Emotions as compass

Outdoor teaching tents are a kind of defiance.

It has been a while since the last post. The start of a school year during a pandemic has a way of soaking up one’s attention. Daughters looking for jobs and starting their own semesters amidst a pandemic. Friends moving to new cities and starting graduate programs in the middle of a pandemic. Friends ill, brothers nurturing their own children, parents navigating potential transitions…all under the weight of our shared pandemic. It did not need to be this way, of course. In the U.S. we have a leadership that understands no laws other than grievance and the accumulation of power. A virus? Fires? Hurricanes? Wind storms? You can’t sue them away. You can’t wish them away. You can’t have a fixer pay them off or have a tabloid buy up the stories and bury them. You might try to pin the blame on someone else, hide the data and do it some more, distract, and include others in your narrative so as to hide your own failure. But the behaviors that work in human social networks — status, money, grievance, power, humiliation, deceit — they have no bearing on the forces that create pandemics. While water inexorably fills the hull of the boat, the captain from his helicopter claims that the boat is just fine, and his crew, from their own lifeboats, tell the stranded passengers how great freedom is.

Just a few thoughts.

But I will say this. I teach at a liberal arts college in New York. In the lead up to the semester, tents were erected, like domed mushrooms, across the campus. Students trickled in over August. Tested, and tested again. Professors nervously watched the news as university after university after university shut down due to Covid outbreaks. And yet, on the first day of our semester, in the early morning dew, there were the students in their masks under the tents attentive and ready. And there were the professors, masked, with their voices gently spilling out from the tents. I don’t know. It gave me chills, because in some ways in the face of nature, all we have is culture. An assertion not of power, but of accumulated hope — hope passed down from one generation to the next across centuries. “This is what I know, this is what was given to me, and I hope that you will go further.”

These are our visceral perceptions — a Compass Rose, tuned not to the earth’s magnetic fields and rotation, but to value (or need or fitness) and arousal
“Compass Rose Prague” by Mark Morgan Trinidad B is licensed under CC BY 2.0

In my last post on visceral perception, I pointed out the difficulty we have in placing these perceptions. They can appear to be free-floating; given or owned, rather than embedded. If our visceral perceptions are particularly difficult to place within our psyche’s maps, perhaps it might help to consider them as less a feature of a space and more as a type of compass. If our exteroceptive perception is like a bed, our interoceptive perceptions are the IKEA instructions on how to assemble the bed, clean the bed, sleep in the bed. Let’s unpack this idea.

We all know that our perception of taste is somehow “for” ingestion. Or to use the language I’ve been proposing: taste informs and constructs beliefs about sweetness, saltiness, sourness, and so forth. These beliefs mediate our navigation through a landscape of ingestible items. I write this while eating a chocolate walnut cookie and savoring the chalky, musky sweetness that I recognize as chocolate, a cultural artifact born of agriculture, fermentation and global supply chains. Similarly we recognize that our perception of touch relates to and constructs beliefs about comfort, warmth, safety, object qualities, and pain. In Harlow’s famous studies young monkeys preferred “surrogate mothers” that felt a particular way. Any of us that had a favorite blanket or stuffed animal as a kid, will remember that touch was a significant contributor to the safety that was experienced from the object. We know that our perception of vision concerns beliefs about distance, size, color, shape, and so forth.

Does the child perceive depth? Does the child fear the perceived cliff? We know that visual perception is for one of these. But where does the fear come from? What is the origins of its perception?
“File:NIH visual cliff experiment (cropped).png” by From Gibson and Walk (1960). Copyright 1960 Nature Publishing Group. is licensed under CC BY 4.0

Consider for example, the visual cliff experimental paradigm. Here, an animal (or young child) is placed on a small platform, a portion of which has a strong pattern covering its surface, and a portion of consists of a piece of plexiglass with the same pattern in view on the floor below. A caregiver stands on the other side of the plexiglass, and beckons for the animal / child to approach. The experimental paradigm has primarily been used to examine when perceptions of depth 1) develop and / or 2) when they relate to beliefs about safety. 

But notice what I did with each of my examples. Chocolate was not only tasted but “savored.” Touch did’t simply relate to texture but to “comfort.” And vision doesn’t simply perceive depth (itself a constructed belief), but also relate to feelings of “risk / safety.” Savoring, comfort, and risk — these are feelings, visceral perceptions that in one form or another layer on top of the world a personal sense of relative value.

So, let’s start bluntly and simply. What type of perception are feelings? They are the category of perceptions that relate to and construct our beliefs about value and arousal. 

Let’s get a bit clearer on terms. By value, here, I roughly mean valence or desirability of a perceived situation – the degree of pleasantness / unpleasantness. When something produces a perception that has a positive valence, then we “want” it. We “appreciate” it. We “enjoy,” “like,” “envy,” and / or “covet” it. Conversely, when we perceive a negative valence about a feature of the external world, we “hate” it. We find it “unpleasant,” “obnoxious,” “nasty” and / or “unsatisfying.” In either case we engage in behaviors that will maintain, protect and nurture features with a positive valence, and we engage in behaviors that eliminate, avoid, and alter features with a negative valence. 

Aside 1: By the way, dissatisfaction with the one’s self suggests that we perceive our selves as an external object much like we perceive a slice of cake as an object. There is the perception; and there is the feeling. Whether and when self-perception arises is a fascinating question. Does a child perceive itself as an external object amenable to alteration? Does an elephant or a dolphin? On the other hand, this says nothing about the emotional valence attached to the purported self (beyond self preservation). After all, one one of the tropes of adolescence is the emergence of a visceral perceptions of worth that layer value beliefs onto the self. It’s a complicated topic, but if you are interested start here, here, and here. For the purposes of this blog post, though, lets just recognize that the perception of a self is a separate perception than the visceral beliefs that we experience relative to that self. As ever, too, we should expect variation around these two categories of perception. Some aspects of sociopathy (i.e., antisocial personality disorder) and narcissistic personality disorder, for example, might suggest differences in certain normative, visceral perceptions of their selves (for Narcissism, for sociopathy ]

From Reiss and Marino (2001). Figure 4 with caption as follows:
“Mark-directed behavior by subject to a real mirror immediately after release from being marked. A narrow Plexiglas mirror, 41.9 cm × 101.6 cm × 0.32 cm is affixed in a vertical orientation to the exterior of one of the reflective walls (Wall 6). During this session, the mirror was the best reflective surface in the subject’s environment. The faint white line on the wall indicates the location of mirror. (B) The dolphin at Wall 1, the best reflective surface in the session, exhibiting late sham-directed behavior: a continuous and repetitive sequence of 12 dorsal-to-lateral-ventral flips exposing the location of the sham-marked area of his body, the underside and tip of the right pectoral fin, to the reflective surface. This unusual behavioral sequence continued for 32 sec.”

Back to our terms, though. If value refers to valence, to what does arousal refer?  Arousal refers to the relative energetic readiness of the individual. This readiness might be actual or expected. For example, we might find something incredibly enjoyable, but find ourselves simultaneously in a state of low arousal. Everything is finished and nothing needs to be done! Think of lying in a comfortable bed on a Saturday, knowing that you don’t have the day off, for example. Similarly, we might find something incredibly enjoyable, but find ourselves in a state of high arousal. Think being in the zone while playing basketball or jumping up and down at a live show or going on a rollercoaster. Conversely, we might feel a situation as unpleasant, while being mildly aroused. Think boredom or mild irritation directed at a housemate who forgot to pick up a requested item from the grocery store while out running errands. What though if the housemate regularly forgets to pick up requested items? Well here, the expected energetic output is going to be higher. After all it will take more energy to alter the situation. Irritation becomes anger. Or think of the anxiety connected with being unprepared for a talk that is a month away vs. the panic triggered by a dream in which you are unprepared for a talk that needs to be given in a few minutes (while only partially dressed, of course). 

From Russell (1980) Figure 2. This is a best-fit interpretation of subjects rating the relative similarity of the listed emotion terms.

Using the dimensions of value and arousal, psychologists have been somewhat successful in categorizing a broad array emotions. Here is a statistical map created by James Russell in 1980. I say statistical, because it is a map that provides the mathematically simplest categorization of 28 “emotional” terms. Essentially, subjects were asked to either rate the relative similarity of terms or, in this case, to position the terms on the edge of a circle. When this is done emotional categorizations tend to be well-described by the dimensions of arousal and value / valence. More recent work has found that these two dimensions are descriptive even when more objective measures of emotionality are used (e.g., skin conductance, fMRI’s, etc.)

So, one way of approaching visceral beliefs is to hypothesize that they are for value and anticipated arousal. We might say that they layer “meaning” on top of our exteroceptive perceptions, but we should be careful with our claims. Our exteroceptive perceptions are already “meaningful” in the sense that natural selection has designed us to be a species that sees, smells, and hears particular features in of the universe. We do not see magnetic fields or polarized light and we do not hear the ultrasonic calls of bats. Without tools to aid our perception, these features of the world have no “meaning” for our species. Similarly, we are designed to “feel” the world in a particular way. We value status and social belonging and hence perceive feelings that relate to these variables as “meaningful,” while a ferret, ant, or hawk might not. Our feelings (visceral beliefs) concerning social “anxiety” or “covetousness” or “validation” might be psychologically real, but they are ultimately as arbitrary as the color red. In other words, our interoceptive perception doesn’t add meaning so much as orient our selves to the meaning that natural selection has embedded within our psyches.

A Clarification of Terms

In my recent posts I have been using the term “feelings” as interchangeable with “visceral beliefs” and with “emotions.” Let’s be a bit more careful. I am using “feelings” in the colloquial sense as a placeholder for what someone might term emotions and drives. Emotions are perceptions that we label “happiness,” “sadness,” “jealousy,” “anger,” “depression,” “anxiety,” and so forth, while drives are perceptions that we label “hunger,” “thirst,” “lust,”etc. Personally, I think that there are good reasons to lump emotions and motivations into a single perceptual category.  I’m fully aware, though, that visceral “feelings” encompass many more phenomena than just emotions and motivations. For example, here is a “map of subjective feelings” produced by Nummenmaa et al (2018).

From Nummenmaa et al (2018). Figure 2. In the analytical vernacular, this figure is given by both an average distance analysis and a cluster analysis. Colored points indicate statistically significant clusters (grey being non-clustered or neutral.

Dizziness, headaches, memorizing a list of terms, and daydreaming all possess particular visceral qualities – in other words, these sensations feel a particular way. The same goes for the sensation of forgetting something previously remembered. In their study, Nummenmaa et al suggest that these visceral feelings can be meaningfully categorized (using a variety of measures) and distinguished from other “feelings” such as anger and hunger. 

I don’t necessarily agree with Nummenmaa et al’s clustering and terminology, and I have issues with some of their methodology. For example, we’ll see in a few posts that “wanting” needs to be distinguished from “pleasure,” despite the fact that they are placed within a single cluster here. Also, the study crudely collapses the proprioceptive qualities of behaviors (e.g., eating, shivering, breathing) with language categorized, interoceptive qualities of visceral states (gratitude, despair, sympathy). However, the point of the Nummenmaa et al’s article is well-taken. Our psyches engage in quite a bit of visceral perception. In fact, on some level all perception is visceral, given that it is instantiated in the biology of our bodies. Those philosophers who would distinguish “feelings” from “rationality” would do well to consider whether rationality isn’t simply a particular state of feeling. Similarly, those moralists who would separate body from soul based on the subjective qualities of a “religious experience” would do well to remember that the subjective experience of a religious experience is housed in the body. This says nothing about the origins of those perceptions. If I see a UFO, then it is possible that I am seeing a legitimate alien craft, and if I feel touched by a god, it is possible that I have legitimately been touched by a god. On the other hand, these perceptions, though subjectively real, might be illusions, delusions, or the random firings of neurons during a dream.

For the purposes of the current set of blog posts, though, when I refer to “feelings,” I am using the terms as synonymous to “emotions” / “motivations.” And when I refer to “visceral beliefs,” or “visceral perception,” I am also referring to emotions / motivations. I am not simply using the term emotions, though, because my point is to anchor this concept within both perception and the body. Emotions are perceptions of the body – but not a body as a piece of meat, but a body as a nexus of evolutionary and contextual pressures.

Emotions as Weather

First ever image of a black hole. This single image involved the collaboration of astronomers across multiple continents, language groups, and cultures. It involved analytical and technological frameworks developed across generations. Credit: Event Horizon Telescope Collaboration

As a psychologist I sometimes experience despair about the human condition. Our species is capable of imagining possibilities beyond the capabilities of any other species on the planet. Of this there is no doubt. I say this as someone who studies comparative cognition and is well-aware that non-human animals have mental capabilities that generally exceed our expectations (e.g., see here, here, here, and here). That said, we humans are extreme in our capabilities. Indeed, for all we know, our imaginations exceed anything in the universe. We can imagine a telescope lens with the diameter of the planet and use it to create a photo of a black hole 53 million light years away. (By the way, here is an explanation of why the image matches general predictions.) Heck, we can imagine that black holes exist in the first place. We can construct narratives that guide the application of pigments to the Sistine Chapel. We can control the flow of electrons and electromagnetic waves so that words appear on a computer screen and our garage doors open with the press of a button. And we can imagine an ethics that centralizes healing, sustainability and human dignity and we can strive to use this ethics as the organizing principle for our behavior. These are some of the things that our species has shown itself to be capable of. 

And yet recently folks around the U.S. were claiming that the corona virus is a hoax and were going on ANTIFA witch hunts. Here, is a bus belonging to a bunch of hippies being impounded by police out of “ANTIFA paranoia.” The owners of the bus did nothing but peacefully show up to help BLM demonstrators. And here is a U.S. senator, who should know better, cravenly joining in on the hysteria. It’s easy to laugh at this sort of silliness. Except that when laughter meets violence, violence tends to win. Consider Bethel, Ohio on June 14, 2020. After a group decided to hold a march in solidarity with national Black Lives Matter protests, biker gangs and others descended on the town.

Sunday’s protest, billed as Bethel’s Solidarity with Black Lives Demonstration, was expected to have a turnout of 80 to 100 people. But soon, per a joint statement by the village’s mayor, chief of police and administrator, “several motorcycle gangs, back the blue groups, and second amendment advocates” caught wind of the event and decided to show up, armed with guns and bats.

An hour before the event was scheduled to begin, village officials said, 250 motorcycles flooded the area. By the protest’s official start time, the demonstrators were outnumbered and around 800 people were present.


Link to Story

Guns and bats to “counter” a march in support of basic human dignity. Why? Or for that matter, why almost 100 years ago did a mob of white residents rage through Tulsa, Oklahoma in a pogrom of racial murder and burnings? Why 23 years before that did almost the same thing take place in Wilmington, NC – a white supremacist coup d’etat that saw the murder and expulsion of black residents from the community?

This image is a screen capture taken from someone filming a portion fo the Bethel protest / counter-protest. It appears to show a crowd of “bikers” that have confronted a woman. After back and forth shoving, she is punched to the ground. Original video here.

I’d be the last person to claim that there are easy answers to these questions. At the same time, though, it’s imperative that we at least look for answers. In this post I’ll consider the possibility that part of what’s going on is related to our emotional perceptions and how they influence our explicit reasoning and behavior.  

As I’ve pointed out in previous posts our beliefs about the world are constructed as a set of interlocking maps – maps that at a neurological level describe supply chains of assembly, but also maps at the psychological level that describe the construction and association of our perceptual beliefs with potential actions and outcomes. If I “see” an object to be a particular size, then I prepare actions to interact with the object in a particular way. Similarly, if I “see” a group of individuals as a threat to my community, then I will prepare a set of actions to interact with that threat. In both cases, my perception might be incorrect. The object might not be the size I perceive it to be. The perceived threat might not exist. The problem, of course, is that the origins of our beliefs – be they feelings or visual arrays – are often opaque to us. Further, we cannot simply wish our perceptions away. To hark back to the famous yellow / blue dress – if you see the dress as blue, you cannot simply wish to see it as yellow. Similarly, if you feel an emotion, you cannot simply wish that emotion away. Perception does not work this way. 

I have suggested that perception IS belief. This is true of our classic five senses, but it is also true of visceral perceptions like hunger, vertigo, anger, depression, anxiety, and so on. These visceral perceptions are visceral beliefs. When I “feel” hungry, I believe that I am hungry. When I “feel” angry, I believe that I am angry. 

One of the yawning holes to be filled in psychology, though, stems from the poverty of tools we possess for understanding visceral beliefs. We might be able to take our telescope out and see Jupiter. We can measure its contours, take a photo, and describe its colors. We can read about its moons and how radiation and gravity from the planet rips at Europa. A feeling, though. What is it, exactly? What are its dimensions? How does it fit into the landscape of the psyche? On to what does it map? How does it behave? It’s as if we’ve been given the keys to a machine that can kill us, but we don’t know which buttons and levers do what.

Weather or emotional conflagration?
“Chicago Weather Center radar: Aug. 23, 2011” by Amy Guth is licensed underCC BY 2.0

Or, to switch metaphors and broaden the scope, the psychological science of emotions is akin to being a meteorologist 200 years ago. An individual, a community, and a country have emotional systems that roil and impact the social landscape. Like a weather map of cold fronts and storms, visceral beliefs converge, dissipate, and ravage, but also like weather visceral beliefs are predictable. We just don’t know enough. In this sense “guns and bats” are less “crazy” than sadly predictable. As are massacres, degradations, and brutality. Our tools for seeing, measuring and mitigating these storms is at its infancy, which is ironic given the relative importance for understanding this sort of perception as compared to, say, understanding how our sense of color comes about. 

So, let’s spend of moment to unpack a few ways that our visceral perceptual system, i.e., our feelings, are unique relative to our more well-known perceptual systems. I’m going to just pull out three attributes: assignment-of-credit, valuation, and the role feelings play in post-hoc reasoning.

On Being a Neighbor

The other week I was having lunch with a friend. This was just as fear of the COVID-19 pandemic was beginning its tidal flow here in the U.S. – an approaching moon’s gravity pulling at our collective conscious. My friend asked me what I thought it would mean to be a “good neighbor” during a pandemic. It’s a great question: what does it mean to be a good neighbor? Here is Mr. Rogers’ version of the question:

I have always wanted to have a neighbor just like you,
I’ve always wanted to live in a neighborhood with you.

So let’s make the most of this beautiful day,
Since we’re together, we might as well say,
Would you be mine?
Could you be mine?
Won’t you be my neighbor?

Won’t you please,
Won’t you please,
Please won’t you be my neighbor?

The request to be a neighbor is a question of values, not beliefs. To answer Mr. Roger’s question in the affirmative is to choose a value, because to choose to be a neighbor is something independent of feelings. In fact values, as I am defining them, exist in spite of feelings. Let me explain what I mean.

In many of the posts I’ve put up on this blog so far, I have spoken of beliefs. I’ve suggested that perceptual illusions exist because of “beliefs,” and that reflexes exist as “beliefs,” and that emotions are “visceral beliefs.” When a doctor taps my knee, and my foot jerks forward, this behavior shows a “belief” that maps the stretch of a ligament with falling. When I see the Mueller-Lyer lines as being of unequal length, this judgment shows a “belief” that maps angles to depth. And when I feel fear or anger or disgust, these are visceral beliefs that map a situation to perceptions of particular types of risk and that elicit avoidance / elimination behaviors. 

Here is an important distinction, though: beliefs are not the same as values. 

A belief is a perceptual conjecture or a hypothesis about the causal structure of the world – one that originates from each individual’s unique set of experiences and/or our species’ shared evolutionary experiences. Beliefs are inferences updated (or not) from experience. Values, though, are aspirational. They are less a conjecture about the world, and more a hope for the world. This is a crucial point, especially when it comes to our emotions / feelings. So let me state it again: feelings (visceral beliefs) are not values.

We have visceral beliefs, i.e., “feelings,” that pertain to status, relative self-importance, relative need for resources, and so on. If I feel that I am of a higher status than another individual, I might also feel that my needs are more important, or that actions that harm that other person are justified. These beliefs are not so much chosen as they are free-floating in the contingencies of our environments. (Remember, “contingencies” refer to the selective forces of history). Just as we don’t choose to see a visual illusion, we don’t, in the moment, choose our feelings. They simply happen.

Feelings or values?
A group of teenage girls scream obscenities in front of their Montgomery, Alabama school against desegregation, 1963. (Photo by © Flip Schulke/CORBIS/Corbis via Getty Images). Used with permission.

Values, though, are those principles which we have self-chosen, from within the boundaries of our individual contexts, of course. They define how we would like to act. They are our ideals — the person we would hope to be. 

Values might coincide with visceral beliefs (feelings) and/or they might conflict with these beliefs. It is easy to be gracious from a position of strength. Less so from a position of vulnerability. This is why Rambert in the section from The Plague says, “You two,” he said, “I suppose you’ve nothing to lose in all this. It’s easier, that way, to be on the side of the angels.” Rambert, remember, has been seeking to escape the quarantine of the plague in order to return to his love in Paris. He is stating that it is easy for the Rieux and Tarrou to courageously stay and take care of the sick because they have no cost. In this sense, their beliefs align with their values. For Rambert, though, the visceral love he feels for his wife is at odds with staying to help combat the plague. At the end of the section I provided in the last post he learns that he is mistaken.

I bring this up because crises trigger feelings – some heroic and some shameful. We have leaders inciting fear and directing it at others. So, we have President Trump speaking of the “China Virus,” we have Secretary of State Pompeo speaking of the “Wuhan Virus,” we have senators darkly hinting that SARS-CoV-2 was released from a secret Chinese lab, and we have accusations from Chinese officials that covid-19 was brought to China by the American military. Closer to home (for me, at any rate), we see individuals attempting to escape the horror of widespread, indiscriminate death by linking it to “positives.” So, the President of Vassar College recently tweeted out “How many lives has coronavirus saved in China due to less pollution? Ironic” (Tweet has since been deleted). To her credit she immediately apologized, and I suspect she regrets the feelings that motivated the original posting. Further, it is also quite possibly feelings that lead one to “smugly” point out that the “Spanish Flu” that killed millions world-wide in the early 20th c. occurred in Kansas, or suggest that isn’t it ironic that the terrorist attacks of 9/11/2001 momentarily decreased oil consumption because of the aviation shutdown. As if this helps anything — raises one’s status or makes one appear more knowledgeable.

Again, to refer back to the quote from The Plague, it is indeed like a single record that gets played over and over and over. Blame. Diversion. Dry intellectualization. The desire to be “right.” However, I would be hesitant to judge any of these reactions. After all, although the the reactions are perhaps problematic, they are also tragically human — behaviors, comments, and tweets driven by the machinery of our Homo sapien psyches.

Here, after all, is the reality of the COVID-19 pandemic in Italy. Warning, the video shows individuals suffering…it also shows doctors and nurses doing their part to care for those who are suffering. And here is an image that shows a row of military vehicles lined up along an Italian street. Are they bringing in needed resources? No. They are carrying away bodies.

And here is an image of Dr. Li Wenliang, who died in the service Chinese patients, many of whom also succumbed from COVID-19. As Rieux says in The Plague, “There’s no question of heroism in all this. It’s a matter of common decency. That’s an idea which may make some people smile, but the only means of righting a plague is common decency.”

These images evoke feelings, and some of those feelings are unpleasant, meaning our psyches recoil and search for ways to escape their input. Blame. Raise the drawbridge. Dehumanize. Ignore. Become wary. And these reactions may in fact align with one’s values. They do not, though, align with values that recognize every individual, regardless of status and tribe membership, as unique, valued and equally bounded by death. Values centered on healing, self-sacrifice, and the preciousness of our limited time, rather than self-protection and self-aggrandizement.

Does psychology have anything to say about this interaction of “feelings” and values? It does actually, and I’ll get to that in the next post.