The Australasian Journal
of
Psychology and Philosophy
ChcflustralasiaitfournaS
Psychology i Philosophy
Edited by FRANCIS ANDERSON, M.A.
Emeritus Professor of Philosophy in the University of Sydney
With the co-operation of
W. ANDERSON, M.A. (Auckland)
F. W. DUNLOP, M.A., PH.D. (Otago)
M. SCOTT FLETCHER, M.A., B.Lirr. (Br.)
A. C. Fox, M.A. (Perth}
W. R. BOYCE GiBSON,M.A.,D.Sc. (Melb.)
J. A. GUNN, M.A., B.Sc., PH.D. (Melb)
T. A. HUNTER, M.A., M.Sc. (Wellington}
S. C. LAZARUS, MA, D.PHIL. (Melb.)
H. T. LOVELL, M.A., PH.D. (Sydney)
]. P. LOWSON, M.A., M.D. (Brisbane)
A. H. MARTIN, M.A., PH.D. (Sydney)
E. MORRIS MILLER, M.A. Lnr.D. (Hob.)
W. MITCHELL, M.A., D.Sc. (Adelaide)
B. Muscio, M.A. (Sydney)
C. F. SALMOND, M.A. (Canterbury)
]. McK. STEWART, M.A., D.PHIL. (Adel.)
VOL. IIL-
1925
Published by
The Australasian Association of Psychology and Philosophy
Royal Society s House, Elizabeth Street, Sydney, N.S.W
CONTENTS OF VOL. III.
ARTICLES.
Page
ALLEN, L. H Psychological Studies, (1) Repression in Hamlet;
(2) Aversion in Timon of Athens . . . . 52, 207
BARTLETT, F. C The Social Functions of Symbols 1
BECROFT, H. C. Professor Kemp Smith s Theory of the Sensa . . 179
BOYCE GIBSON, W. R Problems of Spiritual Experience, (4) Freedom
and Evil 91
Does the Ideal really Exist? .. .. .. 159
FARMER, ERIC. Motion Study and Psychology 190
Fox, ARTHUR C. The Good as Good Will 12
GISBORNE, F. A. W. The Foundations of Peace 77
GUNN, J. ALEXANDER. Anatole France An Appreciation . . . . 37
Great Modern Thinkers (2), Bergson .. .. 277
HENDERSON, K. T. Troeltsch s Philosophy of History . . . . 254
HOERNLE, R. F. ALFRED. Freud s Psycho-analytic Theory of Taboos
of the Dead 241
KNIGHT, A. REX. Modern Cambridge Philosophers .. .. .. 24
MACCHIORO, VITTORIO. Changes in Christian Thought . . . . 265
MARTIN, A. H. The Present Status of of Psychology . . . . 40
MCKELLAR STEWART, J. The Basis of Morality 120
MILES, G. H. The National Institute of Industrial Psychology . . 235
MILLS, R. C. Economic Aspects of Population 248
SIM MAT, R. Behaviour in the Light of Modern Biological Research 108
WYATT, S. The Machine and the Worker 99
DISCUSSIONS:-
CAMPBELL, PERSIA. Examination of Immigrants .. .. 290
JASPER, T. Sacrifice 287
MARTIN, A. H. AND SIMMAT, R. Behaviour and Modern Biology 219
Muscio, BERNARD. Dr. Haldane s Religion 132
RESEARCHES AND REPORTS:
MARTIN, A. H., DOIG, B. C., AND SIMMAT, R. Some Psychological
Tests applied to Engineering Workshops Appren
tices 57
SIMMAT, R. Industrial Psychology A Short Bibliography .. 294
TAYLOR, WINIFRED. The Application of Intelligence Tests to Per
sonnel in a Retail Store 211
VI
REVIEWS AND NOTICES OF BOOKS Page
ANDERSON, W. Studies in the History of Ideas (Columbia Univ.) . . 297
ANGUS, S.Lutero (V. Macchioro) .. 226
Ecclesiastes and the Early Greek Wisdom Literature
(H. Ranston) 296
BAILEY, V. A. Physico-Chemical Evolution (C. E. Guye) . . . . 306
BENHAM, F. C Employment Relations and the Basic Wage (Pitt
Cobbett Lectures) ... ,., . 306
BOYCE GIBSON, W. R Idealism as a Philosophical Doctrine (R. F.
Alfred Hoernle) . 141
EDITOR. Die Lebenspsychologie von Mueller-Freienfels (Feldkeller) 305
GIBSON, LUCY J. Die Psychologic der Frauen (G. .Helmans) . . . . 145
GUNN, J. ALEXANDER. The Philosophy of Emile Boutroux (L. S.
Crawford) 302
HUNTER, T. A. Fundamentals of Psychology (W. B. Pillsbury);
Fundamentals of Vocational Psychology (C. Griffits) 139
A Study of Practical Ability (M. McFarlane) .. 307
LAZARUS, S. C. Introduction to Modern Philosophy (C. E. M. Joad) 71
LOVE, E. F. J. Scientific Papers (S. B. McLaren) 149
LOVELL, H. TASMAN. Seventh International Congress of Psychology 135
"Polly Hedron" (N. S. Osbourne) .. .. 154
MACKIE, A. The Purpose of Education (St. G. Lane Fox Pitt) .. 154
McCowN, C. C. The Mystery Religions and Christianity (S. Angus) 299
MARTIN, A. H. Principles of Psychology (J. R. Kantor) , . . . 303
Measured Judgments of Practical Men (Binns) . . 305
Comparison of Visual and Tactual Judgment (Binns
and Roper) , . 305
MERRINGTON, E. M. The Psychology of Religion (W. B. Selbie) . . 228
MORRIS-MILLER, E. Reichl s Philosophischer Almanach .. .. 151
Muscio, BERNARD. Mind in the Parmenides (D. S. Mackay) .. 152
RADFORD, L. B. (Bishop of Goulburn). Immortality Nine Essays 72
RIVETT, D. M. Theories of Memory (B. Edgell) .... 74
SALMOND, C. F. Experience and Nature (J. Dewey) . . 230
SCOTT FLETCHER, M. Spinoza (J. Alexander Gunn) 225
SMYTH, JOHN. Studies in Contemporary Education (A. Mackie and
P. Cole) .. 70
THATCHER, G. W. The Word of Lalla the Prophetess (Temple) . . 153
JOURNALS RECEIVED 75, 155, 231, 309
NOTES AND NEWS 56, 157, 234, 276, 310
NOTES BY THE WAY .. .. 11, 23, 39, 107, 119, 178, 195, 210
218, 247, 264, 286
Vol. III.
MARCH, 1925
No. 1
Cbe Australasian Journal
OF
Psychology - Philosophy
Edited by FRANCIS ANDERSON, M.A.,
Emeritus Professor of Philosophy in the University of Sydney
With the co-operation of
W. ANDERSON, M.A. (Auckland) H. T. LOVELL, M.A., PH.D. (Sydney)
F. W. DUNLOP, M.A., PH.D. (Otaxo) J. P. LOWSON, M.A., M.D. (Brisbane)
M. SCOTT FLETCHER, M.A., B. LITT. (Br.) A. H. MARTIN, M.A., PH.D. (Sydney)
A. C. Fox, M.A. (Perth) E. MORRIS MILLER, M.A., Lmr.D. (Hob.)
W. R. BOYCE GIBSON, M.A., D.Sc. (Melb.)W. MITCHELL, M.A., D.Sc. (Adelaide)
J. A. GUNN, M.A., B.Sc., PH.D. (Melb) B. Muscio, M.A. (Sydney)
T. A. HUNTER, M.A., M.Sc. (WellinRton) C. F. SALMOND, M.A. (Canterbury)
S. C. LAZARUS, M.A., D.PHIL. (Melb.) J. McK. STEWART, M.A., D.PHIL. (Adel)
nri__ o
CONTENTS
C^^U^lo R C
The following issue(s) is/are mining and
unobtainable . .
Date of collating
, M.A.
ght, B.A.
J. Alexander
,M.A.,Ph.D.
By Professor
ts applied to
\. H. Martin,
News.
PHILOSOPHY
N.S.W.
No. 1
Ibe Australasian Journal
OF
sycbology - Philosophy
Edited by FRANCIS ANDERSON, M.A.,
Emeritus Professor of Philosophy in the University of Sydney
With the co-operation of
ANDERSON, M.A. (Auckland) H. T. LOVELL, M.A., PH.D. (Sydney)
W. DUNLOP, M.A., PH.D. (Otago) J. P. LOWSON, M.A., M.D. (Brisbane)
SCOTT FLETCHER, M.A., B. LITT. (Br.) A. H. MARTIN, M.A., PH.D. (Sydney)
C. Fox, M.A. (Perth) E. MORRIS MILLER, M.A., Lmr.D. (Hob.)
R. BOYCE GIBSON, M.A., D.Sc. (AMfc.)W. MITCHELL, M.A., D.Sc. (Adelaide)
\. GUNN, M.A., B.Sc., PH.D. (Melb.) B. Muscio, M.A. (Sydney)
A. HUNTER, M.A., M.Sc. (Wellington) C. F. SALMOND, M.A. (Canterbury)
C. LAZARUS, M.A., D.PHIL. (Melb.} }. McK. STEWART, M.A., D.PHIL. (Adel)
CONTENTS
ie Social Functions of Symbols. By F. C. Bartlett, M.A.
ie Good as Good Will. By Arthur C. Fox, M.A.
odern Cambridge Philosophers. By A. Rex Knight, B.A.
natole France An Appreciation. By Professor J. Alexander
Gunn, M.A., B.Sc. Ph-D.
e Present Status of Psychology. By A. H. Martin, M.A., Ph.D.
ychological Studies. (1) Repression in Hamlet. By Professor
L. H. Allen, M.A., Ph.D.
^searches and Reports. Some Psychological Tests applied to
Engineering Workshops Apprentices. By A. H. Martin,
B. C. Doig and R. Simmat.
eviews and Notices of Books, Etc. Notes and News.
PUBLISHED BY THE
USTRALASIAN ASSOCIATION OF PSYCHOLOGY 8e PHILOSOPHY
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Vol. Ill MARCH, 1925 No. 1
THE SOCIAL FUNCTIONS OF SYMBOLS.
By F. C. Bartlett, M.A.
Director of the Psychological Laboratory, Cambridge, England;
Editor of the British Journal of Psychology.
CONTEMPOKARY psychological discussion contains a great
many references to symbols. It is perhaps natural that these should
be mainly concerned with the parts which the symbol may play in
the mental life of the individual, and further that, whether they
deal with the individual life, or with the influence of symbols upon
social activities, they should be largely preoccupied with problems of
interpretation. When we have learned what a symbol stands for,
however, even more important questions concerning what it actually
does, both within the personality and within the group, remain to
be considered. I propose to discuss certain of these in the present
paper. And since it is obvious that nearly all social products
fashions, folk tales, customs of all kinds, institutions and traditions
are apt to contain much symbolism, I shall deal with my problems
solely as they affect social psychology.
First some characterisation of the psychological nature of the
symbol is necessary. Symbols must be distinguished from mere
signs. Anything that stands for something else is a sign, but a
symbol must possess at one and the same time a double or a mul
tiple significance.* Further, the whole of this double or multiple
significance must be effective, when the symbol is used, even though
part of it is in no way being thrust upon the attention. Thus all
symbols possess both a "face" and a "hidden" value, and it is one of
the great achievements of psychology to have shown how the
"hidden" value is generally, from the point of view of function, the
more important. A flag, for example, is ia very common symbol.
Whenever we see a flag we see it in a particular perceptual setting,
and this contributes a part of its face significance or value, the rest
coming from other circumstances of the moment, and from a more
or less vaguely realised relationship between the coloured bunting
that we see and certain ideas concerning group ascendancy or
peculiar group functions. But if the flag really does operate as 1 a
symbol, behind this face value lie a mass of undifferentiated feelings
and impulses which do not rise into consciousness, which we could
not adequately put into words even if we wanted to, which repre-
*"cf. E. Jones: The Theory of Symbolism, Brit. Journ. of Psychol, Vol. 9,
pp. 181-229.
2 THE SOCIAL FUNCTIONS OF SYMBOLS
sent the influence of much earlier experience, and perhaps the oper
ation of tendencies not arising from individual experience at all,
and which, though they go unattended to, powerfully influence our
behaviour.
In the second place it is important to notice that the hidden
values of symbols constantly tend to become less and less capable
of exact definition. There is a natural history of symbols. Its
starting-point is when certain material of cognition appeals at one
and the same moment to more than one reaction tendency. When I
was a bay I knew a field, all humps and hollows with little level
stretches, where our best games could be played. Thither we often
went, my playfellows and I. But as often as we went there we were
trespassing, and well we knew it, and many a time did we make a
violent and fearful exit, pursued by angry shouts and a cracking
whip. So the field, its green grass, its hills and its hollows, appeal
ing at once to the play tendencies, the fear impulses, and the desire
for adventure, quickly became a symbol, and often intruded itself
into my dreiams. Generally it came as a fine and happy place, a
place for games, but immediately behind there was fear, and the
picture of a man s face that held me in terror. Then as time went
by the fear of the face began to be built together with the fear of
other threatening things. When, after the common allusive fashion
of boys, we shouted one to another "Hilly Park I" nobody could
quite tell what the hidden significance would be, but only that it
must have something to do with the sentiment of the forbidden
thing.
When the symbol first arises its whole significance, the hidden
as well as the face meaning, can be put into definite pictures, for it
is drawn immediately from particular events of personal experience.
But as time goes on, if the symbol still persists, its face value or its
hidden value (or both) always tends to get more abstract. The
exact nature of the psychological process according to which this-
takes place deserves much more study than it has been given. A
very great part of it is due, however, to the organisation of images
by the growth of sentiments and ideals. The symbol now does more
than evoke a particular concrete image and its significance : it stirs
up some sentiment, and the manifold significance of a sentiment,
though it is very apt to make use of images for its expression, yet
can never be wholly expressed in terms of any particular repre
sentation. There is no important, or persistent, social symbol which
has not struck the roots of its hidden significance deep into some
common sentiment or other.*
* Cf. my Symbolism in Folk Lore: Proceedings of the Vllth International
Congress of Psychology. Cambridge, 1924. p. 284.
THE SOCIAL FUNCTIONS OF SYMBOLS 3
Much more might be said about the psychological character of
symbols, but it is these two things : their double or multiple signi
ficance, and their close relation to the development of sentiments
that give to them some of their most important social functions.
We may, therefore, at once go on to consider these functions.
Much has been written about the transmission of culture, or
of cultural features, from one social group to another, through
contact. But generally the interest which has prompted this study
has been ethnological rather than sociological or psychological. Thus
much evidence has been accumulated with regard to the facts of
contact, and many fascinating speculations have been advanced with
respect to the migrations of groups. At the same time the actual
mechanisms by which transmissions are effected have, strangely
enough, received far less attention. Sometimes it even seems to be
assumed that all we need to establish is that certain groups did
actually come into contact. Their common cultural characteristics
are then immediately said to have passed over from one group to
the other. This, however, certainly does not follow, for not all
cultural possessions can be equally easily transmitted. And when
we consider the mechanisms by which social possessions are passed
on from group to group, we can readily see that perhaps the most
important method of all is by the establishment of symbols.
This is in fact one of the main social consequences of the dual
or multiple significance of symbols. Suppose though the facts of
of any actual case are far more complex than can well be set forth
we have two groups which enter into relationship, one of which may
be called the culture-bringing group, and the other the culture-
receiving group. The results of their interplay are fundamentally
determined by the social relationship which ensues. There tare three
very important cases. First the culture-bringing group may be
manifestly superior to the other one, either by virtue of its material
possessions or in consequence of its higher social development. Or
again the culture-receiving group may, despite its acceptance of new
customs and conventions, still maintain a position of considerable
superiority. Or again the two groups may be wholly friendly and
may give and take without superiority or inferiority. In any one
of these cases certain material of the culture-bringing group is
almost sure to be selected by the culture-receiving group and
adopted by the latter, not simply for its own value, or because of its
obvious significance, but as standing for all the desirable elements
possessed by the culture-bringing group. Or it may be that the
material is selected not because it vaguely indicates what is desir-
4 THE SOCIAL FUNCTIONS OF SYMBOLS
able in the culture-bringing group, but because, in a way which is
never clearly expressed, it preserves what is desirable in the culture-
receiving group.
Let us consider the first case. This is generally how elements
of culture pass from the higher social groups, or from the governing
groups of a community, to lower, or governed groups. We ourselves
can see the whole process going on continually. A group of working
men strike for higher wages. They insist, often with an honesty
which it is impossible to doubt, that it is not really money they
want. It is that, but it is more. And yet the more that is desired
never is and cannot be very clearly defined, for it is not clearly real
ised, not yet articulated in the mental life of those by whom it is
wanted. The few who can find words for the desire say that it is for
leisure, holidays, music, books, education. But they have no definite
notions, no clear pictures, of what sort of leisure, holidays, music,
books, and education are wianted. Money is selected as 1 a symbol for
the whole culture which is desired. It, rather than anything else,
is selected to be a symbol because money has a very obvious face
significance, derived from the existing customs of the culture-receiv
ing group. And the symbol owes its force to the fact that it can
carry with it a mass of ill-defined ideas, feelings iand wishes related
to the whole culture of the superior group, and grounded in the
sentiment of social emulation.
Just in the same way we see bicycles, motor-cars, pianos,
fashions in dress, accents and many other cultural possessions, both
material and psychical, pass swiftly from the centre to the peri
phery of a country, or even of an empire, or from a "higher" to a
"lower" social level. They are selected because of an obvious face
value, but their power of appeal lies in the fact that they have be
come symbols. It is what they somewhat obscurely stand for that
gives them their strength. I have heard a Welshman most violently
condemn a fellow-countryman who had acquired an important pub
lic position in England, simply because he had dropped his Welsh
accent.
What holds true of the movements of culture in our own com
plex society in this respect holds true also of the past. We may
lay it down as indisputable that hardly any important transmission
of culture from group to group has ever taken place, save through
the development of social symbols.
The first of the functions of the social symbol, then, is to
facilitate the transmission of culture from group to group.
There is a special case of transmission which has a peculiar
importance since it shows clearly another of the social functions of
the symbol. Not infrequently the culture-receiving group, though
THE SOCIAL FUNCTIONS OF SYMBOLS 5
it assimilates from without some new possession, nevertheless con
trives in doing so to maintain its own superiority. The hidden value
of the social symbol may, in fact, relate either to the half appreci
ated meaning which the symbol has within the culture-bringing
group, or to the past history of the group which is receptive. The
latter seems very often to be the case with the religious symbol.
Years after the Spaniards had conquered New Granada, for
instance, when the native Indians were all accounted Christian, and
had taken over the religious paraphernalia of their conquerors,
secret Indian shrines were sometimes found. In one of these was
discovered, offered to the "overthrown" idols, the cap of >a Fran
ciscan friar, a rosary, a priest s biretta, and a Spanish book of re
ligious precepts.* The new material had been assimilated, but its
predominant, though hidden significance preserved the past. When
any well-established corporation, being subjected to outside influ
ence, is made to revise its constitution, exactly the same thing can
be noticed. The new forms 1 are accepted. But they are constantly
given some slight twist, either of actual phrasing, or of interpre
tation, which unobtrusively preserves their continuity with the olu.
Just the same use of symbolism can often be detected in the work
of cartoonists who have ia strong political bias. The present leader
of a party is, in their drawings, given some small turn of counten
ance or of dress which links him up with a famous leader of the past.
Or for that matter the rallying cries of a political party themselves
gives us good illustrations. They are meant to meet an ever chang
ing situation, but the bent of their phrasing and the colour of their
significance come invariably from past party triumphs. All secret
societies which have ever been formed for the purpose of holding
tenaciously to an outworn or violently suppressed custom or culture
have speedily developed & flourishing and elaborate symbolism.
This is the second great function of the social symbol : to facili
tate the preservation of groups. In all social regressions symbols are
apt to play a very great part.
Not only does the symbol act powerfully in preserving a group
or a group s traditions when perhaps a first glance at society would
suggest that they have disappeared, but it also does much at all
times to preserve social harmony within an obviously living and
active group. This is directly due to the pictorial origin of the
symbol. An interpretation embodied in a symbol is a very much
easier thing to grasp than an interpretation or a meaning which is
not sustained by a symbol; just as imaging is a more primitive
* R. B. Cunningham Grahame : The Conquest of New Granada : 1922. Foot
note p. 97.
6 THE SOCIAL FUNCTIONS OF SYMBOLS
psychological reaction than judging or conceiving. Uniforms, for
example, badges of various kinds, flags and pennants keep esprit de
corps and patriotism alive far more effectually than the mere con
cepts of loyalty and good faith to one s comrades and country can
ever do, at least within any stage of social development that has as
yet been iattained.
We touch here upon an extraordinarily important psychological
principle the operation of which may be seen in conduct of all kinds.
Appropriate and significant reactions are made long before the dis
tinctions on which they are based appear in consciousness. A
young child reacts consistently to differences between colours some
time before such differences are a part of what he can be said to
know. The influence of the symbol in promoting public order and
harmony is a striking illustration of this. The symbol in fact pro
duces the result which reflective analysis might produce, but without
any help from reflective analysis. This is a part of the reason why
every new public movement which necessarily, if it is to be main
tained, demands the formation of a group is almost sure to develop
symbols of a very concrete kind. Generally some peculiarity of a
leader is adopted ias symbolic in the first place. Thus the early
Quaker, whom Barclay s rationalistic statements would have left
cold, or to whom they would have been unintelligible, was fiercely
thrilled by the practice of keeping his hat on in the presence of great
men. What Barclay later put into propositions iand principles was
after all very much the same as what his less deliberative forerunner
unthinkingly responded to when he kept his hat on. So with
Demosthenes lisp and Alexander s limp; so with Gladstone s collar
and Chamberlain s eye-glass: they all strongly maintain the har
mony of groups because they appear to make concrete the unfor-
mulated principles which hold the group together.*
Even when the social symbol does not replace interpretation
but prompts it, the fact that the symbol appears to be the same for
all blurs over differences of interpretation, and so again promotes
social harmony. This is one of the reasons why the symbol is
peculiarly tenacious of life in the religious group. A variety and
independence of interpretation which would be socially disruptive
were it not for the presence of symbols can by these be rendered com
paratively harmless, the obvious unity of the group in regard to its
* An excellent illustration of this occurs in E. M. Forster s recent book,
A Passage to India (London, 1924) p. 24. A number of Anglo-Indians are
assembled in a club when an amateur orchestra begins to play -the National
Anthem. "Conversation and billiards stopped, faces stiffened. It was the
Anthem of the Army of Occupation. It reminded every member of the club that
he or she was British and in exile. It produced a little sentiment and a useful
accession of will-power. The meagre tune, the curt series of demands on
Jehovah, fused into a prayer unknown in England, and though they perceived
neither Royalty nor Deity they did perceive something, they were strengthened
to resist another day. Then they poured out, offering one another drinks."
THE SOCIAL FUNCTIONS OF SYMBOLS 7
symbols being stronger than the less obvious, though not less real
diversity of view of the persons by whom the group is constituted.
The third great social function of the symbol is, then, to pro
mote the harmony of the group.
But in this respect the symbol is like a great many other con
ditions of human conduct: it appears to produce opposite effects
upon different occasions, and very frequently leads to sharply con
trasted behaviour on the part of different groups. Symbols main
tain harmony within the group; it is equally true and important
that they constantly promote discord between groups. For just as
the symbol may blur over differences of interpretation, so a differ
ence of symbols may obscure likenesses of ultimate meaning and
aim. In each of these cases it is the symbol itself that takes the
lead, and, in a manner, operates directly in determining social
conduct. Consequently all the bitterest social struggles tend to centre
about symbols, and the more the groups concerned are dealing with
the same kind of problem the more furiously will they fight about
differences of symbols. Just because the group is consolidated by
the help of the symbol, so, if the symbol is attacked, does the group
defend itself with great vigour. Precisely because the symbol
does help powerfully to organise and harmonise a group, so is it very
apt to attract the hatred and jealousy of other groups.
Examples abound in almost all of the important public con
troversies of all times. Thus it is impossible to open any volume of
sermons delivered in England about the beginning of the seven
teenth century without finding illustrations of the power of the
symbol to foment and centralise social discords. And as everybody
knows this effect of the symbol was shown not in words only, but
in many extremely violent deeds. In 1643, for instance, "the Earl
of Manchester, who was then in command of the Parliamentary
party at Cambridge, commissioned one William Dowsing to carry
out the ordinance of Parliament directing the abolition of altars,
communion tables, rails, and the defacing of all images, crucifixions
and superstitious inscriptions."* Dowsing kept a journal in which
he recorded his doings with great precision and obvious relish. "At
St. Peter s Parish, December 30, 1643," he writes, "We brake down
10 Popish Pictures, we tooke of 3 Popish Inscriptions of Prayers to
be made for 3 Soules, & burnt the rayles, digged up the steps &
they are to be levelled by Wednesday." And again : "At Little St.
Mary s, December 29, 30, 1643. We brake down 60 superstitious
Pictures, some Popes and Crucifixions, & God the Father sitting in
a charger and holding a Glasse in his hand."f
* Atkinson and Clarke : Cambridge described ttnd illustrated, London, 1897 :
p. 123.
t Quoted by A tkinson and Clarke, I.e.
8 THE SOCIAL FUNCTIONS OF SYMBOLS
This rage against symbols on the part of the reforming party at
that time was however paralleled by an equal fury of the ritualising
group against the Protestant rejection of Eomish symbols.
Emmanuel College, Cambridge, for example, had a chapel the chan
cel of which stood towards the north, while the kitchen stretched
eastwards. This chapel had never been consecrated, and surplices
and the keeping of fast days were constantly ignored. Only seven
years before Dowsing began his destructive work, a vigorous letter
of protest was written to Archbishop Laud concerning Emmanuel
College practices : "But in Emmanuel College they receive that Holy
Sacrament sitting upon Forms about the Communion Table, and
doe pull the Loafe one from the other, after the Minister hath
begon. And so y e Cuppe, one drinking it as it were to another, like
good Fellows, without any particular application of y e s d words,
more than once for all."*
It is because of the power of the symbol to excite social antag
onisms that popular leaders of the revolutionary kind frequently
avail themselves of the traditional symbolism of the group which
they aspire to lead. Many interesting illustrations of this have
occurred in the course of the anti-British propaganda in India. Bal
Gangadhar Tilak, well-known ias a vigorous and accomplished oppon
ent of foreign rule, found it desirable, for instance, to call to his
aid the powerful influence of religious symbols. He placed his
movement "under the special patronage of the most popular deity in
India."
"Though Ganesh, the elephant-headed god, is the god of learn
ing whom Hindu writers 1 delight to invoke on the title-page of their
books, there is scarcely a village or a frequented roadside in India
that does not show some rude presentment of his familiar features,
usually smeared over with red ochre. Tilak could not have devised
a more popular move then when he set himself to organise annual
festivals in honour of Ganesh, known .as Ganpati celebrations, and
to found in all the chief centres of the Deccan Ganpati societies
each with its mala or choir recruited among his youthful bands of
gymnasts. These festivals gave occasion for theatrical perform
ances and religious songs in which the legends of Hindu mythology
were skilfully exploited to stir up the hatred of the foreigner . . ."f
Thus both directly as when an alien symbol is itself furiously
attacked and indirectly, as when a native symbol is especially
exalted the symbol excites and centralises social discord.
* Atkinson and Clarke : op. cit. p. 460.
t Valentine Chirol : Indian Unrest, London, 1910, p. 44. A reference to the
plays performed, one of which is summarised on pp. 337-9 of Mr. Chirol s book,
will show clearly the important place accorded by them to symbols.
THE SOCIAL FUNCTIONS OF SYMBOLS 9
When we consider how the symbol both arouses devotion and
excites antagonism, we can s"ee clearly its function in keeping alive
the emotional basis of social organisation. As I have said, every
long-standing and powerful social symbol is grounded in sentiment.
And sentiments, according to the now commonly accepted psycho
logical usage, are born through the coming together into a single
organisation of a variety of emotions.
Now nearly every writer upon social psychology has pointed out
the power of the group to heighten emotions. But, save in rather
exceptional circumstances, when the group tends to become a crowd,
a mob or a herd, social emotions are never unchecked. All the
strongest sentiments love, hate, patriotism, loyalty and so on
and most of the greatest ideals grow up around personal relation
ships, and normally when social emotions are experienced these sen
timents and ideals are at the same time stirred into activity. Hence
socially expressed emotions, except under unusual circumstances,
are apt to have their own peculiar flavour, and to be checked and
regulated by the systems into which they enter. But the moment
an emotion enters into an organisation with other emotions it ac
quires a new and characteristic emotional quality. The emotions
which in organisation form a sentiment are more than merely
organised emotions: they possess an affective character within the
sentiment which they do not possess outside of it. This difference
of affective character probably cannot adequately be expressed in
language. It is something more than a diminution of violence and
an increase of refinement. But it certainly does frequently involve
both of these.
We very often tend to say that no emotions are so violent and
so lacking in delicacy as those which characterise social behaviour.
This is simply untrue. If we take the rage of the mob, the panic
of the demoralised fighting group, the lust of the victors after a
struggle we seem to have striking cases in point, and no doubt there
are many others. But these are not situations characteristic of a
highly developed society, and ought not to be taken as the types.
In fact the gradual organisation of emotions into sentiments, and
of emotions, sentiments and ideas into ideals tends to remove the
explosiveness of the primitive affective response out of the daily
run of life. The sentiment, the ideal have modes of conduct ready
for any of a number of situations, whereas the emotion is far more
specialised in its operation. Thus as social organisation becomes
wider, and its influence permeates every side of life, the determin
ation of human conduct becomes more and more abstract.
Such a development has its own dangers, and may leave a group
helpless in the face of some sudden and special demand. But the
10 THE SOCIAL FUNCTIONS OF SYMBOLS
social symbol acts powerfully in preventing the tendency to be deter
mined by abstract ideals from proceeding to dangerous lengths, and
does much to preserve the capacity of a group to act swiftly, de
cisively and unanimously. For the symbol keeps the sentiments
and ideals which are the basis of group organisation in touch with
the concrete. It provides a specific picture for a general meaning.
Thus it has a two-fold manner of operation. By virtue of the
symbol a group can upon occasion relapse into a primitive explosive,
single emotion determined type of conduct and still not cease to be
a group. And by virtue of the symbol the sentiments and ideals
which motivate a group s ordinary behaviour, relatively abstract
though they may be, yet retain a concrete character and remain in
touch with actual life.
"The Spaniards," says Miss Hope Mirrlees, "deal in a very
cavalier way with symbolism : . . . they put together from the
markets and streets and balconies of Andalusia a very human type
of female loveliness; next they express this type with uncompro
mising realism in painted wooden figures which they set up in
churches saying, This is not Pepe, or Ana, or Carmen. Oh no ! It
isn t a woman at all : it s a mysterious abstract doctrine of the
Church called the Immaculate Conception. Then they all pro
ceed to fall physically in love with the abstract doctrine serenading
it with lyrics, organising pageants in its honour, running their
swords through those who deny its truth, storming the Vatican for
its acceptance."*
This is not, however, only a Spanish way of dealing with
symbols. With differences for social setting and history the same
kind of thing could be written of any symbol using group anywhere.
Here, then, are four important social functions which are pos
sessed by symbols. They all spring directly from those two out
standing psychological characteristics of the symbol that were con
sidered at the beginning of this paper: from the basis of symbolism
in some concrete event or situation of which it is a picture, and
from the duality or multiplicity of signification which gives to sym
bols their enduring influence, and renders them at once apparently
definite and clear, and yet abstract to a considerable degree. For
the symbol is tied on the one hand to the concrete and particular
image, and on the other to the more general sentiment and ideal.
There are no doubt many other ways in which symbols influence
the nature and development of social organisation and the growth of
* The Counterplot. 1924 : pp. 5-6.
THE SOCIAL FUNCTIONS OF SYMBOLS 11
culture. These four, however, all alike affect the social character of
the group considered as a whole. We have seen how the symbol :
(a) acts as a medium for the transmission of culture;
(b) secures the preservation of the group;
(c) promotes social harmony, and social discord;
(d) prevents those social sentiments and ideals which are
at the basis of organised group life from becoming
vague and lifeless abstractions.
It is no wonder that there is hardly any social structure, hardly any
department of social activity which does not contain abundant
traces of the symbolic element.
NOTES BY THE WAY.
No. 1.
Fact and Value.
Although in a sense the whole world lies open both to science and
to metaphysics, their functions are n one the less distinct in kind, and
that of metaphysics is still the more inclusive. For whereas science
is restricted to the attitude of pure cognition, metaphysics must include
cognition in appreciation. Existence ("thing-hood," factual nature,")
is only one fundamental aspect or ultimate feature of reality. There
is also value as such, equally fundamental and ultimate, and not to he
expressed in terms of mere existence at all. Now it would be ludi
crous to contend that science cannot take cognisance of value at all.
No thing and no fact in the world, even the inmost facts of personal
experience can any longer be "contracted out" of scientific enquiries.
What is true is that science cannot take cognisance of ultimate values
as such. Let us take the three positive values generally claimed as
ultimate or absolute, moral goodness, beauty, rationality. Science
can and must treat of the origin and history of our ideas of these
values; it must write histories of ethics, aesthetics, and logic. It
must also point out that certain ways of regarding arid handling these
ideas lead to certain results, and in that case it may assign a certain
instrumental value to various doctrines in morals, art, and philosophy.
But it is always dealing with the ultimate values not as such or as they
are in themselves, but only so far as they are actually existing ideas
in! existing minds. It is of the existence of values that science treats,
not of the ultimate value of existences. And goodness, beauty, and
rationality as such are what determine the ultimate value of exist
ences; they are not themselves existences, though they may be ultimate
realities; nor are they merely de facto laws of existence like Dr.
Alexander s universals. They are ideals, not ideas. They can only be
properly known by an attitude of appreciation or valuation, which ac
cepts the positive and rejects the negative value. Therefore science in
its strict impartiality carinot deal with them. The man of science is the
only Adam who can claim to remain in Eden, because for him alone the
tree of the knowledge of good arid evil still bears untasted fruit.
Canon O. C. Quick, in the Hibbert Journal.
12
THE GOOD AS GOOD WILL
By Arthur C. Fox, M.A. (Syd.), Lecturer in Philosophy,
University of Western Australia.
THE title of this article immediately suggests the ethical
doctrine of Kant. It is, however, no part of our purpose to enter
upon a general defence or exposition of that doctrine. Our concern
will be with that element in it which asserts that "there is nothing
in the world, or even out of it, that can he called good without quali
fication, except a good will," and that this good will, like a jewel,
shines by its own light, "as a thing which has its whole value in
itself." It would seem quite possible to hold to the final sufficiency
of this claim without endorsing all the other views with which Kant
entwined it, and without adopting the particular psychology from
whose standpoint he conceived the nature of will. In especial, we
must disagree with the opposition which he set up between volition
and desire, reason and inclination. No plea is put forward for the
value of a will that wills nothing. What is claimed is, that a mean
ing can be put into the Kantian definition a meaning in conson
ance with much present psychological opinion whereby it should
commend itself to us as the most satisfactory formulation of the
ethical ideal. This meaning can be variously expressed : the only
moral good is good character, or the virtuous disposition, or the
total dedication of the self to particular right purposes, or the gen
eral set of the life towards goodness. The alleged intrinsic defects
of this definition will be considered later ; but first of all we must
undertake a discussion of some terms and their meanings.
Moral good is often referred to as the chief or highest good, the
summum bonum, but sometimes these latter terms and others kin
dred with them (such as "the complete good") are used as though
to indicate good which is wider than moral good. This suggests that
there is, on the one hand, good, and on the other hand, moral good,
as things distinguishable. One ethical writer* defines the highest
good as "a perfectly ordered Universe apprehended and chosen as
such," where the emphasis is upon the first four words, and not
upon the last five, for he distinguishes between complete and moral
goodness : the former stands over .against the latter as that which the
morally good person chooses, and in the choice of which his moral
goodness consists. The danger in such ways of thinking is that,
for one thing, they confuse metaphysical and ethical problems, or
else they confuse the meaning of the term good. Whether there is
a perfectly ordered universe, and whether such a universe should
be considered good, are questions for the metaphysician to settle,
* Mackenzie, Manual of Ethics, Book II., Chap VI., 4. (5th Ed.).
THE GOOD AS GOOD WILL 13
especially if he is wise enough to base his speculation upon ethical
as well as other data, eschewing the position that ethical depends
upon metaphysical doctrine. And in the case quoted there is a loose
usage of the word "good." As attributed to the Universe, it means
perfection of order or (perhaps) reality, or again, completeness,
whereas in (another connection it means perfection of moral quality.
These two meanings are not obviously identical; and it is begging
an important ethical question to equate "perfect universal order,"
or "the real," to "the good," since we are justified in holding to
the normal ethical sense of the latter expression. This brings us to
another danger in such ta way of thinking, and one more to our pre
sent point. It is the danger of externalising the summum bonum.
There is not absent a suggestion that the good is "there" and we are
"here," and that it is to become a quality of us by our deliberately
crossing over to it : or in other words that goodness is the inherent
characteristic of it but not of us. One suspects that many discus
sions concerning the summum bonum are marked by this incipient
externalising. It is so very natural, and like the tendency to reify
in general, it shows the persistent presence of the plain man even in
the philosopher. Perhaps it arises from his constant mental mani
pulation of the ideas of happiness, self-realization, etc., and from
the spirit of detachment in which this is attempted. But what
ever its source, the danger is both real and serious. It results in
excessive stressing of the objectivity of the good, even when it is
admitted that this is not its only characteristic. In particular, it
seems to underlie a common objection to the notion of the good as
good will the objection, namely, that the notion is too subjective to
be satisfactory. The criticism is to the effect that it confines good to
the minds of persons, and restricts to each one s volition the effects
of his good willing; whereas good is also objective, including such
effects of willing as 1 beauty, truth, order, and freedom. Viewed in
this broad way, good is a public thing, going beyond the reinforce
ment of the agent s will or even the general enrichment of his life.
In a word, good is objective as well as subjective, and its objective is
superior to its subjective character; whereas to define it as good will
is to make it exclusively or at least primarily subjective.
It is essential for clear thinking on this matter that we adhere
resolutely to terms, and their meanings that are proper to Ethics.
Especially must we avoid ambiguity in the conception of good. It
does not seem too much to claim that in Ethical discussions this
term should be taken in the sense of "goodness," and that if any
other meaning is adopted, this should be made (and kept) clear
from its primary and obvious signification. Sidgwick,* for
* Methods of Ethics, 4th Ed. Book III., Chap. XIV., 2.
14 THE GOOD AS GOOD WILL
example, tasserts that the summum bonum is "composed of a moral
and a non-moral element," which are subjective Tightness of will,
and non-moral good, respectively. "In my view," he says, "this
subjective Tightness of volition is not good in itself, but only as a
means ... to the production of other good effects" i.e., non-
moral good. It is pertinent to enquire : Of what value to Ethics is
the notion of non-moral good? It is, on the face of it, and in
Ethics, a self -contradictory expression, iand this may become clearer
if we use the equivalent expression i.e., equivalent for Ethics
non-moral goodness. But there is a further enquiry : What is the
Ethical validity of the procedure which judges moral good to be
such by a non-moral (and therefore non-good) standard? I believe
that no satisfactory answer can be given to these two questions, and
for the reason already suggested, viz., that it is 1 ethically futile to
speak of non-moral good. Ethics, whose business it is to determine
the summum bonum for persons, is concerned only with moral good,
and this, as Sidgwick admits, is subjective Tightness of volition. If
there are other non-moral things of value, Ethics names them "good"
only as they are means to moral good or goodness, and not con
versely. Truth and freedom, for example, may have their own
primary values, but they are good only in so far as they strengthen
iTi persons the disposition towards goodness. With freedom this is
especially obvious, but in principle it is clear in all cases, and so far
the good is subjective.* The good for me, for anyone, is my, his,
goodness at least, .and this is true whatever interpretation may be
given to the good. In other words, the good or goodness is pri
marily subjective on any view, and there is no special reason why
the accusation of subjectivity should be brought against the par
ticular view under consideration. Why then is it specially brought
in this case? Doubtless because of the unethical duality of mean
ing that is forced upon the term "good" and the resultant implicit
refusal to admit that its proper meaning is goodness of persons;
and furthermore because of the mistaken anxiety to conserve its
objectivity by ejecting it from essential relation to the willing of
persons. Once recognize that there is only one (primary) ethical
way of understanding the good, and the charge of subjectivity
against our formula loses its point, not, however, because the good
is not subjective, but because as moral it cannot primarily be
otherwise.
This preliminary discussion of terms has been necessary in
* "Subjective," here, is not used in its ordinary sense, but to indicate that
goodness is of persons intrinsically, rather than that it comes to be of them,
as if originating from an external source. There is also, of course, a criticism
of "the good as good will" on account of its supposed subjectivity in the ordinary
sense.
THE GOOD AS GOOD WILL 15
order to remove a difficulty that would invalidate our whole task.
The good cannot possibly be the good will if it has the wide exten
sion sometimes given to it, that is, if it includes non-moral as well
as moral good as co-ordinate species. We may be asked whether
there are not unmoral goods, and our reply would be: viewed
abstractly there are such goods, in abstraction, that is to say,
from persons, whose essence (from the point of view of
Ethics) is their volition. They are not "good" in their own
right, but only as instruments of moral volition. As to a perfectly
ordered Universe, it may be necessary to say that it is good (if at
all) only as the expression of a Good Will that is adequate to it.
However this may be, our view positively stated is this: the good
as good will is an ethically legitimate formula, since the good is per
sonal good or goodness ; its direct reference is to personal character.
Let each one ask himself : What is the summum bonum for me ? and
he will not be able to avoid the answer that it is a personal con
dition, a permeation of his self by goodness, his settled ways of
choosing and striving. He will be convinced that it is to be within
and not without him, and will repudiate the suggestion that it
already exists apart from his own volition, or that his volition makes
actual in his case by a kind of transference of quality what is
already actual in its own right. For him there can be no good
except as in fact or in prospect he voluntarily chooses it. Of course,
the choice will not be capricious, but will be grounded in the nature
of the man, as volition always is.
There have been many other ways of conceiving the summum
bonum, but from one point of view they are seen to be two: the
essence of goodness is on the one hand pursuit of an end, on the
other hand it is attainment of the end. The attainment idea is pro
minent in hedonism, especially in its extreme Cyrenaic form, accord
ing to which he is sufficiently good who is enjoying what the moment
offers. In all hedonism, however, the morally desirable is described
in terms of realized enjoyment. The same idea is stressed in a
different way by thorough-going intuitionism, e.g., by the Moral
Sense moralists. The ethical end is gained whenever reason or the
moral faculty formulates its direct estimate. Pursuit is empha
sised by those theories of the moral life that place its essence in de
velopment, so that man never is but always to be blest. We find
this feature in thinkers otherwise very different. An Evolutionary
ethicist such as Spencer, pronounces 1 morality to consist in continu
ous adjustment (of internal relations to external relations), and
Stephen describes it as constant endeavour (to maintain social
health.) In these cases it is not so much the end as its promotion
that is important, and if the end is conceived as realized, as by
16 THE GOOD AS GOOD WILL
Spencer, it turns out to be an unmoral condition. A thinker of a
different school is Green, who nevertheless declares that the best life
is the progressive realization of one s capacities as a spiritual (and
social) being, but admits that this best life is so far from being
attained that we cannot give any definite description of it ; we may
suspect ,however, that were it attained, it would be identity with
the eternal extra temporal consciousness which or whom
it is difficult to construe in ethical terms.
It may be objected that it is rare for any thinker to stress one
of these conceptions, pursuit or attainment, to the exclusion of the
other. This is so, and it is a fact that testifies to the necessity of
including both in any ideal satisfactory to moral experience. At
the same time it is usually the case that one is deliberately selected
to the overshadowing of the other, to which little more than lip
homage is paid. The intuitionists would rarely deny that moral
living is urgent, but he thinks and speaks most of spontaneous
valuation. The evolutionist emphasises the process of moral growth,
of growing habituation to consider remote rather than proximate
ends, until this becomes fixed and absolute, but he admits the re
lative moral value of stages in the process. And the validity of the
current moral code as well as of the virtues of the Greeks is not de
nied by the advocate of ultimate self- realisation. In each case the
attention of the reader is mainly kept to that aspect which the writer
believes to represent essentially the moral ideal. It is quite a fair
statement that there have been two ways of thinking of the summum
bonum, viz., as pursuit or as attainment.
But to exhaust the highest good in either of these is to render it
unsatisfactory to the reflective moral consciousness. In other words,
personal goodness is more than the mere pursuit of an end or the
simple enjoyment of achievement. It needs both, and if we ab
stractly emphasise one, this can be criticised from the point of
view of the other. Let us see how the matter works out; and we
shall begin with the notion of pursuit. Towards the end of Dennis
poem, the Sentimental Bloke gives as his new aim in life to see
himself made better in his son. This seems an entirely admirable
purpose, and is cherished by many fathers in the prose of ordinary
life. But the Bloke would probably agree, were the suggestion made
to him, that he would like his desire for his son reproduced in that
person in regard to his son, and so on indefinitely indeed that he
should so train his son as to promote that desire, and that the son
should do likewise when his turn came. The natural query is : when
is finality to be reached? We seem to have u series of means but no
end, whereas morality clearly needs end as well as means. What
THE GOOD AS GOOD WILL 17
is to be the result of all the toil and care on the part of the successive
fathers? Simply that there is to be no result save an unending
preparation for an ever-receding consummation. But we are re
minded that the Sentimental Bloke and others in similar case do
find ethical satisfaction in their purpose, and believe it to be a
worthy end. The reason must lie in their failure to fully analyze
the matter, since common sense in moral concerns is no more
thorough-going than elsewhere ; it lies also in the belief that their
purpose is gained in producing a worthy son, or that pursuit is
complemented by attainment. When this belief is well founded it is
a reasonable source of satisfaction, but it is hardly justifiable
in any final manner in the type of case under consideration, unless
the father s satisfaction is with his own attainment in the way of
complete endeavour, rather than with his son s perfection as a
product. But when satisfaction has this latter kind of basis, it
shows that mere pursuit of an end is an insufficient good.
The whole literature of the Christian religion bears witness to
man s revolt against this one-sided view of the moral life. That
religion has much to say of the daily taking up of the cross and
perpetual self-denial; its favourite analogies for moral experience
are such as continuous warfare and the long footrace. The Chris
tian is a pilgrim whose constant business is to progress. He has
before him a personal Ideal or ideal Person whose perfection con
tinually evokes the admission: "Not that I have already attained
. . . but I press on" in "the upward calling of God in Christ
Jesus." Hopefulness is prominent in his attitude and yet he
confidently expects the ultimate relinquishing of hope because of
its fulfilment, when love (i.e., actual possession) of his Object shall
be his sole concern. If there is a race, there is a goal and prize, and
if there is a warfare and a cross, there is also a crown and a final
victory. The Pilgrim s progress is long and hazardous, but he
enters at length the Celestial City to have comfort for all his toil
and to enjoy "the perpetual sight and vision of the Holy One," for
there remaineth a rest for the people of God. The revolt against the
prospect of an unending upward calling is expressed in the popular
idea of "heaven" as connoting the absence of work and conflict. And
this revolt is understandable, if the future is at first understood to
involve ceaseless toil and strife and little more. Human nature can
not sustain unrelieved strain; in the midst of its warfare it looks
for occasional signs of coming victory. We are charmed by the
poetic description of virtue as aiming not at nor loving glory, in
the sense (I suppose) of public acclaim, but we hesitate to believe
18 THE GOOD AS GOOD WILL
that her only glory is "going on and still to be," or that our human
destiny is
Effort and expectation and desire,
And something evermore about to be
The literal prose of this is, that we never achieve our destiny if it
is evermore in the future, and a glory or value reflected on the pre
sent from a future always future is in truth no value at all. Cona
tion may be the most fundamental feature of mind, whose most gen
eral attitude (attending) may be always prospective, but a life s be
haviour is not one long drawn-out conation, and attending has its 1
frequent results for cognition and feeling : an attention-process that
does not build up apperception is useless. To be sure, there is hardly
more acceptability in the popular religious notion of all the reward,
value, or achievement being lumped together and reserved entire for
a future and determinate date. Life and its striving must at least
have a present value: it must be worth going through with on
account of what it yields here and now. The truer Christian doc
trine is in accord with this view : victory is not wholly reserved for
the future but may and should be achieved now in part, and the
ideal is not merely a Person still to be met but one who is meetable
at any moment. But this truer doctrine has abandoned the idea of
pursuit simply.
The Eastern mind has also abandoned the idea. The Brahmin,
looking out upon life, is struck by its universally conative aspect,
its restless and unceasing outpouring of energy : and as he sees the
matter, nothing is ever gained by it all. Conation reaches its 1 end
only to halt for an instant and then start forward again towards
another end, and so on eternally. To live is to suffer want and to be
ever striving, but without success, to satisfy want, for which the root
reason is that want and striving are bound up with the body and the
world, and these are radically impermanent. We have longings to
do and feel, and longings to know. Whatever we do is incomplete
nor can we trust those who come after us to fulfil our intentions ;
if our doing is completed it has the fatal defect of impermanence.
If we seek satisfaction in feeling, we find that this has to be con
tinually and increasingly stimulated, until a point comes when
further stimulation is impossible, and we lapse into disgust. We
also long to know, but if we make the world our object the one thing
that we certainly discover is its inherent transience. What then
remains as a source of imperishable satisfaction? Simply this: to
retreat from the world and the bodily life upon the central self,
to quench activity in passivity (though employing the activity of
asceticism) and to calmly contemplate the one thing that is per
manent, viz., the pure ego that has severed itself entirely from the
THE GOOD AS GOOD WILL 19
not-self. The Brahmin in his highest state is freed from all activity,
even that of religious service, and in inferior states is continually
reducing his interest and activity in the world. His ultimate aim
is neither to do, to corporeally feel, nor even to know, but simply to
be, to achieve identity with the pure world-soul. He has therefore
rejected endeavour as valueless, and finds worth ionly in a static con
dition of attainment. In this Oriental position we have the extremity
of onesidedness, with corresponding defects, but with the one clear
merit of demonstrating most strikingly that in mere going on and
on man finds nothing that he can approve as good.
But what of the contrasted idea of simple attainment as the
desirable objective? As given in Brahminism its most obvious
weakness is that it deprives us of morality altogether, for where
effort is absent moral quality cannot appear. Buddhism carried
the matter to its logical conclusion by virtually pointing out that if
there is no not-self there can be no self. It accepted this con
clusion, and preached the wisdom of acquiescing in the actual
state of affairs, i.e., of lapsing into literal selflessness and therefore
nothingness. We cannot doubt that the Buddhist shows the real
issue of the position in question. On the one hand we are asked
to acquiesce in a perpetual going-on, but here we are offered the
refuge of a full-stop, which would indeed be a termination of our
being as we now know it. The good as simple attainment has an
hedonistic flavour ; it is generally taken to be enjoyment in some sort
rest after labour, security after trepidation, unalloyed pleasure
after an experience largely painful. We have noted this as an
aspect of the popular religious view, and have seen how it gains a
certain acceptableness. But enjoyment simply as such, having no
reference beyond its present state, is not acceptable to normal man
hood. Enjoyment is acceptable to put it crudely as an interval
and rallying point between activities, i.e., as referring beyond itself
both backwards and forwards. Pleasure is not itself a good, but a
sign of good at most. Even popular religion is nowadays inclined
to be mirthful about static heavenly bliss, and thinks rather of such
sayings as "his servants shall serve him." In sooth, the prospect of
unalloyed, self-centred pleasure is nauseating. Pleasure, in abstrac
tion from every other quality of experience, must be rejected as the
moral good by every serious-minded person. That is, to be per
fectly good is more than to be pleased since we take good to be
the goodness of the person. And if we express ourselves again ik
terms of attainment, the result is similar. The stigma of folly rests
upon the soul that invites itself to ease in contemplation of its
attained security. Is the consummation of our moral life to be the
complete grasping of some end-state, the while we congratulate our-
20 THE GOOD AS GOOD WILL
serves on having nothing further to do or hope for ? To have com-
passeed all our aim is to have ceased to be moral ; but goodness as
moral aim must be continuous or of one piece with goodness as
moral endeavour. Even "perfect" goodness must still be moral in
the sense in which we now understand that quality, else are we faced
with an inexplicable hiatus within experience, i.e., a striving after
goodness, or goodness simply, of one kind, and an attained good
ness of another kind.
The sum of the whole matter is this : that final ethical value
is not to be found in either pursuit or attainment, if the one is
divorced from the other. Pursuit is justified through attainment,
and the worth of attainment is guaranteed as it is an inspiration to
further pursuit. In Psychology we need the notion of mental re
tention, the conservation of past living experiences in permanent
and present dispositions, which are dispositions to further active
experience. So in Ethics we need the notion of moral retention, the
conservation of past moral attainment in a general disposition (since
morality infects the whole man), which is a disposition to further
moral activity. In a word, we need the notion of the Good Will.
This notion embraces both pursuit and attainment, and in closest
unity. Obviously it means incesssant pursuit. The very idea of will
includes willing, the actual and deliberate attempt to gain some
objective, as distinct from merely wishing for it, or giving it an
unctuous blessing. And it can include willing an objective that
had its first suggestions to us in the "phenomenal" world, or made
its first appeal to our "lower" nature of instinct. Its ultimate
suggestions, however, arise in the "intelligible" world, and its final
appeal is to, and answerable only by, our genuine volition as mani
fested in particular acts of self-absorbing will. On the other hand,
the good, taken as Good Will, connotes something already within
our grasp. Will in its very nature must be more than occasional
manifestations, otherwise it would be on a level with instinct. But
it is rather on a level with the sentiments, especially with the per
manent and pervasive self -sentiment, by which it is directed. So
that its manifestations are of the settled general mode of feeling and
acting. On this side of it, will is what is commonly known as
willingness. Morally considered, it can become willingness towards
good, or good-will in the popular sense. We ordinarily judge a
man of good- will by his readiness to respond to worthy projects, or
because we uniformly find him well-disposed towards our approach.
We know him again employing popular parlance, and without cant
as "a good man." He is such when not occupied with distinct
ively moral matters, and even when asleep. That is the kind of man
that he is, as we would say. All this means that he has attained
THE GOOD AS GOOD WILL 21
to a certain ethical condition that is relatively permanent, that he
does even now display a positive moral stature. Not that he has
already attained fully, but he has attained somewhat, and in mom
ents of sober self-examination he has genuine cause for satisfaction
in that something attempted has produced something done in the
domain of character. He gets pleasure in being goodly-disposed:
it would be inaccurate to say that he is well-disposed because he is
pleased, unless we give another meaning to "disposition," or unless
we have in mind that satisfaction is a reinforcement of further
activity. For that is how the matter would appear to him: his
attainment would be satisfactory as it would be recognized to facili
tate further conduct of the same general kind. It would be highly
unsatisfactory to such as he were it felt to be final and not to be
bettered, just as, on the other hand, he would be dismayed at the
prospect of a continual on-going unrelieved by any signs of achieve
ment on the way.
The present writer can think of no notion that so adequately
meets these demands of moral experience as does the Good
Will. Pleasure alone cannot meet them, nor can perpetual reaching-
out, taken by itself, but Good Will is a notion that combines both
these elements. Observe, however, that it does not combine them as
by a mere name for their harmonious interplay; so that they and
not it are finally our concern. Rather are they grounded in and
derive their significance from it. The good, we must insist, is not
pleasure, or pursuit, or pleasure-cum-pursuit, but the Good Will.
The good is the whole moral character, one and indivisible. It is as
I have, or am, a Good Will that I enjoy attainment and prosecute
endeavour that are morally valuable. These latter are expressions
of the Good Will ; or again they are means towards the further in
crease of willingness and direction of willing. On the whole, it
appears obvious (at least to one person) that my goodness must
be my goodness, the goodness of me: that as such it must be both a
present possession and a future employment: and therefore that it
must be bound up in the central feature of my being, viz., my will,
which is the meeting and melting point of my capacities and
activities. It may be insisted that this view really abolishes an
Ethical ideal, since if I am doing my best now my will is as good
as it can be, and I and my will are one ; or it may be urged th at the
moral ideal is always ahead of us, whereas this view puts it within
our present grasp as already realized. Taking the second objection
first : it may be admitted that the perfect fulfilment of the ideal is
still ahead of us, and that there is a sense in which we have not
yet attained. Yet it must be denied that the ideal or its appropri
ation are entirely future; this is another form of that externali-
22 THE GOOD AS GOOD WILL
sation that we remarked upon at the outset. If the ideal for me is
my perfect goodness, then it can be my ideal only as I am at present,
and to some positive extent, good. It can be my goal only if I am on
the path leading to it. As to the prior objection, we must reply that
if we are doing our best at present, we are as good as we can be
at present, though we may and should be better to-morrow. We
cannot deny progress in goodness indeed we have expressly sought
to find its proper place but it must be remembered that moral
progress depends 1 on earnestness, and that earnestness in turn means
that I am doing my best to-day, and so am the best that I to-day can
reach.
A more serious criticism of this position would lie in the revival
of the charge often brought against Kantianism, that it furnishes
only a formal criterion, and gives no leading as to the content of
the good, and no means of deciding as to how the will is good.
But, in the first place, no other theory has done more than pre
scribe the form of the good. Hedonism professes to be the most
practical of theories, but it has its own difficulties. If it suggests
the evaluation of conduct by the attendant pleasure, it becomes
clear that present pleasure is not always a sign of unquestionable
good; if it places the criterion in the utmost general happiness,
not only is it involved in perplexity in the simple application of its
calculus, but its standard is as formal as anyone could wish. In
the second place, it is impossible in the very nature of the case to
give more than the formal character of goodness. If we attempt to
include pure content that is not itself general, and so formal, we
are committed to the fully detailed description of every person s life
and of all his activities. This would reduce us to the discredited
minuteness of illegitimate casuistry. There is a casuistry that is
legitimate, but only as it stops short at sub-principles, leaving every
man to be in the last resort his own casuist. If we are unable to
escape formality, then the theory of Good Will gives more lucidity
than any other. But our task is not to escape from but to positively
develop the form of the good. This means that we are to display the
content of living in its most adequate organisation, for that life is
(formally) perfect which is perfectly systematized or one with itself.
And this involves empirical knowledge of the wealth of material that
human life can offer for organisation, a knowledge gained chiefly
through Psychology and the social sciences. We may accept the
view that the instincts determine the ends for human striving, but
of themselves they do not determine the reconciliation of the vari
ous ends which may be at variance. Each instinctive activity has
its own form, but there is needed a higher principle of organisation
to impose form on the instincts as co-existing and co-acting. What
THE GOOD A8 GOOD WILL 23
is needed is the unitary working of the conations as will, and the
will is good when it is achieving the maximum of unity that is pos
sible for the person at the time. Our whole position is based on
two claims : (a) that perfect unity of the person is effected by and
resides in his will, and (b) that this perfect unity of the person
or such measure of the perfection as is possible at the time is the
goodness of the person. The second claim must for the present be
put forward as a dogma in the faith of its ready acceptability. The
first claim is buttressed by many results of present-day science and
philosophy. Many biologists are finding the explanation of suc
cessful organic functioning in a principle of entelechy, or of tele
ology, and numerous psychologists are invoking the same general
category to elucidate the next stage of being, viz., mental function
ing; and here the teleology gets fullest expression in explicit voli
tional control. There is a further stage, the spiritual (including
the moral), wherein ideals are the prime determinants 1 of the activi
ties, and these are obviously unified by Will in its character of the
ideal in action and settled governance. In a word, our goodness is
a matter of our purpose, and our purpose is a matter of our Will.
The conclusion is inescapable that moral good, as the goodness of
persons, as the unifying of their nature (with its organic, mental
and spiritual elements), and as the reconciliation of the necessary
factors of pursuit and attainment that this moral Good is the Good
Will, and can be nothing other. Certainly it is that which all the
world at present is a-seeking, for we are continually reminded on
all hands that it is the solution for our many problems, and that
peace on earth is possible only amongst men of Good Will.
NOTES BY THE WAY.
No. 2.
As Others See Us.
Christendom is governed in recent times by three several systems
of use and wont, sovereign action-patterns induced by the run of past
habituatio.n : (a) the mechanical system of industry, (b) the price (and
credit) system, (c) the conception of national integrity. The existing
industrial system is dominated by the technology of physics and
chemistry. The price system is dominated by absentee ownership.
The nation, considered as a habit of thought, is a residual form of the
predatory dynastic state of early moderri times, with some superficial
alterations due to a suffusion of democratic and parliamentary
institutions.
H. Veblen, in Absentee Ownership.
24
MODERN CAMBRIDGE PHILOSOPHERS
By A. Bex Knight, B.A. (Syd.). Trinity College, Cambridge.
A FEATURE of the study of philosophy in Great Britain is
the eagerness with which each fres-h contribution to the store of
philosophical knowledge is discussed in undergraduate circles.
Professor Stout had scarcely enunciated his new conception of the
nature of universals before his arguments .and conclusions were
being dealt with by the Jowett Society in Oxford. Professor White-
head s Concept of Nature had hardly issued from the press before
the Cambridge Moral Science Club set itself up to try his case.
And it is not only in what has already been published that the inter
est is keen. Students from Edinburgh had prepared us for Pro
fessor Kemp Smith s new book long before it appeared; and we
have for some time been wondering whether Professor A. E.
Taylor s promised work will justify the opinion that close acquaint
ance with Prindpia Mathematica, and with the writings of St.
Thomas Aquinas, has caused him to modify the views which he
advocated in his Elements of Metaphysic.
There &re, of course, several reasons why this should be so.
Students of philosophy at the larger English and Scottish univer
sities are not under the necessity of passing an examination in any
non-philosophical subject: they are not compelled, both to write
metaphysical essays, and to elucidate obscure lines in Lucretius.
Further, they can attend lectures on contemporary philosophy, and
they are in daily and intimate contact with some of the greatest
contemporary philosophers themselves, whose mental gymnastics
they can watch and criticise in lecture-rooms, in conference halls,
and at tea-parties. Now, that all these things are advantages which
are not equally enjoyed by students in the dominions, I know from
my own experience. Still, most Australian students of philosophy
have time to pay some attention to the writings of present-day philo
sophers. And it is in the hope of interesting those who have not
hitherto had any interest in modern developments, as well as those
who have, that I am writing this brief account of five of the men
who have made Cambridge one of the chief centres of philosophical
interest.*
I.
Professor James Ward, whose name is as familiar to psycho
logists as to metaphysicians, is the oldest, and probably the most
famous, of this group. In years he is a contemporary of Mr.
* I have dealt only with those philosophers who are chiefly concerned with
metaphysics. Professor Sorley and Mr. W. E. Jdhnson are also important men.
but their work deals* almost exclusively with ethics and logic respectively. [This
article was written before the lamented deaths of Bradley and McTaggart.
Editor.]
MODERN CAMBRIDGE PHILOSOPHERS 25
Bradley, and indeed he wrote one of the first reviews of Appearance
and Reality. But, while Mr. Bradley now contributes nothing to
metaphysical or ethical speculation, Professor Ward has promised to
write an account of himself and his views for the second volume of
Contemporary British Philosophy, and to read the introductory
paper at a symposium which is to be held in November.
Professor Ward s chief contributions to speculative philosophy
are to be found in Naturalism and Agnosticism and The Realm of
Ends. His philosophical system is a spiritual monadology; and in
this respect as in others, he has shewn himself a close follower of
Leibniz. He may, I think, fairly be called a "mental pluralist/
For, in contrast to those who hold that there exist things, whose
existence or character is in no way dependent on the existence of
minds or of Mind, he maintains that everything which exists, either
is, or contains, a mind or a state of mind. And, in contrast to
those who deny that there is a plurality of existents, or a plurality
of purposes, in the universe, he urges that there exist "animated
individual things," each of which strives to preserve and improve
itself. Professor Ward takes pains to defend his pluralism, and to
put forward arguments for the position that all that exists is mental.
Like Leibniz, he wishes to do away with the distinction between
the organic and "what we call" the inorganic, and to insist that
they differ from each other only in degree.
But, although Professor Ward is a pluralist, he nevertheless
holds that the idea of God is ontologically and teleologically neces
sary to the completion of the idea of the Many. He thinks that "we
are led both on theoretical and on practical grounds to conceive a
more fundamental standpoint than this of the Many, namely that
of the One ... as ultimate source of their being and ultimate
end of their ends."* God, however, is to be though of, not as a
mere abstraction an inconceivable Absolute, in whom contradic
tions are somehow "reconciled," and evils somehow " absorbed" ; nor
yet as an omnipotent Chess Player, who "with men for pieces plays."
God implies the world, and would not be God without it. He is,
in some unusual sense, the Creator of the world ; but the world was
not created merely as a means to the divine end : and although He
"transcends" the world, He is the "ground" of the world, and
"immanent in every part of it." He is not related to the world as
its external cause. He is not an omnipotent Being, who created the
world merely to satisfy a desire, but a non-omnipotent Person, who
is within the world, and who differs from other parts of it, only in
the magnitude, and not in the character, of his attributes.
* Cf. The Realm of Ends, p. 442
26 MODERN CAMBRIDGE PHILOSOPHERS
It is interesting to note that Professor Ward does not limit
the power of God through deference to the existence of evil, but be
cause the idea of an omnipotent One is thought to be incongruous
with the idea of a plurality of existent particulars. The course of
the world is regarded as being set towards the Good. And the exist
ence of evil is considered to be necessary in order that, through sor
row and pain, men may "learn by heart" that only righteousness
exalteth a nation, and that those who pursue evil perish.
From this account the similarity between Professor Ward and
Leibniz will be sufficiently apparent. Both hold that the universe
consists of a number of animated individuals, each aiming at self-
development. Both assign to God merely a place among other indi
viduals, regarding him as a sort of "big Monad," who somehow
enters- into the other monads, and yet transcends them all. And
both deal with the problem of evil in much the same way. Indeed,
so great is the similarity that I think most of the objections which
are valid as against the Monadology, are also valid AS against The
Realm of Ends. Neither system deals adequately with the consider
ations which have led men to draw ia sharp distinction between what
they describe as material and what they describe as mental. And
neither system is convincing in its treatment of the existence and
nature of God, or of the way in which a finite God, who is merely a
part of the world, can yet have created the world, and can give a
unity to the many varied purposes of its different constituents.
Of course, much of what both systems assert may be true. And
Professor Ward realises that belief in his system will not come as
the result of reasoned argument, but will require an act of faith.
But, although many of the things which he says- concerning faith
are true, there are some important points with which he does not
deal. It is one thing to hold that some ideas come to us as the
result of a process which is not that of conscious ratiocination. It-
is quite another to assert that such ideas are specially exempt from
any examination by logical criteria of truth. And, while the exig-
gencies of life often demand that we should act on assumptions, and
not wait to tbe rationally convinced, there is no good reason why we
should believe any theoretical proposition about the universe which
is neither obviously nor demonstratively certain. And, even if it
could be shewn to be desirable to believe any such propositions, the
mere desirability of the belief would not establish the truth of what
was believed. The arguments by which Bishop Blougram sought to
convert Mr. Gigadibs, simply won t do.*
* Professor Ward s work in psychology, and his view that the difference
between psychology and the natural sciences is not one of subject-matter, could
not be profitably dealt with here.
MODERN CAMBRIDGE PHILOSOPHERS 27
II.
Dr. McTaggart, who, until last year, was the Supervisor in
Moral Sciences at Trinity College, and still delivers lectures on
modern philosophy, is also interested in theological dogmas. But,
unlike Professor Ward, he thinks that, in the case of most of them,
there is no conclusive evidence that they are true, or even probable.
Dr. McTaggart is very opposed to the view which holds that true
religion can be possessed as well by the ignorant as by the wise.
Nevertheless, he is very suspicious of any "grateful and comforting
mixture of idealistic metaphysics and edifying social <and ethical
theory" ; for he holds that too many such mixtures have nothing to
recommend them beyond the comfort which they confer on those
who accept them. According to him, no religion is justifiable unless
it is based on metaphysics. And, seeing that this involves that
religion is justified for only a few people, he argues that this con
sequence proves, not that his premises are false, but that religion
is one of those "praeclara" which are "tarn difficilia quam rara."
Dr. McTaggart does not deny that those who believe in the
existence of an omnipotent beneficent God are likely to derive much
happiness from their belief. But, in Some Dogmas of Religion, he
concludes, as the result of detailed argument, that, although the
arguments for the existence of a non-creative non-omnipotent God
are more plausible than the arguments for the existence of either a
creative omnipotent God or a creative non-omnipotent God, they are
far from convincing. His discussion contains many important
points, concerning the traditional arguments for the existence of
God, which are very often overlooked, both by those who use the
arguments, and by those who seek to refute them.
In the same book Dr. McTaggart deals with the problems of
free-will, of the immortality of the soul, and of pre-existence. In
the free-will controversy he is a convinced determinist, unafraid to
declare openly that Buridan s ass would surely die. As regards the
other problems, he considers it probable that immortality is true,
and that, for this reason as well as other and independent reasons,
it is also probable that pre-existence is true. These chapters, too,
will delight anyone who appreciates concise logical argument inter
spersed with lively illustrations.
The more constructive, and what Dr. McTaggart himself con
siders the more important, part of his work is contained in The
Nature of Existence, the first part of which alone has been pub
lished. In this book he is patiently and carefully working out an
elaborate deductive system, which is of such a kind that it justifies
Dr. McTaggart in saying "Ontologically I am an idealist."* Except
* Cf. his article In Contemporary British Philosophy (vol. i).
28 MODERN CAMBRIDGE PHILOSOPHERS
for two empirical premises (that something exists, and that what
exists is differentiated), he claims that his system is wholly a priori.
He professes to have shown, by pure logic, that everything which
exists must have certain properties, in particular that the universe
consists of selves , groups of selves, parts of selves, and parts of
groups of selves, and that these different elements must stand in a
certain relation of "determining correspondence." And, since it
seems clear. that spirit is the only thing which can have this pro
perty, therefore nothing but spirit exists, and we "mispereeive"
things as matter and as existing in time. True perception is a re
lation of love the perceiving self loving the perceived self. "This
is the fact which decides all other emotions. If I love A, I shall
regard myself with reverence, because I love him. If I indirectly
perceive B, by perceiving A s perception of B, I shall regard B with
a feeling which may be distinguished from love by calling it affec
tion. And I shall regard with complacency the parts of selves
whom I regard with love, self -reverence, or affection." Thus, so long
as veridical perception exists, the universe is bound together by love.
Like all elaborate metaphysical systems, Dr. McTaggart s ex
cites a sceptical attitude even when one cannot see what is wrong
with it in detail. And, in addition to its apparent completeness,
which alone is enough to raise doubts in the minds of all who know
how fragmentary our knowledge is, it contains certain extraordinary
conclusions, which certainly seem to contradict observed facts. His
denial of the reality of time and change, and his conception of
things as "selves," are notions which do not wear their truth on their
sleeves. But they have at least been held before by different philoso
phers, even though the opinions of those other philosophers may not
be exactly the same as Dr. McTaggart s. Such is not the case with
his view of perception. In calling true perception a relation of love,
Dr. McTaggart claims that he means by "love" just what is ordin
arily meant by the term. Now, from this it will follow that we only
truly perceive other people, for it is ordinarily held that it is only
other people whom we can love. Dr. McTaggart might reply that,
because things are really selves, we can perceive them too, since we
can love them. But this would overlook the fact that we do not
ordinarily speak of loving things, and would imply that his mean
ing of love is not the usual meaning. Since we mean by love a
relation which can hold only between what we call selves Dr.
McTaggart is in an unfortunate dilemma. Either he is wrong in
claiming that he is using "love" in its ordinary sense ; or his theory
implies that we never truly perceive what we call things. And there
are further difficulties connected with the obscurity of the idea of
anyone "indirectly perceiving B, by perceiving A s perception of
MODERN CAMBRIDGE PHILOSOPHERS 29
B." For my part, I think Dr. McTaggart s views about love and
affection are in the same boat as Spinoza s : they are perfectly valid
so long as we remember that the meaning given to "love" is one
which nobody else ever gives it.
It must not be thought, however, that Dr. McTiaggart is one
of those castle-builders about whom Thomas Eeid had such hard
things to say. He is not concerned only with the splendour of his
superstructure : he does try to make sure that the foundations are
securely placed. Sis philosophical edifice has not been built in a
day; and, even by those who think it merely a house of cards, it is
admitted that the cards fit very neatly together. Most of his critics
are able to point out the discrepancy between what he claims to
have arrived at deductively, and what common-sense claims to know
by experience. And it is clear that this discrepancy demands that
the system should be rigorously tested before it is accepted. But
few have attempted this examination, and still fewer have been
able to lay their finger on any logical flaw in his armour. It is
probably possible to show either that his premises are false, or that
the chain of his argument contains a weak link: still, this possi
bility does not justify the ridiculous opinion, common among those
who know nothing of his work, that he is merely a somewhat imper
fect reproduction of Hegel, and can safely be neglected.
III.
The creation of the present Cambridge School of Philosophy
if it can be called a School at all is due to the Hon. Bertrand Rus
sell and to Dr. Moore. By insisting on the need of the analytical
method in philosophy, by occupying themselves chiefly with the task
of laying bare fallacies in idealistic systems, and by favouring cer
tain opinions about the nature of physical objects, these two men
have caused Cambridge to be regarded as the home of scientific
philosophers, and of "Neo-Realism." They are still anxious to be
thought of as scientific ; but, because there has been an astounding
rush to the banner of Neo-Realism, and Mr. Russell and Dr. Moore
do not like their new company, they now prefer to give no name to
their views as a whole. All that they ask is that philosophers will
practise the logioo-analytical method, and not neglect certain facts
and considerations which they themselves have taken care to point
out.
Mr. Russell is a very prolific writer. His style is very pleasing,
and varies in character from the rhetorical fervour of his essay on
"The Free Man s Worship" to the clear-cut precision of The Prin
ciples of Mathematics. His writings are always occupied with one
or other of three things: (1) explaining the fundamental concepts
which mathematics takes as indefinable, and proving (a) that pure
30 MODERN CAMBRIDGE PHILOSOPHERS
mathematics deals exclusively with concepts definable in a small
number of fundamental logical concepts, and (b) that all its pro
positions are deducible from a small number of logical principles;
(2) advocating scientific method in philosophy, and a scientific
attitude towards life; (3) discussing the nature of physical objects,
and possible structures of the world.
An article such as this is no place to consider in any detail
Mr. Russell s important and revolutionary work in mathematical
logic. But something may be said of the method which he thinks all
philosophers should employ, and of the results which he thinks he
himself has obtained by employing it.
The method which Mr. Kussell advocates is scientific method.
Philosophy, he contends, should aim only at understanding the
nature of the world, and not directly at any other improvement of
human life. The philosopher, like the scientist or because he is
a scientist, must preserve a strict ethical neutrality. He must for
get his likes and dislikes, his hopes and fears, and consider, not what
the world ought to be, or what he would like it to be, but simply
what it is. And the essence of philosophy at present is analysis,
not synthesis: "Divide and conquer" is the key to success here as
elsewhere. "Most philosophies hitherto," he declares, "have been
constructed all in one block, in such a way that, if they were not
wholly correct, they were wholly incorrect, and could not be used as
a basis for further investigations ... A scientific philosophy
such as I wish to recommend will be piecemeal and tentative like
other sciences; above all it will be able to invent hypotheses which,
even if they are not wholly true, will yet remain fruitful after the
necessary corrections have been made. The possibility of successive
approximations to the truth is, more than anything else, the source
of the triumphs of science, and to transfer this possibility to philo
sophy is to ensure a progress in method whose importance it would
be almost impossible to exaggerate."*
Mr. Russell also desires that the scientific attitude towards life
and the world should become general, and, in this 1 respect, is very
similar to another philosopher who also talked of the joy of dis
covering truth, and of the virtues of "free men." To be free from
the bondage of the emotions and passions, to seek chiefly for sure
and certain knowledge, to do what one can to make the lot of others
happier these are the Spinozistic virtues which Mr. Russell gives to
"The Free Man," whose worship he has so eloquently described.
* Mysticism and Logic, p. 113.
MODERN CAMBRIDGE PHILOSOPHERS 31
The scientific mood and method should be evident, not only in our
dealings with philosophy, but also in our dealings with other men;
and we should exercise as much care in estimating the value of a
political policy as in discussing the relation between body and mind.
It is a tribute to the scientific method that only those who use
it are able to make valid criticisms of Mr. Russell s theories about
the nature of the external world. Mr. Eussell holds that what we
call "things" trees, chairs, tables, etc., are really collections of
possible appearances. The lamp, at which I am now looking, is just
that collection which includes the certain colour, and shape, and
size, which I see, together with all the different colours, and shapes,
and sizes, which different people, standing in different positions,
would see, if they directed their eyes towards what we ordinarily call
"the lamp." And the collection not only includes different colours
and shapes and sizes, which ,are visual sensa (t.e., given to the sense
of sight), but it includes as well all the tactual, auditory, and
other kinds of sensa which could possibly be sensed by people
standing in certain positions relative to the lamp. A "thing" be
comes, then, a collection which consists of my present sensa (a cer
tain colour, a certain shape, a certain size, a certain sound, a cer
tain temperature, a certain hardness, a certain smell) together
with an indefinite number of sensibilk (i.e., all colours, shapes,
sizes, etc., which, though not being sensed by anyone at present,
would exist as sensa for people who stood in different positions re
lative to what common-sense calls the "thing"). The sun is the
collection which consists of (1) the sensa I have when I look at
what men innocently, but wrongly, call the sun; together with (2)
all the sensa which would be sensed by percipients at all the possible
distances from what we ordinarily mean when we talk of "the sun."
There are several objections to a view of this type. (1) In the
first place, its intelligibility depends on the existence of things
in our sense. Mr. Russell s collection is not a collection of all the
appearances which would appear to men, wherever they were, and in
whatever direction they were looking. The collection, of which Mr.
Russell says the sun consists, does not include the appearances
which appear to the man who is looking down his nose, but only all
those appearances which appear to those who are looking towards
what we call the sun. And so, in order to define his collection, Mr.
Russell must assume that things in our sense, exist. He endeavours
to escape this difficulty by saying that A and B will be both mem
bers of the collection which is .a thing, if A is related to the other
sensa of the person who is sensing (or could sense) A in the same
32 MODERN CAMBRIDGE PHILOSOPHERS
way as B is related to the other sensa of the person who is sensing
(or could sense) B. But, when we probe deeper, it is clear that the
collection, which Mr. Russell calls a thing, is a collection of all the
possible sensa of the same thing in our sense. (2) Secondly, there
are several difficulties connected with the fact that Mr. Russell has
never dealt with the observer s body in terms of his theory. And (3)
Thirdly, if to those actual and possible present appearances, which
are members of Mr. Russell s collection or "thing," we are to add
all those appearances which the thing (in our sense) has, or could
have, exhibited in the past, and those which it will exhibit, or will
be able to exhibit, in the future, it seems that we must deny the
possibility of change. For then the wood is not really changed into
ashes when I put it on the fire; both the wood and the ashes have
always existed, but first the one "appears," and then the other.
And although I talk of having come from Australia to England, I
am really still in Australia: indeed I have all along been in both
places.
These are but three of the difficulties which Mr. Russell s theory
involves. However, Mr. Russell himself would readily admit that it
is not a theory at all, but merely a tentative hypothesis. This makes
it a very convenient target for those who are more intent on securing
verbal hits than on helping to disentangle the complexities of
nature. But I do not suppose for a moment, either that Mr. Russell
is completely satisfied with his theory, or that he is not as aware
of the objections to it as I am.
IV.
Dr. Gr. E. Moore, who has dealt so many death-blows to differ
ent idealistic systems, is the very opposite of Mr. Russell in the
matter of writing. His style is concerned only to express the truth
in as precise a manner as possible: he has published only three
books, and of these two deal with the same material,* and the other
Philosophical Studies is merely a collection of articles which
had previously appeared in different philosophical journals. More
over, "while Mr. Russell produces a new theory of the world every
few years, Dr. Moo re never produces one at all." He spends his time
subjecting all such theories to a rigorous examination, pointing out
the objections which may be miade to each, and inculcating an atti
tude of suspense in regard to them all. He has a positive hatred of
vagueness, and a positive passion for exactness. These qualities
make for progress in philosophy; but they do not make for love
among philosophers. And it is not to be wondered at, if he has
* Principia Ethica, and Ethics (Home University Library).
MODERN CAMBRIDGE PHILOSOPHERS 33
incurred the displeasure of those philosophers whose views, though
plausible in themselves, he has shewn to lead to the most absurd
conclusions.
The way in which Dr. Moore employs his devastating critical
acumen may perhaps be called "the method of inevitable conse
quences." He takes a certain theory as for example, Mr. Bradley s
doctrine that no relations are purely external and shows that the
propositions, which it asserts, imply other propositions, which are
certainly false. In his essay on "William James Pragmatism,"* he
first points out that, by rejecting the "copy" view of truth on the
ground that all true ideas do not "copy" reality, James implies
"that no theory of truth will be correct unless it tells us of some pro
perty which belongs to all our ideas without exception." He then
shows that, since James regarded his own theory as a theory of
"what truth means," therefore he must wish to assert "that not only
many but all our true ideas are or can be verified ; and that all of
them are useful." And it only remains for him to shew that neither
of these statements is true. This is always his method, both with
other people s opinions and with his own. It is always his aim to
find out, with regard to any proposition, whether it does not lead to
conclusions that are false.
Dr. Moore s lectures deal with the relation of sensa to physical
objects, and with the nature of the self. He divides all theories
about the first into three types : those which assert that the sensum
is a part of the surface of a physical object ; those which assert that
there is a relation between the sensum and the surface of the physical
object, but that this is not the relation of part to whole; and those
which regard the sensum as an "incomplete symbol" in Mr. Kussell s
sense. Dr. Moore considers many different theories under each type,
and, at the end of the course, there is scarcely any philosopher,
living or dead, who has not been dealt with. He thinks that all
three types rest on a number of unproved and unprovable assump
tions, but that the objections to the second and third types are less
than the objections to the first type. The result of his meticulously
accurate discussion is that one sees how presumptuous that man is,
who thinks his own theory definitely right, or someone else s defin
itely wrong.
The notion of the self is treated in similar fashion, and the
conclusions reached are also similar. The same need for suspense is
urged, even though Dr Moore thinks it "almost certain" that the
theory which holds that the self is a particular is the "most
probable."
Philosophical Studies, p. 97 ff.
34 MODERN CAMBRIDGE PHILOSOPHERS
Most of Dr. Moore s published work has to do with ethics, and
his two books on the subject contain some of the most valuable con
tributions that have ever been made to the subject. But, as I have
deliberately banned ethics from this discussion, I shall mention only
that he concludes that "good" is an ultimate, indefinable predicate,
which cannot be identified with "pleasure" or "what is desired" 01
any similar notion. He accepts the distinction between intrinsic
and instrumental good, and holds that the Tightness or wrongness
of an action is entirely determined by the relation which its effects
bear to intrinsic good. Motives, he contends, and other mental
states are important in determining a man s character, but they are
irrelevant to the ethical nature of his acts.
V.
The last philosopher whom I wish to consider is Dr. Broad,
who was an undergraduate at Trinity in 1910, and Professor of
Philosophy ,at Bristol in 1920. He is now back at Cambridge,
having succeeded Dr. McTaggart as Supervisor in Moral Sciences
at his old college. He is, of course, much younger than the other
Cambridge philosophers of note, but it is very doubtful whether he
has not already become as famous as any of them.
Dr. Broad used to be more interested in the natural sciences
than in philosophy ; but, during the last ten years, his interests have
changed in relative importance. And, although he still keeps him
self au fait with every advance in the special sciences, he is now
mainly occupied, both in his discussions and in his lectures, with
philosophical problems.
Dr. Broad has "a natural dislike for every kind of Schwarmerei
and enthusiasm in philosophy," a strong aversion from the oracular
style of writing on philosophical subjects, and little patience with
those who use it: he is very opposed to those who would rather be
muddled with ease than be clear with difficulty, and he thinks that
it is far simpler to cover confusion with glittering rhetoric than to
express the truth exactly. As befits one who holds these views, his
own writings, though charming in their fluency and humour, are
perfectly clear and straightforward; and every line of his works
conveys the impression that he is concerned, not to advocate this or
that thesis, but only to discover the truth and expose falsehood.
This frame of mind is very evident in his attitude to mystical ex
periences and to spiritistic phenomena. Mystics 1 , he thinks, have
been too much neglected ; and, "in so far as the capacity for mystical
experiences can be cultivated by a suitable mode of life . . .
without detriment to the critical faculties, it deserves the serious
attention of philosophers ; for theories which are built on experiences
MODERN CAMBRIDGE PHILOSOPHERS 35
known only by description are always unsatisfactory."* And his
attitude to the phenomena dealt with by the Society for Physical
Research is very similar. He has always thought that the way in
which scientists treat such phenomena is both dishonest and ridicu
lous an opinion, which, he says, "has been strengthened by subse
quent intercourse with the skeletons which inductive logic keeps in
its cupboards."*
In Scientific Thought, which was published only last year, Dr.
Broad (1) expounds the Theory of Relativity, "without entering
too deeply into those logico-mathematical complications which are
inevitable when it is applied in detail"; (2) discusses the problems
connected with the notions of time and change, making some answer
to the arguments by which Dr. McTaggart has sought to disprove
the reality of these apparently fundamental features of the universe ;
and (3) points out, with great care and in detail, "the sensible and
perceptible facts which underlie the highly abstract concepts of
science, and the cruder, but still highly sophisticated, concepts of
common sense."
The more purely philosophical problems with which the book
deals are two : to clear up the meaning of physical "shape," "size,"
date," "duration," etc. ; and to determine the ontological and episte-
mological status of sensa. He concludes that sensa are no mere
fictions existing nowhere and nowhen, but that they form a group
of existents whose members bear to each other peculiar re
lations which obtain only (among sensa. "It seems clear," he says,
"that either (1) sensible determinates (such as some particular
shade of red) do not inhere in regions of physical space-time, but
in regions of some other Space-Time; or (2) that, if they do inhere
in regions of physical Space-Time, they must inhere in the latter in
some different way from that in which physical determinates (like
physical motion) do so."* And these alternatives he considers, not
as mutually exclusive, but as complementary.
This theory is, in effect, an attempt to combine the main tenets
of realism with Professor Whitehead s distinction between "sense-
objects," "perceptual objects" and "scientific objects." But Dr.
Broad does not regard the result of his argument as* a final result.
He expressly remarks that "we still await the man who will show
us in detail how the world of physics and the world of sensible ap
pearance are united into the one whole of Nature."* And he only
claims to have stated some of the facts which such a man "will have
* These quotations occur in his contribution to Contemporary British
Philosophy.
* Scientific Thought, pp. 543-4.
* op. cit. pp. 547-8.
36 MODERN CAMBRIDGE PHILOSOPHERS
to take into account and to unify." The importance of Scientific
Thought lies in the reasoned argument with which it is neatly
packed : and its charm is due to its entertaining style a style that
will interest those who know no philosophy whatever, and no mathe
matics beyond what they learnt "at their mother s knee."
Dr. Broad delivers two courses of lectures: one on general
philosophical problems, and the other on Descartes, Spinoza and
Malebranche. In the first, he deals with a variety of subjects
monism, pluralism, the relation of body and mind, the notion of
cause, etc., and he treats them all in that precise and thorough man
ner which used to flabbergast Mr. Eussell, when he was a Fellow of
Trinity and Dr. Broad was an undergraduate. In the second
course, his fair-mindedness and hate of being captious are also ap
parent. Having made what external criticisms of Spinoza s system
he thinks >are important, he never repeats them, and confines himself
to the internal development of Spinoza s thought. He tries to give
Spinoza as he tries to give everyone else the best possible "run for
his money."
It will be appropriate to conclude with a reference to Dr.
Broad s distinction between critical and speculative philosophy.*
For this distinction is not peculiar to him, but is one of those points
of agreement among Cambridge philosophers which justify one in
talking of the Cambridge "School" of philosophy. Dr. Broad clearly
distinguishes between (1) the analysis of the concepts and prin
ciples used by science and common-sense, and (2) the construction,
on the basis of such analysis, of a system of Reality. He thinks that
the former is what we should be chiefly engaged in at present, and
that "the main value of Speculative Philosophy lies, not in its con
clusions, but in the collateral effects which it has, or ought to have,
on the persons who pursue it." This distinction is, of course, just
the distinction which Mr. Russell draws between analytic and syn
thetic philosophy. But Dr. Broad has worked out the point in
greater detail : and, in any case, it is a distinction whose influence
on the practice of Cambridge philosophers could scarcely be
exaggerated.
* Cf. Scientific Thought, Introduction, and his article in Contemporary
British Philosophy.
37
ANATOLE FRANCE AN APPRECIATION.
By Professor J. Alexander Gunn, M.A., B.Sc., Ph.D.,
University of Melbourne.
ANATOLE FRANCE is dead. But we may add, "Long live
the French genius!" He was in many respects its embodiment.
All lovers of France and its literature mourn the passing of the
creator of L abbe Coignard, Monsieur Bergeret and Sylvestre
Bonnard. He was a superb artist, a keen psychologist, a critic,
satirist and philosopher. Nothing human was alien to him.
L artiste, he himself remarks, doit aimer la vie. It is this intense
interest in life, in all the variety of its manifestations, which lay
behind and inspired all his work.
"France" is the nom-de-plume he used in place of his own sur
name, Thibault. In youth, Anatole was <a child of Paris and spent
much time among books both in his father s little shop on the Quai
Malaquais, and in the curious folding boxes which are strapped to
the wall along the banks of the Seine. He "browsed" freely among
the "bouquins," observed the varied "types" of his own city, did not
over-study, and developed along a line which was not the conven
tional one pursued by school learning. In his studies, however,
he was keenly interested in all concerning Greece. The intense
humanism of the Greek dramatists and philosophers appealed to
him powerfully. Although his mother was a devoted Catholic and
he himself received his training at the College Stanislaus, Amatole
France was too deeply imbued with the spirit of humanism in its
fullest and deepest sense to accept the teaching of the Roman
Catholic Church. Yet his works reveal a temper which respects
true piety. He was too human to disrespect things which are
sacred to the hearts of men, iand he smiles at the enthusiastic ration
alists who aim at the abolition of religion and its replacement by
science. Anatole France combined in a remarkable manner the
characteristics displayed by Montesquieu, Voltaire, Renan land
Taine. The influence of these masters of thought and style is seen
in his own work, and he acknowledged his debt to them.
Some of his books, such as Balthasar, The Well of St. Claire,
and Mother of Pearl displayed sentiments which remind one of
Voltaire, but the critical satire is veiled by the erudition and histor
ical narrative. The last contains the dramatic short story The Pro
curator of Judaea. His Thais, which is now a feature of the Opera
House in Paris, is a play intended to counteract doctrines of pure
asceticism. The narrative concerns a monk, who, failing to convert
a courtesan from her ways, realises at the same time the narrowness
of the cloistered life.
38 ANATOLE FRANCE AN APPRECIATION
We would, however, be taking a false view of this great novelist
if we estimated his mind by these productions alone. His irony
and satire come into play more powerfully when he is dealing with
the great features of human society, such as the Law, the Army,
Philosophy and Politics. His great satire, Penguin Island is one
of his best known works, but it is, in some respects, as satire sur
passed by The Opinions of Jerome Coignard.
Anatole France s power of story-telling can be seen in his first
novel, which he published in 1879 when he was thirty-five, Jocasta
and the Famished Cat, in The Red Lily, and notably in The Gods are
Athirst, and The Crime of Sylvestre Bonnard. This last, a charm
ing work, was crowned by the Academie francaise and raised its
author to European fame, in 1881. Most of his works are available
now for English readers in translation from "The Bodley Head."
No translation, however excellent, can do real justice to the inimi
table style of Anatole France. His French is a joy and a supreme
delight. Its exquisite grace and charm are inimitable, and highly
fascinating.
It is not this alone which constitutes his title to fame and
honour. His ideas are as important as his style. He is philo
sophical, not in a systematic sense, but he is an observer, a spectator
of human affairs, an interpreter of human life in all its aspects and
colours. He takes us to all corners of society, to the dressing-rooms
of the actresses of the Odeon Theatre, or to the study of the pious
priest. His genial criticism falls on all. This is very marked in
Crainquebille, Pierre Noziere, My Friend s Book, and his series of
novels dealing with contemporary life, particularly M. Bergeret in
Paris, which introduces that great episode in recent French national
lifej the Dreyfus affair, with its intense anti-semitism and anti-
clericalism.*
If in Anatole France, religion and conventional morality seem
at times to be severely handled, we must note also his condemnation
of the arrogant tones of science and of the blatant voice of demos.
He sets his face, too, against the prude and the hypocrite ; he smiles
also upon the warm ardour of the radical reformer or revolutionary.
The fixed belief in human progress, which is a great dogma for so
many minds, calls forth his criticism and genial pessimism, which
is after all but a severe "positivism." Anatole France disbelieved
in a "law of progress," and as a critic of our "civilisation" he warned
us sternly by urging the danger which besets humanity, namely,
that it may bring fatal disaster upon itself in continually fighting
* This work Should be compared with Jean Barois, a drama-novel by Roger
Martin du Card, dealing with the same episode.
ANATOLE FRANCE AN APPRECIATION 39
and quarrelling over matters in which it should co-operate. He
warns us solemnly against a facile optimism.
The Abbe Coignard, France s great character, remarks in one
place, "I take little interest in what is done in the King s Cabinet,
for I notice that the course of life is in no way changed and after
reforms men are as before, selfish, avaricious, cowardly, cruel, stupid
and furious by turns, and there is always a nearly even number of
births, marriages, cuckolds >and gallows-birds in which is made
manifest the beautiful ordering of our society. This condition is
stable, sir, and nothing could shake it, for it is founded on human
misery and imbecility and those are foundations which will never
be wanting." The Abbe goes on to remind socialist revolution
aries that new economic schemes will not radically change human
nature.
Yet Anatole France believed in les idees forces and could
assert the opinion that "our ideas create the future." He showed
himself to be a great humanitarian, a good European, a citizen of
the world, possessing an international mind, and he handed over the
total amount of his Nobel Prize for literature (12,000) to the
starving people of Eussia.
Great as a writer, Anatole France, like his fellow countrymen,
Kenan and Voltaire, possessed the capacity for careful observation
and criticism of the society in which he found himself. To that
extent he was a philosopher in the widest sense. Human society
continually needs such men who can hold the mirrow before its
face and remind it of its defects, its follies and its idiosyncracies.
NOTES BY THE WAY.
No. 3.
The Open Secret of Christianity.
The kingdom is not merely for the world to come. The well-being
of mankind here is not to be despised, or set aside as something Chris
tianity is not concerned with. But the essence of Christ s teaching is
that well-being is not to be sought in any particular form of polity,
whether the divine right of kings, as some of our fathers thought, or
the establishment of democracy, as is more popular at the present day,
or the social revolution, as some would believe; nor in the spread of
education; nor in the increase of material wealth, in fruitful commerce
and wisely organised industry, but simply in each person seeking to
live according to God s will and to act righteously. If we do all that,
other goods will inevitably come. This is the secret of Christianity,
and just so far as the world has accepted it has there been 4 real human
progress. The Golden Age comes by each man acting rightly.
From A. C. Headlam s Life and Teaching of Jesus Christ.
40
THE PRESENT STATUS OF PSYCHOLOGY*
By A. H. Martin, M.A., Ph. D., Lecturer in Psychology,
University of Sydney.
I. The General Outlook.
II. A Review of Courses and Equipment.
III. Developments in the University of Sydney.
IV. Future Possibilities for Psychology in Australia and New
Zealand.
I.
THE growth of a popular demand for psychology is shown in
the marked increase of losses in that subject under the auspices of
the University Tutorial Association of the British Empire. The
following figures illustrate this development rather strikingly :
Total Numbers Numbers of Classes in Approximate
Year of Classes Psychology and Philosophy Percentage
1914-15 154 9 6
1921-22 359 50 14
1922-23 363 62 17
NOT is this movement only English; in Australia present
classes in Psychology amount to 17 per cent, of the total, the pre
dilection being most marked in New South Wales, and in Welling
ton, N.Z., where there are strong psychological departments within
the Universities. In Canada the ratio is even as high as 20 per
cent. In U.S.A. a similar state of affairs exists. Though there is
no concerted movement corresponding to the University Tutorial
Class system, each of the great Universities conducts special exten
sion classes. Though no collected figures are available, yet a glance
at the various University "programs" shows that Psychology is not
least favoured among the subjects offering.
Within the Universities the demand for undergraduate and
graduate training in Psychology is equally notable. Among the
older British Institutions, London and Cambridge have long pos
sessed laboratories, while some of the others have established chairs
and lectureships. The newer Universities and Colleges are also fol
lowing upon these lines of development.
*The contents of this paper were reported to the second Annual General
Meeting of the A.A.P.P. held in Melbourne in May of last year. At the
given to work done at Sydney was due to the fact that general interest has been
evinced in this new department and its organisation. With this explanation the
detailed description offered should need no apology. But the courtesy of the
various heads of the departments of Philosophy in Australasian Universities, their
opinions and comments upon the status and development of this subject are
here incorporated. The thanks of the writer are due to these gentlemen for their
ready and whole-hearted response to his request for information.
THE PRESENT STA TUS OF PSYCHOLOGY 41
Among the ranks of "systematic" Psychologists the names of
Ward and Stout among English speaking psychologists are second
only to that of James. Myers, formerly lecturer in experimental
psychology at Cambridge, and now President of the Institute of In
dustrial Psychology, has taken over the psychological investigation
carried out after the War by the Industrial Fatigue Besearch Board.
The work of Spearman and his London laboratory are also widely
known. Lloyd Morgan, Emeritus professor at Bristol, is famous as
one of the pioneers in animal and genetic psychology. In Canada
there is an equally marked development; nearly all the long estab
lished Universities have both chairs in the subject and laboratories.
The Toronto department of Psychology, a particularly noteworthy
example, offers a unified three years course to students in "Arts"
and "Science" which is also obligatory upon medical students in
tending to qualify in psychiatric medicine.
In Germany the establishment of Wundt s laboratory at Leip-
zic was soon imitated by many other Universities. The movement
there has been firmly established upon experimental lines, and
many new developments have taken their rise in the country of
Weber, Fechner Ebbinghaus, Kulpe, Marbe, Meumann, Stumpf,
Ach, Stern, and Lipman. Eussia had her Netschajeff and still
maintains psychological laboratories. Italy has developed in this
line considerably of late. Geneva produced Flournoy, and still
possesses her Claparede. In France, Janet is still continuing his
work on the line of abnormal mentality, while the immortal name of
Binet is her pride.
Psychological developments in the United States, though later
than the German, are no less notable. The works of William James
are almost as fresh to-day as when they were first written. Most
of the English texts of note, e.g., those of Angell, Pillsbury, Titch-
ener and Woodworth, are by American authors. In addition,
Titchener at Cornell has done very much for the experimental side
by the establishment of experimental research and standardisation
of laboratory procedure. Muensterberg did jnuch for general
Psychology r and, in addition, laid the foundations of procedure in
vocational testing, which has been followed up by Scott and Holling-
worth. Cattell at Columbia fathered mental testing, and Wood-
worth as his student has continued the work. Terman standardised
the Binet tests and established them on a sure footing by the "Stan
ford" revision. In the applied psychology of music Seashore has
achieved a unique fame. The chair of James at Harvard is held
to-day by McDougall, from Oxford. The names of Thorndike of
Teachers College, Columbia, and educational psychology are indis-
solubly united; his pioneer work on the learning processes and
42 THE PRESENT STATUS OF PSYCHOLOGY
scales of educational achievement having established that branch
of the science upon a sure foundation, where before all was vague
ness. In addition the army mental tests developed under the Presi
dency of Yerkes now occupying the chair at Yale opened up the
field of mental testing by facilitating methods of procedure.
Such is the status of the work beyond Australia and New
Zealand. In these countries developments have been of exceedingly
slow growth. As an approach towards the teaching of Meta
physics and Ethics a general course in Psychology is given by the
various departments of Philosophy, but in the main, these courses are
given with the general idea of development towards the former sub
jects. One of the first approaches towards the teaching of Psycho
logy as an independent science was made at Victoria University
College. Wellington, under Professor Hunter, whose work under
Titchener has borne fruit in the establishment of a local labora
tory and a regular course of experimental work. At Auckland the
recent appointment of Dr. Fitt as professor of education should re
sult in the development of courses in experimental work. In Tas
mania Dr. Morris Miller as lecturer in Psychology has developed
the work along the lines of the study of mental deficiency Tasmania
leading all the States in such legislation which especially prescribes
the care, education and treatment of "aments." At Teachers College,
Melbourne, lectures in Experimental Psychology have been added to
the curriculum. Dr. Phillips, of Teachers College, Sydney, a former
pupil of Spearman, has fittingly taken up the work of mental test
ing, and already with his assistants has published this year a Sydney
revision of the Binet tests. Professor Muscio, the author of "Indus
trial Psychology," and formerly psychological investigator for the
Industrial Fatigue Research Board, England, now holds the chair
of Philosophy at Sydney ; Associate-Professor Lovell is in charge of
the new department of Psychology. His work has been to organise
and develope the teaching of the subject; his especial interests lie
along the lines of Social and Abnormal Psychology, in the exposition
of which his recent monograph "Dreams" is a first fruit. The
experimental work is mainly in the care of the writer.
II.
In an enquiry into courses, equipment, and staffing of depart
ments of Psychology one naturally turns to the United States for
information. With a singular frankness and courtesy all available
opportunities are afforded the investigator whether native or foreign.
Not only have various analytic studies of the status of Psychology
been published, but the writer has collected certain first hand data
concerning equipment, etc., by means of a questionnaire and per
sonal observation.
THE PRESENT STA TUS OF PSYCHOLO OY 43
In a "Report upon the present status of Psychology," McGeoch*
lists the following branches of psychology as most frequently taught.
This report covers over one hundred institutions.
Subject Total Credit Number of Institutions
General Psychology 482 96
Social Psychology 175 57
Experimental Psychology 326 57
Physiological Psychology 64 16
Educational Psychology 306 51
Animal Behaviour 80 25
Business Psychology 27 9
Genetic Psychology 19 7
Abnormal Psychology 54 16
Psychology -of Religion 24 9
Applied Psychology 45 11
Next to General Psychology, the subject most generally fav
oured appears to be Experimental Psychology, and next Social
Psychology. The greater number of hours in the former would of
course be due to the longer time necessary for laboratory work.
While the need of the former subject is obvious, the demand for
Social Psychology evidently springs from a desire to provide a
psychological approach to Sociology. In the list of applied fields
a general course in Applied Psychology takes high place, while
courses in special applications to Business follow it closely.
Strangely enough to Australians the Psychology of Religion comes
next in importance, following on the recognised need of the Amer
ican clergy for a knowledge of human nature in regard to Religious
problems.
While no single laboratory reported the possession of every
piece of apparatus tested by the inquirer, there is a fair
assortment of apparatus returned which appears to be fairly general.
These include the following:
Brain specimens and Models, Campimeter, Chemicals for
taste and smell -experiments, Chronoscope, Coloured papers,
Colour mixer, Dynamometer, Ergograph, Galton Whistle, Gal
vanometer, Holmgreen Worsteds, Metronome, Plethysmograph,
Projection apparatus and Slides, Resonators, Rotator, Rotating
and Balancing Platform, Stop Watch, Stereoscope and Slides,
Tuning Forks, Vision Testing Apparatus, etc.*
""Colorado College Publications, No. 103, Sept., 1919.
44 THE PRESENT STATUS OF PSYCHOLOGY
This list may be looked upon as a minimum basis of equipment
for a small laboratory devoted to the teaching of Experimental
Psychology. To provide for a number of students, more than one
of some of these pieces would be required, while any particular
laboratory would find it needful to add much additional apparatus
for special experiments designed for a local course.
The growth of psychological laboratories is shown in the return
for the decades from 1880 on, in the increasing number of new ones
established.
Decade Number of Laboratories Established.
1880-1890 3
1890-1900 17
1900-1910 20
1910-1919 . . 22
The writer s own questionnaire refers only to fourteen of the
associated Universities, with which in staffing and numbers of stud
ents, the Universities of Adelaide, Melbourne and Sydney might be
compared, though in many cases they would be somewhat exceeded.
The information is mainly in connection with experimental work,
both in the nature of teaching and research. Only approximate
averages are given.
Number of Graduate Students . . . . . . 13
Number of Graduate Students engaged in Research . . 10
Number of Teaching Staff . . . . . . 10
Hours per week devoted to teaching . . . . . . 2 to 4
Laboratories and Research Rooms . . . . 23
Lecture Rooms . . . . . . (slightly under) 3
Apparatus Grant: $1900; in addition in four cases the services of
a mechanic.
It is evident that the experimental side of Psychology is taken
very seriously. Indeed in almost all the Universities, candidates
for graduate degrees in psychology must offer the results of a piece
of original experimental research as part of the work. Not only
does such investigation sort out those individuals better fitted for
degrees, but it fosters the right attitude of enquiry among those
who are eventually to become teachers of the subject. As a conse
quence psychology is very much alive in the U.S.A. ; most members
of the University and college staffs are keen controversialists, and
many engage in, and further research in their departments. Sim
ilar conditions obtain in German Universities and are gradually
spreading in British Institutions.
On the other hand the facilities in Australia and New Zealand
leave much to be desired. The University of New Zealand has re-
THE PRESENT STATUS OF PSYCHOLOGY 45
cognised Psychology as a subject for the advanced B.A. course, and
B.A. course with honours, as well as for the Science and Commerce
degrees. At the same time the subject also serves as an introduction
to further study in Ethics and Metaphysics. The new courses for
1926 provides for Experimental Psychology or an optional course in
Social and Abnormal Psychology, both for pass and honours. Before
these subjects may be undertaken, much remains to be done both in
regard to staffing and the provision of equipment. The only Uni
versity College so far equipped for such work is Victoria University
College, Wellington. About 60 students out of 120 are taking the
prescribed laboratory course, which covers a general range of ex
perimental work in the subjects of Sensation, Perception, Reaction,
Time, Memory and Attention, etc. Out of ten honours students
eight are taking laboratory courses, while one B.Sc. and one Ph.D.
candidate are each developing a problem in experimental research.
Six rooms, including two dark rooms, with a fair amount of appar
atus are available.
In Tasmania the usual qualifying course introduces the student
either to Psychology or Philosophy. The second year involves some
practical work, also work in the Psychology of Individual Differ
ences. The Department is under the direction of an independent
lecturer, who is also director of the State Psychological Clinic, and
a member of the Mental Deficiency Board.
In all the other Australian Universities, except Sydney, a
course in General Psychology shares with Logic the office of a gen
eral propaedeutic to Philosophy, and is under the control of its
professor. More or less apparatus for lecture demonstration ap
pears to be available, and in some cases further courses in Abnormal
arid Social Psychology are offered by the departments of Philosophy
or of education. In certain Universities lecturers in the department
of Philosophy, some of them part time workers, give courses in Social
and Abnormal Psychology. With the exception of those Univer
sities specifically mentioned above, and the University of Sydney,
no separate recognition is given to Psychology alone, the subject
being treated as a branch of Philosophy.
III.
Until 1910, the teaching of Psychology at Sydney was under
taken by Professor Anderson, of the Department of Philosophy.
Dr. H. Tasman Lovell was then appointed to the department, and
took over the first year courses. By means of a small grant appar
atus was secured from Germany, first for use in the initial course,
and later for use with an elective second year course in Psychology
alone. This second year embraced Abnormal, Social and Experi
mental Psychology. In 1921, the MacCaughey chair of Psychology
46 THE PRESENT STATUS OF PSYCHOLOGY
was established, and Dr. Lovell appointed its first occupant as Asso
ciate Professor. The further appointment of an additional lecturer
made possible the establishment of the present courses.
The work at Sydney now covers a period of three years, and is
intended to provide a conspectus of the general field of Psychology,
so that a student who has passed through the various courses will
be familiar with the main principles, methods, apparatus, and tech
nique of the subject, as a preparation for specific research. The
first course, listed in the calendar as Philosophy I. is also the intro
ductory course to Philosophy, and, in addition, is accepted as a
course in the Faculties of Science and Economics, and as an intro
ductory course for graduate students seeking the Diploma of Edu
cation. The work covers sixty lectures in Psychology and thirty
lectures in Logic.
In all from two hundred and fifty to two hundred and seventy
students attend these lectures, which are repeated as an evening
course in addition to the day lectures. The ground covered is based
on the text of Woodworth, with a treatment of such other aspects as
appear necessary. Throughout the course, especially in the ana
lytical treatment of cognition, feeling and conation, the treatment is
a practical one. Demonstrations are constantly given, and illus
trated by the use of apparatus as is the case with an exposition of
the physical sciences. The class is used as subjects, and approxi
mate quantitative results are tabulated on the blackboard. Such a
method requires not only the use of special laboratory apparatus,
but special demonstrational material as well, both of which sides it
has been our purpose to develope.
Students seeking distinction are required, in addition to the
general course, to do special work for two terms, comprising one
lecture a week, and laboratory work of from two to three hours per
week. The subjects for the laboratory course begin with a series of
problems in learning, e.g. Effects of Simple Practice substitution
of Morse code : Effects of Fatigue tapping and cancellation ; Motor
Learning star tracing; Trial and Error Methods puzzle solution;
Rational Processes solution of problems ; and Association Tests
reference being made to individual differences in these. Students
next pass to a study of the Skin Senses, Vision, including colour and
various aspects of monocular and binocular vision, and Hearing.
Finally some experiments in Memory and Attention are undertaken.
The experiments are written up weekly and handed in for correc
tion and assessment. During the last term laboratory work is not
given, but the distinction class meets weekly for the discussion of
special texts upon which an examination is set in March. In addi
tion students are then required to hand in a thesis on a given theme.
THE PRESENT STATUS OF PSYCHOLOGY 47
All the material for the laboratory course is comparatively inexpen
sive, and, if one may be permitted the colloquialism, "student proof."
Thus our most costly apparatus for this course consists of six disc
tachistoscopes costing thirty shillings each, made locally to an
original design ; they possess the advantages of being comparatively
noiseless, and do not give a double exposure when being set. The
effects of the laboratory course are to be observed in the quality
of the March theses, in that students tend to keep to speculation
based on known facts, instead of offering vague generalities or
groundless hypotheses.
The second year course in Psychology covers two fields, that of
the study of Social and Abnormal phenomena, and the study of indi
vidual differences by means of Mental Tests. In. the former course,
abnormal aspects are used to illustrate general principles, and
such aspects of psycho-analysis are lectured upon as will best illus
trate the dynamic aspects of what might be styled in Bjerre s term
"psycho-synthesis." This part of the course covers sixty lectures.
In addition students are required to write one paper a term for this
part of the course. The work in Mental Tests also covers sixty
hours, half of which are devoted to actual testing work. In the
lectures various phases of the underlying principles of mental tests
are treated, e.g. the arrangement of data and elementary principles
of statastics, the history of their development, and their educational,
industrial and sociological applications. Various forms of single
and collective tests such as cancellation or U.S. Army Alpha are
given by the group method, and in the last term at least ten sub
jects must be examined by every student by means of Koh a Block
tests, and the Stanford Binet, the resrults of these being correlated.
In connection with this class a clinic is held weekly, patients from
the adjoining hospital psychiatric clinic being referred here for
psychological examination as well as other subjects from outside who
may require help along the line of vocational guidance, etc. In the
equipment are included an extensive collection of paper tests, many
of the pieces of test apparatus prescribed in Whipple s Manual, a con
siderable number of form boards and performance tests, and some
original material made to our own designs; Students are expected
to familiarise themselves with the technique of their administration.
A complete record of method of giving tests and their class results,
including in a laboratory note book, is also required. Distinction
students of this year are further required to write a special paper
for March, on a set theme in abnormal or social psychology, or in lieu
of this certain students may elect to undertake a special piece of
research in mental tests. In addition, they are required to sit for
March examination set on specified additional texts.
48 THE PRESENT STATUS OF PSYCHOLOGY
The third year in Psychology is based on an experimental
course, with special quantitative treatment of data. This is really
designed as a course for distinction students who wish to take up
special applications of psychology in a more or less professional
aspect. One lecture per week on history, methods and statistics is
given, and five hours per week are devoted to laboratory work. For
two terms the student works upon special problems from various
texts, or researches not included in these. This year s problems
supplement the laboratory work for distinction in the first year, and
at the same time familiarise the student with forms of special
laboratory apparatus, and their technique. The experiments are
de-signed to be representative rather than exhaustive. When written
up they are prefaced by a history of previous investigations, then
the students records are treated, and finally comparisons and con
clusions are arrived at from all the foregoing. In the last term, a
special piece of experimental resarch must be undertaken by each
student.
For this whole course a general laboratory equipment such as
mentioned above is provided. Some of the original pieces have an
historic value since they were presented to the University by Pro
fessor Netschajeff, who was representing Russian Psychologists at
the Australasian meeting of the British Association in 1914. Others
have been purchased in England, America, or Germany, while many
others have been made locally from original or catalogue designs.
The annual grant is expended partly on the up-keep of old material
and necessary supplies and partly in the purchase of new pieces.
In addition to laboratory work, certain aspects of general Psycho
logy are again taken up in the form of a comparative treatment.
The texts of such representative writers as James, Stout, Titchener,
Ward, Wundt, Watson, and Woodworth are now treated from the
outlook of these writers upon the definition, content and methods of
Psychology as a Science. This work is prepared for March. Dur
ing the current year only two students have been allowed to take the
course, though over twenty have applied, on account of lack of
laboratory supervisors. In addition to the foregoing, the department
is called upon to provide thirty-five hours special lecture and labora
tory instruction in general Psychology and in mental tests, to gradu
ates in medicine who are working for a diploma in Psychiatry. It
is hoped that with a necessary addition to the staff in the shape of
laboratory help, it will be possible in the future to admit a greater
number to the third year in psychology. The present staff of an Asso
ciate Professor and Lecturer is quite unable to do more than cope
with the necessary lectures and supervise a limited amount of labora
tory work.
THE PRESENT STATUS OF PSYCHOLOGY 49
The complete course is designed to afford a minimum of train
ing primarily for those intending to take up Psychology as a pro
fession, as well as for others such as- medical students and teachers
interested in psychological aspects of their work. To those of the
former class the future is full of promise, if one may judge from de
velopments abroad. In industry the psychologist should prove of
immense economic benefit to managements, by developing methods
that will reduce wear and tear of both human and mechanical
material, while on behalf of industrial workers he should be able
to reduce fatigue and nervous strain. This would be accomplished
by studies in fatigue conditions, by the use of mental tests in voca
tional selection, and by the development of motion study methods
and improvements in machine control. In the schools clinical
workers should prove of advantage in selecting and advising in re
gard to retarded and psychopathic types of mentality, elimination
of nervous speech defects, and affording vocational guidance to
pupils about to take up the secondary phase of their education.
IV.
It is hardly possible to postpone for much longer psychological
developments in Australia and New Zealand. As already indicated,
advances have been made or are about to be made, in both these
countries. The recent resolution passed by the second annual
meeting of the A.A.P.P. in Melbourne :
"That this meeting records its strong belief that the status of
Psychology in Australasian Universities should be raised, in par
ticular by the additional provision for teaching and experimental
research,"
indicates that the claims of Psychology to separate recognition have
not escaped the notice of those interested in these matters. Two pos
sibilities of organisation present themselves : The first of these is
along the lines upon which Sydney has developed, i.e. that the new
department shall take over and teach every aspect of Psychology,
i.e., of introductory and later courses in General, Social and Abnor
mal Psychology, General Mental Testing, and Experimental Psycho
logy. This would place a heavy responsibility upon a new depart
ment. The second alternative is that only limited portions of the
science shall be treated by the new department, e.g. especially the
experimental, social and abnormal aspects; and while an introduct
ory course would be administered as at present by departments of
Philosophy, courses in mental tests would be taken in departments
of education. Certainly such an arrangement would divide up the
subject piecemeal from a psychological standpoint, but on the other
hand it is improbable that sufficient money could be found at once
by the several Universities, to establish new departments along the
50 THE PRESENT STATUS OF PSYCHOLOGY
former lines. Again it is improbable that Philosophy would care
to disestablish itself of its claim upon the introductory course in
Psychology, since the metaphysical aspects of the science would in
all likelihood never be treated in a scientific presentation by an inde
pendent department. The concourse of opinion of heads of depart
ments as shown in their communications to the writers is towards
this second line of development, and as their opinions will carry
most weight in any future developments, it is probable that future
chairs or lectureships will be for Experimental Psychology, and in
clusive of Social and Abnormal Psychology. Such being the case,
it is to be hoped that in addition the treatment of General Mental
Testa will be included in the departmental course. To hand this
branch entirely over to Departments of Education would be to lose
control of a very important field, which could never be adequately
covered by an educational approach. Mental tests bear only a par
tial reference to education, and this truth is borne out by the fact
that they were originated and developed by the psychologist rather
than the educationist ; the more important work in vocational test
ing would probably be neglected if such were the case. It is the
opinion of the writer, therefore, that the treatment of general aspects
of mental test work should be retained under the care of the teacher
of Psychology, while its educational aspects might be directly cared
for by the department most concerned with it; and he is aware
of only one important American University where all the work of
mental testing is handed over to education, the others following the
procedure advocated here.
One other question has been raised in connection with new
chairs and lectureships; that is, to what University faculty they
shall be attached ? In most cases the problem will solve itself, since
the lectureships will obviously be attached to departments of Philo
sophy. With regard to professorial chairs, they may be established
as in the case of the foreign institutions in connection with facul
ties of Medicine or of pure Science, in place of Arts. The former
alternative would probably not operate disadvantageous^, since a
more liberal provision for upkeep would probably be made, for Arts
is by no means a "spending" faculty. On the other hand, some
thing would be lost by severing connection with Arts and Philosophy
with which the Psychology necessarily has much in common.
One field of work yet remains for recognition, that of Applied
Psychology, with its special applications to the field of industry and
commerce. It is hoped that at Sydney with the shifting of the respon
sibility of the logic courses in the first year to the department of
Philosophy, it will be possible to institute courses in Business and
Industrial Psychology. The technical contributions of the science
THE PRESENT STATUS OF PSYCHOLOGY 51
along this line have recently been so great and numerous, that an
enlightened commercial community will demand that such instruc
tion be provided for students intending to engage in business pur
suits. It is to be hoped that all psychological departments estab
lished in the future will attempt to develop this side. If any science
is to receive recognition and support, it must justify itself by its
contribution to public welfare as well as by its abstract knowledge.
Psychology has here much to offer, and new departments will develop
in prestige accordingly as this aspect is borne in mind.
Up to the present, with rare exceptions, psychology has been
the step child and Cinderella among University subjects in the Uni
versities of Australia and New Zealand. Abroad this is obviously
not the case. In these countries, however, professional and lay
opinion is swinging about in regard to ita recognition. Within a
few years it is to be hoped that a liberal provision will be made,
both to support the chairs and lectureships that must inevitably be
created, as well as to provide essential equipment for teaching and
research. Many years ago Cattell, the original founder of the de
partment of Psychology in Columbia, wrote : "The nineteenth cen
tury witnessed an extraordinary increase in our knowledge of the
material world, and in our power to make it subservient to our ends ;
the twentieth century will probably witness a corresponding increase
in our knowledge of human nature and in our power to use it for our
welfare." Many of the great discoveries in Psychology yet remain to
be made; many of its fields are mere "backwoods" with immense
potentialities of exploitation. The present is their time of develop
ment. Surely the authorities of our Universities cannot turn aside,
unwilling to share in such splendid possibilities ! While the subject
will develope through controversy and the subsequent systemati-
sation that results from this, many problems can only be solved by
a frankly empirical approach, necessitating laboratories, equipment
and trained research workers.
PSYCHOLOGICAL STUDIES
I. REPRESSION IN "HAMLET."
By Professor L. H. Allen, M.A., Royal Military College, Canberra.
After reading Glutton-Brock s essay on "Hamlet," I turned again
to J. M. Robertson s "The Problem of Hamlet," of which Glutton-Brock s
essay is, in part, an attempted refutation. Mr. Robertson considers
that the character of Hamlet presents irreconcilable inconsistencies
because of the manner in which, he thinks, the play was written.
Shakespeare, working on an older play on the same theme, probably by
Kyd, was forced to keep faith with his public by following the main out
lines of a well known story. In the older play the only obstacle to
Hamlet s revenge was a purely objective one, viz., the care with which
the King kept himself guarded. Shakespeare subtilized the play, and
having removed this rather crude delay of the action, substituted,
particularly in the soliloquies, confused mental hesitations which are
not consistent with the actual course of the story. This theory has
been mentioned, because it brings home the fact that, before we can
begin our estimate of the play, we must decide whether we take the
interior or exterior view. Without giving reasons, I take the interior,
or subjective, view, believing that the psychology of "Hamlet" is con
sistent, and that it is absurd to regard Shakespeare as havirig written
with one eye on the box-office. The knowledge that there was an
earlier play on the subject neither helps nor hinders a critical estimate.
Even if it were found I doubt if it would be of much help. We are jus
tified in examining the play by and for itself, as an artistic unity.
The consistency of Hamlet s character (and the prince is practic
ally the play) will elude complete understanding. It might be said that
its consistency is precisely its inconsistency. Almost anything you
like to say of him is true, for he is human nature in a confusing oscil
lation. That oscillation is the touch of abnormality by which the
psychologist is best able to examine normality. But while anything you
may say will be true, it will riot be wholly true. It is here that Mr.
Robertson errs. He can pick a hole in every theory that has ever
been advanced, from which he concludes that all are wrong. They are,
but .not wholly wrong.
The two most comprehensive views of the problem presented by
the play are those of Goethe and Coleridge. Each reflects the nature of
its author. Goethe s is somewhat milk-and-werthery, that of Coleridge
indicative of his meditative mind. One significant addition has been
made by Bradley. These views are, (I give them shortly), Goethe,
Hamlet the shattered idealist; Coleridge, Hamlet the brain-bound man;
Bradley, Hamlet the victim of psychic shock.
Bradley s view is the bridge to modern psychology. It opens the
subconscious world and tries to understand the causes and symptoms
of his malady.
PSYCHOLOGICAL STUDIES 53
I attempt no more than to polish, a facet of Hamlet s nature. I
have thought that we do not sufficiently recognise the element of re
pression which betrays itself in unreasonable inhibitions and impulses.
He must have been desperately lonely at Elsinore. What drab
associates! Is there a single character that lets in sweetness and
light? Horatio? Ophelia? Let us look at them.
It may have been necessity which made Hamlet seek a frierid in
Horatio, but the picture of Elsinore is even more depressing if it had
riothing better to offer. He is almost as shadowy as "Fidus Achates."
He speaks little else than platitudes. Hamlet s eulogy of him is un
balanced idealism.
Ophelia is a true daughter of Polonius. She learns wisdom from
her father as he learnt it from his by rote. She seems incapable of
originating ari idea. Her weak rebellion against parental despotism,
when she tries to vindicate the character of Hamlet s love for her, is
quickly crushed. Imagine Rosalind as Polonius daughter!
Yet both Horatio and Ophelia are amiable if colourless. The
loyalty of Ophelia to her father indicates the sort of wife she would
have made; and the steadfastness of Horatio s friendship is wholly
admirable. In friend or wife Hamlet asked no more than this. He
wanted livirig endorsements of his soliloquies, not companions.
If there had been no tragic circumstances the position, in this
respect, would have been much the same. It is rash to speculate on
Shakespeare s intention s in any part of his work, but it is tempting to
suggest that in Hamlet he meant to portray, amongst other things,
the loneliness of genius. Shakespeare s contemporaries could not have
completely understood his greatness. He could not have understood it
himself. But it must have disclosed itself to him in fits of alienation
from his kind. Such a mood often interprets itself to its victim as its
contrary. He imagines that the time is out of joint. When first we
see Elsinore it is not alienated from Hamlet, but merely puzzled over
the strange behaviour of one who was really much beloved. Had the
ghost never appeared Elsinore would have jogged on, a little sorry for,
a little amused at, its Inexplicable. After the visit of the ghost it is
not so much Elsinore s view of Hamlet, as Hamlet s of Elsinore that
concerns us. It is such a view as the genius, in his atrabiliar moments,
might take of the world.
With Shakespeare such moods would have been momentary,
because his plays provided him with an outlet for expression. Part of
Hamlet s gloom is due to the lack of such relief. He falls just short
of being a creative mind. The torture of "the little more and how
much it is," is that fruition is in sight, whereas to the duller minds it
is riot. Hamlet is of the Tantalids. He could not have originated a
system of philosophy. His note-book system implies his weakness.
He thought in swift but unorganised epigrams. One cannot picture
that restless scintillating brain settling to the drudgery of developing a
philosophy.
In literature he would have been no more successful. Even as a
54 PSYCHOLOGICAL STUDIES
literary critic lie presents a problem, for though he makes acute obser
vations, it is astonishing that he admires "the rugged Pyrrhus." It
seems inconsistent that a man who could give such excellent advice
to the players should admire such verse. It is obviously a burlesque
of a passage from the "Dido" of Marlowe and Nash. Shakespeare hints
at his intention of ridiculing them by making Hamlet say that there
was "no matter in the phrase that might in dict the autho/ of affection."
Could anything be more affected than
"roasted in wrath and fire
And thus oer-sized with coagulate gore,
With eyes like carbuncles"?
Why should Hamlet admire this picture of a Cyclops run amok?
Because Shakespeare wished us to understand one of the dangers of
the insulated mind, the vice of juperbia the contempt of the ordinary
merely because it is ordinary. This expresses itself in preciosity, the
affecting of what is "caviare to the general": When preciosity aims at
the grand tone, as in "the rugged Pyrrhus," it often produces nothing
better than the primitive colossal.
This explains Hamlet s failure as a poet. I assume, avoiding con
troversy, that he wrote the play within the play. Its language is what
his agile but uncreative mind would have teased out. It is a mortarless
pile of sententiae. The over-compression of his mind is symbolised by
such epigrams as
"For women s fear arid love holds quantity,
In neither aught, or in extremity."
His attempt at an amorous lyric results in doggerel which makes un
necessary his confession that he is "ill at these numbers."
"Doubt thou the stars are fire;
Doubt that the sun doth move;
Doubt truth to be a liar,
But never doubt I love."
How such lines must have jarred on Shakespeare s exquisite lyrical
sense! They were meant to creak because philosophers are not poets.
It also seems extraordinary that the man who disliked seeing a
passion torn to tatters admired the player for his burst of tears. In
reality there could be no better delineation of his mental condition.
It is Hamlet s unwilling confession that at least the player can feel,
that no intellectual bar comes between his soul and its expression;
that therefore this chance-blown visitor is his superior. A crude
emotion expressed is better than a firie one inhibited. This explains
Hamlet s elation at the success of his play. It was not that the King s
guilt had been unmasked. The dumb show alone would have been
sufficient for that. He was sure enough of it in any case, his doubts
about the genuineness of the ghost being merely reluctance to carry
out its injunction, in other words, disguised inhibition. His joy was
the joy of artistic achievement. His ruse had been successful. As a
poet he had found convincing expression. His first exclamation after
Claudius flight is not one of triumph that he is now justified in bring-
PSYCHOLOGICAL STUDIES 55
ing retribution on a murderer, but one of artistic vanity. "Would riot
this get me a fellowship in a cry of players?" It is a self-conscious
author bowing before the footlights.
With regard to his inhibitions he is partly the cause of them.
Without any tragic circumstances his natural reticence would have
marked him out as one to be approached gingerly. When it becomes
morbid through shock he partly justifies the world s attitude towards
him, creating thereby a vicious circle. This appears most evidently iri
his first encounter with Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. He begins with
a charming frankness. The mood develops, and he is on the edge of an
intimate piece, of confidence. It is almost out iri the fine speech begin
ning "I have of late but wherefore I know not lost all my mirth."
It describes nervous depression; intensified to morbidity, arid the
health in him seems here to be struggling to throw it off. A relaxation
of his automatic constriction of mind would have done him good, but at
this moment the "friends" simper their misunderstanding, and drive
him back on himself. Here is a revengeful irony, for he helps to
create the atmosphere he cannot dispel. The same thing lies at the
back of his rejection of Ophelia. When a few straight and heartfelt
words might have altered the course of his life he finds that he is
being spied on, and that she is seemingly a party to it. He shrinks
before the situation and becomes enigmatic.
These a<re reasonable^ inhibitions, being imposed by genuine
causes from without. Nevertheless they are the working of the vicious
circle. It is the unreasonable inhibitions which are his real trouble.
Let one instance suffice. Why should Hamlet refuse to tell Horatio
at once of the supernatural message? Because the ghost would speak
to none but him? A conceivable but unlikely reaso.n. It seems due
rather to hysteria. In such a state the subconscious is apt to master
the conscious. We see this occurring before the appearance of the
ghost when Hamlet descants on the Aristotelian tragic hero with his
"vicious mole of nature." He is obviously expounding himself to him
self, not a normal condition of mind. When Horatio and Marcellus
come upori him after the disappearance of the ghost he is in a state of
repellent levity, a symptom of hysteria. Here we can see the con
scious and subconscious Hamlet in conflict. The former would like to
tell his friends the truth. Why should he not? He intended immediate
action. But the latter automatically forbids it, and, as often, provides
him with an excuse to mollify the conscious Hamlet. They will reveal it.
So he makes a tragic ducdamc of the matter. But his rational mind
could rfever have believed such a thing of the man that he wears in his
heart, which is shown by the fact that later he tells him, since he
says:
"There is a play to-night before the King.
One scene of it comes near the circumstance
Which I have told thee of my father s death."
With regard to unreasonable impulses, one of the most significant
is his conduct at the grave of Ophelia. His envy of the Player repeats
56 PSYCHOLOGICAL STUDIES
itself here in variant form. The impulse behind Hamlet s outburst is
disguised envy of Laertes. The disguise takes the form of contemn
ing Laertes emotion because its utterance is artistically offensive.
Hamlet can ridicule his melodrama with an aesthete s superciliousness,
but the unpalatable truth remains that a shallow man can be sincerer
than a profound one. Laertes can cast every restraint aside, and ex
press himself. Hamlet carinot, and he can only vindicate himself by
ridiculing what in reality he respects. I call this an unreasonable im
pulse, because, though it is a rebellion of the true against the false in
himself, it is a blind one, and results in an act of unreason. Hamlet
afterwards admits its indecency to Horatio, giving as the cause of it
only that which the pride of his conscious mind will recognise:
"The bravery of his grief did put me
into a towering passion"
His explanation to Laertes, that it was madness, is merely contempt for
a commonplace intellect.
In the foregoing I have only sketched the trend of a thought. It
might serve, however, as a reminder that before we talk of inconsis
tencies we must be sure that they exist. Thoughts or actions that
seemin gly conflict are often psychologically consistent.
NOTES AND NEWS.
The Council of the Australasian Association of Psychology arid
Philosophy have elected the following office-bearers for 1925:
President: Professor J. McKellar Stewart, M.A., D.Phil. (Adelaide).
Vice-Presidents: Professors W. Anderson (Auckland), W. R. Boyce
Gibson (Melbourne), T. A. Hunter (Wellington), H. T. Lovell (Sydney),
B. Muscio (Sydney), M. Scott Fletcher (Brisbane).
Editor of Journal : Emeritus Professor F. Anderson.
Hon. General and Business Secretary: Dr. A. H. Martin (Sydney
University) .
Hon. Treasurer: R. G. Watt.
Hon. Counsel: C. M. Collins, B.A., LL.B.
Hon. Auditor: W. Bruce Rainsford, A.I.A.A.
The Third Annual General Meeting of the Association is to take
the form of a short Congress beginning on May 22nd, at Sydney Uni
versity. The Presidential Address will be delivered by the retiring
President, Professor W. R. Boyce Gibsori, M.A., D.Sc., of Melbourne
University. It is expected that other visitors will include Professor
J. A. Gunn (Melbourne), Professor W. Anderson (Auckland), and Dr.
E. Morris Miller (Hobart).
57
RESEARCHES AND REPORTS.
SOME PSYCHOLOGICAL TESTS APPLIED TO ENGINEERING
WORKSHOP APPRENTICES.
By A. H. Martin, B. C. Doig, and R. Simmat, Psychological
Laboratory, Sydney University.
[One of the chief branches of Industrial Psychology is Vocational
Guidance. This attempts to discover the capacities required for different
types of work and to guide young people into occupations for which their
endowments fit them. Investigations have been made to determine voca
tional fitness in a variety of occupations; for instance, in many engineering
processes, in printing, in telegraphic and telephonic work, and in clerical
occupations. The article which follows gives a practical illustration of some
of the methods used in vocational investigation.]
I. INTRODUCTION.
The principles of vocational selection developed from the original
work of P. W. Taylor, the efficiency engineer, who, in 1911, iri his work
on "Industrial Efficiency," published the first account of such an experi
ment. He selected girls for their speed and accuracy in the sorting of
steel ball-bearings and he found that, after selection, thirty-five girls
could do as much in an 1 eight-hour day as one hundred and twenty
working before selection. Professor Miinsterberg, of Harvard, devel
oped this principle of vocational selection on a basis of psychological
tests and embodied his results in his work on "Industrial Efficiency,"
published in 1913. The field of work thus opened up was explored by
many American psychologists, and 1 culminated in the well-known
American "Army Tests." While the war called a halt in investigations
into industrial selection for vocations, it gave a decided impetus to
such military tests as those for aviators, gun-sighters and "submarine
listeners," not only in America, but amorig the European belligerents.
Post-war developments have been rapid; most European countries have
enthusiastically adopted the method. In England, Dr. Myers, late head
of the psychological laboratory at Cambridge, has founded the National
Institute of Industrial Psychology, an organisation" established for the
direct purpose of research into the psychological problems of industry.
In Australia, however, the work has made but little headway, owing to
the absence of facilities for laboratory training of workers. So far as
the writers are aware, one Sydney firm has sent a psychological worker
for training at this University, and is utilising the results of her work,
but in regard to original investigation in this country, this paper is
believed by the writers to be the first.
The work of testing was carried out during the months of Febru
ary and March, 1924, in the worshop of a large engineering firm. The
use of a special room as a laboratory was arrarfged for, and about sixty
appentices were tested. All facilities possible were made available by
the firm, such as the use of direct current for apparatus, etc., and even
the construction of special apparatus not in the possession of the Uni
versity laboratory. The subjects were apprentices falling into four
58 PSYCHOLOGICAL TESTS
groups, numbering from twenty to seven, conditioned by the factors of
their age, length of service and proficiency. The work ranged from
simple shop problems to brass lathe work and work in the tool room.
These divisions complicated the results to some extent, since a homo
geneous group would have rendered the problem a more direct and less
involved one. As a medical inspection for physical fitness was passed
by each subject on admission to apprenticeship, this aspect of the work
was taken for granted, leaving only psycho-physical and psychological
abilities for the work of testing. By a method of "job analysis," the
possible operations Involved in the various departments were covered
so far as it was possible by the different psychological tests involved.
One of the investigators spent some time both in the shops and in con
sultation with one of the research members of the staff, in order that
no detail in this regard might be overlooked.
As a result the following factors were decided on as the essen
tials for satisfactory work:
1. General intelligence; or ability to meet the problems involved
in a general situation with prudence and foresight.
2. Perceptual and motor intelligence, or ability to meet the prob
lems of a concrete or practical situation.
3. Keen powers of judgment involving sensory discrimination.
4. Motor abilities of various types.
The results of these tests were then measured up against the com
bined estimates of a foreman and two sub-foremen, since no objective
rating by means of individual output was possible. The usual rank cor-
relatiori methods were employed. Tests giving a fair positive degree of
correlation with foremen s rating were retained; but if tests showed a
high intercorrelation with each other as well as with foremen s rank
ing, then that one which showed the better correlation in the latter
case was alone retained. The results of the tests thus finally selected
were combined, and this firial ranking was correlated with the fore
men s ranking. In the case of this figure of correlation being high,
they were to be retained as tests that might be considered as diag
nostic of ability in shop work.
II. TESTS AND SCORES.
1. General intelligence was tested by means of the well-known
U.S.A. army alpha group test.* This corisists of eight distinct types
of tests, the individual items of which are arranged in progressive order
of difficulty. The types comprise such forms as "instructions, analo
gies, tests of common sense, simple arithmetic problems, and items of
general information." In the last case many of the items were dis
tinctly local In character, but as conditions were alike for all subjects
this inflicted flo individual penalties, but only involved the attain
ment of a slightly lower general score than would be possible for an
American group.
* Army Mental Tests. Yonkum and Yerkes. Henry Holt and Company.
New York. 1920.
PSYCHOLOGICAL TESTS 59
2. Concrete intelligence involved two tests:
(a) Kob s Block Test:* The problems include a series of pattern
cards arranged in 4 order of progressive difficulty of execution. The
material consists of a set of cubes coloured differently on each face;
two of these being divided diagonally and bicoloured. Time and errors
are involved in the score based on a definite scale worked out by the
originator.
(b) Link s form Board No. III.:t This test is really one of discrimi
nation and assembling. Various pieces are cut out from a thin board
and laid out in a certain order. Some of these pieces involve a certain
possible degree of confusion in the subject s mirid, but they vary suffi
ciently to prevent them from fitting into other than their correct places.
Since the original was not procurable by us in time, a model was
constructed from a catalogue plate, the design being as closely fol
lowed as possible. The score is the time taken, with a certain imposition
for errors, the lowest amount of time thus standing as the highest
score.
3. Sensory Discrimination.
(a) Length For this purpose a Galton Bar was used. This con
sists of a white bar divided by a thin black thread at the middle. A
sliding metal sheath covers each end. One half was exposed with the
standard measurement of 15 cms., and the subject was required to
adjust the other end till a portion 4 equal to the standard was exposed.
Five trials were given with the adjustable end in a position consider
ably less than that of the standard and five from a position considerably
greater. The score was taken as the average error for the ten trials.
(b) Space. A circular ring of wood fibre with an inner diameter
of 15 cms. was turned, and three pin s were driven through until they
projected slightly at the back. When the ring was pushed down on a
sheet of paper on a flat board, the pins held the paper to the board and
marked out a perfect circle. To prevent shadows the ring was bevelled
inwards almost to an edge. The subject was required to indicate the
centre of the circle by a slight cross. Measurement of the amount of
error was effected by an inside ririg which was fitted exactly into the
original. This inside ring was covered by a sheet of celluloid and
marked from the true centre by means of concentric circles scratched
on the celluloid. The circles were blackened by smearing the scratches
with Indian ink, thus readily allowing an estimate of error of centring
to be made. The score was the amount of average error for ten trials.
(c) Bisection of Angles. A circular wooden base was constructed
half of which was covered with white paper. On the outer edge the
degrees were marked on a metal ring recording up to 180 degrees. At
the centre a thin axis or pole projected. The angle exposed could be
varied by a black semi-circular plate which was moved agairist the axis
on the white surface. An angle of any number of degrees might be
* Koto s Intelligence Measurement. New York. The Macmillan Co. 1923.
t Link, Henry C. Employment Psychology. p. 124. New York, The
Macmillan Coy. 1920.
60 PSYCHOLOGICAL TESTS
readily exposed by this means. A thin wire was looped about the
axis and projected over the edge of the plate. The whole edge was then
covered by a black ring, hinged at the back and fitting over the edges,
thus masking the number of degrees, edges of plate, etc., and exposing
only a true sector on white. The subject was required to manipulate
the projecting wire and to bisect the angle of the exposed white sector
by its means. Errors of bisection could be read to half a degree, but
this was not completely satisfactory. An attachment to give a Vernier
reading to tenths of a degree would probably have yielded a finer
grading of results. Five attempts at angles of 60 degrees and five at 120
degrees respectively were made by each subject, the score being the
average error. To make conditions uniform the errors in the division
of 60 degrees were doubled and added to the errors made in bisecting
the angle of 120 degrees.
(d) Touch. A screw tactometer of five inches in diameter giving
minute readings of differences of two adjacent surfaces was constructed.
A metal core was fitted into a cylinder by means of a worm of one-tenth
of an inch per revolution 1 , the base of the inner portion was marked
off into 280 parts, and the outer and upper was provided with an
index pointer. If the screw was moved through o.ne of these micro
meter gradations the difference in the heights of the two surfaces was
thus, 1/2800 of an inch. Half degrees could readily be noted, thus ob
taining final readings in terms of 1/5600 of an inch. Even this minute
adjustment could with advantage have been finer; as in the previous
case, the addition of a Vernier attachment would probably have yielded
better gradings. The score was taken as the average error for ten
adjustments.
(e) Strain. The Smedley dynomometer was used. The grip was
adjusted for the subject, and he was then instructed to squeeze it
gradually till told to "Hold it." After one second he was told to "Re
lease grip." The standard strain was set at 15 kilogrammes. With the
apparatus again at zero the subject was .next asked to repeat the
former strain. The score was takerf as the average error for ten trials,
half kgs. being estimated..
(f) Brightness. A standard tube of Winsor and Newton s Lamp
Black was dissolved in 250 c.cs. of water, and some of this solution
was further weakened to a strength of 1:5000. Sheets of white drawing
paper were treated with successive coats of this solution, varying in
number from one to twelve. A graduated scale, differing widely at the
base but of much closer densities at the higher end was thus obtained.
Subjects were required to grade these cards in order of brightness, the
score being the number and extent of displacements from the true order
in three trials.
4. Tests of motor abilities. In all cases one preliminary practice was
allowed for the purpose of "warmirig up" the subject and familiar
ising him with all the procedure.
(a) Accuracy in Line-drawing. The task was to draw a line with a
very finely pointed pencil between a pair of printed lines on a paper
PSYCHOLOGICAL TESTS 61
without contact with the black edges. Three directions were used, viz.,
horizontal, perpendicular and zig-zags at forty-five degrees. Ten spaces
in each direction were given, their distances varying in each case from
a half-millimetre up to five m.ms. In each group spaces were num
bered with the greatest as 1 to the smallest as 10, and the final score
was taken as the highest total achievement iri the three directions.
(b) Steadiness* The well-known Whipple steadiness test was used,
the subject being required from an elbow rest to thrust a stylus through
a series of nine holes gradually decreasing in diameter without making
contact. The subject proceeded at his own rate. The holes are num
bered with the largest as No. 1 and the smallest as No. 9. The score
was taken as the highest average for three trials.
(c) Tapping.^ The subject was required, with the elbow rested, to
tap with a stylus upon a brass plate. The number of contacts was
counted on a special electric counting apparatus. The score was taken
as the average achievement for three trials of thirty seconds each.
(d) Motor coordination, or three-bole tapping. Three holes standing
as angular points of an equilateral triangle with sides of two inches,
are bored through a brass plate laid upon an insulating bed. The
thrusting stylus just fits the holes and makes an electrical contact
when touching a plate at the base of the bed. The contacts were
counted as in the previous test. The score was taken as the highest
number of contacts of three trials of thirty seconds each.
(e) Assembling M atches. Thirty "safety" matches are laid in starfd-
ard array ori the table within easy reach of the subject. The matches
are at right angles to the table edge at which the subject is sitting.
They are set out in three rows of ten matches each, with a space of
I" between each match and 1" between 1 the rows. The matches are
arranged with the "head" and "clean end" up alternately. The sub
ject is required to pick up each match in succession, starting from orie
corner of the array and working along each row. He had to place each
match with the head showing in a half-open match box. This is held in
the left hand, with the forefinger at the open end. When all the
matches have been placed in the box it is shut by the pressure of the
forefinger. The score given* was the est time for three trials.
(f) Circular Pur suit-meter. $ A plate of wood the size of a phonograph
disc has a small brass disc the size of a shilling inserted half-way along
one radius. Along the edge of the disc are ten alternate brass plates
and ten insulated spaces, each l/20th of the circumference of the disc
in size. All the brass plates are wired to the "spot" previously men
tioned. When the disc is set revolving at 60 turns per minute, 600
electrical make-and-break contacts are made with a small strip of brass
acting as a brush along the edge of the plate. The circuit is com
pleted by means of a stylus touching the bright spot on the surface.
* Whipple Guy Montrose, Manual of Mental and Psychical Tests, p. 153 ffg.
Baltimore, Warwick, and York. 1914.
t Whipple Guy Montrose. Ibid. p. 130 ffg.
J Koerth Wilhelmine. A Pursuit Apparatus. Psychology Monograph".
Vol. I., No. 8. p. 288.
62 PSYCHOLOGICAL TESTS
The stylus is loosely jointed about 1J" from the end, which is turned
downward about J" from, the point. This stylus when touching the
spot during the revolution! of the plate causes the counter to record.
For our work the pointer worked so very loosely that many of our sub
jects would have failed to score. A thin piece of rubber tubing half
an inch in length was therefore stretched about the joint, and pre
vented too great a play of the end-piece at the joint. The score taken
was the best of three trials of thirty seconds each.
The first test administered was the army alpha, which was giveri
to groups of from six to ten subjects, accordingly as they were avail
able, at the hours of 10 a.m. or 2 p.m. As these were the initial tests
they were not so satisfactory in a few cases as the remaining tests;
four of the subjects in different groups appeared to treat the first test
of the alpha group less seriously than was desirable. With one excep
tion this condition was replaced by one of earnestness for the rest of
the individual series. All the other tests were giveri at the same hours
to individual subjects, two being tested at the same time, and four sub
jects being worked through normally in the course of a day. The full
cooperation of the subjects in all these tests seemed to be obtained.
The tests were so arranged in a fixed order of procedure that no test
that might cause muscular or visual fatigue followed others of the
same type. Each succeeded the other in leisurely procedure with ex
planation and trial periods in between; yet a sufficient degree of in
terest seemed to be maintained throughout, so that each subject put
forth his best efforts so far as the experimenters were able to judge.
The final number of complete results obtained from subjects was
forty-nine, the average scores for the whole group being set out, for
each test in Table I. These results should be of interest since many of
the tests are standard types, while the subjects beloriged to a group
ostensibly selected for the abilities that these tests are designed to
measure. The results for all the subjects in each test is as follows:
TABLE I.
Averages in Tests for all Subjects.
Av. S.D.
Army Alpha 85.4 29.65
Koh s Block Design I.Q. .. 107.9 24.81
Link s Form Board III 15.6 4.35
Galton Bar 6.40 3.50
Centring Circle 3.1 1.19
Bisecting Angles 1.29 .80
Tactometer .94 .50
Strain 1-46 .69
Brightness Discrimination .. 1.9 1.27
Line Drawing . . . . . . 8.3 .56
Steadiriess 4-4 1.34
Tapping 191-0 14-0
Three-hole Tapping .. .. 40.0 3.4
PSYCHOLOGICAL TESTS 63
It is possible to make comparisons between our results and the
data of certain of these standardised tests. With regard to the Army
Alpha test the average scores would rank according to American army
standards as "C plus", or as High Average, the American standard
ranging from 75 to 104 points. The same is true of Koh s Block De
sign tests which yield an I.Q. of 107. Data for comparison s with the
tests used by us for sensory discrimination are somewhat meagre;
that for length, however, is close to the percentage of error to be ex
pected according to Weber s law. For some of the tests of motor
ability, however, data are somewhat less meagre. The tapping aver
ages are about what might be expected from ordinary types, but the
results of the Assembling Matches test show a decided superiority in
speed over two groups of University students, numbering 36 and 43
subjects, their average scores being respectively 37.3 and 36.3 seconds.
The results obtained by our subjects in the Pursuit Meter test is much
below that obtained in the original research. There the University
group average a score of 90 contacts for five 20 second periods, two
minutes preliminary practice being allowed. Our own subjects secured
an average score of only 72 contacts for 30 second periods, with, how
ever, but a very short practice period of 30 seconds.
III. THE GROUPS AND THEIR RATINGS.
For purposes of identification the four groups have been num
bered (1), (2), (3), and (4) respectively.
Group (1). Ihis consisted of twenty apprentices engaged in shop
tasks of a miscellaneous character and of varying grades of difficulty.
Since they consisted of the newest comers to the shop their length of
service was inconsiderable, averaging only 7 months.
Group (2). This, numbering 12 subjects, was employed on brass
lathe work. Such a task would appear to require a certain degree of
technical skill rather than intelligence. The average length of service
for this group was approximately 2 years. Group (3). Apprentices
composing this section numbered 7 subjects in all, and were engaged in
"tool room fitting." The work, according to test results, is not one
requiring high intelligence; but the management insist that this group
is a highly skilled and intelligent one. The results of the significant
tests show, however, that the average obtained by this group in Army
Alpha (Table 2) is below that of the first group. This discrediting of
the intelligence factor in this group, which is also borne out in general
b the judgment of a principal of a Technical trainin g school* in Eng
land is, It is only fair to state, challenged by the managerial heads,
who contend that, in their opinion, this type of work calls for a high
* Tagg Mac. "The Make of the Engineering Worker," Journal Inst : Indust :
Psychology, Vol. I., No. 8. 1923.
64 PSYCHOLOGICAL TESTS
degree of intelligence. In such a dispute the only appeal would be to
further practical results of applications of intelligence tests to tool
room fitters. So far as the writers are aware, none such are available.
Group (4). The work of this group of apprentices, 10 in number, is
listed under the heading "millwrights." It consists of con
struction and fitting up of various pieces of machinery. As appears in
Table 2, this group was by far the most efficient, and obtained the high
est rankings of any group in a majority of the tests. The length of
service for subjects in this group averaged 2 years and 4 months.
Achievements of Each Group. In addition to the Avs. and S.D s. for
all the tests, the averages of the significant tests were taken for each
group separately. They are summarised below in Table II., along with
the General Average obtained for all groups, included for the sake of
comparison.
TABLE II.
Group Averages for Significant Tests.
Groups
Gen, Av. I. II. III. IV.
Length of Service .. v . .58yrs 2.03 2.3 4.41yrs.
Army Alpha Test .. 85.4 86.5 77.8 79.6 96.7
Koh s Block Test .. . . 107.9 108.4 101 105.7 116.8
Link s Form Board . . 15.6 15.2 14.5 16.2 17.1
Line Drawing .. .. 8.3 8.2 8.2 8.5 8.3
Assembling Matches . . 33.6 34.1 34.0 34.3 31.9
Touch .. .. .. .94 .95 1.10 1.10 .65
Centring Circle .. .. 3.1 2.98 3.1 3.1 2.95
Bisecting Angle .,. . .. 1.29 1.25 1.4 1.5 1.15
Strain ,,." ,. , .- ., 1.46 1.45 1.6 1.3 1.42
Lengths . ... .. 6.4 6.3 8.0 6.5 4.5
A comparison of the test results according to the average score
for -these groups shows that Group (1) has a higher general achieve
ment in most of the tests over Groups (2) and (3). Group (4) shows on
the whole the highest general achievement. If the tests were, however,
capable of being influenced by general practice, then Groups (2) and
(3) should show a considerable advance ovej Group (1) ; but this is
not the case. The only conclusion that may be arrived at from the
data available appears to be that practice of a general kind does not
affect the results of such specific psychological tests. This deduction
is in line with the contention of Thorridike and others concerning the
effects of general habit and practice upon specific tests, though such
a psychologist as Claparede is opposed to it.
PSYCHOLOGICAL TESTS
65
The results of the averages of each group are shown in the graph
below. The data was obtained by reducing the difference of the aver
age of each group from the general average into terms of the general
Standard Deviation, according to the formula:
Geri. Av. Group Av. Position of Group in
S.D. of GeneraT~Av" terms of + or S.D.
(Graph showing deviations of Averages of each Group from
the General Averages).
+SD
A ,
The work of grading the various groups according to ability was
carried out by the foreman and two sub-foremen of each group. Except
for the formulation of the written instructions and a general descrip
tion of the method to be employed, this phase of the work was carried
out by the workshop heads themselves. The name of each individual
in the group was typed on uniform slips of paper and then arranged in
alphabetical order accompanied by written instructions. These instruc
tions required an estimate of their skill, of the general capacity of the
subjects in regard to their output, of workmanship and of ability to
follow and interpret instructions and plans, "without reference to con
siderations of character and behaviour." The judgments showed a high
66 PSYCHOLOGICAL TESTS
degree of consistency in the case of two groups, viz., (1) and (3). In
the case of Group (4) it was impossible to assess the subjects on this
basis since no one foreman could estimate all the cases. The results
were therefore arrived at from a consideration of the rankings supplied
to the investigators. In the case of Group (2) the ranking was not so
consistent as in the cases of (1) and (3), as appears from the Table
which shows the Correlations of Rating of all but Group (4):
TABLE IV.
Group Judges
1. & 11. 1. & 111. 11. & 111. 1. & Av. 11. & Av. 111. & Av.
(1) .; .93 .92 .88 .98 .96 .94
(2) .. .89 .89 .74 .94 .94 .85
(3) .. .93 .96 .94 1.00 .93 .96
IV. CORRELATION RESULTS.
General. Not only did the nature of the groups differ, but the actual
workshop tasks within each group differed as between individuals.
This might actually influence some of the foremeri s judgments since
there is a possibility that certain individuals would find themselves well
adjusted to simple types of work, whereas others of higher capacity
employed on more difficult tasks may have given less satisfaction.
Again, temperamental differences would tend to affect the ranking of
the foremen, since of two individuals equal in capacity the more oblig
ing and eager type would be rated higher than the other whose traits in
this respect were less pronounced. On the whole, however, the test
ratings showed a fair degree of correlation with the foremen s rankings.
The usual Pearson rank formula was used throughout. The working
out of a very large number of correlations was necessary, for not only
had the tests to be correlated with the foremeri s average, but also
inter-collerated with one another. Finally the results of each collection
of significant tests were combined and averaged, and from these was
obtairied the final order for correlation with the foremen s rankings.
Group (1). The results of the correlations of significant tests are
shown in Table V. The results of the final arrangements of the com
bined tests yielded a correlation of .70 with foremen s ranking for this
group. Two individual cases showed marked divergence in the tests
from the foremen s rating. If, however, the lowest 25% of individuals
were excluded ori either ranking, then only one of these individuals
would be ruled out by the tests. Other members of the group showed
close agreement between test results and foremen s ratings.
PSYCHOLOGICAL TESTS 67
TABLE V.
Correlations of Significant Tests and Foremen s Ranking for Group (1)
Strain Touch Angles Circles A. Alpha Av. Test
Ranking
Foremen s Ranking . . .36 .60 .55 .70 .41 .70
Test Average .. .46 .62 .63 .86 .66
Army Alpha 12 .02 .46 .38
Centring Circles . . .32 .65 .42
Angle Bisection . . .22 .04
Touch Discrimination .18
Group (2). Apparently the work demanded of this group was not one
requiring great intelligence or even keen sensory judgment. The sig
nificant tests are those of motor skill, coordination and dexterity above
all other traits, and comprise Three-hole Tapping and Assembling
Matches, while the Koh s Block test indicates an application of prac
tical intelligence in a moderate degree in place of general intelligence.
The final correlation of combined average ranking in the tests yielded
a result of .74 with foremen s ranking. The results of the correlation s
are shown in Table VI. One subject marked by his sub-foreman as
seventh, was given a similar position according to the tests. The
rankings of the other foremen placed him first. In none of the tests
did this subject rank above low average. This disagreement consider
ably reduced the correlation which was, however, fairly high.
TABLE VI.
Correlations of Significant Tests and Foremen s Ranking for Group (2)
Koh s Block Assembling Three-hole Av. Test
Test Matches Tapping Rankirig
Foremen s Ranking . . .24 .29 .36 .74
Av. Test Ranking .. .47 .20 .30
Three-hole Tappin g . . -.07 -.38
Assembling Matches . . .02
Group (3). Consisting of seven apprentices the results of this group
gave an almost perfect final correlation" of .96. Intelligence appears
not to be an important factor in tool-room fitting, but sensory judg
ments and strain, with a certain motor-coordination implied in the
Assembling Matches are the required traits. The results are shown in
Table VII.
TABLE VII.
Correlations of Significant Tests and Foremen s Ranking for Group (3)
Assembling Strain Galton Bar Av. Test
Matches Lengths Ranking
Foremen s Ranking . . .73 .75 .66 .96
Av. Test Ranking .. .75 .64 .80
Galton Bar Lerigths . . .38 .40
Strain .52
68 PSYCHOLOGICAL TESTS
Group (4). This group showed a higher degree of intelligence of
both types than any other group, but this fact did not appear to be a
significant differentiating factor in the tests. Possibly the differences
were too small to affect the correlations. Again, the lack of possibility
of complete ranking by every judge gave too coarse a grouping for the
small differences irf intelligence to affect it. Three tests gave high
correlation with the grouping, but their irftercorrelations were so high
as to lead to the conclusion that they were all measuring the same
trait. Since they confirm the findings of other groups they are each
given in the table below. Their combined ranking actually reduces the
correlation rather than increases it. It would therefore be best to take
the centring of Circles as the most significant test for this group.
TABLE VIII.
Correlations of Significant Tests and Foremen s Ranking for Group (4)
Accuracy Lengths Centring Av. Test
(Line-Drawing) (Galton Bar) Circles Ranking
Foremen s Ranking . . .70 .66 .71 .66
Av. Test Ranking .. .90 .95 .93
Centring Circles . . .81 .79
Lerigths Galton Bar .. .85
V. CONCLUSIONS.
In considering final values of the tests the first factor to be borne
in mind is that they should be diagnostic of all phases of shop work,
since apprentices are required to familiarise themselves with all
aspects. Not only the tests that proved themselves of value in the
first group are of importance, but the tests that proved diagnostic in
every other group as well. Some of the significant tests indeed are
found to be iricluded in more than one group, e.g., Centring Circles and
Bisection of Lengths, etc. One factor, that of intelligence, appears to
be of small value in diagnosis according to these results, but it is to
be borrie in mind that these apprentices were originally selected on a
written examination in the "three R s". This would terid to confine
the factor of intelligence to small differences, since the lower types
would be excluded by failure in the written examination while the
higher end of the curve would hardly be represented in this occupation;
the main requisite for this type of work would therefore appear to be
motor skill and sensory discrimiriation rather than intelligence. At the
same time, in the case of original selection of subjects for apprentice
ship, It would be necessary to exclude individuals who fall too far
below the average score of the group.
In the following table the results of the various significant tests
correlated with the corresponding foremen s ranking are shown. Those
which are shown bracketed had to be excluded ori account of high
intercorrelations; but as in many cases they tended to confirm the
values obtained in other cases they are also included in the table.
PSYCHOLOGICAL TESTS 69
TABLE IX.
Correlations of Diagnostic Tests for each Group with Foremen s
Rankings.
Name of Test Group (1) Group (2) Group (3) Group (4)
Army Alpha 41 (.24)
Koh s Block Test .. .23
Link s Form Board . .
Judgment of Lengths . .66 (.66)
Centring Circles .. .70 .71
Bisection of Angles . . .55
Tactometer . . . . (.60)
Judgment of Strain . . (.36) .75
Accuracy Line-drawing (.66) (.70)
Three-hole Tapping - .36
Assembling Matches . .29 .73
Pursuit Meter
Grading Greys . .
V. SUMMARY OF CONCLUSIONS.
1. In comparison with the practical rankings of the foremen who
knew the subjects well, certain tests seem to be of specific value in
estimating ability among apprentices in engineering workshops of the
kind indicated in this research. If applied beforehand they would thus
be of direct diagnostic value in selecting subjects for this vocation.
2. The various representative traits demanded appear to be:
(a) Intelligence, (b) motor skill, (c) dexterity and coordination both
general and practical, and (d) keen powers of sensory discrimination
in regard to spatial forms and kinaesthesia, and care in making the
.necessary adjustments.
3. The various representative tests, the majority of which all
except three might be administered as group tests are as follows:
(a) A test of General Intelligence, (b) A test of Practical Intelligence,
(c) Motor tests, e.g., Three-hole Tapping, Assembling Matches, (d)
Sensory Judgments, e.g., Judgments of Lengths, Bisection of Angles,
and Judgment of Strain.
70
REVIEWS.
STUDIES IN CONTEMPORARY EDUCATION. By A. Mackie and P.
Cole. Sydney Teachers College Press, and Angus and Robertson.
Pp. 153. Sydney, 1924.
Like the latest book by Professor Adams this work seeks to make
its readers acquainted with the latest developments in educational
thought and practice. It affords striking evidence of the strides
education is making arid of the manner in which Australian workers
are keeping abreast of this advance.
Professor Mackie, who divides his half into Studies in Educational
Theory, and Studies in Experimental Education, rightly begins with a
consideration of the work of the educator. While Pestalozzi and his
followers would use Development, and Spencer would use Complete
Livirig, Professor Mackie favours the Elements of Welfare to express
his aim. His analysis bears a close resemblance to that of Spencer,
but he gives a new treatment to the elements, a new emphasis to
Social Feeling, and a new value to Leisure.
"The mark of a civilised man is the use he makes of leisure." Is
it not also true that the mark of a civilised State is the amount of
leisure which all of its members enjoy? True is it likewise that our
notions of leisure are traditional arid do not contemplate the working
classes enjoying it. Professor Mackie shows how far the school can
go to meet the new demands. Psych o-Analy sis is of value to the
teacher, but he does not consider that every teacher is capable of be
coming a psycho-analyst.
The studies in Experimental Education form the most important
part of the work. Here are the answers to the questioris which the
practical teacher brings forward: Why do we need tests other than
school tests? How can school tests be standardised? What are the
so-called Tests of Intelligence, and what exactly do they test? Here
are also some of the problems connected with these tests. Professor
Mackie is strong on three points: (1) We need a set of tests standard
ised for Australian children; (2) The workers iri this field should be
co-ordinated; (3) There should be a school or schools for research in
each State.
In the first section of his half, Dr. Cole discusses the steps of pro
cedure which a class teacher should follow. Illustrations are given
from Geography and from History. All this is suggestive, and sug
gestive too is the discussion on the place of reason in teaching history.
In his second section, Dr. Cole gives glimpses into institutions,
conditions, and advances in other lands in which Australia lags behind.
Many readers will wish he had given more than glimpses. Toronto,
with a population of 500,000, spends 1,800,000, Boston with 1,000,000,
sperids 3,000,040, New York, with 6,000,000 spends over 20,000,000,
on education yearly. But then Toronto now has full-time education
for all pupils up to 16 years of age, and continuation education for all
between 16 and 18, and New York has compulsory day continuation
REVIEWS 71
classes for all boys between 14 arid 17. We should like to know the
amount spent on the extra education beyond 14, and the amount spent
on buildings, and o.n salaries. There are glimpses into an American
City school system, the size of classes, certain salaries; but glimpses
only. There are other glimpses into the Training of Teachers in Scot
land, Vacation Playgrounds in Winnipeg, the great Lincoln School in
New York, the working of the Dalton Plan. If Dr. Cole s aim was to
whet the appetite of his readers, he has certainly succeeded.
John Smyth.
INTRODUCTION TO MODERN PHILOSOPHY. By C. E. M. Joad.
Oxford University Press. 1924. Pp. 112. Illustrated. 2/6.
This little book is the first of a series of introductory volumes,
written so as to appeal both to the specialist and the general reader.
Mr. Joad divides his work into five chapters, on Modern Realism,
Russell, Croce and Gentile, Pragmatism, and Bergson. Each contains
a clear and closely reasoned statement of the philosophic creed in
question, followed by a brief criticism. The writer plainly regards
Realism as of chief interest among current tendencies, and though
critical of the views he discusses, he is in the main sympathetic to this
one. It is, therefore, remarkable that he devotes no space whatever to
Alexarider, whom most Oxford philosophers (and Mr. Joad hails from
Balliol) regard as the leading Realist. The reason is that Alexander
has moved beyond the point where epistemological quarrels about the
status of sense-percepts seem of the first importance, while Mr. Joad s
manner of approach shows that he takes this issue to be fundamental.
He, like the American authors of "The New Realism," is still prepared
to meet Hegel with the general type of argument that would suffice to
demolish Berkeley.
This is symptomatic of a neglect of Absolute Idealism shown by the
whole book. It is concerned only with developments subsequent to the
publication of "Appearance and Reality," and we are left to conclude
that the school represented by that work has since produced nothing
of importance that, for instance, its critical rejoinders to Realism,
Pragmatism, and the Philosophy of Change are negligible. It may be
true that they are, philosophically. But historically they are not, and
since Mr. Joad s role is primarily the chronicler s, his omission is
misleading.
He ignores, too, the modern re-interpretations of Kant. Kemp-
Smith is not mentioned and the chapter on Pragmatism contains rio
reference to Vaihinger. Mr. Joad seems hypnotised by that word
"modern." He mentions Hegel, because Hegel was a butt for realists
and pragmatists. But he attempts no sort of explanation! of the his
torical roots of contemporary speculation, and he omits also the inter
esting question of its national or cultural origins. All this makes his
book seem more a series of separate essays on selected "systems" than
an Introduction* to Modern Philosophy, and in the space of a hundred
pages he cannot treat these with any depth. One passage is sympto-
72 REVIEWS
matic of his attitude. After referring to the issue between Hegel and
Croce, he says, "For those who do not accept the presuppositions of
Idealism the points at issue will seem abstract and meaningless enough.
It is important, therefore, that the reader should make up his mind at
the outset on the merits of the controversy between Realists and Ideal
ists, before deciding in favour of one or another of the various branches
of Idealism offered by Modern Philosophy." Note the implications.
"Philosophy" means a number of mutually unrelated theories of
reality, presented to the plain mari for his choice. Choose one, you
reject and can ignore others. It may be that the attitude of the party
politician befits the student of philosophy. And again, it may not. It
seems a pity that Mr. Joad, interpreting the thought of this age to the
layman, should have assumed the point and written his "Introduction"
accordingly.
S. C. Lazarus.
IMMORTALITY. A series of nine essays by different writers, edited
by Sir James Marchant, LL.D., with an introduction by Lord Ernie.
G. P. Putnam s Sons, London and New York. Pp. xii + 194. April,
1924. Price 7/6. (Our copy from Angus arid Robertson).
Here are nine independent views of a mystery and a problem which
has challenged the mind of man for thousands of years. First come
four sketches of ancient conceptions of immortality, or rather groups
of conceptions, for in the life and thought of each of the four peoples
there is a coriflict or a blending of different instincts and ideas, a suc
cession or a fusion of conceptions rather than an evolution of one clear
conception. Sir Flinders Petrie writes on Egyptian conceptions of im
mortality; Mr. Cornford of Cambridge on Greek views; Prof. Macdonell,
of Oxford, ori immortality in Indian thought; and Prof. Welch, of
Edinburgh, on Hebrew and Apocalyptic conceptions. Roman thought
is not represented in this survey, except for an incidental glimpse in a
survey of the world s poets. The law and order of this world s life were
Rome s peculiar occupation and achievement. Its religion was a cori-
secration of the secular rather than a contemplation of the eternal.
When it woke to the problem of the future life, it turned to Greek philo
sophy and Oriental mysticism for an answer to its questions.
The central place in the series is given to the Christiari idea of
immortality, which is unfolded in its basis, its contents and its impli
cations, in an amazingly satisfactory manner for an essay of twenty
pages, by our own Prof. Mclntyre, of Sydney. Theri follow four studies
of the problem from the various points of view of modern thought. Dr.
Galloway, of St. Andrews, analyses the philosophical grounds of the
belief; Dr. Eucken, of Jena, its ethical basis; Canon Barnes, of West
minster, D.Sc. and F.R.S., now Bishop of Birmingham, in the most
masterly essay of the series, deals with the general question 1 of science
and immortality; and Maurice Hewlett, novelist and literary critic, in
a breathless flight from Homer to Dante, and from Shakespeare to
Tennyson, traces the idea of immortality in the poets.
REVIEWS 73
The Christian idea comes in its right place in the series. It is the
climax and the crown of old-world faiths and philosophies the an swer
to their questionings, the confirmation of their guesses, the sublima
tion of their ideas. In contrast to their kaleidoscopic syncretism it has
a convincing unity of its own. There is a promise of that unity already
in the evolution of the Hebrew idea of immortality. Lord Ernie re
marks in his preface that "the belief in immortality rests ultimately on
the truth of the belief in the government of the Universe by one
supreme, moral and spiritual Being." That remark needs one import
ant addition "and in the conscious relation of the soul of man to
that Being." It would then serve as an admirable summary of the
history of the Hebrew faith in the future life. The Christian idea goes
far beyond, but along the same lirie. That idea is based not merely on
the teaching of Christ, but on the union* of the Christian with Christ,
in one mystical Body. Immortality thus becomes a fellowship as well
as a life, a social as well as a spiritual destiny. The New Testament
leaves some questions still open, e.g., the question of "conditional"
or more accurately "potential" immortality, on which Prof. Macintyre
offers some arguments that are arresting, even if not conclusive. On
this and other questions we reach the margin of mystery into which
all revelation shades off. Dr. Storr in his "Christianity and Immor
tality" speaks wisely of the "magnificently strong" reserve of Chris
tianity about just those very points "where," he quotes Dr. Salmond,
"the conjectures of men have been least restrained and of smallest
profit for the practical conduct of life." The position of the essay on
the Christian idea of immortality is not only historically, but also logic
ally right. The name of Christ is rarely mentioned in the philosophical,
ethical, scientific and poetical studies which follow. By a fine self-
restraint the last four essayists keep strictly to their subject. But it is
impossible to read their essays without feeling that the particular
idea of human personality which is the keynote of their treatment of
the subject is the result of centuries of Christian thought.
These essays are all inevitably arid deliberately condensations
which it would be difficult and perhaps unfair to discuss in detail,
even if space permitted. It must suffice here to say that taken together
they are an extraordinarily valuable survey of the history and the
grounds and contents of the belief in immortality. Lord Ernie, in
whom we scarcely recognise at first our old friend, R. E. Prothero, the
author of "The Psalms in Human 1 Life," says in his preface that "the
prevalence and persistence of the belief are striking facts in the mental
history of mankind," but "nothing more." Our Australian "Bulletin"
in one of its deeper moments has spoken highly of these essays, but
only to close o.n a wistfully fairft note: "So it ends that we come out
by the door we went in, our doubts not dissipated, the veil not lifted,
but still perhaps clinging to the larger hope." Lord Ernie himself,
despite the judgment just quoted, sees something more of relief for
doubt in these essays. "No cogent proof can be offered either of the
truth or of the falsity of the hope in immortality. But the central point
on which the essays converge is that it is riot only a possible truth, but
74 REVIEWS
the object of a reasonable faith such as that on which men act in all
practical affairs, and the most adequate interpretation of the ethical
and spiritual values of the life of mankind." That central point stands
out clearest perhaps in Canon Barnes essay. Resolutely puttin g aside
for his task s sake the Christian faith that he holds and teaches, he
works out step by step the ultimate implications of a rational world
such as all science must postulate or recognise; and he finds at work in
that world a creative process which with the entry of human person
ality stands revealed as "the product of a Divine Mind workirig to
wards definite ends, bringing into existence beings who can begin to
think His thoughts and understand His values." In those thoughts
and values, objective, spiritual, eternal, lies the proof and pledge of
the immortality of the human spirit that finds itself in recognising
their reality.
Lewis B. Radford (Bishop of Goulburn).
THEORIES OF MEMORY. By Beatrice Edgell, M.A., Ph.D. Clarendon
Press, 1924. Pp. 169. Price 7/6.
"To try and hit an object with a vague thought is like trying to
hit the bull s eye with a lump of putty," says Bertrand Russell. From
this charge it is to be feared a fairly large number of so-called "psycho
logists" at the present day can hardly be exonerated! Terms such as
"memory" and "imagination," taken over from every-day and applied
to certain psychic functions and processes, are, not infrequently, re
garded as of self-evident meaning, requiring little or no analysis. Upon
this uncritical basis are built up theories (in regard, for instance, to the
nature of the so-called "unconscious,") which as factual descriptions
or even as conceptual hypotheses are certainly little more than theoret
ical "lumps of putty." But amid the outpouring of such vague theoris-
ings, the last decade has seen a growing stream of more carefully
critical thought. The process of clarifying psychological thought
should be helped considerably, along one line and that one of central
importance, by the publication 1 of Miss Beatrice Edgell s little book,
"Theories of Memory." For the most part it consists of a critical ex
position of the theories of others, writers influenced by biological con
ceptions, and certain modern philosophers ranging from Hobbes to
Bergson.
Perhaps the most interesting chapter in the book is that which
deals with the conception of memory iri the philosophy of M. Bergson,
and compares it with that of Samuel Butler. The final section is "the
writer s attempt to work out the memory problem from the standpoint
of a psychology wherein the conceptions of process, function, structure,
growth, decay, organisation, and development have their place," and
of that problem the central issue is, perhaps, that of the riature of the
memory-image.
JO URNALS EEC El VED 75
Negatively, Miss Edgell maintains that "the memory-image is not
given as a sense-impression is given, and it is not the persisting ves
tige of the sense-impression." The possibility of a right conception
of the nature of the memory-image hangs upon the recognition of "a
persistence and continuity of function which belo.ngs only to cognitive
processes, and belongs only to these in virtue of the relations into
which they have beeri brought by conative effort." "When conation
has linked sense-perception with sense-perception in the fulfilment of
its endeavour, when they have entered as parts into the furtherance or
frustration of striving, and thereby have come into organic connexion
with one another, the occurrence of one sense-perception will require
the other as its complement. If the one be "given," in the sense that
the function of perceiving is sustained by sense impressions, the unity
of the whole will occasion the cognition of the others, and that cog
nition will be sustained by imagery .... The imagery does the
work of sense-impressions, and is an event in mental life just as a
sense impression is an event." Following upon the position adopted,
Miss Edgell examines the questions of knowledge of the past and
introspection, belief, trains of ideas, and the unconscious.
While one may not feel that the problem of memory in its various
aspects is brought appreciably nearer satisfactory solution, iri all cases
the treatment is interesting and suggestive, and Miss Edgell herself is
far from claiming any finality for the positions adopted. Her essay, as
she says, "only purports to be a discussion of theories." But as such
it must indeed make for a more critical analysis of psychological con
ceptions, of which "Memory" is certainly orie of the most important,
and for the replacement, by something more appropriate, of some of
our many theoretical "lumps of putty."
D. M. Rivett.
JOURNALS RECEIVED.
THE JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY. Edited by Professors Woodbridge
and Bush, Columbia University. Published fortnightly: four
dollars per arinum.
Vol. XXI. No. 21. Oct. 9, 1924. Experience, Mind and the Concept:
H. N. Wieman. Things Perceived but not Existent: C. A. Strong.
Things Perceived and Things Perceiving: W. P. Montague. No. 22.
Oct. 23. On Pairi and Dreams: E. A. Singer, Jr. Fastness and Tran
scendence: A. O. Lovejoy. No. 23. Nov. 6. The Scale of Aesthetic
Values: C. E. Whitmore. A Further Note on Subalternation and the
Disputed Syllogistic Moods: H. B. Smith. No. 24. Nov. 20. The
Idea of Continuity in the History of Psychology: A. A. Jascalevich.
No. 25. Dec. 4. Purpose and Mechanism in Psychology: E. R. Guthrle.
Economics and Ethics: R. G. Tugwell. No. 26. Dec. 18. The Imme
diate Apprehension of God according to Win. James arid W. E. Hocking:
J. H. Leuba.
76 JOURNALS RECEIVED
PSYCHE. Edited by C. K. Ogden. Published quarterly. Kegan Paul,
Trench, Trubner & Co. London.
Vol. V. No. 2. Oct. 1924. Price 5/-. Editorial. Materialism, Past
and Present: Bertrand Russell. The Value of Rhythmic Movement:
E. Jaques-Dalcroze. The Problem of the Terror Dream: G. H. Green.
Knowledge and Feeling: L. A. Reid. An Interpretation of Trans
migration: A. K. Sharma. A Vindication of Symbiosis: H. Reinheimer.
Dr. Watson s First Codicil: A. More. Educable Capacity: F. Watts.
Foreign Intelligence and Reviews.
THE INTERNATIONAL JOURNAL OF PSYCHO-ANALYSIS. Directed
by S. Freud : edited by E. Jones Bailliere, Tindall and Cox. London.
Vol. IV., Part 3, July 1923. Perversiorf and Neurosis: Otto Rank.
The Nature of Autosuggestion: E. Jones. The Spider as a Dream
Symbol: K. Abraham. Physics in Dream Symbolism: C. Odier. A
Literary Portrayal of Ambivalency: G. H. Green. Some Notes on
Smoking: R. C. McWatters. "A Modern Prometheus."
Vol. V. Part 4. Oct. 1924. The Passing of the CEdipus Complex:
Sigmund Freud. Telepathy and Psycho- Analysis: E. Hitschmann.
Psych o-Analysis of the Unconscious Serise of Guilt: T. Reik. On the
Genesis and Dynamics of Inventor s Delusion: A. Kielholz. Letters of
the Alphabet in Psycho-Analytic Formations: K. A. Menninger.
ARCHIVES OF PSYCHOLOGY. Edited by Ed. Claparede. Kundig:
Geneva.
Vols. XVII arid XVIII. (1*919-1923). Vol. XIX. No. 74. Sept. 1924.
La Loi du developpement mental: H. Heinis. Contribution 1 a 1 etude de
1 ergographie bilate>ale et simultanee: F. Rimathe. Etude techno-
psychologiques, le remplissage des cornets de cafe": L. Walther. Note
sur la localisation du moi: Ed. Claparede.
REPORT OF LECTURE CONFERENCE (Nineteenth) for Works
Directors, Managers, Foremen and Forewomen, held at Balliol
College, Oxford, Sept. 25-29, 1924. Yorkshire Printing Works.
York.
Contains lectures by Sir A. Lowes-Dickinson, C. Delisle Burns, Sir
Henry Fowler, C. H. Northcott, L. P. Jacks and others.
THE MEDICAL JOURNAL OF AUSTRALIA. Sydney. Published
weekly, I/-.
No. 6, Feb. 7, 1925, contains an article, "Observations (Mainly
Psychological) on the Concept of Mental Deficiency," by E. Morris
Millar, M.A., Litt.D.
THE LEGAL JOURNAL. Sydney, N.S.W. Published monthly. 10/6
per arinum.
Che flustraiasian Association of Psychology and Philosophy.
LOCAL BRANCHES.
It was early recognised that certain factors, chief among which
might be the size of the Association and the wide distribution of its
members throughout Australia and New Zealand, would make it
extremely difficult for all members to meet together to hear lectures,
or for an y. other purpose. In consequence, and in view of the import
ance of discussion in the social sciences, the formation of "Local
Branches" of the Association was allowed for in the Association s
constitution.
Clause 12 of the "Articles of Association" of the Association is as
follows :
"The members of the Association in any given locality shall have
the right, upon payment of a special local subscription or otherwise,
as they may themselves determine, to call themselves a local branch
of the Association, and to hold such meetings as they think fit. Pro
vided, however, that the Association shall not be liable for any under
taking of such local branch, or for any debts it may contract for
any reason whatsoever."
The formation of "local branches" of the Association, it will be
noted, is entirely dependent upon the wish of the members in! any
given locality. No authority from the Council of the Association is
required to form a local branch. And a local branch may conduct its
activities in any way it wishes, subject to the provision in the last part
of clause 12, quoted above. Thus, a given local branch might limit itself
to discussion s of papers occurring in the Association s Journal; or it
might arrange for certain lectures; and so on.
The "Sydney Local Branch" of the Association meets twice
a term at the University, to hear and discuss papers. It
has adopted a simple constitution, the main points of which are as
follows: Its Council consists of a President, two Vice-Presidents, ari
Horiorary Secretary-Treasurer, two Assistant Secretary-Treasurers, and
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Local branches may, however, adopt any constitution that they
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The value of local branches will consist partly in the fact that
they bring together members of the Association, and thus provide
opportunities for discussion; but they should also help to strengthen
the Association, and this is highly important if The Australasian
Journal of Psychology and Philosophy is to be permanently established.
Any further information may be obtained from the officers of the
Association.
flusiralasiatt Association of Psychology and Philosophy
(WITH WHICH IS AFFILIATED THE MELBOURNE UNIVERSITY
PHILOSOPHICAL SOCIETY.)
The Association exists for the purpose of promoting the study of
Psychology, Philosophy, and Social Science.
Its Journal, which is called The Australasian Journal of Py schology
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The Journal is edited by Emeritus Professor Francis Anderson,
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Membership of this Association is not restricted to University
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Vol. 111. JUNE. 1925. No. 2
be.Hu$trala$ian Journal
OF
Psychology * Philosophy
Edited by FRANCIS ANDERSON, M.A.,
Emeritus Professor of Philosophy in the University of Sydney
With the co-operation of
W. ANDERSON, M.A. (Auckland) H. T. LOVELL, M.A., PH.D. (Sydney)
F. W. DUNLOP, M.A., PH.D. (Otaf>o) J. P. LOWSON, M.A., M.D. (Brisbane)
M. SCOTT FLETCHER, M.A., B. Lmr. (Br) A. H. MAJITIN, M.A., PH.D. (Sydney)
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W. R. BOYCE GIBSON, M.A., D.Sc. (Melb.W. MITCHELL, M.A., D.Sc. (Adelaide)
J. A. GUNN, MA., B.Sc., PH.D. (Melb.) B. Muscio, M.A. (Sydney)
T. A. HUNTER, M.A., M.Sc. (Wellington) C. F. SALMOND, M.A. (Canterbury)
S. C. LAZARUS, M.A., D.PHIL. (Melb.) J. McK. STEWART, M.A., D.PHIL. (Adel)
CONTENTS
The Foundations of Peace. By F. A. W. Gisborne.
Problems of Spiritual Experience. (4) Freedom and Evil. By
Professor W. R. Boyce Gibson, M.A., D.Sc.
The Machine and the Worker. By S. Wyatt, M.Sc.
Behaviour in the Light of Modern Biological Research. By
R. Simmat, B.A.
The Basis of Morality. (2) By Professor J. McKellar Stewart,
M.A., D.Phil.
Discussion: Dr. Haldane s Religion. By Professor Bernard
Muscio, M.A.
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existence of God.
Other Monographs in preparation
ClK Australasian Journal of Psychology and Philosophy.
VOL III. JUNE. 1923 No. L
THE FOUNDATIONS OF PEACE.
By F. A. W. Gisborne, Hobart, Tasmania.
LITTLE more than six years ago the world emerged, bleeding
and exhausted, from a struggle which, directly or indirectly, caused
the destruction of more than twenty million human lives and spread
desolation over some of the fairest and most populous regions of
Europe. The repercussions, both political and economic, of that
tremendous eruption of national passions, and clash of opposing
interests and ambitions, still disturb the tranquillity of many coun
tries far removed from those which were the battlefields of the con
tending armies, and which suffered most acutely from the scourge
of war. Never before in the world s troubled history has so much
havoc been wrought within so brief a space of time. And in con
sequence never before have the minds of all thinking men been
more occupied with the task of devising means by which the recur
rence of such horrors may be prevented.
Optimists up to the fateful year 1914 confidently assured us
that war between highly civilised nations had become impossible.
Financial restraints, the advance of civilisation, the spread of cul
ture, the ramifications of commerce, and the assumed growth of a
feeling of fellowship among all the world s races, they declared, abso
lutely precluded the possibility of any future resort to arms. Other
authorities based their hopes on the pacifying influences of uni
versal education and the triumph of popular institutions. But all
those assurances and confident anticipations of a coming age of peace
were falsified by events. The vaunted resources of civilization failed
in the hour of supreme trial. The Tree of Life of old Norse myth
ology, though adorned with the brilliant flowers of culture, once
more produced in abounding measure the bitter fruits of strife.
It will be admitted by all that no real preventive of war can be
devised until the true causes of war are recognised; and the sugges
tion may be hazarded that hitherto these have been either ignored
or imperfectly appreciated both by idealists and statesmen. The
indisputable fact that, in spite of all the material and intellectual
progress made by the great nations of the world during the last cen
tury, war in one form or another has been almost chronic during
that period shows in itself that those improved social conditions
which are usually implied by the vague term civilization cannot, in
78 THE FOUNDATIONS OF PEACE
themselves, ensure the preservation of peace. The arts of destruc
tion, indeed, have fully kept pace with those of construction, and
the mental and physical energies of mankind during the last half
century particularly have been largely occupied with the direful task
of inventing new instruments for wholesale slaughter. In his use
ful little handbook, "Wars and Treaties," Mr. Arthur Ponsonby has
supplied us with brief details of no fewer than forty serious wars,
either civil or international, which occurred between Waterloo and
the date of the outbreak of the late gigantic conflagration ; and the
list, formidable as it is, does not include the numerous minor con
flicts that broke out within the same space of time between colon
ising Powers like Great Britain and France, and the barbarous or
semi-civilized tribes scattered along the frontiers of their Asiatic or
African dominions. Nor does it embrace two frightful contempor
ary insurrections in China which have been declared on good author
ity to have been accompanied by a mortality as heavy as that caused
by all the wars raged in Europe during the nineteenth century. And
he would be credulous indeed who could believe that the last "war
to end wars," (a seductive phrase less frequently heard now than
some years ago, even in political circles), has succeeded in achieving
its ascribed purpose.
Some causes of war which operated frequently in past times
have fortunately disappeared, or become practically innocuous.
With the extinction of absolute monarchy what were formerly called
"dynastic" wars have been abolished. The caprice, vanity or mad
ness of a single despot can no longer involve millions in sanguinary
strife. Religious wars on a great scale, too, happily for mankind,
seem unlikely to recur. The age of the Crusades is past, and we may
at least hope that the flames of Islamite fanaticism expired at
Omdurman. Yet even among the most cultured communities there
lingers a sp-ark of the martial spirit of primitive religion. In
struggles between Christian nations it is still the practice for each
combatant to claim with confidence the exclusive favour of the God
of Battles.
Wars may be roughly classified as wars of passion and wars of
policy. While those belonging to the former group seem to be be
coming fewer with the decay of religious and racial fanaticism, and
the spread of intellectual enlightenment, the number of wars delib
erately planned and undertaken for the promotion of national
objects shows no immediate signs of diminution, rather the reverse.
War," declared a German writer in the "Vorwarts" some years
ago, "is rooted in the opposing interests of the nations as are revo
lutions in the opposing interests of the classes." The generalisation
is correct as far as it goes, though manifestly it does not go far
THE FOUNDATIONS OF PEACE 79
enough. In revolutions, class and political passions 1 and physical
necessities supply the driving force; in wars between nations the
impulse comes, partly from inherent racial antipathies, but more
from the desire on the part of the aggressor to obtain by force what
it believes to be necessary for its safety or prosperity. Passion
plays a far greater part in civil than in international struggles, and
the former, therefore, are invariably characterized by a greater de
gree of ferocity than the latter. Wars prompted by motives of policy
usually arise from conflicting colonial aspirations, land hunger,
commercial rivalries and disputed claims to maritime supremacy.
"Dying nations," as the late Lord Salisbury once remarked, are par
ticularly dangerous factors in causing inter-national friction. Not
unfrequently expectant beneficiaries come to blows over their death
beds. Persia, India, China, Spain, and other more or less decadent
countries have at various times illustrated the disturbing influences
exercised by opulence allied to senility or decreptitude. "Trade"
wars have, in the past, been particularly numerous. To insular and
over-populated countries like Great Britain and Japan commercial
interests are vital, for their inhabitants must sell their surplus
manufactured goods abroad in order to buy food and raw materials
needed to sustain the multitudes at home. Long ago, Lord Chatham
uttered timely words of warning to his countrymen on this 1 subject.
"When trade is at stake," he declared, "it is your last entrenchment;
you must defend it or perish." And, referreing to sea power, the
eminent German economist, Friedrich List, picturesquely described
a nation without ships as "a bird without wings." Tariffs are always
in a greater or less degree provocative. To give but a single in
stance, Colbert s fiscal measures in 1667 were directly responsible
for the outbreak of war between France and Holland five years
later. More than two thousand years ago the interdependent ques
tions of commercial and maritime supremacy provoked the pro
longed death struggle between Rome and Carthage. The establish
ment of universal free trade and freedom of the seas iwould undoubt
edly do much, not indeed to eliminate the primary causes of strife,
but to remove those that are secondary.
The remedies, or preventives, usually advocated for the miti
gation or abolition of war may now receive brief notice. Some are
obviously fantastic. Tolstoy s panacea of non-resistance, for ex
ample, hardly deserves serious consideration. As things are, it would
mean national suicide to the people foolish enough to adopt it. The
ethics of primitive Christianity cannot safely be applied to State
policy without rational modification. To turn ones cheek to the
smiter and bestow one s possessions on the robber would only encour-
80 THE FOUNDATIONS OF PEACE
age thieves and bullies. The fellow-countrymen of the Russian
idealist during the last few years have only too convincingly demon
strated the folly of his doctrine.
The advocates of general and complete disarmament for the
prevention of war apparently overlook the fact that such a course of
action, even were it feasible, would place civilization at the mercy
of savagery. But a moment s consideration will show that uni
versal disarmament is impossible. Great nations cannot be kept un
der constant surveillance, and weapons of some kind will always be
within the reach of those who wish to use them. Moreover, since
the most deadly of modern instruments of warfare are now manu
factured in chemical factories, the products of which are essential to
many necessary industries, it is clear that every country possessing
such factories will always have at its command the means of
spreading wholesale destruction. That, within certain fixed limits,
international compacts such as that embodied in the Covenant of
the League of Nations may have the useful effect of removing the
minor causes of war, allaying suspicion, and diminishing friction
may readily be admitted. But all such compacts are open to the
weighty objection that their usefulness depends entirely on the ob
servance by all the parties to them of the most scrupulous good faith.
It is not enough for the signatories to be men of honour. They must
have notions of honour behind them. Otherwise they give the per
fidious nation most dangerous advantages over those that are honest.
Dr. L. P. Jacks in his suggestive little collection of essays entitled
"Realities and Shams," has emphasised another weak point in inter
national arbitration. "The validity of an international compact,"
he writes, "obviously assumes that each and all of the contracting
governments have sufficient authority in their own houses to ensure
the adhesion of their nationals to the engagaments made. Of
how many existing governments can it be said that they possess this
power ?" And, one may also ask, what likelihood is there that under
takings, no matter how solemnly given, by a small group of poli
ticians, or diplomats, in the name of a nation to-day will be re
garded as sacred by their successors ten or twenty years hence?
Those who possess some knowledge of human nature, especially of
political human nature, will be very sceptical indeed on this point.
And the repudiation of engagements made under one set of con
ditions may be essential to the prosperity, or even existence, of a
nation when conditions have undergone a complete change. Finally,
no nation can, or will, consent to submit to arbitration any question
involving national life or death. The instinct of self-preservation dis
regards all treaty obligations, and at the last resort every high-
spirited people will prefer war to martyrdom or degradation.
THE FOUNDATIONS OF PEACE 81
A single historical example may be cited in support of the
statement that no reliance can be placed on international agreements
for the limitation of armaments. In 1807, by the introduction of
the short service system into the Prussian Army, Scharnhorst com
pletely eluded the provision in the treaty made shortly before with
France under which Prussia was forbidden to maintain an army
exceeding in number 42,000 men. In consequence, six years later,
on the renewal of hostilities between the two countries, Prussia was
able to place over 200,000 thoroughly trained and well-equipped men
in the field. And it is significant that, outside France, the artifice
so successfully practised evoked admiration rather than censure.
There are many well-meaning persons who rely on popular
education, anti-war propaganda, and moral and religious teaching
to abolish war. But they assume a sudden and miraculous trans
formation of human nature. The resources of oratory, alas, have
more often been used to arouse than to subdue the stormy passions
which impel strife. The advent of the peace-maker predicted by an
ancient poet still seems far off :
"Ille super Gangem, super exauditus et Indos
Implebit terras voce, et furialia bella
Fulmine compescet linguae."
Even the eloquence of Cicero failed to form such a task. In oratory
we find more often the thunder of passion than the illumination of
reason. Only one of the world s great religions, Buddhism, has exer
cised a consistently peaceful influence over mankind. Two of the
others for centuries marched through slaughter to spiritual domina
tion. Popular conceptions of the power of education to promote
peace are altogether extravagant. The fundamental fact is usually
overlooked that the teacher can but draw out and develop the inher
ent capabilities of the pupil. He cannot, however skilful and earnest
he may be, create faculties and aptitudes which Nature has not
planted in the scholar s mind. No schoolmaster, by the exercise of
some kind of pedagogic magic, can transform the boy cursed with pre
datory or ferocious instincts into a model of juvenile virtues. Rather,
in many cases it is to be feared, by arming the depraved child with
knowledge, the teacher makes him a more potent instrument of
future injury to the community than he would otherwise have been.
Without, indeed, affirming that burglars and Bolsheviks are the
necessary products of the elementary school it may be suggested that
the evidence which supports the view that to the modern system
of compulsory universal education, a system which favours the de
velopment of the mental rather than the moral capabilities of the
children, must largely be attributed the increasing number of ac
complished scoundrels who now prey on society, or strive to over-
82 THE FOUNDATIONS OF PEACE
throw it, is difficult to refute.* Private crime differs from national
crime only in degree: consequently each additional law-breaker in
a country helps to strengthen the anti-social spirit which favours
war. Another point deserves notice. The indiscriminate inter
mingling of children of sound characters with those whose moral
qualities are defective inevitably encourages the spread of moral
disease, just as the close association of healthy persons 1 with others
suffering from infectious or contagious maladies increases the rav
ages of physical disease. Moral lepers, young or old, should be
segregated. To good natures knowledge is wholesome food; to bad
ones it may be poison. The exclusion of all moral as well as mental
degenerates from our schools, and their special treatment in separ
ate institutions, would do much to check the progress of certain evil
social and political tendencies which are now only too noticeable,
and indirectly assist towards maintaining both domestic and foreign
tranquillity.
The grounds for the widespread but utterly delusive belief that
certain political changes, if introduced everywhere, would ensure
the preservation of peace require but brief examination. Universal
democratic government, some enthusiasts assure us, would mean
universal harmony. As a matter of fact, although representative
institutions of some kind now prevail in all save two insignificant
Asiatic countries, concord among the nations is still far from com
plete. Those who are so much inclined to denounce monarchies
and aristocracies as essentially warlike forget that the world has
owed some of its happiest and most tranquil periods, such as the : age
of Augustus and that of the Antonines, to despotic rule. Of aris
tocratic governments it may be said without hesitation that their
guiding principle is prudence, a virtue which is essentially pacific.
The assertion that democracies have always been peace-loving is
entirely unsupported by historical evidence. History, in fact, shows
that, under certain conditions, and driven by similar internal or
external impulses, all governments, irrespective of form, have from
time to time been compelled to engage in war ; and democratic gov
ernments being most sensitive to popular emotions are, perhaps, the
most bellicose of all. Indeed, the frequent popular elections, and
the continual struggle between parties and classes, which charac
terize democracy wherever it has triumphed, tend in themselves to
keep alive the war spirit. And the checks it imposes on outbreaks
of popular passion are nugatory, since the relation of the democratic
ruler to the turbulent masses is merely that of the boat to the wave.
* The report of the special committee appointed by the General Assembly of
the Presbyterian Church in Victoria about two yearsr ago to investigate the causes
of crime laid stress on the defects of the State educational system.
THE FOUNDATIONS OF PEACE 83
A survey of history does not support the view that in past times
democracies have been less inclined to make war than monarchies.
The ancient Greek city republics waged incessant wars with one
another. Rome, ere the foundation of the Empire, was engaged for
centuries in a chronic struggle for supremacy with the neighbouring
Italian States. The birth of the French republic was immediately
followed by the most devastating series of wars Europe had seen
since the close of the Middle Ages ; and even the United States, in
spite of the advantages of geographical isolation and ample scope
for peaceful expansion in a vast and almost empty continent, has
been engaged within a period of less than a century and a quarter
in wars with Great Britain, Spain, Mexico, and Germany; and in
the course of the stupendous civil conflict which raged between the
years 1861 and 1865 barely escaped disruption. Neither has un
broken peace reigned in Mexico and among the republics of Central
and South America since those communities freed themselves from
the iron despotism of Spain. It is true, certainly, that each of the
republics of San Marino and Andorra has studiously refrained
from a policy of armed aggression. But pygmies have sound reasons
for refraining from attacking giants, and lions do not prey on mice.
Switzerland, a state of composite nationality, is practically the only
example of a modern republic whose policy may be described as
having been consistently peaceful for a long period (as mercenaries,
nevertheless, Swiss soldiers have played a distinguished part in
many European wars), and this is to be ascribed chiefly to geo
graphical and ethnic reasons.
The most important of the direct and immediate causes of war
have now been glanced at, and an attempt has been made to show
that all the remedies hitherto devised to check their operation have
failed, and must continue to fail, to effect their purpose. Let us now
investigate the root causes of war. These, briefly summarised,
seem to be over-population and mental and moral degeneracy. The
first needs no explanation. Obviously, vast and increasing masses
of human beings pent up in a comparatively small territory must
sooner or later, by force if necessary, invade neighbouring countries
where means of subsistence can be obtained. With them it is liter
ally a question of fight or starve, conquer or die. As regards the
second, it is not of course suggested that every nation which be-
coves involved in war contravenes the moral code. In many cases
examples are too familiar to need quotation a nation takes up
arms under irresistible moral compulsion. In a few, it may even
be said that each of the combatants may claim some degree of
moral justification. But unquestionably evil passions, such as those
of racial or religious hatred, ambition, greed, jealousy or the de-
84 THE FOUNDATIONS OF PEACE
sire for revenge, are responsible for many violent collisions between
nations. Good influences sometimes become perverted and either
sow or hasten the germination of dragons teeth. Religion is a foun
tain which pours forth bitter waters as well as sweet. Patriotism
is apt to ferment into megalomania. Honour, even, may "find quar
rel in a straw." So long as passion disturbs the human mind and
from time to time dominates reason strife between individuals,
classes and nations will continue. So long as one hundred human
beings struggle to live on a portion of the earth s surface capable of
maintaining in comfort only fifty there will be armed aggression.
So long as boys fight in public schools and men in public houses,
there will be war. Moral diseases, unhappily, are as infectious as
physical. A nation which, infuriated by some real or fancied wrong,
contracts >what is commonly called the "war fever" becomes morally
plague-stricken. It suffers from the resurgence of those primitive
instincts which, in bygone days, prompted the frenzy of the berserker
and the blood-lust of the priest of Baal.
The abolition of war, then, requires firstly, the elimination of
the fiercer passions from the human mind by the combined agencies
of eugenics and moral education; and, secondly, the scientific and
selective regulation of human increase in such a way as to prevent
any country from suffering hereafter the miseries of over-population
and famine. In a world where only the physically, mentally, and
morally superior were permitted to become parents, and where the
population of each country was carefully adjusted to its means of
supporting life in comfort and happiness, the wish long ago ex
pressed in the immortal Greek epic would at last be fulfilled:
"0 ! that from gods and men might perish strife
And wrath which stirs to madness e en the wise."
It is significant, by the way, that Homer should have placed
those words in the mouth of the greatest of the warriors whose ex
ploits he celebrated. And it is a truism to-day that the strongest
detestation of war is to be found among those who have taken an
active part in it.
All intelligent persons must agree that racial improvement
makes for peace. Great differences of opinion, however, exist as to
the best methods for bringing such improvement about. In political
circles particularly there is a tendency, much deplored by biologists,
to rely mainly, if not solely, on so-called humanitarian methods
such as the bestowal of grants and endowments on the less capable
members of the community, the free provision of hospitals, orphan
ages, and other charitable institutions, and the improvement of
housing conditions. Judicious measures taken both by the State
and by private individuals and associations for effecting beneficial
THE FOUNDATIONS OF PEACE 85
changes in the environment of the people are certainly to be com
mended. But in the light of recent scientific investigations it were
a pernicious error to regard external conditions as all-important.
Heredity is the seed; environment only the soil. Long before the
science of heredity was heard of, this fact was perceived. In such
familiar Latin quotations as "Ebrii gignunt ebrios," "fortes creantur
fortibus et bonis," the truth of the transmission of qualities from
parents to offspring was recognised. Even the most illiterate stock
breeder is aware that heredity dominates environment. He does
not try to transform a carthorse into a racehorse by the simple
method of keeping it in a fine stable and giving it plenty of oats.
Such treatment, indeed, would probably encourage it to kick the
cart into fragments. And yet, with slight modifications, many of
our political and other reformers apply this process to the improve
ment of their own species.
In his striking work, "The Revolt against Civilization," Mr.
Lothrop Stoddard has lately delivered an impressive warning
against the dangers of racial degeneracy which now confront all
of the world s most highly civilized communities. Mr. Harold
Cox s illuminating study of a similar subject entitled : "The Pro
blem of Population," and the researches of numerous well-known
biologists in England, America, and elsewhere all lead to the pain
ful conclusion that at the present time the superior human stocks
are rapidly becoming swamped by the inferior. Of the mass of
evidence collected by writers of the class particularly referred to
only two or three typical examples need be selected. In an article
headed, "The Feeble-minded," written by Dr. A. F. Tredgold, which
appeared in the "Contemporary Review," June, 1910, a summary
was given of the results of the investigations during a term of four
years of the English Commission on the Care of the Feeble-minded.
These brought to light several most sinister facts. It was found
that, to quote the writer just mentioned, "the birth rate in England
is declining, but the decline is not general but selective, being con
fined to the best and most fit elements of the community, while
loafers, incompetents, the insane and the feeble-minded continue to
breed with unabated vigour." In one work-house alone 16 feeble
minded women had produced 116 children, and while careful in
quiries showed the average number of children in mentally degen
erate families to be 7.3, that of the whole population was only 4.63.
Twenty per cent, of the criminals in English prisons were found to
be of weak intellect; and since feeble-mindedness is usually associ
ated with emotionalism, liability to outbreaks of passion, and en
tire lack of self-control, it follows that the greater the proportion
of weak-minded persons in the population of a country, the greater
86 THE FOUNDATIONS OF PEACE
the danger of those outbursts of popular fury which often lead to
war. Mr. Cox quotes official figures showing that out of 2,425,000
men who were medically examined in Great Britain in the year
ending 1st November, 1918, only 36 per cent, were classed among
those who had attained "the full normal standard of health and
strength," while 10 per cent, were described as "totally and perman
ently unfit for any form of military service/ As illustrating the
relative rates of increase prevailing among various social classes,
Dr. Stevenson, the Superintendent of Statistics at the General Reg
ister Office, supplied the First National Birth Bate Commission
with figures showing that in the year 1911 the number of births
per 1000 married males under the age of 55 was 119 among the
upper and middle classes, while among unskilled workmen it was
213. In the United States matters seem to be yet worse. A distin
guished American biologist, Davenport, quoted by Mr. Stoddart,
calculates that, according to present tendencies, 1000 Harvard
graduates living to-day will only have 50 descendants two centuries
hence; whereas an equal number of illiterate Rumanian immigrants,
if their present rate of increase be maintained, will have no fewer
than 100,000 descendants at the termination of the same period.
Investigations conducted by Professor Cartell, showed that among
440 married American men of science with completed families, the
average number of children in each family was 1 but 1.88, about 12
per cent, of whom died before marriage. The ominous results of
the intelligence tests applied a few years ago to the American Army
are familiar to all interested in the subject; and since a low de
gree of intelligence usually implies a high degree of combativeness,
the widespread mental degeneracy they revealed is scarcely encour
aging to the lover of peace. Unhappily the application on a lim
ited scale of similar tests to various classes of the population in
Great Britain has given very similar results.
All available evidence seems to show that, largely through the
efforts of multitudes of political and philanthropic husbandmen, the
human tares are fast choking the wheat. The jungle is rapidly en
croaching on the cultivated fields. Humanitarian laws for many
years past have been filling our gaols, hospitals and asylums. Pro-
creativeness has been encouraged among the inferior types, and dis
couraged among the superior. The worthy and the competent have
been overloaded with taxes for the benefit of physical, mental, and
moral weaklings; and the law, expressly for the purpose of stimu
lating fecundity without discrimination, has allotted to the idle, in
capable, and unintelligent worker, the same amount of remuner
ation as that besowed on his far more efficient and deserving com
rade. Quantity has been considered ; quality ignored. And many
THE FOUNDATIONS OF PEACE 87
benevolent and entirely sincere persons, while preaching peace and
human brotherhood, have at the same time been scattering pro-
fusedly the seeds of future wars.
It is, however, in a measure consoling to perceive signs that the
danger to which civilization is exposed by the inordinate increase of
human beings of a comparatively inferior type, and the concurrent
diminution of the numbers of superior men and women, is now
generally recognized in educated circles. People afflicted with
hereditary maladies are beginning to understand that the gift of
life may be a curse as well as a blessing, and to listen to the appeal
of the unborn. Unhappily, though, there are many who, for reasons
of excessive delicacy, refrain from preaching what they wisely prac
tise. Consequently, where restraints are most needed, they are not
applied. While the enlightened and the conscientious recognize
their duty to posterity, the ignorant, the improvident and the irre
sponsible continue to increase the sum of the world s miseries, and
to provide fuel for future conflagrations. These people are the real
makers of wars. To save civilized society from a universal relapse
into barbarism such as Eussia has lately suffered through the too
successful uprising of the country s baser human elements, and to
ensure for coming generations the enjoyment of their natural birth
right of physical, mental and moral soundness and capacity for
happiness, it is essential that the State should check the devastating
procreative activities of those who are unfit to be parents, teach
and if necessary enforce the observance of the sacred responsibili
ties of parenthood, and impress on the minds even of the most frivo
lous and thoughtless a recognition of the truth that it may be a far
deeper sin to create life than to destroy it.
Two processes are included in a complete eugenic policy, one
positive, the other negative. The former aims at the increase of
superior human stocks; the latter at the elimination of the inferior.
Obviously the last mentioned task must be undertaken first; and
since the selection and segregation, or sterilisation, of deficients
can only be carried out under sanction of law, State action is indis
pensable. Educative measures and the force of an enlightened pub
lic opinion would probably suffice to ensure afterwards the intelli
gent application of eugenic principles in their positive sense. And
no really enlightened society would permit that unlimited increase
of its members which would inevitably lead to its own destruction.
Any discussion of the legislative and administrative methods by
which the weeding out of the undersirables might be accomplished
at the least cost in suffering to the class whose existence was a men
ace to the public welfare lies outside the scope of this paper. Un
doubtedly the work of purifying society by the gradual removal of
88 THE FOUNDATIONS OF PEACE
all its noxious elements would demand the exercise of supreme abil
ity, and entail on the whole community very heavy sacrifices. But
one important question deserves brief notice. Is any State where
democratic institutions prevail likely to adopt, and pursue con
tinuously, a policy tending towards racial betterment? Can we
expect a modern democratic government based on universal suffrage
to devise and carry out measures which very large numbers of un
informed or prejudiced people would denounce as cruel and unjust
invasions of personal liberty, and which, it is to be feared, would
only be unreservedly supported by a small minority of the electors?
This seems too much to be expected. For democracy means
and, so long as present conditions continue, must mean the political
supremacy of the lower over the higher intelligence. It is the
direct negation of the principle that the superior mind should com
mand, and the inferior obey. Political equality, unless indeed
we regard character and intellect as counting for nothing in the
conduct of public affairs, connotes moral and intellectual equality;
but such equality never has existed, nor is likely ever to exist. Un
der the alternating, capricious tyranny of majorities 1 , classes and
parties no country can hope to enjoy real peace and the content
ment which is essential to happiness. Neither can it pursue a set
tled line of policy of any kind. The counsels of Ulysses may pre
vail to-day; those of Thersites to-morrow. Parliamentary majori
ties reflect the whims rather than the will of the people ; and what
is known as "crowd infection," originating usually in the invention
of some attractive catchword, decides the results of most popular
elections. Democracy is far more prolific in deluders than in lead
ers. Of what use would it be for a wise government one year to
collect and segregate all the imbeciles in a country when the next, in
a paroxysm of sentimentality, the electors might insist on their lib
eration? Opportunism and instability have always been the bane
of popular governments and their want of strength and consistency
of purpose, and, it must be added, their tendency to elevate from
time to time to positions of momentary authority men endowed with
supple minds and persuasive tongues, but, in their public capaci
ties, entirely devoid of principle, render them incapable of steadily
pursuing great objects. Only governments that are wise, strong,
and stable can successfully carry out great schemes for the ultimate
good of humanity.
It would seem, then, that before effective measures for the pre
vention of war by the removal of its root causes can be taken the
age of democracy must pass away. Demos must share the fate of
the Pharaohs and Caesars of antiquity. In all civilised countries
methods of government and social organization will have to be de-
THE FOUNDATIONS OF PEACE 89
vised which will ensure, so far as possible, that power shall only be
entrusted to worthy hands, and, a matter of equal importance, shall
remain in those hands. There are many nowadays who regard
democracy with a kind of superstitious awe, and consider those
who condemn it as almost guilty of sacrilege. But democracy, after
all, as Sir Henry Maine and other political thinkers have pointed
out, is only a form of government, arid as such is open to free exam
ination and criticism. If proved by experience to have failed as an
instrument for the wise regulation of human affairs it is open also
to condemnation. Political as well as religious superstitions are
mortal. A late Archbishop of York, Dr. Magee, once aptly re
minded us that King Demos is attended, not only by courtiers, but
also by court chaplains; and some of his stoutest supporters may be
found among the latter. The modern devotee of democracy, whether
cleric or layman, might reflect, however, that three centuries ago,
even in the most cultured circles, there was as strong a belief in
witchcraft as there is now in the virtues of government by Parlia
ments elected by popular majorities. And perhaps here and there
even in this age may be found an irreverent sceptic who doubts
whether the inhabitants of a country are happier and more prosper
ous when their laws are made and unmade by congregations of
ephemeral, political chatterboxes than they would be were the con
trol of their affairs entrusted to a small permanent council com
posed of statesmen fitted both mentally and morally for the exercise
of sovereign powers. At all events that incessant class war which is
inseparable from the working of popular representative government
must end before the era of peace begins.
The crying need of the world to-day is that of great men.
Little men are always vain, peevish and quarrelsome. The truth con
tained in Napoleon s saying: "The men are nothing; the man is
everything/ applies as much to times of peace as to those of war.
But as it is manifestly impossible for any society to obtain and re
tain permanently the services of an autocrat possessed of tran
scendent virtues and abilities to manage its affairs it would seem
that the best hope for the future lies in the triumph of that aristo
cratic principle which conforms most closely to natural law and the
real needs of mankind. The regeneration of the human race, and
the maintenance of concord among its many families, demand the
sole exercise of ruling functions by the true aristocracy, in other
words, by those who possess in the largest measure the essential en
dowments of wisdom, knowledge, courage and virtue. A govern
ment so constituted would take the measures necessary to eliminate
human waste, and to prevent the excessive increase of population,
recognising that the greatness of a nation depends, not on the
90 THE FOUNDATIONS OF PEACE
quantity, but on the quality of its citizens. For international agree
ments for the limitation of armaments it would substitute agree
ments for the limitation of families. Its laws would be inspired by
a philanthropy so enlightened as to seek the lasting good of the
race instead of the gratification of the passing desires of the indi
vidual; by an insight so true as to perceive that human happiness
depends more on mental and moral than on material conditions ; by
a humanity so elevated as to recognize,, not only the right to live,
but also, in the case of each sufferer from incurable physical, mental
or moral disease, the right to die; by a compassion so tender that
it would no longer allow the unhappy progeny of the vicious and the
diseased to transmit to their innocent descendants, in ever-growing
measure, the curse of inherited affliction. Under a rule so wise and
benign the stormy passions and the dire physical necessities which
now impel nation against nation would gradually disappear. The
belief that life must be a continual struggle, that good can only
arise from ill, and that happiness must be bought with suffering, a
belief well expressed in the mournful line of an old Greek tragic
poet :
"Sing a dirge ! singe a dirge ; but let right prevail,"
would at last be refuted ; and, cured of its former sad delusions, the
world would tardily appreciate the full significance of the teachings
of that ancient Hebrew philosopher who extolled the virtues of wis
dom, and told mankind in words of imperishable truth and beauty
that "her ways are ways of pleasantness,, and all her paths are
peace."
NOTE. The objection may be raised that were the most highly civilised
countries to adopt measures with a view to the prevention of the excessive
increase of their inhabi tants, they would expose themselves to invasion and con
quest by other countries where such restrictions did not prevail. There would,
however, be very little likelihood of this happening, provided the necessary pre
cautions were taken. Well-armed minorities are more than a match for ill-
armed majorities ; and a comparatively small community fully equipped with
all the resources of science, and distinguished by the highest degree of physical
and mental efficiency could easily hold its own against all external enemies. A
mere handful of modern soldiers, supported by a few inventors, chemists, and
experts of various kinds, could disperse multitudes of assailants unprovided with
air-craft bombs, long range artillery, deadly gases, etc. The ancient Romans,
though they enjoyed but the most trifling advantages over their barbarian
antagonists in regard to weapons, and certainly none at all in regard to courage
and physical qualifies, by virtue of superior discipline and organisation suc
ceeded for centuries in repelling the attacks of much more numerous enemies;
and the Kole knowledge of the secret of the composition of Greek fire enabled the
Byzantine Emperors to hold Constantinople and the adjacent territories long
after the fall of Rome. Perhaps, as Mr. Harold Cox suggests, the governments
of the Nations whose birth rates were regulated might form a league for mutual
defence against those which did not impose similar checks.
F.A..W.G.
91
PROBLEMS OF SPIRITUAL EXPERIENCE
IV. FREEDOM AND EVIL.
By W. E. Boyce Gibson, M.A., D.Sc., Professor of Philosophy,
University of Melbourne.
THE central issue in regard to the theory of Freedom is that
between Determinism and Indeterminism. Determinism, in its
bearing on human action, is the view that man, even as a voluntary
agent is determined by the system of which he is a part : it is the
view that human conduct, like every other event, is unequivocally
determined by antecedents.
William James in his Essay on "The Dilemma of Determin
ism" has formulated the determinist position in a characteristically
clear and trenchant way. "Determinism," he says ("The Will to
Believe and other Essays," p. 150) "professes that those parts of
the Universe already laid down absolutely appoint and decree what
the other parts shall be." Hence everything is predetermined and
the Universe is a block-universe. There is no loose play between
its parts. Possibilities are illusory: they are merely necessities in
disguise. "Possibilities that fail to get realised never were possi
bilities at all." James then turns his attention more particularly to
what he calls "soft" as opposed to "hard" determinism, i.e., to the
determinism that admits the existence of ends and values, admits,
that is, the teleological view-point, and talks glibly of self-determin
ation, and yet endorses all the main features of the block-universe.
This soft determinism by reason of its belief in values and in
the distinction between good and evil is confronted by a dilemma,
a dilemma whose left horn is pessimism, and whose right horn is
subjectivism. The world, argues James, is full of evil, and the soft
determinist admits it. This evil engenders poignant regret, and this
regret, on the deterministic scheme is futile, unreasonable. And yet
it persists and makes pessimists of us, for a universe in which evil
is to be accepted by us as warmly as good, where all regret for evil
is absurd, is an immoral universe, and the loss of all faith in the
meaning of ethical values is the very recipe for pessimism.
Now pessimism is a depressing condition and the determinist
who still clings to the belief that life is worth living, even if one
thinks, will seek for a way out. He finds it in Subjectivism. He
will argue thus : "What merely happens in the universe is in itself
but a little thing. Its whole significance lies in its relation to me,
in the way it affects me. Our judgments and the feelings that go
with them are the main thing: the outward facts are mere perishing
instruments for their production and sustenance. This is Subjec-
92 PROBLEMS OF SPIRITUAL EXPERIENCE
tivism. It accepts the universe as a great drama, full of horrors and
yet full of ecstasies, and it has a traceable purpose, namely to give
the greatest enrichment of our ethical and dramatic consciousness
through the intensest play of contrasts and the widest diversity of
characters . The great thing, the thing that really matters is the
Subjective reaction, and this may be most glorious where all out
ward circumstance is most terrible. James admits that Subjectiv
ism is a more rational outlet than pessimism. Accept everything
without regret and put into your acceptance all the dramatic zest
you can.
And yet how unsatisfactory Subjectivism is; and James, in
whom the moralist is even stronger than the artist decides against
it on practical grounds. Morality can exist, he argues, only if we
subordinate our feeling to some sense of duty or obligation. Sub
jectivism cannot help us to do this. It cannot justify remedial
action of any kind, it stultifies every effort at reform and sends a
numbing chill through the very suggestion of active, zestful work.
Subjectivism, no less than Pessimism, is incompatible with a Phil
osophy of Action. Determinism, be it ever so soft, renders unintelli
gible even the mere willingness to ask independently of one s feel
ings, for this attitude implies that acts are good or bad, and the
belief that an act is bad implies regret at its happening, and regret
implies the admission of real possibilities 1 , and this means the disin
tegration of the block-universe.
Moral and pragmatic considerations force us then into Indeter-
minism, towards belief in a world in which the distinctive require
ments of the will are respected, where possibilities are open and real,
where actions may be right or wTong and really effective, and where
the judgment of regret becomes 1 intelligible since the regretted ac
tion might have been otherwise and remorse may reasonably be fol
lowed by reparation and reform. It is true that, on James s 1 view,
the presence of real possibilities implies intrinsic looseness in the
universe, real disconnection between its parts. The universe is
really a multi-verse. Freedom, again, means the complete separa
bility of free agents as first causes. And in order to avoid any am
biguity under this head, James refers to the Indeterminist Universe
as a world of Chance. "Chance," lie admits, is a brutal word, but
it is quite unambiguous since it is incompatible with determinism
in any form. To adopt it is to discard all pretence of being that
self-defeating creature, a free determinist, with his ambiguous doc
trine of self-determination. Chances are undetermined by anything
else and disconnected from everything else. A thing s chance-
character is what entitles it to say "Hands off !" But "Chance" so
conceived has one grave limitation. It is no more than a negative
PROBLEMS OF SPIRITUAL EXPERIENCE 93
condition of free activity, the opportunity for free action. It can
not therefore stand for "freedom in its more positive implications.
And James virtually admits this when on p. 179 of "The Will to
Believe/ he tells us that Chance means the opportunity of moral
progress, and adds: "This is the only chance we have any motive
for supposing to exist."
We pass 011 to Jameses significant contention that a world with
chances in it is more rational than a world without such chances.
It is indeed more rational for the will. The volitional situation
which includes no live options, no real open possibilities is a mis
nomer, for the will that has no genuine possibilities to consider is
left entirely objectless : its deliberation is futile and meaningless. A
possibility is as essential to will as is a problem to the intellect or
a value to a feeling. A block-universe may mean something to the
man who is content to consider the world as it is (or appears to be) :
it can mean nothing intelligible to the one who is intent, in aspir
ation and will, on the world as it is to be. Jameses insistence on
real possibilities and his further insistence that the world is far
more rational with them than without them have been of first-rate
importance in clarifying the issue and setting the free-will problem
on an intelligible basis.
None the less I cannot see that the acceptance of real possibil
ities necessarily implies, as James maintains, a pluralistic world or
multiverse, or that the rejection of the block-universe is tantamount
to the rejection of monism in every form. For the prac
tical sciences at any rate possibilities are perfectly coherent
data. They are possibilities for a will, they are the data of a per
fectly definite field, the field of deliberation. They are the data
which connect the will with its world, and with the world as a whole.
And this link between will and the world is that of psosible connec
tion through action. The subject in this relationship is sufficiently de
tached from the object to ensure its freedom and yet without discon
tinuity with the world, since a possible connection, in the sense here
in question, is a real connection. It needs but little imagination
to see that as voluntary agents we are girt on every side with poten
tial relations to objects clad about with possibilities whose best claim
to reality lies precisely in the fact that they are still unrealised.
These possibilities are the links of connection between ourselves as
free agents and the rest of the universe. And what applies to freedom
of choice applies also to freedom of creation. To create is not to
make something out of nothing, but to turn a possibility into an
actuality. Thus through these subtle threads of connection the
continuity requirement of Monism is satisfied, and our freedom is
seen to be an intelligible factor within the unity of the Universe.
94 PROBLEMS OF SPIRITUAL EXPERIENCE
The problem of Freedom connects itself closely with the pro
blem of moral evil. This evil, like the Kingdom of God lies within
us, in our will, in our personality. It is there unmistakeably actual.
But is it necessary ? Is it essential to morality ? Is it an indispensable
adjunct of the moral consciousness and essential to its development ?
This is the question we propose to consider.
It will presumably be admitted that the temptation to do wrong
is requisite for the shaping and testing of a good character. But if
this is so, then, since Temptation implies a tempter, the question
may well be raised whether the tempter, in the form of an evil im
pulse, is not in itself an evil, and a necessary evil. To admit the
necessity, the moral necessity of temptation, it may be said, is to
admit by implication the necessity of evil. It has been argued that
the possibilities of evil which tempt us in temptation are themselves
evil things. "We know them to be evil through their effects on
character when we act from them. And when we adopt them in our
volition we do not make them evil >\ve just bring out their own
real evil nature" Thus argues Professor Jacks ("The Enquirer").
But this does not convince me. If a possibility of evil is itself an evil,
then, on the self-same grounds a possibility of not-evil is not-evil.
But, if freedom is to be intelligible, a possibility of not-evil is also
at the same time a possibility of evil, and this possibility of evil,
we are told, is itself an evil, so that a possibility of not-evils is evil.
It would therefore follow that the possibility of what is not evil is
both evil and not evil, and we are landed in self-contradiction.
We take it then that the possibilities of evil which tempt us in
temptation are not themselves evils. But suppose now that our
objector shifts his ground, and avoiding all reference to possibilities,
i.e., to realities which are significant only in relation to the will,
turns to impulses as they exist and enact themselves independently
altogether of volitional control, and suppose that he maintains that
our human nature is subject to malignant impulses, actualities
whose nature is evil, and that these may come to the surface when
the will is 1 napping, and so work their havoc in the world, what are
we to say? We would, I think, readily admit that there is evil in
the universe which does not enter into it through the will but
through passion, weakness or ignorance. But is such evil necessary,
in the radical sense of that term ? Does the presence of good in the
world imply it, so that we cannot have the good without the evil?
Surely not. In a universe where will is the dominating agency, all
such evil passions before they can express themselves and prove
spiritually destructive may be brought under the will s inhibitory
control, and thereby transformed into mere possibilities of evil. We
PROBLEMS OF SPIRITUAL EXPERIENCE 95
may eventually be rid of them as actualities. In a word, if, and so
far as, the will is free, no evil is necessary.
Let us turn now to the objector who maintains that good im
plies evil, and thereby makes it possible for us, if it so please us, to
accept this world with its tangle of good and evil as the best of all
possible worlds. If this position is consistently adhered to our
objector will cling tenaciously to some residue of evil, for on his
view the total disappearance of evil would bring with it the total
disappearance of the good which implies it. It is indeed hard to
believe that any one should hold it morally desirable that evil should
never be rooted out of the world, and that, should it show signs of
vanishing, our duty, as self-respecting moral warriors, must be to
call it back in haste. When we pray, "Deliver us from evil/ must
we add the words under our breath "but not altogether" ? And yet
this is what we are logically condemned to do if we hold to the
position that good implies evil.
The attempt may be made to soften this dictum, the dictum
that "good implies evil" by the addendum that evil can be redeemed,
redeemed through the power of good. On this view a certain amount
of evil still remains indispensable, sufficient at any rate to stimulate
the good to its best efforts but the residue can be redeemed. This
would make it possible for all unnecessary evil to be eliminated.
But can we legitimately speak of redeeming evil? We speak of
selfishness being redeemed through love. But do we here mean any
thing more than that the energies misspent in the service of self-
absorption are won over by love and given a new direction. In
this case it is these energies which are redeemed and not the evil.
So when we speak of a man s redemption we mean, I take it /that his
natural powers and energies are won over to the service of good,
and re-directed under the guidance of the spirit. What is redeemed
is the man s nature, and what it is redeemed from is the evil. What
then becomes of the evil from which the natural man has been re
deemed ? On the view I have put forward it vanishes as evil alto
gether. Severed from the will, disadopted, nothing but its past his
tory remains. If we say that it persists as a possibility of evil,
tempting the will to readopt it, we must not forget that as a possi
bility of evil it is no longer an evil. The evil, in being disowned and
discarded, with whatever reparation the disowning implies for its
genuine fulfilment, is wholly extinguished. The will that brings
evil into being can also make it cease to be by shaking itself free
from the parasite. We cannot suppose that evil, dispossessed of its
hold on the will, persists as a malignant though baffled actuality,
a kind of Satanic Spirit, for, as Plato pointed out long ago, pure
evil could not hold itself together. Evil things cohere only through
96 PROBLEMS OF SPIRITUAL EXPERIENCE
the good that is in them. Evil itself is a disorganisation, so that the
disconnection from all that permits of being disorganised must be
fatal to evil. If the devil exists at all, he cannot be wholly black.
It is only in the abstract that he can be black all over.
Our argument so far has been to this effect, that in the activity
of the human will we have a power which, in principle, can turn
all events which come within its (range into opportunities for good.
Herein we have the miracle of will, for will is the greatest trans
muting agency in the universe : its spiritual alchemy consists in this
that it can arrest a tendency or an impulse which is heading towards
some evil climax, transmute it into a possibility, and then reject
it decisively as unfit for the building up of a moral order. In this
transmuting power of the will the power which lifts us above the
brute compulsion of actuality, we have, it seems to me, the ultimate
basis of the Kingdom of God within us. For until facts as they
are can be seen in a fresh light as mere raw material for the struct
ures of the spiritual world, and their value newly appraised from
that standpoint, no fundamentally new construction is possible. The
primary power of the will, the power of turning an actuality into a
possibility, a jbrute fact into a problem and then into a task, is the
power which lays the foundations of the spiritual temple in the
world as we know it. Every brick of that temple has once been a
real possibility, so that the whole spiritual structure down to its
minutest details embodies and expresses our freedom, and would be
meaningless without it.
No doubt, in the shaping of the Temple, powers are operative
which transcend even the miracle of will. If possibility is the raw
material and freedom the mason, the Architect is an Ultimate Obli
gation apart from whose operative presence and Ideal Pattern no
spiritual structure would be thinkable. But from the viewpoint of
the theme we have been considering, what I would emphasize is
that since the spiritual world rests wholly upon a basis of possi
bilities, and every possibility is a possibility for good as well as for
evil, there is no intrinsic necessity for the presence of any evil in
the world of the Spirit. Good does not imply evil, and we may say
of evil what Hegel said of Immediate Actuality : "Its vocation is
to be consumed." (Hegel s Logic, tr. Wallace, p. 266).
We have been assuming up to this point that the alternative
possibilities in an act of choice will be, relatively speaking, either
good or evil. But in many cases, even where great moral issues are
involved, the alternatives are both of them good and evil, good in
certain respects and directions, evil in others. It may be impossible
to make any choice that will not bring evil in its train. One may
have to choose, like Antigone, between family piety and loyalty to
PROBLEMS OF SPIRITUAL EXPERIENCE 97
the State. A genuine dilemma offers a choice of two evils, the miti
gating circumstance being that one is free to choose the lesser of the
two.
And there is a further contingency to which the whole history
of the tragic drama bears witness: A man may be excellent as a
whole but his character may have a weak and vulnerable spot: it
may be jealousy or ambition or hot temper; or he may not even have
a weak spot at all but simply possess 1 a temperament that puts him
out of touch with his age and disqualifies him for meeting the duties
of his station. And then circumstances may combine to strike
blow upon blow on this weak and vulnerable spot until a desperate
situation is created fatal to the buffeted individual and to many
more who are dragged down in the downfall. Is there not evil here
in an intense form, an evil that cannot be avoided, evil that is neces
sary, since the only road to improvement lies through a certain
climax of dislocation. Briefly, though it may be true that evil is not
necessary so long as its presence or absence depends on the choice of
a free will, it may become necessary when freedom has to bow before
fate or destiny.
These are genuine, old-time difficulties. The thesis of the first
is that evil is necessary since choice may be between two evils. Let
us consider this in the light of a special instance. A man may have
to choose between telling a lie direct or betraying the life of his
friend. Let us assume that each of these two alternatives is really
an evil. All the chooser can do is to accept the lesser evil of the
two. Evil is then necessary on that occasion and to that extent.
But it does not follow that evil is thereby shown to be involved in
the nature of things and to be something irremovable. This how
ever is what the thesis 1 "evil is necessary" substantially means. It
means that evil must always be with us and that we cannot get
rid of it. But if the lesser evil is always chosen there is nothing to
show that we may not get rid of tall evil in time.
But the assumption that each alternative is really an evil may
very well be contested. If in all sincerity, I make up my mind that
it is better to tell the lie roundly than to risk my friend s life, I
have decided that this is the good course and that it would be bad
to follow the other. The choice in last resort is between doing what
one sincerely believes to be right and what one teincerely believes to
be wrong. The lie told under these circumstances we call it some
times the "heroic" lie would be a good and not an evil. If the will
is sound, how can the action as such be evil ?
We turn then to the second of the two contingencies, to the
so-called tragic evil. On this point we have a most suggestive, and,
I would add, convincing statement from Professor A. C. Bradley, in
98 PROBLEMS OF SPIRITUAL EXPERIENCE
the Introduction to his work on the Tragedies of Shakespeare, for
we may surely take it that the problem of evil in Shakespearean
tragedy faithfully reflects in its essential features the problem of
evil in real life. The reading of these tragedies, according to Brad
ley, produces the persuasion that the ultimate power in the tragic
world is moral, showing itself akin to good and alien from evil.
Plain moral evil is seen to be at the root of the convulsions in which
the tragedy essentially consists. "The love of Borneo and Juliet
conducts them to death only because of the senseless hatred of their
houses." So "the situation with which Hamlet has to deal has
been formed by adultery and murder" (id. p. 34) . "The inference
is obvious," says Bradley. "If it is chiefly evil that violently dis
turbs the order of the world, this order cannot be friendly to evil or
indifferent between evil and good, any more than a body which is
convulsed by poison is friendly to it, or indifferent to the distinc
tion between poison and food." (id. p. 35). Again the mere defects
or imperfections of the hero (his irresolution, precipitancy, pride,
etc.,) defects which in the wider sense of the word are evil, these
"contribute decisively to the conflict and catastrophe." And the in
ference is again obvious, we read. The ultimate power which shows
itself disturbed by this evil and reacts against it, must have a nature
alien to it. Indeed its reaction is so vehement and relentless that
it would seem to be bent on nothing short of good in perfection, and
to be ruthless in its demand for it.
The tragic world thus appears as an order "which reacts
through the necessity of its own "moral" nature both against at
tacks made upon it and against failure to conform to it. Tragedy
on this view is the exhibition of that convulsive reaction." We are
made to feel that tragic suffering arises from collision with "a
moral power, a power akin to all that we admire and revere in the
characters themselves" (id. p. 36).
If then the Moral Order is alien to evil and hostile to it, it
cannot accept evil as necessary or as rooted in the nature of things.
Once evil has appeared it must work itself out through suffering
and through waste. Good must foe sacrificed to get rid of it. But
it is not necessary that it should appear, and it may be got rid of.
99
THE MACHINE AND THE WORKER.
By S. Wyatt, M.Sc. (Investigator to the Industrial
Fatigue Research Board, London).
GENEKAL CONSIDERATIONS.
IN recent years, the rapid growth and development of
psychological knowledge has not only greatly enhanced its position
as a science, but has also captivated public thought and imagination
to an almost embarrassing extent. Sincere attempts have been made
to apply its principles and laws to many aspects of human behaviour,
and results of great importance have been obtained. The interest
ing and spectacular character of some of these has sometimes
induced enthusiastic but uncritical individuals to boom the science
in an unwarranted manner, with the result that its achievements
often fall short of the expectations aroused. The application of
psychology to medicine, education, and industry, has nevertheless
yielded results of the utmost significance and importance, but the
comparatively immature nature of the investigations in these fields
must necessarily compel one to accept the findings with caution and
reserve. The application of psychology to industry is perhaps the
most recent of its developments 1 , and much of the progress made in
this direction is due to the impetus received during the war. The
psychological problems of industrial life embrace a wide and varied
field, but one of the most important is undoubtedly the relation
between the machine and the worker. The increasing specialisation
and sub-division of labour, together with the gradual replacement
of manual labour by the machine, is creating a situation which de
mands special inquiry and consideration. The days of craft-skill
are rapidly disappearing, >and the worker, instead of being respon
sible for the production of the complete article, is now usually con
cerned with the repeated production of one of its parts. In most
cases his dexterity and skill have been usurped by the machine, and
his efforts are now largely limited to feeding or controlling these
mechanical contrivances . Ultimate efficiency is still, [however,
largely dependent upon the man in charge of the machine, and it
may be useful to consider some of the psychological aspects of work
under these conditions.
DESIGN.
One of the most striking features which strikes the investigator
of industrial conditions is the discrepancy between the design of
the machine and the physical characteristics of the worker who con
trols it. All machines doing the same kind of work are usually of
identical type, yet individual differences in physical characteristics
are the most obvious features of human nature. From the mechan-
100 THE MACHINE A1\D THE WORKER
ical standpoint the machines may be perfect, but the designer often
fails to realise their inconvenience and defects from the point of
view of the worker.
The general contour of the machine in relation to the working
position of the operative frequently presents glaring defects. The
larger sized operatives on stamping-presses, for instance, often sit
with legs twisted and bent, back arched, and body compressed into
a space which would be conveniently filled by a worker of much
smaller dimensions. Such an unnatural posture can be modified
only within narrow limits, and although it may be tolerated for a
time, it becomes uncomfortable and even painful after prolonged
activity. Operatives working under such conditions are compelled
to obtain relief by leaving the machine at frequent intervals, osten
sibly to talk to another operative or to obtain some small article
in connection with the process of production. Interruptions to
productive activity are often due to the conditions imposed upon
the operative by the machine, and bear a distinct relation to the
imperfections in mechanical design.
The unsuitable design of the machine is consequently a con
tributory cause of much discomfort and reduced efficiency, which
could be avoided by an adequate realisation of the physical charac
teristics of the worker. If the driving position in an automobile
were as cramped as the worker s position on a machine, the makers
would very quickly become bankrupt. Since adjustable seats are
considered necessary in the construction of a car, in which the dur
ation of a single journey is usually comparatively short, the appli
cation of similar underlying principles of comfort are much more
necessary under the longer and more arduous conditions of activity
which exist in industry. Industrial operatives do not possess the
elastic and compressible properties of a gaseous body, as might be
inferred from the design of some machines.
Another constructional defect in many machines is the un
suitable height of the working-plane. In machines of the same type
the level at which most of the operations are performed is the same
for all operatives, with the result that tall workers are compelled to
bend and stoop to an unnecessary degree while the muscle-groups of
short workers are unduly extended. Such enforced attitudes inter
fere with the facility and ease of movement, and prevent the main
tenance of a high degree of efficiency. Wherever possible, the
working-plane of the machine should be capable of adjustment, but
when this is impracticable it should be constructed in accordance
with the requirements of the taller operatives, and the working
height of the shorter workers should be raised by means of standing-
blocks or adjustable chairs.
THE MACHINE AND THE WORKER 101
Much improvement is also possible in connection with the ac
cessibility of controls. In general, it is advisable to arrange these
in a hemi-spherical plane with the operative as centre, but in many
machines the worker is compelled to move or even to go round to the
back of the machine in order to reach a lever or wheel.
Such interruptions interfere with the rhythm and swing of pro
ductive activity and are an important cause of lost time and de
creased efficiency.
On some machines, such as those used in bobbin-winding in
the textile industry, the operative is forced to stoop almost to floor
level in order to pick up the yarn, and must stretch over and above
the machine after removing the finished bobbins from the spindles.
These movements are repeated hundreds of times in the course of a
day, and although for a short time they may be useful as muscular
exercises, their repeated performance is conducive to an unnecessary
amount of strain and fatigue.
A further undesirable feature of some machines is the strength
required to operate the controls. In many cases it is not only ex
cessive, but often varies considerably in machines of the same type.
It was found, for instance, that lace machines of identical structure
and function showed a variation of 501bs. in the strength required
to operate the same control.* If one of the functions of the psycho
logist in industry is to reduce the expenditure of unnecessary energy,
then such instances provide an obvious field for investigation and
improvement. Laboratory experiments on repeated muscular activ
ity, such as those provided by the ergograph and spring-balance,
show unmistakably the unfavourable influence on working capacity.
The manipulative requirements of some machines must also have
similar effects, which are a direct and avoidable cause of reduced
output.
The manipulation of controls may appear comparatively easy
when considered in the designer s office or testing room, but their
effect under the more exacting and arduous industrial conditions is
seldom realised. Mechanical controls should be considered in re
lation to the various muscle-groups of the operator, so that the
movements involved may be in harmony with physical and physio
logical principles.
The direction of movement required in the control of some
machines is also an objectionable feature. This aspect of mechan
ical design appears to have received very little consideration, but an
investigation on the relative ease and efficiency of movement in the
three dimensions of space would undoubtedly reveal important dif-
* H. C. Western : "A note on machine design in relation to the operative,"
3rd Annual Report of the Industrial Fatigue Research Board.
102 THE MACHINE AND THE WORKER
f erences. In controlling -a machine, it may be easier to pull towards
the body rather than push away from it, and movements in a plane
parallel to the front of the body are still more difficult. The ques
tion is certainly worthy of investigation, and should be carried out
in conjunction with the determination of the habits of action most
easily acquired.
In the construction of machines 1 , the designer is naturally chiefly
concerned with their mechanical and functional efficiency, and fails
to appreciate their weaknesses from the standpoint of the operative.
The principles governing the efficiency of the machine are usually
thoroughly understood, -and its behaviour can be predicted and con
trolled with the greatest accuracy. The human mechanism, on the
other hand, is comparatively ignored, and seldom receives consid
eration. The functioning of the human mechanism is infinitely
more delicate >and wonderful than that of the most ingenious
machine; muscular and nervous adjustments and co-ordinations are
subject to definite laws, yet very few attempts are made to attain
the conditions under which these laws operate most beneficially. An
accurate knowledge of the mechanism of the human body is just as
necessary as a perfect understanding of the machine, if the two are
to function harmoniously and efficiently together. A closer contact
between the industrial psychologist and the mechanical designer is
accordingly desirable, and satisfactory mechanical conditions will
never be obtained until such an arrangement exists.
SPEED.
Another important factor in the relation between the worker
and the machine is the speed of the machine. Machines as a rule
conform to two types ; those in which the speed is under the control
of the worker and those which run at a speed which is independent
of her activities. Thus the mechanism of a stamping press may be
released by the pressure of the foot on a pedal every time the article
is placed in position to be punched, or it may be actuated 100 times
a minute by mechanical means in which case the operative is ex
pected to supply the machine with material to be punched at this
fixed rate. Obviously the speed question enters into questions con
nected with machines of the latter type, and these will be the chief
subject for discussion in this section of the article.
Machines of similar design, size, and function are usually set
to run at the same fixed speed, and the operative is expected to keep
pace with their inexorable demands. It is rather like expecting a
long distance runner to keep pace with a motor-cycle running at a
constant speed of 10 or 15 miles an hour. One of the most obvious
traits of the worker, however, is the variability in working capacity
throughout the day or week. The requirements of the machine
THE MACHINE AND THE WORKER 103
seem to assume that the bodily mechanisms of the operative are also
able to function in a purely mechanical manner, and to ignore the
fact that even if the human body consisted solely of nerves and
muscles, the increased resistance to the passage of impulses pro
duced by continued activity would cause a progressive decrease in
the rate of working. The human organism, however, is much more
than the sum of its anatomical parts, and variations in the rate of
working caused by different psychological states may be quite as
great as those produced by the more physiological conditions. Sim
ilar variations between different workers are equally noticeable, and
yet each operative, if she is to conform to mechanical requirements,
must perform the same cycle of movements with unvarying regu
larity throughout her industrial life.
If the speed of the machine were set to coincide with the slow
est rate of working of the operative, the pace could be maintained
with comparative ease, but in many cases, the mechanical speed is in
excess of the average, or even the maximum rate of working of the
operative. Only for very short periods can the worker cope with
the maximum requirements of the machine. During a large pro
portion of the day (in some cases from 30 to 50 per cent.) she fails
to supply the machine with the necessary material, a state of affairs
which is obviously economically undesirable. Apart from the pro
ductive loss sustained, such enforced interruptions to continued
activity interfere with the rhythmical movements of the operative,
and prevent the appearance of the pleasant emotional state which
usually accompanies rhythmical activity. Operatives who are the
the unfortunate possessors of certain types of temperament become
discouraged by their inability to keep pace with the machine, and
the pleasure usually associated with successful performance is non
existent. Others become indifferent to the unattainable speed, and
work at a rate which is in harmony with their abilities and inclina
tions. Occasionally, when the inclination to work at a slower rate
occurs, operatives sometimes find that the higher mechanical speed
acts as an inducement to greater activity, in much the same way
that a pacer acts upon a walker or runner. The operation of such
an incentive, however, appears to be of limited value, and, if unduly
prolonged, may have undesirable effects.
In practice, the actual speed of some machines is in excess
of the maximum rate of working of the operative, but the choice
appears to be largely determined by chance. If it were set to coin
cide with the maximum rate of working of the operative, then for
the greater part of the work-period she will be striving to keep pace
with a rate which is only attainable with difficulty, and the activity
in consequence will be comparatively fatiguing. If the speed of the
104 THE MACHINE AND THE WORKER
machine is equal to the average rate of working of the operative,
then in the early stages of work she will be capable of exceeding
the controlled speed, while in the latter part of the spell she will find
it difficult to keep pace with it. If the speed is made equal to the
slowest rate of working, then throughout the greater part of the spell
she will be capable of greatly exceeding the prescribed rate. Thus
whatever the speed of the machine, it cannot always be perfectly
adapted to the natural rate of working of the operative, and at cer
tain stages of work will decrease efficiency either directly by prevent
ing the operative from exceeding the prescribed rate, or indirectly by
producing increased strain and fatigue. Because of these objections,
a machine whose speed is under the control of the operative is pre
ferable, since it enables natural variations in working capacity to be
adequately expressed, and, providing satisfactory incentives exist,
will usually result in a higher output and efficiency than in cases
of mechanically fixed speeds.
In addition to the existence of variations in the rate of working
of the same individual, there are also the very large differences be
tween different individuals. In this respect also, individually con
trolled speeds provide the necessary freedom and elasticity for the
expression of these individual differences, and on the whole enable
the work to be done with greater comfort and efficiency and with less
fatigue. Where mechanically controlled speeds are unavoidable,
They must be adapted to the optimum rate of working of each oper
ative, if maximum efficiency and comfort are to be obtained. Under
existing industrial conditions, the magnitude and importance of
individual differences are insufficiently recognised, and although
standardisation may be possible and desirable on the mechanical
side, it cannot be rigidly applied to the workers.
UNIFORMITY.
A third effect imposed upon the worker by the machine is the
simplification of the movements performed, and their increased
regularity and uniformity. The thought and initiative formerly
associated with craft skill are now relics of the past, and the repeti
tive nature of modern industrial work has given rise to new and
important problems. It is maintained by many labour leaders and
workers that modern industrial conditions make the behaviour of
the operative as mechanical as the machine on which he works, that
initiative and creative thought are deadened or destroyed, that pleas
ure and interest in work have entirely disappeared, that the general
development of the worker is retarded and he is prevented from
living and enjoying a full and complete life. Above all, it is said
that the monotony of work is rapidly increasing an assertion which
THE MACHINE AND THE WORKER 105
may be true, but which can only be proved or disproved by investi
gation along scientific lines.
As a general rule, work becomes interesting and satisfying
when it provides a means 1 of satisfying human desires and aspir
ations, and it is fairly certain that the objective conditions of mod
ern industry are less satisfying in this respect than the days of in
creased variety in industrial tasks. Although the occasional visitor
to a factory may be impresesd by the apparent uniformity and mono
tony of the work, he often fails to realise that the workers some
times find variety in evident uniformity. Some individuals un
doubtedly enjoy continued repetition work of a mechanical nature,
because it is free from responsibility and concentrated attention or
thought. It is conducive to mental repose or passivity and provides
opportunities for mind-wandering or thought directed upon pleas
ant subjects.
Other workers are prepared to tolerate monotonous conditions
because they are sometimes accompanied by higher wages and
shorter hours, and thereby provide the means and opportunity for
activities and pleasures outside the factory. In many cases, there
appears to be a gradual adaptation to the mechanical and monoto
nous conditions, which, like noise, come to be regarded as necessary
features of industrial life.
The monotonous nature of mechanical work can often be allevi
ated by utilising devices which interrupt or change the continuous
flow of uniform activity, or which modify the mental attitude by
introducing new interests and incentives. Rest-pauses, for instance,
have been found beneficial in this respect.* It has often been shown
that in mechanically repeated operations, the prospect of several
hours continuous activity has a depressing effect upon the operatives,
and causes a considerable reduction in output particularly ^about the
middle of the spell of work. The introduction of a suitable rest
makes the work more bearable, and creates a different attitude to
wards the task. Frequently an increase in output is noticeable not
only in the period following the pause, but also before the rest oc
curs. The latter effect is psychological, and is due to the modi
fication in the mental attitude produced by the anticipated rest.
It has also been demonstrated that suitable changes in the form
of activity will reduce the degree of monotony associated with con
tinued repetition work.f In addition to producing a revival of
interest, changes in the form of activity give relief by bringing into
operation new neuro-musculair) coordinations, andl allowing the
fatigued mechanisms time to recover. This explanation implies
* See, for instance, article on "Monotony," ,T. of the National Institute of
Industrial Psy. Vol. II. No. 1.
f Report No. 26 of the Industrial Fatigue Research Board.
106 THE MACHINE AND THE WORKER
that the decrease in working activity is due to boredom and mono
tony, and that any fatigue produced is largely local, rather than gen
eral, but such conditions are very prevalent in industry. It is im
portant to remember that the introduction of changes in activity
will be most effective when they involve very different demands upon
the mechanisms of the individual.
Other possibilities of decreasing the monotonous effects of
mechanical work consist in the provision of interests and incentives
to activity which are operative while the work is being performed.
All those which appeal to the instincts of self-assertion and acquisi
tion are useful in this respect, particular examples of which are the
system of payment by results, profit-sharing schemes, and oppor
tunities for transfer and promotion. Under existing industrial
conditions, operatives seldom work to the limits of their capacity
unless they feel that their efforts are suitably rewarded. A time rate
guarantees a living wage, but a piece rate appeals to the desire for
personal gain and a reward proportional to the effort expended.
Operatives paid by piece rates are usually dimly conscious that every
unit of output produced means so much money at the end of the
week, and when the desire to earn as much as possible exists, it
stimulates activity in moments of indifference and reduced effort.
Bonuses or profit-sharing schemes 1 based upon the annual profits of
the firm usually have very little effect as an additional incentive to
activity. Their rewards are too remote from the daily life of the
worker to have any appreciable influence, and though they may
cause an increase in output immediately before and after the time of
distribution, they fail to affect the activities of the workers during
the greater part of the year. The desire for promotion also forms
a powerful incentive in industry, yet it is insufficiently utilised and
often entirely repressed. The ambitious operative who realises that
the opportunities for promotion are very remote will be discouraged
and not likely to produce a high quality and quantity of output.
On the other hand, the existence of a graded system of pro
motion will do much to stimulate activity even when the work is
otherwise uniform and dull. Progress induces self-respect and is an
inducement to greater activity, and the introduction of schemes
which appeal to deep-seated interests and desires will do much to
neutralise the effects of mechanical work. Interests outside the
factory also cast a glow over inside activities, and an operative who
can look forward to an interesting evening or week-end will be in a
more pleasurable frame of mind, and less inclined to be annoyed
or depressed by monotonous work, than one whose life is always
grey. In this respect, social activities and sports provided by the
employers are particularly valuable.
THE MACHINE AND THE WORKER 107
An interesting problem for future investigation is the relation
between intelligence and the ability to endure repetition work of a
mechanical nature. Many people believe that the monotony asso
ciated with such work is most intense in the case of highly intelli
gent individuals. In some factories 1 the employment managers
accept for employment only those applicants who seem to possess
just enough intelligence necessary for the work, and reject the
more gifted in this respect. An investigation which would reveal
the amount of intelligence required for different industrial tasks
would be particularly valuable, so that vocational tests could be con
structed accordingly.
The above considerations by no means exhaust the number of
problems connected with the relation of the worker and the machine,
but they serve to illustrate their nature and emphasise the import
ance of future research in this direction.
NOTES BY THE WAY.
No. 4.
Ethics of the Dust.
There is a notion, common among hobbledehoys, that "experience"
can be widened by a loss of self-control. Some of them will misbehave
themselves just to "see life," or to "know the whole of life." And some
half-sane or trashy-hearted writers of fuller age have erected this
mess of vague thought into a kind of philosophy. Life they regard as
an opportunity for collectorship, and they think of any new thing,
noble or foul, that one does or sees as an addition to one s collection
and an enrichment of one s personality; it makes one s life, they fancy,
fuller and more complete, enlarges a man s knowledge of his own soul
and helps him to gain a deeper insight into the heart and meaning of
the whole world.
These ethics of the dust rest wholly on orie blunder. They assume
that every novel step which you take must needs increase your experi
ence and not diminish it. Their algebra of experience recognises only
the positive sign. They reckon with no minus experiences. They
think of the clean boy who gives up his cleanness as if he had added
somethirig to his experiences and subtracted nothing; whereas at every
loss of self-control, you make some exchange of the spacious lightsome
experience of moral autonomy for the dark an d narrow experience of
moral helplessness; you always come off a net loser, your treasury of
experience depleted on balance, your vision of life more or less blurred,
your register of experience smudged, your faculty for delight percep
tibly enfeebled. Burns had tried the thing out: he knew all about it
when he wrote of urico.ntrol it hardens all within and petrifies the
feeling.
C. E. Montague, in The Right Place.
108
BEHAVIOUR IN THE LIGHT OF MODERN
BIOLOGICAL RESEARCH.
By E. Simmat, B.A., Research Scholar, Department of Psychology,
University of Sydney.
MAN has always tended to regard himself as a unified whole.
He terms himself an individual. He says he is conscious 1 of his own
individuality. Whether Man is a unity from the psychological point
of view is a much disputed question in both philosophical and
psychological circles. The facts of hypnotisms, dreams, and
mediumships would lead us to the conclusion that M<an is not even
a psychic unity. At present it is proposed to consider him from a
different aspect. If some scrapings from the back of a human hand
are placed on a slide and examined under the high power of a micro
scope they become resolved into a series of definite cells. If a sec
tion of bone is cut it may also be seen to consist of cells. If a sec
tion of muscle or cartilage be examined, it too proves to be com
posed of cells. The cell is the basic unit in the physical structure of
Man. It might quite logically be contended that the cell is also
the basic unit in the psychic structure of Man.
The entire human body is composed of cells. There are nerve
cells, bone cells, connective cells, skin cells, and so on. To under
stand the behaviour of Man it is essential to consider him as an
integration of cells an integration of many million cells. There
are over twelve million cells in the brain alone. Each cell must be
conceived as having ia certain amount of Vital Urge involved in it.
By Vital Urge must be understood the energy which is the funda
mental factor involved in all Life. It is an Urge of Life to main
tain itself a vital force without which matter cannot be conceived
as living. It may be accepted as the fundamental Principle of
Vitality that only those molecular structures so integrated that the
resulting phenomena are life processes may become living
organisms, and only such molecular structures can reproduce living
structures similar to themselves. The force which maintains these
molecular structures in a state of acting integration or Life, that is to
say which enables them to exist as living cells, is what is implied in
the concept of Vital Urge. Conceive this Vital Urge, involved in the
many million cells of the human body integrated to form one great
driving force within the organism. Conceive the individual as
influenced by the combined Vital Urge involved in all these inte
grated cells. The external manifestations of the integrated Vital
Urge constitute behaviour.
MODERN BIOLOGICAL RESEARCH 109
In the human individual the various cells are integrated into
organs which have grown to be specially adapted for particular
functions; there are the organs of sight, the organs of locomotion
and the organs of digestion these are specific integrations of cells.
The organs co-ordinate with each other to promote the welfare of
the entire organism. This co-ordination is achieved by a special type
of integration the integrative action of the nervous system. This
is the result of a long process of adaptation of living matter to the
needs of the organism. The needs are those involved in the re
lation of the organism, to its environment. The adaptation has
taken place during past ages of evolution. The nervous system is
composed of cells which have been specially adapted for the purpose
of co-ordinating the Vital Urge of the various organs in such a way
that the resulting behaviour will promote the welfare of the whole.
If such an adaptation be not possible at any time the organism
cannot continue to live, nor can it perpetuate its kind.
From a functional point of view there are two types of nerve,
the voluntary and the involuntary. The voluntary nerves are under
the control of the will. The involuntary nerves are not under the
control of the will and are mainly concerned with actions of an
automatic type, visceral activities, and with muscle tone.
Both the voluntary and the involuntary nervous systems are
composed of afferent and efferent nerves; the afferent conveying an
impulse to the central nervous system, the efferent conveying an
impulse from the central nervous system.
There are three broad types of nerve co-ordination. The lowest
occurs at the spinal level and the reactions at this stage are termed
reflexes. The next highest is the sub-cortical. These reactions are
the instinctive, and have often been more definitely localised as
being co-ordinated in the cerebellum. The highest type of reaction
results from reasoned judgment and involves finer co-ordination
and integration in the cerebral cortex.
In the normal sensori-motor arc there are two structural types
of nerve fibre. There is one medullated, this is the motile. The
other is non-medullated, and is the sympathetic or tonic. If the
finger is pricked with a pin the result is an almost immediate with
drawal of the part concerned. The whole process is involuntary, and
the co-ordination does not take place in the upper cephalic regions.
This may be easily proved by cutting the spinal cord of a frog at the
posterior extremity of the head ; the resulting material is known as
the spinal animal; that is to say the nervous communication be-
between the brain and the other regions has 1 been severed. If this
spinal animal is taken and some irritant acid applied to the surface
of its abdomen the right hind limb will make efforts to remove the
110 BEHAVIOUR IN THE LIGHT OF
irritation. If the right hind limb is held, then the left hind limb
takes up the movement, and if both the hind limbs are held, the
fore limbs will often move in an ineffective manner. This experi
ment is instructive in that it shows the possibilities of low level
co-ordination within the spinal cord.
The typical reflex arc may be described as being constituted
by a receptor, an afferent nerve fibre, co-ordination in the spinal
cord, an efferent nerve fibre, and an effector organ with its attached
muscle. There are other factors determining a reflex act. The
late Professor Hunter in his work on the involuntary nervous sys
tem has shown the importance of the sympathetic nervous system.
The sympiathetic is that portion of the nervous system concerned
with the maintenance of muscle tone and exists in intimate relation
with the visceral organs. The sympathetic nerves make it possible
for the normal individual to maintain a muscle in a certain state
of contraction for long periods without continuously thinking about
it. If there is some disturbance of the Sympathetic Nervous
System the result may be complete paralysis of one or more organs.
This state may be remedied by cutting the sympathetic nerves at
tached to that organ.
There are two kinds of muscle tone. The contractile tone of
any muscle is determined by the Voluntary Nervous System; the
plastic tone is determined by the Sympathetic Nervous System.
Dr. Boyle has now proved by a special technique of operative pro
cedure that spastic paralysis occurs when there is over-emphasis
of the plastic tone of any muscle. One patient was 1 a soldier who
had received a gunshot wound in the vertex of the skull. Since
1916 he had been paralysed in both legs. After an operation on the
sympathetic nerves connected with the affected organs, severing
them as close as possible to the sympathetic ganglion sysiem which
runs parallel to the spinal cord an immediate improvement was
noticed. Four weeks after the subject could balance himself, and
at the time Dr. Royle delivered the lecture describing the case he
could stand up for nearly half an hour without any support.
Normally, if an individual wishes to move his leg, the muscles
contract evenly and regularly. In abnormal cases the movement is
often obstructed by a loss of flexibility in the muscles concerned.
In spastic paralysis there is a failure of the principle of reciprocal
innerviation. To remedy this state the sympathetic nerves con
nected with the defective muscle must be severed.
An interesting aspect of nerve co-ordination may be found in
what Pawlow has described as the conditioned reflex. If a dog is
shown a piece of meat his mouth immediately begins to secrete
saliva. It is possible to create these conditioned reflexes quite
MODERN BIOLOGICAL RESEARCH 111
easily. Suppose an experiment is carried out using a cat and a
dog as material. Show the cat to the dog. The dog will normally
bristle up and growl. At the moment the cat is shown to the dog
say "cat" in a loud voice. If this process be repeated sufficiently a
time will come when the mere mention of the word "cat" will
cause the dog to bristle up and growl, although the cat may not be
there at all. Pawlow gives a very wide meaning to the term con
ditioned reflex. His latest work on the conditioned reflex was
given in an address to the American Association for the Advance
ment of Science. Pawlow trained white mice to come to their din
ner at the sound of a bell. It took some two to three hundred les
sons to teach them this. He then taught the young of these mice
to do the same thing. They learnt their lesson after fewer trials.
The third generation of mice required still fewer lessons. Pawlow
claims that after he has bred several more generations of white mice
it will not be necessary to teach them to come to the sound of the
bell for their dinner. The new generations will come without being
taught. This seems questionable and involves problems of such
moment that the whole account should be treated very cautiously.
In an experiment of this nature the test conditions must be very
carefully prepared.
The difference between reflex and instinctive acts is in the degree
of complexity. All types of reflex acts involve only a few nervous
paths. This is the reason why the so-called conditioned reflex is
not a true reflex. In the reflex act consciousness is not an import
ant factor. The individual can react to a stimulus without con
sciously attaching any meaning to it. Consciousness succeeds and
does not precede the reflex act. As instinctive acts become more
and more separated from pure reflexes so is the emphasis on con
sciousness increased. To react instinctively the organism must
attach some feeling to the stimulus. The instinct of flight is only
aroused when the organism is in a situation that arouses some feel
ing of danger. The instinctive mechanism may be defined <as an
inherited physically structural integration of cells typical of any
species of organism, which, in a relation* to other vascular or vis
ceral integrations, tends to produce conative resistance to a particu-
type of destructive moment in the reality peculiar to that organism.
This process of relation initiates and results in various affects
directly proportional to the conative resistance stimulated. An
instinctive act is a certain co-ordinated movement which has been
determined primarily during the phylogenetic growth of the organ
ism; its evolution has been determined by the principle that only
those reactions to experience which serve or do not hinder the con-
* Primarily potential but secondarily modifiable by sense-experience.
112 BE HA VIO UR IN THE LIGHT OF
tinned activity of the vital process tend to persist within any organ
ism or species of organism as neural paths of low resistance that is,
as potentialities for similar reaction in the future. Those reactions
which hinder or do not serve the continued activity of the vital pro
cess in any organism or species of organism will tend toward their
destruction with the result that those reactions cannot persist, or
&e transmitted within the species and therefore will be eliminated.
An instinctive act involves feeling as the result of a situation.
The situation has been recurrent during the evolution of the organ
ism. It has necessitated certain reactions if the organism is to
continue to live and to perpetuate its species. Only those organ
isms that felt in a particular way in these situations could react
adequately. Those that did not feel in this way could not react
adequately. They became eliminated by natural selection and so
could not perpetuate their species. Gradually there became de
veloped a species of organism such that all its members felt in par
ticular ways in particular situations. As a result of this feeling
peculiar to particular situations all reacted in a particular way to
these situations. This is the process of the evolution of an instinct.
The reaction adequate to a particular type of situation is the in
stinctive reaction. The feeling is the emotion. Emotion and
instinct are inseparable. Each instinctive act is accompanied by
its emotion. Each instinctive act is one that the organism must
make in order that either its own welfare should be secured or that
its species should be perpetuated. The motive force behind instinct
is the Urge to Live which must be present in every living organism.
Eeflex action involves no emotion; an instinctive act does. Emo
tion is initiated physiologically and culminates psychologically.
Physiologically, emotion is said to be the result of amoeboid
processes which develop from the neuroglia in the synapses. Psycho
logically, it is augmented by resistance to a conation, by some
thwarting element in the environment of the organism. Emotion
is the surging of the vital forces within the organism. The more
the instinctive reaction is resisted the greater the emotion, the
greater the Vital Urge concentrated in order that the appropriate
reaction should take place.
Whereas reflex acts are due to spinal neural arcs, instinctive
acts are co-ordinated in the cerebellum. Neurologically and psycho
logically the instinctive reaction is the more complicated. A brief
summary of the instincts in the order of their development might
be interesting. The earliest instincts to appear were doubtless those
connected with nutrition. At first the organism would merely ab
sorb food from the surrounding medium as does Amoeba, later
more complicated processes would be evolved, including search for
MODERN BIOLOGICAL RESEARCH 113
appropriate food, pursuit of prey, and finally the adoption of vari
ous means for capturing the prey. Simultaneously, other instincts
connected with defence would be developing. These would be at
first passive and might be called instincts of structural defence. A.n
example would be the oyster who builds a shell that the voracious
fishes might not so easily devour him. Later the instincts of with
drawal or flight would appear, and finally there would be evolved the
more active instinct of pugnacity. In addition there are the in
stincts connected with the care of young ; these are the constructive,
as when the bird builds a nest, and the maternal. Finally, there are
the instincts connected with sex, and the social instincts such as
what Macdougall calls primitive passive sympathy, and the gre
garious instinct. Certain instincts are of disputable origin. Curios
ity seems to be connected with the primitive tendency to seek food ;
repulsion might possible be the result when curiosity is rewarded by
something that is not pleasing; the instinct of self assertion is un
doubtedly connected with pugnacity, that of submission with flight,
while the acquisitive instinct might be traced to the simpler family
instincts.
There are certain types of reaction closely allied to instincts
which Macdougall has called "sensation reflexes/ These would in
clude such tendencies as scratching a spot that itches, blinking an
eyelid or sneezing. It might be more convenient to call these pure
reflexes. There are also other tendencies such as laughter and play,
which really have an instinctive origin but which are too com
plicated to be fully considered here.
Monckton in his book, "Some Experiences of a New Guinea
Resident Magistrate," gives an interesting account of what might
be termed instinctive behaviour : he writes :
" I noticed some rats going down to the
edge of the reef lank, hungry looking brutes they were, with pink,
naked tails. I stopped on the point of throwing lumps of coral at
them out of curiosity to see what the vermin meant to do at the sea.
"Rat after rat picked a flattish lump of coral, squatted on the edge
and dangled his tail in the water; suddenly one rat gave a violent
leap of about a yard, and as he landed I saw a crab clinging to his
tail. Turning round the rat grabbed the crab, devoured it, and
then returned to his stone; the while the other rats were repeat
ing the same performance." (Chapter 6, page 46).
One cannot comment upon such an example. It is strangely
reminiscent of the white mouse that got drowned in a pail of milk,
whereupon the other mice formed a chain, and lowering themselves
into the pail rescued their unfortunate comrade. As Wallace com
mented, it would not have been unusual for such extraordinarily in-
114 BEHA VIO UR IN THE LIGHT OF
telligent mice, such as these were, to have placed their comrade in
a casket and held a burial service over his remains. It is quite easy
to read more than there actually is into many actions of the lower
animals.
The Hermit crab affords a well-known classical example of in
stinct. The account is from O Brien s book, "From Mystic Isles
of the South Seas," Chapter 18, pages 371-372.
" I seized one and behold, the inmate was
walking on ten legs with the shell on his back, like a man carrying a
dog-house. I attempted to pull him out of his lodging, and he was
so firmly fastened to the interior by hooks on his belly that he held
on until he was torn asunder. His abdomen is soft and pulpy with
out protecting plates, as have other crabs, and he survived only by
his childhood custom of stealing a uni-valve abode, though he mur
dered the honest tenant. In one I saw the large pincher of the crab
so drawn back as to form a door to the shell as perfect as the orig
inal. When he felt growing pains the Hermit Crab unhooked him
self from his ceiling and migrated in search of a more commodious
dwelling.
"Interesting as were these habits of the Cenobite crustacean, his
keeping a policeman or two on guard on his roof, and moving them
to his successive domiciles was more so. These policemen are anem
ones, and I saw Hermit crab shells with three or four on them, and
one even in the mouth of the shell. When the anchorite was ready for
a new shell he left his old one and examined the new ones acutely.
Finding one to suit his expected growth, he entered it belly first,
and transferred the anemone, by clawing and pulling loose its hold,
to the outside of his chosen shell. How skilfully this was done may
be judged by the fact that I could not get one free without tearing
the cup-like base which fastened it. The anemone assisted in the
operation by keeping its tentacles expanded, whereas it withdrew
them if any foreign object came near. The stinging cells of the
anemone prevent fishes from attacking the hermit, and that is the
reason for his care of the parasite. It is the commensalism of the
struggle for existence, learned not by the individual crab but by his
race. Some crabs wield an anemone firmly grasped in each claw,
the stinging nematocysts of the parasite warding off the devilish
octopus, and the anemone having a share of the crab s meals and the
pleasure of vicarious transportation. The anemone at the mouth of
the shell keeps guard at the weakest spot of the hermit s armour."
The point is that the Hermit Crab is unprotected by any hard
case of his own. In order that he should live and perpetuate his
species he must find protection for himself in # shell. Those primi
tive hermit crabs that did not protect themselves by finding shells
MODERN BIOLOGICAL EE SEARCH 115
did not live to perpetuate their species. Only those that sought and
found shells survived. The tendency to seek shells became phylo-
genetically imprinted.
As evolution proceeded there came a stage when organisms
began to live together in communities. This involved a great
change. Organisms began to recognise members of their own group
and to attack others who were not members of their group. It was
through this stage that evolution proceeded to the : ape. Meanwhile
binocular vision had begun to supersede the panoramic vision of the
lower vertebrates. Binocular vision involves perception of the third
dimension as well as texture, distance and size to a lesser extent.
Panoramic vision cannot perceive the third dimension. The typical
panoramic vision is that of the fowl, the two fields of vision do not
overlap, the beak intervenes.
Among the lower vertebrates there is a tendency to recognise
things more by smell than by any other sense. When animals began
to live in trees audition and sight necessarily became more special
ised, and the tendency was to recognise things more and more by
the eyes ! and the ears. As the vocal organs increased in function so
was the emphasis placed on hearing. The organism recognised
its prey by sight and its mate by hearing. This resulted in a
lessening of the need for smelling things. The general effect of
these changes was a tendency for the nose to diminish and for the
eyes to approach each other. Hence began binocular vision in
which the nose does not separate the two fields of vision. Neurologi-
cally, the process resulted in a proportional decrease in the cerebral
zones for smell, and an increase in the zones for vision, hearing,
and the motor zones involved in sound communication.
With the evolution of speech, the organism could proceed to
the self-conscious/ stage. Man alone has progressed . thus? far.
Through the medium of speech the individual is able to convey his
wants concisely and to appreciate easily the wants of others. He no
longer merely feels, he knows, he recognises, he discriminates. He
becomes conscious of himself as an individual, he becomes conscious
of others as individuals. He unifies his reactions, as far as he is
able, into a consistency of behaviour; he strives after ideals; he
formulates religions; conceives social systems and consciously
strives to better his lot. In other words, he has reached the stage
of intelligence.
Two criteria of intelligent behaviour may be set up. First,
there is the capacity for utilising previous experience. Second,
there is the self conscious factor the consistency of reactions with
some idea of behaviour. The first occurs when f a monkey learns to
1 1 6 BE HA VIO UR IN THE LIGHT OF
open his cage after a long series of trials and errors. The monkey
is not completely intelligent in that he cannot refer his reactions
to some idea of what behaviour should be.
Previous experience may be considered from two points of
view. Firstly, previous experience may be that of the race experi
ences persisting during past : ages of evolution. It is these per
sistently recurring experiences that have determined instinctive
behaviour. They are phylogenetic experiences. Memory of them is
phylogenetic memory. This memory is not specific. It is more
what is popularly known as intuition. It is the vague feeling that
has been described.
The other type of experience is individual or ontogenetic.
Memory of these experiences is ontogenetic memory. Intelligence
and ontogenetic memory are directly proportional to each other.
The more individual experiences are utilised the greater the intelli
gence. Experiences cannot be utilised if they cannot be remem
bered at the appropriate time.
Fundamentally memory is dependent upon purely neurological
conditions; if the nerve fibres of the cortex are very plastic the
conditions favour a good memory, if they are less plastic memory
is impaired accordingly. Invariably the memory of the aged is
not so effective as that of those younger. Memory is no better and
no worse than the cortical nerve fibres which the individual possesses.
The so-called improvements in memory are due to improved methods
of systematizing the matter to be memorised. Memory implies re
tention firstly, and then recall at the appropriate time when the
previous experience is required. Eetention is the neurological fac
tor; recall is more psychological. A situation initiates certain
psychological processes. The idea of the situation calls up other
ideas of similar situations by the process of association. The indi
vidual reacts to that situation in accordance with those ideas of
previous situations, that is to say, in accordance with his previous
experience. It is in proportion as the individual can adequately
recall past experiences applicable to any situation that he may be
considered as reacting intelligently in that situation.
Individual experience varies in behaviour value according to
the stage of development to which any individual has progressed.
If a very young child feel hungry he will immediately go about
satisfying his hunger need. This is the stage when the child rifles
the cupboard irrespective of consequences. It is the instinctive
stage in no way different from the behaviour of any lower organism.
Later on if the parent places the good things out of its reach, it
will endeavour to obtain them -by climbing up to them ; if it cannot
get them by this means it will use a chair, and so on. This is the
MODERN BIOLOGICAL RESEARCH 117
trial and error stage that may be observed in the behaviour of the
more intelligent animals, more especially monkeys. Later the child
learns that certain needs must not be satisfied indiscriminately. It
learns this because indiscriminate satisfaction brings about punish
ment. This shows a definite learning to repress needs and is a tran
sitional stage. The child learns to repress certain needs until such
time as satisfaction may be achieved without subsequent discomfort.
The fourth stage is attained when the child becomes conscious of
himself as an individual. Now he cannot satisfy certain of his
needs because such a proceeding would be a disgrace to him as 1 an
individual among other individuals. He represses or modifies his
needs because of social pressure. At first the social pressure is re
presented by the good opinion of his parents and those immediately
about him. Later the social pressure is represented by society in
general. It is 1 at this stage that convention as a moral force has
its greatest effect.
Gradually the developing individual has tended to integrate
his early apparently formless behaviour into behaviour sets. Actually
the early behaviour was not so formless as it seemed. It was really
integrated into a quite definite behaviour set. This was integrated
about self-preservation the satisfaction of vital needs. The level
was purely instinctive. This behaviour set soon became disinte
grated by punishments meted out by critical parents and later by
critical social systems. Soon the individual responses to situations
tend to become integrated once more into numerous behaviour sets
corresponding to the various social systems with which he comes into
contact. These may be quite inconsistent with each other. The
youth s behaviour set at home might be entirely different from that
among his boon companions. The idea of what he should be in each
of these social systems constitutes a self. The growing youth has
an idea of what he should be at home and what he should be among
his boon companions. These represent his home self and his school
boy self.*
In the lower stages of evolution physiological integration is
the universal process. In the higher stages psychological integra
tion is the universal process. As maturity approaches in the normal
individual all these diverse incompatible behaviour sets tend to be
come integrated into the one behaviour set. The individual gradu
ally comes to have -a comprehensive idea of what he should do to
be consistent. He comes to have only one self. Together with this
one generalised idea of what he should do this one self he tends
to have only one behaviour set. This behaviour set may be called
*This description follows Macdougall and to a lesser extent James.
118 BEHAVIOUR IN THE LIGHT OF
his personality. By personality may be understood that capacity
possessed by the psycho physical individual for so adapting its reac
tions to situations that there ensues a satisfactory adjustment to one
another of the needs of the individual, the idea of the possible reac
tions, and the requirements of reality. The idea of the possible
reactions is the Self. Personality then represents the equilibrium of
the needs of the individual, the Self, and Reality. Character is
the quality of personality.
The individual s idea of what he should be is based on mem
ories of previous experience. Personality, or our behaviour set, is
thus also based on memories of previous experiences. The indi
vidual does not remember all his past experiences. He only remem
bers certain of them. This may be reduced to the principle that
only those experiences compatible with a personality system tend to
persist within the memory structure of that personality system as
potentially active elements. As soon as an experience becomes in
compatible with a personality system it tends either to be modir-
fied or forgotten : that is, it no longer persists unaltered within the
memory structure of that personality as a potentially active ele
ment. If incompatible experiences are not modified to become com
patible they are repressed to form another memory structure which
may become the basis of another personality system.
The highest stage of development is attained when the indi
vidual bases his idea of what he should be not on social praise or
blame but on some ideal that he has formulated for himself. He
may be compelled to adhere to this ideal at the expense of his social
popularity. Martyrs are among such people. They are the extreme
cases however. It is not usually necessary to become a martyr.
Although the ideal should not be determined by social praise or
blame, yet, to be a true ideal, it must contribute to social progress.
It should transcend the vulgar attitude but nevertheless the indi
vidual should consider his own possible influence on vulgar concep
tions. He should always endeavour to facilitate progress.
It has been said that a determinist should not preach. If the
behaviour of the individual is determined by his physical structure
it is useless to tell him what to do. It seems, however, possible to
admit determinism and yet permit teaching. There are millions of
possible combinations within the cerebral cortex. The aim of teach
ing is merely to substitute a better possible combination for one
that would otherwise result in a lower order of behaviour.
Recognition of these facts in no way detracts from the nobil
ity of Man. Nothing that lives is ignoble. Science does not deny,
but substantiates the possibility of there being one fundamental
principle determining all Life. Whether the principle be personi-
MODERN BIOLOGICAL RESEARCH 119
fied or not is a matter for individual preference. The actual prin
ciple is none the less real.
If Evolution teaches us no other lesson it should teach us our
own debt to those who lived before us to those who struggled in
grim contest with the natural forces around them in order that the
torch of Knowledge should be handed on to us. We might remem
ber the Eoman symbol of the weary messenger handing the torch on
to his rested fellow slave who was to carry it on till he too became
weary, when, in his turn, he gave it to another to carry on. We are
a nearer approach to the goal of all Life than were our forebears
who fought so stern a fight that they might give birth to those who
ultimately gave birth to us. We are the mortal bearers of an im
mortal tradition of intellect. Whatever else our philosophy, let
this doctrine find some place in it. Let us endeavour adequately to
acquit ourselves by living a nobler life, by unselfishly striving to
hand on, untarnished, the traditions which our ancestors have so
worthily handed down to us.
NOTES BY THE WAY.
No. 5.
Spiritual Healing.
Surely the Healing Ministry of Christ is to be traced, not in the
sporadic prodigies of faith-healing, which at best give results few and
uncertain even at Lourdes the cures are less than 5 per cent. but in*
the majestic and unfaltering movement of Medical Science out of its
confusing associations with magic and rudimentary religion into its
present attitude, when it challenges with waxing confidence every
malady which afflicts mankind, and brings its comfort on the wings of
Christian charity to the poorest and most necessitous of the sick. It
cannot be the duty of the Church, deliberately to return to the beliefs
and methods of a primitive and superstitious past. Rather should the
disciples of the Truth Incarnate follow the evident leadirfg of the Spirit
of Truth, support the patient labours of scientific men, welcome and
apply the knowledge which they gain, and thus, in humble obedience
to the Creator s Laws, rescue Humanity, so far as may be possible,
from the physical distress, which shadow its earthly lot.
120
THE BASIS OF MORALITY (II.)
By J. McKellar Stewart, M.A., D.Phil., Hughes Professor
of Philosophy, University of Adelaide.
IN a previous article* I outlined Dr. McDougalPs theory of
the genesis of moral conduct and character. The central point
round which the theory developes is that human volition of the
highest moral type is continuous with that interplay of instinctive
tendencies which we are accustomed to think of as constituting the
mental conditions of animal behaviour. Continuity, in this con
nection, is taken to imply that the mental conditions of specifically
moral conduct are but a more highly complex and more intimately
organised system of the same tendencies which operate at a pre-
moral stage of development. At the higher level, not only are these
tendencies more perfectly organised, they are also re-directed to
objects different in nature from those towards which they are nat
ively set. The re-direction together with growth in complexity and
degree of organisation are due mainly to two factors, the develop
ment of intelligence and the influence of the existing social en
vironment. In my first article I raised the question whether the
growth of intelligence, the power of framing abstract ideas, can be
regarded as in itself sufficient to transform instinctive tendencies,
originally non-moral, into activities of specifically moral sentiments.
The purpose of the present article is to examine the part assigned
by the theory in question to social environment in the genesis of
moral life and character.
It will, I think, be generally admitted that in his treatment of
this problem McDougall has made a valuable contribution to ethical
theory. He has provided an analysis of the processes by which the
individual enters into his social heritage. The thought of the inter
dependence between the individual and an objective system of social
principles, traditions, and rules of conduct, is one with which stud
ents of ethics are familiar. We recall Green s statement : "Without
society no persons ; this is as true as that without persons . .
there could be no such society as we know . . . Just as it is
through the action of society that the individual comes at once
practically to conceive his personality and to conceive the same
personality as belonging to others, so it is society that supplies all
the higher content to this conception, all those objects of a man s
personal interest, in living for which he lives for his own satisfac
tion, except such as are derived from the merely animal nature."f
In expounding this thought McDougall has emphasised strongly,
though not exclusively, the dependence of the individual upon his
"Sept., 1924.
^Prolegmena to Ethics, 190.
THE BASIS OF MORALITY 121
social environment. In the Preface to The Group Mind* he quotes
with approval a central passage from the essay on "My Station and
its Duties" in Bradley s Ethical Studies, the purport of the passage
being that personal morality and political and social institutions
cannot exist apart. And in the main body of the work referred to
he develops the thesis of the great and necessary part played in
human life by the group spirit. In a later work he writes : "Our
enquiry concerns, not the isolated individual man (that pale ab-
traction with which psychology has too exclusively dealt) but the
concrete men and women whose lives are but part of an organic
whole, the life of organised society, from participation in which the
individual acquires whatever value or importance he may have.
We see that the worth of his purposes, of his ideals, and of his efforts
to realise them, must be judged with reference to their effects upon
the life of society ."f Here the dependence of the individual upon
society is exclusively emphasised ; but some pages later what may be
regarded as a complementary statement appears: "The national
organisation must be such as favours the highest development of
personality; for, without such development of individuals the nation
cannot thrive."J For the present, then, it may be assumed that
the theory recognises the interdependence between the individual
and society. It is not, however, in this recognition that McDougall s
originality consists, but in the thorough-going analysis of the psycho
logical processes by which the individual appropriates the fruits
garnered in the progress of social life and lying ready to his hand
in the form of institutions 1 , traditions and rules of conduct.
While gratefully making this acknowledgment, I would still
suggest that the theory, if it be taken as an account of the "genesis
of moral conduct and character," is inadequate in certain essential
respects. In proceeding to establish this suggestion I would em
phasise the necessity of clearly defining the nature of the problem
described as an account of the genesis of moral conduct and char
acter. What we have to do is to make clear the conditions of such
conduct and character, and care must be taken that the way in which
we formulate the problem does not preclude the recognition of any
of these conditions. In the theory before us the problem of the
origin of the moral life is conceived to be that of explaining the
interaction between particular minds on the one hand and the group
or social mind on the other. The conditions elucidated are to be
found within these two factors. It may be admitted that if we take
account of the full nature of the individual mind and the social
*p. xi.
i Ethics and Some Modern World Problems. Pp. 127-128.
^Ethics and Some Modern World Problems, p. 146.
122 THE BASIS OF MORALITY
structure we shall be in a position to discover the conditions of
which we are in search. The question, then, is whether the theory
which we are discussing does justice to the full nature of these
factors.
A mind is denned as an organised system of interacting mental
or psychical forces, and, though they are fundamentally akin, the
individual mind is to be distinguished from the group mind.
"When we speak of the individual mind or character we mean the
organised system of mental or psychical forces which expresses
itself in the behaviour and consciousness of the individual man."*
Similarly, a group mind or social structure, "when it enjoys a long
life and becomes highly organised acquires a structure and qualities
which are largely independent of the qualities of the individuals
who enter into its composition and take part for a brief time in its
life. It becomes an organised system of forces which has a life of
its own, tendencies of its own, a power of moulding all its compon
ent individuals and a power of perpetuating itself as a self-identical
system, subject only to slow and gradual change."f Assuming the
existence of the individual mind, possessing, to begin with, its in
herited structure and instinctive processes and its rudimentary in
telligence ; assuming also the existence of a social mind in the sense
described in the preceding quotation, the moralisation of the indi
vidual is to be explained by the moulding influence of the group
mind. The process by which moral judgments come to be formed
and moral character built has been analysed in The Introduction to
Social Psychology; it has been further elaborated in The Group
Mind. In a more recent work entitled Ethics and some Modern
World Problems, this central thesis is insisted upon. It is affirmed
that "nations are the bearers of culture and moral tradition," and
it is held to be a fact that "each m an attains to whatever morality
he may display in virtue only of his coming under the influence
of the moral tradition. "J Taken in their context these statements
are to be understood to mean that organised society, particularly
the nation, of which -an individual is a member, gives the individual,
in Bradley s phrase, the life he does live and ought to live. The
question is whether the theory takes into account all that is included
in a mind or self and all that is included in a social structure.
We may work our way forward to -an answer to this important
question by a consideration of the analysis of volition which forms
a part of the theory. While a distinction is drawn between conative
and volitional effort, it is maintained that the effort of volition as
*T7?0 Group Mind, p. 101.
SEtMcs and Some Modern World Problems, pp. 145 and 149.
THE BASIS OF MORALITY 123
compared with that of conation "involves no new principles of
activity and energy, but only a more subtle and complex interplay
of those impulses which actuate all animal behaviour and in which
the ultimate mystery of mind and life resides."* Volitions are re
garded as a particular class of conations, their distinguishing feat
ure being the part played by impulses arising within the self- regard
ing sentiment. "The essential mark of volition/ he writes, "that
which distinguishes it from simple desire, or simple conflict of de
sires is that the personality as a whole, or the central feature or
nucleus of the personality, the man himself, or all that is regarded
by himself and others as the most essential part of himself, is thrown
upon the side of the weaker motive." f Again, "in the typical case
of volition a man s self, in some peculiarly intimate sense of the
word self, is thrown upon the side of the motive that is made to
prevail."! In discussing the psychological process by which the
reinforcement of a particular desire by the personality as a whole
takes place, he argues that it is not enough that the idea of the self
shall be held in the focus of consciousness ; the self must be the ob
ject of a sentiment. "The idea of the self, or self -consciousness,
is able to play its great role in volition, only in virtue of the self-
regarding sentiment, the system of emotional and conative dis
positions that is organised about the idea of the self and is always
brought into play to some extent when the idea of the self rises to
the focus of consciousness. ^ Volition assumes the moral form in
the case of what is termed collective volition, the essence of which
is "the motivation of the wills of all members of a group by impulses
awakened within the common sentiment for the whole of which
they are parts."**
In this account of volition emphasis falls upon the part played
by the whole personality, but we have to ask what is this self or per
sonality, the idea of which and the sentiment for which is regarded
as the determining factor in the act of volition? The answer is
that it is the self as identified with the traditions, institutions and
rules of conduct of the individual s social circle. The idea of the
self is mediated to the individual by his social setting, mirrored to
the individual mind from a "gallery"; and the sentiment for this
self is elicited by the regards, attitudes and actions of the "gallery"
towards the object with which the individual identifies himself as
well as towards him individually. "Moral advance and the develop
ment of volition consist .... in the development of the self-
*$oci t al Psychology, p. 231.
tlbid, p. 240.
tlbid. p. 246.
l&oetol Psychology, pp. 247-8.
** Group Mind, p. 55.
124 THE BASIS OF MORALITY
regarding sentiment and in the improvement or refinement of the
gallery before which we display ourselves, the circle which is cap
able to invoke in us this impulse of self display; and this refine
ment may be continued until the gallery 7 becomes an ideal spectator
or group of spectators, or, in the last resort, one s own critical self
standing as the representative of such spectators."* McDougall
does not lose sight of the fact that an individual may, as he expresses
it, "stand iapart from his group and from the whole of organised
society, defying the general opinion and the forcibly expressed com
mon sentiments, and saying, You -are mistaken ; this is right and I
will do it. . . ". Such cases may, however, he thinks, be
brought within his principle of explanation. "The man who stands
up against the prevailing public opinion and sentiment is the man
who has found some higher court of appeal . . . This court,
this tribunal, may be his particular moral hero or select group of
heroes; it may be his dead mother, or his best friend; it may be
what he believes to be the group consisting of the best men of all
ages; it may be the Christian saints, or it may be God."f In every
case, then, the idea of the self, its content, and the sentiment for
the self are alike communicated to the individual by a social circle
more or less select, more or less refined.
While it may be heartily admitted that in this account of voli
tion much light is thrown on the processes by which individuals are
socialised, and while it may be agreed that socialisation of some form
is historically coincident with moral development, still as an ac
count of moral volition the account is radically defective. The de
fect lies in the omission from the analysis of one essential condition
of self-hood. What that condition is we shall presently see. In
the meantime let us consider the way in which the problem is set :
thus we shall see how the omission is to be explained. The analysis
proceeds not from the stand-point of the moral self, but from that
of the social environment. The consequence is that the self is inter
preted as it may be conceived to be seen, or to add itself, through
the eyes of an external spectator, and as it dances to the piping from
a gallery. It makes no essential difference whether the spectator
who calls the tune be the mass of mankind, a select group, an ad
mired person or God. In every case alike the self sees itself through
the eyes of another and is acted upon rather than active. Thus
the whole development of the life of the self is represented as hap
pening through the interplay of phenomena instincts, sentiments,
institutions, traditions and so on. The individual self is represented
as a sort of psychological atom, a system of mental or psychological
* Social Psychology, p. 257.
t Outline of Psychology, p. 441.
THE BASIS OF MORALITY 125
forces. This unit or atom is conceived to be set in relation to units
fundamentally similar in structure, and also in relation to a larger,
more enduring, self-identical system of forces a single continu
ously evolving organism the group mind. The inevitable conse
quence of this way of picturing the self is that the conditions of
the moral life are sought for in the inter-action of these entities.
The individual mind or self is conceived to become moralised by the
influence from without of other selves and the social organism. This
one or that of its existing forces is modified, reinforced, and re
directed under the constraint of external forces, represented in
idea, which gain their point of contact, so to speak, through such
psychological phenomena as emotional induction and sympathetic
contagion. The self as a whole does nothing this or that force is
acted upon; and the mode of reaction is determined by the nature
and strength of the social force combined with the relative strength
of the respective elements which constitute the native endowment
of the individual. Further, whatever unity and organisation the
system of forces which is believed to constitute the individual or
self may attain, is in the last resort determined by the nature of
the object to which the dominating force is re-directed under the
influence of the self-identical social system. Thus the whole pro
cess is reduced to the interaction of phenomena.
I must confess that I am considerably perplexed as to what
precisely is McDougall s view of the relation between the individual
and any social whole. In the Preface of The Group Mind he quotes
approvingly Bradley s view in this matter ; in Chapter XI he rejects
the view of Bosanquet, who himself has more than once acknow
ledged his indebtedness to Bradley, and who in regard to the subject
in question has developed a theory which is substantially the same
as Bradley s; then in Chapter XX he propounds a view of the re
lation between the individual and the state which I am unable to
differentiate in its main features from that which he previously at
tributed to Bosanquet and rejected. He seems to oscillate between
an extreme individualism and a view according to which the indi
vidual is entirely subordinated to the social Whole. One main
tendency, however, reveals itself throughout the work, namely, to
substantiate both the individual and the social whole and to set them
over against one another. But it must be protested that if we thus
substantiate the self and the social structure, all our subsequent
thought is vitiated by the initial error of treating fictions, psycho
logical abstractions, as if they were concrete realities. It may seem
a hard saying that the self with which we are faced in McDougall s
theory is a psychological abstraction. For he has been forward
amongst those who have recently been pleading for a more concrete
126 THE BASIS OF MORALITY
treatment of psychological problems. He tells us that "until the lat
ter decades of the nineteenth century, psychology continued to
concern itself almost exclusively with the mind of man conceived
in an abstract fashion, not as the mind of any particular individual,
but as the mind of a representative individual considered in abstrac
tion from his social setting, as something given to our contempla
tion fully formed and complete"* ; and he has insisted that we can
understand the life of individuals only if we come to consider them
in relation to the life of societies. The individual self, as the more
concrete psychology for which McDougall pleads understands it, has
existence only in relation to a whole of which it is a member. With
this conception of the individual and the plea based upon it I am in
hearty accord. But in developing his theory of the socialisation of
the individual, the sound conception referred to seems to be lost
sight of, and the argument proceeds as if the individual self as a
system of impulses, or as a structural unit to the operation of which
impulsive processes are due, existed, as it were, in its own right.
This becomes more apparent if we approach the theory from the
stand-point of the place and function of the social structure in the
moralisation of the individual. It would not be quite true to say
that a social whole is consistently regarded as having an existence
independently of the individuals who enter into its composition.
But it is I think, undoubtedly true that such a whole is conceived to
have, as to its essential structure, such an independent existence.
It has, we are told, a life of its own; it has tendencies of its
own; it has a power of moulding all its component in
dividuals and a power of perpetuating itself as ia self-
identical system. Surely the possession of such characteristics
would constitute it a self-sustaining entity, completely independ
ent of the individuals whom it moulds. In passing it may be ob
served how extremes meet: this view of the status of the social
organism is almost identical with that expounded by Bosanquet,
who points to the social fabric, the great structures in which spir
itual achievement takes shape, e.g., knowledge, fine art, historical
continuity of the constitution of & country; and he maintains that
the continuous lines and articulated framework of such solid fabrics
constitute the certain, intelligible and necessary thing in human
life.f The importance of the truth at which these two thinkers
have arrived by very different routes 1 must not be allowed to blind
us to the dangers which lurk in their statement of that truth. We
frankly recognise that the individual is peculiarly dependent upon
enduring in some sense super-individual structures such as those
* Group Mind, p. 2.
^ Value and Destiny of the Individual, pp. 53-4.
THE BASIS OF MORALITY 137
to which the theories before us point. It would, I think, be true
to say that from these the individual derives his concrete nature.
But if we are to be thorough-going in the development of the con
ception which McDougall has insisted upon in psychological inves
tigation, we shall maintain that these structures have their reality
only ias they are sustained by the thought, enthusiasm, and effort
of individual persons. In particular we shall resist any tendency
to set the individual and such structures over against each other,
to regard them as in any sense external to each other.
The tendency in the theory under consideration so to externalise
the individual and the social structure results in the position that
we are not furnished with any unifying bond between individuals
and society which shall be internal to both and which shall explain
at once the acceptance by the individual of the social tradition,
insofar as he does volitionally accept it, and his critical attitude to
wards it. The social tradition does not come to the individual
with its claims as something alien or external ; he has the conviction
that something within himself goes out, so to speak, to meet, to
recognise and welcome these claims. That is one fact. Another is
that most clearly in the ease of the more highly evolved societies,
the individual claims and exercises the right of criticising the exist
ing social structure and tradition. It is these facts that the doc
trine of the General Will was elaborated to explain. It is not my
intention to enter here upon a discussion of this historic theory. I
believe that the phrase, general will, has not been wisely chosen,
for an act of will is always an act of a self or individual. At the
same time it seems to me tbat the theory has emphasised an unde
niable element or factor in the activity of the moral will. I refer
to what has been historically known as the Ideal. This is not just
one item of experience, one phenomenon, like an idea or an im
pulse or a sentiment; it is a true universal, pervasive, in moral
experience, of such particular items. It is constitutive of the moral
self, regulative in moral experience; its operative presence means
rationality, humanity, the aspirations and efforts of the specifically
human being. It is translated by thought into principles, such
translation appearing to be a necessary condition of its effective
control and regulation of conduct. It is of supreme importance
to observe that as in the case of the Ideal, so in the case of a prin
ciple, we are in the presence not of an idea merely, nor of an idea set,
as it were, within a sentiment; we have here something unique,
which cannot be better described than as a power giving birth to ten
dencies which restrain this or that instinctive impulse or desire; a
power which permeates, transfigures and harmonises such impulses
and desires. Its presence, as we have said, in the experience of
128 THE BASIS OF MORALITY
the individual gives rise to tendencies or impulses gener-
ically distinct from the tendencies or impulses of the in
stincts of recent psychological theory. Its tendencies bring
into subjection, for their own ends, all the tendencies of these nat
ural systems. Further, and this is a fact of outstanding signifi
cance, the power which I have spoken of as a principle leaps over
the boundaries which separate self from self. These are boun
daries, not barriers, and in overleaping them there is no need for
the principle to destroy them. The same principle may function
in the minds of two or any number of individuals, and yet respect
the privacy, the boundedness of each; indeed the existence of
boundaries means enrichment; for the mode of operation of the
principle will differ in different cases according to the temperament,,
the natural endowment, the significant environment of the indi
vidual. Thus its operation means anything but routine and uni
formity ; it means inexhaustible differences. The purposes in which
it actively defines itself are truly common purposes, but not in the
sense that they assume precisely the same form in the different
minds to which they are common. They are common in that they
spring from the one source and move towards the one far end.
Principles thus understood play no part in McDougalPs theory.
Such principles only progressively express in thought and conduct
the nature of the Ideal Eight. It is true, as regards both thought
and moral aspiration, that our reach always exceeds our grasp. But
any account of the conditions of the moral life which omits to give
them the central place is to be regarded as radically inadequate;
it leaves out the elements which are internally constitutive of
moral personality, internally constitutive also of a social whole.
In the course of experience the principles to which reference
has been made are translated into social habits, rules of conduct,
institutions, social traditions. One might say that they constitute
the body which these principles, active in individual minds or spirits,
fashion for themselves. However we may describe them, they re
present the achievement of the human spirit in its essential social
aspect. In them such (achievement is consolidated, and thus they
constitute the social environment of the individual. The individual
may respond to this environment in the first instance by unreflect-
ively following the rules of conduct, performing the modes of con
duct which they prescribe ; and, in so far as they faithfully embody
the nature of the Ideal, he attains a form of moral life. This form
of life is secondarily or derivatively moral and it is the form
of life to which McDougalPs attention is in the main, if not exclus
ively, directed. It may be admitted further that historically this
unreflective response is a preliminary to actively and distinctively
THE BASIS OF MORALITY 129
spontaneous moral conduct. It will be remembered that Plato
counselled the surrounding of youth with "fair sights and sounds,"
confident that "beauty, the effluence of fair works," would "meet
the sense like a breeze, and insensibly draw the soul, even in child
hood, into harmony with the beauty of K-eason." Similarly in the
more specifically ethical sphere, provided that the social habits,
rules, institutions faithfully express ethical principles, "insensible"
response to them on the part of the individual prepares him for the
welcome of the ideal when later it shall define itself in reflective
consciousness. When the latter stage is attained the individual par
ticipates 1 in the spirit which vitalises his social environment, sym
pathetically appreciates the principles which are internal to that
environment, which pervade and sustain it. Now he not only al
lows himself to be moulded by his environment, he also makes his
personal contribution to its structure, shaping, sometimes reshaping
it from within his guiding motive the principles which have been
operative in shaping that structure hitherto. He had passed from
conventional to relatively independent moral life, from secondary
to primary, from derivative to original.
What I have been concerned to emphasise in this necessarily
short discussion is the universal factor in the moral self, and
through moral selves in social wholes. The presence of this uni
versal factor alone explains conformity to the requirements of the
social whole when such conformity is other than externally con
strained; it alone explains the critical attitude of the moral indi
vidual to the institutions and social habits which surround him.
It cannot, without loss, be neglected in any attempt to set forth the
conditions of morality. My criticism of McDougall s position is that
this factor is consistently overlooked. It finds no place in his ac
count of the development of the self-regarding sentiment. One
looks for it in vain in his analysis of volition, individual or collective.
The idea of the group spirit is developed in independence of it.
The result is that self and social whole are merely cemented to
gether ; their vital unity remains, if not unrecognised, unexplained.
In conclusion, I desire to call attention to what seems the in
ability of McDougall to grasp the nature of the universal. This
appears most prominently perhaps in his recent book, entitled
Ethics and Some Modern World Problems, although it may also
eerve to explain what has (not, I think, too harshly) been described
as his "parody of Bosanquet" in the eleventh chapter of the Group
Mind* In the later work on Ethics Kant s well-known formula:
"So act as to treat humanity, whether in thine own person or in
*|Muirhead : Recent Criticism of tJie Idealist Theory of the General Will.
Mind, April, 1924, p. 175.
130 THE BASIS OF MORALITY
that of another, always as an end, never as a means" is presented in
the form, "Treat no man as a means, but every man as an end in
himself." This is an unpardonable distortion on the part of any
one who claims a voice in matters of Ethical Theory. Taken in its
context, it completely reverses Kant s teaching. It is another
example of that apparent inability to which reference has been made.
When we turn to consider the substance of the work before us, we
find that its imam argument is based upon a confusion as to what
universality means. A contrast is drawn between universal and
national systems of ethics, and it is maintained that these systems
have historically been in conflict and still remain unreconciled.
The thesis is worked out in an interesting way with a wealth of
illustration. Limits of space forbid any attempt to follow the
arguments here; I shall content myself with referring briefly to the
conception of universality in ethics which controls the development
of the theme. To put it shortly, universality is taken to imply
uniformity, the elimination of differences. That this is so may be
shown by reference to the treatment of Christian Ethics, which our
author takes as >an outstanding instance of universal ethics. The
central precepts of this system are formulated as follows : "That we
always turn the other cheek to the smiter ; that we always and every
where subordinate our own welfare, and that of those nearest us,
to the welfare of those who are further from us ; that we regard all
men as created equal and as of equal value ; that every man shall be
treated only as an end in himself and never as a means ; that all men
have an equal share to all that is worth having."* The practice of
such precepts would involve the neglect of such differences as exist
amongst individuals and groups of individuals, and a dismal picture
is drawn of the future of a world in which conduct became con
trolled by such teaching. I cannot resist quoting the passage in
which McDougall condenses his argument in this connection : "The
universal individualist ethics, carried to its logical conclusion, de
mands that the whole of mankind form one society, without national
boundaries and without racial distinctions. And it requires that
this vast society shall be organised on the principles of communism.
All men shall share equally in the fruits of the earth and in the pro
ducts of human thought and human labour. Suppose this state of
affairs to be established and maintained, every man practising faith
fully the principles of strict communism and of brotherly love,
always postponing his own claims and interests to those of his
fellow-men. If we make this impossible supposition, we shall see
that in this earthly paradise there would prevail a differential repro-
+Ethics and Some Modern World Problems, p. 124.
THE BASIS OF MORALITY 131
duction-rate .... The prevalence throughout a brief period
of such differential reproduction would exterminate all higher as
pirations ; it would produce throughout the world a population that
would spend all its leisure jigging to the jolly strains of jazz-bands,
gazing at sensational trivial movies, and applauding the heroes of
the milder forms of gladiatorial combat. After a brief space of
time the Fatty Arbuckles, the Charlie Chaplins, the Babe Kuths,
and the Queens of the Musical Eevue would reign supreme as the
beneficent dispensers of the preferred pleasures of the populace.
Such would be the result of the universal practice of Universal
Ethics."*
The hypothetical prediction thus expressed does not call for
consideration here; neither is it in place to question whether the
precepts referred to are central to, or even form part of, Christian
Ethics. I have quoted both precepts and prediction solely with a
view to bringing out the defective idea of universality which dom
inates the discussion. The universal is regarded as a leveller of dif
ferences, a remover of boundaries, a destroyer of particulars. This
may be true of an abstraction ; it is certainly not true of a universal.
When we speak of a universal factor of the moral life, we mean
that this factor is indispensable if morality is to exist at all. We
do not mean that this is the only factor which enters into moral
activity; on the contrary, its existence as >an element in such activ
ity is inextricably bound up with other elements, those of particu
larity, of which it is pervasive. Its operation as an agent in the
moral life presupposes dispositions, variety of natural endowment,
racial differences; far from requiring the elimination of these, its
essential function is, by permeating them, to raise them to a higher
level the level of the spiritual life. In the performance of this its
essential function it removes barriers, but it respects boundaries,
the boundaries which differentiate individual from individual, com
munity from community, race from race. That being so, it is an
error either in theory or in practice to oppose Universal and
National Ethics as two systems of ethics. There can be in the
nature of the case only one system of ethics, since there are con
ditions which are indispensible and internal to the moral life wher
ever and whenever it is attained. These conditions are universal,
and they became increasingly clear as insight grows into the object
ive spiritual reality which we are accustomed to call the Ideal.
*Ethics and Some Modern World Problems, pp. 111-112.
132
DISCUSSION-DR, HALDANE S RELIGION.
By Bernard Muscio, M.A., Professor of Philosophy,
University of Sydney.
In his interesting and valuable article in last December s issue of
this Journal, Dr. J. S. Haldane states his view of the only possible
religion compatible with science. This religion, although Dr. Haldane
is unable to belong to any Christian church or to accept Christian
Theology in any of its forms, is identified by him with "the essence of
the Gospel which Jesus proclaimed" (p. 242). Two questions then nat
urally arise. (1) The first is whether or not Dr. Haldane s interpre
tation of the "essence" of Christianity is correct. This question I shall
not discuss; but it may be said incidentally that an "essentialist" would
be apparently the opposite of a "fundamentalist." (2) The second con
cerns the philosophical adequacy of Dr. Haldane s religion (indepen
dently of the question whether this religion is identical with the essence
of Christianity or not). Upon 4 this second question some remarks seem
to be called for.
We have to ask, in the first place, what Dr. Haldane s religion is.
He tells us that "The very basis of religion is the fact that this uni
verse is a spiritual universe" (p. 242). Now an essential part (though
presumably not the whole) of what Dr. Haldane means by this is that
the "universe itself is with us in our struggle. To use the language of
the Christian religion, God is in us arid the persons and things around
us" (p. 233). The idea thus expressed is repeated. "Just as we ex
perience our interests ... we also experience the fact that our
surrounding universe is with us in the realisation of these interests.
. . . We find ourselves in fellowship with others and with Nature:
we are not mere individuals in a foreign environment: our environ
ment itself co-operates with us" (p. 237). "The great merits of Hippo
crates" (the Greek medical genius) is said to have been this: he saw
"that Nature, far from being indifferent to human interests, furthers
them continuously .... To him Nature appeared as a healer
and a sustainer of life not as something indifferent to life" (p. 234).
And it is argued that we rely upon Nature at every turn: it is Nature
that assimilates our food for us, that "regulates" our breathing or
excretory processes" (p. 237), and that performs the thousand and one
other things that must be done if we are to live. Because of all this,
the religious attitude towards Nature, God, the Universe (all three
identified with one another) is possible, irideed, inevitable. Science
shews that a beneficent healing principle governs our lives, and hence
we may say, in religious language, that "God is in us all and every
where around us" (p. 242).
The view indicated in the foregoing quotations is not urifamiliar;
but, understood in Dr. Haldane s sense, it appears quite destitute of
theoretic justification. My objection to it is that, like most views
whose primary significance is intended to be practical, it depends upon
DR. HALDANE S RELIGION 133
a biassed selection of facts. There are doubtless facts which har
monise with this view; but there are others which do riot namely, all
those facts falling under the head of evil.
Consider disease. In what way does disease "further our inter
ests"? How is "the environment co-operating" with the man who finds
himself say at the age of 25 a victim of cancer? Or with those
tens of thousands whom an earthquake sends to a sudden arid horrible
death? "Fellowship . . . with Nature"! "Nature . . . healer
and sustainer of life"! Nature, no doubt, does assimilate our food for
us (if we are not dyspeptic) and regulates our 1 breathing (if we do not
have phthisis); but its (or her or his) ministrations to our interests
hardly operate "continuously." We drink milk and are nourished (as a
rule) ; but was Nature asleep or away on a journey when we drarik
the water that gave us typhoid?
It is not possible even for Dr. Haldane to describe the situation
(with his own selected facts chiefly in view) without denying the very
position that is being maintained. The "universe itself is with us in
our struggle" (we are told). "Struggle"? What have "we" to do with
struggle if the "universe" is with us? Anything against which we had
to struggle would be a part of the Universe, and, since the Universe is
with us, this would be with us too. As there is nothing outside the
Universe, the conception of struggle, with reference to human beings
supposed to have the Universe on their side, is unintelligible. "Man
and the universe" on one side, and something else on the other side, is
an impossible, a chaotic, conception.
I do not deny that the facts of life are such that certain features
of life may appropriately be described as a struggle. My point is
that we cannot say both that life is a struggle and that the "universe"
is with us; and that, if we say the former, the latter has strictly
no meaning. Dr. Haldane speaks two languages one that of dualism,
the other that of monism. And these two languages simply cannot be
spoken together. If the facts indicated by the word struggle are real,
it is misleading to say that the universe is on our side. It could still
be said, as religion has commonly said, that "God" is with us; but a
distinction would then be implied between "God" and the "universe."
Dr. Haldane makes no such distinction. Similarly, we might say that
"Nature" is with us; but we should then have to distinguish between
"Nature" and the "universe," and to determine, far more precisely than
we do at present, what falls -within Nature and what falls without
Nature. We should, no doubt, put typhoid, cancer, leprosy, small-pox,
phthisis, earthquakes, cyclones, snakes, scorpions, and bull-dog ants,
for instance, outside Nature; we should say also that death at 80 Is
natural whereas death at 25 is not; and many other things, equally
anthropocentric and arbitrary. Dr. Haldane himself, though incon
sistently with his main contention, distinguishes between Nature and
the universe, for he tells us that "Nature is always tending ....
to repel infection and other harmful influences" (p. 234). The universe
134 DR. HALDANE S RELIGION
thus is admitted to contain harmful as well as beneficial influences
with reference, that is, to us. How then can it be said to be "with us
in our struggle"?
It has sometimes been held that evil is illusion, and that if we
could see it in proper perspective, we should realise that this is so. Dr.
Haldane, however, adopts no such theory. For him physical disease
(riot to mention "moral disease") is a real evil: there are "harmful
influences" in the universe. It thus seems that part of the basis of his
rational religion would have to be a distinction between God and the
universe. But this would mean dualism, and as I understand Dr.
Haldane s philosophy, it is utterly opposed to dualism. That philosophy
is a monism, and also a special kind of monism spiritual, not mechani
cal. "The world," says Dr. Haldane, "is the manifestation of one God
in spite of all superficial appearances" (p. 241). But with such a
philosophy, all reference to "struggle" and "harmful influences" is
out of place. Evil is illusion.
There is another aspect of the matter. When Dr. Haldane talks
of the universe being with us he seems to neglect altogether the exist
ence of differences and conflicts of human interests. This applies both
to groups and to individuals. Dr. Haldane s religion "calls us" (among
other things) to fight in our country s "just battles" (p. 243). It would
thus appear that the universe is only with those of us who are in the
right, fighting battles that are "just." This complicates the position
considerably and introduces dualism once more. In any case, the
matter is complicated enough through the mere divergence of the
interests of fighting and struggling groups. The universe is with "us,"
I suppose Dr. Haldane to mean, as "the human race," not with "us" as
"this particular ethnological group" or "this political party." That
being so, it would be much simpler if human interests were perfectly
harmonious. Conflict of desires and impulses within the one indi
vidual presents the same problem. Is the universe with an unscrupu
lous self-preservative instinct or only with socially-useful instincts?
Spinoza conceived the universe as "governed" by laws which have
not in themselves the slightest regard for human interests and desires.
This conception, it may be said, can no longer be retained in view of
all those facts, even though they are not all the facts there are, which
Dr. Haldane has chiefly in min r d: such facts as that food (on the whole)
does nourish us, and that some of us find ourselves "at home" in the
world. But it is easy to exaggerate the significance of these facts.
Since we are here that is, those of us who are possessing life and
consciousness, those conditions must exist which allow of us being
here: that is, our food must nourish us (more or less). Existence
itself is woriderful enough; but given a particular kind of existence,
there is nothing at all wonderful in the fact that there must have been
the conditions necessary for that particular kind of existence. The
mere fact that Nature supports our life when it does is no proof that
Nature is "with us," any more than the existence of the typhoid
REVIEWS 135
bacillus is a proof that Nature wishes it to prosper and to have its
interests satisfied. The principle of Dr. Haldan e s argument would
prove that the universe is on the side of anything whatever that exists.
On what side will the universe be if and when the sun cools down?
Is .not our eating of a chop when we wish to be nourished similar in
principle to our applyin g a match to wood when we wish to cook the
chop? In both cases we act so as to utilise natural law for our own
purposes. The chop may cause ptomaine poisoning, and the fire may
burn down the house. Before we can "apply" them, we have to learn
the "laws" of physiology just as we have to learn the laws of chemistry
and physics. But natural laws are not "operated" for man s interests,
rior are they always in accord with man s interests. And the relevant
facts here are so obvious that they do not need to be mentioned. In
view of the primary significance of these facts, the question of their
interpretation whether they shall be called mechanical, vital, or
spiritual is of no practical, and therefore of no religious, consequence.
Disease and earthquakes occur, with their toll of life, whether we call
the universe mechanical or spiritual. And when one thinks of Keats
and John Hunter, and of such as these, Dr. Haldane s religion appears
as the religion of a recluse from life, and Spinoza s conception as the
only possible conception.
REVIEWS
Vllth INTERNATIONAL CONGRESS OF PSYCHOLOGY PRO
CEEDINGS AND PAPERS. (Ed. by the President, Dr. C. S. Myers,
Camb. Univ. Press. 1924. Price 12/6 net).
Held at Oxford from July 26th to August 2rid, 1923, this important
Congress was, memorably enough, the first scientific gathering since
1914 at which representatives of former belligerents have met to dis
cuss objective problems without prejudice. In spite of the successful
co-operation which marked the assembly, it must have caused the
President no little anxiety and made no small demands upon the tact
and capacity for organisation for which he has become notable. Upon
the result, Dr. Myers is to be congratulated, for these "Proceedings
and Papers" are the most valuable contribution made to the literature
of psychology for some time.
Those interested in the rather pressing problem of "intelligence"
will find a symposium upon "The Nature of General Intelligence and
Ability." Dr. Godfrey H. Thompson! defends a view opposed to the
"General Factor" theory of Professor Spearman. Perhaps the most
interesting of the three contributions to this symposium is that of
Dr. L. L. Thurstone, who makes a very successful attempt to render
the various grades of ideas in terms of the degree of incompleteness
of anticipated experience. Professor Claparede is the other contributor.
He would restrict the application of the term "General Intelligence"
as used by Spearman.
136 REVIEWS
There follows a scholarly paper by Professor Koehler on* "The
Problem of Form in Perception."
A contribution which will arouse great interest is that of Dr. G,
Re"ve~sz, "Experiments on Animal Space Perception." The dominance
of optical stimuli in the pecking reflex of the hen is established ex
perimentally. Hens cease to peck when darkness replaces illumina
tion*. Further they can only peck after they have aimed: it seems that
a hen can have its beak in a bowl of grain and yet be unable to feed.
This paper is a model of experimental procedure and contains many
good things.
The interesting distinction between "protopathic" and epicritic"
sensibility drawri by Head and Rivers, and the important conclusions
inferred from it have been brought in question, as is known. Here
Professor Boring of Harvard expresses himself critically in that regard.
He and other American investigators did not find in fact this sharp
division between two kinds of sensibility, orie earlier and one later,
the later one normally inhibiting the earlier. On the contrary, they
found continuity in returning sensibility. Further, while Head and
Rivers report that two points cannot be discriminated in "protopathic"
sensibility, Boring s experiments indicate that there was no significant
alteration of the two-point limen while sensitivity was returning.
In Dr. Georges Dwelshauvers paper upon "The Objective Regis
tration of Mental Imagery," one is surprised to read "Nous n avoris pas
rencontre" d images musculaires." It would seem that what has been
demonstrated here is the existence of unconscious movements object
ively determined rather than the non-existence of muscular images.
This goes to show that the objective method alone cannot give a full
account of the facts.
A paper by Miss Ikin, Professor Pear, and Dr. Thouless gives the
results obtained from applying the psycho-galvanic method to dream
analysis. It is held that not all the association which arise during
dream analysis are equally significant. The aim is to provide a
means for showing which associations are significant, seeing that it
cannot be assumed that significant associations will always reveal
their significance to the subject by their emotional tone.
In a paper entitled "Does Progress in Educational and Social Science
depend upon Progress in Psychology?" Dr. Keatinge finds that at
least a close connection exists between certain relatively new pro
blems of education and the more recent developments of psychology.
Dr. Ballard in regard to the same subject says that "A study of modern
developments in education and psychology reveals similar trends in
"both; such as a transfer of interest from the intellect to the emotions,
from faculties to instincts, from the conscious to the unconscious. But
a trend of this kind begins just as frequently on the educational as on
the psychological side. In fact the more imperative needs of education
not only force certain problems upon pure psychology, but in a large
measure determine its line of development." He thinks that "the
most hopeful contribution [of psychology to education"] is that of
mental measurement. It is not unlikely," he says, "that psychology will
REVIEWS 137
prove of greater service in the examination hall than in the lecture-
room: that it will improve testin g more than it will improve teaching."
Professor Henri Pi6ron makes a very able analysis in his contri
bution upon "The Psychological Problems of the Perception of Time,"
and is followed by a very different yet interesting treatment of "The
Judgment of Time in Sleep," by Miss Mary Sturt.
In spite of a certain verbiage, one approaches with respect for his
wide experience, the summary by Dr. Morton Prince upon "A Biological
Theory of Consciousness." One finds oneself agreeing with the genetic
view that consciousness begins in sentience, passes through a con
sciousness which is not self-awareness to definite self-corisciousness.
It also seems true that in human consciousness all of these stages
are to be found existing. Especially does he find this noticeable in ab
normal conditions.
Dr. Thouless provides a paper on "The Psychology of the Contem
plative Life," his purpose being "to present a psychological study of
mystical development in different religions, and to find out how far an
adequate account of this can be given in terms of current psychological
conceptions." The Rev. Canon Streeter follows this with a paper on
"Religion and Psycho-neurosis." He discusses the hypothesis "that
man s idea of God is ... a projection upon the Universe of that
passionate need for a parent s protection which he felt so often when
a helpless and frightened child, continued or revived under the stress
and strain of later life." The treatment of the subject is acute arid
sensible.
There is no questioning the interest with which psychologists
watch for the results of neurological research. This interest will as
sure a welcome for the Symposium on "The Conception of Nervous
and Mental Energy." Dr. Adrian s contribution is made wholly from
the point of view of the psysiologist. Dominated by the traditional con
ception of energy in physical science, he finds little use for the term
"nelrvous energy" as distinct firom nervous impulse. Dr. Head s
paper is more that of the neurologist, and the neurologist with a good
knowledge of psychology. His conception of "vigilance," or the state
of high-grade psysiological efficiency which, being reduced by lesiori,
debility, or toxaemia, drastically affects responses, seems highly sug
gestive for the psychology of behaviour. Otherwise useful automatisms
are detrimentally affected by lowered vigilance. One cannot detail
here all the important conceptions which he introduces and applies,
but one does naturally wonder what place Dr. Head will find for the
fact recently established by the late lamented Professor John Hunter,
of Sydney, that impulses from the sympathetic nervous system have
much to do with muscle tone. This fact must have far-reaching con
sequences for some of the problems discussed by Dr. Head in this
paper. Contrary to Dr. Adrian, Dr. Myers, the third contributor to
this symposium, will hold to the conception of "nervous energy," even
though it be not directly measurable in terms of mass arid velocity.
Dr. Myers says: "What I wish to suggest is that there are two different
138 REVIEWS
systems governing nervous and muscular activity the one concerned
in the development of muscular contractions, ungraded and susceptible
of exhaustion, the other concerned in the development of muscular
posture and tone, graded and susceptible of adaptation. " This view
seems to have been confirmed by the surgical results obtained last
year by Dr. Royle and the late Professor Hunter.
After a discussion of "The General Form of Mental Activity" by
Dr. Sjoebring, there succeeds one by Dr. E. Mira Lopez, in which is
announced the use, when measuring cardiovascular changes during
mental work, of Pachon s more delicate recording process, the oscillo-
graphic method instead of the usual plethysmographic method.
The great French psychiatrist, Pierre Janet, who is said to have
scored a personal triumph in the discussions at the Congress, con
tributes a paper upon "Psychic Asthenia and Atony." Reierring to the
symposium on "Nervous an d Mental Energy" he says: "Nos succes-
seurs pourront probablement un jour exprimer par un chiffre l e"nergie
mental d un homme, comme on determine son poids et sa taille." He
then proceeds to discuss the question of mental energy from the patho
logical point of view.
C. H. Griffitts and W. B. Pillsbury give an account of "An Experi
ment on Indirect Measures of Fatigue." They "chose for test three
widely different functions: blood pressure, steadiness of hand, and
the attention wave."
Dr. Drever and Dr. Ernest Jones contribute separate discussions of
the vexed question of "The Classification of the Instincts." Dr.
Drever rejects the popular biological division of instincts into the
three groups of ego, sex, and herd instincts, dismissing it as too allur
ing. He advocates the use rather of psychological principles of classi
fication. These are for him three and are as follow: (1) relative
specificity of evoking stimulus and resulting response, (2) origination
and termination of impulsion within the sphere of the affective or
without, (3) relation to emotion. Dr. Ernest Jones, as might be ex
pected, defends the Freudian grouping of sexual and ego instincts.
Dr. MacCurdy, discussing "Instincts and Images" suggests that the
so-called unconscious processes "consist fundamentally in successions
of images constituting the freest of all possible associations."
It is interesting to note that, while many hypnotists find "passes"
quite unnecessary, Dr. Alrutz considering "The Psychological Import
ance of Hypnotism," says that "downward passes lower the sensibility,
upward ones heighten it." Further, he finds some substances "trans
parent" to the influence of passes, others "opaque" to that influence.
Dr. Karl Abraham, in discussing "Early Infantile Thinking," em
phasises the valuable consideration of the marked subjective character
of early thinking and the entire absence of critical, evaluating thought.
On the other hand, Dr. Adler, in his paper on "Advances in Indi
vidual Psychology" shows equally cogently the effect upon the indi
vidual s psychology of early nurture, which induces a sense of super-
REVIEWS 139
iority which the individual cannot maintain, or a sense of inferiority
which he cannot tolerate. "Das Kind findet in seinen ersten Jahren die
Schablone fuer seine Stellungnahme zum Leben."
Mr. P. C. Bartlett, author of "Psychology and Primitive Culture,"
shows in his contribution upon "Symbolism iri Folk Lore" the same
care in exposition as marked the treatment there.
In "vocational selection" the man is chosen for the job, in "voca
tional guidance," on the other hand, the job is chosen for the mart.
Dr. Otto Lipmann, Dr. Cyril Burt, and Dr. L. L. Thurstone contribute
to a symposium upon "The Principles of Vocational Guidance." One
regrets, indeed, being unable to give the substan ce of these valuable
papers; the reader of this review will do well to purchase a copy of the
"Proceedings" for himself in order to have the contributions in full.
Dr. Moede presents "The Present Position of the Vocational Test in
Germany," Dr. G. Van Wayenburg contributes "Observations ori Manual
Dexterity," and Dr. J. M. Lahy gives an account of "An Experimental
Inquiry into the Stroke of the Typist."
Other papers are those by Professor Henscheri "On Sensations,
Perceptions and Conceptions from an Anatomico-clinical Point of
View"; by Professor Koffka on "New Experiments in the Perception of
Movement"; by Henry Binns and H. S. Raper on "A Comparison of
Visual and Tactile Judgment in Individuals of Different Ages and Train
ing"; and by E. M. von Hornbostel on "Psychophysiology of Monotic
and Diotic Hearing."
Not the least interesting and valuable of the contribution s to
these "Proceedings" was the sermon delivered on the Sunday morning
during the Congress by Canon E. W. Barnes in Christ Church Cathe
dral. The subject was "Psychology and Religion," an d it was this
enlightened and liberal discourse which first came to hand here through
the medium of the Press. Canon Barnes is already well known to Aus
tralian readers for the courageous and sturdy quality of his thought:
for them especially this sermon will make good reading. I shall close
by quoting two sentences from his discourse: "So far as I have studied
your subject I find in it no unchallengable conclusions which would
negative such beliefs. I find, moreover, much which promises to be of
great use to religious teachers and leaders."
H. Tasman Lovell.
THE FUNDAMENTALS OF PSYCHOLOGY. By W. B. Pillsbury.
Revised edition. New York. 1923. The Macmillan Co. 12/- net.
THE FUNDAMENTALS OF VOCATIONAL PSYCHOLOGY. By Charles
Griffitts. New York. 1924. The Macmillan Co. 12/- net.
The development of psychology as a science has been marked by
the appearance of an increasingly large number of text-books both on
the general principles of the science and on the application of these
principles to all spheres of life. The truth of the scientific general
isations is tested by the application of them that man can make. It
140 REVIEWS
must be admitted that many of these text-books present nothirig new
either in matter or presentation, but the two texts under review do not
fall into this category.
Those who used the first edition of Prof. Pillsbury s book were
attracted by the logical arrangement of his material, by his clarity and
by his moderation. He dealt with the fundamentals of psychology and
did not allow himself to be side-tracked into the discussion of many-
debatable points and unsettled problems. He aimed at giving the stud
ent an adequate and clear statement of the basal principles of general
psychology and the wide use of his work as a text-book is the measure
of his success. In the revised edition the same general features ap
pear but, together with minor alterations in arrarigement and expres
sion, we find the addition of three new chapters dealing with aspects
of the science that have assumed greater importance since the first
edition was published in 1916: hereditary differences in individuals,
methods of measuring intelligence, fatigue, sleep arid dreams. The
last three of these had been treated by the author in his "Essentials of
Psychology," published in 1912.
In his method of approach the author avoids the strife of the
"schools." He admits that his view-point varies with the subject mat
ter: in sensation and perception he adopts the attitude of the structur
alist, in action that of the behaviourist. As the preface of the first
edition informed us "opposing theories are discussed only as they may
illumine statements of fact or where they have great historical import
ance and then only if the problem is real and not settled." Teachers
will find the work a very useful text-book; those who prefer to have
their students approach the subject through action rather than through
sensation can easily take the chapters in the order that will meet their
rieeds.
The social conditions of the times, especially during and since
the war, have directed attention to the importance of man in his social
relations. The nineteenth century was the age of machinery, the
twentieth promises to be the age of man. Psychology will have an
important part to play in this age. Already the amount of investigation
and research in connection with the part that human personality plays
in the varied aspects of our social life is very large but the results of
much of the work in these fields .exists in a form .not readily available
to the student who desires to know how his knowledge of psychology
may be made useful for him in the problems of his everyday life. Pro
fessor Grifntts has given guidance to students in these matters.
Every writer will select his illustrative material accord irfg to his
training and interests; the impotant things are his point of view and
bis method of presentation. The author tells us that his "book is
designed primarily to serve as a text-book for classes in vocational
psychology. In the selection and presentation of material I have had
in mirid the fundamental problems of a psychological nature which
confront both the employment manager and the vocational counsellor
. . . The emphasis has been placed more on general principles,
methods and technique, than on practical rules." The chapter headings
REVIEWS 141
indicate clearly the scope of the book. The first two chapters deal
with variability and correlation ; then come two o.n physiognomy, fol
lowed by two on the interview and its psychological aspects. Other
chapters deal with rating scales, supplementary tests and trade tests,
and there are also sections dealing with tests of a more general type:
strength and endurance; motor control, dexterity and speed; se.nsory
and perceptual capacity; imagery arid imagination; intelligence tests
and their uses. The two concluding chapters are on instincts and
character, and choosing a vocation.
Of course the material is not new; it is gathered from many differ
ent sources. But the arrangement is good, the language clear, and the
examples illuminating. Each chapter is followed by a set of study
questions and bibliography; in some fields a very useful historical
sketch precedes the consideration of methods and results. Students
who have mastered a general course in psychology and who desire to
become acquainted with the methods of applying this knowledge to
the problems arising in connection with the selection of the humarf
material in industry will find this book an adequate and clear introduc
tion to this difficult subject. They will realise, too, that only a begin
ning has been made and that a big field lies operi to those who desire
to take up research work in this subject.
T. A. Hunter.
IDEALISM AS A PHILOSOPHICAL DOCTRINE. By R. F. Alfred
Hoernle\ M.A., B.Sc., Professor of Philosophy, University of Wit-
watersrand, Johannesburg, South Africa. Hodder and Stoughtoifs
Library of Philosophy and Religion. 1925. pp. ix., 189. 5/- net.
Messrs. Hodder and Stoughton s Library of Philosophy and Religion
has done well to include a Manual on Idealism and to secure for its
authorship so eminent a thinker as Professor HoernlS We have here
presented in small scope a view of Idealism which unites in common
defence of the Supremacy of Mind the two largely opposed tendencies
of Spiritual Pluralism and of Absolutism. Spiritual Pluralism is the
doctrine of those who, like James Ward and McTaggart follow Berkeley
more or less closely in holding that the Universe is a Society of Spirits
dependent upon a Supreme Spirit, namely God. Absolutism, as repre
sented notably by Hegel and the Neo-Hegelians is characteristically
Monistic, objective and logical in structure. The totality of things, the
all-inclusive, is here the Absolute of which all finite individuals are
but temporary manifestations or appearances. By bringing these two
teridencies of Idealism within the compass of a single enquiry, our
author has avoided one-sidedness of treatment, and it is pleasant to
record the fair-mindedness with which varying shades of idealistic doc
trine are discussed. The treatment has .nevertheless a quite distinctive
unity of its own, involving a certain limitation of outlook. It substi
tutes Berkeley for Descartes, as the father of Modern Idealism (p. 37),
and even the "new type" of Idealism associated with the names of Kant
and Hegel is discussed in its relations to the problems raised by Ber-
142 REVIEWS
keley. It is within these limits and on the basis of Berkeley s signifi
cant insights that our author s exposition of the development of
Idealism is conceived.
Berkeley s Idealism was essentially levelled agairist the material
ism of his day, and the chief aim of his earlier writings was to sub
stitute God for matter as the principle of explanation even for the
physical world (p.58). God is the Supreme Spirit and through Nature
reveals himself to human spirits who depend essentially upon him.
This latter conviction, we read, "is undoubtedly the one which lay near
est to Berkeley s heart. It is the fundamental doctrine of Spiritual
Pluralism. The famous "esse est percipi" doctrine remairis none the
less fundamental for Berkeleyan Idealism, and is excellently handled
by our author. It is shown to be compatible with a sound philosophy
of science, provided science is content to keep to its empirical basis
arid avoid all speculation and all metaphysical prying into the nature
of matter. The thesis, as Berkeley intends it, is applicable only to
sensations, and even a realist would admit that it is at any rate not a
paradox to say that a colour sensum exists only when it is seen. The
view that the doctrine reduces the being of concrete things to their
beirig perceived is apt to involve a misconception. With Berkeley
there are no concrete things in which sensory qualities inhere. A
thing, with him, is no more than a collection of ideas of sense. It
is not "a substantial somewhat which owns qualities" (p. 67). "There
are colours but no coloured things." Colours exist only as objects of
a perceiving mind, arid in this relation, and not as inhering qualities,
find their true substantial nexus. A further point is that ideas, for
Berkeley are objects and not mental states or processes, so that Ber
keley s theory is not properly a subjective but rather an objective
Idealism. Moreover when Berkeley denies the existence of matter he
is not denying the existence of physical things, but simply the theory
which maintairis that "what we perceive are impressions or sensations
produced in our minds by the action upori them of material objects" (P.
71). According to Berkeley we do perceive real objects but their cause
is not matter but God. All this, and much else in the analysis of Ber
keley s Idealism is stated freshly and forcibly and will be found help
ful to many readers.
The term "real," as our author points out, is ambiguous: it may
stand either for the existent or for the true (p. 145). The Berkeleyan
type of Idealism Us coricerned chiefly with the problem of existence, the
Idealism according to Kant and Hegel chiefly with the real nature of
that which exists (p. 146). With the earlier Berkeley at any rate the
emphasis is on perception rather than thought, the notion of mental
activity though stressed remains unanalysed, and it is hard to see
how on Berkeley s premisses we can be aware of nature as ari ordered
whole or win an intelligible grasp of a natural law. Kant here fills
the gap by his conception of Knowledge as essentially judgment and
therefore essentially an act of ordering synthesis. Apart from these
synthetic activities of mind none of Berkeley s "collections" could be
REVIEWS 143
identified as things. They supply that criterion of consistency or
systematic unity apart from which in last resort the true could not be
distinguished from the false. It is synthetic judgment which first
clearly reveals not only the logical structure of Nature, but the logical
complexity of the reason itself. In the three Critiques we are offered
a survey of the life of Reason. In every field science, morality, aes
thetic enjoyment, there is a systematic search for the principles or
universals the presence of which constitutes "reason" in that field (p.
134). Thus Kant "redirected philosophy to the exploration of the uni
versal principles operative in our spiritual experience in its several
realms or branches science, morality, art, religion"; though it was
Hegel who actually extended Kant s conception" of Synthesis from the
sphere of positive science to the whole realm of our experience, show
ing how the nature of the real works in and through our minds and
gives all our human institutions scientific, social, political, their
spiritual structure and substantiality.
So far we have not come across the fundamental conception of
Idealism as it developes itself in the work of Plato and the Neo-
Platonists. The Platonic conception! of an "Idea," and the fact that
for Plato Ideas are not only "essential natures," but also "ideals" (p.
29), these, together with other preliminary matters concerning ideas
and ideal theories, are discussed iri an Introductory Chapter where
Platonism figures briefly as a preliminary stage iri the development of
Idealism. It is probable that this somewhat scanty recognition of
Plato s importance as an Idealist will arouse more criticism than the
effacement of Descartes by Berkeley, the more so as the important
mystical development from Neo-Platonism which connects the Ideals
of Truth, Beauty and Right with the attributes of God Himself and
their presence in the soul as "the reality of God within us" is left
wholly unconsidered. Due recognition is givan to the presence in the
human mind of a reality that expresses itself in and through it and
determines all its thinking and choosing. But this inclusive reality, as
the World, Universe, or Whole, the ultimate subject of every judgment,
uses the individual s subjective activity as its instrument, and it is it
and not we who Initiate, direct, choose or create. Possibly the most
pregnant and contentious issue which this Manual presents to the
reader is that between the reality of a personal individual and that of a
superpersonal Absolute, and the reader will doubtless gather from this
work of Prof. Hoernle" that the soundest and most developed view of
Idealism is that of the Neo-Hegelian School with its recognition of
the Absolute as the one source of all Spiritual initiative and efficiency.
Let us consider the point more closely.
On p. 43, after bringing out the fact that Locke s new "way of
ideas," cleared of entanglement with the theory of representative per-
ceptiorf, has the great merit of bringing all objects within a single
world as "objects of mind," Prof. Hoernle" developes the further con
tention of many idealists that the "I think" is only one side of the
truth, and "the world thinks in me" is the other side (p. 45), a view
144 REVIEWS
which subsequently (p. 150) takes the form "our ideas are themselves
facts," i.e., "what we perceive and think is not different from, but iden
tical with the real world." Idea and fact are identical, and this iden
tity is what we mean by Truth (p. 124). In proportion as the
identity is more inclusive and consistent it is to that extent more true.
Thought is not a purely subjective function possessing its own intrinsic
necessities or directive ideals, but is "the control of mental process by
the real object" (p. 171); it is the object of thought that determines
our thinking (p. 44). Now this varying and repeated emphasis on the
determinative influence of the Universe or Real World on all that we
think or will implies a view of the "I" and the "I think" which has
been criticized by personalists of different schools. Fact must be rele
vant fact and in this sense intimately linked to the purpose and view
point of the thinker, but this viewpoint and purpose is mine and not
that of the world I seek to interpret. Thought is essentially "my
thought," in the sense that the thinking which discovers the nature
of reality is self-directed by aims, methods and ideals which animate
the thinking and not the object to be understood. The object to be
understood is qua object intelligible but not intelligent, and it is
through his intelligibility that it is intrinsically related to mind. Now
what is merely intelligible cannot do our thinking for us, though it
can determine what the results of our thinking alone can be. Thus
what controls our thinking is not in the first instance the real object
but the thinking s own ideals and methods. These determine the whole
structure and function of science and philosophy, though the nature we
think about, precisely through being what it is and having a nature
of its own, eventually cancels as inadequate any idea which does not
grasp it in its whole complex entirety. These characteristic conten
tions of the Personalists (not necessarily Spiritual Idealists) though
they may not penetrate to the ultimate root of the relation of subject
to object in knowledge and reality have this merit at least, that they
escape the desperate identification of idea and fact, as though facts
could choose the viewpoints from which they are to be considered
scientific, religious, etc. (cf. pp. 149, 150). And yet this rift among-
Idealists cannot be regarded as final. A way of promise and of future
understanding between "Absolute" and "Personal" Idealists would
seem to lie in a more thoroughgoing analysis of the superpersonal,
and its concept than has yet been attempted. It is usually assumed
by the Hegelian Absolutist that the God of religious experience must
be personal, the Absolute Reality superpersonal. There is, however,
much to be said for the thesis that the God of Religion, as the Source
and Substance of the Principle of Good in all its forms, is superpersonal,
and that such divinity, in relation at any rate, to the infinite needs of
our deeper nature, admits of being rationally conceived. Still it is
difficult to see how the fine logical armoury of Idealism which Hegelian s
and Neo-Hegelians have done so much to develope, can be effectively
applied to this problem unless the presence of the divirfe in the human
soul as the Ideal, is takeri as the experiential starting-point for the
REVIEWS 145
study of the superperso.nal and the "I" of the Personalist accorded an
ultimate reality in virtue of the intimate and intrinsic connection be
tween personality and the Ideal. If this is done, the standpoint might
bo that of a Spiritual Pluralism, provided such Pluralism is not iricom-
patible with a Monistic outlook or a belief in the Absolute, and does
not repudiate the essential insight of the mystic.
The author does not profess to have given us a complete Manual
of Idealism, but rather a chart to guide the student through the ideal
istic maze, and to stimulate him to further development and discovery.
The chart is indeed a valuable one, contains many points of specific
interest, e.g., a penetrating comparison of the Idealisms of Bradley and
of Bosanquet, and should be particularly welcomed by students of
History of Philosophy and of Metaphysics who are seeking their bearing
in a difficult region. Its author has the rare gift of being at orfce an
authority in his subject and of saying deep things in a simple and un-
technical way. Like the author s recent volume on "Matter, Life,
Mind and God," the present Manual on Idealism is well-adapted for
tutorial class-discussions, arid it is to be hoped that for these and other
interests and purposes of the student of philosophy, the book will be
widely and permanently serviceable.
W. R. Boyce Gibson.
DIE PSYCHOLOGIE DER FRAUEN. Von G. Helmans. Karl Winter,
Heidelberg. 1924. Pp. 300. Price 4 marks.
This interesting and suggestive study is based largely on question
naire results. It is the fresh data they supply which have -encouraged
the author to tackle again the perplexing old problem: is there a funda
mental psychical difference between man and woman, one that goes
deeper than culture, and if so, wherein precisely does it consist? The
author is scrupulously fair-minded. (1) He is not concerned with prac
tical issues, such as the fitness of woman for study, or voting or holding
public offices. (2) He holds that sex-differences do not imply differences
in value. (3) He points out that his inquiry, being statistical in nature,
deals only with averages. Though men are on the average taller than
women, this does not exclude the possibility of a particular woman
being much taller than a particular man. You cannot refute statistics
by quoting particular cases. Much has been said and written about
women 1 which simply reflects the particular experience of an individual
eo that, as J. S. Mill maintains: "One can, to an almost laughable de
gree, infer what a man s wife is like from his opinions about women in
general." The questionnaire method makes it possible to bring a
large number of cases under observation. The results of two such en
quiries are printed at the end of this volume, dealing with some thous
ands of cases. There may be errors on the part of the individual doc
tors and teachers who have here recorded the results of their obser
vations, and yet, taken as a whole, these results will still have value.
It is not that many wrongs produce a right, but rather that the sources
of error cancel each other, and there is always the pressure of the facts
146 REVIEWS
themselves operating in favour of a right decision. There must, how
ever, be sufficient material to work upon, and it is the scantitfess of
existing material which prompted the author to undertake the very
elaborate questionnaires given in the supplement. The questions in
the first one cover all aspects of the psychical life, from the possession
of such qualities as tolerance, constancy and uriselfishness to differ
ences of political outlook, love of sport and the tendericy to put off
answering letters. It will be obvious that to frame questions un
ambiguously is a work of some skill, and to interpret the answers
rightly .needs both skill and fairmindedness. The author has sought to
eliminate all ascertainable causes of error. He compares the report-
sheets filled up by men with those filled up by women, and where there
are discrepancies, he seeks to ascertain the cause of them. It is inter
esting to find that, in the main, men and women observers give very
similar results. The questionnaire method is not, however, employed
to the exclusion of all else. There is frequent reference to experi
mental tests, official statistics of crime and disease, biography, pro
verbs which register the experience of many generations, and the
opinions of individuals derived from their own particular experience.
These last, though inferior in scientific value, certainly add interest and
variety to the treatment.
The main idea of the book is that it is woman s greater capacity
for emotion 1 which is the key to all subsidiary differences in feeling,
perception, intelligence and action. It is true that we find the emotional
and the unemotional type both in women and in men. An unemotional
woman is much riearer the average man than is the emotional, sensitive
artist-member of his own sex. But there are more emotional women
than emotiorial men. There is perhaps no other point on which different
investigators are so generally agreed. The answers reported in the
questionnaires all favour the assumption. Mental disturbances of
emotional origin are much more common in women than in men. And
all the outwards signs of emotion are much more strongly marked
among women. In this connexion, there is an interesting reference
to Lombroso and the Italian School, who, in the matter of pain-
sensitiveness, object to arguing from these outward signs. They de
clare that women really feel pain less intensely than men and that the
prevalent opposite belief is due to mistaking expression of pain for
pain itself. Women, in short, have not greater sensibility but only
greater "irritability." The author points out that, curiously enough,
they urge, in support of this contention, that women stand pain better
than men, do not fairit nearly so often in surgical operations, are
superior as sick-nurses and so on. They appear to have no objection
to inferring a weaker sensibility from a weaker manifestation, though
they will not allow a stronger manifestation to be taken as evidence
for a strorCger sensibility. This inconsistency vitiates L/ombroso s argu
ment. The author does not touch upon his experiments. But he de
fines his attitude towards experimental tests in other parts of the
book. He hopes much from them in the future. When properly organ-
REVIEWS 147
ised they should be a much better weapon than the questionnaire.
But at present there is not enough agreement between experimenters
as to the methods they use and the kind of people they test. He notes
more than once that women do not make good subjects for threshold-
experiments (Cf. pp. 84-85).
Granting, then, that woman feels more intensely thari man, what
results should we expect to find? In the first place, a narrowing of the
field of consciousness. What is gained in intensity is lost in scope. It
is interesting to note that Janet has defined hysterical anaesthesia as
an abnormal narrowing of the field of consciousness, and hysteria is "la
gigantessa della femminilita." Again and again the author finds here
the clue to certain traits noted in ordinary life or brought out iri the
answers to the questionnaires. Why is it that women are "more sug
gestible," "easier to persuade," and again "inaccessible to the most con
vincing argument"? His answer is that the emotional type is always
more suggestible,, but the suggestion may come from within or from
without. Iri either case it will be so strongly tinged with feeling-tone as
to take exclusive possession of the mind. Thus women may be ex
pected to vary more, to be more "unaccountable," more full of surprises.
On a long walk she will often go on to a certain point and then collapse
suddenly while the man gets tired more gradually. In politics, the
report-sheets (p. 206 show that women swing to extremes: they in
cline to be either conservative or radical. There are fewer moderates.
In sex-relationships it is with woman far more than with man a case
of "all or nothing." She is not so capable of a divided allegiance. If
she breaks her troth, she breaks it completely. Even in crime, onco
started, she is harder to reform. Instances can be multiplied, but there
is orie particular question in this connexion which the author dis
cusses in an interesting way (pp. 15O153). Why, he asks, has woman
not done more in the realm of creative Art? There is so much that is
in common between the artist and the woman. To feel intensely is a
condition of artistic creation. In this domain 1 , woman s output might
have been expected to equal man s, yet, as Rubenstein points out she
has never written a cradle-song or a love-duo that can compare with
those produced by men. The author suggests that this is because artis
tic creation involves not merely strong feelirig, but the capacity to look
at that feelirig objectively. If it occupies the whole field of conscious
ness then it cannot find artistic expresssion. You live your poetry in
stead of writing it. In arts such as the theatrical art where this dupli
cation of the self is not necessary, where you simply have to merge
yourself in the character you are representing, women have at all
times competed successfully with men.
This may be true, but it still leaves us wondering why merC of
emotional type should find it easier than women to objectify their
emotion. Perhaps here the author might well supplement his explana
tion by reference to the other main difference which he finds between
the sexes: viz., the greater concreteness of woman s way of thinking.
She dislikes analysing, tearing to pieces, the objects she loves as
148 REVIEWS
wholes. Pages 135-156, which deal with the intelligence, are extremely
interesting and suggestive. Woman is more interested in concrete
situations than in abstract ideas, or as Mill puts it, she "seldom run s
wild after an abstraction." As a rule she is better at languages than at
mathematics. When she takes to philosophy, her favourite philosophers
are generally the less abstract thinkers (Plato, Schopenhauer, M. Aure-
lius, Epictetus, Renan). As Lotze says, "the knowledge and will of
men aim at generality, those of women at completeness." They have
not men s "profound reverence for general principles" arid closely con
nected with this is "their well-known unjudicial character," their
scantier reverence for law.
It is this decided preference for concreteness which to the author s
mind accounts for woman s comparatively small scientific output even
where there has been equality of opportunity. There are fewer women
who are content to immerse themselves iri the cold bath of scientific
abstraction. Their soul is not in it. They have great capacity for the
conscientious acquisition of knowledge. Their examinatio.n record is
better (statistics are given on p. 123), but they lack the scientific
passion which is necessary for creative discovery, and love is a thirig
which cannot be forced. "There is perhaps," says Lotze, "no object
which a woman s mind could not understand, but there are many things
in which women never learn to be interested." And the author quotes
an instance reported by Winkler of a gifted young womari who gave
up a much-coveted post because, she said, "my intellect found satis
faction in it, but not my heart." Science and art for women are some
thing in their lives, but not life itself. They are ready to give them
up for love, whereas a man, faced with the alternative, would at least
hesitate. The fact that women so ofteri do give them up for love thins
very considerably the ranks of those from whom first-class work might
be expected. And the author might have added that even the pro
fessional woman has usually far more family calls upon her time than
the man who is doing corresponding work. But being a man he prob
ably didn t know.
There are many other points of interest such as the greater activ
ity of the Unconscious in woman s mental activity. This he connects
with her dislike of analytic abstractions. Her intelligence is more
intuitive and less rationalistic. "On ne nous apprend rien: nous devi-
nons tout." He again crosses swords with Lombroso in his attempt to
class woman s intuition together with animal instinct (p. 174). Woman s
way is not inferior to man s way: it is simply different. Her intelli
gence, plastic and adaptable, fits itself to the endlessly complicated
curve of life, instead of proceeding by straight lines and angles. She
is more capable of dealing with the individual: her charity seeks
rather the personal than the institutional outlet (p. 183). Her genius
is displayed preeminently iri the home, for, to invert the Bible phrase,
"where your heart is, there will your treasure be."
The last chapter, concerning the origin of psychical differences, is
perhaps the least full and satisfactory in the book. It seems strange
REVIEWS 149
that motherhood should not be more strongly emphasised. It is men
tioned, but only as one factor among others. A good many of the quali
ties which the author has singled out as most characteristic of womeri
seem to be more closely bound up with motherhood than with the more
general term of "emotionality." Is it not, quite specifically, the
maternal instinct which gives woman her preeminence in sick-nursing
or the care of young children? The author couples motherhood with
woman s subjection to man" as among those social conditions which,
operating through long ages, have left their imprint upon her soul.
But surely these two factors are not on the same plane of importance.
The one may indeed be just a cultural condition, Among civilised
people it has almost ceased to operate even now. But Motherhood is
something fundamental, wrought into the inmost fibre of woman s
being, responsible for many of her defects as well as of her virtues.
Like sex itself it "lies deeper than culture."
This does not mean that it is incapable of development. There are
two ways, the author points out, in which it may be profoundly modi
fied. One is through sexual selection which may be expected to operate
more freely in the future than it has done in the past. The other is
through the influences of social conditions, such as education. It
seems however, to the Reviewer, that Motherhood, however repressed,
transformed or sublimated, will always be the key to the proper under
standing of women,
Lucy J. Gibson.
SCIENTIFIC PAPERS, mainly on Electrodynamics and Radiation.
By the late S. B. McLaren. Prepared for publication by Professor
H. H. Hass(, Professor T. H. Havelock, F.R.S., Dr. J. W. Nicholson,
F.R.S., and Sir J. Larmor, F.R.S. Camb. Univ. Press. 1925.
Price, 8/6 net.
This work is not a reprint of McLaren s published scientific
papers, but a description of his contributions to mathematical physics
and to the philosophy of the physical sciences; it is drawn up in such
a way as to emphasize the real significance of both, as well as the
originality and power of their author s thinking. The description is
effected, to a slight extent, by reprinting some of the papers, but mainly
by giving an analysis of the remaining papers and of a large mass of
MSS., hitherto unpublished. It is no small tribute to the estimation
in which McLaren was held by his contemporaries that four such
eminent investigators should have co-operated in the work; that he
was one of the most original scientific thinkers on the roll of Mel
bourne graduates, is beyorid doubt.
A personal appreciation and a reprint, from the Proceedings of the
London Mathematical Society, of an obituary notice are prefixed to the
work itself, which is in three sections. The first section deals with
problems in radiation and gravitation, and embodies, inter alia, the sub
stance of an unpublished essay to which the Adams Prize was awarded.
The second section deals with electromagnetic theory, mainly with a
150 REVIEWS
brilliant attempt to explain the nature of magnetism; the third dis
cusses some interesting problems in the theory of the dispersion of
light.
The chief interest of McLaren s work, so far as our readers are
concerned, lies in his contributions to the Quantum and Relativity
Theories. Like other workers, such as Jeans and Poincare", he satis
fied himself as to the inadequacy of the classical theories for
the explanation of radiation and the incorrectness of the adage
natura non facit saltum; the special value of his demon stration is well
put by Nicholson. "His point of view," writes the latter, "is essentially,
and in fact, extremely individual, and so different, in its procedure,
from that of others, that it may well be regarded as a fundamental con-
tributio.n." It is, by the way, somewhat curious to compare the
apathetic reception of the ideas of the quantum theory amotfg philo
sophers with the interest taken in relativist ideas, though the latter
are neither more revolutionary nor more fundamental than the former.
McLaren s view of relativity or, as it would now be styled,
"special" relativity is original and interesting. He regards physics
as dealing with a sirigle "ultimate" substance, a fluid the density and
motion of which are, at all points, continuous; this substance has two
forms, "matter" and "aether/ mutually exclusive at any point of space;
"matter" is where the fluid grows or decays, "aether" is where neither
growth nor decay occurs. To account for gravitation", electromagnetism
and radiation theory on this very general hypothesis, he finds it neces
sary to assume the physical reality of a fourth dimension; he pro
claims himself "a convert to the view that Minkowski did not raise a
fiction . . . but ... a structure which, as reality, is a necessary
inference from ordinary experience." McLaren s four-dimensional
structure is not, however, the same as Minkowski s; his fourth dimen
sion* is not a time dimension, but an additional space dimension, of
different character from the other three; its symbol enters into the
expression of a four-dimensional space-element, somewhat as the time
symbol does into that of a Minkowski space-time element. Again Min
kowski s universe is devoid of change, McLaren s is neither timeless
nor devoid of motion; in the latter, time is a logical succession;; "the
symbol of an order in which the elements of Minkowski s space are
thought" (not "throughout" as mis-spelled on p. 30 of the work under
review). He also calls it "the absolute time of an unchanging universe,"
which is to be contrasted with the relative or "local times" appertain
ing to different parts of the "aether." He employs the terms "before"
and "after" in the same sense as Robb does in his "Theory of Time and
Space." McLaren s notion s of time obviously differ toto coelo from
Einstein s or Mirfkowski s; on the other hand, they challenge a com
parison with those developed later in Bergson s "Dure"e et Simul-
taneiteY Unlike as this theory is to its rivals, it undoubtedly led its
author to anticipate the results, respecting the influence of gravity
on radiation, deduced arid published by Einstein and Abrahams. It
must be remembered that all this took place prior to the evolution, in
REVIEWS 151
Einstein s mind, of the theory of "general" relativity; all the same, if
McLaren s ideas were to be developed, in a similar way to Einstein s,
from a "special" to a "general" theory, they would probably prove to
be of much more than mere historical interest.
E. F. J. Love.
REICHLS PHILOSOPHISCHER ALMANACK auf das Jahr, 1924:
Immanuel Kant zum Gedaechtnis, 22 April, 1924; hrsg. von Paul
Feldkeller. pp. 479. Otto Reichl Verlag, Darmstadt, 1924.
The enterprising Darmstadt publishing house, Otto Reichl Verlag,
which specialises in works on philosophy, first published iri 1923
Reichls philosophischer Almanach, edited by Paul Feldkeller. This in
augural issue contained biographical notes on philosophers and his
torical sketches of philosophical societies and academies in Germany,
as well as extracts from the works of Hegel, Jean Paul, von Stein,
Paracelsus and others. The second (1924) issue of the Almanach has
been dedicated to the memory of Imman uel Kant, as a contribution to
the bicentenary celebrations. The greater portion of the Almanach
contains articles and extracts on Kant s life, personality and work. In
addition there are notes on philosophical congresses and institution s,
and o.n outstanding works of reference in philosophy. The last
one hundred and fifty pages contain an historical survey of the philo
sophical jourrials of Germany for the past 200 years.
Feldkeller considers that the history of philosophical journals
reveals in highly coloured reflection the philosophical life of Germany
for the past 200 years. In number and range they are unequalled in
any other country. Philosophy has been more intimately associated
with the main tenor of the life of the German .nation than elsewhere.
Philosophy helped considerably in the redemption of a fallen Germany
over one hundred years ago; and may it now help Germany to find once
more a place in the world of honourable understandings and willing
co-operatiori for the uplift of all that is good among all peoples. In
journals more than in books we come into immediate contact with the
pulsating life of philosophical movements, glowing with the heat and
glamour of controversies, and the vigorous cut and thrust of sterling
earriest-minded opponents. Through the clash of many opinions the
truths finally win their way out into the open realms of popular accept
ance. The journals take us into the workshops for the fashioning of
truth and principle. In books all is orderly arranged. The track is
prepared for us. In the journals we have to thread our way through
masses of facts and presentations of facts. And herein 1 the greatness
of the editor is revealed. He has to catch the spirit of the times, and
arrange his material so as to give living expression to, and even guide
the lines of development of, the great thoughts of the great thinkers
with their legions of contemporaneous co-workers and disciples. The
journals provide a common meetirig ground for opinions new and old,
and the editors sit at the office of toll determining what shall pass
through to the other side of posterity. There are lonely thinkers who
153 REVIEWS
have it not in them to act as editors, for these directors of thought
must be possessed of a socializing consciousness; but in these days
through the extended social service which an editor renders his com
munity of readers, the thinkers that live solitary may co-operate
with those whose presence is ever in the open concourse of makers and
receivers of public opinion.
Feldkeller outlines the various needs and types of the German
journals and classifies them as journals for (1) technical discussion,
(2) critical reviews, (3) popular presentation, (4) reports of proceed
ings of meetings and congresses, (5) special phases or divisions of
philosophy (metaphysics, ethics, education, religiori, sociology), and
psychology, and programmes of societies for spreading particular
doctrines or increasing the study and influence of an outstanding
thinker.
The period summarized by Feldkeller is divided into two main
divisions, the pre-classical and classical (1715-1815) and the post-
classical (1815-1900). In the days whetf Kantianism was at its height
the periodicals were divided into two camps Kantian and anti-Kantian.
They were usually short-lived. Fichte, Schiller, Goethe, Schelling,
Hegel, Schlegel, with many smaller men, participated in this jour
nalistic fray. Many long-lived periodicals went down about the time
of the war and after; but there are n ow signs of revival. Very few of
the existing journals go back beyond 1900. Generally, the periodicals
have had a chequered career, ending when the special programme or
propaganda had run its course, or the genius of the editor had departed
from his successors. The United States at present supports a philo
sophical and psychological periodical literature comparable with that
of Germany. Unforturiately the same cannot be said of England. The
editor of the Almanach announces that he intends to publish later
a world list of current philosophical periodicals. We are glad to know
that Australia will not be unrepresented.
E. Morris Miller.
MIND IN THE PARMENIDES. A Study in The History of Logic. By
Donald Sage Mackay. Printed by Clyde Browne, Los Angeles.
Pp. 114.
This is a Columbia University doctorate thesis. After the chief
attempts to interpret the Parmenides have beeri reviewed, the author
gives his own interpretation, according to which the significance of the
dialogue is logical, not epistemological or metaphysical. The aporiae
forming the starting-point of the discussion are supposed to be due to
confusion of the intensional and extensional meaning in a judgment,
and, through Plato s attempt to clarify this distinction, the Parmenides
is "our earliest work in logic, as a science, anticipating in many im
portant respects the more formal and systematic treatises of Aristotle"
(p. 88). In art Appendix is given a detailed analysis of the second part
of the dialogue.
B. Muscio.
REVIEWS 153
THE WORD OF LALLA THE PROPHETESS. Do.ne into English
Verse by Sir Richard Carriac Temple. Cambridge Press. 1924.
16/- net.
Lai Ded (or Lalla) was a mystic poetess of Kashmir in the four
teenth century, an adherent of the Shaiva Yogi form of Hinduism, but
influenced also by the great saint of Kashmir, Ali Hamadani, and others
of the Moslem faith. Given to wandering and frenzy, she had also a
shrewd mind and a power of homely illustration , which has made many
of her verses and sayings household words in Kashmir to the present
day.
The original text of the verses (Lalla-vakyani) was edited by
Grierson and Barnett and published by the Royal Asiatic Society
with translation and notes five years ago, but Sir Richard Temple
(now in his seventy-fifth year) has thought it worth while to make them
more accessible to rio.n-Indian Scholars in a free verse translation (71
pp.) with two long essays on the "Sources of Lalla s Religion" (94 pp.)
and "Lalla s Religion, Theory, and Doctrine" (54 pp.), also a useful
Glossary of Oriental Terms (32 pp.) and an Index.
The first essay is larger in scope than the title would indicate, for
it is really a sketch of Indian thought, piety, and philosophy from Vedic
times up to the present, with an attempt to show the effect of out
side influences, especially in the early stages.
The second essay is an extensive but very technical account of the
Trika (triple) philosophy, which originated about 900 A.D. as a strict
Monism. Shiva is the one reality; the soul created by him a "non-
spatial point." Shiva is all-transcending, but in another aspect imma
nent and as such is Shakti, a female creative power. The expansion
of Shakti "builds up the infinite variety of beings and things that
appear to make up the Universe out of fundamental principles of evo
lution or development or factors." On this is built up with all the
minute detail of Indian thought a system both of faith and practice
that can be followed in this essay.
On turning to the actual poems one is struck by the contrast be
tween the technical expression of her faith and the practical application
of it. Her one object is absorption into the Supreme "as Christians
would put it to make sure of salvation." Esoteric knowledge, not works,
will bring Release. But Lalla is a live woman 1 , and her poetry is full of
illustrations from the everyday life of India. The elephant "begging
every hour to be fed"; the sugar-load "upon my back"; the poppies
"sons as bright and welcome as the flowers"; the pigeon-loft "filled
with longings"; the cotton-bloom as it passes from plant to garment
are a few of the illustrations that are skilfully used to propagate the
Yogi teaching. Her poem on resignation 1 is said to be quoted still by
Kashmiris in times of trouble. Students of Indian philosophy and of
Comparative Religions are alike indebted to Sir Richard Temple for
this book.
G. W. Thatcher.
154 REVIEWS
THE PURPOSE OF EDUCATION. An Examination of Educational
Problems in the light of recent scientific research. By St. George
Lane Fox Pitt. Cambridge University Press. 4/- net. 1924.
pp. xvii 92.
The first edition of this book appeared in 1913. Iri his preface to
the present edition the author states that the main contention of
the book is "that both as to aim and method, modern education is often
faulty in that the excessive desire shown to obtain tangible results
of a practical nature has had the effect of obscuring its ideals arid
perverting its methods."
Unfortunately no evidence is offered in proof of this contention,
nor is any examination made of current educational problems of either
aim or method.
The several chapters are devoted to somewhat desultory dis
cussions of a number of ethical arid psychological concepts. But no
attempt is made to show how the author s ethical and psychological
opinions would affect either the theory or the practice of education.
The book has no value as a contribution to the study of either edu
cational theory or practice.
A. Mackie.
THE CONTROL OF INDUSTRY (Christian Order of Industry Series,
No. 6.) The Homestead. York. 1925. Pp. 71.
Report of a Conference held at Balliol College, Oxford, Jan.
9/12/1925, to discuss the resolution of the Copec Conference that "In
dustry should be so recognised that all those engaged in it shall have
an increasingly effective voice in determining the conditions of their
work and lives." Contains valuable contribution s by Dr. C. H. North-
cott, L. Urwick, and others. The Reports of these Oxford Conferences
are well worth reading, and should be widely circulated.
"POLLY HEDRON, COGITATIONS CONCERNING SUBCONSCIOUS-
NESS." By Norman S. Osbourne. Henry G. Forster, 160 Castle-
reagh Street, Sydney. 1925. Price 3/6.
The writer sees in almost everything an expression of a deeper
aspect of the Universe. In this he is something of a mystic and a
good deal of an idealist; but he is an interesting and very well read
idealist. Indeed, his exposition 1 is so enriched with quotation and
illustration that his message comes through with difficulty. Never
theless, one feels he has the truth of the matter. He is an intuitionist
rather than a rationalist; he is interested more in Life than in mere
logic; he is rather scorriful of the glibness of the Freudian treatment
of the subconscious; he would have the poet s inspiratiori spring from
this deeper aspect of life.
A few citations will give the author s point of view: "What I would
convey, then, is that beyond or within all sides is a centre of gravity,
the hearth-fire of the Universe; where free from the pull of any and all
phases, is the Central Life of Peace that passeth Understanding." "We
may see how that which dreams in Raphael s Madonnas, hovers about
REVIEWS 155
Corot s tree; that which calls Turner from the glory of sunsets over
wide spaces, whispers Corot iri the forest glades at dawn." "Granting
that primal harmony in a man, we may count on it winning to ex
pression some way: whether it take shape among us as poem, picture-
symphony, or in a life well lived, need hardly be matter for our troub
ling: so it flows from Cosmic fountains, its authenticity will be re
vealed in what we term tone, color, rhythm, harmony, proportions."
How shrewd and sound the author s judgment can be is evidenced
by the following critical remark: "Freud, say, would have Sex set
about and behind these activities. If by sex he would connote life-
desire, then maybe the flowers would smile with him, the stars twinkle
approval."
The book is, however, marked by an exposition of the theme so
overburdened by illustration and incident as to be somewhat irritating.
H. T. Lovell.
JOURNALS RECEIVED.
THE JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY. Edited by Professors Woodbridge
and Bush, Columbia University. Published fortnightly: four
dollars per annum.
Vol. XXII. No. 1. Jan. 1, 1925. Francis Herbert Bradley: B. Blan-
shard. The Non-Existence of Time: C. J. Ducasse. No. 2. Jan. 15.
"Things": G. S. Fullerton. Behaviourism and Purpose: E. C. Tolman.
Twenty-fourth Annual Meeting of the Eastern Division of the American
Philosophical Association : H. W. Schneider. No. 3. Jan. 29. Valuing
and the Quality of Value: M. E. Clarke. Personality as a Category:
C. L. Barrett. No. 4. Feb. 12. Social Interpretations of Ethics: W. B.
Mahan. Is Purpose only Mechanism Imperfectly Understood? W. D.
Wallis. No. 5. Feb. 26. The Insurgence against Reason, L: M. R. Cohen.
The Meaning of Value: John Dewey.
PSYCHE. Edited by C. K. Ogden. Kegan Paul, Trench, Trubner &
Co., London. Published Quarterly. Price 5/-.
Vol. V. No. 3. Jan. 1925. Complex and Myth in Mother-right: B.
Malinowski. The Nature of Genius: G. Ambrose. The Limitations of
Experimental Aesthetics: H. D. Waley. Experiences with Two Psycho
analysts: W. P. Farrow. The Divorce from Symbiosis: H. Reinheimer.
Helpful Imagination: A. M. Mantell. The Shelleyan Ethos arid Pathos.
DIVUS THOMAS. Commentarium de Philosophia et Theologia. Col-
legio Alberoni. Piacenza. Published Quarterly. Annual subscrip
tion, 25 Lire.
28th Year. No. 1. Jan. 1925. Principium causalitatis et existentia
Dei: S. Bersani. Einstein y S. Tomas: L. Urbano. De doctrina hyle-
morphica: P. Geny. Circa Dogmatum homogeneam evolutionem: R.
Schultes. Ultrum possit Summus Pontifex delegare simplicem presby-
terum ad conferendum diaconatum vel etiam presbyteratum?
156 JOURNALS RECEIVED
E. Hugori. La relativata di Einstein e la metafisica: R.
Petrone. Ugo di Mortagne autore della Summa Sententiarumt
P. Castagnoli.
INTERNATIONAL JOURNAL OF PSYCHO-ANALYSIS, Official Organ
of the International Psycho-Analytical Association. Edited by
Ernest Jones. Bailliere, Tindall & Cox. London 1 . Published
Quarterly. Annual Subscription, 30/-.
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NOTES AND NEWS 157
NOTES AND NEWS.
The Third Annual Meeting of the Australasian Association of
Psychology and Philosophy was held at the University of Sydney,
May 21st-23rd. The Inaugural Address was delivered by the Retiring
President, Professor W. R. Boyce Gibson, subject: Does the Ideal Really
Exist? During the other four sessions, papers on the following subjects
were read and discussed: Psycho-biology and Democracy: Professor
W. Anderson, Auckland. The Problem of Time in Contemporary Philo
sophy: Professor J. Alexander Gunn, Melbourne. Kemp Smith s Theory
of Sensa: H. C. Becroft, Auckland. The Intelligence of Juvenile Delin
quents: Lucy Firth, Sydney. Studies from a Psychological Clinic:
Professor E. Morris Miller, Hobart. Ethnological Types: Professor
Griffith Taylor, Sydney. The Case for Psychological Investigation of
Immigrants: Dr. A. H. Martin, Sydney. Economic Aspects of Popu
lation: Professor R. C. Mills, Sydney. Some of these papers will be
published in later numbers of the Journal.
The first meeting of the Sydney Branch of the Association was
held at the University, on May 7th, when Professor Lovell (re-elected
President) read a paper on "The Mind of Primitive Man."
A new branch of the Association has been constituted at Auckland,
N.Z. (Hon. Secretary and Treasurer, H. C. Becroft, M.A., 29 Wairiki
Rd., Mt. Eden, Auckland) ; and arrangements have been made for the
constitution of another branch at Victoria College, Wellington, N.Z.
Secretaries of all local brariches of the Association are requested to
send reports to the Editor of the Journal.
Miss D. M. Rivett, M.A., has been appointed Assistant Lecturer in
Philosophy at Sydney University, under the new scheme for the exten
sion of University teaching to country districts of N.S.W. The follow
ing new appointments have also beerf made at Sydney University:
Demonstrator in Psychology: B. C. Doig, B.A. Tutor in Psychology
and Philosophy: Kathleen M. Donovan, M.A. Science Research Lecturer
in Psychology: R. Simmat, B.A.
We grieve to record the death of an esteemed contributor to the
Journal and a member of the Association, the Rev. N. J. Cocks, M.A.
Mr. Cocks was a man of many-sided culture, with a distinctly original
philosophical and poetic capacity. He was Gold Medallist in Philo
sophy at Sydney University, 1892.
the Australasian Association of Psychology and Philosophy.
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r
Vol. III. SEPTEMBER, 1925. No. 3
Cbcflimralasian Journal
OF
Psychology - Philosophy
Edited by FRANCIS ANDERSON, M.A.,
Emeritus Professor of Philosophy in the University of Sydney
With the co-operation of
W. ANDERSON, M.A. (Auckland) H. T. LOVELL, M.A., PH.D. (Sydney) .
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S. C. LAZARUS, M.A., D.PHIL. (Melb.) }. McK. STEWART, M.A., D.PHIL. (Adel)
CONTENTS
>oes the Ideal Really Exist? By Professor W. R. Boyce Gibson,
MA.. D.Sc.
Professor Kemp Smith s Theory of the Sensa. By H. C. Becroft,
M.A.
Motion Study and Psychology. By Eric Farmer, M.A
The Psychological Examination of Immigrants. By A. H. Martin,
M.A., Ph.D.
Psychological Studies (2) Aversion in Timon of Athens. By
Professor L. H Allen, M.A., Ph.D.
Researches and Reports. The Application of intelligence Tests
to Personnel in a Retail Store. By Winifred Taylor.
Discussion: Behaviour and Modern Biology. By Dr. A. H. Martin,
and R. Simmat, B.A.
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VOL. III. SEPTEMBER, 1925. No. 3.
DOES THE IDEAL REALLY EXIST >*
By W. K. Boyce Gibson, M.A., D.Sc., Professor of Philosophy
University of Melbourne.
THE term "Idealism/ as Prof. Hcernle has recently reminded
as, refers us back to the two underlying conceptions "Ideal" and
"Idea." Verbally idea" is primitive, and "ideal" from the adjective
"idealis," is a late Latin word. But we cannot infer from this that
the notion of the "Ideal" is less primitive than that of the "Idea."
Indeed the contrary is true. Not the least significant of the dis
coveries of Pythagoras, if tradition can be trusted, was his insight
that the philosopher was not the wise man but the seeker after wis
dom, and philosophy, as its name now indicates, not so much wis
dom as the love of it. The Ideal, as the object or end of aspiration
is on this view more fundamental than the Idea as the object or
subject-matter of cognition: and it is in this sense, I believe, that
Plato himself conceived the relation of Idea to Ideal. The primacy
of the Ideal is, I should say, despite all ambiguities of expression,
a characteristically Platonic doctrine.
In the Dialogues we have a threefold presentation of the Ideal
in its relation to philosophy : of Truth, in the first instance, as the
fount of inspiration in the philosopher s own life; secondly, of
Beauty as the nourisher of Truth itself, the source of science as well
as the goal of love; and finally of the Good as the ultimate spring
of knowledge, and more beautiful even than Beauty. Let us
briefly consider these three presentations.
As illustrating the influence of Truth on the life of a philo
sopher, we turn to the picture of Socrates as framed in the Apology.
There he figures as the fearless and devoted seeker after Truth, not
only cherishing his own soul as the divine organ through which
alone Truth is seen and grasped, but driven by an impulse which
he cannot resist to expose error and fraud in the souls of his fellow-
men whenever he detects them. "And so I go about the world,
obedient to the god, and search and make enquiry into the wisdom
of any one, whether citizen or stranger, who appears to be wise;
and if he is not wise, then in vindication of the oracle I show him
that he is not wise; and my occupation quite absorbs me, and I
have no time to give either to any public matter of interest or to
any concern of my own, but I am in utter poverty by reason of my
*Presidential Address delivered at the Third Annual General Meeting of
the Australasian Association of Psychology and Philosophy, held at Sydney
University, May 21-23, 1925.
160 DOES THE IDEAL REALLY EXIST 9
devotion to the god." (Apology, 23, Jowett s Trans.) What
stands out most convincingly in the defence-speech of Socrates is
the fixity of direction and conviction which his life has won from his
loyalty to an Ideal. He has had a vision of Wisdom which makes
him set up the truth above all the idols of the forum and the den,
and in this quest after the true wisdom he will take the indicated
way, indifferent whether it leads him through the valley of Death or
not. The way of the philosopher he believes to be the one true
way for every man, the only way along which the self can be found
and the soul saved. And we see that in his own case it is the Truth
and that alone which makes him steady in all his loyalties, enabling
him through his whole defence and after it to rise superior to his
accusers and judges alike, and be most imperturbably himself at a
time when all the shows of things present him as a doomed pris
oner before the bar. This great directing unifying power within his
life, this ideal of Practical Wisdom, is the authentic source of all
that is fixed and unfaltering in his attitude and behaviour. The
condemned Socrates might still have saved his life not only by the
unthinkable course of giving up philosophy, but by leaving Athens
as an exile. Why did he not do so ? We are told the real cause for
this in the Phaedo: "The Athenians thought it right to condemn
me," says Socrates, and "I have thought it right and just to sit here
and to submit to whatever sentence they may think fit to impose.
For, by the dog of Egypt, I think that these muscles and bones
would long ago have been in Megara or Boeotia, prompted by their
opinion of what is best, if I had not thought it better and more hon
ourable to submit to whatever penalty the State inflicts, rather than
escape by flight." What is right, what is just, better and more hon
ourable, these to Socrates were the real causes, the primary motives,
incomparably more potent than the instinct of self-preservation.
One is reminded of the fine dictum of Kant: "If justice perishes,
it is no longer worth while for man to live upon the earth."
We turn now from the Ideal of Truth to that of Beauty and to
Plato s discussion of it in the Symposium. In this dialogue the
Intellectual Love of a Beauty that is unchanging and everlasting
is the main theme of the Banqueters. The Idea of Beauty is de
picted as a final cause and disciplining power drawing the soul for
ward to the love of beautiful forms, and from the beauty of the out
ward form to the beauty of the mind, leading it then to see and love
the beauty of institutions and laws, and then of science also until
"at last the vision is revealed to it of a single science which is the
science of beauty everywhere." And the true order of going, or
being led by another, to the things of love, is to begin from the
beauties of earth and mount upwards for the sake of that other
DOES THE IDEAL REALLY EXIST? 161
beauty, using these as steps only, and from one going on to two, and
from two to all fair forms, and from fair forms to fair practices,
and from fair practices to fair notions, until from fair notions he
arrives at the notion of absolute beauty, and at last knows what
the essence of beauty is." (Symposium, 211, Jowett s Tr.) The
Ideal Value here is Beauty, Beauty intrinsic, objective, and discern
ible only to the intellect. This Beauty is the ideal which draws out
the aspiration of its lovers working within their minds as a final
cause, or motive, which reveals its true nature only at the end. It
is above all a beauty of order and symmetry, of the laws and prin
ciples of number, and it may not be amiss to compare with this
Platonic conviction concerning the nature of Beauty the similar
witness of a great mathematician of our own time, possibly the
greatest the last century produced.
Henri Poincare held that mathematical genius had its roots in
a certain special sensibility of an aesthetic kind. Truth alone is
beautiful, we read ("Foundations of Science," tr. Halsied, p. 205),
and we should seek the true solely for its beauty" (id. p. 368). It
is Beauty, Intellectual Beauty, which makes intelligence sure and
strong (id. p. 368). "The scientist does not study nature because
it is useful ; he studies it because he delights in it, and he delights
in it because it is beautiful. If nature were not beautiful, it would
not be worth knowing, and if nature were not worth knowing, life
would not be worth living. Of course I do not here speak of that
beauty which strikes the senses, the beauty of qualities and appear
ances, not that I undervalue such beauty, far from it, but it has
nothing to do with science. I mean that profounder beauty which
comes from the harmonious order of the parts and which a pure in
telligence can grasp. This it is which gives body, a structure so to
speak, to the iridescent appearances which flatter our senses, and
without this support the beauty of these fugitive dreams would be
only imperfect, because it would be vague and always fleeting. On
the contrary, intellectual beauty is sufficient unto itself, and it is for
its sake more perhaps than for the future good of humanity, that
the scientist devotes himself to long and difficult labours." (id. pp.
366-367).
We pass on now to those vital pages in the Republic in which
the nature of the Ultimate Ideal of all philosophical aspiration is
declared to be something more profound even than Truth itself,
and more beautiful than Beauty, namely the Good. The Idea of
the Good is presented in the Republic as the supreme reality which
the rulers of the Ideal State must contemplate continually, that
their rule may be just and their judgment right, and the earnestness
with which the Ideal is here set before us as the supreme reality is
162 DOES THE IDEAL REALLY EXIST?
as impressive as is the sincerity of the genuine Truth-seeker which
wins our admiration in the Apology. We may safely say that there
is no tenet more characteristic of the Platonic outlook than his view
that the Universe is held together in all its parts by the power of
the Good. We have the first explicit declaration of this doctrine in
the Phaedo. Socrates had come across the view of Anaxagoras that
it is Mind which orders and is the cause of all things, and expected
to be informed how everything was ordered by Mind for the best.
Instead of this he was told how things held mechanically together :
the conditions of possible happenings were laid bare in an orderly
way and presented as the causes through which mind acted, but
nothing was said of the real cause, "of the binding force of good
which really binds and holds things together." (Phaedo, 99, tr.
Church). Plato s latest dialogue, the Timaeus, is a sustained at
tempt to remedy that defect and to show that the Universe is in
telligible just in proportion as it is the best possible in every detail.
Xow in the Republic, where trained and prolonged insight
into the nature of the Good is held to be an essential preparation
for just rule in the Ideal State, an attempt is made to define this
nature and specify its function. We are told that the good is not
existence, but far exceeds existence in dignity and power (vi. 509),
that it is the universal author of all things beautiful and right and,
in particular, is the immediate source of reason and truth in the
intellectual world. "That which imparts truth to the known and
the power of knowing to the knower," says the Platonic Socrates,
"is what I would have you term the idea of the Good." (vi. 508. tr.
Jowett). Now this deliberate definition of the Idea of the Good
enshrined at the very heart and centre of Plato s greatest work, and
assigning to the Ultimate Idea a most impressive nature and func
tion, brings to a head the difficult problem of the relation of Ideal to
Idea in the thought of Plato.
It is Aristotle who tells 1 us (Metaphysics M. 1078 b. 9) that
the need for the Ideal Theory arose in the first instance from the
recognition that there could be no knowledge of sensory things,
since things of sense were in constant flux. "If then there were
still possible science and knowledge of anything, there needed to be
assumed permanent existences distinct from the sensible" : a realm
of Ideas must be set over against the world of sense. Thus it is as
the indispensable object of knowledge that the Idea first makes its
appearance in the history of philosophy. On this essential point the
Platonic Dialogues support the testimony of Aristotle. The true
objects of scientific knowledge, according to the Platonic Socrates,
are certain real essences which Thought alone can know, and these
he called Ideas.
DOES THE IDEAL REALLY EXIST? 163
If we now revert to the passage in the Republic where Plato
defines for us the Idea of the Good, to the passage where he identi
fies it with "that which imparts truth to the known and the power
of knowing to the knower," it is indeed hard to see how an entity so
defined could fulfil specifically the original function for which an
Eidos was intended, namely, to provide a legitimate object for
knowledge. That which makes knowledge possible by pro
viding an intelligible object as well as an intelligent
knower might well be the Cause of all that is rational
in the world, the Source of rationality and of knowledge itself, but
it could not be simply identified with the knowable object. And
if we turn to other passages in which the Ideas are discussed, we
can hardly help remarking that the Ideas of the Good, of Beauty,
of Truth, of the One, normally referred to in a class apart, as an
order of Ideas distinct from the ideas of things organic or inorganic
and even from the mathematical or ideal numbers, are not really
Ideas at all in the original sense of that term. They are not objects
of knowledge, but Sources Whence those objects flow. It is true
that they are referred to as Ideas, in the Phaedo, for instance, we
read of "Beauty, good and the other ideas" (76), but they occupy
a manifest place of honour. We have only to consider the famous
speech of Diotima in the Symposium and the reflections of Socrates
at the close of the sixth book of the Eepublic to persuade ourselves
of this. And if we turn to the rough classification of Ideas in the
first part of the Parmenides, it is significant that whereas the Young
Socrates thinks there is a separate idea of likeness and of the One
and the Many, and is undecided whether to accept a separately exist
ent idea of men, fire or water, and is decided, tho not without some
qualms, that there can be no ideas of hair, or mud or dirt or of
anything vile and paltry, he is quite sure that he would make abso
lute ideas of the just and the beautiful and of all that class. These
are in fact the absolute ideas par excellence: they at any rate do
really exist and the Idea of the Good which has such affinity with
the Idea of the Beautiful and is the source of Science and Truth is
the fountainhead of all values as well as of all existence.
We are thus led to believe that though Plato does not verbally
distinguish between Idea and Ideal, he is very much alive to their
real difference. The Good, that which transcends knowledge as its
very source, the goal of its aspiration and in this sense its Ideal,
cannot be the mere object of knowledge, and yet Plato calls it an
Idea. It is therefore not surprising that there should be uncer
tainty among the experts as to whether the Idea of the Good is or is
not to be identified with the Perfect Soul which Plato calls God.
164 DOES THE IDEAL REALLY EXIST?
Dr. Inge puts one viewpoint very simply when he remarks
(Philosophy of Plotinus II., 126) that "the identification is im
possible, because for Plato God is a Soul, not a Form. The Form
of the Good is rather the pattern which the Creator copies in mak
ing the world." This would, I think, be conclusive if the Idea of the
Good were really no more than an Idea or Form. But we have
seen that for Plato it is not a Form but a Source of Forms. A Form
is essentially a real existent, whereas the Idea of the Good subsists
beyond existence, beyond any being that can be intelligible to us.
There might well be a sense in which this transcendent Source of
Ideas was itself a Soul. Prof. Webb again, whilst himself con
vinced that "the God whom we worship must be the Highest, must
be what Plato called the Idea of the Good" holds it probable "that
Plato did not identify God with the Form or Idea of the Good, but
rather regarded him as a Soul, informed by that Idea" (God and
Personality, p. 174).
Professor Adam, on the other hand (The Religious Teachers of
Greece, Lect. xxi-xxii) makes out an excellent case for the view that
the Idea of Good stands for Plato s philosophical conception of God.
In the Republic the young are taught as the basic religious doctrine
that God is good, and as this preliminary education is meant to
pave the way for the later one which is to have its ultimate root in
the doctrine of the Idea of the Good, "it would seem that the Idea
of Good is the philosophical fulfilment of the doctrine of the divine
goodness already imparted at an earlier stage of intellectual develop
ment." Moreover, if we compare the respective positions assigned
to the Idea of the Good in the Republic and to the Creator in the
Timaeus we see that "the same characterisics and activities are as
signed to both." Indeed, we read, "the whole of the Timaeus is only
a kind of elucidation of one of the functions 1 which the Republic
assigns to the Supreme Idea, that of the efficient or creative Cause."
If we accept this view as developed by Prof. Adam, we must admit
that in certain cases at any rate, what Plato calls an "Idea" is really
a Soul, and that therefore the Ideal which is the goal of all aspir
ation after goodness what Plato calls the Idea of the Good is
nothing less than a Perfect Soul.
Now I do not wish to suggest that it was ever Plato s inten
tion to identify Soul and Idea. But I would venture the view that
in Plato s own conception of the Idea the Ideal occupies a leading
position, and that in so far as there is a tendency to identify Idea
and Soul, it is due to this inclusion under one name of the Ideal and
the Idea. Plato s broad view of the term "Reason" is no doubt partly
responsible for the ambiguity. Reason, with Plato, loves as well as
DOES THE IDEAL REALLY EXIST? 165
knows, aspires as well as argues, is in fact "a twofold thing."*
Hence the Ideal that is loved and the Idea that is known fall natur
ally together as in one aspect or the other the proper object of
Reason.
There is a well-known passage in the Sophist where the Eleatic
Stranger, having agreed with Theaetetus that the soul knows and
that being or essence is known, endeavours to show that what is
known, being acted upon by knowledge, must be in motion, and
not only move but also live and think. Can we ever be made to
believe that motion and life and soul and mind are not present with
perfect being? Can we imagine that being is devoid of life and
mind, and exists in -awful unmeaningness, an everlasting fixture?"
And Theaetetus replies : "That would be a dreadful thing to admit,
Stranger." (Sophist, 249. tr. Jowett). In this passage Being or
Essence, namely that which is known, is regarded as being of the
nature of soul and mind. Briefly, so it would appear, the real exist
ences which are the objects of knowledge are declared to be them
selves souls. But we should remember that underlying this argu
ment of the Eleatic Stranger there is his "notion" as he calls it,
that anything which possesses any sort of power has real existence,
and that the definition of being is simply power. Now it is true
that the notion of power is directly connected in Plato s mind with
the nature of soul. The soul is essentially and in idea the self-
mover, possessing the intrinsic power not only to move itself but to
move all else besides, and in particular to control and direct the
body. Power, in fact, belongs essentially to the soul, for it is the
soul that moves things and it is the soul that knows. And if we
turn once again to the Symposium and Republic and to the account
there given of the Ideas of Beauty and of Good, we see at once that
these Supreme Ideas are pictured not only as real or super-real
existences but as seats of power. They possess notably the unique
power of drawing the soul towards reality. The Idea of Beauty is
explicitly declared to be the final cause of all the passionate
search which preceded it, directing it from one rung in the ladder
of ascent to the next, and revealing itself in its full and sudden
splendour only at the end; and, a fortiori, this holds true of the
good for as the Platonic Socrates surmises in Bk. vi. of the Republic,
none will know the just and the beautiful satisfactorily till he
knows the good. Moreover, apart from the power of these supreme
Ideas in their function as final causes, the Idea of the Good in
particular, as the Sun of the Ideal World and the source of that
light of reason which gives insight to the mind s eye and intelligi-
* Barker, Greek Political Theory, I. 268.
166 DOES THE IDEAL REALLY EXIST?
bility to its objects, is expressly declared to be a power. "This power
which supplies the objects of real knowledge with the truth that
is in them and which renders to him who knows them the faculty
of knowing them, you must consider to be the essential Form of
Good": the Good, far from being identical with real existence,
actually transcends it in dignity and power. (Rep. 508, tr. Da vies
and Vaughan.)
Plato s answer to the question "Does the Ideal really exist?"
would then seem to be somewhat as follows: "The Ideal Good is
the very source of all that deserves to be referred to as a real exist
ent. As such it exists in a transcendent and superlative sense, but
a sense very hard to define, so hard that we get our firmest grasp
of it through holding its image, the godlike Sun, before our minds,
and above all the mediating light that illumines the eye and reveals
the object. And its function is not only that of revelation but of
creation and direction also. It is not lightly to be identified either
with the Soul or with the Idea. As creator it is self-moving like
the Soul, but it lacks the obvious selfhood which would enable the
soul to greet it as of its own kith and kin. Again, as essential to
the very possibility of knowledge it resembles the Idea as object,
but in a more eminent way, for by its transcendence of both subject
and object alike it first brings both the essential opposites in know
ledge into working relationship with each other." This, I think, is
how Plato would conceive the real existence of the Good. And yet,
though he oscillates between this affinity of the Ideal to Soul on the
one hand, and to Idea on the other, it would be misleading to sup
pose that with his bias towards transcendence and objectivity, the
Ideal could mean to him precisely what it means to corresponding
modern Thought. The modern conception of Reality connects it far
more closely with the requirements of experienceability and of in-
dubitability than is the case with Plato. And though transcendence
of relativity appears as essential to our conception of the real as it
did to Plato himself, the immanence of the real in the world of
change and of individual experience is a requirement of the modern
outlook which would not have appealed to Plato. Indeed the Aris
totelian revision of Platonic doctrine consisted essentially, as we
know, in transferring the emphasis from transcendence to
immanence.
To win the standpoint from which we can best face the pro
blem of a real Ideal in conformity with a modern outlook we must
get back to experience, search out that element in it which by pos
sessing indubitable reality will give us a sure basis for uniting
real existence not only with knowledge but with certitude ; and we
may then consider whether what we experience as the Ideal is 1 vitally
DOES THE IDEAL REALLY EXIST? 167
one, structurally and functionally, with what is most certainly real
to us, or is on the contrary a mere fictive concept whose sole good
office it is to promote and foster useful illusions.
It is remarkable that Plato who attaches so much importance
to the Self and to the soul s personal immortality, should have said
so little about the problem of Self -Knowledge. He does not analyse
the complexities involved in the notion of an Idea of the Soul, and
he does not appear even to have admitted the legitimacy of this
Idea. The Charmides, it is true, brings up the topic of self-
knowledge, but rather as the knowledge of knowledge than as the
knowledge of self. In one dialogue of very doubtful authenticity,
the Alcibiades I, the problem of self-knowledge is indeed quite de
finitely broached. After an allusion to the text inscribed on the
temple at Delphi, Know Thyself, Socrates proposes to Alcibiades that
they should see in what way the self-existent can be discovered by
us. It is agreed that the self is essentially soul and the soul essen
tially reason, and the reason that part of the soul which resembles
the divine. To know ourselves we must look at Mind, the divine
part of our soul, "and at the whole class of things divine." But
the treatment despite its interest and suggestiveness lacks Plato s
usual profundity and shows no inkling of the real difficulties in
volved in the notion of self-knowledge, nor of the deep metaphysical
bearing of the problem.
With Descartes and the revolutionary insight which left the
consciousness of self central for philosophy, we reach the modern
standpoint from which the query which furnishes the title of this
address can best be considered. There is much in the Platonic out
look which converged towards this insight. As real existences both
Souls and Ideals should be objects of knowledge. But in what sense
is this possible? The self-moving soul is essentially a subject of
knowledge, not an object, and again Ideals are objects of aspiration
rather than of knowledge. Thus a conception of knowledge had to
be developed which would set it in its proper relation both to the
knower and to its intellectual aspiration. To this end the import
ant concepts of "consciousness" and "experience" needed to be
framed and immediate experience clearly distinguished from the
knowledge connected with it. Briefly it was necessary that the sub
jective should be more clearly distinguished from the objective, and
more particularly, so far as our problem is concerned, that belief
should be distinguished from knowledge, not as an inferior kind of
knowledge, as with Plato, but as a sense of experience of reality as
opposed to an intellectual grasp of it as true. It was the great
merit of Descartes that with these distinctions at his service, he
was able to see where the point precisely lay at which subjective
168 DOES THE IDEAL REALLY EXIST?
certainty and objective knowledge could harmoniously meet. Fol
lowing on the path of the sceptics, he was able to show that the al
leged real existence of all objects of knowledge could be doubted,,
and prove illusory, but that the doubter s doubt at any rate was
indubitable, however much he doubted. And the insight was cry
stallized in the famous saying "Dubito," or more generally, c Cogito r
ergo sum."
It is an interesting paradox that we must needs believe our own
doubt, and not only our doubt but all that our doubt implies for its
subsistence, more particularly that which gives the act of doubting
its unity. The doubt, if it has any philosophical relevance, is
reasoned and it is mine, for all doubts are personally owned. Hence-
the doubter cannot doubt his own self -existence as a doubter. Thus
a limit is assigned to scepticism and an inconcussum, an unshake-
able stronghold, provided for a system of philosophy that will har
monize the subjective requirements of conviction with the objective:
requirements of knowledge.
I may restate this conclusion in other words: I may say, in-
Cartesian phraseology, that I have a clear and distinct perception
and in this sense an intellectual intuition that the conviction I pos
sess of existing as a thinking being is indubitable and that no doubt
of mine can trouble it. Even if I were prepared to grant that
every judgment of mine about the universe was false in every de
tail, I should still have to admit as indubitable that I, the main-
tain-er of all these false judgments, existed as a maintainer of judg
ments of some sort about the universe. This then is the pin-point
rock. No science or philosophy which aspires to be intelligible and
to deal with an intelligible world can legitimately doubt that in
some genuine sense I am conscious of myself as a rational being.
Tt is important however that we should not put more into this
starting-point than it will logically hold. Descartes intellectual in
tuition may give me clear and distinct logical assurance that "my
existence as a rational being" is indubitable, as indubitable as the
sceptic s own doubting. But it cannot convey this assurance intel
ligibly to me unless through my own immediate experience, I have
direct -experiential witness of my own rational existence. This
experiential intuition cannot give me any logical guarantee. It can
not enable me to decide whether my self -consciousness is an appear
ance only or a reality. But, apart from it, the intellectual and log
ical insight that my own rational existence is indubitable could mean
nothing to me. Descartes intellectual intuition therefore presup
poses experiential self-intuition, and the two should neither be
confused nor separated. And there is a further point of funda
mental importance. The self-consciousness, more strictly the
DOES THE IDEAL REALLY EXIST?
"myself-consciousness" which Descartes Intellectual Intuition
guarantees as a sure starting-point for knowledge is not itself an
item, however privileged and fundamental, in a system of know
ledge. It may be the Source of all true knowledge of Reality, it is
not a first principle or constitutive axiom within this Knowledge
system, and, in that capacity, final, absolute, and unimpeachable.
All knowledge is a system of interpretations, and no interpretation
can ever claim to have fathomed the full meaning or said the last
word. In some sense or other my rational self-consciousness in
dubitably exists. But in what precise sense it remains for philo
sophy to interpret as best it can. And no interpretation can ever
claim finality. It is as possible and as desirable to improve on one s
knowledge of self as of everything else. Let us cleave then to our
starting-point as tenaciously as we do to our very reason, and yet
show all reasonable humility in the further and quite different
matter of interpretation.
Bearing these distinctions in mind, let us return to what we
have referred to already as "experiential intuition," to the immedi
ate experience we have of our own existence, in a word, to our own
self -consciousness. Self-consciousness we take to be distinct from
self-knowledge, to be in fact no more than a form of observation of
a unique and intimate kind. It is the observation not of an object,,
but of a subject. Were it the observation of an object, its indubi
table genuineness could not have been shown to the sceptic. For
all objects may be illusory, whereas the subject to which illusory
objects are presented is as real as the subject to which non-illusory
objects are presented. To have immediate experience of myself is
therefore to have direct acquaintance with myself as the subject of
my own experiences. Whether it is at all possible to experience
oneself as an object is a further question, but it can be shown that
any such objective experience of self must pre-suppose as more fun
damental the direct experience of self as subject. The very fact that
we grasped it as an object would mean that we grasped it as an ob
ject for a subject. But how can we be aware of there being such a
thing as a subject unless w-e have immediate experience of ourself
as a subject? Thus we are driven back to the experience of self as
subject as at any rate the basic form of self-intuition or self-
consciousness. McTaggart, in his article on Personality in the
Encyclopaedia of Religion and Ethics, proves very effectively in my
opinion, that if "I" am to be known at all, it must be by awareness
and if not by awareness no proposition in which the term "I" occurs
can logically be asserted. His discussion serves to show that the
only way of approach open to self-knowledge is that of immediate
experience. It is true that he still maintains that the self can
170 DOES THE IDEAL REALLY EXIST?
know itself only by becoming its own object, that there can be no
direct awareness of subject as subject, a conviction which he shares
with J ames Ward. Ward discusses the matter in the 15th Chapter
of his "Psychological Principles" (pp. 380-381). He quotes from
Kant showing that Kant fully appreciated the crucial difficulty in
volved. "The whole difficulty/ says Kant, "lies in this, how a sub
ject can internally intuit itself." Ward s answer is that it cannot
do this directly but only through a reflexive process. The I (as sub
ject) is known reflectively in the me (as object), and this "because
the Me has been synthetically constructed by it." The I has built
up the Me and left its mark upon its work, so that the Me is 1 pene
trated by the nature of the I, and the I can be known reflexively
through the Me. Here again there is the failure or the refusal to re
cognize that the self can be known directly as a subjective activity,
and that this must needs be the fundamental form in which it is
known. For, grant that it can be known reflexively in the way
alleged by Ward, still such knowledge would presuppose the direct
subject-intuition. Otherwise how could the I be recognised in its
mirror, the Me? How could we have any cognizance of its funda
mental function as a subject?
We conclude then that we are directly aware of our own mental
activities, and not merely derivatively and reflexively. The analogy
of vision is here misleading. The physical eye, it is true, cannot
see itself. But it is precisely the capacity to see itself in its own
native functioning that differentiates most profoundly the mental
eye from the bodily.
If now we turn to our leading query concerning real existence,
we can see, I think, that we are justified in claiming real existence
for ourselves on the following ground : In the first place, I cannot
intelligibly doubt my actual existence as a rational being. Reason
combined with self-consciousness assures me that I have a logical
right to believe in myself as the unifying subject of my experiences.
But reality is not only a question of actual existence available to
self-intuition. Self-knowledge must supplement self-intuition,
and it is only through first a psychology and then a metaphysics of
self -experience that we can win stable insight into the nature of the
self s real existence, in that sense of the word "real" which implies
value and is sharply distinguishable from mere actual existence.
To develop all this adequately would require a bulky chapter
in First Philisophy, including a vindication of the thesis that
self-intuition or self-consciousness implicit and explicit is an
intrinsic quality of self-existence, and that self-consciousness is by
its very nature the consciousness of its own personal world. I will
content myself here with indicating two assumptions or postulates
DOES THE IDEAL REALLY EXIST? 171
which, in my opinion, a philosophy of self-knowledge which aims at
discovering the true nature of real existence must accept as
fundamental.
The first assumption concerns the nature of development, in
particular of self-development. When I say that something develops
or grows, I mean that it moves not by accident but by inner neces
sity or obligation from rudimentary beginnings to a phase of matur
ity, and I consider that we cannot justly explain the later stages
in terms of the earlier but are obliged to regard earlier and later
stages alike as successive phases through which one and the same
identical individuality passes on its way to maturity, the later stages
enabling us 1 to interpret the earlier ones that lead up to them. This
is what Caird has referred to as levelling up, explaining the earlier
in terms of the later, or in terms of value, explaining the lower
in terms of the higher. In so far as an actually existent being de
velops, his true reality must be looked for as something intimately
connected with the aim and end towards which the development is
moving. The real existence of a being that has needs to be satisfied
through growth lies in the process through which those deeds are pro
gressively satisfied and the intrinsic ends of its nature progressively
attained. My own real existence as a person would, on these lines,
lie in the course of experience through which the intrinsic ends of my
personal nature were progressively realised. It is as a subject of
aspiration, seeking to satisfy the fundamental needs of my deepest
nature, and thereby to find or recover my true personal unity that
I can justly, i.e. with metaphysical propriety claim real existence.
This reference to true personal unity may need a word of
explanation. It implies a contrast between two unifying functions
of the self, the one connected with the broader term "individuality,"
the other with that of "personality." In so far as 1 I am an indi
vidual, my world, as a network of possible experiences, is held to
gether as one world not in virtue of any rational principle of con
nection but solely through the singleness of my individuality. Every
organism wins the raw material for its own purposively directed life
in the form of immediate experiences 1 of a primitive kind. Indeed,
paradoxically enough, it can be affected by its environment only in
so far as it stamps on that environment the impress of its own indi
viduality and transforms its stimuli into possible experiences. Yet
the function of individuality is not only to integrate the resources
of the universe in the form of possible experiences but to develop its
own nature through some primitive form of aspiration after good. As
Plato and Aristotle both affirm, every living thing makes for the
good, pursues it and seeks to make it its own. In so doing it
reveals a new form of unification dependent not only on its own
172 DOES THE IDEAL REALLY EXIST?
nature as an individuality, but also and primarily on the nature of
the good itself. Unity of individuality is a formal requirement
shared in the same way by all organisms in virtue of their individu
ality. The unity which the organism wins through its aspiration after
what it deems to be its natural good is always and essentially a unity
in the making, a unity of growing coherence, an ideal unity which
is the goal of the organism s development and not a mere formal
unity whose most important function indeed is to render possible
the attainment of ideal unity.
I do not see how to make the notion of individual unity intel
ligible to myself apart from this distinction between its formal
and ideal aspects. When Individuality becomes explicitly conscious
of its world of possible experiences and of the self to be nourished
and perfected out of such experiences and developed in the direc
tion marked out by some idea of the good, it takes on a strictly
personal character. Personality, I take it, is essentially a product
of individual initiative and ideal guidance; it is what our indi
viduality develops into through its pursuit of the good, and it pre
supposes as the indispensable basis for its growth an innate capacity
to unify the universe in the form of experiences, what we have called
the formal unity of individuality.
Our first assumption then is a conception of development which
leads to the conclusion that we really exist in proportion as we shape
ourselves freely into personalities under ideal guidance.
The second assumption concerns the matter of personal immor
tality. I can do no more than point to the necessity for making it.
Unless there is that in our personal nature that is indestructible,
I should not be justified in accepting my own existence >as the in
dubitable starting point of a metaphysic. If the sceptic sees that he
must perforce admit his own existence as a doubter but takes refuge
in the further reflection that what he is thus bound to admit is no
more than that he exists as a thinker at the moment of his doubting,
very little will have been won. He would be obliged to admit the
indubitability of a certain transient form of existence which on
passing away would carry with it the whole ground for that indubi
tability. Philosophy would not have discovered the pin-point rock
it was in search of, but only a piece of shifting sandstone, and the
whole basis of knowledge would be left insecure. Now it is only on
the security of my own self-consciousness that the argument for the
real existence of the Ideal can be built up. Hence the possibility
of adequately vindicating the thesis of this paper depends 1 , in my
opinion, on the ability to justify personal immortality, i.e., persist
ent personal identity through every change, including that of death
itself. And this is the second assumption that I wished to indicate.
DOES THE IDEAL REALLY EXIST? 173
Let us turn now to the problem of the Ideal itself -and to the
query concerning its real existence. The objection that the Ideal is
a mere product of subjective thinking and nothing more does not
seem to me to be logically defensible, since thinking that is not
truth-thinking, i.e., a thinking motived by the will to think truly,
is simply not thinking at all. It is mere undirected imagining.
Moreover the thesis, taken seriously, would be a circular argument,
maintaining in effect nothing further than that the Ideal is a mere
product of Ideal-directed activity. But if we admit that Thought
presupposes the Truth-Ideal and does not produce it, we are ad
mitting that the Truth-Ideal immanent in all our thinking is es-
.eential to the intelligible structure of our thought, since thought
would be meaningless apart from it. Similarly the good which we
all pursue in all our strivings is so essential to appetite and desire
that the latter would be unintelligible apart from it. An activity
that does not proceed from the good could have no motive since the
.activity could have no value. That which is the source of value
cannot be the product of anything that depends for its direction
and development on a sense of value.
In opposition then to the argument that the Ideal is a mere
product of our human need, we maintain that it is essential to the
very notion of ourself >as a purposive agent, even when the term "I"
is used in its widest sense to cover every individual experiencer,
that is every living thing, for the unifying function that binds
together within a single individual bond all the individual s experi
ences in such a way as to promote and sustain the fundamental
needs of life is intrinsically purposive, and to that extent animated
however obscurely by the sense of -a good to be achieved. In this
broad sense all life is aspiration, and wins its vital unity through the
Ideal of the Good which directs its development and satisfies its
need.
The main difficulty in admitting the existence of the Ideals
I refer here to Truth, Beauty, and the Good is perhaps this, that
they do not appear to have that "being for self" which is so charac
teristic a feature of human existence. We have been led to accept
the life of aspiration as the fundamental form of real existence,
and clearly the Ideals which animate such a life are most intimately
related to it. But the Ideal as such does not appear to possess any
individual selfhood. We might perhaps seek to establish such indi
viduality on the lines along which the Personality of corporate in
stitutions like the State has been defended. But we should no
doubt find it as hard to ascribe self-consciousness, in its ordinary
% sense to the Ideal as we do to ascribe it to the State.
174 DOES TEE IDEAL REALLY EXIST?
But there is room here for a deeper interpretation. We may
admit that the Ideal has no separate self-consciousness, but is none
the less in the most intimate relation to all persons in the universe,
and indeed in a less developed sense to all living things, as that
power within their life which draws them in most diverse ways
towards Truth, Beauty and Goodness. Wherever there is striving
and desire, and more especially where there is explicit noetic aspir
ation, the presence and power of the Ideal is most intimately
manifest. What is there that enters more vitally into our soul s
very depths than the gleam of Truth and Beauty and the Hope of
Good ? And yet how are we to maintain that this soul of our very
soul is personal as we are, what evidence have we of this ? The very
fact that the Ideal can penetrate our life so intimately so as to be
come the very essence of our own being and the spring of all that
has personal or living value for us points rather to a power that
transcends the limits of personality. "I" and c Thou" as persons
remain personally distinct, however intimate the friendship. But
"I" and the "Ideal" interpenetrate, though without fusion. The
Ideal, profoundly immanent as it is, none the less 1 transcends
through its perfection the imperfect lives that cherish and revere
it. In Aspiration the Ideal enters intimately into my very nature,
for this Self of ours is in the making, and the Ideal is the warp
on which the personality of our aspiration is woven. We seem led
then to suppose that this intimate yet transcendent presence is an
existence of a higher order than our own, a supra-personal Being,
that its presence in our life is the continuous revelation of a Spir
itual Order, an Order which relatively to our striving and aspiration
is an Order of Perfection of which Beauty and Truth and Eight
are the triple inspiration. It is an Order adjusted to our freedom,
for its appeal is never a coercion nor do its obligations compel. And
the appeal is universal, relative to the deepest need of every living
being, and yet as perfection s very essence remaining ever self-same
and in its supreme demand abating neither jot nor tittle. Though so
intimately ourselves it remains the inaccessible standard that claims
our reverence and invites our worship. In the humblest recesses of
our own experience we have the data, if we have but the eyes to
see, for marking out the main characteristics of the spiritual order
and following them further into Science, Art and the Conduct of
Life.
If then the Ideal does really exist it would appear to do so in
a form that cannot be regarded as restrictedly personal. It exists
not as a soul but as a supersoul. As such it would be the most real
existence we know, the most real in the sense of being the very
essence of ourselves and infinitely more. Through .its indwelling, all
DOES THE IDEAL REALLY EXIST? 175
life is made one in aspiration as Aristotle well saw when in his
Theory of Development he made the love for the Unmoved Mover
the golden clue that binds all creation in a common destiny and
pilgrimage. You and I are distinct, but the Ideal that is of your
very essence is one and the same with the Ideal that is of my very
essence: therefore at the roots of Being where Selves are being
organised about the Ideal the same supersubstance may give single
unity to the whole world of life,, may, I say, because in all that
relates to the life of aspiration our own freedom is of the very
essence of the movement and our alliance with the Ideal must ex
press that freedom at every point.
It would hardly be fitting, I think, to conclude on this subject
of the Ideal and its alleged Eeality without a reference to the Kan
tian conception of the Eegulative Idea, as 1 it is the most plausible
substitute for the really existing Ideal and may seem to some to
present the Ideal in its true light and to prescribe to it its true
function.
There can indeed be no doubt that according to Kant s express
statement and conviction, the typical metaphysical Idea, the Idea
of the Unconditioned, has no reality as an object of knowledge. It
may help our thought to know, but cannot increase our knowledge.
Under "Ideas" Kant includes primarily those of an Unconditioned
Subject, of the World as a Whole, and of an Absolute Eeality ; more
briefly, though perhaps less exactly, the Ideas of Self, the World
and God. Moreover closely associated with this threefold concep
tion of the Idea we have the further and closely related subdivision
into "God, Freedom, and Immortality." Kant did not explicitly
include under the Idea of the Unconditioned the triad we refer to
as Truth, Eight and Beauty, though the three Critiques were pre
cisely concerned with these and the attempt to do critical justice to
them, but since the Ideals, as conceived by the Idealist, are intrin
sically unconditioned, they would necessarily figure among the Ideas
of the Unconditioned and Kant s critical treatment of the Uncon
ditioned in general would apply to them as well as to all other
ideas of this ultimate metaphysical kind.
It will not be possible for us to enter with any -adequacy into
the interesting question concerning the precise function of the Un
conditioned in relation to knowledge, as Kant conceived it. Valu
able work in this connection has been done by Norman Kemp-Smith
in his now famous Commentary. We learn in the first place that the
Critique, far from being a unitary work, was in -all probability com
posed by piecing together manuscripts written at various dates dur
ing the eight or nine years prior to its actual publication, and as it
was one of Kant s weaknesses to dislike intensely the sacrificing of
176 DOES THE IDEAL REALLY EXIST?
any argument "once consecrated by committal to paper," as Smith
puts it, the final copy preserves all the arguments quite regardless
of their consistency with each other, in so many layers or strata.
Hence, to understand the argument of the Critique, it is as essen
tial to be able to distinguish these strata and their respective datings
as it is to fix the order of the Platonic Dialogues by stylometric and
other methods if one wishes to follow the thought of Plato in its
origin and growth. Now if this insight is carried into Kant s hand
ling of the Idea of the Unconditioned, we are able to trace a two
fold point of view from Which its function is regarded by Kant.
There is a more or less sceptical viewpoint from which the Idea of
the Unconditioned is viewed as having originated in the service of
sensory knowledge and as having no other role than that of helping
the- scientific undersianding to perform its own specific work more
perfectly. There is no suggestion here that the Idea of the Un
conditioned is necessary even for purely scientific knowledge: at
most it is necessary for a more perfect grasp of such knowledge.
Moreover the "unconditioned" is treated here as a purely negative
concept reached empirically by simply removing all conditioning
limits, a device that science finds useful but by no means essential.
Science realises that things behave as though there were a principle
of infinity and unconditionedness present in the natural order, and
the Idea of the Unconditioned is therefore justified on the "as if"
basis, but no further. Briefly, on this view in its more strict ac
ceptance, the Ideas are mere convenient fictions not to be regarded,
even hypothetically, as representing real existences, but heuristic
conceptions only. Thus the concept of a supreme Intelligence will
not guide us to any objective reality. It is not expected to do this,
but only to help us in achieving the greatest possible unity in the
empirical employment of the understanding.
It is this aspect of Kant s treatment that has impressed Vaih-
inger, Kant s celebrated Commentator, as giving the real meaning
of the Kantian Ideas" and in the development of what he calls the
"As if" doctrine, in a large volume recently translated into English,
he relies fundamentally on Kant for the support of his main thesis.
But Kemp-Smith has drawn attention to a profounder line of
treatment which is as truly Kantian as the one stressed by Vaihin-
ger, and marks more particularly those portions of the Critique
which can be shown to be of later date and to contain his more
authoritative doctrine. According to this second view the Idea of
the Unconditioned is no longer a merely negative conception but
has a definite function in the opening up of a transcendental world,
a world beyond the purview of the categories of science. The Ideas
are not merely regulative, but regulative of an experience which they
DOES THE IDEAL REALLY EXIST f 177
also help to make possible. This gives them a true critical function,
a part to play together with the categories of the understanding in
the fundamental work of rendering experience as such intelligible.
Par from being derivative concepts obtained by merely omitting the
restrictions essential to our empirical consciousness, mere extended
concepts of understanding, they represent a factor essential to our
experience, a factor independent of the framework of science,
possessing a different origin, requiring a different faculty, and there
fore able through their superior reality to stamp scientific experi
ence as phenomenal only, in much the same way as a waking vision
will reveal the unreal character of a dream.
This second and more genuinely critical view of Kant s whilst
it gives the Idea an indispensable function in experience and
rescues it from the subservience to sensory reality implied in the
"as if" interpretation, does not grant to the Idea of the Uncon
ditioned any constitutive function in experience. Its function re
mains regulative only, and does not offer any guarantee of real
existence. However we interpret Kant, we cannot claim his sup
port for the thesis that Ideas have a real existence, and can legiti
mately be apprehended as possessing even phenomenal, far less
spiritual reality. Kant s argument does not deny that they possess
such reality but simply emphasises the impossibility of knowing this.
In the Critique of the Practical Eeason our moral intuition guaran
tees for us the reality of the Moral Law as possessing unconditioned
and absolute authority, but it is the Law of right and not any Ideal
of Good that here greets us as a revelation of the realm of spirit.
An important chapter in the History of Philosophy would be
covered could we halt at this point to bring out the inadequacy of
the Kantian survey of knowledge and the conditions of its possibil
ity in so far as it fails to accept self-intuition as the primary experi
ence and treats the unifying function in experience as a logical
instead of as a personal bond. Kant s critical discussion touches
only the problem of the experience of objects and of the conditions
which render possible a scientific knowledge of objects. A full dis
cussion should take in the more difficult problem of the experience
of the subjective as such and of the conditions which render pos
sible a science of personality. It is our conviction that when this is
done, a distinction will inevitably emerge between the mental life
as lived and directly experienced and the mental life as scientific
ally understood. Each insight carries its own characteristic type of
unity. The unity of life as lived is a unity of individuality; the
unity of life as scientifically understood is a unity of system, held
together through a nexus of valid ideas. Moreover a closer analysis of
experience as unified through a principle of individuality would dis-
178 DOES THE IDEAL REALLY EXIST?
close the essentially creative or purposively active character of such
experience, and bring out the further fact that all such purposive
striving is a striving to fulfil a need and that the fundamental need
of any living thing is the need for good. In this sense all sub
jectivity is aspiration, and we reach the point already emphasised
that the unity, the unifying bond of a life of aspiration is funda
mentally the Ideal, and that for all aspiration the Ideal is the super
latively real, the existent-possibly superpersonal in nature which
is bound up vitally with our self-existence as the sole source of in
trinsic and absolute value and apart from whose inspiration we
might indeed exist as animals but not distinctively as men.
NOTES BY THE WAY.
No. 6.
The Christianity of the Future.
There are some discoveries or revelations on which the human
race does not go back. Of these the Christian religion is one, and
modern science is another. Both have permanently enriched marfkind,
and it is almost inconceivable that either of them should disappear.
They will have somehow to be reconciled; and I agree with Eucken
that traditional Christianity will have to be drastically revised.
Whether the new form of Christianity will accept or reject the name
of Protestant does not much matter. It will belotfg, I think to the
Platonic or humanistic type, which has always existed in the Church.
Jt will be entirely independent of Rome, and will not conform to the
articles of belief of any of the great Reformed Churches. But it will
accept the moral teaching of the New Testament, and its devotional
life will continue to have its centre in the idea of the indwelling of
Christ.
Dean Inge, in the Atlantic Monthly.
179
PROFESSOR NORMAN KEMP SMITH S THEORY
OF THE SENSA*
By H. C. Becroft, M.A., Lecturer in Psychology,
Auckland Training College.
In his latest work, "Prolegomena to an Idealist Theory of
Knowledge," Professor Smith presents a distinctly novel view of
the nature and function of the sensa. He endeavours to steer clear
of both subjectivism and realism by denying on the one hand that
the sensa are qualities of objects, and on the other that they are sub
jective states of some perceiving mind. He attempts not only to
explain the sensa from the biological point of view, to show, that is
to say, the part that they play in the adaptation of the organism to
its environment, but also to justify his theory in terms of an idealist
philosophy which regards the genuineness of scientific knowledge
as one of its main supporting pillars and whose chief concern is to
ehow that aesthetic and spiritual values operate on a cosmic scale.
In short, Professor Smith s theory is primarily an attempt to show
not so much what the sensa are as why they are, and thus he is
chiefly concerned to explain the well-nigh complete differences
which we find to exist between objects as sensuously apprehended
and the nature of these objects as determined through scientific in
vestigation. It would seem then, that his aim is the attempt to com
bine an epistemology of the Kantian type with the naive realism of
the modern scientist. Greatly influenced by Alexander, he insists
throughout upon the independent reality of time and space, and thus
claims to steer clear of Kant s subjectivism. He differs from Alex
ander, however, in regarding the sensa as events demanding for
their occurrence supplementary conditions of a physiological char
acter, and not as qualities inherent in existing physical bodies. His
general thesis is thus twofold. I, Time, space and the categories
are directly apprehended as constituent of the natural world. II,
The sensa are events having a definite biological function, viz., that
of defining the perspective necessary for the purposes of practical
adaptation. While maintaining that these two fundamental tenets
agree in postulating the possibility of direct face to face apprehen
sion Smith is careful to point out that they call for separate proof.
Briefly, then, the aim of this short essay is to inquire into the nat
ure of this "separate proof," i.e., to consider the significance of both
tenets in the light of their bearing upon each other.
In the first place, then, we are to regard sense perception as
essentially practical in nature. The achievement of practical adapt
ation necessitates the adjustment of Nature to the dimensions of
*Read at the Third Annual General Meeting of the Australasian Association
of Psychology and Philosophy, held at Sydney, May 21-23, 1925.
180 THEORY OF THE SENS A
the animal and the human consciousness. Such adjustment, we are
told, has been brought about in the main by Nature s ingenious de
vice of the secondary qualities. "How complete for instance is the
transformation when the millions of violently energetic discrete
entities which compose a drop of water are apprehended as a uni
form whitish-coloured globule of seemingly continuous and quiescent
matter; and yet for the purposes of practical life, how convenient
and how entirely adequate." (Prol., pp. 11-12.)
The above theory, although suggestive, is characterised by a cer
tain vagueness which seems to be due in large measure to its naive
realistic starting point, the description of reality in terms borrowed
from the physicist. The theory seems undoubtedly to imply that
being is the fundamental category, that being real or being thought
or being anything whatsoever, is a more special thing than merely
being. The drop of water actually consists of molecules, atoms,
electrons, etc., not in the sense of being apprehended as such by the
scientist, but in the sense of existing in this form independently of
knowledge altogether. In other words, our starting point is onto-
logical in nature. We are then told that a remarkable transforma
tion takes place. The atoms, etc. change into the apprehension of
a drop of water through the instrumentality of Nature, a fairy God
mother who desireth not that her children should perish. Now, of
course, by a "transformation" is meant a "transformation of some
thing." Change implies something that changes, and so the out
come of the change must bear some resemblance at least to its initial
stages. A theory involving "absolute change" ipso facto commits
suicide. It is with considerable amazement, therefore, that we find
Smith calmly asserting that the molecules, etc., have changed into
the apprehension of a drop of water. The theory seems to involve
a complete confusion between the epistemological and ontological
aspects of realistic logic.
It may be pointed out, of course, that the above criticism is
misleading, in that the theory really implies a cognitive change. If
this be the Correct interpretation, however, it is evident that the
initial state of affairs cannot be adequately described in terms of
"being" alone. This raises the difficulty of assigning any intelli
gible meaning to the initial stage of knowledge when as yet the
scientist has not appeared on the scene. We are not putting for
ward the view that there is no difference between sense perception
and scientific knowledge. Undoubtedly different levels of know
ledge do exist and prima facie there is an obvious distinction be
tween the categorical and the hypothetical levels. It nevertheless
remains true, that if Smith is simply referring to the above-
mentioned types of knowledge, he completely vitiates the distinction
THEORY OF TU1E SENSA 181
between them by reversing the real order of development. Surely
sense-perception comes first, and not last in the order of evolution,
as on Smith s account of the matter.
It would seem, then, that his theory is really an attempt to
describe an impossible change from an abstract state of being to a
state of being known. If the first stage is one of apprehension
we must bring in either the scientist or some Absolute knower
(Alexander s angel) and both are equally impossible without violat
ing the general principle of the argument. The other alternative is
to regard the change as purely ontological, in which case the atoms
themselves really change into the sensa. The absurdity of this
position is obvious. From the ontological point of view, the atoms
must still be regarded as existing. Smith cannot mean that the
creation of the sensa involves the destruction of the atoms, electrons,
etc. It is only from the point of view of its appearance that we can
legitimately speak of "Nature adjusting itself to the human con
sciousness," and of the world s being "simplified by omission of all
but a small selection of its multitudinous detail/ and of the
sensa "defining the perspective necessary for the purposes of prac
tical adaptation." Moreover, if the purpose of this change is the
adaptation of the organism to its environment, we cannot assume
it to be other than gradual in its nature. In other words, if the
term "evolutionary" is to be understood in the biological sense, it
must follow that the sensa themselves developed, and that the un
scientific animals alone survived. The real scientist, of course, ap
peared later, but he owed his scientific insight to his own powers of
penetrating beyond the illusions of sense to the underlying reality.
It seems a legitimate question to ask whether this insight is not
again to prove his downfall.
The absurdity of this question shows the need for defining
the sense in which the scientist can be said to apprehend the mole
cular structure of reality. We must not forget that even the greatest
of modern scientists have not yet acquired such developed powers of
perception as to be able to perceive molecules, atoms, electrons, etc.
But is it not the case that Smith tends to argue as if scientific know
ledge and perception were identical in type? It may be true, of
course, that the difference between scientific knowledge and per
ception is a difference of degree rather than of kind, but we must
carefully note in what sense this is so. We must recognise that sense
perception contains hypothetical elements, and is imperfect from
the scientific viewpoint only because this ampliative aspect is not
rendered truly explicit. Smith s account of the matter, on the other
hand, seems to involve the denial of any hypothetical element in
either sensory experience or scientific knowledge. Qua knowledge
182 THEORY OF THE SENSA
both are complete in themselves and can stand alone. This criti
cism is again reinforced by Smith s conception of the physical
world as so extraordinarily complicated that anything approaching
complete experience of any one part of it far exceeds the utmost
capacities of the human mind. "Such exhaustive experience would
so bewilder and distract the mind that its primary function . . .
could not be efficiently exercised/ (Prol. p. 11). It is interesting
to note that for Smith there is nothing in the nature of knowledge
qua knowledge that precludes the possibility of such exhaustive
experience of part of the physical world. This way of looking at
the matter would seem to imply that reality is merely a collection
of discrete entities and perception a process of cramming some of
tnese into the mind. Confusion would result if too many were to
enter and so Nature resorts to the above-noted "simplification pro
cess" for the purpose of practical adaptation. In other words, adapt
ation is rendered possible by burying the troublesome molecules in
the unconscious.
Now, unless we accept a mere "storehouse" theory of being,
which necessarily fails to recognise the fact of implication, it is
difficult to see why a greater insight into the detailed structure of
reality should necessarily involve confusion and so distract the mind.
Smith s theory seems to involve a fallacy common to many psycho
logical theories of attention, viz., the absolute distinction drawn be
tween concentrated and diffused attention. We are told that because
of this psychological difference the watchmaker and the policeman
on point duty could not exchange occupations without disastrous re
sults. We are far from wishing to contradict the possibility of such
disastrous results, but simply because we believe in the truth of the
maxim that experience teaches. Surely we can believe the policeman
capable of extracting a splinter from his finger without calling the
watchmaker to his aid, just as we may believe the watchmaker cap
able of crossing the street without the policeman s assistance. At
tention cannot be defined as the apprehension of an entity, or col
lection of entities, and divided into types according to the number,
or size, of such entities apprehended. We must recognise that what
we attend to is a system pregnant with meaning, and we do not
do away with this factor of implication when we attend to a minute
object. An object does not become any the less a portion of a system
because it is small. A watchmaker with no marginal consciousness
has yet to be discovered. We cannot read any meaning into the
theory that direct face to face acquaintance with atoms would neces
sarily lead to mental confusion. I perceive an object 0. Examin
ing it more carefully I perceive its parts a, b, c, d. Further exam
ination leads to the perception of the parts of the parts, but does
THiEORY OF THE SENSA 183
this necessarily mean that I have become confused and can no
longer perceive as an object at all? Does the development of
consciousness imply a corresponding diminution of the unconscious ?
Obviously not, unless we adopt a purely artificial storehouse theory
of being. We may well admit that there are different levels of know
ledge as it were, but this is not to argue that consciousness grows
in the merely numerical sense at the expense of the unconscious.
When we examine Smith s theory in greater detail certain in
consistencies become more apparent. It is questionable if his argu
ment concerning the biological function of the sensa is self-con
sistent. He endeavours on the one hand, to explain mental per
spective in terms of sensa, and on the other, to prove the inter
dependence of the sensa, categorial relations, time and space. Surely
if such interdependence is admitted, if categorial thinking makes
both intuition and sensing possible in the sense that consciousness
involves all three, it is utterly inconsistent to separate out one of
these factors, viz., sensing, and in terms of it alone to attempt to
explain the apprehension of the public world in a unique perspective.
Smith contends that any theory which refuses to recognise that the
sensa in themselves are unextended utterly fails to account for the
facts of perspective and illusion. These latter facts then are to be
explained in terms of sensa alone. The sensa create the individual s
point of view. However, the sensa are not subjective; they are ob
jective, but unlike time, space and the categories they are private,
and herein lies the secret of their exclusiveness. Smith stands mid
way between the subjectlvist and the realist. According to the for
mer the sensa are subjective and private. According to the latter
they are objective and public, but according to Smith they are ob
jective and private.
Detailed analysis of the term "private" would seem necessary
at this stage. It savours of subjectivism, and the conception of the
gensa as both private and objective seems to imply what may be
termed a self-contradictory subjective realism. Apparently Smith s
method of evading this difficulty is the further description of the
sensum as an event, demanding for its occurrence supplementary
conditions of a physiological character. Hence the two-fold func
tion of the brain, as conditioning the very existence of the sensa,
as well as the various processes, sensing, intuiting and categorial
thinking.
A more complete separation of form and matter could hardly be
imagined. Sensing and the sensum are so utterly distinct that on
the physiological side we must postulate a twofold function of the
brain, viz., the conditioning of an ing and the creation of an um.
Now physiological processes are supposed to accompany intuiting
184 THEORY OF THE SENS A
and categorial thinking as well as sensing. Must we not then in-
quire how intuiting and categorial thinking can possibly reveal time
space and the categories as public? Smith s account of the matter
would seem to imply that brain activity is the cause of mental per
spective and illusion, not so much because it conditions the sensing-
but because it creates the sensum. But how can Smith refute the
hypothesis that time space and the categories also depend for their
existence upon the individual brain? Why should we assume that
the brain on the one hand conditions sensing, intuiting and cate
gorial thinking and, on the other, conditions the sensa but not time,
space and the categories? Surely such a breach between form and
matter ultimately lands us back in a dualism saturated with the
worst fallacies of subjectivism. If the sensum is really objective,,
how can it be the special property of any one individual observer?
As Holt has clearly shown, the fact of communicability alone pre
cludes the possibility of any such conception of privacy, peculiarity
or difference. (See e.g. "The Concept of Consciousness," pp. 151-
152). In any case if Smith is to adhere consistently to his separa
tion of the ing and the urn, there is not the slightest reason why the
individual observer should not be aware of the various sensa in, or
at least created by, another man s brain seeing that the sensa them
selves exist independently of the sensing. To argue that one can be
aware only of the sensa created by one s own brain, is simply to
argue that the two functions of the brain are not distinct at all, in
which case there is no alternative but to admit that if he sensa are
private, time, space and the categories must be so too. In any case
the conception of a private object is an entirely fallacious abstrac
tion. Different perspectives undoubtedly do exist, but surely as con
ditioning the very possibility of knowledge, not as distorting it.
It is true that Smith is anxious to refute any possible charge of
subjectivism, but his arguments in this connection are far from con
vincing. He tells us that "if what we experience is in any degree
and respect public and not private . . . then however partially
and distortedly it is apprehended we may by indirection find in its
appearances data sufficient for its true apprehension ... In
the awareness of time and space and therefore in some manner and
degree of the categories reality has secured direct representation in
the field of consciousness, and in so doing has imposed upon the 1
mind an objective interpretation of its private sensa." (Prol. pp.
229-232-233.) As Smith professes to reject representationism in all
its forms, he cannot consistently steer clear of subjectivism merely
by postulating a certain degree of publicity. Surely if we admit
any degree of privacy and distortion due to such privacy our only
alternative is to fall back into scepticism. To maintain that con-
THEORY OF THE SENSA 185
sciousness is characterised by an element of publicity, as well as of
privacy, is simply to return to the Cartesian doctrine of represent-
ationism. Neither can Smith avoid this impasse by drawing a dis
tinction between knowing "in terms of" and knowing "through"
sensa. All that he is concerned to prove here is that our knowledge
of space is not reached "through" the sensa, but is apprehended
intuitively "in terms of" the sensa. But although sensing a sen-
sum (a process by itself impossible?) yields no knowledge of space,
the sensa that are sensed, stand as representatives of a complex
reality, of which any direct revelation would lead to disaster. "For
what is it, that Nature has, so to speak, in view when it endows an
animal with the capacity for sense experience? That the animal
may be equipped for avoiding its enemies, etc. . . . For these
purposes objects do not have to be known as they exist in themselves
(italics mine). Thus a dog, in order to recognise water, and to
be able to satisfy its thirst by lapping it with the tongue, does not
need to apprehend its molecular, atomic, and sub-atomic structure.
That would be a harmful complication. The animal would be be
wildered by the multitudinous dancing particles." (Prol., p. 33.)
This representative function of the sensa is still more clearly
indicated in Smith s contention that "nothing that we experience
exists independently precisely in the form in which we experience
it. ... For though the independently real is tasted, smelt and
touched and is apprehended through its radiations of sound, tem
perature and light, we have no means of determining how far, or in
what manner, any of these qualities may precisely match those with
which it is intrinsically endowed." (Prol., pp. 227-228). In the
case of time, space and the categories on the other hand, reality has
secured direct representation in the field of consciousness. Ob
viously, then, the sensa are to be relegated to a neutral realm ap
parently less real than the reality which the sensa per se serve but
to distort and disguise, while time, space and the categories are
directly represented in consciousness, although they form the very
framework of the reality distorted by the sensa. In spite of this,
the latter are still objective, although apparently not in their own
right, but rather through the instrumentality of time, space and
the categories.
It would appear that many of the above inconsistencies result
from failure to discriminate clearly between an element of experi
ence and an aspect of experience. Although from a superficial
point of view the terms "element" and "aspect" may be regarded
as identical in meaning, failure to discriminate between them in
more comprehensive philosophical analysis can only result in dis
aster. To speak of mental elements is to adopt the physicist s
186 THEORY OF THE SEN S A
method of explanation. The suggestion is that the discriminated
element can and does exist per se as well as in combination with
other elements. To speak of discriminated mental "aspects" on the
other hand emphasises the concrete fact of identity in difference;
the term "aspect" implies inter-connectedness and system rather
than unrelatedness and barren identity. Although Smith criticises
associationism as implying a mental chemistry, he fails, in the de
velopment of his own theory, to keep in view the distinction be
tween "element" and "aspect" emphasised above. On the subjective
side " sensing a sensum" is clearly an "element" of conscious activity
when described as a unique type of cognition. On the objective side,
Smith is likewise viewing the "sensum" as an element, in so far as
he regards it as unextended. On the other hand, when he tells us
that intuition is impossible without categorial thinking, and that
sensing is likewise conditioned, that consciousness if limited to it
would thereby be made to vanish, "sensing a sensum" obviously must
be regarded as an "aspect" of mental process, which is neither
sensing in itself, intuiting in itself, nor categorial thinking in itself,
but an exceedingly complex process infinitely more than the mechan
ical combination of all three psychic elements. On the objective
side, again, he is regarding the sensum as an "aspect" of reality, in
so far as he emphasises its objectivity, its intimate relationship with
time, space and the categories.
It is important to note, too, that form and matter, if aspects
of conscious experience, are for Smith not aspects in the sense above
defined. They are most decidedly elements. Such a philosopher as
Bosanquet, we are told, saves himself a good deal of trouble by iden
tifying "experiencing" with "what is experienced," but according
to Smith he is only apparently successful because he diminishes the
importance of just those distinctions and values which are of chief
concern to us. Nevertheless it would appear that Smith has created
an insoluble problem by drawing a hard and fast line of demarcation
between "experiencing" and what is experienced. If we are to draw
a distinction between form and matter as elements, it is difficult
to see how we can possibly avoid creating a gulf which can never be
bridged. But this tendency to separate the form from the matter
of experience permeates the whole of Smith s philosophy. He
bifurcates experience setting "awareness" on the one side and "con
tent" on the other and claims in this way to save the objectivity of
the sensa. But surely the fact of communicability alone saves 1 the
objectivity, and saves it, too, without any disastrous bifurcation of
experience.
Everything turns on whether awareness is an element or an
aspect of knowledge; in other words everything depends upon
THEORY OF THE SENSA 187
Smith s interpretation of the self. In his "Studies in the Cartesian
Philosophy," Smith tells us that "self and not-self presupposing
one another, neither can precede the other, so as to render it pos
sible." (The Cartesian Philosophy, p. 263.) Such a proposition
obviously implies that the relation of mind and nature cannot be
adequately described in terms of the theories of psychological paral
lelism, interactionism, etc. That the nature of mind is to be viewed
in this light is again evidenced in his statement that "since aware
ness presupposes, for its very existence, an objective field, and since
this field has as its most fundamental features independent time
and space, the relation of mind and nature is, as we must recog
nise, a problem much more comprehensive than any dealt with in
the current theories of the relation of mind and body." (Prol. p.
225.) Now we unhesitatingly claim that Smith fails to adhere to
this theory of the interdependence of mind and nature. If we look
a little deeper, we find that the mind is not always conceived of in
terms of a subject-object relation, but falls to the status of a mere
subject, a subject of attributes, a mere "thing" located in the ex
tended. We are told that "if sense experience is to be of any use to
animals or to man, in their ordinary activities, it must be not a con
templative apprehension of things as they are in themselves but an
apprehension of them in their relation to the self (Prol. p. 194.)
Moreover, it is only when mind is conceived of in this way that his
argument concerning the privacy of the sensa can have any meaning.
Smith hopelessly confuses the subject-object relation with the cate
gory of substance. He tells us that "in the process of getting itself
into consciousness, the outer world has indeed become deprived of all
but a very small portion of its rich content, and what remains is al
tered and simplified in terms of the sensa which it brings into exist
ence through its action upon the living organism. (Prol. p. 227,
italics mine.) It need hardly be pointed out that if self and not-self
presuppose one another, to speak of the external world getting into
the mind is sheer nonsense.
Neither can Smith fall back upon the modern psychological
concept of the unconscious. From the point of view of the inter
dependence of the self and not self, the unconscious is implied in
the conscious, and not vice versa.. The only alternative
then is to conclude that the consciousness into which the
external world penetrates is located in the extended, appar
ently somewhere within the animal organism. We must
note, too, that the external world brings the sensa into exist
ence through its action upon the living organism, but surely from
the point of view of the interdependence of the self and not-self,
the living organism is itself part of the external world. If by "ex-
188 TIKEORY OF THE SEN SA
ternal" is meant "external to the organism" the external world that
becomes known, i.e., enters consciousness, cannot possibly include
the organism, and like the pragmatist we explain everything but our
knowledge of the instrument that is supposed to account for know
ledge itself. It would seem, then, that if the living organism is part
of the external world, the sensa resulting from the interaction of
elements within the external world, are themselves part of it, and
therefore public and objective.
We claim to have proved conclusively, therefore, that the
privacy of the sensa stands or falls with the truth or falsity of the
following propositions (a) The external world is the world external
to the bodily organism, (b) The mind is located within the bodily
organism, (c) The sensa resulting from the interaction of the ex
ternal world and the bodily organism come into existence at the
point of interaction. If the relation of mind and nature is the
comprehensive problem Smith himself supposes it to be, if, in
other words, self and not-self really do "presuppose one another so
that neither can precede the other so as to render it possible" it is
quite evident that Smith must regard the above propositions as ab
solutely false. On the other hand, it is quite impossible to read any
intelligible meaning into his theory of the sensa unless we regard
the above propositions as true.
We are forced to the conclusion, therefore, that the two funda
mental tenets comprising Smith s general thesis are mutually in
compatible and that what serves to hide this truth from Smith, is
the fact that he has not completely escaped from the cultches of sub
jectivism. The substance-attribute category is at work in Smith s
view of the self. Smith is still unduly influenced by the exclusive
conception of individuality as his use of the term "private" clearly
shows. As we have seen, he speaks of the external world getting into
consciousness; he even draws a sharp distinction between what he
terms "objects to" the self and "states of" the self. The sensa we
are told are not states of the self, but objects to the self, while pleas
ure and pain on the other hand are best regarded as states of the
self. So the self has both states and objects. Indeed he would inter
pret the term psychoplasm as applying to the subjective factors, the
powers, dispositions and processes by means of which the objective
continuum is apprehended. The subjective factors, therefore, are
to be identified with both structure and function ; the structure and
function of a "psyche."
We must not forget, of course, that in bifurcating reality
Smith pretends to put mere "awareness" on the subjective side.
His whole argument, indeed, bears witness to the danger involved
in such a pretenre. Awareness clearly indicates "activity," some-
THJEORY OF THE 8ENSA 189
thing equivalent to the so-called "pure act" of thought, and
"activity" at the present time is a word with which to conjure. It
is simply meaningless to postulate a pure activity, what might be
termed the activity of nothing. The fact of the matter is we are
faced with two alternatives. The term implies either (a) a develop
ing objective or (b) an active psyche. We simply cannot leave the
act of awareness suspended, as it were, in mid-air.
It would appear, then, that in his separation of the form from
ihe matter of experience, Smith has been led to confuse two utterly
inconsistent views of the self. (1) The self that we know in know
ing that we know (2) the psyche. For Smith, the self that we know
in knowing that we know, is a self with states a subject of attri
butes. We are not concerned to dispute whether such an entity doeg
>exist or not, but we most certainly do maintain that the term self
is most inappropriately applied to it. Neither can any such entity
be spiritualised by predicating "consciousness" of it, for conscious
ness can be predicated of nothing, for it is an attribute of nothing,
least of all of a mere organised body. The real difficulty about
Smith s "self," as with any other "subject of attributes," is that it
cannot possibly know anything, least of all itself. Smith seems to
realise this, for he tells us that "the powers and dispositions which
constitute the self. . . .cannot ever appear within the conscious
field in themselves." Prol. p. 168.) In the light of the above,
how Smith himself ever came to know himself, and in the light of
that knowledge, to expound his theory, we must leave to the super-
ingenious to discover.
Finally, if the objection is raised that the affective aspect of
experience, especially the feelings of pleasure and pain, cannot be
legitimately regarded as objective, that they are entirley inexplicable
apart from the psyche, we cannot do better than to reply in the
words of Holt.
"If being experienced by different persons makes affections some
how different, everyone s experience is totally and utterly unique and
we find that all communication is impossible. The fact is that the
uniqueness of . . . affections in the individual soul is an appendage
of the soul-substance theory . . . Pains and pleasures are as com
mon to us as are leagues and fathoms, day and night ... Of course
all this is mere metaphor and simile to those psychologists who have
fixed their gaze on the primitive wits of what they are pleased to sup
pose was "savage" man. For many such persons anything beyond a
string and a stick is the giddiest hyperbole. But let them adjust their
goggles to the situations described by Meredith and Henry James, and
then try to work them out in terms of the pure subjectivity of pleasure
and pain. They will be forced to the most absurd sophistries and
evasions. Pleasure and pain . . . both in theory and practice, are
as amenable to communication and logical handling as are the concepts
.of acceleration and TT." (The Concept of Consciousness, pp. 109-11.)
190
MOTION STUDY AND PSYCHOLOGY.
By Eric Farmer, M.A. (Investigator to the Industrial
Fatigue Eesearch Board, London).
MANY experiments in Motion Study have been carried out in
England since an investigation into the subject was first undertaken
by the Industrial Fatigue Research Board in 1919, and we have
sufficient material at our disposal to make possible a critical examin
ation of the principles involved. Moreover it is advisable to do so,
since we must make certain that the work being done in this direc
tion is actually based on sound psychological and physiological prin
ciples, and so avoid committing some of the errors of the early
American pioneers.
The terms 1 "time study" introduced by Taylor, and "motion
study" introduced by Gilbreth indicate an external point of view in
regard to the worker s movements in industrial occupations, and
much of the criticism that can be justly brought against their work
is due to the attitude which they consciously, or unconsciously,
adopted. The terms are fixed now and there is little point in trying
to change them, but a more accurate description of the later work
that has been done, would be the study of the psycho-physical as
pect of the movements involved in industrial operations. The
centre of gravity has, as it were, been shifted from the external to
the internal, and the work has been guided by a genuine desire to
relieve fatigue and not merely to increase output. The fact that
in all cases, where it has been measurable, the result of motion study
applied in this way has been to increase output, must not be taken
as a proof that this was the sole object in view, but only that fatigue
having been relieved the increased energy at the worker s disposal
resulted in increased output. When the result in output is not ac
curately measurable, the general approval of the workers who adopt
the new method is our only criterion, and if this is not spontaneously
forthcoming we are not in a position to assume that we have relieved
fatigue. It is most important that a change in the method of per
forming an operation should be unaccompanied by any other change
such as a new method of payment, or other methods of stimulation.
It is also important that no effort should be made to get the workers
adopting the new method to increase their effort, or speed. If we
are to be sure that a change of method has reduced fatigue, we must
make that change alone and watch any results that may follow, and
if this technique is strictly adhered to we have a method of judging
the effect on fatigue of the change we have made.
Having briefly outlined the point of view that should be
adopted by the psychologist in regard to motion study, and the
MOTION STUDY AND PSYCHOLOGY 191
methods to be applied, we may now go on to examine some of the
psychological principles involved in the study.
Rhythm is undoubtedly the most important factor to be con
sidered in obtaining an easy and non-fatiguing way of performing
industrial operations. The part that rhythm plays in making for
proficiency in many forms of sport is too well known to need any
elaboration, so that we may confine our attention solely to the part
it plays in industry. The body is subject to the respiratory and
circulatory rhythms, and Muscio* has shown that there is also a
diurnal fatigue rhythm even on days when no work whatever is
performed. It is also possible that there may be an emotional
rhythm. Experiments are now being carried out with a view to de
termining this, and although no conclusions have yet been arrived
at, the possibility of such a rhythm should not be excluded. Any
industrial rhythm that is to have a low fatigue value must har
monise with the rhythms already present in the body. To some ex
tent this requirement is fulfilled by leaving the worker to adopt his
own method and to fix upon a rhythm that he finds easy to work to,
but this is not always satisfactory, for as in sport so in industry,
it is found that those who are definitely trained in rhythmic methods
develop a much easier way of doing their work than those who are
left to discover such a method for themselves.
In dealing with industrial rhythm we have to consider at
least three sets of movements, (1) the set directly necessitated
by the work itself, (2) the set necessitated by the arrangement of
material, and (3) a superimposed set of movements which I have
ventured to call a "compensatory rhythm." f The industrial psycho
logist is primarily concerned with effecting improvements 1 in the
first set of movements, and this I have called "intensive motion
study, since it is concerned with the minute movements necessi
tated by the work and can only be effected by getting the workers
consciously to adopt a new method. He is, however, also concerned
with the second set of movements, and his ingenuity will be taxed
to the utmost in endeavouring to arrange material, etc., in such a
way as to make the least possible demand upon the worker. Very
fruitful results, however, have been obtained by this method alone.
It is very doubtful if, with our present knowledge of the subject, we
are entitled to interfere with the third set of movements which seem
to be superimposed upon the others and to have no connection with
the work or arrangement of materials. These movements differ
greatly in their type and extent with individual workers, and pre-
*Brit. Jour, of Psychol., 1920.
t Industrial Fatigue Research Board Report, No. 14.
192 MOTION STUDY AND PSYCHOLOGY
sumably are connected with each worker s individual rhythm. I have
called this set of movements a compensatory rhythm because I
believe it to be unconsciously superimposed upon the other rhythms
in order to give a pleasant affective tone to the rhythms necessitated
by the occupation. This suggestion is further borne out from cyclo-
graphic records of workers movements., in which it can be seen to be
less marked in workers adopting an improved method suggested as
the result of motion study, than in workers employing methods
learned by chance; but even with workers who are employing the
improved methods, it is always present though in a less degree. It
is for this reason that I feel the greatest diffidence in attempting to
alter it, since it is probably intimately connected with the worker s
individual rhythm and corresponds to what in sport is called differ
ence of style. I believe that leaving this rhythm unaltered is one
of the main reasons why workers are so willing to adopt the methods
suggested as a result of motion study. They feel not only that they
are employing a better method, but also that they are allowed a
large range for the individual interpretation of the method.
A few examples from experiments in motion study may help
us to understand better how rhythm affects different industrial pro
cesses. A new method of sweet-dipping* was instituted in which
a curved movement was substituted for the sharp angular move
ment that was customary. The whole movement only took about
two seconds to perform and in the old method the direction in
which the hand was travelling was changed three times, necessitat
ing very rapid contractions of the muscles. In the new method the
process was done by one curved movement and the momentum
gained in the initial part of the movement was utilised at the point
where resistance to the arm s activity was greatest, so that this
momentum was an essential part of the new method, whereas pre
viously it had been checked by a change of direction on the part of
the operative s hand.
In coal-gettingt the rhythm of the stroke was altered to one
which from a lengthy observation of many miners appeared to be the
most satisfactory. This new rhythm was taught to the miners at the
coal face by means of a metronome, and they greatly approved of it.
The process of metal polishing was examined by means of a
Wattmeter and it was found that the fewer times the article was
placed against the revolving wheel, the lighter the pressure with
which it was held there, and the shorter the time it was held there
the higher the output was. If these results were carried to their
tJournal of the National Institute of Industrial Psychology, Vol. I. No. 4.
{Industrial Fatigue Research Board Report, No. 15.
MOTION STUDY AND PSYCHOLOGY 193
extreme limits it would mean that the greatest output would be
obtained when the article to be polished never came against the
wheel at all which is obviously absurd. The truth appears to be,
that so long as the rhythm of the worker is 1 intact there is har
monious co-operation between pressure, duration and number of
movements ; but that as soon as the rhythm breaks down, voluntary
effort takes its place and the pressure, duration and number of
strokes are increased, having as a natural consequence increased
fatigue, resulting naturally in decreased output. This break-up
of rhythm due to the increase of fatigue was shown quite clearly in
the graphs recorded by the Wattmeter, for during the earlier part
of the day the workers seemed to have little difficulty in maintain
ing their rhythm, whereas in the latter part of the day the break up
of rhythm was most marked. A training scheme was instituted
based upon these experiments and very remarkable results were
obtained, showing that the theoretical conclusions arrived at by
means of the Wattmeter stood the test of practical application.
An example* of "extensive motion study" by which fatigue is
lessened not by the w r orker voluntarily altering his movements, but
by altering the arrangement of the materials, may be taken from the
process of packing sweets into jars and labelling them. It was
found that the workers employed their right hand to do the work
almost to the entire exclusion of their left, except for the purposes
of holding things in place. The arrangement of materials was
altered and the work distributed more equitably between the two
hands and the decrease of fatigue showed itself in a very large in
crease in output.
I have been told that the late Dr. Rivers remarked when he
was being shown a repetition process that what was wrong with
such processes was not that they were too monotonous but that they
were not monotonous enough, and those who would effect improve
ments in certain industrial processes must constantly bear this in
mind if they are to make any real progress. The foolish idealism
involved in the saying that every worker should be taught to ex
press himself in his work, can only be advocated by those who are
entirely ignorant of factory life. There are indeed many occu
pations in which a man can to some extent express himself. Those
processes by their nature necessitate constant attention, and have
sufficient interest in themselves to provide material for the intellec
tual and emotional faculties. Coal-getting, for instance, is full of
interest, for the miner must be constantly watching where and how
he is picking in order to see that he is doing it to the best advantage.
Industrial Fatigue Research Board Report, No. 14.
194 MOTION STUDY AND PSYCHOLOGY
Metal-polishing also has sufficient interest to keep the worker s
attention fixed, but it is very different with many other processes
in industry. To make an ideal of teaching those who are engaged
in such repetition processes as packing, labelling, stamping, tending
well-guarded presses, etc., to express themselves in their work, is
to make an ideal of reducing human beings to the position of auto
mata. If we are to relieve fatigue in such processes it must be by
utilising association-trains, and so making the work as far as
possible semi-automatic. By doing so we shall set the worker free
to engage in fantasy-formation, and so enable him to develop his
own life with as little interference as possible from the repetition
process by which he earns his livelihood.
There is, of course, a possibility of dissociation through too
rich a fantasy life, but it is a fairly remote possibility, and it is better
to run this risk than to bring these essentially uninteresting processes
too much into consciousness. We may say that processes, the alter
native methods of performing which, involve either the possibility
of dissociation, or of unnecessary fatigue and mental irritation,
should not be undertaken at all. This is certainly an arguable
point, but this is not the place in which to enter into such an argu
ment. So long as civilisation demands cheap production, so long
will the lives of thousands of workers be spent in uninteresting
repetition occupations, and until these conditions are altered the
industrial psychologist must apply himself to relieve repetition
workers as much as possible by arranging for the work to become
semi-automatic.
An example of this may be taken from many experiments
that have been made in packing.* The details of these experiments
naturally differ, but the principle involved is in all cases the same.
If the articles which are being packed are arranged in such a way
as to allow the worker s association-trains to run smoothly the work
is much less fatiguing than when the contrary is the case. To ar
range this often involves a considerable amount of work on the part
of the experimenter; for not only must the associations run smoothly
but the hand must find itself at each point of the association-train
in the exact position to manipulate the associated object. A really
satisfactory method must have the result of reducing to a minimum
conscious interference, whether it be voluntary effort, or discrimin
ation between competing objects of attention.
I cannot pretend to have done more in this short article than
to have indicated some of the principles involved in motion study.
*Industrial Fatigue Research Board, No. 14. Journal of the National
Institute of Industrial Psychology, Vol. I, No. 1, No. 2, No. 3.
MOTION STUDY AND PSYCHOLOGY 195
There are others which I have not touched upon mainly because I
have little first-hand information concerning them. Among those
still needing investigation are the effects of minute rest pauses be
tween successive movements. The fringe of this subject is touched
upon in the experiments in coal getting, and metal polishing,
already mentioned, but such data as were obtained in these two ex
periments are by no means sufficient to allow us to formulate a
theory ; it is, however, sufficient to indicate that there is ample mat
erial for future investigation, the result of which should have a far-
reaching effect.
NOTES BY THE WAY.
No. 7.
The New Democracy.
Mr. Arthur Henderson has been advocating in Great Britain the
creation of an Economic Council or Parliament of Industry like that
created in Germany, and whose discussions are reputed to represent
the high water mark of intellect in any democratic assembly. In Italy
the Fascists are again considering a reorganisation of democracy upon
vocational lines. The establishment of vocational corporations was
part of their first programme, and was overlaid either because Musso
lini found himself in too sterri a fight over other problems or because
he had no real desire to have any democratic organisations with power.
Whatever has happened in Italy the vocational organisations are being
discussed again. There is something like a common political mentality
in Europe because almost all nations are faced by the same problems.
Democracy was steadily becoming dominant in Europe before the war.
After the war there was a reaction. When swift decisions had to be
made it was found democracy was impossible, and all the nations en
gaged in the war became military autocracies. Democracy on the old
lines had been found to be inefficient. Mussolini cheered by crowds
could talk about the decaying corpse of liberty in Europe. But the
report of itsi death was greatly exaggerated. People began to find out
that autocracies and bureaucracies are not always efficient, and they
could be just as unbearable as an ill-regulated and badly-organised
democracy. Besides the present generation was bred on democratic
ideals, arid it is impossible to exclude them. So the political imagin
ation is being exercised in trying to find some political organisation
of democracy which would be efficient and would exclude the mere
demagogue. The Germans solved the problem by allowing the volun
tary vocational organisations, agricultural, textile, engineering, dis
tributive, etc., to nominate their own representatives on the Economic
Council. Here they judged as experts, and were justified by the
wisdom and sanity and expert character of the discussions in the Ger
man Parliament of Industry. Both in France and England proposals
have been made by prominent politician s to follow the example of the
Germans. The Italians are returning to consider again their vocational
corporations. As efficiency becomes more and more necessary it is, we
believe, inevitable that some reorganisation of democracy on vocational
liries will take place in Europe as the result of the ferment set up by
the ideas of guildsmen, syndicalists, Fascists, and other groups.
^E in the Irish Statesman.
196
THE PSYCHOLOGICAL EXAMINATION OF
IMMIGRANTS.*
By A. H. Martin, M.A., Ph.D., Lecturer in Psychology,
University of Sydney.
I. Introduction. II. Factors of Kacial Selection. III.
Selection by means of Psychological Traits. IV. Cultural
Factors. V. Summary of Desirable Methods.
THE present sparsely populated condition of this continent is
generally recognised both here and abroad, and public opinion has
slowly been stimulated so that attention is being directed upon it as
a field for immigrants. Before this stream should inundate us be
yond possibility of absorption, it is well to pause and consider the
desirability or undesirability of an indiscriminate influx such as has
hitherto occurred in certain other countries.
Up to the present, intending immigrants have been selected
only upon a psysiological basis, the physically unfit being eliminated
by a simple medical examination. While this physical basis of
selection is desirable, it is not the only factor to be considered in
reference to immigration; the mental qualities of citizenship are
quite as important as the physical. Lacking a certain degree of
intelligence an individual is unable to maintain himself or his off
spring; on account of a high degree of suggestibility, he frequently
becomes susceptible to criminal temptations. Emotional stability
and self control are factors as important as intelligence, since they
enable him to regulate his native dispositions 1 and curb the tenden
cies of impulse. Without the possession of such intelligence and
emotional stability, the chances are against such a one proving a
useful and desirable citizen. To-day no selective methods are
adopted to secure the rejection of unfit types, but measures are afoot
in most States to segregate these within our present community. It
is very certain that if due care be not exercised in the selection of
immigrants, additional burdens will be thrust upon our own com
munity together with an augmentation of social evils. It is not
possible here to pursue this aspect any further than to indicate the
present need for selection of immigrants by mental as well as by
physical qualities. It is rather the purpose of this paper to present
basic principles for such methods of selection and to consider their
relative values.
The problem is similar to that of estimating the basis and
conservation of desirable national characters or traits, since the ad-
*Read at the Third Annual General Meeting of the Australasian Association
of Psychology and Philosophy, held at Sydney, May 21-23, 1925.
EXAMINATION OF IMMIGRANTS 197
ditional of new units of population should aim at securing, or if
possible, raising the present level of national standards and ideals.
Hence, our mode of estimating desirable or undesirable characters
by reference to our own national standards will serve as a guide.
Those principles which present themselves as relevant to our pro
blem are three in number, and consist of: (1) Conservation or
selection of types possessing racial qualities inherent in the stock
whence these different nationalities are believed to be derived. (2)
The effect of selective factors by the elimination of certain types of
individuals lacking, and the preservation of others possessing, cer
tain desirable characters. (3) Cultural effects derived from the
education of the individual in the traditions, customs and social
and political institutions peculiar to such nationality.
II.
The theory of racial types which are alleged to bear and con
serve by inheritance certain distinctive characters has of late con
siderably occupied the minds of anthropologists and geographers 1 .
The white race is, in general, divided into three typical races, the
Nordics, Alpines, and Mediterraneans, and certain determinate
physical traits have been ascribed to these types whereby they may
be differentiated. Certain typical mental traits have been added by
psychologists to the physical characters, but their delineation is
dependent on the subjective observation and judgment of the indi
vidual writers. When one attempts to apply these basic divisions
of race to nationality, one encounters the admission that no national
ity is racially pure, but presents instead an inextricable blend of two
or more basic stocks. As a result it is to be expected that nationali
ties will tend to exhibit, not pure racial traits, but rather hybrid
variations of such Mendelian characters. There are two objections
therefore in reference to selection by alleged racial characters.
1. In the first place, assuming the presence of two ancestral
stocks among a people, their various physical and mental characters
will operate as Mendelian units. This must necessarily be the case
if they tend to persist as hereditary traits. Hence there will be a
constant tendency by interbreeding for these traits to be combined
in varying relationships and degrees. The possession by an indi
vidual of physical traits of one race will not necessarily imply the
possession of any mental characters of the same stock, and vice versa.
We may have a specimen racially true to stock on either the physical
or the mental side, but differing on the other. Again many will
possess such an admixture of characters as shall make them a hybrid
blend of both, while again there may be a few racially perfect or
almost perfect specimens on both the physical and mental sides Such
a blending of these various traits would thus render it totally im-
198 THE PSYCHOLOGICAL EXAMINATION
possible to depend on the principle of racial factors as a basis of
selection.
2. In the second case let us first assume that there are definite
racial characters, and then, according to estimated proportions of
racial stock present in a nation, it may be found possible to estimate
these qualities in the group. We may take as examples of such in
stances the high degree of "emotional abandon" ascribed to the
Mediterranean type, the "submissiveness" attributed to the Alpine,
and the "dominating spirit" of the Nordics. When, however, we
come down to consider individuals, we observe that these so-called
differentiating traits of race are not due to presence or absence of
the various basic unit characters, but are rather differences of de
gree. The qualities of "emotionality," "submissiveness," and "self
assertiveness," are traits common to all human beings ancient or
modern, savage or civilised, white or black. Differentia then, are
largely matters of the group, and for these collective estimates or
measurements must be relied upon. Much however, remains to be
accomplished before final pronouncement can be made on the pos
session of racial qualities, since very little progress has so far been
achieved in this direction on the psychological side. Further these
estimates are only valid for nationalities as a whole.
We may pursue the problem still further and consider this
factor of degree in the case where an exact estimate of the different
racial qualities of intelligence has been attempted. Thus Brigham*
analysed the results of the American Army tests, grouping the data
in relation to the nationality of the various immigrants examined.
By weighting the various nationalities according to a subjective esti
mate of the amount of racial stock present, he arrived at certain re
sults with reference to the general intelligence of the three basic
European racial stocks. Besides possible errors in weighting, and
the assumption that proportionate degrees of presence of racial
stock indicate varying degrees of any trait, he also assumes that
such immigrants are a "fair sampling" of their various nationalities,
an assumption possibly as gratuitous as that the present Chinese
population of Australia exhibit representative traits of the Chinese
population as a whole. But quite apart from the grave possibilities
of error in his results, when we proceed to analyse the data, we find
that though his racial curves are not indeed identical, they overlap
to such an extent, that the greater proportion of the one race in
cludes most of the members of the others, and that, so far as racial
intelligence goes, it is a matter of differentiation at either end of
the curve, while the greater bulk of individuals show an identical re
lationship. (Cf. diagram). If we endeavour to retain types at the
Brigham, Carl C. A study of American Intelligence.
OF IMMIGRANTS 199
higher end and exclude all below a certain level, then we have
achieved the utmost that is possible in the matter of selection on the
principle of such distributions, and this entirely without reference
to factors of racial traits.
\
/ / \
\\
MEDITERRANEAN
Distributions of Intelligence Scores of the Nordic, Mediterranean, and Alpine
groups, according to the results of the American Army tests, showing the con
siderable overlap of the Nordic with the others. (Brigham.Carl C. op. cit. p. 170.)
Nationality may not be maintained therefore, by differentiating
pure or even comparatively pure racial types, since nationalities are
too "mixed" in nature for such a principle to be depended on, nor
are such traits confined distinctly to any one race. National traits
appear to depend on selection which provides for preservation of
right individuals and the culling of undesirables, just as in the case
of preservation of breeds of domestic animals. Individual selection
of efficient individuals would therefore appear to be a more reliable
method than one based merely on racial traits or on nationality
alone, and this principle is confirmed by the arguments that may be
further advanced on its behalf.
III.
In considering the factors of selection of desirable individual
types and their contribution towards national traits, reference must
be made to historical examples. While such methods are inexact
and based merely on opinion, yet a general agreement of authorities
as to the cause of the rise or fall of nations may presumably be
accepted as conclusive.
As a first example may be considered the rise and decline of the
Roman Empire. Many other causes have been assigned, but un
doubtedly one great and basic factor was the wastage of good orig
inal Roman stock of the patrician and ruling class. There were two
main reasons for this; one was the dispersal of individuals to vari
ous distant parts of the Empire where they may have fallen in war
or they and their progeny settled down as colonists; the second was
200 THE PSYCHOLO GICAL EXAMINA TION
the disinclination of the later patrician classes towards large fam
ilies or even to any families at all, owing to the general tendency to
wards laziness, luxury and their inevitable accompaniment of licen
tiousness. Through the prevailing effects of caste distinctions, this
wastage of the governing class, always a limited group, was not
supplemented by the inclusion of superior types drawn from the
peasant and bourgeois class, which might in some measure have
supplemented the loss.
Britain, on the other hand, from the earliest dawn of history,,
shows a constant replacement of and commingling with the native
stock by the best of colonising or immigrant types. The original
Mediterranean or Celtic stock benefited slightly from the accession
of good Roman and Foreign legionaries, as well as to a more limited
extent, of Roman patrician stock. The invasions of the English and
Northmen, and later of the mixed Norman type, added very much to
the first endowment. It is not too much to assume that it was
generally the selected individuals who left their Northern homes
and became invaders, while serfs or thralls who were inferior men
tally as well as socially, were left at home. These invaders of Bri
tain would, as individuals, tend to possess the mental characteristics
of enterprise, courage, tenacity of purpose, and above all, a superior
measure of intelligence that would make for prudence and fore
sight in times of difficulty and danger. Probably the self assertive
factor essential to a ruling class was also an accompanying trait.
In the later Reformation period religious persecutions in the Nether
lands and France, led to further accessions of desirable types. Non
conformity to group beliefs always requires a rugged native
independence, coupled with a high order of intelligence which will
produce arguments that may be used to refute such beliefs, and
minister to the individual s own satisfaction, by evolving a con
structive system in place of the rejected one. This further acces
sion of selected individuals not only added a sound heritage, but un
doubtedly assisted in both industrial and cultural development in
England. It will be noted that all these racial accessions were not
pure in type but decidedly mixed; on the other hand the selection
was one of individuals.
Now let us examine an opposite case that of the retrogression
of Spain. Three selective factors were at work to reduce her from a
first-class Renaissance power to her second-class status of to-day.
The first was the loss of her best types who emigrated to the New
World or who were killed in the Religious Wars of the period. The
second set of factors were persecutions of individuals by the In
quisition, resulting in irreparable loss of one type of intellectuals,
while on the other hand many intellectuals of the "conforming type"
OF IMMIGRANTS 201
were attracted to the status of church officials with the inevitable
imposition of a celibate state. Finally the extermination or expul
sion of the Moors, a stock which had proved itself of high intellec
tuality and culture, added still further to the loss 1 . The resultant
waste of such germ plasm has inevitably contributed to Spanish
decline.
The era of selection by social stress has passed with the removal
of pioneer conditions of settlement, and the establishment of comfort
and safety in travel to a hitherto unknown degree. The cost of
migration to-day is comparatively slight and the method not in
surmountably difficult, while the "newer" countries offer as "distant
prospects" far more inducements for the mediocre and sub-normal
than the "older" countries of Europe. The result is to be seen in
the constantly increasing stream of migrants which has been flowing
during the past thirty years from Europe to the less closely settled
countries of the world. Such is the experience of U.S.A., and the
results as shown in the case of that country are not based upon mere
surmise, but are a matter of scientific certainty. The results of the
U.S. army mental tests administered to over one and three-quarter
millions of men have supplied data, the results of which have de
stroyed all confidence in the old melting-pot theory, and shaken the
belief in the ability of that country adequately to absorb this huge
polyglot mass.
The report of the U.S.A. Immigration committee contains the
following data : Out of America s foreign born population of
13,920,692 persons, almost half/ 6,347,835 are returned as "in
ferior" and worse, according to the results of the army mental tests ;
a very small percentage attain an "average" score, and a still smaller
percentage attain to a "superior" or "very superior" rating. More
exact results are shown in the following table :
TABLE I.
TYPE NUMBER PER CENT.
Very Superior
Superior
High Average
High Average
Low Average
Inferior
Very Inferior
153,128
403,700
1,016,211
3,702,904
2,296,914
4.287,573
1.1
2.9
7.3
26.6
16.5
30.8
2,060,262 . . 14.8
From the succeeding Table (II.) it is easy to deduce from
what nationalities the bulk of these superior and inferior types are
mostly derived. In the early days of U.S. immigration it was the
better types who ventured forth, mainly as settlers and pioneers 1 .
In the present century the better types have been swamped by the
vast hordes of mentally inferior individuals that have crowded into
the country under the easy conditions of modern migration, and the
inducement of comparatively high wages.
202
THE PSYCHOLOGICAL EXAMINATION
TABLE II.*
Per cent, of Per cent, of
Superior Inferior
Types A & B Types D, D, &
in Army E in Army
Tests Tests
19.7
13.0
10.7
8.3
12.1
5.4
10.5
4.3
4.1
0.8
4.1
3.4
3.4
2.1
2.7
0.8
.5
8.7
13.6
9.2
15.0
24.1
13.4
19.5
19.4
25.6
24.0
39.4
37.5
42.0
43.6
60.4
63.4
69.9
Average
Numbers admitted durins
Mental
Age in
Country
Immigration Periods
between
Army
of
1820
1871
1911
Tests
Origin
to
to
to
1830
1880
1920
14.9
England
22.167
460.479
249,944
14.3
Scotland
2,912
87,564
78.601
14.3
Holland
1,078
16,541
43,718
13.9
Germany
6,761
718,182
143.945
13.8
U.S. White
13.7
Denmark
169
31,771
41,983
13.7
Canada
13.3
13.0
Sweden ")
Norway >
91
211,245
95.074
12.8
Belgium
(see Ho
Hand)
12.3
Ireland
50.724
436,871
145.937
12.3
Austria
72,969
896.342
12.0
Turkey
,
77,098
11.9
Greece
184.201
11.3
Russia
91
52,254
921,957
11.3
Italy
408
55,759
1.109.524
10.7
Poland
(See Russia)
The country of origin is shown in the centre of the table while
the general results of the U.S. Army Mental Tests are shown on
the left. These portray a general decline in the intelligence of the
majority of immigrants as the nationalities are read from the top
of the column to the bottom. On the right are shown the record for
three typical immigration decades for the period of one hundred
years (1820-1920). While there is a gradual increase in immi
grants from nearly all nationalities, the increase is alarmingly large
in nationalities situated towards the lower end of the list where
intelligence is lowest. Had the war not abruptly checked the
stream, the results of the 1911-1920 decade must have been over
whelming. Since the war the application of the "quota" system to
migrants has limited the flow by permitting only a proportionate
number of emigrants from each foreign country. When however, it
was observed that this provision still allowed of a greater proportion
from countries whose migrants showed a low average mentality, the
quota proportion for each country was further revised by Congress
and hased on an earlier census, which allows a predominance to
north-western European peoples. Thus has America attempted,
somewhat late in the day, to substitute a form of racial or national
selection in place of the factor of "social stress/ Though some
thing has been done in a limited way to apply mental tests to indi
viduals who are obviously deficient, no general attempt at psycho
logical selection of immigrants has been made there; yet after the
experience of American Army psychologists with non-English
speaking recruits and illiterates the task would prove a fairly easy
one.
Brigham Carl C. op. cit. pp. 124, 160, 161.
OF IMMIGRANTS 203
IV.
Within fair limits of his range of intelligence, civilised man
is able to adjust himself with ease to almost every climatic con
dition. By means of organisation and submission to efficient leader
ship he has established systems of social and political institutions
and customs which vary with nationality. It is not too much to say
that the average individual transported soon after birth from one
set of these climatic social and economic conditions to another, will
readily adjust himself to the new environment. With the adult who
has been moulded by his own social environment and has become
fixed in these conditions a transition is a difficult matter. The ad
justment to new social conditions is a matter of conflict which is
only solved with great difficulty, or else not at all. Even if the
individual himself be educable in this respect it is not so with the
social group. The one great influence in the latter case is tradition
which not only affects its present forms but influences its future
evolution. A few examples of its unifying effect will illustrate its
influence in spite of factors which, taken singly, would probably
prove disruptive. Despite diverse influences of race, religion and
economic interests, the British Empire is still one. Switzerland
and South Africa maintain their national integrity despite im
portant language differences. Schleswig-Holstem and Alsace-
Lorraine, formerly subjected to German political rule for consider
able periods, yet maintained an alternate loyalty to their former
"traditional" nationalities ; while Servia, despite partition and long
endured Turkish tyranny, has yet at length attained nationhood. It
is clearly obvious that the transplantation of large bodies of migrants
to another land would tend to the perpetuation of their original
national traditions in place of those of their adopted country. His
torical evidence shows that this has been the case in times past, and
is actually the case at present. No matter what the ultimate effect
of groups may be, either absorption of invaders or modification of
the original customs of a country by new influences, the transition
period is unsettling and destructive to the status quo.
The U.S.A. is again a case in point. The population to-day
already contains a slight majority of foreign born over native popu
lation. New immigrants are absorbed by colonies of their own
nationality, which educate the growing youth in the traditions of
the land of their ancestry and develop their own native language.
As a result, seventy foreign newspapers are published in New York
City, and one may traverse certain districts of that city without the
certainty of making oneself intelligible by means of the English (or
even the American) language alone. The conditions of law and
order such as one finds in a more homogeneously settled social com-
204: THE PSYCH OLO GICAL EXAMINA TION
nrnnity are undermined; thus Chicago for example, with its bare
four millions of population has annually more cases of murder than
the whole of England. Such a state of affairs is less due to police
corruption than the inevitable loosening of morality and control
due to the dissolution of the traditional authority. If we take as
an example the young Italian of the "East Side" of New York, we
find that when parental authority is asserted at home or the pat
riarchal authority of his church is involved, he will probably refute
it with the democracy acquired in the American common school and
the streets. In this clash of traditions between family, church, and
state, all moral authority tends to be set at naught, and thus is the
criminal developed. The economic situation is also involved ; to-day
the farms of New England, first won from the wilderness and tilled
by the Pilgrim Fathers and their successors, are largely in the hands
of people foreign born or else of non-British descent. Politically,
such foreign speaking colonies may be influenced by means of their
leaders who, without any national pride in the country of their adop
tion, are often ready to accept bribes for the use of their influence
upon the votes of their group. Such a system has undoubtedly per
meated American politics to a far greater extent than in other coun
tries, earning for itself the expressive term of "graft." Inter
nationally such a proportion of foreign born may completely alter
the original trend of policy away from the traditional direction,
and in opposition to the general inclination of the original native
inhabitants. Such anti-British expressions, for instance, as seen in
the "yellow" journals of the U.S.A. are supported, not by the orig
inal native born population who are in the main well disposed to the
British people, but by foreign-descended and foreign-born indi
viduals.
It may fairly be claimed that an influx of foreign migrants used
to specific institutions of their own, is destructive of established
institutions, and induces changes which are sudden and subversive
of established order rather than those which are evolutionary and
gradual in character. In the interests of the maintenance of our Aus
tralian national traditions therefore, the admission of considerable
groups of immigrants should be restricted so that no large colony of
foreign extraction should be possible. Since individual choice of local
ity of residence and non-seditious associations of individuals may
not legally be interfered with, a limitation of entrance conditions is
strictly essential. Young immigrants also, rather than individuals
whose traditions have been fixed by an upbringing under foreign
nationalities are more desirable as immigrants on account of their
greater educability.
OF IMMIGRANTS 205
There are, however, other results which are also due to sudden
transmutations of social environment. Individuals of such types
of mentality as would probably have discharged their social func-
iions if not creditably, at least passably, within the environment in
which they have grown up, find themselves when suddenly uprooted,
entirely at a loss in a new social environment. The result is that,
overwhelmed either by stress of circumstances or unable to acquire
afresh the new order of things, they come to stand in need of treat
ment as insane or mentally deficient patients in mental hospitals.
The State will thus have thrust upon it the responsibility of their
care and maintenance as well as having to put up in addition with
their potential and actual criminality. We may turn to statistics
of mental hospitals in corroboration of this; in New York State,
U.S.A., a return of the insane in mental hospitals on 1st January,
1923, showed that 46 per cent, were foreign-born, while 22 per cent,
were native born of foreign parentage, crediting a total of 68 per
cent, of cases of insanity to the immigrant.
Nor may conditions in our own State escape without comment
in this regard, as the following table (III.) discloses 1 . While the
figures for insane British population are only 3.8 per thousand,
those for the foreign-born population show the high figure of 29
per thousand.
TABLE III.
Number of Persons
in care of Rate of Insane
Country of Origin Population I. G. Mental per 1000 head
inN.S.W. Hospital, N.S.W. ofpopu-
(1922). (1922 Report) lation
^Great Britain and Colonies . . 2,081,000 . . 9.122 . . 3.8
Foreign 18,387 . . 540 . . 29
Total 2,099,387 . . 9,622
Such facts touch us vitally and warn us that the problem of
foreign migrants is one that may be expected to become a future
menace. The methods of measuring intelligence have been per
fected with fair accuracy; in regard to the detection of emotional
instability progress also has been made. The "Kent-Rosanoff Free
Association tests" and the "Woodworth Personal Inventory" have
.already established their value in this respect for English speaking
types, but their application to non-English speaking individuals has
never been attempted. Psychiatrists skilled in diagnosis, might,
however, be able to do something to detect cases showing a lack of
emotional stability.
Since, however, forms of mental instability may not manifest
themselves until some time after admission, when symptoms have
become accentuated by the progress of the disease or the patient s
modicum of self control has been swept away through failure to
206 EXAMINATION OF IMMIGRANTS
adjust himself to new circumstances, it is desirable that absolute
and unconditional right of entry be not accorded to any immigrant
until after a period of five years of residence in this country. If
during his probationary period, symptoms of mental disease should
mainfest themselves, then the patient should be returned to his nat
ive land and the burden of his maintenance lifted from this country.
In order to effect this end specific legislation is essential.*
V.
As shown above, the older conditions of social elimination of
"unfit" migrants have lapsed, owing to the difficulties of travel and
pioneer settlement having been removed by modern conditions. The
"failure" in his native country generally finds it no difficult matter
to migrate, and is often actually assisted thereto. Since by means-
of the quota system the United States has already damned the tide
of migration to her shores, the present outflow is bound to seek other
outlets. Two great areas remain, viz., South America and Australia.
As an earnest of this it is only necessary to call attention to the num
ber of foreign immigrants that invaded this country in 1924. If
indeed then we wish to possess Australia for our own descendants,
and to hand down to them the traditions and institutions of our
forefathers, it is essential that early action be taken before con
ditions here become similar to those which actually obtain in such
a country as the United States.
We may sum up the requirements necessary to secure this as
follows:
1. The establishment of some form of a proportionate quota
system whereby the influx of foreign immigrants is limited
to numbers which may be readily assimilated and a Aus-
tralianised."
2. The administration of simple intelligence tests 1 to all immi
grants either British or foreign, in order to exclude types
that do not reach an adequate mental standard.
3. The examination of British immigrants by means of some
test of emotional stability, and the close scrutiny of all
foreign immigrants by skilled psychiatrists.
4. The passage of legislation allowing the right of deportation
of insane or mentally deficient immigrants who have resided
in this country for a period less than five years.
5. The supplementing of the present staff carrying out a med
ical inspection of immigrants on physiological lines, by
other members skilled in psychological analysis.
*The writer is? given to understand that undesirables who have resided in
Canada for a period of less than five years, may be legally deported from that
country.
207
PSYCHOLOGICAL STUDIES.
II. AVERSION IN "TIMON OF ATHENS."
By Professor L. H. Allen, M.A., Ph.D. Royal Military
College, Canberra.
No poetry, not even dramatic poetry, is entirely objective; and
though Shakespeare seems to have takeri considerable pains to conceal
the deeply person al processes of his mind, he has not removed the
temptation which lures us on to find them out. It is not the case of
some monstrous intellect outside our species, a Gulliver inviting
Lilliputian curiosity. It is rather that this man lias got such a hold of
us, has so incorporated our minds with his own, that we almost feel
we have a right to know. None the less, we can do him and ourselves
rio greater injustice than the composition of partial and subjective
portraits such as those of Frank Harris and Clemence Dane.
I attempt no more than adumbration. The dramas, particularly
the tragedies, do not justify us in concocting stories of broken love-
affairs and harrowed hearts; but they do justify us in assuming that
they represent some phase of his experience. Shakespeare did not, I
conceive, say to himself something as follows "That confounded Bur-
bage is absolutely dunning me for a play within the month. Some
thing must be done. Now, here s a little bit of Bandello that would
go quite nicely if polished." Shakespeare wrote plays for a living. So
does Bernard Shaw. If the fact of being a mercenary does not prevent
Shaw from speaking his mind on thirigs, why should it have prevented
Shakespeare? That the latter is more veiled about the matter is due
merely to a difference of nature.
It does seem definite that Shakespeare suffered the deepest pain
of mind on the subject of the world s ingratitude. We cannot say how
far he took this as a personal matter. It may be that he had spent his
best and felt that the world had given him little thanks iri return. It
is equally possible that he grieved over what he saw all around him.
Like Shelley, he may very well have been
a nerve o er which do creep
The else unfelt oppressions of the earth.
It is a fairly general and fallacious maxim that to feel things you
must experience them personally. If that were true it would follow
that you could feel nothing but what you experienced personally. Is
Christianity, then, a grand mistake? And are we nothing but a swarm
of isolated ego-points? The mind of Shakespeare exists, it seems to
me, to show that by observation and sympathy you can make the life
of all men one within yourself. It is immaterial whether Shakespeare
felt the world s ingratitude as the result of his own, or of others ,
experience. It seems clear enough that he felt it personally, not as a
detached dramatic study. It reaches its final expression in Lear, which
sums the sublime as the En glish mind has conceived it. One asks
why did he abandon Timon and finish Lear?
208 PSYCHOLOGICAL STUDIES
Are the reasons purely literary? Was the plot not rich enough?
He had quite enough invention to adjust that easily. Were the char
acters not various enough? In Much Ado about Nothing he invented
Beatrice and Benedick, who simply are the play. Did its literary style
dissatisfy him? There are bursts of eloquence in Timon which he
seldom bettered. The literary reasons do not suffice. I can think of
no other reason than that Shakespeare tired of Timon.
When Shelley was about to break with Harriet, he worked himself
into a highly neurotic state. He gave a friend ari enigmatic explan
ation of his condition by saying something to the effect that he was
filled with an unconquerable loathing for objects of fear and detesta
tion. The "objects" were, alas, an object, the unfortunate Eliza, who
would interfere with her little sister s matrimonial affairs. That was a
weakriess in Shelley. He stretched his feelings, whether of love or
hate, into hysteria.
This was counterbalanced in Shelley by radiant faith and a re
silient refusal to admit defeat. Timon is a man of Shelley-like nature,
but without his saving graces. He becomes the victim of morbid
aversion.
There is something beautiful in Timori s childlike nature. Much
that Francis Thompson wrote of Shelley might have applied to him.
The world was his toy-box, and he fooled with it charmingly. He has
much to make us love him; and, indeed, he stands for a vital principle
that appeals to every poet the protest of the spirit against the letter.
By absolute laws he is no fool; by absolute laws the child is in the
right. The wrong his friends did him, though it answered a fool ac
cording to his folly, is also the unpardonable sin against the wisdom of
the wise. Timon did not want to "bind with briers the joys and de
sires," and he was perfectly right if only we could live in Eden. He
is the noble victim of "the world s soul"; and in this sense his defeat
is a victory.
Shakespeare knew all this, and he must have written with deep
feelirfg the words of the bedraggled bird of Paradise "unwisely, not
ignobly, have I given." But he knew something more, and more im
portant. Timon is the ignoble victim of himself.
Lucian says of Timon: "Some say his bounty undid him, and his
kindness and commiseration 1 towards all that craved of him; but in
plain terms it was his folly, simplicity and indiscretion in making choice
of his friends." This is the view of a cynic, and Shakespeare, who
could see the beauty in Timon, refused to adopt it completely. But he
agreed with Lucian in making his Nemesis come from within himself.
An anonymous play, written about 1600, gave Shakespeare a hint for
putting a finer edge on the matter. In this play the motive of Timon s
generosity is the applause of men. The Old Play made the loss of
Timon s fortune due to shipwreck; and irf the end he is converted from
misanthropy. Shakespeare saw plainly enough that the loss of fortune
must come from Timon s own acts. As for the conversion from mis
anthropy, that was the whole crux. Let us leave it for the moment.
PSYCHOLOGICAL STUDIES 209
Timon is his own undoer. There can be no tragedy without that.
But lack of discrimination in the choice of friends is not a sufficient
motive. That might be merely the result of an unfortunate environ
ment. Moreover, the "friends" are symbolical. They are "the world s
soul." The inherent flaw must be there if there was stuff for a tragedy.
This flaw, vanity, the love of men s praise, he handles with consum
mate skill. Here, for instance, is a neat touch. The jeweller, anxious
to dispose of his gem at an exorbitant price, says,
believ t, dear lord,
You mend the jewel by the wearing it,
to which Timon replies: "Well mocked!" From a man of the world
these words would be a cynical rebuff. From the child-like Timon
they are a blush at an accepted compliment. Apemantus tells him very
plainly that he loves flattery; and though not all that Apemantus says
was written by Shakespeare, we may reasonably believe that it follows
his creator s intention 1 . We find, too, some echoes of his vanity when
lie turns misanthrope. On finding gold in his cave, he cries
Thus much of this will make black white, foul fair,
Wrong right, base noble, old young, coward valiant.
He might well loathe gold, which has proved to him the bait of deceit;
but that deceit carries with it the unpleasant fact that he is not all he
thought he was. He seems to reflect with some pride that at one time
he had
The mouths, the tongues, the eyes and hearts of metf at duty.
The change in his fortunes showed him that his gold, and not himself,
had been the real attraction; and this explains why he did not wish to
recover his money.
In another point blame may be justly laid on Timon. The "soul of
the world" may be heartless, but it has its own" side of the matter. Is
not Timon just as heartless in ruining his creditors by his extrava
gance? If he so far compounded with the world as to borrow should
he not have acquired enough worldly wisdom to borrow honourably?
Yet one of his creditors says
And my reliances on his fracted dates
Have smit my credit.
Gerierosity can exist only within the bounds of exigencies; and
the truest generosity is that which mean s sacrifice to the giver. Timon s
generosity not only costs him no pang, but makes him a robber of his
fellows.
There are some slight touches of transition in Timon s conversion
to misanthropy; but in the main it is sudden-, arid intentionally so. It
is a morbid aversion, the phobia of a weak mind. Shakespeare must
have seen, as he developed the character, that he had not the stuff
of tragedy in him. His flaw was not tragic. Vanity is merely a foible.
There was nothing for such a nature but a sick recoil from reality;
and that is not tragedy.
210 PSYCHOLOGICAL STUDIES
Why did Shakespeare abandon Timon arid finish Lear? Because
Lear, a tragedy far more terrible, had the capacity of a reconciliation
no less beautiful. But what possibility of reconciliation lay in Timon?
Should Shakespeare have followed the Old Play and re-converted
Timon from misanthropy? It is not merely that this would have
turned the play into a melodrama; from the riecessity of Timon s nat
ure it was impossible. Timon ends in madness, like Lear; but the
madness of one is an apotheosis, that of the other, a disease. Shake
speare did not find disease a subject for tragedy. I do .not think any
thing would have prevailed on him to write "Ghosts."
NOTES BY THE WAY.
No. 8.
The Mission of Philosophy.
The Spectator welcomes the "formation of the British Institute of
Philosophical Studies. It has excellent sponsors in its first principal
officers, Lord Balfour, Professor Hobhouse, the Master of Balliol, and
Sir Ly.nden Macassey, besides a very comprehensive Council represent
ing diverse spheres of thought and action. If materialism in life arid
superficiality in thought are the sins that most easily beset our nation
to-day, the task of the Institute should be of immense importance. Its
purpose is to encourage, even to popularize in some degree, pure
thought, the search for abstract truth and the application of philosophy
to life in all its modern complications of religion , science, politics, and
industry. We trust that the philosophers who are willing to help will
not be daunted by the general ignorance of philosophy among a people
notoriously lacking in theoretic instincts, nor impatient of teaching us,
as it were, iri words of one syllable."
According to the Prospectus issued by the Institute, "reflective
people everywhere are looking for guidance in the maze of thought and
practice in which they find themselves. It would be fitting if the re
quired direction were to come from Philosophy, whose aim is to see
life steadily and see it whole" "Philosophy seeks a view
of Reality with no important feature left out," and while "it may never
completely succeed in its quest, the principle which goverris it of bring-
irig all ideas and beliefs to the bar of reason and consistency, and of
taking account of the whole of experience, will always be of great
service to knowledge." "Philosophy, by enlarging the objects of our
thoughts and actions, is able to make us citizens of a larger world. And
it may be added that it is only by entering into the enjoyment of this
larger citizenship, that man can gain love, freedom, arid liberation from
the thraldom of narrow hopes and fears."
RESEARCHES AND REPORTS.
THE APPLICATION OF INTELLIGENCE TESTS TO PERSONNEL
IN A RETAIL STORE.
By Winifred Taylor, Farmer & Company, Limited, Sydriey.
Introduction: Some parts of the organisation of a modern retail
store necessitate the daily performance of many tasks of a purely
routine nature, which can be efficiently carried on by an untrained
junior staff. Thus, in the central cash desk, juniors are posted at the
tubes, continuously extracting money and bills from the cash carriers
and handing them on to the cashiers. For docket sorters, mail mes
sengers, etc., in office departments, and as packers and messengers in
sales departments, junior labour, rarfging in age from 14 to 16 years,
is in demand. The degree of satisfaction on the part of those in con
trol in the performance of any of these tasks is conditioned as much
by the willingness as by the intelligence of the juniors coricerned.
But what future is offered to these untrained juniors? After
Christmas and Sales Periods, the nucleus of the larger temporary staff
is retained, the most satisfactory juniors being selected, and slowly
absorbed and very gradually promoted to more responsible work. In
the case of most firms, however, unless special methods are adopted,
promotion 1 is conditioned by wage-for-age considerations, the younger,
bright junior having to mark time until the more "expensive" girl is
moved on, generally without reference to actual ability. Such a policy
is not in the best interests of either management or employees.
It is the policy of this Company definitely to train its juniors in
view of future requirements. Classes for sales juniors afford instruc
tion in store arithmetic, store spelling, counter book, store geography
and store service; office training is at present devoted to classes in
shorthand and typewriting, with some attention to English. In order
to atterid these classes members of the junior staff in sales and office
sections are freed for training during a certain number of hours weekly
in periods falling between the "busy" times of the year. It is there
fore essential from an economic standpoint that the management
should be assured that the employee is actually able to benefit by the
training offered. To ensure the best practical results, careful selection
of juniors has to be made not only for intelligence but for other indi
vidual characteristics such as interest and disposition, which may out
weigh this first factor in some lines of employment, this being espec
ially the case in sales departments.
By the application of certain principles of Industrial Psychology
it has been possible to disentangle the various factors, and to measure
or assess them on an exact and scientific basis. Intelligence may be
measured by means of reliable tests; ability and personal interest in
the individual task may be assessed by responsible judges, somewhat
less exactly, by means of rating scales. In the present instance en
deavours have been made to apply such psychological principles to
selecting individuals for advancement on account of their special
212 RESEARCHES AND REPORTS
qualities, and also to provide suitable trainirig for those whom it will
most benefit. It is the purpose of this paper to set out in brief what
has been carried out in these directions by the writer, and the results
achieved.*
Intelligence Testing: The test used was the Otis Group Intelligence
Scale, Advanced Forms A and B. The reason for selecting this test
was that it covers a wide range of ability, it can readily be given
to groups, and correlates with the Stanford Binet Scale. (Jnl.
Educt l Psychol. May and June 1918. See Manual of Directions.) It
has been standardised upon over eleven thousan d unselected subjects.
Again, by means of the alternative forms of the test, coaching of a
second group by members of a first is to a large extent obviated. It
possesses the final advantage of affording comparative age .norms of
mental ability, thus readily permitting the ranking of individual intelli
gences by means of "brightness norms," irrespective of chronological
age, after Terman s method of the I.Q.
Before applying the first group test of intelligence, March, 1923, a
meetirig of all heads of departments was called by the Directors of the
Company, to afford the writer an opportunity of explaining the principle
of tests. The confidence displayed by the management was effective
in ensuring the support of lesser authorities, which was reflected in
the interested attitude of the junior staff who underwent the first group
test
The subjects, in the first group tested, were all girls from sales and
office departments and ranged in ages from 14 to 16 years. The test
was conducted on two mornings following, at 10 a.m. The experi
menter was known persorially by the group, through her association
with the Welfare Department, and she was therefore enabled to make
a pleasant human approach before applying the tests; this method of
introducing the test was adopted throughout with every group of girls
tested. When the boys turn came, later in the year, the precaution
was taken of having the group addressed by a man", namely, the staff
superintendent, who carefully explained the reasons for giving the test,
and who introduced the experimenter as the expert who would conduct
the test. All subjects were informed, before undergoing the test, that
their records were to be treated with confidence, arid they were invited
to call in person and hear their results, two weeks from the date of
testing.
From 1923 up to the present, the Otis Test has actually been admin
istered to 273 girls and 68 boys, either sex ranging in age from 14 to
18 years. The girls included both members of office and sales staff,
the boys only the latter. The results of the tests are shown iri the
following table, the scores being calculated here on the percentile age
basis.
""Acknowledgments are due to Dr. A. H. Martin. Sydney University, for
assistance in the preparation of this paper.
RESEARCHES AND REPORTS 213
OFFICE STAFF.
Average in
Number of cases Percentile Range S.D.
44 46.4 24.5
70 45.3 27.5
GIRLS 30 46.3 27.5
General Average 45.8
SALES STAFF.
Average in
Number of cases Percentile Range S.D.
38 37.1 28.3
55 27.7 22.8
GIRLS 35 35.0 21.4
General Average 33.2
47 36.7 24.3
BOYS 21 34.6 24.9
General Average 35.8
There is of course a considerable overlap in the actual range of
the scores, but it is evident from the above measures, that there is a
constant difference between the average intelligence of the office and the
sales staffs. In the latter case this is corroborated by the results of the
tests furnished by both girls and boys, the results in their cases being
only about 6 per cent, apart. On the other hand the differences
between the girls and boys sales staff and the office staff show for the
latter an excess approximately 38 and 30 per cent, respectively of the
results of the former groups.
These results are corroborated by those obtained by American
investigators. Carrying out psychological tests in Macey s Ltd., gen
eral store in New York City, Bregman* found distinct differences of
intelligence between office and sales staffs in favour of the former.
Elkindf, using the Otis General Intelligence Examination in a general
store in Chicago upon 133 juniors, obtained almost identical results.
He found the office median to be 44.5 percentile, and the sales median
the 30.9 percentile. Orie other finding of importance in which the
writer s experience also corroborates that of Elkind are in regard to
some of those who attained to a very low standard in the test, but who
were useful in their particular capacity as stock girls. Such positions
require not even an average degree of intelligence but a capacity for
industry and application in a simple routine task. Concerning these
cases Elkind writes thus: "Some of those who secured the lowest
marks (below 20) proved to be highly satisfactory in their positions.
*Bregman, E. O., "A study in Industrial Psychological Tests for Special
Abilities," Jnl. of App. Psychol., June. 1921.
fElkind. Henry B.. "Mental Hygiene in Industry." Jnl. of Ind. Hygiene,
July, 1924. pp. 113-122. Boston.
214 RESEARCHES AND REPORTS
Investigation showed that some of these were high-grade morons (by
the Stanford-Binet), but that the work they were doing did not require
an average amount of intelligence. With one exception they were not
clerical workers; the majority were employed as stock girls."
Rating Methods: In order to corroborate test results by means of
some practical standard of ability, judgments were obtain ed from
heads of sales, office and training departments, these affording an
additional means of comparing the values of estimates, since if these
differed widely, objections could hardly be raised against differences
between these and the tests; again, if these showed close agreement
and together differed widely from the test results, then the tests of
intelligence could not be regarded as useful measures in actual practice.
The judges were asked to rate the capacity of the subjects known
to them as follows: 1 Superior; 2 Above Average; 3 Average; 4
Below Average; 5 Poor. Owing to the inexperience of the judges and
the fact that the subjects were drawn from many different departments
it was found impossible to use the usual and more exact ranking
method, whereby exact correlation might be calculated; as a conse
quence, the results can only be stated in general terms, instead of in
actual correlation figures.
Difficulty was experienced by heads of departments iri judging
general ability as apart from other factors, and, again, there was a
disinclination to rate subjects as "poor." Willingness to run messages
and other such performance was sometimes construed as brightness,
while the more difficult and irresponsible, though brighter, junior was
naturally enough dubbed "unsatisfactory." Then many tasks were of
such an elementary nature that there was .no opportunity for exercise
of judgment as to future capabilities. Another frequent cause of dis
parity between the test ranking and departmental ranking was the
emotional factor. Especially is this the case where the test rank
attained was high and the ability of the subject was rarfked low by the
departmental head. The teachers judgments were in closer agreement
with the test, especially in office training sections. It is noteworthy
that every successful shorthand student ranked above average In
intelligence; but for typing there was not such close agreement.
The results for one group are shown in the scatter diagram below,
perfect correlation being indicated when all the figures centre about
the diagonal line A B, these being in heavy type. The closest corres
pondence is shown irt Table 2, for shorthand performance with intelli
gence, as stated above. No. 3 Table comes second, while Table 1
shows the least degree of correspondence of all. It is to be noted that
all these subjects did not take the shorthand test.
Discussion with heads of departments has, however, removed scep
ticism and has resulted in a greater sympathy with personnel character
istics. They have shown, in their later judgments, a far greater de
velopment of psychological in sight, and a finer appreciation of the
future value of the individual child in regard to possibilities of train
ing and promotion.
RESEARCHES AND REPORTS
215
1. Correspondence between test ranking and departmental
ranking Office Juniors.
54321
100
5
3
5- x
80
1
9
9
1
60
1
.,7"
4
1
40
X
5
4
20
6
1
1
No. of Subjects=67.
2. Correspondence between" test ranking and shorthand
teacher s ranking.
1
100
80
60
40
20
5
3
2
9
1
1
9
3
x
3
3
1
No. of Subjects=42.
216
RESEARCHES AND REPORTS
3. Correspondence between test ranking a.nd ranking by
teacher of typewriting.
54321
100
1
3
5
4
80
1
9
8
2
60
1
1
?
2
1
40
1
4
5
3
20
1
5
1
1
Xo. of Subjects=67.
Further Data: As the results show the data of the Intelligence
Tests have afforded a better approach to the understanding of the indi
vidual and of adjusting him in such a way that he is suited as far as
possible to the job in which he is engaged. But in addition much
other information is required and is included under a staff survey. For
each individual this comprises information concerning age, department,
father s occupation, school, departmental transfers, present and future
work, and desires for promotion; this information is obtained from a
questionnaire filled in by each individual before undergoing the test.
Then follows the test result, departmental and training teacher s rarik-
ing, together with departmental opinion and training record, obtained
by the experimenter in person. Recommendations added include sug
gestion s for transfer, where a full investigation has shown that there
is maladjustment. Finally, the interview with individual juniors affords
much additional personal information, especially of the individual s
interests.
Applications: To ensure the best placement of juniors it is essential
that a job analysis be made of various typical positions. On this basis
that individual who appears to come closest to the requirements de
manded may be selected for the particular job.
The results of the intelligence tests is naturally one of the fore
most factors for consideration in grading an individual for either office
RESEARCHES AND REPORTS 217
or sales departments, but next to this must come such personality
factors as appearance, trustworthiness, etc., according to the require
ments of each position . For instance, office work which involves the
handling of cash demands personal integrity as a basic characteristic,
while members of the correspondence staff require a high degree of
intelligence and stenographic ability. In some sales departments per
sonal appearance is a first essential, in others ability to appreciate the
requirements of the customer.
Ariother direction in which the survey information has proved use
ful is that of individual readjustment, wherever this may be necessary.
Obviously the maladjusted individual is an economic waste as well as
being personally unhappy. One of the best results both from the em
ployees and the managerial point of view has been this readjustment
of "misfits." Previously transfers of staff were not favourably looked
upon by heads of departments but now, thanks to ths working of the
"psychological leaven," there is much more conscious recognition both
of the necessity for rating the individual and the rieed of a congenial
atmosphere for him, but again the intelligence factor must be given
first consideration; incidentally it may with confidence be asserted
that it has rarely been found necesasry to dispense with the services
of a junior assistant with a high test record. Where the head of depart
ment reports unfavourably, a transfer now provides the solution of the
problem.
In conclusion, it may be of interest to quote a few special cases
where re-adjustments have been made on the basis of individual attain
ment in the Otis Intelligence Tests. The headirig shows the particular
form which the maladjustment has taken and the description of the
measures taken to remedy the disability follows:
Disposition Factor: Case A. Tested high but was reported sulky and
disobedient by the head of her sales section 1 . She had expressed
a wish for a transfer to the office. This was finally made on the basis
of test results. Six months later the office section head reported as
follows: "A bright, willing assistant, with plenty of initiative."
Home Disturbance: Case B. Tested low and was marked by her de
partment as uninterested. Inquiry revealed home troubles, which were
later adjusted. A further test, twelve months later, ranked her "above
average" and her department has reported that she "has improved
more than any junior in her department."
Appearance Factor: Case C. Tested second highest of 83 juniors.
She was a dull-looking girl and was first engaged for a busy period;
she would probably not have been employed otherwise. A recom
mendation for increase in salary had just been lodged by her head of
department on her behalf, and the test confirmed the statement that
she was an assistant worthy of extra consideration.
Interest Factor: Cases D and E both showed "superior intelligence"
in the test but were regarded as lazy and incompetent in their sales
218 RESEARCHES AND REPORTS
departments. At the time, however, they were engaged on elementary
tasks. Following on the test results they were given a little responsi
bility and much more exacting work; they have since proved to be in
terested and full of initiative.
Social Factor: Case F topped the list of 83 in the test, has a high
school education and was a well-mannered girl. She was engaged
temporarily for cleaning work, at the suggestion of a sister already in
the employ of the Company. After testing, it was recommended that
she be transferred to office work, where she gained swift promotion,
arid she was an exceptionally bright student in the shorthand and
typing classes.
CONCLUSIONS.
1. The results of intelligence tests applied to the junior staffs of a
retail store show that there is a wide difference between the
averages of intelligence of the office and sales staffs in the estab
lishment, that of the office staffs being considerably higher. The
results are almost identical with those obtained by American
workers in the same field.
2. Individual test results may with confidence be utilised along
with other personality factors for the placement of juniors in
various positions. Such placements afford better adjustments
than those afforded by unpsychological and subjective methods.
3. By utilising test results together with personal information
maladjusted individuals may be transferred to other position s,
with profit to themselves and to the firm.
NOTES BY THE WAY.
No. 9.
The Pragmatic Sanction.
"We have learned through the experience of American history that
"action gets results." We have seen that "organised action" gets
even greater results. And a great danger lies irf the fact that we are
being educated, in school and in college, almost exclusively in this
philosophy. There is scarcely a man in authority who dares fly in the
face of current teaching and assert that the religious life of the country,
its foreign policy, its negro problem, and the problem of its economic
future cannot be ordered by the "go-getter," the aggressive man, the
"he-man," the man of action and the organiser .... Indeed it
would seem as though education has been drawn away from its spiritual
foundations.
Americarf Correspondent in London Observer.
> 219
DISCUSSION BEHAVIOUR AND MODERN BIOLOGY.
By Dr. A. H. Martin and Mr. R. Simmat, B.A.
A paper entitled "Behaviour in the Light of Modern Biological
Research," by Mr. R. Simmat, appeared in the last issue of this journal.
Some of the statements are not in harmony with current psychological
doctrine, and require an answer.
On p. 109, par. 4, it is stated that "these reactions are the instirfct-
ive, and have often been more definitely localised as being co-ordinated
in the cerebellum." So far as any neurological evidence is forthcoming
any instinctive centre is rather to be found iri the thalamus, the cere
bellum being regarded as a co-ordinating centre for the maintenance
of bodily equilibrium. The evidence in favour of a thalamic centre
for instincts is twofold: (1) Head s clinical observations upori a
patient suffering from a lesion of the thalamo-cerebral tracts upon
one side of the brain, and (2) evidence from comparative neurology,
which shows the relatively more important development in animals
than in man of the rubro-spinal tract, which has a thalamic "centre."
Such evidence, however, is not final, but the writer is aware of none
even of so slight a nature as this in favour of a cerebellar centre for
instincts.
A statement on p. 110, par. 2, reads, "this state" (Paralysis of one
or more organs) "may be remedied j by cutting the sympathetic n erves
attached to the organ." Such ari assertion seems extremely doubtful.
The reference should have been directly applied to the voluntary
muscles of the limbs, and not to the vital organs. Nor is it true with
out qualification even in the former case.
On p. 112, par. 2, it is stated that "each instinctive act is accom
panied by its emotion." The reference is evidently to McDougall s
thesis of "instinct emotions" which postulates a specific emotion for
every typical instinctive act. Shand criticises this standpoint by
showing that locomotion may be concerned with the expressions of
fear or anger. Other cases are those of vocalisation and construction.
The former is a very general mode of activity subserving the ex
pression of many emotions, the latter is unduobtedly connected with
the emotions of sex and tender emotion. Drever also amends
McDougall s thesis of instinct-emotions by postulating "interests" as
milder forms of the emotions. Unless the latter position is accepted,
life from the affective side, must pursue a continuous welter of
emotions.
On p. 113 par. 2, the statement runs that it "might be more con
venient to call these" (such tendencies as scratching a spot that itches,
blinking an eyelid or sneezing) "pure reflexes." The Watsonian be
haviourist or the physiologist would readily do so, but under the same
head he would include also still more complicated types of reaction,
e.g., instinctive types of behaviour as well as types of voluntary choice,
220 BE HA VIO UR AND MODERN BIOLO G\Y
in the same general category. This however would not meet with Mr.
Simmat s approval, as from a subsequent remark in his article he would
appear to differentiate the various "levels." So far as observation
shows, the itching of a spot on the skin, the irritation of the mucous
membrane preparatory to a sneeze, and in many cases the minatory
movement that induces the eye blink, are, except in sleep, actually and
consciously cognised by the individual in almost every case as clearly
as sensations of taste or colour, and no desire to simplify the classi
fication of such phenomena will justify the relegation of all such types
of action to the spinal level.
Mr. Simmat writes on p. 113, par. 1, "finally there are the in
stincts connected with sex." Such an order of development of the
instincts as here presented appears to be rather strained. Surely Mr.
Simmat s biological training must allow him to concede the early
development of sex, and simple logic would lead him to antedate the
sex instinct to the protective or maternal instinct.
On p. 115, par. 2, it is stated "that panoramic vision cannot per
ceive the third dimension." It may be asked if a human being with
only one eye available for vision does not perceive the third dimen
sion, how then can he react to stimuli which imply this factor? Again
many animals possessing two eyes which cannot act together as one
organ, yet react to depth with accuracy. One would agree that such
cases of panoramic vision do not include steroscopic forms as is the
case with human binocular vision, but the statement that the third
dimension is .not perceived by means of panoramic vision* is not justi
fied by experience. In the case of the cinematograph picture a ready
example is afforded; depth to some extent is still perceived even
though stereoscopic effect is entirely absent. (C.f. Titchener. Text
book, P. 315 par. 2).
On p. 115, par. 4, it is stated that "he no longer merely feels, he
recognises, he discriminates." Cognition surely does riot await the
evolution of self-consciousness and speech; otherwise the results of
ordinary observation and psychological experimentation must both be
fallacious. Discrimination must be present implicitly if not explicitly
as is the case when these other factors are present. Agairi, later in
the same paragraph it is stated that when speech and self-conscious
ness are attained, "he has reached the stage of intelligence." Intelli
gence certainly varies in degree in different individuals, but even a
modicum of the capacity cannot be denied such a lowly animal as the
white rat.
Later, on p. 16, par. 2 and 3, his use of the term "memory" appears
with a connotation entirely different to that specifically accorded it in
psychological texts. The older term suggested by Stout, that of "dis
positions," or the more recent one adopted from Semon, that of
"mneme," covers what Mr. Simmat appears to wish to express; as it
stands, the statement that "Intelligence and ontogenetic memory are
directly proportional to one another" very naturally leads to the infer
ence that intelligence may be directly tested by means of memory.
BEHAVIOUR AND MODERN BIOLOGY 221
Indeed in par. 4, there is a regular transition from his use of the term
memory as "mneme" to memory as capacity for retention and recall,
arid thence to memory as ideas of previous experiences reinstated by
recall, so that one is led to the belief that such is his position. In
any case intelligence does not consist of stores of associations of actual
experiences but is rather of the nature of an innate capacity; mere as
sociations without intelligence make the pedant, but when combiried
with intelligence they make the wise man. Highly intelligent but
youthful individuals do not generally possess the requisite experiences
to make them wise.
A footnote, p. 117, contains the statement "this description fol
lows MacDougall arid to a lesser extent James." The doctrine of vari
ous forms of co-existent "selves" or "me s" such as here portrayed
(p. 117, par. 2) is advanced solely by James and not, so far as can be
discovered through any known references, by McDougall at all.
Finally, with regard to the standpoint of the paper which is pro
fessedly biological, it might be asked what is the biological counter
part of the integrating principle of personality as well as that of the
final moral of the concluding paragraphs, since biology like psychology
is amoral in its outlook. The presumption follows that either the
paper does not confine itself to its obvious title, or else morals and
psychology are merely branches of biology.
A. H. Martin.
II.
Page 109, par 4: In making the remark "these reactions are the
instinctive, and have been more definitely localised as being co
ordinated in the cerebellum" it was not interided to suggest that the
cerebellum is a "centre" for instincts. The writer considers that the
allocation of any particular portion of the brain as a "centre" for any-
thirig is erroneous. In human beings the brain functions more or less
as a whole. It was really intended to suggest that the cerebellum
functions as "the great administrative office which attends to the de
tails of the proper execution of the acts which have previously been
determined upon and initiated in the other departments of Govern
ment." (Herrick, Introduction to Neurology, page 216). Hence, in
stinctive acts (though they are not the only ones) are dependent upon
the cerebellum so far as their ultimate expression is coricerned. This
being understood, the suggestion in the criticism, of a Thalamic
"centre" for instincts is irrelevant. The writer would like to remark,
however, in this respect, that he agrees that this is by no means justi
fied by the evidence. The term Thalamus itself is not definite and may
be applied to (1) the middle arid larger subdivision of the Dien-
cephalon, or (2) the entire Diencephalon.
Page 110, par. 2: An acquaintance with the work of the late Pro
fessor Hunter justifies the statement that "this state (paralysis of one
or more organs) may be remedied by cutting the sympathetic nerves
222 BE HA VIO UR AND MODERN BIOLO GY
attached to the organ." Having listened to a lecture by Professor
Hunter on this subject, the writer is personally quite satisfied ori tha
point. It seems quite clear that the reference is directly to the volun
tary muscles of the limbs since (1) no reference in particular is made
to vital organs, and (2) the preceding sentence makes this position
quite clear. The criticism undoubtedly attaches a too narrow meanirig
to the term "sympathetic nervous system," considering it solely as be
ing concerned with the functioning of the "vital organs," whereas, the
writer understands it to be also concerned with the maintenarice of
the muscle tone of the limbs.
Page 112, par. 2: Whether one accepts the statement that "each
instinctive act is accompanied by its emotion" or not, depends a great
deal on one s definition of ari instinctive act. In his definition of in
stinct the writer has made it clear that he agrees with McDougall s
thesis. So far as Shand s criticism is concerned there can be no doubt
that locomotion may be the expression of the instinct of pugnacity.
Fear is an emotion not an iristinct it is the explicit expression of the
instinct of flight. Drever s amendment of "interests" seems too mild
an expression for any of the feelings accompanying pure instinctive
reactions.
Page 113, par. 1: It would certainly be strarige not to concede the
early development of the sexual instincts. The intention of this para
graph was to trace out the development of various instincts from one
single original tendency. For this purpose nutrition was taken as a
starting point. From what might be called the "n utrition need" there
evolved, search for food, pursuit of prey and the adoption of means for
capturing prey. It is pedantic to say that there is any definite sequence
in these tendencies. The writer then suggested that from the "de
fence need" were developed tendencies towards, firstly, passive defence
(structural), arid secondly, active defence, such as flight and pugnacity.
When it was stated "finally there are the instincts connected with sex"
it was not meant that the sexual instincts were the latest to develop.
They were really present almost from the beginning. The sex in
stincts were placed at the end of the list because they are the most
complicated to trace. Simpler examples of the development of an
iristinct were placed first. The paragraph should be considered as be
ing divided into six portions concerning the development of certain
instincts from (1) the "nutrition need," (2) the "defence need," (3)
the "care of young need," (4) the "sex need," (5) the "social need," arid
finally (6) various instincts of disputable origin.
Page 113, par. 2: The question whether sneezing, scratching, etc.,
are sensation reflexes" or not, depends on what differentiation orie
accepts between a reflex and an instinctive act. The writer has defin
itely committed himself to the view that an instinctive act is (a) one
that promotes the welfare of the organism, (b) one that is accom
panied by an emotion. Sneezing, etc., are accompanied by a minimum
of emotion and so cannot be termed instincts. The blinking of the
BEE A VIO UR AND MODERN BIOLOGY 223
eye may be cognised but one need not cognise the irritation before he
blinks. The cognition process may exist in this case, but it is riot a
necessity for the appropriate reaction to be made. In man cognising
occurs with most reflexes but it is not an essential element. The
reaction can be performed just as effectively, and perhaps more so,
if it is absent. For example if orie knows he wants to sneeze the sneeze
is often inhibited.
Page 115, par. 2: This portion of the paper dealing with Binocular
vision has perhaps excited more comment than any other. One cor
respondent assured the writer that he is convinced that if he closes
one eye he does not see things at all differently from when he uses both
eyes. Obviously when one eye is closed, the field of vision becomes
limited on one side by the nose. Again 1 , with one eye closed it is diffi
cult to estimate distances without any secondary criteria. With the
human being who has only one eye available for visiori, perspective
enables him to appreciate the third dimension to a certain extent
that is to say, he learns to utilise secondary criteria in order that he
should perceive depth, etc. With regard to animals possessing two
eyes which act independently and who react to depth with accuracy
iri these cases the first question is how accurately do they react to
depth? Experimental observations are by no means definite on this
point. If they do it is due to special phenomena which result from a
process of the decussation of the fibres in the optic chiasma. If pano-
romic vision does react to the third dimension at all it is not due to
the "overlapping" of the fields of vision as is the case with biriocular
vision. If pano-ramic vision does react to depth the process is the
result of neurological combination, and is not a true perceptive pro
cess, where the combination is more "mental." Depth is perceived in
the cinematograph picture by means of perspective, i.e., by secondary
criteria.
Page 115, par. 3: Whether cognition awaits the development of self-
consciousness or not is a disputed question. Much depends on the par
ticular system of psychology to which one adheres. Miss Calkins
would certainly agree that it does. "Cogito, ergo sum" seems also to
imply this. It is impossible to cognise completely without some re
ference to self as something most intimately concerned with the
reality to be cognised. The latter portion of the criticism ori this para
graph shows that the conception of intelligence outlined in the follow
ing paragraph has not been understood. The reactions of a white
mouse are not completely intelligent, because they are not made in
accordance with ari "idea of behaviour." This consistency with an
"idea of behaviour" is true of human behaviour alone, and then not
always. When there is no consistency, the reactions cease to be intelli
gent. A great deal depends on the connotation of "intelligent." In
the next paragraph the writer has outlined his conceptions. The state
ment "intelligence and ontogenetic memory are directly proportional
to one another," is justified by the fact that the intelligent act is that in
which the individual brings to bear all his previous experiences upon a
224 BEHAVIOUR AND MODERN BIOLOGY
situation and reacts accordingly. The inference that intelligence may
be tested by ontogenetic memory certainly follows. No tests have yet
beeri devised to estimate ontogenetic memory; such would involve ex
ploration of the whole subconscious strata of the individual. The ex
ploded psychological fallacy is that intelligence cannot be tested by
means of "memory span". The memory of the memory span is an en
tirely different thing to ontogenetic memory, i.e., the ability of the indi
vidual to synthesize the facts of his life history so that, when a situ
ation demands, those pertinent can be consciously or sub-consciously
recalled. The recall is more often sub-conscious than conscious.
Page 117, footnote: How far the footnote is true may be estimated
by the fact that most of the description given in the first and second
paragraphs on the page is a paraphrase of pages 176 to 190, from "An
Introduction to Social Psychology," by William McDougall. The con
ception of the various "selves" is certainly that of James, but even
this is interpreted in the light of McDougall s description. The writer
endeavoured to combine the two conceptions and, in doing so, utilised
McDougall s work much more than that of James. Hence the footnote.
The final criticism resolves itself into two portions: (1) the ques
tion what biological counterpart is there to the integrating principle
of personality? (2) the relation of morals and psychology to biology.
The first may be answered by reference to Professor Graftori Elliot
Smith s book, "The Evolution of Man" page 26. Here the view is ad
vanced that as the Neopallium evolved so did intelligence and capacity
for the association of ideas develop. In tracing out the evolution of
the Neopallium we may trace the evolutiori of mind and, with mind,
personality.
Whether Morals and Psychology are branches of Biology has been
argued before this. The writer s point of view is that Morals and
Psychology are dependent on Biology just as much as Biology is de
pendent on Psychology. No one branch of knowledge is independent
of any other. The Psychology that is based upon a knowledge of
Biology is much better fundamentally than that which is based upon
metaphysical speculation. Similarly, we may accept a system of
morals with more conviction if it is the result of thought upon life as
presented by the facts of biological research. The ideal is to make
morals fit the facts of life and not unnaturally to distort our life
to make it compatible with a metaphysical system of morals the out
come of speculation alone.
R. Simmat.
225
REVIEWS AND NOTICES OF BOOKS.
BENEDICT SPINOZA. By J. Alexander Gunn. Macmillan & Co., in
association with the Melbourne University Press. Pp. xii + 167.
Melbourne, 1924. Price 8/6.
"This little work," says the author in his preface, "aims at giving,
along with a biographical sketch, a general vue d ensemble of the
thought of one of the world s greatest philosophers." With this end
in view Professor Gunn has succeeded in producing a very compact
and useful volume. It is appreciative rather than critical, and should
serve as a good introduction either to students beginning a study of
Spinoza or to those whose prejudices have kept them from a first-hand
acquaintance with the writings of this so-called pantheist. But it is
more than an introduction. Professor Gunn leads us to view-points
which may be easily overlooked even by the seasoned student of the
Ethics. The data of his exposition are drawn from a wide field of
research. The volume is enriched with a portrait of the philosopher,
a map of the "Spinoza country," and a very complete bibliography.
Two chapters of biographical and historical interest help the reader to
grasp the true significance of Spinoza s Metaphysics, Psychology,
Ethics, and Sociology. These are lucidly expounded in four chapters
entitled, "The Nature of the Universe," "Human Nature, Passionate
and Rational," "Liberty: Religious and Political," and "The Common
wealth." Especially interesting is the light which the author throws
upori the sociological and political views of Spinoza. "He would sup
port in these times," says Professor Gunn, "a Labour Party in Parlia
ment, and an intelligent use of the vote, while condemning revolution
ary politics. But he does not wish his objections to be made an
apology for despotism or absolutism."
If this volume will induce many readers to study the writings of
Spinoza rather than merely gather opinions about his philosophy, it
will serve a very useful purpose. Now that "Everyman s Library"
includes the Ethics vt Spinoza, together with the valuable fragment on
The Improvement of the Understanding, there is little excuse, even for
the general reader, to remain unacquainted with his philosophy. It
may require some courage to surmount the difficulties which the phil
osopher (in an age devoted to Mathematics) imposes upon his readers
by employing the method of Euclidean geometry when formulating his
doctrines. But those who work steadily through his closely reasoned
propositions to the end of his system of Ethics will find that they have
gained a new and illuminating conception of the universe and man s
place therein. The dualism of Descartes which separates mind and
matter into two distinct substances a dualism which Spinoza sought
to resolve is after all the working philosophy of most people. The
monism of Spinoza, who regards mind and matter as but attributes of
one self-existent and eternal Substance, is essentially the philosophy
of those scientists and theologians who wish to obtain an all-inclusive
view of Reality. When Science speaks of "Nature," an d Theology of
"God," they but postulate that unity and uniformity behind all particu-
226 REVIEWS
lars which Spinoza expresses in his idea of "Substance." To the
scientist Spinoza may seem hopelessly involved in Metaphysics, and
the theologian may shudder at his Pantheism, but philosophically he
affords them the only logical standpoint if they wish to avoid the dual
ism of Descartes arid to envisage Reality as One. That some further
advance is possible beyond the static impersonalism of Spinoza the
history of subsequent philosophy gives abundant evidence. But to in
telligently follow the advances made, whether by Hegel into the calm
realm of absolute Spirit or by Bergson into the flux of Cosmic Becom
ing, the student must begin with the Substance of Spinoza arid in the
spirit of his "intellectual love of God/ The inadequacy of the cate
gory of Substance, as an ultimate principle of explanation, will be felt
by those who read Professor Gunn s illuminating volume and then study
afresh the writings of Spirioza himself.
M. Scott Fletcher.
LUTERO. By V. Macchioro. Formiggini, Rome, 1925. 87 pp. Price,
3.50 lire.
This brochure (in the Italian series Profili) by the emirient Italian
archaeologist and historian, Prof. Macchioro, deserves special atten
tion because of the vividness of the picture, the choice of the salient
features in a great character study, the psychological insight into
Luther s motives arid inner life, and the significance assigned to Luther
in the evolution of human thought. The author recognises that the best
illustrations are to be drawn from Luther s own words. Macchioro
holds our attention in his presentation of this man of "terrible faith"
in God, of assiduous prayer-life, of many moods, in whom several
souls dwelt, this legalist, bitter controversialist, poet, impassioned
preacher, church organiser, this mystic arid stern man of action.
Luther, like all outstanding personalities, compels us to the task
of attempting to explain him. The literature he has called forth
from friends, foes, and neutrals, witnesses to his greatness; for ex
ample, the works of the eminent Cathlolic historians, Denifle and Grisar,
and of the Protestants Kostliri, Kawerau, Berger, Harnack. His pro
nounced contradictions and antitheses render obvious the difficulty of
contemplating the actual man on the pages of fair-minded historians
of whatever creed. Of none could it be said more truthfully than of
Luther, "Ich biri ein Mensch mit meinem Widerspruch." But to stud
ents of the history of human thought, phenomena like Luther, Ignatius
of Loyola, George Fox, John Wesley, Cardinal Newman, furnish un
ending interest. One cannot lightly dismiss the ex-monk who inaugur
ated a movement beyond his own power of control, who caused the
greatest schism in Western Christianity, comparable in importance only
with the Great Schism of East and West, who led the revolt of the
Northern spirit against that of the Mediterranean, who was pitted
against the greatest Holy Roman emperor since Charlemagne with the
slaughter of more Christians to his credit than all the Pagan Roman 4
emperors. The mediaeval and the modern meet in him. In his
REVIEWS 227
ideas of hell, his belief in demonic influences and the awful activities
of a personal Satan, in his inability to the end to substitute the love
of God for the fear of God as Judge, in his theology of atoriement, in
his anti-intellectualism of faith against and superior to reason, in the
realism of his Anti-Christ (ultimately identified, unfortunately, with the
Pope), his anticipation of the end of the world (which he fixed for
J.540), his appeal to objective authority (in his case the Bible), he
looked toward the past. But Luther was also prophetic of a new out
look. Contrary to his own intention his protest developed into a re
volution. His ideas proved more fertile than he could have antici
pated. As his revolt arose out of the bitter experience of his own
inner life and his inability to understand the serene religion of his
friend and corifessor, Staupitz, so a new momentum was given to ex
perience as the surest means of attaining knowledge of God. By a
strange trick of thought the reformer who held to the God of Duns
Scotus and Occam as Supreme Will, and who maintained, therefore,
that there is only one Will, that of God, and who seemed to glorify
God at the expense of mari, became the apostle of liberty. In his doc
trine of justification by faith he laid a new responsibility on the human
soul and became the prophet of that subjectivity of religion which
was the .necessary reaction against the regnant objectivity and col
lectivism even in the over-emphasis an d one-sidedness of that subject
ivity which became the disease of Protestantism because of its neglect
of the counterbalancing truth of Latin Christianity. "Hence," says
JVTacchioro, "modern thought began, in reality, with him, and not with
Erasmus or the others who were substantially more modern spirits
thari this intolerant and superstitious friar. What they and other con
temporaries and predecessors of Luther lacked, the note which is the
essence of the modern age, he had in a powerful degree individual
ism. From Luther, and not from the others, originates the Kantian
conception of religion as an ethic, quite distinct from philosophy, also
the criticism to which the Konigsberg philosopher subjected dogma arid
sacrament. And from Kant descends Hegel, who is almost immersed
in the current of Lutheranism. The whole modern conception of re
ligion as experience is linked up with the Lutheran conception. Martiri
Luther was therefore at once mediaeval and modern: mediaeval in
intolerance, in fanaticism, in vulgarity; modern in liberty, iri love of
culture, in the rehabilitation of life in its sanity and vigour, and of a
joyous and robust faith which consists not in ari adhesion to a body
of doctrines, but is a life of the spirit . . . Dead is his theology, but
more vital than ever is the immense impulse which he imparted to the
story of the human spirit, to the gradual and laborious apprehension
of God."
Luther and his opponents, the Reformation and the Counter-
Reformation 1 , in their extreme and inadequate asseverations, in their
successes and failures, yet each necessary moments in the unhasting
but unresting evolution of a living religion, point to a future catholic
ity of Christianity in which authority and liberty shall consort, in
22S REVIEWS
which individualism and collectivism shall be mutually contributory
so that the individual or group religious experience may be welcomed
as an enrichment as also an expression of that of the whole; in which
the "romanticist" Christian with his reverence for the past arid his
imitation of antiquity may grasp the hand of a modern brother with
his forward-looking gaze arid passion for creative experimentation;
which without abating one iota on the moral repressions shall advance
and prompt the moral expansions; a catholicity which shall combine
and transcend the subjective and the objective types of a religion which
has as its core the union of the divirie and the human concerning which
Dante prays so fervently in the close of his Paradiso. Neither a Latin
ised nor a Judaised Christianity is necessarily the last word in the liv
ing spiritual religion of Jesus.
S. Angus.
THE PSYCHOLOGY OF RELIGION. By W. B. Selbie, M.A., D.D.
Oxford University Press, 1924. Pp. 310.
The publication of a Series "for the use of Theological Students
and of others who are arixious for wise and sober instruction on ques
tions of Religion and Theology," by the Clarendon Press is a note
worthy event. This timely book by the Principal of Mansfield College,
and Wilde Lecturer in Natural and Comparative Religion in the Uni
versity of Oxford is the first published work of the Series. Dr. Selbie
brings to his task a mind at once well furnished and judicial. He
knows his subject; he is hospitable to new ideas; but he always
keeps his head. Perhaps there is .no subject at the present time which
calls so urgently for "wise and sober" treatment as Psychology.
Specialization must be combined with philosophical grasp and vision.
The "New Psychology" may become a closed circle! Backgrounds are
needed as well as foreground-detail. The abnormal must not be corf-
fused with conditions of healthy-mindedness, or we may all become
abnormal. But Dr. Selbie s pulse is steady, and his vision is clear. He
examines the subject from every point of view, and gives calm and
reasoned pronouncements uporf the most important issues. His mat
erial is "religious experience in all its vast variety," including "the
ideas and theories to which it has given expression, especially if be
haviour is to be regarded as a proper field for psychological investiga
tion" (page 62). In the light of recent research, he considers the
genetic aspects of religion, and the value which is to be attached to
them. Speakirig of the attempts that have been made to find "the
roots and essence" of religion in individual processes e.g., fear, self-
preservation, wonder, curiosity, social and sexual instincts, he admits
that these and other traits have "profoundly influenced the expression
and development of the religious consciousness. But to make any one
of them its exclusive or even paramount occasion is.. to depart-
mentalise human nature. The basis of religion is not to be found in
any one faculty but in man s mind workirig as a whole" (page 41.) If
religion is not a human instirict it is a tendency strong enough to
REVIEWS 229
"sublimate primitive instincts," e.g., fear and sex, and is "something
sui generis, and therefore able to use them for its own high ends (page
13.) A chapter on "The Unconscious in Religious Experience" intro
duces the reader to the debatable land of the "new Psychology." He
traces the growth of the idea of the Unconscious through Hamilton",
Myers, James, Bleuler, Bergson, Titchener, Ward, and Rivers, and
then examines the theory of Freud. Dr. Selbie acknowledges the utility
of the concept of the Unconscious in the light of the psychology of
religion, but warns the student against regarding such ari admission
as equivalent to an "explanation" of the problems of experience. The
Unconscious seems to be "lower," and not "higher," in a moral and
spiritual sense more primal and instinctive, and certainly less rational.
Hence Sanday s Christological hypothesis does not seem to be sound,
viz., that "the Unconscious" stood for the Divine Nature in the Per
son of Christ. The chapter on Cult and Worship brings a "potpourri"
before the mind, including the eviderices of "the herd instinct." The
author says (p. 108) "The contention of certain sociological psycholo
gists like Ames, King, Durkheim, and others, that religious cultus has
its rise in the form of social life, and is the reflection of certain im
portant group interests, can hardly now be maintained." The subject
in its Theistic bearings is pursued in the chapters on Belief in God, the
Individual, and Society. Interesting studies are given on Childhood
and Adolescence, Conversion, Prayer, Sin and Repentance, Mysticism
and Immortality; while the concluding chapter treats of Religion and
The New Psychology. The theoretical and therapeutical aspects of
Psycho-analysis are studied in relation to philosophy, psychology, and
religion; and Dr. Selbie developes a very fair estimate of the somewhat
exaggerated claims of the new tendencies, wheri pushed forward to
the exclusion of accepted psychology and the claims of metaphysics,
which must be the ultimate arbiter of many problems raised in the
special sciences and pseudo-sciences.
The view-point of the author is not obtruded in the book, but the
following truths are contended for in the course of the investigation,
(1) That religion is a deep-seated and universal tendency in human
nature, involving man s whole being in some respect or other; (2) that
it carinot be reduced to mere subjectivism, or its content to mere
"projections" of consciousness; and (3) that the facts and theories
of all branches of Psychology, whether "new" or old, including Psycho
analysis, Suggestionism, and theories of the Group-mind, must look to
philosophy and experience for the determination of their validity, or
otherwise; arid connot be adequately treated by any discipline which
falls short of a metaphysical (or meta-psychological) method and aim.
This work of Dr. Selbie s is an extremely valuable treatment of a
subject that is intensely alive at the present time; and it is that
will repay careful study by representatives of all schools of thought.
One might wish for fewer quotations from the writers referred to by
the author; but doubtless those are intended as hostages to absolute
fairness, where so much is highly controversial; and again, orfe might
230 REVIEWS
desire a complete bibliography for this book of 300 pages, and not
merely a few references at the end of each chapter. But these are
slight criticisms on the form of a book which is conspicuous for its
sanity and readableness, while being suitable as a text-book for ad
vanced students and graduates.
E. N. Merririgton.
EXPERIENCE AND NATURE. By John Dewey. Open Court Publish
ing Company. Chicago. 1925. Pp. 443. Price 3 dollars.
In the first series of lectures under the Paul Carus foundation in
America Professor Dewey, starting from the attitude of Pragmatic
Empiricism, dissents from the older empiricisms which, pretending to
be based upon experience, were always implicity selective. It is the
whole of experience from which he starts, both experienced arid
experiencing. To the objection that this seems to leave experience
without any meaning, he replies that for philosophy experience means
method, not subject-matter. True empiricism is denotative a method
of philosophy recognising "that to settle any discussion we must go to
something pointed to, denoted, and find our answer in that thing."
Philosophy were better without that much abused word Experience,
but it is needed until philosophers "who are wont to start with highly
simplified premisses" come finally to see "that the world which is lived,
suffered and enjoyed as well as logically thought of has the last word in
all human enquiries."
Starting from this all-embracing empiricism, Professor Dewey
proceeds to cut away the presuppositions upon which many of the
traditional problems of philosophy rest, problems which are indeed
reduced by him to nothingness. Thus the epistemological problem
vanishes. If to have an experience is to know it. The problem is in
evitable, but to have is not necessarily to know: experience has simpler
forms than knowing. Sense data, for example, are experiences had,
are simply the unique qualities that they are, and empirically, there
fore, neither physical .nor psychical. But if to have is to know, theri
sweet, for example, cannot be simply "sweet," a quality given, but must
be either (since these are our highest categories of classification un
der knowing) physical or psychical, and the unreal problem begins. The
allied problem of the relation of sense-data to the object of physical
science is solved when it is shown that we have here riot two kinds of
knowledge, but "two dimensions of experienced things, one that of
having them, and the other that of knowing about them, so that we
can again have them in more meaningful arid secure ways."
The problem of body and mind vanishes if we remember that the
distinction between the physical and mental is not empirically given,
but is a reflective interpretation of experience. Thus we are told, irf
the chapter on Nature Life and Body-mind, that the idea that matter,
life, and mind represent separate kinds of being is a doctrine that
springs, as so many philosophic errors have sprung, from a substanti
ation of eventual functions. The distinction between the physical and
REVIEWS 231
the mental is simply a distinction corresponding to complexity of inter
action among natural events, and iri the earlier chapter on Existence,
we are introduced to the strange conception that mind and matter are
merely "different characters of natural events," matter expressing
"their sequential order" and mind "the order of their meanings in
their logical connections and dependencies."
Many things disappear at the hands of this destructive empiricism,
or remain tarnished in quality. In nature, not only final causes, but
efficient causes also are swept from the board: iri mind, the Ego re
ceives short shrift, and even the unique individual mind, beloved of
philosophers since Descartes, is questioned. Thought itself, if I under
stand Professor Dewey aright, is merely the product of language, and
language arises from that kind of interaction we call communication,
which rests apparently ori a material of mere physiological signs. How
the need of communication arises without some germ of thought it is
hard to understand, and it is strange to find a thinker like Professor
Dewey going so far on the road to Behaviourism, as he does in the
Chapter on Nature and Communication.
Reason, as we must expect, topples here from its higher estate to
become instrumental merely. Reason, shall we say, is but the most
complex fact of a natural world. We can understand man and nature
only in interaction with each other, and reason is but the highest form
of interaction. Without reason man is but a shuttlecock iri the web of
nature, but with its emergence man becomes able to direct this inter
action, because under the light of reason causes can become means and
effects consequences. "Man in riature is man subjected; nature in
man, recognised and used, is intelligence and art."
Altogether this is an arresting book containing many new atti
tudes to traditional problems. There is much iri it that will set both
Idealists and Realists by the ears. And much that they will find for
midable to answer. It is a pity, however, that Professor Dewey seems
to be losing with advancing years his brighter touch. Is this the in
evitable result of that much analysis that we name philosophy? If so,
let every professional philosopher be compelled one in a while to call
a halt and write a drama, or at the least learn a musical instrument.
C. F. Salmorid.
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Vol. V. No. 4. April, 1925. Editorial: "The Eclectics." Recent
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L ANN^E PSYCHOLOGIQUE. 24th year, 1923. F. Alcan, Paris.
Price 40 francs.
Les proble"mes psychologiques de la perception du temps: H.
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PHILOSOPHISCHE BLATTER. Edited by Arnold Bolsche. R. Heise,
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No. 7. January, 1924. The ancient and the modern Logos: Paul
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Vol. XVI. Nos. 5-6. Sept-Dec. 1924. The Unity of the Christian
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Vol. VI., Part 2, April 1925. Mother Right and the Sexual Ignor
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234: NOTES AND NEWS
NOTES AND NEWS.
The nucleus of a Local Branch has been formed at Broken Hill,
N.S.W., by Mr. C. B. Newling, B.A. This example might be followed in
other centres. A few members of the Association meet fortnightly in
each others homes. One member reads a paper on an article in the
Journal, followed by free and informal discussion.
At a meeting of the Sydney Local Branch of the Association, held
at the University on June 16th, Mr. Raymond N. Kershaw, Rhodes
Scholar, of Sydney University, and now of the Secretariat of the League
of Nations, read a paper on "The League and International Ethics."
On August 20th, Professor Angus, Ph.D., D.Litt, D.D., read a paper on
The Mystery Religions of the Graeco-Roman World.
A local Branch of the Association has been formed at Wellington,
N.Z. President, the Right Honourable Sir Robert Stout, K.C.M.G.,
P.C.,; Vice-Presidents, Dr. Eardley Fenwick, P. Fraser, M.P., and Pro
fessor T. A. Hunter; Hon. Sec. and Treasurer, Dr. Sutherland. At the
opening meeting, the subject discussed was "Psychology and the World
To-day." Papers were contributed by Dr. Eardley Fenwick, "Psycho
logy and Medicine"; Professor J. S. Tennarit, "Psychology and Edu
cation;" and Dr. Sutherland, "Psychology and Industry." The fee for
membership was fixed at 12/-, which includes subscription to the Asso
ciation and Journal. The new Branch starts with a membership of
fifty.
The Auckland Branch of the Association has had several meetings
at which original papers have been read, and articles in the Journal
discussed. Mr. H. C. Becroft, M.A., Secretary of the Branch, has been
appointed Lecturer in Psychology at the Auckland Training College.
The Senior Lectureship in Philosophy at Melbourne University
(salary 500), will become vacant at the end of the year through the
resignation of Dr. S. C. Lazarus.
Mr. K. S. Cunningham, M.A., Evening Lecturer in Philosophy,
has gone to Columbia University to engage in post-graduate study in
Psychology and Education.
Mr. A. R. Knight, who graduated at Sydney University, with First-
class Honours in Philosophy, and was awarded the Wooley Travelling
Scholarship in 1923, has graduated at Cambridge University with First-
class Honours in Philosophy. Mr. Knight was recently elected to a
Senior Scholarship at Trinity College, Cambridge.
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fo\. III. DECEMBER. 1925. No. 4
cflustralasian Journal
OF
^ Philosophy
Edited by FRANCIS ANDERSON, M.A.,
Emeritus Professor of Philosophy in the University of Sydney
With the co-operation of
V. ANDERSON, M.A. (Auckland) H. T. LOVELL, M.A., PH.D. (Sydney)
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. A. GUNN, M.A., B.Sc., PH.D. (Melb.) B. Muscio, M.A. (Sydney)
\ A. HUNTER, M.A., M.Sc. (Wellington) C. F. SALMOND, M.A. (Canterbury)
$. C. LAZARUS, M.A., D.PHIL. (Melb.) J. McK. STEWART, M.A., D.PHIL. (Adel)
CONTENTS
The National Institute of Industrial Psychology. By G H.
Miles, D.Sc.
feud s Psychoanalytic Theory of Taboos of the Dead. By
Professor R. F. Alfred Hoernle
Economic Aspects of Population. By Professor R. C. Mills.
ifroeltsch s Philosophy of History. By Kenneth T. Henderson,
M.A., B.Litt.
Changes in Christian Thought. By Professor Vittorio Macchioro.
Great Thinkers (2) Bergson. By Professor J. Alexander Gunn.
Discussion (1) : Sacrifice. By T. Jasper. (2) Examination of
Immigrants. By Persia C. Campbell, M.A.
Report: Industrial Psychology A Short Bibliography. By
R. Simmat, B.A.
Reviews and Notices of Books, Etc. Notes and News.
PUBLISHED BY THE
AUSTRALASIAN ASSOCIATION OF PSYCHOLOGY 8e PHILOSOPHY
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Other Monographs in preparation
The Australasian Association of Psychology
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Australasian Journal of Psychology and Philosophy
VOL. III. DECEMBER, 1925. No. 4.
THE NATIONAL INSTITUTE OF INDUSTRIAL
PSYCHOLOGY.
By George H. Miles, D.Sc., Assistant Director of the National
Institute of Industrial Psychology, London.
THE National Institute of Industrial Psychology was in
corporated as a Research Association in 1921, for the practical
application of psychology and physiology to human problems in
industry and commerce. In the four years which have elapsed
since its incorporation, it has carried out investigations in a wide
range of occupations, extending from coal mining to work in tea-
shops. In spite of the very difficult period through which the
country has been passing, it has been able to extend its activities
in many directions. In addition to its industrial work, a Voca
tional Section has been established, in order that psychological
problems concerning Vocational Guidance may be worked out and
the results utilised when giving advice to persons requiring guidance
in the choice of an occupation. Many firms interested in supple
menting their methods of selection, by psychological tests, have
sought assistance in this direction, and the Institute has devised
and put into operation, tests for turners, fitters, draughtsmen,
typists, shorthand clerks, comptomotrists and for a number of other
occupations, such as assembly work, weaving, soldering, press work,
etc.
Parallel with this growth has come a demand for training
in the methods and for practice in devising, administering and
evaluating such tests. Several firms have sent members of their
staff for training nt the Institute, and numerous Education
Authorities interested in mental testing and vocational guidance
have sent groups of teachers for short courses or have invited mem
bers of the staff of the Institute to deliver lectures and give demon
strations of the work.
In carrying out this work a number of problems have been
encountered, which have required special treatment, and from the
experience obtained, much more definite methods of attacking in
dustrial problems have been evolved.
The industrial work has been done, in the main part, for pri
vate firms. In this respect the work of the Institute differs from
that of the Industrial Fatigue Research Board, which is concerned
with problems common to a number of industries, or common to a
large part of an industry. Though individual firms may be
236 NATIONAL INSTITUTE
greatly interested in this aspect, they frequently require help in
the practical application of the results or need assistance in dealing
with their own peculiar difficulties, and to such firms the Institute s
work is particularly useful. From its beginning it was realised
that the Institute should be an impartial body, that it should keep
clear of political controversy, and devote its attention to the com
mon ground, where improved working conditions and improved
output were likely to result from its investigations. It was fur
ther essential that its recommendations should be of a thoroughly
practical nature and of a definite economic value to the firms con
cerned. It, therefore, began with comparatively limited aims,
and its attention has necessarily been mainly confined to every-day
problems which were capable of, at any rate, part solution within
the limited time of an investigation. In order to obtain results
of a scientific nature, much time in each investigation was of ne
cessity taken up in the collection of statistical material, upon which
suggestions were based, and it was necessary to test the value of
the suggestions under definite control. Finally, the alterations
in method had to be clearly defined and put into a thoroughly
practical form, so that the improvements could be easily maintained.
In such work it is obvious that much more than mechanical
alteration in method is necessary. Without the full co-operation
of both workers and managers, such changes are of only temporary
value, and in many cases, therefore, an important part of the in
vestigator s task has consisted in changing the outlook of those con
cerned.
It is a difficult task at first to convince both management and
workers of the need for accurate records of what may at first sight
appear to be trivial matters, but the results obtained have in the end
been so convincing of the value of the work, that some of the
larger firms have appointed work psychologists, and it is gratifying
to note that other firms have again requested the services of the
Institute as new problems have arisen.
In addition to actual investigations, propaganda of an educa
tional nature has been necessary, in order to acquaint both workers
and employers of the possibilities of such work. In this task
the Institute has been greatly helped by the press accounts of its
investigations, often given in the daily press in rather too popular
a form, but the technical papers have given more exact details and,
in addition, lectures have been given to business clubs, Rotary
Clubs, Workers Associations, Debating Societies, Works Com
mittees, Foremen s Committees, etc. Use has also been made of
the extraordinary facilities which broadcasting has given in reach
ing all classes, and a series of talks has been given on subjects deal-
OF INDUSTRIAL PSYCHOLOGY 237
ing with the Institute s activities. These efforts were at first slow
in bearing fruit, but by limiting its investigations to definite, well-
defined pieces of work, it has been possible to demonstrate in no
uncertain fashion the advantages of the application of psychology
to industry. Naturally, it was at first difficult to convince the
employer, who is accustomed to decide intuitively or empirically
most questions of organisation and management, that there was
any need for a prolonged investigation. American experts and
"business doctors" had spread the idea that the reforms could be
introduced after a rapid survey of a factory or workshop, and, un
doubtedly, much on the mechanical side can be done in this way,
but on the human side hasty steps may easily involve conditions
which, in time, adversely affect the human organism. A high
bonus incentive, for instance, may give good results for quite a long
period, owing to the men working considerably above capacity, but
in the end, unless steps have been taken to facilitate the work, re
action is sure to set in. It is obviously necessary for the Institute s
investigations to be spread over as long a period as possible, in order
that accurate records of the effect of changes made should be
ascertained. In every case the Institute asks for a member of the
firm to be directly interested in the continuance of the methods and,
furthermore, visits from investigators who have carried out the
work, take place periodically after the main investigation has been
finished, in order to advise and check work which is being done.
In the course of these investigations problems calling for more
extensive research than the limited practical requirements allow,
have frequently been encountered. There are problems connected
with lighting, for instance, which require much deeper investigation.
In the past, lighting engineers have viewed the whole question from
the physical side. Measurement of light intensity, etc., though
useful as a rough guide, is by no means sufficient when considering
the effect of lighting conditions on such an adaptable organ as
the human eye, and problems have arisen which required experi
mental work in the laboratory to help in their solution. In two
coal mine investigations, for instance, numerous dark-room experi
ments have been necessary, in order to establish facts concerning
the best type of illumination. Practical application of the results
gave an increase in output of 14 per cent.
In some cases it has been possible to obtain assistance from
research students at the Universities, and facilities have been
granted to the Institute s investigators for carrying out laboratory
work connected with investigations. In this way the Psychological
Departments of London, Cambridge and Manchester Universities
have given great help in a number of problems.
238 NATIONAL INSTITUTE
There is, in all directions, great need for much wider research.
It is, furthermore, important that the work should be carried out
in close association with practical conditions, and it is one of the
regrets of the Institute that sufficient funds are not available for
work which, when carried out, will have an enormous value in
future investigations, and will give solid ground for much that at
present has to be decided on quite insufficient data.
Time study plays an important part in the Institute s work,
and here again advances have been made. Time study gives a
true picture of working sequence, and is valuable from the point
of view of records, but this represents only the physical side of the
picture. Far more important are the observations which accom
pany it. Thus a delay of a second or two in a cycle of operations
may, from the purely physical point of view, appear insignificant
and the elimination of the hindrance which causes this delay may
only make a difference of a few minutes in the course of the day,
but if such delay, slight as it is, produces in the worker irritation
or requires undue strain, the ultimate effect on output is far
greater than the mere loss of time indicates It is at points such
as these that the difference between the outlook of the time study
expert and psychologist is seen. From the mechanical aspect the
time saved may be insignificant, but from the human point of view,
there may be an immense saving of energy which can be more
effectively applied in actual work. In one of the Institute s in
vestigations the time taken in assembling certain articles was re
duced by 35 per cent., by attention to a number of apparently in
significant points at which time was lost, but the reduction in
fatigue was 1 so marked that the workers thanked the investigator
for his help.
In movement study, too, much more than the mechanical
aspects must be taken into account by the psychologist. In many
instances it has been found that apparently unnecessary movements
are in reality serving useful physiological purposes 1 , and where
movements involve considerable strain, it may often be advantageous
to increase the number of movements and so reduce the incidence
of mental or physical strain on the worker. Thus, in one investiga
tion an increase in output of 40 per cent, was obtained by such
procedure, though the number of movements was doubled.
Another group of problems frequently having a common
psychological basis is that concerned with waste in production,
caused by the so-called "carelessness" or lack of "conscientiousness"
of the workers. By seeking the cause of such faults it has fre
quently been found that such waste is in a large measure caused
by fatigue, irritation, unnecessary frequency of handling and in poor
OF INDUSTRIAL PSYCHOLOGY 239
environmental conditions, such as bad lighting, insufficient air cir
culation or high temperature. By reducing these detrimental
factors, large reductions of waste have been obtained. In one
case breakages in a catering establishment were reduced by 53 per
cent., in another case by 44 per cent., and in another instance waste
was reduced by 8 per week. Similar remedies have been found
effective where there have been complaints of inefficient inspection
of finished articles. In every case the removal of extraneous
strain has, naturally, had a beneficial effect on the worker s well-
being.
In many industrial occupations, especially in light repetitive
work, it has for a long time been recognised that rest pauses have
a beneficial effect. The frequency and duration of these has, how
ever, largely been determined by rule of thumb methods, and but
little accurate experimental work has been done. The Institute
has, on several investigations, experimented in this direction, and
increases of output of from 5 to 10 per cent, have been obtained.
It has found, too, that even better results may, in particular cases,
be obtained by change of work, and laboratory experiments have
recently pointed to the fact that a complete rest is not always the
best means of recovery. In a spinning mill recent experience has
shown that even in this industry, where production is so largely
dependent on machinery, better work and increased output can be
obtained by suitably organised pauses. An analysis of work curves
obtained before and after the introduction of the pause shows the
interesting fact that in this instance the improved output extends
over the whole spell, and seems to indicate that the anticipaion
of breaks in an otherwise monotonous four hours spell has produced
a definite effect on the first half-hours work.
As had been stated previously, considerable progress has been
made in devising tests for various occupations, and in this work the
Institute has gained valuable experience, though at many points
problems have arisen which required new methods of approach. It
is often extremely difficult in industry to obtain sufficiently large
groups of workers to form the basis of a thorough statistical evalua
tion of the tests that are devised. Even when a consistent group
is available trade fluctuations are at any time liable to interfere
with experimental conditions. There are difficulties, too, in ob
taining accurate ranking of performance, and it is obviously absurd
to attempt to apply elaborate statistical methods unless a reliable
ranking can be obtained. Experiments in different methods of
rating and rating scales are in progress, and promise useful results
in the future.
240 INSTITUTE OF INDUSTRIAL PSYCHOLOGY
In most industries workers below a certain level of efficiency
are eliminated, and members of the resultant group, from this 1 and
other causes, frequently show only small differences in ability. The
work of determining suitable selection tests is obviously complicated
by this fact, and has necessitated the trial of several methods, the
validity and usefulness of which can only be determined by a care
ful follow up" of results when applied to new candidates. In fact,
in all industrial tests this is essential. From a practical point
of view the tests that the Institute has devised have evidently given
complete satisfaction to the firms concerned, and are undoubtedly
a valuable supplement to the older methods of selection, but the
Institute is only too well aware of the need for reseach in the
laboratory, and in industry itself, to devise more scientific methods
of attacking such problems. Work in this direction is in progress,
and special attention is also being given to the development of
tests and methods of observation, which will determine such elusive
qualities as temperament and other factors which play an important
part in a person s success and well-being in a particular occupa
tion.
It will be recognised that although the Institute s activities
have covered a wide field, there are many wider problems, such as
the value of various incentives in production, measure of the cost
to the individual of numerous forms of physical and mental activity,
etc., that seem as remote as ever from solution or even the method
of approach ; but it is felt that at such an early stage in the work
it was far better to concentrate on problems within a measurable
distance of solution than to dissipate effort on questions which re
quire far more co-operative effort and many more trained investi
gators that are at present available. By producing definite results
it has called attention to possibilities and has interested a wide
group of practical men in the human side of industry. Indeed, it
may be truly said of all the Institute s work, that its influence is far
greater than can be measured by the mere increase of output re
corded in the numerous investigations 1 that it has carried out, and
it is hoped that in time this effect will bear fruit in the acknow
ledgment on the part of industry, of the pressing need for wider
research.
SIGMUND FREUD S PSYCHO-ANALYTIC THEORY OF
THE TABOOS OF THE DEAD.
By Professor R. F. Alfred Hoernle, M.A., B.Sc., Professor of
Philosophy, University of The Witwatersrand, Johannesburg,
South Africa.
THE following paper embodies a section of one lecture, de
livered as part of a course, on the "Psychology of Primitive
Peoples/ during the Bantu Studies Vacation Course, organised by
the University of the Witwatersrand, Johannesburg, South Africa, in
July of the current year.
In writing out my argument for publication, there are two
general remarks, I would offer, by way of introduction.
First, like most workers out of reach of well-equipped libraries,
I find myself handicapped by lack of access to the periodical litera
ture to which one would naturally turn for critical reviews of
Freud s Totem and Taboo. Hence, it is possible that my criticisms
of Freud s treatment of the taboos of the dead, have been anticipated
by others without my having been able to discover the fact. Still,
even if it be so, the undesigned coincidence of my views and theirs
will not be without value. For, such mutual corroboration of
conclusions independently arrived at, fulfils 1 in philosophy something
of the function which belongs to verification in science. The
only critical review of Freud s book which I have seen is W.
McDougall s, in Mind, N.S., Vol. XXIX, No. 115, pp. 344-350
But McDougall concentrates his attack on Freud s central thesis,
viz., the derivation of all totemism and taboo from the "Oedipus
Complex," assumed to be present unconsciously in every individual
of the human race. With this thesis I am not concerned in this
paper, because it does not enter directly into Freud s argument
about taboos of the dead. (Op. cit., Brill s transl., pp. 88-108).
The reason why I have singled out this one argument for special
examination is that it supplies a small-scale, but typical example of
certain faults of method in Freud s reasoning concerning the cus
toms and beliefs of primitive peoples. It is, I believe, a "fair
sample" of his method, and its unsoundness is representative of the
unsoundness of the bulk of the reasoning which fills the pages of
Totem and Taboo.
My second, and more important, introductory remark is this.
Seeing that my argument will be directed against Freud s psycho
analytic theory of the taboos of the dead, I want to guard myself
explicitly against the inference that, because I criticize Freud
adversely on this point, I reject his psycho-analytic theory as a
whole. This is not the place for a detailed discussion of what
242 TABOOS OF THE DEAD
I think sound and what unsound in that theory. Hence, I must
content myself with saying briefly, that, in my judgment, the im
pulse given to psychology by Freud s work will live, because he has
taught us to attend to mental facts which pre-Freudian psychology
slurred over or ignored, and to look in a fresh light at the facts
which pre-Freudian psychology did try to deal with. His theories
have infused psychology with a fresh life, by opening up new lines
of research on problems of mental health, of education, of morals.
On the other hand, the weakness of Freud s work consists, as I hope
to show, in his readiness to apply his theories ab extra to facts
which have not been dealt with, at first hand, by psycho-analytic
methods at all. In this purely speculative extension of his theories
into fields in which no verification is either attempted, or possible,
by the ordinary technique of "analysis," Freud seems to me to lay
himself open to grave objections. Just as his analysis of Leonardo
da Vinci s dream seems to me to be, not science, but merely fancy
an ingenious guessing game, played with the concepts of his own
theory so I hold that Freud s excursions into the psychology of
primitive peoples are, in method, equally speculative and equally
unscientific, because unverified and unverifiable.
But this brings me to my argument.
The first point to notice is that Freud deals with the customs
and beliefs of primitive peoples, not at first-hand, but at second
hand indeed, it would be truer to say at third-hand. For, the
authorities upon whom he relies for his facts, chiefly Frazer, and
to a less degree Wundt and Westermarck, themselves report at
second-hand the accounts of the ultimate first-hand observers
explorers, missionaries, traders, administrators, field-workers! in
anthropology, and so on.
One may well doubt, on general principles, the value of a
psychological analysis performed at two removes from the living
subject. Certainly, Freud s lack of first-hand contact with the
beliefs and customs of primitive peoples, as these are actually lived,
in the concrete context of the daily routine of tribal existence, ex
poses his conclusions to error from two sources. On the one
hand, his faith in his own theories inevitably acts as a pervasive
bias in emphasis and selection of facts from among the mass of
data offered by his authorities. He cannot help looking at the
facts through the glasses of his ready-made theories. He cannot
help picking out as significant what is significant only from the
point of view of his theories. And, on the other hand, all this
speculative combination of facts into pre-conceived patterns is un
checked at any point by any evidence deserving the name of veri
fication. Headers who know only the literature of psycho-
TABOOS OF THE DEAD 243
analysis and have no acquaintance with primitive peoples in the
flesh, so to speak, may find the argument plausible if not demon
strative. On the other hand, those who study primitive men at
first-hand, and let their theories grow out of the facts in their en
tirety, instead of forcing their theories on the facts, will readily
recognise how fanciful and wide of the mark are Freud s analogies.
For, analogy is, logically considered, the one and only instrument
by which Freud effects 1 the extension of his theories to this field.
Now, as every student of Logic knows, the demonstrative value of
analogy is nil, though, skilfully used, it may have a considerable
heuristic value. To do Freud justice, he generally begins his
speculative extensions of psycho-analytic theory with a cautious
air of putting forward merely a possible hypothesis, but every at
tentive reader will notice that, as he warms 1 to his argument, the
language of conjecture vanishes and the language of demonstration
takes its place. Before long we reach a confident : "It has been
shown ." though careful scrutiny reveals not an item
of evidence which could raise the bare possibility of the initial
hypothesis to the level of demonstrated certainty. Indeed, the
whole manner of Freud s exposition is not so much that of a scien
tific argument, as that of skilful insinuation and suggestion, such
as communicates belief in the absence of adequate logical grounds.
For, there can be no doubt that Freud throughout is convinced of the
truth of his psycho-analytic interpretation of the mentality of pri
mitive peoples, and his argument is designed to induce the same
conviction to his readers, not by the irresistible logic of the evi
dence, but by accustoming them to the psycho-analytic view, until
the familiar transmutes the plausible into the certain. I am not,
of course, accusing Freud of deliberate deception. If there is
deception, he is self-deceived. All I am saying is that his zeal
outruns his evidence, and, blunting his critical sense, leads him to
extend his theories by reasoning no longer subject to scientific
checks.
So far, I have criticised the logical character of Freud s
analogical reasoning, on grounds which hold good whatever the de
tails of that reasoning may be. Let us now look at the details
themselves. Following his authorities, Freud traces all the taboos
of the dead to the belief that the spirit of the departed is hostile,
has become an enemy of the survivors in Wundt s language, a
"demon." Hence arises the question, "What is the cause, or source
of this hostility, this malevolence?" The dead person may have
been honoured and beloved in his lifetime. What transforms him
at death into an evil spirit?" Westermarck, as quoted by Freud,
adduces a variety of hypothesis. Death is regarded by all pri-
244 TABOOS OF THE DEAD
mitive peoples as a calamity, always due to violence or witchcraft,
hence the spirits of the departed are vindictive and resentful. Alter
natively, the departed, longing for the company of those still living,
seek to draw the latter after them into the land of spirits, and, there
fore try to kill them with diseases. Yet, again, the malevolence of
spirits is a reflection of the instinctive fear of them, which is, itself,
the result of the fear of death. With so much guessing to point
the way, Freud has some excuse for thinking that a psycho-analytic
guess could not be worse, and might well he better. Might not
psycho-neurotic disturbances, by analogy, supply a clue? Such a
clue Freud finds in the "ambivalence" of emotions. In all intimate
human relationships there is apt to be emotional ambivalence, or,
more simply, a conflict of emotions. In the relations of parents
to children, of husband to wife, there may be, alongside of genuine
affection, much opposition of desires, much friction, much occasion
for self-sacrifice and self -repression. That, on occasion, one wishes
one s nearest and dearest dead is a common human experience,* and
such death-wishes, which normally never pass from imagination
into deed, may occur even in the most loving relationship. Where
this inward conflict of affection and hostility becomes extreme, it
may give rise to "obsessive self-reproaches" on the part of the
survivor. The death so obviously satisfies 1 the repressed death-
wish, that the survivor is smitten with pangs of conscience at
actual, or imaginary, failures in care and affection.
That such ambivalence of emotions is a common f human ex
perience, though it does not normally give rise to neurotic symptoms,
must be conceded at once. It enables Frued to take the first step
towards a psycho-analytic theory of taboos of the dead. "We now
know how to explain" note how the language has dropped all sug
gestions of conjecture "the supposed demonism of recently-
departed souls and the necessity of being protected against their
hostility through taboo rules. By assuming (italics mine) a simi
lar high degree of ambivalence in the emotional life of primitive
races, such as psycho-analysis ascribes to persons suffering from
compulsion neurosis, it becomes comprehensible . . . ." (Op.
cit., p. 103). By "assuming!" Not a shred of evidence is offered
by Freud, or is anywhere discoverable in the literature on which he
draws, that primitive men and women are, in fact, subject to the
high degree of emotional ambivalence which is found in certain
*When I say "experience. I mean "experience," i.e., I mean that we do not
need to search the "unconscious" to verify the occurrence of such ambivalent
attitudes. Freud argues habitually as if death-wishes were normally uncon
scious. I am sure they are frequently conscious, and consciously rejected by the
self.
tBy "common," here, I mean "frequent," not "universal."
TABOOS OF THE DEAD 245
neurotic patients. Nor is such a morbid degree of emotional
ambivalence observable among them when one definitely looks for
it in order to verify Freud s assumption.
Moreover, in the neurotic patient the intense emotional con
flict issues in obsessive self-reproaches. Xo one, as Freud admits,
has observed among primitive peoples any wholesale liability to ob
sessive self-reproaches. Negative evidence against Freud s assump
tion, you say? So an innocent might think, not knowing the
power of assumptions. Why not make a further assumption which
turns the apparently negative evidence into positive? The armoury
of psycho-analysis contains a most convenient weapon for the pur
pose in the process of projection. So convenient is it, that Freud
drops the very language of "assumption" for the categorical tones
of established fact. Primitive man s hostility against the departed,
instead of giving rise to obsessive reproaches, "experiences a differ
ent fate; the defence against it is accomplished by displacement
upon the object of hostility, namely, the dead." (p. 103). Thus,
the hostility really felt by the survivor is by him attributed to the
spirit of the departed, and justifies the taboos which the survivor
imposes on himself for protection against the evil powers of the
"demon." Yet the demon-character of the departed is nothing
but the survivor s "unconscious" hostility projected upon the dead
man s spirit. Only one further assumption not, of course,
acknowledged as such is now needed to buttress the structure of
assumptions already erected, viz., an assumption to account for the
cessation of the taboos of the dead with the end of the appointed
period of mourning. Mourning is an expression of tenderness and
sorrow; hence, while it lasts the inner conflict with latent hostility
towards the departed is acute. But "with the termination of the
period of mourning, the conflict also loses its acuteness, so that
the taboo of the dead can be abated or sink into oblivion." (ibid.,
p. 108).
It is, clearly, superfluous to urge, once more, the methodological
criticism that the whole theory is nothing but a tissue of assumptions
piled upon assumptions ; that there is no evidence in the literature
for the facts assumed, nor any attempt at verifying the theory by
actual study of primitive minds. But there are two other criti
cisms which must be pressed home in conclusion. ,
The first consists in exhibiting the arbitrary selection of facts
by which Freud lends such plausibility to his theory as it possesses.
To look merely at the taboos of the dead is to get a most frag
mentary and distorted view of the real attitude of primitive peoples
towards the spirits. The taboos must be studied in their context
of the total relationship in which primitive man believes himself
246 TABOOS OF THE DEAD
to be standing, not only towards the departed spirits of his own
family, or sib, but towards the whole spirit-world. Of the Bantu
peoples of Southern Africa, at any rate, it is simply not true to
say that their attitude towards their dead is simply one of fear,
or that the dead are to them nothing but malevolent demons. To
give a complete account of the relationship in a brief space is im
possible. But, for our present purpose, it is enough to say that
the living and the dead are conceived to be members of a single
community, and that neither can do without the other. The dead
have powers the beneficent use of which the living need in their
daily business. And the living, in turn, can do much for the
well-being of the departed. At the same time, the departed still
retain the characters which they had when alive. If they can
love, they can also hate ; if they can be good-humoured, they can also
be angry. When offended, they are vindictive, but they may be
placated by suitable offerings. Surely, there is enough here of
"ambivalence" of emotions, without having to drag in neurotic
analogies. The relationship between the living and the departed
is one in which, as in many relationships between the living them
selves, trust and affection mingle with fear and suspicion. But
any one-sided picture, such as that which Freud has extracted from
his authorities, puts the taboos in an utterly wrong perspective.
And there is, secondly and lastly, an even more weighty and
incisive criticism. Taboos are social institutions and, as such,
have social motives and social functions. This side of the matter
the most important from the point of view of the social anthropo
logist Freud completely ignores. Working his analogies both
ways, be assimilates the taboos of primitive peoples to certain
neurotic phenomena, and vice-versa, speaks of some of the practices
of neurotic patients as taboos. In either case, he treats taboos as if
they were merely phenomena of individual psychology, instead of be
ing social phenomena to be explained by social laws. The living
and the departed, we said just now, form one society which, thus,
has a visible and an invisible half. The beliefs and practices of
primitive peoples can be understood only by realising that their
chief concern is to maintain the welfare and stability of this one
society by carefully regulating the relations of different groups of
individuals in it, according to traditional behaviour-patterns. There
are critical transition-points in the life of the individual when he
passes from one social stratum to another, assuming in each case a
new status with new relationships to his fellows, new rights, new
duties. One such transition period is puberty, when, by means of
initiation ceremonies, the boy or girl is promoted to a new social
etatus. Another is marriage. A third is death the transition
TABOOS OF THE DEAD 247
from the stratum of the living to the stratum of spirits within the
society. At each such transition the new adjustment of relation
ships among the living, and between the living and the departed,
has to be brought about by the performance of prescribed rites and
the observance of prescribed taboos. The social equilibrium has
been upset. These ceremonies and restrictions have the function
to restore it. It is to this general conception, and not to fanciful
analogies between the minds of primitive men and the minds of
neurotic patients, that we must look for the true explanation of the
taboos of the dead, as well as of taboos in general.
NOTES BY THE WAY.
No. 10.
The Suggestiveness of Great Art.
The most perfect examples of unity of design in great poems outside the
drama are unquestionably the Odyssey and the Divine Comedy. And how
much of their greatness they owe precisely to that unity, as St. Paul s owes
its greatness very largely to the fact of being the work of one mind from
its first stone to its last! When so great a church as St. Paul s, and even
more when so great a poem as the Divine Comedy, stands complete as a
single creation, a whole at unity with itself in all its parts, we may almost
be said to seem to have a glimpse of the mind of the Divine Artificer, and
to hear in human music some sound of the ultimate harmony of the uni
verse. That is what all great Art is: a discovery of order in the chaos
of the world. And the order is more impressive, the harmony more con
soling and more final, in proportion to the range and variety of those ele
ments of chaos, in which it is discovered and out of which, indeed, it is
built up. That is what gives to the last words of the CEdipus Coloneus, of
Hamlet, and, in some ways above all, of the Divine Comedy, so incompar
able a power of peace. By themselves they would have no such power. It is
because they are part of a whole, because they are felt as giving us the
completion of a tremendous circle of great experiences. Art is not philo
sophy, but it often has in it philosophical suggestions. And perhaps, when
we leave CEdipus in the secret grave to which he has been so strangely
guided, or still more when, with Dante, we gaze in adoration at the Love
which moves the sun and the other stars, we have somewhere in us a dim
half-conscious sense that a life which art can fit into such wonderful order
can scarcely be the life of isolated and meaningless atoms.
From the Times Literary Supplement.
248
ECONOMIC ASPECTS OF POPULATION.
By K. C. Mills, LL.M., D.Sc., Professor of Economics, University
of Sydney.
THE problem of population is far from being merely an
economic one. It may be in the near future, as Mr. J. M. Keynes
has put it, "the greatest of all social questions a question which
will arouse some of the deepest instincts and emotions of men, and
about which feeling may run as passionately as in the earlier
struggles between religions." 1
In any such social problem, too, the aid which Economics can
give to its solution is definitely limited. It can do no more than
deal with one aspect which must not, however, be thought unim
portant. Practical questions are rarely, if ever, decided upon
purely economic grounds, because to do this would be to ignore
other important non-economic considerations. In practice these
have to be balanced one against the other and action taken in
accordance with the way in which the balance swings. Economics
is powerless to judge of the balance of social advantages and, in
deed, does not attempt it. If economic analysis were to show, for
example, that an increase in the numbers of children of a group
would lead to reduced real incomes all round, it could not deter
mine the question whether it is better to have more income or more
children. It would point out that it may not be economically
possible to have both, but it would not attempt to measure the
value of human life. Population presents distinct problems to
the biologist, to the moralist and to the economist. It may, there
fore, be convenient to approach the larger social problem by means
of one of its aspects separated for purposes of analysis, provided
that we always bear in mind that it is only one aspect.
To primitive societies the problem of population was the very
practical one of how much food there was to go round. If they
were fortunate in the possession of wide and fertile lands, they
were apt to look upon an increase in population as a good thing
because it meant more food and better defence against enemies.
If they were unfortunate enough to have a small country and large
numbers an increase in population plainly meant hunger and misery
unless they could migrate or conquer other countries. Quite fre
quently primitive societies solved their problem of population by
*Read at the Third Annual General Meeting of the Australasian Association
of Psychology and Philosophy, held at Sydney, May 21-23, 1925.
(1) Preface to Wright s "Population." (2) Economic Journal. 1910, pp.
390-1. (3) Economic Journal, June, 1924, p. 192. (4) Sir W. Beveridge, in
Economics, March, 1925, p. 15. (5) W right, "Population," p. 163.
ECONOMIC ASPECTS OF POPULATION 249
infanticide and other practices which we are accustomed to think
of as peculiarly modern. In this way they deliberately limited
their numbers.
In the 17th Century we meet with the idea in England, for
example, that there could be too many people living in the country.
It is doubtful whether this was an honest belief or whether it was
due to a desire to bring about emigration and colonization. How
ever this may be, the idea disappeared in the 18th Century, and the
general feeling in Europe was that population was a good thing,
probably because a large population could furnish soldiers for the
wars of the 18th century. "The most decisive mark of the pros
perity of any country/ wrote Adam Smith in 1776, "is the increase
of the number of its inhabitants." Towards the end of the 18th
Century a great wave of optimism swept over Western Europe.
The French Kevolution had inspired some minds and inflamed
others. Most people were hopeful of ever increasing material
progress. To add to population was acclaimed even if it meant
the making of paupers. In that happy Paradise, Malthus, as
Keynes puts it, "disclosed a Devil" the fear of over-population.
Malthusianism has come to cover a set of doctrines, some of
which have very little to do with Malthus. His "principles" have
often been discussed by those who have never read his Essay in any
of its forms.
Adam Smith has left a book," says Dr. Bonar, "which every
one praises and no one reads; Malthus a book which no one reads
and all abuse."
Briefly, his doctrine was that there was a natural tendency of
population to increase faster than the means of subsistence, but
that the tendency was kept in check by "moral restraint, vice and
misery." He attempted to prove the first part of his doctrine by
reference to the actual growth of population and to the assumed
impossibility of food keeping pace with it.
His checks were diseases, war, plague and "moral restraint."
This latter or "prudential check" came about when people followed
Punch s advice to those about to marry. His motto may be said
to be "fewer and later marriages." The propaganda which is car
ried on nowadays by advocates of birth-control would have shocked
Malthus out of his propriety. The problems of population, then,
according to Malthus, could be explained almost in terms of supply
and demand. The supply of children was always ready to in
crease whenever the demand increased. The demand was depend
ent upon the food supply. If that increased rapidly, population
increased rapidly. If that increased slowly, population increased
slowly. This is what he meant when he said "Population is ne-
250 ECONOMIC ASPECTS OF POPULATION
cessarily limited by the means of subsistence/ and "generally speak
ing population always increases where the means of subsistence in
creases." Malthus views gave a gloomy tinge to discussions of
population in the first half of the 19th Century, but, later, gloom
gave away again to optimism, and it was not until the recent war
that the Malthusian "Devil" was unchained once more.
There occurred in the 19th Century, in Western Europe, a
hitherto unprecedented increase in numbers, but, contrary to
Malthus expectations, subsistence outstripped it. It was calculated
in 1910 that if the increase of the past 25 years kept up at the
same rate we should, in 1000 years, stand shoulder to shoulder on
the earth. 2 Despite this increase, subsistence had more "than
kept pace. But the rate of increase of population has been getting
gradually slower since about 1880. For Great Britain, Professor
Bowley has recently calculated that <<r with the present rates of births,
deaths and emigration, the population would increase to 45 or 46
millions about 1941, and then diminish." 3 It is notorious
that France has reached a nearly stationary condition of population.
Indeed, in all European countries and in countries settled from
Europe, there has been a fall in human fertility, "regardless of
differences of race, climate and economic conditions." 4 It
is undoubtedly true that the main reason for this fall is the de
liberate limitation or prevention of families, practised in modern
days. It is not Malthus "moral restraint," but birth-control, due
to increased knowledge which has brought about this fall in the
birth rate. It means that we must reject Malthus simple view
that children are commodities whose supply reacts to demand, which
varies with the amount of food produced, in favour of the view
that society, having realised to some extent through Malthus
what might happen, has discovered and practised the means of pre
venting its occurrence. Malthus, as we have seen, looked at the
problem of population from the point of view of subsistence.
Modern economics looks at it rather from the point of view of
material welfare. There are other points of view. There is
that which accepts a natural increase in population as a good thing
in itself. From this point of view large numbers appeal to the
pride or vain-glory of those who make broad their census returns
and see men as figures walking. Another point of view is defence.
Those who believe that "God is on the side of the big battalions,"
and that -war is the recurrent fate of humanity, welcome an in
crease in population for its own sake. Demands for war and pre
parations for war lead to a demand for an increase in the supply
of cannon fodder. The problem for Economics, however, is
whether an increase or decrease in population is likely to make
ECONOMIC ASPECTS OF POPULATION 251
each one better off materially than before. What we have to con
sider, too, is not so much aggregate material welfare, as average
material welfare. Economics would say that a nation of two mil
lion people, with an average income of 150 per year, was better
off materially than a nation of five millions 1 , with an average income
of 100 per year. But if anyone says that in the latter case there
are three million more souls to be saved and a greater aggregate
happiness we cannot say that he is wrong, but only that that view is
not economic. Economically speaking, the optimum number of
people for any country, or for the world as a whole, will be the
number which will produce the greatest average material welfare.
For any group average material welfare will depend broadly upon
the amount and kind of output per head of goods and services,
and the way in which that amount is distributed amongst the mem
bers of that group. We may, for purposes of this discussion, ignore
questions of distribution, although they are important in the pro
blem of population, and concentrate upon questions of production.
The problem of population then becomes one of the relation between
the quantity and quality of human beings, and the supply of the
material requisites of well-being produced by them. Average
material welfare will depend, first, upon the quantity of people
in relation to the resources at their disposal this is for the world
as a whole, or for a smaller group. Perhaps it would be more
convenient to consider the problem of a group. Upon such factors
as the group s original and acquired qualities of mind and body,
their knowledge, invention, work, judgment and organisation will
depend their output per head. In so far as increase in numbers
improves these, so will output tend to improve. On the other hand,
the output depends upon the material environment of the group.
Since this is more or less fixed there is at any given time a maxi
mum point of return, and on either side of this the return to the
efforts of the group will be less.
The point should be clear if we consider the production of
food from a limited area of land. Every farmer knows that he
cannot go on indefinitely applying more and more labour and
capital to a given piece of land, and expect to get increased pro
portional returns. The point of maximum return, however, is not
fixed and may be altered by improvements, inventions, fresh know
ledge, which make the material environment of the group capable of
giving a greater return. So we have two opposing principles.
On the one hand the growth of knowledge, and on the other the
tendency for more people to mean less proportional return from the
material environment of the group. Some tentative conclusions
may be suggested. In most countries, at the present time, the
252 ECONOMIC ASPECTS OF POPULATION
average material welfare would probably be greater if the popula
tion were smaller. At any rate, we may be safe in saying that in
most countries, with the possible exception of Australia, average
material welfare would not be increased in consequence of an in
crease in population. This is the statics of the problem. Dynami
cally the question is whether average material welfare is rising
faster than if population were growing more slowly. Always
bearing in mind the possibility of scientific discovery, such as Pro
fessor Soddy describes in his "Science and Life," or Mr. J. B. S.
Haldane in "Daedalus," it would appear that in the immediate
future most countries would gain in material welfare by a reduction
in the growth of population. Human society, at least, in Western
Europe, appears to have recognised this and to have taken into its
own hands the control over numbers. In so far as this is done, the
quantitative problem of population approaches a solution.
But so far we have said little of the quality of the people
of the group. This 1 is a question which we must not leave to the
biologist and the eugenist. Average material welfare will depend
upon not only the quantity of people in relation to the resources
at their disposal, but also upon their quality. If they are healthy,
capable and intelligent their average material welfare is likely to
be greater than if they are unhealthy, incapable and unintelligent,
because they will then make the best use of their resources. What
kind of people there will be in a group depends upon their heredity
and their environment. The modern tendency amongst eugenists
is to emphasise the importance of stock as against environment.
A fear commonly expressed is that the decline in the birth rate,
which we have noticed above, will be socially bad for a community
because the decline is greater amongst the upper classes of society
than amongst the lower. If it be true that the less capable, less
healthy and less intelligent people are increasing faster than the
capable, healthy and intelligent, then, from the economic point of
view, average material welfare is likely to decrease. It is true
that there is a dfferential birthrate as between the worse-off and
better-off people in most civilised societies. If we arrange people
in groups, according to the size of their income, we find generally
fewest births per 1000 amongst the richest and most amongst the
poorest. It is true that infantile mortality is heavier amongst the
poorest, but, even allowing for this, the size of families tends to
increase as incomes decrease. Further, it is alleged that there is
such freedom nowadays in social stratification that anyone with
ability tends to rise in his social class and those without it to fall,
so that the upper classes are constantly "skimming off the cream"
of the lower, and making them less fertile.
ECONOMIC ASPECTS OF POPULATION 253
Eugenists believe (and deplore) that ability is concentrated
in the upper ranks of society, and they maintain that this is mt
a mere snobbish belief. But their argument is based upon the
assumption that wealth and quality go closely together, that an
"inferior stock" may be judged by the test of wealth and social posi
tion. They may yet get enough evidence for this, but at present
it is far from being proved. That it may be difficult to prove
is clear to any economist who has considered inequalities of oppor
tunity and the effects of inherited wealth. Even if there were
equality of opportunity, success in acquiring wealth and social posi
tion would be no final test of social worth. As to practical eugenic
action, we are not likely to get much agreement as to what con
stitutes "good stock," though we may come nearer to agreement
as to bad stock." These are obviously matters which we cannot
leave to the biologist. Once again the practical question is to be
decided by a balance of social advantages. On the one hand,
there is the obvious economic and social advantage to society in
the absence of certain forms of disease and mental deficiency. On
the other hand, there may be the definite loss of freedom of oppor
tunity for individual development.
In any case, while waiting for Biology to advance our know
ledge of heredity, and while refusing to allow self-constituted judges
to choose who shall be the mothers and the fathers of the next
generation, we must not overlook environment. "The bluest
blood," says a recent writer, "may be poisoned by the diseases bred
in slums, and the noblest intellect may be obscured by misuse in
early life." 5 Professor Pigou reminds us that "Environments,
as well as people, have children." To study heredity and its prob
lems does not, then, absolve us from attempting to deal with the
problem of how to improve environment.
(1) Preface to Wright s "opulation."
(2) Economic Journal, 1910, pp. 390-1.
(3) Economic Journal, June, 1924, p. 192.
(4) Sir W. Beveridge, in Economica, March, 1925, p. 15.
(5) Wright, "Population," p. 163.
254
TROELTSCH S PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY.*
By Kenneth T. Henderson, M.A. (Melb.), B.Litt. (Oxon).
Troeltsch is the great prophet of the doctrine of Historical
Individuality. No standard can be set up for the judgment of
person, movement or epoch which does not arise immediately in
response to a careful, fully sympathetic effort to penetrate the
whole complex activity of the range of life under discussion. The
ideal or standard for that person, movement or epoch will emerge
as an answer to such effort. It can never be formed by the appli
cation of general principles from above to the facts. Each move
ment in history must be regarded as an Historical Individual. The
special significance of that Historical Individual must not be con
ceived of simply as a contribution to one far-off divine event, or in
relation to one all-embracing principle. There may be such,
but its unity cannot be so defined as to yield standards of universal
application. These units of historical energy have their own
tasks, they rise out of the great flow of history, not as links in a
sequence, but as spontaneous efforts, having a character all their
own. They must be judged always from within. They have
standards and ideals which are especially and peculiarly their own
by virtue of the fact that they arise out of their own individual and
peculiar psychological content, which is itself life s answer to some
historical situation. In the case of a period other than our own,
or a sphere of life alien from us, it is only by a "prejudiceless sink
ing into the facts" that such standards and ideals may be recovered.
Then, and not till then, we may try these alien movements by our
own standards, and judge them as contributions to our own ideals
and achievements.
Yet, though Troeltsch denies that the validity of their ends may
be universalised, and affirms that differences and even inconsistencies
in the values they strive after do not make one right and the
other wrong, he will not have us refuse these values and standards
of the world to which we actually belong, either as guidance of
thought or action. Because a standard of conduct is relative,
it is none the less valid.
He believes that for us in nation, state, church, family, or as
private individuals there are certain ideals which we must inevitably
recognise for ourselves as valid when we meet them at work within
their special spheres, and within the limits of the concrete world of
action in which they are working, and so far as we make ourselves
in spirit members of that world their authority is our answer to its
*Historismus und seine Probleme. (Mohr. Tubingen. 1922).
TROELTSCH S PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY 255
problems. The fact that we see other civilisations moved by
different ideals, and admit that these must not be condemned by our
own does not make those foreign ideals equally right for us, nor
justify us in refusing the values of our own civilisation for those
of other cultures. We are not justified in rejecting the ideals of
the West for those of the East, for instance. These latter have
been conditioned by climate, and all kinds of factors which have no
thing to do with us. The philosophy of life which values indi
viduality, the life of faith and hope, the creed that attaches import
ance to action and creation these things are of the West, they are
valid for us. Within the lines of our life they are superior to the
values of the East. In fact, Troeltsch goes so far as to say that
in virtue of these special excellences, the philosophy of the West
is absolutely better than that of the East. Any attempt on the
part of a Westerner to deny such superiority cannot spring from
an attitude morally sincere.
"But the recourse to the East, whose metaphysical depth may well sur
pass in many respects the European character, is always, as far as we are
concerned, a mere trifling and a passing resentment." "Once and for all
we are the race which is active, which thinks historically and believes in
the significance of Individuality. Our whole nature is thus fulfilled and
expressed, and we should surrender and lose ourselves if we were to shut
ourselves up within the Orient and its forms of life which have acquired
their character from the tropical climate. We may learn from the imper
turbability and emotional security of their religious life, and in that respect
achieve contact with it. But its undervaluation of the principle of indi
viduality in history, and (its lack of appreciattion of) the defined end is
for us at all events its weakness, as the care for these things is the source
of all the life of the temperate zones." (Historismus und seine Probleme, p.
165). "But it is not along the lines of these assertions that we shall find the
unity and universality of perception. History and individuality are strong
enough to hinder us as far as these are concerned." (Ibid).
The rejection of these Eastern values must come, Troeltsch
holds, not on the ground that they contravene any universal prin
ciple, but from "an energetic life-will that does not allow itself to be
thought to bits, and for its own sake cannot refuse the conscious
ness of significance in the changes of the historic process, and
must interpret this significance by reference to the ethical convic
tion that it is a task set to it by the moral consciousness to believe
in meaning and purpose, and ever to seek its content afresh." (Ibid,
p. 165).
This touches the heart of Troeltsch s philosophy. His rejection
of all universal theories of ethic does not arise out of an indifferent
T)roadmindedness." All moral affirmatives for him are primarily
creative affirmatives of the will. And it is Historical Individuals
these units of energy and effort which make these affirmations,
which have no existence apart from the Individuals by which they
are made.
256 TROELTSCH S PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY
Troeltsch s difficulties about the universality of moral judg
ment arise out of his historical research. He rejects every monistic
interpretation of history. He is profoundly convinced of the
futility of judging one period by the standards arrived at by general
ising from history at large. Each historical movement rises to
deliver judgment upon, and contribute its message to its time, and
each of such developments, arising spontaneously out of history,
must be allowed a special character of its own.
There are two sets of values we may apply to historical periods
or movements. We may judge a period, he thinks, according to
its achievement of its own aims and standards, or we may judge
its ideals by the ideals of the present. We must be quite clear as
to which standard we are using.
But though he objects to any attempts at historical valuations
by simple general formulae, and insists on his historical category
of Individuality, he does not question the authority of the values
asserted by these historical movements. The passage quoted above
proceeds :
"The no (the refusal of the energetic life-will to allow itself to be
thought to bits ) can moreover support and strengthen itself scientifically
by the fact that all attempts at a ready naturalistic evolutionary theory
which resolves into illusions or reflexes deducible solely from psychological
processes the ideals which, in history spontaneously and by force of inner
certainty force their way to the surface all these attempts abdicate when
it comes to any really concrete elucidation or deduction."
"The generation of ever-new standards and ideals is a fundamental
fact of the spiritual life. These ideals, arising out of the independent and
autonomous region of the reason, initiate from the given situation, which,
however, they transform and direct by a secret creative energy of the
spirit. Only where will and belief grow lame, does this force also hesitate,
and simply let itself go in the stream of the present."
"Then thought displays all standards of the Should Be as reflexes of
the actual, boasts its own present condition as knowledge free from il
lusion and possessed of all enlightenment, and re-constructs the past as a
romantic age of illusion."
"But the fault indeed lies rather in such a Present, in the misinterpre
tation of the whole region of reason, of spontaneous, autonomous, and
never-resting creation of standards of the Ought. Therefore we cannot
and must not reject these standards themselves. But we must reject every
feature of them which is inconsistent with the individual character of all
true historical creation, and with the particularity of what is produced
for contemporary circumstance. (Inconsistent with the historical character
of these standards) are their universality, their timelessness, their absolute
ness, and their abstraction, their simple identification with reason itself or
with the divine character of the order of the world."
"Spontaneity; a priority; self-evidence without timelessness universality
and absoluteness; that is the only possible formula. It means at the same
time that such standards, as individual constructions must, for each great
situation taken in its entirety, be built up and established anew." (His-
torismus pp. 165-166).
Here again we think that Troeltsch, while emphasising rightly
the historical and psychological particularity of each judgment
TROELTSCH S PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY 257
the facts which occasion, shape and enlighten it has overlooked
the one essential nature of a moral judgment which whether in
history or the life of the individual is an attempt to rise above
the flow of particular events, and apply to these a plan, in ideal re
presenting universal principles, expressed in terms of those facts
transformed. The motives and ideals thus expressing themselves,
however dim their comprehension of themselves and mixed with
misunderstanding, however limited to the particular range of facts
their orientation, yet claim to control and alter those facts by virtue
of their claim to represent the nature of this eternal order. The
ideal response to the historical situation claims to enshrine a com
prehension of it. A concrete historical judgment cannot be trans
ferred from one situation to another in history because the external
circumstances which it pre-supposes or in which it is expressed can
not be repeated, much less the intimate psychological atmosphere,
the facts of feeling and outlook and stage of knowledge pre
supposed; which are by far the most relevant of the environing
facts. But its claim to validity is a claim to represent an eternal
order in a special context.
Troeltsch s contention that such individuality should be recog
nised is useful in that it draws attention to the pyschological nature
of the judgment of value, considered as an historic fact. We are
brought to realise the relevance of the whole concrete setting as
constituting the grounds of the judgment s intelligibility, the re
levance of such judgment to a special stage of moral development,
the intimate connection between an age s characteristic moral judg
ment and values and its special problems. In reaching a general
moral valuation of a period, we must further recognise the opera
tion of the psychological principle of limitation of attention, which
seems to warrant us judging the worth of a period by its faithful
ness to a few related commanding and outstanding moral ideals
related to the problems of the contemporary situation, rather than
by the completeness with which its life embraced the full gamut
of spiritual values.
Thus we may admit that the historical needs of certain periods
one period s need for unity and tranquillity, and another s hunger
for knowledge, and another s for religion may make certain de
mands upon the universe, may choose out certain ideals and clothe
them with the form of educational policies, political theories, social
customs. Further, the constructive work of one period will differ
very greatly from that of another, for its particular ends will re
flect these special needs. But we would urge that these moral
constructions , however characteristic of their period, and different
from each other, possess an inner consistency with each other which
258 TROELTSCirS PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY
seeme to represent a core of eternal, absolute and universal signi
ficance.
Troeltsch refuses to psychology the right to deny the validity of
moral judgments by resolving them merely into an account of
their psychological characteristics. He would not deny the useful
ness of such knowledge of the process of moral judgment that psycho
logy can give. Increased knowledge of the factors gives to the rea
son increased control over the factors.
But surely in precisely the same way, and for the same reasons
we may refuse to resolve the absoluteness of values into the various
forms which they take in response to historic needs. For the in
creased understanding of these historic factors we must be grateful.
History as well as psychology has much to tell us of the processes
of moral judgment, adds to our power of testing their moral quality,
and of releasing them from historical limitations. But we must re
fuse to history as to psychology the power to break absolute moral
values into occasional and purely individual judgments, and for
the same reason the witness of the judgment itself. Inherent in
every moral judgment is a claim to discern the demands of an abso
lute and eternal order upon a concrete historical situation.
Our standards, Troeltsch thinks, arise in answer to our immedi
ate needs, and are constructed by a critical selection out of the re
sources of our civilisation. These materials include not only the
movements which occupy the public eye, but those which have been
pushed into the background. Historical values act dynamically
upon one another. Every now and again there comes a time of up
heaval. One civilisation comes into contact with another, and is
disturbed by its standards as the East by the West, or there arises
a need for re-consideration of old values and habits which shakes
up the whole content of that civilisation, cleanses it, purifies it,
strengthens it against internal dangers such as failures to emphasise
what is morally necessary to it, and finally leaves it strengthened
against attack. But it has been transformed. The values which
rule it, the characteristic aims which absorb it are different.
New aims have emerged, and those are accepted if they are con
gruent in spirit with what has gone before, if they mark a carrying
forward and deepening of that civilisation s life. Thus Christianity
accepted much of the thought of late antiquity. There are to some
extent the same elements in the new civilisation as in that out of
which it has developed.
"In all this, however, these upheavals create not only a new synthesis
of the material already there, but in the new synthesis itself there remains
hidden something which before was not there at all, which proceeds from
the old yet means a new depth of life. It is an a priori in the sense that
it is a spontaneous creation, in so far as the new really breaks forth out of
TROELTSCH S PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY 259
inward depths, and only makes itself believed through its inner certainty
and the might with which it determines the will. But it is no creation out
of nothing, and no construction out of abstract reason, but a rebuilding,
and a progressive development, which is at the same time the breathing in
of a new soul and a new spirit. The last secret of these processes is the
belief in the contemporary reason, which is revealed in them as their
dynamic, and in the power of the will to affirm such a belief." (Historis-
mus, p. 167).
These times of transformation are the ages of faith, ages in which
the human spirit trusts its positive and creative energy. These are the
ages of achievement. Their work is distinguished from "purely subjective
irruptions and violent cataclysms by its truly historical character in that
it arises out of a deep and sympathetic insight into the nature of its heri
tage, and what it requires for its fulfilment, and secondly by the certainty
that it is grasping an inner development of evolution, a life movement
of the universe or the Godhead. Herein we find the reason why religion
plays such a great part in these transformations of civilisation, for this
conviction that what is being wrought represents an essential reality which
is claiming, through historic need, to be made actual is the whole secret of
that which the theologians call revelation. It is an interpenetration of the
movements of the Divine Being which no one can construct a priori, or
rationalise a posteriori, which on the other hand breaks forth at a given
point with a feeling of compelling necessity and clearness. In such a way
there grow up in the prophet, the political genius, the style of the artist,
the intuition of the great historian, the systematic thought of the true
philosopher, the significance of the present and of the future."
"This inner meaning need not always be interpreted in terms of great
men. It need not be a Carlyean hero-cult. The yearnings, the thoughts
and the critical opinions of the masses are a preliminary necessity for the
production of all Heroes." (Ibid. p. 168).
Troeltsch believes that the prophetic function of the historian
is essential for this process of creating the values of civilisation. His
work is the means whereby a civilisation achieves self-consciousness
and learns to know itself. Generally he must explain to it how it
came into being, but his work does not end there. He must give his
own time, historical insight, inner sympathetic understanding of its
own aspirations and ideals. This he does in part by showing the
present as the living past. All great historical work, with whatever
period it deals, must to his mind be dealing with the present also.
Here is applicable his double system of historic values. An
age must be judged according to its own standards and ideals, and
then as it contributes to the ideals, and ruling motives of the
present.
Eanke is Troeltschs typical prophet-historian. One wonders
what Troeltsch would have said of our popular English habit of
looking to the novelist for these functions of the historical seer.
Perhaps the answer is contained in the approval he gives to Goethe s
saying that the man who cannot give an account of himself for three
thousand years may live from day to day in darkness and inexperi
ence. The historian must be the prophet, in that it is for him to
bring his insight into the past to the interpretation of the present.
260 TROELTSCIFS PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY
But such thinkers must be historians on a large scale. The im
portance of the research student is that he "devils" for such men.
History then, in the full greatness of its prophetic function,
has an essential service to perform for the world to-day, giving to it
the power of understanding, judging and developing itself.
"Its knowledge of men and of the world, its fine feeling for the crises
and possibilities, its sense of remoteness from the past and from alien civili
sations, its discovery of revivifying forces is more important in the modern
spiritual household of peoples than the abstract work of all scientific ethics
put together, which has significance only so long as it rationalises the ruling
energies of life." (Historismus, p. 171).
The meaning of this last statement about the nature of formal
ethic will appear later.
The radius of historical judgment is in Troeltsch s view the
radius of possible sympathy, which he thinks is from about two to
five hundred years. From within this 1 period we can bring our
selves into sufficiently intimate contact with historical movements
for they are still in some measure with us to accept from them in
spiration, warning and advice. When they are thus near we can
enter into them sufficiently fully to judge them by their own stand
ards, and to appreciate their movements and ideals as contributions
to those which incorporate our own energies.
Such judgments of "alien totalities" must always be carried out
by means of this double standard. First we must judge them from
the inside by an "immanent critique," judge them by their faith
fulness to their own ideals, including in our evidence as to their
nature the story of their consequences, for in these another kind of
witness as to their inner content will be found. Our second mode
of judgment will be in reference to our own standards, and the con
tribution of their ideals and strivings to the achievements and
standards of the present will here have to be considered.
In making such judgments and comparisons, Troeltsch admits
that we are compelled to make use of general notions which are
formal in character and remote from the world of fact, but for him
these general notions are forms which fill themselves up with special
and peculiar content derived from the situation which the judging
process has been penetrating. General terms such as wisdom,
probity, strength, represent different points of view a series of
points of view different throughout the historic process. He ignores,
we feel, the inner identity which persists through the diversity
of their manifestations.
Only by this process of comparison can we understand either
our own period or that of the past, because it alone gives detachment
and supplies us with "measuring rods." Moreover we gain from
this process more than understanding. "Through it we judge the
TROELTSCH S PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY 261
foreign world, not only by its own, but also by our standards, and
from comparison of these two developments, there arises finally a
new movement of its own." (Ibid. p. 172).
Alien and past civilisations appear to pass judgments upon us
when we allow ourselves to come close to them, and reveal to us
values which we have developed very feebly or not at all.
Thus they set up movements within the ideals of the present,
in our appreciation of our standards they awaken a sense of incom
pleteness, and call into being movements of new kinds to fulfil what
they revealed as lacking. Such comparisons awaken in us divine
discontent by their concrete appeal to the imagination, and by their
suggestion that our civilisation can do what others can.
In our judgments we tend to arrange the civilisations 1 we know
in a series according to their worth and degree of development. We
judge them by what they achieved and what they strove for. But
whence come these standards by which we judge ? As Troeltsch points
out they arise in us with a ecrtain inevitability and spontaneity,
when we find ourselves confronted with the facts. The will accepts
and affirms them, sometimes it may reject, but even when it rejects
it is dealing with a spontaneous judgment that has arisen. This
spontaneous activity of judgment cannot, he thinks, be deduced
from anything else. Such judgments take the form of perceiving
certain unifying values making their way through historical events,
and linking one age in its meaning to another. But Troeltsch never
allows his thought to approach a point where it might bring com
fort to his sworn foes, the "monistic" historians who attempt to
interpret the whole course of history by a single formula without
hastily re-asserting his own precious doctrine of Individuality. This
he does in the special problem we are studying in two forms, only
one of which concerns us at the moment. He assumes that moral
judgments as to the comparative value of different civilisations are
explicit in the verdict of historians. He points out, first of all,
that these connecting value judgments will differ in the work of dif
ferent historians. But this does not mean that they are purely sub
jective and eccentric. If the enquiry be thorough and unprejudiced,
and sympathy and research both wide and deep, there will be a cer
tain inevitability about each answering judgment, and though dis
tinct they may each possess a certain validity, and be genuine per
ceptions of some meaning and ideal struggling through the facts.
But such value judgments, though, as he believes, they can claim
an a priori and objective character cannot claim universality and
timelessness but only a validity in relation to the special interests
of the historian. These represent the vital points of contact be
tween his civilisation, and the one he is examining. For the sub-
262 TROELTSCH S PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY
stantiation of their claim to validity, Troeltsch relies on the tho
roughness of the research, the intimacy of historic sympathy, the
spontaneity with which the judgment rises, and its power of actually
interpreting the situation. He bases his final faith in the soundness
of these value judgments on no formal ethical theory, but on a
metaphysical conviction of a fundamental connection of thought
and things in God, a relation "which nevertheless admits of the
possibility of error and sins."
His account of the original process out of which the values are
formed is simple. It is the Divine Spirit in man, he thinks, which
is at work in each age in the creation of its ideals, and in the case of
the sincere attempts of the great historian to penetrate with accur
ate research, deep sympathy, clear vision, into the life of the past,
his judgments of value are instances of the "Spirit witnessing with
our spirit." The seer discerns the working of the spirit, because of
its presence in himself. This is the meaning of the "inner force and
compulsion of the understanding" which constitutes for him the
ground of the a priority and objectivity of such value judgments in
the building up of which he believes that the significance of history
consisis. To discern these connecting links of meaning is its
essential task. Such links are not in his mind causal in the narrow
meaning of the term. They are ideological. But his principle of
Individuality has here its second safeguard.
These connecting value judgments are not unifying principles
running through the universe. They cannot be carried back in an
infinite regress. They must not be carried back beyond the limits
of our historically intimate sympathy and understanding, which,
as we have seen, he considers to be from two to five hundred years.
This is somewhat arbitrary. One epoch may be comparatively re
mote from another in feeling and aspiration though they are close
in time, and acting on a feeling of essential kinship we may, by
energetic scholarship, bring an era comparatively distant in time
close in understanding. What Troeltsch has in mind doubtless is
that historical sympathy can only move through a sense of the con
tinuity of movements of thought and life, one period thus finding
itself in another. But the time limitation is misleading. There is
perhaps more inner connection between the democracy of Athens
and the present day than that between the present age and that of
the Wars of the Roses. TrooHsrh would not of course press for any
literal interpretation of his figures, but essential kinship between
different eras rtoos -pof PPPTTI to have much to do with time.
Though these judgments are, in his view, the perceptions of
the operations of the Divine Spirit in human creative energy, which
the judging mind realises with an inevitability due to its essential
TROELTSCH S PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY 263
kinship, yet he thinks such standards do not reveal the whole nature
of such a unity of Spirit. They are successive, and comparatively
disconnected intuitions. "God is present to every age in its essential
ideals/ but present always within the limits of the concrete situ
ation according to Troeltsch. He thinks that doubtless there is
a Divine unity of value and meaning, but it lies deep down out of
sight.
Nothing can take away from these value judgments their char
acter as ventures of faith. There is always "something of daring
and of doing" about such attempts. Further, they must be con
tinually renewed. The judgments and estimates of a particular
crisis must never be transferred to another, but must be constructed
afresh. Each crisis is a new combination of circumstances and
ideas which must be penetrated anew. It needs the light of new
comparisons, a fresh sympathetic verdict arising out of this full
interpretation. A verdict upon it can never be attained by the
attempt to apply general notions from above, or to measure an his
torical development in accordance with the situation s conformity or
departure from these ideas. A value judgment is not merely one
upon the facts. It must include within it the inner apprehension
of the facts.
These general ideas are, as we have seen, for Troeltsch only
"shells" to be filled by the characteristic tendencies of the life of
the Spirit working within the conditions of any epoch. We be
lieve that they are rather more than this. It is true that historical
judgments must be continually renewed, yet we believe the fact that
certain constant terms suggest themselves as inevitable, when it
comes to formulating these verdicts, indicates a greater degree of
consistency between the values and ideals of one period and an
other than Troeltsch is prepared to allow. We think, too that even
in the short human historical tradition we can become more fully
aware of the inner consistency of the Divine Life so far as we can
enter into relation with it than Troeltsch admits. But his work is
important, if only for the re-assertion of the neglected principle of
historical individuality with its veto on any attempt to judge or
understand historical epochs by the facile application of universal
principles.
We agree too with his rejection of all attempts to derive his
torical value judgments from any single formula as to the meaning
of history. They must be peculiar to the special intimate inner
character of the situation out of which they ari?e. They are the
Spirit witnessing with our spirit as it attempts to understand and
realise the significance of the historical problem.
264 TROELTSCH S PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY
Thus Troeltsch rejects one theory after another, Kantian, Neo-
Kantian, Utilitarian, simply because they do not, as a matter of fact,
represent the way in which these inevitable value judgments and
ideals form themselves and function in history. Of Hegel s philo
sophy he retains the emphasis on the essential activity of the Spirit,
and man s knowledge of it through kinship with it, but he breaks
up its unity and continuity, which Hegel stressed, into a series of
historic movements the individuality of each of which no general
formula can include.
Values are attained when historical movements which have al
ways some unit of energy, whether a person, institution, movement
in the narrow sense, reach this Divine Life in their aims. Ideals are
the meeting places. But while values are always relative to the Indi
vidual in the concrete situation, they are not to be confused there
fore with expediencies and utilities. Within their limits they con
stitute the answer of God.
NOTES BY THE WAY.
No. 11.
Logos and Mythos.
In the history of philosophy and poetry, as of religion, Logos and
Mythos, two divine children, have never ceased to take part. Sometimes
their encounter has been internecine conflict, sometimes intimate embrace.
The Plato of the Socratic dialetic and the Plato of the Symposium were
not of the same mind about them, and when Logos had built up his ideal
polity he finally called in Mythos to shadow forth truths which Logos could
not reach. On the other side, poetry, beginning in vision and passion, has
continually sought the support of reason, and presented itself as the sym
bolic allegorical venture of truth in a Divine Comedy, or a Faery Queene;
just as religion has habitually sought the support of a divine Logos, a
"Theology," for its spontaneous pieties and sacred legends. But sometimes
their relation has been less friendly. The medieval mystic who repudiated
the pretensions of reason, secure in his inner vision; the great Humanist
philosopher, who, with an equal passion for truth, thought to reach it only
by a reason cleared and isolated from all the illusions of imagination and
sense, were partisans on opposite sides in the same conflict. In the anti-
intellectualist movement of the last half-century philosophy herself has de
rided her own tried tools, and Bergsonian and Crocean intuition and "creat
ive evolution" have been rapturously hailed by the spiritual great-grand
children of the mystics, poets, and imaginative persons at large, who shared
or echoed the anti-Cartesian reaction of two centuries ago. The interven
ing period had certainly witnessed a chariot-flight of triumphant Logos
more magnificent and more all-daring than had been seen since Plato. Yet
Hegel s thought not only had room for poetry, but in a sense involved it
.... Dr. Bradley has pointed out how in the age of Woodsworth and
Coleridge, Hegel and Fichte, English poetry and German philosophy worked
with the same sublime faith in the potency of the mind of man. If Words
worth condemned the "meddling intellect," he could yet declare Imagina
tion to be but another name for "Reason in her most exalted mood." And
Goethe said of himself: "My intuition is itself a thinking, and my thinking
intuition."
C. H. Herford, in the Hibbert Journal.
265
CHANGES IN CHRISTIAN THOUGHT. *
(Le nuove correnti del Cristianesimo)
By Professor Vittorio Macchioro, Royal University of Naples.
I.
1. Christianity, in its earliest stage, had neither the desire nor
the capacity for "speculation." It was not, nor did it seek to be a
philosophy. It was an immediate experience of God. It even denied
the value of knowledge, and promised the Kingdom of Heaven to
those who became again as little children. It proclaimed that man
blessed who believed without having seen, in contrast with the
teaching of Socrates, who placed the supreme virtue in knowledge.
All the mighty efforts of a Plato or an Aristotle to discover the
origin of knowledge, and establish its validity, seemed to come to
naught before this claim to build life, not on a theory, but on a
person, and to possess truth, not through an idea, but in and
through a man. Such ingenuous suppression of reason could not
long endure. Speculation became a necessity. The Christ problem
itself, as 1 it arose out of primitive Christian experience, required a
solution, and this solution could not be found for the second and
third generation of Christians, in a direct and personal experience.
This was impossible to those who had not known Jesus in the flesh,
and who could only interpret the experience of others, who, more
fortunate, had been freed from the necessity for speculation by the
living presence and inspiration of Jesus himself. It now became
necessary for the Christian to think, and to provide some rational
account to himself and others, of what Christ was and had been.
There thus arose the Christology of the post-apostolic age. Further,
out of the need to determine the nature of the Redeemer, there arose
a second necessity, namely to determine the nature of the work of
salvation. For, on the nature of the Christ depended man s rela
tion to Christ. It thus became necessary for Christianity to investi
gate the nature and destiny of man. In short, Christianity had to
become philosophy.
But while the task of speculation thus became a necessity for
Christianity, there was lacking the instrument of speculation, a
theory, a doctrine, or school of doctrine. Primitive Christian faith
was not a theory, but a concrete reality. Since every Christian felt
it as a reality, to reason about it would have seemed alike useless
and illogical, hence the speculative incapacity of Christianity in
its earliest stage.
2. Christianity, however, had to construct a philosophy for it
self if it was not to remain permanently as a state of pure emotion,
"Translation by the Editor.
266 CHANGES IN CHRISTIAN THOUGHT
or mystic fervour. The Christian faith, when it issued from Judea,
came into contact with a mentality accustomed for centuries to
philosophic effort, skilled in the task of investigating the value of
ideas. From this contact of Christian faith with Greek specula
tion there came into being a new Christianity, in which the data of
immediate experience were arranged within rational schemes. Paul
is the most conspicuous example of this new advance, which, in
time, i?sued in Patristics the teaching of the Fathers. To philoso
phise became a necessity for the Christian Fathers. To Clement
of Alexandria, Greek philosophy is a providential preparation for
Christianity. According to Clement there is no essential difference
between religion and philosophy, since that which is object of faith
must also be object of knowledge. To philosophise and to be a
Christian is the same thing. But the Christianity of higher spirits,
which is not the same as the naive, unconscious Christianity of the
common people, is reached only through Greek philosophy in par
ticular, the Platonic philosophy. Tertullian, who regarded philo
sophy as the work of the devil, to be resisted by the barrier of the
popular faith, is in comparison with Clement, a man of a bygone
age. Clement is the modern man, who scorns the fear which is
based on ignorance, and has no respect for the faith which is
superior to culture.
Yet Hellenic Christianity did not contain the germ from
which a true and proper philosophy of religion might develop.
Such a philosophy can arise only from a free investigation by
reason of the data of religious experience, whereas, according to
the Fathers, the task of philosophy was not to examine the content
of the religious consciousness, but to confirm the Christian faith,
which is really a particular historical form of the religious con
sciousness This was the attitude of Clement and of the other
Greek Fathers. They recognised only one true religion, true a
priori, above and beyond every philosophy. Greek philosophy,
which had served as the preparation for the coming of Christianity,
must also serve to demonstrate the truth of Christianity.
St. Augustine s thought contains much that may serve as
foundation for a true philosophy of religion the reality of the
thinking self, the correspondence between our representations and
the divine ideas as ground of the validity of the former, the neces
sity of actual adhesion to the truth if we are to apprehend the
truth all this contains in germ the possibility of a true philosophy
of religion. And yet, for Augustine, as for the other Fathers, the
function of philosophy is purely apologetic. The philosopher who
warns us that we cannot issue from ourselves, and that truth is
to be found within, yet places the criterion for differentiating be-
CHANGES IN CHRISTIAN THOUGHT 267
tween truth and error in a faith historically constituted, that is, in
something that is external to man whereas philosophy seeks to find
it in the laws of the human spirit.
3. Scholasticism tended to identify philosophy and religion.
It would, perhaps, be more accurate to say that philosophy, in early
stages of scholasticism mainly Platonic, and afterwards mainly
Aristotelian, was subordinated to philosophy. Eeligion furnished
philosophy with its data, which were accepted a priori, while the
freedom of philosophy was strictly limited to the rational justifica
tion of the data thus provided. Anselm gave a perfect definition
of the spirit of Scholasticism when he said that right order re
quires us to believe profoundly the Christian faith before we pre
sume to discuss it rationally," but that it would be negligence on
our part, if after we had been confirmed in the faith, we did not
strive to comprehend what we believed. Philosophy thus had,
during the Middle Ages, no true life of its own. Its problems
were not determined by the needs of the spirit, but by the demands
of theology. In fact, all the great problems of Scholasticism arose
out of the debates concerning particular Catholic doctrines. The
problem of human liberty and its relations with divine providence
and justice arose out of the controversy on predestination initiated
by Gottschalk. The discussion as to the notions of substance and
accident arose out of the controversy as to the real presence of
Christ in the Eucharist, initiated by Berengarius of Tours. The
discussion on the concepts, nature, individual, and person were the
outcome of disputations by Roscellinus and others as to the nature
of the Trinity. Philosophy became the means or instrument for de
monstrating the truth of dogmas. It was not, properly speaking,
philosophy at all, but rather one side of religion, a particular aspect
of Christianity. Scholastic philosophy suffered continually from
the immanent contradiction between what it actually was, and what
it professed or sought to be. It was troubled and torn between the
necessity of rationalising dogma from the philosophical standpoint,
and the impossibility of rationalising it from the religious stand
point a difficulty which gave rise to the absurd theory that what
is true in theology can be false in philosophy, and vice versa. We
need not be surprised that Scholasticism thus became in substance
and in effect the negation of every religious philosophy.
4. Scholasticism was incapable of accomplishing the new task,
which now became a necessity, namely, to get behind the contingent
historical forms within which the religious consciousness had been
moulded ; in this particular case, Catholicism, or even Christianity,
and examine the nature of the religious consciousness itself. In
order to accomplish this it was necessary to transcend the historical
268 CHANGES IN CHRISTIAN THOUGHT
limitations which had kept scholastic speculation hidebound, and
to consider directly the facts of spiritual development, in short,
to take up once again that process of "internalisation" which Chris
tianity had initiated in face of Paganism, transferring the centre
of thought from the world to man, from the external to the in
ternal. Religion could no longer be regarded solely as a tradition
consecrated by history, to which philosophy had to adapt itself. It
was also a spiritual activity which philosophy had to investigate
for its own sake.
This was the task of the men of the Renaissance. The great
achievement of the Renaissance was to re-affirm the value of the
self, and of the inner life, the "know thyself" which Greek philo
sophy had previously declared to be man s chief end. The inner
life of the individual was regarded as having a reality and a value
in itself, independently of the faith which determines it. This new
value attached to the manifestations of the individual human spirit
was heightened by the pantheistic vision of the universe, which the
Renaissance had inherited from Paganism. An Immanent theory
of the relation of God to Nature raises the value of the human spirit
by making it participate in the divine nature, whereas theories of
transcendence, by separating God and man, tend to lower the value
of the individual.
The Renaissance, with its profound sense of the reality of the
individual, sought God in man, in the inward man, according to
the phrase of St. Augustine. For Bruno, God is 1 within us in a
deeper sense than we can be said to be present to ourselves. He
is the soul of our soul. According to Jacob Boehme, God lives in
us, and we live in God, to such an extent that if we are pure and
holy we are God. The "German Theology" instructs men to know
themselves in their own hearts, to seek for happiness in God and
in his work, not in a Being who exists outside us, but in a God
who lives and has his being within us.
The Renaissance attached immense value to the self as vehicle
of the truth, and, therefore, devoted a new attention to the activities
of the human spirit. To scholasticism the supreme concern was
the salvation of the soul according to certain accepted doctrines.
Humanism, on the contrary, sought first of all to know the human
spirit and its activities. This explains the indifference of the men
of the Renaissance to particular historical forms of religion, and
the desire for a religion which would satisfy the needs of the spirit
without constraining it to accept a specific tradition. There hence
arose a spirit of fraternity and a religious tolerance unknown to
mediaeval orthodoxy. Religion was no longer conceived as adher
ence to a body of doctrines, but in harmony with the current mysti-
CHANGES IN CHRISTIAN THOUGHT 269
cism, as a life of the spirit. The foundations were thus provided
for a true religious philosophy. With Descartes, man acquires the
consciousness that religion is not something apart or withdrawn
from the laws of the spirit, while, at the same time, religion loses
its intangibility, and becomes a form or stage of knowledge. In
this way Descartes succeeds in, at least, laying the foundations of
the philosophy of religion.
5. It is, however, with Spinoza that philosophy of religion
really begins, as systematic reflection on the essence of religion.
It may even be asserted that in some respects the philosophy of
religion has not yet gone beyond the main lines 1 laid down by the
Spinozistic philosophy. Spinoza distinguished philosophy from
theology, not merely in form, as Thomism had already done, but
also in substance. Theology is a practical and moral science, having
as its aim to stimulate obedience and piety. The function of
philosophy is theoretical, its task being to investigate the relation
of things to God. Anticipating the new philosophy of values,
Spinoza came to the conclusion that the essence of God is indif
ferent to faith, meaning thereby that faith is indifferent to the
intellectualistic truth or content of the dogmas. According to him,
these dogmas cannot be at once "true" and "salutary" to those who
accept them, since their efficacy lies not in their theoretical truth,
but in their practical force. Tradition and rites 1 are not necessary
in order to know the love of God. Spinoza, in fact, opened a path
which, on the one hand, led to Deism, and, on the other, to Kant.
Without Spinoza s criticism of the positive religions, Hume could
not have elaborated his religious philosophy, which postulated a
religion, grounded not on authority, but in the nature of man
himself. The true successor of Spinoza, however, is Kant, whose
philosophy of religion simply carries to its extreme consequences
the doctrine of Spinoza. In reducing religion to moralism, Kant
ended by regarding it, as Spinoza had done, as a practical activity ;
in other words, as a complex of values. Yet Kant, in his ethical
abstractness, failed where Spinoza had succeeded. He did not
grasp, as Spinoza had done, the value of religious 1 experience. He
shared the conception peculiar to English Deism, of an absolute
stereotyped religion, of which the positive religions were transitory
and valueless forms. He failed to comprehend the function of
grace, of prayer, of worship, of all, indeed, that was truly essential
to the religious life.
6. Hegel follows Kant in so far as he conceived an abstract
religion, of which the historical religions are particular forms, but
he transcends the narrow Kantian Moralism inasmuch as he re
gards the positive religions as necessary moments in a spiritual
270 CHANGES IN CHRISTIAN THOUGHT
process, which is gradually revealed in the history of religions. In
fact, for Hegel, the philosophy of religion tends to become one
with the history of religions : to know the religious fact in its actual
process of becoming is at the same time to evaluate it : to discover
the laws which govern spirit is to comprehend at the same time
the laws which guide history. In this way the various religions
assume a certain necessary character, which confers on them, even
on so-called "lower" religions, a new dignity. In adopting this
point of view, Hegel makes a notable advance in two directions.
He transcends the traditional scholastic orthodoxy, which made
truth the exclusive possession of one religion, while at the same
time, he breaks through the Kantian Moral ism which limited reli
gion to a single activity of the spirit. Eeligion is now seen to
permeate all history and all spirit. It becomes a living process,
indeed, in a sense the one universal spiritual process.
But if in this way religion as activity of the spirit takes on
a new grandeur of aspect, Christianity emerges with a diminished
importance. Although Hegel identifies Christianity with the
Absolute Religion, thus regarding it as the goal and completion
of the entire religious evolution, yet the fact remains that Christian
ity is brought within the general spiritual process, and ceases to
be "exceptional" or "divine," except for those who consider the
entire course of history as divine. Hegel s Christianity is magni
ficent, but not miraculous. The Christianity of Scholasticism was
miraculous, even if it was not so magnificent.
With Hegel there is brought to a close the old controversy be
tween philosophy and religion. They are seen to be identical in
substance, though differing in form. They are now regarded as
diverse visions of a truth which is one and single, expressed in
terms of reason by philosophy, through the medium of imagina
tion and intuition by religion.
The individual, however, seems to lose his value, when placed
in the midst of the immense spiritual process which stretches across
history. Hegel, from the heights of his general survey, fails to
enter the penetralia of the individual spirit. Particular experiences
escape his ken. His distinction between religion and philosophy,
according to which religion, while identical in content with philo
sophy, functions only through images and symbols, remained only a
theoretical distinction, and did not, as it might have done, serve
as the starting point for a fruitful investigation into individual reli-
gous life.
With Kant and Hegel religious philosophising touched the last
heights of abstract analysis and speculation. A reaction was re-
qnired to bring the philosophic mind once more into contact with
CHANGES IN CHRISTIAN THOUGHT 271
the active life of the spirit, and reactions were not lacking. Herder
reacted in the name of a full and real religious life, founded on
the conception of God as immanent spirit. Lessing reacted on
behalf of a faith grounded on feeling, independent of all argu
mentation. Hamann, and later, Novalis, as follower of Fichte,
pleaded for a real unity of the spirit, while Jacobi appealed to the
fact of the "immediacy" of religious experience and knowledge.
But it was Fichte, above all others, who became the signal of re
action. Deserting Kantianism, with its doctrine of an impossible
thing-in-itself," he betook himself to an absolute idealism, in
which all is God, and nothing exists apart from God. Life and the
universe appear to him as a morality or moral will in action, to
which man must adhere if he is truly and really to live. Fichte
thus grasps what Kant had failed to apprehend that religion is
not an ethics so much as a metaphysic, an interpretation of the
world, an abundant fullness of living, a unification of the spirit.
Keligion is not a succession of actions, but light, the only true light
which inspires and guides life in all its forms. The right action
is not something imposed from without, it is self -revealing : it is
not sacrifice, nor suffering, nor failure but the full and free ex
pression of that activity which constitutes the blessed life of the
spirit.
7. Fichte s doctrine of religion was the result of a long specu
lative travail of the spirit. Schleiermacher reached his doctrine
by considering the facts of daily experience. He strives to cut
himself loose from all abstractions. Eeligion is a life which is lived,
a real event of the spirit, and to live religiously implies a fullness
and potency of feeling which can be realised only through the free
activity of the spirit, not reached by arid paths of dogmatic
doctrine. Dogmas have consequently for Schleiermacher only a
symbolic value, and are the outcome of the necessity of expressing
and communicating that inner life of the spirit of which the his
torical religions are so many differentiations. The historical reli
gions are distinguishable from each other, not so much through
determinate differences of content, as through specific differences
in the tone or colour of religious feeling. And the same is true
of all individual expressions of the religious consciousness. Having
thus eliminated from religion all doctrinal and rational constituent
elements, it becomes impossible to reduce to unity or uniformity
the diverse expressions of the religious consciousness. On last
analysis, we are left with as many religions as there are individuals.
The philosophy of religions seems to issue finally in the triumph
of individualism and subjectivism.
272 CHANGES IN CHRISTIAN THOUGHT
II.
1. In this process of religious thought, as it passed through four
essential moments or stages, represented by Spinoza, Kant, Hegel,
Schleiermacher, we can trace the gradual, and perhaps unconscious
formation of the new theory of religion as synthesis of values.
"When Spinoza attributes to theology a practical function, and div
orces the efficacy of dogmas from their truth-content, when Kant
gives religion a strictly ethical function, when Hegel gives it a
representative function, when Schleiermacher reduces it to feeling
we can s"ee in all this the slow formation of a theory of values,
of a doctrine which places the essential element of religion, not
in concepts, but in feeling and sentiment, not in knowledge, but
in experience. It is the antipodes of scholastic philosophy, for
which the centre and essence of religion were to be found in know
ledge. In the Middle Ages the supreme religious end was to know
God. In our modern epoch, the supreme end is to live God. It
seems a natural outcome of this evolution of thought when Her
mann declares that religion need have no metaphysical content. It
does not matter to the religious life, according to Hermann, what
the metaphysical content may be, dogmatic, materialistic, idealistic,
or pantheistic, since religion should concern itself only with the
moral ideal. Ritschl also rejects metaphysic, and views Christian
ity as a system of values, historically grounded, whose validity de
pends not on theoretical considerations, but on experience. Kaf
tan is of opinion that the aim of religion is to realise, not ethical
ideals, but "goods," and that its basis is eudaimonistic. Biederman
defines religion as a relation to Universal Being, not of the general
thinking self, but of the individual practical self, that is to say, as
a practical consciousness of the absolute. Zeller places the essence
of religion in the need of goods which we do not posses. Bender
finds the final end of every religion in the liberation of man from
all impediments, and in the attainment of happiness. Sabatier
asserts that faith is the practical solution of the conflict between
spirit and nature, and that all religious judgments are judgments
of value. King pronounces religion to be a va.luational attitude in
face of determinate values, and Girgensohn places the content of
religion in the values of the practical reason. Finally, Hoffding
regards religion as conservation of values.
All modern religious philosophy is thus a philosophy of values ;
or, in other terms, the great philosophic conquest initiated by the
Reformation has been accomplished, the separation of philosophy
from religion. Religion is no longer a lower, inadequate, or ob
scure form of knowledge as contrasted with a higher stage of full
and complete knowledge, supposed to be attainable by the philo-
CHANGES IN CHRISTIAN THOUGHT 273
sophic consciousness, but is a specific activity of the human spirit,
not to be identified psychologically with the activity of cognition.
This change of attitude really is equivalent to a great revolu
tion, for, from the religious point of view, the theory of religion as
"value" or as "experience/ 7 signifies nothing less than a Evalua
tion of theology. Theology possessed a value and dignity of its
own so long as a cognitive function was attributed to religion.
Theology meant then neither more nor less than knowledge
of God. The metaphysical world could be known by means of
theology, just as the physical world could be known by means of
physics. The metaphysical world was as objective, concrete, real
as the physical world. Dogmas in the one sphere were comparable
to physical laws in the other sphere. The Trinity was a mystery,
undoubtedly, but it was a mathematical mystery. Transubstantiation
also was a mystery, but it was a chemical mystery. All religion
thus became, on last analysis, nature, that is a complex of notions,
realistic and objective. The origin of this Realism is to be found
in Greek speculation. Greek philosophy began to influence the
interpretation of Christian experience, when Christianity left Judea
and entered the great Hellenic world. It brought to the interpre
tation of the new religion, that realism, that reduction of spirit
to nature, that need of objectifying inner facts which was charac
teristic of Greek mentality. Theology as an "objective" science,
and religion as a form of cognition, were the products of this
marriage of Christian faith and Greek realism. Now the concep
tion of religion as a synthesis of values, or as experience, implies
the reduction of dogmas to symbols. But this reduction means
that theology loses completely its former value. It ceases to be a
complex of cognitions, having value as knowledge, and becomes
a collection of representations having value as 1 symbols. In a word,
theology has become mythology. This is the profoundly significant
result to which the long process we have traced, finally leads.
Theology retains its name, but really it has become mythology.
And, having become mythology, it ceases to have the same im
portance for the religious consciousness which it had of old. It
may continue to represent imperfectly the religious consciousness,
but it no longer determines it.
3. From this reduction of theology to mythology arises what
may seem to some a great danger, to others a great hope nothing
less than the possible re-integration of Christianity. The history
of Christianity has been a long process of disintegration. From
the Apostolic Age downwards, it has shown a dispersive tendency,
a tendency to divide and dissolve into churches, sects, and here
sies. This centrifugal tendency is remarkable in a religion which
274 CHANGES IN CHRISTIAN THOUGHT
had its centre in a person, and ought, therefore, to present the
greatest unity. But the centralising force of the gospel of Jesus
had to meet another force Greek realism, with its demand for reli
gious knowledge. What man believes is true : the forms in which
he arranges and co-ordinates his experiences are true, that is, are
so many pieces of knowledge. At once the necessity arises of
opposing knowledge to knowledge, truth to alleged truth. For,
in matters of knowledge, one cannot be tolerant. If my piece of
knowledge is true, another assertion different from mine cannot
be equally true. Two statements in reference to natural objects
or events cannot be equally true: a body cannot at the same time
be white and black, or heavy and light, but must be either one
or the other. Scientific knowledge thus leads necessarily to dis
junction, "either or." When spirit is reduced, as we have said,
to nature, and experience to knowledge, and the believer is con
vinced that he possesses the only true knowledge of God, the path
way is opened for the entrance of schism, intolerance, persecution.
All the sad and saddening history of Christian dissidence and dis
integration takes its rise from the conception of the cognitional
function and value of theology.
But, with the reduction of theology to mythology, the reintegra-
tion of Christian unity becomes possible. The conceptual truths
which divide men will give way to the vital experiences which unite
them. For the dogma-concept which is the source of disharmony
will be substituted the dogma-symbol which allows harmony in
difference.
This is the great result of the philosophical development which,
beginning with Spinoza, culminates in the Christian thought of
the present day. The spiritual unity hitherto impossible, has be
come possible, thanks to the gradual transition from theology to
mythology. And, in fact, no previous age, has ever shown the
same intensive and extensive capacity |for bringing about) the
reintegration of Christian unity. In no epoch have there ever
been experiments so numerous and so varied in Christian unifica
tion.
These experiments are made in two different directions institu
tional and spiritual a unification of churches and a unification of
men. Much has already been accomplished in the first direction,
and more is being attempted unification of Methodist and Baptist
churches in the United States, unification of churches in Canada
and Australia, proposals for the unification of the Anglican or
Eussian church with the Eoman Catholic church. All these at
tempts represent a great step onwards in the progress towards
unity. But it is obvious that such unity will not be possible so long
CHANGES IN CHRISTIAN THOUGHT 275
as one church the Eoman Catholic church holds fast to theology
as a system of cognitional truths. On last analysis, however, the
attempt at an institutional re-integration of Christianity fails to
transcend the conception of theology as a system of cognitional
truths, since the aim is to unify the various theological systems in
one theology, which will still have the character and content of
cognitional truth. But in such a case the result would not be
essentially different from the cognitional theology of the apostolic
age, which led fatally to disintegration. A reintegration which
would consist merely in substituting for a number of separate
churches, a single church based on similar dogmatic foundations
could not possibly be successful.
A better fortune will attend attempts at a spiritual reintegra
tion. If theologies are regarded as systems of symbols or symbolised
truths, the historical diversity of these symbols 1 will be recognised
and transcended in the spiritual unity of the experience which they
contained or represented. The world-wide movement towards a
spiritual reintegration of Christianity is truly immense in its scope.
Under various names and with varying programmes, according to
differences of place and people, it has one and the same end in
view Christian unity in experience. It is unnecessary to enume
rate such attempts by individuals and societies, from the Young
Republic of Marc Saugnier, to Young Men s Christian Associations
and Christian Liberal and "super-confessional" associations founded
at Berlin, Leyden, Stockholm, and elsewhere: all these, and other
movements really form part of one movement, the spiritual re-
integration of Christianity.
A general movement so intense and profound does not come
into being without equally profound causes. Those causes are to be
found in the development of philosophic thought which we have
traced, the full effects of which are only now becoming apparent.
In fact, it is only in our own age that Christian reintegration is
presenting itself as possible. In any other age, it would have been
impossible. No previous epoch has contained varied expressions of
Christian thought comparable to those represented (to mention
only a few instances) by the transcendentalism of Emerson, the
evangelical Catholicism of Soderblom, the pure Christianity of
Tolstoi, the Unitarian Christianity of Naville, the universalistic
*[The Christian World correspondent thus describes the great Conference
held recently at Stockholm : "Thirty-seven nationalities mingled in a Christian
fellowship which has been real and delightful. East and West disproved Kip
ling s assertion that never the twain shall meet. Japanese and Chinese. Ameri
can and Australian. G reek and Scot, German and French, English and Bul
garian, whites and browns, and blacks and yellows, have met in amity with a
coirmon purpose, forgetting all racial distinctions in an underlying Christian
unity, and differing in nought save opinion." Edi1or.~\.
276 CHANGES IN CHRISTIAN THOUGHT
Christianity of von Hiigel, all of these containing spiritual teach
ing in which cognitional theology is transcended, and attempts
made to reintegrate Christian unity on the basis of experience.
During the Middle Ages Catholicism had been negative and exclu
sive, conceiving and asserting itself as negation of other forms of
religion. After the Beformation, Catholicism and Protestantism
stood face to face, each denying the validity of the other, in the same
attitude which Catholicism had adopted during the Middle Ages
towards other religions. Christianity had produced more discord
than concord. The world has had to wait till our own age for the
unifying function of Christianity to be truly understood. We be
lieve, therefore, that the present age and the immediate future rep
resent a great epoch in the history of Christianity, the third epoch
in succession to those of Protestantism and Catholicism, the epoch
in which the heritage from Pagan speculative thought will be defi
nitely transcended, the epoch of the unification of Christianity,
not in a church, but in God.
NOTES AND NEWS.
The Sixth of the series of International Corigresses of Philosophy
(inaugurated at Paris in 1900 for the advancement of philosophy and
the promotion of intercourse among philosophical scholars) will be held
in the United States, Sept. 13-17, 1926, at Harvard University. The
recognised languages will be Eriglish, French, German, Italian, and
Spanish. Membership in the Congress will include Active Members
(fee $5.00) and Associate Members (fee $2.50). The Sessions of the
Congress will be arranged under four divisions, Metaphysics, Theory
of Knowledge, Logic, and Scientific Method; Theory of Values; His
tory of Philosophy. One Grerteral Session under each division will be
held, with papers by specially invited speakers. Sectional meetings will
also be held under each division. No papers will be accepted, unless
they are to be presented by their authors in person. Adhesions,
membership fees, and papers for the Sectional Sessions may be sent
to Professor John J. Coss, Corresponding Secretary, 531 West 116th
Street, New York City
277
GREAT THINKERS II-HENRI BERGSON
By Professor J. Alexander Gunn, M.A., B.Sc., Ph.D.
University of Melbourne.
I.
MONSIEUR BERGSON has reached the age when professors
retire from their chairs, and, if they are of international repute,
usually go on a lecture tour either to America or Australia. Bergson
has already been to the States, but not to Australia. It is likely
that he will be asked to visit Australia in the near future. The
moment is opportune, therefore, to take a brief survey of the man
and his work.
Short in stature, powerful in intellect, extremely courteous in
manner, genial in conversation and incisive in debate, Henri Bergson
has charmed Paris by his lectures and the world by his books.
Born in Paris, in a house close to the Opera, in the year that
Darwin published his "Origin of Species 1 " (1859) the young Bergson
was taken to London. His family belong to that race which is so
unique in the world s history, that intellectually aggressive people
that has produced Moses, Amos, Jesus, Spinoza, Heine, Levy-Bruhl,
Durkheim, Einstein the Jews. Bergson s own family is mainly
Polish, but there is Irish blood on his mother s side. Young Berg
son learned English as a second native tongue. Returning to France
he entered upon courses at the Lycees, and, prior to entering the
University, became a naturalised citizen of France (then under the
Second Empire). This step is necessary for all who wish to take up
permanent teaching posts in that country.
The Lycees have had a profound influence on the intellectual
life of France. Their curriculum contains, in its final year, philo
sophy. In France philosophy is not hidden away in the academic
cloisters, it is taught in the schools. This partly accounts for the
remarkable familiarity with philosophical ideas 1 possessed by French
men. It has given then a higher average of philosophical education
than any other nation. The familiarity and accuracy with which
both officers and men of the French Army could discuss, e.g. Des
cartes and his work, was remarkable and to be explained mainly by
the work of the lycees.
Henri Bergson passed several years at the Lycee Fontaine (now
the Lycee Condorcet) and proved himeslf brilliant at science, clas
sics, and especially mathematics.* He hesitated between work in
mathematics and in philosophy. He chose the latter and it would
be idle to surmise what might have happened had he taken the
other course. In view of his admiration for Poincare and in view
*His first published work was a mathematical article written when he was
nineteen. At twenty-five he issued his Lucretius showing his ability in classical
scholarship.
278 GREAT THINKERS.
of his latest book, "Duree et Simultaneity, d apres la theoris
d Einstein, Bergson might have outdistanced Poincare and given
us a French Theory of Relativity, to which Poincare himself nearly
approached. However, to leave fancy for fact, Bergson entered the
Ecole Normale Superieure at nineteen and took the Licence and
Agregation in Philosophy. From there he went to teach at the
"automobile town" of Clermont Ferrand and began to formulate his
own philosophy, publishing (1889) his theses for the Doctorate of
Letters, one Latin (on Aristotle) and one French, entitled Essai
sur les Donnes immedwtes de la conscience, which is better de
scribed by its English title, Time and Free-Will. This volume was
dedicated to Lachelier who, incon junction with Ravaisson, had a
profound influence on the rising! generation of fyoung French
thinkers.*
After the publication of his theses and the issue of a critical
text of Lucretius, Bergson returned to the capital and in 1896
issued Matiere et Memoire, the fruit of much thought and research.
In 1900 he was appointed maitre de conference at his alma mater,
the Ecole Normale Superieure, and finally in 1900 was invited to the
Chair of Ancient Philosophy at the College de France. The elite of
Paris crowded to his lectures, and his theatre was filled to overflow
ing. To be one of the forty- three professors of this intellectual
citadel was a high honour and recognition by his countrymen, as
was also his election later to the Institute as a member of two
Academies, the Academie de Sciences morales et politiques, and the
great collection of the Forty Immortals , the Academie Francaise.
He issued his charming little book on Laughter, Le Eire, essai
sur le Comique et la Vie, and his Introduction a la Metaphysique ap
peared as an article dealing with his view of intuition as a kind of
intellectual sympathy.!
On the death of the sociologist, Tarde, Bergson accepted the
Chair of Modern Philosophy. In 1907 he made perhaps his greatest
contribution to thought in I Evolution Creatrice, which was widely
bought (21 editions were sold out by 1918), deeply studied and
translated into many tongues, and made popular in England by the
enthusiasm of the American thinker, William James, in his English
lectures.
*Lachelier 9 "Introduction" is a brilliant little hook. Ravais-son issued a
Philosophical Manifesto in 1867, his "Rapport." Boutroux emphasised the
problems of freedom and of science. The link of a common interest in the Time
problem is seen in Bergson s review of Guyau s Ide"e du Temps. On the
work of thpw mpn and others who have been, outside their country, unduly
overshadowed by the cnorrrous popularity of Bergson (see tbe writer s volume
Modern, French PlulosopJn/).
tin book form in English, not in French.
i\Villiam James, A Pluralistic Universe, chap. v. and vi.
GREAT THINKERS. 279
Bergson himself was invited to England and at Oxford deliv
ered two lectures which are the best introduction to, and summary
of, his whole thought La Perception du Changement. These are
unfortunately not as well known as they should be, and reveal the
power of clear, concise exposition so characteristic of the French
intellectuals generally. At Birmingham he lectured on Life and
Consciousness, at London on The Nature of the Soul, and on Fan-
tomes des vivants et Recherche psychique. He was President of the
Society for Psychical Research. Just prior to the war he gave the
Gilford Lectures in Edinburgh on The Problem of Personality.
Visiting the United States he lectured on Spiritualite et Liberte
and La methode de philosophic. He was again at Oxford at the
Congress in 1920 and spoke on Prevision et Nouveaute.
Bergson was not, however, a prophet who was without honour in
his own country. His election to the Academy proves this, but
more remarkable was the intense interest in his thought taken by
philosophical minds, and secondly by poets, theologians and social
revolutionaries. His books had an influence on contemporary lit
erary men (especially Peguy* and Claudel). The Church banned
his books and placed him on the Index." But Georges Sorel, the
Syndicalist, author of "Reflections on Violence" declared that the
"elan ouvrier" is brother to the elan vital" and that the same note
was being sounded by the professor of philosophy at the College de
France and by the trumpet of social revolution at socialist (or
rather syndicalist) headquarters. Sorel, in seeking to ally Bergson
with Bolshevism or Revolutionary Syndicalism, overlooked the fact
that while the philosopher believes firmly in the reality of change, he
does not consider that all social changes are therefore good.
The war turned attention from these arguments (only tem
porarily), and Bergson went to America with Viviani, and also to
Spain on diplomatic missions. He published his little book on La
Signification de la Guerre, in which he patriotically conceived the
conflict as one of the esprit of the French against the mechanism of
the Germans.
Since the war Bergson has not ceased his "intellectual effort."
Under the title of L Energie Spirituelle, he has gathered together
some of his articles out of print, and he is occupied with another
volume of collections, to contain (inter alia) The Perception of
Change, and the Introduction to Metaphysics, together with some
new matter on the precise nature of Intuition.
In 1920 he quitted the active duties of his Chair at the College
de France in favour of M. Le Roy.f and has been occupied since
*See on this Some Modern French Thinkers, by Miss- Turquet-Milne.
tT,e Roy published "Une philosophic Nouvcllc." in 1012.
280 GREAT THINKERS.
with a work on Human Society, which will deal primarily with
sociology but also with ethics and religion. It need hardly be said
that this volume is awaited with great interest. From time to time
he has been absent from Paris at his chalet in Switzerland, near
Mont Blanc and has been detained at Geneva (until recently) as
Chairman of the League of Nations Committee on International
Intellectual Co-operation. Demands of health will require him in
future to sojourn away from the capital, but one cannot but regret
the quite false rumours spread in the French and English press
about his health. (The French are prone to this sort of thing. A
long obituary notice of the death of Boutroux appeared about the
time of the Armistice, but in 1920 and 1921 the present writer had
long conversations with him at his home in the "Fondation Thiers.")
The most important recent work of Bergson has not, however,
received the attention it deserves. He laid aside for a time in 1920,
his preoccupation with Sociology for a critical study of J. Einstein s
work in order to examine the relationship between the theory of
Kelativity and his own doctrines on Time which date from 1889.
The fruit of these labours was a remarkable little volume, issued in
1922 (and now in several subsequent revised editions) "Duree et
Simultaneity a propos de la theorie d j Einstein. This book and its
ideas may serve as a point of departure from this biographical
survey to enter on a very brief examination of the main ideas in
the Bergsonian philosophy.
II.
Bergson s philosophy is not offered to us as a system, but centres
round certain ideas. The French have no great constructive, am
bitious systems like those of Spinoza, Kant or Hegel. Bergson
makes no pretence of offering a complete system as the Germans
have done. He is content to leave intellectual Big Berthas to them
and to proceed to an attack on certain problems in the French
manner with smaller but more efficient "seventy-fives." On the
other hand he will go down to posterity with a great reputation for
brilliant phychological analysis rather than as a philosopher on the
plane of Spinoza, Kant, or Hegel, unless his forthcoming work gets
on to the high plane on which these thinkers moved.
The root ideas and problems of the Bergsonian philosophy
(around which an enormous mass of expository and critical litera
ture has grown up in France, Germany, England, Italy, and
America*) are topics of such eternal interest as Change, Time,
Freedom, Memory, Intuition, and Evolution.
*As shown by the bibliography in the writer s little volume, "Bergson and
His Pliilosoptii/," (London. Mothuen). The most important of these works in the
English tongue are those of Cunningham, Lindsay, W eldon Carr, McKellar
Stewart, Rostrevor.
GREAT THINKERS. 281
Bergson considers that ordinary Time, the time measured by
clocks and used for our rendezvous of pleasure or business is a false
Time. It is, he thinks, really Space and not Time at all, only Time
spatialised (mathematise a Toutrance), real time is, for him, La
Duree, the time of the mind, le Temps percu et vecu, actually per
ceived, experienced, lived by us.
In the Theory of Eelativity there arise some paradoxes in re
gard to the question of time. Einstein insists 1 that there is not a
single Time for events nor an absolute simultaneity. There exist
multiple times. Events which for an observer on the earth are con
temporary or simultaneous are not contemporary or simultaneous
for an observer in another planet. Also we are asked to accept the
doctrine that all observation of events at a distance is bound up with
light signals and depends on the speed of light which is invariable.
Further there is no speed in the universe greater than that of light,
according to Einstein. If one could imagine a traveller in a pro
jectile like the man in Jules Verne, in Flammarion s "Lumen," or in
Langevin s 1 famous hypothesis, travelling faster than light, this
gentleman would be able to see events backwards, i.e., the normal
time-order would be, for him, reversed. As Nordmann, the Paris
astronomer puts it, such a traveller could see the battle of the
Marne in a unique manner, like the man in H. G-. Wells Time
Machine. He would see the soldiers lying dead, arising, fighting,
then going to Paris in Gallieni s taxi cabs (backwards} , a mode of
motion similar to that pictured in the now well-known limerick
There was a young lady of Bright
"Whose speed was faster than light
She eloped one day
In a relative way
And returned on the previous night.
(As Dr. Johnson said of the English when they philosophise "cheer
fulness will keep breaking in").
In his book on Duree et Simultaneite, Bergson has denounced
the multiple times of the theory of relativity and has endeavoured
to show that they rest on a half-baked and half-applied interpreta
tion of relativity. For Bergson no time is real save La Duree the
time of our minds, not that of clocks. His psychological analysis of
time experience is a penetrating one but the Duree of Bergson is
not (in the writer s 1 opinion) really Time. It is too subjective.
Time involves succession and duration. La Duree is not real time,
but an introspection of the mind examining its experience of en
joying itself. Undoubtedly it is an experience. Lovers and mystics
when they are absorbed in the object of their contemplation become
2X2 GREAT THINKERS.
oblivious of time, but they cannot dispense with clock-time for their
rendezvous. La Duree is 1 the souPs experience of itself f not of Time.
Further I also disagree with the fundamental Bergsonian thesis
All is change and change is all." He has forgotten or neglected
the permanence in our experience and has led us into a world bar
ren and contingent which is making nowhere. He rejects teleology
because he acclaims freedom. But freedom is not caprice, and in
our own lives we choose from time to time (it is true), but we de
termine our choices by ideas and ideals and by ourselves as person
alities valuing these ideas and ideals. He has minimised the effect
of ideas and ideals on the life of mankind, and on personal char
acter and action. He has not admitted with his great French critic,
Alfred Fouillee, that ideas are forces in the individual and col
lective live of humanity. Thus he has not climbed the heights of
Descartes, Spinoza, and Kant. More fairly, perhaps, one might
say he has never brought his discussion on to this plane and so his
doctrine of freedom is 1 inadequate and partly irrational.
It is true that we all are generally creatures of habit. In Berg-
son s opinion habit is the victory of matter over the spontaneity of
spirit. But spontaneity in itself undirected by conceptions of end
or value is only another form of caprice, and we must formulate a
conception of freedom which does not neglect the conceptions of
value, obligation and end in the life and progress of humanity. For
Bergson freedom is due to the original impetus, but freedom for
man is not an original endowment. Far from this, it is an achieve
ment, and that a difficult but progressive one. Man is fundament
ally instinctive, and may be the capricious slave of these impulses.
Freedom cannot be due merely to them, for it implies development
beyond the mere sphere of vital impulses to a plane of moral obli
gation. Thi? problem Bergson has never touched.
Psychologically, Bergson has done valuable work in his analysis
of memory. He draws a distinction between automatic memoris
ing and "pure" memory. Never, he affirms, does the mind really
forget anything absolutely beyond recall. We may fail to recall
our past experience at some particular moment, but we can never be
sure that it is gone for ever. In dreams and in moments of stress
and danger our total past may be revived. In this connection we
should like to say that the dreams of the normal person are largely
due to past memories and this point is in danger of being overlooked
by the insistence on sex which is a misguided obsession of the
Freudians. Bergson in his charming little book on Dreams, simply
pays no attention to Freud at all. In the normal individual, fears
and wishes moderately, and past memories intensely, determine the
character of dream s.
GREAT THINKERS. 283
Bergson regards memory as the real plane of spirit, and relates
it to the spiritual or idealist interpretation of the Universe. Also
in the sphere of psychic research it is an important factor. Berg-
son is deeply interested in such research and the present writer re
calls with pleasure a long conversation with him on the subject of
that remarkable and anonymous book, An Adventure (Macmillan),
which should be read by all interested in psychic phenomena. This
book contains an account of a visit to Versailles by two ladies who
seem to have experienced, heard, and seen what Marie Antoinette
heard and saw there just before her death. The case is singularly
interesting in view of the great geographical alterations at Versailles
since that date, which were unknown to the ladies.
Bergson has been largely instrumental in breaking down the
dominant faith of a now past generation in the mechanistic and
materialistic view of the universe. What should we know now about
the nature of mind, he suggests, if the labours of the last three hun
dred years had been devoted to the phenomena of mind instead of
to the phenomena of the physical universe. In his inssitence on
Mind and its primacy, Bergson ranks with the Idealists. He real
ises, however, that personality is 1 allied to matter, that conscious
life is allied to cerebral activity. Nevertheless, he emphatically re
jects "psycho-physical parallelism" as a final explanation and is
even sufficiently daring to affirm that telepathy may be a fact, and
the life of the mind wider than that of the brain which it uses as
its instrument. This is a complete reversal of the view point so
tersely expressed by Cabanis in his statement that "the brain secretes
thought as the liver secretes bile."
Another idea in Bergsonism is the insistence upon the limits of
the intellect and the glories of Intuition. In this connection
Bergson s own language has been most unfortunate and contradict
ory. In his Introduction to Metaphysics he speaks of "the reversal
of all our habits and thought," and asserts that intellect misleads us.
This is an extremely regrettable assertion. It is 1 truer to say that
possibly the intellect is inadequate to express all our feelings, but
to suggest utter antagonism between intellect and intuition, as he
does, is to land us in irrational mysticism or to force us into ac
ceptance of a singularly narrow view of intellect as merely the power
to measure solid bodies and add up columns of .s.d. Such a con
ception is not that of human reason as taken by the great thinkers,
nor is it true to experience. Bersrson here needs to take his 1 stand on
a broader conception of human reason and to recognise its transition
from the purely analytic to the synthetic grasp of life. Intellect
284 GREAT THINKERS.
narrowly surveyed is purely analytic, intuition he claims, is intellec
tual (mark the word!) sympathy, and is synthetic in character. He
errs in trying to drive a wedge between these two activities of the
mind but he gives up this mood in his Huxley Lecture on Life and
Consciousness. There he admits the necessity of intellectual work
as a prologue to intuitions and while recognising the value of science
sees rightly that man cannot live by that kind of dry bread alone.
"We reach reality in the profoundest meaning of that word by a
combined and progressive development of science and philosophy."
This admission in Creative Evolution is quite contrary to his re
marks in the earlier book. To say that science is inadequate is cor
rect, to say it is non-sensical and misleading is unpardonable, and
we can never imagine Boutroux, who did so much to interpret
science to philosophers and philosophy to the scientists, and who
was in some respects a more "ultimate" thinker than Bergson, ever
making such statements as 1 those on Intuition in the Introduction to
Metaphysics. Intuition, if intelligible or valuable, is reason in its
broadest synthetic activity of appreciation and enjoyment. Philo
sophy in this sense and at this height, gives us, as Bergson rightly
affirms, a joy which "Science" can never provide, because "Science"
consists of piece-meal sciences valuable and necessary, but not final.
We noted that Bergson was 1 born in the year Darwin published
his great work. In 1907 Bergson s own contribution to the doctrines
of evolution was made. He there traced with bewitching charm the
evolution of life from early times (beginning with an initial super-
consciousness) through the physical world, to life in its forms of
torpor (in plants), instincts 1 (in animals), intelligence and intuition
(in man) . He succeeds in showing how much Evolution" describes
and how little it explains. His criticism of Darwinian phrases like
adaptation to environment is valuable. "That adaptation to environ
ment is the necessary condition of Evolution we do not question for
a moment. It is quite evident that a species would disappear should
it fail to bend to the conditions of existence which are imposed on
it. But it is one thing to recognise that outer circumstances are
forces Evolution must reckon with, another to claim that they are
the directing causes of Evolution."* The truth is that adaptation
explains the sinuosities of the movement of Evolution, but not the
general directions 1 of the movement, still less the movement itself. "f
The evolution of life cannot be explained as merely a series of adapt
ations; a mechanistic view is inadequate to explain the facts,
equally inadequate (Bergson claims) is a finalist or teleological con
ception.
Creative Evolution, p. 107 (French text, p. Ill), F. 11).
, p. 108 (F.p. 112).
GREAT THINKERS. 285
His position is here peculiar, and seems a curious blend of ideal
ism and agnostic naturalism. He begins with mind, which creates
matter, and yet rejects any idea of purpose. He, rather inconsist
ently with this, looks on Evolution as a way to personality, its high
est manifestation. Evolution is the push of an elan vital, but this
push aims only at self-manifestation. Bergson never reaches the
sphere of values, or discusses progress in relation to these. This he
intends to do in his forthcoming sociological and ethical treatise.
Meanwhile we emphasise the importance of this view of progress. It
is not assured, it is possible only if we will it and if we side with
the initiative of the spirit rather than the conservatism and auto
matism of matter. There are grave difficulties in any theory of
evolution, such as the explanations of matter, life, mind, and con
science. Each of these levels shows something new or unforeseeable.*
Evolution is thus really creative. There are special difficulties
about Bergson s doctrine of the origin of matter and his theory of
spirit lessening in tension and so giving rise to matter, yet later
having to fight against that very matter it has fashioned. This is
an eternal problem and Bergson we must remember does not pro
fess to give us a full system of philosophy. He believes 1 that science,
history, philosophy and sociology can only advance by intellectual
co-operation. He modestly considers his own share that of a digger
at the roots clearing the ground and getting rid of the stumps of an
outworn materialistic philosophy which, like a cancer, mars the de
velopment of our intellectual and spiritual life. He has not yet
given to the world his thoughts on sociological, ethical and religious
problems which appear to be a necessary supplement to his published
work.
He believes in the possibility of intellectual, social and moral
progress 1 provided humanity will work for it. It will not be an evo
lution devoid of decisions and choices or free from terrible setbacks,
periods of retrogression but the elan vital of the Universe is going
on and he visualises in his Creative Evolution the animal taking its
stand on the plant, man bestriding animality and the whole of
humanity in space and time as one immense army galloping beside
and before and behind each of us in an overwhelming charge, able
to beat down every resistance and clear the most formidable ob
stacles, "perhaps even death."
*A valuable popular exposition of this is given in Hoernlg s "Matter, Life,
Mind, and God."
286 GREAT THINKERS.
While we disagree with his doctrines of Change, of Time, and
of Intuition and consider his doctrine of Freedom inadequate, and
lament his neglect of the philosophy of values, especially in relation
to the life-conflict between instinct and intellect in man, neverthe
less we pay homage to him as (within the limits he has set himself)
one of the most penetrating thinkers of our day, to whom we our
selves owe a personal debt which can never be adequately acknow
ledged, and a privileged inspiration never to be forgotten. While
not giving us a complete philosophy few men have ever done more
for philosophical problems than Bergson. He has restricted himself
to a few, but these are, as he recognises, fundamental. We hope
and trust that he will be able to conclude the great work on which
ie is engaged and if possible to visit Australia.
NOTES BY THE WAY.
No. 12.
Can Religion be Taught?
If religion cannot be taught, why did Jesus tell his disciples to teach it?
If teachers cannot be trusted to teach it, is it because they do not have any,
or because they have a wrong definition of it? The need of some form of
religious instruction hardly calls for argument or debate. But before the
educational and ecclesiastical world will come together in a common assent
to this need, both sides will have to make new definitions. The Pharisee
in the church is answerable for the distortion of the teaching of Jesus into a
burlesque of theology and forms and ceremonies. Religion cannot be taught
in our educational system if by religion is meant controversy over matters
that are not connected with behaviour. But it can be taught and it must
be taught if by it we mean what Jesus meant when he said, "Thou shalt love
the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy
strength, and with all thy mind; and thy neighbour as thyself." If that can
not be taught in our educational system, then the system is wrong. If it
can be taught, let us, in the name of Him who came to give us life abund
antly, incorporate it into the very heart of our schools, putting it first of
all into the heart of our teachers. For education without religion is more
than a blunder it is a falsehood; and if we do not teach religion in the
schools, we deserve to suffer as a nation and go the way of all those nations
that have thought more of accumulating facts than of making life.
To sum up: If religion is theology, and doctrine, and creeds made over
disputed definitions of God and Theories of man s destiny, it cannot be
taught in our schools. But if religion is love to God and man, it can be
taught anywhere and it ought to be taught in our schools. If it is not
taught, our whole educational pyramid will continue to wobble on its pin
nacle instead of resting firmly on its base.
C. M. Sheldon, in the Atlantic Monthly.
287
DISCUSSION SACRIFICE.
By T. Jasper, Wirrilahlee, Warren, N.S.W.
H. B. Irving on one occasion expressed the opinion that sacrifice was
easily the most effective card to play in the theatre. The eminent actor
should have known his business, but, in any case, we scarcely need his
assurance as to the intense admiration self-abnegation excites in the human
mind. No matter how foolish, how purposeless the act may be, the applause
is usually universal and instantaneous. Sacrifice seems to be regarded as in
itself good, regardless of its causes or consequences. Thus it is claimed
that war is justifiable, because it helps to stimulate sacrifice. This, from
the rational viewpoint, is rather worse than claiming that disease is good
because it has been responsible for some remarkable achievements in
medical science. In the recent war there was far too much exultation
and not sufficient sorrow expressed for the spectacle of youth, with the
star dust in its eyes, marching to death and mutilation. That is why we
shall probably need another human holocaust to reveal the fact that war,
in the ultimate issue, pays profits neither in economic, social, nor
spiritual coin.
In the sphere of personal conduct we find sacrificial offerings still
applauded and practised, though certainly more applauded than practised.
Self-abasement is acclaimed, and while it is likely that the humility we
hear expressed is mostly hypocrisy, there is a considerable number of persons
who endeavour in all sincerity to immolate their natural egoism to the
glory of God. Not only is humility lauded, but even the most extreme and
unnatural unselfishness. Altruism is in some measure natural and necessary,
but only that form of altruism which arises out of an alliance between
egoism and imagination, and which has as its creed "Do unto others as
you would have them do unto you. The kind of altruism I have in
mind is actually an extension of egoism, is deep rooted in self-knowledge
and pride, and preserves an enlightened eye for effects. For the rest,
man is a gregarious animal, both by nature and necessity, and affection
for his fellows is as surely a factor in his being as self-love. The human
individual does not, and never will, identify himself with his society as
completely as the ant or bee does, but in some cases he is commencing
even now to perceive dimly that the greatest individual happiness and
the truest individual expression are achievable only in social service using
the phrase in its spiritual significance. Between the new incentive of social
service and the old incentive of sacrifice there is a difference at once subtle
and significant but a difference that is rather of degree than of kind.
The connection I will later endeavour to indicate. But at least, it is evident
that because of the psychological revaluations and social emancipations of
recent years, the ideas of self-realisation and self-expression have come into
conflict in many cases with the philosophy of self-abasement and sacrifice.
And so the time is fitting for the consideration of the history of sacrifice,
a^d the interpretations of its peculiar potency. It first made its appearance
on the human stage through the instrumentality of the maternal instinct.
Apart from the supreme sacrifice of life, which undoubtedly many an early
288 SACRIFICE
human mother suffered in defence of her infant, it seems a significant fact
that the human offspring demanded more patience, love and care from its
mother than were required by the progeny of other species. Our race was
early instructed in the rudiments of sacrifice and service. Early in the
historical period we find sacrifice closely associated with religious sentiments
and beliefs. The most intelligible divinities man created were made,
naturally enough, in the image of the temporal tyrants. And since it was
usually necessary for barbarian rulers to be ferocious and cruel above
the average, and moreover to be savagely suspicious of possible supplanters,
the outstanding attributes ascribed to divine authority were anything but
idealistic or temperate in nature.
Through their conception of the divine attributes came the idea of
sacrificial offerings, and from the belief that the slaughter of animals and
captive human beings was pleasing to divine authority came inevitably,
to the most idealistic, the somewhat nobler notion that self-sacrifice would
be pleasing to God also. This latter idea reached its highest intensity
through the agency of Christianity. For so far as we can see through the
grimy smoke of mysticism the truth of this matter, the gentle Nazarene
appears to have been an astounding paradox an astounding paradox
in so far that he promulgated the extraordinary idea of a God of Love, that
yet delighted in human suffering! But Christ s most notable service to
humanity was in the inculcation of the idea of human brotherhood. The
brotherhood idea had been introduced before his time without being suf
ficiently expansive to include all classes, but Christ brought even the slave
and the harlot within the general relationship. In our time, when human
interdependence is being felt more intensely every day, we well may accept
the brotherhood Christ poetically visioned, as a scientific fact.
But Christ s voice would not have been heard in the after years were
it not for His death on the Cross. Dying for the sake of His cause, He
attracted more followers for the sake of His sacrifice than for the sake
of His cause. After His death, Christianity came to be a creed of self-
sacrifice, and sexual continence, fasting, general self-renunciation and self-
scourging came to be esteemed virtues of a high order. It is evident, how
ever, that the inculcation of doctrines of self-submissiveness and self-
repression was essential to the exercise of the tyrannical power which the
Christian Churches wielded. So it seems likely that that part of Christ s
teaching dealing directly with sacrifice was carried far beyond what He
intended, while His essential idea, that of a God of love and human fellow
ship, was obscured for the time. But the intense inculcation of the idea of
self-sacrifice effected by Christianity resulted in something much more im
portant than stupid and restrictive religious exercises. The disproportionate
progress made by races accepting Christianity, as compared with that made
by followers of other faiths, has been frequently noticed, but a suggestion
towards solving this problem may be gleaned through tracing the clue of
sacrifice into avenues other than religious. On the other hand, however, it
is evident that Christianity could only take root where the soil was fitted
to germdnate its seed in the beginning. It intensified what already existed,
and while the revolutionary nature of some of its teaching tended at first
to weaken the structure of states that accepted it, the emphasis it placed
SACRIFICE 289
on the idea of sacrifice was later found useful in developing and strength
ening social systems. Meanwhile, the idea of human brotherhood persisted
incongruously but prophetically through the marching years. Eeligious
and civil powers alike drew the despotic strength, so needful if states would
survive in the Dark Ages, from the general readiness to sacrifice. It was
fanatical support they received of a kind rare enough in our time. And
so the question arises How goes it with the impulse towards sacrifice to
day? As was suggested at the outset, the admiration for sacrifice is
still intense, yet it seems probable that the intellectual inclination towards
sacrifice is not nearly so great as it has been. We are more sceptical now
concerning our beliefs, more prone to criticise our leaders, yet more kindly,
more tolerant. We are less impressionable and more reflective. Moreover,
the morality of self-sacrifice is being replaced by the morality of self-
realisation and self-expression. Apart from intellectual conceptions, how
ever, the direct demand for sacrifice is diminishing, and in the spiritual sphere
when a demand diminishes that which supplies it tends to diminish also.
(Or it may be to develop into something else.) We are reluctant now
adays to further an opponent s cause by endowing him with a martyr s
crown, and more prone than heretofore to look through the play of per
sonalities to the principles that lie beyond. Even the maternal instinct
is commencing to lose its sacrificial aspect in civilised communities, owing to
the state accepting a certain responsibility for the child. We are more
solicitous now concerning the independence of individuals, yet at the same
time more impersonal in our ideaJs. We are becoming more imper
sonal simply because the real significance of the gregarious instincts
is at last emerging through the medium of self-realisation in
the ideals of social service. In ideas there is a continuous and connected
order of development, and with the diminution of the impulse towards
sacrifice comes the emergence of the ideas of social service. The moral
energy that supported, or still supports, the former, refined and rendered
conscious, has flowed, and will continue to flow, into the latter. Through
the agency of innumerable dynamos this energy has been developed, but
it is particularly to the maternal and gregarious instincts, to patriotism,
and to religion, that it owes its strength. These four incentives, be it
noted, have been all concerned either with the preservation or unification
of parts of the species at least, though in the case of the Christian
religion there entered prophetically the idea of an ultimate general
unification. The spiritual significance of the impulse to sacrifice is to be
found in the fact that it represented the infancy of the idea of social
service; the fanatical, impressionable, and ignorant infancy of the im
personal and reflective idea of social service. Something has been lost
in emotional intensity, perhaps, but much has been gained in breadth
of vision and freedom of movement. The world grows older, and we
have no longer the eager, impetuous heart of youth. Action and
emotion alone will not now suffice we must needs question whither we go
and why.
290
DISCUSSION II EXAMINATION OF IMMIGRANTS.
By Persia C. Campbell, M.A. (Sydney).
The subject of Dr. Martin s paper in, the last issue of the Australasian
Journal of Psychology and Philosophy " Examination of Immigrants"
being one of public importance, a discussion on some points made by the
writer seems to be desirable. There is no immediate need for panic action
against a foreign invasion. Dr. Martin draws attention to the number
of European immigrants who have recently invaded" Australia as in
dicating that the tide turned back from U.S.A. is bound to pour into this
country or into South America. The statistics of immigrants of white
races (exclusive of British and American) who entered Australia from
April, 1921, to September, 1924 counting excess of arrivals over depar
tures was 13,971; it is true there was a slightly increased rate of immi
gration from certain European countries between October, 1924,-January,
1925, 4,948 Southern Europeans and Finns arriving during that period, but
owing to a number of checks, partly administrative and partly natural, this
rate was reduced to 271 in February, and this reduction has apparently
been maintained. With, reference to the American overflow," it is
interesting to note that, most unexpectedly, many of the foreign quotas for
U.S.A. were incomplete at the end of the year 1924-5; this is less true for
the "nordic" groups than for those from Southern and Eastern Europe
e.g., on 30/6/1925 Italy had an unused quota of approximately 1,100, but
the British and German quotas were full. There is time, therefore, to give
this matter due deliberation.
Dr. Martin is not concerned with the total number of immigrants into
Australia. He advocates (a) discrimination against certain foreign immi
grant groups viz., those from the south, and east of Europe and (b) the
adoption of a more stringent policy of individual selection. He supports
the first proposal by instancing the social conditions in U.S.A., where the
better types have been swamped by the vast hordes of mentally inferior
individuals that have crowded into the country under the easy conditions of
modern migration and the inducement of comparatively high wages. Pre
sumably this refers to the immigration since 1890 of an increasing number
of Southern and Eastern Europeans. May I be permitted here to point
out a slight error in fact in the article referred to? It is not true that
the population of U.S.A. contains a slight majority of foreign-born over
native population. The number of foreign-born in 1920 was 13,920,692,
out of a total population of 105,710,620, and many of these were from
English-speaking countries. The judgment that many of the newcomers
are mentally inferior individuals is based (1) on the army intelligence
tests, and (2) on statistics of insanity. It is surely misleading to state
that over six million foreign-born persons in U.S.A. were returned as "in
ferior and worse according to the results of the army tests, when only
those in the white army draft were actually examined. It is open to
question whether these young men were a fair sample of the southern immi
grant groups, since large numbers and many of them no doubt of a better
type returned to Europe on the outbreak of the European war to assist
EXAMINATION OF IMMIGRANTS 291
in the political emancipation of minorities or to join the national colours.
But let it be admitted that on the tests these groups scored lower than the
average native-born or northern immigrant. What is proved thereby? It
seems to me unfair to quote figures of results without at the same time
making known certain admissions of the examining psychologists and
criticisms of military officers. Speaking generally, the immigrants from
Northern Europe were literate and English-speaking, and had resided in
U.S.A. longer than those from the south and east, many of whom were
illiterate and non-English speaking, without any experience of examinations
and subjected to a special emotional stress by the "100% American" craze
then sweeping the country. It was admitted by the psychologists that on
the whole better scores were made on the tests which, owing to the rush
conditions under which the army was raised, \vere taken as soon as possible
after the recruits entered camp by immigrants the longer their residence
in the country. As late as June, 1918, when a special experimental group
was examined, the cards of men not born in English-speaking countries
were eliminated, since it was not certain at that time that foreign-born men
did not suffer a handicap even in beta tests because of language difficulties.
The methods used to group recruits into literates and illiterates were de
termined less by careful planning than by the need of haste. Many of the
foreign-born who had picked up enough English to get along with, declared
themselves English-speaking, and w r ere permitted to take alpha tests, not
being turned over to beta unless they failed in alpha, when they could
hardly have been in a proper emotional state to take another examination
at once. Many of the groups taking beta numbered from 80-100 persons,
and, on the evidence of one commanding officer, in his camp at least it was
not always possible for the men in the back of the hall to hear the instruc
tions of the examiner, to say nothing of understanding them. Illiteracy
and broken English, which are not to be confused with lack of intelligence,
naturally militated against promotion in the army, and the rough classifica
tion of recruits made by the psychologists was considered useful by a num
ber of officers. But no responsible officer was prepared to recommend pro
motions merely on the favourable findings of the psychologists since the
tests could not measure a man s capacity for performance on the field,
which depended largely on his endurance, perseverance, courage, initiative,
and good temper qualities no less valuable in a colonist than in a soldier.
Dr. Martin also gives statistics of insanity in support of his sweeping
indictment against certain foreign immigrant groups. Harry H. Laughlin,
of the Eugenics Record Office, an expert authorised by the Congress Com
mittee on Immigration to examine statistics of social inadequacy, submitted
evidence in 1922 which showed a high percentage of insanity among the
foreign groups we are considering here, and the Irish especially the Irish!
But whether this proves a greater inherent mental instability in these groups
is another matter. It must be remembered that large numbers of these
immigrants were peasant-farmers (in the homeland, or the sons of peasant-
farmers; in U.S.A., however, they are under the necessity of adjusting
themselves to the unaccustomed and almost dehumanizing conditions endured
292 EXAMINATION OF IMMIGRANTS
by unskilled workers in its great industrial centres. It remains to be shown
whether the figures for insanity prove a national characteristic or testify to
an appalling industrial condition. And as far as Australia is concerned,
it would still have to be shown that the peasant of Europe who fails to
adjust himself to city conditions in U.S.A. would not prove a valuable asset
as a small farmer in Australia more valuable, it may be, than the city-
worker from Great Britain, who had no feeling for the soil. I have
made no investigations into the incidence of insanity in Australia, and
can make no comment on that point.
Dr. Martin refers also to the question of assimilation. It is true there
are large foreign communities in all the cities of the Eastern States, and
they have their own cultured organisations. The immigrant who has not
yet acquired English and this was not an easy matter until the last three
or four years, when extra facilities were provided buys a paper which he
can understand, and which will give him some news of * home. That
the foreign language press can perform a valuable function in assimilation
has been recognised by the American Government since the outbreak of war,
and frequent use is made of it to " get information across J to non-English
speaking groups. The important thing to remember is that the cultural
organization among the foreign-born does not retain a hold over their
children. The fact that this break with the traditional culture of the
parents weakens their authority is largely the fault of the American edu
cationalists and others, who until recently and some still persist in it
worked on the principle of Americanizing by condemning everything foreign.
In Australia labour conditions are such that it would not be possible for
large numbers of foreign immigrants to secure employment without coming
into contact with the unions, and through them directly with the Australian
community. This would make the formation of close, exclusive groups
almost impossible. It would be still easier to distribute immigrants apply
ing for land under any of the closer settlement schemes by permitting only
a certain percentage of blocks to be taken up by foreign applicants. I agree
with T. A. Ferry, the Eoyal Commissioner appointed recently by the
Queensland Government to consider the question of foreign immigration,
that it is not desirable to have a foreign group forming the majority of
inhabitants in any one district, if this can be avoided.
But assume it can be demonstrated that under any circumstances the
immigrant groups from Southern and Eastern Europe are mentally inferior
to the noble "nordics" from whom we spring. What practical policy can
we adopt to discriminate against them? When the U.S.A. first adopted the
quota system an attempt was made to regulate it from the American end.
This led to the great monthly rush of shipping, to temporarily overcrowded
conditions on Ellis Island at the beginning of each month, to pathetic
deportations, involving the break-up of families and the return to Europe
of persons who had sold their possessions there and broken their old con
nections. Even a penalty imposed on shipping companies for bringing
immigrants in excess of quota which shifted the responsibility for regula
tion on to them could not meet the situation. Public opinion at home and
abroad forced a complete change in administrative method. A complicated
EXAMINATION OF IMMIGRANTS 293
system to be controlled by consular officers abroad was evolved, so that no
visas in excess of quota would be granted. The Australian Government
has stated definitely that without a consular service it is impossible to adopt
a similar device for Australia. Instead a series of gentlemen s agreements
have been made with some foreign Governments, who undertake to allow the
emigration of their nationals to Australia only under certain conditions
(Italy), or up to a limited number (Malta, Jugo-Slavia, etc.). The quota
basis of some of these agreements is quite arbitrary, and, of course, cannot
be rigidly enforced. The Immigration Amendment Act, 1924, is evidence
of the Government s inability to devise an effective and definite scheme of
regulation. This Act has not been put in force, but it provides that the
Governor-General may by proclamation prohibit " either wholly or in excess
of specified numerical limits, and either permanently or for a specified
period, the immigration of aliens of any specified nationality, race, class,
or occupation on certain economic grounds, or " because the persons specified
in the proclamation are, in his opinion, unsuitable for admission into the
Commonwealth, or because they are deemed unlikely to become readily
assimilated, or to assume the duties and responsibilities of Australian
citizenship within a reasonable time after their entry." It is highly im
probable that such a dangerous power will ever be assumed, but if under
pressure from public prejudice any nationality were specified as undesirable
we would almost certainly be involved in foreign complications not pleasant
t to contemplate. Great difficulty also lies in the way of individual selection.
All countries of immigration exercise the right to reject, at their frontiers,
applicants for admission who are suffering from certain physical or mental
infirmities. But whatever sovereign rights a State may claim in this matter
there is no doubt that international opinion recognizes certain human rights
possessed by migrants, and if an elaborate medical and psychological
examination is to be adopted of so stringent a character as to lead to
large-scale rejections, it will have to be administered at the centres of
emigration. This, of course, is specially true where these centres are at a
great distance from the country of immigration. This course has already
been adopted by the Australian and Canadian Governments under their
assisted immigration schemes, a number of medical referees having been
appointed in Great Britain for the purpose. On a wider scale it has re
cently been adopted by U.S.A., a special officer being attached to con
sulates abroad to issue immigration certificates which are distinct from
visas to applicants for admission to that country who satisfactorily pass
certain examinations required of them. But this is a very elaborate de
vice, for which a numerous and highly trained staff on foreign service is
required. This question of individual selection could best be dealt with by
an international authority. The international health organisation of the
League of Nations in co-operation with the Migration Department of the
International Labour Office should be able to administer an international
scheme of this kind very satisfactorily. Whether the Governments con
cerned would authorize it to do so is another matter. I do not think it neces
sary to comment on the proposal that British immigrants should be sub
jected to a test for emotional stability, since it is not likely to be adopted.
294 RESEARCHES AND REPORTS
1 The close scrutiny of all foreign immigrants by skilled psychiatrists,
presumably merely means a line examination, but extremists in U.S.A. have
suggested that immigrants should be registered, and, for a period of time
after admission, kept under surveillance. It is highly improbable that
Australian public opinion would allow such a system of espionage which
would, moreover, militate seriously against the desired assimilation of
foreign groups, who would thereby be deprived of security of domicile. For
a similar reason I oppose the suggestion to deport insane and mentally
deficient immigrants who have been in the country less than five years. Let
a satisfactory medical and psychological examination be made at the centres
of emigration, if such a course is considered necessary, and then shift the
cost of subsequent insanity presumably mental deficiency would be detected
by the examiners on to the countries of immigration. This may help the
community to realise that immigrants have rights as well as obligations in
the difficult process of adjustment and assimilation. *
RESEARCHES AND REPORTS.
INDUSTRIAL PSYCHOLOGY, A SHORT BIBLIOGRAPHY.
By R. Simmat, B.A., Science Research Scholar in Psychology, University
of Sydney.
The first applications of Psychology to industrial problems were made
by Professor Muensterberg, of Harvard. The publication of his work,
" Psychology and Industrial Efficiency" in 1913, laid the corner stone of
"Vocational Selection." Since then many new psychological aspects of
industrial problems have been opened up. At present the main divisions
of the field are as follows:
Vocational Psychology. By this is meant the psychological study
of individuals with reference to the requirements of different vocations,
with the object of guiding individuals into vocations for which their endow
ments fit them.
Motion Study. This requires, first, an analysis of the different
movements made by a worker, and then the elimination of unnecessary
movements for the purpose of lessening fatigue and increasing efficiency.
Fatigue Study. A wider aspect than the former field is involved
here, since the duration of working hours, rest pauses, postures of the
worker, and physical conditions generally are enquired into both for the
betterment of working conditions as well as from the standpoint of
increased production.
Salesmanship and Advertising. This study attempts to analyse the
situations which occur in making a sale, or in making known a product
to the general public. Many of the general principles of psychology are
involved, but, in addition, particular aspects of research in these directions
are also included.
Psychology of Management. This field lays emphasis on the import
ance of understanding the general motivation of the worker, which is often
* See Senate Documents, 66th Congress, 3rd Session, 1920-21, Report of
Division of Psychology, for discussion of U.S.A. Army Tests.
RESEARCHES AND REPORTS 295
obscured by the modern emphasis upon the "economic urge." Such an
understanding- of the personality of the worker assists in the application
of tactful measures in place of maintaining an uncompromising opposition
to the workers claims and desires.
The following texts form a brief bibliography which may prove a
useful introduction to those seeking a knowledge of the subject of Indus
trial Psychology and its problems. Books marked with an asterisk are
specially recommended.
GENERAL INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOGY.
*Woodworth, R. S. "Psychology: A Study of Mental Life." (Lon
don, Methuen, 1922. 8/6.)
Seashore, C. S. "Introduction to Psychology." (London, MacMillan,
1923. 10/6.)
MeDougall, W. "Outlines of Psychology." (London, Methuen, 1923.
W-.)
*Terman, L. M. "The Measurement of Intelligence." (London,
Harrap, 1919. 7/6.)
INTRODUCTIONS TO INDUSTRIAL PSYCHOLOGY.
Drever, J. "The Psychology of Industry." (London, Methuen, 1921.
5/-.)
*Myers, C. S. "Mind and Work." (London, University of London
Press, 1920. 3/6.)
Muscio, B. "Lectures on Industrial Psychology." (London, Rout-
ledge, 1917. 6/6.)
Muscio, B. Editor, "Lectures on Industrial Administration." (Lon
don, Pitman, 1920. 6/-.)
VOCATIONAL SELECTION.
Hollingworth, H. L. "Vocational Psychology." (London, Appleton,
1916. 12/6.)
*Link, H. C." Employment Psychology." (New York, MacMillan,
1919. 12/-.)
Muensterberg, H. "Psychology and Industrial Efficiency." (London,
Constable, 1913. 14/-.)
MOTION STUDY.
Gilbreth, F. B. "Motion Study." (London, Constable, 1911. 9/6.)
*Gilbreth, F. B. "Applied Motion Study." (London, Sturgis and
Walton, 1917. 8/6.)
*(For further bibliography see Eric Farmer, "Time and Motion
Study, No. 14 of the Publications of the National Fatigue Research
Board. Price 2/6.)
THE PSYCHOLOGY OF MANAGEMENT.
*Fitt, A. B. "The Human Instincts in Business." (Sydney, Lothian
Publishing Co., 1922. 3/6.)
Gilbreth, L. M. "The Psychology of Management." (London, Pit
man, 1914. 7/6.)
*Tead, O." Instincts in Industry." (London, Constable, 1918, 10/6.)
296 REVIEWS
* Watts, F. "An Introduction to the Psychological Problems of In
dustry." (London, Allen and Unwin, 1921. 12/6.)
Dickinson, Z. C. "Economic Motives." (Cambridge, Harvard Uni
versity Press, 1922.)
Tor Fatigue, Advertising, and Salesmanship, see general Text-books.
MAGAZINES.
*" Journal of the National Institute of Industrial Psychology." (Lon
don, 1 per annum.)
Eeports of the National Fatigue Research Board. (H.M. Press, Lon
don.) (No. 12 of these contains a bibliography of "Vocational Guid
ance," by B. Muscio.)
"Journal of Applied Psychology." (Chandler, Worcester, Mass. 4/-
per annum.)
"Die Praktisehe Psychologie. " (Hirzel, Leipzig, 20 marks per annum.)
REVIEWS AND NOTICES OF BOOKS.
ECCLESIASTES AND THE EAELY GEEEK WISDOM LITERATURE.
By H. Ranston, Litt.D. Epworth Press, London, 1925. 6/- net.
Among the ancient Hebrews there arose a class of literature known as
Holcmah, or Wisdom nt-rature, composed of homely saws, shrewd obse.va-
tions on human life, and general maxims as to conduct in prosperity and
adversity. Among the books of this class that of Ecelesiastes (Koheleth)
arrests attention, because of its difference of tone. This Hebrew Omar
Khayyam contemplates man as the victim of an unintelligible order. He is
oppressed by the limitations of human life, the inability of man to
struggle against destiny, and the futility of all endeavour, which can pro
duce nothing of permanent worth. To the recurrent refrain, "vanity of
vanities ; all is vanity, he utters one long wail over the hapless lot of
mortals. Life is burdened with monotony; old age comes cheerless and
without the zest of pleasure. Wisdom brings sorrow, while the wise man
dieth even as the fool. Therefore, Carpe diem. : "I commended mirth,
because a man hath no better thing under the sun than to eat and to
drink and to be merry." Yet the author was no sensualist. He inculcates
conjugal felicity, and the avoidance of extremes in both vice and virtue.
He would regulate enjoyment and encourage activity, even despite its
resultlessness. And his deep pessimism keeps company with a belief in
God. But his faith achieves no victory. God s plans are incomprehen
sible, and therefore afford no guide for life. As for human destiny,
* man hath no pre-eminence above the beasts. All go unto one place. A
comfortless place indeed is this realm of death : The dead know not
anything. Neither have they any more a reward. As well their love as
their hatred and their envy, is now perished. " " There is no work nor
device, nor knowledge, nor wisdom in Sheol. "
Many theories have been put forward to account for this book and
its presence in the Hebrew Scriptures. Some regard it as a genuine pro
duct of native Semitic Wisdom. But most scholars admit the influence of
Hellenic thought, either generally, or particularly that of Heraclitus, or
REVIEWS 297
the Stoics and Epicureans. A recent thorough investigation of the
problem is Dr. Eanston s Ecclesiastes and the Early Greek Wisdom
Literature," in which he asserts that Koheleth is not a "native Hebrew
spirit. He has nothing of that sense of divine fellowship which ever
characterised the O.T. saint. No wonder that many of his own people, the
most optimistic race in history, did not like his book, and that the author
of the Boole of Wisdom set himself to correct him." The words: "He
tested and sought out and set in order many proverbs" suggested to Ean-
ston an examination of the early Greek gnomic philosophy between Homer
and Aeschylus. A careful comparison, with plentiful citations, is made
between the sentiments of Koheleth and those of Theognis, Hesiod, Pho-
kylides, Xenophanes, Archilochus, Simonides of Ceos, and Solon. Thus as
Koheleth sees good and evil perplexingly intertwined and man s ignorance
and helplessness in regard to the future, so Theognis, "Nothing is denned
by Deity for mortals, nor the road in which a man must go to please the
Immortals." "No man toils, knowing within his heart whether the issue
be good or ill. Our thoughts are vain ; we know nothing ; the gods accom
plish all things according to their own mind," or " Tis most difficult to
know the end of a matter undone, how God will bring it to pass. Gloom
is spread over it; before the future comes to be the issues of helplessness
are not intelligible to mortals." Eanston s conclusion is that "Theognis
was the main source of the foreign aphorisms of Koheleth s book." This
scholarly New Zealand work will be welcomed by readers of Koheleth.
Eanston s thesis is ably maintained, and must be reckoned with in future
study of the Hebrew Wisdom literature and of the relations between
Hebraism and Hellenism. S. Angus.
STUDIES IN THE HISTOEY OF IDEAS. Edited by the Department of
Philosophy of Columbia University. Vol. II. New York, Columbia
University Press, 1925. $3.00.
As we might expect of a product of Columbia, this volume tends to
show what a lively interest in the history of philosophy can directly do
towards the solution of contemporary problems.
In "The Socratic Dialogues of Plato" Professor Dewey urges that
we apply to these early dialogues the same method of interpretation that
has recently been adopted with the later. Indeed, he holds, the mere
application of psychology to Platonic criticism should discredit the view that
even in the earlier dialogues Plato is out to celebrate Socrates and his vic
tories over bygone Sophists. Eather is he there using these Sophists as
figureheads for his own rivals, certain contemporary schools of
his earlier period, in particular the naturalistic Cynics and the
humanistic Cyrenaics. The point is that these are Socratic schools,
and in depicting the refutation of their symbolic exponents by Soc
rates (which is as chronologically possible a situation as let us say
that of the Parmenides), Plato is trying to show that he alone stands for
the true Socratic tradition, while the professed successors of Socrates do
but divide the crumbs that fall from the Master s table. How otherwise
are we to account for the spectacle of Socrates, in these dialogues,
298 REVIEWS
elaborately refuting typical Socratic arguments? The two partial views of
virtue referred to the naturalistic, with its emphasis on habituation based
on natural aptitudes; the humanistic, with its insistence on the rational
character of virtue can only be combined in a single coherent doctrine if
brought under the conception of a knowledge of the good, or wisdom. That
subsumption takes place in the practical realm of politics. So when it is
said that virtue is knowledge, it must be understood that this is the
vicarious knowledge of the rulers, under whose direction virtue, in the
great mass of its bearers, will still, as it must, be formed on a basis of
right opinion and habituation. I would remark that in view of much con
temporary clap-trap about the need for assigning the individual to the place
for which he is naturally fitted by his "individuality," it is refreshing
to be reminded that in Plato s Republic, so freely cited in support of this,
the moral is rather that, save under the personal rule of philosophers, such
schemes can only end in disaster.
Then Professor McClure argues that "The Theme of Plato s Re
public" is the coincidence of virtue with happiness, making in support a
useful analysis of the structure of the dialogue. Nowhere in it, he says,
is justice divorced from interest. On this topic the author seems to me,
when in dealing with Thrasymachus he takes the essence of Socrates reply
to be that an art is always in the interest of ends beyond itself, to fail to
allow for the situation created by Thrasymachus midway revision of hia
argument ; his new position being, briefly, that the proposition, A. s promo
tion of B. s interest is just, implies and is implied by, B. is stronger than A.
There is now no question of the interest of the stronger being sought or
not by the art of the stronger; the weaker is already promoting it by his
art or habit of "justice."
Among the modern studies Professor Balz s "Dualism in Cartesian
Psychology and Epistemology is remarkable for its thoroughness. He
finds the key to Descartes development from his position in the "Rules"
to the views of the l Discourse, " " Meditations, and Principles in the
emergence of the two-substance doctrine. This is taken to explain how-
Descartes incurs the difficulties of the attempt to treat sense and imagina
tion, viewed in his earlier work as caused but cognizable, later on as caused
and yet cognitive. A possible source of confusion is the author s identifica
tion (v. p. 146) of things with objects. Objective existence in Descartes
means, of course, always intentional existence.
In an equally solid contribution on "Empiricism and Epistomology in
David Hume," Professor Lamprecht develops, in detailed reference to
Hume s writings, the view, now finding increasing acceptance, according to
which Hume s subjectivist and psychologistic tendencies are only acciden
tal to his empiricism, and indeed are fundamentally at variance with it.
Two of the studies, "A Note on the Interpretation of German
Idealism" (H. L. Friess) and "The Significance of Benjamin Franklin s
Moral Philosophy" (H. W. Schneider), are attempts to interpret their
philosophers rather by their contemporary cultural environment than by
doctrinal antecedents. The latter of these essays may specially interest
REVIEWS 299
readers in this part of the world in contending that what explains Franklin
is not a "Puritan" tradition, but the conditions of a pioneer community.
Franklin s "business" ethics are disciplinary, a morality of means. The
mistake of the usual (derogatory) estimate of them is that it begins by
setting them in comparison with ethics of ends or ideals. The fair com
parison would rather be with some other disciplinary ethics, e.g., the Chris
tian. "The contrast between the Yankee and the Christian types of
character is familiar enough." Dr. Schneider admits, however, that
humility figured on Franklin s original list of virtues.
The book would make an excellent basis for discussions parallel to a
course on history of philosophy. From this point of view, the only note
worthy omission is Aristotle. Professor Montague, however, is perhaps
more in the spirit of the volume in once more setting a modern problem
in a new light by the application of Aristotelian conceptions. In "The
Missing Link in the Case for Utilitarianism" he seeks to solve Mill s
difficulty in establishing distinctions of quality among pleasures by the use
of the concept of potentiality (suggested by Mill s theory of matter)
together with that of dimensionality. Virtue is a permanent potentiality,
of which happiness occurs as the successive actualizations. Virtue, then,
has a value not different in kind from, but immeasurably greater in quantity
than that of happiness, as in the relation of a sphere to its circular cross-
sections. Is there not a similar suggestion in Mill s oft-scouted argument
in the ethical sphere itself: Visible: seen:: audible: heard:: desirable:
desired?
The paper of W. F. Cooley, on The Lure of Metaphysical Simplicity
should disturb the complacency of some scientists who think they are not
metaphysicians. Quotation must suffice here. "Unity signifies properly
either the first integer in the number series, or else something which, while
composite, is yet single through its structural organization around some
central point or purpose. Again, Potency and actuality may reasonably
be regarded as the deeper metaphysical account of the more obvious phases
known as simplicity and complexity. . . . The lower pole most adequate
for thought is potency, and potency conceived as underlying even the most
elementary mechanism. Speculatively, we have at least an equal right to
conceive of existence as intensively rich that is, capable, even when with
out mechanical structure, of various forms of function while empirically
perhaps the most surprising thing about the new physics is its great enlarge
ment of the field of potency, the iron atom, for example, being now endowed
with a hundred or more possible forms of activity. If the radical mechanist
insists that these must be due to mechanical complexities, it is because his
faith is functioning rather than his facts.
W. Anderson.
THE MYSTERY RELIGIONS AND CHRISTIANITY: A Study of the
Religious Background of Early Christianity. London: John Murray,
1925. Pp. xvi., 357.
The recent volume of Dr. Angus* on the Mystery Religions traverses
an already well-trodden field, but the path taken is a new one. The
frook exhibits no marked apologetic or polemical bias. It is not written
300 REVIEWS
to prove that Christianity in the Eoman Empire was little influenced by the
Mystery Religions nor, on the other hand, to show that it was merely a
rechauffe of these ubiquitous cults. Again, it is not a mere description of
the individual Mysteries, or all of them together, although it does include
a comprehensive survey, an ensemble picture, so to speak, marked by clarity
of outline and precision of detail. It is, rather, a successful attempt to
explain why the Mystery Religions almost succeeded in conquering the
Roman Empire, and yet in the end fell before the victorious march of
Christianity. Attention to this dominating problem gives unity to the book
and sustains the reader s interest to the end.
In a chapter which admirably summarizes the political and religious
conditions under which Christianity and the Mystery Religions met for
their death-grapple, Dr. Angus discusses "the historical crises of the
Greeco-Roman world in their bearing" upon his subject. The bankruptcy
of Greek religion and the disintegrating influence of Greek philosophy, the
new cosmopolitanism which followed in the steps of Alexander, the contribu
tion of the Jews to ancient thinking, and the results of Rome s contacts
with the East are rapidly sketched. Two chapters then picture the nature
of a Mystery Religion. The first, "What is a Mystery Religion?" de
scribes it as a " system of religious symbolism," a "sacramental drama,"
a "religion of redemption," an " eschatological, " a "personal," and also
a "cosmic religion." The second portrays and analyzes the various rites
and ceremonies of the Mystery initiations and what they offered to their
votaries, emphasizing "the three stages" common to all of the Mystery
cults, (1) preparation and probation, (2) initiation and communion, and
(3) epopteia and blessedness.
In two further chapters Dr. Angus returns to the subject already sum
marily surveyed in the opening chapter, the historical conditions which
made the spread of the Mystery Religions possible. Under the general
title, "The Appeal of the Mystery Religions," he rehearses (a) the "con
ditions favourable to the spread of the Mysteries," and (b) "the religious
needs of the Grseeo-Roman world and their symptoms." The unification
of mankind by Alexander and the Romans, the powerful reflex action of
the Orient upon the Occident, the collapse of the Polls and the aristocratic
classes, the growth of the influence of the common people, the preparatory
development of Orphism, the spread of Astralism, and the resurgence of
Chthonism were the conditions which contributed to the spread of syn
cretism and individualism, the development of a, new sense of sin and failure,
a universal longing for salvation, a yearning for immortality, and the rise
of asceticism and private religious associations epoch-making in character
and extent.
The final pair of chapters gives the reasons for the ultimate success
of Christianity, so far as it was a matter of the competition of cults,
exhibiting the defects of the Mysteries and the outstanding merits and the
chief weapons of propaganda which gave the final victory to Christianity.
The defects which defeated the Mysteries were their atavism to primitive
naturalism, their union with the pseudo-religion, Magic, and with the
pseudo-science, Astrology, the extreme individualistic-mystic types of reli-
REVIEWS 301
gion which they fostered, and their vagueness and theological weakness.
Christianity won because of its intolerance, that is, its refusal to com
promise its fundamental convictions, because of its genuine universality,
because of the new religious force in Christian "faith," because of its
possession of an accessible and appealing religious document, the Bible,
because of its satisfying message for the widespread sorrows of the ancient
world, and because in Jesus it had an unique historical and personal centre.
Dr. Angus purpose and plan enable him to include in a comprehensive
view all the movements which partake of the nature of a Mystery Religion.
Not only Isis and Serapis, Cybele and Attis, Mithra, Dea Syria, and other
Oriental cults, Orphism, the Eleusinia, and other Greek and Hellenistic
Mysteries, but also Hermetism and Gnosticism are among the materials
from which he draws. The state religions of the Greek and Eoman cities
also come into the survey, for it was their failure to satisfy men s moral
and religious needs tbfat made the success of the Mystery Religions inevit
able. The book, therefore, becomes in effect a discussion of the whole
moral and religious environment of Early Christianity, thus notably supple
menting and enlarging the excellent but briefer discussions of the author s
Environment of Early Christianity.
The restriction of the subject matter to the religious needs of the
GraBco-Roman world and to the mystical elements of religion as seen in the
Mysteries leads to the exclusion or cursory treatment of the other social,
especially the economic, factors which contributed to the victory of Chris
tianity. More attention is of necessity given to mysticism than to morals.
The ethical and social appeal inhering in the Christian apocalyptic message
of the imminent Kingdom of Righteousness, a message that spoke straight
to the heart of a world that for millennia had been longing and looking
for a righteous King to be sent by God, is not adequately subsumed under
the caption of a "personal ethical ideal" (p. 313). In other words, the
book does not attempt to give a complete answer to the question, Why did
Christianity prevail?" But in the presence of the superabundance of
materials it offers one is ungrateful to speak of sins of omission.
The title of the book might lead one to expect a fuller treatment of
one moot problem in the field of New Testament study, that is the influence
of the Mysteries on Primitive Christianity. Dr. Angus believes that Paul
was not directly affected by any of the Mysteries and, although he must
have been familiar with the main religious ideas of the Mystery cults and
touched by the mysticism that was "in the air," his unique "faith-
mysticism" was the product of his own religious experience (p. 295 f.).
Likewise the numerous allusions to matters in which the conquered cults
took revenge on the conqueror by effecting subtle changes in Christianity
herself might have been summed up in a chapter which would have been
a valuable contribution to the discussion of the permanent and the passing
in Christian faith and practice. A much fuller discussion of the problem
of Paul and of the whole subject of Christianity s debt for good and ill
to the Mystery Religions from a writer of such comprehensive familiarity
with the sources and sound judgment would have been most welcome.
302 REVIEWS
Not the least of the strong points of the treatment is its close contact
with the original sources. Professor Angus is an adept at fitting in the
right phrase from the vast literature his industrious reading has covered
to illumine the exact meaning he wishes to convey. Every page, therefore,
bristles with allusions to ancient and modern authors. The conclusions are
independently formed on the basis of the ancient evidence, which is liberally
supplied for the reader s satisfaction.
The long bibliographies of ancient and modern writers, while denomin
ated only selective and not exhaustive, are certainly the most complete
available and add greatly to the worth of the book. The excellent index
of authors, both ancient and modern, enhances its usefulness to the student.
One might wish a fuller index of subjects, but the complete analysis of
the argument given in the table of contents goes far to atone for its
lacunae. The small number of slips in proof-reading is remarkable in a
volume so large and containing such a mass of technical material.
It is a fascinating world through which Professor Angus guides us,
a very modern world in its cosmopolitanism, its love of novelties, its endless
variety of cults, its social evils, and its thirst for religious certainty. We
can but be deeply grateful for the illuminating comment of an interpreter
who knows this ancient world intimately and understands how to make
it live again before our eyes.
Chester C. McCown (Pacific School of Eeligion,
Berkeley, California, U.S.A.)
THE PHILOSOPHY OF EMILE BOUTEOUX. By Lucy S. Crawford,
Ph.D., Professor of Philosophy in Sweet Briar College, Virginia, New
York: Longmans. (Cornell Studies in Philosophy, No. 16.)
This book of 153 pages reaches page 92 before dealing with Boutroux s
philosophy, thus giving us precisely 61 pages on that master mind who
gives the title to the book. Indeed, it is a thesis on modern French
Idealism from Maine de Biran to Boutroux, and the author appears to be
unaware that some works already covering this ground in English were
published some years before her own appeared. No mention, however, is
made of the London book on the same subject, not even in the bibliography.
Miss Stebbing s little volume on Prugmatism and French Voluntarism (pub
lished ten years previously) is, like Modern French Philosophy, either
ignored by, or admitted by, the author. These facts make one surprised.
Another quaint omission, but one which is perhaps less serious, is Dwel-
shauvers book in French on the psychologists of the same period published
in 1920. Parodi s book, "La Philosophic Contemporaine, is cited in
the bibliography. The books on the period are not well known to the author,
while the Bibliography of the writers themselves is poorly done, even the
Boutroux section is not what it might be. Buggiero s Modern Philosophy
has been referred to. The section of this Italian work which is devoted
to French Philosophy is unsympathetic and unreliable, as it presents and
criticises French Philosophy from the standpoint of Italian work. Stimulat
ing and scathing as it is, it is not a good history, and hardly a book to be
relied on so much by a writer who has herself covered the ground of reading.
REVIEWS 303
The work is well documented with scholarly footnotes and quotations,
and what has been done is quite well done. Boutroux has been mastered,
but if the attempt is made to place Boutroux in his environment it must
be done thoroughly by a discussion of the Eclectics, Positivists, as well as
Maine de Biran, the Traditionalists, and the later lines of development,
first in Vacherot, Taine, and Kenan; secondly, in nee-Kantianism, in
Cournot, and the great Eenouvier; thirdly, in the neo-idealistic succession
of Bavaisson, Lachelier, Fouillee, Guyau, Bergson, and BlondeL Cournot is
treated, but Eenouvier is given an inadequate place, while Fouillee, Bergson,
and Blondel are apologised for by their absence.
The book falls between two stools, it is neither a mere study of
Boutroux nor an adequate work on modern French philosophy, even
Idealism. We have 61 pages on Boutroux and 92 on French Idealism in
the nineteenth century. It will not do. The treatment is too sectional,
and cannot be done otherwise in such small compass save by a skilled
surgeon who can lay bare the whole tendons of idealist thought. Here
only certain organs have been examined, and the diagnosis is incomplete.
Either the work should have been mainly devoted to Boutroux (which it is
not), or kept until an adequate survey of French Idealism could have been
written (including Eenouvier, and, of course, Fouillee, both of whom wrote
a great many volumes, which may be the reason for their being discounted).
There are some careless misprints in the bibliography which makes the
reader doubtful again whether the author really knows the literature of the
period adequately. With the exposition of Boutroux in the 61 pages we
have no quarrel, and this shows the author can do good work, within these
limits. Heavy and scholarly footnotes in several languages give the book
a stately appearance, but it will not compensate for the exhibition of the
figure of Boutroux against a canvas which is huge but only half -painted.
J. Alexander Gunn.
PEINCIPLES OF PSYCHOLOGY. J. R. Kantor. Alfred A. Knopf,
New York, 1924.
In general, accounts of psychological theory have levied contributions
upon two main fields, the analytic and comparative, and their derivatives.
The former investigates a process as it manifests itself in individuals under
laboratory experimental conditions; the second method is non-laboratory
and observational, and generally tends to develop a genetic approach. A
further method, the psycho-analytic, combines some of the features of both
of these. Despite disagreements, a considerable body of classified know
ledge has been built up, progress having been attained by modifications of
older theories.
Kantor, in his Principles, however, adopts a Cartesian standpoint ;
taking up a naive attitude, he proceeds to his own general classification of
psychological phenomena, and almost completely sweeps aside existing
forms; thus his work is rather in the nature of a recasting of the science.
While such a procedure is traditional in philosophical systems, the experi
ment is somewhat novel in its application to the daughter science, for even
304 REVIEWS
the "heresies" of Watsonian behaviourism retain much of the traditional
groundwork. While philosophy must be considered largely as a discipline
in method, the main business of psychology is to present a scientific content,
and the greater part of this, despite the differing camps into which those
who profess this subject have of late been gathered, is still current medium.
One disadvantage under which this critique, as well as any other wholesale
attempt at remodelling our science must labour, is to draw upon itself the
hostility of the group. Again, its adoption by any considerable number
would prevent any communal approach at solving psychological problems on
account of its new nomenclature, and would render present confusion worse
confounded.
He begins by an insistence on the principle of organismic behaviour,
which involves the activity of the whole organism, or, in the case of the
human being, the whole personality in any expression of behaviour. Such
reactions or forms of behaviour may be appropriately divided into segments,
which do not necessarily imply the Brentanian triad of cognition, affection
and conation, but possibly only one of these. Thus for him, association,
feeling, or attention are as much a complete activity response as are the
factors of awareness, with its concomitants of feeling tone and will
response for the traditional psychologist.
Three levels of activity are distinguished which appear to follow the
neural correlates of spinal, thalamic, and cerebral activities, but his terms
for these are entirely novel. Activities of the first level are styled by him
f oundational types, " and the next comprise forms of "basic reactions. M
The latter, despite Kantor s insistence on their acquired nature, conform in
the main to the traditional list of instincts formulated by McDougall. Thus,
writes Kantor, we may for illustrative purposes isolate the following: Pro
tective, manipulatory, exhibitive, approbative, recessive, acquisitive re
actions, etc., all of which might, without forcing, be cheerfully conceded by
all moderate psychological thinkers. Even Kantor s insistence upon the
acquired nature of such reactions does not invalidate the innateness of such
dispositions, while even McDougall himself, the recognised champion of the
latter aspect, conceded the educability of such dispositions in his first
formulation of the doctrine of instincts. The final level is denominated
"societal conduct," which is distinctively human and exceedingly com
plex. Such a level by no means implies the constant influences of a social
agent upon the subject, but rather the general influence of social guid
ance in shaping the situations by which the individual is surrounded. Such
reactions comprise four main types: (a) Suprabasic Forms, which develop
from basic forms, and which appear to include what is generally understood
by psychologists as sentiments and complexes; (b) Contingential Forms,
which appear to be responses to problem situations; (c) Cultural Eeactions,
which are perhaps more directly societary than the others, since they com
prise such reactions as conformity to customs, conventions, fashions, etc.,
and the acceptance of institutions, the accounts of tradition, and the data
of sciences; and (d) Idiosyncratic Eeactions, which refer to peculiar and
individual modes of behaviour to various stimuli.
REVIEWS 305
The major portion of the work (chapters viii.-xv.) is devoted to a treat
ment of the traditional psychological phenomena, but from a definitely
Kantorian viewpoint in many cases. Thus, in reference to association,
there is given a detailed classification of forms that are essentially his own,
according to the various combinations of settings, " " stimuli, and
"reactions." In volitional conduct such forms generally considered as
ideo-motor, are classified by him as voluntary, and the term habit is
stretched to include not merely motor responses, but all forms of mental
mneme, such as memories, sentiments, complexes, etc.
Kanto s treatise is difficult to read, and is lacking in detailed illustra
tive examples, coins new terms, which add still further to his somewhat
forbidding presentation. While there can be no objection to such as are
absolutely essential, surely such forms as suprabasic, " misreaction, "
" f oundational, "societal," or " contingential ; require justification be
fore their general acceptance.
The "Principles" stand as an interesting attempt to recast the
science of psychology. That it is a fully adequate one remains for the
future to decide. Its probable effect will be to provide a critique for
certain current concepts, or to correct certain inadequacies of present classi
fication or connotation. If it accomplish this, it will have rendered an
invaluable service. It is the opinion of this reviewer that, except for a
few initiates, it will never replace the current psychological outlook as
represented in modern texts.
A. H. Martin.
DIE LEBENSPSYCHOLOGIE VON MULLEB-FEEIENFELS. By Paul
Fe]dkeller. Beprinted from Die Akademie, Erlangen, 1924.
Miiller-Freienfels belongs to the "democratic" type of thinker (Locke
and Hume to James, Vaihinger, Ostwald), as opposed to the "aristocratic"
type (Plato and Plotinus to Hegel and Nietzsche). The author asserts
further that no other "Forscher, " living or dead, has investigated so
thoroughly the irrationality of the thought-process, and that his capacity
for this task far surpasses that of James and Bergson. M.-F. s Psychology
is an * Einstellungs psychology as opposed to any Vorstellungs
psychology, and in general to all "Intellectualism." The springs of life
and thought are to be sought for in the instincts and dispositions, and not
in " vorstellungen. " His psychology is "impressionistic," "vital-realis
tic," and " aktivistic. " Dr. Feldkeller s summary is too condensed, and
perhaps over-eulogistic. But M.-F. s works (Psychology of Art, 1920; Out
line of a " Lebenspsychologie, " 1916-24; Philosophy of Individuality, 1923)
are still unknown to most English students of philosophy.
Editor.
(1) THE MEASUEED JUDGMENTS OF PEACTICAL MEN IN THE
WOOL TEADE. Henry Binns. (2) A COMPAEISON OF VISUAL
AND TACTUAL JUDGMENT. H. Binns and H. S. Eaper. (Eeprints
from the "Wool Eecord and Textile World.").
These two papers provide an account of some experiments in applied
psychology in reference to the wool trade; they are thus of direct interest
306 REVIEWS
to Australian readers. The former is an experiment by means of the
"order of merit method/ to demonstrate the value of subjective opinion ia
grading different qualities of textiles. The second paper gives details of
an experiment in visual and tactual discrimination, the material being very
fine wires of (27-36) standard gauge. The capacities thus measured appear
to depend originally upon innate capacity, which may be increased by gene
ral training in these directions.
A. H. Martin
PHYSICO-CHEMICAL EVOLUTION. By Charles E. Guye, Professor of
Physics at the University of Geneva. Translated by J. B. Clarke. Pp.
xii.-172. Price 6/-. Methuen & Co., London.
The Physicist-cum-Philosopher is apt to be regarded as a strange, and
even dangerous, animal by both philosophers and physicists, but the hardy
spirit common to all pioneers sustains Professor Guye in his stout attempt
to discover a monistic philosophy. The first of his three essays is devoted
to the possibility of a unification of all ths sciences on lines suggested by
the unification of space and time in the theories of Einstein and Minkow-
ski. A clear exposition is given in the second essay of the fundamental
bearing of the Calculus of Probabilities on Physico-chemical phenomena,
and on the real significance of Carnot s Principle. With the ground thus
cleared, the author proceeds in the last essay to an interesting discussion
of the possible ways of accounting for Life and Thought in a scheme which
also includes physico-chemical phenomena. In the possibility of deducing
the ordinary laws of the latter as the statistical results of an infinite variety
of different possible laws attaching to the ultimate particles of matter, he
sees the existence of laws essentially more general than the statistical ones
to which they give rise. He thus arrives at an outline of a monistic
philosophy, in which the underlying idea is that the two ultimate con
stituents of all matter, namely, the electron and the proton, are not com
pletely defined by the conceptions of number, space, time, and matter,
which suffice to express physico-chemical phenomena, but that with these
two elements must also be associated some other conception. In other
words, the electron or proton (or both) contains the element of life in
itself. This book shows the usual Gallic clarity of thought and expres
sion, and (to borrow one of its phrases), it effectively illustrates "the
powerful philosophic fertility of the new statistical conception of Carnot s
Principle."
V. A. Bailey.
EMPLOYMENT RELATIONS AND THE BASIC WAGE: Lectures and
Papers Published in connection with the Pitt Cobbett Foundation, 1925.
Pp. 48. University of Tasmania. I/.
The late Professor Pitt Cobbett, of Sydney University, left the sum of
5,000 as a bequest for the purpose of promoting better relations between
employers and employees. The bequest was bestowed upon the University
of Tasmania, which accordingly requires, inter alia, that a Lecturer shall
undertake annually a certain number of public lectures, with this object
in view. This booklet contains a reprint of Mr. Baldwin s famous speech
REVIEWS 307
on the Evolution of Industry, and addresses by Mr. Booth, of Cadbury-
Fry-Pascall, Limited, and Mr. Baker, of the Electrolytic Zinc Works, show
ing how these two firms endeavour in various ways to foster harmonious
relationship between "masters and men," but the greater part of it con
sists of fairly full reports of the Pitt Cobbett Lectures for 1925, delivered
by Professor J. B. Brigden. They are largely based upon the report of
the recent Economic Commission on the Queensland Basic Wage, of which
Professor Brigden was a member. The lectures deal with wages and their
regulation, arbitration, capitalism, and similar subjects; the wording is
simple, and the ideas are clearly expressed; by arousing interest in their
subject and spreading knowledge concerning it they should do much to
promote the object for which they were given.
F. C. Benham.
A STUDY OF PRACTICAL ABILITY. By Margaret McFarlane, B.A.,
Ph.D. Monograph Supplement, No. 8. Cambridge Univ. Press, 1925.
Price 7/-.
A most striking feature of modern psychology and modern life is the
drive against intellectualism. No doubt there is justification for some
change in attitude; the old psychology tended unduly to ignore the animal
aspects of our nature, and to neglect the heritage handed down to us by the
old Adam. But is not the reaction being overdone? Are we not witness
ing a rush to anti-intellectualism and emotionalism as dangerous as, if not
more dangerous than, the older absorption in "things of the mind"?
In this mental atmosphere it was to be expected that the intelligence
tests of Binet and his imitators would not remain in undisputed possession
of the field. For the attention to the nature of intelligence aroused by
these tests has not resulted in any unanimity as to what really constitutes
intelligence. Is it unitary, as so many maintain, or binary, as Spearman
and his followers believe? Further, the linguistic character of so many of
the tests and the narrow field of aptitudes that they explore have led to
the introduction of other kinds of tests, for some investigators 1 have realised
that children who fail in the intelligence tests may nevertheless prove them
selves able to deal with the situations and problems of life. The introduc
tion of some tests of "practical ability" has been hastened by the neces
sity of dealing with those for whom merely linguistic tests are quite un
suitable, e.g., defectives and foreigners. Thus has been raised the ques
tion: Is it possible to devise some reliable test of practical ability? And if
it is, how will such a test correlate with the ordinary intelligence tests?
In Miss McFarlane s monograph will be found a good summary of
problems and methods, and a full account of her own interesting experi
ments. In all phases of this problem a good deal depends on the meaning
attached to the term "practical ability." Miss McFarlane takes a broad
view; she understands by the term "the subject s total response to a pro
blem of a certain kind, viz., one which demands for its solution changing
some portion of the physical world. This involves grasp of the problem,
ability to plan the series of movements necessary to bring about the change,
and ability to execute the movements successfully.
308 REVIEWS
After some preliminary experiments the investigator selected the fol
lowing tests: Putting together the parts of (1) a wheelbarrow (eight
pieces), (2) a cradle (eight pieces), (3) a frock, and (4) a coat (each of
seven pieces fastened together by press-buttons), (5) painted cube (con
sisting of 27 small cubes), and (6) Healey s Puzzle Box, and (7) McDou-
gall s Plunger Apparatus. The final experiments were carried out on 49
children in New York City, and 356 children (172 boys and 184 girls) in
London. The groupings were so arranged that they threw light on the
relation between proficiency in the tests and skill in certain technical school
subjects, the effect of age on performance, and the comparison of perform
ance of boys and girls.
One of the most interesting results of the investigation is the low
factor of correlation between these tests and the intelligence tests. Yet
Miss MeFarlane agrees with Koehler in thinking that proficiency is due
to ideational grasp of, or insight into, the nature of the problem. Miss
McFarlane s explanation of the apparently paradoxical result that these
responses are intelligent, but are not measured by the ordinary intelligence
tests is that in practical ability the main differences are due to the nature
of the material used. "We have arrived at the conception of practical
ability as a special ability differing from other special abilities not so much
in virtue of different mental processes involved as in the nature of the
material upon which these processes are directed. Like literary or mathe
matical ability, practical ability involves analysis and synthesis, judgment
and conception; its uniqueness lies in the fact that those persons possessing
it in a high degree analyse and judge better about concrete and spatial
situations than do other individuals who perhaps excel in dealing with
more highly abstract symbols." (P. 56.) As the authoress shows, this
opens up wide and diverse fields for further investigation. But does it not
also suggest that there can be no standardization in the testing of intelli
gence, that we shall require different classes of tests for each type of
intelligence? Who, then, is to judge whether failure in a test indicates
sub-normality or a new type? Standardization of the tests over large
numbers of children would probably show whether the writer s deduction
is sound or not. If it is, it will have a very wide-reaching effect on the
use of the ordinary intelligence tests and on educational methods.
T. A. Hunter.
Received from Harrap & Co., London:
Modern English Series: Narrative Essays and Sketches, Selected
by H. A. Treble and G. H. Vallins, 2/6. Goldsmith s Essays, Selected by
A. H. Sleight, 2/6. The New Readers Shakespeare: Merchant of
Venice, Ed. by G. B. Harrison and F. H. Pritchard Twelfth Night, by
same editors.
Received from Dr. Paul Feldkeller, Berlin. Das Maschinenideal in
Philosophic und Kultur (from Die Akademie). Die Deutsche Ethik
der Gegenwart (from Geisteskultur).
The following publications of the Catholic University of the Sacred
Heart have been received (Societa Editrice "Vita e Pensiero," Milan).
309
Immanuel Kant: Centenary Commemoration vol. by A. Gemelli.
L Anima di sari Tommaso, by F Olgiati. II Neo-Tomismo in Italia, by
A. Masnovo. La Gnoseologia dell Atto come Fondamento della Filo-
sofia dell Essere, by G. Zamboni. Introduzione al Corso di Gnoseologia
Pura, by G. Zamboni. Vito Fornari, by U. A. Padovani. San Paolo
(Text with Introd. and Notes), by G. Gennochi arid others. Nuovi
Orizzonti della Psicologia Sperimentale, by A. Gemelli. Lettere su la
Religione, by M. Casotti. Funzioni e Strutture Psichiche: A. Gemelli.
La Prevenziorie della Delinquenza: A. Gemelli.
JOURNALS RECEIVED.
ARCHIVES DE PSYCHOLOGIE. Edited by Ed. Claparede. Geneva.
No. 75. June 1925. (Price 3 fr. 75.) Psychologic et Critique de la
Connaissance: J. Piaget. Structure des Re"cits et L Interpretation des
Images de Dawid chez 1 erifant: E. Margairaz et J. Piaget. Doit-on
tenir compte des erreurs dans les tests a tempts fixe?: P. Bovet. Tests
d Osteretzky pour le development des fonctions motrices de 1 enfant:
R. Merkin.
PSYCHE. Edited by C. K. Ogden. Kegan Paul, etc. London. Quar
terly. Price 5/-.
July, 1925. Editorial: Behaviourism up to date. Good Sense: E.
Boutroux. Our Feelings as a Form of Knowledge: F. Paulhan. Visual
Reception: H. Pi(rori. Is the Universe Finite: B. Russell. Sublimation
in the Process of Conversion: S. de Sanctis. Some Aspects of Expres
sion: L. A. Reid. Emotion and Insanity: S. Thalbitzer. Ideography:
P. J. Hughesdon. Foreign Intelligence, etc.
JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY. Ed. by Professors Woodbridge and
Bush. Columbia University. Published fortnightly: four dollars
per anrium.
Vol. XXII. No. 12. June 4. The Doctririe of Levels: G. P. Conger.
Mr. Broad s Questions concerning Critical Realism: D. Drake. No. 13.
June 18. Data and Meaning in Cognition: M. T. McClure. Logical Sig
nificance of Rediscovered Knowledge: D. S. Robirison. No. 14. July 2.
Professional Work as an Ethical Norm: T. V. Smith. Meeting of
Western Div: of American Phil: Association: S. P. Lamprecht. Pro
fessor Singer s Philosophy of Science: R. M. Blake. No. 15. July 16.
Interactions of Beauty and Truth: H. E. Cory. Behaviour: F. J. E.
Woodbridge. No. 16. July 30. On Spontarieity: E. A. Singer, Jr. Deity
the Implication of Humanity: B. I. Gilman. No. 17. Aug. 13. Mathe
matics and Credulity: E. T. Bell. Classification and Division: A. C.
Benjamin. No. 18. Aug. 27. Contemporary German Philosophy, I:
E. Wind. Factual Basis of Mr. Johnson s Logic: H. R. Smart.
SCHOOLING. Teachers College Press, Sydriey. Five issues yearly.
5/- per annum. Edited by A. Mackie and P. R. Cole.
Vol. IX. No. 1. Oct. 1925. Editorial Notes. Some Modern Methods
of Studying Shakespeare: G. Mackaness. The History Syllabus for
Primary Schools: H. L. Harris. Imaginative Thinking and its Place In
310 JOURNALS RECEIVED
Class Teaching: W. G. Lee. The Meaning of Geography: L. G. Wood
cock.
THE MEDICAL JOURNAL OF AUSTRALIA. Sydney. Published
weekly, I/-.
THE LEGAL JOURNAL. Sydriey. Published monthly, 10/6 per
annum.
NOTES AND NEWS.
The Eighteenth Meeting of the Australasian Association for the
advancement of Science will be held at Perth, W.A., during the week
commencing 23rd August, 1926. Membership Fee, 1. University
students may become Associates on payment of 10/-. There will be
sections on Ethnology and Anthropology (President, Professor Wood
Jones), Social and Statistical Science (President, Major Giblin), Mental
Science and Education (Mr. Peter Board). Papers on! these subjects to
be sent to the Secretaries of Sections, Perth.
An Italian Psychoanalytic Society was founded at Teramo, in June,
1925. The official organ of the Society is the Archivio Generale di
Neurologia Psichatria e Psicoanalisi. All communications to be ad
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The Australasian Journal
of
Psychology and Philosophy
Che flustralasian journal
OF
Psychology . Philosophy
Edited by H. TASMAN LOVELL, M.A., Ph.D.
Associate Professor of Psychology in the University of Sydney
With the co-operation of
J. ANDERSON, M.A. (Sydney). W. A. MERKYLEES, B.A., B.Litt. (Men.)
W. ANDERSON, M.A. (Auckland) J. P. LOWSON, M.A., M.D. (Brisbane)
F. W. DUNLOP, M.A., Ph.D. (Otago) A. H. MARTIN, M.A., Ph.D. (Sydney)
M. SCOTT FLETCHER, M.A., B.Litt. (Br.) E. MORRIS MILLER, M.A., Litt.D. (Hob.)
A. C. Fox, M.A. (Perth) W. MITCHELL, M.A., D.Sc. (Adelaide)
W. R. BOYCE GIBSON, M.A., D.Sc.(Melb.) C. F. SALMOND, M.A. (Canterbury)
J. A. GUNN, M.A., B.Sc., Ph.D. (Melb.) J. McK. STEWART, M.A., D.Phil. (Adel.)
T. A. HUNTER, M.A., M.Sc. (Wellington)
VOL V 1927
PUBLISHED BY THE
AUSTRALASIAN ASSOCIATION OF PSYCHOLOGY & PHILOSOPHY
ROYAL SOCIETY S HOUSE, ELIZABETH STREET, SYDNEY, N.S.W.
Contents of Volume V.
ARTICLES.
Page.
ANDERSON, JOHN Empiricism . . . . . . . . . . . . 241
BOSTOCK, JOHN The Dream in the Light of a New Conception
of Consciousness . . . . . . . . . . 36
CANNON, J. G. Do Linguistic Group Tests of Intelligence, Non-
Linguistic Group Tests of Intelligence and
Scholastic Tests Measure the Same Thing?
(I) 216
Do Linguistic Group Tests of Intelligence, Non-
Linguistic Group Tests of Intelligence and
Scholastic Tests Measure the Same Thing?
(II) 275
CHABTERIS, A. H. Family Endowment in New South Wales . . 94
DAWSON, W. S. Personality, from the Standpoint of the
Psychiatrist 225
GRAY, A. J. Delinquency 263
GUNN, J. A. Time and Modern Metaphysics (II) .. .. .. 1
HARWARD, J. The Doctrine of the Soul in Plato and Aristotle 124
HUNTER, T. A. Some Concepts in Relation to Social Science . . 161
KYLE, W. M. British Ethical Theories: The Intuitionist Reaction
against Hobbes 113
LAWSON, R. Cogitationes de Re Pedagogiana (II) 132
LITTLE, V. A. S. Studies in Christian Origins (II): Early Teach
ing and Greek Thought 303
MERRYLEES, W. A. Descartes Theory of Knowledge . . . . . . 202
PORTUS, G. V. Some Difficulties of the Social Sciences . . . . 29
SALMOND, C. P. Instinct, Emotion and Appetite . . . . . . 13
SUTHERLAND, I. L. G. Maori Culture and Modern Ethnology (I) 81
M (ID 186
REVIEW ARTICLES-
BLAND, F. A. Public Administration 150
DISCUSSIONS
KNIBBS, SIR GEORGE H. Religion and Rationality . . . . 49
MILLER, E. V. Simultaneity and Relativity 59
SMITH, A. The Concept of Value from the Psychological
Point of View 139
RESEARCHES AND REPORTS-
BLACK, W. E. AND WEEKS, E. H. Some Psycho-Physical Tests
on Deaf, Dumb and Blind Subjects . . . . 296
DINGLE, JOHN T. A Bi-Manual Co-ordination Test . . . . 227
WALKER, E. R. AND WEEDEN, W. J. Assembling Matches: A
Simple Manu-Motor Test .. .. ..144
REVIEWS AND NOTICES OF BOOKS-
ALLEN, L. H. Occultism, Christian Science and Healing (A.
W. Osborn) 312
ANDERSON, JOHN Familiar Beliefs and Transcendent Reason
(Earl Balfour) 233
Reality (B. H. Streeter) 315
vi
REVIEWS AND NOTICES OF BOOKS Continued. Page.
BENHAM, F. C. Livelihood (J. A. Gunn) 235
BRERETON, J. LE GAY Francis Thompson and His Poetry
(T. H. Wright) 238
CAMERON, R. G. An Introduction to the Study of Education
and to Teaching (E. P. Cubberley) . . . . 232
COLE, P. R. Education and Social Welfare in Switzerland
(A. J. Pressland) 237
GIBSON, W. R. B Kant s Philosophy of Religion (C. J. Webb) 155
Superpersonalism (W. D. Lighthall) .. 235
Benedetto Croce: An Autobiography .. 314
HARRIS, H. L. Social and Political Ideas of Some Great
Thinkers of the XVI and XVII Centuries
(F. J. C. Hearnshaw) 309
HARRISON, L. Environment and Race (Griffith Taylor) .. 311
HUNTER, T. A. Psychology Applied to Education (James
Ward) 68
LITTLE, V. A. S. Hebrew and Egyptian Apocalyptic Litera
ture (C. C. McComb) 76
LOVELL, H. T. Complacency: The Foundation of Human
Behaviour (R. B. Raup) .. ., .. 76
This and That (T. Jasper) 317
MACKIE, A. Modern Psychology and Education (Sturt and
Oakden) 76
MARTIN, A. H. Practical Psychology (E. R. Robinson) .. 73
A First Laboratory Guide in Psychology
(Collins and Drever) 74
Directing Mental Energy (Francis Aveling) 312
MILLS, R. C. An Australian Looks at America (H. G. Adam) 314
PHILLIPS, G. E. The Abilities of Man (C. Spearman) .. 308
PRIESTLEY, H. J. Matter and Gravity in Newton s Physical
Philosophy (A. J. Snow) 74
RADCLIFFE-BROWN, A. R. The Primitive Races of Mankind
(Max Schmidt) 72
SCOTT-FLETCHER, M. The Realm of Mind (F. J. E. Woodbridge) 75
The Psychology of the Methodist Revival
(Sydney G. Dimond) 236
STEWART, J. MCKELLAR Changing Backgrounds in Religion
and Ethics (H. Wildon Carr) 313
TAYLOR, GRIFFITH A Study in Social Economics: The Hunter
River Valley (F. R. E. Mauldon) .. ..233
THATCHER, G. W. A Study of Gersonides (Nirna H.
Adlerblum) 237
WALKER, E. R. Human Behaviour (S. S. Colvin and W. E.
Bagley) 234
WOODHOUSE, W. J. The Culture of Ancient Greece and Rome
(Poland, Reisinger and Wagner) .. .. 70
JOURNALS RECEIVED 77, 157, 238, 317
NOTES AND NEWS 79,157,240,319
NOTES BY THE WAY 28,185,201,231,264,276,295
OFFICERS OF THE A.A.P.P. FOR 1927 80
The Australasian Journal
of
Psychology and Philosophy
Oefiusiralasian Journal
Psychology ^ philosophy
Edited by H. TASMAN LOVELY, M.A., Ph.D.
Associate Professor of Psychology, in tlic University of Sydney
With the co-operation of
J. ANDERSON, M.A. (Sydney). W. A. MEBBYLEES, B.A., B.Litt. (Melb.)
W. ANDERSON, M.A. (Auckland) J. P. LOWSON, M.A., M.D. (Brisbane)
F. W. DUNLOP, M.A., Ph.D. (Otago) A. H. MARTIN, M.A., Ph.D. (Sydney)
M. SCOTT FLETCHER, M.A. , B.Litt. (Br.) E. MORRIS MILLER, M.A., Litt.D. (Hob.)
A. C. Fox, M.A. (Perth) W. MITCHELL, M.A., D.Sc. (Adelaide)
W. R. Bo YCE GIBSON, M.A., D.Sc. (If elb.) C. F. SALMOND, M.A. (Canterbury)
J. A. GUNN, M.A., B.Sc., Ph.D. (Melb.) J. McK. STEWART, M.A., D.Phil. (Adel.)
T. A. HUNTER, M.A., M.Sc. (Wellington)
VOL. VI 1928
PUBLISHED BY THE
AUSTRALASIAN ASSOCIATION OF PSYCHOLOGY & PHILOSOPHY
BOTAL SOCIETY S HOUSE, ELIZABETH STREET, SYDNEY, N.S.W.
Contents of Volumn VI.
ARTICLES.
Page.
ADCOCK, C. J. Law and Chance . . . . . . 210
ANDERSON, JOHN Determinism and Ethics . . . . . . 241
ANDERSON, W. Self 81
ARCHDALL, H. K. Civilization and the Philosophic Outlook . . 15
BEAGLEHOLE, E. Some Aspects of Propaganda . . . . . . 93
BLAND, F. A. Unification or Self -Government . . . . . . . . Ill
BROWN, F. E. Christianity : The Religion of Jesus of Nazareth . . 256
BURING, BLANKA Medical Social Service . . . . . . . . 35
CROOKES, MARGUERITE W. Vitalism . . . . . . . . 283
GIBSON, W. R. BOYCE The Political Philosophy of Jean Jacques
Rousseau . . . . . . . . . 161
JASPER, T. A Plea for an Unnatural Morality . . .". . . 295
LAWSON, RICHARD New Wine in Old Bottles . . . . . . . . 297
LITTLE, V. A. SPENCE Studies in Christian Origins (III) . . . . 206
MILLER, E. V. Einstein and Pre -Relativity Physics . . . . . . 184
MCLAREN, C. I. An Hypothesis concerning the Relation between
Body and Mind (1) 195
,, An Hypothesis concerning the Relationship between
Body and Mind (II) 272
NGATA, SIR APIRANA Anthropology and the Government of Native
Races in the Pacific . . . . . . . . 1
PIDDINGTON, RALPH Reasoning and Rationalization . . . . . . 42
TAIT, W. D. Psychology, Leadership and Democracy . . . . 28
DISCUSSIONS-
ANDERSON, JOHN Another Outbreak of Virtue . . . . . . 151
PIDDINGTON, RALPH Reasoning and Rationalization : Reply to
Mr. Walker 220
WALKER, E. RONALD Reasoning and Rationalization . . . . 147
RESEARCHES AND REPORTS
BELLINGHAM, C. F. W. Some New Apparatus for the Psycho-
Galvanic Reflex Phenomenon . . . . . . 137
BLACK, W. E. Intelligence Tests of Blind Subjects with Modified
Bridges Point Scale 64
COTTON, F. S. Note on a Method of Combining the Standard
Deviations of a Number of Distributions into
One General Standard Deviation .. .. 218
HUNTER, T. A. Psychological Clinic for Children . . . . 300
MARTIN, A. H. Some New Apparatus for the Psycho -Galvanic
Reflex Phenomenon . . . . . . . . 137
MILLER, E. MORRIS Summarized Report of Distributions and
Inter-correlations of Binet and Performance
Test-Values obtained from Sub-normal Children
in a Mental Survey (I) . . . . . . . . 55
,, ,, ,, Summarized Report of Distributions and
Inter-correlations of Binet and Performance
Test-Values obtained from Sub-normal Children
in a Mental Survey (II) . . . . . . 118
SMITH, S. LANGFORD Some New Apparatus for the Psycho-
Galvanic Reflex Phenomenon . . . . 137
VI
Page.
RESEARCHES AND REPORTS (Continued)
WALKER, E. RONALD The Measurement of Persistency. . . . 213
WEEDEN, W. J. An Experimental Study of the Concept . . 304
REVIEWS AND NOTICES OF BOOKS
ANDERSON, JOHN Proceedings of the Sixth International Congress
of Philosophy (E. E. Brightman) . . . . 223
The Epinomis of Plato (J. Harward) . . 312
BARBIER, C. H. Mouvement et Pensee . . . . . . . . 316
CARSLAW, H. S. Zehn Vorlesungen Ueber Die Grundlegung Der
Mengenlehre (A. Fraenkel) . . . . . . 156
COOKE, W. E. An Outline of Stellar Astronomy (Peter Doig) . . 75
Fox, A. C. Morals in Review (A. K. Rogers) . . . . . . 311
GUNN, J. ALEXANDER An Experiment with Time (J. W. Dunne) 72
HUNTER, T. A. An Introduction to Sociology (Wilson D. Wallis) 70
,, Philosophy of Today (Ed. Leroy Schaub) . . 228
LAWSON, R. Methods with Adolescents (Ralph W. Pringle) . . 76
LOVELL, H. T. The Psychology of Murder (Andreas Bjerre) . . 155
,, ,, ,, Instinct and Personality (A. C. Garnett) . . 232
MARTIN, A. H. The Phenomenology of Acts of Choice (H. M. Wells) 66
,, ,, ,, An Experimental Study of the Mental Processes
Involved in Judgment (B. P. Stevanovic) . . 66
,, Mental Tests : Their History, Principles and
Application (Frank N. Freeman) . . . . 153
? , ,, ,, The Measurement of Early Levels of Intelligence
(K. S. Cunningham) .. .. .. ..316
MERRYLEES, W. A. Human Values and Verities (Henry Osborn
Taylor) 313
MILLER, E. MORRIS Psychology and the Soldier (F. C. Bartlett). . 231
POTTER, W. I. City Government by Commission : An Historical
Account of the First Experiment in the Govern
ment of Sydney by a Commission, 1854-1857
(F. A. Bland) 229
SALMOND, C. F. The World as an Organic Whole (N. O. Lossky) 310
STEWART, J. MCKELLAR Ethical Studies (F. H. Bradley) . . 152
SUTHERLAND, I. L. G. Primitive Man : His Essential Quest
(J. Murphy) 67
,, ,, ,, The Metaphysics of Pragmatism (Sidney
Hook) 309
THATCHER, G. W. Hindu Mysticism (N. S. Dasgupta) . . . . 153
WILKINSON, HERBERT J. Brain and Mind, or the Nervous
System of Man (Richard J. A. Berry) . . 314
VOL. VI.
MARCH, 1928.
No. 1.
Che Australasian journal
OF
Psychology - Philosophy
Edited by H. TASMAN LOVELL, M.A., Ph.D.
Associate Professor of Psychology in the University of Sydney
With the co-operation of
J. ANDERSON, M.A. (Sydney). W. A. MEBBYLEES, B.A., B.Litt. (Melb.)
W. ANDERSON, M.A. (Auckland) J. P. LOWSON, M.A., M.D. (Brisbane)
F. W. DUNLOP, M.A., Ph.D. (Otago) A. H. MARTIN, M.A., Ph.D. (Sydney)
M. SCOTT FLETCHER, M.A., B.Litt. (Br.) E. MORRIS MILLER, M.A., Litt.D. (Hob.)
A. C. Fox, M.A. (Perth) W. MITCHELL, M.A., D.Sc. (Adelaide)
W. R. BOYCE GIBSON, M.A., D.Sc.(JfeZ&.) C. F. SALMOND, M.A. (Canterbury)
J. A. GUNN, M.A., B.Sc., Ph.D. (Melb.) J. McK. STEWART, M.A., D.Phil. (Adel.)
T. A. HUNTER, M.A., M.Sc. (Wellington)
CONTENTS
Articles:
Anthropology and the Government of Native Races in the Pacific.
Sir Apirana Ngata
K. Archdall
Dr. W. D. Tait
Blanka Buring
ph Piddington
The following issue(s) is/are missing and
unobtainable
Data of collating
s of Binet and
Children in a
Morris Miller
Bridges Point
W. E. Black
PHILOSOPHY
s.w.
st free).
. VI. MARCH, 1928. No. 1.
IK Hustralasian journal
OF
sycbology * Philosophy
Edited by H. TASMAN LOVELL, M.A., Ph.D.
Associate Professor of Psychology in the University of Sydney
With the co-operation of
J*DEBSON, M.A. (Sydney). W. A. MEEBYLEEB, B.A., B.Litt. (Men.)
ANDERSON, M.A. (Auckland) J. P. LOWSON, M.A., M.D. (Brisbane)
DUNLOP, M.A., Ph.D. (Otago) A. H. MABTIN, M.A., Ph.D. (Sydney)
COTT PLETCHEB, M.A., B.Litt. (Br.) E. MOBEIS MHXEE, M.A., Litt.D. (Hob.)
Fox, M.A. (Perth) W. MITCHELL, M.A., D.Sc. (Adelaide)
. BOYCB GIBSON, M. A., D.Sc.CJfeZB.) C. F. SALMOND, M.A. (Canterbury)
GUNN, M.A., B.Sc., Ph.D. (Melb.) J. McK. STEWABT, M.A., D.Phil. (Adel.)
HUNTEB, M.A., M.Sc. (Wellington)
CONTENTS
:les:
Anthropology and the Government of Native Races in the Pacific.
Sir Apirana Ngata
Civilization and the Philosophic Outlook Rev. H. K. Archdall
Psychology, Leadership and Democracy Dr. W. D. Tait
Medical Social Service Blanka Buring
Reasoning and Rationalization Ralph Piddington
arches and Reports:
Summarized Report of Distributions and Inter-correlations of Binet and
Performance Test-values obtained from Sub-normal Children in a
Mental Survey Professor E. Morris Miller
ntelligence Tests of Blind Subjects with Modified Bridges Point
Scale W. E. Black
ews f Journals Received, Books Received, Notes and News.
PUBLISHED BY THE
TRALASIAN ASSOCIATION OF PSYCHOLOGY & PHILOSOPHY
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normal and sub-normal levels of mental development.
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VOL. VI. MARCH, 1928. No. 1.
ANTHROPOLOGY AND THE GOVERNMENT OF
NATIVE RACES IN THE PACIFIC. 1
By THE HON. SIR APPRANA TURUPA NGATA, M.A., LL.B., M.P.
ANTHROPOLOGY has been defined as the science of man,
considered physically, intellectually and morally, or in his
entire nature. As a science dealing with man, the supreme
product of nature, it demands tribute from every other branch
of science. The scope of this paper is fortunately denned by
the relation of the science to the government of native races
in the Pacific. Briefly the writer is required to discuss the
impact of imported cultures under control of civilized govern
ments on pre-existing native polity; and further, it is pre
sumed, to indicate the method whereby the native mind may
be influenced to surrender its concepts and to accept the
new ideas. It is not possible to cover the question adequately
in the time available this evening, but an attempt will be made
to deal with the main factors in the problem.
This paper will be found deficient in those abstract
statements and generalizations, that characterize scientific
discussions, and to that extent will, it is feared, fall short
of the standard of a group interested in psychology and
philosophy. The writer, as a Polynesian, accepts without
reservation the dictum of students of Maori mentality, that
the race had not attained to such a command of ideas and
of the language to express them as to have been able to use
abstractions and generalizations. Maori literature, such as it
is, is characterized, particularly in its poetry, by allusiveness,
by its abundant use of concrete illustrations, whence the
student may deduce principles and beliefs, and place them
in his schemes of classification. The student of the
whakatauki, or proverbial sayings of the Maori, will note their
poverty in those abstractions which distinguish the wise
sayings of the Hebrew, the European, or the Hindu. The
Maori language abounds in metaphorical expressions; old
narratives teem with aphorisms and personifications. The
*An address delivered before the Wellington local branch of the
Australasian Association of Psychology and Philosophy on September 28,
A
2 ANTHROPOLOGY.
Maori orator delights in allegory. Mr. Elsdon Best has
emphasized the mytho-poetic imagery so characteristic of
Maori mentality, but deplored the paucity of terms denoting
abstractions. It would be well to bear this in mind, when
appraising the appeal of European principles, beliefs and
standards to the Maori or Polynesian mind and heart; it
has too often failed to reach the mark, because of its unfamiliar
and foreign apparel.
There is a tendency perhaps in modern science to magnify
the importance of terminology; a tendency in ethnographers
to work to skeleton charts, such as are outlined in "Notes
and Queries on Anthropology," and to measure the quality
of their work by the detailed filling of those charts. Much
superficial work has been done under this guise. The
temptation to make the material observed conform to the
principles connoted by the terminology of the charts could
not always be resisted. Races under observation are thus
often credited with mental and other qualities they never
possessed; or more is read into their culture and sociology
than the facts warrant. This strain of superficiality is
perhaps more apparent in studies of sub-tropical peoples,
where isolation, climate and insufficient communications make
the research student impatient of his environment and
inclined to rush his "job" to a conclusion. He does not
succeed in tuning in to the mentality of the people he has
come to study before passing on to other localities, whose
survey is planned in the research scheme.
As great a source of inaccuracy and misunderstanding
is the mental and, it should be added, the social attitude
of the observer. To be thoroughly scientific he must be
honest and completely receptive; must not allow preconceived
notions to undervalue or overestimate any fact or concept,
that may come into view in his observations. The early
missionaries were not good observers of the mythology and
religious beliefs of the Polynesians. They were prone to
measure these by biblical standards or to apply to them a
terminology liable to be misunderstood. Shortland in
"Traditions and. Superstitions of the New Zealanders," speak
ing of the missionaries, said:
"The missionaries, who from their knowledge of the
language, alone had it in their power for many years to
converse freely with the native race, seem to have avoided
all enquiries on such subjects. They came to teach a religion,
and not to learn the principle of superstitions, which, how
ever valuable in matters of ethnological interest, they regarded
as having for their author the great enemy of mankind.
ANTHROPOLOGY. 3
"Similar views have probably influenced missionaries in
all new countries, for precisely the same course was taken
by the early Spanish missionaries at the Philippine Islands,
who, we are told, did their utmost to extirpate the original
memorials of the Natives/ substituting religious compositions
of their own, in the hope of supplanting the remains of
national and pagan antiquity."
It is said that Maori matter recorded about the middle
of last century was not above suspicion, that either the
tohungas dictating the same, or the scribes who took their
notes and extended them, were influenced by the scriptures.
The best studies of the moral and religious beliefs of the
Maori have been made by men who were not interested in
supplanting or converting them to other beliefs; while the
best results have been obtained by missionaries, who have
accepted the Maori philosophical system as the product of
an adult, intellectual, and spiritual nature, and thus entitled
to respect, to be put aside by the aboriginal people in view
of something better, more satisfying or less irksome than their
former regime.
As prone to err as the early missionaries, were the
pakeha immigrants, who adopted a pose of superiority, an
air of self-sufficiency, that refused to learn aught from a
barbarous people or to brook anything but the imposition of
their transplanted culture on the barbarians whom they found
in prior occupation. Your Association will, I take it, condemn
such an attitude as roundly as did the Natives, illustrating
as it does your wise saying relative to the blindness of those,
who having the capacity to see, will not use that faculty.
It should be granted, however, that if the mission of the
immigrant culture is complete conquest and destruction, then
calculated blindness is the best policy. The aboriginal
inhabitants would rank with the indigenous forest and fern,
as so many obstructions for the energetic pioneer to remove
and replace with imported grasses, and an imported
population with its concomitant culture complex. There
is no doubt, that most of the errors and misunder
standings have arisen from the intolerance, the narrowness,
the prejudice and intellectual contempt evinced by the
European in contact with native races, whether it be in
Polynesia or anywhere else. Such an attitude has too often
evoked a corresponding resistance and repugnance, a clash,
if it may be so termed, of cultures, the lower being overborne,
it is true, together with the people, whose inheritance it
was from the ages.
It was not to be expected that in the settlement of New
Zealand by the white race there would be, as a preliminary,
4 ANTHROPOLOGY.
an ordered and organized study of Maori culture. Coloniza
tion, especially of the North Island, was not a deliberate act
of a government or of an organization, such as was created
in the New Zealand Company or those organizations which
settled Canterbury and Otago. An intensive study of the
history of the Bay of Islands at the beginning of the nine
teenth century by the ethnologist would make an immensely
valuable contribution to the problem, which is denoted by
the title of this paper. It would be a study of the play of
human motives; of the mind of the Maori, actuated by the
same motives as have actuated man in all lands and in all
ages, now faced with new methods and strange means of
satisfying ancient aims and desires; of the mind of the
pakeha trader and adventurer, be he whaler, flax-merchant,
or sailor, breaking new ground indeed for the exercise of his
superior knowledge, but repeating a familiar experience
the experience of his forbears in Africa, the Indies, and
America; of the mind of the missionary, representing at that
time the best elements in the immigrant culture. This mind,
however much it was confined and handicapped by the nature
of its mission, did seek to probe that of the Native, and did
attempt to appraise and register the aboriginal institutions,
the social psychology of the Maori people. The "Williams 1
family, than which no other was more successful in influencing
the Maori mind, has left us no connected or extended study
of Maori culture at this time. The mastery of the Maori
language, evidenced by the successive editions of the Maori
dictionary by three generations of the family, is sufficient
proof that the necessary talent and knowledge were not
wanting. Those who had the privilege of knowing the members
of the family of the past generations and many of its
representatives to-day can vouch for their intimate knowledge
of Maori character and mentality, their great judgment in
weighing facts and ideas. It is to be regretted, therefore,
that this unique talent has not preserved to us a balanced
statement of the factors in the meeting of cultures at the
Bay of Islands a century ago.
The missionaries saw the introduction of the most
formidable and the most seductively attractive elements of
modern civilization, fire-arms, alcohol, and trade. The intro
duction of the first-named took place at that stage in the
history of the Maori people, when all over the North Island
tribe warred with tribe and bloody struggles were taking
place, which, if civilization, though attended by much evil,
had not entered, might have ended in the depopulation of
the country. Tribal histories, both published and unwritten,
agree that in the third or fourth generation after the Arawa-
ANTHROPOLOGY. 5
Tainui migration from Eastern Polynesia tribal wars on an
extensive scale commenced. Vendettas and reasons therefor
accumulated through the generations, until towards the end
of the eighteenth century tribal warfare had reached a summit
of fury and savagery unparalleled anywhere in the Pacific.
The research student will find ample and highly interest
ing material in pursuing the effect of the introduction of
lire-arms on Native culture. Hongi Hika of infamous memory
merely anticipated, what many another war leader might
have done, if the w r haler and trader had found harbours in
other localities as favourable as Whangaroa and the Bay of
Islands. The pu-tawhiti would have been used as readily and
as relentlessly to wipe out old scores. The immigrant culture
required, that in regard to its sea-faring vessels they should
have ample sheltered anchorage in deep waters, close to
provisions, water, and suitable timber, where they might be
refitted for further voyages. Contemporary Maori songs
abound with references to the new and terrible implement of
warfare, which in two generations completely relegated the
old weapons to the ceremonial marae or the museum. Prescott
has related, in a masterly manner, the devastating effects of
the Spanish warfare on the ancient civilizations of Mexico and
Peru. New Zealand awaits another Prescott to describe in
appropriate language the most dramatic effects of the
introduction of this element of the culture of Europe.
The historian or ethnologist may contemplate the dis
integrating effects of these importations. It would not be
possible or necessary to detail them here. But no study
would avail which did not emphasize the violence which
the three imported factors did to pre-existing Native polity.
In warfare, it is true, the method of destruction was merely
changed and the scale probably increased, though the latter
may be doubted. The most serious result, probably was that
the possession of fire-arms became the overwhelming motive
of the Native mind; his industrial activities were ordered
to that end; his control of tribal lands was governed by a
new and supreme temptation, so that the new culture appealed
to his avarice and desire for vengeance and power.
The gun, alcohol, manufactured clothes and blankets,
barter, money, traffic in land the anthropologist must not
neglect to record in the pursuit of his science the part each
of these has played in the disintegration of Native cultures in
Polynesia, as in other parts of the world.
From this welter of lust and bloodshed the Maori people
emerged with terrible scars and unbalanced minds. It should
be emphasized that culturally the severest loss was that
of the old time sanctions, which fortified custom and their
6 ANTHROPOLOGY.
religious system, which supported the mana and prestige of
the chiefs and priests, round which the communal system
evolved. It was at this period that the far-off British Govern
ment decided to intervene, and to introduce law and order
in a country, where its white subjects had established them
selves and required, not only protection, but control in their
relations with the aboriginal inhabitants. That remarkable
document, the Treaty of Waitangi, was signed nearly two
generations after the first serious impact of pakeha civilization
upon the Maori regime. The student of anthropology will find
ample room for speculation as to the mental attitude of
the chiefs assembled at Waitangi in February of 1840, and
especially as to their conception of the meaning of the terms,
"sovereignty," mana, "ownership according to Native customs
and usages," as Governor Hobson, through Henry Williams,
expounded them. Would the Maori tribes have been welded
by warfare into a race under a supreme chief and thus
evolved, as in some of the Pacific Islands, the institution of
Kingship? It is extremely doubtful. The size of the country,
the difficulties of transport and the relationships of leading
rangatira families would have militated against any permanent
effective cohesion.
Jurists in successive generations have written tomes to
expound the conception of sovereignty. Even now the
abstraction is not easy to grasp and comprehend. Fortun
ately, for the Maori, in New Zealand the British genius had
personified abstract sovereignty in the distant King, w r hom
some of the Maori Chiefs had seen in the flesh, with whose
successor they or their descendants concluded the Treaty. The
nearest approach to an apprecation of the nature and effect
of the Treaty was expressed by old Nopera Pana-Kareao, the
most powerful chief in the Mangonui and Kaitaia districts, in
a speech accounted amongst the finest examples extant of
old-time Native oratory:
I wish you all to love the Governor. We are saved by this. Let
everyone say, "Yes," as I do. We have now some one to look up to.
My grandfather brought the Pakehas to this very spot, and the chiefs
agreed with what my grandfather did. He went on board the ship
and got trade. He spread it through the land. Let us act right
as my ancestors did. What has the Governor done wrong? The
shadow of the land goes to the Queen, but the substance remains
with us. We will go to the Governor and get payment for our land
as before.
I have lingered at some length over this famous compact,
because of its bearing on the government of the Maoris in
this country. We have come to the point where the anthro
pologist becomes the historian, the jurist, and, in a measure,
the psychologist. The attitude of the Maori mind towards
ANTHROPOLOGY. 7
the new conceptions of sovereignty, personified by the Queen,
Government, as embodied in the Governor and his officials,
the ownership of land according to custom and usage as
guaranteed by the Treaty, and, finally, towards the abstract
idea of legal equality with the representatives of the new
culture, is a subject well worth the attention of the ethnologist
who sees before his own eyes the actual process of the merging
of cultures, the adaptation of one to the pressure of elements
in the other, the reaction of the lower upon the higher, and
withal the physical, mental, and moral influences generated
in the process. In no other land have the circumstances been
so favourable for the study. Under no other rule has it been
possible to stage such a drama as has been unfolded in New
Zealand the deliberate lifting of a people of lower culture to
full equality in political, social, and moral communion with
one of the most advanced races in the world.
In every department of material culture the Maori primi
tive polity could parallel, though on a lower plane, corres
ponding elements in the new culture. So could every other
important branch of the Polynesian race. And in one depart
ment or another the new culture met stubborn, conservative
elements, that are not yet completely dissolved. I maintain
that the function of Government in this country, as applied
to the Maori race, has been to discover and appraise these
elements, and especially to judge whether in their nature they
were detrimental to progress on the lines newly laid down,
or worth preserving in a modified form. It is in the dis
position shown by legislators, educationists, reformers,
churchmen, and all who have had to do with the administra
tion of Maori affairs, to examine sympathetically these
elements in the Native culture and to provide for them so
that New Zealand may be regarded as the best example of
success in the government of a Native race not only in the
Pacific, but perhaps in the world.
I wish to refer briefly to some examples to illustrate my
contention. In regard to the physical preservation and
improvement of the Maori people, reform met with strong
and persistent resistance. The disturbance was not apparent
in the physical culture of the race. Those of you who have
read the observations of Taylor, Thomson, Colenso, Elsdon
Best, and others on the manners and customs of the Maori
will appreciate that in the economy of their village life, in
their customs relating to the treatment of the sick, to the
care of children, to their food and clothing, to housing and
living conditions, to the disposal of the dead, and to the all-
pervading tapn, would be found the most conservative elements
of Native culture. I must also point out here an element little
8 ANTH-ROPOLOGY.
appreciated in ethnological studies that I have seen, an
element that is the fundamental difference between the English
conception of the individualistic "home," and the Maori notion
of the communal kainga. This will be found at the root of
all the difficulties of Government of the Native race not only in
this country but in other parts of Polynesia.
Where, as in New Zealand, the climate and physical
conditions made it one of the most favourable territories on
earth for European settlement, it was inevitable that an
immigrant white race must establish its culture there and
expand in time into a vigorous nation, even at_the expense
of the culture of the aboriginal inhabitants. Colonization, as
planned by Edward Gibbon Wakefield and others, was aimed
deliberately at the transplantation of the best elements in
English culture to the new land. In the practically virgin
areas of Canterbury, Otago, and Southland the scheme met
with no checks from a rival Native culture. In the North
Island such checks existed and were met. The colonization
of the Northern peninsula was a haphazard affair, and afforded
a much more interesting study because the cultures found
themselves thrown the one against the other without design
and, as it were, in the natural, uncontrolled course of ethnic
development. In the Wellington Province the Wakefield
scheme came into conflict with tribes newly established at
Wellington, Otaki, and along the Manawatu Coast, where
they had recently succeeded by force of arms in subduing
Ngatiira, Muaupoko, and other aboriginal peoples. The new
comers, as colonists themselves and barely established in new
kaingas, had not perhaps had time to weave associations and
traditions round the beaches, the streams, and mountains of
the conquered territory. This would probably account for
the readiness with which they parted with the conquered
lands. It would also account for the ready response of the
Ngati-Raukawa, Ngati-Toa, and Ati-Awa, the immigrant
tribes, to accept European settlement and culture. With them
it is found that the old communal system of land holding
and the communal idea of the kainga gave way more readily,
if not more thoroughly, to the invading conception of in
dividual ownership and privacy in the home. Superficially,
they appeared to have become Europeanised more rapidly
than any tribes to the north or to the east of them. This
was perhaps an accident of history, but the circumstance does
give rise to the speculation that, if those who eventually
came to control the introduction of European culture to
the Maori people had penetrated to the root difficulty, the
absence of the idea of "home," and had deliberately swept
away communal land-ownership and replaced it with the
ANTHROPOLOGY. 9
English conception of a man s home being his castle, the
effective adoption of English culture might have taken place
much earlier in the history of the Maori race.
To the end of the nineteenth century a policy of drift
characterized Government action or inaction in regard to
the health of the Maori people. Degeneracy, neglect, infant
mortality, the practical abandonment of Maori material and
ways of dress and the adoption of European clothing, the
removal of the incentive to labour and hard physical exercise
these and other facts have been deplored as contributing
to the physical decadence of the race. The old sanctions of
tapu, priestly control and chiefly mana had disappeared or
persisted in degenerate forms and practices, and the new
culture had not as yet provided effective substitutes, or, if
they existed, had not been admitted to full control in the
Maori social organization.
It was at this stage that the influence of education on
the mind of the new generation of Maoris emerged as a
serious factor in the co-ordination of elements in the dis
appearing Maori culture with the pervading pakeha culture.
The emergence of the educated Maori youth and the part it
has taken and is still taking in reorganizing Maori culture, if
I may still so designate it after it has been battered about
by the invading factors, should provide one of the most
interesting studies possible for New Zealand psychologists or
practical politicians.
The representatives of the Young Maori Movement
possessed of the intuitions of their forefathers and having
in the schools, at college, and in society acquired some facility
in looking through pakeha spectacles at racial problems,
claimed the privilege of advising the course that legislation
and administration should take. They found in the late Sir
James Carroll, then Minister of Native Affairs, and a master-
psychologist, an elder prepared to indulge the views of the
rising generation. The Maori Council Act, 1900, resulted. The
idea was that a Council composed of representatives of the
tribe inhabiting a district should act, inter alia, as a Health
Committee with power to administer sanitary and kindred
regulations in the villages. Model by-laws drafted by the
Department were circulated among the various Councils.
These were based on the recommendations of the Young Maori
reformers. The Councils culled from the draft the by-laws
which suited their conditions. In each village a Committee
was appointed to administer these. These bodies so effectively
broke down the last resistance of old time Maori customs
that in 1920 the Public Health Act, with European adminis-
1 ANTHROPOLOGY.
trators and inspectors, was admitted with very little friction
into the everyday life of the Maori people. I may add
that recently, when New Zealand assumed the mandate over
Western Samoa, the model by-laAvs prepared for the guidance
of the Maori Councils of New Zealand twenty-seven years
ago were adopted there with modifications for use in the
Samoan Villages.
Most of you have read of our Polynesian customs and
practices relating to the dead, of the tangis or mourning
feasts, of the long lying in state, with the danger, if it was
the case of an infectious disease, to the health of others;
and, in later days, of the accompanying debauchery and waste.
Every reformer had preached against the persistence of these
practices as dangerous, wasteful, and degrading, but it was
no easy matter to secure improvement. The danger to contacts
might have been minimized or removed by embalming and
disinfection, but this would have cost too much, and at one
time would have been deemed desecration. The altered mental
attitude of the people towards these practices was evidencd
by the very mild protest made when the Council passed
a by-law requiring burial within a limit of three days in
the cool weather and of two days in the summer, unless
special circumstances demanded speedier interment. This was
a small measure of reform on the face of it, but how much
of the old culture was surrendered to make way for it, how
much adjustment had to be made in the mental attitude?
In the year 1898 it may be said that the Whare Runanga,
the common meeting house of the village, w r as still constructed
on ancient lines, which as regarded ventilation provided for
only the front door and window, both of which remained
tightly closed, when the house was not occupied, or at night,
when the house was so congested, that you could not stretch
yourself out at full length. Doctors, missionaries, school
teachers had preached ventilation for two generations without
appreciable success. To put a hole, much less a window, at
the rear end of the meeting house, or on the side walls, was an
unheard of thing in Maori land, although our relatives in the
warmer islands of the Pacific would have wondered at our
ignorance and backwardness in this respect. The educated
Maoris once more rose to the occasion with their acquired
faculty of seeing with the eyes of both races. This was clearly
a case where a concrete illustration of the proposed reform
might have far reaching effects. A meeting house on the East
Coast was made the first example, two windows being inserted
at the rear end thereof. In 1901 the Maori Councils without
exception adopted a by-law requiring the proper ventilation
not only of meeting houses but of private dwellings as well.
ANTHROPOLOGY. 1 1
Seventeen years later it was possible without straining Maori
prejudice to progress as far as the provision of a chimney, a
back door, and even an accessory porch over which food might
be served direct from the detached cook-house.
These are sufficient, I think, to illustrate in regard to the
village life of the present day Maori, how governmental action
may adapt itself to the changing mind of a Native race, if that
mind is placed under close and honest observation.
So, too, in regard to the ownership and occupation of
land. I dealt with this matter at length in an address to
a group of students here recently. I showed how New Zealand
had pursued for sixty years the policy of individualization
of land titles through the Native Land Court, in accordance
with the declaration of the Treaty of Waitangi and of the
Native Rights Act, that Native land titles should be deter
mined according to Native custom and usage. The effect of
this process, as conducted through the ordinary machinery of
the Native Land Court has been apparently to produce chaos.
The policy has been carried to the bitter end, but has appar
ently failed to secure individualization. Here, again, the
Young Maori Movement has taken the situation in hand,
for the time had evidently arrived for welding the results
of fresh work into useful shape. Consolidation of interests,
scattered in almost useless fashion over many counties, was
suggested as the solution. It would^in one operation aggre
gate these interests on a valuation basis in one or two compact
holdings, and also bring all elements in the title up to date,
It has taken sixteen years now to popularize the new system
in one district, the East Coast, but it is being adopted else
where, and it is hoped that the Government will extend
it to all parts of the Dominion.
I am conscious that I have covered the ground very
inadequately in this paper so far as New Zealand is concerned.
The contention of cultures here has been controlled by the
outstanding policy of effective European settlement in a
country and a climate eminently favourable to it. Maori
culture has been compelled to conform to it, but the adapta
tion has been vastly facilitated by the education of the Maori
people and the development in them of the faculty of seeing
from two different angles.
When we leave New Zealand and consider the case of the
Cook Group, which came under our direct control in 1900,
and the case of Western Samoa, the mandate over which was
acquired quite recently, we are brought into touch with two
closely related branches of the Polynesian race. Rarotonga
and Samoa have this feature in common as distinguished from
1 2 ANTHROPOLOGY.
New Zealand, that it has never been seriously contended that
either is suitable for European settlement. In Karotonga the
policy of Government has been largely "Rarotonga for the
Rarotongans" ; in Samoa it is said, that New Zealand s policy
is "Samoa for the Samoans."
British success in New Zealand in administering Maori
affairs justified the expectation that her administrators had
thoroughly mastered the art of governing Polynesians. This
was quite reasonable and has been justified in regard to
the Cook Group. The trader element there has caused trouble
at intervals, but the complications were never as serious
as in New Zealand. The experience of Ne\v Zealand has been
applied in all departments to Cook Island conditions without
difficulty. It should be noted, perhaps, that the Cook Island
administration has been more or less associated with the
Native Department of New Zealand. The official head of
the administration has almost, without a break, been a
politician with an expert knowledge of Native Affairs in this
country.
I should say something here about the taihoa policy so
intimately connected with the name of James Carroll. Taihoa
became a term of opprobrium, synonymous with marking-time,
stone-walling, and retrogression. It was thrown at a man
who, himself the product of two races, the Irish and the
Maori, entered Parliament forty years ago and in his first
speech advocated the full equality of the Maori and of the
pakeha in law. He lived long enough to modify that policy
in view of the differences in culture, inequality of experience,
training, and standards. He could see as well as, if not
better, than any man of his time where advances might be
made in legislation and administration. But he could also
see that to secure success each reform must be timed psycho
logically. In resisting the pressure of settlers actuated by
their own policies, he earned for the taihoa policy public
displeasure.
He was followed by Sir William Herries, who presented
the contrary policy the policy of hustle, whether the Maori
mind was ready or not to accept his measures. He found in
office that the taihoa policy was not the creation of his
predecessor, but was imposed by the fundamental conditions
of the problem to which every Native Minister has to address
himself. That policy applied to Rarotonga, administered
sympathetically, meant that every element in the immigrant
Eu-ropean culture, which, by its substitution for the pre
existing usage, fitted the Rarotongan better to live in a
world where modern science had brought him into touch
with other races and other ideas, was introduced in ordered
ANTHROPOLOGY. 1 3
sequence and to the extent that the Rarotongan was ready
to receive and benefit by it. There was no upheaval as in
New Zealand, no violent unmooring from old beliefs and
sanctions. But a steady pressure is being applied in all
directions, whereunder each succeeding generation of Cook
Islanders may be influenced to advance gradually from one
culture to another, or, as is most likely, to a blending of
elements of the old with the new.
A few words on Samoa and I have done. Western
Samoa came under New Zealand control in circumstances that
are well known to you. One circumstance associated with the
Mandate, the fact that it was given by the League of Nations,
probably led to the creation of a special Ministry, that of
External Affairs. This title had a high imperial sound that
seemed appropriate to New Zealand s occupation and con
quest of Western Samoa, and to the emanation of her man
date from the conclave of the Nations of the world. New
Zealand assumed the mandate with a reputation for expert,
tactful, and wise government of two branches of the Poly
nesian race. She had behind her the experience of a century
in this country and of a generation in Karotonga. She was
supposed to have mastered the intricacies of the Polynesian
mind. There need then be no fear that in Samoa she would
not profit by the lessons so laboriously gathered over four
generations.
The case of Samoa is before a special commission, sub
judice, as the lawyers would say. But one may venture a
few remarks without breach of the rule relating to cases
under review by legally constituted tribunals.
I can say that in Western Samoa we have not altogether
benefited by our New Zealand and Rarotongan experience.
Was the creation of a Ministry of External Affairs and its
detachment from the Native Department a wise step? The
experts of that Department have not been used or consulted.
It seemed as if we have ignored the experience whose
possession justified an assumption of the mandate.
We have propounded the policy of Samoa for the
Samoans, and, as Samoa is not considered suitable for Euro
pean settlement, this has been easy to formulate, and its
pronouncement has given us great satisfaction. In following
up our pronouncement of policy we have, I think, shown an
over eagerness to prove to the world how competent we are
to handle such problems. This may be termed the pardonable
pride of the tohunga. Here was the opportunity for our
ethnologists to survey the social setting of the Samoan race,
to appraise the extent to which previous contact with European
culture had affected the Native culture and to adapt our
1 4 ANTHROPOLOGY.
New Zealand and Rarotongan experience to the conditions
revealed. A taihoa policy such as was applied in Rarotonga
would have answered well in the years during which we
learnt and accumulated data. It was not wise to assume
that because we knew the minds of two representative
branches of the race, we could forthwith effect easy entry
into the mind of the Samoan. Some of our Maori ancestors
left islands of the Sainoan Group many centuries, perhaps
a thousand years, ago. The English, who have not been a
century in New Zealand as an organized society, are already
resentful of the importation of experts from their homeland
to administer departments of State. These would have to
acquire what is known as "the colonial view." Our present
immigration policy demands that immigrants shall be of the
kind most ready to adapt themselves to New Zealand con
ditions. Was it reasonable, then, to assume that knowledge
of Maori culture in New Zealand and the Cook Group would
at once enable us to tune in to the Samoan mind, or to
appreciate a culture that must in its tropical setting have
many local variations?
Our policy is superb in its simplicity ; our intentions, their
justice and honesty, cannot be questioned by any tribunal
in the world. Our methods may be seriously questioned by
the anthropologist, whether he be a university professor or
the proverbial man in the street. We have probably over
estimated the receptivity of the Samoan mind. We have prob
ably not sufficiently appreciated that the social structure of
the Samoan people has not been uprooted as was that of
the Maori nearly a century ago; that, therefore, it is not as
advanced from a pakeka standpoint as that of the Maori to
day. We have much to learn of their customs relating to
land tenure. We do not thoroughly understand the status
and position of their hereditary chiefs. We have not given
ourselves sufficient time to learn about the Samoans from
themselves before launching at them those reforms which we
think would be for their benefit, because they have proved
beneficial to their relatives here and in Rarotonga.
I may conclude by quoting some lines from Lawrence s
"Revolt in the Desert," a propos of the blustering tactics of a
British general, when a clash appeared imminent between
the Arab and British leaders towards the end of the Palestine
campaign :
My head was working full speed in these minutes, on our joint
behalf, to prevent the fatal first steps by which the unimaginative
British, with the best will in the world, usually deprived the
acquiescent native of the discipline of responsibility, and created a
situation which called for years of agitation and successive reforms
and riotings to mend.
CIVILIZATION AND THE PHILOSOPHIC OUTLOOK.
By REV. H. K. ARCHDALL, M.A.,
Headmaster of King s College, Auckland.
"WE are living, to-day, under the sign of the collapse of
Civilization" writes a famous European publicist, and his
words find many echoes in contemporary literature. Our
situation has not been produced by the Great War, as some
easy going optimists would have us believe: the war was but
a crucial manifestation of our spiritual "atmosphere," though,
of course, the world cataclysm has reacted disastrously and
intensified our difficulties. Just below a mighty cataract, we
are driving along in a current full of formidable eddies, and
it will need the most gigantic efforts to rescue the vessel of
our Fate from the dangerous side channel into which we have
allowed it to drift, and to bring it back into the main stream.
We have drifted out of the main stream of civilization for
many reasons, but chiefly because, for many years, there was
not amongst us modern men sufficient reflection upon what
civilization is. On the one hand, all over the world, in an age
of wonderful advances in scientific knowledge about the
material world, civilization has become increasingly identified
with material advancement and the money values which make
it possible. On the other hand, the more the material aspect
of life has been emphasized at the expense of other and more
fundamental kinds of experience, the more has humanity lost
unity of outlook, both in the individual life and in all man s
social groupings.
Now History seems to teach us that civilization has always
progressed when there was a common spiritual outlook which
expressed itself in the control and direction of the material
side of life; which made men free and happy by organizing
social life for ideal ends. Civilization was never merely a
collection of individual facts; rather was it their unification
and inspiration by some "universal principle." It was both
inward and outward, and produced a sense of direction and
progress in all human affairs. The danger of our present
situation is just the loss of this sense of a common, united
direction for our life, and the further we go the less we are
able to appreciate the real facts, until we come to deceive our
selves as to the conditions on which the progress of civilization
depends. Thus we crossed the threshold of the 20th century
with an unshakable conceit of ourselves, and I doubt if the
worst war in history has yet succeeded in shaking us out of
our self-complacency.
*A lecture, given at Auckland University College under the auspices
of the Australasian Association of Psychology and Philosophy.
1 6 CIVILIZATION AND THE PHILOSOPHIC OUTLOOK.
Two tendencies have aggravated our difficulties, namely,
evolutionism and over-specialization:
Evolutionism. I speak not of the splendid results of
evolutionary science, but of the dim half-baked view of life
which has happened, quite unnecessarily, to accompany it.
Instead of keeping a firm hold on the permanent conditions of
all the ideal sides of our life intellectual, moral and esthetic
and thus maintaining those spiritual and absolute values
which are our only sound basis, we have contented ourselves
with a mass of mere description about the history of the
development of the world and of human society. We have in
short committed the first-rate blunder of confusing origin with
validity. Hence, the belief in absolute values and in the laws
and principles which such a belief entails, has receded, until
we fail in courage to deal with the whole of life, both as it is
and as it might become. Different sections of people concen
trate on the material or spiritual sides of life, and what ought
to be fruitfully complementary has become pathetically anti
thetical. No analysis of our current tendencies can possibly
be helpful which fails to see what a grave problem has thus
arisen.
The over- specialisation of our age is the second tendency
which threatens our hold on real civilization. Specialization
is a most prominent feature of our modern centuries. Each
branch of knowledge has selected its own special subject-
matter, and has claimed absolute freedom from interference in
dealing with it. Each branch of knowledge has forfeited the
right to dogmatize about the world as a whole in order to
perfect its study of a part. The geologist, psychologist,
biologist, chemist, scholar, historian, artist, religionist each
pursues his different path, irrespective of the conclusions of
others and of the conclusions of any central authority, with
the result that the unity of the mind, and so of civilization, is
gravely threatened.
Of course, the delimitation of spheres is not achieved
without friction. Still an attitude of mutual tolerance has
been arrived at, and this attitude of mutual tolerance is
eulogized as constituting that freedom of thought which is the
most priceless gife of modern centuries. Indeed, its practical
results for good have been enormous ; but nothing should blind
us to the dangers of the situation. There is great need to
remember that it is only within certain limits that specializa
tion goes hand in hand with real freedom of thought. Beyond
these limits specialization becomes the minister of intellectual
slavery. All specialized efforts are valueless unless they
contribute to a common end, and the more the partial views of
life are multiplied and variegated the more imperative is the
CIVILIZATION AND THE PHILOSOPHIC OUTLOOK. 1 7
need that we should have some grasp of the end to which all
contribute some common principle which enables us to
attain to a unity of outlook on life as a whole. It is just w r hen
the whole is lost sight of, when analysis destroys what Plato
called "the synoptic glance," that specialization tends to the
slavery of thought. The narrow-mindedness of the expert,
whose judgments are completely limited by the outlook he
derives from his special subject, is one of the great dangers of
modern civilization. (It was this tendency that Darwin felt
and regretted in himself without being wholly able to break
free from it.) Left to himself, the specialist continues to dig
his own pit and to sink down into it, until he is apt to take
for a horizon what is in reality only the edge of his grave.
Moreover, the multiplication of all the specialized views
of the universe has led many men to despair of formulating
any general principles. They preach a gospel of tolerance
which is, in effect, a message of despair. The best many men
can do is to hold on, without assurance of conviction, to any
opinion which may happen to suit them. Such depreciation
of our powers constitutes a bondage which leads to unnecessary
pessimism. And pessimism will never be conquered by a facile
assumption that all our divergent and conflicting efforts must
find their co-ordination in some higher truth, unless the nature
of this unifying principle is explained to some extent. Lack
of certainty as to the final end of all the divergent paths will,
in practice, produce impatience and the vulgar kind of
intolerance nowadays clothed under a haughty indifference.
In short, if there be no common good, there can be no
true liberty of thought, no true unity of mind. To acquiesce
in anarchy is not to pursue progress either in politics or in the
deeper thought which underlies civilization: true breadth of
mind seeks to find room for the greatest possible variety of
opinions as all contributive to a common truth, and it is only
possible and reasonable when it is rooted in a sure conviction
as to ultimate principle.
Now it is philosophy which has always been specially
interested in ultimate principle; in reality as opposed to
appearance; in the necessary presuppositions of rational,
moral and aesthetic life. The purpose of this lecture is to
enquire what bearing a truly philosophic attitude has on some
of our problems about civilization. For philosophy is far
more an attitude than a system. Its special task is to liberate
the mind from prejudice and partiality, and to stop people
taking the part for the whole. In point of fact, there never
has been and there never can be a final philosophy, any more
than there can be a final musical symphony or a final lyrical
poem. The temptation we must beware of is, to try to have
18 CIVILIZATION AND THE PHILOSOPHIC OUTLOOK.
a system which leaves no unexplained mysteries at the root
of things. There have been many systems of philosophy in the
course of speculation, and what we now have is no one such
system. Europe has seen three main systems rise and fall
(the Greeks, Descartes and Hegel), and we are living now in
the period of the break up of the pretension of the Hegelian
system to have explained "all thought and all existence"
(cf. Hegel s idea that in this thought the Absolute was coming
to self -consciousness).
I would venture now to stress the point that some at least
of our problems in civilization are due to mistakes in the
general attitude of much 19th century and recent philosophy.
Philosophy claims so many of the ablest minds of each genera
tion that it is reasonable to ask that they should apply the
philosophic attitude in a fruitful way to the problems of
civilization. Unfortunately, many philosophers have taken
up a position of Olympian aloofness, and have often given
the impression that they were aiming at inventing a system of
life and thought, out of touch with the imperative needs of
human life. Philosophical discussion did not seem to touch
human experience and the facts of life. It ought to have let its
convictions go forth as fruitful ideas to influence the general
thought. Unproductive capital ceases to be creative. Merely
to reflect on the results achieved by the individual sciences is
not enough. Philosophy must deal with what Narisco calls
"The Great Problems," if she is to have a message for the
great world. Sooner or later, any valuable philosophical
thought must be capable of transforming itself into a living
philosophy of the people, and of dealing with the primary
deeper questions which individuals and the crowd are thinking
about. Philosophy cannot survive either in the form of gold
coinage minted in the past for the needs of the past, or in
the form of unminted bullion never put into circulation. It
is the hunger of the present that must be appeased; the
attitude of the priest and the Levite in the parable of the good
Samaritan is not really very helpful. It seems quite certain
that the main business of philosophy is to be the guide and
guardian of the general reason, that is, the reasonable life as
it is actually lived by man. It could do much to help to
release the energies needed for the establishment and mainten
ance of the ideals of civilization; but it can only render this
service if thought does not abdicate from its high function.
There are certain imperative needs which man finds in the
course of his logical, ethical, esthetic and religious experience
needs which must be met if life is to have a real meaning
and value, and thought must have a good deal to say about the
interrelation of man s various attempts at knowledge of reality.
CIVILIZATION AND THE PHILOSOPHIC OUTLOOK. 19
Unfortunately, in modern times, the method of treating
the problem of epistemology, i.e. the meaning of man s
knowledge, has been so largely conducted in a spirit of aloof
ness from the historically real way in which man has sought
for knowledge in science, social life and politics, education and
culture, art and religion. It is not the business of philosophy
to invent some substitute for the knowledge and experience
which is simply "given" in man s historically real experience.
To attempt this produces the abstract critic who cannot
construct, and leaves us with a philosophy standing over
against the growing civilization it ought to help. Metaphysics,
as a matter of fact, has no special infallibility, and its main
business ought to be to liberate the mind from prejudice and
ignorance, and thus prepare it to receive illumination from
sources beyond the lecture-room and technical discussion, in
short, from life itself in all its fullness. We rightly condemn a
religion which divides life into the "sacred" and the "secular."
But we must equally condemn any attempt of philosophy to
reflect on knowledge ab extra instead of seeking to guide its
development in man s actual experience. Another way of say
ing the same thing is to declare that "all thought exists for the
sake of action." The end of all knowledge and especially of all
self knowledge is the freer and more effectual self-revelation of
human nature in a vigorous practical life. If thought were
the mere discovery of interesting facts, its indulgence in a
world full of disparate evils and among men crushed beneath
the burdens of daily tasks too hard for their solitary strength,
would be the act of a traitor.
That there is something wrong is proved by the fact that
the great public does not cry out for philosophy as it does,
for example, for novels and picture shows. In the large, it is
true that philosophy pipes to a generation that will not
dance, and the same must of course be said of the present
position of both art and religion. To a large extent, this is a
special failing of our age. Leaving aside the inevitable fact
that great men of all ages are never appreciated till they are
dead, it remains true that in so much current philosophy,
religion and art the great public is not given that which holds
and directs it fruitfully. The public is keenly interested in
football and racing, business and wages, and mildly interested
in politics and education ; but in art, religion and philosophy
it is not interested. It is not moved to excitement by news
of an event in the world of painting or of metaphysics, as it is
by a new idea in the technique of rugby football or a movement
in prices. This is not said in any spirit of contempt, but it is
a new fact and, I believe, an ominous one. Yet philosophy,
art, religion, politics, science and education are all necessary
human activities, basal to civilization.
20 CIVILIZATION AND THE PHILOSOPHIC OUTLOOK.
The fact seems to be that the producers and the consumers
of spiritual wealth are out of touch, for the bridge between
them is broken. There is much production on one side and
much unsatisfied demand on the other, and the demand being
unsatisfied, takes many strange and illusory forms for its
gratification. It is not that our age suffers from a lack of
spiritual energy: we are still capable of "shunning delights
and living laborious days." Yet our civilization is in diffi
culties and is, in some peculiar way, morbid. For we have
lost hold of the vital principle of the unity of the mind and
of the general interpretation of the various activities of the
mind, in which each is influenced by all. The result is that
our civilization is not a healthy developing organism, and
despite all our fussy activity we have largely lost our peace
and happiness. The mark of modern centuries is the severance
from each other of man s various interests. A sort of
Negation peace has thus been won ; but it is an illusory peace ;
for peace means helpful interpretation and not self-centred
isolation. However intensely we may develop partial aspects
of experience, all is inward disunion. Priests and philosophers,
artists and scientists, statesmen and educators live alongside
each other. They do not live together, and no social organism
is formed. Yet, in reality, all the many sides of human nature
properly belong together, and they cannot function properly in
isolation. Men may be excused for thinking that in their
mutual separation lay the secret of their well-being, for have
not our modern triumphs been many and considerable? But,
sooner or later, partial views lead men into some desert where
the world of human life is lost and the very motive for going
forward disappears. This is the point to which we have
come to-day! Art, religion, science, philosophy, politics and
education have largely lost touch with the real needs of man
kind. Nowadays we can be as scientific, we can be as
philosophical, we can be as artistic, we can be as religious,
we can be as educated as we please, but we cannot be men at
all ; we are wrecks and fragments of men, and we do not know
where to take hold of life and how to begin looking for the
happiness which we know we do not possess.
I cannot hope in the compass of a single lecture even to
try to point out what we should do to be saved from these
present distresses. I would seek just to stress the necessity of
our aiming to reunite the scattered fragments into a complete
and undivided life. We can be sure that the only life worth
living is the life of the whole man, made possible by the
unification of every part of life in a single corporate mind,
in a single organic system. Probably, what we need first of
all to-day is a clear understanding of what is happening
CIVILIZATION AND THE PHILOSOPHIC OUTLOOK 21
in the various isolated fragments of human life, as they
develop more and more their negative freedom. I would
take, by way of illustration, certain salient tendencies:
education, politics, science, religion.
Education. It is vitally important that we should cease
to be hoodwinked by optimistic phrases about current educa
tion. To lose the power of self criticism is likely to end by
robbing us of more than we at present realize. We have
spread education quantitatively and we have largely
mechanized its control, but we fail to see that it has become
largely dehumanized. Our ideal is far more utilitarian than
humanistic. We pretend to be democratic, but we are really
plutocratic, for we think primarily of fitting the young to fill
some economic niche. Education is largely a "ladder"
leading to a competency, while it should be a highway leading
to fullness of life. The economic aspect of life, however
important, is not a sound basis for either culture or citizen
ship, as we are likely to find out as time goes on. The trail
of this particular serpent can be seen in both school and
university. In school it is the "bread and butter" subjects
which are popular, not the subjects that train the mind or
lay the foundation for a culture wide and deep. It is a
widely used argument for ceasing to study some subject or
other, that it is of "no use" to the boy or the girl, and it is
rarely asked of "what use" is the life of the young. Exact
thought, fineness of taste and stern self discipline are at a
discount, and the latest cliche is the gospel that the young just
need to "express themselves," whether or not their particular
kind of self is worth expressing. It is likely to end in what a
French writer has cleverly called "the cult of incompetence,"
in the decline of real mental power, in the production of the
informed but the uncultured, and in the pert provincialism of
lost manners and distinction.
It is significant, too, that far more attention is paid to
method than to the ideal of education; far more concern is
shown about the technique than about what may be called
the philosophy of education; the letter is stressed, while the
spirit is in danger of being lost. Surely, technique is not
nearly so important as personality. For personality in the
teacher makes personality in the pupils. A child is born a
person with amazing possibilities, and person must come
into contact with person. Education is thus essentially the
evidence of things not seen, the testing of things hoped for.
A child s mind is one and works all together and will only
develop naturally when all the possibilities of body and mind
and spirit are explored at once. If the child s mind may be
likened to Humpty Dumpty, we may say that we help to put
22 CIVILIZATION AND THE PHILOSOPHIC OUTLOOK.
asunder what God has joined, and we wonder that, after the
fall, not all the King s horses nor all the King s men are able
to put Humpty together again. In fact, the more utilitarian
our ideal becomes the less respect are we able to feel for the
sacredness of the child s personality. Hence, all those sides
of human nature which respond to the absolute value of truth
and beauty and goodness, tend to be treated as a sort of side
issue as compared with the dominant interest of "getting on."
In such an atmosphere, neither religion, nor morality, nor
art, in fact, no general point of view about life can have a
reasonable chance of taking successful root, and the youth is
dehumanized in so far forth. Antitheses are set up in the
child s mind which should never appear. Authority and
freedom are set over against each other, and the possibility of
proud subjection and dignified obedience are tragically missed.
An antithesis also appears between the society and the
individual, and the former either crushes the latter or the
latter adopts a futile attitude of revolt from the former. Again,
the mind is informed, but the will is uneducated, and the
emotions are starved, and if Wordsworth is right in declaring
that "We live by admiration, hope and love," a great deal of
our modern education is missing the mark most pathetically.
We fancy that information (the sort of thing which can be
tested by examination) is our main instrument of education.
In reality, it is only one channel through which the real
substance of education can run its course. Actually, education
is an atmosphere, a discipline and a life based on ideas and
spiritual nourishment. I believe that it is perfectly possible
to admire many individual aspects of much modern education,
and yet to hold that what I have said is substantially true.
The same trouble appears in many of our modern
universities. The very idea of a universitas of knowledge is
given up, and we are left a string of detached faculties, the
business of most of which is to give technical training in some
professional or commercial direction. The idea that a young
man or woman should receive a liberal or general education
before starting to undergo their technical training is frankly
given up. As soon as school is over the technical training
begins, and, in some cases, the needs of special faculties control,
through Governmental regulations, the details of the
curriculum. The result will be, of course, that even profes
sional people will become increasingly "one-eyed" and as
small as the means whereby they earn their living. From
such a policy it will be idle to expect the development of
leadership from those who should be most qualified to lead.
To my mind, it is a serious thing that education, which should
emancipate and broaden mankind, is likely to give him a
CIVILIZATION AND THE PHILOSOPHIC OUTLOOK. 23
partial and one-sided outlook. While it remains possible
for a professional man or woman to graduate and practise
without knowing much about the great institutions and
principles of history, or the great problems of philosophy, we
are quite obviously killing the goose that lays the golden egg.
I think it is clear that we need a good deal more of the
philosophic in regard to education; we need to see the whole
and not merely the part, the ideal and not merely the
technique. Great possibilities in the future of civilization
and culture depend thereon.
Politics. Another set of human problems which demand
a philosophic outlook, if they are to be solved aright, is what
we call the social problem, which includes politics, govern
ment, industry et cetera. This is pre-eminently the pressing
problem of our age, and on its solution depends to a large
extent the character of our civilization. In this sphere, we
find the same tendency at work, namely, the spirit of derisive
ness and mental antagonism with regard to "symptoms" and a
steady refusal to deal with "causes."
In politics and in industry, the essential and fundamental
idea, which needs elucidation, is that of the common weal.
Quite clearly, if there be no common weal, then social unity
is impossible, and social life will pass through disunion to
anarchy and back to the methods of the jungle; but equally
clear is it that the common weal cannot be defined in any
material sense, since the more I have of such material values
the less you have, and no distribution thereof can ever be
stable, unless the people who participate therein are able also
both to help and to enjoy a common weal which is not material
in character. It is, in short, the imponderable things, like
justice, love and brotherhood, which hold a community
together, and morality and religion are, as T. H. Green so
often reminded us, "the basis of political obligation." If a
state does not draw its inspiration from high ethical ideals,
and if those ideals are not based on eternal sanctions, all its
political and economic life is soured at the source. There may
be much activity; there will be little real progress. In other
words, the thought we need is that which works from the
welfare of the whole to the welfare of the parts, and comes
to see how important it is to the welfare of the whole that
the parts should be developed to their utmost capacity.
All our communities, so far as they really exist as
organisms, must be such as to call forth the unceasing
endeavour of every individual, and yet it must be the aim of
the community to develop all individuals up to their highest
possibilities. Clearly, no such community exists in material
form, but the vision of such a reality has been the magnetic
24 CIVILIZATION AND THE PHILOSOPHIC OUTLOOK.
power which has created such progress as we have actually
won in the past. No mere analysis of existing communities
can create such a vision. It is a matter first of all of faith,
duty and loyalty, and then of achievement. Because we have
lost so much of this vision of community life, we are left with
a series of false antitheses which darken our horizon and
drive many who should be leaders to forsake the social task
altogether.
Both in politics and industry it is the fruitful inter
weaving of the two principles of order and liberty that brings
progress. But nowadays they are set up against each other
in fruitless isolation. Liberty is falsely conceived as the
licence of the individual, or the party, or the class to do
what they please in their own interest; and the best con
ception of order we can attain to is a system which crushes
initiative and leads people to think that,- if we only lean up
against each other long enough, progress will ensue. Thus,
anarchy, both amongst the rich and the poor, faces various
systems of control, such as theoretical state socialism, or the
recrudescence of despotism both of them equally futile. An
order that crushes freedom, and a liberty that degenerates
into licence, seem to be the charming results which follow the
loss of the philosophic attitude to community life. The result
is a whirling wheel of action and reaction, whereby despotism
passes into democracy and democracy back again to despotism.
The same trouble appears once more in the vicious
antithesis between the individual and the society. A philo
sophic attitude of mind would bring people down from empty
theories to an appreciation of the concrete difficulty of this
whole problem. We would see how easy it is to educate the
individual out of his sense of social unity, and how fatally
easy it is to mistake ignorant crowd psychology for the
reasoned judgment of a true group. The world to-day is full
of detached individuals who have little capacity and less
conscience, individuals out on the make, who know not how
to use either success or failure. Contempt on one side and
envy on the other rend the social organism to pieces. And
those very individuals are not seldom the prey of crowd
psychologies, in principle both violent and absurd. We have
largely lost touch with the principle that "if we don t hang
together we will hang separately," as the American humourist
has it.
Once more, a false antithesis has been created between
the State and society, between the organ of government and
those social groupings of which it is the government. The
very idea of a philosophy of the State and society is hardly
considered. Here I would simply re-echo the profound words
CIVILIZATION AND THE PHILOSOPHIC OUTLOOK. 25
of the late Lord Acton, who said that the doctrine of the
omni-competent State is chief idol and the greatest danger of
modern history. Since the Renaissance the view has developed,
first under monarchies and then under national governments,
that outside the governmental State no social groupings has
more than a concessionary right to exist. The family, the
guild, the church, the union, the educational organism (be
it university or school) has no inherent right to exist and
function, and no real freedom of action. Thus the big machine
is constructed ; men learn to lean up against it, become passive,
and then are not big enough to manage effectively the big
machine that has warped them. I am convinced that freedom
in our age largely depends on the recovery of the view that the
State does not consist merely of individuals, but is a society
consisting of many societies. It is in the smaller (but not less
important) social groupings that the individual first learns
the organic relation of the individual and society; and if he
does not learn and relearn this lesson there, he will inevitably
invoke the larger unity of the State to crush his freedom, or
he will arise and smash it.
Science. A third set of problems, now being created in
our civilization, arises from the recent wonderful progress of
natural science. Broadly speaking, the problem arises from
the fact that there is little philosophic background in men s
minds to help them to correlate the various kinds of scientific
knowledge into a sound general view. A great deal of
unnecessary scepticism and loss of progress has resulted, not
from science itself, but from the absence of a sound philosophic
outlook thereon. This may have been partly due to the
antagonism during the last half of the 19th century between
"philosophers" and "men of science." Many philosophers were
hopelessly inaccurate in their knowledge of the facts with
which serious thinking has to do, and many men of science
promulgated first principles which were simply improvisation
wild and weird. Some metaphysicians wish to exalt their
own pursuits at the expense of the special sciences; and some
scientists were wont to pride themselves on the contrast
between the supposed finality and definiteness of their own
results, and the supposed vagueness and dubiousness of the
conclusions of the philosophers.
But the fact is that neither philosophy nor science can be
fruitfully prosecuted unless workers in both fields of
knowledge understand the necessary interrelations of their
efforts. Our theories of first principles require to be
constantly revised, purified and quickened by contact with
knowledge of detailed fact, and our representations of fact
call for constant restatement in terms of more and more
26 CIVILIZATION AND THE PHILOSOPHIC OUTLOOK.
ultimate principles. It is noteworthy that in the last fifty
years there has been an equally remarkable extension of our
knowledge at the extreme ends of these two processes. At the
one end a marvellous development of knowledge of scientific
detail which will ultimately help both philosophy and religion,
and at the other end an equally remarkable advance in pure
mathematics and logic. But, in between those two extremes,
there has been great vagueness and uncertainty as to the
meaning and the implication of the categories used in different
sciences, and our materialisms and mechanisms have been the
result. Nowadays, however, in the works of leading thinkers
(though not yet in the mind of "the man in the street" who
generally erects into a scientific orthodoxy views long out of
date) there is a growing recognition that any subject of
discourse must be treated in categories suitable to that special
study. The philosophical idea of degrees of reality has come
to stay. And as philosophy comes into more helpful contact
with scientific research, we can expect to see that scientific
ideas of explanation are but symbolisms, adequate only to
picture for us a limited view of reality. When we see that
scientific descriptions and generalizations are only symbols,
as a steel frame is a symbol of a building to be built, we will
be able to use science without thinking that it solves the
problem of reality or exhausts the wonder of the universe;
then science will become a great and liberating force in the
life of civilization.
Religion. Finally, I would ask you to consider how far
our religious difficulties in the present age are due to the
lack of what I have called the philosophic outlook.
Our religious difficulty is mainly due to the relation
of religion to the other sides of life, such as art,
philosophy and science. Keligion has suffered, just as art
and philosophy have suffered, from the derisiveness which we
have seen to be so prominent a feature of our modern centuries.
The churches, we are told, have lost touch with the people. It
is true, and it cannot be mended either by scolding the people
or by abusing the priests (and the same can be said of art
and philosophy). It is the fruit of the Renaissance. The
votaries of religion wanted religion for religion s sake, just as
the artists asked for art for art s sake and the philosophers
asked for truth for truth s sake; and the longed for freedom
has now come home to roost in the form of the disruption of
life, and we now begin to see that what is wrong with us is
the detachment of the different forms of experience from one
another, and our cure can only be their reunion in a complete
and undivided life. Moreover, the new experience of recent
centuries should enable us to obtain a union of life in all its
CIVILIZATION AND THE PHILOSOPHIC OUTLOOK. 27
aspects, far less hasty and far less of a compromise than was
even the case in the mediaeval or the early centuries.
For the fundamental principle of Christianity is that
the only life worth living is the life of the whole man, every
faculty of body and mind unified into a single organic system.
Again, it is the outer aspect of this same principle on which
Christianity insists when it teaches that the individual man,
just because of the absolute worth of every individual, is
nothing without his fellow men, that the Holy Spirit lives,
not in this man or that, but in the Church as the unity of all
faithful people. No one who has outgrown paganism can be
content with being "everything by turns and nothing long."
He must unify his life somehow by bringing every activity into
harmony, for the Christianity of the plucked-out eye and the
lopped-off limb is a poor and uninteresting thing. But the
unity we seek will not be the naive Christianity of the
Mediaeval Ages, nor the self-mutilated Christianity of the
centuries following the Kenaissance, but something in which
the good of both these is preserved, the bad destroyed. Ever
since the barren negations of the 18th century, it has been
clear that some new unification of Christianity was the only
hope for the world s future. Here, again, it is Plato s
"synoptic glance," the power to see life steadily and see it
whole, which we need. Partiality, prejudice and intolerance
must flee away, and the w r orld will once more set out on the
journey for that city which hath foundations whose Builder
and Maker is God.
There is no sceptic so deadly as the quasi-religious apologist,
who seeks to build religion on the shifting sands of mere
custom or sentiment. Again and again, in the modern history
of the Church, philosophic acumen would have saved us the
unedifying spectacle of foolish panic at the supposed results
likely to flow from some new discoveries in natural, historical,
or psychological science. At the present time, it is clear that
impartial philosophic discussion could help greatly to rescue
the various parts of Christendom from turning aspects of faith
and practice into unrelated and distorted shibboleths. But it
will be able to do this only if it knows religion from the
"inside," as it is lived and loved in concrete religious tradition.
Moreover, we are on the verge of finding out how to combine
authority and freedom in religion as in social life, and, as
Leibnitz long ago proved, philosophy could help to prepare
the human mind to overcome this most fatal antithesis.
In these and other ways, a philosophic attitude can help
us to build a true civilization and recover for humanity the
unity of life which is man s greatest desire and his only hope.
PSYCHOLOGY, LEADERSHIP AND DEMOCRACY.
By WILLIAM D. TAIT, Ph.D.,
Chairman, Department of Psychology, McCill
University, Montreal.
IT is a truism to say that it is the function of leaders
to lead. There is one aspect of democracy as practised to-day
which appears to debar true leadership. This defect is not
inherent in the democratic principle itself, but appears to
have been accepted in some way or other and has, to a
certain extent, become a tradition in democratic countries.
Men who are elected to represent the people in deliberative
assemblies do not regard themselves as leaders of the people,
nor do the people so regard them. Those deputed to enact
legislation, in most cases consider themselves as bound to
follow the immediate will of the people and do not take it
as a duty that they should lead the people onward to a higher
and more developed form of the people s own will which may
as yet be unconscious.
This attitude, both on the part of the people and their
representatives, prevents democracy from coming to its own
and reaching higher than the average political mind; it pre
vents democracy from rising above the present level and pro
ducing aristocrats in the true sense of the term; it prevents
democracy from finding leaders. The state is thus left to
struggle blindly on without moral and intellectual guidance.
Those chosen by democratic methods, and this is where the
true meaning of democracy lies, should hold fast to the prin
ciple that they are chosen to make progress not to follow
the mass, but to lead. The people, too, should so regard
those whom they themselves place in authority. They are
there to represent the people on the road of advancement.
All cannot be leaders for then there would be no leaders.
Democracies differ from absolute monarchies, tyrannies,
oligarchies in that the people choose who shall lead. It should
not necessarily follow from this that those selected are to
consider themselves as mere agents. No business could be
run on the principle that the president and the directors were
to be merely the echoes of the shareholders. On the contrary,
they are placed in office to advance the interests of the
company, and it is this point of view which has been lost sight
1 Because of its special applicability to Australasian conditions this
article is reproduced here by the kind permission of the author and the
editor of The Journal of Abnormal and Social Psychology in Vol. XXII,
No. 1 of which it first appeared.
PSYCHOLOGY, LEADERSHIP AND DEMOCRACY. 29
of in affairs of state. This is the reason why state activities
are so often behindhand. Men at the head of affairs wait until
the mass has begun to move and have either forgotten that
they are supposed to lead or are too timorous to do so. It
may be that the desire for office, that is selfishness, accounts
for this attitude on the part of the legislators, but it does
not account for it on the part of the people. This weakness
in democratic affairs can be easily remedied if only men of
courage, vision, high-minded ideals, and unselfishness are
selected to direct. That such men are so infrequently elected
is a serious indictment upon our civilization, a symptom
that the dearth of leaders in civilized countries is to be
attributed to a lowered state of intelligence and enlightenment.
The individual and his merits are lost in the mass of
opinions, and hence one of the greatest problems of the time
is to find the individual. In past ages, the individual was
prominent to the exclusion of the many. To-day, the many
are prominent to the exclusion of the individual, and there
has been lost the secret of finding leaders in state affairs.
Private concerns find no such difficulty, for the worth of the
individual is recognized by an intelligent group. Not so
with the mass of the people. If democracy would move for
ward to an aristocracy of worth, some elimination must take
place in order that the stupid, or those unable to exercise
the rights of citizenship, will not have a voice in control.
To the end that democracy be fully actualized, it must devise
a method of choosing leaders on the part of the people and
a realization of those so chosen in what their duty consists.
After all, a country is great because of its great men. That
few of them are found in the direct governing of the country
is a reflection on democracy and evidence that the principles
of this great movement are not yet appreciated by the mass.
During the last few years, groups have grown up, or
perhaps they have become more manifest. This aspect of our
political life is detrimental to any democracy. When a seat
in parliament represents any one group, then we are back
to the days of oligarchy and not necessarily an intelligent
or moral one. By this means certain groups are undermining
the very principles of democracy, because the political strife
is really a battle between the various groups and not one
of general welfare to the country. What greatness and accom
plishment has taken place in the world has been due to the
labours of great men, not of great groups. Consider the
progress in science, in art, in literature, in religion and it all
harks back to the contribution of individuals. Individualism
in the old sense is dead, but we require a new individualism
to-day, else we perish. To save democracy we must save
30 PSYCHOLOGY, LEADERSHIP AND DEMOCRACY.
the individual from the tyranny of the mass. If democracy is
to be true to its own faith, if it is to govern in such a
way as to give all possible opportunity to all men in accord
ance with their talents, then it cannot afford to lose sight
of the fact that the individual must be preserved for the
attainment of this ideal.
It may seem a far cry from leadership and democracy
to psychology. Yet it will be found they are intimately con
nected, for our government is but a reflection of the average
mentality of our people, and if this is lowered by bad stock
or weakened by too much pampering legislation, then we
shall lack the ability to produce leaders, and even those who
are fit to be leaders will have their task made an impossible
one by reason of the low degree of intelligence or absence
of moral stamina.
The most important thing in this world is the human
mind. The human mind is the real conqueror of nature.
The human mind gives us the rich world of imagination
portayed in literature, art, science and folk-lore. Our chief
aim, then, as a race should be to produce the highest type
of mentality and insure that it is immortalized from genera
tion to generation by being associated with an equally superior
body. From the racial and long distance point of view, mind
cannot exist and function without body. Kacially, a superior
mind can exist only in conjunction with a superior body.
If the mind alone is developed, the very ideal set before us
is defeated, for the body will be weak and a brilliant mind will
cease when a certain body perishes. If the body had also
been developed, the mind would have become an inheritance.
History shows us that it is the physically stable races which
survive; therefore, the preservation of healthy minds and the
accumulation of such minds as a racial acquirement depends
on an all round development body and mind together.
It would appear that in the present era of western
civilization there is too much maternalism. Some use the
term paternalism, but the attitude is too soft, tender and
almost flabby to be designated by a masculine term. Due
to this attitude the unfits, misfits and ineffectives are kept
alive, nourished and protected as a Christian virtue, although
one fails to find good scripture as its basis, but rather the
reverse. This class is allowed to multiply, and multiply it
does. By defeating the law of natural selection, feeble minds
and feeble bodies are allowed to come into existence, allowed
to reproduce their kind and thus lower the general well-bein 
