{"collection":"philosophy-ethics","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/wikisource_The_Analysis_of_Mind_Lecture_IX/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/wikisource_The_Analysis_of_Mind_Lecture_IX","id":"wikisource_The_Analysis_of_Mind_Lecture_IX","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_IX","summary":null,"tags":["Headers_applying_DefaultSort_key","Subpages"],"text":"Memory, which we are to consider to-day, introduces us to\nknowledge in one of its forms. The analysis of knowledge will\noccupy us until the end of the thirteenth lecture, and is the\nmost difficult part of our whole enterprise.\n\nI do not myself believe that the analysis of knowledge can be\neffected entirely by means of purely external observation, such\nas behaviourists employ. I shall discuss this question in later\nlectures. In the present lecture I shall attempt the analysis of\nmemory-knowledge, both as an introduction to the problem of\nknowledge in general, and because memory, in some form, is\npresupposed in almost all other knowledge. Sensation, we decided,\nis not a form of knowledge. It might, however, have been expected\nthat we should begin our discussion of knowledge with PERCEPTION,\ni.e. with that integral experience of things in the environment,\nout of which sensation is extracted by psychological analysis.\nWhat is called perception differs from sensation by the fact that\nthe sensational ingredients bring up habitual associates--images\nand expectations of their usual correlates--all of which are\nsubjectively indistinguishable from the sensation. The FACT of\npast experience is essential in producing this filling-out of\nsensation, but not the RECOLLECTION of past experience. The\nnon-sensational elements in perception can be wholly explained as\nthe result of habit, produced by frequent correlations.\nPerception, according to our definition in Lecture VII, is no\nmore a form of knowledge than sensation is, except in so far as\nit involves expectations. The purely psychological problems which\nit raises are not very difficult, though they have sometimes been\nrendered artificially obscure by unwillingness to admit the\nfallibility of the non-sensational elements of perception. On the\nother hand, memory raises many difficult and very important\nproblems, which it is necessary to consider at the first possible\nmoment.\n\nOne reason for treating memory at this early stage is that it\nseems to be involved in the fact that images are recognized as\n\"copies\" of past sensible experience. In the preceding lecture I\nalluded to Hume's principle \"that all our simple ideas in their\nfirst appearance are derived from simple impressions, which are\ncorrespondent to them, and which they exactly represent.\" Whether\nor not this principle is liable to exceptions, everyone would\nagree that is has a broad measure of truth, though the word\n\"exactly\" might seem an overstatement, and it might seem more\ncorrect to say that ideas APPROXIMATELY represent impressions.\nSuch modifications of Hume's principle, however, do not affect\nthe problem which I wish to present for your consideration,\nnamely: Why do we believe that images are, sometimes or always,\napproximately or exactly, copies of sensations? What sort of\nevidence is there? And what sort of evidence is logically\npossible? The difficulty of this question arises through the fact\nthat the sensation which an image is supposed to copy is in the\npast when the image exists, and can therefore only be known by\nmemory, while, on the other hand, memory of past sensations seems\nonly possible by means of present images. How, then, are we to\nfind any way of comparing the present image and the past\nsensation? The problem is just as acute if we say that images\ndiffer from their prototypes as if we say that they resemble\nthem; it is the very possibility of comparison that is hard to\nunderstand. We think we can know that they are alike or\ndifferent, but we cannot bring them together in one experience\nand compare them. To deal with this problem, we must have a\ntheory of memory. In this way the whole status of images as\n\"copies\" is bound up with the analysis of memory.\n\nIn investigating memory-beliefs, there are certain points which\nmust be borne in mind. In the first place, everything\nconstituting a memory-belief is happening now, not in that past\ntime to which the belief is said to refer. It is not logically\nnecessary to the existence of a memory-belief that the event\nremembered should have occurred, or even that the past should\nhave existed at all. There is no logical impossibility in the\nhypothesis that the world sprang into being five minutes ago,\nexactly as it then was, with a population that \"remembered\" a\nwholly unreal past. There is no logically necessary connection\nbetween events at different times; therefore nothing that is\nhappening now or will happen in the future can disprove the\nhypothesis that the world began five minutes ago. Hence the\noccurrences which are CALLED knowledge of the past are logically\nindependent of the past; they are wholly analysable into present\ncontents, which might, theoretically, be just what they are even\nif no past had existed.\n\nI am not suggesting that the non-existence of the past should be\nentertained as a serious hypothesis. Like all sceptical\nhypotheses, it is logically tenable, but uninteresting. All that\nI am doing is to use its logical tenability as a help in the\nanalysis of what occurs when we remember.\n\nIn the second place, images without beliefs are insufficient to\nconstitute memory; and habits are still more insufficient. The\nbehaviourist, who attempts to make psychology a record of\nbehaviour, has to trust his memory in making the record. \"Habit\"\nis a concept involving the occurrence of similar events at\ndifferent times; if the behaviourist feels confident that there\nis such a phenomenon as habit, that can only be because he trusts\nhis memory, when it assures him that there have been other times.\nAnd the same applies to images. If we are to know as it is\nsupposed we do--that images are \"copies,\" accurate or inaccurate,\nof past events, something more than the mere occurrence of images\nmust go to constitute this knowledge. For their mere occurrence,\nby itself, would not suggest any connection with anything that\nhad happened before.\n\nCan we constitute memory out of images together with suitable\nbeliefs? We may take it that memory-images, when they occur in\ntrue memory, are (a) known to be copies, (b) sometimes known to\nbe imperfect copies (cf. footnote on previous page). How is it\npossible to know that a memory-image is an imperfect copy,\nwithout having a more accurate copy by which to replace it? This\nwould SEEM to suggest that we have a way of knowing the past\nwhich is independent of images, by means of which we can\ncriticize image-memories. But I do not think such an inference is\nwarranted.\n\nWhat results, formally, from our knowledge of the past through\nimages of which we recognize the inaccuracy, is that such images\nmust have two characteristics by which we can arrange them in two\nseries, of which one corresponds to the more or less remote\nperiod in the past to which they refer, and the other to our\ngreater or less confidence in their accuracy. We will take the\nsecond of these points first.\n\nOur confidence or lack of confidence in the accuracy of a\nmemory-image must, in fundamental cases, be based upon a\ncharacteristic of the image itself, since we cannot evoke the\npast bodily and compare it with the present image. It might be\nsuggested that vagueness is the required characteristic, but I do\nnot think this is the case. We sometimes have images that are by\nno means peculiarly vague, which yet we do not trust--for\nexample, under the influence of fatigue we may see a friend's\nface vividly and clearly, but horribly distorted. In such a case\nwe distrust our image in spite of its being unusually clear. I\nthink the characteristic by which we distinguish the images we\ntrust is the feeling of FAMILIARITY that accompanies them. Some\nimages, like some sensations, feel very familiar, while others\nfeel strange. Familiarity is a feeling capable of degrees. In an\nimage of a well-known face, for example, some parts may feel more\nfamiliar than others; when this happens, we have more belief in\nthe accuracy of the familiar parts than in that of the unfamiliar\nparts. I think it is by this means that we become critical of\nimages, not by some imageless memory with which we compare them.\nI shall return to the consideration of familiarity shortly.\n\nI come now to the other characteristic which memory-images must\nhave in order to account for our knowledge of the past. They must\nhave some characteristic which makes us regard them as referring\nto more or less remote portions of the past. That is to say if we\nsuppose that A is the event remembered, B the remembering, and t\nthe interval of time between A and B, there must be some\ncharacteristic of B which is capable of degrees, and which, in\naccurately dated memories, varies as t varies. It may increase as\nt increases, or diminish as t increases. The question which of\nthese occurs is not of any importance for the theoretic\nserviceability of the characteristic in question.\n\nIn actual fact, there are doubtless various factors that concur\nin giving us the feeling of greater or less remoteness in some\nremembered event. There may be a specific feeling which could be\ncalled the feeling of \"pastness,\" especially where immediate\nmemory is concerned. But apart from this, there are other marks.\nOne of these is context. A recent memory has, usually, more\ncontext than a more distant one. When a remembered event has a\nremembered context, this may occur in two ways, either (a) by\nsuccessive images in the same order as their prototypes, or (b)\nby remembering a whole process simultaneously, in the same way in\nwhich a present process may be apprehended, through akoluthic\nsensations which, by fading, acquire the mark of just-pastness in\nan increasing degree as they fade, and are thus placed in a\nseries while all sensibly present. It will be context in this\nsecond sense, more specially, that will give us a sense of the\nnearness or remoteness of a remembered event.\n\nThere is, of course, a difference between knowing the temporal\nrelation of a remembered event to the present, and knowing the\ntime-order of two remembered events. Very often our knowledge of\nthe temporal relation of a remembered event to the present is\ninferred from its temporal relations to other remembered events.\nIt would seem that only rather recent events can be placed at all\naccurately by means of feelings giving their temporal relation to\nthe present, but it is clear that such feelings must play an\nessential part in the process of dating remembered events.\n\nWe may say, then, that images are regarded by us as more or less\naccurate copies of past occurrences because they come to us with\ntwo sorts of feelings: (1) Those that may be called feelings of\nfamiliarity; (2) those that may be collected together as feelings\ngiving a sense of pastness. The first lead us to trust our\nmemories, the second to assign places to them in the time-order.\n\nWe have now to analyse the memory-belief, as opposed to the\ncharacteristics of images which lead us to base memory-beliefs\nupon them.\n\nIf we had retained the \"subject\" or \"act\" in knowledge, the whole\nproblem of memory would have been comparatively simple. We could\nthen have said that remembering is a direct relation between the\npresent act or subject and the past occurrence remembered: the\nact of remembering is present, though its object is past. But the\nrejection of the subject renders some more complicated theory\nnecessary. Remembering has to be a present occurrence in some way\nresembling, or related to, what is remembered. And it is\ndifficult to find any ground, except a pragmatic one, for\nsupposing that memory is not sheer delusion, if, as seems to be\nthe case, there is not, apart from memory, any way of\nascertaining that there really was a past occurrence having the\nrequired relation to our present remembering. What, if we\nfollowed Meinong's terminology, we should call the \"object\" in\nmemory, i.e. the past event which we are said to be remembering,\nis unpleasantly remote from the \"content,\" i.e. the present\nmental occurrence in remembering. There is an awkward gulf\nbetween the two, which raises difficulties for the theory of\nknowledge. But we must not falsify observation to avoid\ntheoretical difficulties. For the present, therefore, let us\nforget these problems, and try to discover what actually occurs\nin memory.\n\nSome points may be taken as fixed, and such as any theory of\nmemory must arrive at. In this case, as in most others, what may\nbe taken as certain in advance is rather vague. The study of any\ntopic is like the continued observation of an object which is\napproaching us along a road: what is certain to begin with is the\nquite vague knowledge that there is SOME object on the road. If\nyou attempt to be less vague, and to assert that the object is an\nelephant, or a man, or a mad dog, you run a risk of error; but\nthe purpose of continued observation is to enable you to arrive\nat such more precise knowledge. In like manner, in the study of\nmemory, the certainties with which you begin are very vague, and\nthe more precise propositions at which you try to arrive are less\ncertain than the hazy data from which you set out. Nevertheless,\nin spite of the risk of error, precision is the goal at which we\nmust aim.\n\nThe first of our vague but indubitable data is that there is\nknowledge of the past. We do not yet know with any precision what\nwe mean by \"knowledge,\" and we must admit that in any given\ninstance our memory may be at fault. Nevertheless, whatever a\nsceptic might urge in theory, we cannot practically doubt that we\ngot up this morning, that we did various things yesterday, that a\ngreat war has been taking place, and so on. How far our knowledge\nof the past is due to memory, and how far to other sources, is of\ncourse a matter to be investigated, but there can be no doubt\nthat memory forms an indispensable part of our knowledge of the\npast.\n\nThe second datum is that we certainly have more capacity for\nknowing the past than for knowing the future. We know some things\nabout the future, for example what eclipses there will be; but\nthis knowledge is a matter of elaborate calculation and\ninference, whereas some of our knowledge of the past comes to us\nwithout effort, in the same sort of immediate way in which we\nacquire knowledge of occurrences in our present environment. We\nmight provisionally, though perhaps not quite correctly, define\n\"memory\" as that way of knowing about the past which has no\nanalogue in our knowledge of the future; such a definition would\nat least serve to mark the problem with which we are concerned,\nthough some expectations may deserve to rank with memory as\nregards immediacy.\n\nA third point, perhaps not quite so certain as our previous two,\nis that the truth of memory cannot be wholly practical, as\npragmatists wish all truth to be. It seems clear that some of the\nthings I remember are trivial and without any visible importance\nfor the future, but that my memory is true (or false) in virtue\nof a past event, not in virtue of any future consequences of my\nbelief. The definition of truth as the correspondence between\nbeliefs and facts seems peculiarly evident in the case of memory,\nas against not only the pragmatist definition but also the\nidealist definition by means of coherence. These considerations,\nhowever, are taking us away from psychology, to which we must now\nreturn.\n\nIt is important not to confuse the two forms of memory which\nBergson distinguishes in the second chapter of his \"Matter and\nMemory,\" namely the sort that consists of habit, and the sort\nthat consists of independent recollection. He gives the instance\nof learning a lesson by heart: when I know it by heart I am said\nto \"remember\" it, but this merely means that I have acquired\ncertain habits; on the other hand, my recollection of (say) the\nsecond time I read the lesson while I was learning it is the\nrecollection of a unique event, which occurred only once. The\nrecollection of a unique event cannot, so Bergson contends, be\nwholly constituted by habit, and is in fact something radically\ndifferent from the memory which is habit. The recollection alone\nis true memory. This distinction is vital to the understanding of\nmemory. But it is not so easy to carry out in practice as it is\nto draw in theory. Habit is a very intrusive feature of our\nmental life, and is often present where at first sight it seems\nnot to be. There is, for example, a habit of remembering a unique\nevent. When we have once described the event, the words we have\nused easily become habitual. We may even have used words to\ndescribe it to ourselves while it was happening; in that case,\nthe habit of these words may fulfil the function of Bergson's\ntrue memory, while in reality it is nothing but habit-memory. A\ngramophone, by the help of suitable records, might relate to us\nthe incidents of its past; and people are not so different from\ngramophones as they like to believe.\n\nIn spite, however, of a difficulty in distinguishing the two\nforms of memory in practice, there can be no doubt that both\nforms exist. I can set to work now to remember things I never\nremembered before, such as what I had to eat for breakfast this\nmorning, and it can hardly be wholly habit that enables me to do\nthis. It is this sort of occurrence that constitutes the essence\nof memory Until we have analysed what happens in such a case as\nthis, we have not succeeded in understanding memory.\n\nThe sort of memory with which we are here concerned is the sort\nwhich is a form of knowledge. Whether knowledge itself is\nreducible to habit is a question to which I shall return in a\nlater lecture; for the present I am only anxious to point out\nthat, whatever the true analysis of knowledge may be, knowledge\nof past occurrences is not proved by behaviour which is due to\npast experience. The fact that a man can recite a poem does not\nshow that he remembers any previous occasion on which he has\nrecited or read it. Similarly, the performances of animals in\ngetting out of cages or mazes to which they are accustomed do not\nprove that they remember having been in the same situation\nbefore. Arguments in favour of (for example) memory in plants are\nonly arguments in favour of habit-memory, not of knowledge-memory. Samuel Butler's arguments in favour of the view that an\nanimal remembers something of the lives of its ancestors are,\nwhen examined, only arguments in favour of habit-memory. Semon's\ntwo books, mentioned in an earlier lecture, do not touch\nknowledge-memory at all closely. They give laws according to\nwhich images of past occurrences come into our minds, but do not\ndiscuss our belief that these images refer to past occurrences,\nwhich is what constitutes knowledge-memory. It is this that is of\ninterest to theory of knowledge. I shall speak of it as \"true\"\nmemory, to distinguish it from mere habit acquired through past\nexperience. Before considering true memory, it will be well to\nconsider two things which are on the way towards memory, namely\nthe feeling of familiarity and recognition.\n\nWe often feel that something in our sensible environment is\nfamiliar, without having any definite recollection of previous\noccasions on which we have seen it. We have this feeling normally\nin places where we have often been before--at home, or in\nwell-known streets. Most people and animals find it essential to\ntheir happiness to spend a good deal of their time in familiar\nsurroundings, which are especially comforting when any danger\nthreatens. The feeling of familiarity has all sorts of degrees,\ndown to the stage where we dimly feel that we have seen a person\nbefore. It is by no means always reliable; almost everybody has\nat some time experienced the well-known illusion that all that is\nhappening now happened before at some time. There are occasions\nwhen familiarity does not attach itself to any definite object,\nwhen there is merely a vague feeling that SOMETHING is familiar.\nThis is illustrated by Turgenev's \"Smoke,\" where the hero is long\npuzzled by a haunting sense that something in his present is\nrecalling something in his past, and at last traces it to the\nsmell of heliotrope. Whenever the sense of familiarity occurs\nwithout a definite object, it leads us to search the environment\nuntil we are satisfied that we have found the appropriate object,\nwhich leads us to the judgment: \"THIS is familiar.\" I think we\nmay regard familiarity as a definite feeling, capable of existing\nwithout an object, but normally standing in a specific relation\nto some feature of the environment, the relation being that which\nwe express in words by saying that the feature in question is\nfamiliar. The judgment that what is familiar has been experienced\nbefore is a product of reflection, and is no part of the feeling\nof familiarity, such as a horse may be supposed to have when he\nreturns to his stable. Thus no knowledge as to the past is to be\nderived from the feeling of familiarity alone.\n\nA further stage is RECOGNITION. This may be taken in two senses,\nthe first when a thing not merely feels familiar, but we know it\nis such-and-such. We recognize our friend Jones, we know cats and\ndogs when we see them, and so on. Here we have a definite\ninfluence of past experience, but not necessarily any actual\nknowledge of the past. When we see a cat, we know it is a cat\nbecause of previous cats we have seen, but we do not, as a rule,\nrecollect at the moment any particular occasion when we have seen\na cat. Recognition in this sense does not necessarily involve\nmore than a habit of association: the kind of object we are\nseeing at the moment is associated with the word \"cat,\" or with\nan auditory image of purring, or whatever other characteristic we\nmay happen to recognize in. the cat of the moment. We are, of\ncourse, in fact able to judge, when we recognize an object, that\nwe have seen it before, but this judgment is something over and\nabove recognition in this first sense, and may very probably be\nimpossible to animals that nevertheless have the experience of\nrecognition in this first sense of the word.\n\nThere is, however, another sense of the word, in which we mean by\nrecognition, not knowing the name of a thing or some other\nproperty of it, but knowing that we have seen it before In this\nsense recognition does involve knowledge about the past. This\nknowledge is memory in one sense, though in another it is not. It\ndoes not involve a definite memory of a definite past event, but\nonly the knowledge that something happening now is similar to\nsomething that happened before. It differs from the sense of\nfamiliarity by being cognitive; it is a belief or judgment, which\nthe sense of familiarity is not. I do not wish to undertake the\nanalysis of belief at present, since it will be the subject of\nthe twelfth lecture; for the present I merely wish to emphasize\nthe fact that recognition, in our second sense, consists in a\nbelief, which we may express approximately in the words: \"This\nhas existed before.\"\n\nThere are, however, several points in which such an account of\nrecognition is inadequate. To begin with, it might seem at first\nsight more correct to define recognition as \"I have seen this\nbefore\" than as \"this has existed before.\" We recognize a thing\n(it may be urged) as having been in our experience before,\nwhatever that may mean; we do not recognize it as merely having\nbeen in the world before. I am not sure that there is anything\nsubstantial in this point. The definition of \"my experience\" is\ndifficult; broadly speaking, it is everything that is connected\nwith what I am experiencing now by certain links, of which the\nvarious forms of memory are among the most important. Thus, if I\nrecognize a thing, the occasion of its previous existence in\nvirtue of which I recognize it forms part of \"my experience\" by\nDEFINITION: recognition will be one of the marks by which my\nexperience is singled out from the rest of the world. Of course,\nthe words \"this has existed before\" are a very inadequate\ntranslation of what actually happens when we form a judgment of\nrecognition, but that is unavoidable: words are framed to express\na level of thought which is by no means primitive, and are quite\nincapable of expressing such an elementary occurrence as\nrecognition. I shall return to what is virtually the same\nquestion in connection with true memory, which raises exactly\nsimilar problems.\n\nA second point is that, when we recognize something, it was not\nin fact the very same thing, but only something similar, that we\nexperienced on a former occasion. Suppose the object in question\nis a friend's face. A person's face is always changing, and is\nnot exactly the same on any two occasions. Common sense treats it\nas one face with varying expressions; but the varying expressions\nactually exist, each at its proper time, while the one face is\nmerely a logical construction. We regard two objects as the same,\nfor common-sense purposes, when the reaction they call for is\npractically the same. Two visual appearances, to both of which it\nis appropriate to say: \"Hullo, Jones!\" are treated as appearances\nof one identical object, namely Jones. The name \"Jones\" is\napplicable to both, and it is only reflection that shows us that\nmany diverse particulars are collected together to form the\nmeaning of the name \"Jones.\" What we see on any one occasion is\nnot the whole series of particulars that make up Jones, but only\none of them (or a few in quick succession). On another occasion\nwe see another member of the series, but it is sufficiently\nsimilar to count as the same from the standpoint of common sense.\nAccordingly, when we judge \"I have seen THIS before,\" we judge\nfalsely if \"this\" is taken as applying to the actual constituent\nof the world that we are seeing at the moment. The word \"this\"\nmust be interpreted vaguely so as to include anything\nsufficiently like what we are seeing at the moment. Here, again,\nwe shall find a similar point as regards true memory; and in\nconnection with true memory we will consider the point again. It\nis sometimes suggested, by those who favour behaviourist views,\nthat recognition consists in behaving in the same way when a\nstimulus is repeated as we behaved on the first occasion when it\noccurred. This seems to be the exact opposite of the truth. The\nessence of recognition is in the DIFFERENCE between a repeated\nstimulus and a new one. On the first occasion there is no\nrecognition; on the second occasion there is. In fact,\nrecognition is another instance of the peculiarity of causal laws\nin psychology, namely, that the causal unit is not a single\nevent, but two or more events Habit is the great instance of\nthis, but recognition is another. A stimulus occurring once has a\ncertain effect; occurring twice, it has the further effect of\nrecognition. Thus the phenomenon of recognition has as its cause\nthe two occasions when the stimulus has occurred; either alone is\ninsufficient. This complexity of causes in psychology might be\nconnected with Bergson's arguments against repetition in the\nmental world. It does not prove that there are no causal laws in\npsychology, as Bergson suggests; but it does prove that the\ncausal laws of psychology are Prima facie very different from\nthose of physics. On the possibility of explaining away the\ndifference as due to the peculiarities of nervous tissue I have\nspoken before, but this possibility must not be forgotten if we\nare tempted to draw unwarranted metaphysical deductions.\n\nTrue memory, which we must now endeavour to understand, consists\nof knowledge of past events, but not of all such knowledge. Some\nknowledge of past events, for example what we learn through\nreading history, is on a par with the knowledge we can acquire\nconcerning the future: it is obtained by inference, not (so to\nspeak) spontaneously. There is a similar distinction in our\nknowledge of the present: some of it is obtained through the\nsenses, some in more indirect ways. I know that there are at this\nmoment a number of people in the streets of New York, but I do\nnot know this in the immediate way in which I know of the people\nwhom I see by looking out of my window. It is not easy to state\nprecisely wherein the difference between these two sorts of\nknowledge consists, but it is easy to feel the difference. For\nthe moment, I shall not stop to analyse it, but shall content\nmyself with saying that, in this respect, memory resembles the\nknowledge derived from the senses. It is immediate, not inferred,\nnot abstract; it differs from perception mainly by being referred\nto the past.\n\nIn regard to memory, as throughout the analysis of knowledge,\nthere are two very distinct problems, namely (1) as to the nature\nof the present occurrence in knowing; (2) as to the relation of\nthis occurrence to what is known. When we remember, the knowing\nis now, while what is known is in the past. Our two questions\nare, in the case of memory\n\n(1) What is the present occurrence when we remember?\n\n(2) What is the relation of this present occurrence to the past\nevent which is remembered?\n\nOf these two questions, only the first concerns the psychologist;\nthe second belongs to theory of knowledge. At the same time, if\nwe accept the vague datum with which we began, to the effect\nthat, in some sense, there is knowledge of the past, we shall\nhave to find, if we can, such an account of the present\noccurrence in remembering as will make it not impossible for\nremembering to give us knowledge of the past. For the present,\nhowever, we shall do well to forget the problems concerning\ntheory of knowledge, and concentrate upon the purely\npsychological problem of memory.\n\nBetween memory-image and sensation there is an intermediate\nexperience concerning the immediate past. For example, a sound\nthat we have just heard is present to us in a way which differs\nboth from the sensation while we are hearing the sound and from\nthe memory-image of something heard days or weeks ago. James\nstates that it is this way of apprehending the immediate past\nthat is \"the ORIGINAL of our experience of pastness, from whence\nwe get the meaning of the term\"(\"Psychology,\" i, p. 604).\nEveryone knows the experience of noticing (say) that the clock\nHAS BEEN striking, when we did not notice it while it was\nstriking. And when we hear a remark spoken, we are conscious of\nthe earlier words while the later ones are being uttered, and\nthis retention feels different from recollection of something\ndefinitely past. A sensation fades gradually, passing by\ncontinuous gradations to the status of an image. This retention\nof the immediate past in a condition intermediate between\nsensation and image may be called \"immediate memory.\" Everything\nbelonging to it is included with sensation in what is called the\n\"specious present.\" The specious present includes elements at all\nstages on the journey from sensation to image. It is this fact\nthat enables us to apprehend such things as movements, or the\norder of the words in a spoken sentence. Succession can occur\nwithin the specious present, of which we can distinguish some\nparts as earlier and others as later. It is to be supposed that\nthe earliest parts are those that have faded most from their\noriginal force, while the latest parts are those that retain\ntheir full sensational character. At the beginning of a stimulus\nwe have a sensation; then a gradual transition; and at the end an\nimage. Sensations while they are fading are called \"akoluthic\"\nsensations. When the process of fading is completed (which\nhappens very quickly), we arrive at the image, which is capable\nof being revived on subsequent occasions with very little change.\nTrue memory, as opposed to \"immediate memory,\" applies only to\nevents sufficiently distant to have come to an end of the period\nof fading. Such events, if they are represented by anything\npresent, can only be represented by images, not by those\nintermediate stages, between sensations and images, which occur\nduring the period of fading.\n\nImmediate memory is important both because it provides experience\nof succession, and because it bridges the gulf between sensations\nand the images which are their copies. But it is now time to\nresume the consideration of true memory.\n\nSuppose you ask me what I ate for breakfast this morning.\nSuppose, further, that I have not thought about my breakfast in\nthe meantime, and that I did not, while I was eating it, put into\nwords what it consisted of. In this case my recollection will be\ntrue memory, not habit-memory. The process of remembering will\nconsist of calling up images of my breakfast, which will come to\nme with a feeling of belief such as distinguishes memory-images\nfrom mere imagination-images. Or sometimes words may come without\nthe intermediary of images; but in this case equally the feeling\nof belief is essential.\n\nLet us omit from our consideration, for the present, the memories\nin which words replace images. These are always, I think, really\nhabit-memories, the memories that use images being the typical\ntrue memories.\n\nMemory-images and imagination-images do not differ in their\nintrinsic qualities, so far as we can discover. They differ by\nthe fact that the images that constitute memories, unlike those\nthat constitute imagination, are accompanied by a feeling of\nbelief which may be expressed in the words \"this happened.\" The\nmere occurrence of images, without this feeling of belief,\nconstitutes imagination; it is the element of belief that is the\ndistinctive thing in memory.\n\nThere are, if I am not mistaken, at least three different kinds\nof belief-feeling, which we may call respectively memory,\nexpectation and bare assent. In what I call bare assent, there is\nno time-element in the feeling of belief, though there may be in\nthe content of what is believed. If I believe that Caesar landed\nin Britain in B.C. 55, the time-determination lies, not in the\nfeeling of belief, but in what is believed. I do not remember the\noccurrence, but have the same feeling towards it as towards the\nannouncement of an eclipse next year. But when I have seen a\nflash of lightning and am waiting for the thunder, I have a\nbelief-feeling analogous to memory, except that it refers to the\nfuture: I have an image of thunder, combined with a feeling which\nmay be expressed in the words: \"this will happen.\" So, in memory,\nthe pastness lies, not in the content of what is believed, but in\nthe nature of the belief-feeling. I might have just the same\nimages and expect their realization; I might entertain them\nwithout any belief, as in reading a novel; or I might entertain\nthem together with a time-determination, and give bare assent, as\nin reading history. I shall return to this subject in a later\nlecture, when we come to the analysis of belief. For the present,\nI wish to make it clear that a certain special kind of belief is\nthe distinctive characteristic of memory.\n\nThe problem as to whether memory can be explained as habit or\nassociation requires to be considered afresh in connection with\nthe causes of our remembering something. Let us take again the\ncase of my being asked what I had for breakfast this morning. In\nthis case the question leads to my setting to work to recollect.\nIt is a little strange that the question should instruct me as to\nwhat it is that I am to recall. This has to do with understanding\nwords, which will be the topic of the next lecture; but something\nmust be said about it now. Our understanding of the words\n\"breakfast this morning\" is a habit, in spite of the fact that on\neach fresh day they point to a different occasion. \"This morning\"\ndoes not, whenever it is used, mean the same thing, as \"John\" or\n\"St. Paul's\" does; it means a different period of time on each\ndifferent day. It follows that the habit which constitutes our\nunderstanding of the words \"this morning\" is not the habit of\nassociating the words with a fixed object, but the habit of\nassociating them with something having a fixed time-relation to\nour present. This morning has, to-day, the same time-relation to\nmy present that yesterday morning had yesterday. In order to\nunderstand the phrase \"this morning\" it is necessary that we\nshould have a way of feeling time-intervals, and that this\nfeeling should give what is constant in the meaning of the words\n\"this morning.\" This appreciation of time-intervals is, however,\nobviously a product of memory, not a presupposition of it. It\nwill be better, therefore, if we wish to analyse the causation of\nmemory by something not presupposing memory, to take some other\ninstance than that of a question about \"this morning.\"\n\nLet us take the case of coming into a familiar room where\nsomething has been changed--say a new picture hung on the wall.\nWe may at first have only a sense that SOMETHING is unfamiliar,\nbut presently we shall remember, and say \"that picture was not on\nthe wall before.\" In order to make the case definite, we will\nsuppose that we were only in the room on one former occasion. In\nthis case it seems fairly clear what happens. The other objects\nin the room are associated, through the former occasion, with a\nblank space of wall where now there is a picture. They call up an\nimage of a blank wall, which clashes with perception of the\npicture. The image is associated with the belief-feeling which we\nfound to be distinctive of memory, since it can neither be\nabolished nor harmonized with perception. If the room had\nremained unchanged, we might have had only the feeling of\nfamiliarity without the definite remembering; it is the change\nthat drives us from the present to memory of the past.\n\nWe may generalize this instance so as to cover the causes of many\nmemories. Some present feature of the environment is associated,\nthrough past experiences, with something now absent; this absent\nsomething comes before us as an image, and is contrasted with\npresent sensation. In cases of this sort, habit (or association)\nexplains why the present feature of the environment brings up the\nmemory-image, but it does not explain the memory-belief. Perhaps\na more complete analysis could explain the memory-belief also on\nlines of association and habit, but the causes of beliefs are\nobscure, and we cannot investigate them yet. For the present we\nmust content ourselves with the fact that the memory-image can be\nexplained by habit. As regards the memory-belief, we must, at\nleast provisionally, accept Bergson's view that it cannot be\nbrought under the head of habit, at any rate when it first\noccurs, i.e. when we remember something we never remembered\nbefore.\n\nWe must now consider somewhat more closely the content of a\nmemory-belief. The memory-belief confers upon the memory-image\nsomething which we may call \"meaning;\" it makes us feel that the\nimage points to an object which existed in the past. In order to\ndeal with this topic we must consider the verbal expression of\nthe memory-belief. We might be tempted to put the memory-belief\ninto the words: \"Something like this image occurred.\" But such\nwords would be very far from an accurate translation of the\nsimplest kind of memory-belief. \"Something like this image\" is a\nvery complicated conception. In the simplest kind of memory we\nare not aware of the difference between an image and the\nsensation which it copies, which may be called its \"prototype.\"\nWhen the image is before us, we judge rather \"this occurred.\" The\nimage is not distinguished from the object which existed in the\npast: the word \"this\" covers both, and enables us to have a\nmemory-belief which does not introduce the complicated notion\n\"something like this.\"\n\nIt might be objected that, if we judge \"this occurred\" when in\nfact \"this\" is a present image, we judge falsely, and the\nmemory-belief, so interpreted, becomes deceptive. This, however,\nwould be a mistake, produced by attempting to give to words a\nprecision which they do not possess when used by unsophisticated\npeople. It is true that the image is not absolutely identical\nwith its prototype, and if the word \"this\" meant the image to the\nexclusion of everything else, the judgment \"this occurred\" would\nbe false. But identity is a precise conception, and no word, in\nordinary speech, stands for anything precise. Ordinary speech\ndoes not distinguish between identity and close similarity. A\nword always applies, not only to one particular, but to a group\nof associated particulars, which are not recognized as multiple\nin common thought or speech. Thus primitive memory, when it\njudges that \"this occurred,\" is vague, but not false.\n\nVague identity, which is really close similarity, has been a\nsource of many of the confusions by which philosophy has lived.\nOf a vague subject, such as a \"this,\" which is both an image and\nits prototype, contradictory predicates are true simultaneously:\nthis existed and does not exist, since it is a thing remembered,\nbut also this exists and did not exist, since it is a present\nimage. Hence Bergson's interpenetration of the present by the\npast, Hegelian continuity and identity-in-diversity, and a host\nof other notions which are thought to be profound because they\nare obscure and confused. The contradictions resulting from\nconfounding image and prototype in memory force us to precision.\nBut when we become precise, our remembering becomes different\nfrom that of ordinary life, and if we forget this we shall go\nwrong in the analysis of ordinary memory.\n\nVagueness and accuracy are important notions, which it is very\nnecessary to understand. Both are a matter of degree. All\nthinking is vague to some extent, and complete accuracy is a\ntheoretical ideal not practically attainable. To understand what\nis meant by accuracy, it will be well to consider first\ninstruments of measurement, such as a balance or a thermometer.\nThese are said to be accurate when they give different results\nfor very slightly different stimuli. A clinical thermometer is\naccurate when it enables us to detect very slight differences in\nthe temperature of the blood. We may say generally that an\ninstrument is accurate in proportion as it reacts differently to\nvery slightly different stimuli. When a small difference of\nstimulus produces a great difference of reaction, the instrument\nis accurate; in the contrary case it is not.\n\nExactly the same thing applies in defining accuracy of thought or\nperception. A musician will respond differently to very minute\ndifferences in playing which would be quite imperceptible to the\nordinary mortal. A negro can see the difference between one negro\nand another one is his friend, another his enemy. But to us such\ndifferent responses are impossible: we can merely apply the word\n\"negro\" indiscriminately. Accuracy of response in regard to any\nparticular kind of stimulus is improved by practice.\nUnderstanding a language is a case in point. Few Frenchmen can\nhear any difference between the sounds \"hall\" and \"hole,\" which\nproduce quite different impressions upon us. The two statements\n\"the hall is full of water\" and \"the hole is full of water\" call\nfor different responses, and a hearing which cannot distinguish\nbetween them is inaccurate or vague in this respect.\n\nPrecision and vagueness in thought, as in perception, depend upon\nthe degree of difference between responses to more or less\nsimilar stimuli. In the case of thought, the response does not\nfollow immediately upon the sensational stimulus, but that makes\nno difference as regards our present question. Thus to revert to\nmemory: A memory is \"vague\" when it is appropriate to many\ndifferent occurrences: for instance, \"I met a man\" is vague,\nsince any man would verify it. A memory is \"precise\" when the\noccurrences that would verify it are narrowly circumscribed: for\ninstance, \"I met Jones\" is precise as compared to \"I met a man.\"\nA memory is \"accurate\" when it is both precise and true, i.e. in\nthe above instance, if it was Jones I met. It is precise even if\nit is false, provided some very definite occurrence would have\nbeen required to make it true.\n\nIt follows from what has been said that a vague thought has more\nlikelihood of being true than a precise one. To try and hit an\nobject with a vague thought is like trying to hit the bull's eye\nwith a lump of putty: when the putty reaches the target, it\nflattens out all over it, and probably covers the bull's eye\nalong with the rest. To try and hit an object with a precise\nthought is like trying to hit the bull's eye with a bullet. The\nadvantage of the precise thought is that it distinguishes between\nthe bull's eye and the rest of the target. For example, if the\nwhole target is represented by the fungus family and the bull's\neye by mushrooms, a vague thought which can only hit the target\nas a whole is not much use from a culinary point of view. And\nwhen I merely remember that I met a man, my memory may be very\ninadequate to my practical requirements, since it may make a\ngreat difference whether I met Brown or Jones. The memory \"I met\nJones\" is relatively precise. It is accurate if I met Jones,\ninaccurate if I met Brown, but precise in either case as against\nthe mere recollection that I met a man.\n\nThe distinction between accuracy and precision is however, not\nfundamental. We may omit precision from out thoughts and confine\nourselves to the distinction between accuracy and vagueness. We\nmay then set up the following definitions:\n\nAn instrument is \"reliable\" with respect to a given set of\nstimuli when to stimuli which are not relevantly different it\ngives always responses which are not relevantly different.\n\nAn instrument is a \"measure\" of a set of stimuli which are\nserially ordered when its responses, in all cases where they are\nrelevantly different, are arranged in a series in the same order.\n\nThe \"degree of accuracy\" of an instrument which is a reliable\nmeasurer is the ratio of the difference of response to the\ndifference of stimulus in cases where the difference of stimulus\nis small. That is to say, if a small difference of stimulus\nproduces a great difference of response, the instrument is very\naccurate; in the contrary case, very inaccurate.\n\nA mental response is called \"vague\" in proportion to its lack of\naccuracy, or rather precision.\n\nThese definitions will be found useful, not only in the case of\nmemory, but in almost all questions concerned with knowledge.\n\nIt should be observed that vague beliefs, so far from being\nnecessarily false, have a better chance of truth than precise\nones, though their truth is less valuable than that of precise\nbeliefs, since they do not distinguish between occurrences which\nmay differ in important ways.\n\nThe whole of the above discussion of vagueness and accuracy was\noccasioned by the attempt to interpret the word \"this\" when we\njudge in verbal memory that \"this occurred.\" The word \"this,\" in\nsuch a judgment, is a vague word, equally applicable to the\npresent memory-image and to the past occurrence which is its\nprototype. A vague word is not to be identified with a general\nword, though in practice the distinction may often be blurred. A\nword is general when it is understood to be applicable to a\nnumber of different objects in virtue of some common property. A\nword is vague when it is in fact applicable to a number of\ndifferent objects because, in virtue of some common property,\nthey have not appeared, to the person using the word, to be\ndistinct. I emphatically do not mean that he has judged them to\nbe identical, but merely that he has made the same response to\nthem all and has not judged them to be different. We may compare\na vague word to a jelly and a general word to a heap of shot.\nVague words precede judgments of identity and difference; both\ngeneral and particular words are subsequent to such judgments.\nThe word \"this\" in the primitive memory-belief is a vague word,\nnot a general word; it covers both the image and its prototype\nbecause the two are not distinguished.\n\nBut we have not yet finished our analysis of the memory-belief.\nThe tense in the belief that \"this occurred\" is provided by the\nnature of the belief-feeling involved in memory; the word \"this,\"\nas we have seen, has a vagueness which we have tried to describe.\nBut we must still ask what we mean by \"occurred.\" The image is,\nin one sense, occurring now; and therefore we must find some\nother sense in which the past event occurred but the image does\nnot occur.\n\nThere are two distinct questions to be asked: (1) What causes us\nto say that a thing occurs? (2) What are we feeling when we say\nthis? As to the first question, in the crude use of the word,\nwhich is what concerns us, memory-images would not be said to\noccur; they would not be noticed in themselves, but merely used\nas signs of the past event. Images are \"merely imaginary\"; they\nhave not, in crude thought, the sort of reality that belongs to\noutside bodies. Roughly speaking, \"real\" things would be those\nthat can cause sensations, those that have correlations of the\nsort that constitute physical objects. A thing is said to be\n\"real\" or to \"occur\" when it fits into a context of such\ncorrelations. The prototype of our memory-image did fit into a\nphysical context, while our memory-image does not. This causes us\nto feel that the prototype was \"real,\" while the image is\n\"imaginary.\"\n\nBut the answer to our second question, namely as to what we are\nfeeling when we say a thing \"occurs\" or is \"real,\" must be\nsomewhat different. We do not, unless we are unusually\nreflective, think about the presence or absence of correlations:\nwe merely have different feelings which, intellectualized, may be\nrepresented as expectations of the presence or absence of\ncorrelations. A thing which \"feels real\" inspires us with hopes\nor fears, expectations or curiosities, which are wholly absent\nwhen a thing \"feels imaginary.\" The feeling of reality is a\nfeeling akin to respect: it belongs PRIMARILY to whatever can do\nthings to us without our voluntary co-operation. This feeling of\nreality, related to the memory-image, and referred to the past by\nthe specific kind of belief-feeling that is characteristic of\nmemory, seems to be what constitutes the act of remembering in\nits pure form.\n\nWe may now summarize our analysis of pure memory.\n\nMemory demands (a) an image, (b) a belief in past existence. The\nbelief may be expressed in the words \"this existed.\"\n\nThe belief, like every other, may be analysed into (1) the\nbelieving, (2) what is believed. The believing is a specific\nfeeling or sensation or complex of sensations, different from\nexpectation or bare assent in a way that makes the belief refer\nto the past; the reference to the past lies in the\nbelief-feeling, not in the content believed. There is a relation\nbetween the belief-feeling and the content, making the\nbelief-feeling refer to the content, and expressed by saying that\nthe content is what is believed.\n\nThe content believed may or may not be expressed in words. Let us\ntake first the case when it is not. In that case, if we are\nmerely remembering that something of which we now have an image\noccurred, the content consists of (a) the image, (b) the feeling,\nanalogous to respect, which we translate by saying that something\nis \"real\" as opposed to \"imaginary,\" (c) a relation between the\nimage and the feeling of reality, of the sort expressed when we\nsay that the feeling refers to the image. This content does not\ncontain in itself any time-determination.\n\nThe time-determination lies in the nature of the belief feeling,\nwhich is that called \"remembering\" or (better) \"recollecting.\" It\nis only subsequent reflection upon this reference to the past\nthat makes us realize the distinction between the image and the\nevent recollected. When we have made this distinction, we can say\nthat the image \"means\" the past event.\n\nThe content expressed in words is best represented by the words\n\"the existence of this,\" since these words do not involve tense,\nwhich belongs to the belief-feeling, not to the content. Here\n\"this\" is a vague term, covering the memory-image and anything\nvery like it, including its prototype. \"Existence\" expresses the\nfeeling of a \"reality\" aroused primarily by whatever can have\neffects upon us without our voluntary co-operation. The word \"of\"\nin the phrase \"the existence of this\" represents the relation\nwhich subsists between the feeling of reality and the \"this.\"\n\nThis analysis of memory is probably extremely faulty, but I do\nnot know how to improve it.\n\nNOTE.-When I speak of a FEELING of belief, I use the word\n\"feeling\" in a popular sense, to cover a sensation or an image or\na complex of sensations or images or both; I use this word\nbecause I do not wish to commit myself to any special analysis of\nthe belief-feeling.","title":"The Analysis of Mind/Lecture IX","tradition":"philosophy-ethics","translated_text":null,"word_count":9034}