What To Do With Emotions - Part IV

Will any of this help?

This is the fourth post in the series on What to do with emotions.

In the first article of this series, we suggested that the reason emotions are difficult to manage is, in large part, due to the fact that they evolved in and for a different world. Our next two articles described examples of this evolutionary mismatch. Here, we discuss what a modern person is to do. Is there any hope, as so many philosophers, religious leaders, and quacks have promised, of gracefully managing our emotional lives?

While writing this series, Josh and Rob have had different opinions about how helpful these ideas would be. Josh thought they wouldn’t be very helpful at all. Sure, the decision-tree, for example, is a fun intellectual exercise. But in six months, how many readers are still going to be implementing it? Zero. Rob’s opinion, in contrast, was that these ideas would and should help. With somewhat breathless optimism, he thought that as long as readers understood what we are saying, and found creative ways to implement changes, they might step forth into a life of better emotional management.

Let’s dive into these opinions.

Reasons for Thinking This Series Won’t Change Anything (Josh)

Why do I think the average reader is likely to stroke their chin, mutter “interesting” under their breath, and then change nothing about how they emotionally interact with the world? First and foremost, because the inference system we are appealing to with our arguments and logic—the neocortex—is newer, slower, and arguably less powerful than the emotional center—the limbic system—that we are trying to corral.

Many scholars have written about the implications of a hierarchy between brain regions or functions. For example, Kahneman in Thinking, Fast and Slow divided the mind into System 1 and System 2. System 1 is for quick (emotional) judgments and decisions; System 2 is for more complex matters and choices requiring self-control. Haidt has a related approach, symbolized by an elephant—like System 1—and its rider—like System 2. As Haidt (2006) writes:

It's hard for the controlled system [rider] to beat the automatic system [elephant] by willpower alone…like a tired muscle, the [rider] soon wears down and caves in, but the [elephant] runs automatically, effortlessly, and endlessly (18). 

Doesn’t seem so bad, does it?

We at Living Fossils prefer a less dichotomous view of the mind. We see it as consisting of a large number of systems, each with their own properties.¹ Still, it’s true that some systems operate fast and they tend to be “emotional” systems.² Their operation can be aborted, of course—we don’t have to follow what our emotions are telling us³ to do—but it’s a bit of an uphill battle because of the priority (at the very least in terms of speed) they’ve been accorded by natural selection.

Related to Haidt’s idea of judgment first, reason second, Hugo Mercier suggests that our ability to reason logically isn’t, in fact, for logic, but for convincing other people about our positions or actions.⁴ The number of times I’ve debated with an imaginary audience in my head as I walk to and from my office makes me think Mercier has a point. But this view, if correct, would make the value of appealing to reason and logic, which we have done in this series, less likely to be effective.

A third reason none of this will change anyone’s life is that emotional situations are far more complex than the ones we’ve mentioned here. None of my clients have ever spoken about road rage. Instead, a client might be deciding whether to stay with a partner who’s cheated, or persist with a job that provides them with meaningful work but little pay. If, that is, they are lucky enough to be dealing with one main problem. Most clients, frankly, have a hot steaming mess of multiple interconnected problems. The more complicated the emotional picture, the more difficult it will be to apply the simple model we have presented.

I suppose it is only fitting that even after laying out my arguments, I still do not feel as if I have articulated the full extent of my impression that this series won’t make a meaningful difference for the reader. This impression is undoubtedly based on my experience as a therapist, during which I have become convinced that the kind of insight we have provided here, namely the intellectual kind, doesn’t accomplish much. I can’t tell you the number of times a client has begun to feel better and attributes the change to some insight or strategy that we never discussed. Or how many clients begin therapy by saying they need strategies or techniques—that they aren’t here “just to talk”—and then begin feeling better despite just talking.

The personal connection that clients establish with their therapist is what heals, what allows for change, far more than any strategies the client and therapist manage to come up with. Yet this personal connection is often mistaken for a strategy, technique, or insight. People will routinely say things like: “I came to realize,” “I finally understood,” or “My therapist helped me see.” Eh, probably not. What probably happened is that the therapist found the right feeling. In the case of road rage, for example, if the leftover feeling is disrespect, then what better salve to talk it out with someone who—by listening, understanding, and trying to help—shows you the ultimate form of respect?

On the “surface,” of course, a therapist and client might be talking about what to do differently next time. But “underneath,” an emotional connection is occurring that puts the client in a different frame of mind, one that gives them a much better chance of responding differently to old dynamics when they leave the office. Therapists use terms like manifest and latent, or content and process, to distinguish between these two levels of conversation.

By the way, even though writing itself is an example of evolutionary mismatch—and therefore, all else being equal, not as powerful as more ancient modes of interaction like touch and face-to-face communication—it still has the power to move our elephant, so to speak. Writing can and does change people’s thoughts, emotions, and actions all the time. But certain literary techniques are more persuasive than others. Telling stories, for example, is more powerful on average than presenting a decision-tree. Using metaphor is potentially more persuasive than speaking literally (or scientifically).

I suppose that is a final reason why I don’t think this series has much of a chance—it’s not sexy. But hey, that’s science.

In the first article, we asked readers to imagine whether the outcome of a behavior would result in a place they wanted to be six months down the road. If we hold this series of articles to the same standard—in other words, in six months, how many readers will have changed their emotional management strategy based on our words—my guess is that the answer is zero. It’s not impossible, of course. It’s just highly unlikely.

Reasons for Thinking This Series WILL Change Something (Rob)

Let me (RK) play Cleanthes to Josh’s Philo.

When I did a post-doc in Southern California, I spent considerable time with Rob Boyd, one of the best, I would argue, living anthropologists. When Rob talked about why humans were so successful—we occupy “the whole habitable earth and Canada”⁵—he pointed that the one, singular human trick was that we learn from one another.

Rob traced the wonders of human invention and creativity to this trick. The perfect kayak—to take his favorite example—did not spring fully formed from Adam’s rib. It began as a crappy kayak, improved over time by people who learned how to make a crappy kayak and then improved on the design, passing this knowledge on to the next kayak-maker until there were kayaks that were superlatively well-designed, with speed, maneuverability, and plenty of storage.

One simple trick to catch whales!

If there is one thing humans are good at, particularly when compared to other species, it’s social learning. You have information. It’s in your head. Then you do something, maybe a demonstration or some jibber-jabber and, boom, now that information is in my head, ready to move to yet another head if the circumstances are opportune.

To the extent that there is something to be learned from the great wisdom of minds past about how to deal with emotions, surely this great human trick is just the thing.

So that’s reason one.

For the next point, I have to be a bit of a boor and drop a name. I wouldn’t, normally, but Josh makes good arguments and I want to recruit some cachet to bolster mine.

I was very lucky to be at a dinner honoring Vernon Smith just after he won the Nobel Prize.⁶ Between the main course and dessert, a friend of mine at the table asked Vernon if there were one single lesson that he drew from his research. Vernon thought about it for a moment and then, with his charming southern twang, said, “Welp, if I had to pick one thing, I’d say the big lesson is that people respond to incentives.”⁷

So. From anthropology, the One Big Lesson is that humans learn from other humans.

From economics, the One Big Lesson is that humans respond to incentives.

Now, combining those two, consider that Josh, in this series, has suggested that there are ways that you can be happier. That you can, as well call it, get better at choosing the utility-good option.

Surely that is a huge incentive.

So, given this incentive, why should we doubt that readers will make use of the One Simple Trick to increase their subjective expected utility? Isn’t it reasonable to predict that people will socially learn?

There’s another reason we ought to be optimistic. While in many ways life is faster now than in the past—historically, for most people at most times, there wasn’t anything like the pace of technological change we are living through—by the same token, in many ways, life is slower. Most of us don’t hunt our food, putting our wits and dexterity against prey. Most of us don’t face combat. Generally, most of us don’t have to make the split-second life-changing decisions our ancestors did. We have a beat to decide if we’ll go for the lager or the IPA. We have time to decide if we’ll hit the gas and go after that no-good, cutter-offer. We have the luxury of time for the vast majority of our life decisions. The rider, system 2, slow modules, or whatever you want to call them, have the time to exert their influence.

And, finally, the fact is that we have a ton of evidence that people can change. Every Lifetime movie—based on actual events!—provides evidence, but more generally we all have experiences with people who have made important changes to their lives. People acquire wisdom and apply it. As Shani points out, adults are wiser than children, who indulge their quicker responses to the world around them. We have all put this advice to effect, at least to some extent. In some ways, much of what we suggest about What To Do With Emotions is about maturity.

It's not a perfect way to divide up the world, but one way to think about the things that humans do is in terms of, on the one hand, natural competences—identifying faces, detecting cheaters, learning language—and, on the other hand, the sorts of things that, à la Rob Boyd, we have to learn with our more domain-general mechanisms—reading, playing the guitar, calculus. These natural competences we get sort of for free. It doesn’t feel “hard” to learn one’s native tongue in the way that it feels “hard” to solve differential equations. So, sure, we have to be willing to endure a little discomfort as we make the effort.

But the other piece is that we have to practice.

So, how will we do six months on from identifying a new skill that we want to put to good effect?

It depends how much we practice.

References

Haidt, J. (2006). The happiness hypothesis: Finding modern truth in ancient wisdom. Basic books.

1. See, for example, this paper by Barrett & Kurzban.

2. See, for example, this paper by Tooby & Cosmides.

3. We follow the usual conventions in talking about “us,” our “selves.” At the same time, at least one of us is skeptical of the whole notion of a self in there somewhere.

4. Mercier, H., & Sperber, D. (2011). Why do humans reason? Arguments for an argumentative theory. Behavioral and brain sciences, 34(2), 57-74.

5. Pinker uses this quote in How the Mind Works, citing Ambrose Bierce’s Devil’s Dictionary.

6. The Bank of Sweden Prize in Economic Sciences in Memory of Alfred Nobel, for purists. Vernon won the prize along with Danny Kahneman, in 2002, who Josh mentions above, but few outside of economics have even heard of the co-winner.

7. Back in those days, I was 1) absurdly over-confident and 2) working on public goods. Because I found, like others, in terms of (2), that people voluntarily contributed to public goods in the laboratory—against their financial incentive—I challenged him, fresh off his Nobel Prize, on this point. Yes, I have regrets.