When you move the little virtual slider on your music player to adjust the volume, do you know what you’re changing? Obviously you’re adjusting the volume, but what characteristics are you manipulating in order to modify the sound that comes out of the device? And why is sound still clearly audible when the volume control is set to 5 percent? It turns out that sound is actually really complicated, and there’s probably no chance of understanding the science behind it without a great deal of studying. But studying is boring and hard, and it’s way more fun and way easier to read an article that simplifies a concept so that we can pretend to understand it and feel smart. Here we go.

Before we try to understand something like a volume control, we first need to know how sound actually works and how we interpret and measure it. Sound is air vibrating. That’s right, sound is the vibration of air pressure. The frequency of the sound is determined by the wavelength, which is the number of oscillations per second (hz). Frequency doesn’t determine loudness, but the pitch of the sound.

The amplitude of the sound wave is the distance between the wave’s peaks and troughs, and it indicates sound pressure. It is the pressure of the wave as it enters our ear which determines the loudness of a sound. But the perceived loudness of a sound is also influenced by frequency, distance, duration, interference, atmospheric pressure and particle velocity.

Loudness is the ear’s subjective measurement of sound, similar to how our skin senses the temperature of a surface. As with temperature, our body doesn’t say anything concrete about the sound in our ears, it just tells us how loud it is and what it sounds like. The intensity of a sound is probably the closest measurement to objective loudness, and it’s an expression of the sound power per unit area (power is equal to amplitude squared).

Interestingly, our ears interpret sound on a logarithmic scale, so a sound with twice the intensity of another does not seem twice as loud to us. Similarly, a tone with twice the frequency of another doesn’t seem twice as high. This means that it’s more difficult to differentiate between sounds at higher frequencies and amplitudes.

Our logarithmic hearing also causes a problem when attempting to plot sound intensity. The minimum intensity detectable by humans is somewhere around 10^-12 watts/m², and an intensity that can begin to cause pain is about  10 watts/m². This means our maximum intensity level is one trillion times as intense as our minimum. Working with such huge values make plotting extremely difficult, and it doesn’t convey our perception of sound very well.

For example, let’s imagine that we’re at a rock concert with the sound blasting at 10 watts/m². Our friend leans over and says something in a normal speaking voice of 10^-6 watts/m². Would we say that the rock concert is a million times louder than our friend? Probably not (at least not literally).

In order to correct this issue, we use a logarithmic scale to measure sound. The most common unit of measure used to represent the loudness of a sound is the decibel. However, the decibel isn’t really a unit, but a logarithmic relationship between two quantities of the same unit (usually some form of power). When used in the realm of sound measurement, decibels often represent sound intensity (dB IL) or sound pressure level (dB SPL). Intensity is equal to pressure squared, so the conversion between intensity level and sound pressure level is simple. The intensity decibel ratio is defined as

I_dB = 10 log₁₀(I₁/I₀)

where I₁ is the sound intensity and I₀ is the reference level (the threshold for human hearing). Plotting intensity using the decibel gives us a logarithmic graph that more closely represents the ear’s perception of sound.

So instead of measuring a massive range of values of sound intensity in watts/m², we can simply present the same range of values as a scale between 0 dB and 120 dB. This is similar to another logarithmic scale, the Richter scale, which was created by American writer, actor and comedian, Andy Richter, and it measures the magnitude of an earthquake.

While the decibel allows us to more easily understand and convey the range of human hearing, it doesn’t really solve the problem of comparing loudness using numbers. A 10 dB increase will approximately double the perceived loudness of a sound. This means that the 120 dB rock concert is roughly 32 times louder than our friend speaking at 70 dB. But if the rock concert isn’t a million times louder than our friend, and it isn’t 32 times louder, how much louder is it? Andy Richter understood the dangers of using scales like the decibel, even stating that, “…logarithmic plots are a device of the devil.”

Since hearing is subjective, there isn’t really a precise formula for comparing loudness. However, we should at least use a scale that intuitively makes sense to us. To accomplish this, we can use weighting techniques to apply curves to the decibel scale. This produces measurements that are correspond more closely to the way we perceive loudness. In addition to correcting the scale, we must also deal with other factors like duration and frequency, because humans interpret loudness differently over time and at different frequencies. Weighting isn’t perfect, but it makes relating sound levels much easier to understand.

Okay, so now that we know a little bit about sound, let’s try to solve our original problem: what is our media player volume control actually controlling? Is it manipulating the power, pressure, intensity, a logarithmic ratio or an entire equalizer full of values? The answer is that it depends on the software.

Most media player volume controls are represented by a little slider, and they come in a variety of shapes and colors. Almost all of these controls are graphically linear, which means that they appear to adjust volume in a linear way. Many of them even display a percent symbol, which clearly indicates that we are setting the volume to a portion of the maximum corresponding to the distance from the left side of the slider.

Some controls implement another dimension, such as color, giving the perception of a logarithmic control. These are usually semi-linear in actuality because the slider contradicts the logarithmic dimension by indicating linearity in another way (like a percent symbol). A logarithmic control is one that represents the change in perceived loudness, and these are rare.

The problem here isn’t that everyone’s using linear controls. On the contrary, a linear control is precisely what a user should expect. After all, users don’t really care about what’s going on behind the scenes – the implementation – they care about the interface, and the interface should be simple and easy to use. Users don’t need or want to know about decibels and sound intensity, they just want to set the volume level to a desired level based on what their intuition tells them about how the control should work. In this matter, right and wrong are a matter of preference. If the control behaves the way users expect, then it is designed correctly.

Simple volume controls adjust loudness two basic ways: by using a decibel scale, and by using a weighted scale. With the first method, we’re controlling a logarithmic scale using a linear control. This means that the perceived loudness increases at a greater rate as the level approaches its maximum, and it also means that the sound is still audible at very low settings (often under 5 percent).

The second method uses weighting to give a more authentic feel. If the maximum setting is a reasonable listening volume (70 to 80 dB), then we should 50 percent of that to be half as loud, not half of the sound intensity or half of the decibels. We should also expect very low settings to be barely, if at all, audible. And this is roughly what we get with this type of control.

Of course, there are many other volume controls – both internal and external – manipulating the loudness of the sound, and each one does it differently.

Next time you’re listening to music or watching a video, check what type of volume control the software uses.

Thanks to food safety programs, most of us are well-schooled in the preparation of safe food. We know that we should wash our hands before cooking, that meat must be cooked to a safe temperature and that we should, according to the FDA, “wash cutting boards, dishes, and utensils (including knives), and countertops with soap and hot water after [emphasis in the original [emphasis added]] they come in contact with raw meat, poultry or seafood.”

Although such food safety steps are largely based on sound science and reason, it’s concerning that the federal government does not consider poultry or seafood to be meat. Anyway, we’ve built a structure of regulations to protect ourselves from contamination. But, like the sanitation triangle, it all comes crashing down as soon as one of the supports is knocked out.

Let’s test our familiarity with food safety by taking a look at an example of a chef cooking a simple dish. See if you can spot any instances of cross contamination.

1. The chef washes his hands thoroughly.
2. He grabs a fresh, uncooked chicken breast from the package and places it on a clean cutting board.
3. Using a clean, sharp knife, the chef fillets the chicken boob.
4. The chef washes his hands thoroughly.
5. Using a clean pair of tongs, he picks up the fillets and places them in a clean, preheated frying pan.
6. He then washes his hands, the cutting board, the knife and the countertop.
7. Using the tongs, the chef flips the meat over to ensure even cooking.
8. After measuring the internal temperature of the meat using a food thermometer, the chef concludes that the meat is safe to consume.
9. He removes the chicken from the frying pan with the tongs and places the cooked meat on a clean plate.
10. The chef washes his hands, the frying pan and the tongs, then serves the dish.

If you said that the contamination occurs at steps 8 and 10, when the chef failed to wash the thermometer, then you’re not correct. Since the thermometer measured a safe cooking temperature, we know that there’s no way that it could be contaminated. Of course, it’s not the most hygienic decision to leave the thermometer uncleaned, as it may eventually pose a problem, but there is no immediate threat of contamination.

The thermometer, though it came into contact with raw meat, endured the cooking process and was raised to a temperature that rendered it safe to consume (if it weren’t a thermometer). However, between transferring the raw chicken to the frying pan, flipping the meat and placing it on the plate, the tongs underwent no such process.

The infraction occurred when our chef, like nearly every cook across the globe, used the same utensil to handle the meat throughout the cooking process in steps 5, 7 and 9. As mentioned earlier, food safety regulations make it clear that we should wash our hands, surfaces and utensils after making contact with uncooked meat, but for some reason we fail to apply this to the tool we use to move our meat.

It’s not clear why we don’t seem concerned about our tongs and spatulas. Perhaps we do secretly recognize the threat, but we subconsciously concede that it would be far too annoying to wash the tool after each time we transfer, rotate, flip, poke, prod and peer underneath our meat. Or maybe, as with bathroom sanitation, we just know that we’re probably going to miss a step somewhere along the way.

We’ve all been there. One moment we’re minding our own business, travelling down the highway on our way to satisfy some temporary urge. Suddenly we notice a vehicle appear to our right, and he wants to merge into our lane.  We know that the merging driver wants to enter our lane, but he has limited time and space to decide exactly how to proceed. Now we’re in a precarious situation with a number of potentially fatal possibilities. Here’s a series of images below depict a common outcome:

Figure 1. The first image shows a dark sedan reaching the merge lane, while a white pickup truck is proceeding in the right lane.

Figure 2. Noticing the sedan, the driver of the pickup begins to move into the left lane.

Figure 3. Realizing that the pickup is moving into the far lane, the driver of the sedan begins to merge.

Figure 4. The sedan continues merge uninhibited now that the pickup is out of the way.

Figure 5. The sedan’s merge is nearly complete.

Figure 6. The merge is now complete. Both vehicles continue travelling safely down the highway.

Most find the events detailed above fairly unremarkable. In fact, they might even say that it was a great example of a driver etiquette and caution on the part of the pickup driver, but the truth is nothing of the sort. Noticing that the sedan was travelling alongside him, the driver of the pickup was faced with three basic options:

1. Slow down and let the sedan merge in front of him.
2. Accelerate in order to allow the sedan to merge behind him.
3. Continue at the same speed.

The driver of the sedan also has three similar options:

1. Slow down speed and attempt to merge behind the pickup.
2. Accelerate in order to merge ahead of the pickup.
3. Continue to merge at the same speed.

It’s kind of like playing a game rock-paper-scissors, with each driver trying to anticipate the other’s next move. Here’s a table showing the possible results:

Pickup Choice	Sedan Choice
	Slow down	Accelerate	Continue at Same Speed
Slow Down	Crash	No crash	No crash
Accelerate	No crash	Crash	No crash
Continue at Same Speed	No crash	No crash	Crash

As we can see, 3 of the 9 possibilities result in a crash, which is alarming. This is why drivers often choose the secret fourth option: moving into another lane. Of course, this is only possible when there’s another lane in which to move, but doing so circumvents the merging problem entirely. However, it has a serious drawback.

When the pickup driver decides to move over and allow the sedan to merge, he is entering into a lane that could already have traffic in it. This creates another table of possibilities based on the number and speed of vehicles in the left lane. If there is a vehicle in the left lane, then this vehicle and the pickup are now in a nearly identical situation as were the pickup and the sedan. And of course, many highways have more than two lanes, which means that should the driver in the left lane choose to move over, it could result in a third encounter.

The problem here is not that moving out of the right lane to accommodate merging traffic is inherently unsafe, but that it attempts to resolve a crisis by merely shifting the problem to another party. According to traffic regulations, it is the duty of the merging vehicle to match the speed of highway traffic and select a position in which to merge. In the aforementioned case, the pickup driver alleviates the driver of the sedan from this responsibility by taking it upon himself to merge into the left lane. While this act may seem prudent and selfless, it actually has some serious consequences. Here are a few things wrong with this behavior:

1. It forces additional vehicles into a merging scenario, each of which could result in a crash.
2. It slows down traffic in the passing lane.
3. It fosters an expectation for highway traffic to yield to merging drivers.

The third point is more difficult to measure, but its effects are likely the most serious. By yielding to merging traffic, the rules of the road are obscured, and merging drivers come to mistakenly believe that they have the right-of-way. This, in turn, results in a greater number of dangerous merging scenarios, which means more crashes. The whole point of traffic laws like those governing highway merging is to clearly indicate which party has priority, so that we don’t feel like we’re playing rock-paper-scissors.

Now changing lanes to make room for merging traffic is not always unwise. If done with caution and well in advance of the merging lane, it’s a great way to avoid a potentially hazardous situation. Just make sure you’re not merging to avoid merging.

What makes us who we are?

This question seems intriguing, but it’s actually far too vague to have any real meaning. This is also the case when people ask, “what is the meaning of life?” They think they’re being insightful, but without specifying what they’re trying to discover, the answer is made indiscernible, and the question becomes useless. To illustrate this problem, try to determine the meaning of the subject in any of the following questions:

• What is the meaning of broccoli?
• What is the meaning of basketball?
• What is the meaning of five dollars?
• What is the meaning of a question that asks about the meaning of life?

As we can see, asking such poorly-phrased questions leaves far too much room for interpretation. It’s likely that they meant to ask something like, “for what reason was life created?” or “what is the purpose of  human existence?” Now let’s return to our original inquiry, improving its structure in order to allow for a meaningful answer.

What properties possessed by an individual human distinguishes them from other humans?

Even this more pointed question still retains many different avenues of response. After all, a fingerprint is unique and distinguishes each human from all others. But the question seems philosophical in nature, so it probably doesn’t aim to address the mere physical. Its phrasing also suggests that there’s more than one correct answer, though we’re probably just looking for the most interesting and insightful one. Let’s try again.

What feature of a person contains the most crucial and meaningful components that make them a unique individual?

Now we’re onto something. We all know that everyone is unique, and we can easily distinguish one person from others, so let’s start our question for a solution by examining the ways that we tell each other apart and see if one of them satisfies our inquiry.

The first and most obvious way that we recognize each other is by our appearance. It’s true that we’re covered by clothing and makeup much of the time, and it’s also true that each of us has our own fashion sense that we pretend is unique, and yet we’re still able to recognize each other in a swimsuit or bizarre costume. This is because there’s a special part of the brain responsible for facial recognition, and it helps us tell others apart. However, few would agree that our bodies or our faces make us who we are. In the 1997 action movie Face/Off, FBI agent Sean Archer and criminal mastermind Caster Troy (played by John Travolta and Nicholas Cage irrespectively) have their faces switched. While the premise and execution of this film is obviously bad, it teaches us that we aren’t defined by our appearance. There are also those who tragically suffer amputations or facial deformation, and while they may ask serious questions about their own identity and purpose, others certainly identify them as the same person.

Those who subscribe to a materialistic view would likely argue that it’s our genetics that make us who we are. According to them, since everything can be explained by natural processes, then everything about us is derived from our genes: our appearance, ideas and abilities. On top of that, each of us has our own unique genetic code, or do we? Identical twins actually share the same DNA and, while irritatingly similar, they aren’t the same person. If two people with identical genetics can be distinct, then this can’t be what defines us.

The world is full of those whose quest in life is fame and wealth. In many ways their identity is tied to their notoriety and possessions, but even pop culture recognizes that money doesn’t define who we are. In her autobiographical 2001 hit single Jenny From The Block, Jennifer Lopez pleads with audiences, “don’t be fooled by the rocks that I got,” and goes onto claim that despite her wealth and status, “[she’s] still Jenny from the block.” This implies that her identity remains static despite the fact that she, “used to have a little, now [she] has a lot.”

If it isn’t her wealth and fame, maybe Ms. Lopez’ talents and accomplishments as a dancer, singer, songwriter, author, actress, fashion designer and producer that define her. After all, each of us possess unique skills and abilities that make us special (at least that’s what our mothers told us). It’s true that our skills, abilities, achievements, vocations and interests define us to a degree. An example of the value we place on our job is the fact that the first question we ask a new acquaintance is often what do you do? Many of us derive our identity primarily from our profession. However, when we encounter failure, disability or retirement, we’re still us.

So clothes don’t make the man and neither does the body. Our genes don’t make us unique individuals. On top of that, wealth and fame don’t define us and neither do our abilities or achievements. So what could it be? Perhaps we can find the solution by examining cases of people who are no longer identified as the person they once were. Unfortunately there are millions of examples of such cases.

Dementia comes in many forms, the most common being Alzheimer’s disease. Those suffering from dementia experience a number of symptoms including memory loss, memory distortion, speech and language problems, agitation, loss of balance and fine motor skills, delusions, depression and anxiety. These symptoms are caused by changes in the brain brought on by nerve cell damage, protein deposits and other complications. In advanced cases, the person may become unrecognizable to loved ones. Visiting family members may be shocked to find their relative or friend using abusive language, exhibiting violent aggression or making inappropriate sexual comments.

Brain damage can also produce equally drastic changes in people. In her article After Brain Injury: Learning to Love a Stranger, Janet Cromer details the story of her husband, who suffered anoxic brain injury. She discusses the impact of brain injury on her husband’s memory, communication, behavior and personality. She notes that the experience is like getting to know him all over again, summarizing it this way: “Imagine feeling like you’re on a first date even though you’ve been married to this person for… 30 years?”

It’s clear that our identities are largely defined by our personalities. The things we love and hate, the ways we think and act, even our way of standing perfectly still – they all define who we are. When these things change, we change. But there’s more to us than simply what we think, do and say.

The other way that we can observe changes in identity is though memory loss. In addition to the aforementioned cases of dementia, retrograde amnesia can also impair or rewrite personal identity. While most of us have no experience with amnesia, it’s obvious that a loss of knowledge of identity is a loss of identity. After all, how can you be someone you’ve never heard of? But memories don’t just allow us to recognize our own identity, they also define us, for we are obviously and seriously affected by our experiences. Brain scans reveal that those who have been traumatized, especially at a young age, actually show clear physical changed in the brain.

Though it’s pure fiction, there are cases in which we accept that a person’s identity has changed. Hollywood provides us with many examples of instantaneous change of identity due to mind transfer. In the 1976 film Freaky Friday, a mother and daughter miraculously have their memories switched (as well as their personalities). While the story may not be the most plausible, we clearly understand that the two characters are no longer themselves. 2001’s K-PAX tells the story of an alien being called Prot who inhabits the body of a human named Robert Porter. At the end of the film, the alien abandons its human form, leaving behind a catatonic Porter. Upon his departure, Prot’s former body is no longer recognizable by his friends, one of whom remarks, “That’s not Prot.”

These examples also illustrate how important memory is to our identity. Without the transference of memory, the characters would retain the knowledge of their past, including their own identity. And this is precisely why the existence of reincarnation is largely inconsequential. If we possess only the memories of ourselves, then it doesn’t matter if our life is the continuation of another. If a person experienced reincarnation or a mind transfer, but did not retain any memory, then they would be unable to identify as anyone but their current self and would therefore possess a unique identity. So don’t do good for the sake of your reincarnated self, for the being you will be will not be you.

And so we have our answer: it is our personality and memory that make us who we are. And although there is great uncertainty about how it actually works, these features are produced and stored in the brain, which somehow projects consciousness (also known as the mind). Our minds allow us to perceive, think and imagine, and while its existence is arguable metaphysical, the mind gives rise to identity. So identity is actually stored in and generated by the brain.

Now we can rest in the knowledge that our identity is safely locked inside a squishy mass hidden behind a quarter inch of bone. Unfortunately the brain remains a very mysterious and peculiar thing. In part II we will explore some of the curiosities and limits of this mighty organ that defines us.

We’ve all heard someone say that they don’t have an addictive personality. This arrogant statement is usually followed by a citation of all the most common addictions to which they are not enslaved. But their claim isn’t just pompous and irritating, it’s also inaccurate.

When someone claims that they don’t have an addictive personality, what they mean to say is that they aren’t susceptible to the most common forms of addiction. This statement is also false, since they would likely become addicted if they were forced to undertake the addictive behaviors to which they believe they are immune.

If we were to give such a person a hit of crystal meth, for example, the outcome would likely be equally grim for them as any other person. What they should be saying, if anything at all, is that they have no desire to engage in common addictive behaviors or that the limited behaviors they have engaged in have not yet produced an addiction (that they’re aware of).

Sometimes people will make claims about the addictive properties of a substance or behavior in order to further their argument against it. For example, those who believe that humans should not consume wheat gluten will point to the fact that it contains opioid peptides, which are from the same family as opium. Obviously something that is related to opium must be bad, right?

Well opioid peptides are actually produced naturally in the body and are found in other foods such as soybean and spinach. Apart from that, the fact that something is addictive doesn’t necessarily mean that it should be avoided. People suffer a wide variety of addictions, including addictions to exercise, reading, whistling and social media, but that isn’t reason enough to conclude no one should engage in these behaviors. We all know that addiction can be dangerous, but our understanding of this issue is often limited to a narrow group of common afflictions. Most of us would define addiction in a dictionary-like manner, and it would look something like this:

uh-dik-shuhn -noun

1. the state of having strong compulsion to repeatedly consume something or perform an action. Every night Danny goes to the bar and gets drunk; I think he might have an addiction.

Although this definition is certainly accurate in many cases, it’s far too vague to be used to determine whether or not someone has an addiction, much less what should be done about the thing to which they are addicted. In order to illustrate this, please indicate which of the following subjects are and are not addictive:

• Adrenaline
• Alcohol
• Approval
• Caffeine
• Carbohydrates
• Chatting Online
• Chocolate
• Cigarettes
• Cocaine
• Collecting Things
• Computers
• Driving
• Exercising
• Fame
• Fashion
• Fat
• Food
• Friendship
• Gambling
• Heroin
• Humming
• Lip Balm
• Love
• Marijuana
• Money
• Monosodium Glutamate (MSG)
• Music
• Pharmaceuticals
• Piercings
• Pleasure
• Pornography
• Procrastination
• Reading
• Relationships
• Relaxing
• Risk
• Salt
• Sex
• Sitting
• Shopping
• Sleeping
• Social Media
• Spirituality
• Stealing
• Studying
• Sugar
• Talking
• Tanning
• Tattoos
• Television
• Thinking
• Travel
• Vacations
• Video Games
• Vitamins
• Whistling
• Work
• Writing

Many of our definitions, opinions and interpretations are easily shattered by the introduction of subjects that lay on the fringe, and this is also true of our understanding of addiction. Everyone knows that cigarettes and gambling are addictive, but what about things that are less-obviously bad, like lip balm, music and talking? If an addiction is simply a powerful compulsion, then aren’t we all addicted to everything we crave? Perhaps a more thorough understanding of addiction is necessary. The American Society of Addictive Medicine uses a more comprehensive definition:

“Addiction is a primary, chronic disease of brain reward, motivation, memory and related circuitry. Dysfunction in these circuits leads to characteristic biological, psychological, social and spiritual manifestations. This is reflected in an individual pathologically pursuing reward and/or relief by substance use and other behaviors.

Addiction is characterized by inability to consistently abstain, impairment in behavioral control, craving, diminished recognition of significant problems with one’s behaviors and interpersonal relationships, and a dysfunctional emotional response. Like other chronic diseases, addiction often involves cycles of relapse and remission. Without treatment or engagement in recovery activities, addiction is progressive and can result in disability or premature death.”

But even this nuanced understanding fails to differentiate between an addiction and a simple urge or craving. Let’s analyze each key component of the definition.

“Addiction is a primary, chronic disease of brain reward, motivation, memory and related circuitry. Dysfunction in these circuits leads to characteristic biological, psychological, social and spiritual manifestations.”

This section merely describes addiction as a disease of the brain that manifests in a multitude of dimensions and doesn’t explain what it looks like.

“…an individual pathologically pursuing reward and/or relief…”

The term pathologically is used to imply that the subject is suffering from a mental disorder, but this must be established beforehand in order to determine whether or not the subject is addicted, so it doesn’t really help us here. Also, this description defines pretty much every behavior, since we are constantly eating to relieve hunger, entertaining ourselves to relieve boredom and so on.

“Addiction is characterized by inability to consistently abstain, impairment in behavioral control, craving, diminished recognition of significant problems with one’s behaviors and interpersonal relationships, and a dysfunctional emotional response. Like other chronic diseases, addiction often involves cycles of relapse and remission. Without treatment or engagement in recovery activities, addiction is progressive…”

Again, abstaining from most healthy behaviors will also produce these symptoms. In addition, sometimes people can regularly engage in what many would consider an addictive behavior and suffer no ill effects. There are also people we might consider addicted who may suddenly abandon the behavior and immediately experience permanent freedom from the craving. Finally, the requirement that addiction must continue to progress excludes those who can maintain a constant level of craving even if it completely disrupts their life, so this should not be necessary for the definition.

“Without treatment or engagement in recovery activities… [addiction] can result in disability or premature death.”

Now here’s where it gets interesting. Most definitions of mental disorders include a similar requirement that the condition negatively impacts the subject’s life in some way. Many mental disorders are merely extreme forms of a natural, healthy behavior. We all feel some anxiety and paranoia, we all feel depressed at times, we’re all traumatized by our past and we all have mood swings. For most of us, of course, these symptoms are within manageable levels, so they are not classified as a mental illness. However, addiction is different. Addiction is something that we all naturally feel toward certain things. Hunger, for example, is a very powerful craving that can lead to any and all of the symptoms listed above, and yet we all know that hunger is not an addiction.

So there appears to be a hidden ingredient in addiction that these definitions have failed to include, and it’s something that we all understand. We all know people who suffer from addictions – we know what addiction looks like – yet we can’t articulate it. We know that the man who drinks his paychecks away is addicted, we know that the woman who keeps taking painkillers long after her surgery is addicted and we know that the teenager who stays up till 3 A.M. every night playing World of Warcraft is addicted. We know this regardless of any consequences they suffer, the growth of their addiction and presence of a relapse. There’s just something fundamentally different between their cravings and something natural like hunger.

Here’s a new definition of addiction that attempts to grasp what makes addiction recognizable:

uh-dik-shuhn -noun

1. a powerful synthetic craving brought on by the introduction of unnecessary stimulus, or a natural craving magnified to an extreme degree.

This definition obviously doesn’t include the aforementioned requirement of a negative impact on the subject’s life. Although this is an important part of diagnosing a mental illness, this is not a medical definition; it is meant to help everyday people understand and recognize addiction.

Another issue that we’ve avoided until now is the question of which substances and behaviors are addictive. As we’ve already discussed, people can become addicted to a huge variety of substances and activities, but that doesn’t mean that these things are addictive, does it?

To answer this question, we could take a scientific approach and discuss substance dependencies, how habits are formed and chemical reactions in the brain, but we’ve already learned that such subjects are not relevant to our everyday experience. In other words, who cares whether or not we can prove that a substance or behavior has innate addictive traits?

One obvious answer to this question would be to inform people about which substances or behaviors to avoid, but we already know that people can become addicted to almost anything and that just because something is addictive doesn’t mean that it’s bad for us. In addition, the fact that something is both highly addictive and extremely bad for us doesn’t mean that society will reject it. After all, 87.6 percent of Americans consume alcohol, 15 percent of those people abuse it and around 90,000 Americans will die this year as a direct result of alcohol consumption. And yet we still promote drinking in films and television, advertise it in magazines and on billboards and sell it at grocery stores and at sporting events.

If you’re concerned about an addiction, don’t rely on the government or the Internet to help you make a decision. Listen to those who love you.

“If you would have seen what I’ve seen, then you’d understand.”

His gaze leaves the room as memory engulfs him. Hell is not a fantasy, but history. Visions of severed limbs and hollow faces wash over his fragile heart like lifeless bodies breaking against distant shores.

Our memories are as much a part of us as our DNA. Both define who we are, and just as we cannot edit our genetic code, we cannot rewrite our history. It’s impossible to escape that which we have endured, and so we shoulder burdens of fear, anger and remorse. We like to imagine that we choose who we are, what we think and how we feel, but the reality is that we are blessed, scarred creatures, refined and haunted by our past.

We dare not speak of war to the veteran or of love to the widow. We dare not grumble about bright lights to the blind or stagnant wages to the unemployed. We would never fret over a pimple in the presence of those who are disfigured, and we would not make light of a disability in the presence of someone who suffers its reality every day.

Those who have experienced intense, life-changing events or conditions often develop an increased sensitivity to such things, and when we’re in the presence of someone who has been through a traumatic experience, we also become sensitive to that experience.

This is why ads that depict starving, suffering children have little effect on healthy, first-world citizens. We certainly don’t doubt that those children are suffering or that they need help, but they are outside of our proximity. While televisions may transmit images and sounds effectively, they do not transmit experience, and they do not put us in the presence of those suffering children.

The problem is not that we have been desensitized to these things, since that would imply that we were once sensitive to them. Neither is the problem that we are insensitive, for we can certainly feel compassion, empathy and other emotions. The truth is that we aren’t sensitive to these issues because we have never been sensitized to them. Without living in poverty or experiencing starvation, we can’t help but underreact. We all know and agree that poverty and starvation are bad, but we know it in a theoretical, moral sense; we don’t know how it feels to be poor and starving.

The simple fact that something is true usually isn’t enough to invoke a reaction. This is why advertizers use music, drama, sex, controversy and comedy to provoke us. They’re trying to make us understand, make us imagine enjoying the ice-cool soda on a hot day or driving the elegant, powerful sports car down winding rural roads.

The impotence of mere truth is also why we find it much easier to hurt people we can’t see or don’t know. We’re much more likely to berate others on the Internet, steal from a faceless corporation, get angry at other drivers or even crush the dreams of unknown opponents in a competition. It’s not that we believe that these actions are any less wrong in such situations, but we don’t have to look someone we know in the eye when we commit them.

Although we might believe that an action is wrong, the severity and impact of that belief changes depending on our company. We never swear in front of our grandmother, we don’t say retard near those with mental disabilities and we wouldn’t complain about our big feet to someone with no legs. Our sensitivities are constantly fluctuating as we engage with different people. This basically means that each of us suffers from a form of dissociative identity disorder, since we are constantly changing from one person into another.

Some would argue that the problem is the increased sensitivity of those affected by traumatic experiences. They might say that it’s unfair and unreasonable to expect others to be sensitive when they only became sensitive through personal experience. This is a sensible conclusion, but it ignores a simple, yet important question: which level of sensitivity is correct?

Consider the story of a man who tragically lost his home and family in a fire. To him, having smoke detectors, a fire extinguisher and an emergency escape plan now seems extremely important. After dealing with his loss, he chooses to begin a crusade to educate others on fire safety. Because of his experience, the man’s concern is heavily weighted toward this issue. This doesn’t mean that his warnings are invalid or exaggerated, only that his ability to perceive the truth of the danger of fire was revealed by his proximity to such events. He is now subject to increased sensitivity and awareness of the issue. He no longer finds certain jokes or comments funny and reacts to imagery of fire and smoke differently than another person might. He is now subject to what are called trauma triggers – experiences that trigger a response from someone who has been traumatized.

Critics of this man’s position might point out his lack of concern for healthy living or earthquake safety. After all, while it’s true that fire safety is important, there are a multitude of threats endangering our families. These people would argue that the man’s perception has been tainted and that he now possesses an intense bias toward fire safety. In this civilized, scientific era, empirical knowledge is supreme, and those who allow bias, emotion and experience to influence their decisions are considered foolish, since we can easily show the inconsistencies in their positions.

Others would maintain that the man’s crusade for fire safety, though extreme, is an important contribution. They would agree that his reaction is emotional and possibly unreasonable, but they would never discourage or criticize him for focusing on only one issue. This is probably the most acceptable and popular position, but it ignores the profound possibility that this man’s vision is not distorted by his experience, but clarified. What if the man’s crusade to promote fire safety is merely a reasonable reaction from someone surrounded by people who don’t understand what he now sees so clearly? It may be that he is still blind to other dangers, but this only means that we are even more blind.

So what is the proper reaction from unsensitized folk, given what we’ve learned? Here are some options:

1. Ignore the issue and continue adapting to the sensitivities of others without feeling them ourselves.
2. Force ourselves into acts of charity regardless of our sensitivity to the issue.
3. Immerse ourselves in suffering to gain sensitivity.

The first solution is obviously wrong because it’s boring and has the word ignore in it. Aside from that, it evades the question of whether or not suffering enlightens or misguides us.

The second option is a good choice if you’re interested in resuming your normal life while appeasing any sense of guilt or obligation to others. It’s true that acts of love done without love still make a difference, but they ignore the systemic problem of a lack of concern for others, which will eventually lead to increased suffering.

The final choice seems frightening and overwhelming, but we may be able to sensitize ourselves without bringing suffering on ourselves. As we mentioned earlier, simply being near someone is enough to temporarily grant us sensitivity, so perhaps we can permanently sensitize ourselves by allowing them to share their lives with us. This is possible because there are more ways to experience something than personally living through it.


The image above shows that there are actually four levels of experience. Those in the first, outer-most level have absolutely no experience with the subject. They’re usually fearful, curious and skeptical of the new experience, since they haven’t even heard of it before.

The second level is the one that most of us would would identify with, and it’s one of the two we’ve been discussing. All of us have heard of cancer, poverty, AIDS and political persecution, but we’ve never experienced these things, and we aren’t close with anyone who has. We may have casual acquaintances or distant relatives who have lived through these experiences, but we don’t know them well enough to understand their situations.

Let’s skip ahead to the fourth and inner-most level, which is another one we’ve been talking about. Those in this level have personally experienced suffering and exhibit the increased sensitivity we’ve already discussed.

The third level of experience is the path to sensitivity we’re looking for. People with second-hand experience have shared a close relationship with someone in the first level. An example might be a person whose immediate family member suffered a serious illness. Some might argue that the line between first and second hand experience is blurry, and that’s precisely the point. By sharing in the suffering of others, we can permanently adopt their experience and sensitivity. We have done more than witness the suffering of another, we have endured it with them.

Now let’s return to the question of whether suffering enlightens or misguides us. First, by asking such a question, we’re making an assumption that there is a default perception. But just as there is no correct price of fuel, there is no correct way to perceive the world. Again, some would say that the correct understanding is one of unbiased empiricism, but a purely empirical worldview would remove love, honesty, morality and human value from the equation. Without these things, we cannot discern whether or not suffering is bad or human extinction is good. On top of that, empirical knowledge is merely something that some of us prefer, so someone who promotes empirical knowledge is actually revealing their biased toward empiricism.

To say that there is no correct way to perceive the world seems a bit extreme, but we’re not talking about moral relativism, religious pluralism or the rejection of scientific theory. We’re not here to debate the existence of reality; we’re talking about the lens of experience through which we view the world. To put it scientifically, we’re talking about the combination of chemicals and electrical impulses in the brain that make up our attitude, outlook, emotions, values and overall state of mind.

In contrast to the more extreme examples of suffering we’ve used, here are some minor influences that are constantly altering our perception:

• Confusion
• Pain or discomfort
• Lack of sleep
• Hunger or thirst
• Drugs and alcohol
• Caffeine
• Exercise
• Sexual arousal
• Joy
• Anger
• Boredom
• Solitude
• Social awkwardness
• Confidence
• Uncertainty
• Greed
• Guilt
• Obligation
• Competition
• Inspiration

As we can see, our outlook on life is changing every moment. Even drinking a glass of water or taking a few seconds to look out the window can make us feel better, and a simple compliment from a stranger can change what we think of ourselves. Likewise, staying up too late or encountering an irritating person can put us off, and receiving a bill in the mail can change our attitude toward finances.

A person may try to argue that our perception is correct when we are free from all of these influences, but not only is it extremely unlikely that we would be able to attain such a state, a position of perfect balance would also be the result of external influences. Even the air we breath makes us who we are, for variations in the oxygen content of our environment affects our physiology. Perhaps oxygen is actually a hallucinogen that causes us to imagine that our existence is meaningful. Whatever the case, our perception is obviously unstable.

In addition to the our normal fluctuation, intense experiences induce brief states of extreme emotion. Having valuable property stolen can affect us for life, but it also affects us in a more powerful, temporary way when it initially occurs. Learning that we have lost important, irreplaceable items will cause us to realize the insignificance of our other problems. But then learning that a family member has been diagnosed with a life-threatening disease makes us immediately forget our stolen property.

So not only is our perception vulnerable to minor temporary changes and powerful permanent changes, it’s also subject to even more powerful temporary changes brought on by the same experiences that affect us for life. And in these moments of extreme emotion, are really experiencing clarity? And if we are, how can we say that this is the correct perception, since it’s impossible to maintain such a view? Well, if there’s no correct way to perceive the world, and if our perception is constantly and sometimes drastically changing, it would seem impossible to determine whether traumatic experiences enlighten or misguide us. But just because we can’t be the best, it doesn’t mean we can’t be better. Perhaps instead of attempting to identify a perfect state of understanding, we should merely be seeking to learn what we can from those who suffer.

Since determining a complete and sound moral code is beyond the scope of our discussion, we can temporarily suspend philosophical inquiry and appeal to the general understanding that whatever results in the greatest good for the most people is right and that we should treat others the way we want to be treated. Now if no lens of perception is correct, then perhaps we should view the world in whatever manner results in the greatest good and increases our ability to treat other the way we would want to be treated. In other words, our perception should prioritize the greater good and cause us to feel empathy for others.

So how do we do this? A good strategy would be to look at the world through the eyes of as many people as possible. By sharing in their suffering through second-hand experience, we can align our priorities with theirs and become genuinely sensitive to their situation. In doing so, we generate empathy, which causes us to treat them, and others in similar situations, with the same sensitivity that we now share. And in addition to all this, we should never forget to be sensitive to the unsensitized, for they are merely seeds that have not yet sprouted.

Stop changing who you are based on who’s around you, and stop trying to do what’s right when you don’t care. Get sensitized.