You've probably heard this story.
Aron Ralston was out climbing in Utah's Bluejohn Canyon when a giant rock shifted under his
feet, and he fell, pinning his right arm to the canyon wall. He was stuck, and worse,
he hadn't told anyone where we was going.
For the next five days, Ralston tried to move and chip away at the rock. He ate his remaining
food, drank the last of his water. Eventually he drank his own urine, and started videotaping
his goodbyes.
But then something happened. Ralston had a dream. He saw himself as a father, picking
up his son, and with that vision, an overpowering will to survive kicked in. He broke his arm
bones, sawed through his flesh with a dull pocket knife, and freed himself.
Ralston harnessed some of our most powerful psychological forces -- hunger, thirst, desire
to be part of a family, need to return to the human community -- they ignited his tenacity,
which allowed him to do an incredible thing.
He harnessed the power of motivation.
Obviously, in a big, big way.
[INTRO]
In its most basic sense, motivation is the need or desire to do something. Whether that
need is biological, social, or emotional, and whether that something is making dinner,
going to college, or cutting off your arm, motivation is what gets you moving.
But the big question is, why? Why do we do anything? I mean, why ever bother changing
out of my sweatpants?
Psychologists often view motivation in one of four ways. On their own, none of these
theories is perfect, but taken together, they help us understand what drives us. Let's start
with the first theory: an evolutionary perspective.
For a while in the early 20th century, it was popular to think of all behaviors as instincts,
or innate drives to act a certain way. But this so-called Instinct Theory was misguided,
in part because the presence of a tendency doesn't always mean it's supposed to be there.
Like, we can imagine why a bunch of people might start rioting at a heated soccer match,
but to say that they're supposed to -- a little short-sighted.
Evolution is a far more complex, chaotic, and interesting process than that. Plenty
of behaviors could just be accidents of evolution -- late paleontologist Stephen Jay Gould called
these accidents "spandrels," or traits that rather than being "adaptive" just stuck around
as byproducts of other processes.
Today we define instincts as complex, unlearned behaviors that have a fixed pattern throughout
a species. For example, dogs instinctively shake their fur when wet, salmon return to
the stream in which they hatched, and human babies know how to suckle just minutes after
being born.
These are true, genetically-predisposed instincts that do not require learning.
But today we understand that while certain tendencies may be genetic, individual experience
plays a major role in behavior and motivation, as well.
So another theory of motivation suggests that a physiological need, or drive, simply compels
us to reduce that need. This is called the drive-reduction theory. This can be as simple
as hearing my stomach growl, and looking for a burrito. My need is food, my drive is hunger,
my drive-reduction behavior is burrito.
Drive reduction is all about maintaining your body's homeostasis -- the physiological balance
of its systems.
As much as we're pushed to reduce our drives, we're also pulled along by incentives — the
positive or negative stimuli that either entice or repel us. The mouth-watering smell of that
burrito pulls me toward it, just as much as my hunger pushes me there.
However, we're also clearly more complicated than our homeostatic systems, and drive-reduction
theory may over-simplify a lot of our behavior. For example, a person may fast for days, ignoring
their body's hunger to honor some spiritual or political cause; and I know I'm not the
only one who sometimes eats when I'm not actually hungry.
So a third theory -- the theory of optimal arousal -- attempts to fill in some of those
gaps. It suggests rather than just reducing a drive or tension, like hunger, we're motivated
to maintain a balance between stimulation and relaxation.
Say you're holed up in your house all weekend studying. You're bored and lonely and gettin'
weird, so you call up some friends to go mountain biking or to a karaoke bar or whatever you
like to do to for stimulation.
The idea here is that you want to hit the right level of arousal -- which, take note,
psychologists often use in a non-sexual sense -- without getting overstimulated and stressed.
So if you nearly break your face on that bike ride, or if the Journey covers at karaoke
start getting too intense, you may need to back off and take a nap.
Of course everyone has a different level of optimal arousal, and I'm guessing Aron Ralston's
was fairly high. Adrenaline junkies may jump out of planes to hit their ideal level, whereas
others might be satiated by an engaging book, or new knitting pattern. No matter which,
the optimal arousal theory suggests that we're motivated to avoid both boredom and stress.
And obviously not all needs are created equally. If I'm suffocating and can't catch a breath,
I'm not going to be thinking about eating that burrito. And if I'm about to be ravaged
by lions, I'm not going to worrying about my paycheck.
American psychologist Abraham Maslow illustrated this shuffling of priorities in the mid-1900's
with his famous hierarchy of needs.
Down at the bottom of the pyramid you'll find our most basic physiological needs for food,
water, air, and moderate temperatures.
The next rung up speaks to our need for safety, then comes love and belonging, followed by
esteem or respect, and finally, once all those needs have been met, we have the relative
luxury of being motivated by self-actualization and spiritual growth, and yoga retreats and
stuff.
Of course there are problems with Maslow's vision. Empirical research hasn't really supported
his hierarchy. We tend to skip around on that pyramid all the time, and the importance of
those higher-level needs may vary depending on our culture and finances and personalities.
But still, everyone is restricted by the lowest levels of the pyramid. So, regardless of the
theories about why we have them, most schools of psychological thought agree that we are
driven by at least three big motivators: sex, hunger, and the need to belong.
We'll do a whole lesson later about all sorts of sex-related stuff, including how it motivates
us. There's a lot there. For now, let's just say that sexual motivation is how we promote
the survival of our species through recreation and/or procreation - both of which help human
communities bond and expand. Without it, none of us would be here today, thinking about
burritos and severed arms and sex and stuff.
Internally, we are biologically driven to knock boots by our sex hormones. We're also
motivated by psychological and sociocultural influences - ranging from suggestive external
stimuli plastered all over billboards, magazines, and TVs in the form of, you know, scantily-clad
bodies sprawled out on beaches to more genteel desires like love, family, or adherence to
personal, religious, or cultural values.
Sex is a big motivator, but it isn't precisely a need, no matter what anyone has told you.
People do not die without it.
Hunger, though...
After air and water, food is our body's greatest need, and thus obtaining food is one of our
greatest motivations.
Hunger may seem pretty simple. Eat food, stay alive. But physiologically and psychologically,
there is a lot going on. And like so many things, it starts in the brain.
The sensation of hunger usually begins with a drop in your blood-sugar level. Glucose
is our body's primary source of energy, and while you might not initially feel it drop,
your brain will.
Your hypothalamus monitors your blood chemistry, and responds to both high levels of the "hunger
hormone" ghrelin, and low levels of glucose by triggering that feeling of hunger reminding
you to eat something. I am in fact experiencing it right now!
Once you've eaten that burrito, your metabolism takes over, converting that food into energy.
But while our physiological need for calories varies depending on our body size and composition,
your gender, and your age, our hunger is also shaped by our psychology, culture, and mood.
And these factors don't just rule when we're hungry, they also guide what we're hungry
for.
Biologically speaking, most humans, and many other animals, have a genetic taste for sweets
and fatty foods, because they're typically high in energy. But other taste preferences
are conditioned through experience and culture.
I may have an aversion to oysters because they once made me sick, and love gingerbread
cookies because my grandma used to make them. Although popular in Cambodia, I'm not too
keen on eating fried tarantulas, just as lots of folks around the world think that the very
idea of peanut butter is gross.
Still, the feeling of hunger affects us the same.
During World War Two in the US, some conscientious objectors volunteered for medical research
as an alternative way to serve their country.
Perhaps the most famous of these studies was physiologist Ancel Keys' Minnesota Hunger
Experiment, which measured the effects of semistarvation, by partially starving its
volunteers.
While ethically dubious, the experiment was geared toward understanding the many small
and large effects of hunger, which was plaguing Europe at the time.
The study started in 1944, by feeding 36 young, healthy men a normal diet for three months,
then halving their caloric intake for six months, then slowly rehabilitating them to
normal weight during the last three months.
They ate mostly wartime-foods like root vegetables, bread, and pastas, and were required to walk
22 miles, and participate in various work and educational activities, for 40 hours each
week. The goal was to see a 25 percent drop in body weight during the starvation period.
As you can imagine, the changes were dramatic. The men became gaunt and listless, and showed
a decrease in strength, heart rate, and body temperature.
But the psychological effects were perhaps even more dramatic. The men became totally
obsessed with food. They dreamed about it, talked about it all the time, read cookbooks.
They lost interest in sex and jokes and social activities. They were irritable, anxious,
and depressed.
In the end, they were all rehabilitated, but the study gave us some understanding of the
devastating psychological effects of starvation. It also showed us something of the social
effects, as the men withdrew from one another and isolated themselves. As one fundamental
need was frustrated, these men experienced the decline of another - the need to belong.
Humans are social animals. Evolutionarily speaking, it's fair to say that social bonding
has helped us survive. It's a tough world out there, and we've got a lot better shot
at thriving if we're sharing resources and responsibilities, protecting and supporting
each other in groups.
That isn't say you need to be joined at the hip with everyone--our social needs have to
be balanced with our autonomy, or sense of personal control, so we feel both connected
and independent.
But sometimes we're denied that sense of belonging. We've all experienced the pain of being ignored
or rejected at some point in our lives. It's worse than just about anything.
The evidence for this is abundant - one recent study suggested that teenagers who had a sense
of belonging to their community had better health and emotional outcomes than those who
didn't feel like they belonged.
Cultures all over the world actually use ostracism, or social exclusion, as a type of punishment.
Whether it's kids in time-out, adults in exile, or prisoners in solitary confinement, separation
feels like a punch in the gut.
Never underestimate the power behind what motivates us. The need to survive, the need
to belong... if you can harness that motivation, you can do just about anything. Just ask Aron
Ralston.
If you were motivated to learn today, hopefully you took in four theories of motivation including
the evolutionary perspective, drive-reduction, optimal arousal, and Maslow's hierarchy of
needs, and how sex, hunger, and the need to belong motivate us.
Thanks for watching, especially to our Subbable subscribers who make this whole channel possible.
If you'd like to sponsor an episode of Crash Course or even be animated into an upcoming
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This episode was written by Kathleen Yale, edited by Blake de Pastino, and our consultant
is Dr. Ranjit Bhagwat. Our director and editor is Nicholas Jenkins, the script supervisor
is Michael Aranda, who's also our sound designer, and the graphics team is Thought Café.