Iconoclast: A Neuroscientist Reveals How to Think Differently (2 page)

• Perception

• Fear response

• Social intelligence

Naysayers might suggest that the brain is irrelevant for iconoclasm. I have heard this argument many times. It is rooted in a sort of Cartesian mind-body dualism that separates human decision making from the messiness of the physical body, as if the mind somehow existed separately from our imperfect, and sometimes animalistic, bodies. But the fact that we have bodies, that we occupy defined physical spaces, that we need to fuel these bodies and, from time to time, reproduce them, leads to massive constraints on how our minds function. The field of neuroeconomics was born out of the realization that the physical workings of the brain place limitations on the way we make decisions. By understanding these constraints, we begin to understand human behavior and why some people seem to march to a different drumbeat.

The first thing to realize is that the brain is mortal. It is a physical organ that consumes energy and performs feats of astounding complexity that we are just now beginning to understand. But the brain, like any machine, suffers the constraint of limited resources. The brain has
a fixed energy budget. It can’t demand more power from the energy company when it needs to do something complicated. So it has evolved to do what it does as efficiently as possible. This is where the problem arises for most people and is the biggest impediment to being an iconoclast.

For example, when confronted with information streaming from the eyes, the brain will interpret this information in the quickest and most efficient way possible. Time is energy. The longer the brain spends performing some calculation, the more energy it consumes. Considering that the brain runs on about 40 watts of power (a lightbulb!), it doesn’t have a lot of energy to spare. So it must be efficient. This means that it will draw on both past experience and any other source of information, such as what other people say, to make sense of what it is seeing. This happens all the time. The brain takes shortcuts in the interest of efficiency. It works so well that we are hardly ever aware of this process. What eventually bubbles to the surface of consciousness is an image in the “mind’s eye.” We take for granted that our perceptions of the world are real, but they are really specters of our imagination, nothing more than biological and electrical rumblings that we believe to be real.

How you perceive something is not simply a product of what your eyes or ears transmit to your brain. More than the physical reality of photons or sound waves, perception is a product of the brain. Perception lies at the heart of iconoclasm. Iconoclasts see things differently than other people. Literally. They see things differently because their brains do not fall into efficiency traps as much as the average person’s brain. Iconoclasts, either because they were born that way or because they learned how to do it, have found ways to work around the perceptual shortcuts that plague most people. By looking at how the brain transforms perception into action, we can see exactly where these physical differences emerge, and where most people’s brains fall into the trap of unoriginal thinking, and how the iconoclast’s brain is different.

Although the key process for iconoclasm is perception, this is only the beginning. As I shall explain, perception is not something that is immutably hardwired into the brain. It is a process that is learned through experience, which is both a curse and an opportunity for change. The brain faces the fundamental problem of interpreting physical stimuli that originate from the senses. Everything that the brain sees or hears or touches has multiple interpretations. The one that is ultimately chosen—the thing that is perceived—is simply the brain’s best guess at interpreting what flows into it. In technical terms, these guesses have their basis in the statistical likelihood of one interpretation over another. These guesses are heavily influenced by past experience and, importantly for potential iconoclasts, what other people say.

Fortunately, there are ways to limit the effect on perception of past experience and other people’s opinions. To see things differently than other people, the most effective solution is to bombard the brain with things it has never encountered before. Novelty releases the perceptual process from the shackles of past experience and forces the brain to make new judgments. As we shall see in the following chapters, there are many ways to accomplish this. Iconoclasts, at least successful ones, have a preternatural affinity for new experiences. Where most people shy away from things that are different, the iconoclast embraces novelty.

The problem with novelty, however, is that, for most people, novelty triggers the fear system of the brain. Fear is the second major impediment to thinking like an iconoclast and stops the average person dead in his tracks. There are many types of fear, but the two that inhibit iconoclastic thinking are
fear of uncertainty
and
fear of public ridicule
. These may seem like trivial phobias, and some people might say, “Just deal with it.” Fear of public speaking, which everyone must do from time to time, afflicts one-third of the population. This is too common to be considered a disorder or mental illness. It is simply a common variant of human nature, but it is one that gets in the way of many potential
iconoclasts. The true iconoclast, although he may still experience these fears, does not let them inhibit his actions.

Finally (assuming one has conquered perception and fear), to make the transition to successful iconoclast, the individual must sell his ideas to other people. This is where
social intelligence
comes in, and it is where Howard Armstrong ultimately failed. His inability to sell RCA on the superiority of FM radio led to a spiral of depression and his demise. Although Armstrong was an iconoclast, he couldn’t persuade the masses to his point of view, and he died without the royalties that he ultimately deserved. But rather than simply dismissing Armstrong as an unfortunate casualty of business, we can learn from his mistakes by looking at social intelligence from a biological point of view.

In the last decade, there has been an explosion of knowledge about the social brain. One of the subfields that has emerged out of the neuro-economic movement is how the brain works to coordinate decision making in groups. If you think about it, almost every decision we make must be considered in the context of how it might affect the other people in our lives. The true iconoclast does not live in a cabin in the woods. Like Armstrong, the modern iconoclast navigates a dynamic social network and elicits change that begins with altered perception and ends with effecting change in other people (or dying a failure). Recent neuroscience experiments have revealed which circuits in the brain are responsible for functions like understanding what other people think, empathy, fairness, and social identity. These brain regions play key roles in whether an individual convinces other people of her ideas. Perception plays an important role in social cognition as well. The perception of someone’s enthusiasm, or reputation, can make or break a deal. Understanding how perception becomes intertwined with social decision making shows why successful iconoclasts are so rare: social intelligence depends on perception, but perception itself is subject to social forces. We see things like other people, and the cycle is difficult to break.

Doing What Others Say Can’t Be Done

Iconoclasts have existed throughout history. A name was given to this type of person when Leo III, emperor of Constantinople, destroyed the golden icon of Christ over his palace gates in AD 725. Leo’s act of defiance against the church was to consolidate his power, but the word
iconoclast
, which means literally “destroyer of icons,” stuck. In the same vein, the modern iconoclast, whether consciously or not, acknowledges the fact that creation is also an act of destruction. To create something new, you also have to tear down conventional ways of thinking. But whether someone is successful in this enterprise depends largely on the three key circuits in the brain. When Armstrong invented FM radio, he created something that everyone else assumed couldn’t be done. Although his iconoclastic views were eventually successful in destroying the dogma of AM’s superiority, he died convinced he was a failure. But really, the only thing that failed was the social circuit in Armstrong’s brain.

So why write a book about iconoclasts? Because this is the type of person who creates new opportunities in every area from artistic expression to technology to business. The iconoclast embodies traits of creativity and innovation that are not easily accomplished by committee. He eschews authority and convention. He thumbs his nose at rules. But given the proper environment, the iconoclast can be a major asset to any organization. So whether you want to be an iconoclast or not, it is crucial for success in any field to understand how the iconoclastic mind works.

It is, of course, not easy to be an iconoclast. The iconoclast risks social and professional ostracism, frequently alienates colleagues, and must face a daily reckoning with a high likelihood of failure. He walks a tough road. And although there is a certain romantic notion to the image of the rugged individualist, who, against all odds, triumphs over conformity, the simple fact is that most people don’t want to be an iconoclast. This book won’t make you an iconoclast, but you can learn to think
a bit more iconoclastically by understanding how the three key brain circuits work. And the iconoclast can be a real asset in an organization. Even if most people don’t want to be an iconoclast, understanding how their brains work can help manage teams with iconoclastic members.

In this book, you will meet modern iconoclasts. Some are well known; others are not. Each of them, however, has accomplished something in their field of endeavor that makes them stand out as unique individuals. Most importantly, they are iconoclasts because they had to buck conventional wisdom, sometimes in the face of overwhelming criticism, and remain steadfast in their beliefs for what they perceived to be the right and true path. While inspiring in their own right, these stories serve as jumping-off points for understanding what happens in the brains of iconoclasts. For this is where the action is.

The overarching theme of this book is that iconoclasts are able to do things that others say can’t be done, because iconoclasts perceive things differently than other people. This difference in perception plays out in the initial stages of an idea. It plays out in how they manage their fears, and it manifests in how they pitch their ideas to the masses of noniconoclasts. It is an exceedingly rare individual who possesses all three of these traits. In the following chapters, the stories of iconoclasts provide lessons in how their brains, to varying degrees, implement the three key functions. Each story was chosen to exemplify one of these functions. Roll them all together, and you would have the ultimate iconoclast’s brain.

As much as writing is a solitary affair, the ideas in this book came from my interactions with a remarkable group of friends and colleagues. Within the field of neuroeconomics, I cherish the exchanges I’ve had with Dan Ariely, Peter Bossaerts, Colin Camerer, Ernst Fehr, Dan Houser, Scott Huettel, Brian Knutson, David Laibson, George Loewen-stein, Kevin McCabe, Read Montague, John O’Doherty, Elizabeth Phelps, Michael Platt, and Antonio Rangel. In the real world—that is, nonacademia—I am particularly grateful for the time and wisdom that these people have given to me: Reda Anderson, Dale Chihuly, David Dreman, Jim Lavoie, Joe Marino, and Michael Mauboussin. I am very lucky to have a wonderful group of colleagues at Emory University who encourage and stimulate unusual ways of thinking: Monica Capra, Clint Kilts, Helen Mayberg, Andrew Miller, Charles Nemeroff, Charles Nous-sair, Mike Owens, Giuseppe Pagnoni, and Charles Raison. All of the research that has been done in my lab would not have occurred without an extremely talented and inspirational group to whom I am eternally grateful: Pammi Chandrasekhar, Jonathan Chappelow, Jan Engelmann, Whitney Herron, Sara Moore, Allison Turner, and Cary Zink. Without my agent, Susan Arellano, and my editor, Jacqueline Murphy, none of this would have made it onto the page.

I owe special thanks to my daughters, Helen and Madeline, for their patience (even if they didn’t know it) with my writing time. This book is for you. And finally, to my wife, Kathleen: thanks and love for tolerating this writing expedition and for reading it before anyone should have been forced to read it!

G
LASS DEFIES DEFINITION
. At room temperature, glass takes the form of a solid, hard enough to hold its own weight, and when appropriately shaped into a container, strong enough to support other substances. But this is an illusion. It is not really solid. Chemists say that glass is a liquid but with a viscosity so high that it behaves like a solid. Raise the temperature a little bit, and its liquid nature reasserts itself. And that is where the art comes in …

Stepping into the hotshop is like entering a carnival funhouse. Completely disorienting. Before you even see what’s going on, the roar of the furnaces sounds like a jet engine on full throttle in the moments before
takeoff. The noise reverberates off the corrugated steel walls and reflects back to a skylight and bounces around the concrete floor, reaching your ears from all directions. Voices emerge from around a corner, but it’s difficult to make out what they are saying. Rising above the din, a bit of laughter here, a snatch of postmodern grunge rock there. Something smells of burning. A clean, industrial burn, not sweet like wood, or paper, or leaves.