Conflict and Decision
It appears that in our "digging" we have now struck another vein, for here we have the fact of one tendency running contrary to another and inhibiting it. Conflict of desires and the consequent necessity of choosing between [{529}] them, is thus brought vividly to our attention. Every one would at once agree that "will" and "choice" belong closely together. The most distinctly voluntary acts occur when two alternatives are thought of, and one of them is chosen.
Organized as we are by nature, that is to say, on a large scale, but incompletely--environed as we are, with multitudinous stimuli constantly playing on us and arousing contrary tendencies--we cannot hope to escape conflict of motives and the necessity of making decisions. Every decision made, every conflict resolved, is a step in the further organization of the individual. It may be a step in a good direction, or in a bad direction, but it is a step in organizing the individual's reaction-tendencies into what we call his character--the more or less organized sum total of his native and acquired tendencies to reaction, with emphasis on those reactions that affect his life and social relations in a broad way.
The lowest animals, having few reaction tendencies, and being responsive to only a narrow environment, show little sign of internal conflict, and when it does occur it is resolved very simply by the advantage going to one of the opposing tendencies, with perhaps a shift later to the other, in the way described in our earlier consideration of attention. [Footnote: [See p. 251.]] This type of decision is fundamental. In the behavior of higher animals, we sometimes detect signs of a longer-persisting conflict, as between curiosity and fear, when a wild creature seems poised between his inclination to approach and examine a strange object and his inclination to run away, veering now towards the one and now towards the other alternative, and unable, as it seems, to reach a decision.
Conflict between the enterprising tendency to explore, manipulate or somehow launch forth into the new, and the negative tendencies of fear, inertia, shyness, etc., is [{530}] something that recurs again and again in human experience, as illustrated by making up your mind to get up in the morning, or to plunge into the cold water, or to speak up and have your say in a general conversation. There is a hesitancy in such cases, due to a positive and a negative tendency. The conflict may be resolved in favor of the negative tendency by simple prolongation of the hesitation till the occasion for action has passed, or it may be resolved in favor of the positive tendency when this is strong enough for an instant to enable the individual to commit himself to the enterprise, after which he usually stays committed. The positive motive must for an instant be stronger than the negative, in order to get action.
A somewhat different type of conflict, which may be called vacillation, occurs when two positive tendencies are aroused that are inconsistent with each other, so that gratification of the one entails renunciation of the other. Old Buridan's celebrated problem of the ass, placed equally distant from two equally attractive bundles of hay, and whether he would starve to death from the exact balance of the two opposing tendencies, is a sort of parable to fit this case. Probably the poor ass did not starve--unless he richly deserved his name--but he may conceivably have ended the very uncomfortable state of vacillation by running away altogether, as a human being, who is really more subject to vacillation than any other creature, is sometimes so much disturbed at having to decide between two invitations for the same day as to decline both, and go fishing. Vacillation is certainly a very unpleasant state of mind. We want action, or else we want peace, but vacillation gives us neither. In spite of its irksomeness, we seem sometimes almost powerless to end it, because as soon as we have about decided on the one alternative, what we shall miss by not choosing the other comes vividly to mind, and swings the pendulum its way.
However it comes about that a decision is reached, it usually is reached, and the curious fact then is that it usually sticks. A student may vacillate long between the apparently equal attractions of two colleges, but when he finally decides on one, the advantages of the other lose their hold on him. Now he is all for one and not at all for the other. Having identified himself with one college, he has completely altered the balance of attractions, his self-assertion now going wholly on the side of the chosen college, and even leading him to pick flaws in the other as if to reinforce his decision. In other words, he "rationalizes", justifies, and fortifies his decision, once he has reached it. Some people, indeed, are abnormally subject to vacillation and seem never to accept their own decisions as final, but normally there are strong influences tending to maintain a decision, once it is made: the unpleasantness of the state of vacillation and relief at having escaped from it; the satisfaction of having a definite course of action; and self-assertion, because we have decided, and now this course of action is ours. During vacillation, neither of the alternatives was identified with ourselves, but now we have decided and are not going to be so weak as to change. X is our college now and anything you say against it you say against us. Thus the person who has decided defends himself energetically against reopening the question.
The state of indecision and the state of decision seem thus fairly well understood, but the process of passing from the one to the other is often obscure. It differs from one case to another. In one case we find the rational process of deliberation, in which each alternative is weighed and the decision awarded to the one that promises best. This is essentially a work of imagination: you imagine that you have adopted the one alternative, and see how it suits you, then you do the same with the other alternative. You think each [{532}] alternative through to see how satisfactory it will be, balance one against the other, and choose accordingly. This is ideal, but often impracticable, since we have not the time for full deliberation, or since we cannot trust imagination to give us a correct picture, or since we have no common measure by aid of which to balance off different sorts of satisfaction. Even when practicable, the deliberate way of reaching a decision is likely to seem irksome, because of the delay involved and the natural propensity for impulsive action. Perhaps the most common process is a sort of partial deliberation, the two alternatives appealing to us by turns till at some moment one makes a strong enough appeal to secure action.
Sometimes there is a deadlock, and then we either give up deciding for the moment, and, sleeping over the matter, find when we next take it up that one alternative has lost its momentary attractiveness and the other has the field; or else, feeling the irksomeness and humiliation, almost, of being unable to make up our mind, we say, "Any decision is better than none; here goes, then; this is what I will do", so breaking the deadlock by what seems like an arbitrary toss-up.
At other times, without such a distinct "act of will", and without any observable change in the attractiveness of either alternative, we simply find, after awhile, that a decision has emerged, and that we now know what we are going to do. What has happened in us to bring about the decision we cannot see, but here we are with a decision made and perhaps with the act already performed. The two alternatives remain theoretically equal, but one has somehow got hold of us, while the other has lapsed.
Then there is the case where we "see the better, but follow the worse", or are in great danger of so doing. The "worse" is usually something that appeals to the [{533}] "old Adam" in us, something that strongly arouses a primitive instinctive response; while the "better" is a nobler, more dutiful, or more prudent course. The lower motive being the stronger, how can it ever be that the higher motive gets the decision? Well, the fight is not just a contest between these two. Other motives are drawn into the fray, the whole man is drawn in, and it is a question which side is the stronger. Fear of ridicule or criticism, sense of duty, self-respect, ambition, ideals of oneself, concern for the welfare of another person, loyalty to a social group, may be ranged on the side of the "weaker" motive and give it the advantage over the stronger.
What becomes of the rejected motives? If unimportant and s superficial, they simply lapse into an inactive state and are gradually forgotten, perhaps recurring to mind once in a while with a faint tinge of regret, since after all we should have liked to gratify them. "As a boy, I wanted to be a sailor; well, I would rather like to try it for once." When a motive is deeply rooted in our nature, it cannot be so easily eliminated. Sometimes it is simply deferred and remains dormant, content to bide its time; "there will be time enough for that later on". Sometimes it is disguised and then gratified, as when an apparently courteous deed contains an element of spite. Sometimes it is afforded a substitute gratification, as when the boastful boy, after having his "conceit taken out of him" by his mates, boasts of his school, profession, town or country. This is often called "sublimation". Sometimes, though denied, it remains insistent, and "defense mechanisms" have to be devised to keep it down; the "sour grapes" mechanism is an example, which may be used not only when the "grapes" are physically out of reach but also when for any reason we decide to leave them alone.
The psychoanalytic school lays great stress on [{534}] "suppressed" desires, holding that they become unconscious while still remaining active, and that they find gratification symbolically in dreams, and at times break into waking life in a disturbing way.
The most adequate way of handling rejected motives is to coördinate them with other, accepted motives--to harness them into teams and put them to work. This cannot always be done; for example, if a young woman has two attractive suitors, she might find difficulty in harnessing them together, and will have to say good-by to one, at least. But when the boastful boy becomes a loyal and enthusiastic member of a school, his self-assertive motive is harnessed up with social motives into a very effective team. Probably a tendency can only be "sublimated" by being thus combined and coördinated with other strong tendencies.
These various ways of handling a rejected motive could be nicely illustrated from the case of the sex instinct. It so happens, partly because modern economic and educational conditions enforce a delay in marriage--and in part simply because there are so many attractive people in the world--that the cravings of sex must often be denied. What becomes of them? Of course the sex instinct is too deep-seated to be eradicated or permanently to lapse into a dormant state. But the fascination for particular individuals may so lapse or be forgotten. Certain people we remember, once in a while, with half-humorous and certainly not very poignant regret. Deferring the whole matter till the time is ripe works well with many a youth or maiden. Combined with social interests, the sex motive finds sublimated satisfaction in a great variety of amusements, as well as in business associations between the sexes. Introduce a nice young lady into an officeful of men, and the atmosphere changes, often for the better,--which means, certainly, that the sex motive of these men, combined with ordinary business [{535}] motives, is finding a sublimated satisfaction. The sex motive thus enters into a great variety of human affairs. "Defense mechanisms" are common in combating unacceptable erotic impulses; the sour grapes mechanism sometimes takes the extreme form of a hatred of the other sex; but a very good and useful device of this general sort is to throw oneself into some quite different type of activity, as the young man may successfully work off his steam in athletics. This is not sublimation, in any proper use of that term, for athletic sport does not gratify the sex tendency in the least, but it gratifies other tendencies and so gratifies the individual. It is the individual that must be satisfied, rather than any specified one of his tendencies. As regards coördination, the fact was illustrated just above that this method would not always work; but sometimes it works immensely well. Here is a young person (either sex), in the twenties, with insistent sex impulses, tempted to yield to the fascination of some mediocre representative of the other sex. Such a low-level attachment, however, militates against self-respect, work, ambition, social sense. Where is the "coördination"? It has to be found; some worthy mate will harness all these tendencies, stimulating and gratifying sex attraction, self-respect, ambition, and others besides, and coördinating them all into the complex and decidedly high-grade sentiment of love.