One
of the most sublime human emotions is the one we call awe. It's not very common for a modern person to feel it. But imagine you are a
New York City dweller used to seeing maybe two or three stars in the
sky. Imagine you take a vacation in Colorado. You book a campsite in
Rocky Mountain National Park. After nightfall you lie near your tent
and look up at the sky. You are astonished. You can now see not just
two or three stars, but thousands of stars. Plus you can see some
strange faint band stretching across the sky. It looks like some
ghostly river. You realize you are looking at the plane of the Milky
Way galaxy. You suddenly feel a strange emotion you have rarely felt
before. It is as if you have got in touch with some magnificent
reality vastly greater than your little self. You experience an awe
you will long remember.
But
why do people even feel such a rare emotion? In last week's edition of
the Huffington Post, psychology professor Dacher Keltner attempts an
explanation, in a rather long article entitled Why Do We Feel Awe?
But his explanation doesn't hold water. He starts off with this
suggestion:
Why
did awe became part of our species’ emotional repertoire during
seven million years of hominid evolution? A preliminary answer is
that awe binds us to social collectives and enables us to act in more
collaborative ways that enable strong groups, thus improving our odds
for survival.
This
hypothesis is unbelievable. Awe has nothing us to do with binding to
social collectives, nothing to do with enabling social groups, and
nothing to do with collaboration. Awe does nothing to improve any
organism's odds for survival.
We
might be able to explain fear using a Darwinian explanation, on the
grounds that an organism that is afraid of scary sights is more
likely to flee predators. But awe is something different from fear.
When you look up at a sky filled with stars, you feel awe, but you
feel no fear at all. Nothing could be less scary than a distant star.
To
try to justify his explanation for why humans feel awe, Keltner cites
an experiment:
My
colleague Michelle Shiota had participants fill in the blank of the
following phrase: “ I AM ____.” They did so 20 times, either
while standing before an awe-inspiring replica of a T. rex skeleton
in UC Berkeley’s Museum of Paleontology or in the exact same place
but oriented to look down a hallway, away from the T. rex. Those
looking at the dinosaur were more likely to define their individual
selves in collectivist terms—as a member of a culture, a species, a
university, a moral cause. Awe embeds the individual self in a social
identity.
This
is rather hilarious. The skeleton was not even a real T. rex
skeleton, but only a replica (probably something made out of plaster
or plastic). Why would someone feel awe looking at some fake dinosaur
skeleton?
Equally
questionable is the experiment which Keltner describes below, involving some
trees near a campus science building:
Participants
first either looked up into the tall trees for one minute—long
enough for them to report being filled with awe—or oriented 90
degrees away to look up at the facade of a large science building.
They then encountered a person who stumbled, dropping a handful of
pens into the dirt. Sure enough, the participants who had been gazing
up at the awe-inspiring trees picked up more pens.
This
is as dubious as the experiment with the fake dinosaur skeleton.
Looking up at tall trees doesn't produce awe. Trees are too common to
produce a feeling of awe. The fact that some participants may have
reported that they felt awe (when presented with a questionnaire
asking whether they did) is probably just a case of suggestibility or
people reporting that they had a feeling that they thought they were
supposed to have. Similarly, if you show a picture of a beggar to a
man and ask if it makes him sad, someone who does not feel sad will
often say he does feel sad, as a kind of act of social obligation or
acting in the suggested or expected way. Since Keltner merely says
that these tree gazers “picked up more pens” rather than saying
they picked up “many more pens” (and since the paper linked to
does not mention any specific numbers regarding this experiment or
any level of statistical significance), we can assume the effect he
is reporting is minimal or perhaps not even statistically
significant. Such a result tells us nothing.
At
this link the experiment is described in detail, and the paper claims
that “Participants who gazed up
at the trees offered more help to an experimenter than did
participants who gazed up at a building,” but offers no specific
numbers backing up such a claim. So we must conclude the effect was
minimal or marginal – for all we know, it could have been merely a
“1% greater” type of effect.
What
we have here is rather silly psychology experimentation on a
shoestring budget. To do a decent experiment on awe, you should do
something like take people to the Grand Canyon or to a mountain place
with crystal clear air where you can see 6000 stars at night. Then
when you suddenly showed them the awesome scenery, they might
experience awe. The experiment Keltner describes are “science on a
shoestring” type of experiments that probably tell us nothing about
awe, because they don't involve things that produce awe to a
significant degree. It's as if the experimenters were too lazy to
leave their local campus, and find something really awe-inspiring.
I
may note that inexpensive short-duration experiments like this are
generally of little worth whenever they report modest effects or
borderline effects (as in this case). If some college does a 2-year
long study costing 5 million dollars, that has some weight, because
presumably there would not been have time and money to try such a
study multiple times and then report only one version. But it's a
totally different situation for inexpensive short-duration studies.
Let's say I'm a professor trying to show that wearing some color of
shirt affects your test score performance. I could do 20 one-day
studies (asking my students to wear a particular color on each of 20
test days), and then cherry pick a particular day, which ever day
seemed to best support a “shirt color influences test scores”
hypothesis. I could then author a scientific paper reporting only on
that particular day's test. Of course, that really wouldn't give any
evidence for such a hypothesis. I would just be making an
inappropriate use of random fluctuations in test data.
Also
of little evidence value is a TV watching study described in this
paper (Study 3), which reports only marginal results. On page 8 of
the pdf, the authors report that they tried to experimentally induce
awe by showing a “5-minute clip inducing awe, consisting of nature
clips from the BBC’s Planet Earth series composed of grand,
sweeping shots of scenic vistas, mountains, plains, forests,
and canyons.” Such “eye candy” clips don't actually produce
awe. If you see a real canyon, it may produce awe, but seeing one on
television will not (unless you've never seen a canyon before on
television, or unless you're watching a good science fiction showing
some type of stunning scenery you've never seen before). Moreover,
the procedure described in Study 3 is so convoluted that it is
lacking in any evidence value. A supposed slight increase in
generosity was measured by a willingness to donate points in some
computer game, but the supposed difference in generosity involved
giving away a few more points which each had a cash value of only
pennies.
Similarly
weak from an evidence standpoint is Study 1 in the paper. Based on a
very dubious analysis of a person's tendency to feel awe, the study
reports a weak .123 correlation between awe and a tendency to give
away imaginary money in a game. I need not say much about the
weakness of that, other than to point out that a compelling
correlation is one that is, say, something like .700. Even when
correlations are much greater than .700 they are often coincidental.
This web site lists correlations of greater than .900 between totally
unrelated things, such as a .9925 correlation between the divorce
rate in Maine and the per capita consumption of margarine.
I
find the experiments of Keltner and his colleagues on this matter to
be quite unconvincing. It seems these are the type of results that anyone
could get to support any random psychology hypothesis he wanted to
support, just by doing 20 shoestring-budget short-duration
experiments and then reporting the few in which random data
variations best supported the hypothesis.
Keltner
tries to suggest that awe is something very social, but it isn't.
Quite to the contrary, awe is the least social of all emotions. When
you look at a sky filled with stars, you are absorbed in that
external glory, and are least likely to be thinking about another
human.
Keltner's
suggestion that awe is something that improved an early human's odds
of survival is without any merit. Quite to the contrary, we should
assume that awe is something that decreased an early human's odds of
survival. Show me a caveman who spent quite a bit of time staring up
at the stars with a feeling of awe, and I will show you a caveman
more likely to have been killed by a predator while he is distracted
by this activity that did nothing to help his chances of survival.
Show me a caveman who spent quite a bit of time watching the sun set
while he felt awe, and I will show you a caveman who would have been
more likely to be killed by a predator while he is distracted by this
activity that did nothing to help his chances of survival. Show me
a caveman who tended to go out of his cave and watch a lightning
storm with awe, and I'll show you a caveman more likely to have been
struck dead by a lightning bolt. Show me a caveman who stood staring
in awe at the big tusks of a mastadon, and I'll show you a caveman
more likely to have been gored to death by those tusks. Show me a
caveman fond of climbing mountains to experience awe-inspiring
vistas, and I'll show you a caveman more likely to die in an accident
while scaling such heights.
There
is no plausible Darwinian explanation for the emotion of awe, just as
there is no plausible Darwinian explanation for numerous other
aspects of the human mind – things such as musical ability, grammar
ability, philosophical reasoning, spirituality, insight, altruism,
and mathematical ability. As I argue here, these are things that do not increase an
organism's survival value in a natural setting, and which therefore
cannot be explained through a simplistic explanation of natural
selection. We must postulate that something much more was involved in
the origin of humanity than just random mutations and natural
selection.
If
you have a spark of the divine in you, or a soul, you should probably
expect that encountering some reality much grander than yourself
might trigger some sublime emotion, something like awe. But if you
were merely the soulless product of blind chance, you should expect
no such thing. If blind Darwinian processes were all that were
involved in our origins, you should expect that when you look up at
a mountain sky of 6000 dim, distant stars, you should feel absolutely
nothing.
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