{"collection":"philosophy-ethics","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/wikisource_The_Analysis_of_Mind_Lecture_I/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/wikisource_The_Analysis_of_Mind_Lecture_I","id":"wikisource_The_Analysis_of_Mind_Lecture_I","license":"Public Domain / CC-BY-SA (see source)","rights_basis":"wikisource_site_inclusion_policy","source":"wikisource","source_url":"https://en.wikisource.org/wiki/The_Analysis_of_Mind/Lecture_I","summary":null,"tags":["Headers_applying_DefaultSort_key","Subpages"],"text":"There are certain occurrences which we are in the habit of\ncalling \"mental.\" Among these we may take as typical BELIEVING\nand DESIRING. The exact definition of the word \"mental\" will, I\nhope, emerge as the lectures proceed; for the present, I shall\nmean by it whatever occurrences would commonly be called mental.\n\nI wish in these lectures to analyse as fully as I can what it is\nthat really takes place when we, e.g. believe or desire. In this\nfirst lecture I shall be concerned to refute a theory which is\nwidely held, and which I formerly held myself: the theory that\nthe essence of everything mental is a certain quite peculiar\nsomething called \"consciousness,\" conceived either as a relation\nto objects, or as a pervading quality of psychical phenomena.\n\nThe reasons which I shall give against this theory will be mainly\nderived from previous authors. There are two sorts of reasons,\nwhich will divide my lecture into two parts\n\n(1) Direct reasons, derived from analysis and its difficulties;\n\n(2) Indirect reasons, derived from observation of animals (comparative psychology) and of the insane and hysterical (psycho-analysis).\n\nFew things are more firmly established in popular philosophy than\nthe distinction between mind and matter. Those who are not\nprofessional metaphysicians are willing to confess that they do\nnot know what mind actually is, or how matter is constituted; but\nthey remain convinced that there is an impassable gulf between\nthe two, and that both belong to what actually exists in the\nworld. Philosophers, on the other hand, have maintained often\nthat matter is a mere fiction imagined by mind, and sometimes\nthat mind is a mere property of a certain kind of matter. Those\nwho maintain that mind is the reality and matter an evil dream\nare called \"idealists\"--a word which has a different meaning in\nphilosophy from that which it bears in ordinary life. Those who\nargue that matter is the reality and mind a mere property of\nprotoplasm are called \"materialists.\" They have been rare among\nphilosophers, but common, at certain periods, among men of\nscience. Idealists, materialists, and ordinary mortals have been\nin agreement on one point: that they knew sufficiently what they\nmeant by the words \"mind\" and \"matter\" to be able to conduct\ntheir debate intelligently. Yet it was just in this point, as to\nwhich they were at one, that they seem to me to have been all\nalike in error.\n\nThe stuff of which the world of our experience is composed is, in\nmy belief, neither mind nor matter, but something more primitive\nthan either. Both mind and matter seem to be composite, and the\nstuff of which they are compounded lies in a sense between the\ntwo, in a sense above them both, like a common ancestor. As\nregards matter, I have set forth my reasons for this view on\nformer occasions, and I shall not now repeat them. But the\nquestion of mind is more difficult, and it is this question that\nI propose to discuss in these lectures. A great deal of what I\nshall have to say is not original; indeed, much recent work, in\nvarious fields, has tended to show the necessity of such theories\nas those which I shall be advocating. Accordingly in this first\nlecture I shall try to give a brief description of the systems of\nideas within which our investigation is to be carried on.\n\nIf there is one thing that may be said, in the popular\nestimation, to characterize mind, that one thing is\n\"consciousness.\" We say that we are \"conscious\" of what we see\nand hear, of what we remember, and of our own thoughts and\nfeelings. Most of us believe that tables and chairs are not\n\"conscious.\" We think that when we sit in a chair, we are aware\nof sitting in it, but it is not aware of being sat in. It cannot\nfor a moment be doubted that we are right in believing that there\nis SOME difference between us and the chair in this respect: so\nmuch may be taken as fact, and as a datum for our inquiry. But as\nsoon as we try to say what exactly the difference is, we become\ninvolved in perplexities. Is \"consciousness\" ultimate and simple,\nsomething to be merely accepted and contemplated? Or is it\nsomething complex, perhaps consisting in our way of behaving in\nthe presence of objects, or, alternatively, in the existence in\nus of things called \"ideas,\" having a certain relation to\nobjects, though different from them, and only symbolically\nrepresentative of them? Such questions are not easy to answer;\nbut until they are answered we cannot profess to know what we\nmean by saying that we are possessed of \"consciousness.\"\n\nBefore considering modern theories, let us look first at\nconsciousness from the standpoint of conventional psychology,\nsince this embodies views which naturally occur when we begin to\nreflect upon the subject. For this purpose, let us as a\npreliminary consider different ways of being conscious.\n\nFirst, there is the way of PERCEPTION. We \"perceive\" tables and\nchairs, horses and dogs, our friends, traffic passing in the\nstreet--in short, anything which we recognize through the senses.\nI leave on one side for the present the question whether pure\nsensation is to be regarded as a form of consciousness: what I am\nspeaking of now is perception, where, according to conventional\npsychology, we go beyond the sensation to the \"thing\" which it\nrepresents. When you hear a donkey bray, you not only hear a\nnoise, but realize that it comes from a donkey. When you see a\ntable, you not only see a coloured surface, but realize that it\nis hard. The addition of these elements that go beyond crude\nsensation is said to constitute perception. We shall have more to\nsay about this at a later stage. For the moment, I am merely\nconcerned to note that perception of objects is one of the most\nobvious examples of what is called \"consciousness.\" We are\n\"conscious\" of anything that we perceive.\n\nWe may take next the way of MEMORY. If I set to work to recall\nwhat I did this morning, that is a form of consciousness\ndifferent from perception, since it is concerned with the past.\nThere are various problems as to how we can be conscious now of\nwhat no longer exists. These will be dealt with incidentally when\nwe come to the analysis of memory.\n\nFrom memory it is an easy step to what are called \"ideas\"--not in\nthe Platonic sense, but in that of Locke, Berkeley and Hume, in\nwhich they are opposed to \"impressions.\" You may be conscious of\na friend either by seeing him or by \"thinking\" of him; and by\n\"thought\" you can be conscious of objects which cannot be seen,\nsuch as the human race, or physiology. \"Thought\" in the narrower\nsense is that form of consciousness which consists in \"ideas\" as\nopposed to impressions or mere memories.\n\nWe may end our preliminary catalogue with BELIEF, by which I mean\nthat way of being conscious which may be either true or false. We\nsay that a man is \"conscious of looking a fool,\" by which we mean\nthat he believes he looks a fool, and is not mistaken in this\nbelief. This is a different form of consciousness from any of the\nearlier ones. It is the form which gives \"knowledge\" in the\nstrict sense, and also error. It is, at least apparently, more\ncomplex than our previous forms of consciousness; though we shall\nfind that they are not so separable from it as they might appear\nto be.\n\nBesides ways of being conscious there are other things that would\nordinarily be called \"mental,\" such as desire and pleasure and\npain. These raise problems of their own, which we shall reach in\nLecture III. But the hardest problems are those that arise\nconcerning ways of being \"conscious.\" These ways, taken together,\nare called the \"cognitive\" elements in mind, and it is these that\nwill occupy us most during the following lectures.\n\nThere is one element which SEEMS obviously in common among the\ndifferent ways of being conscious, and that is, that they are all\ndirected to OBJECTS. We are conscious \"of\" something. The\nconsciousness, it seems, is one thing, and that of which we are\nconscious is another thing. Unless we are to acquiesce in the\nview that we can never be conscious of anything outside our own\nminds, we must say that the object of consciousness need not be\nmental, though the consciousness must be. (I am speaking within\nthe circle of conventional doctrines, not expressing my own\nbeliefs.) This direction towards an object is commonly regarded\nas typical of every form of cognition, and sometimes of mental\nlife altogether. We may distinguish two different tendencies in\ntraditional psychology. There are those who take mental phenomena\nnaively, just as they would physical phenomena. This school of\npsychologists tends not to emphasize the object. On the other\nhand, there are those whose primary interest is in the apparent\nfact that we have KNOWLEDGE, that there is a world surrounding us\nof which we are aware. These men are interested in the mind\nbecause of its relation to the world, because knowledge, if it is\na fact, is a very mysterious one. Their interest in psychology is\nnaturally centred in the relation of consciousness to its object,\na problem which, properly, belongs rather to theory of knowledge.\nWe may take as one of the best and most typical representatives\nof this school the Austrian psychologist Brentano, whose\n\"Psychology from the Empirical Standpoint,\" though published in\n1874, is still influential and was the starting-point of a great\ndeal of interesting work. He says (p. 115):\n\n\"Every psychical phenomenon is characterized by what the\nscholastics of the Middle Ages called the intentional (also the\nmental) inexistence of an object, and what we, although with not\nquite unambiguous expressions, would call relation to a content,\ndirection towards an object (which is not here to be understood\nas a reality), or immanent objectivity. Each contains something\nin itself as an object, though not each in the same way. In\npresentation something is presented, in judgment something is\nacknowledged or rejected, in love something is loved, in hatred\nhated, in desire desired, and so on.\n\n\"This intentional inexistence is exclusively peculiar to\npsychical phenomena. No physical phenomenon shows anything\nsimilar. And so we can define psychical phenomena by saying that\nthey are phenomena which intentionally contain an object in\nthemselves.\"\n\nThe view here expressed, that relation to an object is an\nultimate irreducible characteristic of mental phenomena, is one\nwhich I shall be concerned to combat. Like Brentano, I am\ninterested in psychology, not so much for its own sake, as for\nthe light that it may throw on the problem of knowledge. Until\nvery lately I believed, as he did, that mental phenomena have\nessential reference to objects, except possibly in the case of\npleasure and pain. Now I no longer believe this, even in the case\nof knowledge. I shall try to make my reasons for this rejection\nclear as we proceed. It must be evident at first glance that the\nanalysis of knowledge is rendered more difficult by the\nrejection; but the apparent simplicity of Brentano's view of\nknowledge will be found, if I am not mistaken, incapable of\nmaintaining itself either against an analytic scrutiny or against\na host of facts in psycho-analysis and animal psychology. I do\nnot wish to minimize the problems. I will merely observe, in\nmitigation of our prospective labours, that thinking, however it\nis to be analysed, is in itself a delightful occupation, and that\nthere is no enemy to thinking so deadly as a false simplicity.\nTravelling, whether in the mental or the physical world, is a\njoy, and it is good to know that, in the mental world at least,\nthere are vast countries still very imperfectly explored.\n\nThe view expressed by Brentano has been held very generally, and\ndeveloped by many writers. Among these we may take as an example\nhis Austrian successor Meinong. According to him there are three\nelements involved in the thought of an object. These three he\ncalls the act, the content and the object. The act is the same in\nany two cases of the same kind of consciousness; for instance, if\nI think of Smith or think of Brown, the act of thinking, in\nitself, is exactly similar on both occasions. But the content of\nmy thought, the particular event that is happening in my mind, is\ndifferent when I think of Smith and when I think of Brown. The\ncontent, Meinong argues, must not be confounded with the object,\nsince the content must exist in my mind at the moment when I have\nthe thought, whereas the object need not do so. The object may be\nsomething past or future; it may be physical, not mental; it may\nbe something abstract, like equality for example; it may be\nsomething imaginary, like a golden mountain; or it may even be\nsomething self-contradictory, like a round square. But in all\nthese cases, so he contends, the content exists when the thought\nexists, and is what distinguishes it, as an occurrence, from\nother thoughts.\n\nTo make this theory concrete, let us suppose that you are\nthinking of St. Paul's. Then, according to Meinong, we have to\ndistinguish three elements which are necessarily combined in\nconstituting the one thought. First, there is the act of\nthinking, which would be just the same whatever you were thinking\nabout. Then there is what makes the character of the thought as\ncontrasted with other thoughts; this is the content. And finally\nthere is St. Paul's, which is the object of your thought. There\nmust be a difference between the content of a thought and what it\nis about, since the thought is here and now, whereas what it is\nabout may not be; hence it is clear that the thought is not\nidentical with St. Paul's. This seems to show that we must\ndistinguish between content and object. But if Meinong is right,\nthere can be no thought without an object: the connection of the\ntwo is essential. The object might exist without the thought, but\nnot the thought without the object: the three elements of act,\ncontent and object are all required to constitute the one single\noccurrence called \"thinking of St. Paul's.\"\n\nThe above analysis of a thought, though I believe it to be\nmistaken, is very useful as affording a schema in terms of which\nother theories can be stated. In the remainder of the present\nlecture I shall state in outline the view which I advocate, and\nshow how various other views out of which mine has grown result\nfrom modifications of the threefold analysis into act, content\nand object.\n\nThe first criticism I have to make is that the ACT seems\nunnecessary and fictitious. The occurrence of the content of a\nthought constitutes the occurrence of the thought. Empirically, I\ncannot discover anything corresponding to the supposed act; and\ntheoretically I cannot see that it is indispensable. We say: \"_I_\nthink so-and-so,\" and this word \"I\" suggests that thinking is the\nact of a person. Meinong's \"act\" is the ghost of the subject, or\nwhat once was the full-blooded soul. It is supposed that thoughts\ncannot just come and go, but need a person to think them. Now, of\ncourse it is true that thoughts can be collected into bundles, so\nthat one bundle is my thoughts, another is your thoughts, and a\nthird is the thoughts of Mr. Jones. But I think the person is not\nan ingredient in the single thought: he is rather constituted by\nrelations of the thoughts to each other and to the body. This is\na large question, which need not, in its entirety, concern us at\npresent. All that I am concerned with for the moment is that the\ngrammatical forms \"I think,\" \"you think,\" and \"Mr. Jones thinks,\"\nare misleading if regarded as indicating an analysis of a single\nthought. It would be better to say \"it thinks in me,\" like \"it\nrains here\"; or better still, \"there is a thought in me.\" This is\nsimply on the ground that what Meinong calls the act in thinking\nis not empirically discoverable, or logically deducible from what\nwe can observe.\n\nThe next point of criticism concerns the relation of content and\nobject. The reference of thoughts to objects is not, I believe,\nthe simple direct essential thing that Brentano and Meinong\nrepresent it as being. It seems to me to be derivative, and to\nconsist largely in BELIEFS: beliefs that what constitutes the\nthought is connected with various other elements which together\nmake up the object. You have, say, an image of St. Paul's, or\nmerely the word \"St. Paul's\" in your head. You believe, however\nvaguely and dimly, that this is connected with what you would see\nif you went to St. Paul's, or what you would feel if you touched\nits walls; it is further connected with what other people see and\nfeel, with services and the Dean and Chapter and Sir Christopher\nWren. These things are not mere thoughts of yours, but your\nthought stands in a relation to them of which you are more or\nless aware. The awareness of this relation is a further thought,\nand constitutes your feeling that the original thought had an\n\"object.\" But in pure imagination you can get very similar\nthoughts without these accompanying beliefs; and in this case\nyour thoughts do not have objects or seem to have them. Thus in\nsuch instances you have content without object. On the other\nhand, in seeing or hearing it would be less misleading to say\nthat you have object without content, since what you see or hear\nis actually part of the physical world, though not matter in the\nsense of physics. Thus the whole question of the relation of\nmental occurrences to objects grows very complicated, and cannot\nbe settled by regarding reference to objects as of the essence of\nthoughts. All the above remarks are merely preliminary, and will\nbe expanded later.\n\nSpeaking in popular and unphilosophical terms, we may say that\nthe content of a thought is supposed to be something in your head\nwhen you think the thought, while the object is usually something\nin the outer world. It is held that knowledge of the outer world\nis constituted by the relation to the object, while the fact that\nknowledge is different from what it knows is due to the fact that\nknowledge comes by way of contents. We can begin to state the\ndifference between realism and idealism in terms of this\nopposition of contents and objects. Speaking quite roughly and\napproximately, we may say that idealism tends to suppress the\nobject, while realism tends to suppress the content. Idealism,\naccordingly, says that nothing can be known except thoughts, and\nall the reality that we know is mental; while realism maintains\nthat we know objects directly, in sensation certainly, and\nperhaps also in memory and thought. Idealism does not say that\nnothing can be known beyond the present thought, but it maintains\nthat the context of vague belief, which we spoke of in connection\nwith the thought of St. Paul's, only takes you to other thoughts,\nnever to anything radically different from thoughts. The\ndifficulty of this view is in regard to sensation, where it seems\nas if we came into direct contact with the outer world. But the\nBerkeleian way of meeting this difficulty is so familiar that I\nneed not enlarge upon it now. I shall return to it in a later\nlecture, and will only observe, for the present, that there seem\nto me no valid grounds for regarding what we see and hear as not\npart of the physical world.\n\nRealists, on the other hand, as a rule, suppress the content, and\nmaintain that a thought consists either of act and object alone,\nor of object alone. I have been in the past a realist, and I\nremain a realist as regards sensation, but not as regards memory\nor thought. I will try to explain what seem to me to be the\nreasons for and against various kinds of realism.\n\nModern idealism professes to be by no means confined to the\npresent thought or the present thinker in regard to its\nknowledge; indeed, it contends that the world is so organic, so\ndove-tailed, that from any one portion the whole can be inferred,\nas the complete skeleton of an extinct animal can be inferred\nfrom one bone. But the logic by which this supposed organic\nnature of the world is nominally demonstrated appears to\nrealists, as it does to me, to be faulty. They argue that, if we\ncannot know the physical world directly, we cannot really know\nany thing outside our own minds: the rest of the world may be\nmerely our dream. This is a dreary view, and they there fore seek\nways of escaping from it. Accordingly they maintain that in\nknowledge we are in direct contact with objects, which may be,\nand usually are, outside our own minds. No doubt they are\nprompted to this view, in the first place, by bias, namely, by\nthe desire to think that they can know of the existence of a\nworld outside themselves. But we have to consider, not what led\nthem to desire the view, but whether their arguments for it are\nvalid.\n\nThere are two different kinds of realism, according as we make a\nthought consist of act and object, or of object alone. Their\ndifficulties are different, but neither seems tenable all\nthrough. Take, for the sake of definiteness, the remembering of a\npast event. The remembering occurs now, and is therefore\nnecessarily not identical with the past event. So long as we\nretain the act, this need cause no difficulty. The act of\nremembering occurs now, and has on this view a certain essential\nrelation to the past event which it remembers. There is no\nLOGICAL objection to this theory, but there is the objection,\nwhich we spoke of earlier, that the act seems mythical, and is\nnot to be found by observation. If, on the other hand, we try to\nconstitute memory without the act, we are driven to a content,\nsince we must have something that happens NOW, as opposed to the\nevent which happened in the past. Thus, when we reject the act,\nwhich I think we must, we are driven to a theory of memory which\nis more akin to idealism. These arguments, however, do not apply\nto sensation. It is especially sensation, I think, which is\nconsidered by those realists who retain only the object. Their\nviews, which are chiefly held in America, are in large measure\nderived from William James, and before going further it will be\nwell to consider the revolutionary doctrine which he advocated. I\nbelieve this doctrine contains important new truth, and what I\nshall have to say will be in a considerable measure inspired by\nit.\n\nWilliam James's view was first set forth in an essay called \"Does\n'consciousness' exist?\" In this essay he explains how what used\nto be the soul has gradually been refined down to the\n\"transcendental ego,\" which, he says, \"attenuates itself to a\nthoroughly ghostly condition, being only a name for the fact that\nthe 'content' of experience IS KNOWN. It loses personal form and\nactivity--these passing over to the content--and becomes a bare\nBewusstheit or Bewusstsein uberhaupt, of which in its own right\nabsolutely nothing can be said. I believe (he continues) that\n'consciousness,' when once it has evaporated to this estate of\npure diaphaneity, is on the point of disappearing altogether. It\nis the name of a nonentity, and has no right to a place among\nfirst principles. Those who still cling to it are clinging to a\nmere echo, the faint rumour left behind by the disappearing\n'soul' upon the air of philosophy\"(p. 2).\n\nHe explains that this is no sudden change in his opinions. \"For\ntwenty years past,\" he says, \"I have mistrusted 'consciousness'\nas an entity; for seven or eight years past I have suggested its\nnon-existence to my students, and tried to give them its\npragmatic equivalent in realities of experience. It seems to me\nthat the hour is ripe for it to be openly and universally\ndiscarded\"(p. 3).\n\nHis next concern is to explain away the air of paradox, for James\nwas never wilfully paradoxical. \"Undeniably,\" he says,\n\"'thoughts' do exist.\" \"I mean only to deny that the word stands\nfor an entity, but to insist most emphatically that it does stand\nfor a function. There is, I mean, no aboriginal stuff or quality\nof being, contrasted with that of which material objects are\nmade, out of which our thoughts of them are made; but there is a\nfunction in experience which thoughts perform, and for the\nperformance of which this quality of being is invoked. That\nfunction is KNOWING\"(pp. 3-4).\n\nJames's view is that the raw material out of which the world is\nbuilt up is not of two sorts, one matter and the other mind, but\nthat it is arranged in different patterns by its inter-relations,\nand that some arrangements may be called mental, while others may\nbe called physical.\n\n\"My thesis is,\" he says, \"that if we start with the supposition\nthat there is only one primal stuff or material in the world, a\nstuff of which everything is composed, and if we call that stuff\n'pure experience,' then knowing can easily be explained as a\nparticular sort of relation towards one another into which\nportions of pure experience may enter. The relation itself is a\npart of pure experience; one of its 'terms' becomes the subject\nor bearer of the knowledge, the knower, the other becomes the\nobject known\"(p. 4).\n\nAfter mentioning the duality of subject and object, which is\nsupposed to constitute consciousness, he proceeds in italics:\n\"EXPERIENCE, I BELIEVE, HAS NO SUCH INNER DUPLICITY; AND THE SEPARATION OF IT INTO CONSCIOUSNESS AND CONTENT COMES, NOT BY WAY OF SUBTRACTION, BUT BY WAY OF ADDITION\"(p. 9).\n\nHe illustrates his meaning by the analogy of paint as it appears\nin a paint-shop and as it appears in a picture: in the one case\nit is just \"saleable matter,\" while in the other it \"performs a\nspiritual function. Just so, I maintain (he continues), does a\ngiven undivided portion of experience, taken in one context of\nassociates, play the part of a knower, of a state of mind, of\n'consciousness'; while in a different context the same undivided\nbit of experience plays the part of a thing known, of an\nobjective 'content.' In a word, in one group it figures as a\nthought, in another group as a thing\"(pp. 9-10).\n\nHe does not believe in the supposed immediate certainty of\nthought. \"Let the case be what it may in others,\" he says, \"I am\nas confident as I am of anything that, in myself, the stream of\nthinking (which I recognize emphatically as a phenomenon) is only\na careless name for what, when scrutinized, reveals itself to\nconsist chiefly of the stream of my breathing. The 'I think'\nwhich Kant said must be able to accompany all my objects, is the\n'I breathe' which actually does accompany them\"(pp. 36-37).\n\nThe same view of \"consciousness\" is set forth in the succeeding\nessay, \"A World of Pure Experience\" (ib., pp. 39-91). The use of\nthe phrase \"pure experience\" in both essays points to a lingering\ninfluence of idealism. \"Experience,\" like \"consciousness,\" must\nbe a product, not part of the primary stuff of the world. It must\nbe possible, if James is right in his main contentions, that\nroughly the same stuff, differently arranged, would not give rise\nto anything that could be called \"experience.\" This word has been\ndropped by the American realists, among whom we may mention\nspecially Professor R. B. Perry of Harvard and Mr. Edwin B. Holt.\nThe interests of this school are in general philosophy and the\nphilosophy of the sciences, rather than in psychology; they have\nderived a strong impulsion from James, but have more interest\nthan he had in logic and mathematics and the abstract part of\nphilosophy. They speak of \"neutral\" entities as the stuff out of\nwhich both mind and matter are constructed. Thus Holt says: \"If\nthe terms and propositions of logic must be substantialized, they\nare all strictly of one substance, for which perhaps the least\ndangerous name is neutral- stuff. The relation of neutral-stuff\nto matter and mind we shall have presently to consider at\nconsiderable length.\"\n\nMy own belief--for which the reasons will appear in subsequent\nlectures--is that James is right in rejecting consciousness as an\nentity, and that the American realists are partly right, though\nnot wholly, in considering that both mind and matter are composed\nof a neutral-stuff which, in isolation, is neither mental nor\nmaterial. I should admit this view as regards sensations: what is\nheard or seen belongs equally to psychology and to physics. But I\nshould say that images belong only to the mental world, while\nthose occurrences (if any) which do not form part of any\n\"experience\" belong only to the physical world. There are, it\nseems to me, prima facie different kinds of causal laws, one\nbelonging to physics and the other to psychology. The law of\ngravitation, for example, is a physical law, while the law of\nassociation is a psychological law. Sensations are subject to\nboth kinds of laws, and are therefore truly \"neutral\" in Holt's\nsense. But entities subject only to physical laws, or only to\npsychological laws, are not neutral, and may be called\nrespectively purely material and purely mental. Even those,\nhowever, which are purely mental will not have that intrinsic\nreference to objects which Brentano assigns to them and which\nconstitutes the essence of \"consciousness\" as ordinarily\nunderstood. But it is now time to pass on to other modern\ntendencies, also hostile to \"consciousness.\"\n\nThere is a psychological school called \"Behaviourists,\" of whom\nthe protagonist is Professor John B. Watson, formerly of the\nJohns Hopkins University. To them also, on the whole, belongs\nProfessor John Dewey, who, with James and Dr. Schiller, was one\nof the three founders of pragmatism. The view of the\n\"behaviourists\" is that nothing can be known except by external\nobservation. They deny altogether that there is a separate source\nof knowledge called \"introspection,\" by which we can know things\nabout ourselves which we could never observe in others. They do\nnot by any means deny that all sorts of things MAY go on in our\nminds: they only say that such things, if they occur, are not\nsusceptible of scientific observation, and do not therefore\nconcern psychology as a science. Psychology as a science, they\nsay, is only concerned with BEHAVIOUR, i.e. with what we DO; this\nalone, they contend, can be accurately observed. Whether we think\nmeanwhile, they tell us, cannot be known; in their observation of\nthe behaviour of human beings, they have not so far found any\nevidence of thought. True, we talk a great deal, and imagine that\nin so doing we are showing that we can think; but behaviourists\nsay that the talk they have to listen to can be explained without\nsupposing that people think. Where you might expect a chapter on\n\"thought processes\" you come instead upon a chapter on \"The\nLanguage Habit.\" It is humiliating to find how terribly adequate\nthis hypothesis turns out to be.\n\nBehaviourism has not, however, sprung from observing the folly of\nmen. It is the wisdom of animals that has suggested the view. It\nhas always been a common topic of popular discussion whether\nanimals \"think.\" On this topic people are prepared to take sides\nwithout having the vaguest idea what they mean by \"thinking.\"\nThose who desired to investigate such questions were led to\nobserve the behaviour of animals, in the hope that their\nbehaviour would throw some light on their mental faculties. At\nfirst sight, it might seem that this is so. People say that a dog\n\"knows\" its name because it comes when it is called, and that it\n\"remembers\" its master, because it looks sad in his absence, but\nwags its tail and barks when he returns. That the dog behaves in\nthis way is matter of observation, but that it \"knows\" or\n\"remembers\" anything is an inference, and in fact a very doubtful\none. The more such inferences are examined, the more precarious\nthey are seen to be. Hence the study of animal behaviour has been\ngradually led to abandon all attempt at mental interpretation.\nAnd it can hardly be doubted that, in many cases of complicated\nbehaviour very well adapted to its ends, there can be no\nprevision of those ends. The first time a bird builds a nest, we\ncan hardly suppose it knows that there will be eggs to be laid in\nit, or that it will sit on the eggs, or that they will hatch into\nyoung birds. It does what it does at each stage because instinct\ngives it an impulse to do just that, not because it foresees and\ndesires the result of its actions.\n\nCareful observers of animals, being anxious to avoid precarious\ninferences, have gradually discovered more and more how to give\nan account of the actions of animals without assuming what we\ncall \"consciousness.\" It has seemed to the behaviourists that\nsimilar methods can be applied to human behaviour, without\nassuming anything not open to external observation. Let us give a\ncrude illustration, too crude for the authors in question, but\ncapable of affording a rough insight into their meaning. Suppose\ntwo children in a school, both of whom are asked \"What is six\ntimes nine?\" One says fifty-four, the other says fifty-six. The\none, we say, \"knows\" what six times nine is, the other does not.\nBut all that we can observe is a certain language-habit. The one\nchild has acquired the habit of saying \"six times nine is\nfifty-four\"; the other has not. There is no more need of\n\"thought\" in this than there is when a horse turns into his\naccustomed stable; there are merely more numerous and complicated\nhabits. There is obviously an observable fact called \"knowing\"\nsuch-and-such a thing; examinations are experiments for\ndiscovering such facts. But all that is observed or discovered is\na certain set of habits in the use of words. The thoughts (if\nany) in the mind of the examinee are of no interest to the\nexaminer; nor has the examiner any reason to suppose even the\nmost successful examinee capable of even the smallest amount of\nthought.\n\nThus what is called \"knowing,\" in the sense in which we can\nascertain what other people \"know,\" is a phenomenon exemplified\nin their physical behaviour, including spoken and written words.\nThere is no reason--so Watson argues--to suppose that their\nknowledge IS anything beyond the habits shown in this behaviour:\nthe inference that other people have something nonphysical called\n\"mind\" or \"thought\" is therefore unwarranted.\n\nSo far, there is nothing particularly repugnant to our prejudices\nin the conclusions of the behaviourists. We are all willing to\nadmit that other people are thoughtless. But when it comes to\nourselves, we feel convinced that we can actually perceive our\nown thinking. \"Cogito, ergo sum\" would be regarded by most people\nas having a true premiss. This, however, the behaviourist denies.\nHe maintains that our knowledge of ourselves is no different in\nkind from our knowledge of other people. We may see MORE, because\nour own body is easier to observe than that of other people; but\nwe do not see anything radically unlike what we see of others.\nIntrospection, as a separate source of knowledge, is entirely\ndenied by psychologists of this school. I shall discuss this\nquestion at length in a later lecture; for the present I will\nonly observe that it is by no means simple, and that, though I\nbelieve the behaviourists somewhat overstate their case, yet\nthere is an important element of truth in their contention, since\nthe things which we can discover by introspection do not seem to\ndiffer in any very fundamental way from the things which we\ndiscover by external observation.\n\nSo far, we have been principally concerned with knowing. But it\nmight well be maintained that desiring is what is really most\ncharacteristic of mind. Human beings are constantly engaged in\nachieving some end they feel pleasure in success and pain in\nfailure. In a purely material world, it may be said, there would\nbe no opposition of pleasant and unpleasant, good and bad, what\nis desired and what is feared. A man's acts are governed by\npurposes. He decides, let us suppose, to go to a certain place,\nwhereupon he proceeds to the station, takes his ticket and enters\nthe train. If the usual route is blocked by an accident, he goes\nby some other route. All that he does is determined--or so it\nseems--by the end he has in view, by what lies in front of him,\nrather than by what lies behind. With dead matter, this is not\nthe case. A stone at the top of a hill may start rolling, but it\nshows no pertinacity in trying to get to the bottom. Any ledge or\nobstacle will stop it, and it will exhibit no signs of discontent\nif this happens. It is not attracted by the pleasantness of the\nvalley, as a sheep or cow might be, but propelled by the\nsteepness of the hill at the place where it is. In all this we\nhave characteristic differences between the behaviour of animals\nand the behaviour of matter as studied by physics.\n\nDesire, like knowledge, is, of course, in one sense an observable\nphenomenon. An elephant will eat a bun, but not a mutton chop; a\nduck will go into the water, but a hen will not. But when we\nthink of our own. desires, most people believe that we can know\nthem by an immediate self-knowledge which does not depend upon\nobservation of our actions. Yet if this were the case, it would\nbe odd that people are so often mistaken as to what they desire.\nIt is matter of common observation that \"so-and-so does not know\nhis own motives,\" or that \"A is envious of B and malicious about\nhim, but quite unconscious of being so.\" Such people are called\nself-deceivers, and are supposed to have had to go through some\nmore or less elaborate process of concealing from themselves what\nwould otherwise have been obvious. I believe that this is an\nentire mistake. I believe that the discovery of our own motives\ncan only be made by the same process by which we discover other\npeople's, namely, the process of observing our actions and\ninferring the desire which could prompt them. A desire is\n\"conscious\" when we have told ourselves that we have it. A hungry\nman may say to himself: \"Oh, I do want my lunch.\" Then his desire\nis \"conscious.\" But it only differs from an \"unconscious\" desire\nby the presence of appropriate words, which is by no means a\nfundamental difference.\n\nThe belief that a motive is normally conscious makes it easier to\nbe mistaken as to our own motives than as to other people's. When\nsome desire that we should be ashamed of is attributed to us, we\nnotice that we have never had it consciously, in the sense of\nsaying to ourselves, \"I wish that would happen.\" We therefore\nlook for some other interpretation of our actions, and regard our\nfriends as very unjust when they refuse to be convinced by our\nrepudiation of what we hold to be a calumny. Moral considerations\ngreatly increase the difficulty of clear thinking in this matter.\nIt is commonly argued that people are not to blame for\nunconscious motives, but only for conscious ones. In order,\ntherefore, to be wholly virtuous it is only necessary to repeat\nvirtuous formulas. We say: \"I desire to be kind to my friends,\nhonourable in business, philanthropic towards the poor,\npublic-spirited in politics.\" So long as we refuse to allow\nourselves, even in the watches of the night, to avow any contrary\ndesires, we may be bullies at home, shady in the City, skinflints\nin paying wages and profiteers in dealing with the public; yet,\nif only conscious motives are to count in moral valuation, we\nshall remain model characters. This is an agreeable doctrine, and\nit is not surprising that men are un willing to abandon it. But\nmoral considerations are the worst enemies of the scientific\nspirit and we must dismiss them from our minds if we wish to\narrive at truth.\n\nI believe--as I shall try to prove in a later lecture -that\ndesire, like force in mechanics, is of the nature of a convenient\nfiction for describing shortly certain laws of behaviour. A\nhungry animal is restless until it finds food; then it becomes\nquiescent. The thing which will bring a restless condition to an\nend is said to be what is desired. But only experience can show\nwhat will have this sedative effect, and it is easy to make\nmistakes. We feel dissatisfaction, and think that such and-such a\nthing would remove it; but in thinking this, we are theorizing,\nnot observing a patent fact. Our theorizing is often mistaken,\nand when it is mistaken there is a difference between what we\nthink we desire and what in fact will bring satisfaction. This is\nsuch a common phenomenon that any theory of desire which fails to\naccount for it must be wrong.\n\nWhat have been called \"unconscious\" desires have been brought\nvery much to the fore in recent years by psycho-analysis.\nPsycho-analysis, as every one knows, is primarily a method of\nunderstanding hysteria and certain forms of insanity; but it has\nbeen found that there is much in the lives of ordinary men and\nwomen which bears a humiliating resemblance to the delusions of\nthe insane. The connection of dreams, irrational beliefs and\nfoolish actions with unconscious wishes has been brought to\nlight, though with some exaggeration, by Freud and Jung and their\nfollowers. As regards the nature of these unconscious wishes, it\nseems to me--though as a layman I speak with diffidence--that\nmany psycho-analysts are unduly narrow; no doubt the wishes they\nemphasize exist, but others, e.g. for honour and power, are\nequally operative and equally liable to concealment. This,\nhowever, does not affect the value of their general theories from\nthe point of view of theoretic psychology, and it is from this\npoint of view that their results are important for the analysis\nof mind.\n\nWhat, I think, is clearly established, is that a man's actions\nand beliefs may be wholly dominated by a desire of which he is\nquite unconscious, and which he indignantly repudiates when it is\nsuggested to him. Such a desire is generally, in morbid cases, of\na sort which the patient would consider wicked; if he had to\nadmit that he had the desire, he would loathe himself. Yet it is\nso strong that it must force an outlet for itself; hence it\nbecomes necessary to entertain whole systems of false beliefs in\norder to hide the nature of what is desired. The resulting\ndelusions in very many cases disappear if the hysteric or lunatic\ncan be made to face the facts about himself. The consequence of\nthis is that the treatment of many forms of insanity has grown\nmore psychological and less physiological than it used to be.\nInstead of looking for a physical defect in the brain, those who\ntreat delusions look for the repressed desire which has found\nthis contorted mode of expression. For those who do not wish to\nplunge into the somewhat repulsive and often rather wild theories\nof psychoanalytic pioneers, it will be worth while to read a\nlittle book by Dr. Bernard Hart on \"The Psychology of Insanity.\"\nOn this question of the mental as opposed to the physiological\nstudy of the causes of insanity, Dr. Hart says:\n\n\"The psychological conception [of insanity] is based on the view\nthat mental processes can be directly studied without any\nreference to the accompanying changes which are presumed to take\nplace in the brain, and that insanity may therefore be properly\nattacked from the standpoint of psychology\"(p. 9).\n\nThis illustrates a point which I am anxious to make clear from\nthe outset. Any attempt to classify modern views, such as I\npropose to advocate, from the old standpoint of materialism and\nidealism, is only misleading. In certain respects, the views\nwhich I shall be setting forth approximate to materialism; in\ncertain others, they approximate to its opposite. On this\nquestion of the study of delusions, the practical effect of the\nmodern theories, as Dr. Hart points out, is emancipation from the\nmaterialist method. On the other hand, as he also points out (pp.\n38-9), imbecility and dementia still have to be considered\nphysiologically, as caused by defects in the brain. There is no\ninconsistency in this If, as we maintain, mind and matter are\nneither of them the actual stuff of reality, but different\nconvenient groupings of an underlying material, then, clearly,\nthe question whether, in regard to a given phenomenon, we are to\nseek a physical or a mental cause, is merely one to be decided by\ntrial. Metaphysicians have argued endlessly as to the interaction\nof mind and matter. The followers of Descartes held that mind and\nmatter are so different as to make any action of the one on the\nother impossible. When I will to move my arm, they said, it is\nnot my will that operates on my arm, but God, who, by His\nomnipotence, moves my arm whenever I want it moved. The modern\ndoctrine of psychophysical parallelism is not appreciably\ndifferent from this theory of the Cartesian school.\nPsycho-physical parallelism is the theory that mental and\nphysical events each have causes in their own sphere, but run on\nside by side owing to the fact that every state of the brain\ncoexists with a definite state of the mind, and vice versa. This\nview of the reciprocal causal independence of mind and matter has\nno basis except in metaphysical theory. For us, there is no\nnecessity to make any such assumption, which is very difficult to\nharmonize with obvious facts. I receive a letter inviting me to\ndinner: the letter is a physical fact, but my apprehension of its\nmeaning is mental. Here we have an effect of matter on mind. In\nconsequence of my apprehension of the meaning of the letter, I go\nto the right place at the right time; here we have an effect of\nmind on matter. I shall try to persuade you, in the course of\nthese lectures, that matter is not so material and mind not so\nmental as is generally supposed. When we are speaking of matter,\nit will seem as if we were inclining to idealism; when we are\nspeaking of mind, it will seem as if we were inclining to\nmaterialism. Neither is the truth. Our world is to be constructed\nout of what the American realists call \"neutral\" entities, which\nhave neither the hardness and indestructibility of matter, nor\nthe reference to objects which is supposed to characterize mind.\n\nThere is, it is true, one objection which might be felt, not\nindeed to the action of matter on mind, but to the action of mind\non matter. The laws of physics, it may be urged, are apparently\nadequate to explain everything that happens to matter, even when\nit is matter in a man's brain. This, however, is only a\nhypothesis, not an established theory. There is no cogent\nempirical reason for supposing that the laws determining the\nmotions of living bodies are exactly the same as those that apply\nto dead matter. Sometimes, of course, they are clearly the same.\nWhen a man falls from a precipice or slips on a piece of orange\npeel, his body behaves as if it were devoid of life. These are\nthe occasions that make Bergson laugh. But when a man's bodily\nmovements are what we call \"voluntary,\" they are, at any rate\nprima facie, very different in their laws from the movements of\nwhat is devoid of life. I do not wish to say dogmatically that\nthe difference is irreducible; I think it highly probable that it\nis not. I say only that the study of the behaviour of living\nbodies, in the present state of our knowledge, is distinct from\nphysics. The study of gases was originally quite distinct from\nthat of rigid bodies, and would never have advanced to its\npresent state if it had not been independently pursued. Nowadays\nboth the gas and the rigid body are manufactured out of a more\nprimitive and universal kind of matter. In like manner, as a\nquestion of methodology, the laws of living bodies are to be\nstudied, in the first place, without any undue haste to\nsubordinate them to the laws of physics. Boyle's law and the rest\nhad to be discovered before the kinetic theory of gases became\npossible. But in psychology we are hardly yet at the stage of\nBoyle's law. Meanwhile we need not be held up by the bogey of the\nuniversal rigid exactness of physics. This is, as yet, a mere\nhypothesis, to be tested empirically without any preconceptions.\nIt may be true, or it may not. So far, that is all we can say.\n\nReturning from this digression to our main topic, namely, the\ncriticism of \"consciousness,\" we observe that Freud and his\nfollowers, though they have demonstrated beyond dispute the\nimmense importance of \"unconscious\" desires in determining our\nactions and beliefs, have not attempted the task of telling us\nwhat an \"unconscious\" desire actually is, and have thus invested\ntheir doctrine with an air of mystery and mythology which forms a\nlarge part of its popular attractiveness. They speak always as\nthough it were more normal for a desire to be conscious, and as\nthough a positive cause had to be assigned for its being\nunconscious. Thus \"the unconscious\" becomes a sort of underground\nprisoner, living in a dungeon, breaking in at long intervals upon\nour daylight respectability with dark groans and maledictions and\nstrange atavistic lusts. The ordinary reader, almost inevitably,\nthinks of this underground person as another consciousness,\nprevented by what Freud calls the \"censor\" from making his voice\nheard in company, except on rare and dreadful occasions when he\nshouts so loud that every one hears him and there is a scandal.\nMost of us like the idea that we could be desperately wicked if\nonly we let ourselves go. For this reason, the Freudian\n\"unconscious\" has been a consolation to many quiet and\nwell-behaved persons.\n\nI do not think the truth is quite so picturesque as this. I\nbelieve an \"unconscious\" desire is merely a causal law of our\nbehaviour, namely, that we remain restlessly active until a\ncertain state of affairs is realized, when we achieve temporary\nequilibrium If we know beforehand what this state of affairs is,\nour desire is conscious; if not, unconscious. The unconscious\ndesire is not something actually existing, but merely a tendency\nto a certain behaviour; it has exactly the same status as a force\nin dynamics. The unconscious desire is in no way mysterious; it\nis the natural primitive form of desire, from which the other has\ndeveloped through our habit of observing and theorizing (often\nwrongly). It is not necessary to suppose, as Freud seems to do,\nthat every unconscious wish was once conscious, and was then, in\nhis terminology, \"repressed\" because we disapproved of it. On the\ncontrary, we shall suppose that, although Freudian \"repression\"\nundoubtedly occurs and is important, it is not the usual reason\nfor unconsciousness of our wishes. The usual reason is merely\nthat wishes are all, to begin with, unconscious, and only become\nknown when they are actively noticed. Usually, from laziness,\npeople do not notice, but accept the theory of human nature which\nthey find current, and attribute to themselves whatever wishes\nthis theory would lead them to expect. We used to be full of\nvirtuous wishes, but since Freud our wishes have become, in the\nwords of the Prophet Jeremiah, \"deceitful above all things and\ndesperately wicked.\" Both these views, in most of those who have\nheld them, are the product of theory rather than observation, for\nobservation requires effort, whereas repeating phrases does not.\n\nThe interpretation of unconscious wishes which I have been\nadvocating has been set forth briefly by Professor John B. Watson\nin an article called \"The Psychology of Wish Fulfilment,\" which\nappeared in \"The Scientific Monthly\" in November, 1916. Two\nquotations will serve to show his point of view:\n\n\"The Freudians (he says) have made more or less of a\n'metaphysical entity' out of the censor. They suppose that when\nwishes are repressed they are repressed into the 'unconscious,'\nand that this mysterious censor stands at the trapdoor lying\nbetween the conscious and the unconscious. Many of us do not\nbelieve in a world of the unconscious (a few of us even have\ngrave doubts about the usefulness of the term consciousness),\nhence we try to explain censorship along ordinary biological\nlines. We believe that one group of habits can 'down' another\ngroup of habits--or instincts. In this case our ordinary system\nof habits--those which we call expressive of our 'real selves'--\ninhibit or quench (keep inactive or partially inactive) those\nhabits and instinctive tendencies which belong largely in the\npast\"(p. 483).\n\nAgain, after speaking of the frustration of some impulses which\nis involved in acquiring the habits of a civilized adult, he\ncontinues:\n\n\"It is among these frustrated impulses that I would find the\nbiological basis of the unfulfilled wish. Such 'wishes' need\nnever have been 'conscious,' and NEED NEVER HAVE BEEN SUPPRESSED\nINTO FREUD'S REALM OF THE UNCONSCIOUS. It may be inferred from\nthis that there is no particular reason for applying the term\n'wish' to such tendencies\"(p. 485).\n\nOne of the merits of the general analysis of mind which we shall\nbe concerned with in the following lectures is that it removes\nthe atmosphere of mystery from the phenomena brought to light by\nthe psycho-analysts. Mystery is delightful, but unscientific,\nsince it depends upon ignorance. Man has developed out of the\nanimals, and there is no serious gap between him and the amoeba.\nSomething closely analogous to knowledge and desire, as regards\nits effects on behaviour, exists among animals, even where what\nwe call \"consciousness\" is hard to believe in; something equally\nanalogous exists in ourselves in cases where no trace of\n\"consciousness\" can be found. It is therefore natural to suppose\nthat, what ever may be the correct definition of \"consciousness,\"\n\"consciousness\" is not the essence of life or mind. In the\nfollowing lectures, accordingly, this term will disappear until\nwe have dealt with words, when it will re-emerge as mainly a\ntrivial and unimportant outcome of linguistic habits.","title":"The Analysis of Mind/Lecture I","tradition":"philosophy-ethics","translated_text":null,"word_count":9240}