Caused Will?

From an interesting post by the social psychologist John Bargh, on the subject of free will:

So what, then, if one's will is not ‘free' of internal causation? It is still your will and my will and each is unique: a confluence of genetic heritage, early absorption of local cultural norms and values, and particular individual life experiences. After all, one can claim personal ownership of one's will just as much as one claims ownership of one's name, eye color, and birthday, and be as proud of one's will and its products as one is proud of the exploits of great-great-Grandma the pioneer, even though one's ‘free will' played no role in any of these.

Bargh, and many other social psychologists, believe that free will is a "positive illusion" our minds create, in support of "human striving." In reality, Bargh and others argue (relying on some interesting, though I would say hardly conclusive, empirical data), what we perceive as "free will" is actually the result of many unconscious processes that we have little or no conscious control over.

The linked post has links to some interesting discussion and alternative points of view.

Memory Metaphors: Memories as Pigeons

I am fascinated by memory and its role in our identities, so I am always on the lookout for talk of memory. And one of the things that fascinates me the most about memory is just how difficult to talk about directly. Most talk of memory is couched in figurative language: images, metaphors, similes, analogies. There's even a book on that subject.

I suppose the reason the reasons that memory is so difficult to talk about are twofold. First, any talk of memory requires memory: memory for concepts, memory for the words that refer to concepts, memory for what the concepts represent, and memory of memory itself: the experience of it, examples of remembering, and so on. So the very act of talking about memory is circular and muddled. The second is that we don't seem to have much conscious access to the inner workings, if you will, of memory. It's not just that we don't get to "see" how memories are stored or accessed, but even the act of triggering a memory is opaque. Why is it that seeing a particular shape or object, smelling a particular smell, or hearing a particular song, elicits the particular memories? Nothing about the experience of remembering answers this question. Or if it does, the answer is not obvious in that experience. All of this leaves memory in a cloud of vagueness and confusion. So the best way to talk about memory, at least outside of a scholarly context (and often even in a scholarly context) is to refer it to something more vivid, something more clear.

I told you all of that to tell you this. When I come across interesting metaphors for memory, I write them down in a little notebook. Today, as I was reading a book that is largely about memory, Remainder, by Tom McCarthy. It's the incredibly strange story of a man who, after being struck by a mysterious (to the reader, at least) falling object, and spending some time in a coma, has some memory issues. On several occassions, the man describes his memories coming back to him as scenes, like in a soap opera (his metaphor). That's not an entirely original metaphor, as memory has been referred to as theater for centuries, and as pictures (moving or otherwise) for some time as well. But on page 91-92, I came across a metaphor for memory that I'd never seen before, and I thought I'd share it with you. Here it is (emphasis mine):

After the accident I forgot everything. It was as though my memories were pigeons and the accident a big noise that had scared them off. They fluttered back eventually...

Memory as startled pigeons. Now that's interesting.