The crowd-mind is everywhere idealistic, and absolutist. Its truths are

"given," made-in-advance. Though unconsciously its systems of logic are

created to enhance the self-feeling, they appear to consciousness as

highly impersonal and abstract. As in the intellectualist philosophies,

forms of thought are regarded as themselves objects of thought. Systems

of general ideas are imposed upon the minds of men apparently from

without. Universal acceptance is demanded. Thought becomes stereotyped.

What ought to be is confused with what is, the ideal becomes more real

than fact.

In the essays on "Pragmatism" William James showed that the rationalist

system, even that of the great philosopher, is in large measure

determined by the thinker's peculiar "temperament." Elsewhere he speaks

of the "Sentiment of Rationality." For a discussion of the various types

of philosophical rationalism, the reader is referred to the criticisms

by William James, F. C. S. Schiller, Dewey, and other Pragmatists. It is

sufficient for our purpose to note the fact that the rationalist type of

mind everywhere shows a tendency to assert the unreality of the world of

everyday experience, and to seek comfort and security in the

contemplation of a logically ordered system or world of "pure reason."

Ideals, not concrete things, are the true realities. The world with

which we are always wrestling is but a distorted manifestation, a

jumbled, stereotyped copy of what James ironically referred to as "the

de luxe edition which exists in the Absolute." The parable of the cave

which Plato gives in the _Republic_ represents ordinary knowledge as a

delusion, and the empirically known world as but dancing shadows on the

wall of our subterranean prison.

R. W. Livingstone, who sees in Platonism, from the very beginning, a

certain world-weariness and turning away of the Greek spirit from the

healthy realism which had formerly characterized it, says:

For if Greece showed men how to trust their own nature and lead

a simply human life, how to look straight in the face of the

world and read the beauty that met them on the surface, certain

Greek writers preached a different lesson from this. In

opposition to directness they taught us to look past the

"unimaginary and actual" qualities of things to secondary

meanings and inner symbolism. In opposition to liberty and

humanism they taught us to mistrust our nature, to see in it

weakness, helplessness, and incurable taint, to pass beyond

humanity to communion with God, to live less for this world than

for one to come.... Perhaps to some people it may seem

surprising that this writer is Plato.

According to this view reality may be found only by means of "pure

knowledge," and, to give a familiar quotation from the Phædo:

If we would have pure knowledge of anything we must be quit of

the body; the soul in herself must behold things in themselves;

and then we shall attain the wisdom which we desire and of which

we say that we are lovers; not while we live, but after death;

for if, while in company with the body, the soul cannot have

pure knowledge, one of two things follows--either knowledge is

not to be obtained at all, or if at all after death.

Intellectualism may not always be so clearly other-worldly as Plato

shows himself to be in this passage. But it commonly argues that behind

the visible world of "illusory sense experience" lies the true ground

and cause--an unseen order in which the contradictions of experience are

either unknown or harmonized, an external and unchangeable "Substance,"

a self-contained Absolute to which our ephemeral personalities with

their imperfections and problems are unknown. A "thing in itself," or

principle of Being which transcends our experience.

This type of thinking, whether it be known as Idealism, Rationalism,

Intellectualism, or Absolutism, finds little sympathy from those who

approach the study of philosophy from the standpoint of psychology. The

following passages taken from _Studies in Humanism_ by Schiller, show

that even without the technique of the analytical method, it was not

hard to detect some of the motives which prompted the construction of

systems of this sort. The partisanism of one of these motives is rather

suggestive for our study of the mind of the crowd. Says our author:

Logical defects rarely kill beliefs to which men, for

psychological reasons, remain attached.... This may suggest to

us that we may have perhaps unwittingly misunderstood

Absolutism, and done it a grave injustice.... What if its real

appeal was not logical but psychological?...

The history of English Absolutism distinctly bears out these

anticipations. It was originally a deliberate importation from

Germany, with a purpose. And this purpose was a religious

one--that of counteracting the antireligious developments of

Science. The indigenous philosophy, the old British empiricism,

was useless for this purpose. For though a form of

intellectualism, its sensationalism was in no wise hostile to

Science. On the contrary, it showed every desire to ally itself

with, and to promote, the great scientific movement of the

nineteenth century, which penetrated into and almost overwhelmed

Oxford between 1859 and 1870.

But this movement excited natural and not unwarranted alarm in

that great center of theology. For Science, flushed with its

hard-won liberty, ignorant of philosophy, and as yet unconscious

of its proper limitations, was decidedly aggressive and

overconfident. It seemed naturalistic, nay, materialistic, by

the law of its being. The logic of Mill, the philosophy of

Evolution, the faith in democracy, in freedom, in progress (on

material lines), threatened to carry all before them.

What was to be done? Nothing directly; for on its own ground

Science seemed invulnerable, and had the knack of crushing the

subtlest dialectics by the knockdown force of sheer scientific

fact. But might it not be possible to change the venue, to

shift the battleground to a region _ubi instabilis terra unda_

(where the land afforded no firm footing), where the frozen sea

could not be navigated, where the very air was thick with mists

so that phantoms might well pass for realities--the realm, in

short, of metaphysics?...

So it was rarely necessary to do more than recite the august

table of _a priori_ categories in order to make the most

audacious scientist feel that he had got out of his depth; while

at the merest mention of the Hegelian dialectic all the

"advanced thinkers" of the time would flee affrighted.

Schiller's sense of humor doubtless leads him to exaggerate somewhat the

deliberateness of this importation of German metaphysics. That these

borrowed transcendental and dialectical systems served their purpose in

the warfare of traditional theologies against Science is but half the

truth. The other half is that these logical formulas provided certain

intelligent believers with a defense, or safe refuge, in their own inner

conflicts.

That this is the case, Schiller evidently has little doubt. After

discussing Absolutism itself as a sort of religion, and showing that its

"catch-words" taken at their face value are not only emotionally barren,

but also logically meaningless because "inapplicable to our actual

experience," he then proceeds to an examination of the unconscious

motives which determine this sort of thinking. His description of these

motives, so far as it goes, is an excellent little bit of analytical

psychology. He says:

How then can Absolutism possibly be a religion? It must appeal

to psychological motives of a different sort, rare enough to

account for its total divergence from the ordinary religious

feelings and compelling enough to account for the fanaticism

with which it is held and the persistence with which the same

old round of negations has been reiterated through the ages. Of

such psychological motives we shall indicate the more important

and reputable.

(1) It is decidedly flattering to one's spiritual pride to feel

oneself a "part" or "manifestation" or "vehicle" or

"reproduction" of the Absolute Mind, and to some this feeling

affords so much strength and comfort and such exquisite delight

that they refrain from inquiring what these phrases mean.... It

is, moreover, the strength of this feeling which explains the

blindness of Absolutists toward the logical defects of their own

theory....

(2) There is a strange delight in wide generalization merely as

such, which, when pursued without reference to the ends which it

subserves, and without regard to its actual functioning, often

results in a sort of logical vertigo. This probably has much to

do with the peculiar "craving for unity" which is held to be the

distinctive affliction of philosophers. At any rate, the thought

of an all-embracing One or Whole seems to be regarded as

valuable and elevating quite apart from any definite function it

performs in knowing, or light it throws on any actual problem.

(3) The thought of an Absolute Unity is cherished as a guarantee

of cosmic stability. In face of the restless vicissitudes of

phenomena it seems to secure us against falling out of the

Universe. It assures us _a_ _priori_--and that is its supreme

value--that the cosmic order cannot fall to pieces and leave us

dazed and confounded among the debris.... We want to have an

absolute assurance _a priori_ concerning the future, and the

thought of the absolute seems designed to give it. It is

probably this last notion that, consciously or unconsciously,

weighs most in the psychology of the Absolutists' creed.

In this connection the reader will recall the passage quoted from

Adler's _The Neurotic Constitution_, in which it was shown that the

fictitious "guiding-lines" or rational systems of both the neurotic and

normal are motivated by this craving for security. But it makes all the

difference in the world whether the system of ideas is used, as in

science and common sense, to solve real problems in an objective world,

or is created to be an artificial and imaginary defense of the ego

against a subjective feeling of insecurity; whether, in a word, the

craving for security moves one to do something calculated to render the

forces with which he must deal concretely more congenial and hospitable

to his will, or makes him content to withdraw and file a demur to the

challenge of the environment in the form of theoretical denial of the

reality of the situation.

There is no denying the fact that Absolute Idealism, if not taken too

seriously, may have the function for some people of steadying their

nerves in the battle of life. And though, as I believe, logically

untenable, it not infrequently serves as a rationalization of

faith-values which work out beneficially, and, quite apart from their

metaphysical trappings, may be even indispensable. Yet when carried to

its logical conclusions such thinking inevitably distorts the meaning of

personal living, robs our world and our acts of their feeling of

reality, serves as an instrument for "regression" or withdrawal of

interest from the real tasks and objects of living men and women, and in

fact functions for much the same purpose, if not precisely in the same

way, as do the ideal systems of the psychopath.

In justice to idealism it should be added that this is by no means the

only species of Rationalism which may lead to such psychic results.

There are various paths by which the craving for artificial security may

lead to such attempts to reduce the whole of possible experience to

logical unity that the realities of time and change and of individual

experience are denied. How many deterministic theories, with all their

scientific jargon, are really motivated by an inability to accept a

world with an element of chance in it. There is a sense in which all

science by subsuming like individuals in a common class, and thus

ignoring their individuality, in so far as they are alike in certain

respects, gains added power over all of them. There is a sense, too, in

which science, by discovering that whenever a given combination of

elements occurs, a definitely foreseen result will follow, is justified

in ignoring time and treating certain futures as if they were already

tucked up the sleeves of the present. It should be remembered that this

sort of determinism is purely methodological, and is, like all thinking,

done for a purpose--that of effecting desirable ends in a world made up

of concrete situations.

When this purpose becomes supplanted by a passion to discount all future

change in general--when one imagines that he has a formula which enables

him to write the equation of the curve of the universe, science has

degenerated into scientificism, or head-in-the-sand philosophy. The

magic formula has precisely the same psychic value as the "absolute." I

know a number of economic determinists, for instance, who just cannot

get out of their heads the notion that social evolution is a process

absolutely underwritten, guaranteed, and predictable, without the least

possible doubt. In such a philosophy of history as this the individual

is of course a mere "product of his environment," and his role as a

creator of value is nil. On this "materialistic" theory, the individual

is as truly a mere manifestation of impersonal evolutionary forces as he

is, according to orthodox Platonism, a mere manifestation of the

abstract idea of his species. Notwithstanding the professed

impersonalism of this view, its value for consolation in minimizing the

causes of the spiritual difference in men--that is, its function for

enhancing the self-feeling of some people, is obvious. That such an idea

should become a crowd-idea is not to be wondered at. And this leads me

to my point. _It is no mere accident that the crowd takes to

rationalistic philosophies like a duck to water._

The crowd-man, however unsophisticated he may be, is a Platonist at

heart. He may never have heard the word epistemology, but his theory of

knowledge is essentially the same as Plato's. Religious crowds are, to

one familiar with the Dialogues, astonishingly Platonic. There is the

same habit of giving ontological rather than functional value to general

ideas, the same other-worldliness, the same moral dilemmas, the same

contempt for the material, for the human body, for selfhood; the same

assertion of finality, and the conformist spirit.

Reformist crowds differ only superficially from religious crowds.

Patriotic crowds make use of a different terminology, but their mental

habits are the same. It has become a cult among crowds with tendencies

toward social revolution to paint their faces with the colors of a

borrowed nineteenth-century materialism. But all this is mere swagger

and "frightfulness," an attempt to make themselves look terrible and

frighten the bourgeois. I am sure that no one who has seen all this

radical rigmarole, as I have had occasion to see it, can be deceived by

it. These dreadful materialist doctrines of the radical crowd are wooden

guns, no thicker than the soap-box. As a matter of fact, the radical

crowds are extremely idealistic. With all their talk of proletarian

opposition to intellectualism, Socialists never become a crowd without

becoming as intellectualist as Fichte or Hegel. There is a sense in

which Marx himself never succeeded in escaping Hegel's dilemmas, he only

followed the fashion in those days of turning them upside down.

With radical crowds as with conservative, there is the same substitution

of a closed system of ideas for the shifting phenomena of our empirical

world; the same worship of abstract forms of thought, the same

uncompromising spirit and insistence upon general uniformity of

opinions; the same orthodoxy. All orthodoxy is nothing other than the

will of the crowd to keep itself together. With all kinds of crowds,

also, there is the same diverting of attention from the personal and the

concrete to the impersonal and the general; the same flight from reality

to the transcendental for escape, for consolation, for defense, for

vindication; the same fiction that existence is at bottom a sort of

logical proposition, a magic formula or principle of Being to be

correctly copied and learned by rote; the same attempt to create the

world or find reality by thinking rather than by acting.

The intellectualist bias of the average man is doubtless due in great

part to the fact that theology, and therefore the religious education of

the young, both Christian and Jewish, has throughout the history of

these religions been saturated with Platonism. But then, the universal

sway of this philosopher may be explained by the fact that there is

something in his abstractionism which is congenial to the creed-making

propensities of the crowd-mind. The great _a priori_ thinkers, Plato,

St. Augustine, Thomas Aquinas, Anselm, Rousseau, Kant, Hegel, Green,

etc., have often been called solitary men, but it is significant that

their doctrines survive in popularized form in the creeds and

shibboleths of permanent crowds of all descriptions. While humanists,

nominalists, empiricists, realists, pragmatists, men like Protagoras,

Epicurus, Abelard, Bacon, Locke, Hume, Schopenhauer, Nietzsche, Bergson,

James, have always had a hard time of it. They are considered

destructive, for the reason that the tendency of their teaching is to

disintegrate the crowd-mind and call one back to himself. Their names

are seldom mentioned in popular assemblies except to discredit them.

Yet it is on the whole these latter thinkers who orient us in our real

world, make us courageously face the facts with which we have to deal,

stimulate our wills, force us to use our ideas for what they

are--instruments for better living,--inspire us to finer and more

correct valuations of things, and point out the way to freedom for those

who dare walk in it.

All this, however, is the very thing that the crowd-mind is running

headlong away from. As a crowd we do not wish to think empirically. Why

should we seek piecemeal goods by tedious and dangerous effort, when we

have only to do a little trick of attention, and behold The Good,

abstract, perfect, universal, waiting just around the corner in the

realm of pure reason, ready to swallow up and demolish all evil? Are we

not even now in possession of Love, Justice, Beauty, and Truth by the

sheer magic of thinking of them in the abstract, calling them

"principles" and writing the words with the initial letters in capitals?

The very mental processes by which a group of people becomes a crowd

change such abstract nouns from mere class names into copies of

supermundane realities.

In wholesome thinking principles are of course necessary. They are what

I might call "leading ideas." Their function is to lead to more

satisfactory thinking--that is, to other ideas which are desired. Or

they are useful in leading us to actions the results of which are

intended and wished for. They may also be principles of valuation

guiding us in the choice of ends. If there were no substantial agreement

among us concerning certain principles we could not relate our conduct

to one another at all; social life would be impossible. But necessary as

such leading ideas are, they are means rather than ends. Circumstances

may demand that we alter them or make exceptions to their application.

To the crowd-mind a principle appears as an end in itself. It must be

vindicated at all costs. To offend against it in one point is to be

guilty of breaking the whole law. Crowds are always uncompromising about

their principles. They must apply to all alike. Crowds are no respecters

of persons.

As crowd-men we never appear without some set of principles or some

cause over our heads. Crowds crawl under their principles like worms

under stones. They cover up the wrigglings of the unconscious, and

protect it from attack. Every crowd uses its principles as universal

demands. In this way it gets unction upon other crowds, puts them in the

wrong, makes them give assent to the crowd's real purpose by challenging

them to deny the righteousness of the professed justifications of that

purpose. It is said that the Sioux Indians, some years ago, used to put

their women and children in front of their firing line. The braves could

then crouch behind these innocent ones and shoot at white men, knowing

that it would be a violation of the principles of humanity for the white

soldiers to shoot back and risk killing women and children. Crowds

frequently make just such use of their principles. About each crowd,

like the circle of fire which the gods placed about the sleeping

Brunhilde, there is a flaming hedge of logical abstractions, sanctions,

taboos, which none but the intellectually courageous few dare cross. In

this way the slumbering critical faculties of the crowd-mind are

protected against the intrusion of realities from outside the cult. The

intellectual curiosity of the members of the group is kept within proper

bounds. Hostile persons or groups dare not resist us, for in so doing

they make themselves enemies of Truth, of Morality, of Liberty, etc.

Both political parties, by a common impulse, "drape themselves in the

Flag." It is an interesting fact that the most antagonistic crowds

profess much the same set of principles. The "secondary rationalization"

of crowds, both Northern and Southern, at the time of the Civil War,

made use of our traditional principles of American Liberty, and

Christian Morality. We have seen both pacifist and militarist crowds

setting forth their manifestoes in terms of New Testament teaching. Each

religious sect exists only to teach "the one system of doctrine

logically deduced from Scripture."

As an illustration of this sort of reasoning, I give here a few passages

from a propagandist publication in which the crowd-will to dominate

takes the typical American method of striving to force its cult ideas

upon the community as a whole by means of restrictive moralist

legislation--in this case attempt is made to prohibit the exhibition of

motion pictures on Sunday. That the demand for such legislation is for

the most part a pure class-crowd phenomenon, designed to enhance the

self-feeling and economic interests of the "reformers," by keeping the

poor from having a good time, is I think, rather obvious. The reasoning

here is interesting, as the real motive is so thinly disguised by

pietistic platitudes that the two follow each other in alternate

succession:

(1) Sunday Movies are not needed. The people have six days and

six nights each week on which to attend the movies. Is not that

plenty of time for all?

(2) Sunday Movie Theaters commercialize the Christian Sabbath.

While "the Sabbath was made for man," _yet it is God's day_. We

have no right to sell it for business purposes. It is a day for

rest and worship, not a day for greed and gain. Sunday would,

of course, be the best day in the week financially for the

movies. It would also be the best day in the week for the open

saloons and horse-racing, but that is no reason why these should

be allowed on Sunday. _The Sabbath must not be commercialized._

(3) _Sunday Movie Theaters destroy the rest and quiet of many

people, especially those who live in the residential district_

of cities and in the neighborhood where such motion-picture

theaters are located. Great crowds pour along the streets near

such theaters, often breaking the Sunday quiet of that part of

the city by loud and boisterous talk.

Thousands of people every year are moving away from the downtown

noisy districts of the cities out into the quiet residential

districts in order to have quiet Sundays. But when a

motion-picture theater comes and locates next to their homes, or

in their block, as has been done in many cases, and great noisy,

boisterous crowds surge back and forth before their homes all

Sunday afternoon and evening, going to the movies, they are

being robbed of _that for which they paid their money when they

bought a home in that quiet part of the city_....

The Behavior of Crowds: A Psychological Study · 第 8 / 18 段