Have you ever noticed how, after receiving a compliment, you strive to be as that which you were described?
If someone comes by and tells you what a nice person you are, and that you always make time for others, you enjoy the compliment. It makes you feel good, and you like knowing that others have good feelings towards you, thanks to this quality that they see in you. And so, suddenly aware of this new reflection on your character, you make every effort to be nice and to make time for others. You want to keep feeling good, you want to keep being liked, and so you become that which you described.
The phenomenon occurs all the time. If a worker is told he is doing a good job, it encourages him to keep (or start) doing a good job. If a friend is complimented for always making time, he will continue (or begin) to make an effort to always make time. If the president is given the Nobel Peace prize, perhaps the intent is that he will begin making peace - either to eliminate the guilt felt for not yet deserving the compliment, or because he feels good and wants to continue promoting his image. The same holds true for all of us.
It poses an interesting chicken-and-egg conundrum: are people complimented on a specific personality trait because they exhibit it, or do they exhibit the trait because they enjoy having been complimented?
Diverting, briefly, to examine the chicken-and-egg question, I will note that, obviously, the chicken came first, already pregnant. Some have considered that an egg could have come first, fertilized with twins, one of each sex (if that is possible in chickens; I have no idea) - but even if this were possible (and for same-egg scenarios, I'm thinking they'd have to be identical, so perhaps not), no one would be around to incubate the egg, so it would never hatch. Contrarily, were there a pregnant chicken, it could lay, incubate, and hatch eggs. Age-old question solved.
Back to the modern inquiry, however. We know that, if someone tells you that you look good wearing that shirt, you will continue to wear that shirt, likely more often than you otherwise might. Is it too far a stretch to propose that doctors, upon telling their patients that their blood-work shows signs of improvement, actually cause the patient to (first mentally, thank physically) feel better? Might telling a student that he is a good writer encourage him to try harder to write better, so that the teacher continues to offer such compliments?
It had been noted that, in most cases, it is impossible to observe without altering the experiment. If one goes out into space to observe the gravity between a tennis ball and a basket ball, the person doing the observation inadvertently inserts their own gravity field, altering the experiment. If one observes a suspect answering questions, the suspect's knowledge of the observer (or, in the case of concealment, the possibility of a hidden observer) may alter the answers to the questions. Observation is a variable in itself.
Thereby, outwardly announcing one's observations surely does something to alter that which is being observed. Compliments, encouragements, mere statements of observation; they all serve, intentionally or otherwise, to affect the subject.
It is a very bad idea, therefore, to tell someone "keep doing it the way you're doing it." If you tell, for example, a child on a baseball team to keep pitching the way he is pitching, you've just prevented him from doing so. He is suddenly conscious both of his pitching and the fact that you are observing it. This inherently alters him. He will begin to think, "Okay, I have to do it exactly how I did it before - so what did I do?" Now he's over-thinking it! You've gone and messed everything up.
Here's another example. I am very sorry to have to do this to you, but, by dear reader: You are now conscious of your breathing. That's right. In, and out. Through the nose, maybe the mouth. Heart beating, blood flowing, lungs fill and depress, fill and depress. See that? Your breathing has altered simply because you are aware. You were doing just fine until I asked you to think about it, until I observed and, worse, made you aware of the observation.
Next we can look at the way you are sitting as you read this. Is that really good for the posture? And mightn't you be a bit thirsty? When was the last time you had anything to drink?
Observation is dangerous. What is more dangerous is being aware of the observation. But, at the same time, it's necessary. We cannot hope to live our lives blissfully unaware of the word around us. Although dangerous, it is important that we observe. Although it hurts sometimes, and sometimes there something to be lost, it is worth the risk to expand one's mind, to observe and understand and share the knowledge and thought. I certainly believe that, or I wouldn't be writing any of this down. I would be avoiding it, saving myself the trouble of thinking and struggling and yearning to understand. But that's the fun of it.
So good job. You're a very good reader. You understand so well, and I cannot thank you enough for really taking the time to read through these posts carefully, and to appreciate the messages and ideas they contain. You are very clever to understand these things, and very clever indeed to visit this blog. It is so good that you come back frequently. How very, very nice of you.
That's right, I was messing with your mind back there. I was complimenting you in the hopes that my compliments will encourage, or even develop, the traits listed. But whether or not you ever return to this blog, it is too late. You are aware. You are now aware of the possibility that observation leads to trait. You are now aware of, not only your breathing, but the breathing of the world around you. You are aware of the way our words affect one another. Maybe it's dangerous, but at least you understand.
You're so attentive, reading to the very end.
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