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11
BELIEF AND DESIRE *1
1880
Among the many continuous dimensions that the soul seems to present us with—degrees of heat or
cold, more or less vivid bursts of color, increasingly or decreasingly vivid pains and pleasures, and
so forth—it would be scientifically desirable to isolate one or two real quantities which, while
everywhere mixed with the qualitative elements of sensations, would lend themselves in theory or in
practice to measurement. 1 Even if measurable only theoretically but not in practice, the demonstration
of their basic albeit latent measurability would still be worthwhile. If these quantities appeared, it
would be natural to conjecture that they are characteristic of the subject and there would be reason to
inquire whether they reveal through other characteristics their distinct, fundamental, and irreducible
nature.
But do these psychological quantities exist? This question cannot be approached before something
has been said about the forceful and profound, though not always successful, researchers who
developed psychophysics. Despite their laudable intention of quantifying the soul, the
psychophysicists seem to me to ignore precisely the only two internal dimensions whose continuous
variations and homogeneous degrees naturally suggest the use of calculation even though they cannot
be measured by physical instruments: namely, belief and desire, and their reciprocal combinations,
judgment and will.
What these bold scholars claim to calculate are the degrees of sensation: the Fechner law is well
known along with other equally ingenious formulas whose almost total inaccuracy has been
demonstrated. When by chance these attempts at subjective measurement are reasonably successful
and become generally accepted, it is in cases where they are applied either to sensations considered
agreeable or painful—those which arouse more or less desire or aversion—or to sensations
considered more or less intense—those which arouse more or less attention.
For the first case we have La Place’s remark on the parallel and unequally rapid increases in the
wealth of a man and the happiness it procures for him. For the second case we are told how great
must be the difference in vibration of two notes for us to perceive the difference in the corresponding
aural sensations. Or we are told that a sensitive dispatch is transmitted by our nerves’ telegraphic
system with a speed that varies according to whether the brain does or does not expect this
transmission, or whether its attention is occupied by some other sensation. Summarizing the work of
numerous experimenters Mr. Ribot says, “We come to the general conclusion that the reproduction of
states of consciousness, like their immediate perception, depends on the level of attention.” 2 When a
bell is struck beside us, a certain time passes before we perceive the sound. If at the same time as the
bell is struck an electric spark is given off, the two sensations reach us together, with a noticeable
delay. It seems quite probable and almost certain that this delay is due to the disturbance of attention,
which, essential to the very existence of sensations, has two tasks to fulfill. Other experiments leave
no doubt on this point. Thus, without attention, no sensation; and everything in sensation which is
susceptible of increase or decrease (such as length, intensity, and particularly the clarity of visual
sensations) can and must be attributed to attention unless it is attributed to desire.
Just what is attention? One reply might be that it is an effort to specify an nascent sensation. But one
must be aware that, once all accompanying muscular action is eliminated, the purely psychological