Chapter 2 CONSCIOUS DETERMINATION

Conscious determination, or, effort induced by conscious volition, is the basic mental operation upon which is reared that complex psychical structure which is to be found in the higher animals, and especially in man-the highest product of evolutionary development.

By conscious volition is not meant that consciousness which appertains to the child of two or three years, who, at that age, recognizes the ego. Ego-knowledge, while undoubtedly present in some of the higher animals, such as the dog, monkey, horse, cat, etc., is not a factor in the psychical make-up of any of the lower animals (insects, crustaceans, mollusks, etc.). But consciousness, so far as volition or choice is concerned, enters into the psychos of animals exceedingly low in the scale of animal life.

We have seen in the chapter on the senses in the lower animals, that animals possess one or all of the five senses-touch, taste, smell, sight, and hearing; we will see in a later chapter that some of them likewise possess certain other senses which man has lost in the process of evolution.

Now, let us very briefly discuss the modus operandi through which and by which conscious determination and other psychical manifestations arise from the physical basis-the senses.[23] I have asserted, and, as I believe, I have demonstrated elsewhere, the interdependence and correlation of physiology and psychology. Furthermore, I wish to be plainly understood as also asserting the physical basis and origin of all psychical operations whatever they may be.

Mind is always associated, according to our experience and knowledge (and this question must be studied objectively) with a peculiar tissue which is only to be found in animal organisms. This tissue is called nerve, and is made up of cells and, broadly speaking, prolongations of cells which are called nerve-fibres.

Certain accumulations of nerve-cells called ganglions (ganglia) are to be found scattered throughout the structure of animals. Experiment and observation teach that these ganglia subserve a governing influence over nerve-action; hence, they are called nerve-centres.

Nerve-tissue is found in all animals above and including Hydrozoa, according to Romanes;[24] I am inclined to believe, however, that it is present in animals even lower than Hydrozoa, for I have been able, on more than one occasion, to verify Professor Clark's observations in regard to the protozoan, Stentor polymorphus, which, as he asserts,[25] has a well-developed nervous system. Moreover, I have seen, in my opinion, unquestionable acts of conscious determination enacted by this little creature, as I will point out further along in this chapter.

Nerve-tissue has the peculiar faculty of transmitting impressions made upon it by stimuli. When a nerve is acted on by a stimulus, the impression wave is transmitted along the in-going nerve to the ganglion; here, the stimulus is transferred to the out-going nerve, which, going to the muscle, causes it to contract.

This form of nerve-action is called reflex action, and reflex action is, in the beginning, the germ from which spring volition (choice) and all of the higher psychical attributes.

Again, it is to be observed, as animals become more highly organized, that nerves have the power of discriminating between stimuli, and "it is this power of discriminating between stimuli," as Romanes puts it, "irrespective of their relative mechanical intensities, that constitutes the physiological aspect of choice" (volition). It is also through the faculty of discrimination that the special senses, upon which the entire psychical structure depends, have been evolved.

The fact of this power of discrimination has been so clearly and so beautifully demonstrated by Romanes, that I present his experiment and observations, as detailed by him in his magnificent work, Mental Evolution in Animals:-

"I have observed that if a sea-anemone is placed in an aquarium tank, and allowed to fasten on one side of the tank near the surface of the water, and if a jet of sea-water is made to play continuously and forcibly upon the anemone from above, the result of course is that the animal becomes surrounded with a turmoil of water and air-bubbles. Yet, after a short time, it becomes so accustomed to this turmoil that it will expand its tentacles in search of food, just as it does when placed in calm water. If now one of the expanded tentacles is gently touched with a solid body, all the others close around that body, in just the same way as they would were they expanded in calm water. That is to say, the tentacles are able to discriminate between the stimulus which is applied by the turmoil of the water and that which is supplied by their contact with the solid body, and they respond to the latter stimulus notwithstanding that it is of incomparably less intensity than the former."[26]

When a stimulus passes over a nerve to a ganglion, it leaves upon it an impression which remains for a shorter or longer time as the stimulus is great or small. Now, when a stimulus is again applied to the nerve, the impression wave follows in the footsteps, as it were, of the first impression wave, and the ganglion reflects or transfers it just as before, thus showing that nerve has another peculiar quality-that of memory.

Again, when two or more reflexes are excited by the same stimulus or stimuli, the ganglion learns to associate one with the other, thus showing that it possesses another quality-that of the association of ideas (stimuli and reflexes).

All of these operations are, in their beginnings, exceedingly simple; yet, as organisms increase in complexity, these simple beginnings become more complex and more highly developed.

Heretofore, the operations described have been entirely ganglionic (reflex) and utterly without that which we call consciousness. Now, since consciousness, as I understand it, is simply a knowledge of existence, and since this knowledge of existence is only to be had through sensual perceptions, and, since sensual perceptions are excited undoubtedly by co?rdinated stimuli, then, "there cannot be co?rdination of many stimuli without some ganglion through which they are all brought into relation. In the process of bringing these into relation, this ganglion must be subject to the influence of each-must undergo many changes. And the quick succession of changes in a ganglion, implying as it does perpetual experiences of differences and likenesses, constitute the raw material of consciousness."[27]

However quick this succession of changes may be, there must be an interval of time between the application of the stimulus and the response to that stimulus, hence, the element of time enters into all psychical operations that are not distinctly reflex. Even in the reflexes there is a time element, but it is distinctly shorter than the time interval that enters into the make-up of a conscious psychical operation. This can easily be demonstrated, as has been done, time and again, by actual experiment.

"With this gradual dawn of consciousness as revealed to subjective analysis, we should expect some facts of physiology, or of objective analysis, to correspond; and this we do find. For in our own organisms we know that reflex actions are not accompanied by consciousness, although the complexity of the nerve-muscular systems concerned in these actions may be very considerable. Clearly, therefore, it is not mere complexity of ganglionic action that determines consciousness. What, then, is the difference between the mode of operation of the cerebral hemispheres and that of the lower ganglia, which may be taken to correspond with the great subjective distinction between the consciousness which may attend the former and the no-consciousness which is invariably characteristic of the latter? I think that the only difference that can be pointed to is a difference of rate of time."[28]

The gradual cultivation of the senses (evolution), during which the special adaptations of their motor reactions are gradually developed, is a necessary prerequisite to the formation and elaboration of conscious volition.[29] In the foregoing pages I have very briefly discussed this cultivation of the senses and the development of their motor reactions. I have likewise outlined the origin of volition from sensual perceptions; it now becomes necessary in this discussion of mind, in the lower animals, to study those organisms in which volition (choice) first makes its appearance in the shape of conscious determination.

Stentor polymorphus is exceedingly interesting on more than one account. Its queer, trumpet-like shape, with its flaring, bell-like, open mouth (if I may use such a term to indicate its entire cephalic extremity), surmounted by rows of vibratile cilia, its pulsating contractile vesicle, its ability to move from place to place by swimming, are all interesting features; but, when it is ascertained to be the first creature in the entire Animal Kingdom in which a true nervous system is to be found, then it becomes doubly interesting.

This protozoan has been a favorite subject for study with microscopists, but Professor Clark of Harvard was the first observer to note and call attention to its nerve-supply. Says he in his note calling attention to this discovery:-

"The digestive and circulatory systems are the only parts of the organization essential to life that are known to investigators; but recently I have been led to believe that I have discovered the nervous system, or at least a part of it, and that too in the very region of the body where there is the most activity, and therefore more likely than elsewhere to have this system most strongly developed. Immediately within the edge of the disk (bell) there runs all around a narrow faint band, which lies so close to the surface that it is difficult to determine precisely that it is not actually superficial. From this band there arise, at nearly equal distances all round, about a dozen excessively faint thin stripes, which converge in a general direction toward the mouth."[30]

This band Professor Clark very correctly, as I believe, assumes to be a part of Stentor's nervous system; for, with a medium high-power lens (×500) I have been able to make out ganglionic enlargements both in the circular band and in the stripes. These ganglia are the brain of this infusorian. When the animalcule is stained with eosin, the nervous system can very readily be made out and followed throughout all of its ramifications.

On one occasion, while I was studying the contractile vesicle (heart) of one of these animalcules, I saw it evince what seemed to me to be unquestionable evidences of conscious determination.

Just above the creature, which was resting in its tube (it builds a gelatinous tube into which it shrinks when alarmed or disturbed in any way), there was a bit of alga, from which ripened spores were being given off. Some of these spores were ruptured (probably by my manipulations) and starch grains were escaping therefrom.

The Stentor, from its location below the alga, could not reach the starch grains without altering its position. I saw it elevate itself in its tube until it touched the starch grains with its cilia. With these it swept a grain into its mouth, and then sank down in its tube. I thought, at first, that this was the result of accident, but when the creature again elevated itself, and again captured a starch grain, I was compelled to admit design!

By some sense, it had discovered the presence of starch, which it recognized to be food; it could not get at this food without making a change in its position, which, therefore, it immediately proceeded to do!

Here was an act which required, so it seemed to me, correlative ideation, and which was doubly surprising, because occurring in an animal of such extremely simple organization. This observation was substantiated, however, by the testimony of Professor Carter, an English biologist, which came to my notice a week or so thereafter. This investigator witnessed a similar act in an animalcule belonging, it is true, to another family, but which is almost, if not quite, as simple in its organization as Stentor. He does not designate the particular rhizopods that he had under observation, yet from his language, we are able to classify them approximately. His account is so very interesting that I take the liberty of quoting him in full.

"On one occasion, while investigating the nature of some large, transparent, spore-like elliptical cells (fungal?) whose protoplasm was rotating, while it was at the same time charged with triangular grains of starch, I observed some actinophorous rhizopods creeping about them, which had similar shaped grains of starch in their interior; and having determined the nature of these grains by the addition of iodine, I cleansed the glasses, and placed under the microscope a new portion of the sediment from the basin containing these cells and actinophryans for further examination, when I observed one of the spore-like cells had become ruptured, and that a portion of its protoplasm, charged with the triangular starch grains, was slightly protruding through the crevice. It then struck me that the actinophryans had obtained their starch grains from this source; and while looking at the ruptured cell, an actinophrys made its appearance, and creeping round the cell, at last arrived at the crevice, from which it extricated one of the grains of starch mentioned, and then crept off to a good distance. Presently, however, it returned to the same cell; and although there were now no more starch grains protruding, the actinophrys managed again to extract one from the interior through the crevice. All this was repeated several times, showing that the actinophrys instinctively knew that those were nutritious grains, that they were contained in this cell, and that, although each time after incepting a grain it went away to some distance, it knew how to find its way back to the cell again which furnished this nutriment.

"On another occasion I saw an actinophrys station itself close to a ripe spore-cell of pythium, which was situated on a filament of Spirogyra crassa; and as the young ciliated monadic germs issued forth one after another from the dehiscent spore-cell, the actinophrys remained by it and caught every one of them, even to the last, when it retired to another part of the field, as if instinctively conscious that there was nothing more to be got at the old place.

"But by far the greatest feat of this kind that ever presented itself to me was the catching of a young acineta by an old sluggish am?ba, as the former left its parent; this took place as follows:

"In the evening of the 2d of June, 1858, in Bombay, while looking through a microscope at some Euglen?, etc., which had been placed aside for examination in a watch-glass, my eye fell upon a stalked and triangular acineta (A. mystacina?), around which an am?ba was creeping and lingering, as they do when they are in quest of food. But knowing the antipathy that the am?ba, like almost every other infusorian, has to the tentacles of the acineta, I concluded that the am?ba was not encouraging an appetite for its whiskered companion, when I was surprised to find that it crept up the stem of the acineta, and wound itself round its body.

"This mark of affection, too much like that frequently evinced at the other end of the scale, even where there is mind for its control, did not long remain without interpretation. There was a young acineta, tender and without poisonous tentacles (for they are not developed at birth), just ready to make its exit from its parent, an exit which takes place so quickly, and is followed by such rapid bounding movements of the non-ciliated acineta, that who would venture to say, a priori, that a dull, heavy, sluggish am?ba could catch such an agile little thing? But the am?b? are as unerring and unrelaxing in their grasp as they are unrelenting in their cruel inceptions of the living and the dead, when they serve them for nutrition; and thus the am?ba, placing itself around the ovarian aperture of the acineta, received the young one, nurse-like, in its fatal lap, incepted it, descended from the parent, and crept off. Being unable to conceive at the time that this was such an act of atrocity on the part of the am?ba as the sequel disclosed, and thinking that the young acineta might yet escape, or pass into some other form in the body of its host, I watched the am?ba for some time afterwards, until the tale ended by the young acineta becoming divided into two parts, and thus in their respective digestive spaces ultimately becoming broken down and digested."[31]

In the discussion of conscious and unconscious mind, I called attention to the marginal bodies of the nectocalyx of the jelly-fish. These bodies in the "covered-eyed" species are protected by hoods of gelatinous tissue; in the naked-eyed species the hoods are absent. The marginal bodies in both species are practically identical as far as general make-up is concerned, being composed of an accumulation of brightly-colored pigment-cells, embedded in which are several minute clear crystals. Nerve-fibres connect these bodies with the sensorium ("nerve-ring").

Jelly-fish seek the light, and they can be made to follow a bright light from one side of the aquarium to the other by manipulating the light in the proper manner. Even where a slight current is set up in the water, they will swim against it in their efforts to reach the light.

When two or more of the marginal bodies are excised, no effect seems to follow such excision, but as soon as the last of these bodies is cut out, the creature falls to the bottom of the tank without motion.

When a point in the nectocalyx is irritated with a point of a needle or by a vegetable or mineral irritant, the tip of the manubrium will turn toward, and endeavor to touch, the spot irritated. It does not turn at once, as it would were its movements the result of reflex action; it moves deliberately as though actuated by volition.

The above experiments and observation seem to indicate the presence of conscious determination in the medusa; in fact, there seems to be a distinct element of choice in these psychical manifestations.

While engaged in watching a water-louse, I saw it swim to a hydra, tear off one of its buds, and then swim some distance away to a small bit of mud, behind which it hid until it devoured its tender morsel. Again it swam back to the hydra and plucked from it one of its young; again it swam back to the little mud heap, behind which it once more ensconced itself until it was through with its meal. When we remember that this little creature was among entirely new surroundings (for I dipped it from a pond in a tablespoon full of water which I had poured into a saucer), we will appreciate the fact that the water-louse evinced conscious determination and no little memory. It probably discovered the hydra accidentally; it then, as soon as it had secured its prey, swam away, seeking some spot where it could eat its food without molestation. But when it sought the hydra again and swam back to its sheltering mud heap, it showed that it remembered the route to and from its source of food supply and its temporary hiding-place.

At the base of a large terminal ganglion in the neuro-cephalic system of the common garden snail, lying immediately below and between its two "horns," will be found, I am satisfied, the centre governing its sense of direction. For, when this portion of this ganglion is destroyed, the snail loses its ability of returning to its home when carried only a short distance away; otherwise, it can find its way back to its domicile when taken what must be to it a very great distance away, indeed. Beneath the stone coping of a brick wall surrounding the front of my lawn, and which, on the side toward my residence, is almost flush with the ground, many garden snails find a cool, moist, and congenial home. Last summer I took six of these snails, and, after marking them with a paint of zinc oxide and gum arabic, set them free on the lawn. In time, four of these marked snails returned to their home beneath the stone coping; two of them were probably destroyed by enemies. Again, the same number of snails were marked, after the base of the above-mentioned ganglion had been destroyed, and likewise set free. Although they lived and were to be observed now and then on the trees and bushes of the lawn, none of them ever returned to the place from which they were taken beneath the stone coping. I have performed this experiment repeatedly, always with like results.

These experiments show that the snail is capable of conscious effort; furthermore, they indicate that this little animal is the possessor of a special sense which many of the higher animals have lost in the process of evolution. I refer to the sense of direction, or "homing instinct," so-called, which will be treated at length in the chapter on Auxiliary Senses.

Darwin has very beautifully demonstrated the senses of touch, taste, and smell in the angle-worm; provisionally he denies it, however, the senses of sight and hearing.[32] I think he is in error as to these last two senses.

Angle-worms are nocturnal in their habits, hence, we should expect, from the very nature of things, to find them able to differentiate between light and darkness. And experiments show, very conclusively, that they are very sensitive to light. My vermicularium is made of glass, consequently, when one of its inmates happens to be next to the glass sides, which very frequently occurs, it is easy to experiment on it with pencils of strong light. If a ray of light is directed upon an angle-worm, it at once begins to show discomfort, and, in a very few moments, it will crawl away from the source of annoyance, and hide in some tunnel deep in the earth of the vermicularium. Again, when the worms are out of their tunnels at night, a strong light shining on them will at once cause them to seek their holes.

If the back of an earthworm be examined with a high-power lens (×500), small points of pigment will be seen here and there in its dorsal integument; these, I believe, are primitive eyes (ocelli). I think that the worm is enabled to tell the difference between light and darkness through the agency of these minute dark spots, which serve to arrest the rays of light, thus conveying a stimulus to nerve-fibrils, which, in turn, carry it to the sensorium.

Any country schoolboy will tell you that worms can hear. He points to his simple experiment (pounding on the earth with a club) in proof of his assertion. For, as soon as he begins to pound the ground in a favorable neighborhood, the worms will come to the surface "to see what makes the noise." Darwin assumes that the worms feel the vibrations, which are disagreeable to them, and come to the surface in order to escape them. I do not deny the possibility or the probability of this assumption; I do deny, however, that it proves that worms are deaf.

If the third anal segment (abdominal aspect) of a worm be examined, two round, disk-like organs incorporated in the integument will be found; these organs are supplied with special nerves which lead to the central nerve-cord. Experiments lead me to believe that these are organs of audition.

When I tap the earth of my vermicularium with a pencil, the unmutilated worms will come to the surface; but, when the organs described above are removed, the worms so mutilated will not respond to the tapping, but will remain in their tunnel. The worms are not appreciably impaired by such mutilation; on the contrary, they seem to thrive as well as those to which the knife has not been applied.

In creatures which possess, in all probability, the senses of touch, taste, smell, sight, and hearing, we would naturally expect to find some evidences of conscious determination; and we do.

Certain leaves are the favorite food of earth-worms, while certain other leaves are eaten by them, but not with avidity. When these two kinds of leaves are given to worms, they will carefully select the favorite food and will ignore the other, thus unmistakably evincing conscious choice. Their avoidance of light is probably the result of conscious determination, and not reflex, as some observers maintain.

Oysters taken from a bank never uncovered by the sea, open their shells, lose the water within, and soon die; but oysters kept in a reservoir and occasionally uncovered learn to keep their shells closed, and live much longer when taken out of the water. This is an act of intelligence due directly to experience without even the factor of heredity.[33] It is an instance of almost immediate adaptation to surrounding circumstances.

A gentleman fixed a land-snail, with the mouth of the shell upward, in a chink of a rock. The animal protruded its foot to the utmost extent, and, attaching it above, tried to pull the shell vertically in a straight line. Then it stretched its body to the right side, pulled, and failed to move the shell. It then stretched its foot to the left side, pulled with all of its strength, and released the shell. There were intervals of rest between these several attempts, during which the snail remained quiescent.[34] Thus we see that it exerted force in three directions, never twice in the same direction, which fact shows conscious determination and no slight degree of intelligence.

A ground wasp once built a nest beneath the brick pavement in front of my door. The entrance of the nest was situated in the little sulcus, or ditch, between two bricks. While the wasp was absent, I stopped the entrance with a pellet of paper, and, when the little housekeeper returned, she was nonplussed for a moment or two, when she discovered that her doorway had been closed. The wasp, after examining the pellet of paper, seized it with her jaws and tried to pull it away; but, since she stood on the brick and pulled backwards (toward herself), the edge of the brick interposed, and she could not dislodge the obstacle. Finally, she got down into the little gully between the two bricks, and pulled the pellet away from the opening of the nest without any further trouble. Three times I performed the experiment, the wasp going through like performances each time. At the fourth time, however, she went at once into the little space between the bricks, and then removed the wad of paper without difficulty. I stopped the hole five or six times after this, but she had learned a lesson; she always got into the sulcus between the bricks before attempting to remove the paper. She had discovered the fact that she could not remove it when she stood upon the surfaces of the bricks, owing to the interposition of their sides, and that she could drag it away if she got down into the little ditch and pulled the paper in a direction where nothing opposed. In this instance there was not only conscious determination, but also a distinct exhibition of memory. It took the wasp some time to learn that she had to pull in a certain direction before she could remove the pellet of paper; but when she had once learned this fact, she remembered it. And this brings us to another quality of mind-memory-which will be discussed in the next chapter.

FOOTNOTES:

[23] "Sensorial impression is at the bottom of all our ideas, all our conceptions, though it may at first conceal itself in the form of a binary, ternary, quaternary compound; and, on our methodically pursuing the inquiry, it is easily recognizable-just as a simple substance in organic chemistry may be always summoned to appear, if we sit down with the resolution to disengage it from all the artificial combinations which hold it imprisoned."-Luys, The Brain and its Functions, p. 252.

[24] Romanes, Mental Evolution in Animals, p. 24.

[25] Clark, Mind in Nature, p. 64 et seq.

[26] Romanes, Mental Evolution in Animals, pp. 48, 49.

[27] Spencer, Principles of Psychology, Vol. I. p. 435.

[28] Romanes, Mental Evolution in Animals, pp. 72, 73.

[29] Maudsley, Physiology of Mind, p. 247.

[30] Clark, Mind in Nature, pp. 64, 65.

[31] Carter, Annals of Natural History, 3d Series, 1863, pp. 45, 46; quoted also by Romanes, Animal Intelligence, pp. 20, 21.

[32] Darwin, Formation of Vegetable Mould.

[33] Dicquemase, Journal de Physique, Vol. XXVIII. p. 244; quoted also by Darwin, MS.; by Bingley, Animal Biography, Vol. III. p. 454; and by Romanes, Animal Intelligence, p. 25.

[34] Consult Romanes, Animal Intelligence, p. 26.

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