Prof. Joseph Levine

Conversation 81: The Importance of Narrative in Mental Life and Social Groups in General and as a Predictive Model

By Prof. Levine & Dr. Salganik

Hello to our dear readers,

The ability to construct a narrative – a story with structure and meaning – is a unique and fundamental characteristic of human thought. Humans use narratives to organize their life experiences into meaning, identify patterns, and define their identity.

As early as the 1980s, psychologist Jerome Bruner proposed a distinction between "paradigmatic" and "narrative" thinking, and argued that alongside logical-scientific thinking, there is also a form of narrative thinking in our lives that cannot be reduced to logical thinking. Accordingly, the narrative psychology approach sees humans as "storytellers" by nature, and that human behavior and experience are "saturated with meaning" that is expressed in stories.

In other words, humans deal with their experiences by framing them as stories and meanings, whether in the stories they tell others or in the internal story they tell themselves. This ability is essential not only at the personal level but also at the social level: shared narratives unite groups, transmit cultural values, and motivate group behavior.

Below we will examine in detail the importance of narrative both in the mental life of the individual and among social groups. To this end, we will discuss the role of narrative in shaping personal identity and mental well-being, the importance of collective narratives for social cohesion on the one hand and as a source of conflict resolution on the other. We will discuss an evolutionary perspective comparing humans to primates, as well as therapeutic applications based on narrative. We will also offer a critical analysis of the concept of "man as story" and point out its limitations.

Narrative and Personal Identity in Mental Life

The narratives we tell about our lives play a crucial role in the development of our personal identity and our mental health. According to narrative identity theory (McAdams, 1995), each person shapes an internal life story over the years that describes “how I became who I am” – a story that not only reflects life experience, but also shapes it (McAdams, 2013). The personal narrative provides a sense of unity and continuity to the self despite the various changes and events that the person experiences over time.

A wealth of empirical research supports the idea that coherence—consistency and meaning—in our life narratives is essential for our mental health. For example, studies have shown that people who tell their life stories more coherently tend to report higher levels of life satisfaction, as well as fewer symptoms of depression and mental pathology (Adler et al., 2016; Baerger & McAdams, 1999).

A similar correlation is also found at the level of the story of individual life events: an organized and clear narrative of a difficult event is associated with higher psychological well-being. In addition, the ability to construct a coherent story about negative experiences contributes to mental resilience – it can alleviate the psychological impact of traumatic events and help cope with them more effectively.

On the other hand, failure to design a coherent narrative may damage the sense of identity: researchers have found that among people with certain personality disorders (such as borderline personality disorder), personal stories tend to be fragmented and inconsistent, consistent with a fragmented and disjointed sense of identity (Jørgensen et al., 2012; Lind et al., 2020).

These findings are consistent with the theoretical assumption that the formation of a coherent and meaningful life story is a central component in the development of a stable personal identity (Habermas & de Silveira, 2008).

One way to understand the contribution of narrative to mental life is through the concept of “narrative coherence” – the degree of order, logic, and meaning in the story of our life or in the story of a particular event.

This coherence can be divided into dimensions such as chronological order, contextual (indicating time and place), causality (explaining how events affected a person's life), and thematic (identifying central themes and meanings).

Researchers have suggested that narrative coherence is a primary structural component linking narratives to healthy psychological functioning. Thus, not only is the content of the story important, but also the way it is organized and integrated. For example, Paul Adler and his colleagues reviewed many studies and found that the level of coherence of a complete life story predicts better psychological well-being—including higher life satisfaction and fewer depressive symptoms—over and above the contribution of other personality factors (Adler et al., 2016).

It has also been found that people who are able to tell a coherent story about a traumatic event they experienced show lower levels of post-traumatic distress; writing a story that describes and processes difficult life events (such as in the Pennebaker Expressive Writing Protocol) has been found to reduce physical and mental symptoms and contribute to health (Pennebaker & Seagal, 1999).

Narrative coherence is especially important when it comes to negative events: studies have found that stories about negative experiences tend to be more detailed and organized than stories about positive events, and for men in particular – the degree of coherence in the story of a negative event was a stronger predictor of mental well-being (Vanderveren et al., 2019).

Hence, organizing difficult experiences into a story with a beginning, middle, and end—and in particular, deriving personal meaning from the event—may provide a person with a sense of control, learning, and growth from the crisis (McLean & Pratt, 2006). Accordingly, Habermas and Bluck's developmental theory holds that in late adulthood, the ability to "synthesise life" develops—connecting events into a coherent life story that enables the formation of a mature and complete identity (Habermas & Bluck, 2000).

In personal narratives, not only coherence is important, but also the themes and genres of the story. Dan McAdams and other researchers have distinguished between the types of plots that recur in life stories: for example, redemption stories in which the individual describes how a positive outcome or deep personal meaning emerged from events of crisis and sorrow, as opposed to “contamination” stories in which a positive event went bad or “contaminated” and led to a negative outcome (McAdams, 2006).

Research shows that “redemptive” life stories tend to be associated with better mental health and a sense of meaning, while “deteriorating” stories are more associated with depression and a sense of hopelessness (McAdams et al., 2001; Adler et al., 2015). In other words, it is not just the story itself that has an impact, but also the way in which the individual interprets their life course – whether as a story of growth through struggle, or as a story of decline and loss.

This approach reflects the way in which the narrative serves as a kind of "lens" through which a person sees himself: through his life story, a person gives meaning to past experiences, identifies the values ​​and goals that guide him, and outlines a direction for his future (McAdams, 2013).

Therefore, narrative is a central component of the sense of personal identity: it provides a sense of internal cohesion ("I am the same person over time despite the changes"), a sense of purpose (in light of the story I want to live), and a sense of value (according to the meanings I have extracted from the events of my life). Without an organized narrative, a person may experience identity confusion, a feeling that they "do not know themselves" or that their life is directionless.

To summarize this section, the narrative in mental life is an essential mental tool through which we shape our identity and regulate our mental health. It allows us to transform a sequence of events and experiences into a meaningful story, and thus perceive our lives as whole rather than as a random mosaic of moments. Consistent and meaningful personal narratives are linked in many studies to mental resilience, higher subjective well-being, a sense of cohesive identity, and even more positive social functioning (Adler et al., 2016; McLean et al., 2007).

Narrative, Collective Identity, and Social Groups

If personal stories shape individual identity, collective stories – myths, shared histories, and cultural narratives – shape the identity of social groups. In fact, it can be said that a social group is largely the stories it tells about itself: shared narratives provide group members with a sense of belonging, a shared understanding of reality, and justification for the values ​​and norms that guide them.

Social psychology researchers argue that a collective narrative serves as a “meta-narrative” – a super-story that the group adopts – which embodies the group’s beliefs, values, and moral codes regarding social reality. The collective narrative thus serves as a “master plan” that dictates behavioral norms within the group, thus influencing the behavior of group members in a variety of situations.

For example, a national narrative about a "chosen people who suffered persecution and survived" can shape norms of internal solidarity and resilience, while a religious narrative about a "war between the sons of light and the sons of darkness" can justify norms of separatism or even violence against an outgroup. Collective narratives thus define who the "ingroup" and the "others" are from the group's perspective, and what the proper nature of relations between groups is.

They provide group members with a means of understanding their place in the social world: through the shared story, the individual knows what values ​​and goals are “ours” as a group, what the stories of the shared past are (achievements, vulnerabilities, collective victories and defeats), and what the hopes and destinies for the future are.

Recent research emphasizes that collective narratives play a crucial role in driving group behavior – for better or for worse.

A 2022 literature review suggested four distinct functions of collective narratives, depending on their context and effect: an intragroup narrative versus an intergroup narrative, and within each of these two contexts – a consensus-generating narrative and one that provokes controversy (Bliuc & Chidley, 2022). Table 1 summarizes these four types, as emerging from the literature:

Here's the translated table:

Table 1: Types of Collective Narratives by Context and Impact

(Based on Bliuc & Chidley, 2022)

Different narratives can therefore serve as a “glue” that unites group members around common positions, or vice versa – to motivate resistance and intra-group change; in the same way, narratives can serve as a bridge of cooperation between different groups, or alternatively ignite and encourage inter-group conflict.

It is worth noting that a collective narrative does not only reflect social reality, but actively shapes it.

Through the shared narrative, group members not only describe the world, but also justify and establish norms and behaviors. For example, national and historical narratives justify territorial or political claims: a historical story about an injustice done to a particular people may justify a sense of victimhood and hostility toward the traditional "enemy," while a narrative of national heroism may justify personal sacrifice for the homeland.

Research by Liu and Hilton (2005) shows that collective memory of historical events (e.g. wars, revolutions) largely guides the attitudes of groups towards each other in the present – ​​through narrative interpretation of the past. In fact, a contemporary historian has coined the term “Master Narratives” to describe grand cultural stories that provide interpretation of reality and define collective identity (Hammack, 2011).

Such narratives provide a group with a sense of uniqueness: they emphasize how “we” are different from “them” and can even give the group a sense of moral superiority. For example, a study of pro-Russian narratives in the Ukraine conflict (Bliuc & Chidley, 2022) showed how this group adopted a frame story that presented Russia as a morally superior state fighting evil, while delegitimizing the competing narrative.

The adoption of this narrative served to justify acts of violence and reduce moral dissonance: through the story, group members saw themselves as “good” despite their negative actions, and presented the other side as evil to be fought. This example illustrates how a collective narrative can increase polarization: when two groups adopt contradictory and irreconcilable narratives, each group derives from its story not only justification for its positions but also existential meaning for its members.

In such a situation, each side experiences reality completely differently, and it is difficult to bridge the gap in the absence of a shared narrative – a phenomenon that is evident in the current era, for example, in polarized political discussions and opposing perceptions of facts (such as around health or climate crises).

However, collective narratives are not necessarily negative or polarizing; they can sometimes be a positive resource for society.

They can strengthen prosocial action and mutual responsibility. For example, national narratives that emphasize values of mutual aid and unity can contribute to widespread prosocial behavior (such as citizen mobilization during a national disaster).

Theoretical research by Gokhale and colleagues (Gokhale et al., 2022) even suggested that seemingly "absurd" and immoral myths can contribute, for reasons of cultural evolution, to increased cooperation: Their model showed that if a group adopts an arbitrary shared belief (myth), this can align expectations between individuals and thus enable trust and cooperation, even if the myth itself has no moral message.

This is a provocative idea, according to which the very shared belief in a story – whatever its content – functions as an effective tool of social organization.

A historical example is the mythological or religious beliefs of ancient societies: sometimes traditional stories contain descriptions that are not "educational" in terms of morality (such as gods resorting to extreme violence or incest in ancient myths), yet the very collective agreement around those myths contributes to group cohesion and the acceptance of a common set of rules.

The shared story creates a shared reality whose very acceptance by everyone enables social coordination (like a shared social currency of meaning).

It is important to understand that a collective narrative, being the property of many, is also dynamic: it is shaped and changed through a communicative and social process. Group members tell each other the narrative, process and argue about it, and sometimes split over different versions of it.

Collective memory is not static – past events can take on new meaning when the framing narrative changes. For example, an event presented as a “glorious victory” may be presented as a “shared trauma” in a later generation if the national narrative changes due to contemporary circumstances. This process is evident, for example, in post-conflict societies, where new narratives of reconciliation and coexistence attempt to undermine old narratives of hostility.

In these cases, a deliberate attempt was made to create a unifying over-narrative ("over-provider") that would encompass both groups and allow them to cooperate. For example, after the end of apartheid in South Africa, the country's leadership attempted to weave a new collective narrative of "one colored nation" instead of two separate narratives of whites and blacks – including through the Truth and Reconciliation Commission, in which the sharing of the personal stories of victims and victimizers was intended to create a complex but shared national story.

To summarize this section, narrative in social groups functions as a cultural and value glue that holds groups together, but can also serve as fuel for conflict and division. Collective narratives provide shared identity, meaning, and social order by dictating “who we are” and “what we believe” at the group level. They are a kind of social currency of meaning, passed on among group members, making it easier for them to coordinate behaviors and norms.

However, when narratives of different groups clash, the result may be mutual extremism, distrust, and even violence. Understanding the importance of social narratives can, on the one hand, help us predict group behavior in situations of peace or conflict (based on the dominant narrative); on the other hand, it can direct social intervention attempts to change the narrative – with the understanding that changing the story that the group tells itself may lead to a change in the way it relates to other groups or to itself. This insight underlies initiatives in “narrative diplomacy” and intercultural communication, which attempt to construct new stories that unite rather than divisive ones (Coleman, 2019).

An evolutionary perspective: Narrative in humans versus primates

Our ability to tell stories is so well developed that it is easy to think that it has always been part of human nature.

But from an evolutionary perspective, the question arises: how and why did this ability develop? A comparison between humans and other primates – great apes and monkeys – provides important insights. Primates are considered to be highly social animals, maintaining stable groups in which group members know each other. In great apes such as chimpanzees and baboons, group cohesion is maintained mainly through mutual grooming – grooming and social physical care. Grooming serves to strengthen social bonds, reduce tension, and establish alliances within the group.

Studies in comparative anthropology have found that there is a correlation between the size of the brain (and specifically the neocortex) in primates and the size of their average social group. Most primates can only maintain a group of limited size (e.g., about 50 individuals in a chimpanzee tribe), probably because there is a limit to the number of social connections their brains can track.

Most of their social time is devoted to the careful nurturing of each and every relationship – just as Robin Dunbar noted, “It’s hard to cultivate friendship with too many apes, because you have to practically scratch their backs one by one!” (Dunbar, 1996). Dunbar, a British anthropologist, put forward an original hypothesis in 1992: as humans began to live in larger groups throughout evolution, physical grooming became inefficient, because one individual could not “groom” dozens of friends on an ongoing basis – it would have taken too much time.

Therefore, according to Dunbar, evolution found a solution in the form of “vocal nurturing” – initially early versions of simple vocal communication, and later language. Through vocal communication, a person can “nurture” several interlocutors simultaneously and even do so while doing other things, which dramatically increases the scope of the possible network of connections.

Gossip – that is, talking about group members who are not present – was proposed by Dunbar as an important intermediate step: he believed that gossip plays the same role in humans as social grooming in monkeys, allowing the exchange of vital social information (“who cooperates with whom, who is untrustworthy, who needs help,” etc.) without the need for physical contact.

Fascinatingly, Dunbar argued that the structure of language itself suggests that its primary use is narrative: we tell each other stories about people and events, not just relay cold facts. In other words, human language is adapted to convey narratives – it is structured so that we can describe events in the context of characters, plots, and outcomes, not just shout warning signals or territorial calls as we do in the animal world.

Based on the size of the human neocortex, Dunbar predicted that humans would be able to maintain a stable social network of about 150 significant connections on average—a number that came to be known as “Dunbar’s number.” Indeed, in hunter-gatherer societies and traditional communities, many natural groups number around one to two hundred people or less.

Researchers have found recurring occurrences of these numbers throughout human history: about 150 people in a typical Neolithic village, about 150 as members of an effective military unit, and even today – studies of social networks indicate that about 150 is the average number of friends with whom a person maintains continuous contact. Dunbar’s explanation is that language, and especially the ability to tell stories and gossip, allowed humans to maintain group cohesion much larger than that of chimpanzees.

Instead of spending hours each day cuddling, our ancestors could sit around the campfire and tell stories—and thereby strengthen social bonds among dozens of listeners at the same time. Ancient human stories (such as tribal myths) likely served a role in “transmitting norms” and preserving important knowledge.

A fascinating anthropological study examined the role of storytellers in a modern hunter-gatherer society—the Agta tribe in the Philippines. Researchers (Smith et al., 2017) documented the traditional stories told by the Agata people and found that the vast majority of them deal with social norms – cooperation, equality and conflict resolution within the group. For example, one story describes how the sun and the moon fought over who would light the sky, but ultimately shared the task – a story that emphasizes gender equality and cooperation.

Another story tells of a wild boar and a manatee who were good friends and agreed on how to continue competing even after one was injured – which expresses the value of friendship and mutual concern. Thus, through the stories, the younger generation internalizes the rules and values expected in society.

Moreover, this study found a striking correlation between individuals' storytelling skills and their level of cooperation and social success. In hunter-gatherer groups, people who were identified by their tribe as "good storytellers" tended to live in groups that were more cooperative—for example, shared food more equally.

Additionally, people wanted to belong to a group where there were good storytellers – in a thought experiment, members of the Hagata tribe theoretically preferred to join a camp with excellent storytellers over a camp with excellent hunters, suggesting how important storytelling is seen as a social resource (of course, assuming that food is readily available).

And not only that: those who told good stories enjoyed a higher social status and gained a direct evolutionary advantage – they were sought after as social partners, received more help from group members, and even had, on average, more offspring than others.

These findings indicate that storytelling talent was a survival-valued ability: it promoted group cohesion and cooperation, and therefore contributed to the well-being of the group, while at the same time providing advantages to the teller himself (status, more partners, and possibly less chance of being rejected by the group).

In fact, the researchers concluded that one of the key adaptive functions of storytelling was to organize cooperation – to transform a group of egoistic individuals into a cooperative unit through the creation of a shared myth. Thus, storytelling can be considered a “social technology” that allowed humans to overcome problems of coordination and trust when living in large groups. In their words: “Narratives serve as a subtle coordination device that facilitates the emergence of trust and a willingness to cooperate, even in large groups.

These evolutionary conclusions contribute to our understanding of what is special about humans compared to other primates.

While other primates are stuck mostly in the “here and now” of concrete communication (warning calls, emotional expressions, and physical grooming), humans are able to communicate about things that are not physically present: about the past, about the future, about imaginary entities. Our advanced capacity for symbolic representation – language and narrative – has allowed us to share accumulated information with each other: an individual’s knowledge and experience are not lost at death, but continue through their stories.

This is how human culture can progress from generation to generation. Scholars such as Yuval Noah Harari (2014) have suggested that the “linguistic revolution” around 70,000 years ago enabled humans to dominate the world because it allowed them to create shared myths – ideas about things that have no physical existence but that many people believe in (e.g. gods, nations, money). Those myths – themselves shared narratives – enabled cooperation on a much larger scale than any other species.

Chimpanzees may cooperate in groups of dozens, but only humans can organize cooperation of millions around a story (e.g., religion, or national ideology).

Finally, the evolutionary comparison highlights an interesting point: narrative is not a “just an add-on” to the brain, but a capacity deeply embedded in our development. Young children in every culture develop spontaneous narrative understanding – as early as 2–3 years old, toddlers tell themselves simple stories, and are eager to hear stories from their parents.

Developmental psychology suggests that parents naturally process experiences with their children through storytelling (“Remember how you were scared in the dark yesterday? So imagine there was a dragon, and then…”). This narrative mediation teaches the child to see a meaningful sequence in events. This ability develops universally in humans, while a chimpanzee, even if it learns sign language, will not initiate a new story (it may ask for food, state a fact, but not tell about the past or invent an imaginary story).

In this sense, narrative is a uniquely human trait that continues our ancient social wiring, but extends it to vast spaces of imagination and meaning.

The Brain's Narrative Wiring: How Neural Architecture Shapes Information into a Coherent Story

Narratives are the core fabric through which the human brain perceives, organizes, and preserves experiences.

An early array of parietal-temporal areas builds the skeleton of the story from the initial sensory and verbal stimulus, while a secondary network, located in the parahippocampal cortex and anterior frontal areas, integrates the long-term plot details and establishes their meaning.

The default mode network (DMN) acts as a kind of conductor: it runs internal simulations of scenarios, coordinates elements of language, emotion, and memory, and drives neural synchronization between the speaker and listeners. This synchronization, evident in brain imaging, reflects alignment of activity patterns and facilitates shared understanding and the creation of collective memory.

Story encoding is based on close cooperation between the hippocampus, which rapidly recognizes a sequence of events, and the prefrontal cortex, which plans the organization of information and filters out relevant details. After initial embedding, consolidation processes during sleep restore the hippocampal patterns and transfer the material to neocortical networks to create long-term stability.

The amygdala, mediated by emotional arousal, sharpens the imprint of emotionally charged moments, thereby making narrative memories vivid and enduring.

To summarize:

Neural correlates of narrative model building

Neuroscience provides growing empirical evidence for the specific brain networks involved in the complex process of building and maintaining these narrative models:

Default Mode Network (DMN): This prominent network, which includes key regions such as the medial prefrontal cortex (mPFC), posterior cingulate gyrus (PCC)/precuneus, and temporoparietal junction (TPJ), demonstrates consistent activity during tasks involving narrative comprehension, active story generation, and especially during self-reflection and simulation of future events. The DMN is considered essential for the construction and maintenance of abstract "state models" or complex narrative schemas of the world and the self.

Memory systems: The hippocampus and surrounding structures in the medial temporal lobe (MTL) are essential for encoding, consolidating, and retrieving episodic memories—the discrete, personally experienced events that serve as the basic building blocks of our personal narratives. The brain is constantly weaving these personal memories into a coherent, ongoing story that defines our past.

Language networks: While classical language areas, such as Broca's and Wernicke's areas, are intrinsically involved in the linguistic processing of narratives, they interact extensively with the DMN. This interaction is essential for giving meaning, context, and emotional resonance to linguistic structures, and for turning words into compelling stories.

Social cognition networks: The medial prefrontal cortex and TPJ, also integral components of the DMN, are central to “theory of mind” (ToM)—our remarkable ability to infer the mental states, intentions, and beliefs of others. Narratives often revolve around understanding the motivations and social interactions of characters, thereby reinforcing these essential social cognitive models within the brain.

Emotion-Regulating Networks: The amygdala, insula, and their extensive connections to the prefrontal cortex (PFC) are actively engaged when narratives evoke emotions. These regions play a critical role in integrating emotional experiences into our models of events and their personal meaning, ensuring that stories are not just intellectual constructs but deeply felt experiences.

Finally, the brain operates in a hierarchy of time windows: linguistic areas track words and sentences, while associative areas integrate entire plot episodes, creating a dynamic super-image that spans minutes and even hours. This ability allows the reader or listener to process both immediate details and broad contexts, and to sense the unfolding of the story as a single, flowing entity.

Beyond their cognitive impact, as mentioned above, narratives play a crucial social role. They outline a shared identity, guide moral perceptions, and encourage cooperation, but they can also radicalize boundaries between groups. The ability of a story to synchronize minds gives it a persuasive power that is stronger than abstract arguments, because the emotional experience and shared imagination are experienced in real time.

Understanding the mechanisms of storytelling impacts many applied fields: in education—incorporating engaging plots that enhance recall; in psychotherapy—processing personal experiences through structured storytelling contributes to perceptual change and identity restoration; and in artificial intelligence—developing systems capable of generating and understanding natural narratives opens the door to richer human-machine interactions.

Therefore, we emphasize that storytelling is not just a cultural art but a fundamental neural mechanism that bridges perception, emotion, and memory and shapes the way we understand each other and the world around us.

Narrative-Based Approaches and Therapies

The importance of narrative in mental life has led in recent decades to the development of therapeutic approaches and psychological applications built around storytelling.

The central idea is that changing the way a person tells their story – whether to themselves, to a therapist, or to the community – can lead to psychological healing and positive change. This section will review and compare some of these approaches, including Narrative Therapy and Narrative Exposure Therapy. We will also address the use of narrative in group and community interventions.

Narrative therapy is a therapeutic approach developed in the 1980s by Michael White and David Epston in Australia and New Zealand (White & Epston, 1990). This therapy grew out of the postmodern and critical movement in psychotherapy, and is based on the idea that “life is a story” – that is, a person’s psychological reality is defined by the stories they tell about their lives.

The central assumption of narrative therapy is that people are consistently engaged in constructing stories that profoundly influence their perceptions and choices. The story a person tells themselves about themselves, their past, and their problems shapes their experiences: it can direct self-perception, expectations for the future, and patterns of behavior.

Therefore, if the life story that the person holds is limited, negative, or "stuck," the therapy aims to help him "re-author" his story in a freer and more enriching way (White, 1990). At the heart of narrative therapy is the social constructivist perspective: there is no single objective truth about human life, but rather a variety of possible interpretations and narratives, and the goal is to help the patient choose and develop the interpretation (narrative) that best benefits him.

A narrative therapist will encourage the patient to explore their stories and discover repetitive patterns or a "dominant plot" that may be limiting them. One of the key techniques is Externalization: the patient is invited to describe their problems as external characters or forces in the story, rather than as a fixed internal essence of their own. For example, a person who feels that "I am a failure" will learn to see "failure" as an external character appearing in their life story, and thus can begin to fight it or change their attitude towards it.

This disconnects the person's identity from their problem ("The person is always more than their problem"). The therapist then encourages the patient to find "unique outcomes" – exceptions to the dominant negative narrative, moments when things went differently. For example, if a person's story is that "I always fail," the therapist will search with them for memories and events in which they actually succeeded at something or showed strength.

These events become the seeds from which a new, alternative story can grow, one that tells of abilities and coping. This process is called “narrative reconstruction” or “alternative story writing.” Thus, the treatment directs the patient to identify alternative narratives – other versions of his life story – that give space to his strengths, values, and hopes, as opposed to the narrow and problematic narrative that governed him in the past.

For example, a woman struggling with depression may first tell a story that says, "My life is a series of failures and losses"; in narrative therapy, the therapist will help her find small stories about determination, support she received, goals she achieved – and weave them into a new story that says, "Despite the difficulties, I persevered, developed resilience, and relied on important relationships."

This new story can change her self-perception and open up possibilities for action in the future (for example, daring to try new things, following the narrative that she is a person with coping skills). Narrative therapy places great emphasis on language and culture: it is aware that the stories we tell are influenced by the social discourse around us.

Inspired by the thought of Michel Foucault, White and Upston argued that social power relations and cultural scripts dictate to us “absolute stories” about what is good, normal, or desirable—and these stories can suppress unique personal voices. Therefore, narrative therapy sometimes involves “deconstructing” the taken-for-granted narrative and examining its cultural origins: for example, a client who feels like a failure may find that he has uncritically adopted a social narrative that “a successful man must be rich and competitive,” and this narrative causes him suffering because it is inconsistent with his true values (say, cooperation and modesty). The therapist will help him to dismantle this narrative and choose differently.

The effectiveness of narrative therapy has been investigated in a growing number of studies. Reviews suggest that narrative therapy is effective in reducing symptoms of depression and anxiety, improving self-esteem, and improving family and marital functioning. For example, a 2020 meta-analysis (Ribeiro et al.) found that narrative therapy led to significant improvements in depressive symptoms among adults with somatic illnesses (compared to standard care).

Another study showed that narrative therapy improved intimacy and marital satisfaction in couples with communication difficulties. Even in the field of cognitive and identity rehabilitation after brain injuries, there is evidence that narrative techniques (such as encouraging the patient to retell their life story after the injury) help build a new self-identity and promote recovery.

At the same time, it must be admitted that research on narrative therapy is still relatively in its infancy: the approach is young (about 40 years) and its individual nature makes it difficult to conduct large-scale quantitative studies. Indeed, the review literature notes that the fact that there is still an inadequate number of studies makes it difficult to quantify the impact of narrative therapy, in part due to the unique and personalized nature of the intervention.

In other words, the flexible, narrative nature of the therapy makes it difficult to measure like a fixed-dose drug. However, the accumulating evidence is encouraging and suggests great potential.

One of the fascinating applications of narrative principles in psychotherapy is Narrative Exposure Therapy (NET).

Despite the similar name, it is a unique method developed in the 2000s (by Maggie Schauer and Frank Neuber, primarily) specifically for treating complex trauma and post-trauma, often in refugee populations and conflict-affected areas. NET combines principles of trauma-focused exposure therapy with life narrative construction.

In this treatment, which takes place over a number of structured sessions, the patient is asked to tell his life story chronologically from beginning to end, with special focus and expansion on the traumatic episodes.

The therapist guides the patient to "re-expose" (re-experience in memory) the traumatic events in all their emotional intensities, but to do so within the context of the patient's overall life story – with the aim of reducing the intensity of traumatic memories through habituation (getting used to repeated exposure) and at the same time integrating them into a coherent life story. At the end of the process, the patient's complete life story is documented in writing – sometimes as a formal document – and the patient receives it.

The rationale is twofold: first, repeated exposure to the story reduces the frightening power of traumatic memories, similar to other exposure treatments for PTSD, and second, written testimony is obtained that reflects the patient's life, with all the difficult events, but also with the survival and strength he demonstrated, and this can be used to reconstruct his identity. This treatment has proven to be particularly effective in populations that have experienced multiple traumas, such as refugees from war and torture.

Controlled studies have shown that NET resulted in significant reductions in PTSD and depression symptoms compared to standard supportive care (Nosè et al., 2017). The treatment is also suitable for field conditions – for example, practitioners in humanitarian aid organizations have been trained to deliver NET in refugee shelters, with good results.

NET can be seen as a fascinating example of the synergy between narrative and exposure: on the one hand, there is recognition of the importance of the overall story, in giving meaning to trauma through its interweaving in the life story, and on the other hand, the adoption of the effective technique of focused exposure to treat symptoms (such as nightmares and flashbacks).

At this point, it is worth comparing "classic" narrative therapy with narrative exposure therapy and other approaches, in order to clarify differences and common principles.

Table 2 below presents a concise comparison between narrative therapy (NT) and narrative exposure therapy (NET) in several key aspects:

Table 2: Comparison between narrative therapy and narrative exposure therapy

Comparing Narrative Therapy (NT) and Narrative Exposure Therapy (NET)

It is important to emphasize that narrative exposure therapy is not a “subtype” of general narrative therapy, but rather a unique method that integrates narrative ideas within the framework of trauma-focused exposure intervention. However, both therapies share a belief in the healing power of storytelling: one – in the creative power to change the life story, and the other – in the integrative power to process trauma into the life story.

In addition to these two approaches, there are other narrative applications. Narrative family therapy uses family stories to improve communication and change family patterns (for example, family members write a “new chapter” in the family story together to overcome conflict). Life Review Therapy, popular with the elderly, guides the patient to recall and organize their life memories into a coherent story – which helps with coming to terms with the past and reducing depression in old age.

In the field of psychiatric rehabilitation, there are also programs based on narratives of recovery: for example, mental health sufferers are encouraged to write and share their personal "recovery story" – which can strengthen their identity as someone who is bravely coping with their illness and enhance hope (Nurser et al., 2018).

There are also community initiatives such as story circles and community bibliotherapy, in which people tell each other personal stories with a facilitator to create empathetic understanding and build a supportive community. One Israeli study found that sharing mental health recovery narratives in a live group therapy setting contributes to reducing stigma and empowering participants (Hasson-Ohayon et al., 2017).

At the national level, truth and reconciliation commissions (such as in South Africa, Rwanda, Ireland) were based on the principle of sharing personal narratives publicly as a step towards collective healing – with the understanding that a personal story can “give voice” to a silenced experience and enable social processing and empathy.

Alongside the enthusiasm for the therapeutic potential of narratives, there are also challenges and criticisms that are important to note.

Some of these will be discussed in the next section (critical discussion), but let us mention one point here: the measurement of narrative outcomes. While traditional therapies (e.g. cognitive) measure outcomes such as changes in automatic thoughts, narrative therapy asks “Has the patient’s life story changed?” This is a qualitative question that is difficult to quantify. Some tools have been proposed, such as content analysis of patients’ narratives before and after treatment, but there is still no consensus on objective criteria – what constitutes “narrative improvement.”

This is challenging when attempting to frame these approaches within evidence-based frameworks. However, it can be argued that ultimately measures of quality of life, satisfaction, and psychological symptoms also indirectly reflect the success of narrative change, and therefore combining quantitative and qualitative research methods together is a promising way to evaluate such interventions.

Critical Discussion

The idea that life is a narrative and humans are storytellers is very attractive, but it has also been met with criticism and reservations. This section will examine major critics of the “narrative view” in psychology and society, and consider the limitations of the narrative approach in light of the evidence.

First, some philosophers have argued that the view of humans as “narrative creatures” is not necessarily universal.

In 2004, the analytic philosopher Gaylen Strawson published a provocative article called "Against Narrativity" in which he argued that the assumption that everyone organizes their lives as a story is simply wrong. Strawson distinguished between “narrative” and “non-narrative” people: there are people—and Strawson includes himself among them—who do not think of their lives in terms of an ongoing plot, but rather see themselves as a collection of moments or situations that do not naturally connect into a single story. Furthermore, he argued that the assumption that each person must construct a coherent narrative for themselves can be a limiting and harmful ideology.

In his words: "I think it's a lie – a lie that everyone 'tells themselves a story', and a lie that it's always a good thing." Strawson believed that some people "live outside of any story they might be trying to put on them," and that there was no mental defect in this. He even suggested that insisting on seeing life as a story could distort life, because people begin to arrange their memories artificially and may lose their authenticity in trying to construct a story that is too neat.

This criticism, which has resonated, invites the field of narrative psychology to be wary of narrow-mindedness: there may be personality or cultural differences in how people use narrative. For example, studies have shown that Western people tend to emphasize their life story more, while in collectivist Eastern cultures, there may be less emphasis on personal narrative and more on integrating into social harmony.

Hence, it is not correct to assume in a blanket manner that everyone needs a coherent personal narrative per se. Some people may also do well with a less narrative view of their lives, and making narrative a mandatory requirement may impose a foreign way of thinking on them.

Secondly, there is an ethical-critical issue: who controls the narrative? The narrative approach says “tell your story,” but there are situations in which it is difficult for the individual to voice their story or in which society silences certain narratives.

For example, in the context of history and intergroup psychology, minority groups often suffer from having their narrative (of suffering, discrimination, etc.) marginalized by the majority narrative. In such cases, encouraging “tell your story” is not enough – social listening and a willingness on the part of those in power to make room for alternative narratives are also required. Otherwise, narrative therapy or sharing can be frustrating if the story falls on deaf ears.

In a therapeutic context, the therapist also has influence: some argue that narrative therapists may, even unintentionally, steer the patient toward a story that they consider "right" or "positive," thereby imposing a framework on the experience. The therapist must be careful not to become a "super-editor" of the patient's story, but to truly allow the patient to dictate the plot.

Third, the danger of oversimplification. Narrative by its very nature attempts to create logic and order. But real life is not always logical or orderly. When we write a novel, we select events to create a coherent plot; in life, many events are meaningless or mundane. Some argue that every life story is necessarily a simplification of complexity – we forget details, rewrite memories (which are sometimes inaccurate), and create causality even where there could be coincidence.

Thus, a narrative may also include distortions and false memories. Memory psychologists have warned that the very act of retelling a story can “rewrite” memory; for example, in narrative exposure therapy, if one is not careful, a patient can embed incorrect details into their trauma story through guided imagery, and then believe them as truth. This requires caution and maintaining as much accuracy as possible.

A similar criticism comes from trial witness investigators: it has been known since the 1990s that memories can be "planted" or altered in retelling. Therefore, there are arguments that it is not always advisable to encourage people to "make order" if this order will consume them into a rigid and imprecise narrative.

Fourth, the tyranny of the positive narrative. In the age of Instagram culture and inspirational stories, there is immense social pressure to “make lemons into lemonade” – to present every difficult encounter as an inspiring triumph. While this is a nice ideal, not everyone who suffers adversity is able or willing to immediately frame it as a positive story. The constant demand to “show us how you grew from this” can cause further feelings of failure in those who are still hurting and not feeling any growth.

n a study of cancer patients (Tuertscher et al., 2021), for example, some patients said they felt pressure from their environment to "maintain an optimistic warrior narrative," and they felt alone with their fears because the expected story had no room for weakness.

This means that narratives also have norms: society may reward certain narratives (of optimism, heroism, redemption) and discourage others (a story of ongoing victimhood, of despair). This poses a challenge for therapists and audiences – to accept narratives that are not “a Hollywood story with a happy ending,” and not to force the individual to change the story prematurely.

Finally, with regard to narrative therapy, some criticism focuses on empirical evidence. As noted above, the approach is still developing its research base. Some argue that the literature sometimes presents impressive anecdotes and qualitative stories of success, but there is a lack of large-scale randomized controlled trials showing that narrative therapy is superior to or equivalent to established evidence-based treatments such as cognitive behavioral therapy [CBT] for certain problems.

As a result, some traditional clinicians are skeptical about adopting the approach, fearing that it is less focused or too “abstract.” On the other hand, proponents of the approach respond that standard quantitative research simply has difficulty capturing the deep subjective change that narrative change produces, and that lack of proof does not mean lack of effectiveness—that is, that the approach works but crude quantitative tools fail to detect it.

The truth is likely somewhere in the middle: more research is needed, and perhaps connections between the narrative approach and measurable techniques and tools like those we saw in NET will allow it to be examined with conventional tools.

Summary and the future perspectives

Narrative turns out to be a central axis connecting the psychology of the individual and the spirit of society. Through stories, people understand themselves, connect with others, learn from the past, and plan for their future.

Our review demonstrated how, at the personal level, a coherent life story is an important predictor of mental health, a sense of meaning, and a stable identity; at the social level, shared stories create nations, religions, and movements—they can unite or divide, ignite violence, or heal rifts. Evolutionarily, the ability to tell stories also seems to be integral to our success as a species—it has given us an advantage in transferring knowledge and cooperating in large groups.

This understanding has also permeated therapeutic practice: more and more approaches in psychotherapy and rehabilitation see narrative as a tool for change – changing the way a person perceives themselves and their lives, and changing the way a group perceives its place in the world.

However, despite the obvious advantages, it is important not to lose a critical approach. Not every mental problem is necessarily a “bad story” – sometimes there are tangible biological or environmental factors of which the story is only a result.

And not every story is necessarily healing – stories can also fuel hatred (as we have seen in extremist collective narratives) or leave a person stuck in the past. As with any powerful tool, the difference between healing and harm lies in how it is used. The responsibility of professionals, educators and leaders is to foster narrative awareness: to encourage awareness of the stories we live by, to examine them and choose them wisely.

To return to the opening section: narrative is indeed a “lens” through which we see our lives – we must make sure that the lens is not too distorted and that we can switch to a clearer and more flexible lens when needed.

Research in the field of narrative continues to develop in several interesting directions. One of them is the integration of computational and technological tools for narrative analysis – for example, using natural language processing (NLP) to quantify the coherence of narrative text, or apps that help people write a structured narrative diary.

Another direction is the study of narrative in social networks: in an era where millions share life stories online, a huge pool of narratives has been created that can be analyzed, which can shed light on the connection between story and identity in the digital world (as well as on the spread of "viral narratives," such as conspiracy theories, and their impact on mass behavior). In addition, interdisciplinary interest is increasing: psychologists, sociologists, and literary scholars are collaborating to understand how narrative styles (e.g., irony, tragedy, romanticization) influence the experience of life. In the future, we may even see developments in the direction of narrative medicine—the integration of patient stories as a tool in medical diagnosis and treatment (an area that is already beginning to receive attention, especially in the treatment of chronically ill patients).

In conclusion, it seems that the saying "Man is a walking story" still resonates as true, as long as we remember that a story is not static – it develops and changes. We are the writers, but also the readers and critics, of the story of our lives. This recognition, as we have tried to show, is key to a deeper understanding of the soul and society. As the poet Maurice Maeterlinck once wrote: "We do not accept life as it is – we accept life as we tell it to ourselves."

Recognizing the power of storytelling opens up new possibilities for us to narrate ourselves and our world in a way that promotes health, understanding, and cooperation.

Theoretical essay — Hypotheses about the role of narrative in the integrative social self model for mental life and its parts: the primary self and internalized reference groups

Opening premise

Within the framework of the model, the individual's narrative is the interpretive chain that he gives to his experiences. This chain is created in the internal space in which three complexes operate: the board of directors of internalized figures, the internalized enemies’ group, and self-representations.

According to our hypothesis, the writing of the story is mediated by:

The Experience Coordinating Agency (ECA) and the six Individual Sensitivity Channels (ISC)

The Board of Directors of Internalized Characters as a “Master Script Room”

Hypothesis 1.1 The narrative is co-edited by the characters, but the Leader-Self acts as the super-editor: it determines which events will move from raw memory to the “official plot”.

Hypothesis 1.2 The sub-culture representations on the board provide a “dictionary of narrative correctness”: they often guide the leader with their consent which content will fit the group’s values and which will be fenced off. Sometimes these sub-culture representations will even be leaders on the board.

Hypothesis 1.3 Sometimes relatively low-ranking figures on the board may band together to create an alternative subplot. Continued suppression of such marginal voices by the leader may give rise to symptoms, such as addiction, which serves as an “indirect transmission” of the repressed story.

The internalized enemy group as an “archive of threat stories”

Hypothesis 2.1 The enemy group holds less developed and sometimes fragmented narratives – charged memory capsules that have not been integrated into the life story.

Hypothesis 2.2 When the ISC [Threat Channel] is activated very strongly, it is possible that enemy characters may sometimes push their capsules into the plot being created on the board, causing cut-offs or flashbacks.

Hypothesis 2.3 The board typically maintains an impenetrable narrative boundary between itself and the enemies’ group: severe trauma may move a character or characters from the board to the enemy camp or vice versa; therapeutic exposure may return a character exiled from the enemies’ group to the coherent narrative continuum or perhaps, conversely, distance a character from the board to the enemies’ group.

Self-Representations as a Translating Mechanism

Hypothesis 3.1 Each Self-Representation receives a flow of information from the board and may be a sub-editor that translates narrative decisions of the board into the language of subjective experience.

Hypothesis 3.2 Sometimes the gap between self-representation and the official narrative may create dissonance: for example, the leader in a contemporary dialogue with the board presents a position of “successful self” that is projected onto the self-representation, but the self-representation as a sub-editor tries to incorporate a subjective memory of failure – the gap may manifest itself in a social anxiety attack.

Individual Sensitivity Channels (ISC) as an “editorial metronome”

Hypothesis 4.1 Each channel dictates a narrative tone:

The status sensitivity channel emphasizes plots of comparison and achievement in their absence;

The attachment channel draws on stories of closeness and separation;

The routine channel draws on patterns of routine or their absence.

Hypothesis 4.2 Hypersensitivity in a single channel makes it an emotional amplifier; the board will interpret events through its filter while the ECA will influence and attempt to regulate the emotional load.

Hypothesis 4.3 When the ECA detects highlights of a sensitive channel, it activates the Central Executive Network (CEN) to reduce the load, allowing the Default Mode Network (DMN) to incorporate a balancing interpretation.

Characteristics of a healthy versus pathological narrative

Hypothesis 5.1 A healthy narrative is characterized by (a) a flexible board of directors with multiple leaders (b) dialogic coherence, (c) balanced sensitivity channels (d) a flexible boundary between the board of self-representations and the ECA, (e) a boundary that is impenetrable to the enemies’ group, however, it still allows, following mental development, the transition of characters from the enemy group to the board of directors with the consent of the leader or leaders of the board of directors of characters whose perception as enemies has now softened and changed following mental growth.

Hypothesis 5.2 Deviation from one of the sections creates a possible pathology:

It is possible that a leader self on the board of directors will lead to a rigid life story, rigid attitudes and behaviors, and sometimes to a personality disorder; it is possible that an excessively permeable boundary of the board of directors with the enemies’ group will lead to pathology from dissociative narratives to paranoia. It is possible that the takeover of the threat channel will lead to pathology such as anxiety and phobias, etc.

Narrative Change in Reference Group Focused Therapy (RGFT)

Hypothesis 6.1 Effective cognitive emotional rewriting will occur when the therapist inspires a “board meeting” with the patient, and even addresses the “enemies’ group” and “self-representations.” Each character, including enemies, presents their version;

Hypothesis 6.2 Regulating ISC (e.g. through mindfulness or pharmacological intervention) reduces anxiety levels and allows moderate voices on the board to be heard.

Hypothesis 6.3 Embedding a cultural mediator figure – e.g. the “tribal sage” – bridges subcultural dictates with personal needs, allowing for a complete, unscripted story.

Hypothesis 6.4 Implementing the therapist figure on the board with the leader-self’s consent –– mediates between the dictates of the board inspired by the inflexible leader and the dictates of the subculture and personal needs, regulating and enabling a change of the narrative to be more flexible.

Dynamic processes along the time axis

Hypothesis 7.1 Developmental transitions (adolescence, parenthood, retirement) are “editing windows”: the DMN expands, the ISC array is recalibrated, and changes occur in the board of directors and sometimes the boundary between the board of directors and the enemy figure group becomes somewhat permeable to changes in the composition of the internalized groups.

Hypothesis 7.2 A sudden traumatic event may allow an existing internalized enemy figure or a new internalized one related to the traumatic event to enter the board of directors.

Summary

The narrative in this model is co-written by the board of characters, the enemies’ group, and self-representations, under the overall direction of the Experience Coordinating Agency (ECA) and according to the strength of the Individual Sensitivity Channels (ISC).

When editing is pluralistic, boundaries are flexible, and the ISC is balanced, the story that the person lives is rich, flexible, and reflects a stable identity.

On the other hand, when a single character or a single channel of sensitivity takes over, an inflexible, sometimes tyrannical story is obtained, and the gates of mental suffering open.

Hence the call: through RGFT, strengthen pluralism on the board of directors, open a wider space for dialogue, soften tyrannical narratives, change rigid hierarchies to more moderate ones, on some cases include marginalized characters, and regulate dominating channels of sensitivity – thus creating a richer and more enriching narrative.

Using constructing narratives to understand events and predict future outcomes

One theoretical framework in neuroscience for how we perceive the external world is called "predictive processing theory (PPT)".

While Hermann von Helmholtz (1821-1894) introduced the idea of ​​"unconscious inference" and argued that perception involves the brain's best guess about sensory input based on past experience, the modern, mathematically precise prediction-processing framework is most directly associated with Carl Friston [via predictive coding and the free energy principle] and has been given broader cognitive significance by thinkers such as Andy Clark.

So, instead of basing our actions solely on sensory input, the idea behind predictive processing is that our brains make predictions about what will happen around us and use them to control what we do. When these predictions go wrong—when what happens doesn’t match our brain’s predictions—our behavior adjusts.

One advantage of predictive processing is that the brain does not need to represent all incoming sensory information in detail; instead, it only transmits the prediction errors, providing a more efficient means of encoding changes from the external environment. This term, which expresses the "predictive brain," describes one of the most relevant concepts in cognitive neuroscience that emphasizes the importance of "looking ahead," that is, predicting, preparing, anticipating, or anticipating in various cognitive domains.

Analogously, it has been suggested that predictive processing represents one of the fundamental principles of neural computation and that, as suggested by the literature, prediction errors may be essential for driving neural and cognitive processes as well as behavior.

As noted above, our reality is not just absorbed; it is actively constructed. The human brain, tirelessly searching for patterns and creating meaning, uses a basic cognitive tool to achieve this: narrative construction.

From the personal stories we tell ourselves to the great myths that shape cultures and the scientific explanations that define our understanding of the universe, narratives provide a coherent framework for organizing diverse experiences, understanding events, and predicting future outcomes. This article examines how the brain uses narrative as a primary mechanism for constructing and updating internal models of reality, drawing parallels to principles of encoding and prediction.

Narratives as Hierarchical Internal Models

Just as the influential theory of predictive coding posits that the brain operates through hierarchical internal models for sensory prediction, narratives serve as high-level dynamic internal models for understanding sequences of events, discerning causality, and navigating complex social interactions:

Top-down structure: Narrative by its very nature provides a top-down structure—composed of elements such as plot, characters, goals, conflicts, and resolutions—that the brain leverages to interpret and organize incoming information. It functions as a “primary narrative” or “story template,” profoundly shaping how we perceive, process, and retain our experiences.

Multimodal data integration: Narratives have a unique ability to integrate information across diverse sensory and cognitive domains. They seamlessly weave together sensory experiences, emotional states, subtle social cues, deep personal memories, and abstract conceptual understandings. This multimodal synthesis allows the brain to form a richer, more context-sensitive model of reality, where fragmented data coalesce into a cohesive story.

Predictive framework: A crucial, often overlooked, aspect of how narratives serve as brain models lies in their predictive power. By constructing past and present events, each narrative implicitly or explicitly establishes expectations and predictions about what is likely to happen next. They are not simply retrospective summaries; instead, they are active cognitive tools for predicting future states of the world and dynamically guiding our actions within it.

For example, our personal narratives about relationships pre-condition us to expect certain responses from others, influencing how we prepare for and engage in social interactions.

Narrative Construction and Principles of Predictive Coding

The dynamic process of constructing, refining, and changing narratives aligns seamlessly with the core mechanisms elucidated by predictive coding theory:

Creating Predictions: Our existing internal narratives—our evolving “life story,” our ingrained understanding of social norms, and the cultural scripts we adopt—constantly generate predictions about how events will unfold and how others will behave. Based on past interactions encoded within these narratives, our brains predict, for example, the likely course of a conversation or the emotional response of a colleague.

Identifying prediction errors: When actual experiences or social interactions significantly deviate from narrative-based predictions, a prediction error occurs. This “surprise” signal is not just a cognitive error; it critically indicates that our current narrative model is inadequate, inaccurate, or incomplete.

A vivid example of this is when a friend whose past interactions with you have consistently reflected warmth suddenly seems distant; this creates a strong prediction error, signaling a fundamental mismatch with your preconceived narrative about that friendship.

Narrative updating (model correction): In response to such prediction errors, the brain actively works to minimize the discrepancy by updating its internal narrative. This iterative process can manifest itself in several ways:

Current Scene Correction: Adjusting the immediate interpretation of the unexpected event to incorporate the new information.

Reappraisal of Past Events: Critically reinterpreting previous experiences to align with the new information, a process that can lead to a profound "retelling" or reframing of one's personal history.

Changing long-term schemas/beliefs: If prediction errors are consistent, robust, and carry significant salience, they can trigger a reappraisal and reorganization of deeply held core beliefs about oneself, others, or the very nature of the world. This represents a fundamental revision to the underlying generative models that produce these narratives.

Narrative accuracy and salience: The emotional and personal salience—or “accuracy”—attributed to a narrative greatly influences how easily it is processed and how strongly it encourages the updating of our internal models. Emotionally resonant stories or personally meaningful experiences produce highly accurate prediction errors, which in turn lead to stronger model correction, the formation of stronger neural traces, and enhanced memory consolidation.

Active Inference Through Narrative: We are not passive recipients of narratives; instead, we are active constructors of them, and critically, we actively influence them through our actions. Our choices and behaviors in the world are often deliberate attempts to bring about expected (or desired) narrative outcomes, or to actively gather information that will help us refine and improve our existing narratives.

This active engagement further strengthens the dynamic loop between our internal models and the external world.

Conclusion: Narratives as Dynamic Reality Builders

Essentially, narrative construction is not just a byproduct of human thought; it is the way our brains continually construct and refine their internal models of reality. Far from being static blueprints, these models are dynamic, evolving stories that empower us:

Organizing information: transforming chaotic and disparate sensory input into coherent, causally related, and meaningful sequences.

Understanding causality: Providing a framework for explaining why events occur and discerning the complex interrelationships between them.

Predicting the future: Allows us to anticipate outcomes, project ourselves into future scenarios, and strategically guide our actions based on these predictions.

Navigating the social world: Facilitating a deeper understanding of ourselves and others within the complex web of social dynamics, enabling more effective and empathetic interactions.

Making sense of ourselves: Helping us to form a coherent and evolving identity, integrate our personal history, and find meaning in our life experiences.

Crucially, when these narratives become rigid, distorted, or maladaptive, therapies such as Reference Group Focused Therapy (RGFT) can lead to the transformation of dysfunctional “prediction machines” that perpetuate distress, through the transformative power of dialogues with key figures from the internalized groups who contribute to the construction of narratives and address the channels of sensitivity while creating new and corrective narratives and experiences that alleviate the prediction errors.

This process empowers people to dismantle limiting stories and construct more flexible, accurate, and ultimately, more empowering narratives of their reality, reducing prediction errors while fostering profound psychological change and healthier engagement with the world.

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That's it for now,

Yours,

Dr. Igor Salganik and Prof. Joseph Levine