Another physiological effect of emotion ought to be mentioned, as of

recent years it has been the object of much and intensive study by

numerous students and has been frequently made use of in the clinical

study of mental derangements and in the study of subconscious phenomena.

I refer to the so-called “_psycho-galvanic reflex_.” As an outcome of

all the investigations which have been made by numerous students into

this phenomenon, it now seems clear that there are two types of galvanic

reactions, distinct from each other, which can be recognized. The one

type first described by Féré[211] consists in an increase, brought about

by emotion, of a galvanic current made to pass through the body from a

galvanic cell. If a very sensitive galvanometer is put in circuit with

the body and such a cell, a certain deviation of the needle of course

may be noted varying in amplitude according to the resistance of the

body. Now, if an idea associated with emotion—i.e., possessing a

sufficient amount of affective tone—is made to enter the consciousness

of the person experimented upon, there is observed an increased

deflection of the needle, showing an increase of current under the

influence of the emotion. The generally accepted interpretation of this

increase is that it is due to diminished resistance of the skin (with

which the electrodes are in contact) caused by an increase of the

secretions of the sweat glands. A similar increase of current follows

various sensory stimulations, such as the pricking of a pin, loud

noises, etc. It may be interesting for historical reasons to quote here

Féré’s statement of his observations, as they seem to be generally

overlooked. In his volume, “La Pathologie des Emotions,” in 1892, he

thus sums up his earlier and later observations: "I then produce various

sensory stimulations—visual (colored glasses), auditory (tuning fork),

gustatory, olfactory, etc. Whereupon there results a sudden deviation of

the needle of the galvanometer which, for the strongest stimulations,

may travel fifteen divisions (milliampères). The same deviation may also

be produced under the influence of sthenic emotions, that is to say, it

is produced under all the conditions where I have previously noticed an

augmentation of the size of the limbs, made evident through the

plethysmograph. Absence of stimulation, on the contrary, increases the

resistance; in one subject the deviation was reduced by simply closing

the eyes.

“Since these facts were first described at the Biological Society I have

been enabled to make more exact observations by using the process

recommended by A. Vigouroux (De la résistance électrique chez les

mélancoliques, Th. 1890, p. 17), and I have ascertained that under the

influence of painful emotions or tonic emotions the electrical

resistance may, in hystericals, instantaneously vary from 4,000 to

60,000 ohms.”

It will be noticed that Féré attributed the variations of the current to

variations of resistance of the body induced by sensations and emotions.

The method of obtaining the psycho-galvanic reaction may be varied in

many ways, the underlying principle being the same, namely, the arousing

of an emotion of some kind. This may be simply through imagined ideas,

or by expectant attention, sensory stimulation, suggested thoughts,

verbal stimuli, etc. According to Peterson and Jung,[212] “excluding the

effect of attention, we find that every stimulus accompanied by an

emotion causes a rise in the electric curve, and directly in proportion

to the liveliness and actuality of the emotion aroused. The galvanometer

is therefore a measurer of the amount of emotional tone, and becomes a

new instrument of precision in psychological research.” This last

statement can hardly be said to be justified, as we have no means of

measuring the “liveliness and actuality” of an emotion and, therefore,

of co-relating it with a galvanic current, nor have we any grounds for

assuming that the secretion of sweat (upon which the diminished

resistance of the body presumably depends) is proportionate to the

liveliness of the emotion, or, indeed, even that it always occurs. It is

enough to say that the galvanic current is in general a means of

detecting the presence of emotion.

The second type of galvanic reaction, as shown by Sidis and Kalmus,[213]

does not depend upon the diminished resistance of the body to a galvanic

current passing from without through the body, but is a current

originating within the body under the influence of emotion. Sidis and

Kalmus concluded that “active psycho-physiological processes, sensory

and emotional processes, with the exception of purely ideational ones,

initiated in a living organism, bring about electromotive forces with

consequent galvanometric deflections.” In a later series of experiments

Sidis and Nelson[214] came to the conclusion that the origin of the

electromotive force causing the galvanic deflection was in the

muscles.[215] Wells and Forbes,[216] on the other hand, conclude from

their own investigation that the origin of the galvanic current is to be

found in the sweat gland activity and believe the muscular origin

improbable. From a clinical standpoint the question is unimportant.

_Sensory disturbances._ On the sensory side the effect of emotions,

particularly unpleasant ones, in awakening “thrills” and all sorts of

sensations in different parts of the body is a matter of everyday

observation. _Nausea_, _dizziness_, _headache_, _pains_ of different

kinds are common accompaniments. Such reactions, however, largely vary

as idiosyncrasies of the individual, and are obviously not open to

experimentation or measurement. Whether they should be spoken of as

physiological or aberrant reactions is a matter of terminology. They

are, however, of common occurrence. In pathological conditions

disagreeable sensations accompanying fear, grief, disgust, and other

distressing forms of emotion often play a prominent part, and as

symptoms contribute to the syndromes of the psychosis. The following

quaintly described case quoted by Cannon from Burton’s Anatomy of

Melancholy is as good as a more modern illustration: “A gentlewoman of

the same city saw a fat hog cut up; when the entrails were opened, and a

noisome savour offended her nose, she much disliked, and would not

longer abide; a physician in presence told her, as that hog, so was she

full of filthy excrements, and aggravated the matter by some other

loathsome instances, insomuch this nice gentlewoman apprehended it so

deeply that she fell forthwith a vomiting; was so mightily distempered

in mind and body that, with all his art and persuasion, for some months

after, he could not restore her to herself again; she could not forget

or remove the object out of her sight.” Cannon remarks: “Truly, here was

a moving circle of causation, in which the physician himself probably

played the part of a recurrent augmenter of the trouble. The first

disgust disturbed the stomach, and the disturbance of the stomach, in

turn, aroused in the mind greater disgust, and thus between them the

influences continued to and fro until digestion was impaired and serious

functional derangement supervened. The stomach is ‘king of the belly,’

quotes Burton, ‘for if he is affected all the rest suffer with him.’”

Such cases could be multiplied many fold from the records of every

psychopathologist. I happen by chance to be interrupted while writing

this page by a patient who presents herself suffering from a phobia of

fainting. When this fear (possibly with other emotions) is awakened she

is attacked by nausea and eructation of the gastric contents, and, if

she takes food, by vomiting of the meal. (Owing to a misunderstanding of

the true pathology by her physician, her stomach was washed out

constantly for a period of two years without relief!)

=General psychopathology.=—In the light of all these well-known

physiological effects of emotion it is apparent that when an idea

possessing a strong emotional tone, such as fear or its variants, enters

consciousness, it is accompanied by a complex of physiological

reactions. In other words, fear, _as a biological reaction_ of the

organism to a stimulus, does not consist of the psychical element alone,

but includes a large syndrome of physiological processes. We can,

indeed, theoretically construct a schema which would represent the

emotional reaction. This schema would undoubtedly vary in detail in

particular cases, according to the excitability of the different

visceral functions involved in different individuals and to the mixture

of the emotions taking part (fear, disgust, shame, anger, etc.). As one

type, for instance, of a schema, taking only the most obtrusive

phenomena which do not require special technique for their detection, we

would have:

Fear (or one of its variants, anxiety, apprehension, etc., or a compound

emotion that includes fear).

Inhibition of thought (confusion).

Pallor of the skin.

Increased perspiration.

Cardiac palpitation.

Respiratory disturbances.

Tremor.

Muscular weakness.

Gastric and intestinal disturbances.

(Blushing or congestion of the skin would replace pallor if the fear was

represented or accompanied by shame or bashfulness, etc.

(self-debasement and self-consciousness),[217] or if the affective state

was anger.)

On the sensory side we would have various paresthesiæ varying with the

idiosyncrasies of the individual, and apparently dependent upon the

paths through which the emotional energy is discharged:

“Thrills.”

Feeling of oppression in the chest.

Headache.

Nausea (with or without vomiting).

Pains, fatigue, etc.

It is of practical importance to note that attacks of powerful emotions,

according to common experience, are apt to be followed by exhaustion;

consequently in morbid fears fatigue is a frequent sequela.

Physiological Mimicry of Disease.

Now, theoretically, one or more of these physiological disturbances

might be so obtrusive as to be the predominant feature of the syndrome

and to mask the psychical element which might then be overlooked.

Gastric and intestinal disturbances, for instance, or cardiac distress,

might be so marked as not to be recognized as simply manifestations of

an emotion, but be mistaken for true gastric, intestinal, or heart

disease. Going one step further, if a person had a frequently recurring

fear, as is so common, and the physiological symptoms were obtrusively

predominant, these latter would necessarily recur in attacks and,

overshadowing the psychical element, might well have all the appearance

(both to the subject and the observer) of true disease of the viscera.

Now, as a fact this theoretical possibility is just what happens. It is

one of the commonest of occurrences, although it is too frequently

misunderstood.[218] A person, we will say, has acquired—owing to no

matter what psychogenetic factor—a recurrent fear. This fear, or, in

less obtrusive form, anxiety, or apprehension, is, we will say, of

disease—heart disease or insanity or fainting or cancer or epilepsy or

what not. It recurs from time to time when awakened by some thought or

stimulus from the environment. At once there is an outburst of

physiological, i.e., functional disturbances, in the form of an

“attack.” There may be violent cardiac and respiratory disease, tremor,

flushing, perspiration, diarrhœa, sensory disturbances, etc., followed

by more or less lasting exhaustion. On the principle of complex

building, which we have discussed in a previous lecture, the various

physiological reactions embraced in such a scheme as I have outlined

tend to become welded into a complex (or association psycho-neurosis),

and this complex of reactions in consequence recurs as a syndrome every

time the fear is reëxcited. On every occasion when the anxiety recurs, a

group of symptoms recurs which is made up of these physical

manifestations of emotion which are peculiar to the individual case. The

symptoms, unless a searching inquiry is made into their mode of onset,

sequence, and associative relations, will appear a chaotic mass of

unrelated phenomena; or only certain obtrusive ones, which in the mind

of the patient point to disease of a particular organ, are described by

him. The remainder have to be specifically sought for by the

investigator. The latter, if experienced in such psycho-neuroses, can

often from his knowledge of the phenomena of emotion anticipate the

facts and in a large degree foretell to the patient the list of symptoms

from which he suffers. By those who lack familiarity with these

functional disturbances mistakes in diagnosis are frequently made.

Disease of the heart, or of the stomach, or of the nervous system is

frequently diagnosed when the symptoms are simply the product of

emotion. Quite commonly, when the symptoms are less related to

particular organs, but more conspicuously embrace vasomotor, sensory,

digestive disturbances (inhibition of function), and fatigue, the

syndrome is mistaken for so-called _neurasthenia_.[219] Thus it happens

that in recurrent morbid fears—known as the phobias or obsessions—a

group of symptoms are met with which at first sight appear to be

unrelated bodily disturbances, but which when analyzed are seen to be

only a certain number of physiological manifestations of emotion welded

into a complex. On every occasion that the fear recurs this complex is

reproduced.

It now remains to study the effect of the emotions on the psychical

side. This we shall do in the next lecture.

-----

Footnote 196:

I use the word, not in the strict but in the popular and general

sense, to include feeling, indeed all affective states, excepting

where the context gives the strict meaning.

Footnote 197:

The James-Lange theory is disregarded here as untenable.

Footnote 198:

La Pathologie des Emotions, 1892.

Footnote 199:

Physiological Dilatation and the Mitral Sphincter as Factors in

Functional and Organic Disturbances of the Heart, _The American

Journal of the Medical Sciences_, February, 1901; also, The Occurrence

and Mechanism of Physiological Heart Murmurs (Endocardial) in Healthy

Individuals, _The Medical Record_, April 20, 1889.

Footnote 200:

The emotional factor is a source of possible fallacy in all

observations on arterial tension and must be guarded against.

Footnote 201:

Frederick Peterson and C. G. Jung: Psycho-Physical Investigations with

the Galvanometer and Pneumograph, _Brain_, Vol. XXX, July, 1907, p.

153.

Footnote 202:

The Work of the Digestive Glands (English Translation), London, 02.

Footnote 203:

For a summary of Cannon’s work, see his article, Recent Advances in

the Physiology of the Digestive Organs Bearing on Medicine and

Surgery, _The Medical Journal of Medical Sciences_, 1906, New Series,

Vol. CXXXI, pp. 563-578.

Footnote 204:

_American Journal of Medical Sciences_, 1906, p. 566. See also “The

Influence of Emotional States on the Functions of the Alimentary

Canal,” by the same writer (_ibid._, April, 1909) for an interesting

résumé of the subject.

Footnote 205:

_American Journal of the Medical Sciences_, April, 1909.

Footnote 206:

Cannon and de la Paz: _American Journal of Physiology_, April 1, 1911.

Footnote 207:

Cannon, Shohl, and Wright, Ibid., December 1, 1911.

Footnote 208:

These effects of adrenalin suggest that the secretion may take some

part in pathological anxiety states.

Footnote 209:

Pathologie des Emotions, 1892.

The influence of emotion on the _muscular system_ need hardly be more

than referred to. Tremor, twitchings, particularly of the facial

muscles, and other involuntary movements, as well as modifications of

the tonus of the muscles, are common effects. All sorts of

disturbances occur, ranging from increase of excitability to

paralysis. Everyone knows that under the influence of powerful

emotion, whether of joy, anger, or fear, there is discharged an

increase of energy to the muscles, sometimes of an intensity which

enables an individual to

Footnote 210:

The Integrative Action of the Nervous System, p. 266.

Footnote 211:

Note sur les modifications de la résistance électrique sous

l’influence des excitations sensorielles et des émotions, _C. R. Soc.

de Biologie_, 1888, p. 217.

Footnote 212:

Psycho-Physical Investigations with the Galvanometer and Pneumograph

in Normal and Insane Individuals, _Brain_, Vol. XXX, July, 1907.

Footnote 213:

_Psychological Review_, November, 1908, and January, 1909.

Footnote 214:

The Nature and Causation of the Galvanic Phenomena, _Psychological

Review_, March, 1910, _Journal of Abnormal Psychology_, June-July,

1910.

Footnote 215:

Having demonstrated the development of electromotive force within the

body, these experimenters assumed that every psycho-galvanic reaction

was of this type. But plainly, their results do not contradict the

phenomenon of diminished resistance of the body to an electric current

brought about by emotion stimulating the sweat glands. The evidence

indicates, as I have said, two types of psycho-galvanic phenomena.

Footnote 216:

On Certain Electrical Processes in the Human Body and Their Relation

to Emotional Reactions, _Archives of Psychology_, March, 1911.

Footnote 217:

Morbid self-consciousness is commonly accompanied by fear and other

emotions. Nausea, although the specific manifestation of disgust, not

rarely is induced by fear.

Footnote 218:

A good example is that of an extreme “neurasthenic,” who had been

reduced to a condition of severe inanition from inability to take a

proper amount of food because of failure of digestion, nausea, and

vomiting. Examined by numerous and able physicians in this country and

Europe, none had been able to recognize any organic disease or the

true cause of the gastric difficulty which remained a puzzle. As a

therapeutic measure her stomach had been continuously and regularly

washed out. Yet it was not difficult to recognize, after analyzing the

symptoms and the conditions of their occurrence, that the disturbances

of the gastric functions were due to complex mental factors, the chief

of which, emotion, inhibited the gastric function, as in Cannon’s

experiments, and indirectly or directly, induced the nausea and

vomiting. The correctness of this diagnosis was recognized by the

attending physician and patient. Sometimes a phobia complicates a true

organic disease and produces symptoms which mimic the symptoms of the

latter—heart disease, for example. In this case it is often difficult

to recognize the purely phobic character of the symptoms. O. H. C. was

such a case. Though there was severe valvular disease of the heart,

compensation was good and there was little if any cardiac disability.

The attacks of dyspnœa and other symptoms were unmistakably the

physical manifestation of a phobia of the disease. The phobia had been

artificially created by overcautious physicians.

Footnote 219:

One has only to compare routine out-patient hospital records with the

actual state of patients to verify the truth of this statement. For

purposes of instruction I have frequently done this before the class.

The true nature of the psycho-neurosis and the irrelevancy of the

routine record and diagnosis have, I believe, been commonly made

manifest. Sometimes, however, of course, phobias complicate other

diseases, and we have a mixed symptomatology.

LECTURE XV

INSTINCTS, SENTIMENTS, AND CONFLICTS

It is generally agreed that emotions proper (as distinguished from other

affective states) may be divided into those which are primary (anger,

fear, disgust, etc.), and those (jealousy, admiration, hatred, etc.),

which are compounded of two or more primary emotions. McDougall has made

a great contribution to our knowledge in having made clear that a

primary emotion is not only instinctive, but is the central or psychical

element in a reflex process consisting, besides, of an ingoing stimulus

and an outgoing impulse. The whole process is the instinct.[220] It is

of course innate, and depends on congenital prearrangements of the

nervous system. The central element, the emotion, provides the conative

or impulse force which carries the instinct to fulfilment. It is the

motive power, the dynamic agent that executes, that propels the response

which follows the stimulus. Though we speak of anger and fear, for

example, as instincts, McDougall is unquestionably right in insisting

that more correctly speaking the activated instinct is a process in

which the emotion is only one factor—the psychical. The instincts of

anger and fear should more precisely be termed respectively “pugnacity

with the emotion of anger” and “flight with the emotion of fear.” In the

one case, the emotion, as the central reaction to a stimulus, by its

conative force impels to pugnacity; in the other fear impels to flight;

and so with the other instincts and their emotions which I would suggest

may be termed arbitrarily the _emotion-instincts_, to distinguish them

from the more general instincts and innate dispositions with which

animal psychology chiefly deals, and in which the affective element is

feebler or has less of the specific psychical quality. For brevity’s

sake, however, we may speak of the instinct of anger, fear, tender

feeling, etc. Of course they are biological in their nature.

This formulation, by McDougall, of emotion as one factor in an

instinctive process must be regarded as one of the most important

contributions to our knowledge of the mechanism of emotion. It can

scarcely be traversed, as it is little more than a descriptive statement

of observed facts. It is strange that this conception of the process

should have been so long overlooked. Its value lies in replacing

vagueness with a precise conception of one of the most important of

psychological phenomena, and enables us to clearly understand the part

played by emotion in mental processes. It also shows clearly the

inadequacy of the objective methods of normal psychology when attempting

to investigate emotion by measuring the discharge of its impulsive force

in one direction only, namely, the disturbances of the functions of the

viscera (vasomotor, glandular, etc.). It discharges also along lines of

mental activity and conduct.

When studying the organization of complexes, and in other lectures, we

saw, as everyone knows in a general way, that _affects may become linked

with ideas_, and that the force derived from this association gives to

the ideas intensity and conative influence. Further, it was developed

that the linking of a strong affect tends to stronger registration and

conservation of experiences. This linking of an affect to an idea is one

of the foundation stones of the pathology of the psycho-neuroses. One

might say that upon it “hangs all the law and the prophets.”

Inasmuch as a sentiment, even in the connotations of popular language,

besides being an idea always involves an affective element, it is

obvious that _a sentiment is an idea of an object with which one or more

emotions are organized_. But, obvious as it is, it remained for Mr.

Shand, as McDougall reminds us, to make this precise definition. It is

hardly a discovery as the latter puts it, as the facts themselves have

been long known; but it is a valuable definition and its value lies in

helping us to think clearly. Nearly every idea, if not every idea, has

an affective tone of some kind, or is one of a complex of ideas endowed

with such tone. This tone may be weak so as to be hardly recognizable,

or it may be strong. Now, if emotion is one factor in an instinctive

process, it is evident that a sentiment more precisely is an idea of an

object linked or organized with one or more “emotion-instincts.” As

McDougall has precisely phrased it, “A sentiment is an organized system

of emotional dispositions centered about the idea of some object.” The

impulsive force of the emotional dispositions or linked instincts

becomes the conative force of the idea, and it is this factor which

carries the idea to fruition. This is one of the most important

principles of functional psychology. Its value can scarcely be

exaggerated. Without the impulse of a linked emotion ideas would be

lifeless, dead, inert, incapable of determining conduct. But when we say

that an emotion becomes linked to, i.e., organized with that composite

called an idea, _we really mean (according to this theory of emotion)

that it is the whole instinct, the emotional innate disposition of which

the emotion is only a part that is so linked_. The instinct has also

afferent and efferent activities. The latter is an impulsive or conative

force discharged by the emotion. Thus the affective element of an

instinctive process—a process which is a biological reaction—provides

the driving force, makes the idea a dynamic factor, moves us to carry

the idea to fulfilment. As McDougall has expressed it:

"We may say, then, that directly or indirectly the instincts are the

prime movers of all human activity; by the conative or impulsive force

of some instinct (or of some habit derived from some instinct), every

train of thought, however cold and passionless it may seem, is borne

along toward its end, and every bodily activity is initiated and

sustained. The instinctive impulses determine the ends of all

activities and supply the driving power by which all mental activities

are sustained; and all the complex intellectual apparatus of the most

highly developed mind is but a means toward these ends, is but the

instrument by which these impulses seek their satisfactions, while

pleasure and pain do but serve to guide them in their choice of the

means.

“Take away these instinctive dispositions with their powerful

impulses, and the organism would become incapable of activity of any

kind; it would lie inert and motionless like a wonderful clockwork

whose mainspring had been removed, or a steam engine whose fires had

been drawn. These impulses are the mental forces that maintain and

shape all the life of individuals and societies, and in them we are

confronted with the central mystery of life and mind and will.”[221]

Furthermore _the organization of the emotions with ideas to form

sentiments is essential for self-control and regulation of conduct_, and

becomes a safeguard against mental, physiological, and social chaos.

“The growth of the sentiments is of the utmost importance for the

character and conduct of individuals and of societies; it is the

organization of the affective and conative life. In the absence of

sentiments our emotional life would be a mere chaos, without order,

consistency, or continuity of any kind; and all our social relations

and conduct, being based on the emotions and their impulses, would be

correspondingly chaotic, unpredictable, and unstable. It is only

through the systematic organization of the emotional dispositions in

sentiments that the volitional control of the immediate promptings of

the emotions is rendered possible. Again, our judgments of value and

of merit are rooted in our sentiments; and our moral principles have

the same source, for they are formed by our judgments of moral

value.”[222]

Summing up, then, we may say _one of the chief functions of emotion_ is

to provide the conative force which enables ideas to fulfill their aims,

and one of the chief functions of sentiments to control and regulate the

emotions.

Besides the instinctive dispositions proper there are other innate

dispositions which similarly provide conative force and determine

activities. For the practical purposes of the problems with which we are

concerned, the conative or impulsive forces of all such innate

dispositions and the sentiments which they help to form are here, it

should be understood, considered together and included under instincts.

=The conative function of emotion.=—I shall take up in a later

lecture[223] (in connection with the psychogenesis of multiple

personality) the instincts and sentiments for discussion in more detail.

The point to which I wish in this connection to call attention is that

when a simple emotion-instinct, or an idea linked with an instinct (a

sentiment) is awakened by any stimulus, _its impulsive force is

discharged in three directions_: the _first_ is toward the excitation of

those articulated movements and ideas which guide and carry the instinct

to fruition—to fight in the case of anger, to flee in the case of fear,

to cherish in the case of love, etc. _Second_ (accessory to the first)

the excitation of many of the various visceral functions which we have

reviewed reinforces the instinctive movements; e. g., for pugnacity or

flight the increased respiration and activity of the heart increase the

supply of oxygen and blood to the muscles; the secretion of sweat

regulates the temperature during increased activity, the increased

secretion of adrenalin and the increased secretion of sugar may, as

Cannon suggests, respectively keep up the emotional state (after the

cause of the fear or anger has subsided) and meet the demand of the

muscles for an extra supply of food, etc.

Later experiments of Cannon seem to show that the adrenal secretion

removes the fatigue of muscles; and, further, that stimulation of the

splanchic nerves will largely recover fatigued muscles, increasing the

efficiency as much as 100 per cent.[224] As emotion discharges its

impulses along splanchic pathways to the adrenal glands, the inference

as to the function of emotion in overcoming fatigue is obvious.

As to the _sensory accompaniments of emotion_, it is quite reasonable to

suppose that their rôle is to supplement and reinforce in consciousness

the affect, thereby aiding in arousing the individual to a full

appreciation of the situation and to such voluntary effort (whether to

guide and assist the instinct to its fulfillment or to repress it) as,

in the light of past experiences, his judgment dictates. These sensory

disturbances on this theory act as additional warnings in consciousness

where the affect proper might be too weak.[225] Their function would be

like that of pain in the case of organic disease. Pain is a biological

reaction and a warning to the individual to rest the diseased part,[226]

as well as a danger signal.

The _third_ direction which the discharge of the impulsive force of the

emotion takes is toward the repression of the conflicting conative force

of such other emotions as would act in an antagonistic direction.[227]

The utility of the discharge in this direction is supplementary to that

of the excitation of the visceral functions: _the former protects

against the invasion of counteracting forces, the latter strengthens the

force of the impulse in question_.

_Conflicts thus arise._ When an emotion is aroused a conflict

necessarily occurs between its impulse and that of any other existing

affective state, the impulse of which is antagonistic to the aim of the

former. Consequently instincts and sentiments which, through the

conative force of their emotion, tend to drive the conduct of the

individual in a course in opposition to that of a newly aroused emotion

(instinct) meet with resistance. Whichever instinct or sentiment,

meaning whichever impulse, is the stronger necessarily downs the other;

inhibits the central and efferent parts of the process—ideas, emotions

and impulses—though the afferent part conveys the stimulus to the

central factor. Thus processes of thought to which the inhibited

sentiment or instinct would normally give rise, or with which it is

systematized, are likewise inhibited and behavior correspondingly

modified. These statements are only descriptive of what is common

experience. If one recalls to mind the principal primary emotions

(instincts) such as the sexual, anger, fear, tender feeling, hunger,

self-abasement, self-assertion, curiosity, etc., this is seen to be an

obvious biological truth.[228] Fear is suppressed by anger, tender

feeling, or curiosity (wonder), and _vice versa_; hunger and the sexual

instinct by disgust.

What is true of the primitive instincts and their primary emotions is

also true of compound instincts (emotions) and of sentiments, i.e.,

ideas about which one or several emotions are systematized. We may,

therefore, for brevity’s sake, speak of a conflict of ideas or

sentiments or emotions or instincts indiscriminately. In other words,

_any affective state may be suppressed by conflict with another and

stronger affective state_. A timid mother, impelled by the parental

instinct, has no fear of danger to herself when her child is threatened.

The instinct of pugnacity (anger) in this case not being antagonistic

(in conflict) is not only not suppressed but may be awakened as a

reaction to aid in the expression of the parental instinct. _Per

contra_, when anger would conflict with this instinct, as when the child

does wrong, the anger is suppressed by the parental instinct.

Conversely, the sentiment of love for a particular person may be

completely suppressed by jealousy and anger. Hatred of a person may

expel from consciousness previous sentiments of sympathy, justice, pity,

respect, fear, etc. The animal under the influence of the parental

instinct may be incapable of fear in defense of its young, particularly

if anger is excited. Fear may be suppressed in an animal or human being

if either is impelled by great curiosity over a strange object. Instead

of taking to flight, the animal may stand still in wonder. Similarly in

man, curiosity to examine, for example, an explosive—an unexploded shell

or bomb—inhibits the fear of danger often, as we know, with disastrous

results. The suppression of the sexual instinct by conflict is one of

the most notorious of the experiences of this kind in everyday life.

This instinct cannot be excited during an attack of fear and anger, and

even during moments of its excitation, if there is an invasion of

another strong emotion the sexual instinct at once is repressed. Under

these conditions, as with other instincts, even habitual excitants can

no longer initiate the instinctive process. Chloe would appeal in vain

to her lover if he were suddenly seized with fright or she had

inadvertently awakened in him an intense jealousy or anger. Similarly

the instinct may be suppressed, particularly in men, as every

psycho-pathologist has observed, by the awakening of the instinct of

self-subjection with its emotion of self-abasement (McDougall) with

fear, shown in the sentiments of incapacity, shame, etc. The authors of

“_Vous n’avez rien à declarer_” makes this the principal theme in this

laughable drama. Indeed the principle of the suppression of one instinct

by conflict with another has been made use of by writers of fiction and

drama in all times.

This principle of inhibition by conflict allows us to understand the

imperative persistence (if not the genesis) of certain sexual

perversions in otherwise healthy-minded and normal people who have a

loathing for such perversions in other people but can not overcome them

in themselves. H. O., for example, has such a perversion, and yet the

idea of this perversion in another person excites a lively emotion of

disgust. In other words, at bottom, as we say, she is right-minded. How

then account for the continuance of a self practice which she reprobates

in another, censures in herself, and desires to be free of, and why does

not the instinct of repulsion, and the sentiment of self respect, etc.,

act in herself as a safeguard? Introspective examination shows that when

the sexual emotion is awakened, disgust and the sentiments of pride and

self respect are suppressed, and the momentarily activating instinct

determines all sorts of sophistical reasoning by which the perversion is

justified to herself. As soon as the instinct accomplishes its aim it

becomes exhausted, and at once intense disgust, meeting with no

opposition, becomes awakened and in turn determines once more her

right-minded ideas. Based upon this mechanism one therapeutic procedure

would be to organize artificially so intense sentiments of disgust for

the perversion and of self-respect that they would suppress the sexual

impulse.[229]

Likewise the intense religious emotions (awe, reverence, self-abasement,

divine love, etc.) may, if sufficiently strong, suppress the opposing

instincts of anger, fear, play, and self-assertion, and emotions

compounded of them. Examples might be cited from the lives of religious

martyrs and fanatics.

If it is true that “the instincts are the prime movers of all human

activity,” and that through their systematic organization with ideas

into sentiments they are so harnessed and brought under subjection that

they can be utilized for the well-being of the individual; and if

through this harnessing the immediate promptings of the emotions are

brought under volitional control, then _all conduct, in the last

analysis, is determined by the conative force of instincts_[230] (and

other innate dispositions) harnessed though they be to ideas. For though

volition itself can control, reinforce, and determine the particular

sentiment and thus govern conduct,—reinforce, for instance, a weaker

abstract moral sentiment so that it shall dominate any lower brutish

instinct or sentiment with which it conflicts, still, volition must be a

more complex form of conation and itself issue from sentiments.

We need not enter into this troublesome problem of the nature of the

will;[231] nor does it concern us. It is enough for our purpose to

recognize that volition can reinforce a sentiment and thus take part in

conflicts. In this way undesirable instincts and sentiments can he

voluntarily overcome and inhibited or repressed and mental processes and

conduct determined.

Nor are we concerned here with conduct which pertains more properly to

social psychology. Our task is much more limited and simple, namely to

inquire into the immediate conscious phenomena provoked by emotion, just

as we have studied the physiological phenomena. We have seen that one

such phenomenon is inhibition or repression of antagonistic instincts

and sentiments provoked by conflict. (We shall see later that a conflict

may arise between a conscious and an entirely subconscious sentiment

with similar resulting phenomena.)

=Repression of individual instincts may be lasting.=—The repressions

resulting from conflict which we have just been considering have been of

a temporary nature lasting only just so long as the conflict has lasted.

It is instructive to note that just as an instinct can be cultivated

until it becomes a ruling trait in the character, so it can be

permanently repressed, or so intensely repressed that it cannot be

awakened excepting by unusual excitants or under unusual conditions.

Such a persisting repression may be brought about either directly by

volitional conflict or indirectly through the cultivation of

antagonistic sentiments. The cultivation of an instinct is a common

enough observation. Every one can point to some one of his acquaintance

who has so fostered his instinct of anger or fear, has so cultivated the

habit of one or the other reaction that he has become the slave of his

emotion. Conversely, by the conative force of the will, and still more

successfully by the cultivation of appropriate moral and religious and

other sentiments, and complexes or “settings” systematized about those

sentiments, a person can inhibit any instinct or any sentiment organized

with that instinct. A bad-tempered person can thus, if he chooses,

become good-tempered; a coward, a brave person; a person governed by the

instinct of self-subjection can repress it by the cultivation of

sentiments of self-assertion, and so on. The complete repression of

unchristian instincts and sentiments is the acquired characteristic of

the saintly character. The cultivation and repression of character

traits and tendencies along these lines obviously belong to the domains

of the psychology of character, social psychology, and criminology. But

the persisting repression of at least one instinct—the sexual

instinct—may take on pathological significance[232] while that of

sentiments may lead to pathological dissociation and to the _formation

of disturbing subconscious states_. To this latter type of repression we

shall presently return.

That the sexual instinct may be involuntarily and persistently repressed

by conflict is shown by the following case:

F. S. presented herself at the hospital clinic because of hysterical

epileptiform attacks of six months’ duration. The attacks, which had

been caused by an emotional trauma, were easily cured by suggestion.

After recovery she fell into lamentations over the fact that she was

sterile owing to both ovaries having been removed three years before

because of pelvic disease. Just before the operation she had also

suffered from an emotional trauma (fear). Although complete recovery

from her symptoms had followed the operation, the sexual instinct had

been abolished for three years. She was now much distressed over her

inability to have children, complaining it had led to domestic

infelicity, and apprehending divorce which had been threatened on the

ground of her sterility. Having confidence in the strength of certain

fundamental principles of human nature, and disbelieving the reasons

alleged by the husband for divorce, I was able to restore domestic

felicity, as well as demonstrate the psycho-physiological principle that

the instinct was not lost but only inhibited. A single suggestion in

hypnosis, psychologically constructed so as to bear a strong conative

impulse that would overcome any other conflicting affective impulses and

carry itself to fruition, restored not only the lost function[233] but

conjugal happiness. That the instinct had only been inhibited is

obvious. Whether the repressing factor had been fear or an involuntary

auto-suggestion was not determined.

The following case is instructive not only because of the lasting

dissociation of this instinct as a result of a conflict, but because the

dissociation was volitionally and intentionally effected as a revenge.

Other interesting features are the transference of the repressing

revenge affect to an object (clothes which became an amulet or fetish to

protect from sexual approaches, and the building of a complex (“raw

oyster”) which became the bearer of the repressing force. X. Y. Z.

received a deep wound to her pride on the first night of her honeymoon

when her husband forgot his bride of a few hours who was awaiting him in

the nuptial chamber. Happening to meet in the hotel some political

acquaintances after the bride had retired, he became absorbed in a

political discussion and—forgot! When he appeared after a prolonged

absence and presented his excuses she was hurt in her pride and offended

to think that she was of so little importance to him that he could

become interested in talking politics.[234] There was anger too, and she

vowed to herself to show, or, to use her own words, she “would be hanged

if” she would show that she had any liking for or any interest in the

marital intimacy. (She had never hitherto experienced any sexual

feelings and, like most young girls, was entirely ignorant of the

physical side. Nevertheless, from what she had been told, she had

idealized the spiritual union of husband and wife and anticipated

pleasurable experiences.) So purposely she repressed any interest, made

herself absolutely indifferent to her spouse’s amorous attentions and

experienced absolutely no sexual feeling; and so it continued for some

days. In view of what later happened, and what we know of conflicts, we

must believe that the impulses which carried her volition to fruition

came from the emotions of anger, pride, and revenge.

Then one afternoon, just after she had finished dressing herself

preparatory to going out, her husband came into her room and made

advances to her. The idea appealed to her and she became emotionally

excited at the thought. But in the middle of the act when the libido

began to be aroused, suddenly she remembered that she had been snubbed

at the first and that her rôle was to show no liking or interest. There

were reawakened the emotions of pride, anger, and revenge, although not

malicious revenge. Impelled by these emotions she actually gave herself

suggestions to effect her purpose—a determination to get square with the

past. She said to herself, “I must not like it; I must put it away back

in my mind, I must become flabby as an oyster.” Thereupon she became

“perfectly limp and uninterested and the feelings of flabbiness came

over” her, and the beginning sexual feeling subsided at once. (That day

she had eaten some raw oysters and had been impressed by them as the

essence of flabbiness.) She admitted having continued during succeeding

years to cherish this revengeful feeling as to the sexual relation—to

get square with the past. She defended it, however, (although admitting

the childishness of the original episode) on the ground that the slight

to her pride must be viewed in connection with a long series of

antecedent experiences. These must therefore be viewed as the setting

which gave meaning to her idea of sexual relations with her husband.

After this at the sexual approach under conventional marital conditions

she for a time always volitionally induced this flabby “raw-oyster”

sensation and feeling. Later it would automatically arise at the first

indication or suggestion of the approach and counteract the libido. It

was now no longer necessary to be on guard, knowing she could not be

taken unawares. The consequence has been that the patient has never

consciously experienced any sexual feeling beyond those first beginnings

at the time of the experience when she was fully dressed. The patient

can produce the “raw-oyster” state at will and exhibited it voluntarily

during the examination. The state as then observed was one of lethargy

or extreme relaxation. There was no general anæsthesia; pinching and

pricking was felt perfectly, but, as she remarked, they carried no

sensation of discomfort. “I do not care at the moment,” she explained,

“what any one does to me; no sensation would cause pleasure or

discomfort.” To arouse the state she thinks of the sexual approach

first, and then the state comes. The sexual instinct has never been

aroused by reading, or associative ideas of any kind. “It does not

exist,” to quote her words.

Clothes became an amulet of protection in the following way: Ever since

that afternoon when she was taken unawares in her clothes (and “almost

liked it”) she realized and feared that sexual approaches when she was

fully clothed might arouse the sexual instinct. Consequently she was

more on her guard when fully clothed than at night for fear of being

taken unawares. The idea that she must be on her guard when clothed

became fixed, and, at first, when in this condition, she was always on

her guard ready to defend herself by _pugnacity_. Then any approach at

such times, if accompanied by physical contact, awakened an instinctive

reaction which became a defense; it aroused the instincts of fear and

anger. Any affectionate demonstration suggestive of the approach on the

part of her husband would arouse these defensive instincts. On the other

hand, when half dressed there has been no such ebullition of emotion;

she has in consequence always believed that having clothes on would

protect her against admirers. Indeed, as a fact, this is so, for any

show of affection from any one manifested by a touch, even the friendly

pat of the hand, will cause an unnecessary and unreasonable outburst of

uncontrollable anger, such as to astonish and startle the offender.

Clothes, becoming thus a sentiment in which the instincts of flight and

pugnacity are incorporated, have also become a protection in

themselves—an amulet to ward off danger.

What reason, it may be asked, is there for believing that the sexual

instinct really exists in this case, and is only repressed or

dissociated? I may not state all the reasons; it is sufficient to say

that the evidence is to be found in dreams. The large number of sexual

dreams which the subject has experienced, many of them accompanied by

realistic sexual manifestations and not symbolic only, leave no doubt of

this fact.[235]

_Conflicts with subconscious sentiments._ Thus far we have been

considering conflicts between sentiments and emotional processes which

have been in the full light of consciousness. But in previous lectures

we have seen that ideas with strong emotional tones may be dissociated

and function below the threshold of consciousness as coconscious

processes. It is theoretically possible, therefore, that conflicts

might arise between a dissociated coconscious sentiment and one that

is antagonistic to it in consciousness. To appreciate this theoretical

condition let me point out that there is one important _difference

between the ultimate consequences of the repression of an instinct and

of a sentiment_. If an instinct is repressed (it being only an innate

disposition) it ceases to be an active factor in the functioning

organism. It is inhibited. A stimulus that ordinarily suffices to

excite it fails to do so, and it may respond only to an

extraordinarily powerful stimulus, or perhaps none will awaken it.

Thus abstinence from food fails to awaken a sense of hunger in a

person who has lost this instinct for any reason, even though

appetizing food be placed before him.[236] Similarly anger, or fear,

or tender emotion, or self-assertion, or disgust, in certain persons

cannot be awakened excepting by very unusual stimuli. In other words,

the psycho-physiological reflex is completely or relatively in

abeyance just as much so as is an organic reflex (e. g., the

knee-jerk) which has been inhibited. Normally, of course, it is rare

for an instinct to be absolutely inhibited excepting temporarily, as

has been explained, during a conflict with another instinct. In

certain pathological conditions (e. g., dissociated personality),

almost any instinct may be persistently inhibited. In normal

conditions there is, however, one exception, namely the sexual

instinct, which, as we have seen from instances cited, may be

inhibited during long periods of time. In women this inhibition is

common and is effected, as I believe, by the subtle and insensible

influence of the environment of the child and by social education, in

other words, by the social taboo. Wherever inhibition occurs

observation would seem to show that the psycho-physiological function

has ceased to take part in the functioning organism.

With sentiments, however, the case stands differently. A sentiment,

being an idea about which a system of emotional dispositions has been

organized, when repressed by conflict, or when simply out of mind,

whether capable of reproduction as memory or not, may, like all ideas,

still be conserved, as we have seen, as an unconscious neurogram. As we

have also seen, so long as it is conserved it is still a part of the

personality. Even though repressed it is not necessarily absolutely

inhibited but may be simply dissociated and then be _able to take on

dissociated subconscious activity_. As a subconscious process the idea

continues still organized with its emotional dispositions, and the

conative forces of these, under certain conditions, may continue

striving to give expression to the idea. We have already become familiar

with one phenomenon of this striving, namely, the emerging into

consciousness of the emotional element of the sentiment while the idea

remains subconscious, thus producing an unaccountable fear or joy,

feelings of pleasure or pain, etc. (p. 381).

1. This being so, it having been determined that _under certain

conditions_ any conserved experience may become activated as a

dissociated subconscious process, it is _theoretically_ quite possible

that the impulses of an activated subconscious sentiment might come into

conflict with the impulses of a conscious process—the two being

antagonistic. The resulting phenomena might be the same as when both

factors to the contest are in consciousness. In such a conflict if the

impulsive force of the subconscious sentiment is the stronger the

conscious ideas, sentiments, and feelings—in short, the conscious

process—would be repressed, and _vice versa_. Or if the subconscious

sentiment got the worst of the conflict and could not repress the

conscious process, the former, being dissociated and an independent

“automatic” process, might theoretically induce various other phenomena

in the effort to fulfil its aim. If it could not directly overcome the

impulses of the conscious process it might circumvent the latter by

inducing mental and physiological disturbances which would indirectly

prevent the conscious impulses from fulfilling their aim; e. g.,

inhibition of the will, dissociation or total inhibition of

consciousness, amnesia for particular memories, motor phenomena

interfering with normal activity, etc. The subconscious sentiment

engaging in such a conflict could be excited to activity by any

associative antagonistic idea in consciousness. It should be noted that

the subject being entirely unaware of the subconscious process would not

know the cause of the resulting phenomena.

2. Now, in fact, _such hypothetical conflicts and phenomena are actually

observed_ in very neat and precise form _under experimental conditions_,

particularly in pathological or quasi-pathological subjects. These

conditions are particularly instructive as they allow us to clearly

recognize the subconscious character of the conflicting process and

detect the exact sentiment concerned therein.

The following experiment illustrative of such a conflict between a

conscious and subconscious process I have repeated many times in one

subject with the same resulting phenomenon. It has been demonstrated on

several occasions to psychologists and others. On the first occasion

when the phenomenon was observed it was entirely spontaneous and

unexpected as also has since been frequently the case.

B. C. A. in one phase of alternating personality (B) was asked to

mention a certain complex of ideas which was known to have been

organized about a distressing “sentiment” in another phase (C) causing

considerable unhappiness. This sentiment included a strong emotion of

pride in consequence of which she had in the C phase intense objections

to revealing these ideas. As she herself said, she “would have gone to

the stake first.” Phase B has no such sentiment, but on the contrary the

ideas in question were only amusing to her.[237] In phase B, therefore,

she not only had no objection to revealing the sentiment distressing to

C but desired for therapeutic reasons to do so. In accordance with this

difference of sentiments the difference in the attitude of mind in the

two phases toward the same experience was quite striking. The impulse in

the one was to conceal the experiences and sentiment, in the other to

divulge them.

Now, in reply to an interrogatory as to what was distressing in the C

phase, B begins to mention the sentiment. At once, and to her

astonishment, her lips and tongue are tied by painful spasms involving,

also, the throat muscles. She becomes dumb, unable to overcome the

resistance. She struggles in vain to speak. When she gives up the

struggle to pronounce the forbidden words she speaks with ease on other

subjects saying “something prevented me from speaking.” Each time that

she endeavors to turn State’s evidence and to peach on herself, the same

struggle is repeated. When she persists in her effort, using all her

will-power, the effect of the conflicting force extends to

consciousness. Her thoughts become first confused, then obliterated, and

she falls back in her seat limp, paralyzed, and apparently unconscious.

The thoughts to which she strove to give expression have disappeared.

She now cannot even will to speak.

But she is not really unconscious, it is only another phase; there is

only a dissociation or inhibition of the consciousness comprising the

system of ideas making up the B phase and an awakening of another

restricted system. When automatic writing is tried, it is found that a

limited field of consciousness is present in which are to be found the

ideas which opposed the resistance. A precise statement of the opposing

factors (volition) which offered the resistance and brought about the

conflict, the spasm of the vocal apparatus, and finally inhibition or

dissociation of consciousness, is obtained from this dissociated

restricted field.[238]

This phenomenon carries its own interpretation on its face and cannot be

doubted. Certain sentiments, for the moment dormant and outside the

focus of awareness of the subject, are “struck” or stimulated by

memories within that focus. The conative force of the conscious wishes

to which the subject seeks to give expression meets with the resistance

of a similar and more powerful force from the previously dormant

sentiment. The latter carries itself to fulfilment and _controls the

vocal apparatus at first, and then, finding itself likely to be overcome

by the will-power of the personality, annihilates the latter by the

inhibition and dissociation of consciousness_.

Various forms of the same phenomenon of conflict with subconscious

processes I have experimentally demonstrated in Miss B. and O. N.

Spontaneous manifestations of the same have also been frequently

observed in all three subjects. In the published account of Miss B.[239]

numerous examples are given. I will merely refer to the attacks of

aboulia, the dissociations of consciousness and inhibition of thought,

and of speech resulting in stuttering and dumbness, the inhibition of

motor activity, the induction of systematized anesthesia and alexia,

etc. In the prolonged study of the case I was the witness, I was going

to say, of innumerable exhibitions of such manifestations, and the book

is replete with examples of conflicts between opposing mental processes.

B. C. A. in her account, “My Life as a Dissociated Personality,”[240]

has described similar spontaneous phenomena. It is worth noting in this

connection that the commonplace phenomena of systematized anesthesia

(negative hallucinations) may be induced by conflict with a subconscious

process motivated by strong emotion. Thus Miss B. in one of her phases

could not see the writing on a sheet of paper which appeared blank to

her; on another occasion she could not see the printing of the pages of

a French novel which she therefore took to be a blank book, nor could

she see a bookcase containing French books.[241] The subconscious

conflicting ideas were motivated by anger in the one case and jealousy

in the other. That the conflicting ideas in this case were elements

synthesized in a large dissociated system or subconscious self in no way

affects the principle, which is that of conflict between processes. The

conflicting process in such conditions is a more complex one, that is

all. Undoubtedly the systematized anesthesia, so easily induced by

hypnotic suggestion and which has been made the subject of much study,

may be explained on the same principle, although the affective elements

are not so obtrusive. The conflict is between the personal volition of

the subject to see the marked playing-card, if that is the test object

used in the experiment, and the suggested idea not to see it. The latter

wins if the experiment is successful and inhibits the perception of the

card—i. e., dissociates it from the focus of awareness. (The emotional

tones involved are obscure; possibly they are curiosity on the one hand

vs. self-subjection on the other.)

The _unconscious resistance to suggestion_ is probably of the same

nature. Every one knows that it is difficult to hypnotize a person who

resists the suggestion. This resistance may come from a counter

auto-suggestion which may be entirely involuntary, perhaps a conviction

on the part of the subject that she cannot be hypnotized, or an

unwillingness to be—i.e., desire not to be hypnotized or fear. The same

is true of waking a person from hypnosis. In other words, an

antagonistic preparedness of the mind blocks involuntarily the

suggestion. A very pretty illustration is the following: H. O.

discovered that she could easily and rapidly hypnotize herself by simply

passing her own fingers over her eyelids, but she could not wake herself

out of hypnosis. She then discovered that, if she first gave herself the

suggestion that she would wake when she desired, she could quickly do

so. Likewise, if she suggested to herself that she could not hypnotize

herself the customary procedure was without effect. Though this

observation is a common phenomenon the rapidity and ease with which the

phenomenon was demonstrated were as striking as it was amusing to watch

her struggle to awake when the preparatory anticipatory autosuggestion

had not been given.

In O. N. _more complicated phenomena_ induced by conflicts with

subconscious complexes have been equally precise and striking. In this

subject I find, as the result of repeated observations, that, in order

that a suggestion, that is antagonistic to a preexisting attitude of

mind possessing a strong feeling tone, shall not be resisted in

hypnosis, it must be first formally accepted by the personality _before_

hypnosis is induced. If this viewpoint is not preformed, after hypnosis

is induced the blocking attitude cannot be altered. Practically this

means that the subject shall _bring into consciousness and disclose

ideas_ with which the intended suggestion will conflict and shall modify

them voluntarily. This she does by first candidly accepting a new point

of view, and then, secondly, by a technical procedure of her own,

namely, by preparing her mind not to resist in hypnosis. This procedure,

briefly stated and simplified, is as follows: she first says to herself,

“I will ‘take out’ that [resisting] idea.” Then she arranges in her

thoughts the ideas of acceptance which she will substitute. Then she

puts herself into a state of abstraction (hypnosis) and _suggests to

herself_ that the resisting idea _is_ taken out and that my intended

suggestion shall be her viewpoint. Even then, sometimes, when the

resisting idea is one harking back to a long past period of life and

belonging to a pathologically organized “mood,” known as the “b mood” or

state, the acceptance of the suggestion may be ineffectual. Under these

circumstances and _when the hypnotic dissociation is carried too far_,

so that the hypnotic state is reduced to the “b mood,” the previously

auto-suggested acceptance of the idea by the patient is thereby

ostracized from the hypnotic field and is unable to play its part and

have effect. So much by way of explanation. Now when the precaution has

not been taken to see that any resisting idea has been “taken out” and

when the intended suggestion has not been accepted, one of the following

phenomena is observed: (1) the hypnotic personality when the suggestion

is given becomes “automatically” and unconsciously restless, endeavors,

_without knowing why_, to avoid listening, and to push me away, shifting

her attitude and struggling to withdraw herself from contact or

proximity—all the time the face expressing hostility and disapproval in

its features; or (2) complete obnubilation of consciousness supervenes

so that the suggestions are not heard; or (3) the subject suddenly wakes

up. The last frequently happens as often as the suggestion is repeated;

and yet in hypnosis (and also, of course, when awake), the subject is

unaware of what causes the resistance and the resulting phenomena. But

if now the subject is warned of what has occurred and accepts the

suggestion by the procedure mentioned (unless the “b mood” I have

mentioned recurs), the resistance and other phenomena at once cease and

the suggestion takes effect. Thus in this case the conflicting ideas can

always be precisely determined and the conditions of the experiment

arranged at will and the results controlled. It is obvious that all

three phenomena are different modes by which the subconscious idea

resists the suggested idea and accomplishes its aim.

3. _In entire accordance with the experimental results are certain

pathological disturbances_ which from time to time interrupt the course

of everyday life of this subject, O. N. These disturbances consist of

one or more of the following: a dissociative state in which the

pathological “b mood” is dominant; a lethargic state; twilight state;

complete repression of certain normal sentiments and instincts; complete

alteration of previously established points of view; morbid

self-reproach; nervousness, restlessness, agitation; anger at

opposition; indecision of thought, etc. Now, whenever such phenomena

recur, with practical certainty, they can always be traced by the use of

technical methods to a conflict with a turbulent sentiment (in which

strong emotional tones are incorporated) previously lying dormant in the

unconscious. Sometimes the turbulent sentiment can be definitely traced

to childhood’s experiences. Very often it has been intentionally formed

and put into her mind by the subject herself for the very purpose of

inducing the repression of other sentiments, to which for one reason or

another for the time being she objects, and of changing her habitual

point of view. Her method of artificially accomplishing this result is

exceedingly instructive. It is similar to the auto-suggestive process I

have described in connection with the hypnotic experiments. Having first

prearranged her psychological plan, she proceeds to put herself into

abstraction and to “take out”, as she calls it, her previous sentiment

(or instinct) and substitute an antagonistic sentiment. When she comes

to herself out of abstraction, the previously objected to sentiment has

completely vanished. If it is one concerning a person or mode of life,

she becomes completely indifferent to that person or mode of life as if

previously no sentiment had existed. If an intimate friend, he becomes

only an acquaintance toward whom she has entirely new feelings

corresponding to the new sentiment; if a physician, nothing that he says

has influence with her, her new feeling, we will say, being that of

resentment; if a mode of life, she has lost all interest in that mode

and is governed by an interest in a new mode. Even physiological bodily

instincts have been in this way suppressed. She has indulged this

psychological habit for years. Again and again when she has exhibited

these, and still other, phenomena, I have been able to discover their

origin in this auto-suggestive procedure.

Some of the other phenomena I have just mentioned are more likely

to be traced to _autochthonous conflicts between everyday

ideas_—dissatisfactions with actual conditions of life, and wishes

for other conditions, unwillingness to forego the fulfilment of

certain wishes and accept the necessary conditions as they exist,

etc. The natural consequence is restlessness, agitation, anger,

indecision, etc. The dissociation of personality, with the

outcropping of the “b mood,” follows—a conflict due to the

excitation of certain childhood complexes, conserved in the

unconscious and embracing sentiments in which are incorporated the

instinct of self-subjection or abasement. This “b mood” is a study

in itself. The self-reproaches are, I believe, also traceable to

this instinct.

_Conflicts may even occur between two processes, both of which are

subconscious_ and therefore outside of the awareness of the subject.

Thus, in B. C. A. I have frequently observed the following: while the

right hand has been engaged in automatic writing, the left hand,

motivated by a subconscious sentiment antagonistic to the subconscious

ideas performing the writing, has seized the pencil, broken it, or

thrown it across the room. The two conflicting systems of thought, each

with its own sentiments and wishes, have been made to disclose

themselves and exhibit their antitheses and antipathies.

The principle of emotional conflict and the phenomena we have outlined

enable us to understand the mechanism of prolonged reaction time and

blocking of thought observed in the so-called “word association tests.”

These tests involve too large a subject for us to enter upon them here.

Let it suffice to say that when a test word strikes an emotional complex

the response of the subject by an associated word may be delayed or

completely blocked. The emotional impulse which inhibits the response

may come from an awakened conscious or subconscious memory.

=The psychogalvanic reaction as physical evidence of actual subconscious

emotional discharge.=—This reaction may be also used to demonstrate that

subconscious processes may actually give forth emotional impulses

without the ideas of those processes entering the personal

consciousness.

1. I may be permitted to cite here some experiments,[242] which I made

with Dr. Frederick Peterson, as they leave the minimum of latitude for

interpretation and come as close as possible to the demonstration of

emotional discharges from processes entirely outside of awareness. Such

a demonstration is important for the theory of subconscious conflicts.

The experiments were undertaken in a case of multiple personality (B. C.

A.) with a view to obtaining the galvanic phenomenon from coconscious

states. This case offered an exceptional opportunity to determine

whether the galvanic reaction could be obtained in one personality from

the dissociated complexes _deposited by the experiences of the second

alternating personality for which there was complete amnesia on the part

of the first_. These dissociated experiences, of course, had never

entered the awareness of the personality tested, who, therefore,

necessarily could not possibly recall them to memory. With the

information furnished by the second personality, it was easy to arrange

test words associated with the emotional ideas of the experiences

belonging to this personality and unknown to the one tested.

Similarly it was possible to test whether galvanic reaction could be

obtained from complexes—from subconscious complexes—the residua of

forgotten dreams, as in this case the dreams were not remembered on

waking. An account of the dreams could be obtained in hypnosis. The

dreams were therefore simply dissociated.

Again we could test the possibility of obtaining reactions from

subconscious perceptions and thoughts which had never arisen into

awareness. The required information concerning these perceptions and

thoughts could be obtained in this case in hypnosis.

Now we found that test words which expressed the emotional ideas

belonging to a forgotten dream gave, in spite of the amnesia, very

marked rises in the galvanic curve. The same was true of the test words

referring to dissociated experiences belonging to the _alternating_

personality for which the tested personality had amnesia, and of the

subconscious perceptions. For instance (as an example of the latter),

the word _lorgnette_, referring to a subconscious perception of a

stranger unnoticed by the conscious personality, gave a very lively

reaction.

Further, pin pricks, which could not be consciously perceived owing to

the _anesthesia_ of the skin, gave strong reactions.

Now here in the first two sets of observations were emotional effects

apparently obtained from what were very precise complexes which were

definitely underlying, in that they never had been experienced by the

personality tested and therefore could not come from memories, or from

associations of which this personality was aware. They could only come

from the residua of a personality which had experienced them and which

was now “underlying.” That these experiences had been conserved is shown

by the recovery of them in a hypnotic state, and by their being

remembered by the secondary personality. Even the pin pricks, which were

not felt on account of the anesthesia, gave reactions. It could be

logically inferred, therefore, that the galvanic reaction was due to the

activity of subconscious complexes, using the term in the narrow and

restricted sense of conserved residua without conscious equivalents. But

the conditions were more complicated than I have described. There was in

this case a veritable coconscious personality, a split-off,

well-organized system of conscious states synthesized into a personal

consciousness—two foci of self-consciousness. Now the coconscious

personality with its large system of thoughts had full memory of all

these amnesic experiences; it remembered the dreams and the experiences

of the second personality, and perceived the pin pricks. Hence we

concluded that the galvanic phenomena were obtained from the memory and

perceptions of this coconscious personality.

This demonstration of an actual physical discharge is proof positive

that an emotional process can function subconsciously. This being so,

_it only needs this discharge to come into conflict with some other

process, conscious or subconscious, for one or other phenomenon of

conflict to be manifested_.

2. This psycho-galvanic phenomenon may be correlated with those

phenomena which we have already studied (p. 381) wherein the emotional

element of the process alone rises into consciousness. The former

phenomenon is therefore the manifestation of the efferent and the latter

of the central part of the activated emotional disposition. The former

supports the interpretation of various clinical motor phenomena as being

the efferent manifestations of purely subconscious emotional processes.

I refer to hysterical tics, spasms, contractures, etc. The latter

phenomenon we have had frequent occasion to refer to. You will remember,

for instance, that in the case of Miss B. on numerous occasions it was

observed that emotion, particularly of fear, swept over the conscious

personality without apparent cause. This emotion could be traced to

specific dissociated and coconscious ideas. Likewise in B. C. A., states

of anxiety or depression could be related to specific coconscious ideas

which, having been shunted out of the field of consciousness, continued

their activity in a coconscious state. Janet, as might be expected of so

accurate an observer, long ago described the same phenomenon—the

invasion of the personal consciousness by the emotion belonging to a

coconscious idea. “Isabella,” he writes, “presents constantly conditions

which have the same character; we shall cite but one other in the

interest of the study of dementia. For a week or so she has been gloomy

and sad; she hides and will not speak to anyone. We have trouble in

getting a few words from her, and these she says very low, casting her

eyes down: ‘I am not worthy to speak with other people.... I am very

much ashamed, I have a crushing load on my mind like a terrible gnawing

remorse....’—‘A remorse about what?’—‘Ah! that’s just it. I am trying to

find it out day and night. What is it that I could have done last week?

for before I was not thus. Tell me candidly, did I do something very bad

last week?’ This time, as will be seen, the question is no longer about

an act, but about a feeling, a general emotional state which she

interprets as remorse; she is equally incapable of understanding and

expressing the fixed idea which determines this feeling. If you divert

the subject’s attention, you can obtain the automatic writing, and you

will see that the hand of the patient constantly writes the same name,

that of Isabella’s sister who died a short time ago. During the attacks

and the somnambulic sleep we establish a very complicated dream in which

this poor young girl thinks she murdered her sister. That is quite a

common delirium, you will say; perhaps so, but for a hysteric it

presents itself in a rather curious manner. She suffers only from its

rebound, experiences only the emotional side of it; of the delirium

itself she is wholly ignorant; the latter remains subconscious.”...

“It will be seen by this last example that, in some cases, a small

portion of the fixed idea may be conscious. Isabella feels that she is

troubled by some remorse, she knows not what. It thus frequently happens

that hystericals, during their normal waking time, complain of a certain

mental attitude, so much so that they partly look as if obsessed.

Celestine experiences thus feelings of anger which she cannot

explain.”[243]

As might be expected intense conflicts may have wide-reaching

consequences and lead to the development of pathological conditions.

Indeed, in the latter we find the most clear-cut exemplars of repression

(dissociation) and other phenomena produced by conflict. I shall point

out in later lectures[244] how in a specific case intense religious

sentiments completely repressed their antagonistic instincts and

eventuated in dissociation of (multiple) personality (Miss B.) Likewise

with B. C. A., as I interpret the phenomena, the dissociation of

personality resulted from a conflict between wishes that could not be

fulfilled and sentiments of duty, respect, etc. We shall see later the

significance of this principle for the understanding of other

pathological states.

-----

Footnote 220:

... “Every instinctive process has the three aspects of all mental

processes, the cognitive, the affective, and the conative. Now, the

innate psychophysical disposition, which is an instinct, may be

regarded as consisting of three corresponding parts, an afferent, a

central, and a motor or efferent part, whose activities are the

cognitive, the affective, and the conative features respectively of

the total instinctive process. The afferent or receptive part of the

total disposition is some organized group of nervous elements or

neurones that is specially adapted to receive and to elaborate the

impulses initiated in the sense-organ by the native object of the

instinct; its constitution and activities determine the sensory

content of the psychophysical process. From the afferent part the

excitement spreads over to the central part of the disposition; the

constitution of this part determines in the main the distribution of

the nervous impulses, especially the impulses that descend to modify

the working of the visceral organs, the heart, lungs, blood vessels,

glands, etc., in the manner required for the most effective excitation

of the instinctive action; the nervous activities of this central part

are the correlates of the affective or emotional aspect or feature of

the total physical process. The excitement of the efferent or motor

part reaches it by the way of the central part; its construction

determines the distribution of impulses to the muscles of the skeletal

system by which the instinctive action is effected, and its nervous

activities are the correlates of the conative element of the physical

process, of the felt impulse to action.” William McDougall. An

introduction to Social Psychology, p. 32.

Footnote 221:

Social Psychology, p. 44.

Footnote 222:

Ibid, p. 159.

Footnote 223:

Not included in this volume.

Footnote 224:

Personally communicated.

Footnote 225:

This theory of the part played by the sensory accompaniments of

visceral activity I would suggest as a substitute for the James-Lange

theory.

Footnote 226:

Hilton: Rest and Pain.

Footnote 227:

Note analogues in Sherrington’s mechanism of the spinal reflexes.

Footnote 228:

I follow in the main McDougall’s classification as sufficiently

adequate and accurate for our purposes.

Footnote 229:

In fact, this was successfully done.

Footnote 230:

For purposes of simplification I leave aside feelings of pleasure and

pain, excitement and depression, for though their main functions may

be only to guide or shape the actions prompted by the instincts, as

McDougall affirms, still I think there is sound reason to believe that

feelings also have conative force and are coöperative impulsive

factors.

Footnote 231:

McDougall has proposed the ingenious theory that that which we

understand, properly speaking, by “will” is a complex form of conation

issuing from a particular sentiment, viz., the complexly organized

sentiment of self (“self-regarding sentiment”). The behavior

immediately determined by the primitive instincts and other sentiments

cannot be classed as volition, but should be regarded as simple

instinctive conation. When, therefore, the will reinforces a sentiment

and determines conduct it is the self-regarding sentiment which

provides the “volitional” impulse and is the controlling factor. If

this theory should stand it would give a satisfactory solution of this

difficult question. Perhaps it receives some support on the part of

abnormal psychology in that certain observations seem to show, if I

correctly interpret them, that self-consciousness is a complex capable

of being dissociated like any idea or sentiment. I shall presently

describe a quasi-pathological state which may be called

depersonalization. In this state the “conscious intelligence” present

is able to think and reason logically and sanely, is capable of good

judgments, and has an unusually large field of memory, in short, is a

very intelligent consciousness; nevertheless, it exhibits a very

strange phenomenon: it has lost all consciousness of self; it has no

sense of personality, of anything to which the term “I” can be

applied. This sentiment seems to be absolutely dissociated in this

state.

Footnote 232:

The repression of the sexual instinct and of sexual wishes plays the

dominant rôle in the Freudian psychology. If a wish may be correctly

defined psychologically as the impulsive force of a sentiment striving

toward an end plus the pleasurable feeling resulting from the imagined

attainment of that end, i.e., the imagined gratification of the

impulse, then the repression of a wish belongs to the phenomena of

repressed sentiments rather than of primitive instincts. This

distinction, I think, is of some importance, as will appear when we

consider subconscious sentiments.

Footnote 233:

In making use of suggestion for therapeutic purposes it is essential

to construct one with strong emotional tones and pleasurable and

exalting feelings for the purposes of increasing resistances to

contrary impulses, and carrying the suggestion to fruition. This I

believe to be one of the secrets of successful suggestive procedure.

The construction of an effective suggestion is an art in itself and

must be based on the psychological conditions existing in each case.

Footnote 234:

Of course this attitude is not to be viewed as an isolated event

standing all alone by itself. It must be read like nearly all events

of life in relation to a series of antecedent events. These, to her,

had denoted indifference, and now on this crucial occasion formed the

real setting and gave the offensive meaning to her spouse’s

forgetfulness.

Footnote 235:

Notwithstanding the frequency with which asexuality is met with in

women, I am strongly inclined to the opinion that the sexual instinct

in the sex is never really absent, excepting, of course, in late life

and in organic disease. No woman is born without it. When apparently

absent it is only inhibited or dissociated by the subtle influences of

the environment, education, conflicting sentiments, etc.

Footnote 236:

A distinction should be made between hunger and appetite. Food may

excite appetite, although hunger has been appeased.

Footnote 237:

Note that the same idea forms different sentiments in different phases

or moods, according to the emotions with which it is linked. In this

case, in phase C, it is linked with mortification, self-abasement,

possibly anger, pride, and feelings of pain and depression; in phase

B, with joyful emotions and feelings of pleasure and excitement. Also

note that the former sentiment, although out of mind at the time of

the observation, is conserved in the unconscious.

Footnote 238:

At first the subject (B) had no anticipation or supposition that such

a conflict would occur. Later she learned after repeated experiences

to anticipate the probable consequences of trying to tell

tales-out-of-school.

Footnote 239:

The Dissociation, see Index: “Subconscious ideas.”

Footnote 240:

_Journal of Abnormal Psychology_, October-November, 1908.

Footnote 241:

The Dissociation, p. 538.

Footnote 242:

_Journal Abn. Psychol._, June-July, 1908.

Footnote 243:

The Mental State of Hystericals, pp. 289-290.

Footnote 244:

Not included in this volume.

LECTURE XVI

GENERAL PHENOMENA RESULTING FROM EMOTIONAL CONFLICTS

The awakening of intense emotional impulses we have seen tends to

intensify certain activities and to inhibit other conflicting ones.

Further when that which is inhibited is a sentiment possessing an

intense emotion the sentiment tends to become dissociated[245] from the

personal consciousness and free to become by the force of its own

emotional dispositions a subconscious process. As a consequence of these

tendencies there may result a number of psycho-physiological conditions

of personality with some of which we should become familiar. They are

observable, as would be expected, in every-day life, and when highly

accentuated become pathological phenomena. Let us now consider some of

them in detail.

=Contraction of the field of consciousness and of personality.=—In

every-day life intense emotion excludes from the field of awareness

thoughts that are unrelated, antagonistic to and incompatible with the

ideas exciting the emotion, and perceptions of the environment that

ordinarily would enter awareness. The field of consciousness is thereby

contracted and limited to thoughts excited by or associated with the

emotion. Thus, for example, in the heat of anger the mind is dominated

by the particular object or thought which gave rise to the anger, or by

anger exciting associated ideas. Conflicting memories and correlated

knowledge that would modify the point of view and judgment and mollify

(inhibit) the anger are suppressed and cannot enter the focus of

attention. Further, a person in such a state may not perceive many

ocular, auditory, tactile, and other impressions coming from the

environment; he may not see the people about him, hear what is said, or

feel what is done to him, or only in an imperfect way. All these

sensations are either actually inhibited or prevented from entering

awareness (dissociated) by the conflicting conative force of the

emotion. In other words there is a dissociation (or inhibition) of

consciousness and consequent contraction of its field to certain

emotional ideas.

To take a concrete example, you are playing a game of cards and with

zest throw yourself into the game. Something happens to arouse your

anger. At once there is a conflict: The impulsive force of your

pugnacity instinct meets with the impulsive force of your play instinct

and its pleasure feelings. If the former is the stronger, the latter

with the ideas to which it is linked are inhibited, repressed, driven

out of consciousness. The pleasure of play ceases and its impulses no

longer determine your thoughts. Further, you forget the cards that have

been played though you knew them well a moment before, you may forget

your manners, become oblivious to social etiquette and the environment.

You can no longer reason on the play of the cards; you forget your card

knowledge. All these processes are inhibited, and consequently the field

of consciousness and personality becomes contracted.

On the other hand, the emotion of anger dominating the mind, ideas

associated with or which tend to carry your pugnacity instinct to

fruition, arise and direct and determine your conduct. Habit reactions

are likely to come automatically into play, and you break out into angry

denunciatory speech, if that is your habit. I leave you to fill out the

details of the picture for yourselves.

And yet, again through training in self-control, a self-regarding

sentiment conflicting with the anger impulse may be awakened, and the

latter in turn be dominated, repressed, inhibited.

In the case of an intense fear it is common observation that this

contraction may reach a high degree. In the excitement of a railroad

accident the frightened passenger does not feel the bruising and pain

which he otherwise would suffer, nor hear the shrieks of his fellow

passengers nor perceive but a small part of what is occurring about him,

but driven only by the intensely motivating idea of escape from danger

he struggles for safety. His field of consciousness is limited to the

few ideas of danger, escape, and the means of safety. All else is

dissociated by the conative force of the emotion and cannot enter the

focus of attention. He could not philosophize on the accident if he

would. In ordinary concentration of attention or absent-mindedness the

same phenomenon of contraction of the field of consciousness occurs

occasioned by interest; but with cessation of interest the field of

awareness quickly widens. So in contraction of this field from emotion

the normal is restored so soon as the emotion ceases.

When this same general contraction of the field of consciousness,

effected by the repressing force of emotion, reaches a certain acme we

have a pathological condition—the _hysterical state_. The field of

consciousness is now occupied by the single dissociating idea or complex

of ideas with its emotion that did the repressing—a condition of

mono-ideism. All other conscious processes are inhibited or dissociated.

When the complex is an intensely emotional one, its nervous energy, now

unbridled, is free to discharge itself in many directions, perhaps

producing convulsive phenomena of one kind or another.

To attribute these effects of emotion to repression _from conflict_ is

only to express the facts in different terms. But it would be often an

over-emphasis to describe what takes place as a specific conflict

between particular sentiments. It is often rather the discharge of a

blind impulsive force in every direction which, like a blast of

dynamite, suppresses or dissociates every other process which might come

into consciousness and displace it.

_Systematized dissociation._—Quite commonly the dissociated field, by

whatever force isolated, instead of being general may be systematized.

By this is meant that only certain perceptions, or groups or categories

of ideas that have been organized into a system, or have associative

relations, are prevented from entering the personal synthesis. In other

respects the conscious processes may be normal. The simplest type is

probably systematized anesthesia, exemplified in every-day life in

anyone who fails to perceive his eye-glasses, or any other object he is

in search of that is lying under his nose on the table before him; and

by the post-hypnotic phenomenon exhibited by the subject who fails to

perceive a _marked_ playing card or to hear or see a given person,

though he perceives all the other cards in the pack and everyone else in

the room; and by the hysteric who likewise fails to perceive certain

systematized sensations, such as the printing on a page which, itself,

therefore appears blank. That which is dissociated in these examples is

a comparatively very simple complex, but it may involve larger and

larger groups of remembrances, perceptions, sentiments (with their

emotions and feelings), settings, attitudes, instincts, and other innate

dispositions, etc., organized into a system about the sentiment of self.

Such groups and systems may, as we saw when studying the organization of

complexes (Lecture IX), be dissociated in that they cease to take part

in the functioning of the personality. The personality becomes thereby

contracted.