Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Monday, February 9, 2009
A Big, But Slow Brain
The human being seems to make decisions in two disparate parts of the brain: the more primitive, sub-cortex region and the more recently-evolved outer cortex. The decisions coming from those two areas are quite different in character. The sub-cortex (the part we share with primordial vertebrates) makes decisions that are both faster and less accurate. The “higher” cortex is slower, but more exact.
A lizard (with its tiny, primordial brain) must often react quickly to danger. Instantaneously it jumps to avoid being eaten. It doesn’t matter exactly where it jumps (no accuracy called for)—it’s simply a case of immediately needing to exit the scene.
Back when we humans were dodging saber-toothed tigers, we also needed to react promptly. No time to think—just vamoose! Didn’t matter where—just outta there. But as we grew more secure and our lives became more complex, the need arose to make our decisions more carefully and precisely. Our longevity became better assured by slowing down, gathering the appropriate information, and becoming more meticulous in our judgments. The cortex grew, and then grew some more, to help us make those better choices. Thus evolution generated our big brain, so we could make those more deliberate, precise decisions. (This is contrary to the Bush administration’s mental throwback to more primitive times, when it made a quick decision to strike back, after 9/11, rather than pause and choose more wisely.)
Do we need two sites in our brain—with dissimilar and sometimes conflicting qualities—for decision making? We still have a few occasions when we need to make knee-jerk judgments. How well do the two locations communicate and cooperate with each other? Do they get into conflict with each other? Which one takes control in borderline cases? These are deeper questions for the experts; for which I won’t hazard an answer.
One fascinating behavior we exhibit, seemingly demonstrating that an inner conflict can occur, is when the sub-cortex (the fast acting one) grabs the initiative in a situation it regards as threatening, and makes the first choice. Before the cortex can get going on its deliberate analysis, the deed is done. Now, that precipitous decision is a blow to the ego, since it wants to believe that it’s in control of things. But while it was carefully pondering the situation, that damnable primitive sub-cortex stole the show. What’s a self-respecting ego to do? It’ll fib. It’ll make up a story about how it was planning to arrive at that decision anyway. In fact, it does very well—in its task of self-deception—of convincing us that it really was in charge. (Sound like Bush on Iraq?)
Clearly, we humans not yet fully evolved. There are more improvements needed in our brain functions. Where will we go next? Will we get these separate parts of our brain cooperating? Will we learn to avoid needlessly manufacturing threats, slow down, and grow an even bigger, wiser brain? Who knows? Tune in, in a million years or so (assuming we’re still around).
A lizard (with its tiny, primordial brain) must often react quickly to danger. Instantaneously it jumps to avoid being eaten. It doesn’t matter exactly where it jumps (no accuracy called for)—it’s simply a case of immediately needing to exit the scene.
Back when we humans were dodging saber-toothed tigers, we also needed to react promptly. No time to think—just vamoose! Didn’t matter where—just outta there. But as we grew more secure and our lives became more complex, the need arose to make our decisions more carefully and precisely. Our longevity became better assured by slowing down, gathering the appropriate information, and becoming more meticulous in our judgments. The cortex grew, and then grew some more, to help us make those better choices. Thus evolution generated our big brain, so we could make those more deliberate, precise decisions. (This is contrary to the Bush administration’s mental throwback to more primitive times, when it made a quick decision to strike back, after 9/11, rather than pause and choose more wisely.)
Do we need two sites in our brain—with dissimilar and sometimes conflicting qualities—for decision making? We still have a few occasions when we need to make knee-jerk judgments. How well do the two locations communicate and cooperate with each other? Do they get into conflict with each other? Which one takes control in borderline cases? These are deeper questions for the experts; for which I won’t hazard an answer.
One fascinating behavior we exhibit, seemingly demonstrating that an inner conflict can occur, is when the sub-cortex (the fast acting one) grabs the initiative in a situation it regards as threatening, and makes the first choice. Before the cortex can get going on its deliberate analysis, the deed is done. Now, that precipitous decision is a blow to the ego, since it wants to believe that it’s in control of things. But while it was carefully pondering the situation, that damnable primitive sub-cortex stole the show. What’s a self-respecting ego to do? It’ll fib. It’ll make up a story about how it was planning to arrive at that decision anyway. In fact, it does very well—in its task of self-deception—of convincing us that it really was in charge. (Sound like Bush on Iraq?)
Clearly, we humans not yet fully evolved. There are more improvements needed in our brain functions. Where will we go next? Will we get these separate parts of our brain cooperating? Will we learn to avoid needlessly manufacturing threats, slow down, and grow an even bigger, wiser brain? Who knows? Tune in, in a million years or so (assuming we’re still around).
Saturday, February 7, 2009
Thursday, February 5, 2009
Cause and Effect
Karma is one of those words that so often gets employed in American culture in ways that the creators of the word never intended. It has Sanskrit origins, and means “deed” or “act.” In a very general sense, karma refers to what’s happening to me today as being caused by the totality of my actions at some previous time or state. It has its roots in Hindu and Buddhist worldviews.
In common American usage the meaning of karma tends to get distorted and misused. It often is given the connotation of being one’s fate or destiny, and gets unnecessarily tied to one’s former lives. According to this interpretation, what’s happening to me today is fate—as if it was predetermined by what I did in a previous incarnation, and now I’m powerless to do anything about it. It’s my lot in life. Accept it, knowing I deserve it, because of something bad I did, countless lifetimes ago.
This interpretation is not only wrong—it can be downright dangerous. It encourages us to be passive and accept the bad stuff (because we’re a bum), or the good stuff (because we’re special). We helplessly swing from bad to good, a puppet of our former doings. This use of karma also allows religious authorities to manipulate their naïve subjects—keeping them subjugated and obeisant.
Karma is best understood as a simple law of nature: the law of cause and effect. The effect of my coming down with a cold is caused by my encountering its virus. If I spit in the face of a macho street dude, I’ll suffer the consequences. Thus, to a large extent, my fate is in my own hands—not in the next lifetime, but now. What I do today heavily influences my tomorrow.
The very first verse of the Dhammapada (the core teachings of Buddhism) begins, “Our life is shaped by our mind; we become what we think.” That’s a basic karmic statement. What I think, say, and do shapes my life; impacts my immediate future. Think, say, or act foolishly and I’ll suffer the consequences. Think, say, or act wisely and lovingly and I’ll reap the benefit (as will those around me).
But of course, my life is not entirely in my hands. I’m not in complete control of my world. Even if I behave myself, sometimes shit happens. (That’s pretty much the story of Job, it seems to me.) But sometimes I also get lucky, even when I’ve acted foolishly. Grace happens. Let me not go overboard at these times and either feel depressed or superior. Let me not attribute these events to the arrival of a comet or think that God has singled me out for punishment, because I’m a bad person. It’s not about me. Comets and God don’t act on my behalf. They’ve got their own business to attend to.
Because karma is a natural law (nothing supernatural here), I know I am able to take charge of my life. I can make healthy choices and have the confidence that the world is not capricious, but is reliable and accountable. Shit happens and grace happens are rare events; the rest is in my hands. Maybe things happening to me at the moment are not all that pleasant (due to what I did yesterday?), but I have the power to bring a happier future—largely based upon how skillfully I respond to these events.
In common American usage the meaning of karma tends to get distorted and misused. It often is given the connotation of being one’s fate or destiny, and gets unnecessarily tied to one’s former lives. According to this interpretation, what’s happening to me today is fate—as if it was predetermined by what I did in a previous incarnation, and now I’m powerless to do anything about it. It’s my lot in life. Accept it, knowing I deserve it, because of something bad I did, countless lifetimes ago.
This interpretation is not only wrong—it can be downright dangerous. It encourages us to be passive and accept the bad stuff (because we’re a bum), or the good stuff (because we’re special). We helplessly swing from bad to good, a puppet of our former doings. This use of karma also allows religious authorities to manipulate their naïve subjects—keeping them subjugated and obeisant.
Karma is best understood as a simple law of nature: the law of cause and effect. The effect of my coming down with a cold is caused by my encountering its virus. If I spit in the face of a macho street dude, I’ll suffer the consequences. Thus, to a large extent, my fate is in my own hands—not in the next lifetime, but now. What I do today heavily influences my tomorrow.
The very first verse of the Dhammapada (the core teachings of Buddhism) begins, “Our life is shaped by our mind; we become what we think.” That’s a basic karmic statement. What I think, say, and do shapes my life; impacts my immediate future. Think, say, or act foolishly and I’ll suffer the consequences. Think, say, or act wisely and lovingly and I’ll reap the benefit (as will those around me).
But of course, my life is not entirely in my hands. I’m not in complete control of my world. Even if I behave myself, sometimes shit happens. (That’s pretty much the story of Job, it seems to me.) But sometimes I also get lucky, even when I’ve acted foolishly. Grace happens. Let me not go overboard at these times and either feel depressed or superior. Let me not attribute these events to the arrival of a comet or think that God has singled me out for punishment, because I’m a bad person. It’s not about me. Comets and God don’t act on my behalf. They’ve got their own business to attend to.
Because karma is a natural law (nothing supernatural here), I know I am able to take charge of my life. I can make healthy choices and have the confidence that the world is not capricious, but is reliable and accountable. Shit happens and grace happens are rare events; the rest is in my hands. Maybe things happening to me at the moment are not all that pleasant (due to what I did yesterday?), but I have the power to bring a happier future—largely based upon how skillfully I respond to these events.
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
Sunday, February 1, 2009
Nascent Wisdom—Part 2
One more example of emergent intelligence in social insects is the honeybee. Although any single bee is pretty simple-minded, the colony is very smart in finding food sources, looking for a new home, or dividing up the colony to follow a new queen. The key to bees’ smartness appears to be how they resolve differences of “opinion.” Bees have an intelligent way of sorting through the conflicting ideas and finding the wisest solution for the hive. They do this by entertaining a diverse set of views (no secretive, smoke-filled, back-room cliques allowed), giving equal voice to all alternatives, and efficiently narrowing down the options.
There’s yet another social animal that has demonstrated its intelligence when gathered in large groups: Homo sapiens. That statement may appear to violate the experience of many of us: people in crowds do pretty stupid things, but wait a minute. Yes, human group-think has often been very dumb and caused incredible harm, but there’s another side to the story. James Surowiecki (an insightful financial columnist for the New Yorker) wrote a book, The Wisdom of Crowds. What he showed is that a human crowd—when they followed a bee-like process—will make choices that are far more intelligent than any one person could make; even the most experienced and brightest expert among them. People can ferret out solutions to tough problems, if they do like the bees: seek diverse opinions (avoid closed-minded in-group mentality, like in the Bush administration did), act in a decentralized manner (no dictators or bosses), and employ a fair and balanced decision-making process.
Maybe what gets in the way of our acting more intelligently is that we humans tend to think too much. Our big brain can get in the way. Rather than instinctively interact democratically with each other, we double-think the process and allow a few individuals to sway us with their oratory, charisma, and power. We hand off our autonomy to the expert or to the big man. We abdicate our responsibility to participate in a democratic process, allowing specialists to take over, or let the bully dominate. We permit somebody else to do the job for us.
So we so-called highly-conscious humans can take some counsel from our “stupid,” simple-minded fellow creatures. Let’s follow their lead: Cooperate with each other and act smart. Our decisions can be unwholesome when we (1) abdicate authority to the experts, (2) we choose hierarchy over equality, (3) we follow ingrown group-think ideology, or (4) when we refuse to cooperate with one another. In fact, that kind of stupidity is fouling our earthly nest, rather than sustaining it.
There’s yet another social animal that has demonstrated its intelligence when gathered in large groups: Homo sapiens. That statement may appear to violate the experience of many of us: people in crowds do pretty stupid things, but wait a minute. Yes, human group-think has often been very dumb and caused incredible harm, but there’s another side to the story. James Surowiecki (an insightful financial columnist for the New Yorker) wrote a book, The Wisdom of Crowds. What he showed is that a human crowd—when they followed a bee-like process—will make choices that are far more intelligent than any one person could make; even the most experienced and brightest expert among them. People can ferret out solutions to tough problems, if they do like the bees: seek diverse opinions (avoid closed-minded in-group mentality, like in the Bush administration did), act in a decentralized manner (no dictators or bosses), and employ a fair and balanced decision-making process.
Maybe what gets in the way of our acting more intelligently is that we humans tend to think too much. Our big brain can get in the way. Rather than instinctively interact democratically with each other, we double-think the process and allow a few individuals to sway us with their oratory, charisma, and power. We hand off our autonomy to the expert or to the big man. We abdicate our responsibility to participate in a democratic process, allowing specialists to take over, or let the bully dominate. We permit somebody else to do the job for us.
So we so-called highly-conscious humans can take some counsel from our “stupid,” simple-minded fellow creatures. Let’s follow their lead: Cooperate with each other and act smart. Our decisions can be unwholesome when we (1) abdicate authority to the experts, (2) we choose hierarchy over equality, (3) we follow ingrown group-think ideology, or (4) when we refuse to cooperate with one another. In fact, that kind of stupidity is fouling our earthly nest, rather than sustaining it.
Saturday, January 31, 2009
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