Criminal Psychology, Hans Gross [jenna bush book club .txt] 📗

own insight but which show themselves finally to depend upon the opinion of some other element. We frequently base our constructions upon the remarkable and convincing unanimity of such witnesses when upon <p 243>

closer examination we might discover that this unanimity has a single source. If we make this discovery it is fortunate, for only time and labor have then been lost and no mistake has been committed.

But if the discovery is not made, the unanimity remains an important, but really an unreliable means of proof.

 

Section 47. (b) The Mechanism of Thinking.

 

Since the remarkable dissertation of W. Ostwald,[1] on Sept. 20, 1905, we have been standing at a turning point which looks toward a new view of the world. We do not know whether the “ignorabimus”

of some of the scientists will hold, or whether we shall be able to think everything in terms of energy. We merely observe that the supposedly invincible principles of scientific materialism are shaken.

 

[1] W. Ostwald: Die <U:>berwindung des wissenschaftlichen Materialismus.

 

Frederick the Great, in a letter to Voltaire, says something which suggests he was the first to have thought of the purely mechanical nature of thought. Cabanis had said briefly, that the brain secretes thought as the liver bile. Tyndall expressed this conception more cautiously, and demanded merely the confession that every act of consciousness implies a definite molecular condition of the brain, while Bois-Reymond declared that we could not explain certain psychical processes and events by knowledge of the material processes in the brain. “You shall make no picture or comparison, but see as directly as the nature of our spirit will permit,” Ostwald tells us, and it is well to stick to this advice. We need neither to cast aside the mechanical view of the world nor to accept energism; neither of them is required. But according to the teachings of the latter, we shall be enabled to recognize the meaning of natural law in the determination of how actual events are conditioned by possible ones. And thus we shall see that the form that all natural laws turn to expresses the mediation of an invariable, a quantity that remains unchangeable even when all the other elements in the formula of a possible event alter within the limits defined by the law.[2]

 

[2] A. H<o:>fler: Psychologie. Vienna 1897.

 

Every science must provide its own philosophy, and it is our duty to know properly and to understand clearly how far we may perceive connections between the physical qualities of any one of our witnesses and his psychic nature. We will draw no inferences ourselves, but we will take note of what does not explain itself and apply <p 244>

to experts to explain what we can not. This is especially necessary where the relation of the normal to the abnormal becomes a question.

 

The normal effects to be spoken of are very numerous, but we shall consider only a few. The first is the connection of symbol and symbolized. “The circumstance that the symbol, on its side of the union of the two, becomes perfectly clear while the symbolized object is rather confused, is explained by the fact that the symbol recalls its object more quickly than the object the symbol; e.g., the tool recalls its use more quickly than the purpose its instrument.

Name and word recall more quickly, reliably, and energetically the objects they stand for than do the objects their symbols.”[1]

This matter is more important than it looks at first glance, inasmuch as the particles of time with which we are dealing are greater than those with which modern psychologists have to deal,—so large indeed, that they may be perceived in practice. We lay stress during the examination, when we are in doubt about the correctness of the expected answer, upon the promptness and rapidity with which it is given. Drawn out, tentative, and uncertain answers, we take for a sign that the witness either is unable or unwilling to give his replies honestly. If, however, psychologically there are real reasons for variation in the time in which an answer is given, reasons which do not depend on its correctness, we must seek out this correctness. Suppose that we have before us a case in which the name awakens more quickly and reliably the idea of the person to whom it belongs than conversely. This occurs to any one of us, and often we can not remember the name of even a close friend for a greater or shorter period. But we very rarely find that we do not think of the appearance of the individual whose name we hear mentioned.

But it would be wrong to relate this phenomenon to certain qualities which contradict it only apparently. E. g., when I examine old statutes which I myself have worked with and review the names of the series, I recall that I had something to do with this Jones, Smith, Black, or White, and I recall what the business was, but I do not recall their appearance. The reason is, first of all, the fact that during the trial I did not care about the names which served as a means of distinguishing one from the other, and they might, for that purpose, have been a, b, c, etc. Hence, the faces and names were not as definitely associated as they ordinarily are. Moreover, *this failure to recall is a substitution for each other of the many tanti quanti that we take up in our daily routine. When we have <p 245>

had especial business with any particular individual we do remember his face when his name is mentioned.

 

[1] Volkmar: Psychologie. C<o:>then 1875.

 

If, then, a witness does not quickly recall the name of something he is thinking of, but identifies it immediately when the name is given him, you have a natural psychological event which itself has no bearing on the truth or falsity of his testimony.

 

The same relation is naturally to be found in all cases of parallel phenomena, i. e., names, symbols, definitions, etc. It applies, also, to the problem of the alteration in the rapidity of psychical processes with the time of the day. According to Bechterew and Higier there is an increase in psychical capacity from morning to noon, then a dropping until five o’clock in the afternoon, then an increase until nine o’clock in the evening, and finally a sinking until twelve o’clock midnight. There is, of course, no doubt that these investigators have correctly collected their material; that their results shall possess general validity is, however, not so certain. The facts are such that much depends, not only on the individual character, but also on the instant of examination. One hears various assertions of individuals at times when they are most quick to apprehend and at their best, and hence it is hardly possible to draw a general rule from such phenomena. One may be wide awake in the morning, another in the forenoon, a third at night, and at each time other people may be at their worst. In a similar fashion, the psychic disposition varies not only during the day, but from day to day.

So far as my observations go the only thing uncontradicted is the fact that the period between noon and five o’clock in the afternoon is not a favorable one. I do not believe, however, that it would be correct to say that the few hours after the noon dinner are the worst in the day, for people who eat their dinners at about four or five o’clock assure me that from one to five in the afternoon, they cannot work so well. These facts may have a value for us in so far as we can succeed in avoiding the trial of important cases which require especial consideration during the time mentioned.

 

Section 48. (c) The Subconscious.

 

It is my opinion that the importance of unconscious operations[1a]

in legal procedure is undervalued. We could establish much that is significant concerning an individual whose unconscious doings we knew. For, as a rule, we perform unconsciously things that <p 246>

are deeply habitual, therefore, first of all what everybody does—

walk, greet your neighbor, dodge, eat, etc.; secondly, we perform unconsciously things to which we have become accustomed in accordance with our especial characters.[1] When, during my work, I rise, get a glass of water, drink it, and set the glass aside again, without having the slightest suspicion of having done so, I must agree that this was possible only in my well-known residence and environment, and that it was possible to nobody else, not so familiar.

The coachman, perhaps, puts the horses into the stable, rubs them down, etc., and thinks of something else while doing so. He has performed unconsciously what another could not. It might happen that I roll a cigarette while I am working, and put it aside; after awhile I roll a second and a third, and sometimes I have four cigarettes side by side. I needed to smoke, had prepared a cigarette, and simply because I had to use my hands in writing, etc., I laid the cigarette aside. In consequence, the need to smoke was not satisfied and the process was repeated. This indicates what complicated things may be unconsciously performed if only the conditions are well-known; but it also indicates what the limits of unconscious action are: e. g., I had not forgotten what would satisfy my need to smoke, nor where my cigarette paper was, nor how to make a cigarette, but I had forgotten that I had made a cigarette without having smoked it. The activities first named have been repeated thousands of times, while the last had only just been performed and therefore had not become mechanical.[2]

 

[1a] Th. Lipps: Der Begriff des Unbewnssten in der Psychologie. M<u:>nchen 1896.

 

[1] Cf. Symposium on the Subconscious. Journal of Abnormal Psychology.

 

[2] Cf. H. Gross’s Archiv, II, 140.

 

Lipps calls attention to another instance: “It may be that I am capable of retaining every word of a speech and of observing at the same time the expression which accompanies the speech.

I might be equally able to trace a noise which occurs on the street and still to pay sufficient attention to the speech. On the other hand, I should lose the thread of the speech if I were required at the same time to think of the play of feature and the noise. Expressed in general terms, idea A may possibly get on with idea B

and even idea C; but B and C together make A impossible. This clearly indicates that B and C in themselves have opposed A and inhibited it in some degree, but that only the summation of their inhibition could serve really to exclude A.” This is certainly correct and may perhaps be more frequently made use of when it is necessary to judge how much an individual would have done at one and the <p 247>

same time, and how much he would have done unconsciously. An approximation of the possibilities can always be made.

 

Such complicated processes go down to the simplest operations.

Aubert indicates, for example, that in riding a horse at gallop you jump and only later observe whether you have jumped to the right or the left. And the physician Forster told Aubert that his patients often did not know how to look toward right or left. At the same time, everybody remembers how when he is doing it unconsciously, and it may often be observed that people have to make the sign of the cross, or the gesture of eating in order to discover what is right and what left, although they are unconsciously quite certain of these directions. Still broader activities are bound up with