FOOTNOTES:
[18] This explains why "every one" cannot move the board; there must be this peculiar nervous and psychic instability in order to insure the results.
[19] I am indebted to Dr. M'Dougall's excellent work, Body and Mind, for the data from which I have condensed the following summary.
MODERN DISSECTION OF THE HUMAN MIND
Dissection of the mind! Can that too be dissected? We hear much nowadays of dissection of the human body; of organs which have been transplanted and which perform their functions in the body of another animal; of marvellous operations, in which tissues and viscera have been removed, repaired, and replaced—seeming none the worse for their remarkable experience; of operations which have been performed even upon the brain, in which whole segments have been cut away, and other delicate experiments undertaken—all of these marvels we have grown more or less accustomed to, by reason of the ease and certainty with which they are performed. But the human mind; that is a different matter. Here is something which, intangible in itself, seems incapable of dissection or of objective experimentation, in the ordinary sense of the word. Yet that is what present-day normal and abnormal psychology has been enabled to do! Shakespeare's adage: "Who can minister to a mind diseased?" can now be answered by saying: "To a certain extent, the specialist in normal and abnormal psychology."
If you shut your eyes, and turn your attention inward, in an attempt to find your real "self," you will probably find a good deal of difficulty in catching it. It will be found as illusory as the proverbial figure of Happiness, which ever flits on before us. The real centre of being, the self, the ego, the person, the individuality, evades us at every turn. Each of us has the feeling, under all ordinary and normal circumstances, that, as James expressed it, "I am the same self that I was yesterday." And one would be most astonished, I fancy, were he to wake up one fine morning and find himself some one else! Like the Arab in the tale, he would be bewildered indeed!
From the solitary desert
Up to Bagdad, came a simple
Arab; there amid the rout
Grew bewildered of the countless
People, hither, thither, running,
Coming, going, meeting, parting,
Clamour, clatter, and confusion,
All around him and about.
Travel-wearied, hubbub-dizzy,
Would the simple Arab fain
Get to sleep,—"But then on waking,
How," quoth he, "amid so many
Waking, know myself again?"
So, to make the matter certain,
Strung a gourd about his ankle,
And, into a corner creeping,
Bagdad and himself and people
Soon were blotted from his brain.
But one that heard him and divined
His purpose, slyly crept behind;
From the sleeper's ankle clipping,
Round his own the pumpkin tied,
And laid him down to sleep beside.
By and by the Arab waking
Looks directly for his signal—
Sees it on another's ankle—
Cries aloud, "Oh, good-for-nothing
Rascal to perplex me so,
That by you I am bewildered,
Whether I be I or no!
If I—the pumpkin why on you!
If You—then where am I, and who?"
One can quite appreciate the tangled state of our Arab's mind on awakening under such peculiar circumstances, and, from the point of view of common sense and common experience, such an awakening would be an utter impossibility—fit only for fairy tales and the traditions of savage tribes. Yet, in our own day, here in civilized New York and London, similar cases have been recorded and studied by experts! Under peculiar circumstances, patients have gone to sleep one person and awakened another; and they have remained another, not only during the first temporary moments of bewilderment, but sometimes for days, weeks, and months at a time; and in some cases even whole years have elapsed before the first "self" returned to tenant the body, to look out of the eyes it had looked out of years before; to take up the self-conscious life it had lain down in sleep. And to this there may be the added horror that, during the intervening period of oblivion (for this Self) the same external body, actuated by another "Self," may have performed actions and lived a course of life utterly at variance with the tastes and desires of the primary "Self." The other Self may even have married the common body in the interval—to a man whom the original self had never known—does not know now! There may even have been children; friends, environment, all, all may have been changed in the interim. Like Rip van Winkle, the setting of life may be found to have altered; but in some of these cases, the awakening must be the greater nightmare. The unfamiliarity, even horror, of the situation can be imagined. Yet many such cases exist; and the two Selves alternately usurp and manipulate a common body; the Real Self and the Stranger. Who and what is this Stranger? Apparently it is an alien spirit—another soul, perchance, entangled miserably in the body of some equally unhappy mortal! Yet modern psychology contends that such cases represent, for the most part, mere splits or dislocations or dissociations of the normal personality; and that the two or more Selves we see before us, at such times, are none of them a real self; but mere fragments of the primary self, dissociated from it, owing to some shock or accident or disease. Let us see if we can penetrate a little deeper into this mystery of being; and lay bare the secrets of this alien Self, as well as the original Self which owned the body from birth.
The older psychology held that the mind was a unit; that it was a separate thing or entity, a sort of sphere, which, if it could ever be caught, would reveal all the secrets of True Being. Accordingly, they tried to catch this sphere-of-being, by inward reflection or "introspection." But it was never caught! There are many reasons why this should be so, the chief reason being that a subject cannot be an object also; it is as impossible for a thought to catch itself as it would be to turn a hollow rubber ball inside out without tearing the cover.[20] But the newer psychology studies the mind objectively, from the outside, by means of recording instruments, and does not depend upon introspection for its results. Further, the very conception of the nature of the "self" is different; it is not now considered an entity, as of old; but rather a compound thing, a product, a complex, composed of a variety of elements. Instead of being considered a single gossamer thread, it is now thought to be rather a rope, composed of innumerable, interwoven elements—and these, in turn, of still finer threads, until the subdivision seems endless. The mind, in other words, is thought to be compounded of innumerable separate elements; but held together, or compounded into one, by the normal action of the will, of attention, and the grip upon the personality of the true Self. When this will is weakened; when the attention is constantly slackened, when the mind wanders, this single strand of rope separates and unravels. The "threads" branch out in various directions, no longer in control of the central, governing will; the Self has become dissociated or split-up into various minor Selves—all but parts of the real, total self; yet separate and distinct, nevertheless. And if enough of these threads become joined together, or interwoven, one with another, it can easily be imagined that this second strand of rope might become a formidable opponent to the original strand; it might become so large and strong, in fact, by the constant addition of new threads, and the dissociation of these from the first, true strand, that it would assume a more important rôle, and become stronger, and finally even control the whole. What was originally but a single fine, divergent thread has become, in course of time, a successful rival to the original strand of rope.
Now let us apply the analogy. The mind as a whole represents the rope; its elements or component parts are the threads; and, under certain abnormal conditions, these can become torn away from the original Self—like little rivulets, branching off from the main stream of consciousness, forming independent selves. This is an abnormal condition; a splitting of the mind, a dissociation of consciousness. Another fragment of consciousness, distinct in itself, has been formed. Thus we have a case of so-called double consciousness, of alternating personality; or, if there are three or more such splits or cleavages, of multiple personality.[21]
Now we are in a better position to understand the nature of this alien self which has been formed, and which alternately usurps the common body. It is no foreign spirit; it is not a demon or fiend which has entered into the subject; it is merely a portion of the patient's own mind, acting independently a life of its own. It is a portion of the real Self, functioning independently. Let us now see how these splits or dissociations take place.
Often they are the result of some shock to the emotional nature. In one of Dr. Morton Prince's cases, the patient happened to look up and saw in the window the face of a man whom she had known years before, and with whom she had tragic emotional associations. It was storming at the time, and a lightning flash revealed the face in the window. It was a highly dramatic scene, and the shock to the patient's emotional nature caused her consciousness to split-up or become dissociated into various selves; and thenceforward for years these separate "selves" lived independent lives, each ignorant of the life of the other. In this case, there were several such personalities which alternated; and they were only finally unified and the real Self again restored by means of hypnotic suggestion, after a careful analysis of the various selves. This synthesis of the various streams of consciousness, and their ultimate unification into one primary normal self, is one of the most startling, as it is one of the most interesting and suggestive, feats of modern psychological medicine.
The principle upon which many of these cures rest, and the efficacy of suggestion, is thus apparent. By its aid the skilled specialist in abnormal psychology is enabled to gather up the "loose ends" of conscious life, as it were, and unify and consolidate them into one normal, healthy Self. He is enabled to weave them all together, and again restore the "sheath" or "wrapper" of the individual human will, keeping these threads in place henceforth, and restoring the healthy, normal personality; the mens sana in corpore sano.
Exactly how all this can come about I shall now endeavour to show. Before any of the more complex and complicated disorders of the mind can be understood, it will be necessary for us to discuss very briefly the nature of the subconscious mind—since it is upon this that all modern researches have in a great measure rested—upon the improved understanding of its nature that many of these cures rest.
It has long been known that there is a sort of mind in us, capable, at times, of performing complicated and intelligent actions without the co-operation or knowledge of the conscious mind. We see examples of this daily—in the absent-minded actions of certain individuals, in the dream life, in hypnotic trance, and in many of the cases of normal and peculiar mental action, of which numerous examples might be given, but which are so well known that it is hardly necessary at this late date to elaborate in detail. The idea has been so extensively employed by Hudson in his theory of "the subjective mind," and by others, that the general theory has pretty well saturated the public mind. Hudson's theory—otherwise open to many criticisms—is very lax, not to say erroneous, in its construction, and is not accepted today by any competent psychologist. Apart from the mysterious powers with which he endowed the "subjective" mind, he makes it now synonymous with the whole of the subconscious life outside the field of immediate consciousness; now as equivalent merely to the hypnotic stratum; now to a dream-like self, etc., until the term has become so elastic that it means nothing intelligible but everything in general! As understood by the modern psychologist, the term "subconscious mind" must be defined far more accurately before we can proceed to use it as a working hypothesis. What, then, is understood by the subconscious mind? What part of us can perform conscious operations without our being conscious of them? How can we perform intelligent operations without intelligence? It all depends upon the meaning we give to our terms. We must begin by explaining just what is meant by the "subconscious mind"; then, perhaps, we can better understand its operations and aberrations.
There are several theories as to the nature of this subterranean stratum of our being—this hidden self—each of which finds its champion in the modern psychological schools. First, there is the theory that it consists merely in the mechanical workings of the brain—a purely physiological theory, which makes the subconscious mind synonymous with certain brain activities—much the same as a series of complex reactions. It is well known that there is a brain-change corresponding to every thought we think; and the nature of the connection between the two has been one of the most debated points in metaphysics, and is one which, if we thoroughly understood it, would doubtless solve in a great measure the nature of life and of consciousness. Without going into this very complex question, however, there remains the undoubted fact of the connection; the thought, which is known by us in consciousness; and the brain-change, which has been verified by ingenious mechanical and electrical instruments, and the effects of which we behold in the chemical changes in the brain-substance itself after severe thinking. This being so, it has been said, Why not suppose that so-called subconscious actions are merely brain activities which take place, but which have never risen into consciousness? Professor Münsterberg and others hold this view. It has been conclusively shown, however, by Dr. Morton Prince and others, that this theory fails to explain adequately many of the facts—seems indeed contrary to much experimental evidence; and this view is now given up by all but the most materialistic of the modern psychological school. We have to search deeper yet for the mystery of the subconscious mind; and we shall have to grant it a certain amount of consciousness of its own, apart from all purely brain activity.
A very opposite theory is that advanced by Mr. F. W. H. Myers—that of the "subliminal self." This theory says that the conscious mind is but an infinitely small part of our total self—a mere fragment; that portion best adapted to meet the needs of everyday life. To borrow an analogy from physics, "consciousness is only the visible portion of the spectrum; the invisible, ultra portions are our subconscious selves." I shall not venture upon a criticism of this theory beyond saying that the majority of modern psychologists do not hold to it; and hence, whether it be ultimately true or false, we must disregard it for our present purposes.
Thirdly, there is the theory that the subconscious mind is composed entirely of dissociated or split-off ideas—ideas which have been dissociated or split off from the main stream of consciousness, much as a few freight cars might be shunted on to a side track by the switch-engine. This hypothesis is very similar to another theory, which contends that the subconsciousness consists of dissociated experiences—mental happenings which have been forgotten or passed beyond voluntary recall. For these mental states, or rather trains of thought, Prince has suggested the term "co-conscious," because they are conscious processes in operation at the same time as the normal consciousness. This theory is doubtless far nearer an adequate explanation of the facts than that which contends that the subconscious is merely a portion of the field of consciousness which happens to lie outside the field of attention, because that is a theory certainly inadequate to cover the facts. This last hypothesis is one which seems to be favoured by Coriat and others, but it is certainly limited in its application.
Now let us see if we cannot obtain a clearer grasp of the facts, in view of the above discussion as to the nature of the subconscious mind. We may sum-up the facts as follows:—
As the result, either of some sudden shock, or by reason of certain subjective psychological practices carried to an extreme, we have a splitting of the mind into two or more separate streams, which function separately and independently, and generally with no memory connection between the two, so that each is ignorant of what the other stream, or self, is doing. This is already an abnormal condition, a pathological state, and its severity depends upon the degree of cleavage between the streams of thought. If this be deep and lasting, we have a well-marked case of hysteria, or other disorders to be noted immediately; if, on the other hand, the cleavage be slight, we have merely absent-mindedness, wandering of the mind, and many lesser symptoms which indicate this tendency to dissociation, and which should be checked at all costs in their inception, since they are symptomatic of the tendency to disintegration of the mind, and which, if unchecked, would lead to grave disturbances later on. It is because of this fact that too much automatic writing, crystal-gazing, meditation, attendance at spiritistic circles, etc., is harmful; they one and all induce a passive state of the mind which favours dissociation and disintegration. Many of the insanities start in this fashion; and all such practices, instead of being encouraged, should be discouraged; and all experienced and intelligent students of psychical research warn those who "dabble" in the subject against the repeated and promiscuous indulgence in such practices—because of the dangerous, even disastrous, effects upon the mind, in many instances.
But we have not yet reached a distinctly morbid state. This dissociation may be slight, and of little consequence; and may even be completely "healed" without the knowledge of the patient; without his knowledge that anything strange has taken place at all—just as tubercular lesions of the lungs may be healed without the patient ever having known that he had suffered from tuberculosis. The co-conscious stream may again be diverted into the main, healthy channel; the threads of the wounded mind may again be bound up, with only a scar to indicate where the delicate protective covering had been ruptured. If such is the case, all is well thenceforward.
But the termination of the accident may not be so fortunate. If, as before said, the cleavage be deep and lasting; and if, instead of attempting to bind up the wounded mind, those practices which caused the original "split" be persisted in; if shock follow shock—to the mental, moral, emotional, or physical nature; if great exhaustion, lack of sleep, or of proper food, or other causes of a like nature, be present—then it is evident that the cleavage must become deeper and deeper yet; and, in a short time, the few stray, wandering thoughts become grouped and bound together, and begin to form a veritable psychological entity. A secondary, an alien self, has been formed. And just as it is increasingly difficult to dam-up a river which has once found its way to some unaccustomed channel, so this secondary stream of consciousness will soon become a rushing, mighty torrent, incapable of being checked or dammed in its mad course.
So long as this split-off portion remains a mass of sporadic thoughts, not much damage has been done; but when they become abnormally linked or associated together, forming groups, then the abnormal conditions have begun in earnest. These masses of subconscious experiences are called "complexes," and give rise to all sorts of trouble. It must not be thought that this complex formation is always harmful; on the contrary, this very process, when normally conducted, is the basis of our educational processes. But when they are thus conglomerated and consolidated outside the conscious mind, and function automatically, involuntarily, by themselves, then they have become dangerous to the mental stability. Their pressure and influence may be felt in the conscious life—in fantastic imaginations, in fears, phobias, and obsessions—in morbid dreams—in morbid emotional and moral reactions throughout the entire psycho-physical life. It is these automatic, self-acting complexes which originate many of the disorders of the mind.
How, then, are we to diagnose this condition when once it has been reached; and, when once diagnosed, how is it to be treated? These are the all-important questions which modern psychological students have set themselves to solve, with more or less success. As briefly as may be, these are the methods.
In the first place, a careful system of observation, question, and experiment will yield many important results. An analysis of the dream life will prove of great value in this connection also. If the dreams cannot be voluntarily recalled, they are brought to light by means of hypnotism, psycho-analysis, or the employment of what is known as the "hypnoidal" state—as induced by Dr. Boris Sidis. This is an artificially induced condition, half-way between sleeping and waking, in which many half-forgotten experiences again merge into the mind; and even thoughts which had never been in the conscious mind at all—subconscious observations, etc., or the content of the dream life. These dreams are then analysed. It is a very striking fact that differing or alternating selves may have entirely different dreams; or, on the other hand, different and distinct selves may have a common meeting-place in the dream world. By means of dreams, it has thus been possible to come in touch with the thoughts of the other Self, which had been impossible by any other means at our disposal. A study and analysis of the dream life has thus assumed great importance within the past few years, and bids fair to assume greater and greater importance as the study of the subconscious, and abnormal psychology, increases.
Other methods of tapping the subconscious mental life are: planchette, automatic writing and crystal-gazing. In the former cases, a pencil is placed in the hand of the subject, or the hand is placed on a planchette; and, while the conscious mind is occupied in conversation, or reading aloud, etc., the hand is, nevertheless, writing out an account of its experiences—its thoughts and feelings—which prove highly valuable to the investigator. Or the patient may be asked to look into a crystal, and describe what, if any, visions and pictures form within the ball. These pictures are, of course, hallucinatory; but they indicate, none the less, the content of the subconscious mind; since they are the externalized thoughts and feelings of that stratum of the mind. Here, again, we have a valuable means of diagnosis.
Again, we have a purely experimental method of studying the emotions—by means of the galvanometer. An electric current being passed through the body, variations in the current are detected by means of an electric needle, which fluctuates as the current varies. Now, it has been found that these fluctuations vary in accordance with changed emotional states; and that in certain conditions of the mind, such as dementia, the variations are almost entirely absent, because of the lack of emotional reactions. It has thus been found that this form of insanity is largely a disease of the emotional life. On the other hand, when the emotions are strong, the fluctuations of the needle are very marked and prolonged. We have thus another most valuable method of testing the emotional life—always largely subconscious—by means of purely mechanical instruments.
Finally, we have hypnotism, the skilled employment of which has been found of inestimable value in laying bare the secrets of the subconscious life. By its aid it has been found possible to disclose the secrets of being, to tap the subconscious mind at will, to explore the hidden regions of Self, which would otherwise have remained for ever inaccessible to the experimenter. For, by placing the patient in the hypnotic condition, the subconscious mind is exposed to view, as it were, and its secrets made manifest. The wounds and scars are thus rendered visible to the mental eye of the physician, and he is enabled to treat his case accordingly.
Yes, hypnotism has been found one of the chief means of cure as well as of diagnosis. By its aid the tangled skein of the mental life may be unravelled, the mental knots may be untied, and the threads may be woven and plaited together again into one normal, healthy chain of being. This may be accomplished by means of suggestion rightly applied. When once the hidden complex has been brought to the surface, when its story is told, its secrets laid bare, it seems incapable of doing more damage, of again influencing the mental life detrimentally. Its life, its vitality, seems to have gone; its ammunition has been stolen, it has "shot its bolt," it is incapable of doing more injury to the normal self. Many hidden fears, depressions, and obsessions have been removed in this manner, simply by bringing these hidden fears and thoughts to the surface and disposing of them by means of suggestion. Many seemingly miraculous cures have been effected in this manner. The "demons" have been expelled, the brooding thoughts have vanished. This method of dispelling them is technically known as the cathartic method, and consists simply in a frank and full confession. When this has been brought about, when the brooding thoughts have been brought to light—confessed and discharged, as it were, from the mind—then a cure will be found to have been wrought; the man has again been made whole—a very significant fact if taken in connection with religious conversion, communion, confession, and prayer.
We have somewhat diverged, however, from our main theme, to which we must now return. We have seen that the subconscious mind may become, so to speak, diseased—this consisting very largely in the processes of dissociation, complex formation, etc. Further, we have seen that this dissociated, automatically-acting "self" may exist either as a separate stream of thought running alongside of, or rather below the main current; or may alternate with it, by rising to the surface and occupying the whole stage to the exclusion of the normal consciousness—when we have those cases of alternating or multiplex personality which have so puzzled psychologists for many years—and the correct interpretation of which we are only just beginning to realize. When this complete change of "self" has taken place, we have those cases of altered personality referred to at the beginning of this chapter—cases which are tragic in the extreme in many instances, but which represent merely extreme types of those losses of memory from which we all suffer, to a greater or lesser extent, even in our normal life. The restoration of lost memories by means of suggestion—the synthesis of the dissociated states—this is the key to the mystery, the great secret of modern psychotherapy.
And this theory of dissociation of consciousness has enabled us to explain many puzzling facts hitherto inexplicable. Thus hysteria, with its multiform symptoms and its internal contradictions, has long been the stumbling-block of medicine. Now it is no longer thought to be a morbid state (dependent usually upon sexual disturbances), but it is regarded rather as an indication of the splitting of the mind, a dissociation which embraces all the motor, physical, and psychical activities. On this theory, hysteria is easily explained and all its multiplex symptoms understood. In treating it, the self is unified, abnormal suggestibility is removed, and the patient is cured!
Psychaesthenia again, with its obsessions and fears, may be explained in the same manner, and its cure rests upon the same principles. The "attacks" cease so soon as the psychical synthesis is effected and the morbid self-consciousness removed.
Neurasthenia, long regarded as a pathological state, due to auto-intoxication and similar causes, is now thought to be due chiefly to dissociation, caused by excessive fatigue—one of the known contributory causes to this condition. Psycho-epilepsy—a sort of fictitious imitation of the real disease—is due to precisely similar causes, and may be cured in a similar manner.
A word of caution may not be out of place in this connection. Inasmuch as hypnotism is itself a method of inducing a passive psychological state—one peculiarly open to suggestion of all kinds—it can readily be seen that its employment may be exceedingly dangerous, save in the hands of a skilled operator. It may be the very cause of a splitting of the mind—if improperly administered—if the patient is not thoroughly awakened, the effects of suggestion completely removed, etc. In this lies the great danger—of which we hear so much, usually with so little foundation! The real danger in the process is thus apparent; but, properly applied, hypnotism is doubtless of great therapeutic utility and of great practical value to the psychologist.
Just how these dissociations of the mind take place we do not yet know with any degree of certainty. We might suppose that certain areas in the brain-cortex become detached in their functionings, as it were, from the general activities, and set up a little "monarchy" of their own—interactions and associations going on within that area, but never extending beyond its periphery; that each one of these centres or areas corresponds to a "self," a personality; and that a cure consists, physiologically speaking, in bringing about a healthy and normal interaction between this "self" and the rest of the brain area, so that associations go on thenceforward in a complete and uniform manner. But this is pure speculation, for which there is no experimental evidence, though it probably represents something of the truth. At all events, the dissociation of the mind is the chief cause of the trouble, and its synthesis the chief means of cure. That much has been rendered certain by the newer researches in the field of the subconscious, and by the persistent search for that greatest of all secrets—the Mystery of Being.