Psilocybin revisited

After a 40-year hiatus in scientific research on hallucinogenic drugs, scientists are investigating the effects of psilocybin, a psychoactive compound found in some mushrooms. Of 30 adult volunteers who received psilocybin in a recent study, two-thirds of them described the resulting experience as one of the five most meaningful experiences of their lives. Some of the volunteers reported negative feelings, but many of them found intense spiritual meaning, which in some cases seems to have had long-lasting after-effects. The researchers warn that the negative effects could be harmful outside of a controlled setting (they don’t want everyone to rush out and experiment for themselves), but the value of examining the workings of psilocybin scientifically is such that it’s too bad this has been sidelined for so long. I hope we learn a lot more in the future about how psilocybin acts to create mystical states, and also how those states occur spontaneously. I wonder what it feels like to take it, but on the other hand I have had some pretty powerful spiritual experiences while under the influence of nothing more than a beautiful place, awe-inspiring music, or an exceptionally dark and starry night sky. I wonder what mechanism in my brain is capable of such transcendence, and why certain circumstances can trigger it in some people and why certain chemicals can also trigger it. To me this seems to indicate pretty clearly that spiritual states are something that arises out of our brain chemistry and not from the presence of anything supernatural, which is no surprise. I’m just curious about how it works.

You can read about this in a number of places, but I enjoyed the coverage in the New Scientist.

Déjà  vécu

I’d never heard of déjà vécu before, but according to this article from the New York Times Magazine, it’s an especially intense and/or recurring version of déjà vu. Déjà vu (already seen) is an odd sensation of recognition for a situation that in fact is novel; people generally know that the feeling is inaccurate and that they haven’t really been there before. In déjà vécu (already experienced), people can’t tell that a situation is new; they believe they are reliving a familiar experience. (It got me started wondering about how we do tell the difference between a real memory and déjà vu, or between dreams and reality.) The article talks about memory in general and its relationship to consciousness, summarizes the theories about why déjà vu happens, and discusses what’s different about déjà vécu. I was struck by the description of déjà vu:

Occurring at seemingly random times, lasting from a few seconds to a few minutes, it often comes with a feeling of approaching premonition. Not only does the situation feel familiar, but a vision of the future also seems just beyond the searchlights of your conscious mind.

I hadn’t heard much about that feeling of being just on the verge of seeing the future, but I’ve felt it, and this seemed an uncommonly apt description of it. I have felt that if I could just remember a bit more, I’d know how things will turn out, or what will happen next. It’s an uncanny sensation—one of the stranger aspects of being thinking meat.

Happiness seems to grow as we age

Hardly anyone wants to grow old (although it beats the only available alternative), but the results of a recent survey indicate that, contrary to popular belief, people grow happier as they grow older. Overall the survey participants of all ages expected older people to be less happy, but in fact the older people in the survey rated their happiness at a higher level than the younger people in the survey rated theirs. Curiously, people generally think that they themselves are likely to be happier than the average as they age, but that everyone else will grow more miserable. This press release doesn’t explicitly state whether the older people remembered themselves as happier at 30 than they are at their current age. It would also be interesting to see a follow-up study where the younger people in this survey are asked again decades from now to rate the happiness of their younger selves, and to see how the ratings they gave now compare to what they say when they’re looking back at this time.

Book review: No Two Alike

I just finished reading Judith Rich Harris’s new book No Two Alike: Human Nature and Human Individuality. Harris is an independent scholar whose controversial The Nurture Assumption: Why Children Turn Out the Way They Do, published in 1998, proposed that based on the evidence, it doesn’t appear that parenting styles have much to do with how kids turn out.

No Two Alike follows up on The Nurture Assumption to some degree by investigating the question of what it is that drives the personality differences between individuals. Even identical twins (with their shared genes) who are reared in the same household differ from one another; Harris takes as an extreme case a pair of conjoined twins who were definitely quite distinct personalities.

I enjoyed reading this book; Harris has a conversational and engaging style that nonetheless manages to convey quite a bit of information clearly. This book gave me a better understanding of how evolutionary psychology works (i.e., how a hypothesis can be proven or disproven) better than anything else I’ve read so far. Perhaps this is because she focuses not so much on imagined scenarios of Paleolithic life, but on questions like “If a mental system worked like this, how would we expect people to behave, and how can we test whether they do behave that way (and rule out other explanations)?” I’m really encouraged, by the way, by how much Harris has been able to accomplish as an independent scholar. I liked her story about receiving an award named for the guy at Harvard who had written the letter many years before that rejected her as a Harvard grad student.

Harris uses the metaphor of a mystery story to structure her search for the causes of individual differences. She begins by methodically and thoroughly investigating five red herrings that could explain individual differences but in fact do not. Her analysis includes some eye-opening investigations of work that has seeped into the popular press in a distorted form. I had heard of Stephen Suomi’s research that supposedly showed that high-reactive (anxious, fearful) monkeys can become confident, even high-status individuals if they are raised by a low-reactive (calm) mother, which certainly seems to support the idea that parenting influences personality. However, Harris dug deep to try to find details about this research and found only what she described as the scientific analog of vaporware. She dissects some other work that has gone unquestioned into the media, with similar results.

Then with the stage cleared, Harris begins describing her model for three mental mechanisms that together could cause and perhaps even strengthen differences between people. The relationship mechanism evolved to help us manage our interactions with other individuals. It discriminates between different people and helps us deal with each separate relationship appropriately. The socialization system helps us to learn the customs, language, and attitudes that are considered appropriate for the groups of people to which we belong. This system relies more on averages and generalizations. One thing I noted is Harris’s observation that children are socialized by people outside the immediate family, the ones they will have to spend their adulthood with. I had always thought it a little strange that of myself and my six siblings, none of us is a practicing Catholic or even, as far as I know, attends any church at all regularly, despite the fact that my parents raised us in a devoutly Catholic home. But it makes sense that we would learn to fit into the outside world where we have to live our lives now, which is quite different from the religious milieu in which we grew up.

The status system tells us where we stand in the hierarchies and groupings of the society we live in, so that we can figure out our relative strengths and weaknesses and how we can best compete with others. We learn from how others treat us, and to some degree we use our skills at understanding what others are thinking to gauge their reactions to us and form a mental self-image accordingly, so that we can shape our behavior based on what we learn. (E.g., if people tell me “Don’t quit your day job” when I sing or tell jokes, I’ve learned something about how I measure up in my ability to entertain others.)

I liked Harris’s observation that the socialization system and the status system have different motivations (to be like everyone else and to be better than everyone else respectively). This is one of the central conflicts of being human, and it was interesting to see it in the context of a discussion of how we grow into the people we are.

As Harris explains it, the status system is at the heart of the process that leads to individual differences. Our relationships with others, which feed information into our status systems, are based on who we are as individuals, so even identical twins do not get quite the same feedback from the people with whom they interact. The small differences that allow people to tell the twins apart also enable them to treat the twins differently, and of course the same process works for ordinary siblings, who are easier to tell apart. These differences in feedback from the outside world would cause the status system to devise a slightly different competition strategy for each person. Furthermore, random events can cause a systematic change in how we behave if they affect how people see us; also, even minor differences in status in a group can widen an initially small difference in behavior and personality. Only one person can be the brightest or prettiest or strongest or funniest, for example, so if you can’t quite fill that role in a group, you may seek another role.

The evidence Harris produces to support the existence of these three mechanisms is not only persuasive but fascinating to read. She goes into a lot of details about how children are socialized and some of the submodules that the three systems use, and this gets into some aspects of memory and cognition (e.g., how the brain forms and uses categories). She closes the book with a little speculation about why we need consciousness and the role that individual differences play in the division of labor in human societies, which she describes as an emergent property of human groups. She also suggests some ways her hypothesis might be tested; I suspect she’s right when she says that it will probably wind up being even more complicated and nuanced than the picture she presents here. I hope that people follow up on her suggestions.

Happy memories

To some extent, who we are is who we remember being. (I am crudely paraphrasing someone, I think John Locke.) A couple of researchers at Concordia University recently completed a study of the way important life events define a person’s sense of self, and how the emotions that accompany these events change over time (how people felt at the time of the event compared to how they feel about it when they recollect it later). This article from WebMD describes the study in some detail, and this one from ABC News puts the story in the context of other research. When people look back at something that had great importance for them, their pleasant memories are stronger and their painful memories milder, compared to what they say they felt at the time. One goal of the study was to examine the relationship between self and autobiographical memory. Your memories of important events in your life contribute to your sense of who you are, and perhaps the bias toward remembering the positive emotions and letting the negative emotions fade with time helps us build and maintain a positive image of what our lives are about.

The ABC News story describes work by another researcher who found something similar; people recalled more happy times than they did sad times, and the pleasant memories tended to linger longer than the unpleasant ones. The exception, interestingly, is that depressed people had about equally good recall of both good and bad times. I wonder if this is related to depressive realism (the hypothesis that depressed people tend to make more realistic judgments of their own abilities and strengths).

The average age of participants in the Concordia study was mid-20s; I wonder how old the people were in the other studies that the ABC News article mentions. Older people have had more time for their painful memories to mellow or otherwise shift. Part of what’s going on might be a mental mechanism for keeping a positive attitude toward our lives, but part of it might also be that as time goes by and you gain more knowledge of all the ramifications of an event, you can see benefits that you couldn’t see when it was upon you in all its misery. I don’t remember where this quote came from, but Garrison Keillor once said:

“Some luck lies in not getting what you thought you wanted but getting what you have, which once you have got it you may be smart enough to see is what you would have wanted had you known.”

Some things, of course, you never would have wanted, like the death of someone close to you. But even then you may find that something is more endurable than you thought it might be. C.S. Lewis, writing in A Grief Observed about the death of his wife, said:

“One never meets just Cancer, or War, or Unhappiness (or Happiness). One only meets each hour or moment that comes. All manner of ups and downs. Many bad spots in our best times, many good ones in our worst. One never gets the total impact of what we call “the thing itself”. But we call it wrongly. The thing itself is simply all these ups and downs: the rest is a name or an idea.”

Maybe with the passing of time it’s easier to realize this.

Earliest memories

My earliest memory goes back to when I was three years old and my parents brought my little sister home from the hospital (at least that’s the earliest one I can reliably pin a date on). But if I’d grown up in a different kind of culture, my first memory might well fall earlier or later in my life. This article from the American Psychological Association says that the average age for the earliest memory a person has depends on the value placed on individual experience and memory in that person’s culture. The more a culture values the past (individual or joint) and the sharing of personal memories, the farther back in childhood a person is likely to remember. In America, we value our unique personal histories, and we typically remember back to when we were around 3 1/2 years old. In Maori New Zealand culture, which emphasizes a shared past to a greater degree, people remember back to earlier ages than we do, on average. By contrast, in Asian cultures people tend to have a later first memory. It’s not a function of how good a memory you have; it’s got to do with how much you hear others talking about events and their memories of them, and how people speak of their memories (cultures differ in how much detail is generally given when people are telling their personal stories or discussing events). If you live in a society where people share their personal narratives in greater detail, you need to have your own memories to bring to interactions with others. I’m intrigued by this glimpse into the way the inner world works differently in other cultures.

Book review: On Desire

I recently read On Desire: Why We Want What We Want, by William B. Irvine. The subject is related to happiness, because getting (or not getting) what we want or think we want changes how we feel about life. Roughly the first half to two-thirds of the book is an examination of how desire works, from a psychological and evolutionary point of view. Irvine discusses the role of emotion and intellect in desire and decision-making; he talks about the unconscious origins of many desires, for example. I’m fascinated by the role that unconscious processing plays in our lives, so I was interested in this Bertrand Russell quote:

“…the discovery of our own motives can only be made by the same process by which we discover other people’s, namely, the process of observing our actions and inferring the desire which could prompt them.”

I’m intrigued by the idea that to some extent we don’t really know all that’s going on in our minds and have to watch our own behavior to see what it is we really want. This jibes with the idea that when mental processing occurs outside of conscious awareness, our conscious selves will make up some kind of story to explain the results. (See, for example, Michael Gazzaniga’s interpreter theory.) Russell’s point was that we lie to ourselves about what we want, even going so far as to develop false belief systems to kid ourselves.

Irvine emphasizes that emotion is crucial to desire. The intellect can form desires on its own (I can decide to raise my right arm for no particular reason, for example) but those desires don’t have anything like the power of desires based on feelings. The role of the intellect is mainly to figure out ways to satisfy desires that come from the emotions. (Irvine says that’s not just the role of the intellect in desire; that’s the reason the intellect developed in the first place: not so we can rise above our biological urges, but so we can more effectively fulfill them.) And while we may have a hard time dealing with our emotions and the yearnings that they inspire, these yearnings are what give us direction, define our goals, and give meaning to our lives.

The problem for most of us comes from the way we are apparently wired to want things that won’t actually make us happy (as Irvine puts it, to “miswant”), and from the way we adapt to the good things we have so that they no longer satisfy us as much as they did when we first got them. Irvine talks about the evolutionary history that might be behind this, and also about our biological incentive systems, or BISes, which reward us for doing things that enhance our chances for survival and reproduction, and punish us for doing things detrimental to our chances.

I particularly enjoyed Irvine’s speculations about how the BIS shapes human nature, and whether slight differences in each individual’s BIS are the basis of personality differences. (E.g., extroverts might have BISes that are quicker to provide pleasant feelings when they interact with others and unpleasant feelings when they don’t, whereas introverts gain more pleasure from solitude.) This says something about the limits people will run into in trying to change their preferred behavior.

The human BIS is not perfect; in particular, we can cheat the system (e.g., certain drugs will give us a reward that we didn’t earn) and the rules are out of date (the reward for eating fatty and sweet foods likely made more sense when food was harder to come by). The imperfections make it hard for us to live peacefully with our BISes. Irvine says:

This, in a nutshell, is the human condition: because we have a BIS, we are forced to live under an incentive system that we did not devise, that we cannot escape, and whose incentives not only aren’t calculated to induce us to have happy, meaningful lives but will, if we respond to them, keep us in a state of dissatisfaction.

So in roughly the last half of the book, he discusses a number of different approaches to dealing with desire: religious (focusing mainly on Christianity and Buddhism, as I recall), philosophical (e.g., Stoicism, Epicureanism), and what he calls eccentric (espoused by individuals like Thoreau, for example). He does a decent job of discussing prayer, meditation, and specific thoughts and behaviors that people have used to handle their desires, and he talks about a few desires in particular—how some religious communities deal with sexual desire or greed for property. Overall, though, I was disappointed in this section of the book. Irvine talked mostly about how people deal with a desire once they believe that it is harmful for some reason, and I was hoping for more about how people decide which desires to follow and which to deny. He says at one point that life is about more than just doing whatever your BIS tells you to do, and certainly endless license is no recipe for happiness. (I recently read Tom Wolfe’s latest, I Am Charlotte Simmons, and his descriptions of young people heedlessly following wherever their BISes take them does not make a pretty picture.)

On the other hand, there are evolutionary reasons for our desires, and if they are the thing that gives life meaning, as Irvine says earlier in the book, then what I’m most interested in is the subtle, shifting balance between enjoying the pleasures that are to be found in being human, and protecting our long-term interests by using those pleasures intelligently. I wish there had been more about that in this book, but all in all, I enjoyed it and picked up some interesting new ideas from it. It’s not a self-help book by any means, but it does contain some advice for dealing with desire; the advice is generic enough that putting it into practice takes some thought, so perhaps the biggest contribution to happiness that this book can make is increasing our understanding of how our desires work—as the subtitle says, understanding “why we want what we want.”

The scientific study of happiness

Edge has recently posted an essay by Daniel Gilbert, a researcher whose subject is happiness. Among other things, Gilbert talks about why the study of happiness can be just as quantitiatve as other sciences (e.g., the science of vision) that rely on people’s reports of their experience, and talks about how a qualitative study of happiness might help us to understand our emotional experience. I’m intrigued by the analogies he draws with previous scientific breakthroughs.

Gilbert has just written a book about happiness, the latest of many happiness books that have appeared in the last few years. Yesterday I picked up two books at the library about happiness: a history of the concept by Darrin M. McMahon, and a novel by Lisa Grunwald about a woman who’s trying to write a history of happiness while exploring its meaning in her own life.

Knowing what will make you happy

I’m in the process of buying a house, which is why I’ve been blogging a little less frequently. This week the house was inspected and a major problem found, and yesterday I had to decide how to respond to the seller. It was a difficult decision that I had to make under time pressure with inadequate information; I hated having to make it. My choices boiled down to asking for more money to fix it, and risking losing the deal, or asking less money and risking having to put up a lot more of my own money to fix the problem. I went with the latter, and am, predictably enough, agonizing now about the what-ifs involved (if I had gone the other way it would be a different mental anguish).

So a recent article about Daniel Gilbert’s research on happiness caught my eye because it opened with an example about buying houses. The standard real estate advice is to buy the least desirable house in the best neighborhood, which might be sound financial advice, but not a guide to being happy. Because we make comparisons between what we’ve got and what the others have got, the potential for unhappiness in a lesser house surrounded by nicer ones is great. The article went on to talk about how often we incorrectly predict what will make us happy or unhappy. There was some advice at the end about how to tell whether a decision will really make you happy: look to other people. For example, if you think you’ll be happier if you have a child, look at the parents around you and see if they’re happier. But people overestimate their own uniqueness and so tend to undervalue this method.

Yesterday when I was trying to figure out how much money to ask the sellers for, I took into account how much I thought the repairs might cost, based on the incomplete information I had, how much I could afford to pay myself if I had to, the likelihood of the seller having a backup offer, and the condition of the house otherwise. I tried to be as rational as I could. But there were significant gaps in my information, and I also had to use an emotional calculus: of the most likely outcomes, which is going to make me most unhappy? Am I going to feel worse over losing the house to another buyer, or over having to pay $1000 or so more to get into the house than I thought? According to this article, for most bad things (or good things, for that matter) that happen to us, we adjust afterward and they don’t have a long-term effect on our happiness. So maybe I’ll be OK no matter what happens. But I’m still on pins and needles until I know how it all turns out.

The third culture

This essay from The Edge examines the prospects for the emergence of a third culture in which the natural sciences join the humanities in explaining why we feel and behave the way we do. The “third culture” concept refers to C.P. Snow’s essay The Two Cultures, based on a 1959 lecture, in which he discussed the problems resulting from a lack of communication between humanists and scientists. The Edge essay, by philosopher Gloria Origgi, talks about some of the possible pitfalls of using the natural sciences in explanations of human behavior, and also mentions some work that avoids these pitfalls and perhaps exemplifies what we might hope for from a third culture. Using biology, in particular evolutionary biology, to help figure out human behavior (why we love who we do, why we tend to have certain kinds of social institutions but not others, why we believe in gods) has been a contentious enterprise, but I find it a fascinating one, and I hope we do see more integration of the sciences and the humanities.