On day 247 of our “two-week” lockdown, I thought about how the days were blending together,widening the gulf between the present and the nostalgically normal past. Right now, all most of us can do is wait. But how can time pass when it feels like the world is in limbo?
These days, I spend most of my time in my room and in my head. I don’t mind spending time alone—I like that it gives me time to think and to do exactly what I want. But this is quite a long time to spend alone, isn’t it?
In 1902, Charles Cooley proposed an interesting sociological theory: that we form our self-identity based off of how we think others see us. Though we can’t truly know how other people feel, we collect clues from our interactions to guess how we are perceived and piece together a sense of identity. Cooley called this the “looking-glass self” and said that this process occurs throughout our whole lives, facilitating the evolution of the self.
If Cooley is right, it means that a significant part of our self-identity is external: it grows out of socialization. By interacting with others, we are unknowingly shaping their sense of self, and they are similarly influencing ours. Cooley’s idea not only implies that we start off as somewhat of a blank slate, but also that much of our self-identity wouldn’t exist in a social vacuum. Since March, we have necessarily reduced our daily social interaction in an attempt to mitigate the spread of COVID-19. This raises the question: How does receiving less social feedback change our self-identity? Moreover, will COVID-19 leave a generational imprint on our personalities?
Fascinated by the counterfactual idea of who I would’ve been if the pandemic had never occurred, I decided to investigate its potential impact on personality. Not knowing much about social psychology, I had to start from the ground up. Personality can be defined as one’s unique pattern of thinking and reacting. Therefore, our personalities play an important role in determining our behaviours, choices, and motivations. The notion of the self—a person’s self-awareness and self-image—is one important aspect of personality. The process of personality development has fascinated thinkers for centuries; as such, psychologists like Freud, Erikson, Rogers, and Eysenck have contributed numerous social, behavioural, and biological theories of how personality emerges. Such theories have had a tremendous impact on society and serve as the basis for modern psychotherapies.
It’s generally agreed that both genetic and environmental factors shape our personalities, though psychologists disagree about their relative importance. In fact, the nature versus nurture debate remains an important question in many domains of psychology and biology. It can be traced back to the age of ancient philosophers—to nativism versus empiricism. Nativists believed that people’s characteristics were genetically inherited (nature), whereas empiricists argued that they were acquired through experience and environmental factors (nurture).
A modern nativist, Hans Eysenck, believed there to be a biological basis to personality: that interpersonal differences in extroversion derive from physiological differences in the reticular formation, the region of the brain that controls excitation. Introverts were deemed more easily aroused and therefore sought out less social stimulation, and vice versa. However, there is undoubtedly a strong influence of the environment on personality as well. One of the most famous empiricists was John Locke, who proposed that the mind is born a blank state (or tabula rasa) and it is only through experience that one acquires knowledge. Twin studies have suggested that genetics account for around 50 percent of personality, leaving the rest to be determined by environmental influences, or influences that arise from the interaction of these two factors.
The environmental component of personality includes socialization, which can shape early beliefs and behaviours through patterns of positive and negative social feedback—a form of operant conditioning. Influenced by the ideas of Cooley, sociologist George Herbert Mead proposed that self-identity develops solely through social experiences. Mead believed that identity formation involves imagining the situation from another’s perspective in a process he termed “taking the role of the other.”
Today, there is still no agreement on whether personality is static or fluid. In fact, some even argue that the idea of personality doesn’t exist, stating either that our behaviours are entirely dependent on the situation or that personality evolves at every moment, making it impossible to pinpoint. I disagree with these latter notions, for I believe that we can identify patterns in our behaviours which stem from our personalities, and that we can track the evolution of our self-identity. Over the past few months, I’ve felt as though I’ve been getting to know myself better, but I can’t resolve whether this is a process of discovery or creation. Why is it that we take interest in the things we do, and find fulfilment in our hobbies and careers? It seemed to me that these were the kinds of questions that would be difficult to test in a rigorous way and would be better answered by philosophy.
This topic reminded me of an essay I read a while back by Eli Alshanetsky, assistant professor of Philosophy at Temple University. Dr. Alshanetsky’s article is about articulation, but he devotes a significant portion to discussing the influence that experience has on us. He writes that experience is valuable because it provides us with implicit knowledge (in contrast to explicit knowledge, such as facts), which forges our beliefs and, in turn, our behaviours. Implicit knowledge (also called tacit knowledge) is that which is difficult to verbalize, write down, or transfer to another person. It includes motor skills such as riding a bike, but also more nuanced ideas such as body language, emotional intelligence, humor, and intuition.
Dr. Alshanetsky states that our recognition of words that match the message we intend to articulate occurs through implicit knowledge; that is, we find words “by relying on [the thought’s] ‘signature’—the distinctive way it imprints itself on our experience.” Similarly, he notes that implicit knowledge dictates emotional expression, another process that often feels outside of our conscious control. It’s not a stretch to imagine that implicit knowledge shapes all of our patterns of thinking and behaviour in a way that is beyond conscious recognition.
The idea that we are molded by our experiences is exciting because it provides a basis for change. Unlike genetics, experience is something that is partly under our control. Throughout our lives, we are guided towards ideas and people by both explicit and implicit knowledge. Their perceptions become our own, making our self-identity a selective accumulation of who is around us. The implicit knowledge we gain makes us feel passionate towards certain ideas, and in a positive feedback loop we seek out similar experiences and people. We can’t prevent others from influencing us, but we can choose the people we surround ourselves with, thus reclaiming a sense of agency in the process of our own identify formation.
So, what happens when there’s nobody around? Evolutionary biology tells us that humans are social creatures: we’re wired to cooperate and socialize to ensure our survival. Our inter-dependency has evolved to be extremely complex, as evidenced by language, culture, and the division of labour in society. This might explain why social isolation can feel so uncomfortable—it goes against our adaptive nature.
In one of the longest self-isolation experiments in history, Michel Siffre, a French scientist, spent six months alone in a cave. By the end, he could “barely string thoughts” together, and even tried to befriend a mouse. Similar experiments report effects such as confusion, changes in personality, anxiety, and depression. Furthermore, copious evidence has shown a correlation between social isolation and poor health. Even before COVID-19, social isolation was considered a public health concern that disproportionately affects some members of the population, including the elderly and chronically ill. Molecular mechanisms responsible for such health effects, like Tachykinin (Tac2)—a small protein produced by neurons that is thought to help coordinate long-term changes in behaviour resulting from social isolation—continue to be investigated.
Loneliness is also associated with chronic inflammation, as shown by increased blood levels of inflammatory molecules (such as interleukin-6) in socially-isolated individuals.Inflammation is a defense reaction mounted by the body in anticipation of a threat, but in this case the threat is evolutionary: the fact that we don’t have others around for protection. The inflammatory response was designed to operate for short bursts of time, but these days it persists as maladaptive chronic inflammation, causally implicated in the development of diseases like Alzheimer’s, atherosclerosis, cancer, depression, and diabetes. Considering one fifth of people from the US report feeling lonely, this resultant chronic inflammation might provide an explanation for why these diseases are the leading causes of death in the Western world.
Despite such reports of the harms of social isolation, it is during these solitary periods that scientists, writers, and artists have produced some of the most important works in human history. Isaac Newton devised his theory of gravitation and the basis of calculus in self-isolation during the Great Plague, and George Orwell wrote 1984 while self-isolating with tuberculosis. Charles Darwin, who suffered from bouts of illness throughout his life that left him secluded at Down House, once famously wrote, “Even ill-health, though it has annihilated several years of my life, has saved me from the distractions of society and amusement.” In the absence of socialization, the human condition is to seek alternate sources of stimulation, which allows creativity to flourish.
Philosopher Hannah Arendt claims that solitude is a crucial part of human freedom, for it enables the individual to develop their conscience. There has long been a philosophical distinction between loneliness and solitude. Arendt once said, “Solitude is that human situation in which I keep myself company. Loneliness comes about […] when I am one and without company but desire it and cannot find it.” This notion of objective vs subjective isolation also crops up in scientific research. Dr. Stephanie Cacioppo, an assistant professor of Psychiatry and Behavioural Neuroscience at the University of Chicago states, “Not everyone with limited social connections feels lonely, and some people with lots of social connections do. Loneliness is a discrepancy between what you want and what you have [in your relationships].” This emphasis on chosen vs forced isolation is now more relevant than ever. Much of the frustration with social distancing stems from the fact that it’s mandated, and the lack of choice makes us feel out of control.
So, have we changed? If self-identity is partly defined by our experiences, behaviours, and roles, then new habits, communication styles, and people we interact with (or don’t) likely create lasting changes. Professor Wiebke Bleidorn from the Personality Change Laboratory at the University of California, Davis agrees: “[Lockdown] may lead to new norms, which may over time also shape our personalities.” However, there is unlikely to be one universal effect of lockdown. Confirming my intuition about the “looking-glass self,” Dr. Thomas Arcaro, a professor of Sociology at Elon University, says that the lack of social interaction brought on by COVID-19 social distancing measures may have an effect on people’s sense of self.
But all this time we’ve spent alone during the COVID-19 pandemic has not necessarily had a negative impact on our personalities. Dr. Rodica Damian from the Personality Development and Success Laboratory at the University of Houston says, “this time of reflection might lead to increases in ‘self-concept clarity’—the degree to which people have coherent beliefs about themselves and their goals in life.” Furthermore, many of the adverse effects of social isolation have been mitigated by modern technology. Therefore, Dr. Damian says that we shouldn’t fret over how the changes we’re experiencing might be affecting us: “I don’t think people need to worry about changing their traits back to pre-lockdown,” she says. “I expect the change will happen gradually and naturally for most people, once the environmental pressures change. It will just take time.”
I decided to conduct my own informal investigation to see if I could generate any anecdotal evidence of personality change since March. I asked many of the people in my life if and how they felt that they had changed since social distancing measures were enacted. I received a wide variety of responses; many reported feeling more introverted and self-sufficient, or at least more introspective. Many also developed new hobbies, re-evaluated their priorities, and cut out social connections that didn’t feel genuine. Everyone noted spending more time writing emails.
Among my favourite responses was one from a friend who reported no longer feeling the need to be impressive to everyone: “The lack of some social structures makes you realize how pointless they are.” Another interesting response concerned our new means of communication—how, in many cases, we no longer have to form immediate reactions and can thus be more intentional in what we say. Written communication also gives us time to better interpret the messages we receive.
As for myself, I have changed for the better. Less socialization has out of necessity forced me to become less reliant on external modes of validation, including social media. I’ve had time to reflect on the things I’ve taken for granted, such as getting coffee with friends and studying at the library, while also being glad that I no longer have to do other things like commuting. I’m more thankful than ever for all the privileges and modern luxuries I have—internet access, a working computer, time—which allows me to continue my education during a pandemic.
However, I feel that the most important change I have experienced is greater compassion. A highly infectious viral disease differs from other diseases in that it necessarily involves everyone, regardless of their infection status. As such, humanity is struggling and we must do everything in our power to help one another by being more understanding, forgiving, and kind. As much as COVID-19 has forced us apart, hopefully has also brought us together and will make our newfound compassion one change that lasts.
Loved this article!!!