Intro. [Recording date: April 29, 2025.]
Russ Roberts: Today is April 29th, 2025, and I’m pleased to welcome back psychologist Paul Bloom from the University of Toronto. His Substack, aptly titled Small Potatoes, has been the platform for his insights. This marks Paul’s seventh visit to EconTalk, following our last discussion in April 2024, where we delved into the quest for immortality. Welcome back, Paul.
Paul Bloom: Great to be here, Russ.
Russ Roberts: In a recent essay on your Substack, you posed an intriguing question to Claude, an AI agent developed by Anthropic: “Is it nature or is it nurture?” Claude’s response was rather philosophical, suggesting that this dichotomy is overly simplistic, akin to asking whether a rectangle’s area is determined by its length or width. Claude concluded that both elements are invariably intertwined. You, however, disagreed, stating, “Claude’s summary reflects the consensus in my field, but I do not concur.” Before we unpack your disagreement, let’s set the stage by discussing the intellectual battleground: the nativists versus the empiricists. What do these terms signify?
Paul Bloom: Traditionally, the debate between nativists and empiricists has been one of the most significant in philosophy and psychology. Nativists, beginning with Plato and extending to contemporary figures like Noam Chomsky, argue that much of our cognitive and emotional landscape is dictated by biological predispositions—essentially, we are born that way. This perspective was the backdrop for my own education at MIT, under the guidance of scholars like Susan Carey and Steven Pinker, who steeped me in this intellectual tradition.
Conversely, the empiricist view—embraced by British thinkers like John Locke and David Hume—asserts that human nature is infinitely adaptable. They argue that our minds are primarily shaped by experiences and associations, with no fixed traits. This idea has persisted through the modern era, gaining traction among some neural network theorists who dismiss the notion of a stable human nature entirely. This encapsulates the traditional debate.
While I have historically aligned with the nativist perspective, advocating that evolutionary theory and developmental psychology lend credence to the existence of human nature, I have always appreciated the richness of this debate. Recently, however, I’ve encountered a pervasive sentiment suggesting that the nature-nurture question is overly simplistic, with many asserting that these influences blur together. My desire to defend the legitimacy of the debate inspired my Substack post, arguing that the question of whether it is nature or nurture remains crucial.
Russ Roberts: Before we dive deeper, I want to share one of my favorite jokes. I may have told it before, so forgive me if it’s a repeat. A high school student returns home with a report card filled with Ds and Fs. His father, reviewing the grades, asks, “What do you think, Dad? Nature or nurture?”
Paul Bloom: I hadn’t heard that one before, but I like it.
Russ Roberts: It’s profound—a serious jest, indeed.
Paul Bloom: Analyzing the joke makes it even more interesting: the kid is posing a significant question. He could have asked, “Dad, if I were raised in a different family, would I still be this clueless?” It’s an insightful contemplation.
Russ Roberts: A former colleague at the University of Rochester, Walter Oi, used to say that the two most important choices in life are your spouse and your parents. While we don’t choose our parents, the familial environment shapes us significantly—something that touches upon both nature and nurture.
Paul Bloom: Behavioral genetics suggests that parents significantly influence their children, though most of that influence occurs at conception.
Russ Roberts: That’s a profound consideration. I’ve had Bryan Caplan on the show, who argues that parental influence, aside from genetic inheritance, is minimal—suggesting that we often overestimate our parenting impact. I disagree with him, but his perspective is worth considering in our desire to believe that our parenting choices make a substantial difference.
Paul Bloom: I think we do overrate our influence. I find myself pushed back gradually by friends and family who point out that parents do affect their children in ways that are often overlooked by psychologists. For instance, a relative of mine is passionate about Italian sports cars, a passion clearly shared with her father—not something genetic, but undoubtedly influenced by upbringing. In other cases, nature and nurture work in tandem; I know multiple father-son or father-daughter pairs who are all philosophers or butchers, continuing familial legacies.
Russ Roberts: So, you believe this question—nature versus nurture—is a valid one, and that the modern notion of their intertwining is misguided. Why is that?
Paul Bloom: Let’s clarify: in the context of our discussion, we’re examining how individuals differ from one another. It’s evident that very few traits can be attributed solely to nature or nurture. Eye color might be one such case, but most characteristics—intelligence, personality, criminality, marital success—are influenced by a combination of genetic predispositions and life experiences. There is extensive debate about the respective contributions of each factor, which I find valuable.
However, I’m more focused on universals rather than mere differences. In discussions about history or politics, someone often asserts, “It’s part of our nature.” Whether it’s a tendency to be suspicious of others or a natural affinity for our children, I believe these claims are not only valid but essential in understanding human behavior. I assert that some traits are indeed rooted in our nature, while others arise from culture or circumstance. Disentangling these influences is a worthwhile endeavor.
Russ Roberts: This intellectual inquiry is not merely academic; it stands as a significant agenda within psychology and evolutionary behavioral studies. The prevailing assumption seems to be a 50/50 split between nature and nurture.
Allow me to share another favorite story—allegedly true—a group of football players on a flight decide to put $20 into a hat for a chance to win a pot of $2000. One player asks, “What are the odds I’ll win?” The organizer replies, “50/50. You either win or lose.” But, of course, the odds are 1 in 100. This misunderstanding illustrates how people often misperceive the nature-nurture debate as a simple balance when it’s far more intricate.
When reflecting on personal challenges, such as temperament, some individuals seem predisposed to happiness from birth. While it’s certainly possible to cultivate happiness, certain temperamental traits may be more genetically predetermined.
Paul Bloom: I agree; temperament is at least partially genetic. We observe cheerful children who seem innately joyful, while others are more anxious or introverted. Happy parents often raise happy children—a correlation that raises questions about the interplay of genetic and environmental factors. If an introverted child grows up in a lively household, do they adapt or remain their true selves? It’s a complex interplay.
Russ Roberts: The challenge for psychology may lie in helping us accept our limitations. Many people wish to believe they can change themselves, myself included. Yet perhaps embracing our inherent traits would lead to greater contentment.
Paul Bloom: I once received an insightful email from a student in my seminar on rationality. He asked whether the takeaway from psychology should be to focus on our strengths rather than our weaknesses. It’s a compelling question, but the answer isn’t straightforward. In an academic setting, one should certainly work to improve areas of difficulty, but if someone is inherently unathletic or musically challenged, pursuing those paths may be less fruitful than honing one’s existing talents.
Russ Roberts: There’s a powerful short story by Somerset Maugham titled “The Alien Corn,” about a young man’s struggle to determine whether he has the talent to be a great pianist. It’s a fascinating exploration of ambition versus ability.
Paul Bloom: I have a joke for you, Russ.
Russ Roberts: I’m all ears.
Paul Bloom: A man visits a tailor to get a suit fitted. The result is atrocious—one arm is too long, the other too short. The tailor insists, “Just adjust your posture like this.” The man stumbles out in a contorted position, and someone admires the suit, saying, “What a beautiful suit! Who is your tailor?” To which the man replies, “Are you impressed? He must be a genius to fit a cripple like you.” This resonates with me, as I often feel like the man in the ill-fitting suit, managing to navigate life despite my shortcomings.
Russ Roberts: That’s beautifully put.
Paul Bloom: It’s a fitting metaphor.
Russ Roberts: In another era, you might have faced severe struggles, but fortunately, you live in a time where your unique skills can thrive.
Russ Roberts: I relate to that metaphor deeply. I’ve heard a version where friends comment on the man’s terrible appearance but admire the suit. Both variations capture the essence of perception.
Paul Bloom: My wife and I recently watched “The Last of Us,” a zombie series, and I often ponder how I would survive in a post-apocalyptic world. I’d likely argue, “I can’t hunt or build, but I can analyze human behavior. Do you need a research psychologist?” Yet, I suspect they’d just send me back to the zombies.
Russ Roberts: An economist might argue that in such times, you’d be better off investing less in psychology and more in survival skills.
Russ Roberts: This leads to an interesting point: the 10,000-hour hypothesis posits that with sufficient practice, anyone can achieve greatness. While there’s debate over Malcolm Gladwell’s interpretation of this idea, many believe that dedication can lead to success in fields like music or art. However, certain limitations exist—my height rules me out of Olympic basketball, for example. Nevertheless, countless individuals take lessons and improve their artistic skills, though the threshold for success remains elusive.
Paul Bloom: The impact of practice can vary significantly by domain. I’ll never become a world champion heavyweight boxer, regardless of my training. Yet, it’s also true that effort typically leads to improvement. Bryan Caplan recently posited that perhaps we don’t apply ourselves enough as parents, suggesting that if we devoted more time to our children, we might see better outcomes. This notion strikes me as absurd.
Russ Roberts: Absolutely. I love Bryan, but the idea that simply spending more time guarantees better parenting is flawed. Go ahead, though—continue.
Paul Bloom: The critical question is how best to utilize our time. I invest effort into writing because I strive to improve as a writer. While I might not achieve greatness, I can certainly enhance my skills. Conversely, if I were to invest considerable time in programming, I’d likely only become a mediocre programmer. It’s essential to patch up necessary skills for adulthood, but if someone is uninterested in music or athletics, pouring time into those areas might be misguided.
Russ Roberts: There’s a striking short story by Somerset Maugham called “The Alien Corn” that explores this exact theme—whether innate talent can be cultivated through sheer effort.
Paul Bloom: Here’s another joke for you, Russ.
Russ Roberts: I’m all ears.
Paul Bloom: A man gets a poorly fitted suit from a tailor. The tailor insists that if he just adjusts his posture, the suit will fit perfectly. The man leaves, stumbling around in discomfort. Someone admires his suit, but the man replies, “Are you impressed? He must be a genius to fit a man like me.” I often feel like that man, navigating my own life while recognizing my limitations.
Russ Roberts: That metaphor resonates with many—finding a way to fit into one’s unique shape.
Paul Bloom: If I were to offer advice, it would be to embrace the ill-fitting suit that nature has given you and find a way to navigate life within its contours.
Russ Roberts: That’s beautifully articulated.
Paul Bloom: It captures the essence of the metaphor well.
Russ Roberts: In a different time, you might have faced dire consequences for your limitations, yet now, unique skills can find a place to thrive.
Russ Roberts: I relate to this notion frequently, so the metaphor resonates deeply. Interestingly, in a version I’ve heard, the man leaves the tailor shop, and two friends remark on his terrible appearance while admiring his suit. Both versions are compelling.
Paul Bloom: My wife and I recently watched “The Last of Us,” a zombie series, and I often ponder how I would survive in a post-apocalyptic world. I’d likely argue, “I can’t hunt or build, but I can analyze human behavior. Do you need a research psychologist?” Yet, I suspect they’d just send me back to the zombies.
Russ Roberts: An economist might argue that in such times, you’d spend less time investing in psychology and more in survival skills.
Russ Roberts: Shifting gears, I want to touch on a more serious note. Your essay prompts reflection on the intense dialogue among scholars in this domain. There’s a famous quip suggesting that academics are petty because the stakes are small. I find that notion misguided; the stakes are significant, especially in the nature versus nurture debate. Why do you think this disagreement ignites such passion among scholars, even when it may not seem practically impactful in our daily lives?
Paul Bloom: That’s an insightful question. I believe we all harbor a theory of human nature, whether we’re scholars or not. When someone claims that children learn to hate, they’re espousing a theory. Similarly, when people argue about the differences in intellectual abilities among groups, they’re reflecting their beliefs about human nature. This deeply ingrained perspective is a key part of the answer.
The more significant reason is that these theories have real-world implications. For example, if one subscribes to the belief that humans are highly malleable, then a well-structured society could theoretically eliminate prejudice and cruelty through proper education and social structures. However, if you believe in innate constraints on human behavior, you adopt a more pessimistic view, which, as Thomas Sowell posits, leads to a more tragic understanding of human nature. This perspective urges a reevaluation of government roles and policies, as it acknowledges limits to what can be achieved in societal reform.
Russ Roberts: That aligns with my observations. Thomas Sowell’s Conflict of Visions presents two contrasting perspectives on human nature that are pivotal in shaping our views on government and public policy: the utopian vision that anything is possible versus the constrained view that we have inherent limitations. These differing beliefs significantly influence our approaches to governance and social policy.
People frequently assert that children either learn to hate or do not. Many hold strong opinions on this without substantial evidence, relying instead on personal experiences. This phenomenon highlights how individual beliefs often shape perceptions of human nature, rather than facts guiding our understanding.
Paul Bloom: Exactly. The ideal approach is to let empirical evidence dictate our understanding of the world, allowing political ideologies to adapt to the realities we observe. However, many people seem to reverse this process, allowing their political aspirations to dictate their interpretation of facts.
Russ Roberts: If I may probe a bit deeper—perhaps uncomfortably so—would you describe yourself as leaning left of center? I’d categorize myself as center-right, often aligning with classical liberal ideals, which places me on the nature side of this debate. Would you identify with the nurture perspective, and does this align with your political beliefs?
Paul Bloom: Yes, that’s a fair characterization.
Russ Roberts: Thank you for your candor. This dynamic of nature versus nurture often reflects broader political ideologies, but the reality is more nuanced than a simple left-right dichotomy.
