Living Archives - Page 3 of 51

Existential Troublesome Knowledge

January 18, 2024 by Joycelyn Campbell Leave a Comment

There’s troublesome knowledge—and then there’s existential troublesome knowledge.

The concept of troublesome knowledge was developed in academia and has since been applied and utilized in many academic and non-academic areas including scientific exploration, mathematics, politics, finance, history, and even writing.

To refresh, knowledge is troublesome when it:

conflicts with preexisting beliefs, especially if those beliefs are deeply held
is counterintuitive or seems illogical
is complex or difficult to understand
is disconcerting
requires a (transformational) change in self-perception

Troublesome knowledge within a field of inquiry or endeavor is one thing. But troublesome knowledge about the very nature of how we as humans function and our experience in and of the world—i.e., existential troublesome knowledge—is something else altogether. It’s troublesomeness squared, at the very least.

Many of our most basic assumptions about ourselves…are false. —Leonard Mlodinow, Subliminal

Phenomenal Individualism and Its Implications

The pursuit of existential troublesome knowledge leads us to a number of inescapable conclusions that point in the direction of what has been called phenomenal individualism.

Our experience is not an accurate reflection of reality, which means things are not as they seem.
We cannot fully know or access the experience of any other person or creature.
What we don’t know far exceeds what we know, and no matter how much we learn, this will always be the case; yet we operate as if what we see is all there is (WYSIATI).
Not only is everything everywhere in motion all the time, but everything (including each of us) is a process, and everything is an interpretation.
Rather than being, or resembling, a mechanical system, each of us is a complex adaptive system, physically, mentally, and emotionally.
These factors all constrain our experience of being in the world—and there is no way out of these constraints—but they also create a space of possibilities, including the possibility of creating transformational change.

I believe the fact that our experience is not an accurate reflection of reality is the foundational threshold concept that we must get (incorporate into our mental model) in order to grasp the nature of our existence and experience: our space of possibilities.

You may recall that threshold concepts are likely to be, among other things:

Transformative: they lead to a significant shift in perspective that alters our sense of who we are as well as what we see, the way we see it, and how we feel and think about it.
Irreversible: they involve crossing a “threshold,” after which our previous understanding is no longer readily accessible.
Integrated: they reveal relationships and connections of aspects and ideas that were previously seen as unrelated.
Troublesome: they are difficult concepts to grasp and are therefore troublesome (see troublesome knowledge above).

The Space of Possibilities

What you or I make of the characteristics that circumscribe our existence—how we interpret them and work with them—depends on our mental model of the world, which includes our personality and our beliefs.

Do you find the idea that things are not only not as they seem, but never as they seem disturbing, confusing, trivial, or intriguing?

Is the idea that the extent of what we don’t know will always be far greater than the extent of what we know frustrating, obvious, or expansive?

Does knowing that everything you experience is the result of your brain’s interpretation of data that other brains are very likely interpreting differently make you curious or does it feel unnerving or even threatening?

The Thin Slice

It has become clear that our brains sample just a small bit of the surrounding physical world. —David Eagleman, Incognito

Although what Eagleman says is true, and it’s possible to grasp the concept intellectually, it is simply impossible for us to experience. That’s because our brain is continuously assessing and interpreting the data it has access to as if it is all the data there is. How else could it operate?

If we really understand and acknowledge this aspect of reality—that we are always working with limited information we treat as if it is all the information—we must realize that a likely majority of the conclusions and explanations we take for granted are inaccurate, sometimes extremely so. Our brain can’t take into account factors of which it is unaware. Yet there are always factors that affect us of which we and our brain are unaware.

The conclusions and explanations we arrive at daily are often good enough for us to get by—not so erroneous they threaten our survival. But that isn’t always the case. And even if they don’t threaten our survival, they can modify our mental model in ways that lead to maladaptive perceptions of our internal and external world. Taking all of our perceptions for granted can have detrimental effects on our experience and therefore on our actions in and reactions to the world, as well as our wellbeing, and our relationships with others.

We are not significantly different from humans of the past who didn’t believe in the existence of germs or bacteria because they couldn’t see them with the naked eye. Or humans who believed the earth was the center of the solar system. Or that the brain was a useless organ—or that we only use 10% of it. Or that our memories are accurate, and eye-witness accounts are reliable.

When more information was obtained, we modified our understanding of germs and the solar system and the brain and memory and eye-witness accounts. We have enough information now to modify our understanding of how we operate and how our experience is based on our interpretations.

If we don’t, or don’t want to, understand this thing called phenomenal individualism, we will constantly be at the effect of our mistaken beliefs, locked into a perceptual and experiential system within which we have very little room to maneuver and no room at all to create transformational change.

On the other hand, we can step into and take an active role within this space of possibilities.

More to come!

The Scent of Water;
The Smell of Rain

January 11, 2024 by Joycelyn Campbell 2 Comments

Humans are not the only creatures processing numerous streams of sensory data in order to determine what’s out there in the world and what to do about it. Many of the animals and insects we share the planet with are doing the same thing, of course, some with very different capacities from ours: more taste receptors, wider ranges of hearing, and even sensory systems we don’t have. They inhabit the same physical world we do, but their experiences are vastly different from ours because they have different or different-capacity receptors.

What you are able to experience is completely limited by your biology. This differs from the commonsense view that our eyes, ears, and fingers passively receive an objective physical world outside of ourselves. —David Eagleman, Incognito

What You See Is…What You See

When it comes to visual perception, jumping spiders can see a broader spectrum of light, and geckos have vastly superior night vision. The vision of eagles is eight times sharper than human vision, making it possible for them to track prey from a mile away. Cats and dogs see only two colors, but butterflies and rats see ultraviolet and reptiles see infrared light, both of which humans can’t see.

Then there are bats, who in spite of their reputation, are not really blind. They just have very small and very sensitive eyes that operate effectively in extreme darkness. Their vision isn’t as sharp or colorful as human vision because they don’t need that. On the other hand, they have a sense we don’t: echolocation. According to the National Park Service:

[Bats] produce sound waves at frequencies above human hearing, called ultrasound. The sound waves emitted by bats bounce off objects in their environment. Then, the sounds return to the bats’ ears, which are finely tuned to recognize their own unique calls.

Bats use echolocation for hunting, but also for searching and “social calls.” Each species has its own call, and they can change their calls depending on the purpose. You can hear some bat sounds here. Bat calls sound sort of like birds.

The Scent of Water; the Smell of Rain

Most people know that dogs have a stronger sense of smell than humans, but there are claims that the sense of smell of African elephants, who need to drink 70-100 liters of water a day, is even stronger. They have about 2,000 olfactory sensors and five times as many genes for smell and supposedly can detect water sources over 10 miles away. But water is odorless, so what do they actually smell? There hasn’t been much research to date, but results so far suggest elephants might smell the VOCs (volatile organic chemicals) in the water.

As an aside, the smell of rain most of us are familiar with is called petrichor, a term coined by Australian scientists in the 1960s. Petrichor is a combination of water from the rain and ozone, plant oils, and a chemical called geosmin, which results when the first drops of rain interact with airborne bacterial spores. We can detect geosmin at less than 5 parts per trillion, which needless to say is an extremely small amount.

Other creatures that have a superior sense of smell include silvertip grizzly bears, great white sharks, kiwi birds, turkey vultures, and bloodhounds.

Hear, Hear

Moths, bats, elephants, owls, dogs, cats, horses, dolphins, rats, and pigeons all have hearing that exceeds the human capacity of 20 Hz–20 kHz. The greater wax moth can hear frequencies up to 300 kHz, 15 times higher than the highest pitched sounds we can hear.

While a human ear consists of three muscles and the three smallest bones in the body, a cat’s ears are controlled by around three dozen muscles per ear which allows them to rotate their ears 180 degrees. Cats are able to stalk small, fast prey in low light, so they have to be able to hear sounds that are quiet and that have a higher pitch. They can hear sounds almost two octaves higher than humans can detect and an octave higher than dogs. (So should dog whistles really be called cat whistles?)

Our African elephant friends, on the other hand, can hear and communicate via infrasonic sound which is in a lower range (14 Hz to 16 Hz) than humans can detect. The wide-set ears on their large heads funnel in sound waves from the environment

Cookie Monster Kitty

When it comes to taste, pigs and cows have more tastebuds than humans, 15,000 and 25-35,000, respectively, compared to our 10,000. Both pigs and cows are herbivores and the additional tastebuds help them distinguish poisonous from nonpoisonous plants. So all those additional tastebuds definitely aid in their survival. Birds, on the other hand have far fewer tastebuds than humans. Chickens have only around 30.

It’s not just the number of tastebuds that determines how things taste to animals or humans. Cats don’t have tastebuds for sugar because sugar isn’t important for their survival. I did have a cat many years ago who was really into Stella D’oro cookies—the variety pack that you can’t get anymore. The cookies weren’t safe even when they were in a covered container. She once leapt into the air and grabbed one out of my partner’s hand as he was in the process of trying to take a bite of it.

Carnivores, including dogs and cats, have tastebuds at the tips of their tongues that are especially attuned to water. And catfish have their whopping 175,000 tastebuds spread all over their bodies, skin, and fins. They can detect a taste in the water from miles away. They need this ability to help them find food because the murky water where they hunt has such low visibility.

Reach Out and…

While catfish can taste at a distance, manatees can touch at a distance. Instead of tastebuds, a manatee’s body is covered with tactile hairs that allow it to feel objects without coming into contact with them, even if those objects are not nearby.

Seals have such finely tuned whiskers they can track fish that are more than 600 feet away in murky water. The nearly-blind star-nosed mole has a nasal appendage covered in 25,000 sensory receptors (compared to 17,000 in a human hand), as a result of which it is the fastest-foraging mammal in the world.

Sci-Fi Senses

As mentioned previously, some animals have senses humans don’t have, such as echolocation (used by dolphins as well as bats), electroreception (the ability to sense electrical currents or fields, used by aquatic and amphibious animals), or magnetoreception (the ability to perceive the Earth’s magnetic field, used by homing pigeons and pregnant sea turtles).

Our Experience is Not an Accurate Reflection of Reality

Whether an individual has a sensory processing disorder, a sensory enhancement, or better or worse sensing abilities than their fellow humans or other creatures, we all exist in the same physical world that contains the same material processes and properties. We do not, however, experience the world in the same way, which means our experience is not an accurate reflection of reality. We have receptors that provide us with the type and quantity of sensory data that is good enough, that is sufficient to allow us to be us, to experience specific aspects of the world (our umwelt, as biologist Jakob von Uexküll named it) but not others, to maneuver within that world, to mate and continue the species, to survive.

If our sensory capacities were different, our experiences would be different, and we would be different. As a thought experiment, try to imagine what your experience might be and who you might be if, for example:

You had the eyesight of an eagle that can identify objects a mile away
You had only 30 tastebuds
You could detect water a mile away
You had the hearing of a cat
You could feel objects without coming into contact with them

What would be the benefit or drawback of any of these—or other—altered sensory perceptual capacities? Is there a sensory capacity you, as a human, have that you’d be willing to trade or have modified for the sensory capacity of another creature?

I would definitely not want to have only 30 tastebuds or the hearing of a cat. I’m not too keen on being able to feel objects at a distance, either. That seems invasive and disruptive. I could take or leave detecting water a mile away; I wouldn’t be willing to trade anything to have it. The eyesight of an eagle is appealing, though. I imagine it would create expansiveness, the sense of inhabiting a larger world. I’m not sure I’d be willing to trade anything I already have to get it. I’ll have to do some writing and thinking about it.

Coming up soon: more on the umwelt and a shift from physiological processing to psychological processing.

The Path of Least Resistance Is Paved with False Affordances

October 31, 2023 by Joycelyn Campbell Leave a Comment

In considering how desire does or does not come easily to us, I’ve suggested we can categorize our lives as:

Things we have that we dislike
Things we have that we like
Things we don’t have that we want (desire)

Things can be tangible, of course (money, weight), but they are just as likely to be intangible (time, stress).

The category of things we have that we don’t like can really get under our skin. Things in this category make us feel bad. Since we tend to believe that it’s the amount of something we have that’s causing us to feel bad, we seek to address the feeling by getting more or less of whatever the thing is. For example:

More time
Less weight
More productivity
Less procrastination
More money
Less stress
More happiness
Less negative thinking

These and dozens more topics are widely addressed in books and workshops by various experts who offer tools and techniques to help us get the right amount of the thing we want more or less of.

I can’t speak to the soundness of any specific tools or techniques. But I can point out an elephant-sized problem in the room. No matter what we’re trying to get more or less of, what we’re really aiming for is to feel less bad. Feeling less bad might sound like a good or at least harmless objective to aim for, but that is far from the case, for two big reasons.

Psychological Tension

If we’re focused on getting more or less of what we have that we don’t like in order to feel less bad we are operating based on psychological tension. When it comes to relieving psychological tension it almost doesn’t matter what tool or technique we use, we are quite likely to make enough progress to get to the point where we do, in fact, feel less bad.

But given that wanting to feel less bad is what was motivating us, once we get there we no longer feel the push to keep taking the action that got us there. So we eventually end up back where we started with the erroneous impression (explanation) that the tool or technique doesn’t really work or stopped working or isn’t for us. In reality, it worked just fine to get us feeling less bad. At least temporarily.

The Path of Least Resistance

The other problem with aiming to feel less bad is that it sets us up to go for tools and techniques that appeal to us because they seem familiar or easy or understandable: variations of tools or techniques we’ve tried before or that don’t seem like much of a stretch. I call those false affordances because they appear to offer a means or method to create change, but in fact they are highly unlikely to have that effect.

If we want to feel less bad, we are not going to go for something that seems difficult, or tedious, or just “not us,” meaning not the kind of thing we find appealing to do or use because, hey, that will make us feel bad.

Changing the status quo is not easy or comfortable, however. Employing only the tools or techniques we find appealing results in choosing the path of least resistance, i.e. choosing the status quo.

In terms of behavior change, false affordances are the tools, techniques, methods, etc. that don’t challenge us but instead fit relatively seamlessly into what we’re already doing. They give us a false impression of proactively attempting to resolve a perceived problem. Instead of helping us change the status quo, false affordances actively help us maintain it.

A Non-Starter

Wanting to feel less bad is not an indicator of a desire to create positive, intentional, significant, and sustained change to begin with. And feeling less bad is actually fairly easy to achieve, although it is always temporary and rarely satisfying. But even worse, being driven by feeling less bad can decrease our ability to enjoy the things we have that we do like not to mention completely obliterate our ability to identify things we want.

To summarize: feeling less bad has absolutely nothing to do with juicy desired outcomes, aspirations, or creating transformational change. It doesn’t even have anything to do with feeling good. As a motivator, it’s strictly a dead-end path.

Fourth post in a series on affordances. The previous posts can be found here(1), here(2), and here(3).

Stairs to Nowhere:
False, Hidden, and Perceptible Affordances

September 8, 2023 by Joycelyn Campbell Leave a Comment

Stairs are an example of an affordance. They provide “an action possibility available to an agent within an environment.” The action possibility they provide is the ascent or descent of an incline in order to gain access to another floor or level: moving between the sidewalk and a porch, between the first floor and the second floor, between the ground floor and a basement, or in some airports, between the tarmac and a plane.

Stairs to nowhere, however—of which there are more head-scratching examples than you might imagine—suggest an action possibility, but they do not allow access to anything. That makes them a “false” affordance.

As William Graver, who came up with the concept, put it:

A false affordance is an apparent affordance that does not have any real function, meaning that the [agent] perceives nonexistent possibilities for action.

While in many cases you could climb a staircase to nowhere, you would not actually get anywhere by doing so.

In addition to false affordances, Graver also identified what he called “hidden” affordances:

A hidden affordance indicates that there are possibilities for action, but these are not perceived by the [agent].

Graver appears to be talking about alternative uses you are not aware of for objects in the environment. Recently I used pliers to extend my reach so I could lift a chain link over a hook in the ceiling. My first thought was to use a bamboo stick like the ones I stake plants with, but they’re out in the garage. The pliers are in the kitchen. That isn’t really among the tool’s intended uses, but I use pliers for a lot of things so it wasn’t much of a stretch. There may have been other objects I could have used, but any other possibilities for action stayed hidden. If I hadn’t thought of the pliers, that possibility for action would have been hidden, too. Instead, the pliers in this case actually became a “perceptible” affordance.

Perceptible refers to the actions you think an object affords, whether or not those actions were intended and whether or not they are, in fact, available. In A Tale of Two Kitties, I described my cats’ apparent perception that bookcases afford an opportunity for climbing, while my perception is that they are a place to store books, which is what I use them for. (A sturdy staircase to nowhere could afford you the possibility for cardiovascular exercise if you were so inclined and perceived it as such.)

Affordances can—and have been—more extensively categorized. “Real” affordances are another distinction that is sometimes made. But given that affordances are relationships rather than properties of objects in the environment, the categories of false, hidden, and perceptible are sufficient for our discussion.

Creating Transformational Change

If you want to create significant, sustained change—which requires ongoing and repetitive action—you will have a greater chance of success if you find effective affordances to assist you.

As I said in the last post on affordances, everything everywhere is in motion all the time, everything is a process, and everything is an interpretation. You are a process that’s already in progress, on a trajectory with a great deal of momentum behind it. The only way to create change is by modifying your trajectory. And the only way to modify your trajectory is by modifying your mental model, which consists primarily of your beliefs and your operating system. How do you make those modifications? Essentially, how do you change your brain? You change it via the ongoing and repetitive actions you take. That’s neuroplasticity in a nutshell.

The impetus for change is your dissatisfaction with the status quo: an outcome you’re getting that is not the outcome you want. Your desire for change is to a very great extent determined by the level or extent of your dissatisfaction with the outcome in question. Low or moderate dissatisfaction will not motivate you to make significant, sustained change.

What is the most likely source of the outcome you’re getting that you don’t want (or an outcome you want that you’re not getting)?

If you’re like most people, you probably fail to identify the source correctly, which then leads you to look for solutions in all the wrong places. You may believe that if you are not getting the outcomes you want, something is wrong or broken. So you attempt to figure out what is wrong and fix that.

But Nothing Is Wrong

That’s right: nothing is wrong. The source of most problems you’re attempting to solve can be found in your operating system, which is to say that your operating system is working just fine to get you precisely the outcomes you’re getting.

If you want to get a different outcome, you need to determine and undertake a course of action that differs from the autopilot actions you have been taking.

You will most likely gravitate toward actions (solutions) that appeal to your operating system/mental model, but that will only serve to maintain the status quo. It’s a variation on the theme of doing the same thing over and over again expecting a different result. You may experience some temporary relief of psychological tension just because you’re doing something, but that will almost invariably be followed by a return to the previous behavior once the tension is relieved.

Whatever action you do identify to change your current trajectory and get a different outcome, it won’t be as appealing as the actions you normally take. In fact, it will probably feel contrived, which is why I call such actions—or sets of actions—contrivances.

Contrivances fall into the category of hidden affordances. They afford you the opportunity to modify your mental model and your trajectory and get the outcomes you want. But before they can do that for you, you have to perceive them as such—like I did with the pliers—so they become perceptible.

Third post in a series on affordances. Still to come: the allure of false affordances and our resistance to contrivances.

Butterfly Nets, Smartphones, and Coffee Shops

August 8, 2023 by Joycelyn Campbell Leave a Comment

In A Tale of Two Kitties (my last post), I shared my current working definition of affordance: “an action possibility available to an agent within an environment.”

This doesn’t deviate radically from other definitions, but it does explicitly identify the three most salient aspects of the concept as it pertains to creating sustained change. An affordance offers or suggest a possible action that an agent—you or I—might take within an environment.

Affordances are like obstacles in that it is an agent with a goal or a desired outcome, preferably both, who interprets something in the environment as either an affordance or an obstacle. A boulder in the middle of a road is just a boulder in the middle of a road. It isn’t an obstacle unless there’s something you really, really want on the other side of it.

Similarly, a fitness center located across the street from where you live is simply one of several businesses in the area unless you have a strong desire to increase your own fitness or level of vitality, in which case you identify it as an affordance. (If it’s occupying the space where you want to establish a hair salon, well then it’s an obstacle.)

Many people find affordances difficult to understand because they are relationships, not properties. —Don Norman, researcher, professor, author

Affordances, like obstacles, are interpreted as such by your brain and brought to your attention based on their salience (importance) to you. If you get hungry while on a long drive, food becomes salient, and restaurants you might otherwise ignore become affordances. After you’ve eaten and are no longer hungry, food becomes less salient, and restaurants—if you even notice them—are once more just restaurants. But salience isn’t only based on your immediate internal state or external conditions/circumstances.

It’s (Always) All about the Action

The nature of reality is that everything everywhere is in motion all the time, everything is a process, and everything is an interpretation. The brain continuously interprets both internal and external sensory data in order to determine what action to take next. It bases its interpretations on our mental model of the world, which it has built up over our lifetime largely as a result of our actions—especially the actions we repeat.

Let’s say you regularly frequent a chain of coffee shops, such as Starbucks. Maybe you’re particularly fond of iced vanilla lattes. And maybe the coffee shops are also places where you get together with friends or groups. (When I was in various writers’ groups, we tended to hold our meetings in either bookstores or coffee shops.) Repeatedly spending time in Starbucks increases its salience. It’s an affordance that offers you the possible actions of getting the coffee you enjoy or meeting and connecting with other people.

So you are much more likely to notice a Starbucks—and by “you,” I mean your brain—and its potential affordances than someone for whom Starbucks doesn’t have the same importance. Your brain has paid attention to your repeated past actions, and as a result, it focuses your attention on current or future possibilities for action in your environment by identifying affordances.

I like to use the image of an infinity loop to distinguish between “you” (the agent) and “not you” (your environment) to illustrate the dynamic and ongoing engagement between you and your environment.

Each of us is engaged in this continuous interaction; it’s anything but static. But our tendency to perceive the world as being far more fixed than it is prevents us from being attuned to the dynamic nature of our relationship with the world and can easily blind us to the possibilities—both positive and negative—within it.

Everything Is an Interpretation

The affordances described here and in my previous post are generally positive. But in and of themselves, affordances are neither positive nor negative. Given that they describe relationships, they can not only be interpreted differently by different people, they can also be interpreted differently by the same person at different times or in different circumstances. While a smartphone, for example, offers access (to others, to information, to assistance, etc.), it can also offer unlimited distractions that may provide immediate gratification but divert you from more substantive or satisfying activities.

But maybe, in the moment, a distraction is what you want (say, cat videos or a game) while you’re waiting to board your plane or for a friend to show up. Or maybe you need to get your car towed. Or you want to find out if the yarn store has the specialty yarn you need to complete an important knitting project. A smartphone can help you get what you really want (a desired outcome) or it can get in the way of you getting what you want. That knitting project won’t complete itself while you’re playing Wordle.

A purse left unattended in a shopping cart suggests an action to a thief—or a would-be thief—that it hopefully doesn’t suggest to you or me.

It Was Never Just about the Butterflies

Lewis Hyde, author of Trickster Makes This World, among many other books, wrote an opinion piece for the New York Times that was published last month. He says:

[O]ne thing I have not yet discarded is the butterfly net. I carry it in part to catch and release the few things I can’t identify on the wing but mostly because of the way it changes the way I walk.…I don’t know if the same is true for birders with their binoculars…but for me, walking with the butterfly net alters my perceptions. It produces a state of mind, a kind of undifferentiated awareness otherwise difficult to attain. It is a puzzle to me why this is the case, why, that is, I can’t simply learn from walking with the net and then put it away and transfer what I know to walking without it.

Perhaps it has to do with the way the net declares my intention, which is to apprehend what is in front of me. Walking with the net is like reading with a pencil in hand. The pencil means you want to catch the sense of what you are reading. You intend to underline, put check marks and exclamation points in the margin and make the book your own. You may think you can read with the same quality of attention while lying in bed at night without a pencil, but you can’t. The mind notices your posture and models itself accordingly.

The butterfly net, when used intentionally to generate a specific state of awareness—and likewise the binoculars around one’s neck or the pencil (in my case, pen, highlighter, and Post-It® flags)—are what I call contrivances. Contrivances are affordances—generally positive in nature. Next time I’ll describe the three different types of affordances and where contrivances fit into that scheme.