Chapter 8

Translation of the chapter on "The Unconscious in Instinct," from Von Hartmann's "Philosophy of the Unconscious."

Von Hartmann's chapter on instinct is as follows:-

Instinct is action taken in pursuance of a purpose but without conscious perception of what the purpose is. [92a]

A purposive action, with consciousness of the purpose and where the course taken is the result of deliberation is not said to be instinctive; nor yet, again, is blind aimless action, such as outbreaks of fury on the part of offended or otherwise enraged animals. I see no occasion for disturbing the commonly received definition of instinct as given above; for those who think they can refer all the so-called ordinary instincts of animals to conscious deliberation ipso facto deny that there is such a thing as instinct at all, and should strike the word out of their vocabulary. But of this more hereafter.

Assuming, then, the existence of instinctive action as above defined, it can be explained as -

I. A mere necessary consequence of bodily organisation. [92b]

II. A mechanism of brain or mind contrived by nature.

III. The outcome of an unconscious activity of mind.

In neither of the two first cases is there any scope for the idea of purpose; in the third, purpose must be present immediately before the action. In the two first cases, action is supposed to be brought about by means of an initial arrangement, either of bodily or mental mechanism, purpose being conceived of as existing on a single occasion only--that is to say, in the determination of the initial arrangement. In the third, purpose is conceived as present in every individual instance. Let us proceed to the consideration of these three cases.

Instinct is not a mere consequence of bodily organisation; for -

(a.) Bodies may be alike, yet they may be endowed with different instincts.

All spiders have the same spinning apparatus, but one kind weaves radiating webs, another irregular ones, while a third makes none at all, but lives in holes, whose walls it overspins, and whose entrance it closes with a door. Almost all birds have a like organisation for the construction of their nests (a beak and feet), but how infinitely do their nests vary in appearance, mode of construction, attachment to surrounding objects (they stand, are glued on, hang, &c.), selection of site (caves, holes, corners, forks of trees, shrubs, the ground), and excellence of workmanship; how often, too, are they not varied in the species of a single genus, as of parus. Many birds, moreover, build no nest at all. The difference in the songs of birds are in like manner independent of the special construction of their voice apparatus, nor do the modes of nest construction that obtain among ants and bees depend upon their bodily organisation. Organisation, as a general rule, only renders the bird capable of