Jumping v Being Pushed

My recent reading contained one assertion that hit me quite hard: that people's psychology is generally such that control over their environment has more effect on their happiness than the circumstances themselves. More specifically, the author said that he had himself proved that it is possible to gain great satisfaction from leaving a well-paid job for a lesser one ... provided that you resign rather than being pushed out.

Obviously that has relevance to my current circumstances, as although all is quiet on the work side of my life, I'd be ignoring history if I thought my job was secure indefinitely. But it made me wonder more whether those who took a very deliberate step in leaving the brethren have fared better in the time since than those who were thrown out or otherwise left without it being completely their decision.

All things being equal, I can see that we tend to seek confirmation that we have made correct choices once we've made them (I remember being taught that customers tend to become repeat customers if you call them and reiterate what a great purchase they made in the days after they take delivery - they're more persuadable when they are already expending their own mental energy justifying their decision). That means that someone who has taken a drastic step, freely, will be focused on their gains, keen to grasp any evidence that emerges that says they were right to do what they did. By contrast, a person who feels disposed-of may find it so hard to see past what they have lost without having decided to do so that the same scraps of good news pass them by entirely.

Reasoning from what appears to be common sense rather than evidence proves nothing, of course, but it would be interesting to know if there is any grain of realism in that summary.

Meanwhile I take the lesson to heart myself.

Confirmation

I have a weakness for popular factual books, the kind presented as having a "big idea" or strong theme in any semi-scientific area of knowledge. This week's reading is "The Black Swan" - I've been intrigued for a while, and it has become topical again.

And I find it is one of the quite rare books that has me nodding at regular intervals and, if I was the kind of person who wrote in books, I would be underlining points quite often too. Like I saw people doing to Brethren ministry in the past. (Tangentially, the kind of brethren who leave their weekly ministry visible to visitors tend to be the kind who underline and take notes, although I wouldn't cynically want to say the two habits are connected.) Although this book is somewhat overstated in its tone, it chimes with my own outlook on life and makes me wonder why other people haven't said the same things so clearly and vocally.

The central message is that prediction is a human weakness that leads to trouble, because few things that matter are predictable and those that are predictable are swamped by other unforeseen circumstances anyway. That feels right to me. I'm forever hedging my bets because what seems obvious to others looks rather fragile to me, and yet wondering why I'm out of step.

However, there is a big irony here, and it's the main reason I mention the point at all. One of the central points the author makes about the limits of knowledge, and consequently of prediction, is about confirmation bias: the human tendency to fasten on information that fits with what one already knows or thinks while ignoring contrary facts. Here is a book that tells me I'm right to be conscious of the weakness of knowledge. So what's the use of that?

Absorbing Rules

Having spent a very large proportion of my life in the thick of a community whose main defining point is that no other communities are allowed, I have found it slightly strange to dabble in others. The most obvious ones being online.

Facebook, while handy, still feels just a little bit creepy to me, I suppose because its sole purpose is as a means of interaction between friends, and friends always feel as if they deserve more personal attention than messages on a cyberspace noticeboard. So for the moment I tend to stay semi-detached from that community. I also dabble from time to time in a photography website with lively forum pages, which is always a sign of a set of people who feel themselves to be a community, but always feel something of an outsider there as anyone who doesn't contribute on an almost hourly basis is ignored as a part-timer. I have observed that any successful forum seems to have a hard core of utterly dedicated people who feel a certain sense of ownership, and a self-developed set of more or less arcane rules and etiquettes.

Such rules seem to be necessary as a dividing line between the insiders and others, but they do vary from case to case whether the effect is to include or exclude. The photographic site I mentioned has a presumably unintentional bias towards exclusion, as do many others where the topics are subject to strong opinions. The sense I get is that you need to pay your dues in some way in order to be accepted.

But what started me thinking about this was Flickr, which is altogether different. It is designed to feel like a community, but a welcoming one, and I feel at ease with it because it's about something definite, unlike Facebook. But I have gradually become aware of subtleties that weren't immediately obvious, ways in which a joiner gradually slips into the ways of the network.

I have been posting pictures for a while now, and it gets to be mildly addictive as some get attention and others don't. And so I find I am more likely to post things similar to those that were liked before, and that begins modifying, slightly, my actions when I create in the first place. And a certain sort of caption seems to work, and so I spend a few moments more in each case thinking of that kind. And I try out groups to see where like-minded people are.

And what really struck me was that if a loose and optional community at a distance can have powerful behavioural effects that slip in almost unnoticed, it's not surprising that the all-encompassing brethren network shapes the participators' thoughts and actions to the extent it does, such that even those of us who have made a conscious decision to leave them behind find we still get tangled in the after-effects. I have always maintained that the "rules" and "control" spoken of as endemic to the brethren are rather overstated. But then when each person spends their life unconsciously adjusting to what the others think of them, maximising attention and wishing for affection and respect, control in the strict sense becomes almost superfluous.

Gathering Ahead

I have let myself in for what amounts to a party at my place, and it feels to me like one of the biggest and bravest steps I've taken. Is that because I'm just basically shy, or is it that I'm affected by the brethren mentality?

For quite a while I have wished I could get some friends together, and also that people who know me could see where I live while I live there. I have always put it off, though, because such things seem to need an excuse of some kind. Yet any kind of excuse is probably something to do with me personally, and I hate to be the focus of attention. This kind of feels like putting myself on the line, and is also a worry because having asked people to come along to my place, I have a hard time believing I can make it worth the effort for them!

As with so many things, it would be nice to know if the reticence is down to my upbringing or not. I do admire people who are equally comfortable being noticed or ignored, managing events or fitting in. It always feels like an awkward shift for me, even when I know it's required and do my best. I suspect the brethren attitude that says the self is to be suppressed in favour of the community is a hard one to dispel entirely. Going against it feels both exposing and unsafe.

Still, the die is cast, and it will be fun making arrangements, I think. I hope!