The Search for Self-Descriptions

Evolutionary roots for seeking out self-knowledge

A fascinating aspect of human psychology is people's unwavering interest in finding out things about themselves. People are invariably curious to know how others perceive them. This need to know how one compares to others seems to be the basis for man's "quest for self-knowledge," rather than some more abstract need to "know oneself." The need to know "who you are" implies a social context — who you are compared to other people. The need for self-knowledge falls to near zero if you are living alone in the jungle.

A non-verbalized form of self-knowledge can be observed in other social animals besides humans. Animals take note of others' reactions to them in order to better understand their role in the community and accurately calculate the risks involved with different kinds of behavior. The sum of other animals' reactions to them is a sort of composite self-description that guides the animal in its social behavior and decision making.

With the onset of language the essence of self-knowledge has changed little. Most self-knowledge is still obtained non-verbally by registering other people's reactions to us. In addition to people's immediate reactions, however, we now have the chance to talk about our perceptions of one another using words. Words provide condensed descriptions (e.g. "he's a shy person," "she's got an axe to grind," etc.) of complex behavioral traits.

If the purpose of registering others' reactions to us is to better calculate risks and opportunities, what is the point of collecting verbal descriptions of ourselves? What is the draw of knowing one's "personality type" according to any of a million different systems? What is the point of knowing that you are more extraverted than 75% of the population, or rank low on the conscientiousness scale? There must be an explanation for such a consistent, universal interest in such things. This knowledge has to be good for something.

An important aspect of self-descriptions is that they usually come along with a positive or negative emotional charge. Even when they do not, people want to attach one. For example, when you tell somewhat that they belong to a certain "personality type," they often ask, "is that good?" They want to know whether the fact that a certain description applies to them increases or decreases their chances of success in life (as they define "success"). If you told Napoleon Bonaparte that he had the same "personality type" as Alexander the Great, that would give him an ever-so-slight self-esteem boost. If you assign someone a negative trait, that ever-so-slightly diminishes their personal expectations of success in life, or in a specific area of life.

It is fascinating that so much seems to be centered on people's expectations of success. It appears that people engage in a sort of subconscious biological speculation, constantly trying to estimate the chances of one's "team" — oneself — in different areas of activity. Others' descriptions of us — along with plus or minus signs — serve as road markers pointing the way to success. The more positive the descriptions, the greater the chances that we are better than others (in the specific area) and, hence, the greater our chances of success. "Success" itself is defined not in absolute terms, but in comparison to others. This is, in my opinion, a direct reflection of the gene competition taking place underneath the surface of social relations.