Daniel Goleman (1) [616364]

EMOTIONAL
INTELLIGENCE
WHY IT CAN MATTER MORE THAN IQ
DANIEL GOLEMAN
From the
Library of Unviolent
Revolution
UnviolentPeacemaker
at ThePirateBay

BLOOMSBURY3/661

For Tara, wellspring of emotional wisdom

Contents
Aristotle's Challenge
PART ONE
THE EMOTIONAL BRAIN
1. What Are Emotions For?
2. Anatomy of an Emotional Hijacking
PART TWO
THE NATURE OF EMOTIONAL INTELLIGENCE
3. When Smart Is Dumb
4. Know Thyself
5. Passion's Slaves
6. The Master Aptitude
7. The Roots of Empathy
8. The Social Arts
PART THREE
EMOTIONAL INTELLIGENCE APPLIED
9. Intimate Enemies
10. Managing with Heart
11. Mind and Medicine
PART FOUR

WINDOWS OF OPPORTUNITY
12. The Family Crucible
13. Trauma and Emotional Relearning
14. Temperament Is Not Destiny
PART FIVE
EMOTIONAL LITERACY
15. The Cost of Emotional Illiteracy
16. Schooling the Emotions
Appendix A: What Is Emotion?
Appendix B: Hallmarks of the Emotional Mind
Appendix C: The Neural Circuitry of Fear
Appendix D:W.TGrant Consortium: Active In-
gredients of Prevention Programs
Appendix E: The Self Science Curriculum
Appendix F:Social and Emotional Learning:
Results
Notes
Acknowledgments6/661

Aristotle's Challenge
Anyone can become angry —that iseasy. But to
beangry with theright person, totheright de-
gree, attheright time, fortheright purpose, and
in the right way —this is not easy.
ARISTOTLE ,The Nicomachean Ethics
Itwas anunbearably steamy August afternoon inNew
York City, thekind ofsweaty day that makes people sul-
lenwith discomfort. Iwas heading back toahotel, and
asIstepped onto abus upMadison Avenue Iwas
startled bythedriver, amiddle-aged black man with an
enthusiastic smile, who welcomed me with afriendly,
"Hi! How you doing?" asIgot on, agreeting he
proffered toeveryone else who entered asthe bus
wormed through thethick midtown traffic. Each passen-
ger was asstartled asI,and, locked into the morose
mood of the day, few returned his greeting.
But asthebus crawled uptown through thegridlock, a
slow, rather magical transformation occurred. The
driver gave arunning monologue forourbenefit, alively
commentary onthepassing scene around us:there was
aterrific sale atthat store, awonderful exhibit atthis
museum, did you hear about the new movie that just
opened atthat cinema down the block? His delight in

therich possibilities thecity offered was infectious. By
thetime people gotoffthebus, each inturn had shaken
offthesullen shell they had entered with, and when the
driver shouted out a"So long, have agreat day!" each
gave a smiling response.
The memory ofthat encounter hasstayed with mefor
close totwenty years. When Irode that Madison Avenue
bus, Ihad just finished my own doctorate inpsycho-
logy—but there was scant attention paid inthepsycho-
logy oftheday tojust how such atransformation could
happen. Psychological science knew little ornothing of
the mechanics ofemotion. And yet, imagining the
spreading virus ofgood feeling that must have rippled
through thecity, starting from passengers onhisbus, I
saw that this bus driver was anurban peacemaker of
sorts, wizardlike inhispower totransmute thesullen ir-
ritability that seethed inhispassengers, tosoften and
open their hearts a bit.
In stark contrast, some items from this week's paper:
•Atalocal school, anine-year-old goes onarampage,
pouring paint over school desks, computers, and print-
ers, and vandalizing acarintheschool parking lot.The
reason: some third-grade classmates called him a"baby"
and he wanted to impress them.
•Eight youngsters arewounded when aninadvertent
bump inacrowd ofteenagers milling outside a8/661

Manhattan rap club leads toashoving match, which
ends when one ofthose affronted starts shooting a.38
caliber automatic handgun into the crowd. The report
notes that such shootings over seemingly minor slights,
which areperceived asacts ofdisrespect, have become
increasingly common around the country inrecent
years.
•For murder victims under twelve, says areport, 57
percent ofthe murderers aretheir parents orsteppar-
ents. Inalmost half thecases, theparents saythey were
"merely trying todiscipline thechild." The fatal beatings
were prompted by"infractions" such asthechild block-
ing the TV, crying, or soiling diapers.
•AGerman youth isontrial formurdering five Turk-
ishwomen and girls inafirehesetwhile they slept. Part
ofaneo-Nazi group, hetells offailing tohold jobs, of
drinking, ofblaming hishard luck onforeigners. Ina
barely audible voice, hepleads, "Ican't stop being sorry
for what we've done, and I am infinitely ashamed."
Each day's news comes tousrife with such reports of
thedisintegration ofcivility and safety, anonslaught of
mean-spirited impulse running amok. But the news
simply reflects back tousonalarger scale acreeping
sense ofemotions outofcontrol inour own lives and in
those ofthepeople around us.Noone isinsulated from9/661

this erratic tide ofoutburst and regret; itreaches into all
of our lives in one way or another.
The last decade has seen asteady drumroll ofreports
like these, portraying anuptick inemotional ineptitude,
desperation, and recklessness inour families, our com-
munities, and our collective lives. These years have
chronicled surging rage and despair, whether inthe
quiet loneliness oflatchkey kids left with aTVfora
babysitter, orinthe pain ofchildren abandoned, neg-
lected, orabused, orintheugly intimacy ofmarital viol-
ence. Aspreading emotional malaise can beread in
numbers showing ajump indepression around the
world, and inthereminders ofasurging tide ofaggres-
sion—teens with guns inschools, freeway mishaps end-
inginshootings, disgruntled ex-employees massacring
former fellow workers. Emotional abuse, drive-by
shooting, and post-traumatic stress allentered the
common lexicon over the last decade, asthe slogan of
the hour shifted from the cheery "Have anice day" to
the testiness of "Make my day."
This book isaguide tomaking sense ofthesenseless-
ness. Asapsychologist, and forthe last decade asa
journalist forThe New York Times, Ihave been tracking
theprogress ofourscientific understanding oftherealm
oftheirrational. From that perch Ihave been struck by
two opposing trends, one portraying agrowing calamity10/661

inour shared emotional life, the other offering some
hopeful remedies.
WHY THIS EMOTION NOW
The last decade, despite itsbad news, has also seen an
unparalleled burst ofscientific studies ofemotion. Most
dramatic are the glimpses ofthe brain atwork, made
possible byinnovative methods such asnew brain-ima-
ging technologies. They have made visible forthe first
time inhuman history what hasalways been asource of
deep mystery: exactly how this intricate mass ofcells
operates while wethink and feel, imagine and dream.
This flood ofneurobiological data lets usunderstand
more clearly than ever how thebrain's centers foremo-
tion move ustorage ortotears, and how more ancient
parts ofthebrain, which stir ustomake war aswell as
love, arechanneled forbetter orworse. This unpreced-
ented clarity ontheworkings ofemotions and their fail-
ings brings into focus some fresh remedies forour col-
lective emotional crisis.
Ihave had towait tillnow before thescientific harvest
was fullenough towrite this book. These insights areso
late incoming largely because the place offeeling in
mental life has been surprisingly slighted byresearch
over the years, leaving the emotions alargely unex-
plored continent forscientific psychology. Into this void11/661

has rushed awelter ofself-help books, well-intentioned
advice based atbest onclinical opinion but lacking
much, ifany, scientific basis. Now science isfinally able
tospeak with authority tothese urgent and perplexing
questions ofthe psyche atitsmost irrational, tomap
with some precision the human heart.
This mapping offers achallenge tothose who sub-
scribe toanarrow view ofintelligence, arguing that IQis
agenetic given that cannot bechanged bylife experi-
ence, and that ourdestiny inlifeislargely fixed bythese
aptitudes. That argument ignores themore challenging
question: What can wechange that will help our chil-
dren fare better inlife? What factors areatplay, forex-
ample, when people ofhigh IQflounder and those of
modest IQdosurprisingly well? Iwould argue that the
difference quite often lies inthe abilities called here
emotional intelligence, which include self-control, zeal
and persistence, and theability tomotivate oneself. And
these skills, asweshall see, can betaught tochildren,
giving them abetter chance tousewhatever intellectual
potential the genetic lottery may have given them.
Beyond this possibility looms apressing moral imper-
ative. These aretimes when thefabric ofsociety seems
tounravel atever-greater speed, when selfishness, viol-
ence, and ameanness ofspirit seem toberotting the
goodness ofour communal lives. Here theargument for12/661

theimportance ofemotional intelligence hinges onthe
link between sentiment, character, and moral instincts.
There isgrowing evidence that fundamental ethical
stances inlifestem from underlying emotional capacit-
ies.Forone, impulse isthemedium ofemotion; theseed
ofallimpulse isafeeling bursting toexpress itself inac-
tion. Those who areatthemercy ofimpulse—who lack
self-control—suffer amoral deficiency: The ability to
control impulse isthebase ofwill and character. Bythe
same token, the root ofaltruism lies inempathy, the
ability toread emotions inothers; lacking asense of
another's need ordespair, there isnocaring. And if
there areany two moral stances that our times call for,
they are precisely these, self-restraint and compassion.
OUR JOURNEY
Inthis book Iserve asaguide inajourney through these
scientific insights into theemotions, avoyage aimed at
bringing greater understanding tosome ofthemost per-
plexing moments inour own lives and inthe world
around us.The journey's end istounderstand what it
means—and how—to bring intelligence toemotion. This
understanding itself can help tosome degree; bringing
cognizance tothe realm offeeling has an effect
something like the impact ofan observer atthe13/661

quantum level inphysics, altering what isbeing
observed.
Our journey begins inPart One with new discoveries
about the brain's emotional architecture that offer an
explanation ofthose most baffling moments inour lives
when feeling overwhelms allrationality. Understanding
theinterplay ofbrain structures that rule our moments
ofrage and fear—or passion and joy—reveals much
about how welearn the emotional habits that can un-
dermine our best intentions, aswell aswhat wecan do
tosubdue our more destructive orself-defeating emo-
tional impulses. Most important, theneurological data
suggest anopportunity forshaping our children's emo-
tional habits.
The next major stop onour journey, Part Two ofthis
book, isinseeing how neurological givens play out in
the basic flair forliving called emotional intelligence:
being able, forexample, torein inemotional impulse; to
read another's innermost feelings; tohandle relation-
ships smoothly—as Aristotle put it,therare skill "tobe
angry with theright person, totheright degree, atthe
right time, fortheright purpose, and intheright way."
(Readers who arenot drawn toneurological detail may
want to proceed directly to this section.)
This expanded model ofwhat itmeans tobe"intelli-
gent" puts emotions atthecenter ofaptitudes forliving.14/661

Part Three examines some key differences this aptitude
makes: how these abilities can preserve our most prized
relationships, ortheir lack corrode them; how themar-
ketforces that arereshaping ourwork lifeareputting an
unprecedented premium onemotional intelligence for
on-the-job success; and how toxic emotions put our
physical health atasmuch risk asdoes chain-smoking,
even asemotional balance can help protect our health
and well-being.
Our genetic heritage endows each ofuswith aseries
ofemotional set-points that determines our tempera-
ment. But thebrain circuitry involved isextraordinarily
malleable; temperament isnot destiny. AsPart Four
shows, the emotional lessons welearn aschildren at
home and atschool shape theemotional circuits, mak-
ingusmore adept—or inept—at thebasics ofemotional
intelligence. This means that childhood and adolescence
are critical for setting down the essential emotional
habits that will govern our lives.
Part Five explores what hazards await those who, in
growing tomaturity, fail tomaster the emotional
realm—how deficiencies in emotional intelligence
heighten aspectrum ofrisks, from depression oralifeof
violence toeating disorders and drug abuse. And itdoc-
uments how pioneering schools are teaching children15/661

theemotional and social skills they need tokeep their
lives on track.
Perhaps the most disturbing single piece ofdata in
this book comes from amassive survey ofparents and
teachers and shows aworldwide trend forthe present
generation ofchildren tobemore troubled emotionally
than the last: more lonely and depressed, more angry
and unruly, more nervous and prone toworry, more im-
pulsive and aggressive.
Ifthere isaremedy, Ifeel itmust lieinhow wepre-
pare ouryoung forlife. Atpresent weleave theemotion-
aleducation ofour children tochance, with ever more
disastrous results. One solution isanew vision ofwhat
schools can dotoeducate the whole student, bringing
together mind and heart intheclassroom. Our journey
ends with visits toinnovative classes that aim togive
children agrounding inthebasics ofemotional intelli-
gence. Ican foresee aday when education will routinely
include inculcating essential human competencies such
asself-awareness, self-control, and empathy, and the
arts of listening, resolving conflicts, and cooperation.
InThe Nicomachean Ethics, Aristotle's philosophical
enquiry into virtue, character, and the good life, his
challenge istomanage our emotional life with intelli-
gence. Our passions, when well exercised, have wisdom;
they guide our thinking, our values, our survival. But16/661

they can easily goawry, and dosoalltoooften. AsAris-
totle saw, theproblem isnotwith emotionality, butwith
theappropriateness ofemotion and itsexpression. The
question is,how can webring intelligence toour emo-
tions—and civility toour streets and caring toour com-
munal life?17/661

PART ONE
THE EMOTIONAL BRAIN

1
What Are Emotions For?
Itiswith theheart that one sees rightly; what is
essential is invisible to the eye.
ANTOINE DE SAINT- EXUPÉRY ,
The Little Prince
Ponder thelast moments ofGary and Mary Jane Chaun-
cey, acouple completely devoted totheir eleven-year-
olddaughter Andrea, who was confined toawheelchair
bycerebral palsy. The Chauncey family were passengers
onanAmtrak train that crashed into ariver after a
barge hitand weakened arailroad bridge inLouisiana's
bayou country. Thinking first oftheir daughter, the
couple tried their best tosave Andrea aswater rushed
into thesinking train; somehow they managed topush
Andrea through awindow torescuers. Then, asthecar
sank beneath the water, they perished.1
Andrea's story, ofparents whose last heroic actisto
ensure their child's survival, captures amoment ofal-
most mythic courage. Without doubt such incidents of
parental sacrifice fortheir progeny have been repeated
countless times inhuman history and prehistory, and
countless more inthelarger course ofevolution ofour

species.2Seen from theperspective ofevolutionary bio-
logists, such parental self-sacrifice isinthe service of
"reproductive success" inpassing onone's genes tofu-
ture generations. But from the perspective ofaparent
making adesperate decision inamoment ofcrisis, itis
about nothing other than love.
Asaninsight into the purpose and potency ofemo-
tions, this exemplary actofparental heroism testifies to
therole ofaltruistic love—and every other emotion we
feel—in human life.3Itsuggests that our deepest feel-
ings, our passions and longings, are essential guides,
and that our species owes much ofitsexistence totheir
power inhuman affairs. That power isextraordinary:
Only apotent love—the urgency ofsaving acherished
child—could lead aparent tooverride the impulse for
personal survival. Seen from theintellect, their self-sac-
rifice was arguably irrational; seen from theheart, itwas
the only choice to make.
Sociobiologists point tothepreeminence ofheart over
head atsuch crucial moments when they conjecture
about why evolution has given emotion such acentral
role inthehuman psyche. Our emotions, they say, guide
usinfacing predicaments and tasks too important to
leave tointellect alone—danger, painful loss, persisting
toward agoal despite frustrations, bonding with amate,
building afamily. Each emotion offers adistinctive20/661

readiness toact; each points usinadirection that has
worked well tohandle the recurring challenges ofhu-
man life.4Asthese eternal situations were repeated and
repeated over our evolutionary history, the survival
value ofour emotional repertoire was attested tobyits
becoming imprinted inour nerves asinnate, automatic
tendencies of the human heart.
Aview ofhuman nature that ignores the power of
emotions issadly shortsighted. The very name Homo
sapiens, the thinking species, ismisleading inlight of
thenew appreciation and vision oftheplace ofemotions
inourlives that science now offers. Asweallknow from
experience, when itcomes toshaping our decisions and
our actions, feeling counts every bitasmuch—and often
more—than thought. Wehave gone toofarinemphasiz-
ingthevalue and import ofthepurely rational—of what
IQmeasures—in human life. Intelligence can come to
nothing when the emotions hold sway.
WHEN PASSIONS OVERWHELM
REASON
Itwas atragedy oferrors. Fourteen-year-old Matilda Cr-
abtree was just playing apractical joke onher father:
shejumped outofacloset and yelled "Boo!" asherpar-
ents came home atone inthe morning from visiting
friends.21/661

But Bobby Crabtree and hiswife thought Matilda was
staying with friends that night. Hearing noises ashe
entered thehouse, Crabtree reached forhis.357 caliber
pistol and went into Matilda's bedroom toinvestigate.
When hisdaughter jumped from the closet, Crabtree
shot herintheneck. Matilda Crabtree died twelve hours
later.5
One emotional legacy ofevolution isthefear that mo-
bilizes ustoprotect our family from danger; that im-
pulse impelled Bobby Crabtree togethisgun and search
his house for the intruder hethought was prowling
there. Fear primed Crabtree toshoot before hecould
fully register what hewas shooting at,even before he
could recognize his daughter's voice. Automatic reac-
tions ofthis sort have become etched inournervous sys-
tem, evolutionary biologists presume, because foralong
and crucial period inhuman prehistory they made the
difference between survival and death. Even more im-
portant, they mattered forthe main task ofevolution:
being able tobear progeny who would carry onthese
very genetic predispositions—a sad irony, given the
tragedy at the Crabtree household.
But while our emotions have been wise guides inthe
evolutionary long run, the new realities civilization
presents have arisen with such rapidity that the slow
march ofevolution cannot keep up. Indeed, the first22/661

laws and proclamations ofethics—the Code ofHammur-
abi, theTen Commandments oftheHebrews, theEdicts
ofEmperor Ashoka—can beread asattempts toharness,
subdue, and domesticate emotional life. AsFreud de-
scribed inCivilization and ItsDiscontents, society has
had toenforce from without rules meant tosubdue tides
of emotional excess that surge too freely within.
Despite these social constraints, passions overwhelm
reason time and again. This given ofhuman nature
arises from the basic architecture ofmental life. In
terms ofbiological design forthebasic neural circuitry
ofemotion, what weareborn with iswhat worked best
forthelast 50,000 human generations, notthelast 500
generations—and certainly not the last five. The slow,
deliberate forces ofevolution that have shaped ouremo-
tions have done their work over thecourse ofamillion
years; the last 10,000 years—despite having witnessed
therapid rise ofhuman civilization and theexplosion of
the human population from five million tofive bil-
lion—have leftlittle imprint onour biological templates
for emotional life.
For better orforworse, ourappraisal ofevery person-
alencounter and our responses toitareshaped notjust
byour rational judgments orour personal history, but
also byour distant ancestral past. This leaves uswith
sometimes tragic propensities, aswitness thesadevents23/661

attheCrabtree household. Inshort, wetoo often con-
front postmodern dilemmas with anemotional reper-
toire tailored tothe urgencies ofthe Pleistocene. That
predicament is at the heart of my subject.
Impulses to Action
One early spring day Iwas driving along ahighway over
amountain pass inColorado, when asnow flurry sud-
denly blotted outthecarafew lengths ahead ofme. AsI
peered ahead Icouldn't make outanything; theswirling
snow was now ablinding whiteness. Pressing myfoot on
thebrake, Icould feel anxiety flood mybody and hear
the thumping of my heart.
The anxiety built tofullfear: Ipulled over totheside
oftheroad, waiting fortheflurry topass. Ahalf hour
later thesnow stopped, visibility returned, and Icontin-
ued onmyway—only tobestopped afewhundred yards
down theroad, where anambulance crew was helping a
passenger inacarthat had rear-ended aslower carin
front; thecollision blocked thehighway. IfIhad contin-
ued driving intheblinding snow, Iprobably would have
hit them.
The caution fear forced onme that day may have
saved mylife. Like arabbit frozen interror atthehint of
apassing fox—or aprotomammal hiding from ama-
rauding dinosaur—I was overtaken byaninternal state24/661

that compelled metostop, pay attention, and take heed
of a coming clanger.
Allemotions are, inessence, impulses toact, thein-
stant plans forhandling lifethat evolution has instilled
inus.The very root oftheword emotion ismotere, the
Latin verb "tomove," plus the prefix "e-" toconnote
"move away," suggesting that atendency toactisimpli-
citinevery emotion. That emotions lead toactions is
most obvious inwatching animals orchildren; itisonly
in"civilized" adults wesooften find thegreat anomaly
inthe animal kingdom, emotions—root impulses to
act—divorced from obvious reaction.6
Inour emotional repertoire each emotion plays a
unique role, asrevealed bytheir distinctive biological
signatures (see Appendix Afordetails on"basic" emo-
tions). With new methods topeer into the body and
brain, researchers are discovering more physiological
details ofhow each emotion prepares thebody foravery
different kind of response:7
•With anger blood flows tothehands, making iteasi-
ertograsp aweapon orstrike atafoe; heart rate in-
creases, and arush ofhormones such asadrenaline gen-
erates apulse ofenergy strong enough for vigorous
action.
•With fear blood goes tothelarge skeletal muscles,
such asinthelegs, making iteasier toflee—and making25/661

theface blanch asblood isshunted away from it(creat-
ingthefeeling that theblood "runs cold"). Atthesame
time, thebody freezes, ifonly foramoment, perhaps al-
lowing time togauge whether hiding might beabetter
reaction. Circuits inthebrain's emotional centers trigger
aflood ofhormones that put thebody ongeneral alert,
making itedgy and ready foraction, and attention fix-
ates onthethreat athand, thebetter toevaluate what
response to make.
•Among themain biological changes inhappiness is
anincreased activity inabrain center that inhibits neg-
ative feelings and fosters anincrease inavailable energy,
and aquieting ofthose that generate worrisome
thought. But there isnoparticular shift inphysiology
save aquiescence, which makes thebody recover more
quickly from the biological arousal ofupsetting emo-
tions. This configuration offers thebody ageneral rest,
aswell asreadiness and enthusiasm forwhatever task is
at hand and for striving toward a great variety of goals.
•Love, tender feelings, and sexual satisfaction entail
parasympathetic arousal—the physiological opposite of
the"fight-or-flight" mobilization shared byfear and an-
ger. The parasympathetic pattern, dubbed the "relaxa-
tion response," isabody wide setofreactions that gen-
erates ageneral state ofcalm and contentment, facilitat-
ing cooperation.26/661

•The lifting ofthe eyebrows insurprise allows the
taking inofalarger visual sweep and also permits more
light tostrike the retina. This offers more information
about the unexpected event, making iteasier tofigure
out exactly what isgoing onand concoct thebest plan
for action.
•Around theworld anexpression ofdisgust looks the
same, and sends theidentical message: something isof-
fensive intaste orsmell, ormetaphorically so.The facial
expression ofdisgust—the upper lipcurled totheside as
the nose wrinkles slightly—suggests aprimordial at-
tempt, asDarwin observed, toclose thenostrils against
a noxious odor or to spit out a poisonous food.
•Amain function forsadness istohelp adjust toasig-
nificant loss, such asthe death ofsomeone close ora
major disappointment. Sadness brings adrop inenergy
and enthusiasm forlife's activities, particularly diver-
sions and pleasures, and, asitdeepens and approaches
depression, slows the body's metabolism. This intro-
spective withdrawal creates theopportunity tomourn a
loss orfrustrated hope, grasp itsconsequences forone's
life, and, asenergy returns, plan new beginnings. This
loss ofenergy may well have kept saddened—and vul-
nerable—early humans close tohome, where they were
safer.27/661

These biological propensities toactareshaped further
byourlifeexperience and ourculture. Forinstance, uni-
versally theloss ofaloved one elicits sadness and grief.
But how weshow our grieving—how emotions aredis-
played orheld back forprivate moments—is molded by
culture, asarewhich particular people inour lives fall
into the category of "loved ones" to be mourned.
The protracted period ofevolution when these emo-
tional responses were hammered into shape was cer-
tainly aharsher reality than most humans endured asa
species after thedawn ofrecorded history. Itwas atime
when few infants survived tochildhood and few adults
tothirty years, when predators could strike atany mo-
ment, when thevagaries ofdroughts and floods meant
thedifference between starvation and survival. But with
thecoming ofagriculture and even themost rudiment-
ary human societies, the odds for survival began to
change dramatically. Inthe last ten thousand years,
when these advances took hold throughout the world,
theferocious pressures that had held thehuman popu-
lation in check eased steadily.
Those same pressures had made our emotional re-
sponses sovaluable forsurvival; asthey waned, sodid
thegoodness offitofparts ofour emotional repertoire.
While intheancient past ahair-trigger anger may have
offered acrucial edge forsurvival, the availability of28/661

automatic weaponry tothirteen-year-olds has made it
too often a disastrous reaction.8
Our Two Minds
Afriend was telling meabout herdivorce, apainful sep-
aration. Her husband had fallen inlove with ayounger
woman atwork, and suddenly announced hewas leav-
ing tolive with the other woman. Months ofbitter
wrangling over house, money, and custody ofthechil-
dren followed. Now, some months later, she was saying
that her independence was appealing toher, that she
was happy tobeonher own. "Ijust don't think about
him anymore—I really don't care," she said. But asshe
said it, her eyes momentarily welled up with tears.
That moment ofteary eyes could easily pass unnoted.
But theempathic understanding that someone's water-
ingeyes means she issad despite herwords tothecon-
trary isanactofcomprehending just assurely asisdis-
tilling meaning from words onaprinted page. One isan
act ofthe emotional mind, the other ofthe rational
mind. Inavery real sense wehave two minds, one that
thinks and one that feels.
These two fundamentally different ways ofknowing
interact toconstruct our mental life. One, the rational
mind, isthe mode ofcomprehension weare typically
conscious of:more prominent inawareness, thoughtful,29/661

able toponder and reflect. But alongside that there is
another system ofknowing: impulsive and powerful, if
sometimes illogical—the emotional mind. (For amore
detailed description ofthe characteristics ofthe emo-
tional mind, see Appendix B.)
The emotional/ rational dichotomy approximates the
folk (distinction between "heart" and "head"; knowing
something isright "inyour heart" isadifferent order of
conviction—somehow adeeper kind ofcertainty—than
thinking sowith your rational mind. There isasteady
gradient inthe ratio ofrational-to-emotional control
over the mind; the more intense the feeling, the more
dominant theemotional mind becomes—and themore
ineffectual the rational. This isanarrangement that
seems tostem from eons ofevolutionary advantage to
having emotions and intuitions guide our instantaneous
response insituations where our lives areinperil—and
where pausing tothink over what todocould cost usour
lives.
These two minds, theemotional and therational, op-
erate intight harmony forthe most part, intertwining
their very different ways ofknowing toguide usthrough
the world. Ordinarily there isabalance between emo-
tional and rational minds, with emotion feeding into
and informing theoperations oftherational mind, and
the rational mind refining and sometimes vetoing the30/661

inputs oftheemotions. Still, theemotional and rational
minds aresemi-independent faculties, each, asweshall
see, reflecting theoperation ofdistinct, butinterconnec-
ted, circuitry in the brain.
Inmany ormost moments these minds areexquisitely
coordinated; feelings are essential tothought, thought
tofeeling. But when passions surge thebalance tips: itis
the emotional mind that captures the upper hand,
swamping therational mind. The sixteenth-century hu-
manist Erasmus ofRotterdam wrote inasatirical vein of
this perennial tension between reason and emotion:9
Jupiter has bestowed farmore passion than reas-
on—you could calculate theratio as24toone. He
setuptwo raging tyrants inopposition toReason's
solitary power: anger and lust. How farReason can
prevail against thecombined forces ofthese two the
common lifeofman makes quite clear. Reason does
theonly thing shecanand shouts herself hoarse, re-
peating formulas ofvirtue, while theother two bid
hergohang herself, and areincreasingly noisy and
offensive, until atlast their Ruler isexhausted, gives
up, and surrenders.
HOW THE BRAIN GREW31/661

Tobetter grasp thepotent hold oftheemotions onthe
thinking mind—and why feeling and reason aresoread-
ilyatwar—consider how the brain evolved. Human
brains, with their three pounds orsoofcells and neural
juices, areabout triple thesize ofthose inour nearest
cousins inevolution, thenonhuman primates. Over mil-
lions ofyears ofevolution, thebrain hasgrown from the
bottom up,with itshigher centers developing aselabor-
ations oflower, more ancient parts. (The growth ofthe
brain inthehuman embryo roughly retraces this evolu-
tionary course.)
The most primitive part ofthebrain, shared with all
species that have more than aminimal nervous system,
isthebrainstem surrounding thetopofthespinal cord.
This root brain regulates basic lifefunctions like breath-
ingand the metabolism ofthe body's other organs, as
well ascontrolling stereotyped reactions and move-
ments. This primitive brain cannot besaid tothink or
learn; rather itisasetofpreprogrammed regulators
that keep thebody running asitshould and reacting ina
way that ensures survival. This brain reigned supreme
intheAge oftheReptiles: Picture asnake hissing tosig-
nal the threat of an attack.
From themost primitive root, thebrainstem, emerged
theemotional centers. Millions ofyears later inevolu-
tion, from these emotional areas evolved the thinking32/661

brain or"neocortex," the great bulb ofconvoluted tis-
sues that make upthetoplayers. The fact that thethink-
ingbrain grew from theemotional reveals much about
therelationship ofthought tofeeling; there was anemo-
tional brain long before there was a rational one.
The most ancient root ofour emotional lifeisinthe
sense ofsmell, or,more precisely, intheolfactory lobe,
thecells that take inand analyze smell. Every living en-
tity, beitnutritious, poisonous, sexual partner, predator
orprey, hasadistinctive molecular signature that canbe
carried inthewind. Inthose primitive times smell com-
mended itself as a paramount sense for survival.
From theolfactory lobe theancient centers foremo-
tion began toevolve, eventually growing large enough to
encircle the top ofthe brainstem. Initsrudimentary
stages, theolfactory center was composed oflittle more
than thin layers ofneurons gathered toanalyze smell.
One layer ofcells took inwhat was smelled and sorted it
outinto therelevant categories: edible ortoxic, sexually
available, enemy ormeal. Asecond layer ofcells sent re-
flexive messages throughout thenervous system telling
the body what to do: bite, spit, approach, flee, chase.10
With thearrival ofthefirst mammals came new, key
layers ofthe emotional brain. These, surrounding the
brainstem, look roughly like abagel with abite taken
out atthe bottom where the brainstem nestles into33/661

them. Because this part ofthebrain rings and borders
the brainstem, itwas called the "limbic" system, from
"limbus," theLatin word for"ring." This new neural ter-
ritory added emotions proper tothebrain's repertoire.11
When weareinthegrip ofcraving orfury, head-over-
heels inlove orrecoiling indread, itisthelimbic system
that has us in its grip.
Asitevolved, thelimbic system refined two powerful
tools: learning and memory. These revolutionary ad-
vances allowed ananimal tobemuch smarter inits
choices forsurvival, and tofine-tune itsresponses toad-
apttochanging demands rather than having invariable
and automatic reactions. Ifafood led tosickness, it
could beavoided next time. Decisions like knowing what
toeatand what tospurn were still determined largely
through smell; the connections between the olfactory
bulb and the limbic system now took onthe tasks of
making distinctions among smells and recognizing
them, comparing apresent smell with past ones, and so
discriminating good from bad. This was done bythe
"rhinencephalon," literally, the "nose brain," apart of
thelimbic wiring, and therudimentary basis oftheneo-
cortex, the thinking brain.
About 100 million years ago the brain inmammals
took agreat growth spurt. Piled ontopofthethin two-
layered cortex—the regions that plan, comprehend what34/661

issensed, coordinate movement—several new layers of
brain cells were added toform the neocortex. Incon-
trast totheancient brain's two-layered cortex, theneo-
cortex offered an extraordinary intellectual edge.
The Homo sapiens neocortex, somuch larger than in
any other species, hasadded allthat isdistinctly human.
The neocortex istheseat ofthought; itcontains thecen-
ters that put together and comprehend what thesenses
perceive. Itadds toafeeling what we think about
it—and allows ustohave feelings about ideas, art, sym-
bols, imaginings.
Inevolution the neocortex allowed ajudicious fine-
tuning that nodoubt hasmade enormous advantages in
anorganism's ability tosurvive adversity, making it
more likely that itsprogeny would inturn pass onthe
genes that contain that same neural circuitry. The sur-
vival edge isdue tothe neocortex's talent for
strategizing, long-term planning, and other mental
wiles. Beyond that, the triumphs ofart, ofcivilization
and culture, are all fruits of the neocortex.
This new addition tothebrain allowed theaddition of
nuance toemotional life. Take love. Limbic structures
generate feelings ofpleasure and sexual desire—the
emotions that feed sexual passion. But the addition of
theneocortex and itsconnections tothelimbic system
allowed forthe mother-child bond that isthe basis of35/661

thefamily unit and thelong-term commitment tochil-
drearing that makes human development possible. (Spe-
cies that have noneocortex, such asreptiles, lack mater-
nal affection; when their young hatch, the newborns
must hide toavoid being cannibalized.) Inhumans the
protective bond between parent and child allows much
ofmaturation togoonover thecourse ofalong child-
hood—during which the brain continues to develop.
Asweproceed upthephylogenetic scale from reptile
torhesus tohuman, thesheer mass oftheneocortex in-
creases; with that increase comes ageometric rise inthe
interconnections inbrain circuitry. The larger thenum-
ber ofsuch connections, the greater the range ofpos-
sible responses. The neocortex allows forthe subtlety
and complexity ofemotional life, such astheability to
have feelings about our feelings. There ismore
neocortex-to-limbic system inprimates than inother
species—and vastly more inhumans—suggesting why
weareable todisplay afargreater range ofreactions to
our emotions, and more nuance. While arabbit or
rhesus has arestricted setoftypical responses tofear,
the larger human neocortex allows afarmore nimble
repertoire—including calling 999. The more complex the
social system, themore essential issuch flexibility—and
there is no more complex social world than our own.1236/661

But these higher centers donotgovern allofemotion-
allife; incrucial matters oftheheart—and most espe-
cially inemotional emergencies—they can besaid tode-
fertothelimbic system. Because somany ofthebrain's
higher centers sprouted from orextended thescope of
thelimbic area, theemotional brain plays acrucial role
inneural architecture. Astheroot from which thenewer
brain grew, the emotional areas are intertwined via
myriad connecting circuits toallparts oftheneocortex.
This gives theemotional centers immense power toin-
fluence thefunctioning oftherest ofthebrain—includ-
ing its centers for thought.37/661

2
Anatomy of an Emotional Hijacking
Life isacomedy for those who think and a
tragedy for those who feel.
HORACE WALPOLE
Itwas ahotAugust afternoon in1963, thesame day that
the Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr., gave his"IHave a
Dream" speech toacivil rights march onWashington.
On that day Richard Robles, aseasoned burglar who
had just been paroled from athree-year sentence forthe
more than one hundred break-ins hehad pulled tosup-
port aheroin habit, decided todoone more. Hewanted
torenounce crime, Robles later claimed, buthedesper-
ately needed money forhisgirlfriend and their three-
year-old daughter.
The apartment hebroke into that day belonged totwo
young women, twenty-one-year-old Janice Wylie, are-
searcher atNewsweek magazine, and twenty-three-
year-old Emily Hoffert, agrade-school teacher. Though
Robles chose theapartment onNew York's swanky Up-
per East Side toburglarize because hethought noone
would bethere, Wylie was home. Threatening herwith a
knife, Robles tied her up. Ashewas leaving, Hoffert

came home. Tomake good hisescape, Robles began to
tie her up, too.
AsRobles tells thetale years later, while hewas tying
upHoffert, Janice Wylie warned him hewould not get
away with this crime: She would remember hisface and
help thepolice track him down. Robles, who had prom-
ised himself this was tohave been hislast burglary, pan-
icked atthat, completely losing control. Inafrenzy, he
grabbed asoda bottle and clubbed thewomen until they
were unconscious, then, awash inrage and fear, he
slashed and stabbed them over and over with akitchen
knife. Looking back onthat moment some twenty-five
years later, Robles lamented, "Ijust went bananas. My
head just exploded."
Tothis day Robles has lots oftime toregret those few
minutes ofrage unleashed. Atthis writing heisstill in
prison, some three decades later, for what became
known as the "Career Girl Murders."
Such emotional explosions are neural hijackings. At
those moments, evidence suggests, acenter inthelimbic
brain proclaims anemergency, recruiting therest ofthe
brain toitsurgent agenda. The hijacking occurs inanin-
stant, triggering this reaction crucial moments before
theneocortex, thethinking brain, has had achance to
glimpse fully what ishappening, letalone decide ifitisa
good idea. The hallmark ofsuch ahijack isthat once the39/661

moment passes, those sopossessed have the sense of
not knowing what came over them.
These hijacks arebynomeans isolated, horrific incid-
ents that lead tobrutal crimes like the Career Girl
Murders. Inless catastrophic form—but notnecessarily
less intense—they happen touswith fair frequency.
Think back tothelast time you "lost it,"blowing upat
someone—your spouse orchild, orperhaps thedriver of
another car—to adegree that later, with some reflection
and hindsight, seemed uncalled for. Inallprobability,
that, too, was such ahijacking, aneural takeover which,
asweshall see, originates intheamygdala, acenter in
the limbic brain.
Not alllimbic hijackings aredistressing. When ajoke
strikes someone assouproarious that their laughter is
almost explosive, that, too, isalimbic response. Itisat
work also inmoments ofintense joy: When Dan Jansen,
after several heartbreaking failures tocapture an
Olympic Gold Medal forspeed skating (which hehad
vowed todoforhisdying sister), finally won theGold in
the 1,000-meter race inthe 1994 Winter Olympics in
Norway, hiswife was soovercome bythe excitement
and happiness that she had toberushed toemergency
physicians at rinkside.
THE SEAT OF ALL PASSION40/661

Inhumans theamygdala (from theGreek word for"al-
mond") isanalmond-shaped cluster ofinterconnected
structures perched above the brainstem, near the bot-
tom ofthelimbic ring. There aretwo amygdalas, one on
each side ofthe brain, nestled toward the side ofthe
head. The human amygdala isrelatively large compared
tothat inany ofour closest evolutionary cousins, the
primates.
The hippocampus and theamygdala were thetwo key
parts ofthe primitive "nose brain" that, inevolution,
gave rise tothecortex and then theneocortex. Tothis
day these limbic structures domuch ormost ofthe
brain's learning and remembering; theamygdala isthe
specialist for emotional matters. Ifthe amygdala is
severed from therest ofthebrain, theresult isastriking
inability togauge theemotional significance ofevents;
this condition is sometimes called "affective blindness."
Lacking emotional weight, encounters lose their hold.
One young man whose amygdala had been surgically re-
moved tocontrol severe seizures became completely un-
interested inpeople, preferring tositinisolation with no
human contact. While hewas perfectly capable ofcon-
versation, henolonger recognized close friends, relat-
ives, oreven hismother, and remained impassive inthe
face oftheir anguish athis indifference. Without an
amygdala heseemed tohave lost allrecognition of41/661

feeling, aswell asany feeling about feelings.1The amyg-
dala acts asastorehouse ofemotional memory, and thus
ofsignificance itself; lifewithout theamygdala isalife
stripped of personal meanings.
More than affection istied totheamygdala; allpas-
sion depends onit.Animals that have their amygdala re-
moved orsevered lack fear and rage, lose the urge to
compete orcooperate, and nolonger have any sense of
their place intheir kind's social order; emotion isblun-
tedorabsent. Tears, anemotional signal unique tohu-
mans, aretriggered bytheamygdala and anearby struc-
ture, thecingulate gyrus; being held, stroked, orother-
wise comforted soothes these same brain regions, stop-
ping thesobs. Without anamygdala, there arenotears
of sorrow to soothe.
Joseph LeDoux, aneuroscientist atthe Center for
Neural Science atNew York University, was thefirst to
discover thekey role oftheamygdala intheemotional
brain.2LeDoux ispart ofafresh breed ofneuroscientists
who draw oninnovative methods and technologies that
bring apreviously unknown level ofprecision tomap-
ping thebrain atwork, and socan laybare mysteries of
mind that earlier generations ofscientists have found
impenetrable. His findings onthecircuitry oftheemo-
tional brain overthrow along-standing notion about the
limbic system, putting theamygdala atthecenter ofthe42/661

action and placing other limbic structures invery differ-
ent roles.3
LeDoux's research explains how the amygdala can
take control over what wedoeven asthethinking brain,
theneocortex, isstill coming toadecision. Asweshall
see, theworkings oftheamygdala and itsinterplay with
the neocortex are at the heart of emotional intelligence.
THE NEURAL TRIPWIRE
Most intriguing forunderstanding the power ofemo-
tions inmental lifearethose moments ofimpassioned
action that welater regret, once thedust hassettled; the
question ishow wesoeasily become soirrational. Take,
forexample, ayoung woman who drove two hours to
Boston tohave brunch and spend theday with herboy-
friend. During brunch hegave herapresent she'd been
wanting formonths, ahard-to-find artprint brought
back from Spain. But herdelight dissolved themoment
shesuggested that after brunch they gotoamatinee ofa
movie she'd been wanting toseeand herfriend stunned
her bysaying hecouldn't spend the day with her be-
cause hehad Softball practice. Hurt and incredulous,
shegotupintears, leftthecafe, and, onimpulse, threw
theprint inagarbage can. Months later, recounting the
incident, it'snotwalking outsheregrets, buttheloss of
the print.43/661

Itisinmoments such asthese—when impulsive feel-
ing overrides the rational—that the newly discovered
role fortheamygdala ispivotal. Incoming signals from
the senses letthe amygdala scan every experience for
trouble. This puts the amygdala inapowerful post in
mental life, something like apsychological sentinel,
challenging every situation, every perception, with but
one kind ofquestion inmind, the most primitive: "Is
this something Ihate? That hurts me? Something I
fear?" Ifso—if the moment athand somehow draws a
"Yes"—the amygdala reacts instantaneously, like aneur-
altripwire, telegraphing amessage ofcrisis toallparts
of the brain.
Inthe brain's architecture, the amygdala ispoised
something like analarm company where operators
stand ready tosend out emergency calls tothefire de-
partment, police, and aneighbor whenever ahome se-
curity system signals trouble.
When itsounds analarm of,say, fear, itsends urgent
messages toevery major part ofthebrain: ittriggers the
secretion ofthebody's fight-or-flight hormones, mobil-
izes thecenters formovement, and activates thecardi-
ovascular system, themuscles, and thegut.4Other cir-
cuits from the amygdala signal the secretion ofemer-
gency dollops ofthehormone norepinephrine toheight-
enthereactivity ofkey brain areas, including those that44/661

make thesenses more alert, ineffect setting thebrain on
edge. Additional signals from the amygdala tell the
brainstem tofixtheface inafearful expression, freeze
unrelated movements themuscles had underway, speed
heart rate and raise blood pressure, slow breathing. Oth-
ersrivet attention onthesource ofthefear, and prepare
themuscles toreact accordingly. Simultaneously, cortic-
almemory systems are shuffled toretrieve any know-
ledge relevant totheemergency athand, taking preced-
ence over other strands of thought.
And these arejust part ofacarefully coordinated array
ofchanges the amygdala orchestrates asitcommand-
eers areas throughout thebrain (for amore detailed ac-
count, seeAppendix C).The amygdala's extensive web
ofneural connections allows it,during anemotional
emergency, tocapture and drive much oftherest ofthe
brain—including the rational mind.
THE EMOTIONAL SENTINEL
Afriend tells ofhaving been onvacation inEngland, and
eating brunch atacanalside cafe. Taking astroll after-
ward along thestone steps down tothecanal, hesud-
denly saw agirl gazing atthewater, her face frozen in
fear. Before heknew quite why, hehad jumped inthe
water—in hiscoat and tie.Only once hewas inthewater45/661

didherealize that thegirlwas staring inshock atatod-
dler who had fallen in—whom he was able to rescue.
What made him jump inthe water before heknew
why? The answer, very likely, was his amygdala.
Inone ofthemost telling discoveries about emotions
ofthelast decade, LeDoux's work revealed how thear-
chitecture ofthebrain gives theamygdala aprivileged
position asanemotional sentinel, able tohijack the
brain.5His research has shown that sensory signals
from eyeoreartravel first inthebrain tothethalamus,
and then—across asingle synapse—to the amygdala; a
second signal from thethalamus isrouted totheneocor-
tex—the thinking brain. This branching allows theamy-
gdala tobegin torespond before the neocortex, which
mulls information through several levels ofbrain cir-
cuits before itfully perceives and finally initiates its
more finely tailored response.
LeDoux's research isrevolutionary forunderstanding
emotional lifebecause itisthefirst towork out neural
pathways forfeelings that bypass theneocortex. Those
feelings that take thedirect route through theamygdala
include our most primitive and potent; this circuit does
much toexplain the power ofemotion tooverwhelm
rationality.
The conventional view inneuroscience had been that
theeye, ear, and other sensory organs transmit signals46/661

tothethalamus, and from there tosensory processing
areas oftheneocortex, where thesignals areputtogeth-
erinto objects asweperceive them. The signals aresor-
tedformeanings sothat thebrain recognizes what each
object isand what itspresence means. From theneocor-
tex, theoldtheory held, thesignals aresent tothelimbic
brain, and from there theappropriate response radiates
out through thebrain and therest ofthebody. That is
theway itworks much ormost ofthetime—but LeDoux
discovered asmaller bundle ofneurons that leads dir-
ectly from thethalamus totheamygdala, inaddition to
those going through the larger path ofneurons tothe
cortex. This smaller and shorter pathway—something
like aneural back alley—allows theamygdala toreceive
some direct inputs from thesenses and start aresponse
before they are fully registered by the neocortex.
This discovery overthrows thenotion that theamyg-
dala must depend entirely onsignals from theneocortex
toformulate itsemotional reactions. The amygdala can
trigger anemotional response viathis emergency route
even asaparallel reverberating circuit begins between
theamygdala and neocortex. The amygdala can have us
spring toaction while theslightly slower—but more fully
informed—neocortex unfolds itsmore refined plan for
reaction.47/661

LeDoux overturned the prevailing wisdom about the
pathways traveled byemotions through hisresearch on
fear inanimals. Inacrucial experiment hedestroyed the
auditory cortex ofrats, then exposed them toatone
paired with anelectric shock. The rats quickly learned to
fear thetone, even though thesound ofthetone could
not register intheir neocortex. Instead, thesound took
thedirect route from eartothalamus toamygdala, skip-
ping allhigher avenues. Inshort, therats had learned an
emotional reaction without any higher cortical involve-
ment: The amygdala perceived, remembered, and or-
chestrated their fear independently.
"Anatomically the emotional system can act inde-
pendently ofthe neocortex," LeDoux told me. "Some
emotional reactions and emotional memories can be
formed without any conscious, cognitive participation at
all." The amygdala can house memories and response
repertoires that weenact without quite realizing why we
dosobecause theshortcut from thalamus toamygdala
completely bypasses the neocortex. This bypass seems
toallow theamygdala tobearepository foremotional
impressions and memories that wehave never known
about infull awareness. LeDoux proposes that itisthe
amygdala's subterranean role inmemory that explains,
forexample, astartling experiment inwhich people ac-
quired apreference foroddly shaped geometric figures48/661

that had been flashed atthem soquickly that they had
no conscious awareness of having seen them at all!6
Avisual signal first goes from theretina tothethal-
amus, where itistranslated into thelanguage ofthe
brain. Most ofthe message then goes tothe visual
cortex, where itisanalyzed and assessed formean-
ing and appropriate response; ifthat response is
emotional, asignal goes totheamygdala toactivate
the emotional centers. But asmaller portion ofthe49/661

original signal goes straight from the thalamus to
theamygdala inaquicker transmission, allowing a
faster (though less precise) response. Thus theamyg-
dala can trigger anemotional response before the
cortical centers have fully understood what is
happening.
Other research has shown that inthefirst few milli-
seconds ofourperceiving something wenotonly uncon-
sciously comprehend what itis,but decide whether we
like itornot; the"cognitive unconscious" presents our
awareness with notjust theidentity ofwhat wesee, but
anopinion about it.7Our emotions have amind oftheir
own, one which can hold views quite independently of
our rational mind.
THE SPECIALIST IN EMOTIONAL
MEMORY
Those unconscious opinions are emotional memories;
their storehouse isthe amygdala. Research byLeDoux
and other neuroscientists now seems tosuggest that the
hippocampus, which has long been considered thekey
structure ofthelimbic system, ismore involved inregis-
tering and making sense ofperceptual patterns than
with emotional reactions. The hippocampus's main in-
put isinproviding akeen memory ofcontext, vital for
emotional meaning; itisthe hippocampus that50/661

recognizes thediffering significance of,say, abear inthe
zoo versus one in your backyard.
While thehippocampus remembers thedry facts, the
amygdala retains the emotional flavor that goes with
those facts. Ifwetrytopass acaronatwo-lane highway
and narrowly miss having ahead-on collision, thehip-
pocampus retains thespecifics oftheincident, like what
stretch ofroad wewere on,who was with us,what the
other carlooked like. But itistheamygdala that ever-
after will send asurge ofanxiety through uswhenever
wetrytopass acarinsimilar circumstances. AsLeDoux
putittome, "The hippocampus iscrucial inrecognizing
aface asthat ofyour cousin. But itistheamygdala that
adds you don't really like her."
The brain uses asimple butcunning method tomake
emotional memories register with special potency: the
very same neurochemical alerting systems that prime
the body toreact tolife-threatening emergencies by
fighting orfleeing also stamp the moment inmemory
with vividness.8Under stress (oranxiety, orpresumably
even the intense excitement ofjoy) anerve running
from the brain tothe adrenal glands atop the kidneys
triggers asecretion ofthe hormones epinephrine and
norepinephrine, which surge through thebody priming
itforanemergency. These hormones activate receptors
onthe vagus nerve; while the vagus nerve carries51/661

messages from the brain toregulate the heart, italso
carries signals back into thebrain, triggered byepineph-
rine and norepinephrine. The amygdala isthemain site
inthebrain where these signals go;they activate neur-
ons within theamygdala tosignal other brain regions to
strengthen memory for what is happening.
This amygdala arousal seems toimprint inmemory
most moments ofemotional arousal with anadded de-
gree ofstrength—that's why wearemore likely, forex-
ample, toremember where wewent onafirst date, or
what wewere doing when weheard thenews that the
space shuttle Challenger had exploded. The more in-
tense the amygdala arousal, the stronger the imprint;
theexperiences that scare orthrill usthemost inlifeare
among ourmost indelible memories. This means that, in
effect, thebrain hastwo memory systems, one forordin-
aryfacts and one foremotionally charged ones. Aspe-
cial system for emotional memories makes excellent
sense inevolution, ofcourse, ensuring that animals
would have particularly vivid memories ofwhat
threatens orpleases them. But emotional memories can
be faulty guides to the present.
OUT-OF-DATE NEURAL ALARMS
One drawback ofsuch neural alarms isthat theurgent
message theamygdala sends issometimes, ifnotoften,52/661

out-of-date—especially inthefluid social world wehu-
mans inhabit. Astherepository foremotional memory,
theamygdala scans experience, comparing what ishap-
pening now with what happened inthepast. Itsmethod
ofcomparison isassociative: when one keyelement ofa
present situation issimilar tothe past, itcan call ita
"match"—which iswhy this circuit issloppy: itacts be-
fore there isfull confirmation. Itfrantically commands
that wereact tothepresent inways that were imprinted
long ago, with thoughts, emotions, reactions learned in
response toevents perhaps only dimly similar, butclose
enough to alarm the amygdala.
Thus aformer army nurse, traumatized bytherelent-
less flood ofghastly wounds she once tended inwar-
time, issuddenly swept with amix ofdread, loathing,
and panic—a repeat ofherbattlefield reaction triggered
once again, years later, bythestench when she opens a
closet door tofind hertoddler had stashed astinking di-
aper there. Afew spare elements ofthesituation isall
that need seem similar tosome past danger fortheamy-
gdala totrigger itsemergency proclamation. The trouble
isthat along with the emotionally charged memories
that have the power totrigger this crisis response can
come equally outdated ways of responding to it.
The emotional brain's imprecision insuch moments is
added tobythe fact that many potent emotional53/661

memories date from thefirst few years oflife, inthere-
lationship between aninfant and itscaretakers. This is
especially true fortraumatic events, like beatings orout-
right neglect. During this early period oflifeother brain
structures, particularly thehippocampus, which iscru-
cial fornarrative memories, and theneocortex, seat of
rational thought, have yettobecome fully developed. In
memory, theamygdala and hippocampus work hand-in-
hand; each stores and retrieves itsspecial information
independently. While the hippocampus retrieves in-
formation, theamygdala determines ifthat information
has any emotional valence. But the amygdala, which
matures very quickly intheinfant's brain, ismuch closer
to fully formed at birth.
LeDoux turns totherole oftheamygdala inchildhood
tosupport what has long been abasic tenet ofpsycho-
analytic thought: that the interactions oflife's earliest
years laydown asetofemotional lessons based onthe
attunement and upsets inthe contacts between infant
and caretakers.9These emotional lessons aresopotent
and yetsodifficult tounderstand from thevantage point
ofadult lifebecause, believes LeDoux, they arestored in
theamygdala asrough, wordless blueprints foremotion-
allife. Since these earliest emotional memories arees-
tablished atatime before infants have words fortheir
experience, when these emotional memories are54/661

triggered inlater lifethere isnomatching setofarticu-
lated thoughts about the response that takes usover.
One reason wecan besobaffled byour emotional out-
bursts, then, isthat they often date from atime early in
our lives when things were bewildering and wedidnot
yethave words forcomprehending events. Wemay have
thechaotic feelings, butnotthewords forthememories
that formed them.
WHEN EMOTIONS ARE FAST AND
SLOPPY
Itwas somewhere around three inthemorning when a
huge object came crashing through theceiling inafar
corner ofmybedroom, spilling thecontents oftheattic
into theroom. Inasecond Ileapt outofbed and ranout
ofthe room, terrified the entire ceiling would cave in.
Then, realizing Iwas safe, Icautiously peered back in
the bedroom tosee what had caused allthe dam-
age—only todiscover that thesound Ihad taken tobe
theceiling caving inwas actually thefallofatallpile of
boxes mywife had stacked inthecorner theday before
while shesorted outhercloset. Nothing had fallen from
theattic: there was noattic. The ceiling was intact, and
so was I.
My leap from bed while half-asleep—which might
have saved mefrom injury had ittruly been theceiling55/661

falling—illustrates thepower oftheamygdala topropel
ustoaction inemergencies, vital moments before the
neocortex has time tofully register what isactually go-
ing on. The emergency route from eye orear tothal-
amus toamygdala iscrucial: itsaves time inanemer-
gency, when aninstantaneous response isrequired. But
this circuit from thalamus toamygdala carries only a
small portion ofsensory messages, with the majority
taking themain route uptotheneocortex. Sowhat re-
gisters intheamygdala viathis express route is,atbest,
arough signal, just enough forawarning. AsLeDoux
points out, "You don't need toknow exactly what
something is to know that it may be dangerous."10
The direct route has avast advantage inbrain time,
which isreckoned inthousandths ofasecond. The amy-
gdala inaratcan begin aresponse toaperception inas
little astwelve milliseconds—twelve thousandths ofa
second. The route from thalamus toneocortex toamyg-
dala takes about twice aslong. Similar measurements
have yettobemade inthehuman brain, but therough
ratio would likely hold.
Inevolutionary terms, thesurvival value ofthis direct
route would have been great, allowing aquick-response
option that shaves afew critical milliseconds inreaction
time todangers. Those milliseconds could well have
saved the lives ofour protomammalian ancestors in56/661

such numbers that this arrangement isnow featured in
every mammalian brain, including yours and mine. In
fact, while this circuit may play arelatively limited role
inhuman mental life, largely restricted toemotional
crises, much ofthemental lifeofbirds, fish, and reptiles
revolves around it,since their very survival depends on
constantly scanning forpredators orprey. "This primit-
ive, minor brain system inmammals isthemain brain
system innon-mammals," says LeDoux. "Itoffers avery
rapid way toturn onemotions. But it'saquick-and-dirty
process; the cells are fast, but not very precise."
Such imprecision in,say, asquirrel, isfine, since it
leads toerring ontheside ofsafety, springing away at
thefirst sign ofanything that might signal alooming en-
emy, orspringing toward ahint ofsomething edible. But
inhuman emotional lifethat imprecision can have dis-
astrous consequences for our relationships, since it
means, figuratively speaking, wecan spring atoraway
from the wrong thing—or person. (Consider, for ex-
ample, the waitress who dropped atray ofsixdinners
when sheglimpsed awoman with ahuge, curly mane of
red hair—exactly like the woman her ex-husband had
left her for.)
Such inchoate emotional mistakes arebased onfeel-
ingprior tothought. LeDoux calls it"precognitive emo-
tion," areaction based onneural bits and pieces of57/661

sensory information that have notbeen fully sorted out
and integrated into arecognizable object. It'savery raw
form ofsensory information, something like aneural
Name That Tune, where, instead ofsnap judgments of
melody being made onthebasis ofjust afew notes, a
whole perception isgrasped onthebasis ofthefirst few
tentative parts. Iftheamygdala senses asensory pattern
ofimport emerging, itjumps toaconclusion, triggering
itsreactions before there isfullconfirming evidence—or
any confirmation at all.
Small wonder wecan have solittle insight into the
murk ofour more explosive emotions, especially while
they still hold usinthrall. The amygdala can react ina
delirium ofrage orfear before thecortex knows what is
going onbecause such raw emotion istriggered inde-
pendent of, and prior to, thought.
THE EMOTIONAL MANAGER
Afriend's six-year-old daughter Jessica was spending
herfirst night ever sleeping over ataplaymate's, and it
was unclear who was more nervous about it,mother or
daughter. While themother tried not toletJessica see
the intense anxiety she felt, her tension peaked near
midnight that night, asshe was getting ready forbed
and heard thephone ring. Dropping hertoothbrush, she58/661

raced tothephone, her heart pounding, images ofJes-
sica in terrible distress racing through her mind.
The mother snatched thereceiver, and blurted, "Jes-
sica!" into thephone—only tohear awoman's voice say,
"Oh, I think this must be a wrong number…."
Atthat, themother recovered hercomposure, and ina
polite, measured tone, asked, "What number were you
calling?"
While theamygdala isatwork inpriming ananxious,
impulsive reaction, another part oftheemotional brain
allows for amore fitting, corrective response. The
brain's clamper switch forthe amygdala's surges ap-
pears tolieattheother end ofamajor circuit totheneo-
cortex, intheprefrontal lobes just behind theforehead.
The prefrontal cortex seems tobeatwork when
someone isfearful orenraged, butstifles orcontrols the
feeling inorder todeal more effectively with the situ-
ation athand, orwhen areappraisal calls foracom-
pletely different response, aswith the worried mother
onthephone. This neocortical area ofthebrain brings a
more analytic orappropriate response toour emotional
impulses, modulating the amygdala and other limbic
areas.
Ordinarily theprefrontal areas govern our emotional
reactions from thestart. The largest projection ofsens-
oryinformation from thethalamus, remember, goes not59/661

totheamygdala, buttotheneocortex and itsmany cen-
ters fortaking inand making sense ofwhat isbeing per-
ceived; that information and our response toitisco-
ordinated bytheprefrontal lobes, theseat ofplanning
and organizing actions toward agoal, including emo-
tional ones. Inthe neocortex acascading series ofcir-
cuits registers and analyzes that information, compre-
hends it,and, through theprefrontal lobes, orchestrates
areaction. Ifinthe process anemotional response is
called for, theprefrontal lobes dictate it,working hand-
in-hand with the amygdala and other circuits inthe
emotional brain.
This progression, which allows for discernment in
emotional response, isthestandard arrangement, with
the significant exception ofemotional emergencies.
When anemotion triggers, within moments the pre-
frontal lobes perform what amounts toarisk/ benefit ra-
tioofmyriad possible reactions, and bet that one of
them isbest.11Foranimals, when toattack, when torun.
And for we humans …when toattack, when to
run—and also, when toplacate, persuade, seek sym-
pathy, stonewall, provoke guilt, whine, put onafacade
ofbravado, becontemptuous—and soon, through the
whole repertoire of emotional wiles.
The neocortical response isslower inbrain time than
thehijack mechanism because itinvolves more circuitry.60/661

Itcanalso bemore judicious and considered, since more
thought precedes feeling. When weregister aloss and
become sad, orfeel happy after atriumph, ormull over
something someone has said ordone and then gethurt
or angry, the neocortex is at work.
Just aswith theamygdala, absent theworkings ofthe
prefrontal lobes, much ofemotional lifewould fallaway;
lacking anunderstanding that something merits an
emotional response, none comes. This role ofthe pre-
frontal lobes inemotions has been suspected byneuro-
logists since theadvent inthe1940s ofthat rather des-
perate—and sadly misguided—surgical "cure" formental
illness: theprefrontal lobotomy, which (often sloppily)
removed part ofthe prefrontal lobes orotherwise cut
connections between theprefrontal cortex and thelower
brain. Inthe days before any effective medications for
mental illness, thelobotomy was hailed astheanswer to
grave emotional distress—sever the links between the
prefrontal lobes and therest ofthebrain, and patients'
distress was "relieved." Unfortunately, thecost was that
most ofpatients' emotional lives seemed tovanish, too.
The key circuitry had been destroyed.
Emotional hijackings presumably involve two dynam-
ics: triggering oftheamygdala and afailure toactivate
the neocortical processes that usually keep emotional
response inbalance—or arecruitment oftheneocortical61/661

zones totheemotional urgency.12Atthese moments the
rational mind isswamped bythe emotional. One way
the prefrontal cortex acts asanefficient manager of
emotion—weighing reactions before acting—is by
dampening the signals foractivation sent out bythe
amygdala and other limbic centers—something like a
parent who stops animpulsive child from grabbing and
tells thechild toaskproperly (orwait) forwhat itwants
instead.13
The key “off switch” fordistressing emotion seems to
betheleftprefrontal lobe. Neuropsychologists studying
moods inpatients with injuries toparts ofthe frontal
lobes have determined that one ofthetasks oftheleft
frontal lobe istoactasaneural thermostat, regulating
unpleasant emotions. The right prefrontal lobes are a
seat ofnegative feelings like fear and aggression, while
theleft lobes keep those raw emotions incheck, prob-
ably byinhibiting theright lobe.14Inone group ofstroke
patients, forexample, those whose lesions were inthe
leftprefrontal cortex were prone tocatastrophic worries
and fears; those with lesions ontheright were "unduly
cheerful"; during neurological exams they joked around
and were solaid back they clearly didnotcare how well
they did.15And then there was the case ofthe happy
husband: aman whose right prefrontal lobe had been
partially removed insurgery forabrain malformation.62/661

His wife told physicians that after theoperation heun-
derwent adramatic personality change, becoming less
easily upset and, she was happy tosay, more affection-
ate.16
The leftprefrontal lobe, inshort, seems tobepart ofa
neural circuit that can switch off, oratleast dampen
down, allbut thestrongest negative surges ofemotion.
Iftheamygdala often acts asanemergency trigger, the
leftprefrontal lobe appears tobepart ofthebrain's “off
switch” fordisturbing emotion: theamygdala proposes,
the prefrontal lobe disposes. These prefrontal-limbic
connections are crucial inmental lifefarbeyond fine-
tuning emotion; they are essential for navigating us
through the decisions that matter most in life.
HARMONIZING EMOTION AND
THOUGHT
The connections between the amygdala (and related
limbic structures) and theneocortex arethehub ofthe
battles orcooperative treaties struck between head and
heart, thought and feeling. This circuitry explains why
emotion issocrucial toeffective thought, both inmak-
ing wise decisions and insimply allowing ustothink
clearly.
Take thepower ofemotions todisrupt thinking itself.
Neuroscientists use theterm "working memory" forthe63/661

capacity ofattention that holds inmind thefacts essen-
tialforcompleting agiven task orproblem, whether it
betheideal features one seeks inahouse while touring
several prospects, ortheelements ofareasoning prob-
lem onatest. The prefrontal cortex isthebrain region
responsible forworking memory.17But circuits from the
limbic brain totheprefrontal lobes mean that thesig-
nals ofstrong emotion—anxiety, anger, and the
like—can create neural static, sabotaging the ability of
theprefrontal lobe tomaintain working memory. That is
why when weareemotionally upset wesaywe"just can't
think straight"—and why continual emotional distress
can create deficits inachild's intellectual abilities, crip-
pling the capacity to learn.
These deficits, ifmore subtle, arenot always tapped
byIQtesting, though they show upthrough more tar-
geted neuropsychological measures, aswell asina
child's continual agitation and impulsivity. Inone study,
forexample, primary school boys who had above-aver-
age IQscores but nevertheless were doing poorly in
school were found viathese neuropsychological tests to
have impaired frontal cortex functioning.18They also
were impulsive and anxious, often disruptive and in
trouble—suggesting faulty prefrontal control over their
limbic urges. Despite their intellectual potential, these
are the children athighest risk for problems like64/661

academic failure, alcoholism, and criminality—not be-
cause their intellect isdeficient, but because their con-
trol over their emotional lifeisimpaired. The emotional
brain, quite separate from those cortical areas tapped by
IQtests, controls rage and compassion alike. These
emotional circuits are sculpted by experience
throughout childhood—and weleave those experiences
utterly to chance at our peril.
Consider, too, therole ofemotions ineven themost
"rational" decision-making. Inwork with far-reaching
implications forunderstanding mental life, Dr.Antonio
Damasio, aneurologist attheUniversity ofIowa College
ofMedicine, hasmade careful studies ofjust what isim-
paired inpatients with damage totheprefrontal-amyg-
dala circuit.19Their decision-making is terribly
flawed—and yetthey show nodeterioration atallinIQ
orany cognitive ability. Despite their intact intelligence,
they make disastrous choices inbusiness and their per-
sonal lives, and can even obsess endlessly over ade-
cision so simple as when to make an appointment.
Dr.Damasio argues that their decisions aresobad be-
cause they have lost access totheir emotional learning.
Asthemeeting point between thought and emotion, the
prefrontal-amygdala circuit isacrucial doorway tothe
repository forthelikes and dislikes weacquire over the
course ofalifetime. Cut offfrom emotional memory in65/661

the amygdala, whatever the neocortex mulls over no
longer triggers the emotional reactions that have been
associated with itinthepast—everything takes onagray
neutrality. Astimulus, beitafavorite petoradetested
acquaintance, nolonger triggers either attraction or
aversion; these patients have "forgotten" allsuch emo-
tional lessons because they nolonger have access to
where they are stored in the amygdala.
Evidence like this leads Dr. Damasio tothecounter-
intuitive position that feelings are typically indispens-
able forrational decisions; they point usintheproper
direction, where drylogic can then beofbest use. While
theworld often confronts uswith anunwieldy array of
choices (How should you invest your retirement sav-
ings? Whom should you marry?), theemotional learning
that life has given us(such asthe memory ofadis-
astrous investment orapainful breakup) sends signals
that streamline the decision byeliminating some op-
tions and highlighting others attheoutset. Inthis way,
Dr.Damasio argues, theemotional brain isasinvolved
in reasoning as is the thinking brain.
The emotions, then, matter for rationality. Inthe
dance offeeling and thought the emotional faculty
guides our moment-to-moment decisions, working
hand-in-hand with therational mind, enabling—or dis-
abling—thought itself. Likewise, thethinking brain plays66/661

anexecutive role inour emotions—except inthose mo-
ments when emotions surge outofcontrol and theemo-
tional brain runs rampant.
Inasense wehave two brains, two minds—and two
different kinds ofintelligence: rational and emotional.
How wedoinlifeisdetermined byboth—it isnot just
IQ,but emotional intelligence that matters. Indeed, in-
tellect cannot work atitsbest without emotional intelli-
gence. Ordinarily thecomplementarity oflimbic system
and neocortex, amygdala and prefrontal lobes, means
each isafullpartner inmental life. When these partners
interact well, emotional intelligence rises—as does intel-
lectual ability.
This turns the old understanding ofthe tension
between reason and feeling onitshead: itisnotthat we
want todoaway with emotion and put reason inits
place, asErasmus had it,butinstead find theintelligent
balance ofthe two. The oldparadigm held anideal of
reason freed ofthepull ofemotion. The new paradigm
urges ustoharmonize head and heart. Todothat well in
our lives means wemust first understand more exactly
what it means to use emotion intelligently.67/661

PART TWO
THE NATURE OF
EMOTIONAL
INTELLIGENCE

3
When Smart Is Dumb
Exactly why David Pologruto, ahigh-school physics
teacher, was stabbed with akitchen knife byone ofhis
star students isstill debatable. But thefacts aswidely re-
ported are these:
Jason H., asophomore and straight-A student ata
Coral Springs, Florida, high school, was fixated onget-
ting into medical school. Not just any medical
school—he dreamt ofHarvard. But Pologruto, hisphys-
icsteacher, had given Jason an80onaquiz. Believing
thegrade—a mere B—put hisdream injeopardy, Jason
took abutcher knife toschool and, inaconfrontation
with Pologruto inthephysics lab, stabbed histeacher in
the collarbone before being subdued in a struggle.
Ajudge found Jason innocent, temporarily insane
during the incident—a panel offour psychologists and
psychiatrists swore hewas psychotic during the fight.
Jason claimed hehad been planning tocommit suicide
because ofthetest score, and had gone toPologruto to
tellhim hewas killing himself because ofthebad grade.
Pologruto told adifferent story: "Ithink hetried tocom-
pletely domeinwith theknife" because hewas infuri-
ated over the bad grade.

After transferring toaprivate school, Jason graduated
two years later atthetopofhisclass. Aperfect grade in
regular classes would have given him astraight-A, 4.0
average, but Jason had taken enough advanced courses
toraise hisgrade-point average to4.614—way beyond
A+. Even asJason graduated with highest honors, his
old physics teacher, David Pologruto, complained that
Jason had never apologized oreven taken responsibility
for the attack.1
The question is,how could someone ofsuch obvious
intelligence dosomething soirrational—so downright
dumb? The answer: Academic intelligence has little to
dowith emotional life. The brightest among uscan
founder ontheshoals ofunbridled passions and unruly
impulses; people with high IQs can bestunningly poor
pilots of their private lives.
One ofpsychology's open secrets istherelative inabil-
ityofgrades, IQ, orSAT scores, despite their popular
mystique, topredict unerringly who will succeed inlife.
Tobesure, there isarelationship between IQand life
circumstances forlarge groups asawhole: many people
with very low IQs end upinmenial jobs, and those with
high IQs tend tobecome well-paid—but bynomeans
always.
There are widespread exceptions tothe rule that IQ
predicts success—many (ormore) exceptions than cases70/661

that fittherule. Atbest, IQcontributes about 20percent
tothefactors that determine lifesuccess, which leaves
80percent toother forces. Asone observer notes, "The
vast majority ofone's ultimate niche insociety isde-
termined bynon-IQ factors, ranging from social class to
luck."2
Even Richard Herrnstein and Charles Murray, whose
book The Bell Curve imputes aprimary importance to
IQ, acknowledge this; asthey point out, "Perhaps a
freshman with anSAT math score of500 had better not
have hisheart setonbeing amathematician, but ifin-
stead hewants torun hisown business, become aU.S.
Senator ormake amillion dollars, heshould not put
aside hisdreams…. The link between test scores and
those achievements isdwarfed bythe totality ofother
characteristics that he brings to life."3
Myconcern iswith akeysetofthese "other character-
istics," emotional intelligence: abilities such asbeing
able tomotivate oneself and persist intheface offrus-
trations; tocontrol impulse and delay gratification; to
regulate one's moods and keep distress from swamping
the ability tothink; toempathize and tohope. Unlike
IQ,with itsnearly one-hundred-year history ofresearch
with hundreds ofthousands ofpeople, emotional intelli-
gence isanew concept. Noone can yetsayexactly how
much ofthe variability from person toperson inlife's71/661

course itaccounts for. But what data exist suggest itcan
beaspowerful, and attimes more powerful, than IQ.
And while there arethose who argue that IQcannot be
changed much byexperience oreducation, Iwill show in
Part Five that the crucial emotional competencies can
indeed belearned and improved upon bychildren—if we
bother to teach them.
EMOTIONAL INTELLIGENCE AND
DESTINY
Iremember thefellow inmyown class atAmherst Col-
lege who had attained five perfect 800 scores onthe
SAT and other achievement tests hetook before enter-
ing. Despite his formidable intellectual abilities, he
spent most ofhistime hanging out, staying uplate, and
missing classes bysleeping until noon. Ittook him al-
most ten years to finally get his degree.
IQoffers little toexplain the different destinies of
people with roughly equal promises, schooling, and op-
portunity. When ninety-five Harvard students from the
classes ofthe1940s—a time when people with awider
spread ofIQ were atIvy League schools than is
presently the case—were followed into middle age, the
men with thehighest test scores incollege were notpar-
ticularly successful compared totheir lower-scoring
peers interms ofsalary, productivity, orstatus intheir72/661

field. Nor didthey have thegreatest lifesatisfaction, nor
the most happiness with friendships, family, and ro-
mantic relationships.4
Asimilar follow-up inmiddle age was done with 450
boys, most sons ofimmigrants, two thirds from families
onwelfare, who grew upinSomerville, Massachusetts,
atthetime a"blighted slum" afewblocks from Harvard.
Athird had IQs below 90.But again IQhad little rela-
tionship tohow well they had done atwork orintherest
oftheir lives; forinstance, 7percent ofmen with IQs un-
der 80were unemployed fortenormore years, but so
were 7percent ofmen with IQs over 100. Tobesure,
there was ageneral link (asthere always is)between IQ
and socioeconomic level atage forty-seven. But child-
hood abilities such asbeing able tohandle frustrations,
control emotions, and getonwith other people made
the greater difference.5
Consider also data from anongoing study ofeighty-
one valedictorians and salutatorians from the1981 class
inIllinois high schools. All, ofcourse, had the highest
grade-point averages intheir schools. But while they
continued toachieve well incollege, getting excellent
grades, bytheir late twenties they had climbed toonly
average levels ofsuccess. Ten years after graduating
from high school, only one infour were atthehighest73/661

level ofyoung people ofcomparable ageintheir chosen
profession, and many were doing much less well.
Karen Arnold, professor ofeducation atBoston
University, one ofthe researchers tracking the vale-
dictorians, explains, "Ithink we've discovered the'duti-
ful'—people who know how toachieve inthesystem. But
valedictorians struggle assurely aswealldo.Toknow
that aperson isavaledictorian istoknow only that heor
she isexceedingly good atachievement asmeasured by
grades. Ittells you nothing about how they react tothe
vicissitudes of life."6
And that istheproblem: academic intelligence offers
virtually nopreparation forthe turmoil—or opportun-
ity—life's vicissitudes bring. Yeteven though ahigh IQis
noguarantee ofprosperity, prestige, orhappiness inlife,
our schools and our culture fixate onacademic abilities,
ignoring emotional intelligence, asetoftraits—some
might call itcharacter—that also matters immensely for
ourpersonal destiny. Emotional lifeisadomain that, as
surely asmath orreading, can behandled with greater
orlesser skill, and requires itsunique setofcompeten-
cies. And how adept aperson isatthose iscrucial toun-
derstanding why one person thrives inlifewhile anoth-
er,ofequal intellect, dead-ends: emotional aptitude isa
meta-ability, determining how well wecanusewhatever
other skills we have, including raw intellect.74/661

Ofcourse, there aremany paths tosuccess inlife, and
many domains inwhich other aptitudes arerewarded.
Inour increasingly knowledge-based society, technical
skill iscertainly one. There isachildren's joke: "What do
you call anerd fifteen years from now?" The answer:
"Boss." But even among "nerds" emotional intelligence
offers anadded edge intheworkplace, asweshall seein
Part Three. Much evidence testifies that people who are
emotionally adept—who know and manage their own
feelings well, and who read and deal effectively with oth-
erpeople's feelings—are atanadvantage inany domain
oflife, whether romance and intimate relationships or
picking uptheunspoken rules that govern success inor-
ganizational politics. People with well-developed emo-
tional skills arealso more likely tobecontent and effect-
ive intheir lives, mastering the habits ofmind that
foster their own productivity; people who cannot mar-
shal some control over their emotional lifefight inner
battles that sabotage their ability forfocused work and
clear thought.
A DIFFERENT KIND OF
INTELLIGENCE
Tothecasual observer, four-year-old Judy might seem a
wallflower among her more gregarious playmates. She
hangs back from theaction atplaytime, staying onthe75/661

margins ofgames rather than plunging into thecenter.
But Judy isactually akeen observer ofthesocial politics
ofherpreschool classroom, perhaps themost sophistic-
ated ofher playmates inher insights into the tides of
feeling within the others.
Her sophistication isnotapparent until Judy's teacher
gathers thefour-year-olds around toplay what they call
the Classroom Game. The Classroom Game—a doll-
house replica ofJudy's own preschool classroom, with
stick figures who have forheads small photos ofthestu-
dents and teachers—is atest ofsocial perceptiveness.
When Judy's teacher asks hertoputeach girland boy in
thepart oftheroom they like toplay inmost—the art
corner, theblocks corner, and soon—Judy does sowith
complete accuracy. And when asked toputeach boy and
girl with thechildren they like toplay with most, Judy
shows she can match best friends for the entire class.
Judy's accuracy reveals that she has aperfect social
map ofher class, alevel ofperceptiveness exceptional
forafour-year-old. These aretheskills that, inlater life,
might allow Judy toblossom into astar inany ofthe
fields where "people skills" count, from sales and man-
agement to diplomacy.
That Judy's social brilliance was spotted atall, let
alone this early, was due toher being astudent atthe
Eliot-Pearson Preschool on the campus ofTufts76/661

University, where Project Spectrum, acurriculum that
intentionally cultivates avariety ofkinds ofintelligence,
was then being developed. Project Spectrum recognizes
that the human repertoire ofabilities goes farbeyond
the three R's, the narrow band ofword-and-number
skills that schools traditionally focus on. Itacknow-
ledges that capacities such asJudy's social perceptive-
ness are talents that aneducation can nurture rather
than ignore oreven frustrate. Byencouraging children
todevelop afullrange oftheabilities that they will actu-
ally draw ontosucceed, oruse simply tobefulfilled in
what they do, school becomes an education in life skills.
The guiding visionary behind Project Spectrum is
Howard Gardner, apsychologist attheHarvard School
ofEducation.7"The time has come," Gardner told me,
"tobroaden our notion ofthespectrum oftalents. The
single most important contribution education can make
toachild's development istohelp him toward afield
where histalents best suit him, where hewill besatis-
fied and competent. We've completely lost sight ofthat.
Instead wesubject everyone toaneducation where, if
you succeed, you will bebest suited tobeacollege pro-
fessor. And weevaluate everyone along theway accord-
ingtowhether they meet that narrow standard ofsuc-
cess. We should spend less time ranking children and
more time helping them toidentify their natural77/661

competencies and gifts, and cultivate those. There are
hundreds and hundreds ofways tosucceed, and many,
many different abilities that will help you get there."8
Ifanyone sees thelimits oftheoldways ofthinking
about intelligence, itisGardner. Hepoints outthat the
glory days ofthe IQtests began during World War I,
when two million American men were sorted out
through thefirst mass paper-and-pencil form oftheIQ
test, freshly developed byLewis Terman, apsychologist
atStanford. This ledtodecades ofwhat Gardner calls
the"IQ way ofthinking": "that people areeither smart
ornot, areborn that way, that there's nothing much you
can doabout it,and that tests can tellyou ifyou areone
ofthesmart ones ornot. The SAT test forcollege admis-
sions isbased onthe same notion ofasingle kind of
aptitude that determines your future. This way ofthink-
ing permeates society."
Gardner's influential 1983 book Frames ofMind was
amanifesto refuting theIQview; itproposed that there
was not just one, monolithic kind ofintelligence that
was crucial forlifesuccess, but rather awide spectrum
ofintelligences, with seven key varieties. His list in-
cludes the two standard academic kinds, verbal and
mathematical-logical alacrity, but itgoes ontoinclude
thespatial capacity seen in,say, anoutstanding artist or
architect; the kinesthetic genius displayed inthe78/661

physical fluidity and grace ofaMartha Graham orMagic
Johnson; and themusical gifts ofaMozart orYoYo Ma.
Rounding outthelistaretwo faces ofwhat Gardner calls
"the personal intelligences": interpersonal skills, like
those ofagreat therapist such asCarl Rogers oraworld-
class leader such asMartin Luther King, Jr.,and the"in-
trapsychic" capacity that could emerge, ontheone hand,
inthebrilliant insights ofSigmund Freud, or,with less
fanfare, intheinner contentment that arises from attun-
ing one's life to be in keeping with one's true feelings.
The operative word inthis view ofintelligences is
multiple: Gardner's model pushes way beyond the
standard concept ofIQasasingle, immutable factor. It
recognizes that thetests that tyrannized usaswewent
through school—from theachievement tests that sorted
usoutinto those who would beshunted toward technic-
alschools and those destined forcollege, tothe SATs
that determined what, ifany, college wewould beal-
lowed toattend—are based onalimited notion ofintelli-
gence, one outoftouch with thetrue range ofskills and
abilities that matter for life over and beyond IQ.
Gardner acknowledges that seven isanarbitrary fig-
ure forthe variety ofintelligences; there isnomagic
number tothe multiplicity ofhuman talents. Atone
point, Gardner and his research colleagues had
stretched these seven toalist oftwenty different79/661

varieties ofintelligence. Interpersonal intelligence, for
example, broke down into four distinct abilities: leader-
ship, the ability tonurture relationships and keep
friends, the ability toresolve conflicts, and skill atthe
kind of social analysis that four-year-old Judy excels at.
This multifaceted view ofintelligence offers aricher
picture ofachild's ability and potential forsuccess than
thestandard IQ.When Spectrum students were evalu-
ated ontheStanford-Binet Intelligence Scale—once the
gold standard ofIQtests—and again byabattery de-
signed tomeasure Gardner's spectrum ofintelligences,
there was nosignificant relationship between children's
scores onthe two tests.9The five children with the
highest IQs (from 125 to133) showed avariety ofpro-
files onthe ten strengths measured bythe Spectrum
test. Forexample, ofthefive "smartest" children accord-
ingtotheIQtests, one was strong inthree areas, three
had strengths intwo areas, and one "smart" child had
just one Spectrum strength. Those strengths were
scattered: four ofthese children's strengths were inmu-
sic, two inthevisual arts, one insocial understanding,
one inlogic, two inlanguage. None ofthefive high-IQ
kids were strong inmovement, numbers, ormechanics;
movement and numbers were actually weak spots for
two of these five.80/661

Gardner's conclusion was that "the Stanford-Binet In-
telligence Scale did not predict successful performance
across oronaconsistent subset ofSpectrum activities."
Onthe other hand, the Spectrum scores give parents
and teachers clear guidance about therealms that these
children will take aspontaneous interest in,and where
they will dowell enough todevelop the passions that
could one day lead beyond proficiency to mastery.
Gardner's thinking about the multiplicity ofintelli-
gence continues toevolve. Some tenyears after hefirst
published histheory, Gardner gave these nutshell sum-
maries of the personal intelligences:
Inter personal intelligence istheability tounder-
stand other people: what motivates them, how
they work, how towork cooperatively with them.
Successful salespeople, politicians, teachers, clini-
cians, and religious leaders arealllikely tobeindi-
viduals with high degrees ofinterpersonal intelli-
gence, Intra personal intelligence …isacorrelat-
iveability, turned inward. Itisacapacity toform
anaccurate, veridical model ofoneself and tobe
able touse that model tooperate effectively in
life.10
Inanother rendering, Gardner noted that thecore of
interpersonal intelligence includes the "capacities to81/661

discern and respond appropriately tothe moods, tem-
peraments, motivations, and desires ofother people." In
intra-personal intelligence, thekeytoself-knowledge, he
included "access toone's own feelings and theability to
discriminate among them and draw upon them toguide
behavior."11
SPOCK VS. DATA WHEN COGNITION
IS NOT ENOUGH
There isone dimension ofpersonal intelligence that is
broadly pointed to,butlittle explored, inGardner's elab-
orations: the role ofemotions. Perhaps this issobe-
cause, asGardner suggested tome, his work isso
strongly informed byacognitive-science model ofmind.
Thus hisview ofthese intelligences emphasizes cogni-
tion—the understanding ofoneself and ofothers in
motives, inhabits ofworking, and inputting that insight
into use inconducting one's own lifeand getting along
with others. But like thekinesthetic realm, where phys-
ical brilliance manifests itself nonverbally, therealm of
theemotions extends, too, beyond thereach oflanguage
and cognition.
While there isample room inGardner's descriptions
ofthepersonal intelligences forinsight into theplay of
emotions and mastery inmanaging them, Gardner and
those who work with him have not pursued ingreat82/661

detail therole offeeling inthese intelligences, focusing
more oncognitions about feeling. This focus, perhaps
unintentionally, leaves unexplored therich seaofemo-
tions that makes theinner lifeand relationships socom-
plex, socompelling, and sooften puzzling. And itleaves
yettobeplumbed both thesense inwhich there isintel-
ligence intheemotions and thesense inwhich intelli-
gence can be brought toemotions.
Gardner's emphasis onthecognitive elements inthe
personal intelligences reflects the Zeitgeist ofpsycho-
logy that has shaped hisviews. Psychology's overem-
phasis oncognition even intherealm ofemotion is,in
part, due toaquirk inthehistory ofthat science. During
themiddle decades ofthis century academic psychology
was dominated bybehaviorists inthemold ofB.F.Skin-
ner, who feltthat only behavior that could beseen ob-
jectively, from the outside, could bestudied with sci-
entific accuracy. The behaviorists ruled allinner life, in-
cluding emotions, out-of-bounds for science.
Then, with thecoming inthelate 1960s ofthe"cognit-
iverevolution," thefocus ofpsychological science turned
tohow themind registers and stores information, and
the nature ofintelligence. But emotions were still off-
limits. Conventional wisdom among cognitive scientists
held that intelligence entails acold, hard-nosed pro-
cessing offact. Itishyperrational, rather like Star Treks83/661

Mr. Spock, thearchetype ofdry information bytes un-
muddied byfeeling, embodying theidea that emotions
have noplace inintelligence and only muddle our pic-
ture of mental life.
The cognitive scientists who embraced this view have
been seduced bythecomputer astheoperative model of
mind, forgetting that, inreality, thebrain's wetware is
awash inamessy, pulsating puddle ofneurochemicals,
nothing like the sanitized, orderly silicon that has
spawned theguiding metaphor formind. The predomin-
antmodels among cognitive scientists ofhow themind
processes information have lacked anacknowledgment
that rationality isguided by—and can beswamped
by—feeling. The cognitive model is,inthis regard, an
impoverished view ofthemind, one that fails toexplain
theSturm und Drang offeelings that brings flavor tothe
intellect. Inorder topersist inthis view, cognitive sci-
entists themselves have had toignore therelevance for
their models ofmind oftheir personal hopes and fears,
their marital squabbles and professional jealousies—the
wash offeeling that gives lifeitsflavor and itsurgencies,
and which inevery moment biases exactly how (and
how well or poorly) information is processed.
The lopsided scientific vision ofanemotionally flat
mental life—which hasguided thelast eighty years ofre-
search on intelligence—is gradually changing as84/661

psychology has begun torecognize theessential role of
feeling inthinking. Rather like the Spockish character
Data inStar Trek: The Next Generation, psychology is
coming toappreciate thepower and virtues ofemotions
inmental life, aswell astheir dangers. After all,asData
sees (tohisown dismay, could hefeel dismay), hiscool
logic fails tobring the right human solution. Our hu-
manity ismost evident inour feelings; Data seeks to
feel, knowing that something essential ismissing. He
wants friendship, loyalty; like theTin Man inThe Wiz-
ard ofOz,helacks aheart. Lacking thelyrical sense that
feeling brings, Data can play music orwrite poetry with
technical virtuosity, but not feel itspassion. The lesson
ofData's yearning foryearning itself isthat thehigher
values ofthe human heart—faith, hope, devotion,
love—are missing entirely from the coldly cognitive
view. Emotions enrich; amodel ofmind that leaves
them out is impoverished.
When Iasked Gardner about his emphasis on
thoughts about feelings, ormetacognition, more than on
emotions themselves, heacknowledged that hetended
toview intelligence inacognitive way, but told me,
"When Ifirst wrote about the personal intelligences, I
was talking about emotion, especially inmynotion of
intrapersonal intelligence—one component isemotion-
ally tuning intoyourself. It'sthevisceral-feeling signals85/661

you getthat areessential forinterpersonal intelligence.
But asithas developed inpractice, thetheory ofmul-
tiple intelligence has evolved tofocus more onmeta-
cognition"—that is,awareness ofone's mental pro-
cesses—"rather than onthe full range ofemotional
abilities."
Even so,Gardner appreciates how crucial these emo-
tional and relationship abilities are inthe rough-and-
tumble oflife. Hepoints outthat "many people with IQs
of160 work forpeople with IQs of100, ifthe former
have poor intrapersonal intelligence and thelatter have
ahigh one. And intheday-to-day world nointelligence
ismore important than the interpersonal. Ifyou don't
have it,you'll make poor choices about who tomarry,
what jobtotake, and soon.Weneed totrain children in
the personal intelligences in school."
CAN EMOTIONS BE INTELLIGENT?
Togetafuller understanding ofjust what such training
might belike, wemust turn toother theorists who are
following Gardner's intellectual lead—most notably a
Yale psychologist, Peter Salovey, who has mapped in
great detail theways inwhich wecan bring intelligence
toour emotions.12This endeavor isnot new; over the
years even the most ardent theorists ofIQhave occa-
sionally tried tobring emotions within the domain of86/661

intelligence, rather than seeing "emotion" and "intelli-
gence" asaninherent contradiction interms. Thus E.L.
Thorndike, aneminent psychologist who was also influ-
ential inpopularizing thenotion ofIQinthe1920s and
1930s, proposed inaHarper's Magazine article that one
aspect of emotional intelligence, "social" intelli-
gence—the ability tounderstand others and "act wisely
inhuman relations"—was itself anaspect ofaperson's
IQ.Other psychologists ofthetime took amore cynical
view ofsocial intelligence, seeing itinterms ofskills for
manipulating other people—getting them todowhat you
want, whether they want toornot. But neither ofthese
formulations ofsocial intelligence held much sway with
theorists ofIQ,and by1960 aninfluential textbook on
intelligence tests pronounced social intelligence a"use-
less" concept.
But personal intelligence would not be ignored,
mainly because itmakes both intuitive and common
sense. For example, when Robert Steinberg, another
Yale psychologist, asked people todescribe an"intelli-
gent person," practical people skills were among the
main traits listed. More systematic research byStern-
berg ledhim back toThorndike's conclusion: that social
intelligence isboth distinct from academic abilities and
akeypart ofwhat makes people dowell inthepractical-
ities oflife. Among the practical intelligences that are,87/661

forinstance, sohighly valued inthe workplace isthe
kind ofsensitivity that allows effective managers topick
up tacit messages.13
Inrecent years agrowing group ofpsychologists has
come tosimilar conclusions, agreeing with Gardner that
theoldconcepts ofIQrevolved around anarrow band of
linguistic and math skills, and that doing well onIQ
tests was most directly apredictor ofsuccess inthe
classroom orasaprofessor butless and less soaslife's
paths diverged from academe. These psycholo-
gists—Sternberg and Salovey among them—have taken a
wider view ofintelligence, trying toreinvent itinterms
ofwhat ittakes tolead lifesuccessfully. And that line of
enquiry leads back toanappreciation ofjust how crucial
"personal" or emotional intelligence is.
Salovey subsumes Gardner's personal intelligences in
hisbasic definition ofemotional intelligence, expanding
these abilities into five main domains:14
1.Knowing one's emotions. Self-awareness—recogniz-
ingafeeling asithappens —is thekeystone ofemotional
intelligence. Aswewill seeinChapter 4,theability to
monitor feelings from moment tomoment iscrucial to
psychological insight and self-understanding. Aninabil-
itytonotice our true feelings leaves usattheir mercy.
People with greater certainty about their feelings are
better pilots oftheir lives, having asurer sense ofhow88/661

they really feel about personal decisions from whom to
marry to what job to take.
2.Managing emotions. Handling feelings sothey are
appropriate isanability that builds onself-awareness.
Chapter 5will examine thecapacity tosoothe oneself, to
shake offrampant anxiety, gloom, orirritability—and
theconsequences offailure atthis basic emotional skill.
People who arepoor inthis ability areconstantly bat-
tling feelings ofdistress, while those who excel initcan
bounce back farmore quickly from life's setbacks and
upsets.
3.Motivating oneself. AsChapter 6will show, mar-
shaling emotions intheservice ofagoal isessential for
paying attention, forself-motivation and mastery, and
forcreativity. Emotional self-control—delaying gratifica-
tion and stifling impulsiveness—underlies accomplish-
ment ofevery sort. And being able togetinto the"flow"
state enables outstanding performance ofallkinds.
People who have this skill tend tobemore highly pro-
ductive and effective in whatever they undertake.
4.Recognizing emotions inothers. Empathy, another
ability that builds onemotional self-awareness, isthe
fundamental "people skill." Chapter 7will investigate
the roots ofempathy, the social cost ofbeing
emotionally tone-deaf, and thereasons empathy kindles
altruism. People who areempathic aremore attuned to89/661

thesubtle social signals that indicate what others need
orwant. This makes them better atcallings such asthe
caring professions, teaching, sales, and management.
5.Handling relationships. The artofrelationships is,
inlarge part, skill inmanaging emotions inothers.
Chapter 8looks atsocial competence and incompetence,
and the specific skills involved. These are the abilities
that undergird popularity, leadership, and interpersonal
effectiveness. People who excel inthese skills dowell at
anything that relies oninteracting smoothly with others;
they are social stars.
Ofcourse, people differ intheir abilities ineach of
these domains; some ofusmay bequite adept athand-
ling, say, our own anxiety, butrelatively inept atsooth-
ingsomeone else's upsets. The underlying basis forour
level ofability is,nodoubt, neural, but aswewill see,
the brain isremarkably plastic, constantly learning.
Lapses inemotional skills can beremedied: toagreat
extent each ofthese domains represents abody ofhabit
and response that, with theright effort, canbeimproved
on.
IQ AND EMOTIONS INTELLIGENCE:
PURE TYPES90/661

IQand emotional intelligence arenotopposing compet-
encies, butrather separate ones. Weallmix intellect and
emotional acuity; people with ahigh IQbut low emo-
tional intelligence (orlow IQand high emotional intelli-
gence) are, despite the stereotypes, relatively rare.
Indeed, there isaslight correlation between IQand
some aspects ofemotional intelligence—though small
enough tomake clear these are largely independent
entities.
Unlike the familiar tests forIQ, there is,asyet, no
single paper-and-pencil test that yields an"emotional
intelligence score" and there may never beone. Al-
though there isample research oneach ofitscompon-
ents, some ofthem, such asempathy, arebest tested by
sampling aperson's actual ability atthe task—for ex-
ample, byhaving them read aperson's feelings from a
video oftheir facial expressions. Still, using ameasure
forwhat hecalls "ego resilience" which isquite similar
toemotional intelligence (itincludes themain social and
emotional competences), Jack Block, apsychologist at
the University ofCalifornia atBerkeley, has made a
comparison oftwo theoretical pure types: people high in
IQversus people high inemotional aptitudes.15The dif-
ferences are telling.
The high-IQ pure type (that is,setting aside emotional
intelligence) isalmost acaricature ofthe intellectual,91/661

adept inthe realm ofmind but inept inthe personal
world. The profiles differ slightly formen and women.
The high-IQ male istypified—no surprise—by awide
range ofintellectual interests and abilities. Heisambi-
tious and productive, predictable and dogged, and un-
troubled byconcerns about himself. Healso tends tobe
critical and condescending, fastidious and inhibited, un-
easy with sexuality and sensual experience, unexpress-
ive and detached, and emotionally bland and cold.
Bycontrast, men who are high inemotional intelli-
gence are socially poised, outgoing and cheerful, not
prone tofearfulness orworried rumination. They have a
notable capacity forcommitment topeople orcauses,
fortaking responsibility, and forhaving anethical out-
look; they aresympathetic and caring intheir relation-
ships. Their emotional lifeisrich, butappropriate; they
arecomfortable with themselves, others, and thesocial
universe they live in.
Purely high-IQ women have theexpected intellectual
confidence, are fluent inexpressing their thoughts,
value intellectual matters, and have awide range ofin-
tellectual and aesthetic interests. They also tend tobe
introspective, prone toanxiety, rumination, and guilt,
and hesitate toexpress their anger openly (though they
do so indirectly).92/661

Emotionally intelligent women, bycontrast, tend tobe
assertive and express their feelings directly, and tofeel
positive about themselves; lifeholds meaning forthem.
Like themen, they areoutgoing and gregarious, and ex-
press their feelings appropriately (rather than, say, in
outbursts they later regret); they adapt well tostress.
Their social poise lets them easily reach out tonew
people; they arecomfortable enough with themselves to
beplayful, spontaneous, and open tosensual experi-
ence. Unlike thewomen purely high inIQ,they rarely
feel anxious or guilty, or sink into rumination.
These portraits, ofcourse, areextremes—all ofusmix
IQand emotional intelligence invarying degrees. But
they offer aninstructive look atwhat each ofthese di-
mensions adds separately toaperson's qualities. Tothe
degree aperson has both cognitive and emotional intel-
ligence, these pictures merge. Still, ofthetwo, emotional
intelligence adds farmore ofthequalities that make us
more fully human.93/661

4
Know Thyself
Abelligerent samurai, anoldJapanese tale goes, once
challenged aZen master toexplain theconcept ofheav-
enand hell. But the monk replied with scorn, "You're
nothing butalout—I can't waste mytime with thelikes
of you!"
His very honor attacked, thesamurai flew into arage
and, pulling hissword from itsscabbard, yelled, "Icould
kill you for your impertinence."
"That," the monk calmly replied, "is hell."
Startled atseeing thetruth inwhat themaster pointed
outabout thefury that had him initsgrip, thesamurai
calmed down, sheathed hissword, and bowed, thanking
the monk for the insight.
"And that," said the monk, "is heaven."
The sudden awakening ofthesamurai tohisown agit-
ated state illustrates thecrucial difference between be-
ingcaught upinafeeling and becoming aware that you
arebeing swept away byit.Socrates's injunction "Know
thyself speaks tothis keystone ofemotional intelligence:
awareness of one's own feelings as they occur.
Itmight seem atfirst glance that ourfeelings areobvi-
ous; more thoughtful reflection reminds usoftimes we
have been alltoooblivious towhat wereally feltabout

something, orawoke tothese feelings late inthegame.
Psychologists use therather ponderous term metacog-
nition torefer toanawareness ofthought process, and
metamood tomean awareness ofone's own emotions. I
prefer theterm self-awareness, inthesense ofanongo-
ingattention toone's internal states.1Inthis self-reflex-
iveawareness mind observes and investigates experi-
ence itself, including the emotions.2
This quality ofawareness isakin towhat Freud de-
scribed asan"evenly hovering attention," and which he
commended tothose who would dopsychoanalysis.
Such attention takes inwhatever passes through aware-
ness with impartiality, asaninterested yetunreactive
witness. Some psychoanalysts callitthe"observing ego,"
thecapacity ofself-awareness that allows theanalyst to
monitor hisown reactions towhat thepatient issaying,
and which theprocess offree association nurtures inthe
patient.3
Such self-awareness would seem torequire anactiv-
ated neocortex, particularly thelanguage areas, attuned
toidentify and name theemotions being aroused. Self-
awareness isnot anattention that gets carried away by
emotions, overreacting and amplifying what isper-
ceived. Rather, itisaneutral mode that maintains self-
reflectiveness even amidst turbulent emotions. William
Styron seems tobedescribing something like this95/661

faculty ofmind inwriting ofhisdeep depression, telling
ofasense "ofbeing accompanied byasecond self—a
wraithlike observer who, notsharing thedementia ofhis
double, isable towatch with dispassionate curiosity as
his companion struggles."4
Atitsbest, self-observation allows just such anequan-
imous awareness ofpassionate orturbulent feelings. At
aminimum, itmanifests itself simply asaslight
stepping-back from experience, aparallel stream ofcon-
sciousness that is"meta": hovering above orbeside the
main flow, aware ofwhat ishappening rather than being
immersed and lost init.Itisthedifference between, for
example, being murderously enraged atsomeone and
having theself-reflexive thought "This isanger I'mfeel-
ing" even asyou are enraged. Interms ofthe neural
mechanics ofawareness, this subtle shift inmental
activity presumably signals that neocortical circuits are
actively monitoring theemotion, afirst step ingaining
some control. This awareness ofemotions isthefunda-
mental emotional competence onwhich others, such as
emotional self-control, build.
Self-awareness, inshort, means being "aware ofboth
our mood and our thoughts about that mood," inthe
words ofJohn Mayer, aUniversity ofNew Hampshire
psychologist who, with Yale's Peter Salovey, isacofor-
mulator ofthe theory ofemotional intelligence.5Self-96/661

awareness can beanonreactive, nonjudgmental atten-
tion toinner states. But Mayer finds that this sensibility
also can beless equanimous; typical thoughts bespeak-
ing emotional self-awareness include "Ishouldn't feel
this way," "I'm thinking good things tocheer up," and,
for amore restricted self-awareness, the fleeting
thought "Don't think about it"inreaction tosomething
highly upsetting.
Although there isalogical distinction between being
aware offeelings and acting tochange them, Mayer
finds that forallpractical purposes thetwo usually go
hand-in-hand: torecognize afoul mood istowant toget
outofit.This recognition, however, isdistinct from the
efforts wemake tokeep from acting onanemotional im-
pulse. When wesay"Stop that!" toachild whose anger
has ledhim tohitaplaymate, wemay stop thehitting,
buttheanger still simmers. The child's thoughts arestill
fixated onthe trigger forthe anger—"But hestole my
toy!"—and the anger continues unabated. Self-aware-
ness hasamore powerful effect onstrong, aversive feel-
ings: therealization "This isanger I'm feeling" offers a
greater degree offreedom—not just theoption nottoact
on it, but the added option to try to let go of it.
Mayer finds that people tend tofall into distinctive
styles for attending to and dealing with their emotions:697/661

•Self-aware. Aware oftheir moods asthey arehaving
them, these people understandably have some sophistic-
ation about their emotional lives. Their clarity about
emotions may undergird other personality traits: they
areautonomous and sure oftheir own boundaries, are
ingood psychological health, and tend tohave apositive
outlook onlife. When they getinto abad mood, they
don't ruminate and obsess about it,and areable toget
outofitsooner. Inshort, their mindfulness helps them
manage their emotions.
•Engulfed. These arepeople who often feel swamped
bytheir emotions and helpless toescape them, as
though their moods have taken charge. They aremer-
curial and not very aware oftheir feelings, sothat they
arelost inthem rather than having some perspective. As
aresult, they dolittle totrytoescape bad moods, feeling
that they have nocontrol over their emotional life. They
often feel overwhelmed and emotionally out of control.
•Accepting. While these people areoften clear about
what they arefeeling, they also tend tobeaccepting of
their moods, and sodon't trytochange them. There
seem tobetwo branches ofthe accepting type: those
who areusually ingood moods and sohave little motiv-
ation tochange them, and people who, despite their
clarity about their moods, are susceptible tobad ones
but accept them with alaissez-faire attitude, doing98/661

nothing tochange them despite their distress—a pattern
found among, say, depressed people who areresigned to
their despair.
THE PASSIONATE AND THE
INDIFFERENT
Imagine foramoment that you're onanairplane flying
from New York toSan Francisco. It's been asmooth
flight, but asyou approach theRockies thepilot's voice
comes over theplane intercom. "Ladies and gentlemen,
there's some turbulence ahead. Please return toyour
seats and fasten your seat-belts." And then the plane
hits the turbulence, which isrougher than you've ever
endured—the airplane istossed upand down and side to
side like a beach ball in the waves.
The question is,what doyou do? Are you thekind of
person who buries yourself inyour book ormagazine, or
continues watching the movie, tuning out the turbu-
lence? Orareyou likely totake outtheemergency card
and review theprecautions, orwatch theflight attend-
ants toseeifthey show signs ofpanic, orstrain tohear
the engines to see if there's anything worrisome?
Which ofthese responses comes more naturally tous
isasign ofour favored attentional stance under duress.
The airplane scenario itself isanitem from apsycholo-
gical test developed bySuzanne Miller, apsychologist at99/661

Temple University, toassess whether people tend tobe
vigilant, attending carefully toevery detail ofadistress-
ingpredicament, or,incontrast, deal with such anxious
moments bytrying todistract themselves. These two at-
tentional stances toward distress have very different
consequences forhow people experience their own emo-
tional reactions. Those who tune inunder duress can, by
thevery actofattending socarefully, unwittingly ampli-
fythe magnitude oftheir own reactions—especially if
their tuning inisdevoid oftheequanimity ofself-aware-
ness. The result isthat their emotions seem allthemore
intense. Those who tune out, who distract themselves,
notice less about their own reactions, and sominimize
the experience oftheir emotional response, ifnot the
size of the response itself.
Atthe extremes, this means that for some people
emotional awareness isoverwhelming, while forothers
itbarely exists. Consider the college student who, one
evening, spotted afire that had broken outinhisdorm,
went toget afire extinguisher, and put the fire out.
Nothing unusual—except that onhisway togettheex-
tinguisher and then onthe way back tothe fire, he
walked instead ofrunning. The reason? Hedidn't feel
there was any urgency.
This story was told tome byEdward Diener, a
University ofIllinois atUrbana psychologist who has100/661

been studying the intensity with which people experi-
ence their emotions.7The college student stood out in
hiscollection ofcase studies asone oftheleast intense
Diener had ever encountered. Hewas, essentially, aman
without passions, someone who goes through lifefeeling
little or nothing, even about an emergency like a fire.
Bycontrast, consider awoman attheopposite end of
Diener's spectrum. When sheonce lost herfavorite pen,
she was distraught fordays. Another time she was so
thrilled onseeing anadforabigsale onwomen's shoes
atanexpensive store that shedropped what shewas do-
ing, hopped inher car, and drove three hours tothe
store in Chicago.
Diener finds that women, ingeneral, feel both positive
and negative emotions more strongly than domen. And,
sex differences aside, emotional lifeisricher forthose
who notice more. For one thing, this enhanced emotion-
alsensitivity means that forsuch people theleast pro-
vocation unleashes emotional storms, whether heavenly
orhellish, while those attheother extreme barely exper-
ience any feeling even under the most dire
circumstances.
THE MAN WITHOUT FEELINGS
Gary infuriated hisfiancée, Ellen, because even though
hewas intelligent, thoughtful, and asuccessful surgeon,101/661

Gary was emotionally flat, completely unresponsive to
any and allshows offeeling. While Gary could speak
brilliantly ofscience and art, when itcame tohisfeel-
ings—even forEllen—he fellsilent. Try asshe might to
elicit some passion from him, Gary was impassive, obli-
vious. "Idon't naturally express myfeelings,' Gary told
thetherapist hesaw atEllen's insistence. When itcame
toemotional life, headded, "Idon't know what totalk
about; Ihave nostrong feelings, either positive or
negative."
Ellen was not alone inbeing frustrated byGary's
aloofness; asheconfided tohistherapist, hewas unable
tospeak openly about hisfeelings with anyone inhis
life. The reason: Hedidnotknow what hefeltinthefirst
place. Sofarashecould tell, hehad noangers, nosad-
nesses, no joys.8
Ashisown therapist observes, this emotional blank-
ness makes Gary and others like him colorless, bland:
"They bore everybody. That's why their wives send them
into treatment." Gary's emotional flatness exemplifies
what psychiatrists call alexithymia, from the Greek a-
fox"lack," lexis for"word," and thymos for"emotion."
Such people lack words fortheir feelings. Indeed, they
seem tolack feelings altogether, although this may actu-
ally bebecause oftheir inability toexpress emotion
rather than from anabsence ofemotion altogether. Such102/661

people were first noticed bypsychoanalysts; puzzled by
aclass ofpatients who were untreatable bythat method
because: they reported nofeelings, nofantasies, and col-
orless dreams—in short, noinner emotional lifetotalk
about atall.9The clinical features that mark alexithym-
icsinclude having difficulty describing feelings—their
own oranyone else's—and asharply limited emotional
vocabulary.10What's more, they have trouble discrimin-
ating among emotions aswell asbetween emotion and
bodily sensation, sothat they might tellofhaving but-
terflies inthestomach, palpitations, sweating, and dizzi-
ness—but they would not know they are feeling anxious.
"They give theimpression ofbeing different, alien be-
ings, having come from anentirely different world, liv-
inginthemidst ofasociety which isdominated byfeel-
ings," isthedescription given byDr.Peter Sifneos, the
Harvard psychiatrist who in1972 coined theterm alexi-
thymia.11Alexithymics rarely cry, forexample, but if
they dotheir tears arecopious. Still, they arebewildered
ifasked what thetears areallabout. One patient with
alexithymia was soupset after seeing amovie about a
woman with eight children who was dying ofcancer that
shecried herself tosleep. When hertherapist suggested
that perhaps shewas upset because themovie reminded
her ofher own mother, who was inactuality dying of
cancer, the woman sat motionless, bewildered and103/661

silent. When hertherapist then asked herhow shefeltat
that moment, shesaid shefelt"awful," butcouldn't cla-
rifyherfeelings beyond that. And, sheadded, from time
totime shefound herself crying, butnever knew exactly
what she was crying about.12
And that isthenub oftheproblem. Itisnotthat alexi-
thymics never feel, but that they are unable to
know—and especially unable toput into words—pre-
cisely what their feelings are. They areutterly lacking in
the fundamental skill ofemotional intelligence, self-
awareness—knowing what weare feeling asemotions
roilwithin us.Alexithymics belie thecommon-sense no-
tion that itisperfectly self-evident what wearefeeling:
they haven't aclue. When something—or more likely,
someone—does move them tofeeling, they find theex-
perience baffling and overwhelming, something toavoid
atallcosts. Feelings come tothem, when they come at
all, asabefuddling bundle ofdistress; asthe patient
who cried atthemovie putit,they feel "awful," butcan't
say exactly which kind of awful it is they feel.
This basic confusion about feelings often seems to
lead them tocomplain ofvague medical problems when
they are actually experiencing emotional distress—a
phenomenon known inpsychiatry assomaticizing, mis-
taking anemotional ache foraphysical one (and differ-
ent from apsychosomatic disease, inwhich emotional104/661

problems cause genuine medical ones). Indeed, much of
the psychiatric interest inalexithymics isinweeding
them outfrom among those who come todoctors seek-
ing help, for they are prone tolengthy—and fruit-
less—pursuit ofamedical diagnosis and treatment for
what is actually an emotional problem.
While noone canasyetsayforsure what causes alexi-
thymia, Dr. Sifneos proposes adisconnection between
the limbic system and the neocortex, particularly its
verbal centers, which fitswell with what wearelearning
about theemotional brain. Patients with severe seizures
who had that connection surgically severed torelieve
their symptoms, notes Sifneos, became emotionally flat,
like people with alexithymia, unable toputtheir feelings
into words and suddenly devoid offantasy life. Inshort,
though the circuits ofthe emotional brain may react
with feelings, theneocortex isnotable tosort outthese
feelings and add the nuance oflanguage tothem. As
Henry Roth observed inhisnovel Call ItSleep about
this power oflanguage, "Ifyou could putwords towhat
you felt, itwas yours." The corollary, ofcourse, isthe
alexithymic's dilemma: having nowords for feelings
means not making the feelings your own.
IN PRAISE OF GUT FEELING105/661

Elliot's tumor, growing just behind hisforehead, was the
size ofasmall orange; surgery removed itcompletely.
Although thesurgery was declared asuccess, afterward
people who knew him well said that Elliot was nolonger
Elliot—he had undergone adrastic personality change.
Once asuccessful corporate lawyer, Elliot could no
longer hold ajob. His wife left him. Squandering his
savings infruitless investments, hewas reduced toliving
in a spare bedroom at his brother's home.
There was apuzzling pattern toElliot's problem. In-
tellectually hewas asbright asever, butheused histime
terribly, getting lost inminor details; heseemed tohave
lost allsense ofpriority. Reprimands made nodiffer-
ence; hewas fired from asuccession oflegal jobs.
Though extensive intellectual tests found nothing wrong
with Elliot's mental faculties, hewent toseeaneurolo-
gist anyway, hoping that discovery ofaneurological
problem might gethim thedisability benefits towhich
hefelthewas entitled. Otherwise theconclusion seemed
to be that he was just a malingerer.
Antonio Damasio, the neurologist Elliot consulted,
was struck byone element missing from Elliot's mental
repertoire: though nothing was wrong with his logic,
memory, attention, orany other cognitive ability, Elliot
was virtually oblivious tohisfeelings about what had
happened tohim.13Most strikingly, Elliot could narrate106/661

thetragic events ofhislifewith complete dispassion, as
though hewere anonlooker tothelosses and failures of
hispast—without anote ofregret orsadness, frustration
oranger atlife's unfairness. His own tragedy brought
him nopain; Damasio felt more upset byElliot's story
than did Elliot himself.
The source ofthis emotional unawareness, Damasio
concluded, was theremoval, along with thebrain tumor,
ofpart ofElliot's prefrontal lobes. Ineffect, thesurgery
had severed ties between thelower centers oftheemo-
tional brain, especially the amygdala and related cir-
cuits, and thethinking abilities oftheneocortex. Elliot's
thinking had become computerlike, able tomake every
step inthecalculus ofadecision, but unable toassign
values todiffering possibilities. Every option was neut-
ral. And that overly dispassionate reasoning, suspected
Damasio, was the core ofElliot's problem: too little
awareness ofhisown feelings about things made Elliot's
reasoning faulty.
The handicap showed upeven inmundane decisions.
When Damasio tried tochoose atime and date forthe
next appointment with Elliot, theresult was amuddle of
indecisiveness: Elliot could find arguments for and
against every date and time that Damasio proposed, but
could not choose among them. Atthe rational level,
there were perfectly good reasons forobjecting toor107/661

accepting virtually every possible time fortheappoint-
ment. But Elliot lacked any sense ofhow hefelt about
any ofthetimes. Lacking that awareness ofhisown feel-
ings, he had no preferences at all.
One lesson from Elliot's indecisiveness isthe crucial
role offeeling innavigating theendless stream oflife's
personal decisions. While strong feelings cancreate hav-
ocinreasoning, thelack ofawareness offeeling can also
beruinous, especially inweighing the decisions on
which our destiny largely depends: what career topur-
sue, whether tostay with asecure joborswitch toone
that isriskier but more interesting, whom todate or
marry, where tolive, which apartment torent orhouse
tobuy—and onand onthrough life. Such decisions can-
notbemade well through sheer rationality; they require
gutfeeling, and theemotional wisdom garnered through
past experiences. Formal logic alone can never work as
thebasis fordeciding whom tomarry ortrust oreven
what jobtotake; these arerealms where reason without
feeling is blind.
The intuitive signals that guide usinthese moments
come intheform oflimbic-driven surges from thevis-
cera that Damasio calls "somatic markers"—literally, gut
feelings. The somatic marker isakind ofautomatic
alarm, typically calling attention toapotential danger
from agiven course ofaction. More often than notthese108/661

markers steer usaway from some choice that experi-
ence warns usagainst, though they can also alert ustoa
golden opportunity. Weusually donot, atthat moment,
recall what specific experiences formed this negative
feeling; allweneed isthesignal that agiven potential
course ofaction could bedisastrous. Whenever such a
gutfeeling rises up,wecan immediately drop orpursue
that avenue ofconsideration with greater confidence,
and sopare down our array ofchoices toamore man-
ageable decision matrix. The key tosounder personal
decision-making, in short: being attuned to our feelings.
PLUMBING THE UNCONSCIOUS
Elliot's emotional vacuity suggests that there may bea
spectrum ofpeople's ability tosense their emotions as
they have them. Bythelogic ofneuroscience, iftheab-
sence ofaneural circuit leads toadeficit inanability,
then therelative strength orweakness ofthat same cir-
cuit inpeople; whose brains are intact should lead to
comparable levels ofcompetence inthat same ability. In
terms oftherole ofprefrontal circuits inemotional at-
tunement, this suggests that forneurological reasons
some ofusmay more easily detect thestirring offear or
joythan doothers, and sobemore emotionally self-
aware.109/661

Itmay bethat atalent forpsychological introspection
hinges onthis same circuitry. Some ofusarenaturally
more attuned totheemotional mind's special symbolic
modes: metaphor and simile, along with poetry, song,
and fable, areallcast inthelanguage oftheheart. Sotoo
aredreams and myths, inwhich loose associations de-
termine theflow ofnarrative, abiding bythelogic ofthe
emotional mind. Those who have anatural attunement
totheir own heart's voice—the language ofemotion—are
sure tobemore adept atarticulating itsmessages,
whether asanovelist, songwriter, orpsychotherapist.
This inner attunement should make them more gifted in
giving voice tothe"wisdom oftheunconscious"—the felt
meanings ofour dreams and fantasies, thesymbols that
embody our deepest wishes.
Self-awareness isfundamental topsychological in-
sight; this isthe faculty that much ofpsychotherapy
means tostrengthen. Indeed, Howard Gardner's model
forintrapsychic intelligence isSigmund Freud, thegreat
mapper ofthepsyche's secret dynamics. AsFreud made
clear, much ofemotional life isunconscious; feelings
that stirwithin usdonotalways cross thethreshold into
awareness. Empirical verification ofthis psychological
axiom comes, forinstance, from experiments onuncon-
scious emotions, such asthe remarkable finding that
people form definite likings forthings they donoteven110/661

realize they have seen before. Any emotion can be—and
often is—unconscious.
The physiological beginnings ofanemotion typically
occur before aperson isconsciously aware ofthefeeling
itself. For example, when people who fear snakes are
shown pictures ofsnakes, sensors ontheir skin will de-
tect sweat breaking out, asign ofanxiety, though they
say they donot feel any fear. The sweat shows upin
such people even when thepicture ofasnake ispresen-
tedsorapidly that they have noconscious idea ofwhat,
exactly, they just saw, letalone that they arebeginning
togetanxious. Assuch preconscious emotional stirrings
continue tobuild, they eventually become strong
enough tobreak into awareness. Thus there are two
levels ofemotion, conscious and unconscious. The mo-
ment ofanemotion coming into awareness marks itsre-
gistering as such in the frontal cortex.14
Emotions that simmer beneath the threshold of
awareness can have apowerful impact onhow weper-
ceive and react, even though wehave noidea they areat
work. Take someone who isannoyed byarude en-
counter early intheday, and then ispeevish forhours
afterward, taking affront where none isintended and
snapping atpeople fornoreal reason. Hemay well be
oblivious tohiscontinuing irritability and will besur-
prised ifsomeone calls attention toit,though itstews111/661

just out ofhisawareness and dictates hiscurt replies.
But once that reaction isbrought into awareness—once
itregisters inthecortex—he can evaluate things anew,
decide toshrug offthe feelings left earlier inthe day,
and change hisoutlook and mood. Inthis way emotional
self-awareness isthebuilding block ofthenext funda-
mental ofemotional intelligence: being able toshake off
a bad mood.112/661

5
Passion's Slaves
Thou has been . . .
A man that Fortune's buffets and rewards
Has taken with equal thanks. …Give me that man
That is not passion's slave, and I will wear him
In my heart's core, aye, in my heart of hearts
As I do thee.. ..
—HAMLET TO HIS FRIEND HORATIO
Asense ofself-mastery, ofbeing able towithstand the
emotional storms that the buffeting ofFortune brings
rather than being "passion's slave," has been praised as
avirtue since thetime ofPlato. The ancient Greek word
foritwas sophrosyne, "care and intelligence inconduct-
ingone's life; atempered balance and wisdom," asPage
DuBois, aGreek scholar, translates it.The Romans and
the early Christian church called ittemperantia, tem-
perance, therestraining ofemotional excess. The goal is
balance, notemotional suppression: every feeling hasits
value and significance. Alifewithout passion would bea
dull wasteland ofneutrality, cutoffand isolated from
the richness oflife itself. But, asAristotle observed,
what iswanted isappropriate emotion, feeling

proportionate tocircumstance. When emotions aretoo
muted they create dullness and distance; when out of
control, tooextreme and persistent, they become patho-
logical, asinimmobilizing depression, overwhelming
anxiety, raging anger, manic agitation.
Indeed, keeping our distressing emotions incheck is
the key toemotional well-being; extremes—emotions
that wax too intensely orfortoo long—undermine our
stability. Ofcourse, itisnotthat weshould feel only one
kind ofemotion; being happy allthetime somehow sug-
gests theblandness ofthose smiley-face badges that had
afaddish moment inthe1970s. There ismuch tobesaid
fortheconstructive contribution ofsuffering tocreative
and spiritual life; suffering can temper the soul.
Downs aswell asups spice life, butneed tobeinbal-
ance. Inthecalculus oftheheart itistheratio ofpositive
tonegative emotions that determines thesense ofwell-
being—at least that istheverdict from studies ofmood
inwhich hundreds ofmen and women have carried
beepers that reminded them atrandom times torecord
their emotions atthat moment.1Itisnot that people
need toavoid unpleasant feelings tofeel content, but
rather that stormy feelings notgounchecked, displacing
allpleasant moods. People who have strong episodes of
anger ordepression can still feel asense ofwell-being if
they have acountervailing setofequally joyous orhappy114/661

times. These studies also affirm the independence of
emotional from academic intelligence, finding little or
norelationship between grades orIQand people's
emotional well-being.
Just asthere isasteady murmur ofbackground
thoughts inthe mind, there isaconstant emotional
hum; beep someone atsixA.M. orseven P.M. and he
will always beinsome mood orother. Ofcourse, onany
two mornings someone can have very different moods;
but when people's moods are averaged over weeks or
months, they tend toreflect that person's overall sense
ofwell-being. Itturns out that for most people, ex-
tremely intense feelings arerelatively rare; most ofus
fallinto thegray middle range, with mild bumps inour
emotional roller coaster.
Still, managing our emotions issomething ofafull-
time job: much ofwhat wedo—especially inour free
time—is anattempt tomanage mood. Everything from
reading anovel orwatching television tothe activities
and companions we choose can beaway tomake
ourselves feel better. The artofsoothing ourselves isa
fundamental life skill; some psychoanalytic thinkers,
such asJohn Bowlby and D.W.Winnicott, seethis as
one ofthemost essential ofallpsychic tools. The theory
holds that emotionally sound infants learn tosoothe
themselves bytreating themselves astheir caretakers115/661

have treated them, leaving them less vulnerable tothe
upheavals of the emotional brain.
Aswehave seen, thedesign ofthebrain means that
wevery often have little ornocontrol over when weare
swept byemotion, nor over what emotion itwill be.But
wecan have some sayinhow long anemotion will last.
The issue arises notwith garden-variety sadness, worry,
oranger; normally such moods pass with time and pa-
tience. But when these emotions areofgreat intensity
and linger past anappropriate point, they shade over in-
totheir distressing extremes—chronic anxiety, uncon-
trollable rage, depression. And, attheir most severe and
intractable, medication, psychotherapy, orboth may be
needed to lift them.
Inthese times, one sign ofthecapacity foremotional
self-regulation may berecognizing when chronic agita-
tion oftheemotional brain istoostrong tobeovercome
without pharmacologic help. For example, two thirds of
those who suffer from manic-depression have never
been treated forthedisorder. But lithium ornewer med-
ications can thwart thecharacteristic cycle ofparalyzing
depression alternating with manic episodes that mix
chaotic elation and grandiosity with irritation and rage.
One problem with manic-depression isthat while people
areinthethroes ofmania they often feel sooverly con-
fident that they seenoneed forhelp ofany kind despite116/661

thedisastrous decisions they aremaking. Insuch severe
emotional disorders psychiatric medication offers atool
for managing life better.
But when itcomes tovanquishing the more usual
range ofbad moods, wearelefttoour own devices. Un-
fortunately, those devices are not always effective—at
least such isthe conclusion reached byDiane Tice, a
psychologist atCase Western Reserve University, who
asked more than four hundred men and women about
thestrategies they used toescape foul moods, and how
successful those tactics were for them.2
Not everyone agrees with the philosophical premise
that bad moods should bechanged; there are, Tice
found, "mood purists," the5percent orsoofpeople who
said they never trytochange amood since, intheir view,
allemotions are "natural" and should beexperienced
just asthey present themselves, nomatter how dispirit-
ing. And then there were those who regularly sought to
getinto unpleasant moods forpragmatic reasons: physi-
cians who needed tobesomber togive patients bad
news; social activists who nurtured their outrage atin-
justice soastobemore effective inbattling it;even a
young man who told ofworking uphisanger tohelp his
little brother with playground bullies. And some people
were positively Machiavellian about manipulating
moods—witness the bill collectors who purposely117/661

worked themselves into arage inorder tobeallthe
firmer with deadbeats.3But these rare purposive cultiv-
ations ofunpleasantness aside, most everyone com-
plained ofbeing atthemercy oftheir moods. People's
track records atshaking bad moods were decidedly
mixed.
THE ANATOMY OF RAGE?
Say someone inanother carcuts dangerously close to
you asyou aredriving onthefreeway. Ifyour reflexive
thought is"That son ofabitch!" itmatters immensely
forthe trajectory ofrage whether that thought isfol-
lowed bymore thoughts ofoutrage and revenge: "He
could have hitme! That bastard—I can't lethim get
away with that!" Your knuckles whiten asyou tighten
your hold on the steering wheel, asurrogate for
strangling histhroat. Your body mobilizes tofight, not
run—leaving you trembling, beads ofsweat onyour
forehead, your heart pounding, themuscles inyour face
locked inascowl. You want tokilltheguy. Then, should
acarbehind you honk because you have slowed down
after theclose call, you areapttoexplode inrage atthat
driver too. Such isthe stuff ofhypertension, reckless
driving, even freeway shootings.
Contrast that sequence ofbuilding rage with amore
charitable line ofthought toward thedriver who cutyou118/661

off: "Maybe hedidn't see me, ormaybe hehad some
good reason fordriving socarelessly, such asamedical
emergency." That line ofpossibility tempers anger with
mercy, oratleast anopen mind, short-circuiting the
buildup ofrage. The problem, asAristotle's challenge to
have only appropriate anger reminds us,isthat more
often than notouranger surges outofcontrol. Benjamin
Franklin put itwell: "Anger isnever without areason,
but seldom a good one."
There are, ofcourse, different kinds ofanger. The
amygdala may well beamain source ofthe sudden
spark ofrage wefeel atthe driver whose carelessness
endangers us.But the other end ofthe emotional cir-
cuitry, the neocortex, most likely foments more calcu-
lated angers, such ascool-headed revenge oroutrage at
unfairness orinjustice. Such thoughtful angers arethose
most likely, asFranklin putit,to"have good reasons" or
seem to.
Ofallthe moods that people want toescape, rage
seems tobethemost intransigent; Tice found anger is
themood people areworst atcontrolling. Indeed, anger
isthemost seductive ofthenegative emotions; theself-
righteous inner monologue that propels italong fills the
mind with the most convincing arguments forventing
rage. Unlike sadness, anger isenergizing, even exhilar-
ating. Anger's seductive, persuasive power may initself119/661

explain why some views about itaresocommon: that
anger isuncontrollable, orthat, atany rate, itshould not
becontrolled, and that venting anger in"catharsis" isall
tothe good. Acontrasting view, perhaps areaction
against thebleak picture ofthese other two, holds that
anger can beprevented entirely. But acareful reading of
research findings suggests that allthese common atti-
tudes toward anger are misguided, ifnot outright
myths.4
The train ofangry thoughts that stokes anger isalso
potentially thekey toone ofthemost powerful ways to
defuse anger: undermining theconvictions that arefuel-
ingtheanger inthefirst place. The longer weruminate
about what hasmade usangry, themore "good reasons"
and self-justifications forbeing angry wecan invent.
Brooding fuels anger's flames. But seeing things differ-
ently douses those flames. Tice found that reframing a
situation more positively was one ofthe most potent
ways to put anger to rest.
The Rage "Rush"
That finding squares well with the conclusions of
University ofAlabama psychologist Dolf Zillmann, who,
inalengthy series ofcareful experiments, hastaken pre-
cise measure ofanger and theanatomy ofrage.5Given
theroots ofanger inthefight wing ofthefight-or-flight120/661

response, itisnosurprise that Zillmann finds that auni-
versal trigger foranger isthesense ofbeing endangered.
Endangerment can besignaled not just byanoutright
physical threat but also, asismore often thecase, bya
symbolic threat toself-esteem ordignity: being treated
unjustly orrudely, being insulted ordemeaned, being
frustrated inpursuing animportant goal. These percep-
tions actastheinstigating trigger foralimbic surge that
hasadual effect onthebrain. One part ofthat surge isa
release ofcatecholamines, which generate aquick, epis-
odic rush ofenergy, enough for"one course ofvigorous
action," asZillmann puts it,"such asinfight orflight."
This energy surge lasts forminutes, during which it
readies thebody foragood fight oraquick flight, de-
pending on how the emotional brain sizes up the
opposition.
Meanwhile, another amygdala-driven ripple through
theadrenocortical branch ofthenervous system creates
ageneral tonic background ofaction readiness, which
lasts much longer than thecatecholamine energy surge.
This generalized adrenal and cortical excitation can last
forhours and even days, keeping theemotional brain in
special readiness forarousal, and becoming afounda-
tion onwhich subsequent reactions can build with par-
ticular quickness. Ingeneral, thehair-trigger condition
created byadrenocortical arousal explains why people121/661

aresomuch more prone toanger ifthey have already
been provoked orslightly irritated bysomething else.
Stress ofallsorts creates adrenocortical arousal, lower-
ing the threshold for what provokes anger. Thus
someone who has had ahard day atwork isespecially
vulnerable tobecoming enraged later athome by
something—the kids being toonoisy ormessy, say—that
under other circumstances would not bepowerful
enough to trigger an emotional hijacking.
Zillmann comes tothese insights onanger through
careful experimentation. Inatypical study, forexample,
hehad aconfederate provoke men and women who had
volunteered bymaking snide remarks about them. The
volunteers then watched apleasant orupsetting film.
Later thevolunteers were given thechance toretaliate
against the confederate bygiving anevaluation they
thought would beused inadecision whether ornot to
hire him. The intensity oftheir retaliation was directly
proportional tohow aroused they had gotten from the
film they had just watched; they were angrier after see-
ing the unpleasant film, and gave the worst ratings.
Anger Builds on Anger
Zillmann's studies seem toexplain thedynamic atwork
inafamiliar domestic drama Iwitnessed one day while
shopping. Down the supermarket aisle drifted the122/661

emphatic, measured tones ofayoung mother toherson,
about three: "Put … it … back!"
"But Iwant it!"hewhined, clinging more tightly toa
Ninja Turtles cereal box.
"Put it back!" Louder, her anger taking over.
Atthat moment the baby inher shopping cart seat
dropped thejarofjelly shehad been mouthing. When it
shattered onthefloor themother yelled, "That's it!"and,
inafury, slapped thebaby, grabbed thethree-year-old's
box and slammed itonto thenearest shelf, scooped him
upbythe waist, and rushed down the aisle, the shop-
ping cart careening perilously infront, the baby now
crying, her son, hislegs dangling, protesting, "Put me
down, put me down!"
Zillmann hasfound that when thebody isalready ina
state ofedginess, like themother's, and something trig-
gers anemotional hijacking, the subsequent emotion,
whether anger oranxiety, isofespecially great intensity.
This dynamic isatwork when someone becomes en-
raged. Zillmann sees escalating anger as"asequence of
provocations, each triggering anexcitatory reaction that
dissipates slowly." Inthis sequence every successive
anger-provoking thought orperception becomes amini-
trigger foramygdala-driven surges ofcatecholamines,
each building onthehormonal momentum ofthose that
went before. Asecond comes before the first has123/661

subsided, and athird ontop ofthose, and soon; each
wave rides the tails ofthose before, quickly escalating
thebody's level ofphysiological arousal. Athought that
comes later inthis buildup triggers afargreater intens-
ityofanger than one that comes atthebeginning. Anger
builds onanger; theemotional brain heats up.Bythen
rage, unhampered by reason, easily erupts in violence.
Atthis point people areunforgiving and beyond being
reasoned with; their thoughts revolve around revenge
and reprisal, oblivious towhat the consequences may
be.This high level ofexcitation, Zillmann says, "fosters
anillusion ofpower and invulnerability that may inspire
and facilitate aggression" astheenraged person, "failing
cognitive guidance," falls back onthemost primitive of
responses. The limbic urge isascendant; therawest les-
sons of life's brutality become guides to action.
Balm for Anger
Given this analysis ofthe anatomy ofrage, Zillmann
sees two main ways ofintervening. One way ofdefusing
anger istoseize onand challenge thethoughts that trig-
gerthesurges ofanger, since itistheoriginal appraisal
ofaninteraction that confirms and encourages thefirst
burst ofanger, and thesubsequent reappraisals that fan
theflames. Timing matters; theearlier intheanger cycle
the more effective. Indeed, anger can becompletely124/661

short-circuited ifthemitigating information comes be-
fore the anger is acted on.
The power ofunderstanding todeflate anger isclear
from another ofZillmann's experiments, inwhich arude
assistant (aconfederate) insulted and provoked volun-
teers who were riding anexercise bike. When thevolun-
teers were given thechance toretaliate against therude
experimenter (again, bygiving abad evaluation they
thought would beused inweighing hiscandidacy fora
job) they didsowith anangry glee. But inone version of
the experiment another confederate entered after the
volunteers had been provoked, and just before the
chance toretaliate; she told the provocative experi-
menter hehad aphone call down thehall. Ashelefthe
made asnide remark tohertoo. But shetook itingood
spirits, explaining after heleftthat hewas under terrible
pressures, upset about his upcoming graduate orals.
After that theirate volunteers, when offered thechance
toretaliate against therude fellow, chose notto;instead
they expressed compassion for his plight.
Such mitigating information allows areappraisal of
theanger-provoking events. But there isaspecific win-
dow ofopportunity for this de-escalation. Zillmann
finds itworks well atmoderate levels ofanger; athigh
levels ofrage itmakes nodifference because ofwhat he
calls "cognitive incapacitation"—in other words, people125/661

can nolonger think straight. When people were already
highly enraged, they dismissed themitigating informa-
tion with "That's just toobad!" or"the strongest vulgar-
ities theEnglish language has tooffer," asZillmann put
it with delicacy.
Cooling Down
Once when Iwas about 13,inanangry fit,Iwalked
outofthehouse vowing Iwould never return. Itwas
abeautiful summer day, and Iwalked faralong lovely
lanes, tillgradually the stillness and beauty calmed
and soothed me, and after some hours Ireturned re-
pentant and almost melted. Since then when Iam
angry, I do this if I can, and find it the best cure.
The account isbyasubject inone ofthevery first sci-
entific studies ofanger, done in1899.6Itstill stands asa
model ofthesecond way ofde-escalating anger: cooling
offphysiologically bywaiting outtheadrenal surge ina
setting where there arenot likely tobefurther triggers
forrage. Inanargument, forinstance, that means get-
ting away from theother person forthetime being. Dur-
ingthe cooling-off period, the angered person can put
thebrakes onthecycle ofescalating hostile thought by
seeking outdistractions. Distraction, Zillmann finds, isa
highly powerful mood-altering device, for asimple126/661

reason: It's hard tostay angry when we're having a
pleasant time. The trick, ofcourse, istogetanger tocool
tothepoint where someone can have apleasant time in
the first place.
Zillmann's analysis ofthe ways anger escalates and
de-escalates explains many ofDiane Tice's findings
about the strategies people commonly say they use to
ease anger. One such fairly effective strategy isgoing off
tobealone while cooling down. Alarge proportion of
men translate this into going foradrive—a finding that
gives one pause when driving (and, Tice told me, in-
spired hertodrive more defensively). Perhaps asafer al-
ternative isgoing foralong walk; active exercise also
helps with anger. Sodorelaxation methods such asdeep
breathing and muscle relaxation, perhaps because they
change the body's physiology from the high arousal of
anger toalow-arousal state, and perhaps too because
they distract from whatever triggered theanger. Active
exercise may cool anger forsomething ofthesame reas-
on: after high levels ofphysiological activation during
the exercise, the body rebounds toalow level once it
stops.
But acooling-down period will notwork ifthat time is
used topursue the train ofanger-inducing thought,
since each such thought isinitself aminor trigger for
more cascades ofanger. The power ofdistraction isthat127/661

itstops that angry train ofthought. Inher survey of
people's strategies forhandling anger, Tice found that
distractions byand large help calm anger: TV, movies,
reading, and the like all interfere with the angry
thoughts that stoke rage. But, Tice found, indulging in
treats such asshopping foroneself and eating donot
have much effect; itisalltooeasy tocontinue with an
indignant train ofthought while cruising ashopping
mall or devouring a piece of chocolate cake.
Tothese strategies add those developed byRedford
Williams, apsychiatrist atDuke University who sought
tohelp hostile people, who areathigher risk forheart
disease, tocontrol their irritability.7One ofhisrecom-
mendations istouse self-awareness tocatch cynical or
hostile thoughts asthey arise, and write them down.
Once angry thoughts arecaptured this way, they can be
challenged and reappraised, though, asZillmann found,
this approach works better before anger hasescalated to
rage.
The Ventilation Fallacy
AsIsettle into aNew York City cab, ayoung man cross-
ingthestreet stops infront ofthecab towait fortraffic
toclear. The driver, impatient tostart, honks, motioning
fortheyoung man tomove outoftheway. The reply isa
scowl and an obscene gesture.128/661

"You sonofabitch!" thedriver yells, making threaten-
ing lunges with the cab byhitting the accelerator and
brake atthesame time. Atthis lethal threat, theyoung
man sullenly moves aside, barely, and smacks hisfist
against thecab asitinches byinto traffic. Atthis, the
driver shouts a foul litany of expletives at the man.
Aswemove along thedriver, still visibly agitated, tells
me, "You can't take any shit from anyone. You gotta yell
back—at least it makes you feel better!"
Catharsis—giving vent torage—is sometimes extolled
asaway ofhandling anger. The popular theory holds
that "itmakes you feel better." But, asZillmann's find-
ings suggest, there isanargument against catharsis. It
hasbeen made since the1950s, when psychologists star-
ted totest the effects ofcatharsis experimentally and,
time after time, found that giving vent toanger didlittle
ornothing todispel it(though, because oftheseductive
nature ofanger, itmay feel satisfying).8There may be
some specific conditions under which lashing outinan-
gerdoes work: when itisexpressed directly totheper-
son who isitstarget, when itrestores asense ofcontrol
orrights aninjustice, orwhen itinflicts "appropriate
harm" ontheother person and gets him tochange some
grievous activity without retaliating. But because ofthe
incendiary nature ofanger, this may beeasier tosay
than to do.9129/661

Tice found that ventilating anger isone oftheworst
ways tocool down: outbursts ofrage typically pump up
the emotional brain's arousal, leaving people feeling
more angry, not less. Tice found that when people told
oftimes they had taken their rage outontheperson who
provoked it,the net effect was toprolong the mood
rather than end it.Far more effective was when people
first cooled down, and then, inamore constructive or
assertive manner, confronted theperson tosettle their
dispute. AsIonce heard Chogyam Trungpa, aTibetan
teacher, reply when asked how best tohandle anger:
"Don't suppress it. But don't act on it."
SOOTHING ANXIETY: WHAT, ME
WORRY?
Oh, no!The muffler sounds bad. …What ifIhave to
take ittotheshop?… Ican't afford theexpense…. I'd
have todraw themoney from Jamie's college fund..
What ifIcan't afford histuition?… That bad school
report last week…. What ifhisgrades godown and he
can't get into college?… Muffler sounds bad. . . .
And sotheworrying mind spins oninanendless loop
oflow-grade melodrama, one setofconcerns leading on
tothe next and back again. The above specimen is
offered byLizabeth Roemer and Thomas Borkovec,130/661

Pennsylvania State University psychologists, whose re-
search onworrying—the heart ofallanxiety—has raised
the topic from neurotic's arttoscience.10There is,of
course, nohitch when worry works; bymulling over a
problem—that is,employing constructive reflection,
which can look like worrying—a solution can appear.
Indeed, thereaction that underlies worry isthevigilance
forpotential danger that has, nodoubt, been essential
forsurvival over thecourse ofevolution. When fear trig-
gers the emotional brain, part ofthe resulting anxiety
fixates attention onthethreat athand, forcing themind
toobsess about how tohandle itand ignore anything
else forthetime being. Worry is,inasense, arehearsal
ofwhat might gowrong and how todeal with it;thetask
ofworrying istocome upwith positive solutions for
life's perils by anticipating dangers before they arise.
The difficulty iswith chronic, repetitive worries, the
kind that recycle onand onand never getany nearer a
positive solution. Aclose analysis ofchronic worry sug-
gests that ithas alltheattributes ofalow-grade emo-
tional hijacking: the worries seem tocome from
nowhere, areuncontrollable, generate asteady hum of
anxiety, areimpervious toreason, and lock theworrier
into asingle, inflexible view ofthe worrisome topic.
When this same cycle ofworry intensifies and persists, it
shades over the line into full-blown neural hijackings,131/661

theanxiety disorders: phobias, obsessions and compul-
sions, panic attacks. Ineach ofthese disorders worry
fixates inadistinct fashion; forthephobic, anxieties riv-
etonthefeared situation; fortheobsessive, they fixate
onpreventing some feared calamity; inpanic attacks,
theworries can focus onafear ofdying oronthepro-
spect of having the attack itself.
Inallthese conditions the common denominator is
worry run amok. For example, awoman being treated
forobsessive-compulsive disorder had aseries ofrituals
that took most ofher waking hours: forty-five-minute
showers several times daily, washing her hands forfive
minutes twenty ormore times aday. She would not sit
down unless shefirst swabbed theseat with rubbing al-
cohol tosterilize it.Nor would she touch achild oran
animal—both were "too dirty." Allthese compulsions
were stirred byherunderlying morbid fear ofgerms; she
worried constantly that without herwashing and steril-
izing she would catch a disease and die.11
Awoman being treated for"generalized anxiety dis-
order"—the psychiatric nomenclature forbeing acon-
stant worrier—responded totherequest toworry aloud
for one minute this way:
Imight notdothis right. This may besoartificial that
itwon't beanindication ofthereal thing and weneed
togetatthereal thing. …Because ifwedon't getat132/661

thereal thing, Iwon't getwell. And ifIdon't getwell
I'll never be happy.12
Inthis virtuoso display ofworrying about worrying,
thevery request toworry forone minute had, within a
few short seconds, escalated tocontemplation ofa
lifelong catastrophe: "I'll never behappy." Worries typ-
ically follow such lines, anarrative tooneself that jumps
from concern toconcern and more often than not in-
cludes catastrophizing, imagining some terrible tragedy.
Worries arealmost always expressed inthemind's ear,
notitseye—that is,inwords, notimages—a fact that has
significance for controlling worry.
Borkovec and hiscolleagues began tostudy worrying
per sewhen they were trying tocome upwith atreat-
ment forinsomnia. Anxiety, other researchers have ob-
served, comes intwo forms: cognitive, orworrisome
thoughts, and somatic, the physiological symptoms of
anxiety, such assweating, aracing heart, ormuscle ten-
sion. The main trouble with insomniacs, Borkovec
found, was notthesomatic arousal. What kept them up
were intrusive thoughts. They were chronic worriers,
and could notstop worrying, nomatter how sleepy they
were. The one thing that worked inhelping them getto
sleep was getting their minds offtheir worries, focusing
instead onthe sensations produced byarelaxation133/661

method. Inshort, theworries could bestopped byshift-
ing attention away.
Most worriers, however, can't seem todothis. The
reason, Borkovec believes, has to do with a partial payoff
from worrying that ishighly reinforcing tothe habit.
There is,itseems, something positive inworries: wor-
ries are ways todeal with potential threats, with
clangers that may come one's way. The work ofworry-
ing—when itsucceeds—is torehearse what those
dangers are, and toreflect onways todeal with them.
But worry doesn't work allthat well. New solutions and
fresh ways ofseeing aproblem donot typically come
from worrying, especially chronic worry. Instead of
coming upwith solutions tothese potential problems,
worriers typically simply ruminate onthedanger itself,
immersing themselves inalow-key way inthedread as-
sociated with itwhile staying inthesame rutofthought.
Chronic worriers worry about awide range ofthings,
most ofwhich have almost nochance ofhappening; they
read dangers into life's journey that others never notice.
Yetchronic worriers tellBorkovec that worrying helps
them, and that their worries are self-perpetuating, an
endless loop ofangst-ridden thought. Why should worry
become what seems toamount toamental addiction?
Oddly, asBorkovec points out, theworry habit isrein-
forcing inthe same sense that superstitions are. Since134/661

people worry about many things that have avery low
probability ofactually occurring—a loved one dying ina
plane crash, going bankrupt, and the like—there is,to
the primitive limbic brain atleast, something magical
about it.Like anamulet that wards offsome anticipated
evil, the worry psychologically gets the credit forpre-
venting the danger it obsesses about.
The Work of Worrying
She had moved toLos Angeles from the Midwest,
lured byajobwith apublisher. But thepublisher was
bought byanother soon after, and she was left
without ajob. Turning tofreelance writing, anerratic
marketplace, she found herself either swamped with
work orunable topay her rent. She often had tora-
tion phone calls, and forthe first time was without
health insurance. This lack ofcoverage was particu-
larly distressing: she found herself catastrophizing
about her health, sure every headache signaled a
brain tumor, picturing herself inanaccident whenev-
ershe had todrive somewhere. She often found her-
self lost inalong reverie ofworry, amedley ofdis-
tress. But, she said, she found her worries almost
addictive.
Borkovec discovered another unexpected benefit to
worrying. While people areimmersed intheir worried135/661

thoughts, they donotseem tonotice thesubjective sen-
sations ofthe anxiety those worries stir—the speedy
heartbeat, thebeads ofsweat, theshakiness—and asthe
worry proceeds itactually seems tosuppress some of
that anxiety, atleast asreflected inheart rate. The se-
quence presumably goes something like this: The worri-
ernotices something that triggers theimage ofsome po-
tential threat ordanger; that imagined catastrophe in
turn triggers amild attack ofanxiety. The worrier then
plunges into along series ofdistressed thoughts, each of
which primes yetanother topic forworry; asattention
continues tobecarried along bythis train ofworry, fo-
cusing onthese very thoughts takes themind offtheori-
ginal catastrophic image that triggered the anxiety.
Images, Borkovec found, aremore powerful triggers for
physiological anxiety than arethoughts, soimmersion in
thoughts, tothe exclusion ofcatastrophic images, par-
tially alleviates theexperience ofbeing anxious. And, to
that extent, theworry isalso reinforced, asahalfway an-
tidote to the very anxiety it evoked.
But chronic worries areself-defeating toointhat they
take the form ofstereotyped, rigid ideas, not creative
breakthroughs that actually move toward solving the
problem. This rigidity shows upnotjust inthemanifest
content ofworried thought, which simply repeats more
orless the same ideas over and over. But ata136/661

neurological level there seems tobeacortical rigidity, a
deficit inthe emotional brain's ability torespond flex-
ibly tochanging circumstance. Inshort, chronic worry
works insome ways, butnotinother, more consequen-
tial ones: iteases some anxiety, but never solves the
problem.
The one thing that chronic worriers cannot doisfol-
low theadvice they aremost often given: "Just stop wor-
rying" (or, worse, "Don't worry—be happy"). Since
chronic worries seem tobelow-grade amygdala epis-
odes, they come unbidden. And, bytheir very nature,
they persist once they arise inthemind. But after much
experimentation, Borkovec discovered some simple
steps that can help even themost chronic worrier con-
trol the habit.
The first step isself-awareness, catching the worri-
some episodes as near their beginning as pos-
sible—ideally, assoon asorjust after thefleeting cata-
strophic image triggers the worry-anxiety cycle.
Borkovec trains people inthis approach byfirst teaching
them tomonitor cues foranxiety, especially learning to
identify situations that trigger worry, orthe fleeting
thoughts and images that initiate theworry, aswell as
the accompanying sensations ofanxiety inthe body.
With practice, people can identify the worries atan
earlier and earlier point intheanxiety spiral. People also137/661

learn relaxation methods that they can apply atthemo-
ment they recognize theworry beginning, and practice
therelaxation method daily sothey will beable touseit
on the spot, when they need it the most.
The relaxation method, though, isnotenough initself.
Worriers also need toactively challenge theworrisome
thoughts; failing this, theworry spiral will keep coming
back. Sothenext step istotake acritical stance toward
their assumptions: Isitvery probable that thedreaded
event will occur? Isitnecessarily thecase that there is
only one ornoalternative toletting ithappen? Are there
constructive steps tobetaken? Does itreally help torun
through these same anxious thoughts over and over?
This combination ofmindfulness and healthy skepti-
cism would, presumably, actasabrake ontheneural ac-
tivation that underlies low-grade anxiety. Actively gen-
erating such thoughts may prime thecircuitry that can
inhibit the limbic driving ofworry; atthe same time,
actively inducing arelaxed state counters thesignals for
anxiety the emotional brain issending throughout the
body.
Indeed, Borkovec points out, these strategies establish
atrain ofmental activity that isincompatible with
worry. When aworry isallowed torepeat over and over
unchallenged, itgains inpersuasive power; challenging
itbycontemplating arange ofequally plausible points of138/661

view keeps theone worried thought from being naively
taken astrue. Even some people whose worrying isseri-
ous enough toqualify forapsychiatric diagnosis have
been relieved of the worrying habit this way.
Ontheother hand, forpeople with worries sosevere
they have flowered into phobia, obsessive-compulsive
disorder, orpanic disorder, itmay beprudent—indeed,
asign ofself-awareness—to turn tomedication tointer-
rupt the cycle. Aretraining ofthe emotional circuitry
through therapy isstill called for, however, inorder to
lessen the likelihood that anxiety disorders will recur
when medication is stopped.13
MANAGING MELANCHOLY
The single mood people generally put most effort into
shaking issadness; Diane Tice found that people are
most inventive when itcomes totrying toescape the
blues. Ofcourse, notallsadness should beescaped; mel-
ancholy, like every other mood, has itsbenefits. The
sadness that aloss brings has certain invariable effects:
itcloses down our interest indiversions and pleasures,
fixes attention onwhat has been lost, and saps our en-
ergy forstarting new endeavors—at least forthe time
being. Inshort, itenforces akind ofreflective retreat
from life's busy pursuits, and leaves usinasuspended
state tomourn the loss, mull over itsmeaning, and,139/661

finally, make the psychological adjustments and new
plans that will allow our lives to continue.
Bereavement isuseful; full-blown depression isnot.
William Styron renders aneloquent description of"the
many dreadful manifestations ofthe disease," among
them self-hatred, asense ofworthlessness, a"dank joy-
lessness" with "gloom crowding inonme, asense of
dread and alienation and, above all,astifling anxiety."14
Then there aretheintellectual marks: "confusion, fail-
ure ofmental focus and lapse ofmemories," and, ata
later stage, his mind "dominated byanarchic distor-
tions," and "asense that mythought processes were en-
gulfed byatoxic and unnameable tide that obliterated
any enjoyable response tothe living world." There are
thephysical effects: sleeplessness, feeling aslistless asa
zombie, "akind ofnumbness, anenervation, but more
particularly anodd fragility," along with a"fidgety rest-
lessness." Then there istheloss ofpleasure: "Food, like
everything else within the scope ofsensation, was ut-
terly without savor." Finally, there was thevanishing of
hope asthe"gray drizzle ofhorror" took onadespair so
palpable itwas like physical pain, apain sounendurable
that suicide seemed a solution.
Insuch major depression, lifeisparalyzed; nonew be-
ginnings emerge. The very symptoms ofdepression be-
speak alife onhold. For Styron, nomedication or140/661

therapy helped; itwas thepassing oftime and therefuge
ofahospital that finally cleared away thedespondency.
But formost people, especially those with less severe
cases, psychotherapy canhelp, ascanmedication—Proz-
acisthetreatment ofthehour, butthere aremore than
adozen other compounds offering some help, especially
for major depression.
Myfocus here isthefarmore common sadness that at
itsupper limits becomes, technically speaking, a"sub-
clinical depression"—that is,ordinary melancholy. This
isarange ofdespondency that people can handle on
their own, ifthey have theinternal resources. Unfortu-
nately, some ofthestrategies most often resorted tocan
backfire, leaving people feeling worse than before. One
such strategy issimply staying alone, which isoften ap-
pealing when people arefeeling down; more often than
not, however, itonly adds asense ofloneliness and isol-
ation tothesadness. That may partly explain why Tice
found themost popular tactic forbattling depression is
socializing—going outtoeat, toaballgame ormovie; in
short, doing something with friends orfamily. That
works well iftheneteffect istogettheperson's mind off
hissadness. But itsimply prolongs themood ifheuses
the occasion just to mull over what put him in the funk.
Indeed, one ofthe main determinants ofwhether a
depressed mood will persist orliftisthedegree towhich141/661

people ruminate. Worrying about what's depressing us,
itseems, makes thedepression allthemore intense and
prolonged. Indepression, worry takes several forms, all
focusing onsome aspect ofthe depression itself—how
tired wefeel, how little energy ormotivation wehave,
forinstance, orhow little work we're getting done. Typ-
ically none ofthis reflection isaccompanied byany con-
crete course ofaction that might alleviate theproblem.
Other common worries include "isolating yourself and
thinking about how terrible you feel, worrying that your
spouse might reject you because you aredepressed, and
wondering whether you aregoing tohave another sleep-
less night," says Stanford psychologist Susan Nolen-
Hoeksma, who has studied rumination indepressed
people.15
Depressed people sometimes justify this kind ofru-
mination bysaying they aretrying to"understand them-
selves better"; infact, they arepriming the feelings of
sadness without taking any steps that might actually lift
their mood. Thus intherapy itmight beperfectly helpful
toreflect deeply onthe causes ofadepression, ifthat
leads toinsights oractions that will change thecondi-
tions that cause it.But apassive immersion inthesad-
ness simply makes it worse.
Rumination can also make thedepression stronger by
creating conditions that are, well, more depressing.142/661

Nolen-Hoeksma gives theexample ofasaleswoman who
gets depressed and spends somany hours worrying
about itthat she doesn't getaround toimportant sales
calls. Her sales then decline, making herfeel like afail-
ure, which feeds herdepression. But ifshereacted tode-
pression bytrying todistract herself, she might well
plunge into thesales calls asaway together mind off
the sadness. Sales would beless likely todecline, and
thevery experience ofmaking asale might bolster her
self-confidence, lessening the depression somewhat.
Women, Nolen-Hoeksma finds, arefarmore prone to
ruminate when they aredepressed than aremen. This,
she proposes, may atleast partly explain the fact that
women arediagnosed with depression twice asoften as
aremen. Ofcourse, other factors may come into play,
such aswomen being more open todisclosing their dis-
tress orhaving more intheir lives tobedepressed about.
And men may drown their depression inalcoholism, for
which their rate is about twice that of women.
Cognitive therapy aimed atchanging these thought
patterns has been found insome studies tobeonapar
with medication fortreating mild clinical depression,
and superior tomedication inpreventing thereturn of
mild depression. Two strategies areparticularly effective
inthebattle.16One istolearn tochallenge thethoughts
atthe center ofrumination—to question their validity143/661

and think ofmore positive alternatives. The other isto
purposely schedule pleasant, distracting events.
One reason distraction works isthat depressing
thoughts areautomatic, intruding onone's state ofmind
unbidden. Even when depressed people trytosuppress
their depressing thoughts, they often cannot come up
with better alternatives; once the depressive tide of
thought hasstarted, ithasapowerful magnetic effect on
the train ofassociation. For example, when depressed
people were asked tounscramble jumbled six-word sen-
tences, they were much better atfiguring out the de-
pressing messages ("The future looks very dismal") than
the upbeat ones ("The future looks very bright").17
The tendency for depression toperpetuate itself
shades even the kinds ofdistractions people choose.
When depressed people were given alistofupbeat or
ponderous ways togettheir minds offsomething sad,
such asthefuneral ofafriend, they picked more ofthe
melancholy activities. Richard Wenzlaff, theUniversity
ofTexas psychologist who did these studies, concludes
that people who arealready depressed need tomake a
special effort togettheir attention onsomething that is
completely upbeat, being careful not toinadvertently
choose something—a tearjerker movie, atragic nov-
el—that will drag their mood down again.
Mood-lifters144/661

Imagine that you're driving onanunfamiliar, steep,
and winding road through fog. Suddenly acarpulls
outofadriveway only afew feet infront ofyou, too
close foryou tostop intime. Your foot slams the
brake tothe floor and you gointo askid, your car
sliding into theside oftheother one. You seethat the
car isfull ofyoungsters, acarpool onthe way to
preschool—just before theexplosion ofglass shatter-
ingand metal bending into metal. Then, out ofthe
sudden silence after thecollision, you hear achorus
ofcrying. You manage torun totheother car, and see
that one ofthechildren islying motionless. You are
flooded with remorse and sadness over this
tragedy….
Such heart-wrenching scenarios were used togetvo-
lunteers upset inone ofWenzlaff sexperiments. The vo-
lunteers then tried tokeep thescene outoftheir minds
while they jotted notes about the stream oftheir
thoughts fornine minutes. Each time thethought ofthe
disturbing scene intruded into their minds, they made a
check mark asthey wrote. While most people thought
about theupsetting scene less and less astime went on,
those volunteers who were more depressed actually
showed apronounced increase inintruding thoughts of
the scene astime passed, and even made oblique145/661

references toitinthethoughts that were supposed tobe
distractions from it.
What's more, the depression-prone volunteers used
other distressing thoughts todistract themselves. As
Wenzlaff told me, "Thoughts areassociated inthemind
not just bycontent, but bymood. People have what
amounts toasetofbad-mood thoughts that come to
mind more readily when they arefeeling down. People
who getdepressed easily tend tocreate very strong net-
works ofassociation between these thoughts, sothat itis
harder tosuppress them once some kind ofbad mood is
evoked. Ironically, depressed people seem touseone de-
pressing topic togettheir minds offanother, which only
stirs more negative emotions."
Crying, one theory holds, may benature's way of
lowering levels ofthe brain chemicals that prime dis-
tress. While crying can sometimes break aspell ofsad-
ness, itcan also leave the person still obsessing about
thereasons fordespair. The idea ofa"good cry" ismis-
leading: crying that reinforces rumination only prolongs
the misery. Distractions break the chain ofsadness-
maintaining thinking; one oftheleading theories ofwhy
electroconvulsive therapy iseffective forthemost severe
depressions isthat itcauses aloss ofshort-term
memory—patients feel better because they can't remem-
berwhy they were sosad. Atany rate, toshake garden-146/661

variety sadness, Diane Tice found, many people repor-
ted turning todistractions such asreading, TV and
movies, video games and puzzles, sleeping, and day-
dreams such asplanning afantasy vacation. Wenzlaff
would add that themost effective distractions areones
that will shift your mood—an exciting sporting event, a
funny movie, anuplifting book. (Anote ofcaution here:
Some distractors inthemselves can perpetuate depres-
sion. Studies ofheavy TV watchers have found that,
after watching TV, they are generally more depressed
than before they started!)
Aerobic exercise, Tice found, isone ofthemore effect-
ivetactics forlifting mild depression, aswell asother
bad moods. But thecaveat here isthat themood-lifting
benefits ofexercise work best forthe lazy, those who
usually donot work out very much. For those with a
daily exercise routine, whatever mood-changing benefits
itoffers were probably strongest when they first took up
theexercise habit. Infact, forhabitual exercisers there is
areverse effect onmood: they start tofeel bad onthose
days when they skip their workout. Exercise seems to
work well because itchanges thephysiological state the
mood evokes: depression isalow-arousal state, and aer-
obics pitches the body into high arousal. Bythe same
token, relaxation techniques, which put thebody into a
low-arousal state, work well foranxiety, ahigh-arousal147/661

state, but not sowell fordepression. Each ofthese ap-
proaches seems towork tobreak thecycle ofdepression
oranxiety because itpitches the brain into alevel of
activity incompatible with theemotional state that has
had it in its grip.
Cheering oneself upthrough treats and sensual pleas-
ures was another fairly popular antidote tothe blues.
Common ways people soothed themselves when de-
pressed ranged from taking hotbaths oreating favorite
foods, tolistening tomusic orhaving sex. Buying one-
self agiftortreat togetoutofabad mood was particu-
larly popular among women, aswas shopping ingener-
al,even ifonly window-shopping. Among those incol-
lege, Tice found that eating was three times ascommon
astrategy for soothing sadness among women than
men; men, ontheother hand, were five times aslikely to
turn todrinking ordrugs when they felt down. The
trouble with overeating oralcohol asantidotes, of
course, isthat they can easily backfire: eating toexcess
brings regret; alcohol isacentral nervous system de-
pressant, and soonly adds totheeffects ofdepression
itself.
Amore constructive approach tomood-lifting, Tice
reports, isengineering asmall triumph oreasy success:
tackling some long-delayed chore around thehouse or
getting tosome other duty they've been wanting toclear148/661

up. Bythe same token, lifts toself-image also were
cheering, even ifonly intheform ofgetting dressed up
or putting on makeup.
One ofthe most potent—and, outside therapy, little
used—antidotes todepression isseeing things differ-
ently, orcognitive reframing. Itisnatural tobemoan
the end ofarelationship and towallow inself-pitying
thoughts such astheconviction that "this means I'llal-
ways bealone," butit'ssure tothicken thesense ofdes-
pair. However, stepping back and thinking about the
ways therelationship wasn't sogreat, and ways you and
your partner were mismatched—in other words, seeing
theloss differently, inamore positive light—is ananti-
dote tothesadness. Bythesame token, cancer patients,
nomatter how serious their condition, were inbetter
moods ifthey were able tobring tomind another patient
who was ineven worse shape ("I'm not sobad off—at
least Ican walk"); those who compared themselves to
healthy people were themost depressed.18Such down-
ward comparisons are surprisingly cheering: suddenly
what had seemed quite dispiriting doesn't look allthat
bad.
Another effective depression-lifter ishelping others in
need. Since depression feeds onruminations and preoc-
cupations with the self, helping others lifts usout of
those preoccupations asweempathize with people in149/661

pain oftheir own. Throwing oneself into volunteer
work—coaching Little League, being aBigBrother, feed-
ingthehomeless—was one ofthemost powerful mood-
changers inTice's study. But itwas also one ofthe
rarest.
Finally, atleast some people are able tofind relief
from their melancholy inturning toatranscendent
power. Tice told me, "Praying, ifyou're very religious,
works for all moods, especially depression."
REPRESSORS: UPBEAT DENIAL
"He kicked hisroommate inthestomach …"thesen-
tence begins. Itends, "…but hemeant toturn onthe
light."
That transformation ofanactofaggression into anin-
nocent, ifslightly implausible, mistake isrepression
captured invivo. Itwas composed byacollege student
who had volunteered forastudy ofrepressors, people
who habitually and automatically seem toblot emotion-
aldisturbance from their awareness. The beginning
fragment "He kicked hisroommate inthestomach …"
was given tothis student aspart ofasentence-comple-
tion test. Other tests showed that this small actofmen-
talavoidance was part ofalarger pattern inhislife, a
pattern oftuning outmost emotional upset.19While at
first researchers saw repressors asaprime example of150/661

the inability tofeel emotion—cousins ofalexithymics,
perhaps—current thinking sees them asquite proficient
inregulating emotion. They have become soadept at
buffering themselves against negative feelings, itseems,
that they are not even aware ofthe negativity. Rather
than calling them repressors, ashas been the custom
among researchers, amore apt term might be
unflappables.
Much ofthis research, done principally byDaniel
Weinberger, apsychologist now atCase Western
Reserve University, shows that while such people may
seem calm and imperturbable, they can sometimes
seethe with physiological upsets they are oblivious to.
During the sentence-completion test, volunteers were
also being monitored for their level ofphysiological
arousal. The repressors' veneer of calm was belied by the
agitation oftheir bodies: when faced with thesentence
about theviolent roommate and others like it,they gave
allthesigns ofanxiety, such asaracing heart, sweating,
and climbing blood pressure. Yetwhen asked, they said
they felt perfectly calm.
This continual tuning-out ofemotions such asanger
and anxiety isnot uncommon: about one person insix
shows thepattern, according toWeinberger. Intheory,
children might learn tobecome unflappable inany of
several ways. One might beasastrategy forsurviving a151/661

troubling situation such ashaving analcoholic parent in
afamily where the problem itself isdenied. Another
might behaving aparent orparents who arethemselves
repressors and sopass onthe example ofperennial
cheerfulness orastiff upper lipintheface ofdisturbing
feelings. Orthetrait may simply beinherited tempera-
ment. While noone can sayasyetjust how such apat-
tern begins inlife, bythetime repressors reach adult-
hood they are cool and collected under duress.
The question remains, ofcourse, astojust how calm
and cool they actually are. Can they really beunaware of
the physical signs ofdistressing emotions, orare they
simply feigning calm? The answer tothat hascome from
clever research byRichard Davidson, aUniversity of
Wisconsin psychologist and anearly collaborator with
Weinberger. Davidson had people with theunflappable
pattern free-associate toalistofwords, most neutral,
but several with hostile orsexual meanings that stir
anxiety inalmost everyone. And, astheir bodily reac-
tions revealed, they had allthe physiological signs of
distress inresponse tothe loaded words, even though
thewords they associated toalmost always showed an
attempt tosanitize theupsetting words bylinking them
toaninnocent one. Ifthefirst word was "hate," there-
sponse might be "love."152/661

Davidson's study took advantage ofthe fact that (in
right-handed people) akey center forprocessing negat-
iveemotion isinthe right half ofthe brain, while the
center forspeaking isintheleft. Once theright hemi-
sphere recognizes that aword isupsetting, ittransmits
that information across the corpus callosum, the great
divide between thebrain's halves, tothespeech center,
and aword isspoken inresponse. Using anintricate ar-
rangement oflenses, Davidson was able todisplay a
word sothat itwas seen inonly half ofthevisual field.
Because oftheneural wiring ofthevisual system, ifthe
display was tothelefthalf ofthevisual field, itwas re-
cognized first bytheright half ofthebrain, with itssens-
itivity todistress. Ifthedisplay was totheright half of
the visual field, the signal went tothe left side ofthe
brain without being assessed for upset.
When the words were presented tothe right hemi-
sphere, there was alaginthe time ittook the unflap-
pables toutter aresponse—but only ifthe word they
were responding towas one oftheupsetting ones. They
had notime laginthe speed oftheir associations to
neutral words. The lagshowed uponly when thewords
were presented totheright hemisphere, not totheleft.
Inshort, their unflappableness seems due toaneural
mechanism that slows orinterferes with thetransfer of
upsetting information. The implication isthat they are153/661

notfaking their lack ofawareness about how upset they
are; their brain iskeeping that information from them.
More precisely, the layer ofmellow feeling that covers
over such disturbing perceptions may well bedue tothe
workings ofthe left prefrontal lobe. Tohis surprise,
when Davidson measured activity levels intheir pre-
frontal lobes, they had adecided predominance ofactiv-
ityontheleft—the center forgood feeling—and less on
the right, the center for negativity.
These people "present themselves inapositive light,
with anupbeat mood," Davidson told me. "They deny
that stress isupsetting them and show apattern ofleft
frontal activation while just sitting atrest that isassoci-
ated with positive feelings. This brain activity may be
thekey totheir positive claims, despite theunderlying
physiological arousal that looks like distress."
Davidson's theory isthat, interms ofbrain activity, itis
energy-demanding work toexperience distressing realit-
iesinapositive light. The increased physiological arous-
almay bedue tothesustained attempt bytheneural cir-
cuitry tomaintain positive feelings ortosuppress orin-
hibit any negative ones.
Inshort, unflappableness isakind ofupbeat denial, a
positive dissociation—and, possibly, aclue toneural
mechanisms atplay inthe more severe dissociative
states that can occur in, say, post-traumatic stress154/661

disorder. When itissimply involved inequanimity, says
Davidson, "itseems tobeasuccessful strategy for
emotional self-regulation" though with anunknown cost
to self-awareness.155/661

6
The Master Aptitude
Just once inmylife have Ibeen paralyzed byfear.
The occasion was acalculus exam during myfresh-
man year incollege forwhich Isomehow had man-
aged not tostudy. Istill remember the room I
marched tothat spring morning with feelings of
doom and foreboding heavy inmyheart. Ihad been
inthat lecture hall formany classes. This morning,
though, Inoticed nothing through thewindows and
didnotseethehall atall.Mygaze shrank tothepatch
offloor directly infront ofmeasImade myway toa
seat near thedoor. AsIopened theblue cover ofmy
exam book, there was thethump inmyears ofheart-
beat, there was thetaste ofanxiety inthepitofmy
stomach.
Ilooked attheexam questions once, quickly. Hope-
less. For anhour Istared atthat page, mymind ra-
cing over theconsequences Iwould suffer. The same
thoughts repeated themselves over and over, atape
loop offear and trembling. Isatmotionless, like an
animal frozen inmid-move bycurare. What strikes
memost about that dreadful moment was how con-
stricted mymind became. Ididnotspend thehour in
adesperate attempt to patch together some

semblance ofanswers tothetest. Ididnotdaydream.
Isimply satfixated onmyterror, waiting fortheor-
deal to finish.1
That narrative ofanordeal byterror ismyown; itisto
this day formethemost convincing evidence ofthedev-
astating impact ofemotional distress onmental clarity. I
now seethat myordeal was most likely atestament to
the power ofthe emotional brain tooverpower, even
paralyze, the thinking brain.
The extent towhich emotional upsets can interfere
with mental life isnonews toteachers. Students who
areanxious, angry, ordepressed don't learn; people who
arecaught inthese states donottake ininformation ef-
ficiently ordeal with itwell. Aswesaw inChapter 5,
powerful negative emotions twist attention toward their
own preoccupations, interfering with theattempt tofo-
cus elsewhere. Indeed, one ofthe signs that feelings
have veered over the line into the pathological isthat
they aresointrusive they overwhelm allother thought,
continually sabotaging attempts topay attention to
whatever other task isathand. For the person going
through anupsetting divorce—or the child whose par-
ents are—the mind does notstay long onthecomparat-
ively trivial routines ofthework orschool day; forthe
clinically depressed, thoughts ofself-pity and despair,
hopelessness and helplessness, override all others.157/661

When emotions overwhelm concentration, what isbe-
ingswamped isthemental capacity cognitive scientists
call"working memory," theability tohold inmind allin-
formation relevant tothe task athand. What occupies
working memory can beasmundane asthedigits that
compose atelephone number orascomplicated asthe
intricate plot lines anovelist istrying toweave together.
Working memory isanexecutive function parexcellence
inmental life, making possible allother intellectual ef-
forts, from speaking asentence totackling aknotty lo-
gical proposition.2The prefrontal cortex executes work-
ing memory—and, remember, iswhere feelings and
emotions meet.3When the limbic circuitry that con-
verges ontheprefrontal cortex isinthethrall ofemo-
tional distress, one cost isintheeffectiveness ofworking
memory: wecan't think straight, asIdiscovered during
that dread calculus exam.
Ontheother hand, consider therole ofpositive motiv-
ation—the marshaling offeelings ofenthusiasm, zeal,
and confidence—in achievement. Studies ofOlympic
athletes, world-class musicians, and chess grand mas-
ters find their unifying trait isthe ability tomotivate
themselves topursue relentless training routines.4And,
with asteady rise inthedegree ofexcellence required to
beaworld-class performer, these rigorous training
routines now increasingly must begin inchildhood. At158/661

the 1992 Olympics, twelve-year-old members ofthe
Chinese diving team had put inasmany total lifetime
practice dives ashad members oftheAmerican team in
their early twenties—the Chinese divers started their rig-
orous training atage four. Likewise, thebest violin vir-
tuosos ofthetwentieth century began studying their in-
strument ataround age five; international chess cham-
pions started onthe game atanaverage age ofseven,
while those who rose only tonational prominence star-
tedatten. Starting earlier offers alifetime edge: thetop
violin students atthebest music academy inBerlin, all
intheir early twenties, had put inten thousand total
hours' lifetime practice, while the second-tier students
averaged around seventy-five hundred hours.
What seems tosetapart those atthevery topofcom-
petitive pursuits from others ofroughly equal ability is
the degree towhich, beginning early inlife, they can
pursue anarduous practice routine foryears and years.
And that doggedness depends onemotional traits—en-
thusiasm and persistence intheface ofsetbacks—above
all else.
The added payoff forlife success from motivation,
apart from other innate abilities, can beseen inthere-
markable performance ofAsian students inAmerican
schools and professions. One thorough review ofthe
evidence suggests that Asian-American children may159/661

have anaverage IQadvantage over whites ofjust two or
three points.5Yetonthebasis oftheprofessions, such as
law and medicine, that many Asian-Americans end up
in,asagroup they behave asthough their IQwere much
higher—the equivalent ofanIQof110 forJapanese-
Americans and of120 for Chinese-Americans.6The
reason seems tobethat from theearliest years ofschool,
Asian children work harder than whites. Sanford Doren-
busch, aStanford sociologist who studied more than ten
thousand high-school students, found that Asian-Amer-
icans spent 40percent more time doing homework than
did other students. "While most American parents are
willing toaccept achild's weak areas and emphasize the
strengths, forAsians, the attitude isthat ifyou're not
doing well, theanswer istostudy later atnight, and if
you still don't dowell, togetupand study earlier inthe
morning. They believe that anyone can dowell inschool
with the right effort." Inshort, astrong cultural work
ethic translates into higher motivation, zeal, and persist-
ence—an emotional edge.
Tothedegree that our emotions getintheway ofor
enhance ourability tothink and plan, topursue training
foradistant goal, tosolve problems and thelike, they
define thelimits ofourcapacity touseourinnate mental
abilities, and sodetermine how wedoinlife. And tothe
degree towhich we are motivated by feelings of160/661

enthusiasm and pleasure inwhat wedo—or even byan
optimal degree ofanxiety—they propel ustoaccom-
plishment. Itisinthis sense that emotional intelligence
isamaster aptitude, acapacity that profoundly affects
allother abilities, either facilitating orinterfering with
them.
IMPULSE CONTROL: THE
MARSHMALLOW TEST
Just imagine you're four years old, and someone makes
thefollowing proposal: Ifyou'll wait until after heruns
anerrand, you can have two marsh-mallows foratreat.
Ifyou can't wait until then, you can have only one—but
you canhave itright now. Itisachallenge sure totrythe
soul ofany four-year-old, amicrocosm ofthe eternal
battle between impulse and restraint, idand ego, desire
and self-control, gratification and delay. Which ofthese
choices achild makes isatelling test; itoffers aquick
reading not just ofcharacter, but ofthetrajectory that
child will probably take through life.
There isperhaps nopsychological skill more funda-
mental than resisting impulse. Itisthe root ofall
emotional self-control, since allemotions, bytheir very
nature, lead toone oranother impulse toact. The root
meaning oftheword emotion, remember, is"tomove."
The capacity toresist that impulse toact, tosquelch the161/661

incipient movement, most likely translates atthelevel of
brain function into inhibition oflimbic signals tothe
motor cortex, though such aninterpretation must re-
main speculative for now.
Atany rate, aremarkable study inwhich themarsh-
mallow challenge was posed tofour-year-olds shows just
how fundamental istheability torestrain theemotions
and sodelay impulse. Begun bypsychologist Walter
Mischel during the1960s atapreschool ontheStanford
University campus and involving mainly children of
Stanford faculty, graduate students, and other employ-
ees, thestudy tracked down thefour-year-olds asthey
were graduating from high school.7
Some four-year-olds were able towait what must
surely have seemed anendless fifteen totwenty minutes
fortheexperimenter toreturn. Tosustain themselves in
their struggle they covered their eyes sothey wouldn't
have tostare attemptation, orrested their heads intheir
arms, talked tothemselves, sang, played games with
their hands and feet, even tried togotosleep. These
plucky preschoolers got the two-marshmallow reward.
But others, more impulsive, grabbed theone marshmal-
low, almost always within seconds oftheexperimenter's
leaving the room on his "errand."
The diagnostic power ofhow this moment ofimpulse
was handled became clear some twelve tofourteen years162/661

later, when these same children were tracked down as
adolescents. The emotional and social difference
between the grab-the-marshmallow preschoolers and
their gratification-delaying peers was dramatic. Those
who had resisted temptation atfour were now, asad-
olescents, more socially competent: personally effective,
self-assertive, and better able tocope with thefrustra-
tions oflife. They were less likely togotopieces, freeze,
orregress under stress, orbecome rattled and disorgan-
ized when pressured; they embraced challenges and
pursued them instead ofgiving upeven inthe face of
difficulties; they were self-reliant and confident, trust-
worthy and dependable; and they took initiative and
plunged into projects. And, more than adecade later,
they were still able todelay gratification inpursuit of
their goals.
The third orsowho grabbed forthe marshmallow,
however, tended tohave fewer ofthese qualities, and
shared instead arelatively more troubled psychological
portrait. Inadolescence they were more likely tobeseen
asshying away from social contacts; tobestubborn and
indecisive; tobeeasily upset byfrustrations; tothink of
themselves as"bad" orunworthy; toregress orbecome
immobilized bystress; tobemistrustful and resentful
about not"getting enough"; tobeprone tojealousy and
envy; tooverreact toirritations with asharp temper, so163/661

provoking arguments and fights. And, after allthose
years, they still were unable to put off gratification.
What shows upinasmall way early inlifeblossoms
into awide range ofsocial and emotional competences
aslifegoes on.The capacity toimpose adelay onim-
pulse isattheroot ofaplethora ofefforts, from staying
onadiet topursuing amedical degree. Some children,
even atfour, had mastered thebasics: they were able to
read thesocial situation asone where delay was benefi-
cial, toprytheir attention from focusing onthetempta-
tion athand, and todistract themselves while maintain-
ing the necessary perseverance toward their goal—the
two marshmallows.
Even more surprising, when thetested children were
evaluated again asthey were finishing high school, those
who had waited patiently atfour were farsuperior as
students tothose who had acted onwhim. According to
their parents' evaluations, they were more academically
competent: better able toput their ideas into words, to
use and respond toreason, toconcentrate, tomake
plans and follow through onthem, and more eager to
learn. Most astonishingly, they had dramatically higher
scores ontheir SAT tests. The third ofchildren who at
four grabbed forthemarshmallow most eagerly had an
average verbal score of524 and quantitative (or"math")
score of528; thethird who waited longest had average164/661

scores of610 and 652, respectively—a 210-point differ-
ence in total score.8
Atage four, how children doonthis test ofdelay of
gratification istwice aspowerful apredictor ofwhat
their SAT scores will beasisIQatagefour; IQbecomes
astronger predictor ofSAT only after children learn to
read.9This suggests that theability todelay gratification
contributes powerfully tointellectual potential quite
apart from IQitself. (Poor impulse control inchildhood
isalso apowerful predictor oflater delinquency, again
more sothan IQ.10)Asweshall seeinPart Five, while
some argue that IQcannot bechanged and sorepresents
anunbendable limitation onachild's life potential,
there isample evidence that emotional skills such asim-
pulse control and accurately reading asocial situation
can be learned.
What Walter Mischel, who did the study, describes
with the rather infelicitous phrase "goal-directed self-
imposed delay ofgratification" isperhaps theessence of
emotional self-regulation: theability todeny impulse in
theservice ofagoal, whether itbebuilding abusiness,
solving analgebraic equation, orpursuing the Stanley
Cup. Hisfinding underscores therole ofemotional intel-
ligence asameta-ability, determining how well orhow
poorly people are able touse their other mental
capacities.165/661

FOUL MOODS, FOULED THINKING
Iworry about myson. Hejust started playing onthe
varsity football team, sohe's bound togetaninjury
sometime. It'ssonerve-wracking towatch him play
that I've stopped going tohisgames. I'msure myson
must bedisappointed that I'mnotwatching him play,
but it's simply too much for me to take.
The speaker isintherapy foranxiety; sherealizes that
herworry isinterfering with leading thekind oflifeshe
would like.11But when itcomes time tomake asimple
decision, such aswhether towatch herson play football,
hermind floods with thoughts ofdisaster. She isnotfree
to choose; her worries overwhelm her reason.
Aswehave seen, worry isthenub ofanxiety's dam-
aging effect onmental performance ofallkind. Worry,
ofcourse, isinone sense auseful response gone
awry—an overly zealous mental preparation forananti-
cipated threat. But such mental rehearsal isdisastrous
cognitive static when itbecomes trapped inastale
routine that captures attention, intruding onallother
attempts to focus elsewhere.
Anxiety undermines theintellect. Inacomplex, intel-
lectually demanding, and high-pressure task such as
that ofairtraffic controllers, forexample, having chron-
ically high anxiety isanalmost sure predictor that a166/661

person will eventually failintraining orinthefield. The
anxious aremore likely tofaileven given superior scores
onintelligence tests, asastudy of1,790 students in
training forairtraffic control posts discovered.12Anxiety
also sabotages academic performance ofallkinds: 126
different studies ofmore than 36,000 people found that
themore prone toworries aperson is,thepoorer their
academic performance, no matter how meas-
ured—grades ontests, grade-point average, orachieve-
ment tests.13
When people who areprone toworry areasked toper-
form acognitive task such assorting ambiguous objects
into one oftwo categories, and narrate what isgoing
through their mind asthey doso,itisthe negative
thoughts—"I won't beable todothis," "I'm just nogood
atthis kind oftest," and thelike—that arefound tomost
directly disrupt their decision-making. Indeed, when a
comparison group ofnonworriers was asked toworry on
purpose forfifteen minutes, their ability todothesame
task deteriorated sharply. And when theworriers were
given afifteen-minute relaxation session—which re-
duced their level ofworrying—before trying the task,
they had no problem with it.14
Test anxiety was first studied scientifically inthe
1960s byRichard Alpert, who confessed tomethat his
interest was piqued because asastudent his nerves167/661

often made him dopoorly ontests, while hiscolleague,
Ralph Haber, found that the pressure before anexam
actually helped him todobetter.15Their research,
among other studies, showed that there aretwo kinds of
anxious students: those whose anxiety undoes their aca-
demic performance, and those who areable todowell
despite thestress—or, perhaps, because ofit.16The irony
oftest anxiety isthat thevery apprehension about doing
well onthetest that, ideally, can motivate students like
Haber tostudy hard inpreparation and sodowell can
sabotage success inothers. For people who are too
anxious, like Alpert, thepretest apprehension interferes
with theclear thinking and memory necessary tostudy
effectively, while during thetest itdisrupts themental
clarity essential for doing well.
The number ofworries that people report while taking
atest directly predicts how poorly they will doonit.17
The mental resources expended on one cognitive
task—the worrying—simply detract from the resources
available forprocessing other information; ifwearepre-
occupied byworries that we're going toflunk the test
we're taking, wehave that much less attention toexpend
onfiguring out the answers. Our worries become self-
fulfilling prophecies, propelling ustoward thevery dis-
aster they predict.168/661

People who areadept atharnessing their emotions, on
theother hand, can use anticipatory anxiety—about an
upcoming speech ortest, say—to motivate themselves to
prepare well forit,thereby doing well. The classical lit-
erature in psychology describes the relationship
between anxiety and performance, including mental
performance, interms ofanupside-down U.Atthepeak
ofthe inverted Uisthe optimal relationship between
anxiety and performance, with amodicum ofnerves
propelling outstanding achievement. But toolittle anxi-
ety—the first side oftheU—brings about apathy ortoo
little motivation totryhard enough todowell, while too
much anxiety—the other side ofthe U—sabotages any
attempt to do well.
Amildly elated state— hypomania, asitistechnically
called—seems optimal forwriters and others increative
callings that demand fluidity and imaginative diversity
ofthought; itissomewhere toward thepeak ofthat in-
verted U.But letthat euphoria getoutofcontrol tobe-
come outright mania, asinthemood swings ofmanic-
depressives, and theagitation undermines theability to
think cohesively enough towrite well, even though ideas
flow freely—indeed, much toofreely topursue any one
of them far enough to produce a finished product.
Good moods, while they last, enhance the ability to
think flexibly and with more complexity, thus making it169/661

easier tofind solutions toproblems, whether intellectual
orinterpersonal. This suggests that one way tohelp
someone think through aproblem istotellthem ajoke.
Laughing, like elation, seems tohelp people think more
broadly and associate more freely, noticing relationships
that might have eluded them otherwise—a mental skill
important notjust increativity, butinrecognizing com-
plex relationships and foreseeing theconsequences ofa
given decision.
The intellectual benefits ofagood laugh are most
striking when itcomes tosolving aproblem that de-
mands acreative solution. One study found that people
who had just watched a video of television bloopers were
better atsolving apuzzle long used bypsychologists to
test creative thinking.18Inthe test people are given a
candle, matches, and abox oftacks and asked toattach
the candle toacorkboard wall soitwill burn without
dripping wax onthefloor. Most people given this prob-
lem fallinto "functional fixedness," thinking about using
the objects inthe most conventional ways. But those
who had just watched thefunny film, compared tooth-
erswho had watched afilm onmath orwho exercised,
were more likely tosee analternative use forthe box
holding thetacks, and socome upwith thecreative solu-
tion: tack the box tothe wall and use itasacandle
holder.170/661

Even mild mood changes can sway thinking. Inmak-
ingplans ordecisions people ingood moods have aper-
ceptual bias that leads them tobemore expansive and
positive intheir thinking. This ispartly because memory
isstate-specific, sothat while inagood mood were-
member more positive events; aswethink over thepros
and cons ofacourse ofaction while feeling pleasant,
memory biases our weighing ofevidence inapositive
direction, making usmore likely todo something
slightly adventurous or risky, for example.
Bythe same token, being inafoul mood biases
memory inanegative direction, making usmore likely
tocontract into afearful, overly cautious decision. Emo-
tions outofcontrol impede theintellect. But, aswesaw
inChapter 5,wecan bring out-of-control emotions back
into line; this emotional competence isthe master
aptitude, facilitating allother kinds ofintelligence. Con-
sider some cases inpoint: thebenefits ofhope and op-
timism, and those soaring moments when people outdo
themselves.
PANDORA'S BOX AND POLLYANNA: THE POWER OF
POSITIVE THINKING
College students were posed thefollowing hypothetical
situation:171/661

Although you setyour goal ofgetting aB,when your
first exam score, worth 30% ofyour final grade isre-
turned, you have received aD.Itisnow one week
after you have learned about the Dgrade. What do
you do?19
Hope made allthe difference. The response bystu-
dents with high levels ofhope was towork harder and
think ofarange ofthings they might trythat could bol-
ster their final grade. Students with moderate levels of
hope thought ofseveral ways they might uptheir grade,
buthad farless determination topursue them. And, un-
derstandably, students with low levels ofhope gave up
on both counts, demoralized.
The question isnotjust theoretical, however. When C.
R.Snyder, the University ofKansas psychologist who
did this study, compared the actual academic achieve-
ment offreshman students high and low onhope, he
discovered that hope was abetter predictor oftheir first-
semester grades than were their scores onthe SAT, a
test supposedly able topredict how students will fare in
college (and highly correlated with IQ). Again, given
roughly thesame range ofintellectual abilities, emotion-
al aptitudes make the critical difference.
Snyder's explanation: "Students with high hope set
themselves higher goals and know how towork hard to
attain them. When you compare students ofequivalent172/661

intellectual aptitude ontheir academic achievements,
what sets them apart is hope."20
Asthe familiar legend has it,Pandora, aprincess of
ancient Greece, was given agift, amysterious box, by
gods jealous ofherbeauty. She was told shemust never
open the gift. But one day, overcome bycuriosity and
temptation, Pandora lifted the lidtopeek in,letting
loose inthe world the grand afflictions—disease, mal-
aise, madness. But acompassionate god letherclose the
box just intime tocapture theone antidote that makes
life's misery bearable: hope.
Hope, modern researchers are finding, does more
than offer abitofsolace amid affliction; itplays asur-
prisingly potent role inlife, offering anadvantage in
realms asdiverse asschool achievement and bearing up
inonerous jobs. Hope, inatechnical sense, ismore than
the sunny view that everything will turn out allright.
Snyder defines itwith more specificity as"believing you
have both thewill and theway toaccomplish your goals,
whatever they may be."
People tend todiffer inthe general degree towhich
they have hope inthis sense. Some typically think of
themselves asable togetout ofajam orfind ways to
solve problems, while others simply donot see them-
selves ashaving theenergy, ability, ormeans toaccom-
plish their goals. People with high levels ofhope, Snyder173/661

finds, share certain traits, among them being able to
motivate themselves, feeling resourceful enough tofind
ways toaccomplish their objectives, reassuring them-
selves when inatight spot that things will getbetter, be-
ingflexible enough tofind different ways togettotheir
goals ortoswitch goals ifone becomes impossible, and
having thesense tobreak down aformidable task into
smaller, manageable pieces.
From theperspective ofemotional intelligence, having
hope means that one will not give intooverwhelming
anxiety, adefeatist attitude, ordepression intheface of
difficult challenges orsetbacks. Indeed, people who are
hopeful evidence less depression than others asthey
maneuver through lifeinpursuit oftheir goals, areless
anxious in general, and have fewer emotional distresses.
OPTIMISM: THE GREAT MOTIVATOR
Americans who follow swimming had high hopes for
Matt Biondi, amember ofthe U.S. Olympic Team in
1988. Some sportswriters were touting Biondi aslikely
tomatch Mark Spitz's 1972 feat oftaking seven gold
medals. But Biondi finished aheartbreaking third inhis
first event, the 200-meter freestyle. Inhisnext event,
the100-meter butterfly, Biondi was inched out forthe
gold byanother swimmer who made agreater effort in
the last meter.174/661

Sportscasters speculated that the defeats would dis-
pirit Biondi inhissuccessive events. But Biondi reboun-
ded from defeat and took agold medal inhisnext five
events. One viewer who was not surprised byBiondi's
comeback was Martin Seligman, apsychologist atthe
University ofPennsylvania, who had tested Biondi for
optimism earlier that year. Inanexperiment done with
Seligman, theswimming coach told Biondi during aspe-
cial event meant toshowcase Biondi's best performance
that hehad aworse time than was actually the case.
Despite thedownbeat feedback, when Biondi was asked
torest and tryagain, hisperformance—actually already
very good—was even better. But when other team mem-
bers who were given afalse bad time—and whose test
scores showed they were pessimistic—tried again, they
did even worse the second time.21
Optimism, like hope, means having astrong expecta-
tion that, ingeneral, things will turn outallright inlife,
despite setbacks and frustrations. From thestandpoint
ofemotional intelligence, optimism isanattitude that
buffers people against falling into apathy, hopelessness,
ordepression inthe face oftough going. And, aswith
hope, itsnear cousin, optimism pays dividends inlife
(providing, ofcourse, itisarealistic optimism; atoo-na-
ive optimism can be disastrous).22175/661

Seligman defines optimism interms ofhow people ex-
plain tothemselves their successes and failures. People
who areoptimistic seeafailure asdue tosomething that
can bechanged sothat they can succeed next time
around, while pessimists take the blame for failure,
ascribing ittosome lasting characteristic they arehelp-
less tochange. These differing explanations have pro-
found implications forhow people respond tolife. For
example, inreaction toadisappointment such asbeing
turned down forajob, optimists tend torespond act-
ively and hopefully, byformulating aplan ofaction, say,
orseeking out help and advice; they seethesetback as
something that can beremedied. Pessimists, bycon-
trast, react tosuch setbacks byassuming there isnoth-
ingthey can dotomake things gobetter thenext time,
and sodonothing about theproblem; they seetheset-
back asdue tosome personal deficit that will always
plague them.
Aswith hope, optimism predicts academic success. In
astudy offive hundred members oftheincoming fresh-
man class of1984 attheUniversity ofPennsylvania, the
students' scores onatest ofoptimism were abetter pre-
dictor oftheir actual grades freshman year than were
their SAT scores ortheir high-school grades. Said Selig-
man, who studied them, "College entrance exams meas-
ure talent, while explanatory style tells you who gives176/661

up. Itisthe combination ofreasonable talent and the
ability tokeep going intheface ofdefeat that leads to
success. What's missing intests ofability ismotivation.
What you need toknow about someone iswhether they
will keep going when things getfrustrating. Myhunch is
that foragiven level ofintelligence, your actual achieve-
ment isafunction notjust oftalent, butalso ofthecapa-
city to stand defeat."23
One ofthemost telling demonstrations ofthepower
ofoptimism tomotivate people isastudy Seligman did
ofinsurance salesmen with theMetLife company. Being
able totake arejection with grace isessential insales of
allkinds, especially with aproduct like insurance, where
theratio ofnoes toyeses can besodiscouragingly high.
For this reason, about three quarters ofinsurance sales-
men quit intheir first three years. Seligman found that
new salesmen who were bynature optimists sold 37per-
cent more insurance intheir first two years onthejob
than didpessimists. And during thefirst year thepess-
imists quit at twice the rate of the optimists.
What's more, Seligman persuaded MetLife tohire a
special group ofapplicants who scored high onatest for
optimism but failed the normal screening tests (which
compared arange oftheir attitudes toastandard profile
based on answers from agents who have been177/661

successful). This special group outsold thepessimists by
21percent intheir first year, and 57percent inthe
second.
Just why optimism makes such adifference insales
success speaks tothesense inwhich itisanemotionally
intelligent attitude. Each noasalesperson gets isasmall
defeat. The emotional reaction tothat defeat iscrucial to
theability tomarshal enough motivation tocontinue. As
the noes mount up, morale can deteriorate, making it
harder and harder topick upthephone forthenext call.
Such rejection isespecially hard totake forapessimist,
who interprets itasmeaning, "I'm afailure atthis; I'll
never make asale"—an interpretation that issure to
trigger apathy and defeatism, ifnot depression. Optim-
ists, ontheother hand, tellthemselves, "I'm using the
wrong approach," or"That last person was just inabad
mood." Byseeing not themselves but something inthe
situation asthereason fortheir failure, they can change
their approach inthe next call. While the pessimist's
mental set leads to despair, the optimist's spawns hope.
One source ofapositive ornegative outlook may well
beinborn temperament; some people bynature tend
one way ortheother. But asweshall also seeinChapter
14,temperament can betempered byexperience. Op-
timism and hope—like helplessness and despair—can be
learned. Underlying both isanoutlook psychologists call178/661

self-efficacy, the belief that one has mastery over the
events ofone's life and can meet challenges asthey
come up. Developing acompetency ofany kind
strengthens thesense ofself-efficacy, making aperson
more willing totake risks and seek outmore demanding
challenges. And surmounting those challenges inturn
increases thesense ofself-efficacy. This attitude makes
people more likely tomake the best use ofwhatever
skills they may have—or todowhat ittakes todevelop
them.
Albert Bandura, aStanford psychologist who hasdone
much ofthe research onself-efficacy, sums itupwell:
"People's beliefs about their abilities have aprofound ef-
fect onthose abilities. Ability isnot afixed property;
there isahuge variability inhow you perform. People
who have asense ofself-efficacy bounce back from fail-
ures; they approach things interms ofhow tohandle
them rather than worrying about what can go wrong."24
FLOW: THE NEUROBIOLOGY OF
EXCELLENCE?
Acomposer describes those moments when hiswork is
at its best:
You yourself areinanecstatic state tosuch apoint
that you feel asthough you almost don't exist. I've179/661

experienced this time and again. My hand seems
devoid ofmyself, and Ihave nothing todowith what
ishappening. Ijust sitthere watching inastate of
awe and wonderment. And it just flows out by itself.25
His description isremarkably similar tothose ofhun-
dreds ofdiverse men and women—rock climbers, chess
champions, surgeons, basketball players, engineers,
managers, even filing clerks—when they tell ofatime
they outdid themselves insome favored activity. The
state they describe iscalled "flow" byMihaly Csikszent-
mihalyi, theUniversity ofChicago psychologist who has
collected such accounts ofpeak performance during two
decades ofresearch.26Athletes know this state ofgrace
as"the zone," where excellence becomes effortless,
crowd and competitors disappearing into ablissful,
steady absorption inthemoment. Diane Roffe-Steinrot-
ter, who captured agold medal inskiing atthe 1994
Winter Olympics, said after she finished herturn atski
racing that she remembered nothing about itbut being
immersed in relaxation: "I felt like a waterfall."27
Being able toenter flow isemotional intelligence atits
best; flow represents perhaps theultimate inharnessing
theemotions intheservice ofperformance and learning.
Inflow the emotions are not just contained and
channeled, butpositive, energized, and aligned with the
task athand. Tobecaught intheennui ofdepression or180/661

the agitation ofanxiety istobebarred from flow. Yet
flow(or amilder microflow) isanexperience almost
everyone enters from time totime, particularly when
performing attheir peak orstretching beyond their
former limits. Itisperhaps best captured byecstatic
lovemaking, themerging oftwo into afluidly harmoni-
ous one.
That experience isaglorious one: thehallmark offlow
isafeeling ofspontaneous joy, even rapture. Because
flow feels sogood, itisintrinsically rewarding. Itisa
state inwhich people become utterly absorbed inwhat
they aredoing, paying undivided attention tothetask,
their awareness merged with their actions. Indeed, itin-
terrupts flow toreflect too much onwhat ishappen-
ing—the very thought "I'm doing this wonderfully" can
break thefeeling offlow. Attention becomes sofocused
that people areaware only ofthenarrow range ofper-
ception related tothe immediate task, losing track of
time and space. Asurgeon, forexample, recalled achal-
lenging operation during which hewas inflow; when he
completed the surgery henoticed some rubble onthe
floor ofthe operating room and asked what had
happened. Hewas amazed tohear that while hewas so
intent onthesurgery part oftheceiling had caved in—he
hadn't noticed at all.181/661

Flow isastate ofself-forgetfulness, theopposite ofru-
mination and worry: instead ofbeing lost innervous
preoccupation, people inflow are soabsorbed inthe
task athand that they lose allself-consciousness, drop-
ping thesmall preoccupations—health, bills, even doing
well—of daily life. Inthis sense moments offlow are
egoless. Paradoxically, people inflow exhibit amasterly
control ofwhat they aredoing, their responses perfectly
attuned tothe changing demands ofthe task. And al-
though people perform attheir peak while inflow, they
areunconcerned with how they aredoing, with thoughts
ofsuccess orfailure—the sheer pleasure oftheactitself
is what motivates them.
There areseveral ways toenter flow. One istointen-
tionally focus asharp attention onthe task athand; a
highly concentrated state isthe essence offlow. There
seems tobeafeedback loop atthegateway tothis zone:
itcan require considerable effort toget calm and fo-
cused enough tobegin the task—this first step takes
some discipline. But once focus starts tolock in,ittakes
onaforce ofitsown, both offering relief from emotional
turbulence and making the task effortless.
Entry tothis zone can also occur when people find a
task they areskilled at,and engage initatalevel that
slightly taxes their ability. AsCsikszentmihalyi told me,
"People seem toconcentrate best when thedemands on182/661

them areabitgreater than usual, and they areable to
give more than usual. Ifthere istoo little demand on
them, people arebored. Ifthere istoomuch forthem to
handle, they getanxious. Flow occurs inthat delicate
zone between boredom and anxiety."28
The spontaneous pleasure, grace, and effectiveness
that characterize flow areincompatible with emotional
hijackings, inwhich limbic surges capture therest ofthe
brain. The quality ofattention inflow isrelaxed yet
highly focused. Itisaconcentration very different from
straining topay attention when wearetired orbored, or
when our focus isunder siege from intrusive feelings
such as anxiety or anger.
Flow isastate devoid ofemotional static, save fora
compelling, highly motivating feeling ofmild ecstasy.
That ecstasy seems tobeaby-product oftheattentional
focus that isaprerequisite offlow. Indeed, the classic
literature ofcontemplative traditions describes states of
absorption that areexperienced aspure bliss: flow in-
duced by nothing more than intense concentration.
Watching someone inflow gives theimpression that
thedifficult iseasy; peak performance appears natural
and ordinary. This impression parallels what isgoing on
within the brain, where asimilar paradox isrepeated:
themost challenging tasks aredone with aminimum ex-
penditure ofmental energy. Inflow the brain isina183/661

"cool" state, itsarousal and inhibition ofneural circuitry
attuned tothedemand ofthemoment. When people are
engaged inactivities that effortlessly capture and hold
their attention, their brain "quiets down" inthe sense
that there isalessening ofcortical arousal.29That dis-
covery isremarkable, given that flow allows people to
tackle the most challenging tasks inagiven domain,
whether playing against achess master orsolving a
complex mathematical problem. The expectation would
bethat such challenging tasks would require more cor-
tical activity, notless. But akey toflow isthat itoccurs
only within reach ofthesummit ofability, where skills
are well-rehearsed and neural circuits are most efficient.
A strained concentration—a focus fueled by
worry—produces increased cortical activation. But the
zone offlow and optimal performance seems tobean
oasis ofcortical efficiency, with abare minimum of
mental energy expended. That makes sense, perhaps, in
terms oftheskilled practice that allows people togetin-
toflow: having mastered themoves ofatask, whether a
physical one such asrock climbing oramental one such
ascomputer programming, means that thebrain can be
more efficient inperforming them. Well-practiced
moves require much less brain effort than doones just
being learned, orthose that arestill toohard. Likewise,
when the brain isworking less efficiently because of184/661

fatigue ornervousness, ashappens attheend ofalong,
stressful day, there isablurring oftheprecision ofcor-
tical effort, with toomany superfluous areas being activ-
ated—a neural state experienced asbeing highly distrac-
ted.30The same happens inboredom. But when the
brain isoperating atpeak efficiency, asinflow, there isa
precise relation between the active areas and the de-
mands ofthetask. Inthis state even hard work canseem
refreshing or replenishing rather than draining.
LEARNING AND FLOW: A NEW
MODEL FOR EDUCATION
Because flow emerges inthe zone inwhich anactivity
challenges people tothe fullest oftheir capacities, as
their skills increase ittakes aheightened challenge to
getinto flow. Ifatask istoosimple, itisboring; iftoo
challenging, theresult isanxiety rather than flow. Itcan
beargued that mastery inacraft orskill isspurred onby
theexperience offlow—that themotivation togetbetter
and better atsomething, beitplaying the violin, dan-
cing, orgene-splicing, isatleast inpart tostay inflow
while doing it.Indeed, inastudy oftwo hundred artists
eighteen years after they left artschool, Csikszentmi-
halyi found that itwas those who intheir student days
had savored thesheer joyofpainting itself who had be-
come serious painters. Those who had been motivated185/661

inartschool bydreams offame and wealth forthemost
part drifted away from art after graduating.
Csikszentmihalyi concludes: "Painters must want to
paint above allelse. Iftheartist infront ofthecanvas
begins towonder how much hewill sell itfor, orwhat
thecritics will think ofit,hewon't beable topursue ori-
ginal avenues. Creative achievements depend onsingle-
minded immersion."31
Just asflow isaprerequisite formastery inacraft,
profession, orart,sotoowith learning. Students who get
into flow asthey study dobetter, quite apart from their
potential asmeasured byachievement tests. Students in
aspecial Chicago high school forthe sciences—all of
whom had scored inthetop5percent onatest ofmath
proficiency—were rated bytheir math teachers ashigh
orlow achievers. Then the way these students spent
their time was monitored, each student carrying abeep-
erthat signaled them atrandom times during theday to
write down what they were doing and what their mood
was. Not surprisingly, the low achievers spent only
about fifteen hours aweek studying athome, much less
than thetwenty-seven hours aweek ofhomework done
bytheir high-achieving peers. The low achievers spent
most ofthehours during which they were not studying
in socializing, hanging out with friends and family.186/661

When their moods were analyzed, atelling finding
emerged. Both thehigh and low achievers spent agreat
deal oftime during theweek being bored byactivities,
such asTVwatching, that posed nochallenge totheir
abilities. Such, after all,isthelotofteenagers. But the
key difference was intheir experience ofstudying. For
thehigh achievers, studying gave them thepleasing, ab-
sorbing challenge offlow 40percent ofthehours they
spent atit.But forthelow achievers, studying produced
flow only 16percent ofthetime; more often than not, it
yielded anxiety, with the demands outreaching their
abilities. The low achievers found pleasure and flow in
socializing, not instudying. Inshort, students who
achieve uptothelevel oftheir academic potential and
beyond aremore often drawn tostudy because itputs
them inflow. Sadly, thelow achievers, byfailing tohone
theskills that would getthem inflow, both forfeit the
enjoyment ofstudy and run therisk oflimiting thelevel
ofintellectual tasks that will beenjoyable tothem inthe
future.32
Howard Gardner, the Harvard psychologist who de-
veloped the theory ofmultiple intelligences, sees flow,
and the positive states that typify it,aspart ofthe
healthiest way toteach children, motivating them from
inside rather than bythreat orpromise ofreward. "We
should use kids' positive states todraw them into187/661

learning inthedomains where they candevelop compet-
encies," Gardner proposed tome. "Flow isaninternal
state that signifies akidisengaged inatask that's right.
You have tofind something you like and stick toit.It's
when kids getbored inschool that they fight and actup,
and when they're overwhelmed byachallenge that they
get anxious about their schoolwork. But you learn at
your best when you have something you care about and
you can get pleasure from being engaged in."
The strategy used inmany oftheschools that areput-
ting Gardner's model ofmultiple intelligences into prac-
tice revolves around identifying achild's profile ofnat-
ural competencies and playing tothestrengths aswell
astrying toshore uptheweaknesses. Achild who isnat-
urally talented inmusic ormovement, forexample, will
enter flow more easily inthat domain than inthose
where sheisless able. Knowing achild's profile can help
ateacher fine-tune the way atopic ispresented toa
child and offer lessons atthe level—from remedial to
highly advanced—that ismost likely toprovide anop-
timal challenge. Doing this makes learning more pleas-
urable, neither fearsome nor abore. "The hope isthat
when kids gain flow from learning, they will beem-
boldened totake onchallenges innew areas," says Gard-
ner, adding that experience suggests this is the case.188/661

More generally, theflow model suggests that achiev-
ing mastery ofany skill orbody ofknowledge should
ideally happen naturally, asthe child isdrawn tothe
areas that spontaneously engage her—that, inessence,
she loves. That initial passion can betheseed forhigh
levels ofattainment, asthechild comes torealize that
pursuing the field—whether itbedance, math, ormu-
sic—is asource ofthe joyofflow. And since ittakes
pushing thelimits ofone's ability tosustain flow, that
becomes aprime motivator forgetting better and better;
itmakes thechild happy. This, ofcourse, isamore pos-
itive model oflearning and education than most ofus
encountered inschool. Who does not recall school at
least inpart asendless dreary hours ofboredom punctu-
ated by moments ofhigh anxiety? Pursuing flow
through learning isamore humane, natural, and very
likely more effective way tomarshal emotions intheser-
vice of education.
That speaks tothemore general sense inwhich chan-
neling emotions toward aproductive end isamaster
aptitude. Whether itbeincontrolling impulse and put-
ting offgratification, regulating ourmoods sothey facil-
itate rather than impede thinking, motivating ourselves
topersist and try, tryagain inthe face ofsetbacks, or
finding ways toenter flow and soperform more189/661

effectively—all bespeak the power ofemotion toguide
effective effort.190/661

7
The Roots of Empathy
Back toGary, thebrilliant butalexithymic surgeon who
sodistressed hisfiancée, Ellen, bybeing oblivious not
only tohisown feelings but tohers aswell. Like most
alexithymics, helacked empathy aswell asinsight. IfEl-
lenspoke offeeling down, Gary failed tosympathize; if
she spoke oflove, hechanged thesubject. Gary would
make "helpful" critiques ofthings Ellen did, not realiz-
ing these criticisms made her feel attacked, not helped.
Empathy builds onself-awareness; themore open we
aretoour own emotions, themore skilled wewill bein
reading feelings.1Alexithymics like Gary, who have no
idea what they feel themselves, are atacomplete loss
when itcomes toknowing what anyone else around
them isfeeling. They are emotionally tone-deaf. The
emotional notes and chords that weave through people's
words and actions—the telling tone ofvoice orshift in
posture, theeloquent silence ortelltale tremble—go by
unnoted.
Confused about their own feelings, alexithymics are
equally bewildered when other people express their feel-
ings tothem. This failure toregister another's feelings is
amajor deficit inemotional intelligence, and atragic
failing inwhat itmeans tobehuman. For allrapport,

the root ofcaring, stems from emotional attunement,
from the capacity for empathy.
That capacity—the ability toknow how another
feels—comes into play inavast array oflifearenas, from
sales and management toromance and parenting, to
compassion and political action. The absence ofem-
pathy isalso telling. Itslack isseen incriminal psycho-
paths, rapists, and child molesters.
People's emotions arerarely putinto words; farmore
often they areexpressed through other cues. The key to
intuiting another's feelings isintheability toread non-
verbal channels: tone ofvoice, gesture, facial expression,
and the like. Perhaps the largest body ofresearch on
people's ability toread such nonverbal messages isby
Robert Rosenthal, aHarvard psychologist, and hisstu-
dents. Rosenthal devised atest ofempathy, the PONS
(Profile ofNonverbal Sensitivity), aseries ofvideotapes
ofayoung woman expressing feelings ranging from
loathing tomotherly love.2The scenes span the spec-
trum from ajealous rage toasking forgiveness, from a
show ofgratitude toaseduction. The video hasbeen ed-
ited sothat ineach portrayal one ormore channels of
nonverbal communication are systematically blanked
out; inaddition tohaving the words muffled, forex-
ample, insome scenes allother cues but thefacial ex-
pression are blocked. In others, only the body192/661

movements are shown, and soon, through the main
nonverbal channels ofcommunication, sothat viewers
have todetect emotion from one oranother specific
nonverbal cue.
Intests with over seven thousand people intheUnited
States and eighteen other countries, thebenefits ofbe-
ingable toread feelings from nonverbal cues included
being better adjusted emotionally, more popular, more
outgoing, and—perhaps not surprisingly—more sensit-
ive. Ingeneral, women arebetter than men atthis kind
ofempathy. And people whose performance improved
over thecourse oftheforty-five-minute test—a sign that
they have atalent forpicking upempathy skills—also
had better relationships with theopposite sex. Empathy,
itshould benosurprise tolearn, helps with romantic
life.
Inkeeping with findings about other elements ofemo-
tional intelligence, there was only anincidental relation-
ship between scores onthis measure ofempathic acuity
and SAT orIQscores orschool achievement tests.
Empathy's independence from academic intelligence
hasbeen found toointesting with aversion ofthePONS
designed forchildren. Intests with 1,011 children, those
who showed anaptitude for reading feelings non-
verbally were among themost popular intheir schools,
the most emotionally stable.3They also did better in193/661

school, even though, onaverage, their IQs were not
higher than those ofchildren who were less skilled at
reading nonverbal messages—suggesting that mastering
this empathic ability smooths theway forclassroom ef-
fectiveness (or simply makes teachers like them more).
Just asthe mode ofthe rational mind iswords, the
mode ofthe emotions isnonverbal. Indeed, when a
person's words disagree with what isconveyed viahis
tone ofvoice, gesture, orother nonverbal channel, the
emotional truth isinhow hesays something rather than
inwhat hesays. One rule ofthumb used incommunica-
tions research isthat 90percent ormore ofanemotion-
almessage isnonverbal. And such messages—anxiety in
someone's tone ofvoice, irritation inthequickness ofa
gesture—are almost always taken inunconsciously,
without paying specific attention tothe nature ofthe
message, butsimply tacitly receiving itand responding.
The skills that allow ustodothis well orpoorly arealso,
for the most part, learned tacitly.
HOW EMPATHY UNFOLDS
The moment Hope, just nine months old, saw another
baby fall, tears welled upinher own eyes and she
crawled offtobecomforted byhermother, asthough it
were shewho had been hurt. And fifteen-month-old Mi-
chael went toget his own teddy bear forhis crying194/661

friend Paul; when Paul kept crying, Michael retrieved
Paul's security blanket forhim. Both these small acts of
sympathy and caring were observed bymothers trained
torecord such incidents ofempathy inaction.4The res-
ults ofthestudy suggest that theroots ofempathy can
betraced toinfancy. Virtually from the day they are
born infants are upset when they hear another infant
crying—a response some seeastheearliest precursor of
empathy.5
Developmental psychologists have found that infants
feel sympathetic distress even before they fully realize
that they exist apart from other people. Even afew
months after birth, infants react toadisturbance in
those around them asthough itwere their own, crying
when they seeanother child's tears. Byone year orso,
they start torealize the misery isnot their own but
someone else's, though they still seem confused over
what todoabout it.Inresearch byMartin L.Hoffman at
New York University, for example, aone-year-old
brought hisown mother over tocomfort acrying friend,
ignoring thefriend's mother, who was also intheroom.
This confusion isseen too when one-year-olds imitate
thedistress ofsomeone else, possibly tobetter compre-
hend what they arefeeling; forexample, ifanother baby
hurts herfingers, aone-year-old might putherown fin-
gers inhermouth toseeifshehurts, too. Onseeing his195/661

mother cry, one baby wiped hisown eyes, though they
had no tears.
Such motor mimicry, asitiscalled, isthe original
technical sense oftheword empathy asitwas first used
inthe1920s byE.B.Titchener, anAmerican psycholo-
gist. This sense isslightly different from itsoriginal in-
troduction into English from the Greek empatheia,
"feeling into," aterm used initially bytheoreticians of
aesthetics forthe ability toperceive the subjective ex-
perience ofanother person. Titchener's theory was that
empathy stemmed from asort ofphysical imitation of
thedistress ofanother, which then evokes thesame feel-
ings inoneself. Hesought aword that would bedistinct
from sympathy, which can befeltforthegeneral plight
ofanother with nosharing whatever ofwhat that other
person is feeling.
Motor mimicry fades from toddlers' repertoire at
around two and ahalf years, atwhich point they realize
that someone else's pain isdifferent from their own, and
arebetter able tocomfort them. Atypical incident, from
a mother's diary:
Aneighbor's baby cries …and Jenny approaches
and tries togive him some cookies. She follows him
around and begins towhimper toherself. She then
tries tostroke hishair, but hepulls away. …He
calms down, but Jenny still looks worried. She196/661

continues tobring him toys and topathishead and
shoulders.6
Atthis point intheir development toddlers begin to
diverge from one another intheir overall sensitivity to
other people's emotional upsets, with some, like Jenny,
keenly aware and others tuning out. Aseries ofstudies
byMarian Radke-Yarrow and Carolyn Zahn-Waxler at
the National Institute ofMental Health showed that a
large part ofthis difference inempathic concern had to
dowith how parents disciplined their children. Chil-
dren, they found, were more empathic when thediscip-
line included calling strong attention tothe distress
their misbehavior caused someone else: "Look how sad
you've made her feel" instead of"That was naughty."
They found too that children's empathy isalso shaped
byseeing how others react when someone else isdis-
tressed; byimitating what they see, children develop a
repertoire ofempathic response, especially inhelping
other people who are distressed.
THE WELL-ATTUNED CHILD
Sarah was twenty-five when shegave birth totwin boys,
Mark and Fred. Mark, she felt, was more like herself;
Fred was more like hisfather. That perception may have
been theseed ofatelling but subtle difference inhow197/661

she treated each boy. When the boys were just three
months old, Sarah would often trytocatch Fred's gaze,
and when hewould avert hisface, shewould trytocatch
his eye again; Fred would respond by turning away more
emphatically. Once she would look away, Fred would
look back ather, and thecycle ofpursuit and aversion
would begin again—often leaving Fred intears. But with
Mark, Sarah virtually never tried toimpose eyecontact
asshe didwith Fred. Instead Mark could break offeye
contact whenever he wanted, and she would not pursue.
Asmall act, buttelling. Ayear later, Fred was notice-
ably more fearful and dependent than Mark; one way he
showed hisfearfulness was bybreaking offeye contact
with other people, ashehad done with hismother at
three months, turning hisface down and away. Mark, on
theother hand, looked people straight intheeye; when
hewanted tobreak offcontact, he'd turn his head
slightly upward and to the side, with a winning smile.
The twins and their mother were observed so
minutely when they took part inresearch byDaniel
Stern, apsychiatrist then atCornell University School of
Medicine.7Stern isfascinated bythesmall, repeated ex-
changes that take place between parent and child; hebe-
lieves that themost basic lessons ofemotional lifeare
laid down inthese intimate moments. Ofallsuch mo-
ments, themost critical arethose that letthechild know198/661

her emotions aremet with empathy, accepted, and re-
ciprocated, inaprocess Stern calls attunement. The
twins' mother was attuned with Mark, but out ofemo-
tional synch with Fred. Stern contends that thecount-
lessly repeated moments ofattunement ormisattune-
ment between parent and child shape theemotional ex-
pectations adults bring totheir close relationships—per-
haps far more than the more dramatic events of
childhood.
Attunement occurs tacitly, aspart oftherhythm ofre-
lationship. Stern has studied itwith microscopic preci-
sion through videotaping hours ofmothers with their in-
fants. He finds that through attunement mothers let
their infants know they have asense ofwhat theinfant
isfeeling. Ababy squeals with delight, forexample, and
the mother affirms that delight bygiving the baby a
gentle shake, cooing, ormatching thepitch ofhervoice
tothebaby's squeal. Orababy shakes hisrattle, and she
gives him aquick shimmy inresponse. Insuch aninter-
action theaffirming message isinthemother more or
less matching thebaby's level ofexcitement. Such small
attunements give aninfant thereassuring feeling ofbe-
ing emotionally connected, amessage that Stern finds
mothers send about once aminute when they interact
with their babies.199/661

Attunement isvery different from simple imitation.
"Ifyou just imitate ababy," Stern told me, "that only
shows you know what hedid, nothow hefelt. Tolethim
know you sense how hefeels, you have toplay back his
inner feelings inanother way. Then thebaby knows he
is understood."
Making love isperhaps theclosest approximation in
adult life tothis intimate attunement between infant
and mother. Lovemaking, Stern writes, "involves theex-
perience ofsensing theother's subjective state: shared
desire, aligned intentions, and mutual states ofsimul-
taneously shifting arousal," with lovers responding to
each other inasynchrony that gives thetacit sense of
deep rapport.8Lovemaking is,atitsbest, anactofmu-
tual empathy; atitsworst itlacks any such emotional
mutuality.
THE COSTS OF MISATTUNEMENT
Stern holds that from repeated attunements aninfant
begins todevelop asense that other people can and will
share inher feelings. This sense seems toemerge at
around eight months, when infants begin torealize they
areseparate from others, and continues tobeshaped by
intimate relationships throughout life. When parents
aremisattuned toachild itisdeeply upsetting. Inone
experiment, Stern had mothers deliberately over-or200/661

underrespond totheir infants, rather than matching
them inanattuned way; theinfants responded with im-
mediate dismay and distress.
Prolonged absence ofattunement between parent and
child takes atremendous emotional toll onthe child.
When aparent consistently fails toshow any empathy
with aparticular range ofemotion inthe child—joys,
tears, needing tocuddle—the child begins toavoid ex-
pressing, and perhaps even feeling, those same emo-
tions. Inthis way, presumably, entire ranges ofemotion
can begin tobeobliterated from the repertoire forin-
timate relations, especially ifthrough childhood those
feelings continue to be covertly or overtly discouraged.
Bythesame token, children can come tofavor anun-
fortunate range ofemotion, depending onwhich moods
are reciprocated. Even infants "catch" moods: Three-
month-old babies ofdepressed mothers, forexample,
mirrored their mothers' moods while playing with them,
displaying more feelings ofanger and sadness, and
much less spontaneous curiosity and interest, compared
to infants whose mothers were not depressed.9
One mother inStern's study consistently underre-
acted toherbaby's level ofactivity; eventually herbaby
learned tobepassive. "An infant treated that way learns,
when Igetexcited Ican't getmymother tobeequally
excited, soImay aswell nottryatall," Stern contends.201/661

But there ishope in"reparative" relationships: "Rela-
tionships throughout life—with friends orrelatives, for
example, orinpsychotherapy—continually reshape your
working model ofrelationships. Animbalance atone
point can becorrected later; it'sanongoing, lifelong
process."
Indeed, several theories ofpsychoanalysis see the
therapeutic relationship asproviding just such anemo-
tional corrective, areparative experience ofattunement.
Mirroring isthe term used bysome psychoanalytic
thinkers forthetherapist's reflecting back totheclient
anunderstanding ofhisinner state, just asanattuned
mother does with her infant. The emotional synchrony
isunstated and outside conscious awareness, though a
patient may bask inthesense ofbeing deeply acknow-
ledged and understood.
The lifetime emotional costs oflack ofattunement in
childhood can begreat—and not just forthe child. A
study ofcriminals who committed thecruelest and most
violent crimes found that theone characteristic oftheir
early lives that setthem apart from other criminals was
that they had been shuttled from foster home tofoster
home, orraised inorphanages—life histories that sug-
gest emotional neglect and little opportunity forattune-
ment.10202/661

While emotional neglect seems todull empathy, there
isaparadoxical result from intense, sustained emotional
abuse, including cruel, sadistic threats, humiliations,
and plain meanness. Children who endure such abuse
can become hyperalert totheemotions ofthose around
them, inwhat amounts toapost-traumatic vigilance to
cues that have signaled threat. Such anobsessive preoc-
cupation with thefeelings ofothers istypical ofpsycho-
logically abused children who inadulthood suffer the
mercurial, intense emotional ups and downs that are
sometimes diagnosed as"borderline personality dis-
order." Many such people aregifted atsensing what oth-
ersaround them arefeeling, and itisquite common for
them toreport having suffered emotional abuse inchild-
hood.11
THE NEUROLOGY OF EMPATHY
Asissooften the case inneurology, reports ofquirky
and bizarre cases were among the early clues tothe
brain basis ofempathy. A1975 report, forinstance, re-
viewed several cases inwhich patients with certain le-
sions intheright area ofthefrontal lobes had acurious
deficit: they were unable tounderstand the emotional
message inpeople's tone ofvoice, though they were per-
fectly able tounderstand their words. Asarcastic
"Thanks," agrateful "Thanks," and anangry "Thanks"203/661

allhad thesame neutral meaning forthem. Bycontrast,
a1979 report spoke ofpatients with injuries inother
parts oftheright hemisphere who had avery different
gap intheir emotional perception. These patients were
unable toexpress their own emotions through their tone
ofvoice orbygesture. They knew what they felt, but
they simply could not convey it.Allthese cortical brain
regions, thevarious authors noted, had strong connec-
tions to the limbic system.
These studies were reviewed asbackground toasem-
inal paper byLeslie Brothers, apsychiatrist attheCali-
fornia Institute ofTechnology, onthe biology ofem-
pathy.12Reviewing both neurological findings and com-
parative studies with animals, Brothers points tothe
amygdala and itsconnections totheassociation area of
thevisual cortex aspart ofthekeybrain circuitry under-
lying empathy.
Much ofthe relevant neurological research isfrom
work with animals, especially nonhuman primates. That
such primates display empathy—or "emotional commu-
nication," asBrothers prefers tosay—is clear not just
from anecdotal accounts, but also from studies such as
thefollowing: Rhesus monkeys were trained first tofear
acertain tone byhearing itwhile they received anelec-
tricshock. Then they learned toavoid theelectric shock
bypushing alever whenever they heard thetone. Next,204/661

pairs ofthese monkeys were putinseparate cages, their
only communication being through closed-circuit TV,
which allowed them tosee pictures ofthe face ofthe
other monkey. The first monkey, but not the second,
then heard the dreaded tone sound, which brought a
look offear toitsface. Atthat moment, thesecond mon-
key, seeing fear ontheface ofthefirst, pushed thelever
that prevented the shock—an actofempathy, ifnot of
altruism.
Having established that nonhuman primates doin-
deed read emotions from the faces oftheir peers, re-
searchers gently inserted long, fine-tipped electrodes in-
tothebrains ofmonkeys. These electrodes allowed the
recording ofactivity inasingle neuron. Electrodes tap-
ping neurons inthevisual cortex and intheamygdala
showed that when one monkey saw theface ofanother,
that information ledtoaneuron firing first inthevisual
cortex, then intheamygdala. This pathway, ofcourse, is
astandard route for information that isemotionally
arousing. But what issurprising about results from such
studies isthat they have also identified neurons inthe
visual cortex that seem tofireonly inresponse tospecif-
icfacial expressions orgestures, such asathreatening
opening ofthe mouth, afearful grimace, oradocile
crouch. These neurons are distinct from others inthe
same region that recognize familiar faces. This would205/661

seem tomean that thebrain isdesigned from thebegin-
ning torespond tospecific emotional expressions—that
is, empathy is a given of biology.
Another line ofevidence for the key role ofthe
amygdala-cortical pathway inreading and responding to
emotions, Brothers suggests, isresearch inwhich mon-
keys inthe wild had the connections toand from the
amygdala and cortex severed. When they were released
back totheir troops, these monkeys were able tocon-
tend with ordinary tasks such asfeeding themselves and
climbing trees. But theunfortunate monkeys had lost all
sense ofhow torespond emotionally toother monkeys
intheir band. Even when one made afriendly approach,
they would run away, and eventually lived asisolates,
shunning contact with their own troop.
The very regions ofthecortex where theemotion-spe-
cific neurons concentrate arealso, Brothers notes, those
with the heaviest connection tothe amygdala; reading
emotion involves theamygdala-cortical circuitry, which
has akey role inorchestrating the appropriate re-
sponses. "The survival value ofsuch asystem isobvious"
fornonhuman primates, notes Brothers. "The percep-
tion ofanother individual's approach should give rise to
aspecific pattern of[physiological response]—and very
quickly—tailored towhether theintent istobite, tohave
a quiet grooming session, or to copulate."13206/661

Asimilar physiological basis forempathy inushu-
mans issuggested inresearch byRobert Levenson, a
University ofCalifornia atBerkeley psychologist who
has studied married couples trying toguess what their
partner isfeeling during aheated discussion.14His
method issimple: the couple isvideotaped and their
physiological responses measured while talking over
some troubling issue intheir marriage—how todiscip-
line thekids, spending habits, and thelike. Each partner
reviews thetape and narrates what heorshewas feeling
from moment tomoment. Then thepartner reviews the
tape asecond time, now trying toread the other's
feelings.
The most empathic accuracy occurred inthose hus-
bands and wives whose own physiology tracked that of
thespouse they were watching. That is,when their part-
ner had anelevated sweat response, sodid they; when
their partner had adrop inheart rate, their heart
slowed. Inshort, their body mimicked the subtle,
moment-to-moment physical reactions oftheir spouse.
Ifthe viewer's physiological patterns simply repeated
their own during theoriginal interaction, they were very
poor atsurmising what their partner was feeling. Only
when their bodies were in synch was there empathy.
This suggests that when theemotional brain isdriving
the body with astrong reaction—the heat ofanger,207/661

say—there can belittle ornoempathy. Empathy re-
quires enough calm and receptivity sothat the subtle
signals offeeling from another person can bereceived
and mimicked by one's own emotional brain.
EMPATHY AND ETHICS: THE ROOTS
OF ALTRUISM
"Never send toknow forwhom thebell tolls; ittolls for
thee" isone ofthemost famous lines inEnglish literat-
ure. John Donne's sentiment speaks totheheart ofthe
link between empathy and caring: another's pain is
one's own. Tofeel with another istocare. Inthis sense,
theopposite ofempathy isantipathy. The empathic at-
titude isengaged again and again inmoral judgments,
formoral dilemmas involve potential victims: Should
you lietokeep from hurting afriend's feelings? Should
you keep apromise tovisit asick friend oraccept alast-
minute invitation toadinner party instead? When
should alife-support system bekept going forsomeone
who would otherwise die?
These moral questions areposed bytheempathy re-
searcher Martin Hoffman, who argues that theroots of
morality aretobefound inempathy, since itisempath-
izing with the potential victims—someone inpain,
danger, ordeprivation, say—and sosharing their dis-
tress that moves people toacttohelp them.15Beyond208/661

this immediate link between empathy and altruism in
personal encounters, Hoffman proposes that the same
capacity for empathic affect, for putting oneself in
another's place, leads people tofollow certain moral
principles.
Hoffman sees anatural progression inempathy from
infancy onward. Aswehave seen, atone year ofage a
child feels indistress herself when she sees another fall
and start tocry; herrapport issostrong and immediate
that she puts her thumb inher mouth and buries her
head inher mother's lap, asifshe herself were hurt.
After the first year, when infants become more aware
that they are distinct from others, they actively tryto
soothe another crying infant, offering them their teddy
bears, forexample. Asearly astheage oftwo, children
begin torealize that someone else's feelings differ from
their own, and sothey become more sensitive tocues re-
vealing what another actually feels; atthis point they
might, forexample, recognize that another child's pride
might mean that the best way tohelp them deal with
their tears is not to call undue attention to them.
Bylate childhood themost advanced level ofempathy
emerges, aschildren are able tounderstand distress
beyond the immediate situation, and tosee that
someone's condition orstation inlifemay beasource of
chronic distress. Atthis point they can feel fortheplight209/661

ofanentire group, such asthepoor, theoppressed, the
outcast. That understanding, inadolescence, can but-
tress moral convictions centered onwanting toalleviate
misfortune and injustice.
Empathy underlies many facets ofmoral judgment
and action. One is"empathic anger," which John Stuart
Mill described as"the natural feeling ofretaliation .
rendered byintellect and sympathy applicable to…
those hurts which wound usthrough wounding others";
Mill dubbed this the"guardian ofjustice." Another in-
stance inwhich empathy leads tomoral action iswhen a
bystander ismoved tointervene onbehalf ofavictim;
theresearch shows that themore empathy abystander
feels forthevictim, themore likely itisthat shewill in-
tervene. There issome evidence that the level ofem-
pathy people feel shades their moral judgments aswell.
For example, studies inGermany and theUnited States
found that themore empathic people are, themore they
favor themoral principle that resources should bealloc-
ated according to people's need.16
LIFE WITHOUT EMPATHY THE MIND
OF THE MOLESTER, THE MORALS OF
THE SOCIOPATH
Eric Eckardt was involved inaninfamous crime: the
bodyguard ofskater Tonya Harding, Eckardt had210/661

arranged to have thugs attack Nancy Kerrigan,
Harding's archrival forthe1994 women's Olympic fig-
ure skating gold medal. Inthe attack, Kerrigan's knee
was battered, sidelining her during crucial training
months. But when Eckardt saw theimage ofasobbing
Kerrigan ontelevision, hehad asudden rush ofremorse,
and sought outafriend tobare hissecret, beginning the
sequence that ledtothearrest oftheattackers. Such is
the power of empathy.
But itistypically, and tragically, lacking inthose who
commit themost mean-spirited ofcrimes. Apsycholo-
gical fault line iscommon torapists, child molesters,
and many perpetrators offamily violence alike: they are
incapable ofempathy. This inability tofeel their victims'
pain allows them totellthemselves lies that encourage
their crime. For rapists, thelies include "Women really
want toberaped" or"Ifshe resists, she's just playing
hard toget"; formolesters, "I'm not hurting thechild,
just showing love" or"This isjust another form ofaffec-
tion"; forphysically abusive parents, "This isjust good
discipline." These self-justifications are allcollected
from what people being treated forthese problems say
they have told themselves asthey were brutalizing their
victims, or preparing to do so.
The blotting out ofempathy asthese people inflict
damage onvictims isalmost always part ofanemotional211/661

cycle that precipitates their cruel acts. Witness theemo-
tional sequence that typically leads toasexcrime such
aschild molestation.17The cycle begins with the mo-
lester feeling upset: angry, depressed, lonely. These sen-
timents might betriggered by, say, watching happy
couples onTV, and then feeling depressed about being
alone. The molester then seeks solace inafavored
fantasy, typically about awarm friendship with achild;
the fantasy becomes sexual and ends inmasturbation.
Afterward, themolester feels atemporary relief from the
sadness, buttherelief isshort-lived; thedepression and
loneliness return even more strongly. The molester be-
gins tothink about acting outthefantasy, telling himself
justifications like "I'm not doing any real harm ifthe
child isnotphysically hurt" and "Ifachild really didn't
want to have sex with me, she could stop it."
Atthis point themolester isseeing thechild through
thelens oftheperverted fantasy, not with empathy for
what areal child would feel inthesituation. That emo-
tional detachment characterizes everything that follows,
from theensuing plan togetachild alone, tothecareful
rehearsal ofwhat will happen, and then theexecution of
theplan. Allofitispursued asthough thechild involved
had nofeelings ofherown; instead themolester projects
onher the cooperative attitude ofthe child inhis
fantasy. Her feelings—revulsion, fear, disgust—do not212/661

register. Ifthey did, itwould "ruin" things for the
molester.
This utter lack ofempathy fortheir victims isone of
the main focuses ofnew treatments being devised for
child molesters and other such offenders. Inone ofthe
most promising treatment programs, theoffenders read
heart-wrenching accounts ofcrimes like their own, told
from the victim's perspective. They also watch video-
tapes ofvictims tearfully telling what itwas like tobe
molested. The offenders then write about their own of-
fense from the victim's point ofview, imagining what
the victim felt. They read this account toatherapy
group, and trytoanswer questions about the assault
from thevictim's perspective. Finally, theoffender goes
through asimulated reenactment ofthecrime, this time
playing the role of the victim.
William Pithers, theVermont prison psychologist who
developed this perspective-taking therapy, told me,
"Empathy with thevictim shifts perception sothat the
denial ofpain, even inone's fantasies, isdifficult" and so
strengthens themen's motivation tofight their perverse
sexual urges. Sex offenders who have been through the
program inprison had only half therate ofsubsequent
offenses after release compared tothose who had no
such treatment. Without this initial empathy-inspired
motivation, none of the rest of treatment will work.213/661

While there may besome small hope forinstilling a
sense ofempathy inoffenders such aschild molesters,
there ismuch less foranother criminal type, thepsycho-
path (more recently called thesociopath asapsychiatric
diagnosis). Psychopaths are notorious forbeing both
charming and completely without remorse foreven the
most cruel and heartless acts. Psychopathy, theincapa-
city tofeel empathy orcompassion ofany sort, orthe
least twinge ofconscience, isone ofthemore perplexing
ofemotional defects. The heart ofthepsychopath's cold-
ness seems tolieinaninability tomake anything more
than the shallowest ofemotional connections. The
cruelest ofcriminals, such assadistic serial killers who
delight inthesuffering oftheir victims before they die,
are the epitome of psychopathy.18
Psychopaths arealso glib liars, willing tosayanything
togetwhat they want, and they manipulate their vic-
tims' emotions with the same cynicism. Consider the
performance ofFaro, aseventeen-year-old member ofa
Los Angeles gang who crippled a mother and her baby in
adrive-by shooting, which hedescribed with more pride
than remorse. Driving inacarwith Leon Bing, who was
writing abook about the Los Angeles gangs the Crips
and theBloods, Faro wants toshow off.Faro tells Bing
he's "gonna look crazy" atthe"two dudes" inthenext
car. As Bing recounts the exchange:214/661

The driver, sensing that someone islooking athim,
glances over atmy car. His eyes connect with
Faro's, widen foraninstant. Then hebreaks the
contact, looks down, looks away. And there isno
mistaking what I saw there in his eyes: It was fear.
Faro demonstrates thelook heflashed atthenext
car for Bing:
Helooks straight atmeand everything about his
face shifts and changes, asifbysome trick oftime-
lapse photography. Itbecomes anightmare face,
and itisascary thing tosee. Ittells you that ifyou
return hisstare, ifyou challenge this kid, you'd bet-
terbeable tostand your ground. His look tells you
that hedoesn't care about anything, not your life
and not his.19
Ofcourse, inbehavior ascomplex ascrime, there are
many plausible explanations that donot evoke abiolo-
gical basis. One might bethat aperverse kind ofemo-
tional skill—intimidating other people—has survival
value inviolent neighborhoods, asmight turning to
crime; inthese cases toomuch empathy might becoun-
terproductive. Indeed, anopportunistic lack ofempathy
may bea"virtue" inmany roles inlife, from "bad cop"
police interrogator tocorporate raider. Men who have215/661

been torturers forterrorist states, forexample, describe
how they learned todissociate from thefeelings oftheir
victims inorder todotheir "job." There aremany routes
to manipulativeness.
One ofthe more ominous ways this absence ofem-
pathy may display itself was discovered byaccident ina
study ofthemost vicious ofwife batterers. The research
revealed aphysiological anomaly among many ofthe
most violent husbands, who regularly beat uptheir
wives orthreaten them with knives orguns: the hus-
bands dosoinacold, calculating state rather than while
being carried away bytheheat offury.20Astheir anger
mounts, the anomaly emerges: their heart rate drops,
instead ofclimbing higher, asisordinarily thecase with
mounting fury. This means they aregrowing physiolo-
gically calmer, even asthey getmore belligerent and ab-
usive. Their violence appears tobeacalculated actof
terrorism, amethod forcontrolling their wives byin-
stilling fear.
These coolly brutal husbands areabreed apart from
most other men who batter their wives. For one, they
arefarmore likely tobeviolent outside themarriage as
well, getting into barfights and battling with coworkers
and other family members. And while most men who
become violent with their wives dosoimpulsively, outof
rage after feeling rejected orjealous, orout offear of216/661

abandonment, these calculating batterers will strike out
attheir wives seemingly fornoreason atall—and once
they start, nothing she does, including trying toleave,
seems to restrain their violence.
Some researchers who study criminal psychopaths
suspect their cold manipulativeness, such absence of
empathy orcaring, can sometimes stem from aneural
defect. *Apossible physiological basis ofheartless psy-
chopathy has been shown intwo ways, both ofwhich
suggest the involvement ofneural pathways tothe
limbic brain. Inone, people's brain waves aremeasured
asthey trytodecipher words that have been scrambled.
The words areflashed very quickly, forjust atenth ofa
second orso.Most people react differently toemotional
words such askillthan toneutral words such aschair:
they can decide more quickly iftheemotional word was
scrambled, and their brains show adistinctive wave pat-
tern inresponse tothe emotional words, but not the
neutral ones. But psychopaths have neither ofthese re-
sponses: their brains donotshow thedistinctive pattern
inresponse totheemotional words, and they donotre-
spond more quickly tothem, suggesting adisruption in
circuits between theverbal cortex, which recognizes the
word, and the limbic brain, which attaches feeling to it.
Robert Hare, theUniversity ofBritish Columbia psy-
chologist who has done this research, interprets these217/661

results asmeaning that psychopaths have ashallow un-
derstanding ofemotional words, areflection oftheir
more general shallowness inthe affective realm. The
callousness ofpsychopaths, Hare believes, isbased in
part onanother physiological pattern hediscovered in
earlier research, one that also suggests anirregularity in
theworkings oftheamygdala and related circuits: psy-
chopaths about toreceive anelectrical shock show no
sign ofthefear response that isnormal inpeople about
toexperience pain.21Because theprospect ofpain does
not trigger asurge ofanxiety, Hare contends that psy-
chopaths lack concern about future punishment for
what they do.And because they themselves donot feel
fear, they have noempathy—or compassion—for thefear
and pain of their victims.218/661

*Anote ofcaution: Ifthere arebiological patterns at
play insome kinds ofcriminality—such asaneural de-
fect inempathy—that does not argue that allcriminals
arebiologically flawed, orthat there issome biological
marker forcrime. Acontroversy hasraged onthis issue,
and thebest consensus isthat there isnosuch biological
marker, and certainly no"criminal gene." Even ifthere
isabiological basis foralack ofempathy insome cases,
that does not mean allwho have itwill drift tocrime;
most will not. Alack ofempathy should befactored in
with allthe other psychological, economic, and social
forces that contribute to a vector toward criminality.219/661

8
The Social Arts
Assooften happens tofive-year-olds with younger sib-
lings, Len has lost allpatience with Jay, histwo-and-a-
half-year-old brother, who ismaking amess oftheLego
blocks they've been playing with. Carried away bya
wave ofrage, Len bites Jay, who breaks into tears. Their
mother, hearing Jay's pained yelp, bustles over and
scolds Len, ordering him toput away those objects of
contention, theLego blocks. Atthis—what surely must
seem agross miscarriage ofjustice—Len bursts outcry-
ing. Still peeved, his mother refuses to console him.
But Len isproffered comfort from anunlikely source:
Jay, who, although theoriginal injured party, isnow so
concerned byhisolder brother's tears that heunder-
takes acampaign tocalm Len down. The exchange goes
something like this:1
"Len, don't," Jay implores. "Stop crying, mate. Stop it
crying."
But Len still cries. His direct plea afailure, Jay be-
seeches their mother onLen's behalf: "Len crying,
Mummy! Len crying. Look. Me show you. Len crying."
And then, turning toLen, Jay adopts amothering
mode, patting hisweeping brother ashereassures him
in soothing tones, "Look, Len. No go on crying."

Len's sobs continue, despite the comforting. SoJay
turns toanother tactic, lending ahelping hand input-
ting away theLego blocks intheir bag, with afriendly,
“Ah, Leb, Len. I put it back for Lennie, hey?”
Even so,the tears continue. The ever-ingenious Jay
tries yet another strategy, distraction. Showing his
brother atoycar, Jay tries todraw hisattention away
from the minor tragedy that has just befallen him.
"There's this man inhere. What's this, Len? What's this,
Len?"
Len takes nointerest. He's inconsolable; his tears
know noend. Losing herpatience with him, hismother
resorts tothat classic parental threat, "Do you want me
tosmack you?" towhich Len responds with awavering,
"No."
"Then just stop it,please," says hismother firmly, ifa
bit exasperatedly.
Through hissobs, Len manages apathetic, gasping,
"I'm trying to."
Which prompts Jay's final stratagem: borrowing his
mother's firmness and voice ofauthority, hethreatens,
"Stop crying, Len. Smack your bottom!"
This microdrama reveals the remarkable emotional
sophistication that atoddler ofjust thirty months can
bring tobear intrying tomanage someone else's emo-
tions. Inhisurgent attempts tosoothe hisbrother, Jayis221/661

able todraw onalarge repertoire oftactics, ranging
from asimple plea, toseeking anally inhismother (no
help, she), tophysically comforting him, tolending a
helping hand, todistraction, threats, and direct com-
mands. Nodoubt Jay relies onanarsenal that has been
tried with him inhisown moments ofdistress. Nomat-
ter. What counts is that he can readily put them to use in
a pinch even at this very young age.
Ofcourse, asevery parent ofyoung children knows,
Jay's display ofempathy and soothing isbynomeans
universal. Itisperhaps aslikely that achild hisagewill
seeasibling's upset asachance forvengeance, and so
dowhatever ittakes tomake theupset even worse. The
same skills canbeused totease ortorment asibling. But
even that mean-spiritedness bespeaks theemergence of
acrucial emotional aptitude: the ability toknow
another's feelings and toactinaway that further shapes
those feelings. Being able tomanage emotions in
someone else isthe core ofthe art ofhandling
relationships.
Tomanifest such interpersonal power, toddlers must
first reach abenchmark ofself-control, thebeginnings
ofthecapacity todamp down their own anger and dis-
tress, their impulses and excitement—even ifthat ability
usually falters. Attunement toothers demands amodic-
um ofcalm inoneself. Tentative signs ofthis ability to222/661

manage their own emotions emerge around this same
period: toddlers begin tobeable towait without wailing,
toargue orcajole toget their way rather than using
brute force—even ifthey don't always choose tousethis
ability. Patience emerges asanalternative totantrums,
atleast occasionally. And signs ofempathy emerge by
age two; itwas Jay's empathy, theroot ofcompassion,
that drove him totrysohard tocheer uphissobbing
brother, Len. Thus handling emotions insomeone
else—the fine artofrelationships—requires theripeness
oftwo other emotional skills, self-management and
empathy.
With this base, the"people skills" ripen. These arethe
social competences that make foreffectiveness indeal-
ings with others; deficits here lead toineptness inthe
social world orrepeated interpersonal disasters. Indeed,
itisprecisely thelack ofthese skills that can cause even
theintellectually brightest tofounder intheir relation-
ships, coming offasarrogant, obnoxious, orinsensitive.
These social abilities allow one toshape anencounter, to
mobilize and inspire others, tothrive inintimate rela-
tionships, topersuade and influence, toput others at
ease.
SHOW SOME EMOTION223/661

One key social competence ishow well orpoorly people
express their own feelings. Paul Ekman uses the term
display rules forthesocial consensus about which feel-
ings can beproperly shown when. Cultures sometimes
vary tremendously inthis regard. For example, Ekman
and colleagues inJapan studied the facial reactions of
students toahorrific film about ritual circumcisions of
teenage Aborigines. When the Japanese students
watched thefilm with anauthority figure present, their
faces showed only the slightest hints ofreaction. But
when they thought they were alone (though they were
being taped byasecret camera) their faces twisted into
vivid mixes of anguished distress, dread, and disgust.
There areseveral basic kinds ofdisplay rules.2One is
minimizing the show ofemotion—this isthe Japanese
norm forfeelings ofdistress inthepresence ofsomeone
inauthority, which the students were following when
they masked their upset with apoker face. Another is
exaggerating what one feels bymagnifying the emo-
tional expression; this istheploy used bythesix-year-
old who dramatically twists her face into apathetic
frown, lips quivering, asshe runs tocomplain toher
mother about being teased byherolder brother. Athird
issubstituting one feeling foranother; this comes into
play insome Asian cultures where itisimpolite tosay
no,and positive (but false) assurances aregiven instead.224/661

How well one employs these strategies, and knows when
to do so, is one factor in emotional intelligence.
We learn these display rules very early, partly byex-
plicit instruction. Aneducation indisplay rules isimpar-
tedwhen weinstruct achild not toseem disappointed,
but tosmile and saythank you instead, when Grandpa
has given adreadful but well-meant birthday present.
This education indisplay rules, though, ismore often
through modeling: children learn todowhat they see
done. Ineducating the sentiments, emotions are both
themedium and themessage. Ifachild istold to"smile
and saythank you" byaparent who is,atthat moment,
harsh, demanding, and cold—who hisses the message
instead ofwarmly whispering it—the child ismore likely
tolearn avery different lesson, and infact respond to
Grandpa with afrown and acurt, flat"Thank you." The
effect onGrandpa isvery different: inthefirst case he's
happy (though misled); inthe second he's hurt bythe
mixed message.
Emotional displays, ofcourse, have immediate con-
sequences intheimpact they make ontheperson who
receives them. The rule being learned bythe child is
something like, "Mask your real feelings when they will
hurt someone you love; substitute aphony, but less
hurtful feeling instead." Such rules forexpressing emo-
tions are more than part ofthe lexicon ofsocial225/661

propriety; they dictate how our own feelings impact on
everyone else. Tofollow these rules well istohave op-
timal impact; todosopoorly istofoment emotional
havoc.
Actors, ofcourse, areartists oftheemotional display;
their expressiveness iswhat evokes response intheir
audience. And, nodoubt, some ofuscome into lifeas
natural actors. But partly because thelessons welearn
about display rules vary according tothemodels we've
had, people differ greatly in their adeptness.
EXPRESSIVNESS AND EMOTIONAL
CONTAGION
Itwas early intheVietnam War, and anAmerican pla-
toon was hunkered down insome rice paddies, inthe
heat ofafirefight with theVietcong. Suddenly aline of
sixmonks started walking along theelevated berms that
separated paddy from paddy. Perfectly calm and poised,
the monks walked directly toward the line of fire.
"They didn't look right, they didn't look left. They
walked straight through," recalls David Busch, one of
the American soldiers. "Itwas really strange, because
nobody shot at'em. And after they walked over the
berm, suddenly allthefight was outofme. Itjust didn't
feel like Iwanted todothis anymore, atleast not that226/661

day. Itmust have been that way foreverybody, because
everybody quit. We just stopped fighting."3
The power ofthemonks' quietly courageous calm to
pacify soldiers inthe heat ofbattle illustrates abasic
principle ofsocial life: Emotions arecontagious. Tobe
sure, this tale marks anextreme. Most emotional conta-
gion isfarmore subtle, part ofatacit exchange that hap-
pens inevery encounter. Wetransmit and catch moods
from each other inwhat amounts toasubterranean eco-
nomy ofthepsyche inwhich some encounters aretoxic,
some nourishing. This emotional exchange istypically at
asubtle, almost imperceptible level; theway asalesper-
son says thank you can leave usfeeling ignored, resen-
ted, orgenuinely welcomed and appreciated. We catch
feelings from one another asthough they were some
kind of social virus.
We send emotional signals inevery encounter, and
those signals affect those wearewith. The more adroit
weare socially, the better wecontrol the signals we
send; thereserve ofpolite society is,after all,simply a
means toensure that nodisturbing emotional leakage
will unsettle the encounter (asocial rule that, when
brought into the domain ofintimate relationships, is
stifling). Emotional intelligence includes managing this
exchange; "popular" and "charming" areterms weuse
for people whom we like tobewith because their227/661

emotional skills make usfeel good. People who areable
tohelp others soothe their feelings have anespecially
valued social commodity; they arethesouls others turn
towhen ingreatest emotional need. We areallpart of
each other's tool kitforemotional change, forbetter or
for worse.
Consider aremarkable demonstration ofthesubtlety
with which emotions pass from one person toanother.
Inasimple experiment two volunteers filled out a
checklist about their moods atthemoment, then simply
satfacing each other quietly while waiting foranexperi-
menter toreturn tothe room. Two minutes later she
came back and asked them tofillout amood checklist
again. The pairs were purposely composed ofone part-
ner who was highly expressive ofemotion and one who
was deadpan. Invariably themood oftheone who was
more expressive ofemotions had been transferred tothe
more passive partner.4
How does this magical transmission occur? The most
likely answer isthat weunconsciously imitate theemo-
tions weseedisplayed bysomeone else, through anout-
of-awareness motor mimicry oftheir facial expression,
gestures, tone ofvoice, and other nonverbal markers of
emotion. Through this imitation people re-create in
themselves the mood ofthe other person—a low-key
version ofthe Stanislavsky method, inwhich actors228/661

recall gestures, movements, and other expressions ofan
emotion they have felt strongly inthepast inorder to
evoke those feelings once again.
The day-to-day imitation offeeling isordinarily quite
subtle. Ulf Dimberg, aSwedish researcher atthe
University ofUppsala, found that when people view a
smiling orangry face, their own faces show evidence of
that same mood through slight changes inthe facial
muscles. The changes are evident through electronic
sensors but are typically not visible to the naked eye.
When two people interact, the direction ofmood
transfer isfrom theone who ismore forceful inexpress-
ingfeelings totheone who ismore passive. But some
people areparticularly susceptible toemotional conta-
gion; their innate sensitivity makes their autonomic
nervous system (amarker ofemotional activity) more
easily triggered. This ability seems tomake them more
impressionable; sentimental commercials can move
them totears, while aquick chat with someone who is
feeling cheerful can buoy them (italso may make them
more empathic, since they are more readily moved by
someone else's feelings).
John Cacioppo, thesocial psychophysiologist atOhio
State University who has studied this subtle emotional
exchange, observes, "Just seeing someone express an
emotion can evoke that mood, whether you realize you229/661

mimic thefacial expression ornot. This happens tous
allthetime—there's adance, asynchrony, atransmis-
sion ofemotions. This mood synchrony determines
whether you feel an interaction went well or not."
The degree ofemotional rapport people feel inanen-
counter ismirrored byhow tightly orchestrated their
physical movements areasthey talk—an index ofclose-
ness that istypically outofawareness. One person nods
just asthe other makes apoint, orboth shift intheir
chairs atthesame moment, orone leans forward asthe
other moves back. The orchestration can beassubtle as
both people rocking inswivel chairs atthesame rhythm.
Just asDaniel Stern found inwatching the synchrony
between attuned mothers and their infants, thesame re-
ciprocity links themovements ofpeople who feel emo-
tional rapport.
This synchrony seems tofacilitate thesending and re-
ceiving ofmoods, even ifthe moods are negative. For
example, inone study ofphysical synchrony, women
who were depressed came toalaboratory with their ro-
mantic partners, and discussed aproblem intheir rela-
tionship. The more synchrony between thepartners at
the nonverbal level, the worse the depressed women's
partners feltafter thediscussion—they had caught their
girlfriends' bad moods.5Inshort, whether people feel230/661

upbeat ordown, themore physically attuned their en-
counter, the more similar their moods will become.
The synchrony between teachers and students indic-
ates how much rapport they feel; studies inclassrooms
show that the closer the movement coordination
between teacher and student, the more they felt
friendly, happy, enthused, interested, and easygoing
while interacting. Ingeneral, ahigh level ofsynchrony
inaninteraction means the people involved like each
other. Frank Bemieri, theOregon State University psy-
chologist who didthese studies, told me, "How awkward
orcomfortable you feel with someone isatsome level
physical. You need tohave compatible timing, toco-
ordinate your movements, tofeel comfortable. Syn-
chrony reflects the depth ofengagement between the
partners; ifyou're highly engaged, your moods begin to
mesh, whether positive or negative."
Inshort, coordination ofmoods istheessence ofrap-
port, theadult version oftheattunement amother has
with her infant. One determinant ofinterpersonal ef-
fectiveness, Cacioppo proposes, ishow deftly people
carry outthis emotional synchrony. Ifthey areadept at
attuning topeople's moods, orcan easily bring others
under thesway oftheir own, then their interactions will
gomore smoothly attheemotional level. The mark ofa
powerful leader orperformer isbeing able tomove an231/661

audience ofthousands inthis way. Bythesame token,
Cacioppo points outthat people who arepoor atreceiv-
ingand sending emotions areprone toproblems intheir
relationships, since people often feel uncomfortable
with them, even ifthey can't articulate just why this is
so.
Setting the emotional tone ofaninteraction is,ina
sense, asign ofdominance atadeep and intimate level:
itmeans driving theemotional state oftheother person.
This power todetermine emotion isakin towhat is
called inbiology azeitgeber (literally, "time-grabber"), a
process (such asthe day-night cycle orthe monthly
phases ofthe moon) that entrains biological rhythms.
For acouple dancing, the music isabodily zeitgeber.
When itcomes topersonal encounters, theperson who
has the more forceful expressivity—or the most
power—is typically theone whose emotions entrain the
other. Dominant partners talk more, while the subor-
dinate partner watches the other's face more—a setup
forthe transmission ofaffect. Bythe same token, the
forcefulness ofagood speaker—a politician oranevan-
gelist, say—works toentrain the emotions ofthe audi-
ence.6That iswhat wemean by,"He had them inthe
palm ofhishand." Emotional entrainment istheheart
of influence.232/661

THE RUDIMENTS OF SOCIAL
INTELLIGENCE
It'srecess atapreschool, and aband ofboys isrunning
across thegrass. Reggie trips, hurts hisknee, and starts
crying, but theother boys keep right onrunning—save
forRoger, who stops. AsReggie's sobs subside Roger
reaches down and rubs hisown knee, calling out, "Ihurt
my knee, too!"
Roger iscited ashaving exemplary interpersonal in-
telligence byThomas Hatch, acolleague ofHoward
Gardner atSpectrum, theschool based ontheconcept of
multiple intelligences.7Roger, itseems, isunusually ad-
ept atrecognizing the feelings ofhis playmates and
making rapid, smooth connections with them. Itwas
only Roger who noticed Reggie's plight and pain, and
only Roger who tried toprovide some solace, even ifall
hecould offer was rubbing hisown knee. This small ges-
ture bespeaks atalent forrapport, anemotional skill es-
sential for the preservation ofclose relationships,
whether inamarriage, afriendship, orabusiness part-
nership. Such skills inpreschoolers arethebuds oftal-
ents that ripen through life.
Roger's talent represents one offour separate abilities
that Hatch and Gardner identify ascomponents ofinter-
personal intelligence:233/661

•Organizing groups —the essential skill oftheleader,
this involves initiating and coordinating theefforts ofa
network ofpeople. This isthetalent seen intheater dir-
ectors orproducers, inmilitary officers, and ineffective
heads oforganizations and units ofallkinds. Onthe
playground, this isthechild who takes thelead indecid-
ing what everyone will play, or becomes team captain.
•Negotiating solutions —the talent ofthe mediator,
preventing conflicts orresolving those that flare up.
People who have this ability excel indeal-making, inar-
bitrating ormediating disputes; they might have aca-
reer indiplomacy, inarbitration orlaw, orasmiddle-
men ormanagers oftakeovers. These arethekids who
settle arguments on the playing field.
•Personal connection —Roger's talent, that ofem-
pathy and connecting. This makes iteasy toenter into
anencounter ortorecognize and respond fittingly to
people's feelings and concerns—the artofrelationship.
Such people make good "team players," dependable
spouses, good friends orbusiness partners; inthebusi-
ness world they dowell assalespeople ormanagers, or
can beexcellent teachers. Children like Roger getalong
well with virtually everyone else, easily enter into play-
ingwith them, and arehappy doing so.These children
tend tobebest atreading emotions from facial expres-
sions and are most liked by their classmates.234/661

•Social analysis —being able todetect and have in-
sights about people's feelings, motives, and concerns.
This knowledge ofhow others feel can lead toaneasy
intimacy orsense ofrapport. Atitsbest, this ability
makes one acompetent therapist orcounselor—or, if
combined with some literary talent, agifted novelist or
dramatist.
Taken together, these skills arethestuff ofinterper-
sonal polish, thenecessary ingredients forcharm, social
success, even charisma. Those who areadept insocial
intelligence can connect with people quite smoothly, be
astute inreading their reactions and feelings, lead and
organize, and handle thedisputes that arebound toflare
upinany human activity. They arethenatural leaders,
thepeople who can express theunspoken collective sen-
timent and articulate itsoastoguide agroup toward its
goals. They arethekind ofpeople others like tobewith
because they are emotionally nourishing—they leave
other people inagood mood, and evoke thecomment,
"What a pleasure to be around someone like that."
These interpersonal abilities build onother emotional
intelligences. People who make anexcellent social im-
pression, forexample, areadept atmonitoring their own
expression ofemotion, arekeenly attuned tothe ways
others arereacting, and soareable tocontinually fine-
tune their social performance, adjusting ittomake sure235/661

they arehaving thedesired effect. Inthat sense, they are
like skilled actors.
However, ifthese interpersonal abilities arenot bal-
anced byanastute sense ofone's own needs and feelings
and how tofulfill them, they can lead toahollow social
success—a popularity won atthecost ofone's true satis-
faction. Such isthe argument ofMark Snyder, a
University ofMinnesota psychologist who has studied
people whose social skills make them first-rate social
chameleons, champions atmaking agood impression.8
Their psychological credo might well bearemark byW.
H.Auden, who said that hisprivate image ofhimself "is
very different from theimage which Itrytocreate inthe
minds ofothers inorder that they may love me." That
trade-off can bemade ifsocial skills outstrip theability
toknow and honor one's own feelings: inorder tobe
loved—or atleast liked—the social chameleon will seem
tobewhatever those heiswith seem towant. The sign
that someone falls into this pattern, Snyder finds, isthat
they make anexcellent impression, yethave few stable
orsatisfying intimate relationships. Amore healthy pat-
tern, ofcourse, istobalance being true tooneself with
social skills, using them with integrity.
Social chameleons, though, don't mind inthe least
saying one thing and doing another, ifthat will win
them social approval. They simply live with the236/661

discrepancy between their public face and their private
reality. Helena Deutsch, apsychoanalyst, called such
people the"as-if personality," shifting personas with re-
markable plasticity asthey pick upsignals from those
around them. "For some people," Snyder told me, "the
public and private person meshes well, while forothers
there seems tobeonly akaleidoscope ofchanging ap-
pearances. They arelike Woody Allen's character Zelig,
madly trying to fit in with whomever they are with."
Such people trytoscan someone forahint astowhat
iswanted from them before they make aresponse,
rather than simply saying what they truly feel. Toget
along and beliked, they arewilling tomake people they
dislike think they arefriendly with them. And they use
their social abilities tomold their actions asdisparate
social situations demand, sothat they may actlike very
different people depending onwhom they are with,
swinging from bubbly sociability, say, toreserved with-
drawal. Tobesure, totheextent that these traits lead to
effective impression management, they arehighly prized
incertain professions, notably acting, trial law, sales,
diplomacy, and politics.
Another, perhaps more crucial kind ofself-monitoring
seems tomake thedifference between those who end up
asanchorless social chameleons, trying toimpress
everyone, and those who can use their social polish237/661

more inkeeping with their true feelings. That istheca-
pacity tobetrue, asthesaying hasit,"tothine own self,"
which allows acting inaccord with one's deepest feelings
and values nomatter what the social consequences.
Such emotional integrity could well lead to,say, deliber-
ately provoking aconfrontation inorder tocutthrough
duplicity ordenial—a clearing ofthe airthat asocial
chameleon would never attempt.
THE MAKING OF A SOCIAL
INCOMPETENT
There was nodoubt Cecil was bright; hewas acollege-
trained expert inforeign languages, superb attranslat-
ing. But there were crucial ways inwhich hewas com-
pletely inept. Cecil seemed tolack the simplest social
skills. Hewould muff acasual conversation over coffee,
and fumble when having topass the time ofday; in
short, heseemed incapable ofthe most routine social
exchange. Because hislack ofsocial grace was most pro-
found when hewas around women, Cecil came tother-
apy wondering ifperhaps hehad "homosexual tenden-
cies ofanunderlying nature," asheputit,though hehad
no such fantasies.
The real problem, Cecil confided tohistherapist, was
that hefeared that nothing hecould saywould beofany
interest to anybody. This underlying fear only238/661

compounded aprofound paucity ofsocial graces. His
nervousness during encounters ledhim tosnicker and
laugh atthe most awkward moments, even though he
failed tolaugh when someone said something genuinely
funny. Cecil's awkwardness, heconfided tohistherapist,
went back tochildhood; allhislifehehad feltsocially at
ease only when hewas with his older brother, who
somehow helped ease things forhim. But once heleft
home, hisineptitude was overwhelming; hewas socially
paralyzed.
The tale istold byLakin Phillips, apsychologist atGe-
orge Washington University, who proposes that Cecil's
plight stems from afailure tolearn inchildhood the
most elementary lessons of social interaction:
What could Cecil have been taught earlier? To
speak directly toothers when spoken to;toinitiate
social contact, not always wait forothers; tocarry
onaconversation, notsimply fallback onyesorno
orother one-word replies; toexpress gratitude to-
ward others, toletanother person walk before one
inpassing through adoor; towait until one is
served something …tothank others, tosay
"please," toshare, and alltheother elementary in-
teractions webegin toteach children from age2on-
ward.9239/661

Whether Cecil's deficiency was due toanother's failure
toteach him such rudiments ofsocial civility ortohis
own inability tolearn isunclear. But whatever itsroots,
Cecil's story isinstructive because itpoints upthecru-
cial nature ofthecountless lessons children getininter-
action synchrony and theunspoken rules ofsocial har-
mony. The neteffect offailing tofollow these rules isto
create waves, tomake those around usuncomfortable.
The function ofthese rules, ofcourse, istokeep every-
one involved inasocial exchange atease; awkwardness
spawns anxiety. People who lack these skills are inept
not just atsocial niceties, but athandling theemotions
ofthose they encounter; they inevitably leave disturb-
ance in their wake.
We allhave known Cecils, people with anannoying
lack ofsocial graces—people who don't seem toknow
when toend aconversation orphone call and who keep
ontalking, oblivious toallcues and hints tosay good-
bye; people whose conversation centers onthemselves
allthe time, without the least interest inanyone else,
and who ignore tentative attempts torefocus onanother
topic; people who intrude orask"nosy" questions. These
derailments ofasmooth social trajectory allbespeak a
deficit in the rudimentary building blocks of interaction.
Psychologists have coined the term dyssemia (from
theGreek dys- for"difficulty" and semes for"signal") for240/661

what amounts toalearning disability inthe realm of
nonverbal messages; about one intenchildren has one
ormore problems inthis realm.10The problem canbein
apoor sense ofpersonal space, sothat achild stands too
close while talking orspreads their belongings into oth-
erpeople's territory; ininterpreting orusing body lan-
guage poorly; inmisinterpreting ormisusing facial ex-
pressions by,say, failing tomake eye contact; orina
poor sense ofprosody, theemotional quality ofspeech,
so that they talk too shrilly or flatly.
Much research has focused onspotting children who
show signs ofsocial deficiency, children whose awk-
wardness makes them neglected orrejected bytheir
playmates. Apart from children who are spurned be-
cause they arebullies, those whom other children avoid
areinvariably deficient intherudiments offace-to-face
interaction, particularly theunspoken rules that govern
encounters. Ifchildren dopoorly inlanguage, people as-
sume they arenot very bright orpoorly educated; but
when they dopoorly inthenonverbal rules ofinterac-
tion, people—especially playmates—see them as
"strange," and avoid them. These arethechildren who
don't know how tojoin agame gracefully, who touch
others inways that make fordiscomfort rather than ca-
maraderie—in short, who are "off." They are children
who have failed tomaster the silent language of241/661

emotion, and who unwittingly send messages that create
uneasiness.
AsStephen Nowicki, anEmory University psycholo-
gist who studies children's nonverbal abilities, put it,
"Children who can't read orexpress emotions well con-
stantly feel frustrated. Inessence, they don't understand
what's going on.This kind ofcommunication isacon-
stant subtext ofeverything you do;you can't stop show-
ingyour facial expression orposture, orhide your tone
ofvoice. Ifyou make mistakes inwhat emotional mes-
sages you send, you constantly experience that people
react toyou infunny ways—you getrebuffed and don't
know why. Ifyou're thinking you're acting happy butac-
tually seem toohyper orangry, you find other kids get-
ting angry atyou inturn, and you don't realize why.
Such kids end upfeeling nosense ofcontrol over how
other people treat them, that their actions have noim-
pact onwhat happens tothem. Itleaves them feeling
powerless, depressed, and apathetic."
Apart from becoming social isolates, such children
also suffer academically. The classroom, ofcourse, isas
much asocial situation asanacademic one; thesocially
awkward child isaslikely tomisread and misrespond to
ateacher astoanother child. The resulting anxiety and
bewilderment can themselves interfere with their ability
tolearn effectively. Indeed, astests ofchildren's242/661

nonverbal sensitivity have shown, those who misread
emotional cues tend todopoorly inschool compared to
their academic potential as reflected in IQ tests.11
"WE HATE YOU": AT THE THRESHOLD
Social ineptitude isperhaps most painful and explicit
when itcomes toone ofthemore perilous moments in
thelifeofayoung child: being ontheedge ofagroup at
play you want tojoin. Itisamoment ofperil, one when
being liked orhated, belonging ornot, ismade alltoo
public. For that reason that crucial moment has been
thesubject ofintense scrutiny bystudents ofchild de-
velopment, revealing astark contrast inapproach
strategies used bypopular children and bysocial out-
casts. The findings highlight just how crucial itisforso-
cial competence tonotice, interpret, and respond to
emotional and interpersonal cues. While itispoignant
toseeachild hover ontheedge ofothers atplay, want-
ingtojoin inbutbeing leftout, itisauniversal predica-
ment. Even themost popular children aresometimes re-
jected—a study ofsecond and third graders found that
26percent ofthetime themost well liked children were
rebuffed when they tried toenter agroup already at
play.
Young children are brutally candid about the emo-
tional judgment implicit insuch rejections. Witness the243/661

following dialogue from four-year-olds inapreschool.12
Linda wants tojoin Barbara, Nancy, and Bill, who are
playing with toy animals and building blocks. She
watches foraminute, then makes her approach, sitting
next toBarbara and starting toplay with the animals.
Barbara turns to her and says, "You can't play!"
"Yes, Ican," Linda counters. "Ican have some anim-
als, too."
"No, you can't," Barbara says bluntly. "We don't like
you today."
When Bill protests onLinda's behalf, Nancy joins the
attack: "We hate her today."
Because ofthedanger ofbeing told, either explicitly or
implicitly, "We hate you," allchildren areunderstand-
ably cautious onthethreshold ofapproaching agroup.
That anxiety, ofcourse, isprobably not much different
from that felt byagrown-up atacocktail party with
strangers who hangs back from ahappily chatting group
who seem tobeintimate friends. Because this moment
atthethreshold ofagroup issomomentous forachild,
itisalso, asone researcher putit,"highly diagnostic. ..
quickly revealing differences in social skillfulness."13
Typically, newcomers simply watch foratime, then
join invery tentatively atfirst, being more assertive only
invery cautious steps. What matters most forwhether a
child isaccepted ornot ishow well heorshe isable to244/661

enter into thegroup's frame ofreference, sensing what
kind of play is in flow, what out of place.
The two cardinal sins that almost always lead torejec-
tion aretrying totake thelead toosoon and being outof
synch with the frame ofreference. But this isexactly
what unpopular children tend todo:they push their way
into agroup, trying tochange thesubject tooabruptly or
toosoon, oroffering their own opinions, orsimply dis-
agreeing with the others right away—all apparent at-
tempts todraw attention tothemselves. Paradoxically,
this results intheir being ignored orrejected. Bycon-
trast, popular children spend time observing thegroup
tounderstand what's going onbefore entering in,and
then dosomething that shows they accept it;they wait
tohave their status inthegroup confirmed before taking
initiative in suggesting what the group should do.
Let's return toRoger, thefour-year-old whom Thomas
Hatch spotted exhibiting ahigh level ofinterpersonal in-
telligence.14Roger's tactic forentering agroup was first
toobserve, then toimitate what another child was do-
ing, and finally totalk tothe child and fully join the
activity—a winning strategy. Roger's skill was shown, for
instance, when heand Warren were playing atputting
"bombs" (actually pebbles) intheir socks. Warren asks
Roger ifhewants tobeinahelicopter oranairplane.245/661

Roger asks, before committing himself, "Are you ina
helicopter?"15
This seemingly innocuous moment reveals sensitivity
toothers' concerns, and theability toactonthat know-
ledge inaway that maintains the connection. Hatch
comments about Roger, "He 'checks in'with hisplay-
mate sothat they and their play remain connected. I
have watched many other children who simply getin
their own helicopters orplanes and, literally and figurat-
ively, fly away from each other."
EMOTIONAL BRILLIANCE: A CASE
REPORT
Ifthetest ofsocial skill istheability tocalm distressing
emotions inothers, then handling someone atthepeak
ofrage isperhaps theultimate measure ofmastery. The
data onself-regulation ofanger and emotional conta-
gion suggest that one effective strategy might betodis-
tract theangry person, empathize with hisfeelings and
perspective, and then draw him into analternative fo-
cus, one that attunes him with amore positive range of
feeling—a kind of emotional judo.
Such refined skill inthefine artofemotional influence
isperhaps best exemplified byastory told byanold
friend, thelate Terry Dobson, who inthe1950s was one
ofthe first Americans ever tostudy the martial art246/661

aikido inJapan. One afternoon hewas riding home ona
suburban Tokyo train when ahuge, bellicose, and very
drunk and begrimed laborer goton.The man, stagger-
ing, began terrorizing thepassengers: screaming curses,
hetook aswing atawoman holding ababy, sending her
sprawling inthe laps ofanelderly couple, who then
jumped upand joined astampede tothe other end of
thecar. The drunk, taking afew other swings (and, in
hisrage, missing), grabbed themetal pole inthemiddle
of the car with a roar and tried to tear it out of its socket.
Atthat point Terry, who was inpeak physical condi-
tion from daily eight-hour aikido workouts, felt called
upon tointervene, lest someone getseriously hurt. But
herecalled thewords ofhisteacher: "Aikido istheartof
reconciliation. Whoever has the mind tofight has
broken hisconnection with the universe. Ifyou tryto
dominate people you are already defeated. We study
how to resolve conflict, not how to start it."
Indeed, Terry had agreed upon beginning lessons with
histeacher never topick afight, and tousehismartial-
arts skills only indefense. Now, atlast, hesaw his
chance totest hisaikido abilities inreal life, inwhat was
clearly alegitimate opportunity. So,asalltheother pas-
sengers satfrozen intheir seats, Terry stood up,slowly
and with deliberation.247/661

Seeing him, thedrunk roared, "Aha! Aforeigner! You
need alesson inJapanese manners!" and began gather-
ing himself to take on Terry.
But just asthedrunk was ontheverge ofmaking his
move, someone gave anearsplitting, oddly joyous shout:
"Hey!"
The shout had the cheery tone ofsomeone who has
suddenly come upon afond friend. The drunk, sur-
prised, spun around toseeatiny Japanese man, prob-
ably inhisseventies, sitting there inakimono. The old
man beamed with delight atthe drunk, and beckoned
him over with alight wave ofhishand and alilting
"C'mere."
The drunk strode over with abelligerent, "Why the
hell should Italk toyou?" Meanwhile, Terry was ready
tofellthedrunk inamoment ifhemade theleast viol-
ent move.
"What'cha been drinking?" the old man asked, his
eyes beaming at the drunken laborer.
"Ibeen drinking sake, and it'snone ofyour business,"
the drunk bellowed.
"Oh, that's wonderful, absolutely wonderful," theold
man replied inawarm tone. "You see, Ilove sake, too.
Every night, me and my wife (she's seventy-six, you
know), wewarm upalittle bottle ofsake and take itout
into thegarden, and wesitonanoldwooden bench …"248/661

Hecontinued onabout thepersimmon tree inhisback-
yard, the fortunes ofhisgarden, enjoying sake inthe
evening.
The drunk's face began tosoften ashelistened tothe
oldman; hisfists unclenched. "Yeah …Ilove persim-
mons, too. . . , " he said, his voice trailing off.
"Yes," the oldman replied inasprightly voice, "and
I'm sure you have a wonderful wife."
"No," said thelaborer. "My wife died. …"Sobbing, he
launched into asadtale oflosing hiswife, hishome, his
job, of being ashamed of himself.
Just then thetrain came toTerry's stop, and ashewas
getting offheturned tohear the old man invite the
drunk tojoin him and tellhim allabout it,and toseethe
drunk sprawl along theseat, hishead intheoldman's
lap.
That is emotional brilliance.249/661

PART THREE
EMOTIONAL
INTELLIGENCE APPLIED

9
Intimate Enemies
Tolove and towork, Sigmund Freud once remarked to
hisdisciple Erik Erikson, are the twin capacities that
mark fullmaturity. Ifthat isthecase, then maturity may
beanendangered way station inlife—and current
trends inmarriage and divorce make emotional intelli-
gence more crucial than ever.
Consider divorce rates. The rate per year ofdivorces
has more orless leveled off.But there isanother way of
calculating divorce rates, one that suggests aperilous
climb: looking atthe odds that agiven newly married
couple will have their marriage eventually end indi-
vorce. Although theoverall rate ofdivorce has stopped
climbing, the risk ofdivorce has been shifting to
newlyweds.
The shift gets clearer incomparing divorce rates for
couples wed inagiven year. For American marriages
that began in1890, about 10percent ended indivorce.
For those wed in1920, therate was about 18percent;
forcouples married in1950, 30percent. Couples that
were newly wed in1970 had afifty-fifty chance ofsplit-
ting uporstaying together. And formarried couples
starting out in1990, the likelihood that the marriage
would end indivorce was projected tobeclose toa

staggering 67percent!1Iftheestimate holds, just three
intenofrecent newlyweds cancount onstaying married
to their new partner.
Itcan beargued that much ofthis rise isdue not so
much toadecline inemotional intelligence astothe
steady erosion ofsocial pressures—the stigma surround-
ing divorce, orthe economic dependence ofwives on
their husbands—that used tokeep couples together in
even themost miserable ofmatches. But ifsocial pres-
sures arenolonger the glue that holds amarriage to-
gether, then theemotional forces between wife and hus-
band are that much more crucial iftheir union isto
survive.
These ties between husband and wife—and theemo-
tional fault lines that can break them apart—have been
assayed inrecent years with aprecision never seen be-
fore. Perhaps the biggest breakthrough inunderstand-
ingwhat holds amarriage together ortears itapart has
come from theuse ofsophisticated physiological meas-
ures that allow themoment-to-moment tracking ofthe
emotional nuances ofacouple's encounter. Scientists
arenow able todetect ahusband's otherwise invisible
adrenaline surges and jumps inblood pressure, and to
observe fleeting but telling microemotions asthey flit
across awife's face. These physiological measures reveal
ahidden biological subtext toacouple's difficulties, a252/661

critical level ofemotional reality that istypically imper-
ceptible toordisregarded bythe couple themselves.
These measures laybare theemotional forces that hold
arelationship together ordestroy it.The fault lines have
their earliest beginnings inthedifferences between the
emotional worlds of girls and boys.
HIS MARRIAGE AND HERS:
CHILDHOOD ROOTS
AsIwas entering arestaurant onarecent evening, a
young man stalked out thedoor, hisface setinanex-
pression both stony and sullen. Close onhis heels a
young woman came running, herfists desperately pum-
meling hisback while she yelled, "Goddamn you! Come
back here and benice tome!" That poignant, impossibly
self-contradictory plea aimed ataretreating back epi-
tomizes the pattern most commonly seen incouples
whose relationship isdistressed: She seeks toengage, he
withdraws. Marital therapists have long noted that by
thetime acouple finds their way tothetherapy office
they are inthis pattern ofengage-withdraw, with his
complaint about her "unreasonable" demands and out-
bursts, and herlamenting hisindifference towhat sheis
saying.
This marital endgame reflects thefact that there are,
ineffect, two emotional realities inacouple, hisand253/661

hers. The roots ofthese emotional differences, while
they may bepartly biological, also can betraced back to
childhood, and tothe separate emotional worlds boys
and girls inhabit while growing up. There isavast
amount ofresearch onthese separate worlds, their bar-
riers reinforced notjust bythedifferent games boys and
girls prefer, butbyyoung children's fear ofbeing teased
forhaving a"girlfriend" or"boyfriend."2One study of
children's friendships found that three-year-olds say
about half their friends areoftheopposite sex; forfive-
year-olds it'sabout 20percent, and byageseven almost
noboys orgirls saythey have abest friend oftheoppos-
itesex.3These separate social universes intersect little
until teenagers start dating.
Meanwhile, boys and girls are taught very different
lessons about handling emotions. Parents, ingeneral,
discuss emotions—with the exception ofanger—more
with their daughters than their sons.4Girls areexposed
tomore information about emotions than are boys:
when parents make upstories totell their preschool
children, they use more emotion words when talking to
daughters than tosons; when mothers play with their
infants, they display awider range ofemotions to
daughters than tosons; when mothers talk todaughters
about feelings, they discuss inmore detail theemotional
state itself than they dowith their sons—though with the254/661

sons they gointo more detail about thecauses and con-
sequences ofemotions like anger (probably asacaution-
ary tale).
Leslie Brody and Judith Hall, who have summarized
the research ondifferences inemotions between the
sexes, propose that because girls develop facility with
language more quickly than doboys, this leads them to
bemore experienced atarticulating their feelings and
more skilled than boys atusing words toexplore and
substitute for emotional reactions such asphysical
fights; incontrast, they note, "boys, forwhom theverb-
alization ofaffects isde-emphasized, may become
largely unconscious oftheir emotional states, both in
themselves and in others."5
Atage ten, roughly thesame percent ofgirls asboys
areovertly aggressive, given toopen confrontation when
angered. But by age thirteen, atelling difference
between the sexes emerges: Girls become more adept
than boys atartful aggressive tactics like ostracism, vi-
cious gossip, and indirect vendettas. Boys, byand large,
simply continue being confrontational when angered,
oblivious tothese more covert strategies.6This isjust
one ofmany ways that boys—and later, men—are less
sophisticated than the opposite sex inthe byways of
emotional life.255/661

When girls play together, they dosoinsmall, intimate
groups, with anemphasis onminimizing hostility and
maximizing cooperation, while boys' games areinlarger
groups, with anemphasis oncompetition. One key dif-
ference can beseen inwhat happens when games boys
orgirls are playing getdisrupted bysomeone getting
hurt. Ifaboy who has gotten hurt gets upset, heisex-
pected togetoutoftheway and stop crying sothegame
can goon.Ifthesame happens among agroup ofgirls
who areplaying, thegame stops while everyone gathers
around tohelp the girl who iscrying. This difference
between boys and girls atplay epitomizes what
Harvard's Carol Gilligan points toasakey disparity
between the sexes: boys take pride inalone, tough-
minded independence and autonomy, while girls see
themselves aspart ofaweb ofconnectedness. Thus boys
are threatened byanything that might challenge their
independence, while girls aremore threatened byarup-
ture intheir relationships. And, asDeborah Tannen has
pointed out inher book You just Don't Understand,
these differing perspectives mean that men and women
want and expect very different things outofaconversa-
tion, with men content totalk about "things," while wo-
men seek emotional connection.
Inshort, these contrasts inschooling intheemotions
foster very different skills, with girls becoming "adept at256/661

reading both verbal and nonverbal emotional signals, at
expressing and communicating their feelings," and boys
becoming adept at"minimizing emotions having todo
with vulnerability, guilt, fear and hurt".7Evidence for
these different stances isvery strong inthescientific lit-
erature. Hundreds ofstudies have found, forexample,
that onaverage women aremore empathic than men, at
least asmeasured bytheability toread someone else's
unstated feelings from facial expression, tone ofvoice,
and other nonverbal cues. Likewise, itisgenerally easier
toread feelings from awoman's face than aman's; while
there isnodifference infacial expressiveness among
very young boys and girls, asthey gothrough the
elementary-school grades boys become less expressive,
girls more so.This may partly reflect another keydiffer-
ence: women, onaverage, experience theentire range of
emotions with greater intensity and more volatility than
men—in this sense, women are more "emotional" than
men.8
Allofthis means that, ingeneral, women come into a
marriage groomed forthe role ofemotional manager,
while men arrive with much less appreciation oftheim-
portance ofthis task forhelping arelationship survive.
Indeed, the most important element forwomen—but
not formen—in satisfaction with their relationship re-
ported inastudy of264 couples was thesense that the257/661

couple has "good communication."9Ted Huston, apsy-
chologist atthe University ofTexas who has studied
couples indepth, observes, "For the wives, intimacy
means talking things over, especially talking about the
relationship itself. The men, byand large, don't under-
stand what thewives want from them. They say, 'Iwant
todothings with her, and allshe wants todoistalk.' "
During courtship, Huston found, men were much more
willing tospend time talking inways that suited the
wish forintimacy oftheir wives-to-be. But once married,
astime went onthemen—especially inmore traditional
couples—spent less and less time talking inthis way
with their wives, finding asense ofcloseness simply in
doing things like gardening together rather than talking
things over.
This growing silence onthepart ofhusbands may be
partly due tothefact that, ifanything, men areabitPol-
lyannaish about thestate oftheir marriage, while their
wives areattuned tothetrouble spots: inone study of
marriages, men had arosier view than their wives ofjust
about everything intheir relationship—lovemaking, fin-
ances, ties with in-laws, how well they listened toeach
other, how much their flaws mattered.10Wives, ingen-
eral, are more vocal about their complaints than are
their husbands, particularly among unhappy couples.
Combine men's rosy view ofmarriage with their258/661

aversion toemotional confrontations, and itisclear why
wives sooften complain that their husbands try to
wiggle outofdiscussing thetroubling things about their
relationship. (Ofcourse this gender difference isagen-
eralization, and isnot true inevery case; apsychiatrist
friend complained that inhismarriage hiswife isreluct-
anttodiscuss emotional matters between them, and he
is the one who is left to bring them up.)
The slowness ofmen tobring upproblems inarela-
tionship isnodoubt compounded bytheir relative lack
ofskill when itcomes toreading facial expressions of
emotions. Women, forexample, aremore sensitive toa
sad expression onaman's face than aremen indetect-
ingsadness from awoman's expression.11Thus awoman
has tobeallthesadder foraman tonotice herfeelings
inthefirst place, letalone forhim toraise thequestion
of what is making her so sad.
Consider the implications ofthis emotional gender
gap forhow couples handle thegrievances and disagree-
ments that any intimate relationship inevitably spawns.
Infact, specific issues such ashow often acouple has
sex, how todiscipline the children, orhow much debt
and savings acouple feels comfortable with arenotwhat
make orbreak amarriage. Rather, itishow acouple dis-
cusses such sore points that matters more forthefate of
their marriage. Simply having reached anagreement259/661

about how todisagree iskey tomarital survival; men
and women have toovercome theinnate gender differ-
ences inapproaching rocky emotions. Failing this,
couples arevulnerable toemotional rifts that eventually
can tear their relationship apart. Asweshall see, these
rifts arefarmore likely todevelop ifone orboth part-
ners have certain deficits in emotional intelligence.
MARITAL FAULT LINES
Fred: Did you pick up my dry cleaning?
Ingrid: (Inamocking tone) "Did you pick upmydry
cleaning." Pick upyour own damn dry cleaning.
What am I, your maid?
Fred: Hardly. Ifyou were amaid, atleast you'd
know how to clean.
Ifthis were dialogue from asitcom, itmight beamus-
ing. But this painfully caustic interchange was between a
couple who (perhaps not surprisingly) divorced within
the next few years.12Their encounter took place ina
laboratory run byJohn Gottman, aUniversity ofWash-
ington psychologist who has done perhaps themost de-
tailed analysis ever ofthe emotional glue that binds
couples together and thecorrosive feelings that can des-
troy marriages.13Inhislaboratory, couples' conversa-
tions are videotaped and then subjected tohours of260/661

microanalysis designed toreveal thesubterranean emo-
tional currents atplay. This mapping ofthefault lines
that may lead acouple todivorce makes aconvincing
case forthecrucial role ofemotional intelligence inthe
survival of a marriage.
During thelast two decades Gottman has tracked the
ups and downs ofmore than two hundred couples, some
just newlyweds, others married fordecades. Gottman
hascharted theemotional ecology ofmarriage with such
precision that, in one study, he was able to predict which
couples seen inhislab(like Fred and Ingrid, whose dis-
cussion ofgetting thedrycleaning was soacrimonious)
would divorce within three years with 94percent accur-
acy, a precision unheard of in marital studies!
The power ofGottman's analysis comes from his
painstaking method and thethoroughness ofhisprobes.
While thecouples talk, sensors record theslightest flux
intheir physiology; asecond-by-second analysis oftheir
facial expressions (using the system forreading emo-
tions developed byPaul Ekman) detects themost fleet-
ing and subtle nuance offeeling. After their session,
each partner comes separately tothelaband watches a
videotape ofthe conversation, and narrates hisorher
secret thoughts during the heated moments ofthe ex-
change. The result isakin toanemotional X-ray ofthe
marriage.261/661

Anearly warning signal that amarriage isindanger,
Gottman finds, isharsh criticism. Inahealthy marriage
husband and wife feel free tovoice acomplaint. But too
often intheheat ofanger complaints areexpressed ina
destructive fashion, asanattack onthespouse's charac-
ter. For example, Pamela and her daughter went shoe
shopping while herhusband, Tom, went toabookstore.
They agreed tomeet infront ofthe post office inan
hour, and then gotoamatinee. Pamela was prompt, but
there was nosign ofTom. "Where ishe? The movie
starts intenminutes," Pamela complained toherdaugh-
ter. "Ifthere's away foryour father toscrew something
up, he will."
When Tom showed uptenminutes later, happy about
having run into afriend and apologizing forbeing late,
Pamela lashed out with sarcasm: "That's okay—it gave
usachance todiscuss your amazing ability toscrew up
every single plan wemake. You're sothoughtless and
self-centered!"
Pamela's complaint ismore than that: itisacharacter
assassination, acritique oftheperson, not thedeed. In
fact, Tom had apologized. But for this lapse Pamela
brands him as"thoughtless and self-centered." Most
couples have moments like this from time totime,
where acomplaint about something apartner has done
isvoiced asanattack against theperson rather than the262/661

deed. But these harsh personal criticisms have afar
more corrosive emotional impact than do more
reasoned complaints. And such attacks, perhaps under-
standably, become more likely the more ahusband or
wife feels their complaints go unheard or ignored.
The differences between complaints and personal cri-
ticisms aresimple. Inacomplaint, awife states specific-
ally what isupsetting her, and criticizes her husband's
action, not her husband, saying how itmade her feel:
"When you forgot topick upmyclothes atthecleaner's
itmade mefeel like you don't care about me." Itisan
expression ofbasic emotional intelligence: assertive, not
belligerent orpassive. But inapersonal criticism she
uses thespecific grievance tolaunch aglobal attack on
her husband: "You're always soselfish and uncaring. It
just proves Ican't trust you todoanything right." This
kind ofcriticism leaves theperson onthereceiving end
feeling ashamed, disliked, blamed, and defective—all of
which are more likely tolead toadefensive response
than to steps to improve things.
Allthemore sowhen thecriticism comes laden with
contempt, aparticularly destructive emotion. Contempt
comes easily with anger; itisusually expressed notjust
inthe words used, but also inatone ofvoice and an
angry expression. Itsmost obvious form, ofcourse, is
mockery orinsult—"jerk," "bitch," "wimp." But just as263/661

hurtful isthebody language that conveys contempt, par-
ticularly thesneer orcurled lipthat aretheuniversal fa-
cial signals fordisgust, orarolling oftheeyes, asifto
say, "Oh, brother!"
Contempt's facial signature isacontraction ofthe
"dimpler," the muscle that pulls the corners ofthe
mouth tothe side (usually the left) while the eyes roll
upward. When one spouse flashes this expression, the
other, inatacit emotional exchange, registers ajump in
heart rate oftwo orthree beats perminute. This hidden
conversation takes itstoll; ifahusband shows contempt
regularly, Gottman found, hiswife will bemore prone to
arange ofhealth problems, from frequent colds and flus
tobladder and yeast infections, aswell asgastrointestin-
alsymptoms. And when awife's face shows disgust, a
near cousin ofcontempt, four ormore times within a
fifteen-minute conversation, itisasilent sign that the
couple is likely to separate within four years.
Ofcourse, anoccasional show ofcontempt ordisgust
will notundo amarriage. Rather, such emotional volleys
areakin tosmoking and high cholesterol asrisk factors
forheart disease—the more intense and prolonged, the
greater thedanger. Ontheroad todivorce, one ofthese
factors predicts the next, inanescalating scale of
misery. Habitual criticism and contempt ordisgust are
danger signs because they indicate that ahusband or264/661

wife has made asilent judgment forthe worse about
their partner. Inhisorher thoughts, thespouse isthe
subject ofconstant condemnation. Such negative and
hostile thinking leads naturally toattacks that make the
partner onthe receiving end defensive—or ready to
counterattack in return.
The two arms ofthefight-or-flight response each rep-
resent ways aspouse canrespond toanattack. The most
obvious istofight back, lashing outinanger. That route
typically ends inafruitless shouting match. But theal-
ternative response, fleeing, can bemore pernicious, par-
ticularly when the "flight" is a retreat into stony silence.
Stonewalling istheultimate defense. The stone waller
just goes blank, ineffect withdrawing from theconver-
sation byresponding with astony expression and si-
lence. Stonewalling sends apowerful, unnerving mes-
sage, something like acombination oficydistance, su-
periority, and distaste. Stonewalling showed upmainly
inmarriages that were heading fortrouble; in85per-
cent ofthese cases itwas thehusband who stonewalled
inresponse toawife who attacked with criticism and
contempt.14Asahabitual response stonewalling isdev-
astating tothehealth ofarelationship: itcuts offallpos-
sibility of working out disagreements.
TOXIC THOUGHTS265/661

The children arebeing rambunctious, and Martin, their
father, isgetting annoyed. Heturns tohiswife, Melanie,
and says inasharp tone, "Dear, don't you think thekids
could quiet down?"
His actual thought: "She's too easy on the kids."
Melanie, responding tohisire,feels asurge ofanger.
Her face grows taut, herbrows knit inafrown, and she
replies, "The kids are having agood time. Anyhow,
they'll be going up to bed soon."
Her thought: "There hegoes again, complaining all
the time."
Martin now isvisibly enraged. Heleans forward men-
acingly, his fists clenched, ashesays inanannoyed
tone, "Should I put them to bed now?"
Histhought: "She opposes meineverything. I'dbetter
take over."
Melanie, suddenly frightened byMartin's wrath, says
meekly, "No, I'll put them to bed right away."
Her thought: "He's getting out ofcontrol—he could
hurt the kids. I'd better give in."
These parallel conversations—the spoken and thesi-
lent—are reported byAaron Beck, thefounder ofcognit-
ivetherapy, asanexample ofthekinds ofthinking that
can poison amarriage.15The real emotional exchange
between Melanie and Martin isshaped by their
thoughts, and those thoughts, inturn, are determined266/661

byanother, deeper layer, which Beck calls "automatic
thoughts"—fleeting, background assumptions about
oneself and thepeople inone's lifethat reflect ourdeep-
estemotional attitudes. For Melanie the background
thought issomething like, "He's always bullying mewith
hisanger." For Martin, thekey thought is,"She has no
right totreat melike this." Melanie feels like aninno-
cent victim intheir marriage, and Martin feels righteous
indignation at what he feels is unjust treatment.
Thoughts ofbeing aninnocent victim orofrighteous
indignation are typical ofpartners introubled mar-
riages, continually fueling anger and hurt.16Once dis-
tressing thoughts such asrighteous indignation become
automatic, they are self-confirming: the partner who
feels victimized isconstantly scanning everything his
partner does that might confirm theview that sheisvic-
timizing him, ignoring ordiscounting any acts ofkind-
ness onherpart that would question ordisconfirm that
view.
These thoughts are powerful; they trip the neural
alarm system. Once thehusband's thought ofbeing vic-
timized triggers anemotional hijacking, hewill forthe
time being easily call tomind and ruminate onalistof
grievances that remind him oftheways she victimizes
him, while notrecalling anything she may have done in
their entire relationship that would disconfirm theview267/661

that heisaninnocent victim. Itputs hisspouse inano-
win situation: even things shedoes that areintentionally
kind can bereinterpreted when viewed through such a
negative lens and dismissed asfeeble attempts todeny
she is a victimizes
Partners who arefree ofsuch distress-triggering views
can entertain amore benign interpretation ofwhat is
going oninthesame situations, and soareless likely to
have such ahijacking, orifthey do,tend torecover from
itmore readily. The general template forthoughts that
maintain oralleviate distress follows the pattern out-
lined inChapter 6bypsychologist Martin Seligman for
pessimistic and optimistic outlooks. The pessimistic
view isthat the partner isinherently flawed inaway
that cannot change and that guarantees misery: "He's
selfish and self-absorbed; that's theway hewas brought
upand that's theway hewill always be;heexpects meto
wait onhim hand and foot and hecouldn't care less
about how Ifeel." The contrasting optimistic view would
besomething like: "He's being demanding now, buthe's
been thoughtful inthe past; maybe he's inabad
mood—I wonder ifsomething's bothering him about his
work." This isaview that does notwrite offthehusband
(orthe marriage) asirredeemably damaged and hope-
less. Instead itsees abad moment as due to268/661

circumstances that can change. The first attitude brings
continual distress; the second soothes.
Partners who take the pessimistic stance are ex-
tremely prone toemotional hijackings; they getangry,
hurt, orotherwise distressed bythings their spouses do,
and they stay disturbed once theepisode begins. Their
internal distress and pessimistic attitude, ofcourse,
makes itfarmore likely they will resort tocriticism and
contempt inconfronting the partner, which inturn
heightens the likelihood of defensiveness and
stonewalling.
Perhaps themost virulent ofsuch toxic thoughts are
found inhusbands who are physically violent totheir
wives. Astudy ofviolent husbands bypsychologists at
Indiana University found that these men think like
schoolyard bullies: they read hostile intent into even
neutral actions bytheir wives, and use this misreading
tojustify tothemselves their own violence (men who are
sexually aggressive with dates dosomething similar,
viewing thewomen with suspicion and sodisregarding
their objections).17Aswesaw inChapter 7,such men are
particularly threatened byperceived slights, rejection, or
public embarrassment bytheir wives. Atypical scenario
that triggers thoughts "justifying" violence inwife-bat-
terers: "You areatasocial gathering and you notice that
forthe past half hour your wife has been talking and269/661

laughing with thesame attractive man. Heseems tobe
flirting with her." When these men perceive their wives
asdoing something suggesting rejection orabandon-
ment, their reactions run toindignation and outrage.
Presumably, automatic thoughts like "She's going to
leave me" are triggers for anemotional hijacking in
which battering husbands respond impulsively, asthe
researchers put it,with "incompetent behavioral re-
sponses"—they become violent.18
FLOODING: THE SWAMPING OF A
MARRIAGE
The neteffect ofthese distressing attitudes istocreate
incessant crisis, since they trigger emotional hijackings
more often and make itharder torecover from theres-
ulting hurt and rage. Gottman uses theaptterm flood-
ingforthis susceptibility tofrequent emotional distress;
flooded husbands orwives aresooverwhelmed bytheir
partner's negativity and their own reaction toitthat
they are swamped bydreadful, out-of-control feelings.
People who areflooded cannot hear without distortion
orrespond with clear-headedness; they find ithard to
organize their thinking, and they tallback onprimitive
reactions. They just want things tostop, orwant torun
or,sometimes, tostrike back. Flooding isaself-perpetu-
ating emotional hijacking.270/661

Some people have high thresholds forflooding, easily
enduring anger and contempt, while others may be
triggered themoment their spouse makes amild criti-
cism. The technical description offlooding isinterms of
heart rate rise from calm levels.19Atrest, women's heart
rates areabout 82beats perminute, men's about 72(the
specific heart rate varies mainly according toaperson's
body size). Flooding begins atabout 10beats perminute
above aperson's resting rate; ifthe heart rate reaches
100 beats per minute (asiteasily can doduring mo-
ments ofrage ortears), then thebody ispumping adren-
aline and other hormones that keep thedistress high for
some time. The moment ofemotional hijacking isap-
parent from theheart rate: itcanjump 10,20,oreven as
many as30beats perminute within thespace ofasingle
heartbeat. Muscles tense; itcan seem hard tobreathe.
There isaswamp oftoxic feelings, anunpleasant wash
offear and anger that seems inescapable and, subject-
ively, takes "forever" togetover. Atthis point—full hi-
jacking—a person's emotions aresointense, their per-
spective sonarrow, and their thinking soconfused that
there isnohope oftaking theother's viewpoint orset-
tling things in a reasonable way.
Ofcourse, most husbands and wives have such in-
tense moments from time totime when they fight—it's
only natural. The problem foramarriage begins when271/661

one oranother spouse feels flooded almost continually.
Then thepartner feels overwhelmed bytheother part-
ner, isalways onguard foranemotional assault orin-
justice, becomes hypervigilant forany sign ofattack, in-
sult, orgrievance, and issure tooverreact toeven the
least sign. Ifahusband isinsuch astate, hiswife saying,
"Honey, we've got totalk," can elicit the reactive
thought, "She's picking afight again," and sotrigger
flooding. Itbecomes harder and harder torecover from
thephysiological arousal, which inturn makes iteasier
forinnocuous exchanges tobeseen inasinister light,
triggering flooding all over again.
This isperhaps themost dangerous turning point for
marriage, acatastrophic shift inthe relationship. The
flooded partner has come tothink the worst ofthe
spouse virtually allthe time, reading everything she
does inanegative light. Small issues become major
battles; feelings are hurt continually. With time, the
partner who isbeing flooded starts tosee any and all
problems inthe marriage assevere and impossible to
fix, since the flooding itself sabotages any attempt to
work things out. Asthis continues itbegins toseem use-
less totalk things over, and thepartners trytosoothe
their troubled feelings ontheir own. They start leading
parallel lives, essentially living inisolation from each272/661

other, and feel alone within themarriage. Alltoooften,
Gottman finds, the next step is divorce.
Inthis trajectory toward divorce the tragic con-
sequences ofdeficits inemotional competences areself-
evident. Asacouple gets caught inthe reverberating
cycle ofcriticism and contempt, defensiveness and
stonewalling, distressing thoughts and emotional flood-
ing, thecycle itself reflects adisintegration ofemotional
self-awareness and self-control, ofempathy and the
abilities to soothe each other and oneself.
MEN: THE VULNERABLE SEX
Back togender differences inemotional life, which
prove tobeahidden spur tomarital meltdowns. Con-
sider this finding: Even after thirty-five ormore years of
marriage, there isabasic distinction between husbands
and wives inhow they regard emotional encounters.
Women, onaverage, donotmind plunging into theun-
pleasantness ofamarital squabble nearly somuch asdo
the men intheir lives. That conclusion, reached ina
study byRobert Levenson attheUniversity ofCalifornia
atBerkeley, isbased onthetestimony of151couples, all
inlong-lasting marriages. Levenson found that hus-
bands uniformly found itunpleasant, even aversive, to
become upset during amarital disagreement, while their
wives did not mind it much.20273/661

Husbands areprone toflooding atalower intensity of
negativity than aretheir wives; more men than women
react totheir spouse's criticism with flooding. Once
flooded, husbands secrete more adrenaline into their
bloodstream, and the adrenaline flow istriggered by
lower levels ofnegativity ontheir wife's part; ittakes
husbands longer torecover physiologically from flood-
ing.21This suggests the possibility that the stoic, Clint
Eastwood type ofmale imperturbability may represent a
defense against feeling emotionally overwhelmed.
The reason men are solikely tostonewall, Gottman
proposes, istoprotect themselves from flooding; hisre-
search showed that once they began stonewalling, their
heart rates dropped byabout ten beats per minute,
bringing asubjective sense ofrelief. But—and here's a
paradox—once themen started stonewalling, itwas the
wives whose heart rate shot uptolevels signaling high
distress. This limbic tango, with each sexseeking com-
fort inopposing gambits, leads toavery different stance
toward emotional confrontations: men want toavoid
them asfervently astheir wives feel compelled toseek
them.
Just asmen arefarmore likely tobestonewallers, so
thewomen aremore likely tocriticize their husbands.22
This asymmetry arises asaresult ofwives pursuing their
role asemotional managers. Asthey trytobring upand274/661

resolve disagreements and grievances, their husbands
aremore reluctant toengage inwhat arebound tobe
heated discussions. Asthewife sees her husband with-
draw from engagement, sheups thevolume and intens-
ityofher complaint, starting tocriticize him. Ashebe-
comes defensive orstonewalls inreturn, she feels frus-
trated and angry, and soadds contempt tounderscore
the strength ofher frustration. Asher husband finds
himself theobject ofhiswife's criticism and contempt,
hebegins tofallinto theinnocent-victim orrighteous-
indignation thoughts that more and more easily trigger
flooding. Toprotect himself from flooding, hebecomes
more and more defensive orsimply stonewalls altogeth-
er.But when husbands stonewall, remember, ittriggers
flooding intheir wives, who feel completely stymied.
And asthecycle ofmarital fights escalates italltooeas-
ily can spin out of control.
HIS AND HERS: MARITAL ADVICE
Given thegrim potential outcome ofthedifferences in
how men and women deal with distressing feelings in
their relationship, what can couples dotoprotect the
love and affection they feel foreach other—in short,
what protects amarriage? Onthebasis ofwatching in-
teraction inthe couples whose marriages have contin-
ued tothrive over the years, marital researchers offer275/661

specific advice formen and forwomen, and some gener-
al words for both.
Men and women, ingeneral, need different emotional
fine-tuning. For men, theadvice isnot tosidestep con-
flict, but torealize that when their wife brings upsome
grievance ordisagreement, shemay bedoing itasanact
oflove, trying tokeep the relationship healthy and on
course (although there may well beother motives fora
wife's hostility). When grievances simmer, they build
and build inintensity until there's anexplosion; when
they areaired and worked out, ittakes thepressure off.
But husbands need torealize that anger ordiscontent is
notsynonymous with personal attack—their wives' emo-
tions are often simply underliners, emphasizing the
strength of her feelings about the matter.
Men also need tobeonguard against short-circuiting
thediscussion byoffering apractical solution tooearly
on—it's typically more important toawife that she feel
her husband hears her complaint and empathizes with
herfeelings about thematter (though heneed notagree
with her). She may hear hisoffering advice asaway of
dismissing her feelings asinconsequential. Husbands
who areable tostay with their wives through theheat of
anger, rather than dismissing their complaints aspetty,
help their wives feel heard and respected. Most espe-
cially, wives want tohave their feelings acknowledged276/661

and respected asvalid, even iftheir husbands disagree.
More often than not, when awife feels herview isheard
and her feelings registered, she calms down.
Asforwomen, theadvice isquite parallel. Since ama-
jorproblem formen isthat their wives aretoointense in
voicing complaints, wives need tomake apurposeful ef-
fort tobecareful nottoattack their husbands—to com-
plain about what they did, but not criticize them asa
person orexpress contempt. Complaints arenotattacks
oncharacter, butrather aclear statement that aparticu-
laraction isdistressing. Anangry personal attack will al-
most certainly lead toahusband's getting defensive or
stonewalling, which will beallthemore frustrating, and
only escalate the fight. Ithelps, too, ifawife's com-
plaints are put inthe larger context ofreassuring her
husband of her love for him.
THE GOOD FIGHT
The morning paper offers anobject lesson inhow notto
resolve differences inamarriage. Marlene Lenick had a
dispute with herhusband, Michael: hewanted towatch
the Dallas Cowboys-Philadelphia Eagles game, she
wanted towatch thenews. Ashesettled down towatch
the game, Mrs. Lenick told him that she had "had
enough ofthat football," went into thebedroom tofetch
a.38 caliber handgun, and shot him twice ashesat277/661

watching thegame intheden. Mrs. Lenick was charged
with aggravated assault and freed ona$50,000 bond;
Mr. Lenick was listed ingood condition, recovering from
the bullets that grazed his abdomen and tunneled
through his left shoulder blade and neck.23
While few marital fights are that violent—or that
costiy—they offer aprime chance tobring emotional in-
telligence tomarriage. For example, couples inmar-
riages that last tend tostick toone topic, and togive
each partner thechance tostate their point ofview at
the outset.24But these couples goone important step
further: they show each other that they are being
listened to.Since feeling heard isoften exactly what the
aggrieved partner really isafter, emotionally anactof
empathy is a masterly tension reducer.
Most notably missing incouples who eventually di-
vorce areattempts byeither partner inanargument to
de-escalate thetension. The presence orabsence ofways
torepair ariftisacrucial difference between thefights
ofcouples who have ahealthy marriage and those of
couples who eventually end updivorcing.25The repair
mechanisms that keep anargument from escalating into
adire explosion aresimple moves such askeeping the
discussion ontrack, empathizing, and tension reduc-
tion. These basic moves arelike anemotional thermo-
stat, preventing the feelings being expressed from278/661

boiling over and overwhelming the partners' ability to
focus on the issue at hand.
One overall strategy formaking amarriage work is
not toconcentrate onthespecific issues—childrearing,
sex, money, housework—that couples fight about, but
rather tocultivate acouple's shared emotional intelli-
gence, thereby improving thechances ofworking things
out. Ahandful ofemotional competences—mainly being
able tocalm down (and calm your partner), empathy,
and listening well—can make itmore likely acouple will
settle their disagreements effectively. These make pos-
sible healthy disagreements, the"good fights" that allow
amarriage toflourish and which overcome thenegativ-
ities that, if left to grow, can destroy a marriage.26
Ofcourse, none ofthese emotional habits changes
overnight; ittakes persistence and vigilance atthevery
least. Couples will beable tomake thekey changes in
direct proportion tohow motivated they are totry.
Many ormost emotional responses triggered soeasily in
marriage have been sculpted since childhood, first
learned inour most intimate relationships ormodeled
forusbyourparents, and then brought tomarriage fully
formed. And soweare primed forcertain emotional
habits—overreacting toperceived slights, say, orshut-
ting down atthe first sign ofaconfrontation—even279/661

though wemay have sworn that wewould not actlike
our parents.
Calming Down
Every strong emotion has atitsroot animpulse toac-
tion; managing those impulses isbasic toemotional in-
telligence. This can beparticularly difficult, though, in
love relationships, where wehave somuch atstake. The
reactions triggered here touch onsome ofour deepest
needs—to beloved and feel respected, fears ofabandon-
ment orofbeing emotionally deprived. Small wonder
wecan actinamarital fight asthough our very survival
were at stake.
Even so,nothing gets resolved positively when hus-
band orwife isinthemidst ofanemotional hijacking.
One key marital competence isforpartners tolearn to
soothe their own distressed feelings. Essentially, this
means mastering theability torecover quickly from the
flooding caused byanemotional hijacking. Because the
ability tohear, think, and speak with clarity dissolves
during such anemotional peak, calming down isanim-
mensely constructive step, without which there can be
no further progress in settling what's at issue.
Ambitious couples can learn tomonitor their pulse
rates every five minutes orsoduring atroubling en-
counter, feeling the pulse atthe carotid artery afew280/661

inches below the earlobe and jaw (people who doaer-
obic workouts learn todothis easily).27Counting the
pulse forfifteen seconds and multiplying byfour gives
thepulse rate inbeats perminute. Doing sowhile feel-
ing calm gives abaseline; ifthe pulse rate rises more
than, say, tenbeats per minute above that level, itsig-
nals thebeginning offlooding. Ifthepulse climbs this
much, acouple needs atwenty-minute break from each
other tocool down before resuming thediscussion. Al-
though afive-minute break may feel long enough, the
actual physiological recovery time ismore gradual. As
wesaw inChapter 5,residual anger triggers more anger;
thelonger wait gives thebody more time torecover from
the earlier arousal.
For couples who, understandably, find itawkward to
monitor heart rate during afight, itissimpler tohave a
prestated agreement that allows one oranother partner
tocallthetime-out atthefirst signs offlooding ineither
partner. During that time-out period, cooling down can
behelped along byengaging inarelaxation technique or
aerobic exercise (orany ofthe other methods weex-
plored inChapter 5)that might help thepartners recov-
er from the emotional hijacking.
Detoxifying Self-talk281/661

Because flooding istriggered bynegative thoughts about
thepartner, ithelps ifahusband orwife who isbeing
upset bysuch harsh judgments tackles them head-on.
Sentiments like "I'm notgoing totake this anymore" or
"Idon't deserve this kind oftreatment" areinnocent-vic-
tim orrighteous-indignation slogans. Ascognitive ther-
apist Aaron Beck points out, bycatching these thoughts
and challenging them—rather than simply being en-
raged orhurt bythem—a husband orwife can begin to
become free of their hold.28
This requires monitoring such thoughts, realizing that
one does not have tobelieve them, and making thein-
tentional effort tobring tomind evidence orperspect-
ives that putthem inquestion. For example, awife who
feels inthe heat ofthe moment that "he doesn't care
about myneeds—he's always soselfish" might challenge
thethought byreminding herself ofanumber ofthings
herhusband has done that are, infact, thoughtful. This
allows her toreframe the thought as:"Well, hedoes
show hecares about mesometimes, even though what
hejust did was thoughtless and upsetting tome." The
latter formulation opens thepossibility ofchange and a
positive resolution; theformer only foments anger and
hurt.
Nondefensive Listening and Speaking282/661

He: "You're shouting!"
She: "Of course I'm shouting—you haven't heard a
word I'm saying. You just don't listen!"
Listening isaskill that keeps couples together. Even
inthe heat ofanargument, when both are seized by
emotional hijackings, one ortheother, and sometimes
both, can manage tolisten past theanger, and hear and
respond toapartner's reparative gesture. Couples
headed fordivorce, though, getabsorbed inthe anger
and fixated onthe specifics ofthe issue athand, not
managing tohear—let alone return—any peace offerings
that might beimplicit inwhat their partner issaying.
Defensiveness inalistener takes theform ofignoring or
immediately rebutting thespouse's complaint, reacting
toitasthough itwere anattack rather than anattempt
tochange behavior. Ofcourse, inanargument what one
spouse says isoften intheform ofanattack, orissaid
with such strong negativity that itishard tohear any-
thing other than an attack.
Even inthe worst case, it'spossible foracouple to
purposely edit what they hear, ignoring thehostile and
negative parts oftheexchange—the nasty tone, thein-
sult, thecontemptuous criticism—to hear themain mes-
sage. For this feat ithelps ifpartners can remember to
see each other's negativity asanimplicit statement of
how important the issue istothem—a demand for283/661

attention tobepaid. Then ifsheyells, "Will you stop in-
terrupting me, forcrissake!" hemight bemore able to
say, without reacting overtly toher hostility, "Okay, go
ahead and finish."
The most powerful form ofnondefensive listening, of
course, isempathy: actually hearing thefeelings behind
what isbeing said. Aswesaw inChapter 7,forone part-
ner inacouple totruly empathize with the other de-
mands that hisown emotional reactions calm down to
the point where heisreceptive enough for his own
physiology tobeable tomirror thefeelings ofhispart-
ner. Without this physiological attunement, apartner's
sense ofwhat theother isfeeling islikely tobeentirely
offbase. Empathy deteriorates when one's own feelings
aresostrong that they allow nophysiological harmoniz-
ing, but simply override everything else.
One method foreffective emotional listening, called
"mirroring," iscommonly used inmarital therapy.
When one partner makes acomplaint, theother repeats
itback inher own words, trying tocapture not just the
thought, butalso thefeelings that gowith it.The partner
mirroring checks with theother tobesure therestate-
ment isontarget, and ifnot, tries again until itis
right—something that seems simple, but issurprisingly
tricky inexecution.29The effect ofbeing mirrored accur-
ately isnot just feeling understood, but having the284/661

added sense ofbeing inemotional attunement. That in
itself can sometimes disarm animminent attack, and
goes fartoward keeping discussions ofgrievances from
escalating into fights.
The artofnondefensive speaking forcouples centers
around keeping what issaid toaspecific complaint
rather than escalating toapersonal attack. Psychologist
Haim Ginott, the grandfather ofeffective-communica-
tion programs, recommended that thebest formula fora
complaint is"XYZ": "When you didX,itmade mefeel Y,
and I'drather you didZinstead." For example: "When
you didn't call totellmeyou were going tobelate for
ourdinner appointment, Ifeltunappreciated and angry.
Iwish you'd calltoletmeknow you'll belate" instead of
"You're athoughtless, self-centered bastard," which is
how theissue isalltoo often put incouples' fights. In
short, open communication has nobullying, threats, or
insults. Nor does itallow forany ofthe innumerable
forms ofdefensiveness—excuses, denying responsibility,
counterattacking with acriticism, and the like. Here
again empathy is a potent tool.
Finally, respect and love disarm hostility inmarriage,
aselsewhere inlife. One powerful way tode-escalate a
fight istoletyour partner know that you can seethings
from theother perspective, and that this point ofview
may have validity, even ifyou donot agree with it285/661

yourself. Another istotake responsibility oreven apolo-
gize ifyou seeyou areinthewrong. Ataminimum, val-
idation means atleast conveying that you arelistening,
and can acknowledge the emotions being expressed,
even ifyou can't goalong with the argument: "Isee
you're upset." And atother times, when there isnofight
going on, validation takes the form ofcompliments,
finding something you genuinely appreciate and voicing
some praise. Validation, ofcourse, isaway tohelp
soothe your spouse, ortobuild upemotional capital in
the form of positive feelings.
Practicing
Because these maneuvers aretobecalled upon during
the heat ofconfrontation, when emotional arousal is
sure tobehigh, they have tobeoverlearned ifthey areto
beaccessible when needed most. This isbecause the
emotional brain engages those response routines that
were learned earliest inlifeduring repeated moments of
anger and hurt, and sobecome dominant. Memory and
response being emotion-specific, insuch moments reac-
tions associated with calmer times areless easy tore-
member and acton.Ifamore productive emotional re-
sponse isunfamiliar ornotwell practiced, itisextremely
difficult totryitwhile upset. But ifaresponse isprac-
ticed sothat ithas become automatic, ithas abetter286/661

chance offinding expression during emotional crisis.
For these reasons, theabove strategies need tobetried
outand rehearsed during encounters that arenotstress-
ful,aswell asintheheat ofbattle, ifthey aretohave a
chance tobecome anacquired first response (oratleast
anot-too-belated second response) intherepertoire of
the emotional circuitry. Inessence, these antidotes to
marital disintegration areasmall remedial education in
emotional intelligence.287/661

10
Managing with Heart
Melburn McBroom was adomineering boss, with atem-
per that intimidated those who worked with him. That
fact might have passed unremarked had McBroom
worked inanoffice orfactory. But McBroom was anair-
line pilot.
One day in1978 McBroom's plane was approaching
Portland, Oregon, when henoticed aproblem with the
landing gear. SoMcBroom went into aholding pattern,
circling thefield atahigh altitude while hefiddled with
the mechanism.
AsMcBroom obsessed about the landing gear, the
plane's fuel gauges steadily approached theempty level.
But hiscopilots were sofearful ofMcBroom's wrath that
they said nothing, even asdisaster loomed. The plane
crashed, killing ten people.
Today the story ofthat crash istold asacautionary
tale inthesafety training ofairline pilots.1In80percent
ofairline crashes, pilots make mistakes that could have
been prevented, particularly ifthecrew worked together
more harmoniously. Teamwork, open lines ofcommu-
nication, cooperation, listening, and speaking one's
mind—rudiments of social intelligence—are now

emphasized intraining pilots, along with technical
prowess.
The cockpit isamicrocosm ofany working organiza-
tion. But lacking the dramatic reality check ofanair-
plane crash, thedestructive effects ofmiserable morale,
intimidated workers, orarrogant bosses—or any ofthe
dozens ofother permutations ofemotional deficiencies
intheworkplace—can golargely unnoticed bythose out-
side theimmediate scene. But thecosts can beread in
signs such asdecreased productivity, anincrease in
missed deadlines, mistakes and mishaps, and anexodus
ofemployees tomore congenial settings. There is,inev-
itably, acost tothebottom line from low levels ofemo-
tional intelligence onthejob. When itisrampant, com-
panies can crash and burn.
The cost-effectiveness ofemotional intelligence isa
relatively new idea forbusiness, one some managers
may find hard toaccept. Astudy of250 executives found
that most felttheir work demanded "their heads butnot
their hearts." Many said they feared that feeling em-
pathy orcompassion forthose they worked with would
putthem inconflict with their organizational goals. One
felttheidea ofsensing thefeelings ofthose who worked
forhim was absurd—it would, hesaid, "beimpossible to
deal with people." Others protested that ifthey were not
emotionally aloof they would beunable tomake the289/661

"hard" decisions that business requires—although the
likelihood isthat they would deliver those decisions
more humanely.2
That study was done inthe1970s, when thebusiness
environment was very different. My argument isthat
such attitudes areoutmoded, aluxury ofaformer day; a
new competitive reality isputting emotional intelligence
atapremium intheworkplace and inthemarketplace.
AsShoshona Zuboff, apsychologist atHarvard Business
School, pointed out tome, "corporations have gone
through aradical revolution within this century, and
with this has come acorresponding transformation of
theemotional landscape. There was along period ofma-
nagerial domination ofthe corporate hierarchy when
themanipulative, jungle-fighter boss was rewarded. But
that rigid hierarchy started breaking down inthe1980s
under thetwin pressures ofglobalization and informa-
tion technology. The jungle fighter symbolizes where the
corporation has been; the virtuoso ininterpersonal
skills is the corporate future."3
Some ofthe reasons are patently obvious—imagine
theconsequences foraworking group when someone is
unable tokeep from exploding inanger orhasnosensit-
ivity about what thepeople around him arefeeling. All
thedeleterious effects ofagitation onthinking reviewed
inChapter 6operate inthe workplace too: When290/661

emotionally upset, people cannot remember, attend,
learn, ormake decisions clearly. Asone management
consultant put it, "Stress makes people stupid."
Onthepositive side, imagine thebenefits forwork of
being skilled inthebasic emotional competences—being
attuned tothefeelings ofthose wedeal with, being able
tohandle disagreements sothey donotescalate, having
theability togetinto flow states while doing our work.
Leadership isnotdomination, buttheartofpersuading
people towork toward acommon goal. And, interms of
managing our own career, there may benothing more
essential than recognizing our deepest feelings about
what wedo—and what changes might make usmore
truly satisfied with our work.
Some oftheless obvious reasons emotional aptitudes
are moving tothe forefront ofbusiness skills reflect
sweeping changes inthe workplace. Let me make my
point bytracking the difference three applications of
emotional intelligence make: being able toairgriev-
ances ashelpful critiques, creating anatmosphere in
which diversity isvalued rather than asource offriction,
and networking effectively.
CRITICISM IS JOB ONE
Hewas aseasoned engineer, heading asoftware de-
velopment project, presenting theresult ofmonths291/661

ofwork byhisteam tothecompany's vice president
forproduct development. The men and women who
had worked long days week after week were there
with him, proud topresent the fruit oftheir hard
labor. But astheengineer finished hispresentation,
the vice president turned tohim and asked sar-
castically, "How long have you been outofgraduate
school? These specifications are ridiculous. They
have no chance of getting past my desk."
The engineer, utterly embarrassed and deflated,
satglumly through therest ofthemeeting, reduced
tosilence. The men and women onhisteam made a
few desultory—and some hostile—remarks inde-
fense oftheir effort. The vice president was then
called away and the meeting broke upabruptly,
leaving a residue of bitterness and anger.
Forthenext two weeks theengineer was obsessed
bythevice president's remarks. Dispirited and de-
pressed, hewas convinced hewould never getan-
other assignment ofimportance atthe company,
and was thinking ofleaving, even though heen-
joyed his work there.
Finally theengineer went toseethevice presid-
ent, reminding him ofthemeeting, hiscritical re-
marks, and their demoralizing effect. Then hemade
acarefully worded inquiry: "I'm alittle confused by292/661

what you were trying toaccomplish. Iassume you
were notjust trying toembarrass me—did you have
some other goal in mind?"
The vice president was astonished—he had no
idea that his remark, which he meant asa
throwaway line, had been sodevastating. Infact, he
thought the software plan was promising, but
needed more work—he hadn't meant todismiss it
asutterly worthless atall.Hesimply had not real-
ized, hesaid, how poorly hehad put hisreaction,
nor that hehad hurt anyone's feelings. And, be-
latedly, he apologized.4
It'saquestion offeedback, really, ofpeople getting the
information essential tokeep their efforts ontrack. In
itsoriginal sense insystems theory, feedback meant the
exchange ofdata about how one part ofasystem is
working, with theunderstanding that one part affects all
others inthesystem, sothat any part heading offcourse
could bechanged forthebetter. Inacompany everyone
ispart ofthesystem, and sofeedback isthelifeblood of
theorganization—the exchange ofinformation that lets
people know ifthe jobthey aredoing isgoing well or
needs tobefine-tuned, upgraded, orredirected entirely.
Without feedback people areinthedark; they have no
idea how they stand with their boss, with their peers, or293/661

interms ofwhat isexpected ofthem, and any problems
will only get worse as time passes.
Inasense, criticism isone ofthemost important tasks
amanager has. Yetit'salso one ofthemost dreaded and
put off.And, like thesarcastic vice president, toomany
managers have poorly mastered thecrucial artoffeed-
back. This deficiency has agreat cost: just astheemo-
tional health ofacouple depends onhow well they air
their grievances, sodothe effectiveness, satisfaction,
and productivity ofpeople atwork depend onhow they
aretold about nagging problems. Indeed, how criticisms
aregiven and received goes along way indetermining
how satisfied people arewith their work, with those they
work with, and with those to whom they are responsible.
The Worst Way to Motivate Someone
The emotional vicissitudes atwork inmarriage also op-
erate inthe workplace, where they take similar forms.
Criticisms are voiced aspersonal attacks rather than
complaints that can beacted upon; there areadhom-
inem charges with dollops ofdisgust, sarcasm, and con-
tempt; both give rise todefensiveness and dodging ofre-
sponsibility and, finally, tostonewalling orthe em-
bittered passive resistance that comes from feeling un-
fairly treated. Indeed, one ofthemore common forms of
destructive criticism intheworkplace, says one business294/661

consultant, isablanket, generalized statement like
"You're screwing up," delivered inaharsh, sarcastic,
angry tone, providing neither achance torespond nor
any suggestion ofhow todothings better. Itleaves the
person receiving itfeeling helpless and angry. From the
vantage point ofemotional intelligence, such criticism
displays anignorance ofthe feelings itwill trigger in
those who receive it,and the devastating effect those
feelings will have ontheir motivation, energy, and con-
fidence in doing their work.
This destructive dynamic showed upinasurvey of
managers who were asked tothink back totimes they
blew upatemployees and, intheheat ofthemoment,
made apersonal attack.5The angry attacks had effects
much like they would inamarried couple: theemploy-
eeswho received them reacted most often bybecoming
defensive, making excuses, orevading responsibility. Or
they stonewalled—that is,tried toavoid allcontact with
themanager who blew upatthem. Ifthey had been sub-
jected tothe same emotional microscope that John
Gottman used with married couples, these embittered
employees would nodoubt have been shown tobe
thinking thethoughts ofinnocent victimhood orright-
eous indignation typical ofhusbands orwives who feel
unfairly attacked. Iftheir physiology were measured,
they would probably also display the flooding that295/661

reinforces such thoughts. And yetthe managers were
only further annoyed and provoked bythese responses,
suggesting thebeginning ofacycle that, inthebusiness
world, ends intheemployee quitting orbeing fired—the
business equivalent of a divorce.
Indeed, inastudy of108 managers and white-collar
workers, inept criticism was ahead ofmistrust, person-
ality struggles, and disputes over power and pay asa
reason forconflict onthejob.6Anexperiment done at
Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute shows just how dam-
aging toworking relationships acutting criticism canbe.
Inasimulation, volunteers were given thetask ofcreat-
inganadforanew shampoo. Another volunteer (acon-
federate) supposedly judged the proposed ads; volun-
teers actually received one oftwo prearranged criti-
cisms. One critique was considerate and specific. But the
other included threats and blamed the person's innate
deficiencies, with remarks like, "Didn't even try; can't
seem todoanything right" and "Maybe it'sjust lack of
talent. I'd try to get someone else to do it."
Understandably, those who were attacked became
tense and angry and antagonistic, saying they would re-
fuse tocollaborate orcooperate onfuture projects with
theperson who gave thecriticism. Many indicated they
would want toavoid contact altogether—in other words,
they felt like stonewalling. The harsh criticism made296/661

those who received itsodemoralized that they nolonger
tried ashard attheir work and, perhaps most damaging,
said they nolonger feltcapable ofdoing well. The per-
sonal attack was devastating to their morale.
Many managers aretoowilling tocriticize, but frugal
with praise, leaving their employees feeling that they
only hear about how they're doing when they make a
mistake. This propensity tocriticism iscompounded by
managers who delay giving any feedback atallforlong
periods. "Most problems inanemployee's performance
are not sudden; they develop slowly over time," J.R.
Larson, aUniversity ofIllinois atUrbana psychologist,
notes. "When theboss fails tolethisfeelings beknown
promptly, itleads tohisfrustration building upslowly.
Then, one day, heblows upabout it.Ifthecriticism had
been given earlier on, the employee would have been
able tocorrect the problem. Too often people criticize
only when things boil over, when they gettooangry to
contain themselves. And that's when they give thecriti-
cism intheworst way, inatone ofbiting sarcasm, call-
ing tomind along listofgrievances they had kept to
themselves, ormaking threats. Such attacks backfire.
They arereceived asanaffront, sotherecipient becomes
angry inreturn. It's the worst way tomotivate
someone."
The Artful Critique297/661

Consider the alternative.
Anartful critique can beone ofthemost helpful mes-
sages amanager can send. For example, what thecon-
temptuous vice president could have told the software
engineer—but did not—was something like: "The main
difficulty atthis stage isthat your plan will take toolong
and soescalate costs. I'dlike you tothink more about
your proposal, especially the design specifications for
software development, toseeifyou can figure outaway
todothesame jobmore quickly." Such amessage has
theopposite impact ofdestructive criticism: instead of
creating helplessness, anger, and rebellion, itholds out
thehope ofdoing better and suggests thebeginning ofa
plan for doing so.
Anartful critique focuses onwhat aperson has done
and can dorather than reading amark ofcharacter into
ajobpoorly done. AsLarson observes, "Acharacter at-
tack—calling someone stupid orincompetent—misses
thepoint. You immediately puthim onthedefensive, so
that he's nolonger receptive towhat you have totellhim
about how todothings better." That advice, ofcourse, is
precisely the same asformarried couples airing their
grievances.
And, interms ofmotivation, when people believe that
their failures are due tosome unchangeable deficit in
themselves, they lose hope and stop trying. The basic298/661

belief that leads tooptimism, remember, isthat setbacks
orfailures are due tocircumstances that wecan do
something about to change them for the better.
Harry Levinson, apsychoanalyst turned corporate
consultant, gives thefollowing advice ontheartofthe
critique, which isintricately entwined with the artof
praise:
•Bespecific. Pick asignificant incident, anevent that
illustrates akey problem that needs changing orapat-
tern ofdeficiency, such asthe inability todocertain
parts ofajob well. Itdemoralizes people just tohear
that they aredoing "something" wrong without knowing
what thespecifics aresothey can change. Focus onthe
specifics, saying what the person did well, what was
done poorly, and how itcould bechanged. Don't beat
around thebush orbeoblique orevasive; itwill muddy
thereal message. This, ofcourse, isakin totheadvice to
couples about the "XYZ" statement ofagrievance: say
exactly what theproblem is,what's wrong with itorhow
it makes you feel, and what could be changed.
"Specificity," Levinson points out, "isjust asimport-
ant forpraise asforcriticism. Iwon't say that vague
praise has noeffect atall,butitdoesn't have much, and
you can't learn from it."7
•Offer asolution. The critique, like alluseful feed-
back, should point toaway tofix the problem.299/661

Otherwise itleaves the recipient frustrated, demoral-
ized, ordemotivated. The critique may open thedoor to
possibilities and alternatives that the person did not
realize were there, orsimply sensitize hertodeficiencies
that need attention—but should include suggestions
about how to take care of these problems.
•Bepresent. Critiques, like praise, aremost effective
face toface and inprivate. People who areuncomfort-
able giving acriticism—or offering praise—are likely to
ease theburden onthemselves bydoing itatadistance,
such asinamemo. But this makes thecommunication
too impersonal, and robs the person receiving itofan
opportunity for a response or clarification.
•Besensitive. This isacall forempathy, forbeing at-
tuned totheimpact ofwhat you sayand how you sayit
ontheperson atthereceiving end. Managers who have
little empathy, Levinson points out, aremost prone to
giving feedback inahurtful fashion, such asthe
withering put-down. The net effect ofsuch criticism is
destructive: instead ofopening theway foracorrective,
itcreates anemotional backlash ofresentment, bitter-
ness, defensiveness, and distance.
Levinson also offers some emotional counsel forthose
atthereceiving end ofcriticism. One istoseethecriti-
cism asvaluable information about how todobetter, not
asapersonal attack. Another istowatch fortheimpulse300/661

toward defensiveness instead oftaking responsibility.
And, ifitgets tooupsetting, asktoresume themeeting
later, after aperiod toabsorb thedifficult message and
cool down abit. Finally, headvises people toseecriti-
cism asanopportunity towork together with thecritic
tosolve theproblem, notasanadversarial situation. All
this sage advice, ofcourse, directly echoes suggestions
formarried couples trying tohandle their complaints
without doing permanent damage totheir relationship.
As with marriage, so with work.
DEALING WITH DIVERSITY
Sylvia Skeeter, aformer army captain inher thirties,
was ashift manager ataDenny's restaurant in
Columbia, South Carolina. One slow afternoon agroup
ofblack customers—a minister, anassistant pastor, and
two visiting gospel singers—came inforameal, and sat
and satwhile the waitresses ignored them. The wait-
resses, recalls Skeeter, "would kind ofglare, with their
hands ontheir hips, and then they'd goback totalking
among themselves, like ablack person standing five feet
away didn't exist."
Skeeter, indignant, confronted the waitresses, and
complained tothemanager, who shrugged offtheir ac-
tions, saying, "That's how they were raised, and there's301/661

nothing Ican doabout it."Skeeter quit onthespot; she
is black.
Ifthat had been anisolated incident, this moment of
blatant prejudice might have passed unnoted. But Sylvia
Skeeter was one ofhundreds ofpeople who came for-
ward totestify toawidespread pattern ofantiblack pre-
judice throughout theDenny's restaurant chain, apat-
tern that resulted ina$54 million settlement ofaclass-
action suit onbehalf ofthousands ofblack customers
who had suffered such indignities.
The plaintiffs included adetail ofseven African-Amer-
ican Secret Service agents who satwaiting foranhour
fortheir breakfast while their white colleagues atthe
next table were served promptly—as they were allon
their way toprovide security foravisit byPresident
Clinton totheUnited States Naval Academy atAnnapol-
is.They also included ablack girlwith paralyzed legs in
Tampa, Florida, who satinherwheelchair fortwo hours
waiting forherfood late one night after aprom. The pat-
tern ofdiscrimination, the class-action suit held, was
due tothe widespread assumption throughout the
Denny's chain—particularly atthe level ofdistrict and
branch manager—that black customers were bad for
business. Today, largely asaresult ofthesuit and publi-
city surrounding it,theDenny's chain ismaking amends
totheblack community. And every employee, especially302/661

managers, must attend sessions ontheadvantages ofa
multiracial clientele.
Such seminars have become astaple ofin-house train-
ingincompanies throughout America, with thegrowing
realization bymanagers that even ifpeople bring preju-
dices towork with them, they must learn toact as
though they have none. The reasons, over and above hu-
man decency, arepragmatic. One istheshifting face of
theworkforce, aswhite males, who used tobethedom-
inant group, arebecoming aminority. Asurvey ofsever-
alhundred American companies found that more than
three quarters ofnew employees were nonwhite—a
demographic shift that isalso reflected toalarge extent
inthe changing pool ofcustomers.8Another reason is
theincreasing need forinternational companies tohave
employees who notonly putany bias aside toappreciate
people from diverse cultures (and markets) butalso turn
that appreciation tocompetitive advantage. Athird mo-
tivation isthe potential fruit ofdiversity, interms of
heightened collective creativity and entrepreneurial
energy.
Allthis means the culture ofanorganization must
change tofoster tolerance, even ifindividual biases re-
main. But how can acompany dothis? The sad fact is
that thepanoply ofone-day, one-video, orsingle-week-
end "diversity training" courses donot really seem to303/661

budge thebiases ofthose employees who come tothem
with deep prejudice against one oranother group,
whether itbewhites biased against blacks, blacks
against Asians, orAsians resenting Hispanics. Indeed,
theneteffect ofinept diversity courses—those that raise
false expectations bypromising toomuch, orsimply cre-
ateanatmosphere ofconfrontation instead ofunder-
standing—can betoheighten the tensions that divide
groups intheworkplace, calling even greater attention
tothese differences. Tounderstand what can bedone, it
helps to first understand the nature of prejudice itself.
The Roots of Prejudice
Dr. Vamik Volkan isapsychiatrist attheUniversity of
Virginia now, but heremembers what itwas like grow-
ingupinaTurkish family ontheisland ofCyprus, then
bitterly contested between Turks and Greeks. Asaboy
Volkan heard rumors that thelocal Greek priest's cinc-
ture had aknot foreach Turkish child hehad strangled,
and remembers thetone ofdismay inwhich hewas told
how hisGreek neighbors atepigs, whose meat was con-
sidered toofilthy toeatinhisown Turkish culture. Now,
asastudent ofethnic conflict, Volkan points tosuch
childhood memories toshow how hatreds between
groups arekept alive over theyears, aseach new genera-
tion issteeped inhostile biases like these.9The304/661

psychological price ofloyalty toone's own group can be
antipathy toward another, especially when there isa
long history of enmity between the groups.
Prejudices are akind ofemotional learning that oc-
curs early inlife, making these reactions especially hard
toeradicate entirely, even inpeople who asadults feel it
iswrong tohold them. "The emotions ofprejudice are
formed inchildhood, while thebeliefs that areused to
justify itcome later," explained Thomas Pettigrew, aso-
cial psychologist attheUniversity ofCalifornia atSanta
Cruz, who has studied prejudice fordecades. "Later in
lifeyou may want tochange your prejudice, butitisfar
easier tochange your intellectual beliefs than your deep
feelings. Many Southerners have confessed tome, for
instance, that even though intheir minds they nolonger
feel prejudice against blacks, they feel squeamish when
they shake hands with ablack. The feelings areleftover
from what they learned in their families as children."10
The power ofthe stereotypes that buttress prejudice
comes inpart from amore neutral dynamic inthemind
that makes stereotypes ofallkinds self-confirming.11
People remember more readily instances that support
thestereotype while tending todiscount instances that
challenge it.Onmeeting ataparty anemotionally open
and warm Englishman who disconfirms thestereotype
ofthecold, reserved Briton, forexample, people can tell305/661

themselves that he's just unusual, or"he's been
drinking."
The tenacity ofsubtle biases may explain why, while
over thelast forty years orsoracial attitudes ofAmeric-
anwhites toward blacks have become increasingly more
tolerant, more subtle forms ofbias persist: people dis-
avow racist attitudes while still acting with covert bias.12
When asked, such people saythey feel nobigotry, butin
ambiguous situations still actinabiased way—though
they give arationale other than prejudice. Such bias can
take theform, say, ofawhite senior manager—who be-
lieves hehasnoprejudices—rejecting ablack jobapplic-
ant, ostensibly not because ofhisrace but because his
education and experience "are not quite right" forthe
job, while hiring awhite applicant with about thesame
background. Oritmight take theform ofgiving abrief-
ingand helpful tips toawhite salesman about tomake a
call, butsomehow neglecting todothesame forablack
or Hispanic salesman.
Zero Tolerance for Intolerance
Ifpeople's long-held biases cannot besoeasily weeded
out, what can bechanged iswhat they doabout them. At
Denny's, forexample, waitresses orbranch managers
who took itupon themselves todiscriminate against
blacks were seldom, ifever, challenged. Instead, some306/661

managers seem tohave encouraged them, atleast ta-
citly, todiscriminate, even suggesting policies such as
demanding payment formeals inadvance from black
customers only, denying blacks widely advertised free
birthday meals, orlocking thedoors and claiming tobe
closed ifagroup ofblack customers was coming. As
John P.Relman, anattorney who sued Denny's onbe-
half oftheblack Secret Service agents, put it,"Denny's
management closed their eyes towhat thefield staff was
doing. There must have been some message …which
freed uptheinhibitions oflocal managers toactontheir
racist impulses."13
But everything weknow about theroots ofprejudice
and how tofight iteffectively suggests that precisely this
attitude—turning ablind eyetoacts ofbias—allows dis-
crimination tothrive. Todonothing, inthis context, is
anactofconsequence initself, letting thevirus ofpreju-
dice spread unopposed. More tothepoint than diversity
training courses—or perhaps essential totheir having
much effect—is that thenorms ofagroup bedecisively
changed bytaking anactive stance against any acts of
discrimination, from the top echelons ofmanagement
ondown. Biases may not budge, but acts ofprejudice
can bequashed, iftheclimate ischanged. AsanIBM ex-
ecutive putit,"We don't tolerate slights orinsults inany307/661

way; respect fortheindividual iscentral toIBM's cul-
ture."14
Ifresearch onprejudice has any lesson formaking a
corporate culture more tolerant, itistoencourage
people tospeak out against even low-key acts ofdis-
crimination orharassment—offensive jokes, say, orthe
posting ofgirlie calendars demeaning towomen
coworkers. One study found that when people inagroup
heard someone make ethnic slurs, itledothers todothe
same. The simple actofnaming bias assuch orobjecting
toitonthespot establishes asocial atmosphere that dis-
courages it;saying nothing serves tocondone it.15Inthis
endeavor, those inpositions ofauthority play apivotal
role: their failure tocondemn acts ofbias sends thetacit
message that such acts areokay. Following through with
action such asareprimand sends apowerful message
that bias isnot trivial, but has real—and negat-
ive—consequences.
Here tootheskills ofemotional intelligence areanad-
vantage, especially inhaving the social knack toknow
notjust when buthow tospeak upproductively against
bias. Such feedback should becouched with allthefin-
esse ofaneffective criticism, soitcan beheard without
defensiveness. Ifmanagers and coworkers dothis natur-
ally, orlearn todoso,bias incidents aremore likely to
fall away.308/661

The more effective diversity training courses set a
new, organization wide, explicit ground rule that makes
bias inany form out-of-bounds, and soencourages
people who have been silent witnesses and bystanders to
voice their discomforts and objections. Another active
ingredient indiversity courses isperspective-taking, a
stance that encourages empathy and tolerance. Tothe
degree that people come tounderstand thepain ofthose
who feel discriminated against, they aremore likely to
speak out against it.
Inshort, itismore practical totrytosuppress theex-
pression ofbias rather than trying toeliminate theatti-
tude itself; stereotypes change very slowly, ifatall.Sim-
plyputting people ofdifferent groups together does little
ornothing tolower intolerance, aswitness cases of
school desegregation inwhich intergroup hostility rose
rather than decreased. For the plethora ofdiversity
training programs that are sweeping through the cor-
porate world, this means arealistic goal istochange the
norms ofagroup forshowing prejudice orharassing;
such programs can domuch toraise into thecollective
awareness the idea that bigotry orharassment arenot
acceptable and will not betolerated. But toexpect that
such aprogram will uproot deeply held prejudices is
unrealistic.309/661

Still, since prejudices areavariety ofemotional learn-
ing, relearning ispossible—though ittakes time and
should notbeexpected astheoutcome ofaone-time di-
versity training workshop. What can make adifference,
though, issustained camaraderie and daily efforts to-
ward acommon goal bypeople ofdifferent back-
grounds. The lesson here isfrom school desegregation:
when groups failtomix socially, instead forming hostile
cliques, the negative stereotypes intensify. But when
students have worked together asequals toattain a
common goal, asonsports teams orinbands, their ste-
reotypes break down—as can happen naturally inthe
workplace, when people work together aspeers over the
years.16
But tostop atbattling prejudice intheworkplace isto
miss agreater opportunity: taking advantage ofthecre-
ative and entrepreneurial possibilities that adiverse
workforce can offer. Asweshall see, aworking group of
varied strengths and perspectives, ifitcan operate in
harmony, islikely tocome tobetter, more creative, and
more effective solutions than those same people work-
ing in isolation.
ORGANIZATION SAVVY AND THE
GROUP IQ310/661

Bytheend ofthecentury, athird oftheAmerican work-
force will be"knowledge workers," people whose pro-
ductivity ismarked by adding value toinforma-
tion—whether asmarket analysts, writers, orcomputer
programmers. Peter Drucker, the eminent business
maven who coined theterm "knowledge worker," points
out that such workers' expertise ishighly specialized,
and that their productivity depends ontheir efforts be-
ing coordinated aspart ofanorganizational team:
writers arenot publishers; computer programmers are
not software distributors. While people have always
worked intandem, notes Drucker, with knowledge
work, "teams become thework unit rather than theindi-
vidual himself."17And that suggests why emotional in-
telligence, theskills that help people harmonize, should
become increasingly valued asaworkplace asset inthe
years to come.
Perhaps themost rudimentary form oforganizational
teamwork isthe meeting, that inescapable part ofan
executive's lot—in aboardroom, onaconference call, in
someone's office. Meetings—bodies in the same
room—are but themost obvious, and asomewhat anti-
quated, example ofthesense inwhich work isshared.
Electronic networks, e-mail, teleconferences, work
teams, informal networks, and thelike areemerging as
new functional entities inorganizations. Tothedegree311/661

that the explicit hierarchy asmapped onanorganiza-
tional chart istheskeleton ofanorganization, these hu-
man touch points are its central nervous system.
Whenever people come together tocollaborate,
whether itbeinanexecutive planning meeting orasa
team working toward ashared product, there isavery
real sense inwhich they have agroup IQ,thesum total
ofthetalents and skills ofallthose involved. And how
well they accomplish their task will bedetermined by
how high that IQis.The single most important element
ingroup intelligence, itturns out, isnottheaverage IQ
intheacademic sense, butrather interms ofemotional
intelligence. The key toahigh group IQissocial har-
mony. Itisthis ability toharmonize that, allother things
being equal, will make one group especially talented,
productive, and successful, and another—with members
whose talent and skill are equal inother regards—do
poorly.
The idea that there isagroup intelligence atallcomes
from Robert Sternberg, the Yale psychologist, and
Wendy Williams, agraduate student, who were seeking
tounderstand why some groups arefarmore effective
than others.18After all,when people come together to
work asagroup, each brings certain talents—say, ahigh
verbal fluency, creativity, empathy, ortechnical expert-
ise. While agroup can beno"smarter" than the sum312/661

total ofallthese specific strengths, itcan bemuch
dumber ifitsinternal workings don't allow people to
share their talents. This maxim became evident when
Sternberg and Williams recruited people totake part in
groups that were given thecreative challenge ofcoming
upwith aneffective advertising campaign forafictitious
sweetener that showed promise as a sugar substitute.
One surprise was that people who were too eager to
take part were adrag onthegroup, lowering itsoverall
performance; these eager beavers were too controlling
ordomineering. Such people seemed tolack abasic ele-
ment ofsocial intelligence, theability torecognize what
isaptand what inappropriate ingive-and-take. Another
negative was having dead weight, members who didnot
participate.
The single most important factor inmaximizing the
excellence ofagroup's product was thedegree towhich
themembers were able tocreate astate ofinternal har-
mony, which lets them take advantage ofthefulltalent
oftheir members. The overall performance ofharmoni-
ous groups was helped byhaving amember who was
particularly talented; groups with more friction were far
less able tocapitalize onhaving members ofgreat abil-
ity.Ingroups where there arehigh levels ofemotional
and social static—whether itbefrom fear oranger, from
rivalries orresentments—people cannot offer their best.313/661

But harmony allows agroup totake maximum advant-
age of its most creative and talented members' abilities.
While the moral ofthis tale isquite clear for, say,
work teams, ithas amore general implication forany-
one who works within anorganization. Many things
people doatwork depend ontheir ability tocall ona
loose network offellow workers; different tasks can
mean calling ondifferent members ofthe network. In
effect, this creates the chance foradhoc groups, each
with amembership tailored tooffer anoptimal array of
talents, expertise, and placement. Just how well people
can "work" anetwork—in effect, make itinto atempor-
ary, adhoc team—is acrucial factor inon-the-job
success.
Consider, forexample, astudy ofstar performers at
Bell Labs, the world-famous scientific think tank near
Princeton. The labs arepeopled byengineers and scient-
ists who are allatthe top onacademic IQtests. But
within this pool oftalent, some emerge asstars, while
others areonly average intheir output. What makes the
difference between stars and theothers isnottheir aca-
demic IQ,buttheir emotional IQ.They arebetter able to
motivate themselves, and better able towork their in-
formal networks into ad hoc teams.
The "stars" were studied inone division atthelabs, a
unit that creates and designs theelectronic switches that314/661

control telephone systems—a highly sophisticated and
demanding piece ofelectronic engineering.19Because
the work isbeyond the capacity ofany one person to
tackle, itisdone inteams that can range from just 5or
soengineers to150. Nosingle engineer knows enough to
dothejobalone; getting things done demands tapping
other people's expertise. Tofind outwhat made thedif-
ference between those who were highly productive and
those who were only average, Robert Kelley and Janet
Caplan had managers and peers nominate the10to15
percent of engineers who stood out as stars.
When they compared thestars with everyone else, the
most dramatic finding, atfirst, was thepaucity ofdiffer-
ences between thetwo groups. "Based onawide range
ofcognitive and social measures, from standard tests for
IQtopersonality inventories, there's little meaningful
difference ininnate abilities," Kelley and Caplan wrote
intheHarvard Business Review. "As itdevelops, aca-
demic talent was notagood predictor ofon-the-job pro-
ductivity," nor was IQ.
But after detailed interviews, the critical differences
emerged inthe internal and interpersonal strategies
"stars" used togettheir work done. One ofthemost im-
portant turned outtobearapport with anetwork ofkey
people. Things gomore smoothly forthestandouts be-
cause they put time into cultivating good relationships315/661

with people whose services might beneeded inacrunch
aspart ofaninstant adhoc team tosolve aproblem or
handle acrisis. "Amiddle performer atBell Labs talked
about being stumped byatechnical problem," Kelley
and Caplan observed. "He painstakingly called various
technical gurus and then waited, wasting valuable time
while calls went unreturned and e-mail messages un-
answered. Star performers, however, rarely face such
situations because they dothework ofbuilding reliable
networks before they actually need them. When they call
someone foradvice, stars almost always get afaster
answer."
Informal networks areespecially critical forhandling
unanticipated problems. "The formal organization isset
uptohandle easily anticipated problems," one study of
these networks observes. "But when unexpected prob-
lems arise, theinformal organization kicks in.Itscom-
plex web ofsocial ties form every time colleagues com-
municate, and solidify over time into surprisingly stable
networks. Highly adaptive, informal networks move di-
agonally and elliptically, skipping entire functions toget
things done."20
The analysis ofinformal networks shows that just be-
cause people work together day today they will notne-
cessarily trust each other with sensitive information
(such asadesire tochange jobs, orresentment about316/661

how amanager orpeer behaves), nor turn tothem in
crisis. Indeed, amore sophisticated view ofinformal
networks shows that there are atleast three varieties:
communications webs—who talks towhom; expertise
networks, based onwhich people areturned toforad-
vice; and trust networks. Being amain node intheex-
pertise network means someone will have areputation
fortechnical excellence, which often leads toapromo-
tion. But there isvirtually norelationship between being
anexpert and being seen assomeone people can trust
with their secrets, doubts, and vulnerabilities. Apetty
office tyrant ormicromanager may behigh onexpertise,
but will besolow ontrust that itwill undermine their
ability tomanage, and effectively exclude them from in-
formal networks. The stars ofanorganization areoften
those who have thick connections onallnetworks,
whether communications, expertise, or trust.
Beyond amastery ofthese essential networks, other
forms oforganizational savvy the Bell Labs stars had
mastered included effectively coordinating their efforts
inteamwork; being leaders inbuilding consensus; being
able toseethings from theperspective ofothers, such as
customers orothers onawork team; persuasiveness;
and promoting cooperation while avoiding conflicts.
While allofthese rely onsocial skills, thestars also dis-
played another kind ofknack: taking initiative—being317/661

self-motivated enough totake onresponsibilities above
and beyond their stated job—and self-management in
the sense ofregulating their time and work commit-
ments well. Allsuch skills, ofcourse, areaspects ofemo-
tional intelligence.
There arestrong signs that what istrue atBell Labs
augurs forthe future ofallcorporate life, atomorrow
where the basic skills ofemotional intelligence will be
ever more important, inteamwork, incooperation, in
helping people learn together how towork more effect-
ively. Asknowledge-based services and intellectual cap-
italbecome more central tocorporations, improving the
way people work together will beamajor way tolever-
age intellectual capital, making acritical competitive
difference. Tothrive, ifnot survive, corporations would
do well to boost their collective emotional intelligence.318/661

11
Mind and Medicine
"Who taught you all this, Doctor?"
The reply came promptly:
"Suffering."
—ALBERT CAMUS ,The Plague
Avague ache inmygroin sent metomydoctor. Nothing
seemed unusual until helooked attheresults ofaurine
test. I had traces of blood in my urine.
"Iwant you togotothehospital and getsome tests …
kidney function, cytology …,"hesaid inabusinesslike
tone.
Idon't know what hesaid next. Mymind seemed to
freeze at the word cytology. Cancer.
Ihave afoggy memory ofhisexplaining tomewhen
and where togofordiagnostic tests. Itwas thesimplest
instruction, but Ihad toask him torepeat itthree or
four times. Cytology —my mind would not leave the
word. That one word made mefeel asthough Ihad just
been mugged at my own front door.
Why should Ihave reacted sostrongly? Mydoctor was
just being thorough and competent, checking thelimbs
inadiagnostic decision tree. There was atiny likelihood
that cancer was theproblem. But this rational analysis

was irrelevant atthat moment. Intheland ofthesick,
emotions reign supreme; fear isathought away. Wecan
besoemotionally fragile while weareailing because our
mental well-being isbased inpart ontheillusion ofin-
vulnerability. Sickness—especially a severe ill-
ness—bursts that illusion, attacking thepremise that our
private world issafe and secure. Suddenly wefeel weak,
helpless, and vulnerable.
The problem iswhen medical personnel ignore how
patients arereacting emotionally, even while attending
totheir physical condition. This inattention totheemo-
tional reality ofillness neglects agrowing body ofevid-
ence showing that people's emotional states can play a
sometimes significant role intheir vulnerability todis-
ease and in the course of their recovery. Modern medical
care too often lacks emotional intelligence.
For thepatient, any encounter with anurse orphysi-
cian can beachance forreassuring information, com-
fort, and solace—or, ifhandled unfortunately, aninvita-
tion todespair. But too often medical caregivers are
rushed orindifferent topatients' distress. Tobesure,
there arecompassionate nurses and physicians who take
the time toreassure and inform aswell asadminister
medically. But the trend istoward aprofessional uni-
verse inwhich institutional imperatives can leave med-
ical staff oblivious tothe vulnerabilities ofpatients, or320/661

feeling toopressed todoanything about them. With the
hard realities ofamedical system increasingly timed by
accountants, things seem to be getting worse.
Beyond thehumanitarian argument forphysicians to
offer care along with cure, there are other compelling
reasons toconsider thepsychological and social reality
ofpatients asbeing within the medical realm rather
than separate from it.Bynow ascientific case can be
made that there isamargin ofmedical effectiveness,
both inprevention and treatment, that can begained by
treating people's emotional state along with their medic-
alcondition. Not inevery case orevery condition, of
course. But looking atdata from hundreds and hun-
dreds ofcases, there isonaverage enough increment of
medical benefit tosuggest that anemotional interven-
tion should beastandard part ofmedical care forthe
range of serious disease.
Historically, medicine inmodern society has defined
itsmission interms ofcuring disease —the medical dis-
order—while overlooking illness —the patient's experi-
ence ofdisease. Patients, bygoing along with this view
oftheir problem, join aquiet conspiracy toignore how
they are reacting emotionally totheir medical prob-
lems—or todismiss those reactions asirrelevant tothe
course oftheproblem itself. That attitude isreinforced321/661

byamedical model that dismisses entirely theidea that
mind influences body in any consequential way.
Yet there isanequally unproductive ideology inthe
other direction: thenotion that people can cure them-
selves ofeven the most pernicious disease simply by
making themselves happy orthinking positive thoughts,
orthat they are somehow toblame forhaving gotten
sick inthe first place. The result ofthis attitude-will-
cure-all rhetoric has been tocreate widespread confu-
sion and misunderstanding about the extent towhich
illness can beaffected bythemind, and, perhaps worse,
sometimes tomake people feel guilty forhaving adis-
ease, asthough itwere asign ofsome moral lapse or
spiritual unworthiness.
The truth liessomewhere between these extremes. By
sorting through thescientific data, myaim istoclarify
the contradictions and replace the nonsense with a
clearer understanding ofthedegree towhich our emo-
tions—and emotional intelligence—play apart inhealth
and disease.
THE BODY'S MIND: HOW EMOTIONS
MATTER FOR HEALTH
In1974 afinding inalaboratory attheSchool ofMedi-
cine and Dentistry, University ofRochester, rewrote
biology's map ofthebody: Robert Ader, apsychologist,322/661

discovered that the immune system, like the brain,
could learn. His result was ashock; theprevailing wis-
dom inmedicine had been that only thebrain and cent-
ral nervous system could respond toexperience by
changing how they behaved. Ader's finding ledtothein-
vestigation ofwhat areturning out tobemyriad ways
the central nervous system and the immune system
communicate—biological pathways that make themind,
theemotions, and thebody notseparate, butintimately
entwined.
Inhisexperiment white rats had been given amedica-
tion that artificially suppressed thequantity ofdisease-
fighting Tcells circulating intheir blood. Each time they
received the medication, they ate italong with
saccharin-laced water. But Ader discovered that giving
therats thesaccharin-flavored water alone, without the
suppressive medication, still resulted inalowering of
theT-cell count—to thepoint that some oftherats were
getting sick and dying. Their immune system had
learned tosuppress Tcells inresponse totheflavored
water. That just should nothave happened, according to
the best scientific understanding at the time.
The immune system isthe"body's brain," asneuros-
cientist Francisco Varela, atParis's Ecole Polytechnique,
puts it,defining the body's own sense ofself—of what
belongs within itand what does not.1Immune cells323/661

travel inthe bloodstream throughout the entire body,
contacting virtually every other cell. Those cells they re-
cognize, they leave alone; those they fail torecognize,
they attack. The attack either defends usagainst viruses,
bacteria, and cancer or,iftheimmune cells misidentify
some ofthe body's own cells, creates anautoimmune
disease such asallergy orlupus. Until the day Ader
made his serendipitous discovery, every anatomist,
every physician, and every biologist believed that the
brain (along with itsextensions throughout thebody via
the central nervous system) and the immune system
were separate entities, neither able toinfluence theop-
eration oftheother. There was nopathway that could
connect thebrain centers monitoring what therattasted
with theareas ofbone marrow that manufacture Tcells.
Or so it had been thought for a century.
Over the years since then, Ader's modest discovery
has forced anew look atthelinks between theimmune
system and the central nervous system. The field that
studies this, psychoneuroimmunology, orPNI, isnow a
leading-edge medical science. Itsvery name acknow-
ledges thelinks: psycho, or"mind"; neuro, fortheneur-
oendocrine system (which subsumes thenervous system
and hormone systems); and immunology, forthe im-
mune system.324/661

Anetwork ofresearchers isfinding that thechemical
messengers that operate most extensively inboth brain
and immune system are those that are most dense in
neural areas that regulate emotion.2Some ofthe
strongest evidence foradirect physical pathway allow-
ing emotions toimpact the immune system has come
from David Felten, acolleague ofAder's. Felten began
bynoting that emotions have apowerful effect onthe
autonomic nervous system, which regulates everything
from how much insulin issecreted toblood-pressure
levels. Felten, working with hiswife, Suzanne, and other
colleagues, then detected ameeting point where the
autonomic nervous system directly talks tolymphocytes
and macrophages, cells of the immune system.3
Inelectron-microscope studies, they found synapse
like contacts where thenerve terminals oftheautonom-
icsystem have endings that directly abut these immune
cells. This physical contact point allows thenerve cells
torelease neurotransmitters toregulate the immune
cells; indeed, they signal back and forth. The finding is
revolutionary. Noone had suspected that immune cells
could be targets of messages from the nerves.
Totest how important these nerve endings were inthe
workings oftheimmune system, Felten went astep fur-
ther. Inexperiments with animals heremoved some
nerves from lymph nodes and spleen—where immune325/661

cells arestored ormade—and then used viruses tochal-
lenge theimmune system. The result: ahuge drop inim-
mune response tothe virus. His conclusion isthat
without those nerve endings theimmune system simply
does notrespond asitshould tothechallenge ofanin-
vading virus orbacterium. Inshort, thenervous system
notonly connects totheimmune system, butisessential
for proper immune function.
Another key pathway linking emotions and the im-
mune system isviathe influence ofthe hormones re-
leased under stress. The catecholamines (epinephrine
and norepinephrine—otherwise known asadrenaline
and nor-adrenaline), cortisol and prolactin, and thenat-
ural opiates beta-endorphin and enkephalin areallre-
leased during stress arousal. Each has astrong impact
onimmune cells. While therelationships arecomplex,
themain influence isthat while these hormones surge
through the body, the immune cells are hampered in
their function: stress suppresses immune resistance, at
least temporarily, presumably inaconservation ofen-
ergy that puts apriority onthemore immediate emer-
gency, which ismore pressing forsurvival. But ifstress
isconstant and intense, that suppression may become
long-lasting.4
Microbiologists and other scientists arefinding more
and more such connections between thebrain and the326/661

cardiovascular and immune systems—having first had to
accept the once-radical notion that they exist at all.5
TOXIC EMOTIONS: THE CLINICAL
DATA
Despite such evidence, many ormost physicians arestill
skeptical that emotions matter clinically. One reason is
that while many studies have found stress and negative
emotions toweaken theeffectiveness ofvarious immune
cells, itisnot always clear that the range ofthese
changes is great enough to make a medical difference.
Even so,anincreasing number ofphysicians acknow-
ledge the place ofemotions inmedicine. For instance,
Dr. Camran Nezhat, aneminent gynecological laparo-
scopic surgeon atStanford University, says, "Ifsomeone
scheduled forsurgery tells meshe's panicked that day
and does not want togothrough with it,Icancel the
surgery." Nezhat explains, "Every surgeon knows that
people who areextremely scared doterribly insurgery.
They bleed too much, they have more infections and
complications. They have aharder time recovering. It's
much better if they are calm."
The reason isstraightforward: panic and anxiety hike
blood pressure, and veins distended bypressure bleed
more profusely when cutbythesurgeon's knife. Excess327/661

bleeding isone ofthemost troublesome surgical com-
plications, one that can sometimes lead to death.
Beyond such medical anecdotes, evidence fortheclin-
ical importance ofemotions has been mounting stead-
ily.Perhaps the most compelling data onthe medical
significance ofemotion come from amass analysis com-
bining results from 101smaller studies into asingle lar-
gerone ofseveral thousand men and women. The study
confirms that perturbing emotions are bad for
health—to adegree.6People who experienced chronic
anxiety, long periods ofsadness and pessimism, unre-
mitting tension orincessant hostility, relentless cyn-
icism orsuspiciousness, were found tohave double the
risk ofdisease—including asthma, arthritis, headaches,
peptic ulcers, and heart disease (each representative of
major, broad categories ofdisease). This order ofmag-
nitude makes distressing emotions astoxic arisk factor
as,say, smoking orhigh cholesterol are forheart dis-
ease—in other words, a major threat to health.
Tobesure, this isabroad statistical link, and byno
means indicates that everyone who has such chronic
feelings will thus more easily fallprey toadisease. But
theevidence forapotent role foremotion indisease is
farmore extensive than this one study ofstudies indic-
ates. Taking amore detailed look atthedata forspecific
emotions, especially the bigthree—anger, anxiety, and328/661

depression—makes clearer some specific ways that feel-
ings have medical significance, even ifthe biological
mechanisms bywhich such emotions have their effect
are yet to be fully understood.7
When Anger Is Suicidal
Awhile back, theman said, abump ontheside of
hiscar led toafruitless and frustrating journey.
After endless insurance company redtape and auto
body shops that did more damage, hestill owed
$800. And itwasn't even hisfault. Hewas sofedup
that whenever hegotinto thecarhewas overcome
with disgust. Hefinally sold thecarinfrustration.
Years later the memories still made the man livid
with outrage.
This bitter memory was brought tomind purposely, as
part ofastudy ofanger inheart patients atStanford
University Medical School. Allthepatients inthestudy
had, like this embittered man, suffered afirst heart at-
tack, and thequestion was whether anger might have a
significant impact ofsome kind ontheir heart function.
The effect was striking: while thepatients recounted in-
cidents that made them mad, thepumping efficiency of
their hearts dropped byfive percentage points.8Some of
the patients showed adrop inpumping efficiency of7329/661

percent orgreater—a range that cardiologists regard asa
sign ofamyocardial ischemia, adangerous drop in
blood flow to the heart itself.
The drop inpumping efficiency was notseen with oth-
erdistressing feelings, such asanxiety, nor during phys-
ical exertion; anger seems tobethe one emotion that
does most harm totheheart. While recalling theupset-
ting incident, thepatients said they were only about half
asmad asthey had been while itwas happening, sug-
gesting that their hearts would have been even more
greatly hampered during an actual angry encounter.
This finding ispart ofalarger network ofevidence
emerging from dozens ofstudies pointing tothepower
ofanger todamage theheart.9The oldidea hasnotheld
upthat ahurried, high-pressure Type-A personality isat
great risk from heart disease, butfrom that failed theory
has emerged anew finding: itishostility that puts
people at risk.
Much ofthedata onhostility has come from research
byDr. Redford Williams atDuke University.10For ex-
ample, Williams found that those physicians who had
had thehighest scores onatest ofhostility while still in
medical school were seven times aslikely tohave died
bythe age offifty aswere those with low hostility
scores—being prone toanger was astronger predictor of
dying young than were other risk factors such as330/661

smoking, high blood pressure, and high cholesterol. And
findings byacolleague, Dr. John Barefoot atthe
University ofNorth Carolina, show that inheart patients
undergoing angiography, inwhich atube isinserted into
thecoronary artery tomeasure lesions, scores onatest
ofhostility correlate with the extent and severity of
coronary artery disease.
Ofcourse, noone issaying that anger alone causes
coronary artery disease; itisone ofseveral interacting
factors. AsPeter Kaufman, acting chief oftheBehavioral
Medicine Branch ofthe National Heart, Lung, and
Blood Institute, explained tome, "We can't yetsort out
whether anger and hostility play acausal role inthe
early development ofcoronary artery disease, orwheth-
eritintensifies theproblem once heart disease has be-
gun, orboth. But take atwenty-year-old who repeatedly
gets angry. Each episode ofanger adds anadditional
stress totheheart byincreasing hisheart rate and blood
pressure. When that isrepeated over and over again, it
can dodamage," especially because the turbulence of
blood flowing through the coronary artery with each
heartbeat "can cause microtears inthe vessel, where
plaque develops. Ifyour heart rate isfaster and blood
pressure ishigher because you're habitually angry, then
over thirty years that may lead toafaster buildup of
plaque, and so lead to coronary artery disease."11331/661

Once heart disease develops, the mechanisms
triggered byanger affect thevery efficiency oftheheart
asapump, aswas shown inthestudy ofangry memories
inheart patients. The neteffect istomake anger partic-
ularly lethal inthose who already have heart disease.
For instance, aStanford University Medical School
study of1,012 men and women who suffered from afirst
heart attack and then were followed foruptoeight years
showed that those men who were most aggressive and
hostile attheoutset suffered thehighest rate ofsecond
heart attacks.12There were similar results inaYale
School ofMedicine study of929 men who had survived
heart attacks and were tracked foruptoten years.13
Those who had been rated aseasily roused toanger
were three times more likely todieofcardiac arrest than
those who were more even-tempered. Ifthey also had
high cholesterol levels, the added risk from anger was
five times higher.
The Yale researchers point outthat itmay notbean-
geralone that heightens therisk ofdeath from heart dis-
ease, but rather intense negative emotionality ofany
kind that regularly sends surges ofstress hormones
through the body. But overall, the strongest scientific
links between emotions and heart disease aretoanger: a
Harvard Medical School study asked more than fifteen
hundred men and women who had suffered heart332/661

attacks todescribe their emotional state inthehours be-
fore theattack. Being angry more than doubled therisk
ofcardiac arrest inpeople who already had heart dis-
ease; the heightened risk lasted forabout two hours
after the anger was aroused.14
These findings donotmean that people should tryto
suppress anger when itisappropriate. Indeed, there is
evidence that trying tocompletely suppress such feel-
ings intheheat ofthemoment actually results inmagni-
fying the body's agitation and may raise blood pres-
sure.15Ontheother hand, aswesaw inChapter 5,the
net effect ofventilating anger every time itisfelt is
simply tofeed it,making itamore likely response toany
annoying situation. Williams resolves this paradox by
concluding that whether anger isexpressed ornotisless
important than whether itischronic. Anoccasional dis-
play ofhostility isnotdangerous tohealth; theproblem
arises when hostility becomes soconstant astodefine
anantagonistic personal style—one marked byrepeated
feelings ofmistrust and cynicism and thepropensity to
snide comments and put-downs, aswell asmore obvi-
ous bouts of temper and rage.16
The hopeful news isthat chronic anger need notbea
death sentence: hostility isahabit that can change. One
group ofheart-attack patients atStanford University
Medical School was enrolled inaprogram designed to333/661

help them soften the attitudes that gave them ashort
temper. This anger-control training resulted ina
second-heart-attack rate 44percent lower than forthose
who had nottried tochange their hostility.17Aprogram
designed byWilliams has had similar beneficial res-
ults.18Like the Stanford program, itteaches basic ele-
ments ofemotional intelligence, particularly mindful-
ness ofanger asitbegins tostir, theability toregulate it
once ithas begun, and empathy. Patients areasked to
jotdown cynical orhostile thoughts asthey notice them.
Ifthethoughts persist, they trytoshort-circuit them by
saying (orthinking), "Stop!" And they areencouraged to
purposely substitute reasonable thoughts for cynical,
mistrustful ones during trying situations—for instance,
ifanelevator isdelayed, tosearch forabenign reason
rather than harbor anger against some imagined
thoughtless person who may beresponsible for the
delay. For frustrating encounters, they learn theability
toseethings from theother person's perspective—em-
pathy is a balm for anger.
AsWilliams told me, "The antidote tohostility isto
develop amore trusting heart. Allittakes isthe right
motivation. When people seethat their hostility canlead
to an early grave, they are ready to try."334/661

Stress: Anxiety Out ofProportion and Out of
Place
Ijust feel anxious and tense allthetime. Itallstar-
tedinhigh school. Iwas astraight-A student, and
Iworried constantly about mygrades, whether the
other kids and the teachers liked me, being
prompt forclasses—things like that. There was a
lotofpressure from my parents todowell in
school and tobeagood role model. …Iguess I
just caved intoallthat pressure, because my
stomach problems began inmysophomore year of
high school. Since that time, I've had tobereally
careful about drinking caffeine and eating spicy
meals. Inotice that when I'm feeling worried or
tense mystomach will flare up,and since I'musu-
ally worried about something, I'm always naus-
eous.19
Anxiety—the distress evoked bylife's pressures—is
perhaps theemotion with thegreatest weight ofscientif-
icevidence connecting ittothe onset ofsickness and
course ofrecovery. When anxiety helps usprepare to
deal with some danger (apresumed utility inevolution),
then ithas served uswell. But inmodern lifeanxiety is
more often outofproportion and outofplace—distress
comes intheface ofsituations that wemust live with or335/661

that areconjured bythemind, notreal dangers weneed
toconfront. Repeated bouts ofanxiety signal high levels
ofstress. The woman whose constant worrying primes
her gastrointestinal trouble isatextbook example of
how anxiety and stress exacerbate medical problems.
Ina1993 review intheArchives ofInternal Medicine
ofextensive research onthe stress-disease link, Yale
psychologist Bruce McEwen noted abroad spectrum of
effects: compromising immune function tothe point
that itcan speed the metastasis ofcancer; increasing
vulnerability toviral infections; exacerbating plaque
formation leading toatherosclerosis and blood clotting
leading tomyocardial infarction; accelerating theonset
ofType Idiabetes and the course ofType IIdiabetes;
and worsening ortriggering anasthma attack.20Stress
can also lead toulceration ofthegastrointestinal tract,
triggering symptoms inulcerative colitis and ininflam-
matory bowel disease. The brain itself issusceptible to
thelong-term effects ofsustained stress, including dam-
age tothehippocampus, and sotomemory. Ingeneral,
says McEwen, "evidence ismounting that the nervous
system issubject to'wear and tear' asaresult ofstress-
ful experiences."21
Particularly compelling evidence forthe medical im-
pact from distress hascome from studies with infectious
diseases such ascolds, the flu, and herpes. We are336/661

continually exposed tosuch viruses, but ordinarily our
immune system fights them off—except that under emo-
tional stress those defenses more often fail. Inexperi-
ments inwhich the robustness ofthe immune system
has been assayed directly, stress and anxiety have been
found toweaken it,butinmost such results itisunclear
whether the range ofimmune weakening isofclinical
significance—that is,great enough toopen the way to
disease.22For that reason stronger scientific links of
stress and anxiety tomedical vulnerability come from
prospective studies: those that start with healthy people
and monitor first aheightening ofdistress followed bya
weakening ofthe immune system and the onset of
illness.
Inone ofthe most scientifically compelling studies,
Sheldon Cohen, apsychologist atCarnegie-Mellon
University, working with scientists ataspecialized colds
research unit inSheffield, England, carefully assessed
how much stress people were feeling intheir lives, and
then systematically exposed them toacold virus. Not
everyone soexposed actually comes down with acold; a
robust immune system can—and constantly does—resist
thecold virus. Cohen found that themore stress intheir
lives, themore likely people were tocatch cold. Among
those with little stress, 27percent came down with a
cold after being exposed tothevirus; among those with337/661

themost stressful lives, 47percent gotthecold—direct
evidence that stress itself weakens the immune sys-
tem.23(While this may beone ofthose scientific results
that confirms what everyone has observed orsuspected
allalong, itisconsidered alandmark finding because of
its scientific rigor.)
Likewise, married couples who forthree months kept
daily checklists ofhassles and upsetting events such as
marital fights showed astrong pattern: three orfour
days after anespecially intense batch ofupsets, they
came down with acold orupper-respiratory infection.
That lagperiod isprecisely theincubation time formany
common cold viruses, suggesting that being exposed
while they were most worried and upset made them es-
pecially vulnerable.24
The same stress-infection pattern holds fortheherpes
virus—both the type that causes cold sores onthe lip
and the type that causes genital lesions. Once people
have been exposed totheherpes virus, itstays latent in
thebody, flaring upfrom time totime. The activity of
theherpes virus canbetracked bylevels ofantibodies to
itintheblood. Using this measure, reactivation ofthe
herpes virus has been found inmedical students
undergoing year-end exams, inrecently separated wo-
men, and among people under constant pressure from
caring for a family member with Alzheimer's disease.25338/661

The toll ofanxiety isnot just that itlowers the im-
mune response; other research isshowing adverse ef-
fects onthecardiovascular system. While chronic hostil-
ityand repeated episodes ofanger seem toput men at
greatest risk forheart disease, themore deadly emotion
inwomen may beanxiety and fear. Inresearch atStan-
ford University School ofMedicine with more than a
thousand men and women who had suffered afirst heart
attack, those women who went ontosuffer asecond
heart attack were marked byhigh levels offearfulness
and anxiety. Inmany cases thefearfulness took theform
ofcrippling phobias: after their first heart attack thepa-
tients stopped driving, quit their jobs, oravoided going
out.26
The insidious physical effects ofmental stress and
anxiety—the kind produced byhigh-pressure jobs, or
high-pressure lives such asthat ofasingle mother jug-
gling day care and ajob—are being pinpointed atan
anatomically fine-grained level. For example, Stephen
Manuck, aUniversity ofPittsburgh psychologist, put
thirty volunteers through arigorous, anxiety-riddled or-
deal inalaboratory while hemonitored themen's blood,
assaying asubstance secreted byblood platelets called
adenosine triphosphate, orATP, which can trigger
blood-vessel changes that may lead toheart attacks and
strokes. While the volunteers were under the intense339/661

stress, their ATP levels rose sharply, asdid their heart
rate and blood pressure.
Understandably, health risks seem greatest forthose
whose jobs are high in"strain": having high-pressure
performance demands while having little ornocontrol
over how togetthejobdone (apredicament that gives
bus drivers, forinstance, ahigh rate ofhypertension).
For example, inastudy of569 patients with colorectal
cancer and amatched comparison group, those who
said that intheprevious tenyears they had experienced
severe on-the-job aggravation were five and ahalf times
more likely tohave developed the cancer compared to
those with no such stress in their lives.27
Because themedical tollofdistress issobroad, relaxa-
tion techniques—which directly counter thephysiologic-
alarousal ofstress—are being used clinically toease the
symptoms ofawide variety ofchronic illnesses. These
include cardiovascular disease, some types ofdiabetes,
arthritis, asthma, gastrointestinal disorders, and chronic
pain, toname afew. Tothe degree any symptoms are
worsened bystress and emotional distress, helping pa-
tients become more relaxed and able tohandle their tur-
bulent feelings can often offer some reprieve.28
The Medical Costs of Depression340/661

She had been diagnosed with metastatic breast can-
cer, areturn and spread ofthemalignancy several
years after what she had thought was successful
surgery forthedisease. Her doctor could nolonger
talk ofacure, and thechemotherapy, atbest, might
offer just afew more months oflife. Understand-
ably, shewas depressed—so much sothat whenever
she went toher oncologist, she found herself at
some point bursting outinto tears. Her oncologist's
response each time: asking her toleave the office
immediately.
Apart from the hurtfulness ofthe oncologist's cold-
ness, diditmatter medically that hewould notdeal with
hispatient's constant sadness? Bythetime adisease has
become sovirulent, itwould beunlikely that any emo-
tion would have anappreciable effect onitsprogress.
While the woman's depression most certainly dimmed
the quality ofher final months, the medical evidence
that melancholy might affect thecourse ofcancer isas
yetmixed.29But cancer aside, asmattering ofstudies
suggest arole fordepression inmany other medical con-
ditions, especially inworsening asickness once ithas
begun. The evidence ismounting that forpatients with
serious disease who aredepressed, itwould pay medic-
ally to treat their depression too.341/661

One complication intreating depression inmedical
patients isthat itssymptoms, including loss ofappetite
and lethargy, areeasily mistaken forsigns ofother dis-
eases, particularly byphysicians with little training in
psychiatric diagnosis. That inability todiagnose depres-
sion may itself add totheproblem, since itmeans that a
patient's depression—like that oftheweepy breast-can-
cer patient—goes unnoticed and untreated. And that
failure todiagnose and treat may add totherisk ofdeath
in severe disease.
For instance, of100 patients who received bone mar-
row transplants, 12ofthe 13who had been depressed
died within thefirst year ofthetransplant, while 34of
theremaining 87were still alive two years later.30And
inpatients with chronic kidney failure who were receiv-
ingdialysis, those who were diagnosed with major de-
pression were most likely todiewithin thefollowing two
years; depression was astronger predictor ofdeath than
any medical sign.31Here theroute connecting emotion
tomedical status was notbiological butattitudinal: The
depressed patients were much worse about complying
with their medical regimens—cheating ontheir diets, for
example, which put them at higher risk.
Heart disease tooseems tobeexacerbated bydepres-
sion. Inastudy of2,832 middle-aged men and women
tracked for twelve years, those who felt asense of342/661

nagging despair and hopelessness had aheightened rate
ofdeath from heart disease.32And forthe3percent or
sowho were most severely depressed, the death rate
from heart disease, compared totherate forthose with
no feelings of depression, was four times greater.
Depression seems topose aparticularly grave medical
risk forheart attack survivors.33Inastudy ofpatients in
aMontreal hospital who were discharged after being
treated forafirst heart attack, depressed patients had a
sharply higher risk ofdying within the following six
months. Among theone ineight patients who were seri-
ously depressed, the death rate was five times higher
than forothers with comparable disease—an effect as
great asthat ofmajor medical risks forcardiac death,
such asleftventricular dysfunction orahistory ofprevi-
ous heart attacks. Among thepossible mechanisms that
might explain why depression sogreatly increases the
odds ofalater heart attack areitseffects onheart rate
variability, increasing the risk of fatal arrhythmias.
Depression has also been found tocomplicate recov-
eryfrom hipfracture. Inastudy ofelderly women with
hip fracture, several thousand were given psychiatric
evaluations ontheir admission tothe hospital. Those
who were depressed onadmission stayed anaverage of
eight days longer than those with comparable injury but
nodepression, and were only athird aslikely ever to343/661

walk again. But depressed women who had psychiatric
help fortheir depression along with other medical care
needed less physical therapy towalk again and had few-
errehospitalizations over the three months after their
return home from the hospital.
Likewise, inastudy ofpatients whose condition was
sodire that they were among thetop10percent ofthose
using medical services—often because ofhaving mul-
tiple illnesses, such asboth heart disease and dia-
betes—about one insixhad serious depression. When
these patients were treated fortheproblem, thenumber
ofdays per year that they were disabled dropped from
79to51forthose who had major depression, and from
62days per year tojust 18inthose who had been
treated for mild depression.34
THE MEDICAL BENEFITS OF POSITIVE
FEELINGS
The cumulative evidence for adverse medical effects
from anger, anxiety, and depression, then, iscompel-
ling. Both anger and anxiety, when chronic, can make
people more susceptible toarange ofdisease. And while
depression may notmake people more vulnerable tobe-
coming ill,itdoes seem toimpede medical recovery and
heighten therisk ofdeath, especially with more frail pa-
tients with severe conditions.344/661

But ifchronic emotional distress initsmany forms is
toxic, theopposite range ofemotion can betonic—to a
degree. This bynomeans says that positive emotion is
curative, orthat laughter orhappiness alone will turn
thecourse ofaserious disease. The edge positive emo-
tions offer seems subtle, but, byusing studies with large
numbers ofpeople, can beteased out ofthe mass of
complex variables that affect the course of disease.
The Price ofPessimism—and Advantages of
Optimism
Aswith depression, there aremedical costs topessim-
ism—and corresponding benefits from optimism. For
example, 122 men who had their first heart attack were
evaluated ontheir degree ofoptimism orpessimism.
Eight years later, ofthe25most pessimistic men, 21had
died; ofthe 25most optimistic, just 6had died. Their
mental outlook proved abetter predictor ofsurvival
than any medical risk factor, including the amount of
damage totheheart inthefirst attack, artery blockage,
cholesterol level, orblood pressure. And inother re-
search, patients going into artery bypass surgery who
were more optimistic had amuch faster recovery and
fewer medical complications during and after surgery
than did more pessimistic patients.35345/661

Like itsnear cousin optimism, hope has healing
power. People who have agreat deal ofhopefulness are,
understandably, better able tobear upunder trying cir-
cumstances, including medical difficulties. Inastudy of
people paralyzed from spinal injuries, those who had
more hope were able togain greater levels ofphysical
mobility compared toother patients with similar de-
grees ofinjury, but who feltless hopeful. Hope isespe-
cially telling inparalysis from spinal injury, since this
medical tragedy typically involves aman who ispara-
lyzed inhistwenties byanaccident and will remain so
forthe rest ofhislife. How hereacts emotionally will
have broad consequences forthedegree towhich hewill
make theefforts that might bring him greater physical
and social functioning.36
Just why anoptimistic orpessimistic outlook should
have health consequences isopen toany ofseveral ex-
planations. One theory proposes that pessimism leads to
depression, which inturn interferes with theresistance
oftheimmune system totumors and infection—an un-
proven speculation atpresent. Oritmay bethat pessim-
ists neglect themselves—some studies have found that
pessimists smoke and drink more, and exercise less,
than optimists, and are generally much more careless
about their health habits. Oritmay one day turn out
that the physiology ofhopefulness isitself somehow346/661

helpful biologically to the body's fight against disease.
With a Little Help From My Friends:
The Medical Value of Relationships
Add thesounds ofsilence tothelistofemotional risks to
health—and close emotional ties tothelistofprotective
factors. Studies done over two decades involving more
than thirty-seven thousand people show that social isol-
ation—the sense that you have nobody with whom you
can share your private feelings orhave close con-
tact—doubles thechances ofsickness ordeath.37Isola-
tion itself, a1987 report inScience concluded, "isassig-
nificant tomortality rates assmoking, high blood pres-
sure, high cholesterol, obesity, and lack ofphysical exer-
cise." Indeed, smoking increases mortality risk bya
factor ofjust 1.6, while social isolation does sobya
factor of 2.0, making it a greater health risk.38
Isolation isharder onmen than onwomen. Isolated
men were two tothree times more likely todieaswere
men with close social ties; forisolated women, therisk
was one and ahalf times greater than formore socially
connected women. The difference between men and wo-
men intheimpact ofisolation may bebecause women's
relationships tend tobeemotionally closer than men's; a
few strands ofsuch social ties forawoman may bemore347/661

comforting than thesame small number offriendships
for a man.
Ofcourse, solitude isnotthesame asisolation; many
people who live ontheir own orseefew friends arecon-
tent and healthy. Rather, itisthesubjective sense ofbe-
ingcutofffrom people and having noone toturn tothat
isthemedical risk. This finding isominous inlight of
the increasing isolation bred bysolitary TV-watching
and thefalling away ofsocial habits such asclubs and
visits inmodern urban societies, and suggests anadded
value toself-help groups such asAlcoholics Anonymous
as surrogate communities.
The power ofisolation asamortality risk factor—and
thehealing power ofclose ties—can beseen inthestudy
ofone hundred bone marrow transplant patients.39
Among patients who feltthey had strong emotional sup-
port from their spouse, family, orfriends, 54percent
survived thetransplants after two years, versus just 20
percent among those who reported little such support.
Similarly, elderly people who suffer heart attacks, but
have two ormore people intheir lives they can rely on
foremotional support, aremore than twice aslikely to
survive longer than ayear after anattack than arethose
people with no such support.40
Perhaps themost telling testimony tothehealing po-
tency ofemotional ties isaSwedish study published in348/661

1993.41Allthemen living intheSwedish city ofGote-
borg who were born in1933 were offered afree medical
exam; seven years later the752 men who had come for
theexam were contacted again. Ofthese, 41had died in
the intervening years.
Men who had originally reported being under intense
emotional stress had adeath rate three times greater
than those who said their lives were calm and placid.
The emotional distress was due toevents such asserious
financial trouble, feeling insecure atwork orbeing
forced outofajob, being theobject ofalegal action, or
going through adivorce. Having had three ormore of
these troubles within the year before the exam was a
stronger predictor ofdying within the ensuing seven
years than were medical indicators such ashigh blood
pressure, high concentrations ofblood triglycerides, or
high serum cholesterol levels.
Yetamong men who said they had adependable web
ofintimacy—a wife, close friends, and the like— there
was no relationship whatever between high stress
levels and death rate. Having people toturn toand talk
with, people who could offer solace, help, and sugges-
tions, protected them from the deadly impact oflife's
rigors and trauma.
The quality ofrelationships aswell astheir sheer
number seems key to buffering stress. Negative349/661

relationships take their own toll. Marital arguments, for
example, have anegative impact onthe immune sys-
tem.42One study ofcollege roommates found that the
more they disliked each other, themore susceptible they
were tocolds and theflu,and themore frequently they
went todoctors. John Cacioppo, the Ohio State
University psychologist who did the roommate study,
told me, "It's themost important relationships inyour
life, thepeople you seeday inand day out, that seem to
becrucial foryour health. And themore significant the
relationship isinyour life, themore itmatters foryour
health."43
The Healing Power of Emotional Support
InThe Merry Adventures ofRobin Hood, Robin advises
ayoung follower: "Tell usthytroubles and speak freely.
Aflow ofwords doth ever ease theheart ofsorrows; itis
like opening thewaste where themill dam isoverfull."
This bitoffolk wisdom has great merit; unburdening a
troubled heart appears tobegood medicine. The sci-
entific corroboration ofRobin's advice comes from
James Pennebaker, aSouthern Methodist University
psychologist, who has shown inaseries ofexperiments
that getting people totalk about the thoughts that
trouble them most has abeneficial medical effect.44His
method isremarkably simple: heasks people towrite,350/661

forfifteen totwenty minutes aday over five orsodays,
about, forexample, "the most traumatic experience of
your entire life," orsome pressing worry ofthemoment.
What people write can bekept entirely tothemselves if
they like.
The net effect ofthis confessional isstriking: en-
hanced immune function, significant drops inhealth-
center visits inthe following sixmonths, fewer days
missed from work, and even improved liver enzyme
function. Moreover, those whose writing showed most
evidence ofturbulent feelings had thegreatest improve-
ments intheir immune function. Aspecific pattern
emerged asthe "healthiest" way toventilate troubling
feelings: atfirst expressing ahigh level ofsadness, anxi-
ety, anger—whatever troubling feelings the topic
brought up; then, over the course ofthe next several
days weaving anarrative, finding some meaning inthe
trauma or travail.
That process, ofcourse, seems akin towhat happens
when people explore such troubles inpsychotherapy.
Indeed, Pennebaker's findings suggest one reason why
other studies show medical patients given psychother-
apy inaddition tosurgery ormedical treatment often
fare better medically than dothose who receive medical
treatment alone.45351/661

Perhaps themost powerful demonstration oftheclin-
ical power ofemotional support was ingroups atStan-
ford University Medical School for women with ad-
vanced metastatic breast cancer. After aninitial treat-
ment, often including surgery, these women's cancer
had returned and was spreading through their bodies. It
was only amatter oftime, clinically speaking, until the
spreading cancer killed them. Dr. David Spiegel, who
conducted thestudy, was himself stunned bythefind-
ings, aswas the medical community: women with ad-
vanced breast cancer who went toweekly meetings with
others survived twice aslong asdid women with the
same disease who faced it on their own.46
Allthe women received standard medical care; the
only difference was that some also went tothegroups,
where they were able tounburden themselves with oth-
erswho understood what they faced and were willing to
listen totheir fears, their pain, and their anger. Often
this was theonly place where thewomen could beopen
about these emotions, because other people intheir lives
dreaded talking with them about the cancer and their
imminent death. Women who attended thegroups lived
forthirty-seven additional months, onaverage, while
those with the disease who did not gotothe groups
died, onaverage, innineteen months—a gain inlifeex-
pectancy for such patients beyond the reach ofany352/661

medication orother medical treatment. AsDr. Jimmie
Holland, the chief psychiatric oncologist atSloan-Ket-
tering Memorial Hospital, acancer treatment center in
New York City, put ittome, "Every cancer patient
should beinagroup like this." Indeed, ifithad been a
new drug that produced the extended life expectancy,
pharmaceutical companies would bebattling toproduce
it.
BRINGING EMOTIONAL
INTELLIGENCE TO MEDICAL CARE
The day aroutine checkup spotted some blood inmyur-
ine, mydoctor sent meforadiagnostic test inwhich I
was injected with aradioactive dye. Ilayonatable while
anoverhead X-ray machine took successive images of
thedye's progression through mykidneys and bladder. I
had company forthe test: aclose friend, aphysician
himself, happened tobevisiting for afew days and
offered tocome tothehospital with me. Hesatinthe
room while theX-ray machine, onanautomated track,
rotated fornew camera angles, whirred and clicked; ro-
tated, whirred, clicked.
The test took anhour and ahalf. Atthevery end akid-
ney specialist hurried into theroom, quickly introduced
himself, and disappeared toscan theX-rays. Hedidn't
return to tell me what they showed.353/661

Aswewere leaving the exam room myfriend and I
passed thenephrologist. Feeling shaken and somewhat
dazed bythetest, Ididnothave thepresence ofmind to
ask the one question that had been onmy mind all
morning. But mycompanion, thephysician, did: "Doc-
tor," hesaid, "my friend's father died ofbladder cancer.
He's anxious toknow ifyou saw any signs ofcancer in
the X-rays."
"No abnormalities," was thecurt reply asthenephro-
logist hurried on to his next appointment.
Myinability toask thesingle question Icared about
most isrepeated athousand times each day inhospitals
and clinics everywhere. Astudy ofpatients inphysi-
cians' waiting rooms found that each had anaverage of
three ormore questions inmind toask the physician
they were about tosee. But when the patients left the
physician's office, anaverage ofonly one and ahalf of
those questions had been answered.47This finding
speaks toone ofthe many ways patients' emotional
needs are unmet bytoday's medicine. Unanswered
questions feed uncertainty, fear, catastrophizing. And
they lead patients tobalk atgoing along with treatment
regimes they don't fully understand.
There aremany ways medicine can expand itsview of
health toinclude theemotional realities ofillness. For
one, patients could routinely be offered fuller354/661

information essential tothe decisions they must make
about their own medical care; some services now offer
any caller astate-of-the-art computer search ofthemed-
ical literature onwhat ails them, sothat patients can be
more equal partners with their physicians inmaking in-
formed decisions.48Another approach isprograms that,
inafew minutes' time, teach patients tobeeffective
questioners with their physicians, sothat when they
have three questions inmind asthey wait forthedoctor,
they will come out of the office with three answers.49
Moments when patients face surgery orinvasive and
painful tests arefraught with anxiety—and areaprime
opportunity todeal with theemotional dimension. Some
hospitals have developed presurgery instruction forpa-
tients that help them assuage their fears and handle
their discomforts—for example, byteaching patients re-
laxation techniques, answering their questions well in
advance ofsurgery, and telling them several days ahead
ofsurgery precisely what they are likely toexperience
during their recovery. The result: patients recover from
surgery an average of two to three days sooner.50
Being ahospital patient can beatremendously lonely,
helpless experience. But some hospitals have begun to
design rooms sothat family members can stay with pa-
tients, cooking and caring forthem asthey would at355/661

home—a progressive step that, ironically, isroutine
throughout the Third World.51
Relaxation training can help patients deal with some
ofthedistress their symptoms bring, aswell aswith the
emotions that may betriggering orexacerbating their
symptoms. An exemplary model isJon Kabat-Zinn's
Stress Reduction Clinic attheUniversity ofMassachu-
setts Medical Center, which offers aten-week course in
mindfulness and yoga topatients; the emphasis ison
being mindful ofemotional episodes asthey arehappen-
ing, and oncultivating adaily practice that offers deep
relaxation. Hospitals have made instructional tapes
from the course available over patients' television
sets—a farbetter emotional diet forthebedridden than
the usual fare, soap operas.52
Relaxation and yoga arealso atthecore oftheinnov-
ative program fortreating heart disease developed by
Dr.Dean Ornish.53After ayear ofthis program, which
included alow-fat diet, patients whose heart disease was
severe enough towarrant acoronary bypass actually re-
versed the buildup ofartery-clogging plaque. Ornish
tells methat relaxation training isone ofthemost im-
portant parts oftheprogram. Like Kabat-Zinn's, ittakes
advantage ofwhat Dr.Herbert Benson calls the"relaxa-
tion response," thephysiological opposite ofthestress356/661

arousal that contributes tosuch awide spectrum of
medical problems.
Finally, there isthe added medical value ofanem-
pathic physician ornurse, attuned topatients, able to
listen and beheard. This means fostering "relationship-
centered care," recognizing that the relationship
between physician and patient isitself afactor ofsigni-
ficance. Such relationships would befostered more
readily ifmedical education included some basic tools of
emotional intelligence, especially self-awareness and the
arts of empathy and listening.54
TOWARD A MEDICINE THAT CARES
Such steps areabeginning. But formedicine toenlarge
itsvision toembrace theimpact ofemotions, two large
implications ofthescientific findings must betaken to
heart:
1.Helping people better manage their upsetting feel-
ings —anger, anxiety, depression, pessimism, and
loneliness —isaform ofdisease prevention. Since the
data show that the toxicity ofthese emotions, when
chronic, isonapar with smoking cigarettes, helping
people handle them better could potentially have amed-
icalpayoff asgreat asgetting heavy smokers toquit. One
way todothis that could have broad public-health357/661

effects would betoimpart most basic emotional intelli-
gence skills tochildren, sothat they become lifelong
habits. Another high-payoff preventive strategy would
betoteach emotion management topeople reaching re-
tirement age, since emotional well-being isone factor
that determines whether anolder person declines rap-
idly orthrives. Athird target group might beso-called
at-risk populations—the very poor, single working
mothers, residents ofhigh-crime neighborhoods, and
thelike—who live under extraordinary pressure day in
and day out, and somight dobetter medically with help
in handling the emotional toll of these stresses.
2.Many patients can benefit measurably when their
psychological needs are attended toalong with their
purely medical ones. While itisastep toward more hu-
mane care when aphysician ornurse offers adistressed
patient comfort and consolation, more can bedone. But
emotional care isanopportunity too often lost inthe
way medicine ispracticed today; itisablind spot for
medicine. Despite mounting data onthemedical useful-
ness ofattending toemotional needs, aswell assupport-
ingevidence forconnections between thebrain's emo-
tional center and theimmune system, many physicians
remain skeptical that their patients' emotions matter
clinically, dismissing theevidence forthis astrivial and358/661

anecdotal, as"fringe," or,worse, astheexaggerations of
a self-promoting few.
Though more and more patients seek amore humane
medicine, itisbecoming endangered. Ofcourse, there
remain dedicated nurses and physicians who give their
patients tender, sensitive care. But thechanging culture
ofmedicine itself, asitbecomes more responsive tothe
imperatives ofbusiness, ismaking such care increas-
ingly difficult to find.
Ontheother hand, there may beabusiness advantage
tohumane medicine: treating emotional distress inpa-
tients, early evidence suggests, can save money—espe-
cially totheextent that itprevents ordelays theonset of
sickness, orhelps patients heal more quickly. Inastudy
ofelderly patients with hipfracture atMt. Sinai School
ofMedicine inNew York City and atNorthwestern
University, patients who received therapy fordepression
inaddition tonormal orthopedic care left the hospital
anaverage oftwo days earlier; total savings forthehun-
dred or so patients was $97,361 in medical costs.55
Such care also makes patients more satisfied with
their physicians and medical treatment. Intheemerging
medical marketplace, where patients often have theop-
tion tochoose between competing health plans, satisfac-
tion levels will nodoubt enter theequation ofthese very
personal decisions—souring experiences can lead359/661

patients togoelsewhere forcare, while pleasing ones
translate into loyalty.
Finally, medical ethics may demand such anap-
proach. Aneditorial inthe Journal ofthe American
Medical Association, commenting onareport that de-
pression increases five fold thelikelihood ofdying after
being treated for aheart attack, notes: "[T]he clear
demonstration that psychological factors like depression
and social isolation distinguish thecoronary heart dis-
ease patients athighest risk means itwould beunethical
not to start trying to treat these factors."56
Ifthefindings onemotions and health mean anything,
itisthat medical care that neglects how people feel as
they battle achronic orsevere disease isnolonger ad-
equate. Itistime formedicine totake more methodical
advantage ofthelink between emotion and health. What
isnow theexception could—and should—be part ofthe
mainstream, sothat amore caring medicine isavailable
tousall.Attheleast itwould make medicine more hu-
mane. And, forsome, itcould speed thecourse ofrecov-
ery. "Compassion," asone patient putitinanopen letter
tohissurgeon, "isnot mere hand holding. Itisgood
medicine."57360/661

PART FOUR
WINDOWS OF
OPPORTUNITY

12
The Family Crucible
It's alow-key family tragedy. Carl and Ann are
showing their daughter Leslie, just five, how toplay
abrand-new video game. But asLeslie starts to
play, her parents' overly eager attempts to"help"
her just seem togetintheway. Contradictory or-
ders fly in every direction.
"To theright, totheright—stop. Stop. Stop!" Ann,
the mother, urges, her voice growing more intent
and anxious asLeslie, sucking onher lipand
staring wide-eyed atthevideo screen, struggles to
follow these directives.
"See, you're notlined up…putittotheleft! To
the left!" Carl, the girl's father, brusquely orders.
Meanwhile Ann, her eyes rolling upward infrus-
tration, yells over his advice, "Stop! Stop!"
Leslie, unable toplease either her father orher
mother, contorts her jaw intension and blinks as
her eyes fill with tears.
Her parents start bickering, ignoring Leslie's
tears. "She's notmoving thestick that much!" Ann
tells Carl, exasperated.
Asthe tears start rolling down Leslie's cheeks,
neither parent makes any move that indicates they

notice orcare. AsLeslie raises herhand towipe her
eyes, her father snaps, "Okay, put your hand back
onthestick …you wanna getready toshoot. Okay,
put itover!" And hermother barks, "Okay, move it
just a teeny bit!"
But bynow Leslie issobbing softly, alone with her
anguish.
Atsuch moments children learn deep lessons. For
Leslie one conclusion from this painful exchange might
well bethat neither her parents, nor anyone else, for
that matter, cares about herfeelings.1When similar mo-
ments are repeated countless times over the course of
childhood they impart some ofthe most fundamental
emotional messages ofalifetime—lessons that can de-
termine alifecourse. Family lifeisour first school for
emotional learning; inthis intimate cauldron welearn
how tofeel about ourselves and how others will react to
ourfeelings; how tothink about these feelings and what
choices wehave inreacting; how toread and express
hopes and fears. This emotional schooling operates not
just through thethings that parents sayand dodirectly
tochildren, but also inthemodels they offer forhand-
ling their own feelings and those that pass between hus-
band and wife. Some parents aregifted emotional teach-
ers, others atrocious.363/661

There arehundreds ofstudies showing that how par-
ents treat their children—whether with harsh discipline
or empathic understanding, with indifference or
warmth, and soon—has deep and lasting consequences
for the child's emotional life. Only recently, though,
have there been hard data showing that having emotion-
ally intelligent parents isitself ofenormous benefit toa
child. The ways acouple handles the feelings between
them—in addition totheir direct dealings with a
child—impart powerful lessons totheir children, who
areastute learners, attuned tothesubtlest emotional ex-
changes inthe family. When research teams led by
Carole Hooven and John Gottman attheUniversity of
Washington did amicroanalysis ofinteractions in
couples onhow the partners handled their children,
they found that those couples who were more emotion-
ally competent inthe marriage were also the most ef-
fective inhelping their children with their emotional ups
and downs.2
The families were first seen when one oftheir children
was just five years old, and again when the child had
reached nine. Inaddition toobserving theparents talk
with each other, theresearch team also watched families
(including Leslie's) asthefather ormother tried toshow
their young child how tooperate anew video game—a
seemingly innocuous interaction, butquite telling about364/661

the emotional currents that run between parent and
child.
Some mothers and fathers were like Ann and Carl:
overbearing, losing patience with their child's ineptness,
raising their voices indisgust orexasperation, some
even putting their child down as"stupid"—in short, fall-
ingprey tothe same tendencies toward contempt and
disgust that eataway atamarriage. Others, however,
were patient with their child's errors, helping thechild
figure thegame out inhisorher own way rather than
imposing theparents' will. The video game session was a
surprisingly powerful barometer ofthe parents' emo-
tional style.
The three most common emotionally inept parenting
styles proved to be:
•Ignoring feelings altogether. Such parents treat a
child's emotional upset astrivial orabother, something
they should wait toblow over. They failtouseemotional
moments asachance togetcloser tothechild ortohelp
the child learn lessons in emotional competence.
•Being toolaissez-faire. These parents notice how a
child feels, but hold that however achild handles the
emotional storm isfine—even, say, hitting. Like those
who ignore achild's feelings, these parents rarely step in
totrytoshow their child analternative emotional re-
sponse. They try tosoothe allupsets, and will, for365/661

instance, use bargaining and bribes togettheir child to
stop being sad or angry.
•Being contemptuous, showing norespect forhow
thechild feels. Such parents aretypically disapproving,
harsh inboth their criticisms and their punishments.
They might, for instance, forbid any display ofthe
child's anger atall,and become punitive attheleast sign
ofirritability. These aretheparents who angrily yell ata
child who istrying totellhisside ofthestory, "Don't you
talk back to me!"
Finally, there areparents who seize theopportunity of
achild's upset toactaswhat amounts toanemotional
coach ormentor. They take their child's feelings seri-
ously enough totrytounderstand exactly what isupset-
ting them ("Are you angry because Tommy hurt your
feelings?") and tohelp the child find positive ways to
soothe their feelings ("Instead ofhitting him, why don't
you find atoytoplay with onyour own until you feel
like playing with him again?").
Inorder forparents tobeeffective coaches inthis
way, they must have afairly good grasp oftherudiments
ofemotional intelligence themselves. One ofthe basic
emotional lessons forachild, forexample, ishow todis-
tinguish among feelings; afather who istootuned out
of,say, hisown sadness cannot help hisson understand
thedifference between grieving over aloss, feeling sad366/661

inasad movie, and the sadness that arises when
something bad happens tosomeone the child cares
about. Beyond this distinction, there aremore sophistic-
ated insights, such asthat anger issooften prompted by
first feeling hurt.
Aschildren grow thespecific emotional lessons they
are ready for—and inneed of—shift. Aswe saw in
Chapter 7thelessons inempathy begin ininfancy, with
parents who attune totheir baby's feelings. Though
some emotional skills are honed with friends through
the years, emotionally adept parents can domuch to
help their children with each ofthebasics ofemotional
intelligence: learning how torecognize, manage, and
harness their feelings; empathizing; and handling the
feelings that arise in their relationships.
The impact onchildren ofsuch parenting isex-
traordinarily sweeping.3The University ofWashington
team found that when parents are emotionally adept,
compared tothose who handle feelings poorly, their
children—understandably—get along better with, show
more affection toward, and have less tension around
their parents. But beyond that, these children also are
better athandling their own emotions, aremore effect-
iveatsoothing themselves when upset, and getupset
less often. The children arealso more relaxed biologic-
ally, with lower levels ofstress hormones and other367/661

physiological indicators ofemotional arousal (apattern
that, ifsustained through life, might well augur better
physical health, aswesaw inChapter 11).Other advant-
ages are social: these children are more popular with
and arebetter-liked bytheir peers, and areseen bytheir
teachers asmore socially skilled. Their parents and
teachers alike rate these children ashaving fewer beha-
vioral problems such asrudeness oraggressiveness. Fin-
ally, the benefits are cognitive; these children can pay
attention better, and soare more effective learners.
Holding IQconstant, the five-year-olds whose parents
were good coaches had higher achievement scores in
math and reading when they reached third grade (a
powerful argument forteaching emotional skills tohelp
prepare children forlearning aswell aslife). Thus the
payoff forchildren whose parents areemotionally adept
isasurprising—almost astounding—range ofadvantages
across, and beyond, the spectrum of emotional
intelligence.
HEART START
The impact ofparenting onemotional competence starts
inthecradle. Dr.T.Berry Brazelton, theeminent Har-
vard pediatrician, has asimple diagnostic test ofa
baby's basic outlook toward life. Heoffers two blocks to
aneight-month-old, and then shows the baby how he368/661

wants hertoputthetwo blocks together. Ababy who is
hopeful about life, who hasconfidence inherown abilit-
ies, says Brazelton,
will pick upone block, mouth it,rub itinher hair,
drop itover the side ofthe table, watching tosee
whether you will retrieve itforher. When you do,
she finally completes therequested task—place the
two blocks together. Then she looks upatyou with
abright-eyed look ofexpectancy that says, "Tell me
how great I am!"4
Babies like these have gotten agoodly dose ofapprov-
aland encouragement from the adults intheir lives;
they expect tosucceed inlife's little challenges. Bycon-
trast, babies who come from homes toobleak, chaotic,
orneglectful goabout thesame small task inaway that
signals they already expect tofail. Itisnotthat these ba-
bies fail tobring the blocks together; they understand
the instruction and have the coordination tocomply.
But even when they do, reports Brazelton, their de-
meanor is"hangdog," alook that says, "I'm nogood.
See, I've failed." Such children arelikely togothrough
life with adefeatist outlook, expecting noencourage-
ment orinterest from teachers, finding school joyless,
perhaps eventually dropping out.369/661

The difference between the two outlooks—children
who areconfident and optimistic versus those who ex-
pect tofail—starts totake shape inthefirst few years of
life. Parents, says Brazelton, "need tounderstand how
their actions can help generate theconfidence, thecuri-
osity, thepleasure inlearning and theunderstanding of
limits" that help children succeed inlife. His advice is
informed byagrowing body ofevidence showing that
success inschool depends toasurprising extent onemo-
tional characteristics formed intheyears before achild
enters school. Aswesaw inChapter 6,forexample, the
ability offour-year-olds tocontrol theimpulse tograb
foramarshmallow predicted a210-point advantage in
their SAT scores fourteen years later.
The first opportunity forshaping the ingredients of
emotional intelligence isinthe earliest years, though
these capacities continue toform throughout theschool
years. The emotional abilities children acquire inlater
lifebuild onthose oftheearliest years. And these abilit-
ies,aswesaw inChapter 6,aretheessential foundation
foralllearning. Areport from the National Center for
Clinical Infant Programs makes the point that school
success isnot predicted byachild's fund offacts ora
precocious ability toread somuch asbyemotional and
social measures: being self-assured and interested;
knowing what kind ofbehavior isexpected and how to370/661

rein intheimpulse tomisbehave; being able towait, to
follow directions, and toturn toteachers forhelp; and
expressing needs while getting along with other chil-
dren.5
Almost allstudents who dopoorly inschool, says the
report, lack one ormore ofthese elements ofemotional
intelligence (regardless ofwhether they also have cog-
nitive difficulties such aslearning disabilities). The mag-
nitude oftheproblem isnotminor; insome states close
toone infive children have torepeat first grade, and
then astheyears goonfallfurther behind their peers,
becoming increasingly discouraged, resentful, and
disruptive.
Achild's readiness forschool depends onthemost ba-
sicofallknowledge, how tolearn. The report lists the
seven keyingredients ofthis crucial capacity—all related
to emotional intelligence:6
1.Confidence. Asense ofcontrol and mastery ofone's
body, behavior, and world; the child's sense that heis
more likely than not tosucceed atwhat heundertakes,
and that adults will be helpful.
2.Curiosity. The sense that finding outabout things is
positive and leads to pleasure.
3.Intentionality. The wish and capacity tohave an
impact, and toactupon that with persistence. This isre-
lated to a sense of competence, of being effective.371/661

4.Self-control. The ability tomodulate and control
one's own actions inage-appropriate ways; asense ofin-
ner control.
5.Relatedness. The ability toengage with others
based onthesense ofbeing understood byand under-
standing others.
6.Capacity tocommunicate. The wish and ability to
verbally exchange ideas, feelings, and concepts with oth-
ers. This isrelated toasense oftrust inothers and of
pleasure in engaging with others, including adults.
7.Cooperativeness. The ability tobalance one's own
needs with those of others in group activity.
Whether ornot achild arrives atschool onthe first
day ofkindergarten with these capabilities depends
greatly onhow much herparents—and preschool teach-
ers—have given her thekind ofcare that amounts toa
"Heart Start," the emotional equivalent ofthe Head
Start programs.
GETTING THE EMOTIONAL BASICS
Say atwo-month-old baby wakes upat3A.M. and starts
crying. Her mother comes inand, forthenext half hour,
thebaby contentedly nurses inhermother's arms while
her mother gazes ather affectionately, telling her that
she's happy toseeher, even inthemiddle ofthenight.372/661

The baby, content inher mother's love, drifts back to
sleep.
Now say another two-month-old baby, who also
awoke crying inthewee hours, ismet instead byamoth-
erwho istense and irritable, having fallen asleep just an
hour before after afight with her husband. The baby
starts totense upthemoment hismother abruptly picks
him up, telling him, "Just bequiet—I can't stand one
more thing! Come on,let's getitover with." Asthebaby
nurses hismother stares stonily ahead, not looking at
him, reviewing her fight with hisfather, getting more
agitated herself asshe mulls itover. The baby, sensing
hertension, squirms, stiffens, and stops nursing. "That's
allyou want?" hismother says. "Then don't eat." With
thesame abruptness she puts him back inhiscrib and
stalks out, letting him cryuntil hefalls back tosleep,
exhausted.
The two scenarios are presented bythe report from
theNational Center forClinical Infant Programs asex-
amples ofthekinds ofinteraction that, ifrepeated over
and over, instill very different feelings inatoddler about
himself and hisclosest relationships.7The first baby is
learning that people can betrusted tonotice her needs
and counted ontohelp, and that shecan beeffective in
getting help; the second isfinding that noone really
cares, that people can't becounted on, and that his373/661

efforts togetsolace will meet with failure. Ofcourse,
most babies getatleast ataste ofboth kinds ofinterac-
tion. But tothedegree that one ortheother istypical of
how parents treat achild over theyears, basic emotional
lessons will beimparted about how secure achild isin
the world, how effective hefeels, and how dependable
others are. Erik Erikson put itinterms ofwhether a
child comes to feel a "basic trust" or a basic mistrust.
Such emotional learning begins inlife's earliest mo-
ments, and continues throughout childhood. All the
small exchanges between parent and child have anemo-
tional subtext, and inthe repetition ofthese messages
over theyears children form thecore oftheir emotional
outlook and capabilities. Alittle girl who finds apuzzle
frustrating and asks her busy mother tohelp gets one
message ifthereply isthemother's clear pleasure atthe
request, and quite another ifit'sacurt "Don't bother
me—I've gotimportant work todo." When such encoun-
ters become typical ofchild and parent, they mold the
child's emotional expectations about relationships, out-
looks that will flavor herfunctioning inallrealms oflife,
for better or worse.
The risks are greatest forthose children whose par-
ents are grossly inept—immature, abusing drugs, de-
pressed orchronically angry, orsimply aimless and liv-
ingchaotic lives. Such parents arefarless likely togive374/661

adequate care, letalone attune totheir toddler's emo-
tional needs. Simple neglect, studies find, can bemore
damaging than outright abuse.8Asurvey ofmaltreated
children found theneglected youngsters doing theworst
ofall: they were the most anxious, inattentive, and
apathetic, alternately aggressive and withdrawn. The
rate forhaving torepeat first grade among them was 65
percent.
The first three orfour years oflifeareaperiod when
thetoddler's brain grows toabout two thirds itsfullsize,
and evolves incomplexity atagreater rate than itever
will again. During this period key kinds oflearning take
place more readily than later inlife—emotional learning
foremost among them. During this time severe stress
can impair thebrain's learning centers (and sobedam-
aging totheintellect). Though asweshall see, this can
beremedied tosome extent byexperiences later inlife,
theimpact ofthis early learning isprofound. Asone re-
port sums upthekeyemotional lesson oflife's first four
years, the lasting consequences are great:
Achild who cannot focus hisattention, who issus-
picious rather than trusting, sad orangry rather
than optimistic, destructive rather than respectful
and one who isovercome with anxiety, preoccupied
with frightening fantasy and feels generally un-
happy about himself—such achild has little375/661

opportunity atall,letalone equal opportunity, to
claim the possibilities of the world as his own.9
HOW TO RAISE A BULLY
Much can belearned about thelifelong effects ofemo-
tionally inept parenting—particularly itsrole inmaking
children aggressive—from longitudinal studies such as
one of870 children from upstate New York who were
followed from thetime they were eight until they were
thirty.10The most belligerent among thechildren—those
quickest tostart fights and who habitually used force to
gettheir way—were themost likely tohave dropped out
ofschool and, byage thirty, tohave arecord forcrimes
ofviolence. They also seemed tobehanding down their
propensity toviolence: their children were, ingrade
school, just like thetroublemakers their delinquent par-
ent had been.
There isalesson inhow aggressiveness ispassed from
generation togeneration. Any inherited propensities
aside, the troublemakers asgrown-ups acted inaway
that made family life aschool foraggression. Aschil-
dren, the troublemakers had parents who disciplined
them with arbitrary, relentless severity; asparents they
repeated thepattern. This was true whether ithad been
the father orthe mother who had been identified in
childhood ashighly aggressive. Aggressive little girls376/661

grew uptobejust asarbitrary and harshly punitive
when they became mothers astheaggressive boys were
asfathers. And while they punished their children with
special severity, they otherwise took little interest in
their children's lives, ineffect ignoring them much of
the time. Atthe same time the parents offered these
children avivid—and violent—example ofaggressive-
ness, amodel thechildren took with them toschool and
tothe playground, and followed throughout life. The
parents were notnecessarily mean-spirited, nordidthey
fail towish the best for their children; rather, they
seemed tobesimply repeating the style ofparenting
that had been modeled for them by their own parents.
Inthis model forviolence, these children were discip-
lined capriciously: iftheir parents were inabad mood,
they would beseverely punished; iftheir parents were in
agood mood, they could get away with mayhem at
home. Thus punishment came not somuch because of
what thechild had done, butbyvirtue ofhow theparent
felt. This isarecipe forfeelings ofworthlessness and
helplessness, and forthe sense that threats are every-
where and may strike atany time. Seen inlight ofthe
home lifethat spawns it,such children's combative and
defiant posture toward theworld atlarge makes acer-
tain sense, unfortunate though itremains. What isdis-
heartening ishow early these dispiriting lessons can be377/661

learned, and how grim thecosts forachild's emotional
life can be.
ABUSE THE EXTINCTION OF
EMPATHY
Intherough-and-tumble play oftheday-care cen-
ter, Martin, just two and ahalf, brushed upagainst
alittle girl, who, inexplicably, broke out crying.
Martin reached forherhand, butasthesobbing girl
moved away, Martin slapped her on the arm.
Asher tears continued Martin looked away and
yelled, "Cut itout! Cut itout over and over, each
time faster and louder.
When Martin then made another attempt topat
her, again she resisted. This time Martin bared his
teeth like a snarling dog, hissing at the sobbing girl.
Once more Martin started patting thecrying girl,
butthepats ontheback quickly turned into pound-
ing, and Martin went onhitting and hitting thepoor
little girl despite her screams.
That disturbing encounter testifies tohow abuse—be-
ing beaten repeatedly, atthe whim ofaparent's
moods—warps achild's natural bent toward empathy.11
Martin's bizarre, almost brutal response to his
playmate's distress istypical ofchildren like him, who378/661

have themselves been thevictims ofbeatings and other
physical abuse since their infancy. The response stands
instark contrast totoddlers' usual sympathetic entreat-
iesand attempts toconsole acrying playmate, reviewed
inChapter 7.Martin's violent response todistress atthe
day-care center may well mirror thelessons helearned
athome about tears and anguish: crying ismet atfirst
with aperemptory consoling gesture, butifitcontinues,
theprogression isfrom nasty looks and shouts, tohit-
ting, tooutright beating. Perhaps most troubling,
Martin already seems tolack themost primitive sort of
empathy, the instinct tostop aggression against
someone who ishurt. Attwo and ahalf hedisplays the
budding moral impulses of a cruel and sadistic brute.
Martin's meanness inplace ofempathy istypical of
other children like him who arealready, attheir tender
age, scarred bysevere physical and emotional abuse at
home. Martin was part ofagroup ofnine such toddlers,
ages one tothree, witnessed inatwo-hour observation
athisday-care center. The abused toddlers were com-
pared with nine others atthe day-care center from
equally impoverished, high-stress homes, butwho were
not physically abused. The differences inhow the two
groups oftoddlers reacted when another child was hurt
orupset were stark. Oftwenty-three such incidents, five
ofthe nine nonabused toddlers responded tothe379/661

distress ofachild nearby with concern, sadness, orem-
pathy. But inthetwenty-seven instances where theab-
used children could have done so,not one showed the
least concern; instead they reacted toacrying child with
expressions offear, anger, or,like Martin, aphysical
attack.
One abused little girl, forinstance, made aferocious,
threatening face atanother who had broken out into
tears. One-year-old Thomas, another oftheabused chil-
dren, froze interror when heheard achild crying across
the room; hesatcompletely still, hisface full offear,
back stiffly straight, histension increasing asthecrying
continued—as though bracing foranattack himself. And
twenty-eight-month-old Kate, also abused, was almost
sadistic: picking onJoey, asmaller infant, she knocked
him tothe ground with her feet, and ashelaythere
looked tenderly athim and began patting him gently on
the back—only tointensify the pats into hitting him
harder and harder, ignoring his misery. She kept
swinging away athim, leaning intoslug him sixorsev-
en times more, until he crawled away.
These children, ofcourse, treat others asthey them-
selves have been treated. And the callousness ofthese
abused children issimply amore extreme version of
that seen inchildren whose parents arecritical, threat-
ening, and harsh intheir punishments. Such children380/661

also tend tolack concern when playmates gethurt or
cry; they seem torepresent one end ofacontinuum of
coldness that peaks with thebrutality oftheabused chil-
dren. Asthey goonthrough, life, they are, asagroup,
more likely tohave cognitive difficulties inlearning,
more likely tobeaggressive and unpopular with their
peers (small wonder, iftheir preschool toughness isa
harbinger ofthefuture), more prone todepression, and,
asadults, more likely togetinto trouble with the law
and commit more crimes of violence.12
This failure ofempathy issometimes, ifnotoften, re-
peated over generations, with brutal parents having
themselves been brutalized bytheir own parents in
childhood.13Itstands indramatic contrast tothe em-
pathy ordinarily displayed bychildren ofparents who
arenurturing, encouraging their toddlers toshow con-
cern forothers and tounderstand how meanness makes
other children feel. Lacking such lessons inempathy,
these children seem not to learn it at all.
What isperhaps most troubling about theabused tod-
dlers ishow early they seem tohave learned torespond
like miniature versions oftheir own abusive parents.
But given thephysical beatings they received asasome-
times daily diet, theemotional lessons arealltooclear.
Remember that itisinmoments when passions run
high oracrisis isupon usthat theprimitive proclivities381/661

ofthebrain's limbic centers take onamore dominant
role. Atsuch moments the habits the emotional brain
has learned over and over will dominate, forbetter or
worse.
Seeing how thebrain itself isshaped bybrutality—or
bylove—suggests that childhood represents aspecial
window ofopportunity for emotional lessons. These
battered children have had anearly and steady diet of
trauma. Perhaps themost instructive paradigm forun-
derstanding the emotional learning such abused chil-
dren have undergone isinseeing how trauma can leave
alasting imprint onthebrain—and how even these sav-
age imprints can be mended.382/661

13
Trauma and Emotional
Relearning
Som Chit, aCambodian refugee, balked when herthree
sons asked her tobuy them toyAK-47 machine guns.
Her sons—ages six, nine, and eleven—wanted the toy
guns toplay thegame some ofthekids attheir school
called Purdy. Inthegame, Purdy, thevillain, uses asub-
machine gun tomassacre agroup ofchildren, then turns
itonhimself. Sometimes, though, the children have it
end differently: it is they who kill Purdy.
Purdy was the macabre reenactment bysome ofthe
survivors ofthe catastrophic events ofFebruary 17,
1989, atCleveland Elementary School inStockton, Cali-
fornia. There, during the school's late-morning recess
forfirst, second, and third graders, Patrick Purdy—who
had himself attended those grades atCleveland Ele-
mentary some twenty years earlier—stood atthe
playground's edge and fired wave after wave of7.22 mm
bullets atthe hundreds ofchildren atplay. For seven
minutes Purdy sprayed bullets toward the playground,
then putapistol tohishead and shot himself. When the
police arrived they found five children dying, twenty-
nine wounded.

Inensuing months, the Purdy game spontaneously
appeared intheplay ofboys and girls atCleveland Ele-
mentary, one ofmany signs that those seven minutes
and their aftermath were seared into the children's
memory. When Ivisited theschool, just ashort bike ride
from theneighborhood near theUniversity ofthePacific
where Imyself had grown up,itwas five months after
Purdy had turned that recess into anightmare. Hispres-
ence was still palpable, even though themost horrific of
the grisly remnants ofthe shooting—swarms ofbullet
holes, pools ofblood, bits offlesh, skin, and scalp—were
gone bythe morning after the shooting, washed away
and painted over.
Bythen the deepest scars atCleveland Elementary
were not tothebuilding but tothepsyches ofthechil-
dren and staff there, who were trying tocarry onwith
life asusual.1Perhaps most striking was how the
memory ofthose few minutes was revived again and
again byany small detail that was similar intheleast. A
teacher told me, forexample, that awave offright swept
through the school with the announcement that St.
Patrick's Day was coming; anumber ofthe children
somehow got the idea that the day was tohonor the
killer, Patrick Purdy.
"Whenever wehear anambulance onitsway tothe
rest home down the street, everything halts," another384/661

teacher told me. "The kids alllisten toseeifitwill stop
here orgoon." For several weeks many children were
terrified ofthemirrors intherestrooms; arumor swept
the school that "Bloody Virgin Mary," some kind of
fantasied monster, lurked there. Weeks after theshoot-
ingafrantic girl came running uptotheschool's prin-
cipal, Pat Busher, yelling, "Ihear shots! Ihear shots!"
The sound was from theswinging chain onatetherball
pole.
Many children became hypervigilant, asthough con-
tinually onguard against arepetition oftheterror; some
boys and girls would hover atrecess next tothe
classroom doors, not daring toventure outtotheplay-
ground where the killings had occurred. Others would
only play insmall groups, posting adesignated child as
lookout. Many continued formonths toavoid the"evil"
areas, where children had died.
The memories lived on,too, asdisturbing dreams, in-
truding into the children's unguarded minds asthey
slept. Apart from nightmares repeating theshooting it-
self insome way, children were flooded with anxiety
dreams that leftthem apprehensive that they toowould
diesoon. Some children tried tosleep with their eyes
open so they wouldn't dream.
Allofthese reactions arewell known topsychiatrists
asamong the key symptoms ofpost-traumatic stress385/661

disorder, orPTSD. Atthecore ofsuch trauma, says Dr.
Spencer Eth, achild psychiatrist who specializes in
PTSD inchildren, is"the intrusive memory ofthecent-
ralviolent action: thefinal blow with afist, theplunge of
aknife, theblast ofashotgun. The memories areintense
perceptual experiences—the sight, sound, and smell of
gunfire; thescreams orsudden silence ofthevictim; the
splash of blood; the police sirens."
These vivid, terrifying moments, neuroscientists now
say, become memories emblazoned intheemotional cir-
cuitry. The symptoms are, ineffect, signs ofanover-
aroused amygdala impelling the vivid memories ofa
traumatic moment tocontinue tointrude onawareness.
Assuch, the traumatic memories become mental hair
triggers, ready tosound analarm attheleast hint that
thedread moment isabout tohappen once again. This
hair-trigger phenomenon isahallmark ofemotional
trauma ofallkinds, including suffering repeated physic-
al abuse in childhood.
Any traumatizing event can implant such trigger
memories inthe amygdala: afire oranauto accident,
being inanatural catastrophe such asanearthquake or
ahurricane, being raped ormugged. Hundreds ofthou-
sands ofpeople each year endure such disasters, and
many ormost come away with the kind ofemotional
wounding that leaves its imprint on the brain.386/661

Violent acts are more pernicious than natural cata-
strophes such asahurricane because, unlike victims ofa
natural disaster, victims ofviolence feel themselves to
have been intentionally selected asthe target of
malevolence. That fact shatters assumptions about the
trustworthiness ofpeople and thesafety oftheinterper-
sonal world, anassumption natural catastrophes leave
untouched. Within aninstant, thesocial world becomes
adangerous place, one inwhich people are potential
threats to your safety.
Human cruelties stamp their victims' memories with a
template that regards with fear anything vaguely similar
totheassault itself. Aman who was struck ontheback
ofhishead, never seeing hisattacker, was sofrightened
afterward that hewould trytowalk down thestreet dir-
ectly infront ofanoldlady tofeel safe from being hiton
thehead again.2Awoman who was mugged byaman
who gotonanelevator with her and forced her out at
knife point toanunoccupied floor was fearful forweeks
ofgoing into not just elevators, but also thesubway or
any other enclosed space where she might feel trapped;
sheranfrom herbank when shesaw aman puthishand
in his jacket as the mugger had done.
The imprint ofhorror inmemory—and theresulting
hypervigilance—can last alifetime, asastudy ofHolo-
caust survivors found. Close tofifty years after they had387/661

endured semistarvation, the slaughter oftheir loved
ones, and constant terror inNazi death camps, the
haunting memories were still alive. Athird said they felt
generally fearful. Nearly three quarters said they still be-
came anxious atreminders oftheNazi persecution, such
asthesight ofauniform, aknock atthedoor, dogs bark-
ing, orsmoke rising from achimney. About 60percent
said they thought about the Holocaust almost daily,
even after ahalf century; ofthose with active symptoms,
asmany aseight inten still suffered from repeated
nightmares. As one survivor said, "If you've been
through Auschwitz and you don't have nightmares, then
you're not normal."
HORROR FROZEN IN MEMORY
The words ofaforty-eight-year-old Vietnam vet, some
twenty-four years after enduring ahorrifying moment in
a faraway land:
Ican't getthememories out ofmymind! The im-
ages come flooding back invivid detail, triggered by
themost inconsequential things, like adoor slam-
ming, thesight ofanOriental woman, thetouch ofa
bamboo mat, orthe smell ofstir-fried pork. Last
night Iwent tobed, was having agood sleep fora
change. Then inthe early morning astorm front388/661

passed through and there was abolt ofcrackling
thunder. Iawoke instantly, frozen infear. Iamright
back inVietnam, inthemiddle ofthemonsoon sea-
son atmyguard post. Iamsure I'llgethitinthe
next volley and convinced Iwill die. Myhands are
freezing, yetsweat pours from myentire body. Ifeel
each hair ontheback ofmyneck standing onend. I
can't catch mybreath and myheart ispounding. I
smell adamp sulfur smell. Suddenly Isee what's
leftofmybuddy Troy …onabamboo platter, sent
back toourcamp bytheVietcong…. The next bolt of
lightning and clap ofthunder makes me jump so
much that I fall to the floor.3
This horrible memory, vividly fresh and detailed
though more than two decades old, still holds thepower
toinduce thesame fear inthis ex-soldier that hefelton
that fateful day. PTSD represents aperilous lowering of
theneural setpoint foralarm, leaving theperson toreact
tolife's ordinary moments asthough they were emer-
gencies. The hijacking circuit discussed inChapter 2
seems critical inleaving such apowerful brand on
memory: themore brutal, shocking, and horrendous the
events that trigger theamygdala hijacking, themore in-
delible thememory. The neural basis forthese memor-
iesappears tobeasweeping alteration inthechemistry
ofthe brain set inmotion byasingle instance of389/661

overwhelming terror.4While thePTSD findings aretyp-
ically based onthe impact ofasingle episode, similar
results can come from cruelties inflicted over aperiod of
years, asisthe case with children who are sexually,
physically, or emotionally abused.
The most detailed work onthese brain changes isbe-
ing done atthe National Center for Post-Traumatic
Stress Disorder, anetwork ofresearch sites based at
Veterans' Administration hospitals where there arelarge
pools ofthose who suffer from PTSD among theveter-
ansofVietnam and other wars. Itisfrom studies onvets
such asthese that most ofour knowledge ofPTSD has
come. But these insights apply aswell tochildren who
have suffered severe emotional trauma, such asthose at
Cleveland Elementary.
"Victims ofadevastating trauma may never bethe
same biologically," Dr.Dennis Charney told me.5AYale
psychiatrist, Charney isdirector ofclinical neuroscience
attheNational Center. "Itdoes not matter ifitwas the
incessant terror ofcombat, torture, orrepeated abuse in
childhood, oraone-time experience, like being trapped
inahurricane ornearly dying inanauto accident. All
uncontrollable stress can have the same biological
impact."
The operative word isuncontrollable. Ifpeople feel
there issomething they can do inacatastrophic390/661

situation, some control they can exert, nomatter how
minor, they fare farbetter emotionally than dothose
who feel utterly helpless. The element ofhelplessness is
what makes agiven event subjectively overwhelming. As
Dr.John Krystal, director ofthecenter's Laboratory of
Clinical Psychopharmacology, told me, "Say someone
being attacked with aknife knows how todefend himself
and takes action, while another person inthesame pre-
dicament thinks, I'm dead.' The helpless person isthe
one more susceptible toPTSD afterward. It'sthefeeling
that your lifeisindanger and there's nothing you can
dotoescape it—that's the moment the brain change
begins."
Helplessness asthewild card intriggering PTSD has
been shown indozens ofstudies onpairs oflaboratory
rats, each inadifferent cage, each being given
mild—but, toarat, very stressful—electric shocks of
identical severity. Only one rathas alever initscage;
when theratpushes thelever, theshock stops forboth
cages. Over days and weeks, both rats getprecisely the
same amount ofshock. But the ratwith the power to
turn theshocks offcomes through without lasting signs
ofstress. Itisonly inthehelpless one ofthepair that the
stress-induced brain changes occur.6For achild being
shot atonaplayground, seeing hisplaymates bleeding391/661

and dying—or forateacher there, unable tostop the
carnage—that helplessness must have been palpable.
PTSD AS A LIMBIC DISORDER
Ithad been months since ahuge earthquake shook her
out ofbed and sent her yelling inpanic through the
darkened house tofind her four-year-old son. They
huddled forhours intheLos Angeles night cold under a
protective doorway, pinned there without food, water, or
light while wave after wave ofaftershocks tumbled the
ground beneath them. Now, months later, she had
largely recovered from theready panic that gripped her
forthefirst few days afterward, when adoor slamming
could start her shivering with fear. The one lingering
symptom was her inability tosleep, aproblem that
struck only onthose nights her husband was away—as
he had been the night of the quake.
The main symptoms ofsuch learned fearfulness—in-
cluding themost intense kind, PTSD—can beaccounted
forbychanges inthe limbic circuitry focusing onthe
amygdala.7Some ofthekeychanges areinthelocus cer-
uleus, astructure that regulates thebrain's secretion of
two substances called catecholamines: adrenaline and
noradrenaline. These neurochemicals mobilize thebody
foranemergency; thesame catecholamine surge stamps
memories with special strength. InPTSD this system392/661

becomes hyperreactive, secreting extra-large doses of
these brain chemicals inresponse tosituations that hold
little ornothreat butsomehow arereminders oftheori-
ginal trauma, like thechildren atCleveland Elementary
School who panicked when they heard anambulance
siren similar tothose they had heard attheir school
after the shooting.
The locus ceruleus and the amygdala are closely
linked, along with other limbic structures such asthe
hippocampus and hypothalamus; the circuitry forthe
catecholamines extends into the cortex. Changes in
these circuits arethought tounderlie PTSD symptoms,
which include anxiety, fear, hypervigilance, being easily
upset and aroused, readiness forfight orflight, and the
indelible encoding ofintense emotional memories.8Vi-
etnam vets with PTSD, one study found, had 40percent
fewer catecholamine-stopping receptors than did men
without thesymptoms—suggesting that their brains had
undergone alasting change, with their catecholamine
secretion poorly controlled.9
Other changes occur inthecircuit linking thelimbic
brain with thepituitary gland, which regulates release of
CRF, themain stress hormone thebody secretes tomo-
bilize the emergency fight-or-flight response. The
changes lead this hormone tobeoversecreted—particu-
larly in the amygdala, hippocampus, and locus393/661

ceruleus—alerting thebody foranemergency that isnot
there in reality.10
AsDr.Charles Nemeroff, aDuke University psychiat-
rist, told me, "Too much CRF makes you overreact. For
example, ifyou're aVietnam vetwith PTSD and acar
backfires atthemall parking lot, itisthetriggering of
CRF that floods you with thesame feelings asintheori-
ginal trauma: you start sweating, you're scared, you
have chills and theshakes, you may have flashbacks. In
people who hypersecrete CRF, the startle response is
overactive. For example, ifyou sneak upbehind most
people and suddenly clap your hands, you'll see a
startled jump the first time, but not bythe third or
fourth repetition. But people with toomuch CRF don't
habituate: they'll respond asmuch tothefourth clap as
to the first."11
Athird setofchanges occurs inthebrain's opioid sys-
tem, which secretes endorphins toblunt the feeling of
pain. Italso becomes hyperactive. This neural circuit
again involves theamygdala, this time inconcert with a
region inthe cerebral cortex. The opioids are brain
chemicals that arepowerful numbing agents, like opium
and other narcotics that arechemical cousins. When ex-
periencing high levels ofopioids ("the brain's own
morphine"), people have aheightened tolerance for
pain—an effect that has been noted bybattlefield394/661

surgeons, who found severely wounded soldiers needed
lower doses ofnarcotics tohandle their pain than didci-
vilians with far less serious injuries.
Something similar seems tooccur inPTSD.12En-
dorphin changes add anew dimension totheneural mix
triggered byreexposure totrauma: anumbing ofcertain
feelings. This appears toexplain asetof"negative" psy-
chological symptoms long noted inPTSD: anhedonia
(the inability tofeel pleasure) and ageneral emotional
numbness, asense ofbeing cutofffrom lifeorfrom con-
cern about others' feelings. Those close tosuch people
may experience this indifference asalack ofempathy.
Another possible effect may bedissociation, including
the inability toremember crucial minutes, hours, or
even days of the traumatic event.
The neural changes ofPTSD also seem tomake aper-
son more susceptible tofurther traumatizing. Anumber
ofstudies with animals have found that when they were
exposed even tomild stress when young, they were far
more vulnerable than unstressed animals totrauma-in-
duced brain changes later inlife(suggesting theurgent
need totreat children with PTSD). This seems areason
that, exposed tothesame catastrophe, one person goes
ontodevelop PTSD and another does not: theamygdala
isprimed tofind danger, and when lifepresents itonce
again with real danger, its alarm rises to a higher pitch.395/661

Allthese neural changes offer short-term advantages
fordealing with the grim and dire emergencies that
prompt them. Under duress, itisadaptive tobehighly
vigilant, aroused, ready for anything, impervious to
pain, thebody primed forsustained physical demands,
and—for themoment—indifferent towhat might other-
wise beintensely disturbing events. These short-term
advantages, however, become lasting problems when
thebrain changes sothat they become predispositions,
like acarstuck inperpetual high gear. When theamyg-
dala and itsconnected brain regions take onanew set-
point during amoment ofintense trauma, this change in
excitability—this heightened readiness totrigger aneur-
alhijacking—means alloflifeisontheverge ofbecom-
inganemergency, and even aninnocent moment issus-
ceptible to an explosion of fear run amok.
EMOTIONAL RELEARNING
Such traumatic memories seem toremain asfixtures in
brain function because they interfere with subsequent
learning—specifically, with relearning amore normal re-
sponse tothose traumatizing events. Inacquired fear
such asPTSD, themechanisms oflearning and memory
have gone awry; again, itisthe amygdala that iskey
among the brain regions involved. But inovercoming
the learned fear, the neocortex is critical.396/661

Fear conditioning isthe name psychologists use for
theprocess whereby something that isnot intheleast
threatening becomes dreaded asitisassociated in
someone's mind with something frightening. When such
frights are induced inlaboratory animals, Charney
notes, thefears canlast foryears.13The keyregion ofthe
brain that learns, retains, and acts onthis fearful re-
sponse isthe circuit between the thalamus, amygdala,
and prefrontal lobe—the pathway of neural hijacking.
Ordinarily, when someone learns tobefrightened by
something through fear conditioning, thefear subsides
with time. This seems tohappen through anatural re-
learning, asthefeared object isencountered again inthe
absence ofanything truly scary. Thus achild who ac-
quires afear ofdogs because ofbeing chased bya
snarling German shepherd gradually and naturally loses
that fear if,say, she moves next door tosomeone who
owns afriendly shepherd, and spends time playing with
the dog.
InPTSD spontaneous relearning fails tooccur. Char-
ney proposes that this may bedue tothebrain changes
ofPTSD, which aresostrong that, ineffect, theamyg-
dala hijacking occurs every time something even vaguely
reminiscent ofthe original trauma comes along,
strengthening thefear pathway. This means that there is
never atime when what isfeared ispaired with afeeling397/661

ofcalm—the amygdala never relearns amore mild reac-
tion. "Extinction" ofthe fear, heobserves, "appears to
involve anactive learning process," which isitself im-
paired inpeople with PTSD, "leading tothe abnormal
persistence of emotional memories."14
But given the right experiences, even PTSD can lift;
strong emotional memories, and thepatterns ofthought
and reaction that they trigger, can change with time.
This relearning, Charney proposes, iscortical. The ori-
ginal fear ingrained intheamygdala does not goaway
completely; rather, the prefrontal cortex actively sup-
presses theamygdala's command totherest ofthebrain
to respond with fear.
"The question is,how quickly doyou letgooflearned
fear?" asks Richard Davidson, theUniversity ofWiscon-
sinpsychologist who discovered therole oftheleftpre-
frontal cortex asadamper ondistress. Inalaboratory
experiment inwhich people first learned anaversion to
aloud noise—a paradigm forlearned fear, and alower-
key parallel ofPTSD—Davidson found that people who
had more activity intheleft prefrontal cortex gotover
theacquired fear more quickly, again suggesting acor-
tical role in letting go of learned distress.15
REEDUCATING THE EMOTIONAL
BRAIN398/661

One ofthemore encouraging findings about PTSD came
from astudy ofHolocaust survivors, about three quar-
ters ofwhom were found tohave active PTSD symptoms
even ahalf century later. The positive finding was that a
quarter ofthesurvivors who once had been troubled by
such symptoms nolonger had them; somehow thenat-
ural events oftheir lives had counteracted theproblem.
Those who still had thesymptoms showed evidence of
the catecholamine-related brain changes typical of
PTSD—but those who had recovered had no such
changes.16This finding, and others like it,hold out the
promise that the brain changes inPTSD are not in-
delible, and that people can recover from even themost
dire emotional imprinting—in short, that theemotional
circuitry can bereeducated. The good news, then, isthat
traumas asprofound asthose causing PTSD can heal,
and that the route to such healing is through relearning.
One way this emotional healing seems tooccur spon-
taneously—at least inchildren—is through such games
asPurdy. These games, played over and over again, let
children relive atrauma safely, asplay. This allows two
avenues forhealing: ontheone hand, thememory re-
peats inacontext oflow anxiety, desensitizing itand al-
lowing anontraumatized setofresponses tobecome as-
sociated with it.Another route tohealing isthat, intheir
minds, children can magically give thetragedy another,399/661

better outcome: sometimes inplaying Purdy, the chil-
dren killhim, boosting their sense ofmastery over that
traumatic moment of helplessness.
Games like Purdy arepredictable inyounger children
who have been through such overwhelming violence.
These macabre games intraumatized children were first
noted byDr. Lenore Terr, achild psychiatrist inSan
Francisco.17She found such games among children in
Chowchilla, California—just alittle over anhour down
theCentral Valley from Stockton, where Purdy wreaked
such havoc—who in1973 had been kidnapped asthey
rode abus home from asummer day camp. The kidnap-
pers buried thebus, children and all,inanordeal that
lasted twenty-seven hours.
Five years later Terr found thekidnapping still being
reenacted inthe victims' games. Girls, for example,
played symbolic kidnapping games with their Barbie
dolls. One girl, who had hated the feeling ofother
children's urine onherskin asthey layhuddled together
interror, washed herBarbie over and over again. Anoth-
erplayed Traveling Barbie, inwhich Barbie travels
somewhere—it doesn't matter where—and returns
safely, which isthepoint ofthegame. Athird girl's fa-
vorite was ascenario inwhich thedoll isstuck inahole
and suffocates.400/661

While adults who have been through overwhelming
trauma can suffer apsychic numbing, blocking out
memory oforfeeling about the catastrophe, children's
psyches often handle itdifferently. They less often be-
come numb tothetrauma, Terr believes, because they
use fantasy, play, and daydreams torecall and rethink
their ordeals. Such voluntary replays oftrauma seem to
head offthe need for damming them upinpotent
memories that can later burst through asflashbacks. If
thetrauma isminor, such asgoing tothedentist fora
filling, just once ortwice may beenough. But ifit'sover-
whelming, achild needs endless repetitions, replaying
thetrauma over and over again inagrim, monotonous
ritual.
One way togetatthepicture frozen intheamygdala is
through art, which itself isamedium ofthe uncon-
scious. The emotional brain ishighly attuned tosymbol-
icmeanings and tothemode Freud called the"primary
process": the messages ofmetaphor, story, myth, the
arts. This avenue isoften used intreating traumatized
children. Sometimes artcan open theway forchildren
totalk about amoment ofhorror that they would not
dare speak of otherwise.
Spencer Eth, the Los Angeles child psychiatrist who
specializes intreating such children, tells ofafive-year-
oldboy who had been kidnapped with hismother byher401/661

ex-lover. The man brought them toamotel room, where
heordered theboy tohide under ablanket while hebeat
themother todeath. The boy was, understandably, re-
luctant totalk with Eth about themayhem hehad heard
and seen while underneath the blanket. SoEth asked
him to draw a picture—any picture.
The drawing was ofarace-car driver who had astrik-
ingly large pair ofeyes, Eth recalls. The huge eyes Eth
took torefer totheboy's own daring inpeeking atthe
killer. Such hidden references tothetraumatic scene al-
most always appear intheartwork oftraumatized chil-
dren; Eth hasmade having such children draw apicture
the opening gambit intherapy. The potent memories
that preoccupy them intrude intheir artjust asintheir
thoughts. Beyond that, theactofdrawing isitself thera-
peutic, beginning the process of mastering the trauma.
EMOTIONAL RELEARNING AND
RECOVERY FROM TRAUMA
Irene had gone onadate that ended inattempted
rape. Though she had fought offthe attacker, he
continued toplague her: harassing her with ob-
scene phone calls, making threats ofviolence, call-
ing inthe middle ofthe night, stalking her and
watching her every move. Once, when she tried to
getthepolice tohelp, they dismissed her problem402/661

astrivial, since "nothing had really happened." By
thetime shecame fortherapy Irene had symptoms
ofPTSD, had given upsocializing atall,and felta
prisoner in her own house.
Irene's case iscited byDr. Judith Lewis Herman, a
Harvard psychiatrist whose groundbreaking work out-
lines the steps torecovery from trauma. Herman sees
three stages: attaining asense ofsafety, remembering
thedetails ofthetrauma and mourning theloss ithas
brought, and finally reestablishing anormal life. There
isabiological logic totheordering ofthese steps, aswe
shall see: this sequence seems toreflect how theemo-
tional brain learns once again that lifeneed not bere-
garded as an emergency about to happen.
The first step, regaining asense ofsafety, presumably
translates tofinding ways tocalm the too-fearful, too
easily triggered emotional circuits enough toallow re-
learning.18Often this begins with helping patients un-
derstand that their jumpiness and nightmares, hypervi-
gilance and panics, arepart ofthesymptoms ofPTSD.
This understanding makes the symptoms themselves
less frightening.
Another early step istohelp patients regain some
sense ofcontrol over what ishappening tothem, adirect
unlearning ofthelesson ofhelplessness that thetrauma
itself imparted. Irene, for example, mobilized her403/661

friends and family toform abuffer between herand her
stalker, and was able to get the police to intervene.
The sense inwhich PTSD patients feel "unsafe" goes
beyond fears that dangers lurk around them; their in-
security begins more intimately, inthefeeling that they
have nocontrol over what ishappening intheir body
and totheir emotions. This isunderstandable, given the
hair trigger for emotional hijacking that PTSD creates by
hypersensitizing the amygdala circuitry.
Medication offers one way torestore patients' sense
that they need not besoatthemercy oftheemotional
alarms that flood them with inexplicable anxiety, keep
them sleepless, orpepper their sleep with nightmares.
Pharmacologists are hoping one day totailor medica-
tions that will target precisely theeffects ofPTSD onthe
amygdala and connected neurotransmitter circuits. For
now, though, there are medications that counter only
some ofthese changes, notably theantidepressants that
actontheserotonin system, and beta-blockers like pro-
pranolol, which block theactivation ofthesympathetic
nervous system. Patients also may learn relaxation tech-
niques that give them theability tocounter their edgi-
ness and nervousness. Aphysiological calm opens a
window forhelping the brutalized emotional circuitry
rediscover that lifeisnotathreat and forgiving back to404/661

patients some ofthesense ofsecurity they had intheir
lives before the trauma happened.
Another step inhealing involves retelling and recon-
structing thestory ofthetrauma intheharbor ofthat
safety, allowing theemotional circuitry toacquire anew,
more realistic understanding ofand response tothe
traumatic memory and itstriggers. Aspatients retell the
horrific details ofthetrauma, thememory starts tobe
transformed, both initsemotional meaning and inits
effects ontheemotional brain. The pace ofthis retelling
isdelicate; ideally itmimics thepace that occurs natur-
ally inthose people who areable torecover from trauma
without suffering PTSD. Inthese cases there often
seems tobeaninner clock that "doses" people with in-
trusive memories that relive the trauma, intercut with
weeks ormonths when they remember hardly anything
of the horrible events.19
This alternation ofreimmersion and respite seems to
allow foraspontaneous review ofthe trauma and re-
learning ofemotional response toit.For those whose
PTSD ismore intractable, says Herman, retelling their
tale cansometimes trigger overwhelming fears, inwhich
case the therapist should ease the pace tokeep the
patient's reactions within abearable range, one that will
not disrupt the relearning.405/661

The therapist encourages thepatient toretell thetrau-
matic events asvividly aspossible, like ahorror home
video, retrieving every sordid detail. This includes not
just thespecifics ofwhat they saw, heard, smelled, and
felt, butalso their reactions—the dread, disgust, nausea.
The goal here istoput theentire memory into words,
which means capturing parts ofthe memory that may
have been dissociated and soareabsent from conscious
recall. By putting sensory details and feelings into
words, presumably memories are brought more under
control oftheneocortex, where thereactions they kindle
can berendered more understandable and somore
manageable. The emotional relearning atthis point is
largely accomplished through reliving the events and
their emotions, but this time insurroundings ofsafety
and security, inthecompany ofatrusted therapist. This
begins toimpart atelling lesson tothe emotional cir-
cuitry—that security, rather than unremitting terror, can
be experienced in tandem with the trauma memories.
The five-year-old who drew the picture ofthe giant
eyes after hewitnessed thegrisly murder ofhismother
didnotmake any more drawings after that first one; in-
stead heand histherapist, Spencer Eth, played games,
creating abond ofrapport. Only slowly didhebegin to
retell thestory ofthemurder, atfirst inastereotyped
way, reciting each detail exactly thesame ineach telling.406/661

Gradually, though, hisnarrative became more open and
free-flowing, hisbody less tense ashetold it.Atthe
same time hisnightmares ofthescene came less often,
anindication, says Eth, ofsome "trauma mastery."
Gradually their talk moved away from thefears left by
thetrauma tomore ofwhat was happening intheboy's
day-to-day lifeasheadjusted toanew home with his
father. And finally theboy was able totalk just about his
daily life as the hold of the trauma faded.
Finally, Herman finds that patients need tomourn the
loss thetrauma brought—whether aninjury, thedeath
ofaloved one orarupture inarelationship, regret over
some step not taken tosave someone, orjust theshat-
tering ofconfidence that people can betrusted. The
mourning that ensues while retelling such painful events
serves acrucial purpose: itmarks theability toletgoof
thetrauma itself tosome degree. Itmeans that instead
ofbeing perpetually captured bythis moment inthe
past, patients can start tolook ahead, even tohope, and
torebuild anew lifefree ofthetrauma's grip. Itisasif
theconstant recycling and reliving ofthetrauma's terror
bytheemotional circuitry were aspell that could finally
belifted. Every siren need not bring aflood offear;
every sound inthenight need notcompel aflashback to
terror.407/661

Aftereffects oroccasional recurrences ofsymptoms of-
ten persist, says Herman, but there are specific signs
that the trauma has largely been overcome. These in-
clude reducing the physiological symptoms toaman-
ageable level, and being able tobear thefeelings associ-
ated with memories ofthetrauma. Especially significant
isnolonger having trauma memories erupt atuncon-
trollable moments, butrather being able torevisit them
voluntarily, like any other memory—and, perhaps more
important, toput them aside like any other memory.
Finally, itmeans rebuilding anew life, with strong,
trusting relationships and abelief system that finds
meaning even inaworld where such injustice can hap-
pen.20Allofthese together are markers ofsuccess in
reeducating the emotional brain.
PSYCHOTHERAPY AS AN EMOTIONAL
TUTORIAL
Fortunately, the catastrophic moments inwhich trau-
matic memories are emblazoned are rare during the
course oflifeformost ofus.But thesame circuitry that
can beseen soboldly imprinting traumatic memories is
presumably atwork inlife's quieter moments, too. The
more ordinary travails ofchildhood, such asbeing
chronically ignored and deprived ofattention ortender-
ness byone's parents, abandonment orloss, orsocial408/661

rejection may never reach thefever pitch oftrauma, but
they surely leave their imprint ontheemotional brain,
creating distortions—and tears and rages—in intimate
relationships later inlife. IfPTSD can behealed, socan
the more muted emotional scars that somany ofus
bear; that isthetask ofpsychotherapy. And, ingeneral,
itisinlearning todeal skillfully with these loaded reac-
tions that emotional intelligence comes into play.
The dynamic between the amygdala and the more
fully informed reactions oftheprefrontal cortex may of-
feraneuroanatomical model forhow psychotherapy re-
shapes deep, maladaptive emotional patterns. AsJoseph
LeDoux, the neuroscientist who discovered the
amygdala's hair-trigger role inemotional outbursts,
conjectures, "Once your emotional system learns
something, itseems you never letitgo.What therapy
does isteach you tocontrol it—it teaches your neocortex
how toinhibit your amygdala. The propensity toactis
suppressed, while your basic emotion about itremains
in a subdued form."
Given thebrain architecture that underlies emotional
relearning, what seems toremain, even after successful
psychotherapy, isavestigial reaction, aremnant ofthe
original sensitivity orfear attheroot ofatroubling emo-
tional pattern.21The prefrontal cortex can refine orput
thebrakes ontheamygdala's impulse torampage, but409/661

cannot keep itfrom reacting inthe first place. Thus
while wecannot decide when wehave our emotional
outbursts, wehave more control over how long they
last. Aquicker recovery time from such outbursts may
well be one mark of emotional maturity.
Over thecourse oftherapy, what seems tochange in
the main are the responses that people make once an
emotional reaction istriggered—but the tendency for
the reaction tobetriggered inthe first place does not
disappear entirely. Evidence forthis comes from aseries
ofstudies ofpsychotherapy conducted byLester Lubor-
sky and his colleagues at the University of
Pennsylvania.22They analyzed the main relationship
conflicts that brought dozens ofpatients into psycho-
therapy—issues such asadeep craving tobeaccepted or
find intimacy, orafear ofbeing afailure orbeing overly
dependent. They then carefully analyzed the typical
(always self-defeating) responses the patients made
when these wishes and fears were activated intheir rela-
tionships—responses such asbeing too demanding,
which created abacklash ofanger orcoldness intheoth-
erperson, orwithdrawing inself-defense from ananti-
cipated slight, leaving the other person miffed bythe
seeming rebuff. During such ill-fated encounters, the
patients, understandably, feltflooded byupsetting feel-
ings—hopelessness and sadness, resentment and anger,410/661

tension and fear, guilt and self-blame, and soon.
Whatever thespecific pattern ofthepatient, itseemed
toshow upinmost every important relationship, wheth-
erwith aspouse orlover, achild orparent, orpeers and
bosses at work.
Over thecourse oflong-term therapy, however, these
patients made two kinds ofchanges: their emotional re-
action tothetriggering events became less distressing,
even calm orbemused, and their overt responses be-
came more effective ingetting what they truly wanted
from the relationship. What did not change, however,
was their underlying wish orfear, and theinitial twinge
offeeling. Bythe time the patients had but afew ses-
sions left intherapy, the encounters they told about
showed they had only half asmany negative emotional
reactions compared towhen they first started therapy,
and were twice aslikely togetthepositive response they
deeply desired from theother person. But what didnot
change atallwas theparticular sensitivity attheroot of
these needs.
Inbrain terms, wecan speculate, thelimbic circuitry
would send alarm signals inresponse tocues ofafeared
event, buttheprefrontal cortex and related zones would
have learned anew, more healthy response. Inshort,
emotional lessons—even the most deeply implanted411/661

habits ofthe heart learned inchildhood—can bere-
shaped. Emotional learning is lifelong.412/661

14
Temperament Is Not Destiny
Somuch foraltering emotional patterns that have been
learned. But what about those responses that aregivens
ofour genetic endowment—what ofchanging the ha-
bitual reactions ofpeople who bynature are, say, highly
volatile, orpainfully shy? This range ofthe emotional
compass falls under the sweep oftemperament, the
background murmur offeelings that mark ourbasic dis-
position. Temperament can bedefined interms ofthe
moods that typify ouremotional life. Tosome degree we
each have such afavored emotional range; temperament
isagiven atbirth, part ofthe genetic lottery that has
compelling force inthe unfolding oflife. Every parent
has seen this: from birth achild will becalm and placid
ortesty and difficult. The question iswhether such a
biologically determined emotional setcanbechanged by
experience. Does our biology fixour emotional destiny,
orcan even aninnately shychild grow into amore con-
fident adult?
The clearest answer tothis question comes from the
work ofJerome Kagan, theeminent developmental psy-
chologist atHarvard University.1Kagan posits that there
areatleast four temperamental types—timid, bold, up-
beat, and melancholy—and that each isdue toa

different pattern ofbrain activity. There arelikely innu-
merable differences intemperamental endowment, each
based ininnate differences inemotional circuitry; for
any given emotion people can differ inhow easily ittrig-
gers, how long itlasts, how intense itbecomes. Kagan's
work concentrates onone ofthese patterns: thedimen-
sion oftemperament that runs from boldness to
timidity.
For decades mothers have been bringing their infants
and toddlers toKagan's Laboratory forChild Develop-
ment onthe fourteenth floor ofHarvard's William
James Hall totake part inhisstudies ofchild develop-
ment. Itwas there that Kagan and hiscoresearchers no-
ticed early signs ofshyness inagroup oftwenty-one-
month-old toddlers brought forexperimental observa-
tions. Infree play with other toddlers, some were bubbly
and spontaneous, playing with other babies without the
least hesitation. Others, though, were uncertain and
hesitant, hanging back, clinging totheir mothers, quietly
watching the others atplay. Almost four years later,
when these same children were inkindergarten, Kagan's
group observed them again. Over theintervening years
none oftheoutgoing children had become timid, while
two thirds of the timid ones were still reticent.
Kagan finds that children who areoverly sensitive and
fearful grow into shy and timorous adults; from birth414/661

about 15to20percent ofchildren are"behaviorally in-
hibited," ashecalls them. Asinfants, these children are
timid about anything unfamiliar. This makes them
finicky about eating new foods, reluctant toapproach
new animals orplaces, and shyaround strangers. Italso
renders them sensitive inother ways—for example,
prone toguilt and self-reproach. These arethechildren
who become paralyzingly anxious insocial situations: in
class and ontheplayground, when meeting new people,
whenever thesocial spotlight shines onthem. Asadults,
they areprone tobewallflowers, and morbidly afraid of
having to give a speech or perform in public.
Tom, one oftheboys inKagan's study, istypical ofthe
shy type. At every measurement through child-
hood—two, five, and seven years ofage—Tom was
among the most timid children. When interviewed at
thirteen, Tom was tense and stiff, biting his lipand
wringing hishands, hisface impassive, breaking into a
tight smile only when talking about hisgirlfriend; his
answers were short, hismanner subdued.2Throughout
the middle years ofchildhood, until about age eleven,
Tom remembers being painfully shy, breaking into a
sweat whenever hehad toapproach playmates. Hewas
also troubled byintense fears: ofhis house burning
down, ofdiving into aswimming pool, ofbeing alone in
the dark. Infrequent nightmares, hewas attacked by415/661

monsters. Though hehas felt less shy inthe last two
years orso,hestill feels some anxiety around other chil-
dren, and his worries now center ondoing well at
school, even though heisinthe top 5percent ofhis
class. The son ofascientist, Tom finds acareer inthat
field appealing, since itsrelative solitude fitshisintro-
verted inclinations.
Bycontrast, Ralph was one ofthe boldest and most
outgoing children atevery age. Always relaxed and talk-
ative, atthirteen hesatback atease inhischair, had no
nervous mannerisms, and spoke inaconfident, friendly
tone, asthough theinterviewer were apeer—though the
difference intheir ages was twenty-five years. During
childhood hehad only two short-lived fears—one of
dogs, after abigdog jumped onhim atage three, and
another offlying, when heheard about plane crashes at
age seven. Sociable and popular, Ralph has never
thought of himself as shy.
The timid children seem tocome into lifewith aneur-
alcircuitry that makes them more reactive toeven mild
stress—from birth, their hearts beat faster than other in-
fants' inresponse tostrange ornovel situations. At
twenty-one months, when the reticent toddlers were
holding back from playing, heart rate monitors showed
that their hearts were racing with anxiety. That easily
aroused anxiety seems tounderlie their lifelong416/661

timidity: they treat any new person orsituation as
though itwere apotential threat. Perhaps asaresult,
middle-aged women who remember having been espe-
cially shyinchildhood, when compared with their more
outgoing peers, tend togothrough lifewith more fears,
worries, and guilt, and tosuffer more from stress-re-
lated problems such asmigraine headaches, irritable
bowel, and other stomach problems.3
THE NEUROCHEMISTRY OF TIMIDITY
The difference between cautious Tom and bold Ralph,
Kagan believes, liesintheexcitability ofaneural circuit
centered ontheamygdala. Kagan proposes that people
like Tom, who areprone tofearfulness, areborn with a
neurochemistry that makes this circuit easily aroused,
and sothey avoid theunfamiliar, shy away from uncer-
tainty, and suffer anxiety. Those who, like Ralph, have a
nervous system calibrated with amuch higher threshold
foramygdala arousal, are less easily frightened, more
naturally outgoing, and eager toexplore new places and
meet new people.
Anearly clue towhich pattern achild has inherited is
how difficult and irritable she isasaninfant, and how
distressed she becomes when confronted with
something orsomeone unfamiliar. While about one in417/661

five infants falls into the timid category, about two in
five have the bold temperament—at least at birth.
Part ofKagan's evidence comes from observations of
cats that areunusually timid. About one inseven house-
cats has apattern offearfulness akin tothe timid
children's: they draw away from novelty (instead ofex-
hibiting acat's legendary curiosity), they arereluctant to
explore new territory, and they attack only thesmallest
rodents, being tootimid totake onlarger ones that their
more courageous feline peers would pursue with gusto.
Direct brain probes have found that portions ofthe
amygdala areunusually excitable inthese timid cats, es-
pecially when, forinstance, they hear athreatening howl
from another cat.
The cats' timidity blossoms atabout one month ofage,
which isthepoint when their amygdala matures enough
totake control ofthe brain circuitry toapproach or
avoid. One month inkitten brain maturation isakin to
eight months inahuman infant; itisateight ornine
months, Kagan notes, that "stranger" fear appears inba-
bies—if thebaby's mother leaves aroom and there isa
stranger present, the result istears. Timid children,
Kagan postulates, may have inherited chronically high
levels ofnorepinephrine orother brain chemicals that
activate theamygdala and socreate alow threshold of
excitability, making the amygdala more easily triggered.418/661

One sign ofthis heightened sensitivity isthat, forex-
ample, when young men and women who were quite shy
inchildhood aremeasured inalaboratory while exposed
tostresses such asharsh smells, their heart rate stays el-
evated much longer than for their more outgoing
peers—a sign that surging norepinephrine iskeeping
their amygdala excited and, through connected neural
circuits, their sympathetic nervous system aroused.4
Kagan finds that timid children have higher levels ofre-
activity across therange ofsympathetic nervous system
indices, from higher resting blood pressure and greater
dilation ofthepupils, tohigher levels ofnorepinephrine
markers in their urine.
Silence isanother barometer oftimidity. Whenever
Kagan's team observed shyand bold children inanatur-
alsetting—in their kindergarten classes, with other chil-
dren they did not know, ortalking with aninterview-
er—the timid children talked less. One timid kinder-
gartener would saynothing when other children spoke
toher, and spent most ofherday just watching theoth-
ersplay. Kagan speculates that atimid silence inthe
face ofnovelty oraperceived threat isasign oftheactiv-
ityofaneural circuit running between theforebrain, the
amygdala, and nearby limbic structures that control the
ability tovocalize (these same circuits make us"choke
up" under stress).419/661

These sensitive children areathigh risk fordevelop-
ingananxiety disorder such aspanic attacks, starting as
early assixth orseventh grade. Inone study of754 boys
and girls inthose grades, 44were found tohave already
suffered atleast one episode ofpanic, ortohave had
several preliminary symptoms. These anxiety episodes
were usually triggered bythe ordinary alarms ofearly
adolescence, such asafirst date orabigexam—alarms
that most children handle without developing more seri-
ous problems. But teenagers who were timid bytem-
perament and who had been unusually frightened by
new situations gotpanic symptoms such asheart palpit-
ations, shortness ofbreath, orachoking feeling, along
with the feeling that something horrible was going to
happen tothem, like going crazy ordying. The research-
ersbelieve that while theepisodes were not significant
enough torate the psychiatric diagnosis "panic dis-
order," they signal that these teenagers would beat
greater risk fordeveloping the disorder asthe years
went on; many adults who suffer panic attacks saythe
attacks began during their teen years.5
The onset oftheanxiety attacks was closely tied topu-
berty. Girls with few signs ofpuberty reported nosuch
attacks, but ofthose who had gone through puberty
about 8percent said they had experienced panic. Once
they have had such an attack, they are prone to420/661

developing thedread ofarecurrence that leads people
with panic disorder to shrink from life.
NOTHING BOTHERS ME: THE
CHEERFUL TEMPERAMENT
Inthe1920s, asayoung woman, myaunt June lefther
home inKansas City and ventured onherown toShang-
hai—a dangerous journey forasolitary woman inthose
years. There June met and married aBritish detective in
thecolonial police force ofthat international center of
commerce and intrigue. When the Japanese captured
Shanghai attheoutset ofWorld War II,myaunt and her
husband were interned intheprison camp depicted in
thebook and movie Empire oftheSun.After surviving
five horrific years intheprison camp, she and herhus-
band had, literally, lost everything. Penniless, they were
repatriated to British Columbia.
Iremember asachild first meeting June, anebullient
elderly woman whose life had followed aremarkable
course. Inher later years she suffered astroke that left
her partly paralyzed; after aslow and arduous recovery
she was able towalk again, but with alimp. Inthose
years Iremember going foranouting with June, then in
herseventies. Somehow shewandered off,and after sev-
eral minutes Iheard afeeble yell—June crying forhelp.
She had fallen and could notgetuponherown. Irushed421/661

tohelp herup,and asIdidso,instead ofcomplaining or
lamenting she laughed ather predicament. Her only
comment was alighthearted "Well, atleast Ican walk
again."
Bynature, some people's emotions seem, like my
aunt's, togravitate toward the positive pole; these
people arenaturally upbeat and easygoing, while others
are dour and melancholy. This dimension oftempera-
ment—ebullience atone end, melancholy atthe oth-
er—seems linked totherelative activity oftheright and
left prefrontal areas, the upper poles ofthe emotional
brain. That insight hasemerged largely from thework of
Richard Davidson, aUniversity ofWisconsin psycholo-
gist. Hediscovered that people who have greater activity
inthe left frontal lobe, compared tothe right, are by
temperament cheerful; they typically take delight in
people and inwhat life presents them with, bouncing
back from setbacks asmyaunt June did. But those with
relatively greater activity ontheright side aregiven to
negativity and sour moods, and areeasily fazed bylife's
difficulties; inasense, they seem tosuffer because they
cannot turn off their worries and depressions.
Inone ofDavidson's experiments volunteers with the
most pronounced activity intheleft frontal areas were
compared with thefifteen who showed most activity on
the right. Those with marked right frontal activity422/661

showed adistinctive pattern ofnegativity onapersonal-
itytest: they fitthe caricature portrayed byWoody
Allen's comedy roles, thealarmist who sees catastrophe
inthe smallest thing—prone tofunks and moodiness,
and suspicious ofaworld they saw asfraught with over-
whelming difficulties and lurking dangers. Bycontrast
totheir melancholy counterparts, those with stronger
leftfrontal activity saw theworld very differently. Soci-
able and cheerful, they typically felt asense ofenjoy-
ment, were frequently ingood moods, had astrong
sense ofself-confidence, and feltrewardingly engaged in
life. Their scores onpsychological tests suggested a
lower lifetime risk fordepression and other emotional
disorders.6
People who have ahistory ofclinical depression,
Davidson found, had lower levels ofbrain activity inthe
leftfrontal lobe, and more ontheright, than didpeople
who had never been depressed. Hefound thesame pat-
tern inpatients newly diagnosed with depression.
Davidson speculates that people who overcome depres-
sion have learned toincrease thelevel ofactivity intheir
leftprefrontal lobe—a speculation awaiting experiment-
al testing.
Though hisresearch isonthe 30percent orsoof
people attheextremes, just about anyone can beclassi-
fied bytheir brain wave patterns astending toward one423/661

ortheother type, says Davidson. The contrast intem-
perament between the morose and the cheerful shows
upinmany ways, large and small. For example, inone
experiment volunteers watched short film clips. Some
were amusing—a gorilla taking abath, apuppy atplay.
Others, like aninstructional film fornurses featuring
grisly details ofsurgery, were quite distressing. The
right-hemisphere, somber folks found thehappy movies
only mildly amusing, butthey feltextreme fear and dis-
gust inreaction tothe surgical blood and gore. The
cheerful group had minimal reactions tothe surgery;
their strongest reactions were ofdelight when they saw
the upbeat films.
Thus weseem bytemperament primed torespond to
lifeineither anegative orapositive emotional register.
The tendency toward amelancholy orupbeat tempera-
ment—like that toward timidity orboldness—emerges
within thefirst year oflife, afact that strongly suggests
ittooisgenetically determined. Like most ofthebrain,
the frontal lobes are still maturing inthe first few
months oflife, and sotheir activity cannot bereliably
measured until theage oftenmonths orso.But inin-
fants that young, Davidson found that theactivity level
ofthe frontal lobes predicted whether they would cry
when their mothers left theroom. The correlation was
virtually 100 percent: ofdozens ofinfants tested this424/661

way, every infant who cried had more brain activity on
theright side, while those who didnothad more activity
on the left.
Still, even ifthis basic dimension oftemperament is
laid down from birth, orvery nearly from birth, those of
uswho have the morose pattern are not necessarily
doomed togothrough lifebrooding and crotchety. The
emotional lessons ofchildhood can have aprofound im-
pact ontemperament, either amplifying ormuting an
innate predisposition. The great plasticity ofthebrain in
childhood means that experiences during those years
can have alasting impact onthe sculpting ofneural
pathways fortherest oflife. Perhaps thebest illustration
ofthekinds ofexperiences that can alter temperament
forthe better isinanobservation that emerged from
Kagan's research with timid children.
TAMING THE OVEREXCITABLE
AMYGDALA
The encouraging news from Kagan's studies isthat not
allfearful infants grow uphanging back from life—tem-
perament isnot destiny. The overexcitable amygdala
can betamed, with theright experiences. What makes
thedifference aretheemotional lessons and responses
children learn asthey grow. For the timid child, what
matters atthe outset ishow they are treated bytheir425/661

parents, and sohow they learn tohandle their natural
timidness. Those parents who engineer gradual em-
boldening experiences fortheir children offer them what
may be a lifelong corrective to their fearfulness.
About one inthree infants who come into theworld
with allthesigns ofanoverexcitable amygdala have lost
their timidness bythe time they reach kindergarten.7
From observations ofthese once-fearful children at
home, itisclear that parents, and especially mothers,
play amajor role inwhether aninnately timid child
grows bolder with time orcontinues toshy away from
novelty and become upset bychallenge. Kagan's re-
search team found that some ofthemothers held tothe
philosophy that they should protect their timid toddlers
from whatever was upsetting; others felt that itwas
more important tohelp their timid child learn how to
cope with these upsetting moments, and soadapt to
life's small struggles. The protective belief seems tohave
abetted the fearfulness, probably bydepriving the
youngsters ofopportunities forlearning how toover-
come their fears. The "learn toadapt" philosophy of
childrearing seems tohave helped fearful children be-
come braver.
Observations inthe homes when the babies were
about sixmonths oldfound that theprotective mothers,
trying tosoothe their infants, picked them upand held426/661

them when they fretted orcried, and didsolonger than
those mothers who tried tohelp their infants learn to
master these moments ofupset. The ratio oftimes the
infants were held when calm and when upset showed
that the protective mothers held their infants much
longer during the upsets than the calm periods.
Another difference emerged when the infants were
around one year old: theprotective mothers were more
lenient and indirect insetting limits fortheir toddlers
when they were doing something that might beharmful,
such asmouthing anobject they might swallow. The
other mothers, bycontrast, were emphatic, setting firm
limits, giving direct commands, blocking thechild's ac-
tions, insisting on obedience.
Why should firmness lead toareduction infearful-
ness? Kagan speculates that there issomething learned
when ababy has hissteady crawl toward what seems to
him anintriguing object (but tohismother adangerous
one) interrupted byherwarning, "Get away from that!"
The infant issuddenly forced todeal with amild uncer-
tainty. The repetition ofthis challenge hundreds and
hundreds oftimes during thefirst year oflifegives the
infant continual rehearsals, insmall doses, ofmeeting
theunexpected inlife. For fearful children that ispre-
cisely theencounter that has tobemastered, and man-
ageable doses are just right for learning the lesson.427/661

When the encounter takes place with parents who,
though loving, donot rush topick upand soothe the
toddler over every little upset, hegradually learns to
manage such moments onhisown. Byage two, when
these formerly fearful toddlers are brought back to
Kagan's laboratory, they arefarless likely tobreak out
into tears when astranger frowns atthem, oranexperi-
menter puts a blood-pressure cuff around their arm.
Kagan's conclusion: "Itappears that mothers who
protect their high[ly] reactive infants from frustration
and anxiety inthe hope ofeffecting abenevolent out-
come seem toexacerbate the infant's uncertainty and
produce theopposite effect."8Inother words, thepro-
tective strategy backfires bydepriving timid toddlers of
thevery opportunity tolearn tocalm themselves inthe
face oftheunfamiliar, and sogain some small mastery
oftheir fears. Attheneurological level, presumably, this
means their prefrontal circuits missed the chance to
learn alternate responses toknee-jerk fear; instead,
their tendency forunbridled fearfulness may have been
strengthened simply through repetition.
Incontrast, asKagan told me, "Those children who
had become less timid bykindergarten seem tohave had
parents who put gentle pressure onthem tobemore
outgoing. Although this temperamental trait seems
slightly harder than others tochange—probably because428/661

ofitsphysiological basis—no human quality isbeyond
change."
Throughout childhood some timid children grow
bolder asexperience continues tomold thekey neural
circuitry. One ofthesigns that atimid child will bemore
likely toovercome this natural inhibition ishaving a
higher level ofsocial competence: being cooperative and
getting along with other children; being empathic, prone
togiving and sharing, and considerate; and being able to
develop close friendships. These traits marked agroup
ofchildren first identified ashaving atimid tempera-
ment atagefour, who shook itoffbythetime they were
ten years old.9
Bycontrast, those timid four-year-olds whose tem-
perament changed little over thesame sixyears tended
tobeless able emotionally: crying and falling apart un-
derstress more easily; being emotionally inappropriate;
being fearful, sulky, orwhiny; overreacting tominor
frustration with anger; having trouble delaying gratifica-
tion; being overly sensitive tocriticism, ormistrustful.
These emotional lapses are, ofcourse, likely tomean
their relationships with other children will betroubled,
should they beable toovercome their initial reluctance
to engage.
Bycontrast, itiseasy toseewhy themore emotionally
competent—though shy by temperament—children429/661

spontaneously outgrew their timidity. Being more so-
cially skilled, they were farmore likely tohave asucces-
sion ofpositive experiences with other children. Even if
they were tentative about, say, speaking toanew play-
mate, once theicewas broken they were able toshine
socially. The regular repetition ofsuch social success
over many years would naturally tend tomake thetimid
more sure of themselves.
These advances toward boldness are encouraging;
they suggest that ever innate emotional patterns can
change tosome degree. Achild who comes into the
world easily frightened can learn tobecalmer, oreven
outgoing, intheface oftheunfamiliar. Fearfulness—or
any other temperament—may bepart ofthe biological
givens ofour emotional lives, butwearenotnecessarily
limited toaspecific emotional menu byour inherited
traits. There isarange ofpossibility even within genetic
constraints. Asbehavioral geneticists observe, genes
alone donot determine behavior; our environment, es-
pecially what we experience and learn aswe grow,
shapes how atemperamental predisposition expresses
itself aslifeunfolds. Our emotional capacities arenota
given; with the right learning, they can beimproved.
The reasons for this lieinhow the human brain
matures.430/661

CHILDHOOD: A WINDOW OF
OPPORTUNITY
The human brain isbynomeans fully formed atbirth. It
continues toshape itself through life, with themost in-
tense growth occurring during childhood. Children are
born with many more neurons than their mature brain
will retain; through aprocess known as"pruning" the
brain actually loses the neuronal connections that are
less used, and forms strong connections inthose syn-
aptic circuits that have been utilized themost. Pruning,
bydoing away with extraneous synapses, improves the
signal-to-noise ratio inthebrain byremoving thecause
ofthe"noise." This process isconstant and quick; syn-
aptic connections can form inamatter ofhours ordays.
Experience, particularly in childhood, sculpts the brain.
The classic demonstration oftheimpact ofexperience
onbrain growth was byNobel Prize-winners Thorsten
Wiesel and David Hubel, both neuroscientists.10They
showed that incats and monkeys, there was acritical
period during thefirst few months oflifeforthedevel-
opment ofthesynapses that carry signals from theeye
tothevisual cortex, where those signals areinterpreted.
Ifone eyewas kept closed during that period, thenum-
ber ofsynapses from that eye tothe visual cortex
dwindled away, while those from the open eye multi-
plied. Ifafter the critical period ended the closed eye431/661

was reopened, theanimal was functionally blind inthat
eye. Although nothing was wrong with the eye itself,
there were toofew circuits tothevisual cortex forsig-
nals from that eye to be interpreted.
Inhumans thecorresponding critical period forvision
lasts forthefirst sixyears oflife. During this time nor-
mal seeing stimulates the formation ofincreasingly
complex neural circuitry forvision that begins intheeye
and ends inthe visual cortex. Ifachild's eye istaped
closed foreven afewweeks, itcanproduce ameasurable
deficit inthe visual capacity ofthat eye. Ifachild has
had one eyeclosed forseveral months during this peri-
od,and later has itrestored, that eye's vision fordetail
will be impaired.
Avivid demonstration oftheimpact ofexperience on
the developing brain isinstudies of"rich" and "poor"
rats.11The "rich" rats lived insmall groups incages with
plenty ofratdiversions such asladders and treadmills.
The "poor" rats lived incages that were similar butbar-
renand lacking diversions. Over aperiod ofmonths the
neocortices oftherich rats developed farmore complex
networks ofsynaptic circuits interconnecting theneur-
ons; thepoor rats' neuronal circuitry was sparse bycom-
parison. The difference was sogreat that therich rats'
brains were heavier, and, perhaps notsurprisingly, they
were farsmarter atsolving mazes than the poor rats.432/661

Similar experiments with monkeys show these differ-
ences between those "rich" and "poor" inexperience,
and the same effect is sure to occur in humans.
Psychotherapy—that is,systematic emotional relearn-
ing—stands asacase inpoint fortheway experience can
both change emotional patterns and shape the brain.
The most dramatic demonstration comes from astudy
ofpeople being treated forobsessive-compulsive dis-
order.12One ofthemore common compulsions ishand
washing, which can bedone sooften, even hundreds of
times inaday, that theperson's skin cracks. PET scan
studies show that obsessive-compulsives have greater
than normal activity in the prefrontal lobes.13
Half ofthepatients inthestudy received thestandard
drug treatment, fluoxetine (better known bythebrand
name Prozac), and half gotbehavior therapy. During the
therapy they were systematically exposed totheobject
oftheir obsession orcompulsion without performing it;
patients with hand-washing compulsions were put ata
sink, but not allowed towash. Atthe same time they
learned toquestion the fears and dreads that spurred
them on—for example, that failure towash would mean
they would get adisease and die. Gradually, through
months ofsuch sessions, thecompulsions faded, just as
they did with the medication.433/661

The remarkable finding, though, was aPET scan test
showing that thebehavior therapy patients had assigni-
ficant adecrease intheactivity ofakeypart oftheemo-
tional brain, the caudate nucleus, asdid the patients
successfully treated with thedrug fluoxetine. Their ex-
perience had changed brain function—and relieved
symptoms—as effectively as the medication!
CRUCIAL WINDOWS
Ofallspecies wehumans take thelongest forourbrains
tofully mature. While each area ofthebrain develops at
adifferent rate during childhood, theonset ofpuberty
marks one ofthe most sweeping periods ofpruning
throughout the brain. Several brain areas critical for
emotional lifeareamong theslowest tomature. While
the sensory areas mature during early childhood, and
thelimbic system bypuberty, thefrontal lobes—seat of
emotional self-control, understanding, and artful re-
sponse—continue todevelop into late adolescence, until
somewhere between sixteen and eighteen years of age.14
The habits ofemotional management that are re-
peated over and over again during childhood and the
teenage years will themselves help mold this circuitry.
This makes childhood acrucial window ofopportunity
forshaping lifelong emotional propensities; habits ac-
quired inchildhood become setinthe basic synaptic434/661

wiring ofneural architecture, and areharder tochange
later inlife. Given theimportance oftheprefrontal lobes
formanaging emotion, the very long window forsyn-
aptic sculpting inthis brain region may well mean that,
inthe grand design ofthe brain, achild's experiences
over theyears can mold lasting connections intheregu-
latory circuitry oftheemotional brain. Aswehave seen,
critical experiences include how dependable and re-
sponsive tothechild's needs parents are, theopportun-
ities and guidance achild has inlearning tohandle her
own distress and control impulse, and practice inem-
pathy. Bythesame token, neglect orabuse, themisat-
tunement ofaself-absorbed orindifferent parent, or
brutal discipline can leave their imprint ontheemotion-
al circuitry.15
One ofthe most essential emotional lessons, first
learned ininfancy and refined throughout childhood, is
how tosoothe oneself when upset. For very young in-
fants, soothing comes from caretakers: amother hears
herinfant crying, picks him up,holds and rocks him un-
tilhecalms down. This biological attunement, some the-
orists propose, helps thechild begin tolearn how todo
thesame forhimself.16During acritical period between
ten and eighteen months, theorbitofrontal area ofthe
prefrontal cortex israpidly forming the connections
with the limbic brain that will make itakey on/off435/661

switch fordistress. The infant who through countless
episodes ofbeing soothed ishelped along inlearning
how tocalm down, the speculation goes, will have
stronger connections inthis circuit forcontrolling dis-
tress, and sothroughout lifewill bebetter atsoothing
himself when upset.
Tobesure, the artofsoothing oneself ismastered
over many years, and with new means, asbrain matura-
tion offers achild progressively more sophisticated emo-
tional tools. Remember, thefrontal lobes, soimportant
for regulating limbic impulse, mature into adoles-
cence.17Another key circuit that continues toshape it-
self through childhood centers onthe vagus nerve,
which atone end regulates theheart and other parts of
thebody, and attheother sends signals totheamygdala
from the adrenals, prompting ittosecrete the cat-
echolamines, which prime thefight-or-flight response. A
University ofWashington team that assessed theimpact
ofchildrearing discovered that emotionally adept par-
enting led toachange forthe better invagus-nerve
function.
AsJohn Gottman, the psychologist who led the re-
search, explained, "Parents modify their children's vagal
tone"—a measure ofhow easily triggered the vagus
nerve is—"by coaching them emotionally: talking tochil-
dren about their feelings and how tounderstand them,436/661

not being critical and judgmental, problem-solving
about emotional predicaments, coaching them onwhat
todo, like alternatives tohitting, ortowithdrawing
when you're sad." When parents didthis well, children
were better able tosuppress thevagal activity that keeps
theamygdala priming thebody with fight-or-flight hor-
mones—and so were better behaved.
Itstands toreason that thekey skills ofemotional in-
telligence each have critical periods extending over sev-
eral years inchildhood. Each period represents awin-
dow forhelping that child instill beneficial emotional
habits or,ifmissed, tomake itthat much harder tooffer
corrective lessons later inlife. The massive sculpting
and pruning ofneural circuits inchildhood may bean
underlying reason why early emotional hardships and
trauma have such enduring and pervasive effects in
adulthood. Itmay explain, too, why psychotherapy can
often take solong toaffect some ofthese patterns—and
why, aswe've seen, even after therapy those patterns
tend toremain asunderlying propensities, though with
an overlay of new insights and relearned responses.
Tobesure, thebrain remains plastic throughout life,
though not tothespectacular extent seen inchildhood.
Alllearning implies achange inthebrain, astrengthen-
ingofsynaptic connection. The brain changes inthepa-
tients with obsessive-compulsive disorder show that437/661

emotional habits are malleable throughout life, with
some sustained effort, even atthe neural level. What
happens with thebrain inPTSD (orintherapy, forthat
matter) isananalog oftheeffects allrepeated orintense
emotional experiences bring, for better or for worse.
Some ofthe most telling ofsuch lessons come from
parent tochild. There are very different emotional
habits instilled byparents whose attunement means an
infant's emotional needs areacknowledged and met or
whose discipline includes empathy, ontheone hand, or
self-absorbed parents who ignore achild's distress or
who discipline capriciously byyelling and hitting. Much
psychotherapy is,inasense, aremedial tutorial forwhat
was skewed ormissed completely earlier inlife. But why
notdowhat wecan toprevent that need, bygiving chil-
dren thenurturing and guidance that cultivates thees-
sential emotional skills in the first place?438/661

PART FIVE
EMOTIONAL LITERACY

15
The Cost of Emotional Illiteracy
Itbegan asasmall dispute, but had escalated. Ian
Moore, asenior atThomas Jefferson High School in
Brooklyn, and Tyrone Sinkler, ajunior, had had a
falling-out with abuddy, fifteen-year-old Khalil Sump-
ter. Then they had started picking onhim and making
threats. Now it exploded.
Khalil, scared that Ianand Tyrone were going tobeat
him up,brought a.38caliber pistol toschool one morn-
ing, and, fifteen feet from aschool guard, shot both boys
to death at point-blank range in the school's hallway.
The incident, chilling asitis,canberead asyetanoth-
ersign ofadesperate need forlessons inhandling emo-
tions, settling disagreements peaceably, and just plain
getting along. Educators, long disturbed byschool
children's lagging scores inmath and reading, arerealiz-
ing there isadifferent and more alarming deficiency:
emotional illiteracy.1And while laudable efforts arebe-
ing made toraise academic standards, this new and
troubling deficiency isnotbeing addressed inthestand-
ard school curriculum. Asone Brooklyn teacher put it,
thepresent emphasis inschools suggests that "we care
more about how well school children can read and write
than whether they'll be alive next week."

Signs ofthedeficiency can beseen inviolent incidents
such asthe shooting ofIan and Tyrone, growing ever
more common inAmerican schools. But these aremore
than isolated events; the heightening ofthe turmoil of
adolescence and troubles ofchildhood can beread for
theUnited States—a bellwether ofworld trends—in stat-
istics such as these:2
In1990, compared tothe previous two decades, the
United States saw thehighest juvenile arrest rate forvi-
olent crimes ever; teen arrests for forcible rape had
doubled; teen murder rates quadrupled, mostly due to
anincrease inshootings.3During those same two dec-
ades, the suicide rate forteenagers tripled, asdid the
number ofchildren under fourteen who aremurder vic-
tims.4
More, and younger, teenage girls aregetting pregnant.
Asof1993 thebirthrate among girls tentofourteen has
risen steadily forfive years inarow—some callit"babies
having babies"—as has theproportion ofunwanted teen
pregnancies and peer pressure tohave sex. Rates of
venereal disease among teenagers have tripled over the
last three decades.5
While these figures arediscouraging, ifthefocus ison
African-American youth, especially inthe inner city,
they are utterly bleak—all the rates are higher byfar,
sometimes doubled, sometimes tripled orhigher. For441/661

example, heroin and cocaine use among white youth
climbed about 300 percent over thetwo decades before
the 1990s; forAfrican-American youth itjumped toa
staggering 13 times the rate of twenty years before.6
The most common cause ofdisability among teen-
agers ismental illness. Symptoms ofdepression, wheth-
ermajor orminor, affect uptoone third ofteenagers;
forgirls, theincidence ofdepression doubles atpuberty.
The frequency ofeating disorders inteenage girls has
skyrocketed.7
Finally, unless things change, thelong-term prospects
for today's children marrying and having afruitful,
stable lifetogether aregrowing more dismal with each
generation. Aswesaw inChapter 9,while during the
1970s and 1980s the divorce rate was around 50per-
cent, asweentered the1990s therate among newlyweds
predicted that two out ofthree marriages ofyoung
people would end in divorce.
AN EMOTIONAL MALAISE
These alarming statistics arelike thecanary inthecoal
miner's tunnel whose death warns oftoo little oxygen.
Beyond such sobering numbers, the plight oftoday's
children can beseen atmore subtle levels, inday-to-day
problems that have not yet blossomed into outright
crises. Perhaps the most telling data ofall—a direct442/661

barometer ofdropping levels ofemotional compet-
ence—are from anational sample ofAmerican children,
ages seven tosixteen, comparing their emotional condi-
tion inthe mid-1970s and atthe end ofthe 1980s.8
Based onparents' and teachers' assessments, there was
asteady worsening. Noone problem stood out; allindic-
ators simply crept steadily inthewrong direction. Chil-
dren, onaverage, were doing more poorly inthese spe-
cific ways:
•Withdrawal orsocial problems: preferring tobe
alone; being secretive; sulking alot;lacking energy; feel-
ing unhappy; being overly dependent
•Anxious and depressed: being lonely; having many
fears and worries; needing tobeperfect; feeling un-
loved; feeling nervous or sad and depressed
•Attention orthinking problems: unable topay atten-
tion orsitstill; daydreaming; acting without thinking;
being too nervous toconcentrate; doing poorly on
schoolwork; unable to get mind off thoughts
•Delinquent oraggressive: hanging around kids who
getintrouble; lying and cheating; arguing alot; being
mean toother people; demanding attention; destroying
other people's things; disobeying athome and atschool;
being stubborn and moody; talking toomuch; teasing a
lot; having a hot temper443/661

While any ofthese problems inisolation raises noeye-
brows, taken asagroup they are barometers ofasea
change, anew kind oftoxicity seeping into and poison-
ingthevery experience ofchildhood, signifying sweep-
ing deficits inemotional competences. This emotional
malaise seems tobeauniversal price ofmodern lifefor
children. While Americans often decry their problems as
particularly bad compared toother cultures', studies
around the world have found rates onapar with or
worse than inthe United States. For example, inthe
1980s teachers and parents intheNetherlands, China,
and Germany rated children atabout thesame level of
problems aswere found forAmerican children in1976.
And some countries had children inworse shape than
current U.S. levels, including Australia, France, and
Thailand. But this may notremain true forlong. The lar-
gerforces that propel thedownward spiral inemotional
competence seem tobepicking upspeed intheUnited
States relative to many other developed nations.9
Nochildren, rich orpoor, areexempt from risk; these
problems are universal, occurring inallethnic, racial,
and income groups. Thus while children inpoverty have
the worst record onindices ofemotional skills, their
rate ofdeterioration over the decades was noworse
than formiddle-class children orforwealthy children:
allshow the same steady slide. There has also been a444/661

corresponding threefold rise inthenumber ofchildren
who have gotten psychological help (perhaps agood
sign, signaling that help ismore available), aswell asa
near doubling ofthe number ofchildren who have
enough emotional problems that they should getsuch
help buthave not(abad sign)—from about 9percent in
1976 to 18 percent in 1989.
Urie Bronfenbrenner, theeminent Cornell University
developmental psychologist who did aninternational
comparison ofchildren's well-being, says: "In the ab-
sence ofgood support systems, external stresses have
become sogreat that even strong families are falling
apart. The hecticness, instability, and inconsistency of
daily family lifearerampant inallsegments ofoursoci-
ety, including thewell-educated and well-to-do. What is
atstake isnothing less than thenext generation, partic-
ularly males, who ingrowing upareespecially vulner-
able tosuch disruptive forces asthedevastating effects
ofdivorce, poverty, and unemployment. The status of
American children and families isasdesperate asever….
We aredepriving millions ofchildren oftheir compet-
ence and moral character."10
This isnotjust anAmerican phenomenon butaglobal
one, with worldwide competition todrive down labor
costs creating economic forces that press onthefamily.
These aretimes offinancially besieged families inwhich445/661

both parents work long hours, sothat children areleftto
their own devices ortheTVbaby-sits; when more chil-
dren than ever grow upinpoverty; when theone-parent
family isbecoming ever more commonplace; when more
infants and toddlers areleft inday care sopoorly run
that itamounts toneglect. Allthis means, even forwell-
intentioned parents, theerosion ofthecountless small,
nourishing exchanges between parent and child that
build emotional competences.
Iffamilies nolonger function effectively toputallour
children onafirm footing forlife, what arewetodo? A
more careful look atthemechanics ofspecific problems
suggests how given deficits inemotional orsocial com-
petences lay the foundation forgrave problems—and
how well-aimed correctives orpreventives could keep
more children on track.
TAMING AGGRESSION
Inmy elementary school the tough kid was Jimmy, a
fourth grader when Iwas infirst grade. Hewas thekid
who would steal your lunch money, take your bike, slug
you assoon astalk toyou. Jimmy was theclassic bully,
starting fights with theleast provocation, ornone atall.
Weallstood inawe ofJimmy—and weallstood atadis-
tance. Everyone hated and feared Jimmy; noone would
play with him. Itwas asthough everywhere hewent on446/661

theplayground aninvisible bodyguard cleared kids out
of his way.
Kids like Jimmy areclearly troubled. But what may be
less obvious isthat being soflagrantly aggressive in
childhood isamark ofemotional and other troubles to
come. Jimmy was injail for assault bythe time he
reached sixteen.
The lifelong legacy ofchildhood aggressiveness inkids
like Jimmy has emerged from many studies.11Aswe
have seen, the family life ofsuch aggressive children
typically includes parents who alternate neglect with
harsh and capricious punishments, apattern that, per-
haps understandably, makes thechildren abitparanoid
or combative.
Not allangry children arebullies; some arewithdrawn
social outcasts who overreact tobeing teased ortowhat
they perceive asslights orunfairness. But theone per-
ceptual flaw that unites such children isthat they per-
ceive slights where none were intended, imagining their
peers tobemore hostile toward them than they actually
are. This leads them tomisperceive neutral acts as
threatening ones—an innocent bump isseen asaven-
detta—and toattack inreturn. That, ofcourse, leads
other children toshun them, isolating them further.
Such angry, isolated children arehighly sensitive toin-
justices and being treated unfairly. They typically see447/661

themselves asvictims and can recite alistofinstances
when, say, teachers blamed them fordoing something
when infact they were innocent. Another trait ofsuch
children isthat once they areintheheat ofanger they
can think of only one way to react: by lashing out.
These perceptual biases can beseen atwork inanex-
periment inwhich bullies arepaired with amore peace-
able child towatch videos. Inone video, aboy drops his
books when another knocks into him, and children
standing nearby laugh; theboy who dropped thebooks
gets angry and tries tohitone ofthose who laughed.
When theboys who watched thevideo talk about itaf-
terward, thebully always sees theboy who struck outas
justified. Even more telling, when they have torate how
aggressive theboys were during their discussion ofthe
video, thebullies seetheboy who knocked into theother
asmore combative, and theanger oftheboy who struck
out as justified.12
This jump tojudgment testifies toadeep perceptual
bias inpeople who areunusually aggressive: they acton
thebasis oftheassumption ofhostility orthreat, paying
too little attention towhat isactually going on. Once
they assume threat, they leapfrog toaction. For in-
stance, ifanaggressive boy isplaying checkers with an-
other who moves apiece outofturn, he'll interpret the
move as"cheating" without pausing tofind outifithad448/661

been an innocent mistake. His presumption isof
malevolence rather than innocence; hisreaction isauto-
matic hostility. Along with theknee-jerk perception ofa
hostile actisentwined anequally automatic aggression;
instead of,say, pointing out tothe other boy that he
made amistake, hewill jump toaccusation, yelling, hit-
ting. And themore such children dothis, themore auto-
matic aggression becomes forthem, and the more the
repertoire of alternatives—politeness, joking—shrinks.
Such children areemotionally vulnerable inthesense
that they have alow threshold forupset, getting peeved
more often bymore things; once upset, their thinking is
muddled, sothat they seebenign acts ashostile and fall
back on their overlearned habit of striking out.13
These perceptual biases toward hostility arealready in
place bytheearly grades. While most children, and es-
pecially boys, are rambunctious inkindergarten and
first grade, themore aggressive children failtolearn a
modicum ofself-control bysecond grade. Where other
children have started tolearn negotiation and com-
promise forplayground disagreements, thebullies rely
more and more onforce and bluster. They pay asocial
price: within two orthree hours ofafirst playground
contact with abully, other children already saythey dis-
like him.14449/661

But studies that have followed children from the
preschool years into theteenage ones find that uptohalf
offirst graders who aredisruptive, unable togetalong
with other kids, disobedient with their parents, and res-
istant with teachers will become delinquents intheir
teen years.15Ofcourse, not allsuch aggressive children
areonthetrajectory that leads toviolence and criminal-
ityinlater life. But ofallchildren, these are the ones
most at risk for eventually committing violent crimes.
The drift toward crime shows upsurprisingly early in
these children's lives. When children inaMontreal
kindergarten were rated forhostility and trouble mak-
ing, those highest atage five already had fargreater
evidence ofdelinquency just five toeight years later, in
their early teens. They were about three times aslikely
asother children toadmit they had beaten upsomeone
who had notdone anything tothem, tohave shoplifted,
tohave used aweapon inafight, tohave broken into or
stolen parts from acar, and tohave been drunk—and all
this before they reached fourteen years of age.16
The prototypical pathway toviolence and criminality
starts with children who are aggressive and hard to
handle infirst and second grade.17Typically, from the
earliest school years their poor impulse control also con-
tributes totheir being poor students, seen as,and seeing
themselves as,"dumb"—a judgment confirmed bytheir450/661

being shunted tospecial-education classes (and though
such children may have ahigher rate of"hyperactivity"
orlearning disorders, bynomeans alldo). Children who
onentering school already have learned intheir homes a
"coercive" style—that is,bullying—are also written offby
their teachers, who have tospend toomuch time keep-
ingthechildren inline. The defiance ofclassroom rules
that comes naturally tothese children means that they
waste time that would otherwise beused inlearning;
their destined academic failure isusually obvious by
about third grade. While boys onatrajectory toward de-
linquency tend tohave lower IQscores than their peers,
their impulsivity ismore directly atcause: impulsivity in
ten-year-old boys isalmost three times aspowerful a
predictor of their later delinquency as is their IQ.18
Byfourth orfifth grade these kids—by now seen as
bullies orjust "difficult"—are rejected bytheir peers and
areunable tomake friends easily, ifatall,and have be-
come academic failures. Feeling themselves friendless,
they gravitate toother social outcasts. Between grade
four and grade nine they commit themselves totheir
outcast group and alifeofdefying thelaw: they show a
five fold increase intheir truancy, drinking, and drug
taking, with the biggest boost between seventh and
eighth grade. By the middle-school years, they are
joined byanother type of"late starters," who are451/661

attracted totheir defiant style; these late starters areof-
ten youngsters who are completely unsupervised at
home and have started roaming thestreets ontheir own
ingrade school. Inthe high-school years this outcast
group typically drops outofschool inadrift toward de-
linquency, engaging inpetty crimes such asshoplifting,
theft, and drug dealing.
(A telling difference emerges inthis trajectory
between boys and girls. Astudy offourth-grade girls
who were "bad"—getting introuble with teachers and
breaking rules, but not unpopular with their
peers—found that 40percent had achild bythe time
they finished the high-school years.19That was three
times the average pregnancy rate for girls intheir
schools. Inother words, antisocial teenage girls don't get
violent—they get pregnant.)
There is,ofcourse, nosingle pathway toviolence and
criminality, and many other factors can put achild at
risk: being born inahigh-crime neighborhood where
they areexposed tomore temptations tocrime and viol-
ence, coming from afamily under high levels ofstress,
orliving inpoverty. But none ofthese factors makes a
life ofviolent crime inevitable. Allthings being equal,
thepsychological forces atwork inaggressive children
greatly intensify thelikelihood oftheir ending upasvi-
olent criminals. AsGerald Patterson, apsychologist who452/661

hasclosely followed thecareers ofhundreds ofboys into
young adulthood, puts it,"the anti-social acts ofafive-
year-old may beprototypic oftheacts ofthedelinquent
adolescent."20
SCHOOL FOR BULLIES
The bent ofmind that aggressive children take with
them through lifeisone that almost ensures they will
end upintrouble. Astudy ofjuvenile offenders con-
victed ofviolent crimes and ofaggressive high-school
students found acommon mind-set: When they have
difficulties with someone, they immediately seetheoth-
erperson inanantagonistic way, jumping toconclu-
sions about the other person's hostility toward them
without seeking any further information ortrying to
think ofapeaceful way tosettle their differences. Atthe
same time, thenegative consequence ofaviolent solu-
tion—a fight, typically—never crosses their mind. Their
aggressive bent isjustified intheir mind bybeliefs like,
"It's okay tohitsomeone ifyou just gocrazy from an-
ger"; "Ifyou back down from afight everyone will think
you're acoward"; and "People who getbeaten upbadly
don't really suffer that much."21
But timely help can change these attitudes and stop a
child's trajectory toward delinquency; several experi-
mental programs have had some success inhelping such453/661

aggressive kids learn tocontrol their antisocial bent be-
fore itleads tomore serious trouble. One, atDuke
University, worked with anger-ridden grade-school
troublemakers intraining sessions for forty minutes
twice aweek forsixtotwelve weeks. The boys were
taught, forexample, toseehow some ofthesocial cues
they interpreted ashostile were infact neutral or
friendly. They learned totake the perspective ofother
children, togetasense ofhow they were being seen and
ofwhat other children might bethinking and feeling in
theencounters that had gotten them soangry. They also
got direct training inanger control through enacting
scenes, such asbeing teased, that might lead them to
lose their temper. One ofthekeyskills foranger control
was monitoring their feelings—becoming aware oftheir
body's sensations, such asflushing ormuscle tensing, as
they were getting angry, and totake those feelings asa
cue tostop and consider what todonext rather than
strike out impulsively.
John Lochman, aDuke University psychologist who
was one ofthe designers ofthe program, told me,
"They'll discuss situations they've been inrecently, like
being bumped inthehallway when they think itwas on
purpose. The kids will talk about how they might have
handled it.One kidsaid, forexample, that hejust stared
attheboy who bumped him and told him not todoit454/661

again, and walked away. That puthim intheposition of
exerting some control and keeping his self-esteem,
without starting a fight."
This appeals; many such aggressive boys areunhappy
that they lose their temper soeasily, and soarereceptive
tolearning tocontrol it.Intheheat ofthemoment, of
course, such cool-headed responses aswalking away or
counting totensotheimpulse tohitwill pass before re-
acting arenotautomatic; theboys practice such altern-
atives inrole-playing scenes such asgetting onabus
where other kids aretaunting them. That way they can
tryout friendly responses that preserve their dignity
while giving them analternative tohitting, crying, or
running away in shame.
Three years after theboys had been through thetrain-
ing, Lochman compared these boys with others who had
been just asaggressive, but didnot have thebenefit of
the anger-control sessions. He found that, inadoles-
cence, theboys who graduated from theprogram were
much less disruptive inclass, had more positive feelings
about themselves, and were less likely todrink ortake
drugs. And thelonger they had been intheprogram, the
less aggressive they were as teenagers.
PREVENTING DEPRESSION455/661

Dana, sixteen, had always seemed togetalong. But
now, suddenly, she just could not relate with other
girls, and, more troubling forher, shecould notfind
away tohold ontoboyfriends, even though she
slept with them. Morose and constantly fatigued,
Dana lost interest ineating, inhaving fun ofany
kind; she said she felt hopeless and helpless todo
anything toescape her mood, and was thinking of
suicide.
The drop into depression had been triggered by
her most recent breakup. She said she didn't know
how togoout with aboy without getting sexually
involved right away—even ifshewas uncomfortable
about it—and that she did not know how toend a
relationship even ifitwas unsatisfying. She went to
bed with boys, she said, when allshe really wanted
to do was get to know them better.
She had just moved toanew school, and feltshy
and anxious about making friends with girls there.
For instance, sheheld back from starting conversa-
tions, only talking once someone spoke toher. She
feltunable toletthem know what shewas like, and
didn't even feel she knew what tosayafter "Hello,
how are you?"22
Dana went fortherapy toanexperimental program for
depressed adolescents atColumbia University. Her456/661

treatment focused onhelping her learn how tohandle
her relationships better: how todevelop afriendship,
how tofeel more confident with other teens, how toas-
sert limits onsexual closeness, how tobeintimate, how
toexpress herfeelings. Inessence, itwas aremedial tu-
torial insome ofthemost basic emotional skills. And it
worked; her depression lifted.
Particularly inyoung people, problems inrelation-
ships areatrigger fordepression. The difficulty isasof-
teninchildren's relationships with their parents asitis
with their peers. Depressed children and teenagers are
frequently unable orunwilling totalk about their sad-
ness. They seem unable tolabel their feelings accurately,
showing instead asullen irritability, impatience, cranki-
ness, and anger—especially toward their parents. This,
inturn, makes itharder fortheir parents tooffer the
emotional support and guidance thedepressed child ac-
tually needs, setting inmotion adownward spiral that
typically ends in constant arguments and alienation.
Anew look atthecauses ofdepression intheyoung
pinpoints deficits intwo areas ofemotional competence:
relationship skills, ontheone hand, and adepression-
promoting way ofinterpreting setbacks, onthe other.
While some ofthe tendency todepression almost cer-
tainly isdue togenetic destiny, some ofthat tendency
seems due toreversible, pessimistic habits ofthought457/661

that predispose children toreact tolife's small de-
feats—a bad grade, arguments with parents, asocial re-
jection—by becoming depressed. And there isevidence
tosuggest that the predisposition todepression,
whatever itsbasis, isbecoming ever more widespread
among the young.
A COST OF MODERNITY: RISING
RATES OF DEPRESSION
These millennial years areushering inanAge ofMelan-
choly, just asthe twentieth century became anAge of
Anxiety. International data show what seems tobea
modern epidemic ofdepression, one that isspreading
side byside with theadoption throughout theworld of
modern ways. Each successive generation worldwide
since theopening ofthecentury has lived with ahigher
risk than their parents ofsuffering amajor depres-
sion—not just sadness, butaparalyzing listlessness, de-
jection, and self-pity, and anoverwhelming hopeless-
ness—over the course oflife.23And those episodes are
beginning atearlier and earlier ages. Childhood depres-
sion, once virtually unknown (or, atleast, unrecognized)
is emerging as a fixture of the modern scene.
Although the likelihood ofbecoming depressed rises
with age, the greatest increases are among young
people. Forthose born after 1955 thelikelihood they will458/661

suffer amajor depression atsome point inlife is,in
many countries, three times ormore greater than for
their grandparents. Among Americans born before
1905, therate ofthose having amajor depression over a
lifetime was just 1percent; forthose born since 1955, by
agetwenty-four about 6percent had become depressed.
For those born between 1945 and 1954, thechances of
having had amajor depression before agethirty-four are
tentimes greater than forthose born between 1905 and
1914.24And foreach generation theonset ofaperson's
first episode ofdepression has tended tooccur atan
ever-earlier age.
Aworldwide study ofmore than thirty-nine thousand
people found the same trend inPuerto Rico, Canada,
Italy, Germany, France, Taiwan, Lebanon, and New Zea-
land. InBeirut, therise ofdepression tracked political
events closely, theupward trends rocketing during peri-
ods ofcivil war. InGermany, forthose born before 1914
therate ofdepression byagethirty-five is4percent; for
those born inthedecade before 1944 itis14percent at
agethirty-five. Worldwide, generations that came ofage
during politically troubled times had higher rates ofde-
pression, though the overall upward trend holds apart
from any political events.
The lowering into childhood ofthe age when people
first experience depression also seems to hold459/661

worldwide. When Iasked experts tohazard aguess asto
why, there were several theories.
Dr.Frederick Goodwin, then director oftheNational
Institute ofMental Health, speculated, "There's been a
tremendous erosion ofthenuclear family—a doubling of
thedivorce rate, adrop inparents' time available tochil-
dren, and anincrease inmobility. You don't grow up
knowing your extended family much anymore. The
losses ofthese stable sources ofself-identification mean
a greater susceptibility to depression."
Dr. David Kupfer, chairman ofpsychiatry atthe
University ofPittsburgh medical school, pointed toan-
other trend: "With thespread ofindustrialization after
World War II,inasense nobody was home anymore. In
more and more families there hasbeen growing parental
indifference tochildren's needs asthey grow up.This is
notadirect cause ofdepression, butitsets upavulner-
ability. Early emotional stressors may affect neuron de-
velopment, which can lead toadepression when you are
under great stress even decades later."
Martin Seligman, theUniversity ofPennsylvania psy-
chologist, proposed: "For the last thirty orforty years
we've seen theascendance ofindividualism and awan-
ingoflarger beliefs inreligion, and insupports from the
community and extended family. That means aloss of
resources that can buffer you against setbacks and460/661

failures. Tothe extent you see afailure assomething
that islasting and which you magnify totaint everything
inyour life, you areprone toletamomentary defeat be-
come alasting source ofhopelessness. But ifyou have a
larger perspective, like abelief inGod and anafterlife,
and you lose your job, it's just a temporary defeat."
Whatever the cause, depression inthe young isa
pressing problem. IntheUnited States, estimates vary
widely forhow many children and teens aredepressed
inany given year, asopposed tovulnerability over their
lifetime. Some epidemiological studies using strict cri-
teria—the official diagnostic symptoms for depres-
sion—have found that forboys and girls between ten
and thirteen the rate ofmajor depression over the
course ofayear isashigh as8or9percent, though oth-
erstudies place itatabout half that rate (and some as
low asabout 2percent). Atpuberty, some data suggest,
therate nearly doubles forgirls; upto16percent ofgirls
between fourteen and sixteen suffer about ofdepres-
sion, while the rate is unchanged for boys.25
THE COURSE OF DEPRESSION IN THE
YOUNG
That depression should notjust betreated, butpreven-
ted, inchildren isclear from analarming discovery:
Even mild episodes ofdepression inachild can augur461/661

more severe episodes later inlife.26This challenges the
old assumption that depression inchildhood does not
matter inthelong run, since children supposedly "grow
out ofit."Ofcourse, every child gets sad from time to
time; childhood and adolescence are, like adulthood,
times ofoccasional disappointments and losses large
and small with theattendant grief. The need forpreven-
tion isnot forthese times, but forthose children for
whom sadness spirals downward into agloom that
leaves them despairing, irritable, and withdrawn—a far
more severe melancholy.
Among children whose depression was severe enough
that they were referred fortreatment, three quarters had
asubsequent episode ofsevere depression, according to
data collected byMaria Kovacs, apsychologist at
Western Psychiatric Institute and Clinic inPittsburgh.27
.Kovacs studied children diagnosed with depression
when they were asyoung aseight years old, assessing
them every few years until some were asoldastwenty-
four.
The children with major depression had episodes last-
ingabout eleven months onaverage, though inone in
sixofthem itpersisted foraslong aseighteen months.
Mild depression, which began asearly asage five in
some children, was less incapacitating but lasted far
longer—an average ofabout four years. And, Kovacs462/661

found, children who have aminor depression aremore
likely tohave itintensify into major depression—a so-
called double depression. Those who develop double de-
pression aremuch more prone tosuffer recurring epis-
odes astheyears goon.Aschildren who had anepisode
ofdepression grew into adolescence and early adult-
hood, they suffered from depression ormanic-depress-
ive disorder, on average, one year in three.
The cost tochildren goes beyond thesuffering caused
bydepression itself. Kovacs told me, "Kids learn social
skills intheir peer relations—for example, what todoif
you want something and aren't getting it,seeing how
other children handle the situation and then trying it
yourself. But depressed kids arelikely tobeamong the
neglected children inaschool, theones other kids don't
play with much."28
The sullenness orsadness such children feel leads
them toavoid initiating social contacts, ortolook away
when another child istrying toengage them—a social
signal theother child only takes asarebuff; theend res-
ultisthat depressed children end uprejected orneg-
lected ontheplayground. This lacuna intheir interper-
sonal experience means they miss out onwhat they
would normally learn intherough-and-tumble ofplay,
and socan leave them social and emotional laggards,
with much catching uptodoafter thedepression lifts.29463/661

Indeed, when depressed children have been compared
tothose without depression, they have been found tobe
more socially inept, tohave fewer friends, tobeless pre-
ferred than others asplaymates, tobeless liked, and to
have more troubled relationships with other children.
Another cost tothese children isdoing poorly in
school; depression interferes with their memory and
concentration, making itharder topay attention inclass
and retain what istaught. Achild who feels nojoyin
anything will find ithard tomarshal theenergy tomas-
ter challenging lessons, letalone experience flow in
learning. Understandably, the longer children in
Kovacs's study were depressed, the more their grades
dropped and thepoorer they didonachievement tests,
sothat they were more likely tobeheld back inschool.
Infact, there was adirect correlation between thelength
oftime achild had been depressed and hisgrade-point
average, with asteady plummet over thecourse ofthe
episode. Allofthis academic rough going, ofcourse,
compounds the depression. AsKovacs observes, "Ima-
gine you're already feeling depressed, and you start
flunking outofschool, and you sithome byyourself in-
stead of playing with other kids."
DEPRESSIONOGENIC WAYS OF
THOUGHT464/661

Just aswith adults, pessimistic ways ofinterpreting
life's defeats seem tofeed thesense ofhelplessness and
hopelessness attheheart ofchildren's depression. That
people who arealready depressed think inthese ways
has long been known. What has only recently emerged,
though, isthat children who aremost prone tomelan-
choly tend toward this pessimistic outlook before they
become depressed. This insight suggests awindow of
opportunity forinoculating them against depression be-
fore it strikes.
One line ofevidence comes from studies ofchildren's
beliefs about their own ability tocontrol what happens
intheir lives—for example, being able tochange things
forthe better. This isassessed bychildren's ratings of
themselves insuch terms as"When Ihave problems at
home I'm better than most kids athelping tosolve the
problems" and "When Iwork hard Igetgood grades."
Children who saynone ofthese positive descriptions fits
them have little sense that they can doanything to
change things; this sense ofhelplessness ishighest in
those children who are most depressed.30
Atelling study looked atfifth and sixth graders inthe
few days after they received report cards. Asweallre-
member, report cards areone ofthegreatest sources of
elation and despair inchildhood. But researchers find a
marked consequence inhow children assess their role465/661

when they getaworse grade than they expected. Those
who seeabad grade asdue tosome personal flaw ("I'm
stupid") feel more depressed than those who explain it
away interms ofsomething they could change ("If I
work harder onmy math homework I'llget abetter
grade").31
Researchers identified agroup ofthird, fourth, and
fifth graders whom classmates had rejected, and tracked
which ones continued tobesocial outcasts intheir new
classes the following year. How the children explained
the rejection tothemselves seemed crucial towhether
they became depressed. Those who saw their rejection
asdue tosome flaw inthemselves grew more depressed.
But theoptimists, who feltthat they could dosomething
tochange things forthebetter, were not especially de-
pressed despite the continuing rejection.32And ina
study ofchildren making thenotoriously stressful trans-
ition toseventh grade, those who had thepessimistic at-
titude responded tohigh levels ofhassles atschool and
toany additional stress athome bybecoming de-
pressed.33
The most direct evidence that apessimistic outlook
makes children highly susceptible todepression comes
from afive-year study ofchildren beginning when they
were inthird grade.34Among theyounger children, the
strongest predictor that they would become depressed466/661

was apessimistic outlook coupled with amajor blow
such asparents divorcing oradeath inthefamily, which
left the child upset, unsettled, and, presumably, with
parents less able tooffer anurturing buffer. Asthechil-
dren grew through the elementary-school years, there
was atelling shift intheir thinking about thegood and
bad events oftheir lives, with thechildren increasingly
ascribing them totheir own traits: "I'm getting good
grades because I'm smart"; "Idon't have many friends
because I'mnofun." This shift seems tosetingradually
over thethird tofifth grades. Asthis happens those chil-
dren who develop apessimistic outlook—attributing the
setbacks intheir lives tosome dire flaw inthem-
selves—begin tofallprey todepressed moods inreaction
tosetbacks. What's more, theexperience ofdepression
itself seems toreinforce these pessimistic ways ofthink-
ing, sothat even after thedepression lifts, thechild is
left with what amounts toanemotional scar, asetof
convictions fedbythe depression and solidified inthe
mind: that hecan't dowell inschool, isunlikable, and
can donothing toescape his own brooding moods.
These fixed ideas can make thechild allthemore vul-
nerable to another depression down the road.
SHORT-CIRCUITING DEPRESSION467/661

The good news: there isevery sign that teaching chil-
dren more productive ways oflooking attheir diffi-
culties lowers their risk ofdepression. *Inastudy ofone
Oregon high school, about one infour students had
what psychologists call a"low-level depression," not
severe enough tosay itwas beyond ordinary unhappi-
ness asyet.35Some may have been intheearly weeks or
months of what was to become a depression.
Inaspecial after-school class seventy-five ofthe
mildly depressed students learned tochallenge the
thinking patterns associated with depression, tobecome
more adept atmaking friends, togetalong better with
their parents, and toengage inmore social activities
they found pleasant. Bytheend oftheeight-week pro-
gram, 55percent ofthe students had recovered from
their mild depression, while only about aquarter of
equally depressed students who were notintheprogram
had begun topull outoftheir depression. Ayear later a
quarter ofthose inthecomparison group had gone onto
fallinto amajor depression, asopposed toonly 14per-
cent ofstudents inthedepression-prevention program.
Though they lasted just eight sessions, the classes
seemed to have cut the risk of depression in half.36
Similarly promising findings came from aspecial
once-a-week class given toten-to thirteen-year-old
youngsters atodds with their parents and showing some468/661

signs ofdepression. Inafter-school sessions they
learned some basic emotional skills, including handling
disagreements, thinking before acting, and, perhaps
most important, challenging the pessimistic beliefs as-
sociated with depression—for example, resolving to
study harder after doing poorly onanexam instead of
thinking, "I'm just not smart enough."
"What achild learns inthese classes isthat moods like
anxiety, sadness, and anger don't just descend onyou
without your having any control over them, butthat you
can change theway you feel bywhat you think," points
outpsychologist Martin Seligman, one ofthedevelopers
ofthetwelve-week program. Because disputing thede-
pressing thoughts vanquishes the gathering mood of
gloom, Seligman added, "it's aninstant reinforcer that
becomes a habit."
Again thespecial sessions lowered depression rates by
one half—and did soaslong astwo years later. Ayear
after theclasses ended, just 8percent ofthose who par-
ticipated scored atamoderate-to-severe level onatest
ofdepression, versus 29percent ofchildren inacom-
parison group. And after two years, about 20percent of
those inthecourse were showing some signs ofatleast
mild depression, compared to44percent ofthose inthe
comparison group.469/661

Learning these emotional skills atthecusp ofadoles-
cence may beespecially helpful. Seligman observes,
"These kids seem tobebetter athandling the routine
teenage agonies ofrejection. They seem tohave learned
this atacrucial window forrisk ofdepression, just as
they enter theteen years. And thelesson seems toper-
sistand grow abitstronger over thecourse oftheyears
after they learn it,suggesting thekids areactually using
it in their day-to-day lives."
Other experts onchildhood depression applaud the
new programs. "Ifyou want tomake areal difference for
psychiatric illness like depression, you have todo
something before thekids getsick inthefirst place," Ko-
vacs commented. "The real solution isapsychological
inoculation."
EATING DISORDERS
During mydays asagraduate student inclinical psycho-
logy inthelate 1960s, Iknew two women who suffered
from eating disorders, though Irealized this only after
many years had passed. One was abrilliant graduate
student inmathematics atHarvard, afriend from my
undergraduate days; theother was onthestaff atM.I.T.
The mathematician, though skeletally thin, simply could
notbring herself toeat; food, shesaid, repulsed her. The
librarian had anample figure and was given tobingeing470/661

onicecream, Sara Lee carrot cake, and other desserts;
then—as she once confided with some embarrass-
ment—she would secretly goofftothe bathroom and
make herself vomit. Today themathematician would be
diagnosed with anorexia nervosa, the librarian with
bulimia.
Inthose years there were nosuch labels. Clinicians
were just beginning tocomment ontheproblem; Hilda
Bruch, the pioneer inthis movement, published her
seminal article oneating disorders in1969.37Bruch,
puzzled bywomen who were starving themselves to
death, proposed that one ofthe several underlying
causes layinaninability tolabel and respond appropri-
ately tobodily urges—notably, ofcourse, hunger. Since
then the clinical literature oneating disorders has
mushroomed, with amultitude ofhypotheses about the
causes, ranging from ever-younger girls feeling com-
pelled tocompete with unattainably high standards of
female beauty, tointrusive mothers who enmesh their
daughters in a controlling web of guilt and blame.
Most ofthese hypotheses suffered from one great
drawback: they were extrapolations from observations
made during therapy. Far more desirable, from asci-
entific viewpoint, arestudies oflarge groups ofpeople
over aperiod ofseveral years, toseewho among them
eventually comes down with theproblem. That kind of471/661

study allows aclean comparison that can tell, forex-
ample, ifhaving controlling parents predisposes agirlto
eating disorders. Beyond that, itcan identify thecluster
ofconditions that leads totheproblem, and distinguish
them from conditions that might seem tobeacause, but
which actually arefound asoften inpeople without the
problem as in those who come for treatment.
When just such astudy was done with more than nine
hundred girls intheseventh through tenth grades, emo-
tional deficits—particularly afailure totell distressing
feelings from one another and tocontrol them—were
found tobekeyamong thefactors leading toeating dis-
orders.38Even bytenth grade, there were sixty-one girls
inthis affluent, suburban Minneapolis high school who
already had serious symptoms ofanorexia orbulimia.
The greater theproblem, themore thegirls reacted to
setbacks, difficulties, and minor annoyances with in-
tense negative feelings that they could not soothe, and
theless their awareness ofwhat, exactly, they were feel-
ing. When these two emotional tendencies were coupled
with being highly dissatisfied with their body, then the
outcome was anorexia orbulimia. Overly controlling
parents were found not toplay aprime role incausing
eating disorders. (AsBruch herself had warned, theories
based onhindsight were unlikely tobeaccurate; forex-
ample, parents can easily become intensely controlling472/661

inresponse totheir daughter's eating disorder, out of
desperation tohelp her.) Also judged irrelevant were
such popular explanations asfear ofsexuality, early on-
set of puberty, and low self-esteem.
Instead, the causal chain this prospective study re-
vealed began with theeffects onyoung girls ofgrowing
upinasociety preoccupied with unnatural thinness asa
sign offemale beauty. Well inadvance ofadolescence,
girls arealready self-conscious about their weight. One
six-year-old, for example, broke into tears when her
mother asked hertogoforaswim, saying she'd look fat
inaswimsuit. Infact, says her pediatrician, who tells
thestory, herweight was normal forherheight.39Inone
study of271young teenagers, half thegirls thought they
were toofat,even though thevast majority ofthem were
normal inweight. But the Minneapolis study showed
that anobsession with being overweight isnotinand of
itself sufficient toexplain why some girls goontodevel-
op eating disorders.
Some obese people are unable totell the difference
between being scared, angry, and hungry, and solump
allthose feelings together assignifying hunger, which
leads them toovereat whenever they feel upset.40So-
mething similar seems tobehappening inthese girls.
Gloria Leon, the University ofMinnesota psychologist
who did thestudy ofyoung girls and eating disorders,473/661

observed that these girls "have poor awareness oftheir
feelings and body signals; that was thestrongest single
predictor that they would goontodevelop aneating dis-
order within thenext two years. Most children learn to
distinguish among their sensations, totellifthey're feel-
ingbored, angry, depressed, orhungry—it's abasic part
ofemotional learning. But these girls have trouble dis-
tinguishing among their most basic feelings. They may
have aproblem with their boyfriend, and not besure
whether they're angry, oranxious, ordepressed—they
just experience adiffuse emotional storm that they do
notknow how todeal with effectively. Instead they learn
tomake themselves feel better byeating; that can be-
come a strongly entrenched emotional habit."
But when this habit forsoothing themselves interacts
with the pressures girls feel tostay thin, the way is
paved foreating disorders todevelop. "Atfirst shemight
start with binge eating," Leon observes. "But tostay thin
shemay turn tovomiting orlaxatives, orintense physic-
alexertion toundo the weight gain from overeating.
Another avenue this struggle tohandle emotional confu-
sion can take isforthegirl nottoeatatall—it can bea
way tofeel you have atleast some control over these
overwhelming feelings."
The combination ofpoor inner awareness and weak
social skills means that these girls, when upset by474/661

friends orparents, failtoacteffectively tosoothe either
therelationship ortheir own distress. Instead their up-
settriggers the eating disorder, whether itbethat of
bulimia oranorexia, orsimply binge eating. Effective
treatments forsuch girls, Leon believes, need toinclude
some remedial instruction inthe emotional skills they
lack. "Clinicians find," she told me, "that ifyou address
the deficits therapy works better. These girls need to
learn toidentify their feelings and learn ways tosoothe
themselves orhandle their relationships better, without
turning to their maladaptive eating habits to do the job."
ONLY THE LONELY: DROPOUTS
It'sagrade-school drama: Ben, afourth grader with few
friends, has just heard from hisone buddy, Jason, that
they aren't going toplay together this lunch peri-
od—Jason wants toplay with another boy, Chad, in-
stead. Ben, crushed, hangs hishead and cries. After his
sobs subside, Ben goes over tothe lunch table where
Jason and Chad are eating.
"I hate your guts!" Ben yells at Jason.
"Why?" Jason asks.
"Because you lied," Ben says, his tone accusatory.
"You said this whole week that you were gonna play with
me and you lied."475/661

Ben then stalks offtohisempty table, crying quietly.
Jason and Chad goover tohim and trytotalk tohim,
butBen puts hisfingers inhisears, determinedly ignor-
ingthem, and runs outofthelunchroom tohide behind
the school Dumpster. Agroup ofgirls who have wit-
nessed theexchange trytoplay apeacemaker role, find-
ingBen and telling him that Jason iswilling toplay with
him too. But Ben will have none ofit,and tells them to
leave him alone. Henurses hiswounds, sulking and sob-
bing, defiantly alone.41
Apoignant moment, tobesure; the feeling ofbeing
rejected and friendless isone most everyone goes
through atsome point inchildhood oradolescence. But
what ismost telling about Ben's reaction ishisfailure to
respond toJason's efforts torepair their friendship, a
stance that extends hisplight when itmight have ended.
Such aninability toseize key cues istypical ofchildren
who areunpopular; aswesaw inChapter 8,socially re-
jected children typically arepoor atreading emotional
and social signals; even when they doread such signals,
they may have limited repertoires for response.
Dropping outofschool isaparticular risk forchildren
who aresocial rejects. The dropout rate forchildren who
are rejected bytheir peers isbetween two and eight
times greater than forchildren who have friends. One
study found, for example, that about 25percent of476/661

children who were unpopular inelementary school had
dropped out before completing high school, compared
toageneral rate of8percent.42Small wonder: imagine
spending thirty hours aweek inaplace where noone
likes you.
Two kinds ofemotional proclivities lead children to
end upassocial outcasts. Aswehave seen, one isthe
propensity toangry outbursts and toperceive hostility
even where none isintended. The second isbeing timid,
anxious, and socially shy. But over and above these tem-
peramental factors, itischildren who are "off—whose
awkwardness repeatedly makes people uncomfort-
able—who tend to be shunted aside.
One way these children are "off isinthe emotional
signals they send. When grade schoolers with few
friends were asked tomatch anemotion such asdisgust
oranger with faces that displayed arange ofemotions,
they made farmore mismatches than didchildren who
were popular. When kindergarteners were asked toex-
plain ways they might make friends with someone or
keep from having afight, itwas the unpopular chil-
dren—the ones others shied away from playing
with—who came upwith self-defeating answers ("Punch
him" forwhat todowhen both children wanted the
same toy, forexample), orvague appeals forhelp from a
grown-up. And when teenagers were asked torole-play477/661

being sad, angry, ormischievous, the more unpopular
among them gave theleast convincing performances. It
isperhaps nosurprise that such children come tofeel
that they arehelpless todoany better atmaking friends;
their social incompetence becomes aself-fulfilling
prophecy. Instead oflearning new approaches tomak-
ingfriends, they simply keep doing thesame things that
have not worked forthem inthepast, orcome upwith
even more inept responses.43
Inthelottery ofliking, these children fallshort onkey
emotional criteria: they arenot seen asfun tobewith,
and they don't know how tomake another child feel
good. Observations ofunpopular children atplay show,
forexample, that they aremuch more likely than others
tocheat, sulk, quit when losing, orshow offand brag
about winning. Ofcourse, most children want towin at
agame—but win orlose, most children areable tocon-
tain their emotional reaction sothat itdoes not under-
mine the relationship with the friend they play games
with.
While children who aresocially tone-deaf—who con-
tinually have trouble reading and responding toemo-
tions—end upassocial isolates, this does not apply, of
course, tochildren who gothrough atemporary period
offeeling leftout. But forthose who arecontinually ex-
cluded and rejected, their painful outcast status clings to478/661

them asthey continue their school years. The con-
sequences ofending upatthesocial margins arepoten-
tially great asachild continues oninto adulthood. For
one, itisinthecauldron ofclose friendships and thetu-
mult ofplay that children refine thesocial and emotion-
alskills that they will bring torelationships later inlife.
Children who areexcluded from this realm oflearning
are, inevitably, disadvantaged.
Understandably, those who are rejected report great
anxiety and many worries, aswell asbeing depressed
and lonely. Infact, how popular achild was inthird
grade hasbeen shown tobeabetter predictor ofmental-
health problems at age eighteen than anything
else—teachers' and nurses' ratings, school performance
and IQ,even scores onpsychological tests.44And, aswe
have seen, inlater stages oflife people who have few
friends and arechronically lonely areatgreater risk for
medical diseases and an early death.
Aspsychoanalyst Harry Stack Sullivan pointed out, we
learn how tonegotiate intimate relations—to work out
differences and share our deepest feelings—in our first
close friendships with same-sex chums. But children
who aresocially rejected areonly half aslikely astheir
peers tohave abest friend during the crucial years of
elementary school, and somiss outonone oftheessen-
tial chances for emotional growth.45One friend can479/661

make the difference—even when allothers turn their
backs (and even when that friendship isnot allthat
solid).
COACHING FOR FRIENDSHIP
There ishope forrejected children, despite their inept-
ness. Steven Asher, aUniversity ofIllinois psychologist,
has designed aseries of"friendship coaching" sessions
forunpopular children that has shown some success.46
Identifying third and fourth graders who were theleast
liked intheir classes, Asher gave them sixsessions in
how to"make playing games more fun" through being
"friendly, fun, and nice." Toavoid stigma, thechildren
were told that they were acting as"consultants" tothe
coach, who was trying tolearn what kinds ofthings
make it more enjoyable to play games.
The children were coached toactinways Asher had
found typical ofmore popular children. For example,
they were encouraged tothink ofalternative suggestions
and compromises (rather than fighting) ifthey disagree
about therules; toremember totalk with and askques-
tions about theother child while they play; tolisten and
look atthe other child tosee how he's doing; tosay
something nice when the other person does well; to
smile and offer help orsuggestions and encouragement.
The children also tried out these basic social amenities480/661

while playing games such asPick-up Sticks with aclass-
mate, and were coached afterward onhow well they did.
This minicourse ingetting along had aremarkable ef-
fect: ayear later thechildren who were coached—all of
whom were selected because they were theleast-liked in
their class—were now solidly inthemiddle ofclassroom
popularity. None were social stars, but none were
rejects.
Similar results have been found byStephen Nowicki,
anEmory University psychologist.47His program trains
social outcasts tohone their ability toread and respond
appropriately toother children's feelings. The children,
forexample, arevideotaped while practicing expression
offeelings such ashappiness and sadness, and are
coached toimprove their emotional expressiveness.
They then tryout their newly honed skills with achild
they want to make friends with.
Such programs have reported a50to60percent suc-
cess rate inraising thepopularity ofrejected children.
These programs (atleast aspresently designed) seem to
work best forthird and fourth graders rather than chil-
dren inhigher grades, and tobemore helpful forso-
cially inept children than forhighly aggressive ones. But
that isallamatter forfine-tuning; the hopeful sign is
that many ormost rejected children can bebrought into481/661

the circle offriendship with some basic emotional
coaching.
DRINKING AND DRUGS: ADDICTION
AS SELF-MEDICATION
Students atthe local campus call itdrinking toblack
—bingeing onbeer tothepoint ofpassing out. One of
thetechniques: attach afunnel toagarden hose, sothat
acan ofbeer can bedowned inabout tenseconds. The
method isnotanisolated oddity. One survey found that
two fifths ofmale college students down seven ormore
drinks atatime, while 11percent call themselves "heavy
drinkers." Another term, of course, might be
"alcoholics."48About half ofcollege men and almost 40
percent ofwomen have atleast two binge-drinking epis-
odes in a month.49
While intheUnited States use ofmost drugs among
young people generally tapered offinthe1980s, there is
asteady trend toward more alcohol useatever-younger
ages. A1993 survey found that 35percent ofcollege wo-
men said they drank togetdrunk, while just 10percent
did soin1977; overall, one inthree students drinks to
getdrunk. That poses other risks: 90percent ofallrapes
reported oncollege campuses happened when either the
assailant orthe victim—or both—had been drinking.50482/661

Alcohol-related accidents aretheleading cause ofdeath
among young people between fifteen and twenty-four.51
Experimentation with drugs and alcohol might seem a
rite ofpassage foradolescents, but this first taste can
have long-lasting results forsome. For most alcoholics
and drug abusers, the beginnings ofaddiction can be
traced totheir teen years, though few ofthose who so
experiment end upasalcoholics ordrug abusers. Bythe
time students leave high school, over 90percent have
tried alcohol, yetonly about 14percent eventually be-
come alcoholics; ofthe millions ofAmericans who ex-
perimented with cocaine, fewer than 5percent became
addicted.52What makes the difference?
Tobesure, those living inhigh-crime neighborhoods,
where crack issold onthecorner and thedrug dealer is
the most prominent local model ofeconomic success,
aremost atrisk forsubstance abuse. Some may end up
addicted through becoming small-time dealers them-
selves, others simply because oftheeasy access orapeer
culture that glamorizes drugs—a factor that heightens
therisk ofdrug useinany neighborhood, even (and per-
haps especially) themost well-off. But still thequestion
remains, ofthepool ofthose exposed tothese lures and
pressures, and who goontoexperiment, which ones are
most likely to end up with a lasting habit?483/661

One current scientific theory isthat those who stay
with thehabit, becoming increasingly dependent onal-
cohol ordrugs, areusing these substances asamedica-
tion ofsorts, away tosoothe feelings ofanxiety, anger,
ordepression. Through their early experimentation they
hitupon achemical fix, away tocalm the feelings of
anxiety ormelancholy that have tormented them. Thus
ofseveral hundred seventh-and eighth-grade students
tracked fortwo years, itwas those who reported higher
levels ofemotional distress who subsequently went on
tohave thehighest rates ofsubstance abuse.53This may
explain why somany young people areable toexperi-
ment with drugs and drinking without becoming ad-
dicted, while others become dependent almost from the
start: those most vulnerable toaddiction seem tofind in
thedrug oralcohol aninstant way tosoothe emotions
that have distressed them for years.
AsRalph Tarter, apsychologist attheWestern Psychi-
atric Institute and Clinic inPittsburgh, put it,"For
people who arebiologically predisposed, thefirst drink
ordose ofadrug isimmensely reinforcing, inaway oth-
ersjust don't experience. Many recovering drug abusers
tellme, 'The moment Itook myfirst drug, Ifeltnormal
forthe first time.' Itstabilizes them physiologically, at
least intheshort term."54That, ofcourse, isthedevil's484/661

bargain ofaddiction: ashort-term good feeling inex-
change for the steady meltdown of one's life.
Certain emotional patterns seem tomake people more
likely tofind emotional relief inone substance rather
than another. For example, there are two emotional
pathways toalcoholism. One starts with someone who
was highly-strung and anxious inchildhood, who typic-
ally discovers asateenager that alcohol will calm the
anxiety. Very often they arechildren—usually sons—of
alcoholics who themselves have turned toalcohol to
soothe their nerves. One biological marker forthis pat-
tern isundersecretion ofGABA, aneurotransmitter that
regulates anxiety—too little GABA isexperienced asa
high level oftension. One study found that sons ofalco-
holic fathers had low levels ofGABA and were highly
anxious, butwhen they drank alcohol, their GABA levels
rose astheir anxiety fell.55These sons ofalcoholics drink
toease their tension, finding inalcohol arelaxation that
they could not seem togetotherwise. Such people may
bevulnerable toabusing sedatives aswell asalcohol for
the same anxiety-reduction effect.
Aneuropsychological study ofsons ofalcoholics who
atage twelve showed signs ofanxiety such asa
heightened heart rate inresponse tostress, aswell as
impulsivity, found the boys also had poor frontal lobe
functioning.56Thus the brain areas that might have485/661

helped ease their anxiety orcontrol their impulsiveness
brought them less help than inother boys. And since the
pre-frontal lobes also handle working memory—which
holds inmind theconsequences ofvarious routes ofac-
tion while making adecision—their deficit could support
aslide into alcoholism byhelping them ignore thelong-
term drawbacks ofdrinking, even asthey found anim-
mediate sedation from anxiety through alcohol.
This craving forcalm seems tobeanemotional mark-
erofagenetic susceptibility toalcoholism. Astudy of
thirteen hundred relatives ofalcoholics found that the
children ofalcoholics who were most atrisk forbecom-
ingalcoholics themselves were those who reported hav-
ing chronically high levels ofanxiety. Indeed, the re-
searchers concluded that alcoholism develops insuch
people as "self-medication of anxiety symptoms."57
Asecond emotional pathway toalcoholism comes
from ahigh level ofagitation, impulsivity, and boredom.
This pattern shows upininfancy asbeing restless,
cranky, and hard tohandle, ingrade school ashaving
the "fidgets," hyperactivity, and getting into trouble, a
propensity that, aswehave seen, canpush such children
toseek outfriends onthefringe—sometimes leading to
acriminal career orthediagnosis of"antisocial person-
ality disorder." Such people (and they aremainly men)
have astheir main emotional complaint agitation; their486/661

main weakness isunrestrained impulsivity; their usual
reaction toboredom—which they often feel—is anim-
pulsive search forrisk and excitement. Asadults, people
with this pattern (which may betied todeficiencies in
two other neurotransmitters, serotonin and MAO) find
that alcohol can soothe their agitation. And thefact that
they can't stand monotony makes them ready totryany-
thing; coupled with their general impulsivity, itmakes
them prone toabusing analmost random listofdrugs
besides alcohol.58
While depression can drive some todrink, themeta-
bolic effects ofalcohol often simply worsen thedepres-
sion after ashort lift. People who turn toalcohol asan
emotional palliative dosomuch more often tocalm
anxiety than fordepression; anentirely different class of
drugs soothes the feelings ofpeople who are de-
pressed—at least temporarily. Feeling chronically un-
happy puts people atgreater risk foraddiction tostimu-
lants such ascocaine, which provide adirect antidote to
feeling depressed. One study found that more than half
thepatients being treated ataclinic forcocaine addic-
tion would have been diagnosed with severe depression
before they started their habit, and thedeeper thepre-
ceding depression, the stronger the habit.59
Chronic anger may lead tostill another kind ofsus-
ceptibility. Inastudy offour hundred patients being487/661

treated foraddiction toheroin and other opioids, the
most striking emotional pattern was alifelong difficulty
handling anger and aquickness torage. Some ofthepa-
tients themselves said that with opiates they finally felt
normal and relaxed.60
Though thepredisposition tosubstance abuse may, in
many cases, bebrain-based, the feelings that drive
people to"self-medicate" themselves through drink or
drugs canbehandled without recourse tomedication, as
Alcoholics Anonymous and other recovery programs
have demonstrated fordecades. Acquiring theability to
handle those feelings—soothing anxiety, lifting depres-
sion, calming rage—removes theimpetus tousedrugs or
alcohol inthe first place. These basic emotional skills
are taught remedially intreatment programs fordrug
and alcohol abuse. Itwould befarbetter, ofcourse, if
they were learned early inlife, well before thehabit be-
came established.
NO MORE WARS: A FINAL COMMON
PREVENTIVE PATHWAY
Over thelast decade orso"wars" have been proclaimed,
inturn, onteen pregnancy, dropping out, drugs, and
most recently violence. The trouble with such cam-
paigns, though, isthat they come toolate, after thetar-
geted problem has reached epidemic proportions and488/661

taken firm root inthelives oftheyoung. They arecrisis
intervention, the equivalent ofsolving aproblem by
sending anambulance totherescue rather than giving
aninoculation that would ward offthe disease inthe
first place. Instead ofmore such "wars," what weneed is
tofollow the logic ofprevention, offering our children
theskills forfacing lifethat will increase their chances of
avoiding any and all of these fates.61
Myfocus ontheplace ofemotional and social deficits
isnot todeny the role ofother risk factors, such as
growing upinafragmented, abusive, orchaotic family,
orinanimpoverished, crime-and drug-ridden neigh-
borhood. Poverty itself delivers emotional blows tochil-
dren: poorer children atage five arealready more fear-
ful, anxious, and sad than their better-off peers, and
have more behavior problems such asfrequent tantrums
and destroying things, atrend that continues through
theteen years. The press ofpoverty corrodes family life
too: there tend tobefewer expressions ofparental
warmth, more depression inmothers (who are often
single and jobless), and agreater reliance onharsh pun-
ishments such as yelling, hitting, and physical threats.62
But there isarole that emotional competence plays
over and above family and economic forces—it may be
decisive indetermining the extent towhich any given
child orteenager isundone bythese hardships orfinds a489/661

core ofresilience tosurvive them. Long-term studies of
hundreds ofchildren brought upinpoverty, inabusive
families, orbyaparent with severe mental illness show
that those who areresilient even intheface ofthemost
grinding hardships tend toshare key emotional skills.63
These include awinning sociability that draws people to
them, self-confidence, anoptimistic persistence inthe
face offailure and frustration, the ability torecover
quickly from upsets, and an easygoing nature.
But thevast majority ofchildren face such difficulties
without these advantages. Ofcourse, many ofthese
skills areinnate, theluck ofgenes—but even qualities of
temperament can change forthe better, aswesaw in
Chapter 14.One line ofintervention, ofcourse, ispolit-
ical and economic, alleviating thepoverty and other so-
cial conditions that breed these problems. But apart
from these tactics (which seem tomove ever lower on
thesocial agenda) there ismuch that can beoffered to
children tohelp them grapple better with such debilitat-
ing hardships.
Take thecase ofemotional disorders, afflictions that
about one intwo Americans experiences over thecourse
oflife. Astudy ofarepresentative sample of8,098
Americans found that 48percent suffered from atleast
one psychiatric problem during their lifetime.64Most
severely affected were the 14percent ofpeople who490/661

developed three ormore psychiatric problems atonce.
This group was the most troubled, accounting for60
percent ofallpsychiatric disorders occurring atany one
time, and 90percent ofthemost severe and disabling
ones. While they need intensive care now, theoptimal
approach would be,wherever possible, toprevent these
problems inthefirst place. Tobesure, notevery mental
disorder canbeprevented—but there aresome, and per-
haps many, that can. Ronald Kessler, theUniversity of
Michigan sociologist who did the study, told me, "We
need tointervene early inlife. Take ayoung girlwho has
asocial phobia inthesixth grade, and starts drinking in
junior high school tohandle hersocial anxieties. Byher
late twenties, when sheshows upinourstudy, she's still
fearful, has become both analcohol and drug abuser,
and isdepressed because her lifeissomessed up.The
bigquestion is,what could wehave done early inherlife
to have headed off the whole downward spiral?"
The same holds, ofcourse, fordropping out orviol-
ence, ormost ofthe litany ofperils faced byyoung
people today. Educational programs toprevent one or
another specific problem such asdrug use and violence
have proliferated wildly inthelast decade orso,creating
amini-industry within the education marketplace. But
many ofthem—including many ofthemost slickly mar-
keted and most widely used—have proven tobe491/661

ineffective. Afew, tothe chagrin ofeducators, even
seemed toincrease thelikelihood oftheproblems they
were meant tohead off,particularly drug abuse and teen
sex.
Information Is Not Enough
Aninstructive case inpoint issexual abuse ofchildren.
Asof1993, about two hundred thousand substantiated
cases were reported annually intheUnited States, with
that number growing byabout 10percent peryear. And
while estimates vary widely, most experts agree that
between 20and 30percent ofgirls and about half that
number ofboys arevictims ofsome form ofsexual ab-
use byage seventeen (the figures rise orfalldepending
onhow sexual abuse isdefined, among other factors).65
There isnosingle profile ofachild who isparticularly
vulnerable tosexual abuse, but most feel unprotected,
unable toresist ontheir own, and isolated bywhat has
happened to them.
With these risks inmind, many schools have begun to
offer programs toprevent sexual abuse. Most such pro-
grams are tightly focused onbasic information about
sexual abuse, teaching kids, forexample, toknow the
difference between "good" and "bad" touching, alerting
them tothe dangers, and encouraging them totell an
adult ifanything untoward happens tothem. But a492/661

national survey oftwo thousand children found that this
basic training was little better than nothing—or actually
worse than nothing—in helping children dosomething
toprevent being victimized, whether byaschool bully or
apotential child molester.66Worse, the children who
had only such basic programs and who had sub-
sequendy become victims ofsexual assault were actually
half aslikely toreport itafterward than were children
who had had no programs at all.
By contrast, children given more comprehensive
training—including related emotional and social com-
petences—were better able toprotect themselves against
thethreat ofbeing victimized: they were farmore likely
todemand tobeleft alone, toyell orfight back, to
threaten totell, and toactually tellifsomething bad did
happen tothem. This last benefit—reporting the ab-
use—is preventive inatelling sense: many child mo-
lesters victimize hundreds ofchildren. Astudy ofchild
molesters intheir forties found that, onaverage, they
had one victim amonth since their teenage years. Are-
port onabus driver and ahigh-school computer teacher
reveals they molested about three hundred children
each year between them—yet notone ofthechildren re-
ported the sexual abuse; the abuse came tolight only
after one oftheboys who had been abused bytheteach-
er started to sexually abuse his sister.67493/661

Those children who gotthemore comprehensive pro-
grams were three times more likely than those inmin-
imal programs toreport abuse. What worked sowell?
These programs were notone-shot topics, butwere giv-
enatdifferent levels several times over thecourse ofa
child's school career, aspart ofhealth orsexeducation.
They enlisted parents todeliver themessage tothechild
along with what was taught inschool (children whose
parents didthis were thevery best atresisting threats of
sexual abuse).
Beyond that, social and emotional competences made
the difference. Itisnot enough forachild simply to
know about "good" and "bad" touching; children need
theself-awareness toknow when asituation feels wrong
ordistressing long before thetouching begins. This en-
tails not just self-awareness, but also enough self-con-
fidence and assertiveness totrust and actonthose feel-
ings ofdistress, even intheface ofanadult who may be
trying toreassure her that "it's okay." And then achild
needs arepertoire ofways todisrupt what isabout to
happen—everything from running away tothreatening
totell. Forthese reasons, thebetter programs teach chil-
dren tostand upforwhat they want, toassert their
rights rather than bepassive, toknow what their bound-
aries are and defend them.494/661

The most effective programs, then, supplemented the
basic sexual-abuse information with essential emotional
and social skills. These programs taught children tofind
ways tosolve interpersonal conflicts more positively, to
have more self-confidence, not toblame themselves if
something happened, and tofeel they had anetwork of
support inteachers and parents whom they could turn
to.And ifsomething bad didhappen tothem, they were
far more likely to tell.
The Active Ingredients
Such findings have ledtoareenvisioning ofwhat thein-
gredients ofanoptimal prevention program should be,
based onthose that impartial evaluations showed tobe
truly effective. Inafive-year project sponsored bythe
W.T.Grant Foundation, aconsortium ofresearchers
studied this landscape and distilled the active ingredi-
ents that seemed crucial tothe success ofthose pro-
grams that worked.68The listofkey skills theconsorti-
umconcluded should becovered, nomatter what specif-
icproblem itisdesigned toprevent, reads like thein-
gredients ofemotional intelligence (see Appendix Dfor
the full list).69
The emotional skills include self-awareness; identify-
ing, expressing, and managing feelings; impulse control
and delaying gratification; and handling stress and495/661

anxiety. Akey ability inimpulse control isknowing the
difference between feelings and actions, and learning to
make better emotional decisions byfirst controlling the
impulse toact, then identifying alternative actions and
their consequences before acting. Many competences
are interpersonal: reading social and emotional cues,
listening, being able toresist negative influences, taking
others' perspectives, and understanding what behavior
is acceptable in a situation.
These areamong thecore emotional and social skills
forlife, and include atleast partial remedies formost, if
not all, ofthe difficulties Ihave discussed inthis
chapter. The choice ofspecific problems these skills
might inoculate against isnearly arbitrary—similar
cases fortherole ofemotional and social competences
could have been made for, say, unwanted teen preg-
nancy or teen suicide.
Tobesure, thecauses ofallsuch problems arecom-
plex, interweaving differing ratios ofbiological destiny,
family dynamics, thepolitics ofpoverty, and theculture
ofthestreets. Nosingle kind ofintervention, including
one targeting emotions, can claim todothewhole job.
But tothe degree emotional deficits add toachild's
risk—and wehave seen that they add agreat deal—at-
tention must bepaid toemotional remedies, not tothe
exclusion ofother answers, but along with them. The496/661

next question is,what would aneducation intheemo-
tions look like?
*Inchildren, unlike adults, medication isnot aclear
alternative totherapy orpreventive education fortreat-
ingdepression; children metabolize medications differ-
ently than doadults. Tricyclic antidepressants, often
successful with adults, have failed incontrolled studies
with children toprove better than aninactive placebo
drug. Newer depression medications, including Prozac,
areasyetuntested foruseinchildren. And desipramine,
one ofthe most common (and safest) tricyclics used
with adults, has, atthis writing, become the focus of
FDA scrutiny as a possible cause of death in children.497/661

16
Schooling the Emotions
The main hope ofanation liesintheproper edu-
cation of its youth.
—ERASMUS
It'sastrange roll call, going around thecircle offifteen
fifth graders sitting Indian-style onthefloor. Asateach-
ercalls their names thestudents respond not with the
vacant "Here" standard inschools, butinstead callouta
number that indicates how they feel; one means low
spirits, ten high energy.
Today spirits are high:
"Jessica."
"Ten: I'm jazzed, it's Friday."
"Patrick."
"Nine: excited, a little nervous."
"Nicole."
"Ten: peaceful, happy…"
It's aclass inSelf Science atthe Nueva Learning
Center, aschool retrofitted into what used tobethe
grand manse ofthe Crocker family, the dynasty that
founded one ofSan Francisco's biggest banks. Now the
building, which resembles aminiature version ofthe

San Francisco Opera House, houses aprivate school
that offers what may beamodel course inemotional
intelligence.
The subject inSelf Science isfeelings—your own and
those that erupt inrelationships. The topic, byitsvery
nature, demands that teachers and students focus onthe
emotional fabric ofachild's life—a focus that isdeterm-
inedly ignored inalmost every other classroom inAmer-
ica. The strategy here includes using the tensions and
traumas ofchildren's lives asthetopic oftheday. Teach-
ersspeak toreal issues—hurt over being leftout, envy,
disagreements that could escalate into aschoolyard
battle. AsKaren Stone McCown, developer ofthe Self
Science Curriculum and director ofNueva, put it,
"Learning doesn't take place inisolation from kids' feel-
ings. Being emotionally literate isasimportant for
learning as instruction in math and reading."1
Self Science isapioneer, anearly harbinger ofanidea
that isspreading toschools coast tocoast. *Names for
these classes range from "social development" to"life
skills" to"social and emotional learning." Some, refer-
ring toHoward Gardner's idea ofmultiple intelligences,
use the term "personal intelligences." The common
thread isthegoal ofraising thelevel ofsocial and emo-
tional competence inchildren asapart oftheir regular
education—not just something taught remedially to499/661

children who arefaltering and identified as"troubled,"
butasetofskills and understandings essential forevery
child.
The emotional-literacy courses have some remote
roots intheaffective-education movement ofthe1960s.
The thinking then was that psychological and motiva-
tional lessons were more deeply learned ifthey involved
animmediate experience ofwhat was being taught con-
ceptually. The emotional-literacy movement, though,
turns theterm affective education inside out—instead of
using affect to educate, it educates affect itself.
More immediately, many ofthese courses and themo-
mentum fortheir spread come from anongoing series of
school-based prevention programs, each targeting aspe-
cific problem: teen smoking, drug abuse, pregnancy,
dropping out, and most recently violence. Aswesaw in
thelast chapter, theW.T.Grant Consortium's study of
prevention programs found they arefarmore effective
when they teach acore ofemotional and social compet-
ences, such asimpulse control, managing anger, and
finding creative solutions tosocial predicaments. From
this principle anew generation ofinterventions has
emerged.
Aswesaw inChapter 15,interventions designed to
target thespecific deficits inemotional and social skills
that undergird problems such as aggression or500/661