# Navigating Attention

In the [last post](https://www.lesswrong.com/posts/StoioB9Tv9uyMbkLW/the-spectrum-of-attention-from-empathy-to-hypnosis) I introduced the concept of the direction of attention existing on a spectrum. On one side of the spectrum, we set aside what would otherwise be salient objections and just *listen* \-\- aiming to experience the world as they explain it. We might call this "empathy". On the other, they set aside objections that would otherwise be salient *to them*, and aim to experience the world was we explain it. We might call this "hypnosis", though it's just the other wide of the same coin.

In this post, we'll go over how to actually navigate this spectrum, and what the challenges are. It seems weird to be able to say stuff like "Jumping off this cliff is safe" and have that *actually* quell fear, let alone "turns out you can just decide to not swell injuries" and have that lead to injuries not swelling. So why doesn't that *always* work? How do we ensure that when it should, it does? The default expectation is that "just saying" things like this would lead to people still being afraid *even if* they believe you. "Fears are subconscious", "I believe you but I dont' know how to alieve it", and the like.

A recurring theme of this sequence is that this is all simpler than it seems. [The way to hit the target when you have a flinch is to intend to hit the target](https://www.lesswrong.com/posts/o6Xxiw6hpWimbAtja/recognizing-optimality). That is, attend to the experience of hitting the target, and act so as to correct things whenever evidence points to you getting off track. The flinch is a distraction, both figuratively and literally. And the way to get past this distraction is to look at it, and decide whether it's worth attending to.

Similarly, the way to navigate direction of attention is to attend to the question of where our attention belongs, and this dramatically simplifies things like "How to get people to listen to us, given that we're definitely totally right?". And similarly, this application of "just look at reality" calls for some explanation.

In this case, the distractions are the [semantic stop signs](https://www.lesswrong.com/w/semantic-stopsign) like "I know, I know, but my brain doesn't get it". Just like you have an opportunity to notice that you can handle the recoil, and decide to aim at the target, you can notice that the semantic stop signs are serving do keep you disconnected from the truth, and decide to aim at the truth. "Okay, I feel anticipatory nerves about this recoil. And still, I will aim at this target". "Okay, my brain doesn't get it yet -- or whatever. That's why I will stfu and *look*".

Once you do that -- on either side -- you get to aim at the thing that matters, and get results that may have felt out of reach. When you have clarity on what's worth looking at, and to how much exclusion of competing shiny objects, the mechanics of "hypnotic inductions" are kinda irrelevant. You still have have to do the mechanics that work, but because it's all downhill from established intent there's no need to micromanage your own behaviors. The behavior functioning as an "induction" -- that is, the behavior that conveys the "This is important, none of that other stuff you're looking at matters right now" cues -- can be as simple as "Shhhhh...". Or a look. Or silence, while you wait until they notice the gravity of the situation. Or whatever else might be contextually appropriate.

Let's look at how this work, and how it doesn't, starting from the idea that we're definitely totally right.[^juz6wdhd5o]

Let's pick a "payload suggestion" -- that is, the object level idea that all of our other communication will be in service of, and the thing that creates the desired ("correct") behavior when attended to.

  
What might that be?

Maybe "If your makeup washes off, *that's okay*".

Maybe it's something we want them to do, like "\[You're going to\] pass the salt", or "\[You're going to\] constrict the blood vessels in that hand".

Or maybe the person is in pain, and you want them to not suffer over it. So maybe "The pain is gone. It just doesn't hurt".

  
Great, so we know what we're trying to convince them of.

Is it true?

*Is* it okay if her makeup washes off? *Will they* do as you instruct? *Is* the pain gone?

It's easy to respond to these with cached answers. "Yes, dammit!", "They *should!*", "It will be if you listen! It's self fulfilling!". But these are all flinches, which disconnect you from your *actual prediction*. Close your eyes, and play the sim forward the way you would in your dreams. *What happens?* What is it that you observe yourself anticipating?

Often the answer here won't be what we want. She probably won't believe us enough to try. They might not do what we want. Our "pain cure" might not "work".

These are distractions as well. Another recurring theme of this sequence is that *if you're actually justified*, you can "just say things" and people will actually believe you[^j7kzgmqbs5f]. Not because of magic and maybe not "just", but the justification that allows you to *know* the truth of your words also allows you to give that look that comes off as credible, and to say "Shhh..." without it feeling disrespectful or like an attempt to manipulate.

So let's set these aside too, for now, and look at what happens when we *do* have faith that if we're correct and justified we will be believed. This is where it gets interesting, because it leads to the question that lies at the heart of rationality.

[What if I'm wrong?](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=An5LjwTjLRk)

  
It's really easy to dismiss a fear as irrational, when you know the irrational person won't listen to you anyway. It's easy to tell the girl in the jacuzzi "You're fine!", when you know she's not going to listen to you anyway. The moment you get the power to overwrite beliefs with your word, when people are willing to take your words at face value and take risks on your word alone, things get *scary*. It's sobering. 

We start to realize we don't want to be wrong, and this shapes how we think and speak. When you hold yourself to giving instructions and asserting truths only when you, yourself, expect them to be true and complied with, your unqualified statements become much rarer, and much more compelling.

Are you *sure* that cliff is safe for your friend to jump off? For them, in the way they'd do it? At this time, in these conditions? The cost to be afraid of isn't that they don't believe you, it's that they *do* \-\- and that you might be wrong.

Are you *sure* that the girl won't be judged for her looks, in a way that is more traumatizing than she can handle? *Is* the pain gone? Then why are you lying to someone you purport to care about? Even if you notice to shift to "You don't have to attend to this pain", are you *sure* the pain is safe to ignore? What if you're wrong? Are you ready and willing to have blood on your hands?

Like the previous question, often the answer here isn't what we want to think either. The fear is *probably* not needed. Or overblown, at least. Probably. Maybe. But that "What if" is a bitch.

Until you accept that responsibility and feel the weight of the decision as your own, you're not speaking conclusions -- only arguments -- hoping to sway the person into making that decision *themselves*, so that the responsibility lies on them should it be in error. We can never be 100% sure of anything, and so if we aim to lead someone we may end up leading them astray. Are we willing to face the risk? To say "I know I might be wrong, and misleading this person who has placed their trust in me, and *still*, I want that to be on me if I'm wrong"? To answer the question "What if I'm wrong?" with "Then these are the consequences" *without* any distancing/minimizing language, to separate us from the truth?

  
When we can answer that question honestly with "Yes. I am willing to accept the consequences of focusing on this", then we can expect people to believe us when we bid for attention on the "payload" suggestion. Until then, our attention is split between "I think this, and yet I worry that" -- and our bid for attention is polluted by that worry. As if to say "Trust me! But not enough for it to be my fault, in case I'm wrong!". As a result, the bids we made will necessarily be for unfocused attention, calling for significant attention to possibilities that our advice is in error.

Having faced the question of "What if we're wrong?" and accepted the consequences, we've made up *our own* mind about how much attention should be focused and in which direction. We're no longer flinching, and are now free from internal resistance to bidding for focused attention. Again, the particular ways we do it aren't especially important. Maybe you explicitly ask for attention, and for them to put away distractions. Maybe the lack of tension in your mind shows in the lack of muscular tension on your face, conveying the message. Maybe the cadence in your voice shows the weight you give the statements you make. Maybe you don't know how you are communicating your intent, but when your intent is on conveying a message and you expect to be understood or believed, you *tend to find a way.*

When we find that we *aren't* willing to accept the consequences wholesale, unconditionally, we can't bid so strongly for attention because we know we don't want our bids to be accepted so unconditionally. So we qualify -- intentionally or otherwise. Instead of "I got you. You're safe", it's "I got the rope. Did you check your knot?", or maybe "I got you?". When that's not enough, that signals something else might be going on that we're missing. Do I not have the \[right\] rope? Is there a problem (or potential problem) other than the knot and the rope? Maybe not, but maybe.

And so this brings up the other important question for navigating the layer of attention: "What am I missing?"

This question does two things, depending on the answer.

Sometimes there's an identifiable answer. When there is, you get to notice that you don't understand their perspective well enough. Maybe you don't realize it's the concrete anchor that's shaky. Maybe you don't recognize what it's like to be an insecure young woman opening herself to being judged. Maybe you'd be singing a different tune if you did.

When the degree to which we can ask to be listened to isn't strong enough to compel listening, the other option for engaging is to listen. Sometimes it's easy, like "It's the concrete anchor, you idiot", but sometimes it's not. Sometimes it's fear, and "I dunno! I'm just scared!", and you have to "listen" in that you focus on the truth of "I'm scared", accept that as a meaningful statement, and explore *what it means*. How would *you* feel, in those shoes up there, saying these things. Experiencing the compelling danger as *meaningful* and *potentially real* \-\- and, if that doesn't just seem right, exploring where it breaks down. It's not about the rope. It's not about the knot. What *could* it be pointing at? Sometimes it's hard because it's illegible, and it's on you to [bring it into focus](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Focusing_(psychotherapy)) and understand.

Other times it's not easy because what you're missing isn't what you think it's supposed to be.

You: What am I missing?  
Other person: I'm not gonna tell you.  
~~You: I guess I can't listen then~~  
You: Hm, the thing I need to listen to is a meta-level unwillingness to even approach the object level. I wonder what *that* is about.[^3c10sfk6gox]  
 

  
And sometimes the only answer is "...nothing".

If someone is trying to tell you how to live your life, and you don't like that, it's easy to mindlessly slip into an attitude of "You don't know me!". And it's easy to brush off "Yes I do!" because "Pshh, he don't even know how much he don't know me". When they stop and sincerely ask "What am I missing?", it's an opening to tell them. You get to tell them off, and justify your refusal to entertain their ideas, so fairly inviting. And when the answer is "....nothing. I guess you do get me, huh", then with what are you going to support your disinterest in listening?

Even if there might be something there, the willingness to hear what they're missing conveys something about how informed their input is likely to be. It's not a result of pushing our perspective away. Maybe they don't know *everything*, but maybe what they do know is worth listening to.

On the level of attention, we can bid strongly to the extent that we can answer "What if I'm wrong" with "I'm willing to eat that cost" -- though the degree to which this will translate to *them* being willing to eat that cost rather than breaking rapport depends on the finite resource of "respect", so bidding hard risks escalation.

Alternatively, we can gain attention by offering attention once the other party decides that we're informed enough to have a perspective worth listening to.

Until then, we get to progress towards a solution by offering attention, and learning what it is that -- in their perspective -- we're missing and is of importance. Because by that point, we're in agreement that we're likely missing something important.  
 

[^juz6wdhd5o]: Of course, none of us would actually act on such an assumption, since we're all perfectly genuine collaborative truth seekers here. But we can pretend, and remind ourselves of how this assumption breaks down. And sometimes we actually are right, and fairly predictably, so it's not entirely crazy. 

[^j7kzgmqbs5f]: With a pretty big caveat here relating to security. 

[^3c10sfk6gox]: I can't tell you how many times I've responded to people telling me they don't want to get into things with "That's okay. I understand", only for them to immediately open up about the thing they were just closed to. They just needed to know that I wasn't going to push them, and listening to that for one moment and reflecting it back is sometimes all it takes.