We are each our own personal bookie, fortune-teller, and actuary, making thousands of decisions without much ceremony or fanfare. Do we speed up to make the yellow light or slow down? Do we slap on rain boots before running to class or throw on flip flops, like good San Diegans, through hell or high water? Seemingly automatic, we make these decisions based on what we expect to happen, based on our own or others’ past experiences. But these expectations we create for the future are not merely a means to an end; they do not simply exist to help us make decisions and then vanish in a swirl of dust. Expectations linger and affect our perceptions and emotions; they become self-fulfilling prophecies.
Or, they change our physiology.
Most people have heard about the placebo effect, but few seem to make the next leap: Thoughts change us biochemically.
The first time that the enormous power of thought came to the foreground of my attention was when I was presented with the following experiment in a cognitive science class: Researchers sounded a bell and immediately injected a dog with acetylcholine. As a response to acetylcholine, the dog’s blood pressure would lower. Experimenters did this until the dogs were trained and knew what to expect from the bell. Then, the experimenters switched substances, and after sounding the bell, injected the dogs with adrenaline — which normally causes high blood pressure. But the dogs were expecting acetylcholine, and their blood pressure lowered, even with an adrenaline injection! The pharmacological effect of adrenaline was annulled by the power of expectation alone. More recent experiments corroborate the biochemical nature of expectations.
I was floored. From the lack of excitement from my classmates, I surmised that everyone was either smarter than me and thought the power of thought was old hat, or they were hedging their bets that this was not going to be on the final — and thus was boring. To me, the skeptic, that was enough to establish that thoughts are powerful. Physically significant, even.
But that only set off a chain of related thoughts: Which is easier, changing our expectations or the world around us? What kinds of expectations do happy people have? How many conflicts are a result of mismatched expectations?
A lot, I would wager. When expectations don’t match, some people persuade each other into changing opinions, and some start crusades. Some end up dying of anorexia. To simply expect people to snap out of anorexia, alcoholism or depression is to trivialize the matter and underestimate the physical power of thought.
For a less morose, more local example, there seems to be a great discrepancy between student’s expectations of parking and administrators’. When I bought a $477 yearly “S” parking permit, I didn’t expect to be buying an expensive chance to park. When I rent an apartment, I expect it to come with a parking space reasonably near my door, but this isn’t always the case on campus. Because I attend a university in Southern California, the land of highways from whence drive-throughs sprung into existence and conquered the world, I expect to need a car.
If you look at the Master Plan for this university inside its glass case in Urey Hall, you’ll notice there are 12 colleges projected, but not much parking. The designers expected a thriving campus community where you could walk everywhere. The trouble is, what do I do when I’m stranded car-less and need a haircut, or need to deliver proofs to a printer in El Cajon? San Diego is not New York, nor Boston. It probably never will be. The population density just isn’t the same, and the cabbies aren’t swarming. The public transportation system here just isn’t comprehensive enough to transport people in a reasonable amount of time.
While the parking committees fight for rows of parking spots when unprofitable parking lots get paved over to make way for the new seventh college, it is worth asking, is the Master Plan out of step with UCSD’s Southern California location? Can we change it? If we can’t change our collective expectation of how this campus should grow, then what can we do to change the world around us — the public transportation system, the city density or the retail spaces available to students? Any kind of examination is welcomed; we cannot afford to ignore this discrepancy in expectations. Letting the campus expand without parking, or changing our environment, is simply an invitation for trouble.
The only thing worse than mismatched expectations is leaving them unresolved. Time goes on phlegmatically, mechanically, and our predictions of the future are either affirmed or frustrated. This can result in joy, satisfaction, disappointment, a riot, divorce, a traffic ticket or wet feet. It is worth giving some thought to the role that expectations play in our lives and conflicts. If your professor expects you to read much more than you think you can, or if your significant other expects you to act in a different way than you think you should, maybe you should explore what you can do to resolve the discrepancy in expectations. It won’t be easy, but there is some satisfaction in taking control of one’s life.
So, does your mother know you’re a bookie?
