Daniel Kahneman's Death and Eclipse
On Monday, night came twice. Both times, the crocuses closed their petals, as they always do when night falls. I don’t know if they closed before or after the ring appeared in the darkened, daytime sky. So they may not have seen the flash. They undoubtedly felt the hush that quieted my chatty toddler grandson - a hush that filled us with awe. Awe caught its breath on the red glow just before it BURST into a brilliance of all brilliances.
Joy shot through my body, delighting every cell. A few tears swelled on waves of beauty. Going into it, I had subdued expectations despite totality, because I was dedicated to keeping Mienka’s eyes safe. That part was easier than I thought it would be. The joy, however, was unexpected, as were the tears.
Five days ago, I was inundated by completely unrelated but equally unexpected tears. I was driving to a medical appointment and, as I’m keen to do when I have an hour in the car, I scrolled for a podcast. I landed on one of my favorites - Hidden Brain - because I saw Daniel Kahneman in the title. Perfect. I settled in for a good drive, accompanied by my two heroes: Shankar Vedantam and Daniel Kahneman.
I first met Kahneman's work within months, if not weeks of exiting the everyday cult I was caught in for eighteen years. My ex-special-educator brain was enamored by his thinking, both fast and slow. His seminal book, Thinking Fast and Slow, contains countless exercises and examples that prove his point: that we humans have not one, but two brains. The sooner we recognize which brain or ‘system’ is in the driver’s seat and how and when to switch from one to the other, the better off we will be.
Learning about slow and fast thinking systems was revelatory for my post-cult brain that had some serious reckoning to do: How did I, an educated, caring mother, wife, and business owner lose track of myself? How was I that lost for that long?
Understanding the basics of Kahneman’s research became a lifeline for me - one that I often throw out to others now, in cult consultations and educational presentations. As a nerdy elementary school educator I wanted an easy way to communicate Kahneman’s work so I took the risk of being preposterous and personified the two systems of thought. Jimmy is the fast-thinking system - a cheerful race car driver who loves to hedge his bets. His quick wit and ability to pivot keeps him out of trouble. He does pretty darn well in life. Maude, on the other hand, embodies our slow-thinking brain. Both introverted and sophisticated, she only comes out of her deep-thinking cave when actively called upon. Then, and only then does she come to the table with her ability to analyze with accuracy and specificity.
Kahenaman’s research reveals that we humans tend to rely too much on our quick-thinking brains in our day-to-day lives. We need to survive (making quick, unconscious decisions while driving for example) and when we’re juggling work with cooking dinner, getting the kids to do homework, and calling a sick relative. Overall, we do pretty darn well with our Jimmy brain at the wheel. The problem comes when we should slow down and call Maude to the table but we don’t. We use Jimmy to make a guess for us while Maude sits inactive, in her cave.
Back in 2014, after I snapped out of my eighteen-year trance state and left the cult, I realized that cultic, coercive environments are designed to keep us in Jimmy mode and Maude safely in her cave. The last thing a cultic leader wants is for Maude to come to the table. Because she would have questions, she discerns. She thinks critically. She calls a spade a spade.
I smiled, listening to Shankar’s heartwarming introduction to the interview, referring to Kahneman as “Danny”. But my reverie was shattered a few minutes in when he paused and said, “Danny Kahneman died on March 27th…” He kept talking but I stopped hearing. I hit pause and was overwhelmed by grief. Daniel Kahneman is dead. The tears would not stop. I wondered if I’d have to stop. A glance at the clock confirmed I needed to keep driving. One part of my brain, let’s call her Maude, committed to staying safe. My heart wept tears that seemed to have no end. For a full twenty minutes of my drive, I processed that my hero Daniel Kahenaman was gone.
The word eclipse comes from the Greek, ekleipsis, which refers to ‘abandonment’, ‘a failing’, and ‘to leave.’ Danny, you left me.
Night falls and the crocuses close their petals. I bow my head to the brilliance of your light.
PS I HOPE you will listen to my two heroes - Shankar and Danny, in a love fest of good thinking.
