Why are melancholics tired all the time?

Melancholics are tired pretty much all the time.

Why is this?

Well, firstly we need to remember that melancholics are unexcitable, but with long-lasting impressions.

Being unexcitable translates directly into having “low energy” for most things in life. When something doesn’t excite you, it’s hard to be motivated or enthusiastic or any of the other mental states we associate with not being tired.

Having long-lasting impressions means we’re often preoccupied. We can’t just “go with the flow” because we have our own pre-existing velocity. These long-lasting impressions also take energy. It means instead of waking up in the morning and saying “what a wonderful new day! I wonder what today has in store?” you wake up with a sense of direct continuity from the day before….and the day before that.

You don’t get to forget, and so you don’t get to feel refreshed.

So that’s two causes of tiredness in a melancholic. By contrast, a choleric shares our long-lasting impressions, but is easily excited. That means the choleric gets a lot of energy from life.

On the other side, phlegmatics are as unexcitable as we are, but they don’t form long-lasting impressions. They get to forget. Each day can be a new day where they rediscover all the same unexciting things they rediscovered yesterday, fresh and new.

That’s why melancholics are predisposed to tiredness and fatigue. But in addition to the direct effects of temperament, the melancholic is also liable to develop character traits that contribute to tiredness and fatigue.

For example, a melancholic is more likely to respond to a hostile environment by suppressing their responses. Growing up, a melancholic is more likely to err on the side of caution, holding back and second-guessing their instincts in order to adapt to their circumstances.

The result is that the melancholic is at risk of developing a facade or fake-self, a mode of interpersonal interaction that restricts and denies their natural impulses. Melancholic caution and slowness lead to habitual self-doubt and a self-centred approach to conflict resolution. The melancholiic looks first to how he can change himself to resolve the conflicts in his world.

I think the melancholic, more so than the other temperaments, risks denying his own spontaneous impulses and excitability even further. The melancholic risks arriving at rules of behaviour that may be effective but deny his or her own self.

This self-denial might feel noble, ascetic, or superior, but because it conflicts with the melancholic’s deeper self, their already scant resources are further limited and squandered simply to maintain this complex internal dynamic, this inner tension.

In summary, we are unexcitable and find it hard to refresh and let go. On top of that, we’re liable to tie ourselves in knots trying to fit into our environment rather than changing the environment to suit ourselves. Our limited energy is depleted in fighting against ourselves.

In my experience, it’s simply not possible to become as energetic as a sanguine or a choleric, nor as placid as a phlegmatic.

But we can at least recognise our natural limits, and more importantly we can try to reduce the inner conflicts and tensions that drain our energy before we even start our day.

To this end, it helps to know that our true self is good. In most religions and philosophies, human beings are either born or created good, but something goes wrong along the way.

The point is that we don’t need to add new layers to our personality. We don’t need to tie ourselves up further. We need to get rid of layers, and untie the knots, trusting that what lies beneath it all will be whole and true.

Ultimately, these layers and knots are based on falsehoods and misunderstandings. That’s why knowing the truth will set us free.

Temperament Tests

I just came across this temperament test created by a historian of ideas from Paris.

Her book is a history of the humours in Western medicine and culture, and that includes the temperaments.

Have a go at the test. Every test has its limitations, and I did this one a couple of times because I had conflicting responses to some questions.

Regardless, I ended up predominantly melancholic each time, as expected:

http://www.passionsandtempers.com/v1/page.php?l=en&p=test

As a bonus, she offers some historical medical advice for balancing out your humours! Mine included taking a one hour walk every day, to which I had an immediate visceral reaction of opposition and incredulity. So it’s probably good advice.

 

This next test was sent to me by a friend some time ago. As with all tests, I found the questions a little hard to answer. For example, when it asks whether I prefer novelty or routine, my first thought is that of course I prefer novelty. But that just means I like the idea of novelty. If I look objectively at my life, I obviously don’t like novelty…I am a terrifyingly routine person.

http://personality-testing.info/tests/O4TS/

This test was created using self-descriptions from people who already knew their temperament – which explains why I laughed so hard at some of the criteria, such as “I radiate joy”.

Yep, that’s me alright.

The actual explanations of the temperament aren’t amazing, but it’s still one of the best tests I’ve seen.

 

Melancholic learning styles

I’ve had a few people turn up here searching for problems that a melancholic might experience in learning.

I tried writing a reply, but the attempt to be thorough killed my motivation.

So there’s the first clue: motivation for a melancholic is vital.

I learn best when I have a single burning question to answer, an intuition to explore, or an idea to develop.

So I really get Confucius:

The Master said, “Ts’ze, you think, I suppose, that I am one who learns many things and keeps them in memory?”

Tsze-kung replied, “Yes,-but perhaps it is not so?”

“No,” was the answer; “I seek a unity all pervading.”

An alternative translation refers to a single thread that binds all of his knowledge together. That’s what melancholics need, I think, at least when we’re trying to learn.

A single thread

A few weeks ago after martial arts practice, I asked a friend about his learning process.

His explanation of how he learns was completely foreign to me.

He said that the martial art we learn is made up of lots of different components that need to be developed in parallel. When he focuses on any given component he can tell that out of ten repetitions, some will be better than others. That gives him a clear sense of how he needs to improve. He simply knows what direction to head in.

By contrast, I find it confusing to think of lots of different components that each needs strengthening. I prefer to think of these components coming together to form a coherent whole. And this means having a highly-developed theory of how the martial art works. I seek a unity, all pervading.

Likewise, the idea of simply recognising when one repetition is better than another is outside my experience. I don’t know what direction to head in unless I have a theoretical framework to guide the way.

Why do I need strong theoretical support for a physical activity?

Well, remember that the melancholic is characterised by being unexcitable, with enduring impressions. It’s hard to learn anything when you aren’t excited, and that’s why melancholics need a strong motivation in the form of a question, an idea, or a problem to solve.

Without these things, the pointlessness and tedium of study and practice becomes unbearable. It is so much harder to retain 100 pointless facts, than to solve an interesting problem, even though you might learn the same 100 facts along the way.

With physical activity the approach to learning is similar. Instead of pointless facts, we have an array of sensory data that makes no sense without a theoretical context (like a question or a problem) to help us shape and frame it.

Without a theoretical framework, all the information from my body streams in like a torrent, and I can’t tell what is relevant and what isn’t.

There are days at training where my whole theory has burst like a bubble against some countervailing revelation from my teacher. I try going through the motions, but it feels as though I have no idea what I’m doing.

After a while I remember the parts of the theory that haven’t been shattered. I slowly piece it back together and try to reconcile it with the new data. Eventually I’m back on track.

From an outsider’s point of view it would look like I’ve suddenly forgotten years of training in an instant.

So that’s one aspect of the melancholic learning style. It sounds pretty bad.

The positive side of it is that once you’ve mastered your theoretical grasp of the subject, you know it inside-out. You can take it places no one else may have even thought to take it. And you can quickly see the connections and the contrasts with other theories, systems, and ideas.

In other words, whatever you have learned becomes a part of the greater all-pervading unity.

TCAW: Corporal punishment for Goblins

Judging by the feedback, everyone’s favourite character in my new fantasy novel To Create a World is Torvol the Goblin:

“All goblins are beaten when we’re young,” Torvol explained, “it makes us hungry.”

“Hungry?”

“For power, for position, for profit. Beating is a challenge, not a punishment. So a goblin child who is more fearful than the others will get extra beatings – but he’ll also know he’s getting extra beatings, that he’s being singled out.”

“I don’t get it.”

“If he knows he’s getting extra beatings, then there’s nothing left for him to be afraid of. The worst has already happened. He’s surviving harsher treatment than the others. It’s all part of goblin formation, Tom. The confident ones realise they’re getting away lightly, and that makes them doubt their strength a little. The insecure ones realise they’re enduring the worst of anyone, and that gives them confidence. It’s brilliant.”

“I bet you were never beaten then,” Tom said morosely.

“Oh, I had my fair share,” Torvol grinned. But then his smile twisted bitterly. “But there are far worse things for a goblin than being beaten.”

Tom was too deeply immersed in his worries to ask what that meant.

“So are you going to beat me?” he asked instead.

“No, Tom, I’m not going to beat you,” Torvol sighed. “In the end you’re not a goblin. Who knows what effect it would have on you?”

I enjoyed writing Torvol because he’s almost the complete opposite of Tom. He’s choleric to Tom’s melancholic, but that rare breed of choleric who’s wise enough to be magnanimous without losing the inherent sharpness of his temperament.

I think many readers enjoyed seeing the Goblin tear into Tom, pushing him not so gently into getting his act together. And I loved that Tom was finally forced to confront a perspective so different from his own, without the excuse of turning the Goblin into an enemy.

It was also fun to try out some of my temperament ideas – wondering what it would be like for a whole race of creatures to be more choleric as an entire people and culture. Choleric was the obvious choice for Goblins, not because all cholerics are devious, subterranean, greedy little monsters (I still have choleric friends…) but because (brace yourselves, melancholics) the choleric temperament would ennoble the otherwise borderline-evil Goblin race, giving them a worldview and a way of thinking that encompasses not only greed and cunning, but wisdom and greatness also.

Torvol gave me an opportunity to play with the strengths of the choleric temperament – ambition and a quick wit – to offset Tom’s weaknesses, without him becoming choleric in the process. Who wouldn’t want a Torvol to advise them from time to time? Someone wiser and more astute than you, with an unrelenting yet open-minded conception of profit. You’ll be pleased to know I have big plans for him in future books.

If you enjoyed this excerpt about Torvol the Goblin, you might like my new fantasy novel To Create a WorldCheck it out!

Searching for Four Temperaments info?

I’m planning to write a book about the Four Temperaments theory, but in the meantime I notice some of the search terms that bring people to my page, and in lieu of actual questions I thought I would respond to some of them.

choleric sanguine mbti

I use Keirsey’s temperaments to match the four temperaments to the MBTI, though I don’t necessarily follow his system.

Cholerics are Keirsey’s “rational” which is NT in MBTI terms.

Sanguines are Keirsey’s “artisan” which is SP.

My theory is that one’s secondary temperament corresponds to one’s inverse Myers-Briggs Type. So for a person to exhibit both NT and SP characteristics suggests extroverted sensing is in their functional stack, as either their tertiary or inferior function. So if we know that an NT has extroverted Sensing (SP) in third or fourth place, then they must have the inverse in their perceiving function: introverted Intuition. That means a Choleric-Sanguine (as in, a Choleric with secondary Sanguine characteristics) must be an NTJ, either an ENTJ or INTJ.

In theory, an ENTJ will be more Sanguine than an INTJ, because the extroverted Sensing (SP) that makes Sanguines what they are will be tertiary for an ENTJ and inferior in an INTJ, hence more prominent in the former.

is melancholic sensor or intuitive

Intuitive. Definitely intuitive. Melancholics are NF according to the MBTI.

skill and ways of learning sanguine temperament

From the temperament perspective, Sanguines are easily distracted and like “nice things” which includes beautiful objects, fun experiences, social events, etc. In MBTI terms, it helps to consider that Sanguines are defined by their extroverted Sensing, which simply means they are oriented to their sensory input from the external world.

I like to think of Sanguines as being either “entertainment” types or “artisan” types, borrowing from Keirsey a little. Every Sanguine I’ve ever met enjoys a party, but some are more introverted than others and seem more inclined to make things. Bear in mind that Sanguines in the MBTI system can either be Thinking or Feeling dominant, so I wouldn’t generalise about how they learn. The common factor is their appreciation for sensory stimuli.

i am melancholic but i have met some choleric type guys but we always end up fighting why

Because Cholerics are *****.

Just kidding. Some of my best friends are Choleric, I swear!

In the temperament system, both Cholerics and Melancholics form long-lasting impressions of the world. The difference between them is that Cholerics are excitable, which translates into ambition, desire to accomplish things, and pride. Melancholics are not excitable, which translates into hesitancy, rumination or endless reflection, risk-aversion and pessimism. But despite these differences, they are nonetheless on the same “wavelength” when compared to the other two temperaments.

Melancholics and Cholerics will often end up fighting because the Choleric will come across as arrogant, insensitive, and willing to do whatever it takes to get what he wants. The Melancholic will come across as stubborn, unwilling to cooperate (or be manipulated), and risk averse. Cholerics and Melancholics are most likely to clash when the Melancholic has something that the Choleric wants or needs to accomplish his goals.

By contrast, Sanguines and Phlegmatics can usually be convinced to go along with a Choleric’s plans. They seem more “open-minded”, less risk averse, and often have a shorter memory for the manipulation, forcefulness and deceit that some (many?) Cholerics will use to get their own way.

Ultimately, both Cholerics and Melancholics like to be in control, actively for the former and passively for the latter. Hence conflict is often assured.

intps introverted sanguine

I don’t think so. An INTP should be a Choleric, and extroverted Sensing (SP) should be difficult for them according to the MBTI.

mbti 4 temperaments

I use Keirsey’s Temperament Sorter which does a good job of linking temperaments to MBTI. Just treat the Guardian as Phlegmatic, the Artisan as Sanguine, the Idealist as Melancholic, and the Rational as Choleric.

melancholics and high stress

No thank you.

Actually, Melancholics are quite gifted at creating their own sources of stress. It’s due to the idealism that arises from our lack of excitability and enduring impressions. We don’t get excited by the same things as everyone else, but positive and negative experiences leave a deep impression on us. As a result, we start searching for rules or principles or ideals that can help us to operate more effectively in the world. Unfortunately this very search tends to make us less pragmatic and less tolerant of our own mistakes and imperfections in the world.

In addition, our society tends to be dominated by Choleric and Sanguine and to a lesser extent Phlegmatic influences. We’re told to be more aggressive, ambitious, competitive, and achievement-oriented. We’re encouraged to consume, to have fun, to be easy-going, to smile a lot, and be sociable. Finally, we’re told at the very least to obey the rules, to not make trouble for others, to not stand out, and not be demanding.

So, Melancholics are left trying to find a place in a society that doesn’t really recognise or understand their temperament, with the additional handicap of not knowing their own temperament very well either, and to top it all off they go in search of answers that tend to exacerbate the problem of fitting in.

infp melancholic temperament

All NF types are Melancholic according to Keirsey’s system. INFPs are more likely to be Melancholic with a strong Phlegmatic influence, because their tertiary function is introverted Sensing – the defining feature of the Phlegmatic.

Melancholic-Phlegmatics are hard to find, perhaps because they’re more likely to be at home on their own.

Their idealistic Melancholic characteristics are influenced by the Phlegmatic’s desire to avoid conflict, follow the rules, and get the details right. I think this tends to conflict with the Melancholic desire for eccentricity, radical change, and frustration at the status quo.

melancholy temperament and worrying

Melancholics worry because the experience of being unexcitable but with enduring impressions is like living in the midst of a thick fog, while you’re assailed from all around by the sounds of people enjoying life, achieving things, yelling at you to get out of their way or cajoling you to follow their lead.

All you can see are the brightest lights and the biggest landmarks, but you’re not even sure how close they are, let alone how to reach them.

Occasionally you work out where you are and what lies in front of you, but then the fog swirls and you’re lost in it once again.

So you worry. You worry about going the wrong way, falling down in a hole, getting in people’s way, failing to arrive at your destination, having the wrong destination, and so on.

In real life you don’t even realise there is a fog. So you experience worry on a more subconscious level with the sense that something just isn’t right, that you don’t fully understand what everyone else is doing and why, and they in turn don’t seem to understand you at all.

strange melancholics

Yes.

Imagine if everyone around you suddenly became fascinated with cat feces. They started collecting it, writing about it, featuring it on the news. Some people accumulate huge piles of cat feces and are celebrated as heroes and pillars of society. Cat feces becomes a new currency, a status symbol, and an object of adoration.

What would you do? Maybe you shrug your shoulders and do your best to fake enthusiasm about other people’s cat feces and amass your own modest collection. After all, there are bills to pay.

But you would never get genuinely excited about it, and so you’d never really be able to relate to others. You’d wish there was something more to life than cat feces.

Everyone else would think you were strange.

 

That’s probably enough for now. I’ll continue later when I have the time…

Symbolism of posture

I’ve known for a while that there’s something wrong with my posture, but it’s only in the last year that I’ve resorted to learning basic functional anatomy to troubleshoot the problems for myself.

I’ve been learning about extension and flexion of the various joints, bony landmarks, specific muscles and their antagonists, as well as common postural deficiencies like forward head posture, excessive lordosis of the lumbar spine, kyphosis of the thoracic spine, pelvic tilt, rib flare, and so on.

There are lots of variables to examine and many of them are inter-dependent. For example: I started with the issue of rounded shoulders, which is really about protraction of the scapulae. I worked on trying to fix that for a while, but with limited success. Eventually I realised I was flaring out my ribs too much, which is really an issue of excessive extension at the thoraco-lumbar spine – the middle of the spine.

To correct the rib flare requires engaging abdominal muscles to pull the ribs down, but this in turn is not feasible unless the pelvis is correctly aligned. Anterior pelvic tilt tends to weaken the abdominals and the gluteals, while shortening the lower back muscles and the hip flexors.

By the time I’d worked all this out I’d forgotten about the shoulder protraction issue, so it’s come full-circle again.

Beyond anatomy

I think there’s also a symbolic or psychological aspect to these postural issues.

Posture is directly linked to the psyche in two main ways: first, we use posture to communicate with others. Defensive and submissive postures indicate to others that we wish to avoid confrontation. Hunching or rounding the shoulders, dropping the head, collapsing the chest all communicate submission by making us appear physically smaller and weaker.

Second, bad posture feels awful. It makes us irritable and stressed, takes more energy to maintain, and discourages us from the physical exertion required to accomplish daily activities and meaningful projects.

Forward head posture

So let’s take forward head posture as an example.

There’s a simple behavioural component, in that we spend a lot of time sitting at computers or staring at mobile phones or tablets. These activities tend to encourage forward movement of the head.

But moving your head forward to stare at the computer screen isn’t necessary. Perhaps it’s a by-product of intense focus, or maybe it’s a result of the conflict between a sedentary seating position combined with active visual attention.

Even before I began looking into posture I knew I had problems with my neck. It feels incredibly stiff at times, and occasionally it would ache from the tension. Symbolically, I used to relate this tension to my analytical and overly-intellectual approach to life.

I think a lot. I think about everything, all the time. 80-90% of my waking hours involve thinking about something, and this hasn’t changed in over a decade.

I’ve tried a lot of things to let go of this excessive intellection, but I’ve never found a simple solution. The complex solution has been to keep thinking about it, or at least try to improve the efficiency of my thinking in hopes that I’d eventually find the answer.

Trying to think of a solution to excessive thinking may sound counter-intuitive. As Maslow wrote:

“I suppose it is tempting, if the only tool you have is a hammer, to treat everything as if it were a nail.”

But if the only tool you have is a hammer, it’s not too outrageous to prioritise all your hammering tasks…maybe see how far hammering alone will get you.

Nonetheless, I can’t ignore the symbolism of forward head posture as a psychosomatic effort to lead with one’s head – putting one’s mind out in front.

And compared to what?

Well if I try to correct my head position, I immediately feel that my throat, chest, and whole torso are more open and exposed. That’s why dropping the head is a defensive position: better to get hit in the chin than in the throat.

If the head is associated with thinking, the chest or the heart is associated with feeling. Perhaps the symbolism of forward head posture is an attempt to use thinking, intellect, and analysis, to get out in front of feeling?

Melancholics are, after all, feeling-oriented. The effort to analyse life rather than feeling it directly is an established trope or cliche, and it makes sense that a feeling-oriented person would compromise their posture through such an effort. Feeling can be a confusing and seemingly ineffectual function. It gives long, slow answers when what we might prefer are short, convenient, and maybe conventional solutions. Feeling often points a direction with no hint as to the final destination.

We can easily blame behaviour for bad posture, and it certainly plays a role. But our psychology also makes us more susceptible to particular behaviours. Maintaining a postural deficiency takes constant effort, and trying to explain it as merely the outcome of certain behaviours like staring at a computer screen is question-begging. Why, after all, am I spending so much time happily staring at a computer screen if it is damaging my posture?

Looking at a postural problem in the broader context of one’s behaviours, psychology, and temperament can reveal symbolic relationships and even solutions.

Not that I found the solution by examining the symbolism, mind you. It’s eight to ten years since I first thought my neck trouble might be linked to my intellectual outlook, but the more I hammered away at that question, the more ingrained my intellectual efforts became.

It’s taken life experience, grudging and sometimes grueling lessons to reveal the real meaning and importance of feeling in my life, and how this mysterious function is to be embraced.

So now my old speculations about the symbolism of posture have come to mind, more like a memory or a realisation than a solution. The solution has happened on a deeper level, and now the recognition of it comes like an afterword, tying up loose ends when the real story is done.

 

How we vote: the four temperaments

My latest piece at MercatorNet suggests that differences in temperament may explain why otherwise intelligent and like-minded people have fallen apart over voting for Trump.

Choleric temperaments see the world in terms of achievement and ambition. They excel at rational calculations of whatever is to their advantage. Voting in an election is no different from investing in the stock market – you want to park your money or your vote where it has the best chance of making a return.

By contrast, the melancholic temperament sees the world in terms of ideals. For a melancholic, a vote for Trump implies an endorsement of the man and his politics, with all the accountability such support entails. In an ideal world, voters would take personal responsibility for the moral character of the candidate they support.

http://www.mercatornet.com/features/view/why-we-vote-the-difference-temperament-makes/18928

 

Who’s afraid of the MBTI?

Dtcwee posted this video along with an interesting set of questions in response to the previous post on Temperaments and the MBTI:

I think this is the first time you’ve touched on both the Four Temperaments and the MBTI.
The poetic way the Temperaments are described makes the MBTI dry and pseudo-scientific in comparison.
You may find it interesting that Briggs originally had four types (meditative/thoughtful, spontaneous, executive, and social) which she mashed up with Jung’s four cognitive types (thinking, feeling, sensation, and intuition).
This raises for me the following questions:
Do Temperaments appeal to different people than MBTI? And if so, then to who and how?
What is it with the number four? Don’t they know it’s super-unlucky? Can’t they just, like the Yi Jing, have inferior and superior?

Do Temperaments appeal to different people than MBTI? And if so, then to who and how?

It’s hard to say. The Temperaments are not as widely known as the MBTI. They’re popular in different circles, partly indeed because the MBTI can be presented in a pseudoscientific form, whereas the Four Temperaments are an anachronistic protoscience.

The Four Temperaments are named after bodily humours, a remnant of their origins in Galenic medicine: blood, phlegm, yellow bile, and black bile.

The MBTI types are presented in quasi-binary digital form, as acronyms reminiscent of modern medical, governmental, and technological contexts, like how the NSA could tell I have ADHD simply by monitoring my ADSL.

If you read much of the press on the MBTI, you’ll soon discover that it is extremely popular in the corporate world, and almost equally unpopular in the academic world. That is, no one takes it seriously in academic (or clinical) psychology, yet Human Resources departments love the stuff.

Why? It’s hard to say. Maybe it’s because corporations are intrinsically fascist, and love the idea of being able to administer a test to find out your intrinsic suitability for any given role? It reminds me of Brave New World:

Alpha children wear grey. They work much harder than we do, because they’re so frightfully clever. I’m really awfully glad I’m a Beta, because I don’t work so hard. And then we are much better than the Gammas and Deltas. Gammas are stupid. They all wear green, and Delta children wear khaki. Oh no, I don’t want to play with Delta children. And Epsilons are still worse.

Or maybe the MBTI was just in the right place at the right time to become the reigning personality theory of the corporate world? It must have seemed very scientific and objective when it first appeared, and to be honest there’s not really anything more robust to replace it.

In terms of genuine psychology, the Big Five are robust, but don’t operate in the same way…they might be reliable markers of personality, but what people really want from the MBTI and the Temperaments is a deeper understanding of themselves and others. They want a theory or a model that lets you extrapolate from the observable, rather than merely measure the observable.

I find the MBTI exhausting at a certain point, and I can’t quite tell if it’s because the model overreaches itself  making predictions or deductions it can’t support, or (in MBTI terms) if it’s because the system and its presentation are so counter-intuitive.

That’s one way of interpreting the ‘dry’ aspect you noted: for an Intuitive type, the MBTI has some glaring faults in its presentation…or at least the way it is usually presented by enthusiasts online or in grueling HR glad-handling sessions.

Can you pick, for example, the irony implicit in arranging a whole-day team meeting to learn about the MBTI and discover your and your colleagues’ types? It doesn’t matter how earnestly you assert that all the 16 types are equally special, when the organisation itself is heavily slated toward particular types.

We introverts did manage to get the highly extroverted HR lady to admit that the organisation itself favours an EST perspective: extroverted, sensing, and thinking.

Likewise, the presentation and systemisation of the MBTI do not seem to sit well with the Intuitive function. There’s a disjoint between the presentation and the underlying principles that is either arcane or just clumsy.

Ideally, the four letters in the acronym would have equal weighting, right? But the I/E is about your overall orientation, the S/N and T/F are about cognitive functions, and the P/J is about the orientation of those functions.

That’s why rationalist (NT) types online will encourage people to forget about the labels and instead focus on understanding the functions.  Because if you just study the labels and their descriptions you’ll only get a superficial understanding of the whole system.

To be continued…

Temperaments and the MBTI

Following up on the previous post where I introduced Keirsey’s Temperament Sorter, how about we take a look in more detail at the implications of linking the temperaments to the Myers-Briggs system?

keirsey

We’ll stick with the Idealist type, which corresponds to the Melancholic temperament.

First a brief run-down on the MBTI.

I was reintroduced to the system in my previous workplace as part of a Human Resources thing. I use the word ‘thing’ advisedly, since that particular episode defies more insightful analysis.

I fully intended to write something hateful and contemptuous about it, but found in the course of further research that I had a great deal of sympathy for the system, if not the practice of it in a corporate environment.

As with my aversion to corporate meditation, the problems lie in the self-serving, incoherent, and banal spirit that infects everything it comes into contact with, no matter how good or noble or valuable (or simply harmless) it may be.

So I spent some time digging deeper into the MBTI and came across various good resources.

The core of it lies in the cognitive functions of perceiving and judging. Perceiving comes in two forms: Sensing (S) and Intuition (N). Judging also comes in two forms: Feeling (F) and Thinking (T).

That gives four possible combinations of perceiving and judging: SF, ST, NF, and NT.

Broadly speaking, you could say that Sensing is about facts, details, and precision. Intuition is about patterns, similarities, and generalities. Feeling is about meaning, relation, and authenticity. Thinking is about reason, systems, and achieving goals.

To make matters more complex, the MBTI theory holds that these perceiving and judging functions are further divided by introversion and extroversion. That is, we use different functions to perceive interiorly as opposed to exteriorly, and likewise with judging.

If a person uses Sensing to interpret the exterior world, they will use Intuition to interpret the interior world. If a person uses Thinking to arrive at judgements about external things, they will use Feeling to reach decisions about internal ones.

In terms of notation, we can add a little i or e to the functions. So an NF person may be NiFe (introverted Intuition and extroverted Feeling) or NeFi (extroverted Intuition and introverted Feeling).

Not only are your functions introverted and extroverted, but you yourself are also more or less introverted or extroverted. In fact, introversion and extroversion of the individual (as opposed to the functions) is one of the most solidly researched and supported aspects of personality theory generally.

Why does this matter? Well, if your functions are NiFe, but you yourself are predominantly introverted (I), then your individual focus is going to be centred more on your introverted function: Ni – introverted Intuition.  That is to say that your introverted Intuition is going to figure more in your experience of life than your extroverted Feeling.

An Extroverted NiFe person will have the inverse experience. They will still have introverted Intuition, but their extroverted Feeling will be more central to their experience.

For some reason, the Myers-Briggs notation settled on four characters. So instead of writing, for example, INiFe, they write INF, and add a P or J to tell you which of the functions is extroverted.

Thus, an Introverted person who has introverted Intuition (Ni) and extroverted Feeling (Fe) will be written as INFJ, because the Judging function is extroverted. Conversely, an Introverted person who has extroverted Intuition (Ne) and introverted Feeling (Fi) will be written as INFP.

Phew! This is hard work. Writing strictly explanatory material like this is rather exhausting. A structured, detailed approach is really better suited to a Sensing type.

Anyhow, as I was saying, all NF types are classed as Idealists in Keirsey’s system, which corresponds to the Melancholic temperament. But in MBTI terms, there are still notable differences between the various NF subtypes. An INFJ and an INFP may have a lot in common, but these commonalities will highlight their differences as well.

One way of thinking about these differences is in terms of temperament. There aren’t a lot of Melancholics around (half of them are hiding), but even so I know enough of them to spot consistent differences. Some Melancholics are a little, dare I say, Sanguine. Others are a little more Phlegmatic.

We might, in the typically crude style of the temperaments theory, suggest that some people are Melancholic-Sanguine and others are Melancholic-Phlegmatic. And if we look at the MBTI in Keirsey’s approach, we can see how this might work.

An INFJ has Ni and Fe as his predominant functions. But that means he also has Ti and Se as his tertiary and ‘inferior’ functions. Each of us uses all of the functions to greater or lesser degrees. What the MBTI really indicates is one’s preference or strength in the various functions. So when you see NF, you know immediately that S and T are in there somewhere.

Extroverted Sensing (Se) in Keirsey’s system signifies that a person is of the Artisan or Sanguine temperament. Whether you are an ISTP, ESTP, ISFP, or ESFP, you all have extroverted Sensing and are therefore all Sanguines.

This implies that all NFJ types are a little bit Sanguine, since they have Se as either their tertiary (for ENFJ) or inferior (for INFJ) functions.

Accordingly, all NFP types are a little bit Phlegmatic, since INFP and ENFP types have introverted Sensing (Si) as their tertiary and inferior functions respectively.

In theory then, all INFP types are Melancholic-Phlegmatic, though in practice it will depend on the individual as to how strong the relevant functions are. The functions of any given INFP will tend to be arranged as follows in order of preference: Fi, Ne, Si, Te.

But if you’ve ever done an MBTI test, you might find some unusual results. You might find, for example, that your inferior function is almost as strong as your dominant function.  In fact, before I really understood the functions I was never sure if I was INFP or INTP, because I usually scored equally high in both F and T.

As various sources suggest, the inferior function is not supposed to be so strong but can emerge under stress or duress, or even as part of a developmental stage. The idea is that this weakest function can come to hold a certain mystique, potency or promise. Discovering an underdeveloped function that is, in a sense, the other side of the coin to your dominant function can present apparent opportunities and adventure.

For me, the development of extroverted Thinking coincided with my discovery of a system of ethics and an approach to philosophy that was new, exciting, and extremely powerful.

I pursued this philosophy in a single-minded way for several years. It was pretty much all I talked about.  What I loved most about it was the clarity and certainty it provided, in stark contrast to the relativism and pluralism of the academic philosophy I had been exposed to.

And yet, the more I pursued it the more confined and restricted I felt. The sense of having all the answers at first provided wonder, but eventually the wonder collapsed in on itself. The excitement at having the tools to discover answers in time became weariness at the kinds of answers these tools could provide, or the kinds of puzzles they could solve.

In MBTI terms, I reached the limit of exploring my inferior extroverted Thinking. It no longer felt mysterious or interesting or powerful.  The answers it provided may have been as true as ever, but they were no longer satisfying.

Developing or relying on my inferior function skews the results of various tests, and can result in MBTI mis-identification. I did wonder in the past whether I was INTP or INFP…but if we revert to the temperaments theory such mis-identification becomes laughable.

An INTP is, like all NT types, a Choleric. An INFP is, like all NF types, a Melancholic. And while Melancholics and Cholerics can have a lot in common, on closer inspection there is really no mistaking the two.

Yet prior to discovering the four temperaments theory, I did see strong similarities between myself and several Cholerics I know. The similarities are real, but from a Melancholic perspective, they are not as significant as the elements that give us a different ‘feel’.

And this is, again, where the MBTI suffers compared to the temperaments theory.  By going into greater detail, offering 16 types rather than four main temperaments, by dealing in functions rather than reactions, the MBTI offers a lot more, but at greater risk of confusion and mis-identification.

In a very unMelancholic style, it turns the extremes of the four temperaments into the finely variegated 16 types. It reduces the ancient biological analogy of the humours to the interchangeable binary of the MBTI pigeon-holes, and loses something in the process.  Like the inferior function that (for me) it represents, I don’t mind delving into it on occasion, but it’s not something I can depend on wholeheartedly.

What are you trying to prove?

Dtcwee wondered in response to my previous post:

If proving something to others is unnecessary, I wonder what the blog post is for then.

To be honest, the question struck me as a non sequitur.  There are plenty of reasons to write blog posts besides trying to prove something to others. Wanting to communicate something to an audience is not the same as trying to prove something.

In the previous piece I had written:

I need to advance on the basis of what I know to be true, not on the basis of what I can prove to others

And I went on to provide the context of “theoretical certitude”.

If you replace “prove” with “show to be theoretically certain” in my statement, the meaning will become clearer. Yet if we do the same with dtcwee’s comment, his argument presents an obvious problem.

We could formulate it as follows:

1 Zac says he needs to advance by what he knows to be true not by what he can prove to others.

2 But writing a blog post implies trying to prove something to others.

3 Therefore, Zac either wants to prove something to others and is contradicting himself,

4 or writing a blog post is not always about proving something to others.

It’s tempting to read dtcwee’s comment in the context of the vernacular “prove something to somebody”, meaning:

to substantiate a claim about something to someone; to make someone believe or accept a statement about something.

By this interpretation, one could argue that everyone who publishes online is trying to prove something to somebody, though it may not always be conscious or obvious.

I might be trying to prove to people that I am a deep and thoughtful person, and strive to do so by writing cryptic or convoluted posts. I might, right now, be seeking to prove to people that I can be analytical and logical.

Nonetheless, this is not the interpretation of “prove” that I was using, as illustrated by my use of “theoretical certitude” in the original post. If we factor my meaning into the 4-point formulation above, we quickly spot the error at point 2:

2 But writing a blog post implies trying to show that something is theoretically certain to others.

It should be clear that theoretical certitude is a degree of proof far removed from idiomatic uses like “what are you trying to prove?”.

This kind of misinterpretation is known as equivocation, with wikipedia offering the following example:

A feather is light.
What is light cannot be dark.
Therefore, a feather cannot be dark.

It’s a common problem in argument or debate, and that is why philosophy requires us to define our terms at the outset.  Dtcwee took my use of the word ‘prove’ and treated it according to a different definition.

But that’s not the end of it. Quite apart from the equivocation, I’m curious as to why dtcwee implicitly believes that publishing a blog post denotes trying to prove something to somebody.

I suspect the answer lies (conveniently) in one of my favourite topics: temperament.

The four temperaments see the world differently, have different values, motivations, and perspectives. And this may be as good a time as any to introduce a slightly different take on the four temperaments – the Keirsey Temperament Sorter.

I won’t go into the background and details, but what the American psychologist David Keirsey has done is to group the famous Myers-Briggs personality types into four groups which correspond to the traditional temperaments.

keirsey

Here we can see that the main difference in MBTI terms between the Rationalist (Choleric) and the Idealist (Melancholic) is their Thinking and Feeling functions respectively.  The Rationalist makes decisions based on “objective observations and factual analysis in any given situation”.  Strategic and goal-oriented thinking comes naturally to them.  As such, a Rationalist is predisposed to look for the strategies and goals underlying the behaviour of others.

By contrast an Idealist makes decisions on the basis of his feeling, which is just as obscure as it sounds. An Idealist is not precluded from making objective observations and factual analysis, but at the end of it all, he will make a decision based on how he feels. It is hard to describe, but just as thoughts may be true or false, so things can feel right or wrong. Things that feel right usually point toward meaning, purpose, identity, authenticity, and other ideals.

When I write, I almost always do so for the sake of ideals. I write to uncover meaning, I write with a goal of authenticity, and I write to establish and clarify my own identity for myself. These are all fairly self-absorbed purposes for which an audience is nonetheless important firstly because it imposes a discipline and a rigor that might otherwise wane, and secondly because ideals shared and communicated are thereby strengthened and clarified.

At least, that’s the ideal.

What my blog posts are for is primarily to discover something for myself through the creative and expressive effort. Half-formed ideas can expand, or collapse under their own weight. Intuitions can be tested. Ideals can be explored. If it’s of benefit to anyone else, that is a wonderful side-effect. But if I tried to think strategically about it, my motivation would shrivel up and die.

The Keirsey system offers a different perspective on the temperaments by aligning them with the Myers-Briggs functions. However, in so doing it brings forward other more refined possibilities. 16 types are more particular than four temperaments, and there’s a risk of getting lost in the minor details of the MBTI.

One of the reasons I like the temperament theory so much is that it is imprecise. It’s rough around the edges and barely doctrinaire, in a way that perfectly suits our imprecise nature. So I don’t take Keirsey dogmatically.

That said, there are interesting questions to consider and explore in detail: such as the shared intuitive function of Cholerics and Melancholics that makes them in many ways so similar.

Or the ‘slowness’ of both the Melancholic and the Phlegmatic perhaps arising from very different causes: the obscure strangeness of feeling in the one, and the introverted sensing in the other.

Likewise the excitability of Cholerics and Sanguines is, in Keirsey’s arrangement, most likely due to the powerful thinking function of the former, and the extroverted sensing of the latter.

Going further, you could explore some of the nuances of interaction between the different temperaments, such as why Cholerics often make Melancholics uneasy. I suspect it’s because despite sharing the same or similar intuitive function, Cholerics are quick to think in directions that don’t feel right to the Melancholic. Likewise, Cholerics may get frustrated with Melancholics whose rambling observations and insights never get to the damn point….