Pavlov’s Salivating Dogs

From the original manuscript by Mendek Rubin,
”In Quest of the Eternal Sunshine”

Some time ago, while watching a network advertisement on television, Edith made an off-hand remark, “We are like Pavlov’s salivating dogs.” She was making a statement that our reactions to the food commercial displayed on the television screen are acquired automatic reflexes. We are like Pavlov’s dogs’ reaction to an external stimuli—learning to salivate at the sound of a bell—that became automatic and instinctive.

To compare us with Pavlov’s dogs seemed strange to me at first, to say the least, but also amusing. At that time, and even now as I write these words on paper, I still know little about Pavlov and his discoveries, except what I remember from my biology class in high school about forty years ago. Only one of his experiments comes back to mind, and even that I remember only vaguely. But it was enough to trigger my curiosity, to explore this topic later on.

Pavlov discovered that he could make his dogs salivate at will by utilizing the law of repetition and association, and the procedure was very simple indeed. All he had to do was ring a bell at the same time he was feeding his dogs. By repeating this operation frequently, the computer-like brains of the dogs eventually picked up the connection, which was recorded and catalogued in their memories. Lo and behold, after a while the dogs manifested some strange and bizarre behavior. Every time they heard the bell ring, they would salivate even though no food was served.

From that time on, the dogs became prisoners of habit. They had acquired a conditioned reflex, which was a second instinct. We call that learned behavior. If only to a small degree, the dogs had lost something of their integrity. They had been brainwashed.

It is conceivable that if dogs dream, their dreams would include this conditioned salivating. Or, if they could carry on a conversation as we humans do, they would undoubtedly include salivating as a topic of their discussions. They would write about it in their medical journals, and possibly develop experts on salivating. And if someone would dare to point out to them that salivating to the sounds of a bell is contrary to their nature, happiness and well-being, they would be dismissed out of hand. The dogs’ feelings of pleasure and pain had become associated with salivating, and these emotions would serve as strong evidence that salivating with the ringing of a bell is a real part of life, and how they were created.

Feeling all forms of emotional distress—unappreciated, alienated, malice, fear or boredom – may be just different forms of “salivating.” I am a prisoner of habit and repetition, just like Pavlov’s dogs.  And like Pavlov’s dogs, I “salivate” when the bells ring, and with me, it seems the bell has never stopped ringing, three score years and ten.

Living in the United States, free speech is guaranteed by the Bill of Rights, so I have the freedom to speak out on any topic that is on my mind. And according to my wishes and desires, I may be free to pursue life, liberty and happiness. But my opinions, ambitions, needs, and desires begin with a thought, and thoughts are never free.

I don’t even know why I want all these things that I want, especially when they do me more harm than good. I don’t even know why I feel the way I feel. They only take on importance in my life because they represent my subjective psychological makeup, something I acquired according to the same law of repetition and association that make the dogs salivate when the bells ring.

We feed our two cats, Pippach and Boozah, twice a day, in the morning and nights, in the lower part of the house. As soon as they sense that I am just about to go downstairs to feed them, like two cannon balls, they race down ahead of me. Sometimes I have reasons to go downstairs at other hours of the day—they rush down anyway. Then, I would invariably say to myself, “What stupid cats they are.” For a long time I was feeling very superior. “I am so much smarter than my cats,” I mused. Then, one day I realized I may not be as smart as I think. In more ways than I can think of, my behavior is no different than that of my “stupid cats.”

When I learned about these things, I could not help but ponder on the fact that my ambitions, insecurities, strong convictions, and outlook on life in general, are largely learned behaviors that I follow blindly. As Pavlov’s dogs were taught to salivate when the bell rang, I also was taught a thing or two in the same manner. This led me to believe that my loves, hates, hopes, despairs, joys and sorrows are not necessarily endemic to human nature. Rather, I acquired these. They came into my possession in the same manner I acquired my skills, by practice, by force of habit and repetition. More often than not, when I fear, there is nothing to fear; I eat when I am not hungry and when I behave in a manner that is contrary to common sense and my best interest, I am blindly obeying the same law that make my cats race downstairs in the middle of the day when feeding time is still a few hours off.

No one can deny that the dogs that had been made to participate in Pavlov’s experiment acquired a destructive habit. In spite of their will, Pavlov brainwashed his dogs to assume a mode of behavior that became fixed by constant repetition, thus altering a part of their nature. Pavlov just proved the obvious: He reaffirmed an age-old fact, namely, that it is possible to tamper with the equilibrium and the ingrained habit-forming mechanism of a living entity. He could interfere with the instinctual behavior and with the inborn and natural functions of the dog by the process of repetition and association. Newly fed information into the brain of the dog supersedes nature. In this case it was a behavior that can be considered destructive and stupid. It is a state of affairs that is not conducive to the best interest of the dog. If more stimulants were to be repeated again and again, if the dogs would be exposed to the ringing the bell for years on end, it would surely make the dogs neurotic, insecure, angry — it could drive them crazy. The analogy to the human condition of our day and age is obvious.

When the dogs salivated to the ringing of the bell, their minds had been brainwashed, disturbing something in their internal symmetry and balance. It is an interference with the natural and harmonious laws of nature. A vital inborn digestive function that took evolution millions of years to perfect had been tampered with. An instinctive, subconscious biological mechanism (salivation) is being triggered and energized by false signals (the ringing of the bell). The mechanism that made it come about in the dogs is the very same instrumentation that make people act and behave compulsively, foolishly and destructively against their will.

That the entire animal and vegetable kingdoms depend for their physical survival on the necessary and beneficial force of habit and repetition would be of much less interest to me except for the fact that, psychologically speaking, I as a human being living on this planet have adopted the same mechanical force of habit and repetition as a way of life. I have embraced it as my own, lock, stock and barrel. It is of vital interest to me because it points to the fact that I am still deeply rooted in my animal past, a predicament of mine out of which there is no easy way out. Most of my life I didn’t even know that this is was in fact a real problem for me.

From the point of view of man, as an advanced being, as a spiritual and psychological entity, the force of habit and repetition poses to us the greatest challenge on earth.

The mind separates us from experiencing life, but thought is unable to comprehend this. By misreading the nature of the problem, we come to the wrong conclusions. 

Every time the dogs salivate to the sounds of the bell, it violates their integrity, a detriment to their physical well-being. Every time the cats succumb to the force of habit and repetition and heedlessly race downstairs like speeding bullets, it only confuses them. It is a waste of time and effort. But when I, as a human being, conduct my life in a similar manner, it must be considered a form of madness. When I surrender my free will to the laws of habit and repetition, I am a prisoner of fate. But when I don’t even know why I am the way I am—why I feel the way I feel and act the way I act—I am wasting my life. I am in danger that I have never truly lived. Even though I am usually not aware of these things, I am still nevertheless responsible for my life. My greed, anger and conceit are a testimony that my conduct on earth is a form of insanity.

As a child, I must have perceived myself as perfect, until I learned otherwise. So if I am now deficient in my self-esteem how could it come about? Then who is to be blamed for this unfortunate state of affairs? It is true that Pavlov imparted in the dogs this conditioning, but it is the dog’s memory that perpetuates it. Even if it is true that my family, education and culture imparted to me the same value system that was prevalent in their day and age, now, many years after the event, I am the one who is holding on to it. It is now up to me. My salvation, therefore, must come from within.

If what is written here has even a grain of truth, what does is say about us as a people, of our place in the world? What does it say about you and I? What good are my wisdom, education, sophistication, and good intention when they don’t express themselves in a harmonious and satisfying life experience? How can I consider myself a freedom-loving man, when a great part of my emotions and thoughts originate not out of my own free will? When they are always in conflict with each other? Perhaps it was natural for me to experience fear, resentment and bitterness when I was young, but why go on and on? Why can’t I forget it? Now, with my father being dead for so many years, my resentment towards him is triggered by memory, by force of habit and repetition, by the activity of thought. Every time I react to other people as they would be my parents, it's just another form of “salivation”. I am living proof that Pavlov’s experiment with the dogs applies to us humans as well.

Every time I react to life with self-negation it is not out of my free will; it is the old memories that are maintained and sustained in my psyche with my secret approval; it is the primitive force of my conditioning. If the salivating dogs could only become cognizant of the reason why they keep on perpetuating their strange behavior, it would be the beginning of wisdom. If they would awaken to the fact of why and how this business of salivating started in the first place, perhaps they could figure out a solution to the problem. Otherwise their situation is hopeless.

One day I will die and before my last breath leaves my body, I may ponder on the meaning of it all. Because, all these things I considered very important to my happiness will matter but little. Then, I may be inclined to give an account to myself if it was a journey worth taking, a life well spent. Will I carry my doubts, fears, anger and venom to the grave? Will I take my departure from this world with the satisfaction of a job well done? Or will regret and sadness fill my heart and mind for all the opportunities I have lost?