Large Language Models

The Lawyer in Your Head: Redefining Human Reason We often treat human reason as a sacred tool for uncovering objective truth. We imagine ourselves as mini-scientists, gathering data to reach the most accurate conclusion. However, a closer look at our evolutionary history suggests a different reality. Lionel Page argues that reason did not evolve to help us solve abstract puzzles or find the laws of physics. Instead, it evolved as a social tool. Most of the challenges our ancestors faced were not environmental, but interpersonal. Getting a group to follow your lead, convincing a partner of your worth, or negotiating a fair share of a hunt required a specific kind of cognitive faculty. Our minds operate less like scientists and more like lawyers. A scientist seeks the truth wherever it leads, while a lawyer starts with a desired conclusion and works backward to find the most compelling evidence to support it. This shift in perspective explains why "irrational" behaviors like confirmation bias are so pervasive. If your goal is to win an argument rather than be right, ignoring inconvenient facts is not a bug; it is a feature. This self-serving nature of reason ensures that we are always prepared to make our case in the social arena, regardless of the objective reality of the situation. The Social Utility of Rationalization If we only used reason to find the truth, we would constantly be at a disadvantage in a world where everyone else is trying to win. By framing our desires in the language of reason, we provide a veneer of legitimacy to our self-interest. When you ask your boss for a raise, you do not simply say, "I want more money." You construct a logical narrative about your contributions, market rates, and future potential. This is reasoning in action, but it is entirely directed toward a personal outcome. We use this same mechanism to navigate complex friendships, family dynamics, and romantic relationships, ensuring our needs are met while maintaining the appearance of fairness. The Strategic Benefit of Self-Deception One of the most paradoxical traits of the human mind is our tendency toward self-deception. From a survival standpoint, having accurate information about the world seems paramount. Why would evolution select for a brain that lies to its owner? Lionel Page points to the work of biologist Robert Trivers, who proposed that we deceive ourselves so that we can more effectively deceive others. Lying is cognitively demanding and physically risky. When we lie, we often leak "cues"—subtle signs of stress, shifting eyes, or inconsistent tone—that others can detect. If you genuinely believe your own lie, those cues disappear. You become a far more convincing advocate for your own interests because your conviction is real. This is why we see widespread overconfidence in the population. Most people believe they are better-than-average drivers, more ethical than their peers, and more competent in their jobs. While statistically impossible, these beliefs serve a purpose: they allow us to navigate the world with a level of confidence that attracts allies and intimidates rivals. We are not just lying to feel good; we are lying to succeed. The Victimhood Gambit Self-deception takes many forms beyond simple arrogance. Sometimes, it manifests as a strategic adoption of victimhood. By convincing ourselves that we have been uniquely wronged, we can claim moral high ground and demand retribution or special treatment. This "4D chess move" allows an individual to appear lower in status on the surface while actually exerting a high degree of social power. If the rules of a group dictate that victims deserve compensation, self-deceiving into a victim state becomes a highly effective way to extract resources from the collective without being seen as a predator. The Recursive Mind: Why Communication Outclasses Chess Computers defeated grandmasters in chess decades before they could hold a convincing conversation. This is because chess, despite its vast number of moves, is a game of perfect information with a fixed set of rules. Human communication, by contrast, is a game of "recursive mind reading." When I speak to you, I am not just transmitting data. I am modeling what I think you believe, what I think you think I believe, and how you will interpret my words based on our shared history. This complexity is best illustrated by the principle of relevance. We do not say everything we mean; we provide the minimum amount of information necessary for the other person to fill in the gaps. If a partner asks to play tennis and the other responds, "I'm tired," the literal words do not answer the question. However, through a complex web of mutual assumptions, the first person knows the answer is "no." This requires each person to put themselves in the other’s shoes, a feat of cognitive engineering that Large Language Models like ChatGPT are only beginning to mimic by imitating vast datasets of human interaction. Ambiguity and Plausible Deniability Because social interactions often involve conflict, we frequently use indirect speech and innuendo. By being ambiguous, we preserve plausible deniability. If you suggest a drink at the end of a date and are rejected, you can retreat into the literal meaning—that you were simply thirsty. This prevents the social "cost" of a blunt rejection and avoids creating "common knowledge" of the failure. We use these same tactics in the office and in politics to test the waters of a coalition or challenge an authority figure without committing to an open confrontation that could damage our reputation. Coalition Psychology and the Mechanics of Belonging Humans are fundamentally tribal, but our tribes are not fixed. We belong to multiple, overlapping coalitions—work teams, sports fans, political parties, and family units. Lionel Page notes that our psychology is exquisitely tuned to monitor our standing within these groups. The fear of social exclusion is one of our most potent stressors because, for our ancestors, being cast out of the group was often a death sentence. This drives our deep-seated need to belong and our obsession with signs of loyalty. Coalitions test loyalty through commitment. This explains why people often adopt extreme or even ridiculous beliefs. If a group requires you to believe something that contradicts obvious reality, your public profession of that belief is a powerful signal of your loyalty. You are essentially saying, "I care more about this group than I do about objective truth." This dynamic fuels political polarization. In a highly polarized environment, the cost of being seen as an unreliable ally by your own side is far higher than the cost of being factually wrong. The Game of Morals in Politics We often view politics as a debate over the "common good," but Lionel Page suggests it is better understood as a bargaining process between competing coalitions. Because we cannot simply fight for resources without destroying the social fabric, we engage in a "game of morals." We argue over abstract principles of fairness, such as whether it is better to prioritize individual incentive (the Right) or collective equality (the Left). These ideologies are essentially "bids" to rewrite the social contract in a way that favors one’s own coalition. The genius of Democracy is not that it finds the truth, but that it forces leaders to please a large enough "selectorate" that the interests of the majority are broadly protected. Living the Dream: The Benefit of Unawareness If life is a series of strategic games, why don't we feel like we're playing them? The answer is that we are more effective players when we are unaware of the game. If you had to consciously calculate the strategic benefit of every friendship or romantic gesture, you would appear cold, manipulative, and untrustworthy. Instead, evolution has outsourced these calculations to our emotions. We feel genuine love, loyalty, and outrage. These emotions bind us to others in ways that are visible and credible. A person who is "besotted" by love isn't looking at other options, which makes them a more secure and attractive partner for long-term investment. Our conscious mind is like a user interface that only shows us the information we need to be effective, hiding the underlying "code" of biological self-interest. By believing our own narratives, we navigate the complex social landscape with a sincerity that no conscious strategist could ever fake. Understanding these games doesn't necessarily mean we should stop playing them; it simply offers us a moment of clarity in the midst of a beautifully complex, lifelong performance.