The Evolving Self

Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi

• Publisher: HarperCollins e-books
• Year: 2009
• ISBN:
  9780061843143
• Topic: Psicología
• Subtopic: Psicología humanista

The acclaimed sequel to the international bestseller Flow: an intelligent, inspiring guide to unlocking the evolutionary history of our present consciousness, and "becoming at one with the power that is the universe."

"A book of singular importance and timeliness, one with momentous implications for the future."— Howard Gardner

In Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi's bestselling Flow, he introduced readers to a radical new theory of happiness. Now in The Evolving Self —his breakthrough sequel—he demonstrates how we can understand and overcome our evolutionary shortcomings. Premised on the idea that only through a reckoning with our evolutionary past can we build a stable, meaningful future, The Evolving Self covers the challenges associated with our cognitive evolutionary history ("As far as controlling the mind is concerned, we are like a novice driver behind the wheel of a racing car"); the distortions of reality we experience due to genes, culture, and our sense of self; and the central importance of "flow" from an evolutionary perspective as we look toward the future.

Erudite, perceptive, and insightful—and more important now than ever, as our consciousnesses are increasingly mediated by electronic devices— The Evolving Self is a timely resource for anyone looking to improve our world for ourselves and for generations to come.

Part I

The Lure of the Past

1

The Mind and History

The Perspective of Evolution

Each year we learn more about the incredible complexity of our universe. The mind staggers at the intimation of billions of galaxies, each made up of billions of stars, slowly revolving in every direction for unimaginable distances. And inside each grain of matter supercolliders reveal ever-receding constellations of strange particles streaking along mysterious orbits. In the midst of this field of stupendous forces a human life unfolds in what is less than a split second on the cosmic time scale. Yet, as far as we are concerned, it is this, our own short life, filled with its few precious moments, that counts for more than all the galaxies, black holes, and exploding stars put together.

And there is good reason for feeling this way. As Pascal said, humans may be fragile as reeds, but they are thinking beings; in their consciousness they reflect the immensity of the universe. In the last few centuries, the human presence has become even more central in the natural world. We have only recently been able to have a glimpse of the millions of years that preceded us, eons during which thousands of organisms replaced one another, struggling to survive in an ever-changing landscape. And we now realize that our unique heritage—the reflective consciousness that lulled us into believing for a while that we were forever destined to be the crown of creation—brings with it an awesome responsibility. We realize that being at the cutting edge of evolution on this planet means we can either direct our life energy toward achieving growth and harmony or waste the potentials we have inherited, adding to the sway of chaos and destruction.

In order to make choices that will lead to a better future, it helps to be aware of the forces at work in evolution; after all, it is through them that we will succeed or fail as a species. My intention in this book is to reflect on what we know about evolution, and to develop the implications of that knowledge for everyday action. If we understand better what we are up against, we have a better chance to live our lives in a responsible fashion, and perhaps to help direct the future toward the most positive goals of humanity.

One result of reflecting on evolution is that one learns to take the past very seriously. Natura non fecit saltum, the Romans said: Nature does not progress by leaps and bounds. What we are today is the result of forces that acted on our ancestors many millennia ago, and what humankind will be in the future is going to depend on our present choices. But our choices are influenced by a number of constraints that are part of the evolutionary makeup of every human being. They are subject to the genes that regulate the functions of our body, and to instincts, which, for example, drive us to be angry or sexually aroused even when we don’t want to be. They are also constrained by cultural heritage, by systems that teach men to be manly and women to be ladylike, or one religion to be intolerant of the members of another.

While striving to change the course of history we cannot wish away the constraints that the past has burdened us with; to do so would lead only to frustration and disillusion. Knowledge of these forces that determine consciousness and action, however, can make it possible for us to become liberated from them: to become free to decide what to think, what to feel, and how to act. At this point in our history it should be possible for an individual to build a self that is not simply the outcome of biological drives and cultural habits, but a conscious, personal creation. That self will be aware of its freedom and not fear it. It will enjoy life in all its forms, and gradually become aware of its kinship with the rest of humanity, with life as a whole, and with the pulsing forces that animate the world beyond our comprehension. When the self begins to transcend the narrow interests built into its structure by evolution, it is then ready to start taking control of the direction of evolution in its turn. But shaping the future course of evolution is not something that can be accomplished by solitary individuals working alone. Therefore, it is necessary to consider which social institutions are most likely to sponsor positive evolutionary actions, and how we can develop more of them.

This, in brief, is the project of this book. It will first explore the forces from the past that have shaped us and made us the kind of organisms we are; it will describe ways of being that help us free ourselves of the dead hand of the past; it will propose approaches to life that improve its quality and lead to joyful involvement; and it will reflect on ways to integrate the growth and liberation of the self with that of society as a whole. Clearly the task set out for the book is too ambitious to be achieved inside the compass of its covers. Knowledge increases each year; experience matures with time. Writing about such matters is in itself an evolutionary process—slowly changing, never ending—but it is my hope that The Evolving Self will serve as a first step in the process.

It is partly for this reason that after each chapter I have listed some questions to stimulate further thinking, followed by blank spaces for you to enter your thoughts in. It is one modest way to show that the argument of the book is not completed, that it is open to be continued by each reader according to his or her wisdom and experience. Writing in books to complete the author’s thoughts has been one of the oldest scholarly practices in every civilization. The readers’ glosses added to the white margins of pages are as much a part of the culture as what was originally written on those pages. Books no longer have generous margins; hence it makes sense to provide an alternative way for the reader to get actively involved with what he or she reads. I hope it will happen here.

The Global Network

Not so long ago my wife and I had the privilege of sitting in on a town meeting in a small Rocky Mountain community. The town was at an altitude of almost nine thousand feet, in a sweet-smelling valley nestled between tremendous peaks. The air tasted as cool as spring water scented with the perfume of resin. Hummingbirds flitted under the eaves, and an eagle circled above the meadows. The meeting took place in the cheerful town hall built of logs and glass, with soaring cathedral ceilings, set on beautifully landscaped grounds. The parking lot glittered with the latest four-wheel-drive vehicles. There were about sixty people in attendance, all eager-looking, forceful individuals who seemed at ease with themselves. Some of them were ranchers, some were nurses and teachers, others had semiretired here from the distant city, or worked at the nearby ski resorts.

At first the meeting proceeded as such meetings do, with the approval of the minutes and comments on pending projects and ordinances. But not much time had passed before a lanky rancher stood up to voice the first complaint. Although he lived fifteen miles north of town, he said, on winter days smoke from the community’s fireplaces cast such a pall on the valley that it was like driving into a war zone. Was there anything the council was planning to do to restrict the burning of wood? Next an older man rose to describe the perilous condition of the Blue River, which, as everyone knew, was one of the best places to fish for trout in the entire state. Or rather, had been. Unfortunately, the federal highway department, in order to keep the high pass through which the interstate runs open in the winter, had been dumping tons of sand on the icy road every year. The sand washed into the river, eventually filling in the nooks and hollows where the trout spawn. Few young trout hatch anymore in the Blue River.

Mention of the interstate brought up a question from the audience: What was the current rate of local robberies and burglaries? Was it true that since the new road had been built the crime rate had shot up 400 percent? The sheriff explained that, well, yes, this was one of the prices you had to pay for progress. Before the interstate existed, the riffraff from the city did not want to bother driving this far out through tortuous roads to break into a house. But now that the drive was fast and comfortable, more criminals found the trip feasible. Smoke, trout, and burglaries are the least of our worries, interjected an elderly rancher, who stood up next to speak in a voice cracking with emotion. The real question was, What is going to happen to our water? None of us will survive without it, he said. The value of our land is tied to the water rights we own. But now the cities to the east and to the west are building giant underground tunnels to suck up the water from under our lands, leaving them dry. The meadows are turning brown and brittle; the herds are thinning out.

As the town meeting went on in this vein, it became progressively clearer that this was not the place I had originally thought it was. At the start I believed I was witnessing the decision-making process of a group of independent, self-reliant, affluent Americans who had the future in their hands. By the end I saw that this small community, proud in its isolation from the woes of the world, was in fact completely enmeshed in economic, political, and demographic processes originating far away, over which the townspeople had little control. And then what I had known for a long time in an abstract sort of a way finally hit home: There is no place left on earth where one can plan one’s destiny without taking into account what happens in the rest of the world.

Two other anecdotes may help illustrate this point. A few years ago, a Canadian professor who is a friend of a friend was planning retirement with his wife. Being sensitive and rational people, they decided to retire to the safest spot on earth they could find. They spent years poring over almanacs and encyclopedias to check out rates of homicide and health statistics, inquire about the directions of prevailing winds (so as not to be downwind of probable nuclear targets), and finally found a perfect haven. They bought a house on an island early in 1982. Two months later their house was destroyed: Their choice had been the Falkland Islands.

The other story concerns a relative of a friend, who is an extremely wealthy industrialist. He, too, wanted to retire someplace safe from the congestion and crime of Europe. He bought a small island in the Bahamas, built a splendid estate, and surrounded himself with armed guards and attack dogs. At first he felt safe and comfortable, but soon worries began to appear. Were there enough guards to protect him in case his wealth attracted criminals to loot the island? Yet if he strengthened the guard, wouldn’t he become increasingly weaker, more dependent on his protectors? In addition, the gilded cage soon became boring; so he fled back to the anonymity of a big city.

It might have been already true in John Donne’s time that “no man is an island,” but the truth of this saying is certainly obvious now. And the interconnectedness of human activities and interests is going to increase even faster than we are accustomed to in this third millennium we are approaching. Our actions will affect everyone living on the planet, and we will be affected by theirs. It is together that we shall either prevail or disappear. Yet human consciousness has developed through previous millennia to represent individual experiences, to advance individual interests: At best, we are prepared to love and protect our close kin. A few individuals have been able to stretch their minds to encompass broader interests, understanding that the division between “me” and “the other” is largely arbitrary. By and large, however, our consciousness is not prepared for the problems ahead, regardless of how urgent they are.

How can we best retool the mind for accommodating the challenges of the near future? One possibility, which this book explores, is to review what we know about the evolutionary past and its legacy to our minds. By understanding how human psychology has developed over time in response to changing conditions in the environment, we might find it possible to adapt more rapidly to the increasingly rapid changes demanding action in the future.

At the Hinges of the New Millennium

Why would someone want to read a book on evolution and psychology? It will not help the reader to invest money profitably, or plan a safe retirement income. It will not help in losing weight, stopping smoking, or moving up the career ladder. It cannot give the townspeople in the Rockies any clear guidance about how to save their trout or their water.

What The Evolving Self offers, instead, is a deeper understanding of the direction in which life on earth has been going, and hence a clearer sense of what the meaning of one’s own life might be. People who already know what they want out of their lives will probably find what follows superfluous. Those who believe that pleasure and possessions are the only reasons for living do not need to read further, since they will find little in these pages that is useful to them. Religious fundamentalists and adamant materialists alike are not seeking the kind of knowledge that will be explored in these pages, because they are already comfortable in their own beliefs. The ideal reader is someone who is curious about the meaning of life, who is not convinced that any of the existing explanations are exhaustive enough, who is concerned about the state of the world, and who would also like to do something about it. For such an individual, this book might provide ideas that can be translated into a clearer purpose and stronger conviction with which to confront life.

We shall look at the forces that have shaped our present condition on this planet, in order to explore what the future might turn out to be like. Not what it will be like, but what it might be like. The difference between will and might rests with us. To a large extent, it is our behavior that will determine which scenario is going to be realized. By acting in concert with positive evolutionary trends we might not become richer, healthier, or more powerful, but we are likely to derive a measure of happiness, or at least of serenity, from knowing that our actions are helping a better future take shape.

When the first millennium was fading into the second one a thousand years ago, people all over Europe were beginning to prepare for the end of the world. They left their homes in droves to camp out on mountainsides and in sanctuaries, hoping to avoid the worst sufferings of the fiery Armageddon they were sure was about to strike. They believed that if the end of the world caught them on a hilltop, after death they would be closer to God, and would be among the first in line to reach the seat of eternal judgment. Many of those who owned land and cattle gave away their wealth to the poor, because according to the Gospels a rich man has as much chance of entering the kingdom of heaven as a camel has of passing through the eye of a needle. For many years afterward people lived in a state of anxiety, looking over their shoulders for the signs of the second coming of Christ that would signal the beginning of the end.

Although for the past half century we have also been haunted by the fear that an explosive grand finale will consume all life on the planet, the reasons for the fear have changed. At the end of the first millennium, people believed that God had promised to end His great earthly experiment a thousand years after the death of His Son. Now we live with the fear of disintegrating, with devices of our own invention, the very force that keeps matter together, thus reducing the infinite variety and complexity of life on this planet to a bleak, deadly desert.

We have learned much in the past thousand years. We have come to realize that the earth is not the center of the universe, and most people have reconciled themselves to the idea that humans started walking the African plains about four million years ago—after serving time in earlier mammalian roles going back to a tiny shrew who kept stealing the dinosaurs’ eggs 250 million or so years ago. We have learned that our vaunted reasoning ability is founded upon a thin overlay of tissue stretched over a solid reptilian brain, and we have come to suspect that when the interest of our blindly programmed genes comes into conflict with our values and even our self-interest, the genes win out.

Our ancestors of the year one thousand were infinitely poorer in terms of material goods, but richer spiritually than we are. Most of them lived in dark, cold hovels without any furniture, often went hungry, and had very little to call their own. If they were able to walk through an average suburban home of today, they would think they had stumbled into a dream palace. On the other hand, whereas our age believes that we are the descendants of apes clinging to a precariously wobbling little planet adrift in a mechanical universe, they believed themselves to be the favorite creatures of an omnipotent God who sent his only Son to die so that they could live forever in eternal bliss.

This worldview gave our ancestors a consoling sense of destiny, a feeling of self-assurance. Even the many nonbelievers and the numerous recreants wallowing in mortal sin could feel that their lives were protected by a safety net. No matter what they did during their lives, at the last moment before death an act of faith could restore them to a state of grace and assure eternal happiness. Our ancestors saw themselves as protagonists of a universal drama. In contrast, we, in the words of Jacques Monod, live in a “frozen universe of solitude.” Stripped of our elders’ illusions, we are also deprived of their faith.

Is this another illustration, then, of the saying “ignorance is bliss”? Were past ages happier because of their illusions? Altho...