Brian Little in TIME magazine | The Upside of Being an Introvert

(And why extroverts are overrated)
by Bryan Walsh

Cover of TIME magazine Feb. 2012

Brian Little in this month's TIME magazine cover story.

“Take Brian Little. He’s a research psychologist and superstar academic lecturer, his class on personality at Harvard was perennially one of the most popular at the university. He’s also a serious introvert…”

TIME subscribers can read the full article online.

Personal Projects and Free Traits: Personality and Motivation Reconsidered

Abstract

I review a social ecological model of human development that stimulates recon- sideration of some traditional views in personality and motivational psychology. I propose that the quality of lives is contingent upon the sustainable pursuit of core personal projects. Project pursuit may occasionally require the suspension of biogenic fixed traits and the adoption of ‘free traits’, and I review some prelim- inary research on this recent topic. Free traits are culturally scripted patterns of conduct that are strategically crafted to advance projects about which a person cares deeply. Biogenic introverts, for example, may act as extraverts in order to advance projects requiring expressions of enthusiastic assertiveness. This may not only enhance well-being by promoting successful project pursuit but may also compromise well-being because of challenges to the autonomic nervous system. The costs of free-traited behavior can be mitigated by the provision and use of restorative resources. When viewed through this perspective seeming inconsistencies and paradoxes of daily life become less puzzling as well as more intriguing. By tracing these themes through the lives of a hypothetical couple, George and Elizabeth, I hope to provide a stimulant to theory, research, and applications that can both explain and enhance the quality of lives.  Continue reading

Personality Psychology: Havings, Doings, and Beings in Context

Brian R. Little
Carleton University and
Murray Research Center
Radcliffe Institute for Advanced Study
Harvard University

Introduction: Voices in the Cafeteria

Imagine that we are listening in on a conversation between three students in the college cafeteria. Their discussion weaves around many topics but the dominant theme is their common project of applying to graduate school in psychology. Speaking animatedly and downing her third cup of coffee, Eve declares that she is only applying to her top three choices and she’s looking forward to dragging her boyfriend to Ann Arbor. She suddenly bolts from the group realizing she’s late for her stats class. Adam says little, nods often, and is wondering whether he really is grad school material. Besides, his parents want him to go back home after graduation to work in the family business. Nikki isn’t really listening at all; she’s hung over again, hadn’t realized grad application deadlines were coming up, and frankly is fed up with Adam and Eve and the whole human condition. She mumbles something they can’t quite hear and heads for the restroom.

If you are sitting in the adjacent booth in the cafeteria, would you linger a bit, intrigued by the differing styles, contrasting concerns, and singular stories you hear emerging in the snatches of conversation? If so, then you probably have a natural affinity for personality psychology. This chapter surveys the past and present state of personality psychology as a core specialty within psychology and examines how it goes about understanding the lives of the Eves, Adams, and Nikkis of this world.

The field of personality psychology is flourishing. In many respects the current buoyancy of the field reflects important shifts, both methodological and conceptual, that have occurred over the past two decades. Some of these changes arose in response to conceptual crises within the field, particularly the Great Trait Debate that occupied much of the field in the seventies. (Mischel’s (1968) critique, which launched the debate, and reactions to it are discussed in a later section). Continue reading