Marshmallows, Obedience and You

In the famous Stanford Marshmallow Experiment (1972), Professor Walter Mischel gave four year-old children a marshmallow, and instructed them that if they waited twenty minutes without eating it, they would be given another one. Mischel observed that although some would “cover their eyes with their hands or turn around so that they can’t see the tray, others start kicking the desk, or tug on their pigtails, or stroke the marshmallow as if it were a tiny stuffed animal”, a few would simply eat the marshmallow as soon as the researchers left. This experiment gave insight into the development of delayed or deferred gratification, and we decided to test out the task on our own two girls. First, Cara, who is age 4: the same age as those in the original experiment. We left her in the room for ten minutes with the sweetie. Although the camera battery didn’t last the duration of the time, here’s a short clip.

When I came into the room after ten minutes, she was sitting on the chair, the sweetie unopened, with a big smile on her face. When we asked her about her time in the room, she said she hadn’t even touched the sweetie. Apart from a brief trip across to the window to see if we were outside (we heard her walking across from downstairs), she’d been sitting down the whole time. I was amazed that for a girl who ordinarily would hate being put in a room on her own for an extended period, she was so focussed throughout the task. We tried Felicity, too, although she’s only 2 years old. Here’s the first part of her five minutes:

Listening from outside the door, we heard her pick up the sweetie after a couple of minutes, and tap it on the plate. However, she didn’t open it, and when we went in, was holding it in her hand, safe, but undamaged. Believe me — for our two year old, this is an incredible result.

Thinking about the Stanford Marshmallow Experiment makes me consider reasons why both our girls were, like a third of Mischel’s original subjects, so successful at delaying their gratification. The psychology of the experiment is powerful — this task produced unusual results in our girls. If you watch carefully both videos, especially Cara’s, you’ll see our girls looking at the camera. Although they were alone in the room, there was a witness — and a reason to obey.

Here’s my hypothesis. The LDS Church focuses on ‘obedience [as] the first law of heaven’ and commandments that seem otherwise abstract (coffee prohibition, no shopping on Sunday, etc) in order to develop an ability for deferred gratification. Of course, lots of religions and societies do similar things: but the LDS Church has been significantly more successful/focussed on this, with results that set it apart from other social institutions. These results include the financial strength of the Church: members who are less likely to spend on ‘selfish’ pleasures will be more willing to pay their tithing and offerings, and earn money to raise the larger families that will, in turn, strengthen Church membership in the future.

I think it’s possible to interpret LDS teachings in a different way from this, for sure. However, in the wards I grew up in, the teachings were filtered through a kind of ‘working class’ narrative, that magnifies and accentuates these messages. It’s easy to see why, especially in the historically stratified United Kingdom, society would benefit from having its working people routinely favour deferred gratification over pleasure. The whole social structure depends on their willingness to produce economically useful labour, and not spark social unrest because of their existence at the bottom of the social pile. Of course, beer has traditionally played a role in maintaining this status quo, but for Mormons this doesn’t apply. Work, and more work — like the Puritans before, narrative is the answer. LDS theology is, I think, designed to function especially well in tandem with ‘working class’ narratives. It gives a kind of satisfaction for those who could find no other. However, in the Western world we are entering a time of the expansion of a now almost-universal middle class. The game is changing.

Now, I don’t want to give you the impression that I only see one side of the pancake. Of course, deferred gratification is an important aspect of mature psychology. We all learn to put off what we want now, for what we want most. Yet, I suggest, it’s possible to take deferred gratification to a level where we no longer ‘delay’, but, indeed, ‘defer’ our pleasure to another life, always putting off that marshmallow in favour of production, collection, amassing.

What’s more, I think LDS/working class theology encourages this, and I am surrounded by very good people, who (metaphorically speaking) use the ‘marshmallow’ to spur themselves onwards, without ever partaking. In this model, the dreams of pleasure and peace become carrots that dangle in front of us perpetually, never arriving, never being enjoyed for more than a tiny moment — enough to tantalise, and not satisfy.

Now onto larger social and philosophical questions: do we see satisfaction as immoral? Is achieving a state of satisfaction selfish, or does it make us lazy? I believe that I absorbed these ideas, and only in recent years started to learn how to — once I’ve waited a while — really enjoy a good marshmallow. The result? I think this change actually makes us more productive in the long term, as our bodies learn that significant and satisfying pleasure follows deferral of our gratification. For those who have lost the pleasure of life, it doesn’t take a mid-life crisis to see: two marshmallows in the hand are worth a hundred in the bush, or in other words, there’s an optimum level of delayed gratification, and we shouldn’t make the mistake of deferring indefinitely.

So where does this leave the LDS Church? Well, I believe the Church is very good at evolving to fit its social reality, and as much as it will (for obvious reasons) resist the change that will see its members become less directly obedient and economically productive, it will adapt. The result, happily, will be that to those outside the Church, LDS people will become more comprehensible — not participating in an outdated model that sacrifices the fulfilment   and actualisation of the individual for some higher narrative, but people whose life narratives harmonise into a society that benefits mutually.

So pass round the marshmallows! You’ve walked a long way to be here, and it’s time to celebrate our community.

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