Wednesday, August 22, 2012
Song: Katie Cruel
When I first came to town,
They called me the roving jewel;
Now they've changed their tune,
They call me Katy Cruel,
Oh, diddle, lully day,
Oh, de little lioday.
Chorus
Oh that I was where I would be,
Then I would be where I am not,
Here I am where I must be,
Go where I would, I can not,
Oh, diddle, lully day,
Oh, de little lioday.
When I first came to town,
They brought me the bottles plenty;
Now they've changed their tune,
They bring me the bottles empty,
Oh, diddle, lully day,
Oh, de little lioday.
Chorus
I know who I love,
And I know who does love me;
I know where I'm going,
And I know who's going with me,
Oh, diddle, lully day,
Oh, de little lioday.
Chorus
Through the woods I go,
And through the bogs and mire,
Straightway down the road,
And to my heart's desire,
Oh, diddle, lully day,
Oh, de little lioday.
Chorus
Eyes as bright as coal,
Lips as bright as cherry,
and 'tis her delight
To make the young girls merry,
Oh, diddle, lully day,
Oh, de little lioday.
Chorus
When I first came to town
They called me the roving jewel
Now they've changed their tune
They call me Katy Cruel
Oh, diddle, lully day,
Oh, de little lioday.
Tuesday, August 21, 2012
Biological origins of empathy
In one, scientists at the University of Chicago put two rats in an arena, one held by a restrainer, the other free. They found that the free rat learned to "intentionally and quickly open the restrainer and free the cagemate." They interpreted this result as "providing strong evidence for biological roots of empathically motivated helping behavior."
In the other case, Drs. Hollis and Nowbahari themselves did a very similar experiment with ants. They found that ants were prepared to rescue fellow ants held in a nylon snare and showing obvious distress. Just like the rats, the hero ants would chew at the restraints (though not if the victims were anesthetized or from different colonies or species). Happy to describe such behavior as "pro-social," they did not go so far as to attribute empathy to the ants. There was no reason to think that the hero ants were motivated by a wish to alleviate the suffering of the victims. More likely, they possessed a self-interested instinct to help get a co-worker back to work.
How does this differ from humans? Humans would probably behave in similar ways if we put them in similar situations, but is the psychological motivation different? Adam Smith seems to think so:
In his 1759 book the "Theory of the Moral Sentiments," philosopher Adam Smith argued that empathy (he called it sympathy) was motivated by the capacity to imagine being another person. "When I condole with you for the loss of your only son, in order to enter into your grief, I do not consider what I, a person of such a character and profession, should suffer, if I had a son, and if that son was unfortunately to die; but I consider what I should suffer if I was really you; and I not only change circumstances, but I change persons and characters. My grief, therefore, is entirely upon your account, and not in the least upon my own. It is not, therefore, in the least selfish."
The article concludes that either we think that rats are capable of this Smithian imagination (which the author concludes is absurd), or we assume that animals must have different motivations than humans. OR!!!! And this was what I was thinking this whole time, but the author finally admits at the end a big OR to this whole thing is that maybe humans don't have the psychological motivations that they think they do. Maybe the humans are doing things for the same reasons as the rats: "Can we be so sure it is fellow-feeling rather than instinct that drives us to our virtuous as well as our vicious actions?"
If we are really the empathy equivalent of rats, maybe we invented empathy to give ourselves a nice story. In other words, maybe humans give a positive spin on their "choices" after the fact, the same way they do with free will (or should I say, free won't). I feel like I just discovered the necessary plot device to make the Matrix IV relevant.
Monday, August 20, 2012
Lighter sentencing for genetic predispositions
The new experiment focused on sentencing by judges, not jury verdicts. It found that neurobiological evidence reduced judges’ sentences by an average of about 7 percent for a fictional defendant convicted of battery and identified as a psychopath.
In the study, three researchers at the University of Utah tracked down 181 state judges from 19 states who agreed to read a fictional case file and assign a sentence to an offender, “Jonathan Donahue,” convicted of beating a restaurant manager senseless with the butt of a gun. All of the judges learned in their files that Mr. Donahue had been identified as a psychopath based on a standard interview — that is, he had a history of aggressive acts without showing empathy.
The case files distributed to the judges were identical, except that half included testimony from a scientist described as “a neurobiologist and renowned expert on the causes of psychopathy,” who said that the defendant had inherited a gene linked to violent, aggressive behavior. This testimony described how the gene variant altered the development of brain areas that generate and manage emotion.
***
The judges who read this testimony gave Mr. Donahue sentences that ranged from one to 41 years in prison, a number that varied with state guidelines. But the average was 13 years — a full year less than the average sentence issued by the judges who had not seen the testimony about genetics and the brain.
***
“But then those who read about the biological mechanism subtracted a year, as if to say, ‘This guy is really dangerous and scary, and we should treat him as such, but the biological evidence suggests that we can’t hold him as responsible for the behavior,’ ” said James Tabery, an assistant professor of philosophy at Utah.
***
This mixed result — added punishment for the defendant’s being identified as a psychopath, tempered by empathy for his having a possible genetic predisposition — provides a good illustration of what legal researchers call the double-edged sword of biobehavioral evidence. On one hand, a biological predisposition suggests that a person is likely to be dangerous in the future and should get a longer sentence; on the other, it implies a lower threshold of responsibility. The evidence could cut either way, depending on the judge.
Sunday, August 19, 2012
Ordinary
I have encountered some truly extraordinary people recently, and that's got me thinking about what it means to be ordinary vs. extraordinary. I have always been successful at whatever I have done, and I've always had a healthy opinion of myself, but sometimes I wonder if I have somehow squandered my potential. I think most people do. I have a lot of talents that I feel could be used to do something extraordinary, if circumstances necessitated it. But I also don't really feel like carving out a piece of fame for myself just for the sake of carving out a piece of fame. If I was to achieve really great, fame worthy things, I think I would be more a Wellington responding to a Napoleon, not a Napoleon determined to alter the course of human history. I think I like day-to-day living too much to choose such a distinguished life. Perhaps the least sociopathic thing about me is that I really really like people. They fascinate me, they amuse me. I have frequently dedicated myself to some plan or another for a time, collecting little achievements as I go, but if I have aspired to anything beyond conquering these little obstacles of life, it is to be a sommelier of people. A gourmand of the human condition. I appreciate humanity, but I'm set apart. Or at least that's been my M.O. for the past decade or so. And for me to be as ensconced in humanity as I am requires concentration and dedication that doesn't allow for much else.
Still, the spectre of extraordinary haunts me, sneaking in in little ways. As I recently wrote a friend:
Still, the spectre of extraordinary haunts me, sneaking in in little ways. As I recently wrote a friend:
I need to pour my energies into more productive things and stop indulging myself all the time. I feel like emotionally I am frequently tempted into eating the equivalent of [fill in the blank food allergy]. I know it will make me sick, but I do it anyway because it is there and I don't want to deny myself anything. I don't know why, I have always been bad about saying no to things. I think I worry that otherwise life will pass me by. I have a friend who says things like, "everything we do changes us, we should be careful about what we do." I think you think the same way, like when you told me not to sic C on K. Maybe you thought it was wrong, but your strongest arguments for me were your concerns over how it would change me. Would I be like a shark who has acquired a taste for human blood? Would I eventually have to be put down? I don't want to trade self control for mere experiences. At least, I should be very careful whenever those are the terms of the exchange. I have a scarcity of self control as it is.I believe I have made the right decisions so far. I believe I have been correctly walking the fine line between doing things for experience, glory, fame, amusement or whatever, and not doing things because they will change me for the worse. But I understand the temptation of becoming extraordinary. I feel the allure daily. But I agree with this quote from a film about an extraordinary musician and her ordinary sister: "If you think that being an ordinary person is any easier than being an extraordinary one, you're wrong."
Saturday, August 18, 2012
Immune to insecurities
I was talking to my friend about this, because she often suggests that I am overly secure with myself. We had the following conversation:
M.E.: I think you're the one that's really made me realize that I am basically not insecure about anything
Friend: If anything you're oblivious
M.E.: Oblivious?
Friend: To others reactions or positions which in turn insulates you and makes you immune
Very insightful, I thought. I do seem to have the ability to be targetedly oblivious to things. I know in the abstract that there are people who hate or judge me, but I probably wouldn't be able to name specific people. Is this the origin of my confidence? Is it really because I don't care what people think, or that I think they're wrong, or maybe that I just am blind to others disapproval.
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