Monday, December 19, 2011

Confirmation Bias

Okay, having gotten that pathetic rant off my chest, it's time for me to post something a little more serious.  If you're not particularly interested in Harry Potter, please bear with me; I have a larger point to make.

     As I noted in my previous post, Pottermore's sorting algorithm sorted me into Ravenclaw, choosing that House for me over the other three Houses: Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin.  These are the four Hogwarts Houses in the Harry Potter series.  The story goes that Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was founded by four people, each with very different perspectives on what traits are most desirable in students.  Godric Gryffindor thought that courage, chivalry and loyalty were most important.  Helga Hufflepuff also valued loyalty, along with tenacity and hard work.  Rowena Ravenclaw preferred students with great intelligence, creativity, and wit.  Finally, Salazar Slytherin expected ambition, cunning, and resourcefulness.
     I have always self-identified as a Ravenclaw - those are the traits I value most in myself - and so I was very pleased when Pottermore placed me in that House.
     Why?
     Well, I suppose I was pleased because I felt that Pottermore - coming to me from the august hand of J.K. Rowling - was somehow confirming my identity.  Looking back on it a few months later, of course that's silly.  The sorting algorithm selected one out of four choices, based on my answers to seven multiple-choice questions (some of which were apparently meaningless).  None of the questions actually tested my intelligence, creativity, or wit - they were all usual personality-quiz stuff.
     So what if Pottermore had sorted me into, say, Gryffindor?
     Well, of course it would be flat-out wrong.  I have absolutely no semblance of courage whatsoever.  I would be completely stunned.  When I recovered from the initial shock, I would tell myself that the computer algorithm was badly written by programmers from "TH_NK" who either had never read the Harry Potter books, or had absolutely no idea how to create a personality quiz, and its answer had nothing to do with me.  The next stage would be to spout long, angry rants to my friends about how ridiculous the sorting quiz was.  I might try to bargain with myself, wondering if perhaps I had somehow answered a question incorrectly.  Eventually I would probably fall into despair: "Maybe it's right, maybe I'm not really intelligent or creative after all…"  I might wish I could create a new account and go through the sorting again, but of course it's still in Beta, and there's no way anyone can create a new account for months, leading to the fifth and final stage: acceptance.
     Of course, I was sorted into Ravenclaw, and so I wrote in a gleeful blog post that I was "glad J.K. Rowling agrees."
     The personality quiz told me nothing meaningful.  I joke about the so-called "five stages of grief," but really I know better than to take Pottermore that seriously.  I have always seen myself as a Ravenclaw kind of person, and no online questionnaire could ever change that.
     I admit to being proud of my mental abilities, such as they are.  Trouble is, I'm not proud of being proud.  Really I've always admired Hufflepuffs.  It's a shame that Hufflepuff is so maligned - most Harry Potter fans see it as the fourth House, which gets the leftover students that aren't brave enough for Gryffindor, or smart enough for Ravenclaw, or ambitious enough for Slytherin.  Not so: Hufflepuff, at least to me, represents all the nicest qualities a person can have.  All the other Houses are, as a whole, stuck-up and self-involved.
     Recently I was surprised when this subject came up in conversation and a friend said that I'm a "Ravenpuff" - part Ravenclaw, part Hufflepuff.  If you're not a Harry Potter fan, I hope I've conveyed the meaning of that well enough that you won't think I'm completely insane when I say that that is probably one of the nicest things that anyone has ever said to me.

     …but this post is not about my ego.  Time to broaden the subject: Who am I?  Or better yet, who are you?  (I said I had a larger point to make.)
     When you were in school (or if you are in school now - well, not right now, but you get the point), were you seen as a geek or a jock?  Popular or a loner?  Regardless of who we are, we are all deeply affected by the boxes that other people put us in.  On some level, we all put ourselves in these boxes as well.  I have placed myself in the Ravenclaw box and the corresponding "nerd" box.  The ironic thing is that, when I think about it, I've always been quite popular, but I've never felt popular.
     There is more to your identity than the actual inherent traits that make up your mind and body.  Your identity is shaped by society, by the people around you, by the situations you encounter and the decisions you make.  "It is our choices, Harry, that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities."  And not choices on a silly personality quiz.
     Of course, like everything else in life, one must account for perspective.  I was thrilled to be called a Ravenpuff (silly as it might sound), but I have friends who self-identify as Slytherins and are quite happy as such.  Some people who think of themselves as nerds are ashamed of that status, while others are proud of it.  That's part of their identity, too.
     So, again, who are you?  Well, let's start with what I know.  You have access to an Internet connection and an Internet-enabled device.  You can read English, or you're using some kind of translator.  Judging by my blog's statistics, there is a very good chance that you are one of my personal friends or relatives.  If not, hello, and I hope you're not too bored.  I tend to ramble.  Blah blah blah blah blah…
     What was I saying?  Oh yes: Who are you?  Well, a biologist would say you are a collection of cells and chemical processes running elaborate programs set in your DNA.  A theologian would say that you are a miracle, a lump of clay into which God has breathed the breath of life.  A philosopher would say that you think, therefore you are (but isn't likely to get any less vague than that).  A politician would say that your vote counts.  Your doctor would call you a patient, your favorite musician would call you a fan, your mother will call you things you pray the world will never hear, and telemarketers will call you just as you sit down to dinner.
     Of course, all of that says a lot more about them than it does about you.  So what's my point?  I don't know.  I guess a person's identity is a pretty complicated thing.  That's why so many people have spent so much time thinking about it.
     And me?  What do I call you?  I call you one of my very few readers, and I thank you.

     When I write some of these more-philosophical blog posts, I feel like I'm asking questions that I don't know the answer to, and then trying to answer them anyway.  I write things that sound like opinions, but really I'm trying to form an opinion as I go.  When I write about myself, I sometimes feel like I'm playing a part, because I'm never sure exactly what to say.  I re-read my previous post, and I think it doesn't sound like me - well, I was in a different mood, a different situation…
     And there it is, there's my point.  I don't know who I am.  I don't know what I want to be.  I am a completely different person now than I was ten years ago, and I have no idea what the next ten years may bring.


2 comments:

  1. You’ve tapped two of my favorite writers in your identity quest/exploration (Rowling/Simon). I wish I’d had you in my HP classes when I taught them a few years back. I tried so hard (with the older group) to tap into some of the more philosophical elements of the series, but students were generally more eager for the crafty/magic type activities. Doggedly though, I’d lead them back to discussion about the deeper issues: “houses” and Rowling’s (typically postmodern) interest in identity (along with racism, segregation, etc.), being one of them. My point at the time was that she ends her thoughts on that subject by having everyone sitting at the same table in the Great Hall after the Battle of Hogwarts (even the Malfoys). We’d look at the houses as her representation of traditional typological identification systems (4 elements [air, water, fire, earth] 4 humors [sanguine, phlegmatic, choleric, melancholic], etc.) – all attempts to button down identity, name it and thereby attempt to keep it stable. When asked about this, Rowling has said “it was this idea of harmony and balance… that you had four necessary components and by integrating them you would make a very strong place… But they remain fragmented, as we know.” Anyway, you’re inspiring me to reconsider offering a class next fall that I’ve been thinking of for awhile now – a HP and philosophy class (sans crafts) for the older crowd. We’ve already put the “crafts” class back on the schedule for next fall – by popular demand -- for the younger kiddos and while I’m back at it, I think the philosophy class would be a nice pairing. Anyway, I like your starting with Rowling as you look at identity – certainly it’s a habit of authors to question identity as they explore and try to pin down characters. Then of course, I like your ending too – Paul Simon is someone I’ve always identified with and come back to again and again. It’s funny how much we use music as identification (especially in youth). I could go on and on about Paul Simon, but to keep this comment from exceeding the length of the post, I’ll hold that for another conversation. In the meantime – I’m holding this hostage as your bio until I hear otherwise. It’s longer than most of your essays this semester (those I’ve received – not to nag or anything :) This way we’ll get a true representation of your writing abilities in the book!

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  2. Another fabulous post! It actually made me laugh out loud (and PinonKnitter's comment almost brought literal tears of joy).

    But I must disagree on one point. You claim to have no courage, but you do. You put yourself out there with this post. You hate performing in front of an audience, but you do it again and again and do it so well. That is real courage.

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