Why Will Power Fails

How to strengthen your self-control.

(First published August 12, 2013)

Reason in man obscured, or not obeyed,
Immediately inordinate desires,
And upstart passions, catch the government
From reason; and to servitude reduce
Man, till then free.
—John Milton, Paradise Lost

What is will power? Is it the same as delayed gratification? Why is will power “far from bulletproof,” as researchers put it in a recent article for Neuron? Why is willpower “less successful during ‘hot’ emotional states”? And why do people “ration their access to ‘vices’ like cigarettes and junk foods by purchasing them in smaller quantities,” despite the fact that it’s cheaper to buy in bulk?

 Everyone, from children to grandparents, can be lured by the pull of immediate gratification, at the expense of large—but delayed—rewards. By means of a process known as temporal discounting, the subjective value of a reward declines as the delay to its receipt increases. Rational Man, Economic Man, shouldn’t behave in a manner clearly contrary to his or her own best interest. However, as Crockett et. al. point out in a recent paper in Neuron “struggles with self-control pervade daily life and characterize an array of dysfunctional behaviors, including addiction, overeating, overspending, and procrastination.”

Previous research has focused primarily on “the effortful inhibition of impulses” known as will power. Crockett and coworkers wanted to investigate another means by which people resist temptations. This alternative self-control strategy is called precommitment, “in which people anticipate self-control failures and prospectively restrict their access to temptations.” Good examples of this approach include avoiding the purchase of unhealthy foods so that they don’t constitute a short-term temptation at home, and putting money in financial accounts featuring steep penalties for early withdrawal. These strategies are commonplace, and that’s because people generally understand that will power is far from foolproof against short-term temptation. People adopt strategies, like precommitment, precisely because they are anticipating the possibility of a failure of self-control. We talk a good game about will power and self-control in addiction treatment, but the truth is, nobody really trusts it—and for good reason.  The person who still trusts will power has not been sufficiently tempted.

The researchers were looking for the neural mechanisms that underlie precommitment, so that they could compare them with brain scans of people exercising simple self-control in the face of short-term temptation.

After behavioral and fMRI testing, the investigators used preselected erotic imagery rated by subjects as either less desirable ( smaller-sooner reward, or SS), or more highly desirable ( larger-later reward, or LL). The protocol is complicated, and the analysis of brain scans is inherently controversial. But previous studies have shown heightened activity in three brain areas when subjects are engaged in “effortful inhibition of impulses.” These are the dorsolateral prefrontal cortex (DLPFC), the inferior frontal gyrus (IFG), and the posterior parietal cortex (PPC). But when presented with opportunities to precommit by making a binding choice that eliminated short-term temptation, activity increased in a brain region known as the lateral frontopolar cortex (LFPC).  Study participants who scored high on impulsivity tests were inclined to precommit to the binding choice.

In that sense, impulsivity can be defined as the abrupt breakdown of will power. Activity in the LFPC has been associated with value-based decision-making and counterfactual thinking. LFPC activity barely rose above zero when subjects actively resisted a short-term temptation using will power.  Subjects who chose the option to precommit, who were sensitive to the opportunity to make binding choices about the picture they most wanted to see, showed significant activity in the LFPC. “Participants were less likely to receive large delayed reward when they had to actively resist smaller-sooner reward, compared to when they could precommit to choosing the larger reward before being exposed to temptation.”

Here is how it looks to Molly Crockett and her fellow authors of the Neuron article:

Precommitment is adaptive when willpower failures are expected…. One computationally plausible neural mechanism is a hierarchical model of self-control in which an anatomically distinct network monitors the integrity of will-power processes and implements precommitment decisions by controlling activity in those same regions. The lateral frontopolar cortex (LFPC) is a strong candidate for serving this role.

None of the three brain regions implicated in the act of will power were active when opportunities to precommit were presented.  Precommitment, the authors conclude, “may involve recognizing, based on past experience, that future self-control failures are likely if temptations are present. Previous studies of the LFPC suggest that this region specifically plays a role in comparing alternative courses of action with potentially different expected values.” Precommitment, then, may arise as an alternative strategy; a byproduct of learning and memory related to experiences “about one’s own self-control abilities.”

There are plenty of caveats for this study: A small number of participants, the use of pictorial temptations, and the short time span for precommitment decisions, compared to real-world scenarios where delays to greater rewards can take weeks or months. But clearly something in us often knows that, in the immortal words of Carrie Fisher, “instant gratification takes too long.” For this unlucky subset, precommitment may be a vitally important cognitive strategy. “Humans may be woefully vulnerable to self-control failures,” the authors conclude, “but thankfully, we are sometimes sufficiently far-sighted to circumvent our inevitable shortcomings.” We learn—some of us—not to put ourselves in the path of temptation so readily.


Photo Credit: http://cassandralathamjones.wordpress.com/

Book Review: Thinking Simply About Addiction

Of bicycles, swimming, and drugs.

Back when I first became interested in the science of addiction, I was fascinated by an article in Parabola magazine by Dr. Richard Sandor, a Los Angeles psychiatrist with many years of experience treating alcoholics and other drug addicts. In the article, Sandor suggested that a good deal of addictive behavior could profitably be viewed as a form of dissociation. I quoted from that article in my book about addiction, and now he has published a book of his own.

Thinking Simply About Addiction: A Handbook for Recovery, focuses on the current controversy over Alcoholics Anonymous and its 12-Step variants, and takes a reasoned, thoughtful approach to the so-called spiritual aspects of recovery.

Happily, this is not another southern California feel-good self-help tome, though the author does not shy away from tweaking the neuroscience establishment for “delving deeper and deeper into the biochemistry of the alcoholic and drug-addicted brain, endless promising a ‘cure’ and yet never quite delivering the goods.”

While acknowledging that addiction is “correctly understood as a disease,” Sandor diverges a bit from the mainstream disease theory of addiction, believing that addictions are “diseases of automaticity—automatisms—developments in the central nervous system that cannot be eliminated but can be rendered dormant.”

As examples of simple automatisms, Sandor cites bicycle riding and swimming, two behaviors it is impossible to “unlearn.” Consider swimming: If, for some reason, it became extremely dangerous for you to swim (pollution, a heart condition, sharks), the problem is that “you literally cannot choose not to swim. Your only reliable choice is to stay out of the water, to become abstinent.”

Much of the confusion over addiction, the author maintains, is that “we miss the essential quality that defines addiction as a disease: Something someone has rather than something they’re doing.”

What his addicted patients frequently tell him, Sandor writes, is that “the core experience of being addicted is powerlessness, the experience of having lost control over the use of alcohol or a drug.” As one addiction expert put it, addicts “have lost the freedom to abstain.” Like other forms of rehabilitation, says Sandor, “treatment doesn’t work or not work. The patient works. It seems obvious. If the very nature of addiction is automaticity—the loss of control—then recovery is the restoration of choice, not handing choices over to someone else.”

On controlled drinking, or a return to social drinking, Sandor writes that “studies that have followed reliably diagnosed alcoholics for long enough periods of time reveal what clinicians and AAs have known for a long time: Abstinence is necessary for recovery…. If you follow true alcoholics for years, you discover that those who continue to drink get worse and those who remain abstinent don’t. Presumably, the same is true for all other addictions.”

Problem drinkers who do return to moderate drinking “were people who had had enough problems with drinking to land in treatment but who were never physically addicted and therefore didn’t have to become abstinent in order to stop the progression of the disease.”

Where does the “Higher Power” concept fit into all this? Sandor endorses the wider view taken by many psychologists and thinkers, from Gregory Bateson to C.G. Jung. In line with his theme of keeping it simple, Sandor suggests that thinking about a Higher Power may mean coming to realize that “the body’s capacity to restore itself is part of something much larger than our operations and medications… If you like, it comes from God. If you don’t like, it comes from a Higher Power, from Nature, from five billion years of the evolution of life on Earth, from the created universe, from whatever you want to call it.”

It is the simplest of simple ideas: “We all belong to something beyond ourselves.”

Graphics Credit: www.thesecondroad.org

My Name is Roger

A famed movie critic tells his story.

Excerpted from :
“My Name is Roger, and I'm an alcoholic.”
By Roger Ebert, Chicago Sun Times
Posted on “Roger Ebert’s Journal,”
August 25, 2009.
© Sun-Times News Group

In August 1979, I took my last drink. It was about four o'clock on a Saturday afternoon, the hot sun streaming through the windows of my little carriage house on Dickens. I put a glass of scotch and soda down on the living room table, went to bed, and pulled the blankets over my head. I couldn't take it any more.
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At about this time I was reading The Art of Eating, by M. F. K. Fisher, who wrote: "One martini is just right. Two martinis are too many. Three martinis are never enough."
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In my case, I haven't taken a drink for 30 years, and this is God's truth: Since the first A.A. meeting I attended, I have never wanted to. Since surgery in July of 2006 I have literally not been able to drink at all. Unless I go insane and start pouring booze into my g-tube, I believe I'm reasonably safe. So consider this blog entry what A.A. calls a "12th step," which means sharing the program with others. There's a chance somebody will read this and take the steps toward sobriety.
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I know from the comments on an earlier blog that there are some who have problems with Alcoholics Anonymous. They don't like the spiritual side, or they think it's a "cult," or they'll do fine on their own, thank you very much. The last thing I want to do is start an argument about A.A.. Don't go if you don't want to. It's there if you need it. In most cities, there's a meeting starting in an hour fairly close to you. It works for me. That's all I know. I don't want to argue with you about it.
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I've been to meetings in Cape Town, Venice, Paris, Cannes, Edinburgh, Honolulu and London, where an Oscar-winning actor told his story. In Ireland, where a woman remembered, "Often came the nights I would measure my length in the road." I heard many, many stories from "functioning alcoholics." I guess I was one myself. I worked every day while I was drinking, and my reviews weren't half bad. I've improved since then.
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The God word. The critics never quote the words "as we understood God." Nobody in A.A. cares how you understand him, and would never tell you how you should understand him. I went to a few meetings of "4A" ("Alcoholics and Agnostics in A.A."), but they spent too much time talking about God. The important thing is not how you define a Higher Power. The important thing is that you don't consider yourself to be your own Higher Power, because your own best thinking found your bottom for you.

Photo Credit: chicagoist.com


addiction drugs alcoholics anonymous

The Cybernetics of Alcoholics Anonymous

Is there a secular Higher Power?

Hitting bottom, in A.A. terms, may come in the form of a wrecked car, a wrecked marriage, a jail term, or simply the inexorable buildup of the solo burden of drug-seeking behavior. While the intrinsically spiritual component of the A.A. program would seem to be inconsistent with the emerging biochemical models of addiction, recall that A.A.’s basic premise has always been that alcoholism and drug addiction are diseases of the body and obsessions of the mind.

When the shocking moment arrives, and the addict hits bottom, he or she enters a “sweetly reasonable” and “softened up” state of mind, as A.A. founder Bill Wilson expressed it. Arnold Ludwig calls this the state of “therapeutic surrender.” It is crucial to everything that follows. It is the stage in their lives when addicts are prepared to consider, if only as a highly disturbing hypothesis, that they have become powerless over their use of addictive drugs. In that sense, their lives have become unmanageable. They have lost control.

A.A.’s contention that there is a power greater than the self can be seen in cybernetic terms—that is to say, in strictly secular terms. As systems theorist Gregory Bateson concluded long ago after an examination of A.A principles in Steps to an Ecology of Mind:

“The ‘self’ as ordinarily understood is only a small part of a much larger trial-and-error system which does the thinking, acting and deciding... The ‘self’ is a false reification of an improperly delimited part of this much larger field of interlocking processes. Cybernetics also recognizes that two or more persons--any group of persons--may together form such a thinking-and-acting system.”

Therefore, it isn’t necessary to take a strictly spiritual view in order to recognize the existence of some kind of power higher than the self. The higher power referred to in A.A. may simply turn out to be the complex dynamics of directed group interaction, i.e., the group as a whole. It is a recognition of holistic processes beyond a single individual—the power of the many over and against the power of one. Sometimes that form of submission can be healthy. Many addicts seem to benefit from being in a room with people who understand what they have been through, and the changes they are now facing. It is useful to know that they are not alone in this. “The unit of survival—either in ethics or in evolution—is not the organism or the species,” wrote Bateson, “but the largest system or ‘power’ within which the creature lives.” In behavioral terms, A.A. enshrines this sophisticated understanding as a first principle.

Excerpted from The Chemical Carousel: What Science Tells Us About Beating Addiction by Dirk Hanson © 2008

Photo Credit:www.zazzle.com.au

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