I wish now to continue the description of the peculiarities of the
stream of consciousness by asking whether we can in any intelligible way
assign its _functions_.
It has two functions that are obvious: it leads to knowledge, and it
leads to action.
Can we say which of these functions is the more essential?
An old historic divergence of opinion comes in here. Popular belief has
always tended to estimate the worth of a man's mental processes by their
effects upon his practical life. But philosophers have usually cherished
a different view. "Man's supreme glory," they have said, "is to be a
_rational_ being, to know absolute and eternal and universal truth. The
uses of his intellect for practical affairs are therefore subordinate
matters. 'The theoretic life' is his soul's genuine concern." Nothing
can be more different in its results for our personal attitude than to
take sides with one or the other of these views, and emphasize the
practical or the theoretical ideal. In the latter case, abstraction from
the emotions and passions and withdrawal from the strife of human
affairs would be not only pardonable, but praiseworthy; and all that
makes for quiet and contemplation should be regarded as conducive to the
highest human perfection. In the former, the man of contemplation would
be treated as only half a human being, passion and practical resource
would become once more glories of our race, a concrete victory over this
earth's outward powers of darkness would appear an equivalent for any
amount of passive spiritual culture, and conduct would remain as the
test of every education worthy of the name.
It is impossible to disguise the fact that in the psychology of our own
day the emphasis is transferred from the mind's purely rational
function, where Plato and Aristotle, and what one may call the whole
classic tradition in philosophy had placed it, to the so long neglected
practical side. The theory of evolution is mainly responsible for this.
Man, we now have reason to believe, has been evolved from infra-human
ancestors, in whom pure reason hardly existed, if at all, and whose
mind, so far as it can have had any function, would appear to have been
an organ for adapting their movements to the impressions received from
the environment, so as to escape the better from destruction.
Consciousness would thus seem in the first instance to be nothing but a
sort of super-added biological perfection,--useless unless it prompted
to useful conduct, and inexplicable apart from that consideration.
Deep in our own nature the biological foundations of our consciousness
persist, undisguised and undiminished. Our sensations are here to
attract us or to deter us, our memories to warn or encourage us, our
feelings to impel, and our thoughts to restrain our behavior, so that on
the whole we may prosper and our days be long in the land. Whatever of
transmundane metaphysical insight or of practically inapplicable
æsthetic perception or ethical sentiment we may carry in our interiors
might at this rate be regarded as only part of the incidental excess of
function that necessarily accompanies the working of every complex
machine.
I shall ask you now--not meaning at all thereby to close the theoretic
question, but merely because it seems to me the point of view likely to
be of greatest practical use to you as teachers--to adopt with me, in
this course of lectures, the biological conception, as thus expressed,
and to lay your own emphasis on the fact that man, whatever else he may
be, is primarily a practical being, whose mind is given him to aid in
adapting him to this world's life.
In the learning of all matters, we have to start with some one deep
aspect of the question, abstracting it as if it were the only aspect;
and then we gradually correct ourselves by adding those neglected other
features which complete the case. No one believes more strongly than I
do that what our senses know as 'this world' is only one portion of our
mind's total environment and object. Yet, because it is the primal
portion, it is the _sine qua non_ of all the rest. If you grasp the facts
about it firmly, you may proceed to higher regions undisturbed. As our
time must be so short together, I prefer being elementary and
fundamental to being complete, so I propose to you to hold fast to the
ultra-simple point of view.
The reasons why I call it so fundamental can be easily told.
First, human and animal psychology thereby become less discontinuous. I
know that to some of you this will hardly seem an attractive reason,
but there are others whom it will affect.
Second, mental action is conditioned by brain action, and runs parallel
therewith. But the brain, so far as we understand it, is given us for
practical behavior. Every current that runs into it from skin or eye or
ear runs out again into muscles, glands, or viscera, and helps to adapt
the animal to the environment from which the current came. It therefore
generalizes and simplifies our view to treat the brain life and the
mental life as having one fundamental kind of purpose.
Third, those very functions of the mind that do not refer directly to
this world's environment, the ethical utopias, æsthetic visions,
insights into eternal truth, and fanciful logical combinations, could
never be carried on at all by a human individual, unless the mind that
produced them in him were also able to produce more practically useful
products. The latter are thus the more essential, or at least the more
primordial results.
Fourth, the inessential 'unpractical' activities are themselves far more
connected with our behavior and our adaptation to the environment than
at first sight might appear. No truth, however abstract, is ever
perceived, that will not probably at some time influence our earthly
action. You must remember that, when I talk of action here, I mean
action in the widest sense. I mean speech, I mean writing, I mean yeses
and noes, and tendencies 'from' things and tendencies 'toward' things,
and emotional determinations; and I mean them in the future as well as
in the immediate present. As I talk here, and you listen, it might seem
as if no action followed. You might call it a purely theoretic process,
with no practical result. But it _must_ have a practical result. It
cannot take place at all and leave your conduct unaffected. If not
to-day, then on some far future day, you will answer some question
differently by reason of what you are thinking now. Some of you will be
led by my words into new veins of inquiry, into reading special books.
These will develop your opinion, whether for or against. That opinion
will in turn be expressed, will receive criticism from others in your
environment, and will affect your standing in their eyes. We cannot
escape our destiny, which is practical; and even our most theoretic
faculties contribute to its working out.
These few reasons will perhaps smooth the way for you to acquiescence
in my proposal. As teachers, I sincerely think it will be a sufficient
conception for you to adopt of the youthful psychological phenomena
handed over to your inspection if you consider them from the point of
view of their relation to the future conduct of their possessor.
Sufficient at any rate as a first conception and as a main conception.
You should regard your professional task as if it consisted chiefly and
essentially in _training the pupil to behavior_; taking behavior, not in
the narrow sense of his manners, but in the very widest possible sense,
as including every possible sort of fit reaction on the circumstances
into which he may find himself brought by the vicissitudes of life.
The reaction may, indeed, often be a negative reaction. _Not_ to speak,
_not_ to move, is one of the most important of our duties, in certain
practical emergencies. "Thou shalt refrain, renounce, abstain"! This
often requires a great effort of will power, and, physiologically
considered, is just as positive a nerve function as is motor discharge.