In the last million years, give or take, our chances of being caught and eaten by a passing animal have declined significantly. Yet, the “fight, flight or freeze” response, a prerequisite for the survival of our species, has hardly adapted at all. With the occasional inter-tribal or alcohol-fuelled exception “fight or flight” is thankfully rare but an involuntary “freeze” can happen to anyone. It’s invariably inconvenient and usually about as welcome as unsolicited cold calls at mealtimes.
The limbic response tends to be triggered when we are caught off-guard by an unexpected comment or action. Often, we will think of a suitable retort within half an hour but by then, it’s of no use whatsoever. Evolution is a wondrous thing but it has conspicuously failed to deal with this anachronism. Here’s a random example from my murky past.
In the mid-1970s, after a year in my first job as an avionics engineer, I was seconded to Munich, supporting the Tornado flight trials programme. Occasionally, the project manager would visit for a progress review meeting. On one occasion, the German host company invited those taking part to an evening reception. As this was more or less on my way home, I offered to give him a lift, together with his counterpart from British Aerospace, a fellow Lancastrian of similar vintage. As we pulled up outside the venue, the BAe man leaned across and jabbed my shoulder, saying: “Shame you can’t join us, but RHIP!”
I replied, “No problem, but what’s RHIP?” He exchanged a knowing glance with the project manager before uttering, in a condescending tone reserved for those too young to have done compulsory military service, “Rank has its privileges, lad.” A stony silence ensued. Someone needed to say something but banter – witty or otherwise - was significant by its absence.
The two colleagues headed off to sample some Munich beer, which has an entirely justified reputation for being deceptively intoxicating, particularly the Oktoberfest varieties. Both seemed oblivious as to what lay in store when returning to their hotel. Neither of them spoke German, let alone the Bavarian dialect, which sounds more like Gaelic for those of us who speak English.
Late at night, the only option was to use the public transport system as cab drivers tended to disappear before the inebriated tourists could ruin their leather seats. Half way home, it dawned on me. I could have said, “A taxi rank has its privileges too! If you’re not there by 10pm, good luck with the trams.” That may have raised a smile but prior to this blog, it hadn’t seen the light of day for almost 40 years. The question is: how did the memory of this minor incident survive?
The limbic system has to take full responsibility. Within milliseconds of one or more of our senses perceiving a threat, chemical messages start the production of adrenalin. This totally overwhelms the “thinking” brain (the pre-frontal cortex) which handles reasoning, problem-solving and logic to the extent that it effectively shuts down until the “threat” subsides.
Since evolution has manifestly failed to provide a timely fix, intervention is needed. Fortunately, advances in neurology have been rapid, particularly in the last ten years. Prior to the discovery of neuroplasticity, scientists thought that our brains were pretty much hard-wired by the age of three. We’re now told that millions of new neural pathways are created every day, without us even realising. That means that the six inches between our ears is re-programmable.
We also know that new programmes can be created by either real or virtual experiences. Indeed, the brain is incapable of distinguishing between them, which partly explains the rapid increase in the use of simulations.
What if we could re-programme our limbic response system to help us:
• remain cool under pressure?
• lower our blood pressure?
• avoid disputes?
• turn conflicts into learning opportunities?
The starting point is being able to distinguish between primary and secondary emotions. Primary emotions – like sadness, fear and hurt - are self-triggered. Secondary emotions – like irritation, frustration, anger or powerlessness - are triggered by others, specifically their motivations or intentions. That in turn is what triggers our limbic response.
To re-programme, we first identify the emotion at the point where the unwanted behaviour appears and work backwards to the original cause. In the incident from my murky past, the “freezing” was triggered by irritation when my generous offer of a lift was rewarded with an unwarranted prod in the shoulder. Re-programming involves three phases:
- Recognising when a limbic response can be triggered by a judgemental question, comment or action by a third party.
- Acknowledging “at risk” situations and actively disengaging before a secondary emotion has had a chance to kick in.
- Replacing that secondary emotion with an appropriate primary emotion - and empathising with the perpetrator.
Gamification is recognised as a vital resource in the field of accelerated learning.
Limbic Games comprise four key elements: awareness, intention, action and practice.
The more we play, the more easily we can over-ride an obsolete self-preservation mechanism which no longer serves our best interests. There are countless opportunities to engage using minor incidents in daily life, anything from an inattentive shop assistant to a dysfunctional automated call handling system.
Accelerated learning is already working well. Could accelerated evolution be the next big step forward