It must have been around age 15 when I first encountered "the problem" of "free will." What a kick that some Greeks had said that everything reduces to atoms, and every billiard-ball atom in the universe impinges on every other billiard ball - including the ones in my "mind" and muscles - and so there's no free will. For a long time I thought it was sophistry - after I learned what that word meant.
At some point I started reading on "free will" and realized I could continue to read and think on it my entire life; there's quite a lot of ink already spilled on the issue. If it's an issue at all to you, that is. Because almost all Westerners assert their wills are free. Doesn't it just seen like you decided to read Overweening Generalist today, rather than skip it? You WILLED it, and it was so. And now I'm already boring you. I'll try to be amusing to keep you from "willing" your way on to the next of 23 zappazillion other possible Netpages.
I've found that there have been times since I was 15 - a long-assed time ago, friends! - when I thought like William James about the "free will vs. determinism" Big Q: To paraphrase James: Of course the world and everything is determined. And yet our wills are free. A sort of "free-willed determinism" must be the run of things. It was lines like this that won James lots of "man-in-the-street" fans; his academic colleagues? Not so much.
In other words, for James it's a tired subject. We've been debating it for 2500 years and can't come to a consensus, so let's just change the conversation, aye?
But then I'll get into periods when the topic is really hot. For example, I have mostly thought arguments against free will were hilarious, deep-down. Their adherents may have been dead serious. But really? You, Philosopher, did not have a choice but to write this rather dry piece of argumentation just so I could not choose to read it? (And yet I did read it...did I choose to or not? If it was so "dry" why didn't I choose to do something else? Clearly, there are more pleasurable things. Like masturbation...which is a lot like what I've just read from Mr. Philosopher.) Or: what if he's right?
Gedankens
I've spent entire weeks reclining on a divan trying to remind myself there's no "free will." Not even for Rush's drummer and lyricist Neil Peart. Neil was confused when he wrote that, probably under the spell of a ditzy libertarian. When I did or said something I later thought was ignorant I gave myself a break: It's just the way Things are. To borrow from William James again, I found this a delightful way to take a "moral holiday." I found that when I or others did kind things for others, it was probably a nice grace built into the fabric of existence. Others who acted like jerks couldn't help themselves. My stress levels seemed to dip. I'd constantly catch myself thinking in the "free will-ist" mode and remind myself that that was not allowed until next Monday, or whenever.
Being some sort of agnostic hedonist with Buddhistic and Taoist tendencies, I couldn't see this thinking linked to Judeo-Xtian ideas, although clearly: the Free Will v. Determinist worldviews (which I will from here on out refer to as The Main Event) have had huge play in theology and law. In Law, we apparently have a very very strong need for people to be blameworthy, and therefore what's commonly called the compatibilist view holds sway. Things are determined, but there's enough room for moral choices, unless you were coerced, or drugged, or not "of sound mind" and many other very interesting hedges...like maybe you murdered top public officials at point-blank cold blood because you were addicted to Hostess Twinkies, an addiction to which was symptomatic of a non compos mentis-level of depression.
Compatibilists
In 1962 Strawson had the audacity to argue for a particularly hardcore compatibilist position: let's say you are a sober, healthy bus driver and a child runs out in front of your bus. You have no time to react. You hit the kid and he dies. Strawson thought - if I read him correctly - that the consequences of your actions are enough to hold you culpable. Forget about any extenuating circumstances. If I have free will of the kind I hope I have, I hold Strawson in contempt for a sort of robotic punitive dickishness all too common among fascist Law and Order types. (Funny: one week I decided to adopt a hardcore No Free Will and I'd read Strawson: he couldn't help it. Poor guy. Oh well, it's part of some larger, Weirder Plan?)
Dr. Samuel Johnson
Sidelight
You've all heard/read the bit about Boswell relating to Dr. Johnson about Bishop Berkeley's views about "reality": we can only have experiences of things, we cannot know, do not experience Abstract Nouns. According to Berkeley, you're having an experience reading this rather prolix blogger write about The Main Event on a "computer." That's about all you can say about it. You see the computer, the words. You can feel the computer. You cannot infer about anything else "out there" that's causing you to have further abstracted notions about what might be going on; "God" put all those interesting ideas in your head. The sense data came from Him too. Anyway: Johnson hears this and it pisses him off and he kicks a rock and says to Boswell, "I refute him thus!" Supposedly Johnson hurt his foot, took the pain to illustrate that things really are "out there" and he chose to demonstrate and feel it. Guerrilla ontologist Berkeley never meant to rouse ire in a dude like Johnson, but Johnson seems to have taken it as a challenge to his own free will, and the will to believe other stuff is really "out there." Like things to kick by the side of the road. I see merit in both writers' ideas. Johnson's "I refute him thus!" and the kick has been referred to by wiseacres of much reading as argumentum ad lapidem. I hear this fallacy in bars all the time.
Incompatibilists
These folks see The Main Event as skewed toward determinism and so are reluctant to blame. However, libertarian incompatibilists see free will as far more important than whatever there is that determines us (genes, history, our upbringing, environment, etc), so they pretty much reject determinism and do find others blameworthy. A few incompatibilists who do not find people blameworthy are pre-determinists of the olde fashioned kind: atoms and billiard balls and all that: we cannot possibly trace the contours of causation. Do you know why you have a headache? How memories are formed? How vision is processed? Do you have access to how a suite of genes are turning on right now, coding for proteins, turning other genes off, modulating others like a rheostat?
Far more incompatibilists are "skeptical" ones: a shorthand for them: we don't have enough free will to find others blameworthy. As a general reader, it seems more biologist-types are going this way. My favorite thinker who's an incompatibilist is the eminent neurophysiologist and baboonologist Robert Sapolsky of Stanford. The eminent philosopher Daniel Dennett claims 59% of philosophers in 2009 were compatibilists, according to a Philpapers survery. He says only 12% of philosophers were determinists.
Barbara Fried of Stanford law; she's a
strong proponent of skeptical incompatibility
Sidelight
Isaac Bashevis Singer, 20th c. novelist, was asked about whether he believed in free will. He replied yes, he had no choice. Which reminds me of an old joke. Think about the eagle, frog and truck driver as thinking they were executing their actions freely:
Moses, Jesus, and a bearded old man are playing golf. Moses drives a long one, which lands on the fairway but rolls directly toward the pond. Moses raises his club, parts the water, and the ball rolls safely to the other side.
Jesus also hits a long one toward the same pond, but just as it's about to land in the center, it hovers above the surface. Jesus casually walks out on the pond and chips one onto the green.
The bearded man's drive hits a fence and bounces out onto the street, where it caroms off an oncoming truck and back onto the fairway. It's headed directly for the pond, but it lands on a lily-pad, where a frog sees it and snatches it into his mouth. And then an eagle swoops down, grabs the frog, and flies away. As the eagle and frog pass over the green the frog drops the ball out of its mouth and the ball lands in the cup for a hole-in-one.
Moses turns to Jesus and says, "I hate playing with your dad."
Why I'm Once Again On a Kick Over The Main Event
It has to do with the literally hundreds of articles I've been reading over the past year on how bacteria in our gut has been strongly linked to debilitating dis-ease and how those microbes can influence our thinking. Our microbiome in general (bacteria, viruses, fungi and other microbes) outnumber "our" own cells 10-1. Peer-reviewed, well-designed studies have linked our microbiome to obesity, diabetes, atherosclerosis, asthma, colon cancer, ulcers, irritable bowel syndrome, lymphoma, malnutrition, hypertension, liver cancer, psoriasis, even ear wax. Whether we were born vaginally or by Caesarian seems to have an enormous influence on our microbiome, and therefore immune system and therefore general health. All of this makes me think 1.) In scientific endeavors, we as a species, hardly know anything so far. 2.) This stuff is very exciting and offers real hope for the cure or alleviation of lots of human suffering, but the complexity is staggering. 3.) If all of this stuff is true, it has bewilderingly fascinating implications for Qs surrounding The Main Event, no? One thing most of us can say: "Boy, my gut bacteria have really done a number on me!...I just don't know to what extent, to what part of 'me'...and why. I don't even know all that much about how bacteria work."
Toxoplasmosis cycle
Briefly: A Few Other Mitigators
Enforced miseducation. Public Relations and advertising. Kahneman and Tversky's uncovering of a litany of unconscious biases in human minds, even the best of those minds, including these two last named, one of who won a Nobel Prize. Side effects, TV, social media, memes, possibly quantum indeterminism.
Sounds Like Science Fiction: Toxoplasmosis gondii
A Czech biologist named Jaroslav Flegr, sitting in then-Soviet-controlled Czechoslvakia, was reading a Richard Dawkins book. Dawkins wrote how a flatworm gets into an ant and hijacks its nervous system by altering a protein. When the temperature drops, ants normally go underground. But a zombified ant instead heads to the top of a blade of grass, where its mandibles clamp hard onto the tip of the blade of grass, until it's eaten by a cow or a sheep. In the ungulate's stomach, the flatworm is in the perfect environment to reproduce. Flegr started thinking about his own behavior and the ant's around 1990. He knew some things about Toxoplasmosis gondii, a single-celled protozoa that cats carry in their bodies. Flegr remembered walking out into heavy traffic and didn't jump out of the way if cars honked. He had openly criticized the communists running Czechoslovakia, which could have led him to be imprisoned, but he was lucky. When studying in Turkey, there was sectarian violence and gunshots, but he stayed calm, to the surprise of his colleagues and even himself.
Flegr wondered if he had been infected by Toxo and if it caused this odd behavior. Luckily the Charles University at Prague, where he'd recently gotten hired, had just developed a superior test for Toxo: he had it.
It turns out around 10-20% of Unistatians are infected with Toxo. 30-40% of Czechs are infected. In France: up to 55%, probably due to eating undercooked meat. Billions worldwide are infected with it. It gets into your brain - I know this sounds like a Lovecrafty psychedelic horror story, but it's true! - and hibernates there, causing cysts. Now: take a guy like Flegr: he's not all that worked up about it, and he has it and knows as much about it as anyone. So it's not that horrible. But it is pretty effing weird...
Here's what Toxo does in your brain, according to the latest research: it forms little cysts inside certain neurons, quietly altering connections. If you watched the Sapolsky video I linked to above, you've heard a lot of this already. Toxo alters those parts of the brain that respond to dopamine and it just so happens its primary actions on human behavior have to do with the basics, the primal circuits: sexual arousal, fear, and anxiety. The protozoan Toxo knows exactly what to do to ramp up production of dopamine, causing pleasure-seeking: sex, drugs, rock and roll.
Toxo alters trust in others and how outgoing we are, and this is sex-specific: men become more introverted and suspicious while women become more extroverted and trusting. Isn't this the WEIRDEST stuff? Toxo alters our response to scents. In lab rats infected with Toxo, they loved the smell of cat urine, which is supposed to scare the hell out of them. Toxo-infected rats become easy prey for cats...which is just what Toxo wants! Be aware of the kitty litter box! Wash your vegetables very well, cook your meat well-done, try not to drink water that might be contaminated with cat feces. (Difficult in much of the Third World, but they have other problems.) Toxo is linked to car crashes, suicides, and schizophrenia.
Car crashes? Yea: people just aren't as vigilant on the road with Toxo on the brain. Toxo-infected folks are 2 1/2 times more likely to be in a car accident. People don't mean to be bad drivers; they just sorta don't care all that much behind the wheel. Lapses of concentration, possibly an increased propensity to go into bizarre daydreams? Sapolsky thinks this is just the tip of the iceberg: there are probably all sorts of "puppetmaster" microbes we haven't identified yet. Sapolsky also says the damage done by Toxo to drivers is not as bad as drunk or texting drivers. To make the roads safer, deal with drunks and texters first. Just the fact that a protozoa can get into your brain and influence us in such intimate ways: ain't life grand?
How does all this alter your ideas about The Main Event?
The world of biology is thronged with stories about insects, fish and crustaceans becoming "zombified" by some other organism with its own plans.
Besides Toxo, Sapolsky the incompatibilist thinks we can't come to grips with not having free will, and we suffer for it. For him, every move we make is part of an intricate cascade of genetic, cellular, cultural and personal factors. Toxo is just one more Damned Thing.
Public intellectual and philosopher Daniel Dennett
Daniel Dennett
I'll give a compatibilist the last word here. I find his arguments nuanced but I also find him arrogant. He thinks neurobiology is no place to think about The Main Event. He rejects quantum indeterminism because we must look for explanations for a "free will worth wanting" at a higher level of complexity, a more human-leveled explanatory scheme. For Dennett, we are indeed enmeshed in causality and yet we are autonomous free willists. One narrative he goes for comes from John von Neumann and Oskar Morgenstern's Theory of Games: when we take an intentional stance we have a theory of mind: we know what others know and know they know we know X, Q, Z, etc. On this level, we are free agents who can plan for possible exigencies, make rational decisions and be held accountable. He's used animals and plants as examples of living things that cannot possibly have the intentional stance. But some of the stuff I've read about plant and animal behavior lately? I wonder if Dennett is guilty of not reading enough outside his own world of Expertise. I do like this passage from him, from an article in Prospect magazine, on our topic:
What people seem to want - though articulating this idea causes them to backtrack in embarrassment - is to be a sort of god, perched somehow on the edge of the physical universe, neither a part of it or remote from it, able to interfere "at will" with its ongoing streams of causation, without at the same time being caused by these very streams to choose which of the options to favor.
Thanks for reading this bloated rant...but maybe you had no choice?
just a few sources that were used here:
Dennett's review of Sam Harris's book Free Will, (2012):
http://www.naturalism.org/Dennett_reflections_on_Harris's_Free_Will.pdf
Dennett's article from Prospect, in which he champions fellow philosopher Alfred Mele:
http://www.prospectmagazine.co.uk/features/are-we-free
In case you missed the link: Sapolsky's 25 min video-talk on Toxo:
http://edge.org/conversation/toxo
Kathleen McAuliffe's 2012 article on Flegr from Atlantic:
http://www.theatlantic.com/magazine/archive/2012/03/how-your-cat-is-making-you-crazy/308873/
Discussion about UC Davis study about how random fluctuations in the brain may allow for free will:
http://www.3quarksdaily.com/3quarksdaily/2014/09/randomness-the-ghost-in-the-machine.html?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=feed&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+3quarksdaily+%283quarksdaily%29
Barbara Fried's "Beyond Blame," makes a case for abandoning blame:
http://bostonreview.net/forum/barbara-fried-beyond-blame-moral-responsibility-philosophy-law
Sci-Am: "Is Free Will An Illusion?":
http://www.scientificamerican.com/article/is-free-will-an-illusion/
"The Body's Ecosystem," The Scientist, Aug 2014:
http://www.the-scientist.com/?articles.view/articleNo/40600/title/The-Body-s-Ecosystem/
microbiome superstar Rob Knight's TED talk:
http://www.ted.com/talks/rob_knight_how_our_microbes_make_us_who_we_are?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=feed&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+TEDTalks_video+%28TEDTalks+Main+%28SD%29+-+Site%29
"Turd transplant leads to rapid weight gain and obesity" Boing Boing:
http://boingboing.net/2015/02/07/turd-transplant-leads-to-rapid.html
"The E. Coli Made Me Do It": gut microbes and human behavior, New Yorker:
http://www.newyorker.com/tech/elements/the-e-coli-made-me-do-it
"Do Gut Bacteria Rule Our Minds?":
http://www.ucsf.edu/news/2014/08/116526/do-gut-bacteria-rule-our-minds
"Can Microbes in the Gut Influence the Brain?":
http://www.livescience.com/49373-google-hangout-on-brain-and-microbiome.html
"The Super-Abundant Virus Controlling Your Gut Bacteria":
http://www.newscientist.com/article/dn25954-the-superabundant-virus-controlling-your-gut-bacteria.html#.VQFhESgx9FL
Plato and a Platypus Walk Into A Bar..., by Cathcart and Klein
The Epigenetics Revolution, by Nessa Carey
The Overweening Generalist is largely about people who like to read fat, weighty "difficult" books - or thin, profound ones - and how I/They/We stand in relation to the hyper-acceleration of digital social-media-tized culture. It is not a neo-Luddite attack on digital media; it is an attempt to negotiate with it, and to subtly make claims for the role of generalist intellectual types in the scheme of things.
Overweening Generalist
Showing posts with label Robert Sapolsky. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Robert Sapolsky. Show all posts
Thursday, March 12, 2015
Monday, September 3, 2012
Hoarders: Glad It Ain't Me! (or...is it?)
Ever see the TV show Hoarders? I've seen a couple episodes, which were enough for me. I'm told there is at least one copycat show on cable TV on roughly the same subject. What made me wonder: is this a serotonin imbalance? Is it related to OCD? What? Some researchers at the National Institute for Mental Health are making some inroads using fMRI machines and things like junk mail, but I'll get to that later.
I previously wrote about my baseball card collecting as a youth, and tried to link it to Walter Benjamin's idea about the essence of the Original, which, in my research on Benjamin, I linked to a hashish-inspired idea that has influenced the postmodernists.
Lately - in addition to Hoarders - I've gotten into conversations with friends over their collections, their prized possessions that seemingly would have no value to anyone but themselves, and experiences being in others' dwellings that were...how do I put this delicately? Cluttered badly.
I've never been in a house that was this hoarded-up. Click on
the pic for a more in-your-face view. You thought You had
problems?
Robert Sapolsky and Rice Krispie Treats
And I've been thinking of one of my intellectual gurus, Robert Sapolsky, who emphasizes the metaphor of the Continuum when we think of diseases, and it's really easy to see it when we think of things like, say, Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder. Sapolsky would hold a little end-of-the-semester party for students at Stanford, and make sure Rice Krispie Treats would be part of the celebration. The picture I linked to there, notice, has all the little treats cut from the pan in idealized rectangles or squares. At some point, during every party, Sapolsky would sneak back into the room where the cookies and cakes were, and notice that people who had used a knife to cut their own treats would always cut at nice 90 degree angles. Sapolsky would quickly and surreptitiously make some odd, uneven, symmetry-ruining cut in the Treats, eat his confection, then rejoin the party. After a short period when others had gone into the food room for Treats and other goodies, he'd go back in, and sure enough: someone had "fixed" the irregular angle he'd cut and recouped the 90 degree angle. His point? We all have a bit of this OCD-ishness in us, even the best and brightest Neuroscience students at Stanford.
When you drop mail in a public post office box on a street corner, do you ever check again to make sure your mail actually fell into the box and didn't get "stuck" inside the lid? If you do, don't feel bad: more people than you'd think also do this.
If you want to read a really mindblowing essay on how this might relate evolutionarily to the rise of religious ritual and dogma, read "Circling The Blankets For God," from Sapolsky's book The Trouble With Testosterone. Or: HERE 'tis from Scribd.
Ahh...but what does this have to do with hoarding? I'm not sure. Let's delve a bit deeper.
My Own Magical Thinking
When I met my future wife's parents I quickly took a strong liking to her father, who had been born in North Carolina in 1919, with four brothers, and they did subsistence farming near Chapel Hill. During the Great Depression they had nothing except what they grew for themselves. When what we call "World War Two" came around, he enlisted, but his eyes had been crossed since he was born, so the Army fixed his eyesight and he learned radio repair instead of having to fight Germans or Japanese. He caught tuberculosis during the war, and was in a TB ward for five years, until they were sure they had one of a new class of miracle drugs called "antibiotics" that could fix him up without harm. While in the ward he taught himself advanced mathematics, relativity, and the basics of quantum mechanics from books brought around in a bookmobile. After the war he owned the first TV repair shop in Los Angeles - he had no formal college! - and then spent the rest of his life working in aviation and on NASA-related projects as an engineer. This guy was amazing. He was wry, very funny, relentlessly logical, and had a thick North Carolina accent until death. What's my point?
One day my wife, after visiting him, brought me a bunch of his old cardigan sweaters and asked me if I wanted any of them. I said Hell Yes! I had never been a cardigan-wearer, but just wearing her Old Man's old sweaters would be cool. They had something to do with Him.
I wore those sweaters until they were totally unwearable: holes in the elbows, the seams ripped at the shoulder, etc. I guess part of it was I thought my cardigan-wearing fit my "weirdo intellectual" image of myself, but maybe just as much: I thought possibly a bit of my beloved father-in-law's Cool Guy essence was seeping into me, and it's making me a smarter and funnier dude. I dunno. Maybe? I "know" this is crass mysticism on the Main Level. But I didn't throw those cardigans away; I kept them in my closet. After he died, every time I saw those things piled in my closet I thought of him. A few of 'em are still around.
What is this all about? Respect? Yes, but respect doesn't totally explain it.
Dr. Bruce Hood and the Essence Behind Sacred Objects
Cognitive psychologist Bruce Hood sheds some light on all this, I think. In his book Supersense: Why We Believe In The Unbelievable, he relates his delight in a jam-packed memorabilia shop, and how he liked to talk to the owner about why people felt sentimental over Olde Things. Things that were, seemingly, ephemeral. Like trinkets and old postcards. The owner told Hood he thought people collected things in order to remind themselves of when they were younger and happier. Here's Hood:
"Why do people do it? Collecting seems such an odd behavior in a world of instant upgrades, duplication, and modern innovation. Why look backward? When I entered the collector's domain, I discovered a mirror world populated by legions of people who traipse around car trunk sales and flea markets every weekend seeking authenticity. Come rain or shine, these people were out in droves, looking for the original." (198)
A curio shop, somewhere in the East.
The original. We're back to Walter Benjamin again, in his ingenious "The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction." Or are we? Is there another, somewhat less romantic way to model the search for the value of the Original? Hood cites superstar neuroscientist Simon Baron-Cohen (cousin of "Borat" Sacha Baron-Cohen, btw), who has shown that men seem more naturally inclined than women to order and systems, and Hood thinks "completing the set" seems more a male thing than female.
Hood has some neuroscientifically fine riffs about art and forgeries. There have been forgeries of famous paintings that sold for a lot of money, because "experts" vouched for the painting's authenticity. When it is found that the paintings are forgeries, the shit hits the fan, people are outraged, and the value of the now-realized-fake sinks into the abyss. But if everyone was fooled until some sleuth figured out there was something amiss with the provenance, why does it matter to people if it was real or a fake?
All of us think we know the answer, and perhaps many of us do know, but what Hood says about Why we care so much seems very interesting to me.
"I think that an art forgery is unacceptable because it does not generate the psychological essentialist view that something of the artist is literally in the work," says Hood on page 203, op. cit.
Psychological essentialism? Well, I get it, if only because of my father-in-law's cardigans. But let's dig a tad deeper with Hood before I get to the whole hoarding thing...
Plutarch told the story of the preservation of legendary Athenian king Theseus's ship. As years passed, some of the wood rotted and was replaced by new planks. After awhile it became unclear if the ship was still Theseus's. Was it "really" the "same" ship? What if the old rotted planks had been kept and reassembled into some battered old ship...would that be the "real" one?
(No matter how old you are right now, sitting there reading this, most of the cells in your body that make "you" are only ten years old at the oldest. That "you" from 12 years ago? All of the cells have been replaced!)
Hood and colleagues built an impressive-looking Big Machine with lights and dials on it: a Copy Box Machine. Here's what it could do: you asked kids to put their beloved blankie or teddy bear into it, and one exactly the same but "different" would come out the other side. Every kid wanted the Original back.
(see Supersense, pp.203-213)
"So I would argue that the behavior of the toddler toward his grubby blanket and the obsession of a fanatical collector to own original memorabilia reflect the same human tendency to see objects as possessing invisible properties that originate from significant individuals. By owning objects and touching them, we can connect with others, and that gives us the sense of distributed existence over time and with others. The net effect is that we become increasingly linked together by a sense of deeper hidden structures." (221)
"Distributed existence over time and with others." Is that too much for our egos to ask in an indifferent universe? Apparently not! (More than one blogger has cited their blog as Internet immortality, so I guess you can count me in as one desirous of my existence distributed over time, with others.)
Mutt: You want your existence distributed to others over time?
Jute: Aye! Hey why not?
Hoarding
Then what's with all the hoarding? Dr. David Tolin, working under the auspices of the National Institute of Mental Health, had a control group, a hoarding group, and people with OCD collect their junk mail for a long time, and bring it in to the lab, where they were asked to climb into an fMRI machine. When a picture of their mail came up, the areas of the brain in the hoarders that have to do with weighing the value of things, emotional decisions and assessment of risk, unpleasant feelings, and making a decision about personal possessions showed an unusual lighting pattern: hoarders's brains were not the same as the OCD people's, and the control group was, of course, more "normal." If they saw a picture of someone else's junk mail, the hoarders had an easier time thinking about what they would do with it. Two basic reports on Tolin and his team's findings are HERE and HERE. A CNN video on these findings is HERE.
Bruce Hood, like Sapolsky, emphasizes the Continuum when analyzing his data. Some of us seem to have much less of a magical/religious-like impulse with regard to special objects. Some people may watch Hoarders for lurid reasons, for many reasons, but I think it's well-established that hoarders just have a bit more trouble making sense of what objects are truly valuable than the rest of us do. And as for objects that we're attached to, for sentimental reasons, this seems roaringly on a continuum, and at odds with publicly-stated norms. For example, as Hood writes, "Most people are too embarrassed to admit they still have their sentimental childhood objects. However, a recent survey of two thousand solitary travelers by a U.K. hotel chain revealed that one in five men slept with a teddy bear - more than the female travelers." (210)
Whew! Now I don't feel so weird about hoarding my 2000 some-odd books, many of which I probably won't read again. (But what a pain in the ass when you need to move!)
I previously wrote about my baseball card collecting as a youth, and tried to link it to Walter Benjamin's idea about the essence of the Original, which, in my research on Benjamin, I linked to a hashish-inspired idea that has influenced the postmodernists.
Lately - in addition to Hoarders - I've gotten into conversations with friends over their collections, their prized possessions that seemingly would have no value to anyone but themselves, and experiences being in others' dwellings that were...how do I put this delicately? Cluttered badly.
I've never been in a house that was this hoarded-up. Click on
the pic for a more in-your-face view. You thought You had
problems?
Robert Sapolsky and Rice Krispie Treats
And I've been thinking of one of my intellectual gurus, Robert Sapolsky, who emphasizes the metaphor of the Continuum when we think of diseases, and it's really easy to see it when we think of things like, say, Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder. Sapolsky would hold a little end-of-the-semester party for students at Stanford, and make sure Rice Krispie Treats would be part of the celebration. The picture I linked to there, notice, has all the little treats cut from the pan in idealized rectangles or squares. At some point, during every party, Sapolsky would sneak back into the room where the cookies and cakes were, and notice that people who had used a knife to cut their own treats would always cut at nice 90 degree angles. Sapolsky would quickly and surreptitiously make some odd, uneven, symmetry-ruining cut in the Treats, eat his confection, then rejoin the party. After a short period when others had gone into the food room for Treats and other goodies, he'd go back in, and sure enough: someone had "fixed" the irregular angle he'd cut and recouped the 90 degree angle. His point? We all have a bit of this OCD-ishness in us, even the best and brightest Neuroscience students at Stanford.
When you drop mail in a public post office box on a street corner, do you ever check again to make sure your mail actually fell into the box and didn't get "stuck" inside the lid? If you do, don't feel bad: more people than you'd think also do this.
If you want to read a really mindblowing essay on how this might relate evolutionarily to the rise of religious ritual and dogma, read "Circling The Blankets For God," from Sapolsky's book The Trouble With Testosterone. Or: HERE 'tis from Scribd.
Ahh...but what does this have to do with hoarding? I'm not sure. Let's delve a bit deeper.
My Own Magical Thinking
When I met my future wife's parents I quickly took a strong liking to her father, who had been born in North Carolina in 1919, with four brothers, and they did subsistence farming near Chapel Hill. During the Great Depression they had nothing except what they grew for themselves. When what we call "World War Two" came around, he enlisted, but his eyes had been crossed since he was born, so the Army fixed his eyesight and he learned radio repair instead of having to fight Germans or Japanese. He caught tuberculosis during the war, and was in a TB ward for five years, until they were sure they had one of a new class of miracle drugs called "antibiotics" that could fix him up without harm. While in the ward he taught himself advanced mathematics, relativity, and the basics of quantum mechanics from books brought around in a bookmobile. After the war he owned the first TV repair shop in Los Angeles - he had no formal college! - and then spent the rest of his life working in aviation and on NASA-related projects as an engineer. This guy was amazing. He was wry, very funny, relentlessly logical, and had a thick North Carolina accent until death. What's my point?
One day my wife, after visiting him, brought me a bunch of his old cardigan sweaters and asked me if I wanted any of them. I said Hell Yes! I had never been a cardigan-wearer, but just wearing her Old Man's old sweaters would be cool. They had something to do with Him.
I wore those sweaters until they were totally unwearable: holes in the elbows, the seams ripped at the shoulder, etc. I guess part of it was I thought my cardigan-wearing fit my "weirdo intellectual" image of myself, but maybe just as much: I thought possibly a bit of my beloved father-in-law's Cool Guy essence was seeping into me, and it's making me a smarter and funnier dude. I dunno. Maybe? I "know" this is crass mysticism on the Main Level. But I didn't throw those cardigans away; I kept them in my closet. After he died, every time I saw those things piled in my closet I thought of him. A few of 'em are still around.
What is this all about? Respect? Yes, but respect doesn't totally explain it.
Dr. Bruce Hood and the Essence Behind Sacred Objects
Cognitive psychologist Bruce Hood sheds some light on all this, I think. In his book Supersense: Why We Believe In The Unbelievable, he relates his delight in a jam-packed memorabilia shop, and how he liked to talk to the owner about why people felt sentimental over Olde Things. Things that were, seemingly, ephemeral. Like trinkets and old postcards. The owner told Hood he thought people collected things in order to remind themselves of when they were younger and happier. Here's Hood:
"Why do people do it? Collecting seems such an odd behavior in a world of instant upgrades, duplication, and modern innovation. Why look backward? When I entered the collector's domain, I discovered a mirror world populated by legions of people who traipse around car trunk sales and flea markets every weekend seeking authenticity. Come rain or shine, these people were out in droves, looking for the original." (198)
A curio shop, somewhere in the East.
The original. We're back to Walter Benjamin again, in his ingenious "The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction." Or are we? Is there another, somewhat less romantic way to model the search for the value of the Original? Hood cites superstar neuroscientist Simon Baron-Cohen (cousin of "Borat" Sacha Baron-Cohen, btw), who has shown that men seem more naturally inclined than women to order and systems, and Hood thinks "completing the set" seems more a male thing than female.
Hood has some neuroscientifically fine riffs about art and forgeries. There have been forgeries of famous paintings that sold for a lot of money, because "experts" vouched for the painting's authenticity. When it is found that the paintings are forgeries, the shit hits the fan, people are outraged, and the value of the now-realized-fake sinks into the abyss. But if everyone was fooled until some sleuth figured out there was something amiss with the provenance, why does it matter to people if it was real or a fake?
All of us think we know the answer, and perhaps many of us do know, but what Hood says about Why we care so much seems very interesting to me.
"I think that an art forgery is unacceptable because it does not generate the psychological essentialist view that something of the artist is literally in the work," says Hood on page 203, op. cit.
Psychological essentialism? Well, I get it, if only because of my father-in-law's cardigans. But let's dig a tad deeper with Hood before I get to the whole hoarding thing...
Plutarch told the story of the preservation of legendary Athenian king Theseus's ship. As years passed, some of the wood rotted and was replaced by new planks. After awhile it became unclear if the ship was still Theseus's. Was it "really" the "same" ship? What if the old rotted planks had been kept and reassembled into some battered old ship...would that be the "real" one?
(No matter how old you are right now, sitting there reading this, most of the cells in your body that make "you" are only ten years old at the oldest. That "you" from 12 years ago? All of the cells have been replaced!)
Hood and colleagues built an impressive-looking Big Machine with lights and dials on it: a Copy Box Machine. Here's what it could do: you asked kids to put their beloved blankie or teddy bear into it, and one exactly the same but "different" would come out the other side. Every kid wanted the Original back.
(see Supersense, pp.203-213)
"So I would argue that the behavior of the toddler toward his grubby blanket and the obsession of a fanatical collector to own original memorabilia reflect the same human tendency to see objects as possessing invisible properties that originate from significant individuals. By owning objects and touching them, we can connect with others, and that gives us the sense of distributed existence over time and with others. The net effect is that we become increasingly linked together by a sense of deeper hidden structures." (221)
"Distributed existence over time and with others." Is that too much for our egos to ask in an indifferent universe? Apparently not! (More than one blogger has cited their blog as Internet immortality, so I guess you can count me in as one desirous of my existence distributed over time, with others.)
Mutt: You want your existence distributed to others over time?
Jute: Aye! Hey why not?
Hoarding
Then what's with all the hoarding? Dr. David Tolin, working under the auspices of the National Institute of Mental Health, had a control group, a hoarding group, and people with OCD collect their junk mail for a long time, and bring it in to the lab, where they were asked to climb into an fMRI machine. When a picture of their mail came up, the areas of the brain in the hoarders that have to do with weighing the value of things, emotional decisions and assessment of risk, unpleasant feelings, and making a decision about personal possessions showed an unusual lighting pattern: hoarders's brains were not the same as the OCD people's, and the control group was, of course, more "normal." If they saw a picture of someone else's junk mail, the hoarders had an easier time thinking about what they would do with it. Two basic reports on Tolin and his team's findings are HERE and HERE. A CNN video on these findings is HERE.
Bruce Hood, like Sapolsky, emphasizes the Continuum when analyzing his data. Some of us seem to have much less of a magical/religious-like impulse with regard to special objects. Some people may watch Hoarders for lurid reasons, for many reasons, but I think it's well-established that hoarders just have a bit more trouble making sense of what objects are truly valuable than the rest of us do. And as for objects that we're attached to, for sentimental reasons, this seems roaringly on a continuum, and at odds with publicly-stated norms. For example, as Hood writes, "Most people are too embarrassed to admit they still have their sentimental childhood objects. However, a recent survey of two thousand solitary travelers by a U.K. hotel chain revealed that one in five men slept with a teddy bear - more than the female travelers." (210)
Whew! Now I don't feel so weird about hoarding my 2000 some-odd books, many of which I probably won't read again. (But what a pain in the ass when you need to move!)
Sunday, July 3, 2011
Robert Sapolsky and Me and Musical Tastes, the Pursuit of Novelty, and Something on the Free-Floating Unattached Intellectuals
In a gem of an essay, titled "Open Season" by Robert Sapolsky, culled in his book Monkeyluv: and Other Essays on Our Lives as Animals
he recounts the very annoying administrative assistant he had whose work was superb but the 20 year old seemed absurdly open-minded when it came to music:
"He'd be hunched over his computer, his CD recorder blasting away something horrendous by whatever group twenty-year-olds are listening to. That was fine; while it could be scientifically proven that his music was inferior to what my generation listened to, it was his prerogative to listen to nothing but that junk. What was irritating was that he didn't just listen to that. Sonic Youth for hours and then suddenly, late Beethoven. And then Grand Ole Opry. He kept switching what he listened to. Gregorian chants, Shostakovich, John Coltrane. Big-band hits, Yma Sumac. Puccini arias, Pygmy hunting songs. Philip Glass, klezmer classics. He was spending the first paychecks of his life in methodical exploration of new types of music, giving them a careful listening, forming opinions, hating some of the stuff, loving the process."
[Full disclosure: Sapolsky is not only a brilliant neurobiologist, lecturer, and baboonologist, he's one of our best Third Culture writers, and he's really funny. I love all his books. He's got a knack for relating very abstruse scientific ideas with clarity and humor. I literally laugh out loud when I read his books. So: I'm biased here.]
The 20 year old was absurdly open minded in a lot of other ways, too, and it bothered Sapolsky because it reminded him how closed he'd become. He loves all Mahler, but admits he keeps listening to the same two symphonies. He loves reggae, but it's really the same Greatest Hits tape from Bob Marley all the time. As a neurobiologist, what accounts for this? Is it normal? If so, why? Is there a general age in which people stop being open to new things? He sets to find out, and it turns out that "We found that most people are twenty years old or younger when first hearing the popular music they choose to listen to for the rest of their lives."
I'll pause for a moment to let you think about this.
---------------------------
Is there a window before we close down to novelty? Yes, it looks like "if you are more than thirty-five years old when some new popular music is introduced, there's a greater than 95 percent chance that you will never listen to the stuff."
Okay, I was well over 35 when I fell in love with Radiohead. But is that "new popular music"? It felt like it to me when I bought OK Computer. But I remember thinking there seemed like an occult debt they had to Pink Floyd. Still, I loved that record. (Yes, I still say "record.") Then I got the earlier Pablo Honey, which had "Creep" on it; I was surprised I knew a song by them already: it had been on the radio station I associated with listeners who were younger than me. I felt sorta cool. How did I first get into Radiohead?
I had read they were great. By all kinds of people. I went into a CD emporium in Torrance, California and asked the 20 year old (a guess) if Radiohead was any good and he said - I remember this clearly - that they were the greatest band ever!, and led me to their CDs. Any one I should try first? Yea, OK Computer. Okay. And I was blown away. And I felt like I was listening to something new; I was growing. I hadn't lost it. This was long before I had read Sapolsky's essay...
Time to get another Radiohead CD. This time I chose The Bends. I distinctly remember thinking, after the first two listens-through, that this was their best yet. As I continued to play it over and over (mostly in my car as I drove around Los Angeles, then later Berkeley and San Francisco), that this was as good as Abbey Road.
----------------------------
Then I bought Kid A and Hail To The Thief. That was a wake-up. If you don't know Radiohead, they are one of the very rare bands that, doing well, having "made it" with a certain sound, they kept their integrity and went in another direction: damn the fans who want the same kinds of songs! We are artists and now we like making this relatively non-melodic, cacophonous, electronic-and-brass somewhat formless whateveryoucallit music!
I have tried to like those two CDs, but it's difficult. They are completely different animals than the three I already owned and loved. I expected Radiohead to "stick with the formula," I guess.
I also guessed I was getting old.
-----------------------------
At the same time I deeply admired their willingness to alienate me.
Why do I accept Beethoven sounding almost like he was born in 1890 and not 1770 when I listen to the late quartets? Because Beethoven is part of "the canon" of Western classical music, and you have to expect that with long-accepted geniuses.
No, that's a lousy answer. It doesn't address the issue.
My best answer: I subconsciously accepted that Beethoven was part of the canon, and we must expect to be challenged by High Culture; it might get exceedingly difficult. But with popular music, I think I also subconsciously relate it to what I listened to by around age 20, as Sapolsky said. It should be easy and fun...like my music was when I was 20! Radiohead, on the surface, sounded unique compared to anything I had heard and loved that was contemporary for me at age 20, but on those first three CDs there were song forms, hooks, riffs, distorted guitars, and melodies that were not out of bounds and were recognizable. I enjoyed their periods of extreme dissonance and temporary breakdowns into noise, but it always resolved quickly. That was "out there" but not out-of-bounds, apparently, to some part of my nervous system I seemed not all that acquainted with.
--------------------------------------
I started reading about Radiohead and their fans. I quickly found out the ones who loved Kid A and Hail To The Thief would rather not have anything to do with those of us who much preferred The Bends and were a bit baffled by the "new" Radiohead sounds. Which reminds me of Sapolsky.
-------------------------------------
You were between 28 to 39 before your window for trying exotic cuisine closed. You were between 18 and 23, and then your tongue studs, navel and genital piercing window closed. Why was this? Sapolsky tried applying neurobiological data, but none of it fit the data he'd collected. There is certainly no Novelty Center in the brain. So he looked into Psychology.
"In a critical finding, the psychologist Dean Keith Simonton has shown that the creative output and openness to others' novelty among the great minds comes with a twist - the decline isn't predicted by the person's age as much as by how long the person has worked in one discipline. Scholars who switch disciplines seem to get their openness rejuvenated. It's not chronological age, but 'disciplinary' age."
Let this be my attempt at a choice tidbit for the committed FFUIs out there. We have numerous "disciplines," and I can only surmise, via rigorous logic, that we will stay open-minded forever!
------------------------------------
Wait a minute: I haven't answered the music question very well, based on Sapolsky and his research and my own introspections, have I? Okay: it's well-known that scientific paradigms don't really get going until most of the Old Guard - maybe some are geniuses, but they are committed to the Old Paradigm too - they, uh, die off. It turns out, based on more of Simonton's work, that achieving eminence in a field is pretty much a death knell for openness to others' ideas in your field. (I'd just like to note here that Noam Chomsky was born in 1928, and his bombshell book in linguistics dropped in 1957, when he was 29 or so; George Lakoff was born in 1941. His book, Metaphors We Live By
, co-written with Mark Johnson and which finally represented a clean break from Chomsky's linguistic paradigm, was published in 1980.)
--------------------------------
Using Judith Rich Harris's work, Sapolsky wonders if this relates to the age/paradigm problem in science, because Harris shows how, at adolescence, peer groups want to define who they are largely by who they are not: they are not the older ones, especially: "So when you're fifteen, a key desire for you and your peers is to make it abundantly clear that you bear no resemblance to any age group that came before, and you seize upon whatever cultural outrage your generation has concocted. And a quarter century later, that same generational identification makes you cling to it - 'Why should I listen to this new junk? Our music was good enough when we were defeating Hitler/liking Ike/having sex at Woodstock.'"
--------------------------------
Delving further into the question, Sapolsky finds sociobiological/evolutionary psychological reasons why maybe we close to novelty and consolidate the Good Old Stuff, the Best Stuff: Cro-Magnons did better than Neanderthals because they lived about 50 percent longer. The old ones were likely to have had experience and knowledge about the last time the food sources dried up and how they solved the problem. A loving for that which is familiar may be a trait that has helped us survive.
-----------------------------
After Sapolsky first published "Open Season" in The New Yorker in 1998, he received many letters from octogenarians about to take their hang-gliding lesson that they were not like those people in the article, and that comforted Sapolsky. And it comforts me, but it does set me to wondering about my own cussedness, and where I might be not as open as I would like to be. I think I'm far more open-minded than most of the people my age, but I worry.
Is worrying about such a thing a sign that I'm still, relatively speaking, open-minded? The manifest ideas of the FFUI seem to virtually mandate a basic neophilic stance toward the world, while probably 80 percent of the population tends toward the neophobic. But this blogspew has meandered too long, and I will get into these ideas sometime after Bastille Day but before Halloween, unless I'm killed by some errant 80 year old hang gliding into my bedroom while I sleep; how's that for commitment?
[By the way: today I listened to Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young; Jimi Hendrix; and J.S. Bach. I had no idea I was going to write on this subject later in the day. If I had planned this post - something I rarely do - I might have gone out of my way to pop in my Ornette Coleman/Karlheinz Stockhausen/Imrat Khan/Klezmatics/hammered dulcimer CDs. I hope you're enjoying feeling smug, having listened to Between The Buried And Me or Balinese monkey music today. You're making me nervous...]
"He'd be hunched over his computer, his CD recorder blasting away something horrendous by whatever group twenty-year-olds are listening to. That was fine; while it could be scientifically proven that his music was inferior to what my generation listened to, it was his prerogative to listen to nothing but that junk. What was irritating was that he didn't just listen to that. Sonic Youth for hours and then suddenly, late Beethoven. And then Grand Ole Opry. He kept switching what he listened to. Gregorian chants, Shostakovich, John Coltrane. Big-band hits, Yma Sumac. Puccini arias, Pygmy hunting songs. Philip Glass, klezmer classics. He was spending the first paychecks of his life in methodical exploration of new types of music, giving them a careful listening, forming opinions, hating some of the stuff, loving the process."
[Full disclosure: Sapolsky is not only a brilliant neurobiologist, lecturer, and baboonologist, he's one of our best Third Culture writers, and he's really funny. I love all his books. He's got a knack for relating very abstruse scientific ideas with clarity and humor. I literally laugh out loud when I read his books. So: I'm biased here.]
The 20 year old was absurdly open minded in a lot of other ways, too, and it bothered Sapolsky because it reminded him how closed he'd become. He loves all Mahler, but admits he keeps listening to the same two symphonies. He loves reggae, but it's really the same Greatest Hits tape from Bob Marley all the time. As a neurobiologist, what accounts for this? Is it normal? If so, why? Is there a general age in which people stop being open to new things? He sets to find out, and it turns out that "We found that most people are twenty years old or younger when first hearing the popular music they choose to listen to for the rest of their lives."
I'll pause for a moment to let you think about this.
---------------------------
Is there a window before we close down to novelty? Yes, it looks like "if you are more than thirty-five years old when some new popular music is introduced, there's a greater than 95 percent chance that you will never listen to the stuff."
Okay, I was well over 35 when I fell in love with Radiohead. But is that "new popular music"? It felt like it to me when I bought OK Computer. But I remember thinking there seemed like an occult debt they had to Pink Floyd. Still, I loved that record. (Yes, I still say "record.") Then I got the earlier Pablo Honey, which had "Creep" on it; I was surprised I knew a song by them already: it had been on the radio station I associated with listeners who were younger than me. I felt sorta cool. How did I first get into Radiohead?
I had read they were great. By all kinds of people. I went into a CD emporium in Torrance, California and asked the 20 year old (a guess) if Radiohead was any good and he said - I remember this clearly - that they were the greatest band ever!, and led me to their CDs. Any one I should try first? Yea, OK Computer. Okay. And I was blown away. And I felt like I was listening to something new; I was growing. I hadn't lost it. This was long before I had read Sapolsky's essay...
Time to get another Radiohead CD. This time I chose The Bends. I distinctly remember thinking, after the first two listens-through, that this was their best yet. As I continued to play it over and over (mostly in my car as I drove around Los Angeles, then later Berkeley and San Francisco), that this was as good as Abbey Road.
----------------------------
Then I bought Kid A and Hail To The Thief. That was a wake-up. If you don't know Radiohead, they are one of the very rare bands that, doing well, having "made it" with a certain sound, they kept their integrity and went in another direction: damn the fans who want the same kinds of songs! We are artists and now we like making this relatively non-melodic, cacophonous, electronic-and-brass somewhat formless whateveryoucallit music!
I have tried to like those two CDs, but it's difficult. They are completely different animals than the three I already owned and loved. I expected Radiohead to "stick with the formula," I guess.
I also guessed I was getting old.
-----------------------------
At the same time I deeply admired their willingness to alienate me.
Why do I accept Beethoven sounding almost like he was born in 1890 and not 1770 when I listen to the late quartets? Because Beethoven is part of "the canon" of Western classical music, and you have to expect that with long-accepted geniuses.
No, that's a lousy answer. It doesn't address the issue.
My best answer: I subconsciously accepted that Beethoven was part of the canon, and we must expect to be challenged by High Culture; it might get exceedingly difficult. But with popular music, I think I also subconsciously relate it to what I listened to by around age 20, as Sapolsky said. It should be easy and fun...like my music was when I was 20! Radiohead, on the surface, sounded unique compared to anything I had heard and loved that was contemporary for me at age 20, but on those first three CDs there were song forms, hooks, riffs, distorted guitars, and melodies that were not out of bounds and were recognizable. I enjoyed their periods of extreme dissonance and temporary breakdowns into noise, but it always resolved quickly. That was "out there" but not out-of-bounds, apparently, to some part of my nervous system I seemed not all that acquainted with.
--------------------------------------
I started reading about Radiohead and their fans. I quickly found out the ones who loved Kid A and Hail To The Thief would rather not have anything to do with those of us who much preferred The Bends and were a bit baffled by the "new" Radiohead sounds. Which reminds me of Sapolsky.
-------------------------------------
You were between 28 to 39 before your window for trying exotic cuisine closed. You were between 18 and 23, and then your tongue studs, navel and genital piercing window closed. Why was this? Sapolsky tried applying neurobiological data, but none of it fit the data he'd collected. There is certainly no Novelty Center in the brain. So he looked into Psychology.
"In a critical finding, the psychologist Dean Keith Simonton has shown that the creative output and openness to others' novelty among the great minds comes with a twist - the decline isn't predicted by the person's age as much as by how long the person has worked in one discipline. Scholars who switch disciplines seem to get their openness rejuvenated. It's not chronological age, but 'disciplinary' age."
Let this be my attempt at a choice tidbit for the committed FFUIs out there. We have numerous "disciplines," and I can only surmise, via rigorous logic, that we will stay open-minded forever!
------------------------------------
Wait a minute: I haven't answered the music question very well, based on Sapolsky and his research and my own introspections, have I? Okay: it's well-known that scientific paradigms don't really get going until most of the Old Guard - maybe some are geniuses, but they are committed to the Old Paradigm too - they, uh, die off. It turns out, based on more of Simonton's work, that achieving eminence in a field is pretty much a death knell for openness to others' ideas in your field. (I'd just like to note here that Noam Chomsky was born in 1928, and his bombshell book in linguistics dropped in 1957, when he was 29 or so; George Lakoff was born in 1941. His book, Metaphors We Live By
--------------------------------
Using Judith Rich Harris's work, Sapolsky wonders if this relates to the age/paradigm problem in science, because Harris shows how, at adolescence, peer groups want to define who they are largely by who they are not: they are not the older ones, especially: "So when you're fifteen, a key desire for you and your peers is to make it abundantly clear that you bear no resemblance to any age group that came before, and you seize upon whatever cultural outrage your generation has concocted. And a quarter century later, that same generational identification makes you cling to it - 'Why should I listen to this new junk? Our music was good enough when we were defeating Hitler/liking Ike/having sex at Woodstock.'"
--------------------------------
Delving further into the question, Sapolsky finds sociobiological/evolutionary psychological reasons why maybe we close to novelty and consolidate the Good Old Stuff, the Best Stuff: Cro-Magnons did better than Neanderthals because they lived about 50 percent longer. The old ones were likely to have had experience and knowledge about the last time the food sources dried up and how they solved the problem. A loving for that which is familiar may be a trait that has helped us survive.
-----------------------------
After Sapolsky first published "Open Season" in The New Yorker in 1998, he received many letters from octogenarians about to take their hang-gliding lesson that they were not like those people in the article, and that comforted Sapolsky. And it comforts me, but it does set me to wondering about my own cussedness, and where I might be not as open as I would like to be. I think I'm far more open-minded than most of the people my age, but I worry.
Is worrying about such a thing a sign that I'm still, relatively speaking, open-minded? The manifest ideas of the FFUI seem to virtually mandate a basic neophilic stance toward the world, while probably 80 percent of the population tends toward the neophobic. But this blogspew has meandered too long, and I will get into these ideas sometime after Bastille Day but before Halloween, unless I'm killed by some errant 80 year old hang gliding into my bedroom while I sleep; how's that for commitment?
[By the way: today I listened to Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young; Jimi Hendrix; and J.S. Bach. I had no idea I was going to write on this subject later in the day. If I had planned this post - something I rarely do - I might have gone out of my way to pop in my Ornette Coleman/Karlheinz Stockhausen/Imrat Khan/Klezmatics/hammered dulcimer CDs. I hope you're enjoying feeling smug, having listened to Between The Buried And Me or Balinese monkey music today. You're making me nervous...]
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
Kaczynski Read The Great Books!: Further Ruminations on Intellectuals and Danger
"We all indeed have our dark sides. One evening, that great horned toad of an awkward intellectual, Karl Marx, came home from fulminating at the British Museum. 'At any rate,' he wrote to Engels that night, 'I hope the bourgeoisie will remember my carbuncles all the rest of their lives.' And well they did. Few of us can ever hope for that level of retributive pissiness. We merely fantasize about returning someday to our childhood neighborhoods, encountering the ex-bullies or the catty girls who were the in-group when we were not, and beating them into contused, bloodied contrition with our thick stack of diplomas."
-Robert Sapolsky, from a brilliant essay on the mixed feelings he and his colleagues had when they found out who The Unabomber was. "Beelzebub's SAT Scores" is collected in Sapolsky's book The Trouble With Testosterone.
--------------------------------------
A few years ago my brother - a theologian and very non-Marxist-Left-ish progressive Christian, and yes they do exist - asked me if I had heard of an intellectual named Jacques Ellul. I said I had: his work on the problems of technology and the fate of humans and the planet was widely known in my circles (not Christian, not very much concerned with theology either), and Ellul had written a very impressive text that I had bought but not yet read (how many of those we have!) called Propaganda: The Formation of Men's Attitudes
. I knew McLuhan had been influenced by Ellul. But Ellul's Technological Society
was the big splash.
My brother asked, have you read his book Anarchy and Christianity
? No, I'd never heard of it. A radical theologian friend of his had recommended it. The title alone was enough to get me to read it. And it was fascinating. A short book, and Ellul says early on that, hey you anarchists: you may not believe me, but we have a lot in common. Ellul had been, I thought, a sort of Left-ish catholic. He had fought against the Nazis in the French Resistance underground during WWII. He was definitely a Christian. But he thought of himself as a "Christian Anarchist."And his interpretation of the New Testament made more sense to me than just about anything I'd ever read about it. But I digress...
-------------------------
The kind of hazing that Sapolsky alluded to above? The group cruelty visited upon the kid who is a "nerd" and too smart, "weird," etc?: perhaps some of you remember this all-too-vividly. I got a lot of it when I was a kid. I fantasized about retribution. But I never did anything. (And don't plan to, Mr or Ms. National Security Agency-agent.) Kaczynski, of course, did do something. And he had read the Great Books. He had also written a brilliant doctoral dissertation on "boundary functions" in mathematics, a paper that math professor Peter Duren said was "an extraordinary dissertation, a spectacular paper," that provided the solution to a fundamental math problem that had eluded the best minds for years.
--------------------------
Anyway, sometime during the Renaissance science really got going. Aristotle had written almost 2000 years before then that everything had a teleology, a proper end, a true course and function. And because knowledge was potentially dangerous - see Prometheus and Pandora - there were other countervailing aspects in the human character that were needed. See this theme of dangerous knowledge coupled with a fateful arrogance in the plays of Aeschylus, Sophocles and Euripides: hubris, or overweening pride in knowledge which fed on itself, and led to madness and all sorts of unsane situations. Moderation, virtue, restraint, were necessary. Because stuff can get out of hand if you're really smart and...unbalanced.
----------------------------
This idea of restraint in science had, by 1920, evaporated. And we went from, say 1775, when James Watt made a good go of his steam engine, to Internet, satellite technology, exploration of the moon and other planets, the depths of the oceans, quarks, how DNA-RNA works, the scanning electron microscope,
etc, etc, etc....in a measly 225 years.
But: now we also have gulags, carpet bombing, concentration camps, cluster bombs, nuclear and biological weapons, "collateral damage" and let's not forget genocides too. All administered by well-educated people. Just as it's well-known that some Nazis committed atrocities by day and went home and hugged their children and wept over a Beethoven sonata at night, today men just outside of Las Vegas drive to work, conduct drone attacks on people on the other side of the globe, then after the workday rush off to see their daughter's ballet recital. Such wonders of technology!
Such a Faustian bargain we're all ensconced in?
------------------------------
Theodore Kaczynski, AKA The Unabomber, was caught finally in 1996, 18 years after he started his...spree. One of the books in Ted's cabin library was Paul Goodman's Growing Up Absurd
, a book that has meant a lot to me too. Here's a quote:
"The accumulation of the missed and compromised revolutions of modern times, with their consequent ambiguities and social imbalances, has fallen, and must fall, most heavily on the young, making it hard to grow up."
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Oh, there was another interesting book Ted had. His brother David later said it had been Ted's "Bible."
In 1999 an interview with Ted had appeared in a small radical magazine, Green Anarchist in which Ted said that in 1971 or 1972, he had "encountered Jacques Ellul's The Technological Society for the first time, and its message that society served technology, not vice-versa. Individuals, Ellul argued, were valued only insofar as they served this end. All social activities, but especially mathematics, education, and psychology, were shaped by and devoted solely to technological progress. Yet, as Kaczynski would explain later, these ideas did not surprise him. He had already encountered very similar ones at Harvard.
"'I had already developed at least 50 percent of the ideas of that book on my own,' he recalled in 1998. 'And...when I read the book for the first time, I was delighted, because I thought, 'Here is someone who is saying what I have already been thinking.'" - from Alston Chase's terrific book, Harvard and the Unabomber: The Education of an American Terrorist
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There is a line in Robert Shea and Robert Anton Wilson's Illuminatus!Trilogy
: "Convictions cause convicts." It seems Ted thought he had the Archimedean POV on social reality. Now he is a convict. What is the way out of this?, I ask rhetorically...
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"Civilization develops in man nothing but an added capacity to receive impressions - that is all. And the growth of that capacity increases his tendency to seek pleasure in spilling blood. You may have noticed that the most enthusiastic blood-letters have always been the most civilized of men."
-Fyodor Dostoevsky, Notes From Underground
, taught in the General Education syllabus that Kaczynski read at Harvard.
Kissinger has written numerous books on foreign policy, and he has been active in other capacities as well.
-Robert Sapolsky, from a brilliant essay on the mixed feelings he and his colleagues had when they found out who The Unabomber was. "Beelzebub's SAT Scores" is collected in Sapolsky's book The Trouble With Testosterone.
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A few years ago my brother - a theologian and very non-Marxist-Left-ish progressive Christian, and yes they do exist - asked me if I had heard of an intellectual named Jacques Ellul. I said I had: his work on the problems of technology and the fate of humans and the planet was widely known in my circles (not Christian, not very much concerned with theology either), and Ellul had written a very impressive text that I had bought but not yet read (how many of those we have!) called Propaganda: The Formation of Men's Attitudes
My brother asked, have you read his book Anarchy and Christianity
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The kind of hazing that Sapolsky alluded to above? The group cruelty visited upon the kid who is a "nerd" and too smart, "weird," etc?: perhaps some of you remember this all-too-vividly. I got a lot of it when I was a kid. I fantasized about retribution. But I never did anything. (And don't plan to, Mr or Ms. National Security Agency-agent.) Kaczynski, of course, did do something. And he had read the Great Books. He had also written a brilliant doctoral dissertation on "boundary functions" in mathematics, a paper that math professor Peter Duren said was "an extraordinary dissertation, a spectacular paper," that provided the solution to a fundamental math problem that had eluded the best minds for years.
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Anyway, sometime during the Renaissance science really got going. Aristotle had written almost 2000 years before then that everything had a teleology, a proper end, a true course and function. And because knowledge was potentially dangerous - see Prometheus and Pandora - there were other countervailing aspects in the human character that were needed. See this theme of dangerous knowledge coupled with a fateful arrogance in the plays of Aeschylus, Sophocles and Euripides: hubris, or overweening pride in knowledge which fed on itself, and led to madness and all sorts of unsane situations. Moderation, virtue, restraint, were necessary. Because stuff can get out of hand if you're really smart and...unbalanced.
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This idea of restraint in science had, by 1920, evaporated. And we went from, say 1775, when James Watt made a good go of his steam engine, to Internet, satellite technology, exploration of the moon and other planets, the depths of the oceans, quarks, how DNA-RNA works, the scanning electron microscope,
But: now we also have gulags, carpet bombing, concentration camps, cluster bombs, nuclear and biological weapons, "collateral damage" and let's not forget genocides too. All administered by well-educated people. Just as it's well-known that some Nazis committed atrocities by day and went home and hugged their children and wept over a Beethoven sonata at night, today men just outside of Las Vegas drive to work, conduct drone attacks on people on the other side of the globe, then after the workday rush off to see their daughter's ballet recital. Such wonders of technology!
Such a Faustian bargain we're all ensconced in?
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Theodore Kaczynski, AKA The Unabomber, was caught finally in 1996, 18 years after he started his...spree. One of the books in Ted's cabin library was Paul Goodman's Growing Up Absurd
"The accumulation of the missed and compromised revolutions of modern times, with their consequent ambiguities and social imbalances, has fallen, and must fall, most heavily on the young, making it hard to grow up."
-----------------------------
Oh, there was another interesting book Ted had. His brother David later said it had been Ted's "Bible."
In 1999 an interview with Ted had appeared in a small radical magazine, Green Anarchist in which Ted said that in 1971 or 1972, he had "encountered Jacques Ellul's The Technological Society for the first time, and its message that society served technology, not vice-versa. Individuals, Ellul argued, were valued only insofar as they served this end. All social activities, but especially mathematics, education, and psychology, were shaped by and devoted solely to technological progress. Yet, as Kaczynski would explain later, these ideas did not surprise him. He had already encountered very similar ones at Harvard.
"'I had already developed at least 50 percent of the ideas of that book on my own,' he recalled in 1998. 'And...when I read the book for the first time, I was delighted, because I thought, 'Here is someone who is saying what I have already been thinking.'" - from Alston Chase's terrific book, Harvard and the Unabomber: The Education of an American Terrorist
------------------------------
There is a line in Robert Shea and Robert Anton Wilson's Illuminatus!Trilogy
-----------------------------
"Civilization develops in man nothing but an added capacity to receive impressions - that is all. And the growth of that capacity increases his tendency to seek pleasure in spilling blood. You may have noticed that the most enthusiastic blood-letters have always been the most civilized of men."
-Fyodor Dostoevsky, Notes From Underground
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| Henry Kissinger: ordered the secret bombing of Cambodia, won the Nobel Peace Prize, "statesman." |
Saturday, May 21, 2011
Robert Sapolsky On Us And Our Cousins
This is one of the most eloquent talks I've ever seen on humans and how they are alike and different from their other-animal cousins. By the end your socks ought to have been knocked off, out the window and never to be worn again. Sapolsky is probably the funniest of all the Third Culture thinkers, and I cherish all of his books. I hope you enjoy it. It's less than 38 minutes long, and pretty darned spellbinding, to my eyes/ears. 2009 graduation at Stanford. The dean talks for about five minutes. Sapolsky is introduced around 4:50. (If you've ever wanted to study neurobiology via audio or DVD, Sapolsky has a knockout course available here.)
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