that the self-assertive motive should be harnessed into service. The
importance of this motive in securing action is seen in the strong
effect of competition to arouse great activity. The runner cannot make
as good speed when running "against time" as when competing directly,
neck to neck, with other runners. Hence, to get full action from
yourself, find worthy competitors. And for the same reason, accept
responsibility. This puts you on your mettle. To shun competition and
responsibility is characteristic of abulia. Other strong motives, such
as the economic motive or the sex motive (seen in the energetic work
of a young man whose goal is marriage to a certain young woman) can
also be enlisted in many cases. But, for the best results, there
should be, in addition to these extraneous motives, a genuine interest
in the work itself.
Do not say, "I will try". Say, "I will do it". The time for trying, or
effort, is when obstruction is actually encountered. You cannot really
try then, unless you are already fully determined to reach the goal.
Getting action from other people is the business of parents, teachers,
bosses, officers, and to some extent of every one who wishes to
influence another. In war, the problem of "morale" is as important as
the problem of equipment, and it was so recognized by all the armies
engaged in the Great War. Each side sought to keep the morale of its
own soldiers at a high level, and to depress the morale of the enemy.
Good morale means more than willingness for duty; it means "pep", or
positive zest for action. Some of the means used to promote morale
were the following. The soldier must believe in the justness of his
cause; that is, he must make victory his own goal, and be {544}
whole-hearted in this resolve. He must believe in the coming success
of his side. He must be brought to attach himself firmly to the social
group of which he forms a part. He must be so absorbed in the
activities of this group as to forget, in large measure, his own
private concerns. Not only must he be enthusiastic for cause and
country, but he must be strong for his division, regiment and company.
Much depends on the officers that directly command him. He must have
confidence in them, see that they know their business, and that they
are looking out for the welfare of their men as well as expecting much
from them. Competition between companies, regiments, and arms of the
service was a strong force tending towards rapid progress in training
and good service in the field. Interest in the actual technical work
that was being done, and seeing that one's immediate group was
accomplishing something towards the winning of the war was a powerful
spur, while a sense of the uselessness of the work in hand strongly
depressed the morale of a group. "Nothing succeeds like success";
morale was at its best when the army was advancing and seemingly
nearing the goal. Morale was also wonderfully good when the enemy was
advancing, provided your side was holding well with a good prospect of
bringing the enemy to a halt and baffling his offensive. On the other
hand, nothing was so hard on morale as the failure of an ambitious
offensive of one's own side; the sense of futility and hopelessness
then reached its maximum--except, of course, for the case of obviously
approaching defeat. The conditions of trench warfare imposed a strain
on morale: no progress, in spite of the danger and hardship, no chance
to get at the enemy or do anything positive.
The manager of an industrial enterprise has the same problem of morale
to meet. It is his business to get action from people who come into
the enterprise as servants. The {545} main difficulty with the
master-servant relation is that the servant has so little play for his
own self-assertion. The master sets the goal, and the servant has
submissively to accept it. This is not his enterprise, and therefore
he is likely to show little "pep" in his work. He can be driven to a
certain extent by fear and economic want; but better results, and the
best social condition generally, can be expected from such management
as enlists the individual's own will. He must be made to feel that the
enterprise is his, after all. He must feel that he is fairly treated,
and that he receives a just share of the proceeds. He must be
interested in the purposes of the concern and in the operations on
which he is engaged. Best of all, perhaps, some responsibility and
initiative must be delegated to him. When the master, not contented
with setting the main goal, insists on bossing every detail,
continually interfering in the servant's work, the servant has the
least possible chance of adopting the job as _his own_. But where the
master is able, in the first place, to show the servant the objective
need and value of the goal, and to leave the initiative in respect to
ways and means to the servant, looking to him for results, the servant
often responds by throwing himself into the enterprise as if it were
his own--as, indeed, it properly is in such a case.
"Initiative"--that high-grade trait that is so much in demand--seems
to be partly a matter of imagination and partly of will. It demands
inventiveness in seeing what can be done, zest for action, and an
independent and masterful spirit.
The physician who treats "nervous" or neurotic cases has this problem
of getting action from his patients. Strange as it may seem, these
cases, while bemoaning their unfortunate condition, cling to it as if
it had its compensations, and do not wholeheartedly _will to get
well_. They have {546} slumped into the attitude of invalidism, and
need reorientation towards the goal of health and accomplishment. How
to bring this about is the great problem. Much depends here on the
personality of the physician, and different physicians (as well as
mental healers outside the medical profession) employ different
technique with more or less of success. The first necessity is to win
the patient's confidence; after that, some use persuasion, some
suggestion, some psychoanalysis, some (non-medical practitioners) use
metaphysical doctrines designed to lead the patient to "hitch his
wagon to a star". On the intellectual side, these methods agree in
giving the patient a new perspective, in which weakness, ill health
and maladaptation are seen to be small, insignificant and unnecessary,
and health and achievement desirable and according to the nature of
things; while on the side of impulse they probably come together in
appealing to the masterful and self-assertive tendency, either by
putting the subject on his mettle, or by leading him to partake of the
determined, masterful attitude of the physician, or by making him feel
that he is one with the great forces of the universe. Methods that
psychologically are very similar to these are employed by the
clergyman in dealing with morally flabby or maladjusted individuals;
and the courts are beginning to approach the delinquent from the same
angle. All the facts seem to indicate that the way to get action is to
have a goal that "fires the imagination" and enlists the masterful
tendencies of human nature.
The Influence of Suggestion
Can the will of one person be controlled by that of another, through
hypnotism or any similar practice? This question is often asked
anxiously by those who fear that crime or misconduct willed by one
person may be passively executed by another.
{547}
Hypnosis is a sleeplike and passive state that is nevertheless
attentive and concentrated. It appears as if the subject were awake at
just one point, namely at the point of relation with the hypnotizer.
To stimuli from other sources, external or internal, he is
inaccessible. His field of activity is narrowed down to a point,
though at that point he may be intensely active.
The depth of the hypnotic state varies from shallow to profound.
Comparatively few individuals can be deeply hypnotized, but many can
be got into a mild receptive state, in which they accept the
suggestions of the hypnotizer more readily than in the fully awaking
state. The waking person is alert, suspicious, assertive, while the
hypnotized subject is passive and submissive. The subject's
coöperation is necessary, in general, in order to bring on the
hypnotic state, whether shallow or deep.
The means of inducing hypnosis are many and varied, but they all
consist in shoving aside extraneous thoughts and stimuli, and getting
the subject into a quiet, receptive attitude, with attention sharply
focussed upon the operator.
When the subject is in this state, the "suggestions" of the operator
are accepted with less criticism and resistance than in the fully
waking state. In deep hypnosis, gross illusions and even
hallucinations can be produced. The operator hands the subject a
bottle of ammonia, with the assurance that it is the perfume of roses,
and the subject smells of it with every appearance of enjoyment. The
operator points to what he says is a statue of Apollo in the corner,
and the subject apparently sees one there.
Loss of sensation can also be suggested and accepted. Being assured
that his hand has lost its sensation and cannot feel a pin prick, the
subject allows his hand to be pricked with no sign of pain. Paralysis
of the arm or leg can be similarly suggested and accepted.
{548}
Acts may be suggested and performed. The subject is handed a cardboard
sword with the assurance that that is a sword, and directed to attack
some person present, which he does with the appearance of serious
intent.
Now, however, let the subject be given a real sword with the same
command as before. Result--the subject wakes up! This suggestion was
too much; it aroused dormant tendencies, broadened out the field of
activity, and so produced the waking condition. A suggestion that runs
counter to the subject's organized character and tendencies cannot get
by without arousing them and so awakening the subject. Consequently,
there does not seem to be much real danger of crimes being performed
by innocent persons under hypnosis.
In mild hypnosis, the above striking phenomena are not produced, but
suggestions of curative value may be conveyed, and so taken to heart
that they produce real results. The drowsy state of a child just
falling to sleep can be similarly utilized for implanting suggestions
of value. One little boy had a nervous twitching of the face that was
very annoying. His father, just as the child was dropping off to
sleep, conveyed the suggestion that the child didn't like this
twitching; and this suggestion, repeated night after night, in a few
days caused the twitching almost wholly to disappear.
Suggestion often succeeds in a waking state. In a certain test for
"suggestibility", the task is set of copying a series of lines. The
first line is short, the second longer, the third longer still, the
rest all of the same length, but the more suggestible individual keeps
on making each succeeding line longer. There are, however, various
tests for suggestibility, and an individual who succumbs to one does
not necessarily succumb to another, so that it may be doubted whether
we should baldly speak of one individual as more suggestible than
another.
{549}
Suggestion may be exerted by a person, or by the circumstances. If by
a person, the more "prestige" he enjoys in the estimation of the
subject, the greater his power of suggestion. A prestige person is one
to whom you are submissive. A child is so dependent on older people,
and so much accustomed to "being told", that he is specially
susceptible to prestige suggestion.
Suggestion exerted by the circumstances is about the same as what is
often called "auto-suggestion" or "self-suggestion". A man falls and
hurts his hip, and, finding his leg difficult to move, conceives that
it is paralyzed, and may continue paralyzed for some time.
"Counter-suggestion" applies to cases where a suggestion produces the
result contrary to what is suggested. You suggest to a person that he
should do a certain thing, and immediately he is set against that act,
though, left to himself, he would have performed it. Or, you advance a
certain opinion and at once your hearer takes the other side of the
question. Quite often skilful counter-suggestion can secure action,
from children or adults, which could not be had by positive suggestion
or direct command.
If suggestion succeeds by arousing the submissive tendency,
counter-suggestion succeeds by arousing the assertive tendency.
Suggestion works when it gets response without awakening the
resistance which might be expected, and counter-suggestion when it
arouses so much resistance that the suggestion itself does not have
the influence which might be expected. In terms of stimulus and
response, suggestion works when a particular stimulus (what is
suggested) arouses response without other stimuli being able to
contribute to the response; and counter-suggestion works when a
stimulus (what is suggested, again) is itself prevented from
contributing to the response. In counter-suggestion, response to the
suggestion itself is inhibited, and in positive {550} suggestion
response to other stimuli is inhibited. Both involve narrowness of
response, and are opposed to what we commonly speak of as "good
judgment", the taking of all relevant stimuli into account, and
letting the response be aroused by the combination.
{551}
EXERCISES
1. Outline the chapter.
2. Which of the previous chapters have the closest contacts with
the present chapter?
3. How does the popular conception of hypnotism differ from the
scientific?
4. List 8 acts performed during the day, and arrange them in order
from the most involuntary to the most voluntary.
5. Analyze a complex performance so as to show what in it is voluntary
and what involuntary.
6. Mention an instance of practice changing a voluntary performance
into an involuntary, and one of practice changing an involuntary
performance into a voluntary.
7. If an individual is influenced by two opposing motives, must he
act according to the stronger of the two?
8. Illustrate, in the case of anger, several ways of dealing with a
rejected motive. i.e., in what different ways can anger be
controlled?
9. How would you represent purpose in neural terms? How does
it compare with "mental set"?
REFERENCES
On the importance of self-assertion (and of submission) in will, and
on the relation of conduct to impulse and to reasoning, see
McDougall's _Social Psychology_, Chapter IX, on "Volition", and
Supplementary Chapter I, on "Theories of Action".
For a practical study of the question, how to secure action, see
Walter Dill Scott's _Increasing Human Efficiency in Business_, 1911.
On hypnotism, see Albert Moll's _Hypnotism_, translated by A. F.
Hopkirk; or James's Chapter XXVII in his _Principles of Psychology_,
1890.
{552}
CHAPTER XXI
PERSONALITY
THE INDIVIDUAL AS A WHOLE, INTEGRATED OR PARTIALLY DISSOCIATED
People differ not only in intelligence and efficiency, but in an
intangible something referred to as "personality". If your
acquaintance is applying for a certain position, and has named you as
one of his references, you will be asked by the appointing officer to
tell what you know of the candidate's experience, his knowledge and
skill in the field where he desires a position, his character and
habits, and his _personality_; and in replying you state, if you
conscientiously can, that the candidate has a pleasing and forceful
personality, that he gets on well with superiors, equals and
inferiors, is coöperative, energetic, ambitious without being selfish,
clean, modest, brave, self-reliant, cheerful, optimistic,
equal-tempered; and you perhaps include here traits that might also be
classed under the head of "character", as honesty, truthfulness,
industry, reliability, and traits that might be classed under
physique, as good appearance and carriage, commanding presence, a
"strong face", and even neatness and good taste in dress. Here we have
an array of traits that are of great importance to the individual's
success in his work, in his social relationships and in his family
life; and it is a proof of how much remains to be accomplished in
psychology that we cannot as yet present anything like a real
scientific analysis of personality, nor show on what elementary
factors it depends.
{553}
Factors in Personality
If we do attempt some sort of analysis, we have first to notice that
personality depends in part on _physique_. In ordinary life, mental
and physical traits are not sharply distinguished, and probably they
cannot be distinguished except in the abstract. The mere size of a
person affects his attitude towards other people and their attitude
towards him--and it is in such social relations that personality most
clearly stands out. His size affects the individual's behavior in
subtle ways, since the big fellow dominates others easily just by
virtue of his size, and so tends to be good-humored, while the little
fellow is apt to be strenuous and self-assertive. Muscular development
and "looks" also have their effect on personality.
Another factor might, by a sort of play on words, be called
_chemique_. This corresponds to what is often called _temperament_, a
very obscure matter psychologically. We speak of one as having an
excitable temperament, a jovial or a sour temperament. "Disposition"
is another word used in connection with such traits. The ancients
attempted to relate the "four temperaments" to the four great "humors"
or fluids of the body. Thus the "sanguine" individual was one with a
surplus of blood, the "choleric" had a surplus of bile, the
"phlegmatic" a surplus of phlegm, and the "melancholic" a surplus of
black bile or spleen; and any individual's temperament resulted from
the balance of these four. Sometimes a fifth temperament, the nervous,
was admitted, dependent on the "nerve fluid".
This particular chemical derivation of temperament is, of course, out
of date, being based on very imperfect knowledge of physiology; but it
still remains possible that chemical substances carried around in the
body fluids have much to do with the sort of trait that we think of
under {554} the head of temperament. Only that to-day, with some
knowledge regarding the internal secretions of the "endocrine glands",
we should be inclined to connect temperament with them, rather than
with blood, bile, etc. Take, for example, the secretion of the adrenal
glands, that we found to be poured out during fear and anger and to
have so much to do with the bodily condition of readiness for violent
action and probably also with the "stirred-up" emotional state. What
is more likely than that individuals differ in the strength of their
adrenal secretion or in the readiness with which the glands are
aroused to pour it out into the circulation? The excitable individual
might be one with over-active adrenals. And in the same way the
strenuous individual might be one with an unusually active thyroid
gland, since there certainly seems to be some connection between this
gland and the tendency to great activity. There are several other
glands that possibly affect behavior in somewhat similar ways, so that
it is not improbable, though still rather hypothetical, that chemical
substances, produced in these glands, and carried by the blood to the
brain and muscles, have much to do with the elusive traits that we
class under temperament and personality.
Once more, consider the instincts in relation to personality.
Undoubtedly these instinctive tendencies differ in strength in
different individuals. One is more gregarious than another, and this
is an important element in his personality. One is more assertive and
masterful than another, one is more "motherly" than another, more
responsive by tender and protective behavior to the presence of
children or others who need help. One is more prone to laugh than
another, and the "sense of humor" is admitted to be an important
element in personality. And so on through the list; so that
personality can be partially analyzed in terms of instinct.
{555}
Has _intelligence_ anything to do with personality? It certainly has,
in many ways. One who is slow in learning adapts himself poorly to
other persons and remains out of touch with his social environment.
"Tact" depends partly on instinctive liking for society, no doubt, but
partly on the ability to perceive what others want, and on the
imagination to put yourself in their place. High principles require
the ability to reason things out and see them in perspective.
Statistical studies of the rulers of Europe, for a period of several
centuries, show that on the whole those with higher intelligence were
also of better character and personality. Criminals, taken as a whole,
average rather low in intelligence; and it may even be doubted whether
the clever, scheming rascal, who defrauds widows of their money, or
trains feeble-minded boys to pick pockets for him, has, after all, the
brains of the man who can easily see how such schemes could be worked
but decides against them himself because he sees something better
worth doing.
A sense of inferiority, either physical or mental, is apt to affect
the personality unfavorably. It does not necessarily produce humble
behavior; far from that, it often leads to a nervous assertiveness. An
apparently disdainful individual is often really shy and unsure of
himself. Put a man where he can see he is equal to his job and at the
same time is accomplishing something worth while, and you often see
considerable improvement in his personality.
The Self
In a broad, objective sense, the self is the individual, but in a more
subjective sense the self is what the individual knows about himself,
how he conceives himself, how he feels about himself, what he plans
and wishes for himself. It is reasonable to suppose that the newly
born infant does not {556} distinguish himself from other objects.
Perhaps his foot, as he sees it, seems simply an object among others,
like a toy; but he soon learns to connect the visual appearance with
the cutaneous and kinesthetic sensations from the foot, and these
sensations, along with the organic, always retain in large measure the
subjective quality of belonging to the self, whereas sights, sounds,
odors and tastes seem to belong to objects distinct from the self.
If we ask how the child comes to make the distinction between the self
and the not-self, we have to call to mind the assertiveness that
manifests itself very early in the child's behavior--how he resists
being pushed and pulled about, struggles against being held, and in
many ways, more and more complex as he develops, shows that he has a
"will of his own". It is in resisting and overcoming external things
that he comes to distinguish himself from them.
Not only external things, but other _persons_ particularly, have to be
encountered and resisted by the child; and often, too, he has to
submit to them, after a struggle. Probably he distinguishes between
himself and other people even more sharply than between himself and
inanimate things. Ask any one to tell you what he knows about himself,
and he will begin to tell you how he differs from others. Thus the
individual's conception of himself is largely a product of his social
experience.
The self is first known as wish or will, and probably that always
remains the core of any one's conception of himself. That is to say, I
think of myself first of all as wishing, aiming, purposing, resisting,
striving, competing. But I may come to know myself more objectively.
By dint of experience I know something of my limitations. I know I am
not muscular enough to do this, nor mathematical enough to do that,
nor artistic enough to do the other. In this progressive age, some
children even know their own IQ. We {557} have frequent occasion to
measure ourselves against others, or against tasks, and lay some of
the lessons to heart. Though most of us are probably inclined to
overrate ourselves, many will be found to give a pretty exact estimate
of themselves. It is surprising that this should be so, in view of the
tendency to believe what one wishes, and of the deep-seated desire for
superiority or at least against inferiority. It shows that, after all,
there is a good deal of fidelity to fact in our make-up.
The word "self-assertion", which has been used more or less throughout
the book as a name for the native tendency to resist, persist, master,
dominate, display oneself and seek social recognition, can now be seen
to be not entirely a good word for the purpose. It seems to imply that
the self-assertive individual is necessarily conscious of the self.
From what has just been said, it can be seen that this would be
putting the cart before the horse. The self-assertive impulse
precedes, consciousness of self follows and depends on self-assertion.
A true estimate of oneself and one's limitations arises from
self-assertion plus experience of failure and the necessity of giving
up and submitting.
Self-assertion is not identical with selfishness. Selfishness aims to
get, self-assertion to do. Selfish behavior is, however, often
dictated by self-assertion, as when a person wishes to get and have,
in order to be able to show by his possessions what a great man he is.
But sometimes self-assertion squelches selfishness, leading a person
to renounce present gain without hope of later gain in compensation,
just because he sees in such renunciation the best chance for mastery
and proving himself "the captain of his soul".
The "expansion of the self" is an interesting and significant
phenomenon. The individual comes to call things, persons, social
groups, ideas and principles by the name {558} "mine". Now what is
mine is part of me. My self-feeling attaches to my dog; I am proud of
that dog, brag of his exploits, am cast down if I see him outclassed;
and it is the same way with my house, my son, my town, my country. We
spoke of this sort of thing before, under the name of "sublimation of
the self-assertive impulse", and we said then that the sublimation was
made possible by the combination of this impulse with some other
interest. My dog is not entirely myself; he is a dog, and I am
interested in him as a dog; I am interested in other dogs, and like to
watch their antics. But this particular dog means more than another to
me because he is mine; I have expanded myself to include him. In
general, the self is expanded to take in objects that are interesting
in themselves, but which become doubly interesting by being
appropriated and identified in some measure with oneself.
Integration and Disintegration of the Personality
Though the individual is always in one sense a unit, there is a sense
in which he needs to achieve unity. His various native tendencies and
interests do not always pull together, and in fact some necessarily
pull against others. So that we sometimes say of a person that he is
behaving so differently from usual that we should not know he was the
same person. We may speak of one person as being well integrated,
meaning that he is always himself, his various tendencies being so
coördinated as to work reasonably well together; whereas of another we
speak as poorly integrated, unstable, an uncertain quantity.
Integration is achieved partly by selection from among conflicting
impulses, partly by coördination, partly by judicious treatment of
those impulses that are denied; as was partly explained in the last
chapter.
{559}
The self, expanding socially, may expand in more than one direction,
with the result that the individual has in a sense two or more selves,
one for his business, one for his home; and it may happen that the
instincts and interests dominating the individual in these two
relations are quite different, so that a man who is hard and grasping
in business is kind and generous to his wife and children. "Dr. Jekyll
and Mr. Hyde" gives an extreme picture of such lack of integration, a
picture rather fanciful than drawn from real life.
But we do find in real life cases of _dissociation_ of the
personality, also called cases of double or multiple personality. The
individual passes from one state to another, behaving very differently
in the two states, and usually unable to remember in the primary or
more lasting state what he has done in the secondary state. In the
secondary state he remembers what he did in the primary state, but is
apt to speak of it as if done by another person. In many cases, the
primary state seems limited and hampered, as if the individual were
not his complete self, while the secondary state is a sort of
complement to the first, but decidedly imperfect in itself. Thus in
the primary state the individual may be excessively quiet, while in
the secondary state he is excessively mischievous. It is much as if
some of his reaction-tendencies were forcibly kept apart from the
rest, so that when they did become aroused to activity, the remainder
of the individual went to sleep. The individual seems to function in
fractions, and never as a whole.
Often the secondary state likes to have a name for itself and to be
considered as a secondary personality, as if two persons were
inhabiting the same body--a very forced conception. The secondary
personality will even assert that it stays awake in the background and
watches the primary personality when the latter is active, spying on
it without {560} that personality being aware of it. Thus two
fractions of the individual would be functioning at the same time, but
still not working together as a unit.
This claim of the secondary personality has been experimentally
checked up by Dr. Morton Prince, in the following way. He was able to
cause his subject, a young woman, to pass from the primary to the
secondary state and back again, by a procedure resembling hypnotism.
While she was in the secondary state, he told her that she (the
secondary personality) was to solve an arithmetical problem, the
general nature of which he described to her then and there, while the
actual numbers were not shown till she was put back in the primary
state. He then put her into the primary state for a few moments, and
placed the numbers unobtrusively before her, without the primary
personality seeming to notice them. Put back now into the secondary
state, she instantly shouted out the answer to the problem, and
asserted that she (the secondary personality) had had the answer ready
for some time, and had been impatiently waiting to be brought back and
announce it. This is at least prima facie evidence in favor of Dr.
Prince's view, that two separate fractions of the individual were both
functioning consciously at the same time.
It is weird business, however interpreted, and raises the question
whether anything of the same sort, only milder in degree, occurs in
ordinary experience. Here is one somewhat similar fact that we are all
familiar with: we have two matters in hand at the same time, very
different in their emotional tone, one perhaps a worrisome matter of
business, the other an interesting personal matter; and the shift from
one to the other feels almost like changing personalities. Also, while
busy with one, we may sometimes feel the other stirring, just barely
awake and dimly conscious.
Also, is not something like this true?--A person, very {561}
conscientious in the performance of his duties, always doing what he
is told, feels stirrings of a carefree, independent spirit, as if some
sides of his nature were not finding expression, and in little ways he
gives it expression, not exactly by taking a "moral holiday"
[Footnote: This is one of William James's expressive phrases.] or
going on a spree of some sort, but by venting his impulses just an
instant at a time, so that he scarcely remembers it later, and in such
little ways that other people, also, are scarcely aware of It. He has
a "secondary personality", only it is little developed, and it has its
little place in the conscious life, instead of being dissociated.
In the cases of true dissociation, there was often a violent emotional
shock that started the cleavage. One celebrated case started at 8
years of age, when the subject, a little girl, was thrown to the floor
by a drunken father angered by finding the child asleep in his bed.
From that moment, it would seem that the frolicsome side of childish
behavior was banished from the main personality, and could get into
action only when the main personality relaxed its control and became
dormant; so that thereafter the child alternated between two states,
one very quiet, industrious and conscientious, the other vivacious and
mischievous; and the main personality never remembered what was done
in this secondary, mischievous state. In such cases, it would appear
that the cleavage resulted from a violent thrusting out from the main
personality of tendencies inconsistent with the dominant (here
serious) attitude of that personality.
The Unconscious, or, the Subconscious Mind
Here at last, it may strike the reader, we have come to the core of
the whole subject of psychology; for many readers will undoubtedly
have been attracted by the statements {562} sometimes made, to the
effect that the "unconscious" represents the deeper and more
significant part of mental life, and that psychologists who confine
their attention mostly to the conscious activities are treating their
subject in a very partial and superficial manner. There is a sort of
fascination about the notion of a subconscious mind, and yet it will
be noticed that psychologists, as a rule, are inclined to be wary and
critical in dealing with it. Let as take up in order the various sorts
of unconscious mental processes.
In the first place, _retention is unconscious_. The host of memories
that a person possesses and can recall under suitable conditions is
carried about with him in an unconscious condition. But there need be
no special mystery about this, nor is it just to speak about memories
being "preserved in the unconscious". The fact simply is that
retention is a resting condition, whereas consciousness is an active
condition. Retention is a matter of brain structure, neurone
connections, neural mechanisms ready for action when the proper
stimulus reaches them but remaining inactive till the stimulus comes.
An idea is like a motor reaction, to the extent that it is a reaction;
and we retain ideas in the same way that we retain learned motor
reactions. Now no one would think of saying that a learned motor
reaction was retained in the unconscious. The motor reaction is not
present at all, until it is aroused; the neuro-muscular mechanism for
executing the reaction is present, but needs a stimulus to make it
active and give the reaction. In the same way, an idea is not present
in the individual except when it is activated, but its neural
mechanism is present, and unconscious just because it is inactive.
Unconscious inactivity is therefore no great problem. But there is
such a thing as _unconscious activity_. Two sorts of such activity are
well known. First, there are the {563} purely "physiological"
processes of digestion, liver and kidney secretion, etc. We are quite
reconciled to these being unconscious, and this is not the sort of
unconscious activity that gives us that fascinatingly uncanny feeling.
Second, there are the "secondarily automatic" processes, once
conscious, now almost or quite unconscious through the effect of
frequent repetition.
Such unconscious activities occur as _side-activities_, carried on
while something else occupies attention, or as _part-activities_ that
go on while attention is directed to the total performance of which
they are parts. In either case, the automatism may be motor or
perceptive, and the degree of consciousness may range from moderate
down to zero. [Footnote: See pp. 265-267.]
For example, the letters of your name you write almost unconsciously,
while fully conscious of writing your name. When you are reading, the
letters are only dimly conscious, and even the words are only
moderately conscious, while the whole performance of reading is highly
conscious. These are instances of unconscious (or dimly conscious)
part-activities. Unconscious side-activities are illustrated by
holding your books firmly but unconsciously under your arm, while
absorbed in conversation, by drumming with your fingers while puzzling
over a problem, and by looking at your watch and reading the time, but
so nearly unconsciously that the next instant you have to look again.
In all such cases, the unconscious or barely conscious activity has
been made easy by previous practice, and there is no special
fascination about it, except such as comes through the use of that
awesome word, "unconscious".
But now for the real "subconscious mind". You try to recall a familiar
name, but are stuck; you drop the matter, and "let your subconscious
mind work"; and, sure enough, after a few minutes you have the name.
Or, you are all {564} tangled up in a difficult problem; you let the
subconscious mind work on it overnight, and next morning it is
perfectly clear. Just here it is that psychology begins to take issue
with the popular idea. The popular interpretation is that work has
been done on the problem during the interval when it was out of
consciousness--unconscious mental work of a high order. But is it
necessary to suppose that any work has been done on the problem during
the interval?
The difficulty, when you first attacked the problem, arose from false
clues which, once they got you, held you by virtue of their "recency
value". [Footnote: See pp. 390-391.] The matter laid aside, these
false clues lost their recency value with lapse of time, so that when
you took the matter up again you were free from their interference and
had a good chance to go straight towards the goal.
It is the same with motor acts. On a certain day, a baseball pitcher
falls into an inefficient way of handling the ball, and, try as he
may, cannot recover his usual form. He has to give up for that day,
but after a rest is as good as ever. Shall we say that his
subconscious mind has been practising pitching during the rest
interval? It is much more likely that here, as in the preceding case,
the value of a fresh start lies in freshness, in rest and the
consequent disappearance of interferences, rather than in any work
that has been done during the interval of rest.
Next, consider the "co-conscious" as Morton Prince has well named
the presence and activity of the secondary personality along with the
primary, as in his experiment described above. Here it seems that two
streams of consciousness were flowing along side by side within the
same individual. There is the activity of the main personality, and
there is the activity of the secondary personality, going on at the
same time without the knowledge of the main {565} personality. This is
a way of reading the facts, rather than a simple statement of fact,
but at least it is a reasonable interpretation, and worthy of
consideration.
Unconscious Wishes and Motives
Schopenhauer wrote much of the "will to live", which was, in his view,
as unconscious as it was fundamental, and only secondarily gave rise
to the conscious life of sensations and ideas. Bergson's "élan vital"
has much the same meaning. In a sense, the will to live is the
fountain of all our wishes; in another sense, it is the sum total of
them all; and in another sense, it is an abstraction, the concrete
facts consisting in the various particular wishes and tendencies of
living creatures. The will to live is not simply the will to stay
alive; it is the will to _live_ with all that that includes. Life is
activity, and to live means, for any species, to engage in the full
activity possible for that species.
The will to live is in a sense unconscious, since it is seldom present
simply in that bald, abstract form. But since life is activity, any
will to act is the will to live in a special form, so that we may
perfectly well say that the will to live is always conscious whenever
there is any conscious impulse or purpose.
In this simple statement we may find the key to all unconscious
motives, disregarding the case of dissociation and split personality.
If you analyze your motives for doing a certain act and formulate them
in good set terms, then you have to admit that this motive was
unconscious before, or only dimly conscious, since it was not
formulated, it was not isolated, it was not present in the precise
form you have now given it. Yet it was there, implicated in the total
conscious activity. It was not unconscious in the sense of being
active in a different, unconscious realm. The realm in which it was
active was that of conscious activity, and it formed an {566}
unanalyzed part of that activity. It was there in the same way that
overtones are present in perceiving the tone quality of a particular
instrument; the overtones are not _separately_ heard and may be very
difficult to analyze, yet all the time they are playing an important
part in the conscious perception.
In the same way, we may not "realize" that we are helping our friend
as a way of dominating over him, but think, so far as we stop to
think, that our motive is pure helpfulness. Later, analyzing our
motives, we may separate out the masterful tendency, which was present
all the time and consciously present, but so bound up with the other
motive of helpfulness that it did not attract attention to itself. Now
if our psychology makes us cynics, and leads us to ascribe the whole
motivation of the helpful act to the mastery impulse, and therefore to
regard this as working in the unconscious, we are fully as far from
the truth as when we uncritically assumed that helpfulness was the
only motive operating.
For man, to live means a vast range of activity--more than can
possibly be performed by any single individual. We wish to do a
thousand things that we never can do. We are constantly forced to
limit the field of our activity. Physical incapacity, mental
incapacity, limitations of our environment, conflict between one wish
and another of our own, opposition from other people, and mere lack of
time, compel us to give up many of our wishes. Innumerable wishes must
be laid aside, and some, resisting, have to be forcibly suppressed.
Renunciation is the order of the day, from childhood up to the age
when weakness and weariness supervene upon the zest for action, and
the will to live fades out into readiness to die.
What becomes of the suppressed wishes, we have already briefly
considered. [Footnote: See p. 533.] We have noticed Freud's conception
{567} that they live on "in the unconscious". Nothing ever learned, he
would say, can ever be forgotten, and no wish ever aroused can ever be
quieted, except by being gratified either directly or through some
substitute response. Each one of us, according to this view, carries
around inside of him enough explosive material to blow to bits the
whole social structure in which he lives. It is the suppressed sex
wishes, and spite wishes growing out of thwarted sex wishes, that
mostly constitute the unconscious.
These unconscious wishes, according to Freud, motivate our dreams, our
queer and apparently accidental actions, such as slips of the tongue
and other "mistakes", the yet queerer and much more serious "neurotic
symptoms" that appear in some people, and even a vast deal of our
serious endeavor in life. All the great springs of action are sought
in the unconscious. The biologist, consciously, is driven by his
desire to know the world of plants and animals, but what really
motivates him, on this view, is his childish sex curiosity, thwarted,
driven back upon itself, and finding a substitute outlet in biological
study. And so, in one way or another, with every one of us.
All this seems to depart pretty far from sober reality, and especially
from proved fact. It involves a very forced interpretation of child
life, an interpretation that could never have arisen from a direct
study of children, but which has seemed useful in the psychoanalysis
of maladjusted adults. It is a far cry from the facts that Freud seeks
to explain, to the conception of the infantile unconscious with which
he endeavors to explain them.
Freud's conception of life and its tendencies is much too narrow.
There is not half enough room in his scheme of things for life as it
is willed and lived. There is not room in it even for all the
instincts, nor for the "native likes and dislikes"; and there is still
less room for the will to live, in {568} the sense of the zest for all
forms of activity, each for its own sake as a form of vital activity.
Any scheme of motivation, which traces all behavior back to a few
formulated wishes, is much too abstract, as was illustrated just above
in the case of the helpful act.
Freud is apparently guilty of yet another error, in supposing that any
specific wish, ungratified, lives on as the same, identical, precise
wish. A very simple instance will make clear the point of this
criticism. Suppose that the first time you definitely mastered the
fact that "3 times 7 are 21", it was in a certain schoolroom, with a
certain teacher and a certain group of schoolfellows. You were perhaps
animated at that moment by the desire to secure the approval of that
teacher and to shine before those schoolfellows. Does it follow, then,
that every time you now make use of that bit of the multiplication
table, you are "unconsciously" gratifying that wish of long ago? To
believe that would be to neglect all that we have learned of
"shortcircuiting" and of the "substitute stimulus" generally.
[Footnote: See p. 338.] That wish of long ago played its part in
linking the response to the stimulus, but the linkage became so close
that that precise wish was no longer required. The same response has
been made a thousand times since, with other wishes in the game, and
when the response is made to-day, a new wish is in the game. It is the
same with the biologist. Suppose, for the sake of argument, what
probably is true in only a fraction of the cases, that the biologist's
first interest in making any minute study of animals arose from sex
curiosity. As soon, however, as he engaged in any real study of
animals, substitute stimuli entered and got attached to his exploring
responses; and to suppose that that identical wish of long ago is
still subconsciously active, whenever the biologist takes his
microscope in hand, is to throw out all {569} these substitute stimuli
and their attachments to many new responses, and to see in a very
complex activity only one little element.
In making use of the conception of the unconscious to assist us in
interpreting human conduct, we are thus exposed to two errors. First,
finding a motive which was not analyzed out by the individual, and
which was only vaguely and implicitly conscious, and formulating that
motive in an explicit way, we are then liable to the error of
supposing that the motive must have been explicitly present, not
indeed in consciousness but in the unconscious; whereas the whole
truth is exhausted when we say that it was consciously but only
implicitly present--active, but not active all alone. Second, having
traced out how a certain act was learned, we are apt to suppose that
its history is repeated whenever it is performed afresh--that the
wishes and ideas that were essential to its original performance must
be unconsciously present whenever it is once more
performed--neglecting thus the fact that what is retained and renewed
consists of responses, rather than experiences. What is renewed when a
learned act is performed is not the history of the act, but the act
itself. In a new situation, the act is part of a new performance, and
its motivation is to some degree new.
Though his theories are open to criticism, Freud has made important
contributions to the study of personality. The same can be said of
other schools of psycho-pathology. Jung and Adler deserve mention as
representing varieties of psychoanalysis that differ more or less
radically from that of Freud. Outside of the psychoanalytic school
altogether, Janet and Morton Prince have added much to psychological
knowledge from their studies of dissociated and maladjusted
personalities. In endeavoring to assist the maladjusted individual,
all these schools have much in common, since they all seek to bring to
his attention elements in his personality {570} of which he is not
clearly aware. Clear consciousness of implicit or dissociated elements
in one's personality often proves to be a step towards a firmer
organization of the personality and towards a better adjustment to the
conditions of life.
{571}
EXERCISES
1. Outline the chapter.
2. Mention some personal traits that appear when the individual
is dealing with inanimate things, and some that only appear in
dealing with other persons.
3. Construct a "rating scale" for the trait of independence, as
follows. Think of some one who is extremely independent, and call
him A; of some one who is at the opposite extreme and call him E;
of some one standing halfway, and call him C; and fill in the
positions B and D with other persons standing between A and C and
between C and E, in this matter of independence. You now have a
sort of measuring rod, with the five persons A, B, C, D and E
marking degrees of the trait. To rate any other individual,
consider where he belongs on this scale--whether even with A, with
B, etc.
4. How does the embarrassing "self-consciousness" of one who is
speaking in public differ from simple consciousness of self?
5. Consider what was conscious and what unconscious in the following
case of "shell shock": A sharpshooter had a certain peekhole in the
front of the trench through which he was accustomed to take aim at
the enemy. The enemy evidently spotted him, for bullets began to
strike close by as soon as ever he got up to shoot. He stood this
for a time, and then suddenly lost the sight of his right eye,
which he used in aiming.
6. Explain the difference between unconscious action of the
dissociated type and of the implicit type.
REFERENCES
For attempts to utilize psychological methods in the study of
personality, see F. L. Wells, _Mental Adjustments_, 1917; also Chapter
11 in Watson's _Psychology_, 1919.
Much interesting psychological material, along with a good deal of
philosophical discussion, is contained in James's chapter on the
"Consciousness of Self" in Vol. I of his _Principles of Psychology_,
1890.
For a discussion of the unconscious, see the symposium on
_Subconscious Phenomena_, 1910, participated in by Münsterberg, Ribot,
Janet, Jastrow, Hart and Prince.
On dissociation, see Morton Prince's _Dissociation of a Personality_.
For Freud's doctrine of the unconscious, see his _Psychopathology of
Everyday Life_, translated by Brill.
INDEX
Abulia, 499, 539-541, 545-546
Accessory sense-apparatus, 192-196, 200
Acquired reactions, 89-90, 94, 99-102, 112-114, 144, 247, 296-829, 399
Adaptation,
of attention, 247, 260;
negative, 302-303, 310, 312;
sensory, 224-225, 447
Adjustment, 72, 78-79, 131, 178, 382, 385, 420, 430, 431, 433
Adler, 569
Adrenal glands, 123-124, 554
Advantage,
factors of, 245-248, 259, 382;
law of, 256
Aggressive behavior, 160-161, 164-165
After-images, 226-227, 451-452
Ambiguous figures, 253-254, 425
Analysis,
of motives, 565-566, 569;
of sensations, 197, 201, 203, 205-206, 211-212, 230, 233
Anger, 118, 122-123, 125-126, 131-132, 158-159, 163, 300-301, 429-430
Animal behavior, 8-9, 14, 39-40, 76-79, 93-94, 97, 105-107, 109-111,
116, 121-122, 141, 145, 147, 148, 156, 159, 160, 298, 302-311,
313-314, 317-320, 436, 463-464
Aphasia, 57-60, 62, 428
Appetite, 125, 126
Applied psychology, 3-4
Apraxia, 57, 63-64, 428
Aptitudes, 101, 288-289, 291, 293
Area,
auditory, 50, 59-60, 62;
motor, 50-57;
olfactory, 62-63;
somesthetic, 50, 62-63;
speech, 58-60, 62;
visual, 50, 53, 62-63
Aristotle, 394, 454
Art, 182-183, 512-516
Assertiveness, _see_ Self-assertion
Association, 366;
by contiguity, 395-398, 405;
free, 376-381;
by similarity, 395-396, 405-408, 519;
laws of, 389-417;
controlled, 381-385, 413-414, 417
Association fibers, 56, 416-417, 424
Atrophy through disuse, 349, 390, 415
Attachment of stimulus and response, 25, 34-35, 53-54, 84, 92,
112, 135, 139, 298-301, 303, 311, 338, 372, 377-379, 390, 392, 394,
399-412, 414-417, 433
Attention, 244-269, 381, 421, 433
Attitude of attention, 249;
of thought, 249, 464
Autistic thinking, 508-510
Automatism, 26, 328, 338, 383-384, 433, 525, 563
Autonomic nerves, 124-125
Auto-suggestion, 549
Avoiding reaction, 24-25, 142-144, 305, 310
Axon, 31-38, 51-52, 56, 61, 64, 189-192
Baldwin, 243
Basilar membrane, 196, 234-235
Behavior psychology, 1, 8-9, 18, 21
Bergson, 565
Betts, 388
Big, appeal of the, 515-516
Binet, 272-273
Binet tests, 272-275
Binocular,
rivalry, 253-254;
vision, 442-443
Biology, 5;
liking for, 182
Black, a sensation, 218, 223-224
Blends, 197-199, 202-203, 205-206, 219-220, 232, 301, 424, 500
Bloomfield, 104
Boasting, 169, 495
Book, W. F., 325
Brain, 14-15, 28-30, 49-66, 292-293;
stem, 29-330, 32, 33, 50
Brown, Warner, 449
Bryan, 321
Cajal, 51, 61, 239
Callosum, 56, 62
Cannon, 136
Carr, 314
Caution, 156, 511
"Censor," 505-506
Central neurone, 37-39
Cerebellum, 29-30, 35, 50, 65
Cerebrum, 29-30, 50-64, 292-293
Character, 529, 555
Child, behavior, 91-92, 94-97, 100-101, 138, 141, 143-144, 147,
150-159, 162-168, 297-298, 300-301, 303-304, 313-314, 319, 357-358,
434-435, 437, 445, 481-483, 485-487, 490, 501, 504, 506, 526-527
Choice, 528-535
Cochlea, 192, 195-196, 234-235
Co-conscious, 564
Collecting instinct, 141
Color,
liking for, 183;
circle, 207;
cone, 209;
pyramid, 209;
sense, 204-228;
theories, 220-224;
tone, 206-207, 213-215;
triangle, 217;
zones, 211-212;
mixing, 214-217
Color-blindness, 209-211
Colored hearing, 376
Combination,
80, 135, 140, 148, 260-261, 299, 301, 306-308, 311, 323-326, 334,
479, 519;
law of, 263-264, 398-417, 431-432, 468
Comparative method, 14-15
Comparison, 466-467
Compensatory movements, 236-238
Complementary colors, 216-217, 227-228
"Complexes," 381
Conditioned reflex, 303-304, 312, 401-402
Cones, 191, 226
Consciousness, 7-8;
of animals, 8-9;
degrees of, 172, 265-267, 338, 383-384
Constant error, 447-448
Constitution, native, 91, 92, 98, 271, 289-292
Constructiveness, 154, 482
Contentment, 156-157
Contiguity, association by, 395-398, 405
Contrast, visual, 227-228
Control, 55, 257, 298, 320, 335-336,
348, 381-385, 413-414, 417, 484, 511
Coördination, 30, 37-39, 41, 55-59, 66, 260-261, 299, 410-412, 534-535
Correlation method, 14-16, 283-285
Cortex, 50, 52, 56-63, 293, 414, 423
Counter-suggestion, 549
Cramming, 342, 346
Criteria of instinct, 92, 97, 138
Criticism, 499-500, 503, 505, 508-512, 547
Crying, 144
Curiosity, 154-157, 181, 244, 258
Curve,
of distribution, 280;
of forgetting, 350, 390;
of learning or practice, 307, 316, 321, 325, 390
Cutaneous senses, 197-201, 224, 440, 451
Dallenbach, 362
Daring, 489, 518-519
Darwin, 127, 136
Davenport, 104
Day dreams, 493-499
Decision, 528-535
Defense mechanisms, 533, 535
Defensive reactions, 24-26, 142-144, 159-160, 162-164, 310
Delayed reaction, 76-77, 429
Delusion, 509
Dendrites, 31-32, 34-35, 51, 61, 190, 414
Detachment of response from stimulus, 299, 302, 310, 328
Determining tendency, 72, 380-385
Dewey, 480
Differential psychology, 3, 12, 180, 210, 271, 272, 274, 279-280,
286, 291-292, 368-370, 374, 548
Digestion, 121-123, 125
Discord, 232
Discovery, 421, 462
Discrimination, 435-437
Disgust, 127, 312
Dissociation, 559-561
Distraction, 259-260, 356-356
Distribution of intelligence, 274-275, 279-281
Dizziness, 238
Domination, 165
Dot figure, 252
Doubt, 472-473
Drainage, 269
Dreams, 499-508
Ear, 191-192, 195-196, 236-238
Ebbinghaus, 350, 365
Economy of effort, 151;
in memorizing, 338-346, 353
Effect, law of, 391-393, 413
Effort, 127, 162, 259-260, 534, 539
Egocentric response, 380
Elementary,
feelings, 173, 184-185;
sensations, 197-198, 201, 203, 211-212, 216-220, 233-234
Elimination in learning, 306, 308-309, 310, 314, 327
Emotion, 118-136, 137-169, 173, 299-301, 345, 355, 361, 381, 513-514,
554, 661
Empathy, 491, 516-516
Emulation, 165-166
End-brush of an axon, 33-36, 38, 61
Endocrine glands, 122-123, 554
Energy,
conservation of, 40;
dammed-up, 82-84, 301, 309, 393;
released, 535-546;
stored, 40-41, 46
Envy, 166, 168
Equilibrium, 65
Errors, 446-459, 467
Escape tendency, 142-144, 489, 498-499
Esthetics, 443-444, 457-458
Euphoria, 120, 151
Excitement, 126
Exercise,
effect of, 297-298;
law of, 389-391, 393-394, 413-415
Experiment in psychology, 12-15, 93, 302, 333
Explanation, 471-472
Exploration, 154-157, 244, 249-252, 258, 288, 305, 421, 462-465, 470
Expressive movements, 126-128
Eye, 32, 34-35, 62, 191, 198-196;
movements of, 249-251
Facilitation, 54-55, 78, 83-85, 248, 257, 263, 382-385, 413-414, 417
Factors,
in attention, 245-248, 259;
in intelligence, 285-288;
in memorizing, 345-346;
in personality, 553-555;
in recall, 379, 382
Faculties, 523
Fallacy, 467-468, 479
Father complex, 606
Fatigue, 73-74, 119, 123, 145, 151
Fear, 125-126, 129-133, 142-144, 153, 303-304, 489, 497-498, 504,
513, 516, 539-540;
abnormal, 133, 497-498
Feeble-mindedness, 275, 290-292, 446
Feeling, 172-185;
of activity, 45-46;
of excitement, 126, 184-185;
of familiarity, 185, 357-360;
of readiness, 75, 383;
of tension, 78-79, 184-185
Feeling-tone, 174-176, 178, 180-181
Feleky, 136
Fernald, 388
Fiction, 512-513
Fighting, 158-161
Fissures of the brain, 50
Fixation, 298
Fluctuation of attention, 254-255
Flying, 93
Forgetting, 349-353, 415
Forgotten name, 356, 563-564
Fovea, 193, 211, 226
Free association, 376, 504, 507;
test, 380
Frequency, 379, 390, 433
Freshmen, intelligence of, 279-281
Freud, 505-508, 522, 566-569, 571
Galton, 368, 388
Gamble, 243
Games, 487
Gates, 339, 365
General psychology, 4-5
Genetic method, 15-16, 90
Genius, 99
Glands, 25, 122-124, 303
Gliding dream, 503
Golden section, 444
Gray matter, 35-36, 50-52, 56, 61-62
Gregariousness, 110, 146-147
Group tests, 276-277
Habit, 89, 112-114, 157, 247-248, 260, 328-329, 381
Hallucination, 375-376, 501, 547
Hart, 571
Harter, 321
Hearing, 50, 59-60, 62, 228-235, 439-440
Helmholtz, 220, 234, 475
Helplessness, 144, 149
Henning, 203, 243
Herd instinct, 110, 146-147
Heredity, 91, 98, 100-101, 118, 289-292
Hering, 220-221
Hero,
worship, 168;
conquering and suffering, 494-496, 509
Herrick, 44, 67
Hesitancy, 530
Hicks, 306, 314
Higher units, 323-326, 334, 410-412
Hollingworth, 20, 104, 243
Homing, 78, 146
Humor, theories of, 157-168
Hunger, 79-81, 120, 140-141, 204
Hunter, 88, 295
Hunting instinct, 72, 78, 140-141
Hypnosis, 349, 547-548
Hypothesis, 473-475
Ideomotor action, 527-528
Illusion, 424, 450-459, 500, 547
Imageless thought, 374
Imagery,
mental, 368-376, 499-500;
in perception, 425-427;
types, 370
Imagination, 481-520, 525
Imitation, 319, 486
Impulse, 132-135, 155, 167, 177, 299, 524-525, 539
Incentives, 541-546
Incidental memory, 346-348, 397
Independence, 163-164
Individual, 91
Individual psychology, _see_ Differential psychology
Induction, 374-375
Inference, 465-468, 475-476, 479
Inferiority, sense of, 166, 168, 496, 510, 555
Inheritance of acquired traits, 113-114
Inhibition, 25, 54-55, 78, 83-84, 122-125, 248, 257, 263, 314, 382,
384, 429-430, 528, 540
Initiative, 545
Insane, 269, 508-609
Insight in learning, 316-320
Instinct, 105-116, 137-169, 179, 181, 488-489, 492, 513, 554;
criteria of, 92, 97, 138;
and emotion, 134-135;
modification of, 299-301
Integration, 558-561
Intelligence, 90-91, 271-293, 538, 555;
tests of, 3, 272-277, 281-283
Intelligence quotient, 274-275, 289-290
Intensity of sensation, 206;
of reaction, 379, 391, 433
Interest, 181-184, 248, 257-259
Interference, 355-356
Internal secretions, 122-123, 554
Intra-uterine life, 90-92
Introspection, 10-11, 19
Invalidism, 546
Invention, 421, 475, 484, 485, 509-512, 517, 619
"IQ," 274-275
Isolation, 431-432, 435-437, 455-459, 468,479
James, 117, 129, 136, 331, 365, 418, 480, 511, 551, 561, 571
James-Lange theory, 128-130
Janet, 569, 571
Jastrow, 571
Jennings, 88
Jost, 342
Judd, 461
Judgment, 550
Jung, 388, 569
Kimmins, 522
Kinesthesis, 240
König, 217
Ladd, 44
Ladd-Franklin, 221-224, 243, 453
Lange, 129
Lashley, 88
Laughter, 157-168, 161
Law,
of advantage, 256;
of association, 394-398;
of attention, 256, 262-263, 267;
of combination, 263-264, 398-417;
of effect, 391-393;
of exercise, 389-391, 393-394;
of habit, 389;
of reaction, 256, 262-263, 267;
of selection, 256, 262, 378, 382;
of shifting, 256, 263;
of tendency, 81, 263
Learning, 93-94, 96, 99, 112, 113, 143-144, 296-329;
laws of, 389-417, 433
Libido, 507
Light, 212-213
Likes and dislikes, 178-184, 291, 492-493, 513
Linkage, _see_ Attachment
Lobes of the brain, 50
Local sign, 440-441
Locomotion, 93-97, 99, 152-153, 486
Logic, 475-476
Love, 535
Loyalty, 169, 531
Make-believe, 482-483, 508
Management,
of action, 541-546;
of attention, 267-268;
of memory, 338-346, 353, 356, 360-363;
of reasoning, 478-479
Manipulation, 154, 315, 481-483
Massed learning, 341-343, 345
Mastery impulse, _see_ Self-assertion
Martin, 28
Mathematics, liking for, 181-182
Mating instinct, 97, 116, 147-148
Maturing, 92, 96
Maury, 501
Maze learning, 305-308, 318-314
McDougall, 136, 171, 418, 551
Meaning, 421, 482-483
Median, 280
Memorizing, 333-346, 360-363
Memory, 332-363
Memory colors, 426
Mental action, 6-7, 45-47
Mental age, 273-274
Mental set, 72, 382-385, 413-414, 417, 433, 452
Mental work, 384
Methods of psychology, 9-16
Mnemonic systems, 363
Modification of reactions, 297-299
Moll, 551
Morale, 543-545
Morgan, 270
Mother complex, 506
Mother instinct, 148-150, 159, 161
Motive, 69, 72, 84-85, 137, 257-258, 469-473, 487-499, 501-510,
513-517, 528-546, 565-570
Motor,
area, 50-54;
centers, 50-59, 65, 66;
nerve, 27, 30-33, 36-37, 39, 50, 52-53
Movement,
expressive, 126-128;
reflex, 24-26;
skilled, 55-59, 268, 321-326, 410-412;
voluntary, 53-55, 298
Moving pictures, 454
Müller-Lyer illusion, 455-456, 459
Münsterberg, 265, 571
Muscle sense, 225, 238-240
Music, 235;
liking for, 182-183, 291
Music deafness, 60
Native traits, 89-102, 297
Negative adaptation, 302-303, 310, 312, 413
Nerve, 26, 30, 32;
autonomic, 124-125;
cell, 31-36, 51, 414;
center, 26, 29-30, 49-66, 76, 82-84, 96, 107, 125, 293;
fiber, 32
Nervous system, 27-29, 32, 41, 124
Nesting, 105, 110-112
Neurone, 32-36, 51, 61, 346, 414-417
Newton, 212
Nicoll, 522
Nightmare, 504
Noise, 231, 236
Nonsense syllables, 334
Non-sensory recall, 373-375
Norsworthy, 20, 104, 522
Object blindness, 62
Objective observation in psychology, 9, 11-13
Observation, 267;
learning by, 317-320, 333-337, 348, 367-375
Obstruction, 162-163, 177, 534-559
Organic needs, responses to, 139-145
Organic sensations, 119-120, 128, 204
Organic state, 72-74, 79, 82, 119-126, 132-133, 175-176
Original nature, 91, 92, 98
Organization of the individual, 527, 529, 532, 558
Otolith, 192, 238
Overlapping, 324-325, 412
Overtones, 230, 438
Pain, 173, 198-201
Paired associates, 336, 347, 404
Paralysis, 57, 547
Parental instinct, 148-150
Parsons, 243
Path,
auditory, 62;
motor, 51-53, 62;
tactile, 62, 64
Pathological method, 16
Patterns, 204-205
Pechstein, 344
Perception, 45, 60, 62-63, 65-66, 419-459, 462, 465, 468, 475-476,
479, 520
Performance tests, 275-276
Perseveration, 355
Personality, 552-570
Perspective, 435, 441-442, 453-454
Phrenology, 52, 65, 293
Physiognomy, 445-446
Physiological limit, 321
Physiology, 6-7
Physique, 553
Piano theory of hearing, 234-235
Piéron, 342
Pillsbury, 270, 295
Pintner, 295
Pitch, 229-230, 450
Place associations, 304, 305, 315, 333
Plan, 483, 493, 539-540
Plateau, 322
Play, 139, 148, 151-152, 160, 485-499, 504-505, 517
Pleasantness and unpleasantness, 173-180, 184-185
Poffenberger, 20, 104, 243
Poggendorf illusion, 457, 459
Practice, 177, 298, 304-310, 314-317, 321-327, 360-363, 433, 538;
curve, 307, 316, 321, 325, 390, 542
Preparation for action, 22-25, 72, 74-77, 427-430
Preparatory reactions, 77-84, 111-112, 125-128, 132, 139-140, 145, 147
Prestige, 549
Prince, 559, 564, 569, 571
Problem solution, 385, 465, 469-470, 477, 514
Proofreader's illusion, 453
Protozoa, 39-40, 188, 302
Psychiatry, 16
Psychoanalysis, 505-508, 521, 533, 567-669
Psychology,
definition of, 1-2, 5-8, 17-18;
methods of, 9-16;
varieties, 2-6
Psychopathology, 16, 498, 540-541, 545-550, 567, 569
Punishment, 304-305
Purpose, 69-71, 75, 78, 524-527, 542
Puzzle experiment, 308-310, 315-319, 463-464
Pyle, 343
Pyramid cells, 51, 52, 61
Pyramidal tract, 52-55, 57, 62
Random activity, 151-152
Rationalization, 470-471, 531
Raynor, 331
Reaction, 22-26, 39-41, 45-49, 65-66, 68, 75, 84, 256, 262-263, 266,
423, 428;
acquired, 89-90, 94, 99-102;
delayed, 76-77, 429;
native, 89-102;
preparatory, 77-84, 111-112, 125-128, 132;
time, 22-24, 75, 424
Reading, 250-251, 258, 262, 267-268, 384, 427, 453, 512-513
Reaney, 522
Reasoning, 320, 422, 462-479, 520;
in animals, 310, 317-318, 463-464
Recall, 354-356, 366-385, 413, 422, 469-471, 500, 519, 563
Recency, 345, 356, 379, 390, 433, 511, 563
Recitation in memorizing, 339-341
Recognition, 187, 357-360
Red-green blindness, 210
Reflex, 24-26, 53, 107-109, 256, 297;
conditioned, 303-304;
control of, 54-55;
arc, 26-30, 34, 36-37;
centers, 30, 53
Relationships, response to, 286-287, 317, 320, 333-336, 345, 404-405,
432, 467-468, 520
Relief, 79, 84
Reproduction, instinct of, 116
Respiration, 37, 55, 141, 176, 527
Response by analogy, 405-406, 435, 452-455
Restlessness, 78-79, 112
Retention, 286, 302, 349-353, 360, 562
Retina, 191, 193, 195, 210-211, 233, 441-442
Revery, 376-380
Ribot, 571
Rivalry, 165-166, 474, 489, 543;
binocular, 253-254
Robinson, 522
Rods, 191, 226
Rotation, sense of, 236-238
Rosanoff, 20
Rote learning, 333, 337
Royce, 522
Ruger, 316
Sanford, 252
Satisfaction, 79, 84, 109-110, 132, 472, 487-499, 501-510, 513-517,
533-535, 540
Saturation of colors, 207-208, 213-214, 217
Scatter, 23, 273, 298, 448
Schopenhauer, 565
Science, 3-4, 473-475;
liking for, 181-182
Scott, 93, 551
Seashore, 295
Secondary personality, 559-561, 564
Selection, 256, 262. 378, 382
Self, 428, 555-558
Self-activity, 46-47
Self-assertion, 158, 161-169, 181, 183, 258-259, 287, 472-478,
489-496, 502-503, 508, 513, 515-516, 531, 536-537, 545-546, 549,
556-558
Self-criticism, 509-511
Selfishness, 557
Self-preservation, 115-116, 507
Semicircular canal, 192, 194, 195, 225, 236-238, 486
Sensation, 6, 19, 46, 60, 62-64, 120, 187-240;
and feeling, 173-174;
feeling-tone of, 174-175;
and perception, 423-425;
recall of, 368-376
Sense, cells, 189-192;
organs, 188-196, 199-200, 236-239, 249;
perception, 421-422
Sensory,
nerve, 27, 30, 32-34, 36-38, 188-189, 191, 193, 196, 239-240;
areas, 50, 59-66, 423
Setting of an object, 358
Sex,
attraction, 97, 116, 125, 147-148, 488, 507-508, 534-535;
differences, 281
Sex differences, 281
Shame, 166, 168
Shell shock, 504
Shifting of attention, 251-256
Short-circuiting in the process of learning, 338, 405, 568
Shyness, 166
Sight, 32, 34-35, 62, 191, 193-195, 204-228, 231-234, 441-443
Sign and meaning, 421, 437-446
Signal experiment, 304-305, 312
Similarity, association by, 395-396, 405-408
Size-weight illusion, 459-460
Skill, 55-59, 268, 282, 348, 352, 410-412, 428, 482, 488
Skin senses, 197-201, 224, 440, 451
Sleep, 145, 499-500
Smell, 29, 32, 62, 63, 190, 201, 203-204, 224
Snyder, 343
Sociability, 181, 183-184, 489, 492
Social, behavior, 145-151, 510. 552, 558-559;
perception, 444-446, 512, 555
Sociology, 5
Song of birds, 98-94
Sound, 228-231
Space, 439-443
Spaced repetition In learning, 341-343, 345, 390
Spaulding, 93
Span of attention, 261-262
Speech, 6, 60, 94, 98, 113, 154, 325, 402-403, 416;
centers, 57-62
Spinal cord, 29-33, 50, 52, 55, 64
Spite, 507
Staircase figure, 253
Starch, Daniel, 20, 331
Starr, 56
Statistical measures, 14-15, 280, 283-285
Stereoscope, 254, 442
Stiles, 44, 67
Stimulus, 22, 24, 26-27, 34, 40-41, 46-49, 188, 484-486, 500-501;
central, 48-49, 368, 371, 422, 468, 500, 528;
internal, 41, 47, 79, 119, 128, 132
Story-telling, 482-483
Straining, 162-163
Strong, 246, 351
Struggle for existence, 114
Subconscious minds, 563-564
Sublimation, 533-535
Submissive tendency, 166-169, 287, 516, 549
Substitute, response, 299-301, 305, 311, 328, 400, 409-413, 430,
436-437, 498-499, 533;
stimulus, 298, 300, 303, 311, 368, 371-372, 376, 400-409, 416, 434, 568
Suggestion, 546-650
Suppression, 505-508, 533, 566-567
Surprise, 155
Survival value, 114, 139, 148, 151, 160
Survivals, 127
Sustained attention, 257-260
Syllogism, 476-479
Symbols, 383, 468, 505-507
Symmetry, 444
Synapse, 34-35, 96, 414-416
Synesthesia, 376
Tact, 555
Taste, 189-190, 201-208, 224
Taussig, 522
Telegraphy, learning of, 321-323
Temperament, 553-554
Temperature, responses, 141-142;
sense, 197-201, 224-225
Tendency, 68-85, 109-112, 116, 130-135, 137-169, 177, 257, 263,
299-301, 309, 348, 367, 382, 392-393, 408-409, 417, 483-499,
501-510, 512-516, 528-546, 561
Terman, 272, 296
Testimony, 347, 352, 397
Tests, 3, 12, 14, 272-277, 281-283, 548
Thalamus, 56, 62, 64-65, 178
Thinking, 48-49, 319-320
Third dimension, 441-443
Thirst, 79-81, 120-121, 139-140, 179
Thorndike, 20, 104, 171, 331, 418
Thought and action, 539-541
Thrill, 489, 498-499
Thyroid gland, 123, 554
Timbre, 231
Time, 438-439, 447
Titchener, 186, 242, 270, 461
Touch, 50, 62, 63, 197-201;
spots, 198
Toys, 486-497
Training of memory, 360-363
Traits, native and acquired, 89-102
Transfer, 316-317, 361-362
Trial and error, 112, 305, 309, 311, 313, 315, 335, 392, 409, 424, 426,
430, 462-465, 526
Typewriting, learning of, 324-325, 411-412, 518, 525-526, 537
Unconscious, activity, 265-266, 383-384, 506-508, 525-526, 562-565;
emotion, 118-119;
feeling, 172;
motive, 565-569;
retention, 348-349, 562
Unintentional learning, 346-348
Utility,
of emotion, 125-127;
of instinct, 114, 144-145;
of reflexes, 125
Vacillation, 530
Variability, 23, 273, 298, 369, 447-448
Verification of hypotheses, 473-475
Visual,
area, 62;
images, 370;
perception, 441-443, 450;
sensations, 204-228, 231-234
Visualist, 370
Vocalization, 93-94, 154
Voluntary action, 298, 524-528
Vowels, 231
Walking, 95-97, 99, 153
Warming-up, 74, 119-120, 343, 391
Warren, 171, 242, 418, 461
Washburn, 19, 88, 331
Watson, 20, 88, 117, 171, 307, 308, 331, 571
Watt, 243
Weber's law, 449-450
Weight, perception of, 448-450, 459-460
Wells, 571
Whipple, 295, 365
White matter, 32, 35-36, 56, 62
Whitley, 20, 104, 522
Whole and part study, 343-346
Will, 523-550;
to learn, 346-348;
to live, 565
Wish, 496-497, 501-509, 565
Word
blindness, 62;
deafness, 59
Worry, 497-499
Wundt, 184
Yerkes, 104, 295
Young, 220
Youth, 147, 164, 495, 519
Zoellner illusion, 459