Chapter L: E. W., forty-nine years of age, farmer and lawyer by occupation, a (6)

This principle of inhibition by conflict allows us to understand the imperative persistence (if not the genesis) of certain sexual perversions in otherwise healthy-minded and normal people who have a loathing for such perversions in other people but can not overcome them in themselves. H. O., for example, has such a perversion, and yet the idea of this perversion in another person excites a lively emotion of disgust. In other words, at bottom, as we say, she is right-minded. How then account for the continuance of a self practice which she reprobates in another, censures in herself, and desires to be free of, and why does not the instinct of repulsion, and the sentiment of self respect, etc., act in herself as a safeguard? Introspective examination shows that when the sexual emotion is awakened, disgust and the sentiments of pride and self respect are suppressed, and the momentarily activating instinct determines all sorts of sophistical reasoning by which the perversion is justified to herself. As soon as the instinct accomplishes its aim it becomes exhausted, and at once intense disgust, meeting with no opposition, becomes awakened and in turn determines once more her right-minded ideas. Based upon this mechanism one therapeutic procedure would be to organize artificially so intense sentiments of disgust for the perversion and of self-respect that they would suppress the sexual impulse.[229]

Likewise the intense religious emotions (awe, reverence, self-abasement, divine love, etc.) may, if sufficiently strong, suppress the opposing instincts of anger, fear, play, and self-assertion, and emotions compounded of them. Examples might be cited from the lives of religious martyrs and fanatics.

If it is true that “the instincts are the prime movers of all human activity,” and that through their systematic organization with ideas into sentiments they are so harnessed and brought under subjection that they can be utilized for the well-being of the individual; and if through this harnessing the immediate promptings of the emotions are brought under volitional control, then _all conduct, in the last analysis, is determined by the conative force of instincts_[230] (and other innate dispositions) harnessed though they be to ideas. For though volition itself can control, reinforce, and determine the particular sentiment and thus govern conduct,—reinforce, for instance, a weaker abstract moral sentiment so that it shall dominate any lower brutish instinct or sentiment with which it conflicts, still, volition must be a more complex form of conation and itself issue from sentiments.

We need not enter into this troublesome problem of the nature of the will;[231] nor does it concern us. It is enough for our purpose to recognize that volition can reinforce a sentiment and thus take part in conflicts. In this way undesirable instincts and sentiments can he voluntarily overcome and inhibited or repressed and mental processes and conduct determined.

Nor are we concerned here with conduct which pertains more properly to social psychology. Our task is much more limited and simple, namely to inquire into the immediate conscious phenomena provoked by emotion, just as we have studied the physiological phenomena. We have seen that one such phenomenon is inhibition or repression of antagonistic instincts and sentiments provoked by conflict. (We shall see later that a conflict may arise between a conscious and an entirely subconscious sentiment with similar resulting phenomena.)

=Repression of individual instincts may be lasting.=—The repressions resulting from conflict which we have just been considering have been of a temporary nature lasting only just so long as the conflict has lasted. It is instructive to note that just as an instinct can be cultivated until it becomes a ruling trait in the character, so it can be permanently repressed, or so intensely repressed that it cannot be awakened excepting by unusual excitants or under unusual conditions. Such a persisting repression may be brought about either directly by volitional conflict or indirectly through the cultivation of antagonistic sentiments. The cultivation of an instinct is a common enough observation. Every one can point to some one of his acquaintance who has so fostered his instinct of anger or fear, has so cultivated the habit of one or the other reaction that he has become the slave of his emotion. Conversely, by the conative force of the will, and still more successfully by the cultivation of appropriate moral and religious and other sentiments, and complexes or “settings” systematized about those sentiments, a person can inhibit any instinct or any sentiment organized with that instinct. A bad-tempered person can thus, if he chooses, become good-tempered; a coward, a brave person; a person governed by the instinct of self-subjection can repress it by the cultivation of sentiments of self-assertion, and so on. The complete repression of unchristian instincts and sentiments is the acquired characteristic of the saintly character. The cultivation and repression of character traits and tendencies along these lines obviously belong to the domains of the psychology of character, social psychology, and criminology. But the persisting repression of at least one instinct—the sexual instinct—may take on pathological significance[232] while that of sentiments may lead to pathological dissociation and to the _formation of disturbing subconscious states_. To this latter type of repression we shall presently return.

That the sexual instinct may be involuntarily and persistently repressed by conflict is shown by the following case:

F. S. presented herself at the hospital clinic because of hysterical epileptiform attacks of six months’ duration. The attacks, which had been caused by an emotional trauma, were easily cured by suggestion. After recovery she fell into lamentations over the fact that she was sterile owing to both ovaries having been removed three years before because of pelvic disease. Just before the operation she had also suffered from an emotional trauma (fear). Although complete recovery from her symptoms had followed the operation, the sexual instinct had been abolished for three years. She was now much distressed over her inability to have children, complaining it had led to domestic infelicity, and apprehending divorce which had been threatened on the ground of her sterility. Having confidence in the strength of certain fundamental principles of human nature, and disbelieving the reasons alleged by the husband for divorce, I was able to restore domestic felicity, as well as demonstrate the psycho-physiological principle that the instinct was not lost but only inhibited. A single suggestion in hypnosis, psychologically constructed so as to bear a strong conative impulse that would overcome any other conflicting affective impulses and carry itself to fruition, restored not only the lost function[233] but conjugal happiness. That the instinct had only been inhibited is obvious. Whether the repressing factor had been fear or an involuntary auto-suggestion was not determined.

The following case is instructive not only because of the lasting dissociation of this instinct as a result of a conflict, but because the dissociation was volitionally and intentionally effected as a revenge. Other interesting features are the transference of the repressing revenge affect to an object (clothes which became an amulet or fetish to protect from sexual approaches, and the building of a complex (“raw oyster”) which became the bearer of the repressing force. X. Y. Z. received a deep wound to her pride on the first night of her honeymoon when her husband forgot his bride of a few hours who was awaiting him in the nuptial chamber. Happening to meet in the hotel some political acquaintances after the bride had retired, he became absorbed in a political discussion and—forgot! When he appeared after a prolonged absence and presented his excuses she was hurt in her pride and offended to think that she was of so little importance to him that he could become interested in talking politics.[234] There was anger too, and she vowed to herself to show, or, to use her own words, she “would be hanged if” she would show that she had any liking for or any interest in the marital intimacy. (She had never hitherto experienced any sexual feelings and, like most young girls, was entirely ignorant of the physical side. Nevertheless, from what she had been told, she had idealized the spiritual union of husband and wife and anticipated pleasurable experiences.) So purposely she repressed any interest, made herself absolutely indifferent to her spouse’s amorous attentions and experienced absolutely no sexual feeling; and so it continued for some days. In view of what later happened, and what we know of conflicts, we must believe that the impulses which carried her volition to fruition came from the emotions of anger, pride, and revenge.

Then one afternoon, just after she had finished dressing herself preparatory to going out, her husband came into her room and made advances to her. The idea appealed to her and she became emotionally excited at the thought. But in the middle of the act when the libido began to be aroused, suddenly she remembered that she had been snubbed at the first and that her rôle was to show no liking or interest. There were reawakened the emotions of pride, anger, and revenge, although not malicious revenge. Impelled by these emotions she actually gave herself suggestions to effect her purpose—a determination to get square with the past. She said to herself, “I must not like it; I must put it away back in my mind, I must become flabby as an oyster.” Thereupon she became “perfectly limp and uninterested and the feelings of flabbiness came over” her, and the beginning sexual feeling subsided at once. (That day she had eaten some raw oysters and had been impressed by them as the essence of flabbiness.) She admitted having continued during succeeding years to cherish this revengeful feeling as to the sexual relation—to get square with the past. She defended it, however, (although admitting the childishness of the original episode) on the ground that the slight to her pride must be viewed in connection with a long series of antecedent experiences. These must therefore be viewed as the setting which gave meaning to her idea of sexual relations with her husband. After this at the sexual approach under conventional marital conditions she for a time always volitionally induced this flabby “raw-oyster” sensation and feeling. Later it would automatically arise at the first indication or suggestion of the approach and counteract the libido. It was now no longer necessary to be on guard, knowing she could not be taken unawares. The consequence has been that the patient has never consciously experienced any sexual feeling beyond those first beginnings at the time of the experience when she was fully dressed. The patient can produce the “raw-oyster” state at will and exhibited it voluntarily during the examination. The state as then observed was one of lethargy or extreme relaxation. There was no general anæsthesia; pinching and pricking was felt perfectly, but, as she remarked, they carried no sensation of discomfort. “I do not care at the moment,” she explained, “what any one does to me; no sensation would cause pleasure or discomfort.” To arouse the state she thinks of the sexual approach first, and then the state comes. The sexual instinct has never been aroused by reading, or associative ideas of any kind. “It does not exist,” to quote her words.

Clothes became an amulet of protection in the following way: Ever since that afternoon when she was taken unawares in her clothes (and “almost liked it”) she realized and feared that sexual approaches when she was fully clothed might arouse the sexual instinct. Consequently she was more on her guard when fully clothed than at night for fear of being taken unawares. The idea that she must be on her guard when clothed became fixed, and, at first, when in this condition, she was always on her guard ready to defend herself by _pugnacity_. Then any approach at such times, if accompanied by physical contact, awakened an instinctive reaction which became a defense; it aroused the instincts of fear and anger. Any affectionate demonstration suggestive of the approach on the part of her husband would arouse these defensive instincts. On the other hand, when half dressed there has been no such ebullition of emotion; she has in consequence always believed that having clothes on would protect her against admirers. Indeed, as a fact, this is so, for any show of affection from any one manifested by a touch, even the friendly pat of the hand, will cause an unnecessary and unreasonable outburst of uncontrollable anger, such as to astonish and startle the offender. Clothes, becoming thus a sentiment in which the instincts of flight and pugnacity are incorporated, have also become a protection in themselves—an amulet to ward off danger.

What reason, it may be asked, is there for believing that the sexual instinct really exists in this case, and is only repressed or dissociated? I may not state all the reasons; it is sufficient to say that the evidence is to be found in dreams. The large number of sexual dreams which the subject has experienced, many of them accompanied by realistic sexual manifestations and not symbolic only, leave no doubt of this fact.[235]

_Conflicts with subconscious sentiments._ Thus far we have been considering conflicts between sentiments and emotional processes which have been in the full light of consciousness. But in previous lectures we have seen that ideas with strong emotional tones may be dissociated and function below the threshold of consciousness as coconscious processes. It is theoretically possible, therefore, that conflicts might arise between a dissociated coconscious sentiment and one that is antagonistic to it in consciousness. To appreciate this theoretical condition let me point out that there is one important _difference between the ultimate consequences of the repression of an instinct and of a sentiment_. If an instinct is repressed (it being only an innate disposition) it ceases to be an active factor in the functioning organism. It is inhibited. A stimulus that ordinarily suffices to excite it fails to do so, and it may respond only to an extraordinarily powerful stimulus, or perhaps none will awaken it. Thus abstinence from food fails to awaken a sense of hunger in a person who has lost this instinct for any reason, even though appetizing food be placed before him.[236] Similarly anger, or fear, or tender emotion, or self-assertion, or disgust, in certain persons cannot be awakened excepting by very unusual stimuli. In other words, the psycho-physiological reflex is completely or relatively in abeyance just as much so as is an organic reflex (e. g., the knee-jerk) which has been inhibited. Normally, of course, it is rare for an instinct to be absolutely inhibited excepting temporarily, as has been explained, during a conflict with another instinct. In certain pathological conditions (e. g., dissociated personality), almost any instinct may be persistently inhibited. In normal conditions there is, however, one exception, namely the sexual instinct, which, as we have seen from instances cited, may be inhibited during long periods of time. In women this inhibition is common and is effected, as I believe, by the subtle and insensible influence of the environment of the child and by social education, in other words, by the social taboo. Wherever inhibition occurs observation would seem to show that the psycho-physiological function has ceased to take part in the functioning organism.

With sentiments, however, the case stands differently. A sentiment, being an idea about which a system of emotional dispositions has been organized, when repressed by conflict, or when simply out of mind, whether capable of reproduction as memory or not, may, like all ideas, still be conserved, as we have seen, as an unconscious neurogram. As we have also seen, so long as it is conserved it is still a part of the personality. Even though repressed it is not necessarily absolutely inhibited but may be simply dissociated and then be _able to take on dissociated subconscious activity_. As a subconscious process the idea continues still organized with its emotional dispositions, and the conative forces of these, under certain conditions, may continue striving to give expression to the idea. We have already become familiar with one phenomenon of this striving, namely, the emerging into consciousness of the emotional element of the sentiment while the idea remains subconscious, thus producing an unaccountable fear or joy, feelings of pleasure or pain, etc. (p. 381).

1. This being so, it having been determined that _under certain conditions_ any conserved experience may become activated as a dissociated subconscious process, it is _theoretically_ quite possible that the impulses of an activated subconscious sentiment might come into conflict with the impulses of a conscious process—the two being antagonistic. The resulting phenomena might be the same as when both factors to the contest are in consciousness. In such a conflict if the impulsive force of the subconscious sentiment is the stronger the conscious ideas, sentiments, and feelings—in short, the conscious process—would be repressed, and _vice versa_. Or if the subconscious sentiment got the worst of the conflict and could not repress the conscious process, the former, being dissociated and an independent “automatic” process, might theoretically induce various other phenomena in the effort to fulfil its aim. If it could not directly overcome the impulses of the conscious process it might circumvent the latter by inducing mental and physiological disturbances which would indirectly prevent the conscious impulses from fulfilling their aim; e. g., inhibition of the will, dissociation or total inhibition of consciousness, amnesia for particular memories, motor phenomena interfering with normal activity, etc. The subconscious sentiment engaging in such a conflict could be excited to activity by any associative antagonistic idea in consciousness. It should be noted that the subject being entirely unaware of the subconscious process would not know the cause of the resulting phenomena.

2. Now, in fact, _such hypothetical conflicts and phenomena are actually observed_ in very neat and precise form _under experimental conditions_, particularly in pathological or quasi-pathological subjects. These conditions are particularly instructive as they allow us to clearly recognize the subconscious character of the conflicting process and detect the exact sentiment concerned therein.

The following experiment illustrative of such a conflict between a conscious and subconscious process I have repeated many times in one subject with the same resulting phenomenon. It has been demonstrated on several occasions to psychologists and others. On the first occasion when the phenomenon was observed it was entirely spontaneous and unexpected as also has since been frequently the case.

B. C. A. in one phase of alternating personality (B) was asked to mention a certain complex of ideas which was known to have been organized about a distressing “sentiment” in another phase (C) causing considerable unhappiness. This sentiment included a strong emotion of pride in consequence of which she had in the C phase intense objections to revealing these ideas. As she herself said, she “would have gone to the stake first.” Phase B has no such sentiment, but on the contrary the ideas in question were only amusing to her.[237] In phase B, therefore, she not only had no objection to revealing the sentiment distressing to C but desired for therapeutic reasons to do so. In accordance with this difference of sentiments the difference in the attitude of mind in the two phases toward the same experience was quite striking. The impulse in the one was to conceal the experiences and sentiment, in the other to divulge them.

Now, in reply to an interrogatory as to what was distressing in the C phase, B begins to mention the sentiment. At once, and to her astonishment, her lips and tongue are tied by painful spasms involving, also, the throat muscles. She becomes dumb, unable to overcome the resistance. She struggles in vain to speak. When she gives up the struggle to pronounce the forbidden words she speaks with ease on other subjects saying “something prevented me from speaking.” Each time that she endeavors to turn State’s evidence and to peach on herself, the same struggle is repeated. When she persists in her effort, using all her will-power, the effect of the conflicting force extends to consciousness. Her thoughts become first confused, then obliterated, and she falls back in her seat limp, paralyzed, and apparently unconscious. The thoughts to which she strove to give expression have disappeared. She now cannot even will to speak.

But she is not really unconscious, it is only another phase; there is only a dissociation or inhibition of the consciousness comprising the system of ideas making up the B phase and an awakening of another restricted system. When automatic writing is tried, it is found that a limited field of consciousness is present in which are to be found the ideas which opposed the resistance. A precise statement of the opposing factors (volition) which offered the resistance and brought about the conflict, the spasm of the vocal apparatus, and finally inhibition or dissociation of consciousness, is obtained from this dissociated restricted field.[238]

This phenomenon carries its own interpretation on its face and cannot be doubted. Certain sentiments, for the moment dormant and outside the focus of awareness of the subject, are “struck” or stimulated by memories within that focus. The conative force of the conscious wishes to which the subject seeks to give expression meets with the resistance of a similar and more powerful force from the previously dormant sentiment. The latter carries itself to fulfilment and _controls the vocal apparatus at first, and then, finding itself likely to be overcome by the will-power of the personality, annihilates the latter by the inhibition and dissociation of consciousness_.

Various forms of the same phenomenon of conflict with subconscious processes I have experimentally demonstrated in Miss B. and O. N. Spontaneous manifestations of the same have also been frequently observed in all three subjects. In the published account of Miss B.[239] numerous examples are given. I will merely refer to the attacks of aboulia, the dissociations of consciousness and inhibition of thought, and of speech resulting in stuttering and dumbness, the inhibition of motor activity, the induction of systematized anesthesia and alexia, etc. In the prolonged study of the case I was the witness, I was going to say, of innumerable exhibitions of such manifestations, and the book is replete with examples of conflicts between opposing mental processes. B. C. A. in her account, “My Life as a Dissociated Personality,”[240] has described similar spontaneous phenomena. It is worth noting in this connection that the commonplace phenomena of systematized anesthesia (negative hallucinations) may be induced by conflict with a subconscious process motivated by strong emotion. Thus Miss B. in one of her phases could not see the writing on a sheet of paper which appeared blank to her; on another occasion she could not see the printing of the pages of a French novel which she therefore took to be a blank book, nor could she see a bookcase containing French books.[241] The subconscious conflicting ideas were motivated by anger in the one case and jealousy in the other. That the conflicting ideas in this case were elements synthesized in a large dissociated system or subconscious self in no way affects the principle, which is that of conflict between processes. The conflicting process in such conditions is a more complex one, that is all. Undoubtedly the systematized anesthesia, so easily induced by hypnotic suggestion and which has been made the subject of much study, may be explained on the same principle, although the affective elements are not so obtrusive. The conflict is between the personal volition of the subject to see the marked playing-card, if that is the test object used in the experiment, and the suggested idea not to see it. The latter wins if the experiment is successful and inhibits the perception of the card—i. e., dissociates it from the focus of awareness. (The emotional tones involved are obscure; possibly they are curiosity on the one hand vs. self-subjection on the other.)

The _unconscious resistance to suggestion_ is probably of the same nature. Every one knows that it is difficult to hypnotize a person who resists the suggestion. This resistance may come from a counter auto-suggestion which may be entirely involuntary, perhaps a conviction on the part of the subject that she cannot be hypnotized, or an unwillingness to be—i.e., desire not to be hypnotized or fear. The same is true of waking a person from hypnosis. In other words, an antagonistic preparedness of the mind blocks involuntarily the suggestion. A very pretty illustration is the following: H. O. discovered that she could easily and rapidly hypnotize herself by simply passing her own fingers over her eyelids, but she could not wake herself out of hypnosis. She then discovered that, if she first gave herself the suggestion that she would wake when she desired, she could quickly do so. Likewise, if she suggested to herself that she could not hypnotize herself the customary procedure was without effect. Though this observation is a common phenomenon the rapidity and ease with which the phenomenon was demonstrated were as striking as it was amusing to watch her struggle to awake when the preparatory anticipatory autosuggestion had not been given.

In O. N. _more complicated phenomena_ induced by conflicts with subconscious complexes have been equally precise and striking. In this subject I find, as the result of repeated observations, that, in order that a suggestion, that is antagonistic to a preexisting attitude of mind possessing a strong feeling tone, shall not be resisted in hypnosis, it must be first formally accepted by the personality _before_ hypnosis is induced. If this viewpoint is not preformed, after hypnosis is induced the blocking attitude cannot be altered. Practically this means that the subject shall _bring into consciousness and disclose ideas_ with which the intended suggestion will conflict and shall modify them voluntarily. This she does by first candidly accepting a new point of view, and then, secondly, by a technical procedure of her own, namely, by preparing her mind not to resist in hypnosis. This procedure, briefly stated and simplified, is as follows: she first says to herself, “I will ‘take out’ that [resisting] idea.” Then she arranges in her thoughts the ideas of acceptance which she will substitute. Then she puts herself into a state of abstraction (hypnosis) and _suggests to herself_ that the resisting idea _is_ taken out and that my intended suggestion shall be her viewpoint. Even then, sometimes, when the resisting idea is one harking back to a long past period of life and belonging to a pathologically organized “mood,” known as the “b mood” or state, the acceptance of the suggestion may be ineffectual. Under these circumstances and _when the hypnotic dissociation is carried too far_, so that the hypnotic state is reduced to the “b mood,” the previously auto-suggested acceptance of the idea by the patient is thereby ostracized from the hypnotic field and is unable to play its part and have effect. So much by way of explanation. Now when the precaution has not been taken to see that any resisting idea has been “taken out” and when the intended suggestion has not been accepted, one of the following phenomena is observed: (1) the hypnotic personality when the suggestion is given becomes “automatically” and unconsciously restless, endeavors, _without knowing why_, to avoid listening, and to push me away, shifting her attitude and struggling to withdraw herself from contact or proximity—all the time the face expressing hostility and disapproval in its features; or (2) complete obnubilation of consciousness supervenes so that the suggestions are not heard; or (3) the subject suddenly wakes up. The last frequently happens as often as the suggestion is repeated; and yet in hypnosis (and also, of course, when awake), the subject is unaware of what causes the resistance and the resulting phenomena. But if now the subject is warned of what has occurred and accepts the suggestion by the procedure mentioned (unless the “b mood” I have mentioned recurs), the resistance and other phenomena at once cease and the suggestion takes effect. Thus in this case the conflicting ideas can always be precisely determined and the conditions of the experiment arranged at will and the results controlled. It is obvious that all three phenomena are different modes by which the subconscious idea resists the suggested idea and accomplishes its aim.

3. _In entire accordance with the experimental results are certain pathological disturbances_ which from time to time interrupt the course of everyday life of this subject, O. N. These disturbances consist of one or more of the following: a dissociative state in which the pathological “b mood” is dominant; a lethargic state; twilight state; complete repression of certain normal sentiments and instincts; complete alteration of previously established points of view; morbid self-reproach; nervousness, restlessness, agitation; anger at opposition; indecision of thought, etc. Now, whenever such phenomena recur, with practical certainty, they can always be traced by the use of technical methods to a conflict with a turbulent sentiment (in which strong emotional tones are incorporated) previously lying dormant in the unconscious. Sometimes the turbulent sentiment can be definitely traced to childhood’s experiences. Very often it has been intentionally formed and put into her mind by the subject herself for the very purpose of inducing the repression of other sentiments, to which for one reason or another for the time being she objects, and of changing her habitual point of view. Her method of artificially accomplishing this result is exceedingly instructive. It is similar to the auto-suggestive process I have described in connection with the hypnotic experiments. Having first prearranged her psychological plan, she proceeds to put herself into abstraction and to “take out”, as she calls it, her previous sentiment (or instinct) and substitute an antagonistic sentiment. When she comes to herself out of abstraction, the previously objected to sentiment has completely vanished. If it is one concerning a person or mode of life, she becomes completely indifferent to that person or mode of life as if previously no sentiment had existed. If an intimate friend, he becomes only an acquaintance toward whom she has entirely new feelings corresponding to the new sentiment; if a physician, nothing that he says has influence with her, her new feeling, we will say, being that of resentment; if a mode of life, she has lost all interest in that mode and is governed by an interest in a new mode. Even physiological bodily instincts have been in this way suppressed. She has indulged this psychological habit for years. Again and again when she has exhibited these, and still other, phenomena, I have been able to discover their origin in this auto-suggestive procedure.

Some of the other phenomena I have just mentioned are more likely to be traced to _autochthonous conflicts between everyday ideas_—dissatisfactions with actual conditions of life, and wishes for other conditions, unwillingness to forego the fulfilment of certain wishes and accept the necessary conditions as they exist, etc. The natural consequence is restlessness, agitation, anger, indecision, etc. The dissociation of personality, with the outcropping of the “b mood,” follows—a conflict due to the excitation of certain childhood complexes, conserved in the unconscious and embracing sentiments in which are incorporated the instinct of self-subjection or abasement. This “b mood” is a study in itself. The self-reproaches are, I believe, also traceable to this instinct.

_Conflicts may even occur between two processes, both of which are subconscious_ and therefore outside of the awareness of the subject. Thus, in B. C. A. I have frequently observed the following: while the right hand has been engaged in automatic writing, the left hand, motivated by a subconscious sentiment antagonistic to the subconscious ideas performing the writing, has seized the pencil, broken it, or thrown it across the room. The two conflicting systems of thought, each with its own sentiments and wishes, have been made to disclose themselves and exhibit their antitheses and antipathies.

The principle of emotional conflict and the phenomena we have outlined enable us to understand the mechanism of prolonged reaction time and blocking of thought observed in the so-called “word association tests.” These tests involve too large a subject for us to enter upon them here. Let it suffice to say that when a test word strikes an emotional complex the response of the subject by an associated word may be delayed or completely blocked. The emotional impulse which inhibits the response may come from an awakened conscious or subconscious memory.

=The psychogalvanic reaction as physical evidence of actual subconscious emotional discharge.=—This reaction may be also used to demonstrate that subconscious processes may actually give forth emotional impulses without the ideas of those processes entering the personal consciousness.

1. I may be permitted to cite here some experiments,[242] which I made with Dr. Frederick Peterson, as they leave the minimum of latitude for interpretation and come as close as possible to the demonstration of emotional discharges from processes entirely outside of awareness. Such a demonstration is important for the theory of subconscious conflicts.

The experiments were undertaken in a case of multiple personality (B. C. A.) with a view to obtaining the galvanic phenomenon from coconscious states. This case offered an exceptional opportunity to determine whether the galvanic reaction could be obtained in one personality from the dissociated complexes _deposited by the experiences of the second alternating personality for which there was complete amnesia on the part of the first_. These dissociated experiences, of course, had never entered the awareness of the personality tested, who, therefore, necessarily could not possibly recall them to memory. With the information furnished by the second personality, it was easy to arrange test words associated with the emotional ideas of the experiences belonging to this personality and unknown to the one tested.

Similarly it was possible to test whether galvanic reaction could be obtained from complexes—from subconscious complexes—the residua of forgotten dreams, as in this case the dreams were not remembered on waking. An account of the dreams could be obtained in hypnosis. The dreams were therefore simply dissociated.

Again we could test the possibility of obtaining reactions from subconscious perceptions and thoughts which had never arisen into awareness. The required information concerning these perceptions and thoughts could be obtained in this case in hypnosis.

Now we found that test words which expressed the emotional ideas belonging to a forgotten dream gave, in spite of the amnesia, very marked rises in the galvanic curve. The same was true of the test words referring to dissociated experiences belonging to the _alternating_ personality for which the tested personality had amnesia, and of the subconscious perceptions. For instance (as an example of the latter), the word _lorgnette_, referring to a subconscious perception of a stranger unnoticed by the conscious personality, gave a very lively reaction.

Further, pin pricks, which could not be consciously perceived owing to the _anesthesia_ of the skin, gave strong reactions.

Now here in the first two sets of observations were emotional effects apparently obtained from what were very precise complexes which were definitely underlying, in that they never had been experienced by the personality tested and therefore could not come from memories, or from associations of which this personality was aware. They could only come from the residua of a personality which had experienced them and which was now “underlying.” That these experiences had been conserved is shown by the recovery of them in a hypnotic state, and by their being remembered by the secondary personality. Even the pin pricks, which were not felt on account of the anesthesia, gave reactions. It could be logically inferred, therefore, that the galvanic reaction was due to the activity of subconscious complexes, using the term in the narrow and restricted sense of conserved residua without conscious equivalents. But the conditions were more complicated than I have described. There was in this case a veritable coconscious personality, a split-off, well-organized system of conscious states synthesized into a personal consciousness—two foci of self-consciousness. Now the coconscious personality with its large system of thoughts had full memory of all these amnesic experiences; it remembered the dreams and the experiences of the second personality, and perceived the pin pricks. Hence we concluded that the galvanic phenomena were obtained from the memory and perceptions of this coconscious personality.

This demonstration of an actual physical discharge is proof positive that an emotional process can function subconsciously. This being so, _it only needs this discharge to come into conflict with some other process, conscious or subconscious, for one or other phenomenon of conflict to be manifested_.

2. This psycho-galvanic phenomenon may be correlated with those phenomena which we have already studied (p. 381) wherein the emotional element of the process alone rises into consciousness. The former phenomenon is therefore the manifestation of the efferent and the latter of the central part of the activated emotional disposition. The former supports the interpretation of various clinical motor phenomena as being the efferent manifestations of purely subconscious emotional processes. I refer to hysterical tics, spasms, contractures, etc. The latter phenomenon we have had frequent occasion to refer to. You will remember, for instance, that in the case of Miss B. on numerous occasions it was observed that emotion, particularly of fear, swept over the conscious personality without apparent cause. This emotion could be traced to specific dissociated and coconscious ideas. Likewise in B. C. A., states of anxiety or depression could be related to specific coconscious ideas which, having been shunted out of the field of consciousness, continued their activity in a coconscious state. Janet, as might be expected of so accurate an observer, long ago described the same phenomenon—the invasion of the personal consciousness by the emotion belonging to a coconscious idea. “Isabella,” he writes, “presents constantly conditions which have the same character; we shall cite but one other in the interest of the study of dementia. For a week or so she has been gloomy and sad; she hides and will not speak to anyone. We have trouble in getting a few words from her, and these she says very low, casting her eyes down: ‘I am not worthy to speak with other people.... I am very much ashamed, I have a crushing load on my mind like a terrible gnawing remorse....’—‘A remorse about what?’—‘Ah! that’s just it. I am trying to find it out day and night. What is it that I could have done last week? for before I was not thus. Tell me candidly, did I do something very bad last week?’ This time, as will be seen, the question is no longer about an act, but about a feeling, a general emotional state which she interprets as remorse; she is equally incapable of understanding and expressing the fixed idea which determines this feeling. If you divert the subject’s attention, you can obtain the automatic writing, and you will see that the hand of the patient constantly writes the same name, that of Isabella’s sister who died a short time ago. During the attacks and the somnambulic sleep we establish a very complicated dream in which this poor young girl thinks she murdered her sister. That is quite a common delirium, you will say; perhaps so, but for a hysteric it presents itself in a rather curious manner. She suffers only from its rebound, experiences only the emotional side of it; of the delirium itself she is wholly ignorant; the latter remains subconscious.”...

“It will be seen by this last example that, in some cases, a small portion of the fixed idea may be conscious. Isabella feels that she is troubled by some remorse, she knows not what. It thus frequently happens that hystericals, during their normal waking time, complain of a certain mental attitude, so much so that they partly look as if obsessed. Celestine experiences thus feelings of anger which she cannot explain.”[243]

As might be expected intense conflicts may have wide-reaching consequences and lead to the development of pathological conditions. Indeed, in the latter we find the most clear-cut exemplars of repression (dissociation) and other phenomena produced by conflict. I shall point out in later lectures[244] how in a specific case intense religious sentiments completely repressed their antagonistic instincts and eventuated in dissociation of (multiple) personality (Miss B.) Likewise with B. C. A., as I interpret the phenomena, the dissociation of personality resulted from a conflict between wishes that could not be fulfilled and sentiments of duty, respect, etc. We shall see later the significance of this principle for the understanding of other pathological states.

-----

Footnote 220:

... “Every instinctive process has the three aspects of all mental
processes, the cognitive, the affective, and the conative. Now, the
innate psychophysical disposition, which is an instinct, may be
regarded as consisting of three corresponding parts, an afferent, a
central, and a motor or efferent part, whose activities are the
cognitive, the affective, and the conative features respectively of
the total instinctive process. The afferent or receptive part of the
total disposition is some organized group of nervous elements or
neurones that is specially adapted to receive and to elaborate the
impulses initiated in the sense-organ by the native object of the
instinct; its constitution and activities determine the sensory
content of the psychophysical process. From the afferent part the
excitement spreads over to the central part of the disposition; the
constitution of this part determines in the main the distribution of
the nervous impulses, especially the impulses that descend to modify
the working of the visceral organs, the heart, lungs, blood vessels,
glands, etc., in the manner required for the most effective excitation
of the instinctive action; the nervous activities of this central part
are the correlates of the affective or emotional aspect or feature of
the total physical process. The excitement of the efferent or motor
part reaches it by the way of the central part; its construction
determines the distribution of impulses to the muscles of the skeletal
system by which the instinctive action is effected, and its nervous
activities are the correlates of the conative element of the physical
process, of the felt impulse to action.” William McDougall. An
introduction to Social Psychology, p. 32.

Footnote 221:

Social Psychology, p. 44.

Footnote 222:

Ibid, p. 159.

Footnote 223:

Not included in this volume.

Footnote 224:

Personally communicated.

Footnote 225:

This theory of the part played by the sensory accompaniments of
visceral activity I would suggest as a substitute for the James-Lange
theory.

Footnote 226:

Hilton: Rest and Pain.

Footnote 227:

Note analogues in Sherrington’s mechanism of the spinal reflexes.

Footnote 228:

I follow in the main McDougall’s classification as sufficiently
adequate and accurate for our purposes.

Footnote 229:

In fact, this was successfully done.

Footnote 230:

For purposes of simplification I leave aside feelings of pleasure and
pain, excitement and depression, for though their main functions may
be only to guide or shape the actions prompted by the instincts, as
McDougall affirms, still I think there is sound reason to believe that
feelings also have conative force and are coöperative impulsive
factors.

Footnote 231:

McDougall has proposed the ingenious theory that that which we
understand, properly speaking, by “will” is a complex form of conation
issuing from a particular sentiment, viz., the complexly organized
sentiment of self (“self-regarding sentiment”). The behavior
immediately determined by the primitive instincts and other sentiments
cannot be classed as volition, but should be regarded as simple
instinctive conation. When, therefore, the will reinforces a sentiment
and determines conduct it is the self-regarding sentiment which
provides the “volitional” impulse and is the controlling factor. If
this theory should stand it would give a satisfactory solution of this
difficult question. Perhaps it receives some support on the part of
abnormal psychology in that certain observations seem to show, if I
correctly interpret them, that self-consciousness is a complex capable
of being dissociated like any idea or sentiment. I shall presently
describe a quasi-pathological state which may be called
depersonalization. In this state the “conscious intelligence” present
is able to think and reason logically and sanely, is capable of good
judgments, and has an unusually large field of memory, in short, is a
very intelligent consciousness; nevertheless, it exhibits a very
strange phenomenon: it has lost all consciousness of self; it has no
sense of personality, of anything to which the term “I” can be
applied. This sentiment seems to be absolutely dissociated in this
state.

Footnote 232:

The repression of the sexual instinct and of sexual wishes plays the
dominant rôle in the Freudian psychology. If a wish may be correctly
defined psychologically as the impulsive force of a sentiment striving
toward an end plus the pleasurable feeling resulting from the imagined
attainment of that end, i.e., the imagined gratification of the
impulse, then the repression of a wish belongs to the phenomena of
repressed sentiments rather than of primitive instincts. This
distinction, I think, is of some importance, as will appear when we
consider subconscious sentiments.

Footnote 233:

In making use of suggestion for therapeutic purposes it is essential
to construct one with strong emotional tones and pleasurable and
exalting feelings for the purposes of increasing resistances to
contrary impulses, and carrying the suggestion to fruition. This I
believe to be one of the secrets of successful suggestive procedure.
The construction of an effective suggestion is an art in itself and
must be based on the psychological conditions existing in each case.

Footnote 234:

Of course this attitude is not to be viewed as an isolated event
standing all alone by itself. It must be read like nearly all events
of life in relation to a series of antecedent events. These, to her,
had denoted indifference, and now on this crucial occasion formed the
real setting and gave the offensive meaning to her spouse’s
forgetfulness.

Footnote 235:

Notwithstanding the frequency with which asexuality is met with in
women, I am strongly inclined to the opinion that the sexual instinct
in the sex is never really absent, excepting, of course, in late life
and in organic disease. No woman is born without it. When apparently
absent it is only inhibited or dissociated by the subtle influences of
the environment, education, conflicting sentiments, etc.

Footnote 236:

A distinction should be made between hunger and appetite. Food may
excite appetite, although hunger has been appeased.

Footnote 237:

Note that the same idea forms different sentiments in different phases
or moods, according to the emotions with which it is linked. In this
case, in phase C, it is linked with mortification, self-abasement,
possibly anger, pride, and feelings of pain and depression; in phase
B, with joyful emotions and feelings of pleasure and excitement. Also
note that the former sentiment, although out of mind at the time of
the observation, is conserved in the unconscious.

Footnote 238:

At first the subject (B) had no anticipation or supposition that such
a conflict would occur. Later she learned after repeated experiences
to anticipate the probable consequences of trying to tell
tales-out-of-school.

Footnote 239:

The Dissociation, see Index: “Subconscious ideas.”

Footnote 240:

_Journal of Abnormal Psychology_, October-November, 1908.

Footnote 241:

The Dissociation, p. 538.

Footnote 242:

_Journal Abn. Psychol._, June-July, 1908.

Footnote 243:

The Mental State of Hystericals, pp. 289-290.

Footnote 244:

Not included in this volume.

LECTURE XVI
GENERAL PHENOMENA RESULTING FROM EMOTIONAL CONFLICTS

The awakening of intense emotional impulses we have seen tends to intensify certain activities and to inhibit other conflicting ones. Further when that which is inhibited is a sentiment possessing an intense emotion the sentiment tends to become dissociated[245] from the personal consciousness and free to become by the force of its own emotional dispositions a subconscious process. As a consequence of these tendencies there may result a number of psycho-physiological conditions of personality with some of which we should become familiar. They are observable, as would be expected, in every-day life, and when highly accentuated become pathological phenomena. Let us now consider some of them in detail.

=Contraction of the field of consciousness and of personality.=—In every-day life intense emotion excludes from the field of awareness thoughts that are unrelated, antagonistic to and incompatible with the ideas exciting the emotion, and perceptions of the environment that ordinarily would enter awareness. The field of consciousness is thereby contracted and limited to thoughts excited by or associated with the emotion. Thus, for example, in the heat of anger the mind is dominated by the particular object or thought which gave rise to the anger, or by anger exciting associated ideas. Conflicting memories and correlated knowledge that would modify the point of view and judgment and mollify (inhibit) the anger are suppressed and cannot enter the focus of attention. Further, a person in such a state may not perceive many ocular, auditory, tactile, and other impressions coming from the environment; he may not see the people about him, hear what is said, or feel what is done to him, or only in an imperfect way. All these sensations are either actually inhibited or prevented from entering awareness (dissociated) by the conflicting conative force of the emotion. In other words there is a dissociation (or inhibition) of consciousness and consequent contraction of its field to certain emotional ideas.

To take a concrete example, you are playing a game of cards and with zest throw yourself into the game. Something happens to arouse your anger. At once there is a conflict: The impulsive force of your pugnacity instinct meets with the impulsive force of your play instinct and its pleasure feelings. If the former is the stronger, the latter with the ideas to which it is linked are inhibited, repressed, driven out of consciousness. The pleasure of play ceases and its impulses no longer determine your thoughts. Further, you forget the cards that have been played though you knew them well a moment before, you may forget your manners, become oblivious to social etiquette and the environment. You can no longer reason on the play of the cards; you forget your card knowledge. All these processes are inhibited, and consequently the field of consciousness and personality becomes contracted.

On the other hand, the emotion of anger dominating the mind, ideas associated with or which tend to carry your pugnacity instinct to fruition, arise and direct and determine your conduct. Habit reactions are likely to come automatically into play, and you break out into angry denunciatory speech, if that is your habit. I leave you to fill out the details of the picture for yourselves.

And yet, again through training in self-control, a self-regarding sentiment conflicting with the anger impulse may be awakened, and the latter in turn be dominated, repressed, inhibited.

In the case of an intense fear it is common observation that this contraction may reach a high degree. In the excitement of a railroad accident the frightened passenger does not feel the bruising and pain which he otherwise would suffer, nor hear the shrieks of his fellow passengers nor perceive but a small part of what is occurring about him, but driven only by the intensely motivating idea of escape from danger he struggles for safety. His field of consciousness is limited to the few ideas of danger, escape, and the means of safety. All else is dissociated by the conative force of the emotion and cannot enter the focus of attention. He could not philosophize on the accident if he would. In ordinary concentration of attention or absent-mindedness the same phenomenon of contraction of the field of consciousness occurs occasioned by interest; but with cessation of interest the field of awareness quickly widens. So in contraction of this field from emotion the normal is restored so soon as the emotion ceases.

When this same general contraction of the field of consciousness, effected by the repressing force of emotion, reaches a certain acme we have a pathological condition—the _hysterical state_. The field of consciousness is now occupied by the single dissociating idea or complex of ideas with its emotion that did the repressing—a condition of mono-ideism. All other conscious processes are inhibited or dissociated. When the complex is an intensely emotional one, its nervous energy, now unbridled, is free to discharge itself in many directions, perhaps producing convulsive phenomena of one kind or another.

To attribute these effects of emotion to repression _from conflict_ is only to express the facts in different terms. But it would be often an over-emphasis to describe what takes place as a specific conflict between particular sentiments. It is often rather the discharge of a blind impulsive force in every direction which, like a blast of dynamite, suppresses or dissociates every other process which might come into consciousness and displace it.