In defense of thinking
Writing to retain the practice of thought
Through a series of seemingly unrelated occurrences, I have arrived at the inclination to write down my thoughts – to somehow affirm to myself that I am indeed thinking, and to defend the position that we all ought to be thinking. Let me detail these occurrences in no particular order:
I was recommended to watch the show Pluribus, the latest creation of Vince Gilligan, who is the creator of Breaking Bad – one of my favourite shows. The premise of the show is fascinating: a virus has abruptly spread worldwide causing most, but not all, of humanity to connect as one hivemind. The main character of the show is immune to the virus and is forced to reckon with the new world order. The premise raises a couple of fun questions to ponder: Would you choose to join the hivemind or would your rather be immune? Would the world be better off as one hivemind or not?
I scanned the psychology shelf of Dymocks, a bookstore chain in Australia, that was bustling away during Boxing Day. Despite the shelf’s distance from the self-help shelf, there were a few books that implied from their title that thinking was the cause of our problems and that not thinking was the solution. To me, this would be no different to proposing that we take an ice pick and drive it through our frontal lobes. (A generous reading of the books’ blurbs would allow that the authors were simply providing a guide on how to prevent the stressful thoughts that our minds produce; I remain a skeptic nevertheless.)
In the same air as the bullet point above, I had various conversations with friends about their New Year’s resolutions; whilst I had spent time to reflect on what I hoped to achieve this year, many simply stated that they wanted to “survive” the year. It reminds me that many people either do not have the luxury to stop and think, or opt not to think despite being provided the opportunity. This doesn’t seem right to me. If we gave everyone a sabbatical from their daily lives, what would everyone think? Would they think?
In perusing the shelves of Amplify Bookstore in Melbourne, an independent bookstore founded by women of colour, I happened across “The Pleasure of Thinking” by Wang Xiaobo, a popular novelist in China who grew up on a state-run rural farm in the Cultural Revolution. The book is a collection of personal stories and essays with slashing wit against the indoctrination he faced, and as titled, to champion the pleasure of thinking. I found this (translated) sentence to be one of many that were particularly striking:
If God asked me to take up the responsibility of inculcating others, I would beseech Him to make me choose between that task and Hell, and I would unhesitatingly choose the latter.
His translated writings, in no small part, have inspired me to champion thinking (and this blog has been named as such).
I happen to be a cognitive neuroscientist and a tertiary educator – I am a researcher of thinking, and (am supposed to) nurture students’ thinking. I worry that people will simply offload cognitive tasks to ChatGPT or other large language models and somewhat lose the ability to wrestle with a problem in their minds – indeed, to practice thinking, rather than offload it to the beguiling and unthinking machines. I worry about the impact of attention-sucking digital technologies – how many continually fall into zombie-like trances scrolling through short-form media of pointless drivel and/or various forms of unchecked misinformation in a post-truth era. I worry that the value of a university education – to think critically and gain knowledge skills – and the value of philosophy and cognitive science will be irrecoverably diminished to societal structures that prioritise profits and capital over humanity.
I say, we ought to think. We should yearn to think. I wish to ponder meaningful and important questions. In my research life, this means spending time to reflect on what questions to answer and which theories I hope to advance, rather than simply running the next experiment and publishing papers (and resisting the work overload of an academic). In my personal life, this means tuning into society and culture, and thinking on what gives me joy in existing – enriching my relationship with my family and friends, encouraging others to keep learning and broaden one’s mind rather than absorb the slop that is produced in today’s digital age, and to leave the planet better off than when I arrived.
I don’t mean to position myself as being a thought leader; it is not my intention here to have others think exactly as I do. I certainly am not arguing for complete scientific thinking – those close to me know that I have an interest in philosophy of science and take fairly pluralistic views on what is science and what is knowledge. But I am a cognitive scientist – one purpose of my life’s work is to better understand how we think and help others think “better” or to think “more”. To me, that is a core function of the academic establishment – a population that thinks more is better protected against the tyranny of others. So here, I simply hope to set an example of thoughtful and critical inquiry to matters that are revealing to me. Perhaps this will let others access and prioritise their thinking too.