Dilip Jeste with Scott LaFee – Wiser: Book Review & Audio Summary

Book Info

• Book name: Wiser: The Scientific Roots of Wisdom, Compassion, and What Makes Us Good
• Author: Dilip Jeste, Scott LaFee
• Genre: Science & Technology, Social Sciences & Humanities (Psychology, Philosophy, Sociology), Self-Help & Personal Development
• Published Year: 2020
• Publisher: Sounds True
• Language: English

Audio Summary

Synopsis

In “Wiser,” renowned psychiatrist Dilip Jeste teams up with science writer Scott LaFee to explore what wisdom really means from a scientific perspective. Moving beyond vague definitions, they examine the neurological foundations of wisdom, identifying key components like compassion, emotional regulation, and self-awareness. Through cutting-edge neuroscience research, the authors reveal how our brains change as we age, why some people become wiser than others, and most importantly, how we can actively cultivate wisdom at any age. This accessible yet scientifically rigorous book bridges ancient philosophical concepts with modern brain science, offering practical strategies for developing the wisdom we all admire in others.

Key Takeaways

• Wisdom has measurable biological roots in brain structures like the prefrontal cortex and amygdala, which change as we age in ways that can enhance emotional stability and compassion
• Unlike pure intelligence, wisdom includes prosocial traits like empathy and concern for others, which can be strengthened through practices like reading and mindfulness
• Emotional regulation—experiencing emotions fully while maintaining stability—is a cornerstone of wisdom that distinguishes it from cold rationality
• Wisdom isn’t just for the elderly; younger people can actively develop wisdom through intentional practices and understanding how their brains work
• Mirror neurons play a crucial role in empathy, and activities that engage these neural pathways can enhance our capacity for understanding others

My Summary

What I Discovered About the Science of Wisdom

When I picked up “Wiser” by Dilip Jeste and Scott LaFee, I’ll admit I was skeptical. Another book promising to unlock ancient secrets? But what I found was refreshingly different—a scientifically grounded exploration of what wisdom actually means and how our brains create it. As someone who’s read countless self-help books for Books4soul.com, I can tell you this one stands apart by grounding its claims in neuroscience research rather than motivational platitudes.

Jeste, a distinguished geriatric psychiatrist at UC San Diego, brings decades of clinical experience and research to the table. His collaboration with science writer Scott LaFee results in a book that’s both accessible and intellectually rigorous. They tackle a question that’s bothered philosophers for millennia: What exactly makes someone wise? And more importantly, can the rest of us become wiser?

The Brain Science Behind Growing Wiser

One of the most fascinating revelations in this book is how wisdom connects to specific brain structures. We’ve all noticed that wisdom seems to come with age—think of every mentor figure from Gandalf to your grandmother—but Jeste explains the biological reasons behind this pattern.

The amygdala, those almond-shaped structures deep in our brains, are essentially our emotional alarm systems. They light up when we encounter threats, stress, or upsetting information. But here’s what I found remarkable: as we age, our amygdalae become less reactive to negative stimuli. We literally become less bothered by the small stuff. At the same time, older adults remain just as responsive to positive stimuli—a baby’s smile still brings joy.

This asymmetric change creates what researchers call a “positivity bias” in older adults. It’s not that they’re ignoring problems or living in denial. Rather, their brains have recalibrated to maintain emotional equilibrium more effectively. As someone in my forties, I found this both reassuring and motivating—there’s neurological hope for those of us still prone to overreacting to minor frustrations.

The prefrontal cortex (PFC) is the other star player in Jeste’s explanation of wisdom. Located right behind your forehead, this region handles executive functions, emotional regulation, and crucially, our capacity for empathy and altruism. As we age, brain activity shifts forward, toward the PFC, enhancing these wisdom-related capabilities.

What struck me most was how this isn’t just theoretical neuroscience. Jeste and his team have conducted extensive research mapping these brain changes to measurable increases in wisdom-related behaviors. They’ve developed scales to quantify wisdom, looking at factors like emotional regulation, self-reflection, decisiveness, and social cooperation. This empirical approach transforms wisdom from a fuzzy philosophical concept into something we can actually study and cultivate.

Why Wisdom Isn’t Just Intelligence With Gray Hair

I’ve known plenty of brilliant people who weren’t particularly wise. You probably have too—the genius colleague who can’t read a room, or the straight-A student who makes terrible life decisions. Jeste dedicates significant attention to distinguishing wisdom from intelligence, and this distinction matters.

Intelligence involves cognitive abilities like memory, processing speed, and problem-solving. You can measure it with IQ tests. Wisdom, however, includes these cognitive elements but adds something crucial: prosocial concern. Wise people don’t just make good decisions for themselves; they consider the welfare of others. They’re compassionate, cooperative, and altruistic.

This prosocial dimension isn’t just nice to have—it’s fundamental to wisdom across cultures. Jeste references ancient Greek writers like Euripides, who wrote about how good people must suffer when they see others hurt. This recognition of our interconnectedness appears in wisdom traditions worldwide, from Buddhist compassion to African ubuntu philosophy.

The biological mechanism behind this empathy involves mirror neurons, which I’d heard about but never fully understood until reading this book. These neurons fire both when we perform an action and when we observe someone else performing it. They’re why you might wince when watching someone stub their toe, or why thriller movies make your heart race.

What I found particularly interesting was Jeste’s discussion of gender differences in mirror neuron activity. Research suggests women tend to have more active mirror neuron systems, leading to greater unconscious mimicry of others’ emotional expressions. A 1995 Scandinavian study showed women naturally imitate facial expressions more than men do.

But before anyone concludes that wisdom is gendered, Jeste emphasizes that empathy and compassion are trainable. The brain’s plasticity means we can strengthen these neural pathways through practice. One evidence-based method? Reading fiction. Studies show that habitual readers develop stronger theory of mind—the ability to understand that others have different thoughts, feelings, and perspectives than our own.

As a book blogger, this finding particularly resonated with me. I’ve always felt that reading made me more understanding of different viewpoints, but seeing the neuroscience behind it validated that intuition. When we read novels, we’re essentially practicing empathy, using the same neural networks we employ in real-world social interactions.

Emotional Regulation: The Wisdom Sweet Spot

One misconception about wisdom that Jeste firmly corrects is the idea that wise people are emotionless or purely rational. Think of Star Trek’s Spock, with his cold logic and suppressed feelings. That’s not wisdom—that’s emotional avoidance.

True emotional wisdom involves experiencing the full range of human emotions while maintaining stability. It’s not about eliminating negative emotions but rather not being overwhelmed or controlled by them. Wise people feel anger, sadness, and fear, but these emotions don’t hijack their decision-making or relationships.

This concept of emotional regulation hit home for me. In my younger years, I mistakenly thought maturity meant not getting upset. I’d try to suppress frustration or disappointment, thinking that’s what “being professional” or “staying positive” meant. But Jeste’s research suggests this approach is counterproductive.

The key is what psychologists call “emotional granularity”—the ability to identify and name specific emotions with precision. Instead of just feeling “bad,” wise people might recognize they’re feeling disappointed about a specific outcome, anxious about an upcoming challenge, and slightly irritated by a minor inconvenience. This specificity allows for more targeted and effective responses.

Jeste discusses various practices that enhance emotional regulation, from mindfulness meditation to cognitive reframing. What I appreciated was his evidence-based approach—he doesn’t just recommend these practices because they sound good, but because research demonstrates their effectiveness in changing brain function and structure.

Practical Applications for Everyday Wisdom

Theory is great, but I’m always looking for practical takeaways in the books I review. “Wiser” delivers several actionable strategies for cultivating wisdom, grounded in the neuroscience discussed earlier.

First, practice perspective-taking deliberately. When you’re in conflict with someone, pause and try to articulate their viewpoint as charitably as possible. This isn’t about agreeing with them, but about exercising your empathy muscles. I’ve started doing this in my own life, particularly when reading book reviews that disagree with my assessments. Instead of dismissing them, I try to understand what the reviewer values and how the book might have landed differently for them.

Second, engage with diverse narratives. Reading fiction from different cultures, time periods, and perspectives literally rewires your brain for greater empathy. Since implementing this more intentionally, I’ve made a point of including more international literature and voices different from my own in my reading rotation. The effect has been subtle but real—I find myself more curious about unfamiliar perspectives rather than defensive.

Third, develop emotional vocabulary. Jeste recommends expanding your ability to name emotions precisely. Instead of “I’m stressed,” try identifying whether you’re overwhelmed, anxious, frustrated, or exhausted. Each of these suggests different responses. I’ve found this particularly helpful in my writing—being more precise about emotional states makes my book reviews more nuanced and helpful to readers.

Fourth, cultivate what Jeste calls “pro-aging” attitudes. Our culture often views aging as pure decline, but the neuroscience shows that important capabilities—including wisdom-related functions—can actually improve with age. Challenging ageist assumptions, both about others and yourself, creates space for continued growth.

Fifth, practice self-reflection without self-absorption. Wise people understand their own biases and limitations, but they don’t get stuck in endless navel-gazing. Jeste recommends brief, structured reflection practices—perhaps journaling for ten minutes about what you learned from a challenging interaction, then moving on.

Where the Book Could Go Deeper

While I found “Wiser” valuable, it’s not without limitations. The book sometimes feels like it’s trying to cover too much ground, touching on neuroscience, psychology, philosophy, and practical advice without fully developing any single thread. Readers looking for a comprehensive neuroscience textbook or a detailed wisdom-cultivation program might find it somewhat superficial in places.

Additionally, some of Jeste’s personal anecdotes, while humanizing, occasionally distract from the scientific narrative. I would have appreciated more case studies from his clinical work and less about his own life experiences. That said, I understand the impulse—personal stories make scientific concepts more relatable.

The book also focuses heavily on individual wisdom development without adequately addressing systemic and cultural factors. How do we build wiser institutions, communities, and societies? Jeste touches on this briefly, but it deserves more attention, especially given his emphasis on wisdom’s prosocial dimensions.

Finally, while the research Jeste cites is compelling, much of it comes from his own lab. This isn’t necessarily problematic—he’s a leading researcher in this field—but I would have liked to see more engagement with alternative perspectives and potential contradictions in the broader literature.

How “Wiser” Compares to Similar Books

In the landscape of books about wisdom and human flourishing, “Wiser” occupies an interesting niche. It’s more scientifically rigorous than typical self-help books like Ryan Holiday’s “The Daily Stoic,” which draws on ancient philosophy without much empirical backing. At the same time, it’s more accessible than academic texts like Robert Sternberg’s “Wisdom: Its Nature, Origins, and Development.”

The book that comes closest in approach is Daniel Goleman’s “Emotional Intelligence,” which similarly bridges neuroscience and practical application. However, Jeste’s focus on wisdom as distinct from emotional intelligence offers fresh insights. While emotional intelligence emphasizes recognizing and managing emotions, wisdom adds layers of perspective-taking, acceptance of uncertainty, and concern for collective welfare.

For readers interested in the neuroscience of aging specifically, I’d also recommend Barbara Strauch’s “The Secret Life of the Grown-Up Brain,” which covers similar territory about how our brains improve in certain ways as we age. Together, these books paint an optimistic, evidence-based picture of human development across the lifespan.

Questions Worth Pondering

Jeste’s work raises fascinating questions that extend beyond the book itself. One that’s stuck with me: If wisdom has biological roots that typically develop with age, how should we structure our societies differently? Should we rethink mandatory retirement ages? How might we better leverage the wisdom of older adults while still creating opportunities for younger people?

Another question: Can we accelerate wisdom development through targeted interventions, or is there something valuable about the slow accumulation of life experience? The book suggests both factors matter, but the balance between them remains unclear.

I’m also curious about wisdom in the digital age. Jeste’s research was conducted before the full impact of social media and AI on human cognition became apparent. How do these technologies affect our capacity for the reflection, empathy, and emotional regulation that wisdom requires? Do they enhance our ability to access diverse perspectives, or do they fragment our attention and reduce our capacity for deep understanding?

Final Thoughts From My Reading Chair

“Wiser” ultimately succeeds in demystifying wisdom without diminishing its value. By showing that wisdom has identifiable neural correlates and can be cultivated through specific practices, Jeste makes it accessible to anyone willing to do the work. This is empowering—we’re not just waiting passively for wisdom to arrive with gray hair.

What I appreciate most is how the book balances scientific rigor with human warmth. Jeste clearly cares deeply about helping people live better, wiser lives, and that compassion—itself a component of wisdom—shines through the writing.

For readers of Books4soul.com, I think this book offers particular value if you’re interested in personal development grounded in science rather than speculation. It’s not a quick-fix manual promising wisdom in thirty days, but rather a thoughtful exploration of what wisdom means and how we might cultivate it over a lifetime.

I’d love to hear your thoughts on this. Who are the wisest people in your life, and what makes them stand out? Have you noticed your own capacity for wisdom changing as you’ve aged? Drop a comment below and let’s continue this conversation—after all, discussing wisdom with others is itself a practice in perspective-taking and collective understanding.