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+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 79014 ***
+
+
+
+
+                                 GESTALT
+                               PSYCHOLOGY
+
+                                   BY
+                           DR. WOLFGANG KÖHLER
+
+                                NEW YORK
+                            HORACE LIVERIGHT
+                                  1929
+
+
+
+
+                           Copyright, 1929, by
+                         Horace Liveright, Inc.
+
+                       First printing, April, 1929
+                      Second printing, April, 1929
+                      Third printing, August, 1929
+                     Fourth printing, October, 1929
+
+                       PRINTED IN THE U. S. A. BY
+                       QUINN & BODEN COMPANY. INC.
+                              RAHWAY, N. J.
+
+
+
+
+                                  _To_
+                             MAX WERTHEIMER
+
+
+
+
+_Preface_
+
+
+I OFFER this book to the patient reader, feeling more than ever how
+much I have been inferior to my task. Nothing is easier than to
+criticize it. _Gestalt_ psychology, the subject matter I have tried
+to present, resembles in 1928 a promising start more than a complete
+achievement. At all events it would have been difficult to introduce
+it adequately. To present it skillfully in a foreign language was far
+beyond my linguistic ability. I have done all that I possibly could.
+The greatest difficulty, however, is that only certain simple and
+almost crude concepts of _gestalt_ psychology would yield to my painful
+efforts to convey them through the medium of English. Under these
+circumstances the optimism of my excellent publisher is responsible if
+the incomplete portrait of an incomplete thing is here recommended to
+public consideration.
+
+Certain other trends in contemporary psychology are discussed in
+connection with _gestalt_ psychology. The first question a foreign
+psychologist has to answer in America is, of course: How do you like
+behaviorism? This vigorous school has energetically drawn certain lines
+beyond which a psychologist should never go. And, then, indicating the
+only direction that all psychologists must take, it has left little
+place open for free discussion of theory and research; in other words,
+it has developed into such a fundamentalism that I felt myself forced
+to clear my way for a certain liberalism to which I am accustomed in
+science.
+
+With introspectionism things are not entirely different. In this
+psychological school a scheme of procedure, which is just the
+opposite to my own, has become dominant. This is unfortunate. If
+behaviorists should refuse to take account of this book because in
+it _direct experience_ is employed and referred to without apology,
+introspectionists would not treat it any better, since my use of
+experience, from their point of view, is not of the right sort. I have
+had to explain, then, not only how I could eat the forbidden fruit in
+spite of all commandments, but also why I took the common ware from the
+street and from the market-place instead of buying the standardized
+and sterilized products which introspection would furnish from its
+cultivated orchard. It was my aim, however, to make this discussion
+productive and, in addition to criticism, the reader will find some of
+our own rules of procedure expressed in these first chapters. If the
+fighting spirit should be found to prevail in some paragraphs, I beg
+you to remember that, as in politics, we sometimes strike at a system
+though we are fond of its defenders.
+
+Certain psychologists, both in the United States and in England,
+will recognize their own ideas or, at least, find some similarities
+to them, in these chapters. Instead of treating all the instances of
+this convergence and agreement in detail, I only mention the theory of
+“emergent evolution” and the doctrine of Professor Whitehead’s imposing
+work, with all the respect which is due them both. Perhaps Professor R.
+M. Ogden will allow me to call him a _gestalt_ psychologist. I have not
+been able to see quite clearly to what degree there is agreement with
+certain other eminent psychologists. In Professor Bentley’s well-known
+book, for example, his term “organization” sometimes seems to come very
+near the concept of _gestalt_. But there must be some difference, since
+on the other hand, the basic doctrine of introspective psychology seems
+to be preserved in a manner incompatible with _gestalt_ psychology.
+Future development will undoubtedly show whether or not our views can
+be brought to a full congruence.
+
+Dr. Mortimer Adler deserves the reader’s thanks as well as my own for
+the skill and tact which he displayed in the correction of my text,
+which was finally revised by K. Koffka.
+
+My thanks are due to Mrs. L. Köhler, without whose help my work would
+have been all but impossible.
+
+To Max Wertheimer I should like to dedicate something of which I could
+be prouder than these ten chapters. I hope he will accept them,
+however, as a testimony of my good will and of our friendship.
+
+                                                                W. K.
+
+  Ormor, Sweden,
+    August 12, 1928.
+
+
+
+
+_Contents_
+
+
+        CHAPTER                                                     PAGE
+
+        PREFACE                                                      vii
+
+     I. THE VIEWPOINT OF BEHAVIORISM                                   3
+
+    II. PSYCHOLOGY AS A YOUNG SCIENCE                                 35
+
+   III. THE VIEWPOINT OF INTROSPECTION                                70
+
+    IV. DYNAMICS AS OPPOSED TO MACHINE THEORY                        103
+
+     V. SENSORY ORGANIZATION                                         148
+
+    VI. THE PROPERTIES OF ORGANIZED WHOLES                           187
+
+   VII. BEHAVIOR                                                     224
+
+  VIII. ASSOCIATION                                                  269
+
+    IX. REPRODUCTION                                                 301
+
+     X. INSIGHT                                                      349
+
+        INDEX                                                        395
+
+
+
+
+GESTALT PSYCHOLOGY
+
+
+
+
+I
+
+_The Viewpoint of Behaviorism_
+
+
+THERE seems to be a single starting point for psychology, exactly
+as for all the other sciences: the world as I find it, naïvely and
+uncritically. The naïveté may be lost as we proceed. Problems may be
+found, which were completely hidden from our eyes at first, and for
+their solution it may be necessary to devise concepts which seem to
+have little contact with uncritical experience; nevertheless the whole
+development should begin with a naïve picture of the world. This origin
+is necessary because there is no other basis from which a science can
+arise. In my case, which may be taken as representative of many others
+essentially similar to it, that naïve picture consists, at this moment,
+of a blue lake with dark forests around it, a big, gray stone, hard
+and cool, which I have chosen as a chair, a paper on which I write,
+a faint noise of the wind which hardly moves the trees, and a strong
+odor characteristic of boats and fishing. But there is more in this
+world: somehow I now behold, though it does not become fused with the
+blue lake of the present, another lake of a milder blue, and I find
+myself, some years ago, looking at it from its shore in Illinois. I am
+perfectly accustomed to beholding thousands of pictures of this kind
+which arise some way or other when I am alone. And there is still
+more in this world: my hand and fingers moving lightly over the smooth
+surface of the paper; now, when I stop writing and look around again,
+there is a feeling of health and vigor, but in the next moment I feel
+something like a dark pressure somewhere in my interior which tends to
+develop into a feeling of being hunted--I have promised to have this
+manuscript ready within a few months.
+
+Most people live in such a world permanently, which is _the world_ for
+them, and hardly ever find problems or difficulties in its properties.
+Crowded streets may take the place of the lake, a cushion in a sedan
+that of my stone, some serious words of a business transaction may be
+remembered instead of Lake Michigan, and the dark pressure may have
+to do with tax-paying instead of book-writing. All these are minor
+differences so long as one takes the world at its face-value, as we all
+do except in those hours when science disturbs our natural attitude.
+There are problems, of course, even for the most uncritical citizen of
+this first-hand world. But, for the most part, they do not refer to the
+nature of it; they are of a practical or an emotional sort and they
+usually mean that, this world being taken for granted, we do not know
+how to judge or how to behave in that actual part of it which we face
+as our present situation.
+
+Various sciences, most of all physics and biology, began centuries
+ago to destroy the simple confidence with which human beings take
+that naïve world as _the reality_. Though hundreds of millions still
+remain undisturbed, the scientist has found it, in some respects, full
+of almost contradictory properties. Fortunately he has been able to
+discover another world, as it were, behind it, whose properties, highly
+different from those of the everyday world of naïve people, do not seem
+to be contradictory at all. No wonder therefore that now, as psychology
+begins to be a science, some of its most energetic students should wish
+to make it go the way of the exact sciences at once. Indeed, if other
+sciences have found the naïve world of everyday reality impervious to
+and unavailable for scientific method, what hope of better success can
+we as psychologists have? And if the enormous and almost impossible
+feat of jumping out of the world of direct, but confused, experience
+into a world of clear and hard reality, has already been achieved by
+physical science, it would seem wise for the psychologist to take
+advantage of that great event in the history of science and begin to
+construct psychology on the solid basis laid down by the physicist and
+the physiologist outside the field of uncritical experience.
+
+A few words about the history of scientific criticism will help to
+define better the material or field to be given up by psychological
+investigation and to indicate what shall be taken as a better object
+of research. Our naïve experience consists of objects, their properties
+and changes, existing quite independently of us. It does not matter to
+them and their existence whether or not we see and feel and hear them;
+they remain exactly as they are when we state their properties, when
+we are not present or are occupied in other matters. It was a great
+step when men began to ask how seeing and feeling and hearing occur,
+and it was a revolution when they found that colors and noises and
+smells, etc., were merely products of some of the influences exerted
+on man by his surroundings. Still these surroundings seemed to subsist
+in their primary characteristics and to remain “the real world,” if
+only you subtracted those “secondary qualities” as purely subjective
+ingredients. But finally even the “primary qualities” of naïve realism
+were assimilated to the secondary as subjective. The form, weight and
+movement of the objects of immediate experience were treated as colors
+and sounds, i.e., as functions of the experiencing organism, as end
+results of its complicated processes. And therefore we cannot hold that
+these objects excite the processes, since, according to this point of
+view, their very existence as parts of immediate experience is only a
+consequence of these processes. So the picture of the objective and
+independent _physical world_ of physical things, of physical time,
+of physical movement and physical space, has to be constructed as
+something different from the world-picture of direct experience.
+
+Physical objects, which _as such_ we can neither see nor feel, exert
+upon each other a great variety of physical influences, which _as such_
+similarly do not occur in the world of immediate experience. There is
+one physical object more interesting than all the others but in every
+way as foreign to naïve experience as they are: that is my physical
+body, an astounding system of electromagnetic entities. If the right
+influences be exerted upon this system by other physical objects,
+those processes will occur in it, the consequences of which I know
+as the exterior part of the world of naïve experience, the so-called
+external sensory world. But an enormous amount of physical activity
+is constantly going on inside my body. We have sufficient grounds,
+therefore, to assume that there are still other processes with the
+occurrence of which the _inner_ side of our immediate experience is
+connected: such are the feeling of strain, when I contract the muscles
+of my arm, also that of hunger and fatigue, my “memory image” of Lake
+Michigan, fear and hope and so on, almost _ad infinitum_.
+
+At present we shall not consider _how_ the physicist accomplishes the
+gigantic task of investigating the properties of a world which does not
+appear directly in any part of immediate experience. But there can be
+no doubt concerning the remarkable success of his procedure. Whereas
+the world of naïve man is somewhat confused, revealing its subjective
+character in any critical discussion of its properties, the world of
+the physicist gives short shrift to confusion and contradiction. And
+though we find ourselves surprised by the rapid changes which physical
+theory undergoes in our times, we still have the feeling that progress
+is made with most of these changes. Eventually there will be agreement
+about all the more important properties of the physical world.
+
+For a while psychology was supposed to be the science of the events of
+direct experience, both in its external and its internal aspects, as
+contrasted to physical objects and occurrences.[1] By description of
+direct experience the psychologist hoped to get not only an orderly
+registration of all the possible varieties of such experience, but also
+a great deal of information about the functional relations among these
+events. He even aimed at formulating laws governing the flow of direct
+experience.
+
+The well-known psychological school of behaviorism has leveled
+against the older psychology the criticism that it was misguided
+both with respect to its subject-matter and its aim. It has not been
+possible, according to the behaviorist, to register the varieties
+of direct experience in a convincing manner, nor has anything come
+of the attempt to describe their functional relationships or to
+formulate the laws of so-called “mental life.” In no respect, the
+behaviorist holds, do we have the impression that there exists a real
+and progressive science of direct experience, clear in its methods
+and results. On the contrary, we find endless discussions of minor
+and, less frequently, major items, different psychologists giving
+quite different descriptions of “facts” which are supposed to be more
+or less the same for both of them. Take the example of “images”! One
+psychologist claims to have them in numbers, many of them almost as
+lively and concrete as perceptions. Others tell us that there are no
+real images at all in direct experience and that probably the first
+man was deceived by words or other motor phenomena which correspond to
+objects and facts not actually present in experience. If the famous
+method of “introspection,” i.e., observation of direct experience,[2]
+cannot give better results in such a gross investigation, what shall
+we expect from it when we are confronted by questions of equal or
+even greater importance which are also more subtle and intrinsically
+more difficult? Unfortunately, the adherents of introspection do not
+seem to trust their own procedure. At least they must have agreed
+upon facing important problems as seldom as possible, since they are
+occupied mainly with describing the more remote and less exciting
+corners of experience, as e.g., minor nuances of sensations, or the
+“glassy” appearance of certain parts of space, and so forth. If all I
+have to do to develop the science of direct experience is to describe
+it, why then not attack the central facts of “mental life” at once,
+instead of scratching a little at the surface, or periphery, of it?
+There was a time in Germany, not very long ago, when people began to
+joke about psychology’s ponderous discussion of trifles. And, indeed,
+it was strange to see how the description of a direct experience, what
+happens, for instance, during a single comparison of two tones or
+colors, could fill hundreds of pages without giving us the slightest
+positive idea about how the occurrence and accuracy of such a
+comparison might be explained. Even in a state of perplexity a science
+can be highly interesting. But psychology, so far as it deals with
+direct experience by the method of introspection, has not only been a
+complete failure; it has also become boresome for all those who are not
+professionally connected with it.
+
+And the behaviorist is not slow in giving us reasons why this must
+be so. The meaning of “direct experience,” through opposition to the
+world of physics, becomes associated with concepts like “the mental,”
+“mind” and “soul,” almost without our being aware of this association.
+Thus gradually this term becomes the expression for “spiritual life”
+or the name for the effects of a special mental substance, existing
+independently of the facts of physics and biology. Consequently, all
+the old prejudices and superstitions of religious or metaphysical
+extraction slip into the concept and into the treatment of direct
+experience. The psychologist loses his impartial judgment; what he has
+heard about “mind,” or “soul,” and their miraculous properties since
+the early days of his childhood, creeps into his statements and makes
+“introspection” an ill disguised rhetoric in favor of prescientific
+mythology and medieval darkness.
+
+However, if this were the only argument against introspection, the
+introspectionist might answer that if the behaviorist were right in
+this point, his criticism would not apply to the description of direct
+experience itself, but rather would indicate an accidental source of
+defect in the method. Then, some increase of self-criticism and a
+careful elimination of religious or metaphysical interests in students
+of psychology might be a remedy for these defects, and a very welcome
+gesture towards sober behaviorism at the same time.
+
+But the behaviorist has other reasons for not accepting direct
+experience as a field of scientific research. First of all, as a
+procedure, introspection lacks the chief methodological virtue of
+physical research, a position of observation external to the system
+under observation; on the contrary, it is a special process _in_ this
+system itself, and all chances are against its leaving the “observed”
+parts of the system undisturbed. _Hinc illæ lacrimæ!_ An example of
+this is the attempt to study introspectively the direct experience
+of sorrow and joy; they do not remain the same, but rather tend to
+disappear when the selfsame person who has or had the sorrow and the
+joy must assume the attitude of introspection.
+
+But even supposing that this difficulty might be overcome by some
+scarcely imaginable improvement of the method, we still should
+find it useless, the behaviorist argues, because of its miserable
+and inevitable subjectivity. What is the first characteristic of
+an objective statement as the result of an objective scientific
+procedure? That whoever happens to be interested in it can be obliged
+to understand it in one determinate meaning, if only you give him exact
+definitions of the terms you are using in your statement. So we define
+the atomic weight or the atomic number of an element, so analogy and
+homology of morphological structures, and there is no physicist or
+biologist who does not know the exact significance of those words.
+If now you listen to psychologists talking, let us say, about the
+“confusion” which they observe in peripheral vision, what exact meaning
+can be conveyed by this word so long as it is not fixed by definition?
+A real definition, however, seems to be impossible wherever one has to
+do with the ultimate data of direct experience. If you are asked for
+the definition of “confusion,” you may attempt to define it negatively,
+say in terms of “lack of clearness.” But that does not help you very
+much, since your friend will then ask what you mean by “clearness.”
+You may tell him that a rather high degree of clearness is a normal
+property of the central parts of a simple and orderly visual field. But
+such a field might have more than one normal property and you did not
+give a _differentia specifica_ in your pseudo definition, in addition
+to which the words “simple” and “orderly” need definition as badly as
+did “confusion” and “clearness.” In any case, you have now resorted
+to the only thing which seems feasible where, as in this field of
+direct experience, a true definition cannot be achieved, viz., a kind
+of _demonstration_. You do not define your term, but you give your
+friend a hint about what conditions are necessary in order to have
+the specific kind of direct experience about which you are talking.
+Supposing that he understands the words by which you describe those
+conditions, there is some chance now that he may attach your undefined
+term to the precise phase of his actual direct experience that your use
+of the term intended. But what a crude and altogether vague procedure
+this is, if you compare it with the elegant definitions of the exact
+sciences!
+
+And still we have supposed that, given the same conditions, your
+friend, who cannot make statements about any direct experience
+except _his own_, must find in it the same properties, objects and
+occurrences, which you have found in _your_ direct experience. You
+cannot, as the physicists seem to do, make your two statements about
+one and the same event, neither do you make readings from one and the
+same apparatus or scale. You have _two_ events in _two_ experiences.
+What is your evidence for assuming that under the same conditions the
+ultimate data of experience are the same for both of you? Unfortunately
+you shall never know whether this is the case or not. On one hand,
+color blindness and similar phenomena show conclusively that such
+an identity does not exist; on the other, you have no proof of that
+identity even in those cases where all the tests you might imagine
+give the same description, i.e., the verbal report you both make. Your
+friend may report “red” where you say “red.” Still you do not know
+more than that your friend always has the _same_ quality wherever and
+whenever you have your “red,” without knowing at all that he has _just
+that_ quality which you call “red.” Neither does it help you to a real
+identification of qualities in the two direct experiences that what he
+calls “red” seems to have (more or less) the same “stimulating” value
+as you find verified in your own description, because you will see at
+once that he may use the same term “stimulating” in quite a different
+meaning, so that he does not have the same kind of experience when he
+uses it.
+
+This is subjectivity in its extreme form. If every one has his own
+direct experience and if he is forever excluded from that of all other
+persons, direct experience is the private affair of each of us, and
+with respect to it a common science cannot possibly be achieved.
+Indeed, so little can be derived from the direct experience of one man,
+concerning similar experiences in others, that, in epistemology, it has
+become a truism that I shall never know whether or not there exists
+any “direct experience” at all even in my best friend. Whatever I see
+or hear when we talk together is a part of _my_ experience. Certainly,
+what I call his attitude, or his voice, in my experience, is determined
+by physical events in the muscles and in the nervous system, etc.,
+of his physical body. It is not only possible but even necessary to
+understand these physical events from the viewpoint of pure physics
+or physiology. Consequently, there is no proof that some of these
+processes in my friend are accompanied by “direct experience” in him.
+
+The behaviorist might add to this criticism that he does not deny
+the great contributions which, before his time, the older forms of
+psychology have made to the advancement of this science. But he will
+say that, looking upon those achievements from the present point of
+view, one will easily discover a simple fact: viz., that nearly all of
+them are to the credit not of introspection and description but of the
+“objective experiment.” The meaning of this word may be explained as
+follows: Instead of making a subject observe and describe his direct
+experience in a given case, we place him in a well-defined situation
+to which he has to react by certain performances. These we can state
+and measure without his giving us any description of his experience.
+So Weber’s law was discovered; this was the kind of experiment by
+which Fechner made psychology an experimental science; memory and the
+formation of habits were investigated by research of this type with
+almost no introspection; and since Binet and Simon we have learned to
+treat intelligence in the same manner. If we are not mistaken, even the
+introspectionist gives us “descriptions” of colors and tones, pleasure
+and volition, only so long as he has not found a method by which he
+might transform them through objective experiments into measurable
+achievements or reactions. The introspectionist himself seems to accept
+the “descriptive” observation of a fellow introspectionist, according
+to the measure in which the other has been able to give objective
+experiments as a verification and corroboration of his descriptions.
+What, then, is the use of “direct experience” and its description?
+
+From their common criticism all behaviorists do not draw quite the
+same conclusions about “direct experience.” None of them, it is true,
+find direct experience a matter of interest for science, since as the
+private affair of those who have such experience it is not accessible
+to the objective observation undertaken by others, as it ought to
+be were it a proper object of scientific research. A few members
+of the school seem to go so far as to deny the existence of direct
+experience altogether; they simply abominate the notion. But these
+minor differences of opinion are of no importance for us, because
+in the question of _method_ all behaviorists have not only the same
+negative but also the same positive opinion. Their program is a simple
+consequence of the foregoing argument. In his objective experiment the
+psychologist has tacitly accepted the procedure of the exact sciences,
+even if he has not become fully aware of the difference in principle
+which separates this attitude from that of introspection. Both the
+physicist and the chemist are interested in knowing how a system
+which they are investigating will react when exposed to a certain
+set of conditions; they also ask how the reaction will change with a
+variation of those conditions. Both questions are answered by objective
+observation, registration and measurement. This is exactly the form of
+real experimentation in psychology, too: a subject of a certain type
+(child, adult, man, woman, animal) is the system to be investigated;
+certain conditions are given and objectively controlled; the most
+important of these we call “the stimuli”; and a reaction occurs which
+is observed quite objectively.
+
+The only thing which psychologists need, then, is to recognize,
+generally and in principle, that this form of procedure is the only
+possible one, and also that it is precisely the same as that of all
+other exact sciences. Behavior, i.e., the reaction of a living system,
+is its only subject-matter, and behavior in no way includes any direct
+experience. In the experimental work of the future, even the highest
+forms of behavior will be studied and described in purely objective
+terms. They _must_ be, since personal, direct experience does not occur
+at a single point in the whole experiment. For some this truth is
+somewhat hidden by the fact that in most of our experiments language
+reactions are of a special importance. If the experimenter himself
+enjoys what he calls direct experience and if this experience includes
+a great many things associated with words, he will be inclined to
+take the words of his subject as signs of similar direct experience
+on his part. Nevertheless, the words are registered as responses
+of the subject, and as such are purely objective, physical facts,
+produced by certain processes in the larynx and the mouth of the
+subject. Though the experimenter knows that other objective processes
+(of innervation, inhibition, and so forth) will have occurred before
+these sound waves are produced by the action of muscles, he will
+never be able to decide, according to our analysis, whether there was
+any direct experience accompanying those inner processes. Perhaps
+we should discipline ourselves to a less frequent use of language
+reactions in our experiments, until finally we overcome the danger of
+associating language with direct experience, and introspection will
+have disappeared from psychology as an exact science.
+
+Of course, not all the reactions of the subject are observed with
+equal facility in the objective manner. Sometimes even strong
+stimulation will not produce any overt behavior which can be registered
+externally with our present methods. But in the majority of these cases
+the physiologist can give us highly valuable information about the
+functioning of the autonomic part of the nervous system and about the
+subsequent reactions which occur in the most important visceral organs,
+including the endocrine glands. One of the main tasks of psychology
+will be to develop and to adapt the physiological techniques until
+these visceral reactions can be registered with perfect ease under the
+conditions of behavioristic experimentation. We also have some evidence
+for assuming that, in addition to the reactions just mentioned,
+so-called “thinking” consists in slight innervations of the muscles
+concerned in speech reactions.
+
+               *       *       *       *       *
+
+So far I hope that I have given a fair statement of the opinions which
+prevail among behaviorists. It ought to be the more correct, since I
+sympathize with these opinions in several points, most of all in the
+criticism of “introspection.” Indeed, much of current introspection
+seems to be rather sterile and, in an odd contrast to its ambitions,
+to lead research away from the more urgent problems. Whether this be
+an intrinsic property of introspection or merely a consequence of some
+accidental mistake usually associated with it, we shall discuss later
+on.
+
+At present, we have a simpler problem before us. In the natural
+sciences, so the behaviorist tells us, methods deal with objective
+reality, whereas in the treatment of direct experience--if there
+is such a thing--they deal with something entirely subjective. Is
+that true? Is that the real reason why natural science has won the
+admiration of the world and psychology is still in an embryonic state?
+I cannot admit it. It seems to me that, starting with an admirable
+enthusiasm for exactness, behaviorism has been misled completely at
+this point and that, consequently, the energy spent by behaviorism in
+its fight against “direct experience” and “consciousness” has been
+spent in the wrong direction. So, at least, the situation appears to me
+because, whatever may have happened to the keen leaders of behaviorism
+in their individual development, I must give the following report about
+myself. It is a well-known story, but some psychologists seem to have
+forgotten it.
+
+There cannot be the slightest doubt for me that, as a child, I had
+“direct experience” before I even dreamed of a world like that of
+physics. Of course, I did not know that term then, which could acquire
+its meaning later on only by the very fact that the world of physics
+became opposed to it. There were innumerable varieties of experiences
+appearing as “objective,” i.e., as existing or occurring independently
+and externally. There were other experiences which belonged to me
+personally and privately, and insofar were “subjective,” such
+as, among others, dreadful fear upon certain occasions, and an
+overwhelming, warm happiness at Christmas.
+
+In the following chapters we shall be occupied mainly with “objective
+experience.” This term, however, may be misinterpreted rather easily.
+So I shall try to specify its meaning a little more. Doing so, I shall
+even run the risk of repeating some arguments several times, because
+this is the point where most of our difficulties arise.
+
+The name “experience” seems to indicate that, though appearing as
+“objective,” those things and events were felt by me as “being given in
+my perception” and therefore as “subjective.” Certainly, they were not.
+They simply _were there outside_, and at that time I had no suspicion
+whatever of their being the effects of something else upon “me.” I
+must go further. There was not even a question of their depending upon
+my presence; upon my keeping my eyes open, and so forth. When I went
+around an object it remained the same identical thing. So absolutely
+“objective” were those objects and events, that there was no place left
+for a more objective world. Even now, this “objectivity” is still so
+strong and natural, that I am constantly tempted to attribute to the
+interior of these self-same “things” all those properties which, in the
+meantime, physics has taught me to attribute to objects of the physical
+world. When, in these pages, I talk about “direct experience” of
+the “objective” type, the word is always used in this meaning: e.g.,
+a chair as something there outside, hard, stable, brown, generally
+without any taint of “being perceived” by me, of being “a subjective
+phenomenon.”
+
+  In some cases, it is true, the discrimination between the
+  “objective” and the “subjective” side of direct experience may
+  become dubious: as with after-images or with the prick of a needle
+  in my finger. That does not make the discrimination less important
+  in itself. In physics the discrimination of the conducting
+  substances from insulators remains of high value, though between
+  the extremes we find a great many intermediate cases. For us, the
+  main point is the fact that in “things” and their “movements,”
+  etc., an almost unsurpassable degree of “objectivity” is reached.
+
+At the time when I began to understand physics I did not learn only
+about the physical world. Another lesson was necessarily connected with
+studying physics, and it was this lesson that gave the term “direct
+experience” its connotation or, better, which introduced me to a manner
+of thinking that made the meaning of “direct experience” clear. The
+physical world could not be the same as that “objective” world which
+I had had around me the whole time. Certain physical objects were
+found to influence a particularly interesting physical body, viz., my
+physical organism, and what has been called “objective” experience
+here, was shown to depend upon subsequent and very complicated
+processes in that physical organism. Though that influence, exerted by
+other physical objects, starts these processes in the organism, there
+is no possibility of identifying the final product, “things” and their
+“changes” as I have them in immediate experience, with those physical
+objects from which the influences came. If a wound is not the gun which
+emitted the projectile, then the “thing” which I have before me, which
+I see and feel, cannot be identical with the corresponding physical
+object. This object, influencing my physical organism, produces certain
+disturbances in it, _the final outcome_ of which is the “thing” before
+me in direct experience.[3]
+
+Such “things,” however, were the first items _I knew_. Therefore, a
+picture of the physical world had to be _constructed_ after I once
+appreciated the necessity of it. Hence it is built up by inference as
+something found indirectly or mediately; and, _in contrast to it_, the
+world around me, as I had it before and still have it, quite apart from
+the physicist’s construction, is now called the world of direct, or
+immediate, experience.
+
+But how can I say that a “chair,” for example, is an “objective
+experience” if I must admit that it depends upon certain processes in
+my organism? Does not the chair become “subjective” then? It does and
+it does not. At this very moment the meaning of our terms has changed.
+In the last paragraphs “objective” has denoted a certain experienced
+property which some parts of my direct experience, in contrast to other
+experiences, possess _as such_ (exactly as they have size, color,
+hardness and so forth); the term “subjective” in _this_ paragraph means
+their genetic dependence upon my physical organism. “Subjectivity,” in
+this latter meaning, is not itself a directly experienced property,
+but a relationship which we ascribe to “objective” experiences after
+we have learnt to regard them as the outcome of organic processes
+and, therefore, as distinct from the physical reality external to the
+physical organism. Sometimes the two connotations of the term are
+confused in the most deplorable manner as though what is “subjective”
+genetically ought also to be “subjective” in experience. So most
+introspectionists seem to think that, properly speaking, the chair
+before me must be a subjective phenomenon _in experience_, appearing
+“before me” only in consequence of some illusion. And since there is
+no “subjective” chair to be discovered, the behaviorist derides the
+introspectionist for dwelling in a world of imaginary ghosts. The
+simple truth is that some of the experiences depending upon processes
+in my physical organism have the character of “objectivity,” whereas
+others, depending upon other processes in the same organism, have
+a “subjective” character, this contrast being something altogether
+indifferent to the _genetic_ “subjectivity” of _both_ types of
+processes and experiences, as depending upon the physical organism.
+After this, I hope that no misunderstanding of the term “objective
+experience” will be possible. When I talk about “a chair,” the chair
+of my everyday life is meant and not some “subjective phenomenon” to
+be observed perhaps by highly trained introspectionists, but utterly
+unknown to me.
+
+On the other hand, we have seen that we cannot identify the chair of
+“objective experience” with the chair as a part of the physicist’s
+world. Under these circumstances, the world of direct experience being
+the first I had, and since all that I know about the physical world
+being inferred later on from the properties of the experienced world,
+how can I deny this experienced world which, for me, is the only basis
+upon which I can continue to guess about physical realities? No one
+can prevent me from thinking, if I choose, that after all the physical
+world may be the more important and more essential one. But even then
+I must confess that the other world has existed first and always
+_for me_, and that I still can see no other way of discovering the
+properties of physical reality but by observing “objective experiences”
+and drawing my conclusions about the physical world from them. With
+future progress of physiology I may become able to discover even the
+nervous processes underlying my “observing” and “guessing” and so be
+able to give a physical theory of these events. But even then, since
+the world of physiology is part of the physical world and _as such_ is
+not directly accessible to me, any progress whatever along this line
+will depend upon my observing what I call a body or a nervous system
+as parts of “direct experience.” It may be otherwise for behaviorists,
+so that the physical (and physiological) world _as such_ is directly
+known to them, and that for them the term “known” has nothing to do
+with direct experience. But that cannot change my report about my
+own case in which affairs are as I have described them. It is in the
+terms of this description that I must decide whether I shall become a
+behaviorist or not.
+
+What then about the behaviorist’s statement that observation in physics
+deals with objective reality whereas, in the treatment of direct
+experience, it deals with something subjective?
+
+Let me describe my own procedure when I investigate the physical
+properties of a physical object. Is there any considerable amount of
+H_{4}C_{2}O_{2} in a given mixture of chemical substances? I know
+about these substances by the corresponding “objective experience”
+before me, and I find the positive answer to the question by smelling,
+i.e., in direct experience. This being a rather crude procedure, let
+us consider a case of fine measurement. What is the intensity of an
+electric current which, under certain conditions, must exist in a given
+wire? The position of a needle on the scale of a definite apparatus
+will tell me, but it will tell me in direct optical experience, the
+whole apparatus being an “objective” part of my actual experience,
+exactly as the wire and the given set of conditions must manifest
+themselves either as parts of direct experience or by a sufficient
+testimony of their existence in some part of experience which I have
+learnt to regard as a sign for them. And this is true of all possible
+objective statements or measurements which I shall ever be able to make
+in physics. They are statements about my actual objective experiences
+in these different cases. I shall never be able to make a direct
+statement about a physical event _as such_. Therefore my observation of
+physical facts will always remain of the same kind in principle as that
+of an after-image, or of the “confusion” which I find so characteristic
+of peripheral vision, or of my feeling healthy. Therefore, the
+exactness of my physical observation cannot depend upon my avoidance of
+“direct experience” in physics. I do not avoid it, for I cannot avoid
+it. Yet the procedure _works_. _Some_ observations of direct experience
+must then be an adequate basis for science.
+
+If all the concrete statements which I can make in physical research
+are observations of direct experience, there are some inevitable
+consequences. How do I define my terms as a physicist? Since my
+knowledge of physics consists entirely of concepts and observations
+derived from or contained in direct experience, all the terms which I
+use in discussing physical problems must refer either to concepts or
+observations or, more probably, complicated combinations of the two--in
+any case, products of my direct experience. If I try to define them,
+my definitions must refer to other concepts or observations, and so
+forth. A gestural denotation toward the locus of the phenomena about
+which I am talking, as, for instance, a hint where to make certain
+observations or have certain direct experiences, will be the ultimate
+step in any process of definition I may attempt. Even the most abstract
+concepts of physics, as, for example, that of entropy, can have no
+meaning without a reference, indirect though it may be, to truly direct
+experiences. I shall never be able to give a definition of my terms in
+physics or to understand a definition given by others, which, in this
+respect, differs in principle from what I may use as a definition in
+psychology. Nevertheless the method of physics is successful. I never
+have difficulty with definitions when I talk with physicists about
+their science. Hence some definitions, or hints about cases of direct
+experience, must be sufficiently safe for exact science. Therefore the
+exactness of my definitions in physics cannot be the result of their
+being independent of “direct experience,” for they are not independent.
+
+But the behaviorist tells me that observation of my direct experience
+is a private affair of mine, whereas in physics, two physicists
+can make the same observation on the same galvanometer. I deny the
+truth of this statement. If another man observes the galvanometer,
+he observes something other than the galvanometer as a physical
+object, since the object of his observation is the result of certain
+organic processes, determined by the physical galvanometer. Again,
+the galvanometer I am observing is the final result of a different
+series of processes occurring in _my_ physical organism. By no means
+do we “observe the same instrument” then, though physically both
+series of processes are started by the same physical object. Still,
+our statements about our observations seem to agree so well in a great
+many cases, that we do not discuss the question very much, whether
+there is an absolute philosophical proof for sufficient similarity
+between my galvanometer and his. Again the procedure works. Since I,
+at least, do not know about a galvanometer except through “objective
+experience,” and yet almost all the statements which the other man
+makes agree with my statements, the privacy of direct experience does
+not disturb us at all--in physics. Again, in principle, there is no
+difference here between physics and psychology. All physicists,
+when working with others in such a case, are convinced naïvely that
+their fellow-physicists “have a galvanometer before them,” and that
+their observations refer to it. In this sense they assume that their
+fellow-workers have a very definite “objective experience,” highly
+similar to their own experience, and they quite naïvely understand the
+words of their colleagues as statements about that experience. That,
+however, is allowing private affairs in exact science. It does not seem
+to disturb scientific procedure, as it does not disturb the affairs of
+everyday life, wherein it is the most general and natural occurrence.
+In certain cases, therefore, belief in the “direct experience” of
+others must be innocent and is not a hindrance to scientific progress.
+If psychology does not make rapid advancement, the reason for it cannot
+be that belief as such.
+
+There remains one consequence of the elementary fact that observation
+in physics involves observation of direct experience. As a physicist,
+observing my apparatus, I do not fear that my activity as an observer
+has any serious or distorting influence upon the essential properties
+of what I observe, if only I keep myself, as a physical system, at
+a certain distance from the apparatus, as another physical system.
+Now, as direct experiences both the apparatus to be observed and my
+“activity” of observing depend upon processes in the same system, viz.,
+my physical organism. Again the behaviorist must be wrong when he
+declares that, because of the fact just mentioned, direct experience
+can not be observed scientifically, since in this case of observation
+in physics, the situation is similar: the material to be observed and
+the process of observing belong to the same system. Thus we see that
+the physicist and the psychologist are in exactly the same situation
+in this respect. It does not matter at all whether I call myself a
+physicist or a psychologist in observing a galvanometer. In both cases
+my observation is directed towards the same “objective experience.” The
+procedure works in physics. Why not in psychology? There must be some
+cases in which my observation of direct experience does not disturb the
+observed facts seriously.
+
+This argument contains in itself a most remarkable limitation of the
+range of its own application. It does not mean at all, that all forms
+of so-called introspection are justified, even less does it mean that
+_generally_ the products of so-called introspection are independent
+of introspection. Here the critical position of behaviorism has
+exaggerated the scope of a fair argument and unjustly applied it to
+_all_ statements about direct experience, although the critical point
+is thoroughly justified in a great many cases.
+
+I have described how, as a physicist, I must deal with direct
+experience. Evidently some epistemological difficulties with respect
+to the objectivity of procedure in that science may be derived from
+that description by a very extreme purist, as the behaviorist seems
+to be. But, fortunately, those dilemmas had not yet been discovered,
+when in the time of Galileo, Newton and Huyghens the first really
+important steps were made in physics. Those great investigators carried
+on, pragmatically naïve and happily undisturbed by a “behaviorism” of
+physics which might have impeded or blocked the whole development for
+the sake of “epistemological purity.” Somehow the procedure has worked
+in spite of the fact that logically, perhaps, it is not possible to
+certify it as absolutely objective. Sciences which wish to carry on
+their researches and be productive often show a certain healthy disdain
+of such scruples. It might be better for psychology, too, if, after
+listening to a very wholesome critical lesson from behaviorism, it
+returns to undertaking productive work with some naïveté, using all
+possible means which yield results.
+
+As a scientific attitude the Homeric assault of behaviorists against
+“direct experience,” “consciousness” and so forth, appears very strange
+to me. They do not generally show an undue interest in epistemological
+considerations. It is just _one_ question which suddenly arouses their
+interest: How can I know about the direct experience of others? I shall
+never have a definite proof of the validity of such knowledge. But
+physics, that is another matter! There we are safe! The behaviorist,
+however, forgets that it is a truism in epistemology that I shall
+never be able to “prove” conclusively the existence of an independent
+physical world. As an extreme purist I might argue this point exactly
+as the behaviorist disputes the assumption of direct experience in
+others. Somehow it does not occur to the behaviorist to apply his
+epistemological criticism to the assumption of the physical world. He
+does not say: Thou shalt not work upon a physical world, the existence
+of which will always remain a mere assumption. On the contrary, he
+assumes its reality with all the healthy naïveté which he lacks in
+psychology. The reason is, perhaps, that the achievements of physical
+science are imposing and have become the ideal of behaviorism. But
+to the mind of a methodological purist that cannot be taken as a
+satisfactory proof of the existence of the physical world. Of course,
+personally and practically I am as convinced of its existence as any
+behaviorist has ever been, and I am fully aware of the fact that
+sciences may and must believe and postulate, where the epistemologist,
+if he likes, may doubt. But then I shall believe and postulate the
+direct experience of others, as well as the existence of physical
+entities, if this makes my procedure simpler and more productive. And
+I feel the more justified in this attitude, since I have seen that all
+work I may do in physics is founded on direct experience and that,
+therefore, the enormous superiority of physics over psychology in
+accomplishment, cannot follow from any differences in this respect.
+
+At this moment I see the behaviorist smiling ironically: With all his
+medieval philosophy Mr. Köhler will never make any progress against
+the sound scientific basis of behaviorism. I answer that this basis
+of behaviorism is as philosophical as anything could be: it is purely
+epistemological. In this connection the only difference between the
+behaviorist and me is one of completeness: the behaviorist sees a
+single theorem of epistemology and, as an extreme purist, he dwells
+exclusively on this one point, ignoring the context from which it has
+been taken. I am aware of this context; it is stated in the foregoing
+argument; and I find myself therefore opposed to behaviorism, or any
+other one-sided and impractical purism in science.
+
+
+BIBLIOGRAPHY
+
+  W. S. Hunter: _Human Behavior_. 1928.
+
+  K. Koffka: _The Growth of the Mind_. 1924. 2nd edition, 1928.
+
+  J. B. Watson: in _Psychologies of 1925_ (ed. by C. Murchison).
+
+  A. P. Weiss: _A Theoretical Basis of Human Behavior_. 1925.
+
+
+
+
+II
+
+_Psychology as a Young Science_
+
+
+IN the first chapter I became slightly autobiographical in order to
+show why I have found it impossible to become a behaviorist. If I am
+ever to become one, some adherent of that school will have to effect
+the conversion. I do not myself see the way.
+
+So far direct experience has been shown to be the raw material of both
+physics and psychology. If despite this fact the physical sciences are
+so far ahead of psychology in their development, what shall be our
+method of imitating their achievements?
+
+Contemporary physics has a real advantage in the careful selection of
+the experiences which play a decisive rôle in the crucial moments of
+physical research. Of course, the physicist ignores all “_subjective_
+experience,” as defined in the previous chapter, as far as possible,
+because apparently it has nothing to do with the properties of the
+physical world. All the difficulties of psychologists who try to
+observe and describe subjective experience are simply avoided by the
+physical sciences.
+
+But the selection and exclusion does not stop there. If most
+“objective experience” was taken as evidence of physical existences
+and physical events in early investigations, a more critical view of
+the situation tended to eliminate large parts of this material as
+well. The process of selection has become particularly severe, since
+the advancement of science has made it possible almost everywhere
+to transform qualitative observation into quantitative measurement.
+At the present time almost all physical measurements are made in an
+extremely indirect way. We do not observe an experienced counterpart of
+the physical variable in question; we observe a related but different
+object the virtue of which is that it lends itself to more exact
+statement and is shown, or supposed, to be in a well-known functional
+relationship to the physical variable. Of all possible objective
+experience nothing seems better to fulfill the requirements of the
+physicist than the localization of a single line (a needle) on a scale
+of other lines, especially if this localization becomes the coincidence
+of the first line (needle) with one of the others (or inclusion between
+two which are near to each other). The range of direct experiences
+used in measurement has now reached a minimum value, indeed. It almost
+seems as if the same scale and the same needle were used universally;
+it tells a hundred altogether different stories about the physical
+world. It means “atmospheres” or “volts,” or “ampères” or “temperature”
+and so forth, as the case may be. In addition to observing a definite
+coincidence, and controlling the connection of the apparatus with the
+system to be investigated, the physicist has only to recognize certain
+words and figures on the scale. That is all the direct experience which
+enters into the procedure. There is not much opportunity for serious
+blundering. Even so simple a property as physical size is not measured
+directly. No physicist measures the length of an object by comparing it
+with the experienced length of a standard object directly. That would
+not be accurate enough. Rather he prefers the method of coinciding
+lines or points. Defining physical length by this method, he measures
+the length of a line by observing the coincidence of its ends with
+certain points on a scale.
+
+If now we ask ourselves whether we shall imitate the procedure of the
+physical sciences in psychology, two answers are to be given to our
+question, because that procedure has two aspects. In the first place,
+the procedure involves making statements about physical systems by
+means of objective experience. As the behavior of men and animals
+is observed in our objective experience--the direct experience of
+the _subjects_ not playing any rôle in the matter--such a study is
+perfectly legitimate and undoubtedly will be much more extended in
+the future. Though it existed before the days of behaviorism, this
+school is fundamentally right in praising the advantages of objective
+procedure as against prevailing introspection. Although behaviorists
+have gone too far through failing to appreciate that, even in the
+objective method, direct experience remains the raw material as “the
+objective experience” of an observer, their error is of no practical
+importance as long as the second part of their answer to our question
+is proper. Unfortunately, behaviorism has here tended to take the wrong
+position.
+
+As we have seen, in present physics objective procedure is
+characterized by the use of a small group of selected experiences
+and, consequently, by the exclusion of the great variety of objective
+experience, the exclusion being made to satisfy the requirements of
+quantitative measurement. Shall we do the same thing in psychology
+as a science of behavior? Evidently that will depend upon the nature
+of behavior itself. It is difficult to judge about a method as such.
+A method is not good or bad in itself. It is good if it is properly
+adapted to the essential aspects of my problems and my material;
+and it is bad if it lacks regard for those essentials or misdirects
+research. Therefore, what has been shown to be an excellent procedure
+in one science or for some problems may be altogether useless or
+even a hindrance in another science or for other problems. In this
+respect, behavior is easily seen to have distinctly different phases
+and to give the psychologist different tasks correspondingly. Wherever
+indirect and quantitative methods can be applied in conformity
+with the task, they should be applied. Since C. P. Richter and his
+collaborators at the Phipps Psychiatric Clinic have now discovered a
+way in which the various drives of animals, and their temporal changes,
+can be investigated by registering amounts of general or of special
+activity,[4] we shall be keenly interested in the future development of
+the method. It is the correct procedure in cases in which total amounts
+of activity in relation to outer and inner conditions can yield us
+valuable information.
+
+But what about other cases where either our problems are not of the
+quantitative type or we have no way as yet to transfer our observations
+from the direct experiences with which we are concerned to a special
+region, indirectly connected with the first, but better adapted to
+finely accurate statement and registration? Obviously, qualitative
+types of behavior are not less important than quantitative differences
+of some sort. Where we know about the qualitative varieties which
+occur in behavior and where, in a concrete case, we are sure about
+the special type before us under observation, we may be interested
+in finding ways of quantitative measurement. But the discrimination
+of qualitative types must be primarily accomplished. During the
+observation of a puppy under a given set of conditions, this important
+question will frequently arise: whether certain behavior of the animal
+represents playful activity or “serious” reaction to the situation.
+Such a question does not imply “consciousness” in the puppy; it refers
+to some very characteristic differences in what is being objectively
+observed. The difference is one of “quality” of behavior. Again, while
+observing a man in a somewhat critical situation, it may be decisive to
+observe whether he talks to us in a “steady” or in a “shaky” voice. At
+the present time this is necessarily a qualitative discrimination; even
+should we find in the future a method to measure the steadiness of a
+voice, this method would forever presuppose that in direct observation
+we know what is meant by unsteadiness as a definite characteristic of
+the voice.
+
+In a similar way, we are restricted in the application of indirect
+methods to many other forms of behavior. I take it that the
+behaviorists hold that we can investigate the “emotional behavior”
+of subjects without being involved with their “consciousness” or
+“subjective experience.” Certainly, psychologists have tried to
+transfer observation in this case to a region of more accurate
+registration and measurement. Much work has been done to develop
+pneumographic, plethysmographic, galvanographic methods, and so forth.
+The result is not altogether encouraging, however; for again, our
+interpretation of the curves recorded by all these apparatus depends
+greatly upon simultaneous _direct_ observation; by no means do we
+feel justified to draw conclusions from the curves alone. All these
+procedures seem to be more problematic in themselves at the present
+time than an aid for the solution of psychological problems. In most
+cases it is easier to see “anger” directly in a subject’s attitude than
+to state and measure, let us say, the adrenin in his blood.
+
+Why does this difficulty beset behavioristic psychology, and not occur
+in physics? The answer is simple enough: Physics is an old science and
+psychology is in its infancy. Over centuries physicists have succeeded
+in eliminating a great many forms of more direct and qualitative
+observation, relying upon a small number of indirect and very accurate
+observations as decisive in experimentation. Their success depended
+on previously acquired knowledge about the physical world. Most
+indirect methods and sound measurement presuppose a vast background of
+knowledge. Qualitative observation, experimentation and analysis have
+provided the primary knowledge which enabled the physicist to discover
+where he could measure an important factor, and what physical relation
+makes an indirect observation capable of indicating occurrences not
+well observable directly. Oersted had to discover the deflection of
+a magnet in the neighborhood of an electric current before exact
+measurement of intensities of current became possible. His was a
+qualitative, direct observation; indirect and quantitative procedure
+was the fruit of it. Even in our days, Röntgen did not _measure_ at the
+start of his investigation of X-rays. He had to discover and to analyze
+their properties in qualitative experimentation first of all. Later on
+his rays could become a means of measuring the constants of crystals.
+Too easily do we forget the simple truth that in their origins as well
+as at the opening of a new field of special investigation later on,
+the natural sciences, physics, geology, biology, rely upon qualitative
+statements almost completely. Certainly, the quantitative and the
+accurate indirect methods are the most imposing features of exact
+sciences _now_ when we review them or consider them superficially. But
+we ought to be aware of the fact that in most cases this procedure is
+a mere refinement and end result of the underlying free and direct
+observation, without which there would not have been a basis upon
+which to build the refined superstructure. In the eighteenth century
+Cavendish measured the resistances of different materials by comparing
+the shocks he received in his arm when conductors of those materials
+were used to connect him with a battery, the other pole of which was in
+his other hand! Was that improper? On the contrary, it was perfectly
+sound in a young science, which was trying to find that first knowledge
+of facts upon which more refined methods may afterwards be founded.
+
+From this it follows that where we have a good quantitative problem
+in psychology and an accurate method of measuring and registering, as
+in the case of Richter’s excellent experiments, we can immediately
+apply the quantitative and indirect procedure, as used in physics. The
+problems which Galileo attacked in the seventeenth century could be
+solved quantitatively at once, the qualitative experience of everyday
+life having sufficiently provided the necessary basis. But for the
+majority of psychological problems this is not the case. Where do
+we have that first more or less qualitative knowledge of important
+functional relationships in psychology which might become the basis
+for indirect and exact measurement? It does not exist. Since the
+development of more “exact” methods presupposes its existence, our
+main task must be the gathering of that knowledge. In most cases
+our preliminary advance in this direction will have to be crude and
+qualitative. Whoever protests that conclusion in the name of purism
+does not understand our actual situation in psychology; he sees neither
+the nature of, nor the historical background prerequisite for, special
+quantitative methods. If we wish to imitate the physical sciences,
+we must not imitate them in their contemporary, most developed form;
+we must imitate them in their historical youth, when their state of
+development was comparable to our own at the present time. Otherwise
+we should behave like boys who try to copy the imposing manners of
+full-grown men without understanding their _raison d’être_, also
+without seeing that in development one cannot jump over intermediate
+and preliminary phases. A survey of the history of physics is certainly
+illuminating. Let us imitate the natural sciences, but intelligently!
+
+Behavior is enormously rich in forms and nuances. Only acknowledging
+this wealth, and studying it directly as it is given in all its
+fascinating varieties, shall we become able gradually to find those
+forms of more quantitative, and perhaps more accurate, procedure
+which may become as adequate for us as are the methods of physics in
+its realm. At present, and in this broader historical perspective,
+qualitative observation and analysis may be, in a sense, more exact,
+i.e., adequate to our subject-matter, than much blind measurement. We
+shall press forward towards more refined methods, of course; but owing
+to our situation as beginners, we can go forward only through the use
+of less refined methods for the time being.
+
+  If organisms were more similar to the systems investigated in
+  physics, a great many methods of the physicist might be introduced
+  in our science exactly as the physicist uses them. But the
+  similarity is not very considerable, practically. One of the
+  greatest advantages which makes the physicist’s work so much
+  easier, is the simplicity of his systems. And his systems are
+  simple because in physics the experimenter determines their main
+  properties himself. He prepares them, more or less. I am far from
+  believing that organic processes are of a supernatural kind. On
+  the contrary, the most startling difference between the organism
+  and a simple system investigated by the physicist is the enormous
+  number of physical and chemical processes which, depending upon
+  each other in the most intricate manner, occur in the organism
+  simultaneously. And we are utterly unable to create simple organic
+  systems for elementary study. An amœba is a more complicated
+  system than all known systems of the inorganic world. We also know
+  that, in studying the properties of a nerve-muscle-preparation,
+  we are not investigating “a part” of natural behavior; because,
+  physiologically, its properties are not only simpler but also
+  radically different in some respects from what they would be if the
+  same nerve and muscle were contributing to normal behavior. It is
+  the _whole_ organism, as some behaviorists have rightly said, the
+  behavior of which is our subject-matter. But in the whole organism
+  one can seldom follow the change of one variable alone as the
+  consequence of one change in outer conditions. The change of one
+  factor usually involves concomitant changes in a great many others
+  and these affect the first retroactively. Now, isolation of changes
+  and reduction of variables are the great artifices by which the
+  physicist makes exact measurement possible in his simple systems.
+  Since this procedure does not work in our case, since we have to
+  take the organism more or less as it is, any kind of observation
+  that gives us an expression of its total attitude and activity, of
+  the integrated tendencies and states which it undergoes, will be
+  the right observation to begin with. Such is typical behavior as
+  we see (or hear) it before us, changing, with the conditions we
+  give our subject, in innumerable phases, and much too attractive
+  to be already excluded for the sake of narrowing ideals, taken
+  prematurely from quite another field of research.
+
+In the meantime, however, the outward aspect of physics has been too
+seductive. Since experimental psychology first became a science, every
+now and then a wave of blind imitation has swept it off its feet.
+Fechner himself was the first to copy _adult_ physics when psychology
+was an embryo. He seems to have been convinced that measuring in itself
+would make a science out of psychology. We have seen the result: If
+flowers are impossible without a root and a stem, measuring, which is
+fruitful only as the most refined consequence of previous qualitative
+observation and experimentation, necessarily becomes a dead routine
+without it. Hundreds of thousands of quantitative psychophysical
+experiments have been made almost in vain, because no one knew just
+what he was measuring or what were the processes upon which the whole
+procedure was built. In Fechner’s own day, however, psychology came
+into existence as a science, not as a result of his psychophysics, but
+rather casually and _in spite_ of the premature quantitative program.
+
+The lesson seems to have been forgotten, however. Sometimes, when
+viewing the admirable energy with which “intelligence” is tested
+quantitatively by hundreds of able psychologists, one is almost
+reminded of Fechner’s time. In this case, it is true, there seems to
+be a positive result for practical purposes at least. Apparently
+something like a crude total ability for certain achievements is
+measured by those tests which have been invented and applied since
+Binet and Simon. And since the test-scores show a rather satisfactory
+correlation with certain general abilities in study or other work
+of subsequent life, we have in these tests a first approach towards
+a practical prognosis. Still there is a grave danger in this very
+success. Do we know or do we learn by those tests what processes and
+factors, which are masked by the gross scores, coöperate in the test
+performance? We do not know, nor do we learn much, concerning these
+factors. Figuratively speaking, a given total score may mean: degree 3
+of “intelligence,” together with degree 1 of “accuracy,” with degree
+4 of “ambition” and degree 3 of “quickness of fatigue,” or it may
+mean “intelligence” 6, “accuracy” 2, “ambition” 1, and “quickness of
+fatigue” 4,--and so forth.[5] Quite a number of different factors may
+combine in various proportions in order to give the same I.Q. And that
+fact matters, even for practical purposes. In the educational situation
+a teacher should treat the child according to the actual nature and
+strength of the various factors constituting the total I.Q. of a given
+child. This is not a new criticism, of course, but it must be repeated
+for the sake of science. We seem to be too well satisfied sometimes by
+our testing enterprise because it is a quantitative procedure, and as
+such it appeals to us as thoroughly scientific. This is superficial,
+however. If we compare the nature of testing with the main traits of
+our ideal, viz., the procedure of physics, we find a difference which
+may be decisive. What does the physicist ask when he must face a new
+field of research? In such cases his questions have been: Is light an
+oscillatory process? If it is, does it oscillate in the direction of
+propagation or vertically to it? Is magnetism produced by the magnetic
+fields of elementary currents in molecular structures? Why does
+surface tension produce _regular_ forms of liquids and liquid films?
+How can the spectrum of one element contain thousands of different
+lines? This is the type of question with which we find the physicist
+occupied. They are his fundamental problems, in the treatment of
+which quantitative work appears at definite stages as an aid toward
+the solution, eventuating finally in the determination of laws, but
+directed and governed throughout by those questions about the _nature_
+of states and processes. What are the phenomena? Are they of one type
+or another? Such are the main problems of experimental science, in the
+_service_ of which we find measurement. If now we ask ourselves what
+problems about the processes underlying intelligent behavior we are
+solving by our tests, not very many of us will have an answer ready.
+But some will answer that from now on, intelligence shall be defined
+as the X which is measured by those tests and that measuring is more
+scientific than grubbing among the unknown functions of the nervous
+system. The fact is that we are not in the habit of asking questions
+about underlying processes in psychology, questions similar to those
+in which the whole interest of physicists is centered. Instead of
+imitating the very kernel of physics, we assume merely the outer,
+quantitative form of exact science. Think of a physicist interested
+in all types of motors who would restrict his study of them to the
+following tests to be applied to all the various types: measurement of
+their volume, of temperature at their surface, of ionization of the
+air in their neighborhood, of their actual frequency of revolution,
+and of the total weight of the bodies; who would calculate from these
+data an average “power-coefficient” for each of them, define “power”
+by the method, never ask a question about the working process in their
+interior, and remain satisfied by this quantitative procedure for
+many years. I know I am exaggerating in some respects if I compare
+intelligence testing with such an attitude. I do it intentionally in
+order to call attention to the main point, viz., that admiration for
+quantitative method leads us almost exclusively to those research tasks
+which immediately afford us an opportunity for measurement. Given the
+natural narrowness of human interest, the next consequence will be our
+failure to see those problems which do not lend themselves immediately
+to quantitative investigation, problems which may be, however, the more
+essential and the more scientific, in a deeper meaning of that word.
+In such problems qualitative observation and experimentation would
+constitute the first step; but since in adult physics (as it appears
+from without) these methods seem to be despised, we dare not undertake
+these fundamental tasks. Wishing to be utterly scientific, we may
+just miss those opportunities for research which, in our stage as an
+immature science, would be the most scientific of all. The nature and
+the actual development of our problems should decide about the methods
+to be followed. What actually happens, however, is that an imposing
+method blurs our view of the subject-matter. This method then begins
+to decide what problems we shall see. I do not object in principle to
+testing as a preliminary mode of diagnosis and prognosis. But just as
+the engineer learns from the investigations of processes in physics,
+even practical diagnosis in applied psychology will never go very far
+without an eager interest in the inner nature of intelligent behavior.
+Eventually, if all psychologists occupied with “intelligence” are
+engineers in the field of testing, who shall investigate the “physics”
+of intelligence, without which we shall never have a true and sensible
+engineering?
+
+Occasionally, in animal psychology, the situation has tended to
+become somewhat similar to that just described. In experimentation on
+animals almost the only quantitative method is statistical. We do not
+measure in the proper meaning of that term, but we count positive and
+negative cases at least. In order to have cases which are comparable,
+and therefore may be counted, we put our animals in situations where
+their behavior is restricted to a few types of reaction. These we count
+and the result of our experiments is given in frequencies enumerating
+these few possible alternative reactions. I do not criticize the method
+as such; I have used it myself. But we should never forget that, when
+used exclusively, it may make our knowledge of behavior narrower. With
+a given problem in mind we exclude a great many behavior possibilities
+by our choice of experimental conditions. We do not see them any
+more. Some psychologists will at least observe the remaining forms of
+behavior during the experiment as an aid for the interpretation of
+quantitative results; but others will not, because in their opinion
+what is not quantitative cannot be scientific. In this case, what is
+left of the material are abstract figures. Even then the procedure may
+be valuable, if the experimenter is one of those who always find new
+and productive problems for experimentation. For most of us, however,
+conservatism may become the consequence of such an attitude, since,
+admiring figures and curves, we keep away from the true source of new
+ideas and new problems in our youthful science: i.e., from a broad
+outlook upon our subject-matter.
+
+Once more I venture to defend broad and qualitative information as a
+necessary supplement to quantitative work. Otherwise behavioristic
+psychology might become as sterile as supposedly it is exact. Too
+great an interest in present quantitative methods and in their
+standardization is not a hopeful response to the fact that the
+development of psychology depends upon the discovery of _new_ methods
+and problems in the future, and not upon the monotonous repetition
+of a few standardized methods which fit only our primitive problems.
+If the reader says that behavioristic psychology does not need
+this advice, I reply that Watson has been criticized because his
+well-known observations on children were not made in the sanctified
+form of quantitatively controlled experiments. I do not think that
+those observations give quite an adequate account of autochthonous
+reactions and of learning in children; but, on the other hand, they
+reveal more interesting facts than we might have learnt from columns
+of abstract figures. An eminent psychologist was friendly enough to
+say a few approving words about my own work on intelligent behavior in
+apes. Still, he added, you have missed the main point by not applying
+the statistical method. To my mind this means an inability to see
+the problems which I had tried to treat in a preliminary way. Those
+problems concerned the characteristic forms of intelligent behavior in
+a special type of animal, as influenced by various situations. What
+may be valuable in those observations would disappear in an abstract
+statistical treatment of the “results.” Am I right then in warning
+against a one-sided glorification of quantitative procedure _as such_?
+Let us apply it, but not before we know by qualitative analysis where
+to find good problems for quantitative research.
+
+A certain broadmindedness and a clear appreciation of our present
+predicament would be wholesome, then, in the application of
+behavioristic methods. There is more in a scientific method than
+observing, experimenting and measuring. In physics, at least, observing
+and measuring usually result from definite questions, and these
+questions are preliminary forms of hypotheses concerning unknown
+properties of nature. Observed but enigmatic aspects of nature may
+be deduced and explained from assumptions about unknown parts of it.
+Taken as such, however, an assumption is not what the physicist wants.
+Fortunately, a concrete assumption made in order to explain certain
+observations will always lead to consequences other than those facts
+for which it was made. These new consequences are to be tested in
+further observation and experimentation. What is the hidden basis of
+electrolytical conduction? Arrhenius makes the hypothesis of molecules
+being dissociated into independent ions. By their charge conduction
+is explained. But from their assumed independence definite conclusions
+are to be drawn about the optical properties of the electrolyte. These
+are tested in new experiments. Thus, productive method contains a bold
+hypothesis as essentially as it requires adequate observation, and
+the growth of physics is a constant oscillation from the first to the
+second and vice versa.
+
+In behavioristic psychology we cannot complain about a lack of
+unknown parts of the organic systems we study to which to apply
+productive hypotheses. We know a little about the elementary effects
+of stimulation upon the sense organs of our subjects; we observe their
+responsive behavior when it becomes overt. But between the two terms of
+the sensori-motor circuit there is more _terra incognita_ than was on
+the map of Africa sixty years ago. If behavior is to be understood as
+depending upon inner organization as well as outer conditions, we must
+try to imagine the modes and traits of these inner processes, which are
+either started from without by environmental stimulation or aroused
+intra-organically by inner dynamics. For those who know the history of
+physics and wish to emulate it intelligently in psychology, this task
+of finding productive assumptions about the hidden parts of behavior
+will probably appear the most important of all. The whole future
+development of psychology depends upon it. Here all the creative force
+of behaviorism ought to be concentrated in a fine emulation of physics.
+Behaviorism’s critical attitude toward introspection and direct
+experience is an absolutely negative feature of the movement, at a
+time when _positive_ ideas are needed. If I feel a little disappointed
+by the work of behaviorism, the reason is not so much a certain
+innocence in its treatment of direct experience and in its imitation
+of adult physics, but its astounding sterility in the development of
+productive concepts about functions underlying observable behavior.
+As an imitation of physics it is scarcely a satisfactory achievement
+for the behaviorist to have taken the old concept of reflex action
+from physiology (including the reflexes of inner secretion) and to
+give us no further comprehension into the formation of new individual
+behavior than is offered by his concepts of positive and negative
+“conditioning.” Why should behaviorism be so utterly negativistic in
+its characteristic statements? “Thou shalt not acknowledge direct
+experience in science” is the first commandment and “Thou shalt not
+conceive of other functions but reflexes and conditioned reflexes” is
+the second. I do not see how the behaviorist can reconcile this creed
+with our actual knowledge of organic processes and of behavior. Nor
+do I understand why, from the standpoint of “exactness,” the organism
+should be conceived as such a crude and poor affair. In its effort to
+imitate the technical procedure of physics, behaviorism often shows a
+stubborn narrowness; the same attitude becomes quite striking in the
+exclusion of all but two types of processes from its assumptions about
+the inner side of behavior. What a strange conservatism and dogmatism
+in a revolutionary school! Even now, as an adult science, physics
+is allowed to have at least one new idea about the atom every year.
+Though _our_ science is so very young, most behaviorists do not even
+dream of any possible change in the nature of their two fundamental
+ideas. The truth was revealed to them in its perfection at the birth of
+behavioristic psychology.
+
+The two behavioristic concepts in question show one remarkable
+property: If you compare them with various types of processes in the
+inorganic world of the physicist, you will find that even simple
+physical systems are by far richer in the variety of their kinds of
+function than is the nervous system of man in the eyes of a radical
+behaviorist. A soap-bubble does not show us reflexes, it is true;
+therefore we cannot expect to find conditioned reflexes in it.
+Nevertheless those functional properties which the soap-bubble does
+exhibit are decidedly superior in some respects to the monotony of
+reflexes and conditioned reflexes. The same thing holds for innumerable
+structures in the inorganic world. Sometimes their behavior will
+at once remind us of the behavior of organisms, although they lack
+reflexes and conditioned reflexes. However, by the standard of
+exactness as the behaviorist understands it, it would be heresy
+to follow this hint. His imitation of physics excludes most of the
+functional possibilities given in physics itself. In organisms there
+shall be nothing but reflexes. Some members of the school even are
+beginning to protest cautiously against this strange situation.
+
+It is not probable that an observer, looking upon human and animal
+behavior without prejudices, would find reflexes and conditioned
+reflexes as the most natural, or as the only, types of function by
+which his observations might be explained. For those, however, who are
+deeply convinced that the theory of original and acquired reflexes is
+the whole truth about the nervous system, there is no real incentive
+for the further observation of natural behavior, since they do not feel
+the need of any new information or new functional concepts. On the
+other hand, the restriction of observation to counting the frequency of
+the few reactions retained in standard experiments will protect those
+conservative concepts; and so one narrowness keeps the other alive.
+
+But even with a more impartial interest in all the various forms of
+behavior, how shall we find more productive concepts, if the gap
+between the observable stimulating environment and observable overt
+responses is as large as we find it in the present stage of physiology?
+Of course we shall use whatever hint may be given by nerve physiology
+and endocrinology. But even the more recent discoveries about the
+all or none law and the metabolism in nervous activity do not give us
+just that basis which we need for our purposes. In such a situation
+anything will be valuable upon which we may base a working hypothesis.
+In a critical predicament even a stone or a chair may become a weapon,
+though the strategist would despise it in exact warfare. There is no
+serious danger in developing a working hypothesis upon a somewhat
+wavering ground, since, in empirical science, such an assumption
+will be tested and continually corrected in further observation and
+experimentation. Either it serves as a path toward new explorations,
+its consequences being verified by success, or it is shown to lead us
+the wrong way. In the first case no one will have scruples about the
+previous legitimation of its birth; in the second, we shall discard it
+as soon as observed facts are against it, or as soon as we find it bare
+of real productive power.
+
+               *       *       *       *       *
+
+The basis upon which I propose to build a working hypothesis has
+much in its favor. In some respects it is just as solid as objective
+observation is in behavioristic psychology, and in others, it is
+certainly not insecure enough to raise serious doubts.
+
+In an experiment in behavioristic psychology the “direct experience”
+of the subject does not play any rôle. If he has such experience I as
+experimenter do not assume that it has the slightest influence upon
+the course of the physiological events. My assumptions about those
+events must be able to explain thoroughly the overt behavior of the
+physical organism of the subject. Direct experience is not a “force”
+interfering with the chain of physical causation. (The opposite
+hypothesis is made by dualists. But I do not think that it, on the
+other hand, is productive, or that it illuminates the innermost nature
+of things.)
+
+I cannot exclude _my own_ direct experience in observing behavior,
+as I cannot avoid dealing with direct experience even when employing
+the most “indirect” methods of physics. Moreover in behavioristic
+psychology I have to use objective experience in a great variety of
+forms which no longer are material for observation in adult physics.
+If I can rely upon objective experience for my statements about the
+behavior of the subject I observe objectively in a behavioristic
+experiment, why should I hesitate to utilize it to develop a working
+hypothesis in the following manner?
+
+Suppose I am used as a subject in a behavioristic experiment. With me
+as a subject, behavioristic research would have the same difficulty in
+developing a working hypothesis about the hidden processes underlying
+my behavior. But in this case I can help to build a bridge over the
+“large gap” mentioned above. During much of my own behavior I have
+direct experience. Now there is no doubt that this experience depends
+upon some of those processes about which we wish to formulate a
+working hypothesis. It is more than probable that, under these
+circumstances, I may use my direct experience in order to guess
+about these processes. It is granted that direct experience does not
+accompany _all_ the unobservable events which produce the behavior
+observable from without; hence the hypothesis I am about to offer has
+a limited application. But in our crucial situation we have not much
+to choose. Confident as we are of further help from physiology, we are
+so utterly in the dark at present that it would be pure folly not to
+profit by any help that we can get for our work.
+
+Let me declare that I do not propose to “introspect” in the technical
+meaning of the word. The same kind of simple and naïve statements about
+experience which I make as an observer of other people, of animals,
+of instruments and so forth, shall now be used for another purpose.
+Objective experience depends upon physical events outside my organism
+and upon physiological events _in_ it concurrently. As depending upon
+physical events _outside_ my organism, objective experience leads
+to the construction of the surrounding physical world; as depending
+upon physiological events _in_ my organism, it gives me hints about
+these processes. _There is no reason at all why the construction of
+physiological processes directly underlying experience should be
+impossible, if experience allows us the construction of a physical
+world outside, which is related to it much less intimately._
+
+Obviously, I must have some leading principle in making my inferences
+from given properties of direct experience to the properties of
+concomitant physiological processes. In a more special form such a
+principle was established by Hering many years ago. Its content is
+the following: My various experiences can be ordered systematically
+according to the sorts and degrees of similarity found between them,
+exactly as animals are ordered in zoölogy and plants in botany.
+The processes upon which these experiences depend are not known
+directly; but if I knew their properties, I should be able to order
+them as systematically according to similarities as I do order the
+experiences actually. It is possible to imagine a great many different
+relationships between the two systematic orders, that of experiences
+and that of physiological processes. But I should have ever so much
+difficulty in trying to relate definite experiences to definite
+processes so long as I failed to assume one specific relationship
+between the two orders, viz., that of _congruence or isomorphism in
+their systematic properties_. This principle is sometimes formulated
+more explicitly in a number of “psychophysical axioms.”[6] Here it will
+suffice to give some examples of its application.
+
+A sound of given qualitative properties is produced in various degrees
+of experienced intensity or loudness. The systematic order of all these
+different experienced intensities may be represented by a straight
+line, which means that, following that order, we have the impression
+of moving continually in the same direction. What may correspond to
+loudnesses in the underlying processes? The principle decides that
+whatever the concrete nature of these processes, the physiological
+fundaments of all the experienced degrees of loudness must show the
+same order as these show themselves, i.e., that of a straight line.
+More especially: if a definite loudness is situated between two
+other loudnesses in the systematic order of experiences, the process
+corresponding to the first shall be between the processes corresponding
+to the two others in the order of underlying physiological events. That
+gives the congruence or isomorphism between the two systems, which I
+mentioned above.
+
+  At the present time the all-or-none law does not allow us to choose
+  “intensity of nervous activity” as a physiological correlate
+  of experienced degrees of loudness. But our principle could be
+  equally well applied if frequency or density (number) of elementary
+  currents were taken as the correlate of loudness.
+
+As another example, colors in their relation to underlying processes
+have been considered so thoroughly by G. E. Müller,[7] that there is no
+need of repeating his theory here. In some respects his assumptions
+go far beyond the principle we are discussing here, insofar as he
+draws conclusions about the _retinal_ processes, whereas the principle
+_as such_ applies only to the processes underlying visual experience
+directly. In his hypothesis it also happens that these processes
+are chemical reactions. Such a transgression of the principle is
+perfectly sound, however, and shows the productive force of it. If
+there is congruence between the system of color experiences and that of
+underlying processes, not all kinds of physical events will appear fit
+to give a system of so much variety (of so many “dimensions”) as the
+system of colors is found to possess. Chemical reactions may easily be
+the only type of event which can be taken into consideration here. So
+the principle of systematic congruence serves to restrict the number
+of those physical processes which we may draw upon in developing the
+concrete hypothesis about the “large gap.”
+
+On the other hand, we have begun to apply the principle itself in a
+much more general, and at the same time much more concrete, form than
+either Hering or Müller would have done. As used by these authors it is
+based upon the _logical_ order in which we arrange certain experiences
+after abstracting them from their context and judging about their
+similarities. It attributes a congruent logical order to the underlying
+processes, similarly abstracted from their dynamic context like dead
+specimens in a museum. But what about the real concrete order of
+experiences, which itself is experienced? At this moment I have before
+me three white points on a black surface, one in the middle of the
+field and the others in symmetrical positions on both sides of the
+center one. This is an order again; not an abstract, logical order,
+however, but a concrete, experienced order. As experienced it depends
+upon physiological processes in my organism, so that some feature of
+a physiological function must correspond to it. And applied to this
+concrete order our principle says that correlated with the visually
+experienced symmetry there is an homologous symmetry of dynamic context
+in the underlying processes. Or, in the same example: one point is seen
+_between_ the others, this relation being experienced exactly as the
+white of the point is. Again in the underlying processes there must
+be something functional which corresponds to that “between.” Applied
+to the _concrete_ order our principle claims that the experienced
+“between” is accompanied by a functional “between” in the concrete
+dynamic context of concurrent physiological events. If the principle
+is applied strictly in this manner to _all_ cases of spatial order in
+experience, it will lead to the general statement that _all experienced
+order in space is a true representation of a corresponding order in the
+underlying dynamical context of physiological processes_.
+
+This is a bold hypothesis. It has far-reaching consequences,
+if it is taken seriously enough. Its significance will become
+clearer in the following chapters where we shall also discuss some
+misinterpretations which may easily arise. For the present I will
+offer another application of the same principle. The temporal position
+of one experience as “between” two others is frequently experienced,
+in the same way that spatial “betweenness” is. Now as far as it is
+experienced, time must have a functional correlate in underlying
+physiological processes no less than experienced space. Again, then,
+the temporal “between” is correlated with a functional “between” in
+the concrete dynamic context of physiological events. And if, in this
+manner, we apply the principle throughout, we will arrive at the
+proposition that _experienced order in time is a true representation of
+the corresponding concrete order in the underlying dynamical context_.
+
+Both temporal and spatial orders do not exhaust the field of
+application of this principle. _More_ order is experienced than
+that of space and time. Certain experiences “belong together” in a
+concrete manner, whereas others do not, or, at least, belong together
+less intimately. And again this “belonging together” may be itself
+experienced. The very moment I form this sentence of my manuscript,
+a shrill, disagreeable voice begins to sing in the neighbor’s house.
+The context of my sentence is something which, though extended in
+time, is experienced as belonging together, whereas those sharp
+notes are experienced as something foreign, as not belonging to that
+context, though they are experienced _at the same time_. In this case
+our principle applied formulates the proposition that _to a context,
+experienced as “one thing” belonging together, there corresponds a
+dynamical unit or whole in the underlying physiological processes_. In
+this respect again, the order of experience is a true representation
+of a corresponding functional order in the processes upon which it
+depends. Perhaps it is this last application of the principle which has
+the greatest importance for gestalt psychology. In this form, at least,
+it becomes a radical physiological hypothesis about common sensory
+experiences as well as about the more subtle and complicated processes
+involved in observable behavior.
+
+In the last case I have taken an example from outside the realm of
+_objective_ experience in the more restricted meaning of this term. A
+sentence I may be forming is not a part of objective experience, as
+is the chair before me. Still my statement about that experience is
+no less simple and obvious than were earlier ones about spatial or
+temporal orders. I admit that this is not always so, however. I do
+not wish to recommend the observation of _subjective_ experience for
+our purposes without some limitation; as yet it looks as though only
+very simple statements about one’s own _subjective_ experience can be
+made with a high degree of certainty. Moreover, we have enough cases
+of objective experience to provide an adequate basis for developing a
+working hypothesis.
+
+In the last paragraphs my own direct experience was taken as a basis
+for constructing a general working hypothesis about the relation
+between experience and unobservable constituents of behavior. The
+only way in which I can bring my observations in that field of direct
+experience before the scientific public is through spoken or written
+language, which, as I understand it, refers to my direct experience.
+However, in terms of the position already taken in this chapter, all
+language as a series of physiological events is the peripheral outcome
+of other purely physiological processes in my organism, particularly of
+those upon which my direct experience depends. My general hypothesis
+states that the concrete order of actual experience is a true
+representation of the dynamic order of corresponding physiological
+processes. Therefore, _if, to me, my language is an adequate “symbol”
+for my own direct experience, it is an objective symbol for those
+physiological processes at the same time_. We may also conclude, then,
+that it does not matter very much whether I take it as a symbol for one
+or the other, since in the respects in which they correspond, there is
+no difference between them.
+
+If I now go back to behavioristic psychology I have to deal with
+language as one form of behavior observed in my subjects. There is no
+reason now why I should not take language as a symbol, since only the
+most superficial view would treat it merely as a phonetical event. The
+behaviorist himself, when listening to a scientific argument, will
+find himself reacting not to the phonetical properties of speech, but
+to its symbolic meaning: he will react in the same way practically
+to the nouns “experiment” and “_Versuch_,” to “animal” and “_Tier_,”
+though in each case the first and second words are utterly different
+phonetically. Why should we change that attitude when the other person
+is called a “subject,” and talks during an experiment?
+
+The language of my subject may be taken either as indicative of direct
+experience in my subject or of those processes which underlie his
+direct experience. If the subject says, “This book is bigger than
+that,” his words may be interpreted as stating a definite direct
+“comparison-experience” which he is having or the corresponding
+dynamic relationship in his physiological process. Since, for my
+hypothesis the same “order” is meant in both cases, the alternative
+is not important. From the viewpoint of behavioristic psychology the
+physiological interpretation is necessary, but the other meaning is not
+excluded. This second interpretation is kept distinct from the causal
+explanation of observable behavior, but if it is suggested by the words
+of the subject, it can do no harm. The behavior of a chick can tell
+me without words that he is able to react to one brightness in its
+_relation_ to another.[8] If in the course of an experiment, a human
+subject tells me that he sees one object as brighter than the other,
+the scientific value of this sentence is exactly the same as that of
+the chick’s behavior, whether I assume direct experience in the human
+subject or not. Why then should I decline to accept language as one of
+the nicest and most instructive forms of behavior? Of course, we can
+obtain the same results in man as in the chick, without language, by
+applying the somewhat clumsy, statistical methods of animal psychology,
+and some behaviorists seem to prefer such a procedure. The only reason
+I can see for this attitude is historical. Introspectionists have used
+the “verbal report” in “introspection”; and I am ready to admit that
+their method was something like a blind alley. But, as is usually
+the case in such a situation, behaviorists have become negatively
+conditioned to much more than the “harmful stimulus” alone, so that
+they shy away not only from introspection but also from all things once
+connected with it, and primarily from language, though it is in itself
+utterly innocent.
+
+
+BIBLIOGRAPHY
+
+  W. Köhler: _Die Methoden der psychologischen Forschung beim Affen_.
+  Abderhaldens Handbuch der biologischen Arbeitsmethoden VI, D. 1921.
+
+
+
+
+III
+
+_The Viewpoint of Introspection_
+
+  Round about the accredited and orderly facts of every science there
+  ever floats a sort of dust-cloud of exceptional observations.
+
+                                      W. James, _The Will to Believe_.
+
+
+WILLIAM JAMES has well described how a vivid interest in the “irregular
+phenomena” of the “dust-cloud” will often mark the beginning of a new
+productive era in a science. At such times, what has been exceptional,
+and a part of the dust-cloud, may suddenly become the very center
+of scientific work. We shall see presently that introspection has
+developed a procedure by which an orderly though artificial system of
+psychology is _protected_ against a similar revolution, a procedure in
+which the most interesting observations are continually exiled into the
+dust-cloud.
+
+In referring to introspection I am not considering any special school,
+but all those psychologists who treat direct experience in the manner
+now to be discussed.
+
+For the most part introspectionists will agree with what has been
+said about behaviorism in the first chapters; some, indeed, will have
+recognized their own arguments in parts of my criticism. Wherein
+lies the difference then between introspectionism and my position?
+This difference, I promise, will become startlingly clear as soon as
+we discuss the observation of direct experience. Since _objective_
+experience is so much more legitimated by its use in physics and
+behavioristic psychology, we shall first examine the treatment of it by
+introspectionists, with the result that, for all practical or concrete
+purposes, introspectionism will be found to be astonishingly similar to
+behaviorism.
+
+The very moment we begin to move naïvely in the field of direct
+experience, protests will arise on all sides. If I say that I see a
+book before me on my desk, I shall be criticized because nobody can
+_see_ a “book.” Lifting the book between my fingers, I am inclined to
+say that I feel the weight, external to my fingers and roughly in that
+place where the book is also seen. This, a critic would remark, is an
+excellent example of a typical statement by an untrained observer,
+quite satisfactory, it is true, for the practical purposes of common
+life, but altogether different from the kind of description given
+by a trained psychologist. Even the character of being an “object,”
+or “thing,” which I have tacitly attributed to the experiences I
+have called “book” and “desk,” is improper in correct psychological
+description. If observation is to give us simple and genuine data as
+the elements of psychology, we must learn to make the all-important
+distinction between _sensation_ and _perception_, between the bare
+sensory material actually given to us and the host of other items
+which since early childhood have become associated with it. You cannot
+see a “book,” I am told, since this term involves some knowledge
+about a class of objects to which this specimen belongs, and about
+their use, etc., whereas in pure seeing such knowledge cannot enter.
+As psychologists our task is to separate all these “meanings” from
+the seen material _as such_, the manifold of simple sensations. It
+may be a difficult task to effect this separation, and to behold the
+net sensations which are the actual data; but the ability to do so
+is precisely the special talent which transforms the layman into a
+psychologist. It ought to be evident that originally, when we lift
+a book, we do not have the experience of a weight external to our
+fingers in space. At first there are mere sensations of touch, and
+perhaps strain, in our fingers, whereas that “weight outside” has
+been connected with them in a long history and through the influence
+of other factors than those of pure sensation in our hand. A similar
+consideration will show us easily that genuine sensory data cannot
+present “objects.” “Objects” cannot exist for us before sensory
+experience has become imbued with meaning. Who can deny that meaning
+fundamentally determines almost all experience? Does it not finally
+lead to a kind of illusion? The German noun “_Igel_” sounds to Germans
+as though no other animal but a hedgehog could have this name.
+“Eagle” however, which in English is acoustically the same as “_Igel_”
+is in German, sounds to an American as though only an “_Adler_”[9]
+could be called by this name. Here it is obvious that we have to
+discriminate between a genuine sensory experience, which is the same
+in both languages, and two different meanings connected with it in
+different countries. Again, the symbol + _looks_ like the sign for
+addition, especially if you see it between numbers; but it might as
+well have been chosen as a symbol for division. If we feel at first a
+disinclination to accept the last statement, the only reason for it
+consists in just that sort of complexion which meaning, since we were
+children in school, has given to the innocent symbol. As soon as we
+realize how strong this influence is, we have to admit that probably
+_nothing_ in the naïve experience of a normal adult can be free from
+it. Even the most lively characteristic of an experience we may try to
+describe, may be a property of that experience only in this acquired or
+accidental way.
+
+Meaning depends upon personal biography; it has a highly complicated
+origin and represents a somewhat accidental trait of our material.
+Therefore we must get rid of it and learn to approach actual sensations
+in such a way that their qualities and laws may be discovered in their
+pure form. This procedure is called “introspection.”
+
+Probably all psychologists who are teaching at the present time have
+learned this lesson thoroughly, though many perhaps implicitly and not
+as a well-formulated program. Its basis seems justified; its content
+seems sound scientifically. Therefore, if introspection is possible and
+can lead us to actual sense data, we should be inclined to follow in
+its footsteps. Direct experience as such, it is true, will not be worth
+so very much under these circumstances. Of all _objective_ experience,
+at most only the part cleansed and selected by introspection will
+become the subject-matter of our study.
+
+However, we should not form a definite judgment before knowing more
+about the criteria for the selection of some experiences as the genuine
+ones and the exclusion of those other parts of experience which are
+assigned to the influence of meaning. Let us consider a few more
+examples, then, which exhibit other properties than those to be found
+in the cases already mentioned.
+
+Do you see that man on the street approaching us at an even gait? Now
+he is ten yards away, and presently five. What do you say about his
+size at the two distances? That five yards away it was practically the
+same as ten yards off? But that is impossible! A simple consideration
+of geometrical optics will tell you that during the man’s approach
+his height must have doubled and his breadth too, so that his total
+size must have become four times the amount it was at ten yards. We
+transfer the observation from the street into the laboratory. Here I
+have two cardboard rectangles. The sides of the first have a length of
+two and three inches, those of the second are six and nine. If now I
+hold the first before you at a distance of one yard and the second at
+three yards, you will admit that, optically, they must have the same
+size approximately, since their linear dimensions vary exactly as do
+their distances. But you tell me that the further rectangle appears
+much larger to you than the nearer one? There you have it! Yours cannot
+be a statement about actual sensory experience. A slight change of
+conditions will make you realize that my opinion is right. Look through
+the opening of this screen, which will show you the two rectangles
+on a homogeneous background, but no more of their surroundings. Do
+they look different now? Still a little. Then we shall be even more
+cautious. I darken the room; then I turn the light on, allowing you to
+make your observation through the screen, only for a small fraction
+of a second, so that practically no eye-movements can occur during
+that time. Now both rectangles have the same size, do they not? After
+some practice you will be able, perhaps, to see them as equally
+large even without the help of my screen and the short exposure, as
+soon as you look upon them in the proper way--which is the method of
+introspection for obtaining pure sensory experience. If you do not
+accept my demonstration, you might even go so far as to believe that
+the after-image of an object changes its size according to the distance
+from which you “project” it upon a screen, because in untrained
+observation it certainly seems to change considerably, according to
+the distance of your fixation point. But that is absurd. How could it
+really change, if the area of the retinal after-effect remain constant?
+
+My second example may be regarded as a natural consequence of the
+first. When dining with your friends, what forms do the plates have in
+your experience, those to the left, to the right, and opposite you?
+They are circular, you say, as is your own plate? Impossible again!
+They must be elliptical, as you will admit after you have once thought
+about their projection upon your retina; some of them must even be
+very flat ellipses, and even your own plate will become an ellipse as
+soon as your eye does not look down upon it vertically. It will be
+worth while to apply to this case a procedure similar to the one we
+used in the first example. On this plane which, as you see, is oblique
+to the direction of your eye I fix a circle; on this other plane, at
+right angles to the direction of your eye, I fix an ellipse, whose
+shape is chosen in such a manner that from its place it is projected
+upon your retina in the same form as the circle is from its oblique
+plane. Though you describe the first as a circle and the second as
+an ellipse, they are two almost identical ellipses in actual sensory
+experience. Take this screen with two holes in it, which lets you see
+both forms, but excludes, however, the data by which the angles of the
+planes became known to you at first. Both forms look alike now? All
+right. After a short while you will be able to see correctly without
+the screen, providing you adopt the attitude of introspection. Once
+more, the corresponding observation on an after-image of a given form,
+“projected” upon planes of different oblique positions with respect to
+your line of vision, will elucidate the case completely. Its form seems
+to vary according to the positions of the plane, though the retinal
+after-effect has the same form throughout. This being absurd, you
+see the importance of observing genuine sensory experience by way of
+introspection.
+
+A similar paradox has been much discussed since Helmholtz wrote his
+_Physiologische Optik_. Here on this desk near the window, and parallel
+to it, a vertical screen is fastened. On the window side of the screen
+I place a black paper on the desk, and in the shadow of the screen,
+a white paper. These papers are selected in a special manner: the
+dark one exposed to the direct illumination from the window reflects
+the same amount of light as the white paper reflects under its low
+intensity of illumination. You call the first one “black” and the
+second “white”? Then again you have experiences which are not to be
+trusted, because under these circumstances the images projected upon
+your retina are both of them equally intense. So the sensations,
+i.e., brightnesses, of both must also be the same. Moreover this can
+be demonstrated. Take this piece of gray cardboard and look through
+the two holes in it so that one of them is filled by a section of the
+“black,” and the other by a section of the “white” paper. Now, as the
+surroundings of the papers are excluded from vision, and thus you have
+pure sensations before you, their approximate equality is obvious.
+Again, with a little practice--most painters observe objects this
+way--you will be able, without the cardboard, to destroy the illusion
+of their difference--just by looking at the papers in the attitude of
+introspection.
+
+All these observations are of an illusory sort, then, the purification
+of which exhibits the true sensory facts. In this and other respects
+they are comparable to a great many well-known “optical illusions,”
+the diagrams of which fill many pages in our textbooks. Take the
+famous Müller-Lyer figures! When you observe them often and try to
+pick the main line out of its surroundings, you will find the illusion
+become unstable, and finally it may even disappear. It was not, then,
+a true sensory fact. The same thing may be shown in another manner.
+Accurately draw the two figures, one above the other. If now you fix
+your attention carefully upon the two left ends of the two main lines,
+you will find the one vertically above the other. Repeating the same
+observation with the right ends, you find the same result. It follows
+that both lines have the same length.[10] Similarly you will find
+all the other illusions variable, according to the attitude of the
+observer, and avoidable by practice. Therefore they cannot be classed
+as genuine sensory experience.
+
+Recently, stroboscopic movement has been investigated by some German
+and American psychologists. Under appropriate conditions successive
+stimulation by two lights at two points not too distant from each other
+produces an experience of movement from the first to the second. But
+if in making your observation in the attitude of introspection, you
+find nothing but a “gray flash,” must we not be very careful, indeed,
+before accepting the report of “movement”? Did not the observers of
+Benussi[11] report similar experiences when their skin was touched
+successively at two different points? But in their description the
+movement did not usually occur upon the skin; it formed a curve through
+empty space touching the skin only at those points. Evidently, such an
+experience cannot belong to the world of touch alone; it is no genuine
+sensory fact, then.
+
+If all these are examples of illusions which, for psychological
+purposes, have to be corrected by introspection, something must
+transform pure sensory experience so that for untrained people it
+assumes an illusory character. This is the case indeed, and in most of
+our examples we can discover that “something” easily enough.
+
+The man approaching us on the street does not grow larger, as for
+simple optical reasons he should. The circle observed on the oblique
+plane does not become an ellipse; it seems to remain a circle after
+its retinal image has become a very flat ellipse. The white object
+in the shadow remains white, the black paper remains black in full
+light, though the first may reflect much less light than the second.
+These three examples have one common property: the physical object _as
+such_ remaining constant, while actual stimulation varies according
+to more or less accidental conditions (of distance, of position,
+of illumination), our experience agrees with the constancy of the
+physical object much better than with the varying stimulation produced
+by it. From this fact we draw the simple conclusion that all such
+apparent constancy in experience is the product of _learning_. Since
+our early childhood we have observed that a distant object is much
+bigger, “really,” when we come near to it. In the same way we have
+learnt that an object situated obliquely in relation to our glance
+has quite another “real” form when we look at it vertically. Again in
+the same manner we have observed that an object which we see under
+abnormal conditions of illumination will show quite another “real”
+brightness or darkness as soon as conditions become normal. As these
+observations have been repeated millions of times, our knowledge of
+the “real” size, the “real” form, the “real” brightness, has become so
+intimately connected with what we see, that with time we seem to _see_
+those constant “real” properties instead of the ever changing ones
+corresponding to varying stimulation. In short, those facts, though
+strange at first, are explained by _meaning_, and then completely fit
+into our scientific system.
+
+We have already seen that probably no experience escapes from the
+influence of meaning. Hence we do not here introduce a new hypothesis.
+If untrained people seem to “see” what from this viewpoint is a product
+only of past learning, that again is an illusion, to be found generally
+wherever we discover the indirect origin of the experience. Remember
+the symbol +, which _looks_ like the sign for addition. Furthermore,
+meaning as an after-effect of past observations must be _reproduced_
+and reproduction presupposes reproducing factors in the actual
+situation. Obviously, then, if we do not see the distances, the oblique
+positions and the degrees of illumination, no reproduction of the
+“normal” size, form and brightness will be possible. It is precisely
+this which happens when the given objects are observed through holes
+in a screen: since, under these conditions, the surroundings of
+the objects and, with them, their _actual_ distance, position and
+illumination are excluded from vision, corresponding reproductions
+are made impossible. The objects must now be experienced exactly as,
+in pure sensation, they have been the whole time. The same proof is
+given by introspection. In our terms this procedure means an isolation
+of local size, form and brightness from their context in an actual
+situation. Thus it separates them from the factors determining the
+reproduction of “meanings,” and under these conditions of isolation the
+effect is that of pure sensation determined by the actual stimulation.
+
+If in the case of size and form, after-images show a surprising
+variation with the relative distance and position of the background,
+this also is a direct consequence of our explanation. After-images are
+localized upon the background. If the distance and the position of this
+background operate as factors of reproduction, as in the previous case,
+the same after-image will take on a great many apparently different
+sizes and forms, relative to the changes of the background in distance
+and position.
+
+Finally, in terms of our explanation we can understand why, under
+extreme conditions, there is no “constancy of size,” etc. Ten yards
+away a man is scarcely smaller than at a distance of five yards; but
+fifty yards off he looks smaller, and 1,000 yards away he usually
+becomes a tiny object, indeed. During most of our life we are
+interested in objects rather near to us; so we learn little about
+things far off and the consequence is that with increasing distance
+the relation between the true sensory experience and the meaning
+changes, to the advantage of the former. In all these arguments there
+is great persuasive force and cogency. Most psychologists do not for
+a moment doubt the truth of the explanation in terms of “meaning.” It
+also seems to correspond to a very natural tendency in human thinking.
+Physicists who have never studied psychology will tend to give the same
+explanation, as soon as they become acquainted with the facts we are
+considering. And if you demonstrate the phenomena to a freshman, he
+will give the “meaning theory” at once.
+
+The importance of this theory is not less considerable on this account.
+There is practically no field of vision which does not exhibit some
+of the facts we are discussing. When we open our eyes we behold
+sizes, forms and brightnesses, and, of these appearances, only a very
+few will be exempted from the verdict which, from the viewpoint of
+introspection, must be imposed upon them. The facts themselves are
+not exceptional; only the demonstration of their surprising deviation
+from what one should expect them to be is something unusual. This
+demonstration is a matter of psychological, one might almost say, of
+laboratory, sophistication; the facts themselves are affairs of every
+moment and of everybody.
+
+Though the extent of objective experience which shall not be trusted
+thus increases in scope, we have not yet reached its limits. The
+simple localization of objects manifests similar properties. Looking
+at a point before me I see the objects around it in different places,
+corresponding to the different places which their images occupy on my
+retina. If I now fixate another point, the same objects ought to appear
+in other places according to the new positions of their retinal images.
+But actually the objects do not seem to have moved. Their localization
+in space is again relatively independent of retinal position. Or take
+the speed of seen movement: the same physical movement may be seen from
+many different distances. When I am ten yards away from the moving
+object, retinal speed will be one-half of what it is at a distance of
+five yards. In direct experience, however, there is no appreciable
+difference of speed between the two cases of movement.[12] Obviously,
+the same explanation can be given here which has heretofore been
+applied to the constancy of size, form and brightness. Once more we are
+dealing with meaning. And ultimately we recall that first illustration,
+and indeed the most general case of the illusory character of direct
+experience: if we seem to perceive “objects” in our visual field, even
+those “objects,” from the standpoint of introspection, must also be
+products of learning: _meaning transforms sensations into “things.”_[13]
+
+From this it follows that of all objective experience, as both layman
+and psychologist enjoy it in the visual field of everyday life, very
+little is left as pure and genuine sensory fact. That such is the
+consequence we must accept, if we go the ways of introspectionism, will
+become clearer to us now at every step.
+
+Introspection, however, draws a much more serious conclusion from
+the foregoing analysis. Not only shall all those experiences which
+are supposed to be influenced by meaning not be treated as primary
+sensory experiences; but, in addition, they shall be excluded from
+the subject-matter of psychology. Some introspectionists may hesitate
+to acknowledge explicitly such a radical principle, but in their
+researches most of them proceed as though they had completely accepted
+it. After they have classified a given experience as one that must
+be explained by the effects of meaning, they rest satisfied, and are
+no longer any more interested in it than if it were found to belong
+to astronomy. This means that most objective experience is excluded
+from the introspectionist’s psychology as soon as he has found it
+susceptible to his explanation in terms of meaning. In the following
+chapters we shall see that wherever we touch upon a somewhat unusual
+and therefore interesting observation, the introspectionist will
+offer us this same explanation, and we shall always be urged to
+_discard_ the observation because meaning is involved. Whether the
+explanation is right or wrong, we continually face in common life
+the kind of first-hand objective experience which is discarded by
+introspectionism. Toward it all our interests are directed. There are
+millions of people who will never transform the “objects” of their
+environments into “true” sensations, who will always react to sizes,
+brightnesses and speeds as they find them naïvely, who will like and
+dislike forms as they appear to them in their objective world without
+recourse to introspection, and what are held to be the true sensory
+facts will never play an appreciable rôle in their lives. As long as
+the introspectionist’s attitude prevails, however, psychology will
+never seriously study those experiences which form the matrix of our
+whole life. Instead, it will observe and discuss the properties of
+rare and unusual experiences which, though they are supposed to be
+continually present beneath our naïve experiences, seem to be so well
+hidden most of the time that their existence has nothing to do with
+life as we actually experience it. Even the best introspectionist will
+not find or state these experiences unless he assumes the special
+attitude which--fortunately for him--he does not assume except in
+the laboratory. The enterprise of psychological observation is thus
+undertaken, removed so far from common experience, that if we should
+ever learn the laws of pure sensory process, all of them together
+would not lead us back to the psychological world we live in; because
+this world is one of direct and naïve experience, and utterly
+foreign to these laws of pure sensory process. If, therefore, the
+introspectionist’s psychology does not treat the facts we have to deal
+with in life, if most of these facts are exiled from his science, he
+cannot complain about his own fate. It is only to be expected that such
+a psychology would not satisfy people for long. If you condemn interest
+in the experience of daily life and define genuine experience as a rare
+something only found by artificial procedure, it is inevitable that
+your professional as well as your lay audience will tell you that they
+do not care for your kind of psychology. And they will not stop there.
+Since you have asserted that your experience is the only genuine one,
+they will interpret your procedure as the only possible scientific
+approach to the problems of experience. Thus they will condemn _all_
+direct experience as material of psychology, after you have given away
+the greater part of it for the artefacts of sophisticated and sterile
+introspection. This reaction had to come. It has come in the form of
+behaviorism.
+
+I do not feel justified in calling those artefacts _unreal_. When I
+apply the introspectionist’s methods I myself can get those special
+experiences which corroborate his findings. But I do not attribute
+to them a rare value as though they were worth more, as though they
+were more “true” than everyday experience. If that common experience
+involves meaning, the experiences given by introspection depend upon
+the attitude of introspecting and cannot be shown to exist without
+it, as we shall see later on. Moreover, for actual life, common
+experience is found to be incalculably more important than any of the
+introspectionist’s “true sensations.” Let us grant for a moment that
+all the facts mentioned above are what they are for us because of the
+influence of meaning. Do they become less real or less significant
+psychologically because of this genesis? Is a certain amount of H_{2}O
+which I have before me no real chemical substance because I know that
+it has been formed by the oxidation of hydrogen? Would that hydrogen
+be a “true” chemical substance, but not the water? Is the water not
+worth the chemist’s investigation? I do not see why an experience which
+contains acquired meaning should be less interesting and important
+for psychology than experiences not so composed. Take the case of the
+symbol +, which every one will agree is a product of meaning. When seen
+between figures it _looks_ like “plus,” i.e., _its meaning appears
+localized in the visual field_. A strange fact, indeed, which may
+entail some very important questions! Why should such problems not be
+investigated in psychology? It is the same situation with regard to
+all the other cases which are explained by meaning. Why should we lose
+our interest in the problems they engender, because the fatal word
+“meaning” has been uttered?
+
+Furthermore there is positive reason why, instead, we should examine
+these problems with particular attention. We have to discriminate
+between two types of cases among the examples considered. One,
+represented by the symbol +, is distinguished by the fact that child
+psychology offers an adequate account of the growth of meaning in
+this concrete case. For the second type, represented by most of the
+other cases, such an account has not yet been given. It has been in
+no way demonstrated that the objectivity of things, the localization
+of weights, the constancy of size, form, speed, localization and
+brightness, the variation of after-images, and so forth, are really
+produced by the influence of meaning. It may seem extremely plausible
+to most of us that such is the case, but none of the experiments and
+observations I have mentioned in this connection can be regarded by
+an unprejudiced psychologist as satisfactory proof. In our present
+situation it is merely an hypothesis that the second group of facts
+quite properly belongs together with the first class, and as an
+hypothesis it is to be treated.
+
+The customary thing to do with an hypothesis is to test it. Does
+introspectionism test this hypothesis? Quite the contrary, since
+all interest in the experiences which it is intended to explain, is
+destroyed for the introspectionist by the explanation itself. Thus
+we have before us an assumption which would never be examined at
+all, if all psychologists were extreme introspectionists. If this be
+strange, it becomes the more surprising when you realize that at this
+point most psychologists would not listen calmly to our discussion of
+“meaning theory” as an hypothesis. At first they might express only an
+incredulous smile, as though they had been asked to believe something
+fantastical; but if you insisted upon this point they would grow
+impatient, because in their opinion you were disturbing the sound basis
+of careful science by an obtrusive paradox.
+
+When a scientific argument tends to become rather emotional it
+undoubtedly prods some deep-rooted presupposition, the discussion of
+which is felt to be offensive. No one enjoys the discussion of what
+for him is secure beyond discussion. In the face of this exhibition
+of temper, the more calmly should we realize that the attitude of
+introspectionism, if taken so piously, becomes a real danger. Let us
+suppose for a moment that in the cases of objectivity, size, form,
+speed, localization, brightness, etc., the explanation by meaning is
+incorrect. We should then immediately draw the conclusion that all the
+facts in question are a part of genuine sensory experience. But these
+facts would tell quite a different story about sensory experience
+than that given by the introspectionists. Hence it would follow that
+what we learn about “true” sensations from them has to be regarded
+as distorted truth. Whether or not this be really the case, depends
+therefore upon the validity of the general explanation by meaning. And
+this explanation is not to be tested; it _shall_ not even be examined!
+It will be obvious then that, used by the introspectionist in this
+manner, _the meaning theory serves as a defensive bulwark for his quite
+definite and special ideas about sensory facts_.
+
+This makes us suspicious of the meaning theory. Introspectionists
+may be so utterly convinced of it, not because independently it is
+particularly attractive in itself, but because their prior firm belief
+about the nature of sensory facts will not permit them to acknowledge
+certain experiences. If these “irregular” experiences can be explained
+away by meaning, the belief will be reassured.
+
+In order to show that such is the case, we have only to consider the
+arguments brought forward in favor of the meaning theory. They have
+little indeed to do with meaning, but very much with convictions about
+the world of pure sensory experience.
+
+Take the “constancy of brightness” as an example. A white paper in the
+shadow appears as white, a black one in bright illumination as black,
+though the white may reflect less light actually than the black. Is
+there anything in this experience, in the white and the black _as
+such_, which tells us directly that we have to do with an effect of
+meaning? Nothing at all. The argument is of an indirect kind, viz.,
+our observation in this case cannot be reduced to “pure sensation”; it
+must, therefore, be a product of meaning.
+
+First of all, one can _change_ the experience by looking at the
+papers in a special manner. Therefore, it is not a true sensory
+experience. A primitive conviction, then, which paradoxically both
+needs and supports the meaning theory is this: _True sensory facts are
+independent of changes in subjective attitude_. Evidently, however,
+such a statement is not a sufficient support of the theory. If, in the
+attitude of introspection, I can transform the apparent white into a
+dark shade, and the apparent black into a rather bright nuance, the
+opposite change will occur spontaneously as soon as I forsake that
+attitude and behold the papers as other people do. From the viewpoint
+of experience the “true” brightnesses, appearing during the period of
+my experimental attitude, are as changeable, then, as those which I
+had before and which I customarily have. Logically, I might as well
+condemn the experiences found during “introspection” and refuse to call
+them “true,” because they disappear whenever I return to the everyday
+attitude. The introspectionist, however, is far from treating both
+experiences with the same measure. He thinks that what he experiences
+in his special manner is true experience, that, hidden somehow, it
+ever exists behind the veil of meaning whenever he falls back into a
+more naïve attitude. Thus it becomes clear that there is still another
+belief which makes him prefer his special and rare experiences.
+
+His other belief is easy to find. Why should we be surprised by all
+these observations on size, form, localization, speed, brightness,
+etc.? Why not take them quietly and as a matter of course? Obviously,
+because under the given experimental conditions of stimulation we
+expect to have experiences quite different from those which we really
+have. Naturally, we say, seen size should be proportional to retinal
+size, to changes in retinal form there should correspond changes in
+seen form, localization in the visual field should vary with retinal
+localization, seen speed with retinal speed, and seen brightness
+should follow the variations of retinal intensity. While the everyday
+experience of the layman contradicts these expectations in the most
+shocking manner, the special attitude cultivated by introspectionism
+succeeds in obtaining precisely those other experiences which,
+according to the introspectionist, we ought “naturally” to have
+always; or we at least _approach_ that state of affairs which our
+understanding considers the appropriate one. _This_ is the fact which
+makes the introspectionist prefer the special and rare experiences
+found by an artificial attitude, and which also makes him believe
+in a permanent, though hidden, existence of these “pure sensations”
+under the opaque cover of naïve experience. It becomes apparent, then,
+that the procedure and the results of introspection acquire a special
+sanction through their agreement with definite presuppositions about
+the relation between stimulation and sensory experience. The same
+suppositions lead to the condemnation of everyday experience. No one
+can understand the scientific trend of introspectionism who has not
+discovered, who does not see, this decisive point. How many times, as
+a student, have I read and heard that the Müller-Lyer phenomenon does
+not represent a “true” sensory fact, because by analytical observation
+and practice we can destroy the “illusion”! If this be taken as a
+proof, obviously one kind of experience is given a _higher value_ than
+another. If you ask, why? you will ultimately get no other reason than
+the one already stated: that one experience agrees with the properties
+of peripheral stimulation whereas the other does not. Those that do not
+are discarded with the aid of the meaning theory.
+
+A second fundamental conviction, then, underlying this theory and the
+whole scientific viewpoint of introspectionism is this: _The main
+properties of “true” sensory experiences follow the corresponding
+properties of peripheral stimulation._
+
+The introspectionist’s belief takes a form still more concrete. How
+did he proceed in order to find the true sensory facts in the case of
+brightness, for instance? He tried to isolate the white and the black
+paper under observation so that they were taken out of their context as
+far as possible. The same thing is done by those who try to destroy the
+Müller-Lyer illusion, and similarly in all the other cases. Such an
+analytical and isolating attitude will have effects similar to those
+of a perforated screen, which, concealing the particular surroundings
+of the objects, gives them a new _homogeneous_ environment. If now the
+“illusions” disappear, this effect of isolation is explained in terms
+of the exclusion of all those secondary factors, and in particular
+meaning, which before had distorted the true sensory experience. But
+the possibilities of pertinent explanation are not exhausted with
+this. The effect produced by isolation proves at least that objective
+experience in one part of the field does not develop, independently of
+its neighborhood, as a function of local stimulation alone. If this be
+taken as a description of facts, we may explain the facts in one of two
+ways: (1) _Either_ “true” experience depends upon local stimulation
+exclusively, whereas the meaning which almost always adheres to it
+depends upon (is reproduced by) the properties of the environing
+field; (2) _Or_ natural sensory experience _itself_ is not determined
+locally; i.e., the properties of any one part of the field depend
+normally upon the conditions given in the whole field, or, at least,
+in a larger area of it. In _both_ cases isolation, or the introduction
+of a homogeneous environment, would make local experience correspond
+better to local stimulation. The introspectionist, however, does not
+consider the alternative. He only seems to see that one horn of the
+dilemma, according to which isolation gives the “true” sensation, and
+naïve experience is a product of meaning. Again we find him partial
+to an astounding degree; he _prefers_ that hypothesis (although
+unwilling to regard it _as such_) which gives him local sensory facts
+determined by local stimulation. In a well-known example, when our
+subjects make eye-movements along the main lines of the Müller-Lyer
+figures, these movements are shown to have different extents for
+the two figures, corresponding to the difference of their apparent
+lengths. There you have it, we are told! The illusion is not an
+optical fact; it is produced by the accompanying motor phenomena, or
+at least by innervation tendencies if overt movements do not occur.
+This is an altogether partial statement because, supposing that the
+two lines _have_ different lengths in “true” vision, nothing would
+be more natural than that the eye-movements should be different
+correspondingly. Only by prejudice can the fact in question be
+interpreted as though it proved the indirect genesis of the Müller-Lyer
+effect. It may prove instead that sensory experience is influenced
+by stimulation in a larger area and that, therefore, eye-movements,
+depending upon sensory experience, will also vary when surroundings are
+changed.
+
+Recapitulating the foregoing analysis, we may conclude that: _A
+decisive motive in introspectionism is the belief that true sensations
+are independent of subjective attitude and depend only upon local
+stimulation as purely local experiences._[14] This is the only rule
+which helps us to understand on what occasions the introspectionist
+begins to introspect. Very seldom will you find him introspecting
+where, without any technique, he obtains certain simple relations
+between local stimulation and experience. But where these relations
+do not seem to exist _prima vista_, you will find him taking recourse
+simultaneously to the introspective procedure and to the theory of
+meaning.
+
+Here is the remarkable result of our inquiry. The whole procedure of
+present introspectionism seems at first to be in full contrast to
+behaviorism’s purely physiological viewpoint. If the introspectionist
+is not the advocate of direct experience, who else should be able to
+play that rôle? But we have found that there is some restriction upon
+his enthusiasm for direct experience. A foreign judge has the chair.
+He examines direct experience beforehand, convicts most of it, and
+sends it away for correction by a special procedure. This judge is a
+_physiologist!_ His ideas about the sensory part of the nervous system
+are extremely definite. When the introspectionist mentions physiology,
+he seems to talk about a helpful servant; but when we look at the
+facts, the servant rules the introspectionist.
+
+If introspectionism is much less guided by direct experience than
+by definite physiological principles which decide what shall be
+called “true” sensations, its viewpoint is not so very far from that
+of behaviorism. And this similarity of general ideas becomes even
+more striking if we compare in detail the physiological creed of
+introspectionism with that of behaviorism.
+
+The main concepts of behaviorism are those of reflex and conditioned
+reflex. What is the characteristic trait of reflex action? That from
+a definite receptor organ nervous excitation is conducted along a
+definite path, through definite “centers” and along other definite
+paths towards a definite effector organ. The _order_ of organic
+reactions in their dependence upon definite stimulation is explained
+by this conception: a preëxisting arrangement of more or less isolated
+conductors enforces that order. It is true that behaviorists do
+not suppose the anatomical arrangements to be _absolutely_ rigid
+and constant. But, though a certain “irradiation” of excitation
+is admitted, almost the only biological value attributed to this
+plasticity consists in the fact that, if some other factor can make
+the connections practically rigid, this other factor will have a
+certain range of different possibilities to work upon. Hence, order of
+functions is enforced fundamentally in the reflex arc, but, at a higher
+level of the nervous system, connections may be built (or blocked) by
+another factor. This other factor is “conditioning.”
+
+If now we consider the definite physiological ideas which silently
+determine introspectionism’s criteria for “true” sensory experience,
+we find the following two: _First_, local sensation depends upon local
+stimulation; it does not depend upon other processes in the nervous
+system, not even upon those issuing from neighboring points in the
+same sense organ. There is only one physiological assumption which
+would explain such an independence of local sensation, namely isolated
+conduction from one point of the sense organ toward one point of that
+region the activity of which is accompanied by sensory experience.
+This, however, is nothing but the first half of a reflex arc, so that
+in this respect introspectionism agrees completely with behaviorism. If
+experience does not seem to obey this principle universally, that is
+because we have a _second_ principle: At a higher level of the nervous
+system at least, connections may be built during development, which did
+not exist originally at birth. A corollary of this principle is: that
+certain experiences will be followed and accompanied by others, or by
+reproduced material corresponding to them, in the form of “meaning.”
+Though this term sounds a trifle more refined than “conditioning,” in
+the physiological considerations of most introspectionists it means the
+automatic formation of new conducting connections, just as conditioning
+does for behaviorists. Again there is no real difference between the
+one viewpoint and the other.
+
+During their lively controversy over whether introspection, or the
+objective observation of behavior, is the true procedure, it does not
+occur to either party that some other theme might be more important
+and urgent, namely, that concerning their common convictions as to
+the basic type of nervous process underlying experience or behavior.
+This assumed basis appears self-evident to both of them. And since
+so much is taken for granted by both, we should not be surprised to
+find the same conservatism in introspectionism which is so striking in
+behaviorism.
+
+That psychology is a very young science and that therefore its future
+and its progress will probably depend upon discoveries unsuspected at
+the present time, seems not to be realized by most introspectionists.
+In sensory experience, at least, the essential traits of all possible
+and acceptable observations are fixed for them before they begin to
+observe. Consequently, they show an almost negativistic attitude
+whenever an observation does not agree with that preëstablished
+truth; and their experimentation tends to become a rather defensive
+and critical procedure. If others point to some new observation
+that does not exactly conform to the fundamental concepts mentioned
+above, they are eager to quell the disturbance, and to dismiss it by
+appropriate introspection and discussion. I admit that criticism of
+new observations is a healthy procedure in science; yet I have known
+introspectionists who spend their scientific lives in a critical
+defense of what they believe to be unquestionably true. In these
+circumstances one cannot expect them to have a youthful interest in
+free observation and naïve discovery. If the main points are already
+established, and if further observation cannot give us essentially new
+hints, why should we strain our eyes in the chaos of a large world
+behind which, anyway, the old truth _must_ be hidden everywhere? As
+William James would say, whatever happens is a “nothing else but” for
+them; it can be reduced to an old story. In this attitude again there
+is no real difference between behaviorism and introspectionism, though
+each defends its conservatism by different methods. But there is a
+real difference between preferring to be at rest upon preëstablished
+ground or preferring adventure and intellectual curiosity which
+take you full-sail into the open sea of experience. If you choose
+the latter, perplexity will be your usual feeling, and a glimpse
+of clear-shaped coasts a rare reward on some Sunday of research.
+But the next generation will have more Sundays as a result of your
+exploration. Certainly, neither this nor the next generation is needed
+in psychology, if we stay at home and know beforehand that no other
+sites can be found in the future.
+
+I do not see, then, why introspectionism should be preferred to
+behaviorism, or vice versa. They are so much alike in their
+fundamental opinions and in their general attitudes, that all their
+wrangling seems like a family quarrel to the onlooker. And it is among
+precisely those themes, over which they do not quarrel, that we shall
+find the problems of _gestalt_ psychology. For the present, however, we
+shall pursue this question: Is it true that the processes underlying
+experience and behavior are determined mainly by the connections of
+given nerve-paths, and that some change in the conductivity of these
+connections is the secret of an individual’s development?
+
+
+BIBLIOGRAPHY
+
+  M. Bentley: _The Field of Psychology_. 1924.
+
+  K. Koffka: _Gestalt Psychology_. The Psychological Bulletin. 1922.
+
+  D. Katz: _Die Erscheinungsweisen der Farben_. Ergänzungsband 7 der
+  Zeitschr. f. Psychol. 1911.
+
+  W. Köhler: _Uber unbemerkte Empfindungen und Urteilstäuschungen_.
+  Zeitschr. f. Psychol., 63. 1913.
+
+  W. Köhler: _Akustische Untersuchungen_ III. Zeitschr. f. Psychol.,
+  72. 1915.
+
+
+
+
+IV
+
+_Dynamics as Opposed to Machine Theory_
+
+
+SOMETIMES people are conservative and right at the same time. Still it
+seems highly improbable that in our very young science conservative
+opinions should be right, opinions which are opposed to almost all
+experience, and which have scarcely been examined, because they have
+been protected by the “meaning theory.”
+
+Some of the physiological presuppositions lurking behind introspection
+are hardly convincing if they are once examined critically. In one of
+our examples, apparent movement, produced by touching successively two
+different points on the subject’s skin, is not admitted as a “true”
+sensory fact because usually it forms a curve through empty space, only
+the ends of which are felt on the skin (cf. p. 79). But why should all
+the experiences which depend physiologically upon the stimulation of
+a sense organ be localized in the same place where that sense organ
+is localized as an experience? In vision, this is not the case; forms
+or colors are not seen at the place where we feel our eyes. Neither
+are sounds heard generally where we localize our ears. Behind the
+introspectionist’s argument there seems to be some primitive confusion
+of the peripheral processes produced by stimulation with sensory
+experiences depending upon them of the physiological locus of the first
+with the sensory localization of the second.
+
+I think this case is typical because it shows that the apparent
+self-evidence of the argument from physiology prevents a critical
+consideration of it, whereas any examination of the case would efface
+the self-evidence of the assumption. In this chapter I shall try to
+show that even the main assumptions of introspective psychology and
+behaviorism are by no means axiomatic, though they agree with a common
+prejudice which is thousands of years old.
+
+We have seen that those assumptions are utterly dependent upon the
+explanatory force of the meaning theory. Unprotected by this theory
+those assumptions would be destroyed by any observations which
+contradicted them. Recent experimental work on some of the experiences
+discussed as examples in the last chapter bears upon the explanation
+of those experiences in terms of meaning. In order to _learn_ that
+sometimes white is black and vice versa, an individual needs time and
+_much_ experience, largely because he has to learn it so thoroughly
+that finally the products of learning will be “projected” into his
+field of vision as definite nuances of brightness instead of the
+“true” ones. We should expect, then, that young or primitive subjects
+would not show the “constancy of brightness” to any considerable
+degree. But when the experiment was made with young chicks under very
+severe conditions, they were found to possess approximately as good a
+“constancy of brightness” as I do.[15] Similar experiments made on the
+“constancy of size” with children (from two years up), and with young
+apes, also gave positive results.[16] Though it is difficult to exclude
+slight influences of meaning upon the phenomena in question, it seems
+altogether unlikely, even without further work, that _in principle_
+these phenomena are produced by meaning. I do not deny that objective
+experience is imbued with acquired meaning in many respects. But, as
+has been said before, where this influence is not demonstrated in the
+history of individuals, or somehow demonstrated independently, no
+indirect argument is strong enough to be accepted in lieu of such a
+demonstration.
+
+Since in these instances the meaning theory begins to relinquish the
+field, a radical change in fundamental principles becomes unavoidable.
+The phenomena we have here discussed, such as constancy of size, form,
+localization, speed and brightness, the stroboscopic movement, the
+well-known illusions and so forth, become just as decisive in our
+understanding of genuine sensory experience as the so-called “normal”
+cases of introspection, i.e., as the observations that at a given
+distance and on a homogeneous background seen size depends mainly upon
+retinal size; that (apart from contrast and other exceptions) in a
+given illumination seen brightness depends upon retinal intensity, and
+so on. In these cases, usually regarded as normal, size, brightness,
+etc., are found to vary with the properties of local stimulation,
+because conditions of surrounding stimulation are practically constant.
+For the same reason, by assuming the introspective attitude, we may
+find experiences corresponding to local stimulation even in those
+other cases where _naïve_ experience shows the contrary, because by an
+analytical attitude the influence of surrounding conditions temporarily
+can be suppressed to a high degree.
+
+But we do not suppose such isolation to be the normal state of affairs.
+If in all the examples given we accept direct experience at its
+face-value, our fundamental assumption about the processes underlying
+experience and behavior must be opposite to the assumptions of both
+introspectionists and behaviorists; i.e., instead of reacting to local
+stimuli by local and mutually independent events, the organism reacts
+to an actual _constellation_ of stimuli by a total process which, as a
+functional whole, is its response to the whole situation. This is the
+only viewpoint which can explain how to a given local stimulus there
+may correspond altogether different experiences as soon as surrounding
+stimulation is changed. We face this dilemma: _Either_ we take the
+traditional horn, in which case direct experience and everyday behavior
+are irrelevant to our psychological analysis, _or_ we trust all
+kinds of experience impartially, in which case we have to accept the
+suggested radical change in physiological theory.
+
+“Total process” and “functional whole” are, however, terms which sound
+rather vague, or even mystical, to most scientists. It would be well
+to present our physiological assumption in more definite detail. This
+may be done. And at the same time we shall obtain a more general view
+of our problem if we ask ourselves just why the prevailing viewpoint
+should have appeared so utterly convincing to the last generations.
+
+The chief reason seems to be that sensory experience is in most cases
+quite orderly, and that the behavior, which accompanies it, is no
+less orderly. Now since the early days of European science man has
+been deeply convinced that the processes of nature, if they are left
+to their own “blind” play, will never produce anything like order.
+Why should they? Does not the accidental intercourse of inorganic
+natural forces around us produce chaos and destruction everywhere?
+We have been able to formulate some of the rules according to which
+isolated processes occur in nature necessarily, but where many
+processes influence each other without control, no reason is apparent
+why confusion and general disorder should be avoided or why the
+whole complex should develop toward an orderly distribution. _Without
+control_--this appears to me to be the decisive point. For as soon
+as man began to restrict the possibilities of natural processes by
+appropriate rigid arrangements, the same forces which apparently would
+have produced chaos, destruction or disorder without control were
+guided toward orderly function in the service of mankind. This has been
+man’s conception of nature for thousands of years; in modern times the
+engineer still enforces in the same manner the functional order in his
+machines. The “blind” forces of nature are allowed to make the machines
+_move_, but the _order_ of the movement is enforced by those special
+arrangements which are the essential traits of the machines and the
+pride of their inventors.
+
+From this viewpoint, which prevails even in current theory, a young
+science will tend to presuppose the existence of “special arrangements”
+wherever the distribution of forces or processes in nature is found to
+be orderly. Aristotelian astronomy is a good example. The movements of
+stars in the sky maintain a remarkable order, so different from what
+one would expect to occur in “free” nature, that something special
+must control those celestial events. Obviously, the possibility of
+a star running wild or a planet going astray must be excluded by
+rigid arrangements. Therefore, in Aristotelian theory, the stars
+are fixed upon those famous crystal spheres, the turning of which
+forces the stars to move in their apparently regular orbits. There
+are even engineers, viz., the stellar deities, who watch and control
+the machinery. Three hundred years ago this conception was still
+entertained in pious awe. The functional value of its crystal spheres
+in the orderly sky, however, was precisely the same as that of any
+rigid arrangement enforcing orderly processes in our machines. There
+is a deep longing for rest and safety in man. Early in history it
+was satisfied by such a primitive belief, the content of which may
+appear crude, narrow and absurd to modern eyes. What was so shocking
+in Galileo’s astronomical discoveries? That there was so much going
+on in the sky and the astronomical order was so much less definite
+than one could happily believe before! If the heavens begin to show a
+lack of rigid institutions, similar to the flexibilities we observe on
+this planet, who can feel secure in his most important beliefs? There
+was much exceedingly human, miserable fear in the furious attacks
+directed against Galileo by the Aristotelians of his time, and the
+fear was evoked by the amount of change and dynamics Galileo found
+in the world as the home of mankind. One may well suppose that the
+excitement produced by Harvey’s discovery of the circulation of the
+blood contained a similar element of fear, because the conception of
+man as a rigid structure was suddenly disturbed by the idea of internal
+unrest, accompanied by the possibility of its fatal cessation at any
+moment.
+
+In any case the same general motive expresses itself in the well-known
+tendency of early biological thought to explain all remarkable
+properties of organic life, and most of all its orderly course, by
+special arrangements enforcing order. In the time of Descartes, his
+so-called mechanical interpretation of organic functions may have
+been bold enough; still he was absolutely conservative in assuming
+without a moment’s hesitation that--apart from the influence of one
+engineer, the soul--all delicate, vital processes were enforced by
+special arrangements, connections and channels throughout the whole
+body of man. Figuratively, the organism was for him what the sky had
+been for Aristotle--full of crystal spheres. He did not know the laws
+of dynamics, it is true. But though we know much more about them
+since his time, the main changes in biological theory seem to have
+been refinements of his type of thinking rather than discoveries of
+new general concepts about organic order. Even in our own day, though
+doubting the validity of that machine-conception as a satisfactory
+explanation of _all_ organic order, biologists do not give us any
+other clear general principle whereby to understand the orderliness of
+organic function.
+
+We shall see at once what the possibilities of alternative explanation
+are, if we try to get a more concrete picture of the characteristic
+trait in Aristotelian and biological machine theory.
+
+In physical processes we find two sorts of factors determining
+events at every moment. In the first class belong the actual forces
+of the process itself; they represent the _dynamical_ side of it.
+In the second class we have those properties of the system which
+may be regarded as _constant conditions_ of its events. So, at the
+present time, the elementary charge of one electron seems to be an
+unchangeable condition of all physical events. In a conducting wire
+the specific conductivity of its material will be regarded as such a
+given condition. On the other hand, the electrostatic forces of the
+current itself driving an electron along that wire are an example of a
+dynamical factor. But among the constant conditions two further classes
+may be discriminated. In the case of electric current it is one given
+condition that all moving charges have the amount of electronic charge
+or multiples of it. Another condition of the current is given by the
+mode of the distribution, the connections and the spatial order of the
+conducting material, i.e., a network of wires.
+
+Immediately the fact becomes clear that, whereas in all systems of
+nature, in addition to their own dynamical forces, processes depend
+upon conditions of the first class, the influence of special conditions
+of the second class may dominate in one case and be at a minimum in
+another. When we consider the play of electrons in an atom or the
+integration of atoms forming a molecule, we do not find a special
+topography laid down beforehand which determines those processes.
+At every moment, in addition to constant properties of the material
+(first class of conditions), the actual _dynamical_ situation develops
+the next event out of itself. If we wish to refer to the second
+class of conditions in such a case, it would be to point out that
+the topographical situation consists of physical space without any
+special determining or limiting feature in it. On the other hand,
+the equilibrated distribution of electric charge on the surface of a
+conductor depends upon the rigidly given form of that conductor as a
+limiting topographical condition; and in a steam-engine the piston
+can move only one definite way, determined by the rigid walls of the
+cylinder.
+
+This leads to a classification of physical systems which is decisive
+for our problem. In all of them process is to be regarded as
+necessarily determined, but among the various cases we find enormous
+differences in the relative influence which limiting topographical
+conditions, on the one hand, and the play of actual forces, on the
+other, exert upon the course of events. Wherever we have given
+topographical conditions, preëstablished and not changeable by
+the process itself, their existence means the exclusion of some
+dynamical possibilities and the restriction of the process to only the
+possibilities compatible with those conditions. Electric charges may
+move through the conductor in various ways, but they are _prevented_
+from leaving it, and so their final distribution depends upon its form.
+Again the electric current may have one direction or the other, its
+distribution may vary enormously; but, if the wires are surrounded by
+isolating material, the dynamics of the current itself will remain
+restricted to the interior of the wires. The most extreme case will
+consist in a system where preëstablished topographical arrangements
+exclude all processes except only one; and an example of this type is
+given by the piston’s motion strictly confined between the walls of the
+cylinder.
+
+In this case the steam in the cylinder exerts its pressure in all
+directions, but, owing to the topographical conditions, it is not
+allowed to do work except in _one_ direction, in that, namely, in
+which the piston is free to move for a certain distance. Consequently,
+nothing but the motion as such is determined dynamically in such a
+system, whereas its direction is strictly enforced by topographical
+arrangement.
+
+Now this is exactly the relation between dynamics and preëstablished
+topographical conditions which we find in typical industrial machines.
+The number and forms of special one-way functions which may be enforced
+in such systems are enormous and varied. Still the general principle
+is everywhere the same. Sometimes a little more than the minimum may
+be left to dynamical determination, but at present no one would
+construct mechanical systems for industrial purposes where the form and
+distribution of process would be to any considerable degree a matter of
+dynamics.
+
+It is the same idea again which occurs to Aristotle when he views the
+remarkable order of celestial movement. His spheres are topographical
+conditions enforcing that order. And since Cartesius, neurologists have
+worked with the same concepts wherever they have dealt with orderly
+organic function in higher animals and in man. It is not the dynamics
+of nervous processes as such which they suppose tend toward coördinated
+function. Vitalists may have such a mystical idea! Rather, special
+anatomical topography is the only explanation for order; and by it the
+dynamics of process are compelled to produce orderly results.
+
+Once more we return to point out that it is the same conception which
+forms the common basis of both introspectionism and behaviorism, so
+far as their physiological principles are concerned. Take vision, for
+example. How many things may be present simultaneously in one actual
+field! Still, excluding extreme peripheral regions, there does not seem
+to be any confusion for the most part. One object appears separated
+from all others, and the sharpness of its contours is evidence of a
+high accuracy of function. But the field is not only clear as such; it
+also corresponds admirably to the physical realities. Points which
+are neighbors in physical space are neighbors also in the visual
+field; the center of a circle in physical space appears as the middle
+of a symmetrical figure in vision, and so forth. All this order is
+as remarkable as it is necessary for our response to the objects
+which, in the form of bodily movement, must be adjusted properly to
+the physical world. The order of projected images upon the retina
+is easily explained by the properties of the pupil, the lens and so
+forth. But what about the processes which, streaming from here into
+the brain, will eventually determine experience and behavior? Since
+experience and behavior show a similar order, this order must have
+been enforced or preserved throughout the entire process. Only one
+kind of explanation seems, then, to be possible: In the nervous system
+we have a topographical arrangement, preventing confusion and mixture
+during conduction. Indeed, if from each point of the retina local
+processes are conducted on definite and isolated paths toward their
+final cortical termini, and if the totality of these termini somehow
+reproduces the geometry of local retinal processes, then the dynamics
+of the process are excluded completely from the determination of its
+own direction and distribution. In terms of such a construction of the
+facts we can feel secure that the most important property of vision,
+i.e., its accurate order, is guaranteed by so trustworthy a factor as
+preëstablished anatomical conditions.
+
+Similar considerations would lead to similar results in the case of
+touch and hearing. But what about learning and habit formation?
+
+At the present time most psychologists would answer this question by
+saying that in some parts of the nervous system, between its optical
+and acoustical sectors, for instance, paths of nervous activity are
+not fixed once for all in the youth of an individual. Either no paths
+will be ready for conduction at first, or else from one point of the
+tissue several paths will conduct processes equally well in several
+directions, so that disorderly diffusion will occur. In the adult,
+however, we observe a great many associations, let us say, again,
+between the optical and the acoustical centers, and very seldom is
+there any confusion in the play of reproductions. The thing we have
+before us now is called a book, its parts pages, and so forth. It is a
+serious symptom if some one does not call things by their right names.
+Normally, the connection between definite visual processes and definite
+acoustical and motor processes works astonishingly well. What other
+explanation can be offered? Where we had at first no conducting path or
+perhaps several indifferent paths, we might assume that with time one
+single path has become differentiated and so much more susceptible to
+excitation than all the others, that now processes must follow this one
+path. This would mean that, disregarding the _genesis_ of this dominant
+one-way function, the perfect order of association and reproduction is
+again explained altogether in terms of the properties of topographical
+conditions. Though these conditions are not supposed to exist in
+the same manner in infancy, and though the changes by which they
+are produced remain obscure at the present time, when once they are
+established the direction and order of processes is as rigidly enforced
+by them, and any influence of dynamics will be as utterly excluded, as
+is the case supposedly in simple sensory conduction. As the railroad
+train remains on its tracks because these determine one way of least
+resistance, and as the enormous power of the engine has no influence
+upon direction, so in reproduction as well as in sensory processes all
+order and direction is a result of prearrangement, independently of the
+actual properties and dynamical forces of the process itself.
+
+If for the sake of order dynamics shall not take part in the
+distribution of processes, and if distribution shall be merely an
+effect of given topographical conditions, important consequences follow.
+
+First of all, excluding only the somewhat obscure _genesis_ of
+associations and habit, what happens in the nervous system will
+depend either upon inherited machine arrangements or upon secondarily
+_acquired_ arrangements. Therefore, where an actual performance is
+not an instance of the learning process as such, it must be explained
+either by original topographical conditions, or by past learning, i.e.,
+by acquired changes in those conditions.[17] Now, this alternative is
+nothing but the old dualism of nativistic and empiristic explanation.
+No reader of all the famous discussions between nativists and empirists
+can have a serious doubt that a nativistic explanation has always meant
+the assumption of a given anatomical basis for the actual fact in
+question. If such explanation did not seem to be acceptable, then only
+one other possibility was left open, that of learning. These authors
+never entertain the idea that some specific and orderly function
+might occur without being controlled either by special arrangements
+preëstablished _ad hoc_ or by arrangements acquired in learning. What
+may this third alternative be? Vitalism? We shall see.
+
+In well-established one-way streets what happens at the end of them
+will mainly depend upon what has happened at the entrance. Sensory
+experience will therefore consist of purely local elements of
+experience, the genuine properties of which must depend upon local
+stimuli exclusively. If, for the maintenance of order, the isolation
+of processes in each pathway and in each final cell (of the brain)
+must be absolute, then no influence of processes in other parts of the
+nervous system will be able to alter sensory experience, and so it
+must remain the same whatever the changes of attitude. By enumerating
+the actual properties of all elements at a given time we give an
+exhaustive account of the presented field. This is what has been
+called the summative, or mosaic, character of sensory experience, as
+it is understood from this viewpoint. Evidently, in terms of it, the
+sensory field becomes “inflexible,” exactly as its physiological basis
+is mainly determined by rigid topography. It also becomes “poor,”
+because the variety of experiences is restricted to those indifferent
+patterns of elements which we may find by varying independently the
+properties of the local elements. Any organization of processes in
+the field is excluded because order must be explained by functional
+separation. Specific function, dynamically extended over an area of the
+field, is excluded for the same reason; we have to deal with a purely
+_geometrical_ pattern of _local_ processes.
+
+How “empty” and “dead” does the organism appear in this theory!
+Dynamically, it has nothing to contribute to the monotonous elementary
+currents conducted compulsorily from a point of stimulation to a point
+of reaction. So it becomes an indifferent stage for actors indifferent
+to the stage as well as to each other. As an object of research in
+dynamics it is less interesting than a molecule or a soap-bubble which
+are both of them functional wholes.
+
+If between the field of sensory processes and the effector organs
+conduction is determined in the same manner as, in this theory, it is
+between local stimuli and the elements of that field, a thoroughly
+adequate formula for research in psychology will be: to find out what
+stimuli produce what reactions in the effector organs. The statement
+that stimuli, on the one hand, and reactions, on the other, are the
+only points of interest in psychology, corresponds absolutely to the
+picture of the organism, and especially the nervous system, as lacking
+any characteristic process of its own as a whole. Since other schools
+do not pretend to have new positive ideas about the functioning of
+the nervous system, that seductive formula of behaviorism has found a
+rather general assent as expressing the viewpoint of natural science
+in psychology. Unfortunately, in its present usage, it is not only
+seductive, but also ambiguous and superficial.
+
+From the fact that in this theory dynamics is excluded from the
+determination of order and distribution, one more consequence follows
+immediately. Everywhere in nature dynamical events depend upon the
+properties of those processes and materials which exert influences
+upon one another. In a solution, containing Na_{2}SO_{4} and BaCl_{2},
+BaSO_{4} will be precipitated because of certain properties of Ba,
+SO_{4} and H_{2}O which, in their mutual relations, determine the
+dynamics of the process. Two electric currents will produce mutual
+attraction of their conductors if both have the same direction;
+repulsion, on the other hand, if the direction of one current is
+opposite to that of the other. The rule is general, that “relative
+properties” as exemplified in these cases are decisive for dynamical
+interaction. A theory, therefore, which excludes dynamics from the
+determination of distribution, allowing it the production only of
+elementary nervous current, will have to draw the inference that the
+properties of local processes have no influence whatever upon the total
+distribution in the field. A given local process will be altogether
+indifferent to its neighbors, running its course uninfluenced by their
+existence. All possible patterns may be produced by appropriate sets of
+peripheral stimuli; no mutual forces are admitted which, in the whole
+field, would produce certain definite distributions rather than others.
+A similar consideration in the case of association and reproduction
+will occupy us later on.
+
+When confronted with such an unretouched picture of current assumptions
+about physiological functions, most psychologists will protest. They
+will declare that one should not take too literally what has been
+used rather as an analogy in a preliminary endeavor to develop ideas
+about the processes of the nervous system. Every one admits, moreover,
+that there are cases of “irradiation” in some parts of the tissue! To
+this criticism I must answer that if _all_ analogies chosen, in the
+first tentative picturing of orderly nervous function, are of the same
+type, using topographical arrangements as the basis of order, this
+may be taken as evidence that other analogies do not occur to these
+authors. Preliminary though it may be, it remains a machine-picture,
+and no other has been developed, which is different in principle. As to
+irradiation of current, this concept as such does not mean more than a
+lack of definiteness and accuracy in the machine; it presupposes order
+enforced by strict isolation as the normal case, a slight deviation
+from which is the whole content of the idea. I admit that it makes
+our ideas about nervous functioning a little more nebulous than they
+should be according to the extreme viewpoint of machine theory; but I
+deny that in this manner _order_ of distribution can be or has been
+explained by any one. Granted that all conductors may “leak” a little
+at certain points and that, therefore, local processes may become
+interfused mutually to a certain degree, I am unable to deduce orderly
+distribution or organization from such an indifferent “spreading” or
+interpenetration of essentially isolated units.
+
+Let us compare the consequences of the theory with observation.
+Some relevant data have already been mentioned. Other and much more
+important data will occupy us in the next chapters.
+
+That constancy of brightness and of size cannot be explained by the
+assumption of one-way conduction determining local sensory experience
+in terms of local stimulation does not need further discussion, since,
+because of their incompatibility with that assumption, those facts
+are commonly believed to exemplify the influence of meaning. But now
+that experimentation has shown that the meaning theory does not seem
+to explain them either, neither the empiristic nor the nativistic
+assumptions help us in these cases. So we must try to conceive a third
+kind of nervous function other than the types in which processes are
+strictly directed either by inherited or by acquired arrangements.
+If there is a third reasonable assumption, it will be necessary to
+apply it also in those other cases, such as constancy of form, speed,
+localization, and so forth, which are so similar to constancy of
+brightness and size, that the same explanation should obviously be
+given in all these instances. Quite generally then the alternative
+between empiristic and nativistic hypotheses must be misleading.
+
+The introspective theorem that changes of attitude cannot influence
+“true” sensory experience does not agree better with the facts.
+It seems rather to be an arbitrary definition of “true” sensory
+experience. In observation, at least, if I transform the white in
+the shadow and the black in full light into two similar grays, _by
+“introspection_,” there can be no more radical influence of attitude
+upon sensory experience than this transformation which occurs under
+constant conditions of stimulation. And the same holds wherever
+introspection, destroying natural experience by an artificial
+technique, finds its “true” sensations instead. Fortunately in one
+part of our science at least, this seems to be the prevailing opinion.
+When we analyze a clang we hear several notes appear successively
+in the mass which previously we heard as a _unity_. If in this case
+we agree that under constant conditions of stimulation our attitude
+transforms one sensory reality into others, and that the clang heard as
+one is not less real than the partial tones apparent during analysis,
+we have no right to contradict similar observations in other cases.[18]
+
+As to the statement that sensory experience is a purely local affair,
+each point of a sensory field depending upon “its” local stimulus
+exclusively, we must reiterate that no grounds have ever been given
+for such a radical assumption. Rather it seems to be an _a priori_
+belief about what _ought_ to be the nature of things, experience to the
+contrary notwithstanding. As far as observation goes the properties
+of local retinal stimulation do not simply determine the size, the
+form, the localization and the brightness of local experience; neither
+does retinal speed determine seen speed, as it probably ought to
+according to the thesis that the geometry of retinal facts determines
+spatial experiences. As a matter of observation, all the well-known
+“illusions” may be cited as evidence of the fact that local processes
+depend upon _sets_ of stimuli. To some degree this controversy will
+be settled by pragmatic principles: the decision will go to that side
+whose principles prove most fruitful in the further development of
+psychology. In the meantime, however, we may carry on our analysis of
+the polemical situation at present.
+
+Almost all psychologists agree, in the case of one experience, upon the
+fact that local sensory experience is determined by more than merely
+local stimulation. This case is that of color-contrast, which most
+psychologists suppose to be an effect of interaction in the nervous
+system. If here the point-to-point correlation between retinal stimuli
+and sensory experience is surrendered, because the determination of
+local experience by conditions in a larger area is too evident, how
+can we proceed hereafter as if this discovery and concession had not
+been made? It took science some time before it would accept simple
+observation even in this case. Helmholtz refused to do so and, of
+course, he applied the meaning theory in order to save its fundamental
+belief, i.e., the point-to-point determination of local sensory fact by
+local stimulation. But after the first step has been made, we should
+realize not only that one theory of contrast has taken the place of
+another, but also that instead of applying persistently one general
+principle to all sensory experience, we have begun to accept a new
+one. In the future, wherever experience does not correspond to local
+stimulation, we should, at least, consider the possibility that such
+an experience may depend upon the total set of conditions in a larger
+field, exactly as contrast does. _If_ it does, this may help us to
+understand why changes of attitude affect sensory experience in some
+cases. Sensory experience, which depends upon the constellation of
+stimuli in a larger area, and therefore does not correspond to merely
+local, inflexible units of process, may be influenced by “processes
+of attitude” as well. The most important point, however, seems to be
+that if we find a type of process depending upon _sets_ of stimuli
+instead of single ones, this process may be that “third possibility”
+we are seeking. Certainly, it would neither be like the elementary
+processes of nativistic machine theory, i.e., absolutely determined by
+_inherited_ arrangements, nor like the processes of empiristic theory,
+upon which a similar compulsion is exerted by _acquired_ arrangements.
+
+In the next chapters I shall try to show that other facts, much more
+important than those we have considered hitherto, point exactly in the
+same direction. For the sake of order in nervous function the machine
+theory excludes _organization of process_ in the field. But we shall
+see that organization may be regarded as a typical fact in sensory
+experience. Again the theory excludes the assumption of any specific
+process dynamically extended over an area of the field. But it will
+not be difficult to show that there are experiences in great number
+the specific properties of which belong to _extended wholes_ and do
+not exist in local isolation. This means also that the real variety
+of processes occurring in the sensory field is simply enormous when
+compared with those essentially indifferent patterns of local elements
+which may occur according to the machine theory.
+
+If dynamics are excluded from the determination of distribution, local
+process will correspond everywhere with its stimulus; the actual
+properties of stimulation in their mutual relationships will play
+no rôle in the whole affair, as they would undoubtedly in the case
+of dynamical interaction. Reviewing our observations, however, we
+find that everywhere the aspect of sensory experience depends upon
+the properties of stimuli in their mutual interrelationship. This is
+well known in the case of contrast and tonal fusion, but we may cite
+as well all those observations which were discussed at length in the
+last chapter. Constancy of brightness, for instance, depends upon the
+relation of the illumination and brightness of the neighborhood to the
+brightness of the field in question. That _organization_ in the field
+depends upon the definite “relative properties” of local conditions,
+will be shown in the next chapter.
+
+All these facts make it probable that something is wrong with the
+machine theory; they look as though they might be better understood by
+dynamical theory. Sometimes the observer finds dynamical events quite
+obviously occurring directly within the field. This is particularly
+the case, when sudden stimulation or change of stimulation is followed
+by a _development_ of process. If we cause a bright figure suddenly
+to appear in the dark, this figure will have at once neither its full
+size nor its “right” place. Instead it will appear with an energetic
+movement of extension as well as of approach. At the moment of abrupt
+disappearance, it will appear to have a movement of contraction and
+recession. Obviously, such observations would be exceedingly strange if
+considered in terms of machine theory. Or again, take the surprising
+fact that in touch, as well as in vision and hearing, the distance
+of objects and events may vary considerably if the stimuli are given
+in a certain manner. In some beautiful experiments of von Frey two
+distant points of the arm touched at the same time will appear to
+be one-half the distance apart which they appear to be when touched
+in slow succession. Scholz and Kester have both measured the mutual
+“attraction” which lights as well as sounds show when presented under
+adequate conditions. If the machine theory did not have its inordinate
+historical prestige, no one would hesitate to take these observations
+as evidence of dynamical interaction within the field. The stroboscopic
+movement, which belongs to the same class of observations, has acquired
+a unique importance by the fact that experimentation in this field led
+Wertheimer explicitly to discard the purely summative theory of sensory
+experience, not only for the problem in question but generally.[19] If
+at some distance from each other two stimuli are successively projected
+upon the retina of a subject, a movement will be seen, starting from
+the locus of the first and ending in the region of the second. Under
+favorable conditions there will not even be two “impressions.” One
+“thing” will move from one place to the other--certainly a case of
+dynamics which it would be difficult to understand by the theory of
+isolated local processes. After the more important properties of
+stroboscopic movement were investigated by Wertheimer, Koffka and
+others, there was much discussion, mostly about minor points, which
+almost tended to obscure the main facts. As was to be expected also,
+meaning was rather liberally offered as an explanation. Nevertheless,
+if conditions and the attitude of the observer are not too inadequate,
+we undoubtedly _have_ movement in the visual field. Those who do not
+believe direct experience, where it contradicts the supposed properties
+of “true” sensation, may deduce the “reality” of that movement from
+the fact that, when repeated, it produces an after-image of movement
+in the opposite direction, exactly as “real” movement does. Though,
+historically, Wertheimer’s investigation was the beginning of
+_gestalt_ theory, in the proper meaning of that phrase, the following
+considerations of sensory process will take another slant, because to
+me another way seems more advisable as an introduction.[20]
+
+  There are several well-known arguments which favor the machine
+  theory. I have sometimes heard that it gives us a picture of
+  nervous function which, clear and simple in itself, is the more
+  easy to understand since in practical life we enforce order
+  everywhere in the same manner, i.e., by arrangements _ad hoc_. I
+  must confess that such a policy of the least scientific effort
+  seems to me unacceptable. The comfort and the habits of the
+  scientist do not count where he must deal with the properties of
+  his subject-matter. Furthermore, only the psychologist, neurologist
+  and physiologist will save time and effort by an assumption
+  which explains order by arrangement. They simply hand their
+  problem down to somebody else; wherever, in theory, a problem of
+  function is reduced to one of special arrangements, the science
+  of “morphogenesis” in its ontogenetic and phylogenetic branches
+  is amicably asked to solve it, i.e., to explain the origin of the
+  arrangements. So the avoidance of difficulties in our science
+  means that others have proportionally more difficulties. And,
+  by the way, at some point functional problems must be treated
+  as truly functional. If it is barely possible to understand the
+  ontogenesis of anatomical structure by the working of “special
+  arrangements” in the egg and germ, it would be ridiculous to
+  explain _phylogenesis_ by arrangements which bring it about.
+
+  Yet it will be said that we do have special arrangements
+  guaranteeing definite function in a great many organs of the body.
+  Nobody can deny it, and I shall admit at once that the existence
+  of the optic nerves as a conducting system between the eyes and
+  the brain may be regarded as an example. Still, in our body, there
+  is another conducting system in which a great many substances are
+  transported along with the _blood_. And here, though the conduits
+  are a general arrangement “for transportation,” we do _not_ have
+  special arrangements for carrying each part of the fluid to its
+  right place. What a definite part of the tissue pours into the
+  blood or takes away from it at a given time is not determined
+  by isolating conductors; everywhere it depends upon the actual
+  relationship between the state of the tissue in question and the
+  chemical properties of the blood, and yet normally we have order in
+  the whole affair. The example shows that the existence of “organs”
+  does not allow us to draw any inference about elementary processes
+  being kept in order entirely by machine-arrangements.
+
+  However, I may be forgetting that in physiology and pathology we
+  have much evidence for assuming a “projection” of retinal points
+  upon definite points of the _area striata_ in the brain! I am
+  not certain whether the facts in question prove that between
+  the retina and the _area striata_ conduction is completely a
+  point-to-point affair. But that does not matter, since at the
+  present time neurologists no longer believe that the _area striata_
+  is the terminus of optic processes and that visual experience is
+  concomitant with processes in _this_ area. If up to this region
+  conduction should be a matter of strictly isolated paths, the
+  functional problem we are occupied with would have to be solved in
+  parts beyond the _area striata_.
+
+  I shall be told that the nervous system consists of cells the
+  fibers of which _are_ isolated from each other. I answer that in
+  its gray ganglionic and nuclear fields conditions are different.
+  Here mutual influence is not only possible; it is necessary.
+
+  But what of the all-or-none law? Does it not prove that elementary
+  conduction is a matter of each single nerve fiber, occurring in
+  one definite manner as long as the properties of the conductor
+  remain the same? Experimental investigation of the all-or-none law
+  is not yet complete and, so far as I know, we have no evidence as
+  yet of its application to central fields. Supposing, however, that
+  it holds in brain tissue as it seems to hold in peripheral nerves,
+  the alternative between a strict machine theory of distribution
+  and dynamical conceptions would remain as open as before, because,
+  then, in each part of the nervous system the number of elementary
+  organs taking part in any actual process, i.e., the density of the
+  process, would have to be determined somehow, as would also the
+  frequency of current in each single organ. Both properties of the
+  process may either depend upon given local arrangements or upon
+  dynamical intercourse in the ganglionic tissue. As distribution
+  of energy is a dynamical problem in physics notwithstanding the
+  quantum theory, so the all-or-none law, as a sort of quantum theory
+  in nerve physiology, does not exclude dynamical distribution of
+  process.
+
+  A final argument which maintains that distribution of process by
+  preëstablished and isolating conductors is the only way to explain
+  the order of the field in its relation to the external physical
+  world, seems to have two parts. _First_, it presupposes that
+  dynamical interaction, not controlled by special arrangements
+  at each step, must produce chaos and confusion. We have here the
+  old human prejudice which, in a great many cases of dynamical
+  interaction, is absolutely unwarranted. _Secondly_, as to the
+  relation between the external physical world and the sensory field,
+  the theory of isolated conductors enforcing order would explain a
+  strict correspondence of sensory facts to _retinal stimulation_.
+  But in the last chapter we saw that much experience is exiled “into
+  the dust-cloud” of psychology by introspectionism just because it
+  does _not_ agree at all with the properties of stimulation. To
+  be sure, the constancy of size, form, brightness, localization
+  and speed in the sensory field corresponds fairly well with the
+  constant properties of _physical objects_; but this agreement is
+  _not_ explained by the machine theory of vision which refers to
+  constant relations between local _retinal stimulation_ and local
+  experience.
+
+If we are not satisfied by the alternative between order enforced
+by preëstablished arrangements and order determined by acquired
+arrangements, what else can produce order? For the moment we restrict
+our discussion to sensory processes and return to our statement (cf. p.
+111) that, in physical systems, the relative influence of topographical
+conditions, on the one hand, and of the play of actual forces, on the
+other, may vary enormously. In typical man-made machines the rôle of
+topographical conditions prevails to such an extent that the only
+rôle of dynamics is to drive processes along a path laid down by
+those conditions. This means that typical machines are essentially a
+_special_ type of physical system and that outside the little world
+of man-made machines there exists an immense world of other physical
+systems, in which the direction of processes is not completely
+determined by topographical arrangements.
+
+Let us consider a drop in a current of water which moves through a
+narrow pipe. Why does it move? Because, aside from inertia, pressure
+is higher on one side of it than on the other. But this difference of
+pressure works in one direction only, the walls of the pipe excluding
+all its other effects. Now let us suppose that the pipe disappears
+and that the drop (and the whole column of water in the pipe) becomes
+a part of a larger volume of water. The drop will probably also move
+in its new environment. But now it is exposed to forces on all sides,
+and its movement will be in the direction of the _resultant_ vector
+of force. Obviously this movement is no less necessary than was the
+movement in the pipe, but here there is no local arrangement which can
+determine a single direction as the only one possible. Therefore the
+path of the drop will be determined _dynamically_ in the new case,
+i.e., by resultant force at each moment. It follows that in this
+situation the path which our drop takes will depend upon the dynamical
+situation it encounters at each stage, and that it will change when
+this situation changes. This is one simple example out of millions.
+_In all of them not only movement, or process as such, but also the
+direction and distribution of process is determined_ _dynamically
+by interaction_. It is events of this type which are excluded almost
+completely from machines, and the same type of process is practically
+excluded by standard neurological and psychological theory. _Gestalt_
+psychology sees no ground for its exclusion and rather proposes to give
+this type of process a fundamental rôle in psychological theory.
+
+In the pipe the drop of water moves because movement, under
+differential pressure, is an approach toward equilibrium. Such is
+the effect of forces at all points of all systems. When surrounded
+by water, the movement of the drop will still be an illustration of
+the same rule.[21] The only difference is that now the direction
+of movement, according to the rule, will depend upon the actual
+_dynamical_ situation. If we consider all the drops in the given volume
+of water, we will find the distribution of water gradually changing
+from one moment to the next. But whereas in pipes the distribution of
+the movement in space depends upon the form and the spatial position of
+the pipes, in the “dynamical case” it depends mainly upon the play of
+actual forces. In pipes, order is produced by _exclusion_ of dynamical
+interaction; whatever distribution may result in the “dynamical case”
+is _produced_ by dynamics itself.
+
+At this point our interest concentrates upon this question, whether
+Aristotelians and modern theorists are right in assuming that
+_anything_ may happen in dynamical interaction and that, therefore,
+dynamics is to be regarded almost as a synonym for disorder. What we
+see around us in inorganic nature seems to corroborate that opinion,
+since the blind meeting of forces and processes usually leads to chaos
+and destruction. What we have before us in these cases, however, may
+be described as follows: There is a thing at rest or a process going
+on uniformly; suddenly a new factor impinges upon the first thing or
+process from without, and after a short while, another new influence,
+again independent, is exerted from without, and so forth. Anything
+indeed may happen under these circumstances, and in most cases the end
+result of such fortuitous concurrence is disorder and destruction.
+This, I think, is the picture most men have in mind when they refer to
+dynamics, as though accidental impact were its only form!
+
+There are, however, other cases, much more interesting for our present
+discussion. If in a basin, for instance, water is somehow distributed,
+perhaps in full movement, at a given moment there is a definite
+pressure at each point, and everywhere differences of pressure will
+tend to alter the distribution and the direction of local drops of
+water. Supposing now that the basin itself does not change and that
+no outer influences accidentally impinge upon the system during its
+redistribution, what will the result of continual internal interaction
+be? If we try to find the answer by imagining an indefinite number
+of drops, each moving under the resultant force in its immediate
+proximity, and each again influencing its proximate neighbors by
+that movement,--if we notice that this picture changes continually,
+as the distribution, and, therefore, the actually resultant force at
+each point changes in the smallest fraction of a second,--then we are
+inclined to dismiss the task as beyond our efforts, and to treat the
+events of this field in terms of the confusion or destruction that is
+attributed to nature in the case of accidental impacts.
+
+But in this we are wrong. We are projecting our own confusion into
+the course of objective events. We become guilty of anthropomorphism.
+The physicist has quite a different attitude toward the problem. By
+observation, as well as by theoretical calculation, he is led to the
+conclusion that, generally, undisturbed dynamical interaction will
+produce a definite orderly distribution.
+
+Let us review an example we entertained at the beginning of this
+chapter. To Aristotelian theorists the striking order of astronomical
+movements appeared inexplicable without the assumption of special
+arrangements controlling them. Now in modern times no one believes
+in those crystal spheres. But the order is there! And since the
+stars did not “_learn_” to move so orderly, some factors other than
+preëstablished and acquired topographical arrangements must be able to
+produce and to maintain order in distribution and movement. And in the
+prevalent conception of the solar system, it is continuous dynamical
+interaction, without any topographical arrangements, which produced and
+still maintains the order.
+
+Other examples may be found in all parts of physics and chemistry:
+when two atoms come into their sphere of mutual influence, the play
+of dynamic interaction immediately begins, and, as the case may be,
+depending upon their “relative properties,” they either separate again
+or they form an orderly molecule,--an architectonic structure,--without
+the aid of any arrangements _ad hoc_.
+
+If we suspend a number of straight wires so that they form different
+angles with each other, the whole distribution being irregular,
+electric current entering the wires turns them into parallel lines.
+This is an orderly result of electrodynamic interaction.
+
+Or again, we pour oil into a liquid with which it does not mix. In
+spite of the violent interaction of molecules at their common surface,
+this surface remains sharply determined, not by any arrangement
+enforcing this orderly distribution, but just by the play of surface
+dynamics between the oil and the other liquid. If specific density
+is the same for both liquids, these surface forces will change the
+distribution until the oil forms a regular sphere swimming in the
+other liquid.
+
+I might go on to describe hundreds of examples. In all of them the
+situation would be the same in principle. Dynamical interaction,
+undisturbed by accidental impacts from without, leads to orderly
+distribution, though there are no special preëstablished arrangements.
+
+And what is the explanation of this general tendency in undisturbed
+dynamics? It is simple enough. In all these systems we have one
+resulting force at each point at each instant of time. All the
+resultant forces together form one texture of stresses. From the
+principles of physics one can deduce, therefore, that, _for the system
+as a whole_, the immediate effect of all those forces will have one
+definite direction. At each point the forces will produce changes
+of movement or process which, when considered in their totality,
+bring the system nearer to the balance of the forces themselves. The
+factor of inertia may cause the real course of events to deviate from
+the ideal exemplification of this principle. But where, as in most
+organic systems, inert velocities not corresponding to actual forces
+are destroyed by friction, the real distribution of processes will
+exhibit the principle perfectly, and will finally reach a state of
+stability, of rest or of stationary process. The fact that this state
+will be an _orderly_ distribution has been explained by Ernst Mach as
+follows: In orderly and regular distributions the totality of internal
+stresses will be more balanced than in a state of disorder. Therefore,
+by undisturbed interaction a system approaches order. For all details
+I must refer the reader to the literature quoted at the end of this
+chapter.[22]
+
+_Dynamical self-distribution_ is the third kind of functional concept
+which I propose to add to psychological theory, in addition to
+distribution enforced by inherited arrangements and order determined
+by acquired arrangements. More concretely and for the visual field,
+my assumption is that the order and distribution in this field is in
+each case the result of dynamical interaction. From this viewpoint the
+processes underlying the visual field in a state of _rest_ represent
+the equilibrated distribution of sensory dynamics under actually given
+conditions. When not at rest, sensory dynamics will be in a state of
+_developing dynamical distribution_.
+
+Though the direction of local process in a system is not altogether
+determined by local arrangement, the result of dynamical
+self-distribution as a whole may still depend upon topographical
+conditions (cf. pp. 112-113). Thus the electric current in a network
+of wires is distributed dynamically; yet the actual distribution
+as a whole depends upon the position of the electrodes and upon
+the conductivities in all the conductors. Similarly, the totality
+of processes in the optical part of the nervous system will depend
+upon given conditions in each case. For the moment, though this will
+prove to be an inexact assumption when it is examined more closely, I
+shall suppose that in the interior of the optical network the general
+conditions of conduction remain constant. But, then, as a set of
+peripheral conditions, we have the patterns of different chemical
+reactions on the retina, as they are produced in each case by actual
+stimulation. Upon these varying conditions the self-distribution
+of process will depend primarily. If neurologists are correct when
+they assert that between the retina and the _area striata_ of both
+hemispheres, conduction is a matter of isolated pathways, then the
+_area striata_ will be a sort of “central retina,” in which the pattern
+of retinal stimulation is copied by a pattern of central processes. In
+this case _dynamical_ distribution will begin here, depending upon the
+actual pattern of processes in the occipital lobes.
+
+It will be evident that the task such a theory must face is enormously
+more difficult than that of machine theory. Where arrangements are
+altogether responsible for distribution, the concrete dynamical
+properties of process are of little concern. If we do not know about
+them, it does not matter very much. In dynamical theory, on the
+contrary, the whole development of the theory requires that we know
+those properties of the process. And since as yet physiology is not
+very instructive concerning them, the extension of the theory depends
+instead upon the assumptions which we make. Experimentation on visual
+experiences will have to give us the necessary hints for making our
+hypotheses, and the consequences of our hypotheses will then have to be
+tested by experiments of the same sort. At the present time only the
+first steps have been made in this direction, and it will take us a
+long time before we feel firm ground under our feet. Let us remember,
+however, that all the perplexities we may find on our way, and all
+the mistakes we make in its course, are not to be referred to the
+fundamental concept of self-distribution by interaction; they should be
+referred to the particular assumptions concerning process, force and
+interaction, which we have made.
+
+As an example which will make our analysis more concrete, I shall
+introduce one special problem. If from a given pattern, either on
+the retina or on the “central retina,” processes start into the
+conducting network beyond, and if their distribution is determined
+dynamically, why should differences among the processes, corresponding
+to differences in color, be preserved on the way? This is generally
+the case: to the accurate retinal contour of the image of a letter
+on a white page corresponds the sharp outline of the letter in my
+visual field. If the totality of processes issuing from the area of
+the letter remains detached somehow from the processes surrounding it,
+we may understand, perhaps, how even in dynamical distribution the
+most essential and crude geometrical properties of retinal pattern may
+be sustained. But how can one set of processes remain detached from
+the rest in dynamical theory? This embarrassing question certainly
+could not occur for the assumption of isolated pathways. My answer
+is based on the fundamental principle of the theory. If under these
+circumstances one set of processes remains detached from the rest there
+must be dynamical factors at work. Generally, processes corresponding
+to a definitely colored area will have definite properties as a class
+of processes, different from the properties of a class of surrounding
+processes which corresponds to another color. They will remain
+segregated in the nervous network if we suppose that in the ganglionic
+fields, where they “touch” each other, their differential properties
+provide _separating forces of contact_, so that they mutually exclude
+each other. Take as an example the contact of oil and water. Here
+interaction is so strong that the form of the surface is determined
+by it; but this surface as such remains a sharp boundary and the
+drop of oil remains detached from the water by those same molecular
+forces which, at the time, mold the form of the drop. I shall assume,
+then, that, in optical processes, contours are preserved by similar
+forces of antagonistic contact, depending upon differences in the
+properties on the two sides of the contour. From this viewpoint,
+interaction will thus determine general distribution; it will also
+have an influence upon size and form, and so forth, but it will not
+generally “dissolve” processes, corresponding to a homogeneous area of
+color, in the surrounding processes. This may seem a bold hypothesis.
+But recent experiments have shown that this assumption is in the
+right direction. It would be surprising if _all_ process differences
+should act as separating surface forces of the kind just described in
+the case of color, for in physics such forces exist between oil and
+water, for instance, but not between water and alcohol, or a great
+many other pairs of different materials. Indeed, when reëxamining the
+results of older experimental investigations, Liebmann[23] proved that,
+whereas very slight differences of brightness gave sharp contours,
+neighboring areas of different color, even with maximal differences
+of chroma _alone_, will show mutual diffusion.[24] We may conclude,
+then, that mainly differences of brightness provide effective forces
+of separation. Under normal conditions neighboring areas of different
+chroma will almost always be different in brightness. Therefore, sharp
+contours on the retina will in most cases give accurate contours in the
+visual field.
+
+Without further discussion we can draw a rather important conclusion.
+We are accustomed to regard order enforced by rigid arrangements as
+exceptionally secure. If, however, the order of sensory experience
+be conceived as the result of sensory dynamics, this will seem to
+most people like explaining the quiet life of an orderly citizen as
+the outcome of many moral struggles and catastrophes. But, in this
+connection, the chief point is that in those cases in which the machine
+theory of visual order seems to be most convincing, dynamical theory
+gives exactly the same results. As an example we may take the symmetry
+of a seen circle, corresponding to the symmetry of its retinal image.
+Is it necessary to explain this correspondence by insulated conductors
+which maintain the geometrical properties of the retinal image all
+along the line of those processes underlying visual experience? By no
+means. Assuming that surface forces of separation keep the processes
+of the circle distinct from the surrounding processes, the dynamical
+influences exerted upon the processes of the circle will be the same in
+all directions,[25] if, in the immediate neighborhood of the circle,
+surrounding processes are homogeneous. Therefore, if the network has
+the same conducting properties throughout that part of the nervous
+system, i.e., if it is functionally “homogeneous,” there will be
+not the slightest reason why the symmetry of the process should be
+disturbed. In this case, dynamical theory gives the same result, then,
+which until now has been rather clumsily explained by preëstablished
+arrangements _ad hoc_.
+
+Since the rôle dynamics plays is so slight in contemporary theory,
+it may seem very strange to some psychologists. Hence I wish to make
+the following statement expressly: _these concepts do not contain a
+single thought in the direction of vitalism_. It is true that a number
+of difficulties may be removed by them, difficulties which vitalism
+can still raise quite properly against the claims of unqualified
+“mechanistic” ideas. But, in our field of research, “mechanistic” ideas
+have almost always been explanations by topographical arrangements,
+and “dynamical” ideas, the type of idea prevalent in general physics,
+occurred no more to the mechanist than to the vitalist.
+
+I shall not try to develop more detailed theorems about sensory
+dynamics until we become further acquainted with the main facts and
+their significance. Some consequences of dynamical theory will be
+obvious at once. From this viewpoint, sensory experience is allowed to
+be as _fluid_ and _manifold_ as, to observation, it reveals itself.
+Furthermore, as local processes are not isolated,--their existence
+and their actual properties depending upon the dynamical context in
+a larger area,--the visual field may prove to be _organized_. In this
+case, as everywhere in physics, organization will be found to depend
+upon what I have called the “relative properties” of stimulation. We
+may eventually find specific properties in experience characteristic
+of extended areas and not analyzable into local sensations, just as
+existence exclusively as _functional wholes_ is a property of many
+dynamical states in physics. The next chapters will be concerned with
+the development of these matters.
+
+
+BIBLIOGRAPHY
+
+  K. Koffka: _The Growth of the Mind_. 1924.
+
+  W. Köhler: _Die physischen Gestalten in Ruhe und im stationären
+  Zustand_. 1920.
+
+  W. Köhler: _Gestaltprobleme und Anfänge einer Gestalttheorie_. 1924.
+
+  W. Köhler: _Komplextheorie und Gestalttheorie_. Psychol. Forsch. 6.
+  1925.
+
+  W. Köhler: _Zur Theorie der Regulation_. Arch. f. Entwicklungsmech.
+  1927.
+
+  M. Wertheimer: _Untersuchungen zur Lehre von der Gestalt, I_.
+  Psychol. Forsch. 1. 1921.
+
+  M. Wertheimer: _Drei Abhandlungen zur Gestalttheorie_. 1925.
+
+
+
+
+V
+
+_Sensory Organization_
+
+
+A DYNAMICAL distribution will be rightly regarded as a functional
+whole. Take, for example, a simple electric circuit: the differences
+of potential and the densities of current distribute themselves
+along the conductors in such a manner that a stable or stationary
+state is produced and maintained. No part of this distribution is
+self-sufficient; local processes depend throughout upon the totality of
+the distribution.
+
+If a similar conception is to be applied to the processes underlying
+sensory experience, we must avoid a mistake. Protesting against the
+atomism which had been introduced into the treatment of sensory
+experience, William James once said that, in the sensory field, local
+experiences are interwoven with their neighbors in a manner which is
+beyond the grasp of purely intellectual theory. He seems to think that,
+in original sensory experience, there is uniform continuity and that
+all cuts and boundaries are introduced later on for pragmatic reasons.
+
+From the viewpoint of _gestalt_ psychology such a statement does
+not correspond to the facts. In the last chapter we saw that,
+notwithstanding the general dynamical interdependence throughout the
+field, there may be boundaries in it where forces of “segregation” and
+“separation” take the place of those of “coherence” operating elsewhere.
+
+Indeed, in the visual field, for instance, we have two kinds of order.
+One of them is the order with which we found the machine theory
+occupied in its effort to explain how a given local process is properly
+placed between its neighbors, and not confused therewith. However,
+there is another order in the field which has escaped the attention of
+many psychologists, though it is not less important than the first. In
+most visual fields the contents of certain areas “belong together,”
+so that we have circumscribed, or bounded, units before us, from
+which their surroundings are excluded. If James did not admit this
+organization of the field as a sensory fact, the reason for it was the
+enormous power of the theory of meaning, which has been an obdurate
+obstacle to our seeing important problems, more in this connection
+than elsewhere. For the same reason there may be only a few readers
+who will not quarrel with the next paragraphs as long as they see any
+possibility of so doing.
+
+When I look at the desk before me I find quite a number of
+circumscribed units which appear detached and segregated in the field:
+a piece of paper as against the surface of the desk, a pencil, an
+eraser, a cigarette, and so forth. In all these cases there are two
+mutually dependent conditions. The existence of a unit involves its
+segregation from its surroundings. In order to satisfy myself that
+I am here talking about realities, I may try to form other units
+consisting of parts of those objects and parts of their environment
+taken together. In some cases my attempt will be a complete failure. In
+others, where, for some reason, there is greater success, the result is
+so strange that it indicates by contrast what a specific reality the
+original organization was.
+
+But the reader says: Of course, you are somehow talking about
+realities. Still, something may be real psychologically without
+belonging to sensory experience proper. How can you forget for a moment
+that a piece of paper, a pencil, a cigarette, are objects known by use!
+You have handled them during many years and so you had more opportunity
+than you needed for learning that they _behave_ practically as units.
+This previous experience being projected into your field of vision,
+why do you lay so much stress upon a simple fact which is widely known
+and well explained, and which has been accounted for ever since, or
+probably even before, Aristotle wrote his textbook of psychology. My
+answer will be more extensive than this argument. Until we are able
+to prevent such superficial applications of the meaning principle,
+there can be little agreement about the most elementary problems of
+_gestalt_ psychology. Who in the world would deny that a piece of
+paper, a pencil, and so on, are well-known objects? That I know their
+uses and their names by previous experience and that hence they are
+full of “meaning,” shall also be granted without hesitation. But from
+these facts there is a large step to the statement that neither the
+paper nor the pencil would exist _as segregated units_ in my visual
+field without that previous knowledge about their practical behavior
+and use. It may be that before I had that knowledge the same things
+occurred in the sensory field as units, unknown and unnamed, but still
+as segregated wholes. When I see a _green_ object, I can tell the name
+of the color immediately; furthermore I know that green is used as a
+signal on railroad tracks and also as a symbol of hope. But I do not
+believe that, therefore, the color green _as such_ must be explained
+by meaning. Existing independently it has acquired several secondary
+properties in my lifetime and I agree with the reader in praising all
+the advantages which this kind of learning holds for all of us. In
+exactly the same manner, sensory units may have acquired names and may
+have become richly symbolic in the context of our knowledge, while
+existing, nevertheless, as segregated units in the sensory field prior
+to such accretions. Such is the conception which _gestalt_ psychology
+offers to defend. It even goes so far as to hold that it is precisely
+the original organization and segregation of circumscribed wholes which
+make it possible for the sensory world to appear so utterly imbued
+with meaning to the adult, because, in its gradual entrance into the
+sensory field, meaning follows the lines drawn by natural organization.
+It usually enters into segregated wholes.
+
+If the explanation by meaning were correct, wholes should be segregated
+in the field only insofar as they are recognized as definite known
+objects. But this is not the case. Looking into a dark corner or
+walking through mist in the evening, the reader will frequently have
+found before him an unknown something, detached from its environment
+as one whole, the use or the meaning of which he did not discover
+until after a more detailed observation. Walking through an unknown
+country at night, I have often had such an unrecognized whole in the
+field for several minutes. It is evident to me, therefore, that my
+knowledge about the practical behavior of things does not determine
+their existence as detached units. The same argument may be restated in
+a more general form. Whenever we say to ourselves or others: Now, look
+here! What may that something there be, at the foot of that hill, just
+to the right of the next tree, between those two houses, and so on?--we
+ask about the meaning or the use of that something, demonstrating by
+our very question that segregation is independent of knowledge and
+meaning. As, in physics, a molecule is segregated as a functional unit,
+so definite wholes seem to be dynamically detached in the sensory field.
+
+But so fond are we of our empiristic convictions that, in this
+predicament, the explanation by meaning will immediately assume another
+form. Your unknown whole, seen in the mist, so the reader will say,
+appears as something separate, because it is darker, for instance, than
+the gray mist around. I admit that no _special_ knowledge about this
+definite group of sensations, as meaning a particular object through
+past experience, is needed for unifying and segregating it. But you
+under-rate the wonderful achievements of previous experience if you
+restrict its effects to particular cases. We have always observed that
+a set of adjacent sensations, possessing almost the same quality,
+different from that of the environment, “behave together,” i.e., move
+and are moved, appear and disappear, at the same time. This is the case
+with stones, with papers, with hats, with boots, with many animals,
+with leaves. As physical objects they are bound together, so that
+physically they move as units. It is only one example of the well-known
+generalizing power of memory if now we treat as units and even believe
+we _see_ as units _all_ groups of adjacent sensations which are more
+or less homogeneously colored and sufficiently different from their
+surroundings. So we must not be astonished by the fact that, in the
+mist for instance, an area of darker nuance is seen as one individual
+something, though we may be unable to tell its _special_ use or meaning.
+
+I am not satisfied, however, by this form of the theory either. Units
+are formed and segregated in the field in a great many cases where
+this rather bold explanation does not apply. Take all units consisting
+of separate parts! If we look up at the sky on a clear night, some
+constellations of stars are seen immediately as belonging together
+and as detached from their environment. Cassiopeia is an example, the
+Dipper is another. In past ages people saw the same groups as belonging
+together and at the present time children do not need instruction in
+order to perceive them as units. In Fig. 1 the reader has before him
+two definite groups of patches. Why not merely six patches? Or two
+other groups? Or three groups of two members each? Looking passively
+at the figure every one beholds those particular groups in the field,
+two units being segregated, each containing three definite patches.
+What about generalized meaning in these cases? No previous experience
+could separate Cassiopeia from the other fixed stars around it. As far
+as everyday experience goes, they all move together. And no hint at the
+generalizing properties of memory will help here. We cannot possibly
+assert that we have _learnt_ to see a number of separate patches,
+similar to each other and different from the environment, as one thing
+or one group, because they move together regularly. They are very far
+from doing that. On the desk in my room are sitting five flies which
+are five black dots as I see them from where I am. These dots begin
+to move separately and to move in different directions. So do three
+yellow leaves which a breeze lifts from the ground separately; so again
+three stones which my hand moves, one after the other. My general
+experience is that, at least as often as not, similar members of a
+group, which are separated by the common background, are movable and
+move _independently_. If, nevertheless, in this case definite groups
+are formed and segregated, this happens despite our general previous
+knowledge about the behavior of their members.
+
+[Illustration: Fig. 1]
+
+Investigating _which_ separate “patches” tend to become included in one
+group, we find that, among other factors, their equality or similarity
+and their common difference from other “patches,” favor their becoming
+grouped together and their segregation from others. So we see that in
+the case of separate members the same rule holds, without the influence
+of meaning, which was said to explain unknown _continuous_ wholes
+under the influence of generalized previous knowledge (cf. p. 153).
+Consequently, in this latter case, the indirect genesis of groupings
+through previous experience is not needed any more than it is where
+separate members form groups. The grouping of separate members is
+used in one of our tests for color-blindness: A rectangular field is
+filled with dots at equal distances from each other. For the normal eye
+certain groups of them belong together and are seen segregated from
+the rest at once, and since these groups form written numbers, normal
+persons will read the numbers without difficulty. The dots in question
+have similar chroma and are sufficiently different from the others to
+appear as one group which, as a whole, is recognized immediately. But
+for those color-blind people who do not perceive the given differences
+of chroma, no group will be segregated spontaneously, so that they
+do not see and cannot read the numbers. In this example, the general
+acquaintance with numbers is the same for both normal and color-blind
+subjects. Therefore, the striking difference as to grouping depends
+directly upon sensory conditions.
+
+Groups consisting of separate members have a special interest for
+theory insofar as they also prove that one unit segregated in the field
+may at the same time belong to a larger unit. One dot in our last
+example represents a continuous detached area; still it is a member of
+a larger whole, the number, which as a larger unit is again segregated
+in the whole field. There is nothing peculiar or mystical in such a
+subordination, since, in physics, a molecule as a larger functional
+whole contains several atoms as subordinate wholes. The atoms belong
+to the molecule functionally; still they do not altogether lose their
+functional individuality in that dynamical whole.
+
+Following the casual observations of others, Wertheimer was the
+first to see the fundamental importance of spontaneous grouping in
+sensory fields and to demonstrate, by a great many examples, the main
+principles upon which it depends. Most of his illustrations entail
+the grouping of separate dots or lines, because, by using meaningless
+constellations in this manner, it is easier to guard the demonstration
+against disturbing arguments and criticism in terms of previous
+knowledge. He has pointed out most clearly, however, that the same
+principles may hold for all formation and segregation of wholes. I
+do not know a better introduction to these problems than is given by
+Wertheimer’s paper of 1923.[26] The reader is asked to make himself
+acquainted with them by studying it. Some of the principles are easy
+to understand. We have already considered one of them, which claims
+that the equal and the similar tend to form units separated from what
+is dissimilar to them. Where we have no differences of quality, or
+other properties, among the members, relative distance will often be
+decisive. In one of our examples _two_ groups (of three members each)
+are formed, because among the six patches some distances are small as
+compared with others, those patches, the distances separating which
+are relatively small, belonging together in one group. In some cases,
+perhaps the most interesting ones, it seems more natural to define the
+rule of grouping not by given conditions, but by the tendency toward
+certain results. As the physicist is accustomed to say that surface
+tension works in the line of reduction of surface, so in the sensory
+field grouping will produce certain wholes rather than others. We may
+say that simple and regular wholes, or closed areas, are formed more
+easily and more generally than irregular, or “broken,” and open wholes.
+It becomes evident here that, in contrast to the indifferent mosaic
+of sensations assumed in older theory, this order of the field shows
+a strong “predilection” for certain general kinds of organization
+as against others, exactly as the formation of molecules and the
+working of surface forces in physics operates in certain definite
+directions.[27]
+
+Recently the nature of grouping as a sensory and elementary fact has
+been demonstrated in the most convincing manner by experiments which
+Hertz has made on birds (_Garrulus glandarius_).[28] A number of little
+flower-pots are put upon the ground upside down. If the rather tame
+bird, sitting high up on a branch, sees that the experimenter puts
+some food under one of the pots, he will come down very soon, lift the
+pot and take the food. This is a simple form of “delayed reaction” as
+Hunter investigated it years ago. In these experiments, however, the
+main point was not the _delay_ of reaction as such, but its dependence
+upon the actual constitution of the field. The bird reacts without
+difficulty if there is one pot only. But when there is more than one
+everything depends upon whether the “right” pot in some way stands
+out from the rest in the aggregate. If it is put in a regular line
+with the others so that, for human vision, it becomes absorbed as one
+indifferent member in a series, the bird lifts one pot or another
+in a haphazard way, even if the distances between them are as large
+as 25 cm. As soon, however, as, by grouping, the right pot becomes
+something strikingly apart, i.e., segregated from the rest for the
+human observer, the bird selects the right object at once. So in the
+case of Fig. 2, in which the right pot is physically only 10 cm. apart
+from a straight line of other pots, it is chosen at once. Obviously,
+here, the line of other pots is a well-bound whole and the one pot a
+segregated thing by itself for the bird as it is for man. Even in the
+situation of Fig. 3, where the right object is 6 cm. from the next
+and this 2 cm. from the last, grouping is definite enough to allow an
+accurate reaction. But in the case of Fig. 4, where the right object
+is 3 cm. apart from the next and this 2 cm. from the last, reactions
+become a matter of chance. The bird cannot keep the right pot apart
+before reacting, unless definite grouping helps him to do so. If the
+grouping is very well determined for man, however, the bird will have
+no difficulties at all, though the right object may be in immediate
+contact with its next neighbor. In the situation of Fig. 5, 12 pots
+are arranged so that they form a closed ellipse for human vision. The
+right pot is put close to one of the other twelve. The human observer
+will have before him one closed whole and one object outside. The bird
+chooses the right one at once. This example seems to me particularly
+valuable, because it shows that single objective distances as such are
+not decisive, but rather the grouping which results from the _total_
+constellation. How Hertz was able to demonstrate similar effects by
+the application of other principles, as, for instance, differences
+in size or chroma, may be better appreciated by reading the original
+paper. To me these experiments seem to open an altogether new field
+of research in animal psychology, providing we give up our somewhat
+conservative and negativistic mood in this branch of science, and begin
+to believe in the possibility of new problems. But as that negativism
+has not yet disappeared completely, I should remark that, if grouping
+is demonstrated in these birds as a “sensory fact,” it does not imply
+“consciousness” in the animals. From our viewpoint, it is true, this
+does not matter very much (cf. above Chapter II). One thing is proved,
+however, that grouping occurs in sensory processes.
+
+[Illustration: Fig. 2]
+
+[Illustration: Fig. 3]
+
+[Illustration: Fig. 4]
+
+[Illustration: Fig. 5]
+
+By further experimentation it must be possible to find out how far
+birds and other animals see _continuous_ wholes, segregated in the
+field, as man does; though even now it would be difficult to understand
+the behavior of those birds, and their reactions to grouping, if the
+pots themselves were not detached units in their field. In any case
+the elementary nature of continuous wholes is demonstrated by certain
+observations on the first reactions of congenitally blind persons after
+they have been operated upon. Generally, the problems most interesting
+to the ophthalmologist in those cases are those of visual depth and
+of an original similarity between forms in vision and forms in touch.
+Results have been discussed in several ways, but in most of the cases
+one side of the observed facts is not given adequate attention. It is
+generally true that when the patient is asked about an object, known by
+touch from previous life, but given him the first time optically and
+without the help of touch, there is no satisfactory answer; with a very
+few exceptions the patient does not recognize those forms directly.
+Still there is something very positive in his reactions: When asked
+about “that something” which he has before him, _he understands the
+question_. Obviously he has before him some thing as a segregated
+unit, to which he refers the question and which he tries to name. At
+least, if the object is a simple and compact form, the patient does not
+have to _learn_ what “aggregate of sensations” he shall “treat as one
+thing.” Thus elementary organization is an original sensory fact.
+
+In Wertheimer’s paper on sensory grouping one finds the same problem
+discussed in the case of wholes of a somewhat different sort. As
+we experience _time_, it has some properties in common with space,
+particularly with one dimension of it, namely its sagittal axis with
+man as the center. Therefore, words referring to relations on this
+axis are used as terms for temporal relations everywhere and in all
+languages. In English we have something “before” or “behind” us in both
+meanings; we look “forward” in space as in time, and death will come
+“nearer” in time, as one place is nearer to me in space than another.
+Perhaps, physiologically, there is a corresponding similarity between
+the two, because, with respect to the organization and segregation
+of extended units, we find the same general principles determining
+temporal order which are known to us from the visual field in a state
+of rest. By approaching my hand now and then for two-second intervals
+to the opening of an organ pipe which is sounding continually, I can
+lower the pitch slightly. In hearing, the effect will be a segregation
+of the corresponding number of auditory units, the constant tone
+appearing as general background and the somewhat different notes as
+so many “patches” singled out from it. Of course, there are no such
+units in the physical stimulation. Physically we have thousands of
+waves of equal or different wave-length, all of them following each
+other indifferently. It hardly needs to be mentioned that in the same
+manner an appropriate succession of visual stimuli will be found to
+result in temporal unification and segregation. The same thing is true
+of touch and other senses. Again, “temporal dots” will readily form
+“temporal groups” in all these cases, the groups containing the dots as
+subordinate units and so forth.
+
+It is in these _groups_ that the principles of temporal organization
+are recognized most easily. With my finger I tap on the desk three
+times at very short intervals and, after waiting for a second, I
+repeat the tapping. People who hear this sequence for a while get
+groups in time. Physically each sound is indifferent to every other;
+they are independent events as the stars of Cassiopeia are practically
+independent. Logically, other forms of grouping are quite possible
+which do not occur, however, in the experience of an observer who
+is listening calmly. Therefore, the groups, as we observe them,
+represent an example of physiological or, if one likes, psychological
+organization. The principle determining it in this case is relative
+distance in time exactly as relative distance in space was a principle
+of grouping in the simultaneously presented visual field. If all
+the intervals are made equal, we still get groups when introducing
+differences of intensity or quality in the series, especially when
+the tapping is done according to a simple regular scheme. In temporal
+sequences equality or similarity plays the same rôle as against
+differences of properties, which we have found in the visual field.
+
+[Illustration: Fig. 6]
+
+In the most general case of sensory organization both space and time
+are involved in the same experience of grouping. A simple example will
+show what is meant: In a dark room we move a lamp hidden in a box, so
+that one bright point is the only thing visible on the dark ground.
+Let us suppose that the point moves in the following form without a
+change in speed: _vide_ Fig. 6. A naïve observer will describe what he
+has seen as three curious figures, or three movements (I, II, III);
+perhaps he will correct himself after a while and say that there were
+seven movements (1, I, 2, II, 3, III, 4). But he will not say that he
+saw 53 or 16 or 29 movements! Now, as applied to the number of optical
+stimuli which impinge serially upon his retinæ as quite independent
+events, there is no reason why one of the larger numbers should be
+less correct than three or seven. But, in experience, instead of an
+indifferent series we again find a definite product of organization.
+The reader will have realized already that with respect to a more
+complex experience such as I may have if I see some one “nodding twice”
+or “shaking his head a few times,” there is much in the experience
+that is not covered by our present discussion; but, neglecting the
+meaning of those particular movements, he will also realize that there
+is a sensory organization of the given movements into “two” or “a few”
+sub-wholes.
+
+This seems to be an appropriate place to mention an indirect
+explanation of organization and grouping, preferred by some of the
+best psychologists in America. If I understand them rightly, a few
+of them claim that the overt movements which we make when responding
+to stimuli will produce the facts in question. Others would say that
+one particular kind of experience, namely, the kinesthesis occurring
+during such movements, is responsible for organization and grouping. In
+order to answer certain obvious objections, the first will say that in
+adults mere _tendencies_ to movement will suffice instead of the overt
+movements which occurred originally. Similarly, the other hypothesis
+assumes that even faint reproductions of past kinesthetic experiences
+will be sufficient to explain organization of other (e.g., visual)
+experiences in the adult.
+
+In either case, whether the tendency toward movement, or kinesthetic
+experience, is taken as decisive, the fundamental question will be how
+these factors produce a definite organization, apparent in the visual
+field, or elsewhere. As far as I can see the only answers are, in the
+first case, that our overt movements are organized in exactly the
+same manner physiologically which, to naïve observation, is plainly
+given, for instance, in the visual field; or, in the second case, that
+kinesthetic experiences, and perhaps their reproductions, exhibit
+that organization. Whatever the process may be, by which organization
+is supposed to be introduced into the chief sensory field, which for
+most persons is that of vision, it cannot be imported without existing
+beforehand in whichever region it is said to have its origin. As
+long as we consider peripheral movements or sequences of kinesthetic
+experiences as a series of instantaneous events which follow each
+other independently and indifferently, it will hardly be possible to
+use them to explain the occurrence of definite segregated wholes and
+groups anywhere. Let us take the bright point moving in dark space as
+an example. If we say that the observer talks about three or seven
+movements in this case, because he makes or experiences three or seven
+eye-movements, we are presupposing the same organization in the
+temporal and spatial sequence of eye-movements, or the experiences of
+them, which I personally seem to have in the visual field _as such_.
+Otherwise the observer might as well report 53 or 29 or any other
+number of events, for apart from organization such an enumeration would
+be no more arbitrary than that of three or seven parts.
+
+I was once told that all the observations of _gestalt_ psychology are
+very old and have long been explained by the kinesthetic experiences
+which occur during eye-movements. This sounds as though a hint about
+the kinesthetic experiences accompanying vision were satisfactory as
+an explanation of the phenomena of visual organization. But we see
+that, instead of having solved the problem, we have only shifted it
+from one place to another, for now we have to solve the problem of
+the segregation of wholes in the temporal and spatial extension of
+kinesthetic experiences.
+
+I shall not deny that the problem of organization exists in the field
+of movements and kinesthetic experiences. On the contrary, I am
+convinced that the facts in either of these fields cannot be understood
+rightly without taking our point of view. But why should movements and
+the processes underlying kinesthetic experience be the only material
+capable of being organized, or of being treated from the viewpoint of
+_gestalt_ theory? If organization is physiologically possible in one
+field, why not in others? In order to explain the apparent organization
+of visual experience by accompanying motor experiences, one must assume
+spatial as well as temporal organization of these motor phenomena. I
+do not see any reason why such organization should be excluded from
+optics and acoustics. If there are some more general grounds for the
+exclusion, I am not yet aware of them. In the meantime we shall not
+discuss the difficulties which would arise, were we to try to explain
+_concrete_ particular cases of visual organization by motor phenomena,
+for in the next chapter we shall again return to the question of
+indirect explanations of organization.
+
+After what has been said about organization, we cannot be surprised
+to learn that serious lesions in the optical center of the brain may
+produce a kind of “blindness” in persons, who at the same time are not
+deprived of vision. Careful examination of such a case by Gelb and
+Goldstein[29] has shown that, here, the field of vision has undergone
+a radical change, organization having disappeared almost completely,
+so that the field shows a more or less chaotic character. Where he
+fixes his attention, the patient is able to grasp some small fraction
+of a line, for instance, but he can no longer see extended wholes as
+clear-cut forms. It is particularly interesting to observe that this
+patient begins spontaneously to rely to a great degree upon motor
+experience instead of vision. Following the fractions of contours,
+which are clearer to him, with movements of the eye, he is able in
+time to build up motor wholes and to recognize them. So, if his name
+is written on a blackboard, he will follow the first letters and
+soon guess the rest. But it is possible to exclude this procedure by
+a simple trick: draw a few lines, which have the same color as the
+letters, across the name. Since to the patient the name is never given
+optically as one simultaneously and well-organized whole, and since
+now he does not see it as one thing and the crossing lines as another
+pattern apart from it, he will follow parts of a letter or parts of
+the crossing lines indifferently. The result is that he cannot read
+the name under these circumstances. The example shows, by the way, how
+much motor function, accompanying vision, depends itself upon normal
+visual organization. Organization being a matter of extended regions
+of the field, wherever only local fractions may become organized to
+some degree, the _control_ which organization in a large area normally
+exerts upon the motor function, is made impossible, and results like
+those I have just mentioned become inevitable.
+
+But why should wholes, detached by the operations of sensory dynamics,
+correspond so generally to objects, or things, in the practical meaning
+of the words? Do we have to assume that a surprising harmony is
+established between the laws of sensory dynamics and the area or the
+limits of physical things around us? No such assumption need be made,
+for there are exceptions to the correspondence of sensory organization
+and physical units. Take all the cases of groups of separate members,
+the constellations in the sky, the examples of dots forming definite
+groups (Fig. 1) above, the instances of grouping in ornaments, the
+parts of which are, in their physical nature, indifferent to each
+other, i.e., without functional interrelation. In countless cases
+organization is a sensory reality without there being a corresponding
+physical unit. Also, continuous sensory wholes may occur in the absence
+of an homologous physical unit. The reader himself at some time has
+seen a strange object, perfectly unknown to him, which later on,
+perhaps after some movement of his head and eyes, metamorphosed into
+a single well-known thing and some part of another one, these two
+together having been, at first, unified and segregated as one unknown
+whole. The same example shows that sometimes to a definite physical
+object there does not correspond a sensory unit, because in vision
+its parts have been absorbed by surrounding areas which happen to
+have qualities appropriate to this effect. This was the case in the
+puzzle-pictures which years ago amused the readers of magazines. And in
+the last war it became a real art to make things, guns, cars, boats,
+disappear at some distance by painting upon them an irregular design,
+the parts of which would form indifferent spots by intermingling with
+parts of their environment. The objects themselves are destroyed as
+optical realities and in their place appear meaningless patches which
+do not arouse military suspicion, since similar patches are produced
+constantly by the accidental properties of country and sea.
+
+On the other hand, it is not difficult to explain why visual units in
+general correspond to physical objects. The things around us are either
+made by man or are products of nature. Objects of the first class are
+prepared for our purposes. Therefore, we give them a form and surface,
+etc., so that they are likely to be seen without difficulty. Without
+knowing the principles of sensory organization in an abstract form, man
+works in conformity with them, and so the physical units which are the
+products of his art will appear as visual units. Furthermore, it is
+not easy to create a somewhat compact object which, when placed in a
+simple environment, would not fulfill the general conditions of visual
+segregation. Camouflage is a difficult art.
+
+With objects produced by nature, the situation is not altogether
+different. A condition fulfilled by most natural things is the presence
+of one class of surface properties in contact with another class of
+surrounding surface properties. This difference is due to the fact
+that the common origin of the parts of one thing will probably make
+them similar, whereas in the surroundings the surface properties
+will generally be of a different character. Therefore, one condition
+of visual segregation is given in the case of most things. Even if
+a stone lies half-embedded in the sand, which is nothing but tiny
+fractions of the same kind of stone, the difference of coherence, and
+therefore of “inner detail,” between the surface-elements of the stone
+and those of the sand will be sufficient in most cases to make the
+stone optically one thing. At least, at the boundary between a natural
+object and its surroundings some discontinuity of properties almost
+universally prevails. This discontinuity separates the environment from
+the interior of the object by a closed outline. Since, as a rule, that
+will suffice to make even a meaningless area appear as a segregated
+whole in the sensory field, it will certainly have that effect where
+the boundary of a physical object is concerned. If there are no such
+differences and no discontinuity whatever between the object and its
+surroundings, no visual unit will exist, it is true. But try to find
+objects which, without fulfilling any of the conditions of sensory
+segregation, are still plainly before you, because of the influence
+of meaning! You will have a hard task. Our general experience shows
+that wherever the conditions of visual segregation work against a
+unit, it will not exist in the sensory field of a naïve observer, even
+if it is well-known as such and is camouflaged only momentarily by
+special circumstances. A more detailed discussion would have to treat
+here the problem of visual depth and the segregation of things as
+three-dimensional wholes. But, though this question is of the greatest
+importance for the correspondence of physical units and sensory
+segregations, I must leave it untouched for the present, because as
+yet in this field experimentation as well as theory is in a rather
+undeveloped state.
+
+In the last paragraphs I have laid some stress upon the fact that
+organization in a sensory field is something which originates as a
+characteristic achievement of the nervous system. This emphasis has
+become necessary because some psychologists have recently said that,
+according to _gestalt_ psychology, “_gestalten_,” i.e., segregated
+sensory wholes in this connection, exist outside the organism and
+simply extend or project themselves into it. This is so absolutely
+wrong that I cannot comprehend how the misunderstanding arose.[30]
+
+But after what we have seen, it is quite another problem to ask how
+far sensory organization, though being a characteristic achievement
+of the nervous system, may have an objective value at the same time.
+Between the physical objects around us and our eyes waves of light are
+the only means of communication. These do not bring the “_gestalten_”
+ready-made into the organism; rather, the segregation of wholes occurs
+in the nervous system; but the result may tell more about some of the
+objective properties of the world around us than the rays of light
+would be able to do. We do not always learn more about an object, the
+nearer we approach it. For instance, when a lens is put in the way of
+the light reflected by a bright object, it would not be wise, for the
+purpose of getting a clear image of the object, to bring the screen as
+near as possible to the lens (and thereby the object); at a certain
+distance the projection tells much more about the object than nearer
+by. Similarly, sensory organization may give us a “truer” picture of
+the world around us in some respects than the rays of light, though
+these are the first messengers coming from the objects and sensory
+organization occurs later on and farther off.
+
+Indeed, the waves of light do not contain the slightest indication of
+any organization or any “belonging together” which may exist among the
+parts of the objects by which they are reflected. Each element of the
+physical surface reflects light independently and, as reflectors, two
+elements of the surface of a sheep, for instance, have no more to do
+with each other than one of them has to do with a surface element in
+the animal’s environment. In reflection, therefore, no trace is left
+of those units which exist in the physical world; they are dispersed
+completely into an indifferent mass of rays, all equally independent
+of each other. By the refractory properties of our eye those rays,
+which come from one point in the outside world, are made to converge
+upon one point of the retina; also the geometrical relations of the
+points on the surface of an object are reconstructed here, in large
+measure. Still, each local stimulus thus achieved is an independent
+affair, and rays coming from elements of the surface of one physical
+object, the sheep for instance, are as indifferent to each other
+as they are to stimuli from the sheep’s environment. So we have no
+organization at all in retinal stimulation, no wholes, no groups, no
+segregation. It cannot be asserted, in opposition, that there is one
+definite area or patch on the retina as the image of the animal, for
+the elements of this area are as independent of each other functionally
+as any one of them is independent of an element outside the image. In
+psychology much has been said about the stimulus-error which consists
+in our confusing our knowledge about the physical conditions of sensory
+experience with experience as such. But another mistake, which I
+propose to call the _experience-error_, is not less unfortunate. It
+occurs when we unintentionally attribute certain properties of sensory
+experience to the actual constellation of stimuli, properties which
+are so very common that we tend to apply them to whatever we are
+thinking about. This is the case primarily, wherever we have not yet
+learned to see the _problem_ contained in those common properties of
+experience. No wonder, then, that neurologists and some psychologists
+still talk about “_the_ retinal process” corresponding to an object,
+as though there were something like a segregated functional unit on
+the retina. Whereas as a matter of fact the whole retina is a mosaic
+of indifferently related spots, and this is the case until sensory
+organization begins physiologically.
+
+Once we have realized, however, that stimulation, as such, is
+completely unorganized, the enormous biological value of sensory
+organization will become apparent. Since the rules governing this
+organization conform to the structure of objective units, to objective
+divisions, to objective “belonging together,” in very many cases the
+result of their operation is a kind of reconstruction of those aspects
+of the objective physical situation which are temporarily lost on the
+way between the objects and the sense organ. It is true that continuous
+wholes are sometimes segregated, and groups of separate members are
+often formed, which do not correspond to objective physical units. But
+that is not a serious deficiency when compared with the indefinitely
+large number of cases in which organization is a picture of objective
+facts. If all the content of the sensory field were indifferent grains
+of sensory stuff, it would be a hard task to orientate ourselves in
+and to react to such a world. I am not sure that even after years of
+trial and error with regard to such a field, a child would _learn_
+to organize it. Considering the situation impartially, we may come
+to the conclusion that organization of the field, as an original
+sensory fact, is much more important biologically than the properties
+of local stimulation are. Color-blind people are perfectly able to
+adjust to their environment although their experience has fewer
+nuances of stimulation than the normal. This is so because their lack
+is not a serious impediment with respect to the practically important
+similarities and differences in stimulation. Differences of chroma are
+usually associated with differences of brightness (cf. p. 144). That
+is enough for _organization_, and since most of our behavior will be
+determined by this property of the field, even a large deficit as to
+qualities does not matter very much.
+
+Organization is no less important for the procedure of science than
+it is for practical life. We saw in the first chapter that, as a
+physicist, sensory experience is my only primary material. But what
+experience? The system I am investigating, the apparatus of research,
+its scale, the needle, and so forth, are all of them segregated wholes,
+or sub-units, in my sensory field. If they were not given to me in
+such an order of “belonging together,” physical research would be all
+but impossible. About this phase of “objective method” we do not hear
+very much, when behaviorists recommend the procedure of the natural
+sciences to us. But we should, since, if we consider physical research
+as a series of physiological events occurring in the physicist, we are
+still confronted with the problem of organization as an aspect of those
+events, which is absolutely indispensable for their success.
+
+At the same time we can understand why the formula of “stimulus and
+response,” though sounding well at first, is quite misleading as long
+as the term “stimulus” is used as carelessly as most behaviorists
+do use it. One stimulus, when taken in the strict meaning of the
+word, is not followed by one definite reaction in a great many cases
+(cf. Chapters III and IV). In optics, for instance, the organism
+will respond to an objective constellation of millions of stimuli
+by developing, first of all, an organized field, many and perhaps
+the most essential properties of which have no physical partner
+among the single stimuli (cf. Chapter VI). Reactions of the effector
+organs may and will begin very soon, in many cases; but, as the
+eye-movements show, even the first of these reactions will depend
+upon the developing organization of the field, because the laws
+of optically determined eye-movements refer to the boundaries of
+segregated wholes, to the situation of these wholes in the field, and
+to lines, but not to “sensations” as such. Apart from eye-movements,
+what is called “acting” in man will be a reaction to a well-developed
+field and in most cases to some definite whole in it. If, therefore,
+we say that in psychology the right formula is, _Constellation of
+stimuli--Organization--Reaction to results of organization_, such
+a statement fits the facts incomparably better than the usual one.
+The organism is not barren functionally; it is not a box containing
+conductors each with a separate function; it responds to a situation,
+first, by dynamical events peculiar to it _as a system_ and, then, by
+behavior which depends upon the results of that dynamical organization
+and order. Suppose that somewhere in a factory HNO_{3} were produced
+out of its elements and that in another part of the factory the product
+of that chemical organization were used to dissolve silver,--would
+you say that the silver reacts to nitrogen, hydrogen and oxygen? You
+certainly would not, because what happens to the silver depends upon
+that chemical organization, and it cannot be understood as a reaction
+either to those elements separately or to the sum of them. If that is
+so, we should also be very careful before we refer to types of behavior
+as being reactions to “a stimulus” or to “some stimuli.” Even the last
+expression would often be quite ambiguous, because it might mean that
+the behavior in question is the consequence of several stimuli working
+independently at the same time, whereas it may depend upon a product of
+sensory organization.
+
+Once I tried to convince a behaviorist that referring to “a female” as
+“a stimulus” for a male bird is equivalent to completely closing one’s
+eyes to the problem of _gestalt_ and organization. It was not possible.
+Though (or because?) he treats sensory experience as something
+without any interest for psychology, the behaviorist committed the
+“experience-error” so continually and pervasively that “the female
+bird” remained “a stimulus” for him. How often has “a mouse,” “a
+door,” “the experimenter” and so on been called “the stimulus” in
+animal psychology! Innocent though this expression may be, if it is
+used as an abbreviation by those who are fully aware of the problem of
+organization, it will hide this problem in a most unfortunate manner
+when used by an author who is not free from the “experience-error.”
+
+I mentioned above the great biological value of sensory organization as
+a reconstruction in nervous process of objective “belonging together.”
+But how can it be a reconstruction if, on the way from the objects
+to the sense organ, the waves of light are an unorganized mass of
+independent events? There must be something in this transmission of
+rays which determines the “right” organization in most cases. We have
+seen, indeed, that the relations of neighborhood, of similarity and
+difference among the stimuli, though these are indifferent to each
+other dynamically, are in some respects a copy of the corresponding
+relations among the surface-elements of surrounding objects. Some
+definite relations among the stimuli as they issue from the physical
+object, and the preservation of these relations in transmission,
+seems to be an essential condition for the organization of units
+corresponding to objects in the outer world. But if organization
+of the field depends upon the relations of stimuli as these are
+distributed on the retinæ, we must draw the conclusion that sensory
+organization cannot be understood by considering independent local
+processes as such. Now we know that, in dynamical self-distribution,
+process-in-extension exists as a functional whole. So we must assume
+that sensory organization, as we have considered it in this chapter,
+is a property of such a dynamical distribution, occurring under
+definite conditions of stimulation. At the same time we must remember
+that everywhere in physics dynamics depends upon the _relations_
+between given conditions. The more probable will it appear to us that
+sensory organization, as depending upon the relations of stimuli, is
+to be explained as an effect of sensory dynamics within the field.
+By studying organization, therefore, we may be able to discover what
+particular kind of dynamical events is responsible for sensory order.
+
+_Gestalt_ psychology is said by some critics to repeat the word “whole”
+continually, to neglect the existence of parts and therefore to
+sacrifice that wonderful tool of all scientific procedure, analysis.
+Nothing could be a more misleading statement, as may be judged
+from the fact that we found it necessary to mention _segregation_
+wherever we were dealing with a unit or a definite whole. In dynamical
+distribution, as we have seen, the functional “interwovenness” of
+a field is altogether compatible with dynamical segregation. We may
+even say that in _gestalt_ analysis we find the _genuine_ “parts”
+of the field as segregated wholes and groups and, in these wholes
+or groups, their genuine “parts” again as subordinate wholes and
+members, whereas the so-called sensations of introspective analysis are
+parts existing only in construction and theory. For this very reason
+analysis as a statement about “real” parts, existing in consequence
+of organization, is a perfectly legitimate and necessary procedure in
+_gestalt_ psychology, probably much more valuable than any analysis
+into sensations which certainly no one finds segregated in his visual
+field.
+
+One remark is needed here about another kind of analysis. I may
+passively accept what I find before me as the sensory field. Then
+analysis is possible in the meaning just defined. I may, however,
+adopt a special attitude with regard to the field, selecting some of
+its members and more or less suppressing the rest. In many cases a
+change of organization will be the consequence of such an attitude,
+and hence “analysis” of this sort involves a real transformation of
+sensory facts in _gestalt_ psychology (cf. Chapter IV, p. 124). Of
+course, an analytical attitude is not the only one by which a change
+of organization may be produced. When we select certain members of
+the field, we can keep them together at the same time and so favor
+one special kind of “belonging together” instead of that which would
+prevail without our interference. Again the change produced by our
+attitude will be a real transformation.
+
+From the viewpoint of _gestalt_ psychology a change of attitude
+involves a definite physiological stress exerted upon a sensory field
+by processes originating in other parts of the nervous system, and to
+some degree the organization of the field may yield to it. The figure
+7, for instance, is seen normally as a symmetrical form. By picking out
+the lines marked “a” however and keeping them together I can almost see
+the figure 7a, the lines marked “b” being repressed. In the same way
+I may favor the lines marked “b” and, as it were, create the figure
+7b. How concrete and real such a change is, will become apparent if we
+consider the point which is the center of the figure objectively. When
+we produce the figure 7a by favoring the “a,” that point is shifted to
+the right, as it also is, of course, when the lines marked “b” are not
+drawn at all. It is shifted to the left when we produce Fig. 7b.
+
+[Illustration: Fig. 7]
+
+[Illustration: Fig. 7a]
+
+[Illustration: Fig. 7b]
+
+[Illustration: Fig. 8]
+
+In some cases sensory organization seems to change without any
+influence being exerted upon it from without, simply because processes
+which remain the same for some time in the same part of the nervous
+system tend to alter conditions in that part and to block their own
+path. We know that the same thing occurs in electrolytical cells in
+which the current polarizes the electrodes and thereby creates forces
+opposed to itself. In Fig. 8 we are confronted by a pattern formed
+by three narrow sectors. Looking at the center of it, most persons
+will suddenly see another pattern after a while. In the new shape
+those lines, which belong together in the first pattern as contours
+of one arm, belong to separate arms and vice versa. The organization
+is changed. By appropriate experimentation, making our subject fixate
+the center for a long while, we can reduce the time for either shape
+to a minimum value, so that the alternations follow each other very
+quickly.[31] If now the figure is turned around a little, so that the
+arms have another position, the figure becomes as stable again as it
+was at first, and only after some time the alternation will quicken,
+as in the first position. In my judgment, this fact may be taken as
+evidence for assuming that a local effect of organized processes itself
+produces the alternations of organization.
+
+
+BIBLIOGRAPHY
+
+  W. Köhler: _Die physischen Gestalten_, etc. 1920.
+
+  W. Köhler: _Komplextheorie und Gestalttheorie_. Psychol. Forsch. 6,
+  1925.
+
+  W. Köhler: in _Psychologies of 1925_ (ed. by C. Murchison).
+
+  W. Köhler: _Bemerkungen zur Gestalttheorie_. Psychol. Forsch, 11,
+  1928.
+
+  M. Wertheimer: _Untersuchungen zur Lehre von der Gestalt, II_.
+  Psychol. Forsch. 4. 1923.
+
+
+
+
+VI
+
+_The Properties of Organized Wholes_
+
+
+THE dawn of the _gestalt_ problem in modern psychology was not the
+idea of dynamical self-distribution as opposed to order enforced by
+arrangement; nor did it begin with the discovery that segregated wholes
+represent highly important sensory phenomena. The starting point was
+the observation that sensory fields are replete with qualities and
+properties which one neglects if one takes “sensations” as their sole
+content and which, indeed, may have a mysterious aspect when first
+viewed in this way. It was von Ehrenfels who, preceded by some casual
+observations of Mach, directed the attention of psychologists toward
+the fact that a great many, and perhaps the more important, properties
+of sensory fields do not fit into the scheme of concepts which is
+centered around the idea of “sensation.”
+
+If it is natural for a “sensation” independently to fill its local
+place in the field, determined by one local stimulus alone, the
+characteristic and surprising feature in those other qualities (which
+are usually neglected) is their existence only as properties of
+somewhat extended regions. From this fact it seems to follow that
+those qualities of von Ehrenfels cannot be determined by single local
+stimuli; their existence, then, depends upon several stimuli having a
+specific effect in a certain _area as such_.
+
+As an example we may take a glass of water in which soap is dissolved.
+The aspect of such a liquid is called “trübe” in German, which in
+English means something like “dim” or “turbid.” Now look at it
+through a little hole made in a piece of cardboard and you will see
+the hole filled with a certain hue of gray (perhaps a little bluish
+or reddish), but the quality of “dimness” or “turbidness” will have
+disappeared. It is the property of a more extended field and depends
+upon more than local uniform stimulation. Exactly the same is true of
+the dimness or diffusedness which appears as a quality of things seen
+in a dark corner. Again no local impression, “isolated” artificially,
+shows any dimness, but the extended area does so in a striking manner.
+“Clearness” and “definiteness” as qualities of a field or of parts of
+it, have the same supralocal character. I may also mention the property
+of a surface which we perceive by touch as “rough” (the German “rauh”).
+There is no character like “roughness” in purely local experience
+of touch. And further we see that von Ehrenfels’ peculiar qualities
+occur in temporal extension as well as in space in that the German
+word “rauh” is used for certain acoustical phenomena, as it is for
+“rough” surfaces. When listening to rather rapid beats or to the “R”
+of human speech we get that peculiar sensory quality, which seems to be
+intrinsically similar to the “roughness” of a surface. Again, as this
+quality depends upon rapid beats, if stimulation is shortened below
+a certain limit, it disappears, whereas other acoustical qualities
+will subsist. In passing we may remark that in most cases words like
+“homogeneity” and “continuity,” whether applied to optical or to other
+experiences, mean properties of extended sensory fields.
+
+From a functional point of view, these observations are less surprising
+than was the general opinion at the time of von Ehrenfels’ discovery.
+The processes directly underlying our experience of a color will be
+a certain chemical reaction, i.e., certain molecules are built up or
+destroyed. Now the chemist may analyze such a reaction, but there is
+a natural limit to his analysis, because at least one whole specimen
+of each atom or molecule taking part in the reaction, and the whole
+dynamical event thus comprised, must be included. Beyond that limit
+what is called “this specific reaction” will lose its meaning for the
+chemist and, therefore, for psychophysical theory which associates one
+definite color with one definite kind of reaction. Therefore, even
+before parting with the theory of “local sensations” we are obliged to
+accept dynamical realities existing only in somewhat extended areas of
+space. If that is so in chemistry, the same fact should not frighten
+us when we face it in direct experience.
+
+According to the theory of dynamical self-distribution color as a
+quality is dependent upon chemical reactions in a brain-field, although
+the production of local chemical reactions in a certain distribution
+is only one side of the total process. There is much more that is
+characteristically spatial and dynamically real in such a coherent
+distribution than in the mosaic of local sensation-processes which are
+the “dynamical realities” of machine theory.
+
+From the new viewpoint the Ehrenfels-qualities, corresponding to more
+extended dynamical realities than color, would be physiologically
+produced at the same time as color, since each is a phase of the
+same total “process-in-distribution.”[32] In machine theory there
+must be “sensations” first of all, if upon this basis something
+else shall be founded as a secondary product. It would have been a
+superhuman achievement for von Ehrenfels to have gone so far as to
+sacrifice at once the machine theory and its sensations. To him his
+peculiar qualities remained new bits of experience simply added to the
+sensations, and in the school of Graz (v. Meinong, Witasek, Benussi)
+there was much discussion about the _fundierte Inhalte_ (qualities
+founded upon the basis of sensation) as the product of intellectual
+faculties working upon the sensations. So, with regard to the
+fundamental concepts applied to the sensory field, not much was changed.
+
+An enormous number of the new qualities discovered for psychological
+theory by von Ehrenfels are properties of those segregated wholes
+which were discussed in the last chapter. “Simple,” “complicated,”
+“regular,” “harmonious,” are words which _may_ have a meaning when
+applied to an experience occupying a point in space and time, though
+in most cases they refer to products of organization. But when we
+call something “symmetrical” this something is certainly a segregated
+whole. Similarly, “slender,” “round,” “angular,” “clumsy,” “graceful”
+are specific properties of definite wholes. And from these there is
+only one step to the more particular “form-qualities” given in the
+characteristic aspect of a circle, a triangle, a pear, an oak-tree,
+and so forth, all of them existing exclusively in their corresponding
+wholes. In German the word “gestalt” may be used as a synonym for
+“form,” or perhaps “shape.” So von Ehrenfels, taking the case of
+specific shape as the most important and evident among his qualities,
+applied the name of “gestaltqualitäten” to all of them. Therefore
+it will be clear that not only the different forms or shapes of
+objects and figures are included, but also qualities like “regular.”
+Furthermore, we have seen that there are temporal _gestaltqualitäten_
+as well as spatial ones, since the definition applies to the specific
+properties of a melody, to its “major” or “minor” character, for
+instance, in the same way it does to the “angularity” of a figure.
+Finally, seen movement as a whole may have a _gestaltqualität_ which is
+temporal and spatial at the same time. This is the case in the aspect
+of a definite form of dancing and in the characteristic movements of
+animals, such as “jumping” or “creeping.”
+
+At this point a general remark about terminology may be useful. For von
+Ehrenfels the new characteristic properties themselves were objects
+of outstanding importance; he was more interested in them than in
+those segregated parts of the field which exhibit the best examples
+of _gestaltqualitäten_ as their properties. In the German language
+however--at least since the time of Goethe, and especially in his own
+papers on natural science--the noun “gestalt” has two meanings: besides
+the connotation of “shape” or “form” as a _property_ of things, it
+has the meaning of a concrete individual and characteristic entity,
+existing as something detached and _having_ a shape or form as one
+of its attributes. Following this tradition, in _gestalt theorie_
+the word “gestalt” means any segregated whole, and the consideration
+of _gestaltqualitäten_ has become a more special side of the
+_gestaltproblem_, the prevailing idea being that the same general type
+of dynamical process which leads to the formation and segregation of
+extended wholes will also explain their specific properties.[33] Here
+the main stress is laid upon a characteristic type of process. This,
+indeed, is the most general concept of _gestalttheorie_: wherever a
+process dynamically distributes and regulates itself, determined by
+the actual situation in a whole field, this process is said to follow
+principles of _gestalttheorie_. In all cases of this type the process
+will have some characteristic which exists in an extended area only,
+so that a consideration of local points or local factors as such
+will not give us full insight into the nature of the process. From
+this viewpoint, even the segregation of circumscribed wholes becomes
+one more or less particular, though highly important, case among the
+various possibilities which are included in the most general idea of
+self-distribution and self-regulation, and in consequence the concept
+of _gestalt_ may be applied far beyond the limits of sensory fields.
+According to the most general definition of _gestalt_, the processes
+of learning, of reproduction, of striving, of emotional attitude, of
+thinking, acting, and so forth, may be included as subject matter
+of _gestalttheorie_ insofar as they do not consist of independent
+elements, but are determined in a situation as a whole. Quite apart
+from psychology the same will be true of ontogenetic development,
+and other biological events, wherever they show the definite marks of
+self-distribution and self-regulation. And this extension of the term
+does not mean vagueness, as many seem to believe. If prior to detailed
+investigation the general use of concepts belonging to machine and
+mosaic theory has prevailed for such a long time and so widely, it
+cannot be forbidden to discuss the opposite principle of dynamical
+order and regulation, which certainly is less known among psychologists
+though equally well established by physical theory. By no means do we
+believe, however, that any problem is really solved by the application
+of the general principle _as such_. On the contrary, when the principle
+seems to apply the concrete task of research is just beginning because
+we want to know the manner in which each special kind of process
+regulates itself under the conditions of each particular case.[34]
+
+If in the treatment even of sensory fields the real solution remains a
+task for the future, at least the first step may be made at once. Here,
+as everywhere, it will consist in the recognition of the reality and
+the concreteness of the problem. No one fails to see that there is a
+problem in visual depth as a property determined by conditions on the
+two retinæ, or--more generally--by stimulation on a two-dimensional
+surface. To see the real problem in the case of “form,” as a property
+of segregated wholes, seems to be much more difficult. The reason
+is the same as in the case of segregated wholes themselves (cf. pp.
+175-177). When we consider retinal stimulation, for instance, our
+thinking operates with ready-made wholes which already have definite
+forms as we know them from perception. So we say innocently that “the
+form” of our pencil or of a circle is projected upon the retina. These
+words contain the experience-error. There is no factor in retinal
+stimulation which might pick out of the geometrical distribution of
+_all_ local stimuli that circumscribed whole which will appear in the
+form of our pencil or of a circle, only after such a segregated whole
+has become a functional reality. On the retina we have the indifferent
+mosaic of millions of local stimuli, and nothing else. By arbitrary
+geometrical thinking, we may select and combine certain retinal spots;
+thus we may imaginatively impose all possible forms upon the retina,
+including, if we like, those of the pencil and of the circle. We must
+not forget, however, that this is mere play when compared with retinal
+reality and that the form of these objects is at this moment not more
+really there physiologically than that of an angel or of an Arabic
+letter.
+
+Some concrete examples will show us what is meant by “concrete, real
+form” better than any amount of general discussion. Sometimes we look
+upon the map of a country the general form of which we have seen
+thousands of times on other maps. But what we really see remains a
+foreign and completely unknown figure for a long while, until finally
+something happens in our field of vision and the known form suddenly
+appears, the unknown figure disappearing completely at the same time.
+Excellent cases for this observation are the charts of ship captains,
+whereon the sea and its bordering regions are represented as land
+and the coast are on common maps. Now, the general contour of the
+land is the same on the maritime chart as it is on the usual map;
+the geometrical line separating land and water “is projected” upon
+the retina as always.[35] Notwithstanding that fact, when looking at
+such a map of the Mediterranean I may fail completely to see Italy;
+instead I see some “funny” figures (corresponding to the Adriatic and
+so forth) which are new to me but nevertheless “have a concrete form”
+in my visual field, whereas on the usual map it is the peninsula that
+“has a concrete form.” So “to have form” as a concrete property is a
+peculiar feature distinguishing certain areas of our actual visual
+field from others which have no form. In our example, so long as the
+Mediterranean “has form,” the area corresponding to Italy is formless
+and vice versa. One is tempted to say that even a form existing on
+the retina does not necessarily determine a corresponding form in
+vision. But we have to insist upon the fact that _no_ form at all is
+given on the retina as a functional reality, neither that of Italy
+nor that of the Mediterranean. There is only a certain geometrical
+constellation of different local stimuli. Whether the physiological
+process starting from the retina under these conditions will lead to a
+simple “line” as real form, or to the form of the peninsula with the
+contour as its border, or to that of the Mediterranean, the contour
+now being its boundary-line, whether it will produce any other or _no_
+form whatsoever, all this cannot be deduced from the constellation
+of retinal stimuli before we know by visual experience what area is
+segregated, and distinguished as having _real_ visual form.
+
+As a second example the following variation of Fig. 8 (or Fig. 8
+itself) may be taken: Fig. 9. With exactly the same constellation of
+stimuli we may have two different forms, either a cross consisting
+of four slender arms or a cross (like that of an order) containing
+four large sectors. So long as we _really_ have the first one, i.e.,
+as existing in vision, the other will be absorbed in the general
+surroundings, which optically have _no real form_ at the time. When the
+second form becomes a visual reality, the first disappears.[36] The
+observer will remark that the oblique lines are boundary-lines of the
+_real form_ in both cases. They belong to the slender cross as _its_
+contours, in the first case, and to the large cross, in the second.
+
+[Illustration: Fig. 9]
+
+Simple observations of this kind were first made by Rubin,[37] who
+has given us a great many examples. That only definite special parts
+of the field have “real form” (as their most characteristic property)
+was shown conclusively by the fact that subjects who had seen _one_
+definite form at the first presentation of such an “ambiguous” pattern,
+did not recognize the pattern, if later on, at the second presentation,
+the other form happened to be seen. This second form had not existed
+as a visual reality when, previously, the first one was experienced;
+so the second one was something completely new when seen in the later
+presentation. Again, when one of the two crosses (Fig. 9) is “real,”
+one does not see other forms which are quite as real (or _unreal_)
+geometrically on the retina. So one does not see the form 9a or 9b or
+9c.
+
+[Illustration: Fig. 9a, Fig. 9b, Fig. 9c]
+
+In the case of Fig. 10 two unknown forms will be seen as a group
+through which a horizontal line is laid. When I tell the reader that
+the number 4 is before him in the field, he will undoubtedly find it;
+but if he is not influenced by theoretical prejudices, he will confess
+that the form of the 4 did not exist as a visual reality at first and
+that, if it began to exist later on, that meant a transformation of
+visual reality.
+
+[Illustration: Fig. 10]
+
+In the last example it will be obvious that the reality of a form
+depends upon the existence of a definite whole which, when segregated
+as such, _has_ that real form, others, which would correspond to other
+wholes, being excluded from visual existence. So when we first look
+at Fig. 10 we have a definite organization, consisting of two unknown
+wholes with the horizontal line running through them. Consequently one
+part of the geometrical constellation of the 4 is absorbed by the
+whole on the left side, a second fraction by the angular whole to the
+right and the rest by the horizontal. And the destruction of the 4 as
+a whole also destroys its form. When after instruction, the observer
+really gets the 4 as a form in his visual field, a corresponding
+whole is produced at the same time. We formulate the general theorem
+that real form depends upon the segregation of corresponding wholes.
+This statement is confirmed by all observations of puzzle pictures,
+of camouflaged objects, and so forth. The existence of visual form
+presupposes the existence of wholes which, then, have a real form as
+their specific property. The reader will be able to convince himself
+that even the reality of partial forms depends upon the existence of
+corresponding sub-wholes.
+
+The _objects_ around us are, in most cases, very stable wholes;
+therefore, we regularly see them with their definite forms, excepting
+in those rare instances in which the wholes and their real forms are
+disguised by chance conditions or by intentional camouflage. This is
+the reason why we so easily fail to see the problem of form and why we
+remain satisfied by “the form given objectively in retinal projection.”
+There is, however, no visual form in the world to which our last
+considerations do not apply. Wherever we have “real form” in the visual
+field, we must assume a specific property of functional process in
+that area. But the processes do not have this special property in all
+parts of the field. If you walk along a street between high houses on
+a bright day, the sky is seen above you surrounded by darker contours
+of houses and towers. Do you see that bright area as a form? Generally
+not; it has no form, it is indifferent “background,” though on your
+retinæ there does exist a homogeneous area surrounded by contours.
+These contours remain borders of the houses; the houses have forms,
+but the sky has not. If you wish to see a certain area of the sky as a
+definite visual form, look at it through a little hole cut into a box
+which you then put over your head. If the hole is cut like the letter H
+you will see an area of the sky in the corresponding form as a bright
+figure on a black ground. And now _this ground_ has no visual form.
+
+Who wishes to judge about the problems of _gestalt_ theory ought to be
+well acquainted with these observations and with the consequences to be
+deduced therefrom. Exactly as we may either have color in a definite
+part of our visual field, or mere brightness of a certain nuance, so
+a definite area may have a certain form or it may be formless, i.e.,
+merely extended.
+
+Since “real form” presupposes a segregated whole, the existence of
+“form” depends upon factors of stimulation similar to those upon which
+the segregation and organization of wholes depend. Again, definite
+relations in the total constellation of retinal stimuli are found
+to be decisive for the existence of real form. But no abstract
+consideration of all the logical relations that might possibly obtain
+among local stimuli would make us able to forecast where or when a
+specific form will be seen. As for the existence of segregated wholes,
+i.e., organization, certain _special_ relations again are important and
+others indifferent; which are the important ones can only be discovered
+by the observation of real forms appearing under a given set of
+conditions.
+
+Since for some time to come it will be impossible to observe
+physiologically the inner dynamics of optical processes, we cannot
+do more at present than draw conclusions from the properties of the
+visual field in comparison with given retinal constellations. In the
+course of this attempt we find that “form,” wherever it exists, is a
+_supra_local property of that part of the field; so the property of
+the underlying process must be a supralocal phase of it. We find also
+that “form” is a property exclusively of segregated wholes; so, with
+or after the organization of these wholes, that special supralocal
+property of physiological process must develop which is the basis of
+“real form” in direct experience. As it is an attribute of detached
+wholes, this phase of the process exists only in definite areas, which
+are determined by certain relations of stimulation. These relations
+must be decisive _dynamically_ for “form,” as they are for “wholes”
+which have “form” as their most important visual property. Evidently,
+one cannot understand “form” from the viewpoint of mosaic theory;
+dynamical self-distribution with its functional coherence and structure
+of process is the only principle known at present, which may give us an
+explanation of “form” in the future.[38]
+
+I shall not try to demonstrate with the same care the concrete reality
+of definite forms in _time_. What has been said would have to be
+repeated more or less in the case of melodies, of rhythms, of seen
+movements and so forth. The “form” of a musical _motif_ begins at a
+definite point and ends at another; then another _motif_ may follow.
+But there is no real form extended from the second tone of the first
+figure to the third of the second figure; and between the two figures
+there is what is called a “dead” interval (corresponding, as “empty”
+time, to the mere extension or ground outside a visual form). Again
+when in the dark room a bright spot in motion describes the path of
+Fig. 6, we see certain definite forms of movement, 1 → 2, 3 → 4, 5
+→ 6, for example. We do not see other forms, such as, for instance,
+a form corresponding to a fraction of 1 → 2, the horizontal, and a
+fraction of II, taken together. Real form coincides with the wholes and
+sub-wholes segregated in this case as in that of melodies and rhythms.
+In passing we may remark that the behavior of others is continually
+seen in _forms_ of events which correspond to the natural grouping of
+what we see or hear of them.
+
+As form is a property of segregated wholes, what has been said against
+the explanation “by meaning,” or other indirect explanations, in the
+case of segregated wholes, will be more or less to the point with
+respect to their forms, though, probably, for most readers this is yet
+a rather critical issue. Therefore, the problem shall be treated once
+more in the following paragraphs.
+
+[Illustration: Fig. 11]
+
+1. What is the effect of our past experience of certain definite
+forms upon visual experience in subsequent life? Drawings like Fig.
+11 and Fig. 12 contain a great many geometrical lines the outline
+of which, when given alone, would make us see other forms than those
+which we see naïvely. Thus, in both of them the outline of Fig. 13
+is present geometrically. If now we have a large number of drawings,
+seen naïvely in a certain way, and besides them certain other figures
+geometrically contained in the first, will training or repeated
+experience with regard to the latter change the way we see the first,
+so that the learned forms become “real” when the larger drawings are
+shown? Gottschaldt has recently made such experiments.[39] Since past
+experience is supposed to have its effects upon form independently
+of our knowledge about the presence of corresponding outlines, i.e.,
+automatically, the subjects were not told to analyze or to look for
+the “learned” forms. The larger drawings were given them simply for
+description. Under these circumstances, with three previous exposures
+of the smaller forms, the training had no effect upon subsequent
+perception of form in more than 90 per cent. of the cases. When the
+number of previous exposures of the smaller forms was increased to 520
+with new subjects, the result was still the same, the drawings being
+seen unchanged by the training in 95 per cent. of the trials. Not even
+the few cases, which showed a positive result, can be explained by
+the mere fact of previous training, because all those subjects, who
+occasionally saw the “learned” forms in the larger drawings, had some
+suspicion about the aim of the experiment and asked the experimenter
+whether they should look for the “learned” forms in the larger
+drawings. Though they were not instructed to do so, of course they
+went into the test with an attitude of definite expectation. So the
+few positive results do not prove an automatic after-effect of past
+experience upon forms seen subsequently, since, apart from training as
+such, there was this other factor of expectation.
+
+[Illustration: Fig. 12]
+
+[Illustration: Fig. 13]
+
+Gottschaldt’s larger drawings were “difficult,” i.e., of a highly
+stable organization. In some of them, in spite of strong efforts, I
+cannot really _see_ the smaller form, even when I know about its
+geometrical presence and position. However, if any one criticizes this
+“difficulty,” by his own argument he recognizes the reality of stable
+visual form as something stronger in such cases than a very large
+amount of previous experience. Furthermore, the larger drawing (Fig.
+12) cannot be said to have its stable organization in consequence
+of much experience in previous life outside the laboratory. What we
+naïvely see there is not better known from previous experience than the
+small figure 13. After these results, whoever defends the automatic
+influence of past experience upon our seeing definite forms, will
+have incumbent upon him the task of supporting his theory by other
+experiments. If such an influence exists, it must be restricted to
+rather special cases.
+
+2. Where “form” _exists_ originally, it acquires a meaning very
+easily. But here a whole with its form is given first and then the
+meaning “creeps into it.” That meaning automatically produces a form
+where beforehand there is none, has not been shown experimentally in
+a single case, as far as I know. It may be that in a very _unstable_
+constellation, in which a certain form can be seen or organized, past
+experience of such a form will tend to produce it really, whereas
+without that previous experience, this would not happen. Even in this
+case, however, we should still have to explain what factors produced
+that form in previous life. It is only assumed, then, that conditions
+were more favorable, and the question remains open whether they were
+not favorable for its originating directly. In any case, even granting
+that previous experience of a certain form favors its appearance in the
+future, we ought to realize that such an occurrence will be limited to
+definite cases, namely those in which the actual constellation does
+not tend decidedly toward other more stable wholes and forms. The
+number 4, for instance, is certainly a well-known form; but when Fig.
+10 is shown to hundreds of people without any special instruction or
+warning, only a few of them will see the 4 and mention it in their
+description of the figure. If any one protests that we have never seen
+the 4 in such an environment before, he misses the point, because
+no explanation in terms of previous experience is needed when 4 is
+given upon a homogeneous ground, as it usually is. If past experience
+has an influence, it is exactly in such a case as that of Fig. 10,
+in which its influence ought to be effective. And after all, it is
+not the “unusual” environment as such which prevents our seeing the
+4 immediately. In the following figure (14) the 4 _is_ seen at once,
+though in my judgment the environment is not less unusual than in the
+first case. Why, then, is it seen now? Because the relation between the
+added lines and the geometrical parts of the 4 is not such that these
+parts are absorbed in the formation of other wholes. But this is a
+principle of original organization. So we may say that any influence
+of past experience upon the organization of forms in the future depends
+upon the degree and the stability of sensory organization in the actual
+case. I shall give a few more examples which show the absorption or
+destruction of a well-known form by actual organization into other less
+known forms.
+
+[Illustration: Fig. 14]
+
+[Illustration: Fig. 15]
+
+Look at Fig. 15 before you read the next lines. No one would use the
+name of letter E in describing it as long as he is a naïve observer,
+though the well-known E is present geometrically, and the form really
+seen is less known. Fig. 16 may be beheld as an ornament for months
+before one first finds two H’s in it. Similarly the letter K is
+hidden in Fig. 17. If the reader is already a little sophisticated, he
+would be wise to show these figures to some of his more naïve friends,
+for five seconds perhaps, asking them only to give a spontaneous
+description of them. I do not think the enormous experience we all have
+with respect to these letters will produce any considerable effect upon
+the result, as long as the subjects do not begin to look for hidden
+forms. If they do, of course, the result will be produced by actual
+attitude apart from previous experience. When we give our subjects a
+hint about the camouflaged form, we create in them what the physicist
+might call a “_special vector_,” favoring that concrete form. But when
+our subject, adopting an indifferent attitude, looks unaided at some of
+the unknown figures, this vector does not exist, despite a great deal
+of “past experience.” Without it, the hidden forms do not appear.
+
+[Illustration: Fig. 16]
+
+[Illustration: Fig. 17]
+
+3. Again, some psychologists will go so far as to derive all form in
+the visual field from tactual or motor experience. Our answer in this
+case is once more simple enough: Real form is a concrete property of
+certain things. If its history is to be traced to other than visual
+experiences, we must have concrete real form in those other regions
+in which it has its origin. Nothing can be imported from other fields
+into vision without having originally occurred in these other fields.
+So the whole problem would only be shifted from one sensory field to
+another, and the explanation would have to assume original forms in the
+latter. This reasoning applies also to our sensations of eye-movements.
+If visual form shall be derived from them, real form must be a property
+of some of these kinesthetic experiences. Therefore, such an hypothesis
+does not seem to be a scientific gain, and we may as well acknowledge
+the problem of visual form _as such_.
+
+4. I find a decisive argument against explanations of form in terms
+of past experience, in the following consideration. No doubt, parts
+of the visual field can reproduce past experiences associated with
+them in previous life. But when we ask what factors are the main
+reproductive properties in these cases, we see that in 99 out of 100
+cases _reproduction depends upon the form of a segregated whole in the
+field_. Take the concrete real form away, so that reproduction can
+be aroused by only the color or the place or, perhaps, the size of an
+area, and you will realize that for the most part, without form, visual
+realities are not specific enough to reproduce definite experiences.
+When we talk about the automatic influence of past experience upon
+actual vision, we are tempted to extend this idea to the creation of
+definite “form” by reproduction. But then we forget that there is not
+much reproduction without form itself as a reproductive factor, and
+that, from the viewpoint of such an hypothesis, form _as such_ must
+be strictly excluded from the sensory field and, therefore, from the
+reproductive features of the situation, supposedly being present in the
+field _only by way of_ the reproduction of past experience. The curious
+result is that we presuppose “form,” erroneously and unawares, in order
+to get form reproduced from past experience! A naïve observer does not
+see the 4 in our example, although it is such a well-known figure. Why?
+Past experience cannot work if there is no specific factor present
+which might reproduce that definite part of past experience under the
+circumstances of the case. In our example the ever so well-known 4 will
+not be reproduced, as, in other examples, countless other well-known
+forms are not reproduced either, there being nothing in the actual
+optical processes which might effect that definite reproduction. I
+suspect that a great many explanations in terms of meaning and past
+experience fail completely to realize this side of the question.
+It is easy to say: This, of course, is so because in earlier life
+certain things have happened. But the time has come for more concrete
+thinking in this field. Reproduction does play a highly important rôle
+in mental life and in behavior. It can play it only if the sensory
+world is sufficiently endowed with concrete properties in those areas
+which are said to reproduce our previous experience. If it is not,
+because we regard it as a mosaic of sensations, by what factors can a
+definite reproduction be determined? “Transposing” shows that a form
+will remain the same independently of the color, the place and the size
+of its area. If, now, a definite form is said to appear in the field
+by reproduction, I do not see what characteristic of the mosaic can
+possibly determine the right reproduction, since we cannot rely upon
+color, place and size for it.
+
+In order to show that “form” can never be explained by the existence
+of “sensations,” von Ehrenfels laid great stress upon this very
+fact--mentioned previously by Mach--that a form can be “transposed,”
+i.e., will remain the same as a visual property, after its brightness,
+color, size and place are changed. Of course, when shifted too far
+toward the periphery of the field, a form will change its character
+more or less, but, excepting this case, the possibilities of
+transposing a form are very numerous. Again in this respect temporal
+form behaves like spatial form, since a melody may be rendered in
+different keys and still remain the same, so far as its musical form
+is concerned. Indeed, nothing can show better than these facts that
+the specific supralocal organization of the processes underlying form
+as a sensory experience must be a physiological reality, certainly as
+much as are the processes underlying chroma as a quality of sensory
+experience. Since, in the case of vision, we can change not only
+chroma, but brightness, localization and size of a form, without
+disturbing the form itself, the usual categories of quality, intensity,
+position, extension do not help us when real form is to be explained.
+There is only one thing we cannot change too much without influencing
+form itself, viz., that special set of relations of stimulation which
+seem to be decisive for the segregation of a definite whole and for
+the specific dynamical structure underlying form.[40] We do not
+normally _experience_ these relations in the sensory field. But in the
+determination of self-distribution of process, in the segregation and
+“formation” of wholes, they must become almost all-important somewhere
+between the retinæ and the psychophysical field.
+
+Up to the present time there has been a tendency to regard the
+remarkable properties of wholes, especially the possibility of
+transposing their translocal properties, as the achievement of
+“higher” processes. From the viewpoint of _gestalt_ theory sensory
+organization is as natural and primitive a fact as any other side
+of sensory dynamics. If, for von Ehrenfels and the _Grazer Schule_,
+_Gestaltqualitäten_ and form are treated as a superstructure built upon
+the foundation of sensations, this assumption would fail to account
+for the evident rôle of _gestalt_ in such biological processes as
+ontogenesis. In psychology, too, the influence of _gestalt_ has been
+demonstrated by Hertz (cf. Chapter V) in very primitive behavior,
+in which no one would assume the operation of “higher” processes.
+Lashley seems to have been the first to find that an animal, trained
+to react positively to one of two “stimuli,” will shift his reaction
+spontaneously when he finds himself before two other stimuli of the
+same class, the new reaction being directed to that stimulus which
+plays the same rôle in the new pair as a whole, which another specific
+stimulus played in the pair used during the learning process. I wonder
+why these experiments failed to exert their due share of influence
+upon current theoretical formulations. Without knowing Lashley’s work
+I have repeated the same experiments on apes and chicks, with special
+care to exclude all possibilities of indirect explanation. There is no
+doubt, now, that a chick, trained with two grays, I and II (II being
+darker than I), always to choose II, will, after a while, when II and
+the new (darker) gray III are given, in the majority of the trials
+not choose II but the unknown nuance III. The same experiments were
+performed on apes with size, and also with different hues of color.
+Several investigators have been able to confirm these experiments. We
+may conclude that animals react to such pairs as to wholes, either side
+of which has a definite character depending upon its “position” in the
+whole. So II is “the dark side” of the first pair; then, in the new
+pair, III assumes this rôle, and since the animal has learned to choose
+the dark side of the pair rather than a more or less definite gray, it
+tends to avoid the specific gray of the learning period and to choose
+the new gray after the transposition. Again it does not matter at all
+in such a case, whether or not we assume that the chick has direct
+experience. The difference between choice depending upon a more or less
+definite intensity of light and reaction depending upon one definite
+side of a structure, is the same for either assumption. Once more the
+formula of “stimulus and response” becomes altogether misleading, since
+it neglects the fact that between the stimuli and reaction there is the
+organization of definite wholes with specific properties, upon which
+the reaction so obviously depends.
+
+In order to prove that dynamical self-distribution will explain
+“transposition,” we have to show that “transposition” is possible in
+self-balanced physical systems. Nothing can be easier! First of all,
+if under certain conditions all forces of a dynamical distribution
+are in equilibrium with regard to each other, it is evident that the
+equilibrium is not disturbed if the intensity of all those forces
+decreases or increases in the same proportion. _All_ forces being
+reduced to one-half of their first value or increased to three times
+that amount, they will balance each other as before. The supralocal
+dynamical structure is largely independent of absolute intensities.
+Now let the dynamical structure be the self-distribution of current
+in an electrolyte, depending upon the total form of the electrolytic
+conductor. Again the intensity of current has no influence upon its
+distribution. Also, if instead of ions like Na and Cl, K and Br or
+any others carry the electric charges, the distribution of current
+will not be changed. Or, take as an example the electromotive
+phenomena developed when two solutions (I and II) of different ionic
+concentration are in contact. Those phenomena, existing only in the
+pair of solutions as a whole, depend upon the _relation_ of the ionic
+concentrations, the absolute concentrations being indifferent. If, in
+a definite case, the solution II with a concentration of 1/20 n is the
+electropositive side of the pair, as against I with a concentration,
+say, of 1/4 n, in a new pair with the concentrations 1/20 n (II) and
+1/100 n (III) the new solution III becomes the electropositive side.
+To be “the electropositive side” of such a physical system is no less
+a _gestalt property_ in a definite electrochemical whole than to be
+“the dark side” is a _gestalt property_ in a sensory pair.
+
+In some respects form is the most important property which a whole
+may have; the introduction of it as a specific reality will help us
+to understand certain of the properties which occur only in wholes.
+In Figs. 8 and 9 we observed a change of form, now one cross or star
+being present as a form, and then the other. But something else
+changes at the same time. When we see the slender cross, the area of
+this cross has a character of solidity and coherence; we may even
+say that this slender cross has the substantiality of a “thing,”
+whereas the environment appears as comparatively “empty” and “loose.”
+Exactly the contrary is true when the other cross dominates the
+field; the large cross becomes “solid” and “substantial,” whereas the
+narrow angles have become “loose” and “empty,” like the environment.
+Because an area becomes “solid” when appearing as “form” or “figure,”
+Rubin, who was the first to describe the difference, has called the
+“solid” quality the “figure” character, whereas to the “looseness”
+of the environment he gave the name of “ground” character. This term
+“ground,” or “background,” is the more appropriate since we find the
+“figure” protruding a little, as if in three-dimensional space, and the
+environment localized behind it, so that the solid “figure” appears
+as something apart, behind which the “ground” seems to extend without
+interruption like a simple homogeneous plane. The sky above the houses
+(cf. p. 202) has the character of ground.
+
+I do not think we ever find that character of “solidity” where we
+do not have a segregated whole. That character, then, is a typical
+property of segregated wholes and belongs to von Ehrenfels’ qualities.
+Some psychologists will try to derive this character from touch or
+other previous experiences which we have had with things, in the
+practical meaning of the word. We find that all visual things, which
+as such are clearly perceived in the field of vision, have the same
+character of “solidity.” But as it appears as a visible quality, it
+may be such a quality _originally_; it may even belong, independently
+of other experiences, to the primary constituents of the meaning of
+the term “thing” in common life. Whether the empiristic explanation is
+justified or whether this quality is founded directly upon the specific
+dynamics of seen form, will be decided by further research. As yet
+it has been shown that, functionally, “figure” and “ground” behave
+differently. Constancy of color has been shown to be more striking for
+“figure” than for “ground” (Rubin); the limen for a patch of color
+projected upon the “figure” was found to be higher than upon “ground”
+of the same objective intensity (Gelb and Granit); after-images are
+more vivid when observed upon a “figure” than they are upon “ground”
+(Frank).
+
+               *       *       *       *       *
+
+After all these considerations the reader will be prepared to accept
+some statements as concrete which, in consequence of their more general
+character, he, without that preparation, might be tempted to despise
+as “mere philosophy.” If in our experiment on animals “the dark side”
+is something which, as such, exists only in a definite whole, the
+same thing is implied in a great many terms which we are continually
+using as trivial words in common life. We do not realize generally
+that all their meanings presuppose definite wholes in which something
+plays that rôle to which the words apply, as “the dark side” applies
+to the rôle one gray plays in a pair of grays. I give the following
+few examples, selected from a large store: The German “Rand” (English
+“brink” or “edge”) is such a word; again “Anfang” (beginning), “Ende”
+and “Schluss” (“end” and “close”), “Stück” and “Teil” (“piece” and
+“part”), “Rest” (“rest” or “remnant”); and even “Loch” (“hole”) and
+“Störung” (“disturbance”), which presuppose a definite experienced
+whole, with respect to which an area may appear as a “hole,” or some
+factor as a “disturbance.” Intentionally I do not restrict my examples
+to those cases in which the words apply to sensory facts. There is
+not the slightest reason why I should do so. And the reader will
+easily understand that talking about a “disturbing” factor in the case
+of “thinking” presupposes a definite dynamical whole, as it does in
+sensory experience. There is no meaning in the word without it. Whoever
+is slightly acquainted with musical theory will recognize at once that
+a tone cannot have the character of the “tonic” without belonging to
+a larger musical whole, in which it plays a definite rôle; of course,
+the same is true of the leading-tone, which has its strong dynamical
+properties in the definite key of a sequence of tones, and not
+independently.
+
+Obviously we must have similar cases in the world of adjectives and
+verbs. Indeed, “hohl” (“hollow”) and “offen” (“open”), “complete” and
+“incomplete” belong in the same group, as terms referring necessarily
+to specific wholes. Finally, in the realm of activities and events we
+might give a long list in which there ought to be included: “starting”
+or “beginning,” “ending” and “finishing” or “closing,” “desisting” and
+“interrupting,” also “proceeding” and “continuing,” even “deviating,”
+“bending,” “retarding” and so forth. If we try to find out what we
+mean when we use terms like “hesitating” or “deviating” with reference
+to the activities of others or to heard music or to our own stream
+of thought, we shall find that their meaning depends upon extended
+dynamical structures, the change of which is described by those words.
+They may be applied to sensory experience, but their essential meaning
+remains the same in other fields of experience, because the principal
+aspects of _gestalt_ are found in all of them. To say that they are
+imported into these other fields from the region of sensory experience,
+in a merely analogical way, would be no more than another vicious
+circle of the kind described above (cf. pp. 212-214).
+
+
+BIBLIOGRAPHY
+
+  W. Köhler: Psychol. Forschung 4. 1924.
+
+  W. Köhler: _Die physischen Gestalten_. 1920.
+
+  E. Rubin: _Visuell wahrgenommene Figuren_. 1921.
+
+  W. Sander: _Bericht ü. d. 9. Kongress f. exper. Psychologie_. 1927.
+
+  M. Wertheimer: Psychol. Forschung 4. 1924.
+
+
+
+
+VII
+
+_Behavior_
+
+
+IT will be difficult to understand this and the next chapters unless
+we first solve a problem which presents serious difficulties to some
+psychologists.
+
+When I referred to “objective experience” in an earlier discussion
+I laid great stress upon the fact that things, their movements and
+changes, are given as _outside_ or _before_ us. At the same time
+“objective experience” is regarded as depending upon processes in a
+certain field of the brain. How then can it appear before us? About
+the facts there can be no doubt. Under certain conditions a sound may
+be localized in my head, it is true; but that tree over there is seen
+as something far off and the window, though much nearer, is still
+_outside_, beyond any possibility of doubt. Functionally, however,
+their existence, as is the case of all the other surrounding objects,
+is a matter of processes in my brain, and therefore _in_ me. So much
+can be proved by the simplest physiological considerations.
+
+Let us attack this problem from the physiological side at once. For
+simplicity’s sake we shall proceed at first as though the visual field
+were the only objective experience we have.
+
+One thing is immediately obvious. Though we usually have many objects
+before us, their totality appears as ordered in one visual space, so
+that any one of them has definite spatial relations to all the others.
+This statement is rather superficial, because it neglects the actual
+grouping and “belonging together” of some objects rather than others;
+but for our present purposes it will be sufficient. The pencil is
+nearer to that book than to the lamp, the knife is between the book and
+the fountain-pen, and so forth.
+
+As all properties of the field depend upon physiological processes in
+the brain or certain of their properties, so the relative position
+of experienced objects will depend upon a definite order of the
+processes which are their physiological basis; the mere geometrical
+localization of the processes in the brain cannot be the correlate of
+seen spatial order. I take it for granted that whatever is experienced
+has a _dynamical_ basis physiologically, i.e., depends upon physical
+states and events. Process-in-extension, coherent functionally and
+self-maintaining dynamically, is supposed to contain those dynamical
+relations between “segregated wholes,” which, in experience, appear as
+positions of objects in mutual relation and order. Of course, these
+dynamical relations, underlying experienced spatial order, exist in
+an aggregate of cells and fibers, which are extended in physical
+space. But only the dynamical relations count for our problem, not the
+geometrical distances and areas as such, through which that dynamical
+order extends. Still we may safely assume not only that, where two
+objects touch each other in visual experience, the _dynamical contact_
+of the corresponding processes is immediate and direct, but that the
+two processes take place in two _neighboring areas_ of the brain.
+Again, if two objects are experienced as separated from each other in
+visual space, some process, _not_ corresponding to the objects, will
+mediate _dynamically_ between them; and at the same time the area of
+the first will not be in geometrical contact with the area of the
+second. We shall not go further. The _geometrical_ distribution of
+processes in the brain will _not_ be an adequate picture of visual
+order in all respects. Only with respect to those crudest properties
+of visual space, neighborhood and distance in general, will the
+underlying dynamical order of processes be extended homologously in
+brain-space.[41] But no more need be assumed in order to picture in
+imagination what follows, and to discuss our problem in simple terms.
+We must not forget, however, that, if in the next paragraph relative
+localization in visual space is connected with relative position of
+processes in the brain, this is meant as an abbreviation for the
+_dynamical_ relations of process-in-extension.
+
+In visual experience the pencil there is external to that book and
+at a certain distance from it. We know now, at least in a general
+scheme, what is the physiological basis of this separation. Our next
+task will consist in applying that scheme consistently. My hand is
+in the same visual field as an experienced object. Evidently, as
+this new segregated whole is external to the pencil and the book in
+visual experience, the process, corresponding to it in the brain,
+must be external to the processes corresponding to the pencil and to
+the book, dynamically and, as we have seen, geometrically. There is
+not the slightest reason why the hand, as a visual object, should be
+treated in a manner different from the pencil or the book, or the
+spatial relation between the hand and pencil or the book different
+from the spatial relation between the latter. Beside my hand I have
+other parts of myself in the visual field: my arm, for instance, very
+often my feet, my chest and, though in peripheral vision, the tip of
+my nose. They are visual experiences, exactly as are the pencil and
+the book. Therefore, in my brain as a _physical_ system there must
+be processes corresponding to these experienced bodily members, as
+there are processes underlying those objective experiences which I do
+not reckon among the parts of what I call my body. And the processes
+underlying the seen book, the seen pencil and all the other surrounding
+seen objects will be external to the processes which underlie the
+experiences of arm, feet, chest and nose, for the same reason that the
+processes corresponding to those seen objects are external to each
+other.
+
+Here we have, in principle at least, the solution of our problem. To
+some extent my body, to which common speech frequently refers as “I,”
+is a group of visual experiences just as other things are. As these are
+seen external to each other, so “I” am experienced external to all of
+them in vision. If I find no difficulty in their appearing separately
+in different parts of the field, and if their mutual localization can
+be understood by the dynamo-geometrical relations of the processes
+underlying them, I am simply obliged to apply the same idea to
+myself as a visual experience in the same field and to the processes
+underlying this experience. No new hypothesis is needed to explain why
+“I” am external to those objects and they external to me. If there were
+a paradox in their relative localization with regard to “me,” the same
+paradox ought to be found in their mutual localization. I have only
+to become aware of the fact that, as a visual experience, this “I”
+depends upon processes in a definite circumscribed part of my brain as
+a physical system, no less than do any other objects in the field.
+
+Following this consideration, it becomes an almost impossible idea
+that things should be experienced as being “in me.” The pencil might
+be experienced _in_ the book just as well! Everybody is accustomed to
+discriminate sharply between the thing as a _physical object_ and as
+the _experienced whole_, corresponding to it, which appears in the
+visual field. If we could only accustom ourselves also to make the same
+distinction as radically and consistently in the case of our body! In
+one meaning this body is a physical organism, certain processes of
+which underlie _all_ experience. At the same time “my body” or “myself”
+is a particular one among all other sensory experiences, and, as such,
+it is also represented by definite particular processes in a definite
+part of the brain at a given moment. Dynamo-geometrical relations in
+the brain-field mean spatial relations in visual experience. In this
+respect, other visual things are evidently outside or external to the
+special thing called “my body.” But, you say, all these processes
+are _in_ the brain, i.e., _in me_, after all! That does not matter
+for our problem, because experience depends upon the processes of a
+definite field, and experienced space depends upon the totality of
+dynamo-geometrical relations _in_ it; the only meaning which “in” and
+“outside” have in experience is determined by this dynamical context,
+and to the _physical_ place which this context has in the physical
+world, in the physical body, and more particularly in the physical
+skull, _there does not correspond any experience at all_. All the
+possible spatial relations we can have in sensory experience are
+restricted to the inner dynamical properties and relations of that
+field; the anatomical relation between this field and its surroundings,
+which do not contain “psychophysical” processes, is an affair of
+the physical world which does not occur in my sensory experience.
+Therefore, “things” are “before” and “around” me, as far as experience
+is concerned. If somebody expects that “things” or “I” or both should
+be localized in my brain, he does not see that in the first half of
+this sentence he is talking about direct experiences whereas in the
+second half “my brain” is a concept referring to physical existence. So
+he confuses experienced space with the space of the physicist, which
+no one experiences directly, and he expects to see certain particular
+parts of _experienced_ space localized in relation to parts of
+_physical_ space, which is altogether impossible.
+
+This is also the reason why every one is so astonished when he is
+first told that things, colors, etc., which he experiences as being
+external and distant, depend upon events occurring in himself! Of
+course, this is correct if meant physiologically, so that “himself” is
+the physiological organism, not experienced directly. It is far from
+correct and evident for some one who does not discriminate between the
+physical organism and “himself” as one particular whole in experience,
+because for the most part, distant things and colors do not appear
+as depending upon that particular experience, “himself,” at all.
+Why should they? In experience a tree depends upon “myself” just as
+much or as little as in the brain the particular and local process
+corresponding to “myself” determines that corresponding to the tree.
+Such an influence will sometimes occur and will then be experienced,
+too, but in general the “tree” and “I” will not depend upon each other
+more than any other segregated wholes depend upon each other when,
+dynamically, they are distant from each other.
+
+Perhaps all this is too well known to be discussed here. But four years
+ago a distinguished psychiatrist formulated this as the most difficult
+problem to be found in all the relations of “mind” and “body”: that
+things appear as being outside of us, whereas we should expect them to
+be in our interior!
+
+As yet we have taken “ourselves” and “things” exclusively as visual
+experiences. But the situation remains the same if we consider other
+experiences as well. Things, their properties, events and so on, may
+be experienced by touch instead of visually; things are warm or cold,
+they smell, are heavy, audible and so forth. But all these experiences
+are somehow localized in experienced space, either in a well-defined
+or in a more confused manner. All of them appear as localized more or
+less in relation to visual experiences. So a voice is heard as outside
+the window; this room, given visually, seems to have or contain the
+smell of a cigarette, and the cold surface of the safety-razor in my
+hand is felt where the thing is seen. Two different explanations may
+be given for the fact that all sensory experiences appear in one and
+the same space.[42] _Either_ the reason is the same as for the special
+case of binocular vision in which, notwithstanding the duality of
+peripheral sense organs, one single visual space contains all visual
+experience. What has occurred here may have happened with respect
+to _all_ sensory experiences as depending upon a large number of
+different sense organs: in phylogenesis, and also in early individual
+life, for dynamical reasons which we do not have to discuss here, the
+distribution of sensory processes in the brain may have developed in
+such a direction that, now, all of them occur in one psychophysical
+field and that, therefore, corresponding to their dynamo-geometrical
+relations, all sensory experience appears in one experienced space.
+_Or_ the relative localization of experiences furnished by different
+sense organs may have been _learned_ by all of us in early childhood,
+so that in consequence of that learning a sound, for instance,
+would seem to issue from a place in the same space in which we see
+objects. In any case, whether we accept the more “nativistic” or the
+“empiristic” explanation, all sensory experiences are now given to us
+in one space, the same space in which we have visual objects around
+us and, in one region of which, parts of “ourselves.” Some of the
+non-visual experiences are localized outside, as sounds are almost
+universally, and also weights; but other non-visual experiences appear
+_inside_ that region of the visual field which we call ourselves, as,
+for instance, the feeling of “coldness” and all kinesthesis. In the
+interior of this region we find eventually a great many experiences the
+origin of which may be a matter of much discussion, but which certainly
+are localized there somewhat diffusedly, as our feeling “tired,”
+“nervous,” “healthy,” even “happy” and so forth, i.e., the more or less
+“subjective” experiences. From what we have said about the separation
+of visual experiences as belonging partially to ourselves and partially
+to our surroundings, it will be obvious that the same thing is true of
+all other experiences except certain particular experiences which are
+always localized in our interior. All this is not more astounding than
+is the external localization of visual things outside our body, itself
+a particular visual thing.[43]
+
+After these preliminary remarks we are prepared for the treatment of
+an old problem: How does it come to pass that we ascribe to others
+experiences similar to those we have ourselves? We continually seem
+to do that, not only in general, but in particular; we attribute to
+others definite particular experiences at a definite time. To begin
+with, I shall not discuss the question, whether such attribution can
+be legitimated in psychology as a science. But in common life something
+like sympathetic attribution seems to be a most frequent occurrence,
+and may be regarded as fundamental for social psychology. What is its
+nature, and what are its modes of occurrence? A certain paradox is
+connected with the problem: sometimes other people seem to judge my
+subjective experience more soundly from without than I am able to do
+it myself “from within.” What shall I say, for instance, in order to
+describe to others what I feel as a lack of inner determination or
+as hesitation in a certain situation? But others say that they “see”
+that hesitation most clearly on my face, and I am inclined to believe
+them, since I know that characteristic expression very well from my
+observation of others. I think it was Nietzsche who occasionally
+said that somehow the “you” is earlier than the “I.” This seems to
+apply most of all to our knowledge of “character” and “personality,”
+since it is extremely difficult to get a definite picture of our own
+character from our subjective experiences, whereas the main traits of
+the character of others may sometimes be strikingly apparent in their
+attitude.
+
+I do not think that the language of others is our main or most
+trustworthy cue, in the sense that the content of it might be taken as
+a description of their experience. People do not talk sincerely about
+their subjective experiences, and we ascribe to them pomposity or
+modesty, friendliness or coldness, without their telling us a single
+word about such traits. In a foreign country, we appreciate to a great
+extent that others are “provocative” or “kind,” though we may be
+absolutely unable to understand their language. Where we do understand
+their words, their _manner_ of talking is often a better cue, and we
+trust it more than the content of their talk. Also, a certain kind of
+silence can occasionally tell us more about others than any number of
+words could reveal in the same situation. Furthermore, the behavior of
+apes, for instance, shows the unprejudiced observer that they usually
+“understand” each other very well, though they do not use language,
+in the usual meaning of that word. For these reasons, our discussion
+will deal with a fundamental aspect of our problem, even if we exclude
+language from it as communication by the meaning of words and sentences.
+
+The answer which philosophers have given to the question raised, is
+very well known. Since I cannot directly perceive the experiences of
+another, the only evidence available is his body or, more particularly,
+the changes and events which I observe as occurring on its surface,
+or issuing therefrom. These, however, have nothing to do with the
+non-apparent direct experiences of other persons, apart from the
+simple rule of concomitant variation in accordance with which definite
+direct experiences unobservable to others are usually accompanied
+by definite bodily events which are observable by others. Originally
+I learned this rule for myself alone, by observing that definite
+experiences were accompanied by definite movements or changes in _my_
+own body. This observation, made millions of times very early in my
+life, induces me to draw an inference by analogy wherever afterwards I
+observe the same bodily events in others. From the fact that the Earth
+is inhabited by organisms the inference is sometimes drawn that there
+also are organisms on another planet, similar to the Earth, as Mars is,
+for instance. In the same manner we are said to infer that behind the
+several bodily reactions or “expressions,” which we observe in others,
+there are occurring unobservably definite experiences similar to those
+we have experienced in ourselves when we have observed ourselves
+undergoing the same bodily changes. Evidently such an inference
+cannot be worth very much, as the parallel astronomical case shows.
+Furthermore, the whole theory seems to be an arbitrary construction,
+since no one explicitly draws such inferences by analogy in common
+life, though he may “understand” his fellow men to a considerable
+degree.
+
+Therefore, a modification of that hypothesis is proposed by
+psychologists. The basis of it remains the same: In millions of
+cases we have had experiences when we could observe bodily reactions
+in ourselves at the same time. The constant repetition of these
+simultaneous occurrences has built up associations between them, so
+that in the future the mere observation of certain bodily events will
+forcefully reproduce the idea of the associated definite experiences.
+But we may go further: instead of “free” ideas we very often get an
+“assimilation” of the reproduced material by the reproducing material.
+So the symbol + looks like “adding,” a coffin appears imbued with
+the gloominess of death, and the flag with the special value of our
+country. In the same way, by an enormous force of association, the
+bodily changes of others appear as imbued with those experiences which
+have so repeatedly accompanied those changes in ourselves. This is the
+reason why we seem to _see_ friendliness in other people’s faces or to
+_hear_ anger in a certain animal cry.
+
+Evidently we are dealing once more with a special application of the
+meaning theory. I do not believe it to be in principle a solution of
+the problem. First of all, from its viewpoint we should be utterly
+unable to understand any behavior in others except that which we know
+because of its extremely frequent occurrence in ourselves. But this
+logical consequence of the theory is not quite corroborated by the
+facts, for sometimes I understand others as being highly different from
+me. The characteristic manliness of Douglas Fairbanks is something
+which impresses me very much, though unfortunately I shall never be
+able to achieve it myself. On the other hand, a certain kind of envy,
+mean and hideous to the highest degree, is plainly visible to me in
+certain definite facial expressions of others. But I am happy to state
+that it does not occur among my own subjective experiences. Again, some
+psychologists are right in protesting that the theory does not work in
+the most important of all cases, which is that of facial expression.
+We do see changes in the “expression” of other people’s faces; but we
+usually do not see our own face. No one usually looks into the mirror
+when he is angry. We may “feel” some contractions of our face when
+we are angry, but since the angry face of others is given to us in
+_visual_ experience, there does not seem to be a reproducing factor
+here which might have been associated with our subjective experiences
+in previous life. Finally, a chimpanzee reacts very quickly and
+adequately to the friendly or the angry attitude of another chimpanzee.
+Shall we assume that he projects into the other’s face the reproduction
+of his own subjective experiences? This seems to be a rather bold
+assumption!
+
+Let us consider for a moment what is implicitly presupposed in this
+hypothesis, as in that of the “inference by analogy.” Why should our
+“understanding” of others be such an indirect procedure? Obviously,
+because we are convinced that “the mental life” of others is something
+radically different from and even incomparable with the bodily events
+which we can observe in their behavior. Nothing but an external
+correlation seems to exist, and to be possible here, between the facts
+of two different worlds. If that is so, we should expect that, in spite
+of assimilation, it must be extremely easy to analyze the product.
+Where things are combined, the natures of which are so different as to
+make them incomparable, the slightest effort toward analysis should
+separate them at once. But if in a friendly-looking face we try to
+separate the mere bodily configuration and the friendliness, we find
+the task rather difficult, as long as we look at the whole face and do
+not analyze the face itself as a mosaic of colored spots.
+
+This makes us wonder for a moment why philosophers and some
+psychologists should suppose that the facts of behavior, which we
+can observe in others, should be _toto genere_ different from the
+experiences which these others may have. But the reason is obvious
+enough. The “stuff” and the “events” which occur in the “bodily”
+world, on the one hand, and in the “conscious” world, on the other,
+are believed to have incomparable properties since Descartes. This is
+philosophy. And we may perceive at once that, in this connection at
+least, it is bad philosophy. For this reason: in the introduction to
+this chapter we saw that the noun “body” is dangerously ambiguous.
+It may either mean a physical organism which, as such, cannot be
+experienced directly any more than the physical structure of an atom,
+or it may mean an experienced “thing,” as a segregated visual whole.
+Now, if we talk about the “bodily events” and so forth, as the only
+material we can have and observe in order to understand others,
+the meaning of the word “bodily” can refer only to the experienced
+thing and its changes as sensory experiences, since the physical
+body of another does not occur _as such_ in any part of our direct
+experience. It is as remote and distinct from our sensory experience
+as is the “consciousness” of others. Therefore, when we discuss how we
+“understand” other people, we have to decide first of all, whether or
+not our sensory experience of others as _experienced_ “bodies” contains
+a more direct cue for that understanding. Of course, our sensory
+experience of others depends ultimately upon stimulation issuing from
+their physical bodies. But in the fifth chapter we found that our
+sensory experience will sometimes give us more valuable hints about
+the realities in which we are interested than the physical events
+themselves, which constitute the stimuli for that experience, are able
+to give. So, though in the genetic series our sensory experience of
+others is more remote from their “mental life” than are the physical
+events issuing from the surface of their bodies, we may find something
+valuable in the former which we cannot find in the latter. The most
+interesting question is whether our sensory experience of the behavior
+of others can give us a hint about those events in them which in
+ourselves we call _subjective_ experiences. We would regard it as such
+a hint if we could discover a similarity between our sensory experience
+of the behavior of others and those subjective experiences. Suppose
+that there were such a similarity, we could then dispense with the
+indirect approach through inferences by analogy, or through association
+and assimilation, since theory has approached the subjective experience
+of others indirectly only because it had assumed as a prior dogma that
+there could not be any similarity at all between the events of the
+“bodily world” and of “mental life.”
+
+I will proceed cautiously. In its efforts to assort experiences into
+separate classes, psychology has introduced certain rigid distinctions
+and barriers among the several classes which, first of all, we shall
+try to remove.
+
+One of these barriers, built by Helmholtz, is that between the
+qualities of the different senses, as though they were incomparable. I
+contend that they are comparable in more than one case. “Brightness,”
+for instance, is an attribute of some auditory as well as of visual
+experiences. We may go a little farther and say that in the “coolness”
+of an object which we touch there is a certain affinity to brightness,
+whereas in “warmth” there is something similar to dark nuances. In the
+preceding chapter I mentioned the fact that the German word “rauh”
+is used for certain auditory experiences as well as for a definite
+character of touched surfaces. Again, the German poet Morgenstern
+states that
+
+  _Die Möwen sehen alle aus, als ob sie Emma hiessen._
+
+  (All seagulls look as though their name were Emma.)
+
+To the German at least, because of his pronunciation of the name, its
+sound seems to contain something similar to the aspect of the birds.
+But we may construct another example. If, looking at these two figures
+(18 and 19), the reader is asked to choose which he would rather call
+“takete” or “maluma,” he will probably be able to decide with ease.[44]
+
+[Illustration: Fig. 18]
+
+[Illustration: Fig. 19]
+
+I take it for granted, then, that there are some similarities between
+the experiences we have through different sense organs. In passing we
+may remark that in primitive languages one finds much evidence for
+assuming that the names of things and events often originate according
+to this similarity between their properties in vision or touch, and
+certain sounds or acoustical wholes.[45] In modern languages, it is
+true, most of these names have lost much of this character.
+
+For our main problem it is interesting to know what names are given to
+subjective experiences. First of all, most of us will agree with the
+statement that, if peripheral vision is “confused” in comparison with
+foveal vision, in this respect almost all subjective experience is
+more similar to peripheral than to foveal vision. And if the reader
+agrees with me here, he has admitted that in one point, at least,
+subjective experiences may be compared with objective experiences.
+Recently Klages has collected a large number of words which we apply
+to subjective experiences and all of which have at the same time a
+meaning in the realm of objective experience.[46] Here a few instances
+must suffice. Something arouses a “bitter” feeling in us. In German one
+talks about being in a “soft” mood (_“weiche” Stimmung_). “Sweet” love
+seems to occur in all countries, also “bright” joy or “dark” grief, and
+not only in my country is wrath called “hot.”
+
+More dynamically, one talks about a tense expectation, this subjective
+experience being compared with what we feel when we touch a taut
+string. A certain kind of thinking is called “straight,” and every
+one knows immediately what is meant by it. We may have “rest” or
+“restlessness” in a visual field, but we apply the same terms to
+something similar in our subjective experience. When one feels nervous
+one might use “flickery” as an appropriate word for his subjective
+state, it being similar to visual flicker, for instance. Again, we
+feel “attracted” towards something or inclined to “reject” the idea
+of it; our spirits are “high” or “low,” and so forth. The reader will
+be able to fill out the list by dozens of other terms which, as these
+few examples, are used both for objective and subjective experiences
+without creating difficulties of understanding in communication. Some
+psychologists may refuse to draw any conclusions from such verbal
+hints. They will say that here we have to do with mere analogies. I
+cannot accept this as an argument, however, because what else is an
+analogy but some kind of similarity? Language does not use the words
+generally applied to sensory experiences in a haphazard way as terms
+for subjective experiences. If one of these terms is applied to just
+one class of subjective states or experiences, and not to others, and
+a second of these terms is applied exclusively to a second class, and
+so on, there must be some principle which regulates this definite
+extension of meaning. Furthermore, there must be something at the basis
+of the correct _understanding_ of this kind of verbal practice, when
+a _new_ application and transfer of meaning is suddenly invented by
+some one trying to describe his subjective state in a lively manner. I
+contend that this _something_ is a certain degree of similarity between
+definite experiences of the “inner” and “outer” world.
+
+Though I realize that there is some truth in the James-Lange theory
+of emotional experiences, I do not wish to make my statements seem to
+depend upon this theory. Of course, if the so-called emotional aspect
+of subjective experience _is_ sensory experience issuing from our
+muscles, viscera, and so forth, it will be a truism that emotional
+experiences are “similar” to certain “sensory” experiences, since
+they are declared even to be identical by that hypothesis. But we
+may recognize a similarity without accepting the identity. From this
+viewpoint, maintaining a certain cautiousness toward the James-Lange
+theory, we may find a similarity even between subjective experiences
+and those of vision or hearing, so that, in this respect, our theory
+would be more general than that of James and Lange.
+
+With this preparation we can approach the problem, whether our
+objective experience of the behavior of others is capable of showing us
+something essentially similar to their “mental life”--a question which
+has a reasonable meaning if understood in terms of the last paragraphs.
+I shall discuss a few concrete cases in which unprejudiced observation
+seems to give a clear answer.
+
+Two scientists in Poland are talking about the difference of their
+theories. I can observe their behavior as it develops before me in my
+visual and acoustical experience but, since they talk in a foreign
+language, I cannot understand their words. For a while the aspect
+of the scene is calm, both visually and acoustically. But suddenly
+the man to the left, as though “struck” by some of his colleague’s
+words, makes but a slight receding movement of the head and, from this
+moment, the quality of his voice and the expression of his face show a
+certain character of hardness. To this change there seems to correspond
+immediately a transformation of the other’s behavior, insofar as, from
+now on, the man to the right becomes a picture of what the musician
+calls “crescendo,” both as I see and as I hear him. Soon the first
+person also becomes increasingly dynamic, and the whole scene is
+approaching an extreme state of agitation, when presently I see the
+man to the right looking at a placard on the wall and smiling. He says
+a few words to the other, who also looks in that direction, a certain
+brightness appearing on his face at the same time; and from this moment
+their conversation resumes its initial smoothness and placid quality.
+
+These scientists happen to know the German language. So, when the
+discussion is over, the man to the left tells me that a short while
+after the conversation started some unexpected words of his friend
+appeared to him as a personal offense or insult, and that he could
+not avoid having a bitter feeling as a result of it. The friend, on
+the other hand, reports that, beginning rather abruptly, the man to
+the left manifested such a closed and hard appearance, as though to
+indicate that he would never surrender his position or be open to
+persuasion, and that as a result he felt anger continually rising and
+increasing within himself. The first, the man to the left, reports that
+a similar wave of irritation occurred in himself after a while; and
+both of them tell me that the placard on the wall reads “Keep smiling”
+in their language, and that, almost at once after becoming aware of it,
+they felt much more relaxed and calm.
+
+Is it really possible to deny that in such a case my objective
+experience pictures some essential traits of what the others experience
+subjectively? I see the two scientists as one visual group, the members
+of which are directed towards each other in all their attitudes.
+Similarly, each of them feels that he is attacking the other or
+defending his own opinions against an attack directed toward them.
+Again, the sudden receding movement of one of them pictures very well
+the felt increase of social distance which followed from something like
+an offense. Neither will deny that, from this moment, there began an
+emotional crescendo, which found an adequate expression in the visual
+and acoustical crescendo of my sensory experience of the total scene.
+Finally, I could see the return to calmness, resulting from their
+looking at the placard for a moment. And this calmness itself, as seen
+and heard by me, is similar to what both tell me about their subjective
+state at that time.
+
+But the lesson which this example teaches seems extremely general
+to me. It seems to teach that all forms of dynamical development
+occurring in subjective experiences may be expressed by similar forms
+of objective experiences in the sensory field of an observer. Quite
+generally the inner processes, whether emotional or intellectual, show
+types of development which may be given names, usually applied to
+musical events, such as: _crescendo_ and _diminuendo_, _accelerando_
+and _ritardando_. As these qualities occur in the world of auditory
+experiences, they are found in the visual world too, and so they can
+express _similar_ dynamical traits of inner life in directly observable
+behavior. Who has not found himself occasionally walking faster when
+thinking about the disagreeable attitude of an adversary! Again,
+to the increasing inner tempo and dynamical level there corresponds
+a _crescendo_ and _accelerando_ in visible movement. Of course, the
+same inner development may express itself acoustically, as in the
+_accelerando_ and _reforzando_ of speech. Or look at your friend on
+different mornings. Sometimes his movements will be even and calm,
+sometimes his whole visible surface, his face and his fingers, will be
+unstable and restless. He does not need to tell you in the first case
+that he is well and at rest, nor in the second that he feels restless
+subjectively, because both states are apparent directly in your
+objective experience. In the same way, hesitation and lack of inner
+determination become visible in a form obviously similar to them as
+subjective experiences, as _ritardando_ of visible or audible behavior,
+or as slight, disorderly, starting movements in different directions,
+not organized into one whole. As long as human beings behave naturally,
+any _sudden_ change of inner direction, any sudden event in their
+subjective life, will appear as a sudden event on their visible surface
+or in their speech-melody. In a moment of _sudden_ fright, human beings
+_jump_ back, or start. When some one experiences that flash by which a
+new idea or the solution of a problem comes to him, he will suddenly
+interrupt his walking or abruptly strike his head. Here both his inner
+experience and his outer aspect will exhibit the same interruption
+of continuity. For similar reasons the activity of a man, as it is
+seen by us, will often show an organization which corresponds to the
+organization of his doing and planning, as experienced subjectively.
+Actions which flow from one determining source appear as one stream of
+visible events in most cases. Where a new “idea” leads to new action
+in subjective experience, the observer will see one stream of visible
+development ceasing and another one starting independently. If one
+action consists of relatively segregated members, subjectively, the
+same “articulation” will frequently prevail in visible behavior. So
+with regard to dynamical structure, not only the so-called expressive
+movements but also the practical behavior of human beings is a good
+picture of their inner life, in a great many cases. The reader who
+may have lost the feeling here that I am discussing concrete things
+should review an earlier chapter in which, among other examples, the
+organization of seen movement was considered. In my book _The Mentality
+of Apes_ the description of animal behavior includes a great many
+instances of this type.
+
+It will be convenient, however, to treat in detail a few examples
+which are of a somewhat different kind. In objective as well as in
+subjective experience we find states to which the names of “tension”
+and “direction” may be applied. If my attention is attracted by a
+strange object, a snake for instance, I feel directed toward it and
+at the same time a feeling of tension is experienced. A friend, even
+if he has not recognized the snake, will see me and especially my
+face and eyes directed toward it; in the tension of my face he will
+have a visual picture of my inner tension, as in its direction he has
+a direct picture of the direction which I experience. It cannot be
+said in objection that vision will not apprise him in any way of my
+“connection” with the object, since there is nothing in space between
+my eyes and the snake, which might be a “stimulus” for his seeing that
+connection. Such an argument seems to forget what has been said about
+grouping in visual space. As soon as my eyes are seen looking in a
+definite direction--and in this respect our eyes are astonishingly
+expressive--a segregated whole or object, which in the field of an
+observer is situated in that line of direction, may become immediately
+connected with my gaze and my whole person. This case of grouping is
+not more problematic than all the others we have discussed. We may at
+once add the case in which the direction of attitude is the opposite,
+i.e., away from something. Again, grouping may become so striking that
+no one can see such a movement or reaction without referring it to a
+definite object, from which it is averted, exactly as the event is felt
+subjectively by the person whom we are observing. As an example, I give
+the following statements, taken from a famous experiment, literally:
+
+“He started to reach for the head of the animal with the forefinger of
+his left hand but withdrew it suddenly before contact.”
+
+(Wool is presented to a child in a paper package).... “He then began
+to play with the paper, avoiding contact with the wool itself.” Both
+statements occur in Dr. Watson’s description of his experiments with
+children.[47] In the first, the movement of a finger is compellingly
+seen as _directed toward the animal_, though “objective” methods of
+observation, as Dr. Watson understands the term, would not find the
+slightest connection in space between the finger and the animal, and
+though, therefore, his description seems to imply an almost purposive
+psychology. In the second statement, the same observation applies
+to the words “avoiding contact with the wool.” “Avoid” is a term
+which may surprise us in a description governed by the ideal of the
+natural sciences and the fear of so-called “purpose.” However that
+may be, the example shows that, in visual experience, the tendency
+toward grouping and directed reference is so strong that even the most
+radical behaviorist cannot resist it. Therefore, if I “avoid contact”
+with a definite object or if I “reach for” another, these facts of my
+experience must be excellently pictured in the organized field which an
+observer of my behavior himself beholds as his _objective_ experience.
+
+In the last few examples it is the spatial, more than the temporal,
+side of visible behavior which resembles the inner experiences of
+a person. This is also the case, where a state of inner depression
+expresses itself in a drooping carriage of the body as a visual
+whole, similar to the posture of the normal person in a period of
+extreme fatigue or sorrow, but even more decidedly in the attitude
+characteristic of certain insane patients. Just the contrary is seen
+in those patients who enjoy a supranormal euphoria or “elevation.”
+Usually, their body as a visual thing will show most clearly a
+corresponding erectness, and in one case, which Dr. Janet described
+admirably at the last International Congress, the patient began to walk
+on tiptoe.
+
+Most readers will be well acquainted with the next case which, by
+the way, is particularly interesting for social psychology. A man in
+a leading position, but perhaps a little too good-hearted for his
+office, treats his inferiors as friends. When he sometimes finds
+himself obliged to censure one of them severely, and to make him feel
+that friendly relations are over, such a man becomes a most suggestive
+object of observation. If he has not already trained himself on
+previous occasions, he will have the greatest difficulty in uttering
+those decisive words which will show the other quite openly and
+definitely that the superior has radically changed his mind. In spite
+of the best intentions provided by a feeling of duty, those words will
+not be uttered, but in their place others which do not go to the
+center of the affair. They come near to it; the other man may guess
+the whole truth from them if he is sensitive enough, but they leave
+something like a screen around the main point. Viewed from without the
+official’s activity is a picture of his inner perturbation. The stress
+of firm intention is in him, but social factors prevent his behaving
+entirely according to his intentions. Consequently you may see him
+walking up and down before the other, as a magnetic needle swings in
+the field of force. He himself feels the strain and the obligation to
+act directly, but also feels that he is constantly “deflected.” When
+he stops, his eyes are worth observing. All the inner direction and
+difficulties of a person become visible more easily in the sensitive
+play of the eyes than elsewhere, particularly under the pressure of
+“social forces.” Of course, it is rather easy to say nice things (which
+one does not believe) to another man, while looking into his eyes
+steadily. Social forces are not opposed to that; on the contrary, they
+operate precisely in that direction. But try to look into another’s
+eyes, i.e., toward what we experience for some reason as the center of
+the other man’s personality, and then tell him what obligates you to
+be less friendly toward him, and, as it were, to reject him socially!
+For some persons this is an extremely onerous task. So the man in our
+example may well intend to look into the other’s eyes; but his own
+eyes will either stop short somewhere, at the mouth or the nose, for
+instance, or when they reach the full glance of the other man, they
+will be deflected very soon as though by an irresistible force. Just
+as this man feels his intentions bending around and his words avoiding
+the socially decisive step, his visible behavior appears to us as
+persistently deflected from the main direction, which is toward the
+other, and especially from the visible center of his personality, i.e.,
+his eyes.
+
+This may suffice as a description of cases in which the similarity
+of the objective and the subjective experiences of the same behavior
+seems to me obvious. The reader will find a great many other examples,
+as soon as he begins to observe other people from this point of view.
+If that similarity is not a familiar fact to the psychologist, the
+reason may be the analytical tendency of our science. Indeed, when
+we think of other people’s appearance in terms of local nuances of
+brightness, chroma, and so forth, we feel inclined to deny the idea of
+such similarity. But as soon as we look upon behavior more naïvely and
+are not afraid to recognize grouping, and a great many qualities of the
+von Ehrenfels type, as realities in sensory experience, the similarity
+becomes obvious in thousands of cases.
+
+Our problem has a genetical side also. Why should behavior in the
+objective experience of an observer be similar to what is being
+experienced subjectively by the individual under observation? The
+answer is rather simple in the case of temporal and dynamical
+traits of behavior. A pianist while playing a sonata is living in a
+dynamical stream, the organization of which is very clear to him.
+In his experience he ends one “phrase” now and at a definite moment
+begins the next one. He starts a _crescendo_ as the Ehrenfels-quality
+of one musical development and a _ritardando_ as that of another.
+Whatever the laws of motor innervation may be, the impulses which
+are conducted to his muscles follow the organization of the scheme
+he “has in mind.” The final results are sound waves, and these are
+not dynamically organized, because in the air one wave is independent
+of the previous waves and so forth. But something remains which is
+sufficient for organization in those who listen. Where he intends a
+_crescendo_ as an Ehrenfels-quality, the product of his playing will
+be a series of waves of increasing intensity. In those who listen
+this series will produce an acoustical whole which again has the same
+Ehrenfels-quality of “swelling.” Where, in his experience, he ends a
+“phrase” and afterwards starts a new one, the relations of the waves
+as to temporal distance, intensity, and so forth, will be such that
+in the acoustical organization experienced by the audience one whole
+ends and a new one begins at corresponding moments. In some respects
+the situation is the same as in the case of physical objects that
+appear as segregated wholes in visual experience. Though among the
+light-waves reflected by the surfaces of objects, and consequently
+among the stimuli projected upon the retina, there is no organization,
+the relations between the stimuli are so well preserved that, in the
+nervous system, organization, which depends upon those relations, will
+generally build up “adequate” wholes. As in this case, organization
+comes nearer the objective facts in some essential points than the
+indifferent mosaic of stimuli does, so in our example, acoustical
+organization will correspond to something in the pianist which does not
+exist _as such_ in the sound waves between him and his audience. Once
+more the mediating properties of the stimuli are their relationships.
+If we assume that the pianist has experiences similar to our own,
+the knowledge implicit in our acoustical organization goes beyond
+the knowledge implicit in our having visual objects as segregated
+wholes. For the organization which we experience will correspond not
+only to the organization of his nervous processes, but also to the
+organization of his musical “intentions,” as he _experiences_ them. In
+order to understand this, we must remember the concluding remarks of
+the second chapter. If the pianist intends a musical phrase as a whole,
+shall we assume that the processes corresponding to that experienced
+development-as-a-whole are also one whole functionally, or shall we
+assume the contrary? Where, for his experience, the phrase ends and
+after a discontinuity a new one begins, shall we suppose that the
+corresponding processes of his brain are functionally continuous or
+shall we assume that the physiological organization is discontinuous,
+and hence similar to that of his experiences? _Gestalt_ psychology
+assumes the similarity of organization in both cases; it makes
+this hypothesis quite generally and in all respects. And from this
+viewpoint the genesis of communication between the experiences of one
+man and those of another becomes simple enough. The experiences of
+the first, the pianist, are a picture of the corresponding processes
+in his brain, so far as organization is concerned. Innervation of
+the pianist’s muscles occurs as something like a projection of that
+picture upon his muscles. The sound-waves which he produces are not
+organized, but the relations between them somehow correspond to and
+represent that previous organization. In a similar nervous system a
+new organization is built up depending upon those relations existing
+among the acoustical stimuli. To some degree it will be similar to
+that which exists or has just existed in the nervous system of the
+pianist. Therefore the experience corresponding to these processes
+will be correspondingly similar to the organization of the experience
+in the pianist. As in this example, the similarity between the inner
+experiences of one man and the sensory experience of another may be
+explained wherever we find such a correspondence existing with respect
+to temporal organization and dynamics.
+
+It will not be necessary to repeat the argument in the case of
+“direction,” of “tension,” of “lack of determination,” and so forth.
+Even where we do not have full insight into the reasons _why_ the
+peripheral overt behavior of a human organism pictures the organization
+of its experiences, or better that of the corresponding processes in
+his brain, we have to admit that this connection very often exists.
+The temporal and other relations of the stimuli which are produced
+by such activity in one organism are just the right ones, then, to
+determine the appropriate organization and similar Ehrenfels-qualities
+in other organisms receptive to those stimuli. A man who makes a great
+effort to find a name which he cannot immediately remember will, very
+probably, contract his face. The face thus contracted produces just the
+constellation of stimuli which, in the objective experience of another,
+will determine the character of “tension” as an Ehrenfels-quality
+of that face as a visual whole. We have also seen how the almost
+inevitable visual grouping of a man with those objects towards which he
+is directed, will complete the picture so that, in this respect too, we
+see something similar to what is going on “in” that man.
+
+At this point the reader may protest that, after all, our understanding
+of other people remains an indirect affair. Though, in our objective
+experience, the other may exhibit properties similar sometimes to his
+inner experiences, our objective experience remains something different
+numerically from those inner experiences of another. The first gives
+us what we call “bodily events” in direct objective experience,
+whereas the second will never become an objective experience of ours.
+Therefore, in one point at least, we do not seem to be better off than
+other theorists! Something like a concluding step in our analysis seems
+to be needed if we are to use our objective experiences as a basis for
+guessing about similar inner processes in others.
+
+Indeed, the discussion has proceeded to this point as though in
+this final step the old and the new idea would become identical
+compulsively, the only difference being the acknowledgment of a much
+better basis for this last step in the new theory. It is now time,
+however, to change this aspect of the problem. It has to be changed
+in the direction of agreement with what is sound and justified in
+behaviorism.
+
+If I recollect the incidents of a day which has been particularly
+filled with social contacts and the continual necessity of
+understanding other people, I have to confess that I have scarcely, if
+ever, had an “image,” or anything like it, of the inner experiences
+of those other people! To speak the truth: I have never even thought
+of the possibility of having one. I intentionally summon such an
+“image” now, in the hope of producing and “having” what, from the usual
+viewpoint, should always be the kernel of social understanding. But
+the resulting product is very poor and decidedly unusual. It becomes
+quite obvious by such a test that generally social understanding does
+_not_ depend upon that procedure. What else happens then? The answer is
+simple, though it will surprise some of my readers.
+
+In my objective experience of my neighbor’s anger there is no “dualism”
+between the “movements of his body” and his “inner experiences.” Even
+for the scientist this dualism does not exist, so long as he remains
+naïve and does not theorize too much. To ask for the _final step_ from
+certain of our objective experiences, viz., the behavior of others,
+to the inference of their inner life, is nothing but the introduction
+of a sophisticated, scientific and philosophical classification into
+a field which, to the unprejudiced observer, does not require such a
+treatment. Philosophy, in trying to build up a picture of the world,
+may be compelled, perhaps, to make a distinction between “mind” and
+“body.” But that does not mean that our objective experience of others
+must appear to us as something insufficient and limited, _behind_ which
+an altogether different kind of event occurs. This is not necessary
+because objective experience as such contains _all_ the material needed
+for understanding others, at least in all those cases which we have
+treated here. When I refer to the calmness of another man standing
+before me in everyday life, I refer to his visible appearance, which is
+not something “merely” visible to me, but contains all the “calmness”
+I am interested in _without any further idea about something additional
+such as, for instance, his “consciousness_.” If he becomes more and
+more excited, according to my eyes and ears, this _crescendo_ is not
+an indifferent sensory fact. In its dynamical properties it _contains_
+what I call the man’s excitement, and I do not think of the man as a
+locus of events belonging to an essentially different world. At least,
+before I begin to philosophize, I do not do so. In the same way, when
+I refer to other men’s “hesitation,” “restlessness,” “determination,”
+“depression,” “avoiding,” “reaching for,” and also their “joy,” “fear,”
+“anger,” “embarrassment” and so forth, I am usually far from inferring
+“inner experiences” in them, by making “a last step” from my sensory
+experiences into quite another field. On the contrary, what I denote by
+those terms _remains_ entirely in sensory space. Though the terms may
+also be applied to _my_ inner experiences, which often are strikingly
+similar to those objective experiences, they do not usually refer to
+the inner experiences of others when used in an everyday description of
+their conduct.
+
+May I ask the reader to make an experiment before criticizing these
+statements? It is easy enough to produce embarrassment in some one.
+If the reader tries it and if he becomes convinced that he has
+been successful, he should ask himself whether what he calls the
+embarrassment of the other is not present to him in sensory space. He
+should also ask whether or not he imagines something out of another
+world, i.e., the subjectively experienced embarrassment of the other,
+when he “understands” that man’s behavior, as we understand each other
+in daily life. Sometimes, it is true, we experience the other man’s
+attitude as something issuing from “his interior.” But what is here
+called “his interior” is a part of the same sensory space in which his
+visible face is seen. Even such a description does not refer to events
+in a world apart; it means an event in the self-same world in which we
+see the other “looking at a definite object,” for instance. If in my
+objective experience the other man is a segregated whole and if to this
+whole there corresponds a functional whole of processes in my brain,
+we have no right to expect that the dynamics of that functional whole
+should be restricted to its boundary in all cases, the interior of it
+remaining altogether empty. So we may well understand the fact that
+sometimes a dynamical attitude seems to issue from another person’s
+“interior.”
+
+The conclusion of this discussion is that the “numerical difference”
+between fear as experienced subjectively and fear as experienced
+objectively by an observer, shall not be denied. But we have to
+add immediately that this theoretical difference does not play an
+appreciable rôle in common life, because here, from the viewpoint
+of a naïve observer, the frightened behavior, as it is experienced
+objectively, _is the_ fear of the other. Similarly, to this observer
+the pencil before him _is the_ pencil, though in a moment of
+theoretical consideration he may realize that, in addition to it, there
+exists a pencil as an unexperienced physical object.
+
+I mention one more consequence of this theory or, as one should better
+say, of this description: All physical events or states which send
+similar constellations of stimuli to our eyes and ears, as issue from
+the physical body of another person, will look or sound “emotional,”
+“restless,” “directed towards something,” “determined,” and so forth,
+just as a living person does. No one can hear naïvely the rumbling
+_crescendo_ of thunder without thus understanding it as “menacing.”
+Different types of weather are experienced in the same manner, i.e.,
+as calm or restless or friendly, and so forth.[48] No one thinks
+of imagining the subjective experiences of the weather in such a
+case. What surrounds us in sensory space, we describe as restless or
+menacing or friendly, because these are the dynamical attributes or
+Ehrenfels-qualities which characterize the sensory experiences in
+question.
+
+I wish to state expressly, however, that sometimes the problem of
+“understanding” seems to present difficulties which cannot be solved
+in this way. Wherever the objective experience which we have of
+another person does not appear as similar to those inner experiences
+which he probably has, a new situation is before us. One might say,
+for instance, that, from the viewpoint of our theory, laughing as seen
+and heard by others is not an appropriate expression of that group of
+subjective states which are usually accompanied by laughing. Whether
+in such cases the theory of association and assimilation, or any
+other indirect explanation, may be accepted as a supplement, I shall
+not try to decide here. Suppose that such a supplement should become
+necessary; the facts described in this chapter would be an excellent
+basis for it, because where understanding has already occurred as
+something direct and obvious, this core of experiences might well tend
+to complete itself in the form of meaning acquired indirectly. On the
+other hand, we do not claim that what is going on within a person will
+_always_ be evident in his sensory appearance. A theory that would
+pretend so much could not possibly be right. Most persons begin to
+conceal themselves to some degree early in life. A well-trained actor
+or pianist does not “look” his stage fright at all; he does not “sound”
+it either. To be sure, sometimes, calmness acquired as a social form
+will become transparent in consequence of some slight but treacherous
+nuance of effort in it. Real embarrassment, as, for instance, in the
+example considered above (pp. 253-255), is a thing which few people
+can conceal altogether. By no means can we deny, however, that
+innumerable passing events and traits of inner life remain hidden in
+social contact, because suppression of peripheral “projection” has
+become a facile automatism in adults. Moreover, I shall concede without
+hesitation that, on the way from organized processes in one person
+through the transmission by waves of light or sound to new organization
+in a second person, much may be lost or distorted. The theory gives
+us neither an altogether new nor an altogether perfect key to another
+person’s inner life; it tries only to describe so far as it can that
+kind of understanding which is the common property and practice of
+mankind.
+
+A special relevant task consists in considering what further effects
+those sensory experiences may have, which, possessing the qualities
+of calmness or restlessness, of tension or relaxation, and so forth,
+appear to us both in our fellow men and the weather. In our nervous
+system, the processes underlying those experiences do not remain
+isolated, the psychophysical field is larger, and other parts of it are
+very apt to develop processes which we experience as subjective. We
+have seen that these have much in common with the processes underlying
+our objective experience of the behavior of others. Therefore, a rather
+direct influence seems to be possible. Social contagion particularly,
+but also fear, as an effect of menacing objective experience, or
+haughtiness as a consequence of the humbleness of others, experienced
+objectively, must be considered from the new viewpoint.
+
+These are problems which we may leave to a future time when the
+simpler facts described in this chapter will have found more general
+acknowledgment. One word more shall be said, however, about the
+application of the new viewpoint to scientific method. In this respect
+one might be inclined to say that such an understanding of others
+is all right for the purposes of common life, but not for those of
+science. It ought to be excluded, therefore, from behavioristic
+studies as something which originates in our sensory processes as a
+very indirect and complicated result of stimulation. We have seen,
+however, that even such a radical behaviorist as Dr. Watson does not
+keep himself free from its use, because too little would be left
+of the qualitative observation and description of behavior, if he
+should try seriously to exclude even the slightest trace of that
+“understanding.” Take the example of the physicist! If he would exclude
+from objective observation whatever exists for him as a product of
+sensory organization only, he could neither rely upon the sensory
+segregation of _objects_, including his apparatus, nor upon their
+_form_ as a visual experience, since it does not exist without the
+“indirect and complicated” processes of sensory organization. It is
+obvious that such an extreme procedure would make his scientific
+task an impossible affair. Quite the same is true of behavioristic
+psychology. At least as preliminary material the sensory experiences
+which we have considered in this chapter have to be used, wherever they
+occur as striking and evident in behavior as objective experience. With
+naïve confidence the physicist did likewise to a great extent, before
+he could develop the present methods of his science which restrict the
+use of sensory experience to certain special and very reliable cases.
+In our young science it will be convenient to follow his example with
+caution, as we proposed in the second chapter. But I wish to lay some
+stress upon the necessary caution. Only those should be allowed to
+apply this method in objective psychology who know how to discriminate
+between the apparent data of objective experience and the mere play of
+untrained and prejudiced imagination.
+
+
+BIBLIOGRAPHY
+
+  Buytendijk und Plessner: _Philosophischer Anzeiger_. 1925.
+
+  E. von Hornbostel: _Festschrift Meinhof_.
+
+  L. Klages: _Vom Wesen des Bewusstseins_. 1921.
+
+  W. Köhler: _Die Methoden der psychologischen Forschung beim Affen_
+  (Cf. Chapter II).
+
+  Usnadze: Psychol. Forsch., 5. 1924.
+
+
+
+
+VIII
+
+_Association_
+
+
+WITHOUT the observation of direct experience we should be in great
+danger of constructing an artificially simplified system of psychology,
+as is that of current behaviorism. On the other hand, it seems
+absolutely impossible to me to develop psychology as a science of
+direct experience or of “consciousness.” For the development of that
+science the field of actual experience alone is inadequate, especially
+when compared with the totality of those processes in the nervous
+system, a few of which are at each moment accompanied by experience,
+but _all_ of which seem to be more or less interdependent. How can one
+pretend to construct an adequate theory of psychological events using
+experience alone, if the processes underlying experience are merely
+a dynamical province of a much larger functional whole? It is almost
+impossible to deny this fact nowadays. Therefore, we cannot hope to
+understand experience itself exclusively from its own aspect, any more
+than one could hope to learn and understand the game of chess through
+watching only the moves in one corner of the board the whole time.
+
+In this latter case the observer of the game would soon become aware
+of the fact that something important was going on beyond the narrow
+field of his observation, that evidently the moves in it referred
+to something beyond, since they even seemed to come from there and
+to disappear again into the unseen. Exactly the same is true of
+experience. When reading or talking about things which are not present,
+we do not usually develop adequate “images” of them. Sometimes scarcely
+anything at all seems to be experienced of those absent things. When
+asked about my profession I answer that I am a psychologist. But all
+the _actual_ experience connected with this word is a certain feeling
+of familiarity, of being sure about it, and of a certain direction
+in which I might start at once in order to furnish more concrete and
+detailed data. This “readiness for transition” in a definite direction,
+the mark of which is not given explicitly in actual experience, has
+been described excellently by William James. It is one of the most
+frequent and common things to be found in experience. And its most
+conspicuous character consists in its being _experienced as_ pointing
+beyond the actual field of experience towards something particular
+and ready outside. So experience tells us about its own functional
+incompleteness. Nor should we be too much astonished by the fact;
+nothing else can be expected if, of a larger functional whole, only
+a restricted field has experience as a correlate; to the dynamical
+dependence of this field upon definite physiological states beyond
+itself corresponds the felt definite direction in experience. Though
+not experienced actually, those physiological states “beyond” seem to
+be definite enough; for in general our reading and talking go the right
+way, sufficiently determined by those “states beyond.”
+
+Perhaps the simplest example of this is “successive comparison,” in its
+different forms. After a few years of traveling I meet a friend, and
+my first idea is “How old he looks!” That does not at all mean that he
+looks particularly old on an absolute scale. I see older-looking men
+every day. Nor does it mean that I reproduce an image of him, as I knew
+him before, and now compare the two. Nevertheless, what is meant refers
+to the past and represents an extreme form of what occurs in most cases
+of successive comparison. If five seconds after a first noise I hear a
+second one, similar but sufficiently louder, I am able to judge about
+the relation of their intensities without any difficulty, though I do
+_not_ reproduce the first at the moment of the second. (Personally, I
+am not able to experience even a somewhat inadequate “image” of one
+noise when I hear a second one which is slightly different.) In this
+point all observers at present seem to agree.
+
+But how do we judge about the relation, if only one of the noises is
+actually experienced? We may answer that we do not experience the
+second noise as something isolated and discrete, but that, when it
+occurs, it seems to come with a definite direction “from something
+in the past.”[49] Even if we take this for granted, however, our
+problem is not yet solved. Our judgments are usually rather accurate.
+Hence, what is left of the past, i.e., of the first sound, which now
+determines the direction with which the second noise appears, must be a
+fairly definite representative of the first noise. On the other hand,
+this _trace_ of the first sound is an effect not comparable to that
+process which, five seconds before, was accompanied by our experience
+of the first sound. If it were still of the same kind, it should be
+accompanied by a similar experience throughout, which it certainly
+is not. Hence, the only possibility seems to be that a physiological
+product of that first process remains after that process itself has
+ceased, that such a product represents sufficiently well that process
+by which it was produced, and that the definite direction with which
+the second noise appears depends upon the “level” of that product in
+its relation to the intensity of the second noise.
+
+The concentration of those molecules which have taken part in the
+first process may be considered as a product of that process, left
+behind as its trace, with corresponding properties. There are other
+hypotheses. But no theory will be competent which does not assume
+some trace corresponding more or less to the actual properties of the
+first process. Some years ago I developed a more detailed theory of
+successive comparison, primarily concerned with the way in which the
+trace of a first sound determines the direction with which the second
+sound appears.[50] I concluded that by experimentation on successive
+comparison we are able to find out what happens to the trace of the
+first process after this process itself has ceased. The final result of
+these considerations was that such a trace is preserved for a long time
+and that, probably, it is identical with what has to be assumed as the
+physiological basis of enduring memory and of reproduction.
+
+In some degree all sound theories of memory, of habit, and so forth,
+will be hypotheses about physiological traces. Furthermore, each of
+these theories will have to assume that the properties of the traces
+correspond more or less to those of the processes by which they were
+produced. Otherwise we should not be able to explain the accuracy of
+reproduction which in a great many cases is very high. In _gestalt_
+psychology we state at once the assumption that, as far as the original
+process (and the experience which may have accompanied it) has been
+organized in a definite manner, its trace must have similar properties
+of organization, in general. Take the examples given in Chapter VI
+where the concept of “real form” was considered. If certain segregated
+wholes with definite forms are experienced in our field of vision, the
+aspect of one of them later on may reproduce other experiences which
+had been present at the same time. But if, for some reason, instead of
+that particular organization, grouping and form, we experience other
+wholes with their real forms, no reproduction will occur, though the
+same, or almost the same, stimuli may be given us. So the number 4 will
+reproduce its name when written in a certain environment (cf. p. 209),
+but when Fig. 10 is shown to an unprejudiced subject, this name will
+not occur at all. On the other hand, if the subject has once found the
+4 in that figure, which means that 4 has now become a segregated whole,
+he will consequently find it again easily, and reproduce the name.
+From this it follows that the traces of past experiences are neither
+an indifferent continuum nor a mosaic of independent points; rather
+they must be pictures of past organization. As such they take part in
+processes of reproduction.
+
+This same property of the traces may be deduced from recognition.
+When Rubin induced his subjects at the first presentation to see
+certain pictures in a definite distribution of figure and ground,
+they recognized them very well if, afterwards, the same organization
+was favored by the conditions of the experiment. If, however, in the
+second presentation what had been figure before became ground, and
+vice versa, the subjects found unknown forms in the field, i.e.,
+failed to recognize, though the constellation of stimuli was the same
+throughout. Here again the traces are shown to correspond entirely to
+past organization, and not to the aggregate of past stimuli. We may go
+a little further: In most cases of reproduction the reproduced material
+itself appears as organized. This is true not only of “images,” but
+also of motor “melodies” with which we are well acquainted, as Michotte
+and van der Veldt have shown most vividly in a recent book.[51]
+Readers who have visual images will easily find that their image of a
+definite individual tree is detached from the dim environment, as a
+figure-whole possessing a real form. Of course, in “free imagination”
+and in dreaming the field given us may be very different from any
+sensory experience we have ever had before. Nevertheless, even the
+oddest creations of dreaming will remain figures, groups or events,
+which, whether very definite in shape or not, exhibit all the essential
+properties of organization.
+
+So decisive will organization be in a tremendous number of cases that
+we may change the stimuli in the most radical manner and still get the
+same recognition or the same reproduction, if only the essential traits
+of the organization in question remain the same. A melody is recognized
+in a key which may not contain a single tone of its first presentation.
+Or again, some days after we have heard it the first time we find
+ourselves humming it spontaneously in a changed key. Here all the
+factors excepting organization seem to be indifferent for reproduction.
+I hardly need mention the fact that an unknown figure seen to-day
+in red color somewhat to the left of the point of fixation and in a
+definite size, will be recognized without difficulty if to-morrow it
+appears as green or yellow, somewhat to the right and in quite another
+size.[52] Evidently, then, recognition and reproduction deal with the
+organization of past events as much or rather more than with local
+effects of stimulation, which are assumed as the parts of past events
+in mosaic theory. We shall come back to this point later on.
+
+From this viewpoint some facts can be explained which would remain
+perplexing if we did not recognize the reality of organization. When
+we experiment on delayed reaction in animals we find that some of them
+are able to choose the right object, let us say among three equal
+ones before them, after a delay of many seconds or even some minutes;
+though at the time when the delay is over and we release the animal,
+the right object does not exhibit any peculiar traits, as it did before
+the delay. If, during the delay, the animal remains directed towards
+the right object, his correct choice is not very astonishing. A real
+problem arises in the case in which the animal moves freely in his
+cage during the delay and still assumes the right direction after we
+release it. It has been said that in such a case the animal’s reaction
+depends upon some internal cue. This is true insofar as there would
+be no reason at all for the right reaction after the delay without
+some after-effect of previous stimulation (for instance, the aspect
+of food) which at that time made one object a particular thing. That
+after-effect is undoubtedly an internal cue. But when, after the
+delay and after accidental movements of the animal, the internal cue
+works the right way, there must be some characteristic of the right
+object by which it can be discriminated. This something cannot be
+discovered when we examine each object by itself, because in exact
+experimentation they all have the same properties. Still there is
+some difference between them, and this difference is the rôle which
+each object plays in the group. One is the left end, one the right
+end, and one the middle or interior part of the group. If, with that
+after-effect as an internal cue, the animal reacts after the delay, the
+only property (of the right object) which can make the animal refer its
+cue to the right object is _the place of that object in the group of
+three objects_.[53] The particular stimulus (the food, for instance,
+or a light, as in Hunter’s famous experiments) which was given at the
+beginning of the delay has operated as a distinguishing mark of one
+definite and well characterized member of the group (let us say, of
+the first to the right in a single case). Therefore, after the delay,
+the group, and that definite rôle which just one member of it plays
+in sensory process, is able to work upon the cue and to produce the
+right reaction. In this sense delayed reaction to one among several
+objects, having identical properties as isolated objects, involves
+the principles of organization and cannot be understood without them.
+This becomes even more obvious, perhaps, when we consider the multiple
+choice method which Yerkes has used with so much success. There it is
+evidently the definite rôle of one object in a group which has become
+connected with a definite reaction and consequently will reproduce that
+reaction whatever may be the position of the group.
+
+The main interest of experimental psychology has not been directed
+toward the nature of the traces which are left in the nervous system
+after the original processes have faded away. When we say that the
+traces of organized processes must be organized themselves, we do not
+seem to have mentioned the most important feature of memory, habit
+and so forth, namely, that those traces are _connected_ in the manner
+which is generally called their “association” and which leads to the
+reproduction of the second when the first is activated by a repetition
+of its process. That there are traces is one basic factor of habit,
+etc. But if two processes, A and B, have occurred frequently together,
+reactivation of the trace of A is said to reactivate B in consequence
+of a curious bond between them created by those past events. This is
+the second basic factor of habit, and almost all the classical research
+on memory has dealt with the formation of that bond and its career
+in the course of time. There is almost no other phase of our science
+of which we are prouder than this, because here methods have been
+developed and laws have been found which may almost be compared with
+those of the natural sciences.
+
+In some respects this pride seems fully justified to me, though at the
+present time we have begun to realize that we have used those excellent
+methods to investigate inconsiderately a special type of memory and
+habit and that we should not apply the results obtained to everyday
+memory and habit. There is one problem, however, which was not made an
+object of those experiments because it did not seem at first to be a
+problem. Indeed, it was presupposed as a fact that the mere repetition
+of two processes, A and B, having occurred frequently together, would
+create that curious bond, the association, between them. This concept
+of association shall be discussed in the following paragraphs.
+
+The law of association just mentioned has been considered particularly
+satisfactory, due to the purely mechanical character of its content,
+which does not in the least imply mystical forces or anything else
+foreign to the ideals of natural science. I must confess, however,
+that just from the viewpoint of natural science the law of contiguity
+appears rather strange to me. A and B happen to occur together and,
+whatever the nature of A and B may be, the bond is produced between
+them! I do not know a single law or rule in physics or chemistry which
+might be compared in this respect with the concept of association. I
+repeat what was said in Chapter IV: Wherever an A and B have anything
+to do with each other in physics, the effect is found to depend upon
+the properties of A and B in their relations to each other. This is the
+case in astronomy where acceleration depends upon the masses of A and
+B. It is the case in electrostatics where the occurrence of attraction
+or repulsion depends upon the nature of electric charges. In chemistry
+we find the violent reaction or indifference of atoms determined by
+the relation of their properties in the given case. But there is not a
+single example of an effect produced by the interaction of two things
+or processes quite independently of their properties. Nevertheless this
+is the character of the classical law of association, as we find it
+stated in most textbooks.
+
+At this point we return to that trait of mosaic theory which we have
+found so characteristic of its treatment of sensory processes. If the
+distribution and direction of events in the central nervous system
+are determined dynamically by interaction in the field, they must
+depend upon “the relative properties” of those processes which exert
+influences upon each other. This is excluded in principle by the mosaic
+theory of the sensory field. Sensation processes are assumed to be
+indifferent to each other in general, so that, with regard to them,
+any pattern may exist equally well in the field. Exactly the same
+assumption of discrete bits of process, altogether indifferent to each
+other, underlies the classical concept of association for, without even
+mentioning the actual properties of A and B in their relations to each
+other, it states that _any_ A and _any_ B may acquire that neutral
+bond, if it is supposed only that they occur together a number of times.
+
+It seems to me that, even at the present time and before any
+experimental research has been specially directed upon this question,
+we may say confidently that, in this point at least, the concept of
+association is opposed to a large number of well-known facts. In order
+to corroborate this claim, we have only to gather statements scattered
+in papers, the authors of which have worked with the classical methods
+and the classical nonsense syllables, which their subjects had to
+commit to their memories.
+
+We see at once that in a series of these syllables the A and B
+(i.e., two syllables following each other) cannot remain altogether
+indifferent to each other, since by a simple experiment we can prove
+that A and B are not even indifferent to F and G and H and so forth
+(i.e., to members remote in the series). When a subject is told to
+write down six syllables which we read to him quickly, he is usually
+able to comply. But if, instead of six, we give him a series of twelve
+syllables, the result is that on the average less than six are written
+down. This argues a mutual disturbance which indicates that even
+syllables rather distant in time are not indifferent to each other.
+If after some repetitions we test the subject, giving him single
+syllables and instructing him to name the following one in each case,
+our procedure is based upon the assumption that there are a number
+of independent associations and reproductions, the results admitting
+a statistical treatment. This does not seem to be altogether correct
+insofar as it neglects a more general interdependence. It may be
+neglected whenever this interdependence is the same statistically in
+all the series and when the problems under investigation are the usual
+ones. However, as soon as the nature of association itself becomes a
+problem, we must be more careful.
+
+In a more striking manner the same warning may be deduced from what
+happens to a series of syllables during learning. The subjects read
+them in a definite and rhythmical distribution which, usually, consists
+of larger wholes, containing sub-units. At the same time the reading
+will assume the character of a melody, the pitch of the voice going
+up and down, following that grouping exactly.[54] Evidently, a process
+of organization occurs during learning and most of all during the
+first readings of the series. If that be so, the syllables ought to
+acquire a definite “flavor” which belongs to them insofar as they have
+a particular place in the larger whole. This consequence is verified
+perfectly in those cases in which, after learning a series as a whole,
+the subjects are shown the same syllables in another sequence. In the
+new order _they look or sound new or strange_. A similar implication
+is to be found in the highly important concept of “association with
+place,” which means that a syllable is learnt as having a definite
+place, not absolutely but with respect to the whole series in which
+it occurs. Objectively, the rôle of organization is most convincingly
+proved if, after learning the whole series completely so that it is
+repeated as a whole without hesitation, the subjects are shown single
+syllables in order to reproduce the following one in each case. It has
+been found by Nagel that scarcely one-third of the reproductions was
+achieved under these circumstances.[55] When given alone, a syllable is
+obviously not the same thing as it is in the stream of the organized
+series.
+
+Nonsense syllables were chosen by Ebbinghaus and his successors
+as the best material for investigating associations, because they
+wished to keep their experiments free from the older, already-formed
+associations which, if “meaningful” material were employed, would
+influence the results in an uncontrolled manner. Furthermore, nonsense
+syllables seemed to be a more uniform material than any other. It
+would be altogether unjust if we should deny the value of the great
+impulse which psychology received from that method. It seems, however,
+that the early investigators used this method in a somewhat one-sided
+manner. The most valuable observations, perhaps, were made after the
+one-sidedness of the original point of view was discovered.
+
+Some psychologists have criticized the method of Ebbinghaus in that it
+does not at all investigate automatic associations, whereas the results
+of the method are formulated as though that were the case. Indeed, if
+the mere neighborhood of the syllables is supposed to produce their
+association, most experiments using this material are far from testing
+such a pure association, since the subject does not simply receive a
+succession of syllables, but rather _is asked to learn them_. If he
+follows this instruction, some factor takes part in what is built up
+during learning, and this factor is not even mentioned when the results
+are formulated in terms of automatic associations. Undoubtedly, here
+is a flaw in the scientific procedure. The mistake is a grave one for
+it has been shown that without that factor the learning of series of
+nonsense syllables would be almost impossible.[56]
+
+But what are the subjects doing when they try to learn a series
+intentionally? No one is better authorized to give an answer to
+this question than G. E. Müller, who has spent a large part of his
+scientific life studying the rules of association and reproduction. His
+answer is: “A series of figures, consonants, syllables and so forth,
+is learned essentially by our combining the members of the series
+in an attitude of synthesis, so that they become solid groups.”[57]
+We have seen in an earlier chapter that by a corresponding attitude
+one may favor definite forms of grouping, and that the products of
+this procedure may be just as real as any spontaneous organization
+is. Following the statement of Müller, we may say, therefore, that
+intentional learning essentially means intentional organizing.
+
+Though such an attitude seems to be almost necessary in the case of
+nonsense material and, most of all, of syllables, it is not needed
+evidently where the material has other properties. Time and again we
+find ourselves reproducing events from our past experience, where
+the incentive to reproduction has certainly not been _intentionally_
+combined with what we are now able to reproduce. If that be so, we
+must draw the conclusion that the nonsense material used in classical
+investigations may be excellent in some respects from the viewpoint of
+exactness, but that it cannot teach us the whole truth about so-called
+associations. These are not formed in the same manner when, instead
+of the classical material, we have to deal with the more natural
+experiences of everyday life.
+
+If now we ask ourselves, whether _all_ our experiences outside the
+laboratory associate themselves spontaneously, so that the evocation of
+one may reproduce its neighbors, we must confess that this is not the
+case. We may hear a telephone number dozens of times together with a
+name and still remain unable to reproduce it when the name occurs later
+on. In this case conditions seem to be similar to those present in the
+case of nonsense syllables. The name and the number are as indifferent
+to each other as are those syllables usually. Thus the suspicion
+arises that we may have spontaneous association where organization
+is spontaneous, and that intentional combining is needed where the
+material in itself is but slightly organized.
+
+This assumption is corroborated by the well-known fact that meaningful
+nouns form associations much more easily than nonsense material. In
+this case, of course, the nouns appear as imbued with their meanings
+by a process of learning accomplished in our childhood. When as
+adult subjects we learn a series of nouns we find these meanings
+ready-made, and obviously now it is these _meanings_ which are so
+easily associated. But why should they be? At the present time most
+psychologists will answer that this is a consequence of their having
+been previously associated, so that the actual process of learning
+has only to strengthen some particular bond between the meanings of a
+pair of nouns which existed a long time before. But at this point the
+difference between _gestalt_ psychology and associationism becomes
+striking. Let somebody read the following pairs of nouns a few times,
+with an attentive attitude: lake-sugar, boot-plate, girl-kangaroo,
+pencil-gasoline, palace-bicycle, railroad-elephant, book-toothpaste.
+Learning will be considerably easier here than if the same number
+of nonsense syllables were given. Can one really say that between
+lake and sugar, palace and bicycle, and so forth, there are old
+associations which just need some slight exercise and which thereupon
+facilitate the learning? It seems to me that we cannot, mainly because
+the same words have occurred thousands of times in other much more
+regular connections, which ought absolutely to inhibit the _assumed_
+associations in this particular case. But there is another explanation.
+When I read those words I may imagine as a (very strange) picture, how
+a lump of sugar might dissolve in a lake, how a boot might rest on a
+plate, how a girl might feed a kangaroo, and so forth. If this happens
+during reading I shall have experienced some well organized though
+quite unusual wholes, and it may be that here learning is so easy,
+because _organizing_ is so much easier in this case than in that of
+indifferent nonsense syllables. In order to exclude the possibility
+of frequent similar combinations in the past, I have chosen strange
+pairs of nouns, the meanings of which may be organized into larger
+wholes (pictures), but do not do so quite spontaneously. It seems to
+me that those combinations and sequences which become even more easily
+associated in everyday life are simply cases of strong spontaneous
+organization.
+
+We may say, then, that in one respect nonsense syllables constitute the
+worst material which might be chosen for discovering essentially what
+association is. As they do not spontaneously form well-characterized
+organizations, the nature of spontaneous association will not become
+apparent to the psychologist who uses them. Furthermore, as the series
+of syllables are built up in a haphazard manner, one cannot even
+examine the way in which learning depends upon what may be called the
+structure of a series. Even though it be composed of nonsense material
+throughout, a series may be constructed in a great many different
+ways. Syllables may be chosen which fit together phonetically in a
+very characteristic way, or the contrary may be done. Some pairs may
+be constructed according to one principle, some according to another.
+The whole series may exhibit an extraordinarily striking principle of
+structure or it may be an indifferent series, as are the usual ones.
+All these variations of material ought to be examined in order to see
+whether or not organization is the essential fact underlying so-called
+association. From the trend of the foregoing discussion, we should be
+inclined to say that it is.
+
+As a last argument in favor of this thesis we may mention the fact
+that, sometime after learning a series of members by combining them
+into pairs, for instance, the subjects will be able to reproduce the
+second members of these pairs rather easily, if the first members are
+given them as stimuli to reproduction, whereas, on the other hand, the
+number of right reproductions will be small if we present the second
+members of pairs and ask for the following serial items which are the
+first members of the next successive pairs or groups. If we suppose
+that during learning the members of the whole series objectively formed
+a uniform sequence as to spatial and temporal intervals, this result
+makes it evident that the old rule of association is superficial
+and that the conditions of association are ambiguous as long as we
+do not take into account the organization of the material. We get
+strong association only in those parts of a series where organization
+is also strong. It is true that neighborhood or proximity in space
+and time is a factor of great importance in association. But it does
+not seem to operate directly. In an earlier chapter we saw that the
+factor of neighborhood is one of the conditions upon which depend
+grouping and the segregation of wholes. From what we have just
+stated it would follow, then, _that neighborhood in space and time
+influences association only insofar as it determines organization_.
+Since this condition is just one among a great many others determining
+organization, and since organization seems to be the really decisive
+condition of association, the rule of association has to be
+reformulated accordingly.
+
+I repeat. Where organization is naturally strong we have spontaneous
+association; where there is practically no organization association
+does not occur until some organization is created intentionally.
+Also, after being associated, the members of a series have definite
+properties which depend upon their position in the surrounding whole,
+as tones do in an organized melody. And finally, if in a series we
+determine those sequences which are the _solid_ groups in the total
+series, and if, then, we also determine where association is strongest
+we shall find that both coincide.
+
+After these preliminaries we can discuss the nature of that particular
+bond which is said to originate between the traces of two processes
+when these processes are associated. The prevailing opinion is that
+during learning the nerve fibers uniting the place of one process with
+that of the other acquire an increased conductivity, because with each
+repetition some particular current of nervous energy is assumed to pass
+from one to the other. In consequence of this change of conductivity,
+whenever the process corresponding to the first trace activates this
+trace the current spreads along those fibers to the second trace, and
+reactivates it also. With this hypothesis one may understand, perhaps,
+why after some repetitions the current should flow in that particular
+direction and thereby increase its conductivity; but we do not at all
+see why it should flow in just that direction on the _first_ occasion.
+And this is a serious difficulty, particularly in those cases where
+after one single experience we find the association well established.
+One can scarcely avoid the inference that in this case the processes
+underlying the experience _as such_ contain all that is implied in the
+concept of association, at once and originally, no special bond being
+necessary for it.
+
+We do not know what happens in reproduction. The only thing we seem
+compelled to assume is some physiological communication between the
+traces of two processes, A and B, so that an event activated in A will
+spread to B and not to other traces, with the processes of which it had
+nothing whatever to do in the past. Now, two hypotheses are possible:
+If we believe A and B to be two processes indifferent to each other,
+which accidentally occur near to each other in space and time, then
+some special bond, some change of conductivity in fibers between them
+may be needed as a basis of the association. In full contrast to this
+older view, however, we may make quite a different assumption: Whenever
+we “associate” A and B we experience them, not as two indifferent
+things, but as members of one organized group. This certainly may be
+taken for granted, after the foregoing analysis. In this case the
+process underlying the experience cannot consist of two indifferent
+parts, one belonging to A and one to B. It must be one functional
+whole in which A and B possess only a _relative_ independence. If that
+be so, there will not be two separate traces left behind after the
+process itself has faded, but _one_ trace of the functional whole,
+with the after-effects of A and B in it as local regions of that
+single trace. In this way A and B, or their after-effects, would be
+as well connected in the single trace of the whole organized process
+as they might ever be by means of the special bond which united them,
+according to the older point of view. If such a bond determined “the
+spreading of nervous activity” from A to B, the segregated trace of one
+process-in-extension might well do precisely the same. Unfortunately,
+in neither case do we know as yet what are the functional properties
+of that “spreading” and what sort of nervous communication would
+be capable of determining its course in the observed manner of
+reproduction.
+
+It will be convenient to give our assumption a somewhat radical
+formulation so that it will be easier to distinguish it from the
+usual one. From our viewpoint, association is given up as a special
+and independent theoretical concept. It is not more than a name for
+the fact that organized processes leave a trace picturing their
+organization and that in consequence of it reproductions are possible.
+I do not deny that repetition will make the association stronger, but
+as long as the process remains the same, repetition does not involve
+a change in a special bond; it means that the whole trace of the
+organized process becomes more enduring and stable. Nor shall I deny
+that sometimes, as in the case of nonsense material, some special
+attitude is needed for producing an association. But, as we have seen
+before, such an attitude consists in favoring definite organizations.
+When these are experienced, the processes corresponding to them will
+also be organized, and so will their traces. The only problem which
+is new in such a case is that of “intentional” organization. But this
+problem shall be treated quite apart from association.
+
+               *       *       *       *       *
+
+Some psychologists will be inclined to say that it does not matter very
+much whether we accept one theory of association or the other, since
+we are not able to look into the brain to decide which one is right.
+This indicates a complete misunderstanding, however, of the value of a
+hypothesis. If there is anything concrete in a hypothesis, it must be
+possible to deduce concrete consequences from it, and to examine them
+in further experimentation. It is easy enough to do that in this case.
+
+In the old rule about association nothing was said about the properties
+of the A and B which are associated because, in principle, association
+was believed to be an indifferent bond between processes indifferent
+to each other and to the bond. Organization, however, is not at all
+an aggregation of indifferent material. On the contrary, in sensory
+experience we have found organization to depend most decidedly upon
+“the relative properties” of stimulation. Therefore, if association
+is a consequence of organization, it must also depend upon the
+mutually relative properties of what is or shall be associated. In
+some degree this is verified by what we have reported above. But much
+more has to be done in the way of varying the nature of the material
+according to the principles of _gestalt_ theory, so that we may see
+more definitely whether, other circumstances remaining the same, an
+association will be the stronger, the better organized is the group
+or the whole, according to those principles. As yet we do not seem to
+have any experiments planned specially and deliberately in order to
+answer this question. As we know a great deal about the conditions
+upon which sensory organization depends, the path is laid and it will
+be the more interesting to follow in this direction since we should
+be able to deduce from all the rules known in the field of sensory
+organization, corresponding rules for association. Of course, we
+cannot hope to find all the properties of association in this manner,
+because the rules of sensory experience are in no way instructive with
+respect to the formation of _traces_ as such; nor can we from those
+rules deduce the career of a trace in the course of time, and under the
+influence of other processes and traces which develop after it in the
+same region of the nervous system. On the other hand, when once the
+identification of association with the traces of functional wholes is
+verified sufficiently, further discoveries with regard to association
+may give us hints about properties of organization itself which, for
+some reason, we may fail to detect directly in sensory experience.
+
+A second consequence of our hypothesis, which ought to be examined
+experimentally for the sake of that hypothesis, may have practical
+value as well. This consequence belongs to animal psychology. We have
+seen that nonsense syllables do not usually associate spontaneously
+because they do not form well-organized groups unless we combine
+them. In some cases series of them have been read passively hundreds
+of times without an appreciable effect in learning. But, as we have
+seen, the same subjects “have a good memory” in everyday life and
+can reproduce thousands of events which they have never intended to
+commit to their memories. This reminds one of a strange contrast
+which all animal psychologists have observed between animal learning,
+as it occurs during experimentation in the laboratory, and habit
+formation as it develops in the same animals outside the laboratory.
+I do not think that the concrete reason for this difference is
+contained in the reference to the “natural” circumstances present
+in the latter situation but not in the former. What does the term
+“natural” mean here? I suggest that it may mean “favorable” with
+respect to association in a very particular way, i.e., with respect to
+organization.
+
+Indeed, it would seem in this connection that a great many experiments,
+most of all those on sensory discrimination, proceed in the wrong
+way, because, blinded by that old concept of association as a binding
+together of two indifferent things largely by many repetitions, we do
+not take account of organization at all when we are constructing the
+experimental situation. For instance, on the rear walls of two alleys
+we fix two objects which we wish the animal to learn to discriminate.
+On the floor, in no connection whatever with those objects, we put
+the wires for punishment in the case of a wrong choice, in such a way
+that an electric shock applied at this point will be more foreign to
+the wrong object even, perhaps, than one syllable is to the next in
+experimentation on human association. On the other hand, the animal
+will be fed after a right choice somewhere behind the scene, i.e., in
+a situation just as separate from the right object as the shock is
+from the wrong one. A young behaviorist once asked me whether, apart
+from vague concepts, _gestalt_ theory had anything new and concrete
+to offer science upon which it might work. It seems to me that if we
+had nothing to give behaviorism except our criticism of this method and
+some suggestions toward a better one, it would be quite sufficient. In
+man learning seems to depend upon organization. It is highly improbable
+that the same rule should not apply to habit formation in animals.
+Therefore, when we investigate sensory discrimination in animals,
+instead of separating those “stimuli” from each other, the coöperation
+of which most probably determines learning, we ought to make that
+coöperation as easy as we can. Some years ago I proposed the following
+procedure: If the wrong object made a sudden movement against the
+animal, whenever the latter made the wrong choice, we should certainly
+have a situation much more similar to the animal’s learning in common
+life, and a more efficient one, because then the negative stimulus
+would immediately imbue itself with “negativity.”[58] It is quite
+possible that a variation of procedure in this direction would save the
+experimenter much time. In addition to this practical reason, however,
+it seems to me a sound law of experimentation that conditions should be
+varied in _all_ respects. If behaviorists are interested in finding the
+conditions and the nature of learning, they may have great success some
+day if they vary the conditions of habit formation according to the
+principles of organization.
+
+These remarks apply to the formation of so-called conditioned reflexes
+in the same way that they do to older methods used to study learning.
+From the viewpoint of machine theory it sounds a little nicer if we
+talk about conditioned reflexes instead of associations. I do not
+find, however, that the first concept is clearer than the second. One
+might even say that what we call a conditioned reflex now is just one
+special case of a certain type of association, because it is evident
+that the “stimulus,” which is to be artificially connected with a
+reflex, cannot be made to produce that reflex except by first becoming
+“connected” with an _adequate_ “stimulus” which naturally produces that
+reflex. This means an association of two sensory processes however.
+The association may become so strong that _via_ the mere trace of
+the adequate sensory process the new one will eventually arouse the
+reflex. But since that association is the thing to be “learned,”
+before a conditioned reflex can occur, and since the association
+of two processes is a direct effect of their organization into one
+whole, the same consequences have to be deduced here as in human
+association and in the old form of animal discrimination experiments.
+As yet no one seems to have examined the question whether a change
+in the presentation of the “artificial stimulus,” in its relation
+to the natural one, exerts an influence upon the building up of the
+conditioned reflex. A bell rings and food is shown or given, but
+no attention is paid to those experimental conditions upon which
+organization would depend. That is not at all astonishing since the
+old concept of “connecting two separate processes by learning” still
+prevails. On the other hand, animal psychology has an opportunity here
+to test the value of two assumptions at the same time, namely, that
+conditioning is practically the same thing as associating two sensory
+processes, and that associating depends upon organization.
+
+When seen from the viewpoint we have reached in this chapter, certain
+earlier discussions will assume a somewhat surprising aspect. Our
+conclusion is that association depends upon organization because
+association is just an after-effect of an organized process. Now, when
+we first introduced the concept of organization, we were hampered at
+every step by those empiristic hypotheses which sought to explain
+by the influence of meaning or other affiliated factors whatever
+experiences did not fit into the scheme of mosaic or machine theory.
+In many of those cases I hope that I have shown that, fundamentally,
+the experiences in question cannot be derived from previous learning
+in any form; and that, therefore, organization has to be accepted
+as an original aspect of our experiences. Now we may go further and
+make the statement that, on the contrary, wherever the influences of
+past experience can really be discovered in actual experience, this
+secondary effect itself is a consequence of past organization, because,
+generally, meaning will accompany an actual experience or be contained
+in it by a process of reproduction, and this reproduction will be based
+upon the trace of a larger organized whole. Consequently, if we try
+to reduce organization in principle to associated meanings, we must
+explain actual organization by the traces of previous organization
+in a larger area. If our theory is right, the whole procedure would
+mean a vicious circle, for organization would be the more fundamental
+functional concept, and association or meaning would be ideas
+depending upon it. So much concerning the question of principle. I
+repeat, however, that very often our actual experiences _are_ really
+and thoroughly imbued with meaning. In these cases it should be
+acknowledged as a fact that the after-effects of previous organization
+determine the properties of actual experience. We may talk about an
+association under these circumstances if we keep in mind that even here
+it is the concept of organization which remains decisive functionally.
+
+
+BIBLIOGRAPHY
+
+  M. Bentley: _The Field of Psychology_. 1924.
+
+  K. Koffka: _The Growth of the Mind_. 1924.
+
+  Michotte and van der Veldt: _L’Apprentissage du mouvement et
+  l’automatisme_. 1928.
+
+  R. M. Ogden: _Psychology and Education_. 1926.
+
+  O. Selz: _Die Gesetze des geordneten Denkverlaufs_. 1913.
+
+
+
+
+IX
+
+_Reproduction_
+
+
+PSYCHOLOGY knows three main topics which are to be investigated in
+the field of memory and habit: (1) learning and those processes the
+traces of which make reproduction and recognition possible, (2) the
+career of these traces in the time between their formation and recall,
+and (3) the processes of reproduction and recognition themselves.
+In some degree reproduction or recognition will be needed in the
+investigation of _all_ these problems, to give us evidence of either
+the laws of learning, or those of retention, or those of recall itself.
+Nevertheless, in the first case we can keep conditions constant with
+respect to retention, and also with respect to the circumstances of
+reproduction, while the conditions of learning are varied; in the
+second case, the conditions of learning and those of reproduction will
+remain constant, those of the interval between learning and recall
+being varied; and in the last case, we vary only the circumstances of
+reproduction or recognition. So we are able practically to separate
+the three classes of problems. In this chapter our attention will be
+directed mainly to questions of retention and recall, though we shall
+also have to treat one highly important feature which may as well be
+regarded as belonging to the topic of learning and the formation of
+traces.
+
+In the sixth chapter I mentioned certain experiments in which, after
+learning to choose one side of a pair, for instance the darker of two
+grays, animals had to react to a new pair, consisting of the “right”
+object of the learning period and a new object, which had more or less
+the same relation to the “right” object as this had had to the “wrong”
+object during learning. The result was that in the majority of the
+trials the animals chose that side which, in the new pair, played the
+same rôle which the right object had played during learning. This means
+that they chose the _new_ object which, in our example, was now “the
+dark side of the pair.”
+
+This result is not quite general, however. It depends upon what
+interval of time elapses between the training with the old pair and
+the first trials with the new one. Occasionally, after the learning
+period, a chick was given the new pair in between choices on the old
+one; and this procedure was repeated until the single trials with the
+new pair, each of them distributed between trials with the old one,
+could be regarded as numerous enough. It was found that, under these
+circumstances, the animal chose the “right” object of the learning
+period quite as often as the new object, which would now be the right
+side _in the pair_. Obviously, this must be explained in the following
+manner: When the chick reacts to the group before him, the chick
+sees[59] it as a pair in which either gray plays a definite rôle as
+the dark or the bright side of it; but at the same time the first is
+seen as a more or less definite dark gray and the second as a bright
+one. Both ways of seeing them are altogether compatible with each other
+as long as the pair is not “transposed.” If during learning the chick
+reacts to the right object as one side of the pair and also as a more
+or less definite gray, there must be two products of training which
+will become opposed to each other as soon as we introduce the new pair,
+because now the first product of learning will favor the choice of one
+object, and the second the choice of the other. Let us suppose, now,
+that these different effects of learning do not fade equally fast with
+time; an increase of the interval between trials with the old pair
+and trials with the new one will favor those reactions which depend
+upon the more enduring product of training. From our experiment it
+follows, then, that the habit depending upon the pair as a whole is
+more enduring than the habit depending upon the nuance _as such_, since
+the pair as a whole is relatively less decisive when the animal reacts
+to the new pair immediately after some trials with the old one. But the
+two habits are alike with the exception only that one of them depends
+upon the _organization_ of a trace whereas the other depends upon the
+trace of a certain nuance of brightness. Hence, in the course of time,
+the traces of organization remain much more stable than do the traces
+of a more or less definite gray. This may be a more general fact. It
+has been remarked by several psychologists that we are frequently able
+to remember the general structure of something at a time when we cannot
+get the more particular content of it at all. It would be worth while
+to test this statement by appropriate experimentation, particularly
+since we might get some insight thereby into the nature of so-called
+“concepts.” In the case of the chick it was very easy to examine the
+hypothesis by having the same animal react to the new pair once more,
+after some minutes had elapsed since his last trials with the old one.
+The result was that the “relative” reactions predominated.
+
+There is much to discover in this field. At the beginning of the
+last chapter we noticed one way of studying the career of traces by
+investigating successive comparison. Here we have a second way. A
+third one, somewhat similar to the second, is also to be found in
+certain observations on animals. I shall treat it as an example of
+what new problems _gestalt_ psychology raises in a concrete case. When
+Yarbrough[60] investigated delayed reaction in cats he found them
+able to react correctly after no more than four seconds if they had to
+choose between three objects, whereas in the case of two objects the
+delay could be increased to more than four times that amount. Why is
+the result so much greater in the second case? An explanation may be
+derived from the examination of a human subject in a similar, though
+more difficult, task. If I have 25 objects, all of which have the same
+properties, before me in a semicircle, they play very different rôles
+in the semicircle as a whole; the rôle of two of them is particularly
+well defined and characteristic, namely, that of the first to the left
+and that of the first to the right side, which are the “ends” of the
+whole; in some degree, but much less, a third one will be characterized
+as a special member of the group, i.e., the central one. The rest will
+be more or less like an indifferent filling. Suppose now that the
+experimenter points to one of the objects, and that, after a delay in
+which I do not fixate that object carefully, I am told to go toward it;
+my reaction will always be correct if one of those three objects had
+been pointed to. However, as long as I do not mark the right object
+in an indirect way by counting at the first presentation, in order to
+find it again by counting after the delay, wrong reactions will occur
+rather often when the designated object has an indifferent position.
+Thus I may choose the sixteenth instead of the seventeenth, or the
+eighth instead of the ninth, rather easily, and, if the delay is
+increased or my attitude is slightly dreamy at the first presentation,
+such errors may become rather frequent. Of course, this is the same
+dependence of delayed reaction upon the more or less specific position
+of a member in a group, which was demonstrated by Hertz in certain
+birds (cf. pp. 158-162), so that we may apply the same idea to the
+case of a cat which must choose between three objects after a delay.
+If the cue which the cat has acquired before the delay refers to the
+first object (for instance, at the left), the cue will be connected
+with a very definite place in the whole group; and the same will be
+true if the third object (the first to the right) becomes connected
+with the cue. If, however, the second object is connected with the cue
+before the delay, this cue will refer to a place which, for the cat,
+is much less definitely characterized in the group. At the time when
+that object is marked out (by a light, for instance) among the others,
+its rôle in the whole may be sufficiently clear for some moments;
+but chances are that after some time the cue will lose its rather
+unstable localization, the whole becoming just an undifferentiated
+stretch, only the ends of which remain well-characterized places.
+Consequently, the animal will react correctly less often when, instead
+of two objects, the experiment is made with three. The cat might begin
+to react more correctly again, perhaps, if the experimenter gave the
+three objects another distribution in space so that all of them
+would have well-characterized locations. The reader will be inclined
+to say that such an explanation appears somewhat artificial to him,
+since, with three objects, the probability of error is increased
+anyhow and the cue cannot be fixed so easily in a more complicated
+situation. This objection should be examined by introducing that
+change of conditions to which I have just alluded. From the viewpoint
+of organization, “complication” is not simply a matter of number, but
+also of distribution in space. If, therefore, the three objects are
+distributed in a way which characterizes each one equally well, we may
+be able to decide whether or not we should accept the explanation in
+terms of mere increase of number. There is one result in Yarbrough’s
+experiments which makes me more inclined toward the other hypothesis:
+If mere number, as against lack of definite rôle in the group, were
+the decisive condition producing failure, the false reactions of the
+animals should be distributed in a haphazard manner among the three
+objects. But this is not the case. After a long delay (beyond 4
+seconds) _some of the cats did not go to the second object at all_. All
+their reactions were directed toward the first or the third object!
+This is just what we should expect in terms of our explanation, whereas
+one cannot understand it at all without taking account of organization.
+We may say, then, with some confidence that in cats the traces of past
+events undergo a rapid transformation which destroys the minor or less
+stable characteristics of groups as wholes, so that subsequent behavior
+depends upon a more simplified organization than existed in the traces
+at first.
+
+A somewhat similar observation was made by Mr. Tinklepaugh and me when,
+using another method, we performed some experiments on delayed reaction
+with a monkey. A very large square on the ground was covered with sand
+some inches high. Before the animal certain marks were made on the
+sand, as, for instance, a hill of the same material or, in another
+experiment, a straight line which we drew on the surface with a finger.
+After this preparation, food was buried in the sand in a place which,
+for the human subject, was characterized at once as having a rather
+definite position _near_ the mark. We wished to see whether the animal
+would use the mark in fixing the place of the food because, without a
+mark in the homogeneous sand, his previous reactions to buried food had
+not been very clear. The monkey who had observed those preparations
+was not released from his place until some time had elapsed. When
+allowed to approach the sand he would go _to the mark_ at once and
+search for the food _in it_. As far as I can remember now, he never
+searched _near_, i.e., around the mark. Though further observations
+would be desirable, one explanation seems probable at once: As in the
+last case where delayed reaction was investigated in cats, the reaction
+of the animal depends upon a trace and upon the actual organization
+of the field. This field is well organized, the hill or the line
+forming an outstanding feature in it. The localization of the place
+of the hidden food, however, is much less definite. Therefore, we may
+assume that a simplification occurs in this case similar to the one
+which determines the reactions of the cats in Yarbrough’s experiments
+with three objects. The trace which remains in the monkey will be
+transformed during the delay to the disadvantage of its less defined
+regions and the result will be that the monkey’s cue is absorbed by the
+outstanding mark just as, after some delay, the cats react only to the
+well-characterized parts of the situation. It may be that the method
+used by us in this preliminary way will be developed some day into a
+more accurate instrument for investigating the career of traces in
+animals.[61]
+
+Traces are not rigid, then; there are definite dynamical tendencies in
+them; and in animals the traces may be transformed more easily than
+in man. That being the case, the study of delayed reaction in animals
+becomes highly important for general psychology because it may show
+us the working of those tendencies in a measure which could not be
+observed in man.
+
+There can be no doubt that, in principle, we find similar changes in
+man also. Koffka and Wulf[62] have observed these changes by making
+their subjects draw figures which they had seen previously for a few
+seconds, first after a delay of some minutes and then after days or
+even weeks. The figures had not simply lost details at the time of
+graphic reproduction. The changes were much more interesting since they
+showed two opposite directions: In reproduction the figures were either
+more regular than the original ones or some traits which might be taken
+as characteristic of their organization were considerably exaggerated
+in the drawings. The authors give the explanation that, during the
+first presentation, the figures could be seen in somewhat different
+kinds of organization. If this organization was a rather simple and
+regular form, the change of the trace would be in the direction of
+increased regularity; if, however, some articulation, irregularity or
+lack of symmetry was seen as the main characteristic of the figure,
+the transformation would enhance this property. Therefore, in both
+cases the change seemed to produce an approach toward something like an
+extreme type or the ideal of the first organization.
+
+In all these cases behavior depending upon the actual properties of
+the traces is used as an indicator of their changes. Still there
+are other cases where the traces can be shown to be practically
+unchanged, although reproduction is difficult or even impossible under
+the circumstances in question. In the last chapter we mentioned some
+examples of this kind. Now we have to treat others which will show us
+that the possibilities of reproduction are much more restricted than
+one might expect.
+
+If association as a basis for reproduction is just another expression
+of the fact that the traces of functional wholes are themselves
+detached wholes, one might somewhat rashly deduce from this theory
+that, after a trace is formed, any group of stimuli which represents
+a considerable fraction of the original constellation of stimuli
+will reproduce those parts of the original process the stimuli for
+which are not actually given. However, this would mean a complete
+misunderstanding of _gestalt_ theory, because from what we have seen
+in the sixth chapter, it follows that between the properties of an
+organized whole and the actual constellation of stimuli, let us say
+on the retina, there does not exist a correspondence as to parts, as
+though one region of the organized whole separately depended upon some
+definite fraction of that constellation, a second one upon another and
+so forth. On the contrary, upon a large group of stimuli and their
+“relative properties” depends the organized process as a whole in a
+manner which cannot be analyzed into independent local or partial
+effects of stimulation. Therefore, in general, if an organized process
+has left its trace in the nervous system, some fraction of the original
+group of stimuli will not determine a partial process which occurred
+in that functional whole, but something different and new, a picture
+of which is not contained in the trace of that whole. Consequently
+this new process will not be able to reproduce anything on the basis
+of that trace; just as some other group of stimuli which we might
+choose in an altogether arbitrary manner would determine a new process
+and consequently would be foreign to that trace. For instance, Fig.
+20 will not reproduce the missing lines of an H normally, though,
+geometrically, that figure is the larger part of an H. Neither will
+Fig. 21 reproduce the missing lines of an R, and so forth, because,
+when we have seen an H or an R, we have never had the given figures
+as real experiences. There is nothing in the traces of an H and an
+R, which might correspond to the processes of Figs. 20 and 21, and
+reproduction does not occur. We shall conclude, then, that reproduction
+will be restricted to those cases where the process intended as the
+excitant of reproduction is sufficiently similar to a partial process
+of the original whole. This will be the case if the process intended
+as an excitant corresponds to a natural member or sub-whole of the
+original organization, because under these circumstances the trace
+of that sub-whole, though not identical with the exciting process,
+will be similar to it, at least. If this similarity is marked enough,
+reproduction will occur under favorable conditions. So U. S. will
+reproduce an A. rather easily, and the stars the rest of the American
+flag, because here we give as an excitant what was present in the
+original organization as a _relatively_ independent region. This is
+the chief requirement. If we draw a profile from the nose downwards
+to the chin, this line does not correspond to a complete sub-whole of
+a face. Nevertheless, since the influences exerted upon that outline
+by the organization of a complete profile are not so very strong, the
+process determined by that line will be sufficiently similar to the
+corresponding process in the whole profile and to the corresponding
+trace, so that reproduction can occur.
+
+[Illustration: Fig. 20]
+
+[Illustration: Fig. 21]
+
+Even so, we find reproduction much more difficult than is supposed in
+current empiristic theories. It seems to be restricted to a rather
+narrow path between a Scylla and a Charybdis. Association is necessary
+for reproduction, and association means a sufficient degree of
+organization. Reproduction, however, presupposes a certain degree of
+similarity between an actual process as an excitant and some region
+of the organized trace. The more a region is absorbed by a larger
+organization, the less will corresponding stimulation be able to effect
+reproduction. We have already described the narrow path that any
+possible reproduction must take between these limiting conditions.
+
+To demonstrate the foregoing contentions I made the following
+experiment: The subjects are shown simultaneously pairs of figures
+for a short time. After a while parts of those drawings are presented
+to them with the instruction to reproduce the missing lines. Now, in
+a case like that of Fig. 22, for instance, either the vertical at
+the left was presented or Fig. 23, which represents _geometrically
+a_ much larger part of the original. With the first as an excitant,
+however, we get many more correct reproductions than with the second.
+Of course! The “larger part” is something which in the first exposure
+did not occur as a real form. Even the first vertical to the left has
+now lost its reproducing power, because in the original pair it had
+been segregated as something apart, whereas now it has become the left
+limiting end of a regular series of parallels.
+
+[Illustration: Fig. 22]
+
+[Illustration: Fig. 23]
+
+If this last point proves that a trace does not respond by reproduction
+if the organization of the excitant becomes foreign by being embedded
+in a somewhat different environment, reproduction will be even much
+more restricted than we should have previously supposed. Evidently,
+in problems of memory and habit, not only the organization given at
+the time of first “association” will be decisive for reproduction,
+but organization existing in the _actual_ field will be equally
+important in determining or preventing reproduction. When given in a
+certain environment a certain process may be an excellent incentive
+to reproduction on the basis of some trace existing in the nervous
+system. But it will not occur regularly again in just that environment
+which was given when the trace was formed. Hence the chances are that,
+quite apart from the rather crude obstacles considered above, even a
+slight change of the surrounding field may make an excitant unable to
+reproduce what has been “well connected” with it in the past. That
+this is true can be deduced from Nagel’s experiments (cf. above p.
+283). In a well-learned series of nonsense syllables each member,
+though embedded in the whole series, would certainly seem to be a
+thing by itself. But if one of them is given alone as an incentive to
+reproduction, this change of environment is sufficient in the majority
+of cases to make reproduction impossible.
+
+The same influence of actual organization upon reproduction has
+been demonstrated in a rather surprising form by Shepard and
+Fogelsonger.[63] These psychologists made their subjects learn pairs of
+syllables. Some of these pairs had identical second members. (Between
+the first occurrence of such a syllable and its repetition in another
+pair there was an interval of 25 minutes.) At the time of testing the
+product of learning, the first syllable of a pair was given as the
+excitant of reproduction; but where two syllables had been followed by
+the same second member at different times, both were given together
+as incentives to reproduction of their common partner. If it were not
+for organization one should expect that, both excitants working in the
+same direction, the syllable associated with them would be more easily
+reproduced than a syllable for which there was only one excitant.
+But the contrary was observed; it seemed as though some inhibition
+were in the way of reproduction when it was aroused by two excitants.
+The disturbance was particularly striking when both syllables were
+presented simultaneously, but it also existed when they were given in
+rapid succession. The explanation seems to be that during learning
+the subjects had always had a single first syllable together with its
+partner, and that when, in the critical cases of reproduction, two
+syllables appeared before them, both would look so foreign at first
+in this new grouping that neither could immediately reproduce the
+common partner. This explanation has been confirmed by observation. The
+subjects reported that reproduction became possible through an attitude
+of analysis which would sufficiently isolate one of the syllables.
+Furthermore, from this explanation it follows that any extraneous
+syllable, one which never appeared in the learning series, would have
+the same effect when presented together with the first member of a
+learned pair. The authors have found this to be the case, in fact. Thus
+the explanation seems to be quite verified. Our conclusion is that even
+a very slight alteration of circumstances, if only it influences the
+organization of the excitants, or incentives, will make reproduction
+difficult or impossible.
+
+A similar result was obtained by Frings in his work on inhibitions,[64]
+though his problem refers to learning more than to reproduction. In
+the classical experiments it had been shown that, if a syllable A
+has become associated with a syllable B, the same A can not be as
+easily associated with a third syllable C as could any indifferent
+syllable. Also, after A has become associated with C as well as with
+B, when A is used as an excitant of reproduction, the competition of
+the two different tendencies to reproduction will have an inhibiting
+effect. Frings was able to show that under certain circumstances these
+inhibitions may completely disappear. His subjects were made to learn
+series of syllables, the instruction being that the syllables should
+be read and memorized as groups of the anapest rhythm in which, after
+two less accentuated members, the third one follows with the main
+accent. In such a group the first two members will form a sub-whole.
+When after a while the product of learning is tested, these two members
+are given as an excitant, and the last one is to be reproduced. If
+now, in a given case, a group like (ac)d occurs in one series and a
+group like (bc)e in another series, we should expect the association
+between c and e to be inhibited, because c was first followed by d,
+and later followed by e. Similarly, _after_ associating (bc)e as
+well as (ac)d, in spite of that inhibition, the subjects should have
+difficulty in reproducing e, if bc is given, or d, if ac is given. From
+the viewpoint of organization, however, we must realize that in (ac)d
+the syllable c is a member of the sub-whole (ac), whereas in (bc)e it
+is a member in a different sub-whole (bc), and that therefore c is
+not quite the same thing in both cases. We might also say that in the
+first case not c, but rather the sub-whole (ac), has been associated
+with d; and again that in the other case (bc), not c, becomes or has
+become associated with e. Considering this, we should predict that
+there will be inhibition neither in learning nor in reproduction.
+Experimentation has confirmed this view. Wherever c figured as a member
+of two different sub-wholes, no inhibition occurred. It is particularly
+interesting, however, that inhibition occurred immediately if a subject
+had been very fatigued at the time of learning, and therefore had not
+been able to grasp the syllables in rhythmic complexes, according to
+the instructions.
+
+Though the reader will have already noticed that, in consequence of
+varying organization, experimental findings may differ considerably
+from what ought to occur according to the classical laws of association
+and reproduction, the most radical restriction of these rules remains
+to be considered. We cannot proceed, however, without first discussing
+a certain more general topic.
+
+               *       *       *       *       *
+
+In one of the preceding chapters we laid some stress on the point
+that our “self” occurs as an experienced whole in the same field
+which contains our experiences of surrounding objects and events.
+Consequently, that field of our brain, as a physical system which is
+the locus of the processes underlying objective experience, will also
+contain processes corresponding to the experience of the “self.” In
+many respects, the processes belonging to this particular whole are
+different from those corresponding to “outside” experiences, though,
+with regard to dynamical interrelation, the processes corresponding to
+the “self” prove to be true members of the total field. Two examples
+will suffice to corroborate this point.
+
+If a certain thing moves objectively in the visual field, I shall,
+under the usual conditions, see that thing as moving. But we know
+many instances in which, _objectively_, one thing being in motion and
+another at rest, the first remains at rest while the second moves.
+This is not an “accidental illusion,” moreover. It depends upon
+definite circumstances and necessarily prevails whenever these are
+present. Every one has occasionally seen the moon in rapid motion
+when clouds were passing it in the opposite direction. When a point
+on the window of a moving railroad carriage is fixated, the objects
+outside at once begin to glide in the opposite direction. We may say,
+then, that any change of spatial relations in a part of the field
+may have dynamical effects upon those parts of the whole field which
+objectively are not moved. With regard to the spatial relation of the
+“external” environment and the “self,” precisely the same observation
+is frequently made, as we all know. If our environment is, objectively,
+turned around us with appropriate speed, the result in experience will
+be that we feel ourselves turning around in the opposite direction.
+Michotte and Gatti have recently shown that the same effect may be
+produced by moving two handles toward one side, the subject’s hands
+being turned passively with the handles: once more the body (as an
+experience) seems to turn in the opposite direction. We may draw the
+conclusion that under adequate conditions a change of spatial relations
+between the processes underlying our objective experience and those
+corresponding to the experience of our own self, will have dynamical
+effects upon the latter processes, just as the processes corresponding
+to the experience of moving clouds exert a dynamical influence upon the
+processes underlying our experience of the moon. It becomes obvious,
+therefore, that we must include the self in the dynamical interrelation
+of the whole field.
+
+As a second example, I refer to the fact that just as things or spots
+frequently appear before me as grouped in a definite manner, the self
+is very often experienced as a member of such a group. Of course, if I
+put my hands on a desk before me and another person does the same on
+the opposite side of the desk, I have two pairs of hands before me as
+visual groups. But the whole self may enter a group just as easily: If
+somebody accompanies me along a street and, ahead of _us_ another pair
+is walking, I feel (and partially see) myself as a member of one of two
+groups.
+
+Until now the reader may have restricted the concept of organization
+more or less to the region of external experiences. From the last
+examples it seems to follow that organization is an affair involving
+the whole field and that the “self” is included as the most
+interesting member of this larger organization. At first one may feel
+opposed to this treatment of the “self” because, in a great many
+respects, it remains something particular and apart. During all the
+radical changes which the outside field undergoes in the course of time
+the “self” under normal conditions does not lose its identity. At the
+same time, and notwithstanding that identity, inner experiences will
+generally be felt as much more lively and dynamical than the average
+objective experiences. Although these differences may exert an enormous
+influence upon the actual organization of the whole field, nevertheless
+they do not place the self beyond organization _as such_. Sometimes
+they confer upon the self a central position in the field. But for a
+great many persons not even this is permanently the case, especially
+since objective experience contains other _persons_ in social life, who
+may occasionally become the center of our total field instead of the
+“self.”
+
+With this remark, however, we have gone far beyond the discussions
+of the previous chapters. We have enlarged our view of dynamics as
+determining the field and its changes.
+
+In objective experience grouping may be “static” as, for instance,
+in the case of indifferent patches, a group of which would seem to
+correspond to a state of equilibrium in the nervous system. On the
+other hand, we have seen that nothing is more likely to determine
+grouping and organization in general than the direction of attitude
+and of visible behavior. Even a behaviorist like Watson describes the
+behavior of a child as being directed to or away from an object. In
+some situations a barking dog will be experienced by any observer as
+barking _at_ something definite in his surroundings. If, therefore,
+we apply the term “dynamical” here in a more special meaning, we may
+say, perhaps, that the most compulsory organization which can occur in
+experience is a dynamical event or attitude, consisting of one member
+from which it issues, and another one toward which it is directed.
+Sometimes, as in the case of “avoiding” or “yielding,” it would be a
+better description to say that one member exhibits an attitude directed
+_away_ from the second member of such a whole. In both cases the type
+of organization remains the same, the main feature being the bipolar
+structure and the dynamical directedness of the whole.
+
+This type of dynamical structure occurs not only in merely objective
+experience but also between the experienced self and parts of the
+experienced environment. We may even say that, apart from drowsiness
+and similar states of low vitality, the organization of the total field
+will almost always have just that bipolar character, the self being
+directed to something else or away from it. The reader will remember
+our discussion of visual organization. Some diagrams were presented
+as examples of it. Organization was considered as a property of the
+visual field. This account, however, was not a complete description of
+the total field, since it included neither the self as a member of the
+field nor that particular attitude of so-called attention or interest
+which, as it were, was a direction in the field from the self to the
+diagrams. All psychologists know that, normally, this direction will
+coincide with that of fixation. It becomes particularly striking,
+however, if, while fixating a given point, we “direct ourselves”
+successively toward the other objects to be seen in the vicinity of
+that point.
+
+Obviously, bipolar organization varies in more respects than in
+direction and in the type of external object. All the nuances of
+emotional attitude toward objects and events are phases of it. When
+we like or dislike, when we hate or admire something, that bipolarity
+_as such_ remains the same. Sometimes, the direction is opposite: an
+explosion occurs in our neighborhood and we feel ourself frightened
+away; when confronted with a particularly imposing or overbearing man,
+we may also feel thrown back.
+
+Bipolar organization reminds one of those cases in physics in which
+either lines of force, or a process with a definite direction, develops
+between two parts of a field, depending upon the actual properties of
+those parts in their relation to each other. In _gestalt_ theory the
+varieties of directed attitude are not considered as the operation of
+preëxisting drives or instincts, but rather as the effects of actual
+situations. In this connection, however, the term “situation” has to be
+used with some care. Evidently it is not only the external situation
+which in a great many cases has to be considered, but the internal
+situation of the organism as well. This is so well known through recent
+studies on hunger, sexual behavior, and so forth, that I scarcely need
+mention the fact. Even after the adult has developed well-established
+preferences and forms of conduct in relation to these internal forces
+the corresponding attitudes will not appear unless the inner situation
+of the organism requires it. This does not mean that the intensity of
+those forces is independent of the external situation. But we may say,
+at least, that without any appropriate objects the internal situation
+will often produce very strong effects corresponding to it, whereas, on
+the other hand, when complete “saturation” is reached, even the most
+adequate object will not produce a corresponding attitude.
+
+If we compare bipolar organization with a field of force or a stress
+existing between regions of different potential, these words may
+contain more than a superficial analogy. What we experience as our
+“self” depends first of all upon the inner situation of our organism
+as a physiological system. We may also say that the particular
+processes underlying the experience of our “self” are determined by
+the ever-changing activities of the organism. Perhaps it is not too
+bold an hypothesis to suggest that, according to the actual nature of
+those processes, in the first place, and the properties of processes
+underlying objective experience, in the second place, something like
+a field of force or stress originates between them. Since, in terms
+of our general principle, the organization of experience is a picture
+of underlying physiological organization, we can hardly find a more
+fitting assumption. In some cases, however, the directed attitude of
+the self toward external experience does not seem to depend upon the
+inner situation of the organism, as much as it does in the case of
+hunger and sex. After being alone for some weeks most persons will
+feel an all but insuperable “drive” toward social contact, even with
+strangers. It is difficult to understand, at the present time, how this
+directed attitude should depend upon the physiological situation of the
+organism as, for instance, hunger depends upon it. Nevertheless, for
+the most part, this attitude is quite similar to the need for food,
+and I do not hesitate to interpret it as a stress in the field between
+the self and those particular surrounding processes which are the
+physiological correlate of our experience of other persons.
+
+The play of all these stresses, their origins, the strain exerted by
+them upon different parts of the total field, the changes which may
+be the consequence of that strain, and the cessation of stresses and
+strains which follows certain of those changes--this is the major
+study of psychology, as it is the major content of our life.[65] As
+yet experimental psychology has little information for us on this
+theme, and in these chapters we have not given it its due place,
+either. The reason for this neglect is my wish to introduce the concept
+of dynamical organization by applying it to simpler problems. Since
+we have become acquainted with the concept in the realm of sensory
+experience we may now extend its use to the total field--and even
+beyond it. It is expedient, however, to return to sensory organization
+time and again so that a feeling of continuity and scientific prudence
+may accompany us on our way.
+
+For instance, if the reader should feel a break between what has been
+discussed in previous chapters and our present statements, let him
+consider the following point with me. In the sensory field segregation
+and grouping have been regarded as products of dynamical intercourse.
+If directed attitude, as occurring between the self and the
+environment, is to be regarded as belonging to the same general class
+of physiological dynamics, we can expect it to have similar effects.
+This is the case, indeed, for, in the total field including the self,
+we find grouping dependent upon those directed attitudes. If in
+discussion two scientists argue against a third one, the field of each
+of them is organized according to this particular social situation
+and the direction of attitudes in it. They are not simply “three” men;
+they are a group of two, with one man external to, or rather opposed
+to, it. At the same time another grouping might be more natural from
+the viewpoint of purely _visual_ organization, because, spatially, the
+third man may be nearer to one of his opponents than this opponent
+is to the second opponent. Nevertheless, if in the middle of the
+discussion one of the three happened to perceive this other, visual
+grouping, for some reason, he would realize that what he had previously
+experienced as the organization of his field was quite as real as now
+the new grouping is. Grouping based upon social forces is much more
+interesting than purely visual organization, however, because their
+members experience definitely directed attitudes which do not generally
+appear in the same lively manner when a number of things are seen as
+two groups solely for optical reasons. The reader will easily find
+similar examples in his daily life. Four people sitting symmetrically
+at a desk may experience themselves in several kinds of grouping. When
+they are playing bridge, however, two groups, consisting of two members
+sitting opposite in space, will immediately originate in the field of
+each of the four. A great many problems of social psychology, some of
+them much more important and serious than these, will acquire a new
+aspect as soon as we consider them in such a concrete manner. For the
+present our examples must suffice as a demonstration of the fact that
+directed attitudes influence organization and grouping quite as much as
+visual factors do. Therefore we are justified in applying the concept
+of organization to the total field including the self and the stresses
+occurring between it and its environment.
+
+               *       *       *       *       *
+
+With the concept of the total field in mind we return to the discussion
+of association and reproduction.
+
+First of all, we realize that it is incorrect to treat the problems
+of learning and memory as though they referred only to sensory
+experience. What is called an “association” has been found to be the
+trace of organized processes. If now we see that in the total field,
+including the self and its attitudes, we have as much organization
+as in mere sensory experience, one consequence will be that all the
+actual total fields which occur in the course of a lifetime may leave
+organized traces. Obviously we can remember our attitudes as well as
+those experiences toward which they were directed; and reproduction may
+proceed from an attitude toward its object, or vice versa, just as one
+objective experience may remind us of another.
+
+But something more important seems to follow from our concept of the
+total field. The following experience is common: I have a task which,
+perhaps, I do not like, but which is urgent. In the course of the
+day I find myself occupied by a great many other things. I talk with
+friends, read a book, and so forth. But time and again something like
+a dark pressure appears somewhere in the field and, if I examine it,
+it will be found to issue from that task. Here we have a persistent
+tendency toward reproduction, or reappearance in the actual field,
+and this perseveration seems to depend upon the particular nature of
+the trace in question. It is in connection with this experience that
+we can understand certain important experiments made by Lewin and
+Zeigarnik.[66]
+
+The subject is given a number of little tasks, one after the other,
+as, for instance, to copy some lines from a book; to continue an
+ornament, the principle of which is given in a sample; to solve a
+simple mathematical problem; to find twelve towns, the names of which
+begin with the letter L; and so forth. In some cases the subject is
+allowed to finish his work, in others the experimenter interrupts him
+before he has fully accomplished it. After a series of twenty-two
+tasks, one-half of which is finished, the subject is asked what tasks
+were given to him. In most cases the report is very characteristic. The
+first tasks which the subject recalls are those which were interrupted,
+and the total number of this class which is recalled is much larger
+than that of the other. When 32 subjects were examined in this way, 26
+recalled more interrupted tasks than finished ones; in 16 subjects
+the superiority of the former was more than 60 per cent., and in the
+average of all subjects the superiority was 90 per cent.[67] Care
+was taken to eliminate the influence of particular properties of the
+different tasks; all tasks were interrupted exactly as often as they
+were finished in the case of different subjects. Of 22 tasks, 17 were
+more frequently recalled after interruption than after completion. When
+the same experiment was repeated with 47 students, the superiority of
+recall for interrupted work was again 90 per cent., in the average; in
+a third experiment with 45 children, it was 110 per cent.
+
+The most plausible explanation points to the fact that, when solving
+a task, the subject is in a state of stress which usually will
+not disappear until the solution is accomplished. If the work is
+interrupted before the solution, the trace of this situation contains
+that stress. Moreover, just as during the work the stress may be
+considered as the force which keeps the work going, it seems to have a
+somewhat similar tendency in the trace. Since recall would be the first
+step toward finishing the task, we cannot be surprised by the result
+of this interesting investigation.[68] If this explanation is correct,
+several consequences may be deduced from it. I shall not mention
+more than one. Under normal conditions we do not expect the stress in
+a trace to be preserved indefinitely. It is altogether more probable
+that it should disappear with time. Indeed, when recall was examined
+after a delay of 24 hours, the superiority of the interrupted tasks had
+considerably decreased.
+
+The experiments of Lewin and Zeigarnik refer to recall as depending
+upon the properties of the original situation. A much more difficult
+problem which we have to discuss is concerned with how far reproduction
+depends upon the actual total field in which something might operate
+as an excitant of reproduction. In this connection, almost all
+experiments on memory should be subjected to serious criticism. Just
+as we are not investigating automatic associations in experiments in
+which our subjects are instructed to _learn_ nonsense material, we
+are not examining spontaneous reproduction in experiments in which we
+give our subjects one nonsense syllable out of the learned series,
+and then ask them to reproduce the next one. In this case, again, the
+procedure does not fit the meaning of the rule of association and
+reproduction. Were we to follow this rule more accurately, we should
+give the first syllable unexpectedly in some situation and wait for
+an automatic reproduction of the second. The usual experiment differs
+absolutely from such a procedure for obvious reasons. If a subject can
+be directed in several ways toward a part of his actual field, he can
+also assume very definite attitudes toward something which lies beyond
+that field, and primarily toward something in the past. We know this
+attitude very well from instances in which we try to remember the name
+of an author or of a place. We are certain that such an attitude has an
+influence upon reproduction. But although the law of association does
+not mention this condition, the classical investigation of that law
+quite generally and rather innocently introduces precisely this special
+condition. Therefore we are not justified in applying the results of
+that experimental work either to the concept of automatic recall or to
+reproduction as it may occur spontaneously under other conditions in
+the total field.
+
+Some time ago almost all psychologists would have said that automatic
+reproduction in consequence of previous association is the prime
+motor of mental life and of behavior. Here caution seems to be highly
+advisable. As yet experimental evidence is strictly opposed to such
+a view, since it shows that reproduction will not occur unless very
+special conditions are fulfilled. The most important work in this field
+has been done by Lewin.[69] Among his experiments there is one in which
+the problem is examined directly. He made his subjects learn pairs
+of syllables either in the usual manner or by some new procedure,
+which I shall not describe here. After a large number of repetitions,
+distributed over several days, the subject was given single syllables
+with the instruction to read them and then to wait passively. If under
+these circumstances some of the learned syllables are presented among
+others, one should expect the second members of the learned pairs to
+be reproduced automatically. In general, however, this was not the
+case. Even when the instruction was changed to “Tell me the first thing
+occurring to you after reading each syllable!”, the result remained
+negative, with a few exceptions. It is interesting to examine those
+cases where the reproduction of the associated syllable did occur.
+Obviously the subject’s attitude is not well defined by the instruction
+to wait passively. After some “waiting” a particular attitude will
+almost always be assumed unintentionally. If a syllable appears as a
+familiar one to the subject, for instance, his attitude may become one
+of identifying and examining the learned material. However, as soon as
+he begins to be directed to the old context, in consequence of this
+attitude, reproduction will occur. Of course, such reproduction cannot
+be called automatic, since it depends upon a special attitude of the
+subject.
+
+It does not suffice as a basis for reproduction for the subject to
+be directed _somehow_ to the presented syllable itself. In these
+experiments he had to be directed to it as _to a member of a known
+pair or series_; otherwise, there was no reproduction. In everyday life
+we may observe the same fact whenever we like. Certainly, well-known
+objects are sufficiently associated with their names. Nevertheless when
+we walk along a street, we are successively directed to a great many
+things. But we are far from reproducing their names. If you say that
+objects are associated with a great many things besides their names,
+and that these diverse associations inhibit each other, you admit
+by this very argument that almost no associations lead normally to
+appropriate reproductions. When will they do so? If, as a psychologist,
+you have just stated that you did not reproduce the names of the car,
+the tower, the door, the window when you noticed them, in keeping with
+your normal attitude in walking along the street, this statement itself
+will very probably change your attitude. During the next minute you
+will probably assume the attitude of naming, and whatever you look at
+will at once reproduce its name. Therefore, the mutual inhibition of
+several associations does not seem to be the main factor that prevents
+reproduction. As soon as your attitude coincides with the direction
+of existing associations, reproduction occurs at once and without any
+appreciable effect of inhibition.
+
+It may be a wholesome occupation for a psychologist to make more
+observations along this line. If he does, it will seem altogether
+strange to him that our science should have regarded automatic
+reproduction as the main motor of mental life and behavior for so
+long. We may congratulate ourselves on the fact that, in this case,
+unprejudiced experience is strictly opposed to theory. At any given
+moment in our normal lives we find ourselves occupied with some work,
+some problem, the subject-matter of some conversation, and so forth.
+Under these circumstances the total field is well organized; dynamical
+relationships between the self and its objects form one functional
+whole, the development of which we call our “working,” our “solving”
+the problem, our “expressing” our own opinion, and so on. I admit
+that this is a somewhat optimistic description of life. If I return
+to this manuscript after an interruption of a week my “working” at
+first does not quite correspond to the description given. At one
+moment a faint noise will suffice to give me a direction irrelevant
+to the task, at another something else will affect me similarly. If,
+even then, I am occupied with a given thing at a given moment, a great
+many “deflections” of attitude will occur in the course of time until
+finally the work itself begins to be the development of one functional
+whole. What about reproduction during such a happy period of work? All
+the words and concepts occurring in the work itself are associated with
+other words, concepts and situations which have nothing whatever to
+do with the development of the work in question. These associations
+belong to very different epochs and interests in my life. If each of
+them automatically led to the appropriate reproduction, the field would
+become a chaos of incoherent stuff in a few moments, instead of one
+identical whole transforming itself in an orderly manner toward the
+solution of my one actual task. Excluding states of insanity, that
+evidently does not happen. Even if my attitude is deflected a few
+times before I become completely absorbed in the work, I am somehow so
+well directed toward my real task that “distractions” remain precisely
+what this term means, and instantly, in spite of them, my attitude
+is bent back to the main task. Automatic reproduction might account
+for some distractions and disturbances, just as do noises and other
+foreign experiences, but it cannot explain the normal continuity and
+persistency of our working, thinking and doing. On the contrary, if
+there are automatic and independent reproductions, they must be factors
+of little weight in comparison to the stresses and dynamical tendencies
+existing in an actual situation. Some of us, it is true, would be
+inclined to explain the order and continuity of actual work entirely
+by the force of associations. Originally, they would say, there was
+indeed a chaos of ever-changing attitudes and reproductions. But in
+the development from childhood to adult life, some of our attitudes,
+experiences, and so forth, have become so well associated that, now,
+continuous currents of them will predominate over a great many
+disturbances and reproductions of lesser importance. I cannot accept
+this theory, however. If my writing in English about a problem I have
+very seldom discussed even in my own language could be pictured as the
+reproduction of thousands of well-established associations, I might
+agree with the theory. Unfortunately, no such current of associations
+is ready-made in me which would produce what I have to write in these
+very pages. Nevertheless, I persist in writing about one subject-matter
+and, I hope, coherently. Therefore, when comparing the relative
+importance of automatic reproductions with the stresses of the actually
+developing organization of the field in such a case, the balance will
+undoubtedly be in favor of the latter. Habit has been enormously
+overrated in the theoretical treatment of life.
+
+In some of Lewin’s experiments this has been demonstrated quite
+convincingly.[70] I shall describe them in a simplified manner. To
+begin with, his subjects had to learn pairs of nonsense syllables.
+Afterwards they were shown certain other syllables serially, the
+instruction being that in each syllable the first letter should be
+put in the place of the last and vice versa; whereupon they had
+to pronounce the result. The time required for this operation was
+measured. The reader will notice that here we have the situation I
+was just describing. The subject is working on a definite task. If,
+among the second series of syllables, the first one of a _learned_
+pair is given, automatic reproduction should either bring about a
+wrong reaction or, at least, inhibit the right one so that, in such a
+case, the time of reaction would be increased. On the other hand, if
+a syllable presented for reaction is the first member of a _learned_
+pair and if the syllable to be formed by the subject is identical with
+the second member of that learned pair, previous association should
+facilitate the reaction, and the time of reaction should be decreased.
+To the author’s surprise nothing of the kind was observed. There were
+no wrong reactions caused by reproduction on the basis of previous
+association. Where reproduction should have inhibited the subject’s
+response, the time of reaction was usually not raised above the
+average; where reproduction should have accelerated it, the time was
+the same as in the case of “neutral” or control syllables.[71] It is
+obvious then that, under these circumstances, the dynamical development
+of the total field will follow its own ways or laws, practically
+independent of the strong associations which some of its parts may have
+acquired in the past.
+
+Recently Dr. Lewin told me that this fact might be explained, partially
+at least, in terms of a principle which I discussed at the beginning of
+this chapter. If A has been associated with B, A will not reproduce
+B, if the properties of A are changed. We know that such a change will
+occur when, the stimuli corresponding to A being given, A becomes
+part of a new organization. If during learning a syllable A is read
+naturally, it is taken simply as a whole. However, if the subject later
+obeys the instruction to interchange the first and the last letters
+of the syllable A, he will view the syllable in terms of this task.
+Consequently, it will appear in a new organization, the first and the
+last letters being seen as outstanding members of the syllable, or
+whatever else may be changed by its entrance into a new total field.
+This might suffice to make A unable to reproduce B. The explanation
+seems to be corroborated by the observation that in most cases the
+subjects did not even notice the presentation of _known_ syllables
+among the new ones. In any case, it is advisable to make similar
+experiments using other material, the properties of which would be more
+characteristic and less likely to be changed in a new total field.
+Neither Dr. Lewin nor I yet feel convinced that an adequate theory
+of the whole matter has been formulated. In some of his experiments
+the subject’s attitude towards the syllables was practically the same
+during learning as it was during the subsequent testing, but it did not
+lead to reproduction either, so long as other circumstances remained as
+I have described them. If objects normally do not effect the automatic
+reproduction of their names (cf. above pp. 333-335), it would be a
+bold assumption to make in every case that reproduction did not occur
+because the properties of the objects had been altered too much by our
+actual attitude.
+
+In certain very interesting experiments Lewin has finally succeeded
+in creating reproductions or inhibitions on the basis of previous
+associations, _against_ the task given by the experimental instruction.
+This was achieved by arranging the whole situation in a special manner.
+If, in the case of certain syllables, reproduction will effect the
+same result as would the procedure strictly corresponding to the
+instructions, and if, then, the subject is seduced into relying upon
+reproduction as the easier way, his attitude may unintentionally become
+completely one of reproducing. The total field having now acquired this
+direction temporarily, the next syllable will tend to reproduce its
+partner, though in this case _reproduction_ may be absolutely wrong
+with respect to the experimental task. Both erroneous reproduction
+and inhibition of the correct performance were demonstrated by Lewin
+in these neat experiments. This would almost seem to show that
+reproductive tendencies cannot influence a given total field before the
+actual attitude has been transformed into one of reproducing.
+
+Still I hesitate to adhere to such a radical assumption. I take it
+as definitely established that psychology has gone much too far in
+admitting the free play of independent and automatic reproductions.
+But shall we suppose that during our whole lifetime no reproduction
+will occur without our attitudinal direction being one of reproducing?
+It may be so. Until much more is known about the matter through further
+experimentation, however, we should hold our judgment _in suspenso_.
+Moreover, if actual attitude should be shown to be all but decisive
+for the reproduction issuing from a part of the field, another equally
+important problem will become that of the genesis and change of
+attitudes themselves. Certainly, attitudes do arise, they persist, they
+change and disappear, for many reasons. And we may safely say that the
+problem of reproduction is here again. We do not know very much about
+the reproduction of attitudes _as such_. But the possibility of this
+kind of reproduction, even in the simplest and most “classical” form,
+cannot be denied in our present state of knowledge.
+
+In no case shall we be inclined to give our discussion of reproduction
+an exaggerated meaning. Current theories of habit, association
+and reproduction, it is true, do not realize how very special the
+conditions are which must be fulfilled before a well-organized
+situation is seriously influenced by “foreign” reproductions. It is
+also true that we are just beginning to see the most important problems
+in this field. Again it is fortunately true that reproduction will not
+occur in millions of cases in which we should have predicted it from
+the viewpoint of the rather superficial classical theories. But, after
+all, enough remains of reproduction which must be taken into account.
+If, in writing these pages, I am not continually deflected from my
+task by a great many accidental reproductions, on the other hand, I
+could not write a single word if I had no reproductions at all. English
+words are continually though hesitantly arising from somewhere--by
+reproduction. In writing, my hand moves across the paper in forms much
+more easily reproduced. There is no question about the occurrence and
+the _value_ of reproduction in almost every moment of our life. The
+problem is merely to explain why, excluding instances of occasional
+error, of stupidly repeated habit, and so forth, reproduction should be
+restricted mainly to those cases _in which it has a value with respect
+to the actual total field and its dynamical development as a functional
+whole_.[72]
+
+               *       *       *       *       *
+
+This is a chapter of criticism and of open problems. I cannot avoid
+adding one more question which has not yet found adequate attention in
+all quarters, though von Kries pointed it out thirty years ago.
+
+Suppose A and B have become associated; how does a process A (or A^1,
+very similar to A), bring about the reproduction of B? In addition to
+the problems discussed in the preceding pages, here is a question
+of great difficulty. In some textbooks, it is true, reproduction is
+explained easily enough on the basis of machine theory. The process
+A has been conducted along a definite path in the nervous system;
+similarly, and at practically the same moment, B has been conducted
+along another path. Between the central terminal nuclei of both paths,
+it is assumed that fibers become specially conductive, in consequence
+of those simultaneous processes in the central nuclei of paths A and B.
+From this viewpoint reproduction will occur later on when a new process
+A (or A^1) is conducted along the same path to the same final station
+which, now, is especially well connected with the terminal nucleus of
+path B. Taking the line of least resistance, the process will spread
+to the place of B and reactivate it. Every one knows figures like
+this (Fig. 24) which, neglecting some minor complications and giving
+simple lines instead of neurones, contains the whole functional scheme
+involved in that idea. Obviously, this is purely a machine theory, in
+which reproduction does not depend upon the properties of associated
+processes. If A reproduces B, this is the case because, once and for
+all, the process A is conducted along one definite path to a nucleus
+of termination from which one set of conductive mechanisms--in the
+direction of B’s nucleus--has previously been made more pervious and
+permeable than _any_ others.
+
+Fig. 24
+
+The nature of this scheme makes it unfit to explain real reproduction,
+for two reasons:
+
+(1) If a process X, altogether different from A, should happen to
+be conducted along A’s path to its final nucleus, it would take the
+line of least resistance from there, spread to the nucleus of B and
+reproduce it, though X has never occurred together with B a single
+time. You object, claiming that this scheme was to be applied only to
+such processes as had occurred simultaneously before? But in the scheme
+itself such a restriction is not mentioned; in any case we cannot
+deduce from the scheme why it should be so. Therefore, the scheme will
+not explain one essential condition of reproduction.
+
+(2) If the process A should happen to start from quite another point
+of the receptor organ along another path, it will not be conducted
+to that cerebral cells which have been especially connected with the
+cerebral nucleus of B. Consequently there is no reason why it should
+spread to B rather than to any other cells. This means that, in such
+a case, A will not reproduce B, though it is associated with it. If,
+under experimental conditions, however, a process A, starting from one
+region of the retina, has been associated with another process B, a
+process A (or A^1) projected upon quite another part of the retina,
+will reproduce B without great difficulty. So much has been shown by E.
+Becher.[73]
+
+If you object that between the new path of A and the cerebral area of B
+there _may_ also be some highly conductive path, you introduce chance
+conditions instead of an explanation by definite acquired machine
+arrangements, i.e., you give up your claim to precise explanation.
+Moreover, if coming from this new point of origin A should happen to
+find such readily conductive paths to B, the same might conceivably be
+true of all possible processes D, E, F and so forth, which, therefore,
+should “reproduce” B at any time without previous association.
+
+The weakness of the whole scheme is, then, that it makes reproduction
+depend upon _the specific location of paths and nuclei_ in each
+particular case, as though such simple location were a true
+representative of definite process. Only if this were so, might a
+theory of reproduction become a purely topographical matter. In the
+optic sector of the nervous system, at least, a given process may be
+conducted in one bundle of fibers at one time, and another process may
+be conducted in the same bundle shortly afterwards. Furthermore, the
+same process may be conducted in certain fibers now, and in other
+fibers later on. Therefore, the necessary requirement for making the
+machine theory of reproduction possible is not fulfilled in the case of
+our most important sense organ. In the optical system the correlation
+between the different kinds of process and the different localities
+in which they may occur is very near to zero. This should destroy all
+hope of treating reproduction exclusively in terms of topographical
+conditions.
+
+I shall admit at once that, in this respect, we are as yet no better
+off with the hypothesis about association which was proposed in the
+last chapter. It is similar to the old view insofar as it assumes a
+physiological trace of (AB) and insofar as, in each case, this trace
+must have some _place_ in the nervous system. If, then, the process A
+enters the nervous system from a different point of origin and along
+another path, how does it arrive at the specific locus of that trace?
+One feels inclined to give a dynamical explanation. The similarity
+between A and its trace might work _as though_ A were attracted to the
+trace. I shall not venture an explanation here, however, for a very
+simple reason. The problem is formulated as if automatic reproduction
+were the simplest and most common event in the world. But we have seen
+that it probably is not. Perhaps, when we learn a little more about the
+concrete rules and conditions of reproduction _as such_, we shall be
+better able to treat its physiological basis.
+
+
+BIBLIOGRAPHY
+
+  E. Becher: _Gehirn und Seele_. 1911.
+
+  J. von Kries: _Die materiellen Grundlagen der
+  Bewusstseinserscheinungen_. 1901.
+
+  K. Lewin: Psychol. Forsch. 1 and 2. 1921, 1922.
+
+  K. Lewin: _Vorsatz, Wille und Bedürfnis_. 1926.
+
+  W. Poppelreuter: Zeitschr. f. Psychol. 61. 1912.
+
+
+
+
+X
+
+_Insight_
+
+
+IF habit and reproduction are not to be regarded as the main motors
+of so-called mental life, what shall we say are the real ones? To
+this question there is one answer, not well formulated but implicitly
+accepted, which we may call the layman’s belief. It is the layman’s
+belief that, in general, he himself directly feels _why_ at one time
+he has one attitude, and later on another; also that, for the most
+part, he knows and understands directly _why_ he is inclined to do
+one thing in a certain particular situation and _why_ a definitely
+different thing under subsequent different conditions. In his view,
+then, he is experiencing directly and truly much of that dynamical
+context, the development of which constitutes mental life. Opposed to
+this belief and altogether foreign to it, we have the view of most
+learned psychologists at the present time. From their viewpoint, one is
+inclined to do one thing now and then another, because, in the first
+instance, certain nerve paths are most available and, in the second
+instance, certain other paths are most open. Fortunate those people in
+whom the most permeable nerve paths in practise are usually the right
+and appropriate ones! From the psychologist’s point of view it would
+be a pure mystery if a person’s behavior should ever be determined, as
+the layman believes, directly by the concrete properties of the actual
+situation. The layman’s belief is in full agreement with everyday
+experience; the learned view harmonizes with what we suppose to be the
+viewpoint of natural science. I shall confess at once that I choose the
+layman’s belief whole-heartedly. In the treatment of sensory process
+_gestalt_ psychology prefers the data of naïve description to the
+findings of prejudiced introspection. Following this line, the theory
+of the sensory field has begun to have a much more intimate contact
+with the natural sciences than it ever had when it imitated a self-made
+ideal of these disciplines. Similarly if, with regard to the total
+field, we adopt the view of common experience, what is _called_ the
+viewpoint of natural science will soon be given up, in place of which
+we shall substitute the theory of dynamics. At the start of our present
+discussion, therefore, the obvious, almost the vulgar, will have to be
+said. It is not our fault that, to a deplorable degree, the obvious
+has disappeared from learned psychology, so that we have to rediscover
+it. Later in the course of this analysis the obvious aspects of common
+experience will be found to express certain fundamental properties of
+physical dynamics in the nervous system. This is exactly the contrary
+of the prevailing opinion.
+
+We have attacked the atomistic theory of sensory experience. After
+things and the self, events and groups, have been recognized as natural
+parts of the field and its development, the worst mistake which might
+occur would consist in our falling back upon atomism at this higher
+level. It was once the psychologist’s primary aim to look for all
+possible sensations, to collect and to order them in something like a
+museum. After they were thus gathered and arrayed as independent bits
+of experience, the sensory field had consequently to be regarded as
+a mosaic of indifferent spots. We would face the same danger in this
+present treatment if, after discussing a certain type of segregated
+whole in one chapter, and another type in a later chapter, the self
+in one chapter, and attitudes in another, we should again seem to be
+opening a museum to the public. The ways of real life do not coincide
+with those of classification, and if, by abstraction, we unite the
+members of one class, we very probably cut the live bonds of dynamical
+reality at the same time. Perhaps, the most interesting forms of
+dynamical context occur between members of altogether different
+classes. It is instructive to see hundreds of hearts together in a
+collection; but, in operation, a heart has much more to do with a
+lung than with another heart. We should not learn very much about
+their specific coöperation in a classifying museum. In a similar way,
+when we treat sensory wholes as one class, selves as a second and
+attitudes as a third, we might easily be misled into the view that out
+of some sensory objects, some self and some attitudes, actual total
+fields might be composed _ad libitum_. It is evident to any one that
+such an assumption would be altogether childish, there being certain
+_correlations_ between the objects, the selves and their attitudes
+occurring in one common field. Even from the viewpoint of traditional
+psychology, it would be so. However, we cannot be satisfied with this
+statement because, generally, much more than mere correlation will
+occur between the most essential parts of a given total field. Just
+this surplus is the obvious aspect of every one’s life to which we
+have alluded and it is forgotten in at least one-half of scientific
+psychology.
+
+One attitude in which I sometimes find myself is admiration. But I
+am never simply “admiring.” My admiration always is “of” something;
+it does not occur as something by itself and indifferently. Nor is
+there the slightest doubt about what its object is at a given moment.
+In the concert-hall, yesterday at 9 o’clock, it was that _alto_
+voice, singing calmly, confidently and seriously, toward which my
+admiration was directed,--not the nose of my neighbor, not the back
+of the conductor, none of the thousands of other objects and events
+before me. How is that? Admiration is a directed attitude; the voice
+is heard as singing at a definite place. Do I state that the direction
+of the first goes to the place in question and stops there, as a long
+stick might be fastened between me and that place, and end there? Do
+I notice something like that and say, then: “Oh, I guess this curious
+attitude of mine somehow has something to do with that singing!”? I
+certainly do not. As my attitude arises, it is experienced as being the
+natural outcome of what characterizes the singing voice. So long as the
+attitude persists, it is felt as being founded upon the properties of
+that performance. No indirect criteria, no coefficients of correlation
+are needed, then, to teach me about some probable connection here,
+because this actual attitude _is experienced as depending directly upon
+something definite_.
+
+Some weeks ago I saw my little child smiling for the first time, and
+I was charmed. How did I know that my attitude was concerned with
+that smile? If the total field were a mosaic of states, events and
+things, some of them directed and some not, but all of them distributed
+indifferently in consequence of some hidden mechanism, I could not
+guess their mutual connection except by the indirect procedure of
+scientific induction: a change here would be followed by a change
+there; elimination of this part would be accompanied by disappearance
+of that other part. Empirical rules of concomitant variation, and so
+forth, would be all I could find out about the connections existing
+between the several parts. In my case, the frequent concomitance of
+the smile on the child’s face with that other bit of experience, my
+being charmed, would have made me assume that probably there was some
+connection between the two. How far have we gone in psychology that
+it is possible, or even seems advisable, to carry on such discussion
+seriously! One side of my child’s face is a little darker because of a
+shadow. Before the sufficient number of experiences have occurred, I
+might as well refer my being charmed to that shadow!
+
+After a long walk, on a hot summer day, I drink a glass of fresh
+beer. There is the cool touch and a characteristic taste in my mouth;
+there is also great pleasure. Did I have to learn gradually that
+the second refers to the first? That it has nothing to do with the
+spider that I see on the wall, or the size of that chair? I did _not_
+learn it. I am no more sure of my enjoyment as such, and of touch and
+taste by themselves, than I am of enjoying just this touch and taste.
+Enjoyment is felt as the adequate attitude _belonging to_ those actual
+experiences, or as their natural result. Between the attitude and its
+sensory basis we experience what in German is called _ihr sachlicher
+Zusammenhang_.[74]
+
+The same is true in a great many cases which differ from the last ones
+only insofar as the attitude has a “negative” character.
+
+For two weeks I have been busy arranging a carefully adjusted set
+of instruments for experimentation. This morning I found them
+completely out of order. Whoever may be guilty, I am angry. If, now,
+I should say that here is the window, there the desk, in one corner
+the instruments out of order, in another a chair, and near the door
+myself in an attitude of anger, would that be an adequate description
+of the total situation? It would not. I am sure that the door has no
+connection whatever with my attitude; for I know that, on discovering
+the unfortunate change, I was angry _about the alteration_. Again, the
+attitude is felt as _founded upon_ something definite, its character
+being the natural and direct consequence of that something’s properties.
+
+One beautiful night in Tenerife, when I was working calmly at my desk,
+I was suddenly frightened as I have never before been frightened. The
+house was rattling and shaking violently--my first experience of an
+earthquake! There was no doubt whatever about my being frightened _by_
+that sudden rattling and shaking. Once more the attitude--if fright may
+be called an attitude--_was felt as obviously and naturally produced
+by that new experience_. We do not gradually learn that unexpected
+events of a strongly dynamical type will be accompanied by fright, as
+though _a priori_ any other experiences, a friendly face or the smell
+of a rose, might be accompanied by fright just as well. Fright is
+_experienced as_ jumping at us right out of the very nature of certain
+definite events.
+
+After sitting for half an hour in a restaurant, full of smoke and of
+talk all around me, I feel “nervous” and ready to go. My “nervousness”
+_refers to_ those properties of my environment. I know this, not only
+because in past experience I may have discovered the rule that under
+such conditions I shall feel uneasy after a time. I experience myself
+directly as disturbed and confused _by_ those surroundings. I might
+say also that I feel myself _necessarily growing “nervous” under the
+pressure of_ sticky air and loud, disorderly noise. Actually these
+conditions can only produce that one effect upon me. That is how I feel
+them.
+
+Last but not least, I was very much depressed two days ago. At the
+same time I could not hit upon an adequate presentation of what I
+conceived to be the subject-matter of this chapter. Were there two
+separate facts, then, the probable connection of which I might have
+stated by some indirect method? No need to! When I was trying to solve
+my problem, I felt my depression _as based upon_ my failure directly.
+Just such a feeling had to grow out of such a situation because of its
+properties.
+
+If, in all these examples, I feel how my own attitude is determined
+by the nature of something before me, in other instances something
+before me will be experienced quite as naturally as growing out of my
+attitude.
+
+When I look at Fig. 1 without any special effort, I have two groups
+of dots before me. But if, for some reason, I become interested in
+oblique lines, the figure will be transformed into three oblique pairs
+of dots, for instance, each of which runs like an oblique line from a
+lower dot to the right to a dot higher up to the left. Suppose that
+the transformation really occurs; it grows out of my attitude quite as
+naturally as my anger develops out of a definite event. When I scratch
+my head or hum a tune simultaneously, I do not feel the slightest
+connection of these activities with the described transformation
+of Fig. 1. But the transformation is _felt as depending upon_ that
+particular attitude directly.
+
+What was the name of that town on the Santa Fé Railroad? There it
+comes! When I am searching for a name, searching does not occur as
+one thing apart; nor does the gap of the forgotten name occur as an
+isolated item among other things--a headache, the noise of the wind,
+the lamp before me, and so forth. Searching is experienced as directed
+toward that definite name, hidden as yet, but now, at last, yielding
+to the stress of my attitude. As it appears, its coming is felt as
+_being achieved by_ just this little stress of mine. I ask again, Did
+I learn gradually through numerous experiences that in this particular
+situation such an attitude will be _followed_ by a name so that now
+I may venture to guess about their mutual relation? Without previous
+training, would that noise outdoors be connected with the given
+attitude as well?
+
+I hold my arm horizontally for a while. Very soon the arm will not
+remain in that position unless I exert a special effort. In my total
+field there is, besides this effort, the blue sky, a lark’s song,
+the aspect of the lifted arm, a smell of moist ground. There is also
+a curious feeling in the lifted arm, growing more intense as the
+minutes go by, and, with this feeling, something like a downward
+pull in the arm. Geometrically, as it were, or logically, my actual
+experiences allow a large number of different combinations into pairs.
+My effort may be combined with the lark’s song, the smell, the color
+of the lifted hand, and the blue of the sky. But my effort is not an
+isolated something, equally indifferent to all parts of the field. It
+is experienced as keeping the arm horizontal _against that downward
+pull_. The nature of the pull is felt as requiring just such an
+effort in compensation, and the nature of the effort is experienced
+as compensating just this pull. If some one tries to describe the
+situation in terms of indifferent data, each of which has a place,
+some of which have a direction (but independently of each other), some
+occurring at one time, and some at another, and all of them having
+hundreds of mutual “relations” as to place, distance, succession or
+simultaneity, intensity and so on,--he will not even touch what
+psychologically is the main feature of the situation.
+
+In discussing a somewhat similar case David Hume emphatically defended
+the opposite view. I do not know how my arm is lifted, he said, when I
+wish to raise it. There can be no more than mere succession in time,
+since I do not know the nature of the physiological mechanism that
+effects the raising. What a strange argument! And how much opposed to
+what Hume had promised to furnish as an analysis of pure experience.
+When we talk about “the arm” in this connection, we have to deal with
+an experienced thing, not with a physical object and its movements in
+physical space. Whatever the nature of peripheral innervation may be
+in Hume’s case, we are dealing with a definite “wish” and a definite
+experienced movement of our arm. The problem is whether this particular
+wish is naturally experienced as being as foreign or indifferent to the
+arm’s felt movement as it is to the seen color of that cloud or the
+brown of the skin. In haste the great philosopher seems to have skipped
+over a dangerous point here, unintentionally making use of a simple
+logical trick, by which, however, he saved his theory for almost two
+centuries.
+
+In order to make the import of these paragraphs more circumscribed, I
+shall consider an objection.
+
+One might say after all that those experiences of “depending upon,”
+“being the natural outcome of,” “being based upon” or of “sustaining
+against” do not prove that a _necessary_ connection exists in the
+field. I greatly enjoyed the overture to _Tristan und Isolde_ twenty
+years ago and, at that time, I might have given exactly the same
+description of my enjoyment as the direct and evident outgrowth of just
+that piece of music. What has become of my attitude toward the piece?
+I am tired of it. At present, I should be rather inclined to find
+aversion the only possible and natural outcome of hearing the overture.
+Nor would I doubt for a moment what this aversion refers to or is based
+upon. The answer to this objection will consist in our saying that all
+this is absolutely true, but that it does not really constitute an
+objection. With exactly the same physical situation, or sequence of
+sound-waves, the same person will feel “pleasure” _growing out of_ his
+sensory experience to-day, and be altogether disgusted by it only a few
+days later on. A simple way to achieve that alteration experimentally
+would be to give our subject the same sequence of sounds three hundred
+times each day.[75] But we have no right to say that after more than a
+thousand repetitions the same melodies will be experienced as having
+quite the same properties they had to begin with. They have changed,
+no doubt; they have become a musical commonplace, sounding empty and
+stale. Keep away from these melodies for a few years! Then you may find
+something more similar to their original nature again, and if, then,
+you enjoy them once more, your enjoyment will be felt to grow out of
+them as obviously as when you first listened to them. An attitude is
+felt as being the natural outcome of actual experience; the objection
+stated above misinterprets this definition, as though it meant a
+constant connection between a set of _stimuli_ and the attitude.
+
+For still another reason, music which I enjoyed twenty years ago
+may not please me to-day, even without the unfortunate influence of
+frequent repetition. What I call my self has changed its properties
+considerably in the meantime. Why, then, should the music produce
+the same effects upon this changed self? Once more I must point out
+that our feeling of something naturally depending upon something else
+does not refer to a correlation, or a highly constant “togetherness”
+_as such_, stated in terms of the external observation of a great
+many cases. It refers rather to an evident dynamical dependence as
+experienced _hic et nunc_ in one actual case. As this flower before me
+is certainly red, though if I should become color-blind later on, it
+would be gray, so such a dependence in the total field is real now,
+independently of what the future will make of it.
+
+From this consideration we may learn something more. The way in which a
+piece of music affects me now, in contrast to the attitude it produced
+twenty years ago, has been determined by some change of my self. I
+should hesitate very much to assert that _this_ change of my self was
+experienced as the only possible outgrowth of definite conditions,
+quite as evidently and directly as, at a given time, my attitude toward
+the piece of music is felt to grow out of its actual properties with
+natural necessity. Therefore, I did not experience the _way_ in which
+one attitude instead of another has become the natural outcome of my
+listening to that piece. Certain conditions must have gradually changed
+_outside_ the field of my experience; the change in my attitude must
+somehow depend upon that change of conditions. But I have never felt
+the former change being brought about by the latter change.
+
+It is an old rule in science that nothing makes certain positive
+statements more worthy of credit than their author’s frank
+acknowledgment of negative cases and his attempt to emphasize the
+contrast himself. I shall be the last to deny that in hundreds of cases
+we are very far from experiencing how one state of affairs is brought
+about by others. Let a subject observe a continuous movement for a
+while and then fixate a face or a pattern. His surprise when he sees
+the after-image of that movement for the first time in his life will
+be sufficient as a proof here that the experience of the after-effect
+is necessarily brought about by certain conditions without the subject
+being aware of any natural bond between them. Probably, here, the main
+conditions remain entirely outside the field of direct experience.
+
+Again, after fixating the center of Fig. 8 for a while, many subjects
+will be greatly surprised when suddenly another, quite different,
+shape appears before them. We do not directly feel _why_ just this
+transformation should occur after continuous fixation. We feel it
+so little that once a physicist, who had been shown such a figure
+consisting of bright lines in an otherwise dark room, afterwards asked
+me how, from my position twelve yards off, I had been able to put
+another figure in the place of the first, so quickly and surprisingly!
+He did not even suspect that something in his own organism was
+producing the transformation.
+
+Eventually there cannot be a doubt that even certain emotional
+attitudes may occur without our feeling their _raison d’être_ directly.
+As sometimes we suddenly feel that we have caught a cold without
+knowing where and when, thus some morning we may feel the way an
+ominous cloud looks, i.e., with a silent anger which does not seem to
+have an obvious basis in the present field of our experience. Such a
+cloud of anger, it is often true, will easily find something upon which
+to discharge itself, and, then, that external something will appear as
+an adequate object of the anger. Before that time, we cannot do more
+than _guess_ about the hidden first cause of our angry mood. It may be
+some unknown climatological condition working upon our organism, or it
+may be disturbed digestion. However, we do not directly “feel” any of
+these causes. This example may be regarded as particularly interesting,
+since it seems to teach us two different lessons: It corroborates the
+view that, as well as instances in which dynamical context _as such_ is
+experienced directly and actually, there are other instances in which
+effects are conspicuous in experience, although experience is blind and
+deaf as to their determination. The second lesson is that both sorts
+of determination may be united in one single event, because when, in
+the attitude of a threatening cloud, we discover something upon which
+to release the tension, that something will appear and probably _be_
+appropriate to the production of an angry reaction. But that we should
+react so vehemently will be the result of those hidden conditions
+which had transformed us into an ominous cloud before there was this
+opportunity for “justified” anger.
+
+I do not see, however, that the fact of hidden determination as
+observed in some cases is an argument against experienced determination
+in others. In the case of cholera and plague, germs are found to be the
+decisive condition of disease. In diabetes this is not the case. Who
+would deduce an argument against bacteriology from such a “negative”
+case? Therefore we may accept the same duplicity in our case, too.
+
+But is it not evident that, in spite of our examples, so-called
+“experienced determination,” in a great many instances, may be a simple
+product of learning? When, in my mail, the address on one envelope is
+in a certain handwriting, I feel happy over the discovery; whereas with
+the finding of some other handwritings, just the contrary is true. We
+may neglect the graphological and esthetic sides of our reaction, since
+we know that it is chiefly our acquaintance with the writers which
+makes one handwriting very pleasant and the other disagreeable. In
+either case we seem to feel that our attitude is “the natural outcome”
+of the aspect of the handwriting. Nevertheless, our reaction seems to
+be one which we have had to learn. The same words and letters would
+not be felt as “being the natural basis of our reaction,” if we had
+not become “conditioned” to them. What, then, about that mysterious
+feeling of natural determination? The answer is simple enough. Those
+words and letters have become imbued with all the friendly experiences
+we have had with one person or with all the animosity connected with
+another. As these persons themselves, when present, directly arouse
+the corresponding attitude, their handwritings do so now; not because
+this _attitude_ has become gradually “connected” with the handwriting,
+but because, saturated with the specific character of those past
+experiences, the handwriting represents a _natural_ basis for just
+this attitude, indeed. There is no reason why this determination of
+attitude by the now apparent properties of something before us, should
+not occur and be felt directly.
+
+With respect to this question another remark will be to the point.
+When I am thirsty, I am inclined to think of refreshing drinks.
+What I am thus directed to is brought into my actual experience by
+reproduction. That does not matter very much in our present problem.
+However reproduction may have occurred, once the so-called “idea” of
+the drink is in the actual field, it is felt to be the natural basis of
+longing _for_ it, and the craving is experienced as being determined
+directly by just that sort of “idea” in the present state of the self.
+The mere circumstance that something has come into our actual field
+by reproduction does not at all decide what kind of context it may
+be experienced in when it is there. It will be wise to remember that
+well, because the overwhelming importance of learning, of habit, of
+reproduction, has been so constantly emphasized in psychology, that we
+will almost stop thinking and considering any further problems with
+respect to a situation in which _some_ influence or participation of
+past events and of reproduction has been shown. But even if all “parts”
+of a given situation should be found to owe their actual presence to
+reproduction, there would still be one problem before us: In what
+degree do they belong dynamically to each other here and now, in the
+manner we are discussing in this chapter?
+
+We have come back to what has been called above the layman’s belief.
+Without knowing anything about the fundamental weight of his conviction
+he takes it as the simplest matter in the world, that he has such a
+feeling now “because of” a certain aspect of his actual situation, and
+that he feels the “because,” too; also, that he lifts his arm with an
+effort felt as “directed against” a heavy weight and “in spite” of it.
+I agree with the layman. In the organization of the total field and
+in thousands of cases, we do experience the live dynamical context
+determining one state this way and that change another way. Moreover,
+we feel where they come from and where they go to, in those instances.
+Above all, we may experience _why_, issuing from just such an event,
+thing or attitude, a given effect should be just the one we find
+growing out of it.
+
+Surprisingly enough, in modern science and most of all in psychology,
+there is a tendency not only to neglect this simple truth, but even
+to persecute it, as though it could not be acknowledged from the
+scientific viewpoint. David Hume has been thought of as the father
+of all the energetic fight against it. But probably in this great
+figure of history we should rather see the exponent, the most eminent
+representative and the best enunciator of an intellectual current which
+took its origin in Greece or even before, thousands of years ago,
+arising from some deep need of mankind for clearness.[76]
+
+There is one sort of clearness and simplicity into which our statements
+and the layman’s belief do not fit very well. That ideal of clarity
+would be achieved, if the world could be conceived as an enormous
+number of equal and unequal pieces, related indifferently as neighbors
+in space and successors in time. That this is a true picture of
+_experience_, at least, is silently presupposed at the very outset in
+Hume’s famous work, so that he does not prove subsequently more than
+he has already implicitly treated as a settled affair. Since we have
+noticed that, in a great many cases, we really do not at all feel _how_
+something is determined by something else, he had no difficulty in
+gathering examples appropriate to his point of view; and since he did
+not see the other cases, or disposed of them as quickly and incorrectly
+as I have described above, he seemed to have demonstrated the truth of
+his view beyond all argumentation.
+
+Being neighbors and following each other, indifferent bits of
+experience will show all possible mutual relations as to space and
+time, which, however, do not prevent them from being an indifferent
+aggregate. In addition, there will be an indefinite number of other
+relations referring to quality, intensity, and so forth. These,
+however, would also form an indifferent network throughout experience,
+merely visible to something like a logical eye, but unreal from the
+viewpoint of experience itself. Laws about natural coexistence and
+sequence of events? No direct grasp of them is possible in such a world
+_à la Hume_! He is said to have been the greatest empiricist of them
+all. But if he constructs such a world, the plan of which is determined
+by his need for a special type of intellectual clarity, he might quite
+as justifiably be called a rationalist.
+
+In his _radical empiricism_ William James laid great stress upon
+the fact that “the relations between things, conjunctive as well as
+disjunctive, are just as much matters of direct particular experience,
+neither more so nor less so, than the things themselves.”[77] This view
+is an obstacle in our way rather than an aid; neither do we receive any
+help from James, when he, though attacking atomism in the treatment
+of experience, clearly fails to recognize natural segregations in the
+sensory field (Chap. V). “Relations” might be found indifferently
+between all parts, fractions, or bits of the field, if we search for
+them. In this respect, and unless more is said, relations will be
+entirely unfit to make us understand why some definite and particular
+attitude is experienced as arising “because of” some definite and
+particular event or thing in the field. The field is by no means
+experienced as being everywhere full of those dynamical bonds. There
+are _relations_, nevertheless, between that same attitude and all the
+rest of the field.
+
+In some places, it is true, James attacks our problem from another
+side, as when he writes about our “sustaining a felt purpose against
+felt obstacles, and overcoming or being overcome”;[78] also where in
+his description “the experiencer feels the tendency, the obstacle, the
+will, the strain, the triumph, or the passive giving up, just as he
+feels the time, the space, the swiftness or intensity, the movement,
+the weight and color, the pain and pleasure, the complexity, or
+whatever remaining characters the situation may involve.”[79] This is
+something quite unlike an indifferent network of relations throughout
+the field. The stress is not placed precisely where I have tried to
+place it, largely because for James “activity” _as such_ was of chief
+importance, whereas our description centers around the experience
+of a great many different attitudes as they arise naturally out of
+the properties of an event before us, or vice versa. Still there is
+some agreement, at least, about our experiencing directly certain
+determinations in the total field.[80]
+
+A great deal of purely sensory organization may be called “silent”
+because, though we experience the _result_ of it as segregated wholes
+with specific properties, we do not usually feel _how_ this result is
+dynamically brought about and maintained. In this respect the total
+field is different; it tells us more about its innermost nature. Here,
+not only the result is experienced, but also very much of its “why” and
+“how” is felt in just the actual context. Wherever this is the case
+we apply the term _insight_. When I used this term in my treatment
+of intelligent behavior in apes, I ran the risk of an unfortunate
+misinterpretation. Since that behavior comprised extraordinarily
+conspicuous accomplishments which we did not expect to find in
+animals, insight would be readily misinterpreted as some special and
+supranatural faculty producing admirable and otherwise inexplicable
+results. As I used and intended the term, nothing of that sort should
+be implied in it. To avoid a similar misunderstanding this time, I
+have introduced the concept here in application to very common and
+simple facts. It does not mean more than our experience of definite
+determination in a context, an event or a development of the total
+field; and in the actual cases there need be nothing like an invention,
+or a new intelligent achievement, or so forth. A total field would
+be experienced _without_ insight, if all its several states, wholes,
+attitudes, etc., were simply given as a pattern, in which none was felt
+directly to depend upon any other and none to determine any other.
+
+I have repeated several times that, from the viewpoint of common and
+unsophisticated experience, nothing can be more obvious than just that
+direct determination. So much so, that in natural life scarcely a
+single actual total field would be said to lack that characteristic.
+With respect to this conviction of the layman we have not added more
+than truisms, indeed. Among learned psychologists, however, there will
+only be a minority at present who, fully realizing the theoretical
+importance of this point, are quite ready to accept it. There is a
+second group, much larger than the first, comprising psychologists,
+who time and again will talk in a manner involving, presupposing and
+implying insight as a characteristic of their subjects’ or their own
+experience. This is done, however, without their being aware of it,
+and consequently one does not find trace of it in the list of their
+theoretical concepts. To participate, practically, in the naïve and
+sound procedure of the layman is not the same thing as to realize what
+one is doing from a theoretical viewpoint. The less so, since the
+well-established and socially acknowledged concepts of experimental
+psychology belong almost completely to the theoretical world of Hume.
+In a third and last group of psychologists all those scientists may
+be counted, to whom the creed of Hume or the scientific epoch of
+the nineteenth century seems to be _the_ final stage of theoretical
+advance, any essential change or development thereof being forbidden.
+What has been described in the last paragraphs is mysticism in their
+eyes. They would probably find no difficulty in asserting that,
+riding in a bus, we might refer actual anger to the friendly face
+of a beautiful girl before us just as well as to the man who has at
+that moment chosen our feet as a basis for the considerable weight of
+his whole body. Or, more correctly, they would not acknowledge _any_
+experience of natural reference at all, since what “connections” there
+are, are all due to indirect learning or conditioning. Consequently,
+they never mean an actual “reference to”; they mean merely a “coming
+together” or a “following each other.” There is no doubt that true
+behaviorists belong to this third class. But usually they decline to
+enlist in any of the parties; because our problem still seems to remain
+entirely in the field of direct experience, of which they refuse to
+take any account.
+
+The problem can be readily transformed, however, into a matter of brain
+physiology. At the very outset (Chap. II) it was proposed to use direct
+experience as an indicator of those physiological processes which,
+occurring between the realm of outer conditions and the overt behavior
+of the organism, are not directly observable at the present time.
+
+In that field of the brain the processes of which underlie our
+experienced field, the context of states and events was said to
+be a true picture of direct experience. To the actual order of the
+experienced field there corresponds the actual order of nervous
+processes, in each case. When one thing appears as a segregated whole
+in experience, a corresponding, detached whole exists in nervous
+process, and so forth. Mere continuity and consistency of theory
+has obliged us to acknowledge then, that, in some part of the same
+physiological field those processes must occur which, whether they
+be sensory or not, underlie the self, its actual states, properties
+and attitudes. As in experience I am surrounded by the things and
+events of my environment, so the processes corresponding to my self
+will be in the midst of a corresponding environment, consisting of
+sensory processes and so forth, in the brain field. If, now, there is
+experience not only of things and events, of my states and attitudes,
+all occurring indifferently by themselves, but also of _this actual
+attitude being the direct outcome of that feature of the environment_,
+or of _this state in my surroundings being determined by that actual
+attitude of mine_, there seems to be only one way to conceive the
+underlying physiological context. Where, in dynamical determination,
+the properties of one part of a field depend directly upon the
+actual nature of some other particular part, those properties do not
+exist indifferently as such; they originate and they are maintained
+by the stress of just those particular forces which issue from the
+determining part, according to its actual nature. Assuming that the
+same is true in the brain field which is true in a physical field, the
+properties of the actual physiological self[81] will change and may be
+kept changed a while, under the stress of some particular process in
+the same field, corresponding to an essential thing or event in the
+experienced environment. The changed state of the self does not exist
+independently; it is produced and maintained by something definite,
+the actual nature of which expresses itself in just this dynamical
+influence. If, therefore, this particular dynamical context is taken
+to be the physiological fact underlying our experience of direct
+determination of attitude, no mystery remains in our description of
+common experience.
+
+To make this point more clear, the situation in one of our concrete
+examples could be thus stated. When, on a hot day I enjoy a cool drink,
+my enjoyment is felt to refer to, or to be based upon, the properties
+of the drink and my thirst, but not to the spider on the wall, nor
+to the size of a chair, nor to thousands of other things. In the
+brain-field, more particularly in that part of it which corresponds to
+the self, there is a special process B, felt as thirst in experience.
+Now when I begin to drink, another process A, corresponding to
+experienced coolness and taste, develops in the same region of the
+brain-field (experienced interior of the mouth) where until now there
+was only the process of “thirst.” In terms of the theory of insight and
+of direct physiological determination, A begins at once to exert an
+influence upon B, the influence depending upon the concrete properties
+of A and those of the actually existing state B. The change, which is
+produced, is felt as pleasure (and, concomitantly, decreasing thirst).
+And this change I assume to be determined by A no less directly than
+is the rising temperature of a black surface determined by the rays of
+light falling upon it or the “attitude” of a dwindling fire by a fresh
+supply of oxygen. From our viewpoint we do not have separate bits in
+experience where we have a functional context in the physiological
+total field, one part of which reacts directly to the definite and
+particular properties of another. _Therefore_, in our example, we
+cannot experience enjoyment as something apart, among a pattern of
+hundreds of other things. Enjoyment has to be felt as “referring to”
+and as referring to something definite, the process of which determines
+the process of enjoyment.
+
+So far, instead of mystery, the most elementary concepts of physics
+are introduced into our view of the total physiological field. There
+is not the slightest reason why we should not experience determination
+_as such_; nor is there any reason why, in concrete cases, we should
+not feel just what our actual state or attitude is based upon; in one
+word, there is no reason why _insight_ should not be an essential
+characteristic of much experience in the total field. Of course, what
+has been said about the determination of the self by parts of the
+environment, may be applied to the opposite case at once, in which an
+actual attitude of ours is felt directly as producing or as maintaining
+a change in our surroundings. Here, the influencing and the influenced
+have only changed places, both physiologically and in experience.
+
+Although the layman’s belief is thoroughly justified by such a view,
+there is strict contradiction between it and the opinion now prevailing
+in scientific psychology. The contrast between machine theory and
+dynamical theory becomes clear once more. Neither in the usual scheme
+of a reflex, nor in that of a conditioned reflex, nor even in any
+attempt to explain association (in the older form of that concept),
+will the properties of one particular process determine directly
+the nature of another. An influence always remains a matter of some
+intermediate “paths of optimal conduction,” the particular properties
+of a first process A being something apart, transmission of “nervous
+energy” along those paths another separate event, and the effect upon
+a later process B, still a third thing, determined by the arrival of
+that indifferent “nervous energy.” Therefore, if another path had been
+a better conductor, a different realm or process C, instead of B, would
+have been changed by the sudden impulse from without; in any case, the
+change of B into a B^1 or of C into a C^1 would have been independent
+of the concrete properties of A. In terms of such a theory A will
+produce B^1 only because there is that one-way street between them. By
+some change in nervous connections a thirsty man might be roused into a
+fit of anger at the experience of the coolness and the taste of a fresh
+drink!
+
+The objection will perhaps be raised that, excluding certain radical
+behaviorists, no one has explicitly presented such an absurd theory of
+mental life. I shall not give much weight to this historical question,
+because one thing is much more important: Why do we not formulate
+the positive theory of direct dynamical determination in the total
+field? Why do we not expressly acknowledge insight as one of the
+most fundamental and common facts of mental life, and, therefore, as
+fundamental theoretically? Why do we discuss as many psychological
+problems as we possibly can _as though_ the machine concepts were the
+only ones available or, at least, the best ones from the viewpoint
+of natural science? I do no more than derive quite frankly the
+consequences of such a scientific situation. In doing so, I have
+but one aim. We must advance from an implicit and almost unwitting
+presupposition of insight and direct dynamical determination, which,
+expressed in careless psychological terminology, cannot give rise to
+concrete consequences, to a clear realization of the essential point.
+This I believe to be the contrast between the indirect and indifferent
+connections of processes in machine theory and the directly adequate
+determination of one process by another in the dynamical theory of the
+brain field.
+
+In the last pages it was my original intention to talk about insight as
+occurring only in an _established_ total field, in which an actually
+existing attitude is felt to be the outcome of some definite fact in
+the environment, or vice versa. I have not been able, however, to
+restrict the discussion to such a settled case, despite my intentions.
+And nothing could be more characteristic of our problem than is this
+failure, because, in order to produce a somewhat accurate description,
+we must necessarily go beyond the actual state of the total field and
+take account of a certain new feature intrinsic to some of our concrete
+examples.
+
+In more than one example it was not so much an existing state of the
+self which we felt to be determined directly by the properties of a
+given fact before us, but a _change_ of the self as growing out of
+something particular, just appearing in the field. Sudden fright at
+an unexpected event of a certain sort is an instance of this sort of
+dynamical determination. Again, when in climbing a mountain we reach a
+dangerous place, fear may quickly grow out of the observation of the
+lie of the land where we must take the next three steps. After these
+steps have been successfully accomplished, a feeling of relief will
+develop out of the situation, no less directly.
+
+Nevertheless there will sometimes be more of a _development_ in such
+a dynamical state of the total field. When I described my feeling
+in a restaurant, full of smoke and full of talk, “nervousness,” or
+uneasiness, was not the only thing I had to report about myself. I
+had to add that I felt very eager _to go_. This means that, beside my
+experiencing uneasiness as the natural effect directly determined by
+the environment, I felt a tendency in my self _to move away from it_.
+Again, this tendency was not experienced as something arising, _as
+such_, without reference to definite other parts of the total field;
+on the contrary it was felt to grow directly out of certain properties
+of the situation and my uneasiness. As a layman I would say that I
+wanted to go _because of_ my uneasiness in this particular situation,
+and as a psychologist I shall admit that the layman’s expression is
+absolutely correct, because it corresponds once more to the fact that
+there is insight into the direct determination of that tendency toward
+a definite sort of activity.
+
+Our life is full of trivial instances of this kind and, occasionally,
+the most important and decisive impulses toward definite forms of
+conduct arise directly out of given conditions in the same way. And
+generally we experience the _how_ and the _why_ of such experience.
+
+I am sitting in full sunlight quite contentedly. After a while I
+feel too hot; at the same time a tendency to move away from where
+I am sitting, arises. A shadowy place near by seems pleasant; the
+impulse away from the sunlight becomes at once a tendency toward the
+shadow, and as at first the properties of one place made me inclined
+to move away from it, the properties of another now arouse an impulse
+of approach. In both cases there is insight, since we feel _how_ in
+the first case one tendency grows directly out of the nature of one
+situation, and in the second _how_ some other part of the field, due to
+its properties, quite as naturally determines another impulse. From an
+earlier remark the reader will remember that it does not at all matter
+for our present problem whether the relevant properties of the seen
+shadow are known to us by previous learning or some other way.[82]
+
+The same description may usually be given of fright. When a sudden
+event is felt as producing fright in me, I shall have to add at once,
+in a correct description, that with the fright there arose a vehement
+impulse to move away from the locus of that event. Again, this tendency
+immediately to increase the distance between that place and myself is
+experienced as being the direct outcome of the startling occurrence
+quite as much as the fright itself is felt as its direct result. We
+noticed before how, in Watson’s description of a child’s behavior, the
+overt behavior of withdrawing from the uncanny object may be regarded
+in the sensory experience of the onlooker, as a visible picture of the
+child’s own total field. Does any one believe that the child feels a
+fear of the object, on the one hand, and an impulse to move away, on
+the other, as independent experiences? Or that the child might just as
+well feel a tendency toward embracing or swallowing the object, during
+his fear? As Watson has shown in this case, the object has become
+“dangerous” through previous learning. This does not prove, however,
+that between the danger itself, the fear and the withdrawal, there is
+not more than indirect connections.
+
+As an impulse of withdrawal arises directly out of certain given
+situations, so the opposite tendency belongs as naturally to other
+situations. I have mentioned above the case of a shadow attracting,
+as it were, a person who has had more than enough of the sun. We
+all know that similar instances are more frequent in our life than
+trees in a wood. The child, observed objectively as reaching for an
+animal’s head in Watson’s experiment, feels attracted towards that
+interesting object, if we are willing to grant him any experience at
+all. From our own total field we are well acquainted with the fact
+that such a tendency appears to us as being a natural characteristic
+of exactly such a situation and of a great many similar ones. In
+Spain, after a particularly brilliant achievement of the toreador,
+the admiration of the crowd often drives them so intensely in their
+hero’s direction, that, unable to enter the arena themselves, they
+hang over the balustrades, reaching toward him as far as possible; the
+stress will sometimes be so great that hats, handkerchiefs, and so on,
+are thrown down in the direction of the dominating impulse. Did these
+people learn gradually by some process of conditioning to connect an
+approach-tendency with admiration, as though a tendency toward frowning
+or shaking the left leg might have been, if conditioned, equally well
+“connected” with admiration? I cannot help thinking sometimes that
+whether we are introspectionists, behaviorists or whatever else, the
+chief dividing line among contemporary psychologists would separate
+those who acknowledge obvious, direct determination as it appears in
+common experience from those who can only admit indirect “connections.”
+
+As a last example I choose a simple, practical event: for some purpose
+I wish to break a wooden board. I press against it and, feeling my
+effort directed against the felt resistance of the board, I see and
+feel the board yielding in the same direction. Is it true that, as Hume
+would have us say, this yielding of the board in my experience does
+not develop more naturally out of the direction of my effort than
+would, for instance, a change of the board’s color or a darkening of
+the sun, under the same circumstances? Personally, I feel the board
+yielding just in the direction of my effort and not otherwise, almost
+as naturally as I feel myself yielding in a definite direction, if a
+friend of mine and I measure our strength by pressing hard against each
+other’s shoulders, and I lose the battle. However that may be, if once
+the board begins to yield to my effort, I immediately feel a tendency
+toward going on or, rather, increasing the pressure as a direct outcome
+of that change in the board’s resistance. And, indeed, I really do
+increase my effort.
+
+What is the common content of these examples? That there is more
+than mere succession in the development of our attitudes as they
+refer to actual objects in our field! Things _might_ occur in human
+experience in this way: First, I feel uneasy near a hot radiator,
+for instance; then, as something apart and as an altogether separate
+bit of experience, I feel an impulse away from the radiator, and,
+eventually, as a third independent feeling, I find myself moving in
+some direction which, _geometrically_, would increase the distance
+between that object and me. It is almost impossible to talk about these
+three experiences in a manner which would exclude any natural context
+between them as radically as, in terms of the viewpoint I wish here to
+exhibit, it ought to be excluded. As we read the words, the context of
+insight is built up at once, spontaneously. What is meant will become
+more apparent if again I say that, from such a viewpoint, any event
+whatsoever might follow the first instead of the second, and similarly
+with the relation between the second and the third. In experience
+the real development is supposed to have no better “connection,”
+originally, than any other sequence would have. The first experience
+does not _require_ the second, nor the second the third!
+
+Again we return to machine theory. Normally, one might say, the
+development will consist of just those three events, indeed. Feeling
+hot, feeling a tendency toward moving and moving in a direction
+which, geometrically, coincides with the direction of that tendency.
+Why do just that second and that third event follow the first? One
+possibility: because there is something like an original reflex, a
+well-established path in the nervous system conducting from the place
+of the first process to the place of the second, and a number of
+similar paths leading from this second place to the centers controlling
+the particular movement of our feet in the certain direction. In such
+a theory of the sequence, the result would be practical enough from
+the viewpoint of an observer, and even the subject himself might feel
+satisfied at the _end_ of the series, but that would be all. If, in the
+same situation (heat), pinching his left thumb between the fingers of
+the right hand occurred, followed by his moving in a certain direction
+and, then, by his feeling well, the subject would understand the
+sequence quite as much as or, better, quite as little as, when he sees
+a natural context in the _real_ development. Mere connections between
+parts of the nervous system enforce the sequence, the _properties_ of
+A _as such_ do not take part in the determination of B, and those of
+B are altogether innocent of C’s succession. Such a production of the
+sequence cannot produce in experience more than a series of feelings
+indifferent to each other. There cannot be insight.
+
+Suppose that no reflexes are provided in this case; what theoretical
+explanation can we give, then, of the right succession? The second
+possibility is learning or habit. Many different things originally
+happened in my experience when I felt very hot. Among them,
+occasionally, there were impulses toward moving. Again, among these
+now and then there was one accidental impulse, the direction of which
+was away from the radiator, _geometrically_. (Not for the subject,
+however, who might just as well define this direction as northwest,
+for instance!) After these few occasions another series of events
+followed in a haphazard fashion, all of them equally indifferent to
+the foregoing. But sometimes real _motion_ in the stated direction,
+and the experience of it, would be the next events and, finally, an
+experience of feeling satisfied. However it came to pass in the first
+instance, this one sequence, after it has fortunately happened to
+occur frequently enough, becomes a well-established chain of events,
+in short, a habit. Thereafter it operates as soon as our subject feels
+hot enough. But its operation is no more immediate or natural than
+all those other possible combinations _as such_ would have been. The
+subject feels satisfied at the end of the sequence. But if, after the
+feeling of heat, counting from one to twenty-six had brought about this
+same feeling of relief, and if this sequence had been well associated,
+he would not experience a less natural or satisfying development
+than he really does in the case of the habit of withdrawal. No one
+development is more natural than any other; without exception all
+sequences are _merely_ sequences, and nothing else. It is only by some
+fortunate mechanism that those sequences are “stamped in” as a habit,
+the end of which is _practical success_. The subject cannot feel in
+experience more than an indifferent series of events since, in the
+associated series, the properties of heat do not have any influence
+upon the “right” tendency as the next event, and the experience of
+the “right” movement will be the third event, independently of the
+nature of that tendency. Synapses have become less resistant between
+the localities of those processes; the connecting fibers have become
+more readily conductive. But the connections in the nervous system
+have had nothing to do with the properties of the heat or with the
+direction of that tendency away from the radiator or with the direction
+of the movement itself. The neural factors were merely frequency of
+repetition, recency, and success in a purely external sense of the
+word, or any other principle independent of the concrete properties of
+heat, tendency and movement in their mutual relations with one another.
+
+And instinct? I know only two ways to give this term a somewhat
+concrete meaning as an explanation of real development in experience
+and in behavior. Often the concept means the same thing as “a chain
+of reflexes,” with or without some adornments in the guise of habit
+formation. In this case what has already been said about machine
+theory, about habit or conditioning as the building up of a secondary
+machine, applies immediately to instinct. Two machine theories of
+development, knit together in one application, can lead only to a more
+complicated theory of essentially the same type. Instinct is sometimes
+regarded as a supranatural process, accomplishing those practically
+adequate sequences of behavior which we are not able to explain
+otherwise in a sensible manner. In this form the concept is so little
+suited to my scientific taste that I should like to be excused from
+further discussion of it.
+
+And then? Surprisingly enough, apart from these explanations of
+behavior, we do not seem to recognize other than merely “random”
+sequences in psychology. Where neither an inherited nor an
+acquired machine determines the sequence of events, our theoretical
+formulations, not accustomed to dynamical considerations, will regard
+chance as ruling whatever may happen to occur. So much we have already
+seen in Chapter IV. But a third possibility of orderly determination
+was found there, which we shall now discuss in its application to the
+total field.
+
+After what has been said about the states of the self as depending
+upon the properties of its environment, felt uneasiness (felt as
+resulting from too much heat on one side of the body) will have a
+corresponding process in the underlying brain-field, which will be
+determined directly by that other process underlying the experience of
+an excess of heat on one side. But the tendency to move away from the
+heat is felt as developing in this situation, just as directly as the
+uneasiness is. Consequently we must again draw the same physiological
+conclusion: if some process underlying a certain sensory experience
+directly causes another process underlying dislike and uneasiness in
+the self, a tendency toward increasing the distance between the place
+of the first and the place of the self must develop just as directly
+at the same time. As the tendency is felt to grow out of the nature
+of that sensory experience, and of the experience of uneasiness, the
+tendency must be physiologically determined by the concrete properties
+of the corresponding processes. In dynamics such a tendency toward
+increasing the distance between two things or events is called a field
+of force. We may say, then, that there is in the brain-field a field
+of force tending to increase the distance between the place of the
+radiator and the place of the self. If, now, the subject overtly moves
+in that direction, what happens in the brain-field? As the distance is
+enlarged objectively, exactly the same occurs in the brain-field,--the
+process corresponding to the self moving away from the processes of
+the radiator and of the heat. The subject will feel himself moving
+in precisely the same direction which was felt one moment before as
+the direction of a tendency to movement; and, physiologically, the
+increase of distance in the brain-field will correspond exactly to the
+stress which, as a field of force, was tending in that same direction.
+Therefore, physiologically, as well as in experience, what happens will
+be no more than the natural consequence, the real development, or the
+evolution of something which, in germ, was already implicitly contained
+in the tendency.
+
+So we are led to a more complete application of the theory of direct
+dynamical determination. There is no mere sequence of indifferent
+events, connected indirectly. Each phase of what happens grows out
+of its predecessors, depending upon their concrete nature. And the
+subject, whose experiences are an expression of this one developing
+context in the brain-field, will experience the development, along
+with its “referring to,” “depending upon,” “away from” and so
+forth--that is, with _insight_.
+
+One remark is needed here with regard to the overt movement of the
+organism in its relation to a field of force, existing between the
+self and some part of its environment, in the brain-field. We know
+that during the first months a child is not able to move his hands,
+in accordance with the interest which an object has aroused in his
+sensory field. This fact may be interpreted in two different ways:
+(1) Either there is no natural determination of overt movement by
+definite fields of force in the brain. In this case all “connections”
+between the two would have to be learned. (2) Or the hand does not
+yet move in the direction of actual interest for some other reason,
+whereas when that unknown obstacle is removed a little later by organic
+development, the general direction of the clumsy movements depends
+directly upon actual fields of force in the brain. The astonishingly
+early coördination of eye-movements would make me inclined to consider
+the second hypothesis no less seriously than the first. However, the
+theory of direct determination does not depend upon this choice. Even
+if learning should be the only way in which movements of the hand or of
+any other parts of the body become connected with the distribution of
+forces in the brain-field, the _right_ movement will still be marked
+out by more than the final success it achieves. As soon as, partially
+or entirely, the direction of an overt movement coincides with the
+actually existing nervous field of force, there will be a relaxation
+of tension or stress. Therefore, any beginning in the right direction
+will be felt as being in the right line. Later on, when coördination of
+movement is complete, familiar overt movements will always go in the
+right direction; and they will be felt as fitting into the dynamics of
+the situation, because, in the brain-field, they produce the release of
+previously existing tension.
+
+               *       *       *       *       *
+
+In order to show how the fundamental motors of behavior can bring about
+more complicated conduct through direct determination, I shall conclude
+with the analysis of an observation made on an ape several years ago.
+
+Outside the animal’s cage a banana is placed on the ground, beyond
+the reach of his arm. In a similar situation some days before the
+ape had used a stick as an instrument for the first time. He finds a
+stick to-day, too, but it is a rough thing. A branch projects from the
+side of the stick, near the ape’s hand. At first this branch does not
+operate as an obstacle because, when he reaches for the fruit, the ape
+holds his instrument accidentally in such a position that the branch
+is parallel to the bars of the cage and does not touch them. Presently
+however, in order to change his place with regard to the fruit, the
+ape pulls the stick back into the cage. When he reaches for the fruit
+again, the branch hits a bar and the stick does not move in the
+direction of the fruit. The animal tries to overcome the difficulty
+by pushing hard and crudely a few times. Suddenly, however, and just
+after pressing forward with all his force, he pulls the stick back in
+the cage and bites the branch with the ferocity of anger. It does not
+matter for our purposes whether or not this new conduct was successful.
+But how did it come about at all? An explanation may be given in terms
+of brain-physiology or from the viewpoint of experience. Though I do
+not think that the experience of animals is a matter of great intrinsic
+interest for us, I shall treat the case in terms of experience, since
+it would be more difficult to understand the meaning concretely if
+I made the neurological analysis. When the ape is first directed
+completely toward the fruit, his reaching for it is determined directly
+in the manner we have described. To begin with, the obstacle in his way
+directly produces an increased effort in the same direction. But the
+ape can scarcely push against the bar of his cage without localizing
+the place of the obstacle after a while by touch and, perhaps, by
+vision. He does not feel the obstacle in the direction of his main
+effort; he feels it in the locality of the branch. When an obstacle
+is experienced in our way we become angry by immediate determination,
+and our anger is an attitude directed toward or against the obstacle.
+Consequently, after the main object, the banana, has determined the
+primary direction, the felt obstacle will make the ape’s direction bend
+toward the branch, and since the tendency directly determined by anger
+is attack or destruction, the ape will begin to destroy the obstacle.
+
+I do not know whether this is a completely satisfactory description of
+the whole process. When he attacks the branch, the ape, though actually
+angry, is probably still determined by his _main_ tendency at the same
+time. And this would be required. Otherwise the whole development would
+become a sequence of events, each occurring in direct determination,
+i.e., with insight, but not to be regarded as members of one single
+development occurring in one given situation. Here, however, we reach
+the field of intelligence proper, which I have excluded from the
+program of these chapters.
+
+
+BIBLIOGRAPHY
+
+  W. Benary: Psychol. Forsch. 2. 1922.
+
+  K. Duncker: The Pedag. Sem. 23. 1926.
+
+  Erismann: _Die Eigenart des Geistigen_. 1923.
+
+  K. Jaspers: _Psychopathologie_. 1921.
+
+  K. Koffka: _The Growth of the Mind_. 1924.
+
+  K. Koffka: Psychol. Forsch. 9. 1927.
+
+  W. Köhler: _Mentality of Apes_. 1925.
+
+  W. Köhler: _Die Methoden der Psychologischen Forschung an Affen_.
+  1922 (cf. Chap. II).
+
+  W. Köhler: Arch. f. Entw. Mech. 1927.
+
+  K. Lewin: _Vorsatz, Wille und Bedürfnis. 1927_.
+
+  M. Wertheimer: _Schlussprozesse im produktiven Denken_. 1920.
+
+  A. N. Whitehead: _Science and the Modern World_. 1925.
+
+
+
+
+INDEX
+
+
+  Ability, 47
+
+  Abstraction, 351
+
+  _Accelerando_, 248 f.
+
+  Actions, 250
+
+  Activity, 39 f., 222, 259, 370 (James), 380
+
+  Admiration, 352, 383
+
+  Adrenin, 41
+
+  After image, as case of direct experience, 27;
+    form, 77, 82;
+    on figure and ground, 220;
+    of movement, 362;
+    size of, 76, 82
+
+  All-or-none law, 58, 62, 132
+
+  Ameba, 45
+
+  Anatomical apparatus, 204 n.;
+    basis, 118;
+    structure, 130
+
+  Anger, 41, 261, 355, 357, 363 f., 393
+
+  Animal psychology, 50, 69, 161, 295, 299
+
+  Animals, delayed reaction, 277, 306;
+    insight, 371;
+    perception of, 162;
+    transposition of training, 216, 302
+
+  Anisotropy, of visual field, 215
+
+  Anthropomorphism, 137
+
+  Apes, 52, 105, 216 f., 235, 392, 394
+
+  Approach-tendency, 383
+
+  Area, and form, 202
+
+  Area striata, 14, 131 f.
+
+  Aristotle, 114, 150
+
+  Aristotelians, 136 f.
+
+  Aristotelian astronomy, 108
+
+  Arrangements, anatomical, preëstablished and acquired, 108, 118, 126,
+        130, 133, 134, 140, 146
+
+  Arrhenius, S., 53
+
+  “Articulation,” 250
+
+  Assimilation, 239, 241
+
+  Association, chapter on, 267-300;
+    in empiristic theory, 237, 241, 265, 337, 339, 342, 344;
+    laws of, 333;
+    as organization, 311, 313, 315, 319, 329, 335, versus task, 341
+
+  Associations, and nerve conduction, 116 f.;
+    as machine theory, 121, 377
+
+  Astronomical movements, and machine theory, 137
+
+  Atom, as example of dynamical system, 112, 138, 280;
+    as sub whole, 157
+
+  Atomism, sensory, 148, 351, 369
+
+  Attention, 169, 324
+
+  Attitude, analytical, 106;
+    conflict of, 335 f.;
+    dynamical, 263;
+    influence on sensory experience, 123 f., 124 n., 126, 323;
+    emotional, 324, 363;
+    introspective, 106;
+    and organization of the field, 324 ff., 351 ff.;
+    towards past, 333 ff.;
+    psychological aspect of, 184, 374;
+    and reproduction, 333 ff., 341 f.;
+    of observer, 79, 92, 96;
+    as “special vector,” 211
+
+  Automatic associations, 332
+
+  Autonomic, part of nervous system, 19
+
+  Autochthonous reactions, 52
+
+  Aversion, 360
+
+
+  “Background” (_see_ Ground), 219
+
+  Bacteriology, 364
+
+  Balance, of force, 139
+
+  Banana, 392 f.
+
+  Beats, 189
+
+  Becher, E., 346
+
+  Behavior, chapter on, 224-268;
+    behaviorist’s definition, 17;
+    emotional, 40, 44, 45;
+    intelligent, 48, 53;
+    language as form of, 68;
+    “motors” of, 392;
+    qualitative types of, 39 f.;
+    orderly, 107;
+    physiological foundations of, 66, 102, 106, 115, 373;
+    and physics, 37 f.;
+    as reaction to stimuli, 180, 350;
+    and reflexes, 57;
+    restricted, 51
+
+  Behaviorism, chapter on, 3-34, 37, 38, 41, 51, 53, 55 ff., 67 ff., 87,
+        97, 98, 101, 104, 114, 178, 260, 267 f., 296 f.
+
+  Behaviorist, 373, 378, 383
+
+  “Belonging Together,” 149, 177, 181 ff., 225
+
+  Benary, W., 394
+
+  Bentley, M., 102, 300
+
+  Benussi, V., 130 n., 190
+
+  “Between,” 64 f.
+
+  Beyrl, 105 n.
+
+  Binet and Simon, 16, 47
+
+  Biological theory, changes in, 110
+
+  Birds, 158 ff., 162, 306
+
+  Blindness, mental, 169
+
+  Blood, circulation of, 109, 131
+
+  Body, my, 23, 228 ff., 236, 239, 320;
+    ambiguity of concept, 229
+
+  Bodily events, 236 f., 240, 260
+
+  Boring and Teak, 47 n.
+
+  Brain field, 226, 375, 379, 389 f.
+
+  Brain physiology, 115, 118, 132, 250, 319, 373, 393
+
+  Brightness, constancy of, 78, 80 ff., 91 f., 104 f., 122, 127;
+    versus color, 144;
+    as quality of several senses, 241;
+    absolute versus relative, 304
+
+  Brown, J. F., 84
+
+  Bühler, K., 204 f., 317 n.
+
+  Buytendijk und Plessner, 268
+
+
+  Camouflage, 172, 211
+
+  Cartesius, _see_ Descartes
+
+  Cassiopeia, 154, 164
+
+  Cats, 304, 306 ff.
+
+  Cavendish, 42
+
+  Cells, 132
+
+  Central fields, 132
+
+  Central terminal nuclei, 344
+
+  Cerebral area, 345 f.
+
+  Character, knowledge of, 234
+
+  Chemical properties, of the blood, 131
+
+  Chemistry, 138, 280
+
+  Chemical reaction, 189 f.
+
+  Chick, 69, 105, 216, 302, 303, 304
+
+  Child, behavior of, 323, 382, 391
+
+  Children, constancy of size for, 105
+
+  Chimpanzee, 238
+
+  Circle, constancy of form, 76, 80
+
+  Clang, analysis, 124
+
+  Climatological condition, 364
+
+  Clouds, relative motion of moon, 320;
+    “ominous,” 363
+
+  Coefficient of correlation, 353
+
+  Coherence, 149, 173, 219
+
+  Color, constancy of, 220;
+    localization, 103;
+    and reproduction, 213
+
+  Colors, in distribution, 190, 202;
+    and underlying processes, 62 f., 143, 189, 215
+
+  Communication, genesis of, 258
+
+  Comparison, 10, 68
+
+  Complication, 307
+
+  Concept, behavioristic, 56;
+    mechanical in biology, 114;
+    of physical things, 28, 230
+
+  Concepts, formation of, 304
+
+  “Confusion,” 27, 242
+
+  “Connections,” in machine theory, 383, 385, 391
+
+  “Consciousness,” 32, 40, 162, 240, 262, 269;
+    its relation to direct experience, 8 n.
+
+  Constant conditions, of events, 111
+
+  Conditions, total set of, 126
+
+  Conditioned reflex, 55, 57, 69, 99, 298 f., 365, 373, 383
+
+  Conduct, 393
+
+  Conducting paths, 116, 345 f.
+
+  Conduction, of electrolytes, 53 f.;
+    nervous, 115 f., 122, 132, 387
+
+  Conductivity, and learning, 290
+
+  Conductors, isolated, 98, 122, 377
+
+  Constancy, _see_ Color, form, size
+
+  Constant properties, 112
+
+  Constellation, of stimuli in a larger area, 126, 161, 202;
+    geometrical versus functional reality, 197, 200
+
+  Constellations, of sky, 171
+
+  Contiguity, laws of, 280
+
+  Contours, 114, 144, 170, 202
+
+  Contrast, 106, 125, 127
+
+  Coolness, 241
+
+  Cornelius, H., 193 f.
+
+  Cortical termini, 115
+
+  _Crescendo_, 246, 248 f., 256, 262, 264
+
+  Cross, ambiguous figure, 198, 219
+
+  Crystal, spheres, 109
+
+  Current, potential and densities of, 148;
+    of nervous energy, 290 f.
+
+  Curves, 40 f.
+
+
+  Descartes, 110, 239
+
+  Delayed reaction, _see_ Animals and Reaction
+
+  Depression, 253, 356
+
+  Descriptive Observation, _see_ Observation
+
+  Determination, dynamical versus topographical, 113, 134;
+    point to point in stimulation, 125
+
+  Development, real, 385 ff.
+
+  _Diminuendo_, 248
+
+  Dipper, 154
+
+  Direct dynamical determination, 364 ff., 370 f., 374, 378, 380, 383,
+        390 ff.
+
+  Direction, of change in physical system, 139;
+    in experience, 250, 264, 271 f., 323
+
+  Discrimination, sensory, 297
+
+  Distribution, of forces or processes, 108, 113, 121 f., 127, 135-144,
+        148, 182, 187, 190, 193 f., 204, 217 f., 226, 280;
+    of processes, 117
+
+  Dog, 323
+
+  Dominating impulse, 383
+
+  Dreaming, 275
+
+  Drives, 325
+
+  Drop, of water, 134 ff.
+
+  Dualists, 59, 261
+
+  Duncker, K., 394
+
+  “Dust cloud,” 70, 133
+
+  Dynamical, _see_ also Interaction
+
+  Dynamics, and order, 109 f., 111 ff., 117 ff., 127 ff., 133, 138 ff.,
+        140 ff., 152, 182 f., 192, 216, 220 ff., 226 ff., 271, 327
+
+  Dynamical explanation, of reproduction, 347
+
+  Dynamical interrelation, in total psychophysical field, 319 ff., 336,
+        349 ff., 361, 364, 370, 375, 380
+
+  Dynamical structure, in inner and overt behavior, 222, 248, 250
+
+  Dynamical unit, in experience and underlying physiological processes,
+        66
+
+  Dynamo-geometrical relations, of sensory processes, 226, 228 f., 233
+
+
+  Ebbinghaus, H., 283 f.
+
+  Effort, 358, 384
+
+  Effector organ, 98, 120, 179
+
+  von Ehrenfels, 187 ff., 214, 220, 255, 259, 264
+
+  Election, 111
+
+  Electric charge, 112 f., 280
+
+  Electric current, 27, 41, 120, 138, 140, 148
+
+  Electrolysis, 53 f., 185, 218
+
+  Electromagnetic, entities, 7
+
+  Electromotive phenomena, 218
+
+  Electrostatic forces, 111, 280
+
+  Elevation, feeling of, 253
+
+  Ellipse, 76, 80, 160
+
+  Embarrassment, 263, 265
+
+  Emotion, 193, 264
+
+  Empiricism, 118, 123, 153, 220, 232, 299, 313
+
+  Endocrinology, 19, 57
+
+  Energy, distribution of, 132
+
+  Enjoyment, 354, 360, 375 f.
+
+  Entropy, 28
+
+  Environment, 54, 57, 95, 134, 152, 173, 209, 219, 315 f., 320, 323,
+        327, 356, 377, 389
+
+  Envy, 238
+
+  Epistemology, 31 ff.
+
+  Equilibrium, 135, 140 n., 218
+
+  Erismann, 394
+
+  Euphoria, 253
+
+  Exact sciences, 13, 18
+
+  Experience, 24, 62 ff., 74, 85, 104, 164, 166, 177, 225, 251, 270,
+        272, 299, 351, 355;
+    blind, 364;
+    common, 375, 383;
+    depending upon, 359, 361, 370, 373;
+    direct, 8-39, 55, 58 ff., 67 ff., 84, 106 f., 129, 190, 203, 217,
+        235 f., 240, 269, 363, 373;
+    external, 321 ff.;
+    inner, 249, 253, 258, 260 ff., 265, 322;
+    and instinct, 388, 385;
+    kinesthetic, 167 ff., 212;
+    localization of non-visual, 233;
+    localization of, 103;
+    and insight, 372, 377, 385;
+    and meaning, 72, 81, 360;
+    naïve, 6, 86;
+    objective, 15, 21 ff., 60, 66 f., 71, 74, 83 ff., 105, 224, 243,
+        255, 259 ff., 319, 322, 326, 329;
+    actual and physiological processes, 67, 102, 115, 373 f.;
+    previous, 151, 153 f., 156, 205 f., 208 ff., 213 f., 220, 237, 285,
+        337, 354, 356, 365, 386;
+    punctiform, 191;
+    sensory, 73 ff., 85, 90 ff., 118 ff., 145 ff., 167, 176, 178, 215,
+        222 ff., 241 ff., 255, 266 f., 275, 288, 294, 327 ff., 351,
+        360, 382, 389;
+    subjective, 35, 40, 66 f., 235, 238, 241 ff., 264;
+    error, 176, 181, 195
+
+  Experiences, acoustic, 242, 246, 248;
+    accurate of physicist, 41;
+    genuine, 87, 95;
+    “irregular,” 91;
+    unusual versus naïve, 86 f.;
+    visual, 169, 205, 226 ff., 241, 246, 248, 252
+
+  Experiential, object, 36
+
+  Expression, _see_ facial
+
+  Extended areas, 147, 170, 188 f., 193, 297
+
+  Extension, 215
+
+  Eye movements, 75, 96
+
+  Eyes, 254 f.
+
+
+  Facial expression, 238
+
+  Fatigue, 319
+
+  Fear, fright, 21, 109, 249, 263, 266, 355 f., 379, 381 f.
+
+  Fechner, G. T., 16, 46
+
+  Feeling, of relief, 253, 356, 379, 387
+
+  Field of force, 390 f.
+
+  Figure, and ground, 219 f., 274;
+    gamma movement, 128
+
+  Figures, and memory, 310;
+    and reproduction, 314
+
+  Fixation point, 76, 324, 363
+
+  Fogelsonger, 316
+
+  Force, lines of, 324
+
+  Forces, 111 f., 121, 133 ff., 143 ff., 158
+
+  Form, constancy of, 80 ff., 123;
+    and experience, 207 f., 211 f., 275;
+    and meaning, 209;
+    property of whole, 219;
+    “real” as explanation of constancy of form, 81;
+    reality of, 195 ff., 205, 213 f., 273 f.;
+    as secondary quality, 6;
+    in time, 204, 214 f.;
+    -qualities, of circle, triangle, etc., 191
+
+  Forms, localization, 103
+
+  Frank, H., 221
+
+  von Frey, 128
+
+  Frings, 317 f.
+
+  Function, nervous and machine theory, 130 f.;
+    order of, 114, 118, 121
+
+  Functions, one way, 113, 116
+
+  Functionally homogeneous, 145
+
+  Functional, incompleteness in experience, 270;
+    interrelation, 171, 183, 204;
+    reality, of segregated wholes, 195, 197;
+    relations, of direct experience, 8 f.;
+    relationship, between experiential and physical object, 36;
+    scheme, of traditional nerve psychology, 344;
+    wholes, _see_ Wholes
+
+  Fundierte Inhalte, 191
+
+
+  Galileo, 32, 43, 109
+
+  Galvanometer, 29 ff.
+
+  Ganglionic fields, 143;
+    tissue, dynamical intercourse in, 132
+
+  Gatti, A., 320
+
+  Gelb and Goldstein, 169
+
+  Gelb and Granit, 220
+
+  Gestalt, meaning of, 191 f.;
+    analysis, 183;
+    primitive behavior, 216;
+    problem, 187;
+    psychology, 66, 97 n., 102, 130, 135, 148, 150 f., 168, 174, 182
+        ff., 219, 223, 258, 273, 287, 304, 311, 324, 350;
+    -qualitäten, 191, 192, 216;
+    theory, 140 n., 192, 202, 216, 223, 296, 297, 322
+
+  Gestalten, perception of, 174
+
+  Goethe, 192
+
+  Gottschaldt, 206 f.
+
+  Graz, school of, 190, 216
+
+  “Ground,” 202, 219 ff., 274
+
+  Group and grouping, 155, 158, 177, 183, 251, 259, 274 f., 277, 285,
+        289, 292, 294, 303 ff., 317, 321, 323, 327, 329, 351
+
+
+  Habit, 117, 273, 278 f., 301, 303, 315, 338, 342, 349, 366, 386 f.;
+    formation of, 16, 116, 296 f., 298, 388
+
+  Hand, as visual object, 227
+
+  Handwritings, 365
+
+  Harvey, discovery, 109
+
+  Hearing, distance in, 128
+
+  von Helmholtz, H., 77, 125, 241
+
+  Hemispheres, 141
+
+  Hering, E., 61, 63
+
+  Hertz, M., 158, 216, 306
+
+  von Hornbostel, E., 242 n.
+
+  Hume, 359, 367 ff., 377, 383
+
+  Hunger, inner experience, 7, 325 f.
+
+  Hunter, W. S., 159, 277
+
+  Huyghens, 32
+
+
+  “I,” 228, 230, 234
+
+  Idea, and action, 250, 366;
+    free, 237
+
+  Illusion, and memory, 72, 81
+
+  Illusions, optical, 78 f., 94 ff., 125
+
+  Image, 260, 270 f., 275
+
+  Images, _see also_ Retinal
+
+  Impulse, of withdrawal, 382
+
+  Indifferent network, of relations, 369 f.
+
+  Inertia, 134, 139
+
+  Inference, by analogy, 238, 241
+
+  Inhibition, in reproduction, 316 ff., 335, 341
+
+  Innervation, 18, 19, 258
+
+  Insight, 371 f., 376 ff., 391, 394
+
+  Instinct, 325, 388, 391
+
+  Intelligence, 16, 46 f., 49 f., 371, 394
+
+  Intensity, 165, 215
+
+  Interaction, dynamical, 135, 137, 140, 143 f., 281
+
+  Interest, 324
+
+  Interval, dead, 204
+
+  Introspection, 9 ff., 18 f., 25, 31, 55, 60, 69, 70-102 (chapter on),
+        103 ff., 114, 123, 133, 183, 350, 383
+
+  Ions, 54, 218
+
+  I Q, 47
+
+  Irradiation, of excitations, 98, 121 f.
+
+  Isolation, in sensory field, 95
+
+  Isolating conductors, as explanation of order, 131 f., 145
+
+
+  Jaspers, K., 394
+
+  James, W., 70, 101, 270, 369 f.
+
+  James-Lange, theory of Emotions, 245
+
+  Janet, P., 253
+
+  Joy, 12
+
+
+  Katz, D., 102
+
+  Kester, P., 128
+
+  Kinesthesis, 166 f., 233
+
+  Klages, L., 243
+
+  Koffka, K., 129, 300, 310, 394
+
+  Köhler, W., 69, 102, 147, 186, 194 n., 223, 394
+
+  Knowledge of other man’s mind, 257;
+    previous, 152, 155
+
+  von Kries, J., 343
+
+  Krueger, F., 193 n.
+
+  Kühn, 285 n.
+
+
+  Language, as special type of behavior, 18, 67 ff.;
+    primitive, 242
+
+  Lashley, K. S., 216
+
+  Laughing, 265
+
+  Layman, 349 f., 367 f., 372, 377, 380
+
+  Leading-tone, 222
+
+  Learning, in empiristic theory, 80 f., 104, 117 f., 366, 373, 386;
+    and meaning, 151, 365, 381 f., 391;
+    theory of 116, 193, 282-303, 316 ff., 329, 340
+
+  Lesion, of the brain, 169
+
+  Level, 272
+
+  Lewin, K., 330, 332 f., 338 ff., 348
+
+  Lewin and Karsten, 360 n.
+
+  Liebmann, S., 144
+
+  Light-waves, not organized, 174 f., 181, 257
+
+  Local arrangements, 132, 140;
+    processes, 115, 119, 121 f., 127, 129, 140, 146, 149, 182, 231;
+    sensory elements, 82, 96, 99, 118 f., 122, 125, 126, 147 f., 187,
+        189, 190, 193, 255;
+    stimulation, 95 ff., 99, 106, 118 f., 122, 124, 126, 176, 178, 187
+        f., 203, 276
+
+  Localization, external, 228;
+    geometrical in brain and nervous system, 225, 346;
+    in group, 306;
+    of hidden object, 309;
+    in space, 84, 93, 104, 215
+
+
+  Mach, E., 140, 187, 214
+
+  Machine-arrangements, and the organism, 117, 122, 131
+
+  Machine, explained, 108 ff., 133 f.;
+    theory, or conception, 110 f., 122, 126 ff., 141, 145 f., 149, 190,
+        194, 298 f., 344, 347, 377 ff., 385, 388
+
+  Magnet, deflection of, 41
+
+  Magnetism, 48
+
+  Map, as ambiguous figure, 196
+
+  McCarthy, 343 n.
+
+  Meaning of objects, 151 f., 173, 208, 265, 300
+
+  Meaning, as opposed to pure sensations, 72 f., 81 ff., 90 ff., 95
+        ff., 105, 129;
+    theory, 90 ff., 97, 103 ff., 123, 125, 149 f., 153 ff., 205, 213,
+        237, 299, 351
+
+  Meaningful material versus nonsense, 284, 286 ff.
+
+  Measurement, in psychology, 40, 49
+
+  Memory, and association, 278 f., 295;
+    in empiristic theory, 153 f.;
+    and organization, 315, 329, 332;
+    physiological theories, 273;
+    image, 7
+
+  von Meinong, A., 190
+
+  Melody, 204 f., 215, 275, 290, 360
+
+  Mental life, 9 f., 58, 214, 238, 240 f., 246, 336, 349, 378
+
+  Method, of behaviorism, 17;
+    in psychology, 38 ff., 43 f., 52;
+    of natural science, 20
+
+  Michotte, A., 320
+
+  Mind, and body, 231, 261;
+    relation to direct experience, 10
+
+  Molecules, 53, 112, 119, 138, 156, 158, 189, 272
+
+  Molecular forces, 143
+
+  Monkey, 308 f.
+
+  Moon, 320 f.
+
+  Morgenstern, C., 242
+
+  Morphogenesis, 130
+
+  Mosaic theory, 204, 280 f.
+
+  Motor melodies, 275;
+    phenomena, 96
+
+  Movement, seen, 84, 129, 192, 204, 249;
+    as secondary quality, 6;
+    of water, 134 f.;
+    co-ordination of, 392;
+    tendency to, 167, 390;
+    of extension, 128;
+    eye, 167 f., 179, 212
+
+  Movements, stroboscopic, 79, 128, 130;
+    overt bodily, 115, 166 f., 261, 392;
+    celestial, 114
+
+  Müller, G. E., 61 n. ff., 285
+
+  Müller-Lyer figure, 94, 96
+
+  Musical form, as temporal form, 204, 215
+
+  Music, understanding of, 257
+
+  Muscles, 245
+
+
+  Nagel, 283, 315
+
+  Nativism, 118, 123, 232
+
+  Natural sciences, 42, 279, 350, 378
+
+  Neighborhood, factor of, 281, 289 f.
+
+  Nervous activity, and all-or-none law, 58, 62;
+    mechanistic theory of, 98, 100, 102, 114, 116, 121, 126, 130, 257,
+        349, 377 f.;
+    new theory of, 123, 292;
+    field of force, 392;
+    processes, and experienced field, 374
+
+  “Nervousness,” 356, 380
+
+  Nervous system, 26, 49, 56 f., 97, 99, 116, 120, 125, 132, 141 f.,
+        174 f., 184, 257, 266, 269, 278, 280, 312, 315, 322, 344, 346
+        f., 350, 385 ff.
+
+  Network, nervous, 142 ff.;
+    of wires, 140
+
+  Newton, 32
+
+  Nietzsche, 234
+
+  Noise, comparison of intensity, 271
+
+  Nonsense syllables, 281 ff., 295, 315 ff., 332, 334, 338 ff.
+
+
+  Object-characters, 20, 25, 27, 71 f.
+
+  Object, of naïve experience, 6
+
+  Objects, physical, their influence on each other, 7
+
+  Observation, in laboratory and analytical, 40 f., 86, 94
+
+  Obstacles, 370, 393
+
+  Occipital lobes, 141
+
+  Oetjen, F., 215 n.
+
+  Oersted, 41
+
+  Ogden, R. M., 300
+
+  One-way street, 118, 378
+
+  Ontogenesis, gestalt in, 130, 194, 216
+
+  Optical center, lesions in, 169
+
+  Optic sector, 116, 346 f.
+
+  Order, dynamical, 131, 137, 140, 145, 149, 194;
+    enforced, 98, 122, 130, 133, 145, 337;
+    experienced, and physiological processes, 64 ff., 163, 203, 230,
+        248, 258, 326, 373 f., 376, 389;
+    in psychophysical relations, 115, 170 ff., 256;
+    logical, as opposed to experienced, 63;
+    spatial, 65, 225;
+    temporal, 65, 163
+
+  Organism, action of, 391;
+    not an isolated system, 140;
+    mechanistic theory of, 110, 119;
+    as quasi-machine, 381 n.;
+    as part of total saturation, 325 f.;
+    as dynamic system, 180
+
+  Organisms, and physical systems, 44 f., 56
+
+  Organization, 54, 122, 126 f., 149, 152, 158 n., 163 ff., 174 ff.,
+        191, 202 f., 208 ff., 217, 250, 256 ff., 267, 273 ff., 278, 283
+        ff., 289 ff., 300, 307 ff., 313 ff., 323, 326 ff., 340, 367,
+        370;
+    Bipolar, 323 ff.
+
+  Organized trace, 293, 314, 329
+
+
+  Parts, and wholes, 183, 209, 366
+
+  Path, of optimal conduction, 377
+
+  Perception, 9, 72, 195
+
+  Peripheral vision, 12, 27, 242
+
+  Peripheral conditions, of vision, 141
+
+  Persistency, 337
+
+  Physics, and order by dynamical interaction, 137 f., 324;
+    and direct experience, 29 ff., 35 ff., 178, 267;
+    and psychology, 29 ff., 41, 44, 48, 57, 146, 280, 376
+
+  Physical system, brain as, 227 f., 319;
+    classification of, 56, 112, 133 f.;
+    reality, 24 ff., 230, 239 f.
+
+  Physiological locus, confusion with sensory localization, 104
+
+  Physiological principles, common to Introspectionism and Behaviorism,
+        114
+
+  Physiological processes, as correlate of spatial order, 225, 227
+
+  Physiological processes, inferred from direct experience, 60 ff.
+
+  Physiological process, and stimulus distribution, 197
+
+  Physiological stress, as correlate of attitude, 184, 326 f.
+
+  Physiological trace, 272 f., 291, 347
+
+  Phylogenesis, 130 ff.
+
+  Pianist, example, 237, 257 f.
+
+  Pleasure, 260, 376
+
+  Poppelreuter, W., 348
+
+  Position, 215, 217
+
+  Potential, 325
+
+  Practice, 94
+
+  Pressure, 134, 330
+
+  Primary qualities, 7
+
+  Principle of congruence, in the systematic properties of direct
+        experience and its concomitant physiological processes, 61
+
+  Process, distribution of, 114, 127, 132, 134, 139, 182, 190, 225 f.,
+        273, 292, 311 f.;
+    underlying experience, 62, 269, 291, 321, 325;
+    properties of, 142;
+    of observing and material observed, 31
+
+  Processes, “Higher,” 216;
+    total, 107, 141 ff.;
+    sensory, 86, 119, 133, 162, 278, 280 f., 298 f., 350, 374
+
+  Properties, of more extended fields, 188;
+    surface--of physical objects, 172;
+    of situation determining behavior, 350, 370
+
+  “Psycho-physical axioms,” 61
+
+  Psycho-physical field, 215, 232, 266
+
+  Purpose, 370
+
+  Puzzle-picture, 171, 201
+
+
+  Qualitative, observation, 36, 41 ff., 44, 50, 52 f.
+
+  Qualitative, types of behavior, 39 f.
+
+  Quality, 215
+
+  Quantitative measurement, 36, 38 f., 42 f., 46, 48, 50 f., 53
+
+  Quantum theory, 132
+
+
+  Rays, 175
+
+  Reaction, delayed, 159, 276, 304 f., 306, 308, 309;
+    to results of organization, 180
+
+  Relative reactions, 304
+
+  Recall, 301, 331 ff.
+
+  Receptor organs, 98, 345
+
+  Recognition, 267, 274, 301
+
+  Reflex action, 55 ff., 98, 298, 377, 381, 385 ff.
+
+  _Reforzando_, 249
+
+  Regularity, change towards, 310
+
+  Regular, as a form quality, 191
+
+  Relations, logical between local stimuli, 203, 358, 369;
+    spatial, 227, 320, 321
+
+  Relative distance, 157, 165
+
+  Relations, constancy of, and constancy hypothesis, 97 n.
+
+  Relation, in successive comparison, 271
+
+  Relative properties, determining organization, 121, 127, 138, 147,
+        182, 202, 257, 280 f., 294, 311
+
+  Relief, 387
+
+  Repetition, 334
+
+  Reproduction, 81 f., 116 f., 121, 193, 212 ff., 273 ff., 282 f., 291
+        ff., 300, 301-348 (chapter on), 349, 366
+
+  Repulsion, 120
+
+  “Restless,” 264
+
+  Retention, 301
+
+  Retinal pattern, and phenomenal pattern, 142 ff.
+
+  Retinal points, central projection of, 141
+
+  Retina, chemical reactions on Retina as conditions of organized
+        vision, 141
+
+  Retinal, position and localization, 84;
+    image, perspective of, 76;
+    geometry of R. stimulation, 115, 124 f., 133, 166, 177, 194 ff.,
+        200 f., 257
+
+  Richter, C. P., 39, 43
+
+  _Ritardando_, 248, 256
+
+  Rhythm, 204 f., 319
+
+  Röntgen, 42
+
+
+  _Sachlicher Zusammenhang_, 354
+
+  Sander, W., 223
+
+  Scientific criticism, 5
+
+  Scientific effort, least, 130
+
+  Scientific method, 12, 30, 53, 267
+
+  Scholz, W., 128
+
+  Schumann, F., 79 n.
+
+  Searching, 357
+
+  “Secondary Qualities,” 6
+
+  Segregation, 149 ff., 151, 154, 156, 158, 163 f., 167 f., 172 ff.,
+        182, 187, 191 ff., 202 f., 212, 220, 225, 231, 239, 251, 263,
+        267, 274, 327, 369, 371, 374
+
+  Self, 319 ff., 336, 351 f., 361, 374, 377, 379, 389 f.
+
+  Selz, O., 300
+
+  Sensory discrimination, 296
+
+  Sensory dynamics, 170 f.;
+    field, 119, 135, 140 n., 151 f., 158, 167, 173, 177, 184, 187, 191,
+        193 f., 212 ff., 281, 327, 350 f., 391
+
+  Sense organs, 177, 347
+
+  Sensory organization, 163, 165 f., 170 ff., 185, 187, 215 f.
+
+  Sensation, 71 ff., 82, 84 f., 86, 88, 91, 93, 98, 103, 129, 153, 158,
+        163, 187, 190 f., 214, 351
+
+  Sexual behavior, 325 f.
+
+  Shadow, 80, 91
+
+  Shepard, J. F., 316
+
+  Size, constancy of, 74, 81 ff., 86, 93, 105 f., 133
+
+  Soap bubble, 56, 119
+
+  Social forces, as causes of grouping, 328
+
+  Social contagion, 266
+
+  Social psychology, 234, 328
+
+  Solar system, 138
+
+  Sorrow, 12
+
+  Soul, 10, 110
+
+  Sound, localization of, 103, 224, 232;
+    waves, not dynamically organized, 256 ff.
+
+  Space, physical, 115;
+    sensory, 232, 262 ff.
+
+  Speed, seen and retinal, 93
+
+  Spheres, crystal, 109
+
+  Spider, 354, 375
+
+  Stability of distribution, 139, 148
+
+  Standardization, 52
+
+  Stars, constellations of, 154
+
+  “States beyond,” physiological, 271
+
+  Stern, W., 215 n.
+
+  Stimuli, as indifferent mosaic, 257;
+    constellation of, 106, 125, 180, 203, 215, 258 f., 264, 275, 311 f.
+
+  Stimulus, and response, 120, 166, 179, 217;
+    error, 176
+
+  Stimulation, under the Constancy Hypothesis, 93, 127, 133, 298
+
+  Straight line, machine theory for perception of, 204 n.
+
+  Stress, 140, 326, 338, 357, 370, 375
+
+  Striving, 193
+
+  Structure, of two grays, 217;
+    supralocal, 203, 218
+
+  Sub-wholes, 157, 183, 201, 205, 282 f., 313, 318 f.
+
+  Subjective phenomena, 21 f., 24 f., 265
+
+  Subjectivity, genetic, 24 f.
+
+  Successive comparison, 271, 273, 304
+
+  Surface tension, 48, 158
+
+  Synopses, 387
+
+
+  Task, 330 ff., 339
+
+  Tendency, 330, 370, 380 f., 384, 389, 390
+
+  Temporal organization, 164, 258
+
+  Tension, 250 f., 364
+
+  Ternus, J., 130 n.
+
+  Thing, one, 129, 155
+
+  “Things,” 21 ff., 84, 219 f., 224, 230
+
+  Thinking, 19, 83, 193, 244
+
+  Time, experience, similar to space experience, 163, 289;
+    physiological correlate of experienced time, 65
+
+  Tinklepaugh, O. L., 277 n., 308
+
+  Togetherness, 361
+
+  Tonal fusion, 124, 127
+
+  Topographical, conditions and arrangements, 112 ff., 133 f., 138,
+        140, 146, 347
+
+  Total field, 320, 324, 327, 329, 332, 336, 343, 350, 352 f., 358,
+        361, 367, 371 f., 376, 378 ff., 389
+
+  Touch, 128, 162, 220, 231, 242, 354
+
+  Traces, 278, 291 ff., 302, 304, 307, 309 ff., 315
+
+  Training, 207, 303
+
+  Transposition, 214, 216 ff., 303
+
+  Trial and error, 177
+
+
+  Understanding, of others, 238, 240, 245, 259 ff.
+
+  Unknown something, 152 f.
+
+  “Units,” retinal, 177;
+    _see_ segregation
+
+  Unrest, 110
+
+  Usnadze, 242 n.
+
+
+  Van der Veldt, 275
+
+  Verbal report, 69
+
+  Vector, 134, 211
+
+  Visual space, 225 f., 232
+
+  Visual, form, 197 ff., 202, 208, 212 f., 328
+
+  Visual depth, 174, 194
+
+  Vision, form in V. and touch, 162;
+    in birds and humans, 159;
+    localization in, 103, 128;
+    order in, 114 f.
+
+  Visual processes, connection with other sensory processes, 116
+
+  Visual units, corresponding to physical objects, 172, 177
+
+  Visual organization, _see_ organization
+
+  Visual segregation, _see_ segregation
+
+  Visceral organs, 19, 245
+
+  Visual field, 84, 104, 115, 129, 140, 142, 144, 146, 149, 167, 196,
+        201, 203, 212, 220, 244, 274, 320, 324
+
+  Vitalism, 114, 118, 146
+
+
+  Watson, J. B., 52, 252, 267, 323, 382
+
+  Weber’s law, 16
+
+  Weiss, A. T., 34
+
+  Werner, H., 310 n.
+
+  Wertheimer, M., 129, 130 n., 147, 150 n., 157, 163, 186, 215 n., 223,
+        394
+
+  Whitehead, A. W., 394
+
+  Witasek, S., 190
+
+  Whole, functional, 106 f., 119, 141, 148, 157, 182, 263, 269, 270,
+        292, 295, 311, 336, 343;
+    and form, 200 f., 205, 208 f., 209;
+    and memory, 300, 303;
+    organized, 288, 294, 300, 311, 337
+
+  Wholes, empiristic explanation of, 158 n.;
+    extended, 126, 156, 169;
+    motor, 170;
+    specific properties of, 221 f., 242, 253, 256, 259;
+    segregated, _see_ Segregation;
+    preferred, 158, 209;
+    primitive, 161 f., 216 f.;
+    _see also_ Sub-wholes
+
+  Warmth, as general quality, 241
+
+  Words, applying to subjective and objective experiences equally, 243
+
+  World, of direct experience, 5, 7, 23, 25, 86;
+    physical, 6, 8, 10, 20, 22 f., 25 f., 33, 35, 36, 41, 60, 115, 132
+        f.
+
+  Wolf, F., 310
+
+  Wundt, W., 79 n.
+
+
+  Yarbrough, J. N., 304, 307, 309
+
+  Yerkes, R. M., 278
+
+
+  Zeigarnik, B., 330, 332
+
+
+
+
+
+FOOTNOTES
+
+
+[1] It seems more cautious to talk about direct experience than about
+“consciousness.” For some people consciousness is rather a function
+by or in which we become aware of “immediate experience.” In my
+terminology, if some one has a “feeling of becoming aware,” this is
+only _one special case_ of direct experience.
+
+[2] The opposition between introspectionism and behaviorism discussed
+in this chapter is the opposition between those who use and those
+who reject the observation of direct experience. In Chapter III
+introspectionism as a special interpretation of the use of direct
+experience will be discussed.
+
+[3] By the way, the same warning applies to the relation between my
+organism as a physical system and “my body” as I have it in direct
+experience. Obviously “my body” is the outcome of certain special
+processes in my physical organism--started in the eyes, muscles, skin,
+etc.--exactly as the chair before me is the final product of other
+special processes in the same physical organism. And if the chair is
+seen “before me,” the “me” of this phrase means my experienced body,
+of course, not my organism as an object of the physical world. Even
+accredited psychologists do not always seem to be clear about this
+point. Later on we shall come back to it.
+
+[4] Cf. C. P. Richter, _Animal Behavior and Internal Drives. The
+Quarterly Review of Biology_, II, p. 307, 1927.
+
+[5] If it can be demonstrated more generally that the tests measure
+“speed” primarily--as Boring and Teak have found in their subjects--the
+value of the method would be more restricted than I have here supposed.
+
+[6] Cf. G. E. Müller, _Zeitschrift für Psychologie, 14_, p. 189.
+
+[7] _Loc. cit._
+
+[8] Cf. Chapter VI.
+
+[9] The German word for “eagle.”
+
+[10] This argument has been used by Wundt and Schumann.
+
+[11] _Archiv f. d. ges. Psychol., 36_, 1917.
+
+[12] Cf. J. F. Brown, _Psycholog. Forschung, 10_, 1927.
+
+[13] Cf. v. Kries, _Allg. Sinnesphysiologie_.
+
+[14] This is the famous constancy hypothesis. Some introspectionists
+have said that _gestalt_ psychology, as any science must, has also to
+acknowledge certain constant relations between given conditions and
+subsequent effects. Quite! We do not argue against constant relations
+existing between conditions and results in general, but only against a
+constant relation between _local_ stimulation and _local_ experience.
+For brevity’s sake we call that “the” constancy hypothesis.
+
+[15] _Optische Untersuchungen am Schimpansen und am Haushuhn. Abhandl.
+d. Preuss. Akad. d. Wiss._, 1915.
+
+[16] _Op. cit._ and Frank, _Psychol. Forsch., 7_, 1926; _10_, 1927.
+Beyrl, _Zeitschr. f. Psychol., 100_, 1926.
+
+[17] Among the first we may count those anatomical arrangements which,
+though not ready in embryonic life and at the time of birth, will
+develop to their final form by maturation.
+
+[18] If I say that “attitude” will sometimes have an influence upon
+sensory experience, this statement does not mean, that “mental power”
+can change the sensory field arbitrarily. First of all, strictly
+speaking, it is not the attitude, as an experience, which changes the
+sensory facts; the physiological process underlying it changes the
+sensory process. Also, such a change is not produced arbitrarily;
+it necessarily follows definite antecedents. Furthermore, natural
+objective experience does not yield to all slight changes of attitude.
+Apart from introspection our attitude will not tend radically to alter
+sensory experience. Some very important exceptions will be considered
+later on.
+
+[19] _Zeitschrift für Psychologie, 61_, 1912.
+
+[20] Benussi has contributed to our knowledge of these problems by
+excellent experimental work. His investigation of similar facts in the
+field of touch has been mentioned above. Recently certain extremely
+important properties of stroboscopic movement have been investigated by
+Wertheimer and Ternus (_Psycholog. Forschung, 7_, 1926).
+
+[21] I am neglecting here the influence of inert velocities which may
+be neglected indeed in all discussion of the nervous system.
+
+[22] The reader is asked not to judge the physical side of _gestalt_
+theory on the basis only of this short report. The concept of
+equilibrium is less fundamental in biology than is that of dynamics.
+But the _direction_ of dynamics cannot be defined without it.
+Furthermore, we are not allowed to treat the sensory field (or even the
+organism) as though it were an isolated system. Therefore the laws of
+dynamics do not apply here in their simplest form.
+
+[23] _Psycholog. Forschung, 9_, 1927.
+
+[24] It is well known in photometry that without differences of
+brightness figures lose their definite form by diffusion into the
+ground.
+
+[25] If the surrounding field is not homogeneous the symmetry of the
+circle will be distorted as in the well-known illusion in which two
+lateral vertical lines make the circle oblate without, of course,
+changing the retinal image. A number of other illusions illustrate the
+same principle.
+
+[26] _Psycholog. Forschung, 4_, 1923.
+
+[27] One form of empiristic explanation would say that we have learnt
+to regard as wholes whatever always moves together. Wertheimer has
+pointed out that, here, we have rather to do with one more principle
+of sensory segregation and organization: when some parts of the field
+begin to move at the same time and in a somewhat uniform way, they will
+become one moving whole at once and _ipso facto_.
+
+[28] _Zeitschrift für vergleichende Physiologie, 7_, 1928.
+
+[29] _Zeitschrift für die gesamte Neurologie und Psychiatrie, 41_, 1918.
+
+[30] One chapter of _Die physischen Gestalten in Ruhe und im
+stationären Zustand_ has the title: “Denn was innen, das ist aussen.”
+Should these words of Goethe have produced the misapprehension? Who
+reads the chapter will see at once that that title refers to the
+similarity between sensory experience and the physiological processes
+accompanying it, not to the relationship between organic processes and
+the environment (cf. § 181).
+
+[31] Not all subjects are equally suitable for this experiment.
+
+[32] There is some suspicion that the color process, mainly as a
+chemical affair, may even _follow_ other more physical sides of the
+whole dynamical event on some occasions. In an electrolyte some
+chemical reaction at the electrodes may begin after the distribution of
+current is established throughout. Similarly, we need not see colors
+or differences of color in order to experience definite results of
+dynamical self-distribution.
+
+[33] In the theory of F. Krueger, rather the opposite view was held
+originally under the influence of von Ehrenfels and Cornelius.
+Recently, however, the concept of _gestalt_ in our meaning of the word
+is given more attention by Krueger.
+
+[34] Köhler, _Gestaltprobleme und Anfänge einer Gestalttheorie_.
+Jahresberichte über die gesamte Physiologie, herausgeg. von Rona,
+Berlin, 1924.
+
+[35] Of course, even this expression is not justified. There is no
+“line” unified and segregated _as such_ in the mosaic of retinal
+stimuli. There is not more than a definite series of spots, which
+qualitatively are stimulated in a manner different from their neighbors.
+
+[36] Under certain abnormal conditions both forms may be seen at the
+same time.
+
+[37] _Visuell wahrgenommene Figuren_, Kopenhagen, Berlin, London, 1921.
+
+[38] Once, Bühler tried to give an explanation of at least one very
+characteristic form, viz., the straight line. As he assumed that all
+retinal points which form a straight line are connected with each other
+in a special manner anatomically and that, therefore, the straight
+line is something specifically determined, his hypothesis has the
+character of a machine theory. I do not think that this is the way
+in which we may hope to solve our problem. There are a great many
+particularly characteristic forms besides the straight line. Shall we
+assume for each of them a preëxisting anatomical apparatus? or rather,
+a great many for each single form, since it may be projected upon
+many different parts of the retina? If not, “form” must be explained
+_dynamically_ in general, and the most characteristic or regular forms
+must be explained by the special regularity of dynamics occurring under
+appropriate conditions.
+
+[39] _Psychol. Forsch., 8_, 1926. Figures 11-13 are reproduced from
+Gottschaldt’s paper.
+
+[40] We may remark however that, for adults, one more condition must
+be fulfilled if we wish to transpose, without altering, specific
+form: most forms show a changed aspect _as_ forms when they are
+turned around, for instance, upside down. This fact reveals a curious
+anisotropy of the visual field, which does not seem to exist in early
+childhood (Cf. W. Stern, _Zschr. f. angew. Psychol._, 1909, and F.
+Oetjen, _Zschr. f. Psychol., 71_, 1915). On the other hand, Wertheimer
+has laid stress upon the point that, for a given form, not all
+relations of stimulation are equally important. Some of them may be
+changed considerably without any remarkable effect upon the actual form.
+
+[41] _Die physischen Gestalten in Ruhe und im stationären Zustand_, pp.
+230, 231.
+
+[42] Obviously it does not matter in this connection whether or not
+this localization, for instance of sounds in relation to visual
+objects, be _correct_ in all cases. If it is _not_ correct, then
+precisely the fact that we are able to state and measure the error is
+in itself a proof that the two appear in the same space.
+
+[43] The boundary between “ourselves” and objective experience around
+us is not altogether sharp and constant. Experiences of touch, for
+instance, are rather variable in this respect. Sometimes they are felt
+as things and their properties; but they _may_ also be experienced as
+“subjective.”
+
+[44] Usnadze, _Psychologische Forschung, 5_, p. 24 f., 1924.
+
+[45] von Hornbostel, _Festschrift Meinhof_, 1927.
+
+[46] L. Klages, _Vom Wesen des Bewusstseins_, Leipzig, 1921.
+
+[47] _Psychologies of 1925_, pp. 52 and 54, Clark University Press.
+
+[48] In this case there is a complication, since weather influences our
+physical body and its nervous system, apart from our sensory experience
+of the weather.
+
+[49] We may say, then, that the second noise has a definite rôle or
+property which belongs to it as to the second member of a pair (cf.
+Chapter VI).
+
+[50] _Psychologische Forschung, 4_, 1923.
+
+[51] _L’Apprentissage du mouvement et l’automatisme_, Louvain, Paris,
+1928.
+
+[52] Becher, _Gehirn und Seele_, Heidelberg, 1911.
+
+[53] Or in the organization of a larger whole, as O. L. Tinklepaugh has
+shown (_The Journal of Compar. Psychol., 8_, 1928).
+
+[54] Cf. the schemes given by Frings, _Arch. f. d. ges. Psychol., 30_,
+p. 430 f., 1914.
+
+[55] _Arch. f. d. ges. Psychol., 23_, p. 156 f., 1912.
+
+[56] Kühn, _Zeitschrift für Psychologie, 68_, 1914. Also Poppelreuter,
+_Zeitschr. f. Psychol., 61_, 1912.
+
+[57] G. E. Müller, _Abriss der Psychologie_, p. 25, Göttingen, 1924.
+
+[58] _The Ped. Seminary, 32_, p. 681, 1925.
+
+[59] Here as always when I talk about animals I use terms like “seeing”
+for simplicity’s sake. Whether or not the chick experiences a visual
+field or anything else, the terms have a definite functional meaning in
+which alone I am interested.
+
+[60] _The Journal of Animal Behavior, 7_, p. 87 ff., 1917.
+
+[61] Something of the kind has been done in the meantime by Mr.
+Tinklepaugh insofar as his “substitution method” is an excellent
+means for studying certain properties of the traces. (_The Journal
+of Comparative Psychology, 8_, p. 224 ff., 1928.) Cf. also _Psychol.
+Forsch., I_, p. 10, 1921.
+
+[62] _Psychol. Forsch., I_, p. 333 ff., 1922. Cf. also Werner, _Ztschr.
+f. Psychol., 94_, 1924.
+
+[63] _Psychol. Review, 20_, 1913.
+
+[64] _Arch. f. d. ges. Psychol., 30_, 1914. These experiments were
+planned by Bühler.
+
+[65] It will be the theme of the last chapter.
+
+[66] Cf. _Psychologische Forschung, 9_, 1927.
+
+[67] This means that if the average person remembered n finished tasks
+he remembered 90 per cent. more unfinished ones; that is, n + 90/100 n.
+
+[68] In passing we may remark that, here at least, a relationship
+becomes discernible between a result of experimental psychology and
+Freudian theory.
+
+[69] _Psychologische Forschung, 1_ and _2_, 1922. Somewhat similar
+experiments had been done before by Poppelreuter (_Zeitschrift für
+Psychologie, 61_, 1912), who was also the first to bring forward the
+criticism mentioned in the last paragraph.
+
+[70] _Op. cit._
+
+[71] From these results it would follow that we are not able directly
+to measure conation by antagonistic association, as Ach has proposed.
+
+[72] I have not yet been able to see McCarthy’s book _The Measurement
+of Conation_ (Chicago, 1926). From what I have heard about it, it would
+seem to be a highly valuable contribution to the problems discussed in
+this chapter.
+
+[73] _Gehirn und Seele_, 1911. Lashley has done similar experiments
+with rats. I can confirm his findings: after learning certain visual
+discriminations with one eye blindfolded, a chick will react according
+to the new habit when, afterwards, the other eye is blindfolded.
+Becher’s experiments, however, still seem to me to be more conclusive
+anatomically.
+
+[74] I have not been able to find an adequate translation of the German
+adjective _sachlich_ in this connection. “Intrinsic” would come near to
+it, perhaps.
+
+[75] Lewin and Karsten, _Psychol. Forschung, 10_, 1927.
+
+[76] In some of Plato’s discussions about the properties of the truly
+real world, the same tendency is quite obvious.
+
+[77] _The Meaning of Truth_, Preface.
+
+[78] _Some Problems of Philosophy_, p. 213.
+
+[79] _A Pluralistic Universe_, p. 376.
+
+[80] Since James’ time this view has been defended by several authors
+whose names will be found in the bibliography at the end of this
+chapter.
+
+[81] For brevity’s sake the term “self” is applied here, though for
+more correct expression I should say: “the actual process corresponding
+to the self in actual experience.”
+
+[82] I do not forget, of course, that subordinate parts of our organism
+will show reactions, externally similar to those described, though
+belonging to the reflex type of movement. Stimulated by a prick, the
+foot will be withdrawn by reflex. In no case would this fact create
+an objection against the theory of insight-reaction. In some of its
+activities the organism is doubtlessly similar to a very practical
+machine; at the same time in others, and most of all those in which it
+behaves as a whole, direct dynamics may decide what happens.
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber’s notes
+
+
+In plain text, superscript is indicated with a caret: A^1; and
+subscript with an underscore followed by braces: H_{2}O. Italic text is
+surrounded by underscores.
+
+Figures have been moved from mid-paragraph to after the first paragraph
+that mentions them.
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 79014 ***