seems to be the case, +physics does not assume the existence of matter. + +The view that seems to me to reconcile the materialistic tendency +of psychology with the anti-materialistic tendency of physics is +the view of William James and the American new realists, +according to which the "stuff" of the world is neither mental nor +material, but a "neutral stuff," out of which both are +constructed. I have endeavoured in this work to develop this view +in some detail as regards the phenomena with which psychology is +concerned. + +My thanks are due to Professor John B. Watson and to Dr. T. P. +Nunn for reading my MSS. at an early stage and helping me with +many valuable suggestions; also to Mr. A. Wohlgemuth for much +very useful information as regards important literature. I have +also to acknowledge the help of the editor of this Library of +Philosophy, Professor Muirhead, for several suggestions by which +I have profited. + +The work has been given in the form of lectures both in London +and Peking, and one lecture, that on Desire, has been published +in the Athenaeum. + +There are a few allusions to China in this book, all of which +were written before I had been in China, and are not intended to +be taken by the reader as geographically accurate. I have used +"China" merely as a synonym for "a distant country," when I +wanted illustrations of unfamiliar things. + +Peking, January 1921. + + + +CONTENTS + +I. Recent Criticisms of "Consciousness" II. Instinct and Habit +III. Desire and Feeling IV. Influence of Past History on Present +Occurrences in Living Organisms V. Psychological and +Physical Causal Laws VI. Introspection VII. The Definition of +Perception VIII.Sensations and Images IX. Memory X. Words and +Meaning XI. General Ideas and Thought XII. Belief XIII.Truth and +Falsehood XIV. Emotions and Will XV. Characteristics of Mental +Phenomena + + + +THE ANALYSIS OF MIND + + +LECTURE I. RECENT CRITICISMS OF "CONSCIOUSNESS" + +There are certain occurrences which we are in the habit of +calling "mental." Among these we may take as typical BELIEVING +and DESIRING. The exact definition of the word "mental" will, I +hope, emerge as the lectures proceed; for the present, I shall +mean by it whatever occurrences would commonly be called mental. + +I wish in these lectures to analyse as fully as I can what it is +that really takes place when we, e.g. believe or desire. In this +first lecture I shall be concerned to refute a theory which is +widely held, and which I formerly held myself: the theory that +the essence of everything mental is a certain quite peculiar +something called "consciousness," conceived either as a relation +to objects, or as a pervading quality of psychical phenomena. + +The reasons which I shall give against this theory will be mainly +derived from previous authors. There are two sorts of reasons, +which will divide my lecture into two parts + +(1) Direct reasons, derived from analysis and its difficulties; + +(2) Indirect reasons, derived from observation of animals +(comparative psychology) and of the insane and hysterical +(psycho-analysis). + +Few things are more firmly established in popular philosophy than +the distinction between mind and matter. Those who are not +professional metaphysicians are willing to confess that they do +not know what mind actually is, or how matter is constituted; but +they remain convinced that there is an impassable gulf between +the two, and that both belong to what actually exists in the +world. Philosophers, on the other hand, have maintained often +that matter is a mere fiction imagined by mind, and sometimes +that mind is a mere property of a certain kind of matter. Those +who maintain that mind is the reality and matter an evil dream +are called "idealists"--a word which has a different meaning in +philosophy from that which it bears in ordinary life. Those who +argue that matter is the reality and mind a mere property of +protoplasm are called "materialists." They have been rare among +philosophers, but common, at certain periods, among men of +science. Idealists, materialists, and ordinary mortals have been +in agreement on one point: that they knew sufficiently what they +meant by the words "mind" and "matter" to be able to conduct +their debate intelligently. Yet it was just in this point, as to +which they were at one, that they seem to me to have been all +alike in error. + +The stuff of which the world of our experience is composed is, in +my belief, neither mind nor matter, but something more primitive +than either. Both mind and matter seem to be composite, and the +stuff of which they are compounded lies in a sense between the +two, in a sense above them both, like a common ancestor. As +regards matter, I have set forth my reasons for this view on +former occasions,* and I shall not now repeat them. But the +question of mind is more difficult, and it is this question that +I propose to discuss in these lectures. A great deal of what I +shall have to say is not original; indeed, much recent work, in +various fields, has tended to show the necessity of such theories +as those which I shall be advocating. Accordingly in this first +lecture I shall try to give a brief description of the systems of +ideas within which our investigation is to be carried on. + +* "Our Knowledge of the External World" (Allen & Unwin), Chapters +III and IV. Also "Mysticism and Logic," Essays VII and VIII. + + +If there is one thing that may be said, in the popular +estimation, to characterize mind, that one thing is +"consciousness." We say that we are "conscious" of what we see +and hear, of what we remember, and of our own thoughts and +feelings. Most of us believe that tables and chairs are not +"conscious." We think that when we sit in a chair, we are aware +of sitting in it, but it is not aware of being sat in. It cannot +for a moment be doubted that we are right in believing that there +is SOME difference between us and the chair in this respect: so +much may be taken as fact, and as a datum for our inquiry. But as +soon as we try to say what exactly the difference is, we become +involved in perplexities. Is "consciousness" ultimate and simple, +something to be merely accepted and contemplated? Or is it +something complex, perhaps consisting in our way of behaving in +the presence of objects, or, alternatively, in the existence in +us of things called "ideas," having a certain relation to +objects, though different from them, and only symbolically +representative of them? Such questions are not easy to answer; +but until they are answered we cannot profess to know what we +mean by saying that we are possessed of "consciousness." + +Before considering modern theories, let us look first at +consciousness from the standpoint of conventional psychology, +since this embodies views which naturally occur when we begin to +reflect upon the subject. For this purpose, let us as a +preliminary consider different ways of being conscious. + +First, there is the way of PERCEPTION. We "perceive" tables and +chairs, horses and dogs, our friends, traffic passing in the +street--in short, anything which we recognize through the senses. +I leave on one side for the present the question whether pure +sensation is to be regarded as a form of consciousness: what I am +speaking of now is perception, where, according to conventional +psychology, we go beyond the sensation to the "thing" which it +represents. When you hear a donkey bray, you not only hear a +noise, but realize that it comes from a donkey. When you see a +table, you not only see a coloured surface, but realize that it +is hard. The addition of these elements that go beyond crude +sensation is said to constitute perception. We shall have more to +say about this at a later stage. For the moment, I am merely +concerned to note that perception of objects is one of the most +obvious examples of what is called "consciousness." We are +"conscious" of anything that we perceive. + +We may take next the way of MEMORY. If I set to work to recall +what I did this morning, that is a form of consciousness +different from perception, since it is concerned with the past. +There are various problems as to how we can be conscious now of +what no longer exists. These will be dealt with incidentally when +we come to the analysis of memory. + +From memory it is an easy step to what are called "ideas"--not in +the Platonic sense, but in that of Locke, Berkeley and Hume, in +which they are opposed to "impressions." You may be conscious of +a friend either by seeing him or by "thinking" of him; and by +"thought" you can be conscious of objects which cannot be seen, +such as the human race, or physiology. "Thought" in the narrower +sense is that form of consciousness which consists in "ideas" as +opposed to impressions or mere memories. + +We may end our preliminary catalogue with BELIEF, by which I mean +that way of being conscious which may be either true or false. We +say that a man is "conscious of looking a fool," by which we mean +that he believes he looks a fool, and is not mistaken in this +belief. This is a different form of consciousness from any of the +earlier ones. It is the form which gives "knowledge" in the +strict sense, and also error. It is, at least apparently, more +complex than our previous forms of consciousness; though we shall +find that they are not so separable from it as they might appear +to be. + +Besides ways of being conscious there are other things that would +ordinarily be called "mental," such as desire and pleasure and +pain. These raise problems of their own, which we shall reach in +Lecture III. But the hardest problems are those that arise +concerning ways of being "conscious." These ways, taken together, +are called the "cognitive" elements in mind, and it is these that +will occupy us most during the following lectures. + +There is one element which SEEMS obviously in common among the +different ways of being conscious, and that is, that they are all +directed to OBJECTS. We are conscious "of" something. The +consciousness, it seems, is one thing, and that of which we are +conscious is another thing. Unless we are to acquiesce in the +view that we can never be conscious of anything outside our own +minds, we must say that the object of consciousness need not be +mental, though the consciousness must be. (I am speaking within +the circle of conventional doctrines, not expressing my own +beliefs.) This direction towards an object is commonly regarded +as typical of every form of cognition, and sometimes of mental +life altogether. We may distinguish two different tendencies in +traditional psychology. There are those who take mental phenomena +naively, just as they would physical phenomena. This school of +psychologists tends not to emphasize the object. On the other +hand, there are those whose primary interest is in the apparent +fact that we have KNOWLEDGE, that there is a world surrounding us +of which we are aware. These men are interested in the mind +because of its relation to the world, because knowledge, if it is +a fact, is a very mysterious one. Their interest in psychology is +naturally centred in the relation of consciousness to its object, +a problem which, properly, belongs rather to theory of knowledge. +We may take as one of the best and most typical representatives +of this school the Austrian psychologist Brentano, whose +"Psychology from the Empirical Standpoint,"* though published in +1874, is still influential and was the starting-point of a great +deal of interesting work. He says (p. 115): + +* "Psychologie vom empirischen Standpunkte," vol. i, 1874. (The +second volume was never published.) + + +"Every psychical phenomenon is characterized by what the +scholastics of the Middle Ages called the intentional (also the +mental) inexistence of an object, and what we, although with not +quite unambiguous expressions, would call relation to a content, +direction towards an object (which is not here to be understood +as a reality), or immanent objectivity. Each contains something +in itself as an object, though not each in the same way. In +presentation something is presented, in judgment something is +acknowledged or rejected, in love something is loved, in hatred +hated, in desire desired, and so on. + +"This intentional inexistence is exclusively peculiar to +psychical phenomena. No physical phenomenon shows anything +similar. And so we can define psychical phenomena by saying that +they are phenomena which intentionally contain an object in +themselves." + +The view here expressed, that relation to an object is an +ultimate irreducible characteristic of mental phenomena, is one +which I shall be concerned to combat. Like Brentano, I am +interested in psychology, not so much for its own sake, as for +the light that it may throw on the problem of knowledge. Until +very lately I believed, as he did, that mental phenomena have +essential reference to objects, except possibly in the case of +pleasure and pain. Now I no longer believe this, even in the case +of knowledge. I shall try to make my reasons for this rejection +clear as we proceed. It must be evident at first glance that the +analysis of knowledge is rendered more difficult by the +rejection; but the apparent simplicity of Brentano's view of +knowledge will be found, if I am not mistaken, incapable of +maintaining itself either against an analytic scrutiny or against +a host of facts in psycho-analysis and animal psychology. I do +not wish to minimize the problems. I will merely observe, in +mitigation of our prospective labours, that thinking, however it +is to be analysed, is in itself a delightful occupation, and that +there is no enemy to thinking so deadly as a false simplicity. +Travelling, whether in the mental or the physical world, is a +joy, and it is good to know that, in the mental world at least, +there are vast countries still very imperfectly explored. + +The view expressed by Brentano has been held very generally, and +developed by many writers. Among these we may take as an example +his Austrian successor Meinong.* According to him there are three +elements involved in the thought of an object. These three he +calls the act, the content and the object. The act is the same in +any two cases of the same kind of consciousness; for instance, if +I think of Smith or think of Brown, the act of thinking, in +itself, is exactly similar on both occasions. But the content of +my thought, the particular event that is happening in my mind, is +different when I think of Smith and when I think of Brown. The +content, Meinong argues, must not be confounded with the object, +since the content must exist in my mind at the moment when I have +the thought, whereas the object need not do so. The object may be +something past or future; it may be physical, not mental; it may +be something abstract, like equality for example; it may be +something imaginary, like a golden mountain; or it may even be +something self-contradictory, like a round square. But in all +these cases, so he contends, the content exists when the thought +exists, and is what distinguishes it, as an occurrence, from +other thoughts. + +* See, e.g. his article: "Ueber Gegenstande hoherer Ordnung und +deren Verhaltniss zur inneren Wahrnehmung," "Zeitschrift fur +Psychologie and Physiologie der Sinnesorgane," vol. xxi, pp. +182-272 (1899), especially pp. 185-8. + + +To make this theory concrete, let us suppose that you are +thinking of St. Paul's. Then, according to Meinong, we have to +distinguish three elements which are necessarily combined in +constituting the one thought. First, there is the act of +thinking, which would be just the same whatever you were thinking +about. Then there is what makes the character of the thought as +contrasted with other thoughts; this is the content. And finally +there is St. Paul's, which is the object of your thought. There +must be a difference between the content of a thought and what it +is about, since the thought is here and now, whereas what it is +about may not be; hence it is clear that the thought is not +identical with St. Paul's. This seems to show that we must +distinguish between content and object. But if Meinong is right, +there can be no thought without an object: the connection of the +two is essential. The object might exist without the thought, but +not the thought without the object: the three elements of act, +content and object are all required to constitute the one single +occurrence called "thinking of St. Paul's." + +The above analysis of a thought, though I believe it to be +mistaken, is very useful as affording a schema in terms of which +other theories can be stated. In the remainder of the present +lecture I shall state in outline the view which I advocate, and +show how various other views out of which mine has grown result +from modifications of the threefold analysis into act, content +and object. + +The first criticism I have to make is that the ACT seems +unnecessary and fictitious. The occurrence of the content of a +thought constitutes the occurrence of the thought. Empirically, I +cannot discover anything corresponding to the supposed act; and +theoretically I cannot see that it is indispensable. We say: "_I_ +think so-and-so," and this word "I" suggests that thinking is the +act of a person. Meinong's "act" is the ghost of the subject, or +what once was the full-blooded soul. It is supposed that thoughts +cannot just come and go, but need a person to think them. Now, of +course it is true that thoughts can be collected into bundles, so +that one bundle is my thoughts, another is your thoughts, and a +third is the thoughts of Mr. Jones. But I think the person is not +an ingredient in the single thought: he is rather constituted by +relations of the thoughts to each other and to the body. This is +a large question, which need not, in its entirety, concern us at +present. All that I am concerned with for the moment is that the +grammatical forms "I think," "you think," and "Mr. Jones thinks," +are misleading if regarded as indicating an analysis of a single +thought. It would be better to say "it thinks in me," like "it +rains here"; or better still, "there is a thought in me." This is +simply on the ground that what Meinong calls the act in thinking +is not empirically discoverable, or logically deducible from what +we can observe. + +The next point of criticism concerns the relation of content and +object. The reference of thoughts to objects is not, I believe, +the simple direct essential thing that Brentano and Meinong +represent it as being. It seems to me to be derivative, and to +consist largely in BELIEFS: beliefs that what constitutes the +thought is connected with various other elements which together +make up the object. You have, say, an image of St. Paul's, or +merely the word "St. Paul's" in your head. You believe, however +vaguely and dimly, that this is connected with what you would see +if you went to St. Paul's, or what you would feel if you touched +its walls; it is further connected with what other people see and +feel, with services and the Dean and Chapter and Sir Christopher +Wren. These things are not mere thoughts of yours, but your +thought stands in a relation to them of which you are more or +less aware. The awareness of this relation is a further thought, +and constitutes your feeling that the original thought had an +"object." But in pure imagination you can get very similar +thoughts without these accompanying beliefs; and in this case +your thoughts do not have objects or seem to have them. Thus in +such instances you have content without object. On the other +hand, in seeing or hearing it would be less misleading to say +that you have object without content, since what you see or hear +is actually part of the physical world, though not matter in the +sense of physics. Thus the whole question of the relation of +mental occurrences to objects grows very complicated, and cannot +be settled by regarding reference to objects as of the essence of +thoughts. All the above remarks are merely preliminary, and will +be expanded later. + +Speaking in popular and unphilosophical terms, we may say that +the content of a thought is supposed to be something in your head +when you think the thought, while the object is usually something +in the outer world. It is held that knowledge of the outer world +is constituted by the relation to the object, while the fact that +knowledge is different from what it knows is due to the fact that +knowledge comes by way of contents. We can begin to state the +difference between realism and idealism in terms of this +opposition of contents and objects. Speaking quite roughly and +approximately, we may say that idealism tends to suppress the +object, while realism tends to suppress the content. Idealism, +accordingly, says that nothing can be known except thoughts, and +all the reality that we know is mental; while realism maintains +that we know objects directly, in sensation certainly, and +perhaps also in memory and thought. Idealism does not say that +nothing can be known beyond the present thought, but it maintains +that the context of vague belief, which we spoke of in connection +with the thought of St. Paul's, only takes you to other thoughts, +never to anything radically different from thoughts. The +difficulty of this view is in regard to sensation, where it seems +as if we came into direct contact with the outer world. But the +Berkeleian way of meeting this difficulty is so familiar that I +need not enlarge upon it now. I shall return to it in a later +lecture, and will only observe, for the present, that there seem +to me no valid grounds for regarding what we see and hear as not +part of the physical world. + +Realists, on the other hand, as a rule, suppress the content, and +maintain that a thought consists either of act and object alone, +or of object alone. I have been in the past a realist, and I +remain a realist as regards sensation, but not as regards memory +or thought. I will try to explain what seem to me to be the +reasons for and against various kinds of realism. + +Modern idealism professes to be by no means confined to the +present thought or the present thinker in regard to its +knowledge; indeed, it contends that the world is so organic, so +dove-tailed, that from any one portion the whole can be inferred, +as the complete skeleton of an extinct animal can be inferred +from one bone. But the logic by which this supposed organic +nature of the world is nominally demonstrated appears to +realists, as it does to me, to be faulty. They argue that, if we +cannot know the physical world directly, we cannot really know +any thing outside our own minds: the rest of the world may be +merely our dream. This is a dreary view, and they there fore seek +ways of escaping from it. Accordingly they maintain that in +knowledge we are in direct contact with objects, which may be, +and usually are, outside our own minds. No doubt they are +prompted to this view, in the first place, by bias, namely, by +the desire to think that they can know of the existence of a +world outside themselves. But we have to consider, not what led +them to desire the view, but whether their arguments for it are +valid. + +There are two different kinds of realism, according as we make a +thought consist of act and object, or of object alone. Their +difficulties are different, but neither seems tenable all +through. Take, for the sake of definiteness, the remembering of a +past event. The remembering occurs now, and is therefore +necessarily not identical with the past event. So long as we +retain the act, this need cause no difficulty. The act of +remembering occurs now, and has on this view a certain essential +relation to the past event which it remembers. There is no +LOGICAL objection to this theory, but there is the objection, +which we spoke of earlier, that the act seems mythical, and is +not to be found by observation. If, on the other hand, we try to +constitute memory without the act, we are driven to a content, +since we must have something that happens NOW, as opposed to the +event which happened in the past. Thus, when we reject the act, +which I think we must, we are driven to a theory of memory which +is more akin to idealism. These arguments, however, do not apply +to sensation. It is especially sensation, I think, which is +considered by those realists who retain only the object.* Their +views, which are chiefly held in America, are in large measure +derived from William James, and before going further it will be +well to consider the revolutionary doctrine which he advocated. I +believe this doctrine contains important new truth, and what I +shall have to say will be in a considerable measure inspired by +it. + +* This is explicitly the case with Mach's "Analysis of +Sensations," a book of fundamental importance in the present +connection. (Translation of fifth German edition, Open Court Co., +1914. First German edition, 1886.) + + +William James's view was first set forth in an essay called "Does +'consciousness' exist?"* In this essay he explains how what used +to be the soul has gradually been refined down to the +"transcendental ego," which, he says, "attenuates itself to a +thoroughly ghostly condition, being only a name for the fact that +the 'content' of experience IS KNOWN. It loses personal form and +activity--these passing over to the content--and becomes a bare +Bewusstheit or Bewusstsein uberhaupt, of which in its own right +absolutely nothing can be said. I believe (he continues) that +'consciousness,' when once it has evaporated to this estate of +pure diaphaneity, is on the point of disappearing altogether. It +is the name of a nonentity, and has no right to a place among +first principles. Those who still cling to it are clinging to a +mere echo, the faint rumour left behind by the disappearing +'soul' upon the air of philosophy"(p. 2). + +* "Journal of Philosophy, Psychology and Scientific Methods," +vol. i, 1904. Reprinted in "Essays in Radical Empiricism" +(Longmans, Green & Co., 1912), pp. 1-38, to which references in +what follows refer. + + +He explains that this is no sudden change in his opinions. "For +twenty years past," he says, "I have mistrusted 'consciousness' +as an entity; for seven or eight years past I have suggested its +non-existence to my students, and tried to give them its +pragmatic equivalent in realities of experience. It seems to me +that the hour is ripe for it to be openly and universally +discarded"(p. 3). + +His next concern is to explain away the air of paradox, for James +was never wilfully paradoxical. "Undeniably," he says, +"'thoughts' do exist." "I mean only to deny that the word stands +for an entity, but to insist most emphatically that it does stand +for a function. There is, I mean, no aboriginal stuff or quality +of being, contrasted with that of which material objects are +made, out of which our thoughts of them are made; but there is a +function in experience which thoughts perform, and for the +performance of which this quality of being is invoked. That +function is KNOWING"(pp. 3-4). + +James's view is that the raw material out of which the world is +built up is not of two sorts, one matter and the other mind, but +that it is arranged in different patterns by its inter-relations, +and that some arrangements may be called mental, while others may +be called physical. + +"My thesis is," he says, "that if we start with the supposition +that there is only one primal stuff or material in the world, a +stuff of which everything is composed, and if we call that stuff +'pure experience,' then knowing can easily be explained as a +particular sort of relation towards one another into which +portions of pure experience may enter. The relation itself is a +part of pure experience; one of its 'terms' becomes the subject +or bearer of the knowledge, the knower, the other becomes the +object known"(p. 4). + +After mentioning the duality of subject and object, which is +supposed to constitute consciousness, he proceeds in italics: +"EXPERIENCE, I BELIEVE, HAS NO SUCH INNER DUPLICITY; AND THE +SEPARATION OF IT INTO CONSCIOUSNESS AND CONTENT COMES, NOT BY WAY +OF SUBTRACTION, BUT BY WAY OF ADDITION"(p. 9). + +He illustrates his meaning by the analogy of paint as it appears +in a paint-shop and as it appears in a picture: in the one case +it is just "saleable matter," while in the other it "performs a +spiritual function. Just so, I maintain (he continues), does a +given undivided portion of experience, taken in one context of +associates, play the part of a knower, of a state of mind, of +'consciousness'; while in a different context the same undivided +bit of experience plays the part of a thing known, of an +objective 'content.' In a word, in one group it figures as a +thought, in another group as a thing"(pp. 9-10). + +He does not believe in the supposed immediate certainty of +thought. "Let the case be what it may in others," he says, "I am +as confident as I am of anything that, in myself, the stream of +thinking (which I recognize emphatically as a phenomenon) is only +a careless name for what, when scrutinized, reveals itself to +consist chiefly of the stream of my breathing. The 'I think' +which Kant said must be able to accompany all my objects, is the +'I breathe' which actually does accompany them"(pp. 36-37). + +The same view of "consciousness" is set forth in the succeeding +essay, "A World of Pure Experience" (ib., pp. 39-91). The use of +the phrase "pure experience" in both essays points to a lingering +influence of idealism. "Experience," like "consciousness," must +be a product, not part of the primary stuff of the world. It must +be possible, if James is right in his main contentions, that +roughly the same stuff, differently arranged, would not give rise +to anything that could be called "experience." This word has been +dropped by the American realists, among whom we may mention +specially Professor R. B. Perry of Harvard and Mr. Edwin B. Holt. +The interests of this school are in general philosophy and the +philosophy of the sciences, rather than in psychology; they have +derived a strong impulsion from James, but have more interest +than he had in logic and mathematics and the abstract part of +philosophy. They speak of "neutral" entities as the stuff out of +which both mind and matter are constructed. Thus Holt says: "If +the terms and propositions of logic must be substantialized, they +are all strictly of one substance, for which perhaps the least +dangerous name is neutral- stuff. The relation of neutral-stuff +to matter and mind we shall have presently to consider at +considerable length." * + +* "The Concept of Consciousness" (Geo. Allen & Co., 1914), p. 52. + + +My own belief--for which the reasons will appear in subsequent +lectures--is that James is right in rejecting consciousness as an +entity, and that the American realists are partly right, though +not wholly, in considering that both mind and matter are composed +of a neutral-stuff which, in isolation, is neither mental nor +material. I should admit this view as regards sensations: what is +heard or seen belongs equally to psychology and to physics. But I +should say that images belong only to the mental world, while +those occurrences (if any) which do not form part of any +"experience" belong only to the physical world. There are, it +seems to me, prima facie different kinds of causal laws, one +belonging to physics and the other to psychology. The law of +gravitation, for example, is a physical law, while the law of +association is a psychological law. Sensations are subject to +both kinds of laws, and are therefore truly "neutral" in Holt's +sense. But entities subject only to physical laws, or only to +psychological laws, are not neutral, and may be called +respectively purely material and purely mental. Even those, +however, which are purely mental will not have that intrinsic +reference to objects which Brentano assigns to them and which +constitutes the essence of "consciousness" as ordinarily +understood. But it is now time to pass on to other modern +tendencies, also hostile to "consciousness." + +There is a psychological school called "Behaviourists," of whom +the protagonist is Professor John B. Watson,* formerly of the +Johns Hopkins University. To them also, on the whole, belongs +Professor John Dewey, who, with James and Dr. Schiller, was one +of the three founders of pragmatism. The view of the +"behaviourists" is that nothing can be known except by external +observation. They deny altogether that there is a separate source +of knowledge called "introspection," by which we can know things +about ourselves which we could never observe in others. They do +not by any means deny that all sorts of things MAY go on in our +minds: they only say that such things, if they occur, are not +susceptible of scientific observation, and do not therefore +concern psychology as a science. Psychology as a science, they +say, is only concerned with BEHAVIOUR, i.e. with what we DO; this +alone, they contend, can be accurately observed. Whether we think +meanwhile, they tell us, cannot be known; in their observation of +the behaviour of human beings, they have not so far found any +evidence of thought. True, we talk a great deal, and imagine that +in so doing we are showing that we can think; but behaviourists +say that the talk they have to listen to can be explained without +supposing that people think. Where you might expect a chapter on +"thought processes" you come instead upon a chapter on "The +Language Habit." It is humiliating to find how terribly adequate +this hypothesis turns out to be. + +* See especially his "Behavior: an Introduction to Comparative +Psychology," New York, 1914. + + +Behaviourism has not, however, sprung from observing the folly of +men. It is the wisdom of animals that has suggested the view. It +has always been a common topic of popular discussion whether +animals "think." On this topic people are prepared to take sides +without having the vaguest idea what they mean by "thinking." +Those who desired to investigate such questions were led to +observe the behaviour of animals, in the hope that their +behaviour would throw some light on their mental faculties. At +first sight, it might seem that this is so. People say that a dog +"knows" its name because it comes when it is called, and that it +"remembers" its master, because it looks sad in his absence, but +wags its tail and barks when he returns. That the dog behaves in +this way is matter of observation, but that it "knows" or +"remembers" anything is an inference, and in fact a very doubtful +one. The more such inferences are examined, the more precarious +they are seen to be. Hence the study of animal behaviour has been +gradually led to abandon all attempt at mental interpretation. +And it can hardly be doubted that, in many cases of complicated +behaviour very well adapted to its ends, there can be no +prevision of those ends. The first time a bird builds a nest, we +can hardly suppose it knows that there will be eggs to be laid in +it, or that it will sit on the eggs, or that they will hatch into +young birds. It does what it does at each stage because instinct +gives it an impulse to do just that, not because it foresees and +desires the result of its actions.* + +* An interesting discussion of the question whether instinctive +actions, when first performed, involve any prevision, however +vague, will be found in Lloyd Morgan's "Instinct and Experience" +(Methuen, 1912), chap. ii. + + +Careful observers of animals, being anxious to avoid precarious +inferences, have gradually discovered more and more how to give +an account of the actions of animals without assuming what we +call "consciousness." It has seemed to the behaviourists that +similar methods can be applied to human behaviour, without +assuming anything not open to external observation. Let us give a +crude illustration, too crude for the authors in question, but +capable of affording a rough insight into their meaning. Suppose +two children in a school, both of whom are asked "What is six +times nine?" One says fifty-four, the other says fifty-six. The +one, we say, "knows" what six times nine is, the other does not. +But all that we can observe is a certain language-habit. The one +child has acquired the habit of saying "six times nine is +fifty-four"; the other has not. There is no more need of +"thought" in this than there is when a horse turns into his +accustomed stable; there are merely more numerous and complicated +habits. There is obviously an observable fact called "knowing" +such-and-such a thing; examinations are experiments for +discovering such facts. But all that is observed or discovered is +a certain set of habits in the use of words. The thoughts (if +any) in the mind of the examinee are of no interest to the +examiner; nor has the examiner any reason to suppose even the +most successful examinee capable of even the smallest amount of +thought. + +Thus what is called "knowing," in the sense in which we can +ascertain what other people "know," is a phenomenon exemplified +in their physical behaviour, including spoken and written words. +There is no reason--so Watson argues--to suppose that their +knowledge IS anything beyond the habits shown in this behaviour: +the inference that other people have something nonphysical called +"mind" or "thought" is therefore unwarranted. + +So far, there is nothing particularly repugnant to our prejudices +in the conclusions of the behaviourists. We are all willing to +admit that other people are thoughtless. But when it comes to +ourselves, we feel convinced that we can actually perceive our +own thinking. "Cogito, ergo sum" would be regarded by most people +as having a true premiss. This, however, the behaviourist denies. +He maintains that our knowledge of ourselves is no different in +kind from our knowledge of other people. We may see MORE, because +our own body is easier to observe than that of other people; but +we do not see anything radically unlike what we see of others. +Introspection, as a separate source of knowledge, is entirely +denied by psychologists of this school. I shall discuss this +question at length in a later lecture; for the present I will +only observe that it is by no means simple, and that, though I +believe the behaviourists somewhat overstate their case, yet +there is an important element of truth in their contention, since +the things which we can discover by introspection do not seem to +differ in any very fundamental way from the things which we +discover by external observation. + +So far, we have been principally concerned with knowing. But it +might well be maintained that desiring is what is really most +characteristic of mind. Human beings are constantly engaged in +achieving some end they feel pleasure in success and pain in +failure. In a purely material world, it may be said, there would +be no opposition of pleasant and unpleasant, good and bad, what +is desired and what is feared. A man's acts are governed by +purposes. He decides, let us suppose, to go to a certain place, +whereupon he proceeds to the station, takes his ticket and enters +the train. If the usual route is blocked by an accident, he goes +by some other route. All that he does is determined--or so it +seems--by the end he has in view, by what lies in front of him, +rather than by what lies behind. With dead matter, this is not +the case. A stone at the top of a hill may start rolling, but it +shows no pertinacity in trying to get to the bottom. Any ledge or +obstacle will stop it, and it will exhibit no signs of discontent +if this happens. It is not attracted by the pleasantness of the +valley, as a sheep or cow might be, but propelled by the +steepness of the hill at the place where it is. In all this we +have characteristic differences between the behaviour of animals +and the behaviour of matter as studied by physics. + +Desire, like knowledge, is, of course, in one sense an observable +phenomenon. An elephant will eat a bun, but not a mutton chop; a +duck will go into the water, but a hen will not. But when we +think of our own. desires, most people believe that we can know +them by an immediate self-knowledge which does not depend upon +observation of our actions. Yet if this were the case, it would +be odd that people are so often mistaken as to what they desire. +It is matter of common observation that "so-and-so does not know +his own motives," or that "A is envious of B and malicious about +him, but quite unconscious of being so." Such people are called +self-deceivers, and are supposed to have had to go through some +more or less elaborate process of concealing from themselves what +would otherwise have been obvious. I believe that this is an +entire mistake. I believe that the discovery of our own motives +can only be made by the same process by which we discover other +people's, namely, the process of observing our actions and +inferring the desire which could prompt them. A desire is +"conscious" when we have told ourselves that we have it. A hungry +man may say to himself: "Oh, I do want my lunch." Then his desire +is "conscious." But it only differs from an "unconscious" desire +by the presence of appropriate words, which is by no means a +fundamental difference. + +The belief that a motive is normally conscious makes it easier to +be mistaken as to our own motives than as to other people's. When +some desire that we should be ashamed of is attributed to us, we +notice that we have never had it consciously, in the sense of +saying to ourselves, "I wish that would happen." We therefore +look for some other interpretation of our actions, and regard our +friends as very unjust when they refuse to be convinced by our +repudiation of what we hold to be a calumny. Moral considerations +greatly increase the difficulty of clear thinking in this matter. +It is commonly argued that people are not to blame for +unconscious motives, but only for conscious ones. In order, +therefore, to be wholly virtuous it is only necessary to repeat +virtuous formulas. We say: "I desire to be kind to my friends, +honourable in business, philanthropic towards the poor, +public-spirited in politics." So long as we refuse to allow +ourselves, even in the watches of the night, to avow any contrary +desires, we may be bullies at home, shady in the City, skinflints +in paying wages and profiteers in dealing with the public; yet, +if only conscious motives are to count in moral valuation, we +shall remain model characters. This is an agreeable doctrine, and +it is not surprising that men are un willing to abandon it. But +moral considerations are the worst enemies of the scientific +spirit and we must dismiss them from our minds if we wish to +arrive at truth. + +I believe--as I shall try to prove in a later lecture -that +desire, like force in mechanics, is of the nature of a convenient +fiction for describing shortly certain laws of behaviour. A +hungry animal is restless until it finds food; then it becomes +quiescent. The thing which will bring a restless condition to an +end is said to be what is desired. But only experience can show +what will have this sedative effect, and it is easy to make +mistakes. We feel dissatisfaction, and think that such and-such a +thing would remove it; but in thinking this, we are theorizing, +not observing a patent fact. Our theorizing is often mistaken, +and when it is mistaken there is a difference between what we +think we desire and what in fact will bring satisfaction. This is +such a common phenomenon that any theory of desire which fails to +account for it must be wrong. + +What have been called "unconscious" desires have been brought +very much to the fore in recent years by psycho-analysis. +Psycho-analysis, as every one knows, is primarily a method of +understanding hysteria and certain forms of insanity*; but it has +been found that there is much in the lives of ordinary men and +women which bears a humiliating resemblance to the delusions of +the insane. The connection of dreams, irrational beliefs and +foolish actions with unconscious wishes has been brought to +light, though with some exaggeration, by Freud and Jung and their +followers. As regards the nature of these unconscious wishes, it +seems to me--though as a layman I speak with diffidence--that +many psycho-analysts are unduly narrow; no doubt the wishes they +emphasize exist, but others, e.g. for honour and power, are +equally operative and equally liable to concealment. This, +however, does not affect the value of their general theories from +the point of view of theoretic psychology, and it is from this +point of view that their results are important for the analysis +of mind. + +* There is a wide field of "unconscious" phenomena which does not +depend upon psycho-analytic theories. Such occurrences as +automatic writing lead Dr. Morton Prince to say: "As I view this +question of the subconscious, far too much weight is given to the +point of awareness or not awareness of our conscious processes. +As a matter of fact, we find entirely identical phenomena, that +is, identical in every respect but one-that of awareness in which +sometimes we are aware of these conscious phenomena and sometimes +not"(p. 87 of "Subconscious Phenomena," by various authors, +Rebman). Dr. Morton Price conceives that there may be +"consciousness" without "awareness." But this is a difficult +view, and one which makes some definition of "consciousness" +imperative. For nay part, I cannot see how to separate +consciousness from awareness. + + +What, I think, is clearly established, is that a man's actions +and beliefs may be wholly dominated by a desire of which he is +quite unconscious, and which he indignantly repudiates when it is +suggested to him. Such a desire is generally, in morbid cases, of +a sort which the patient would consider wicked; if he had to +admit that he had the desire, he would loathe himself. Yet it is +so strong that it must force an outlet for itself; hence it +becomes necessary to entertain whole systems of false beliefs in +order to hide the nature of what is desired. The resulting +delusions in very many cases disappear if the hysteric or lunatic +can be made to face the facts about himself. The consequence of +this is that the treatment of many forms of insanity has grown +more psychological and less physiological than it used to be. +Instead of looking for a physical defect in the brain, those who +treat delusions look for the repressed desire which has found +this contorted mode of expression. For those who do not wish to +plunge into the somewhat repulsive and often rather wild theories +of psychoanalytic pioneers, it will be worth while to read a +little book by Dr. Bernard Hart on "The Psychology of Insanity."* +On this question of the mental as opposed to the physiological +study of the causes of insanity, Dr. Hart says: + +* Cambridge, 1912; 2nd edition, 1914. The following references +are to the second edition. + + +"The psychological conception [of insanity] is based on the view +that mental processes can be directly studied without any +reference to the accompanying changes which are presumed to take +place in the brain, and that insanity may therefore be properly +attacked from the standpoint of psychology"(p. 9). + +This illustrates a point which I am anxious to make clear from +the outset. Any attempt to classify modern views, such as I +propose to advocate, from the old standpoint of materialism and +idealism, is only misleading. In certain respects, the views +which I shall be setting forth approximate to materialism; in +certain others, they approximate to its opposite. On this +question of the study of delusions, the practical effect of the +modern theories, as Dr. Hart points out, is emancipation from the +materialist method. On the other hand, as he also points out (pp. +38-9), imbecility and dementia still have to be considered +physiologically, as caused by defects in the brain. There is no +inconsistency in this If, as we maintain, mind and matter are +neither of them the actual stuff of reality, but different +convenient groupings of an underlying material, then, clearly, +the question whether, in regard to a given phenomenon, we are to +seek a physical or a mental cause, is merely one to be decided by +trial. Metaphysicians have argued endlessly as to the interaction +of mind and matter. The followers of Descartes held that mind and +matter are so different as to make any action of the one on the +other impossible. When I will to move my arm, they said, it is +not my will that operates on my arm, but God, who, by His +omnipotence, moves my arm whenever I want it moved. The modern +doctrine of psychophysical parallelism is not appreciably +different from this theory of the Cartesian school. +Psycho-physical parallelism is the theory that mental and +physical events each have causes in their own sphere, but run on +side by side owing to the fact that every state of the brain +coexists with a definite state of the mind, and vice versa. This +view of the reciprocal causal independence of mind and matter has +no basis except in metaphysical theory.* For us, there is no +necessity to make any such assumption, which is very difficult to +harmonize with obvious facts. I receive a letter inviting me to +dinner: the letter is a physical fact, but my apprehension of its +meaning is mental. Here we have an effect of matter on mind. In +consequence of my apprehension of the meaning of the letter, I go +to the right place at the right time; here we have an effect of +mind on matter. I shall try to persuade you, in the course of +these lectures, that matter is not so material and mind not so +mental as is generally supposed. When we are speaking of matter, +it will seem as if we were inclining to idealism; when we are +speaking of mind, it will seem as if we were inclining to +materialism. Neither is the truth. Our world is to be constructed +out of what the American realists call "neutral" entities, which +have neither the hardness and indestructibility of matter, nor +the reference to objects which is supposed to characterize mind. + +* It would seem, however, that Dr. Hart accepts this theory as 8 +methodological precept. See his contribution to "Subconscious +Phenomena" (quoted above), especially pp. 121-2. + + +There is, it is true, one objection which might be felt, not +indeed to the action of matter on mind, but to the action of mind +on matter. The laws of physics, it may be urged, are apparently +adequate to explain everything that happens to matter, even when +it is matter in a man's brain. This, however, is only a +hypothesis, not an established theory. There is no cogent +empirical reason for supposing that the laws determining the +motions of living bodies are exactly the same as those that apply +to dead matter. Sometimes, of course, they are clearly the same. +When a man falls from a precipice or slips on a piece of orange +peel, his body behaves as if it were devoid of life. These are +the occasions that make Bergson laugh. But when a man's bodily +movements are what we call "voluntary," they are, at any rate +prima facie, very different in their laws from the movements of +what is devoid of life. I do not wish to say dogmatically that +the difference is irreducible; I think it highly probable that it +is not. I say only that the study of the behaviour of living +bodies, in the present state of our knowledge, is distinct from +physics. The study of gases was originally quite distinct from +that of rigid bodies, and would never have advanced to its +present state if it had not been independently pursued. Nowadays +both the gas and the rigid body are manufactured out of a more +primitive and universal kind of matter. In like manner, as a +question of methodology, the laws of living bodies are to be +studied, in the first place, without any undue haste to +subordinate them to the laws of physics. Boyle's law and the rest +had to be discovered before the kinetic theory of gases became +possible. But in psychology we are hardly yet at the stage of +Boyle's law. Meanwhile we need not be held up by the bogey of the +universal rigid exactness of physics. This is, as yet, a mere +hypothesis, to be tested empirically without any preconceptions. +It may be true, or it may not. So far, that is all we can say. + +Returning from this digression to our main topic, namely, the +criticism of "consciousness," we observe that Freud and his +followers, though they have demonstrated beyond dispute the +immense importance of "unconscious" desires in determining our +actions and beliefs, have not attempted the task of telling us +what an "unconscious" desire actually is, and have thus invested +their doctrine with an air of mystery and mythology which forms a +large part of its popular attractiveness. They speak always as +though it were more normal for a desire to be conscious, and as +though a positive cause had to be assigned for its being +unconscious. Thus "the unconscious" becomes a sort of underground +prisoner, living in a dungeon, breaking in at long intervals upon +our daylight respectability with dark groans and maledictions and +strange atavistic lusts. The ordinary reader, almost inevitably, +thinks of this underground person as another consciousness, +prevented by what Freud calls the "censor" from making his voice +heard in company, except on rare and dreadful occasions when he +shouts so loud that every one hears him and there is a scandal. +Most of us like the idea that we could be desperately wicked if +only we let ourselves go. For this reason, the Freudian +"unconscious" has been a consolation to many quiet and +well-behaved persons. + +I do not think the truth is quite so picturesque as this. I +believe an "unconscious" desire is merely a causal law of our +behaviour,* namely, that we remain restlessly active until a +certain state of affairs is realized, when we achieve temporary +equilibrium If we know beforehand what this state of affairs is, +our desire is conscious; if not, unconscious. The unconscious +desire is not something actually existing, but merely a tendency +to a certain behaviour; it has exactly the same status as a force +in dynamics. The unconscious desire is in no way mysterious; it +is the natural primitive form of desire, from which the other has +developed through our habit of observing and theorizing (often +wrongly). It is not necessary to suppose, as Freud seems to do, +that every unconscious wish was once conscious, and was then, in +his terminology, "repressed" because we disapproved of it. On the +contrary, we shall suppose that, although Freudian "repression" +undoubtedly occurs and is important, it is not the usual reason +for unconsciousness of our wishes. The usual reason is merely +that wishes are all, to begin with, unconscious, and only become +known when they are actively noticed. Usually, from laziness, +people do not notice, but accept the theory of human nature which +they find current, and attribute to themselves whatever wishes +this theory would lead them to expect. We used to be full of +virtuous wishes, but since Freud our wishes have become, in the +words of the Prophet Jeremiah, "deceitful above all things and +desperately wicked." Both these views, in most of those who have +held them, are the product of theory rather than observation, for +observation requires effort, whereas repeating phrases does not. + +* Cf. Hart, "The Psychology of Insanity," p. 19. + + +The interpretation of unconscious wishes which I have been +advocating has been set forth briefly by Professor John B. Watson +in an article called "The Psychology of Wish Fulfilment," which +appeared in "The Scientific Monthly" in November, 1916. Two +quotations will serve to show his point of view: + +"The Freudians (he says) have made more or less of a +'metaphysical entity' out of the censor. They suppose that when +wishes are repressed they are repressed into the 'unconscious,' +and that this mysterious censor stands at the trapdoor lying +between the conscious and the unconscious. Many of us do not +believe in a world of the unconscious (a few of us even have +grave doubts about the usefulness of the term consciousness), +hence we try to explain censorship along ordinary biological +lines. We believe that one group of habits can 'down' another +group of habits--or instincts. In this case our ordinary system +of habits--those which we call expressive of our 'real selves'-- +inhibit or quench (keep inactive or partially inactive) those +habits and instinctive tendencies which belong largely in the +past"(p. 483). + +Again, after speaking of the frustration of some impulses which +is involved in acquiring the habits of a civilized adult, he +continues: + +"It is among these frustrated impulses that I would find the +biological basis of the unfulfilled wish. Such 'wishes' need +never have been 'conscious,' and NEED NEVER HAVE BEEN SUPPRESSED +INTO FREUD'S REALM OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. It may be inferred from +this that there is no particular reason for applying the term +'wish' to such tendencies"(p. 485). + +One of the merits of the general analysis of mind which we shall +be concerned with in the following lectures is that it removes +the atmosphere of mystery from the phenomena brought to light by +the psycho-analysts. Mystery is delightful, but unscientific, +since it depends upon ignorance. Man has developed out of the +animals, and there is no serious gap between him and the amoeba. +Something closely analogous to knowledge and desire, as regards +its effects on behaviour, exists among animals, even where what +we call "consciousness" is hard to believe in; something equally +analogous exists in ourselves in cases where no trace of +"consciousness" can be found. It is therefore natural to suppose +that, what ever may be the correct definition of "consciousness," +"consciousness" is not the essence of life or mind. In the +following lectures, accordingly, this term will disappear until +we have dealt with words, when it will re-emerge as mainly a +trivial and unimportant outcome of linguistic habits. + + + +LECTURE II. INSTINCT AND HABIT + +In attempting to understand the elements out of which mental +phenomena are compounded, it is of the greatest importance to +remember that from the protozoa to man there is nowhere a very +wide gap either in structure or in behaviour. From this fact it +is a highly probable inference that there is also nowhere a very +wide mental gap. It is, of course, POSSIBLE that there may be, at +certain stages in evolution, elements which are entirely new from +the standpoint of analysis, though in their nascent form they +have little influence on behaviour and no very marked +correlatives in structure. But the hypothesis of continuity in +mental development is clearly preferable if no psychological +facts make it impossible. We shall find, if I am not mistaken, +that there are no facts which refute the hypothesis of mental +continuity, and that, on the other hand, this hypothesis affords +a useful test of suggested theories as to the nature of mind. + +The hypothesis of mental continuity throughout organic evolution +may be used in two different ways. On the one hand, it may be +held that we have more knowledge of our own minds than those of +animals, and that we should use this knowledge to infer the +existence of something similar to our own mental processes in +animals and even in plants. On the other hand, it may be held +that animals and plants present simpler phenomena, more easily +analysed than those of human minds; on this ground it may be +urged that explanations which are adequate in the case of animals +ought not to be lightly rejected in the case of man. The +practical effects of these two views are diametrically opposite: +the first leads us to level up animal intelligence with what we +believe ourselves to know about our own intelligence, while the +second leads us to attempt a levelling down of our own +intelligence to something not too remote from what we can observe +in animals. It is therefore important to consider the relative +justification of the two ways of applying the principle of +continuity. + +It is clear that the question turns upon another, namely, which +can we know best, the psychology of animals or that of human +beings? If we can know most about animals, we shall use this +knowledge as a basis for inference about human beings; if we can +know most about human beings, we shall adopt the opposite +procedure. And the question whether we can know most about the +psychology of human beings or about that of animals turns upon +yet another, namely: Is introspection or external observation the +surer method in psychology? This is a question which I propose to +discuss at length in Lecture VI; I shall therefore content myself +now with a statement of the conclusions to be arrived at. + +We know a great many things concerning ourselves which we cannot +know nearly so directly concerning animals or even other people. +We know when we have a toothache, what we are thinking of, what +dreams we have when we are asleep, and a host of other +occurrences which we only know about others when they tell us of +them, or otherwise make them inferable by their behaviour. Thus, +so far as knowledge of detached facts is concerned, the advantage +is on the side of self-knowledge as against external observation. + +But when we come to the analysis and scientific understanding of +the facts, the advantages on the side of self-knowledge become +far less clear. We know, for example, that we have desires and +beliefs, but we do not know what constitutes a desire or a +belief. The phenomena are so familiar that it is difficult to +realize how little we really know about them. We see in animals, +and to a lesser extent in plants, behaviour more or less similar +to that which, in us, is prompted by desires and beliefs, and we +find that, as we descend in the scale of evolution, behaviour +becomes simpler, more easily reducible to rule, more +scientifically analysable and predictable. And just because we +are not misled by familiarity we find it easier to be cautious in +interpreting behaviour when we are dealing with phenomena remote +from those of our own minds: Moreover, introspection, as +psychoanalysis has demonstrated, is extraordinarily fallible even +in cases where we feel a high degree of certainty. The net result +seems to be that, though self-knowledge has a definite and +important contribution to make to psychology, it is exceedingly +misleading unless it is constantly checked and controlled by the +test of external observation, and by the theories which such +observation suggests when applied to animal behaviour. On the +whole, therefore, there is probably more to be learnt about human +psychology from animals than about animal psychology from human +beings; but this conclusion is one of degree, and must not be +pressed beyond a point. + +It is only bodily phenomena that can be directly observed in +animals, or even, strictly speaking, in other human beings. We +can observe such things as their movements, their physiological +processes, and the sounds they emit. Such things as desires and +beliefs, which seem obvious to introspection, are not visible +directly to external observation. Accordingly, if we begin our +study of psychology by external observation, we must not begin by +assuming such things as desires and beliefs, but only such things +as external observation can reveal, which will be characteristics +of the movements and physiological processes of animals. Some +animals, for example, always run away from light and hide +themselves in dark places. If you pick up a mossy stone which is +lightly embedded in the earth, you will see a number of small +animals scuttling away from the unwonted daylight and seeking +again the darkness of which you have deprived them. Such animals +are sensitive to light, in the sense that their movements are +affected by it; but it would be rash to infer that they have +sensations in any way analogous to our sensations of sight. Such +inferences, which go beyond the observable facts, are to be +avoided with the utmost care. + +It is customary to divide human movements into three classes, +voluntary, reflex and mechanical. We may illustrate the +distinction by a quotation from William James ("Psychology," i, +12): + +"If I hear the conductor calling 'all aboard' as I enter the +depot, my heart first stops, then palpitates, and my legs respond +to the air-waves falling on my tympanum by quickening their +movements. If I stumble as I run, the sensation of falling +provokes a movement of the hands towards the direction of the +fall, the effect of which is to shield the body from too sudden a +shock. If a cinder enter my eye, its lids close forcibly and a +copious flow of tears tends to wash it out. + +"These three responses to a sensational stimulus differ, however, +in many respects. The closure of the eye and the lachrymation are +quite involuntary, and so is the disturbance of the heart. Such +involuntary responses we know as 'reflex' acts. The motion of the +arms to break the shock of falling may also be called reflex, +since it occurs too quickly to be deliberately intended. Whether +it be instinctive or whether it result from the pedestrian +education of childhood may be doubtful; it is, at any rate, less +automatic than the previous acts, for a man might by conscious +effort learn to perform it more skilfully, or even to suppress it +altogether. Actions of this kind, with which instinct and +volition enter upon equal terms, have been called 'semi-reflex.' +The act of running towards the train, on the other hand, has no +instinctive element about it. It is purely the result of +education, and is preceded by a consciousness of the purpose to +be attained and a distinct mandate of the will. It is a +'voluntary act.' Thus the animal's reflex and voluntary +performances shade into each other gradually, being connected by +acts which may often occur automatically, but may also be +modified by conscious intelligence. + +"An outside observer, unable to perceive the accompanying +consciousness, might be wholly at a loss to discriminate between +the automatic acts and those which volition escorted. But if the +criterion of mind's existence be the choice of the proper means +for the attainment of a supposed end, all the acts alike seem to +be inspired by intelligence, for APPROPRIATENESS characterizes +them all alike. " + +There is one movement, among those that James mentions at first, +which is not subsequently classified, namely, the stumbling. This +is the kind of movement which may be called "mechanical"; it is +evidently of a different kind from either reflex or voluntary +movements, and more akin to the movements of dead matter. We may +define a movement of an animal's body as "mechanical" when it +proceeds as if only dead matter were involved. For example, if +you fall over a cliff, you move under the influence of +gravitation, and your centre of gravity describes just as correct +a parabola as if you were already dead. Mechanical movements have +not the characteristic of appropriateness, unless by accident, as +when a drunken man falls into a waterbutt and is sobered. But +reflex and voluntary movements are not ALWAYS appropriate, unless +in some very recondite sense. A moth flying into a lamp is not +acting sensibly; no more is a man who is in such a hurry to get +his ticket that he cannot remember the name of his destination. +Appropriateness is a complicated and merely approximate idea, and +for the present we shall do well to dismiss it from our thoughts. + +As James states, there is no difference, from the point of view +of the outside observer, between voluntary and reflex movements. +The physiologist can discover that both depend upon the nervous +system, and he may find that the movements which we call +voluntary depend upon higher centres in the brain than those that +are reflex. But he cannot discover anything as to the presence or +absence of "will" or "consciousness," for these things can only +be seen from within, if at all. For the present, we wish to place +ourselves resolutely in the position of outside observers; we +will therefore ignore the distinction between voluntary and +reflex movements. We will call the two together "vital" +movements. We may then distinguish "vital" from mechanical +movements by the fact that vital movements depend for their +causation upon the special properties of the nervous system, +while mechanical movements depend only upon the properties which +animal bodies share with matter in general. + +There is need for some care if the distinction between mechanical +and vital movements is to be made precise. It is quite likely +that, if we knew more about animal bodies, we could deduce all +their movements from the laws of chemistry and physics. It is +already fairly easy to see how chemistry reduces to physics, i.e. +how the differences between different chemical elements can be +accounted for by differences of physical structure, the +constituents of the structure being electrons which are exactly +alike in all kinds of matter. We only know in part how to reduce +physiology to chemistry, but we know enough to make it likely +that the reduction is possible. If we suppose it effected, what +would become of the difference between vital and mechanical +movements? + +Some analogies will make the difference clear. A shock to a mass +of dynamite produces quite different effects from an equal shock +to a mass of steel: in the one case there is a vast explosion, +while in the other case there is hardly any noticeable +disturbance. Similarly, you may sometimes find on a mountain-side +a large rock poised so delicately that a touch will set it +crashing down into the valley, while the rocks all round are so +firm that only a considerable force can dislodge them What is +analogous in these two cases is the existence of a great store of +energy in unstable equilibrium ready to burst into violent motion +by the addition of a very slight disturbance. Similarly, it +requires only a very slight expenditure of energy to send a +post-card with the words "All is discovered; fly!" but the effect +in generating kinetic energy is said to be amazing. A human body, +like a mass of dynamite, contains a store of energy in unstable +equilibrium, ready to be directed in this direction or that by a +disturbance which is physically very small, such as a spoken +word. In all such cases the reduction of behaviour to physical +laws can only be effected by entering into great minuteness; so +long as we confine ourselves to the observation of comparatively +large masses, the way in which the equilibrium will be upset +cannot be determined. Physicists distinguish between macroscopic +and microscopic equations: the former determine the visible +movements of bodies of ordinary size, the latter the minute +occurrences in the smallest parts. It is only the microscopic +equations that are supposed to be the same for all sorts of +matter. The macroscopic equations result from a process of +averaging out, and may be different in different cases. So, in +our instance, the laws of macroscopic phenomena are different for +mechanical and vital movements, though the laws of microscopic +phenomena may be the same. + +We may say, speaking somewhat roughly, that a stimulus applied to +the nervous system, like a spark to dynamite, is able to take +advantage of the stored energy in unstable equilibrium, and thus +to produce movements out of proportion to the proximate cause. +Movements produced in this way are vital movements, while +mechanical movements are those in which the stored energy of a +living body is not involved. Similarly dynamite may be exploded, +thereby displaying its characteristic properties, or may (with +due precautions) be carted about like any other mineral. The +explosion is analogous to vital movements, the carting about to +mechanical movements. + +Mechanical movements are of no interest to the psychologist, and +it has only been necessary to define them in order to be able to +exclude them. When a psychologist studies behaviour, it is only +vital movements that concern him. We shall, therefore, proceed to +ignore mechanical movements, and study only the properties of the +remainder. + +The next point is to distinguish between movements that are +instinctive and movements that are acquired by experience. This +distinction also is to some extent one of degree. Professor Lloyd +Morgan gives the following definition of "instinctive behaviour": + +"That which is, on its first occurrence, independent of prior +experience; which tends to the well-being of the individual and +the preservation of the race; which is similarly performed by all +members of the same more or less restricted group of animals; and +which may be subject to subsequent modification under the +guidance of experience." * + +* "Instinct and Experience" (Methuen, 1912) p. 5. + + +This definition is framed for the purposes of biology, and is in +some respects unsuited to the needs of psychology. Though perhaps +unavoidable, allusion to "the same more or less restricted group +of animals" makes it impossible to judge what is instinctive in +the behaviour of an isolated individual. Moreover, "the +well-being of the individual and the preservation of the race" is +only a usual characteristic, not a universal one, of the sort of +movements that, from our point of view, are to be called +instinctive; instances of harmful instincts will be given +shortly. The essential point of the definition, from our point of +view, is that an instinctive movement is in dependent of prior +experience. + +We may say that an "instinctive" movement is a vital movement +performed by an animal the first time that it finds itself in a +novel situation; or, more correctly, one which it would perform +if the situation were novel.* The instincts of an animal are +different at different periods of its growth, and this fact may +cause changes of behaviour which are not due to learning. The +maturing and seasonal fluctuation of the sex-instinct affords a +good illustration. When the sex-instinct first matures, the +behaviour of an animal in the presence of a mate is different +from its previous behaviour in similar circumstances, but is not +learnt, since it is just the same if the animal has never +previously been in the presence of a mate. + +* Though this can only be decided by comparison with other +members of the species, and thus exposes us to the need of +comparison which we thought an objection to Professor Lloyd +Morgan's definition. + + +On the other hand, a movement is "learnt," or embodies a "habit," +if it is due to previous experience of similar situations, and is +not what it would be if the animal had had no such experience. + +There are various complications which blur the sharpness of this +distinction in practice. To begin with, many instincts mature +gradually, and while they are immature an animal may act in a +fumbling manner which is very difficult to distinguish from +learning. James ("Psychology," ii, 407) maintains that children +walk by instinct, and that the awkwardness of their first +attempts is only due to the fact that the instinct has not yet +ripened. He hopes that "some scientific widower, left alone with +his offspring at the critical moment, may ere long test this +suggestion on the living subject." However this may be, he quotes +evidence to show that "birds do not LEARN to fly," but fly by +instinct when they reach the appropriate age (ib., p. 406). In +the second place, instinct often gives only a rough outline of +the sort of thing to do, in which case learning is necessary in +order to acquire certainty and precision in action. In the third +place, even in the clearest cases of acquired habit, such as +speaking, some instinct is required to set in motion the process +of learning. In the case of speaking, the chief instinct involved +is commonly supposed to be that of imitation, but this may be +questioned. (See Thorndike's "Animal Intelligence," p. 253 ff.) + +In spite of these qualifications, the broad distinction between +instinct and habit is undeniable. To take extreme cases, every +animal at birth can take food by instinct, before it has had +opportunity to learn; on the other hand, no one can ride a +bicycle by instinct, though, after learning, the necessary +movements become just as automatic as if they were instinctive. + +The process of learning, which consists in the acquisition of +habits, has been much studied in various animals.* For example: +you put a hungry animal, say a cat, in a cage which has a door +that can be opened by lifting a latch; outside the cage you put +food. The cat at first dashes all round the cage, making frantic +efforts to force a way out. At last, by accident, the latch is +lifted. and the cat pounces on the food. Next day you repeat the +experiment, and you find that the cat gets out much more quickly +than the first time, although it still makes some random +movements. The third day it gets out still more quickly, and +before long it goes straight to the latch and lifts it at once. +Or you make a model of the Hampton Court maze, and put a rat in +the middle, assaulted by the smell of food on the outside. The +rat starts running down the passages, and is constantly stopped +by blind alleys, but at last, by persistent attempts, it gets +out. You repeat this experiment day after day; you measure the +time taken by the rat in reaching the food; you find that the +time rapidly diminishes, and that after a while the rat ceases to +make any wrong turnings. It is by essentially similar processes +that we learn speaking, writing, mathematics, or the government +of an empire. + +* The scientific study of this subject may almost be said to +begin with Thorndike's "Animal Intelligence" (Macmillan, 1911). + + +Professor Watson ("Behavior," pp. 262-3) has an ingenious theory +as to the way in which habit arises out of random movements. I +think there is a reason why his theory cannot be regarded as +alone sufficient, but it seems not unlikely that it is partly +correct. Suppose, for the sake of simplicity, that there are just +ten random movements which may be made by the animal--say, ten +paths down which it may go--and that only one of these leads to +food, or whatever else represents success in the case in +question. Then the successful movement always occurs during the +animal's attempts, whereas each of the others, on the average, +occurs in only half the attempts. Thus the tendency to repeat a +previous performance (which is easily explicable without the +intervention of "consciousness") leads to a greater emphasis on +the successful movement than on any other, and in time causes it +alone to be performed. The objection to this view, if taken as +the sole explanation, is that on improvement ought to set in till +after the SECOND trial, whereas experiment shows that already at +the second attempt the animal does better than the first time. +Something further is, therefore, required to account for the +genesis of habit from random movements; but I see no reason to +suppose that what is further required involves "consciousness." + +Mr. Thorndike (op. cit., p. 244) formulates two "provisional laws +of acquired behaviour or learning," as follows: + +"The Law of Effect is that: Of several responses made to the same +situation, those which are accompanied or closely followed by +satisfaction to the animal will, other things being equal, be +more firmly connected with the situation, so that, when it +recurs, they will be more likely to recur; those which are +accompanied or closely followed by discomfort to the animal will, +other things being equal, have their connections with that +situation weakened, so that, when it recurs, they will be less +likely to occur. The greater the satisfaction or discomfort, the +greater the strengthening or weakening of the bond. + +"The Law of Exercise is that: Any response to a situation will, +other things being equal, be more strongly connected with the +situation in proportion to the number of times it has been +connected with that situation and to the average vigour and +duration of the connections." + +With the explanation to be presently given of the meaning of +"satisfaction" and "discomfort," there seems every reason to +accept these two laws. + +What is true of animals, as regards instinct and habit, is +equally true of men. But the higher we rise in the evolutionary +scale, broadly speaking, the greater becomes the power of +learning, and the fewer are the occasions when pure instinct is +exhibited unmodified in adult life. This applies with great force +to man, so much so that some have thought instinct less important +in the life of man than in that of animals. This, however, would +be a mistake. Learning is only possible when instinct supplies +the driving-force. The animals in cages, which gradually learn to +get out, perform random movements at first, which are purely +instinctive. But for these random movements, they would never +acquire the experience which afterwards enables them to produce +the right movement. (This is partly questioned by Hobhouse*-- +wrongly, I think.) Similarly, children learning to talk make all +sorts of sounds, until one day the right sound comes by accident. +It is clear that the original making of random sounds, without +which speech would never be learnt, is instinctive. I think we +may say the same of all the habits and aptitudes that we acquire +in all of them there has been present throughout some instinctive +activity, prompting at first rather inefficient movements, but +supplying the driving force while more and more effective methods +are being acquired. A cat which is hungry smells fish, and goes +to the larder. This is a thoroughly efficient method when there +is fish in the larder, and it is often successfully practised by +children. But in later life it is found that merely going to the +larder does not cause fish to be there; after a series of random +movements it is found that this result is to be caused by going +to the City in the morning and coming back in the evening. No one +would have guessed a priori that this movement of a middle-aged +man's body would cause fish to come out of the sea into his +larder, but experience shows that it does, and the middle-aged +man therefore continues to go to the City, just as the cat in the +cage continues to lift the latch when it has once found it. Of +course, in actual fact, human learning is rendered easier, though +psychologically more complex, through language; but at bottom +language does not alter the essential character of learning, or +of the part played by instinct in promoting learning. Language, +however, is a subject upon which I do not wish to speak until a +later lecture. + +* "Mind in Evolution" (Macmillan, 1915), pp. 236-237. + + +The popular conception of instinct errs by imagining it to be +infallible and preternaturally wise, as well as incapable of +modification. This is a complete delusion. Instinct, as a rule, +is very rough and ready, able to achieve its result under +ordinary circumstances, but easily misled by anything unusual. +Chicks follow their mother by instinct, but when they are quite +young they will follow with equal readiness any moving object +remotely resembling their mother, or even a human being (James, +"Psychology," ii, 396). Bergson, quoting Fabre, has made play +with the supposed extraordinary accuracy of the solitary wasp +Ammophila, which lays its eggs in a caterpillar. On this subject +I will quote from Drever's "Instinct in Man," p. 92: + +"According to Fabre's observations, which Bergson accepts, the +Ammophila stings its prey EXACTLY and UNERRINGLY in EACH of the +nervous centres. The result is that the caterpillar is paralyzed, +but not immediately killed, the advantage of this being that the +larva cannot be injured by any movement of the caterpillar, upon +which the egg is deposited, and is provided with fresh meat when +the time comes. + +"Now Dr. and Mrs. Peckham have shown that the sting of the wasp +is NOT UNERRING, as Fabre alleges, that the number of stings is +NOT CONSTANT, that sometimes the caterpillar is NOT PARALYZED, +and sometimes it is KILLED OUTRIGHT, and that THE DIFFERENT +CIRCUMSTANCES DO NOT APPARENTLY MAKE ANY DIFFERENCE TO THE LARVA, +which is not injured by slight movements of the caterpillar, nor +by consuming food decomposed rather than fresh caterpillar." + +This illustrates how love of the marvellous may mislead even so +careful an observer as Fabre and so eminent a philosopher as +Bergson. + +In the same chapter of Dr. Drever's book there are some +interesting examples of the mistakes made by instinct. I will +quote one as a sample: + +"The larva of the Lomechusa beetle eats the young of the ants, in +whose nest it is reared. Nevertheless, the ants tend the +Lomechusa larvae with the same care they bestow on their own +young. Not only so, but they apparently discover that the methods +of feeding, which suit their own larvae, would prove fatal to the +guests, and accordingly they change their whole system of +nursing" (loc. cit., p. 106). + +Semon ("Die Mneme," pp. 207-9) gives a good illustration of an +instinct growing wiser through experience. He relates how hunters +attract stags by imitating the sounds of other members of their +species, male or female, but find that the older a stag becomes +the more difficult it is to deceive him, and the more accurate +the imitation has to be. The literature of instinct is vast, and +illustrations might be multiplied indefinitely. The main points +as regards instinct, which need to be emphasized as against the +popular conceptions of it, are: + +(1) That instinct requires no prevision of the biological end +which it serves; + +(2) That instinct is only adapted to achieve this end in the +usual circumstances of the animal in question, and has no more +precision than is necessary for success AS A RULE; + +(3) That processes initiated by instinct often come to be +performed better after experience; + +(4) That instinct supplies the impulses to experimental movements +which are required for the process of learning; + +(5) That instincts in their nascent stages are easily modifiable, +and capable of being attached to various sorts of objects. + +All the above characteristics of instinct can be established by +purely external observation, except the fact that instinct does +not require prevision. This, though not strictly capable of being +PROVED by observation, is irresistibly suggested by the most +obvious phenomena. Who can believe, for example, that a new-born +baby is aware of the necessity of food for preserving life? Or +that insects, in laying eggs, are concerned for the preservation +of their species? The essence of instinct, one might say, is that +it provides a mechanism for acting without foresight in a manner +which is usually advantageous biologically. It is partly for this +reason that it is so important to understand the fundamental +position of instinct in prompting both animal and human +behaviour. + + + +LECTURE III. DESIRE AND FEELING + +Desire is a subject upon which, if I am not mistaken, true views +can only be arrived at by an almost complete reversal of the +ordinary unreflecting opinion. It is natural to regard desire as +in its essence an attitude towards something which is imagined, +not actual; this something is called the END or OBJECT of the +desire, and is said to be the PURPOSE of any action resulting +from the desire. We think of the content of the desire as being +just like the content of a belief, while the attitude taken up +towards the content is different. According to this theory, when +we say: "I hope it will rain," or "I expect it will rain," we +express, in the first case, a desire, and in the second, a +belief, with an identical content, namely, the image of rain. It +would be easy to say that, just as belief is one kind of feeling +in relation to this content, so desire is another kind. According +to this view, what comes first in desire is something imagined, +with a specific feeling related to it, namely, that specific +feeling which we call "desiring" it. The discomfort associated +with unsatisfied desire, and the actions which aim at satisfying +desire, are, in this view, both of them effects of the desire. I +think it is fair to say that this is a view against which common +sense would not rebel; nevertheless, I believe it to be radically +mistaken. It cannot be refuted logically, but various facts can +be adduced which make it gradually less simple and plausible, +until at last it turns out to be easier to abandon it wholly and +look at the matter in a totally different way. + +The first set of facts to be adduced against the common sense +view of desire are those studied by psycho-analysis. In all human +beings, but most markedly in those suffering from hysteria and +certain forms of insanity, we find what are called "unconscious" +desires, which are commonly regarded as showing self-deception. +Most psycho-analysts pay little attention to the analysis of +desire, being interested in discovering by observation what it is +that people desire, rather than in discovering what actually +constitutes desire. I think the strangeness of what they report +would be greatly diminished if it were expressed in the language +of a behaviourist theory of desire, rather than in the language +of every-day beliefs. The general description of the sort of +phenomena that bear on our present question is as follows: A +person states that his desires are so-and-so, and that it is +these desires that inspire his actions; but the outside observer +perceives that his actions are such as to realize quite different +ends from those which he avows, and that these different ends are +such as he might be expected to desire. Generally they are less +virtuous than his professed desires, and are therefore less +agreeable to profess than these are. It is accordingly supposed +that they really exist as desires for ends, but in a subconscious +part of the mind, which the patient refuses to admit into +consciousness for fear of having to think ill of himself. There +are no doubt many cases to which such a supposition is applicable +without obvious artificiality. But the deeper the Freudians delve +into the underground regions of instinct, the further they travel +from anything resembling conscious desire, and the less possible +it becomes to believe that only positive self-deception conceals +from us that we really wish for things which are abhorrent to our +explicit life. + +In the cases in question we have a conflict between the outside +observer and the patient's consciousness. The whole tendency of +psycho-analysis is to trust the outside observer rather than the +testimony of introspection. I believe this tendency to be +entirely right, but to demand a re-statement of what constitutes +desire, exhibiting it as a causal law of our actions, not as +something actually existing in our minds. + +But let us first get a clearer statement of the essential +characteristic of the phenomena. + +A person, we find, states that he desires a certain end A, and +that he is acting with a view to achieving it. We observe, +however, that his actions are such as are likely to achieve a +quite different end B, and that B is the sort of end that often +seems to be aimed at by animals and savages, though civilized +people are supposed to have discarded it. We sometimes find also +a whole set of false beliefs, of such a kind as to persuade the +patient that his actions are really a means to A, when in fact +they are a means to B. For example, we have an impulse to inflict +pain upon those whom we hate; we therefore believe that they are +wicked, and that punishment will reform them. This belief enables +us to act upon the impulse to inflict pain, while believing that +we are acting upon the desire to lead sinners to repentance. It +is for this reason that the criminal law has been in all ages +more severe than it would have been if the impulse to ameliorate +the criminal had been what really inspired it. It seems simple to +explain such a state of affairs as due to "self-deception," but +this explanation is often mythical. Most people, in thinking +about punishment, have had no more need to hide their vindictive +impulses from themselves than they have had to hide the +exponential theorem. Our impulses are not patent to a casual +observation, but are only to be discovered by a scientific study +of our actions, in the course of which we must regard ourselves +as objectively as we should the motions of the planets or the +chemical reactions of a new element. + +The study of animals reinforces this conclusion, and is in many +ways the best preparation for the analysis of desire. In animals +we are not troubled by the disturbing influence of ethical +considerations. In dealing with human beings, we are perpetually +distracted by being told that such-and-such a view is gloomy or +cynical or pessimistic: ages of human conceit have built up such +a vast myth as to our wisdom and virtue that any intrusion of the +mere scientific desire to know the facts is instantly resented by +those who cling to comfortable illusions. But no one cares +whether animals are virtuous or not, and no one is under the +delusion that they are rational. Moreover, we do not expect them +to be so "conscious," and are prepared to admit that their +instincts prompt useful actions without any prevision of the ends +which they achieve. For all these reasons, there is much in the +analysis of mind which is more easily discovered by the study of +animals than by the observation of human beings. + +We all think that, by watching the behaviour of animals, we can +discover more or less what they desire. If this is the case--and +I fully agree that it is--desire must be capable of being +exhibited in actions, for it is only the actions of animals that +we can observe. They MAY have minds in which all sorts of things +take place, but we can know nothing about their minds except by +means of inferences from their actions; and the more such +inferences are examined, the more dubious they appear. It would +seem, therefore, that actions alone must be the test of the +desires of animals. From this it is an easy step to the +conclusion that an animal's desire is nothing but a +characteristic of a certain series of actions, namely, those +which would be commonly regarded as inspired by the desire in +question. And when it has been shown that this view affords a +satisfactory account of animal desires, it is not difficult to +see that the same explanation is applicable to the desires of +human beings. + +We judge easily from the behaviour of an animal of a familiar +kind whether it is hungry or thirsty, or pleased or displeased, +or inquisitive or terrified. The verification of our judgment, so +far as verification is possible, must be derived from the +immediately succeeding actions of the animal. Most people would +say that they infer first something about the animal's state of +mind--whether it is hungry or thirsty and so on--and thence +derive their expectations as to its subsequent conduct. But this +detour through the animal's supposed mind is wholly unnecessary. +We can say simply: The animal's behaviour during the last minute +has had those characteristics which distinguish what is called +"hunger," and it is likely that its actions during the next +minute will be similar in this respect, unless it finds food, or +is interrupted by a stronger impulse, such as fear. An animal +which is hungry is restless, it goes to the places where food is +often to be found, it sniffs with its nose or peers with its eyes +or otherwise increases the sensitiveness of its sense-organs; as +soon as it is near enough to food for its sense-organs to be +affected, it goes to it with all speed and proceeds to eat; after +which, if the quantity of food has been sufficient, its whole +demeanour changes it may very likely lie down and go to sleep. +These things and others like them are observable phenomena +distinguishing a hungry animal from one which is not hungry. The +characteristic mark by which we recognize a series of actions +which display hunger is not the animal's mental state, which we +cannot observe, but something in its bodily behaviour; it is this +observable trait in the bodily behaviour that I am proposing to +call "hunger," not some possibly mythical and certainly +unknowable ingredient of the animal's mind. + +Generalizing what occurs in the case of hunger, we may say that +what we call a desire in an animal is always displayed in a cycle +of actions having certain fairly well marked characteristics. +There is first a state of activity, consisting, with +qualifications to be mentioned presently, of movements likely to +have a certain result; these movements, unless interrupted, +continue until the result is achieved, after which there is +usually a period of comparative quiescence. A cycle of actions of +this sort has marks by which it is broadly distinguished from the +motions of dead matter. The most notable of these marks are--(1) +the appropriateness of the actions for the realization of a +certain result; (2) the continuance of action until that result +has been achieved. Neither of these can be pressed beyond a +point. Either may be (a) to some extent present in dead matter, +and (b) to a considerable extent absent in animals, while +vegetable are intermediate, and display only a much fainter form +of the behaviour which leads us to attribute desire to animals. +(a) One might say rivers "desire" the sea water, roughly +speaking, remains in restless motion until it reaches either the +sea or a place from which it cannot issue without going uphill, +and therefore we might say that this is what it wishes while it +is flowing. We do not say so, because we can account for the +behaviour of water by the laws of physics; and if we knew more +about animals, we might equally cease to attribute desires to +them, since we might find physical and chemical reactions +sufficient to account for their behaviour. (b) Many of the +movements of animals do not exhibit the characteristics of the +cycles which seem to embody desire. There are first of all the +movements which are "mechanical," such as slipping and falling, +where ordinary physical forces operate upon the animal's body +almost as if it were dead matter. An animal which falls over a +cliff may make a number of desperate struggles while it is in the +air, but its centre of gravity will move exactly as it would if +the animal were dead. In this case, if the animal is killed at +the end of the fall, we have, at first sight, just the +characteristics of a cycle of actions embodying desire, namely, +restless movement until the ground is reached, and then +quiescence. Nevertheless, we feel no temptation to say that the +animal desired what occurred, partly because of the obviously +mechanical nature of the whole occurrence, partly because, when +an animal survives a fall, it tends not to repeat the experience. + +There may be other reasons also, but of them I do not wish to +speak yet. Besides mechanical movements, there are interrupted +movements, as when a bird, on its way to eat your best peas, is +frightened away by the boy whom you are employing for that +purpose. If interruptions are frequent and completion of cycles +rare, the characteristics by which cycles are observed may become +so blurred as to be almost unrecognizable. The result of these +various considerations is that the differences between animals +and dead matter, when we confine ourselves to external +unscientific observation of integral behaviour, are a matter of +degree and not very precise. It is for this reason that it has +always been possible for fanciful people to maintain that even +stocks and stones have some vague kind of soul. The evidence that +animals have souls is so very shaky that, if it is assumed to be +conclusive, one might just as well go a step further and extend +the argument by analogy to all matter. Nevertheless, in spite of +vagueness and doubtful cases, the existence of cycles in the +behaviour of animals is a broad characteristic by which they are +prima facie distinguished from ordinary matter; and I think it is +this characteristic which leads us to attribute desires to +animals, since it makes their behaviour resemble what we do when +(as we say) we are acting from desire. + +I shall adopt the following definitions for describing the +behaviour of animals: + +A "behaviour-cycle" is a series of voluntary or reflex movements +of an animal, tending to cause a certain result, and continuing +until that result is caused, unless they are interrupted by +death, accident, or some new behaviour-cycle. (Here "accident" +may be defined as the intervention of purely physical laws +causing mechanical movements.) + +The "purpose" of a behaviour-cycle is the result which brings it +to an end, normally by a condition of temporary +quiescence-provided there is no interruption. + +An animal is said to "desire" the purpose of a behaviour cycle +while the behaviour-cycle is in progress. + +I believe these definitions to be adequate also to human purposes +and desires, but for the present I am only occupied with animals +and with what can be learnt by external observation. I am very +anxious that no ideas should be attached to the words "purpose" +and "desire" beyond those involved in the above definitions. + +We have not so far considered what is the nature of the initial +stimulus to a behaviour-cycle. Yet it is here that the usual view +of desire seems on the strongest ground. The hungry animal goes +on making movements until it gets food; it seems natural, +therefore, to suppose that the idea of food is present throughout +the process, and that the thought of the end to be achieved sets +the whole process in motion. Such a view, however, is obviously +untenable in many cases, especially where instinct is concerned. +Take, for example, reproduction and the rearing of the young. +Birds mate, build a nest, lay eggs in it, sit on the eggs, feed +the young birds, and care for them until they are fully grown. It +is totally impossible to suppose that this series of actions, +which constitutes one behaviour-cycle, is inspired by any +prevision of the end, at any rate the first time it is +performed.* We must suppose that the stimulus to the performance +of each act is an impulsion from behind, not an attraction from +the future. The bird does what it does, at each stage, because it +has an impulse to that particular action, not because it +perceives that the whole cycle of actions will contribute to the +preservation of the species. The same considerations apply to +other instincts. A hungry animal feels restless, and is led by +instinctive impulses to perform the movements which give it +nourishment; but the act of seeking food is not sufficient +evidence from which to conclude that the animal has the thought +of food in its "mind." + +* For evidence as to birds' nests, cf. Semon, "Die Mneme," pp. +209, 210. + + +Coming now to human beings, and to what we know about our own +actions, it seems clear that what, with us, sets a +behaviour-cycle in motion is some sensation of the sort which we +call disagreeable. Take the case of hunger: we have first an +uncomfortable feeling inside, producing a disinclination to sit +still, a sensitiveness to savoury smells, and an attraction +towards any food that there may be in our neighbourhood. At any +moment during this process we may become aware that we are +hungry, in the sense of saying to ourselves, "I am hungry"; but +we may have been acting with reference to food for some time +before this moment. While we are talking or reading, we may eat +in complete unconsciousness; but we perform the actions of eating +just as we should if we were conscious, and they cease when our +hunger is appeased. What we call "consciousness" seems to be a +mere spectator of the process; even when it issues orders, they +are usually, like those of a wise parent, just such as would have +been obeyed even if they had not been given. This view may seem +at first exaggerated, but the more our so-called volitions and +their causes are examined, the more it is forced upon us. The +part played by words in all this is complicated, and a potent +source of confusions; I shall return to it later. For the +present, I am still concerned with primitive desire, as it exists +in man, but in the form in which man shows his affinity to his +animal ancestors. + +Conscious desire is made up partly of what is essential to +desire, partly of beliefs as to what we want. It is important to +be clear as to the part which does not consist of beliefs. + +The primitive non-cognitive element in desire seems to be a push, +not a pull, an impulsion away from the actual, rather than an +attraction towards the ideal. Certain sensations and other mental +occurrences have a property which we call discomfort; these cause +such bodily movements as are likely to lead to their cessation. +When the discomfort ceases, or even when it appreciably +diminishes, we have sensations possessing a property which we +call PLEASURE. Pleasurable sensations either stimulate no action +at all, or at most stimulate such action as is likely to prolong +them. I shall return shortly to the consideration of what +discomfort and pleasure are in themselves; for the present, it is +their connection with action and desire that concerns us. +Abandoning momentarily the standpoint of behaviourism, we may +presume that hungry animals experience sensations involving +discomfort, and stimulating such movements as seem likely to +bring them to the food which is outside the cages. When they have +reached the food and eaten it, their discomfort ceases and their +sensations become pleasurable. It SEEMS, mistakenly, as if the +animals had had this situation in mind throughout, when in fact +they have been continually pushed by discomfort. And when an +animal is reflective, like some men, it comes to think that it +had the final situation in mind throughout; sometimes it comes to +know what situation will bring satisfaction, so that in fact the +discomfort does bring the thought of what will allay it. +Nevertheless the sensation involving discomfort remains the prime +mover. + +This brings us to the question of the nature of discomfort and +pleasure. Since Kant it has been customary to recognize three +great divisions of mental phenomena, which are typified by +knowledge, desire and feeling, where "feeling" is used to mean +pleasure and discomfort. Of course, "knowledge" is too definite a +word: the states of mind concerned are grouped together as +"cognitive," and are to embrace not only beliefs, but +perceptions, doubts, and the understanding of concepts. "Desire," +also, is narrower than what is intended: for example, WILL is to +be included in this category, and in fact every thing that +involves any kind of striving, or "conation" as it is technically +called. I do not myself believe that there is any value in this +threefold division of the contents of mind. I believe that +sensations (including images) supply all the "stuff" of the mind, +and that everything else can be analysed into groups of +sensations related in various ways, or characteristics of +sensations or of groups of sensations. As regards belief, I shall +give grounds for this view in later lectures. As regards desires, +I have given some grounds in this lecture. For the present, it is +pleasure and discomfort that concern us. There are broadly three +theories that might be held in regard to them. We may regard them +as separate existing items in those who experience them, or we +may regard them as intrinsic qualities of sensations and other +mental occurrences, or we may regard them as mere names for the +causal characteristics of the occurrences which are uncomfortable +or pleasant. The first of these theories, namely, that which +regards discomfort and pleasure as actual contents in those who +experience them, has, I think, nothing conclusive to be said in +its favour.* It is suggested chiefly by an ambiguity in the word +"pain," which has misled many people, including Berkeley, whom it +supplied with one of his arguments for subjective idealism. We +may use "pain" as the opposite of "pleasure," and "painful" as +the opposite of "pleasant," or we may use "pain" to mean a +certain sort of sensation, on a level with the sensations of heat +and cold and touch. The latter use of the word has prevailed in +psychological literature, and it is now no longer used as the +opposite of "pleasure." Dr. H. Head, in a recent publication, has +stated this distinction as follows:** + +* Various arguments in its favour are advanced by A. Wohlgemuth, +"On the feelings and their neural correlate, with an examination +of the nature of pain," "British Journal of Psychology," viii, 4. +(1917). But as these arguments are largely a reductio ad absurdum +of other theories, among which that which I am advocating is not +included, I cannot regard them as establishing their contention. + +** "Sensation and the Cerebral Cortex," "Brain," vol. xli, part +ii (September, 1918), p. 90. Cf. also Wohlgemuth, loc. cit. pp. +437, 450. + + +"It is necessary at the outset to distinguish clearly between +'discomfort' and 'pain.' Pain is a distinct sensory quality +equivalent to heat and cold, and its intensity can be roughly +graded according to the force expended in stimulation. +Discomfort, on the other hand, is that feeling-tone which is +directly opposed to pleasure. It may accompany sensations not in +themselves essentially painful; as for instance that produced by +tickling the sole of the foot. The reaction produced by repeated +pricking contains both these elements; for it evokes that sensory +quality known as pain, accompanied by a disagreeable +feeling-tone, which we have called discomfort. On the other hand, +excessive pressure, except when applied directly over some +nerve-trunk, tends to excite more discomfort than pain." + +The confusion between discomfort and pain has made people regard +discomfort as a more substantial thing than it is, and this in +turn has reacted upon the view taken of pleasure, since +discomfort and pleasure are evidently on a level in this respect. +As soon as discomfort is clearly distinguished from the sensation +of pain, it becomes more natural to regard discomfort and +pleasure as properties of mental occurrences than to regard them +as separate mental occurrences on their own account. I shall +therefore dismiss the view that they are separate mental +occurrences, and regard them as properties of such experiences as +would be called respectively uncomfortable and pleasant. + +It remains to be examined whether they are actual qualities of +such occurrences, or are merely differences as to causal +properties. I do not myself see any way of deciding this +question; either view seems equally capable of accounting for the +facts. If this is true, it is safer to avoid the assumption that +there are such intrinsic qualities of mental occurrences as are +in question, and to assume only the causal differences which are +undeniable. Without condemning the intrinsic theory, we can +define discomfort and pleasure as consisting in causal +properties, and say only what will hold on either of the two +theories. Following this course, we shall say: + +"Discomfort" is a property of a sensation or other mental +occurrence, consisting in the fact that the occurrence in +question stimulates voluntary or reflex movements tending to +produce some more or less definite change involving the cessation +of the occurrence. + +"Pleasure" is a property of a sensation or other mental +occurrence, consisting in the fact that the occurrence in +question either does not stimulate any voluntary or reflex +movement, or, if it does, stimulates only such as tend to prolong +the occurrence in question.* + +* Cf. Thorndike, op. cit., p. 243. + + +"Conscious" desire, which we have now to consider, consists of +desire in the sense hitherto discussed, together with a true +belief as to its "purpose," i.e. as to the state of affairs that +will bring quiescence with cessation of the discomfort. If our +theory of desire is correct, a belief as to its purpose may very +well be erroneous, since only experience can show what causes a +discomfort to cease. When the experience needed is common and +simple, as in the case of hunger, a mistake is not very probable. +But in other cases--e.g. erotic desire in those who have had +little or no experience of its satisfaction--mistakes are to be +expected, and do in fact very often occur. The practice of +inhibiting impulses, which is to a great extent necessary to +civilized life, makes mistakes easier, by preventing experience +of the actions to which a desire would otherwise lead, and by +often causing the inhibited impulses themselves to be unnoticed +or quickly forgotten. The perfectly natural mistakes which thus +arise constitute a large proportion of what is, mistakenly in +part, called self-deception, and attributed by Freud to the +"censor." + +But there is a further point which needs emphasizing, namely, +that a belief that something is desired has often a tendency to +cause the very desire that is believed in. It is this fact that +makes the effect of "consciousness" on desire so complicated. + +When we believe that we desire a certain state of affairs, that +often tends to cause a real desire for it. This is due partly to +the influence of words upon our emotions, in rhetoric for +example, and partly to the general fact that discomfort normally +belongs to the belief that we desire such-and-such a thing that +we do not possess. Thus what was originally a false opinion as to +the object of a desire acquires a certain truth: the false +opinion generates a secondary subsidiary desire, which +nevertheless becomes real. Let us take an illustration. Suppose +you have been jilted in a way which wounds your vanity. Your +natural impulsive desire will be of the sort expressed in Donne's +poem: + + When by thy scorn, O Murderess, I am dead, + +in which he explains how he will haunt the poor lady as a ghost, +and prevent her from enjoying a moment's peace. But two things +stand in the way of your expressing yourself so naturally: on the +one hand, your vanity, which will not acknowledge how hard you +are hit; on the other hand, your conviction that you are a +civilized and humane person, who could not possibly indulge so +crude a desire as revenge. You will therefore experience a +restlessness which will at first seem quite aimless, but will +finally resolve itself in a conscious desire to change your +profession, or go round the world, or conceal your identity and +live in Putney, like Arnold Bennett's hero. Although the prime +cause of this desire is a false judgment as to your previous +unconscious desire, yet the new conscious desire has its own +derivative genuineness, and may influence your actions to the +extent of sending you round the world. The initial mistake, +however, will have effects of two kinds. First, in uncontrolled +moments, under the influence of sleepiness or drink or delirium, +you will say things calculated to injure the faithless deceiver. +Secondly, you will find travel disappointing, and the East less +fascinating than you had hoped--unless, some day, you hear that +the wicked one has in turn been jilted. If this happens, you will +believe that you feel sincere sympathy, but you will suddenly be +much more delighted than before with the beauties of tropical +islands or the wonders of Chinese art. A secondary desire, +derived from a false judgment as to a primary desire, has its own +power of influencing action, and is therefore a real desire +according to our definition. But it has not the same power as a +primary desire of bringing thorough satisfaction when it is +realized; so long as the primary desire remains unsatisfied, +restlessness continues in spite of the secondary desire's +success. Hence arises a belief in the vanity of human wishes: the +vain wishes are those that are secondary, but mistaken beliefs +prevent us from realizing that they are secondary. + +What may, with some propriety, be called self-deception arises +through the operation of desires for beliefs. We desire many +things which it is not in our power to achieve: that we should be +universally popular and admired, that our work should be the +wonder of the age, and that the universe should be so ordered as +to bring ultimate happiness to all, though not to our enemies +until they have repented and been purified by suffering. Such +desires are too large to be achieved through our own efforts. But +it is found that a considerable portion of the satisfaction which +these things would bring us if they were realized is to be +achieved by the much easier operation of believing that they are +or will be realized. This desire for beliefs, as opposed to +desire for the actual facts, is a particular case of secondary +desire, and, like all secondary desire its satisfaction does not +lead to a complete cessation of the initial discomfort. +Nevertheless, desire for beliefs, as opposed to desire for facts, +is exceedingly potent both individually and socially. According +to the form of belief desired, it is called vanity, optimism, or +religion. Those who have sufficient power usually imprison or put +to death any one who tries to shake their faith in their own +excellence or in that of the universe; it is for this reason that +seditious libel and blasphemy have always been, and still are, +criminal offences. + +It is very largely through desires for beliefs that the primitive +nature of desire has become so hidden, and that the part played +by consciousness has been so confusing and so exaggerated. + +We may now summarize our analysis of desire and feeling. + +A mental occurrence of any kind--sensation, image, belief, or +emotion--may be a cause of a series of actions, continuing, +unless interrupted, until some more or less definite state of +affairs is realized. Such a series of actions we call a +"behaviour-cycle." The degree of definiteness may vary greatly: +hunger requires only food in general, whereas the sight of a +particular piece of food raises a desire which requires the +eating of that piece of food. The property of causing such a +cycle of occurrences is called "discomfort"; the property of the +mental occurrences in which the cycle ends is called " pleasure." +The actions constituting the cycle must not be purely mechanical, +i.e. they must be bodily movements in whose causation the special +properties of nervous tissue are involved. The cycle ends in a +condition of quiescence, or of such action as tends only to +preserve the status quo. The state of affairs in which this +condition of quiescence is achieved is called the "purpose" of +the cycle, and the initial mental occurrence involving discomfort +is called a "desire" for the state of affairs that brings +quiescence. A desire is called "conscious" when it is accompanied +by a true belief as to the state of affairs that will bring +quiescence; otherwise it is called "unconscious." All primitive +desire is unconscious, and in human beings beliefs as to the +purposes of desires are often mistaken. These mistaken beliefs +generate secondary desires, which cause various interesting +complications in the psychology of human desire, without +fundamentally altering the character which it shares with animal +desire. + + + +LECTURE IV. INFLUENCE OF PAST HISTORY ON PRESENT OCCURRENCES IN +LIVING ORGANISMS + +In this lecture we shall be concerned with a very general +characteristic which broadly, though not absolutely, +distinguishes the behaviour of living organisms from that of dead +matter. The characteristic in question is this: + +The response of an organism to a given stimulus is very often +dependent upon the past history of the organism, and not merely +upon the stimulus and the HITHERTO DISCOVERABLE present state of +the organism. + +This characteristic is embodied in the saying "a burnt child +fears the fire." The burn may have left no visible traces, yet it +modifies the reaction of the child in the presence of fire. It is +customary to assume that, in such cases, the past operates by +modifying the structure of the brain, not directly. I have no +wish to suggest that this hypothesis is false; I wish only to +point out that it is a hypothesis. At the end of the present +lecture I shall examine the grounds in its favour. If we confine +ourselves to facts which have been actually observed, we must say +that past occurrences, in addition to the present stimulus and +the present ascertainable condition of the organism, enter into +the causation of the response. + +The characteristic is not wholly confined to living organisms. +For example, magnetized steel looks just like steel which has not +been magnetized, but its behaviour is in some ways different. In +the case of dead matter, however, such phenomena are less +frequent and important than in the case of living organisms, and +it is far less difficult to invent satisfactory hypotheses as to +the microscopic changes of structure which mediate between the +past occurrence and the present changed response. In the case of +living organisms, practically everything that is distinctive both +of their physical and of their mental behaviour is bound up with +this persistent influence of the past. Further, speaking broadly, +the change in response is usually of a kind that is biologically +advantageous to the organism. + +Following a suggestion derived from Semon ("Die Mneme," Leipzig, +1904; 2nd edition, 1908, English translation, Allen & Unwin, +1921; "Die mnemischen Empfindungen," Leipzig, l909), we will give +the name of "mnemic phenomena" to those responses of an organism +which, so far as hitherto observed facts are concerned, can only +be brought under causal laws by including past occurrences in the +history of the organism as part of the causes of the present +response. I do not mean merely--what would always be the +case--that past occurrences are part of a CHAIN of causes leading +to the present event. I mean that, in attempting to state the +PROXIMATE cause of the present event, some past event or events +must be included, unless we take refuge in hypothetical +modifications of brain structure.) For example: you smell +peat-smoke, and you recall some occasion when you smelt it +before. The cause of your recollection, so far as hitherto observ +able phenomena are concerned, consists both of the peat smoke +(present stimulus) and of the former occasion (past experience). +The same stimulus will not produce the same recollection in +another man who did not share your former experience, although +the former experience left no OBSERVABLE traces in the structure +of the brain. According to the maxim "same cause, same effect," +we cannot therefore regard the peat-smoke alone as the cause of +your recollection, since it does not have the same effect in +other cases. The cause of your recollection must be both the +peat-smoke and the past occurrence. Accordingly your recollection +is an instance of what we are calling "mnemic phenomena." + +Before going further, it will be well to give illustrations of +different classes of mnemic phenomena. + +(a) ACQUIRED HABITS.--In Lecture II we saw how animals can learn +by experience how to get out of cages or mazes, or perform other +actions which are useful to them but not provided for by their +instincts alone. A cat which is put into a cage of which it has +had experience behaves differently from the way in which it +behaved at first. We can easily invent hypotheses, which are +quite likely to be true, as to connections in the brain caused by +past experience, and themselves causing the different response. +But the observable fact is that the stimulus of being in the cage +produces differing results with repetition, and that the +ascertainable cause of the cat's behaviour is not merely the cage +and its own ascertainable organization, but also its past history +in regard to the cage. From our present point of view, the matter +is independent of the question whether the cat's behaviour is due +to some mental fact called "knowledge," or displays a merely +bodily habit. Our habitual knowledge is not always in our minds, +but is called up by the appropriate stimuli. If we are asked +"What is the capital of France?" we answer "Paris," because of +past experience; the past experience is as essential as the +present question in the causation of our response. Thus all our +habitual knowledge consists of acquired habits, and comes under +the head of mnemic phenomena. + +(b) IMAGES.--I shall have much to say about images in a later +lecture; for the present I am merely concerned with them in so +far as they are "copies" of past sensations. When you hear New +York spoken of, some image probably comes into your mind, either +of the place itself (if you have been there), or of some picture +of it (if you have not). The image is due to your past +experience, as well as to the present stimulus of the words "New +York." Similarly, the images you have in dreams are all dependent +upon your past experience, as well as upon the present stimulus +to dreaming. It is generally believed that all images, in their +simpler parts, are copies of sensations; if so, their mnemic +character is evident. This is important, not only on its own +account, but also because, as we shall see later, images play an +essential part in what is called "thinking." + +(c) ASSOCIATION.--The broad fact of association, on the mental +side, is that when we experience something which we have +experienced before, it tends to call up the context of the former +experience. The smell of peat-smoke recalling a former scene is +an instance which we discussed a moment ago. This is obviously a +mnemic phenomenon. There is also a more purely physical +association, which is indistinguishable from physical habit. This +is the kind studied by Mr. Thorndike in animals, where a certain +stimulus is associated with a certain act. This is the sort which +is taught to soldiers in drilling, for example. In such a case +there need not be anything mental, but merely a habit of the +body. There is no essential distinction between association and +habit, and the observations which we made concerning habit as a +mnemic phenomenon are equally applicable to association. + +(d) NON-SENSATIONAL ELEMENTS IN PERCEPTION.--When we perceive any +object of a familiar kind, much of what appears subjectively to +be immediately given is really derived from past experience. When +we see an object, say a penny, we seem to be aware of its "real" +shape we have the impression of something circular, not of +something elliptical. In learning to draw, it is necessary to +acquire the art of representing things according to the +sensation, not according to the perception. And the visual +appearance is filled out with feeling of what the object would be +like to touch, and so on. This filling out and supplying of the +"real" shape and so on consists of the most usual correlates of +the sensational core in our perception. It may happen that, in +the particular case, the real correlates are unusual; for +example, if what we are seeing is a carpet made to look like +tiles. If so, the non-sensational part of our perception will be +illusory, i.e. it will supply qualities which the object in +question does not in fact have. But as a rule objects do have the +qualities added by perception, which is to be expected, since +experience of what is usual is the cause of the addition. If our +experience had been different, we should not fill out sensation +in the same way, except in so far as the filling out is +instinctive, not acquired. It would seem that, in man, all that +makes up space perception, including the correlation of sight and +touch and so on, is almost entirely acquired. In that case there +is a large mnemic element in all the common perceptions by means +of which we handle common objects. And, to take another kind of +instance, imagine what our astonishment would be if we were to +hear a cat bark or a dog mew. This emotion would be dependent +upon past experience, and would therefore be a mnemic phenomenon +according to the definition. + +(e) MEMORY AS KNOWLEDGE.--The kind of memory of which I am now +speaking is definite knowledge of some past event in one's own +experience. From time to time we remember things that have +happened to us, because something in the present reminds us of +them. Exactly the same present fact would not call up the same +memory if our past experience had been different. Thus our +remembering is caused by-- + +(1) The present stimulus, + +(2) The past occurrence. + +It is therefore a mnemic phenomenon according to our definition. +A definition of "mnemic phenomena" which did not include memory +would, of course, be a bad one. The point of the definition is +not that it includes memory, but that it includes it as one of a +class of phenomena which embrace all that is characteristic in +the subject matter of psychology. + +(f) EXPERIENCE.--The word "experience" is often used very +vaguely. James, as we saw, uses it to cover the whole primal +stuff of the world, but this usage seems objection able, since, +in a purely physical world, things would happen without there +being any experience. It is only mnemic phenomena that embody +experience. We may say that an animal "experiences" an occurrence +when this occurrence modifies the animal's subsequent behaviour, +i.e. when it is the mnemic portion of the cause of future +occurrences in the animal's life. The burnt child that fears the +fire has "experienced" the fire, whereas a stick that has been +thrown on and taken off again has not "experienced" anything, +since it offers no more resistance than before to being thrown +on. The essence of "experience" is the modification of behaviour +produced by what is experienced. We might, in fact, define one +chain of experience, or one biography, as a series of occurrences +linked by mnemic causation. I think it is this characteristic, +more than any other, that distinguishes sciences dealing with +living organisms from physics. + +The best writer on mnemic phenomena known to me is Richard Semon, +the fundamental part of whose theory I shall endeavour to +summarize before going further: + +When an organism, either animal or plant, is subjected to a +stimulus, producing in it some state of excitement, the removal +of the stimulus allows it to return to a condition of +equilibrium. But the new state of equilibrium is different from +the old, as may be seen by the changed capacity for reaction. The +state of equilibrium before the stimulus may be called the +"primary indifference-state"; that after the cessation of the +stimulus, the "secondary indifference-state." We define the +"engraphic effect" of a stimulus as the effect in making a +difference between the primary and secondary indifference-states, +and this difference itself we define as the "engram" due to the +stimulus. "Mnemic phenomena" are defined as those due to engrams; +in animals, they are specially associated with the nervous +system, but not exclusively, even in man. + +When two stimuli occur together, one of them, occurring +afterwards, may call out the reaction for the other also. We call +this an "ekphoric influence," and stimuli having this character +are called "ekphoric stimuli." In such a case we call the engrams +of the two stimuli "associated." All simultaneously generated +engrams are associated; there is also association of successively +aroused engrams, though this is reducible to simultaneous +association. In fact, it is not an isolated stimulus that leaves +an engram, but the totality of the stimuli at any moment; +consequently any portion of this totality tends, if it recurs, to +arouse the whole reaction which was aroused before. Semon holds +that engrams can be inherited, and that an animal's innate habits +may be due to the experience of its ancestors; on this subject he +refers to Samuel Butler. + +Semon formulates two "mnemic principles." The first, or "Law of +Engraphy," is as follows: "All simultaneous excitements in an +organism form a connected simultaneous excitement-complex, which +as such works engraphically, i.e. leaves behind a connected +engram-complex, which in so far forms a whole" ("Die mnemischen +Empfindungen," p. 146). The second mnemic principle, or "Law of +Ekphory," is as follows: "The partial return of the energetic +situation which formerly worked engraphically operates +ekphorically on a simultaneous engram-complex" (ib., p. 173). +These two laws together represent in part a hypothesis (the +engram), and in part an observable fact. The observable fact is +that, when a certain complex of stimuli has originally caused a +certain complex of reactions, the recurrence of part of the +stimuli tends to cause the recurrence of the whole of the +reactions. + +Semon's applications of his fundamental ideas in various +directions are interesting and ingenious. Some of them will +concern us later, but for the present it is the fundamental +character of mnemic phenomena that is in question. + +Concerning the nature of an engram, Semon confesses that at +present it is impossible to say more than that it must consist in +some material alteration in the body of the organism ("Die +mnemischen Empfindungen," p. 376). It is, in fact, hypothetical, +invoked for theoretical uses, and not an outcome of direct +observation. No doubt physiology, especially the disturbances of +memory through lesions in the brain, affords grounds for this +hypothesis; nevertheless it does remain a hypothesis, the +validity of which will be discussed at the end of this lecture. + +I am inclined to think that, in the present state of physiology, +the introduction of the engram does not serve to simplify the +account of mnemic phenomena. We can, I think, formulate the known +laws of such phenomena in terms, wholly, of observable facts, by +recognizing provisionally what we may call "mnemic causation." By +this I mean that kind of causation of which I spoke at the +beginning of this lecture, that kind, namely, in which the +proximate cause consists not merely of a present event, but of +this together with a past event. I do not wish to urge that this +form of causation is ultimate, but that, in the present state of +our knowledge, it affords a simplification, and enables us to +state laws of behaviour in less hypothetical terms than we should +otherwise have to employ. + +The clearest instance of what I mean is recollection of a past +event. What we observe is that certain present stimuli lead us to +recollect certain occurrences, but that at times when we are not +recollecting them, there is nothing discoverable in our minds +that could be called memory of them. Memories, as mental facts, +arise from time to time, but do not, so far as we can see, exist +in any shape while they are "latent." In fact, when we say that +they are "latent," we mean merely that they will exist under +certain circumstances. If, then, there is to be some standing +difference between the person who can remember a certain fact and +the person who cannot, that standing difference must be, not in +anything mental, but in the brain. It is quite probable that +there is such a difference in the brain, but its nature is +unknown and it remains hypothetical. Everything that has, so far, +been made matter of observation as regards this question can be +put together in the statement: When a certain complex of +sensations has occurred to a man, the recurrence of part of the +complex tends to arouse the recollection of the whole. In like +manner, we can collect all mnemic phenomena in living organisms +under a single law, which contains what is hitherto verifiable in +Semon's two laws. This single law is: + +IF A COMPLEX STIMULUS A HAS CAUSED A COMPLEX REACTION B IN AN +ORGANISM, THE OCCURRENCE OF A PART OF A ON A FUTURE OCCASION +TENDS TO CAUSE THE WHOLE REACTION B. + +This law would need to be supplemented by some account of the +influence of frequency, and so on; but it seems to contain the +essential characteristic of mnemic phenomena, without admixture +of anything hypothetical. + +Whenever the effect resulting from a stimulus to an organism +differs according to the past history of the organism, without +our being able actually to detect any relevant difference in its +present structure, we will speak of "mnemic causation," provided +we can discover laws embodying the influence of the past. In +ordinary physical causation, as it appears to common sense, we +have approximate uniformities of sequence, such as "lightning is +followed by thunder," "drunkenness is followed by headache," and +so on. None of these sequences are theoretically invariable, +since something may intervene to disturb them. In order to obtain +invariable physical laws, we have to proceed to differential +equations, showing the direction of change at each moment, not +the integral change after a finite interval, however short. But +for the purposes of daily life many sequences are to all in tents +and purposes invariable. With the behaviour of human beings, +however, this is by no means the case. If you say to an +Englishman, "You have a smut on your nose," he will proceed to +remove it, but there will be no such effect if you say the same +thing to a Frenchman who knows no English. The effect of words +upon the hearer is a mnemic phenomena, since it depends upon the +past experience which gave him understanding of the words. If +there are to be purely psychological causal laws, taking no +account of the brain and the rest of the body, they will have to +be of the form, not "X now causes Y now," but-- + +"A, B, C, . . . in the past, together with X now, cause Y now." +For it cannot be successfully maintained that our understanding +of a word, for example, is an actual existent content of the mind +at times when we are not thinking of the word. It is merely what +may be called a "disposition," i.e. it is capable of being +aroused whenever we hear the word or happen to think of it. A +"disposition" is not something actual, but merely the mnemic +portion of a mnemic causal law. + +In such a law as "A, B, C, . . . in the past, together with X +now, cause Y now," we will call A, B, C, . . . the mnemic cause, +X the occasion or stimulus, and Y the reaction. All cases in +which experience influences behaviour are instances of mnemic +causation. + +Believers in psycho-physical parallelism hold that psychology can +theoretically be freed entirely from all dependence on physiology +or physics. That is to say, they believe that every psychical +event has a psychical cause and a physical concomitant. If there +is to be parallelism, it is easy to prove by mathematical logic +that the causation in physical and psychical matters must be of +the same sort, and it is impossible that mnemic causation should +exist in psychology but not in physics. But if psychology is to +be independent of physiology, and if physiology can be reduced to +physics, it would seem that mnemic causation is essential in +psychology. Otherwise we shall be compelled to believe that all +our knowledge, all our store of images and memories, all our +mental habits, are at all times existing in some latent mental +form, and are not merely aroused by the stimuli which lead to +their display. This is a very difficult hypothesis. It seems to +me that if, as a matter of method rather than metaphysics, we +desire to obtain as much independence for psychology as is +practically feasible, we shall do better to accept mnemic +causation in psychology protem, and therefore reject parallelism, +since there is no good ground for admitting mnemic causation in +physics. + +It is perhaps worth while to observe that mnemic causation is +what led Bergson to deny that there is causation. at all in the +psychical sphere. He points out, very truly, that the same +stimulus, repeated, does not have the same consequences, and he +argues that this is contrary to the maxim, "same cause, same +effect." It is only necessary, however, to take account of past +occurrences and include them with the cause, in order to +re-establish the maxim, and the possibility of psychological +causal laws. The metaphysical conception of a cause lingers in +our manner of viewing causal laws: we want to be able to FEEL a +connection between cause and effect, and to be able to imagine +the cause as "operating." This makes us unwilling to regard +causal laws as MERELY observed uniformities of sequence; yet that +is all that science has to offer. To ask why such-and-such a kind +of sequence occurs is either to ask a meaningless question, or to +demand some more general kind of sequence which includes the one +in question. The widest empirical laws of sequence known at any +time can only be "explained" in the sense of being subsumed by +later discoveries under wider laws; but these wider laws, until +they in turn are subsumed, will remain brute facts, resting +solely upon observation, not upon some supposed inherent +rationality. + +There is therefore no a priori objection to a causal law in which +part of the cause has ceased to exist. To argue against such a +law on the ground that what is past cannot operate now, is to +introduce the old metaphysical notion of cause, for which science +can find no place. The only reason that could be validly alleged +against mnemic causation would be that, in fact, all the +phenomena can be explained without it. They are explained without +it by Semon's "engram," or by any theory which regards the +results of experience as embodied in modifications of the brain +and nerves. But they are not explained, unless with extreme +artificiality, by any theory which regards the latent effects of +experience as psychical rather than physical. Those who desire to +make psychology as far as possible independent of physiology +would do well, it seems to me, if they adopted mnemic causation. +For my part, however, I have no such desire, and I shall +therefore endeavour to state the grounds which occur to me in +favour of some such view as that of the "engram." + +One of the first points to be urged is that mnemic phenomena are +just as much to be found in physiology as in psychology. They are +even to be found in plants, as Sir Francis Darwin pointed out +(cf. Semon, "Die Mneme," 2nd edition, p. 28 n.). Habit is a +characteristic of the body at least as much as of the mind. We +should, therefore, be compelled to allow the intrusion of mnemic +causation, if admitted at all, into non-psychological regions, +which ought, one feels, to be subject only to causation of the +ordinary physical sort. The fact is that a great deal of what, at +first sight, distinguishes psychology from physics is found, on +examination, to be common to psychology and physiology; this +whole question of the influence of experience is a case in point. +Now it is possible, of course, to take the view advocated by +Professor J. S. Haldane, who contends that physiology is not +theoretically reducible to physics and chemistry.* But the weight +of opinion among physiologists appears to be against him on this +point; and we ought certainly to require very strong evidence +before admitting any such breach of continuity as between living +and dead matter. The argument from the existence of mnemic +phenomena in physiology must therefore be allowed a certain +weight against the hypothesis that mnemic causation is ultimate. + +* See his "The New Physiology and Other Addresses," Griffin, +1919, also the symposium, "Are Physical, Biological and +Psychological Categories Irreducible?" in "Life and Finite +Individuality," edited for the Aristotelian Society, with an +Introduction. By H. Wildon Carr, Williams & Norgate, 1918. + + +The argument from the connection of brain-lesions with loss of +memory is not so strong as it looks, though it has also, some +weight. What we know is that memory, and mnemic phenomena +generally, can be disturbed or destroyed by changes in the brain. +This certainly proves that the brain plays an essential part in +the causation of memory, but does not prove that a certain state +of the brain is, by itself, a sufficient condition for the +existence of memory. Yet it is this last that has to be proved. +The theory of the engram, or any similar theory, has to maintain +that, given a body and brain in a suitable state, a man will have +a certain memory, without the need of any further conditions. +What is known, however, is only that he will not have memories if +his body and brain are not in a suitable state. That is to say, +the appropriate state of body and brain is proved to be necessary +for memory, but not to be sufficient. So far, therefore, as our +definite knowledge goes, memory may require for its causation a +past occurrence as well as a certain present state of the brain. + +In order to prove conclusively that mnemic phenomena arise +whenever certain physiological conditions are fulfilled, we ought +to be able actually to see differences between the brain of a man +who speaks English and that of a man who speaks French, between +the brain of a man who has seen New York and can recall it, and +that of a man who has never seen that city. It may be that the +time will come when this will be possible, but at present we are +very far removed from it. At present, there is, so far as I am +aware, no good evidence that every difference between the +knowledge possessed by A and that possessed by B is paralleled by +some difference in their brains. We may believe that this is the +case, but if we do, our belief is based upon analogies and +general scientific maxims, not upon any foundation of detailed +observation. I am myself inclined, as a working hypothesis, to +adopt the belief in question, and to hold that past experience +only affects present behaviour through modifications of +physiological structure. But the evidence seems not quite +conclusive, so that I do not think we ought to forget the other +hypothesis, or to reject entirely the possibility that mnemic +causation may be the ultimate explanation of mnemic phenomena. I +say this, not because I think it LIKELY that mnemic causation is +ultimate, but merely because I think it POSSIBLE, and because it +often turns out important to the progress of science to remember +hypotheses which have previously seemed improbable. + + + +LECTURE V. PSYCHOLOGICAL AND PHYSICAL CAUSAL LAWS + +The traditional conception of cause and effect is one which +modern science shows to be fundamentally erroneous, and requiring +to be replaced by a quite different notion, that of LAWS OF +CHANGE. In the traditional conception, a particular event A +caused a particular event B, and by this it was implied that, +given any event B, some earlier event A could be discovered which +had a relation to it, such that-- + +(1) Whenever A occurred, it was followed by B; + +(2) In this sequence, there was something "necessary," not a mere +de facto occurrence of A first and then B. + +The second point is illustrated by the old discussion as to +whether it can be said that day causes night, on the ground that +day is always followed by night. The orthodox answer was that day +could not be called the cause of night, because it would not be +followed by night if the earth's rotation were to cease, or +rather to grow so slow that one complete rotation would take a +year. A cause, it was held, must be such that under no +conceivable circumstances could it fail to be followed by its +effect. + +As a matter of fact, such sequences as were sought by believers +in the traditional form of causation have not so far been found +in nature. Everything in nature is apparently in a state of +continuous change,* so that what we call one "event" turns out to +be really a process. If this event is to cause another event, the +two will have to be contiguous in time; for if there is any +interval between them, something may happen during that interval +to prevent the expected effect. Cause and effect, therefore, will +have to be temporally contiguous processes. It is difficult to +believe, at any rate where physical laws are concerned, that the +earlier part of the process which is the cause can make any +difference to the effect, so long as the later part of the +process which is the cause remains unchanged. Suppose, for +example, that a man dies of arsenic poisoning, we say that his +taking arsenic was the cause of death. But clearly the process by +which he acquired the arsenic is irrelevant: everything that +happened before he swallowed it may be ignored, since it cannot +alter the effect except in so far as it alters his condition at +the moment of taking the dose. But we may go further: swallowing +arsenic is not really the proximate cause of death, since a man +might be shot through the head immediately after taking the dose, +and then it would not be of arsenic that he would die. The +arsenic produces certain physiological changes, which take a +finite time before they end in death. The earlier parts of these +changes can be ruled out in the same way as we can rule out the +process by which the arsenic was acquired. Proceeding in this +way, we can shorten the process which we are calling the cause +more and more. Similarly we shall have to shorten the effect. It +may happen that immediately after the man's death his body is +blown to pieces by a bomb. We cannot say what will happen after +the man's death, through merely knowing that he has died as the +result of arsenic poisoning. Thus, if we are to take the cause as +one event and the effect as another, both must be shortened +indefinitely. The result is that we merely have, as the +embodiment of our causal law, a certain direction of change at +each moment. Hence we are brought to differential equations as +embodying causal laws. A physical law does not say "A will be +followed by B," but tells us what acceleration a particle will +have under given circumstances, i.e. it tells us how the +particle's motion is changing at each moment, not where the +particle will be at some future moment. + +* The theory of quanta suggests that the continuity is only +apparent. If so, we shall be able theoretically to reach events +which are not processes. But in what is directly observable there +is still apparent continuity, which justifies the above remarks +for the prevent. + + +Laws embodied in differential equations may possibly be exact, +but cannot be known to be so. All that we can know empirically is +approximate and liable to exceptions; the exact laws that are +assumed in physics are known to be somewhere near the truth, but +are not known to be true just as they stand. The laws that we +actually know empirically have the form of the traditional causal +laws, except that they are not to be regarded as universal or +necessary. "Taking arsenic is followed by death" is a good +empirical generalization; it may have exceptions, but they will +be rare. As against the professedly exact laws of physics, such +empirical generalizations have the advantage that they deal with +observable phenomena. We cannot observe infinitesimals, whether +in time or space; we do not even know whether time and space are +infinitely divisible. Therefore rough empirical generalizations +have a definite place in science, in spite of not being exact of +universal. They are the data for more exact laws, and the grounds +for believing that they are USUALLY true are stronger than the +grounds for believing that the more exact laws are ALWAYS true. + +Science starts, therefore, from generalizations of the form, "A +is usually followed by B." This is the nearest approach that can +be made to a causal law of the traditional sort. It may happen in +any particular instance that A is ALWAYS followed by B, but we +cannot know this, since we cannot foresee all the perfectly +possible circumstances that might make the sequence fail, or know +that none of them will actually occur. If, however, we know of a +very large number of cases in which A is followed by B, and few +or none in which the sequence fails, we shall in PRACTICE be +justified in saying "A causes B," provided we do not attach to +the notion of cause any of the metaphysical superstitions that +have gathered about the word. + +There is another point, besides lack of universality and +necessity, which it is important to realize as regards causes in +the above sense, and that is the lack of uniqueness. It is +generally assumed that, given any event, there is some one +phenomenon which is THE cause of the event in question. This +seems to be a mere mistake. Cause, in the only sense in which it +can be practically applied, means "nearly invariable antecedent." +We cannot in practice obtain an antecedent which is QUITE +invariable, for this would require us to take account of the +whole universe, since something not taken account of may prevent +the expected effect. We cannot distinguish, among nearly +invariable antecedents, one as THE cause, and the others as +merely its concomitants: the attempt to do this depends upon a +notion of cause which is derived from will, and will (as we shall +see later) is not at all the sort of thing that it is generally +supposed to be, nor is there any reason to think that in the +physical world there is anything even remotely analogous to what +will is supposed to be. If we could find one antecedent, and only +one, that was QUITE invariable, we could call that one THE cause +without introducing any notion derived from mistaken ideas about +will. But in fact we cannot find any antecedent that we know to +be quite invariable, and we can find many that are nearly so. For +example, men leave a factory for dinner when the hooter sounds at +twelve o'clock. You may say the hooter is THE cause of their +leaving. But innumerable other hooters in other factories, which +also always sound at twelve o'clock, have just as good a right to +be called the cause. Thus every event has many nearly invariable +antecedents, and therefore many antecedents which may be called +its cause. + +The laws of traditional physics, in the form in which they deal +with movements of matter or electricity, have an apparent +simplicity which somewhat conceals the empirical character of +what they assert. A piece of matter, as it is known empirically, +is not a single existing thing, but a system of existing things. +When several people simultaneously see the same table, they all +see something different; therefore "the" table, which they are +supposed all to see, must be either a hypothesis or a +construction. "The" table is to be neutral as between different +observers: it does not favour the aspect seen by one man at the +expense of that seen by another. It was natural, though to my +mind mistaken, to regard the "real" table as the common cause of +all the appearances which the table presents (as we say) to +different observers. But why should we suppose that there is some +one common cause of all these appearances? As we have just seen, +the notion of "cause" is not so reliable as to allow us to infer +the existence of something that, by its very nature, can never be +observed. + +Instead of looking for an impartial source, we can secure +neutrality by the equal representation of all parties. Instead of +supposing that there is some unknown cause, the "real" table, +behind the different sensations of those who are said to be +looking at the table, we may take the whole set of these +sensations (together possibly with certain other particulars) as +actually BEING the table. That is to say, the table which is +neutral as between different observers (actual and possible) is +the set of all those particulars which would naturally be called +"aspects" of the table from different points of view. (This is a +first approximation, modified later.) + +It may be said: If there is no single existent which is the +source of all these "aspects," how are they collected together? +The answer is simple: Just as they would be if there were such a +single existent. The supposed "real" table underlying its +appearances is, in any case, not itself perceived, but inferred, +and the question whether such-and-such a particular is an +"aspect" of this table is only to be settled by the connection of +the particular in question with the one or more particulars by +which the table is defined. That is to say, even if we assume a +"real" table, the particulars which are its aspects have to be +collected together by their relations to each other, not to it, +since it is merely inferred from them. We have only, therefore, +to notice how they are collected together, and we can then keep +the collection without assuming any "real" table as distinct from +the collection. When different people see what they call the same +table, they see things which are not exactly the same, owing to +difference of point of view, but which are sufficiently alike to +be described in the same words, so long as no great accuracy or +minuteness is sought. These closely similar particulars are +collected together by their similarity primarily and, more +correctly, by the fact that they are related to each other +approximately according to the laws of perspective and of +reflection and diffraction of light. I suggest, as a first +approximation, that these particulars, together with such +correlated others as are unperceived, jointly ARE the table; and +that a similar definition applies to all physical objects.* + +*See "Our Knowledge of the External World" (Allen & Unwin), +chaps. iii and iv. + + +In order to eliminate the reference to our perceptions, which +introduces an irrelevant psychological suggestion, I will take a +different illustration, namely, stellar photography. A +photographic plate exposed on a clear night reproduces the +appearance of the portion of the sky concerned, with more or +fewer stars according to the power of the telescope that is being +used. Each separate star which is photographed produces its +separate effect on the plate, just as it would upon ourselves if +we were looking at the sky. If we assume, as science normally +does, the continuity of physical processes, we are forced to +conclude that, at the place where the plate is, and at all places +between it and a star which it photographs, SOMETHING is +happening which is specially connected with that star. In the +days when the aether was less in doubt, we should have said that +what was happening was a certain kind of transverse vibration in +the aether. But it is not necessary or desirable to be so +explicit: all that we need say is that SOMETHING happens which is +specially connected with the star in question. It must be +something specially connected with that star, since that star +produces its own special effect upon the plate. Whatever it is +must be the end of a process which starts from the star and +radiates outwards, partly on general grounds of continuity, +partly to account for the fact that light is transmitted with a +certain definite velocity. We thus arrive at the conclusion that, +if a certain star is visible at a certain place, or could be +photographed by a sufficiently sensitive plate at that place, +something is happening there which is specially connected with +that star. Therefore in every place at all times a vast multitude +of things must be happening, namely, at least one for every +physical object which can be seen or photographed from that +place. We can classify such happenings on either of two +principles: + +(1) We can collect together all the happenings in one place, as +is done by photography so far as light is concerned; + +(2) We can collect together all the happenings, in different +places, which are connected in the way that common sense regards +as being due to their emanating from one object. + +Thus, to return to the stars, we can collect together either-- + +(1) All the appearances of different stars in a given place, or, + +(2) All the appearances of a given star in different places. + +But when I speak of "appearances," I do so only for brevity: I do +not mean anything that must "appear" to somebody, but only that +happening, whatever it may be, which is connected, at the place +in question, with a given physical object--according to the old +orthodox theory, it would be a transverse vibration in the +aether. Like the different appearances of the table to a number +of simultaneous observers, the different particulars that belong +to one physical object are to be collected together by continuity +and inherent laws of correlation, not by their supposed causal +connection with an unknown assumed existent called a piece of +matter, which would be a mere unnecessary metaphysical thing in +itself. A piece of matter, according to the definition that I +propose, is, as a first approximation,* the collection of all +those correlated particulars which would normally be regarded as +its appearances or effects in different places. Some further +elaborations are desirable, but we can ignore them for the +present. I shall return to them at the end of this lecture. + +*The exact definition of a piece of matter as a construction will +be given later. + + +According to the view that I am suggesting, a physical object or +piece of matter is the collection of all those correlated +particulars which would be regarded by common sense as its +effects or appearances in different places. On the other hand, +all the happenings in a given place represent what common sense +would regard as the appearances of a number of different objects +as viewed from that place. All the happenings in one place may be +regarded as the view of the world from that place. I shall call +the view of the world from a given place a "perspective." A +photograph represents a perspective. On the other hand, if +photographs of the stars were taken in all points throughout +space, and in all such photographs a certain star, say Sirius, +were picked out whenever it appeared, all the different +appearances of Sirius, taken together, would represent Sirius. +For the understanding of the difference between psychology and +physics it is vital to understand these two ways of classifying +particulars, namely: + +(1) According to the place where they occur; + +(2) According to the system of correlated particulars in +different places to which they belong, such system being defined +as a physical object. + +Given a system of particulars which is a physical object, I shall +define that one of the system which is in a given place (if any) +as the "appearance of that object in that place." + +When the appearance of an object in a given place changes, it is +found that one or other of two things occurs. The two +possibilities may be illustrated by an example. You are in a room +with a man, whom you see: you may cease to see him either by +shutting your eyes or by his going out of the room. In the first +case, his appearance to other people remains unchanged; in the +second, his appearance changes from all places. In the first +case, you say that it is not he who has changed, but your eyes; +in the second, you say that he has changed. Generalizing, we +distinguish-- + +(1) Cases in which only certain appearances of the object change, +while others, and especially appearances from places very near to +the object, do not change; + +(2) Cases where all, or almost all, the appearances of the object +undergo a connected change. + +In the first case, the change is attributed to the medium between +the object and the place; in the second, it is attributed to the +object itself.* + +* The application of this distinction to motion raises +complications due to relativity, but we may ignore these for our +present purposes. + + +It is the frequency of the latter kind of change, and the +comparatively simple nature of the laws governing the +simultaneous alterations of appearances in such cases, that have +made it possible to treat a physical object as one thing, and to +overlook the fact that it is a system of particulars. When a +number of people at a theatre watch an actor, the changes in +their several perspectives are so similar and so closely +correlated that all are popularly regarded as identical with each +other and with the changes of the actor himself. So long as all +the changes in the appearances of a body are thus correlated +there is no pressing prima facie need to break up the system of +appearances, or to realize that the body in question is not +really one thing but a set of correlated particulars. It is +especially and primarily such changes that physics deals with, +i.e. it deals primarily with processes in which the unity of a +physical object need not be broken up because all its appearances +change simultaneously according to the same law--or, if not all, +at any rate all from places sufficiently near to the object, with +in creasing accuracy as we approach the object. + +The changes in appearances of an object which are due to changes +in the intervening medium will not affect, or will affect only +very slightly, the appearances from places close to the object. +If the appearances from sufficiently neighbouring places are +either wholly un changed, or changed to a diminishing extent +which has zero for its limit, it is usually found that the +changes can be accounted for by changes in objects which are +between the object in question and the places from which its +appearance has changed appreciably. Thus physics is able to +reduce the laws of most changes with which it deals to changes in +physical objects, and to state most of its fundamental laws in +terms of matter. It is only in those cases in which the unity of +the system of appearances constituting a piece of matter has to +be broken up, that the statement of what is happening cannot be +made exclusively in terms of matter. The whole of psychology, we +shall find, is included among such cases; hence their importance +for our purposes. + +We can now begin to understand one of the fundamental differences +between physics and psychology. Physics treats as a unit the +whole system of appearances of a piece of matter, whereas +psychology is interested in certain of these appearances +themselves. Confining ourselves for the moment to the psychology +of perceptions, we observe that perceptions are certain of the +appearances of physical objects. From the point of view that we +have been hitherto adopting, we might define them as the +appearances of objects at places from which sense-organs and the +suitable parts of the nervous system form part of the intervening +medium. Just as a photographic plate receives a different +impression of a cluster of stars when a telescope is part of the +intervening medium, so a brain receives a different impression +when an eye and an optic nerve are part of the intervening +medium. An impression due to this sort of intervening medium is +called a perception, and is interesting to psychology on its own +account, not merely as one of the set of correlated particulars +which is the physical object of which (as we say) we are having a +perception. + +We spoke earlier of two ways of classifying particulars. One way +collects together the appearances commonly regarded as a given +object from different places; this is, broadly speaking, the way +of physics, leading to the construction of physical objects as +sets of such appearances. The other way collects together the +appearances of different objects from a given place, the result +being what we call a perspective. In the particular case where +the place concerned is a human brain, the perspective belonging +to the place consists of all the perceptions of a certain man at +a given time. Thus classification by perspectives is relevant to +psychology, and is essential in defining what we mean by one +mind. + +I do not wish to suggest that the way in which I have been +defining perceptions is the only possible way, or even the best +way. It is the way that arose naturally out of our present topic. +But when we approach psychology from a more introspective +standpoint, we have to distinguish sensations and perceptions, if +possible, from other mental occurrences, if any. We have also to +consider the psychological effects of sensations, as opposed to +their physical causes and correlates. These problems are quite +distinct from those with which we have been concerned in the +present lecture, and I shall not deal with them until a later +stage. + +It is clear that psychology is concerned essentially with actual +particulars, not merely with systems of particulars. In this it +differs from physics, which, broadly speaking, is concerned with +the cases in which all the particulars which make up one physical +object can be treated as a single causal unit, or rather the +particulars which are sufficiently near to the object of which +they are appearances can be so treated. The laws which physics +seeks can, broadly speaking, be stated by treating such systems +of particulars as causal units. The laws which psychology seeks +cannot be so stated, since the particulars themselves are what +interests the psychologist. This is one of the fundamental +differences between physics and psychology; and to make it clear +has been the main purpose of this lecture. + +I will conclude with an attempt to give a more precise definition +of a piece of matter. The appearances of a piece of matter from +different places change partly according to intrinsic laws (the +laws of perspective, in the case of visual shape), partly +according to the nature of the intervening medium--fog, blue +spectacles, telescopes, microscopes, sense-organs, etc. As we +approach nearer to the object, the effect of the intervening +medium grows less. In a generalized sense, all the intrinsic laws +of change of appearance may be called "laws of perspective." +Given any appearance of an object, we can construct +hypothetically a certain system of appearances to which the +appearance in question would belong if the laws of perspective +alone were concerned. If we construct this hypothetical system +for each appearance of the object in turn, the system +corresponding to a given appearance x will be independent of any +distortion due to the medium beyond x, and will only embody such +distortion as is due to the medium between x and the object. +Thus, as the appearance by which our hypothetical system is +defined is moved nearer and nearer to the object, the +hypothetical system of appearances defined by its means embodies +less and less of the effect of the medium. The different sets of +appearances resulting from moving x nearer and nearer to the +object will approach to a limiting set, and this limiting set +will be that system of appearances which the object would present +if the laws of perspective alone were operative and the medium +exercised no distorting effect. This limiting set of appearances +may be defined, for purposes of physics, as the piece of matter +concerned. + + + +LECTURE VI. INTROSPECTION + +One of the main purposes of these lectures is to give grounds for +the belief that the distinction between mind and matter is not so +fundamental as is commonly supposed. In the preceding lecture I +dealt in outline with the physical side of this problem. I +attempted to show that what we call a material object is not +itself a substance, but is a system of particulars analogous in +their nature to sensations, and in fact often including actual +sensations among their number. In this way the stuff of which +physical objects are composed is brought into relation with the +stuff of which part, at least, of our mental life is composed. + +There is, however, a converse task which is equally necessary for +our thesis, and that is, to show that the stuff of our mental +life is devoid of many qualities which it is commonly supposed to +have, and is not possessed of any attributes which make it +incapable of forming part of the world of matter. In the present +lecture I shall begin the arguments for this view. + +Corresponding to the supposed duality of matter and mind, there +are, in orthodox psychology, two ways of knowing what exists. One +of these, the way of sensation and external perception, is +supposed to furnish data for our knowledge of matter, the other, +called "introspection," is supposed to furnish data for knowledge +of our mental processes. To common sense, this distinction seems +clear and easy. When you see a friend coming along the street, +you acquire knowledge of an external, physical fact; when you +realize that you are glad to meet him, you acquire knowledge of a +mental fact. Your dreams and memories and thoughts, of which you +are often conscious, are mental facts, and the process by which +you become aware of them SEEMS to be different from sensation. +Kant calls it the "inner sense"; sometimes it is spoken of as +"consciousness of self"; but its commonest name in modern English +psychology is "introspection." It is this supposed method of +acquiring knowledge of our mental processes that I wish to +analyse and examine in this lecture. + +I will state at the outset the view which I shall aim at +establishing. I believe that the stuff of our mental life, as +opposed to its relations and structure, consists wholly of +sensations and images. Sensations are connected with matter in +the way that I tried to explain in Lecture V, i.e. each is a +member of a system which is a certain physical object. Images, +though they USUALLY have certain characteristics, especially lack +of vividness, that distinguish them from sensations, are not +INVARIABLY so distinguished, and cannot therefore be defined by +these characteristics. Images, as opposed to sensations, can only +be defined by their different causation: they are caused by +association with a sensation, not by a stimulus external to the +nervous system--or perhaps one should say external to the brain, +where the higher animals are concerned. The occurrence of a +sensation or image does not in itself constitute knowledge but +any sensation or image may come to be known if the conditions are +suitable. When a sensation--like the hearing of a clap of +thunder--is normally correlated with closely similar sensations +in our neighbours, we regard it as giving knowledge of the +external world, since we regard the whole set of similar +sensations as due to a common external cause. But images and +bodily sensations are not so correlated. Bodily sensations can be +brought into a correlation by physiology, and thus take their +place ultimately among sources of knowledge of the physical +world. But images cannot be made to fit in with the simultaneous +sensations and images of others. Apart from their hypothetical +causes in the brain, they have a causal connection with physical +objects, through the fact that they are copies of past +sensations; but the physical objects with which they are thus +connected are in the past, not in the present. These images +remain private in a sense in which sensations are not. A +sensation SEEMS to give us knowledge of a present physical +object, while an image does not, except when it amounts to a +hallucination, and in this case the seeming is deceptive. Thus +the whole context of the two occurrences is different. But in +themselves they do not differ profoundly, and there is no reason +to invoke two different ways of knowing for the one and for the +other. Consequently introspection as a separate kind of knowledge +disappears. + +The criticism of introspection has been in the main the work of +American psychologists. I will begin by summarizing an article +which seems to me to afford a good specimen of their arguments, +namely, "The Case against Introspection," by Knight Dunlap +("Psychological Review," vol xix, No. 5, pp. 404-413, September, +1912). After a few historical quotations, he comes to two modern +defenders of introspection, Stout and James. He quotes from Stout +such statements as the following: "Psychical states as such +become objects only when we attend to them in an introspective +way. Otherwise they are not themselves objects, but only +constituents of the process by which objects are recognized" +("Manual," 2nd edition, p. 134. The word "recognized" in Dunlap's +quotation should be "cognized.") "The object itself can never be +identified with the present modification of the individual's +consciousness by which it is cognized" (ib. p. 60). This is to be +true even when we are thinking about modifications of our own +consciousness; such modifications are to be always at least +partially distinct from the conscious experience in which we +think of them. + +At this point I wish to interrupt the account of Knight Dunlap's +article in order to make some observations on my own account with +reference to the above quotations from Stout. In the first place, +the conception of "psychical states" seems to me one which +demands analysis of a somewhat destructive character. This +analysis I shall give in later lectures as regards cognition; I +have already given it as regards desire. In the second place, the +conception of "objects" depends upon a certain view as to +cognition which I believe to be wholly mistaken, namely, the view +which I discussed in my first lecture in connection with +Brentano. In this view a single cognitive occurrence contains +both content and object, the content being essentially mental, +while the object is physical except in introspection and abstract +thought. I have already criticized this view, and will not dwell +upon it now, beyond saying that "the process by which objects are +cognized" appears to be a very slippery phrase. When we "see a +table," as common sense would say, the table as a physical object +is not the "object" (in the psychological sense) of our +perception. Our perception is made up of sensations, images and +beliefs, but the supposed "object" is something inferential, +externally related, not logically bound up with what is occurring +in us. This question of the nature of the object also affects the +view we take of self-consciousness. Obviously, a "conscious +experience" is different from a physical object; therefore it is +natural to assume that a thought or perception whose object is a +conscious experience must be different from a thought or +perception whose object is a physical object. But if the relation +to the object is inferential and external, as I maintain, the +difference between two thoughts may bear very little relation to +the difference between their objects. And to speak of "the +present modification of the individual's consciousness by which +an object is cognized" is to suggest that the cognition of +objects is a far more direct process, far more intimately bound +up with the objects, than I believe it to be. All these points +will be amplified when we come to the analysis of knowledge, but +it is necessary briefly to state them now in order to suggest the +atmosphere in which our analysis of "introspection" is to be +carried on. + +Another point in which Stout's remarks seem to me to suggest what +I regard as mistakes is his use of "consciousness." There is a +view which is prevalent among psychologists, to the effect that +one can speak of "a conscious experience" in a curious dual +sense, meaning, on the one hand, an experience which is conscious +of something, and, on the other hand, an experience which has +some intrinsic nature characteristic of what is called +"consciousness." That is to say, a "conscious experience" is +characterized on the one hand by relation to its object and on +the other hand by being composed of a certain peculiar stuff, the +stuff of "consciousness." And in many authors there is yet a +third confusion: a "conscious experience," in this third sense, +is an experience of which we are conscious. All these, it seems +to me, need to be clearly separated. To say that one occurrence +is "conscious" of another is, to my mind, to assert an external +and rather remote relation between them. I might illustrate it by +the relation of uncle and nephew a man becomes an uncle through +no effort of his own, merely through an occurrence elsewhere. +Similarly, when you are said to be "conscious" of a table, the +question whether this is really the case cannot be decided by +examining only your state of mind: it is necessary also to +ascertain whether your sensation is having those correlates which +past experience causes you to assume, or whether the table +happens, in this case, to be a mirage. And, as I explained in my +first lecture, I do not believe that there is any "stuff" of +consciousness, so that there is no intrinsic character by which a +"conscious" experience could be distinguished from any other. + +After these preliminaries, we can return to Knight Dunlap's +article. His criticism of Stout turns on the difficulty of giving +any empirical meaning to such notions as the "mind" or the +"subject"; he quotes from Stout the sentence: "The most important +drawback is that the mind, in watching its own workings, must +necessarily have its attention divided between two objects," and +he concludes: "Without question, Stout is bringing in here +illicitly the concept of a single observer, and his introspection +does not provide for the observation of this observer; for the +process observed and the observer are distinct" (p. 407). The +objections to any theory which brings in the single observer were +considered in Lecture I, and were acknowledged to be cogent. In +so far, therefore, as Stout's theory of introspection rests upon +this assumption, we are compelled to reject it. But it is +perfectly possible to believe in introspection without supposing +that there is a single observer. + +William James's theory of introspection, which Dunlap next +examines, does not assume a single observer. It changed after the +publication of his "Psychology," in consequence of his abandoning +the dualism of thought and things. Dunlap summarizes his theory +as follows: + +"The essential points in James's scheme of consciousness are +SUBJECT, OBJECT,and a KNOWING of the object by the subject. The +difference between James's scheme and other schemes involving the +same terms is that James considers subject and object to be the +same thing, but at different times In order to satisfy this +requirement James supposes a realm of existence which he at first +called 'states of consciousness' or 'thoughts,' and later, 'pure +experience,' the latter term including both the 'thoughts' and +the 'knowing.' This scheme, with all its magnificent +artificiality, James held on to until the end, simply dropping +the term consciousness and the dualism between the thought and an +external reality"(p. 409). + +He adds: "All that James's system really amounts to is the +acknowledgment that a succession of things are known, and that +they are known by something. This is all any one can claim, +except for the fact that the things are known together, and that +the knower for the different items is one and the same" (ib.). + +In this statement, to my mind, Dunlap concedes far more than +James did in his later theory. I see no reason to suppose that +"the knower for different items is one and the same," and I am +convinced that this proposition could not possibly be ascertained +except by introspection of the sort that Dunlap rejects. The +first of these points must wait until we come to the analysis of +belief: the second must be considered now. Dunlap's view is that +there is a dualism of subject and object, but that the subject +can never become object, and therefore there is no awareness of +an awareness. He says in discussing the view that introspection +reveals the occurrence of knowledge: "There can be no denial of +the existence of the thing (knowing) which is alleged to be known +or observed in this sort of 'introspection.' The allegation that +the knowing is observed is that which may be denied. Knowing +there certainly is; known, the knowing certainly is not"(p. 410). +And again: "I am never aware of an awareness" (ib.). And on the +next page: "It may sound paradoxical to say that one cannot +observe the process (or relation) of observation, and yet may be +certain that there is such a process: but there is really no +inconsistency in the saying. How do I know that there is +awareness? By being aware of something. There is no meaning in +the term 'awareness' which is not expressed in the statement 'I +am aware of a colour (or what-not).' " + +But the paradox cannot be so lightly disposed of. The statement +"I am aware of a colour" is assumed by Knight Dunlap to be known +to be true, but he does not explain how it comes to be known. The +argument against him is not conclusive, since he may be able to +show some valid way of inferring our awareness. But he does not +suggest any such way. There is nothing odd in the hypothesis of +beings which are aware of objects, but not of their own +awareness; it is, indeed, highly probable that young children and +the higher animals are such beings. But such beings cannot make +the statement "I am aware of a colour," which WE can make. We +have, therefore, some knowledge which they lack. It is necessary +to Knight Dunlap's position to maintain that this additional +knowledge is purely inferential, but he makes no attempt to show +how the inference is possible. It may, of course, be possible, +but I cannot see how. To my mind the fact (which he admits) that +we know there is awareness, is ALL BUT decisive against his +theory, and in favour of the view that we can be aware of an +awareness. + +Dunlap asserts (to return to James) that the real ground for +James's original belief in introspection was his belief in two +sorts of objects, namely, thoughts and things. He suggests that +it was a mere inconsistency on James's part to adhere to +introspection after abandoning the dualism of thoughts and +things. I do not wholly agree with this view, but it is difficult +to disentangle the difference as to introspection from the +difference as to the nature of knowing. Dunlap suggests (p. 411) +that what is called introspection really consists of awareness of +"images," visceral sensations, and so on. This view, in essence, +seems to me sound. But then I hold that knowing itself consists +of such constituents suitably related, and that in being aware of +them we are sometimes being aware of instances of knowing. For +this reason, much as I agree with his view as to what are the +objects of which there is awareness, I cannot wholly agree with +his conclusion as to the impossibility of introspection. + +The behaviourists have challenged introspection even more +vigorously than Knight Dunlap, and have gone so far as to deny +the existence of images. But I think that they have confused +various things which are very commonly confused, and that it is +necessary to make several distinctions before we can arrive at +what is true and what false in the criticism of introspection. + +I wish to distinguish three distinct questions, any one of which +may be meant when we ask whether introspection is a source of +knowledge. The three questions are as follows: + +(1) Can we observe anything about ourselves which we cannot +observe about other people, or is everything we can observe +PUBLIC, in the sense that another could also observe it if +suitably placed? + +(2) Does everything that we can observe obey the laws of physics +and form part of the physical world, or can we observe certain +things that lie outside physics? + +(3) Can we observe anything which differs in its intrinsic nature +from the constituents of the physical world, or is everything +that we can observe composed of elements intrinsically similar to +the constituents of what is called matter? + +Any one of these three questions may be used to define +introspection. I should favour introspection in the sense of the +first question, i.e. I think that some of the things we observe +cannot, even theoretically, be observed by any one else. The +second question, tentatively and for the present, I should answer +in favour of introspection; I think that images, in the actual +condition of science, cannot be brought under the causal laws of +physics, though perhaps ultimately they may be. The third +question I should answer adversely to introspection I think that +observation shows us nothing that is not composed of sensations +and images, and that images differ from sensations in their +causal laws, not intrinsically. I shall deal with the three +questions successively. + +(1) PUBLICITY OR PRIVACY OF WHAT IS OBSERVED. Confining +ourselves, for the moment, to sensations, we find that there are +different degrees of publicity attaching to different sorts of +sensations. If you feel a toothache when the other people in the +room do not, you are in no way surprised; but if you hear a clap +of thunder when they do not, you begin to be alarmed as to your +mental condition. Sight and hearing are the most public of the +senses; smell only a trifle less so; touch, again, a trifle less, +since two people can only touch the same spot successively, not +simultaneously. Taste has a sort of semi-publicity, since people +seem to experience similar taste-sensations when they eat similar +foods; but the publicity is incomplete, since two people cannot +eat actually the same piece of food. + +But when we pass on to bodily sensations--headache, toothache, +hunger, thirst, the feeling of fatigue, and so on--we get quite +away from publicity, into a region where other people can tell us +what they feel, but we cannot directly observe their feeling. As +a natural result of this state of affairs, it has come to be +thought that the public senses give us knowledge of the outer +world, while the private senses only give us knowledge as to our +own bodies. As regards privacy, all images, of whatever sort, +belong with the sensations which only give knowledge of our own +bodies, i.e. each is only observable by one observer. This is the +reason why images of sight and hearing are more obviously +different from sensations of sight and hearing than images of +bodily sensations are from bodily sensations; and that is why the +argument in favour of images is more conclusive in such cases as +sight and hearing than in such cases as inner speech. + +The whole distinction of privacy and publicity, however, so long +as we confine ourselves to sensations, is one of degree, not of +kind. No two people, there is good empirical reason to think, +ever have exactly similar sensations related to the same physical +object at the same moment; on the other hand, even the most +private sensation has correlations which would theoretically +enable another observer to infer it. + +That no sensation is ever completely public, results from +differences of point of view. Two people looking at the same +table do not get the same sensation, because of perspective and +the way the light falls. They get only correlated sensations. Two +people listening to the same sound do not hear exactly the same +thing, because one is nearer to the source of the sound than the +other, one has better hearing than the other, and so on. Thus +publicity in sensations consists, not in having PRECISELY similar +sensations, but in having more or less similar sensations +correlated according to ascertainable laws. The sensations which +strike us as public are those where the correlated sensations are +very similar and the correlations are very easy to discover. But +even the most private sensations have correlations with things +that others can observe. The dentist does not observe your ache, +but he can see the cavity which causes it, and could guess that +you are suffering even if you did not tell him. This fact, +however, cannot be used, as Watson would apparently wish, to +extrude from science observations which are private to one +observer, since it is by means of many such observations that +correlations are established, e.g. between toothaches and +cavities. Privacy, therefore does not by itself make a datum +unamenable to scientific treatment. On this point, the argument +against introspection must be rejected. + +(2) DOES EVERYTHING OBSERVABLE OBEY THE LAWS OF PHYSICS? We come +now to the second ground of objection to introspection, namely, +that its data do not obey the laws of physics. This, though less +emphasized, is, I think, an objection which is really more +strongly felt than the objection of privacy. And we obtain a +definition of introspection more in harmony with usage if we +define it as observation of data not subject to physical laws +than if we define it by means of privacy. No one would regard a +man as introspective because he was conscious of having a stomach +ache. Opponents of introspection do not mean to deny the obvious +fact that we can observe bodily sensations which others cannot +observe. For example, Knight Dunlap contends that images are +really muscular contractions,* and evidently regards our +awareness of muscular contractions as not coming under the head +of introspection. I think it will be found that the essential +characteristic of introspective data, in the sense which now +concerns us, has to do with LOCALIZATION: either they are not +localized at all, or they are localized, like visual images, in a +place already physically occupied by something which would be +inconsistent with them if they were regarded as part of the +physical world. If you have a visual image of your friend sitting +in a chair which in fact is empty, you cannot locate the image in +your body, because it is visual, nor (as a physical phenomenon) +in the chair, because the chair, as a physical object, is empty. +Thus it seems to follow that the physical world does not include +all that we are aware of, and that images, which are +introspective data, have to be regarded, for the present, as not +obeying the laws of physics; this is, I think, one of the chief +reasons why an attempt is made to reject them. I shall try to +show in Lecture VIII that the purely empirical reasons for +accepting images are overwhelming. But we cannot be nearly so +certain that they will not ultimately be brought under the laws +of physics. Even if this should happen, however, they would still +be distinguishable from sensations by their proximate causal +laws, as gases remain distinguishable from solids. + +* "Psychological Review," 1916, "Thought-Content and Feeling," p. +59. See also ib., 1912, "The Nature of Perceived Relations," +where he says: "'Introspection,' divested of its mythological +suggestion of the observing of consciousness, is really the +observation of bodily sensations (sensibles) and feelings +(feelables)"(p. 427 n.). + + +(3) CAN WE OBSERVE ANYTHING INTRINSICALLY DIFFERENT FROM +SENSATIONS? We come now to our third question concerning +introspection. It is commonly thought that by looking within we +can observe all sorts of things that are radically different from +the constituents of the physical world, e.g. thoughts, beliefs, +desires, pleasures, pains and emotions. The difference between +mind and matter is increased partly by emphasizing these supposed +introspective data, partly by the supposition that matter is +composed of atoms or electrons or whatever units physics may at +the moment prefer. As against this latter supposition, I contend +that the ultimate constituents of matter are not atoms or +electrons, but sensations, and other things similar to sensations +as regards extent and duration. As against the view that +introspection reveals a mental world radically different from +sensations, I propose to argue that thoughts, beliefs, desires, +pleasures, pains and emotions are all built up out of sensations +and images alone, and that there is reason to think that images +do not differ from sensations in their intrinsic character. We +thus effect a mutual rapprochement of mind and matter, and reduce +the ultimate data of introspection (in our second sense) to +images alone. On this third view of the meaning of introspection, +therefore, our decision is wholly against it. + +There remain two points to be considered concerning +introspection. The first is as to how far it is trustworthy; the +second is as to whether, even granting that it reveals no +radically different STUFF from that revealed by what might be +called external perception, it may not reveal different +RELATIONS, and thus acquire almost as much importance as is +traditionally assigned to it. + +To begin with the trustworthiness of introspection. It is common +among certain schools to regard the knowledge of our own mental +processes as incomparably more certain than our knowledge of the +"external" world; this view is to be found in the British +philosophy which descends from Hume, and is present, somewhat +veiled, in Kant and his followers. There seems no reason whatever +to accept this view. Our spontaneous, unsophisticated beliefs, +whether as to ourselves or as to the outer world, are always +extremely rash and very liable to error. The acquisition of +caution is equally necessary and equally difficult in both +directions. Not only are we often un aware of entertaining a +belief or desire which exists in us; we are often actually +mistaken. The fallibility of introspection as regards what we +desire is made evident by psycho-analysis; its fallibility as to +what we know is easily demonstrated. An autobiography, when +confronted by a careful editor with documentary evidence, is +usually found to be full of obviously inadvertent errors. Any of +us confronted by a forgotten letter written some years ago will +be astonished to find how much more foolish our opinions were +than we had remembered them as being. And as to the analysis of +our mental operations--believing, desiring, willing, or what +not--introspection unaided gives very little help: it is +necessary to construct hypotheses and test them by their +consequences, just as we do in physical science. Introspection, +therefore, though it is one among our sources of knowledge, is +not, in isolation, in any degree more trustworthy than "external" +perception. + +I come now to our second question: Does introspection give us +materials for the knowledge of relations other than those arrived +at by reflecting upon external perception? It might be contended +that the essence of what is "mental" consists of relations, such +as knowing for example, and that our knowledge concerning these +essentially mental relations is entirely derived from +introspection. If "knowing" were an unanalysable relation, this +view would be incontrovertible, since clearly no such relation +forms part of the subject matter of physics. But it would seem +that "knowing" is really various relations, all of them complex. +Therefore, until they have been analysed, our present question +must remain unanswered I shall return to it at the end of the +present course of lectures. + + + +LECTURE VII. THE DEFINITION OF PERCEPTION + +In Lecture V we found reason to think that the ultimate +constituents* of the world do not have the characteristics of +either mind or matter as ordinarily understood: they are not +solid persistent objects moving through space, nor are they +fragments of "consciousness." But we found two ways of grouping +particulars, one into "things" or "pieces of matter," the other +into series of "perspectives," each series being what may be +called a "biography." Before we can define either sensations or +images, it is necessary to consider this twofold classification +in somewhat greater detail, and to derive from it a definition of +perception. It should be said that, in so far as the +classification assumes the whole world of physics (including its +unperceived portions), it contains hypothetical elements. But we +will not linger on the grounds for admitting these, which belong +to the philosophy of physics rather than of psychology. + +* When I speak of "ultimate constituents," I do not mean +necessarily such as are theoretically incapable of analysis, but +only such as, at present, we can see no means of analysing. I +speak of such constituents as "particulars," or as "RELATIVE +particulars" when I wish to emphasize the fact that they may be +themselves complex. + + +The physical classification of particulars collects together all +those that are aspects of one "thing." Given any one particular, +it is found often (we do not say always) that there are a number +of other particulars differing from this one in gradually +increasing degrees. Those (or some of those) that differ from it +only very slightly will be found to differ approximately +according to certain laws which may be called, in a generalized +sense, the laws of "perspective"; they include the ordinary laws +of perspective as a special case. This approximation grows more +and more nearly exact as the difference grows less; in technical +language, the laws of perspective account for the differences to +the first order of small quantities, and other laws are only +required to account for second-order differences. That is to say, +as the difference diminishes, the part of the difference which is +not according to the laws of perspective diminishes much more +rapidly, and bears to the total difference a ratio which tends +towards zero as both are made smaller and smaller. By this means +we can theoretically collect together a number of particulars +which may be defined as the "aspects" or "appearances" of one +thing at one time. If the laws of perspective were sufficiently +known, the connection between different aspects would be +expressed in differential equations. + +This gives us, so far, only those particulars which constitute +one thing at one time. This set of particulars may be called a +"momentary thing." To define that series of "momentary things" +that constitute the successive states of one thing is a problem +involving the laws of dynamics. These give the laws governing the +changes of aspects from one time to a slightly later time, with +the same sort of differential approximation to exactness as we +obtained for spatially neighbouring aspects through the laws of +perspective. Thus a momentary thing is a set of particulars, +while a thing (which may be identified with the whole history of +the thing) is a series of such sets of particulars. The +particulars in one set are collected together by the laws of +perspective; the successive sets are collected together by the +laws of dynamics. This is the view of the world which is +appropriate to traditional physics. + +The definition of a "momentary thing" involves problems +concerning time, since the particulars constituting a momentary +thing will not be all simultaneous, but will travel outward from +the thing with the velocity of light (in case the thing is in +vacuo). There are complications connected with relativity, but +for our present purpose they are not vital, and I shall ignore +them. + +Instead of first collecting together all the particulars +constituting a momentary thing, and then forming the series of +successive sets, we might have first collected together a series +of successive aspects related by the laws of dynamics, and then +have formed the set of such series related by the laws of +perspective. To illustrate by the case of an actor on the stage: +our first plan was to collect together all the aspects which he +presents to different spectators at one time, and then to form +the series of such sets. Our second plan is first to collect +together all the aspects which he presents successively to a +given spectator, and then to do the same thing for the other +spectators, thus forming a set of series instead of a series of +sets. The first plan tells us what he does; the second the +impressions he produces. This second way of classifying +particulars is one which obviously has more relevance to +psychology than the other. It is partly by this second method of +classification that we obtain definitions of one "experience" or +"biography" or "person." This method of classification is also +essential to the definition of sensations and images, as I shall +endeavour to prove later on. But we must first amplify the +definition of perspectives and biographies. + +In our illustration of the actor, we spoke, for the moment, as +though each spectator's mind were wholly occupied by the one +actor. If this were the case, it might be possible to define the +biography of one spectator as a series of successive aspects of +the actor related according to the laws of dynamics. But in fact +this is not the case. We are at all times during our waking life +receiving a variety of impressions, which are aspects of a +variety of things. We have to consider what binds together two +simultaneous sensations in one person, or, more generally, any +two occurrences which forte part of one experience. We might say, +adhering to the standpoint of physics, that two aspects of +different things belong to the same perspective when they are in +the same place. But this would not really help us, since a +"place" has not yet been defined. Can we define what is meant by +saying that two aspects are "in the same place," without +introducing anything beyond the laws of perspective and dynamics? + +I do not feel sure whether it is possible to frame such a +definition or not; accordingly I shall not assume that it is +possible, but shall seek other characteristics by which a +perspective or biography may be defined. + +When (for example) we see one man and hear another speaking at +the same time, what we see and what we hear have a relation which +we can perceive, which makes the two together form, in some +sense, one experience. It is when this relation exists that two +occurrences become associated. Semon's "engram" is formed by all +that we experience at one time. He speaks of two parts of this +total as having the relation of "Nebeneinander" (M. 118; M.E. 33 +ff.), which is reminiscent of Herbart's "Zusammen." I think the +relation may be called simply "simultaneity." It might be said +that at any moment all sorts of things that are not part of my +experience are happening in the world, and that therefore the +relation we are seeking to define cannot be merely simultaneity. +This, however, would be an error--the sort of error that the +theory of relativity avoids. There is not one universal time, +except by an elaborate construction; there are only local times, +each of which may be taken to be the time within one biography. +Accordingly, if I am (say) hearing a sound, the only occurrences +that are, in any simple sense, simultaneous with my sensation are +events in my private world, i.e. in my biography. We may +therefore define the "perspective" to which the sensation in +question belongs as the set of particulars that are simultaneous +with this sensation. And similarly we may define the "biography" +to which the sensation belongs as the set of particulars that are +earlier or later than, or simultaneous with, the given sensation. +Moreover, the very same definitions can be applied to particulars +which are not sensations. They are actually required for the +theory of relativity, if we are to give a philosophical +explanation of what is meant by "local time" in that theory The +relations of simultaneity and succession are known to us in our +own experience; they may be analysable, but that does not affect +their suitability for defining perspectives and biographies. Such +time-relations as can be constructed between events in different +biographies are of a different kind: they are not experienced, +and are merely logical, being designed to afford convenient ways +of stating the correlations between different biographies. + +It is not only by time-relations that the parts of one biography +are collected together in the case of living beings. In this case +there are the mnemic phenomena which constitute the unity of one +"experience," and transform mere occurrences into "experiences." +I have already dwelt upon the importance of mnemic phenomena for +psychology, and shall not enlarge upon them now, beyond observing +that they are what transforms a biography (in our technical +sense) into a life. It is they that give the continuity of a +"person" or a "mind." But there is no reason to suppose that +mnemic phenomena are associated with biographies except in the +case of animals and plants. + +Our two-fold classification of particulars gives rise to the +dualism of body and biography in regard to everything in the +universe, and not only in regard to living things. This arises as +follows. Every particular of the sort considered by physics is a +member of two groups (1) The group of particulars constituting +the other aspects of the same physical object; (2) The group of +particulars that have direct time-relations to the given +particular. + +Each of these is associated with a place. When I look at a star, +my sensation is (1) A member of the group of particulars which is +the star, and which is associated with the place where the star +is; (2) A member of the group of particulars which is my +biography, and which is associated with the place where I am.* + +*I have explained elsewhere the manner in which space is +constructed on this theory, and in which the position of a +perspective is brought into relation with the position of a +physical object ("Our Knowledge of the External World," Lecture +III, pp. 90, 91). + + +The result is that every particular of the kind relevant to +physics is associated with TWO places; e.g. my sensation of the +star is associated with the place where I am and with the place +where the star is. This dualism has nothing to do with any "mind" +that I may be supposed to possess; it exists in exactly the same +sense if I am replaced by a photographic plate. We may call the +two places the active and passive places respectively.* Thus in +the case of a perception or photograph of a star, the active +place is the place where the star is, while the passive place is +the place where the percipient or photographic plate is. + +* I use these as mere names; I do not want to introduce any +notion of "activity." + + +We can thus, without departing from physics, collect together all +the particulars actively at a given place, or all the particulars +passively at a given place. In our own case, the one group is our +body (or our brain), while the other is our mind, in so far as it +consists of perceptions. In the case of the photographic plate, +the first group is the plate as dealt with by physics, the second +the aspect of the heavens which it photographs. (For the sake of +schematic simplicity, I am ignoring various complications +connected with time, which require some tedious but perfectly +feasible elaborations.) Thus what may be called subjectivity in +the point of view is not a distinctive peculiarity of mind: it is +present just as much in the photographic plate. And the +photographic plate has its biography as well as its "matter." But +this biography is an affair of physics, and has none of the +peculiar characteristics by which "mental" phenomena are +distinguished, with the sole exception of subjectivity. + +Adhering, for the moment, to the standpoint of physics, we may +define a "perception" of an object as the appearance of the +object from a place where there is a brain (or, in lower animals, +some suitable nervous structure), with sense-organs and nerves +forming part of the intervening medium. Such appearances of +objects are distinguished from appearances in other places by +certain peculiarities, namely + +(1) They give rise to mnemic phenomena; + +(2) They are themselves affected by mnemic phenomena. + +That is to say, they may be remembered and associated or +influence our habits, or give rise to images, etc., and they are +themselves different from what they would have been if our past +experience had been different--for example, the effect of a +spoken sentence upon the hearer depends upon whether the hearer +knows the language or not, which is a question of past +experience. It is these two characteristics, both connected with +mnemic phenomena, that distinguish perceptions from the +appearances of objects in places where there is no living being. + +Theoretically, though often not practically, we can, in our +perception of an object, separate the part which is due to past +experience from the part which proceeds without mnemic influences +out of the character of the object. We may define as "sensation" +that part which proceeds in this way, while the remainder, which +is a mnemic phenomenon, will have to be added to the sensation to +make up what is called the "perception." According to this +definition, the sensation is a theoretical core in the actual +experience; the actual experience is the perception. It is +obvious that there are grave difficulties in carrying out these +definitions, but we will not linger over them. We have to pass, +as soon as we can, from the physical standpoint, which we have +been hitherto adopting, to the standpoint of psychology, in which +we make more use of introspection in the first of the three +senses discussed in the preceding lecture. + +But before making the transition, there are two points which must +be made clear. First: Everything outside my own personal +biography is outside my experience; therefore if anything can be +known by me outside my biography, it can only be known in one of +two ways + +(1) By inference from things within my biography, or + +(2) By some a priori principle independent of experience. + +I do not myself believe that anything approaching certainty is to +be attained by either of these methods, and therefore whatever +lies outside my personal biography must be regarded, +theoretically, as hypothesis. The theoretical argument for +adopting the hypothesis is that it simplifies the statement of +the laws according to which events happen in our experience. But +there is no very good ground for supposing that a simple law is +more likely to be true than a complicated law, though there is +good ground for assuming a simple law in scientific practice, as +a working hypothesis, if it explains the facts as well as another +which is less simple. Belief in the existence of things outside +my own biography exists antecedently to evidence, and can only be +destroyed, if at all, by a long course of philosophic doubt. For +purposes of science, it is justified practically by the +simplification which it introduces into the laws of physics. But +from the standpoint of theoretical logic it must be regarded as a +prejudice, not as a well-grounded theory. With this proviso, I +propose to continue yielding to the prejudice. + +The second point concerns the relating of our point of view to +that which regards sensations as caused by stimuli external to +the nervous system (or at least to the brain), and distinguishes +images as "centrally excited," i.e. due to causes in the brain +which cannot be traced back to anything affecting the +sense-organs. It is clear that, if our analysis of physical +objects has been valid, this way of defining sensations needs +reinterpretation. It is also clear that we must be able to find +such a new interpretation if our theory is to be admissible. + +To make the matter clear, we will take the simplest possible +illustration. Consider a certain star, and suppose for the moment +that its size is negligible. That is to say, we will regard it +as, for practical purposes, a luminous point. Let us further +suppose that it exists only for a very brief time, say a second. +Then, according to physics, what happens is that a spherical wave +of light travels outward from the star through space, just as, +when you drop a stone into a stagnant pond, ripples travel +outward from the place where the stone hit the water. The wave of +light travels with a certain very nearly constant velocity, +roughly 300,000 kilometres per second. This velocity may be +ascertained by sending a flash of light to a mirror, and +observing how long it takes before the reflected flash reaches +you, just as the velocity of sound may be ascertained by means of +an echo. + +What it is that happens when a wave of light reaches a given +place we cannot tell, except in the sole case when the place in +question is a brain connected with an eye which is turned in the +right direction. In this one very special case we know what +happens: we have the sensation called "seeing the star." In all +other cases, though we know (more or less hypothetically) some of +the correlations and abstract properties of the appearance of the +star, we do not know the appearance itself. Now you may, for the +sake of illustration, compare the different appearances of the +star to the conjugation of a Greek verb, except that the number +of its parts is really infinite, and not only apparently so to +the despairing schoolboy. In vacuo, the parts are regular, and +can be derived from the (imaginary) root according to the laws of +grammar, i.e. of perspective. The star being situated in empty +space, it may be defined, for purposes of physics, as consisting +of all those appearances which it presents in vacuo, together +with those which, according to the laws of perspective, it would +present elsewhere if its appearances elsewhere were regular. This +is merely the adaptation of the definition of matter which I gave +in an earlier lecture. The appearance of a star at a certain +place, if it is regular, does not require any cause or +explanation beyond the existence of the star. Every regular +appearance is an actual member of the system which is the star, +and its causation is entirely internal to that system. We may +express this by saying that a regular appearance is due to the +star alone, and is actually part of the star, in the sense in +which a man is part of the human race. + +But presently the light of the star reaches our atmosphere. It +begins to be refracted, and dimmed by mist, and its velocity is +slightly diminished. At last it reaches a human eye, where a +complicated process takes place, ending in a sensation which +gives us our grounds for believing in all that has gone before. +Now, the irregular appearances of the star are not, strictly +speaking, members of the system which is the star, according to +our definition of matter. The irregular appearances, however, are +not merely irregular: they proceed according to laws which can be +stated in terms of the matter through which the light has passed +on its way. The sources of an irregular appearance are therefore +twofold: + +(1) The object which is appearing irregularly; + +2) The intervening medium. + +It should be observed that, while the conception of a regular +appearance is perfectly precise, the conception of an irregular +appearance is one capable of any degree of vagueness. When the +distorting influence of the medium is sufficiently great, the +resulting particular can no longer be regarded as an appearance +of an object, but must be treated on its own account. This +happens especially when the particular in question cannot be +traced back to one object, but is a blend of two or more. This +case is normal in perception: we see as one what the microscope +or telescope reveals to be many different objects. The notion of +perception is therefore not a precise one: we perceive things +more or less, but always with a very considerable amount of +vagueness and confusion. + +In considering irregular appearances, there are certain very +natural mistakes which must be avoided. In order that a +particular may count as an irregular appearance of a certain +object, it is not necessary that it should bear any resemblance +to the regular appearances as regard its intrinsic qualities. All +that is necessary is that it should be derivable from the regular +appearances by the laws which express the distorting influence of +the medium. When it is so derivable, the particular in question +may be regarded as caused by the regular appearances, and +therefore by the object itself, together with the modifications +resulting from the medium. In other cases, the particular in +question may, in the same sense, be regarded as caused by several +objects together with the medium; in this case, it may be called +a confused appearance of several objects. If it happens to be in +a brain, it may be called a confused perception of these objects. +All actual perception is confused to a greater or less extent. + +We can now interpret in terms of our theory the distinction +between those mental occurrences which are said to have an +external stimulus, and those which are said to be "centrally +excited," i.e. to have no stimulus external to the brain. When a +mental occurrence can be regarded as an appearance of an object +external to the brain, however irregular, or even as a confused +appearance of several such objects, then we may regard it as +having for its stimulus the object or objects in question, or +their appearances at the sense-organ concerned. When, on the +other hand, a mental occurrence has not sufficient connection +with objects external to the brain to be regarded as an +appearance of such objects, then its physical causation (if any) +will have to be sought in the brain. In the former case it can be +called a perception; in the latter it cannot be so called. But +the distinction is one of degree, not of kind. Until this is +realized, no satisfactory theory of perception, sensation, or +imagination is possible. + + + +LECTURE VIII. SENSATIONS AND IMAGES + +The dualism of mind and matter, if we have been right so far, +cannot be allowed as metaphysically valid. Nevertheless, we seem +to find a certain dualism, perhaps not ultimate, within the world +as we observe it. The dualism is not primarily as to the stuff of +the world, but as to causal laws. On this subject we may again +quote William James. He points out that when, as we say, we +merely "imagine" things, there are no such effects as would ensue +if the things were what we call "real." He takes the case of +imagining a fire + +"I make for myself an experience of blazing fire; I place it near +my body; but it does not warm me in the least. I lay a stick upon +it and the stick either burns or remains green, as I please. I +call up water, and pour it on the fire, and absolutely no +difference ensues. I account for all such facts by calling this +whole train of experiences unreal, a mental train. Mental fire is +what won't burn real sticks; mental water is what won't +necessarily (though of course it may) put out even a mental +fire.... With 'real' objects, on the contrary, consequences +always accrue; and thus the real experiences get sifted from the +mental ones, the things from our thoughts of them, fanciful or +true, and precipitated together as the stable part of the whole +experience--chaos, under the name of the physical world."* + +* "Essays in Radical Empiricism," pp. 32-3. + + +In this passage James speaks, by mere inadvertence, as though the +phenomena which he is describing as "mental" had NO effects. This +is, of course, not the case: they have their effects, just as +much as physical phenomena do, but their effects follow different +laws. For example, dreams, as Freud has shown, are just as much +subject to laws as are the motions of the planets. But the laws +are different: in a dream you may be transported from one place +to another in a moment, or one person may turn into another under +your eyes. Such differences compel you to distinguish the world +of dreams from the physical world. + +If the two sorts of causal laws could be sharply distinguished, +we could call an occurrence "physical" when it obeys causal laws +appropriate to the physical world, and "mental" when it obeys +causal laws appropriate to the mental world. Since the mental +world and the physical world interact, there would be a boundary +between the two: there would be events which would have physical +causes and mental effects, while there would be others which +would have mental causes and physical effects. Those that have +physical causes and mental effects we should define as +"sensations." Those that have mental causes and physical effects +might perhaps be identified with what we call voluntary +movements; but they do not concern us at present. + +These definitions would have all the precision that could be +desired if the distinction between physical and psychological +causation were clear and sharp. As a matter of fact, however, +this distinction is, as yet, by no means sharp. It is possible +that, with fuller knowledge, it will be found to be no more +ultimate than the distinction between the laws of gases and the +laws of rigid bodies. It also suffers from the fact that an event +may be an effect of several causes according to several causal +laws we cannot, in general, point to anything unique as THE cause +of such-and-such an event. And finally it is by no means certain +that the peculiar causal laws which govern mental events are not +really physiological. The law of habit, which is one of the most +distinctive, may be fully explicable in terms of the +peculiarities of nervous tissue, and these peculiarities, in +turn, may be explicable by the laws of physics. It seems, +therefore, that we are driven to a different kind of definition. +It is for this reason that it was necessary to develop the +definition of perception. With this definition, we can define a +sensation as the non-mnemic elements in a perception. + +When, following our definition, we try to decide what elements in +our experience are of the nature of sensations, we find more +difficulty than might have been expected. Prima facie, everything +is sensation that comes to us through the senses: the sights we +see, the sounds we hear, the smells we smell, and so on; also +such things as headache or the feeling of muscular strain. But in +actual fact so much interpretation, so much of habitual +correlation, is mixed with all such experiences, that the core of +pure sensation is only to be extracted by careful investigation. +To take a simple illustration: if you go to the theatre in your +own country, you seem to hear equally well in the stalls or the +dress circle; in either case you think you miss nothing. But if +you go in a foreign country where you have a fair knowledge of +the language, you will seem to have grown partially deaf, and you +will find it necessary to be much nearer the stage than you would +need to be in your own country. The reason is that, in hearing +our own language spoken, we quickly and unconsciously fill out +what we really hear with inferences to what the man must be +saying, and we never realize that we have not heard the words we +have merely inferred. In a foreign language, these inferences are +more difficult, and we are more dependent upon actual sensation. +If we found ourselves in a foreign world, where tables looked +like cushions and cushions like tables, we should similarly +discover how much of what we think we see is really inference. +Every fairly familiar sensation is to us a sign of the things +that usually go with it, and many of these things will seem to +form part of the sensation. I remember in the early days of +motor-cars being with a friend when a tyre burst with a loud +report. He thought it was a pistol, and supported his opinion by +maintaining that he had seen the flash. But of course there had +been no flash. Nowadays no one sees a flash when a tyre bursts. + +In order, therefore, to arrive at what really is sensation in an +occurrence which, at first sight, seems to contain nothing else, +we have to pare away all that is due to habit or expectation or +interpretation. This is a matter for the psychologist, and by no +means an easy matter. For our purposes, it is not important to +determine what exactly is the sensational core in any case; it is +only important to notice that there certainly is a sensational +core, since habit, expectation and interpretation are diversely +aroused on diverse occasions, and the diversity is clearly due to +differences in what is presented to the senses. When you open +your newspaper in the morning, the actual sensations of seeing +the print form a very minute part of what goes on in you, but +they are the starting-point of all the rest, and it is through +them that the newspaper is a means of information or +mis-information. Thus, although it may be difficult to determine +what exactly is sensation in any given experience, it is clear +that there is sensation, unless, like Leibniz, we deny all action +of the outer world upon us. + +Sensations are obviously the source of our knowledge of the +world, including our own body. It might seem natural to regard a +sensation as itself a cognition, and until lately I did so regard +it. When, say, I see a person I know coming towards me in the +street, it SEEMS as though the mere seeing were knowledge. It is +of course undeniable that knowledge comes THROUGH the seeing, but +I think it is a mistake to regard the mere seeing itself as +knowledge. If we are so to regard it, we must distinguish the +seeing from what is seen: we must say that, when we see a patch +of colour of a certain shape, the patch of colour is one thing +and our seeing of it is another. This view, however, demands the +admission of the subject, or act, in the sense discussed in our +first lecture. If there is a subject, it can have a relation to +the patch of colour, namely, the sort of relation which we might +call awareness. In that case the sensation, as a mental event, +will consist of awareness of the colour, while the colour itself +will remain wholly physical, and may be called the sense-datum, +to distinguish it from the sensation. The subject, however, +appears to be a logical fiction, like mathematical points and +instants. It is introduced, not because observation reveals it, +but because it is linguistically convenient and apparently +demanded by grammar. Nominal entities of this sort may or may not +exist, but there is no good ground for assuming that they do. The +functions that they appear to perform can always be performed by +classes or series or other logical constructions, consisting of +less dubious entities. If we are to avoid a perfectly gratuitous +assumption, we must dispense with the subject as one of the +actual ingredients of the world. But when we do this, the +possibility of distinguishing the sensation from the sense-datum +vanishes; at least I see no way of preserving the distinction. +Accordingly the sensation that we have when we see a patch of +colour simply is that patch of colour, an actual constituent of +the physical world, and part of what physics is concerned with. A +patch of colour is certainly not knowledge, and therefore we +cannot say that pure sensation is cognitive. Through its +psychological effects, it is the cause of cognitions, partly by +being itself a sign of things that are correlated with it, as +e.g. sensations of sight and touch are correlated, and partly by +giving rise to images and memories after the sensation is faded. +But in itself the pure sensation is not cognitive. + +In the first lecture we considered the view of Brentano, that "we +may define psychical phenomena by saying that they are phenomena +which intentionally contain an object." We saw reasons to reject +this view in general; we are now concerned to show that it must +be rejected in the particular case of sensations. The kind of +argument which formerly made me accept Brentano's view in this +case was exceedingly simple. When I see a patch of colour, it +seemed to me that the colour is not psychical, but physical, +while my seeing is not physical, but psychical. Hence I concluded +that the colour is something other than my seeing of the colour. +This argument, to me historically, was directed against idealism: +the emphatic part of it was the assertion that the colour is +physical, not psychical. I shall not trouble you now with the +grounds for holding as against Berkeley that the patch of colour +is physical; I have set them forth before, and I see no reason to +modify them. But it does not follow that the patch of colour is +not also psychical, unless we assume that the physical and the +psychical cannot overlap, which I no longer consider a valid +assumption. If we admit--as I think we should--that the patch of +colour may be both physical and psychical, the reason for +distinguishing the sense-datum from the sensation disappears, and +we may say that the patch of colour and our sensation in seeing +it are identical. + +This is the view of William James, Professor Dewey, and the +American realists. Perceptions, says Professor Dewey, are not per +se cases of knowledge, but simply natural events with no more +knowledge status than (say) a shower. "Let them [the realists] +try the experiment of conceiving perceptions as pure natural +events, not cases of awareness or apprehension, and they will be +surprised to see how little they miss."* I think he is right in +this, except in supposing that the realists will be surprised. +Many of them already hold the view he is advocating, and others +are very sympathetic to it. At any rate, it is the view which I +shall adopt in these lectures. + +* Dewey, "Essays in Experimental Logic," pp. 253, 262. + + +The stuff of the world, so far as we have experience of it, +consists, on the view that I am advocating, of innumerable +transient particulars such as occur in seeing, hearing, etc., +together with images more or less resembling these, of which I +shall speak shortly. If physics is true, there are, besides the +particulars that we experience, others, probably equally (or +almost equally) transient, which make up that part of the +material world that does not come into the sort of contact with a +living body that is required to turn it into a sensation. But +this topic belongs to the philosophy of physics, and need not +concern us in our present inquiry. + +Sensations are what is common to the mental and physical worlds; +they may be defined as the intersection of mind and matter. This +is by no means a new view; it is advocated, not only by the +American authors I have mentioned, but by Mach in his Analysis of +Sensations, which was published in 1886. The essence of +sensation, according to the view I am advocating, is its +independence of past experience. It is a core in our actual +experiences, never existing in isolation except possibly in very +young infants. It is not itself knowledge, but it supplies the +data for our knowledge of the physical world, including our own +bodies. + +There are some who believe that our mental life is built up out +of sensations alone. This may be true; but in any case I think +the only ingredients required in addition to sensations are +images. What images are, and how they are to be defined, we have +now to inquire. + +The distinction between images and sensations might seem at first +sight by no means difficult. When we shut our eyes and call up +pictures of familiar scenes, we usually have no difficulty, so +long as we remain awake, in discriminating between what we are +imagining and what is really seen. If we imagine some piece of +music that we know, we can go through it in our mind from +beginning to end without any discoverable tendency to suppose +that we are really hearing it. But although such cases are so +clear that no confusion seems possible, there are many others +that are far more difficult, and the definition of images is by +no means an easy problem. + +To begin with: we do not always know whether what we are +experiencing is a sensation or an image. The things we see in +dreams when our eyes are shut must count as images, yet while we +are dreaming they seem like sensations. Hallucinations often +begin as persistent images, and only gradually acquire that +influence over belief that makes the patient regard them as +sensations. When we are listening for a faint sound--the striking +of a distant clock, or a horse's hoofs on the road--we think we +hear it many times before we really do, because expectation +brings us the image, and we mistake it for sensation. The +distinction between images and sensations is, therefore, by no +means always obvious to inspection.* + +* On the distinction between images and sensation, cf. Semon, +"Die mnemischen Empfindungen," pp. 19-20. + + +We may consider three different ways in which it has been sought +to distinguish images from sensations, namely: + +(1) By the less degree of vividness in images; + +(2) By our absence of belief in their "physical reality"; + +(3) By the fact that their causes and effects are different from +those of sensations. + +I believe the third of these to be the only universally +applicable criterion. The other two are applicable in very many +cases, but cannot be used for purposes of definition because they +are liable to exceptions. Nevertheless, they both deserve to be +carefully considered. + +(1) Hume, who gives the names "impressions" and "ideas" to what +may, for present purposes, be identified with our "sensations" +and "images," speaks of impressions as "those perceptions which +enter with most force and violence" while he defines ideas as +"the faint images of these (i.e. of impressions) in thinking and +reasoning." His immediately following observations, however, show +the inadequacy of his criteria of "force" and "faintness." He +says: + +"I believe it will not be very necessary to employ many words in +explaining this distinction. Every one of himself will readily +perceive the difference betwixt feeling and thinking. The common +degrees of these are easily distinguished, though it is not +impossible but in particular instances they may very nearly +approach to each other. Thus in sleep, in a fever, in madness, or +in any very violent emotions of soul, our ideas may approach to +our impressions; as, on the other hand, it sometimes happens, +that our impressions are so faint and low that we cannot +distinguish them from our ideas. But notwithstanding this near +resemblance in a few instances, they are in general so very +different, that no one can make a scruple to rank them under +distinct heads, and assign to each a peculiar name to mark the +difference" ("Treatise of Human Nature," Part I, Section I). + +I think Hume is right in holding that they should be ranked under +distinct heads, with a peculiar name for each. But by his own +confession in the above passage, his criterion for distinguishing +them is not always adequate. A definition is not sound if it only +applies in cases where the difference is glaring: the essential +purpose of a definition is to provide a mark which is applicable +even in marginal cases--except, of course, when we are dealing +with a conception, like, e.g. baldness, which is one of degree +and has no sharp boundaries. But so far we have seen no reason to +think that the difference between sensations and images is only +one of degree. + +Professor Stout, in his "Manual of Psychology," after discussing +various ways of distinguishing sensations and images, arrives at +a view which is a modification of Hume's. He says (I quote from +the second edition): + +"Our conclusion is that at bottom the distinction between image +and percept, as respectively faint and vivid states, is based on +a difference of quality. The percept has an aggressiveness which +does not belong to the image. It strikes the mind with varying +degrees of force or liveliness according to the varying intensity +of the stimulus. This degree of force or liveliness is part of +what we ordinarily mean by the intensity of a sensation. But this +constituent of the intensity of sensations is absent in mental +imagery"(p. 419). + +This view allows for the fact that sensations may reach any +degree of faintness--e.g. in the case of a just visible star or a +just audible sound--without becoming images, and that therefore +mere faintness cannot be the characteristic mark of images. After +explaining the sudden shock of a flash of lightning or a +steam-whistle, Stout says that "no mere image ever does strike +the mind in this manner"(p. 417). But I believe that this +criterion fails in very much the same instances as those in which +Hume's criterion fails in its original form. Macbeth speaks of-- + + + that suggestion Whose horrid image doth unfix my +hair And make my seated heart knock at my ribs Against +the use of nature. + +The whistle of a steam-engine could hardly have a stronger effect +than this. A very intense emotion will often bring with +it--especially where some future action or some undecided issue +is involved--powerful compelling images which may determine the +whole course of life, sweeping aside all contrary solicitations +to the will by their capacity for exclusively possessing the +mind. And in all cases where images, originally recognized as +such, gradually pass into hallucinations, there must be just that +"force or liveliness" which is supposed to be always absent from +images. The cases of dreams and fever-delirium are as hard to +adjust to Professor Stout's modified criterion as to Hume's. I +conclude therefore that the test of liveliness, however +applicable in ordinary instances, cannot be used to define the +differences between sensations and images. + +(2) We might attempt to distinguish images from sensations by our +absence of belief in the "physical reality" of images. When we +are aware that what we are experiencing is an image, we do not +give it the kind of belief that we should give to a sensation: we +do not think that it has the same power of producing knowledge of +the "external world." Images are "imaginary"; in SOME sense they +are "unreal." But this difference is hard to analyse or state +correctly. What we call the "unreality" of images requires +interpretation it cannot mean what would be expressed by saying +"there's no such thing." Images are just as truly part of the +actual world as sensations are. All that we really mean by +calling an image "unreal" is that it does not have the +concomitants which it would have if it were a sensation. When we +call up a visual image of a chair, we do not attempt to sit in +it, because we know that, like Macbeth's dagger, it is not +"sensible to feeling as to sight"-- i.e. it does not have the +correlations with tactile sensations which it would have if it +were a visual sensation and not merely a visual image. But this +means that the so-called "unreality" of images consists merely in +their not obeying the laws of physics, and thus brings us back to +the causal distinction between images and sensations. + +This view is confirmed by the fact that we only feel images to be +"unreal" when we already know them to be images. Images cannot be +defined by the FEELING of unreality, because when we falsely +believe an image to be a sensation, as in the case of dreams, it +FEELS just as real as if it were a sensation. Our feeling of +unreality results from our having already realized that we are +dealing with an image, and cannot therefore be the definition of +what we mean by an image. As soon as an image begins to deceive +us as to its status, it also deceives us as to its correlations, +which are what we mean by its "reality." + +(3) This brings us to the third mode of distinguishing images +from sensations, namely, by their causes and effects. I believe +this to be the only valid ground of distinction. James, in the +passage about the mental fire which won't burn real sticks, +distinguishes images by their effects, but I think the more +reliable distinction is by their causes. Professor Stout (loc. +cit., p. 127) says: "One characteristic mark of what we agree in +calling sensation is its mode of production. It is caused by what +we call a STIMULUS. A stimulus is always some condition external +to the nervous system itself and operating upon it." I think that +this is the correct view, and that the distinction between images +and sensations can only be made by taking account of their +causation. Sensations come through sense-organs, while images do +not. We cannot have visual sensations in the dark, or with our +eyes shut, but we can very well have visual images under these +circumstances. Accordingly images have been defined as "centrally +excited sensations," i.e. sensations which have their +physiological cause in the brain only, not also in the +sense-organs and the nerves that run from the sense-organs to the +brain. I think the phrase "centrally excited sensations" assumes +more than is necessary, since it takes it for granted that an +image must have a proximate physiological cause. This is probably +true, but it is an hypothesis, and for our purposes an +unnecessary one. It would seem to fit better with what we can +immediately observe if we were to say that an image is +occasioned, through association, by a sensation or another image, +in other words that it has a mnemic cause--which does not prevent +it from also having a physical cause. And I think it will be +found that the causation of an image always proceeds according to +mnemic laws, i.e. that it is governed by habit and past +experience. If you listen to a man playing the pianola without +looking at him, you will have images of his hands on the keys as +if he were playing the piano; if you suddenly look at him while +you are absorbed in the music, you will experience a shock of +surprise when you notice that his hands are not touching the +notes. Your image of his hands is due to the many times that you +have heard similar sounds and at the same time seen the player's +hands on the piano. When habit and past experience play this +part, we are in the region of mnemic as opposed to ordinary +physical causation. And I think that, if we could regard as +ultimately valid the difference between physical and mnemic +causation, we could distinguish images from sensations as having +mnemic causes, though they may also have physical causes. +Sensations, on the other hand, will only have physical causes. + +However this may be, the practically effective distinction +between sensations and images is that in the causation of +sensations, but not of images, the stimulation of nerves carrying +an effect into the brain, usually from the surface of the body, +plays an essential part. And this accounts for the fact that +images and sensations cannot always be distinguished by their +intrinsic nature. + +Images also differ from sensations as regards their effects. +Sensations, as a rule, have both physical and mental effects. As +you watch the train you meant to catch leaving the station, there +are both the successive positions of the train (physical effects) +and the successive waves of fury and disappointment (mental +effects). Images, on the contrary, though they MAY produce bodily +movements, do so according to mnemic laws, not according to the +laws of physics. All their effects, of whatever nature, follow +mnemic laws. But this difference is less suitable for definition +than the difference as to causes. + +Professor Watson, as a logical carrying-out of his behaviourist +theory, denies altogether that there are any observable phenomena +such as images are supposed to be. He replaces them all by faint +sensations, and especially by pronunciation of words sotto voce. +When we "think" of a table (say), as opposed to seeing it, what +happens, according to him, is usually that we are making small +movements of the throat and tongue such as would lead to our +uttering the word "table" if they were more pronounced. I shall +consider his view again in connection with words; for the present +I am only concerned to combat his denial of images. This denial +is set forth both in his book on "Behavior" and in an article +called "Image and Affection in Behavior" in the "Journal of +Philosophy, Psychology and Scientific Methods," vol. x (July, +1913). It seems to me that in this matter he has been betrayed +into denying plain facts in the interests of a theory, namely, +the supposed impossibility of introspection. I dealt with the +theory in Lecture VI; for the present I wish to reinforce the +view that the facts are undeniable. + +Images are of various sorts, according to the nature of the +sensations which they copy. Images of bodily movements, such as +we have when we imagine moving an arm or, on a smaller scale, +pronouncing a word, might possibly be explained away on Professor +Watson's lines, as really consisting in small incipient movements +such as, if magnified and prolonged, would be the movements we +are said to be imagining. Whether this is the case or not might +even be decided experimentally. If there were a delicate +instrument for recording small movements in the mouth and throat, +we might place such an instrument in a person's mouth and then +tell him to recite a poem to himself, as far as possible only in +imagination. I should not be at all surprised if it were found +that actual small movements take place while he is "mentally" +saying over the verses. The point is important, because what is +called "thought" consists mainly (though I think not wholly) of +inner speech. If Professor Watson is right as regards inner +speech, this whole region is transferred from imagination to +sensation. But since the question is capable of experimental +decision, it would be gratuitous rashness to offer an opinion +while that decision is lacking. + +But visual and auditory images are much more difficult to deal +with in this way, because they lack the connection with physical +events in the outer world which belongs to visual and auditory +sensations. Suppose, for example, that I am sitting in my room, +in which there is an empty arm-chair. I shut my eyes, and call up +a visual image of a friend sitting in the arm-chair. If I thrust +my image into the world of physics, it contradicts all the usual +physical laws. My friend reached the chair without coming in at +the door in the usual way; subsequent inquiry will show that he +was somewhere else at the moment. If regarded as a sensation, my +image has all the marks of the supernatural. My image, therefore, +is regarded as an event in me, not as having that position in the +orderly happenings of the public world that belongs to +sensations. By saying that it is an event in me, we leave it +possible that it may be PHYSIOLOGICALLY caused: its privacy may +be only due to its connection with my body. But in any case it is +not a public event, like an actual person walking in at the door +and sitting down in my chair. And it cannot, like inner speech, +be regarded as a SMALL sensation, since it occupies just as large +an area in my visual field as the actual sensation would do. + +Professor Watson says: "I should throw out imagery altogether and +attempt to show that all natural thought goes on in terms of +sensori-motor processes in the larynx." This view seems to me +flatly to contradict experience. If you try to persuade any +uneducated person that she cannot call up a visual picture of a +friend sitting in a chair, but can only use words describing what +such an occurrence would be like, she will conclude that you are +mad. (This statement is based upon experiment.) Galton, as every +one knows, investigated visual imagery, and found that education +tends to kill it: the Fellows of the Royal Society turned out to +have much less of it than their wives. I see no reason to doubt +his conclusion that the habit of abstract pursuits makes learned +men much inferior to the average in power of visualizing, and +much more exclusively occupied with words in their "thinking." +And Professor Watson is a very learned man. + +I shall henceforth assume that the existence of images is +admitted, and that they are to be distinguished from sensations +by their causes, as well as, in a lesser degree, by their +effects. In their intrinsic nature, though they often differ from +sensations by being more dim or vague or faint, yet they do not +always or universally differ from sensations in any way that can +be used for defining them. Their privacy need form no bar to the +scientific study of them, any more than the privacy of bodily +sensations does. Bodily sensations are admitted by even the most +severe critics of introspection, although, like images, they can +only be observed by one observer. It must be admitted, however, +that the laws of the appearance and disappearance of images are +little known and difficult to discover, because we are not +assisted, as in the case of sensations, by our knowledge of the +physical world. + +There remains one very important point concerning images, which +will occupy us much hereafter, and that is, their resemblance to +previous sensations. They are said to be "copies" of sensations, +always as regards the simple qualities that enter into them, +though not always as regards the manner in which these are put +together. It is generally believed that we cannot imagine a shade +of colour that we have never seen, or a sound that we have never +heard. On this subject Hume is the classic. He says, in the +definitions already quoted: + +"Those perceptions, which enter with most force and violence, we +may name IMPRESSIONS; and under this name I comprehend all our +sensations, passions and emotions, as they make their first +appearance in the soul. By IDEAS I mean the faint images of these +in thinking and reasoning." + +He next explains the difference between simple and complex ideas, +and explains that a complex idea may occur without any similar +complex impression. But as regards simple ideas, he states that +"every simple idea has a simple impression, which resembles it, +and every simple impression a correspondent idea." He goes on to +enunciate the general principle "that all our simple ideas in +their first appearance are derived from simple impressions, which +are correspondent to them, and which they exactly represent" +("Treatise of Human Nature," Part I, Section I). + +It is this fact, that images resemble antecedent sensations, +which enables us to call them images "of" this or that. For the +understanding of memory, and of knowledge generally, the +recognizable resemblance of images and sensations is of +fundamental importance. + +There are difficulties in establishing Hume's principles, and +doubts as to whether it is exactly true. Indeed, he himself +signalized an exception immediately after stating his maxim. +Nevertheless, it is impossible to doubt that in the main simple +images are copies of similar simple sensations which have +occurred earlier, and that the same is true of complex images in +all cases of memory as opposed to mere imagination. Our power of +acting with reference to what is sensibly absent is largely due +to this characteristic of images, although, as education +advances, images tend to be more and more replaced by words. We +shall have much to say in the next two lectures on the subject of +images as copies of sensations. What has been said now is merely +by way of reminder that this is their most notable +characteristic. + +I am by no means confident that the distinction between images +and sensations is ultimately valid, and I should be glad to be +convinced that images can be reduced to sensations of a peculiar +kind. I think it is clear, however, that, at any rate in the case +of auditory and visual images, they do differ from ordinary +auditory and visual sensations, and therefore form a recognizable +class of occurrences, even if it should prove that they can be +regarded as a sub-class of sensations. This is all that is +necessary to validate the use of images to be made in the sequel. + + + +LECTURE IX. MEMORY + +Memory, which we are to consider to-day, introduces us to +knowledge in one of its forms. The analysis of knowledge will +occupy us until the end of the thirteenth lecture, and is the +most difficult part of our whole enterprise. + +I do not myself believe that the analysis of knowledge can be +effected entirely by means of purely external observation, such +as behaviourists employ. I shall discuss this question in later +lectures. In the present lecture I shall attempt the analysis of +memory-knowledge, both as an introduction to the problem of +knowledge in general, and because memory, in some form, is +presupposed in almost all other knowledge. Sensation, we decided, +is not a form of knowledge. It might, however, have been expected +that we should begin our discussion of knowledge with PERCEPTION, +i.e. with that integral experience of things in the environment, +out of which sensation is extracted by psychological analysis. +What is called perception differs from sensation by the fact that +the sensational ingredients bring up habitual associates--images +and expectations of their usual correlates--all of which are +subjectively indistinguishable from the sensation. The FACT of +past experience is essential in producing this filling-out of +sensation, but not the RECOLLECTION of past experience. The +non-sensational elements in perception can be wholly explained as +the result of habit, produced by frequent correlations. +Perception, according to our definition in Lecture VII, is no +more a form of knowledge than sensation is, except in so far as +it involves expectations. The purely psychological problems which +it raises are not very difficult, though they have sometimes been +rendered artificially obscure by unwillingness to admit the +fallibility of the non-sensational elements of perception. On the +other hand, memory raises many difficult and very important +problems, which it is necessary to consider at the first possible +moment. + +One reason for treating memory at this early stage is that it +seems to be involved in the fact that images are recognized as +"copies" of past sensible experience. In the preceding lecture I +alluded to Hume's principle "that all our simple ideas in their +first appearance are derived from simple impressions, which are +correspondent to them, and which they exactly represent." Whether +or not this principle is liable to exceptions, everyone would +agree that is has a broad measure of truth, though the word +"exactly" might seem an overstatement, and it might seem more +correct to say that ideas APPROXIMATELY represent impressions. +Such modifications of Hume's principle, however, do not affect +the problem which I wish to present for your consideration, +namely: Why do we believe that images are, sometimes or always, +approximately or exactly, copies of sensations? What sort of +evidence is there? And what sort of evidence is logically +possible? The difficulty of this question arises through the fact +that the sensation which an image is supposed to copy is in the +past when the image exists, and can therefore only be known by +memory, while, on the other hand, memory of past sensations seems +only possible by means of present images. How, then, are we to +find any way of comparing the present image and the past +sensation? The problem is just as acute if we say that images +differ from their prototypes as if we say that they resemble +them; it is the very possibility of comparison that is hard to +understand.* We think we can know that they are alike or +different, but we cannot bring them together in one experience +and compare them. To deal with this problem, we must have a +theory of memory. In this way the whole status of images as +"copies" is bound up with the analysis of memory. + +* How, for example, can we obtain such knowledge as the +following: "If we look at, say, a red nose and perceive it, and +after a little while ekphore, its memory-image, we note +immediately how unlike, in its likeness, this memory-image is to +the original perception" (A. Wohlgemuth, "On the Feelings and +their Neural Correlate with an Examination of the Nature of +Pain," "Journal of Psychology," vol. viii, part iv, June, 1917). + + +In investigating memory-beliefs, there are certain points which +must be borne in mind. In the first place, everything +constituting a memory-belief is happening now, not in that past +time to which the belief is said to refer. It is not logically +necessary to the existence of a memory-belief that the event +remembered should have occurred, or even that the past should +have existed at all. There is no logical impossibility in the +hypothesis that the world sprang into being five minutes ago, +exactly as it then was, with a population that "remembered" a +wholly unreal past. There is no logically necessary connection +between events at different times; therefore nothing that is +happening now or will happen in the future can disprove the +hypothesis that the world began five minutes ago. Hence the +occurrences which are CALLED knowledge of the past are logically +independent of the past; they are wholly analysable into present +contents, which might, theoretically, be just what they are even +if no past had existed. + +I am not suggesting that the non-existence of the past should be +entertained as a serious hypothesis. Like all sceptical +hypotheses, it is logically tenable, but uninteresting. All that +I am doing is to use its logical tenability as a help in the +analysis of what occurs when we remember. + +In the second place, images without beliefs are insufficient to +constitute memory; and habits are still more insufficient. The +behaviourist, who attempts to make psychology a record of +behaviour, has to trust his memory in making the record. "Habit" +is a concept involving the occurrence of similar events at +different times; if the behaviourist feels confident that there +is such a phenomenon as habit, that can only be because he trusts +his memory, when it assures him that there have been other times. +And the same applies to images. If we are to know as it is +supposed we do--that images are "copies," accurate or inaccurate, +of past events, something more than the mere occurrence of images +must go to constitute this knowledge. For their mere occurrence, +by itself, would not suggest any connection with anything that +had happened before. + +Can we constitute memory out of images together with suitable +beliefs? We may take it that memory-images, when they occur in +true memory, are (a) known to be copies, (b) sometimes known to +be imperfect copies (cf. footnote on previous page). How is it +possible to know that a memory-image is an imperfect copy, +without having a more accurate copy by which to replace it? This +would SEEM to suggest that we have a way of knowing the past +which is independent of images, by means of which we can +criticize image-memories. But I do not think such an inference is +warranted. + +What results, formally, from our knowledge of the past through +images of which we recognize the inaccuracy, is that such images +must have two characteristics by which we can arrange them in two +series, of which one corresponds to the more or less remote +period in the past to which they refer, and the other to our +greater or less confidence in their accuracy. We will take the +second of these points first. + +Our confidence or lack of confidence in the accuracy of a +memory-image must, in fundamental cases, be based upon a +characteristic of the image itself, since we cannot evoke the +past bodily and compare it with the present image. It might be +suggested that vagueness is the required characteristic, but I do +not think this is the case. We sometimes have images that are by +no means peculiarly vague, which yet we do not trust--for +example, under the influence of fatigue we may see a friend's +face vividly and clearly, but horribly distorted. In such a case +we distrust our image in spite of its being unusually clear. I +think the characteristic by which we distinguish the images we +trust is the feeling of FAMILIARITY that accompanies them. Some +images, like some sensations, feel very familiar, while others +feel strange. Familiarity is a feeling capable of degrees. In an +image of a well-known face, for example, some parts may feel more +familiar than others; when this happens, we have more belief in +the accuracy of the familiar parts than in that of the unfamiliar +parts. I think it is by this means that we become critical of +images, not by some imageless memory with which we compare them. +I shall return to the consideration of familiarity shortly. + +I come now to the other characteristic which memory-images must +have in order to account for our knowledge of the past. They must +have some characteristic which makes us regard them as referring +to more or less remote portions of the past. That is to say if we +suppose that A is the event remembered, B the remembering, and t +the interval of time between A and B, there must be some +characteristic of B which is capable of degrees, and which, in +accurately dated memories, varies as t varies. It may increase as +t increases, or diminish as t increases. The question which of +these occurs is not of any importance for the theoretic +serviceability of the characteristic in question. + +In actual fact, there are doubtless various factors that concur +in giving us the feeling of greater or less remoteness in some +remembered event. There may be a specific feeling which could be +called the feeling of "pastness," especially where immediate +memory is concerned. But apart from this, there are other marks. +One of these is context. A recent memory has, usually, more +context than a more distant one. When a remembered event has a +remembered context, this may occur in two ways, either (a) by +successive images in the same order as their prototypes, or (b) +by remembering a whole process simultaneously, in the same way in +which a present process may be apprehended, through akoluthic +sensations which, by fading, acquire the mark of just-pastness in +an increasing degree as they fade, and are thus placed in a +series while all sensibly present. It will be context in this +second sense, more specially, that will give us a sense of the +nearness or remoteness of a remembered event. + +There is, of course, a difference between knowing the temporal +relation of a remembered event to the present, and knowing the +time-order of two remembered events. Very often our knowledge of +the temporal relation of a remembered event to the present is +inferred from its temporal relations to other remembered events. +It would seem that only rather recent events can be placed at all +accurately by means of feelings giving their temporal relation to +the present, but it is clear that such feelings must play an +essential part in the process of dating remembered events. + +We may say, then, that images are regarded by us as more or less +accurate copies of past occurrences because they come to us with +two sorts of feelings: (1) Those that may be called feelings of +familiarity; (2) those that may be collected together as feelings +giving a sense of pastness. The first lead us to trust our +memories, the second to assign places to them in the time-order. + +We have now to analyse the memory-belief, as opposed to the +characteristics of images which lead us to base memory-beliefs +upon them. + +If we had retained the "subject" or "act" in knowledge, the whole +problem of memory would have been comparatively simple. We could +then have said that remembering is a direct relation between the +present act or subject and the past occurrence remembered: the +act of remembering is present, though its object is past. But the +rejection of the subject renders some more complicated theory +necessary. Remembering has to be a present occurrence in some way +resembling, or related to, what is remembered. And it is +difficult to find any ground, except a pragmatic one, for +supposing that memory is not sheer delusion, if, as seems to be +the case, there is not, apart from memory, any way of +ascertaining that there really was a past occurrence having the +required relation to our present remembering. What, if we +followed Meinong's terminology, we should call the "object" in +memory, i.e. the past event which we are said to be remembering, +is unpleasantly remote from the "content," i.e. the present +mental occurrence in remembering. There is an awkward gulf +between the two, which raises difficulties for the theory of +knowledge. But we must not falsify observation to avoid +theoretical difficulties. For the present, therefore, let us +forget these problems, and try to discover what actually occurs +in memory. + +Some points may be taken as fixed, and such as any theory of +memory must arrive at. In this case, as in most others, what may +be taken as certain in advance is rather vague. The study of any +topic is like the continued observation of an object which is +approaching us along a road: what is certain to begin with is the +quite vague knowledge that there is SOME object on the road. If +you attempt to be less vague, and to assert that the object is an +elephant, or a man, or a mad dog, you run a risk of error; but +the purpose of continued observation is to enable you to arrive +at such more precise knowledge. In like manner, in the study of +memory, the certainties with which you begin are very vague, and +the more precise propositions at which you try to arrive are less +certain than the hazy data from which you set out. Nevertheless, +in spite of the risk of error, precision is the goal at which we +must aim. + +The first of our vague but indubitable data is that there is +knowledge of the past. We do not yet know with any precision what +we mean by "knowledge," and we must admit that in any given +instance our memory may be at fault. Nevertheless, whatever a +sceptic might urge in theory, we cannot practically doubt that we +got up this morning, that we did various things yesterday, that a +great war has been taking place, and so on. How far our knowledge +of the past is due to memory, and how far to other sources, is of +course a matter to be investigated, but there can be no doubt +that memory forms an indispensable part of our knowledge of the +past. + +The second datum is that we certainly have more capacity for +knowing the past than for knowing the future. We know some things +about the future, for example what eclipses there will be; but +this knowledge is a matter of elaborate calculation and +inference, whereas some of our knowledge of the past comes to us +without effort, in the same sort of immediate way in which we +acquire knowledge of occurrences in our present environment. We +might provisionally, though perhaps not quite correctly, define +"memory" as that way of knowing about the past which has no +analogue in our knowledge of the future; such a definition would +at least serve to mark the problem with which we are concerned, +though some expectations may deserve to rank with memory as +regards immediacy. + +A third point, perhaps not quite so certain as our previous two, +is that the truth of memory cannot be wholly practical, as +pragmatists wish all truth to be. It seems clear that some of the +things I remember are trivial and without any visible importance +for the future, but that my memory is true (or false) in virtue +of a past event, not in virtue of any future consequences of my +belief. The definition of truth as the correspondence between +beliefs and facts seems peculiarly evident in the case of memory, +as against not only the pragmatist definition but also the +idealist definition by means of coherence. These considerations, +however, are taking us away from psychology, to which we must now +return. + +It is important not to confuse the two forms of memory which +Bergson distinguishes in the second chapter of his "Matter and +Memory," namely the sort that consists of habit, and the sort +that consists of independent recollection. He gives the instance +of learning a lesson by heart: when I know it by heart I am said +to "remember" it, but this merely means that I have acquired +certain habits; on the other hand, my recollection of (say) the +second time I read the lesson while I was learning it is the +recollection of a unique event, which occurred only once. The +recollection of a unique event cannot, so Bergson contends, be +wholly constituted by habit, and is in fact something radically +different from the memory which is habit. The recollection alone +is true memory. This distinction is vital to the understanding of +memory. But it is not so easy to carry out in practice as it is +to draw in theory. Habit is a very intrusive feature of our +mental life, and is often present where at first sight it seems +not to be. There is, for example, a habit of remembering a unique +event. When we have once described the event, the words we have +used easily become habitual. We may even have used words to +describe it to ourselves while it was happening; in that case, +the habit of these words may fulfil the function of Bergson's +true memory, while in reality it is nothing but habit-memory. A +gramophone, by the help of suitable records, might relate to us +the incidents of its past; and people are not so different from +gramophones as they like to believe. + +In spite, however, of a difficulty in distinguishing the two +forms of memory in practice, there can be no doubt that both +forms exist. I can set to work now to remember things I never +remembered before, such as what I had to eat for breakfast this +morning, and it can hardly be wholly habit that enables me to do +this. It is this sort of occurrence that constitutes the essence +of memory Until we have analysed what happens in such a case as +this, we have not succeeded in understanding memory. + +The sort of memory with which we are here concerned is the sort +which is a form of knowledge. Whether knowledge itself is +reducible to habit is a question to which I shall return in a +later lecture; for the present I am only anxious to point out +that, whatever the true analysis of knowledge may be, knowledge +of past occurrences is not proved by behaviour which is due to +past experience. The fact that a man can recite a poem does not +show that he remembers any previous occasion on which he has +recited or read it. Similarly, the performances of animals in +getting out of cages or mazes to which they are accustomed do not +prove that they remember having been in the same situation +before. Arguments in favour of (for example) memory in plants are +only arguments in favour of habit-memory, not of knowledge- +memory. Samuel Butler's arguments in favour of the view that an +animal remembers something of the lives of its ancestors* are, +when examined, only arguments in favour of habit-memory. Semon's +two books, mentioned in an earlier lecture, do not touch +knowledge-memory at all closely. They give laws according to +which images of past occurrences come into our minds, but do not +discuss our belief that these images refer to past occurrences, +which is what constitutes knowledge-memory. It is this that is of +interest to theory of knowledge. I shall speak of it as "true" +memory, to distinguish it from mere habit acquired through past +experience. Before considering true memory, it will be well to +consider two things which are on the way towards memory, namely +the feeling of familiarity and recognition. + +* See his "Life and Habit and Unconscious Memory." + + +We often feel that something in our sensible environment is +familiar, without having any definite recollection of previous +occasions on which we have seen it. We have this feeling normally +in places where we have often been before--at home, or in +well-known streets. Most people and animals find it essential to +their happiness to spend a good deal of their time in familiar +surroundings, which are especially comforting when any danger +threatens. The feeling of familiarity has all sorts of degrees, +down to the stage where we dimly feel that we have seen a person +before. It is by no means always reliable; almost everybody has +at some time experienced the well-known illusion that all that is +happening now happened before at some time. There are occasions +when familiarity does not attach itself to any definite object, +when there is merely a vague feeling that SOMETHING is familiar. +This is illustrated by Turgenev's "Smoke," where the hero is long +puzzled by a haunting sense that something in his present is +recalling something in his past, and at last traces it to the +smell of heliotrope. Whenever the sense of familiarity occurs +without a definite object, it leads us to search the environment +until we are satisfied that we have found the appropriate object, +which leads us to the judgment: "THIS is familiar." I think we +may regard familiarity as a definite feeling, capable of existing +without an object, but normally standing in a specific relation +to some feature of the environment, the relation being that which +we express in words by saying that the feature in question is +familiar. The judgment that what is familiar has been experienced +before is a product of reflection, and is no part of the feeling +of familiarity, such as a horse may be supposed to have when he +returns to his stable. Thus no knowledge as to the past is to be +derived from the feeling of familiarity alone. + +A further stage is RECOGNITION. This may be taken in two senses, +the first when a thing not merely feels familiar, but we know it +is such-and-such. We recognize our friend Jones, we know cats and +dogs when we see them, and so on. Here we have a definite +influence of past experience, but not necessarily any actual +knowledge of the past. When we see a cat, we know it is a cat +because of previous cats we have seen, but we do not, as a rule, +recollect at the moment any particular occasion when we have seen +a cat. Recognition in this sense does not necessarily involve +more than a habit of association: the kind of object we are +seeing at the moment is associated with the word "cat," or with +an auditory image of purring, or whatever other characteristic we +may happen to recognize in. the cat of the moment. We are, of +course, in fact able to judge, when we recognize an object, that +we have seen it before, but this judgment is something over and +above recognition in this first sense, and may very probably be +impossible to animals that nevertheless have the experience of +recognition in this first sense of the word. + +There is, however, another sense of the word, in which we mean by +recognition, not knowing the name of a thing or some other +property of it, but knowing that we have seen it before In this +sense recognition does involve knowledge about the Fast. This +knowledge is memory in one sense, though in another it is not. It +does not involve a definite memory of a definite past event, but +only the knowledge that something happening now is similar to +something that happened before. It differs from the sense of +familiarity by being cognitive; it is a belief or judgment, which +the sense of familiarity is not. I do not wish to undertake the +analysis of belief at present, since it will be the subject of +the twelfth lecture; for the present I merely wish to emphasize +the fact that recognition, in our second sense, consists in a +belief, which we may express approximately in the words: "This +has existed before." + +There are, however, several points in which such an account of +recognition is inadequate. To begin with, it might seem at first +sight more correct to define recognition as "I have seen this +before" than as "this has existed before." We recognize a thing +(it may be urged) as having been in our experience before, +whatever that may mean; we do not recognize it as merely having +been in the world before. I am not sure that there is anything +substantial in this point. The definition of "my experience" is +difficult; broadly speaking, it is everything that is connected +with what I am experiencing now by certain links, of which the +various forms of memory are among the most important. Thus, if I +recognize a thing, the occasion of its previous existence in +virtue of which I recognize it forms part of "my experience" by +DEFINITION: recognition will be one of the marks by which my +experience is singled out from the rest of the world. Of course, +the words "this has existed before" are a very inadequate +translation of what actually happens when we form a judgment of +recognition, but that is unavoidable: words are framed to express +a level of thought which is by no means primitive, and are quite +incapable of expressing such an elementary occurrence as +recognition. I shall return to what is virtually the same +question in connection with true memory, which raises exactly +similar problems. + +A second point is that, when we recognize something, it was not +in fact the very same thing, but only something similar, that we +experienced on a former occasion. Suppose the object in question +is a friend's face. A person's face is always changing, and is +not exactly the same on any two occasions. Common sense treats it +as one face with varying expressions; but the varying expressions +actually exist, each at its proper time, while the one face is +merely a logical construction. We regard two objects as the same, +for common-sense purposes, when the reaction they call for is +practically the same. Two visual appearances, to both of which it +is appropriate to say: "Hullo, Jones!" are treated as appearances +of one identical object, namely Jones. The name "Jones" is +applicable to both, and it is only reflection that shows us that +many diverse particulars are collected together to form the +meaning of the name "Jones." What we see on any one occasion is +not the whole series of particulars that make up Jones, but only +one of them (or a few in quick succession). On another occasion +we see another member of the series, but it is sufficiently +similar to count as the same from the standpoint of common sense. +Accordingly, when we judge "I have seen THIS before," we judge +falsely if "this" is taken as applying to the actual constituent +of the world that we are seeing at the moment. The word "this" +must be interpreted vaguely so as to include anything +sufficiently like what we are seeing at the moment. Here, again, +we shall find a similar point as regards true memory; and in +connection with true memory we will consider the point again. It +is sometimes suggested, by those who favour behaviourist views, +that recognition consists in behaving in the same way when a +stimulus is repeated as we behaved on the first occasion when it +occurred. This seems to be the exact opposite of the truth. The +essence of recognition is in the DIFFERENCE between a repeated +stimulus and a new one. On the first occasion there is no +recognition; on the second occasion there is. In fact, +recognition is another instance of the peculiarity of causal laws +in psychology, namely, that the causal unit is not a single +event, but two or more events Habit is the great instance of +this, but recognition is another. A stimulus occurring once has a +certain effect; occurring twice, it has the further effect of +recognition. Thus the phenomenon of recognition has as its cause +the two occasions when the stimulus has occurred; either alone is +insufficient. This complexity of causes in psychology might be +connected with Bergson's arguments against repetition in the +mental world. It does not prove that there are no causal laws in +psychology, as Bergson suggests; but it does prove that the +causal laws of psychology are Prima facie very different from +those of physics. On the possibility of explaining away the +difference as due to the peculiarities of nervous tissue I have +spoken before, but this possibility must not be forgotten if we +are tempted to draw unwarranted metaphysical deductions. + +True memory, which we must now endeavour to understand, consists +of knowledge of past events, but not of all such knowledge. Some +knowledge of past events, for example what we learn through +reading history, is on a par with the knowledge we can acquire +concerning the future: it is obtained by inference, not (so to +speak) spontaneously. There is a similar distinction in our +knowledge of the present: some of it is obtained through the +senses, some in more indirect ways. I know that there are at this +moment a number of people in the streets of New York, but I do +not know this in the immediate way in which I know of the people +whom I see by looking out of my window. It is not easy to state +precisely wherein the difference between these two sorts of +knowledge consists, but it is easy to feel the difference. For +the moment, I shall not stop to analyse it, but shall content +myself with saying that, in this respect, memory resembles the +knowledge derived from the senses. It is immediate, not inferred, +not abstract; it differs from perception mainly by being referred +to the past. + +In regard to memory, as throughout the analysis of knowledge, +there are two very distinct problems, namely (1) as to the nature +of the present occurrence in knowing; (2) as to the relation of +this occurrence to what is known. When we remember, the knowing +is now, while what is known is in the past. Our two questions +are, in the case of memory + +(1) What is the present occurrence when we remember? + +(2) What is the relation of this present occurrence to the past +event which is remembered? + +Of these two questions, only the first concerns the psychologist; +the second belongs to theory of knowledge. At the same time, if +we accept the vague datum with which we began, to the effect +that, in some sense, there is knowledge of the past, we shall +have to find, if we can, such an account of the present +occurrence in remembering as will make it not impossible for +remembering to give us knowledge of the past. For the present, +however, we shall do well to forget the problems concerning +theory of knowledge, and concentrate upon the purely +psychological problem of memory. + +Between memory-image and sensation there is an intermediate +experience concerning the immediate past. For example, a sound +that we have just heard is present to us in a way which differs +both from the sensation while we are hearing the sound and from +the memory-image of something heard days or weeks ago. James +states that it is this way of apprehending the immediate past +that is "the ORIGINAL of our experience of pastness, from whence +we get the meaning of the term"("Psychology," i, p. 604). +Everyone knows the experience of noticing (say) that the clock +HAS BEEN striking, when we did not notice it while it was +striking. And when we hear a remark spoken, we are conscious of +the earlier words while the later ones are being uttered, and +this retention feels different from recollection of something +definitely past. A sensation fades gradually, passing by +continuous gradations to the status of an image. This retention +of the immediate past in a condition intermediate between +sensation and image may be called "immediate memory." Everything +belonging to it is included with sensation in what is called the +"specious present." The specious present includes elements at all +stages on the journey from sensation to image. It is this fact +that enables us to apprehend such things as movements, or the +order of the words in a spoken sentence. Succession can occur +within the specious present, of which we can distinguish some +parts as earlier and others as later. It is to be supposed that +the earliest parts are those that have faded most from their +original force, while the latest parts are those that retain +their full sensational character. At the beginning of a stimulus +we have a sensation; then a gradual transition; and at the end an +image. Sensations while they are fading are called "akoluthic" +sensations.* When the process of fading is completed (which +happens very quickly), we arrive at the image, which is capable +of being revived on subsequent occasions with very little change. +True memory, as opposed to "immediate memory," applies only to +events sufficiently distant to have come to an end of the period +of fading. Such events, if they are represented by anything +present, can only be represented by images, not by those +intermediate stages, between sensations and images, which occur +during the period of fading. + +* See Semon, "Die mnemischen Empfindungen," chap. vi. + + +Immediate memory is important both because it provides experience +of succession, and because it bridges the gulf between sensations +and the images which are their copies. But it is now time to +resume the consideration of true memory. + +Suppose you ask me what I ate for breakfast this morning. +Suppose, further, that I have not thought about my breakfast in +the meantime, and that I did not, while I was eating it, put into +words what it consisted of. In this case my recollection will be +true memory, not habit-memory. The process of remembering will +consist of calling up images of my breakfast, which will come to +me with a feeling of belief such as distinguishes memory-images +from mere imagination-images. Or sometimes words may come without +the intermediary of images; but in this case equally the feeling +of belief is essential. + +Let us omit from our consideration, for the present, the memories +in which words replace images. These are always, I think, really +habit-memories, the memories that use images being the typical +true memories. + +Memory-images and imagination-images do not differ in their +intrinsic qualities, so far as we can discover. They differ by +the fact that the images that constitute memories, unlike those +that constitute imagination, are accompanied by a feeling of +belief which may be expressed in the words "this happened." The +mere occurrence of images, without this feeling of belief, +constitutes imagination; it is the element of belief that is the +distinctive thing in memory.* + +* For belief of a specific kind, cf. Dorothy Wrinch "On the +Nature of Memory," "Mind," January, 1920. + + +There are, if I am not mistaken, at least three different kinds +of belief-feeling, which we may call respectively memory, +expectation and bare assent. In what I call bare assent, there is +no time-element in the feeling of belief, though there may be in +the content of what is believed. If I believe that Caesar landed +in Britain in B.C. 55, the time-determination lies, not in the +feeling of belief, but in what is believed. I do not remember the +occurrence, but have the same feeling towards it as towards the +announcement of an eclipse next year. But when I have seen a +flash of lightning and am waiting for the thunder, I have a +belief-feeling analogous to memory, except that it refers to the +future: I have an image of thunder, combined with a feeling which +may be expressed in the words: "this will happen." So, in memory, +the pastness lies, not in the content of what is believed, but in +the nature of the belief-feeling. I might have just the same +images and expect their realization; I might entertain them +without any belief, as in reading a novel; or I might entertain +them together with a time-determination, and give bare assent, as +in reading history. I shall return to this subject in a later +lecture, when we come to the analysis of belief. For the present, +I wish to make it clear that a certain special kind of belief is +the distinctive characteristic of memory. + + +The problem as to whether memory can be explained as habit or +association requires to be considered afresh in connection with +the causes of our remembering something. Let us take again the +case of my being asked what I had for breakfast this morning. In +this case the question leads to my setting to work to recollect. +It is a little strange that the question should instruct me as to +what it is that I am to recall. This has to do with understanding +words, which will be the topic of the next lecture; but something +must be said about it now. Our understanding of the words +"breakfast this morning" is a habit, in spite of the fact that on +each fresh day they point to a different occasion. "This morning" +does not, whenever it is used, mean the same thing, as "John" or +"St. Paul's" does; it means a different period of time on each +different day. It follows that the habit which constitutes our +understanding of the words "this morning" is not the habit of +associating the words with a fixed object, but the habit of +associating them with something having a fixed time-relation to +our present. This morning has, to-day, the same time-relation to +my present that yesterday morning had yesterday. In order to +understand the phrase "this morning" it is necessary that we +should have a way of feeling time-intervals, and that this +feeling should give what is constant in the meaning of the words +"this morning." This appreciation of time-intervals is, however, +obviously a product of memory, not a presupposition of it. It +will be better, therefore, if we wish to analyse the causation of +memory by something not presupposing memory, to take some other +instance than that of a question about "this morning." + +Let us take the case of coming into a familiar room where +something has been changed--say a new picture hung on the wall. +We may at first have only a sense that SOMETHING is unfamiliar, +but presently we shall remember, and say "that picture was not on +the wall before." In order to make the case definite, we will +suppose that we were only in the room on one former occasion. In +this case it seems fairly clear what happens. The other objects +in the room are associated, through the former occasion, with a +blank space of wall where now there is a picture. They call up an +image of a blank wall, which clashes with perception of the +picture. The image is associated with the belief-feeling which we +found to be distinctive of memory, since it can neither be +abolished nor harmonized with perception. If the room had +remained unchanged, we might have had only the feeling of +familiarity without the definite remembering; it is the change +that drives us from the present to memory of the past. + +We may generalize this instance so as to cover the causes of many +memories. Some present feature of the environment is associated, +through past experiences, with something now absent; this absent +something comes before us as an image, and is contrasted with +present sensation. In cases of this sort, habit (or association) +explains why the present feature of the environment brings up the +memory-image, but it does not explain the memory-belief. Perhaps +a more complete analysis could explain the memory-belief also on +lines of association and habit, but the causes of beliefs are +obscure, and we cannot investigate them yet. For the present we +must content ourselves with the fact that the memory-image can be +explained by habit. As regards the memory-belief, we must, at +least provisionally, accept Bergson's view that it cannot be +brought under the head of habit, at any rate when it first +occurs, i.e. when we remember something we never remembered +before. + +We must now consider somewhat more closely the content of a +memory-belief. The memory-belief confers upon the memory-image +something which we may call "meaning;" it makes us feel that the +image points to an object which existed in the past. In order to +deal with this topic we must consider the verbal expression of +the memory-belief. We might be tempted to put the memory-belief +into the words: "Something like this image occurred." But such +words would be very far from an accurate translation of the +simplest kind of memory-belief. "Something like this image" is a +very complicated conception. In the simplest kind of memory we +are not aware of the difference between an image and the +sensation which it copies, which may be called its "prototype." +When the image is before us, we judge rather "this occurred." The +image is not distinguished from the object which existed in the +past: the word "this" covers both, and enables us to have a +memory-belief which does not introduce the complicated notion +"something like this." + +It might be objected that, if we judge "this occurred" when in +fact "this" is a present image, we judge falsely, and the +memory-belief, so interpreted, becomes deceptive. This, however, +would be a mistake, produced by attempting to give to words a +precision which they do not possess when used by unsophisticated +people. It is true that the image is not absolutely identical +with its prototype, and if the word "this" meant the image to the +exclusion of everything else, the judgment "this occurred" would +be false. But identity is a precise conception, and no word, in +ordinary speech, stands for anything precise. Ordinary speech +does not distinguish between identity and close similarity. A +word always applies, not only to one particular, but to a group +of associated particulars, which are not recognized as multiple +in common thought or speech. Thus primitive memory, when it +judges that "this occurred," is vague, but not false. + +Vague identity, which is really close similarity, has been a +source of many of the confusions by which philosophy has lived. +Of a vague subject, such as a "this," which is both an image and +its prototype, contradictory predicates are true simultaneously: +this existed and does not exist, since it is a thing remembered, +but also this exists and did not exist, since it is a present +image. Hence Bergson's interpenetration of the present by the +past, Hegelian continuity and identity-in-diversity, and a host +of other notions which are thought to be profound because they +are obscure and confused. The contradictions resulting from +confounding image and prototype in memory force us to precision. +But when we become precise, our remembering becomes different +from that of ordinary life, and if we forget this we shall go +wrong in the analysis of ordinary memory. + +Vagueness and accuracy are important notions, which it is very +necessary to understand. Both are a matter of degree. All +thinking is vague to some extent, and complete accuracy is a +theoretical ideal not practically attainable. To understand what +is meant by accuracy, it will be well to consider first +instruments of measurement, such as a balance or a thermometer. +These are said to be accurate when they give different results +for very slightly different stimuli.* A clinical thermometer is +accurate when it enables us to detect very slight differences in +the temperature of the blood. We may say generally that an +instrument is accurate in proportion as it reacts differently to +very slightly different stimuli. When a small difference of +stimulus produces a great difference of reaction, the instrument +is accurate; in the contrary case it is not. + +* This is a necessary but not a sufficient condition. The subject +of accuracy and vagueness will be considered again in Lecture +XIII. + + +Exactly the same thing applies in defining accuracy of thought or +perception. A musician will respond differently to very minute +differences in playing which would be quite imperceptible to the +ordinary mortal. A negro can see the difference between one negro +and another one is his friend, another his enemy. But to us such +different responses are impossible: we can merely apply the word +"negro" indiscriminately. Accuracy of response in regard to any +particular kind of stimulus is improved by practice. +Understanding a language is a case in point. Few Frenchmen can +hear any difference between the sounds "hall" and "hole," which +produce quite different impressions upon us. The two statements +"the hall is full of water" and "the hole is full of water" call +for different responses, and a hearing which cannot distinguish +between them is inaccurate or vague in this respect. + +Precision and vagueness in thought, as in perception, depend upon +the degree of difference between responses to more or less +similar stimuli. In the case of thought, the response does not +follow immediately upon the sensational stimulus, but that makes +no difference as regards our present question. Thus to revert to +memory: A memory is "vague" when it is appropriate to many +different occurrences: for instance, "I met a man" is vague, +since any man would verify it. A memory is "precise" when the +occurrences that would verify it are narrowly circumscribed: for +instance, "I met Jones" is precise as compared to "I met a man." +A memory is "accurate" when it is both precise and true, i.e. in +the above instance, if it was Jones I met. It is precise even if +it is false, provided some very definite occurrence would have +been required to make it true. + +It follows from what has been said that a vague thought has more +likelihood of being true than a precise one. To try and hit an +object with a vague thought is like trying to hit the bull's eye +with a lump of putty: when the putty reaches the target, it +flattens out all over it, and probably covers the bull's eye +along with the rest. To try and hit an object with a precise +thought is like trying to hit the bull's eye with a bullet. The +advantage of the precise thought is that it distinguishes between +the bull's eye and the rest of the target. For example, if the +whole target is represented by the fungus family and the bull's +eye by mushrooms, a vague thought which can only hit the target +as a whole is not much use from a culinary point of view. And +when I merely remember that I met a man, my memory may be very +inadequate to my practical requirements, since it may make a +great difference whether I met Brown or Jones. The memory "I met +Jones" is relatively precise. It is accurate if I met Jones, +inaccurate if I met Brown, but precise in either case as against +the mere recollection that I met a man. + +The distinction between accuracy and precision is however, not +fundamental. We may omit precision from out thoughts and confine +ourselves to the distinction between accuracy and vagueness. We +may then set up the following definitions: + +An instrument is "reliable" with respect to a given set of +stimuli when to stimuli which are not relevantly different it +gives always responses which are not relevantly different. + +An instrument is a "measure" of a set of stimuli which are +serially ordered when its responses, in all cases where they are +relevantly different, are arranged in a series in the same order. + +The "degree of accuracy" of an instrument which is a reliable +measurer is the ratio of the difference of response to the +difference of stimulus in cases where the difference of stimulus +is small.* That is to say, if a small difference of stimulus +produces a great difference of response, the instrument is very +accurate; in the contrary case, very inaccurate. + +* Strictly speaking, the limit of this, i.e. the derivative of +the response with respect to the stimulus. + + +A mental response is called "vague" in proportion to its lack of +accuracy, or rather precision. + +These definitions will be found useful, not only in the case of +memory, but in almost all questions concerned with knowledge. + +It should be observed that vague beliefs, so far from being +necessarily false, have a better chance of truth than precise +ones, though their truth is less valuable than that of precise +beliefs, since they do not distinguish between occurrences which +may differ in important ways. + +The whole of the above discussion of vagueness and accuracy was +occasioned by the attempt to interpret the word "this" when we +judge in verbal memory that "this occurred." The word "this," in +such a judgment, is a vague word, equally applicable to the +present memory-image and to the past occurrence which is its +prototype. A vague word is not to be identified with a general +word, though in practice the distinction may often be blurred. A +word is general when it is understood to be applicable to a +number of different objects in virtue of some common property. A +word is vague when it is in fact applicable to a number of +different objects because, in virtue of some common property, +they have not appeared, to the person using the word, to be +distinct. I emphatically do not mean that he has judged them to +be identical, but merely that he has made the same response to +them all and has not judged them to be different. We may compare +a vague word to a jelly and a general word to a heap of shot. +Vague words precede judgments of identity and difference; both +general and particular words are subsequent to such judgments. +The word "this" in the primitive memory-belief is a vague word, +not a general word; it covers both the image and its prototype +because the two are not distinguished.* + +* On the vague and the general cf. Ribot: "Evolution of General +Ideas," Open Court Co., 1899, p. 32: "The sole permissible +formula is this: Intelligence progresses from the indefinite to +the definite. If 'indefinite' is taken as synonymous with +general, it may be said that the particular does not appear at +the outset, but neither does the general in any exact sense: the +vague would be more appropriate. In other words, no sooner has +the intellect progressed beyond the moment of perception and of +its immediate reproduction in memory, than the generic image +makes its appearance, i.e. a state intermediate between the +particular and the general, participating in the nature of the +one and of the other--a confused simplification." + + +But we have not yet finished our analysis of the memory-belief. +The tense in the belief that "this occurred" is provided by the +nature of the belief-feeling involved in memory; the word "this," +as we have seen, has a vagueness which we have tried to describe. +But we must still ask what we mean by "occurred." The image is, +in one sense, occurring now; and therefore we must find some +other sense in which the past event occurred but the image does +not occur. + +There are two distinct questions to be asked: (1) What causes us +to say that a thing occurs? (2) What are we feeling when we say +this? As to the first question, in the crude use of the word, +which is what concerns us, memory-images would not be said to +occur; they would not be noticed in themselves, but merely used +as signs of the past event. Images are "merely imaginary"; they +have not, in crude thought, the sort of reality that belongs to +outside bodies. Roughly speaking, "real" things would be those +that can cause sensations, those that have correlations of the +sort that constitute physical objects. A thing is said to be +"real" or to "occur" when it fits into a context of such +correlations. The prototype of our memory-image did fit into a +physical context, while our memory-image does not. This causes us +to feel that the prototype was "real," while the image is +"imaginary." + +But the answer to our second question, namely as to what we are +feeling when we say a thing "occurs" or is "real," must be +somewhat different. We do not, unless we are unusually +reflective, think about the presence or absence of correlations: +we merely have different feelings which, intellectualized, may be +represented as expectations of the presence or absence of +correlations. A thing which "feels real" inspires us with hopes +or fears, expectations or curiosities, which are wholly absent +when a thing "feels imaginary." The feeling of reality is a +feeling akin to respect: it belongs PRIMARILY to whatever can do +things to us without our voluntary co-operation. This feeling of +reality, related to the memory-image, and referred to the past by +the specific kind of belief-feeling that is characteristic of +memory, seems to be what constitutes the act of remembering in +its pure form. + +We may now summarize our analysis of pure memory. + +Memory demands (a) an image, (b) a belief in past existence. The +belief may be expressed in the words "this existed." + +The belief, like every other, may be analysed into (1) the +believing, (2) what is believed. The believing is a specific +feeling or sensation or complex of sensations, different from +expectation or bare assent in a way that makes the belief refer +to the past; the reference to the past lies in the +belief-feeling, not in the content believed. There is a relation +between the belief-feeling and the content, making the +belief-feeling refer to the content, and expressed by saying that +the content is what is believed. + +The content believed may or may not be expressed in words. Let us +take first the case when it is not. In that case, if we are +merely remembering that something of which we now have an image +occurred, the content consists of (a) the image, (b) the feeling, +analogous to respect, which we translate by saying that something +is "real" as opposed to "imaginary," (c) a relation between the +image and the feeling of reality, of the sort expressed when we +say that the feeling refers to the image. This content does not +contain in itself any time-determination + +the time-determination lies in the nature of the belief feeling, +which is that called "remembering" or (better) "recollecting." It +is only subsequent reflection upon this reference to the past +that makes us realize the distinction between the image and the +event recollected. When we have made this distinction, we can say +that the image "means" the past event. + +The content expressed in words is best represented by the words +"the existence of this," since these words do not involve tense, +which belongs to the belief-feeling, not to the content. Here +"this" is a vague term, covering the memory-image and anything +very like it, including its prototype. "Existence" expresses the +feeling of a "reality" aroused primarily by whatever can have +effects upon us without our voluntary co-operation. The word "of" +in the phrase "the existence of this" represents the relation +which subsists between the feeling of reality and the "this." + +This analysis of memory is probably extremely faulty, but I do +not know how to improve it. + +NOTE.-When I speak of a FEELING of belief, I use the word +"feeling" in a popular sense, to cover a sensation or an image or +a complex of sensations or images or both; I use this word +because I do not wish to commit myself to any special analysis of +the belief-feeling. + + + +LECTURE X. WORDS AND MEANING + +The problem with which we shall be concerned in this lecture is +the problem of determining what is the relation called "meaning." +The word "Napoleon," we say, "means" a certain person. In saying +this, we are asserting a relation between the word "Napoleon" and +the person so designated. It is this relation that we must now +investigate. + +Let us first consider what sort of object a word is when +considered simply as a physical thing, apart from its meaning. To +begin with, there are many instances of a word, namely all the +different occasions when it is employed. Thus a word is not +something unique and particular, but a set of occurrences. If we +confine ourselves to spoken words, a word has two aspects, +according as we regard it from the point of view of the speaker +or from that of the hearer. From the point of view of the +speaker, a single instance of the use of a word consists of a +certain set of movements in the throat and mouth, combined with +breath. From the point of view of the hearer, a single instance +of the use of a word consists of a certain series of sounds, each +being approximately represented by a single letter in writing, +though in practice a letter may represent several sounds, or +several letters may represent one sound. The connection between +the spoken word and the word as it reaches the hearer is causal. +Let us confine ourselves to the spoken word, which is the more +important for the analysis of what is called "thought." Then we +may say that a single instance of the spoken word consists of a +series of movements, and the word consists of a whole set of such +series, each member of the set being very similar to each other +member. That is to say, any two instances of the word "Napoleon" +are very similar, and each instance consists of a series of +movements in the mouth. + +A single word, accordingly, is by no means simple it is a class +of similar series of movements (confining ourselves still to the +spoken word). The degree of similarity required cannot be +precisely defined: a man may pronounce the word "Napoleon" so +badly that it can hardly be determined whether he has really +pronounced it or not. The instances of a word shade off into +other movements by imperceptible degrees. And exactly analogous +observations apply to words heard or written or read. But in what +has been said so far we have not even broached the question of +the DEFINITION of a word, since "meaning" is clearly what +distinguishes a word from other sets of similar movements, and +"meaning" remains to be defined. + +It is natural to think of the meaning of a word as something +conventional. This, however, is only true with great limitations. +A new word can be added to an existing language by a mere +convention, as is done, for instance, with new scientific terms. +But the basis of a language is not conventional, either from the +point of view of the individual or from that of the community. A +child learning to speak is learning habits and associations which +are just as much determined by the environment as the habit of +expecting dogs to bark and cocks to crow. The community that +speaks a language has learnt it, and modified it by processes +almost all of which are not deliberate, but the results of causes +operating according to more or less ascertainable laws. If we +trace any Indo-European language back far enough, we arrive +hypothetically (at any rate according to some authorities) at the +stage when language consisted only of the roots out of which +subsequent words have grown. How these roots acquired their +meanings is not known, but a conventional origin is clearly just +as mythical as the social contract by which Hobbes and Rousseau +supposed civil government to have been established. We can hardly +suppose a parliament of hitherto speechless elders meeting +together and agreeing to call a cow a cow and a wolf a wolf. The +association of words with their meanings must have grown up by +some natural process, though at present the nature of the process +is unknown. + +Spoken and written words are, of course, not the only way of +conveying meaning. A large part of one of Wundt's two vast +volumes on language in his "Volkerpsychologie" is concerned with +gesture-language. Ants appear to be able to communicate a certain +amount of information by means of their antennae. Probably +writing itself, which we now regard as merely a way of +representing speech, was originally an independent language, as +it has remained to this day in China. Writing seems to have +consisted originally of pictures, which gradually became +conventionalized, coming in time to represent syllables, and +finally letters on the telephone principle of "T for Tommy." But +it would seem that writing nowhere began as an attempt to +represent speech it began as a direct pictorial representation of +what was to be expressed. The essence of language lies, not in +the use of this or that special means of communication, but in +the employment of fixed associations (however these may have +originated) in order that something now sensible--a spoken word, +a picture, a gesture, or what not--may call up the "idea" of +something else. Whenever this is done, what is now sensible may +be called a "sign" or "symbol," and that of which it is intended +to call up the "idea" may be called its "meaning." This is a +rough outline of what constitutes "meaning." But we must fill in +the outline in various ways. And, since we are concerned with +what is called "thought," we must pay more attention than we +otherwise should do to the private as opposed to the social use +of language. Language profoundly affects our thoughts, and it is +this aspect of language that is of most importance to us in our +present inquiry. We are almost more concerned with the internal +speech that is never uttered than we are with the things said out +loud to other people. + +When we ask what constitutes meaning, we are not asking what is +the meaning of this or that particular word. The word "Napoleon" +means a certain individual; but we are asking, not who is the +individual meant, but what is the relation of the word to the +individual which makes the one mean the other. But just as it is +useful to realize the nature of a word as part of the physical +world, so it is useful to realize the sort of thing that a word +may mean. When we are clear both as to what a word is in its +physical aspect, and as to what sort of thing it can mean, we are +in a better position to discover the relation of the two which is +meaning. + +The things that words mean differ more than words do. There are +different sorts of words, distinguished by the grammarians; and +there are logical distinctions, which are connected to some +extent, though not so closely as was formerly supposed, with the +grammatical distinctions of parts of speech. It is easy, however, +to be misled by grammar, particularly if all the languages we +know belong to one family. In some languages, according to some +authorities, the distinction of parts of speech does not exist; +in many languages it is widely different from that to which we +are accustomed in the Indo-European languages. These facts have +to be borne in mind if we are to avoid giving metaphysical +importance to mere accidents of our own speech. + +In considering what words mean, it is natural to start with +proper names, and we will again take "Napoleon" as our instance. +We commonly imagine, when we use a proper name, that we mean one +definite entity, the particular individual who was called +"Napoleon." But what we know as a person is not simple. There MAY +be a single simple ego which was Napoleon, and remained strictly +identical from his birth to his death. There is no way of proving +that this cannot be the case, but there is also not the slightest +reason to suppose that it is the case. Napoleon as he was +empirically known consisted of a series of gradually changing +appearances: first a squalling baby, then a boy, then a slim and +beautiful youth, then a fat and slothful person very +magnificently dressed This series of appearances, and various +occurrences having certain kinds of causal connections with them, +constitute Napoleon as empirically known, and therefore are +Napoleon in so far as he forms part of the experienced world. +Napoleon is a complicated series of occurrences, bound together +by causal laws, not, like instances of a word, by similarities. +For although a person changes gradually, and presents similar +appearances on two nearly contemporaneous occasions, it is not +these similarities that constitute the person, as appears from +the "Comedy of Errors" for example. + +Thus in the case of a proper name, while the word is a set of +similar series of movements, what it means is a series of +occurrences bound together by causal laws of that special kind +that makes the occurrences taken together constitute what we call +one person, or one animal or thing, in case the name applies to +an animal or thing instead of to a person. Neither the word nor +what it names is one of the ultimate indivisible constituents of +the world. In language there is no direct way of designating one +of the ultimate brief existents that go to make up the +collections we call things or persons. If we want to speak of +such existentswhich hardly happens except in philosophy-we have +to do it by means of some elaborate phrase, such as "the visual +sensation which occupied the centre of my field of vision at noon +on January 1, 1919." Such ultimate simples I call "particulars." +Particulars MIGHT have proper names, and no doubt would have if +language had been invented by scientifically trained observers +for purposes of philosophy and logic. But as language was +invented for practical ends, particulars have remained one and +all without a name. + +We are not, in practice, much concerned with the actual +particulars that come into our experience in sensation; we are +concerned rather with whole systems to which the particulars +belong and of which they are signs. What we see makes us say +"Hullo, there's Jones," and the fact that what we see is a sign +of Jones (which is the case because it is one of the particulars +that make up Jones) is more interesting to us than the actual +particular itself. Hence we give the name "Jones" to the whole +set of particulars, but do not trouble to give separate names to +the separate particulars that make up the set. + +Passing on from proper names, we come next to general names, such +as "man," "cat," "triangle." A word such as "man" means a whole +class of such collections of particulars as have proper names. +The several members of the class are assembled together in virtue +of some similarity or common property. All men resemble each +other in certain important respects; hence we want a word which +shall be equally applicable to all of them. We only give proper +names to the individuals of a species when they differ inter se +in practically important respects. In other cases we do not do +this. A poker, for instance, is just a poker; we do not call one +"John" and another "Peter." + +There is a large class of words, such as "eating," "walking," +"speaking," which mean a set of similar occurrences. Two +instances of walking have the same name because they resemble +each other, whereas two instances of Jones have the same name +because they are causally connected. In practice, however, it is +difficult to make any precise distinction between a word such as +"walking" and a general name such as "man." One instance of +walking cannot be concentrated into an instant: it is a process +in time, in which there is a causal connection between the +earlier and later parts, as between the earlier and later parts +of Jones. Thus an instance of walking differs from an instance of +man solely by the fact that it has a shorter life. There is a +notion that an instance of walking, as compared with Jones, is +unsubstantial, but this seems to be a mistake. We think that +Jones walks, and that there could not be any walking unless there +were somebody like Jones to perform the walking. But it is +equally true that there could be no Jones unless there were +something like walking for him to do. The notion that actions are +performed by an agent is liable to the same kind of criticism as +the notion that thinking needs a subject or ego, which we +rejected in Lecture I. To say that it is Jones who is walking is +merely to say that the walking in question is part of the whole +series of occurrences which is Jones. There is no LOGICAL +impossibility in walking occurring as an isolated phenomenon, not +forming part of any such series as we call a "person." + +We may therefore class with "eating," "walking," "speaking" words +such as "rain," "sunrise," "lightning," which do not denote what +would commonly be called actions. These words illustrate, +incidentally, how little we can trust to the grammatical +distinction of parts of speech, since the substantive "rain" and +the verb "to rain" denote precisely the same class of +meteorological occurrences. The distinction between the class of +objects denoted by such a word and the class of objects denoted +by a general name such as "man," "vegetable," or "planet," is +that the sort of object which is an instance of (say) "lightning" +is much simpler than (say) an individual man. (I am speaking of +lightning as a sensible phenomenon, not as it is described in +physics.) The distinction is one of degree, not of kind. But +there is, from the point of view of ordinary thought, a great +difference between a process which, like a flash of lightning, +can be wholly comprised within one specious present and a process +which, like the life of a man, has to be pieced together by +observation and memory and the apprehension of causal +connections. We may say broadly, therefore, that a word of the +kind we have been discussing denotes a set of similar +occurrences, each (as a rule) much more brief and less complex +than a person or thing. Words themselves, as we have seen, are +sets of similar occurrences of this kind. Thus there is more +logical affinity between a word and what it means in the case of +words of our present sort than in any other case. + +There is no very great difference between such words as we have +just been considering and words denoting qualities, such as +"white" or "round." The chief difference is that words of this +latter sort do not denote processes, however brief, but static +features of the world. Snow falls, and is white; the falling is a +process, the whiteness is not. Whether there is a universal, +called "whiteness," or whether white things are to be defined as +those having a certain kind of similarity to a standard thing, +say freshly fallen snow, is a question which need not concern us, +and which I believe to be strictly insoluble. For our purposes, +we may take the word "white" as denoting a certain set of similar +particulars or collections of particulars, the similarity being +in respect of a static quality, not of a process. + +From the logical point of view, a very important class of words +are those that express relations, such as "in," "above," +"before," "greater," and so on. The meaning of one of these words +differs very fundamentally from the meaning of one of any of our +previous classes, being more abstract and logically simpler than +any of them. If our business were logic, we should have to spend +much time on these words. But as it is psychology that concerns +us, we will merely note their special character and pass on, +since the logical classification of words is not our main +business. + +We will consider next the question what is implied by saying that +a person "understands" a word, in the sense in which one +understands a word in one's own language, but not in a language +of which one is ignorant. We may say that a person understands a +word when (a) suitable circumstances make him use it, (b) the +hearing of it causes suitable behaviour in him. We may call these +two active and passive understanding respectively. Dogs often +have passive understanding of some words, but not active +understanding, since they cannot use words. + +It is not necessary, in order that a man should "understand" a +word, that he should "know what it means," in the sense of being +able to say "this word means so-and-so." Understanding words does +not consist in knowing their dictionary definitions, or in being +able to specify the objects to which they are appropriate. Such +understanding as this may belong to lexicographers and students, +but not to ordinary mortals in ordinary life. Understanding +language is more like understanding cricket*: it is a matter of +habits, acquired in oneself and rightly presumed in others. To +say that a word has a meaning is not to say that those who use +the word correctly have ever thought out what the meaning is: the +use of the word comes first, and the meaning is to be distilled +out of it by observation and analysis. Moreover, the meaning of a +word is not absolutely definite: there is always a greater or +less degree of vagueness. The meaning is an area, like a target: +it may have a bull's eye, but the outlying parts of the target +are still more or less within the meaning, in a gradually +diminishing degree as we travel further from the bull's eye. As +language grows more precise, there is less and less of the target +outside the bull's eye, and the bull's eye itself grows smaller +and smaller; but the bull's eye never shrinks to a point, and +there is always a doubtful region, however small, surrounding +it.** + +* This point of view, extended to the analysis of "thought" is +urged with great force by J. B. Watson, both in his "Behavior," +and in "Psychology from the Standpoint of a Behaviorist" +(Lippincott. 1919), chap. ix. + +** On the understanding of words, a very admirable little book is +Ribot's "Evolution of General Ideas," Open Court Co., 1899. Ribot +says (p. 131): "We learn to understand a concept as we learn to +walk, dance, fence or play a musical instrument: it is a habit, +i.e. an organized memory. General terms cover an organized, +latent knowledge which is the hidden capital without which we +should be in a state of bankruptcy, manipulating false money or +paper of no value. General ideas are habits in the intellectual +order." + + +A word is used "correctly" when the average hearer will be +affected by it in the way intended. This is a psychological, not +a literary, definition of "correctness." The literary definition +would substitute, for the average hearer, a person of high +education living a long time ago; the purpose of this definition +is to make it difficult to speak or write correctly. + +The relation of a word to its meaning is of the nature of a +causal law governing our use of the word and our actions when we +hear it used. There is no more reason why a person who uses a +word correctly should be able to tell what it means than there is +why a planet which is moving correctly should know Kepler's laws. + +To illustrate what is meant by "understanding" words and +sentences, let us take instances of various situations. + +Suppose you are walking in London with an absent-minded friend, +and while crossing a street you say, "Look out, there's a motor +coming." He will glance round and jump aside without the need of +any "mental" intermediary. There need be no "ideas," but only a +stiffening of the muscles, followed quickly by action. He +"understands" the words, because he does the right thing. Such +"understanding" may be taken to belong to the nerves and brain, +being habits which they have acquired while the language was +being learnt. Thus understanding in this sense may be reduced to +mere physiological causal laws. + +If you say the same thing to a Frenchman with a slight knowledge +of English he will go through some inner speech which may be +represented by "Que dit-il? Ah, oui, une automobile!" After this, +the rest follows as with the Englishman. Watson would contend +that the inner speech must be incipiently pronounced; we should +argue that it MIGHT be merely imaged. But this point is not +important in the present connection. + +If you say the same thing to a child who does not yet know the +word "motor," but does know the other words you are using, you +produce a feeling of anxiety and doubt you will have to point and +say, "There, that's a motor." After that the child will roughly +understand the word "motor," though he may include trains and +steam-rollers If this is the first time the child has heard the +word "motor," he may for a long time continue to recall this +scene when he hears the word. + +So far we have found four ways of understanding words: + +(1) On suitable occasions you use the word properly. + +(2) When you hear it you act appropriately. + +(3) You associate the word with another word (say in a different +language) which has the appropriate effect on behaviour. + +(4) When the word is being first learnt, you may associate it +with an object, which is what it "means," or a representative of +various objects that it "means." + +In the fourth case, the word acquires, through association, some +of the same causal efficacy as the object. The word "motor" can +make you leap aside, just as the motor can, but it cannot break +your bones. The effects which a word can share with its object +are those which proceed according to laws other than the general +laws of physics, i.e. those which, according to our terminology, +involve vital movements as opposed to merely mechanical +movements. The effects of a word that we understand are always +mnemic phenomena in the sense explained in Lecture IV, in so far +as they are identical with, or similar to, the effects which the +object itself might have. + +So far, all the uses of words that we have considered can be +accounted for on the lines of behaviourism. + +But so far we have only considered what may be called the +"demonstrative" use of language, to point out some feature in the +present environment. This is only one of the ways in which +language may be used. There are also its narrative and +imaginative uses, as in history and novels. Let us take as an +instance the telling of some remembered event. + +We spoke a moment ago of a child who hears the word "motor" for +the first time when crossing a street along which a motor-car is +approaching. On a later occasion, we will suppose, the child +remembers the incident and relates it to someone else. In this +case, both the active and passive understanding of words is +different from what it is when words are used demonstratively. +The child is not seeing a motor, but only remembering one; the +hearer does not look round in expectation of seeing a motor +coming, but "understands" that a motor came at some earlier time. +The whole of this occurrence is much more difficult to account +for on behaviourist lines. It is clear that, in so far as the +child is genuinely remembering, he has a picture of the past +occurrence, and his words are chosen so as to describe the +picture; and in so far as the hearer is genuinely apprehending +what is said, the hearer is acquiring a picture more or less like +that of the child. It is true that this process may be telescoped +through the operation of the word-habit. The child may not +genuinely remember the incident, but only have the habit of the +appropriate words, as in the case of a poem which we know by +heart, though we cannot remember learning it. And the hearer also +may only pay attention to the words, and not call up any +corresponding picture. But it is, nevertheless, the possibility +of a memory-image in the child and an imagination-image in the +hearer that makes the essence of the narrative "meaning" of the +words. In so far as this is absent, the words are mere counters, +capable of meaning, but not at the moment possessing it. + +Yet this might perhaps be regarded as something of an +overstatement. The words alone, without the use of images, may +cause appropriate emotions and appropriate behaviour. The words +have been used in an environment which produced certain +emotions;. by a telescoped process, the words alone are now +capable of producing similar emotions. On these lines it might be +sought to show that images are unnecessary. I do not believe, +however, that we could account on these lines for the entirely +different response produced by a narrative and by a description +of present facts. Images, as contrasted with sensations, are the +response expected during a narrative; it is understood that +present action is not called for. Thus it seems that we must +maintain our distinction words used demonstratively describe and +are intended to lead to sensations, while the same words used in +narrative describe and are only intended to lead to images. + +We have thus, in addition to our four previous ways in which +words can mean, two new ways, namely the way of memory and the +way of imagination. That is to say: + +(5) Words may be used to describe or recall a memory-image: to +describe it when it already exists, or to recall it when the +words exist as a habit and are known to be descriptive of some +past experience. + +(6) Words may be used to describe or create an imagination-image: +to describe it, for example, in the case of a poet or novelist, +or to create it in the ordinary case for giving +information-though, in the latter case, it is intended that the +imagination-image, when created, shall be accompanied by belief +that something of the sort occurred. + +These two ways of using words, including their occurrence in +inner speech, may be spoken of together as the use of words in +"thinking." If we are right, the use of words in thinking +depends, at least in its origin, upon images, and cannot be fully +dealt with on behaviourist lines. And this is really the most +essential function of words, namely that, originally through +their connection with images, they bring us into touch with what +is remote in time or space. When they operate without the medium +of images, this seems to be a telescoped process. Thus the +problem of the meaning of words is brought into connection with +the problem of the meaning of images. + +To understand the function that words perform in what is called +"thinking," we must understand both the causes and the effects of +their occurrence. The causes of the occurrence of words require +somewhat different treatment according as the object designated +by the word is sensibly present or absent. When the object is +present, it may itself be taken as the cause of the word, through +association. But when it is absent there is more difficulty in +obtaining a behaviourist theory of the occurrence of the word. +The language-habit consists not merely in the use of words +demonstratively, but also in their use to express narrative or +desire. Professor Watson, in his account of the acquisition of +the language-habit, pays very little attention to the use of +words in narrative and desire. He says ("Behavior," pp. 329-330): + +"The stimulus (object) to which the child often responds, a box, +e.g. by movements such as opening and closing and putting objects +into it, may serve to illustrate our argument. The nurse, +observing that the child reacts with his hands, feet, etc., to +the box, begins to say 'box' when the child is handed the box, +'open box' when the child opens it, 'close box' when he closes +it, and 'put doll in box ' when that act is executed. This is +repeated over and over again. In the process of time it comes +about that without any other stimulus than that of the box which +originally called out the bodily habits, he begins to say 'box' +when he sees it, 'open box' when he opens it, etc. The visible +box now becomes a stimulus capable of releasing either the bodily +habits or the word-habit, i.e. development has brought about two +things : (1) a series of functional connections among arcs which +run from visual receptor to muscles of throat, and (2) a series +of already earlier connected arcs which run from the same +receptor to the bodily muscles.... The object meets the child's +vision. He runs to it and tries to reach it and says 'box.'... +Finally the word is uttered without the movement of going towards +the box being executed.... Habits are formed of going to the box +when the arms are full of toys. The child has been taught to +deposit them there. When his arms are laden with toys and no box +is there, the word-habit arises and he calls 'box'; it is handed +to him, and he opens it and deposits the toys therein. This +roughly marks what we would call the genesis of a true +language-habit."(pp. 329-330).* + +* Just the same account of language is given in Professor +Watson's more recent book (reference above). + + +We need not linger over what is said in the above passage as to +the use of the word "box" in the presence of the box. But as to +its use in the absence of the box, there is only one brief +sentence, namely: "When his arms are laden with toys and no box +is there, the word-habit arises and he calls 'box.' " This is +inadequate as it stands, since the habit has been to use the word +when the box is present, and we have to explain its extension to +cases in which the box is absent. + +Having admitted images, we may say that the word "box," in the +absence of the box, is caused by an image of the box. This may or +may not be true--in fact, it is true in some cases but not in +others. Even, however, if it were true in all cases, it would +only slightly shift our problem: we should now have to ask what +causes an image of the box to arise. We might be inclined to say +that desire for the box is the cause. But when this view is +investigated, it is found that it compels us to suppose that the +box can be desired without the child's having either an image of +the box or the word "box." This will require a theory of desire +which may be, and I think is, in the main true, but which removes +desire from among things that actually occur, and makes it merely +a convenient fiction, like force in mechanics.* With such a view, +desire is no longer a true cause, but merely a short way of +describing certain processes. + +* See Lecture III, above. + + +In order to explain the occurrence of either the word or the +image in the absence of the box, we have to assume that there is +something, either in the environment or in our own sensations, +which has frequently occurred at about the same time as the word +"box." One of the laws which distinguish psychology (or +nerve-physiology?) from physics is the law that, when two things +have frequently existed in close temporal contiguity, either +comes in time to cause the other.* This is the basis both of +habit and of association. Thus, in our case, the arms full of +toys have frequently been followed quickly by the box, and the +box in turn by the word "box." The box itself is subject to +physical laws, and does not tend to be caused by the arms full of +toys, however often it may in the past have followed them--always +provided that, in the case in question, its physical position is +such that voluntary movements cannot lead to it. But the word +"box" and the image of the box are subject to the law of habit; +hence it is possible for either to be caused by the arms full of +toys. And we may lay it down generally that, whenever we use a +word, either aloud or in inner speech, there is some sensation or +image (either of which may be itself a word) which has frequently +occurred at about the same time as the word, and now, through +habit, causes the word. It follows that the law of habit is +adequate to account for the use of words in the absence of their +objects; moreover, it would be adequate even without introducing +images. Although, therefore, images seem undeniable, we cannot +derive an additional argument in their favour from the use of +words, which could, theoretically, be explained without +introducing images. + + *For a more exact statement of this law, with the limitations +suggested by experiment, see A. Wohlgemuth, "On Memory and the +Direction of Associations," "British Journal of Psychology," vol. +v, part iv (March, 1913). + + +When we understand a word, there is a reciprocal association +between it and the images of what it "means." Images may cause us +to use words which mean them, and these words, heard or read, may +in turn cause the appropriate images. Thus speech is a means of +producing in our hearers the images which are in us. Also, by a +telescoped process, words come in time to produce directly the +effects which would have been produced by the images with which +they were associated. The general law of telescoped processes is +that, if A causes B and B causes C, it will happen in time that A +will cause C directly, without the intermediary of B. This is a +characteristic of psychological and neural causation. In virtue +of this law, the effects of images upon our actions come to be +produced by words, even when the words do not call up appropriate +images. The more familiar we are with words, the more our +"thinking" goes on in words instead of images. We may, for +example, be able to describe a person's appearance correctly +without having at any time had any image of him, provided, when +we saw him, we thought of words which fitted him; the words alone +may remain with us as a habit, and enable us to speak as if we +could recall a visual image of the man. In this and other ways +the understanding of a word often comes to be quite free from +imagery; but in first learning the use of language it would seem +that imagery always plays a very important part. + +Images as well as words may be said to have "meaning"; indeed, +the meaning of images seems more primitive than the meaning of +words. What we call (say) an image of St. Paul's may be said to +"mean" St. Paul's. But it is not at all easy to say exactly what +constitutes the meaning of an image. A memory-image of a +particular occurrence, when accompanied by a memory-belief, may +be said to mean the occurrence of which it is an image. But most +actual images do not have this degree of definiteness. If we call +up an image of a dog, we are very likely to have a vague image, +which is not representative of some one special dog, but of dogs +in general. When we call up an image of a friend's face, we are +not likely to reproduce the expression he had on some one +particular occasion, but rather a compromise expression derived +from many occasions. And there is hardly any limit to the +vagueness of which images are capable. In such cases, the meaning +of the image, if defined by relation to the prototype, is vague: +there is not one definite prototype, but a number, none of which +is copied exactly.* + +* Cf. Semon, Mnemische Empfindungen, chap. xvi, especially pp. +301-308. + + +There is, however, another way of approaching the meaning of +images, namely through their causal efficacy. What is called an +image "of" some definite object, say St. Paul's, has some of the +effects which the object would have. This applies especially to +the effects that depend upon association. The emotional effects, +also, are often similar: images may stimulate desire almost as +strongly as do the objects they represent. And conversely desire +may cause images*: a hungry man will have images of food, and so +on. In all these ways the causal laws concerning images are +connected with the causal laws concerning the objects which the +images "mean." An image may thus come to fulfil the function of a +general idea. The vague image of a dog, which we spoke of a +moment ago, will have effects which are only connected with dogs +in general, not the more special effects which would be produced +by some dogs but not by others. Berkeley and Hume, in their +attack on general ideas, do not allow for the vagueness of +images: they assume that every image has the definiteness that a +physical object would have This is not the case, and a vague +image may well have a meaning which is general. + +* This phrase is in need of interpretation, as appears from the +analysis of desire. But the reader can easily supply the +interpretation for himself. + + +In order to define the "meaning" of an image, we have to take +account both of its resemblance to one or more prototypes, and of +its causal efficacy. If there were such a thing as a pure +imagination-image, without any prototype whatever, it would be +destitute of meaning. But according to Hume's principle, the +simple elements in an image, at least, are derived from +prototypes-except possibly in very rare exceptional cases. Often, +in such instances as our image of a friend's face or of a +nondescript dog, an image is not derived from one prototype, but +from many; when this happens, the image is vague, and blurs the +features in which the various prototypes differ. To arrive at the +meaning of the image in such a case, we observe that there are +certain respects, notably associations, in which the effects of +images resemble those of their prototypes. If we find, in a given +case, that our vague image, say, of a nondescript dog, has those +associative effects which all dogs would have, but not those +belonging to any special dog or kind of dog, we may say that our +image means "dog" in general. If it has all the associations +appropriate to spaniels but no others, we shall say it means +"spaniel"; while if it has all the associations appropriate to +one particular dog, it will mean that dog, however vague it may +be as a picture. The meaning of an image, according to this +analysis, is constituted by a combination of likeness and +associations. It is not a sharp or definite conception, and in +many cases it will be impossible to decide with any certainty +what an image means. I think this lies in the nature of things, +and not in defective analysis. + +We may give somewhat more precision to the above account of the +meaning of images, and extend it to meaning in general. We find +sometimes that, IN MNEMIC CAUSATION, an image or word, as +stimulus, has the same effect (or very nearly the same effect) as +would belong to some object, say, a certain dog. In that case we +say that the image or word means that object. In other cases the +mnemic effects are not all those of one object, but only those +shared by objects of a certain kind, e.g. by all dogs. In this +case the meaning of the image or word is general: it means the +whole kind. Generality and particularity are a matter of degree. +If two particulars differ sufficiently little, their mnemic +effects will be the same; therefore no image or word can mean the +one as opposed to the other; this sets a bound to the +particularity of meaning. On the other hand, the mnemic effects +of a number of sufficiently dissimilar objects will have nothing +discoverable in common; hence a word which aims at complete +generality, such as "entity" for example, will have to be devoid +of mnemic effects, and therefore of meaning. In practice, this is +not the case: such words have VERBAL associations, the learning +of which constitutes the study of metaphysics. + +The meaning of a word, unlike that of an image, is wholly +constituted by mnemic causal laws, and not in any degree by +likeness (except in exceptional cases). The word "dog" bears no +resemblance to a dog, but its effects, like those of an image of +a dog, resemble the effects of an actual dog in certain respects. +It is much easier to say definitely what a word means than what +an image means, since words, however they originated, have been +framed in later times for the purpose of having meaning, and men +have been engaged for ages in giving increased precision to the +meanings of words. But although it is easier to say what a word +means than what an image means, the relation which constitutes +meaning is much the same in both cases. A word, like an image, +has the same associations as its meaning has. In addition to +other associations, it is associated with images of its meaning, +so that the word tends to call up the image and the image tends +to call up the word., But this association is not essential to +the intelligent use of words. If a word has the right +associations with other objects, we shall be able to use it +correctly, and understand its use by others, even if it evokes no +image. The theoretical understanding of words involves only the +power of associating them correctly with other words; the +practical understanding involves associations with other bodily +movements. + +The use of words is, of course, primarily social, for the purpose +of suggesting to others ideas which we entertain or at least wish +them to entertain. But the aspect of words that specially +concerns us is their power of promoting our own thought. Almost +all higher intellectual activity is a matter of words, to the +nearly total exclusion of everything else. The advantages of +words for purposes of thought are so great that I should never +end if I were to enumerate them. But a few of them deserve to be +mentioned. + +In the first place, there is no difficulty in producing a word, +whereas an image cannot always be brought into existence at will, +and when it comes it often contains much irrelevant detail. In +the second place, much of our thinking is concerned with abstract +matters which do not readily lend themselves to imagery, and are +apt to be falsely conceived if we insist upon finding images that +may be supposed to represent them. The word is always concrete +and sensible, however abstract its meaning may be, and thus by +the help of words we are able to dwell on abstractions in a way +which would otherwise be impossible. In the third place, two +instances of the same word are so similar that neither has +associations not capable of being shared by the other. Two +instances of the word "dog" are much more alike than (say) a pug +and a great dane; hence the word "dog" makes it much easier to +think about dogs in general. When a number of objects have a +common property which is important but not obvious, the invention +of a name for the common property helps us to remember it and to +think of the whole set of objects that possess it. But it is +unnecessary to prolong the catalogue of the uses of language in +thought. + +At the same time, it is possible to conduct rudimentary thought +by means of images, and it is important, sometimes, to check +purely verbal thought by reference to what it means. In +philosophy especially the tyranny of traditional words is +dangerous, and we have to be on our guard against assuming that +grammar is the key to metaphysics, or that the structure of a +sentence corresponds at all accurately with the structure of the +fact that it asserts. Sayce maintained that all European +philosophy since Aristotle has been dominated by the fact that +the philosophers spoke Indo-European languages, and therefore +supposed the world, like the sentences they were used to, +necessarily divisible into subjects and predicates. When we come +to the consideration of truth and falsehood, we shall see how +necessary it is to avoid assuming too close a parallelism between +facts and the sentences which assert them. Against such errors, +the only safeguard is to be able, once in a way, to discard words +for a moment and contemplate facts more directly through images. +Most serious advances in philosophic thought result from some +such comparatively direct contemplation of facts. But the outcome +has to be expressed in words if it is to be communicable. Those +who have a relatively direct vision of facts are often incapable +of translating their vision into words, while those who possess +the words have usually lost the vision. It is partly for this +reason that the highest philosophical capacity is so rare: it +requires a combination of vision with abstract words which is +hard to achieve, and too quickly lost in the few who have for a +moment achieved it. + + + +LECTURE XI. GENERAL IDEAS AND THOUGHT + +It is said to be one of the merits of the human mind that it is +capable of framing abstract ideas, and of conducting +nonsensational thought. In this it is supposed to differ from the +mind of animals. From Plato onward the "idea" has played a great +part in the systems of idealizing philosophers. The "idea" has +been, in their hands, always something noble and abstract, the +apprehension and use of which by man confers upon him a quite +special dignity. + +The thing we have to consider to-day is this: seeing that there +certainly are words of which the meaning is abstract, and seeing +that we can use these words intelligently, what must be assumed +or inferred, or what can be discovered by observation, in the way +of mental content to account for the intelligent use of abstract +words? + +Taken as a problem in logic, the answer is, of course, that +absolutely nothing in the way of abstract mental content is +inferable from the mere fact that we can use intelligently words +of which the meaning is abstract. It is clear that a sufficiently +ingenious person could manufacture a machine moved by olfactory +stimuli which, whenever a dog appeared in its neighbourhood, +would say, "There is a dog," and when a cat appeared would throw +stones at it. The act of saying "There is a dog," and the act of +throwing stones, would in such a case be equally mechanical. +Correct speech does not of itself afford any better evidence of +mental content than the performance of any other set of +biologically useful movements, such as those of flight or combat. +All that is inferable from language is that two instances of a +universal, even when they differ very greatly, may cause the +utterance of two instances of the same word which only differ +very slightly. As we saw in the preceding lecture, the word "dog" +is useful, partly, because two instances of this word are much +more similar than (say) a pug and a great dane. The use of words +is thus a method of substituting for two particulars which differ +widely, in spite of being instances of the same universal, two +other particulars which differ very little, and which are also +instances of a universal, namely the name of the previous +universal. Thus, so far as logic is concerned, we are entirely +free to adopt any theory as to general ideas which empirical +observation may recommend. + +Berkeley and Hume made a vigorous onslaught on "abstract ideas." +They meant by an idea approximately what we should call an image. +Locke having maintained that he could form an idea of triangle in +general, without deciding what sort of triangle it was to be, +Berkeley contended that this was impossible. He says: + +"Whether others,have this wonderful faculty of abstracting their +ideas, they best can tell: for myself, I dare be confident I have +it not. I find, indeed, I have indeed a faculty of imagining, or +representing to myself, the ideas of those particular things I +have perceived, and of variously compounding and dividing them. I +can imagine a man with two heads, or the upper parts of a man +joined to the body of a horse. I can consider the hand, the eye, +the nose, each by itself abstracted or separated from the rest of +the body. But, then, whatever hand or eye I imagine, it must have +some particular shape and colour. Likewise the idea of a man that +I frame to myself must be either of a white, or a black, or a +tawny, a straight, or a crooked, a tall, or a low, or a +middle-sized man. I cannot by any effort of thought conceive the +abstract idea above described. And it is equally impossible for +me to form the abstract idea of motion distinct from the body +moving, and which is neither swift nor slow, curvilinear nor +rectilinear; and the like may be said of all other abstract +general ideas whatsoever. To be plain, I own myself able to +abstract in one sense, as when I consider some particular parts +of qualities separated from others, with which, though they are +united in some object, yet it is possible they may really exist +without them. But I deny that I can abstract from one another, or +conceive separately, those qualities which it is impossible +should exist so separated; or that I can frame a general notion, +by abstracting from particulars in the manner aforesaid--which +last are the two proper acceptations of ABSTRACTION. And there is +ground to think most men will acknowledge themselves to be in my +case. The generality of men which are simple and illiterate never +pretend to ABSTRACT NOTIONS. It is said they are difficult and +not to be attained without pains and study; we may therefore +reasonably conclude that, if such there be, they are confined +only to the learned. + +"I proceed to examine what can be alleged in defence of the +doctrine of abstraction, and try if I can discover what it is +that inclines the men of speculation to embrace an opinion so +remote from common sense as that seems to be. There has been a +late excellent and deservedly esteemed philosopher who, no doubt, +has given it very much countenance, by seeming to think the +having abstract general ideas is what puts the widest difference +in point of understanding betwixt man and beast. 'The having of +general ideas,' saith he, 'is that which puts a perfect +distinction betwixt man and brutes, and is an excellency which +the faculties of brutes do by no means attain unto. For, it is +evident we observe no footsteps in them of making use of general +signs for universal ideas; from which we have reason to imagine +that they have not the faculty of abstracting, or making general +ideas, since they have no use of words or any other general +signs.' And a little after: 'Therefore, I think, we may suppose +that it is in this that the species of brutes are discriminated +from men, and it is that proper difference wherein they are +wholly separated, and which at last widens to so wide a distance. +For, if they have any ideas at all, and are not bare machines (as +some would have them), we cannot deny them to have some reason. +It seems as evident to me that they do, some of them, in certain +instances reason as that they have sense; but it is only in +particular ideas, just as they receive them from their senses. +They are the best of them tied up within those narrow bounds, and +have not (as I think) the faculty to enlarge them by any kind of +abstraction.* ("Essay on Human Understanding," Bk. II, chap. xi, +paragraphs 10 and 11.) I readily agree with this learned author, +that the faculties of brutes can by no means attain to +abstraction. But, then, if this be made the distinguishing +property of that sort of animals, I fear a great many of those +that pass for men must be reckoned into their number. The reason +that is here assigned why we have no grounds to think brutes have +abstract general ideas is, that we observe in them no use of +words or any other general signs; which is built on this +supposition-that the making use of words implies the having +general ideas. From which it follows that men who use language +are able to abstract or generalize their ideas. That this is the +sense and arguing of the author will further appear by his +answering the question he in another place puts: 'Since all +things that exist are only particulars, how come we by general +terms?' His answer is: 'Words become general by being made the +signs of general ideas.' ("Essay on Human Understanding," Bk. +III, chap. III, paragraph 6.) But it seems that a word becomes +general by being made the sign, not of an abstract general idea, +but of several particular ideas, any one of which it +indifferently suggests to the mind. For example, when it is said +'the change of motion is proportional to the impressed force,' or +that 'whatever has extension is divisible,' these propositions +are to be understood of motion and extension in general; and +nevertheless it will not follow that they suggest to my thoughts +an idea of motion without a body moved, or any determinate +direction and velocity, or that I must conceive an abstract +general idea of extension, which is neither line, surface, nor +solid, neither great nor small, black, white, nor red, nor of any +other determinate colour. It is only implied that whatever +particular motion I consider, whether it be swift or slow, +perpendicular, horizontal, or oblique, or in whatever object, the +axiom concerning it holds equally true. As does the other of +every particular extension, it matters not whether line, surface, +or solid, whether of this or that magnitude or figure. + +"By observing how ideas become general, we may the better judge +how words are made so. And here it is to be noted that I do not +deny absolutely there are general ideas, but only that there are +any ABSTRACT general ideas; for, in the passages we have quoted +wherein there is mention of general ideas, it is always supposed +that they are formed by abstraction, after the manner set forth +in sections 8 and 9. Now, if we will annex a meaning to our +words, and speak only of what we can conceive, I believe we shall +acknowledge that an idea which, considered in itself, is +particular, becomes general by being made to represent or stand +for all other particular ideas of the same sort. To make this +plain by an example, suppose a geometrician is demonstrating the +method of cutting a line in two equal parts. He draws, for +instance, a black line of an inch in length: this, which in +itself is a particular line, is nevertheless with regard to its +signification general, since, as it is there used, it represents +all particular lines whatsoever; so that what is demonstrated of +it is demonstrated of all lines, or, in other words, of a line in +general. And, as THAT PARTICULAR LINE becomes general by being +made a sign, so the NAME 'line,' which taken absolutely is +particular, by being a sign is made general. And as the former +owes its generality not to its being the sign of an abstract or +general line, but of all particular right lines that may possibly +exist, so the latter must be thought to derive its generality +from the same cause, namely, the various particular lines which +it indifferently denotes." * + +* Introduction to "A Treatise concerning the Principles of Human +Knowledge," paragraphs 10, 11, and 12. + + +Berkeley's view in the above passage, which is essentially the +same as Hume's, does not wholly agree with modern psychology, +although it comes nearer to agreement than does the view of those +who believe that there are in the mind single contents which can +be called abstract ideas. The way in which Berkeley's view is +inadequate is chiefly in the fact that images are as a rule not +of one definite prototype, but of a number of related similar +prototypes. On this subject Semon has written well. In "Die +Mneme," pp. 217 ff., discussing the effect of repeated similar +stimuli in producing and modifying our images, he says: "We +choose a case of mnemic excitement whose existence we can +perceive for ourselves by introspection, and seek to ekphore the +bodily picture of our nearest relation in his absence, and have +thus a pure mnemic excitement before us. At first it may seem to +us that a determinate quite concrete picture becomes manifest in +us, but just when we are concerned with a person with whom we are +in constant contact, we shall find that the ekphored picture has +something so to speak generalized. It is something like those +American photographs which seek to display what is general about +a type by combining a great number of photographs of different +heads over each other on one plate. In our opinion, the +generalizations happen by the homophonic working of different +pictures of the same face which we have come across in the most +different conditions and situations, once pale, once reddened, +once cheerful, once earnest, once in this light, and once in +that. As soon as we do not let the whole series of repetitions +resound in us uniformly, but give our attention to one particular +moment out of the many... this particular mnemic stimulus at once +overbalances its simultaneously roused predecessors and +successors, and we perceive the face in question with concrete +definiteness in that particular situation." A little later he +says: "The result is--at least in man, but probably also in the +higher animals--the development of a sort of PHYSIOLOGICAL +abstraction. Mnemic homophony gives us, without the addition of +other processes of thought, a picture of our friend X which is in +a certain sense abstract, not the concrete in any one situation, +but X cut loose from any particular point of time. If the circle +of ekphored engrams is drawn even more widely, abstract pictures +of a higher order appear: for instance, a white man or a negro. +In my opinion, the first form of abstract concepts in general is +based upon such abstract pictures. The physiological abstraction +which takes place in the above described manner is a predecessor +of purely logical abstraction. It is by no means a monopoly of +the human race, but shows itself in various ways also among the +more highly organized animals." The same subject is treated in +more detail in Chapter xvi of "Die mnemischen Empfindungen," but +what is said there adds nothing vital to what is contained in the +above quotations. + +It is necessary, however, to distinguish between the vague and +the general. So long as we are content with Semon's composite +image, we MAY get no farther than the vague. The question whether +this image takes us to the general or not depends, I think, upon +the question whether, in addition to the generalized image, we +have also particular images of some of the instances out of which +it is compounded. Suppose, for example, that on a number of +occasions you had seen one negro, and that you did not know +whether this one was the same or different on the different +occasions. Suppose that in the end you had an abstract +memory-image of the different appearances presented by the negro +on different occasions, but no memory-image of any one of the +single appearances. In that case your image would be vague. If, +on the other hand, you have, in addition to the generalized +image, particular images of the several appearances, sufficiently +clear to be recognized as different, and as instances of the +generalized picture, you will then not feel the generalized +picture to be adequate to any one particular appearance, and you +will be able to make it function as a general idea rather than a +vague idea. If this view is correct, no new general content needs +to be added to the generalized image. What needs to be added is +particular images compared and contrasted with the generalized +image. So far as I can judge by introspection, this does occur in +practice. Take for example Semon's instance of a friend's face. +Unless we make some special effort of recollection, the face is +likely to come before us with an average expression, very blurred +and vague, but we can at will recall how our friend looked on +some special occasion when he was pleased or angry or unhappy, +and this enables us to realize the generalized character of the +vague image. + +There is, however, another way of distinguishing between the +vague, the particular and the general, and this is not by their +content, but by the reaction which they produce. A word, for +example, may be said to be vague when it is applicable to a +number of different individuals, but to each as individuals; the +name Smith, for example, is vague: it is always meant to apply to +one man, but there are many men to each of whom it applies.* The +word "man," on the other hand, is general. We say, "This is +Smith," but we do not say "This is man," but "This is a man." +Thus we may say that a word embodies a vague idea when its +effects are appropriate to an individual, but are the same for +various similar individuals, while a word embodies a general idea +when its effects are different from those appropriate to +individuals. In what this difference consists it is, however, not +easy to say. I am inclined to think that it consists merely in +the knowledge that no one individual is represented, so that what +distinguishes a general idea from a vague idea is merely the +presence of a certain accompanying belief. If this view is +correct, a general idea differs from a vague one in a way +analogous to that in which a memory-image differs from an +imagination-image. There also we found that the difference +consists merely of the fact that a memory-image is accompanied by +a belief, in this case as to the past. + +* "Smith" would only be a quite satisfactory representation of +vague words if we failed to discriminate between different people +called Smith. + + +It should also be said that our images even of quite particular +occurrences have always a greater or a less degree of vagueness. +That is to say, the occurrence might have varied within certain +limits without causing our image to vary recognizably. To arrive +at the general it is necessary that we should be able to contrast +it with a number of relatively precise images or words for +particular occurrences; so long as all our images and words are +vague, we cannot arrive at the contrast by which the general is +defined. This is the justification for the view which I quoted on +p. 184 from Ribot (op. cit., p. 32), viz. that intelligence +progresses from the indefinite to the definite, and that the +vague appears earlier than either the particular or the general. + +I think the view which I have been advocating, to the effect that +a general idea is distinguished from a vague one by the presence +of a judgment, is also that intended by Ribot when he says (op. +cit., p. 92): "The generic image is never, the concept is always, +a judgment. We know that for logicians (formerly at any rate) the +concept is the simple and primitive element; next comes the +judgment, uniting two or several concepts; then ratiocination, +combining two or several judgments. For the psychologists, on the +contrary, affirmation is the fundamental act; the concept is the +result of judgment (explicit or implicit), of similarities with +exclusion of differences." + +A great deal of work professing to be experimental has been done +in recent years on the psychology of thought. A good summary of +such work up to the year agog is contained in Titchener's +"Lectures on the Experimental Psychology of the Thought +Processes" (1909). Three articles in the "Archiv fur die gesammte +Psychologie" by Watt,* Messer** and Buhler*** contain a great +deal of the material amassed by the methods which Titchener calls +experimental. + +* Henry J. Watt, "Experimentelle Beitrage zu einer Theorie des +Denkens," vol. iv (1905) pp. 289-436. + +** August Messer, "Experimentell-psychologische Untersuchu gen +uber das Denken," vol. iii (1906), pp. 1-224. + +*** Karl Buhler, "Uber Gedanken," vol. ix (1907), pp. 297-365. + + +For my part I am unable to attach as much importance to this work +as many psychologists do. The method employed appears to me +hardly to fulfil the conditions of scientific experiment. Broadly +speaking, what is done is, that a set of questions are asked of +various people, their answers are recorded, and likewise their +own accounts, based upon introspection, of the processes of +thought which led them to give those answers. Much too much +reliance seems to me to be placed upon the correctness of their +introspection. On introspection as a method I have spoken earlier +(Lecture VI). I am not prepared, like Professor Watson, to reject +it wholly, but I do consider that it is exceedingly fallible and +quite peculiarly liable to falsification in accordance with +preconceived theory. It is like depending upon the report of a +shortsighted person as to whom he sees coming along the road at a +moment when he is firmly convinced that Jones is sure to come. If +everybody were shortsighted and obsessed with beliefs as to what +was going to be visible, we might have to make the best of such +testimony, but we should need to correct its errors by taking +care to collect the simultaneous evidence of people with the most +divergent expectations. There is no evidence that this was done +in the experiments in question, nor indeed that the influence of +theory in falsifying the introspection was at all adequately +recognized. I feel convinced that if Professor Watson had been +one of the subjects of the questionnaires, he would have given +answers totally different from those recorded in the articles in +question. Titchener quotes an opinion of Wundt on these +investigations, which appears to me thoroughly justified. "These +experiments," he says, "are not experiments at all in the sense +of a scientific methodology; they are counterfeit experiments, +that seem methodical simply because they are ordinarily performed +in a psychological laboratory, and involve the co-operation of +two persons, who purport to be experimenter and observer. In +reality, they are as unmethodical as possible; they possess none +of the special features by which we distinguish the +introspections of experimental psychology from the casual +introspections of everyday life."* Titchener, of course, dissents +from this opinion, but I cannot see that his reasons for dissent +are adequate. My doubts are only increased by the fact that +Buhler at any rate used trained psychologists as his subjects. A +trained psychologist is, of course, supposed to have acquired the +habit of observation, but he is at least equally likely to have +acquired a habit of seeing what his theories require. We may take +Buhler's "Uber Gedanken" to illustrate the kind of results +arrived at by such methods. Buhler says (p. 303): "We ask +ourselves the general question: 'WHAT DO WE EXPERIENCE WHEN WE +THINK?' Then we do not at all attempt a preliminary determination +of the concept 'thought,' but choose for analysis only such +processes as everyone would describe as processes of thought." +The most important thing in thinking, he says, is "awareness +that..." (Bewusstheit dass), which he calls a thought. It is, he +says, thoughts in this sense that are essential to thinking. +Thinking, he maintains, does not need language or sensuous +presentations. "I assert rather that in principle every object +can be thought (meant) distinctly, without any help from sensuous +presentation (Anschauungshilfen). Every individual shade of blue +colour on the picture that hangs in my room I can think with +complete distinctness unsensuously (unanschaulich), provided it +is possible that the object should be given to me in another +manner than by the help of sensations. How that is possible we +shall see later." What he calls a thought (Gedanke) cannot be +reduced, according to him, to other psychic occurrences. He +maintains that thoughts consist for the most part of known rules +(p. 342). It is clearly essential to the interest of this theory +that the thought or rule alluded to by Buhler should not need to +be expressed in words, for if it is expressed in words it is +immediately capable of being dealt with on the lines with which +the behaviourists have familiarized us. It is clear also that the +supposed absence of words rests solely upon the introspective +testimony of the persons experimented upon. I cannot think that +there is sufficient certainty of their reliability in this +negative observation to make us accept a difficult and +revolutionary view of thought, merely because they have failed to +observe the presence of words or their equivalent in their +thinking. I think it far more likely, especially in view of the +fact that the persons concerned were highly educated, that we are +concerned with telescoped processes, in which habit has caused a +great many intermediate terms to be elided or to be passed over +so quickly as to escape observation. + +* Titchener, op. cit., p. 79. + + +I am inclined to think that similar remarks apply to the general +idea of "imageless thinking," concerning which there has been +much controversy. The advocates of imageless thinking are not +contending merely that there can be thinking which is purely +verbal; they are contending that there can be thinking which +proceeds neither in words nor in images. My own feeling is that +they have rashly assumed the presence of thinking in cases where +habit has rendered thinking unnecessary. When Thorndike +experimented with animals in cages, he found that the +associations established were between a sensory stimulus and a +bodily movement (not the idea of it), without the need of +supposing any non-physiological intermediary (op. cit., p. 100 +ff.). The same thing, it seems to me, applies to ourselves. A +certain sensory situation produces in us a certain bodily +movement. Sometimes this movement consists in uttering words. +Prejudice leads us to suppose that between the sensory stimulus +and the utterance of the words a process of thought must have +intervened, but there seems no good reason for such a +supposition. Any habitual action, such as eating or dressing, may +be performed on the appropriate occasion, without any need of +thought, and the same seems to be true of a painfully large +proportion of our talk. What applies to uttered speech applies of +course equally to the internal speech which is not uttered. I +remain, therefore, entirely unconvinced that there is any such +phenomenon as thinking which consists neither of images nor of +words, or that "ideas" have to be added to sensations and images +as part of the material out of which mental phenomena are built. + +The question of the nature of our consciousness of the universal +is much affected by our view as to the general nature of the +relation of consciousness to its object. If we adopt the view of +Brentano, according to which all mental content has essential +reference to an object, it is then natural to suppose that there +is some peculiar kind of mental content of which the object is a +universal, as oppose to a particular. According to this view, a +particular cat can be PERceived or imagined, while the universal +"cat" is CONceived. But this whole manner of viewing our dealings +with universals has to be abandoned when the relation of a mental +occurrence to its "object" is regarded as merely indirect and +causal, which is the view that we have adopted. The mental +content is, of course, always particular, and the question as to +what it "means" (in case it means anything) is one which cannot +be settled by merely examining the intrinsic character of the +mental content, but only by knowing its causal connections in the +case of the person concerned. To say that a certain thought +"means" a universal as opposed to either a vague or a particular, +is to say something exceedingly complex. A horse will behave in a +certain manner whenever he smells a bear, even if the smell is +derived from a bearskin. That is to say, any environment +containing an instance of the universal "smell of a bear" +produces closely similar behaviour in the horse, but we do not +say that the horse is conscious of this universal. There is +equally little reason to regard a man as conscious of the same +universal, because under the same circumstances he can react by +saying, "I smell a bear." This reaction, like that of the horse, +is merely closely similar on different occasions where the +environment affords instances of the same universal. Words of +which the logical meaning is universal can therefore be employed +correctly, without anything that could be called consciousness of +universals. Such consciousness in the only sense in which it can +be said to exist is a matter of reflective judgment consisting in +the observation of similarities and differences. A universal +never appears before the mind as a single object in the sort of +way in which something perceived appears. I THINK a logical +argument could be produced to show that universals are part of +the structure of the world, but they are an inferred part, not a +part of our data. What exists in us consists of various factors, +some open to external observation, others only visible to +introspection. The factors open to external observation are +primarily habits, having the peculiarity that very similar +reactions are produced by stimuli which are in many respects very +different from each other. Of this the reaction of the horse to +the smell of the bear is an instance, and so is the reaction of +the man who says "bear" under the same circumstances. The verbal +reaction is, of course, the most important from the point of view +of what may be called knowledge of universals. A man who can +always use the word "dog" when he sees a dog may be said, in a +certain sense, to know the meaning of the word "dog," and IN THAT +SENSE to have knowledge of the universal "dog." But there is, of +course, a further stage reached by the logician in which he not +merely reacts with the word "dog," but sets to work to discover +what it is in the environment that causes in him this almost +identical reaction on different occasions. This further stage +consists in knowledge of similarities and differences: +similarities which are necessary to the applicability of the word +"dog," and differences which are compatible with it. Our +knowledge of these similarities and differences is never +exhaustive, and therefore our knowledge of the meaning of a +universal is never complete. + +In addition to external observable habits (including the habit of +words), there is also the generic image produced by the +superposition, or, in Semon's phrase, homophony, of a number of +similar perceptions. This image is vague so long as the +multiplicity of its prototypes is not recognized, but becomes +universal when it exists alongside of the more specific images of +its instances, and is knowingly contrasted with them. In this +case we find again, as we found when we were discussing words in +general in the preceding lecture, that images are not logically +necessary in order to account for observable behaviour, i.e. in +this case intelligent speech. Intelligent speech could exist as a +motor habit, without any accompaniment of images, and this +conclusion applies to words of which the meaning is universal, +just as much as to words of which the meaning is relatively +particular. If this conclusion is valid, it follows that +behaviourist psychology, which eschews introspective data, is +capable of being an independent science, and of accounting for +all that part of the behaviour of other people which is commonly +regarded as evidence that they think. It must be admitted that +this conclusion considerably weakens the reliance which can be +placed upon introspective data. They must be accepted simply on +account of the fact that we seem to perceive them, not on account +of their supposed necessity for explaining the data of external +observation. + +This, at any rate, is the conclusion to which. we are forced, so +long as, with the behaviourists, we accept common-sense views of +the physical world. But if, as I have urged, the physical world +itself, as known, is infected through and through with +subjectivity, if, as the theory of relativity suggests, the +physical universe contains the diversity of points of view which +we have been accustomed to regard as distinctively psychological, +then we are brought back by this different road to the necessity +for trusting observations which are in an important sense +private. And it is the privacy of introspective data which causes +much of the behaviourists' objection to them. + +This is an example of the difficulty of constructing an adequate +philosophy of any one science without taking account of other +sciences. The behaviourist philosophy of psychology, though in +many respects admirable from the point of view of method, appears +to me to fail in the last analysis because it is based upon an +inadequate philosophy of physics. In spite, therefore, of the +fact that the evidence for images, whether generic or particular, +is merely introspective, I cannot admit that images should be +rejected, or that we should minimize their function in our +knowledge of what is remote in time or space. + + + +LECTURE XII. BELIEF + +Belief, which is our subject to-day, is the central problem in +the analysis of mind. Believing seems the most "mental" thing we +do, the thing most remote from what is done by mere matter. The +whole intellectual life consists of beliefs, and of the passage +from one belief to another by what is called "reasoning." Beliefs +give knowledge and error; they are the vehicles of truth and +falsehood. Psychology, theory of knowledge and metaphysics +revolve about belief, and on the view we take of belief our +philosophical outlook largely depends. + +Before embarking upon the detailed analysis of belief, we shall +do well to note certain requisites which any theory must fulfil. + +(1) Just as words are characterized by meaning, so beliefs are +characterized by truth or falsehood. And just as meaning consists +in relation to the object meant, so truth and falsehood consist +in relation to something that lies outside the belief. You may +believe that such-and-such a horse will win the Derby. The time +comes, and your horse wins or does not win; according to the +outcome, your belief was true or false. You may believe that six +times nine is fifty-six; in this case also there is a fact which +makes your belief false. You may believe that America was +discovered in 1492, or that it was discovered in 1066. In the one +case your belief is true, in the other false; in either case its +truth or falsehood depends upon the actions of Columbus, not upon +anything present or under your control. What makes a belief true +or false I call a "fact." The particular fact that makes a given +belief true or false I call its "objective,"* and the relation of +the belief to its objective I call the "reference" or the +"objective reference" of the belief. Thus, if I believe that +Columbus crossed the Atlantic in 1492, the "objective" of my +belief is Columbus's actual voyage, and the "reference" of my +belief is the relation between my belief and the voyage--that +relation, namely, in virtue of which the voyage makes my belief +true (or, in another case, false). "Reference" of beliefs differs +from "meaning" of words in various ways, but especially in the +fact that it is of two kinds, "true" reference and "false" +reference. The truth or falsehood of a belief does not depend +upon anything intrinsic to the belief, but upon the nature of its +relation to its objective. The intrinsic nature of belief can be +treated without reference to what makes it true or false. In the +remainder of the present lecture I shall ignore truth and +falsehood, which will be the subject of Lecture XIII. It is the +intrinsic nature of belief that will concern us to-day. + +* This terminology is suggested by Meinong, but is not exactly +the same as his. + + +(2) We must distinguish between believing and what is believed. I +may believe that Columbus crossed the Atlantic, that all Cretans +are liars, that two and two are four, or that nine times six is +fifty-six; in all these cases the believing is just the same, and +only the contents believed are different. I may remember my +breakfast this morning, my lecture last week, or my first sight +of New York. In all these cases the feeling of memory-belief is +just the same, and only what is remembered differs. Exactly +similar remarks apply to expectations. Bare assent, memory and +expectation are forms of belief; all three are different from +what is believed, and each has a constant character which is +independent of what is believed. + +In Lecture I we criticized the analysis of a presentation into +act, content and object. But our analysis of belief contains +three very similar elements, namely the believing, what is +believed and the objective. The objections to the act (in the +case of presentations) are not valid against the believing in the +case of beliefs, because the believing is an actual experienced +feeling, not something postulated, like the act. But it is +necessary first to complete our preliminary requisites, and then +to examine the content of a belief. After that, we shall be in a +position to return to the question as to what constitutes +believing. + +(3) What is believed, and the believing, must both consist of +present occurrences in the believer, no matter what may be the +objective of the belief. Suppose I believe, for example, "that +Caesar crossed the Rubicon." The objective of my belief is an +event which happened long ago, which I never saw and do not +remember. This event itself is not in my mind when I believe that +it happened. It is not correct to say that I am believing the +actual event; what I am believing is something now in my mind, +something related to the event (in a way which we shall +investigate in Lecture XIII), but obviously not to be confounded +with the event, since the event is not occurring now but the +believing is. What a man is believing at a given moment is wholly +determinate if we know the contents of his mind at that moment; +but Caesar's crossing of the Rubicon was an historical physical +event, which is distinct from the present contents of every +present mind. What is believed, however true it may be, is not +the actual fact that makes the belief true, but a present event +related to the fact. This present event, which is what is +believed, I shall call the "content" of the belief. We have +already had occasion to notice the distinction between content +and objective in the case of memory-beliefs, where the content is +"this occurred" and the objective is the past event. + +(4) Between content and objective there is sometimes a very wide +gulf, for example in the case of "Caesar crossed the Rubicon." +This gulf may, when it is first perceived, give us a feeling that +we cannot really " know " anything about the outer world. All we +can "know," it may be said, is what is now in our thoughts. If +Caesar and the Rubicon cannot be bodily in our thoughts, it might +seem as though we must remain cut off from knowledge of them. I +shall not now deal at length with this feeling, since it is +necessary first to define "knowing," which cannot be done yet. +But I will say, as a preliminary answer, that the feeling assumes +an ideal of knowing which I believe to be quite mistaken. ~ it +assumes, if it is thought out, something like the mystic unity of +knower and known. These two are often said to be combined into a +unity by the fact of cognition; hence when this unity is plainly +absent, it may seem as if there were no genuine cognition. For my +part, I think such theories and feelings wholly mistaken: I +believe knowing to be a very external and complicated relation, +incapable of exact definition, dependent upon causal laws, and +involving no more unity than there is between a signpost and the +town to which it points. I shall return to this question on a +later occasion; for the moment these provisional remarks must +suffice. + +(5) The objective reference of a belief is connected with the +fact that all or some of the constituents of its content have +meaning. If I say "Caesar conquered Gaul," a person who knows the +meaning of the three words composing my statement knows as much +as can be known about the nature of the objective which would +make my statement true. It is clear that the objective reference +of a belief is, in general, in some way derivative from the +meanings of the words or images that occur in its content. There +are, however, certain complications which must be borne in mind. +In the first place, it might be contended that a memory-image +acquires meaning only through the memory-belief, which would +seem, at least in the case of memory, to make belief more +primitive than the meaning of images. In the second place, it is +a very singular thing that meaning, which is single, should +generate objective reference, which is dual, namely true and +false. This is one of the facts which any theory of belief must +explain if it is to be satisfactory. + +It is now time to leave these preliminary requisites, and attempt +the analysis of the contents of beliefs. + +The first thing to notice about what is believed, i.e. about the +content of a belief, is that it is always complex: We believe +that a certain thing has a certain property, or a certain +relation to something else, or that it occurred or will occur (in +the sense discussed at the end of Lecture IX); or we may believe +that all the members of a certain class have a certain property, +or that a certain property sometimes occurs among the members of +a class; or we may believe that if one thing happens, another +will happen (for example, "if it rains I shall bring my +umbrella"), or we may believe that something does not happen, or +did not or will not happen (for example, "it won't rain"); or +that one of two things must happen (for example, "either you +withdraw your accusation, or I shall bring a libel action"). The +catalogue of the sorts of things we may believe is infinite, but +all of them are complex. + +Language sometimes conceals the complexity of a belief. We say +that a person believes in God, and it might seem as if God formed +the whole content of the belief. But what is really believed is +that God exists, which is very far from being simple. Similarly, +when a person has a memory-image with a memory-belief, the belief +is "this occurred," in the sense explained in Lecture IX; and +"this occurred" is not simple. In like manner all cases where the +content of a belief seems simple at first sight will be found, on +examination, to confirm the view that the content is always +complex. + +The content of a belief involves not merely a plurality of +constituents, but definite relations between them; it is not +determinate when its constituents alone are given. For example, +"Plato preceded Aristotle" and "Aristotle preceded Plato" are +both contents which may be believed, but, although they consist +of exactly the same constituents, they are different, and even +incompatible. + +The content of a belief may consist of words only, or of images +only, or of a mixture of the two, or of either or both together +with one or more sensations. It must contain at least one +constituent which is a word or an image, and it may or may not +contain one or more sensations as constituents. Some examples +will make these various possibilities clear. + +We may take first recognition, in either of the forms "this is of +such-and-such a kind" or "this has occurred before." In either +case, present sensation is a constituent. For example, you hear a +noise, and you say to yourself "tram." Here the noise and the +word "tram" are both constituents of your belief; there is also a +relation between them, expressed by "is" in the proposition "that +is a tram." As soon as your act of recognition is completed by +the occurrence of the word "tram," your actions are affected: you +hurry if you want the tram, or cease to hurry if you want a bus. +In this case the content of your belief is a sensation (the +noise) and a word ("tram") related in a way which may be called +predication. + +The same noise may bring into your mind the visual image of a +tram, instead of the word "tram." In this case your belief +consists of a sensation and an image suitable related. Beliefs of +this class are what are called "judgments of perception." As we +saw in Lecture VIII, the images associated with a sensation often +come with such spontaneity and force that the unsophisticated do +not distinguish them from the sensation; it is only the +psychologist or the skilled observer who is aware of the large +mnemic element that is added to sensation to make perception. It +may be objected that what is added consists merely of images +without belief. This is no doubt sometimes the case, but is +certainly sometimes not the case. That belief always occurs in +perception as opposed to sensation it is not necessary for us to +maintain; it is enough for our purposes to note that it sometimes +occurs, and that when it does, the content of our belief consists +of a sensation and an image suitably related. + +In a PURE memory-belief only images occur. But a mixture of words +and images is very common in memory. You have an image of the +past occurrence, and you say to yourself: "Yes, that's how it +was." Here the image and the words together make up the content +of the belief. And when the remembering of an incident has become +a habit, it may be purely verbal, and the memory-belief may +consist of words alone. + +The more complicated forms of belief tend to consist only of +words. Often images of various kinds accompany them, but they are +apt to be irrelevant, and to form no part of what is actually +believed. For example, in thinking of the Solar System, you are +likely to have vague images of pictures you have seen of the +earth surrounded by clouds, Saturn and his rings, the sun during +an eclipse, and so on; but none of these form part of your belief +that the planets revolve round the sun in elliptical orbits. The +only images that form an actual part of such beliefs are, as a +rule, images of words. And images of words, for the reasons +considered in Lecture VIII, cannot be distinguished with any +certainty from sensations, when, as is often, if not usually, the +case, they are kinaesthetic images of pronouncing the words. + +It is impossible for a belief to consist of sensations alone, +except when, as in the case of words, the sensations have +associations which make them signs possessed of meaning. The +reason is that objective reference is of the essence of belief, +and objective reference is derived from meaning. When I speak of +a belief consisting partly of sensations and partly of words, I +do not mean to deny that the words, when they are not mere +images, are sensational, but that they occur as signs, not (so to +speak) in their own right. To revert to the noise of the tram, +when you hear it and say "tram," the noise and the word are both +sensations (if you actually pronounce the word), but the noise is +part of the fact which makes your belief true, whereas the word +is not part of this fact. It is the MEANING of the word "tram," +not the actual word, that forms part of the fact which is the +objective of your belief. Thus the word occurs in the belief as a +symbol, in virtue of its meaning, whereas the noise enters into +both the belief and its objective. It is this that distinguishes +the occurrence of words as symbols from the occurrence of +sensations in their own right: the objective contains the +sensations that occur in their own right, but contains only the +meanings of the words that occur as symbols. + +For the sake of simplicity, we may ignore the cases in which +sensations in their own right form part of the content of a +belief, and confine ourselves to images and words. We may also +omit the cases in which both images and words occur in the +content of a belief. Thus we become confined to two cases: (a) +when the content consists wholly of images, (b) when it consists +wholly of words. The case of mixed images and words has no +special importance, and its omission will do no harm. + +Let us take in illustration a case of memory. Suppose you are +thinking of some familiar room. You may call up an image of it, +and in your image the window may be to the left of the door. +Without any intrusion of words, you may believe in the +correctness of your image. You then have a belief, consisting +wholly of images, which becomes, when put into words, "the window +is to the left of the door." You may yourself use these words and +proceed to believe them. You thus pass from an image-content to +the corresponding word-content. The content is different in the +two cases, but its objective reference is the same. This shows +the relation of image-beliefs to word-beliefs in a very simple +case. In more elaborate cases the relation becomes much less +simple. + +It may be said that even in this very simple case the objective +reference of the word-content is not quite the same as that of +the image-content, that images have a wealth of concrete features +which are lost when words are substituted, that the window in the +image is not a mere window in the abstract, but a window of a +certain shape and size, not merely to the left of the door, but a +certain distance to the left, and so on. In reply, it may be +admitted at once that there is, as a rule, a certain amount of +truth in the objection. But two points may be urged to minimize +its force. First, images do not, as a rule, have that wealth of +concrete detail that would make it IMPOSSIBLE to express them +fully in words. They are vague and fragmentary: a finite number +of words, though perhaps a large number, would exhaust at least +their SIGNIFICANT features. For--and this is our second +point--images enter into the content of a belief through the fact +that they are capable of meaning, and their meaning does not, as +a rule, have as much complexity as they have: some of their +characteristics are usually devoid of meaning. Thus it may well +be possible to extract in words all that has meaning in an +image-content; in that case the word-content and the +image-content will have exactly the same objective reference. + +The content of a belief, when expressed in words, is the same +thing (or very nearly the same thing) as what in logic is called +a "proposition." A proposition is a series of words (or sometimes +a single word) expressing the kind of thing that can be asserted +or denied. "That all men are mortal," "that Columbus discovered +America," "that Charles I died in his bed," "that all +philosophers are wise," are propositions. Not any series of words +is a proposition, but only such series of words as have +"meaning," or, in our phraseology, "objective reference." Given +the meanings of separate words, and the rules of syntax, the +meaning of a proposition is determinate. This is the reason why +we can understand a sentence we never heard before. You probably +never heard before the proposition "that the inhabitants of the +Andaman Islands habitually eat stewed hippopotamus for dinner," +but there is no difficulty in understanding the proposition. The +question of the relation between the meaning of a sentence and +the meanings of the separate words is difficult, and I shall not +pursue it now; I brought it up solely as being illustrative of +the nature of propositions. + +We may extend the term "proposition" so as to cover the +image-contents of beliefs consisting of images. Thus, in the case +of remembering a room in which the window is to the left of the +door, when we believe the image-content the proposition will +consist of the image of the window on the left together with the +image of the door on the right. We will distinguish propositions +of this kind as "image-propositions" and propositions in words as +"word-propositions." We may identify propositions in general with +the contents of actual and possible beliefs, and we may say that +it is propositions that are true or false. In logic we are +concerned with propositions rather than beliefs, since logic is +not interested in what people do in fact believe, but only in the +conditions which determine the truth or falsehood of possible +beliefs. Whenever possible, except when actual beliefs are in +question, it is generally a simplification to deal with +propositions. + +It would seem that image-propositions are more primitive than +word-propositions, and may well ante-date language. There is no +reason why memory-images, accompanied by that very simple +belief-feeling which we decided to be the essence of memory, +should not have occurred before language arose; indeed, it would +be rash to assert positively that memory of this sort does not +occur among the higher animals. Our more elementary beliefs, +notably those that are added to sensation to make perception, +often remain at the level of images. For example, most of the +visual objects in our neighbourhood rouse tactile images: we have +a different feeling in looking at a sofa from what we have in +looking at a block of marble, and the difference consists chiefly +in different stimulation of our tactile imagination. It may be +said that the tactile images are merely present, without any +accompanying belief; but I think this view, though sometimes +correct, derives its plausibility as a general proposition from +our thinking of explicit conscious belief only. Most of our +beliefs, like most of our wishes, are "unconscious," in the sense +that we have never told ourselves that we have them. Such beliefs +display themselves when the expectations that they arouse fail in +any way. For example, if someone puts tea (without milk) into a +glass, and you drink it under the impression that it is going to +be beer; or if you walk on what appears to be a tiled floor, and +it turns out to be a soft carpet made to look like tiles. The +shock of surprise on an occasion of this kind makes us aware of +the expectations that habitually enter into our perceptions; and +such expectations must be classed as beliefs, in spite of the +fact that we do not normally take note of them or put them into +words. I remember once watching a cock pigeon running over and +over again to the edge of a looking-glass to try to wreak +vengeance on the particularly obnoxious bird whom he expected to +find there, judging by what he saw in the glass. He must have +experienced each time the sort of surprise on finding nothing, +which is calculated to lead in time to the adoption of Berkeley's +theory that objects of sense are only in the mind. His +expectation, though not expressed in words, deserved, I think, to +be called a belief. + +I come now to the question what constitutes believing, as opposed +to the content believed. + +To begin with, there are various different attitudes that may be +taken towards the same content. Let us suppose, for the sake of +argument, that you have a visual image of your breakfast-table. +You may expect it while you are dressing in the morning; remember +it as you go to your work; feel doubt as to its correctness when +questioned as to your powers of visualizing; merely entertain the +image, without connecting it with anything external, when you are +going to sleep; desire it if you are hungry, or feel aversion for +it if you are ill. Suppose, for the sake of definiteness, that +the content is "an egg for breakfast." Then you have the +following attitudes "I expect there will be an egg for +breakfast"; "I remember there was an egg for breakfast"; "Was +there an egg for breakfast?" "An egg for breakfast: well, what of +it?" "I hope there will be an egg for breakfast"; "I am afraid +there will be an egg for breakfast and it is sure to be bad." I +do not suggest that this is a list of all possible attitudes on +the subject; I say only that they are different attitudes, all +concerned with the one content "an egg for breakfast." + +These attitudes are not all equally ultimate. Those that involve +desire and aversion have occupied us in Lecture III. For the +present, we are only concerned with such as are cognitive. In +speaking of memory, we distinguished three kinds of belief +directed towards the same content, namely memory, expectation and +bare assent without any time-determination in the belief-feeling. +But before developing this view, we must examine two other +theories which might be held concerning belief, and which, in +some ways, would be more in harmony with a behaviourist outlook +than the theory I wish to advocate. + +(1) The first theory to be examined is the view that the +differentia of belief consists in its causal efficacy I do not +wish to make any author responsible for this theory: I wish +merely to develop it hypothetically so that we may judge of its +tenability. + +We defined the meaning of an image or word by causal efficacy, +namely by associations: an image or word acquires meaning, we +said, through having the same associations as what it means. + +We propose hypothetically to define "belief" by a different kind +of causal efficacy, namely efficacy in causing voluntary +movements. (Voluntary movements are defined as those vital +movements which are distinguished from reflex movements as +involving the higher nervous centres. I do not like to +distinguish them by means of such notions as "consciousness" or +"will," because I do not think these notions, in any definable +sense, are always applicable. Moreover, the purpose of the theory +we are examining is to be, as far as possible, physiological and +behaviourist, and this purpose is not achieved if we introduce +such a conception as "consciousness" or "will." Nevertheless, it +is necessary for our purpose to find some way of distinguishing +between voluntary and reflex movements, since the results would +be too paradoxical, if we were to say that reflex movements also +involve beliefs.) According to this definition, a content is said +to be "believed" when it causes us to move. The images aroused +are the same if you say to me, "Suppose there were an escaped +tiger coming along the street," and if you say to me, "There is +an escaped tiger coming along the street." But my actions will be +very different in the two cases: in the first, I shall remain +calm; in the second, it is possible that I may not. It is +suggested, by the theory we are considering, that this difference +of effects constitutes what is meant by saying that in the second +case I believe the proposition suggested, while in the first case +I do not. According to this view, images or words are "believed" +when they cause bodily movements. + +I do not think this theory is adequate, but I think it is +suggestive of truth, and not so easily refutable as it might +appear to be at first sight. + +It might be objected to the theory that many things which we +certainly believe do not call for any bodily movements. I believe +that Great Britain is an island, that whales are mammals, that +Charles I was executed, and so on; and at first sight it seems +obvious that such beliefs, as a rule, do not call for any action +on my part. But when we investigate the matter more closely, it +becomes more doubtful. To begin with, we must distinguish belief +as a mere DISPOSITION from actual active belief. We speak as if +we always believed that Charles I was executed, but that only +means that we are always ready to believe it when the subject +comes up. The phenomenon we are concerned to analyse is the +active belief, not the permanent disposition. Now, what are the +occasions when, we actively believe that Charles I was executed? +Primarily: examinations, when we perform the bodily movement of +writing it down; conversation, when we assert it to display our +historical erudition; and political discourses, when we are +engaged in showing what Soviet government leads to. In all these +cases bodily movements (writing or speaking) result from our +belief. + +But there remains the belief which merely occurs in "thinking." +One may set to work to recall some piece of history one has been +reading, and what one recalls is believed, although it probably +does not cause any bodily movement whatever. It is true that what +we believe always MAY influence action. Suppose I am invited to +become King of Georgia: I find the prospect attractive, and go to +Cook's to buy a third-class ticket to my new realm. At the last +moment I remember Charles I and all the other monarchs who have +come to a bad end; I change my mind, and walk out without +completing the transaction. But such incidents are rare, and +cannot constitute the whole of my belief that Charles I was +executed. The conclusion seems to be that, although a belief +always MAY influence action if it becomes relevant to a practical +issue, it often exists actively (not as a mere disposition) +without producing any voluntary movement whatever. If this is +true, we cannot define belief by the effect on voluntary +movements. + +There is another, more theoretical, ground for rejecting the view +we are examining. It is clear that a proposition can be either +believed or merely considered, and that the content is the same +in both cases. We can expect an egg for breakfast, or merely +entertain the supposition that there may be an egg for breakfast. +A moment ago I considered the possibility of being invited to +become King of Georgia, but I do not believe that this will +happen. Now, it seems clear that, since believing and considering +have different effects if one produces bodily movements while the +other does not, there must be some intrinsic difference between +believing and considering*; for if they were precisely similar, +their effects also would be precisely similar. We have seen that +the difference between believing a given proposition and merely +considering it does not lie in the content; therefore there must +be, in one case or in both, something additional to the content +which distinguishes the occurrence of a belief from the +occurrence of a mere consideration of the same content. So far as +the theoretical argument goes, this additional element may exist +only in belief, or only in consideration, or there may be one +sort of additional element in the case of belief, and another in +the case of consideration. This brings us to the second view +which we have to examine. + +* Cf. Brentano, "Psychologie vom empirischen Standpunkte," p. 268 +(criticizing Bain, "The Emotions and the Will"). + + +(1) The theory which we have now to consider regards belief as +belonging to every idea which is entertained, except in so far as +some positive counteracting force interferes. In this view belief +is not a positive phenomenon, though doubt and disbelief are so. +What we call belief, according to this hypothesis, involves only +the appropriate content, which will have the effects +characteristic of belief unless something else operating +simultaneously inhibits them. James (Psychology, vol. ii, p. 288) +quotes with approval, though inaccurately, a passage from Spinoza +embodying this view: + +"Let us conceive a boy imagining to himself a horse, and taking +note of nothing else. As this imagination involves the existence +of the horse, AND THE BOY HAS NO PERCEPTION WHICH ANNULS ITS +EXISTENCE [James's italics], he will necessarily contemplate the +horse as present, nor will he be able to doubt of its existence, +however little certain of it he may be. I deny that a man in so +far as he imagines [percipit] affirms nothing. For what is it to +imagine a winged horse but to affirm that the horse [that horse, +namely] has wings? For if the mind had nothing before it but the +winged horse, it would contemplate the same as present, would +have no cause to doubt of its existence, nor any power of +dissenting from its existence, unless the imagination of the +winged horse were joined to an idea which contradicted [tollit] +its existence" ("Ethics," vol. ii, p. 49, Scholium). + +To this doctrine James entirely assents, adding in italics: + +"ANY OBJECT WHICH REMAINS UNCONTRADICTED IS IPSO FACTO BELIEVED +AND POSITED AS ABSOLUTE REALITY." + +If this view is correct, it follows (though James does not draw +the inference) that there is no need of any specific feeling +called "belief," and that the mere existence of images yields all +that is required. The state of mind in which we merely consider a +proposition, without believing or disbelieving it, will then +appear as a sophisticated product, the result of some rival force +adding to the image-proposition a positive feeling which may be +called suspense or non-belief--a feeling which may be compared to +that of a man about to run a race waiting for the signal. Such a +man, though not moving, is in a very different condition from +that of a man quietly at rest And so the man who is considering a +proposition without believing it will be in a state of tension, +restraining the natural tendency to act upon the proposition +which he would display if nothing interfered. In this view belief +primarily consists merely in the existence of the appropriate +images without any counteracting forces. + +There is a great deal to be said in favour of this view, and I +have some hesitation in regarding it as inadequate. It fits +admirably with the phenomena of dreams and hallucinatory images, +and it is recommended by the way in which it accords with mental +development. Doubt, suspense of judgment and disbelief all seem +later and more complex than a wholly unreflecting assent. Belief +as a positive phenomenon, if it exists, may be regarded, in this +view, as a product of doubt, a decision after debate, an +acceptance, not merely of THIS, but of THIS-RATHER-THAN-THAT. It +is not difficult to suppose that a dog has images (possible +olfactory) of his absent master, or of the rabbit that he dreams +of hunting. But it is very difficult to suppose that he can +entertain mere imagination-images to which no assent is given. + +I think it must be conceded that a mere image, without the +addition of any positive feeling that could be called "belief," +is apt to have a certain dynamic power, and in this sense an +uncombated image has the force of a belief. But although this may +be true, it accounts only for some of the simplest phenomena in +the region of belief. It will not, for example, explain memory. +Nor can it explain beliefs which do not issue in any proximate +action, such as those of mathematics. I conclude, therefore, that +there must be belief-feelings of the same order as those of doubt +or disbelief, although phenomena closely analogous to those of +belief can be produced by mere uncontradicted images. + +(3) I come now to the view of belief which I wish to advocate. It +seems to me that there are at least three kinds of belief, namely +memory, expectation and bare assent. Each of these I regard as +constituted by a certain feeling or complex of sensations, +attached to the content believed. We may illustrate by an +example. Suppose I am believing, by means of images, not words, +that it will rain. We have here two interrelated elements, namely +the content and the expectation. The content consists of images +of (say) the visual appearance of rain, the feeling of wetness, +the patter of drops, interrelated, roughly, as the sensations +would be if it were raining. Thus the content is a complex fact +composed of images. Exactly the same content may enter into the +memory "it was raining" or the assent "rain occurs." The +difference of these cases from each other and from expectation +does not lie in the content. The difference lies in the nature of +the belief-feeling. I, personally, do not profess to be able to +analyse the sensations constituting respectively memory, +expectation and assent; but I am not prepared to say that they +cannot be analysed. There may be other belief-feelings, for +example in disjunction and implication; also a disbelief-feeling. + +It is not enough that the content and the belief-feeling should +coexist: it is necessary that there should be a specific relation +between them, of the sort expressed by saying that the content is +what is believed. If this were not obvious, it could be made +plain by an argument. If the mere co-existence of the content and +the belief-feeling sufficed, whenever we were having (say) a +memory-feeling we should be remembering any proposition which +came into our minds at the same time. But this is not the case, +since we may simultaneously remember one proposition and merely +consider another. + +We may sum up our analysis, in the case of bare assent to a +proposition not expressed in words, as follows: (a) We have a +proposition, consisting of interrelated images, and possibly +partly of sensations; (b) we have the feeling of assent, which is +presumably a complex sensation demanding analysis; (c) we have a +relation, actually subsisting, between the assent and the +proposition, such as is expressed by saying that the proposition +in question is what is assented to. For other forms of +belief-feeling or of content, we have only to make the necessary +substitutions in this analysis. + +If we are right in our analysis of belief, the use of words in +expressing beliefs is apt to be misleading. There is no way of +distinguishing, in words, between a memory and an assent to a +proposition about the past: "I ate my breakfast" and "Caesar +conquered Gaul" have the same verbal form, though (assuming that +I remember my breakfast) they express occurrences which are +psychologically very different. In the one case, what happens is +that I remember the content "eating my breakfast"; in the other +case, I assent to the content "Caesar's conquest of Gaul +occurred." In the latter case, but not in the former, the +pastness is part of the content believed. Exactly similar remarks +apply to the difference between expectation, such as we have when +waiting for the thunder after a flash of lightning, and assent to +a proposition about the future, such as we have in all the usual +cases of inferential knowledge as to what will occur. I think +this difficulty in the verbal expression of the temporal aspects +of beliefs is one among the causes which have hampered philosophy +in the consideration of time. + +The view of belief which I have been advocating contains little +that is novel except the distinction of kinds of belief-feeling~ +such as memory and expectation. Thus James says: "Everyone knows +the difference between imagining a thing and believing in its +existence, between supposing a proposition and acquiescing in its +truth...IN ITS INNER NATURE, BELIEF, OR THE SENSE OF REALITY, IS +A SORT OF FEELING MORE ALLIED TO THE EMOTIONS THAN. TO ANYTHING +ELSE" ("Psychology," vol. ii, p. 283. James's italics). He +proceeds to point out that drunkenness, and, still more, nitrous- +oxide intoxication, will heighten the sense of belief: in the +latter case, he says, a man's very soul may sweat with +conviction, and he be all the time utterly unable to say what he +is convinced of. It would seem that, in such cases, the feeling +of belief exists unattached, without its usual relation to a +content believed, just as the feeling of familiarity may +sometimes occur without being related to any definite familiar +object. The feeling of belief, when it occurs in this separated +heightened form, generally leads us to look for a content to +which to attach it. Much of what passes for revelation or mystic +insight probably comes in this way: the belief-feeling, in +abnormal strength, attaches itself, more or less accidentally, to +some content which we happen to think of at the appropriate +moment. But this is only a speculation, upon which I do not wish +to lay too much stress. + + + +LECTURE XIII. TRUTH AND FALSEHOOD + +The definition of truth and falsehood, which is our topic to-day, +lies strictly outside our general subject, namely the analysis of +mind. From the psychological standpoint, there may be different +kinds of belief, and different degrees of certainty, but there +cannot be any purely psychological means of distinguishing +between true and false beliefs. A belief is rendered true or +false by relation to a fact, which may lie outside the experience +of the person entertaining the belief. Truth and falsehood, +except in the case of beliefs about our own minds, depend upon +the relations of mental occurrences to outside things, and thus +take us beyond the analysis of mental occurrences as they are in +themselves. Nevertheless, we can hardly avoid the consideration +of truth and falsehood. We wish to believe that our beliefs, +sometimes at least, yield KNOWLEDGE, and a belief does not yield +knowledge unless it is true. The question whether our minds are +instruments of knowledge, and, if so, in what sense, is so vital +that any suggested analysis of mind must be examined in relation +to this question. To ignore this question would be like +describing a chronometer without regard to its accuracy as a +time-keeper, or a thermometer without mentioning the fact that it +measures temperature. + +Many difficult questions arise in connection with knowledge. It +is difficult to define knowledge, difficult to decide whether we +have any knowledge, and difficult, even if it is conceded that we +sometimes have knowledge to discover whether we can ever know +that we have knowledge in this or that particular case. I shall +divide the discussion into four parts: + +I. We may regard knowledge, from a behaviourist standpoint, as +exhibited in a certain kind of response to the environment. This +response must have some characteristics which it shares with +those of scientific instruments, but must also have others that +are peculiar to knowledge. We shall find that this point of view +is important, but not exhaustive of the nature of knowledge. + +II. We may hold that the beliefs that constitute knowledge are +distinguished from such as are erroneous or uncertain by +properties which are intrinsic either to single beliefs or to +systems of beliefs, being in either case discoverable without +reference to outside fact. Views of this kind have been widely +held among philosophers, but we shall find no reason to accept +them. + +III. We believe that some beliefs are true, and some false. This +raises the problem of VERIFIABILITY: are there any circumstances +which can justifiably give us an unusual degree of certainty that +such and such a belief is true? It is obvious that there are +circumstances which in fact cause a certainty of this sort, and +we wish to learn what we can from examining these circumstances. + +IV. Finally, there is the formal problem of defining truth and +falsehood, and deriving the objective reference of a proposition +from the meanings of its component words. + +We will consider these four problems in succession. + +I. We may regard a human being as an instrument, which makes +various responses to various stimuli. If we observe these +responses from outside, we shall regard them as showing knowledge +when they display two characteristics, ACCURACY and +APPROPRIATENESS. These two are quite distinct, and even sometimes +incompatible. If I am being pursued by a tiger, accuracy is +furthered by turning round to look at him, but appropriateness by +running away without making any search for further knowledge of +the beast. I shall return to the question of appropriateness +later; for the present it is accuracy that I wish to consider. + +When we are viewing a man from the outside, it is not his +beliefs, but his bodily movements, that we can observe. His +knowledge must be inferred from his bodily movements, and +especially from what he says and writes. For the present we may +ignore beliefs, and regard a man's knowledge as actually +consisting in what he says and does. That is to say, we will +construct, as far as possible, a purely behaviouristic account of +truth and falsehood. + +If you ask a boy "What is twice two?" and the boy says "four," +you take that as prima facie evidence that the boy knows what +twice two is. But if you go on to ask what is twice three, twice +four, twice five, and so on, and the boy always answers "four," +you come to the conclusion that he knows nothing about it. +Exactly similar remarks apply to scientific instruments. I know a +certain weather-cock which has the pessimistic habit of always +pointing to the north-east. If you were to see it first on a cold +March day, you would think it an excellent weather-cock; but with +the first warm day of spring your confidence would be shaken. The +boy and the weather-cock have the same defect: they do not vary +their response when the stimulus is varied. A good instrument, or +a person with much knowledge, will give different responses to +stimuli which differ in relevant ways. This is the first point in +defining accuracy of response. + +We will now assume another boy, who also, when you first question +him, asserts that twice two is four. But with this boy, instead +of asking him different questions, you make a practice of asking +him the same question every day at breakfast. You find that he +says five, or six, or seven, or any other number at random, and +you conclude that he also does not know what twice two is, though +by good luck he answered right the first time. This boy is like a +weather-cock which, instead of being stuck fast, is always going +round and round, changing without any change of wind. This boy +and weather-cock have the opposite defect to that of the previous +pair: they give different responses to stimuli which do not +differ in any relevant way. + +In connection with vagueness in memory, we already had occasion +to consider the definition of accuracy. Omitting some of the +niceties of our previous discussion, we may say that an +instrument is ACCURATE when it avoids the defects of the two boys +and weather-cocks, that is to say, when-- + +(a) It gives different responses to stimuli which differ in +relevant ways; + +(b) It gives the same response to stimuli which do not differ in +relevant ways. + +What are relevant ways depends upon the nature and purpose of the +instrument. In the case of a weather-cock, the direction of the +wind is relevant, but not its strength; in the case of the boy, +the meaning of the words of your question is relevant, but not +the loudness of your voice, or whether you are his father or his +schoolmaster If, however, you were a boy of his own age, that +would be relevant, and the appropriate response would be +different. + +It is clear that knowledge is displayed by accuracy of response +to certain kinds of stimuli, e.g. examinations. Can we say, +conversely, that it consists wholly of such accuracy of response? +I do not think we can; but we can go a certain distance in this +direction. For this purpose we must define more carefully the +kind of accuracy and the kind of response that may be expected +where there is knowledge. + +From our present point of view, it is difficult to exclude +perception from knowledge; at any rate, knowledge is displayed by +actions based upon perception. A bird flying among trees avoids +bumping into their branches; its avoidance is a response to +visual sensations. This response has the characteristic of +accuracy, in the main, and leads us to say that the bird "knows," +by sight, what objects are in its neighbourhood. For a +behaviourist, this must certainly count as knowledge, however it +may be viewed by analytic psychology. In this case, what is +known, roughly, is the stimulus; but in more advanced knowledge +the stimulus and what is known become different. For example, you +look in your calendar and find that Easter will be early next +year. Here the stimulus is the calendar, whereas the response +concerns the future. Even this can be paralleled among +instruments: the behaviour of the barometer has a present +stimulus but foretells the future, so that the barometer might be +said, in a sense, to know the future. However that may be, the +point I am emphasizing as regards knowledge is that what is known +may be quite different from the stimulus, and no part of the +cause of the knowledge-response. It is only in sense-knowledge +that the stimulus and what is known are, with qualifications, +identifiable. In knowledge of the future, it is obvious that they +are totally distinct, since otherwise the response would precede +the stimulus. In abstract knowledge also they are distinct, since +abstract facts have no date. In knowledge of the past there are +complications, which we must briefly examine. + +Every form of memory will be, from our present point of view, in +one sense a delayed response. But this phrase does not quite +clearly express what is meant. If you light a fuse and connect it +with a heap of dynamite, the explosion of the dynamite may be +spoken of, in a sense, as a delayed response to your lighting of +the fuse. But that only means that it is a somewhat late portion +of a continuous process of which the earlier parts have less +emotional interest. This is not the case with habit. A display of +habit has two sorts of causes: (a) the past occurrences which +generated the habit, (b) the present occurrence which brings it +into play. When you drop a weight on your toe, and say what you +do say, the habit has been caused by imitation of your +undesirable associates, whereas it is brought into play by the +dropping of the weight. The great bulk of our knowledge is a +habit in this sense: whenever I am asked when I was born, I reply +correctly by mere habit. It would hardly be correct to say that +getting born was the stimulus, and that my reply is a delayed +response But in cases of memory this way of speaking would have +an element of truth. In an habitual memory, the event remembered +was clearly an essential part of the stimulus to the formation of +the habit. The present stimulus which brings the habit into play +produces a different response from that which it would produce if +the habit did not exist. Therefore the habit enters into the +causation of the response, and so do, at one remove, the causes +of the habit. It follows that an event remembered is an essential +part of the causes of our remembering. + +In spite, however, of the fact that what is known is SOMETIMES an +indispensable part of the cause of the knowledge, this +circumstance is, I think, irrelevant to the general question with +which we are concerned, namely What sort of response to what sort +of stimulus can be regarded as displaying knowledge? There is one +characteristic which the response must have, namely, it must +consist of voluntary movements. The need of this characteristic +is connected with the characteristic of APPROPRIATENESS, which I +do not wish to consider as yet. For the present I wish only to +obtain a clearer idea of the sort of ACCURACY that a +knowledge-response must have. It is clear from many instances +that accuracy, in other cases, may be purely mechanical. The most +complete form of accuracy consists in giving correct answers to +questions, an achievement in which calculating machines far +surpass human beings. In asking a question of a calculating +machine, you must use its language: you must not address it in +English, any more than you would address an Englishman in +Chinese. But if you address it in the language it understands. it +will tell you what is 34521 times 19987, without a moment's +hesitation or a hint of inaccuracy. We do not say the machine +KNOWS the answer, because it has no purpose of its own in giving +the answer: it does not wish to impress you with its cleverness, +or feel proud of being such a good machine. But as far as mere +accuracy goes, the machine leaves nothing to be desired. + +Accuracy of response is a perfectly clear notion in the case of +answers to questions, but in other cases it is much more obscure. +We may say generally that an object whether animate or inanimate, +is "sensitive" to a certain feature of the environment if it +behaves differently according to the presence or absence of that +feature. Thus iron is sensitive to anything magnetic. But +sensitiveness does not constitute knowledge, and knowledge of a +fact which is not sensible is not sensitiveness to that fact, as +we have seen in distinguishing the fact known from the stimulus. +As soon as we pass beyond the simple case of question and answer, +the definition of knowledge by means of behaviour demands the +consideration of purpose. A carrier pigeon flies home, and so we +say it "knows" the way. But if it merely flew to some place at +random, we should not say that it "knew" the way to that place, +any more than a stone rolling down hill knows the way to the +valley. + +On the features which distinguish knowledge from accuracy of +response in general, not much can be said from a behaviourist +point of view without referring to purpose. But the necessity of +SOMETHING besides accuracy of response may be brought out by the +following consideration: Suppose two persons, of whom one +believed whatever the other disbelieved, and disbelieved whatever +the other believed. So far as accuracy and sensitiveness of +response alone are concerned, there would be nothing to choose +between these two persons. A thermometer which went down for warm +weather and up for cold might be just as accurate as the usual +kind; and a person who always believes falsely is just as +sensitive an instrument as a person who always believes truly. +The observable and practical difference between them would be +that the one who always believed falsely would quickly come to a +bad end. This illustrates once more that accuracy of response to +stimulus does not alone show knowledge, but must be reinforced by +appropriateness, i.e. suitability for realizing one's purpose. +This applies even in the apparently simple case of answering +questions: if the purpose of the answers is to deceive, their +falsehood, not their truth, will be evidence of knowledge. The +proportion of the combination of appropriateness with accuracy in +the definition of knowledge is difficult; it seems that both +enter in, but that appropriateness is only required as regards +the general type of response, not as regards each individual +instance. + +II. I have so far assumed as unquestionable the view that the +truth or falsehood of a belief consists in a relation to a +certain fact, namely the objective of the belief. This view has, +however, been often questioned. Philosophers have sought some +intrinsic criterion by which true and false beliefs could be +distinguished.* I am afraid their chief reason for this search +has been the wish to feel more certainty than seems otherwise +possible as to what is true and what is false. If we could +discover the truth of a belief by examining its intrinsic +characteristics, or those of some collection of beliefs of which +it forms part, the pursuit of truth, it is thought, would be a +less arduous business than it otherwise appears to be. But the +attempts which have been made in this direction are not +encouraging. I will take two criteria which have been suggested, +namely, (1) self-evidence, (2) mutual coherence. If we can show +that these are inadequate, we may feel fairly certain that no +intrinsic criterion hitherto suggested will suffice to +distinguish true from false beliefs. + +* The view that such a criterion exists is generally held by +those whose views are in any degree derived from Hegel. It may be +illustrated by the following passage from Lossky, "The Intuitive +Basis of Knowledge" (Macmillan, 1919), p. 268: "Strictly +speaking, a false judgment is not a judgment at all. The +predicate does not follow from the subject S alone, but from the +subject plus a certain addition C, WHICH IN NO SENSE BELONGS TO +THE CONTENT OF THE JUDGMENT. What takes place may be a process of +association of ideas, of imagining, or the like, but is not a +process of judging. An experienced psychologist will be able by +careful observation to detect that in this process there is +wanting just the specific element of the objective dependence of +the predicate upon the subject which is characteristic of a +judgment. It must be admitted, however, that an exceptional power +of observation is needed in order to distinguish, by means of +introspection, mere combination of ideas from judgments." + + +(1) Self-evidence.--Some of our beliefs seem to be peculiarly +indubitable. One might instance the belief that two and two are +four, that two things cannot be in the same place at the same +time, nor one thing in two places, or that a particular buttercup +that we are seeing is yellow. The suggestion we are to examine is +that such: beliefs have some recognizable quality which secures +their truth, and the truth of whatever is deduced from them +according to self-evident principles of inference. This theory is +set forth, for example, by Meinong in his book, "Ueber die +Erfahrungsgrundlagen unseres Wissens." + +If this theory is to be logically tenable, self-evidence must not +consist merely in the fact that we believe a proposition. We +believe that our beliefs are sometimes erroneous, and we wish to +be able to select a certain class of beliefs which are never +erroneous. If we are to do this, it must be by some mark which +belongs only to certain beliefs, not to all; and among those to +which it belongs there must be none that are mutually +inconsistent. If, for example, two propositions p and q were +self-evident, and it were also self-evident that p and q could +not both be true, that would condemn self-evidence as a guarantee +of truth. Again, self-evidence must not be the same thing as the +absence of doubt or the presence of complete certainty. If we are +completely certain of a proposition, we do not seek a ground to +support our belief. If self-evidence is alleged as a ground of +belief, that implies that doubt has crept in, and that our +self-evident proposition has not wholly resisted the assaults of +scepticism. To say that any given person believes some things so +firmly that he cannot be made to doubt them is no doubt true. +Such beliefs he will be willing to use as premisses in reasoning, +and to him personally they will seem to have as much evidence as +any belief can need. But among the propositions which one man +finds indubitable there will be some that another man finds it +quite possible to doubt. It used to seem self-evident that there +could not be men at the Antipodes, because they would fall off, +or at best grow giddy from standing on their heads. But New +Zealanders find the falsehood of this proposition self-evident. +Therefore, if self-evidence is a guarantee of truth, our +ancestors must have been mistaken in thinking their beliefs about +the Antipodes self-evident. Meinong meets this difficulty by +saying that some beliefs are falsely thought to be self-evident, +but in the case of others it is self-evident that they are +self-evident, and these are wholly reliable. Even this, however, +does not remove the practical risk of error, since we may +mistakenly believe it self-evident that a certain belief is +self-evident. To remove all risk of error, we shall need an +endless series of more and more complicated self-evident beliefs, +which cannot possibly be realized in practice. It would seem, +therefore, that self-evidence is useless as a practical criterion +for insuring truth. + +The same result follows from examining instances. If we take the +four instances mentioned at the beginning of this discussion, we +shall find that three of them are logical, while the fourth is a +judgment of perception. The proposition that two and two are four +follows by purely logical deduction from definitions: that means +that its truth results, not from the properties of objects, but +from the meanings of symbols. Now symbols, in mathematics, mean +what we choose; thus the feeling of self-evidence, in this case, +seems explicable by the fact that the whole matter is within our +control. I do not wish to assert that this is the whole truth +about mathematical propositions, for the question is complicated, +and I do not know what the whole truth is. But I do wish to +suggest that the feeling of self-evidence in mathematical +propositions has to do with the fact that they are concerned with +the meanings of symbols, not with properties of the world such as +external observation might reveal. + +Similar considerations apply to the impossibility of a thing +being in two places at once, or of two things being in one place +at the same time. These impossibilities result logically, if I am +not mistaken, from the definitions of one thing and one place. +That is to say, they are not laws of physics, but only part of +the intellectual apparatus which we have manufactured for +manipulating physics. Their self-evidence, if this is so, lies +merely in the fact that they represent our decision as to the use +of words, not a property of physical objects. + +Judgments of perception, such as "this buttercup is yellow," are +in a quite different position from judgments of logic, and their +self-evidence must have a different explanation. In order to +arrive at the nucleus of such a judgment, we will eliminate, as +far as possible, the use of words which take us beyond the +present fact, such as "buttercup" and "yellow." The simplest kind +of judgment underlying the perception that a buttercup is yellow +would seem to be the perception of similarity in two colours seen +simultaneously. Suppose we are seeing two buttercups, and we +perceive that their colours are similar. This similarity is a +physical fact, not a matter of symbols or words; and it certainly +seems to be indubitable in a way that many judgments are not. + +The first thing to observe, in regard to such judgments, is that +as they stand they are vague. The word "similar" is a vague word, +since there are degrees of similarity, and no one can say where +similarity ends and dissimilarity begins. It is unlikely that our +two buttercups have EXACTLY the same colour, and if we judged +that they had we should have passed altogether outside the region +of self-evidence. To make our proposition more precise, let us +suppose that we are also seeing a red rose at the same time. Then +we may judge that the colours of the buttercups are more similar +to each other than to the colour of the rose. This judgment seems +more complicated, but has certainly gained in precision. Even +now, however, it falls short of complete precision, since +similarity is not prima facie measurable, and it would require +much discussion to decide what we mean by greater or less +similarity. To this process of the pursuit of precision there is +strictly no limit. + +The next thing to observe (although I do not personally doubt +that most of our judgments of perception are true) is that it is +very difficult to define any class of such judgments which can be +known, by its intrinsic quality, to be always exempt from error. +Most of our judgments of perception involve correlations, as when +we judge that a certain noise is that of a passing cart. Such +judgments are all obviously liable to error, since there is no +correlation of which we have a right to be certain that it is +invariable. Other judgments of perception are derived from +recognition, as when we say "this is a buttercup," or even merely +"this is yellow." All such judgments entail some risk of error, +though sometimes perhaps a very small one; some flowers that look +like buttercups are marigolds, and colours that some would call +yellow others might call orange. Our subjective certainty is +usually a result of habit, and may lead us astray in +circumstances which are unusual in ways of which we are unaware. + +For such reasons, no form of self-evidence seems to afford an +absolute criterion of truth. Nevertheless, it is perhaps true +that judgments having a high degree of subjective certainty are +more apt to be true than other judgments. But if this be the +case, it is a result to be demonstrated, not a premiss from which +to start in defining truth and falsehood. As an initial +guarantee, therefore, neither self-evidence nor subjective +certainty can be accepted as adequate. + +(2) Coherence.--Coherence as the definition of truth is advocated +by idealists, particularly by those who in the main follow Hegel. +It is set forth ably in Mr. Joachim's book, "The Nature of Truth" +(Oxford, 1906). According to this view, any set of propositions +other than the whole of truth can be condemned on purely logical +grounds, as internally inconsistent; a single proposition, if it +is what we should ordinarily call false, contradicts itself +irremediably, while if it is what we should ordinarily call true, +it has implications which compel us to admit other propositions, +which in turn lead to others, and so on, until we find ourselves +committed to the whole of truth. One might illustrate by a very +simple example: if I say "so-and-so is a married man," that is +not a self-subsistent proposition. We cannot logically conceive +of a universe in which this proposition constituted the whole of +truth. There must be also someone who is a married woman, and who +is married to the particular man in question. The view we are +considering regards everything that can be said about any one +object as relative in the same sort of way as "so-and-so is a +married man." But everything, according to this view, is +relative, not to one or two other things, but to all other +things, so that from one bit of truth the whole can be inferred. + +The fundamental objection to this view is logical, and consists +in a criticism of its doctrine as to relations. I shall omit this +line of argument, which I have developed elsewhere.* For the +moment I will content myself with saying that the powers of logic +seem to me very much less than this theory supposes. If it were +taken seriously, its advocates ought to profess that any one +truth is logically inferable from any other, and that, for +example, the fact that Caesar conquered Gaul, if adequately +considered, would enable us to discover what the weather will be +to-morrow. No such claim is put forward in practice, and the +necessity of empirical observation is not denied; but according +to the theory it ought to be. + +* In the article on "The Monistic Theory of Truth" in +"Philosophical Essays" (Longmans, 1910), reprinted from the +"Proceedings of the Aristotelian Society," 1906-7. + + +Another objection is that no endeavour is made to show that we +cannot form a consistent whole composed partly or wholly of false +propositions, as in a novel. Leibniz's conception of many +possible worlds seems to accord much better with modern logic and +with the practical empiricism which is now universal. The attempt +to deduce the world by pure thought is attractive, and in former +times was largely supposed capable of success. But nowadays most +men admit that beliefs must be tested by observation, and not +merely by the fact that they harmonize with other beliefs. A +consistent fair-ytale is a different thing from truth, however +elaborate it may be. But to pursue this topic would lead us into +difficult technicalities; I shall therefore assume, without +further argument, that coherence is not sufficient as a +definition of truth. + +III. Many difficult problems arise as regards the verifiability +of beliefs. We believe various things, and while we believe them +we think we know them. But it sometimes turns out that we were +mistaken, or at any rate we come to think we were. We must be +mistaken either in our previous opinion or in our subsequent +recantation; therefore our beliefs are not all correct, and there +are cases of belief which are not cases of knowledge. The +question of verifiability is in essence this: can we discover any +set of beliefs which are never mistaken or any test which, when +applicable, will always enable us to discriminate between true +and false beliefs? Put thus broadly and abstractly, the answer +must be negative. There is no way hitherto discovered of wholly +eliminating the risk of error, and no infallible criterion. If we +believe we have found a criterion, this belief itself may be +mistaken; we should be begging the question if we tried to test +the criterion by applying the criterion to itself. + +But although the notion of an absolute criterion is chimerical, +there may be relative criteria, which increase the probability of +truth. Common sense and science hold that there are. Let us see +what they have to say. + +One of the plainest cases of verification, perhaps ultimately the +only case, consists in the happening of something expected. You +go to the station believing that there will be a train at a +certain time; you find the train, you get into it, and it starts +at the expected time This constitutes verification, and is a +perfectly definite experience. It is, in a sense, the converse of +memory instead of having first sensations and then images +accompanied by belief, we have first images accompanied by belief +and then sensations. Apart from differences as to the time-order +and the accompanying feelings, the relation between image and +sensation is closely similar in the two cases of memory and +expectation; it is a relation of similarity, with difference as +to causal efficacy--broadly, the image has the psychological but +not the physical effects that the sensation would have. When an +image accompanied by an expectation-belief is thus succeeded by a +sensation which is the "meaning" of the image, we say that the +expectation-belief has been verified. The experience of +verification in this sense is exceedingly familiar; it happens +every time that accustomed activities have results that are not +surprising, in eating and walking and talking and all our daily +pursuits. + +But although the experience in question is common, it is not +wholly easy to give a theoretical account of it. How do we know +that the sensation resembles the previous image? Does the image +persist in presence of the sensation, so that we can compare the +two? And even if SOME image does persist, how do we know that it +is the previous image unchanged? It does not seem as if this line +of inquiry offered much hope of a successful issue. It is better, +I think, to take a more external and causal view of the relation +of expectation to expected occurrence. If the occurrence, when it +comes, gives us the feeling of expectedness, and if the +expectation, beforehand, enabled us to act in a way which proves +appropriate to the occurrence, that must be held to constitute +the maximum of verification. We have first an expectation, then a +sensation with the feeling of expectedness related to memory of +the expectation. This whole experience, when it occurs, may be +defined as verification, and as constituting the truth of the +expectation. Appropriate action, during the period of +expectation, may be regarded as additional verification, but is +not essential. The whole process may be illustrated by looking up +a familiar quotation, finding it in the expected words, and in +the expected part of the book. In this case we can strengthen the +verification by writing down beforehand the words which we expect +to find. + +I think all verification is ultimately of the above sort. We +verify a scientific hypothesis indirectly, by deducing +consequences as to the future, which subsequent experience +confirms. If somebody were to doubt whether Caesar had crossed +the Rubicon, verification could only be obtained from the future. +We could proceed to display manuscripts to our historical +sceptic, in which it was said that Caesar had behaved in this +way. We could advance arguments, verifiable by future experience, +to prove the antiquity of the manuscript from its texture, +colour, etc. We could find inscriptions agreeing with the +historian on other points, and tending to show his general +accuracy. The causal laws which our arguments would assume could +be verified by the future occurrence of events inferred by means +of them. The existence and persistence of causal laws, it is +true, must be regarded as a fortunate accident, and how long it +will continue we cannot tell. Meanwhile verification remains +often practically possible. And since it is sometimes possible, +we can gradually discover what kinds of beliefs tend to be +verified by experience, and what kinds tend to be falsified; to +the former kinds we give an increased degree of assent, to the +latter kinds a diminished degree. The process is not absolute or +infallible, but it has been found capable of sifting beliefs and +building up science. It affords no theoretical refutation of the +sceptic, whose position must remain logically unassailable; but +if complete scepticism is rejected, it gives the practical method +by which the system of our beliefs grows gradually towards the +unattainable ideal of impeccable knowledge. + +IV. I come now to the purely formal definition of the truth or +falsehood of a belief. For this definition it is necessary first +of all to consider the derivation of the objective reference of a +proposition from the meanings of its component words or images. + +Just as a word has meaning, so a proposition has an objective +reference. The objective reference of a proposition is a function +(in the mathematical sense) of the meanings of its component +words. But the objective reference differs from the meaning of a +word through the duality of truth and falsehood. You may believe +the proposition "to-day is Tuesday" both when, in fact, to-day is +Tuesday, and when to-day is not Tuesday. If to-day is not +Tuesday, this fact is the objective of your belief that to-day is +Tuesday. But obviously the relation of your belief to the fact is +different in this case from what it is in the case when to-day is +Tuesday. We may say, metaphorically, that when to-day is Tuesday, +your belief that it is Tuesday points TOWARDS the fact, whereas +when to-day is not Tuesday your belief points AWAY FROM the fact. +Thus the objective reference of a belief is not determined by the +fact alone, but by the direction of the belief towards or away +from the fact.* If, on a Tuesday, one man believes that it is +Tuesday while another believes that it is not Tuesday, their +beliefs have the same objective, namely the fact that it is +Tuesday but the true belief points towards the fact while the +false one points away from it. Thus, in order to define the +reference of a proposition we have to take account not only of +the objective, but also of the direction of pointing, towards the +objective in the case of a true proposition and away from it in +the case of a false one. + +* I owe this way of looking at the matter to my friend Ludwig +Wittgenstein. + + +This mode of stating the nature of the objective reference of a +proposition is necessitated by the circumstance that there are +true and false propositions, but not true and false facts. If +to-day is Tuesday, there is not a false objective "to-day is not +Tuesday," which could be the objective of the false belief +"to-day is not Tuesday." This is the reason why two beliefs which +are each other's contradictories have the same objective. There +is, however, a practical inconvenience, namely that we cannot +determine the objective reference of a proposition, according to +this definition, unless we know whether the proposition is true +or false. To avoid this inconvenience, it is better to adopt a +slightly different phraseology, and say: The "meaning" of the +proposition "to-day is Tuesday" consists in pointing to the fact +"to-day is Tuesday" if that is a fact, or away from the fact +"to-day is not Tuesday" if that is a fact. The "meaning" of the +proposition "to-day is not Tuesday" will be exactly the opposite. +By this hypothetical form we are able to speak of the meaning of +a proposition without knowing whether it is true or false. +According to this definition, we know the meaning of a +proposition when we know what would make it true and what would +make it false, even if we do not know whether it is in fact true +or false. + +The meaning of a proposition is derivative from the meanings of +its constituent words. Propositions occur in pairs, distinguished +(in simple cases) by the absence or presence of the word "not." +Two such propositions have the same objective, but opposite +meanings: when one is true, the other is false, and when one is +false, the other is true. + +The purely formal definition of truth and falsehood offers little +difficulty. What is required is a formal expression of the fact +that a proposition is true when it points towards its objective, +and false when it points away from it, In very simple cases we +can give a very simple account of this: we can say that true +propositions actually resemble their objectives in a way in which +false propositions do not. But for this purpose it is necessary +to revert to image-propositions instead of word-propositions. Let +us take again the illustration of a memory-image of a familiar +room, and let us suppose that in the image the window is to the +left of the door. If in fact the window is to the left of the +door, there is a correspondence between the image and the +objective; there is the same relation between the window and the +door as between the images of them. The image-memory consists of +the image of the window to the left of the image of the door. +When this is true, the very same relation relates the terms of +the objective (namely the window and the door) as relates the +images which mean them. In this case the correspondence which +constitutes truth is very simple. + +In the case we have just been considering the objective consists +of two parts with a certain relation (that of left-to-right), and +the proposition consists of images of these parts with the very +same relation. The same proposition, if it were false, would have +a less simple formal relation to its objective. If the +image-proposition consists of an image of the window to the left +of an image of the door, while in fact the window is not to the +left of the door, the proposition does not result from the +objective by the mere substitution of images for their +prototypes. Thus in this unusually simple case we can say that a +true proposition "corresponds" to its objective in a formal sense +in which a false proposition does not. Perhaps it may be possible +to modify this notion of formal correspondence in such a way as +to be more widely applicable, but if so, the modifications +required will be by no means slight. The reasons for this must +now be considered. + +To begin with, the simple type of correspondence we have been +exhibiting can hardly occur when words are substituted for +images, because, in word-propositions, relations are usually +expressed by words, which are not themselves relations. Take such +a proposition as "Socrates precedes Plato." Here the word +"precedes" is just as solid as the words "Socrates" and "Plato"; +it MEANS a relation, but is not a relation. Thus the objective +which makes our proposition true consists of TWO terms with a +relation between them, whereas our proposition consists of THREE +terms with a relation of order between them. Of course, it would +be perfectly possible, theoretically, to indicate a few chosen +relations, not by words, but by relations between the other +words. "Socrates-Plato" might be used to mean "Socrates precedes +Plato"; "PlaSocrates-to" might be used to mean "Plato was born +before Socrates and died after him"; and so on. But the +possibilities of such a method would be very limited. For aught I +know, there may be languages that use it, but they are not among +the languages with which I am acquainted. And in any case, in +view of the multiplicity of relations that we wish to express, no +language could advance far without words for relations. But as +soon as we have words for relations, word-propositions have +necessarily more terms than the facts to which they refer, and +cannot therefore correspond so simply with their objectives as +some image-propositions can. + +The consideration of negative propositions and negative facts +introduces further complications. An image-proposition is +necessarily positive: we can image the window to the left of the +door, or to the right of the door, but we can form no image of +the bare negative "the window not to the left of the door." We +can DISBELIEVE the image-proposition expressed by "the window to +the left of the door," and our disbelief will be true if the +window is not to the left of the door. But we can form no image +of the fact that the window is not to the left of the door. +Attempts have often been made to deny such negative facts, but, +for reasons which I have given elsewhere,* I believe these +attempts to be mistaken, and I shall assume that there are +negative facts. + +* "Monist," January, 1919, p. 42 ff. + + +Word-propositions, like image-propositions, are always positive +facts. The fact that Socrates precedes Plato is symbolized in +English by the fact that the word "precedes" occurs between the +words "Socrates" and "Plato." But we cannot symbolize the fact +that Plato does not precede Socrates by not putting the word +"precedes" between "Plato" and "Socrates." A negative fact is not +sensible, and language, being intended for communication, has to +be sensible. Therefore we symbolize the fact that Plato does not +precede Socrates by putting the words "does not precede" between +"Plato" and "Socrates." We thus obtain a series of words which is +just as positive a fact as the series "Socrates precedes Plato." +The propositions asserting negative facts are themselves positive +facts; they are merely different positive facts from those +asserting positive facts. + +We have thus, as regards the opposition of positive and negative, +three different sorts of duality, according as we are dealing +with facts, image-propositions, or word-propositions. We have, +namely: + +(1) Positive and negative facts; + +(2) Image-propositions, which may be believed or disbelieved, but +do not allow any duality of content corresponding to positive and +negative facts; + +(3) Word-propositions, which are always positive facts, but are +of two kinds: one verified by a positive objective, the other by +a negative objective. + +Owing to these complications, the simplest type of correspondence +is impossible when either negative facts or negative propositions +are involved. + +Even when we confine ourselves to relations between two terms +which are both imaged, it may be impossible to form an +image-proposition in which the relation of the terms is +represented by the same relation of the images. Suppose we say +"Caesar was 2,000 years before Foch," we express a certain +temporal relation between Caesar and Foch; but we cannot allow +2,000 years to elapse between our image of Caesar and our image +of Foch. This is perhaps not a fair example, since "2,000 years +before" is not a direct relation. But take a case where the +relation is direct, say, "the sun is brighter than the moon." We +can form visual images of sunshine and moonshine, and it may +happen that our image of the sunshine is the brighter of the two, +but this is by no means either necessary or sufficient. The act +of comparison, implied in our judgment, is something more than +the mere coexistence of two images, one of which is in fact +brighter than the other. It would take us too far from our main +topic if we were to go into the question what actually occurs +when we make this judgment. Enough has been said to show that the +correspondence between the belief and its objective is more +complicated in this case than in that of the window to the left +of the door, and this was all that had to be proved. + +In spite of these complications, the general nature of the formal +correspondence which makes truth is clear from our instances. In +the case of the simpler kind of propositions, namely those that I +call "atomic" propositions, where there is only one word +expressing a relation, the objective which would verify our +proposition, assuming that the word "not" is absent, is obtained +by replacing each word by what it means, the word meaning a +relation being replaced by this relation among the meanings of +the other words. For example, if the proposition is "Socrates +precedes Plato," the objective which verifies it results from +replacing the word "Socrates" by Socrates, the word "Plato" by +Plato, and the word "precedes" by the relation of preceding +between Socrates and Plato. If the result of this process is a +fact, the proposition is true; if not, it is false. When our +proposition is "Socrates does not precede Plato," the conditions +of truth and falsehood are exactly reversed. More complicated +propositions can be dealt with on the same lines. In fact, the +purely formal question, which has occupied us in this last +section, offers no very formidable difficulties. + +I do not believe that the above formal theory is untrue, but I do +believe that it is inadequate. It does not, for example, throw +any light upon our preference for true beliefs rather than false +ones. This preference is only explicable by taking account of the +causal efficacy of beliefs, and of the greater appropriateness of +the responses resulting from true beliefs. But appropriateness +depends upon purpose, and purpose thus becomes a vital part of +theory of knowledge. + + + +LECTURE XIV. EMOTIONS AND WILL + +On the two subjects of the present lecture I have nothing +original to say, and I am treating them only in order to complete +the discussion of my main thesis, namely that all psychic +phenomena are built up out of sensations and images alone. + +Emotions are traditionally regarded by psychologists as a +separate class of mental occurrences: I am, of course, not +concerned to deny the obvious fact that they have characteristics +which make a special investigation of them necessary. What I am +concerned with is the analysis of emotions. It is clear that an +emotion is essentially complex, and we have to inquire whether it +ever contains any non-physiological material not reducible to +sensations and images and their relations. + +Although what specially concerns us is the analysis of emotions, +we shall find that the more important topic is the physiological +causation of emotions. This is a subject upon which much valuable +and exceedingly interesting work has been done, whereas the bare +analysis of emotions has proved somewhat barren. In view of the +fact that we have defined perceptions, sensations, and images by +their physiological causation, it is evident that our problem of +the analysis of the emotions is bound up with the problem of +their physiological causation. + +Modern views on the causation of emotions begin with what is +called the James-Lange theory. James states this view in the +following terms ("Psychology," vol. ii, p. 449): + +"Our natural way of thinking about these coarser emotions, grief, +fear, rage, love, is that the mental perception of some fact +excites the mental affection called the emotion, and that this +latter state of mind gives rise to the bodily expression. My +theory, on the contrary, is that THE BODILY CHANGES FOLLOW +DIRECTLY THE PERCEPTION OF THE EXCITING FACT, AND THAT OUR +FEELING OF THE SAME CHANGES AS THEY OCCUR ~IS~ THE EMOTION +(James's italics). Common sense says: we lose our fortune, are +sorry and weep; we meet a bear, are frightened and run; we are +insulted by a rival, are angry and strike. The hypothesis here to +be defended says that this order of sequence is incorrect, that +the one mental state is not immediately induced by the other, +that the bodily manifestations must first be interposed between, +and that the more rational statement is that we feel sorry +because we cry, angry because we strike, afraid because we +tremble, and not that we cry, strike, or tremble, because we are +sorry, angry, or fearful, as the case may be. Without the bodily +states following on the perception, the latter would be purely +cognitive in form, pale, colourless, destitute of emotional +warmth." + +Round this hypothesis a very voluminous literature has grown up. +The history of its victory over earlier criticism, and its +difficulties with the modern experimental work of Sherrington and +Cannon, is well told by James R. Angell in an article called "A +Reconsideration of James's Theory of Emotion in the Light of +Recent Criticisms."* In this article Angell defends James's +theory and to me--though I speak with diffidence on a question as +to which I have little competence--it appears that his defence is +on the whole successful. + +* "Psychological Review," 1916. + + +Sherrington, by experiments on dogs, showed that many of the +usual marks of emotion were present in their behaviour even when, +by severing the spinal cord in the lower cervical region, the +viscera were cut off from all communication with the brain, +except that existing through certain cranial nerves. He mentions +the various signs which "contributed to indicate the existence of +an emotion as lively as the animal had ever shown us before the +spinal operation had been made."* He infers that the +physiological condition of the viscera cannot be the cause of the +emotion displayed under such circumstances, and concludes: "We +are forced back toward the likelihood that the visceral +expression of emotion is SECONDARY to the cerebral action +occurring with the psychical state.... We may with James accept +visceral and organic sensations and the memories and associations +of them as contributory to primitive emotion, but we must regard +them as re-enforcing rather than as initiating the psychosis."* + +* Quoted by Angell, loc. cit. + + +Angell suggests that the display of emotion in such cases may be +due to past experience, generating habits which would require +only the stimulation of cerebral reflex arcs. Rage and some forms +of fear, however, may, he thinks, gain expression without the +brain. Rage and fear have been especially studied by Cannon, +whose work is of the greatest importance. His results are given +in his book, "Bodily Changes in Pain, Hunger, Fear and Rage" (D. +Appleton and Co., 1916). + +The most interesting part of Cannon's book consists in the +investigation of the effects produced by secretion of adrenin. +Adrenin is a substance secreted into the blood by the adrenal +glands. These are among the ductless glands, the functions of +which, both in physiology and in connection with the emotions, +have only come to be known during recent years. Cannon found that +pain, fear and rage occurred in circumstances which affected the +supply of adrenin, and that an artificial injection of adrenin +could, for example, produce all the symptoms of fear. He studied +the effects of adrenin on various parts of the body; he found +that it causes the pupils to dilate, hairs to stand erect, blood +vessels to be constricted, and so on. These effects were still +produced if the parts in question were removed from the body and +kept alive artificially.* + +* Cannon's work is not unconnected with that of Mosso, who +maintains, as the result of much experimental work, that "the +seat of the emotions lies in the sympathetic nervous system." An +account of the work of both these men will be found in Goddard's +"Psychology of the Normal and Sub-normal" (Kegan Paul, 1919), +chap. vii and Appendix. + + +Cannon's chief argument against James is, if I understand him +rightly, that similar affections of the viscera may accompany +dissimilar emotions, especially fear and rage. Various different +emotions make us cry, and therefore it cannot be true to say, as +James does, that we "feel sorry because we cry," since sometimes +we cry when we feel glad. This argument, however, is by no means +conclusive against James, because it cannot be shown that there +are no visceral differences for different emotions, and indeed it +is unlikely that this is the case. + +As Angell says (loc. cit.): "Fear and joy may both cause cardiac +palpitation, but in one case we find high tonus of the skeletal +muscles, in the other case relaxation and the general sense of +weakness." + +Angell's conclusion, after discussing the experiments of +Sherrington and Cannon, is: "I would therefore submit that, so +far as concerns the critical suggestions by these two +psychologists, James's essential contentions are not materially +affected." If it were necessary for me to take sides on this +question, I should agree with this conclusion; but I think my +thesis as to the analysis of emotion can be maintained without +coming to. a probably premature conclusion upon the doubtful +parts of the physiological problem. + +According to our definitions, if James is right, an emotion may +be regarded as involving a confused perception of the viscera +concerned in its causation, while if Cannon and Sherrington are +right, an emotion involves a confused perception of its external +stimulus. This follows from what was said in Lecture VII. We +there defined a perception as an appearance, however irregular, +of one or more objects external to the brain. And in order to be +an appearance of one or more objects, it is only necessary that +the occurrence in question should be connected with them by a +continuous chain, and should vary when they are varied +sufficiently. Thus the question whether a mental occurrence can +be called a perception turns upon the question whether anything +can be inferred from it as to its causes outside the brain: if +such inference is possible, the occurrence in question will come +within our definition of a perception. And in that case, +according to the definition in Lecture VIII, its non-mnemic +elements will be sensations. Accordingly, whether emotions are +caused by changes in the viscera or by sensible objects, they +contain elements which are sensations according to our +definition. + +An emotion in its entirety is, of course, something much more +complex than a perception. An emotion is essentially a process, +and it will be only what one may call a cross-section of the +emotion that will be a perception, of a bodily condition +according to James, or (in certain cases) of an external object +according to his opponents. An emotion in its entirety contains +dynamic elements, such as motor impulses, desires, pleasures and +pains. Desires and pleasures and pains, according to the theory +adopted in Lecture III, are characteristics of processes, not +separate ingredients. An emotion--rage, for example--will be a +certain kind of process, consisting of perceptions and (in +general) bodily movements. The desires and pleasures and pains +involved are properties of this process, not separate items in +the stuff of which the emotion is composed. The dynamic elements +in an emotion, if we are right in our analysis, contain, from our +point of view, no ingredients beyond those contained in the +processes considered in Lecture III. The ingredients of an +emotion are only sensations and images and bodily movements +succeeding each other according to a certain pattern. With this +conclusion we may leave the emotions and pass to the +consideration of the will. + +The first thing to be defined when we are dealing with Will is a +VOLUNTARY MOVEMENT. We have already defined vital movements, and +we have maintained that, from a behaviourist standpoint, it is +impossible to distinguish which among such movements are reflex +and which voluntary. Nevertheless, there certainly is a +distinction. When we decide in the morning that it is time to get +up, our consequent movement is voluntary. The beating of the +heart, on the other hand, is involuntary: we can neither cause it +nor prevent it by any decision of our own, except indirectly, as +e.g. by drugs. Breathing is intermediate between the two: we +normally breathe without the help of the will, but we can alter +or stop our breathing if we choose. + +James ("Psychology," chap. xxvi) maintains that the only +distinctive characteristic of a voluntary act is that it involves +an idea of the movement to be performed, made up of memory-images +of the kinaesthetic sensations which we had when the same +movement occurred on some former occasion. He points out that, on +this view, no movement can be made voluntarily unless it has +previously occurred involuntarily.* + +* "Psychology," Vol. ii, pp. 492-3. + + +I see no reason to doubt the correctness of this view. We shall +say, then, that movements which are accompanied by kinaesthetic +sensations tend to be caused by the images of those sensations, +and when so caused are called VOLUNTARY. + +Volition, in the emphatic sense, involves something more than +voluntary movement. The sort of case I am thinking of is decision +after deliberation. Voluntary movements are a part of this, but +not the whole. There is, in addition to them, a judgment: "This +is what I shall do"; there is also a sensation of tension during +doubt, followed by a different sensation at the moment of +deciding. I see no reason whatever to suppose that there is any +specifically new ingredient; sensations and images, with their +relations and causal laws, yield all that seems to be wanted for +the analysis of the will, together with the fact that +kinaesthetic images tend to cause the movements with which they +are connected. Conflict of desires is of course essential in the +causation of the emphatic kind of will: there will be for a time +kinaesthetic images of incompatible movements, followed by the +exclusive image of the movement which is said to be willed. Thus +will seems to add no new irreducible ingredient to the analysis +of the mind. + + + +LECTURE XV. CHARACTERISTICS OF MENTAL PHENOMENA + +At the end of our journey it is time to return to the question +from which we set out, namely: What is it that characterizes mind +as opposed to matter? Or, to state the same question in other +terms: How is psychology to be distinguished from physics? The +answer provisionally suggested at the outset of our inquiry was +that psychology and physics are distinguished by the nature of +their causal laws, not by their subject matter. At the same time +we held that there is a certain subject matter, namely images, to +which only psychological causal laws are applicable; this subject +matter, therefore, we assigned exclusively to psychology. But we +found no way of defining images except through their causation; +in their intrinsic character they appeared to have no universal +mark by which they could be distinguished from sensations. + +In this last lecture I propose to pass in review various +suggested methods of distinguishing mind from matter. I shall +then briefly sketch the nature of that fundamental science which +I believe to be the true metaphysic, in which mind and matter +alike are seen to be constructed out of a neutral stuff, whose +causal laws have no such duality as that of psychology, but form +the basis upon which both physics and psychology are built. + +In search for the definition of "mental phenomena," let us begin +with "consciousness," which is often thought to be the essence of +mind. In the first lecture I gave various arguments against the +view that consciousness is fundamental, but I did not attempt to +say what consciousness is. We must find a definition of it, if we +are to feel secure in deciding that it is not fundamental. It is +for the sake of the proof that it is not fundamental that we must +now endeavour to decide what it is. + +"Consciousness," by those who regard it as fundamental, is taken +to be a character diffused throughout our mental life, distinct +from sensations and images, memories, beliefs and desires, but +present in all of them.* Dr. Henry Head, in an article which I +quoted in Lecture III, distinguishing sensations from purely +physiological occurrences, says: "Sensation, in the strict sense +of the term, demands the existence of consciousness." This +statement, at first sight, is one to which we feel inclined to +assent, but I believe we are mistaken if we do so. Sensation is +the sort of thing of which we MAY be conscious, but not a thing +of which we MUST be conscious. We have been led, in the course of +our inquiry, to admit unconscious beliefs and unconscious +desires. There is, so far as I can see, no class of mental or +other occurrences of which we are always conscious whenever they +happen. + +* Cf. Lecture VI. + + +The first thing to notice is that consciousness must be of +something. In view of this, I should define "consciousness" in +terms of that relation of an image of a word to an object which +we defined, in Lecture XI, as "meaning." When a sensation is +followed by an image which is a "copy" of it, I think it may be +said that the existence of the image constitutes consciousness of +the sensation, provided it is accompanied by that sort of belief +which, when we reflect upon it, makes us feel that the image is a +"sign" of something other than itself. This is the sort of belief +which, in the case of memory, we expressed in the words "this +occurred"; or which, in the case of a judgment of perception, +makes us believe in qualities correlated with present sensations, +as e.g., tactile and visual qualities are correlated. The +addition of some element of belief seems required, since mere +imagination does not involve consciousness of anything, and there +can be no consciousness which is not of something. If images +alone constituted consciousness of their prototypes, such +imagination-images as in fact have prototypes would involve +consciousness of them; since this is not the case, an element of +belief must be added to the images in defining consciousness. The +belief must be of that sort that constitutes objective reference, +past or present. An image, together with a belief of this sort +concerning it, constitutes, according to our definition, +consciousness of the prototype of the image. + +But when we pass from consciousness of sensations to +consciousness of objects of perception, certain further points +arise which demand an addition to our definition. A judgment of +perception, we may say, consists of a core of sensation, together +with associated images, with belief in the present existence of +an object to which sensation and images are referred in a way +which is difficult to analyse. Perhaps we might say that the +belief is not fundamentally in any PRESENT existence, but is of +the nature of an expectation: for example. when we see an object, +we expect certain sensations to result if we proceed to touch it. +Perception, then, will consist of a present sensation together +with expectations of future sensations. (This, of course, is a +reflective analysis, not an account of the way perception appears +to unchecked introspection.) But all such expectations are liable +to be erroneous, since they are based upon correlations which are +usual but not invariable. Any such correlation may mislead us in +a particular case, for example, if we try to touch a reflection +in a looking-glass under the impression that it is "real." Since +memory is fallible, a similar difficulty arises as regards +consciousness of past objects. It would seem odd to say that we +can be "conscious" of a thing which does not or did not exist. +The only way to avoid this awkwardness is to add to our +definition the proviso that the beliefs involved in consciousness +must be TRUE. + +In the second place, the question arises as to whether we can be +conscious of images. If we apply our definition to this case, it +seems to demand images of images. In order, for example, to be +conscious of an image of a cat, we shall require, according to +the letter of the definition, an image which is a copy of our +image of the cat, and has this image for its prototype. Now, it +hardly seems probable, as a matter of observation, that there are +images of images, as opposed to images of sensations. We may meet +this difficulty in two ways, either by boldly denying +consciousness of images, or by finding a sense in which, by means +of a different accompanying belief, an image, instead of meaning +its prototype, can mean another image of the same prototype. + +The first alternative, which denies consciousness of images, has +already been discussed when we were dealing with Introspection in +Lecture VI. We then decided that there must be, in some sense, +consciousness of images. We are therefore left with the second +suggested way of dealing with knowledge of images. According to +this second hypothesis, there may be two images of the same +prototype, such that one of them means the other, instead of +meaning the prototype. It will be remembered that we defined +meaning by association a word or image means an object, we said, +when it has the same associations as the object. But this +definition must not be interpreted too absolutely: a word or +image will not have ALL the same associations as the object which +it means. The word "cat" may be associated with the word "mat," +but it would not happen except by accident that a cat would be +associated with a mat. And in like manner an image may have +certain associations which its prototype will not have, e.g. an +association with the word "image." When these associations are +active, an image means an image, instead of meaning its +prototype. If I have had images of a given prototype many times, +I can mean one of these, as opposed to the rest, by recollecting +the time and place or any other distinctive association of that +one occasion. This happens, for example, when a place recalls to +us some thought we previously had in that place, so that we +remember a thought as opposed to the occurrence to which it +referred. Thus we may say that we think of an image A when we +have a similar image B associated with recollections of +circumstances connected with A, but not with its prototype or +with other images of the same prototype. In this way we become +aware of images without the need of any new store of mental +contents, merely by the help of new associations. This theory, so +far as I can see, solves the problems of introspective knowledge, +without requiring heroic measures such as those proposed by +Knight Dunlap, whose views we discussed in Lecture VI. + +According to what we have been saying, sensation itself is not an +instance of consciousness, though the immediate memory by which +it is apt to be succeeded is so. A sensation which is remembered +becomes an object of consciousness as soon as it begins to be +remembered, which will normally be almost immediately after its +occurrence (if at all); but while it exists it is not an object +of consciousness. If, however, it is part of a perception, say of +some familiar person, we may say that the person perceived is an +object of consciousness. For in this case the sensation is a SIGN +of the perceived object in much the same way in which a +memory-image is a sign of a remembered object. The essential +practical function of "consciousness" and "thought" is that they +enable us to act with reference to what is distant in time or +space, even though it is not at present stimulating our senses. +This reference to absent objects is possible through association +and habit. Actual sensations, in themselves, are not cases of +consciousness, because they do not bring in this reference to +what is absent. But their connection with consciousness is very +close, both through immediate memory, and through the +correlations which turn sensations into perceptions. + +Enough has, I hope, been said to show that consciousness is far +too complex and accidental to be taken as the fundamental +characteristic of mind. We have seen that belief and images both +enter into it. Belief itself, as we saw in an earlier lecture, is +complex. Therefore, if any definition of mind is suggested by our +analysis of consciousness, images are what would naturally +suggest themselves. But since we found that images can only be +defined causally, we cannot deal with this suggestion, except in +connection with the difference between physical and psychological +causal laws. + +I come next to those characteristics of mental phenomena which +arise out of mnemic causation. The possibility of action with +reference to what is not sensibly present is one of the things +that might be held to characterize mind. Let us take first a very +elementary example. Suppose you are in a familiar room at night, +and suddenly the light goes out. You will be able to find your +way to the door without much difficulty by means of the picture +of the room which you have in your mind. In this case visual +images serve, somewhat imperfectly it is true, the purpose which +visual sensations would otherwise serve. The stimulus to the +production of visual images is the desire to get out of the room, +which, according to what we found in Lecture III, consists +essentially of present sensations and motor impulses caused by +them. Again, words heard or read enable you to act with reference +to the matters about which they give information; here, again, a +present sensible stimulus, in virtue of habits formed in the +past, enables you to act in a manner appropriate to an object +which is not sensibly present. The whole essence of the practical +efficiency of "thought" consists in sensitiveness to signs: the +sensible presence of A, which is a sign of the present or future +existence of B, enables us to act in a manner appropriate to B. +Of this, words are the supreme example, since their effects as +signs are prodigious, while their intrinsic interest as sensible +occurrences on their own account is usually very slight. The +operation of signs may or may not be accompanied by +consciousness. If a sensible stimulus A calls up an image of B, +and we then act with reference to B, we have what may be called +consciousness of B. But habit may enable us to act in a manner +appropriate to B as soon as A appears, without ever having an +image of B. In that case, although A operates as a sign, it +operates without the help of consciousness. Broadly speaking, a +very familiar sign tends to operate directly in this manner, and +the intervention of consciousness marks an imperfectly +established habit. + +The power of acquiring experience, which characterizes men and +animals, is an example of the general law that, in mnemic +causation, the causal unit is not one event at one time, but two +or more events at two or more times.& A burnt child fears the +fire, that is to say, the neighbourhood of fire has a different +effect upon a child which has had the sensations of burning than +upon one which has not. More correctly, the observed effect, when +a child which has been burnt is put near a fire, has for its +cause, not merely the neighbourhood of the fire, but this +together with the previous burning. The general formula, when an +animal has acquired experience through some event A, is that, +when B occurs at some future time, the animal to which A has +happened acts differently from an animal which A has not +happened. Thus A and B together, not either separately, must be +regarded as the cause of the animal's behaviour, unless we take +account of the effect which A has had in altering the animal's +nervous tissue, which is a matter not patent to external +observation except under very special circumstances. With this +possibility, we are brought back to causal laws,and to the +suggestion that many things which seem essentially mental are +really neural. Perhaps it is the nerves that acquire experience +rather than the mind. If so, the possibility of acquiring +experience cannot be used to define mind.* + +* Cf. Lecture IV. + + +Very similar considerations apply to memory, if taken as the +essence of mind. A recollection is aroused by something which is +happening now, but is different from the effect which the present +occurrence would have produced if the recollected event had not +occurred. This may be accounted for by the physical effect of the +past event on the brain, making it a different instrument from +that which would have resulted from a different experience. The +causal peculiarities of memory may, therefore, have a +physiological explanation. With every special class of mental +phenomena this possibility meets us afresh. If psychology is to +be a separate science at all, we must seek a wider ground for its +separateness than any that we have been considering hitherto. + +We have found that "consciousness" is too narrow to characterize +mental phenomena, and that mnemic causation is too wide. I come +now to a characteristic which, though difficult to define, comes +much nearer to what we require, namely subjectivity. + +Subjectivity, as a characteristic of mental phenomena, was +considered in Lecture VII, in connection with the definition of +perception. We there decided that those particulars which +constitute the physical world can be collected into sets in two +ways, one of which makes a bundle of all those particulars that +are appearances of a given thing from different places, while the +other makes a bundle of all those particulars which are +appearances of different things from a given place. A bundle of +this latter sort, at a given time, is called a "perspective"; +taken throughout a period of time, it is called a "biography." +Subjectivity is the characteristic of perspectives and +biographies, the characteristic of giving the view of the world +from a certain place. We saw in Lecture VII that this +characteristic involves none of the other characteristics that +are commonly associated with mental phenomena, such as +consciousness, experience and memory. We found in fact that it is +exhibited by a photographic plate, and, strictly speaking, by any +particular taken in conjunction with those which have the same +"passive" place in the sense defined in Lecture VII. The +particulars forming one perspective are connected together +primarily by simultaneity; those forming one biography, primarily +by the existence of direct time-relations between them. To these +are to be added relations derivable from the laws of perspective. +In all this we are clearly not in the region of psychology, as +commonly understood; yet we are also hardly in the region of +physics. And the definition of perspectives and biographies, +though it does not yet yield anything that would be commonly +called "mental," is presupposed in mental phenomena, for example +in mnemic causation: the causal unit in mnemic causation, which +gives rise to Semon's engram, is the whole of one perspective-- +not of any perspective, but of a perspective in a place where +there is nervous tissue, or at any rate living tissue of some +sort. Perception also, as we saw, can only be defined in terms of +perspectives. Thus the conception of subjectivity, i.e. of the +"passive" place of a particular, though not alone sufficient to +define mind, is clearly an essential element in the definition. + +I have maintained throughout these lectures that the data of +psychology do not differ in, their intrinsic character from the +data of physics. I have maintained that sensations are data for +psychology and physics equally, while images, which may be in +some sense exclusively psychological data, can only be +distinguished from sensations by their correlations, not by what +they are in themselves. It is now necessary, however, to examine +the notion of a "datum," and to obtain, if possible, a definition +of this notion. + +The notion of "data" is familiar throughout science, and is +usually treated by men of science as though it were perfectly +clear. Psychologists, on the other hand, find great difficulty in +the conception. "Data" are naturally defined in terms of theory +of knowledge: they are those propositions of which the truth is +known without demonstration, so that they may be used as +premisses in proving other propositions. Further, when a +proposition which is a datum asserts the existence of something, +we say that the something is a datum, as well as the proposition +asserting its existence. Thus those objects of whose existence we +become certain through perception are said to be data. + +There is some difficulty in connecting this epistemological +definition of "data" with our psychological analysis of +knowledge; but until such a connection has been effected, we have +no right to use the conception "data." + +It is clear, in the first place, that there can be no datum apart +from a belief. A sensation which merely comes and goes is not a +datum; it only becomes a datum when it is remembered. Similarly, +in perception, we do not have a datum unless we have a JUDGMENT +of perception. In the sense in which objects (as opposed to +propositions) are data, it would seem natural to say that those +objects of which we are conscious are data. But consciousness, as +we have seen, is a complex notion, involving beliefs, as well as +mnemic phenomena such as are required for perception and memory. +It follows that no datum is theoretically indubitable, since no +belief is infallible; it follows also that every datum has a +greater or less degree of vagueness, since there is always some +vagueness in memory and the meaning of images. + +Data are not those things of which our consciousness is earliest +in time. At every period of life, after we have become capable of +thought, some of our beliefs are obtained by inference, while +others are not. A belief may pass from either of these classes +into the other, and may therefore become, or cease to be, a +belief giving a datum. When, in what follows, I speak of data, I +do not mean the things of which we feel sure before scientific +study begins, but the things which, when a science is well +advanced, appear as affording grounds for other parts of the +science, without themselves being believed on any ground except +observation. I assume, that is to say, a trained observer, with +an analytic attention, knowing the sort of thing to look for, and +the sort of thing that will be important. What he observes is, at +the stage of science which he has reached, a datum for his +science. It is just as sophisticated and elaborate as the +theories which he bases upon it, since only trained habits and +much practice enable a man to make the kind of observation that +will be scientifically illuminating. Nevertheless, when once it +has been observed, belief in it is not based on inference and +reasoning, but merely upon its having been seen. In this way its +logical status differs from that of the theories which are proved +by its means. + +In any science other than psychology the datum is primarily a +perception, in which only the sensational core is ultimately and +theoretically a datum, though some such accretions as turn the +sensation into a perception are practically unavoidable. But if +we postulate an ideal observer, he will be able to isolate the +sensation, and treat this alone as datum. There is, therefore, an +important sense in which we may say that, if we analyse as much +as we ought, our data, outside psychology, consist of sensations, +which include within themselves certain spatial and temporal +relations. + +Applying this remark to physiology, we see that the nerves and +brain as physical objects are not truly data; they are to be +replaced, in the ideal structure of science, by the sensations +through which the physiologist is said to perceive them. The +passage from these sensations to nerves and brain as physical +objects belongs really to the initial stage in the theory of +physics, and ought to be placed in the reasoned part, not in the +part supposed to be observed. To say we see the nerves is like +saying we hear the nightingale; both are convenient but +inaccurate expressions. We hear a sound which we believe to be +causally connected with the nightingale, and we see a sight which +we believe to be causally connected with a nerve. But in each +case it is only the sensation that ought, in strictness, to be +called a datum. Now, sensations are certainly among the data of +psychology. Therefore all the data of the physical sciences are +also psychological data. It remains to inquire whether all the +data of psychology are also data of physical science, and +especially of physiology. + +If we have been right in our analysis of mind, the ultimate data +of psychology are only sensations and images and their relations. +Beliefs, desires, volitions, and so on, appeared to us to be +complex phenomena consisting of sensations and images variously +interrelated. Thus (apart from certain relations) the occurrences +which seem most distinctively mental, and furthest removed from +physics, are, like physical objects, constructed or inferred, not +part of the original stock of data in the perfected science. From +both ends, therefore, the difference between physical and +psychological data is diminished. Is there ultimately no +difference, or do images remain as irreducibly and exclusively +psychological? In view of the causal definition of the difference +between images and sensations, this brings us to a new question, +namely: Are the causal laws of psychology different from those of +any other science, or are they really physiological? + +Certain ambiguities must be removed before this question can be +adequately discussed. + +First, there is the distinction between rough approximate laws +and such as appear to be precise and general. I shall return to +the former presently; it is the latter that I wish to discuss +now. + +Matter, as defined at the end of Lecture V, is a logical fiction, +invented because it gives a convenient way of stating causal +laws. Except in cases of perfect regularity in appearances (of +which we can have no experience), the actual appearances of a +piece of matter are not members of that ideal system of regular +appearances which is defined as being the matter in question. But +the matter is. after all, inferred from its appearances, which +are used to VERIFY physical laws. Thus, in so far as physics is +an empirical and verifiable science, it must assume or prove that +the inference from appearances to matter is, in general, +legitimate, and it must be able to tell us, more or less, what +appearances to expect. It is through this question of +verifiability and empirical applicability to experience that we +are led to a theory of matter such as I advocate. From the +consideration of this question it results that physics, in so far +as it is an empirical science, not a logical phantasy, is +concerned with particulars of just the same sort as those which +psychology considers under the name of sensations. The causal +laws of physics, so interpreted, differ from those of psychology +only by the fact that they connect a particular with other +appearances in the same piece of matter, rather than with other +appearances in the same perspective. That is to say, they group +together particulars having the same "active" place, while +psychology groups together those having the same "passive" place. +Some particulars, such as images, have no "active" place, and +therefore belong exclusively to psychology. + +We can now understand the distinction between physics and +psychology. The nerves and brain are matter: our visual +sensations when we look at them may be, and I think are, members +of the system constituting irregular appearances of this matter, +but are not the whole of the system. Psychology is concerned, +inter alia, with our sensations when we see a piece of matter, as +opposed to the matter which we see. Assuming, as we must, that +our sensations have physical causes, their causal laws are +nevertheless radically different from the laws of physics, since +the consideration of a single sensation requires the breaking up +of the group of which it is a member. When a sensation is used to +verify physics, it is used merely as a sign of a certain material +phenomenon, i.e. of a group of particulars of which it is a +member. But when it is studied by psychology, it is taken away +from that group and put into quite a different context, where it +causes images or voluntary movements. It is primarily this +different grouping that is characteristic of psychology as +opposed to all the physical sciences, including physiology; a +secondary difference is that images, which belong to psychology, +are not easily to be included among the aspects which constitute +a physical thing or piece of matter. + +There remains, however, an important question, namely: Are mental +events causally dependent upon physical events in a sense in +which the converse dependence does not hold? Before we can +discuss the answer to this question, we must first be clear as to +what our question means. + +When, given A, it is possible to infer B, but given B, it is not +possible to infer A, we say that B is dependent upon A in a sense +in which A is not dependent upon B. Stated in logical terms, this +amounts to saying that, when we know a many-one relation of A to +B, B is dependent upon A in respect of this relation. If the +relation is a causal law, we say that B is causally dependent +upon A. The illustration that chiefly concerns us is the system +of appearances of a physical object. We can, broadly speaking, +infer distant appearances from near ones, but not vice versa. All +men look alike when they are a mile away, hence when we see a man +a mile off we cannot tell what he will look like when he is only +a yard away. But when we see him a yard away, we can tell what he +will look like a mile away. Thus the nearer view gives us more +valuable information, and the distant view is causally dependent +upon it in a sense in which it is not causally dependent upon the +distant view. + +It is this greater causal potency of the near appearance that +leads physics to state its causal laws in terms of that system of +regular appearances to which the nearest appearances increasingly +approximate, and that makes it value information derived from the +microscope or telescope. It is clear that our sensations, +considered as irregular appearances of physical objects, share +the causal dependence belonging to comparatively distant +appearances; therefore in our sensational life we are in causal +dependence upon physical laws. + +This, however, is not the most important or interesting part of +our question. It is the causation of images that is the vital +problem. We have seen that they are subject to mnenic causation, +and that mnenic causation may be reducible to ordinary physical +causation in nervous tissue. This is the question upon which our +attitude must turn towards what may be called materialism. One +sense of materialism is the view that all mental phenomena are +causally dependent upon physical phenomena in the above-defined +sense of causal dependence. Whether this is the case or not, I do +not profess to know. The question seems to me the same as the +question whether mnemic causation is ultimate, which we +considered without deciding in Lecture IV. But I think the bulk +of the evidence points to the materialistic answer as the more +probable. + +In considering the causal laws of psychology, the distinction +between rough generalizations and exact laws is important. There +are many rough generalizations in psychology, not only of the +sort by which we govern our ordinary behaviour to each other, but +also of a more nearly scientific kind. Habit and association +belong among such laws. I will give an illustration of the kind +of law that can be obtained. Suppose a person has frequently +experienced A and B in close temporal contiguity, an association +will be established, so that A, or an image of A, tends to cause +an image of B. The question arises: will the association work in +either direction, or only from the one which has occurred earlier +to the one which has occurred later? In an article by Mr. +Wohlgemuth, called "The Direction of Associations" ("British +Journal of Psychology," vol. v, part iv, March, 1913), it is +claimed to be proved by experiment that, in so far as motor +memory (i.e. memory of movements) is concerned, association works +only from earlier to later, while in visual and auditory memory +this is not the case, but the later of two neighbouring +experiences may recall the earlier as well as the earlier the +later. It is suggested that motor memory is physiological, while +visual and auditory memory are more truly psychological. But that +is not the point which concerns us in the illustration. The point +which concerns us is that a law of association, established by +purely psychological observation, is a purely psychological law, +and may serve as a sample of what is possible in the way of +discovering such laws. It is, however, still no more than a rough +generalization, a statistical average. It cannot tell us what +will result from a given cause on a given occasion. It is a law +of tendency, not a precise and invariable law such as those of +physics aim at being. + +If we wish to pass from the law of habit, stated as a tendency or +average, to something more precise and invariable, we seem driven +to the nervous system. We can more or less guess how an +occurrence produces a change in the brain, and how its repetition +gradually produces something analogous to the channel of a river, +along which currents flow more easily than in neighbouring paths. +We can perceive that in this way, if we had more knowledge, the +tendency to habit through repetition might be replaced by a +precise account of the effect of each occurrence in bringing +about a modification of the sort from which habit would +ultimately result. It is such considerations that make students +of psychophysiology materialistic in their methods, whatever they +may be in their metaphysics. There are, of course, exceptions, +such as Professor J. S. Haldane,* who maintains that it is +theoretically impossible to obtain physiological explanations of +psychical phenomena, or physical explanations of physiological +phenomena. But I think the bulk of expert opinion, in practice, +is on the other side. + +*See his book, "The New Physiology and Other Addresses" (Charles +Griffin & Co., 1919). + + +The question whether it is possible to obtain precise causal laws +in which the causes are psychological, not material, is one of +detailed investigation. I have done what I could to make clear +the nature of the question, but I do not believe that it is +possible as yet to answer it with any confidence. It seems to be +by no means an insoluble question, and we may hope that science +will be able to produce sufficient grounds for regarding one +answer as much more probable than the other. But for the moment I +do not see how we can come to a decision. + +I think, however, on grounds of the theory of matter explained in +Lectures V and VII, that an ultimate scientific account of what +goes on in the world, if it were ascertainable, would resemble +psychology rather than physics in what we found to be the +decisive difference between them. I think, that is to say, that +such an account would not be content to speak, even formally, as +though matter, which is a logical fiction, were the ultimate +reality. I think that, if our scientific knowledge were adequate +to the task, which it neither is nor is likely to become, it +would exhibit the laws of correlation of the particulars +constituting a momentary condition of a material unit, and would +state the causal laws* of the world in terms of these +particulars, not in terms of matter. Causal laws so stated would, +I believe, be applicable to psychology and physics equally; the +science in which they were stated would succeed in achieving what +metaphysics has vainly attempted, namely a unified account of +what really happens, wholly true even if not the whole of truth, +and free from all convenient fictions or unwarrantable +assumptions of metaphysical entities. A causal law applicable to +particulars would count as a law of physics if it could be stated +in terms of those fictitious systems of regular appearances which +are matter; if this were not the case, it would count as a law of +psychology if one of the particulars were a sensation or an +image, i.e. were subject to mnemic causation. I believe that the +realization of the complexity of a material unit, and its +analysis into constituents analogous to sensations, is of the +utmost importance to philosophy, and vital for any understanding +of the relations between mind and matter, between our perceptions +and the world which they perceive. It is in this direction, I am +convinced, that we must look for the solution of many ancient +perplexities. + +* In a perfected science, causal laws will take the form of +differential equations--or of finite-difference equations, if the +theory of quanta should prove correct. + + +It is probable that the whole science of mental occurrences, +especially where its initial definitions are concerned, could be +simplified by the development of the fundamental unifying science +in which the causal laws of particulars are sought, rather than +the causal laws of those systems of particulars that constitute +the material units of physics. This fundamental science would +cause physics to become derivative, in the sort of way in which +theories of the constitution of the atom make chemistry +derivative from physics; it would also cause psychology to appear +less singular and isolated among sciences. If we are right in +this, it is a wrong philosophy of matter which has caused many of +the difficulties in the philosophy of mind--difficulties which a +right philosophy of matter would cause to disappear. + +The conclusions at which we have arrived may be summed up as +follows: + +I. Physics and psychology are not distinguished by their +material. Mind and matter alike are logical constructions; the +particulars out of which they are constructed, or from which they +are inferred, have various relations, some of which are studied +by physics, others by psychology. Broadly speaking, physics group +particulars by their active places, psychology by their passive +places. + +II. The two most essential characteristics of the causal laws +which would naturally be called psychological are SUBJECTIVITY +and MNEMIC CAUSATION; these are not unconnected, since the causal +unit in mnemic causation is the group of particulars having a +given passive place at a given time, and it is by this manner of +grouping that subjectivity is defined. + +III. Habit, memory and thought are all developments of mnemic +causation. It is probable, though not certain, that mnemic +causation is derivative from ordinary physical causation in +nervous (and other) tissue. + +IV. Consciousness is a complex and far from universal +characteristic of mental phenomena. + +V. Mind is a matter of degree, chiefly exemplified in number and +complexity of habits. + +VI. All our data, both in physics and psychology, are subject to +psychological causal laws; but physical causal laws, at least in +traditional physics, can only be stated in terms of matter, which +is both inferred and constructed, never a datum. In this respect +psychology is nearer to what actually exists. + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg Etext of The Analysis of Mind by Bertrand +Russell diff --git a/old/analmd10.zip b/old/analmd10.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..636c724 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/analmd10.zip |