The Hard Problem of Influence

The hard problem of influence is perhaps one of the most ambiguous ideas I have ever contemplated.

 And it may well remain ambiguous to the reader—because the term itself, “the hard problem of influence,” is my own invention. This problem began to surface not when I was learning philosophy and science, but when I started explaining them. During those moments of explanation, I would often hear remarks such as: “You opened my eyes,” “No one has ever explained this better,” or even “You changed me.” These comments, while amusing, also stirred something deeper within me. They pushed me to reflect—not just on what I was saying, but on what was truly happening when someone claimed they were “influenced.”

 

Influence 

But the real puzzle began when I noticed myself becoming influenced—by my teachers, public speakers, and others who spoke of growth, empowerment, and purpose. This prompted a fundamental question: What does it really mean to be influenced? I posed this question to many. None of their answers satisfied me—until one unexpected moment of clarity.

This morning, while listening to a lecture on the Prathamāvṛtti of Pāṇini’s Aṣṭādhyāyī, I experienced something unusual. The teacher, while explaining in Sanskrit—a language I understand—was perfectly clear. But midway through the lecture, he switched to Malayalam, a language I do not know. Instantly, I was lost. Not a single word made sense, despite the continuity of the speaker and topic. That moment revealed something important to me: To understand anything, one must already possess the language—the inner structure or logic—through which meaning is received.

In philosophical terms, I realized: 

To be influenced, one must already possess the logos. That is, there must be an innate correspondence—a prior structure of thought, intuition, or readiness—already present within the listener. Without it, no communication, no “influence,” is possible. If we adopt this new definition, the common belief that “to take motivation from others is to be influenced” becomes highly problematic.

Why? Because if you lack the inner logos—if the required inner framework is absent—no amount of motivation or persuasion will ever reach you. To further explain, let us consider the brain. Broadly, its functions can be categorized into three domains:

1. Cognition – the capacity to think, analyze, and process;
2. Generation – the ability to create, imagine, or intuit;
3. Replication – the learning and reproduction of behaviors based on past experiences.

Of these, it is the generative function that most closely reflects our innate nature—the creative wellspring that produces insights independently of external input. The replicative function, on the other hand, depends entirely on empirical data—what is observed, taught, or conditioned. Scientific studies even suggest that certain predictions—such as catching a ball—require a kind of innate foresight before the mind can rationally process the motion. The body acts as if it “knows” the future trajectory even before conscious understanding arises. This shows that some understanding precedes experience.

Now, how does this connect to the hard problem of influence?

Quite simply: 

No one can truly give anything to anyone. A person can only speak in the language of the other’s existing logos. At best, influence is an illusion—a shared mirage between speaker and listener, where the listener believes transformation is occurring through external force, while in truth, the transformation is evoked from within. 

Of course, this view invites criticism.

One may argue that this definition reduces the rich complexity of influence to a mere inner monologue. That it ignores the emotional, cultural, and dialogical aspects of communication—how meaning is co-created, how love, pain, art, and shared memory influence our becoming. Others might point out that my example—the incomprehension of Malayalam—only illustrates the importance of linguistic familiarity, not the metaphysical basis of influence.

Additionally, critics might say that the neurological distinctions I draw between brain functions are simplistic, and tailored to support my argument rather than reflect current cognitive science. And perhaps the most serious objection is that my theory treads close to solipsism—the belief that we are trapped within our own minds, incapable of being truly reached or changed by another.

But Consider This

These criticisms are valid—but they fail to address a deeper truth. 

Take a seed, for example. A seed already contains the complete potential of the tree. Sunlight is essential, yes—but only to activate what is already present. Sunlight cannot turn an apple seed into an orange tree. It cannot insert an external blueprint. The apple was always there. So too with influence. The so-called "influencer" can at best act as sunlight—but only if the seed is capable of becoming. You cannot influence a rock into becoming a tree. But you can help a seed grow—because the capacity already resides within it.

Hence, we must revise our idea of influence.

To believe that we are easily influenced is to misunderstand ourselves. Influence is not something that happens to us from the outside—it is a recognition, a reawakening of what already lies within. So if you find yourself “influenced” by your physics teacher and you start loving physics, don’t credit the teacher alone. Understand that this love for physics was already yours—the teacher only revealed it to you in your own language. Yes, we should remain cautious of harmful influences. But the solution is not fear or suppression—it is awareness. Build a schema that distinguishes between influences that resonate with your inner logos, and those that merely impose.

Remember: Two students may attend the same lecture, listen with equal attention, and yet absorb entirely different things. What makes the difference? Not the teacher. Not the topic. But the logos within.

To be influenced is to remember. To be changed is to awaken. What you receive is not from others—but from yourself, through others.

And so I say: Influence is a myth.

Not because no one ever changes—but because what we call “influence” is merely the unfolding of what was always waiting to emerge.