Daniel Kahneman Archives - Farther to Go!

12 Years After

April 25, 2024 by Joycelyn Campbell Leave a Comment

Twelve years ago this month, I headed off on the path I came to call Farther to Go! I was on a path of sorts at the time—well, on a sidewalk, anyway, heading west on Academy, into what I tend to refer to as the (expletive deleted) New Mexico wind—when I experienced a profound moment of ferocious dissatisfaction. It’s true that the wind had something to do with it, but the wind was also emblematic of my then current state of affairs and my feeling about it.

I wasn’t entirely sure where the new path would lead, I had no idea what I would find out along the way or who I would encounter, and there was certainly no inkling of Farther to Go! on the horizon.

During the past 12 years, I’ve read an insane amount of information about the brain and behavior. Many, but not all, of the books are identified on the Reading List page on my website. That list doesn’t include all the articles and other materials I’ve accessed. All my bookshelves and file drawers are maxed out. There’s been a lot of input into the system (me, that is; into my system).

In addition to applying what I learned to my own life, I’ve written hundreds of blog posts, articles, and newsletters, produced countless handouts and exercises, and created workshop and course materials galore. The 36 3-ring binders lined up on the desk behind me can attest to my output.

I was armed with a small amount of knowledge about the brain and behavior when I managed to look up at exactly the right moment to take advantage of the explosion of research in this arena. It was serendipitous to a great extent.

What kind of surprises me now is how well what I’ve learned has held up. Over the course of these 12 years, I have significantly revised my perception of only the four key elements outlined below.

Dopamine

Dopamine was long considered to be the pleasure neurochemical. A “hit” of dopamine was thought to be like a hit of a drug such as cocaine or heroin (more metaphorically than factually). This was still the prevailing view when I first learned about the brain’s reward system. Many people haven’t yet let go of this mistaken idea, which has led to some really silly concepts like dopamine detoxing.

Fortunately, I encountered the work of Kent Berridge early in my exploration and research. He’s an expert on dopamine and rewards and his work set me straight and helped me understand how essential rewards are in regard to behavior, whether we’re aware of them or not.

Dopamine is the wanting neurochemical. It’s associated with anticipation or craving or desire. When we attain what we anticipate, crave, or desire, other neurochemicals referred to as liking neurochemicals are released. Liking neurochemicals such as serotonin, oxytocin, and endorphin generate feelings of pleasure.

Dopamine motivates us to move (physically as well as psychologically), to pursue what we want, to take action. This wanting system is considered to be robust, while the liking system is considered fragile. Our experience of pleasure waxes and wanes, but wanting is always with us. This isn’t a personal problem or a design flaw; wanting is absolutely essential for both surviving and thriving.

Rewards

In The Power of Habit, Charles Duhigg described what he calls the habit loop, which consists of a cue, a behavior, and a reward. This was a bit of a revolutionary idea because we tend to think of a habit strictly in terms of behavior. Duhigg’s research led him to see that all three parts of the habit loop had to be in place in order for the brain to initiate, run, and end the habit.

That means that if we want to create a new habit, we need to determine what the cue will be, what the behavior will be, and how we will reward ourselves. I think this is accurate.

But Duhigg says that if we want to change a habit, we have to identify the reward we’re getting from the current behavior and substitute a new behavior that will give us the same reward. He makes a compelling case in his book. The problem, though, is that as far as the brain is concerned, liking neurochemicals are the reward, while to us a reward is something tangible or meaningful or perhaps symbolic.

Trying to identify a reward we’re getting for an existing behavior is like trying to figure out why we have a tendency to react the way we do to rain or a particular type of music or stray dogs or umbrella thorn trees. We can’t possibly figure that out with any degree of certainty—and even if we could, it wouldn’t make any difference.

In the case of changing a habit, what’s important is to be consistent about providing a reward for the new behavior until the brain takes over the job of releasing liking neurochemicals without the added stimulus.

Berridge is helpful here, too. He points out that our conscious perception of the reward we’re getting is essentially a story that may or may not have anything to do with what’s going on in the brain. The purpose of a reward is to get the brain to pay attention to a desirable behavior we just engaged in to increase the likelihood we will do it again. It’s positive reinforcement, plain and simple. It doesn’t matter if the reward we supply is related in any way to the behavior. It just has to be something we like so the brain will release liking neurochemicals. (I’ve done two consecutive 30-Day Challenges based on the same behavior, each with a different reward. Neither reward has anything to do with the behavior; both rewards have been extremely motivating.)

System 2

Although he didn’t come up with the terms—and dual-process theory was not a new idea—Daniel Kahneman did popularize the concepts of “System 1” and “System 2” in his best-seller, Thinking, Fast and Slow.

According to dual process theory, the unconscious part of the brain, System 1, is “fast,” meaning it processes 11 million bits of information at a time, while consciousness, System 2, is “slow” by contrast, as it can only process 40 bits of information at a time. There are many other significant differences between conscious and unconscious processing.

Kahneman, who died recently, won a Nobel Prize. He was considered a genius. I think that’s why it didn’t initially occur to me to question this binary division of thinking processes. But doubts started creeping in quite a few years ago. The characteristics attributed to System 2 thinking simply cannot be applied across the board to conscious thought. (There are even some researchers who question whether or not there is such a thing as “conscious thought.”)

After grappling with the problem for a while, I concluded that System 2 is a part of consciousness—a very, very small part of it, one that we access quite infrequently, possibly never. If we use Freud’s iceberg to represent consciousness and the unconscious, with consciousness being the tip of the iceberg, then System 2 is the tip of the tip. I’ve come to refer to the rest of conscious thought as ordinary consciousness. It has some attributes in common with System 1 and some attributes in common with System 2. Most of the time the stream of consciousness just flows through our minds, carrying us along with it.

Ordinary consciousness can be extremely useful and it has a role in creating transformational change, but accessing System 2 is essential for it. If we believe we’re accessing System 2 thinking just by being awake, we’re missing the boat entirely.

Autopilot

It seems hard to believe that the scientific estimate for how much of our behavior is outside conscious control was once a mere 40%—and that 40% was hard for a lot of people to swallow. Neuroscience has now concluded, logically, that 100% of our behavior is generated by our unconscious.

“Autopilot” is the short-hand term for this. It’s somewhat of a misnomer, though, because it was intended to contrast with the supposedly conscious “pilot” that makes intentional rather than automatic choices. But consciousness can’t and doesn’t make moment-to-moment choices.

Accessing System 2 can provide us with some ability to steer our personal ship in terms of determining direction and affecting future outcomes. But it can’t affect the choices we’re making now or the outcomes we’re getting as a result.

Duhigg’s conception of what happens at the end of a habit loop is that the brain is returned to conscious control. This is a perspective from the point of view of ordinary consciousness. It implies, first, that the brain is normally under conscious control, which it isn’t. Second, it fails to take into consideration that the unconscious is attending to multiple things at the same time, which means it is generating multiple action sequences, not just one. So the idea that the brain is “on autopilot” for the duration of a habit and then returned to the control of the pilot is both inaccurate and simplistic.

Habits are a bit different than the rest of our so-called autopilot behavior, but the fact remains that all of our behavior is initiated by the unconscious. If that weren’t the case, we wouldn’t survive long enough to get to the point of contemplating thriving.

Provisional Assessments

There are bound to be other conclusions that will be overturned by the ongoing research into how the brain works. So it’s useful to consider the conclusions we’ve arrived at thus far as provisional assessments. Provisional assessments are essential because they give us something to work with and to test, and they indicate new directions for further examination.

I’m excited to keep learning in this area. I don’t think there is any other exploration as challenging and potentially rewarding as this: humans investigating our own internal operational systems from the perspectives of our internal operational systems. Some contortionism required!

Here’s to many more years of learning—and of overturning.

Sudoku, Provisional Assessments,
and the Space of Possibilities

February 6, 2024 by Joycelyn Campbell Leave a Comment

I enjoy working Sudoku puzzles, especially the hard or challenger level, and I always look forward to the super challenger puzzles on the back pages of Dell’s Crazy for Sudoku books that take days to complete. (They look like the puzzle pictured above.)

A friend once said that she’d completed a Sudoku puzzle and, having solved it, did not see a point in doing it again. Certainly completing a puzzle successfully is one point of Sudoku, but for me it’s the incomplete puzzle that’s juicy, especially if I’m struggling with it and not sure I’ll be able to solve it.

Sudoku puzzles are a great example of one of the aspects of existential troublesome knowledge I talked about in the last blog post: what we don’t know exceeds and is more important than what we know. The numbers that are not filled in are more important than the numbers that are filled in. And there’s no way to know at the outset which numbers go in which blank spaces. You can only find out by taking action. As you fill in more numbers, you get more information, and eventually you solve the puzzle. This is a life lesson some of us struggle to learn.

There’s always a point where I feel stuck, at least with some hard or challenger level puzzles. I can’t find a next number to fill in. I used to get frustrated when I was stuck, but after going through this process so many times, I’m quite familiar with it and am no longer frustrated by it. I think Sudoku has trained my brain to recognize that being stuck is a temporary condition and so I actually appreciate the experience now.

I don’t know if or how I will solve the puzzle, but I now appreciate the space of not knowing, of uncertainty, because it’s also the space of possibilities. This is the same space I get into when I’m grappling with a conceptual problem or puzzle. And in both Sudoku and conceptual problem-solving, one is more likely to arrive at a “solution,” by trying different approaches.

If the only puzzles I have available are easy or medium level, I create “rules” to make them at least a little bit more challenging. I would never, for example, start by filling in all the 1s, 5s, or 9s I can fill in because that’s too easy. But in a challenger level puzzle, I would definitely start that way in order to get at least a few spaces filled in.

In Sudoku, there is only one correct solution to the puzzle. The same isn’t necessarily so for conceptual puzzles where my aim is usually to arrive at a provisional assessment rather than a definitive conclusion because in the conceptual world we never have all the information. But I don’t think this difference is particularly significant, and I heartily recommend activities like Sudoku to train the brain to appreciate uncertainty and to sort of force ourselves to recognize how much we don’t know—and how neither condition is either fatal or even undesirable.

Moving around Inside the Space of Possibilities

The fact that what we don’t know is more important than what we know has been a subject of discussion in classes, workshops, and individual meetings. I asked a couple of different groups to consider, write about, and summarize their responses to statements that described different aspects of our lack of knowledge. Here’s what they had to say. (The statements they are responding to are in italics.)

Our predictions about the future are constrained by the present.

When we try to imagine our future, we can only see a small slice of possibility—based on our current mental model. The same is true about understanding our past—we do so based on who we are in the present. When we move to a different rock, we see new things and, to some extent, lose sight of what we saw before. —Susie

We are driven to make sense of the world, whether or not the world makes sense.

It never occurred to me that one would not be able to make sense of the world. Why, all one has to do is work hard enough, read, listen, observe, and have the intelligence to integrate all the available information, and understanding will come. Right? I’ve long assumed that the world not making much sense (in many ways) was a failure on my part (I’m obviously not getting it all, nor fast enough) because of course all things must be understandable, given the right type and amount of information/instruction etc. —Lisa

Our brain habitually constructs coherent and compelling stories—tailor-made for each of us—based on the information available and our mental model of the world.

We seem to live in some illusion of reality or a unique reality to each of us that is constantly shifting towards a pre-existing story that the brain has developed. We aren’t aware of the information that the brain is picking, discarding, ignoring or overlooking until after the fact. How to consciously participate in this story of our own reality? If it’s based on the information available to us and on our mental model of the world then it’s necessary to expand both, to become aware of what the brain is choosing to add to the stories. —Imelda

We prioritize cause-and-effect explanations and discount randomness (because we can’t account for it).”

How can we imagine a future without our history? Can I only imagine a future rooted in my past or can I possibly imagine a future untold? To understand that we are not divining our future but to accept that randomness plays a role in a possible eventuality serves up the possibility for change. —Sammie

Each of us is weaving stories, not uncovering absolute truth.

There are facts. 2+2=4. Truths are when we try to assign meanings to our perceptions of something that happened. Each of us has our own way of assigning meanings so no truths can be absolute, or shared by everyone. So we might as well weave beautiful stories, or at least useful ones. —Ann

We mistake perception for reality.

My perceptions seem to be more on the trees and not the forest. Actions and thoughts seem to be driven by a false narrative of what I perceive to be true. I can base life itself on little discussion and shoot from the hip decisions made in the small dark damp room on my shoulders, without much input from “me.” —Kelly

Our predictions about the future are constrained by coherence.

The future is way more exciting with those blinders noted. I am not even confined by my imagined trajectory! Why not create? —Adam

Onward

I invite you to consider these statements for yourself, along with the comments prompted by them. Where do they take you?

Asking ourselves what we don’t know in a given situation is useful even if we can’t answer that question just because it’s a reminder that we are always—100% of the time—operating based on limited information. Could there be something we don’t know, the knowing of which would change everything?

Brain Dead: Is Your Mind Temporarily Offline?

September 4, 2015 by Joycelyn Campbell Leave a Comment

Your brain has two systems for processing the stimuli and experiences of your life and determining how you act upon them.

Conscious: The processing system you’re aware of is called System 2. It is logical and intentional and sometimes referred to as “true reasoning.” (A formal outline is a good example.) It is also slow, limited, and easily depleted. It processes about 40 bits of information at a time.

Unconscious: The processing system you’re not aware of is called System 1. It is associative, which means it sees patterns and connects dots. (A mindmap is a good example.) It is fast, vast, and always on. It processes about 11,000,000 bits of information at a time.

If System 1 were to go offline, you would, too. Game over! But you can still function when System 2 is temporarily offline, even for long periods of time, such as when you’re asleep. So when you think or talk about being temporarily brain dead, you’re talking about exhausting System 2 attention.

If you’re in good health, there’s not much you can do to tax or exhaust the capacity of System 1—and there are things you can do to enhance its functioning. However, your supply of System 2 attention is always limited, and anything that occupies your working memory reduces it. Some examples of things that tax System 2 attention are:

Physical illness (even minor), injury, or lack of sleep
Making numerous trivial decisions throughout the day
Stress, anxiety, and worry
Exercising will power (forcing yourself to do something you don’t want to do or to not do something you do want to do)
Monitoring your behavior
Monitoring your environment if it is new or you consider it unsafe
Learning something new, traveling an unfamiliar route, etc.
Completing a complex computation
Trying to tune out distractions
A long period of concentrated or focused attention
Trying to remember dates, numbers, or unrelated facts
Listening to me talk

Since System 1 is fast, vast, always on, and has an answer for almost everything—and since you don’t need System 2 attention for most of what you do when you’re awake—what’s the big deal if you run out of System 2 attention from time to time?

Three Categories of Errors

Optimally, the two systems work together, and neither type of processing is superior. However, System 1 is more useful in some situations, while System 2 is not only more useful but also required in other situations.

System 1 is pretty good at what it does because its models of familiar situations are accurate so its short-term predictions tend to be accurate. But that’s not always the case. System 1 sacrifices accuracy for speed, meaning it jumps to conclusions. It also has biases and is prone to making logical errors.

One of System 2’s jobs is to detect System 1’s errors and adjust course by overriding System 1’s impulses. As Daniel Kahneman says in Thinking, Fast and Slow:

There are vital tasks that only System 2 can perform because they require effort and acts of self-control in which the intuitions and impulses of System 1 are overcome.

Bear in mind that System 1 is not rational. If System 2 is depleted and can’t veto or modify the non-rational impulses of System 1, those impulses then turn into actions (or speech).

There are three categories of errors you tend to make when System 2 is depleted.

Logical Errors

System 1 thinking uses shortcuts. System 2 thinking takes the long (logical/linear) way home. So when you’re out of System 2 attention, you’re more prone to making mistakes in anything that requires logical, linear thinking. Errors of intuitive thought can be difficult for System 2 to catch on a good day. When System 2 is offline, you automatically assume them to be correct. As a result:

You will have trouble making, following, or checking the validity of a complex logical argument. You’ll be more likely to be led by the cognitive biases and distortions System 1 uses because they don’t require any effort and give you a comforting sense of cognitive ease.

You will have difficulty comparing the features of two items for overall value. If you have to make a choice, you’ll be more likely to go with what intuitively feels right or the item that has some emotionally compelling attribute (it reminds you of the one your mother had, for example, or reminds you of your mother).

You will be more gullible. You’ll be more likely to believe things you wouldn’t otherwise believe or be persuaded by empty messages, such as in commercials. System 2 is the skeptic, so the best time for someone to take advantage of you is when it is offline.

Intention or Response Errors

System 1 continuously picks up on cues and triggers in your environment to determine what situation you’re in and to predict what’s next. Any deviation from the norm requires System 2 attention. If it isn’t available, you’re likely to do not what you intended to do but whatever is normal for you in that situation. And without System 2 attention, you’re much more likely to respond automatically (habitually) to the stimulus (cue or trigger).

System 2 is in charge of self-control, continuously monitoring your behavior, keeping you polite, for example, when you’re angry. In the heat of the moment, when you’re out of System 2 attention, you’re much less likely to be able to suppress your immediate emotional reactions to people and situations.

System 1 has an answer for almost everything. But when it encounters a surprising situation (something it hasn’t previously encountered or that is unusual in that situation), it notifies System 2. You don’t need System 2 attention to drive a familiar route, but if you encounter an obstacle along that route, you need System 2 to figure out what it is and to respond appropriately to it.

System 2 is also in charge of will power. If you are in the process of trying to stop doing something you habitually do (such as raiding the refrigerator in the evening), you need System 2 to belay the impulse from System 1 to see if there’s more pie. Without System 2, you’re more likely to give in, look for the pie…and eat it.

You need System 2 if you want to take a different route from your usual one or make an extra stop you don’t normally make. Without adequate System 2 attention, you’re likely to find yourself taking the usual route and forgetting to make that stop.

Gatekeeping Errors

We all have biases, whether or not we’re aware of them and whether or not we want to admit it. While it’s easy to spot overt biases and prejudices in other people, most of your own biases are hidden even from you. In the case of biases toward specific groups of people, you’ve likely come to a reasoned conclusion they’re wrong and have chosen not to think about and treat other people based on stereotypes. But that doesn’t mean the biases have disappeared. They’re still part of System 1’s associative processing operations. It’s just that when System 1 suggests a biased response to System 2, System 2 normally overrides it. Per Daniel Kahneman:

Conflict between an automatic reaction (System 1) and an intention to control it (System 2) is common in our lives.

When System 2 is depleted, there is no one at the gate to keep the biased or prejudiced responses from getting through. You may simply have a biased thought. You may say something in the presence of others that you wouldn’t normally say. Or you may respond to another person based on a group stereotype. The thought, comment, or behavior may be something you later regret. If you were to claim it doesn’t represent what you believe or the way you really feel or think, you’d most likely be right.

But when you see a blatant expression of bias or prejudice in someone else—especially a celebrity—you might have a different reaction. You might assume their true colors are showing. We think that what we see in other people when their guard is down and they’re pushed or stressed reveals the truth about them. But the actual truth is that to the extent we have any civility at all, it’s because System 2 maintains it. Without System 2 you and I would have no ability to question our biases or prejudices, no ability to come to reasoned conclusions about them, and no ability to monitor and veto System 1’s automatic reactions.

Conclusion

It isn’t always necessary, advisable, or even possible to override System 1. But when you deplete System 2, you can’t override it even when you want or need to. Without System 2, you can’t think straight (logically and linearly). So:

Don’t try to make important decisions of any kind when you feel brain dead.
Don’t assume you’ll feel or think the same way about something the next day as you do when you’re stressed, sick, just completed your annual tax return, or have recently fallen in love.
Don’t stay up late to watch the QVC channel unless you have a lot of money you’re trying to unload.
Don’t keep pie around if you’re trying not to eat it.
Don’t get into debates about complex issues after you’ve had a few beers.
Don’t tax your working memory with details you can keep track of some other way.
Don’t take System 2’s censoring of your biases and prejudices for granted. And don’t assume other people’s mental lapses reveal deep-seated truths about them.

Thinking, Fast and Slow (animated)

April 19, 2014 by Joycelyn Campbell 2 Comments

What Do You Want? redux

November 11, 2013 by Joycelyn Campbell 8 Comments

Right now. Right this moment. What do you really want?

It sounds like a simple question, but it’s often a difficult one to answer. So instead of answering the question what do I want? we answer a different question, an easier one, such as

What do I need?
What do I want that I think I’m capable of getting?
What do I want that’s practical?

Some of those might seem like reasonable approaches, but they sidestep the actual question.

Identifying what you want isn’t an excursion into narcissism. The fact that so many of us are unable to answer this question with any degree of conviction doesn’t indicate we’re selfless beings who aren’t concerned with our own wants and desires. To the contrary, the less clarity we have about what we really want in life, the likelier we are to settle for—even grab at—whatever gratifies our immediate, short-term desires.

But it’s impossible to be truly satisfied if you don’t know what you really want.

In Thinking, Fast and Slow, Daniel Kahneman talks about this phenomenon of answering an easier question than the one that was asked.

If a satisfactory answer to a hard question is not found quickly, System 1 [the unconscious] will find a related question that is easier and will answer it. I call the operation of answering one question in place of another “substitution.”

Substituting an easier question for the question, what do I want? has consequences that can be deadly—or at least deadening. If you can’t allow yourself to identify what you want in life, you diminish your possibilities dramatically. You lose touch with yourself. Your view of the world becomes narrower. You settle for less. And maybe every once in a while you’re kind of unpleasant to be around.

Could you want something that’s impossible (or seems impossible) to have? Of course! Wanting isn’t synonymous with having. The act of wanting something won’t somehow magically bring it into being, no matter how hard you wish for it. On the other hand, if you don’t even know what you want, then you’ve pretty much guaranteed you won’t go after it. It’s unlikely that everything you want will be impossible for you to have. So why not be honest with yourself and acknowledge what you want, whether or not you think you can have it?

When you ask yourself this question, throw reasonableness out the window and try answering the hard question instead of an easier one. If you keep doing that, the hard question actually becomes easier because you don’t have to keep censoring yourself. If it turns out that you want impossible, improbable, barely imaginable, or highly unlikely things, congratulations! You’re already a winner.

30 Days

Here’s a simple exercise to help you uncover what you want:

For 30 days, preferably consecutive, write “What I really want” at the top of a blank page and then list 15-20 things that you want right then and there. They can be small, medium, or large; material or ephemeral; practical or pie-in-the sky. Don’t put an inordinate amount of thought into creating your list. Write down whatever occurs to you. Repetition is the key. Date your list. At the end of 30 days, you’re likely to have a pretty good idea of what’s important to you and what you want. If not, do the exercise for 30 more days.