What did you expect?

Planning for the future is a universal predilection, albeit in varying degrees between individuals. To effectively plan, however, we require a certain amount of knowledge about the future. This knowledge is, of course, frustratingly elusive, so we resort to predictions, forecasts, and expectations. Unfortunately for most of us, prescience is not our strong suit, and the impact that erroneous expectations have on our lives and our society will be the focus of this post.

Søren Kierkegaard, a 19th century Danish philosopher and the father of existentialism once wrote, “most people are subjective toward themselves and objective toward all others – but the task is precisely to be objective toward oneself and subjective toward all others.” In other words, we expect people who are 99.9% genetically identical and products of homologous upbringings to behave perfectly rationally and consistently while reserving irrationality, capriciousness, and outbursts for ourselves. It is much easier to sympathize with oneself than with others, and this dismissal of the golden rule can lead to frustration, anger, unfair biases, dissolution of relationships, and the stunting of potential incipient relationships.

First impressions influence myriad facets of our lives, but perhaps none as much as expectations for the future. When an individual behaves a certain way in a particular situation, we instinctively expect them to act similarly when that situation arises in the future. To believe so with such a paucity of information, however, would be dangerously presumptuous. A whole host of factors influence the decisions people make and the emotions they display, and what we assume is a cause-effect relationship may have an entirely different cause altogether. Ultimately, our expectations about another individual’s upcoming behavior can lead to a complete misinterpretation of the reality of the situation and unfair treatment of them.

Expectations regarding future events usually result from some form of inductive reasoning, something that 18th century Scottish philosopher David Hume considered highly problematic. Induction is a process of reasoning by which empirical generalizations such as “the sun rises every morning” are used to induce the inevitability of a future outcome. In the case of the previous example, the conclusion would be, “the sun will rise tomorrow.” However, it is impossible to guarantee the rising of the sun tomorrow or any day in the future, as past events do not ensure future events, irrespective of their consistency. A more relatable example would be as follows: “James always laughs at inappropriate jokes, so if I make an inappropriate joke, James will laugh.” It may be true that James will laugh (which will potentially reduce the awkwardness but do nothing to alleviate the inappropriateness) but what if James, a rational and autonomous human, reads the room and realizes how inappropriate the joke was. You are left looking foolish and potentially uninvited to the next dinner party, but more than that, you might feel compelled to blame James for your misfortune. He always was a sycophantic people-pleaser anyway. Your expectations about how he would react led to your embarrassment, not some malicious intent on the part of James, but it is easier to shirk responsibility onto the victim of your expectations.

When we expect others – or ourselves – to behave consistently and rationally, we are introducing an artificial order to the “World as Will” as 19th century German philosopher Arthur Schopenhauer elucidated. Our reality exists as the World as Representation, which is based exclusively on the perceivable world around us – the phenomenal world in Kant’s vernacular. However, Schopenhauer believed in a subterranean World as Will that is the underlying cause and foundation for the World as Representation. This “Will” cannot be sensed or perceived, but rather exists as the true “form” of a thing, a perhaps inadvertent callback to Plato’s World of Forms. The World as Will is similar to Kant’s noumenal world, in which things exist as they really are, not as we perceive them. The wavelengths of light reflected by an object that pass through our eyes and are processed into images in our brains are different than the object itself. The object itself exists in the World as Will. The image in our brain exists in the World as Representation, but I digress. Schopenhauer argued that the “Will” does not have an end goal in mind, nor does it possess directionality or order. When we attempt to introduce order into the Will based on perceptions from the World as Representation, we are destined to be disappointed and have our happiness hindered (chemists might liken this concept to that of entropy). There are eerie parallels between this philosophy and the dangers of expectations.

Confirmation bias is a buzzword – rather, buzzphrase – being used frequently in the media and popular debates. It involves taking evidence presented to oneself and interpreting it in a way that supports a personal belief. It is a natural defense against being proven wrong and against cognitive dissonance, and it plagues all of us. Refer to the example of James and the inappropriate joke. The fact that James didn’t laugh likely won’t change your belief regarding his enjoyment of that particular flavor of jokes, but it may further validate your other belief that James is a malicious individual obsessed with climbing the social ladder at any cost. Exploding in anger in an argument about climate change policy likely won’t affect the fact that you consider yourself a calm, understanding person, but it would surely validate the notion that you are very passionate about political issues. When expectations about ourselves or about others come to fruition – even if we are stretching the truth – they become even more indoctrinated and less malleable. It can also lead to stereotyping of certain groups and unfair generalizations of people based on religion, sex, race, age, etc. Eventually, our entire perception of reality is predicated upon our expectations and their fulfillment, or lack thereof, which results in a dangerously myopic worldview.

The scope of this philosophy is not limited to those around us; expectations of ourselves can be even more devastating than those of others. It is not uncommon for an individual to have several different groups that they regularly interact with, all of whom know and expect a slightly different version of the particular individual. To use myself as an example, I can be the smart one in certain groups, but the reckless idiot in others. Around family, I am typically more reserved and docile, but can be quite the opposite amongst friends. I emphasize different aspects of my character when I am in the classroom as opposed to when I am in the gym. This is necessary to be a functioning, multi-faceted individual, and I trust that my slight vacillations are healthy and expected. Ultimately, I believe it is crucial to be able to see a clear reflection of your true self when you look in a metaphorical mirror. Invented personality traits and exaggeration of certain characteristics serve to fog up the mirror, and it seems as though it is ever easier to slip out of focus and be reduced to a silhouette with a blurred face. The expectations of society and individuals of us are becoming more polarized and more readily available. Social media and the technological revolution have glorified certain behaviors and personalities, leading to a reduction in individualism, a promotion of tribalism, and a prescription of expectations for ourselves and those around us. Opinions on how to exist are ubiquitous, and the beauty of self-regulation has been tainted by the hundreds of conflicting expectations we are presented with each day. In your mind, think of what a family member would say your five most defining characteristics are. Now do the same, but with a close friend instead of family member. How about a complete stranger? If the imaginary lists are all different from one another, it could be possible that your true self is lost somewhere in the fog of expectations.

With the risks associated with the future established, it seems appropriate to journey as far into the past as memory allows and conclude this meandering message with a quote from 2nd century Greek philosopher Epictetus:

“It is impossible for a man to learn what he thinks he already knows."