There is a petrified philosophy in language, and if we examine the most
ancient word for "name," we find it is _nâman_ in Sanskrit, _nomen_ in
Latin, _namô_ in Gothic. This _nâman_ stands for _gnâman_, and is
derived from the root _gnâ_, to know, and meant originally that by which
we know a thing.
And how do we know things?
The first step toward the real knowledge, a step which, however small in
appearance, separates man forever from all other animals, is _the naming
of a thing_, or the making a thing knowable. All naming is
classification, bringing the individual under the general; and whatever
we know, whether empirically or scientifically, we know it by means of
our general ideas.
At the very point where man parts company with the brute world, at the
first flash of reason as the manifestation of the light within us, there
we see the true genesis of language. Analyze any word you like and you
will find that it expresses a general idea peculiar to the individual to
whom the name belongs. What is the meaning of moon? The measurer. What
is the meaning of sun? The begetter. What is the meaning of earth? The
ploughed.
If the serpent is called in Sanskrit _sarpa_, it is because it was
conceived under the general idea of creeping, an idea expressed by the
root _srip_.
An ancient word for man was the Sanskrit _marta_, the Greek _brotos_,
the Latin _mortalis_. _Marta_ means "he who dies," and it is remarkable
that, where everything else was changing, fading, and dying, this should
have been chosen as the distinguishing name for man.
There were many more names for man, as there were many names for all
things in ancient languages. Any feature that struck the observing mind
as peculiarly characteristic could be made to furnish a new name. In
common Sanskrit dictionaries we find 5 words for hand, 11 for light, 15
for cloud, 20 for moon, 26 for snake, 33 for slaughter, 35 for fire, 37
for sun. The sun might be called the bright, the warm, the golden, the
preserver, the destroyer, the wolf, the lion, the heavenly eye, the
father of light and life. Hence that superabundance of synonyms in
ancient dialects, and hence that struggle for life carried on among
these words, which led to the destruction of the less strong, the less
fertile, the less happy words, and ended in the triumph of _one_ as the
recognized and proper name for every object in every language. On a very
small scale this process of natural selection, or, as it would better be
called, elimination, may still be watched even in modern languages, that
is to say, even in languages so old and stricken in years as English and
French. What it was at the first burst of dialects we can only gather
from such isolated cases as when von Hammer counts 5,744 words all
relating to the camel.
The fact that every word is originally a predicate--that names, though
signs of individual conceptions, are all, without exception, derived
from general ideas--is one of the most important discoveries in the
science of language. It was known before that language is the
distinguishing characteristic of man; it was known also that the having
of general ideas is that which puts a perfect distinction betwixt man
and brutes; but that these two were only different expressions of the
same fact was not known till the theory of roots had been established as
preferable to the theories both of onomatopoicia and of interjections.
But, though our modern philosophy did not know it, the ancient poets and
framers of language must have known it. For in Greek, language is
_logos_, but _logos_ means also reason, and _alogon_ was chosen as the
name and the most proper name, for brute. No animal, so far as we know,
thinks and speaks except man. Language and thought are inseparable.
Words without thought are dead sounds; thoughts without words are
nothing. To think is to speak low; to speak is to think aloud. The word
is the thought incarnate.
What are the two problems left unsettled at the end of the _Science of
Language_: "How do mere cries become phonetic types?" and "How can
sensations be changed into concepts?" What are these two, if taken
together, but the highest problem of all philosophy, viz., "What is the
origin of reason?"
3. Writing as a Form of Communication[144]
The earliest stages of writing were those in which pictographic forms
were used; that is, a direct picture was drawn upon the writing surface,
reproducing as nearly as possible the kind of impression made upon the
observer by the object itself. To be sure, the drawing used to represent
the object was not an exact reproduction or full copy of the object, but
it was a fairly direct image. The visual memory image was thus aroused
by a direct perceptual appeal to the eye. Anyone could read a document
written in this pictograph form, if he had ever seen the objects to
which the pictures referred. There was no special relation between the
pictures or visual forms at this stage of development and the sounds
used in articulate language. Concrete examples of such writing are seen
in early monuments, where the moon is represented by the crescent, a
king by the drawing of a man wearing a crown.
The next stage of development in writing began when the pictographic
forms were reduced in complexity to the simplest possible lines. The
reduction of the picture to a few sketchy lines depended upon the
growing ability of the reader to contribute the necessary
interpretation. All that was needed in the figure was something which
would suggest the full picture to the mind. Indeed, it is probably true
that the full picture was not needed, even in the reader's
consciousness. Memory images are usually much simplified reproductions
of the perceptual facts. In writing we have a concrete expression of
this tendency of memory to lose its full reproductive form and to become
reduced to the point of the most meager contents for conscious thought.
The simplification of the written forms is attained very early, and is
seen even in the figures which are used by savage tribes. Thus, to
represent the number of an enemy's army, it is not necessary to draw
full figures of the forms of the enemy; it is enough if single straight
lines are drawn with some brief indication, perhaps at the beginning of
the series of lines, to show that these stand each for an individual
enemy. This simplification of the drawing leaves the written symbol with
very much larger possibilities of entering into new relations in the
mind of the reader. Instead, now, of being a specific drawing related to
a specific object, it invites by its simple character a number of
different interpretations. A straight line, for example, can represent
not only the number of an enemy's army but it can represent also the
number of sheep in a flock, or the number of tents in a village, or
anything else which is capable of enumeration. The use of a straight
line for these various purposes stimulates new mental developments. This
is shown by the fact that the development of the idea of the number
relation, as distinguished from the mass of possible relations in which
an object may stand, is greatly facilitated by this general written
symbol for numbers. The intimate relation between the development of
ideas on the one hand and the development of language on the other is
here very strikingly illustrated. The drawing becomes more useful
because it is associated with more elaborate ideas, while the ideas
develop because they find in the drawing a definite content which helps
to mark and give separate character to the idea.
As soon as the drawing began to lose its significance as a direct
perceptual reproduction of the object and took on new and broader
meanings through the associations which attached to it, the written form
became a symbol, rather than a direct appeal to visual memory. As a
symbol it stood for something which, in itself, it was not. The way was
thus opened for the written symbol to enter into relation with oral
speech, which is also a form of symbolism. Articulate sounds are
simplified forms of experience capable through association with ideas of
expressing meanings not directly related to the sounds themselves. When
the written symbol began to be related to the sound symbol, there was at
first a loose and irregular relation between them. The Egyptians seem to
have established such relations to some extent. They wrote at times with
pictures standing for sounds, as we now write in rebus puzzles. In such
puzzles the picture of an object is intended to call up in the mind of
the reader, not the special group of ideas appropriate to the object
represented in the picture, but rather the sound which serves as the
name of this object. When the sound is once suggested to the reader, he
is supposed to attend to that and to connect with it certain other
associations appropriate to the sound. To take a modern illustration, we
may, for example, use the picture of the eye to stand for the first
personal pronoun. The relationship between the picture and the idea for
which it is used is in this case through the sound of the name of the
object depicted. That the early alphabets are of this type of rebus
pictures appears in their names. The first three letters of the Hebrew
alphabet, for example, are named, respectively, _aleph_ which means ox,
_beth_ which means house, and _gimmel_ which means camel.
The complete development of a sound alphabet from this type of rebus
writing required, doubtless, much experimentation on the part of the
nations which succeeded in establishing the association. The Phoenicians
have generally been credited with the invention of the forms and
relations which we now use. Their contribution to civilization cannot be
overestimated. It consisted, not in the presentation of new material or
content to conscious experience, but rather in the bringing together by
association of groups of contents which, in their new relation,
transformed the whole process of thought and expression. They associated
visual and auditory content and gave to the visual factors a meaning
through association which was of such unique importance as to justify us
in describing the association as a new invention.
There are certain systems of writing which indicate that the type of
relationship which we use is not the only possible type of relationship.
The Chinese, for example, have continued to use simple symbols which are
related to complex sounds, not to elementary sounds, as are our own
letters. In Chinese writing the various symbols, though much corrupted
in form, stand each for an object. It is true that the forms of Chinese
writing have long since lost their direct relationship to the pictures
in which they originated. The present forms are simplified and
symbolical. So free has the symbolism become that the form has been
arbitrarily modified to make it possible for the writer to use freely
the crude tools with which the Chinaman does his writing. These
practical considerations could not have become operative, if the direct
pictographic character of the symbols had not long since given place to
a symbolical character which renders the figure important, not because
of what it shows in itself, but rather because of what it suggests to
the mind of the reader. The relation of the symbol to elementary sounds
has, however, never been established. This lack of association with
elementary sounds keeps the Chinese writing at a level much lower and
nearer to primitive pictographic forms than is our writing.
Whether we have a highly elaborated symbolical system, such as that
which appears in Chinese writing, or a form of writing which is related
to sound, the chief fact regarding writing, as regarding all language,
is that it depends for its value very much more upon the ideational
relations into which the symbols are brought in the individual's mind
than upon the impressions which they arouse.
The ideational associations which appear in developed language could
never have reached the elaborate form which they have at present if
there had not been social co-operation. The tendency of the individual
when left to himself is to drop back into the direct adjustments which
are appropriate to his own life. He might possibly develop articulation
to a certain extent for his own sake, but the chief impulse to the
development of language comes through intercourse with others. As we
have seen, the development of the simplest forms of communication, as in
animals, is a matter of social imitation. Writing is also an outgrowth
of social relations. It is extremely doubtful whether even the child of
civilized parents would ever have any sufficient motive for the
development of writing, if it were not for the social encouragement he
receives.
4. The Extension of Communication by Human Invention[145]
No one who is asked to name the agencies that weave the great web of
intellectual and material influences and counter-influences by which
modern humanity is combined into the unity of society will need much
reflection to give first rank to the newspaper, along with the post,
railroad, and telegraph.
In fact, the newspaper forms a link in the chain of modern commercial
machinery; it is one of those contrivances by which in society the
exchange of intellectual and material goods is facilitated. Yet it is
not an instrument of commercial intercourse in the sense of the post or
the railway, both of which have to do with the transport of persons,
goods, and news, but rather in the sense of the letter and circular.
These make the news capable of transport only because they are enabled
by the help of writing and printing to cut it adrift, as it were, from
its originator and give it corporeal independence.
However great the difference between letter, circular, and newspaper may
appear today, a little reflection shows that all three are essentially
similar products, originating in the necessity of communicating news and
in the employment of writing in its satisfaction. The sole difference
consists in the letter being addressed to individuals, the circular to
several specified persons, the newspaper to many unspecified persons.
Or, in other words, while letter and circular are instruments for the
private communication of news, the newspaper is an instrument for its
publication.
Today we are, of course, accustomed to the regular printing of the
newspaper and its periodical appearance at brief intervals. But neither
of these is an essential characteristic of the newspaper as a means of
news publication. On the contrary, it will become apparent directly that
the primitive paper from which this mighty instrument of commercial
intercourse is sprung appeared neither in printed form nor periodically,
but that it closely resembled the letter from which, indeed, it can
scarcely be distinguished. To be sure, repeated appearance at brief
intervals is involved in the very nature of news publication. For news
has value only so long as it is fresh; and to preserve for it the charm
of novelty its publication must follow in the footsteps of the events.
We shall, however, soon see that the periodicity of these intervals, as
far as it can be noticed in the infancy of journalism, depended upon the
regular recurrence of opportunities to transport the news, and was in no
way connected with the essential nature of the newspaper.
The regular collection and despatch of news presupposes a widespread
interest in public affairs, or an extensive area of trade exhibiting
numerous commercial connections and combinations of interest, or both at
once. Such interest is not realized until people are united by some more
or less extensive political organization into a certain community of
life-interest. The city republics of ancient times required no
newspaper; all their needs of publication could be met by the herald and
by inscriptions, as occasion demanded. Only when Roman supremacy had
embraced or subjected to its influence all the countries of the
Mediterranean was there need of some means by which those members of the
ruling class who had gone to the provinces as officials, tax-farmers,
and in other occupations, might receive the current news of the capital.
It is significant that Caesar, the creator of the military monarchy and
of the administrative centralization of Rome, is regarded as the founder
of the first contrivance resembling a newspaper.
Indeed, long before Caesar's consulate it had become customary for
Romans in the provinces to keep one or more correspondents at the
capital to send them written reports on the course of political movement
and on other events of the day. Such a correspondent was generally an
intelligent slave or freedman intimately acquainted with affairs at the
capital, who, moreover, often made a business of reporting for several.
He was thus a species of primitive reporter, differing from those of
today only in writing, not for a newspaper, but directly for readers. On
recommendation of their employers, these reporters enjoyed at times
admission even to the senate discussions. Antony kept such a man, whose
duty it was to report to him not merely on the senate's resolutions but
also on the speeches and votes of the senators. Cicero, when proconsul,
received through his friend, M. Caelius, the reports of a certain
Chrestus, but seems not to have been particularly well satisfied with
the latter's accounts of gladiatorial sports, law-court proceedings, and
the various pieces of city gossip. As in this case, such correspondence
never extended beyond a rude relation of facts that required
supplementing through letters from party friends of the absent person.
These friends, as we know from Cicero, supplied the real report on
political feeling.
The innovation made by Caesar consisted in instituting the publication
of a brief record of the transactions and resolutions of the senate, and
in his causing to be published the transactions of the assemblies of the
plebs, as well as other important matters of public concern.
The Germanic peoples who, after the Romans, assumed the lead in the
history of Europe were neither in civilization nor in political
organization fitted to maintain a similar constitution of the news
service; nor did they require it. All through the Middle Ages the
political and social life of men was bounded by a narrow horizon;
culture retired to the cloisters and for centuries affected only the
people of prominence. There were no trade interests beyond the narrow
walls of their own town or manor to draw men together. It is only in the
later centuries of the Middle Ages that extensive social combinations
once more appear. It is first the church, embracing with her hierarchy
all the countries of Germanic and Latin civilization, next the burgher
class with its city confederacies and common trade interests, and,
finally, as a counter-influence to these, the secular territorial
powers, who succeed in gradually realizing some form of union. In the
twelfth and thirteenth centuries we notice the first traces of an
organized service for transmission of news and letters in the messengers
of monasteries, the universities, and the various spiritual dignitaries;
in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries we have advanced to a
comprehensive, almost postlike, organization of local messenger bureaus
for the epistolary intercourse of traders and of municipal authorities.
And now, for the first time, we meet with the word _Zeitung_, or
newspaper. The word meant originally that which was happening at the
time (_Zeit_ = "time"), a present occurrence; then information on such
an event, a message, a report, news.
Venice was long regarded as the birthplace of the newspaper in the
modern acceptation of the word. As the channel of trade between the East
and the West, as the seat of a government that first organized the
political news service and the consular system in the modern sense, the
old city of lagoons formed a natural collecting center for important
news items from all lands of the known world. Even early in the
fifteenth century, as has been shown by the investigations of
Valentinelli, the librarian of St. Mark's Library, collections of news
had been made at the instance of the council of Venice regarding events
that had either occurred within the republic or been reported by
ambassadors, consuls, and officials, by ships' captains, merchants, and
the like. These were sent as circular despatches to the Venetian
representatives abroad to keep them posted on international affairs.
Such collections of news were called _fogli d'avvisi_.
The further development of news publication in the field that it has
occupied since the more general adoption of the printing-press has been
peculiar. At the outset the publisher of a periodical printed newspaper
differed in no wise from the publisher of any other printed work--for
instance, of a pamphlet or a book. He was but the multiplier and seller
of a literary product, over whose content he had no control. The
newspaper publisher marketed the regular post-news in its printed form
just as another publisher offered the public a herbal or an edition of
an old writer.
But this soon changed. It was readily perceived that the contents of a
newspaper number did not form an entity in the same sense as the
contents of a book or pamphlet. The news items there brought together,
taken from different sources, were of varying reliability. They needed
to be used judicially and critically: in this a political or religious
bias could find ready expression. In a still higher degree was this the
case when men began to discuss contemporary political questions in the
newspapers and to employ them as a medium for disseminating party
opinions.
This took place first in England during the Long Parliament and the
Revolution of 1640. The Netherlands and a part of the imperial free
towns of Germany followed later. In France the change was not
consummated before the era of the great Revolution: in most other
countries it occurred in the nineteenth century. The newspaper, from
being a mere vehicle for the publication of news, became an instrument
for supporting and shaping public opinion and a weapon of party
politics.
The effect of this upon the internal organization of the newspaper
undertaking was to introduce a third department, the _editorship_,
between news collecting and news publication. For the newspaper
publisher, however, it signified that from a mere seller of news he had
become a dealer in public opinion as well.
At first this meant nothing more than that the publisher was placed in a
position to shift a portion of the risk of his undertaking upon a party
organization, a circle of interested persons, or a government. If the
leanings of the paper were distasteful to the readers, they ceased to
buy the paper. Their wishes thus remained, in the final analysis, the
determining factor for the contents of the newspapers.
The gradually expanding circulation of the printed newspapers
nevertheless soon led to their employment by the authorities for making
public announcements. With this came, in the first quarter of the last
century, the extension of private announcements, which have now
attained, through the so-called advertising bureaus, some such
organization as political news-collecting possesses in the
correspondence bureaus.
The modern newspaper is a capitalistic enterprise, a sort of
news-factory in which a great number of people (correspondents, editors,
typesetters, correctors, machine-tenders, collectors of advertisements,
office clerks, messengers, etc.) are employed on wage, under a single
administration, at very specialized work. This paper produces wares for
an unknown circle of readers, from whom it is, furthermore, frequently
separated by intermediaries, such as delivery agencies and postal
institutions. The simple needs of the reader or of the circle of patrons
no longer determine the quality of these wares; it is now the very
complicated conditions of competition in the publication market. In this
market, however, as generally in wholesale markets, the consumers of the
goods, the newspaper readers, take no direct part; the determining
factors are the wholesale dealers and the speculators in news: the
governments, the telegraph bureaus dependent upon their special
correspondents, the political parties, artistic and scientific cliques,
men on 'change, and, last but not least, the advertising agencies and
large individual advertisers.
Each number of a great journal which appears today is a marvel of
economic division of labor, capitalistic organization, and mechanical
technique; it is an instrument of intellectual and economic intercourse,
in which the potencies of all other instruments of commerce--the
railway, the post, the telegraph, and the telephone--are united as in a
focus.
D. IMITATION
1. Definition of Imitation[146]
The term "imitation" is used in ordinary language to designate any
repetition of any act or thought which has been noted by an observer.
Thus one imitates the facial expression of another, or his mode of
speech. The term has been brought into prominence in scientific
discussions through the work of Gabriel Tarde, who in his _Les lois de
l'imitation_ points out that imitation is a fundamental fact underlying
all social development. The customs of society are imitated from
generation to generation. The fashions of the day are imitated by large
groups of people without any consciousness of the social solidarity
which is derived from this common mode of behavior. There is developed
through these various forms of imitation a body of experiences which is
common to all of the members of a given social group. In complex society
the various imitations which tend to set themselves up are frequently
found to be in conflict; thus the tendency toward elaborate fashions in
dress is constantly limited by the counter-tendency toward simpler
fashions. The conflict of tendencies leads to individual variations from
the example offered at any given time, and, as a result, there are new
examples to be followed. Complex social examples are thus products of
conflict.
This general doctrine of Tarde has been elaborated by a number of recent
writers. Royce calls attention to the fundamental importance of
imitation as a means of social inheritance. The same doctrine is taken
up by Baldwin in his _Mental Development in the Child and Race_, and in
_Social and Ethical Interpretations_. With these later writers,
imitation takes on a significance which is somewhat technical and
broader than the significance which it has either with Tarde or in the
ordinary use of the term. Baldwin uses the term to cover that case in
which an individual repeats an act because he has himself gone through
the act. In such a case one imitates himself and sets up what Baldwin
terms a circular reaction. The principle of imitation is thus introduced
into individual psychology as well as into general social psychology,
and the relation between the individual's acts and his own imagery is
brought under the same general principle as the individual's responses
to his social environment. The term "imitation" in this broader sense is
closely related to the processes of sympathy.
The term "social heredity" has very frequently been used in connection
with all of the processes here under discussion. Society tends to
perpetuate itself in the new individual in a fashion analogous to that
in which the physical characteristics of the earlier generation tend to
perpetuate themselves in the physical characteristics of the new
generation. Since modes of behavior, such as acts of courtesy, cannot be
transmitted through physical structure, they would tend to lapse if they
were not maintained through imitation from generation to generation.
Thus imitation gives uniformity to social practices and consequently is
to be treated as a form of supplementary inheritance extending beyond
physical inheritance and making effective the established forms of
social practice.
2. Attention, Interest, and Imitation[147]
Imitation is a process of very great importance for the development of
mental life in both men and animals. In its more complex forms it
presupposes trains of ideas; but in its essential features it is present
and operative at the perceptual level. It is largely through imitation
that the results of the experience of one generation are transmitted to
the next, so as to form the basis for further development. Where trains
of ideas play a relatively unimportant part, as in the case of animals,
imitation may be said to be the sole form of social tradition. In the
case of human beings, the thought of past generations is embodied in
language, institutions, machinery, and the like. This distinctively
human tradition presupposes trains of ideas in past generations, which
so mold the environment of a new generation that in apprehending and
adapting itself to this environment it must re-think the old trains of
thought. Tradition of this kind is not found in animal life, because the
animal mind does not proceed by way of trains of ideas. None the less,
the more intelligent animals depend largely on tradition. This tradition
consists essentially in imitation by the young of the actions of their
parents, or of other members of the community in which they are born.
The same directly imitative process, though it is very far from forming
the whole of social tradition in human beings, forms a very important
part of it.
a) _The imitative impulse._--We must distinguish between ability to
imitate and impulse to imitate. We may be already fully able to perform
an action, and the sight of it as performed by another may merely prompt
us to reproduce it. But the sight of an act performed by another may
also have an educational influence; it may not only stimulate us to do
what we are already able to do without its aid; it may also enable us to
do what we could not do without having an example to follow. When the
cough of one man sets another coughing, it is evident that imitation
here consists only in the impulse to follow suit. The second man does
not learn how to cough from the example of the first. He is simply
prompted to do on this particular occasion what he is otherwise quite
capable of doing. But if I am learning billiards and someone shows me by
his own example how to make a particular stroke, the case is different.
It is not his example which in the first instance prompts me to the
action. He merely shows the way to do what I already desire to do.
We have then first to discuss the nature of the imitative impulse--the
impulse to perform an action which arises from the perception of it as
performed by another.
This impulse is an affair of attentive consciousness. The perception of
an action prompts us to reproduce it when and so far as it excites
interest or is at least intimately connected with what does excite
interest. Further, the interest must be of such a nature that it is more
fully gratified by partially or wholly repeating the interesting action.
Thus imitation is a special development of attention. Attention is
always striving after a more vivid, more definite, and more complete
apprehension of its object. Imitation is a way in which this endeavor
may gratify itself when the interest in the object is of a certain kind.
It is obvious that we do not try to imitate all manner of actions,
without distinction, merely because they take place under our eyes. What
is familiar and commonplace or what for any other reason is unexciting
or insipid fails to stir us to re-enact it. It is otherwise with what is
strikingly novel or in any way impressive, so that our attention dwells
on it with relish or fascination. It is, of course, not true that
whatever act fixes attention prompts to imitation. This is only the case
where imitation helps attention, where it is, in fact, a special
development of attention. This is so when interest is directly
concentrated on the activity itself for its own sake rather than for the
sake of its possible consequences and the like ulterior motives. But it
is not necessary that the act in itself should be interesting; in a most
important class of cases the interest centers, not directly in the
external act imitated, but in something else with which this act is so
intimately connected as virtually to form a part of it. Thus there is a
tendency to imitate not only interesting acts but also the acts of
interesting persons. Men are apt to imitate the gestures and modes of
speech of those who excite their admiration or affection or some other
personal interest. Children imitate their parents or their leaders in
the playground. Even the mannerisms and tricks of a great man are often
unconsciously copied by those who regard him as a hero. In such
instances the primary interest is in the whole personality of the model;
but this is more vividly and distinctly brought before consciousness by
reproducing his external peculiarities. Our result, then, is that
interest in an action prompts to imitation in proportion to its
intensity, provided the interest is of a kind which will be gratified or
sustained by imitative activity.
b) _Learning by imitation._--Let us now turn to the other side of the
question. Let us consider the case in which the power of performing an
action is acquired in and by the process of imitation itself. Here there
is a general rule which is obvious when once it is pointed out. It is
part of the still more general rule that "to him that hath shall be
given." Our power of imitating the activity of another is strictly
proportioned to our pre-existing power of performing the same general
kind of action independently. For instance, one devoid of musical
faculty has practically no power of imitating the violin playing of
Joachim. Imitation may develop and improve a power which already exists,
but it cannot create it. Consider the child beginning for the first time
to write in a copybook. He learns by imitation; but it is only because
he has already some rudimentary ability to make such simple figures as
pothooks that the imitative process can get a start. At the outset, his
pothooks are very unlike the model set before him. Gradually he
improves; increased power of independent production gives step by step
increased power of imitation, until he approaches too closely the limits
of his capacity in this direction to make any further progress of an
appreciable kind.
But this is an incomplete account of the matter. The power of learning
by imitation is part of the general power of learning by experience; it
involves mental plasticity. An animal which starts life with congenital
tendencies and aptitudes of a fixed and stereotyped kind, so that they
admit of but little modification in the course of individual
development, has correspondingly little power of learning by imitation.
At higher levels of mental development the imitative impulse is far less
conspicuous because impulsive activity in general is checked and
overruled by activity organized in a unified system. Civilized men
imitate not so much because of immediate interest in the action imitated
as with a view to the attainment of desirable results.
3. The Three Levels of Sympathy[148]
Sympathy is not an instinct or a tendency, i.e., a group of co-ordinated
movements adapted to a particular end, and showing itself in
consciousness as an emotion, such as fear, anger, sex attraction; it is,
on the contrary, a highly generalized psycho-physiological property. To
the specialized character of each emotion it opposes a character of
almost unlimited plasticity. We have not to consider it under all its
aspects but as one of the most important manifestations of emotional
life, as the basis of the tender emotions, and one of the foundations of
social and moral existence.
a) _The first phase._--In its primitive form sympathy is reflex,
automatic, unconscious, or very slightly conscious; it is, according to
Bain, the tendency to produce in ourselves an attitude, a state, a
bodily movement which we perceive in another person. This is imitation
in its most rudimentary form. Between sympathy and imitation, at any
rate in this primitive period, I see only one difference of aspect:
sympathy everywhere marks the passive, receptive side of the phenomenon;
imitation, its active and motor side.
It manifests itself in animals forming aggregates (not societies), such
as a flock of sheep, or a pack of dogs who run, stop, bark all at the
same time, through a purely physical impulse of imitation; in man,
infectious laughter or yawning, walking in step, imitating the movements
of a rope-walker while watching him, feeling a shock in one's legs when
one sees a man falling, and a hundred other occurrences of this kind are
cases of physiological sympathy. It plays a great part in the psychology
of crowds, with their rapid attacks and sudden panics. In nervous
diseases, there is a superfluity of examples: epidemics of hysteric
fits, convulsive barking, hiccup, etc. I omit the mental maladies
(epidemics of suicide, double or triple madness) since we are only
considering the purely physiological stage.
To sum up, sympathy is originally a property of living matter: as there
is an organic memory and an organic sensitiveness, being those of the
tissues and ultimate elements which compose them, there is an organic
sympathy, made up of receptivity and imitative movements.
b) _The second phase._--The next phase is that of sympathy in the
psychological sense, necessarily accompanied by consciousness; it
creates in two or more individuals analogous emotional states. Such are
the cases in which we say that fear, indignation, joy, or sorrow are
communicated. It consists in feeling an emotion existing in another, and
is revealed to us by its physiological expression. This phase consists
of two stages.
(1) The first might be defined as psychological unison. If, during this
period of unison, we could read the minds of those who sympathize, we
should see a single emotional fact reflected in the consciousness of
several individuals. L. Noiré, in his book, _Ursprung der Sprache_, has
proposed the theory that language originated in community of action
among the earliest human beings. When working, marching, dancing,
rowing, they uttered (according to this writer) sounds which became the
appellatives of these different actions, or of various objects; and
these sounds, being uttered by all, must have been understood by all.
Whether this theory be correct or not (it has been accepted as such by
Max Müller), it will serve as an illustration. But this state of
sympathy does not by itself constitute a tie of affection or tenderness
between those who feel it; it only prepares the way for such an emotion.
It may be the basis of a certain social solidarity, because the same
internal states excite the same acts of a mechanical, exterior,
non-moral solidarity.
(2) The second stage is that of sympathy, in the restricted and popular
sense of the word. This consists of psychological unison, _plus_ a new
element: there is added another emotional manifestation, tender emotion
(benevolence, sympathy, pity, etc.). It is no longer sympathy pure and
simple, it is a binary compound. The common habit of considering
phenomena only under their higher and complete forms often misleads us
as to their origin and constitution. Moreover, in order to understand
that this is a case of duality--the fusion of two distinct elements--and
that our analysis is not a factitious one, it is sufficient to point out
that sympathy (in the etymological sense) may exist without any tender
emotion--nay, that it may exclude instead of excite it. According to
Lubbock, while ants carry away their wounded, bees--though forming a
society--are indifferent toward each other. It is well known that
gregarious animals nearly always shun and desert a wounded member of the
herd. Among men, how many there are who, when they see suffering, hasten
to withdraw themselves from the spectacle, in order to escape the pain
which it sympathetically awakens in them. This impulse may go to the
length of aversion, as typified by Dives in the Gospel. It is therefore
a complete psychological error to consider sympathy as capable, unaided,
of delivering men from egoism; it only takes the first step, and not
always that.
c) _The third phase._--Under its intellectual form, sympathy is an
agreement in feelings and actions, founded on unity of representation.
The law of development is summed up in Spencer's formula, "The degree
and range of sympathy depend on the clearness and extent of
representation." I should, however, add: on condition of being based on
an emotional temperament. This last is the source _par excellence_ of
sympathy, because it vibrates like an echo; the active temperament lends
itself less to such impulses, because it has so much to do in
manifesting its own individuality that it can scarcely manifest those of
others; finally, the phlegmatic temperament does so least of all,
because it presents a minimum of emotional life; like Leibnitz' monads,
it has no windows.
In passing from the emotional to the intellectual phase, sympathy gains
in extent and stability. In fact, emotional sympathy requires some
analogy in temperament or nature; it can scarcely be established between
the timid and the daring, between the cheerful and the melancholic; it
may be extended to all human beings and to the animals nearest us, but
not beyond them. On the contrary, it is the special attribute of
intelligence to seek resemblances or analogies everywhere, to unify; it
embraces the whole of nature. By the law of transfer (which we have
already studied) sympathy follows this invading march and comprehends
even inanimate objects, as in the case of the poet, who feels himself in
communion with the sea, the woods, the lakes, or the mountains. Besides,
intellectual sympathy participates in the relative fixity of
representation; we find a simple instance of this in animal societies,
such as those of the bees, where unity or sympathy among the members is
only maintained by the perception or representation of the queen.
4. Rational Sympathy[149]
As we have no immediate experience of what other men feel, we can form
no idea of the manner in which they are affected but by conceiving what
we ourselves should feel in the like situation. Though our brother is
upon the rack, as long as we ourselves are at our ease our senses will
never inform us of what he suffers. They never did, and never can, carry
us beyond our own person, and it is by the imagination only that we can
form any conception of what are his sensations. Neither can that faculty
help us to this any other way than by representing to us what would be
our own, if we were in his case. It is the impressions of our own senses
only, not those of his, which our imaginations copy. By the imagination
we place ourselves in his situation, we conceive ourselves enduring all
the same torments, we enter as it were into his body and become in some
measure the same person with him, and thence form some idea of his
sensations, and even feel something which, though weaker in degree, is
not altogether unlike them. His agonies, when they are thus brought home
to ourselves, when we have thus adopted and made them our own, begin at
last to affect us, and we then tremble and shudder at the thought of
what he feels. For, as to be in pain or distress of any kind excites the
most excessive sorrow, so to conceive or to imagine that we are in it
excites some degree of the same emotion, in proportion to the vivacity
or dulness of the conception.
That this is the source of our fellow-feeling for the misery of others,
that it is by changing places in fancy with the sufferer that we come
either to conceive or to be affected by what he feels, may be
demonstrated by many obvious observations, if it should not be thought
sufficiently evident of itself. When we see a stroke aimed, and just
ready to fall upon the leg or arm of another person, we naturally shrink
and draw back our own leg or our own arm; and when it does fall, we feel
it in some measure and are hurt by it as well as the sufferer. The mob,
when they are gazing at a dancer on the slack rope, naturally writhe and
twist and balance their own bodies as they see him do, and as they feel
that they themselves must do if in his situation. Persons of delicate
fibers and a weak constitution of body complain that in looking on the
sores and ulcers which are exposed by beggars in the streets they are
apt to feel an itching or uneasy sensation in the corresponding part of
their own bodies. The horror which they conceive at the misery of those
wretches affects that particular part in themselves more than any other
because that horror arises from conceiving what they themselves would
suffer if they really were the wretches whom they are looking upon, and
if that particular part in themselves was actually affected in the same
miserable manner. The very force of this conception is sufficient, in
their feeble frames, to produce that itching or uneasy sensation
complained of. Men of the most robust make observe that in looking upon
sore eyes they often feel a very sensible soreness in their own, which
proceeds from the same reason; that organ, being in the strongest man
more delicate than any other part of the body, is the weakest.
Upon some occasions sympathy may seem to arise merely from the view of a
certain emotion in another person. The passions upon some occasions may
seem to be transfused from one man to another instantaneously and
antecedent to any knowledge of what excited them in the person
principally concerned. Grief and joy, for example, strongly expressed in
the look and gestures of any person at once affect the spectator with
some degree of a like painful or agreeable emotion. A smiling face is,
to everybody that sees it, a cheerful object, as a sorrowful
countenance, on the other hand, is a melancholy one.
This, however, does not hold universally, or with regard to every
passion. There are some passions of which the expressions excite no
sort of sympathy, but, before we are acquainted with what gave occasion
to them, serve rather to disgust and provoke us against them. The
furious behavior of an angry man is more likely to exasperate us against
himself than against his enemies. As we are unacquainted with his
provocation, we cannot bring his case home to ourselves, nor conceive
anything like the passions which it excites. But we plainly see what is
the situation of those with whom he is angry, and to what violence they
may be exposed from so enraged an adversary. We readily, therefore,
sympathize with their fear or resentment, and are immediately disposed
to take part against the man from whom they appear to be in danger.
If the very appearances of grief and joy inspire us with some degree of
the like emotions, it is because they suggest to us the general idea of
some good or bad fortune that has befallen the person in whom we observe
them: and in these passions this is sufficient to have some little
influence upon us. The effects of grief and joy terminate in the person
who feels these emotions, of which the expressions do not, like those of
resentment, suggest to us the idea of any other person for whom we are
concerned and whose interests are opposite to his. The general idea of
good or bad fortune, therefore, creates some concern for the person who
has met with it; but the general idea of provocation excites no sympathy
with the anger of the man who has received it. Nature, it seems, teaches
us to be more averse to enter into this passion, and, till informed of
its cause, to be disposed rather to take part against it.
Even our sympathy with the grief or joy of another, before we are
informed of the cause of either, is always extremely imperfect. General
lamentations, which express nothing but the anguish of the sufferer,
create rather a curiosity to inquire into his situation, along with some
disposition to sympathize with him, than any actual sympathy that is
very sensible. The first question which we ask is, What has befallen
you? Till this be answered, though we are uneasy both from the vague
idea of his misfortune and still more from torturing ourselves with
conjectures about what it may be, yet our fellow-feeling is not very
considerable.
Sympathy, therefore, does not arise so much from the view of the passion
as from that of the situation which excites it. We sometimes feel for
another a passion of which he himself seems to be altogether incapable,
because, when we put ourselves in his case, that passion arises in our
breast from the imagination, though it does not in his from the reality.
We blush for the impudence and rudeness of another, though he himself
appears to have no sense of the impropriety of his own behavior, because
we cannot help feeling with what confusion we ourselves should be
covered, had we behaved in so absurd a manner.
Of all the calamities to which the condition of mortality exposes
mankind, the loss of reason appears, to those who have the least spark
of humanity, by far the most dreadful; and they behold that last stage
of human wretchedness with deeper commiseration than any other. But the
poor wretch who is in it laughs and sings, perhaps, and is altogether
insensible to his own misery. The anguish which humanity feels,
therefore, at the sight of such an object cannot be the reflection of
any sentiment of the sufferer. The compassion of the spectator must
arise altogether from the consideration of what he himself would feel if
he was reduced to the same unhappy situation, and, what perhaps is
impossible, was at the same time able to regard it with his present
reason and judgment.
What are the pangs of a mother when she hears the meanings of her
infant, that, during the agony of disease, cannot express what it feels?
In her idea of what it suffers, she joins to its real helplessness her
own consciousness of that helplessness and her own terrors for the
unknown consequences of its disorder; and, out of all these, forms for
her own sorrow the most complete image of misery and distress. The
infant, however, feels only the uneasiness of the present instant, which
can never be great. With regard to the future it is perfectly secure in
its thoughtlessness and want of anxiety, the great tormentors of the
human breast, from which reason and philosophy will in vain attempt to
defend it when it grows up to a man.
But whatever may be the cause of sympathy, or however it may be excited,
nothing pleases us more than to observe in other men a fellow-feeling
with all the emotions of our own breast; nor are we ever so much shocked
as by the appearance of the contrary. Those who are fond of deducing all
our sentiments from certain refinements of self-love think themselves at
no loss to account, according to their own principles, both for this
pleasure and for this pain. Man, say they, conscious of his own weakness
and of the need which he has for the assistance of others, rejoices
whenever he observes that they adopt his own passions because he is then
assured of that assistance and grieves whenever he observes the
contrary, because he is then assured of their opposition. But both the
pleasure and the pain are always felt so instantaneously, and often upon
such frivolous occasions, that it seems evident that neither of them can
be derived from any such self-interested consideration. A man is
mortified when, after having endeavored to divert the company, he looks
round and sees that nobody laughs at his jests but himself. On the
contrary, the mirth of the company is highly agreeable to him and he
regards this correspondence of their sentiments with his own as the
greatest applause.
5. Art, Imitation, and Appreciation[150]
The investigation into the psychology of masses, as well as the
experiments on suggestive therapeutics, have proved to how great an
extent mental states may be transmitted from individual to individual by
unconscious imitation of the accompanying movements. The doctrine of
universal sympathy, a clear statement of which was given long ago in the
ethical theory of Adam Smith, has thus acquired a psychological
justification in the modern theories of imitative movement. Contemporary
science has at last learned to appreciate the fundamental importance of
imitation for the development of human culture. And some authors have
even gone so far as to endeavor to deduce all sociological laws from
this one principle. At the same time natural history has begun to pay
more and more attention to the indispensability of imitation for the
full development of instincts, as well as for training in those
activities which are the most necessary in life.
It is fortunate for the theory of art that the importance of the
imitative functions has thus been simultaneously acknowledged in various
departments of science. Whatever one may think of the somewhat audacious
generalizations which have been made in the recent application of this
new principle, it is incontestable that the aesthetic activities can be
understood and explained only by reference to the universal tendency to
imitate. It is also significant that writers on aesthetic had felt
themselves compelled to set up a theory of imitation long before
experimental psychologists had begun to turn their attention in this
direction. In Germany the enjoyment of form and form-relations has,
since Vischer's time, been interpreted as the result of the movements by
which, not only our eye, but also our whole body follows the outlines of
external things. In France Jouffroy stated the condition for the
receiving of aesthetic impressions to be a "power of internally
imitating the states which are externally manifested in living nature."
In England, finally, Vernon Lee and Anstruther Thompson have founded a
theory of beauty and ugliness upon this same psychical impulse to copy
in our own unconscious movements the forms of objects. And in the
writings of, for instance, Home, Hogarth, Dugald Stewart, and Spencer,
there can be found a multitude of isolated remarks on the influence
which is in a direct way exercised on our mental life by the perception
of lines and forms.
In most of these theories and observations, however, the imitative
activity has been noticed only in so far as it contributes to the
aesthetic delight which may be derived from sensual impressions. But its
importance is by no means so restricted as this; on the contrary, we
believe it to be a fundamental condition for the existence of intuition
itself. Without all these imperceptible tracing movements with which our
body accompanies the adaptation of the eye-muscles to the outlines of
external objects, our notions of depth, height, and distance, and so on,
would certainly be far less distinct than they are. On the other hand,
the habit of executing such movements has, so to say, brought the
external world within the sphere of the internal. The world has been
measured with man as a standard, and objects have been translated into
the language of mental experience. The impressions have hereby gained,
not only in emotional tone, but also in intellectual comprehensibility.
Greater still is the importance of imitation for our intuition of moving
objects. And a difficult movement itself is fully understood only when
it has been imitated, either internally or in actual outward activity.
The idea of a movement, therefore, is generally associated with an
arrested impulse to perform it. Closer introspection will show everyone
to how great a part our knowledge, even of persons, is built up of motor
elements. By unconscious and imperceptible copying in our own body the
external behavior of a man, we may learn to understand him with
benevolent or malevolent sympathy. And it will, no doubt, be admitted
by most readers that the reason why they know their friends and foes
better than they know anyone else is that they carry the remembrance of
them not only in their eyes, but in their whole body. When in idle
moments we find the memory of an absent friend surging up in our minds
with no apparent reason, we may often note, to our astonishment, that we
have just been unconsciously adopting one of his characteristic
attitudes, or imitating his peculiar gestures or gait.
It may, however, be objected that the above-mentioned instances refer
only to a particular class of individuals. In other minds, it will be
said, the world-picture is entirely built up of visual and acoustic
elements. It is also impossible to deny that the classification of minds
in different types, which modern psychology has introduced, is as
legitimate as it is advantageous for the purposes of research. But we
can hardly believe that such divisions have in view anything more than a
relative predominance of the several psychical elements. It is easily
understood that a man in whose store of memory visual or acoustic images
occupy the foremost place may be inclined to deny that motor sensations
of unconscious copying enter to any extent into his psychical
experience. But an exclusively visual world-image, if such a thing is
possible, must evidently be not only emotionally poorer, but also
intellectually less distinct and less complete, than an intuition, in
which such motor elements are included.
The importance of motor sensations in the psychology of knowledge is by
itself of no aesthetic interest. The question has been touched upon in
this connection only because of the illustration which it gives to the
imitation theory. If, as we believe is the case, it is really necessary,
for the purpose of acquiring a complete comprehension of things and
events, to "experience" them--that is to say, to pursue and seize upon
them, not only with that particular organ of sense to which they appeal,
but also by tracing movements of the whole body--then there is no need
to wonder at the universality of the imitative impulse. Imitation does
not only, according to this view, facilitate our training in useful
activities, and aid us in deriving an aesthetic delight from our
sensations; it serves also, and perhaps primarily, as an expedient for
the accommodating of ourselves to the external world, and for the
explaining of things by reference to ourselves. It is therefore natural
that imitative movements should occupy so great a place among the
activities of children and primitive men. And we can also understand why
this fundamental impulse, which has played so important a part in racial
as well as in individual education, may become so great as to be a
disease and dominate the whole of conscious life. As children we all
imitated before we comprehended, and we have learned to comprehend by
imitating. It is only when we have grown familiar by imitation with the
most important data of perception that we become capable of
appropriating knowledge in a more rational way. Although no adult has
any need to resort to external imitation in order to comprehend new
impressions, it is still only natural that in a pathological condition
he should relapse into the primitive imitative reaction. And it is
equally natural that an internal, i.e., arrested, imitation should take
place in all our perceptions. After this explanation of the universality
of this phenomenon we have no further need to occupy ourselves with the
general psychology of imitation. We have here only to take notice of its
importance for the communication of feeling.
As is well known, it is only in cases of abnormally increased
sensibility--for instance, in some of the stages of hypnotism and
thought transmission--that the motor counterpart of a mental state can
be imitated with such faithfulness and completeness that the imitator is
thereby enabled to partake of all the _intellectual_ elements of the
state existing in another. The hedonic qualities, on the other hand,
which are physiologically conditioned by much simpler motor
counterparts, may of course be transmitted with far greater perfection:
it is easier to suggest a pleasure than a thought. It is also evident
that it is the most general hedonic and volitional elements which have
been considered by the German authors on aesthetic in their theories on
internal imitation ("Die innere Nachahmung"). They seem to have thought
that the adoption of the attitudes and the performance of the movements
which usually accompany a given emotional state will also succeed to
some extent in producing a similar emotional state. This assumption is
perfectly legitimate, even if the connection between feeling and
movement be interpreted in the associative way. And it needs no
justification when the motor changes are considered as the physiological
correlate of the feeling itself.
Everyday experience affords many examples of the way in which feelings
are called into existence by the imitation of their expressive
movements. A child repeats the smiles and the laughter of its parents,
and can thus partake of their joy long before it is able to understand
its cause. Adult life naturally does not give us many opportunities of
observing this pure form of direct and almost automatic transmission.
But even in adult life we may often meet with an exchange of feeling
which seems almost independent of any intellectual communication. Lovers
know it, and intimate friends like the brothers Goncourt, to say nothing
of people who stand in so close a rapport with each other as a
hypnotiser and his subject. And even where there is no previous
sympathetic relation, a state of joy or sadness may often, if it is only
distinctly expressed, pass over, so to say, from the individual who has
been under the influence of its objective cause, to another who, as it
were, borrows the feeling, but remains unconscious of its cause. We
experience this phenomenon almost daily in the influence exerted upon us
by social intercourse, and even by those aspects of nature--for
instance, blue open sky or overhanging mountains--which naturally call
up in us the physical manifestation of emotional states. The coercive
force with which our surroundings--animate or inanimate--compel us to
adopt the feelings which are suggested by their attitudes, forms, or
movements, is perhaps as a rule too weak to be noticed by a
self-controlled, unemotional man. But if we want an example of this
influence at its strongest, we need but remember how difficult it is for
an individual to resist the contagion of collective feeling. On public
occasions the common mood, whether of joy or sorrow, is often
communicated even to those who were originally possessed by the opposite
feeling. So powerful is the infection of great excitement
that--according to M. Féré--even a perfectly sober man who takes part in
a drinking bout may often be tempted to join in the antics of his
drunken comrades in a sort of second-hand intoxication, "drunkenness by
induction." In the great mental epidemics of the Middle Ages this kind
of contagion operated with more fatal results than ever before or
afterward. But even in modern times a popular street riot may often show
us something of the same phenomenon. The great tumult in London in 1886
afforded, it is said, a good opportunity of observing how people who had
originally maintained an indifferent attitude were gradually carried
away by the general excitement, even to the extent of joining in the
outrages. In this instance the contagious effect of expressional
movements was undoubtedly facilitated by their connection with so
primary an impulse as that of rapine and destruction. But the case is
the same with all the activities which appear as the outward
manifestations of our strongest feeling-states. They all consist of
instinctive actions with which everyone is well familiar from his own
experience. It is therefore natural that anger, hate, or love may be
communicated almost automatically from an individual to masses, and from
masses to individuals.
Now that the principle of the interindividual diffusion of feeling has
been stated and explained, we may return to our main line of research
and examine its bearings on the expressional impulse. We have seen that
in the social surroundings of the individual there is enacted a process
resembling that which takes place within his own organism. Just as
functional modifications spread from organ to organ, just as wider and
wider zones of the system are brought into participation in the primary
enhancement or inhibition, so a feeling is diffused from an individual
to a circle of sympathisers who repeat its expressional movements. And
just as all the widened "somatic resonances" contribute to the primary
feeling-tone increased strength and increased definiteness, so must the
emotional state of an individual be enhanced by retroactive stimulation
from the expressions by which the state has, so to say, been continued
in others. By the reciprocal action of primary movements and borrowed
movements, which mutually imitate each other, the social expression
operates in the same way as the individual expression. And we are
entitled to consider it as a secondary result of the general
expressional impulse, that when mastered by an overpowering feeling we
seek enhancement or relief by retroaction from sympathisers, who
reproduce and in their expression represent the mental state by which we
are dominated.
In point of fact, we can observe in the manifestations of all strong
feelings which have not found a satisfactory relief in individual
expression, a pursuit of social resonance. A happy man wants to see glad
faces around him, in order that from their expression he may derive
further nourishment and increase for his own feeling. Hence the
benevolent attitude of mind which as a rule accompanies all strong and
pure joy. Hence also the widespread tendency to express joy by gifts or
hospitality. In moods of depression we similarly desire a response to
our feeling from our surroundings. In the depth of despair we may long
for a universal cataclysm to extend, as it were, our own pain. As joy
naturally makes men good, so pain often makes them hard and cruel. That
this is not always the case is a result of the increased power of
sympathy which we gain by every experienced pain. Moreover, we have need
of sympathetic rapport for our motor reactions against pain. All the
active manifestations of sorrow, despair, or anger which are not wholly
painful in themselves are facilitated by the reciprocal influence of
collective excitement. Thus all strong feelings, whether pleasurable or
painful, act as socialising factors. This socialising action may be
observed at all stages of development. Even the animals seek their
fellows in order to stimulate themselves and each other by the common
expression of an overpowering feeling. As has been remarked by Espinas,
the flocking together of the male birds during the pairing season is
perhaps as much due to this craving for mutual stimulation as to the
desire to compete for the favor of the hen. The howling choirs of the
macaws and the drum concerts of the chimpanzees are still better and
unmistakable instances of collective emotional expression. In man we
find the results of the same craving for social expression in the
gatherings for rejoicing or mourning which are to be met with in all
tribes, of all degrees of development. And as a still higher development
of the same fundamental impulse, there appears in man the artistic
activity.
The more conscious our craving for retroaction from sympathisers, the
more there must also be developed in us a conscious endeavor to cause
the feeling to be appropriated by as many as possible and as completely
as possible. The expressional impulse is not satisfied by the resonance
which an occasional public, however sympathetic, is able to afford. Its
natural aim is to bring more and more sentient beings under the
influence of the same emotional state. It seeks to vanquish the
refractory and arouse the indifferent. An echo, a true and powerful
echo--that is what it desires with all the energy of an unsatisfied
longing. As a result of this craving the expressional activities lead to
artistic production. The work of art presents itself as the most
effective means by which the individual is enabled to convey to wider
and wider circles of sympathisers an emotional state similar to that by
which he is himself dominated.
E. SUGGESTION
1. A Sociological Definition of Suggestion[151]
The nature of suggestion manifestly consists not in any external
peculiarities whatever. It is based upon the peculiar kind of relation
of the person making the suggestion to the "ego" of the subject during
the reception and realization of the suggestion.
Suggestion, is, in general, one of many means of influence of man on man
that is exercised with or without intention on persons, who respond
either consciously or unconsciously.
For a closer acquaintance with what we call "suggestion," it may be
observed that our perceptive activities are divided into (a) active,
and (b) passive.
a) _Active perception._--In the first case the "ego" of the subject
necessarily takes a part, and according to the trend of our thinking or
to the environmental circumstances directs the attention to these or
those external impressions. These, since they enter the mind through the
participation of attention and will and through reflection and judgment,
are assimilated and permanently incorporated in the personal
consciousness or in our "ego." This type of perception leads to an
enrichment of our personal consciousness and lies at the bottom of our
points of view and convictions. The organization of more or less
definite convictions is the product of the process of reflection
instituted by active perception. These convictions, before they become
the possession of our personal consciousness, may conceal themselves
awhile in the so-called subconsciousness. They are capable of being
aroused at any moment at the desire of the "ego" whenever certain
experienced representations are reproduced.
b) _Passive perception._--In contrast to active perception we perceive
much from the environment in a passive manner without that participation
of the "ego." This occurs when our attention is diverted in any
particular direction or concentrated on a certain thought, and when its
continuity for one or another reason is broken up, which, for instance,
occurs in cases of so-called distraction. In these cases the object of
the perception does not enter into the personal consciousness, but it
makes its way into other spheres of our mind, which we call the general
consciousness. The general consciousness is to a certain degree
independent of the personal consciousness. For this reason everything
that enters into the general consciousness cannot be introduced at will
into the personal consciousness. Nevertheless products of the general
consciousness make their way into the sphere of the personal
consciousness, without awareness by it of their original derivation.
In passive perception, without any participation of attention, a whole
series of varied impressions flow in upon us and press in past our "ego"
directly to the general consciousness. These impressions are the sources
of those influences from the outer world so unintelligible even to
ourselves, which determine our emotional attitudes and those obscure
motives and impulses which often possess us in certain situations.
The general consciousness, in this way, plays a permanent rôle in the
spiritual life of the individual. Now and then an impression passively
received in the train of an accidental chain of ideas makes its way into
the sphere of the personal consciousness as a mental image, whose
novelty astounds us. In specific cases this image or illusion takes the
form of a peculiar voice, a vision, or even a hallucination, whose
origin undoubtedly lies in the general consciousness. When the personal
consciousness is in abeyance, as in sleep or in profound hypnosis, the
activity of the general consciousness comes into the foreground. The
activity of the general consciousness is limited neither by our ways of
viewing things nor by the conditions under which the personal
consciousness operates. On this account, in a dream and in profound
hypnosis acts appear feasible and possible which with our full personal
consciousness we would not dare to contemplate.
This division of our mind into a personal and a general consciousness
affords a basis for a clear understanding of the principles of
suggestion. The personal consciousness, the so-called "ego," aided by
the will and attention, largely controls the reception of external
impressions, influences the trend of our ideas, and determines the
execution of our voluntary behavior. Every impression that the personal
consciousness transmits to the mind is usually subject to a definite
criticism and remodeling which results in the development of our points
of view and of our convictions.
This mode of influence from the outer world upon our mind is that of
"logical conviction." As the final result of that inner reconstruction
of impressions appears always the conviction: "This is true, that
useful, inevitable, etc." We can say this inwardly when any
reconstruction of the impressions has been affected in us through the
activity of the personal consciousness. Many impressions get into our
mind without our remarking them. In case of distraction, when our
voluntary attention is in abeyance, the impression from without evades
our personal consciousness and enters the mind without coming into
contact with the "ego." Not through the front door, but--so to speak--up
the back steps, it gets, in this case, directly into the inner rooms of
the soul.
Suggestion may now be defined as the direct infection of one person by
another of certain mental states. In other words, suggestion is the
penetration or inoculation of a strange idea into the consciousness,
without direct immediate participation of the "ego" of the subject.
Moreover, the personal consciousness in general appears quite incapable
of rejecting the suggestion, even when the "ego" detects its
irrationality. Since the suggestion enters the mind without the active
aid of the "ego," it remains outside the borders of the personal
consciousness. All further effects of the suggestion, therefore, take
place without the control of the "ego."
By the term suggestion we do not usually understand the effect upon the
mind of the totality of external stimuli, but the influence of person
upon person which takes place through passive perception and is
therefore independent of the activity of the personal consciousness.
Suggestion is, moreover, to be distinguished from the other type of
influences operating through mental processes of attention and the
participation of the personal consciousness, which result in logical
convictions and the development of definite points of view.
Lowenfeld emphasized a distinction between the actual process of
"suggesting" and its result, which one simply calls "suggestion." It is
self-evident that these are two different processes, which should not be
mistaken for each other. A more adequate definition might be accepted,
which embraces at once the characteristic manner of the "suggesting,"
and the result of its activity.
Therefore for suggestion it is not alone the process itself that is
characteristic, or the kind of psychic influence, but also the result
of this reaction. For that reason I do not understand under "suggesting"
alone a definite sort and manner of influence upon man but at the same
time the eventual result of it; and under "suggestion" not only a
definite psychical result but to a certain degree also the manner in
which this result was obtained.
An essential element of the concept of suggestion is, first of all, a
pronounced directness of action. Whether a suggestion takes place
through words or through attitudes, impressions, or acts, whether it is
a case of a verbal or of a concrete suggestion, makes no difference here
so long as its effect is never obtained through logical conviction. On
the other hand, the suggestion is always immediately directed to the
mind by evading the personal consciousness, or at least without previous
recasting by the "ego" of the subject. This process represents a real
infection of ideas, feelings, emotions, or other psychophysical states.
In the same manner there arise somewhat similar mental states known as
auto-suggestion. These do not require an external influence for their
appearance but originate immediately in the mind itself. Such is the
case, for instance, when any sort of an image forces itself into the
consciousness as something complete, whether it is in the form of an
idea that suddenly emerges and dominates consciousness, or a vision, a
premonition, or the like.
In all these cases psychic influences which have arisen without external
stimulus have directly inoculated the mind, thereby evading the
criticism of the "ego" or of personal consciousness.
"Suggesting" signifies, therefore, to inoculate the mind of a person
more or less directly with ideas, feelings, emotions, and other
psychical states, in order that no opportunity is left for criticism and
consideration. Under "suggestion," on the other hand, is to be
understood that sort of direct inoculation of the mind of an individual
with ideas, feelings, emotions, and other psychophysical states which
evade his "ego," his personal self-consciousness, and his critical
attitude.
Now and then, especially in the French writers, one will find besides
"suggestion" the term "psychic contagion," under which, however, nothing
further than involuntary imitation is to be understood (compare A.
Vigouroux and P. Juquelier, _La contagion mentale_, Paris, 1905). If one
takes up the conception of suggestion in a wider sense, and considers
by it the possibility of involuntary suggestion in the way of example
and imitation, one will find that the conceptions of suggestion and of
psychic contagion depend upon each other most intimately, and to a great
extent are not definitely to be distinguished from each other. In any
case, it is to be maintained that a strict boundary between psychic
contagion and suggestion does not always exist, a fact which Vigouroux
and Juquelier in their paper have rightly emphasized.
2. The Subtler Forms of Suggestion[152]
In one very particular respect hypnotism has given us a lesson of the
greatest importance to psychology: it has proved that special
precautionary measures must be taken in planning psychological
experiments. The training of hypnotics has thrown light on this source
of error. A hypnotizer may, often without knowing it, by the tone of his
voice or by some slight movement cause the hypnotic to exhibit phenomena
that at first could only be produced by explicit verbal suggestion, and
that altogether the signs used by the hypnotizer to cause suggestions
may go on increasing in delicacy. A dangerous source of error is
provided by the hypnotic's endeavor to divine and obey the
experimenter's intentions. This observation has also proved useful in
non-hypnotic experiments. We certainly knew before the days of hypnotism
that the signs by which A betrays his thoughts to B may gradually become
more delicate. We see this, for example, in the case of the schoolboy,
who gradually learns how to detect from the slightest movement made by
his master whether the answer he gave was right or not. We find the same
sort of thing in the training of animals--the horse, for instance, in
which the rough methods at first employed are gradually toned down until
in the end an extremely slight movement made by the trainer produces the
same effect that the rougher movements did originally. But even if this
lessening in the intensity of the signals exists independently of
hypnosis, it is the latter that has shown us how easily neglect of this
factor may lead to erroneous conclusions being drawn. The suggestibility
of the hypnotic makes these infinitesimal signals specially dangerous in
his case. But when once this danger was recognized, greater attention
was paid to this source of error in non-hypnotic cases than before. It
is certain that many psychological experiments are vitiated by the fact
that the subject knows what the experimenter wishes. Results are thus
brought about that can only be looked upon as the effects of suggestion;
they do not depend on the external conditions of the experiment but on
what is passing in the mind of the subject.
An event which at the time of its occurrence created a considerable
commotion (I refer to the case of Clever Hans), will show how far we may
be led by neglecting the above lesson taught us by hypnotism. If the
Berlin psychologist Stumpf, the scientific director of the committee of
investigation, had but taken into consideration the teachings of
hypnotism, he would never have made the fiasco of admitting that the
horse, Clever Hans, had been educated like a boy, not trained like an
animal.
Clever Hans answered questions by tapping his hoof on the stage; and the
observers, more particularly the committee presided over by Stumpf,
believed that answers tapped out were the result of due deliberation on
the part of the horse, exactly as spiritists believe that the spirits
hold intelligent intercourse with them by means of "raps." One tap
denoted a, two taps b, three taps c, etc.; or, where numbers were
concerned, one tap signified 1, two taps 2, etc. In this way the animal
answered the most complicated questions. For instance, it apparently not
only solved such problems as 3 times 4 by tapping 12 times, and 6 times
3 by tapping 18 times, but even extracted square roots, distinguished
between concords and discords, also between ten different colors, and
was able to recognize the photographs of people; altogether, Clever Hans
was supposed to be at that time about upon a level with fifth-form boys
(the fifth form is the lowest form but one in a German gymnasium). After
investigating the matter, Stumpf and the members of his committee drew
up the following conjoint report, according to which only one of two
things was possible--either the horse could think and calculate
independently, or else he was under telepathic, perhaps occult,
influence:
The undersigned met together to decide whether there was any
trickery in the performance given by Herr v. Osten with his
horse, i.e., whether the latter was helped or influenced
intentionally. As the result of the exhaustive tests employed,
they have come to the unanimous conclusion that, apart from the
personal character of Herr v. Osten, with which most of them
were well acquainted, the precautions taken during the
investigation altogether precluded any such assumption.
Notwithstanding the most careful observation, they were well
unable to detect any gestures, movements, or other intimations
that might serve as signs to the horse. To exclude the possible
influence of involuntary movements on the part of spectators, a
series of experiments was carried out solely in the presence of
Herr Busch, councilor of commissions. In some of these
experiments, tricks of the kind usually employed by trainers
were, in his judgment as an expert, excluded. Another series of
experiments was so arranged that Herr v. Osten himself could
not know the answer to the question he was putting to the
horse. From previous personal observations, moreover, the
majority of the undersigned knew of numerous individual cases
in which other persons had received correct answers in the
momentary absence of Herr v. Osten and Herr Schillings. These
cases also included some in which the questioner was either
ignorant of the solution or only had an erroneous notion of
what it should be. Finally, some of the undersigned have a
personal knowledge of Herr v. Osten's method, which is
essentially different from ordinary "training" and is copied
from the system of instruction employed in primary schools. In
the opinion of the undersigned, the collective results of these
observations show that even unintentional signs of the kind at
present known were excluded. It is their unanimous opinion that
we have here to deal with a case that differs in principle from
all former and apparently similar cases; that it has nothing to
do with "training" in the accepted sense of the word, and that
it is consequently deserving of earnest and searching
scientific investigation. Berlin, September 12, 1904. [Here
follow the signatures, among which is that of Privy Councilor
Dr. C. Stumpf, university professor, director of the
Psychological Institute, member of the Berlin Academy of
Sciences.]
Anyone who has done critical work in the domain of hypnotism after the
manner insisted on by the Nancy school cannot help considering Stumpf's
method of investigation erroneous from the very outset. A first source
of error that had to be considered was that someone present--it
might have been Herr v. Osten or it might have been anyone
else--unintentionally had given the horse a sign when to stop tapping.
It cannot be considered sufficient, as stated in Stumpf's report, that
Herr v. Osten did not know the answer; no one should be present who
knows it. This is the first condition to be fulfilled when making such
experiments. Anybody who has been engaged in training hypnotized
subjects knows that these insignificant signs constitute one of the
chief sources of error. Some of the leading modern investigators in the
domain of hypnotism--Charcot and Heidenhain, for instance--were misled
by them at the time they thought they had discovered new physical
reflexes in hypnosis. But in 1904, by which time suggestion had been
sufficiently investigated to prevent such an occurrence, a psychologist
should not have fallen into an error that had been sufficiently made
more than twenty years previously. But the main point is this: signs
that are imperceptible to others are nevertheless perceived by a subject
trained to do so, no matter whether that subject be a human being or an
animal.
3. Social Suggestion and Mass or "Corporate" Action[153]
In most cases the crowd naturally is under leaders, who, with an
instinctive consciousness of the importance and strength of the crowd,
seek to direct it much more through the power of suggestion than by
sound conviction.
It is conceivable, therefore, that anyone who understands how to arrest
the attention of the crowd, may always influence it to do great deeds,
as history, indeed, sufficiently witnesses. One may recall from the
history of Russia Minin, who with a slogan saved his native land from
the gravest danger. His "Pawn your wife and child, and free your
fatherland" necessarily acted as a powerful suggestion on the already
intense crowd. How the crowd and its sentiments may be controlled is
indicated in the following account by Boris Sidis:
On the 11th of August, 1895, there took place in the open air a
meeting at Old Orchard, Maine. The business at hand was a
collection for missionary purposes. The preacher resorted to
the following suggestions: "The most remarkable remembrance
which I have of foreign lands is that of multitudes, the waves
of lost humanity who ceaselessly are shattered on the shores of
eternity. How despairing are they, how poor in love--their
religion knows no joy, no pleasure, nor song. Once I heard a
Chinaman say why he was a Christian. It seemed to him that he
lay in a deep abyss, out of which he could not escape. Have you
ever wept for the sake of the lost world, as did Jesus Christ?
If not, then woe to you. Your religion is then only a dream and
a blind. We see Christ test his disciples. Will he take them
with him? My beloved, today he will test you. [Indirect
suggestion.] He could convert a thousand millionaires, but he
gives you an opportunity to be saved. [More direct suggestion.]
Are you strong enough in faith? [Here follows a discussion
about questions of faith.] Without faith God can do no great
things. I believe that Jesus will appear to them who believe
firmly in him. My dear ones, if only you give for the sake of
God, you have become participants in the faith. [Still more
direct suggestion.] The youth with the five loaves and the two
little fishes [the story follows]. When everything was ended,
he did not lose his loaves; there were twelve baskets left
over. O my dear ones, how will that return! Sometime the King
of Kings will call to you and give you an empire of glory, and
simply because you have had a little faith in him. It is a day
of much import to you. Sometime God will show us how much
better he has guarded our treasure than we ourselves." The
suggestion had the desired effect. Money streamed from all
sides; hundreds became thousands, tens of thousands. The crowd
gave seventy thousand dollars.
Of analogous importance are the factors of suggestions in wars, where
the armies go to brilliant victories. Discipline and the sense of duty
unite the troops into a single mighty giant's body. To develop its full
strength, however, this body needs some inspiration through a suggested
idea, which finds an active echo in the hearts of the soldiers.
Maintenance of the warlike spirit in decisive moments is one of the most
important problems for the ingenious general.
Even when the last ray of hope for victory seems to have disappeared,
the call of an honored war chief, like a suggestive spark, may fire the
hosts to self-sacrifice and heroism. A trumpet signal, a cry "hurrah,"
the melody of the national hymn, can here at the decisive moment have
incalculable effects. There is no need to recall the rôle of the
"Marsellaise" in the days of the French Revolution. The agencies of
suggestion in such cases make possible, provided that they are only able
to remove the feeling of hopelessness, results which a moment before are
neither to be anticipated nor expected. Where will and the sense of duty
alone seem powerless, the mechanisms of suggestion may develop
surprising effects.
Excited masses are, it is well known, capable of the most inhuman
behavior, and indeed for the very reason that, instead of sound logic,
automatism and impulsiveness have entered in as direct results of
suggestion. The modern barbarities of the Americans in the shape of
lynch law for criminals or those who are only under a suspicion of a
crime redound to the shame of the land of freedom, but find their full
explanation in that impulsiveness of the crowd which knows no mercy.
The multitude can, therefore, ever be led according to the content of
the ideas suggested to it, as well to sublime and noble deeds as, on the
other hand, to expressions of the lower and barbaric instincts. That is
the art of manipulating the masses.
It is a mistake to regard popular assemblies who have adopted a certain
uniform idea simply as a sum of single elements, as is now and then
attempted. For one is dealing in such cases, not with accidental, but
with actual psychical, processes of fusion, which reciprocal suggestion
is to a high degree effective in establishing and maintaining. The
aggressiveness of the single elements of the mass arrives in this at
their high point at one and the same time, and with complete spiritual
unanimity the mass can now act as _one_ man; it moves, then, like one
enormous social body, which unites in itself the thoughts and feelings
of all by the very fact that there is a temper of mind common to all.
Easily, however, as the crowd is to excite to the highest degrees of
activity, as quickly--indeed, much more quickly--does it allow itself,
as we have already seen, to be dispersed by a panic. Here too the panic
rests entirely on suggestion, contra-suggestion, and the instinct of
imitation, not on logic and conviction. Automatism, not intelligence, is
the moving factor therein.
Other, but quite generally favorable, conditions for suggestions are
universally at hand in the human society, whose individual members in
contrast to the crowd are physically separated from each other but stand
in a spiritual alliance to each other. Here obviously those preliminary
conditions for the dissemination of psychical infections are lacking as
they exist in the crowd, and the instruments of the voice, of mimicry,
of gestures, which often fire the passions with lightning rapidity, are
not allowed to assert themselves. There exists much rather a certain
spiritual cohesion on the ground perhaps of common impressions
(theatrical representations), a similar direction of thoughts (articles
in periodicals, etc.). These conditions are quite sufficient to prepare
the foundation on which similar feelings propagate themselves from
individual to individual by the method of suggestion and
auto-suggestion, and similar decisions for many are matured.
Things occur here more slowly, more peacefully, without those passionate
outbreaks to which the crowd is subjected; but this slow infection
establishes itself all the more surely in the feelings, while the
infection of the crowd often only continues for a time until the latter
is broken up.
Moreover, such contagious examples in the public do not usually lead to
such unexpected movements as they easily induce in the crowd. But here,
too, the infection frequently acts in defiance of a man's sound
intelligence; complete points of view are accepted upon trust and faith,
without further discussion, and frequently immature resolutions are
formed. On the boards representing the stage of the world there are ever
moving idols, who after the first storm of admiration which they call
out, sink back into oblivion. The fame of the people's leaders maintains
itself in quite the same way by means of psychical infection through the
similar national interest of a unified group. It has often happened that
their brightness was extinguished with the first opposition which the
masses saw setting its face against their wishes and ideals. What we,
however, see in close popular masses recurs to a certain degree in every
social milieu, in every larger society.
Between the single elements of such social spheres there occur
uninterrupted psychical infections and contra-infections. Ever according
to the nature of the material of the infection that has been received,
the individual feels himself attracted to the sublime and the noble, or
to the lower and bestial. Is, then, the intercourse between teacher and
pupil, between friends, between lovers, uninfluenced by reciprocal
suggestion? Suicide pacts and other mutual acts present a certain
participation of interacting suggestion. Yet more. Hardly a single deed
whatever occurs that stands out over the everyday, hardly a crime is
committed, without the concurrence of third persons, direct or indirect,
not unseldom bearing a likeness to the effects of suggestion.
We must here admit that Tarde was right when he said that it is less
difficult to find crimes of the crowd than to discover crimes which were
not such and which would indicate no sort of promotion or participation
of the environment. That is true to such a degree that one may ask
whether there are any individual crimes at all, as the question is also
conceivable whether there are any works of genius which do not have a
collective character.
Many believe that crimes are always pondered. A closer insight into the
behavior of criminals testifies, however, in many cases that even when
there is a long period of indecision, a single encouraging word from the
environment, an example with a suggestive effect, is quite sufficient to
scatter all considerations and to bring the criminal intention to the
deed. In organized societies, too, a mere nod from the chief may often
lead with magic power to a crime.
The ideas, efforts, and behavior of the individual may by no means be
looked on as something sharply distinct, individually peculiar, since
from the form and manner of these ideas, efforts, and behavior, there
shines forth ever, more or less, the influence of the milieu.
In close connection with this fact there stands also the so-called
astringent effect of the milieu upon the individuals who are incapable
of rising out of their environment, of stepping out of it. In society
that bacillus for which one has found the name "suggestion" appears
certainly as a leveling element, and, accordingly, whether the
individual stands higher or lower than his environment, whether he
becomes worse or better under its influence, he always loses or gains
something from the contact with others. This is the basis of the great
importance of suggestion as a factor in imposing a social uniformity
upon individuals.
The power of suggestion and contra-suggestion, however, extends yet
further. It enhances sentiments and aims and enkindles the activity of
the masses to an unusual degree.
Many historical personages who knew how to embody in themselves the
emotions and the desires of the masses--we may think of Jeanne d'Arc,
Mahomet, Peter the Great, Napoleon I--were surrounded with a nimbus by
the more or less blind belief of the people in their genius; this
frequently acted with suggestive power upon the surrounding company
which it carried away with a magic force to its leaders, and supported
and aided the mission historically vested in the latter by means of
their spiritual superiority. A nod from a beloved leader of any army is
sufficient to enkindle anew the courage of the regiment and to lead them
irresistibly into sure death.
Many, it is well known, are still inclined to deny the individual
personality any influence upon the course of historic events. The
individual is to them only an expression of the views of the mass, an
embodiment of the epoch, something, therefore, that cannot actively
strike at the course of history; he is much rather himself heaved up out
of the mass by historic events, which, unaffected by the individual,
proceed in the courses they have themselves chosen.
We forget in such a theory the influences of the suggestive factors
which, independently of endowments and of energy, appear as a mighty
lever in the hands of the fortunately situated nature and of those
created to be the rulers of the masses. That the individual reflects his
environment and his time, that the events of world-history only take
their course upon an appropriately prepared basis and under
appropriately favorable circumstances, no one will deny. There rests,
however, in the masters of speech and writing, in the demagogues and the
favorites of the people, in the great generals and statesmen, an inner
power which welds together the masses for battle for an ideal, sweeps
them away to heroism, and fires them to do deeds which leave enduring
impressions in the history of humanity.
I believe, therefore, that suggestion as an active agent should be the
object of the most attentive study for the historians and the
sociologists. Where this factor is not reckoned with, a whole series of
historical and social phenomena is threatened with the danger of
incomplete, insufficient, and perhaps even incorrect elucidation.
III. INVESTIGATIONS AND PROBLEMS
1. The Process of Interaction
The concept of universal interaction was first formulated in philosophy.
Kant listed community or reciprocity among his dynamic categories. In
the Herbartian theory of a world of coexisting individuals, the notion
of reciprocal action was central. The distinctive contribution of Lotze
was his recognition that interaction of the parts implies the unity of
the whole since external action implies internal changes in the
interacting objects. Ormond in his book _The Foundations of Knowledge_
completes this philosophical conception by embodying in it a conclusion
based on social psychology. Just as society is constituted by
interacting persons whose innermost nature, as a result of interaction,
is internal to each, so the universe is constituted by the totality of
interacting units internally predisposed to interaction as elements and
products of the process.
In sociology, Gumplowicz arrived at the notions of a "natural social
process" and of "reciprocal action of heterogeneous elements" in his
study of the conflict of races. Ratzenhofer, Simmel, and Small place the
social process and socialization central in their systems of sociology.
Cooley's recent book _The Social Process_ is an intimate and sympathetic
exposition of "interaction" and the "social process." "Society is a
complex of forms or processes each of which is living and growing by
interaction with the others, the whole being so unified that what takes
place in one part affects all the rest. It is a vast tissue of
reciprocal activity, differentiated into innumerable systems, some of
them quite distinct, others not readily traceable, and all interwoven to
such a degree that you see different systems according to the point of
view you take."[154]
This brief résumé of the general literature upon the social process and
social interaction is introductory to an examination of the more
concrete material upon communication, imitation, and suggestion.
2. Communication
"Many works have been written on Expression, but a greater number on
Physiognomy" wrote Charles Darwin in 1872. Physiognomy, or the
interpretation of character through the observation of the features, has
long been relegated by the scientific world to the limbo occupied by
astrology, alchemy, phrenology, and the practice of charlatans.
While positive contributions to an appreciation of human expression were
made before Darwin, as by Sir Charles Bell, Pierre Gratiolet, and Dr.
Piderit, his volume on _The Expression of the Emotions in Man and
Animals_ marked an epoch in the thinking upon the subject. Although his
three principles of utility, antithesis, and direct nervous discharge to
explain the signs of emotions may be open to question, as the
physiological psychologist, Wilhelm Wundt, asserts, the great value of
his contribution is generally conceded. His convincing demonstration of
the universal similarity of emotional expression in the various human
races, a similarity based on a common human inheritance, prepared the
way for further study.
Darwin assumed that the emotion was a mental state which preceded and
caused its expression. According to the findings of later observation,
popularly known as the James-Lange Theory, the emotion is the mental
sign of a behavior change whose external aspects constitute the
so-called "expression." The important point brought out by this new view
of the emotion was an emphasis upon the nature of physiological changes
involved in emotional response. Certain stimuli affect visceral
processes and thereby modify the perception of external objects.
The impetus to research upon this subject given by Darwin was first
manifest in the reports of observation upon the expression of different
emotions. Fear, anger, joy, were made the subjects of individual
monographs. Several brilliant essays, as those by Sully, Dugas, and
Bergson, appeared in one field alone, that of laughter. In the last
decade there has been a distinct tendency toward the experimental study
of the physiological and chemical changes which constitute the inner
aspect of emotional responses, as for example, the report of Cannon upon
his studies in his book _Bodily Changes in Pain, Hunger, Fear, and
Rage_.
Simultaneous with this study of the physiological aspect of the
emotional responses went further observation of its expression, the
manifestation of the emotion. The research upon the communication of
emotions and ideas proceeded from natural signs to gesture and finally
to language. Genetic psychologists pointed out that the natural gesture
is an abbreviated act. Mallery's investigation upon "Sign Language among
North American Indians Compared with that among Other Peoples and Deaf
Mutes" disclosed the high development of communication by gestures among
Indian tribes. Wilhelm Wundt in his study of the origin of speech
indicated the intimate relation between language and gesture in his
conclusion that speech is vocal gesture. Similarly research in the
origin of writing derives it, as indicated earlier in this chapter,
through the intermediate form of pictographs from pictures.
The significance for social life of the extension of communication
through inventions has impressed ethnologists, historians, and
sociologists. The ethnologist determines the beginnings of ancient
civilization by the invention of writing. Historians have noted and
emphasized the relation of the printing press to the transition from
medieval to modern society. Graham Wallas in his _Great Society_
interprets modern society as a creation of the machine and of the
artificial means of communication.
Sociological interest in language and writing is turning from studies of
origins to investigations of their function in group life. Material is
now available which indicates the extent to which the group may be
studied through its language. Accordingly the point of view for the
study of orthodox speech, or "correct" English, is that of the
continuity of society; just as the standpoint for the study of heterodox
language, or "slang," is that of the life of the group at the moment.
The significance of the fact that "every group has its own language" is
being recognized in its bearings upon research. Studies of dialects of
isolated groups, of the argot of social classes, of the technical terms
of occupational groups, of the precise terminology of scientific groups
suggest the wide range of concrete materials. The expression "different
universes of discourse" indicates how communication separates as well as
unites persons and groups.
3. Imitation
Bagehot's _Physics and Politics_ published in 1872, with its chapter on
"Imitation," was the first serious account of the nature of the rôle of
imitation in social life. Gabriel Tarde, a French magistrate, becoming
interested in imitation as an explanation of the behavior of criminals,
undertook an extensive observation of its effects in the entire field of
human activities. In his book _Laws of Imitation_, published in 1890, he
made imitation synonymous with all intermental activity. "I have always
given it (imitation) a very precise and characteristic meaning, that of
the action at a distance of one mind upon another.... By imitation I
mean every impression of interpsychical photography, so to speak, willed
or not willed, passive or active."[155] "The unvarying characteristic of
every social fact whatsoever is that it is imitative, and this
characteristic belongs exclusively to social facts."[156]
In this unwarranted extension of the concept of imitation Tarde
undeniably had committed the unpardonable sin of science, i.e., he
substituted for the careful study and patient observation of imitative
behavior, easy and glittering generalizations upon uniformities in
society. Contributions to an understanding of the actual process of
imitation came from psychologists. Baldwin brought forward the concept
of circular reaction to explain the interrelation of stimulus and
response in imitation. He also indicated the place of imitation in
personal development in his description of the dialectic of personal
growth where the self develops in a process of give-and-take with other
selves. Dewey, Stout, Mead, Henderson, and others, emphasizing the
futility of the mystical explanation of imitation by imitation, have
pointed out the influence of interest and attention upon imitation as a
learning process. Mead, with keen analysis of the social situation,
interprets imitation as the process by which the person practices rôles
in social life. The studies of Thorndike may be mentioned as
representative of the important experimental research upon this subject.
4. Suggestion
The reflective study of imitation originated in attempts at the
explanation of uniformities in the behavior of individuals. Research in
suggestion began in the narrow but mysterious field of the occult. In
1765 Mesmer secured widespread attention by advancing the theory that
heavenly bodies influence human beings by means of a subtle fluid which
he called "animal magnetism." Abbé Faria, who came to Paris from India
in 1814-15, demonstrated by experiments that the cause of the hypnotic
sleep was subjective. With the experiments in 1841 of Dr. James Braid,
the originator of the term "hypnotism," the scientific phase of the
development of hypnotism began. The acceptance of the facts of hypnotism
by the scientific world was the result of the work of Charcot and his
students of the so-called Nancy School of Psychology.
From the study of hypnotism to observation upon the rôle of suggestion
in social life was a short step. Binet, Sidis, Münsterberg have
formulated psychological definitions of suggestion and indicated its
significance for an understanding of so-called crowd phenomena in human
behavior. Bechterew in his monograph _Die Bedeutung der Suggestion im
Sozialen Leben_ has presented an interpretation of distinct value for
sociological research. At the present time there are many promising
developments in the study of suggestion in special fields, such as
advertising, leadership, politics, religion.
SELECTED BIBLIOGRAPHY
I. INTERACTION AND SOCIAL INTERACTION
(1) Lotze, Hermann. _Metaphysic._ Vol. I, chap, vi, "The Unity of
Things." Oxford, 1887.
(2) Ormond, Alexander T. _Foundations of Knowledge._ Chap, vii,
"Community or Interaction." London and New York, 1900.
(3) Gumplowicz, L. _Der Rassenkampf._ Sociologische Untersuchungen. Pp.
158-75. Innsbruck, 1883.
(4) Simmel, Georg. "Über sociale Differenzierung, sociologische und
psychologische Untersuchungen." _Staats- und Socialwissenschaftliche
Forschungen_, edited by G. Schmoller. Vol. X. Leipzig, 1891.
(5) Royce, J. _The World and the Individual._ 2d ser. "Nature, Man, and
the Moral Order," Lecture IV. "Physical and Social Reality." London and
New York, 1901.
(6) Boodin, J. E. "Social Systems," _American Journal of Sociology_,
XXIII (May, 1918), 705-34.
(7) Tosti, Gustavo. "Social Psychology and Sociology," _The
Psychological Review_, V (July, 1898), 348-61.
(8) Small, Albion W. _General Sociology._ Chicago, 1905.
(9) Cooley, Charles H. _The Social Process._ New York, 1918.
II. SOCIAL INTERACTION AND SOCIAL CONSCIOUSNESS
(1) Marshall, Henry R. _Consciousness._ Chap, vii, "Of Consciousnesses
More Complex than Human Consciousnesses." New York and London, 1909.
(2) Baldwin, James Mark. _Social and Ethical Interpretations in Mental
Development._ A study in social psychology. New York and London, 1906.
(3) Royce, Josiah. "Self-Consciousness, Social Consciousness and
Nature," _Philosophical Review_, IV (1895), 465-85; 577-602.
(4) ----. "The External World and the Social Consciousness,"
_Philosophical Review_, III (1894), 513-45.
(5) Worms, René. _Organisme et Société._ Chap. x, "Fonctions de
Relation." Paris, 1896.
(6) Mead, G. H. "Social Consciousness and the Consciousness of Meaning,"
_Psychological Bulletin_, VII (Dec. 15, 1910), 397-405.
(7) ----. "Psychology of Social Consciousness Implied in Instruction,"
_Science_, N. S., XXI (1910), 688-93.
(8) Novicow, J. _Conscience et volonté sociales._ Paris, 1897.
(9) McDougall, W. _The Group Mind._ A sketch of the principles of
collective psychology with some attempt to apply them to the
interpretation of national life and character. New York and London,
1920.
(10) Ames, Edward S. "Religion in Terms of Social Consciousness," _The
Journal of Religion_, I (1921), 264-70.
(11) Burgess, E. W. _The Function of Socialization in Social Evolution._
Chicago, 1916.
(12) Maciver, R. M. _Community._ A sociological study, being an attempt
to set out the nature and fundamental laws of social life. London, 1917.
III. COMMUNICATION AND INTERACTION
A. _The Emotions and Emotional Expression_
(1) James, William. _The Principles of Psychology._ Vol. II, chap. xxv.
New York, 1896.
(2) Dewey, John. "The Theory of Emotion," _Psychological Review_, I
(1894), 553-69; II (1895), 13-32.
(3) Wundt, Wilhelm. _Grundzüge der physiologischen Psychologie._ 3 vols.
6th ed. Leipzig, 1908-11.
(4) Ribot, T. _The Psychology of the Emotions._ London and New York,
1898.
(5) Darwin, Charles. _The Expression of the Emotions in Man and
Animals._ London and New York, 1873.
(6) Rudolph, Heinrich. _Der Ausdruck der Gemütsbewegungen des Menschen
dargestellt und erklärt auf Grund der Urformen-und der Gesetze des
Ausdrucks und der Erregungen._ Dresden, 1903.
(7) Piderit, T. _Mimik und Physiognomik._ Rev. ed. Detmold, 1886.
(8) Cannon, Walter B. _Bodily Changes in Pain, Hunger, Fear, and Rage._
An account of recent researches into the function of emotional
excitement. New York and London, 1915.
(9) Hirn, Yrjö. _The Origins of Art._ A psychological and sociological,
inquiry. London and New York, 1900.
(10) Bergson, H. _Le Rire._ Essai sur la signification du comique.
Paris, 1900.
(11) Sully, James. _An Essay on Laughter._ Its forms, its causes, its
development, and its value. London and New York, 1902.
(12) Dugas, L. _Psychologie du rire._ Paris, 1902.
(13) Groos, Karl. _The Play of Man._ Translated from the German by
Elizabeth L. Baldwin. New York, 1901.
(14) ----. _The Play of Animals._ Translated from the German by
Elizabeth L. Baldwin. New York, 1898.
(15) Royce, J. _The Spirit of Modern Philosophy._ An essay in the form
of lectures. Chap. xii, "Physical Law and Freedom: The World of
Description and the World of Appreciation." Boston, 1892.
(16) Bücher, Karl. _Arbeit und Rhythmus._ Leipzig, 1902.
(17) Mallery, Garrick. "Sign Language among North American Indians
compared with That among Other Peoples and Deaf Mutes." _United States
Bureau of American Ethnology. First Annual Report._ Washington, 1881.
B. _Language and the Printing Press_
(1) Schmoller, Gustav. _Grundriss der allgemeinen
Volkswirtschaftslehre._ Chap, ii, 2, "Die psychophysischen Mittel
menschlicher Verständigung: Sprache und Schrift." Leipzig, 1900.
(2) Lazarus, Moritz. "Das Leben der Seele," _Geist und Sprache_, Vol.
II. Berlin, 1878.
(3) Wundt, Wilhelm. "Völkerpsychologie." Eine Untersuchung der
Entwicklungsgesetze von Sprache, Mythus, und Sitte. _Die Sprache_, Vol.
I. Part i. Leipzig, 1900.
(4) Wuttke, Heinrich. _Die deutschen Zeitschriften und die Entstehung
der öffentlichen Meinung._ Ein Beitrag zur Geschichte des
Zeitungswesens. Leipzig, 1875.
(5) Mason, William A. _A History of the Art of Writing._ New York, 1920.
(6) Bücher, Carl. _Industrial Evolution._ Translated from the German by
S. M. Wickett. Chap. vi, "The Genesis of Journalism." New York, 1901.
(7) Dibblee, G. Binney. _The Newspaper._ New York and London, 1913.
(8) Payne, George Henry. _History of Journalism in the United States._
New York and London, 1920.
(9) Kawabé, Kisaburo. _The Press and Politics in Japan._ A study of
the relation between the newspaper and the political development of
modern Japan. Chicago, 1921.
(10) Münsterberg, Hugo. _The Photoplay._ A psychological study. New
York, 1916.
(11) Kingsbury, J. E. _The Telephone and Telephone Exchanges._ Their
invention and development. London and New York, 1915.
(12) Borght, R. van der. _Das Verkehrswesen._ Leipzig, 1894.
(13) Mason, O. T. _Primitive Travel and Transportation._ New York, 1897.
C. _Slang, Argot, and Universes of Discourse_
(1) Farmer, John S. _Slang and Its Analogues Past and Present._ A
dictionary, historical and comparative, of the heterodox speech of all
classes of society for more than three hundred years. With synonyms in
English, French, German, Italian, etc. London, 1890-1904.
(2) Sechrist, Frank K. _The Psychology of Unconventional Language._
Worcester, Mass., 1913.
(3) Ware, J. Redding. _Passing English of the Victorian Era._ A
dictionary of heterodox English, slang and phrase. New York, 1909.
(4) Hotten, John C. _A Dictionary of Modern Slang, Cant, and Vulgar
Words._ Used at the present day in the streets of London; the
universities of Oxford and Cambridge; the houses of Parliament; the dens
of St. Giles; and the palaces of St. James. Preceded by a history of
cant and vulgar language; with glossaries of two secret languages,
spoken by the wandering tribes of London, the costermongers, and the
patterers. London, 1859.
(5) ----. _The Slang Dictionary._ Etymological, historical, and
anecdotal. New York, 1898.
(6) Farmer, John S. _The Public School Word-Book._ A contribution to a
historical glossary of words, phrases, and turns of expression, obsolete
and in present use, peculiar to our great public schools, together with
some that have been or are modish at the universities. London, 1900.
(7) _A New Dictionary of the Terms Ancient and Modern of the Canting
Crew._ In its several tribes of gypsies, beggars, thieves, cheats, etc.,
with an addition of some proverbs, phrases, and figurative speeches,
etc. London, 1690. Reprinted, 19--.
(8) Kluge, F. _Rotwelsch._ Quellen und Wortschatz der Gaunersprache und
der verwandten Geheimsprachen. Strassburg, 1901.
(9) Barrère, Albert, and Leland, C. G., editors. _A Dictionary of Slang,
Jargon, and Cant._ Embracing English, American, and Anglo-Indian slang,
pidgin English, gypsies' jargon, and other irregular phraseology. 2
vols. London, 1897.
(10) Villatte, Césaire. _Parisismen._ Alphabetisch geordnete Sammlung
der eigenartigen Ausdrucksweisen des Pariser Argot. Ein Supplement zu
allen französisch-deutschen Wörterbüchern. Berlin, 1899.
(11) Delesalle, Georges. _Dictionnaire argot-français et
français-argot._ Nouvelle Edition. Paris, 1899.
(12) Villon, François. _Le jargon et jobelin de François Villon, suivi
du jargon an théatre._ Paris, 1888.
(13) Saineanu, Lazar. _L'Argot ancien_ (1455-1850). Ses éléments
constitutifs, ses rapports avec les langues secrètes de l'Europe
méridionale et l'argot moderne, avec un appendice sur l'argot juge par
Victor Hugo et Balzac; par Lazare Sainéan, pseud. Paris, 1907.
(14) Dauzat, Albert. _Les argots des métiers franco-provençaux._ Paris,
1917.
(15) Leland, Charles G. _The English Gypsies and Their Languages._ 4th
ed. New York, 1893.
(16) _Dictionnaire des termes militaires et de l'argot poilu._ Paris,
1916.
(17) Empey, Arthur Guy. _Over the Top._ By an American soldier who went,
Arthur Guy Empey, machine gunner, serving in France; together with
Tommy's dictionary of the trenches. New York and London, 1917.
(18) Smith, L. N. _Lingo of No Man's Land; or, War Time Lexicon._
Compiled by Sergt. Lorenzo N. Smith. Chicago, 1918.
(19) Saineanu, Lazar. _L'Argot des tranchées._ D'après les lettres
des poilus et les journaux du front. Paris, 1915.
(20) Horn, Paul. _Die deutsche Soldatensprache._ Giessen, 1905.
IV. IMITATION AND SUGGESTION
A. _Imitation_
(1) Bagehot, Walter. _Physics and Politics; or, Thoughts on the
Application of the Principles of "Natural Selection" and "Inheritance"
to Political Society._ New York, 1873.
(2) Tarde, Gabriel. _The Laws of Imitation._ Translated from the 2d.
French ed. by Elsie Clews Parsons. New York, 1903.
(3) Baldwin, James M. _Mental Development in the Child and the Race._
Methods and processes. 3d. rev. ed. New York, 1906.
(4) ----. _Social and Ethical Interpretations in Mental Development._ A
study in social psychology. 4th ed. New York, 1906.
(5) Royce, Josiah. _Outlines of Psychology._ An elementary treatise with
some practical applications. New York, 1903.
(6) Henderson, Ernest N. _A Text-Book in the Principles of Education._
Chap. xi, "Imitation." New York, 1910.
(7) Thorndike, E. L. _Educational Psychology._ Vol. I., The Original
Nature of Man. Chap. viii, pp. 108-22. New York, 1913.
(8) Hughes, Henry. _Die Mimik des Menschen auf Grund voluntarischer
Psychologie._ Frankfurt a. M., 1900.
(9) Park, Robert E. _Masse und Publikum._ Eine methodologische und
soziologische Untersuchung. Chap. ii, "Der soziologische Prozess,"
describes the historical development of the conception of imitation in
its relation to sympathy and mimicry in the writings of Hume, Butler,
and Dugald Stewart. Bern, 1904.
(10) Smith, Adam. _The Theory of Moral Sentiments._ To which is added a
dissertation on the origin of languages. London, 1892.
(11) Ribot, T. _The Psychology of the Emotions._ Part II, chap. iv,
"Sympathy and the Tender Emotions," pp. 230-38. Translated from the
French, 2d ed. London, 1911.
(12) Dewey, John. "Imitation in Education," _Cyclopedia of Education_,
III, 389-90.
(13) Him, Yrjö. _The Origins of Art._ A psychological and sociological
inquiry. Chap. vi, "Social Expression." London and New York, 1900.
B. _Suggestion_
(1) Moll, Albert. _Hypnotism._ Including a study of the chief points of
psychotherapeutics and occultism. Translated from the 4th enl. ed. by A.
F. Hopkirk. London and New York, 1909.
(2) Binet, A., and Féré, Ch. _Animal Magnetism._ New York, 1892.
(3) Janet, Pierre. _L'Automisme psychologique._ Essai de psychologie
expérimental sur les formes inférieures de l'activité humaine. Paris,
1889.
(4) Bernheim, H. _Hypnotisme, Suggestion, Psychothérapie._ Paris, 1891.
(5) Richet, Ch. _Experimentelle Studien auf dem Gebiete der
Gedankenübertragung und des sogenannten Hellsehens._ Deutsch von Frhrn.
von Schrenck-Notzing. Stuttgart, 1891.
(6) Pfungst, Oskar. _Clever Hans (The Horse of Mr. von Osten)._ A
contribution to experimental animal and human psychology. New York,
1911. [Bibliography.]
(7) Hansen, F. C. C., and Lehmann, A. _Über unwillkürliches Flüstern._
Philosophische Studien, Leipzig, XI (1895), 471-530.
(8) Féré, Ch. _Sensation et mouvement._ Chap, xix, pp. 120-24. Paris,
1887.
(9) Sidis, Boris. _The Psychology of Suggestion._ A research into the
subconscious nature of man and society. New York, 1898.
(10) Bechterew, W. v. _Die Bedeutung der Suggestion im Sozialen Leben._
Grenzfragen des Nerven- und Seelenlebens. Wiesbaden, 1905.
(11) Stoll, Otto. _Suggestion und Hypnotismus in der Völkerpsychologie._
Leipzig, 1904.
(12) Binet, Alfred. _La Suggestibilité._ Paris, 1900.
(13) Münsterberg, Hugo. _Psychotherapy._ Chap. v, "Suggestion and
Hypnotism," pp. 85-124. New York, 1909.
(14) Cooley, Charles. _Human Nature and the Social Order._ Chap. ii. New
York, 1902.
(15) Gulick, Sidney. _The American Japanese Problem._ A study of the
racial relations of the East and the West. Pp. 118-68. New York, 1914.
(16) Fishberg, Maurice. _The Jews._ A study of race and environment.
London and New York, 1911.
TOPICS FOR WRITTEN THEMES
1. A History of the Concept of Social Interaction.
2. Interaction and the Atomic Theory.
3. Interaction and Social Consciousness.
4. Interaction and Self-Consciousness.
5. Religion and Social Consciousness.
6. Publicity and Social Consciousness.
7. Interaction and the Limits of the Group.
8. The Senses and Communication: a Comparative Study of the Rôle of
Touch, Smell, Sight, and Hearing in Social Intercourse.
9. Facial Expression as a Form of Communication.
10. Laughter and Blushing and Self-Consciousness.
11. The Sociology of Gesture.
12. The Subtler Forms of Interaction; "Mind-Reading," "Thought
Transference."
13. Rapport, A Study of Mutual Influence in Intimate Associations.
14. A History of Imitation as a Sociological Theory.
15. Suggestion as an Explanation of Collective Behavior.
16. Adam Smith's Theory of the Relation of Sympathy and Moral Judgment.
17. Interest, Attention, and Imitation.
18. Imitation and Appreciation.
19. The History of Printing and of the Press.
20. Modem Extensions of Communication: the Telephone, the Telegraph,
Radio, the Motion Picture, Popular Music.
21. An Explanation of Secondary Society in Terms of Secondary Devices of
Communication.
22. Graham Wallas' Conception of the Problem of Social Heritages in
Secondary Society.
QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION
1. What do you understand Gumplowicz to mean by a "natural process"?
2. Do you think that the idea of a "natural process" is applicable to
society?
3. Is Gumplowicz' principle of the interaction of social elements
valid?
4. What do you understand Simmel to mean by society? by socialization?
5. Do you agree with Simmel when he says, "In and of themselves, these
materials with which life is filled, these motivations which impel it,
are not social in their nature"?
6. In what ways, according to Simmel, does interaction maintain the
mechanism of the group in time?
7. What do you understand to be the distinction which Simmel makes
between attitudes of appreciation and comprehension?
8. "The interaction of individuals based upon mutual glances is perhaps
the most direct and purest reciprocity which exists." Explain.
9. Explain the sociology of the act of looking down to avoid the glance
of the other.
10. In what way does Simmel's distinction between the reactions to other
persons of the blind and the deaf-mute afford an explanation of the
difference between the social life of the village and of the large city?
11. In what sense are emotions expressive? To whom are they expressive?
12. What is the relation of emotional expression to communication?
13. Why would you say Darwin states that "blushing is the most peculiar
and the most human of all expressions"?
14. Does a person ever blush in isolation?
15. What in your opinion is the bearing of the phenomenon of blushing
upon interaction and communication?
16. What is the difference between the function of blushing and of
laughing in social life?
17. In what sense is sympathy the "law of laughter"?
18. What determines the object of laughter?
19. What is the sociological explanation of the rôle of laughter and
ridicule in social control?
20. What are the likenesses and differences between intercommunication
among animals and language among men?
21. What is the criterion of the difference between man and the animal,
according to Max Müller?
22. In your opinion, was the situation in which language arose one of
unanimity or diversity of attitude?
23. "Language and ideational processes developed together and are
necessary to each other." Explain.
24. What is the relation of the evolution of writing as a form of
communication (a) to the development of ideas, and (b) to social
life?
25. What difference in function, if any, is there between communication
carried on (a) merely through expressive signs, (b) language, (c)
writing, (d) printing?
26. How does the evolution of publicity exhibit the extension of
communication by human invention?
27. In what ways is the extension of communication related to primary
and secondary contacts?
28. Does the growth of communication make for or against the development
of individuality?
29. How do you define imitation?
30. What is the relation of attention and interest to the mechanism of
imitation?
31. What is the relation of imitation to learning?
32. What is the relation of imitation to the three phases of sympathy
differentiated by Ribot?
33. What do you understand by Smith's definition of sympathy? How does
it differ from that of Ribot?
34. Under what conditions is the sentiment aroused in the observer
likely to resemble that of the observed? When is it likely to be
different?
35. In what sense is sympathy the basis for passing a moral judgment
upon a person or an act?
36. What do you understand by "internal imitation"?
37. What is the significance of imitation for artistic appreciation?
38. What do you understand by the term "appreciation"? Distinguish
between "appreciation" and "comprehension." (Compare Hirn's distinction
with that made by Simmel.)
39. Upon what is the nature of suggestion based? How do you define
suggestion?
40. What do you understand by Bechterew's distinction between active
perception and passive perception?
41. Why can we speak of suggestion as a mental automatism?
42. How real is the analogy of suggestion to an infection or an
inoculation?
43. What do you understand by the distinction between personal
consciousness and general consciousness?
44. What is the significance of attention in determining the character
of suggestion?
45. What is the relation of rapport to suggestion?
46. How would you distinguish suggestion from other forms of stimulus
and response?
47. Is suggestion a term of individual or of social psychology?
48. What is the significance of the case of Clever Hans for the
interpretation of so-called telepathy? of muscle reading?
49. How extensive, would you say, are the subtler forms of suggestion in
normal life? What illustrations would you give?
50. What is the rôle of social contagion in mass action?
51. What do you understand Bechterew to mean by "the psychological
processes of fusion"? "spiritual cohesion," etc.?
52. What does it mean to say that historical personages "embody in
themselves the emotions and the desires of the masses"?
53. What, in your judgment, are the differentiating criteria of
suggestion and imitation?
54. What do you understand is meant by speaking of imitation and
suggestion as mechanisms of interaction?
FOOTNOTES:
[135] Pp. 70 and 72.