Awkward or Orchid

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A fascinating article in the New Scientist puts forward the theory of ‘Orchid’ genes. The theory – and a variety of evidence – suggests 5-7 relatively recent gene variants (recent in evolutionary terms at least) work cumulatively and in combination to make people more or less ‘plastic’, responsive and sensitive to their upbringing and environment.

Once branded as ‘bad genes’ they now appear to be ‘adaptive’ genes. So, put ‘Orchid’ children in a good environment and they thrive. In a bad one and they develop anti-social behaviours.

As adults, ‘Orchids’ have the behavioural range to bring sensitivity and finesse to a positive context. But they are more volatile in a bad one. The other extreme from Orchids – Dandelions – cope fine with most situations.

Here’s a heavily abridged version of David Dobbs’ article. Fascinating stuff. I reckon I might be a lucky Orchid – lucky to have been carefully nurtured with a very caring and supportive upbringing.

But I also recognise that if you put me in a bad context – my secondary school to some extent, and working in UK Government to a very large extent – my leaves wilt and the ‘flower’ at my heart turns dark.

At times a bit more ‘Dandelion’ in my genes might have made me a happier camper, but we are who we are:

The genes that help create some of our most grievous frailties – anxiety and aggression, melancholia and murder – may also underlie our greatest strengths, from the sharing of meals to our spread around the globe.

Back in 1995, W. Thomas Boyce, a child development specialist then at the University of California, Berkeley, had been trying to understand why some children seemed to react more to their environment in measures ranging from heartbeat and blood pressure to levels of cortisol, a hormone related to stress.

Boyce was soon joined in this line of inquiry by Bruce Ellis at the University of Arizona in Tucson. Together they speculated that this reactivity also affects mood and behaviour.

Drawing on Swedish terms, they distinguished between “dandelion children”, who did about the same whatever their environment, and “orchid children”, who wilted under poor care but flourished if carefully tended (Development and Psychopathology, vol 17, p 271).

Many vulnerability-gene studies seemed to show that the so-called ‘bad’ variants of SERT, DRD4, and MAOA generated extra resilience and other assets in people with fortunate early years. Yet the literature largely ignored this upside: in paper after paper, the raw data and graphs indicated the positive effects, but the text failed to explore or even note them.

Others began publishing new studies and re-analyses of old ones showing that the so-called ‘vulnerability’ genes created not just risk but bidirectional sensitivity.

“These genes aren’t about risk,” says Jay Belsky, a psychologist at the University of California, Davis, who helped establish what is being called the plasticity gene hypothesis. “It is responsiveness – for better or worse.”

Belsky is doing bigger studies that gauge the cumulative effects of several plasticity genes. In 2010, he published an analysis drawn from a 12-year study of 1586 adolescents. He analysed five genes (SERT, MAOA, DRD4, and two other genes that regulate dopamine) and collected data on the teens’ behaviour and self-control, and on the mothers’ engagement in their lives.

The boys with no or only one plasticity variant proved to be dandelions: they fared about the same regardless of how engaged their mothers were. Those with two to five plasticity variants, however, responded like orchids, and the more they had, the more sensitive they were.

The orchid hypothesis also meshes with observations of adults in psychotherapy. Since 1997, Californian psychiatrists Elaine and Arthur Aron have written about what they call “highly sensitive persons”, or HSPs, who are especially responsive not just to trouble but to many of life’s pleasures and subtleties. As Elaine Aron sees it, this group, comprising an estimated 15 to 20 per cent of the population, perceive life at a finer, more nuanced scale.

As the plasticity theory has gained ground, the Arons and others have wondered if HSPs are essentially orchid children grown up. They argue that HSPs share with the orchid children a particularly reactive physiological and sensory response to the world.

Many of the orchid-theory supporters argue that even with its drawbacks, sensitivity is more often than not adaptive – and therefore selected for. This idea has gained credence by the discovery over the last decade that many of the plasticity genes have spread rapidly through humankind over the last 50,000 years.

Of the leading orchid-gene variants – the short SERT, the 7R DRD4 and the more plastic version of MAOA – none existed in humans 80,000 years ago. Since emerging, these variants have spread into 20 to 50 per cent of the population. “That’s not random drift,” says John Hawks, an evolutionary anthropologist at the University of Wisconsin-Madison. “They’re being selected for.”

Orchid genes could provide an advantage in several ways. To start with, they seem to create better mental health and greater resilience in people with secure, stimulating childhoods. The “problem” traits they can generate, such as anxiety, aggression or ADHD, could help survival in conflict-ridden or volatile environments. Plasticity genes also boost resilience at the group level by creating a mix of steady do-ers (dandelions) and individuals with greater behavioural range (orchids).

Some evolutionary anthropologists argue that these traits, particularly the restlessness and risk-taking found in many carriers of the 7R DRD4, may have helped drive human expansion.

The set of genes that help create our most grievous frailties may also underlie our greatest strengths – and sometimes the choice is settled in childhood.

http://daviddobbs.net/

Concerted Cultivation

20120204-193837.jpgIt transpires – from considerable research in the USA – that middle class parents’ relentless intervention in their children’s lives: through music lessons, cultural experiences, ferrying them hither and yon and pandering to their every whim, creates a strong ‘sense of entitlement’.

This much we know. But what is less obvious, when you’re getting some lip, is this fits them better for success in institutional settings – from school to the workplace.

So called ‘Concerted Cultivation‘ – aka the pandering, worrying, nurturing and relentless attempts to nurture ‘talent’, ‘gift’, ‘achievement’ and ‘aptitude’ in middle class children – makes them more than just a pain in their parents’ ass. It makes them a pain in everyone’s ass. And this is vital for success in school, university and work. Suitable stamping of feet gets you noticed.

Working class families use a different approach – equally well adapted and just as caring – but different in impact and outcome. Working families apparently favour the so called ‘natural growth‘ route. This encourages independent development, standing on your own two feet, fledging from the nest – and doing what you’re told.

This works well in getting kids into life and into work, but does less well in ensuring that institutions – schools notably, but also workplaces and other institutions – pay attention to them as individuals. This can increase the sense of alienation of working class kids from such institutions, which further exacerbates the effect and further favours the ‘Concertedly Cultivated’.

One very telling example of the difference is making – or not – strong eye contact. ‘Concerted Cultivation’ promotes it, ‘natural growth’ discourages it. If you’re wanting to get your way in public and private institutions, strong eye contact is a mark of confidence. If you’re walking the street in less affluent parts of town it looks dangerously like disrespect. And to a foreman or staff sergeant being looked squarely in the eye suggests confrontation or insubordination

‘Concerted Cultivation’ is much more resource intensive, and less ‘natural’. But, according to the American research, it does fits kids with the tools to be taken seriously by adults and institutions.

I would say my childhood was 50% ‘Concerted Cultivation’ and 50% ‘natural growth’. That would fit with my half and half social class as a child. It worked for me. But we’re ‘Concerted Cultivators’ now in our middle class milieu.

A whiff of science helps me keep up my enthusiasm for ferrying them to activities, downloading maths apps, humouring hissy fits and constantly keeping them busy. I have a pang of guilt at the advantage I’m giving them, but it’s concerted cultivation for my little flowers.

Never Mind the B%llocks

20120128-190635.jpgI found myself swearing a lot this week – a sure sign I’ve been depleting my modest ego. Self-control carries a cognitive cost: the more you soak up the more you get p155ed off.

There were good bits, but also plenty of b%llocks. According to the Broadcasting Standards Commission the relative severity of the various profanities, as perceived by the British public in 2000, placed “b%llocks” in eighth position in terms of its perceived severity, between “pr1ck” (seventh) and “ar5ehole” (ninth). Enough said.

A lot of angst in life comes from the need to be in control. People seek position and status in the hope of controlling more – and controlling others more. But the definition of larger roles is in fact that you control less: you directly do less, precisely determine less and very often control less of your immediate environment or your time.

As someone said to me of a senior absentee a few months back: “Well he’s obviously at the level where he can’t control his own time”. Wherever you work, whatever level, there is always someone who can jerk your strings.

But as I said to a colleague, and later the missus, if a meteor hit London we’d be scrapping for tinned food not worrying about being jostled at work. The Stoics knew this in Ancient Rome. If a senator could be ‘offed’ for offending a fickle Emperor, what refuge is there in status, money or power.

Life also throws constant spanners in the works. Last week the dishwasher broke – B%llocks! Rushing, I forgot key elements of my daughter’s school gear on two separate school runs – B%llocks, B%llocks. And my bike back wheel literally exploded, scaring pedestrians, as the rim buckled from too much wear – B$LLOCKS! All three made a mess of my best laid plans. Just as you fancy you have things under control, life intervenes.

So control is illusory, power is perverse and life is capricious. What to do? Curl up in a ball? Nope, I think aiming for ‘mastery’ not control is the answer. Mastery means being alive to context, alive to the environment, staying in shape, investing in good friends and support networks, developing resilience and sometimes stoicism and not letting the b@stards – or the botherations – get you down.

A little bit of mastery can go a long way. Giving up on control allows bigger things to become manageable and smaller ones to be less irksome. There will always be days where ‘B%llocks’ is the politest way of saying it. But giving up on the illusion of control means the next impulse is to laugh, not cry.

Buddhify

20120114-181217.jpgI’ve been up for a bit of meditation for a while. But I didn’t fancy too much mumbo jumbo so I’ve dithered. I mentioned it to someone who’s origins are in the East and he smiled sagely and commended it. “Everyone should learn to control their mind.” he said. I said I’d try it when I have time. He smiled knowingly and offered “make the time”.

A friend put me onto ‘mindfulness’ before Christmas and suggested a CD. But that left me thinking where can I play a CD in peace in our house? Pondering this – as so often in modern life – I found a solution waiting for me in the Apple App Store: Buddhify.

Buddhify is a nicely designed no-nonsense ‘snack-sized’ introduction to ‘urban meditation’ which certainly works for me. On a train, yesterday, I did a short module designed for travel on ‘clarity’.

The idea, gently and melodiously articulated, was to step back from noises and lights and people and rattles and clunks and view them as a mental ‘firework display’. And one, which with training, you can observe with a certain amount of abstraction.

As the voice-over says, it’s interesting how our consciousness is ‘tugged’ from one thing to another: staccato sunlight shining low through trees, the heater blasting out under my feet, an itch behind my knee, my breathing, a person tapping on a table, the clatter of wheels on rails.

There are lot of mental fireworks going off all the time when you stop to’observe’ them – even when you’re not consciously thinking or doing anything. Little wonder it’s sometimes hard to relax.

But, in a matter of minutes, whether by breathing, watching the fireworks or noting that I live in a body, and noticing which bits of me are tense and which relaxed (I noticed bizarrely that my front teeth were my most relaxed bit once) these little Buddhify routines clear the head and calm the body and mind.

The tricky bit is finding a place and a time where it’s ok to close my eyes! Announcing you’re ‘off to meditate’ sounds a bit yogic. But slipping some iPhone earphones in is neutral enough. Well done Buddhify – a miniature, minor, modern marvel built on centuries old wisdom. Well worth a mindful if you have a smartphone.

Relevant Complexity 1) The Spice of Life

20120108-152605.jpgMy new theory of everything: all purpose and enjoyment in life is found in ‘relevant complexity’.

I came to the idea via the Hungarian American psychologist Mihili Csikszentmihalyi’s theory of ‘flow’: that we achieve optimum experience when we meet considerable challenge with considerable skill. Or put another way – when we master complexity.

I propose, that, the value of doing something and the intrinsic enjoyment in doing it, lies in it having and creating further ‘relevant complexity’. Let’s prove the pudding with food.

Does relevant complexity describe our relationship with food? Yes, I think it does. I’ve started doing lots of cooking lately – not least Indian. I seem to really enjoy it. Why? It needs doing. I get a break from the kids. When I get it right I get positive feedback from the missus. And, I mostly quite enjoy eating what I cook.

Notwithstanding there are some great dishes which are very simple, most of what’s considered ‘tasty’ in the world’s cuisines involves blending different ingredients, tastes and textures in relevant complexity.

To many, too much of one, one that’s out of place or the wrong blend of ingredients creates irrelevant complexity – often simply nasty. In fact I’d argue that even the simplest ‘great’ foods rely on great ingredients – which are often very complicated to grow, make or rear, requiring optimum care and conditions.

As the scientific chef Heston Blumenthal points out, cooking is applied chemistry. The complexity comes in applying it to that most unpredictable of non-linear systems – human taste.

And tastes develop and mature with experience. Taste doesn’t stand still, it is cultivated and grows. Blame ‘flow’, if the challenge doesn’t move on we become bored.

So, I conclude the joy in making and eating food lies in creating, enjoying and cultivating a taste for ‘relevant complexity’. It’s the spice of food life. Mmmm.