in the ease of the Americans—a fragmentary, unsystematic character and to take away the foundations.

Cbelpanov (1925) does not suspect at all that new words may be needed in the laboratory, in an investigation, that the sense [and] meaning of an investigation are determined by the words used. He criticizes Pavlov, stating that “inhibition” is a vague, hypothetical expression and that the same must be said of the term “disinhibition.” Admittedly, we don’t know what goes on in the brain during inhibition, but nevertheless it is a brilliant, transparent concept. First of all, it is well defined, i.e., exactly determined in its meaning and boundaries. Secondly, it is honest, i.e., it says no more than is known. Presently the processes of inhibition in the brain are not wholly clear to us, but the word and the concept “inhibition” are wholly clear. Thirdly, it is principled and scientific, i.e., it includes a fact into a system, underpins it with a foundation, explains it hypothetically, but causally. Of course, we have a clearer image of an eye than of an analyzer. Exactly because of this the word “eye” doesn’t mean anything in science. The term “visual analyzer” says both less and more than the word “eye.” Pavlov revealed a new function of the eye, compared it with the function of other organs, connected the whole sensory path from the eye to the cortex, indicated its place in the system of behavior—and all this is expressed by the new term. It is true that we must think of visual sensations when we hear these words, but the genetic origin of a word and its terminological meaning are two absolutely different things. The word contains nothing of sensations; it can be adequately used by a blind person. Those who, following Chelpanov, catch Pavlov making a slip of the tongue, using fragments of a psychological language, and find him guilty of inconsistency, do not understand the heart of the matter. When Pavlov uses [words such as] happiness, attention, idiot (about a dog), this only means that the mechanism of happiness, attention etc. has not yet been studied, that these are the as yet obscure spots of the system; it does not imply a fundamental concession or contradiction,

But all this may seem incorrect as long as we do not take the opposite aspect into account. Of course, terminologieal consistency may become pedantry, “verbalism,” commonplace (Bekhterev’s school). When does that occur? When the word is like a label stuck on a finished article and is not born in the research process. Then it does not define, delimit, but introduces vagueness and shambles in the system of concepts.

Such a work implies the pinning on of new labels which explain absolutely nothing, for it is not difficult, of course, to invent a whole catalogue of names: the reflex of purpose, the reflex of God, the reflex of right, the reflex of freedom, etc. [38] A reflex can be found for everything. The problem is only that we gain nothing but trifles. This does not refute the general rule, but indirectly confirms it: new words keep pace with new investigations.

Let us summarize. We have seen everywhere that the word, like the sun in a drop of water, fully reflects the processes and tendencies in the development of a science. A certain fundamental unity of knowledge in science comes to light which goes from the highest principles to the selection of a word. What guarantees this unity of the whole scientific system? The fundamental methodological skeleton. The investigator, insofar as he is not a technician, a registrar, an executor, is always a philosopher who during the investigation and description is thinking about the phenomena, and his way of thinking is revealed in the words he uses. A tremendous discipline of thought lies behind Pavlov’s penalty. A discipline of mind similar to the monastic system which forms the core of the religious world view is at the core of the scientific conception of the world. He who enters the laboratory with his own word is deemed to repeat Pavlov’s example. The word is a philosophy of the