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Sunday, Jul 5, 2009
We all seem convinced we're right about politics, religion or science these days. What makes us so sure of ourselves?
By Robert Burton
Read more: Psychology, Science, Neurology, Robert Burton, Brains, Life, Mind Reader, Environment & Science
Feb. 29, 2008 | Certainty is everywhere. Fundamentalism is in full bloom. Legions of authorities cloaked in total conviction tell us why we should invade country X, ban "The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn" in schools, eat stewed tomatoes, how much brain damage is necessary to justify a plea of diminished capacity, the precise moment when a sperm and an egg must be treated as a human being, and why the stock market will revert to historical returns. A public change of mind is national news.
But why? Is this simply a matter of stubbornness, arrogance or misguided thinking, or is the problem more deeply rooted in brain biology? Since my early days in neurology training, I have been puzzled by this most basic of cognitive problems: What does it mean to be convinced? This question might sound foolish. You study the evidence, weigh the pros and cons, and make a decision. If the evidence is strong enough, you are convinced there is no other reasonable answer. Your resulting sense of certainty feels like the only logical and justifiable conclusion to a conscious and deliberate line of reasoning.
But modern biology is pointing in a different direction. It is telling us that despite how certainty feels, it is neither a conscious choice nor even a thought process. Certainty and similar states of "knowing what we know" arise out of primary brain mechanisms that, like love or anger, function independently of rationality or reason. Feeling correct or certain isn't a deliberate conclusion or conscious choice. It is a mental sensation that happens to us.
The importance of being aware that certainty has involuntary neurological roots cannot be overstated. If science can shame us into questioning the nature of conviction, we might develop some degree of tolerance and an increased willingness to consider alternative ideas -- from opposing religious or scientific views to contrary opinions at the dinner table.
I call the mental sensation of certainty the "feeling of knowing." Everyone is familiar with the most commonly recognized feeling of knowing. When asked a question, you feel strongly that you know an answer that you cannot immediately recall. Psychologists refer to this easily recognizable feeling as a tip-of-the-tongue sensation. The frequent accompanying comment as you scan your mental Rolodex for the forgotten name or phone number is: "I know it but I just can't think of it." You are aware of knowing something, without knowing exactly what this sensation refers to. The most profound feeling of knowing is the "aha," a spontaneous notification from a subterranean portion of our mind, an involuntary all-clear signal that we have grasped the heart of a problem. It isn't just that we can solve the problem; we "know" that we understand it.
To understand what I mean about the feeling of knowing, read the following paragraph at normal speed. Don't skim, give up halfway through or skip to the explanation. Because this experience can't be duplicated once you know the explanation, take a moment to ask yourself how you feel about the paragraph. After reading the clarifying word, reread the paragraph. As you do, pay close attention to the shifts in your mental state and your feeling about the paragraph:
A newspaper is better than a magazine. A seashore is a better place than the street. At first it is better to run than to walk. You may have to try several times. It takes some skill but it is easy to learn. Even young children can enjoy it. Once successful, complications are minimal. Birds seldom get too close. Rain, however, soaks in very fast. Too many people doing the same thing can also cause problems. One needs lots of room. If there are no complications it can be very peaceful. A rock will serve as an anchor. If things break loose from it, however, you will not get a second chance.
Is this paragraph comprehensible or meaningless? Feel your mind sort through potential explanations. Now watch what happens with the presentation of a single word: kite.
In an instant, you are flooded with the "aha" feeling that the paragraph makes sense. There's no time for deep consideration and evaluation. Before you can reread the paragraph, your unconscious mind has already sorted through various possibilities, determined that the sentences collectively fit the description of a kite and sent you notification.
