The Psychology and Philosophy of Intuition
By Dr Neel Burton — Psychiatrist, philosopher, and wine writer; Fellow of Green Templeton College, University of Oxford; author of over twenty books.
Intuition is one of humanity’s highest cognitive faculties. Yet it has never been more neglected or devalued than in our rational-scientific age.
At a wine bar in Corsica, I ordered a glass of Vermentino and got chatting about wine with the sommelier who brought it to me. After a time, I ordered another glass, and we spoke again. I like testing my intuitions, so I said, at point blank, “You write poetry, don’t you?” The chap, taken aback by my sorcery, confirmed that he did indeed write poetry, and even that some of his poems had been published.
An intuition is a disposition to believe formed without hard evidence or conscious deliberation. I say ‘disposition to believe’ rather than ‘belief’ because an intuition is usually held with less certainty or firmness than a belief; and ‘believe’ rather than ‘know’ because an intuition is not justified in the normal sense, and not necessarily true or accurate.
It is not just that intuition is arrived at without hard evidence or conscious deliberation, but that these can impede it. ‘I am not absentminded,’ wrote the polymath GK Chesterton, ‘it is presence of mind that makes me unaware of everything else.’
Intuition vs Instinct
Intuition is often confused with instinct. Instinct is not the same as intuition. Whereas intuition is a disposition to believe without conscious reasoning, instinct is an innate tendency towards a particular behaviour. Instinct is not a sense about something, but a tendency to do something. ‘Anna stepped back, intuiting that the dog would follow its instinct and attack.’
Although we ordinarily associate instincts with animals, human beings also have quite a few, even if they are, or can be, strongly modified by culture, temperament, and experience. Examples of human instincts include any number of phobias (fear of heights, fear of spiders, fear of snakes…), territoriality, tribal loyalty, and the urge to procreate and rear their young. These instincts are often modified, redirected, or sublimed: for example, tribal loyalty may find an outlet in sport, and the urge to procreate may take the more rarefied form of romantic love.
In the Rhetoric, Aristotle adds that human beings have an instinct for truth, and in the Poetics, that we have an instinct for rhythm and harmony. Obviously, he hadn’t seen my dancing.
The Psychology and Philosophy of Intuition
If intuition is not instinct, how does it operate?
An intuition involves a coming together of facts, concepts, experiences, thoughts, and feelings that are loosely linked but too disparate and peripheral for deliberate or rational processing. As this reflection is sub- or semi-conscious and the workings are hidden, an intuition appears to arise ex nihilo, out of nothing and nowhere, and cannot, or at least not readily, be justified.
What makes an intuition so hard to support and argue for is that it is founded less on arguments and evidence than on the interconnection of things. It hangs, delicately, intricately, and invisibly, like a spider’s web.
Many of humanity’s greatest insights seem to have arisen in this way. Archimedes is said to have leapt from his bath crying, ‘Eureka!’ after discovering how to determine the purity of a gold crown. Socrates attributed many of his most important decisions to his daimonion, an inner voice that warned rather than reasoned. After struggling for months with a mathematical problem, Henri Poincaré suddenly saw its solution while stepping onto a bus. The chemist August Kekulé dreamt of a snake swallowing its own tail before recognising the ring structure of benzene. Srinivasa Ramanujan attributed many of his astonishing mathematical discoveries to dreams sent by the goddess Namagiri. Such breakthroughs seem sudden only because the mind has been quietly at work beneath the surface.
The surfacing of an intuition, which can also occur in dream or meditation, is often mingled with a concordant feeling such as joy or fear, or simple pride and pleasure at the supreme cognitive and human achievement that an intuition represents.
How to Invite Intuition
If this is how intuition works, we can cultivate it by expanding the range of our experiences, and by tearing down the barriers—such as biases, fears, and inhibitions—that prevent them from coalescing.
We should also give ourselves more time and space for free association. My own intuitive faculty is sharpest when walking, showering, travelling, or otherwise daydreaming, and when I am well rested.
The more richly furnished the mind, the more deeply it can intuit. There is no such thing as wasted knowledge.
Finally, we should acknowledge the place and power of intuition. We have micro-intuitions all the time, about what to eat, what to wear, what road to take, whom to talk to, what to say, how to respond, and so on. I call them micro-intuitions because they rely on a great number of subtle variables and largely escape conscious processing. But what about the macro-intuitions?
Never in the history of humanity has the intuitive or mystic faculty been more neglected or devalued than in our rational-scientific age.
Perhaps our greatest error has been to pit intuition against reason. They are not rivals, but partners. Intuition points the way; reason clears the path.
Continue Exploring
If you enjoyed this article, you might also enjoy my books Hypersanity, on heightened insight, creativity, and wisdom, and How to Think Like Plato and Speak Like Cicero, on the ancient art of clear thinking.
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