Psychology - Robert S. Woodworth (trending books to read TXT) 📗

sign of impeded progress of nerve currents through the brain centers.

3. There is one fact, not yet taken into account, that may point the way to a better theory. Feeling is impulsive. In pleasantness, the impulse is to "stand pat" and let the pleasant state continue; in unpleasantness, the impulse is to end the state. The impulse of pleasantness is directed towards keeping what is pleasant, and the impulse of unpleasantness is directed towards getting rid of the unpleasant. In indifference there is no tendency either to keep or to be {178} rid of. These facts are so obvious as scarcely to need mention, yet they may be the core of this whole matter of feeling. Certainly they are the most important facts yet brought out as relating feeling to conduct.

Putting this fact into neural terms, we say that pleasantness goes with a neural adjustment directed towards keeping, towards letting things stay as they are; while unpleasantness goes with an adjustment towards riddance. Bitter is unpleasant because we are so organized, by native constitution, as to make the riddance adjustment on receiving this particular stimulus. In plain language, we seek, to be rid of it, and that is the same as saying it is unpleasant. Sweet is pleasant for a similar reason.

There is some evidence that these adjustments occur in that part of the brain called the thalamus. [Footnote: See p. 65.]

Sources of Pleasantness and Unpleasantness

Laying aside now the difficult question of the organic and cerebral nature of the feelings, we turn to the simpler question of the stimuli that arouse them. A very important fact immediately arrests our attention. There are two different kinds of stimuli for pleasantness, and two corresponding kinds for unpleasantness. The one kind is typified by sweet and bitter, the other by success and failure. Some things are pleasant (or unpleasant) without regard to any already awakened desire, while other things are pleasant (or unpleasant) only because of such a desire. A sweet taste is pleasant even though we were not desiring it at the moment, and a bitter taste is unpleasant though we had no expectation of getting it and no desire awakened to avoid it. On the other hand, the sight of our stone hitting the tree is pleasant only because we were aiming at the tree, and {179} the sight of the stone going to one side of the tree is unpleasant just for the same reason.

Some things we want. Because we like them; Some things we like. Because we want them.

We want candy, because we like the sweet taste; but we like a cold drink because and when we are thirsty and not otherwise. Thirst is a want for water, a state of the organism that impels us to drink; and when we are in this state, we like a drink, a drink is pleasant then. How absurd it would be to say that we were thirsty because we liked to drink! when the fact is that we like to drink because we are thirsty. The desire to drink must first be aroused, and then drinking is pleasant.

What is true of thirst is true of hunger, or of any organic need. The need must first be aroused, and then its satisfaction is pleasant. This applies just as well to fighting, laughing, fondling a baby, and to all the instincts. It gives you no pleasure to strike or kick a person, or to swear at him, unless you are first angry with him. It gives you no pleasure to go through the motions of laughing unless you "want to laugh", i.e., unless you are amused. It gives you no pleasure to fondle the baby unless you love the baby. Let any instinct be first aroused, and then the result at which the instinct is aimed causes pleasure, but the same result will cause no pleasure unless the instinct has been aroused.

The same can be said of desires that are not exactly instinctive. At a football game, for example, when one of the players kicks the ball and it sails between the goal posts, half of the spectators yell with joy, while the other half {180} groan in agony. Why should the appearance of a ball sailing between two posts be so pleasant to some, and unpleasant to others? This particular appearance is by itself neither pleasant nor unpleasant, but because the desire to see this happen has been previously aroused in the partisans of one team, and the desire that it should not happen in the partisans of the other, therefore it is that the pleasantness or unpleasantness occurs. First arouse any desire, and then you can give pleasure by gratifying it, displeasure by thwarting it. This is the pleasure of success, and the unpleasantness of failure.

Pleasures of this class may be named secondary, because they depend upon pre-aroused desires.

Primary Likes and Dislikes

Though many of the most intense pleasures and displeasures of life are of the secondary type, this fact must not blind us to the existence of the primary pleasures and displeasures, typified by sweet and bitter. Any sensation with a pronounced feeling-tone is a primary pleasure or displeasure. We like or dislike it just for itself, and without regard to the gratification of any pre-aroused instinct or desire.

There are natural likes and dislikes--apart from the satisfaction of instincts--and there are others that are acquired. In other words, there are native tastes and acquired tastes. Individuals differ considerably in their native tastes, and still more in their acquired tastes. Liking for sweets is native, liking for fragrant odors is native, but liking for lemonade, or black coffee, or olives, or cheese, is acquired, and not acquired by everybody. Liking for bright colors is native, but liking for subdued colors, and the special pleasure in color harmonies, are acquired. So we might {181} run through the list of the senses, finding under each some sensations with native feeling-tone, and other sensations that acquire feeling-tone through experience.

Some people have a native liking for numbers and other facts of a mathematical nature. We say of such a one that he has a natural taste for mathematics. Another has a natural dislike for the same. Some have a taste for things of the mechanical sort, others fight shy of such things. Some have a natural taste for people, being sociable creatures--which means more than being gregarious--while others are little interested in mixing with people, observing their ways, and the give and take of friendly intercourse.

Now the question arises whether these native likes and dislikes, for odors, colors, tones, numbers, machinery, and people, are really independent of the instincts. Some psychologists have insisted that all the interest and satisfaction of life were derived from the instincts, laying special stress on the instincts of curiosity and self-assertion.

With respect to our "natural liking for mathematics", these psychologists would argue as follows: "First off, curiosity is aroused by numbers, as it may be by any novel fact; then the child, finding he can do things with numbers, gratifies his mastery impulse by playing with them. He encounters number problems, and his mastery impulse is again aroused in the effort to solve the problems. Later, he is able to 'show off' and win applause by his mathematical feats, and thus the social form of self-assertion is brought into play. This particular child may have good native ability for mathematics, and consequently his mastery impulse is specially gratified by this kind of activity; but he has no real direct liking for mathematics, and all his industry in this field is motivated by curiosity and especially by self-assertion."

The instinct psychologists have a strong case here, as {182} they would have also in regard to the liking for machinery. Still, the mathematical individual would not be convinced, for he would testify that numbers, etc., made a direct appeal to him. Numbers, geometric forms, and algebraic transformations are fascinating to him, and there is something beautiful, to his mind, in the relationships that are discovered. The same could be said of the liking for plant or animal life that appears in the "born biologist". If the objects of the world make a direct appeal to the man whose mind is attuned to them, then his interest and zeal in studying them are not wholly derived from the instincts. The instincts come into play, truly enough, in all scientific work, and add impetus to it, but the primary motive is a direct liking for the kind of facts studied.

"Primary likes and dislikes" are still more clearly in evidence in the arts than in the sciences. Take the color art, for example. There can be no manner of doubt that bright colors are natively pleasant. Can we explain the liking for color as derived from satisfaction of the instincts? Is it due simply to curiosity? No, for then the color would no longer be attractive after it had ceased to be a novelty. Is color liked simply for purposes of self-display? No, this would not explain our delight in the colors of nature. Or do color effects constitute problems that challenge the mastery impulse? This might fit the case of intricate color designs, but not the strong, simple color effects that appeal to most people. There is no escape from the conclusion that color is liked for its own sake, and that this primary liking is the foundation of color art.

Music, in the same way, is certainly based on a primary liking for tones and their combinations, as well as for rhythm. Novel effects also appeal to curiosity, musical performance is a means of display to the performer, and the problem set by a piece of music to the performer in the {183} way of execution, and to the listener in the way of understanding and appreciation, gives plenty of play to the mastery impulse. Besides, music gets associated with love, tenderness, war and religion; but none of the impulses thus gratified by music is the fundamental reason for music, since without the primary taste for tone and rhythm there would be no music to start with, and therefore no chance for these various impulses to find an outlet in this direction.

Still another field of human activity, in which native likes and dislikes play their part alongside of the instincts, is the field of social life. The gregarious instinct brings individuals together into social groups, and probably also makes the individual crave participation in the doings of the group. The sex instinct lends a special interest to those members of the group who are of the opposite sex, and the parental instinct leads the adults to take a protective attitude towards the little children. Also, it is probably due to the parental instinct that any one spontaneously seeks to help the helpless. Self-assertion has plenty of play in a group, both in the way of seeking to dominate and in the way of resisting domination; and the submissive tendency finds an outlet in admiring and following those who far surpass us. Thwarted self-assertion accounts for many of the dislikes that develop between the members of a group. But none of these instincts accounts for the interest in personality, or for the genuine liking that people may have for one another.

Let a group of persons of the same age and sex get together, all equals for the time being, no one seeking to dominate the rest, no one bowing to another as his superior nor chafing against an assumed superiority which he does not admit, no one in a helpless or unfortunate condition that arouses the pity of the rest. What an uninteresting affair! No instincts called into play except bare gregariousness! {184} On the contrary, such a group affords almost or quite the maximum of social pleasure. It affords scope for comradeship and good fellowship, which are based on a native liking for people, and not on the instincts.

Enough has perhaps been said