Chapter 4. Part B
Aronson was Festinger's student, who went on to win much acclaim in
his own right. What they both worked on the most was cognitive dissonance
theory. Cognitive dissonance theory says something fairly simple, but its
consequences are profound and far-reaching. Basically, it says that the inclination
of our human minds is always toward finding what sound like good reasons for
doing what we want to do anyway, and even more vigorously argued reasons for
the things we've already done. (See Aronson's "The Social Animal".)
(1.)
What it says
essentially is this: a human organism tends, actively, insistently, and
insidiously, to think and act so as to perceive and affirm itself as being
consistent with itself. The mind shows in every action that it directs the body
to do, and especially in every phrase that it directs the body to utter, the
desire to remain consistent with itself. In practice, what this means is that
humans tend to find and state what appear to themselves to be good reasons for
doing what they will have to do anyway in order to maintain the conditions of life
with which they have become comfortable. The mind strives constantly inside the
individual human brain to make theory match practice or practice match theory –
or to adjust both – in order to reduce its own internal "clashing", i.e.
what psychologists call "cognitive dissonance".
The novice
investment counselor who used to speak disparagingly of all sales jobs will
soon be able to tell you with heartfelt sincerity why every person, including you,
ought to have a carefully selected portfolio of stocks. The physician adds
another bank of expensive tests and therapies – both of doubtful effectiveness
– every year or so to his repertoire. The plastic surgeon can show with
argument and evidence that all of the cosmetic procedures he performs should be
covered by the state's health care plan because his patients aren’t spoiled and
vain, they are "aesthetically handicapped".
The divorce lawyer is not setting two
people who used to love one another at each other's throats. He is merely
vigorously defending his client's best interests, while his client's misery and
despair – at the depths of cruelty to which he and his former spouse have sunk
– grow more profound every week. The cigarette company executive not only finds
what he truly believes are fundamental flaws in the research; he smokes over
two packs a day. The general does indeed send his own son to the front. Even
his mother-in-law's decent qualities (not her rude ones) become more obvious to
him on the day on which he learns that she owns over ten million dollars worth
of real estate. (All that worry! No wonder she’s rude.)
And the Philosophy professor, whose mind
is trained to seek out inconsistencies? He once said that he believed in the
primacy of the rights of the individual citizen over any group rights. He
sought to abolish any taxes that might be used to pay for social services. Private
charities could do such work, if it needed to be done at all. But then his daughter,
who suffers from bipolar disorder, sometimes secretly goes off her medications,
and periodically runs away from all forms of care, no matter how loving, ran
off and became one of the homeless in the streets of a distant city. She was
spotted and saved from almost certain death by alert street workers, paid
(meagerly) by the state government. Now he argues for the responsibility of
citizens to pay taxes that can be used to create social welfare programs and to
hire workers whose job it is to look out for, and to look after, the destitute
and unfortunate in society.
He once considered euthanasia to be
totally immoral. But now his aging dad with Alzheimer's disease has been
deteriorating for over five years. Professor X is broke, sick, and exhausted himself.
He longs for the heart-ache to be over. He knows that he cannot keep caring
personally, day in and day out, for the needs of this now unrecognizable,
pathetic, gnarled creature for very much longer. Even Dad, the Dad he once
knew, would have agreed. Dad needs and deserves a gentle needle. Professor X is
certain of it, and he tells his grad students and colleagues so during their
quiet, confidential moments.
Do we, in our endlessly subtle rationalizations, see what is not there?
Not really. Out of the billions of sense details, the googuls of patterns that
we might see among them, and the near infinite numbers of interpretations that
we might give to those details, we tend to give prominence in our minds to
those that are consistent with the view of ourselves and our way of life that
we find psychologically most comforting. We don't like seeing ourselves as
hypocrites. We don't like living with nagging feelings of anxiety (cognitive
dissonance). Therefore, we tend to favor, and be drawn to, ways of thinking,
speaking, and acting that will reduce that dissonance, especially in our internal
pictures of ourselves. In private, inside our heads, we need to like ourselves.
There is nothing
really profound being said so far. But when we come to applying this theory to
philosophies, the implications are a little startling.
Other than
rationalizations, the rationalists have nothing to offer.
Notes
1. Aronson, Elliot;
"The Social Animal", pp. 99 to 106;
W.H. Freeman and Company; 1972,
1976, 1980.
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