e form of desire, from which the
other has developed through our habit of observing and theorizing (often
wrongly). It is not necessary to suppose, as Freud seems to do,
that every unconscious wish was once conscious, and was then, in his
terminology, "repressed" because we disapproved of it. On the contrary,
we shall suppose that, although Freudian "repression" undoubtedly occurs
and is important, it is not the usual reason for unconsciousness of our
wishes. The usual reason is merely that wishes are all, to begin with,
unconscious, and only become known when they are actively noticed.
Usually, from laziness, people do not notice, but accept the theory
of human nature which they find current, and attribute to themselves
whatever wishes this theory would lead them to expect. We used to be
full of virtuous wishes, but since Freud our wishes have become, in
the words of the Prophet Jeremiah, "deceitful above all things and
desperately wicked." Both these views, in most of those who have held
them, are the product of theory rather than observation, for observation
requires effort, whereas repeating phrases does not.

* Cf. Hart, "The Psychology of Insanity," p. 19.

The interpretation of unconscious wishes which I have been advocating
has been set forth briefly by Professor John B. Watson in an article
called "The Psychology of Wish Fulfilment," which appeared in "The
Scientific Monthly" in November, 1916. Two quotations will serve to show
his point of view:

"The Freudians (he says) have made more or less of a 'metaphysical
entity' out of the censor. They suppose that when wishes are repressed
they are repressed into the 'unconscious,' and that this mysterious
censor stands at the trapdoor lying between the conscious and the
unconscious. Many of us do not believe in a world of the unconscious
(a few of us even have grave doubts about the usefulness of the term
consciousness), hence we try to explain censorship along ordinary
biological lines. We believe that one group of habits can 'down' another
group of habits--or instincts. In this case our ordinary system of
habits--those which we call expressive of our 'real selves'--inhibit
or quench (keep inactive or partially inactive) those habits and
instinctive tendencies which belong largely in the past"(p. 483).

Again, after speaking of the frustration of some impulses which is
involved in acquiring the habits of a civilized adult, he continues:

"It is among these