Vilfredo Pareto’s Sociology
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Pareto seems to have little more to say concerning the nature of creativity. Hence
the remainder of this section will simply assume that he included individual variance
in something like ‘general creativity’ within his psychological model, and it will
dig deeper for theory and research which helps us evaluate whether he was right
to incorporate it within his psychological model as he did. A pattern will emerge.
High levels of general creativity will be linked to some combination of psychoticism,
Machiavellianism, psychopathy and negativism; low levels of creativity will be linked
to compulsive personality. Hence Pareto’s assumptions concerning how general
creativity tends to correlate with other traits will be shown to be quite sound.
A good way to begin is to run with Pareto’s view of creativity as a process of
mental association and look at some of its implications. Arthur Koestler’s
theory of
the creative process of ‘bissociation’ is helpful here because it provides a useful tool
for exploring the basic process which Pareto seems to have had in mind. It will soon
emerge that this simple, traditional approach to understanding creativity lends itself
to a particular understanding of individual variance in levels of creative ability.
Koestler describes the process of mental association (or ‘bissociation’ as he terms
it) as follows. Each instance of bissociation involves a ‘sudden collision of two
unrelated association trains at a given point’ (Koestler 1949, 36). These association
trains are previously unrelated in the sense that they carry information which
has originated from ‘habitually incompatible’, ‘self consistent’ and ‘structurally
homogeneous’ contexts which he terms ‘operative fields’. What he means is that
they have originated from clusters of mental associations enmeshed within different
parts of the brain which have each developed to permit
individuals to interact with
separate aspects of their environments. Koestler adds that once ‘junctional concepts’
come into being as these association trains collide, there occurs a kind of ‘short
circuiting’ effect whereby operative fields begin to coalesce into ‘continuous flows’
(a reference to William James’ ‘stream of consciousness’ metaphor). In short, then,
Koestler’s image of the creative process can be understood to have taken a small but
important step beyond Pareto. Whilst Pareto only implied as much when discussing
the making of ‘new combinations’, Koestler explicitly viewed separate thought
habits as constituting stocks of metaphors which may be called upon to allow the
world to be modelled more effectively. This theory of creativity as a process hinging
upon a clever use of metaphor has retained plausibility over the years. It is notably
consistent with contemporary ‘modularity’ theories in evolutionary psychology which
explain individual differences in creativity in terms of complexity
of interconnection
between relatively autonomous neural ‘modules’ or ‘subsystems’ which have each
evolved to address separate adaptive problems.
5
Indeed, this helps explain why the
maintenance of a good range of hobbies and pastimes should very commonly be
counted as an indicator of creative ability.
5 Gardner’s (1985) theory of ‘multiple intelligence’, for example, identifies modules
which separately control linguistic, musical, logical-mathematical, spatial, bodily-kinesthetic,
and interpersonal domains of information processing which may be so understood. Some
research (e.g. Abelson 1997, 29–32) has strongly related poor communication between neural
subsystems
such as these to prejudice, thereby helping to add further detailed understanding
to the common research finding that human intelligence and creativity are negatively related
to prejudice, as indeed Pareto’s psychological model suggests.
Pareto’s Psychology
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Affective thinking and emotional inhibition, to return to Koestler’s theory, are
important in determining what stores of ‘operative fields’ are and are not available
to consciousness at any given time (Koestler 1949, 47–48). Where inhibitions are
weak, or during (day)dreams when they disengage, Koestler argues,
consciousness
flows more widely and freely between operative fields to allow fresh bissociative
concepts to form (Koestler 1949, 49). This might be taken, in part at least, as a
reference to Francis Galton’s earlier idea that when inhibiting influences are removed,
individuals may retrieve ‘irrational’ ideas from the unconscious mind and use them
to aid conscious thought. One common example of this is the chemist Kelkulé’s
discovery of the ring structure of organic molecules following his dream of a snake
swallowing its tail (e.g. Storr 1988, 67).
One wonders, therefore, whether individual differences in levels of access to
the contents of the unconscious might explain a fair amount of individual variance
in creative ability. Some reputable opinion suggests
that this is indeed a fair
generalisation. Anthony Storr agrees with Donald MacKinnon that ‘the more creative
a person is, the more he reveals an openness to his own feelings and emotions, a
sensitive intellect and understanding self-awareness’ (Storr 1991, 241), and of course,
it has already been stated that for Storr lack of creative ability will often relate to
neuroses which prevent compulsives from accessing their inner worlds. Wilhelm
Reich (e.g. 1969) would certainly agree. His description of compulsives stresses the
peculiarly heavy reliance which they place upon the repression strategies of ‘affect-
block’ and ‘cathetic diversion’ by which they stave off the anxiety arousing contents
of their unconscious minds. He claims that this limitation makes compulsives ‘ill-
suited to creative work or work which depends on new ideas’. Moreover, he explains
that this is why ‘one will rarely find compulsive characters among great statesmen’
(Reich 1969, 194), a view which reflects Pareto’s belief that
the class II residues are
always uncommon amongst the higher echelons of governing elites.
It would doubtless be a productive exercise to examine all of the various defences
which compulsives may employ in order to block out the contents of their unconscious
minds, in order to show how each of these might simultaneously inhibit creative
thinking. Generally speaking, this list would have to take account of a broad range
of factors: the emotional numbness which may often prohibit a conscious integration
of thoughts and feelings, the preference for fixed thought habits and delusional
ideational systems, difficulties in accessing dreams, and
also the compulsive fear of
the unfamiliar which is to be explained more fully in section 4.5. Section 4.5 will
also explain that compulsives tend to suffer from low self-esteem, which may inhibit
creative productivity.
Although this section cannot undertake this task of exploring the relationship
between compulsivity and low creativity with any thoroughness, what it can usefully
achieve is an examination of various general contrasts which have been drawn by
psychologists concerning individuals who are either good or bad at ‘free-associating’,
‘fantasising’ and ‘recalling their dreams’, which correspond surprisingly well with
what Pareto’s model of personality assumes about the general correlates of creative
ability. A brief exploration of these contrasts will lead us to a much more detailed
understanding of what the heightened general creativity of Pareto’s ‘fox’ and
‘speculator’ types means in precise psychological terms.