Times have changed. New ways have been developed to study unconscious thinking, other than putting people on the couch and asking them to free associate. These include studies of the basic processes of perception, learning, and attention (to which people have little conscious access), presenting material to research participants so quickly that they do not perceive it consciously, and brain scanning.

Some of Freud’s ideas have been verified, at least in a general sense. For example, one of the basic premises of psychoanalysis — that people possess unconscious defensive processes that protect their self-esteem — has been well established. But Freud’s view of an infantile, primitive unconscious has proved to be far too limited; the unconscious is much more sophisticated and powerful than he imagined. Humans possess a powerful set of psychological processes that are critical for survival and operate behind the conscious mental scene.

These processes, called the “adaptive unconscious,” are intimately involved in how we size up our world, perceive danger, initiate action, and set our goals. It is the unconscious that allows us to learn our native language with no conscious effort, recognize patterns in our environments while we think about something else, and develop reliable intuitions to guide our actions.

Gaining access to unconscious processes might not be as straightforward as Freud suggested. Freud never said it was easy to circumvent the powerful forces of repression and grapple directly with our unconscious wishes. A fundamental assumption of psychoanalysis, however, is that people can “bring into consciousness that which is unconscious” (in Anna Freud’s words). In contrast, the adaptive unconscious is part of the architecture of the mind that is inaccessible to conscious awareness. People can no more observe how they are unconsciously categorizing their environments, setting goals, and generating intuitions than they can observe how their kidneys work.

Furthermore, trying to introspect directly about the adaptive unconscious can be disruptive. My graduate students and I have conducted studies in which people think carefully about the reasons for their feelings and attitudes. We have found that this kind of introspection can be misleading, because people focus on reasons that happen to come to mind and might not reflect the true reasons behind their feelings. Introspecting about reasons can lead people to ignore intuitions and feelings that are difficult to put into words, but which might be quite important. The danger of introspection is that we can talk ourselves into feelings that we don’t really have.

How, then, can we gain insight into our adaptive unconscious? The trick is to develop theories and narratives about ourselves that correspond at least roughly with the depths of our minds that we can’t observe. One way is to take the stance of an outside observer, inferring our unconscious feelings and motives from what we do. As E. M. Forster put it, “How can I tell what I think till I see what I say?” People might mistakenly think they are more altruistic than they are, for example, until they notice that they seldom give money to charities or engage in volunteer work. By more carefully noting what they do (or fail to do) they could revise their theories about their own personalities.

Another way is to pay close attention to how others view us. If we are considering quitting our jobs to pursue a career as a professional story teller, it might be a good idea to ask our friends if they think this is a good idea, and to make note of the fact that people drift off to the buffet table when we begin our yarn about our recent operation.

If people recognize that their conscious narratives about themselves do not match their unconscious tendencies, they can take steps to mold their unconscious into something better. As Aristotle noted, “We acquire [virtues] by first having put them into action ... we become just by the practice of just actions, self-controlled by exercising self-control, and courageous by performing acts of courage.” Unconscious traits and tendencies can be like habits that are learned with practice. True, a misanthrope is unlikely to have a Cinderella-like transformation into an altruist, simply by deciding to volunteer for an hour at a homeless shelter. New habits can be learned, however, and deliberate decisions to change ourselves can be translated into unconscious behavior patterns, much as Aristotle suggested.