试题库在线考试题库-历年真题模拟试题及答案-考博英语在线试题测试中心-希赛网

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This work belongs within the movement of the so-called “Third Force” psychology, but unlike many other works in this stream of thought, it approaches the problems of man as a person from a point of view that comes from within science and from an academic psychological perspective. I stress this not because there have been no other such attempts, but because these attempts are in the minority—and because very often, to those who are not knowledgeable about the movement, Third Force psychology seems to be a domain reserved exclusively for clinicians. This impression is obtained because most of the Third Force psychologists are clinicians or psychologists interested in personality theory. Also, the mistaken notion that if one is interested in the whole person then it is not possible to be scientific is still too prevalent. In truth, the impact of this psychology is by no means limited to clinical psychology—its insights are relevant for the whole field. Moreover, it is precisely the prejudice that this psychology must be either anti scientific or nonscientific that we would like to challenge.

Totalitarianism is the polar case of such bureaucratic concentration of power that destroys democratic processes, but not the only one. The same tendency can be observed in political machine that transfer the power that legally belongs to voters to political bosses, in business corporations that vest the power that rightfully belongs to stockholders in corporation officials, in those unions that bestow the power that rightfully belongs to rank-and-file members upon union leaders. These cases lead some writers to contend that the present trend toward bureaucratization spells the doom of democratic institution. This may well be too fatalistic a viewpoint, but there can be no doubt that this trend constitutes a challenge. To protect ourselves against this threat, while continuing to utilize these efficient administrative mechanisms, we must first learn fully to understand how bureaucracies function.

Which is more important, raising the standard of living or protecting the environment? Why?

I am grateful for the invitation to participate in this important conference, and I interpret it as evidence that students of creativity themselves possess the sensitivity to divergent approaches that they seek to identify in others. But I am not altogether sanguine about the outcome of your experiment with me. As most of you already know, I am no psychologist, but rather an ex-physicist now working in the history of science. Probably my concern is no less with creativity than your own, but my goals, my techniques, and my sources of evidence are so very different from yours that I am far from sure how much we do, or even should, have to say to each other. These reservations imply no apology; rather they hint at my central thesis. In the sciences, as I shall suggest below, it is often better to do one’s best with the tools at hand than to pause for contemplation of divergent approaches.If a person of my background and interests has anything relevant to suggest to this conference, it will not be about your central concerns, the creative personality and its early identification. But implicit in the numerous working papers distributed to participants in this conference is an image of the scientific process and of the scientist; that image almost certainly conditions many of the experiments you try as well as the conclusions you draw; and about it the historian may well have something to say. I shall restrict my attention to one aspect of this image--an aspect epitomized as follows in one of the working papers: The basic scientist “must lack prejudice to a degree where he can look at the most ‘self-evident’ facts or concepts without necessarily accepting them, and, conversely, allow his imagination to play with the most unlikely possibilities”. In the more technical language supplied by other working papers, this aspect of the image recurs as an emphasis upon “divergent thinking, the freedom to go off in different directions,... rejecting the old solution and striking out in some new direction.”I do not at all doubt that this description of “divergent thinking” and the concomitant search for those able to do it are entirely proper. Some divergence characterizes all scientific work, and gigantic divergences lie at the core of the most significant episodes in scientific development. But both my own experience in scientific research and my reading of the history of sciences lead me to wonder whether flexibility and open-mindedness have not been too exclusively emphasized as the characteristics requisite for basic research.

No thinker in the nineteenth century has had so direct, deliberate and powerful an influence upon mankind as Karl Marx. Both during his lifetime and after it he has exercised an intellectual and moral ascendancy over his followers, the strength of which was unique even in that golden age of democratic nationalism, an age which saw the rise of great popular heroes and martyrs，romantic, almost legendary figures, whose lives and words dominated the imagination of the masses and created a new revolutionary tradition in Europe. Yet Marx could not, at any time, be called a popular figure in the ordinary sense: certainly he was in no sense a popular writer or orator. He wrote extensively, but his works were not, during his lifetime, read widely; and when, in the late eighteen seventies, they began to reach the immense public which several among them afterwards obtained, the desire to read them was due not so much to a recognition of their intrinsic qualities as to the growth of the fame and notoriety of the movement with which he was identified.Marx totally lacked the qualities of a great popular leader or agitator, was not a publicist of genius like the Russian democrat Alexander Helen, nor did he possess Bakunin's marvelous eloquence; the greater part of his working life was spent in comparative obscurity in London, at his writing-desk and in the reading-room of the British Museum. He was little known to the general public, and while towards the end of his life he became the recognized and admired leader of a powerful international movement, nothing in his life or character stirred the imagination or evoked the boundless devotion, the intense, almost religion, worship, with which such men as Kossuth, Mazzini, and even Lassalle in his last years, were regarded by their followers.His public appearances were neither frequent nor notably successful. On the few occasions on which he addressed banquets or public meetings, his speeches were overloaded with matter, and delivered with a combination of monotonousness and brusqueness, which commanded the respect but not the enthusiasm of his audience. He was by temperament a theorist and an intellectual, and instinctively avoided direct contact with the masses, to the study of whose interests his entire life was devoted. To many of his followers he appeared in the role of a dogmatic and sententious German schoolmaster, prepared to repeat his theses indefinitely, with rising sharpness, until their essence became irremovably lodged in his disciples' minds. The greater part of his economic teaching was given its first expression in lectures to working men: his exposition under these circumstances was by all accounts a model of lucidity and conciseness. But he wrote slowly and painfully, as sometimes happens with rapid and fertile thinkers, scarcely able to cope with the speed of their own ideas, impatient at once to communicate a new doctrine, and to forestall every possible objection; the published versions were generally turgid, clumsy, and obscure in detail, although the central doctrine is never in serious doubt. He was acutely copious of this and once compared himself with the hero of Balzac's Unknown Masterpiece, who tries to paint the picture which has formed itself in his mind, touches and retouches the canvas endlessly, to produce at last a shapeless mass of colors, which to his eye seems to express the vision in his imagination. He belonged to a generation which cultivated the emotions more intently and deliberately than its predecessors, and was brought up among men to whom ideas were often more real than facts, and personal relations meant far more than the events of the external world; by whom indeed public life was commonly understood and interpreted in terms of the rich and elaborate world of their own private experience.

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