One of the confusing things about addiction is that the addict seems to be voluntarily choosing things that are really hurtful - not just for the addict, but for the people they care most about. The same confusion comes up when we see the executives of addiction-based companies voluntarily making choices that harm their customers.

Why? We ask ourselves. How could they act that way? When we speak to the addict, or to the executive, they seem like ordinary people, not monsters.

We can dispel some of our confusion, oddly enough, by asking another question: "Why did the chicken cross the road?"

In this podcast Deep Divers Mark and Jenna talk about the difference between proximate and ultimate causes, and (as usual) conclude with a message of hope.

The behaviorist movement in psychology in the early 1900s provided a number of benefits. The behaviorists’ precise measurement of stimulus and response lent psychology a scientific cachet. And precise measurement led to the development of the technology of behavior control that has been quite valuable in a practical sense.

At the same time, the decision to ignore the subjective experience of animals introduced unnecessary confusion about our behavior. The behaviorists mistakenly believed that the power to shape habits lay outside the animal, in an objectively defined “reinforcer.”

But that wasn’t true at all. The animal’s experience of satisfaction is a direct reflection of its inborn drives – the biology underlying its behavior. The same external stimulus could be reinforcing or not depending on the animal’s drive-based interpretation. And that interpretation varied wildly depending upon the environment within which the stimulus occurs.

This fact is tremendously important for our understanding and treatment of unwanted habits – including addictions. To illustrate, Bruce Alexander’s “Rat Park” experiments convincingly demonstrated that rats are far more likely to use addictive substances when confined to cramped laboratory cages than they are when housed in richer environments. The implications for humans are profound: It's likely that our environments are a more important factor in the development of addiction than is the addictive substance.

In this podcast Deep Divers Mark and Jenna engage in a lively discussion of this topic, and conclude with a message of hope.

The word “psychology” literally means the scientific study of the mind, or psyche. A little over a century ago, psychologists were in fact avidly studying the mind, mental life, and the subjective experience of self. The most brilliant psychologists of the era – most prominently William James and Robert Woodworth – were assembling knowledge of a broad range of phenomena, pulling together concepts that cast light upon the relationship between subjective experience and overt behavior. Some – for example Ivan Pavlov and Edward L. Thorndike – were actively involved in the study of animal experience, as reflected in their behavior.

Psychologists of that era were examining evidence that the mind is not a single agent but consists of a collection of semi-independent “mini personalities” that operate much as a social system operates. To illustrate, “automatic writing” experiments provided intriguing insights into the subconscious mind and the potential existence of subsystems of personality.

Overall, these experiments suggested that automatic writing could access subconscious thoughts and emotions, supporting the idea that personality consists of multiple subsystems. This early research laid the groundwork for later studies in psychology and psychoanalysis.

Then something strange happened. American psychology abruptly abandoned the study of the psyche altogether. A new breed of psychologists closed their eyes to everything except overt behavior, pointedly refusing to discuss mind or subjective experience any further. These were the “behaviorists,” and they took over the science of psychology for more than 25 years.

How could psychology, the study of the psyche, refuse to study the psyche? Noted theorist Bernard Baars commented upon the odd intrusion of behaviorist concepts into psychology. Baars wrote, “A harsh critic might see the twentieth century as a time of lost opportunities. Psychologists could have built on the magnificent foundation of James’s Principles (1890/1983)—by wide consent the greatest psychological work in English. Instead, they chose to evade some of the most fundamental aspects of human existence.”

Finally, serious scientists have resumed the study of the mind, reclaiming the essence of psychology. And yet scientific psychology continues to suffer from what we might call a “behaviorist hangover.” What's that? It's the lasting impact of the behaviorist movement on modern psychology, even though the movement's peak influence waned decades ago.

In this podcast Deep Divers Mark and Jenna turn their attention to this issue in a lively discussion based on Tom Whitehead’s upcoming book, Reimagining Psychology.

Freud's Electra theory and the later False Memory Syndrome (FMS) idea both served to discredit women’s memories of having been sexually abused as children.

Freud’s theory held that women who remembered abuse were actually reporting their own childhood fantasies of sexual interaction with their fathers. Many decades later, as Freud's theory was losing its popularity, the FMS idea posited that therapists were implanting false memories of abuse into the minds of their clients, whether deliberately or accidentally.

But childhood sexual abuse is more than a fantasy. Hard statistics show that the Electra and FMS theories both served to suppress reports of very real abuse. During the times when these confusing theories were popular, reports of real abuse declined significantly, whether the abuse was simply a memory or indisputably backed up with evidence such as physical injury to the child or sexually transmitted disease. And as the theories went out of favor, reports of abuse returned to normal levels.

Previous episodes in this series have noted that malignant patterns in our culture can distort public awareness in a way that protects the malignant pattern. Is that what was going on here? Were these theories protecting a widespread and malignant pattern of sexual abuse of children?

In this podcast Deep Divers Mark and Jenna turn their attention to these controversial questions in a lively discussion based on Tom Whitehead’s upcoming book, Reimagining Psychology.

Parasitic patterns in behavior are self-reproducing and detrimental to both individuals and society. We can think of these rogue patterns as "behavioral screeches" They're like the feedback loop of a microphone and loudspeaker, where control is lost, and the screech becomes self-sustaining. These screechy habits are not just theoretical but are observable in animals placed in restrictive environments, leading to repetitive and purposeless behaviors.

They manifest in humans, just as they do in all other animals. We can recognize them in addiction and social media, for example. We can liken alcoholism to a hamster running on an exercise wheel, where alcohol is the wheel. The alcoholic's life situation constricts their options, making drinking the most fulfilling activity available. Similarly, social media creates informational silos that limit exposure to diverse perspectives, leading to the proliferation of harmful ideologies and behaviors. These silos act as impoverished environments, fostering parasitic habits that thrive on misinformation and extremism.

The idea of behavioral screech gives us a way to make sense of the negative effects of constricted environments on behavior. It highlights the parallels between animal behavior in captivity and human behavior in restrictive social and informational environments. We need to recognize and address these parasitic patterns to lessen their harmful impact on individuals and society.

In this podcast Deep Divers Mark and Jenna use the screech idea to explain addiction and the problems created by social media siloization using material from Tom Whitehead’s upcoming book, Reimagining Psychology.

To spend time on social media is to be bombarded with craziness. The informational silos of social media seem to amp up weirdness, bad logic, conspiracy theories, crackpot ideas, extremism and hatred. But why? The information age was supposed to bring enlightenment, not psychosis. What happened?

What happened is a business model. The craziness within informational silos generates heavy cash flow. That's because extremism makes consumer engagement compelling. Engagement translates directly into advertising dollars. It's a cash cow. Unfortunately, the bizarre behavior and distorted logic are harmful both to the individuals involved and to society at large.

What's the engine at the heart of this cash machine? The informational silos of social media closely resemble the impoverished environment within animal cages. Barren environments encourage the development of repetitive, dysfunctional, abnormally persistent habits in animals of all species. Examples include the “stable vices” of stalled horses, the incessant pacing of large cats housed in zoos, and caged rodents’ incessant “wheel running.”

Such repetitive behaviors become entrenched, taking on a life of their own. These “parasitic habits” arise because animals cannot instantiate their inborn drives normally in environments too limited to support normal habits. We humans are not exempt from parasitic habits.

The weirdness of individuals trapped within social media bubbles resembles the parasitic habits of caged animals. Metaphorically, the repetitive habits resemble the screech you hear when you move a microphone too close to the speaker amplifying the sound.

In this podcast Deep Divers Mark and Jenna explain the dysfunction created by social media bubbles in a lively discussion based on Tom Whitehead’s upcoming book, Reimagining Psychology.

Addicted individuals – alcoholics, for example – behave in ways that are counterproductive both for themselves and those they care most about. Trying to explain these rogue habits in terms of their benefit doesn’t seem to work. We need a new insight.

Oddly, comparing rogue habits to cancer may help. The way self-destructive patterns pop up in our behavior is reminiscent of the development of self-destructive cells within our bodies. Cancer provides a useful analogy for understanding the development of parasitic habits like addictions, because both involve normal components of a system that escape their regulation to become harmful to their host. Interestingly, the escape happens in a comparable way.

Cancer cells behave in sophisticated ways. But they don’t do it “on purpose.” They are a product of a mindless evolutionary process of variation and selection. Likewise, parasitic habits don't develop through a conscious choice to engage in self-destructive behavior, but through a process of variation and selection.

In this podcast Deep Divers Mark and Jenna evaluate the idea of “cancerous habits” in a lively discussion based on Tom Whitehead’s upcoming book, Reimagining Psychology.

Conventional wisdom tells us that exposure to chemical substances causes addictions. With repeated use of substances, we develop a dependence that becomes difficult to manage.

But there are problems with this simple explanation. There are far more addictions that involve no substances – so-called “process addictions” – than those that are substance related. And the process addictions look almost exactly like those that involve substances.

There’s evidence from the study of animals that the inability to express inborn drives in a natural setting leads to repetitive, stereotyped behaviors that closely resemble addictions. Horses confined to their stalls for too long or known to develop curious repetitive behaviors such as “head weaving,” “box walking,” and “wind sucking.” Once the animals fall into these behaviors, they become difficult to extinguish.

Equestrians long ago recognized the similarity between these stereotypic patterns and addictions. Tellingly, they refer to them as “stable vices.” Scientists have determined that frustrating environments, like laboratory cages or restrictive social settings, limit animals’ opportunities for the development of fulfilling habits. Every higher animal evaluated developed such stereotypical behaviors in restrictive environments. Astoundingly, substance use by animals is far more common within frustrating environments. This truth is well exemplified by Dr. Bruce Alexander’s “Rat Park studies,” where rats living in enriched environments consumed far less morphine than those confined to standard cages.

Could it be that focusing on substances is misleading? Maybe addictions are best interpreted as a distorted expression of natural drives, particularly the drive for personal fulfillment, within an environment that doesn't allow for their normal and fulfilling instantiation.

In this podcast Deep Divers Mark and Jenna evaluate this idea in a lively discussion based on Tom Whitehead’s upcoming book, Reimagining Psychology.