Joan’s mind abounds with varied self-models—Joans past, Joans present and future Joans; some represent remnants of previous Joans, while others describe what she hopes to become; there are sexual Joans and social Joans, athletic and mathematical Joans, musical and political Joans, and various kinds of professional Joans.
Thus each person has a variety of ‘sub-personalities,’ each of which may have some control over different sets of resources and goals, to be used when playing different—so that each has somewhat different ways to think. However, all of one’s sub-personae will generally share most of one’s skills and bodies of commonsense knowledge. However, conflicts among those sub-personalities can lead to problems because some of them might make rash decisions, while others might try to take over and maintain control.
For example, suppose that Joan is working at her professional job—but suddenly some social part of her mind reminds her of a time when she was trapped in an awkward relationship. She tries to shake off those memories, only to find herself thinking in childish ways about how her parents would view her present behavior. Thus Joan’s thoughts might oscillate among such varying self-images as:
A partner in a business,
A person who likes to do research,
One with a certain collection of values,
A member of a family,
A person involved in a love affair,
A person having a pain in her knee.
In the course of such trains of everyday thinking, we frequently switch between different self-models, whose various outlooks may not be consistent, because we use them for different purposes. This means that when Joan needs to make a decision, the result will partly depend upon which sub-personalities are active then. A Business Self might be inclined to choose the option that seems more profitable; an Ethical Self might want to select the that suits her ideals ‘best’; a Social Self might want to select the one that would most please her friends. For example, when we identify ourselves as members of a social group, then we can share their triumphs and failures with exuberance or remorse, and thus exhibit concern, compassion, and empathy. Thus, as we said in Chapter §1, each major change in emotional state may display a different sub-personality:
When a person you know has fallen in love, it’s almost as though someone new has emerged—a person who thinks in other ways, with altered goals and purposes. It’s almost as though a switch had been thrown, and a different program has started to run.
Whenever we switch among sub-personalities, we are likely to change our ways to think—but because the context remains the same, we will still maintain some of the same of priorities, goals, and inhibitions, some contents of short-term memories, and some of our currently active Mental Critics.
However, some such changes may be larger, and we often hear sensational stories about persons who switch between totally different personalities. However, while such extremes are exceedingly rare, everyone undergoes changes of mood in which one exhibits somewhat different sets of intentions, behaviors and traits. Some of these shifts will be transiently brief, while others will be more persistent—but in each case, the sub-personality that is now in control will influence the views and goals that you use and pursue, and may claim that these are the views and goals of what it believes to be the ‘genuine’ You.
The Sense of Personal Identity
Augustine, Bishop of Hippo: “Of what nature am I? A life various, manifold, and vast. Behold in the numberless halls and caves, in the countless fields and dens and caverns of my memory, full without measure of numberless kinds of things— present there either through images as all bodies are; or present in the things themselves as are our thoughts; or by some notion or observation as our emotions are, which the memory retains though the mind feels them no longer...”
In everyday contexts it often makes sense to think of one’s Self as a permanent thing. But to what extent are you the same as you were ten minutes ago? Or are you like a carving knife that has had both its handle and blade replaced?
You’re certainly not like the text of a book whose pages remain eternally unchanged; your ‘contents’ keep changing moment to moment. Nevertheless over months and years, enough of your knowledge remains the same—and different enough from anyone else’s—that we recognize your stability. For one can argue that our ‘identities’ are mainly what’s in our memories.
“A man is often willing to say that this is the same person who did something in the past, not on the basis of knowing that it is the same body but on a quite different basis—that the person recounts the past situation with great accuracy, exhibits similar personal reactions, and displays the same skills.”—Encyclopedia Britannica.
A mind is an assembly of parts that each performs different activities. Each may have conflicting concerns and goals, which sometimes can only be resolved by turning off some participants. But then, when you change the way you think, what would it mean to say that you’re still the same? Of course, that depends on how you describe yourself. To some of your models of yourself, significant parts of you will have changed—whereas, to some of your other models, you may remain unchanged. Consequently, it won’t often make sense to ask what your Identity is. Instead, it usually would be better to ask, which of your models of yourself would best serve your present purposes.
“Our brains appear to make us seek to represent dependencies. Whatever happens, where or when, we’re prone to wonder who or what’s responsible. This leads us to discover explanations that we might not otherwise imagine, and that helps us predict and control not only what happens in the world, but also what happens in our minds. But what if those same tendencies should lead us to imagine things and causes that do not exist? Then, perhaps that strange word ‘I’—as used in ‘I just had a good idea’—reflects the selfsame tendency. If you’re compelled to find some cause that causes everything you do-why, then, that something needs a name. You call it ‘me.’ I call it ‘you.’”
§9-2. Personality Traits
“Whatever you say something is, it is not.”
If you asked Joan to describe herself, she might say something like this:
Joan: “I think of myself as disciplined, honest, and idealistic. But because I am awkward at being sociable, I try to compensate by trying to be attentive and friendly, and when that fails, by being attractive.”
Similarly, if you were to ask Charles to describe his friend Joan, he might declare that she is helpful, tidy, and competent, but somewhat lacking in self-confidence. Such descriptions are filled with everyday words that name what we call “character traits” or “characteristics”—such as disciplined, honest, attentive, and friendly. But what could make it possible for someone to describe a person at all? Why should minds so complex as ours show any clear-cut characteristics? Why, for example, should anyone tend to be usually neat or usually sloppy—rather than tidy about some things but not about others? Why should personal traits exist at all? Here are some possible causes for the appearance of such uniformities: