Instinct And Culture

( Originally Published 1922 )

In Chapter III, I referred to the claims of many writers that our culture and institutions are rooted in and shaped by our store of innate tendencies and capacities, and to the claims of another group of writers that institutions and culture should be but are not. It was the latter position that I examined in the foregoing chapter. I now wish to examine the claim that our culture, institutions, and customs are rooted in and determined by our innate tendencies.

If this claim is true, then it should follow that the culture of the same race should show striking similarities, and cultural changes should be very slow since original nature is supposed to vary little, if any, over long periods of time. On the other hand, if, as I have suggested, the behavior and desires of an individual are determined by the relation he sustains to his environment, it should follow that the many variable factors that go to make one's desires and activities should bring about such a variety of customs and institutions that they cannot be regarded as rooted in or determined by any factor supposed to be common to all of them. Under this last view there is no difficulty in accounting for sudden variations in customs or moral ideas, nor in accounting for wide variations of culture found in the same race.

The most casual observation of human behavior and of customs and institutions reveals wide discrepancies. Any explanation of adult behavior must, therefore, give some account of the great discrepancies in the likes and dislikes of man for the same object, for the great diversity of moral ideas and sentiments, and the variety of customs, taboos, institutions, and social organizations. These facts must be accounted for. The question is: To what extent can they be regarded as determined by our supply of instincts, or profitably rooted in original nature?

I am careful to say profitably rooted, for no matter what man does, it may in a sense be regarded as rooted in his original nature, since man cannot act or be affected in a way that is without the range of his capacities.

Before undertaking to answer this question certain principles should be laid down. In the first place, when there is a question regarding the advisability of rooting certain behavior or structures in the original nature of an organism, we should know if the discussion is limited to the species to which the organism belongs or if we are making a comparison of organisms belonging to different species.

The value of this can be shown by reference to a concrete case showing variation in the structure of organisms of the same species. For instance, it has been found that when certain aphids are raised on the heavy salts of magnesia and sugar they become winged. When raised on other substances they remain wingless.

The question arises: Shall the wings be regarded as rooted in the original germ-plasm of the aphids? In answering this question we should know if we are discussing aphids only, or if we are comparing aphids with other insects which under no condition can be made to develop wings. In the former case there would be little value in regarding the wings as rooted in original nature, for it is seen that the wings bear a constant relationship to environmental conditions, and are therefore more profitably regarded as due to the particular treatment rather than as an outgrowth of a "capacity to be affected" in the germ-plasm. On the other hand, if we are comparing aphids with other species, which cannot be affected so as to produce wings, then to root the "capacity to be affected" so as to produce wings in the original nature of the aphids would be of value.

The second principle that should guide us in deter-mining the advisability of rooting behavior or structure in original nature is: The greater the degree of uniformity in development, in spite of variations in the environmental conditions, the more profitably can the development be regarded as rooted in original nature. Thus if it should be found that aphids continue to have six feet under all environmental conditions, then we can with a good deal of assurance regard the six feet as rooted in the original nature of aphids.

Applying these principles to man, let us consider the advisability of rooting culture in man's original nature. On observation we find that all men possess a culture. Whatever the environment may be, man possesses a culture and is profoundly influenced by it. We may, therefore, without hesitation, regard this capacity to select certain preferred ways of living and to pass them down as rooted in man's original nature.

If we consider, however, the various products of culture the case may not be so clear. These present such a wide diversity in spite of the common factor of race, and the variations bear such a constant relation to variables in the environment, that it may appear of little profit to regard particular cultures, or particular cultural products, as rooted in man's original nature as long as we wish to confine our discussion to man. If, however, we wish to compare man with other animals, which under no conditions possess a culture, then of course the "capacity to be affected" may with profit be regarded as a distinguishing mark of man's original nature.

In a sense, therefore, all cultural products may be regarded with profit as rooted in man's original nature, since man of all animals is the only one to possess a culture. But in another sense, that is, in the discussions regarding the relation of original nature to culture, we may find it of slight advantage to regard culture as so rooted; for particular cultures vary so much that as long as our discussions are limited to man and his behavior it appears of slight profit to regard so many variables as rooted. in or determined by any constant factor.

With these principles in mind, let us consider whether we can profitably root customs, institutions, and cultural products in general in man's original nature. Let us consider first the behavior of man in the state, religion, business, and family. Thorndike states that his behavior in these relations is so rooted. But does the behavior in these relations present a uniformity that invites us to regard it as determined by a single factor?

For instance, what do we find regarding behavior in the state? We find that some men are rulers, some subjects; that some prefer one form of government, some another; that some are pacifists, others militarists; that some are nationalists, others internationalists, and so on.

If we consider man's religious activities and attitudes we find the same. Some men are pantheists, others atheists. Some are believers in Christ, some in Buddha, and still others in Mohammed. Some are pious, others are impious. Some are reverent, others are irreverent. Some are superstitious, others are "scientific," and so on. An examination of cult practices would reveal the same diversity. For instance, in many groups it has been the custom, and still is in some, to stimulate fertility in nature by wild abandon and orgistic ceremonies of various sorts. While in other groups the planting time is one of complete abstinence from sex life.

If we consider man in his business relations we find the same. Some are capable, others are incapable. Some are successful, others are unsuccessful. Some have a high sense of honor, others are dishonest, and so on.

Such a variety as this indicates that it is of slight value to regard this behavior as rooted in original nature. This becomes all the more apparent when we remember that the behavior and preferences in every case would most likely have been different if the conditions surrounding the individual had been different. Thus no one would daim that the religious beliefs of a man are rooted in his original nature.* But neither are his political ideals. Nor his position in the state. The same is true in business. Original nature is only one factor that makes for success or failure. The same person may be a success or failure depending on external conditions, such as competition, accidents of investments, favorable breaks of the market, etc. And his success or failure in business has a profound influence on his other activities and even attitudes. Thus, whether he is reverent or irreverent may depend on his success in business, for not only are the objects of reverence determined by one's environment, but the attitude itself is in a great measure a reflection of one's own experiences. The same is true of honesty. It is a common saying that a man is as honest as conditions will allow. This statement may seem rather cynical when examined in the light of American ideals and high regard for honesty. But making all due allowance for this, it is certain that one's regard for the truth is determined by his training rather than by his original nature.

It thus becomes evident that what the man is is determined not by his original nature, for the same original nature may give rise to hundreds of men quite different in their ideals, values, sentiments, and impulses but by the variable conditions which have affected his original nature so as to give rise to the particular man that he is.

The family, however, should offer the best field to establish the claim that the behavior of man is rooted in his original nature. This is due to the fact that the family is a more fundamental institution and is in answer to more direct needs than the other institutions considered. It also affords less room for variation. Hence, its organization should show the uniformity, and should be the object of a common regard that is expected of an institution largely determined by one factor. If we fail to find value in rooting this institution in original nature, then we may well infer that no institution can be profitably regarded in that way.

The dawn of the human family is heralded in the family organization of the higher apes and gorillas. The dependence of the female and young ape or gorilla for protection on the male made necessary an organization of some kind. It is only natural to suppose that along with this necessity went dispositions that made companionship between the sexes pleasant, and that as a consequence the family organization as it exists among apes and gorillas resulted. By the same reasoning we should infer that since the above needs are even greater in the human species, the dispositions just referred to are even stronger in man than they are in the apes and gorillas, and that as a result we have the more permanent family organization as found in the human race.

We should not, however, be too hasty in making a generalization here. We may not have taken into consideration all the factors, or even the determining factors, that make the human family what it is.

As far as we know man is the only animal that possesses a culture. The activities of other animals are so largely the result of unreflection, and so true to the type of their species, that it is hardly profitable to regard their actions as influenced by culture. With man it is quite different. He has a capacity for culture and of being profoundly influenced by it that sets him off in striking contrast to the other animals. Indeed, one might say that the behavior of man bears the same relation to his culture that the behavior of other animals bears to their original nature. This statement may be extreme, but certainly man's capacity for being profoundly influenced by culture reveals a plasticity in man's original nature that makes a striking contrast to the rigid determinateness found in other animals; for the amount of determinateness is in inverse ratio to the capacity to be influenced.

On account of this capacity and of the modifications that man undergoes as the result of cultural influences, we may be led to hold, in spite of the fact that the family organization is in answer to needs that are common to all men and to many other animals, that the family cannot be regarded with profit as rooted in original nature. The influence of culture may be so profound, and bring about so many variations, that the institution may be regarded with greater profit as largely determined by cultural influences. For if the family is rooted in original nature it should reveal a striking degree of similarity in the relations between the various members of the family, and should be the object of very similar regard by all men. On the other hand, if it is determined largely by cultural influences, we should expect great variety in the forms of the family organization, and variations in the relations between the various members of the family which should bear a high correlation with certain cultural variables.

It remains then for us to make an examination of the family in various cultures in order to see if its organization presents the uniformity that should characterize an institution determined by a common factor, or whether its organization presents a diversity that we should expect of an organization determined by the many chance factors that go to make up any given culture. The relation of husband to wife will provide suitable material to begin the examination.

Among us it is ordinarily supposed that marriages are founded on mutual respect and consideration, and that husbands shall be kind and even deferential to their wives. This is quite different from what it is among the lower class of Europe. The wives of the lower class Slays feel hurt if they are not beaten by their husbands. The same is true among the peasant women of Hungary, who do not think that they are loved by their husbands until they have been boxed on the ear. And it is said that among certain strata of Italians the women think their husbands fools if they neglect beating them.

In America, marriages founded on love are regarded as being of the highest type. Love marriages are not so regarded in the aristocratic circles of Europe. The Crow Indians even prefer to buy their wives. Love marriages to these Indians seem too much like the mating of animals. They do not wish to mate like dogs.

We expect girls to be virgins when they marry. This is regarded by the Wadigo as ridiculous if not disgraceful. Chastity among girls is valued as lightly among the Bororo of Brazil. Among these people girls are betrothed while very young, and are later sent to live in bachelor apartments with some young man until her fiancé is ready to marry.

Similarly, we expect wives to be chaste, yet among many people it is the part of hospitality to allow the visitor to sleep with the wife. Among us, wives resent unfaithfulness in their husbands, but the Japanese women without the least show of jealousy keep company with their husbands and courtesans, and later without the least show of jealousy leave their husbands to spend the night with the courtesans.

Among some peoples the wife is punished for adultery. Among others it is the seducer who is punished. While among yet others both are punished.]

We think a man should have only one wife, and are all the more convinced that a woman should have only one husband. Yet both polygamy and polyandry flourish in various parts of the world.

We look with disapproval on the marriages of cousins. The Blackfoot do not tolerate marriage within the group at all. On the other hand, among the natives of West Australia the marriage of cousins is prescribed.

It is the usual custom to marry within one's class, yet in the rigidly caste society of the Natchez Indians a member of the Sun, or highest caste, is compelled to marry a Stinkard, or member of the lowest caste. But so hard and fast are the caste regulations in other respects that the caste distinctions are maintained between husband and wife, violation of which means death to the offending party.

For bachelors to live with paramours is considered highly immoral by us, and provision is made in many savage tribes to keep the unmarried men and women apart. But among the Masi suitable quarters are provided for the unmarried men and women, who live together until ready to marry.

Shakespeare held that marriage turned the night into the best part of day. The Bank Islanders feel so differently about it that men neither eat nor sleep with their wives. Among other tribes men sleep with their wives during the winter months only.

The relations of parent to child reveal the same great diversity.

We take it for granted that parents will take care of their children and provide for them as many advantages as possible. Yet even in this country we find it necessary to have laws compelling parents to send their children to school and laws against child labor and infanticide.

We also take it for granted that children will respect their parents. This is demanded to a much greater extent by the Chinese and Japanese parents. But, on the other hand, among various Mexican tribes children are permitted to strike their parents, to insult them with abusive language, and to disobey at their pleasure.

When parents are old we expect the children to take care of them. But among the North American Indians and the Hottentots about one-half of them were left to die of exposure. It is quite possible that aged parents a few centuries ago were not treated with the same consideration among us which they now receive. This may be inferred from the old legend regarding the "holy Mawle," or of a club placed behind the church doors in various parts of England and Scot-land with which a son might kill his father when he became of no more use.

We can think of no way more horrible to show love and respect for parents than to eat them or to bury them alive. Yet strange as it may seem, the old among the Botocudos at their urgent requests are killed and eaten by their tribe; and the old among the Fijians insist as earnestly that they be buried alive.

What a contrast these prayers of the old among the Botocudos and Fijians are to the tenacity with which the old among us cling to life, even though it means but a few more days of suffering to themselves and care to their friends !

To eat dead children or friends out of love seems to us a horrible practice. Yet this is the motive which underlies cannibalism in a number of tribes.

We think it highly important that a father should know his children, and that the relationship of father to child should be one founded on biological relationship. Yet among the Toda fatherhood is determined by a purely conventional rite.

And in some societies in which there is no knowledge of the connection between sexual intercourse and reproduction, kinship is none the less reckoned through the males fatherhood being determined by conventional rites or by adoption.

Children with us do not seem so valuable; for it is commonly regarded as a burden for a man to take care of a child that is not his own.

A variety of relationships and attitudes as great as this within an organization or institution that presents as few possibilities for variation as the family suggests that the behavior of man within the family is the product of a number of chance factors, which have brought out all the responses of which his original nature is capable, rather than that his behavior has been determined by a factor common to the wide range of variation. Certainly this variety cannot be taken as indicating that there is any great value in regarding the behavior of man within the family as rooted in his original nature; for to do so would make necessary the positing of "roots" of such contradictory natures as would make possible: The care of parents; the desertion of parents. High valuation placed on virginity and chastity; no valuation placed on it. Tenacious struggle to prolong life; desire to leave it before decay sets in, and so on. In other words, the variety seems to indicate that the possibilities for varied response inherent in the situation are exhausted, and that original nature acts in all the ways that are possible for it to act, rather than as showing any decided preference for a definite expression.

To root this great diversity in original nature is to load it with a mass of contradictory tendencies and impulses, without greatly aiding us in getting an understanding of the behavior. For after we have so "rooted" them, we are left in complete darkness regarding the conditions which brought about the expression of one tendency or impulse rather than its opposite. This knowledge can be obtained only through a knowledge of the cultural situation in which the behavior occurs, that is, through a knowledge of the factors that affect the "capacities" rather than through a knowledge of the "capacities" themselves. Whatever a man does we may be sure that he has the capacity to do. This, however, is seen to be quite unilluminating in the effort to understand man's domestic relations.

It should be pointed out that in all this variety and diversity there can be discerned at least three common characteristics: (I) The need of companionship, (2) sex life, and (3) care of children. These characteristics may very well be regarded as rooted in original nature, for, as I have pointed out, the survival of the race is dependent on some care shown children, and it is reasonable to suppose that with the necessity there should go the tendency and disposition to take care of them. The same may be said regarding the necessity of sex life. When two necessary conditions of survival draw the sexes together, we may with a good deal of assurance expect that with this necessity there should go a disposition to crave the companionship of each other. Otherwise the race would inevitably disappear. Hence, the pleasure the sexes find in each other's company.

While we may, therefore; root with assurance these characters in human nature, yet the inadequacy of these characters to account for the family as we have it is seen in the wide diversity in the family organization, and in the fact that while these characters are possessed by other gregarious animals, the family life of these animals is in many respects quite different from our own. But confining our attention to the human race. It is only by abstracting all differences found in the behavior of man that we reach certain common characteristics, which may be rooted in original nature. It is not, however, common characteristics robbed of all that makes them real and concrete that we deal with in behavior. It is always behavior of a certain kind, a certain kind of companionship, a definite regard for children, and so on, that we observe. When behavior is viewed in its concreteness, or as it occurs, the diversity assumes such proportions that we begin to entertain doubts regarding the existence of common characteristics that are supposed to largely determine and shape the behavior. We then recognize that the determinants of the behavior which interest us are many and variable.

Thus the family, while answering the need of companionship, cannot be regarded as determined by this need, as is seen in the fact that it is only in recent times, and in certain countries, that there has existed the degree of intimate companionship between husband and wife we observe to-day. So true is this that even to-day in some societies it is a disgrace for a man to eat with his wife. Nor do husband and wife among these people occupy the same quarters. The need of companionship is satisfied by other means.

The same may be said regarding the sex impulse or need. The family, though administering to this need, cannot be regarded as the result of sex need. It may as well be regarded as due to restrictions placed on sex life; for the satisfaction of sex needs does not necessitate a family organization. Nor can this need when combined with jealousy account for the family, for among many people there seems to be a complete lack of jealousy in both husbands and wives. This latter fact would seem to throw doubt on the existence of jealousy as an innate character in human nature. In another connection it may be found that the satisfaction of the sex impulse takes so many forms, which bear such a striking correlation to the variable factors in the career of the individual, that we may be led to regard this impulse itself as due to the psychological development of the individual rather than as an innate character that unfolds itself regardless of the individual's experience.

The foregoing criticism applies to the variations in the care of children. It is true that the mother's care of her child may be regarded as determined by original nature. No doubt nature provides a mother with a love for her child as surely as it provides her with the organic changes that make the care of the infant possible. That these provisions of nature are inadequate to account for the care taken of children, how-ever, is seen in the fact that infanticide is no rare occurrence; while within the family the treatment ac-corded children varies so greatly that it is unprofitable to regard the behavior as determined by any one factor.

In this there is a striking contrast with the uniformity of the treatment accorded by other animals to their young. This is what we should expect, for man is not only influenced by his own experience, as are other animals, but perhaps even more profoundly by the experience of others. In other words, his behavior is largely determined by impressions from the group and varies with the ideals and knowledge of the group. The variation that is thus brought about in the care shown by the human mother to her young is dearly seen in the foregoing account of the various attitudes of parents toward their children. For example, one mother out of love for her dead child eats it. Yet there can be no doubt but that she with the same cultural setting that we have would look with horror upon such a practice.

Both attitudes, then, may equally well be regarded as rooted in original nature. But with the rooting of such contradictory feelings in original nature, we be-gin to lose interest in what is rooted. What we wish to know is what is actualized.

No one can deny that in a sense all the variations in social practices and behavior are rooted in original nature, for if original nature did not have the capacity to be affected so as to give rise to the observed behavior, the behavior could not exist. But to root in original nature the tendency to care for aged parents, to abandon them, to bury them alive, to eat them is certainly not illuminating. The same may be said regarding the solicitude of the male in some societies to know that he is the father of the child he protects and the indifference regarding this in others; and the tenacity with which the old in some societies cling to life, and the desire to abandon it in others. Variations or diversity of this sort exhaust the possibility for varied response. Certainly they cannot be regarded as deter-mined to any marked degree a factor common to all. As far as the common factor of original nature is concerned, it throws as much light on one mode of behavior as on another, since all must be rooted in it.

This diversity, however, may be regarded as due to innate differences in original nature. If this were assumed, it would be no longer necessary to root all this diversity in the same original nature. Thus the original nature of each tribe or race would become much more definite, and consequently should throw greater light on the forces or factors underlying each social practice or custom.

This is a popular method of explaining differences in culture. This is the method that accounts for culture in terms of race. Westermarck, who cites many of the facts which I have mentioned to show the diversity in the family, bases his interpretation of the differences between the moral ideas of the various peoples on this assumption.

According to Westermarck, the moral ideas and judgments are based on the emotions. He takes this view because our feelings determine whether we judge an act moral or immoral. He is keenly aware that the moral judgments show great variation. To account for this he postulates innate differences in the emotions, which are the bases of the feelings. Thus he writes:

"While certain phenomena will almost of necessity arouse similar moral emotions in every mind which perceives them clearly, there are others with which the case is different. The emotional constitution does not present the same uniformity as the human intellect." In support of this thesis he points to differences in bravery and sympathy that seem to be innate.

The emphasis that he puts on custom as the determiner of the moral and the immoral he realizes is liable to cause the reader to regard custom as the basis of the moral and immoral rather than the emotions. In order that there be no mistake regarding his position he writes as follows: "It will be argued that by deriving the characteristics of moral indignation from its connection with custom we implicitly contradict our initial assumption that moral emotions lie at the bottom of all moral judgments. But it is not so. Custom is a moral rule only on account of the indignation called forth by its transgression. In the ethical aspect it is nothing but a generalization of the emotional tendencies, applied to certain modes of conduct and transmitted from generation to generation. Public indignation lies at the bottom of it. In its capacity of a rule of duty, custom, mos, is derived from the emotion to which it gave its name."

Here it is pointed out that the violation arouses moral indignation. This, however, is explained as due to the fact that custom is the result of the emotions aroused by certain activities. In other words, it is held that customs are moral guides and arouse the moral emotions because the activities connected with them arouse the emotions. It could thus be held that the variety of customs reflect innate differences between the various races.

If, however, the various customs and moral ideas are the reflections of innate differences, then the moral ideas of each race should show great uniformity, and changes in the moral ideas of a race should be accompanied by changes in the innate characters of the race. It should, therefore, follow that the moral evolution of the last one thousand years in Europe should be accompanied by corresponding changes in the innate characters of the peoples concerned. There are not lacking defenders of this position. It finds an elaborate defense in the writings of Sutherland.

According to Sutherland, the increase in conjugal sympathy, the increase in kindness, the growing respect for law and order are the results of biological modifications.

"I had also written a chapter describing the mitigation of criminal treatment, showing how radically different must have been the nervous organization of the crowds of former days, who gathered in eager zeal to watch the torture of men and women, from that of the cultured lady or gentleman of our own time, who would shrink with horror from the thought of witnessing a scene so agonizing, and would give a fortune rather than be compelled to take any part in what our ancestors undoubtedly enjoyed."

"It is, I am convinced, an actual systemic change which has been the cause of the great development of sympathy in the past. A man fairly typical of the modern standard of sympathy would rather have a hand cut off than that any person should be killed by his fault. One of our ancestors a thousand years ago would without compunction have slaughtered thirty persons to save his hand. . . . The Roman emperor, Valentinian, had two bears whose cage was always kept near his bedroom, so that without trouble he could daily see them devour the limbs of men who had just been executed, thus losing before his meals nothing of an appetizing spectacle. Can we conceive that a modern emperor of Germany would feel anything but deep loathing and disgust in such a scene? Yet fully half the Roman emperors found more or less pleasure in the sight of mutilation and death. So greatly has the nerve susceptibility of the race been altered in the interval."

Sutherland is convinced that this evolution will continue and that five hundred years more of progress at the present rate will see all marital problems solved. "The time will doubtless come," he says, "when it will be held a monstrous thing to keep in chains of bondage those who have ceased to love or respect each other, to compel to the daily contact of common housekeeping those who have come to despise each other. Then it will be open to such couples to separate as freely as they united; but when that time comes, scarce a couple will wish to separate; for if the world can only continue for five centuries more that progress in conjugal sympathy which has characterized the last two centuries, marriage will naturally be indissoluble."

A similar interpretation of variations in social behavior is offered by Veblen in his Theory of the Leisure Class. Veblen's concern is to give a biological interpretation of the fact that some men work and some do not.

According to Veblen, at the dawn of human society all men worked on account of the scarcity of wealth. With improved methods of production a surplus of wealth was acquired. This made it possible for some men to survive who did not work. Since life possesses a tendency to realize all possibilities, there came into existence a type of man in whom the predatory instinct usurped the place of the instinct of workmanship. Men of the predatory or emulative type, in whom the instinct of pugnacity is strong, compose the leisure class. Men in whom the instinct of workmanship retains its strength belong to the laboring classes.

It is because of this biological difference between men of the leisure class and men of the laboring class that the former take so much delight in games of chance and sports of all kinds, while the latter seem to care little for such diversions. Veblen does not fail to take into account the fact that occasionally men of the leisure class show a desire to work and to bear their part of the social burden. Such behavior as this he interprets as a case of sporadic reversion to the more primitive type. As the position of the lei-sure class becomes more and more secure, the pugnacious instinct will become less and less valuable, and we may, therefore, expect the frequency of the above reversions to increase. It is for this reason that such reversions occur more frequently in women than in men of the leisure class.

The extravagancies of Veblen are equalled, if not excelled, by Trotter's interpretation of the differences between the English and Germans.

In spite of the close kinship of the English to the Germans, and of the excellent account of the observed differences between the English and Germans in terms of social causes, Trotter feels that the differences must be really a result of biological differences. In fact, he tells us that it is only by regarding the differences in this way that he is able to understand the inability of the English to understand the Germans. He accordingly reaches the conclusion that there are innate differences between these peoples, in terms of which he can account for the difference between their songs, their methods of attack, and their discipline.

He is evidently afraid that no one will take him seriously. He, therefore, warns us that he is: "When I compare German society with the wolf pack, and the feelings, desires, and impulses of the individual German with those of the wolf or dog, I am not intending to use a vague analogy, but to call attention to a real and gross identity. . . . The psychical necessity that makes the wolf brave in mass attack is the same that makes the German brave in mass attack; the psychical necessity that makes the dog submit to the whip of his master and profit by it makes the German soldier submit to the whip of his officer and profit by it. The instinctive process which makes the dog among his fellows irritable, suspicious, ceremonious, sensitive about his honor, and immediately ready to fight for it is identical with the German and produces identical effects."

Trotter seems to have returned from "the bracing atmosphere of the biological sciences" with the discovery of a new species, embracing wolves, dogs, and Germans. Such extravagancies may well be dismissed as due to the intoxicating effects of an overdose of patriotism. The adherents of race interpretation of culture are unfortunate in having champions who reduce their position to an absurdity. We shall have no more to say regarding them.

The more modest claims of champions of the view that differences in moral ideas, sentiments, customs, and institutions are due to innate differences are also difficult to maintain. If differences in moral ideas are founded on differences in the emotions, regarded as innate characters, to what are we to attribute the change in moral ideas following changes in environment? The high correlation between the customs of a community and the moral judgments of the individual invites us to regard the moral ideas as contributions of society. We are strongly inclined to accept this invitation when we observe the radical changes in one's character following new contacts and changes in social position; for so great are the changes induced in this way that we hardly exaggerate this influence. in saying that the constancy of character itself is dependent upon a constancy in the environmental conditions affecting the individual.

There is no need to suppose, then, that the moral evolution of the past two thousand years has been accompanied by or caused by corresponding changes in the innate characters of the race. Indeed, we should have no hesitancy in saying that if the conditions under which we live were reversed with the conditions under which people lived two thousand years ago, our moral ideas would be identical with those of people who lived two thousand years ago. If this be denied, the person making the denial is confronted with the difficulty of explaining the sudden change in attitude of the Fijian of to-day and the Fijian of seventy years ago regarding cannibalism. Sutherland himself might well hesitate to hold that this change has been brought about by a change in the innate characters of the race.

In the absence of proof of such changes in original nature during the past few thousand years, to say the least, and with the weight of opinion of biologists and anthropologists against such an assumption, we should look for the causes of the evolution of the moral ideas and of culture in other factors. These factors are not hard to find. The growth of culture, like the growth of invention, is cumulative. One bit of culture acts as a new stimulus to man, and thus brings about new growth. In an isolated group we should expect some slight changes in its culture. But in a group that has wide and intensive contacts with many other peoples the process is greatly accelerated. It also gathers momentum from improved methods of intercommunication within the group and by rendering available new sources of wealth.

It is in terms of this sort that we are to account for the spectacular advance in Western Civilization, and the even more spectacular advance in the civilization of Japan. These changes were not due to innate modifications of the peoples concerned. They took place as the result of new conditions introducted into the environment, by increased knowledge, by contacts with other cultures, by making available new resources, and by greater degree of intercommunication within the group.

It is for this reason that we find backward communities within all racial groups. Communities of this sort are not necessarily composed of a degenerate stock. Their lack of progress and artistic and creative fruitfulness may be due to lack of contacts; for as contact of mind with mind makes for mental development, so contact of culture with culture makes for cultural development. It is in light of this principle that we understand what brought about the Renaissance. It is the same principle that enables us to ac-count for the backwardness of isolated groups.* Thus we see that even when we restrict original nature to the original nature of a single race or tribe, little light is thrown by it on the culture of the people. Customs and institutions change, but original nature remains the same. A knowledge, therefore, of original nature can tell us very little regarding the culture of a people. If this is true, then we cannot hope to explain cultural phenomena in terms of the innate characters of a group no matter how restricted we make the group or the cultural phenomena.

The above truth can be made all the more apparent through a consideration of the fact that when we know the institution, we cannot tell the psychological principles, or innate characters, that are supposed to underlie it. This may be clearly illustrated through a consideration of the various interpretations of the origin of religion.

According to Spencer and Tylor, primitive man in his efforts to understand his dreams, faintings, and apoplexies regarded himself as having a "double." If a person dreamed that he was in a far country, he accounted for the phenomenon as due to the fact that his "double" had taken a journey while he was asleep. The same sort of explanation was given for fainting spells, coma, and even death. In each case his "double" had left him. In death the "double" took permanent leave of him, and became a spirit who helped or injured the living. The power attributed to these spirits constantly increased until they were finally regarded as the rulers not only of men but of the powers of nature also.

Opposed to this animistic interpretation of the origin of religious concepts, or belief in spirits, is the naturistic interpretation. This view is championed by Max Müller. According to this view, it is nature that arouses in man the feelings of wonder and sublimity through its changes and the greatness of its power and forces. Nature is full of surprises for primitive man, and its changes must arouse within him feelings of fear, wonder, and even admiration, for it is only through reducing natural phenomena to general laws that nature has come to assume the air of uniformity commonly ascribed to it. For instance, the spontaneous generation of fire as the result of the friction of branches, or as the result of lightning, has an air of mystery. So has the ease of its extinction. Coming in such a mysterious way, disappearing so easily, and yet withal so useful to man, it is well calculated to arouse in him feelings of wonder and awe. The same is true of the other works of nature. Its vastness arouses the feelings of infinitude. The grandeur of the mountains overwhelms him, and the beauty of the heavens impresses upon him the emotion of the sublime. But nature has for him another side. Its mighty rivers and destructive tornadoes are terrors which cause him to feel insignificant and helpless the puppet of a mighty power.

The forces of nature, however, must become personalized before they can become the object of cult. This is brought about as the inevitable consequence of the crudities of language. When it thunders, it is some-thing that thunders. This is soon converted in the absence of nicety of expression and scientific knowledge into some one that thunders. When the transition from the impersonal to the personal has taken place, there is provided all that is necessary as the basis of religion. Concepts thus acquired are later extended to the spirits of ancestors who are deified. But it must be remembered that before the deification of ancestors can take place, the concept of deity is necessary. This concept arose, according to Müller, in the above manner.

Durkheim, in his Elementary Forms of the Religious Life,t gives an excellent statement of the above theories, only to reject them. After directing against them a destructive criticism, he advances his own theory of the origin of belief in spirits. His theory may well be regarded as a social interpretation of the religious concepts.

According to Spencer and Miller, the sacred results from a belief in spirits. According to Durkheim, the reverse is true. Spirits result from the sacred. The sacred itself results from the difference between the individual alone and the individual inspired and ennobled by contact with his fellows. The concept of the sacred is born of the intensification of life that results from contacts with one's fellows. Society, the collective force of the group, exists in each individual, and as a result the individual feels a power or force greater and more noble than those that he holds to be purely his own, helping him to do noble and praise-worthy acts. To this power he attaches a veneration. and reverence that distinguish it from the profane. How else is he to regard it save as of spiritual nature. Concepts having thus been brought to light, it is a mere matter of chance association what objects will be regarded as sacred, or as the source of the superior power. Religion in this way is thus founded on a reality, and its permanence and influence are thus accounted for.

We have here three theories of the origin of religion.t Which one is correct, or whether all are correct, we cannot tell from a knowledge of original nature. As far as original nature is concerned, religion may have originated through either one of these processes. It is true that in speculations of this nature, psychological principles are valuable in ruling out improbable hypotheses. But in this case the interpretations cannot be rejected through psychological considerations. To understand the origin of religion, therefore, it is necessary to know the facts, or the factors, that brought to light the religious emotions in man. This is a matter of history, and not of psychology; for whatever the findings may be, psychology will be under equal obligation to reconcile with them its principles.

The practice of cannibalism affords another illustration of cultural phenomena which cannot be accounted for in terms of psychological principles. In virtue of what psychological principle did the practice of cannibalism originate? Or how shall we root it in original nature? Shall we regard it as a result of hunger? Or is it the result of belief in magic? Or is it the result of hatred? Or of love? Here again knowledge of original nature fails to indicate from what root it sprang. It may be practised for any of the above reasons, and has been. The facts alone can tell what are the determining causes in each case. Obviously, there can be little value in rooting it in original nature. Here again the determining causes must be discovered in the factors that affect human nature rather than in original nature itself.

The same is true regarding practically all customs and taboos. The custom may be the same in separate instances, and yet the reasons for it may be quite different. Thus it may be observed that two tribes have a taboo against basket-making. But one cannot infer from this that the taboo is the result of the same psychological principles. In one case it may be due to the fact that lightning killed a man who undertook to make baskets. This event was taken as evidence of the disapproval of the spirits. Hence the taboo. In an-other tribe the taboo may have arisen because the art of basket-making was practised by a neighboring tribe that was regarded as inferior. To make baskets would therefore be a blow to the tribe's self-esteem. Hence the taboo.

If original nature is able to throw light on cultural phenomena, it should be able to throw considerable light on the division of labor between the sexes, for the marked physiological differences between the sexes should provide a clear cut principle for such division of labor. Yet, according to Lowie, "this division is largely conventional, i. e., in no way connected with the physiological characteristics of the sexes, as may often be proved by contrasting the regulations of different and even neighboring tribes. Thus the Southern Bantu rigorously exclude women from their herds, while the Hottentot women regularly milk the cows."

"Each people has its traditional conceptions of masculine and feminine employment.... A polygamous Thonga becomes a parasite supported by his gardener wives; a Kirgiz wife performs the household tasks, while her husband not only tends the herds but also supplies the fire wood, tills the soil, and manufactures all household vessels the Toda woman has hardly any duties besides pounding and sifting grain, cleaning the hut, and decorating clothing."

Illustrations of this point need not be limited to remote and isolated peoples: the peasant women of Europe are accustomed to work for which we employ only men. Even when we confine our observation to a single community we find that the work the women do depends largely on the economic well-being of their husbands. Some women whose husbands are poor work long hours at almost anything; while others whose husbands are well off spend a large part of their time in idleness. Yet we know, Veblen to the contrary, that the activities of practically all these women could have been reversed if they had married different men.

In spite of the many difficulties and inadequacies of psychological, or rather biological, interpretations of social behavior and cultural phenomena, the attempt to apply them is often made. In fact, some writers seem to feel that, however satisfactory their account may be in terms of social factors, they must give a biological account of social behavior.

Thus, for example, if one is discussing the rise and fall in constructive and commercial enterprises, the explanation must be set in biological terms. A good illustration of this is found in an article by G. R. Davis in The American Journal of Sociology of 1920.

According to Davis, every conspicuous advance in civilization is a consequence of "instinctive energies thrown into new channels by increasing mentality. Just what, in the primary sense, is responsible for the awakening powers is a baffling problem." * In the same way he accounts for the cessation of the constructive activities. It does not serve his purpose to regard as sufficient an-explanation in terms of natural obstacles, scarcity of resources, and barriers to further trade contacts. The real cause is the depression of the constructive instinct. The factors just referred to only served to bring about the depression of the instinct; as a consequence of this depression constructive activities decrease. Certainly an heroic attempt is here made to employ psychology in the interpretation of social behavior. Yet it is extremely doubtful if additional light is thrown on the situation by saying that certain factors depressed the instinct for construction, and that this in turn depressed constructive activities; for the factors that brought about the change are what interest us. We are willing to neglect the nexus between the two variables which seem to stand in relation of cause to effect.

Perhaps, however, the instinct of construction means more to Davis than a nexus to connect stimulus and response. Perhaps he feels a necessity similar to that felt by Veblen, viz.: If men work, it must be in virtue of an instinct to work. If men engage in constructive enterprises, it must be due to a corresponding instinct. Yet why should- these writers feel that activities require corresponding instincts?

Is work the result of an instinct? That work is the result of conditions under which one lives seems to be recognized by Veblen himself in accounting for the universality of work at the dawn of human society. Change the conditions and one's attitude toward work undergoes a profound change. And instinct that is thus dependent for its expression on environmental conditions might well surrender its role as a motivator of activity; for the real motivator seems to be the total situation. That there is no need for an instinct of this sort becomes apparent through the consideration that work is always for the purpose of realizing some desire.

We work, not because we have an instinct to work, but because we live in a world that makes it necessary that we have purposes and make provision for the future. Place man in a world in which all his future wants are provided for, there would be little work. We work because we live in a world in which work is necessary. The attractiveness of the Garden of Eden lies to a great extent in the fact that there men lived in a world in which work was unnecessary. Men in such a world would not work if the habits of those living in the tropics may be taken as sufficient evidence of what men in general would do in a world freed of the necessity of work. In the tropics little work is necessary and little work is done.

There is no necessity of confining our illustrations to remote tribes. Great numbers of men in our own communities, provided with ample means, do no work. This class of men is not confined to the wealthy. Men of moderate means prefer to live on a small income rather than work for a larger one. Even laborers show this disposition. It is a common complaint in the South that high wages for cotton-picking makes it difficult to get the cotton picked, as this only affords the pickers a living for less work, and consequently they do less work. On the other hand, we have all observed many men of wealth hard at work. Are we to follow Veblen in regarding these men as cases of sporadic reversion to the primitive instinct? They can be much better accounted for in terms of the ideals and purposes that have been impressed on these individuals than in terms of a biological difference between them and other men of wealth.

We may safely assume then that men work, not be-cause of an innate urge to work, but because of necessity and of the ideals impressed on them. The necessities of men differ. What is a necessity to one man is gladly dispensed with by another, if he can save him-self from working. On the other hand, men who have no need to work and yet do work are animated by high and big purposes. They are ambitious to become great. It is for this reason that we find men in all classes hard at work. But work in no case should be regarded as due to an innate urge to work. When it is not due to necessity it is due rather to the dynamic character of purposes, ideals, and ambitions which have arisen in the individual as a result of his contacts and training.

In denying that work is due to an innate urge to work and insisting that we work because we live in a world which makes work necessary, I do not wish to convey the impression that work is unpleasant. Much work is decidedly pleasant. It may be rendered so by the fact that the activity itself is pleasant, but more often, by the fact that we enjoy realizing our idéals and giving an expression to purposes we have long entertained.

It is thus with the boy, full of energy as he is. When he runs eagerly on some errand, it is not because he is thus afforded a release to his instinct of work. It is more often due to his anticipation of some gift, or the desire to win the approval and praise of his parent, or perhaps, in some instances, to please his parent. In the same way, when the adult works, it is not because of the instinct to work. It is in order to achieve certain ends and to be true to his ideals and values. To work under such conditions is pleasurable. To be prevented from working, and thus prevented from the realization of one's ends and ideals, is decidedly unpleasant. For these reasons pleasure is experienced in working, and pain in being prevented from working.

In order to account for social behavior, or cultural phenomena, in terms of biological or innate characters, it is necessary that the innate character be found wherever the cultural phenomena are. It is also necessary, if this explanation is to be of any value, that wherever there are found cultural differences a corresponding difference in the innate characters of the people be discovered. Veblen recognizes the obviousness of this logic. Wherever men work there is the instinct of workmanship. Wherever men fail to work the instinct of workmanship is weak, and in its place there are predatory instincts.

But in spite of the obviousness of this logic it is not always followed. For example, McDougall attempts to explain the warlike preparations of Europe as due to the instinct of pugnacity, thus accounting for a cultural development, confined, certainly in its most aggravated form, to one group, in terms of an instinct that is supposed to be common to all groups of men. "In our own age," says McDougall, "the same instinct (i. e., pugnacity) makes Europe an armed camp of twelve million soldiers."

Evidently in giving this explanation he forgot the negative cases of America, China, and other unprepared peoples, or else he abandoned his conception of instinct as an innate urge or tendency common to all members of a species. The negative cases referred to, and the fact that instincts are supposed to be common to the species, should have shown him the worthlessness of such an explanation, while the degree of America's pugnacity when she was once aroused, after her long calm, suggests that this phenomenon should be regarded as due to a force generated by changed conditions instead of to the release of an innate force or instinct.

It must be admitted, of course, that unless America and Europe were capable of warlike activities they would never indulge in these activities. But, on the other hand, we know that the capacity is actualized only under certain conditions. It remains dormant under others. Consequently, war cannot be interpreted in terms of a capacity which exists at all times whether there be war or peace. The capacity is merely a necessary condition. An adequate interpretation of war must be in terms of the variables, which determine whether the capacity shall be actualized or remain dormant. The capacity or the instinct of pugnacity cannot serve as an explanation, since it as a constant cannot be used to explain variables.

In fairness to McDougall, however, it must be pointed out that he would hardly maintain, as I have heard a professor at Teachers College do, that the instinct of pugnacity is aroused and that we then go out to look for some one to fight. He could quite readily admit that the causes which lead to war are social. That is to say, owing to certain social developments we find ourselves in an unbearable situation. A readjustment becomes necessary. But then the question arises: Why under these conditions do we go to war? Why not resort to arbitration? Or to debates as the Scholastics did? Or to a game of chance? These are possible methods of affecting a readjustment. The reason for pushing them aside is because we are pugnacious.

This argument, however, falls beneath its own weight. As is pointed out, there are other methods of settling difficulties than by war. But war is only one of the forms the instinct of pugnacity may take, as is seen in the number of civil cases, the keenness of business competition, rivalry in sports, and in the debates of the Scholastics referred to. Also there is in man, ac-cording to Veblen, a strong instinct of workmanship, and according to Trotter a strong instinct of gregariousness. Also it is apparent that man takes great de-light in games of chance. Why are the instincts of workmanship and gregariousness and the delight in games of chance pushed aside in order that the instinct of pugnacity may be indulged? And why does pugnacity take the form of war rather than some other?

Man is capable of all these responses and he indulges in first one and then the other. But we can never hope to explain why a particular one is indulged in terms of the capacities themselves. For the deter-miners we must look outside of original nature itself to the variable factors, which determine whether the capacities shall remain dormant or be actualized.

McDougall offers an explanation of the recent growth of cities quite similar to his explanation of the warlike preparations in Europe. The cities have grown be-cause people on account of their strong gregarious instinct have been drawn into crowded centres. If the question should be asked why did not this instinct affect the growth of cities in the past in the same degree, McDougall would reply: On account of custom, people had grown accustomed to living in rural communities, but now with certain changed conditions the old instinct has been able to assert itself, and as a con-sequence people are flocking to the cities.

This assertion of instinct is not regarded as due to a new force created in man on account of economic changes and new contacts. These latter factors have served only to break down custom, which had held in bondage the gregarious instinct: "Custom, the great controller of individual impulses, being weakened, the deep-seated instincts, especially the gregarious instinct, have found the opportunity to determine the choice of men."

It is this conception of desires and impulses as innate forces in the organism that social writers have in mind when they warn us against the inversion and thwarting of our instincts. It is this that is in mind when social evils are regarded as due to the repression of instinct, and when the natural expression of instinct is regarded as the panacea of all evils.

Yet why should desires and impulses be regarded as pent-up forces in man under all conditions? This conception Jung quite aptly compares to the conception of luminosity existing in the iron because when it is heated sufficiently it will glow. Such a view of our motives and impulses would seem to imply that we are unaffected by the environment in which we live, other than as an opportunity is given, now for the satisfaction of one desire and now for another. In-stead of regarding our desires and impulses in this static way, we should hold that our desires are born of definite situations, and that with changes in our environment there come into existence a world of new desires and impulses, which begin to show their influence in social and cultural phenomena.

That the conception of desires and impulses existing as innate forces longing for a particular mode of expression is without value in explanations of institutions and customs should be apparent from a consideration of the great diversity in institutions and customs, and the variety of likes and dislikes relative to the same object. It is for this reason that institutions and customs cannot be regarded as expressions of innate or pent-up forces inherited from generation to generation. Indeed, the forces that we experience in behavior are more largely due to our institutions and customs than the reverse.

As for the origin of our customs and institutions, we are in the dark. We can no more explain their origin than the biologist can explain the origin of life, What we know is that we have institutions and customs which exert a profound influence on us, and that their changes follow upon new conditions introduced into their setting. It is useless to attempt to account for these changes in terms of an unknown entity that re-mains a constant in all culture. To do so is a strange reversal of method; for it consists largely in abandoning the known and variable factors as explanations for a factor that is not only a constant but which is only known as a sort of nexus between one known and another known. A nexus of this sort is quite unnecessary, and throws no great light on cultural phenomena. Indeed, such a force is detrimental to the study of social phenomena, for either it is rendered unnecessary by the adequacy of the explanation in terms of social causes, or if these causes are not adequate to account for the phenomenon the use of this force invites us to abandon further investigation by regarding the phenomenon as due to the operation of a hidden entity.

In the study of culture and social behavior the most that can be assigned to instincts or to original nature is to regard original nature as endowing man with various capacities to be affected, and, above all, the capacity to be profoundly influenced by the environment in which he is placed. If original nature is as-signed this rôle, the variety of social practices can be understood without difficulty. This variety, however, presents numerous difficulties if we regard the social behavior of man as rooted in or determined by his sup-ply of innate instincts or impulses.

This conception of instincts is a relic of the discarded Faculty Psychology, which split the mind into various faculties in terms of which the activities of the individual were explained. The will, for instance, was sup-posed to exist independently of the intellect. Now we know that the mind is a unit in this respect. Our knowledge and our will are both largely products of our experience. Given a certain mass of experience and a certain setting, the individual will make certain cognitions, and at the time of making these cognitions will have certain impulses, or a will of a certain sort. Neither his cognition nor his impulse can be explained by reference to his original nature, for if his past experience had been different, or if the needs and interest of the moment had been different, both his cognition and impulse would have been different.

Thus the peasant women of Europe wish to be scolded, slapped, and beaten. How different are the women in America or in higher European circles ! Thus our old cling to life with terrible desperation, while the Fijian desires to be buried alive before his manhood is impaired ! The roots of original nature throw little light on such diversity. Biology, or the psychology built of biology, can tell us little regarding cultural developments of this sort. The inadequacy of explanations in these terms has been clearly pointed out by Lowie:

"All that psychologists tell us of ethical feelings and the will leaves the problem before us untouched. Why this particular curious feeling developed, what place it occupies in mental life, the psychologist fails to explain. We get simply general formulae about feeling and will that are equally applicable to the case of the man's beating his wife, or to a boy's resisting the temptations of a lollypop. . . . Psychology, then, fails throughout to supply us with the interpretation we want. It is as impotent to reduce to really interpretative psychological principles the subjective aspect of cultural phenomena as it is to explain the historical sequence of events."

The justness of this criticism becomes apparent when we recall that the same objective behavior, such as, for example, cannibalism, religion, or the various taboos, may be due to diverse psychological principles. On the other hand, when we know the psychological attitude and the feelings underlying the treatment accorded a person, we have no way of knowing that the treatment will be the same. Thus, for example, the love for parents may be expressed by the tender care shown them, or by eating them, or by burying them alive.

Or the love of one parent may cause him to demand from his child exact obedience, or to imprison him in a temple; while love of another may cause him to grant every whim of the child.

In the face of the profound influence of environmental conditions on the behavior of the individual, it would not have occurred to students to attempt to ex-plain the diversity of social behavior and of culture in terms of innate characters had it not been for the conception of instincts as creators of psychic tension, and as entities that are either being expressed in our institutions or being thwarted by them, as can be seen in the fact that this is the assumption that is common to all the writers whom I have criticised. Indeed, it is around this assumption that the social philosophy of instinct has been built.

Enough has been said to make it apparent that this philosophy has its roots deep in the psychology founded on the theory of evolution. This philosophy rests on the assumption that the individual, as a result of phylogeny, brings with him into this world a mass of tendencies and ancestral memories which must leave their mark on the individual and influence in some way his behavior. It finds its basis in the treatment of instincts as creators of tension, or as innate forces, which crave for natural expression. It finds its basis in certain- vitalistic conceptions which regard the development and behavior of the individual as watched over by a Vital Principle, which has in mind a definite end, that must be realized if the individual is to be spared the feeling of being thwarted from the realization of his own preordained end or maximum development. It rests on the assumption that the individual is a self sufficient being, who needs only to be freed from all restrictions and repressions in order to realize his greatest and highest development.