Tuesday, August 11, 2009

The Choice Point: A Response to MoJo

Moriah's responses to "The Haunting 'I'" (here and here) have had me thinking about the intersection of psychopathology and agency, about the place of psychopaths (serial killers included) in the plan of happiness. As Moriah says, "I'm not sure sometimes why these people (psychopaths, serial killers, whatever) are here. I have theories and speculations." As do I. And they center in the complex interaction between an individual's biology, sociology, temperament, and agency, an interaction Moriah also seems to imply, or at least to consider, in her reference to the Prodigal Son as pattern for our eternal "coming home at last": the point where we finally turn and return to God as a result of life choices and circumstances that have taken us away from Him or from reaching for Him and through which we may have become bogged down in "riotous living" (though I could be completely off reading her comment this way. Forgive me, please, if that's the case, MoJo).

An acknowledgment of this complexity also seems to trouble the surface of this comment: "Most days I wonder what, if any, control these people actually have over their actions. If, once they make ONE CHOICE, they're doomed to follow that path." And while I'm not sure if one choice alone can be the determining factor in the development of certain psychopathological tendencies, I am fairly confident that our agency can be limited, our choices determined by forces beyond our control. Doing some Googling to the tune of "LDS + psychopathology" this morning, I dredged up this article in the July 1973 New Era by Allen E. Bergin, prominent Mormon psychologist and once professor at BYU, in which he advances toward a theory of human agency. (Like the mixed metaphors in that sentence---music and dredging?)

The first thing I thought when I read the article, which is based on Bergin's research findings, was (in a completely unrelated vein) how far the Church magazines have moved from essays of this complex bend. They've become far more simple (simplistic?) through the years, though my speculations as to why are the subject for another day. The second thing I considered was how Bergin's biases as a conservative Latter-day Saint and psychologist may have shaped his findings. I found this section especially telling in this regard:
[W]hile I do not look to psychology for my salvation or that of mankind, I do view it (together with the related behavioral sciences) as one of the most exciting and potentially useful fields of inquiry that exists. While some of its practitioners promote bizarre theories and engage in unethical behavior, the major thrust of the field is a positive and progressive one. I suggest in all candor and sincerity that psychology is as fundamental to the implementation of the principles of gospel living (the Christian life-style) as medical science is to the implementation of the Word of Wisdom. Just as biomedical research reveals to us the mechanisms underlying the principles of the Lord’s code of physical health and thereby provides us with a more positive control over the health of our bodies, so also, behavioral science informs us of the processes underlying revealed principles of living and provides us with improved power to promote the health of mind and spirit. Psychology is thus as basic to the study of living as biochemistry is to the study of life. It is, in my estimation, the most important secular subject matter for Latter-day Saints to know.
Interesting language: Psychology as "the most important subject matter" for us to know. Insightful, yes, and helpful when analyzing motives and searching for understanding of behavior; but the most important? Maybe. Maybe not.

Anyway, though I take exception with some of Bergin's language, biases, and assertions (I have my biases, too, so I won't take him to task today), I found these thoughts, found in the section titled "Determiners of Behavior at a Choice Point," especially enlightening in terms of present considerations:
All human acts are determined by multiple influences. We may identify six broad classes of influence as: (1) cultural, social, or environmental controls; (2) biological factors; (3) habits of response that have been conditioned, especially by childhood experiences; (4) feelings or emotions; (5) thoughts, ideas, or beliefs; and (6) spiritual inspiration.

It would be preferable if human beings acted upon the latter three factors primarily, but unfortunately their behavior is too often dominated by influences outside of their control. If we are to be wise, receive the truth, and take the Holy Spirit for our guide as suggested in D&C 45:57, we must learn to optimize the influence of higher processes in our actions. Otherwise, we lose our power of independent action and are “encircled about by the bands of death, and the chains of hell” (Alma 5:7) and then “are taken captive by the devil, and led by his will down to destruction.” (Alma 12:11)
He goes on to discuss the varying degrees of control we each exercise in our lives as a whole and at different moments therein, suggesting that, at any given "choice point" (I like that phrase), we still possess some sense of control, nominal as it may be in certain circumstances and for different people, including the sociopath.

And all of this, I think, is just a long way of responding to Moriah (I hope I haven't mutilated your comments!), of saying that human agency is a complex principle and that, by extension, it's a difficult thing to judge what degree of control an individual has at any given point in his or her life. If I had more time, I'd explore this in greater detail, but I think it's a beginning. Suffice it conclude, for now, that I thank God that we have in Him a Judge whose unique Being (fullness of justice, mercy, knowledge, love, etc.) allows him to consider all these things when determining our eternal fate---and that I won't be the one doing the doing the final judging.

9 comments:

  1. Heh. I warranted a whole post. Cheeky!

    Disclaimer: Rambling again. These are totally disjointed.

    1. Basically, yeah, it's that intersection of will and conditioning and psychobiology that is a bit troubling.

    2. My mother read and semi-sorta pushes this book called THE MYTH OF SELF-ESTEEM, which I think is total claptrap, but hey, if it makes her happy to carry MORE of the BS my grandma heaped on her, good on her. I guess. Maybe. Not really.

    Part of this is my recent thinking about The Parable of the Ten Virgins.

    Part of it is the metaphor we use culturally to effect obedience (and the blinder, the better).

    Part of it is my searching (through the characters I write) the various stages of belief and faith and how things manifest--and, having written and published the way I do, if I will have church-ish consequences to pay.

    Part of it is my experience in my ward (possibly stake) that is micromanaged to the nth degree so much so that we have stopped going to that one and started going to another; it feels...dark and possibly evil.

    Part of it is my years-long wondering if the Prodigal Son is meant as far more than what it is to us as humans. I mean, who could be MORE prodigal than Lucifer?

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  2. Wow, MoJo: Cheeky. Rambling. Disjointed. Inquisitive. Maybe a bit rebellious. Child, what shall we do with you?

    Being the above-average blogger that I am, I’m going to validate your disjointed ramblings (and so seek validation of my own, because, hey, isn’t blogging in part one great—or not so great, as the case may be—quest for validation?) with some parallel ramblings of my own:

    1. The intersection of will and conditioning and psychobiology is a bit troubling, isn’t it? Makes me consider more and more that agency is a more complex principle than most black and white Mormons care to pursue or even to acknowledge. And more and more, I find myself willing to confront, to try to deal with the considerable gray areas, the ambiguities of the gospel, the space where doubt and faith interact in the recursive process of destroying and rebuilding souls, where the answers aren’t as definite and simple as some might want to believe.

    2. The Myth of Self-Esteem, huh? Of the “How rational emotive behavior therapy can change your life forever” sort? I don’t see how rational and emotive necessarily fit together or how such negation of the extremes of feeling (because that’s what it seems to me, on a first, cursory glance) can really promote sustainable change in anyone’s life. Then again, I’m no real advocate of self-help culture and psychology, so what do I know?

    As for your recent thinking on the parable of the ten virgins and the Prodigal Son: I think you’ve got some valid points, especially in conjunction with the ambiguities of literary creation and interpretation, with Mormonism’s cultural metaphors, and with our often naïve conceptions and (mis)interpretations of Deity, all of which are often given and received without real thought (which is why I’ve been airing the rhetorical laundry lately).

    The same goes for your local church experience: valid points I’ve also struggled with to some degree and in various circumstances.

    In short (said more, maybe, for me than for you): we’re all wanderers rambling disjointedly through similar difficulties and ambiguities (though some more assuredly than others). So why the hell not struggle and ramble toward some unity of faith together? I mean, lest we think we're in all this alone...

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  3. Tyler, have you seen that episode of Little House on the Prairie where Charles Ingles helps his adopted son break his addiction to painkillers by standing with him every minute the kid suffers the terrible effects of withdrawal, holding him to the course?

    My daughter was born with a good deal of her brain destroyed. In the church's eyes, she is "not accountable" and not in need of baptism.

    Yet in order to spark in her what consciousness was possible (which possiblities the professionals involved suggested didn't exist), I relied deeply upon the doctrine of human agency. 24 hours a day I kept her physically close, putting choices to her, first of all, to help her come out of the cave-in she'd suffered, and second, to raise to her the possiblily of overcoming the terror she felt at being in a noisy, overwhelming unpredictable world that assaulted her being at every moment.

    It took every moment of every day for years, but slowly, she began making her own choices. And while she remains at a huge disadvantage, what she has gained stands in testament not only of agency's key role in the development of intelligence and consciousnessness but also of the spark of human desire remaining even to a severely brain-injured child to rise to the next level of life.

    I have no experience with sociopaths, but what if such a soul had even a single person who recognized early on what his or her challenges were and stuck by exerting a gravitational pull of human agency? Would that become a kind of catalytic relationship helping to open up life for such a child? The problem is, such an effort takes years and years and requires constant companionship. Charles' Ingles very intense days-long vigil at his son's side is an investment of time and emotional intensity that many people would find difficult to trust in, let alone actually get down into the psychological trenches and make. It can be intensely frightening and takes the soul making the trip with the at-risk being to the ends of his or her own known world. Such a journey changes the nature of life.

    If you've ever sat beside the sick bed of another person, child or adult, as they struggled back toward health, you have perhaps felt their reaching out for something to hold on to, to follow back. You've perhaps felt them reaching out for you.

    Sometimes people are unable to reach in ways we recognize, as was the case with my daughter. We have to do the initial reaching, sometimes for years and years. For the most part, our society is not developed enough to imagine the possibilities for those Others we do not immediately recognize, much to the tragic loss of such souls. Furthermore, the social surrounds have not moved too far yet beyond the old practice of abandoning the unrecognizable in one way or another, with the result that the abandoned one seeks out the society that abandoned it with tragic results -- the other energy of the Oedipus Complex.

    My experience with my daughter gave me reason to believe we are a long way from tapping into the full relational power of the human-to-human bond. For her, what I was able to manage was her only chance.

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  4. Patricia:

    I have to admit that I haven't seen much of Little House on the Prairie---never could find enough interest to watch more than a few minutes of the show---but I greatly appreciate the example you've drawn here and the strength of your presence in general.

    I've been thinking lately about the power and influence of personal presence and about using language that supports and facilitates the wise use of agency in those around us. And your comment challenges me to put those thoughts more fully to action in my own relationships, especially with my daughters who are still young enough not to realize or even to recognize the choices and possibilities before them. And I want my presence in their lives to be a catalyst for good, not one that holds them back from their potential as children of God (though I know there are things I'll inevitably do that will trip them up now and then).

    Your thoughts also reminded me of this: My wife and I had an opportunity not too long ago to be such a catalyst in the lives of some close friends whose marriage and family was on the verge of dissolution. We've been good friends with them for years and knew they'd been struggling with some things (as all married couples do), but didn't know how far apart they'd drifted until we walked into their home one evening and met an emotional explosion. When we left that night, we both felt we needed to do something to help them, so, even though we worried it wasn't our place, we went back the next evening and started to pry open the doors they'd locked and dead-bolted on each other. When we both got through to them separately, we learned they'd both independently been planning their lives away from each other, even though they had yet taken no formal steps to divorce.

    Over the next week or two, we spent a lot of time in their home, mediating conversations and raising the possibilities to them (to steal your phrase) of overcoming the challenges they faced and of saving their marriage, which they both wanted to do, but didn't know where to start or how to get out from beneath the language that had encrusted them in opposition to one another. Because we were there as intermediaries and wouldn't let their dialogue disintegrate into straw-men, swearing, and name-calling, they were slowly able to chisel away the hurtful language and to start the healing process. Now, they're much happier and the language in their home is much more positive, more agency-inducing, something that's been a great benefit, I think, in the lives of their two little boys.

    My wife and my efforts here in the psychological trenches, though draining, was fulfilling in a way I can't express (as you've probably experience a hundred times over through the work you've done with your daughter). And only now, as I write this and consider your thoughts, have I been able to see what we did in terms of the doctrine of agency and the power of language to raise in others the possibilities of higher levels of being-in-the-world.

    And that inspires me to be a more positive presence in the different forums of which I'm a small part.

    Thanks (perhaps more than you know, Patricia---and you too, MoJo) for stopping by and sharing your ten cents.

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  5. The Little Houses are about what you'd expect, but that one where Charles helps Albert through his morphine addiction is a stand-out. I was glad I saw it.

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  6. Well, as a Laura Ingalls Wilder (and, by default, Rose Wilder Lane) fan and somewhat aficionada/semi-scholar, I feel compelled to point out that the TV series has NOTHING whatsoever to do with the books other than the title of the show (i.e., the title of ONE of the Little House books, and the third one in the series, at that o_O) and the names of Ma, Pa, Laura, and Mary Ingalls. And Nellie and Willie Olsen. And Almanzo.

    And...that's about it.

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  7. As to children, I think it's a good idea to phrase the choices you give them in such a way as to make it seem like they have no other alternatives. As they get older, you can tack on more choices. At some point, you'll ask them to list their choices to you, and you can only list the possible consequences (including opportunity loss) for each, then let them decide within the boundaries of the household rules.

    With the friends you are talking about, Tyler, I can't even imagine fighting that dirty that you need an intermediary to come in and help tone down the rhetoric. On the other hand, I can see where one or both spouses let something build and build and build (in a misguided effort not to cause contention or hurt the other's feelings) until it's just so overwhelming that that's all you can do. You know, in every marriage there's That One Argument you keep having over and over again, all wrapped up in different types of papers and ribbons and sizes of boxes.

    *end*

    No, I never make any points. In case you were wondering.

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  8. My wife and my efforts here in the psychological trenches, though draining, was fulfilling in a way I can't express (as you've probably experience a hundred times over through the work you've done with your daughter).

    I'm still recovering from what I now consider to be the epic journey I made with her. Draining? Yes. But also expansive. I understand now that before she was born, for all my engagement in language, I was living an unknowing life. Still am, but I'm not as dumb as I was. :)

    Perhaps faith becomes more apparently an active quality (rather than a passive one, as some believe) under these conditions--including the conditions you and your wife immersed yourself into with your friends. Some of the what you did you probably didn't know if it was the right thing or if it would take anybody anywhere. You acted on faith. I know I did. Many of the choices I put to my daughter I offered year after year. Much of the instinctual investment of being I made into our relationship I made without knowing whether it would come to fruition in any way. The professionals involved shook their heads at my reports of progress. But after a while, the language turned from "She'll never" to, "I don't know what it is you're doing, but keep doing it."

    I think the best language, the best stance in relation (which for people almost always includes language of one kind or another), helps others keep their own stories open and going, though folks might not always choose what you think the obvious or ideal angle to go on.

    Good for you for going into the trenches with your friends.

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  9. I feel compelled to point out that the TV series has NOTHING whatsoever to do with the books other than the title of the show

    Compelled point taken, Moriah.

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