{"collection":"philosophy-ethics","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/wikisource_The_Analysis_of_Mind_Lecture_III/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/wikisource_The_Analysis_of_Mind_Lecture_III","id":"wikisource_The_Analysis_of_Mind_Lecture_III","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_III","summary":null,"tags":["Headers_applying_DefaultSort_key","Subpages"],"text":"Desire is a subject upon which, if I am not mistaken, true views\ncan only be arrived at by an almost complete reversal of the\nordinary unreflecting opinion. It is natural to regard desire as\nin its essence an attitude towards something which is imagined,\nnot actual; this something is called the END or OBJECT of the\ndesire, and is said to be the PURPOSE of any action resulting\nfrom the desire. We think of the content of the desire as being\njust like the content of a belief, while the attitude taken up\ntowards the content is different. According to this theory, when\nwe say: \"I hope it will rain,\" or \"I expect it will rain,\" we\nexpress, in the first case, a desire, and in the second, a\nbelief, with an identical content, namely, the image of rain. It\nwould be easy to say that, just as belief is one kind of feeling\nin relation to this content, so desire is another kind. According\nto this view, what comes first in desire is something imagined,\nwith a specific feeling related to it, namely, that specific\nfeeling which we call \"desiring\" it. The discomfort associated\nwith unsatisfied desire, and the actions which aim at satisfying\ndesire, are, in this view, both of them effects of the desire. I\nthink it is fair to say that this is a view against which common\nsense would not rebel; nevertheless, I believe it to be radically\nmistaken. It cannot be refuted logically, but various facts can\nbe adduced which make it gradually less simple and plausible,\nuntil at last it turns out to be easier to abandon it wholly and\nlook at the matter in a totally different way.\n\nThe first set of facts to be adduced against the common sense\nview of desire are those studied by psycho-analysis. In all human\nbeings, but most markedly in those suffering from hysteria and\ncertain forms of insanity, we find what are called \"unconscious\"\ndesires, which are commonly regarded as showing self-deception.\nMost psycho-analysts pay little attention to the analysis of\ndesire, being interested in discovering by observation what it is\nthat people desire, rather than in discovering what actually\nconstitutes desire. I think the strangeness of what they report\nwould be greatly diminished if it were expressed in the language\nof a behaviourist theory of desire, rather than in the language\nof every-day beliefs. The general description of the sort of\nphenomena that bear on our present question is as follows: A\nperson states that his desires are so-and-so, and that it is\nthese desires that inspire his actions; but the outside observer\nperceives that his actions are such as to realize quite different\nends from those which he avows, and that these different ends are\nsuch as he might be expected to desire. Generally they are less\nvirtuous than his professed desires, and are therefore less\nagreeable to profess than these are. It is accordingly supposed\nthat they really exist as desires for ends, but in a subconscious\npart of the mind, which the patient refuses to admit into\nconsciousness for fear of having to think ill of himself. There\nare no doubt many cases to which such a supposition is applicable\nwithout obvious artificiality. But the deeper the Freudians delve\ninto the underground regions of instinct, the further they travel\nfrom anything resembling conscious desire, and the less possible\nit becomes to believe that only positive self-deception conceals\nfrom us that we really wish for things which are abhorrent to our\nexplicit life.\n\nIn the cases in question we have a conflict between the outside\nobserver and the patient's consciousness. The whole tendency of\npsycho-analysis is to trust the outside observer rather than the\ntestimony of introspection. I believe this tendency to be\nentirely right, but to demand a re-statement of what constitutes\ndesire, exhibiting it as a causal law of our actions, not as\nsomething actually existing in our minds.\n\nBut let us first get a clearer statement of the essential\ncharacteristic of the phenomena.\n\nA person, we find, states that he desires a certain end A, and\nthat he is acting with a view to achieving it. We observe,\nhowever, that his actions are such as are likely to achieve a\nquite different end B, and that B is the sort of end that often\nseems to be aimed at by animals and savages, though civilized\npeople are supposed to have discarded it. We sometimes find also\na whole set of false beliefs, of such a kind as to persuade the\npatient that his actions are really a means to A, when in fact\nthey are a means to B. For example, we have an impulse to inflict\npain upon those whom we hate; we therefore believe that they are\nwicked, and that punishment will reform them. This belief enables\nus to act upon the impulse to inflict pain, while believing that\nwe are acting upon the desire to lead sinners to repentance. It\nis for this reason that the criminal law has been in all ages\nmore severe than it would have been if the impulse to ameliorate\nthe criminal had been what really inspired it. It seems simple to\nexplain such a state of affairs as due to \"self-deception,\" but\nthis explanation is often mythical. Most people, in thinking\nabout punishment, have had no more need to hide their vindictive\nimpulses from themselves than they have had to hide the\nexponential theorem. Our impulses are not patent to a casual\nobservation, but are only to be discovered by a scientific study\nof our actions, in the course of which we must regard ourselves\nas objectively as we should the motions of the planets or the\nchemical reactions of a new element.\n\nThe study of animals reinforces this conclusion, and is in many\nways the best preparation for the analysis of desire. In animals\nwe are not troubled by the disturbing influence of ethical\nconsiderations. In dealing with human beings, we are perpetually\ndistracted by being told that such-and-such a view is gloomy or\ncynical or pessimistic: ages of human conceit have built up such\na vast myth as to our wisdom and virtue that any intrusion of the\nmere scientific desire to know the facts is instantly resented by\nthose who cling to comfortable illusions. But no one cares\nwhether animals are virtuous or not, and no one is under the\ndelusion that they are rational. Moreover, we do not expect them\nto be so \"conscious,\" and are prepared to admit that their\ninstincts prompt useful actions without any prevision of the ends\nwhich they achieve. For all these reasons, there is much in the\nanalysis of mind which is more easily discovered by the study of\nanimals than by the observation of human beings.\n\nWe all think that, by watching the behaviour of animals, we can\ndiscover more or less what they desire. If this is the case--and\nI fully agree that it is--desire must be capable of being\nexhibited in actions, for it is only the actions of animals that\nwe can observe. They MAY have minds in which all sorts of things\ntake place, but we can know nothing about their minds except by\nmeans of inferences from their actions; and the more such\ninferences are examined, the more dubious they appear. It would\nseem, therefore, that actions alone must be the test of the\ndesires of animals. From this it is an easy step to the\nconclusion that an animal's desire is nothing but a\ncharacteristic of a certain series of actions, namely, those\nwhich would be commonly regarded as inspired by the desire in\nquestion. And when it has been shown that this view affords a\nsatisfactory account of animal desires, it is not difficult to\nsee that the same explanation is applicable to the desires of\nhuman beings.\n\nWe judge easily from the behaviour of an animal of a familiar\nkind whether it is hungry or thirsty, or pleased or displeased,\nor inquisitive or terrified. The verification of our judgment, so\nfar as verification is possible, must be derived from the\nimmediately succeeding actions of the animal. Most people would\nsay that they infer first something about the animal's state of\nmind--whether it is hungry or thirsty and so on--and thence\nderive their expectations as to its subsequent conduct. But this\ndetour through the animal's supposed mind is wholly unnecessary.\nWe can say simply: The animal's behaviour during the last minute\nhas had those characteristics which distinguish what is called\n\"hunger,\" and it is likely that its actions during the next\nminute will be similar in this respect, unless it finds food, or\nis interrupted by a stronger impulse, such as fear. An animal\nwhich is hungry is restless, it goes to the places where food is\noften to be found, it sniffs with its nose or peers with its eyes\nor otherwise increases the sensitiveness of its sense-organs; as\nsoon as it is near enough to food for its sense-organs to be\naffected, it goes to it with all speed and proceeds to eat; after\nwhich, if the quantity of food has been sufficient, its whole\ndemeanour changes it may very likely lie down and go to sleep.\nThese things and others like them are observable phenomena\ndistinguishing a hungry animal from one which is not hungry. The\ncharacteristic mark by which we recognize a series of actions\nwhich display hunger is not the animal's mental state, which we\ncannot observe, but something in its bodily behaviour; it is this\nobservable trait in the bodily behaviour that I am proposing to\ncall \"hunger,\" not some possibly mythical and certainly\nunknowable ingredient of the animal's mind.\n\nGeneralizing what occurs in the case of hunger, we may say that\nwhat we call a desire in an animal is always displayed in a cycle\nof actions having certain fairly well marked characteristics.\nThere is first a state of activity, consisting, with\nqualifications to be mentioned presently, of movements likely to\nhave a certain result; these movements, unless interrupted,\ncontinue until the result is achieved, after which there is\nusually a period of comparative quiescence. A cycle of actions of\nthis sort has marks by which it is broadly distinguished from the\nmotions of dead matter. The most notable of these marks are--(1)\nthe appropriateness of the actions for the realization of a\ncertain result; (2) the continuance of action until that result\nhas been achieved. Neither of these can be pressed beyond a\npoint. Either may be (a) to some extent present in dead matter,\nand (b) to a considerable extent absent in animals, while\nvegetable are intermediate, and display only a much fainter form\nof the behaviour which leads us to attribute desire to animals.\n(a) One might say rivers \"desire\" the sea water, roughly\nspeaking, remains in restless motion until it reaches either the\nsea or a place from which it cannot issue without going uphill,\nand therefore we might say that this is what it wishes while it\nis flowing. We do not say so, because we can account for the\nbehaviour of water by the laws of physics; and if we knew more\nabout animals, we might equally cease to attribute desires to\nthem, since we might find physical and chemical reactions\nsufficient to account for their behaviour. (b) Many of the\nmovements of animals do not exhibit the characteristics of the\ncycles which seem to embody desire. There are first of all the\nmovements which are \"mechanical,\" such as slipping and falling,\nwhere ordinary physical forces operate upon the animal's body\nalmost as if it were dead matter. An animal which falls over a\ncliff may make a number of desperate struggles while it is in the\nair, but its centre of gravity will move exactly as it would if\nthe animal were dead. In this case, if the animal is killed at\nthe end of the fall, we have, at first sight, just the\ncharacteristics of a cycle of actions embodying desire, namely,\nrestless movement until the ground is reached, and then\nquiescence. Nevertheless, we feel no temptation to say that the\nanimal desired what occurred, partly because of the obviously\nmechanical nature of the whole occurrence, partly because, when\nan animal survives a fall, it tends not to repeat the experience.\n\nThere may be other reasons also, but of them I do not wish to\nspeak yet. Besides mechanical movements, there are interrupted\nmovements, as when a bird, on its way to eat your best peas, is\nfrightened away by the boy whom you are employing for that\npurpose. If interruptions are frequent and completion of cycles\nrare, the characteristics by which cycles are observed may become\nso blurred as to be almost unrecognizable. The result of these\nvarious considerations is that the differences between animals\nand dead matter, when we confine ourselves to external\nunscientific observation of integral behaviour, are a matter of\ndegree and not very precise. It is for this reason that it has\nalways been possible for fanciful people to maintain that even\nstocks and stones have some vague kind of soul. The evidence that\nanimals have souls is so very shaky that, if it is assumed to be\nconclusive, one might just as well go a step further and extend\nthe argument by analogy to all matter. Nevertheless, in spite of\nvagueness and doubtful cases, the existence of cycles in the\nbehaviour of animals is a broad characteristic by which they are\nprima facie distinguished from ordinary matter; and I think it is\nthis characteristic which leads us to attribute desires to\nanimals, since it makes their behaviour resemble what we do when\n(as we say) we are acting from desire.\n\nI shall adopt the following definitions for describing the\nbehaviour of animals:\n\nA \"behaviour-cycle\" is a series of voluntary or reflex movements\nof an animal, tending to cause a certain result, and continuing\nuntil that result is caused, unless they are interrupted by\ndeath, accident, or some new behaviour-cycle. (Here \"accident\"\nmay be defined as the intervention of purely physical laws\ncausing mechanical movements.)\n\nThe \"purpose\" of a behaviour-cycle is the result which brings it\nto an end, normally by a condition of temporary\nquiescence-provided there is no interruption.\n\nAn animal is said to \"desire\" the purpose of a behaviour cycle\nwhile the behaviour-cycle is in progress.\n\nI believe these definitions to be adequate also to human purposes\nand desires, but for the present I am only occupied with animals\nand with what can be learnt by external observation. I am very\nanxious that no ideas should be attached to the words \"purpose\"\nand \"desire\" beyond those involved in the above definitions.\n\nWe have not so far considered what is the nature of the initial\nstimulus to a behaviour-cycle. Yet it is here that the usual view\nof desire seems on the strongest ground. The hungry animal goes\non making movements until it gets food; it seems natural,\ntherefore, to suppose that the idea of food is present throughout\nthe process, and that the thought of the end to be achieved sets\nthe whole process in motion. Such a view, however, is obviously\nuntenable in many cases, especially where instinct is concerned.\nTake, for example, reproduction and the rearing of the young.\nBirds mate, build a nest, lay eggs in it, sit on the eggs, feed\nthe young birds, and care for them until they are fully grown. It\nis totally impossible to suppose that this series of actions,\nwhich constitutes one behaviour-cycle, is inspired by any\nprevision of the end, at any rate the first time it is\nperformed. We must suppose that the stimulus to the performance\nof each act is an impulsion from behind, not an attraction from\nthe future. The bird does what it does, at each stage, because it\nhas an impulse to that particular action, not because it\nperceives that the whole cycle of actions will contribute to the\npreservation of the species. The same considerations apply to\nother instincts. A hungry animal feels restless, and is led by\ninstinctive impulses to perform the movements which give it\nnourishment; but the act of seeking food is not sufficient\nevidence from which to conclude that the animal has the thought\nof food in its \"mind.\"\n\nComing now to human beings, and to what we know about our own\nactions, it seems clear that what, with us, sets a\nbehaviour-cycle in motion is some sensation of the sort which we\ncall disagreeable. Take the case of hunger: we have first an\nuncomfortable feeling inside, producing a disinclination to sit\nstill, a sensitiveness to savoury smells, and an attraction\ntowards any food that there may be in our neighbourhood. At any\nmoment during this process we may become aware that we are\nhungry, in the sense of saying to ourselves, \"I am hungry\"; but\nwe may have been acting with reference to food for some time\nbefore this moment. While we are talking or reading, we may eat\nin complete unconsciousness; but we perform the actions of eating\njust as we should if we were conscious, and they cease when our\nhunger is appeased. What we call \"consciousness\" seems to be a\nmere spectator of the process; even when it issues orders, they\nare usually, like those of a wise parent, just such as would have\nbeen obeyed even if they had not been given. This view may seem\nat first exaggerated, but the more our so-called volitions and\ntheir causes are examined, the more it is forced upon us. The\npart played by words in all this is complicated, and a potent\nsource of confusions; I shall return to it later. For the\npresent, I am still concerned with primitive desire, as it exists\nin man, but in the form in which man shows his affinity to his\nanimal ancestors.\n\nConscious desire is made up partly of what is essential to\ndesire, partly of beliefs as to what we want. It is important to\nbe clear as to the part which does not consist of beliefs.\n\nThe primitive non-cognitive element in desire seems to be a push,\nnot a pull, an impulsion away from the actual, rather than an\nattraction towards the ideal. Certain sensations and other mental\noccurrences have a property which we call discomfort; these cause\nsuch bodily movements as are likely to lead to their cessation.\nWhen the discomfort ceases, or even when it appreciably\ndiminishes, we have sensations possessing a property which we\ncall PLEASURE. Pleasurable sensations either stimulate no action\nat all, or at most stimulate such action as is likely to prolong\nthem. I shall return shortly to the consideration of what\ndiscomfort and pleasure are in themselves; for the present, it is\ntheir connection with action and desire that concerns us.\nAbandoning momentarily the standpoint of behaviourism, we may\npresume that hungry animals experience sensations involving\ndiscomfort, and stimulating such movements as seem likely to\nbring them to the food which is outside the cages. When they have\nreached the food and eaten it, their discomfort ceases and their\nsensations become pleasurable. It SEEMS, mistakenly, as if the\nanimals had had this situation in mind throughout, when in fact\nthey have been continually pushed by discomfort. And when an\nanimal is reflective, like some men, it comes to think that it\nhad the final situation in mind throughout; sometimes it comes to\nknow what situation will bring satisfaction, so that in fact the\ndiscomfort does bring the thought of what will allay it.\nNevertheless the sensation involving discomfort remains the prime\nmover.\n\nThis brings us to the question of the nature of discomfort and\npleasure. Since Kant it has been customary to recognize three\ngreat divisions of mental phenomena, which are typified by\nknowledge, desire and feeling, where \"feeling\" is used to mean\npleasure and discomfort. Of course, \"knowledge\" is too definite a\nword: the states of mind concerned are grouped together as\n\"cognitive,\" and are to embrace not only beliefs, but\nperceptions, doubts, and the understanding of concepts. \"Desire,\"\nalso, is narrower than what is intended: for example, WILL is to\nbe included in this category, and in fact every thing that\ninvolves any kind of striving, or \"conation\" as it is technically\ncalled. I do not myself believe that there is any value in this\nthreefold division of the contents of mind. I believe that\nsensations (including images) supply all the \"stuff\" of the mind,\nand that everything else can be analysed into groups of\nsensations related in various ways, or characteristics of\nsensations or of groups of sensations. As regards belief, I shall\ngive grounds for this view in later lectures. As regards desires,\nI have given some grounds in this lecture. For the present, it is\npleasure and discomfort that concern us. There are broadly three\ntheories that might be held in regard to them. We may regard them\nas separate existing items in those who experience them, or we\nmay regard them as intrinsic qualities of sensations and other\nmental occurrences, or we may regard them as mere names for the\ncausal characteristics of the occurrences which are uncomfortable\nor pleasant. The first of these theories, namely, that which\nregards discomfort and pleasure as actual contents in those who\nexperience them, has, I think, nothing conclusive to be said in\nits favour. It is suggested chiefly by an ambiguity in the word\n\"pain,\" which has misled many people, including Berkeley, whom it\nsupplied with one of his arguments for subjective idealism. We\nmay use \"pain\" as the opposite of \"pleasure,\" and \"painful\" as\nthe opposite of \"pleasant,\" or we may use \"pain\" to mean a\ncertain sort of sensation, on a level with the sensations of heat\nand cold and touch. The latter use of the word has prevailed in\npsychological literature, and it is now no longer used as the\nopposite of \"pleasure.\" Dr. H. Head, in a recent publication, has\nstated this distinction as follows:\n\n\"It is necessary at the outset to distinguish clearly between\n'discomfort' and 'pain.' Pain is a distinct sensory quality\nequivalent to heat and cold, and its intensity can be roughly\ngraded according to the force expended in stimulation.\nDiscomfort, on the other hand, is that feeling-tone which is\ndirectly opposed to pleasure. It may accompany sensations not in\nthemselves essentially painful; as for instance that produced by\ntickling the sole of the foot. The reaction produced by repeated\npricking contains both these elements; for it evokes that sensory\nquality known as pain, accompanied by a disagreeable\nfeeling-tone, which we have called discomfort. On the other hand,\nexcessive pressure, except when applied directly over some\nnerve-trunk, tends to excite more discomfort than pain.\"\n\nThe confusion between discomfort and pain has made people regard\ndiscomfort as a more substantial thing than it is, and this in\nturn has reacted upon the view taken of pleasure, since\ndiscomfort and pleasure are evidently on a level in this respect.\nAs soon as discomfort is clearly distinguished from the sensation\nof pain, it becomes more natural to regard discomfort and\npleasure as properties of mental occurrences than to regard them\nas separate mental occurrences on their own account. I shall\ntherefore dismiss the view that they are separate mental\noccurrences, and regard them as properties of such experiences as\nwould be called respectively uncomfortable and pleasant.\n\nIt remains to be examined whether they are actual qualities of\nsuch occurrences, or are merely differences as to causal\nproperties. I do not myself see any way of deciding this\nquestion; either view seems equally capable of accounting for the\nfacts. If this is true, it is safer to avoid the assumption that\nthere are such intrinsic qualities of mental occurrences as are\nin question, and to assume only the causal differences which are\nundeniable. Without condemning the intrinsic theory, we can\ndefine discomfort and pleasure as consisting in causal\nproperties, and say only what will hold on either of the two\ntheories. Following this course, we shall say:\n\n\"Discomfort\" is a property of a sensation or other mental\noccurrence, consisting in the fact that the occurrence in\nquestion stimulates voluntary or reflex movements tending to\nproduce some more or less definite change involving the cessation\nof the occurrence.\n\n\"Pleasure\" is a property of a sensation or other mental\noccurrence, consisting in the fact that the occurrence in\nquestion either does not stimulate any voluntary or reflex\nmovement, or, if it does, stimulates only such as tend to prolong\nthe occurrence in question.\n\n\"Conscious\" desire, which we have now to consider, consists of\ndesire in the sense hitherto discussed, together with a true\nbelief as to its \"purpose,\" i.e. as to the state of affairs that\nwill bring quiescence with cessation of the discomfort. If our\ntheory of desire is correct, a belief as to its purpose may very\nwell be erroneous, since only experience can show what causes a\ndiscomfort to cease. When the experience needed is common and\nsimple, as in the case of hunger, a mistake is not very probable.\nBut in other cases--e.g. erotic desire in those who have had\nlittle or no experience of its satisfaction--mistakes are to be\nexpected, and do in fact very often occur. The practice of\ninhibiting impulses, which is to a great extent necessary to\ncivilized life, makes mistakes easier, by preventing experience\nof the actions to which a desire would otherwise lead, and by\noften causing the inhibited impulses themselves to be unnoticed\nor quickly forgotten. The perfectly natural mistakes which thus\narise constitute a large proportion of what is, mistakenly in\npart, called self-deception, and attributed by Freud to the\n\"censor.\"\n\nBut there is a further point which needs emphasizing, namely,\nthat a belief that something is desired has often a tendency to\ncause the very desire that is believed in. It is this fact that\nmakes the effect of \"consciousness\" on desire so complicated.\n\nWhen we believe that we desire a certain state of affairs, that\noften tends to cause a real desire for it. This is due partly to\nthe influence of words upon our emotions, in rhetoric for\nexample, and partly to the general fact that discomfort normally\nbelongs to the belief that we desire such-and-such a thing that\nwe do not possess. Thus what was originally a false opinion as to\nthe object of a desire acquires a certain truth: the false\nopinion generates a secondary subsidiary desire, which\nnevertheless becomes real. Let us take an illustration. Suppose\nyou have been jilted in a way which wounds your vanity. Your\nnatural impulsive desire will be of the sort expressed in Donne's\npoem:\n\nWhen by thy scorn, O Murderess, I am dead,\n\nin which he explains how he will haunt the poor lady as a ghost,\nand prevent her from enjoying a moment's peace. But two things\nstand in the way of your expressing yourself so naturally: on the\none hand, your vanity, which will not acknowledge how hard you\nare hit; on the other hand, your conviction that you are a\ncivilized and humane person, who could not possibly indulge so\ncrude a desire as revenge. You will therefore experience a\nrestlessness which will at first seem quite aimless, but will\nfinally resolve itself in a conscious desire to change your\nprofession, or go round the world, or conceal your identity and\nlive in Putney, like Arnold Bennett's hero. Although the prime\ncause of this desire is a false judgment as to your previous\nunconscious desire, yet the new conscious desire has its own\nderivative genuineness, and may influence your actions to the\nextent of sending you round the world. The initial mistake,\nhowever, will have effects of two kinds. First, in uncontrolled\nmoments, under the influence of sleepiness or drink or delirium,\nyou will say things calculated to injure the faithless deceiver.\nSecondly, you will find travel disappointing, and the East less\nfascinating than you had hoped--unless, some day, you hear that\nthe wicked one has in turn been jilted. If this happens, you will\nbelieve that you feel sincere sympathy, but you will suddenly be\nmuch more delighted than before with the beauties of tropical\nislands or the wonders of Chinese art. A secondary desire,\nderived from a false judgment as to a primary desire, has its own\npower of influencing action, and is therefore a real desire\naccording to our definition. But it has not the same power as a\nprimary desire of bringing thorough satisfaction when it is\nrealized; so long as the primary desire remains unsatisfied,\nrestlessness continues in spite of the secondary desire's\nsuccess. Hence arises a belief in the vanity of human wishes: the\nvain wishes are those that are secondary, but mistaken beliefs\nprevent us from realizing that they are secondary.\n\nWhat may, with some propriety, be called self-deception arises\nthrough the operation of desires for beliefs. We desire many\nthings which it is not in our power to achieve: that we should be\nuniversally popular and admired, that our work should be the\nwonder of the age, and that the universe should be so ordered as\nto bring ultimate happiness to all, though not to our enemies\nuntil they have repented and been purified by suffering. Such\ndesires are too large to be achieved through our own efforts. But\nit is found that a considerable portion of the satisfaction which\nthese things would bring us if they were realized is to be\nachieved by the much easier operation of believing that they are\nor will be realized. This desire for beliefs, as opposed to\ndesire for the actual facts, is a particular case of secondary\ndesire, and, like all secondary desire its satisfaction does not\nlead to a complete cessation of the initial discomfort.\nNevertheless, desire for beliefs, as opposed to desire for facts,\nis exceedingly potent both individually and socially. According\nto the form of belief desired, it is called vanity, optimism, or\nreligion. Those who have sufficient power usually imprison or put\nto death any one who tries to shake their faith in their own\nexcellence or in that of the universe; it is for this reason that\nseditious libel and blasphemy have always been, and still are,\ncriminal offences.\n\nIt is very largely through desires for beliefs that the primitive\nnature of desire has become so hidden, and that the part played\nby consciousness has been so confusing and so exaggerated.\n\nWe may now summarize our analysis of desire and feeling.\n\nA mental occurrence of any kind--sensation, image, belief, or\nemotion--may be a cause of a series of actions, continuing,\nunless interrupted, until some more or less definite state of\naffairs is realized. Such a series of actions we call a\n\"behaviour-cycle.\" The degree of definiteness may vary greatly:\nhunger requires only food in general, whereas the sight of a\nparticular piece of food raises a desire which requires the\neating of that piece of food. The property of causing such a\ncycle of occurrences is called \"discomfort\"; the property of the\nmental occurrences in which the cycle ends is called \" pleasure.\"\nThe actions constituting the cycle must not be purely mechanical,\ni.e. they must be bodily movements in whose causation the special\nproperties of nervous tissue are involved. The cycle ends in a\ncondition of quiescence, or of such action as tends only to\npreserve the status quo. The state of affairs in which this\ncondition of quiescence is achieved is called the \"purpose\" of\nthe cycle, and the initial mental occurrence involving discomfort\nis called a \"desire\" for the state of affairs that brings\nquiescence. A desire is called \"conscious\" when it is accompanied\nby a true belief as to the state of affairs that will bring\nquiescence; otherwise it is called \"unconscious.\" All primitive\ndesire is unconscious, and in human beings beliefs as to the\npurposes of desires are often mistaken. These mistaken beliefs\ngenerate secondary desires, which cause various interesting\ncomplications in the psychology of human desire, without\nfundamentally altering the character which it shares with animal\ndesire.","title":"The Analysis of Mind/Lecture III","tradition":"philosophy-ethics","translated_text":null,"word_count":5366}