# An Introduction to Ethics, for Training Colleges/Chapter 3

CHAPTER III.
INSTINCTIVE BEHAVIOUR.
The basis of human character is to be found in instinctive behaviour. Long before the child is capable of forming definite purposes and consciously willing its conduct, it acts instinctively. Instinctive behaviour is specially characteristic of the child's early months; but the child does not drop its instincts with its baby-socks and bib. Human instincts are important, because they are capable of modification and development, and thus continue to form an integral part of conduct, even at its highest levels. Many of man's highest ideals are firmly rooted in primitive instincts, and his noblest institutions have their foundation in his instinctive behaviour.
But we should beware of thinking that because it can be shown that our ideals and aspirations are very closely related to primitive instincts they are therefore any the less lofty and noble. The ideal of motherhood is none the less sacred because it is grounded upon natural instincts, nor is the church any the less spiritual an institution because its appeal is based upon instincts which man shares with the brutes. If man's noblest aspirations have grown ​out of instinctive wants, and his highest institutions have been formed in response to persistent instinctive needs, the proper conclusion to be drawn is, not that these ideals and associations are, after all, mean and poor, but that the instincts from which they have developed are themselves valuable and worthy.
It is of importance, then, in tracing the development of character, to ask, What are instincts, How do they contribute to the formation of man's ideals and institutions, and How may they be educated?
§ 1. What are Instincts? In ordinary conversation we frequently speak of instincts. We refer to the animal's instinct of self-preservation, and the child's instinctive trustfulness. We say that this man has an instinct for friendship, and that one an instinct for religion. We speak of our instinctive liking for a new acquaintance. What we seem to mean by instinct, in common parlance is simply something that is there to start with which we cannot explain. An instinctive mode of behaviour is a way in which a child naturally acts. An instinct is not artificial; it cannot be made. Something like this is the meaning which the man in the street attaches to instinct. On the whole, it is quite right; but it requires to be defined a little more precisely.
Instincts are certainly inherited. They form part ​of the congenital endowment with which the child starts life. In their origin they are not influenced by the child's experience. They belong to the child before he has acquired any experience at all. It is characteristic of what is instinctive that it does not require to be learnt. Instincts are usually general, and common to all members of the same group. Some instincts, e.g. that of self-preservation, seem to be common to all living creatures. Others are common only to particular species. Instinctive modes of behaviour are general: we do not inherit special ways of acting.
It is often difficult to distinguish instincts from what the psychologist calls reflex actions. But there are two main lines of distinction. (1) Reflex actions always occur in a fixed and regular way in response to an external stimulus. They occur only when the stimulus is present, and when it is present they occur naturally and necessarily. Thus, when a bit of dust flies into the eye, certain movements of the eyelids take place which tend to get rid of the intrusive speck. Instinctive behaviour, on the other hand, does not need a definite stimulus to elicit it. It is excited as a way of dealing with a relatively complex situation. (2) Reflex actions are fixed and uniform. For the most part they are incapable of modification. We cannot modify the reflex changes which take place in the pupil of the eye in response to changes in the intensity of the light. To put it briefly, while instincts are adaptive and modifiable, reflex movements are not.
Instincts may be adapted to the environment, in order to secure the well-being of the individual and ​the preservation of the race. They are subject to variation, and as experience grows they may be modified. Instincts contribute to the formation of experience, and in turn experience influences them. Most so-called instincts are not pure instincts. Even in the lower animals experience alters and improves instincts. Thus, chicks run and swim and dive and peck and scratch instinctively. They do not need to be taught to do any of these things. But experience may modify these instincts in special ways. "The inherited tendency of the chicks is to peck—to peck 'at anything and everything not too large,' But experience very rapidly teaches that it is pleasant to peck at some things, such as yolk of egg or cabbage-moth caterpillars, and very unpleasant to peck at others, such as cinnabar caterpillars or bits of orange peel. The tendency to peck at the one sort of object is accordingly confirmed. The tendency to peck at others is inhibited. ... The instinctive tendency is regulated, narrowed, and defined, as it becomes a habit in which experience has played its part."
§2. Some Prominent Human Instincts. If we take instinct in a narrow sense, to include only those modes of behaviour which occur in a fixed and uniform way at or near the beginning of infant life, our list of human instincts will be very short. The child instinctively clasps anything placed in its hand, it instinctively sucks the breast, and instinctively crawls. The infant also expresses itself instinctively by making vocal sounds and by smiling and frowning. But if we extend the ​term, in accordance with our use of it in the previous paragraph, to include modes of behaviour in which some element of experience may be included, our list grows very much longer. Some writers have enumerated over thirty human instincts. It will be enough for our purpose to consider a few of the most important.
(1) One of the earliest forms of instinctive behaviour is that prompted by fear. In its earliest hours the infant displays fear on the occurrence of any loud noise, and instinctively shrinks from it. This shrinking may develop into movements of flight and concealment as soon as the infant is capable of them. Along with this we may take the instinct of repulsion. The child instinctively shrinks from slimy creatures.
(2) The child instinctively opposes anything which rouses its anger. Any prolonged discomfort, or the interruption or lateness of a meal, will make the child angry. At first the infant has to be content to express its anger in cries; but, as soon as it is able, its instinctive opposition to what has aroused its anger issues in active pugnacity. "Many a little boy has, without any example or suggestion, suddenly taken to running with open mouth to bite the person who has angered him. … As the child grows up … and the means we take to overcome obstructions to our efforts become more refined and complex, this instinct ceases to express itself in its crude natural manner, save when most intensely excited, and becomes rather a source of increased energy of action."
​(3) The instinct of curiosity appears a little later in the life of the child than those which we have considered. The child's interest is excited by objects which are novel to it, but they must not be so strange as to startle it. The instinct of curiosity expresses itself first in the roving of the eyes, and later in the attempt to grasp the strange object with the hands. (4) The closely-related instincts of self-assertion and self-abasement are exhibited by the child in its relations with other people, and especially with other children of about its own age. It is apt to "show off," "put on side," swagger and brag—tendencies in which it is often encouraged by the applause with which parents and friends greet its early efforts to talk and walk. These displays of self-assertiveness often alternate with fits of shyness and bashfulness, which result immediately from the instinct of self-abasement.
(5) The gregarious instinct also appears early in the life of the child. The child's instinct for friendship is a special form of this instinct. The baby's smile seems to welcome everybody, and at a later stage children naturally herd together for their games.
(6) The instinct of acquisitiveness is not long in making its appearance in the normal child. Nearly every child makes a collection of something—stamps, postcards, cigarette photos, scraps, "paper people," birds' eggs, or any of a hundred and one other things, usually simply for the pleasure of collecting and without any definite purpose.
(7) For obvious reasons, the instinct of sex does not emerge until the child has reached the adolescent ​stage, though premonitions of it may occur in very young children.
(8) The parental instinct is also late in making its appearance. But it is certainly anticipated in the maternal affection of the little girl for her dolls.
With regard to instincts in general, two things should be remembered. First, the possession of a multitude of modified and modifiable instincts is a mark of distinction between man and the lower animals. The instincts of the lower animals are much more fixed than those of man. Man's instincts are essentially amenable to training; and on this fact depends the possibility of human progress. Again, it should be noted that, as the acquired element is so prominent in human instincts, they vary in their strength and in the manner of their appearance. Human instincts differ greatly from individual to individual both in their nature and in their operation. To use Prof. Stout's illustration, falling in love is instinctive, but we do not all fall in love with the same readiness or the same intensity— or with the same kind of person.
§ 3. The Social Significance of Instinct. The instincts which have been mentioned form the foundation on which all moral and social life is based. Some of them are more directly social in their reference than others, but all have some social and moral importance. From the social standpoint it is convenient to consider the instincts, which we have just enumerated, in pairs.
First we take the reproductive and parental instincts. Their importance for society needs no emphasis. It is obvious that if the sexual instinct ​could be abolished, society would soon disappear altogether. In human beings the parental instinct is conjoined with the reproductive, and so closely are they correlated, that "in the individuals in whom one of them is strong the other will also be strong in the majority of cases, and vice versa." The combination of these instincts results in the institution of the family; and there can be no doubt that the stability and integrity of the family is the sine qua non of the health of society. From these instincts directly spring some of the highest moral virtues. Self-sacrifice, along with a host of attendant virtues, is an immediate product of the instinct of parenthood; and "it is probable that these two instincts in conjunction, the reproductive and parental instincts, directly impel human beings to a greater sum of activity, effort, and toil, than all the other motives of human action taken together." These instincts are specially the foundation of the Home.
The instincts of pugnacity and gregariousness also have an important social reference; and, different as they seem at first sight, they yet contribute in almost equal measure to the foundation of communities. Man is naturally the most gregarious of animals. "To be alone is one of the greatest of evils for him. Solitary confinement is by many regarded as a mode of torture too cruel and unnatural for civilised countries to adopt. To one long pent up on a desert island the sight of a human footprint or a human form in the distance would be the most tumultuously exciting of experiences." To the ​gregarious instinct is due the fact that primitive men originally drew together into hordes, which gradually became more and more systematically organised. The gregarious instinct not only brings men into communities, but by its persistence it keeps them welded in these communities. To this result the instinct of pugnacity has also contributed. It would seem at first sight that if gregariousness is the instinct of unity, pugnacity is the instinct of diversity. It would seem that this instinct would keep men from mixing with their fellows. But the pugnacious instinct, which does originally raise every man's hand against his neighbour, is trained to hold itself in reserve to be used not against fellow-citizens, but against the public enemies of the State to which they belong. For the sake of protection, and in order to get the better of their enemies, men unite in communities, and direct their pugnacious instincts into wars on behalf of the community to which they belong. Thus both the origin and the continuance of settled communities depend on this instinct. And the two instincts in conjunction may be said to be the foundation of the State.
Another pair of instincts which may be considered together in their social significance are self-abasement and self-assertion on the one hand, and the instinct of shrinking and repulsion on the other. Man, in his early development, whether in the individual or the race, instinctively fears what he does not understand. Primitive man wonders at all he sees, and the combination of fear and wonder gives rise to respect and awe when he compares his own weakness with the strength of the mighty powers ​whose mysterious influence he cannot understand. The instinct of self-abasement is closely connected with man's veneration for superior powers. In contrast with them man minimises his own importance. As a result of the operation of these instincts, man gradually develops a mass of customary observance, with which he surrounds the objects of his veneration. These two instincts have contributed to the development of religion in the widest sense. In all primitive communities religious custom and observance has exercised a strongly conservative influence. Customary observance, buttressed by the sanctions of religion, has supplied the element of stability specially necessary to primitive society. These primitive religious instincts have persisted, and continue to play their part in all developed religions, though they have been moulded by the mellowing influences of such emotions as gratitude and love. Yet these two instincts form the basis of the Church.
The only other instincts whose social importance we need to consider are those of curiosity and acquisitiveness. The acquisitive instinct supplies one of the prime conditions of social progress. A people in whom this instinct is weak will make no progress. There still are in existence tribes of people who support themselves by hunting and collecting wild roots And fruits, and who have no homes and no possessions apart from what they can carry with them on their backs and in their hands. Modern civilisation depends on the fact that mankind has acquired a vast amount of possessions that are not required for the satisfaction ​of present needs, and which therefore form the great reservoir of capital with which modern industry is supplied. This instinct of acquisitiveness has also led to the acquisition of knowledge. All science depends on the operation of the instinct in forming the desire to add to the stock of human knowledge. The connection of this with the instinct of curiosity is obviously close. Man's speculative tendencies have their root in this instinct. Curiosity is one of the most distinctive characteristics of the child. We all know how persistently and importunately curious little children are. Toddy's curiosity to "see the wheels go round" is the secret root of all man's science and philosophy. On these two instincts is based the School.
We have considered these instincts in pairs, and have pointed out the intimate connection of each pair with a fundamental human institution. This is a convenient way of indicating their significance. But we must remember that these instincts are rarely found in isolation, and that all of them contribute in some measure to every human institution. In the State and in the Church, in the Home and in the School, we find the same human behaviour, based on the same instincts and governed by the same laws. All our experience is a unity. But within this unity some modes of instinctive behaviour are more closely connected than others with one or other of the chief human institutions.
§ 4. The Education of Instinct. All that has been said in the previous sections implies that instincts can be educated. The possibility of educating them depends on their three chief ​teristics. (1) Instincts are inherited. They are there to start with, and thus are material ready to the hand of the educator. (2) Instincts are modifiable. Within their limits they may be wonderfully developed by training. (3) Instincts are general. The specific activities which result from them may largely be determined by education.
All instincts are valuable when they are of "just right" strength. But when they become unduly weak or excessively violent, they may be injurious both to the individual himself and to the community of which he is a member. This is true of all the instincts. (1) The instinct of shrinking is socially valuable, when it is of the "just right" degree of strength. There are some things from which we are naturally averse, which we instinctively shun. It is right that we should shrink from them. But if the instinct of shrinking be too strong, it is apt to produce cowardice. On the other hand, if it be too weak, it may lead to insensibility and hardness of nature. And if we extend the moral significance of the instinct, it becomes even more clear that either in excess or in deficiency it is socially injurious. It is right that a man should feel aversion to moral evil, but if the instinct be too strong, it may impel him simply to avoid contact with a social wrong, though it may be his duty to face it and try to overcome it. On the other hand, if the instinct be unduly weak, it may produce an immorally complaisant attitude to evil. (2) The proper degree of pugnacity is socially valuable. But if the instinct be unduly developed, it leads to the evils of quarrelsomeness and war. On the ​other hand, a deficiency in this instinct is apt to make a child a milksop. Obstacles in his path will never call out the impulse to overcome them. He will tend to be intellectually weak and morally smug. (3) The immense value of curiosity in the development of science and religion has already been mentioned. But an abnormal degree of curiosity, or curiosity developed in a wrong direction, is simply inquisitiveness, which is a social nuisance. And a child devoid of all curiosity is apt to remain a cipher. He will have no interest in what he is made to learn, and throughout his life he will be content to take the line of least resistance. (4) The "just right" degree of the complementary instincts of self-assertiveness and self-abasement is socially valuable. At their "just right" degree these instincts become identical in their operation. Instinctive behaviour which shows the "just right" amount of self-assertiveness will also exhibit the "just right" degree of self-abasement. But we all know that excessive self-assertion is socially injurious, and so is excessive self-abasement. (5) The value of the gregarious instinct in its proper degree has already been referred to. Where it is lacking a man is apt to become a recluse and even a misanthrope. On the other hand, where it is unduly strong, it produces a pernicious love of the crowd. We see the operation of this instinct in an aggravated form (and compounded, no doubt, with other influences) in the herding of people into cities, in the love of perambulating busy streets, in attendance at crowded picture-palaces and football matches. (6) The instinct of ​acquisitiveness, in its proper degree, is the secret of provision for the future and of all social progress. Where it is absent or deficient, we have the vices of improvidence and prodigality. When it appears in excessive strength, it gives rise to miserliness and hoarding for its own sake. Both in excess and defect it is socially injurious. (7) The sexual instinct is socially valuable only in its right degree. Excessive strength and undue weakness will equally lead to disastrous social results. (8) The same is true of the parental instinct.
Thus in the case of every instinct the "just right" degree is personally valuable and socially useful; while excess or defect in the strength of the instinct is disadvantageous.
It is the task of the moral educator to secure that these instincts shall be developed to the "just right" degree, and in the right directions. If one child is always eager to "punch" his neighbour, his excessive pugnacity must be restrained. If another is perpetually bored, his curiosity should be stimulated. If another suffers from excessive shyness, his self-assertiveness should be encouraged. In each case it should be the aim of the teacher to confirm the instinct in its "just right" degree. But a great difficulty arises here. What is the "just right" degree? The teacher may know quite well what is the "just right" degree of the instincts he possesses. He knows that they are "just right" precisely as he knows that the temperature of his bath is "just right." He does not require a thermometer, when he is healthy, to tell him when his bath is "just right"; and when he ​is morally healthy, he needs no moral thermometer to tell him that his instincts are "just right."
But the teacher must beware of thinking that what is "just right" for him is necessarily "just right" for all his pupils. In one of his plays Judge Parry brings in a machine for measuring the goodness and naughtiness of boys and girls. A boy steps on the machine, and the indicator points to "good as gold." A little girl is next tested, and the verdict is "bad as blacking." But if we could have such a machine, it would be quite useless. Character cannot be weighed or measured like height or weight, and a degree of instinct which is quite right in one child may be quite wrong in another. Much therefore depends on the discretion and experience of the teacher. The teacher must learn by experience what is the "just right" degree of an instinct in a particular child. The mother learns by feeling the water what is the "just right" temperature of the baby's bath; and if she has twins, she may find by experience that the "just right" temperature for one is not "just right" for the other. The teacher must use his discretion in judging what is the "just right" degree of any instinct in a particular pupil; and must be ready to permit his experience of the child to modify his judgment. In particular, the teacher must always be prepared to allow for individual idiosyncrasies, and beware of reducing all his pupils to a dull mediocrity. He should remember that at the best he is an adviser, whose task is to encourage the child and co-operate with him.
​§ 5. Instinctive Behaviour and Moral Conduct. The simpler instincts tend to secure, at least at first, merely the physical safety of the individual to whom they belong. The animal's instincts are all directed to self-preservation. At a very early date the chick's instincts render it capable of taking care of itself. Its instincts end, as they began, in the tendency to self-preservation and the preservation of the race. The child's instincts are not so entirely self-preservative: they do not need to be so wholly directed to self-preservation. Its parents look after it for a relatively long period. Thus the child's instincts may be developed and moralised and extended to contribute to more comprehensive ends. They tend not merely to self-preservation, but to the realisation of all the capacities of the child, mental and moral as well as physical. As the child rises above the merely instinctive level, and develops conscious purposes, he comes to will his actions, and his behaviour becomes conduct. Instead of instinctively acting merely with a view to self-preservation, he forms definite purposes, directed to the complete realisation of his powers. His instinctive modes of behaviour are organised and developed to contribute to the comprehensive ends which he sets before himself as those which it is his duty to achieve in fulfilling his vocation. All that this gradual process of moralisation and organisation involves will be explained in subsequent chapters.
For further reading: G. F. Stout: Manual of Psychology, bk. iii. pt. i. ch. i.; W. M'Dougall: Social Psychology, ch. ii., iii., x.-xiv.; C. Lloyd Morgan: Instinct and Experience, ch. i.-iv.
* ↑ Instinct has been defined by Prof. Lloyd Morgan as "that which is on its first occurrence independent of prior experience; which tends to the well-being and preservation of the race, which is similarly performed by all the members of the same more or less restricted group of animals, and which may be subject to subsequent modification under the guidance of experience."
* ↑ Hobhouse: Mind in Evolution, p. 87.
* ↑ M'Dougall: Social Psychology, p. 61.
* ↑ M'Dougall: Social Psychology, p. 267.
* ↑ Ibid. p. 269.
* ↑ James: Principles of Psychology.
* ↑ Cf. Burnet: Aristotle on Education, p. 66.