{"collection":"philosophy-ethics","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/wikisource_The_Analysis_of_Mind_Lecture_II/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/wikisource_The_Analysis_of_Mind_Lecture_II","id":"wikisource_The_Analysis_of_Mind_Lecture_II","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_II","summary":null,"tags":["Habit","Headers_applying_DefaultSort_key","Subpages"],"text":"In attempting to understand the elements out of which mental\nphenomena are compounded, it is of the greatest importance to\nremember that from the protozoa to man there is nowhere a very\nwide gap either in structure or in behaviour. From this fact it\nis a highly probable inference that there is also nowhere a very\nwide mental gap. It is, of course, POSSIBLE that there may be, at\ncertain stages in evolution, elements which are entirely new from\nthe standpoint of analysis, though in their nascent form they\nhave little influence on behaviour and no very marked\ncorrelatives in structure. But the hypothesis of continuity in\nmental development is clearly preferable if no psychological\nfacts make it impossible. We shall find, if I am not mistaken,\nthat there are no facts which refute the hypothesis of mental\ncontinuity, and that, on the other hand, this hypothesis affords\na useful test of suggested theories as to the nature of mind.\n\nThe hypothesis of mental continuity throughout organic evolution\nmay be used in two different ways. On the one hand, it may be\nheld that we have more knowledge of our own minds than those of\nanimals, and that we should use this knowledge to infer the\nexistence of something similar to our own mental processes in\nanimals and even in plants. On the other hand, it may be held\nthat animals and plants present simpler phenomena, more easily\nanalysed than those of human minds; on this ground it may be\nurged that explanations which are adequate in the case of animals\nought not to be lightly rejected in the case of man. The\npractical effects of these two views are diametrically opposite:\nthe first leads us to level up animal intelligence with what we\nbelieve ourselves to know about our own intelligence, while the\nsecond leads us to attempt a levelling down of our own\nintelligence to something not too remote from what we can observe\nin animals. It is therefore important to consider the relative\njustification of the two ways of applying the principle of\ncontinuity.\n\nIt is clear that the question turns upon another, namely, which\ncan we know best, the psychology of animals or that of human\nbeings? If we can know most about animals, we shall use this\nknowledge as a basis for inference about human beings; if we can\nknow most about human beings, we shall adopt the opposite\nprocedure. And the question whether we can know most about the\npsychology of human beings or about that of animals turns upon\nyet another, namely: Is introspection or external observation the\nsurer method in psychology? This is a question which I propose to\ndiscuss at length in Lecture VI; I shall therefore content myself\nnow with a statement of the conclusions to be arrived at.\n\nWe know a great many things concerning ourselves which we cannot\nknow nearly so directly concerning animals or even other people.\nWe know when we have a toothache, what we are thinking of, what\ndreams we have when we are asleep, and a host of other\noccurrences which we only know about others when they tell us of\nthem, or otherwise make them inferable by their behaviour. Thus,\nso far as knowledge of detached facts is concerned, the advantage\nis on the side of self-knowledge as against external observation.\n\nBut when we come to the analysis and scientific understanding of\nthe facts, the advantages on the side of self-knowledge become\nfar less clear. We know, for example, that we have desires and\nbeliefs, but we do not know what constitutes a desire or a\nbelief. The phenomena are so familiar that it is difficult to\nrealize how little we really know about them. We see in animals,\nand to a lesser extent in plants, behaviour more or less similar\nto that which, in us, is prompted by desires and beliefs, and we\nfind that, as we descend in the scale of evolution, behaviour\nbecomes simpler, more easily reducible to rule, more\nscientifically analysable and predictable. And just because we\nare not misled by familiarity we find it easier to be cautious in\ninterpreting behaviour when we are dealing with phenomena remote\nfrom those of our own minds: Moreover, introspection, as\npsychoanalysis has demonstrated, is extraordinarily fallible even\nin cases where we feel a high degree of certainty. The net result\nseems to be that, though self-knowledge has a definite and\nimportant contribution to make to psychology, it is exceedingly\nmisleading unless it is constantly checked and controlled by the\ntest of external observation, and by the theories which such\nobservation suggests when applied to animal behaviour. On the\nwhole, therefore, there is probably more to be learnt about human\npsychology from animals than about animal psychology from human\nbeings; but this conclusion is one of degree, and must not be\npressed beyond a point.\n\nIt is only bodily phenomena that can be directly observed in\nanimals, or even, strictly speaking, in other human beings. We\ncan observe such things as their movements, their physiological\nprocesses, and the sounds they emit. Such things as desires and\nbeliefs, which seem obvious to introspection, are not visible\ndirectly to external observation. Accordingly, if we begin our\nstudy of psychology by external observation, we must not begin by\nassuming such things as desires and beliefs, but only such things\nas external observation can reveal, which will be characteristics\nof the movements and physiological processes of animals. Some\nanimals, for example, always run away from light and hide\nthemselves in dark places. If you pick up a mossy stone which is\nlightly embedded in the earth, you will see a number of small\nanimals scuttling away from the unwonted daylight and seeking\nagain the darkness of which you have deprived them. Such animals\nare sensitive to light, in the sense that their movements are\naffected by it; but it would be rash to infer that they have\nsensations in any way analogous to our sensations of sight. Such\ninferences, which go beyond the observable facts, are to be\navoided with the utmost care.\n\nIt is customary to divide human movements into three classes,\nvoluntary, reflex and mechanical. We may illustrate the\ndistinction by a quotation from William James (\"Psychology,\" i,\n12):\n\n\"If I hear the conductor calling 'all aboard' as I enter the\ndepot, my heart first stops, then palpitates, and my legs respond\nto the air-waves falling on my tympanum by quickening their\nmovements. If I stumble as I run, the sensation of falling\nprovokes a movement of the hands towards the direction of the\nfall, the effect of which is to shield the body from too sudden a\nshock. If a cinder enter my eye, its lids close forcibly and a\ncopious flow of tears tends to wash it out.\n\n\"These three responses to a sensational stimulus differ, however,\nin many respects. The closure of the eye and the lachrymation are\nquite involuntary, and so is the disturbance of the heart. Such\ninvoluntary responses we know as 'reflex' acts. The motion of the\narms to break the shock of falling may also be called reflex,\nsince it occurs too quickly to be deliberately intended. Whether\nit be instinctive or whether it result from the pedestrian\neducation of childhood may be doubtful; it is, at any rate, less\nautomatic than the previous acts, for a man might by conscious\neffort learn to perform it more skilfully, or even to suppress it\naltogether. Actions of this kind, with which instinct and\nvolition enter upon equal terms, have been called 'semi-reflex.'\nThe act of running towards the train, on the other hand, has no\ninstinctive element about it. It is purely the result of\neducation, and is preceded by a consciousness of the purpose to\nbe attained and a distinct mandate of the will. It is a\n'voluntary act.' Thus the animal's reflex and voluntary\nperformances shade into each other gradually, being connected by\nacts which may often occur automatically, but may also be\nmodified by conscious intelligence.\n\n\"An outside observer, unable to perceive the accompanying\nconsciousness, might be wholly at a loss to discriminate between\nthe automatic acts and those which volition escorted. But if the\ncriterion of mind's existence be the choice of the proper means\nfor the attainment of a supposed end, all the acts alike seem to\nbe inspired by intelligence, for APPROPRIATENESS characterizes\nthem all alike.\"\n\nThere is one movement, among those that James mentions at first,\nwhich is not subsequently classified, namely, the stumbling. This\nis the kind of movement which may be called \"mechanical\"; it is\nevidently of a different kind from either reflex or voluntary\nmovements, and more akin to the movements of dead matter. We may\ndefine a movement of an animal's body as \"mechanical\" when it\nproceeds as if only dead matter were involved. For example, if\nyou fall over a cliff, you move under the influence of\ngravitation, and your centre of gravity describes just as correct\na parabola as if you were already dead. Mechanical movements have\nnot the characteristic of appropriateness, unless by accident, as\nwhen a drunken man falls into a waterbutt and is sobered. But\nreflex and voluntary movements are not ALWAYS appropriate, unless\nin some very recondite sense. A moth flying into a lamp is not\nacting sensibly; no more is a man who is in such a hurry to get\nhis ticket that he cannot remember the name of his destination.\nAppropriateness is a complicated and merely approximate idea, and\nfor the present we shall do well to dismiss it from our thoughts.\n\nAs James states, there is no difference, from the point of view\nof the outside observer, between voluntary and reflex movements.\nThe physiologist can discover that both depend upon the nervous\nsystem, and he may find that the movements which we call\nvoluntary depend upon higher centres in the brain than those that\nare reflex. But he cannot discover anything as to the presence or\nabsence of \"will\" or \"consciousness,\" for these things can only\nbe seen from within, if at all. For the present, we wish to place\nourselves resolutely in the position of outside observers; we\nwill therefore ignore the distinction between voluntary and\nreflex movements. We will call the two together \"vital\"\nmovements. We may then distinguish \"vital\" from mechanical\nmovements by the fact that vital movements depend for their\ncausation upon the special properties of the nervous system,\nwhile mechanical movements depend only upon the properties which\nanimal bodies share with matter in general.\n\nThere is need for some care if the distinction between mechanical\nand vital movements is to be made precise. It is quite likely\nthat, if we knew more about animal bodies, we could deduce all\ntheir movements from the laws of chemistry and physics. It is\nalready fairly easy to see how chemistry reduces to physics, i.e.\nhow the differences between different chemical elements can be\naccounted for by differences of physical structure, the\nconstituents of the structure being electrons which are exactly\nalike in all kinds of matter. We only know in part how to reduce\nphysiology to chemistry, but we know enough to make it likely\nthat the reduction is possible. If we suppose it effected, what\nwould become of the difference between vital and mechanical\nmovements?\n\nSome analogies will make the difference clear. A shock to a mass\nof dynamite produces quite different effects from an equal shock\nto a mass of steel: in the one case there is a vast explosion,\nwhile in the other case there is hardly any noticeable\ndisturbance. Similarly, you may sometimes find on a mountain-side\na large rock poised so delicately that a touch will set it\ncrashing down into the valley, while the rocks all round are so\nfirm that only a considerable force can dislodge them What is\nanalogous in these two cases is the existence of a great store of\nenergy in unstable equilibrium ready to burst into violent motion\nby the addition of a very slight disturbance. Similarly, it\nrequires only a very slight expenditure of energy to send a\npost-card with the words \"All is discovered; fly!\" but the effect\nin generating kinetic energy is said to be amazing. A human body,\nlike a mass of dynamite, contains a store of energy in unstable\nequilibrium, ready to be directed in this direction or that by a\ndisturbance which is physically very small, such as a spoken\nword. In all such cases the reduction of behaviour to physical\nlaws can only be effected by entering into great minuteness; so\nlong as we confine ourselves to the observation of comparatively\nlarge masses, the way in which the equilibrium will be upset\ncannot be determined. Physicists distinguish between macroscopic\nand microscopic equations: the former determine the visible\nmovements of bodies of ordinary size, the latter the minute\noccurrences in the smallest parts. It is only the microscopic\nequations that are supposed to be the same for all sorts of\nmatter. The macroscopic equations result from a process of\naveraging out, and may be different in different cases. So, in\nour instance, the laws of macroscopic phenomena are different for\nmechanical and vital movements, though the laws of microscopic\nphenomena may be the same.\n\nWe may say, speaking somewhat roughly, that a stimulus applied to\nthe nervous system, like a spark to dynamite, is able to take\nadvantage of the stored energy in unstable equilibrium, and thus\nto produce movements out of proportion to the proximate cause.\nMovements produced in this way are vital movements, while\nmechanical movements are those in which the stored energy of a\nliving body is not involved. Similarly dynamite may be exploded,\nthereby displaying its characteristic properties, or may (with\ndue precautions) be carted about like any other mineral. The\nexplosion is analogous to vital movements, the carting about to\nmechanical movements.\n\nMechanical movements are of no interest to the psychologist, and\nit has only been necessary to define them in order to be able to\nexclude them. When a psychologist studies behaviour, it is only\nvital movements that concern him. We shall, therefore, proceed to\nignore mechanical movements, and study only the properties of the\nremainder.\n\nThe next point is to distinguish between movements that are\ninstinctive and movements that are acquired by experience. This\ndistinction also is to some extent one of degree. Professor Lloyd\nMorgan gives the following definition of \"instinctive behaviour\":\n\n\"That which is, on its first occurrence, independent of prior\nexperience; which tends to the well-being of the individual and\nthe preservation of the race; which is similarly performed by all\nmembers of the same more or less restricted group of animals; and\nwhich may be subject to subsequent modification under the\nguidance of experience.\"\n\nThis definition is framed for the purposes of biology, and is in\nsome respects unsuited to the needs of psychology. Though perhaps\nunavoidable, allusion to \"the same more or less restricted group\nof animals\" makes it impossible to judge what is instinctive in\nthe behaviour of an isolated individual. Moreover, \"the\nwell-being of the individual and the preservation of the race\" is\nonly a usual characteristic, not a universal one, of the sort of\nmovements that, from our point of view, are to be called\ninstinctive; instances of harmful instincts will be given\nshortly. The essential point of the definition, from our point of\nview, is that an instinctive movement is in dependent of prior\nexperience.\n\nWe may say that an \"instinctive\" movement is a vital movement\nperformed by an animal the first time that it finds itself in a\nnovel situation; or, more correctly, one which it would perform\nif the situation were novel. The instincts of an animal are\ndifferent at different periods of its growth, and this fact may\ncause changes of behaviour which are not due to learning. The\nmaturing and seasonal fluctuation of the sex-instinct affords a\ngood illustration. When the sex-instinct first matures, the\nbehaviour of an animal in the presence of a mate is different\nfrom its previous behaviour in similar circumstances, but is not\nlearnt, since it is just the same if the animal has never\npreviously been in the presence of a mate.\n\nOn the other hand, a movement is \"learnt,\" or embodies a \"habit,\"\nif it is due to previous experience of similar situations, and is\nnot what it would be if the animal had had no such experience.\n\nThere are various complications which blur the sharpness of this\ndistinction in practice. To begin with, many instincts mature\ngradually, and while they are immature an animal may act in a\nfumbling manner which is very difficult to distinguish from\nlearning. James (\"Psychology,\" ii, 407) maintains that children\nwalk by instinct, and that the awkwardness of their first\nattempts is only due to the fact that the instinct has not yet\nripened. He hopes that \"some scientific widower, left alone with\nhis offspring at the critical moment, may ere long test this\nsuggestion on the living subject.\" However this may be, he quotes\nevidence to show that \"birds do not LEARN to fly,\" but fly by\ninstinct when they reach the appropriate age (ib., p. 406). In\nthe second place, instinct often gives only a rough outline of\nthe sort of thing to do, in which case learning is necessary in\norder to acquire certainty and precision in action. In the third\nplace, even in the clearest cases of acquired habit, such as\nspeaking, some instinct is required to set in motion the process\nof learning. In the case of speaking, the chief instinct involved\nis commonly supposed to be that of imitation, but this may be\nquestioned. (See Thorndike's \"Animal Intelligence,\" p. 253 ff.)\n\nIn spite of these qualifications, the broad distinction between\ninstinct and habit is undeniable. To take extreme cases, every\nanimal at birth can take food by instinct, before it has had\nopportunity to learn; on the other hand, no one can ride a\nbicycle by instinct, though, after learning, the necessary\nmovements become just as automatic as if they were instinctive.\n\nThe process of learning, which consists in the acquisition of\nhabits, has been much studied in various animals. For example:\nyou put a hungry animal, say a cat, in a cage which has a door\nthat can be opened by lifting a latch; outside the cage you put\nfood. The cat at first dashes all round the cage, making frantic\nefforts to force a way out. At last, by accident, the latch is\nlifted. and the cat pounces on the food. Next day you repeat the\nexperiment, and you find that the cat gets out much more quickly\nthan the first time, although it still makes some random\nmovements. The third day it gets out still more quickly, and\nbefore long it goes straight to the latch and lifts it at once.\nOr you make a model of the Hampton Court maze, and put a rat in\nthe middle, assaulted by the smell of food on the outside. The\nrat starts running down the passages, and is constantly stopped\nby blind alleys, but at last, by persistent attempts, it gets\nout. You repeat this experiment day after day; you measure the\ntime taken by the rat in reaching the food; you find that the\ntime rapidly diminishes, and that after a while the rat ceases to\nmake any wrong turnings. It is by essentially similar processes\nthat we learn speaking, writing, mathematics, or the government\nof an empire.\n\nProfessor Watson (\"Behavior,\" pp. 262-3) has an ingenious theory\nas to the way in which habit arises out of random movements. I\nthink there is a reason why his theory cannot be regarded as\nalone sufficient, but it seems not unlikely that it is partly\ncorrect. Suppose, for the sake of simplicity, that there are just\nten random movements which may be made by the animal--say, ten\npaths down which it may go--and that only one of these leads to\nfood, or whatever else represents success in the case in\nquestion. Then the successful movement always occurs during the\nanimal's attempts, whereas each of the others, on the average,\noccurs in only half the attempts. Thus the tendency to repeat a\nprevious performance (which is easily explicable without the\nintervention of \"consciousness\") leads to a greater emphasis on\nthe successful movement than on any other, and in time causes it\nalone to be performed. The objection to this view, if taken as\nthe sole explanation, is that on improvement ought to set in till\nafter the SECOND trial, whereas experiment shows that already at\nthe second attempt the animal does better than the first time.\nSomething further is, therefore, required to account for the\ngenesis of habit from random movements; but I see no reason to\nsuppose that what is further required involves \"consciousness.\"\n\nMr. Thorndike (op. cit., p. 244) formulates two \"provisional laws\nof acquired behaviour or learning,\" as follows:\n\n\"The Law of Effect is that: Of several responses made to the same\nsituation, those which are accompanied or closely followed by\nsatisfaction to the animal will, other things being equal, be\nmore firmly connected with the situation, so that, when it\nrecurs, they will be more likely to recur; those which are\naccompanied or closely followed by discomfort to the animal will,\nother things being equal, have their connections with that\nsituation weakened, so that, when it recurs, they will be less\nlikely to occur. The greater the satisfaction or discomfort, the\ngreater the strengthening or weakening of the bond.\n\n\"The Law of Exercise is that: Any response to a situation will,\nother things being equal, be more strongly connected with the\nsituation in proportion to the number of times it has been\nconnected with that situation and to the average vigour and\nduration of the connections.\"\n\nWith the explanation to be presently given of the meaning of\n\"satisfaction\" and \"discomfort,\" there seems every reason to\naccept these two laws.\n\nWhat is true of animals, as regards instinct and habit, is\nequally true of men. But the higher we rise in the evolutionary\nscale, broadly speaking, the greater becomes the power of\nlearning, and the fewer are the occasions when pure instinct is\nexhibited unmodified in adult life. This applies with great force\nto man, so much so that some have thought instinct less important\nin the life of man than in that of animals. This, however, would\nbe a mistake. Learning is only possible when instinct supplies\nthe driving-force. The animals in cages, which gradually learn to\nget out, perform random movements at first, which are purely\ninstinctive. But for these random movements, they would never\nacquire the experience which afterwards enables them to produce\nthe right movement. (This is partly questioned by Hobhouse--\nwrongly, I think.) Similarly, children learning to talk make all\nsorts of sounds, until one day the right sound comes by accident.\nIt is clear that the original making of random sounds, without\nwhich speech would never be learnt, is instinctive. I think we\nmay say the same of all the habits and aptitudes that we acquire\nin all of them there has been present throughout some instinctive\nactivity, prompting at first rather inefficient movements, but\nsupplying the driving force while more and more effective methods\nare being acquired. A cat which is hungry smells fish, and goes\nto the larder. This is a thoroughly efficient method when there\nis fish in the larder, and it is often successfully practised by\nchildren. But in later life it is found that merely going to the\nlarder does not cause fish to be there; after a series of random\nmovements it is found that this result is to be caused by going\nto the City in the morning and coming back in the evening. No one\nwould have guessed a priori that this movement of a middle-aged\nman's body would cause fish to come out of the sea into his\nlarder, but experience shows that it does, and the middle-aged\nman therefore continues to go to the City, just as the cat in the\ncage continues to lift the latch when it has once found it. Of\ncourse, in actual fact, human learning is rendered easier, though\npsychologically more complex, through language; but at bottom\nlanguage does not alter the essential character of learning, or\nof the part played by instinct in promoting learning. Language,\nhowever, is a subject upon which I do not wish to speak until a\nlater lecture.\n\nThe popular conception of instinct errs by imagining it to be\ninfallible and preternaturally wise, as well as incapable of\nmodification. This is a complete delusion. Instinct, as a rule,\nis very rough and ready, able to achieve its result under\nordinary circumstances, but easily misled by anything unusual.\nChicks follow their mother by instinct, but when they are quite\nyoung they will follow with equal readiness any moving object\nremotely resembling their mother, or even a human being (James,\n\"Psychology,\" ii, 396). Bergson, quoting Fabre, has made play\nwith the supposed extraordinary accuracy of the solitary wasp\nAmmophila, which lays its eggs in a caterpillar. On this subject\nI will quote from Drever's \"Instinct in Man,\" p. 92:\n\n\"According to Fabre's observations, which Bergson accepts, the\nAmmophila stings its prey EXACTLY and UNERRINGLY in EACH of the\nnervous centres. The result is that the caterpillar is paralyzed,\nbut not immediately killed, the advantage of this being that the\nlarva cannot be injured by any movement of the caterpillar, upon\nwhich the egg is deposited, and is provided with fresh meat when\nthe time comes.\n\n\"Now Dr. and Mrs. Peckham have shown that the sting of the wasp\nis NOT UNERRING, as Fabre alleges, that the number of stings is\nNOT CONSTANT, that sometimes the caterpillar is NOT PARALYZED,\nand sometimes it is KILLED OUTRIGHT, and that THE DIFFERENT\nCIRCUMSTANCES DO NOT APPARENTLY MAKE ANY DIFFERENCE TO THE LARVA,\nwhich is not injured by slight movements of the caterpillar, nor\nby consuming food decomposed rather than fresh caterpillar.\"\n\nThis illustrates how love of the marvellous may mislead even so\ncareful an observer as Fabre and so eminent a philosopher as\nBergson.\n\nIn the same chapter of Dr. Drever's book there are some\ninteresting examples of the mistakes made by instinct. I will\nquote one as a sample:\n\n\"The larva of the Lomechusa beetle eats the young of the ants, in\nwhose nest it is reared. Nevertheless, the ants tend the\nLomechusa larvae with the same care they bestow on their own\nyoung. Not only so, but they apparently discover that the methods\nof feeding, which suit their own larvae, would prove fatal to the\nguests, and accordingly they change their whole system of\nnursing\" (loc. cit., p. 106).\n\nSemon (\"Die Mneme,\" pp. 207-9) gives a good illustration of an\ninstinct growing wiser through experience. He relates how hunters\nattract stags by imitating the sounds of other members of their\nspecies, male or female, but find that the older a stag becomes\nthe more difficult it is to deceive him, and the more accurate\nthe imitation has to be. The literature of instinct is vast, and\nillustrations might be multiplied indefinitely. The main points\nas regards instinct, which need to be emphasized as against the\npopular conceptions of it, are:\n\n(1) That instinct requires no prevision of the biological end which it serves;\n\n(2) That instinct is only adapted to achieve this end in the usual circumstances of the animal in question, and has no more\nprecision than is necessary for success AS A RULE;\n\n(3) That processes initiated by instinct often come to be\nperformed better after experience;\n\n(4) That instinct supplies the impulses to experimental movements which are required for the process of learning;\n\n(5) That instincts in their nascent stages are easily modifiable, and capable of being attached to various sorts of objects.\n\nAll the above characteristics of instinct can be established by\npurely external observation, except the fact that instinct does\nnot require prevision. This, though not strictly capable of being\nPROVED by observation, is irresistibly suggested by the most\nobvious phenomena. Who can believe, for example, that a new-born\nbaby is aware of the necessity of food for preserving life? Or\nthat insects, in laying eggs, are concerned for the preservation\nof their species? The essence of instinct, one might say, is that\nit provides a mechanism for acting without foresight in a manner\nwhich is usually advantageous biologically. It is partly for this\nreason that it is so important to understand the fundamental\nposition of instinct in prompting both animal and human\nbehaviour.","title":"The Analysis of Mind/Lecture II","tradition":"philosophy-ethics","translated_text":null,"word_count":4783}