SUGGESTION
'The power of suggestion' is a plausible explanation of varied
phenomena. By it the feelings of a crowd are swayed, fashions are
spread, mistakes are made, and beliefs are imposed upon the multitude,
and in the production of hypnotic and hysterical manifestation the words
'power of suggestion' and 'personal magnetism' are sufficient
explanation of all things visible and invisible.
'Personal magnetism' and its kindred phrases implying the existence of
some subtle physical force are, except when used figuratively, mere
incoherences, but suggestion is an undoubted cause of certain effects
and we must try to understand the meaning of the word.
McDougall defines suggestion as 'a process of communication resulting in
the acceptance with conviction of the communicated proposition in the
absence of logical grounds for its acceptance'.[8]
[Footnote 8: _Social Psychology_, p. 97.]
Our thinking (apart from the observation of cause and effect in the
small affairs of ordinary life) is generally a matter of complexes,
logic being concerned only in rare cases; hence if we use the above
definition the greater part of our accepted propositions owe their
acceptance to suggestion. This is true as regards most of our political,
religious, and social beliefs, and, since children believe what they are
taught chiefly because the teacher says so, there does not seem much
opinion or knowledge of the abstract for which suggestion is not
accountable.
If a suggestion agrees with the complexes already existing in the mind
of the hearer then acceptance is likely to follow; this partly explains
the psychology of crowds and the power of oratory, which appeals to
emotions and prejudice rather than to reason. The knowledge that one's
fellows believe is sufficient to convince the ordinary man, and often
the existence of widespread belief is used as an argument to prove the
truth of a proposition. One recognises this tendency at once in people
of another race and other superstitions. An educated Chinese once
assured me that blood from those nearly related would mix if dropped
into a bowl of water, and drops from the veins of strangers would remain
apart, and that this test was used to decide cases of disputed
relationship. When I showed incredulity my friend assured me, 'It's
true, quite true, every one knows it.'
Within a day or two an Englishman, whilst discussing telegony, or the
influence of a first mating upon the progeny of subsequent pairings,
maintained that the widespread belief among dog-breeders in the
existence of this influence proved its truth, and my recollection of
the argument of my Chinese friend showed me how alike are the causes of
belief among all mankind.
Man tends to believe what his fellows believe and act as his fellows
act, and this tendency has been erected into an instinct by Trotter, who
shows how important the Herd Instinct is to all gregarious animals,
including man.[9]
[Footnote 9: _Instincts of the Herd in Peace and War._ T. Fisher Unwin.]
But if suggestion is to be made synonymous with the Herd Instinct it
explains too much, and we must seek to narrow its meaning or use another
word. It is already used in a somewhat special sense to account for the
acceptance of propositions which an ordinary man in his ordinary state
of mind would not accept, and especially is it used in relation to
abnormal states such as hypnosis and hysteria.
An authoritative and confident manner makes easy the acceptance of
suggestion, as every confidence-trick man knows; the writer of
advertisements or political articles knows it too, but in the last
example we see a new factor. The hardened Big-ender would be impervious
to the most imposing suggestions from a Little-endian source, but would
accept the saddest nonsense from a journal of his own party. We see here
an active desire to accept propositions that accord with a powerful
complex, and as complexes become more separated from the influence of
reason so this desire increases.
This I shall call 'receptivity', and to the term I shall give a further
meaning in the sense not only of desiring to accept propositions but of
anticipating or guessing them, of picking up hints as to what is in the
minds of the other persons concerned and reflecting them as if they
originated in the mind of the receiver.
In some cases of hysteria the patient presents a weak or paralysed limb,
and this limb is often so insensitive that pins may be pushed through
the skin without any manifestations of pain. This phenomenon, which
resembles the insensitive patches that under the name of 'Devil's claws'
were found upon witches when witchcraft was fashionable, has been long
known as a sign of hysteria. There is now a tendency to ascribe it to
suggestibility or, as I should prefer, to receptivity.
In the early stage of the disease some one examines the arm, pricks it,
and asks, 'Do you feel that?' It is my experience that the patient
sometimes flinches at the first prick, but answers 'No', and until this
newly-implanted belief is removed he never flinches again when the limb
is pricked.
The question is taken by the patient to mean that the doctor expects
that the prick will not be felt--or why should he ask? The hint is
accepted and the insensibility established, though its unreal nature is
shown by the fact that the patient is not especially disposed to burn or
injure the limb, unlike the sufferer from a true loss of sensation, who
is always liable to such an accident owing to the lack of the protective
sense of pain. I believe that this is the true explanation for many
cases, and put it forward as a good example of receptivity.
The insensitiveness is similarly explained by Babinski,[10] who uses a
different method of examination. He blindfolds the patient, who must not
have been subjected to a previous test, and stimulating him variously in
different places asks what he feels. This avoids the suggestion of loss
of sensation, and the result is that Babinski finds few examples of such
loss in cases where the 'Do you feel that?' method would produce many
positive results.
[Footnote 10: _Hysteria or Pithiatism and Nervous Troubles of Reflex
Order._ London University Press.]
It may also be explained by a dissociation of consciousness, in which
the split-off stream deals with the paralysed limb and therefore the
main stream of consciousness knows nothing about the prick. The
difference between the two theories is not so great as appears, for the
control of the supposed loss of sensation, once it is established, finds
its home in a split-off stream, and the process I describe is only a
stage in the dissociation.
I must admit, however, to seeing cases where a hysterical loss of voice
of long duration is accompanied by a loss of sensation in the throat
which is not explicable by receptivity, and it is possible for the
dissociation to be directly responsible for the loss.
Jung expresses sound views when he writes:--
'It should long ago have been realised that a suggestion is only
accepted by one it suits.... This pseudo-scientific talk about
suggestion is based upon the unconscious superstition that
suggestion actually possesses some magic power. No one succumbs to
suggestion unless from the very bottom of his heart he be willing
to co-operate.'[11]
[Footnote 11: _Analytical Psychology_, p. 469. Bailliere, Tindall & Cox,
1917.]
Whilst stripping suggestion of its magic I by no means deny its power.
Let one person at a dinner suggest that the fish is tainted and he will
generally have one or two supporters who would have eaten it without a
doubt of its freshness if no one had cast suspicion upon it; or let one
of a class of medical students say with sufficient assurance that he
hears a murmur over a patient's heart and, even if the heart sounds are
quite ordinary, others will hear it too.
There are conditions, such as fatigue or sleep, in which the effort
necessary to examine the truth of a proposition seems too great, and
suggestions are accepted which would be rejected in a state of fuller
consciousness. For example, I was awakened one night, when a hospital
resident, and told that one of my patients was very restless. I could
not remember the man, but asked a few questions about him and ordered a
soporific. Next morning on waking I became aware that I had no such
patient, and on enquiry found that I had been mistaken for another
resident whose slumbers had been undisturbed, thanks to my
suggestibility, for had I been fully awake I should have repudiated any
connection with the case. The confident manner of the messenger
assisted the suggestion, and I like to think that had there been a trick
intentionally played upon me even my sleepy consciousness might have
detected some warning change of tone.
Psychologists regard hypnotic suggestibility as only a further stage of
this sleepy non-resistance, but I see in the former a more active desire
to accept. Though suggestion might be further classified according to
the factors concerned in its acceptance, the class showing 'receptivity'
is the important one for our consideration.
There remains auto-suggestion to be considered; it is as difficult to
define as suggestion, but in the absence of any more precise term it
must be accepted as indicating certain mental processes.
The sensations felt in the arms and hands by the water-diviner or
table-turner are partly the result of auto-suggestion and partly of
muscular contractions, themselves produced by the same cause, and some
of the varied sensations of the hysteric are of similar origin. Creepy
feelings at the mention of snakes, and unpleasant sensations at the
thought of those 'minor horrors of war' that live in undergarments, are
further examples.
As far as the persons concerned are able to judge, the sensations are
often real enough, though it was long before I could believe that a
confirmed hysteric who complained of a severe pain really suffered from
that pain; the description of a water-diviner's sensations, given by
himself and quoted in another chapter, are such that one must believe in
the honesty of the writer.
One might say auto-suggestion arises from the unconscious or from a
dissociated stream of consciousness, and this would make it account for
hallucinations and obsessions, but here we must again take account of
borderline cases. The person who feels a cold shiver at the mention of a
snake cannot tell us precisely to what extent the shiver is due to
conscious thoughts, or whether he feels it just because he must; and the
feeling may be due to what he remembers being told about snakes, in
which case it would not be due to pure auto-suggestion.
The explanation of the success of suggestion in particular cases is to
be sought in the emotional state of the subject. When I was the victim,
as described above, my readiness to believe arose from my being
accustomed to nocturnal interruptions when my patients were in trouble
and also from my reliance on the hospital staff, my emotional state
being one of expectation and confidence. If to these influences are
added stronger emotional forces, such as wonder or terror, acceptance of
suggestion is still easier, and when people assembled together are
swayed by these feelings the Herd Instinct reaches its full strength and
we have the ingredients for the manufacture of a collective delusion.
There are many examples of strange and supernatural occurrences vouched
for by masses of observers, and I see no reason to doubt the good faith
of the historians. We all know how infectious is emotion and how hard it
is for one man to remain unmoved when around him are others all under
the influence of some excitement, and man always insists on finding
reasons for his feelings or objects for his emotions. When wonder or
terror are roused by the operation of the Herd Instinct, the individual,
not knowing their origin, projects them externally and seeks an object
for them. He is now ready to see or hear anything that will fit his
emotions, and when an object is suggested he will speedily accept its
existence as a reality.
I will give some further examples of suggestion in varying degrees of
strength. During the arrival of recently wounded men at a hospital in
France, I was in a ward with two eminent members of my profession and
another medical officer. As one man seemed bad the sister asked me to
see him at once; his left arm was paralysed, and he had a wound on the
head where in the brain beneath lies the 'motor area' of the left arm.
Looking at the wound, which was obscured by hair and blood, I said,
'That's pulsating'; the two consultants and the other officer agreed
with my observation, and appropriate treatment was recommended. The
importance of pulsation lies in the fact that it is a sign of the
exposure of brain substance, which pulsates strongly, and in this case
it signified the presence of a hole in the skull which allowed the
pulsation to appear; but in the operating theatre shortly afterwards the
skull was found intact, and therefore pulsation had not been present.
How did this joint error of observation arise? The combination of a
gunshot wound of the head with a paralysed limb may occur in connection
with a hole in the skull, and such penetrating wounds were common before
the introduction of helmets. My unconscious had worked out the
probabilities and led me to expect the signs of penetration; deceiving
myself, by my confident manner I imposed my belief upon my colleagues,
who had, I may assume, placed unjustified confidence in my reliability
as an observer; and we all saw that which was not.
Another example shows how ghost stories arise: A man related to me how
at the age of sixteen he was sleeping with his brother, and woke up to
see a ghostly face on the wall. So far we have an ordinary half-awake
hallucinatory condition, which is not uncommon; but the lad became
terrified and tried to cover his head to hide the sight, when the
brother woke up, and, being told of the face, promptly saw it too. The
brother's evidence is strongly corroborative, not of the presence of a
ghost, but of the power of suggestion when the way is prepared by strong
emotion. It may be remarked that the man was one of those nervous people
who fear the dark or being alone; seeing a ghost was not the cause of
his condition, but resulted from the inculcation of a belief in ghosts
in a person predisposed to fall a prey to his own unconscious.
The next example is a well-worn tale which has been quoted by Frank
Podmore, W. H. Myers, Sir William Barrett, and probably many others. I
take it from pages 62 and 63 of _Human Personality_, vol. i.[12]
[Footnote 12: Longmans & Co., London, 1903.]
It (the account) was given by Mr. Charles Lett on December 3, 1885, and
reads as follows:--
'On the 5th of April, 1873, my wife's father, Captain Towns, died
at his residence, Cranbrook, Rose Bay, near Sydney, New South
Wales. About six weeks after his death my wife had occasion, one
evening about nine o'clock, to go to one of the bedrooms in the
house. She was accompanied by a young lady, Miss Britton, and as
they entered the room--the gas was burning all the time--they were
amazed to see, reflected as it were upon the polished surface of
the wardrobe, the image of Captain Towns. It was barely
half-figure, the head, shoulders, and part of the arms only
showing--in fact it was like an ordinary medallion portrait, but
life-size. The face appeared wan and pale, as it did before his
death; he wore a kind of grey flannel jacket, in which he had been
accustomed to sleep. Surprised and half alarmed at what they saw,
their first idea was that a portrait had been hung in the room, and
that what they saw was its reflection, but there was no picture of
the kind.
'Whilst they were looking and wondering, my wife's sister, Miss
Towns, came into the room, and before either of the others had time
to speak, she exclaimed, "Good gracious! Do you see Papa?" One of
the housemaids happened to be passing downstairs at the moment and
she was called in, and asked if she saw anything, and her reply was
"Oh, Miss: the master." Graham--Captain Towns' old
body-servant--was then sent for, and he also exclaimed, "Oh, Lord
save us! Mrs. Lett, it's the Captain!" The butler was called, and
then Mrs. Crane, my wife's nurse, and they both said what they
saw. Finally Mrs. Towns was sent for, and, seeing the apparition,
she advanced towards it ... as she passed her hand over the panel
of the wardrobe the figure gradually faded away, and never again
appeared.
'These are the facts of the case, and they admit of no deceit; no
kind of intimation was given to any of the witnesses; the same
question was put to each one as they came into the room, and the
reply was given without hesitation by each.
'Mrs. Lett is positive that the recognition of the appearance on
the part of each of the later witnesses was _independent_, and not
due to any suggestion from the persons already in the room.'
Then follows a statement by two of the witnesses that this account is
correct.
In the lapse of twelve years between the incident and its narration a
story of this nature would have been re-told many times, and we know
what happens under such conditions. As the tale is given, however, it
reveals more than the narrator thinks it does.
Most interesting is the denial of suggestion when we have present all
the factors necessary for suggestion of the most powerful kind. Picture
Miss Towns coming into the room whilst the first two were 'looking and
wondering' (and not in silence, we may be sure, in spite of the words
'before either of the others had time to speak', which are interpolated
to strengthen the story); she straightway experiences the same emotion
as do the others and sees what they see. Now we have three emotional
people, and as each new witness is brought along the emotion increases
till it would require a very self-possessed and sceptical person to
resist its influence. The butler and the nurse simply _had_ to see the
ghost, though the account is a little ambiguous at that point.
'The same question was put to each one as they came into the room', but
is it likely that under such a condition of excitement enough
self-control was left to every individual to ensure that the same
question, _and nothing else_, was put to each newcomer? Such a thing
could only happen by careful pre-arrangement, which was lacking here,
and the writer's insistence shows that somewhere in his mind was present
the suspicion that suggestion had a hand in the production of the
unanimous evidence.
Mrs. Lett is equally insistent that the recognition was not due to any
suggestion from the persons already in the room, but she was unaware
that suggestion can occur without intent and that the most powerful
suggestion is that which is unintentional. Can we suppose that there
were no signs of wonder and awe on the faces of those present, no
excited exclamations, no glances towards the wardrobe, no pointing of
hands: only a few calm and self-possessed people asking each newcomer if
he or she saw anything? If two or three people tried by suggestion to
persuade others to see a ghost they would not be able to reach the
emotional state of the actors in this scene, and the intentional effort
at suggestion would have a good chance of failure.
The minute account of the apparition, given by some one who was not
present, and told as if it were the result of the immediate observations
of the first two witnesses, has been influenced by discussion after the
incident and is itself another product of suggestion. The narrator has
over-shot the mark in his protest against the possibility of suggestion,
and has produced a story in which the apparition is not the only
improbability.
I have given this analysis because the story is quoted repeatedly by
writers on the spiritualist side, and until one examines it critically
it appears convincing.
The rumour of the Russian troops passing through England in September,
1914, will go down in history as a proof that mass credulity was then as
powerful as ever. The rumour, however it began, was aided by the usual
forces: Herd Instinct (for what every one believed was felt to be true),
the desire to believe in what we wanted to happen, and the desire to be
personally connected with important events. The last factor was shown by
the number of people who claimed to have personal experience of the
transit of the Russian reinforcements; every one had seen the troops or
knew some one who had. One of my friends, a man eminent in a profession
which demands clear thinking, told me that his own brother-in-law was
responsible for arrangements for their railway transport.
The reader will see in this rumour a perfect example of the working of
suggestion in a case familiar to every one, and if the lesson is borne
in mind a list of believers in some unnatural occurrence will not
necessarily carry conviction.