Experiences of Solitude: Issues of Assessment, Theory, and Culture James R. Averill and Louise Sundararajan University of Massachusetts, Amherst Forensic Unit, Rochester Psychiatric Center Running head: Assessment, Theory, Culture 2 Abstract This chapter is divided into three parts of increasing generality. First, we present a set of descriptors that might serve as the bases for rating everyday experiences of solitude. Second, based on factor analytic studies of these descriptors as well as a broader review of the literature, we propose a model of the cognitive structure of solitude experiences. Third, we explore the mutual influences of solitude and culture. From this three-fold analysis, a number of themes emerge: Most fundamentally, solitude is more a matter of the mind than of physical or social locale. Put differently, solitude is the mental counterpart of habitat selection in infrahuman animals. Authentic solitude is also profoundly relational. The non-relational features triggered by the biological reaction to social isolation, when they predominate, constitute what we call pseudo-solitude. A capacity for authentic solitude entails emotional and cognitive skills that can be acquired through training. With such skills, solitude can even be experienced vicariously, for example, though art and poetry. In turn, solitude contributes to the advancement of genuine culture, as opposed to the mere adherence to social conventions. 3 Experiences of Solitude: Issues of Assessment, Theory, and Culture James R. Averil and Louise Sundararajan University of Massachusetts, Amherst Forensic Unit, Rochester Psychiatric Center Solitude is not something that happens, it is a place where different types of experiences may occur—any of a variety of thoughts, feelings, and actions, both positive and negative. In this chapter, we (a) describe a set of rating scales for the assessment of solitude experiences; (b) present a theoretical model for interpreting such experiences; and (c) explore some of the benefits of solitude, not simply for individuals, but for the cultures in which individuals live. For supporting evidence, we draw on both American and Chinese sources. To begin, let us take note of a certain prejudice against solitude. Robert Kull (2008) cites authorities, ancient and modern, who have condemned solitude as both self-indulgent and irresponsible. The following observation by the eighteenth-century philosopher David Hume illustrates this point of view: Celibacy, fasting, penance, mortification, self-denial, humility, silence, solitude, and the whole train of monkish virtues; for what reason are they everywhere rejected by men of sense, but because they serve no manner or purpose; neither 4 advance a man’s fortune in the world, nor render him a more valuable member of society, neither qualify him for the entertainment of company, nor increase his power of self-enjoyment? We observe, on the contrary, that they cross all these desirable ends; stupefy the understanding and harden the heart, obscure the fancy and sour the temper (quoted by Kull, 2008, p. 207). Today, many such “monkish virtues” would rightly be rejected, but not all are associated with what we call authentic solitude. Episodes that fit Hume’s description, might better be termed pseudo-solitude. Authentic solitude is exemplified by the following description by Edward Abbey (1968) who, as a young man, worked for two summers as a seasonal park ranger at Arches National Monument in Southeast Utah, U.S.A. This is desert country and at the time he worked there, the site was relatively undeveloped: there were no paved access roads and few amenities on arrival; hence, few tourists. Abbey was alone much of the time. Near the beginning of his stay, he experienced moments when, as he put it, I would sit down at the table for supper inside the housetrailer and discover with a sudden shock that I was alone. There was nobody, nobody at all, on the other side of the table. Aloneness became loneliness, and the sensation was strong enough to remind me (how could I have forgotten?) that the one thing better than solitude, the only thing better than solitude, is society (p. 96-97) 5 To alleviate his loneliness at dinner time, Abbey would take his meal outside by a fireplace he had constructed. There, by a burning juniper, with more desert and mountains than I could explore in a lifetime open to view, I was invited to contemplate a far larger world, one which extends into a past and into a future without any limits known to the human kind. By taking off my shoes and digging my toes in the sand I made contact with that larger world — an exhilarating feeling which leads to equanimity (p. 97) These short passages illustrate some of the points we will expand on during the course of this chapter: (a) Our primary focus is on potential benefits of solitude, as opposed to loneliness. What tips the balance between positive experiences of solitude and immoderate loneliness? This question can be answered in one word: Choice. What we call authentic solitude is typically based on a decision to be alone; in contrast, pseudo solitude, in which loneliness predominates, involves a sense of abandonment or unwanted isolation. (b) The centrality of choice to authentic solitude poses a counter-intuitive problem, for it seems to go against deeply seated social needs. Social living is one of the major biological adaptations of the human species. During hominin evolution, spanning roughly six million years, the solitary individual would not have survived for long. Natural selection has therefore provided us with an inborn aversion to being alone — the experience of loneliness. 6 (c) Why, then, would any normal human being choose to be alone? Before addressing this question in detail, we take note of some misleading answers, most of which are spawned by a false dichotomy between the self and community. This dichotomy posits that the self cannot be relational without community; from this perspective individuals who choose to be alone might be considered perverted, since they have no need for social relations, or if not perverted, then doomed to perpetual loneliness, since their intimacy needs can never be satisfied in solitude. (d) The counter answer we propose is that the self is relational to its core (Gergen, 2009). Empirical support for this claim comes from many sources, including loneliness studies. For example, Epley and colleagues found that lonely participants, in comparison to non-lonely ones, gave higher anthropomorphic ratings of nonhuman objects, such as gadgets (Epley, Akalis, Waytz, & Cacioppo, 2008) . Under the spell of the false dichotomy between self and community, anthropomorphizing such as this may be interpreted as an illusion: “Many isolated people, unable to reach out to others, reach out instead to objects [filling] the void of human connection with inanimate ones” (Jaffe, 2008, p. 16). Jaffe’s observation may be correct, but the implication that anthropomorphism is always a false or inappropriate way of relating to the world deserves close consideration. (For a more positive interpretation of anthropomorphism, see Sundararajan, 2009.) To truly understand solitude, we need to start with an open mind and examine afresh the possibilities for intimacy while alone. (e) Starting with a clean slate, we reiterate the point that society is only one type of construction that humans make to serve their needs as relational beings; other types of constructions include virtual communities with God, Nature – and even, on occasion, with inanimate objects. This perspective allows us to appreciate how some individuals leave society 7 for another community in a manner analogous to the habitat selection and niche construction of lower animals. From this perspective, immoderate loneliness may be understood as the distress associated with loss of habitat as a result of involuntary removal from society in lieu of which another niche – what (Clark, 2008) has called a “designer environment” -- is not found or constructed. (f) By focusing on the cognitive structure associated with designer environments for authentic solitude, our investigation has practical implications: It suggests the possibility of teaching relevant skills to those who are subjected to involuntary loss of social connections, thus alleviating some of the pangs of loneliness; and, conversely, teaching others who are too immersed in the marketplace, how to experience solitude vicariously, thus achieving some of the benefits of being alone without actually separating themselves from others. Stories We Tell Ourselves About Being Alone “Choice” is not something that suddenly occurs within the mind or brain of a person. Choices have histories, they involve a self who chooses, they are sensitive to circumstances, and they lead to consequences. In short, behind every choice is a story. Stories of solitude are not written afresh each time a person is alone. More important than individual concerns are the stories that cultures provide regarding the meaning and significance of solitude. A member of a monastic community—Thomas Merton (1958), say—has a very different story to tell when alone, than does an 18 year old with no place to go on a Saturday night. A particularly common story today is of an elderly widow or widower living alone, without the financial resources or physical capacity to engage in meaningful social activities. Unfortunately, the story is often true. Few people have the human resources to say, as Einstein 8 did, “I live in that solitude which is painful in youth, but delicious in the years of maturity” (in Sneider, 1936, p. 27). When he wrote that, Einstein was still in his mid-50s. But the sentiment is true of many people of more advanced age, who also find solitude delicious (Wood, 1988). Winnicott (1958) suggested that individual differences in ability to be alone originate in infancy. Specifically, he posited that only those people who as infants were free to explore and independently occupy themselves in the security of their mothers' presence, will as adults have the capacity to be alone.