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First, as to its cause. When a solitary individual receives from his senses two apparently
contradictory impressions, he hesitates between two sense judgments, one of which says that that spot
down there is a lake, while the other denies it. Here is an internal opposition of purely psychological
origin, a thing which occurs but seldom, however. Indeed, we may assert without fear of error that
every doubt or hesitation experienced by even the most isolated man belonging to the most savage of
tribes is due to an encounter within himself, either of two rays of instances which come together and
interfere in his brain, or else of a single ray of instances which runs athwart of some sense
perception. In writing, I often hesitate between two synonymous phrases, each of which appears
preferable to the other under the given circumstances; here it is two rays of imitation that interfere
within me—I refer to the two human series which, beginning with the first inventor of each of these
phrases, have reached on down to myself. For, each of these phrases I learned from some individual,
who learned it from some other, and so on up to the first one who uttered it. (This, let me say again, is
what I mean by a ray of imitation, or imitative ray; and the sum total of rays of this kind derived from
any single inventor, originator, or innovator, whose pattern is reproduced, is what I call an imitative
radiation. Our social life includes a thick network of radiations of this sort, with countless mutual
interferences.) . . .
But let us face the question in a still more general way. When an individual becomes aware of a
contradiction existing between one of his conclusions, aims, notions, or habits—such as a dogma, turn
of phraseology, commercial procedure, species of arm or tool, etc.—and the conclusion, aim, notion,
or habit of some other man or men, one of three things happens. On the one hand, he may allow
himself to be completely influenced by the other, and abruptly abandon his own mode of thinking or
acting; in this case there is no internal strife, the victory occurs without a struggle, and presents one of
the many instances of imitation which make up the social life. On the other hand, our individual may
only half submit to the other’s influence; this is the case we were considering above, and the shock is
here followed by a diminution of its force, so that it becomes more or less weakened and paralyzed.
Or, finally, he may actively oppose the strange action or habit—the belief or volition with which he
has come in contact—and assert or desire all the more strenuously what he asserted and desired
before. Yet, even in this last case, where he rouses all the strength of his conviction or passion to
repel another’s example, he experiences a certain unrest, an internal strife—though of another sort, it
is true, and as inspiring as the former was enervating. This unrest, also, for the very reason that it
results from an over-excitement and not a paralysis of one’s individual force, is likely to spread
contagiously; and this is what causes the splitting up of a society into parties. A new party always
consists of a group of persons who, one after another and copying one another, have adopted a notion
or course contrary to that which had hitherto reigned in their midst, and with which they themselves
had been imbued. On the other hand, this new dogmatism, becoming more intense and intolerant as it
spreads, raises against itself a coalition of those who, remaining faithful to tradition, have made
exactly the opposite choice, and thus two fanatical parties find themselves face to face.
So we see that, whether in a violent, dogmatic form, or in a weaker, sceptical one, the juxtaposition
of two opposite terms is social in character, provided it spreads by imitation. . . .
One may ask himself in this connection, as I asked long ago, in one of my first articles, which is
worse for a society: to be divided into parties and sects fighting over opposing programmes and
dogmas, and into nations continually warring with one another, or to be composed of individuals at
peace with one another, but each individually striving within himself, a prey to scepticism,
irresolution, and discouragement? . . . Were it true that we must choose between these two solutions,
it must be admitted that the social problem would be exceedingly difficult to settle. . . .