Addiction as Entrenchment
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With an account, you can revise, criticize, and comment on ideas.Curing addiction
If I’m right that the cause of addiction is an entrenched conflict between preferences (#3040), then there’s a simple cure for addiction:1 common-preference finding with yourself.
Common-preference finding is a concept I am borrowing from a parenting philosophy called Taking Children Seriously (TCS), cofounded by David Deutsch:
A common preference is a solution to a problem, or resolution of a disagreement, that all parties prefer to their prima facie positions, and to all other candidate solutions they can think of. It is the solution that pleases everyone involved in the disagreement.
I think common-preference finding is not only the solution to conflicts between people, but also to conflicts between preferences inside a single person. When such conflicts inside a single mind are entrenched, we are dealing with addiction. Since addiction is a special kind of conflict, the solution to addiction is the same as the solution to conflicts generally: common-preference finding.
Take an alcoholic. The two entrenched preferences, in the simplest possible terms, are: to drink, and to stop drinking. In this context, I think it helps to view this single alcoholic as two people. In other words, we can view each preference as a person, or an autonomous actor of sorts. Not because the alcoholic necessarily has a split personality in the clinical sense – although we’ll soon see that the addict acts as his own adversary – but because it helps illustrate the logic behind common-preference finding: it’s fundamentally no different within a single person than across people.
So again, let’s view an alcoholic as two people, just as a thought experiment. They’re forced to be roommates and combine their finances. One of them wants to drink and spend their money on alcohol, whereas the other does not want that. Moving out – choosing not to associate – is not an option because there’s no freedom of association inside a single mind. Although we may choose not to be roommates with an alcoholic, the alcoholic has no choice but to be roommates with himself.
How are these two ‘people’ to live together in harmony? As long as they’re in conflict, they will try to undermine each other. One will put the liquor in the top cabinet to make it harder to reach – the other will get it anyway. One will ask a friend to hold on to his credit card, the other will convince that same friend to give it back.
We can see the same self-adversarial dynamic in addictions to various things. For example, somebody asked (emphasis mine):
What can I do against my addiction to certain websites? I'm addicted to some sites, and I already tried to block them, but I always go back to unblock. I always waste a lot of time on them, and I'm annoyed by myself than I can[’t] stay away from them.
Do you see the dynamic? He’s like two people: person A blocks the website, until the urge to visit it gets too strong and person B unblocks it. Then person A gets annoyed at person B – who was presumably annoyed at person A for blocking the site in the first place. And the only way to get (temporary) relief from this conflict is to indulge and visit the site again – or so it seems.
This person’s frustration makes it easier to see that, again, knowledge inside a single mind does not act fundamentally differently from knowledge across minds. When you’re in conflict with somebody else, you may feel hopeless at times, like there’s no way to reach that person. If only they’d listen to reason! But that situation is not fundamentally different when that other person is yourself. People sometimes think you should be able to just ‘will away’ those conflicting preferences inside you, but that isn’t always easier to do with yourself than it is with someone else.
Somebody responded to the tortured soul above. Again we see the same self-adversarial dynamic at play:
I have the same problem.
The only solution I have is to remove your accounts completely, or make it so that you can never login again.
A good way for this is to implement a 2-way verification on your account with an Authentication app, then you logout, remove your TOKENS in the Authentication app, and then clear the web browser. You can also reset the backup codes for the 2 way authentication before log out the final time and don't save them.
Now you are out for good.
Except you’re not. Remember, the addict is his own creative adversary. He’ll find ways to get what he wants, at his own expense. So the same respondent immediately contradicts himself (emphasis mine):
I did this, but I managed to get back in by talking to the owner of the site. Why did I do this? 😔
The key is to never give yourself the permission to never under any circumstances look at the site again. … If you look at the site again, I will guarantee you that you will find a way to get back in.
In other words, this person suggests that the ‘solution’ to this conflict between preferences is to entrench it even further by having one run roughshod over the other. That’s not a solution. On the contrary, I suspect it would just frustrate that other part of him, which would then want to visit the site even more, and find even more creative ways to visit it. If somebody else disregarded your preferences, wouldn’t you feel justified in disregarding theirs? Yes. Why should that be any different when that somebody else is yourself? It isn’t.
This respondent continues:
Find something else to do. Because you can not [sic] remove a habbit [sic], you [c]an only replace it by something else. This is the secret [to] habbit building. Maybe every time you feel the urge to look at the website, take a book from your bookshelf and start reading that instead.
Hope this helps.
Now, whether reading is an actual solution to this conflict depends on the person. Given this respondent’s previous statements, I suspect he’s merely suggesting another form of self-coercion: read whether you like it or not. Again, that will not work; it may well worsen the addiction. But if reading is something both parts of him prefer to their respective initial position, then the addiction should disappear quickly because there’s no reason for either part to continue holding its initial position.
The logic would be the same for the alcoholic from our thought experiment: if part A of his mind wants to spend money on alcohol, while part B wants to spend that money on movie tickets instead, but then they find they both prefer to spend the money on a new book, then they will be in harmony again.
In short, the cure to addiction is common-preference finding with yourself. Unfortunately, there’s no predetermined recipe that you could follow. What you can do, though, is best described by the quote from The Beginning of Infinity from #760:
[W]hat is necessary for progress is to exclude ideas that fail to survive criticism, and to prevent their entrenchment, and to promote the creation of new ideas.
By definition, once you’re addicted, it’s too late to prevent entrenchment. But that still leaves two possible actions: discarding ideas that fail to survive criticism and promoting the creation of new ideas. In essence, using Veritula.
The cure for addiction is to create new ideas until you find at least one that you are completely unconflicted about.
Simple, not necessarily easy! Also, I don’t think addiction (of the mind) is a disease, so I use the term ‘cure’ loosely/figuratively.
I’ve been developing a new research program toward a unified theory of creation: that of finding parallels between different creative processes such as the economy and the mind in hopes that such parallels may shed light on creation generally.
My own remarks in #4624 about the self-adversarial dynamic of addiction remind me of Ayn Rand’s thoughts on pressure groups in a mixed economy. I’m seeing parallels between a mixed economy and the addict’s mind:
A mixed economy is a mixture of freedom and controls—with no principles, rules, or theories to define either. Since the introduction of controls necessitates and leads to further controls, it is an unstable, explosive mixture which, ultimately, has to repeal the controls or collapse into dictatorship.
Similarly, I oppose the introduction of controls in the addict’s life, such as the various tricks people describe to stay off websites. Note also the parallel to the addict’s life being unstable, and having to either cure the addiction or collapse into self-destruction. Continuing in Rand’s text:
A mixed economy has no principles to define its policies, its goals, its laws—no principles to limit the power of its government. The only principle of a mixed economy—which, necessarily, has to remain unnamed and unacknowledged—is that no one's interests are safe, everyone's interests are on a public auction block, and anything goes for anyone who can get away with it.
Such is the dynamic between the warring preferences in an addict’s mind.
Such a system—or, more precisely, anti-system—breaks up a country into an ever-growing number of enemy camps, into economic groups fighting one another for self preservation in an indeterminate mixture of defense and offense, as the nature of such a jungle demands.
An addict’s mind is just such a jungle.
While, politically, a mixed economy preserves the semblance of an organized society with a semblance of law and order, economically it is the equivalent of the chaos that had ruled China for centuries: a chaos of robber gangs looting—and draining—the productive elements of the country.
Similarly, addicts can appear to have a functioning life while quietly destroying themselves.
A mixed economy is rule by pressure groups. It is an amoral, institutionalized civil war of special interests and lobbies, all fighting to seize a momentary control of the legislative machinery, to extort some special privilege at one another's expense by an act of government—i.e., by force.
This is exactly how I see the dynamic inside an addict’s mind. The conflicting preferences coerce each other repeatedly and fight for momentary control of the self.
In the absence of individual rights, in the absence of any moral or legal principles, a mixed economy's only hope to preserve its precarious semblance of order, to restrain the savage, desperately rapacious groups it itself has created, and to prevent the legalized plunder from running over into plain, unlegalized looting of all by all—is compromise; compromise on everything and in every realm—material, spiritual, intellectual—so that no group would step over the line by demanding too much and topple the whole rotted structure.
Likewise, it is compromise, not common-preference finding, that dominates the addict’s life: he spends some of his time indulging in his addiction, and some of his time abstaining, being conflicted during both.
If the game is to continue, nothing can be permitted to remain firm, solid, absolute, untouchable; everything (and everyone) has to be fluid, flexible, indeterminate, approximate. By what standard are anyone's actions to be guided? By the expediency of any immediate moment.
Likewise, the addicts’ actions are less guided by principle and more by the expediency of the immediate moment. As his addiction worsens, the harder it is for him to live his life long-range. If the conflicting preferences are part good and part bad, then the bad will drive out the good (see Rand’s essay ‘The Anatomy of Compromise’). This dynamic, along with the entrenchment of error, explains why addiction worsens automatically when left unaddressed.
The only danger, to a mixed economy, is any not-to-be-compromised value, virtue, or idea. The only threat is any uncompromising person, group, or movement. The only enemy is integrity.
Integrity describes a mind that is unconflicted.
As long as the conflict between an addict’s preferences remains, they act as pressure groups inside his mind. Just as the government of a mixed economy, the role of the addict’s self is reduced to that of arbiter between these pressure groups inside his mind. These pressure groups can at best temporarily get what they want, at the cost of the other, which will then clamor even louder to get what it wants, and so on, until the entrenchment is so severe, and error correction so hopeless, that this self-adversarial dynamic ends, as is the case for severe drug addictions, in prison or even death.
As Rand explain in ‘The Anatomy of Compromise’, this spiral can only be stopped by a reversal of basic principles: not compromising between conflicting preferences, or trying to live with that compromise, but instead viewing those preferences as individual actors with rights, who will (and should) only cooperate when they can get what they truly want.