We have seen that mental instability must be regarded as a condition

extremely common, and produced by the mental conflict forced upon

man by his sensitiveness to herd suggestion on the one hand and to

experience on the other. It remains for us to estimate in some rough

way the characteristics of the unstable, in order that we may be able

to judge of their value or otherwise to the State and the species.

Such an estimate must necessarily be exaggerated, over-sharp in its

outlines, omitting {59} much, and therefore in many respects false.

The most prominent characteristic in which the mentally unstable

contrast with the “normal” is what we may vaguely call motive. They

tend to be weak in energy, and especially in persistence of energy.

Such weakness may translate itself into a vague scepticism as to

the value of things in general, or into a definite defect of what

is popularly called will power, or into many other forms, but it is

always of the same fundamental significance, for it is always the

result of the thwarting of the primary impulses to action resident

in herd suggestion by the influence of an experience which cannot

be disregarded. Such minds cannot be stimulated for long by objects

adequate to normal ambition; they are apt to be sceptical in such

matters as patriotism, religion, politics, social success, but the

scepticism is incomplete, so that they are readily won to new causes,

new religions, new quacks, and as readily fall away therefrom.

We saw that the resistive gain in motive what they lose in

adaptability; we may add that in a sense the unstable gain in

adaptability what they lose in motive. Thus we see society cleft by

the instinctive qualities of its members into two great classes, each

to a great extent possessing what the other lacks, and each falling

below the possibilities of human personality. The effect of the

gradual increase of the unstable in society can be seen to a certain

extent in history. We can watch it through the careers of the Jews and

of the Romans. At first, when the bulk of the citizens were of the

stable type, the nation was enterprising, energetic, indomitable, but

hard, inelastic, and fanatically convinced of its Divine mission. The

inevitable effect of the expansion of experience which followed success

was that development of the unstable and sceptical which ultimately

allowed the nation, no longer {60} believing in itself or its gods, to

become the almost passive prey of more stable peoples.

In regard to the question of the fundamental significance of the two

great mental types found in society, a tempting field for speculation

at once opens up, and many questions immediately arise for discussion.

Is, for example, the stable normal type naturally in some special

degree insensitive to experience, and if so, is such a quality inborn

or acquired? Again, may the characteristics of the members of this

class be the result of an experience relatively easily dealt with by

rationalization and exclusion? Then again, are the unstable naturally

hypersensitive to experience, or have they met with an experience

relatively difficult to assimilate? Into the discussion of such

questions we shall here make no attempt to enter, but shall limit

ourselves to reiterating that these two types divide society between

them, that they both must be regarded as seriously defective and as

evidence that civilization has not yet provided a medium in which the

average human mind can grow undeformed and to its full stature.

GREGARIOUSNESS AND THE FUTURE OF MAN.

Thus far we have attempted to apply biological conceptions to man and

society as they actually exist at present. We may now, very shortly,

inquire whether or not the same method can yield some hint as to the

course which human development will take in the future.

As we have already seen reason to believe, in the course of organic

development when the limits of size and efficiency in the unicellular

organism were reached, the only possible access of advantage to the

competing organism was gained by the appearance of combination. In

the scale of the metazoa {61} we see the advantages of combination

and division of labour being more and more made use of, until the

individual cells lose completely the power of separate existence,

and their functions come to be useful only in the most indirect

way and through the organisms of which the cells are constituents.

This complete submergence of the cell in the organism indicates

the attainment of the maximum advantages to be obtained from this

particular access in complexity, and it indicates to us the direction

in which development must proceed within the limits which are produced

by that other access of complexity—gregariousness.

The success and extent of such development clearly depend on the

relation of two series of activities in the individual which may in

the most general way be described as the capacity for varied reaction

and the capacity for communication. The process going on in the

satisfactorily developing gregarious animal is the moulding of the

varied reactions of the individual into functions beneficial to him

only indirectly through the welfare of the new unit—the herd. This

moulding process is a consequence of the power of intercommunication

amongst the individual constituents of the new unit. Intercommunication

is thus seen to be of cardinal importance to the gregarious, just as

was the nervous system to the multicellular.

Moreover, in a given gregarious species the existence of a highly

developed power of reaction in the individual with a proportionately

less developed capacity for communication will mean that the species

is not deriving the advantages it might from the possession of

gregariousness, while the full advantages of the type will be attained

only when the two sets of activities are correspondingly strong.

Here we may see perhaps the explanation of the astounding success

and completeness of {62} gregariousness in bees and ants. Their

cycle of development was early complete because the possibilities

of reaction of the individual were so small, and consequently the

capacity for intercommunication of the individual was relatively soon

able to attain a corresponding grade. The individual has become as

completely merged in the hive as the single cell in the multicellular

animal, and consequently the whole of her activities is available for

the uses of the State. It is interesting to notice that, considered

from this aspect, the wonderful society of the bee, with its perfect

organization and its wonderful adaptability and elasticity, owes its

early attainment of success to the smallness of the brain power of the

individual.

For the mammals with their greater powers of varied reaction the

path to the consummation of their possibilities must be longer, more

painful, and more dangerous, and this applies in an altogether special

degree to man.

The enormous power of varied reaction possessed by man must render

necessary for his attainment of the full advantages of the gregarious

habit a power of intercommunication of absolutely unprecedented

fineness. It is clear that scarcely a hint of such power has yet

appeared, and it is equally obvious that it is this defect which gives

to society the characteristics which are the contempt of the man of

science and the disgust of the humanitarian.

We are now in a position to understand how momentous is the question

as to what society does with the raw material of its minds to

encourage in them the potential capacity for intercommunication which

they undoubtedly by nature possess. To that question there is but

one answer. By providing its members with a herd tradition which is

constantly at war with feeling and with experience, {63} society,

drives them inevitably into resistiveness on the one hand, or into

mental instability on the other, conditions which have this in common,

that they tend to exaggerate that isolation of the individual which is

shown us by the intellect to be unnatural and by the heart to be cruel.

Another urgent question for the future is provided by the steady

increase, relative and absolute, of the mentally unstable. The danger

to the State constituted by a large unstable class is already generally

recognized, but unfortunately realization has so far only instigated

a yet heavier blow at the species. It is assumed that instability is

a primary quality, and therefore only to be dealt with by breeding

it out. With that indifference to the mental side of life which is

characteristic of the mentally resistant class, the question as to the

real meaning of instability has been begged by the invention of the

disastrous word “degenerate.” The simplicity of the idea has charmed

modern speculation, and the only difficulty in the whole problem has

come to be the decision as to the most expeditious way of getting rid

of this troublesome flaw in an otherwise satisfactory world.

The conception that the natural environment of man must be modified

if the body is to survive has long been recognized, but the fact that

the mind is incomparably more delicate than the body has scarcely been

noticed at all. We assume that the disorderly environment with which

we surround the mind has no effect, and are ingenuously surprised when

mental instability arises apparently from nowhere; but although we know

nothing of its origin our temerity in applying the cure is in no sense

daunted.

It has already been pointed out how dangerous it would be to breed

man for reason—that is, against suggestibility. The idea is a fit

companion for the {64} device of breeding against “degeneracy.” The

“degenerate”—that is, the mentally unstable—have demonstrated by the

mere fact of instability that they possess the quality of sensitiveness

to feeling and to experience, for it is this which has prevented them

from applying the remedy of rationalization or exclusion when they

have met with experience conflicting with herd suggestion. There can

be no doubt as to the value to the State of such sensitiveness were

it developed in a congruous environment. The “degeneracy,” therefore,

which we see developed as a secondary quality in these sensitive

minds is no evidence against the degenerate, but an indictment of the

disorderly environment which has ruined them, just as the catchword

associating insanity and genius tells us nothing about genius but a

great deal about the situation into which it has had the misfortune to

be born.

Sensitiveness to feeling and experience is undoubtedly the necessary

antecedent of any high grade of that power of intercommunication which

we have seen to be necessary to the satisfactory development of man.

Such sensitiveness, however, in society as it now is, inevitably leads

merely to mental instability. That such sensitiveness increases with

civilization is shown by the close association between civilization

and mental instability. There is no lack, therefore, of the mental

quality of all others most necessary to the gregarious animal. The

pressing problem which in fact faces man in the immediate future is how

to readjust the mental environment in such a way that sensitiveness

may develop and confer on man the enormous advantages which it holds

for him, without being transformed from a blessing into the curse and

menace of instability. To the biologist it is quite clear that this can

be effected only by an extension of the rational method to the whole

field of experience, a {65} process of the greatest difficulty, but

one which must be the next great variation in man’s development if that

development is to continue to be an evolution.

Outside this possibility the imagination can see nothing but grounds

for pessimism. It needs but little effort of foresight to realize that

without some totally revolutionary change in man’s attitude towards

the mind, even his very tenure of the earth may come to be threatened.

Recent developments in the study of disease have shown us how blind and

fumbling have been our efforts against the attacks of our immemorial

enemies the unicellular organisms. When we remember their capacities

for variation and our fixity, we can see that for the race effectually

and permanently to guard itself against even this one danger are

necessary that fineness and complexity of organization, that rendering

available of the utmost capacity of its members, against which the

face of society seems at present to be so steadily set. We see man

to-day, instead of the frank and courageous recognition of his status,

the docile attention to his biological history, the determination to

let nothing stand in the way of the security and permanence of his

future, which alone can establish the safety and happiness of the race,

substituting blind confidence in his destiny, unclouded faith in the

essentially respectful attitude of the universe towards his moral code,

and a belief no less firm that his traditions and laws and institutions

necessarily contain permanent qualities of reality. Living as he does

in a world where outside his race no allowances are made for infirmity,

and where figments however beautiful never become facts, it needs but

little imagination to see how great are the probabilities that after

all man will prove but one more of Nature’s failures, ignominously to

be swept from her work-table to make way for another venture of her

tireless curiosity and patience.

1909.

{66} SPECULATIONS UPON THE HUMAN MIND IN 1915

MAN’S PLACE IN NATURE AND NATURE’S PLACE IN MAN

As the nineteenth century draws away into the past and it is possible

to get a comprehensive view of the intellectual legacies it has left

to its successor, certain of its ideas stand out from the general mass

by reason of the greatness of their scale and scope. Ideas of the

first order of magnitude are from their very greatness capable of full

appreciation only in a comparatively distant view. However much they

have been admired and studied by contemporary thought, it is with the

passage of time only that all their proportions come gradually into

focus. The readjustments of thought as to what used to be called man’s

place in nature, which were so characteristic a work of the latter

half of the nineteenth century, embodied an idea of this imperial type

which, fruitful as it has proved, has even now yielded far less than

its full harvest of truth.

The conception of man as an animal, at first entertained only in a

narrow zoological sense, has gradually extended in significance, and is

now beginning to be understood as a guiding principle in the study of

all the activities of the individual and the species. In the early days

such a conception was regarded by non-scientific thought as degrading

to man, and as denying to him the possibility of moral progress {67}

and the reality of his higher æsthetic and emotional capabilities;

at the same time, men of science found themselves compelled, however

unwillingly, to deny that the moral activities of man could be made

consistent with his status as an animal. It may still be remembered

how even the evolutionary enthusiasm of Huxley was baffled by the

incompatibility he found to subsist between what he called the ethical

and the cosmical processes, and how he stood bewildered by the sight

of moral beauty blossoming incorrigibly amidst the cruelty, lust, and

bloodshed of the world.

The passage of time has tended more and more to clear up these

lingering confusions of an anthropocentric biology, and thought is

gradually gaining courage to explore, not merely the body of man but

his mind and his moral capacities, in the knowledge that these are

not meaningless intrusions into an otherwise orderly world, but are

partakers in him and his history just as are his vermiform appendix and

his stomach, and are elements in the complex structure of the universe

as respectably established there, and as racy of that soil as the

oldest saurian or the newest gas.

Man is thus not merely, as it were, rescued from the inhuman loneliness

which he had been taught was his destiny and persuaded was his pride,

but he is relieved from perplexities and temptations which had so long

proved obstacles to his finding himself and setting out valiantly on

an upward path. Cut off from his history and regarded as an exile into

a lower world, he can scarcely fail to be appalled and crushed by the

discrepancy between his lofty pretensions and his lowly acts. If he but

recognize that he himself and his virtues and aspirations are integral

strands in the fabric of life, he will learn that the great tissue of

reality loses none of its splendour by the fact that near by where the

pattern {68} glows with his courage and his pride it burns with the

radiance of the tiger, and over against his intellect and his genius it

mocks in the grotesques of the ape.

The development of an objective attitude towards the status of man

has had, perhaps, its most significant effect in the influence it has

exercised upon the study of the human mind.

The desire to understand the modes of action of the mind, and to

formulate about them generalizations which shall be of practical value,

has led to inquiries being pursued along three distinct paths. These

several methods may be conveniently distinguished as the primitive, the

human, and the comparative.

What I have called the primitive method of psychological inquiry is

also the obvious and natural one. It takes man as it finds him, accepts

his mind for what it professes to be, and examines into its processes

by introspection of a direct and simple kind. It is necessarily subject

to the conditions that the object of study is also the medium through

which the observations are made, and that there is no objective

standard by which the accuracy of transmission through this medium can

be estimated and corrected. In the result the materials collected are

subjected to a very special and very stringent kind of censorship. If

an observation is acceptable and satisfactory to the mind itself, it

is reported as true; if it contains material which is unwelcome to the

mind, it is reported as false; and in both cases the failure is in no

sense due to any conscious dishonesty in the observing mind, but is a

fallacy necessarily inherent in the method. A fairly characteristic

product of inquiries of this type is the conception, which seems so

obvious to common sense, that introspection does give access to all

mental processes, so that a conscious motive must be discoverable for

all the acts of the subject. Experience {69} with more objective

methods has shown that when no motive is found for a given act or no

motive consistent with the mind’s pretensions as to itself, there will

always be a risk of a presentable one being extemporized.

Psychology of this primitive type—the naïve psychology of common

sense—is always necessarily tainted with what may be called in a

special sense anthropomorphism; it tells us, that is to say, not what

man is but what he thinks and feels himself to be. Judged by its fruits

in enabling us to foretell or to influence conduct, it is worthless.

It has been studied for thousands of years and infinite ingenuities

have been expended on it, and yet at its best it can only tell us

how the average man thinks his mind works—a body of information not

sensibly superior in reality to the instructions of a constitutional

monarch addressed to an unruly parliament. It has distracted thought

with innumerable falsifications, but in all its secular cultivation has

produced no body of generalizations of value in the practical conduct

of life.

COMMENTS ON AN OBJECTIVE SYSTEM OF HUMAN PSYCHOLOGY

I

Until comparatively recent years the fact that what was called

psychology did not even pretend to be of any practical value in affairs

was tolerated by its professors and regarded as more or less in the

nature of things. The science, therefore, outside a small class of

specialists was in very dismal reputation. It had come to comprise two

divergent schools, one which busied itself with the apparatus of the

experimental physiologist and frankly studied the physiology of the

nervous system, the other {70} which occupied itself with the faded

abstractions of logic and metaphysics, while both agreed in ignoring

the study of the mind. This comparative sterility may in a broad way

be traced back to the one fundamental defect from which the science

suffered—the absence of an objective standard by which the value of

mental observations could be estimated. Failing such a standard, any

given mental phenomenon might be as much a product of the observing

mind as of the mind observed, or the varying degrees in which both of

these factors contributed might be inextricably mixed. Of late years

the much-needed objective standard has been sought and to some extent

found in two directions. What I have called “human” psychology has

found it in the study of diseases of the mind. In states of disease

mental processes and mechanisms which had eluded observation in the

normal appear in an exaggerated form which renders recognition less

difficult. The enlightenment coming from the understanding of such

pathological material has made it possible to argue back to the less

obtrusive or more effectively concealed phenomena of the normal and

more or less to exclude the fallacies of the observing mind, and, at

any rate in part, to dissipate the obscurity which for so long had

successfully hidden the actual mental phenomena themselves.

The most remarkable attack upon the problems of psychology which has

been made from the purely human standpoint is that in which the rich

genius of Sigmund Freud was and still is the pioneer. The school which

his work has founded was concerned at first wholly with the study of

abnormal mental states, and came into notice as a branch of medicine

finding the verification of its principles in the success it laid

claim to in the treatment of certain mental diseases. It now regards

itself as possessing a body {71} of doctrine of general applicability

to mental phenomena, normal or abnormal. These principles are the

product of laborious and minute inquiries into the working of the

mind, rendered possible by the use of a characteristic method known

as psycho-analysis. This method, which constitutes a definite and

elaborate technique of investigation, is looked upon by those who

practise it as the sole means by which access can be obtained to the

veritable phenomena of the mind, and as rendering possible a truly

objective view of the facts. It is no part of my purpose to examine the

validity of psycho-analysis as a scientific method. It is enough to

notice that the exponents of it completely repudiate the teachings of

what I have called “common-sense” psychology, that they maintain that

objectivity in the collection and collation of psychical facts is in

no way to be obtained by the light of nature but demands very special

methods and precautions, and that their claims to the possession of a

truly objective method appear to be open to verification or disproof by

actual experiment in the treatment of disease. Whatever value, then,

psycho-analysis may ultimately prove to possess in solving the peculiar

difficulties of psychological research, the evolution of it marks a

very definite advance in principle and shows that it is the product of

a mind determined by whatever effort to get to close quarters with the

facts.

The body of doctrine enunciated by Freud concerns us more directly than

the peculiarities of his method. Some very general and summary account

may therefore be attempted as illustrating the characteristics of this

vigorous, aggressive, and essentially “human” school of research.

The Freudian psychology regards the mind of the adult as the outcome of

a process of development the stages of which are within limits, orderly

{72} and inevitable. The trend of this development in each individual

is determined by forces which are capable of precise definition, and

the final product of it is capable of yielding to expert examination

clear evidence of the particular way in which these forces have acted

and interacted during the developmental process. The mind of the adult,

then, is like the body in bearing traces which betray to the skilled

observer the events of its developmental history. Inconspicuous and

apparently insignificant structures and peculiarities in the one no

less than in the other prove to have had a meaning and a function in

the past, however little significance their final form may seem to

possess, and thus the psychologist is able to reconstruct the history

of a given subject’s mind, although the most important stages of its

development are hidden from direct observation as effectively as is the

prenatal growth of the body.

Instincts of the Herd in Peace and War · 第 4 / 19 段