Our senses detect more than 11 million units of information every second, with the eye alone capturing 10 million signals per second if we consider it as a flow of data forming continuous video clip. How much of that information do you remember? How much of it is processed at all? At best estimates, we process 40 units of information per minute. In his book Strangers to Ourselves: Discovering the Adaptive Unconscious, Timothy Wilson wonders: What happens to those 10,999,960 units of information? Isn’t there a massive design flaw when our senses can gather all that information, yet we only process a tiny fraction of it? Fortunately, we benefit from a significant portion of that information outside our conscious awareness. This article is a review of Timothy Wilson’s book, which summarizes decades of scientific research on the topic of the unconscious.
The adaptive unconscious seems like another system of thought, representing an additional layer that precedes our conscious thinking. Through specific experiments, we can understand how this system operates. For example, researchers conducted an experiment where the phrase “enemy losses” was shown to a group of people to evaluate whether it was positive or negative. Naturally, losses refer to the enemy’s losses, so the phrase should be positive, and that’s how people responded when they read it consciously. However, when the phrase was flashed so quickly that the brain processed it unconsciously, participants classified it as negative. Researchers concluded that the adaptive unconscious might lack the higher cognitive ability to understand meanings from written words.
Personality Between Consciousness and the Unconscious
Walter Mischel caused a stir in psychology, particularly in personality research, in 1968. Mischel simply demonstrated that introverts and extroverts behave differently in various social contexts. This means an introvert can become extroverted, and vice versa, depending on specific changes in the social environment or the conditions of a particular social encounter. The same applies to other social traits. The book compares the impact of this research to the story of The Emperor’s New Clothes, where the emperor was deceived into believing he was wearing the most expensive garment because it was invisible, when in reality, he was naked. But why do our personalities vary so much depending on context, and why do traditional personality questionnaires fail to detect these differences?
The reason for this variability—or the flaw in how we assess our personalities or how studies evaluate us—lies in neglecting that crucial aspect: the adaptive unconscious. The author mentions a massive book exceeding 900 pages on personality research, where only two pages addressed consciousness, and six mentioned the unconscious in a non-scientific, psychoanalytic context. There was nothing in that book about the adaptive unconscious. Instead of talking about a single personality, perhaps we should talk about two personalities. Perhaps the current scientific approach to researching personality traits—assigning and testing them—is entirely flawed. Maybe we should assign specific traits and determine how they change in different contexts, based on two types of thinking stemming from consciousness and the adaptive unconscious.
The Development of Theory of Mind in the Unconscious
Theory of mind develops early in children around the age of four. In one experiment, a man and a woman collaborate to hide a piece of candy in a box in front of a child. The man hides the candy and then leaves the room. The woman then moves it to a basket. When the man returns and can’t find the candy, the child witnesses the entire process. The child is then asked: Where will the man look, in the box or the basket? Most three-year-olds answer that the man will look in the basket, but by age four, children realize the man doesn’t know what the woman did and will look in the box where he thinks he left the candy. This way of thinking about others is known as Theory of Mind, where a person forms a theory about what others are thinking.
So far, the experiment doesn’t seem to reveal much about the unconscious. However, the second part involves observing the eye movements of three-year-olds—a critical age when theory of mind begins to develop. It was noted that some children at this age, despite saying the man would look in the basket, were looking at the box. This suggests that, unconsciously, these children were thinking something different from what they verbalized. The mismatch between what people say and other indicators is a key clue in unconscious experiments. What people say reflects their conscious knowledge, while their eyes point to implicit knowledge—the adaptive unconscious.
Defence Mechanisms Under the Adaptive Unconscious
Much of psychoanalysis relies on the concept of defence mechanisms such as repression. Defence mechanisms primarily derived from culture and our basic understanding of emotions and consciousness. Freud laid the groundwork for psychological defence mechanisms within the concept of the unconscious, and they became a cornerstone of psychology thereafter. But have they been sufficiently tested? Timothy Wilson states:
“According to the modern perspective, Freud’s view of the unconscious was far too limited. When he said that consciousness is the top of the mental iceberg, he was short of the mark by quite a bit – it may be more the size of a snowball on top of that iceberg. The mind operates most efficiently by relegating a good deal of high-level sophisticated thinking to the unconscious, just as a modern jumbo jetliner is able to fly on automatic pilot with a little or no input from the human.”
The book explains that defence mechanisms, particularly repression, don’t need to prove the existence of hidden feelings but rather the process of repressing them. For example, sexual desire toward parents. One defence mechanism is reaction formation, which posits that we may have repressed desires, but our defence manifests as a strong, opposite reaction to reject them. A common cultural example is someone holding an extreme stance against a trait they possess, such as homosexuality. This was one of the few cases that seemed testable—or so it appeared!
Researchers subjected a group of men to a questionnaire on homophobia, assigning varying degrees of homophobic attitudes. Then, they showed the men pornographic clips featuring men and women, women with women (lesbian content), and men with men (gay content), while equipping them with a device called a plethysmograph. This device measures penile circumference and, in some studies, compares male arousal to specific sexual stimuli under experimental conditions—like watching gay pornography in this case. Surprisingly, the men with the highest homophobia scores showed the most arousal to gay content compared to those with lower homophobia, despite claiming they found it entirely unarousing. But does this conclude the story, proving the adaptive unconscious aligns with Freud’s unconscious? Was this the first successful experiment to confirm the existence of defence mechanisms?
In reality, the experiment doesn’t necessarily support this. The researchers noted that while it might suggest reaction formation as a defence—lacking other scientific backing—scientific evidence supports the idea that sexual arousal increases with anxiety. Naturally, men with higher homophobia experienced greater anxiety when viewing gay content.
The Unconscious in the Brain
Joseph LeDoux’s theory, based on his experiments and work in neuroscience, posits two pathways in the brain: the high road and the low road. Mammals have two neural pathways starting from sensory receptors that transmit environmental input. Both pass through the sensory thalamus and end at the amygdala, which neuroscience believes regulates emotional responses. The amygdala connects to pathways controlling heart rate, blood pressure, and other autonomic emotional reactions. However, the two pathways don’t follow the same route.
The low road goes directly from the sensory thalamus to the amygdala, while the high road first passes through the cortex—responsible for processing information and thinking—before reaching the amygdala. The high road is slower but involves precise information processing. For instance, if you’re walking alone in nature and encounter a long, dark object resembling a snake, the low road quickly sends that information to the amygdala, triggering a fear response—possibly unconsciously, before you’re fully aware of what you’re seeing. Later, you scrutinize it consciously and realize it’s not a snake.
This mechanism serves as an efficient, rapid alarm system in animals. But can it apply to all emotions and situations? Is it particularly sensitive to negative emotions?
Antoine Bechara and colleagues conducted an experiment measuring skin conductance in people playing a card game with four decks. Decks A and B led to larger gains or losses, while decks C and D resulted in smaller gains or losses. The researchers didn’t inform participants of this, but as the game progressed, players began avoiding decks A and B and showed higher stress when drawing from them. This experiment supports the scientific conclusion that negative information is processed differently and in different brain areas than positive information. But does the unconscious primarily handle negative events? There’s a prevailing scientific belief that it at least acts as a monitoring or guarding point for negative information.
The Adaptive Unconscious and Emotions
Alexithymia, or emotional blindness, is a neuropsychological condition classified as a psychological disorder or trait affecting up to 10% of people, more commonly men than women. Individuals with alexithymia struggle to identify, express, or trace the source of their emotions. It’s linked to attachment issues and interpersonal relationship problems. It’s thought to stem from dysfunction in the brain’s right hemisphere, possibly due to factors like childhood trauma or oppression, and is more common in autistic individuals. From the adaptive unconscious perspective, its impact on the unconscious may not be significant. The book cites a case of a woman with alexithymia crying over a character’s death in a movie. When her therapist asked if it might relate to her mother’s recent passing, she denied it. Alexithymia is an extreme form of emotional unconsciousness, but as the author suggests, we all experience some degree of emotional blindness.
The persistence of emotions in the adaptive unconscious isn’t the only significant phenomenon in the emotion-unconscious relationship. The book discusses how we gradually normalize negative or positive emotions. Studies of people who experienced tragedies—like the death or loss of a loved one—initially thought the pain would last indefinitely. However, over time, their emotions softened through a normalization process, sometimes fading almost entirely. Positive emotions follow a similar pattern. The book cites an extreme case of a lottery winner repeatedly interviewed by the media. Thirty years later, he wished he hadn’t won. The author likens this to physiological responses accompanying intense joy—like changes in pulse or blood pressure—which, if prolonged, might not benefit the body.
Strangers to Ourselves
The scope of the unconscious and its influence on how we perceive ourselves—or what experiments can test—doesn’t end here. Sometimes we think we can fully understand ourselves through objective checklists of desires and dislikes, only to be surprised by our ignorance. Yet how can signs we don’t notice—on our faces or in body language—reveal our desires to a stranger?
The book recounts a story of two psychologists creating a list of desired features for a house they wanted to buy. They updated the list as they toured properties with real estate agents, treating it like a psychological study with a 7-point scale for traits like the kitchen or garden. They assumed they’d calculate an average score for each house to decide what they’d like. But they were astonished by the limitations of this approach compared to the real estate agent’s method.
The agent paid little attention to their list, surprising them with properties that didn’t match their initial criteria—sometimes a rural house, then an urban one, a large house, or a small one. She read their emotional reactions to different features, deducing what they truly wanted. A couple told an agent they wanted an old house and not a new one, but she noticed their happy reactions to new homes. In this way, the psychologists ended up buying a house they never expected to love. Can others know us better than we know ourselves?
Indeed, the book provides other examples where strangers assess a person’s mood or traits based on minimal clues. Often, strangers’ evaluations were more accurate than individuals’ self-assessments and closer to their unconscious emotional state. Perhaps this inspired the book’s title, Strangers to Ourselves.
Transference and the Unconscious
Transference is a psychoanalytic concept with a modern twist in some scientific psychology fields, though definitions vary. In psychoanalysis, transference involves projecting feelings from a parent onto another person, typically the therapist. Psychoanalysis delves into its details, considering transference central to psychotherapy, especially when the therapist assumes that role in the patient’s mind. But does modern science validate this version of transference?
Psychologist Susan Andersen, specializing in social and personality psychology, studied transference. In one study, she asked participants to describe close individuals and their traits. Later, they received a list of people with specific characteristics, some subtly resembling those close individuals. For example, you might describe your wife’s traits, and Andersen would use that to craft a character sharing 3 out of 10 traits with her. Andersen found that participants remembered and focused more on those resembling their loved ones, evaluating them similarly. For instance, you might dislike someone sharing traits with your father if you dislike him.
Andersen suggests participants weren’t consciously aware of this, proposing that it’s not specifically tied to parents, as Freud thought, but a common brain process of recognizing patterns in significant people and applying them to others. It’s a pattern-matching process, not requiring psychoanalytic concepts like repression or anxiety management. Modern science explains this more broadly as a core function of the adaptive unconscious, without needing complex psychoanalytic interpretations.
Can Subliminal Messages Persuade Our Unconscious?
After all this, you might wonder: Can subliminal messages be planted to convince us of something unknowingly? This was a mid-20th-century conspiracy theory claiming governments or marketers could embed messages in our minds. But experiments attempting this found the ability to plant subliminal messages is highly limited.
First, recall the study where “enemy losses” was processed unconsciously as negative due to the adaptive unconscious’s limited cognitive capacity. This doesn’t mean subliminal messaging is impossible. In one experiment, negative words flashed quickly with images of people influenced participants’ evaluations. However, this is nearly impossible in real-world settings like TV or videos, where factors like lighting, distance from the screen, and distractions heavily interfere with subliminal message delivery.
For these reasons, subliminal messaging in marketing campaigns has proven ineffective. Conversely, traditional advertisements have a far greater, more obvious impact on consumer behavior and voter choices in elections. We all see, follow, and recognize their presence.
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