Losing Our Humanity — Saving Humanity: Part 2

How We Are Disconnecting from Ourselves, Others, and the World in Which We Live

Part 2 — Patterns of Cognition

by Jeff Bloom

Over the past several decades, cognitive psychologists formulated a number of theoretical frameworks about the nature and dynamics of human cognition. Most of these theories arose from the lineages of positivism, reductionism, and mechanism, which stand in stark contrast to the views of the complexity sciences. If you’re not familiar with the complexity sciences, they can be described, for the most part, as ways of investigating and explaining living systems as self-organizing, self-maintaining, self-transcending systems. Complexity may look at the parts of systems, but the parts are not isolated pieces of the whole. In addition, understanding all of the parts of a system, does not provide a complete understanding of the whole system. From this perspective, all of the parts of the system are intertwined and interdependent upon all of the other parts. So, if we look at our own bodies, each subsystem or part (circulatory system with the heart, arteries, veins, and capillaries; nervous system with brain, spinal cord, and various nerve cells with their own parts; digestive system with mouth-teeth-tongue, esophagus, stomach, small intestines, colon, various enzyme producing glands and cells, gall bladders, etc,) are all deeply interdependent upon one another. We can’t remove one system and still survive, although in some cases we have found ways to maintain life with artificial assistance in a limited number of situations. What is absolutely amazing is how such multi-system systems can repair damaged tissues, adjust to radically different conditions, fight off diseases, and reproduce very similar and viable offspring, as well as learn and think in ways that benefit survival. And, this learning and thinking is a major aspect of this notion of self-transcendence. All of us are more than our physical bodies. We have distinctive personalities. We have learned things that may be similar to what others have learned, but that learning is also unique to how we have learned, which has been influenced by our specific experiences, interests, and so forth.

In addition, living systems don’t operate like mechanical systems. Although our muscles and bones function on certain mechanical principles and resemble some simple machines, they go way beyond the capabilities of mechanistic systems. Many of our bones also produce blood cells, and they generally have multiple functions, such as protection of other organs, providing for both rigidity and flexibility, for communication and meta-communication, etc. They also provide multiple backup systems. If one muscle or muscle group is injured, other muscles can provide the movement lost by the injured muscles. I tore, or rather my Doberman pinscher accidentally tore, my rotator cuff. I could still move my arm in all the ways that the muscles in the cuff provided, along with a dose of pain. I could have survived quite well without the function of the muscles in the rotator cuff, although surgery provided for a return to full normal functionality.

Positivism asserts the ability to be objective and to the existence of objective truths. This sounds nice, but we’re human beings. Human, and for that matter all living things, are by their very nature subjective. We can try to be as objective as possible, but that only goes so far. From the moment of perception of some outside “thing” or even some internal thought or sensation, we automatically and unconsciously pile on emotional reactions, personal interpretive frameworks, values, and so forth that have been developed over time and experience, as well as idiosyncratic beliefs, socially-shared beliefs, and biases galore. We really have no control over the processes at this level of cognition. We can, however, put a check on conscious level biases, emotions, beliefs, etc., which was more than likely what Descartes and his “influenc-ees” thought was how they could be objective. By contrast, the view of complexity is one that not only realizes that we cannot be objective, but that living systems themselves are subjective.

I’m sorry that I dove into this somewhat academic description of the contexts of complexity and the history that existed before complexity was “re-invented.” What is interesting about the emergence of the complexity sciences in the 1940’s and 1950’s, in the context of cybernetics, was that such views and understandings have existed for millennia. The aboriginals of Australia, Africa, and North and South America, as well as South and Southeast Asians, had been thinking and philosophizing in ways that were essentially the same. I suppose the truth is the truth no matter when it was pondered.

Much of what cognitive psychologists did as a result of their research and theorizing was to divide and isolate individual processes. Each process was seen as a separate disconnected entity. Each process took place in isolation from other processes. And, to varying degrees, each process was described mechanistically. Many of these theories used computers as the fundamental analog or metaphor for human cognition. But, computers are fundamentally mechanistic systems. Computers operate on algorithms or formulas that reduce everything to simple cause and effect processes. Given that computers operate on a binary, on/off system, it was an easy connection to the linear cause and effect thinking that has been deeply embedded in Western thinking since the time of Descartes, and soon after that it became embedded in most of the rest of the world. Even with the development of so-called artificial intelligence, the operations of the computers are still simple, linear (or linearly parallel), binary, cause and effect algorithms.

The attraction of positivistic, reductionistic, and mechanistic approaches to describing our world is that they package everything in a neat and tidy manner. They allow us to “believe” that we can predict what’s going to happen in different situations, and that we can simplify everything to a relatively small set of absolute truths. In addition, the whole set of these approaches portrays the world as a kind of cold, desolate, and lifeless place. Any “real” life is in the domain of humans. But, even then, humans are still viewed as some sort of lifeless, self-reproducing bot or automaton. We can control humans with propaganda; with strong emotions, especially hate; with simple repetition of falsities. And, we certainly are getting hit in the face with this mechanistic, manipulative approach to dealing with humanity. And, this is the epitome of dehumanization… it’s the ultimate disconnect.

I don’t know about any of you, but my world and my experiences certainly don’t align with such a view. My world certainly doesn’t have a small, or any size, set of absolute truths, at least not in the realm of everyday life experiences. I might say that whole shebang is rather illusory. I feel reasonably confident in that particular view as an absolute truth, but it certainly doesn’t make me feel any more comfortable or secure. But, it also doesn’t frighten or depress me. In fact, once I came to realize that the world, or I should say, my world, became much more spacious. Yes, life still gets crazy and stressful, but it’s not quite as intense as before I came to this realization. Beyond this “absolute-ish” truth, everything else lies along some continuum of relative truths, with one edge diving over the cliff into psychosis or some similar state of psychological dysfunction. For me, this continuum of relative truths is comforting. I know that I may look at a tree or a dog, take photos and show them to other people, and most other people will see a tree or a dog. However, what we see is almost certainly not the same. My tree and my dog are loaded with all sorts of emotions, memories of previous experiences, and a wide variety of relatively accurate and relatively inaccurate concepts and other information. But, we agree enough that the tree is a tree and the dog is a dog, From that point, we can communicate with a common basis of understanding.

From a complexity perspective, cognition is not algorithmic. The interesting twist is that non-algorithmic, complex systems — i.e., humans — have created algorithms. This is an interesting situation. We seem to confuse the product — algorithm — with the producer — non-algorithmic. This is almost paradoxical, but not quite. However, it seems to be a common pattern of confusing what we produce with who we are. The earlier version from Descartes and Newton was a human—machine attribution. It’s almost as if we think that because we invented machines or computers, we are machines or computers ourselves. Maybe it’s a case of delusional wishful thinking or just not really thinking it through carefully enough. And, this same sort of delusional thinking seems to be a major part of Ray Kurzweil’s “singularity.” Although that connection between humans and computers is happening, I don’t think it’s going to turn out very well for humanity. I have the same feeling about much of AI. We’ve just jumped off a cliff, and I don’t think the landing is going to be soft.

Although I’ve been portraying the work of cognitive scientists, some of whom are part of the AI and singularity work, in rather negative terms, but I don’t want to throw away all of the work done by cognitive psychologists. Their work has been insightful and useful, but the work is not the whole picture. One of the major core processes of our thinking is categorization. And, yes, we certainly do categorize just about everything. We also memorize things, which is likely a subset of remembering. We also calibrate and make adjustments to our actions and relationships. We are also pattern thinkers, who can recognize, analyze, and create patterns. We also create abstractions at various levels. We immediately create an abstraction after perceiving some “thing.” The thing we perceive is not the “thing” in our head. We see some thing, a tree or a dog, then, since we can’t put that tree or dog in our head we create an abstraction of it in whatever form is used to put into our memory. It’s an abstraction of the actual thing.[1] We perceive, create, and elaborate relationships between different ideas, including between people. We also have the capability of creating extensive cognitive contexts with associated ideas and groups of ideas. We also can make all sort of inferences. At an almost subconscious level, we create scripts, which are automated shortcuts for negotiating various situations from driving a car to going to a supermarket, as well as how we talk and what we say in various contexts. All of these “individual” processes are aspects of our cognition, as are our emotional reactions, aesthetic reactions, personal values, beliefs, humor, fantasies, and so forth.

None of these aspects of cognition operate in isolation. As with any complex living system, they are intertwined and interdependent. In our experiences of our own thinking, or, if you’re a teacher, our experiences of our students’ thinking, we do not, and probably should not, divide up and isolate specific cognitive processes. Our cognitive systems just don’t operate that way.

From the previous discussion, you may see how our desire for simplicity and predictability has led to a disconnection with the warmth, variability, unpredictability, and frequent dissonance that characterize our everyday lives. The science of Descartes and Newton, most religions, and other belief frameworks have and continue to have the effect of providing some version of a simpler and more predictable view of the world. And, here lies, for better or worse, a fundamental disconnect. At this point, we have to consider a core disconnect that arises from some key aspects of our cognition. I mentioned earlier that we automatically attach emotions to our perceptions. These emotions, in a general sense, may involve (a) those that involve some sort of favorable attraction to a particular perception, (b) those that are repulsed by and may engender some sort of aggression towards a perception, or (c) those that are involved with some sort of neutral or intentional ignoring of the perception. All sorts of more specific emotions may be involved, but they are usually a spin-off from or fusion of these core emotional patterns, which also can be viewed simply as like, dislike, and blah.

I left out fear, which seems to manifest at different levels. There’s the fear that arises in some people when the see a spider or are about to be poked by a needle. There’s the fear that arises from some surprise event, like someone jumping out and scaring you… something I, as a child, did all too much of to my much older sister. She knew it was coming, but never knew when or where, which is much like the experience of knowingly watching a horror movie. You know something is coming, but you still jump and scream when it happens. Or, we might experience fear that even turns into panic, which may happen when faced with the possibility of death. This sort of fear seems to be a bit deeper and more at a primal level. Getting an MRI scan when you’re claustrophobic or have some sort of fear of losing control (I think this fear of losing control is my particular “favorite”) can result in a panic attack. Again, this sort of reaction is not rationally controllable. You go into the MRI tube and a psychological button is pushed. Your pulse sky-rockets, heart pounds, you start sweating, and feel like you can’t breathe. No amount of talking or rationalizing about it works to alleviate the panic attack. It’s an automatic reaction. But, it also isn’t necessarily a solid and predictable consequence of being pushed into the MRI machine. You might not have that kind of reaction one time, then the next you do, and maybe several times later you don’t have that reaction. However, the point is that there are different levels of fear. And, what may be the most primal of all is a fundamental fear of death, of losing our ground, that isn’t even close to being a conscious and describable fear. But, it seems to underlie our lives. We cover up this ultimate of uncertainties with all sorts of cognitive strategies, including those three core emotions.

Early Buddhist “psychologists,” from over 2,000 years ago onward, described much of this psychological dynamic as six different clusters of thinking patterns that attempt to provide some sense of solidity and predictability to our experiences. These patterns are referred to as the six skandhas (or heaps) that give rise to the Buddhist version of “ego,” which is basically just a heap of cognitive patterns of thinking that give us the illusion of a solidified sense of self and of the outside world[2]. And, they didn’t tippy-toe around the implications of losing that sense of solidity. It can be quite frightening. We get glimpses of that lack of solidity when we come face to face with death, which could be some sort of psychological death, such as when we lose a friend, when an intense romantic relationship falls apart, when we’re fired from a job, as well as being in situation where death could be in the cards, such as drowning or about to be in a bad accident. These patterns of cognition that help to create a sense of solidity can go beyond the fundamental view of a self and an other. They can be involved in all sorts of solidifications, which can be called justifications for hating someone, rationalizations for why you can treat someone badly, or creating a view of how wonderful you are and how screwed up everyone else is. The combinations of emotions and these patterns of solidification can create a sort of primal disconnect not only with others, but to our worlds, other living things, and even ourselves. At a certain point, we lose sight of our own humanity, our own vulnerability, and so on. Some people become so solidified there are no cracks, no connections with the others, no connections to the world around them, and no real connection with themselves. My assumption here is that such a state is deeply pathological, where such people are living in a world completely disconnected from any semblance of relative reality. There are quite a few prominent examples of such people in the news now in 2024. They all reside somewhere along that solidified part of the continuum that dips into the pathological rabbit holes. Fortunately, most of us live somewhere along the continuum where there are lots of cracks and holes, warmth and empathy, laughter and sorrow, and pain and pleasure. We can love and be loved. When the solidification becomes extreme, we lose all of this. I can only imagine that people living in such a solidified world are in a state of continuous pain of one sort or another. They have to be on guard and defensive all of the time. They can never let up, even as things crack around them. It’s like standing on ice over a lake, when you hear the ice start to moan and groan and crackle. You realize the solid world around you is crumbling and there not much you can do about it. I had that happen to me as a kid on real ice. Fortunately, the water was only about two feet deep. But, the sensation was memorable. I was on my way to the dentist and thought a short-cut was a great idea. By the time I got home to change into dry clothes, my mother already had them ready for me. She watched the whole thing… and didn’t warn me! But, that was her sense of humor. Maybe, that sort of thing is what is really needed for people who have gone too far on the solidification front. Maybe falling through the cracking ice and facing the reality of the situation could be a wake-up call, but then again, maybe not. It’s just sad to see the crumbling, and especially for all of the people who fall through the ice with the person they’re supporting.

For most of us, tamping down some of these solidifying, disconnecting processes can be addressed from a variety of approaches and relatively simple activities. You don’t have to become a Buddhist or do mindfulness meditation, which is being sold like a cure-all for just about the opposite of what it was intended to do. In fact, this meditation practice can be dangerous in terms of actually building up further solidification. And, it isn’t for everyone. Some people should never do this meditation practice. In its explosion into the marketplace mindfulness has lost its essential core teachings, which is really about dislodging from the Buddhist sense of ego, of jumping into the groundlessness. Without those teachings, the practice can serve to boost one’s comforts and ego solidifications which isn’t what it’s supposed to do.

However, there are things we all can do, whether we’re Christians, Jews, Muslims, B’hai’s, Mormons, atheists or non-theists, or whatever. Here’s a brief synopsis of some possibilities in list form.

• Don’t believe everything you think — I’ve put this little sign on a bulletin next to my desk to remind me not to take my thoughts too seriously, especially those thoughts that justify, solidify a position, or are too emotionally loaded.

• Take a little bit of time during your day to practice empathy — This can be anywhere and can even be done while on the run, catching a subway, train, bus, or behind the wheel of your car, but be careful not to get too caught up in the process while driving. You might see a homeless person, a person at work who really irritates you, someone from a completely different social or ethnic context, or someone with a severe disability of some sort. Pick a person, then try to imagine what it would be like if you were in that body with that mind and whatever else. You could flip it a bit and think about you being in the same social, economic, ethnic, and personal situation. What would you feel? What couldn’t you do? What could you do? This a sort of contemplation process. There are no real “rules,” just spend some time pondering life as a different person. The more juicy and emotional details, the better. And, this can be done in flashes …. a few seconds when you encounter someone … or it could be done for 5, 10, 15 minutes, whatever works for you.

• In a similar fashion to the last point, try to connect with other people’s humanity when meeting and talking with others.
  The other day I was buying food to take out for my chronically-ill, disabled son, when another customer cam over to where I was sitting and started up a conversation. I can’t remember what it was about, but I could feel my guardedness coming up. I really don’t like it when that happens. And, I always have to slap myself (metaphorically) to wake up, relax, and open up. I suspect that person, who had a different ethnic background from me, may have been somewhere along the Asberger’s continuum. He was a bit awkward in talking, but really wanted to interact. He was actually very sweet and had some interesting perceptions. I just wish I could remember the details. After a few minutes, he returned to his seat. When I left, I made sure to say goodbye and wish him the best. But, I really wish I didn’t have to struggle with my own guardedness. However, it always good to notice these tendencies and make attempts to not let them take over. These tendencies are just thoughts that disconnect. They don’t own me, and I don’t own them. I just can’t believe everything that I think.

• We need to take some time to just be in situations. We need to put away our smartphones and just be in whatever place we happened to be. When I was doing my undergraduate work, I have lots of photos I took of people sitting around campus in small to rather sizable groups talking with one another. Sometimes one person in the crowd would be playing a guitar. At other times, someone would be reading and talking to others about what they were reading. And, the reading was usually not “assigned” readings. In fact, there was a constant stream of “underground” readings being shared amongst us. Although occasionally, faculty would drop in on the conversations and talk about the same books. — In my years teaching at the university level, even before smartphones made their debut, I really never saw very many students sitting and talking in groups. And, once smartphones came into play, that whole dynamic disappeared entirely. — Smartphones are a new tool for the solidifying and disconnecting processes. We can live in an electronic world and never shake someone’s hand, never smile and wink at someone else sitting or standing nearby. It’t the dream-tool of disconnection. We don’t need to fill in all the empty spaces in our lives. We can just sit, walk, drive, etc. and be aware of what’s going on around us. We can strike up conversations or just say “hi” with a smile.

• We can invite people to just meet and talk. We can talk about anything, but if it’s a group of people who you don’t know that well, or that we know all too well and don’t really care for some of the beliefs or attitudes people (families are often included in this category), it may be wise to avoid talking about religion, politics, or any of the array of hot issues that exist at the moment. This avoidance of topics was one that my parents often mentioned when getting together with other extended family members or friends. Just find some common ground of our shared humanity. Talk about golf if people play that game. Talk about other sports, movies, or TV shows. Talk about experiences we’ve had. As people begin to feel more comfortable with one another, maybe opportunities arise where you can talk about the previously “banned” topics without building walls, getting angry, etc. If you screw it up, and things collapse, spend some time thinking about what it collapsed and how it could be done more skillfully. But, keep trying.
  Families are often challenging. I could hardly ever have reasonable conversations with my sister from when I was in high school until her death. She was always pushing her beliefs and views of the world. There was very little space to just chat and connect, even though she was like a second mother to me as a child. She was 18 years older than me. My brother (who was 16 years older than me) started out as someone with whom I could talk about almost anything. We could disagree and still converse. But, as he aged, something started to change. He became more and more solidified in his opinions and beliefs. I then had to change the subject whenever he started to veer into politics or religion. And, in the midst of this change and as a stark symbol of his transitioning, he “dis-owned” his younger son, when his sone opened up that he was gay. On the up side, I think they made amends when his gay son spent time with him on his death-bed. Re-connecting, even at the end of life, is always a good thing.

• In my article, "Untimely Death of Integrity," I mentioned Nora Bateson’s Warm Data Labs (in-person) or People Need People (online) are great opportunities to interact with other people in ways that promote connecting with others in meaningful and open conversations that explore various aspects of our shared humanity.[3]

• Connecting with others, as in the previous points, is relatively easy compared to re-connecting to ourselves. We tend to suppress things we don’t want to think or talk about and then focus on those things we want to display as our “good” qualities. This where meditation practices really slap us in the face (again metaphorically). Mediation can be rather ruthless in this regard. When we sit and face the deluge of almost continuous thoughts that come up and replay like a 1/2 star movie you’ve watched a zillion times, it can get quite uncomfortable. But, it’s all about just letting go, and not getting tied up in the story-lines that fill in all of the gaps and provide a sense of solidity. However, even without a formal meditation practice, we can still just let go from time to time. You can walk through your home or down a street, not listen to music, and just try to focus for a few moments on the smells, sensation on your skin, on the sounds surrounding you and in the distance, and on what we see in front of us and in the panorama of our peripheral vision. You can do this while driving, although do put most of your attention on where you’re going and what happening with the vehicles around you. You don’t want to end up in a wreck while appreciating the scenery. Just remember to be kind to yourself. When ugly thoughts arise, just notice them, let go, and smell, feel, and see the world around you. Give yourself some space and try to laugh or least chuckle at the absurdities that can arise.

Best wishes for all in our journeys of re-connecting!

NOTES

[1] Alfred Korzybski (1948) made the point that there are no “things” in our cognition. Everything we think about is at some level of abstraction. He coined the phrase “the map [our ideas of things] is not the territory [the real world outside of our brain or mind].” Gregory Bateson (1972/2000, 1979/2002, 1991) used the map is not the territory idea as part of his description of mind, which was also a description of how nature works.

[2] The skandhas and other patterns of cognition have been discussed by numerous Buddhist scholars in Asia and North America, as well as Western psychologists, including Nārada Mahā Thera (1956/1979), Nyanatiloks Mahathera (1971), Barry Magid (2002), and Chögyam Trungpa (1987). [I assume “Maha Thera” and “Mahathera” are honorific titles and not the “last names” of these authors. Trungpa’s honorific title often included with his name was Rinpoche. Buddhist names can be confusing in that Buddhist practitioners are given Buddhist names at different stages along the path of practice. Some western Buddhist adopt these names legally, while others don’t, but refer to them as reminders of their connection to the practice of meditation.]

[3] Nora Bateson notion of “warm data” can be explored further in her articles (2017, 2019) and books (2016, 2023). You can also explore this topic on these websites: Warm Data dot Life, Warm Data on the International Bateson Institute website, and Warm Data Lab dot Org.

REFERENCES

Bateson, G. (1972/2000). Steps to an ecology of mind. University of Chicago Press.

Bateson, G. (1979/2002). Mind and nature: A necessary unity. Hampton Press.

Bateson, G. (1991). Sacred unity: Further steps to an ecology of mind (R. E. Donaldson, Ed.). A Cornelia & Michael Bessie Book/Harper Collins.

Bateson, N. (2016). Small Arcs of Larger Circles: Framing Through Other Patterns. Axminster, UK: Triarchy Press.

Bateson, N. (2017, May 18). Warm Data: Contextual research and new forms of information. Hacker Noon, 17.

Bateson, N. (2019, February 4). The Salt in the Broth, Warm Data and Systems Change. Transform.

Bateson, N. (2023). Combining (First edition). Axminster, UK: Triarchy Press.

Korzybski, A. (1948). Selections from science and sanity: An introduction to non-Aristotelian systems and general semantics (2nd ed.). Fort Worth, TX: Institute of General Semantics.

Magid, B. (2002). Ordinary mind: Exploring the common ground of Zen and psychotherapy. Boston, MA: Wisdom Publications.

Nārada. (1956/1979). A manual of abhidhamma being abhidhammattha sangha of Bhadanta Anuruddhācariya. Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia: Buddhist Missionary Society.

Nyanatiloks. (1971) Guide through the Abhidhamma-piṭaka being a synopsis of the philosophical collection belonging to the Buddhist Pali Canon. Kandy, Ceylon: Buddhist Publication Society.

Trungpa, C. (1987). Cutting through spiritual materialism. Boston, MA: Shambhala  Publications.

© 2024 by Jeffrey W Bloom