Is Curiosity Fleeting, or Worse?

May 5, 2019 by Brian Hughes

From an evolutionary perspective, there is a clear reason why animals would seek out information: it can be vital to their survival and reproduction… Another possibility is that evolutionary pressures have made information intrinsically rewarding. – From HuffPost

For educators with an interest in enhancing the truthiness of society, the present is a good time for reflection on gaps between our shared myths and the truth. I’m particularly worried about the negative effects of a myth close to the heart of educators: the idea that humans are naturally curious.

Curiosity is certainly valuable. The article Curiosity is Fleeting, but Teachable by Bryan Goodwin is a nice overview of the relevance of a discussion about curiosity to educators. He summarizes recent research:

A recent meta-analysis concluded that together, effort and curiosity have as much influence on student success as intelligence does (von Stumm, Hell, & Chamorro-Premuzic, 2011). Other studies have linked curiosity to better job performance (Reio & Wiswell, 2000); greater life satisfaction and meaning (Kashdan & Steger, 2007); and even longer lives (Swan & Carmelli, 1996).

But perhaps more troublingly:

The longer children stay in school, the less curiosity they tend to demonstrate (Englehard & Monsaas, 1988).

Psychological research suggests that while humans start life as seemingly curious, environmental influences can diminish it. I think this suggests that we are minimally curious, which should be thought of as closer to information-seeking rather than knowledge-seeking. Information-seeking behavior seems highly related to or plodding around the globe with a focus on survival and reproduction, and may have become part of our nature through the process of natural selection. More information, more survival. Can the same be said for curiosity?

If there is nothing natural about curiosity, then it is a mistake to think that children (or people of any age) are going to be motivated by it. Students might ask about understanding and knowledge: what’s in it for us?

I think the answer has to be, “better tools.” Curiosity, imagination, and understanding are closely linked in the history of tool-making. Approaching curiosity as a learned behavior is a good step toward designing pedagogy to inspire imagination and motivate the process of understanding.

Using Words Against Us

March 27, 2019 by Brian Hughes

On Monday, POTUS followed a familiar pattern. Upon his apparent exoneration of accusations of treason, he accused his accusers of “treasonous” actions.

President Trump went on the offensive on Monday a day after the special counsel investigation reported no conspiracy with Russia, suggesting that critics who pursued such suspicions were “treasonous,” guilty of “evil things” and should be investigated themselves. – NYT

This action follows his long-standing behavior of accusing his political opponents of having the same deficiencies they attribute to him. In other, the President’s retort is often the schoolyard taunt “no I’m not, but you are.” Is it any wonder he is often accused of behaving like a child?

This “strongman” behavior lacks civility, rationality, and charm while appealing to our cognitive biases—or what we might call our “reflexive pettiness.” Here’s a few examples:

Confirmation bias – If you thought the President was innocent all along—or believe in vast government conspiracies—you’re more likely than ever to believe the accusations against the President were fake from the beginning.
Mean World Theory – If you watch a lot of conspiratorial TV, you’re more likely to believe that the world is corrupt. In this case, that’s anyone who chooses to take legal action against the President.
Self-serving bias – Already a fan of the President? You’re more likely to attribute the actions of his accusers to faults in their character, and your ability to determine the facts as a result of your intelligence.

Though subtle, the battery of accusations that flows from the President often lands its intended affect. This seems especially true of his “base,” who generally support his worldview.

To ameliorate these effects of cognitive biases, we can reflect on the motivations behind our perspectives, judgments, and accusations. Are we being fair, just, and unbiased? (Or are we just piling on?)

Living Versus Imagining

June 1, 2018 by Brian Hughes

What if one of the make-or-break achievements in life is learning how to grapple with the following challenge:

Live in the present, but imagine in the future.

What if that is much easier said than done? What does it take to really imagine in the future? How does one really assess the “present”?

What if the desire to align one’s actions/behaviors to an imagined future is really counterproductive? What if I could be undertaking much more productive projects if I committed more fully to a near-term agenda? (Is diversifying one’s actions a matter of hedging against an unknown future?)

And what if, instead of trying to imagine my way out of the present, I let me imagination wander more freely? What if I made grander assumptions about the future? Would that in fact help me choose better projects in the present? (Isn’t this really what I already do—but not really with much self-awareness?)

What’s a better direction to push in? Connect the present with the imagined? Or disentangle them further?

Isn’t it also a bit of a paradox to live without imagining the future? Where does the absurdity kick in? When I try to align my actions to things that haven’t yet taken place but could transpire in 10, 20, 30 or 100 years? And can one align one’s actions to things that seem unlikely to ever transpire? Would this be considered rational behavior?

It’s the economy.

A simple example that inspires this meditation is how financial markets allow investors to place bets on the future, thereby enabling businesses to use capital to make that future more likely to come transpire. Or money itself, really—an invention of human imagination that enables humans to align their actions in innovative and world-changing ways. We are able to use imagination to change the future—literally building the living conditions and constraints of not-yet-even-born humans.

This is both very banal (we determine the future!) and operationally unsettling (the quality of our imagination can determine every aspect of human livelihood!) in this matter. Particularly: how much can any one human really contribute to this reality-bending? And in a deeply pro-capitalist, anti-humanist society, how is the scale and scope of one’s contribution directly tied to their wealth?

We’re doomed?

What if we humans are just not that good at imagining complex things? (Or just not that good of thinking in general?) Or what if the humans that are good at imagining are systematically selected against (to lean on evolutionary terminology) when capital is distributed? Or what if the selection process that would eventually promote “good imaginers” (obviously a loaded notion) is just too slow?

Meritocracy is a Joke

February 18, 2018 by Brian Hughes

The term “meritocracy” was coined by sociologist Michael Young in his 1958 satire, The Rise of Meritocracy. Pro-tip: he was satirizing meritocracy, and was not happy that his work led to the popularization of the idea as a positive political philosophy. (I’ve recently run across this history in Edward Luce’s book, The Retreat of Western Liberalism.)

I appreciate this perspective, and am coming to believe that the tension between the ideals of meritocracy and social justice in the U.S. has never been more pronounced (let’s say since WWII). With the education sector sitting right at the heart of this tension, what does it mean for our work at EdLab?

For one, it suggests we should be mindful of how educational tools can be used to widen the gap between the rich and the poor. With inequality in the U.S. reaching impressive (though controversial) heights, it’s hard not to imagine that America’s “bootstrapping myth” is less realistic than ever.

It also suggests we have to be increasingly mindful of how education is positioned as instrumental for economic mobility—as compared to, say, an arena for curiosity. It’s easy to regard the latter as a elitist or privileged notion of education, but this uncharitable view could also be seen as a “view from inequality.” In other words, if economic goods were more equally distributed, there may be less pressure on education to lead to outcomes that were directly related to one’s economic status.

It’s fair to expect that in the coming years we’ll increasingly hear that education should serve the economic interests of Americans. While I agree in a narrow sense (that education should make every student more literate in regard to economics), in a broader sense, it’s a sad and self-defeating outcome of existing (and still rising) inequality. This instrumental view could be a dangerous dead-end for American education, rife with ceaseless testing, accountability measures, and narrowed (read: “low”) expectations. But one could object, “It’s time Americans get serious about educational outcomes to finally get ahead!”

This seems plausible, but consider if it’s putting the cart before the horse: Inequality could be a political problem, not an educational one. This is an important view from a “social justice” perspective, albeit one more often (only?) held by “Leftist” politicians and academics (Robert Reich being one of my favorites—check out his recent book, Saving Capitalism).

What does education look like if we don’t align it with a meritocratic-friendly perspective? I suspect it looks a lot like good teaching, great schools, and serious fun. In other words, like what we already know “good” education to look like. The problem, on this view, isn’t that our educational tools are substandard, or that it’s increasingly unaffordable for the vast majority of Americans (and even less so for the majority of global citizens in an increasingly connected world). The problem would seem to be that America is a plutocracy that can’t figure out how—or why—to invest in education.

Maybe the revolution we need isn’t an “educational” one, but what if an educational revolution is the only kind we can bring about? That is a striking problem and opportunity.