Complexity Theory and Who You Are

~ Contributed by Tim Burke

It’s been said that complexity theory is the third big scientific discipline after relativity and quantum mechanics. Like them, a new technology (in this case the computer) revealed to us a universe we didn’t know existed – basically, what the world would look like to us if we weren’t so cognitively limited and therefore could take in massive amounts of data and process it with the computational power of massively-parallel supercomputers. In short, what we find is patterns in what we thought was chaos; and simplicity at the core of what seems to us to be possible only through design:

....and the thousands off fishes moved as a huge beast, piercing the water. They appeared united, inexorably

bound to a common fate. How comes this unity?" --Anonymous, 17th century (from Shaw)

Well, that other new science upsetting our understanding of the world is cognitive-neuroscience. If complexity shows us what the world would look like to us if we were capable of unbounded rationality, cognitive-neuroscience shows us how far we are from anything like unbounded rationality. And once again, it is computers, in the guise of Functional MRI (fMRI) equipment which measures signal changes in the brain that are due to changing neural activity. Add to this the development of network theory (as an outcome of investigating massive networks like the internet, though the brain is many time larger and more complex) and you see why our brains function as irrationally and limitedly as they do. What we’ve learned is the brain is closer to that of a flock of birds with its self-organizing emergent behavior than that of a logically designed and algorithmically controlled computer.

These two new sciences, not possible before the advent of powerful computers, have understandably had many philosophical and sociopolitical ramifications as a result of the need to rewrite much of what we thought we knew about the universe, ourselves, and our social constructs. We now have a better understanding of human nature and its limits. This means that ideologies based on computer-like rationality – e.g., the extremes of utopian Marxism and utility-maximizing Libertarianism which respectively depend on human rationality at the macro or micro-levels – are tossed into the philosophical dustbin.

Much of the academic work stemming from these new sciences is rather technical and remote from the day-to-day lives of most of us. But below is David Brooks’s recognition of one of the leaders of that sliver of cognitive-neuroscience that relates directly to everyone’s understanding the world we live in – from today’s political and economic headlines to managing your finances and investments – behavioral economics:

OP-ED COLUMNIST

Who You Are

By DAVID BROOKS

Published: October 20, 2011

Daniel Kahneman spent part of his childhood in Nazi-occupied Paris. Like the other Jews, he had to wear a Star of David on the outside of his clothing. One evening, when he was about 7 years old, he stayed late at a friend’s house, past the 6 p.m. curfew.

He turned his sweater inside out to hide the star and tried to sneak home. A German SS trooper approached him on the street, picked him up and gave him a long, emotional hug. The soldier displayed a photo of his own son, spoke passionately about how much he missed him and gave Kahneman some money as a sentimental present. The whole time Kahneman was terrified that the SS trooper might notice the yellow star peeking out from inside his sweater.

Kahneman finally made it home, convinced that people are complicated and bizarre. He went on to become one of the world’s most influential psychologists and to win the Nobel in economic science.

Kahneman doesn’t actually tell that childhood story in his forthcoming book. “Thinking, Fast and Slow” is an intellectual memoir, not a personal one. The book is, nonetheless, sure to be a major intellectual event (look foran excerpt in The Times Magazine this Sunday) because it superbly encapsulates Kahneman’s research, and the vast tide of work that has been sparked by it.

I’d like to use this column not to summarize the book but to describe why I think Kahneman and his research partner, the late Amos Tversky, will be remembered hundreds of years from now, and how their work helped instigate a cultural shift that is already producing astounding results.

Before Kahneman and Tversky, people who thought about social problems and human behavior tended to assume that we are mostly rational agents. They assumed that people have control over the most important parts of their own thinking. They assumed that people are basically sensible utility-maximizers and that when they depart from reason it’s because some passion like fear or love has distorted their judgment.

Kahneman and Tversky conducted experiments. They proved that actual human behavior often deviates from the old models and that the flaws are not just in the passions but in the machinery of cognition. They demonstrated that people rely on unconscious biases and rules of thumb to navigate the world, for good and ill. Many of these biases have become famous: priming, framing, loss-aversion.

Kahneman reports on some delightful recent illustrations from other researchers. Pro golfers putt more accurately from all distances when putting for par than when putting for birdie because they fear the bogie more than they desire the birdie. Israeli parole boards grant parole to about 35 percent of the prisoners they see, except when they hear a case in the hour just after mealtime. In those cases, they grant parole 65 percent of the time. Shoppers will buy many more cans of soup if you put a sign atop the display that reads “Limit 12 per customer.”

Kahneman and Tversky were not given to broad claims. But the work they and others did led to the reappreciation of several old big ideas:

We are dual process thinkers. We have two interrelated systems running in our heads. One is slow, deliberate and arduous (our conscious reasoning). The other is fast, associative, automatic and supple (our unconscious pattern recognition). There is now a complex debate over the relative strengths and weaknesses of these two systems. In popular terms, think of it as the debate between “Moneyball” (look at the data) and “Blink” (go with your intuition).

We are not blank slates. All humans seem to share similar sets of biases. There is such a thing as universal human nature. The trick is to understand the universals and how tightly or loosely they tie us down.

We are players in a game we don’t understand. Most of our own thinking is below awareness. Fifty years ago, people may have assumed we are captains of our own ships, but, in fact, our behavior is often aroused by context in ways we can’t see. Our biases frequently cause us to want the wrong things. Our perceptions and memories are slippery, especially about our own mental states. Our free will is bounded. We have much less control over ourselves than we thought.

This research yielded a different vision of human nature and a different set of debates. The work of Kahneman and Tversky was a crucial pivot point in the way we see ourselves.

They also figured out ways to navigate around our shortcomings. Kahneman champions the idea of “adversarial collaboration” — when studying something, work with people you disagree with. Tversky had a wise maxim: “Let us take what the terrain gives.” Don’t overreach. Understand what your circumstances are offering.

Many people are exploring the inner wilderness. Kahneman and Tversky are like the Lewis and Clark of the mind.

And while that inner wilderness is being explored by cognitive-neuroscientists, there’s another frontier through which trails are being blazed by physicists:

“Eighty percent or so of research physicists do not classify themselves as cosmic or elementary particle physicists and are not much concerned with testing the fundamental laws. Admittedly, some portion of this 80% are concerned with applications of physics to various practical problems, as for example prospecting geophysicists or electronic device designers. But another large fraction are engaged in an entirely different type of fundamental research: research into phenomena that are too complex to be analyzed straightforwardly by simple application of the fundamental laws. These physicists are working at another frontier between the mysterious and the understood: the frontier of complexity.

Strange Attractor

At this frontier, the watchword is not reductionism but emergence. Emergent complex phenomena are by no means in violation of the microscopic laws, but they do not appear as logically consequent on these laws.” ~ Philip W. Anderson, “Physics: The Opening to Complexity”

And in the middle is the level of culture and political philosophy. For instance, a reappraisal of the usefulness of Ideal Theory*, specifically as found in John Rawls’s A Theory of Justice) in the face of these realities (Colin Farrelly - http://colinfarrelly.blogspot.com/2009/11/egalitarianism-and-idealnon-ideal.html):

Suppose one considers oneself an "egalitarian". And by that I mean one who believes in distributive equality (rather than moral or political equality). And this egalitarian also has philosophical inclinations, and thus they wish to undertake the project of developing an egalitarian theory of distributive justice.

How does one go about developing such a theory? Where should one start?

One might start at the level of “ideal theory”. That is, one could begin by pondering what they think the ideal society would look like (i.e. one where everyone is equal!), and then derive some egalitarian prescriptions from that exercise (i.e. inequalities shouldn’t be tolerated).

Alternatively, one could start at the level of “non-ideal theory”. In other words, one could begin by pondering what actually  causes different kinds of inequality in the real world and what has, and what might prove to be, effective ways of fairly and efficiently mitigating such inequalities.

A significant bulk of the ink spilled in political philosophy over the past few decades has taken up the first project. And a central impetus for this has been John Rawls’s theory of distributive justice, in particular Rawls’s famous  difference principle- which permits socio-economic inequalities provided they are arranged to the greatest benefit of the least advantaged.

Two of the most prominent debates egalitarian philosophers have had of late concern the questions (1) Equality of What? (resources, welfare, opportunities for welfare, capabilities, etc.?), and (2) what is the scope of egalitarian principles (e.g. do they only apply to institutions, or do they also apply to the individual decisions we make in daily life?).

Rather than starting one’s quest for an egalitarian theory of justice with the remnants of an academic debate about a book published over 40 years ago, I would encourage the next generation of egalitarians to start at the level of non-ideal theory. This would involve, as I outlined here, developing 3 different skills.

1) Ascertaining how we got to where we are and understanding why things are this way.
2) Deliberating about the kind of world we want to have.
3) Judging how far, and through what actions, and at what risk, we can realistically hope to move this world as it now stands towards the way we might excusably wish it to be. (Dunn, 1990, p. 193)

Rather than invest the bulk of one’s energies sifting through 30 some odd years of Rawlsian scholarship, the next generation of egalitarian philosophers should begin by asking “Why is there inequality?” So this recent paper, for example, should serve as the starting place for serious egalitarians. This study concludes that “differences in the technology by which a people derive their livelihood and in the institutions and norms making up the economic system jointly contribute to this pattern [of inequality]”.

Anyways, taking (1) seriously shows us that institutions and individual behaviour matter in terms of the complex factors that influence different kinds of inequality.

What about (2)—what is the ideal? Unfortunately most egalitarians jump straight to this. And the ideal is-- we should be  equal in something (e.g. welfare, wealth, capabilities, etc.).

But once one takes the empirical constraints of (1) and (2) seriously, I believe one’s account of (2) would become more attractive, defensible, feasible and (most importantly) provisional.  One can get a better sense of “what” should be equalized. Indeed, one might even temper their egalitarian ambitious and opt instead for a principle of sufficiency or priority. Indeed, this is what has happened to me.

And skill (3) is where the real action is. “What Needs to be Done?” should be the overarching concern of the egalitarian. How do we move from our unequal situation to a more just one? Unfortunately, egalitarians tend not to think much further than “take money from X (the rich) and give it to Y (the poor), thus creating more equality!”

But appreciating the complex factors highlighted by (1) will, I believe, expand the imaginative capacities of egalitarians, providing them with a better sense of what would constitute a  feasible timescale for achieving their egalitarian aspirations (given our history and circumstances) as well as a better understanding of the things that can help them realize a better world….

Said straightforwardly, even if you dismissed all the complexity throughout the universe which makes true egalitarianism contra-reality, you at least ought to bring some semblance of these complexities to your understanding of: 1) why there never has been large-scale egalitarianism, 2) what any kind of egalitarianism could realistically thrive in the world as we now understand it, and 3) what real-world cognitive, social/cultural/economic and starting point complexities need to be taken into account when designing your radical political agenda.

That is, how about starting with a ‘non-ideal’ theoretic approach?

Most especially, let it be founded upon the fact that there is such a thing as human nature.

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An additional review in The Economist magazine on the same book:

Not so smart now

The father of behavioural economics considers the feeble human brain

Oct 29th 2011 

TOWARDS the end of “Thinking, Fast and Slow”, Daniel Kahneman laments that he and his late collaborator, Amos Tversky, are often credited with showing that humans make “irrational” choices. That term is too strong, he says, to describe the variety of mental mishaps to which people systematically fall prey. Readers of his book may disagree. Mr Kahneman, an Israeli-American psychologist and Nobel economics laureate, has delivered a full catalogue of the biases, shortcuts and cognitive illusions to which our species regularly succumbs. In doing so he makes it plain that Homo economicus—the rational model of human behaviour beloved of economists—is as fantastical as a unicorn.

In one experiment described by Mr Kahneman, participants asked to imagine that they have been given £50 behave differently depending on whether they are then told they can “keep” £20 or must “lose” £30—though the outcomes are identical. He also shows that it is more threatening to say that a disease kills “1,286 in every 10,000 people”, than to say it kills “24.14% of the population”, even though the second mention is twice as deadly. Vivid language often overrides basic arithmetic.

Some findings are downright peculiar. Experimental subjects who have been “primed” to think of money, perhaps by seeing a picture of dollar bills, will act more selfishly. So if someone nearby drops some pencils, these subjects will pick up fewer than their non-primed counterparts. Even obliquely suggesting the concept of old age will inspire people to walk more slowly—though feeling elderly never crossed their mind, they will later report.

After all this the human brain looks less like a model of rationality and more like a giddy teenager: flighty, easily distracted and lacking in self-awareness. Yet this book is not a counsel of despair. Its awkward title refers to Mr Kahneman’s two-tier model of cognition: “System 1” is quick, intuitive and responsible for the quirks and mistakes described above (and many others). “System 2”, by contrast, is slow, deliberative and less prone to error. System 2 kicks in when we are faced with particularly complex problems, but much of the time it is all too happy to let the impulsive System 1 get its way. (Readers may be reminded of Freud’s “id” and “superego”, though Mr Kahneman never mentions this particular intellectual ancestor.)

What, then, is System 1 good for? Rather a lot, it turns out. In a world that often demands swift judgment and rapid decision-making (fight or flight?), a creature who solely relied on deliberative thinking wouldn’t last long. Moreover, System 1 generally works well. As Mr Kahneman says, “most of our judgments and actions are appropriate most of the time”. He urges readers to counteract what he considers to be mistakes of System 1 thinking, such as the “loss aversion” that deters people from accepting favourable gambles (such as a 50-50 chance to win $200 or lose $100). He also recommends checking the performance of an investment portfolio no more than once a quarter, to limit needless anguish over short-term fluctuations and the “useless churning” of shares.

Mr Kahneman does not dwell on the possible evolutionary origins of our cognitive biases, nor does he devote much time to considering why some people seem naturally better at avoiding error than others. Still this book, his first for a non-specialist audience, is a profound one. As Copernicus removed the Earth from the centre of the universe and Darwin knocked humans off their biological perch, Mr Kahneman has shown that we are not the paragons of reason we assume ourselves to be. Often hailed as the father of behavioural economics (with Tversky as co-parent), his work has influenced a range of disciplines and has even inspired some policy. But the true consequences of his findings are only starting to emerge. When he presents the poor victims of his experiments with conclusive proof of their errors, the typical reaction is not a chastened pledge to shape up, but confused silence, followed by business as usual. No one likes to be told he is wrong.

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* Ideal theory makes two types of idealizing assumptions about its subject matter. First, ideal theory assumes that all actors (citizens or societies) are generally willing to comply with whatever principles are chosen. Ideal theory thus idealizes away the possibility of law-breaking, either by individuals (crime) or societies (aggressive war). Second, ideal theory assumes reasonably favorable social conditions, wherein citizens and societies are able to abide by principles of political cooperation. ~ http://plato.stanford.edu/entries/rawls/#IdeNonIdeThe