[ p. 159 ]
THE discussion of the nature of authority in the Church has passed through two phases and is entering upon a third. The first phase was the defence of an external and objective sanction, akin to the political belief in the Divine right of kings. The second has been the assertion of the responsibility of the individual, by whom authority must be accepted if it is to be valid. The third involves the discussion of the inherent character of group-life.
It is here that recent psychology has a definite contribution to make to the problem. The analysis of the group, in its primitive and in its more permanent and organized forms, shows that the development of the principle of authority is only another aspect of the development of personality. A comparison of the discussions of Le Bon and McDougall shows how the developed sanctions of organized groups, which raise the ethical autonomy of the individual to a higher level, rest upon, even while they transcend, the powerful and primitive ‘ herd-impulses,’ The difficulty of the problem of authority rests upon the confusion of these two aspects.
Freud has shown the importance of a still more fundamental question : What is the nature of the bond which links the group together ? Clearly this is personal, and thus the structure of the group is seen to depend upon the same principle which leads to the formation of the sentiments in the individual. In this connection the question of group-leadership is especially significant. In all groups there must be a leader, though the leadership may be expressed symbolically, whether through sacraments or otherwise. Freud’s own theory of the basis of this leadership is mythological, but his analysis provides the key to the essential structure of the group.
As applied to the Church this mode of approach enables us to reconcile, at least in principle, the two opposing views of authority from which we started. The basic principle of the Church is seen to be faith, developed through love. But this is not mere subjectivism, Faith is not individual but corporate, and it looks to Christ. And it is meaningless unless God, through Christ, is drawing man to himself.
[ p. 160 ]
[ p. 161 ]
That which we have seen and heard declare we unto you also, that ye also may have fellowship with us : yea, and our fellowship is with the Father, and with his Son Jesus Christ. i John i. 3.
‘ As to the affairs of conscience and eternal salvation, ’ wrote Bishop Hoadly, ‘ Christ hath left no visible, human authority behind Him.’
‘ My Lord,’ replied William Law,‘ is not this saying, that He has left no authority at all ? For Christ came with no other authority Himself: but as to conscience and salvation, He erected a kingdom, which related to nothing but conscience and salvation ; and therefore they who have no authority as to conscience and salvation, have no authority at all in His kingdom. Conscience and salvation are the only affairs of that kingdom.
‘ Your Lordship denies that any one has authority in these affairs ; and yet you take it ill to be charged with asserting that Christ hath not invested any one with authority for Him. How can any one act for Him but in His kingdom ? How can they act in His kingdom if they have nothing to do with conscience and salvation, when His kingdom is concerned with nothing else ? . . .
‘ Your Lordship thinks this is sufficiently answered, by saying you contend against an absolute authority . . . but, my Lord, it is still true, that you have taken all authority from the Church : for the reasons you everywhere give against this authority, conclude as strongly against any degree of authority, as that which is truly absolute.’ [1]
[ p. 162 ]
Hoadly’s plea that individual sincerity is all that God asks was easily answered by Law :—
‘ You are as strictly obliged to allow that man to be sincere who mistakes the grounds and principles of true sincerity, because he thinks himself to be sincere, as to allow that person to be justified in his religion, who mistakes the true religion, because he thinks himself in the true religion.’ [2]
Thus faithfully dealt the Non- juror with the dangerous Bishop of Bangor. Law’s Defence of Church Principles has become a classic, while Hoadly held, mainly in absentia, four bishoprics, and is to-day unread. [3] But who, looking at the Church of to-day, could say which of the two was on the winning side ? No reader of Law’s letters can question their devastating effectiveness, and yet it still remains true that the principles for which Hoadly contended are among the most vital forces in modern religious development. His case held some truth at least that was more than his arguments.
These quotations from one passage-at-arms in an agelong controversy will serve the purpose of throwing into relief the issues which are raised in connection with the problem of the relation between the Church and the individual Christian. The technical discussion of that problem is no part of the design of these lectures. All that we can attempt is a brief survey and then we may turn to the humbler task of enquiring whether the researches of modern psychology cast any light upon the nature of the Church and of that religious authority which it unquestionably exercises over its members.
Historically the discussion has passed through two main phases, and is now entering upon a third. The first phase, beginning in New Testament times and continuing, though not without modification, to the present day, has been the defence of external and objective sanctions. Down to the [ p. 163 ] Reformation it was the unquestioned belief of all Christians that the Church, with its obligations of faith and practice, rested upon an ordinance of Christ. The authority vested in the system was thus derivative from its source. ‘ Nothing could be further,’ wrote Canon Mason, ‘ from the mind of all early Christendom, whether Catholic or otherwise, than the idea that each Christian was an independent unit responsible only to God for what he did and for the views which he expressed.’ [4] ‘ The mild anarchy of early Christianity is a figment of modern imaginations.’ [5] This recognition that all authority is of God, and that it is mediated through Christ and in His Church, is as fundamental to the charismatic ministry of the prophets as to the ordered development of the monarchical episcopate. There is no trace of any confusion of the issue by the suggestion that the group, or society, or Church, may exercise an influence through its own inherent group-nature, and that this influence is very hard to distinguish in its effects from the sanctions of an external authority. That the authority of the Church rests upon the command and purpose of Christ, recorded in the Gospels and vested in a living tradition, is a belief common to Cyprian, Optatus, and Augustine, to Wycliffe and Calvin, to William Law, and to the advocates whether of Papal infallibility, or of schemes for reunion in South India. So little question was there of the nature of this authority that political and ecclesiastical theory went hand in hand. ‘ The powers that be are ordained of God.’ [6] The famous ‘ No bishop, no king ’ of James I was no barren jest. In the last resort it was true that the spiritual authority of bishops and the Divine right of kings were, in principle, the same.
With the political upheavals of the Reformation the second phase of the discussion began in earnest. It need not be questioned that the direct allegiance of the individual [ p. 164 ] believer to Christ has been recognized in every period when religion has been a living power in the world. But the appeal of George Fox and the Quakers to the guidance of the ‘ Inner Light,’ of Bishop Hoadly to individual sincerity, or of the Free Churchman to the right of private judgment, breathes the spirit of the modern democratic revolution, which vests authority in the individual members of the State, and seeks anxiously, and with but very moderate success, for means whereby to make popular representative government effective. We look in vain for such a spirit in earlier times. When Hort, in his lectures on the Christian Ecclesia, argued that the ‘ ill-defined but lofty authority ’ wielded by the Apostles ‘ in matters of government and administration ’ was merely moral in character, resting upon ‘ the spontaneous homage of the Christians ’ of their day, and that the New Testament shows ‘ no trace of a formal commission of authority for government from Christ Himself.’ [7] he drew, at least by implication, a dangerous inference from a half-truth. The early Christians, apart possibly from a few Montanists, were no Modernists, claiming the right to be a law unto themselves. [8] whether in the name of reason or in the name of a special inspiration. Their homage was indeed spontaneous, because they were utterly, and without self-consciousness, part of a living and growing Church. There was no William James, or Bergson, or Bertrand Russell to preach to them of the supreme and creative values of their own individual personalities. They could not have understood why anybody should wish to make proclamation of ‘ A Free Man’s Worship,’ This view of the spirit of the early [ p. 165 ] Church is not in the least affected by Canon Streeter’s recent researches into the vagaries of administration through which order was gradually reached. [9] Such vagaries were a matter of life and growth. Neither individual Christian nor local Church was conscious of self in the sophisticated modern way.
Nevertheless the awakening, in the seventeenth century, of interest in the true status and significance of the individual has affected the problem of the nature of the Church at least as profoundly as it has affected political theory. We have only to turn to one or two recent vindications of the authority of the Church to see how the individual has come into his own. It is a symptom of the times, theologically speaking, that Dr. Rawlinson should recently have delivered Paddock Lectures with the title of Authority and Freedom, in which the whole stress is laid upon the development of the individual response in faith to the objective claims of goodness and of God. External authority, whether in Church or State, is to be reduced to the very barest minimum. The one appeal is to be that of a loving service. Dr. Rawlinson borrows from Heiler [10] the moving picture of the Papa angelico that might be, going forth from the Vatican in the habit and the spirit of a new St. Francis and winning a world ‘ not by selfassertive insistence upon the authority of Christ, and not by the assumption of spiritual or temporal power, but solely in virtue of humility and utter discipleship to Christ.’ [11] To such an authority, says Heiler, man might indeed respond. But the response would be a response of free love, utterly unlike the self-assertiveness of that [ p. 166 ] lawless, if often amiable, individualism, which has brought confusion upon the Church, and is like to bring ruin upon our modern civilization.
Canon Quick [12] has challenged the practicability of such a vision, but upon grounds rather pessimistic than ultimate. He sees no final and absolute authority save that which man is under an obligation to accept, and this obligation is the obligation of reason and conscience. For ‘ absolute authority is nothing else than the claim made upon us by absolute value,’ and it is through reason and conscience that the absolute values of truth and goodness are apprehended. The authority of persons, institutions, or doctrines is secondary, and must rest upon our belief that reason and conscience require our obedience. That this authority of reason and conscience must in fact be exercised through Church or State does not alter its essentially individual character. Canon Quick questions this emphasis, dreading individualism in politics as much as he dislikes, in philosophy, Troeltsch’s doctrine of polymorphous truth. And he is clearly right in pointing out that nothing can be recognized as conscientious or rational which is not ‘ in some sense felt to be of universal authority and application.’ But when he appeals to the facts of history and experience as constituting the main case of Socialism in politics and Catholicism in religion, his opinion, in itself based upon an individual and private judgment, is in no real conflict with the view that the object of all authority should be freedom. ‘ If we identify absolute authority with the obligation imposed by absolute value … we find that in principle authority does not conflict with freedom at all, but rather implies it. It is far more strongly opposed to compulsion than to liberty.’ It is an authority which is of God, because the existence of absolute values depends upon the [ p. 167 ] being of God, but each man must judge and accept it for himself. ‘ He must use his reason and conscience to check and criticise every message or command which purports to come even from God Himself.’ And ‘ even though the inward authority which a man takes for his reason or conscience does make mistakes, he must nevertheless treat it as infallible,’ We are not far from Hoadly’s much-abused doctrine of individual sincerity once again.
Rather a different turn is given to the discussion in the latest defence of Anglo-Catholicism. [13] Mr. Knox and Mr. Milner- White say quite frankly that ‘ the second authority in Christianity is, and always must be, the private judgment of the individual,’ [14] ‘ No “ authority ” in the sense of an ecclesiastical system with a fixed set of beliefs can ever get rid of the need for an act of private judgment which will accept the claims of the system.’ [15] But here the reconciliation between the two aspects of authority is not found in a philosophy of absolute values, but simply and directly in personal relationships. ‘ The ultimate authority in the Christian religion, if by the word " authority “ we mean ” that which gives us reason for believing,’ is the Person of Christ.’ [16] It is not a teaching or a tradition about Him, but a living and direct relationship, into which men enter through the living fellowship of the Church. Thus authority is seen to be simply and directly inherent in the life of the social group, and it arises spontaneously and freely just in so far as the social group is a spontaneous and free manifestation of the natural development of personal life. The real basis of every association, as Bishop Strong has pointed out, is friendship, and ‘ all the higher possibilities of man’s existence emerge [ p. 168 ] through his social character.’ [17] ‘ Authority is one outward form which the claim of the race upon the individual may take : it is a function of the social nature of man.’ [18]
We are doing no injustice to modern tendencies of thought when we take such statements as characteristic of the modern defence of the principle of authority. Whether the argument will issue in a peaceable acceptance of the existing order, or in a libertarianism which justifies itself by an appeal to that better order which is to be, is largely a matter of individual choice and temperament. There has ever been need for radical and conservative in the State, for prophet and priest in the Church, But the essential argument remains the same. And since it is an argument which depends upon the analysis of human nature [ p. 169 ] and not upon the existence of absolute objective standards, whether revealed or self-authenticated, it at once raises the question ot the special character of religious authority. Can we find here, as we have found in other aspects of human life, any indication that the ancient claim of the Church is true, and that in the end all authority, and not religious authority only, is no mere by-product of human life, but an expression, however broken and imperfect, of that love whereby the Creator draws His creatures to Himself ?
We can set our problem in the clearest light by the aid of a further quotation from Bishop Strong : ‘ Authority is, in the Church, a concrete effect or embodiment of the fundamental principle of its social unity. The fact that men have the tendency to unite involves the principle of authority ; and the real claim of the authority to command lies in the necessary social character of men. The revelation in Christ of a still deeper unity in mankind, the admission of men through Him into the closest union with God, gives to the authority of the spiritual society a more august, more commanding power ; but it is, we may say, the same in kind.’ [19] Granting this, and few reasonable people will be disposed to dispute it, what defence can be given of the special claim of the Church to a peculiar authority, arising ‘ out of its peculiar relation to God through Christ ’ ? [20] There is no doubt of the claim :—
The peculiarity of the Church as a society of men, is that by it men are admitted into fellowship with God. . . . That this is achieved only through Christ is beyond all doubt the doctrine of the New Testament. Nor is there any sign of an expectation that an individual could attain this result except by becoming a member of the Body of Christ. . . . The case of the individual who calls himself a Christian but stands outside the Body is, we may safely say, entirely absent from the New Testament. [21]
[ p. 170 ]
But similar claims are inherent in other religious systems, and the direct defence of Christianity appears at first sight to involve us in a circular argument from which there is no refuge. It cannot satisfy us to vindicate the authority of the tradition and the system on the ground of Scripture, and the authority of Scripture on the ground of the tradition and the system.
There are three ways of escape. We may point to the living and historical experience of the Church as embodying values which transcend those embodied in any other social expression of human development. Or we may follow out Canon Quick’s reasoning in exposition of the objectivity of the standards of truth and goodness, and so argue from philosophy to Christ as the supreme vindication of those standards upon the plane of history. Or we may turn to the more careful analysis of the personal relationships involved in the very existence of human societies, and see whether these are complete and self-explanatory, or whether they bear the marks of a process in which both the individual and the social group find their consummation in the Kingdom of God.
The last of these alternatives is that with which we are now concerned, and in its discussion we come to the third and most recent phase of the controversies as to the nature of authority, the phase in which the inherent character of group-life is analysed upon biological and psychological lines. Obviously we cannot expect to establish upon this basis a proof of the special claims of Christianity, or even to secure theistic belief beyond all contradiction. But if we can show that these claims and this belief form the natural climax of processes displayed in the natural order of animal and human life, we have gone far towards the vindication of a faith which can never, to the end, be the same thing as knowledge. Christianity asks no more than a free field for faith.
[ p. 171 ]
It is here that recent psychology has its definite contribution to make to the problem. It has sometimes appeared indeed that this contribution is negative and destructive, reducing all authority to the mere pressure of the so-called herd-instinct, and relegating reason and conscience to a secondary place, but those who take such a view fail to realize the full significance of the development of the herd-instinct in human life, and its transformation through the herd-sentiment into love. For in love authority and freedom, reason and goodness, meet.
The beginning of this last and most critical phase in the discussion of the problem of authority was marked by the apparently irrelevant circumstance of Galton’s visit to South Africa in 1851. [22] His observations upon the curious power of the gregarious impulse in the Damara oxen [23] paved the way for the long series of studies by naturalists and psychologists, who have drawn freely from animal and insect life to illustrate the strange, primitive, and nonrational influence which the group seems, by its own inherent nature, to exercise over its members. The recent studies of Trotter, [24] McDougall, [25] and others have firmly established this herd-instinct as fundamental to human behaviour, and its relation to the moral and rational aspects of that behaviour has been freely discussed. On the descriptive side the work has now been carried through with some completeness. ‘ Crowd-psychology ’ has become an established term of current speech. The art of the demagogue is being transformed into a science. Themistocles and Cleon are at school in Harley Street, and, unless religion can hold its own, the world bids fair to evolve politicians no more scrupulous and far more dangerous than Athens, Westminster, or even Moscow, have ever known. [ p. 172 ] But description and explanation are very different matters. Some popular presentations of modern psychology might well lead us to ask whether man is indeed better than oxen. That there is an irrational element in the behaviour of the crowd is obvious enough, nor is this in any way a new discovery. But to attempt to reduce all the sanctions of the social order, of Church and State alike, to this basal, instinctive factor is to ignore all that is most characteristic of man. The problem of authority cannot be solved without some reference to reason, to freedom, and to the moral values.
Nevertheless this contribution from the side of animal psychology has done much to clear the ground. It is now possible to see that authority, like every other expression of human life, is not something simple, fixed, and always the same. It has a lower and a higher, a growth from primitive, hardly human, beginnings to the glorious liberty of the sons of God. There are compulsions in the lives of men that are not far removed from the blind necessities of animal instinct, and these compulsions form the actual sphere within which the higher authority develops, coming upon them as it were from without, and so enabling man to find at once his freedom, his dignity, and himself. The transformation is utterly inexplicable if we look simply to instinct itself. No interplay of instinctive compulsions explains the autonomy of the developed human life. The interaction of the group and its members is no mechanism, but living and creative, and unless we regard it as proceeding from a Reality that is living and creative we make no sense of it. There is room here, and more than room, for the hypothesis of a God.
Perhaps the first modern writer to draw the threads together, showing that the ecclesiastical discussion of the nature of authority and the biological description of the social group with its non-rational compulsions form parts [ p. 173 ] of a single problem, was Lord Balfour, whose Foundations of Belief, first published in 1895, marks the transition to a psychological treatment of the whole subject. Few writings of recent times have so altered the trend of discussion as his short chapter on ‘ Authority and Reason,’ [26] Here, to the dismay of the philosophers, who have, indeed, been loud in their objections, [27] authority is throughout contrasted with reason, and the term is used as standing ‘ for that group of non-rational causes, moral, social, and educational, which produces its results by psychic processes other than reasoning.’ [28] Balfour’s description of what he terms ‘ psychological climates ’ is more than convincing. [29] It is an obvious fact that in any given period and social order a whole world of beliefs and sanctions lies utterly beyond the reach of criticism. Philosophers give different reasons for the wrongness of murder, but they arrive with a curious certainty at the same result. [30] Ethical systems are obscure, complex, and hotly, disputed, and yet, in any given social group, men walk with assurance and in harmony over wide fields of human conduct. Custom holds far more strongly than any consciously accepted or rationally defended law of God or man.
Nor is it strictly accurate to say that we accept many of our beliefs because we recognize that others, our teachers, our family, our neighbours, ‘ are truthful persons, happy in the possession of adequate means of information,’ [31] The conscious recognition of the dependence of our beliefs and obligations upon the prestige or knowledge of others is but a very small part of the truth. ‘ Early training, [ p. 174 ] parental authority, and public opinion, were causes of belief before they were reasons ; they continued to act as nonrational causes after they became reasons ; and it is not improbable that to the very end they contributed less to the resultant conviction in their capacity as reasons than they did in their capacity as non-rational causes.’ [32] There is, in fact, inherent in the very nature of the group a power of constraining its members which is prior to all consciously accepted authorities, religious, political, or social, and until this power has been appraised and understood all attempts to deal with the problem of authority must necessarily be superficial and self-contradictory. For in the earlier phases of the discussion the individual and the group stood over against one another, with the concept of God loosely formulated in a relationship very uncertainly apportioned between the two. Theories of social contracts and of Divine sanctions and rights were thus inevitable, and inevitably unsatisfactory. [33] In actual life the individual and the group are not and have never been thus separate. Both develop together in a single complex unity, primitive, personal, and unquestioned. And as each successive child grows into the discovery of his own personality, so and by the same stages he grows into the discovery of his groupenvironment, and with that twofold growth the implicit and non-rational sanctions of the group-life, as necessary and as unchallenged as the air the child must breathe, develop into the rational and moral sanctions of the social order, within which alone the spirit of man is free.
[ p. 175 ]
The study of the group is inevitable for psychology, since the behaviour of man is at every point related to the various groups of which he is a member. It is only by the most drastic abstraction that he can be considered in isolation, and such consideration is more proper to physiology than to psychology. Even the behaviour of a Robinson Crusoe has far more reference to the social order from which he has been sundered, and to which he hopes to return, than to the immediate and transient ends of his island life. And if psychology must thus borrow freely from sociology and political science for its understanding of the individual, it makes ample repayment, since it is upon an understanding of the individual that the wider study of his corporate life must rest. So alone can we be delivered from such unreal and misleading fictions as the ‘ economic man,’ the ‘ ordinary citizen,’ and the ‘ modern woman,’ or ‘ the social will,’ ‘ the collective consciousness,’ and ‘ public opinion,’ Nor have the terms ‘ Church ’ and ‘ State ’ any more meaning unless we take full account of the individuals of which they are composed and of the fact that these associations arise from the needs and possibilities inherent in the individual life. And to say this is not to deny that all ultimate authority may be of God, since it is in Him alone that such possibilities have at once their source and their fulfilment.
The primary fact, upon which all else depends, is the fact of the existence of the group itself. And here we have to enquire at the very outset into the exact process by which the group is formed, for even a crowd, casual and temporary as it is, is something more than a large number of people in a restricted area. [34] An individual in a London street may be utterly unrelated to the hundreds of people about him. And when we come to a descriptive analysis of the various types of group, ranging from the accidental [ p. 176 ] and unorganized crowd to the most complex and permanent social structures, we find an exact parallel to the development of personality in the individual. There is everywhere the same striking appearance of Otherness, of a creative impulsion which comes upon man from without. From the first shock cf attention to some street accident, or fire-bell, or passing show, through which the crowd is born, up to the broadest of the creative ends which mould the ordering of human history, the whole story of group development reveals the group looking to that which lies beyond itself, drawn ever upwards and onwardss, creativetyand inexplicably. And just as in the individual there s a strange resistance to this growth, a the tendency to ek static security instead of living adventure, das Ich looking back longingly, like Lot’s wife, to das Es, in which is peace, and death, [35] so in the organized group we see this saiie tendency to seek persistence instead of life, to look to lie good in past and present, to refuse the creative work whenn Reality reveals itself as more and not less than man.
The characteristics of the simple crowd have been well described by Le Bon. [36] It produces in those who form it a singular transformation both of conduct and of feeling.
However like or unlike be their mode of life, their occupations, their character, or their intelligence, the fiict that they b-ive been transformed into a crowd puts them in possession of a sort of collective mind which makes them feel, think, and act in a manner quite different from that in which each individual of them would feel, think, and act were he in a state of isolation. There are certain ideas and feelings which do not ome into being, or do not transform themselves into acts excejt in the case of individuals forming a crowd. [37]
These are explained as arising through the -release of the powerful unconscious motives which underlie our [ p. 177 ] individually acquired personalities. [38] In the sheer pressure of the crowd the individual is lost, ordinary, rational selfcontrol is in abeyance, and the average racial type comes into view. There appear, further, certain special characteristics. The sense of personal responsibility vanishes, since the numbers and the anonymity of the crowd allow to each of its members a free satisfaction of ‘ instincts which had he been alone he would perforce have kept under restraint.’ [39]2 There is a curious contagion or suggestibility, swaying the individual members of the crowd with a compulsion which at times becomes completely irresistible. ‘ In a crowd every sentiment and act is contagious, and contagious to such an extent that an individual readily sacrifices his personal interest to the collective interest.’ [40] ‘ He is no longer conscious of his acts. In his case, as in the case of the hypnotised subject, at the same time that certain faculties are destroyed, others may be brought to a high degree of exaltation. Under the influence of a suggestion, he will undertake the accomplishment of certain acts with irresistible impetuosity. This impetuosity is the more irresistible in the case of crowds than in that of the hypnotised subject, from the fact that, the suggestion being the same for all the individuals of the crowd, it gains in strength by reciprocity.’ [41]
Most striking of all is the reversion of the crowd to primitive types of behaviour, far below the level of the individuals which compose it. ‘ By the mere fact that he forms part of an organised crowd, a man descends several rungs in the ladder of civilisation. Isolated, he may be a [ p. 178 ] cultivated individual ; in a crowd, he is a barbarian that is, a creature acting by instinct. He possesses the spontaneity, the violence, the ferocity, and also the enthusiasm and heroism of primitive beings.’ [42] The picture is familiar enough to any reader of history, and we need not stay to complete it in detail. The behaviour of the individual who has come under the influence of a crowd is that of a primitive savage, or of a child. There may be in it something of the impulsive tenderness of childhood, something of the swift generosity and heroism of the savage, but even the exaltation of the crowd lacks the true and controlled autonomy of the individual at his highest, and the summary given by McDougall is entirely justified :
We may sum up the psychological characters of the unorganised or simple crowd by saying that it is excessively emotional, impulsive, violent, fickle, inconsistent, irresolute and extreme in action, displaying only the coarser emotions and the less refined sentiments ; extremely suggestible, careless in deliberation, hasty in judgment, incapable of any but the simpler and imperfect forms of reasoning ; easily swayed and led, lacking in self -consciousness, devoid of self-respect and of sense of responsibility, and apt to be carried away by the consciousness of its own force, so that it tends to produce all the manifestations we have learned to expect of any irresponsible and absolute power. Hence its behaviour is like that of an unruly child or an untutored passionate savage in a strange situation, rather than like that of its average member ; and in the worst cases it is like that of a wild beast, rather than like that of human beings. [43]
Freud is clearly right when he points out that we must not be content with this description of crowd behaviour. [44] It is not in the least adequate to say that the sheer pressure of the crowd, its strength of numbers, in which the individual at once feels himself omnipotent and at the same time [ p. 179 ] freed from all danger of being called to account, and the noise and haste which overrides all the slower processes of reason, are in themselves sufficient to explain the transformation which it works upon its members. The contagion of which Le Bon speaks is doubtless closely akin to the effects of the herd-instinct, as seen in the animal world, but this is not the whole story. The parallel with hypnotic states in itself suggests that we must look to something more specifically characteristic of man if we would understand this strange possibility of reversion to the primitive and the childish. We are dealing throughout with a problem of personality, and it is in terms of living and growing personality that the special phenomenon of the crowd must be explained. And we shall do well to remember that the unorganized, or disorganized, crowd is, comparatively speaking, a rare phenomenon, at any rate in its extremer forms. The social group as we know it always shows some degree, however slight, of organization, and it will simplify our problem if we examine some of the features of more complex groups before we attempt to interpret the significance of the crowd itself. For the complex group is highly characteristic of human life, and it may well be that the crowd, as described by Le Bon, is very far from being the simple material out of which the complex group is formed, and that its true analogy is not with the primitive and the childish, but rather with a disturbance or even a neurotic disorder in an adult and normally sane individual. McDougall has laid down five conditions [45] as ‘ of principal importance in raising collective mental life to a higher level than the unorganised crowd can reach, no matter how homogeneous the crowd may be in ideas and sentiments, nor how convergent the ideas and volitions of its members,’ It is noteworthy that although, as he says, these ‘ favour and render possible the formation of a [ p. 180 ] group mind,’ they are in themselves merely descriptive of some of the general characteristics of human society. They do not explain how they arise or how they operate in moulding either the group itself or its members.
The first condition is some degree of permanence in the group.
The continuity may be predominantly material or formal, that is to say, it may consist either in the persistence of the same individual as an inter-communicating group, or in the persistence of the system of generally recognised positions each of which is occupied by a succession of individuals. Most permanent groups exhibit both forms of continuity in a certain degree ; for, the material continuity of a group being given, some degree of formal continuity will commonly be established within it.
In any highly developed group, such as a Church or a nation, it is clear that both forms of continuity are always strongly marked.
The second condition is ‘ that in the minds of the mass of the members of the group there shall be formed some adequate idea of the group, of its nature, composition, functions, and capacities, and of the relations of the individuals to the group,’ The importance of this is that ‘ as with the idea of the individual self, a sentiment of some kind almost inevitably becomes organised about this idea and is the main condition of its growth in richness of meaning ; a sentiment for the group which becomes the source of emotions and of impulses to action having for their objects the group and its relations to other groups.’
The third condition is ‘ interaction (especially in the form of conflict and rivalry) of the group with other similar groups animated by different ideals and purposes, and swayed by different traditions and customs.’
The fourth is ‘ the existence of a body of traditions and customs and habits in the minds of the members of [ p. 181 ] the group determining their relations to one another and to the group as a whole.’
The fifth is the ‘ organisation of the group, consisting in the differentiation and specialisation of the functions of its constituents individuals and classes of individuals within the group,’ This may be based upon tradition and custom, or ‘ it may be in part imposed on the group and maintained by the authority of some external power.’
Freud has pointed out [46] that in this description of the organization of the group McDougall is in effect seeking to equip the group with the characteristics of the individual, which had been submerged in the crowd, and McDougall toys dangerously with the highly mythological conceptions of the collective consciousness [47] and collective will. [48] It is more relevant to our purpose, and more relevant to a true understanding of the function of all society, to note that these five characteristics are those whereby society secures to the individual his full dignity and responsibility. It is [ p. 182 ] precisely because the individual has a certain permanence and ends which he seeks in common with his fellows that the structural organization comes into existence, with its interrelations of mutual service and its complexities of greater and lesser social groups, thus making possible his separate and personal achievement of purposes which would be utterly unattainable to him in isolation. The student of the group, be it State, or Church, or some lesser institution, such as a college or school, is always in danger of believing that the group is the true object of his study. By his very attention to it it secures an interest of its own, which is readily mistaken for an entity, and the elemental fact that it only exists in its living members tends to be forgotten. Yet when the members are taken away all that remains is embodied in stones and statutes, as truly dead as their predecessors, the idols of past religions and the ruined relics of forgotten cultures.
A far more fruitful line of approach to the analysis of group life is to be found in the suggestion made by Trotter, who noted that groups, both in animals and in man, may be distinguished as either peaceful and defensive, or as aggressive. [49] The bitter political feeling which disfigures his discussion must not blind us to the importance of this mode of treatment. For here the purpose or end of the group-structure is seen as fundamental and, though the nature of that end is viewed crudely enough as consisting in the biological preservation of the species, a wider extension of the method can readily be made. It is, indeed, a matter for surprise that McDougall, who has come to stress the purposive character of the instincts and the distinctive importance of the ends which they serve, [50] has not made an adequate application of this principle in dealing with the group. We are entirely at liberty to turn it to our own [ p. 183 ] use and to claim that the only true end of the social organism is to be found in the fullest development of individual personality. But though society can and should accept that end, it cannot, even when it takes the form of a Church, predetermine the direction of that development. There is a widespread social theory, most vividly expressed in modern Russia, but by no means unknown elsewhere, that the State should decide upon the type of citizen most useful to its ends, and should mould all its institutions and its educational system with a view to the production of this type. Nothing could be more completely subversive of the true function of the State. Such a view presupposes an end and an entity of the State other than those of its members. It regards that end as fixed and therewith denies the creative possibilities of personal life. It makes true education an impossibility. And, which is most serious for itself, it must in the last resort be at war with the living God. But if our view is right the true analysis of the State and the true psychology of the individual are quite inseparable. Both take their place in the system of the sentiments, through which the person comes to his full stature. For love and faith are not only individual but corporate. The crude suggestibility characteristic of the crowd has already within itself the seeds of faith. [51] In ordered and responsible citizenship we see this faith shaped and developed, and it is not difficult to trace the influence of love as the one constructive factor in that development. And this love is not simply the love of man, or of that elusive entity which we term the State. The true being and strength of the State are indeed to be found in the love and faith of its members. But if the State is to live and grow this love and faith must be directed not primarily to the State itself, in a patriotism which is in the end self-consuming and self-destructive, but to the creative Reality which lies [ p. 184 ] beyond and to which our finite being is ever drawn. So is that which is explicit but imperfect in the Church implicit in the State as well. So at the last shall Church and State both be one, and both cease to be, in the fulness and perfect freedom of the Kingdom of God.
The whole difficulty of the problem of authority, from which we started, is that in all group-life, and not least in the life of the Church, this higher authority of a living creative purpose is bound up with the instinctive compulsions of the elementary herd impulse. In our quest for the liberty of the Kingdom of God we are always members of human societies, and often members of a mere temporary crowd, and the sanctions and impulses proper to such membership are strong upon us. And sometimes it is hard to say whether we are being held, like children, under the sheer compulsion of the crowd or the tradition, or whether some higher purpose has made us and the group its own and is moulding both to some fulfilment beyond our vision.
Here we may find real help in the acute analysis which Freud has applied to Le Bon’s description of the crowd. At the very outset he asks a question which is as pertinent to the most elementary beginnings of crowd-formation as to the complex and persistent social structures. ‘ If the individuals in the group are combined into a unity, there must surely be something to unite them, and this bond might be precisely the thing that is characteristic of a group.’ He points out, rightly enough, that neither Le Bon nor McDougall really answers this question. [52] The latter, it is true, stresses the importance of the leader as the means by which the action of the crowd becomes consistent, effective, and controlled. [53] The leader must have qualities which fit him for his task, and this becomes more and more true as the group becomes more and more [ p. 185 ] organized. ‘ If a people is to become a nation it must be capable of producing personalities of exceptional powers, who will play the part of leaders ; and the special endowments of the national leader require to be more pronounced and exceptional, of a higher order, than those required for the exercise of leadership over a fortuitous crowd.’ [54] But McDougall appears to view this appearance of the leader almost entirely as a biological or racial phenomenon. He discusses the matter in terms of cranial capacity and development, and seems almost to suggest that the occurrence of a Mahomet or a Napoleon, a Shakespeare, a Newton, or a Ruskin, is an accident, immense in its results but in itself unpredictable and unexplained. [55] Two questions at once cry out for an answer. What is the significance of the faith which such leaders inspire, faith which is something far more than the primitive suggestibility of the crowd ? And what is the true source of the ideals and purposes which they express ? For though in some cases their genius seems to attain nothing more than some racial end already seen and struggling for fulfilment, and in some cases they actually, by some material achievement, stultify and degrade the ideals of those who follow, there again and again appear men in whom is born a new vision and a new splendour of hope and love which is stronger than success and transforms the lives of men with a power and a peace which passes understanding.
To the first of these questions Freud has given an answer in terms of his own psychological theory, [56] and though his [ p. 186 ] history appears to be untrue and his psychology incomplete, he has perhaps done more than any other writer to place the problem of the group, and therewith the problem of authority, in its proper proportion and setting. His theory can be stated very shortly. He connects the whole structure of the group with the development of the emotional ties which are characteristic of the family. It is a problem, as he says, of libido, and we have only to refuse his unnecessary limitation of this term, a limitation which he himself sometimes repudiates, [57] to find his theory in harmony with an entirely Christian emphasis upon love. ‘ Love relationships,’ he says explicitly, ‘ constitute the essence of the group mind.’ [58] It is unnecessary to introduce at this point, as he does, the entirely mythological conception of the primitive horde, with its band of brothers forced into equality by the strength of the father. [59] All that his theory needs is the sufficient fact that the family is, for practically every individual, the basis of his wider group life. The personal relationships which exist naturally in the close intimacy of the family are the first sphere within which the instinctive life is built up into the permanent dispositions of the adult personality. All true national life must have within it a principle of brotherhood which is directly based upon the simple equalities, the friendships and rivalries, of the child. And similarly all leadership has inherent in it something of the relationship of father to child, and the true national leader is rightly termed the Father of his people.
It is thus that Freud explains the strange semi-hypnotic influence which the group, especially in moments of primitive impulse, exercises upon its members. It is due to the awakening of what he calls the ‘ libidinal tie,’ the intensely strong emotions inherent in the childish response to the [ p. 187 ] father’s authority and love. [60] And this is the basis, further, of their essential equality, which is not merely arithmetical but personal. The common relation to the love of the leader drives them to identify themselves ideally with him, and so with one another. They have ‘ substituted one and the same object for their ideal ego, and have consequently identified themselves with one another in their ego.’ [61] ‘ Many individuals, who can identify themselves with one another, and a single person superior to them all that is the situation that we find realised in groups which are capable of subsisting,’ [62] The group demands, and must have, a leader, and it is through the leader that the loverelationship of the family becomes the key to the wider relationships of the group-life. We find, in fact, the continuance of the principle of sentiment-formation, which is so closely akin to the Christian principle of faith made perfect in love.
It can hardly be accident that Freud, sceptic and determinist as he is, has seen in the Christian Church the supreme example of group-formation. It is true that he declares it to rest upon an illusion, but that is strangely called an illusion which is drawn from the fundamental necessities of human life, and we must acknowledge, even though it be with wonder, the insight and sympathy of his account of Christianity. It would be well for the Church if all Christians understood their own fellowship as clearly as this would-be critic of their faith.
In a Church the illusion holds good of there being a head who loves all the individuals in the group with an equal love. . . . This equal love was expressly enunciated by Christ : ‘ Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me,’ He stands to the individual [ p. 188 ] members of the group of believers in the relation of a kind elder brother ; he is their father-surrogate. All the demands that are made upon the individual are derived from this love of Christ’s. A democratic character runs through the Church, for the very reason that before Christ everyone is equal, and that everyone has an equal share in his love. It is not without a deep reason that the similarity between the Christian community and a family is invoked, and that believers call themselves brothers in Christ, that is, brothers through the love which Christ has for them. There is no doubt that the tie which unites each individual with Christ is also the cause of the tie which unites them with each other. [63]
And even further :
Every Christian loves Christ as his ideal and feels himself united with all other Christians by the tie of identification. But the Church requires more of him. He has also to identify himself with Christ and love all other Christians as Christ loved them. At both points, therefore, the Church requires that the position of the libido which is given by a group formation should be supplemented. Identification has to be added where object-choice has taken place, and object-love where there is identification. This addition evidently goes beyond the constitution of the group. One can be a good Christian and yet be far from the idea of putting oneself in Christ’s place and of having like him an all-embracing love for all mankind. One need not think oneself capable, weak mortal that one is, of the Saviour’s largeness of soul and strength of love. But this further development in the distribution of libido in the group is probably the factor upon which Christianity bases its claim to have reached a higher ethical level. [64]
No Christian could wish to challenge such a description. Not only is it true, but we note at once that it passes far beyond the realm of illusion. Freud himself finds its key in what he terms ‘ object-choice ’ and ‘ object-love,’ and objects so chosen and loved may be misinterpreted, but they cannot be unreal. There may be mistakes in an [ p. 189 ] historical tradition, and mistakes in a description of reality, but such mistakes do not affect the ultimate existence of facts of history adequate to explain them, or of a reality which somebody has at least attempted to describe. As in our account of the development of personality through sentiments directed towards a personal object, so in our account of the development of the group and its members we move always in a real world. And if we call the truth of that reality by the name of God, and see in Christ the occasion of its historical expression among men, we are simply stating the Christian faith once more.
Strictly speaking, Freud’s analysis supplies an answer only to the first of the two questions which were suggested by McDougall’s account of the group leader. But we may easily see that we have also, in effect, gone far towards answering our second question, as to the source of the ideals and purposes which he embodies. At least it is now clear that no impersonal or mechanical explanation will suffice. We have already suggested that the most illuminating analysis of the various types of group is to be sought in a study of the ends which the group serves, and that those ends are individual and personal. The leader of the group is one in whom those ends find free and adequate expression. Such leadership may be of many kinds. It may be the direct action of one who takes the lead in some crisis. It may be one who in loneliness establishes an ideal unrecognized by his fellows until, long afterwards, some new world of achievement opens up and men know him for the pioneer that he was. Often such leadership will be expressed symbolically, in the flag of a people, or the creeds and sacraments of a Church. Sometimes men may even believe that they are linked in the service of some great abstract principle, an ideal embodied in some formula such as the ‘ freedom of conscience ’ or ‘ the rights of man,’ But always the abstract sentiment will be found, upon analysis, [ p. 190 ] to have a concrete and a personal basis. [65] The freedom of conscience means the freedom of particular consciences, and unless we have such particular consciences in mind, the formula does not hold our interest. The rights of man are the rights of men whom we know. Unless there are men, known to us, whose rights lack recognition, we cannot maintain the abstract proposition in any living sense.
Life, in short, as we see it, wears far more the appearance of a creative purpose moulding man, than of some measurable and finite biological end which man, by his institutions and groupings, seeks to achieve. Personal throughout, it seeks the fulfilment of personality. Purposes have no meaning in the abstract, and to speak of them as satisfied is a mere misuse of words unless the satisfaction of personal and purposive reality is implied. And thus the analysis of the group leads us again to the same conclusion as that which we reached from the analysis of the individual, with which, indeed, it is one. We have not demonstrated the existence of a God, but we have shown once more the central importance of the basic principles of faith and love, expressing themselves through ever widening purposes, made concrete in ever new leadership. And there ,is no explanation whatever of this creative factor in individual and social history unless we take the final step of faith, ‘ believing where we cannot prove,’ Creative love at least is real, and it is more than man. Need we mean more, or less, when we say that ‘ God is love ’ ?
If we apply this analysis to the Church we see at once that it enables us to reconcile, at least in principle, the two opposing views of authority from which we started. Clearly the Church is of God, and all authority in the Church is the expression of the love wherewith He fashions it for Himself. Institutions, ministries, priesthoods, sacraments, symbols, are the modes through which the power of that love is [ p. 191 ] mediated. They are the meeting place of God and man, and for the Christian they rest secure upon the Person of Jesus Christ. It is not simply that He instituted these things. To make that the final claim is to expose the basis of the Church to an historical criticism in which there can, in the very nature of criticism, be no finality. And the Church rests, not upon historical enquiry, but upon faith and love. But this is no mere subjectivism. Faith is not individual, and it is not self-creating. It is corporate, living, and personal, and it looks to Christ, because in Christ God awakened man’s response to His own love. It is the free response of each new individual soul, but that response is only possible as man through man comes to his own individual manhood. And through the changing and yet continuous fellowship and authority of the Church that manhood is moulded to the fashion of the manhood of Christ, in whom that fellowship was born and in whom it lives. ‘ We love Him, because He first loved us ’ the words are meaningless, spoken across the long spaces of history, if that love is nothing more than the love of man, meaningless unless by faith in Christ we make answer to the love of God, who, through Christ, draws all men to Himself.
William Law, Defence of Church Principles, pp. 62 f . (The references are to the 1893 edition, in The Westminster Library. The introduction to this edition gives a useful account of the ‘ Bangorian Controversy.’) ↩︎
Law, op. cit. p. 331. ↩︎
op. cit. p. 35. ↩︎
In The Early History of the Church and the Ministry (ed. Swete), p. 40. ↩︎
Op. cit. p. 43. ↩︎
Rom. xiii. i. ↩︎
Hort, The Christian Ecclesia, p. 84. ↩︎
Traces of this spirit certainly appear at Corinth (cf. i Cor. viii. i, g ; x. 23-30), but it is little more than general rebelliousness. The challenge to St. Paul’s authority comes from quite another side, and there is no attempt to found a theory of the Church upon such individualism. ↩︎
In The Primitive Church. The essential features of Streeter’s position have been recognized for some time, e.g. by C. H. Turner in his essay in The Early History of the Church and the Ministry, and by Rawlinson in Foundations, pp. 408 ff. ↩︎
Der Katholizismus seine Idee und seine Erscheinung, pp. 334-340. ↩︎
Rawlinson, Authority and Freedom, pp. 48-53. ↩︎
The quotations in this paragraph are from an article by Canon Quick in The Pilgrim for April 1925, entitled ‘ What is Authority ? ’ ↩︎
Knox and Milner- White, One God and Father of All, a reply to V. Johnson, One Lord, One Faith. ↩︎
Op. cit. p. 83. ↩︎
Op. cit. p. 84. ↩︎
Op. cit. p. 82. ↩︎
Strong, Authority in the Church, p. 9. The passage is worth quoting in full as illustrating the background of the modern psychological discussion : ‘ There is no question that, from the ethical point of view, men are related not only as independent rivals, but as friends. They have intercourse one with another in which their purposes are at one : they unite for various ends : they cannot, indeed, exist without combination. The individual, .as Aristotle said, is not aurdpicrjs : avrdpKeia, so far as that is ever achieved, comes by combination. Moreover, as life developes and becomes fuller, it appears that all the higher possibilities of man’s existence emerge through his social character. Even conscience itself could never attain any very lofty result or occupy any very wide range of man’s life except through the enlightenment which comes to it through the expenence of social evolution. . . . But this is only another way of saying that just in so far as man is really intended by nature to be moral, so far he must express himself in social forms. That is, society is not merely an accidental co-partnership between a number of individuals who have separate lives and purposes : it is the necessary atmosphere of moral life.’ So again the authority of reason depends ‘ on our confidence in a sense of unity ’ with those whom we trust in the field of knowledge (p. 35). We may add one further quotation to those made in the text of the lectures : ‘ If our previous arguments have been valid, the authority of the Church in matters of truth is paternal rather than judicial : it is exercised rather by persuasion and explanation and individual instruction than by quasi -legal judgments. . . . The authority of the Church is best declared by the vindication of its truth to the reason and consciences of men ; and this is best carried on by individual work amongst them, which is, after all, the method by which Christ and His Apostles laid the foundations of Christianity ’ (p. 132). ↩︎
Op. cit. p. 36. ↩︎
Strong, op. cit. p. 78. ↩︎
Op. cit. p. 79. ↩︎
Ibid. ↩︎
Galton, Narrative of an Explorer in Tropical South Africa. ↩︎
Galton, Inquiries into Human Faculty, p. 72. ↩︎
Trotter, The Instinct of the Herd in Peace and War. ↩︎
McDougall, The Group Mind ↩︎
Balfour, Foundations of Belief (1901 edn.), pp. 206 if. ↩︎
Op. cit. p. 244, where Balfour answers the objections of Pringle Pattison, defending his use of the word authority for ‘ those causes of belief which are not reasons and yet are due to the influence of mind on mind.’ Quick, in the article quoted above (p. 166), has also criticized the use of the term in this sense, while fully accepting the facts described. ↩︎
Op. cit. p. 232. ↩︎
Op. cit. pp. 218 ff. ↩︎
Op. cit. pp. 210 f. ↩︎
Op. cit. p. 233. ↩︎
Op. cit. p. 234. ↩︎
The recent theories of such writers as Durkheim and Lévy Bruhl come under the same criticism (see pp. 57 ff.) and do not concern us here. They do no justice to the significance of the individual, or to the organic inter-relationship of the development of the group and its members. Even for the earlier phases of this development the ‘ collective consciousness ’ of Levy Bruhl is not an adequate category. Still less does it cover such a conception of the Church even as that outlined by Freud : see pp. 187 f. ↩︎
Selbie, Psychology of Religion, p. 150 a curiously exact parallel to what I had, quite independently, written in the above paragraph. ↩︎
See p. 25. ↩︎
Le Bon,_ The Crowd : A Study of the Popular Mind_. ↩︎
Op. cit. p. 29 ; cf. Pratt, The Religious Consciousness, pp. 171 ff. ↩︎
Le Bon, op. cit. p. 30. ↩︎
Op. cit. p. 33. ↩︎
Ibid. ↩︎
Op. cit. p. 34. Le Bon goes on to define, as the principal characteristics of the individual who forms part of a crowd, ’ the disappearance of the conscious personality, the predominance of the unconscious personality, the turning by means of suggestion and contagion of feelings and ideas in an identical direction, the tendency to immediately transform the suggested ideas into acts ’ (p. 35). ↩︎
Le Bon, op. cit. p. 36. ↩︎
McDougall, The Group Mind, p. 45. ↩︎
Freud, Group Psychology and the Analysis of the Ego, p. 13. ↩︎
The Group Mind, pp. 49 f . ↩︎
Group Psychology and the Analysis of the Ego, p. 31. ↩︎
The Group Mind, pp. 31 ff. ; cf. pp. 70 ff. ↩︎
Op. cit. p. 53: ‘ The collective actions of the well-organised group . . . become truly volitional actions expressive of a high degree of intelligence and morality, much higher than that of the average member of the group i.e., the whole is raised above the level of its average member ; and even by reason of the exaltation of emotion and organised co-operation in deliberation above that of its highest members.’ This conveys no meaning to me at all. Such actions are surely carried out, and such emotions felt, by individuals and by individuals only. Nothing more can be meant than that individuals become capable of higher achievement in a developed social system. The system itself has neither will nor emotion. Bicknell, in Psychology and the Church, pp. 266 f., rightly stresses the effect of the group upon the individual, but still seems to hold that the collective will ‘ is more than the direction of the wills of all the individuals who compose it to the same end. Rather it is motived by impulses awakened within the sentiment for the whole to which they belong.’ But these impulses are still impulses actuating individuals, however closely they may be interrelated or welded into a social organism. Perhaps in this passage he is only echoing McDougall. In the following pages (pp. 278 ff.) he borrows from Miss Follett, The New State, a much more satisfying standpoint : ‘ The unit of society is the individual coming into being and functioning through groups of a more and more federated nature.’ ↩︎
This is the main thesis of his Instinct of the Herd in Peace and War. ↩︎
An Outline of Psychology, p. 119, and passim. ↩︎
See p. 90. ↩︎
Group Psychology and the Analysis of the Ego, p. 7. ↩︎
The Group Mind, p. 133. ↩︎
The Group Mind, p. 133. ↩︎
Op. cit. pp. 136-8. McDougall quotes the very interesting evidence given by Le Bon in his Psychological Laws of the Evolution of Peoples, where it is shown that a collection of skulls from one of the unprogressive races differs ‘ not so much in the smaller average size of the brain, as in the greater uniformity of size, that is to say, the absence of individuals of exceptionally large brains.’ ↩︎
In his Group Psychology and the Analysis of the Ego. Certain aspects of his theory are developed elsewhere, mainly in his Totem and Taboo. ↩︎
Freud, op. cit. p. 38. ↩︎
Op. cit. p. 40. ↩︎
Op. cit. pp. 90 flf. ↩︎
For the Freudian theory of hypnosis cf. E. Jones, Papers on Psychoanalysis, pp. 334 ff. ; Freud, Group Psychology and the Analysis of the Ego, pp. 77-80. ↩︎
Freud, op. cit. p. 80. ↩︎
Op. cit. p. 89. ↩︎
Freud, op. cit. pp. 42 f. (abridged). ↩︎
Op. cit. p. 111. ↩︎
See p. 34. ↩︎