The Analysis of Mind - Bertrand Russell (brene brown rising strong .TXT) 📗

to cause a certain result, and continuing

until that result is caused, unless they are interrupted by

death, accident, or some new behaviour-cycle. (Here “accident”

may be defined as the intervention of purely physical laws

causing mechanical movements.)

 

The “purpose” of a behaviour-cycle is the result which brings it

to an end, normally by a condition of temporary

quiescence-provided there is no interruption.

 

An animal is said to “desire” the purpose of a behaviour cycle

while the behaviour-cycle is in progress.

 

I believe these definitions to be adequate also to human purposes

and desires, but for the present I am only occupied with animals

and with what can be learnt by external observation. I am very

anxious that no ideas should be attached to the words “purpose”

and “desire” beyond those involved in the above definitions.

 

We have not so far considered what is the nature of the initial

stimulus to a behaviour-cycle. Yet it is here that the usual view

of desire seems on the strongest ground. The hungry animal goes

on making movements until it gets food; it seems natural,

therefore, to suppose that the idea of food is present throughout

the process, and that the thought of the end to be achieved sets

the whole process in motion. Such a view, however, is obviously

untenable in many cases, especially where instinct is concerned.

Take, for example, reproduction and the rearing of the young.

Birds mate, build a nest, lay eggs in it, sit on the eggs, feed

the young birds, and care for them until they are fully grown. It

is totally impossible to suppose that this series of actions,

which constitutes one behaviour-cycle, is inspired by any

prevision of the end, at any rate the first time it is

performed.* We must suppose that the stimulus to the performance

of each act is an impulsion from behind, not an attraction from

the future. The bird does what it does, at each stage, because it

has an impulse to that particular action, not because it

perceives that the whole cycle of actions will contribute to the

preservation of the species. The same considerations apply to

other instincts. A hungry animal feels restless, and is led by

instinctive impulses to perform the movements which give it

nourishment; but the act of seeking food is not sufficient

evidence from which to conclude that the animal has the thought

of food in its “mind.”

 

* For evidence as to birds’ nests, cf. Semon, “Die Mneme,” pp.

209, 210.

 

Coming now to human beings, and to what we know about our own

actions, it seems clear that what, with us, sets a

behaviour-cycle in motion is some sensation of the sort which we

call disagreeable. Take the case of hunger: we have first an

uncomfortable feeling inside, producing a disinclination to sit

still, a sensitiveness to savoury smells, and an attraction

towards any food that there may be in our neighbourhood. At any

moment during this process we may become aware that we are

hungry, in the sense of saying to ourselves, “I am hungry”; but

we may have been acting with reference to food for some time

before this moment. While we are talking or reading, we may eat

in complete unconsciousness; but we perform the actions of eating

just as we should if we were conscious, and they cease when our

hunger is appeased. What we call “consciousness” seems to be a

mere spectator of the process; even when it issues orders, they

are usually, like those of a wise parent, just such as would have

been obeyed even if they had not been given. This view may seem

at first exaggerated, but the more our so-called volitions and

their causes are examined, the more it is forced upon us. The

part played by words in all this is complicated, and a potent

source of confusions; I shall return to it later. For the

present, I am still concerned with primitive desire, as it exists

in man, but in the form in which man shows his affinity to his

animal ancestors.

 

Conscious desire is made up partly of what is essential to

desire, partly of beliefs as to what we want. It is important to

be clear as to the part which does not consist of beliefs.

 

The primitive non-cognitive element in desire seems to be a push,

not a pull, an impulsion away from the actual, rather than an

attraction towards the ideal. Certain sensations and other mental

occurrences have a property which we call discomfort; these cause

such bodily movements as are likely to lead to their cessation.

When the discomfort ceases, or even when it appreciably

diminishes, we have sensations possessing a property which we

call PLEASURE. Pleasurable sensations either stimulate no action

at all, or at most stimulate such action as is likely to prolong

them. I shall return shortly to the consideration of what

discomfort and pleasure are in themselves; for the present, it is

their connection with action and desire that concerns us.

Abandoning momentarily the standpoint of behaviourism, we may

presume that hungry animals experience sensations involving

discomfort, and stimulating such movements as seem likely to

bring them to the food which is outside the cages. When they have

reached the food and eaten it, their discomfort ceases and their

sensations become pleasurable. It SEEMS, mistakenly, as if the

animals had had this situation in mind throughout, when in fact

they have been continually pushed by discomfort. And when an

animal is reflective, like some men, it comes to think that it

had the final situation in mind throughout; sometimes it comes to

know what situation will bring satisfaction, so that in fact the

discomfort does bring the thought of what will allay it.

Nevertheless the sensation involving discomfort remains the prime

mover.

 

This brings us to the question of the nature of discomfort and

pleasure. Since Kant it has been customary to recognize three

great divisions of mental phenomena, which are typified by

knowledge, desire and feeling, where “feeling” is used to mean

pleasure and discomfort. Of course, “knowledge” is too definite a

word: the states of mind concerned are grouped together as

“cognitive,” and are to embrace not only beliefs, but

perceptions, doubts, and the understanding of concepts. “Desire,”

also, is narrower than what is intended: for example, WILL is to

be included in this category, and in fact every thing that

involves any kind of striving, or “conation” as it is technically

called. I do not myself believe that there is any value in this

threefold division of the contents of mind. I believe that

sensations (including images) supply all the “stuff” of the mind,

and that everything else can be analysed into groups of

sensations related in various ways, or characteristics of

sensations or of groups of sensations. As regards belief, I shall

give grounds for this view in later lectures. As regards desires,

I have given some grounds in this lecture. For the present, it is

pleasure and discomfort that concern us. There are broadly three

theories that might be held in regard to them. We may regard them

as separate existing items in those who experience them, or we

may regard them as intrinsic qualities of sensations and other

mental occurrences, or we may regard them as mere names for the

causal characteristics of the occurrences which are uncomfortable

or pleasant. The first of these theories, namely, that which

regards discomfort and pleasure as actual contents in those who

experience them, has, I think, nothing conclusive to be said in

its favour.* It is suggested chiefly by an ambiguity in the word

“pain,” which has misled many people, including Berkeley, whom it

supplied with one of his arguments for subjective idealism. We

may use “pain” as the opposite of “pleasure,” and “painful” as

the opposite of “pleasant,” or we may use “pain” to mean a

certain sort of sensation, on a level with the sensations of heat

and cold and touch. The latter use of the word has prevailed in

psychological literature, and it is now no longer used as the

opposite of “pleasure.” Dr. H. Head, in a recent publication, has

stated this distinction as follows:**

 

* Various arguments in its favour are advanced by A. Wohlgemuth,

“On the feelings and their neural correlate, with an examination

of the nature of pain,” “British Journal of Psychology,” viii, 4.

(1917). But as these arguments are largely a reductio ad absurdum

of other theories, among which that which I am advocating is not

included, I cannot regard them as establishing their contention.

 

** “Sensation and the Cerebral Cortex,” “Brain,” vol. xli, part

ii (September, 1918), p. 90. Cf. also Wohlgemuth, loc. cit. pp.

437, 450.

 

“It is necessary at the outset to distinguish clearly between

‘discomfort’ and ‘pain.’ Pain is a distinct sensory quality

equivalent to heat and cold, and its intensity can be roughly

graded according to the force expended in stimulation.

Discomfort, on the other hand, is that feeling-tone which is

directly opposed to pleasure. It may accompany sensations not in

themselves essentially painful; as for instance that produced by

tickling the sole of the foot. The reaction produced by repeated

pricking contains both these elements; for it evokes that sensory

quality known as pain, accompanied by a disagreeable

feeling-tone, which we have called discomfort. On the other hand,

excessive pressure, except when applied directly over some

nerve-trunk, tends to excite more discomfort than pain.”

 

The confusion between discomfort and pain has made people regard

discomfort as a more substantial thing than it is, and this in

turn has reacted upon the view taken of pleasure, since

discomfort and pleasure are evidently on a level in this respect.

As soon as discomfort is clearly distinguished from the sensation

of pain, it becomes more natural to regard discomfort and

pleasure as properties of mental occurrences than to regard them

as separate mental occurrences on their own account. I shall

therefore dismiss the view that they are separate mental

occurrences, and regard them as properties of such experiences as

would be called respectively uncomfortable and pleasant.

 

It remains to be examined whether they are actual qualities of

such occurrences, or are merely differences as to causal

properties. I do not myself see any way of deciding this

question; either view seems equally capable of accounting for the

facts. If this is true, it is safer to avoid the assumption that

there are such intrinsic qualities of mental occurrences as are

in question, and to assume only the causal differences which are

undeniable. Without condemning the intrinsic theory, we can

define discomfort and pleasure as consisting in causal

properties, and say only what will hold on either of the two

theories. Following this course, we shall say:

 

“Discomfort” is a property of a sensation or other mental

occurrence, consisting in the fact that the occurrence in

question stimulates voluntary or reflex movements tending to

produce some more or less definite change involving the cessation

of the occurrence.

 

“Pleasure” is a property of a sensation or other mental

occurrence, consisting in the fact that the occurrence in

question either does not stimulate any voluntary or reflex

movement, or, if it does, stimulates only such as tend to prolong

the occurrence in question.*

 

* Cf. Thorndike, op. cit., p. 243.

 

“Conscious” desire, which we have now to consider, consists of

desire in the sense hitherto discussed, together with a true

belief as to its “purpose,” i.e. as to the state of affairs that

will bring quiescence with cessation of the discomfort. If our

theory of desire is correct, a belief as to its purpose may very

well be erroneous, since only experience can show what causes a

discomfort to cease. When the experience needed is common and

simple, as in the case of hunger, a mistake is not very probable.

But