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Posts tagged ‘Srini Narayanan’

The Embodiment of Height: Why You Give More To Charity When You Are Elevated

Do you ever wonder why we associate good things with up and bad things with down? Think about it. We say that , “things are looking up today,” and “I’m down in the dumps,” to express how we are feeling. We say that “he’s at the peak of his career,” and “she fell is status,” to describe social hierarchies. And almost always heaven is up in the sky while hell is down in the Earth. The more you think about it, the more obvious it becomes. These examples are merely linguistic and mental, though. How do our conceptions of up and down affect us physically?

In a recent study, Lawrence Sanna et al studied how elevation influences people’s charitable donations. To do this, three research assistants posed as salvation army bell ringers, went to a local mall and placed their contribution buckets in three locations: at the top of an escalator (high-condition), at the bottom of an escalator (low-condition) and in an area away from escalators (control-condition). Unaware of what the study was testing, the research assistants rang bells for two thirty minute sessions as over a thousand “participants” passed by and donated. The results were as predicted. In the researchers words, “shoppers who rode the up escalator (high-condition) contributed more often than those who rode down (low-condition) and the control condition… In short, experiencing elevated physical height – in this case by riding up vs. down mall escalators – increased the virtuous act of making real charitable contributions.” They followed up this experiment with three more that demonstrated that elevation influences people to be more helpful, compassionate and cooperative (you can read about those here).

Sanna’s work is part of a growing body of literature that examines how elevation influences people. In a 2009 study, Pablo Brinol et al found that “the direction of thoughts (positive/negative) on self-related attitudes” depended on how participants sat. This means that participants tended to evaluate themselves more positive when they sat with an erect back and pushed their chest out as opposed to when they sat slouched forward with their back curved. Moreover, Daniel Casasanto and Katinka Dijkstra found that when participants moved marbles upward they retrieved positive memories faster than negative ones. And, conversely, when they moved marbles downward they retrieved negative memories faster than positive ones. This finding demonstrates that there is a casual link between motion and emotion. 

These studies are saying that we think of up as good and important and down as bad and not important. This seems obvious. But we forget that we were not born with up coupled with good/important and down coupled with bad/not important. So where did it come from?

One answer is grounded in the idea of the conceptual metaphor. Conceptual metaphors are “mappings across conceptual domains that structure our reasoning, our experience, and our everyday language.” In other words, metaphors constitute our physical and mental experience. Here’s an example I gave a few posts ago. When we say that something is over our heads to express the idea that we do not understand, we are drawing upon the physical inability to not see something over our heads and the mental feeling of uncertainty. According to Srini Narayanan, conceptual metaphors can be traced back to subjective judgments and primary experiences, and this is how we explain why we equate up with big and important (and the other way around): When we were young we found that “big things, e.g., parents, are important and can exert major forces on [us] and dominant [our] visual experience.” Over time, this relationship was reinforced and now it comes naturally to us, as if it was there all along.

Another, more general answer, is that the mind is embodied. This point, which I also made a few posts ago, means that our mental experiences are not confined to that lump of flesh between our ears. As I said then, the embodied mind, or embodied cognition holds that the nature of the brain is largely determined by the physical form of the human body. Experience, therefore, is not just an, “epiphenomenal side issue, but central to any understanding of the mind.” This is why our experience with big and important things is tied with up and small and unimportant things is tied with down.

So the takeaway isn’t just a nifty charity strategy, it is the simple lesson that your mental life is constituted by your physical experience; you are not your brain, in other words.

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Exercising our Words: Stop Thinking Like Plato!

Words are remarkably flexible: You can press play, be in a play, play on a playground, draw up a play, play ball, and play a musical instrument; feathers are light, weights are as light as a feather, the sun is light, there are flashlights and lighters, and people say ‘let there be light,’ and ‘lights out.’ Yet, their malleability usually surprises us; we tend to think of them as having fixed definitions even though they are highly dispensable. 

For Plato, this was a big problem. He wanted to know how two different things could be referred to as the same thing – what philosophers call the problem of universals. For example, there are millions of different tables in the world, yet we all refer to them as the same thing – tables. How can this be? Plato’s answer is simple; all tables share an essence, a sort of blueprint of perfection that they derive their likeness from. Plato called this essence a Form, and there is one unique to everything – mountains, humans, green, love, etc.

We tend to think and speak like this. We say that a song is Beatles-esque, or the universe has a one-ness, or he looks fifty-ish to suggest that qualities are transcendent and objective i.e., the sound of Beatles music. But the theory of Forms has its far share of critics who reject the notion of ideals or essences. As the Diogenes of Sinope said, “I’ve seen Plato’s cups and tables, but not his cupness and tableness.” The video piggybacks off of this idea by showing that we define and understood things through their relationships and not through unique intrinsic “ness” qualities.

Let’s look at language closely to see if this is true. Consider, for example, all the ways the word “idea” is used.

  • It can be a building – your idea needs more support, that is a shaky idea, your idea has no foundation.
  • It can be food – what he said left a bad taste in my mouth, there are too many facts here for me to digest, that idea smells fishy.
  • It can be a person – the theory of relativity gave birth to an enormous amount of ideas in physics, he is the father of modern biology, those ideas died off in the Middle Ages.
  • It can be money – let me put in my two cent’s worth, he’s rich in ideas (Lakoff & Johnson, 1979).

The applicability of “idea,” combined with what the video illustrated, suggests that Plato was wrong to think that everything had a definitive intrinsic essence. The reality is that language is highly connected and defined by itself. In this light, I think Nietzsche was right on the mark when he asserted that truth was nothing more than a “mobile army of metaphors, metonyms, and anthropomorphisms.”

Contemporary linguistics has confirmed Nietzsche’s aphorism. In the seminal book Metaphors We Live By, George Lakoff and Mark Johnson argue that, “our normal conceptual system is metaphorically structured; that is, most concepts are partially understood in terms of other concepts” (56). Take the Argument is War metaphor as an example.

  • Your claims are indefensible
  • He attacked every weak point in my argument
  • His criticisms were right on target
  • I demolished his argument
  • I’ver never won an argument with him
  • You disagree? Okay, shoot!
  • If you use that strategy, he’ll wipe you out
  • He shot down all of my arguments

The key point here, and this is what Lakoff and Johnson really stress, is that we “don’t just talk about arguments in terms of war…. we can actually win or lose arguments” (3). This is what they mean when they say that we “live by” metaphors; more than just literary devices, they are mental mechanisms that help us understand other subjects and the world.

Why do we think and speaking so metaphorically? And why is language so connected? Here are two explanations, one from linguistics and the other from neuroscience, which may be helpful. The linguistic explanation comes from cognitive science Srini Narayanan, who argues that metaphoric language comes from physical interactions during the first several years of life. For example, have you even noticed your overwhelming tendency to equate warmth with affection. We say that:

  • She has a warm touch
  • He held me warmly
  • I received a warm greeting
  • They are warm people

This tendency comes from experiences when feeling physically warm (i.e., being held by your mother) correlated with feeling loved (i.e., your mother keeping you safe). Maybe this sounds obvious, but that’s the point. Warmth and affection are so connected that we forget that they were not wired in at birth, they were learned.

The second answer comes from neuroscientist V.S. Ramachandran, who suggests that language is so layered and connected because we all have mild forms of synesthesia (synesthesia is the “neurologically-based condition in which stimulation of one sensory or cognitive pathway leads to automatic, involuntary experiences in a second sensory or cognitive pathway.” Common conditions for synesthetes are “seeing” colors in numbers and letters, and perceiving days of the week as having personalities). Let’s test his theory out. Look at the two images below and ask yourself this question: Which is Bouba and which is Kiki?

If you are like 98% percent of people, you will say that Bouba is on the left and Kiki is on the right. Rama explains that this seems so obvious to us because “nonarbitrary correspondence between the visual shape of an object and the sound that might be its partner… may be hardwired” (172) This would explain why non-English speakers also “see” Bouba on the left and Kiki on the right. It also suggests, as Rama hypothesizes, that there is significant “cross-activation between brain maps for sights and sounds” (174).

Taking both Narayanan and Rama’s explanation together, it seems that the highly metaphoric and interconnect nature of language comes from both innate and learned mechanisms. As Narayanan pointed out, physical interaction during our early years led us to equate warmth and affection. But Rama reminds us that innate processes are necessary for us to abstractly apply words or phrases to objects or actions.

So we have a decent starting point, but a long way to go. We know that Plato was wrong to say that words have intrinsic definitions. But until we know more about language, we will still wonder why there is no egg in eggplant, ham in hamburger, apple nor pine in pineapple; why teachers taught but preachers don’t praught; and why your house can burn up as it burns down.

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