When I asked one of the many text-to-image AIs to generate a picture of someone experiencing awe, this is what I got.[1] Have a look at this awe-some face. The mouth and eyes are both wide open, eyebrows raised.
Ever since Darwin,[2] scientists have used the characteristic features of facial expressions to guess what those expressions are for: what the organism is trying to signal[3] to observers, whether friend or foe. So, you know, a dog or a monkey bares its fangs to signal that it’s prepared to use them. Now, this area of study has its fair share of controversy but, generally, these sorts of facial expressions are broadly understood as a quick way to signal one’s state or intentions. These signals can be useful to the signaler. The monkey signaling that it’s prepared to defend itself is trying to save itself the trouble of actually having to do so. And, on the more positive side, when a dog wags its tail, it’s letting you know that it (currently) poses no threat, so you should feel very free to give it a treat.
Facial expressions, as Darwin explained, provide clues about the function of the emotion that is associated with the expression. Disgust provides a vivid example. Generally,[4] the disgust expression seems to be protecting entries into the body— narrowed eyes, scrunched nostrils—with the most obvious bit being the tongue, stuck out as if expelling something noxious from one’s mouth.
The function of awe, though, isn’t as obvious. As discussed in the post on the Measure & Motivate model, emotions—or, really, any sensations or feelings—are systems designed by evolution to measure something in the world or in the body (the heat of a fire, the level of blood sugar) and motivate appropriate action (drawing one’s hand away or eating).
This framework provides a very natural way to begin thinking about any emotion (or feeling) by asking these two key questions: What is the emotion measuring and what is it motivating?
Proposals about the function of awe generally have to do with things like “meaning,” “connectedness,” and “purpose.” Indeed, a recent book by Dacher Keltner, arguably one of the most prominent researchers working on this question—entitled Awe—suggests that awe “shifts our minds from a more reductionistic mode of seeing things in terms of separateness and independence to a view of phenomena as interrelating and dependent."[5] However, as one reviewer of his book, Mark Kelly, noted, this isn’t a plausible evolutionary/functional explanation. As he put it: “The more precise question should have been to ask…what *function* does the feeling of awe serve? … how do people who experience awe have an advantage over people who don’t?” (Original author’s asterisks.)
Exactly. Candidate ideas surrounding “meaning,” “connectedness,” and “purpose” don’t make a lot of sense from a functional perspective, at least not without a lot of bits to be filled in. (Why did our ancestor who experienced awe enjoy greater reproductive success that those who didn’t? Oh, well, he experienced a sense of meaning at just the right time…)
So let’s start from scratch and ask what awe could be measuring. What are the classic things that evoke awe? For me, it’s natural wonders such as the Grand Canyon, the feats of this juggler I once saw who seemed inhumanly talented, and those Boston Robotics videos.
What unifies these three experiences and experiences like them? One way to think about these is that they are all extreme and, being extreme, uncommon. I’ve seen holes before, but never one so huuuuge. I’ve seen some jugglers in my time, but 36 rings in the air at once…? I’ve got a Roomba for my carpet, but those robots can dance!
Put it this way. You go around the world and mostly see stuff that fits with what you’ve seen before. People, things, ideas… Each one might be new to you, but they fit with your overall sense of the world. This person here is a new individual, to me, but they have the expected number of limbs, are person-sized, etc.
But then you come across an instance of a category—philosophers would say Tokens of a Type—that is extreme for that category.
In terms of measurement, things that inspire awe are very far from the typical or average for the category they are in. Awe, according to this view, is measuring how atypical or how far from average something is. The further something is from average or normal, the more awe it evokes.
What, in turn, should such a measurement motivate?
If you see something that you thought didn’t or even couldn’t exist, well, it could be time to update your belief.
Now, you shouldn’t be hasty. The thing about categories – holes in the ground – is that your view of holes in the ground is likely based on a lot of experience with specific holes. Before you saw the Grand Canyon, you probably saw thousands or even millions of individual holes. You had a pretty good idea what sizes they came in. You had a very good sense of, let us say, the hole distribution. So when you see the Grand Canyon, it’s an N of one—a really, really big hole—against a lifetime of experience. As a good Bayesian, you don’t want to be hasty. To ensure that you update your belief properly, it’s probably best to make sure you get it right, gather more information. As will discussed elsewhere by the other Living Fossils, humility, including in what we think that we know, is an essential aspect of wisdom.
Which takes us back to the facial expression and characteristic behavior. When people are in awe, they often freeze, staring, eyes open, raptly, as if they are devoting their full attention to the object of their awe.
It seems that feeling awe motivates paying careful attention to the awe-some thing. And attention, in turn, is useful for learning. Before I saw the Grand Canyon, I used to think holes came in sizes ranging from small to large, but once I saw THAT hole, I updated my view: holes range in size from small to gi-bloody-normous.
Now, it’s important to note that this explanation isn’t perfect. There are some stimuli that for some people, at least, produce awe that are familiar – breathtaking sunsets. That doesn’t fit well with an information-gathering view. This is a bit of a puzzle and I look forward to good explanations for it.
This account also doesn’t really explain the open mouth. I don’t understand this part, so again I’ll just say that I hope someone else comes along and explains it. Now, awe has physiological effects—racing heart and all that—so maybe the open mouth allows has something to do with that? Or, maybe there’s just a limited number of things you can do with your face, so this aspect was just sort of randomly selected to be the awe-face? (Facial expressions have a symbolic element. The thing about symbols is that anything can stand in for the meaning, so the symbol could be anything. Why not an open mouth?)
This analysis of awe is the sort that, in my view, should be done for any emotion or, really, any sensation. The first thing is to identify what causes the sensation and, more specifically, what causes it to greater and lesser degrees. Once a sense of the measurement is in hand, then the question becomes what it motivates.
In this second stage, a key is to nominate a motivation that fits with the way evolution operates. The motive ought to be something that in some way, however indirectly, would have contributed to the inclusive fitness of the person experiencing the motivation. That’s why explanations such as “feeling connected” are at best insufficient and at worst not plausible explanations. The next step would be to explain how feeling connected—in the presence of awe-producing things—led to increased fitness. The learning account I present here requires a bit of additional texture, but learning seems like something that plausibly connects to fitness.
Whatever you think a sensation is motivating, the explanation should be one that is good for the individual, in an evolutionary sense.
This constraint eliminates a lot of bad ideas, straightaway, and is one reason the evolutionary lens is such a useful one.
Citations
Barrett, L. F. (2017). How emotions are made: The secret life of the brain. Pan Macmillan.
Darwin, C. (1872). The expression of the emotions in man and animals. John Murray.
[1] Searches for stock images return similar results.
[2] Darwin, C. (1872). The expression of the emotions in man and animals. John Murray.
[3] Facial expressions might have other functions besides signaling. One example, disgust, is discussed below.
[4] I hedge because there is disagreement about the universality of emotional expressions. See, for example, Barrett (2017).
[5] Another suggestion is that awe “integrates us into the systems of life” and “connects our individual selves with the vast forces of life.”
I didn't realise disgust face has a protruding tongue, but what I think of as standard disgust face implies spitting out a contaminant very strongly (like an involuntary gagging reaction and noise on seeing rotting piece of food would).
As to awe, in my fairly recent reading on the subject, it seemed to me that awe (at least the "positive" awe) could be a variety of the response to beauty, where the emotion motivates an individual to seek repeated experience and pay attention to certain things (favourable habitats in case of "soft beauty", attractive mates for one's kin). Awe (at least positive awe, I think there's also more neutral/fear related version) combines that ("seek those things") with intense curiosity and the "updating cognitive framework" learning you mention. We know that awe promotes connectedness and altruistic behaviours, so it's community building. A person who signals awe is one that potentially brings the community together, AND enhances its learning. Both those things give a boost in status that should directly translate to both improved survival and access to better/more mates. Awe face signals openness to experience, and all the fitness advantages that that trait brings when abundant but not extreme.
That's why permanent awe face (and being overawed generally) would be a disadvantage.
The motivation for claiming you feel awe when looking at a sunset? So other people believe you are the kind of person who feels awe when looking at a sunset i.e. not a self-absorbed person and one that often says 'OMG!'. I must confess that I was always suspicious of the way fans of the New Atheists (I was one), on being told that religious awe was not an option for them, suddenly seemed to spend a suspiciously large amount of time gazing open-mouthed through the Hubble telescope - and telling us about it.
Then there's the problem that very few people encounter the Grand Canyon without ever having seen a picture of it before. Once that image is in your mind it's hard to see the crack itself rather than 'The Grand Canyon', even when you are standing in front of it.
One more thing. Do people really stick their tongues out when they see, say, poo? I think my instinct would be to close my mouth tight shut, along with my eyes, anus and any orifice I could think of.