On Learning, Forgetting, and Vibes
On Learning and Mostly Forgetting
Friends of mine know that I am a frequent listener of the EconTalk podcast with Russ Roberts. Last week, on an evening walk, I listened to an episode featuring psychologist Adam Mastronianni titled “On Learning and Mostly Forgetting”. In broad strokes, the episode addresses the idea that most factual knowledge learned is eventually forgotten if not routinely recalled. This is especially true where such knowledge is obtained in an educational setting. What is more likely to endure, however, is what Adam refers to as vibes: information tied to a combination of “emotions, aesthetics, meaning, and values”. To borrow an excerpt from the episode:
“So far, I've used the word "feelings" to describe these indelible, ineffable memories. That implies that these memories are all about emotions, and no doubt emotions are part of them. But there's even more than that. It's hard to describe, but: the transition of winter into spring, seeing the Statue of Liberty in person for the first time, the phase shift that happens when you enter a dance party, the last day of camp, being at a wedding that probably shouldn't happen--I'm sure these all evoke images and emotions, but there's something underneath it all, binding it all together. That's what I mean by a feeling. A combination of emotions, aesthetics, meaning, and values. And when you layer feelings on top of each other, you get a vibe. (It's a silly word, but it's the only one that fits.)”
- Adam Mastroianni
Without these vibes, most that is intended to be retained is lost. The episode anecdotally references a finding that for the purposes of a multiple choice exam, students who graduated from a class months/years prior typically do not fare better than students who never took such course(s) at all. It’s a striking find. For the sake of fairness, it’s reasonable to assume that certain caveats apply here - I am likely to fare far worse on a multiple choice exam concerning principles of organic chemistry, for example, than someone who has otherwise studied chemistry in great depth.
Specific acedotes aside, the point is that facts are largely lost but vibes largely remain. It’s why Russ, as he notes in the podcast, hardly recalls the lessons imparted by his father but vividly recalls the vibes that surrounded such lessons. He remembers that his father was very much a teacher who loved to share knowledge and guidance - and by offering such teachings, he showed that he cared.
My Own Formal Education and Reflecting on Vibes
Recalling my own education, there are many moments that I vividly remember, but seldomly are those moments tied to comprehensive pedagogy. Instead, those memories are woven within the fabric of vibes. In highschool, I remember my biology teacher playing Bloc Party’s Silent Alarm during an assignment. I don’t recall the specific subject matter of the assignment, but I clearly recall the setting and music. I remember the time a classmate tried to get my attention during an economics exam in hopes that I would share the answers. I do not recall the subject being tested that day, but I do remember taking the exam in the library (which was atypical), and I also remember deliberately providing incorrect answers (sorry, Steven).
I remember the unwavering support of certain of my teachers, especially “Marian”, without whom I would not have had the confidence to pursue higher education and creative projects.
In CEGEP, I vividly recall the nights spent writing essays until sunrise. Except for a few specific topics, I couldn’t tell you what they were about, though. Exhausted from study sessions that extended into the morning, I remember the naps in my car between classes - though I could not tell you which classes I was making efforts to reconcile sleep debts for. I remember the songs played and the company shared in my car during my daily commutes, but the specific conversations are mostly lost. I do remember the lyrics being bellowed on the highway as Wolf Parade played on the car stereo, but I don’t remember which class I was driving home from. I remember the sense of fulfillment and excitement that came with enrolling in courses at my own volition, but I could probably only name you a handful of such courses today.
For all the things I do remember from my time at CEGEP over a decade ago, I remember how they made me feel. I remember the vibes. I remember one professor in particular, “Robert”, who inspired me to cultivate a lifelong appreciation for the classics, even despite my failure to recall exactly which ones.
Undergrad was similar. There aren’t that many distinct courses, let alone assignments, that I distinctly remember - although I do recall many of the primary texts.
There is one class in particular that has a tie to a strong vibe-woven memory. I had enrolled in a course titled Early Modern Political Theory, and the professor held a reputation for being difficult and demanding. Our first assignment for the course was to read Thomas Hobbes’ Leviathan and to produce an essay that would critically examine his appeal to authority as an alternative to what he described as the state of nature, wherein life could be described as “nasty, brutish, and short” as a result of resource scarcity (among other facets).
The only reason I remember the assignment so well is - you guessed it - the vibes surrounding it. I recall the essay being due immediately after a cottage weekend retreat I had committed to with friends. I recall spending most of the weekend in the basement of the cottage reading the primary text together with John Locke’s Second Treatise of Government (for which I intended to consider as part of a comparative analysis), and John Rawls’ Lectures on the History of Political Philosophy). Although I would have much rather spent time with my friends, excelling in my studies was non-negotiable for the purposes of eventually landing a spot in law school. I did not want such aspirations to get quashed by a professor with notoriously exacting demands.
When I was on exchange in Paris, I hardly remember the specifics of the courses I took, but I clearly remember studying at a local Moroccan cafe where I would drink thé à la menthe late into the night.
For the purposes of this blog I am going to gloss over law school: given my current practice, it is obvious that I developed a photographic memory immediately upon the completion my undergraduate degree, and not a moment spent studying the common and civil legal traditions was lost on me.
If We Forget So Much, What’s the Point?
The EconTalk episode addresses an obvious question: if we forget so much, what’s the point of pursuing formal education? Some proponents suggest that such institutions teach students a far more important lesson, how to learn/think. But the claim is a dubious one, as it would imply some form of active coordination or intention to achieve such purpose. To quote Adam once again:
“Liberal Arts universities will tell you that what you are doing there is learning how to learn. Which sounds good. But then, I don't think there's actually a strong theory about how the learning-how-to-learn happens. That there's this trust that: Yeah, you take a philosophy class and you take a math class and you take a biology class, and the emergent property of taking all those classes is you learn how to learn.
But, none of those individuals I think are on mission for teaching people how to learn. They're there to teach people biology--like, that's what's on the syllabus.
I think, in fact, the incentives are structured such that you often learn the opposite. What you learn is how to get good grades in these classes, because that's what you're assessed on. So why would you learn anything else? That's the way that you make yourself legible to the university--and to people afterward who are looking at your transcript.”
- Adam Mastroianni
Although I can confidently say that this was not generally my experience in law school - due in part to the faculty’s curation of a “transsystemic” program - it is definitely representative of how most institutions structure their curriculum, where students waft between asymmetrically organized courses with little (if any) connection between them beyond their course code prefixes.
So what’s the point then? As an advocate for formal education and accessibility to it, and reflecting on my own experiences, I think we can come to its defense in two ways: first, there can be more “stickiness” if done correctly. Second, forgetting some of the foundational stuff is OK if it retained long enough to get to the more complicated stuff. Third, there’s more to the process than the content being studied.
On the stickiness of it: if we can establish that knowledge is better retained when tied to vibes then there is real opportunity to reform the educational process in a manner that better enables the storage of information. This is a tenable position given that we know, empirically, that information transmitted through story and song is much better retained, for example. I am not suggesting that a lecture on stoichiometry or constitutional law should necessarily be presented through interpretive dance and choir, but I am suggesting that educators should at least consider such evidence when structuring a syllabus.
On the foundational merits: able-bodied children need to learn how to crawl before they can learn to walk, and although adults don’t typically crawl all that often, most adults typically walk. I might not remember the varied opinions of the House of Lords in Donoghue v Stevenson, but I distinctly recall the story of the snail and the ginger beer, and I recall the crux of what that case stood for and the duty of care. I had to learn the foundational principles of the tort of negligence before I could understand its relevance for more complex legal matters concerning harm to unforeseen third parties.
There is relevance to learning the foundational basics as a means to learn the more complicated stuff. For many professional activities requiring a degree of specialized knowledge and technical ability, whether it be welding, plumbing, personal training, or negotiating indemnities, it might be OK to forego recollection of foundational principles if it means you retain the more relevant and more immediately-learned details. Without the former you just can’t get to the latter. There are obvious qualifiers that are needed here, but I think the point stands.
On the process: we might forget many of the facts, but there is much to be gained from any undertaking that requires consistent effort for the sake of personal and intellectual growth. It might be the discipline developed throughout the pedagogical process. It might be the lesson that if you embrace the suck of what it feels like to be initially abysmal at something, you can later appreciate that rewards can be found if you persevere through the difficulty. Of course, these things are not exclusive to formal education, but they are relevant nevertheless.
OK So What?
If we accept that vibes persist longer than communicated pieces of information, we should spend real time thinking about how our communications are conveyed, because the delivery is just as (if not more) important than the content itself. I might not remember what was specifically negotiated with a counterparty’s counsel years ago, but I will certainly recall their professionalism and attention to detail (or lack thereof).
I might not remember what Marian or Robert taught on specific mornings or afternoons for courses whose titles I cannot recall, but I do know that I felt as though the universe lost two shining stars when they each passed away in recent years.
The specifics of their syllabuses are lost on me, but the vibes are very much still there, and they’re there to stay.
