Guns, human rights, mental health, and behavior, Part II

Let's continue the conversation on why mental illness does not cause gun violence.  B. F. Skinner, perhaps the most prominent and influential (and infamous) psychologist of the past century, mirrors my thoughts more eruditely in his collection of personal notes, Notebooks (1980). The following example recounts Skinner's thoughts in the wake of the 1966 massacre at the University of Texas - Austin, where Charles Whitman killed more than a dozen people before being shot by police. I have emphasized a few important portions that will sound very familiar, despite the example being nearly 50 years old.

Fictions in the News
A student at the University in Austin took a rifle into a tower and fired at people in the streets. He killed 13 and wounded 30. There have been a rash of explanations. The boy's father spoke of tensions and "snapping." The "breaking point" had been reached. The university psychiatrist spoke of frustrated achievements and aspirations. Doctors found a small tumor near the brainstem.

The boy's father unwittingly got closer to real causes. He described himself as a gun addict - always hunting - brought up his boys to shoot. The boy was in the Marines - taught to shoot again. Killing from a tower reminds one of the assassination of President Kennedy, also in Texas.

But the environmental history gets little notice. The mental and the physiological fictions prevail. Whatever effect, if any, the tumor had, it did not cause the behavior of taking an arsenal of guns and ammunition to a tower, barricading the doors, and shooting innocent people. It could not even have interfered with "cortical inhibition normally suppressing such behavior," or if it did, we still have to explain the behavior.

If we want to reduce gun violence, it will do little good to quibble about imaginary causes, about mental states and so-called unstable people. We have to look to our environments, to our culture, and to change them to prevent further needless deaths.

Mental illness does not cause this.

Guns, human rights, mental health, and behavior, Part I

Years ago, yesterdays on-air murder of a television reporter and a photographer would have shocked and horrified me. Today, the only thing that shocks me about it is that anyone is still shocked. And though I am horrified, it is doled out between the act itself and my suspicion that absolutely nothing will change. The latter horror is made worse by my conviction that this protracted national nightmare of gun violence could be ended if appropriate interventions were adopted.  

Another day in America.

Of course, they won't be. The murder of two people doing a puff piece for the local news? Pfft. If the wholesale slaughter of nearly two-dozen children didn't change anything, this surely will not. So, I guess we are relying on magic to save us. Maybe if we all just pray really hard the violence will end. I mean really hard, you guys. Get to work.

This gruesome spectacle offers an "opportunity" to discuss a few important principles of behavior. First, let's tackle the issue of mental health in this country, and whether it is responsible for the murders of innocent people in events like Roanoke, Sandy Hook, Charleston, Columbine, and so many others...

NO, IT IS NOT.

There. That was easy.

OK, I should probably explain. But so many arguments roll in from people that resort to labeling the people who commit these violent acts as crazy, mentally unstable, and the like... and it is such an obviously terrible kind of argument. It does not hold up to even the slightest bit of scrutiny.

Even after accounting for the relatively large population of the United States, the amount of gun violence here far eclipses the amount of violence in the rest of the developed world. There are a huge number of differences between nation-states and little means by which we can experimentally test how they individually manifest in human behavior, and so determining causality can be tricky. That said, those who would argue that what we face is a mental health crisis also would have to explain why other nations are not facing the same problem. If a gun-rights advocate wants to claim that guns are not the problem, but that mental health is, they may find themselves in the unfortunate position of having to adopt the following position:

America makes more people more crazy than does the rest of the world.

What is the solution, if mental illness is the problem? Certainly, we must increase the care, treatment, and monitoring of psychologically imbalanced individuals, right? Now the gun-rights advocate may find himself having to adopt another uncomfortable position:

America needs to spend more money to properly care for the mentally ill.

For many conservatives, these positions run counter to their stated values. The first suggests that we are far inferior in some meaningful way, the second suggests a fiscally irresponsible (not my words) social program to address the problem. But this all leads to my more important point...

Mental health is not the important issue here. Listen, I am as big an advocate for the improvement of mental health in the world as anyone. I support increased funding for social programs, I respect and admire the work of mental health professionals, and I believe that improved psychological well-being amongst a country's citizens can have vast, important, positive impacts that may be difficult to fully measure and appreciate. My point is not that mental health isn't an important consideration in general, it is that being mentally unhealthy does not cause one to violently attack and murder innocent people with a deadly weapon. It can do that no more than it can cause one to drive a car, make a sandwich, solve a Rubik's Cube, or complete a jigsaw puzzle.

Simply put, being mentally unstable does not really cause any behavior, but instead is a reflection of an individual being impacted and his behavior strengthened by environmental events in a manner that is atypical for human beings. If a person finds that chewing on broken glass is very pleasurable, and that person goes out of their way to chew on broken glass, if that person would give you a dollar for the empty soda bottle you are holding... well, that is reflective of an odd (atypical) kind of reinforcing event. Most humans do not find the act of chewing glass to be a good thing.

However, it's not that the glass chewer is crazy, and that his craziness leads him to chew glass. It's that when he tried chewing on glass, he enjoyed* it, and thus continues to look for the opportunities to chew it. In other words, he wasn't built knowing that he liked this activity, but an interaction with a particular environment allowed him to learn that he did.

The same goes for guns. We find ourselves in a culture that has a permissive attitude towards deadly weapons. We see them throughout our lives on police officers, on friends and family members, in the popular media, and gun ownership is codified as a right* in our country's Constitution. Many grow up with guns, play first-person shooters, learn to shoot at an early age. Couple all that with any number of other potential environmental factors in America (e.g., large wealth gap, reduced social spending, a long and important history of poor race relations), and it may not be terribly surprising that we observe so much so-called "senseless" gun violence.

*Kinda...

Nothing For Any Purpose, Part II

You can read Part I here. Here is a link to the original popular press article. 

Last time, I indicated that it is unhelpful to enthusiastically embrace some species as being somehow inherently "remarkable," because it denies the role of the environmental history of the organism. On top of this, such a judgment also says more about human beings than it does the animal (in this case, the octopus). In this installment, I address the following question, pulled from a statement by the study's lead author:

Do the cephalopods' "large, elaborate brains" permit them "to be active predators with complex behaviors"?

On its surface, this point appears harmless and reasonable enough. However, there is an underlying unwarranted assumption that pervades a large amount of work in the biological and psychological sciences.

The issue is one of teleology, or of explaining phenomena in the natural world in terms of their purpose, rather than in terms of their antecedent causes. Many people, laypersons and scientists alike, agree that humans can have reasons for their actions, and that they purposefully act in an intentional, top-down manner. An esteemed philosopher of science, Daniel Dennett, argues that we can and should adopt what he terms "the intentional stance" when it comes to human behavior. We can ask a person their reasons for acting a particular way, and fully* accept an answer that uses terms of one's conscious striving towards a particular goal.

In biology, however, this kind of reasoning is inappropriate. Prior to Darwin, many of the world's greatest thinkers could only conceive of the orderliness of the natural world as being the product of a supernatural entity, a cosmic designer, a God who behaved with purpose. Darwin's theory of evolution tidily dispenses with such explanations in favor of an entirely bottom-up, undirected natural process that produces stunning amounts of complexity. There are no purposes, and there are no goals. Darwin's theory thus flipped our understanding of Earthly life entirely on its head. The continued vociferous religious opposition to modern evolutionary theory is due to the elimination of purpose from the natural world, the express rejection of teleological explanation.

A bird's wings are not intended for flight; monkeys did not evolve responsive prehensile tails to become more agile arboreal denizens; and octopuses did not develop large brains to enable complex predatory behavior. A complete explanation of complex animal behavior does not require that Nature furnish such purposes.

Credit: http://www.jesusandmo.net/

The teleological claim that the animal's large brain engenders their predatory behavior is unfounded if one considers the evolutionary history of the organism. The octopus's large and complex brain was shaped over millions of years as a function of its environment, or, if you'd prefer, its ecological niche. So too, simultaneously, was its tendencies to behave in a manner that humans would eventually observe and find clever. Under the wide scope of this analysis, the brain does not strictly cause behavior in the sense that it "enables" predation or problem solving. Instead, both the brain's complexity and the organism's complex behavior are products of a temporally extended, dynamic, and complex environment having acted on the raw material of evolution. A modern cephalopod's complexity, in both brain and behavior, is a direct product and reflection of environmental pressures to which its ancestors were subjected in a mindless and purposeless process. In a very important sense, the most important issue is not how interesting the octopus is, but how interesting its ancestors' homes were.

We should welcome research that continues to illuminate the scope of the natural world. The data in this specific study appear to be exciting and worthwhile, and the researchers should be given their due credit. However, scientists should be very careful in how we convey the results of our investigations to the public so as to avoid misunderstanding. A mistake too-often made is the ascription of teleological explanations for phenomena that need nothing like "purpose."

Darwin kept a large number of personal notebooks over his life, particularly during the era prior to the publication of The Origin of Species. In the pages of these notebooks, you find the great thinker's thoughts on a wide host of philosophical, political, and scientific matters. During the voyage of the Beagle, he had with him a pad now known simply as the Red Notebook. On its back cover, he wrote four words that reflect an enormous step in his personal evolution, and ones that any practitioner and communicator of science should take to heart:

“Nothing for any purpose.”


*Maybe, maybe not. More on this will be saved for a later discussion.

Nothing For Any Purpose, Part I

About a week ago at a very early hour, I was sitting with my laptop, clicking through headlines on my usual circuit of blogs, social media, and news sites. I checked in on the Cubs score. I read tweets from people experiencing the annual Perseid meteor shower and sighed; unfortunately, the skies above me were cloudy that morning. Even if they weren't, there was a good chance I wouldn't have seen much, due to significant light pollution from D.C. I half-heartedly scanned a few political pieces on the presidential primary races. Hillary Clinton. Bernie Sanders. Donald Trump. Oh, great, Scott Walker is spending a few hundred million dollars on a new sports stadium in Milwaukee.

This is a normal pattern. It's usually just a matter of time before something reaches out and grabs my attention with both hands.

And then I came across it: NBC News reporting on a new study published in Nature, about the sequencing of the octopus genome. Apparently, this is the first time that it has been done in any cephalopod. Very cool. 

Unfortunately, there's some added information within the article about the intelligence of octopuses. A biology graduate student on the paper is quoted as saying that the cephalopods are "remarkable creatures." Octopuses "can camouflage themselves with skin that can change its color and texture." The animals also have "large, elaborate brains that allow them to be active predators with complex behaviors." 

There are a couple of enormous problems with this characterization of the octopus. They both revolve around a single broad issue: They suggest a basic misunderstanding of what animals are.

I cannot fault the graduate student for the error. It is an incredibly pervasive one, so much so that many researchers would scarcely have paid it any mind in the first place. The student was being quoted for a popular piece within the mainstream press. This requires a relaxation of the usual scientific jargon, but this can be costly. I do not wish to pick on this student specifically, but rather use her words to highlight faulty practice within science communication that is in desperate need of correction. This post will address the claim that octopuses are remarkable creatures; the next will address the issue of teleology as an explanatory tool.

First: Are octopuses remarkable creatures? 

To the extent that one can and may remark on octopuses, this is doubtlessly true. But to suggest that they are somehow unusual is certainly untrue. The truth is that there is nothing inherently more remarkable about the octopus than about any other kind of animal. People, scientists included, are not impartial observers of the natural world, but are packed with biases that color their judgments. Yes, the octopus has morphology and a behavioral repertoire that are each terribly fascinating. However, this reflects nothing uniquely important about the octopus, but instead tells us something about humans. 

Are there species of animal out there that are not remarkable? I doubt anyone can reasonably explain why squirrels are not remarkable. Or pigeons. Or hermit crabs, or hummingbirds, or earthworms. The members of any extant species are necessarily the product of billions of years of evolution, and in a very important biological sense, are all exactly equally suited to their ecological niche. What we observe are the tiny, existent portions of a theoretical distribution of all possible organisms, which itself is characterized by a nearly infinite distribution of possible genomes. Every species has unique characteristics within its members; indeed, each must in order to be defined as a species in the first place (pay no mind to how squishy the definition of "species" really is). Every animal of every species is characterized by a combination of both morphological and behavioral adaptations that have been shaped by distinct environments across evolutionary time. 

If every species is remarkable, then none are.

Octopuses are charismatic animals only in the sense that they appeal to the human animal, and not for any reason owing to their specific nature. There are many reasons why this might be so, but in the absence of scientific data one can only speculate. It is probably important that they make fairly rare appearances in most humans' lives. Aside from a relative handful of biologists, almost no one has frequent interactions with cephalopods. Additionally, that they appear (to us) to behave in a manner akin to human intelligent behavior almost certainly renders them endearing. Consider them alongside other well-loved, charismatic animal species, like bonobos, dogs, and elephants. 

In summation of this point: It is important that scientists openly embrace that the entirety of Earth's biosphere is necessarily equivalent when it comes to the fundamental machinations of evolution. Speaking as a layperson, it is not a problem to pick favorites. Personally, I am a dog lover, and entertained the idea of owning a colony of rats. I also have a fascination with jumping spiders that borders on the unhealthy. However, speaking as a scientist, it is at best slippery to assert that some animals are more intelligent than others - if you doubt this, try to concretely and objectively define intelligence to a friend. When we humans apply the term to nonhuman animals, we typically are just referencing how like humans they seem to behave. It does nothing to improve the public's understanding to assert that certain species are somehow more "remarkable" than others. If anything, doing this serves to reinforce an Aristotelian-style hierarchy at which Homo sapiens sits at the top. Such a view has been scientifically outdated since Darwin's time, but has persisted in our common language. 

This is very wrong.

What this blog is about

The central organizing principle of this blog is the following premise: That the universe is fundamentally the same no matter the vantage point.

On its face, such a statement seems ridiculous. After all, even within our rather tiny corner here on Earth, that there is a huge amount of complexity appears to be self-evident. There are stark differences between regions on this planet in terms of climate, wildlife, and human ethnic and cultural diversity, to name just a few things. And our planet is a nearly infinitesimal fraction of the broader cosmos, within which there are planets with seas of liquid methane, giant gaseous planets without surfaces, billions of stars ranging up to millions of miles in diameter, pulsars, comets, black holes, and innumerable other phenomena that fascinate human beings.

Nevertheless, the rules that govern the Universe are the same no matter where you go. Such a position is a guiding principle of modern science. The surface appearance of a heterogenous, complex, designed universe may convince us of a fiction. It is misleading on a grand scale.

A few examples of the common structure of the Universe are as follows:

1) Gravity. The force of gravity is entirely predictable from a tiny number of variables. You need only know the masses of the two objects in question (say, the Earth and its moon) and the distance between them. So far as we can tell, these values will tell you the force of gravity between objects everywhere in the Universe. We flew to the moon and back with this information.

2) The chemical elements. The enormous complexity of the broader cosmos, all of its visible mass, is composed of a mere few dozen types of chemical elements. Your mass is almost entirely (i.e., ~99%) made up of only six elements: Carbon, oxygen, hydrogen, calcium, nitrogen, and phosphorus. Think about that: You're basically six things. The apparent complexity of the human body arises from arranging these elements (as well as a few other trace elements) in different combinations and in different structures.

3) Life on Earth. Life is staggeringly, awe-inspiringly complex. Millions and millions of species, all colonizing this aqueous, tranquil planet, and all being remarkably adapted to their circumstances. Anyone who has not experienced a sense of wonder in contemplation of the natural world needs to get out more. Flatworms, cockroaches, parakeets, squirrels, walruses, and orcas... and that's just from the animal kingdom. For all the apparent differences between species, Darwin's great idea was that they have a shared history. The species were not created separately from one another, but instead are each products of evolution driven by the simple and undirected process of natural selection. The existence of life without natural selection is difficult to imagine, no matter what life-harboring planet you may be on.

This is just a smattering of examples. There are many more that demonstrate the commonality and simplicity of the cosmos, some of which I may touch on at a later date.

This blog is primarily concerned with the topic of the behavior of organisms, a field typically considered the purview of psychologists. Though humans have been interested in behavior since humans came to be, the scientific examination of the topic has lagged far behind its sister disciplines of physics, chemistry, and biology. The science of psychology is very young, and many of its practitioners have made (and continue to make) unfortunate errors in understanding behavior. A common mistake has been the assumption that we are somehow special, that simple and wide-ranging rules somehow do not apply to us. This assumption is damaging, but is often rather subtle, which is a potential reason for its stubborn persistence.

In this blog, I will discuss matters of philosophy, politics, religion, science, and anything else I consider relevant to understanding behavior - which, frankly, is a list without limit. Anything that animals do is relevant in a conversation about the science of behavior, and we are animals.