These three Post-Doctoral opportunities are Fellowship opportunities with University of Pennsylvania and Purdue University.
Part I. A Descriptive Analysis
Positive psychology has made a remarkable impact on psychological research and practice in recent years. Significant further work is needed, however, to clarify its core concepts. In a two-part project, the author presents the first systematic analysis of the most basic concept in positive psychology: the “positive.” Part I, presented here, consists of a descriptive analysis. Based on a close reading of founding documents in positive psychology, this analysis reveals six discrete meanings of the positive in these texts, then probes the considerable tensions that arise within and among them and lead to unfortunate confusions in theory, research, and practice. In Part II, the author draws various distinctions to help relieve these tensions and offers a normative definition of the positive, with the goals of providing direction for inquiry and practice and encouraging further analysis of this and other basic concepts in positive psychology.
Part II. A Normative Analysis
Positive psychology has made a remarkable impact on psychological research and practice in recent years. Significant further work is needed, however, to clarify its core concepts. In a two-part project, the author presents the first systematic analysis of the most basic concept in positive psychology: the “positive.” Part I consists of a descriptive analysis. Based on a close reading of founding documents in positive psychology, this analysis reveals six discrete meanings of the positive in these texts, then probes the considerable tensions that arise within and among them and lead to unfortunate confusions in theory, research, and practice. In Part II, presented here, the author draws various distinctions to help relieve these tensions and offers a normative definition of the positive, with the goals of providing direction for inquiry and practice and encouraging further analysis of this and other basic concepts in positive psychology.
I met a woman last week who asked me what I do. When I told her I work in positive psychology, she laughed and said, “As opposed to negative psychology?” Since those of us in positive psychology hear this response frequently, I wasn’t too surprised. I laughed along with her, and then responded with my standard positive psychology elevator speech: “Traditional psychology (not negative psychology) focuses on what’s wrong with people and how to fix it; positive psychology focuses on what’s right with people and how to cultivate it.” I think this is a decent quick description of positive psychology, and it satisfied the person I was talking with. But I believe her reaction points to a deeper issue that we can address only when we ask the question, What does positive psychology mean by “positive”?
Trying to determine the meaning of “positive” in positive psychology reminds me of Augustine. At the beginning of his analysis of the concept of time, he wrote: “What then is time? If no one asks me, I know. But if I want to explain it to someone, I don’t know” (Confessions, XI, xiv, my translation). Similarly, I know what positive means, of course. But the more I try to explain it, the more I realize I actually don’t know what it means.
So I must confess that I don’t actually know what positive psychology means by “positive.” Furthermore, by the time you finish reading this, I hope you don’t either. Why? Because it is only in seeing this term as problematic that we can begin an inquiry that may yield fruitful results. What does positive psychology mean by “positive”? As I share with you some of my struggles with this question, my hope is that it will inspire similar struggles of your own.
“Positive” is a word with many different meanings. In fact, it’s hard to use this word without saying more than you mean. One definition that positive psychologists don’t mean is “marked by or indicating acceptance, approval, or affirmation” (Webster’s Dictionary). The claim is not that positive psychology is the right way of doing psychology, and that all other ways are wrong. The claim, rather, is that positive psychology emphasizes some important perspectives that have long been under-emphasized and neglected in psychology.
Fair enough. But why did the woman I met last week immediately think of “negative” when I said “positive psychology”? I don’t, after all, get the same kind of reaction when I talk about humanistic psychology. People don’t laugh, and say, “As opposed to animalistic psychology?” Nor do I get the same kind of response when I talk about cognitive psychology, or developmental psychology. Why is this?
I got the reaction I did because “positive” and “negative” are polar concepts. The philosopher Simon Blackburn defines polar concepts as “concepts that gain their identity in part through their contrast with one another” (The Oxford Dictionary of Philosophy). We often think of polar concepts as opposites. Consider the following pairs of words: male/female, light/dark. Male/female are binary opposites. If you are one, you are not the other; and if you are not the one, you are definitely the other. Light/dark are continuum opposites. You can have both, to varying degrees. But if you get more of one, you automatically have less of the other; and if you get less of one, you automatically have more of the other. This is because one term actually means the absence of the other. Dark means “devoid of light.”
The irony here is that, while we often think of “positive” and “negative” as polar opposites, the foundational claim of positive psychology is that they are not. According to positive psychology, happiness is not the polar opposite of unhappiness. In fact, I identify the Fundamental Principle of Positive Psychology as
Happiness ≠ Absence of Unhappiness
According to positive psychology, getting rid of unhappiness is not the same thing as achieving happiness. Getting rid of anger, fear, and depression will not automatically fill you with peace, love, and joy. Getting rid of weaknesses will not automatically maximize your strengths. Getting rid of angst will not automatically fill your life with a sense of meaning and purpose.
According to positive psychology, happiness and unhappiness are not on the same continuum. While it may be true that the processes by which we can minimize anger, fear, weakness, and angst are related to the processes by which we can maximize peace, joy, strength, and meaning, they are not identical. Nor are they simply the reverse of each other.
To illustrate this point, think of Ed Diener’s subjective well-being construct. For Diener, subjective well-being is a function of three different factors: high positive affect, low negative affect, and high life satisfaction. For Diener, positive and negative affect are not just two ends of the same continuum; they are on different continua.
Think also of Barbara Fredrickson’s work on positive emotions. Fredrickson argues that a key to emotional flourishing is having a high positive-to-negative emotion ratio. We can improve our state, either by increasing positive emotions or by decreasing negative emotions (or both, of course), and these are different processes with different metrics.
So why does this matter? Why should we care that “positive” and “negative” are not polar opposites? One reason is so that positive psychologists don’t make the same mistakes that traditional psychologists have. While many traditional psychologists seemed to think that taking away negatives would automatically create positives, positive psychologists need to avoid the trap of thinking that creating positives will automatically take away the negatives. If it is true that the positive and the negative are on two separate (albeit related) continua, then it is crucial that we pay attention both to processes for cultivating the positive and to processes for mitigating the negative.
On this view, traditional interventions and positive interventions are both important. Here are my definitions for these two terms.
Traditional interventions – evidence-based, intentional acts meant to increase
well-being by diminishing that which impedes or destroys
Positive interventions – evidence-based, intentional acts meant to increase well-being
by augmenting that which causes or constitutes human
If positive psychology is a psychology for everyone, then it must allow room for the application of traditional interventions, even while studying and emphasizing the application of positive interventions.
One key question that remains to be answered has to do with the relation between the positive and the negative. While I have argued that they are not polar opposites (like male/female and light/dark), it is clear that they are not completely separate. Diminishing that which impedes or destroys human flourishing does have some effect on those things which cause or constitute it. And augmenting that which causes or constitutes human flourishing does have some effect on those things which impede or destroy it. How do these effects work? And are they equally powerful? Or is the effect in one direction more powerful?
I hope these reflections have helped shed a little light on what positive psychology means by “positive.” While no one has yet sorted out all of what we mean—and don’t mean—by this term, getting clearer about this fundamental concept will help positive psychology develop a more solid theoretical foundation, which is necessary for the support and stimulation of continued empirical research and application. Of that, I am positive!
In Authentic Happiness (2002), Martin Seligman identifies three pathways to happiness: the Pleasant Life, the Engaged Life, and the Meaningful Life. While these are powerful pathways to consider in the quest for happiness, the question may arise whether there are any paths besides these three.
Seligman at times has talked about the Victorious Life (or the Life of Achievement) as a possible fourth pathway. I would like to suggest another candidate here. At first blush, it may seem like the pathway I propose is the antithesis of the Victorious Life, but I think more careful investigation will show that these two pathways are intertwined with each other—and to some degree, with each of the others, as well.
The pathway to happiness I would like to consider here is the Yielded Life, or the Life of Submission. This pathway to happiness involves giving ourselves up in some way, as well as acceptance and perhaps resignation. Persons walking this path can choose to yield their lives in a variety of ways, some no doubt much more healthy than others. Persons may choose to yield themselves to God, to some larger cause, to a political power, to fate, to another person, and so on.
The number of people who seek happiness in this way is very large. Indeed, a yielding of oneself to God and/or a renunciation of the world in some fundamental way seems to be a core component of most if not all religions. Many religions require a yielding of the self or ego, often in a way marked by a particular ritual.
Whether or not we are religious, living socially seems to require frequent yielding. We are required to submit to governmental authority. Marriage can be thought of as a social institution that requires two individuals to yield themselves to the other in a profound way as two become one. And just getting along with others in the world requires frequent accommodation to their needs and desires.
Even at a more basic, psychological level, yielding, submission, and acceptance are keys to happiness, and even health. Acceptance of the universe and our place in it, as well as of the setbacks and losses that inevitably come our way is something each of us must practice.
In his wonderful book The Conquest of Happiness (1930), Bertrand Russell includes a chapter on “Effort and Resignation.” He distinguishes between two different kinds of resignation. The first kind is rooted in despair. We can fall into this kind of resignation when we experience such a fundamental defeat in life that we don’t think we will ever be able to achieve any thing important again. If he were writing today, Russell might call this kind of resignation learned helplessness. This kind of resignation, of course, is not good, but he claims that the second kind of resignation is fundamental to happiness. This second kind of resignation is based on “unconquerable hope.” If our major purposes in life are thwarted, we can take comfort in our larger hopes for humanity—resigning ourselves to present losses, but consoling ourselves that future gains by others may yet achieve the intended results. If our secondary purposes in life are thwarted, we can resign ourselves to these defeats and still retain our happiness by focusing on those areas of our lives in which we have not been thwarted. To fixate on the defeat and thus allow it to destroy our happiness, Russell contends, is both unnecessary and unwise.
With the other pathways to happiness Seligman explores, it is possible to follow them well or poorly. Deeply savoring the joys of life can lead to happiness, while shortcuts to pleasure can lead to addiction; focusing on using one’s signature strengths more can lead to deep fulfillment, or it can divert one from acknowledging and repairing character flaws; using one’s signature strengths in the service of something larger than oneself can lead to deeply meaningful results, or (if the “something larger than oneself” is immoral), it can lead to the destruction of many. The case is similar with the Yielded Life. It is possible to yield oneself wisely and in that way to take steps toward happiness; or it is possible to yield oneself unwisely, to the wrong ideals, at the wrong time, for the wrong reasons—and in that way contribute to the destruction of oneself and others.
Typically, it is fairly easy to follow one of these paths poorly. But to follow it well requires knowledge and practice. Seligman’s claim is that research in positive psychology can contribute to the knowledge and practical expertise required to walk these paths successfully. I want to claim something similar for the Yielded Life. And I want to encourage positive psychologists to find ways of studying this life empirically to make this knowledge and practical expertise available to all.
Russell, B. (1930). The conquest of happiness. New York: Liveright.
Seligman, M. E. P. (2002). Authentic happiness. New York: Free Press.
If you took an introductory philosophy course in college, chances are at some point in the semester, your professor asked you and your classmates why you had come to class that day.
“Because I want to be ready for next week’s exam,” you might have responded.
“Why do you want to be ready for next week’s exam?” your professor may have prompted.
“Because I want to get a good grade in this class.”
“Why do you want to get a good grade in this class?”
“So I can graduate.”
“Why do you want to graduate?”
“So I can get a good job.”
“Why do you want to get a good job?”
At this point, you may have begun to feel a bit exasperated, but you were getting used to the fact that your philosophy professor liked to ask lots of questions. So after thinking for a bit, you said, “Because I want to earn a lot of money.”
You could have predicted your professor’s response. “Why do you want to earn a lot of money?”
“Because I want to be happy,” you responded.
“And why do you want to be happy?”
At this point, you just stared at your professor and mumbled, “Just because….I want to be happy.”
At this point, your professor stopped the questions and pointed out that you had just illustrated Aristotle’s claim in the Nicomachean Ethics, that happiness is “the end at which all actions aim.” Aristotle argues that everything we do, we do because we think it will make us happy. Consciously or not, we consider each of our actions to be a means for achieving happiness. Happiness, on the other hand, is something we want to achieve for its own sake, and not as a means to anything else.
Positive psychologists, it seems, disagree with Aristotle. Barbara Fredrickson, for example, argues that, while positive emotions are valuable in their own right, they are also valuable for what they bring. According to her broaden-and-build theory of human emotions, positive emotions are not simply markers of happiness; they are causes of other valuable things, as well. They broaden our attention and help us build our intellectual, psychological, and social resources. These expanded resources are likely to lead to a whole range of positive outcomes. So for Fredrickson, it seems that happiness can be a means to other valuable things.
Ed Diener argues that happiness is subjective well-being, which he defines in terms of high positive affect, low negative affect, and high life satisfaction. His empirical research indicates that subjective well-being leads to things like increased longevity, better health, and greater success in life. Like Fredrickson, it seems that Diener is arguing that happiness can be a means to other things.
For Mike Csikszentmihalyi, happiness is flow—a state in which our skills are matched with the challenges we face and our whole attention is completely absorbed by the task at hand. While Csikszentmihalyi sees flow as being valuable in its own right, he also sees it as an important tool for education. Children who are in flow at school are likely to learn more and more readily than those who are not.
So is positive psychology proving Aristotle wrong? Is it not the case, after all, that happiness is the end at which all actions aim? Is happiness itself a means to other valued outcomes?
Let’s go back to your college philosophy professor, to see what he or she would say. Your professor might point out that Aristotle’s notion of happiness encompasses more than positive affect, subjective well-being, and flow. It refers to a broader notion of human flourishing. Chances are, though, that your professor would probably respond…with a question. If it’s true that positive emotions, subjective well-being, and flow lead to increased intellectual, psychological, and social resources; to increased longevity, better health, and greater success in life; and to more effective education—your professor would ask, “Why do you want those things?” And eventually we would have to respond, “Because we think they will make us happy.”
So maybe positive psychologists are helping us to see that happiness tends to be self-perpetuating. Happiness leads to conditions that tend to bring more happiness. The more we flourish, the more we are likely to flourish. So maybe Aristotle is right, after all, that happiness is the end at which all actions aim. And if happiness is a means to something, it’s only to more happiness. So every time positive psychology turns Aristotle on his head, he manages to right himself again. Does this mean that cartwheels and somersaults are also a part of happiness?