I recently read a book titled being (no capital) written by a father and daughter (Ross G. Menzies and Rachel E. Menzies), both academics in psychology, albeit at different institutions in Sydney. The subtitle is Why It’s Harder To Be A Human Than A Hamster Or A Herring, which I think is a little misleading, and probably unnecessary.
For me, the title, being, says it all, because it’s a category on my blog. ‘Being’ is literally about being human, with all that entails, including the fact that we are a complex social species who thinks in a complex language, which is akin to software in that it’s hard to imagine thinking without it. That alone differentiates us from all other species, but, having read their book, I really don’t think that’s what it's about.
The book has a strong existential flavour, because it’s really about how to take control of your inner self and therefore your life. And perhaps that would have been a better subtitle, and even shifted more books. But perhaps the authors wanted to differentiate themselves from the plethora of self-help books on the market, and I can understand that, because I don’t think this book fits that genre either. It’s more Oliver Sacks than Oprah Winfrey. In particular, they provide examples of case studies (like Sacks did in his seminal tome, The Man Who Mistook His Wife for a Hat), which are all extreme cases, yet illustrate their points.
I found myself identifying with a lot of what they described, and perhaps others will too. In particular, they explain how we all have an inner voice that can be our biggest critic and can inhibit us. I’m really not sure how widespread this is: I can’t imagine narcissists having a critical inner voice; I imagine their inner voice never stops telling them how exceptional and brilliant they are. Just listen to Donald Trump’s public exhortations of his own genius.
Basically, the authors are saying this inner voice can have pathological consequences, and I know mine never shuts up. They make the point that it was probably fostered in childhood, and I can certainly testify to that. But here’s the thing: I’ve come to see it as a positive, because it helps to keep my ego in check, and I agree with Socrates’ maxim about the unexamined life. It was also a feature of Confucius’ philosophy: that self-examination is a bulwark against our propensity to blame others for our shortcomings. Note that they both lived around 4-500 years before Christ.
The book includes a couple of questionnaires, which the reader is invited to try, and I complied.
One was about one’s search for purpose or meaning. It was only 10 questions but it was cleverly designed to ascertain 2 parameters: how strong is one’s search for meaning; and how strong is one’s sense of having acquired meaning or purpose. They are meant to be complementary in that a high score on one should be reflected by a low score on the other. I scored high on both: 29 out of 35.
They don’t address that anomaly, but my takeaway is that my sense of purpose is probably a lot higher than it was when I was younger; yet I’m still searching, in the belief that there is no final destination. I think this blog encapsulates both of those.
The other one was a measure of regret with only 5 questions, and I scored 9 out of 35, which is roughly what I expected. The questions were about reflecting on outcomes and considering what-ifs.
They reference Carl Rogers and, in particular, his mostly unacknowledged influence on the relationship between psychologists and their clients. In particular, in creating a non-judgemental environment. I remember that Carl Rogers was barely mentioned when I studied psychology, yet I’d read about his ‘client-centred therapy’ external to my studies.
Given their book has an unapologetic existential influence, I was surprised by their views on free will. Basically, they take the very strong scientific position that it’s a fallacy.
Following a chapter titled The Forks in the Road, which is about decision-making as the title suggests, there is a chapter titled The Illusion of Freedom, headlined by a quote from Sam Harris: You can do what you decide to do – but you cannot decide what you will decide to do. And that sums up what they talk about for the next 28 pages.
But let me backtrack momentarily to The Forks in the Road where they discuss something called the ‘Indecisiveness Scale’ devised by Robert Frost and Deanna Shows at Smith College, Northampton, Massachusetts, in the 1990s. To quote the authors:
This simple, fifteen-item scale has been used by researchers around the globe for decades and has revealed just how destructive to wellbeing indecisiveness really is. (My emphasis)
Across investigations, high scores on the Indecisiveness Scale have been linked to high levels of negative emotion, worry, depression and rumination.
One section of this chapter was subtitled, Maximising versus satisficing, and basically, giving examples, the authors explain how satisficing is better than maximising as a life enhancing strategy. Basically, maximising means always seeking and demanding the optimum outcome, and satisficing means making compromises and accepting the best outcome in a given situation.
Possibly, you can see a connection to the notion of free will, given we associate decision-making to the attribute of personal agency. Therefore, the Illusion of Freedom was like a bucket of cold water, in the face of what went before.
Essentially, they argue we are nothing more than ‘biological machines’. They quote from a previous book of theirs (which I haven’t read):
The decisions we believe we’re making ‘freely’ are all in fact determined by a dense thicket of crisscrossing cogs and causes – biographical, physiological, cultural, psychological, neurological and environmental… We are incredibly complex creatures, entwined in incredibly complex situations, which makes our choices often seen baffling and unpredictable, but we are nonetheless, ultimately, biological machines that obey the laws of physics just like everything else. (my emphasis)
That last sentence reminds me of Sabine Hossenfelder, and in fact, they reference her book at one point, Existential Physics (which I have read). But the main problem I have with their thesis is how they reverse the norm when it comes to dealing with failures. They give the example of Italian soccer player, Roberto Baggio, who famously (or infamously) missed a penalty goal in the 1994 FIFA World Cup final against Brazil, held in Pasadena, California. Other than the personal shame and humiliation, it effectively curtailed a brilliant career. The authors argue that the way he should have dealt with it, was to acknowledge that he had no free will.
I find this such a self-defeating attitude. Does that mean that all the brilliant successes he’d had up to that point in his star-studded career were also just a product of being a robotic ‘biological machine’? My point is that if you’re going to take responsibility for your triumphs you also need to take responsibility for your failures. Anything else is a cop-out. It’s why Socrates’ famous aphorism: The unexamined life is not worth living; is so resonant throughout the ages. We only examine our lives when we fail, and Socrates had failed to prevail against the Senate and paid for it with his life.
To provide a counter perspective, I watched a 97m YouTube video provided by Robert Lawrence Kuhn’s Closer to Truth channel, titled, Big Questions in Free Will. It covered a four-year project (so not a one-week seminar as you might expect), with experts in psychology, neuroscience, philosophy and theology. The theology component was separate and is covered at the end, and assumes free will, but discusses the apparent contradiction with having an omnipotent and omniscient God with human free will, which I won’t discuss here. I read a book on that topic by Clifford A Pickover (The Paradox of God And the Science of Omniscience), which I discussed in another post.
Overall, Kuhn’s video is an excellent exposition on the topic, based on interviews with various experts, and it revealed that free will is more nuanced than what many people claim, including myself. Basically, there are a lot of thoughts, impulses and ideas that come into your mind that you don’t have conscious control over. I think the most obvious example is when one dreams. In a dream, there is a sense that we don’t have control over events, even though I believe there is a conscious interaction. But anyone who has done something creative is aware that there is a strong subconscious component – we literally don’t know where it comes from.
Of all the participants (over 20), there were 2 in particular, who came closest to expressing my beliefs: Eddy Nahmias, Professor of Philosophy at Georgia State University, and Peter Tse, Professor of Psychology at Dartmouth College. Both expressed the view that decisions requiring detailed cognitive analysis with potentially life-changing consequences, like getting married or changing careers, were not solely the result of subconscious impulses. My own view, not expressed by any of the participants, is that consciousness can act as a feedback loop and modify a subconscious decision. Peter Tse alluded to this without calling it a loop. Douglas Hofstadter coined the term, ‘strange loop’ to describe this experiential phenomenon.
Peter Tse’s interaction with his colleague, Thalia Wheatley (Associate Professor of Psychology at Dartmouth College) was most interesting and informative, because Thalia held the view that free will is a chimera (my term, not hers), the same as Rachel and Ross Menzies. At one point, Tse mentions the role of imagination, which I’ve argued before is the key to free will – an idea I’ve borrowed from Raymond Tallis (neuroscientist turned philosopher).
I’ve long argued that consciousness without free will makes no evolutionary sense. If consciousness simply makes us aware of decisions already made, then what’s the point? On the other hand, consciousness can access memory and mentally time travel – hence the role of imagination – because that’s what imagination does. The ability to mentally time travel, especially into the future, allows us to consider the far-reaching consequences of events like getting married or changing careers or any other life-changing decision.
Getting back to the Menzies’ position and the subtext of their book, which is really about trying to live a more fulfilling life. I’ve spoken about this before, but I went through a phase in my life where I felt I had no control and I became a fatalist – believing that everything was caused by fate. Not surprisingly, I became very depressed. The fact that I overcame this, I put solely down to free will – the belief that one can change one’s circumstances, by taking control and responsibility for one’s decisions.
The authors don’t mention impostor syndrome, but I suspect I’ve suffered from a version of that my whole life, although I don’t necessarily think that’s a bad thing. I think it gives one perspective and stops one from being full of themselves. Ex New Zealand Prime Minister, Jacinda Ardern, said she suffered from imposter syndrome, but gave the impression that it helped her because it imbues humility in the face of dealing with significant events. It’s not lack of confidence, as she was quick to point out, but it requires self-examination, which requires a feedback loop.