The Belief Engine
Our brains and nervous systems constitute a belief-generating machine, a system
that evolved to assure not truth, logic, and reason, but survival. The belief
engine has seven major components.
James Alcock - The Skeptical inquirer May 1995
The following beliefs are strongly held by large numbers of
people. Each of them has been hotly disputed by others:
- Through hypnosis, one can access past lives.
- Horoscopes provide useful information about the future.
- Spiritual healing sometimes succeeds where conventional
medicine fails.
- A widespread, transgenerational Satanic conspiracy is afoot in society.
- Certain gifted people have been able to use their psychic
powers to help police solve crimes.
- We can sometimes communicate with others via mental telepathy.
- Some people have been abducted by UFOs and then returned to earth.
- Elvis lives.
- Vitamin C can ward off or cure the common cold.
- Immigrants are stealing our jobs.
- Certain racial groups are intellectually inferior.
- Certain racial groups are athletically superior, at least in
some specific sports.
- Crime and violence are linked to the breakdown of the
traditional family.
- North Korea's developing nuclear capability poses a threat to
world peace.
Despite high confidence on the part of both believers and
disbelievers, in most instances, neither side has much -- if any --
objective evidence to back its position. Some of these beliefs, such
as telepathy and astrology, stand in contradiction to the current
scientific worldview and are therefore considered by many scientists
to be "irrational." Others are not at all inconsistent with science,
and whether or not they are based in fact, no one would consider them
to be irrational.
Nineteenth-century rationalists predicted that superstition and
irrationality would be defeated by universal education. However, this
has not happened. High literacy rates and universal education have
done little to decrease such belief, and poll after poll indicates
that a large majority of the public believe in the reality of "occult"
or "paranormal" or "supernatural" phenomena. Why should this be so?
Why is it that in this highly scientific and technological age
superstition and irrationality abound?
It is because our brains and nervous systems constitute a
belief-generating machine, an engine that produces beliefs without any
particular respect for what is real or true and what is not. This
belief engine selects information from the environment, shapes it,
combines it with information from memory, and produces beliefs that
are generally consistent with beliefs already held. This system is as
capable of generating fallacious beliefs as it is of generating
beliefs that are in line with truth. These beliefs guide future
actions and, whether correct or erroneous, they may prove functional
for the individual who holds them. Whether or not there is really a
Heaven for worthy souls does nothing to detract from the usefulness of
such a belief for people who are searching for meaning in life.
Nothing is fundamentally different about what we might think of as
"irrational" beliefs -- they are generated in the same manner as are
other beliefs. We may not have an evidential basis for belief in
irrational concepts, but neither do we have such a basis for most of
our beliefs. For example, you probably believe that brushing your
teeth is good for you, but it is unlikely that you have any evidence
to back up this belief, unless you are a dentist. You have been taught
this, it makes some sense, and you have never been led to question it.
If we were to conceptualize the brain and nervous system as a belief
engine, it would need to comprise several components, each reflecting
some basic aspect of belief generation. Among the components, the
following units figure importantly:
- The learning unit
- The critical thinking unit
- The yearning unit
- The input unit
- The emotional response unit
- The memory unit
- The environmental feedback unit.
The learning unit is the key to understanding the belief engine. It
is tied to the physical architecture of the brain and nervous system;
and by its very nature, we are condemned to a virtually automatic
process of magical thinking. "Magical thinking" is the interpreting of
two closely occurring events as though one caused the other, without
any concern for the causal link. For example, if you believe that
crossing your fingers brought you good fortune, you have associated
the act of finger-crossing with the subsequent welcome event and
imputed a causal link between the two.
Our brain and nervous system have evolved over millions of years. It
is important to recognize that natural selection does not select
directly on the basis of reason or truth; it selects for reproductive
success. Nothing in our cerebral apparatus gives any particular status
to truth. Consider a rabbit in the tall grass, and grant for a moment
a modicum of conscious and logical intellect to it. It detects a
rustling in the tall grass, and having in the past learned that this
occasionally signals the presence of a hungry fox, the rabbit wonders
if there really is a fox this time or if a gust of wind caused the
grass to rustle. It awaits more conclusive evidence. Although
motivated by a search for truth, that rabbit does not live
long. Compare the late rabbit to the rabbit that responds to the
rustle with a strong autonomic nervous-system reaction and runs away
as fast as it can. It is more likely to live and reproduce. So,
seeking truth does not always promote survival, and fleeing on the
basis of erroneous belief is not always such a bad thing to
do. However, while this avoidance strategy may succeed in the forest,
it may be quite dangerous to pursue in the nuclear age.
The learning unit is set up in such a way as to learn very quickly
from the association of two significant events -- such as touching a hot
stove and feeling pain. It is set up so that significant pairings
produce a lasting effect, while nonpairings of the same two events are
not nearly so influential. If a child were to touch a stove once and
be burned, then if the child were to touch it again without being
burned, the association between pain and stove would not automatically
be unlearned. This basic asymmetry -- pairing of two stimuli has an
important effect, while presenting the stimuli unpaired (that is,
individually) has a much lesser effect -- is important for survival.
This asymmetry in learning also underlies much of the error that
colors our thinking about events that occur together from time to
time. Humans are very poor at accurately judging the relationship
between events that only sometimes co-occur. For example, if we think
of Uncle Harry, and then he telephones us a few minutes later, this
might seem to demand some explanation in terms of telepathy or
precognition. However, we can only properly evaluate the co-occurrence
of these two events if we also consider the number of times that we
thought of Harry and he did not call, or we did not think of him but
he called anyway. These latter circumstances -- these nonpairings -- have
little impact on our learning system. Because we are overly influenced
by pairings of significant events, we can come to infer an
association, and even a causal one, between two events even if there
is none. Thus, dreams may correspond with subsequent events only every
so often by chance, and yet this pairing may have a dramatic effect on
belief. Or we feel a cold coming on, take vitamin C, and then when the
cold does not get to be too bad we infer a causal link. The world
around us abounds with coincidental occurrences, some of which are
meaningful but the vast majority of which are not. This provides a
fertile ground for the growth of fallacious beliefs. We readily learn
that associations exist between events, even when they do not. We are
often led by co-occurring events to infer that the one that occurred
first somehow caused the one that succeeded it.
We are all even more prone to error when rare or emotionally laden
events are involved. We are always looking for causal explanations,
and we tend to infer causality even when none exists. You might be
puzzled or even distressed if you heard a loud noise in your living
room but could find no source for it.
The critical-thinking unit is the second component of the belief
engine, and it is acquired -- acquired through experience and explicit
education. Because of the nervous-system architecture that I have
described, we are born to magical thinking. The infant who smiles just
before a breeze causes a mobile above her head to move will smile
again and again, as though the smile had magically caused the desired
motion of the mobile. We have to labor to overcome such magical
predisposition, and we never do so entirely. It is through experience
and direct teaching that we come to understand the limits of our
immediate magical intuitive interpretations. We are taught common
logic by parents and teachers, and since it often serves us well, we
use it where it seems appropriate. Indeed, the cultural parallel of
this developmental process is the development of the formal method of
logic and scientific inquiry. We come to realize that we cannot trust
our automatic inferences about co-occurrence and causality.
We learn to use simple tests of reason to evaluate events around us,
but we also learn that certain classes of events are not to be
subjected to reason but should be accepted on faith. Every society
teaches about transcendental things -- ghosts, gods, bogeymen, and so
on; and here we are often explicitly taught to ignore logic and accept
such things on faith or on the basis of other people's experiences. By
the time we are adults, we can respond to an event in either a
logical, critical mode or in an experiential, intuitive mode. The
events themselves often determine which way we will respond. If I were
to tell you that I went home last night and found a cow in my living
room, you would be more likely to laugh than to believe me, even
though there is certainly nothing impossible about such an event. If,
on the other hand, I were to tell you that I went into my living room
and was startled by an eerie glow over my late grandfather's armchair,
and that the room went cold, you may be less likely to disbelieve and
more likely to perk up your ears and listen to the details, possibly
suspending the critical acumen that you would bring to the cow
story. Sometimes strong emotion interferes with the application of
critical thought. Other times we are cleverly gulled.
Rationality is often at a disadvantage to intuitive thought.
The late psychologist Graham Reed spoke of the example of the
gambler's fallacy: Suppose you are observing a roulette wheel. It
has come up black ten times in a row, and a powerful intuitive
feeling is growing in you that it must soon come up red. It
cannot keep coming up black forever. Yet your rational mind
tells you that the wheel has no memory, that each outcome is
independent of those that preceded. In such a case, the struggle
between intuition and rationality is not always won by
rationality.
Note that we can switch this critical thinking unit on or off. As I
noted earlier, we may switch it off entirely if dealing with religious
or other transcendental matters. Sometimes, we deliberately switch it
on: "Hold it a minute, let me think this out," we might say to
ourselves when someone tries to extract money from us for an
apparently worthy cause.
Learning does not occur in a vacuum. We are not passive receivers of
information. We actively seek out information to satisfy our many
needs. We may yearn to find meaning in life. We may yearn for a sense
of identity. We may yearn for recovery from disease. We may yearn to
be in touch with deceased loved ones.
In general we yearn to reduce anxiety. Beliefs, be they correct or
false, can assuage these yearnings. Often beliefs that might be
categorized as irrational by scientists are the most efficient at
reducing these yearnings. Rationality and scientific truth have little
to offer for most people as remedies for existential anxiety. However,
belief in reincarnation, supernatural intervention, and everlasting
life can overcome such anxiety to some extent.
When we are yearning most, when we are in the greatest need, we are
even more vulnerable to fallacious beliefs that can serve to satisfy
those yearnings.
Information enters the belief engine sometimes in the form of raw
sensory experience and other times in the form of organized, codified
information presented through word of mouth, books, or films. We are
wonderful pattern detectors, but not all the patterns we detect are
meaningful ones. Our perceptual processes work in such a way as to
make sense of the environment around us, but they do make
sense -- perception is not a passive gathering of information but,
rather, an active construction of a representation of what is going on
in our sensory world. Our perceptual apparatus selects and organizes
information from the environment, and this process is subject to many
well-known biases that can lead to distorted beliefs. Indeed, we are
less likely to be influenced by incoming information if it does not
already correspond to deeply held beliefs. Thus, the very spiritual
Christian may be quite prepared to see the Virgin Mary; information or
perceptual experience that suggests that she has appeared may be more
easily accepted without critical scrutiny than it would be by someone
who is an atheist. It is similar with regard to experiences that might
be considered paranormal in nature.
Experiences accompanied by strong emotion may leave an unshakable
belief in whatever explanation appealed to the individual at the
time. If one is overwhelmed by an apparent case of telepathy, or an
ostensible UFO, then later thinking may well be dominated by the
awareness that the emotional reaction was intense, leading to the
conclusion that something unusual really did happen. And emotion in
turn may directly influence both perception and learning. Something
may be interpreted as bizarre or unusual because of the emotional
responses triggered.
Evidence is accumulating that our emotional responses may be triggered
by information from the outside world even before we are consciously
aware that something has happened. Take this example, provided by
LeDoux (1994) in his recent article in Scientific American (1994, 270,
pp. 50-57):
An individual is walking through the woods when she picks
up information -- either auditory, such as rustling leaves, or visual,
such as the sight of a slender curved object on the ground -- which
triggers a fear response. This information, even before it reaches the
cortex, is processed in the amygdala, which arouses the body to an
alarm footing. Somewhat later, when the cortex has had enough time to
decide whether or not the object really is a snake, this cognitive
information processing will either augment the fear response and
corresponding evasive behaviour, or will serve to bring that response
to a halt.
This is relevant to our understanding of paranormal experience, for
very often an emotional experience accompanies the putatively
paranormal. A strong coincidence may produce an emotional "zing" that
points us toward a paranormal explanation, because normal events would
not be expected to produce such emotion.
Our brains are also capable of generating wonderful and fantastic
perceptual experiences for which we are rarely prepared. Out-of-body
experiences (OBEs), hallucinations, near-death experiences (NDEs),
peak experiences -- these are all likely to be based, not in some
external transcendental reality, but rather in the brain itself. We
are not always able to distinguish material originating in the brain
from material from the outside world, and thus we can falsely
attribute to the external world perceptions and experiences that are
created within the brain. We have little training with regard to such
experience. As children, we do learn to distrust, for the most part,
dreams and nightmares. Our parents and our culture tell us that they
are products of our own brains. We are not prepared for more arcane
experiences, such as OBEs or hallucinations or NDEs or peak
experiences, and may be so unprepared that we are overwhelmed by the
emotion and come to see such experience as deeply significant and
"real" whether or not it is.
Ray Hyman has always cautioned skeptics not to be surprised should
they one day have a very strong emotional experience that seems to cry
out for paranormal explanation. Given the ways our brains work, we
would expect such experiences from time to time. Unprepared for them,
they could become conversion experiences that lead to strong
belief. When I was a graduate student, another graduate student who
shared my office, and who was equally as skeptical as I was about the
paranormal, came to school one day overwhelmed by the realism and
clarity of a dream he had had the night before. In it, his uncle in
Connecticut had died. It had been a very emotional dream, and was so
striking that Jack told me that if his uncle died anytime soon, he
would no longer be able to maintain his skepticism about
precognition -- the dream experience was that powerful. Ten years later,
his uncle was still alive, and Jack's skepticism had survived intact.
Through our own experience, we come to believe in the reliability of
our memories and in our ability to judge whether a given memory is
reliable or not. However, memory is a constructive process rather than
a literal rendering of past experience, and memories are subject to
serious biases and distortions.
Not only does memory involve itself in the processing of
incoming information and the shaping of beliefs; it is itself
influenced strongly by current perceptions and beliefs. Yet it is
very difficult for an individual to reject the products of his or
her own memory process, for memory can seem to be so "real."
Beliefs help us to function. They guide our actions and increase or
reduce our anxieties. If we operate on the basis of a belief, and if
it "works" for us, even though faulty, why would we be inclined to
change it? Feedback from the external world reinforces or weakens our
beliefs, but since the beliefs themselves influence how that feedback
is perceived, beliefs can become very resistant to contrary
information and experience. If you really believe that alien
abductions occur, then any evidence against that belief can be
rationalized away -- in terms of conspiracy theories, other people's
ignorance, or whatever.
As mentioned earlier, fallacious beliefs can often be even
more functional than those based in truth. For example, Shelley
Taylor, in her book Positive Illusions, reports research showing
that mildly depressed people are often more realistic about the
world than are happy people. Emotionally healthy people live to
some extent by erecting false beliefs -- illusions -- that reduce
anxiety and aid well-being, whereas depressed individuals to
some degree see the world more accurately. Happy people may
underestimate the likelihood of getting cancer or being killed,
and may avoid thinking about the ultimate reality of death,
while depressed people may be much more accurate with regard
to such concerns.
An important way in which to run reality checks on our perceptions and
beliefs is to compare them with those of others. If I am the only one
who interpreted a strange glow as an apparition, I am more likely to
reconsider this interpretation than if several others share the same
view. We often seek out people who agree with us, or selectively
choose literature supporting our belief. If the majority doubts us,
then even if only part of a minority we can collectively work to
dispel doubt and find certainty. We can invoke conspiracies and
coverups to explain an absence of confirmatory evidence. We may work
to inculcate our beliefs in others, especially children. Shared
beliefs can promote social solidarity and even a sense of importance
for the individual and group.
In Conclusion
Beliefs are generated by the belief engine without any automatic
concern for truth. Concern for truth is a higher order acquired
cognitive orientation that reflects an underlying philosophy which
presupposes an objective reality that is not always perceived by our
senses.
The belief engine chugs away, strengthening old beliefs, spewing out
new ones, rarely discarding any. We can sometimes see the error or
foolishness in other people's beliefs. It is very difficult to see the
same in our own. We believe in all sorts of things, abstract and
concrete -- in the existence of the solar system, atoms, pizza, and
five-star restaurants in Paris. Such beliefs are no different in
principle from beliefs in fairies at the end of the garden, in ghosts
in some deserted abbey, in werewolves, in satanic conspiracies, in
miraculous cures, and so on. Such beliefs are all similar in form, all
products of the same process, even though they vary widely in
content. They may, however, involve greater or lesser involvement of
the critical-thinking and emotional-response units.
Critical thinking, logic, reason, science -- these are all terms that
apply in one way or another to the deliberate attempt to ferret out
truth from the tangle of intuition, distorted perception, and fallible
memory. The true critical thinker accepts what few people ever
accept -- that one cannot routinely trust perceptions and
memories. Figments of our imagination and reflections of our emotional
needs can often interfere with or supplant the perception of truth and
reality. Through teaching and encouraging critical thought our society
will move away from irrationality, but we will never succeed in
completely abandoning irrational tendencies, again because of the
basic nature of the belief engine.
Experience is often a poor guide to reality. Skepticism helps us to question
our experience and to avoid being too readily led to believe what is not so. We
should try to remember the words of the late P. J. Bailey (in Festus: A
Country Town): "Where doubt, there truth is -- 'tis her shadow."
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