Chapter 4. (continued)
Now rationalism’s
really disturbing implications start to occur to us. Wouldn’t I love to believe
that there is some hidden dimension in which the forms exist, perfect and
eternal? Of course I would. Then I would know that I was “right.” Then I and a
few simpatico acquaintances might agree among ourselves that we were the only
people truly capable of perceiving the finer things in life or of recognizing
which are the truly moral acts. Our training and natural gifts would have
sensitized us to be able to detect the beautiful and the good. For us to
persuade the ignorant masses would be only rational; considering their incapacity
to figure things out—it would be an act of mercy.
This
view is not just theoretically possible. It was the view of some of the disciples
of G.E. Moore almost a century ago and, even more blatantly, of some of the
followers of Herbert Spencer a generation before that. (Accessible explanations
of the views of Moore and Spencer can be found in Wikipedia articles online.3,4)
G.E. Moore.
Herbert Spencer.
I am
being sarcastic about the sensitivity of Moore and Spencer’s followers, of
course. Both my studies and my experience of the world tell me there are more
than a few of these kinds of sensitive aristocrats roving around in today’s
world, in every land (the neocons of the West?). We underestimate them at our
peril. The worst among them don’t like democracy. They yearn to be in charge,
they have the brains to secure positions of authority, and they have the
capacity for lifelong fixation on a single goal. Further, they have the ability
to rationalize their way into truly believing that harsh and duplicitous
measures are sometimes needed to keep order among the ignorant masses—that is, everyone
else.
My conclusion
was that rationalism was far too often a close companion of totalitarianism.
The reason did not become clear to me until my thirties, when I learned about
cognitive dissonance and finally figured the puzzle out. I now see how inclined
toward rationalization other people are and how easily, even insidiously, they
give in to it. On what grounds can we tell ourselves that we are above this
very human weakness? Should we tell ourselves that our minds are somehow more
aesthetically and morally aware or more disciplined, and are therefore immune
to such self-delusions? I am aware of no logical grounds for that kind of
conclusion about myself or anyone else I have met or whose works I have read.
In
addition, evidence revealing this capacity for rationalization in human minds—some
of the most brilliant of human minds—litters history. How could Pierre Duhem,
the brilliant French philosopher, have written off relativity theory just
because a German proposed it? (In 1905, Einstein was considered, and considered
himself, a German.) How could Martin Heidegger or Werner Heisenberg have
endorsed the Nazis’ propaganda? The Führer principle; German science yet! Ezra
Pound, arguably the best literary mind of his time, on Italian radio defending
the Fascists. Decent people today recoil and even despair.
George Bernard Shaw.
Jean-Paul Sartre.
How
could George Bernard Shaw or Jean-Paul Sartre have become apologists for
Stalinism? So many geniuses and brilliant minds of the academic, scientific,
and artistic realms fell into this trap that one wonders how they could have
made such mistakes in their practical, everyday realm. Once we understand how
cognitive dissonance reduction works, the answer is painfully obvious.
Brilliant thinkers are just as brilliant at self-comforting thinking—namely,
rationalizing—as they are at clear, critical thinking. And the most brilliant
specious terms and fallacious arguments they construct—that is, the most
convincing lies they tell—are the ones they tell themselves.
The
most plausible, cautious, and responsible reasoning I can apply to myself leads
me to conclude that the ability to reason skilfully in abstract, formal terms guarantees
nothing in the realm of practical affairs. Brilliance with formal thinking
systems has been just as quick to advocate for totalitarianism and tyranny as
it has for pluralism and democracy. If we want to survive, we need to work out
a moral code that counters at least the worst excesses of the human flaw called
rationalization, especially the forms found in the most intelligent of humans.
Rationalism
appears to be a regular precursor to intolerance. Rationalism in one stealthy
form or another has too often been a dangerous and even pathological affliction
of human minds. The whole design of democracy is intended to remedy, or at
least attenuate, this flaw in human thinking. In a democracy, decisions for the
whole community are arrived at by a process that combines the carefully sifted
wisdom and experience of all, backed up by references to observable evidence
and a process of deliberate, open, cooperative decision making. One of the main
intentions of the democratic model is to handle secret groups. For example, in
the subculture of democracy called science, no theory gets accepted until it
has been tested repeatedly and the results have been peer-reviewed.
While
some of my argument against rationalism may not be familiar to all readers, its
main conclusion is familiar to Philosophy students. It is Hume’s conclusion.
The famous empiricist stated long ago that merely verbal arguments that do not
begin from material evidence but later claim to arrive at conclusions that may
be applied in the material world should be “consigned to the flames.”5
Cognitive dissonance theory only gives modern credence to Hume’s famous
conclusion.
Rationalism’s
failures lead to the conclusion that its way of ignoring the material world, or
trying to impose some preconceived model on it, doesn’t work. Rationalism
cannot serve as a firm and reliable base for a full philosophical system; its
method of progressing from idea to idea, without reference to physical
evidence, is at least as likely to end in rationalization as it is in
rationality. Finding a complete, life-regulating system of ideas—a moral philosophy—is
far too important to our well-being to risk our lives on a beginning point that
so much historical evidence says is deeply flawed. In order to build a
universal moral code, we need to begin from a better base model of the human
mind.
But a
beginning based on sensory impressions of the material world, which is empiricism’s
method, doesn’t work either. It can’t adequately describe the thing doing the
beginning. Besides, if we lived by pure empiricism—that is, if we just gathered
experiences—we would become transfixed by what was happening around us. At
best, we would become collectors of sense data, recording and storing bits of
experience, but with no idea of what to do with these memories, how to do it,
or why we would even bother. We would have no larger model or vision to work
under and therefore no strategies for avoiding the same catastrophes our
ancestors had to learn – by trial and pain – to avoid.
So where
are we now in our larger argument? Each of us must have a comprehensive system
that gives coherence to all her or his ideas and so to the patterns of behaviour
we design and implement by basing them on those ideas. But if both the big
models of human thinking and knowing that traditional Western philosophy offers—namely,
rationalism and empiricism—seem unreliable, then what model of human knowing
can we begin from? The answer is complex enough to deserve a chapter of its
own.
Notes
1.
Elliot Aronson, The Social Animal
(New York, NY: W.H. Freeman and Company: 1980), pp. 99–106.
2.
Virginia Stark-Vance and Mary Louise Dubay, 100
Questions & Answers about Brain Tumors (Sudbury, MA: Jones and Bartlett Publishers, 2nd
edition, 2011).
3. “G.E.
Moore,” Wikipedia, the Free Encyclopedia. Accessed April 5, 2015. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/G.e._Moore.
4. “Herbert
Spencer,” Wikipedia, the Free
Encyclopedia.
Accessed April 6, 2015. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Herbert_Spencer.
5.
David Hume, An Enquiry Concerning Human
Understanding, cited in Wikipedia article “Metaphysics.” Accessed April 6,
2015. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Metaphysics#British_empiricism.
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