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GESTALT THEORY
by Max Wertheimer (1924)
(1st part)
What is Gestalt theory and what does it intend?
Gestalt theory was the outcome of concrete
investigations in psychology, logic, and
epistemology. The prevailing situation at
the time of its origin may be briefly sketched
as follows. We go from the world of everyday
events to that of science, and not unnaturally
assume that in making this transition we
shall gain a deeper and more precise understanding
of essentials. The transition should mark
an advance. And yet, though one may have
learned a great deal, one is poorer than
before. It is the same in psychology. Here
too we find science intent upon a systematic
collection of data, yet often excluding through
that very activity precisely that which is
most vivid and real in the living phenomena
it studies. Somehow the thing that matters
has eluded us.
What happens when a problem is solved, when
one suddenly "sees the point"?
Common as this experience is, we seek in
vain for it in the textbooks of psychology.
Of things arid, poor, and inessential there
is an abundance, but that which really matters
is missing. Instead we are told of formation
of concepts, of abstraction and generalization,
of class concepts and judgments, perhaps
of associations, creative phantasy, intuitions,
talents - anything but an answer to our original
problem. And what are these last words but
names for the problem? Where are the penetrating
answers? Psychology is replete with terms
of great potentiality - personality, essence,
intuition, and the rest. But when one seeks
to grasp their concrete content, such terms
fail.
This is the situation and it is characteristic
of modern science that the same problem should
appear everywhere. Several attempts have
been made to remedy the matter. One was a
frank defeatism preaching the severance of
science and life: there are regions which
are inaccessible to science. Other theories
established a sharp distinction between the
natural and moral sciences: the exactitude
and precision of chemistry and physics are
characteristic of natural science, but "scientific"
accuracy has no place in a study of the mind
and its ways. This must be renounced in favour
of other categories.
Without pausing for further examples, let
us consider rather a question naturally underlying
the whole discussion: Is "science"
really the kind of thing we have implied?
The word science has often suggested a certain
outlook, certain fundamental assumptions,
certain procedures and attitudes - but do
these imply that this is the only possibility
of scientific method? Perhaps science already
embodies methods leading in an entirely different
direction, methods which have been continually
stifled by the seemingly necessary, dominant
ones. It is conceivable, for instance, that
a host of facts and problems have been concealed
rather than illuminated by the prevailing
scientific tradition. Even though the traditional
methods of science are undoubtedly adequate
in many cases, there may be others where
they lead us astray. Perhaps something in
the very nature of the traditional outlook
may have led its exponents at times to ignore
precisely that which is truly essential.
Gestalt theory will not be satisfied with
sham solutions suggested by a simple dichotomy
of science and life. Instead, Gestalt theory
is resolved to penetrate the problem itself
by examining the fundamental assumptions
of science. It has long seemed obvious -
and is, in fact, the characteristic tone
of European science - that "science"
means breaking up complexes into their component
elements. Isolate the elements, discover
their laws, then reassemble them, and the
problem is solved. All wholes are reduced
to pieces and piecewise relations between
pieces.
The fundamental "formula" of Gestalt
theory might be expressed in this way [1].
There are wholes, the behaviour of which
is not determined by that of their individual
elements, but where the part-processes are
themselves determined by the intrinsic nature
of the whole. It is the hope of Gestalt theory
to determine the nature of such wholes.
With a formula such as this one might close,
for Gestalt theory is neither more nor less
than this. It is not interested in puzzling
out philosophic questions which such a formula
might suggest.
Gestalt theory has to do with concrete research;
it is not only an outcome but a device :
not only a theory about results but a means
toward further discoveries. This is not merely
the proposal of one or more problems but
an attempt to see what is really taking place
in science. This problem cannot be solved
by listing possibilities for systematization,
classification, and arrangement. If it is
to be attacked at all, we must be guided
by the spirit of the new method and by the
concrete nature of the things themselves
which we are studying, and set ourselves
to penetrate to that which is really given
by nature.
There is another difficulty that may be illustrated
by the following example. Suppose a mathematician
shows you a proposition and you begin to
"classify" it. This proposition,
you say, is of such and such type, belongs
in this or that historical category, and
so on. Is that how the mathematician works?
"Why, you haven't grasped the thing
at all," the mathematician will exclaim.
"See here, this formula is not an independent,
closed fact that can be dealt with for itself
alone. You must see its dynamic functional
relationship to the whole from which it was
lifted or you will never understand it."
What holds for the mathematical formula applies
also to the "formula" of Gestalt
theory. The attempt of Gestalt theory to
disclose the functional meaning of its own
formula is no less strict than is the mathematician's.
The attempt to explain Gestalt theory in
a short essay is the more difficult because
of the terms which are used: part, whole,
intrinsic determination. All of them have
in the past been the topic of endless discussions
where each disputant has understood them
differently. And even worse has been the
cataloguing attitude adopted toward them.
What they lacked has been actual research.
Like many another "philosophic"
problem they have been withheld from contact
with reality and scientific work.
About all I can hope for in so short a discussion
is to suggest a few of the problems which
at present occupy the attention of Gestalt
theory and something of the way they are
being attacked.
To repeat: the problem has not merely to
do with scientific work - it is a fundamental
problem of our times. Gestalt theory is not
something suddenly and unexpectedly dropped
upon us from above; it is, rather, a palpable
convergence of problems ranging throughout
the sciences and the various philosophic
standpoints of modern times.
Let us take, for example, an event in the
history of psychology.
One turned from a living experience to science
and asked what it had to say about this experience,
and one found an assortment of elements,
sensational images, feelings, acts of will
and laws governing these elements - and was
told, "Take your choice, reconstruct
from them the experience you had." Such
procedure led to difficulties in concrete
psychological research and to the emergence
of problems which defied solution by traditional
analytic methods. Historically the most important
impulse came from v. Ehrenfels who raised
the following problem. Psychology had said
that experience is a compound of elements:
we hear a melody and then, upon hearing it
again, memory enables us to recognize it.
But what is it that enables us to recognize
the melody when it is played in a new key?
The sum of the elements is different, yet
the melody is the same; indeed, one is often
not even aware that a transposition has been
made.
When in retrospect we consider the prevailing
situation we are struck by two aspects of
v. Ehrenfels's thesis; on the one hand one
is surprised at the essentially summative
character of his theory, on the other one
admires his courage in propounding and defending
his proposition. Strictlv interpreted, v.
Ehrenfels's position was this: I play a familiar
melody of six tones and employ six new tones,
yet you recognize the melody despite the
change. There must be a something more than
the sum of six tones, viz. a seventh something,
which is the form-quality, the Gestaltqualität,
of the original six. It is this seventh factor
or element which enabled you to recognize
the melody despite its transposition. However
strange this view may seem, it shares with
many another subsequently abandoned hypothesis
the honour of having clearly seen and emphasized
a fundamental problem. But other explanations
were also proposed. One maintained that in
addition to the six tones there were intervals
- relations - and that these were what remained
constant. In other words we are asked to
assume not only elements but "relations-between-elements"
as additional components of the total complex.
But this view failed to account for the phenomenon
because in some cases the relations too may
be altered without destroying the original
melody.
Another type of explanation, also designed
to bolster the elementaristic hypothesis,
was that to this total of six or more tones
there come certain "higher processes"
which operate upon the given material to
"produce" unity. [2]
This was the situation until Gestalt theory
raised the radical question: Is it really
true that when I hear a melody I have a sum
of individual tones (pieces) which constitute
the primary foundation of my experience?
Is not perhaps the reverse of this true?
What I really have, what I hear of each individual
note, what I experience at each place in
the melody is apart which is itself determined
by the character of the whole. What is given
me by the melody does not arise (through
the agency of any auxiliary factor) as a
secondary process from the sum of the pieces
as such. Instead, what takes place in each
single part already depends upon what the
whole is. The flesh and blood of a tone depends
from the start upon its role in the melody:
a b as leading tone to c is something radically
different from the b as tonic. It belongs
to the flesh and blood of the things given
in experience [Gegebenheiten], how, in what
role, in what function they are in their
whole.
Let us leave the melody example and turn
to another field. Take the case of threshold
phenomena. It has long been held that a certain
stimulus necessarily produces a certain sensation.
Thus, when two stimuli are sufficiently different,
the sensations also will be different. Psychology
is filled with careful inquiries regarding
threshold phenomena. To account for the difficulties
constantly being encountered it was assumed
that these phenomena must be influenced by
higher mental functions, judgments, illusions,
attention, etc. And this continued until
the radical question was raised : Is it really
true that a specific stimulus always gives
rise to the same sensation? Perhaps the prevailing.
whole-conditions will themselves determine
the effect of stimulation? This kind of formulation
leads to experimentation, and experiments
show, for example, that when I see two colours
the sensations I have are determined by the
whole-conditions of the entire stimulus situation.
Thus, also, the same local physical stimulus
pattern can give rise to either a unitary
and homogeneous figure, or to an articulated
figure with different parts, all depending
upon the whole-conditions which may favour
either unity or articulation. Obviously the
task, then, is to investigate these "whole-conditions"
and discover what influences they exert upon
experience.
Advancing another step we come to the question
whether perhaps any part depends upon the
particular whole in which it occurs. Experiments,
largely on vision, have answered this question
in the affirmative. Among other things they
demand that the traditional theory of visual
contrast be replaced by a theory which takes
account of whole-part conditions. [3]
Our next point is that my field comprises
also my Ego. There is not from the beginning
an Ego over-against others, but the genesis
of an Ego offers one of the most fascinating
problems, the solution of which seems to
lie in Gestalt principles. However, once
constituted, the Ego is a functional part
of the total field. Proceeding as before
we may therefore ask: What happens to the
Ego as a part of the field? Is the resulting
behaviour the piecewise sort of thing associationism,
experience theory, and the like, would have
us believe? Experimental results contradict
this interpretation and again we often find
that the laws of whole-processes operative
in such a field tend toward a "meaningful"
behaviour of its parts.
This field is not a summation of sense data
and no description of it which considers
such separate pieces to be primary will be
correct. If it were, then for children, primitive
peoples and animals experience would be nothing
but piece-sensations. The next most developed
creatures would have, in addition to independent
sensations, something higher, and so on.
But this whole picture is the opposite of
what actual inquiry has disclosed. We have
learned to recognize the "sensations"
of our textbooks as products of a late culture
utterly different from the experiences of
more primitive stages. Who experiences the
sensation of a specific red in that sense?
What the man of the streets, children, or
primitive men normally react to is something
coloured but at the same time exciting, gay,
strong, or affecting - not "sensations".
The programme to treat the organism as a
part in a larger field necessitates the reformulation
of the problem as to the relation between
organism and environment. The stimulus-sensation
connection must be replaced by a connection
between alteration in the field conditions,
the vital situation, and the total reaction
of the organism by a change in its attitude,
striving, and feeling.
There is, however, another step to be considered.
A man is not only a part of his field, he
is also one among other men. When a group
of people work together it rarely occurs,
and then only under very special conditions,
that they constitute a mere-sum of independent
Egos. Instead the common enterprise often
becomes their mutual concern and each works
as a meaningfully functioning part of the
whole. Consider a group of South Sea Islanders
engaged in some community occupation, or
a group of children playing together. Only
under very special circumstances does an
"I" stand out alone. Then the balance
which obtained during harmonious and systematic
occupation may be upset and give way to a
surrogate (under certain conditions, pathological)
new balance. [4]
Further discussion of this point would carry
us into the work of social and cultural science
which cannot be followed here. Instead let
us consider certain other illustrations.
What was said above of stimulus and sensation
is applicable to physiology and the biological
sciences no less than to psychology. It has
been tried, for example, by postulating sums
of more and more special apparatus, to account
for meaningful or, as it is often called,
purposive behaviour. Once more we find meaninglessly
combined reflexes taken for granted although
it is probable that even with minute organisms
it is not true that a piece-stimulus automatically
bring about its corresponding piece-effect.
Opposing this view is vitalism which, however,
as it appears to Gestalt theory, also errs
in its efforts to solve the problem, for
it, too, begins with the assumption that
natural occurrences are themselves essentially
blind and haphazard - and adds a mystical
something over and above them which imposes
order. Vitalism fails to inquire of physical
events whether a genuine order might not
already prevail amongst them. And yet nature
does exhibit numerous instances of physical
wholes in which part events are determined
by the inner structure of the whole. [5]
These brief references to biology will suffice
to remind us that whole-phenomena are not
"merely" psychological, but appear
in other sciences as well. Obviously, therefore,
the problem is not solved by separating off
various provinces of science and classifying
whole-phenomena as something peculiar to
psychology.
The fundamental question can be very simply
stated: Are the parts of a given whole determined
by the inner structure of that whole, or
are the events such that, as independent,
piecemeal, fortuitous and blind the total
activity is a sum of the part-activities?
Human beings can, of course, devise a kind
of physics of their own - e. g. a sequence
of machines - exemplifying the latter half
of our question, but this does not signify
that all natural phenomena are of this type.
Here is a place where Gestalt theory is least
easily understood and this because of the
great number of prejudices about nature which
have accumulated during the centuries. Nature
is thought of as something essentially blind
in its laws, where whatever takes place in
the whole is purely a sum of individual occurrences.
This view was the natural result of the struggle
which physics has always had to purge itself
of teleology. To-day it can be seen that
we are obliged to traverse other routes than
those suggested by this kind of purposivism.
Let us proceed another step and ask: How
does all this stand with regard to the problem
of body and mind? What does my knowledge
of another's mental experiences amount to
and how do I obtain it? There are, of course,
old and established dogmas on these points:
The mental and physical are wholly heterogeneous:
There obtains between them an absolute dichotomy.
(From this point of departure philosophers
have drawn an array of metaphysical deductions
so as to attribute all the good qualities
to mind while reserving for nature the odious.)
As regards the second question, my discerning
mental phenomena in others is traditionally
explained as inference by analogy. Strictly
interpreted the principle here is that something
mental is meaninglessly coupled with something
physical. I observe the physical and infer
the mental from it more or less according
to the following scheme: I see someone press
a button on the wall and infer that he wants
the light to go on. There may be couplings
of this sort. However, many scientists have
been disturbed by this dualism. and have
tried to save themselves by recourse to very
curious hypotheses. Indeed, the ordinary
person would violently refuse to believe
that when he sees his companion startled,
frightened, or angry he is seeing only certain
physical occurrences which themselves have
nothing to do (in their inner nature) with
the mental, being only superficially coupled
with it: you have frequently seen this and
this combined ... etc. There have been many
attempts to surmount this problem. One speaks,
for example, of intuition and says there
can be no other possibility, for I see my
companion's fear. It is not true, argue the
intuitionists, that I see only the bare bodily
activities meaninglessly coupled with other
and invisible activities. However inadmissible
it may otherwise be, an intuition theory
does have at least this in its favour, it
shows a suspicion that the traditional procedure
might be successfully reversed. But the word
intuition is at best only a naming of that
which we must strive to lay hold of.
This and other hypotheses, apprehended as
they now are, will not advance scientific
pursuit, for science demands fruitful penetration,
not mere cataloguing and systematization.
But the question is, How does the matter
really stand? Looking more closely we find
a I third assumption, namely that a process
such as fear is a matter of consciousness.
Is this true? Suppose you see a person who
is kindly or benevolent. Does anyone suppose
that this person is feeling mawkish? No one
could possibly believe that. The characteristic
feature of such behaviour has very little
to do with consciousness. It has been one
of the easiest contrivances of philosophy
to identify a man's real behaviour and the
direction of his mind with his consciousness.
Parenthetically, in the opinion of many people
the distinction between idealism and materialism
implies that between the noble and the ignoble.
Yet does one really mean by this to contrast
consciousness with the blithesome budding
of trees? Indeed, what is there so repugnant
about the materialistic and mechanical? What
is so attractive about the idealistic? Does
it come from the material qualities of the
connected pieces? Broadly speaking most psychological
theories and textbooks, despite their continued
emphasis upon consciousness, are far more
"materialistic", arid, and spiritless
than a living tree - which probably has no
consciousness at all. The point is not what
the material pieces are, but what kind of
whole it is. Proceeding in terms of specific
problems one soon realizes how many bodily
activities there are which give no hint of
a separation between body and mind. Imagine
a dance, a dance full of grace and joy. What
is the situation in such a dance? Do we have
a summation of physical limb movements and
a psychical consciousness? No. Obviously
this answer does not solve the problem; we
have to start anew - and it seems to me that
a proper and fruitful point of attack has
been discovered. [6] One finds many processes
which, in their dynamical form, are identical
regardless of variations in the material
character of their elements. When a man is
timid, afraid or energetic, happy or sad,
it can often be shown that the course of
his physical processes is Gestalt-identical
with the course pursued by the mental processes.
Again In I can only indicate the direction
of thought. I have touched on the question
of body and mind merely to show that the
problem we are discussing also has its philosophic
aspects. To strengthen the import of the
foregoing suggestions let us consider the
fields of epistemology and logic. For centuries
the assumption has prevailed that our world
is essentially a summation of elements. For
Hume and largely also for Kant the world
is like a bundle of fragments, and the dogma
of meaningless summations continues to play
its part. As for logic, it supplies: concepts,
which when rigorously viewed are but sums
of properties; classes, which upon closer
inspection prove to be mere catchalls ; syllogisms,
devised by arbitrarily lumping together any
two propositions having the character that
... etc. When one considers what a concept
is in living thought, what it really means
to grasp a conclusion; when one considers
what the crucial thing is about a mathematical
proof and the concrete interrelationships
it involves, one sees that the categories
of traditional logic have accomplished nothing
in this direction. [7]
It is our task to inquire, whether a logic
is possible which is not piecemeal. Indeed
the same question arises in mathematics also.
Is it necessary that all mathematics be established
upon a piecewise basis? What sort of mathematical
system would it be in which this were not
the case? There have been attempts to answer
the latter question but almost always they
have fallen back in the end upon the old
procedures. This fate has overtaken many,
for the result of training in piecewise thinking
is extraordinarily tenacious. It is not enough
and certainly does not constitute a solution
of the, principal problem if one shows that
the atoms a of mathematics are both piecemeal
and t the same time evince something of the
opposite character. The problem has been
scientifically grasped only when an attack
specifically designed to yield positive results
has been launched. Just how this attack is
to be made seems to many mathematicians a
colossal problem, but perhaps the quantum
theory will force the mathematicians to attack
it.
This brings us to the close of an attempt
to present a view of the problem as illustrated
by its specific appearances in various fields.
In concluding I may suggest a certain unification
of these illustrations somewhat as follows.
I consider the situation from the point of
view of a theory of aggregates and say: How
should a world be where science, concepts,
inquiry, investigation, and comprehension
of inner unities were impossible? The answer
is obvious. This world would be a manifold
of disparate pieces. Secondly, what kind
of world would there have to be in which
a piecewise science would apply? The answer
is again quite simple, for here one needs
only a system of recurrent couplings that
are blind and piecewise in character, whereupon
everything is available for a pursuit of
the traditional piecewise methods of logic,
mathematics, and science generally in so
far as these presuppose this kind of world.
But there is a third kind of aggregate which
has been but cursorily investigated. These
are the aggregates in which a manifold is
not compounded from adjacently situated pieces
but rather such that a term at its place
in that aggregate is determined by the whole-laws
of the aggregate itself.
Pictorially: suppose the world were a vast
plateau upon which were many musicians. I
walk about listening and watching the players.
First suppose that the world is a meaningless
plurality. Everyone does as he will, each
for himself. What happens together when I
hear ten players might be the basis for my
guessing as to what they all are doing, but
this is merely a matter of chance and probability
much as in the kinetics of gas molecules.
- A second possibility would be that each
time one musician played c, another played
f so and so many seconds later. I work out
a theory of blind couplings but the playing
as a whole remains meaningless. This is what
many people think physics does, but the real
work of physics belies this. - The third
possibility is, say, a Beethoven symphony
where it would be possible for one to select
one part of the whole and work from that
towards an idea of the structural principle
motivating and determining the whole. Here
the fundamental laws are not those of fortuitous
pieces, but concern the very character of
the event.
Footnotes.
[1] "Man könnte das Grundproblem der
Gestalttheorie etwa so zu formulieren suchen:
Es gibt Zusammenhänge, bei denen nicht, was
im Ganzen geschieht, sich daraus herleitet,
wie die einzelnen Stücke sind und sich zusammensetzen,
sondern umgekehrt, wo - im prägnanten Fall
- sich das, was an einem Teil dieses Ganzen
geschieht, bestimmt von inneren Strukturgesetzen
dieses seines Ganzen." [- back to text]
[2] Compare KOFFKA, K. (1938). Reply to v.
Benussi. In: W. D. Ellis (Ed.), A Source
Book of Gestalt Psychology, 371-378. Reprint
(1997): New York: The Gestalt Journal Press.
[- back to text]
[3] See BENARY, W. (1938). The Influence
of form on Brightness Contrast. In: W. D.
Ellis (Ed.), A Source Book of Gestalt Psychology,
104-108. Reprint (1997): New York: The Gestalt
Journal Press. [- back to text]
[4] The suggestions given in this paragraph
have been worked out in further detail by
SCHULTE, H. (1938). An Approach to a Gestalt
Theory of Paranoic Phenomena. In: W. D. Ellis
(Ed.), A Source Book of Gestalt Psychology,
362-369. Reprint (1997): New York: The Gestalt
Journal Press. [- back to text]
[5] See KÖHLER, W. (1938). Physical
Gestalten.
In: W. D. Ellis (Ed.), A Source Book
of Gestalt
Psychology, 17-54. Reprint (1997):
New York:
The Gestalt Journal Press. [- back
to text]
[6] Compare HORNBOSTEL; E. M. v. (1938).
The Unity of the Senses. In: W. D.
Ellis
(Ed.), A Source Book of Gestalt Psychology,
210-216. Reprint (1997): New York:
The Gestalt
Journal Press. [- back to text]
[7] Compare in this connection WERTHEIMER,
M. (1938). The Syllogism and Productive
Thinking.
In: W. D. Ellis (Ed.), A Source Book
of Gestalt
Psychology, 274-282. Reprint (1997):
New
York: The Gestalt Journal Press. [-
back
to text]
This is part of the Gestalt Archive,
maintained
by the Society for Gestalt Theory and
its
Applications (GTA). For other Gestalt
psychological
articles in full text please visit
the index
of the Archive.
This paper was first published in German:
Über Gestalttheorie [an address before
the
Kant Society, Berlin, '7th December,
1924],
Erlangen, 1925. The English translation
by
Willis D. Ellis was first published
in his
"Source Book of Gestalt Psychology,"
New York: Harcourt, Brace and Co, 1938.
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