§ 128
Evolution has produced in man a being in whom the erotic has now a greater significance than the egoistic-social impulse. In the development of plant and animal forms, science recognizes certain new productions that differ from the norm of the species in which they appear, in such a way that they were at first called freaks or mutations. But as they breed true to their form, they are necessarily regarded not as freaks (lusus naturæ), but as well established varieties.
The establishment of the erotic as a norm in humans has the further implication that here we have a phenomenon existent nowhere else in life, namely the non-procreative or social love episode.
Indeed it may be that love itself, as distinguished from sensual desire, is a mutation on the psychical level, a form not recognized in any description of natural phenomena until late in man’s evolution—the love that comprises both physical and spiritual reaction for the man, and both physical and spiritual counter-reaction from the woman. Without this interaction man cannot be said truly to love.
For the man of today, who has succeeded in placing the erotic above the egoistic-social impulse, has achieved a height that few, if any, have attained before him, has gained a joy and fullness of living compared with which the so-called happiness of successful marriage according to former standards is but foredawn to noon-day.
The existence of this higher type of erotic control leading to the establishment of the non-procreative or social love episode, brings into clearest relief the distinction between control as repression and control as expression.
Control as expression is analogous to driving a horse and getting somewhere, control as repression is like unharnessing him and letting him run away. Control of the erotic instinct by repressing is not like shooting the horse, because repression never annihilates an impulse but only removes it from conscious control.
Keeping in mind this difference between control by repression, which is only apparent, not real, annihilation, only removal from consciousness and not destruction of the impulse, we shall more easily note the necessary connection between self-control and individuality, i.e., personality.
His individuality is just what he makes up his mind, and exercises his utmost imagination, to do. His work is his own, only in so far as he controls his actions in doing it, so that they are better than the external demand. If he is an office boy and told to put stamps on envelopes, he can do it and only it, or he can put them on so quickly or so straight that the quickness or straightness is immediately seen as his particular part of the performance.
He can control the actions of his work and his play; but, except indirectly, he cannot control his digestion, respiration, blood pressure or circulation. He has to eat more digestible food, or to take more exercise, or to cultivate pressure-raising emotions, or those that lower the blood pressure.
He has been taught to believe that his physical constitution and his instincts are tendencies inherited from his ancestors and that he cannot control them. If his instincts or inherited disposition make him lose his temper so that he is not himself, he is supposed not to be responsible for all he does.
But is he freed from responsibility because he is temporarily governed by his instincts, or is he steered by his instincts only when and because he throws away responsibility? Is it impulsive, instinctive action that excuses him, or is it excuses that are wanted by him, which makes him call his action, or the part of it he wants to be excused for, instinctive?
Is not his only reason for calling some actions instinctive or impulsive the fact that he does not want to be held responsible for them? What he cannot control is not his fault. Therefore, what he does not want to be blamed for he says is not under his control. Any thing, person or mysterious power can be made the scapegoat for his misdeed. Much more likely is he to blame other things, persons or powers for what he does contrary to what he thinks people want him to do, than to account for some praiseworthy action by saying it was the result of some power other than himself.
If his marriage has turned out unhappily he consoles himself by saying all marriage is a lottery. If it turns out well he pats himself on the back and says, in actions though not in so many words: “See what a fine match I have made!” But why should he take only praise and put blame on some mysterious power—luck, or providence or what not?