Steven Pinker and Me
I first came across Pinker about ten years ago. I no longer remember the name of the book he wrote. I just vaguely recall that it was an important book and dealt with cognitive science. It was also the first time I was introduced to the field of study. Then from time to time I saw his name linked with Norm Chomsky as a foil. Today, I read in Newsweek that he just published a thick book called "The Better Angels of Our Nature". One paragraph in the book review stood out because it encapsulated, perhaps too neatly, human nature while explaining Pinker's thesis that contrary to facile impressions, violence in the human world has gone down. I felt compelled to share that paragraph with my fellow Mitchongs (those who have already read the book review, please read no further) in the hopes that it may shed some light on our behavior and others. Understanding leads to tolerance, hopefully.
"Human nature, he says, consists of a constant pull of good and evil. He includes five 'inner demons'-sadism, revenge, dominance, violence in pursuit of a practical benefit, and violence in pursuit of an ideology-that struggle with four 'better angels': self-control, empathy, morality, and reason. Over the years, Pinker says, the forces of civilization have increasingly given the good in us the upper hand." (0ctober 10&17, 2011 double issue, p.72)
I don't know about you, but the paragraph resonates strongly with me. In case you wonder, I have four "inner demons" and three "better angels" listed by Pinker. No wonder my angels are outgunned and I have been miserable and struggling to stay sane and out of jail.
Somebody asked me the other day what qualities I most like about myself and others. I was about to give him the usual suspects like honesty, courage, compassion, and all that shit, but then I took a look at him and saw he was not really, keenly interested in my answer ( his eyes were wandering; he just made small talks disguised as real conversation), so I blurted out with a smirk, a sneer, and a hoary laugh: "mystery and danger." That got him, he said, "come again?" I brusquely got up. "You heard me." was my parting shot. Life is a fucking jungle, full of wild animals. Some animals avoid you or pay you no attention. Others you have to watch out for because they are hiding and ambushing you. You cannot let your guard down while living or walking in a thick jungle, otherwise you just get killed.
Yes, mystery and danger. I am talking rot and rubbish. I ain't no danger to nobody but myself. Last week, I became 62 years of age. Nobody remembered my birthday. Nobody gave a fucking damn. No card. No present. So I went to the neighborhood convenience store and bought myself a six-pack, a jar of unsalted peanuts, a can of sardines, and a bag of rice. I came home, put the rice in the rice-cooker. Thirty minutes later, I plopped down in the sofa in front of a TV and ate my dinner, all alone and feeling mysterious and dangerous.
I used to have a very young girlfriend. She was only good for sex and nothing else, dumb as an ox and completely unlettered. I dumped her after two months. I was tired of talking nonsense to her and hearing nonsense from her. Sex without real communication can make you feel like a real animal. You had better believe it, take it from Grandpa. I now am dating more age-appropriate women. They don't have much in the Department of Looks, but they usually have money and they appreciate whatever attention I give them. Actually, I don't like women that much. I mean I don't enjoy dating. Too expensive and too time-consuming. I'd rather read if I feel lonely.
Shit, a reader of my blog just shot me an emai professing concern and astonishment over what I wrote above and then slyly asked if it was factual. I fired back a reply, "use your imagination, if you have any." Gosh, I am 62 years old, overweight, ugly, impotent, impoverished, impolite, impolitic, and dying. I am a very lonely man. I ain't got no girlfriend, old or young. I was just bragging to boost my ego, to regain my balance. Words are my friends. They are my toy and tool to navigate through this loneliness of mine. Don't feel sorry for me. Without lonelines and a sense of impending death, I cannot write. The othe day I learned the virtue of patience and silence. Keep your cool, old chap. I kept telling myself, be cool, old chap, even if you have the clap. Just be cool, okay? You get to bed now and close your eyes. Have no fear of bad dreams. They are merely the vehicle by which your mind is curing itself.
(to be continued)
Wissai
Monday, October 24, 2011
Friday, October 21, 2011
Who we are
OP-ED COLUMNIST
Who You Are
By DAVID BROOKS
Published: October 21, 2011
Daniel Kahneman spent part of his childhood in Nazi-occupied Paris. Like the other Jews, he had to wear a Star of David on the outside of his clothing. One evening, when he was about 7 years old, he stayed late at a friend’s house, past the 6 p.m. curfew. He turned his sweater inside out to hide the star and tried to sneak home. A German SS trooper approached him on the street, picked him up and gave him a long, emotional hug. The soldier displayed a photo of his own son, spoke passionately about how much he missed him and gave Kahneman some money as a sentimental present. The whole time Kahneman was terrified that the SS trooper might notice the yellow star peeking out from inside his sweater.
Kahneman finally made it home, convinced that people are complicated and bizarre. He went on to become one of the world’s most influential psychologists and to win the Nobel in economic science.
Kahneman doesn’t actually tell that childhood story in his forthcoming book. “Thinking, Fast and Slow” is an intellectual memoir, not a personal one. The book is, nonetheless, sure to be a major intellectual event (look for an excerpt in The Times Magazine this Sunday) because it superbly encapsulates Kahneman’s research, and the vast tide of work that has been sparked by it.
I’d like to use this column not to summarize the book but to describe why I think Kahneman and his research partner, the late Amos Tversky, will be remembered hundreds of years from now, and how their work helped instigate a cultural shift that is already producing astounding results.
Before Kahneman and Tversky, people who thought about social problems and human behavior tended to assume that we are mostly rational agents. They assumed that people have control over the most important parts of their own thinking. They assumed that people are basically sensible utility-maximizers and that when they depart from reason it’s because some passion like fear or love has distorted their judgment.
Kahneman and Tversky conducted experiments. They proved that actual human behavior often deviates from the old models and that the flaws are not just in the passions but in the machinery of cognition. They demonstrated that people rely on unconscious biases and rules of thumb to navigate the world, for good and ill. Many of these biases have become famous: priming, framing, loss-aversion.
Kahneman reports on some delightful recent illustrations from other researchers. Pro golfers putt more accurately from all distances when putting for par than when putting for birdie because they fear the bogie more than they desire the birdie. Israeli parole boards grant parole to about 35 percent of the prisoners they see, except when they hear a case in the hour just after mealtime. In those cases, they grant parole 65 percent of the time. Shoppers will buy many more cans of soup if you put a sign atop the display that reads “Limit 12 per customer.”
Kahneman and Tversky were not given to broad claims. But the work they and others did led to the reappreciation of several old big ideas:
We are dual process thinkers. We have two interrelated systems running in our heads. One is slow, deliberate and arduous (our conscious reasoning). The other is fast, associative, automatic and supple (our unconscious pattern recognition). There is now a complex debate over the relative strengths and weaknesses of these two systems. In popular terms, think of it as the debate between “Moneyball” (look at the data) and “Blink” (go with your intuition).
We are not blank slates. All humans seem to share similar sets of biases. There is such a thing as universal human nature. The trick is to understand the universals and how tightly or loosely they tie us down.
We are players in a game we don’t understand. Most of our own thinking is below awareness. Fifty years ago, people may have assumed we are captains of our own ships, but, in fact, our behavior is often aroused by context in ways we can’t see. Our biases frequently cause us to want the wrong things. Our perceptions and memories are slippery, especially about our own mental states. Our free will is bounded. We have much less control over ourselves than we thought.
This research yielded a different vision of human nature and a different set of debates. The work of Kahneman and Tversky was a crucial pivot point in the way we see ourselves.
They also figured out ways to navigate around our shortcomings. Kahneman champions the idea of “adversarial collaboration” — when studying something, work with people you disagree with. Tversky had a wise maxim: “Let us take what the terrain gives.” Don’t overreach. Understand what your circumstances are offering.
Many people are exploring the inner wilderness. Kahneman and Tversky are like the Lewis and Clark of the mind.
Who You Are
By DAVID BROOKS
Published: October 21, 2011
Daniel Kahneman spent part of his childhood in Nazi-occupied Paris. Like the other Jews, he had to wear a Star of David on the outside of his clothing. One evening, when he was about 7 years old, he stayed late at a friend’s house, past the 6 p.m. curfew. He turned his sweater inside out to hide the star and tried to sneak home. A German SS trooper approached him on the street, picked him up and gave him a long, emotional hug. The soldier displayed a photo of his own son, spoke passionately about how much he missed him and gave Kahneman some money as a sentimental present. The whole time Kahneman was terrified that the SS trooper might notice the yellow star peeking out from inside his sweater.
Kahneman finally made it home, convinced that people are complicated and bizarre. He went on to become one of the world’s most influential psychologists and to win the Nobel in economic science.
Kahneman doesn’t actually tell that childhood story in his forthcoming book. “Thinking, Fast and Slow” is an intellectual memoir, not a personal one. The book is, nonetheless, sure to be a major intellectual event (look for an excerpt in The Times Magazine this Sunday) because it superbly encapsulates Kahneman’s research, and the vast tide of work that has been sparked by it.
I’d like to use this column not to summarize the book but to describe why I think Kahneman and his research partner, the late Amos Tversky, will be remembered hundreds of years from now, and how their work helped instigate a cultural shift that is already producing astounding results.
Before Kahneman and Tversky, people who thought about social problems and human behavior tended to assume that we are mostly rational agents. They assumed that people have control over the most important parts of their own thinking. They assumed that people are basically sensible utility-maximizers and that when they depart from reason it’s because some passion like fear or love has distorted their judgment.
Kahneman and Tversky conducted experiments. They proved that actual human behavior often deviates from the old models and that the flaws are not just in the passions but in the machinery of cognition. They demonstrated that people rely on unconscious biases and rules of thumb to navigate the world, for good and ill. Many of these biases have become famous: priming, framing, loss-aversion.
Kahneman reports on some delightful recent illustrations from other researchers. Pro golfers putt more accurately from all distances when putting for par than when putting for birdie because they fear the bogie more than they desire the birdie. Israeli parole boards grant parole to about 35 percent of the prisoners they see, except when they hear a case in the hour just after mealtime. In those cases, they grant parole 65 percent of the time. Shoppers will buy many more cans of soup if you put a sign atop the display that reads “Limit 12 per customer.”
Kahneman and Tversky were not given to broad claims. But the work they and others did led to the reappreciation of several old big ideas:
We are dual process thinkers. We have two interrelated systems running in our heads. One is slow, deliberate and arduous (our conscious reasoning). The other is fast, associative, automatic and supple (our unconscious pattern recognition). There is now a complex debate over the relative strengths and weaknesses of these two systems. In popular terms, think of it as the debate between “Moneyball” (look at the data) and “Blink” (go with your intuition).
We are not blank slates. All humans seem to share similar sets of biases. There is such a thing as universal human nature. The trick is to understand the universals and how tightly or loosely they tie us down.
We are players in a game we don’t understand. Most of our own thinking is below awareness. Fifty years ago, people may have assumed we are captains of our own ships, but, in fact, our behavior is often aroused by context in ways we can’t see. Our biases frequently cause us to want the wrong things. Our perceptions and memories are slippery, especially about our own mental states. Our free will is bounded. We have much less control over ourselves than we thought.
This research yielded a different vision of human nature and a different set of debates. The work of Kahneman and Tversky was a crucial pivot point in the way we see ourselves.
They also figured out ways to navigate around our shortcomings. Kahneman champions the idea of “adversarial collaboration” — when studying something, work with people you disagree with. Tversky had a wise maxim: “Let us take what the terrain gives.” Don’t overreach. Understand what your circumstances are offering.
Many people are exploring the inner wilderness. Kahneman and Tversky are like the Lewis and Clark of the mind.
Wednesday, October 19, 2011
In the silence and stillness of somnolence
I always have greatest thoughts when being in the bathroom or right before falling asleep. The lyrics of a Spanish language song on the Internet were absolutely beautiful. I was tempted to copy them and then did the translation, but I was tired and lazy. Besides, I was afraid I would be too worked up to fall asleep. Male birds sing to attract potential mates. Dogs and wolves howl. Humans sing and and more ingeniously they enhance their voice by the musical instruments in order to convey the mood. Sounds seem to affect organisms. Here I am. I am writing these words silently, but if you read them correctly, you will discern a certain musicality in them. What I meant to say was that you would understand what I couldn't tell you face to face.
-How's so? You don't strike me as a bashful fellow.
-But I am.
-I don't think so.
- Stop being so fucking sure of your assessments!
-Whoa, you have a temper.
-You're so goddamned right. You're pissing me off, do you that? Here I am, about to open my heart to you so you can get see what's inside, what's been hidden from others. Then you had to ruin everything by acting so knowing, so perceptive about me. What's the fuck you really know about me, huh? We only know each other for one lousy week.
-So, why did you want to tell me about your heart and your soul, huh?
-Fuck you! See you in hell.
- Hey, come back here. I was only kidding. I like you. I really do. A lot.
So, I came back to her and haven't left since.
( to be continued)
-How's so? You don't strike me as a bashful fellow.
-But I am.
-I don't think so.
- Stop being so fucking sure of your assessments!
-Whoa, you have a temper.
-You're so goddamned right. You're pissing me off, do you that? Here I am, about to open my heart to you so you can get see what's inside, what's been hidden from others. Then you had to ruin everything by acting so knowing, so perceptive about me. What's the fuck you really know about me, huh? We only know each other for one lousy week.
-So, why did you want to tell me about your heart and your soul, huh?
-Fuck you! See you in hell.
- Hey, come back here. I was only kidding. I like you. I really do. A lot.
So, I came back to her and haven't left since.
( to be continued)
Monday, October 17, 2011
Hello, Out There
Your grandpa has a new toy. He's staying up in the wee hours to play with it even though he has an appointment early in the morning. The toy is wonderful. He should have purchased it long ago.
Anyway, he chuckled when noticed that after two years on the scene he "attracted" another follower of his blog, which makes it a grand total of two! At the grand old age of 62 and on his birthday no less, he suddenly realized that that love could be visualized by an older couple walking along the beach, while the tide tickled and tackled and tangled their ankles. The couple have never forgotten that love demands a willingness to share and an acceptance of what happens to each other. Love is a brave choice. It is not something for the faint of heart or the immature. Maybe that is why one does not always come to know what love really is until they have reached old age and or matured. Love is a commitment and will never be fully realized until one learns that it is only realized by determination, persistence, and resolve.
Okay, your grandpa didn't actually write all the words of the preceding paragraph. It came from a woman, somebody who was crazy and foolhardy enough to nurture some lingering affection for him. The words sound nice and eloquent and heartfelt, but the delivery and actualization of the sentiments portrayed by the words is an issue. He has painfully realized that love is really a delusion and highly conditional. Another woman self-righteously recently admonished him that he has been stupidly attracted to cunning, calculating, and selfish women. What does she think he is? A fool and a masochist? Nah, he is neither. He is simply too lazy and too kind to say No.
Last night, another realization dawned upon him. The bitches forgot him or stayed away from him because they thought they're better than he was. Fair enough. He did the same thing to those bitches who didn't measure up to his standards. Life is a chasing game. Meanwhile, we get lonely and frustrated and we eventually die. What the fuck! Don't be so uptight. Lighten up. And don't get so hung up with love and sex. Usually they bring you nothing but pain, loss of money, and diseases. Love is a delusion. And sex is boring and dirty and animalistic. Come to think of it, nothing beats artistic creations. They are lasting and they do bring joy and satisfaction. The preceding musings didn't mean your grandpa never had a deep, caring love or went through an intense sex session where the carnal pleasurers overwhelmed his sessions and threatened to cause a heart-attack for overexcitement and stimulation. So, he knew what the pleasures involving the flesh and the pleasant illusions and delusions brought on by the belief that he was loved. But, he also knew, from multiple experiences, the highs from artistic feelings and achievements are incredibly satisfying and ego-validating.
(to be continued)
Anyway, he chuckled when noticed that after two years on the scene he "attracted" another follower of his blog, which makes it a grand total of two! At the grand old age of 62 and on his birthday no less, he suddenly realized that that love could be visualized by an older couple walking along the beach, while the tide tickled and tackled and tangled their ankles. The couple have never forgotten that love demands a willingness to share and an acceptance of what happens to each other. Love is a brave choice. It is not something for the faint of heart or the immature. Maybe that is why one does not always come to know what love really is until they have reached old age and or matured. Love is a commitment and will never be fully realized until one learns that it is only realized by determination, persistence, and resolve.
Okay, your grandpa didn't actually write all the words of the preceding paragraph. It came from a woman, somebody who was crazy and foolhardy enough to nurture some lingering affection for him. The words sound nice and eloquent and heartfelt, but the delivery and actualization of the sentiments portrayed by the words is an issue. He has painfully realized that love is really a delusion and highly conditional. Another woman self-righteously recently admonished him that he has been stupidly attracted to cunning, calculating, and selfish women. What does she think he is? A fool and a masochist? Nah, he is neither. He is simply too lazy and too kind to say No.
Last night, another realization dawned upon him. The bitches forgot him or stayed away from him because they thought they're better than he was. Fair enough. He did the same thing to those bitches who didn't measure up to his standards. Life is a chasing game. Meanwhile, we get lonely and frustrated and we eventually die. What the fuck! Don't be so uptight. Lighten up. And don't get so hung up with love and sex. Usually they bring you nothing but pain, loss of money, and diseases. Love is a delusion. And sex is boring and dirty and animalistic. Come to think of it, nothing beats artistic creations. They are lasting and they do bring joy and satisfaction. The preceding musings didn't mean your grandpa never had a deep, caring love or went through an intense sex session where the carnal pleasurers overwhelmed his sessions and threatened to cause a heart-attack for overexcitement and stimulation. So, he knew what the pleasures involving the flesh and the pleasant illusions and delusions brought on by the belief that he was loved. But, he also knew, from multiple experiences, the highs from artistic feelings and achievements are incredibly satisfying and ego-validating.
(to be continued)
Sunday, October 16, 2011
You were a Farce and maybe a Fart, too
You were a Farce and maybe a Fart, too.
Or maybe it was I, not you.
At any rate, the day came and went
Without a sound, nary a cry
From you. Shame! Shame! On me and my little heart.
I henceforth would let it die and would never give it a jumpstart.
Thanks for a lesson!
Love is a delusion.
Money is real.
I cannot get food without money
Unless I want to steal.
I am too proud to do so
So long, farewell, I've got to go.
Adios, goodbye.
I no longer give a damn if you cry.
You're cheap.
I am discarding you on a heap
Of mistakes and errors and wishes
That all smell like dead fishes.
Roberto Wissai
The day after
(to be continued)
Or maybe it was I, not you.
At any rate, the day came and went
Without a sound, nary a cry
From you. Shame! Shame! On me and my little heart.
I henceforth would let it die and would never give it a jumpstart.
Thanks for a lesson!
Love is a delusion.
Money is real.
I cannot get food without money
Unless I want to steal.
I am too proud to do so
So long, farewell, I've got to go.
Adios, goodbye.
I no longer give a damn if you cry.
You're cheap.
I am discarding you on a heap
Of mistakes and errors and wishes
That all smell like dead fishes.
Roberto Wissai
The day after
(to be continued)
Friday, October 14, 2011
Music and Memories
Music is playing on iPod. I'm listening to it through the earpiece. The high fidelity of sound is bringing back long-repressed memories of a love that shipwrecked a long time. I no longer love her, but the pain is forever palpable when certain songs are played. And they are being played right now. Love was short. Pain is forever.
You called me at three am
You called me at three
In the freaking morning.
I said, "Allo, bueno. Como estas, bonita?"
You said, "Did I wake you up?"
What kind of question is that?
You think I do nothing but stay awake waiting for your call?
But anyway, why do you call?
Haven't heard from you for months and years.
I thought you were dead.
I can't sleep. I am lonely. And I miss you.
Miss me? For real? You were the one that played hard to get!
I know. I was stupid. I heard you had a girlfriend and you looked happy and younger.
You heard it wrong. I am a married man.
Then who is the woman who hovers over you when you play cards?
That's my landlady, my pawnbroker, my bodyguard, my lucky angel.
I don't give a damn who she is.
I was stupid. I could have you, but I was too proud
To let you know I liked you a lot.
Escuchame, bonita. It's three in the morning.
I need to sleep.
Your timing is something else.
Adios. Lo siento mucho.
She is just a friend, like you.
All my friends are women, you know that.
I am nobody.
No power. No fame. No money.
Don't cry.
Love is an illusion.
Roberto Wissai
In the freaking morning.
I said, "Allo, bueno. Como estas, bonita?"
You said, "Did I wake you up?"
What kind of question is that?
You think I do nothing but stay awake waiting for your call?
But anyway, why do you call?
Haven't heard from you for months and years.
I thought you were dead.
I can't sleep. I am lonely. And I miss you.
Miss me? For real? You were the one that played hard to get!
I know. I was stupid. I heard you had a girlfriend and you looked happy and younger.
You heard it wrong. I am a married man.
Then who is the woman who hovers over you when you play cards?
That's my landlady, my pawnbroker, my bodyguard, my lucky angel.
I don't give a damn who she is.
I was stupid. I could have you, but I was too proud
To let you know I liked you a lot.
Escuchame, bonita. It's three in the morning.
I need to sleep.
Your timing is something else.
Adios. Lo siento mucho.
She is just a friend, like you.
All my friends are women, you know that.
I am nobody.
No power. No fame. No money.
Don't cry.
Love is an illusion.
Roberto Wissai
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