MIND READERS DICTIONARY : Mind Readers Dictionary mindreadersdictionary@gmail.com

What is with him? How can he believe such garbage? It's so bad it's not even wrong. It's worse than wrong!

Sometimes I think he's just clueless. He simply can't see the truth.

But then other times I get this whiff of the devious and think he can see the truth just fine but refuses to. For selfish reasons. To get what he wants, he's pretending he can't see. It's all a con. He's manipulating me.

But then I feel bad for assuming the worst. Maybe he’s neither clueless nor lying. He’s just loyal elsewhere. To keep the people in his world happy he’s forced to believe that stuff.

You know how it is. To keep your job, to maintain harmony with your spouse you have to believe certain things. It’s not even a conscious decision. You just fall into falsehoods to keep the peace.  It’s not enough to claim to believe those things, because the people you’re around a lot, they’ll see it on your face. To be consistently and reliably diplomatic and tactful with the folks around him, he believes what he has to. You only believe what you can afford to believe.

And sure, maybe the same is true for me. Maybe my social pressures distort my reality too.  For all I know, he’s more realistic than I am.  Who am I to say what’s true.

Except for one little fact, which is that what he believes is total bullshit, and like I say, sometimes I think he’s just screwing with me. With a con artist, being empathetic is pathetic.  I should defend the truth against his lies, fight him, get right up in his face.

Though of course, not if he’s just clueless.  I mean what are you going to do?  Chew some guy out for not knowing better when it’s simply beyond him to understand?  That’s tacky.

Clueless, Lying, Loyal?

Most psychological dilemmas are, at core a choice between three mutually exclusive options.  Something feels wrong, and you’ve got three ways to interpret what it is.  Your three interpretations each point to a different response and the responses are at odds with each other.

Take a partner’s persistently and distractingly annoying habit of picking his teeth. You have three options:

1. Accommodating it requires that you learn to ignore the problem. You maintain your commitment to the partnership by getting over your annoyance.

2. Fighting it requires that you stay vigilant, paying attention to the annoyance and letting your partner know it bugs you. You maintain your commitment to the partnership by making it meet your standards.

3. Leaving it requires not working to sustain the partnership.  You don’t have to change; your partner doesn’t have to change. You just go your separate ways.

These three response options go by different names in different contexts:

Fight, flight and fear: In response to a predator, an organism fights for dominance, escapes interaction, or displaying fear demonstrates accommodation.


Exit, voice and loyalty: In politics, a frustrated citizen can leave the country, voice his opposition or, out of loyalty accommodate the frustration.

Win, lose or draw in games; Innocent, guilty and nolo contendere in law; dominance, subordination and disengagement in game theory--we choose one or another of these forks depending on how we interpret the source of the problem.

We also have names for the three core interpretations. For example, when there’s a problem between you and me, I can interpret the problem’s origin as in you, in me or in us. If I decide that the problem originates in you, I’ll fight you. If I decide I’m the problem I’ll accommodate you. If I decide the problem originates in us, and our bad chemistry, I’ll suggest that we go our separate ways. Call it the “Youmeus Point,” the point when a problem arises and you wonder “Is it you, is it me or is it us?”

And actually there are two Youmeus points, two interpretation q

That's the fourth time she's done it and this time you're not going to let it pass. Carefully, diplomatically you tell her that she has got to stop insulting you in front of your friends. It's getting weird. If she has complaints and criticisms, you want her to talk with you about them frankly and privately, rather than attacking you indirectly and publicly.

She listens and then pleasantly, earnestly, as if trying to reassure you, says, “It is not my intent to insult and attack you.  I would never want to do that.”

There. Satisfied?

I didn’t think so.  Or try these:

Your child has a C- minus average, but when you confront him, he most earnestly whines, “But I really want to get good grades!”

Your husband won’t share the housework but when you ask him to help more he says, “I mean to help.  I would never want you to feel our relationship was unfair.”

It’s as if to say, “My intentions are good.  Don’t they count for everything?”  It’s as if to say “I’m a good listener, I’m being agreeable, and I’m on the same page with you. So shut-up because you’re wrong about me. You’re intuitions are unfounded.”

And it’s a natural response we’re all capable of giving, indeed, given how minds work, a response we’re naturally inclined toward giving.

We humans are the world’s first fully bi-mundial species. We live in two worlds, the real and the imagined.  The real is what confronts us physically through our senses--both physical feedback (the brick wall you bump into), and feedback from other people (the C-).

Imagination is a new-fangled ability made possible by our capacity for language, our ability to construct mental word-pictures. Imagination makes us humans preternaturally ambitious, visionary, innovative, entrepreneurial, proactive, delusional, woo-woo, clueless, dangerous, and out of touch. It’s what made Steve Jobs so visionary, and that pompous jerk you know such a total pain in the butt.

Our bi-mundiality is a big, risky evolutionary experiment, and its outcome is very much up in the air.  It’s the source of both what could ruin us (climate chaos, economic folly) and save us (new energy technologies, better economic modeling).

When we bi-mundials are confronted by discouraging real-world evidence, our first inclination is to retreat into our imaginations.  When someone says, “You’re doing harm,” it’s as if we close our eyes to get a second opinion from ourselves about ourselves.

And the likeliest second opinion amounts to:

“Yeah, sorry, I just checked with myself.  I asked myself point blank whether I want to do harm, and nope, you’re wrong.  I aspire to be a good person. My intentions are positive. I looked right at myself and that’s not me. I even checked with myself twice. And I agree with me.”

We naturally or deliberately overlook the complex tensions between our often-conflicting desires.  Your partner genuinely wants to have been nice to you, but that doesn’t always trump her desire to one-up you. You child wants to have gotten good grades, but that doesn’t always trump his desire to watch a lot of TV.  Your husband wants to have helped, but that doesn’t always trump his desire to hang out on the Internet.

One common manifestation of our bi-mundiality is what I call “speaking in the aspirational tense.” We say what we hope will become true as though it’s already true.

For example, an hour ago I threw out my pack of cigarettes, and now I proudly declare, “I quit smoking!” I really mean that I aspire to quit smoking but I say it as though I’m stating established fact.   I say, “I hate cigarettes” as though that’s my only feeling about them. I ignore my other feelings about them, hoping they’ll go away.

The aspirational tense plays out as wishes touted as realities. It’s als

"The secret to a stable relationship like ours," she said proudly," is give and take, a real 50/50 balance."

I should look at her while she's talking to me, but I'm sneaking peeks at him, checking for a reaction. I know the couple well and you would have to cook the books pretty creatively to call their relationship 50/50. My guess is closer to 90/10. In our circles she's notorious for her demands and expectations. She takes up a lot of space which he supplies with nary a flinch.

How does that work?

My guess is that it's a 50/50 balance around a 90/10 set point. In other words, they're still negotiating a little give and take, but it's between say, 87/13, and 93/7.

He doesn't flinch because he's not wondering about the set point. He's not wondering because the variation around the set point feels easy and balanced, sloshing gently and reliably around even a set point as skewed as theirs'.

How are set points negotiated? Let's start by noticing the continuum between business and friend relationships. In business we audit who owes what. In friendship we try not to audit. Love is ideally way over on the friendship side of the continuum, so far over into ignoring who owes what that it's unsafe to love just anyone. You better pick your lover carefully or you'll end up failing to audit a joint account you share with an embezzler.

To get to where we can ignore who owes what therefore takes a paradoxical blend of auditing and not auditing, carefully keeping track of who owes what so you can get to where you can afford to ignore who owes what. We'll call this the Auditor's Paradox: It takes auditing to stop auditing. To get safely to a set point where you can say, "who's counting?" you have to count who owes what.

Keeping track of who owes what has a lot in common with double-entry bookkeeping. Each partner holds and maintains an intuited ledger; a ledger that registers what each gets and gives with each other. When negotiating set points, partners audit, discussing discrepancies as they arise. For example, when a partner says, "You don't appreciate what I did for you last week," it's the equivalent to "What I did for you last week is recorded in my ledger as accounts receivable, but you don't seem to have it recorded in your ledger as accounts payable."

We mark and audit our transactions using the conventional terms of etiquette. For example terms like "please" "thank you," and "sorry" all mean, "I'm registering this transaction as establishing a debt to you, something I will add to my accounts payable, and you can add to your accounts receivable." These terms say, "I hereby acknowledge that I am receiving something from you." They're like receipts.

How about invoices? When you say, "Well...OK, here you go," as you grant a favor, it can be like invoicing, like saying "In giving this favor, I'm recording in my accounts receivable a debt you now owe me."

But what if instead you say, "not a problem," "no worries" or "don't mention it" as you grant a favor? Those don't sound like invoices. Taken literally they mean something more like "I'm not keeping track of the favor I just granted. You need not register it in your accounts payable, because I'm not registering it in my accounts receivable."

What's up with that?

Auditing is toxic buzz-kill to friendship and especially to love. Imagine billing your friends for the Thanksgiving dinner you provide them, or giving your partner an itemized list of the expenses you've incurred in your relationship.

But given the Auditor's Paradox, auditing is also necessary. We shouldn't pair with someone who systematically cooks the books in his or her favor, so we have to audit some. But we also shouldn't stay with someone who is constantly auditing, so we try to offset auditing's buzz-kill by bestowing romantically lavish acts of kindness, acts that seem t

Maybe they just didn't hear you. Or maybe they heard you just fine and have decided that you're an idiot, not even worth responding to.

Maybe they got your message but are simply too busy to respond. Maybe they're just quietly thinking it over and still haven't decided. Maybe they're so apologetic that they don't know what to say.  Maybe they're just having fun leaving you dangling.

Whatever it is, it has been longer than you expected.  The silence is deafening. What does it mean?

Maybe you should resend your message. After all, if they didn’t hear you, they’ll be glad you resent it. But if they’re just busy or quietly thinking it over, then your pestering them could turn them against you. And if they think you’re an idiot, maybe it’s better to let sleeping dogs lie.

Or maybe, if they’ve decided you’re an idiot you should defend yourself. If they’re going to be that disrespectful, let them know what you really think.

But again, what if they never got the message in the first place, or they’re busy or just thinking it over, or are just feeling bad.  If that’s the situation, then giving them a piece of your mind will prove that you’re an idiot. Lincoln said, “Better to remain silent and be thought a fool than to speak out and remove all doubt.” That probably applies to responding to silence too.

Better to just wait.  They’re probably just busy, right?  Be patient… Wait… Maybe forever. Wait for people who probably think you’re such an idiot that they don’t need to respond.

Or just ask them, maybe.  Ask them what’s up. They won’t mind.  Unless they think you’re a pest.  A needy pest over-anxious and supplicating: “Did you get my message?  What did you think?  I desperately need to know what you think.”

This is infuriating. Even if they are busy, it’s clear they don’t respect you.

What’s worse, their silence is like a shell game.  Whatever you do, you’ll reveal what you think their silence means and then—switcheroo--they can just change their explanation. You can say “You’re not speaking to me because you think I’m an idiot, right?” and even if that’s exactly why, they can always say, “My aren’t you paranoid. Actually, we’ve just been really busy.” Or you can say “You’ve been too busy to respond, right?” and even if that’s their story they can switch it, saying “My aren’t you paranoid.  Actually we were thinking about it.”

Their shell game is as bad as “I’m thinking of a number between one and ten.” Whatever you guess, they can claim they were thinking of a different number.

What’s worse still, no matter how crazy their silence drives you, they’re unassailable.  They can always say “What? We didn’t do or say anything!” Silence pleads innocence whether it’s innocent or not.

Bob Monkhouse says “Silence is not only golden; it is seldom misquoted.” That’s cute but it’s absolutely wrong. There’s probably no communication more misquoted than silence. It’s very hard to know what it says.

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Silence is a window into a fundamental misunderstanding in semiotics, the study of signs. In general and even in academic research, we assume that a sign is a thing. We say, “A green light means go,” as though the meaning was in the light itself.

But if signs are things, are all things signs? How do we know which things are signs and which things aren’t?  And what about silence?  It’s not a thing. How can the absence of a thing be a sign? And yet it is. The absence of a tax form on April 15 is a sign to the IRS.  The absence of the supper you were expecting can be a very big sign served up to you by your soon-to-be ex-partner.

We live in an era that people will look back upon as misguidedly thingish.  We’re sailing on the successes of a 350-year campaign to exp

After I left the world's largest hippie commune but before I cut off my long hair, it occurred to me that the two central tenets of our hippie beliefs were on a collision course with each other. We were talking out both sides of our mouths, saying opposite, irreconcilable things. On the one hand we were saying, "We are all one on this spaceship earth and must act together to save it." On the other we were saying “If it feels good do it.”

For the most part, we we’re oblivious to the clash. Like the cat fancier who collects all the adorable strays without noticing the catfights escalating, most people collect any and all ideas that move them without noticing where they are at odds with each other.

When the Youngblood’s sang “Come on people now, everybody get together,” we’d say “Yeah, right on.” When the Isley’s sang, “It’s your thang, do what you wanna do…” we’d say, “Yeah, right on.”

To the extent we did think about how to weave together our collective and individualistic principles, to patronizingly and paradoxically teach the world to sing in perfect harmony a song of freedom, we had two basic theories:

1. Doing what’s good for the collective is really everybody’s thang: Take meat for instance. Spaceship earth couldn’t really handle all of us wanting to eat a lot of meat. It’s not in the collective interest for you to want meat, but the good news is that in your heart of potentially clogged hearts you don’t really want to eat meat anyway. Sure you might think you want a Big Mac, but you don’t really. No, you really lust for tofu.

2. That doing our various individual things would create a harmonious melting pot collective future: You could get this impression from our festivals (still can, for example this week at Burning Man). At Woodstock, for instance where the Republican farmer who leased the land marveled before the crowd that “a half million young people can get together and have three days of fun and music and have nothing but fun and music, and I God Bless You for it!”

The secret was three days. Yes, for a brief time the melting pot is harmonious, but having lived on the commune where we attempted to extend indefinitely our union in liberty it became more difficult.

Lately I’ve been reading Republican scholars explain the conservative tradition. Its legs, they all agree are three:

1. Commitment to traditional values,

2. Commitment to individual liberty, and

3. Opposition to communism.

Growing up I mostly associated Republicanism with anti-communism. With the Soviet’s demise and China’s embrace of capitalism, we heard less about communism for a time. These days, the anti-communist leg of Conservatism’s tripod has re-extended itself as fierce opposition to socialism. The conservatives I know use the USSR as the exemplar of socialism's failure but modern socialism is actually a mixed economy, a style with more mixed success than the USSR, which professed communism, but was actually a totalitarian dictatorship (which historically come in lots of flavors--capitalist, Islamic, communist, Christian).

The other two legs of the conservative tripod—liberty and traditional values are wobbling in relation to each other these days as conservatives advocate a libertarian theocracy, a government that gets out of our way but also bans gay marriage.

According to New York Times/CBS New surveys, in 14 months the number of Americans who have an unfavorable opinion of the Tea Party has risen from 18 to 40 percent. Today, the Tea Party ranks lower than any of the 23 other groups they asked about — lower than both Republicans and Democrats, and is even less popular than much maligned groups like “atheists” and “Muslims.” Interestingly, one group that approaches it in unpopularity is the Christian Right.

Commenting on the

Do you watch movies and TV, read fiction, follow politics or like good gossip? If you do, then chances are you're a lifelong student of Villainology, the study of what makes bad guys bad and mean people suck. Criminology is something else, the study of people who break laws. A lot of the world's worst villains climb to positions of power without breaking the law.

We start our children into Villainology young with easy detection tests, bad guys who look mean in their black hats and warty furrowed brows. With as much time as we story-lovers spend in the company of bad guys, it's a fair bet we're all looking for clues to detecting villains before they do us harm, budding tyrants in the home, at work or in society at large.

So really, how can we tell who's a budding tyrant?

It matters since we have to nip them in the bud before their tyranny takes hold. These days there are lots of people in politics crying "Tyranny!" Who should you believe? Some say beware the Socialists, Christian Fundamentalists, Communists, Conservatives, Muslims or Libertarians, but you can't tell budding tyrants by their affiliations. Historically, tyranny has made itself at home in every political, religious, and philosophical movement.

At its heart tyranny is a lack of conscience, and here we can distinguish three forms. First, there are psychopaths who have an organic absence of conscience. They test as having no affect for example when seeing images of gruesome cruelty that would make anyone else's heart jump.

Second, there's sociopathy, an extraordinary absence of conscience in one context because conscience is committed elsewhere. The family celebrating the death of their suicide bomber son and his hundreds of victims may seem, like psychopaths to show a complete lack of conscience, but they would insist that they don't care about the lives lost because they are so conscientious about serving other communities and God. Unlike psychopathy, sociopathy is not a permanent condition but a behavior, one that can only be ascribed relative to some social norm. For example our side's soldier is trained to show no conscience toward the enemy combatants he kills. To us, he's not a sociopath; he's a hero. The enemy's soldiers are sociopaths because, by our social norms his supposed higher purposes do not justify his lack of conscience toward us.

And then there's the third form, normal, everyday conscience allocation. Conscience, if it's more than lip service is expensive. To show conscientious consideration to others means exerting yourself on their behalf. You have finite powers of exertion, and therefore have to subordinate and prioritize whether consciously or unconsciously, where you expend conscientious care.

This is why "Do onto others what you would have them do onto you," while a lovely sentiment, is impossible to put into full practice. You can't help disappoint others, doing to them what you wouldn't have done onto you.

And visa versa. Bosses let us go, partners dump us, friends turn us down, children fail to fulfill our hopes. Sometimes it really hurts. Why would they do such a thing? Most of the time, bless their souls, because they are being conscientious elsewhere, allocating their finite and expensive conscientiousness as they see fit, disappointing though it may be to us.

"Ah," you might counter, "But that's just disappointment. That's not the same thing as cruelty, which is what the Golden Rule is really talking about," to which I'd say "Exactly. Thank you for taking this where we need to go."

To tell who's a budding tyrant in politics but also at home and at work, we need to be able to tell who's a psychopath, who's acting sociopathically and who's just doing normal, everyday conscience allocation.

Psychopaths know how to frame their exclusively self-serving agendas as serving some higher cause. When they're going