Useful Concepts – #9 – Experience Machines

Quite possibly the first use of the adjective “superduper” in philosophical literature occurred in the mid-1970s in this paragraph by Robert Nozick:

“Suppose there was an experience machine that would give you any experience you desired. Superduper neuropsychologists could stimulate your brain so that you would think and feel you were writing a great novel, or making a friend, or reading an interesting book. All the time you would be floating in a tank, with electrodes attached to your brain. Should you plug into this machine for life, preprogramming your life experiences? If you are worried about missing out on desirable experiences we can suppose that business enterprises have researched thoroughly the lives of many others. You can pick and choose from their large library or smorgasbord of such experiences, selecting your life’s experiences of, say, the next two years. After two years have passed, you will have ten minutes or ten hours out of the tank to select the experiences of your next two years. Of course, while in the tank you won’t know that you’re there; you’ll think that it’s all actually happening. Others can also plug in to have the experiences they want, so there’s no need to stay unplugged to serve them. (Ignore problems such as who will service the machines if everyone plugs in.) Would you plug in? What else can matter to us, other than how our lives feel from the inside?”

Nozick gives three answers:

  1. We want to do certain things, rather than just have the experience of doing them. (But even Nozick asks, but why?)
  2. We want to be a certain way, to be a certain person. If we plug in, we’re just an “indeterminate blob.” Nozick asks, is the person in the tank courageous, kind, intelligent, witty, loving? How could we know? How could they be?
  3. Plugging in “limits us to a man-made reality, to a world no deeper or more important than that which people can construct. There is no actual contact with any deeper reality, though the experience of it can be simulated.”

The experience machine has created a whole literature, not to mention any number of sci-fi films. People have worked out variants, for example where you never emerge from the machine until your biological death, in order to get rid of the idea that you could ever become conscious of spending a lot of time just being a body in a tank, and so on.

People argue over whether Nozick got the right reasons to reject the machine. Some people may also take pleasure in the intellectual bravado of saying that they would plug in, that they see no reasons not to. That would be a typically annoying undergraduate posture to take up. (I’d know, I did for a whole afternoon. It was many years ago.)

The ongoing discussion just shows how great a concept the experience machine is. But the rejection of it, for most people who aren’t undergraduates in philosophy, is immediate and from the gut. (Not every belief or conviction that is instinctive and intuitive is necessarily right, though this one is.)

Experience machines exist, of course, and many of us plug ourselves in quite willingly. Some of those superduper people, for example, can help us flood our brains with a  bitter, white crystalline purine, a methylxanthine alkaloid that is chemically related to the adenine and guanine bases of deoxyribonucleic acid and ribonucleic acid. This blocks the action of adenosine on its receptor in the brain and stimulates the autonomic nervous system. It makes us less drowsy, more alert, physically faster and better co-ordinated. It can increase our heart rate and pulse. You’ll be aware of course, that we don’t have to plug into electrodes and float in a tank for this. And the superduper people aren’t neuropsychologists, but more likely baristas. This experience machine is just a regular cup of coffee.

But physical symptoms and mental states are a two-way street. Research has shown, for example, that, even when you feel you have no reasons to, you can smile for a while and your mood will improve, or you can clench your fist for a while and that can make you more aggressive. And so this experience machine can give us the impression that we’re well rested and refreshed (not in any way drowsy or tired) or that we’re facing an amazing, interesting experience (alertness, fast pulse) or a fight-or-flight type situation (heart beating faster, sudden alertness) even when it’s just a routine Monday morning and we’re on our way to the day-job.

There is, of course, also the type of organic compound in which the hydroxyl functional group is bound to a saturated carbon atom. This is an experience machine that can give us the desirable experience of being socially less inhibited, much more certain that other people find us entertaining and generally convinced that we’re all round great people. It can be ingested in pleasant-tasting drinks like wine and beer.

And anyone who has ever seen a small child on a sugar rush may also find it easy to believe that sugar provides a desirable experience of enjoyment and mental energy, not least by activating dopamine in the brain in a way that is similar to stronger drugs.

I’ll call things like coffee or alcohol  “mini experience machines.” After all, the effect lasts a much shorter time than a session in the superduper neuropsychologists’ floatation tank experience would. And it gives us not so much a whole set of new experiences that are wholly separate to what we’re doing and who we are, but it puts a little layer of, say, additional (alternative) reality, over and above that reality.

I’m not saying that coffee, alcohol and sugar are therefore bad things or that we need to reject them with the instinctive vehemence with which we would reject the idea of plugging into an experience machine. But it probably helps to be aware of the “experience machine light” effect of such things.

I also find some of the tools some of us work with are a bit like experience machines in that they give us an interface to interact with the world in a way that, as much as possible, reduces reality to things that pop up on a screen. So I know that people want to give me some information or want me to do something in something like the following way (that’s not my real inbox, by the way):

I  can have conversations and exchanges with lots of people and all the while I’m just “plugged in” to a screen.

So, in fact, there may be lots of mini experience machines that interact in various ways to put layers of differing experiences across “real” life on a day-by-day basis. And although we may not have the same reasons to reject these mini experience machines – after all, they are more time-limited, localised in terms of their effect and less intrusive in the way we can link up to them – maybe we should aim to be suspicious of them, particularly if we’re veering to more extended use (both in terms of timing or in terms of range of experience), so if one or more of the following are true:

  1. We use them in high doses, frequently or on a daily basis.
  2. They give us experiences that we worry we wouldn’t otherwise have enough of in our lives – excitement, connection, attention, confidence, mental energy.
  3. We would be forced to live our lives differently, if we didn’t have them.
  4. We couldn’t function properly in our daily lives without them.

But since I’ve declared so many things mini experience machines, would we even know whether we’re using them too much?

First of all, it is possible to take stock of the mini experience machines we use. We can then try not using them. Or, if that is too difficult, we could ask, what would the consequence be for the way I live my life, if I didn’t plug into this experience machine? How would I have to deal with the tiredness or the lack of challenges in my reality if I didn’t have coffee to simulate alertness? Why am I so inhibited when meeting people that I need alcohol to have its effect? What energy rush or feelings of enjoyment would I like that I currently take from sugar rushes?

And presumably, finding out about these things is what lots of people do these days when they sit down and pay attention to their breathing, to their mind and their thoughts with minimal stimulation from mini experience machines or communication technologies (particularly first thing in the morning when the body has processed all the ingested experience machines from the previous day). Maybe then they can listen to the real experience and find out if the like it, or not.

Or it may be away from screens in green spaces and in nature surrounded by other life forms who are less prone to plug into experience machines. Or it may be something we do while deeply involved in community, voluntary or religious activities. (These practices, by the way, have all been demonstrated to increase wellbeing.) They may also all help us to access the things in Nozick’s three reasons for rejecting experience machines:

  1. We may gain a better understanding of what we are doing in our lives, rather than just having the experience of doing them.
  2. We can ask ourselves and learn about what kind of person we are or want to be (rather than being an indeterminate blob).
  3. And we may even access a world that is deeper or more important “than that which people can construct.”

 

 

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Useful Concepts – #8 – Just Going for It

The first thing to be aware of is the so-called “paradox of choice.” This provides the background for some useful concepts for making decisions. The paradox is that we expect more choice to be better for us and to make us happier but it doesn’t. Psychologists have found that once we have too much choice, say 24 flavours of jam or types of breakfast cereal rather than 4, we become less able to choose, more worried about the consequences of our choice, more likely to be stressed out about making the choice, potentially even anxious about whether we’ll regret it, and eventually less happy with our choice in retrospect.

Of course there are strategies and techniques for dealing with the problem of too much choice. For example, there’s the distinction between optimising and satisficing. Optimising is a strategy whereby you keep considering further options until you’ve convinced yourself that you have the best one. Satisficing is a decision-making approach whereby you set yourself some criteria that have to be fulfilled, and as soon as you find an option that fulfils them, you go for it. So, if you’re dining out and choosing a main course from a menu, you might set yourself the criteria green, vegetarian and rich in carbs and as soon as you arrive at the spaghetti al pesto, you look no further.

Beyond the strategies and techniques, there are useful insights from the philosophy of practical reason. This looks at what it means to have reasons for action or to act on reasons. When I read certain philosophers on this subject, I can’t help having the image in my head that we are like characters in one of those video game where you walk through an environment and jump to avoid a hole in the ground, duck to avoid flying objects, or swerve to collect objects for bonus points. In those games, if you fail to take the right action, you may lose a life. If you take it skilfully, you get bonus points or reach the next level. Much like real life then.

Let’s accept then that as rational animals we just are responsive to certain features of the world we live in which are reasons for action. They are not in any way magical entities. Having a bottle of water available when we are thirsty could be a reason to drink it.  Seeing someone who looks lost or distressed may be a reason to help them. Wanting to improve our health and fitness may be a reason to go to a gym.

But here’s a minor difficulty: our environment is a bit more complex than that of a video game. That’s partly because there is no reason to believe that the world is designed in such a way that in any given situation there is just one reason available to us that is the right one for us to act on. There may be many reasons available to us and some of them may be reasons for actions that are mutually exclusive.

So, say for example, that in the past I promised to visit a friend on a given day. That is a reason to make a visit. But – assume I’m also a tennis obsessive – at the same time suddenly and surprisingly someone gives me a ticket to see the Wimbledon finals. Now I have a reason to do that. So now I have a dilemma. Some people might say that the reason provided by a promise I made trumps the prospect of the relatively selfish pleasure of watching a game of tennis. (But you could imagine that my visit could be easily re-arranged, that my friend had alternative things to do and is quite happy not to be visited, that the tennis was going to be the last public appearance of a great player…) And the dilemma could just as easily be between two strong moral reasons for doing something.

These dilemmas caused by competing reasons can be large, serious and to some extent painful. But they can also be positive. Once or twice people have come to me and said things like: “I need advice. I really don’t know what to do. I’ve been offered a new job, but then my current job is also getting really interesting and there may be an opportunity for promotion here…” The first thing to understand is that these are not desperate, overwhelming situations in which it is necessarily the case that one choice is right and the other wrong. When seen in perspective a positive dilemma is actually a relatively pleasant situation to be in. It is a mistake to think that just because we are asked to choose between alternatives, one must be right and the other wrong. Or just because we have several options, they can be ranked in order of goodness and one is clearly the best. The strength of the reasons available to act upon may not even be measurable by the same yardstick. Again, there just is no reason to assume that the world is organised for us in such a simple way.

So maybe what we need is some useful concepts to help us with the fact that reasons for action can pull us in different directions at the same time. Here are some of them.

1. Just doing something: This is a favourite of mine. Once we understand that the world is not organised in a way that guarantees that there is always a right choice and only ever exactly one, and once we have acquired a feel for what it’s like to be in such a situation, it is easier to just do something. In philosophical literature this is sometimes inelegantly described as “plumping” for a choice. This is definitely valid for times where we run out of further criteria or reasons to choose one way over another. (It may be more advisable for relatively trivial choices.)

2. Paying attention to the ‘remainder’ and dealing with it: There may be situations in which we have to make a choice, or take an action, from which we just don’t emerge particularly well. (The situation of being double-booked and having to cancel one commitment springs to mind.) Again, where someone is caught in a dilemma, the existence of a choice between several options doesn’t guarantee that one of them is the right action. In those situations it might help to understand that there is a “remainder” to deal with. That is to say an expectation that regret is felt and expressed, an apology, some kind of restitution or compensation made willingly.

3. Character – the kind of person I am or want to be: In her book On Virtue Ethics, Rosalind Hursthouse provides a very serious example of a dilemma:

“Suppose (just for the sake of an example) that whether to ask the doctors to continue to prolong one’s unconscious mother’s life by extraordinary means for another year, or to discontinue treatment now, would be an irresolvable dilemma in some cases.”

She then considers two very different people in that situation:

One might be a doctor herself, someone who had always striven to think of the human body as a living, and hence mortal, thing, not as a machine to be tinkered with; she knows that, if her mother were her patient, she would advise the discontinuation of treatment. The other might be someone who worked with apparently hopeless cases of mental disability, someone who said of herself ‘I never give up hope; I couldn’t do the job if I let myself.’ Faced with some such decision as the one outlined, it seems that each might act differently, each believing, correctly, that she had a (…) reason for favouring the action she elected to take.

And while the situation involved and the possible outcomes just are such that it may look wrong to say the both took the right action, as Hursthouse remarks, it is plausible to describe them as having acted well –

courageously, responsibly, thoughtfully, conscientiously, honestly, wisely – and not just describe them merely as having done what was permissible, which any cowardly, irresponsible, thoughtless, heedless, self-deceiving fool could just as well have done in the circumstances.

So my biography, my standards, my ideals, things that have always been important to me are valid pointers to which competing reasons I should act on. (I always thought that mottos inscribed on coats of arms may function in that kind of way.) This could also help in more trivial and positive situations than the one described by Hursthouse. Choosing from a menu for example, I could say to myself “I like being adventurous, so I will order something I’ve never had that looks a bit unusual.” Or I could say “I know what’s good and what I like, so why shouldn’t I have the same I had last time. After all, if it ain’t broke don’t fix it.”

As someone said, choices when repeated over time become habits, habits over time become character. And character can in turn become a guide to the choices we should make.

 

 

 

 

Why Do Philosophers Not Make The News?

Why do philosophers not make the news?

Maybe it’s because Empedocles was so misunderstood by his contemporaries that he jumped into a volcano, Socrates was sentenced to death by the good citizens of Athens, Seneca was driven to suicide by the mad emperor Nero and in more modern times Heidegger became a Nazi.

But let’s rewind…

Derek Parfit, the most influential moral philosopher of our time, died on 1 January 2017. It wasn’t reported in the news. This  caused some consternation and sadness among professional philosophers. If “fake news” weren’t enough to worry about, an absurd selection and prioritisation towards the hysterical (“ISIS bomb plots!”) and the trivial (“Is this the year Prince Harry will marry Meghan Markle?”) rather than the actually important (I know, according to whom?) would still be a problem.

The New Statesman recently published an article by David Herman lamenting the passing of the days when Isaiah Berlin’s death made front page news, Mary Warnock and Bernard Williams were on Royal Commissions and government committees for this, that and the other, radio and television took an interest in A. J. Ayer and publishers spent serious money on academic philosophers.

(Don’t say: “but what about Alain de Botton? He’s still on telly? He still sells lots of books?” Yes, but he’s not an academic philosopher. Many of them would say that if doing philosophy is like drinking double espressos, his stuff is what you get when you spoon off the top of a cappuccino. You know, the bit that has all the chocolate powder on it. It may taste milky, frothy and sweet but it has never been in touch with a molecule of caffeine.)

In the New Statesman article a number of philosophers and commentators are quoted as blaming any number of things for the demise of the philosopher as public intellectual among which:

  • The Research Assessment Exercise, a quality assurance process the Government imposes on universities, which drives philosophers to publish articles in journals rather than talk to the public;
  • the end of deference and distrust of experts meaning that people don’t want someone out of a cosy college in Oxford telling them what to think
  • The media, dumbed down and driven to sensationalism and by the need to make money from advertising
  • Politicians who are not as interested as their predecessors (“Margaret Thatcher was interested in Popper, Friedrich Hayek and Michael Oakeshott…” When Tony Blair was asked in the weekly Parliamentary Questions to the Prime Minister to briefly outline his political philosophy, he was completely stumped. None of this is meant to be evidence that an interest in philosophy is good for a Prime Minister.)

You’ll have noticed, a lot of the blame goes to things other than philosophers or the academic discipline of philosophy.

Don’t get me wrong: I think an update on the latest developments in philosophy should be reported in every news bulletin. I think leading philosophers should be consulted on every bit of government policy. I think there should be reality TV shows in which a group of philosophers are sent to a five star beach resort to debate the meaning of life and no one should ever be voted off by the public. I think every new Doctor of Philosophy should be able to publish his or her doctoral thesis to the commercial success of de Botton’s greatest hits, or even J. K. Rowling’s. I think television networks should use the kind of budgets they use for Game of Thrones to make a television drama series of Plato’s Republic.

But I also think that philosophy needs to acknowledge its own role in raising its public profile and should have to work a bit harder. I’d like to acknowledge here the work that lots of philosophers do in international governance committees, in human rights advocacy, teaching, lecturing, giving seminars, making podcasts, tweeting or writing articles for popular consumption. But clearly that isn’t quite enough yet to get philosophers into the news, even when they die.

So here are some alternative reasons why philosophy may not have a higher public profile that look more to the role of philosophers in all of this:

  • Philosophy attracts for the most part introverts (I assume) who would rather study on their own with some books  for company, rather than be out there among people explaining what they’re doing. They are also maybe keener to spend time thinking, than broadcasting.
  • Philosophers are too modest to  talk publicly about the progress being made within the discipline. They are humbled everyday by the really big questions they deal with and the limits of the human mind to comprehend things. Humility is fine. The dirty flip side of that coin is that some philosophers jealously denounce anything that has commercial success or aspirations as “not the real thing.” That makes it more difficult for good communicators and non-academics to make a contribution on behalf of the discipline.
  • There is also a stance of “well, if it takes this to be read, heard and seen by wider sections of the public, I don’t want to be influential or popular. I just want to be seen as brilliant and wonderful by my peers in academic philosophy.” That retreat back to your own clique smacks a bit of a lack of confidence. It could be compared to re-living a traumatic “nerdy vs. cool and popular kids” trauma.
  • Philosophers are careful about the language they use and the way they make their arguments. They spend time defining their terms. They have learned to put three concessive clauses after every positive statement and to anticipate a few arguments that could be made against what they’re saying. They give the views of the people they disagree with the most charitable interpretation before they take them apart. That doesn’t make for the most impactful communications.
  • There is no premium on people working together to find common ground and reach consensus on a question in philosophy. Working alone to demolish everything that has been thought before is just as valuable, if not more so, than putting forward a positive proposal, than showing where there is a high level consensus. (Thanks, Socrates!) But what if people were genuinely interested in where philosophy has progressed towards insights, rather than where it has gone back to the drawing board?
  • Philosophers are perhaps genuinely traumatised by the history of unsuccessful to catastrophic interactions between philosophers and the public realm. Socrates got killed. Plato got too close to the tyrant of Syracuse which ended badly for him. Seneca got too close to Nero which harmed his reputation and ended badly for him. Heidegger got too close to Hitler. Sartre too close to Stalinism. (And Michael Ignatieff – Isaiah Berlin’s biographer – led his party to its worst electoral defeat in Canada. There are lessons there!
  • And in return, philosophers who want to be politicians have to disavow any knowledge of philosophy. Julian Baggini writes the following about two British politicians:

 

[Former Minister and member of the Cabinet] Oliver Letwin, for instance, has a PhD on the subject but when I asked him if that was a disadvantage in politics he answered, “massive”, without hesitation. “I do my best to conceal it.” Another brainy MP, Tony Wright, once found himself quoting Mill in a parliamentary debate, “and I just realised how odd that was, and how embarrassing it was.”

Given these challenges, what could philosophers do? Starting from the non-reporting of Parfitt’s death, it would be sensible to adopt the principle that if you want to make the news when you die, you have to make yourself known while you’re alive. You can’t just rely on having strategically placed disciples in politics and the media who will ensure the eternal afterlife of your fame and ideas. (That worked only for Leo Strauss.)

  • Don’t do down those who communicate philosophy well as not doing the real thing. Even if they provide journalistic surveys of the history of philosophy, rather than engage in academic philosophy, their activities could be the entry-level drug for the mind that hooks people on philosophy so they can be sold your harder stuff.
  • Paint a picture of real progress in philosophy coming up with real answers to big questions around which consensus is being built. Then explain how these answers affect human life. For example, tell the story about how philosophers were in court rooms explaining the writings of Plato and Aristotle to help settle questions around gay rights (at least Martha Nussbaum was). Peter Singer’s campaign for animal liberation can be traced back to the writings of Mill and Bentham.
  • Make the communication of philosophy a greater part of academic activity. Scientists embrace the “public understanding of science” as a part of what they do. They put some of the best and brightest in charge of it. They make them professors and Fellows of the Royal Society and President of the Royal Institution. Google “Professor for the Public Understanding of Philosophy” and you get one person: Professor Angie Hobbs at the University of Sheffield. She seems very active but I’m not sure she can do it on her own.

In his New Statesman article, David Herman concludes that if you care, you should:

go to your local library or bookshop or follow debates online: be your own border guard and wear a black armband for an era that has passed.

Sadly, retreating to the local library or bookshop to mourn for previous better times may be tempting. Philosophy was always tempted to retreat to a more private place: Plato’s Academy, Aristotle’s Peripatos, Epicurus’ garden.

An alternative would be for it to be out in the market place (Socrates’ Agora) making its case.

Three Things I Want to Learn From Roger Federer

  1. How to serve that fast
  2. How to hit a one-handed backhand like that
  3. How to win a grand slam tennis tournament

Ok, but seriously now…

With the exception of David Foster Wallace’s 2006 essay “Roger Federer as Religious Experience,” it is probably inadvisable to look for too much metaphysical insight from the activities of sportspeople.

Continue reading Three Things I Want to Learn From Roger Federer

Useful Concepts – #7 – Chardi Kala – Sikh Reasons to Be Cheerful

“They alone are called husband and wife, who have one soul in two bodies” says Sikh scripture. And when I got to know the beautiful person who later became my wife and her Punjabi Sikh background, which is different from mine, my mind and my soul were certainly drawn to learn new things from her cultural, spiritual and intellectual background.

Reading Sikh scripture, or reading about Sikhism, occasionally sitting in a Gurdwara, a Sikh temple, and being able to read translations of the teachings of the Gurus that were being read, I gained insights into new concepts and new ways of thinking that enriched mine.

In many ways, I am not the ideal person to write about the things I am going to write about. I haven’t managed (yet) to learn modern Punjabi, let alone the older language in which the teachings of the Sikh Gurus were written. I haven’t been able to read or study much of the history of Indian religion and philosophy which forms the intellectual background to the teachings of the Sikh Gurus. So I write this tentatively, in the hope that if I get things wrong no one will take offence and (at least) someone will correct me.

The useful concept here is called “chardi kala.” These words actually don’t feature, so far as I could see, in the teachings of the Gurus, but they feature in a key prayer, the ardās. They also feature in everyday talk of Sikhs, as in:

“How are you?”

“Oh, I’m in chardi kala!”

Chardi kala can be translated as “relentless cheerfulness, optimism and hope (even in the face of challenges or disaster).” It explains major dramatic historical events, like the willingness of Sikh Gurus to face martyrdom cheerfully rather than be forced to change their faith, to positivity in the face of things that get thrown at ordinary people in the course of a normal life.

Chardi kala is founded in some key philosophical and religious beliefs of the Sikh faith. But my strong belief is that it is a useful concept even for people who aren’t of the Sikh or of any faith. I’ll try to discuss some of the principles that are at the foundation of chardi kala. I’ll also discuss what pointers to a more cheerful life those who don’t have a religious background can derive from these principles.

Everything that happens to us and everything we do is predestined.

Guru Nanak, the founder of the Sikh faith, says things like:

“By his written command, pain and pleasure are obtained.”

“We come to receive what is written in our destiny.”

“The mortal does that work, which has been pre-destined from the beginning.”

These are all ways of saying that whatever happens to us is pre-ordained or decided in advance. A key image that is used again and again is that what happens to us is written on our foreheads. That is to say, our fates are so clearly pre-determined that they might as well be written on our face.

The link to chardi kala is that we don’t need to be too judgemental to ourselves about the eventual outcome of our actions and activities. We can neither attribute our success to ourselves, nor blame ourselves for failure. Another quote from Sikh scripture is:

“the sharp tool cuts down the tree but it does not feel anger in its mind. It serves the purpose of the cutter and does not blame him at all.”

To presuppose that everything is predestined, is a controversial point. In the argument between those who believe that we live in a fully predetermined universe as fully predetermined creatures and those who believe that we exercise free will, consensus has not yet been achieved. Neither is there an agreed view on what the consequences for our ethics and state of mind should be, if one or the other were true.

A claim that might be easier for most people to agree on though is this: There are always factors at play that influence what actions we are able or inclined to take, as well as our thoughts and feelings and that we are not aware of. And there are factors outside of our control that control what we are able or unable to do. In the big debate, for example, over whether nature or nurture determine more what becomes of us, the point is often forgotten that both are given to us before we can make conscious decisions for ourselves. The family we grow up in, our earliest care and upbringing, the kind of parenting and early years education we receive is pretty much as far outside of our conscious choice as our genes. And all of these factors shape our actions for life.

In addition, there is increasing evidence and understanding about things going on in our brains or minds that influence our actions without us being aware of them. For example, the large number of thoughts that run through our minds that we aren’t necessarily paying attention to, or the things, we purely do out of habit without ever exercising choice.

Then there are also the many weird and wonderful factors that research has identified, such as the fact that we tend to be kinder (warmer) towards people if we’re holding a warm cup of tea or coffee, or that we negotiate harder if we are in contact with a hard surface, or that people are statistically more likely to live on roads that start with the same letter as their name.

The question then is, what proportion of our actions would we have to think of as in some way influenced by factors outside of our choice to ease up a bit on ourselves? The majority? Or is it enough just to believe that there’s a chance that any of our successes or failures were co-created by a single factor outside of our control? In any case, I believe it’s likely that enough of what we do, think and feel is outside of our control to make it irrational to be down on ourselves about anything that doesn’t work out the way it did. (Neither should we be too proud of anything that turns out well, though there’s no reason we shouldn’t enjoy it.)

Not being in control of our actions (or not being entirely in control), is perhaps a reason not to worry too much about anything that goes wrong, but some people may not find it sufficient reason yet to be cheerful. There are some other factors that may help.

2. Everything is interconnected.

The key statement of Sikhism is hard to translate but here are two translations by renowned experts.

“There is one supreme being, the eternal reality, the creator, without fear and devoid of enmity, immortal, never incarnated, self-existent, known by the grace of the Guru.”

“One, Manifest as Word, True of Name, Creative Being, Without Fear, Without Enmity, Whose Form is Infinite, Unborn, Self Existent, through the grace of the guru.”

“One” or the numeral “1” is the first word in Sikh scripture. This is not just an expression of monotheism, a statement that there is one God. It goes further. God is in everything.

The Sikh Gurus teach that God is “pervading everywhere, totally permeating the water, the land and the sky.” And the gurus mention that, “having created the universe God remains diffused throughout it. In the wind, water and fire he vibrates and resounds.”

In a stunningly poetic extended metaphor, Guru Ram Das says:

“He Himself is the field, and He Himself is the farmer. He Himself grinds the corn. He Himself cooks it, He Himself puts the food in the dishes, and He Himself sits down to eat. He Himself is the water, He Himself gives the tooth-pick and He Himself offers the mouthwash. He Himself calls and seats the congregation, and He Himself bids them goodbye.”

Try to unravel that! It means that the divine being has not just created the universe but is every part of the universe and every process that goes on in the universe. (It creates, processes, consumes, serves, is served, invites, and bids farewell).

What is more, the divine is within us human beings. Guru Arjan Dev writes, “He dwells deep within, inside the heart.” And crucially, Guru Amar Das says: “O mind, give up the love of duality. The Lord dwells within you.” Giving up the love of duality would mean to stop seeing oneself as a different entity from everything else.

That oneness is another foundation for chardi kala. Why should it matter what happens to me, if this perception of myself as a separate entity is a bit of an illusion, or at least an exaggerated sense of the importance my point of view? Why should I not move with flow of the universe perfectly cheerfully. As we’ve seen above, an important statement of the Sikh faith is that the One is “without fear” and “without enmity.” That can be seen as a logical consequence of rejecting dualism. It would take two, for something to fear something, or for something to be inimical to something. The fearlessness and positivity of chardi kala is founded in that principle.

To the secular mind, the claim that “all is one” may sound like the ultimate new age cliché. And I’m aware that the additional claim that the one is God, or that the divine fully permeates the one, will not make it any easier to believe.

But again, there are related less strong assumptions that could take the edge off fear and enmity give rise to the sense of cheerfulness and optimism that is chardi kala. We don’t need to believe that all is one. It may suffice to remind ourselves that we don’t live in isolation. I just want to mention three related thoughts:

  • We are able to let go of our subjective point of view and take on a more objective perspective, sometimes called the point of view of the universe, the view from nowhere or the view from the perspective of eternity. Taking that view, when we feel particularly sorry for ourselves can help relativise whatever it is that causes us to feel sorry for ourselves, or remind us to be grateful for what we have and what is going well in our lives.
  • Feeling connected with other people, just having social contact, has been shown to be a major factor in increasing wellbeing and happiness. Taking altruistic action, doing someone a favour, giving to charity or someone in need, has equally shown to be able to improve happiness.
  • Feeling connected to nature, even if it’s a green space in an inner city improves wellbeing. Spending time in nature has been shown to improve health impacts, e. g. by lowering blood pressure. Hospital patients with a view of plants have been shown to recover faster than those who had no such view.

3. Life as a human being is an opportunity too good to be squandered.

The Sikh Gurus regard the human life as a precious opportunity. This is because they believe that a soul wanders through various incarnations until it is freed from the cycle of re-birth. (Once it is released from having to be embodied in a living creature it is said to have entered nirvana.) A soul can be incarnated (literally “entered into flesh”) in any species. (That shared belief is also the reason why the some of the earlier Western philosophers recommended vegetarianism.) But the human being has the best chance to lead the kind of life that would lead to nirvana. (Though the Gurus are not derogatory about other species. They say: “Even kings and emperors, with mountains of property and oceans of wealth – these are not even equal to an ant, who does not forget God.”

So for example, in Sikh scripture you frequently read things like:

Through 8.4 million incarnations you have wandered, to obtain this rare and precious human life. (Guru Arjan Dev)

he wastes this human body, so difficult to obtain. In his ignorance, he tears up his own roots. (Guru Arjan Dev)

That body, which you believe to be your own, and your beautiful home and spouse none of these is yours to keep. See this, reflect upon it and understand. You have wasted the precious jewel of this human life; you do not know the Way of the Lord of the Universe. (Guru Teg Bahadur)

So, being born as a human being is already proof of great good fortune and a massive opportunity to achieve the release from suffering in various incarnations. As well as making the most of the opportunity (that would be through virtuous conduct and focus on the divine nature), it also is  a reason for cheerfulness and optimism. We could after all reach nirvana after a long series of  incarnations.

Again, I would argue that there is a pointer here to reasons for cheerfulness even for those who do not necessarily buy into the whole background of belief in re-incarnation through a number of species. Without wanting to be disrespectful to other species, it is hard to deny that as human beings we enjoy advanced cognitive functions, abilities to communicate, express ourselves and apply reason to practical and theoretical problems.

These are a unique opportunity to think about the kind of life that makes for a good life. (As Aristotle says in another point that compares being human with being an animal of another species, the good life must be about more than just satisfying our desires, otherwise we’d be no different from cattle eating grass.) They are also unique capabilities with which we can achieve greater happiness, such as cultivating conversations and relationships with other human beings, deepening our understanding of the universe and our place within it or contemplating the beautiful and the sublime (which in turn points us to that which is greater than our own time-bound existence). This life then as a human being is an opportunity to engage in all sorts of valuable activities. Of that opportunity we should make the most. We should also be happy that we have it.

 

 

 

Useful Concepts – #6 – Foxes vs. Hedgehogs

Apparently, there are two classes of people, those who divide people into two classes, and those who don’t.

Isaiah Berlin was in the former class when he brought the following fragment of the Ancient Greek Poet Archilochus to greater fame as a tool for classifying people:

“The fox knows many things, but the hedgehog knows one big thing.”

Continue reading Useful Concepts – #6 – Foxes vs. Hedgehogs

Useful Concepts – #5 – Adaptive vs. Technical Challenges

I hope my last post didn’t give the impression that I don’t like the genre of leadership literature. I love it and am too easily seduced by its promise that it’s the qualities and skills of individuals that can effect great change rather than, say, luck and events.

One of my favourites of the genre is Ronald A. Heifetz and Martin Linsky’s Leadership on the Line, despite or because of its only slightly paranoid sub-title Staying Alive Through the Dangers of Leading.

The most useful concept from that book is the distinction between adaptive and technical challenges.

Technical challenges are those for which there are standard operating procedures, a set of available know-how, or authorities and experts at hand.

Adaptive challenges are the other ones. Continue reading Useful Concepts – #5 – Adaptive vs. Technical Challenges

Did We Spend Too Much Time Talking About Leadership And Not Enough Doing Management?

[Warning: the following paragraphs contain graphic scenes of leadership training that may be upsetting to some readers. None of it happened at the organisation that currently employs me. Neither at the last one I worked for. The organisation where it did take place is now a very different organisation under very different, erm… leadership.]

Picture a generic conference venue. Between 100-200 “Senior Leaders” of the organisation are dotted around the big room trying to eke out a few more minutes of their tea break, grabbing another free cup of tea and another cookie.

But there’s no such thing as a free tea. The Leadership Coach paid to deliver the next session has other ideas. She strides onto the stage and sends a piercing whistle across the room. Not for her the more customary way of calling the meeting to order – that would be grabbing a microphone and saying things like, “er, excuse me, could you all… excuse me… could we get back to our tables please? Hello… everyone?” for a while.

No, the Leadership coach has a purpose, a can-do attitude, she’s not a conformist and so she whistles at people. It certainly has some kind of effect. People are back in their seats as she talks, punctuating certain words with a shouty rise in volume: “You have a RECEPTIONIST in your organisation who RECOGNISES me when I come in and KNOWS MY NAME!” This is good work, underlining her point that everyone in every organisation can be a leader in some way or other, and at the same time subtly hinting that she is a frequent visitor to the building, leaving it to the imagination what important talks she’s having at the most senior levels on those occasions.

And that wasn’t the only such occasion. A few months earlier or later, at another “Senior Leaders Conference” much the same group of people was told to by a different leadership expert to “be themselves, but more” as a path to charismatic leadership. And this time the speaker underlined his point by putting up a slide showing Nelson Mandela in the famous rugby shirt episode. It’s not like coming up with this example took a PhD in leadership studies. The episode had only just been a focus of a major motion picture. But to be more like Nelson Mandela was a big ask of the audience – pale, stale and prone to fail, as one unkind and overly cynical colleague described it. Continue reading Did We Spend Too Much Time Talking About Leadership And Not Enough Doing Management?

Useful Concepts – #4 – Don’t Change Your Life, Use It!

Guess who had the following reading list:

  • Be Here Now by Baba Ram Dass
  • Zen Mind, Beginners Mind by Shunriu Suzuki
  • Autobiography of a Yogi by Paramahansa Yogananda
  • Cutting through Spiritual Materialism by Chögyam Trungpa

Yes, it was Steve Jobs, sometime in the seventies, according to his biographer Walter Isaacson. Isaacson tells us this, not least because it provides the intellectual – or maybe better spiritual – background for the minimalist aesthetics of what was to be Jobs’ global brand.

That spiritualism though was messy, often troubled and occasionally troubling compared to the clinical and secular mindfulness approaches we are more used to these days.

And yet… Continue reading Useful Concepts – #4 – Don’t Change Your Life, Use It!

Useful Concepts – #3 – Zero Thoughts

This post starts with a discussion between philosophers. That’s not as bad as it might sound to some. One of the philosophers involved is Bernard Williams (who made a cameo appearance in my previous post about psychopaths). The other one – to whom I owe this useful concept – is Harry Frankfurt, a philosopher who thinks and writes about things not many philosophers find worthy of great thought. His bestseller is the book “On Bullshit” which has made him a sought after authority in recent political discourse. But he also has published articles and books about love, not a topic that philosophers naturally gravitate towards.

But back to the discussion… Continue reading Useful Concepts – #3 – Zero Thoughts