## The Elephant in the Brain ### The Elephant in the Brain  #### Metadata * Author: [[Robin Hanson]] * Full Title: The Elephant in the Brain * Category: #books #### Highlights * Here is the thesis we'll be exploring in this book: We, human beings, are a species that's not only capable of acting on hidden motives—we're designed to do it. Our brains are built to act in our self-interest while at the same time trying hard not to appear selfish in front of other people. And in order to throw them off the trail, our brains often keep "us," our conscious minds, in the dark. The less we know of our own ugly motives, the easier it is to hide them from others. (Location 180) * When consumers are asked why they bought an expensive watch or high-end handbag, they often cite material factors like comfort, aesthetics, and functionality. But Veblen argued that, in fact, the demand for luxury goods is driven largely by a social motive: flaunting one's wealth. (Location 216) ^2a948a * Because humans are an animal species, we can learn a lot about ourselves by studying other animals (and even plants, as we'll see in the next chapter). In fact, it can be especially useful to study other species because we have fewer preconceptions about them. Think of it as a "training wheels" exercise, if you will. (Location 340) * •   Most primates spend far more time grooming each other than necessary for keeping their fur clean.3 Gelada (Location 362) * •   Even more puzzling is the fact that primates spend a lot more time grooming each other than they spend grooming themselves.6 If the only purpose of grooming were hygiene, we'd expect to see more self-grooming in proportion to social grooming. (Location 367) * Social grooming, he says, isn't just about hygiene—it's also about politics. By grooming each other, primates help forge alliances that help them in other situations. (Location 374) * An act of grooming conveys a number of related messages. The groomer says, "I'm willing to use my spare time to help you," while the groomee says, "I'm comfortable enough to let you approach me from behind (or touch my face)." (Location 376) * Gelada baboons, for example, might be able to keep their fur clean with only 30 minutes of social grooming every day, but instead they spend 120 minutes. (This seems similar to a human showering four times a day.) Only politics explains why the geladas spend those additional, seemingly unnecessary 90 minutes. (Location 396) * Male babblers arrange themselves into rigid dominance hierarchies. The alpha male, for example, consistently wins in small squabbles with the beta male, who in turn consistently wins against the gamma male. (Location 406) * At first glance, these activities appear straightforwardly altruistic (i.e., self-sacrificing). A babbler who takes a stint at guard duty, for example, foregoes his own opportunity to eat. Likewise, a babbler who attacks an enemy assumes risk of serious personal injury. On more careful inspection, however, these activities turn out not to be as selfless as they seem. (Location 411) * The answer, as Zahavi and his team have carefully documented, is that altruistic babblers develop a kind of "credit" among their groupmates—what Zahavi calls prestige status. This earns them at least two different perks, one of which is mating opportunities: Males with greater prestige get to mate more often with the females of the group. A prestigious alpha, for example, may take all the mating opportunities for himself. But if the beta has earned high prestige, the alpha will occasionally allow him to mate with some of the females.17 In this way, the alpha effectively "bribes" the beta to stick around. (Location 428) * The other perk of high prestige is a reduced risk of getting kicked out of the group. If the beta, for example, has earned lots of prestige by being useful to the group, the alpha is less likely to evict him. (Location 433) * Thus babblers compete to help others in a way that ultimately increases their own chances of survival and reproduction. What looks like altruism is actually, at a deeper level, competitive self-interest. (Location 437) * For more than a century after Charles Darwin first published his theory, for example, scientists would often appeal to "the good of the species" in order to explain seemingly altruistic animal behaviors, like the babblers volunteering for guard duty. (Location 456) * Humans are a peculiar species. We're relatively hairless, we walk on our hind legs, we dance and sing like nobody's business. We laugh, blush, and shed tears. And our babies are among the most helpless in all the animal kingdom. (Location 463) * Figure 2. Human Ancestors' Brain Volume Over Time (de Miguel and Henneberg 2001) (Location 468) * Like the drunk who loses his keys and goes looking for them only under the streetlamp "because that's where the light is," people who study human evolution are more likely to search for explanations where the light (of evidence) is good. (Location 469) * This much is common sense. But in addition to biases in the evidence itself, we are also biased in the way we approach it. In this respect, we're not so much drunk as we are vain; we want our species to be seen in the most flattering light. There are facets of our evolutionary past that we spend less time poring over because we don't like how they make us look. In this sense, our problem isn't that the light is too dim, but that it's too harsh. (Location 473) * Many of us would prefer the keys to our intelligence to be found somewhere in the pleasing light of ecological challenges, implying that our extra gray matter evolved in service of cooperation. "We grew smarter," the story would go, "so we could learn more, collaborate better against the harsh external world, and improve outcomes for everyone": win-win-win. But many signs suggest that the keys to our intelligence lie in the harsh, unflattering light of social challenges, the arena of zero-sum games in which one person's gain is another's loss. (Location 484) * The tallest living specimen towers a lofty 379 feet (115 meters) above the forest floor. Historically some may have been even taller, with evidence of redwoods reaching 400 feet (122 meters) and beyond. This is approximately the height at which capillary action ceases to work; any taller and a tree can't get water from its roots to its topmost leaves. So redwoods are, in a sense, as tall as arboreally possible. (Location 506) * But of course, that's not the right way to think about it. We didn't evolve in the meadow (metaphorically speaking); we evolved in the dense forest. And like the redwood, we weren't competing primarily against other species, but against ourselves, as shown in Figure 4. (Location 530) * "The way the brains of human beings have gotten bigger at an accelerating pace," writes Matt Ridley in his book on evolutionary biology, The Red Queen, "implies that some such within-species arms race is at work." (Location 541) * He argues that it was the arms race between lying and lie-detection that gave rise to our intelligence. (Location 546) * "Both the detection of deception and often its propagation have been major forces favoring the evolution of intelligence. It is perhaps ironic that dishonesty has often been the file against which intellectual tools for truth have been sharpened." (Location 547) * As Geoffrey Miller argues in The Mating Mind, "Our minds evolved not just as survival machines, but as courtship machines," and many of our most distinctive behaviors serve reproductive rather than survival ends. There are good reasons to believe, for example, that our capacities for visual art, music, storytelling, and humor function in large part as elaborate mating displays, not unlike the peacock's tail. (Location 578) * As with the babblers we met in the previous chapter, social status among humans actually comes in two flavors: dominance and prestige.12 Dominance is the kind of status we get from being able to intimidate others (think Joseph Stalin), and on the low-status side is governed by fear and other avoidance instincts. Prestige, however, is the kind of status we get from being an impressive human specimen (think Meryl Streep), and it's governed by admiration and other approach instincts. Of course, these two forms of status aren't mutually exclusive; Steve Jobs, for example, exhibited both dominance and prestige. (Location 584) * Another way to think about prestige is that it's your "price" on the market for friendship and association (just as sexual attractiveness is your "price" on the mating market). (Location 602) * Chickens too have a dominance hierarchy—a pecking order—but few would accuse a chicken of scheming like Machiavelli. (Location 621) * counter-threats, betrayals, deceptions, and even violence; there's a reason "politics" is often used as a dirty word. But it would be a huge mistake to think that politics is all arm-twisting and backstabbing. It's also full of handshaking, backscratching, and even hugging. (Location 645) * Because it's too inconvenient to take bathroom breaks in the (Location 988) # The Elephant in the Brain  ## Metadata - Author: [[Robin Hanson]] - Full Title: The Elephant in the Brain - Category: #books ## Highlights - Here is the thesis we’ll be exploring in this book: We, human beings, are a species that’s not only capable of acting on hidden motives—we’re designed to do it. Our brains are built to act in our self-interest while at the same time trying hard not to appear selfish in front of other people. And in order to throw them off the trail, our brains often keep “us,” our conscious minds, in the dark. The less we know of our own ugly motives, the easier it is to hide them from others. (Location 180) - When consumers are asked why they bought an expensive watch or high-end handbag, they often cite material factors like comfort, aesthetics, and functionality. But Veblen argued that, in fact, the demand for luxury goods is driven largely by a social motive: flaunting one’s wealth. (Location 216) - Because humans are an animal species, we can learn a lot about ourselves by studying other animals (and even plants, as we’ll see in the next chapter). In fact, it can be especially useful to study other species because we have fewer preconceptions about them. Think of it as a “training wheels” exercise, if you will. (Location 340) - •   Most primates spend far more time grooming each other than necessary for keeping their fur clean.3 Gelada (Location 362) - •   Even more puzzling is the fact that primates spend a lot more time grooming each other than they spend grooming themselves.6 If the only purpose of grooming were hygiene, we’d expect to see more self-grooming in proportion to social grooming. (Location 367) - Social grooming, he says, isn’t just about hygiene—it’s also about politics. By grooming each other, primates help forge alliances that help them in other situations. (Location 374) - An act of grooming conveys a number of related messages. The groomer says, “I’m willing to use my spare time to help you,” while the groomee says, “I’m comfortable enough to let you approach me from behind (or touch my face).” (Location 376) - Gelada baboons, for example, might be able to keep their fur clean with only 30 minutes of social grooming every day, but instead they spend 120 minutes. (This seems similar to a human showering four times a day.) Only politics explains why the geladas spend those additional, seemingly unnecessary 90 minutes. (Location 396) - Male babblers arrange themselves into rigid dominance hierarchies. The alpha male, for example, consistently wins in small squabbles with the beta male, who in turn consistently wins against the gamma male. (Location 406) - At first glance, these activities appear straightforwardly altruistic (i.e., self-sacrificing). A babbler who takes a stint at guard duty, for example, foregoes his own opportunity to eat. Likewise, a babbler who attacks an enemy assumes risk of serious personal injury. On more careful inspection, however, these activities turn out not to be as selfless as they seem. (Location 411) - The answer, as Zahavi and his team have carefully documented, is that altruistic babblers develop a kind of “credit” among their groupmates—what Zahavi calls prestige status. This earns them at least two different perks, one of which is mating opportunities: Males with greater prestige get to mate more often with the females of the group. A prestigious alpha, for example, may take all the mating opportunities for himself. But if the beta has earned high prestige, the alpha will occasionally allow him to mate with some of the females.17 In this way, the alpha effectively “bribes” the beta to stick around. (Location 428) - The other perk of high prestige is a reduced risk of getting kicked out of the group. If the beta, for example, has earned lots of prestige by being useful to the group, the alpha is less likely to evict him. (Location 433) - Thus babblers compete to help others in a way that ultimately increases their own chances of survival and reproduction. What looks like altruism is actually, at a deeper level, competitive self-interest. (Location 437) - For more than a century after Charles Darwin first published his theory, for example, scientists would often appeal to “the good of the species” in order to explain seemingly altruistic animal behaviors, like the babblers volunteering for guard duty. (Location 456) - Humans are a peculiar species. We’re relatively hairless, we walk on our hind legs, we dance and sing like nobody’s business. We laugh, blush, and shed tears. And our babies are among the most helpless in all the animal kingdom. (Location 463) - Figure 2. Human Ancestors’ Brain Volume Over Time (de Miguel and Henneberg 2001) (Location 468) - Like the drunk who loses his keys and goes looking for them only under the streetlamp “because that’s where the light is,” people who study human evolution are more likely to search for explanations where the light (of evidence) is good. (Location 469) - This much is common sense. But in addition to biases in the evidence itself, we are also biased in the way we approach it. In this respect, we’re not so much drunk as we are vain; we want our species to be seen in the most flattering light. There are facets of our evolutionary past that we spend less time poring over because we don’t like how they make us look. In this sense, our problem isn’t that the light is too dim, but that it’s too harsh. (Location 473) - Many of us would prefer the keys to our intelligence to be found somewhere in the pleasing light of ecological challenges, implying that our extra gray matter evolved in service of cooperation. “We grew smarter,” the story would go, “so we could learn more, collaborate better against the harsh external world, and improve outcomes for everyone”: win-win-win. But many signs suggest that the keys to our intelligence lie in the harsh, unflattering light of social challenges, the arena of zero-sum games in which one person’s gain is another’s loss. (Location 484) - The tallest living specimen towers a lofty 379 feet (115 meters) above the forest floor. Historically some may have been even taller, with evidence of redwoods reaching 400 feet (122 meters) and beyond. This is approximately the height at which capillary action ceases to work; any taller and a tree can’t get water from its roots to its topmost leaves. So redwoods are, in a sense, as tall as arboreally possible. (Location 506) - But of course, that’s not the right way to think about it. We didn’t evolve in the meadow (metaphorically speaking); we evolved in the dense forest. And like the redwood, we weren’t competing primarily against other species, but against ourselves, as shown in Figure 4. (Location 530) - “The way the brains of human beings have gotten bigger at an accelerating pace,” writes Matt Ridley in his book on evolutionary biology, The Red Queen, “implies that some such within-species arms race is at work.” (Location 541) - He argues that it was the arms race between lying and lie-detection that gave rise to our intelligence. (Location 546) - “Both the detection of deception and often its propagation have been major forces favoring the evolution of intelligence. It is perhaps ironic that dishonesty has often been the file against which intellectual tools for truth have been sharpened.” (Location 547) - As Geoffrey Miller argues in The Mating Mind, “Our minds evolved not just as survival machines, but as courtship machines,” and many of our most distinctive behaviors serve reproductive rather than survival ends. There are good reasons to believe, for example, that our capacities for visual art, music, storytelling, and humor function in large part as elaborate mating displays, not unlike the peacock’s tail. (Location 578) - As with the babblers we met in the previous chapter, social status among humans actually comes in two flavors: dominance and prestige.12 Dominance is the kind of status we get from being able to intimidate others (think Joseph Stalin), and on the low-status side is governed by fear and other avoidance instincts. Prestige, however, is the kind of status we get from being an impressive human specimen (think Meryl Streep), and it’s governed by admiration and other approach instincts. Of course, these two forms of status aren’t mutually exclusive; Steve Jobs, for example, exhibited both dominance and prestige. (Location 584) - Another way to think about prestige is that it’s your “price” on the market for friendship and association (just as sexual attractiveness is your “price” on the mating market). (Location 602) - Chickens too have a dominance hierarchy—a pecking order—but few would accuse a chicken of scheming like Machiavelli. (Location 621) - counter-threats, betrayals, deceptions, and even violence; there’s a reason “politics” is often used as a dirty word. But it would be a huge mistake to think that politics is all arm-twisting and backstabbing. It’s also full of handshaking, backscratching, and even hugging. (Location 645) - Because it’s too inconvenient to take bathroom breaks in the (Location 988)