Locusts. Their reputation for destruction is so epic
that they almost don't sound real.
But they are real.
For centuries, people had no idea
where these creatures came from.
It was a complete mystery.
They just seemed to come out of nowhere,
decimate everything and vanish.
And then in 1921, scientists finally figured it out.
The source of the horrible locusts —
grasshoppers.
For a long time, no one ever imagined that
these smiley, hoppy things could also be
these monstrous destroyers of civilization.
People thought that these were
two completely different species.
This is Michael Anstey, a scientist who studied this.
He says the grasshopper is a shy, solitary thing.
Very sleepy, very gentle.
Like, if they see another grasshopper ...
They actually run away from them.
So how does the docile grasshopper
turn into a swarming, ravenous locust?
It turned out to be a little thing.
When a drought happens,
the grasshoppers all have to crowd
into the same patch of grass.
Their long hind legs rub together,
and it's like tickle torture.
The rubbing together releases some chemical,
which sets things in motion.
So here is the question that interested us:
Why did it literally take centuries
to figure out that these two creatures
were actually the same creature?
And why, even after the theory was proposed,
did scientists resist it?
Maybe it's because we can't see that in ourselves.
You think that there is some essence to who you are
that will endure
regardless of the situation or the context.
But the fact is this is actually not the case.
This is Lisa Feldman Barrett,
a psychology professor from Northeastern.
She says that our attachment to this core identity —
like "I'm a really generous person" —
it runs so deep that when we encounter
a new idea about ourselves,
like "You're actually kind of selfish" ...
People will defend themselves and dig their heels in,
or they'll ignore what was said.
When the reality is ...
You aren't who you are all the time.
You have a vocabulary of the self,
a range of people who you become.
