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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 |