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

thoughts count in the world. But we do find men who are impatient of thought and want to get into action at once, even without knowing just what they are about, and other men who seem quite contented to think and plan, without any definite intention of ever putting their plans into execution. The former type, the impulsive individual, is not difficult to understand, his behavior fits in so well with the primitive trial-and-error sort of activity; but the mere thinker seems an anomaly, in view of the general psychological principle that thought tends toward motor action.

In accounting for the inactive thinker, we have to remember, first, that some inhibition of immediate action is often necessary, in order to have time to think the matter over; this prudent attitude becomes a habit with some individuals. Besides, there are the negative motives of fear, shyness and laziness that tend to deter from the actual execution of a plan. Hamlet's "conscience" that makes "cowards of us all", so that "the native hue of resolution is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought, and enterprises of great pith and moment . . . lose the name of action" turns out, if we look a few lines further back, to be the "dread of something" unknown, that "puzzles the will, and makes us rather bear those ills we have than fly to others that we know not of". {540} Fear--fear of unforeseen consequences, fear of committing ourselves, fear of ridicule--is one great inhibiter of action, and inertia is another, since it is much less strenuous to sit in the armchair and plan than to get out and put the plan into effect. Besides this, some people who are good at planning come to take so much pride and satisfaction in the thinking part of an enterprise that they do not feel the need for action. Moreover, you can "plan" in a large way, without bothering about details, but once you start to execute your plan you encounter details and preliminaries which are apt to rob the enterprise of its zest. Here is where persistence and effort are needed.

Abulia--"no will"--is an abnormal degree of lack of zest for action. Along with it go timidity and lack of social force, proneness to rumination and daydreaming, and often a feeling of being compelled to perform useless acts, such as doing everything three times or continual washing of the hands. Abulia is not just a comfortable laziness, but is attended by a sense of humiliation and inferiority. It shows itself in excessive hesitation and vacillation and in failure to accomplish anything of consequence. Sometimes the subject expends much effort, but fails to direct the effort towards the execution of his purposes. Some authorities have ascribed abulia to inertia or "low mental tension", some to an overdose of fear and caution, some to the paralyzing effect of suppressed desires still living in the "unconscious". Mild degrees of it, such as are not uncommon, seem sometimes to be due to the hiatus that is bound to exist between the end one has in view and the means one must take to start towards that end. One has zest for reaching the goal, but not for the preliminaries.

An author, whose case was studied because he was accomplishing so little, was found to follow a daily program about as follows. He would get up in the morning full of {541} confidence that this was going to be a good day, with much progress made in his book. Before starting to write, however, he must first have his breakfast, and then a little fresh air, just to prepare himself for energetic work. On returning from his walk, he thought it best to rest for a few moments, and then one or two other little matters seemed to demand attention; by the time these were done, the morning was so far gone that there was no time for a really good effort, so he optimistically postponed the writing till the afternoon, when the same sort of thing happened, and the great performance had to be put over till the next day. This man did better under a regime prescribed by his medical adviser, who commanded him to write for two hours immediately after rising, and make this his day's work--no more and no less than two hours. The definiteness of this task prevented dawdling.

Other writers have noted a curious tendency to "fight shy" of the passage actually being written and let the thoughts move ahead and plan out the later passages. Sometimes it is necessary to trick yourself if you are to get anything done; you say, "I can't write this properly just now; I'll just sketch out a preliminary draft"--on which understanding you may be able to write, whereas you could not if you thought you were writing "for keeps"; but when you have got well started and warmed to the task, you may find your work good enough to keep, after all. Judging by these mild cases, abulia may be due partly to distaste for the details of actual performance, and partly to a dread of committing oneself to anything that has the stamp of finality.

Securing Action

No chapter in psychology offers more in the way of practical applications than this chapter on the will--if we only {542} knew more on the subject! How to get action, either from yourself, or from others if you are responsible for their action, is a big practical problem. A few hints on the matter are suggested by what precedes.

How to get action from yourself--how to liberate your latent energies and accomplish what you are capable of accomplishing. A definite purpose is the first requirement; without that one merely drifts, with no persistency and no great energy. The goal should be something that appeals vitally to you, and something which you can attain; not too distant a goal; or, if the ultimate goal is distant, there must be mileposts along the way which you can take as more immediate goals; for a goal that can be reached by immediate action enlists more present effort. The student puts more energy into his study when the examination is close at hand; and, although this is regrettable, it reveals a fact in human nature that can be utilized in the management of yourself or others. A well defined and clearly visible goal is a much better energy-releaser than vague "good intentions".

The more clearly you can see and measure your approach towards the goal, the more action; thus it has been found in many different lines that the "practice curve method" of training gives quicker and better results than ordinary drill. In the practice curve [Footnote: See p. 321.] you have a picture of your progress; you are encouraged by seeing how far you have advanced, and stimulated to surpass your past record, and thus your immediate goal is made very definite. You cannot do so well when you simply "do your best" as when you set out to reach a certain level, high enough to tax your powers without being quite out of reach. You cannot jump so high in the empty air as you can to clear a bar; and, to secure your very best endeavor, the bar must not be so low {543} that you can clear it easily, nor so high that you cannot clear it at all.

The goal should be heartily adopted as your goal, which is to say that the self-assertive motive should be harnessed into service. The importance of this motive in securing action is seen in the strong effect of competition to arouse great activity. The runner cannot make as good speed when running "against time" as when competing directly, neck to neck, with other runners. Hence, to get full action from yourself, find worthy competitors. And for the same reason, accept responsibility. This puts you on your mettle. To shun competition and responsibility is characteristic of abulia. Other strong motives, such as the economic motive or the sex motive (seen in the energetic work of a young man whose goal is marriage to a certain young woman) can also be enlisted in many cases. But, for the best results, there should be, in addition to these extraneous motives, a genuine interest in the work itself.

Do not say, "I will try". Say, "I will do it". The time for trying, or effort, is when obstruction is actually encountered. You cannot really try then, unless you are already fully determined to reach the goal.

Getting action from other people is the business of parents, teachers, bosses, officers, and to some extent of every one who wishes to influence another. In war, the problem of "morale" is as important as the problem of equipment, and it was so recognized by all the armies engaged in the Great War. Each side sought to keep the morale of its own soldiers at a high level, and to depress the morale of the enemy. Good morale means more than willingness for duty; it means "pep", or positive zest for action. Some of the means used to promote morale were the following. The soldier must believe in the justness of his cause; that is, he must make victory his own goal, and be {544} whole-hearted in this resolve. He must believe in the coming success of his side. He must be brought to attach himself firmly to the social group of which he forms a part. He must be so absorbed in the activities of this group as to forget, in large measure, his own private concerns. Not only must he be enthusiastic for cause and country, but he must be strong for his division, regiment and company. Much depends on the officers that directly command him. He must have confidence in them, see that they know their business, and that they are looking out for the welfare of their men as well as expecting much from them. Competition between companies, regiments, and arms of the service was a strong force tending towards rapid progress in training and good service in the field. Interest in the actual technical work that was being done, and seeing that one's immediate group was accomplishing something towards the winning of the war was a powerful spur, while a sense of the uselessness of the work in hand strongly depressed the morale of a group. "Nothing succeeds like success"; morale was at its best when the army was advancing and seemingly nearing the goal. Morale was also wonderfully good when the enemy was advancing, provided your side was holding well with a good prospect of bringing the enemy to a halt and baffling his offensive. On the other hand, nothing was so hard on morale as the failure of an ambitious offensive of one's own side; the sense of futility and hopelessness then reached its maximum--except, of course, for the case of obviously approaching defeat. The conditions of trench warfare imposed a strain on morale: no progress, in spite of the danger and hardship, no chance to get at the enemy or do anything positive.

The manager of an industrial enterprise has the same problem of morale to meet. It is his business to get action from people who come into the enterprise as servants. The {545} main difficulty with the master-servant relation is that the servant has so little play for his own self-assertion. The master sets the goal, and the servant has submissively to accept it. This is not his enterprise, and therefore he is likely to show little "pep" in his work. He can be driven to a certain extent by fear and economic want; but better results, and the best social condition generally, can be expected from such management as enlists the individual's own will. He must be made to feel that the enterprise is his, after all. He must feel that he is fairly treated, and that he receives a