I THINK WE SHOULD EMBRACE RELIGIOUS MYTHS

I happened upon this video in which the presenter criticises certain Christian doctrines and how wrong and harmful they are. For example, he states that while Christian doctrine teaches you to deny your flesh, emotions, and feelings, you should embrace them instead—not giving in to every instinct but listening to what your body is telling you through your feelings. He argues that your body has your best interests in mind, and I find this both profound and true.

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The entirety of the Christian faith revolves around salvation. The necessity for salvation is built on the doctrine that humanity is fallen, that we are all born in sin, and that we have a sinful nature—not because of what we've done, but because we inherited this sinful nature from Adam and Eve.

It is shocking how this story and doctrine still hold credence, even among educated individuals, when evolutionary and anthropological findings contradict the historicity of Adam and Eve. Furthermore, the fact of our genetic diversity disproves the notion that we descended from a single couple. Thus, no one is born a sinner.

As someone who was raised in the Christian religion, this is one belief I have had to unlearn. What makes it difficult is how vital this doctrine is to Christianity; it is not only foundational to the faith but also crucial to it. If we did not have a sinful nature—if there were no historical Adam and Eve from whom we inherited our sinful nature—then the death of Jesus is rendered pointless. I believe this is why Christian apologetics fight so hard to defend this story, even in the face of overwhelming evidence against it. This is why a narrative that is supposed to be a myth has been passed down as a historical truth for many years.

However, when this doctrine is taken as a factual truth instead of the myth that it is, it becomes both dangerous and harmful. I can trace many emotional and psychological problems that many individuals face back to it.

As Christians, we are taught that since we are born with a sinful nature, we should not trust anything that comes from within us. We are to deny our emotions and feelings because they are of the fallen man. We are instructed not to rely on our understanding and wisdom, as they are against God. Instead, we must adopt the nature of Christ and await God’s will and direction.

The emotional, psychological, and even mental problems that arise from this belief are evident. While there is an obvious dissonance between doctrine and reality, there are adults who are lost to themselves because they are not in touch with their personalities, which they have been indoctrinated to believe are evil and sinful. As a result, they struggle with self-worth, decision-making, and even fail to develop the ability to question both doctrine and authority figures, thereby missing out on the emotional and intellectual freedom that every healthy adult should enjoy.

Unlearning this doctrine would not be so hard if Christians had not been taught that the Bible is the literal word of God. Hence, any evidence put forward against their doctrine is deemed irrelevant. Just like the apologetics who engage in mental gymnastics to defend their myths and superstitions, I believe Christians are willing participants in a form of folie à deux—knowingly engaged in a shared delusion. This might be because the faith has become their entire identity or because they derive power, respect, relationships, or even emotional support from it.

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As a nominal Christian, while I do not take Christian stories and myths as factual truths, I believe that the Christian faith provides one with a philosophical framework to, if not understand, at least navigate the human experience.

We might not have been born in sin and are not destined for a literal hell because of this; neuroscience and the behavioural sciences may have even provided us with explanations for why people do evil things. However, I also believe that the Christian myths of Adam and Eve, the doctrine of original sin, and salvation were proposed to tackle this exact question as well. If utilised within this context, they can be helpful.

So, while I agree with much of what was said in the video, I think there needs to be some balance. Many criticisms of religion tend to focus on its scientific and ideological flaws and, like me, wonder why people still hold on to it. Yes, religious texts are rife with scientific errors and historical inaccuracies. We also know that these texts are often misogynistic and promote gender inequality. But even with all of that, there are still deeper, epistemic frameworks within these myths that can help us make sense of the human experience.

I also think that both religious and irreligious individuals alike misunderstand the difference between myths, fiction, and superstition.

Myths are not lies. They are traditional stories or narratives that explain the origins and worldviews of a culture and how they perceive and understand the human experience. While they possess both existential and philosophical depth and even moral utility, they are not scientific. They are instead worldviews that people adopt to explain their existence before science. Therefore, while they aren't lies per se, they aren't factual either. They are part of what Yuval Noah Harari calls "fiction." They are creations of human imagination.

According to Yuval Noah Harari, fiction encompasses any kind of story or narrative that humans create and share, which may not necessarily be true or real in a factual sense. Harari explains that fiction includes not only literary works like novels and myths but also broader concepts such as religions, ideologies, and social constructs that shape human societies and behaviours. He suggests that the power of fiction lies in its ability to create shared beliefs and imagined realities that influence human actions and collective behaviour.

Superstitions, however, are beliefs or practices based on the idea that certain actions, events, or objects can influence future outcomes, often through supernatural or unexplained forces. Superstitions are typically individual or local and usually involve cause-and-effect relationships that aren't scientifically supported.

When viewed rightly within this context, one can see the utility of certain myths.

First, I would like to emphasise that we shouldn’t adopt myths to solve any problem that science has already addressed. Myths aren’t scientific and are limited to the worldview from which they originate. However, I do not think that myths are entirely useless and should be discarded. There are certain existential issues that science has no solution for. I believe these are some of the questions we need myths for, pending when and if science provides answers to them.

Take the problem of evil as an example. The behavioural sciences, including psychology, neuroscience, and even economics, have given us the root causes of actions that we might label as evil. For instance, we know that psychopathy is a personality disorder caused by certain dysfunctions in the brain. But when a serial killer takes the life of someone’s child, does this fact provide any emotional solace to the parents? This is the kind of situation where people might turn to spirituality and religion for comfort. And religion and spirituality derive their beliefs and ethos from myths.

There are several questions grieving parents might ask. The existential and philosophical dimensions of these questions often demand that we turn to religion, not science, to provide answers.

How does science explain the cause of human suffering? How does it explain time and chance, fate and destiny?

This is where myths can be utilised, for within their narratives, one can find explanations for existential questions.

How does science explain the cause of human suffering? It doesn’t. But one can turn to the fictitious story of Job, and if they don’t find an answer, they’ll find resonance. The story of Job tells us that human suffering isn’t always a consequence of our actions. People suffer because of cosmic chaos that isn’t within their control.

The story of Cain and Abel isn’t merely a myth about a brother who killed another; it also provides insight into the nature of human jealousy and envy. It illustrates how to respond to rejection from authority and how best to deal with anger and resentment.

The myth of Oedipus is another story that has sustained relevance and resonance through the ages. And why? It illustrates the enduring conflict between free will and fate. It reminds us that much of what happens to us in life is well beyond our control and serves as a reminder of the inevitability of tragedy.

Even the ethics and morality that guide our civilisation are derived from myths. Stories about actions and consequences and moral responsibility are shaped by myths. Archetypes—universal symbols, patterns, characters, and stories that influence human behaviour, culture, and beliefs and are deeply rooted in our collective subconscious—are also influenced by myths. The story of Jesus, his death and resurrection, is an archetype that not only shows us how the collective can rage against the one who is morally pure or whose existence and actions challenge their moral failings, but it also typifies the hero archetype that can inspire one to embrace suffering for the collective good or even for one’s glory. His death and resurrection assure us of the enduring power of truth to prevail over death.

One should never elevate their religious doctrines and myths over scientific truth and historical facts. And I even consider it morally wrong and epistemic insincerity to explain away the ideological flaws in one’s religion over objective and scientific truth. Yet, I believe that religious myths can provide us with a valuable philosophical framework for navigating the complexities of the human experience. We can use them to answer questions about the existential challenges of life, to find comfort and peace amid suffering, to find hope and faith despite the cosmic devastation and to find our place and purpose in the world.

SOME THOUGHTS ON REBECCA KUANG'S 'YELLOWFACE', REGRET AND PSYCHOPATHY

If you’ve read the 2021 feature story in The New York Times titled “Who Is The Bad Art Friend?”, I recommend reading Rebecca Kuang’s “Yellowface”. Like the real-life story in The New York Times, “Yellowface” explores the relational dynamics between writers: the envy and bitterness that lurk behind friendships, the status signalling, and the lengths writers can go to one-up other, more successful writers. The prose is rich and engaging. I’ve enjoyed it so far.

Aside from that, the novel brings to mind a cognitive contradiction that exists in the human brain. You see, humans have survived so far because of certain neurological configurations. When we lived among animals that preyed on us, we developed specific behaviours to help us survive. For example, our ancestors developed trichromatic vision, the ability to see the colours red, green, and blue, so they could detect predators that used camouflage. The fight-or-flight response is also an evolutionary adaptation for survival.

Evolution doesn’t only help us adapt survival traits against physical harm; we also develop certain cognitive traits to protect us from psychological harm, one of which is the feeling of regret.

The human brain is an intelligent organ that learns and adapts to new knowledge through different circumstances. For example, children learn to avoid fire because the brain uses the pain they felt when they first touched it to teach them to recoil the next time they encounter fire. Similarly, regret works as an adaptive and learning mechanism. It helps us revise our behaviour to avoid repeating dangerous and self-harming actions, thereby increasing our likelihood of survival. In fact, there is such a thing as anticipatory regret, which is the expectation that one might regret a certain action if taken. This causes us to think more carefully before acting. The brain regions responsible for the feeling of regret are the orbitofrontal cortex and anterior cingulate cortex.

But here’s where the cognitive contradiction—or perhaps it’s a counterbalance—kicks in. Regret can be emotionally and psychologically draining. When overwhelming, it can lead to depression and anxiety, reducing our ability to function optimally. To counter this, we’ve developed mechanisms to minimise and reduce regret. We’ve evolved strategies to help us balance regret—enough to learn from it, but not so much as to lead to a maladaptive emotional and psychological state, crippling action, which would be counterproductive for survival. This is why we engage in self-justification and rationalisation.

In “Yellowface”, after stealing her dead friend’s manuscript, the protagonist first justifies her action by claiming the manuscript is too brilliant to die in obscurity, and she intends to work on it and publish it as a tribute to her friend. When she eventually takes complete ownership of the manuscript, she justifies herself by saying that she has, after all, rewritten most of the original, making it as much her work as her friend’s. There are paragraphs of such rationalisations and justifications of blatant theft, including moments where she even paints her friend as a leech to absolve herself of guilt. At some point, it becomes psychopathic. This is a character who hasn’t, for a second, regretted what she did.

This makes me conclude that we are dealing with a psychopath here. What’s more interesting is that not only is she absolving herself of any guilt, but her justifications—written with such flowery prose, for which the author deserves credit—are almost convincing to me as a reader. She’s already succeeded in painting her friend as an artistic leech. And isn’t that how psychopaths operate?

Research has shown that psychopathy is a neurodevelopmental disorder. The character in “Yellowface” might have a damaged or undeveloped orbitofrontal cortex and anterior cingulate cortex. The brain region that helps us process empathy is the amygdala. This part of the brain is often smaller or less active in the brains of psychopaths. Another reason why psychopaths make poor decisions and can’t control their impulses is due to a damaged or non-functioning prefrontal cortex.

If this is the case, it raises the question of how society should deal with individuals who exhibit psychopathic tendencies. Of course, we cannot absolve them of responsibility, as they are fully aware of the wrongness of their actions. They often carry out these actions in ways that are creatively diabolical. Yet, the very nature of their disorder—a condition shaped by neurological dysfunctions—complicates the matter. Should we view them through a lens of criminality alone, or does understanding the root of their behaviour call for a more nuanced approach?

On Game Theory and Love

Love is the eternal mystery that the human mind has been unable to unravel. This is because love stretches beyond the realm of embodied experience. And humans, we make sense of things through our embodied experience. 

But we don’t necessarily need an intellectual grasp of love for us to enjoy it. Love is the magic that happens to us when we’re not searching. It’s the miracle that stuns us into paralysing awe. This is why someone struck by Cupid’s arrow is said to be ‘lovesick’, for love enraptures the totality of being — spirit, soul, and body — if you believe in that tripartite depiction of man. 

To fall in love is simple. It doesn't always need our permission. Sometimes, we’re merely possessed vessels in this mysterious orchestration, led spellbound into its euphoria. What is hard, though, is staying in love. And how to stay in love is what everyone who desires a healthy and long-lasting relationship must know.

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Psychologists explain that love progresses through different phases. There’s the honeymoon phase. This is the phase where emotions are intense and lovers are blinded by infatuation. In this phase, the relationship takes preeminence over other aspects of their lives and their rationality. From a neurological perspective, love, especially in this phase, turns on the neurotransmitter dopamine, which stimulates the brain’s pleasure centres. It also leads to a drop in serotonin, which gives rise to obsession. 

Then comes the next phase, exploration. Many relationships don’t progress beyond this phase because this is where the infatuation gives way to reality; differences and doubts that may jeopardise the relationship arise. The serotonin returns to normal and the feelings of infatuation and obsessions begin to moderate. 

Many people don’t make it beyond this phase because they’re ignorant of this natural progression of relationship, and they conflate the doubts and conflicts that arise during this phase as being out of love. Couples who progress beyond this phase are less likely to break up because they’ve developed the skills and tools to navigate conflicts during this turbulent stage of their relationship. Conflicts become constructive because they lead to an understanding of each other, which opens the room for the next phases of their relationship: adaptation, acceptance, and commitment. 

Well-meaning people have become emotional wrecks because, try as they might, they’ve not been able to form meaningful, lasting relationships. You open your social media pages and everyone says that love is a scam. Yet, people are falling in love, navigating each phase, getting married, and maintaining meaningful and lasting relationships every day. Perhaps there’s something these people know and do, even if they’ve not necessarily learned it as a tool in relationship seminars or a counsellor’s office, that accounts for their successful relationships.

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I love mental models. As someone who’s curious not only about my intrinsic nature but also about the world around me, mental models offer me a framework and analytical tools to make sense of things and to navigate life. 

One mental model that can help us maintain our relationships, even romantic ones, is game theory. 

Yes, love is beyond the mental. As Zach Beach expresses it, ‘Love exists in a different plane, a different realm of reality than the one we are used to. It is in the realm of non-reality that does not follow the laws of physics we are used to and it does not match up to our lived experience of being in a body.’

But despite its non-reality and emotionality, we often find out that to stay in love, we need more than feelings and infatuation because they’re not always stable. I believe that staying in love requires the mental as much as the emotional. And I even dare to say that there is a mental model, divorced from squishy feelings, emotions and even morality, that we can apply to our relationship to make them more lasting. This mental model is called Game Theory. 

Game theory is a mathematical framework used to analyse and understand strategic interactions between rational decision-makers, where the outcome depends on the choices made by each participant and the interdependence of those choices. Put simply, it’s the study of decisions where one person’s decision depends on the decisions of other people — like in the game of chess, where the move of your opponent determines your move. 

One question that one may then ask is, can we apply game theory to complicated human interactions? The answer is yes.

When applied to relationships, game theory postulates that a faithful and lasting relationship is just another form of social cooperation. Ask yourself, why do people stay through different phases of their relationship? Why do people remain faithful in relationships? Is it because of the emotions (we’ve agreed that love isn’t enough); is it ethics and morality (why then do religious people cheat? ); is it because of fear?

The first thing that game theorists find out is that when two people know that their relationship will be short, they are more likely to cheat or bow out at the first sense of conflict. If, however, the two people see no foreseeable end to the relationship, they are less likely to cheat and are more likely to cooperate to make it work. Hence, those grey-haired couples you see together aren’t necessarily more in love with each other than you and your partner, assuming that love is measurable. Rather, they could weather through different phases because they have both decided that this was it.

This is a very important thing to note because a lot of adults enter a relationship without first getting this out of the way. That is, knowing if they’re in for the short or long term. And this is foundational for the social cooperation that leads to lasting relationships — being open about what you want in and from the relationship. 

One must learn to eliminate options in a world where the opportunities to cheat and reasons to not cooperate are readily available. Like the good Book says, your eyes must be single. Cooperation is impossible in a relationship when one or both parties are considering other options.

Hunting the Stag

To bring home the application of game theory to love, let’s consider the Stag Hunt concept. 

Imagine two hunters who have the option to hunt either a stag or a hare. Hunting a stag requires cooperation because it’s a large animal that can only be successfully captured if both hunters work together. However, hunting a hare can be done individually and is a safer, but less rewarding, option.

Here's how the scenario plays out using the game theory concept:

   - There are two players, Player A and Player B

   - Each player has two options: to hunt a stag (cooperate) or to hunt a hare (defect).

   - The payoff for hunting a stag is higher for both players if they cooperate. However, if one player chooses to hunt a stag and the other chooses to hunt a hare, the player hunting the hare gets a higher payoff, while the player hunting the stag gets nothing.

In this hunt, much like in relationships, there’s usually the temptation to defect and hunt a hare — a metaphor for cheating or not cooperating in the relationship. What game theory proposes is that the decisions and actions of others should determine yours. In this context, therefore, being faithful in your relationship or staying to make it work isn’t because you are in love, moral or selfless, but because you desire cooperation. It is about narrow self-interest.

Narrow self-interest isn’t a substitute for fidelity, selflessness, and other forms of altruism that we often associate with love in a relationship. Instead, the idea that I’m proposing is that we are cooperating in service of our interests. A counterintuitive idea to what we think love or relationship should be, but one that works regardless.

This then opens the door for reciprocity. Or what in game theory is called tit-for-tat strategy.

In maintaining a lasting relationship, you have to be committed to being cooperative and sending out the signal to the other party that you are willing to. If, however, after showing your commitment, the other party chooses to hunt the hare, you reciprocate by defecting as well. 

This may seem to go against the notion of forgiveness, which is important for a relationship to work. But when dating is seen as a game, which evolutionary biology tells us it is, we have to let the other party know that we’re willing to reciprocate both non-cooperation and cooperation.

This strategy works even better in repetitive and long-term situations like dating because cooperation becomes more advantageous over time. People learn that defecting initially may lead to retaliation and lower long-term gains. Strategies like tit-for-tat, where players cooperate initially and retaliate if the other player defects promote cooperation effectively. The prospect of future interactions incentivises cooperation by maximising long-term rewards, even though there may be short-term temptations to hunt the hare. Robert Axelrod calls this ‘the shadow of the future’. 

It isn’t a Zero-sum Game

While dating is a game, it isn’t a zero-sum game. It’s not about winners and losers. The idea that cooperation in a relationship is about narrow self-interest doesn’t suggest that we should be narcissistic, hold back in love or that we shouldn’t care at all about our partner. It instead suggests that we should commit because it serves our self-interests. The long-term, cumulative gain of commitment outweighs the fleeting pleasure of defecting. Your commitment is an investment into the relationship, and the return on your investment is the reciprocity of your partner, companionship, and love. A win-win situation for both, if they’re good players as well.

In this application, game theory serves as a rational guide against bad players. When you think about dating in terms of social cooperation between you and your partner, you set expectations. And if these expectations aren’t met, you’re able to reexamine the relationship. This helps you navigate the conflicting duality of what your heart wants and what your mind knows is right. The emphasis is separating the conflicting interests of the heart and mind. While love isn’t a finite resource — you don’t run out of love because you exhausted your love on your partner; rather, the more love you give, the more you have to give. Your time and commitment aren’t finite resources. Game theory helps you recognize bad players and uncooperative partners early on.

What the application of game theory — cooperation, mutual interests, pay-off, reciprocity — offers us is a framework with which we can maintain relationships outside of the usual constricts of romance and even morality. After all, all these have failed repeatedly. Good people cheat on their partners. People who are in love break up when the infatuation fades as their relationship progresses through different phases because they can’t think of commitment and cooperation outside the confines of romance. Game theory asks you to commit and cooperate in service of mutual self-interests instead.

When infatuations wanes, what you stand to gain in cooperating might keep you. Being aware of retribution and understanding the folly in picking short-term gratification instead of the compounding merit that cooperation assures, might also prove a more effective tool for maintaining committed relationships than the reliance on feelings.

For River Girl

like the daughter of Osun yearns for the soft song of the river at noon,

i yearn for you  

mountains and seas away from you, i'm a planet that's lost its trail

a jazz player away from his piano,

your body, the stretch of miracle my hands crave to touch 

on facetime, i drown in the sweetness of your voice

your image on the screen is like Osun showing up on the Yèyé's bowl. a wonder 

we bury the distance as Ain’t No Sunshine plays in the background

and when sleep descends on the lids of our eyes, we play pretend

i'm in your bed in Igbokoda

we're tangled like Opẹlẹ beads on the tray of divination,

doing things lovers do on silent nights

On Nollywood and Mad Men

I came across a Facebook user’s post yesterday where he asked people what the best series and movies they watched this year are. Almost all the series and movies mentioned are from Hollywood. This got me thinking. There’s been a great improvement in Nollywood’s cinematography in recent times, but something key still seems to be missing. This key thing is why Nollywood has yet to capture the Nigerian audience.

Except for a few outliers, how many Nollywood movies/series can make for a good discussion about character study, motifs, and themes? Many filmmakers argue that Nigerians only enjoy comical movies, but the rise of Layi Wasabi proves that Nigerians want more than just laughter.

There used to be a time when our favourite artists and songs were American, but the music industry turned this around. Talents eclipsed with quality of production and now we have the whole world dancing to Afrobeats. Nigerians might want to laugh, but they want something deeper.

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I’m rewatching ‘Mad Men.’ There’s this episode in season 2 titled ‘Maidenform’. In this episode, Sterling Cooper is running a campaign for Playtex, a lingerie brand. The creatives, all men, came up with an idea, ‘two sides of a woman’. The idea typifies women into either a Marilyn Monroe or a Jackie Kennedy — a simplistic, glib perception of women through the male gaze. Think of the contrast between Michelle Obama and, say, Tiwa Savage, and you’ll understand what they’re implying.

The only woman on the team, Peggy Olsen, who had been excluded from the brainstorming session at a boys’ night out, objects to this. Not all women see themselves as Marilyn or Jackie, she says. The guys disagree. One even quips that lingerie is for men. She asks the guys which woman they think she is, Marilyn or Jackie. Peggy could only be compared to Gertrude Stein, a writer. Still, they proceed with this idea.

So, keep this idea of duality and perception in mind as I tell you about another character in the series, Don Draper.

Don is a self-made man. He has a beautiful wife, dominates other men with his creativity in the boardroom and menacingly removes their hats inside lifts. He appears confident and does all he can to portray himself as a responsible family man. But Don is also an army deserter. He’s taken his dead captain’s identity. His real name is Dick Whitman. He’s a liar. And worse, an adulterer.

In every scene, you see his struggle between two selves: one that promoted Peggy Olsen to junior copywriter, a big deal for a woman in the 1960s; and another Don who prefers that his wife remains a housewife.

At a party, army veterans are asked to stand for recognition. Don does, but in that moment you see his shoulders drop. His daughter looks up admiringly, applauding her hero father. But he knows it’s a lie.

He runs out of the party into the arms of Bobbie, another woman.

At the hotel, he tells Bobbie not to speak as he touches her. But she talks anyway, letting it slip that all the professional women he’s slept with talk about him. This unsettles him. He’s been unravelled. And worse, he’s been pigeonholed by women the same way he and other men typecast women. He’s a public dick.

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By now, the theme has become clear — perception, image, and duality. Who we are to others versus who we are inside. How others see us and how we see ourselves through the eyes of people.

Like most Hollywood series, the beauty of this series is how well it’s written: round characters with rich backstories and clear motivations; period-accurate settings, including clothes, reference to arts, news, and conventions of the period; the brilliant acting … you mention it. Each episode has themes and motifs, and you can see how well the script and character interpretation bring them alive. They draw you into their world and you forget that it’s acting. You can psychoanalyse characters like Don Draper, Tommy Shelby and Walter White and develop different theories and interpretations.

You can hardly do this with Nollywood movies. In a recent release, there’s a flat TV in a movie set in the 1960s. And the performance of the actors keeps reminding you that they’re acting. The storylines not only need you to suspend disbelief, but you also have to suspend intelligence as well.

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In the last scene of ‘Maidenform’, Don’s daughter enters the bathroom as he shaves. “I won’t talk, so you won’t cut yourself,” she says. Those innocent words from his daughter rattle him. They remind him of Bonnie at the hotel; if he’s forgotten or trying to deny it, they remind him what a piece of garbage he is — a sentiment Bonnie’s husband would eventually spit at his face in the next episode.

The scene fades. The camera pans out and we see Don crestfallen on the toilet seat. A split appears as he looks at himself in the door mirror: two different selves — the hero in the eyes of his daughter and the army deserter. The brilliance of the directing is matched with the moving expression of the actor. Show, don’t tell in practice.

Yes, Nollywood has a funding problem. But the reason we’re yet to make series and films that are not just entertaining but intellectually stimulating, series that get the tiny details right, isn’t funding.