Do People Change?

A favorite topic among barroom philosophers begins with the question, “Does anyone ever really change?” Obviously, the question has ramifications: forgiveness vs. revenge, rehabilitation vs. incarceration, free will vs. fate.

The beautiful thing about propositions put forward at the outset of barroom debates is that all sides of the argument are always right. There is a sense in which no one ever changes, a sense in which everyone is changing all the time, and a sense in which people (most but not necessarily all) change stochastically according to some sort of internal biological clock.

My goal is to unravel these threads and, BTW, if I do so to your satisfaction, the next round’s on you, ok?

No one ever changes: You are aware of the World, and you are aware of yourself being aware of the World. As a result, you experience the World stereoscopically, and the differance (Derrida) is consciousness. You are that consciousness.

No matter how violently and relentlessly the world (including your body) changes around you, you do not change. You observe and qua observer, you are exactly the same today as you were at birth (or before) and as you will be at death (or after).

You are Menelaus (Odyssey), unwavering and unchanging, holding on tight to the shape shifting Proteus. You are Stephen Dedalus (Ulysses) on Sandymount Strand, rationalizing the shifting forms assumed by primal matter, Aristotle’s pure potentia. Like the center point of a rotating sphere, you are at rest while everything literally spins around you.

The World consists of qualia and it is in a state of constant flux. This is Parmenides’ Doxa (appearances), the realm of change. Here is where color, form, and affect reside. This is the World, Sartre’s en soi, but this is not you.

Relative to en soi you are neant (nothingness, negation); you are pour soi. You are an avatar of Parmenides’ Aletheia(truth), the realm of permanence: “…what-is is ungenerated and imperishable…whole, single-limbed, steadfast, and complete; nor was it once, nor will it be, since it is, now, all together, one, continuous…Thus coming-to-be is extinguished and perishing not to be heard of.”

Being in the realm of Aletheia, you are simple, you have no parts, you have no qualities, and, of course, you undergo no change.

Everyone changes continuously: You template the World, you reflect the World, and the World is constantly in a state of flux (Doxa, above). Therefore, you must constantly change to adapt to the ceaseless change around you. In homage to the great Johnnie Cochrane, “If it is not new, it is not you!”

This change is neither arbitrary nor voluntary; it is homeostatic, it is necessary for survival. You seek stability and so you must continually adjust to changes around you. You must change if you are to remain the same.

Most people change stochastically: This is where our model represents an advance over Parmenides and Sartre and pretty much anyone in between. To understand this third option, we need to visit our cousin, the butterfly.

A butterfly begins life as a caterpillar. Once the caterpillar has grown sufficiently, it forms a protective casing around itself called a chrysalis where the caterpillar's body proceeds to dissolve into a biological soup. The interior of the chrysalis becomes a cellular slurry, the raw material for an entirely fresh organism with new structures such as wings, antennae, compound eyes, etc.

Imagine a piece of unassembled DIY furniture from IKEA (it’s easy if you try) with two schematics directing its assembly – two, because the pieces in this kit can be assembled in 2 totally different ways resulting in two entirely different pieces of furniture. It’s the ultimate application of Transformers technology.

At an appropriate time, our personalities dissolve into a soup, just like a caterpillar’s DNA, and then reassemble according to an entirely different schematic, just like a butterfly. Like butterflies, you retain pre-metamorphic memories but otherwise, you are an entirely new entity.

Most people experience metamorphosis 3 times in life, once at the onset of puberty (11 – 13), again upon the full realization of adulthood (21 – 30), and one last time at the beginning of ‘seniority’ (55 – 80).

Parents often reflect that living with their teenaged offspring is like living with strangers in their house; been there…on both sides of that see-saw! The adults think they are speaking metaphorically but in fact, their observation is true, literally.

On the other hand, many retirees succeed in so reinventing themselves that they wonder how they ever found the time, energy, or frankly the ‘stomach’ to work for 40+ years. It is said that there are no second acts in America; on the contrary, every life has a second act, or at least the opportunity for one, as well as a prologue.

Our lives seem to follow Homer’s trajectory (Odyssey). Our ‘minority’ follows the structure of the Telemachia and serves as the Prologue in our life’s drama. At first, Telemachus is powerless against his mother’s suitors; later, with the help of a mentor, he begins to resist and develops a strategy to overthrow the interlopers. At the end (Act II), Odysseus is reunited with his home, Ithaca, but on entirely new terms.

This is not so surprising! Both Homer (Odyssey) and Joyce (Ulysses) intended to tell ‘the story of everyone’ through their respective epics. And they did! We are all Dedalus, we are all Bloom, we are all Telemachus, we are all Odysseus. Our lives unfold in three acts: a Prologue, then Act I Proper (our adult life), followed by a usually much shorter Act II (our seniority).

So no matter what side you took in this barroom brawl, you have the satisfaction of knowing you were right…and I have the satisfaction of a quaffing a cold one on you. Slainte!