Rational Philosophy

On avoiding work and making false distinctions.

After I swam this morning, I got into a locker room discussion about the supreme wastefulness and poor management of the NY City Transit system. (Coincidentally, the subject of a recent post.) There we were, a former Transit employee (me), a current Transit employee, and a contractor to the Transit Authority, quickly finding common ground on the subjects of inefficiency and ineptness. The discussion began when the current transit employee joked that his job required him just to show up.

Barack Obama showed up when Ted Kennedy couldn’t (because of his brain tumor) to make the commencement address at Wesleyan University. Obama took the opportunity to urge the graduating class to consider the call of public service. William Kristol chastises Obama for omitting from his list of worthy public services that the Weslyan grads might consider a career in the armed forces .

Um, William, who in his right mind would encourage young people to join the armed forces right now? And particularly Obama, who opposed the war, and who wants out of the war, and who probably believes that drawing down on military spending is a good long term goal.

The report of another commencement address underscores the weakness of Kristol’s unconvincing piece. We read that President Bush gave the commencement address at Furman University in South Carolina. Bush also called for students to consider public service… and also left out the military from his list.

At the pinnacle of his rhetorical powers, Bush exhorted the Furman graduating class to adopt a “culture of responsibility” avoiding the inevitably un-fulfilling temptations of “alcohol, drugs and promiscuity.” (A bit late for that advice probably, Mr. President.)

And, speaking of alcohol, whenever I read Stanley Fish’s column it makes me want to tackle a shaker of Martinis. There’s something so depressingly negative about Fish’s way of thinking. He’s the worst kind of academic, it seems, seeking out reasons to accept the inevitability of problems rather than find ways to see past them.

This week Fish writes about “norms and deviations.” In a nutshell he argues that any group can be defined as a deviation from a norm, and that that group can legitimately claim that the norm is artificially determined. Deaf people, once defined as disabled, now seeks recognition as a community that rejects the term disabled. Fish rattles through the spectrum of differences from sex distinctions to the distinction between serial killers and non-serial killers. He concludes, rather smugly, that there’s no better way of looking at the endless recursive meaninglessness of these situations than to accept its endlessness and meaninglessness.

Fortunately, I didn’t have to do any work in rebutting Mr. Fish — someone else had already done it for me. A poster called malnicore added this comment, which cannot be improved upon (or, maybe it can, but I’m not going to try):

Oddly, I now notice that malnicore’s last sentence echoes Bush’s call to release ourselves from any attachment to “alcohol, drugs and promiscuity.” To which list he might usefully have added “abuse of power.”

On the negative swing in the Democratic primary campaign, global warming, and deconstruction.

Campaigning in Pennsylvania today, Barack Obama had this to say about the increasingly negative tone of the push for votes: “if you get elbowed enough, eventually you start elbowing back.” He labels the cause — “elbowing” — and the effect — “elbowing back.” I like Barack Obama, from what I know of him, and his analysis of the cause and effect of retaliation has some emotionally appealing weight to it — generally we don’t like to be pushed around — but it makes me wonder about the psychology of retaliation in a presidential candidate.

As fears rise of dire consequences from global warming, so does the noise of debate about what each of us can and should do to respond. Michael Pollan argues that although personal choices to, for instance, walk instead of drive, eat less meat, plant our back yard, may seem to be ineffective ways to generate the desired effect, they form a critical part of the only response that can help save our ecology in the long term — a change in attitude.

And Stanley Fish, in a typically dogmatic piece, insists that deconstruction didn’t change anything. After outlining the tumult in academia and the careers of academics post-deconstruction, Fish blithely dismisses the effect as something disconnected from its cause: “these effects, good and bad, happy and unhappy, did not flow from deconstruction as a matter of right and property; they were effects of which deconstruction just happened to be the occasion.”

(Tangentially I wonder whether Fish’s pattern of defending a hypothesis rather than challenging and investigating it has an overall beneficial result — because his topics and positions provoke thought and response — or not — since by lending the air of authority to his unswerving style, the Times does an implicit injustice to the practice of sound thinking… Unfortunately, I think, the latter.)

Nothing ‘just happens’ to be the occasion for an effect. Or, to put it another way, every cause is inevitably the occasion for its effect.

Obama speaks emotively but not convincingly when he says that Clinton’s elbowing caused his elbowing. We all know that the response to an an elbow in the ribs can be for us to present our other ribs for more elbowing. To unpack Obama’s words, what he meant was: “wouldn’t you eventually do the same thing if someone was needling you?” And he’s counting on most people saying, “well, yes, I believe I would.”

It’s a clever and appealing piece of rhetoric, but not an honest one. Obama knows that it would have been possible to keep the higher ground, but he’s been advised that he needs to strike back, and perhaps he also feels that it’s right to strike back. I, for one, would dearly like to know whether Obama believes this or not. How deep and strong is his belief in doing the right thing? That’s the reason to want to vote for him.

Michael Pollan presents at a subtle and important insight into the cause and effect of global warming — if we don’t change our attitudes, we won’t change the outcome. In itself, his journalism acts as a cause of changing attitude, informing and swaying opinion. He arrived at his opinion through reading and reflection. His reading and reflection wouldn’t and couldn’t have happened without the work and reflection of scientists and educators who went before him… This chain of cause and effect leads us back to the evolution of human consciousness, which also leads us back to the cause of global warming. This is, all at once, ironic, comforting, and somewhat alarming. Ironic: Global warming and the hope for averting disaster have been caused by the evolution of human consciousness. Comforting: If we broke it, we can fix it. Alarming: If this can happen, what’s in store for us next?

Philosophically speaking, the phenomenon of cause and effect is central to our cohesive experience of existence. Given the same conditions, we expect the same outcomes. Manifestations of existence (physical objects, energy fields, etc.) in time and space operate predictably to the extent that we have sufficient information to make those predictions. Even quantum mechanics results in predictable behaviors that reflect the probability of different outcomes.

We take cause and effect for granted. We’re so accustomed to its operation that we find it hard to imagine the world working in any other way. Because of this, perhaps, I think that we devalue the all pervasive workings of causality. We allow ourselves to believe that a stand-in for a reasonable cause (elbowing) is good enough. And that a well defended opinion (a la those of Stanley Fish) is as good as a rigorous and skeptical exploration. But, fortunately, we also recognize the real thing when we see it.

For more rational, science-based explanations of life’s meaning and purpose, please refer to my book: LIFE! Why We Exist… And What We Must Do To Survive.

In a 1929 interview, Albert Einstein apparently said: “I’m enough of an artist to draw freely on my imagination, which I think is more important than knowledge.”

In order to have an opinion on Einstein’s statement, we first need to decide what he means by “more important.” Einstein was speaking of his own process. He had been asked whether intuition or inspiration accounted for his theories. Certainly, when devising a new theory, imagination plays a very significant role, and without it a new theory can’t emerge.

Einstein’s contribution to science was creative. For him, then, imagination was more important that knowledge.

As my wife and I visited our newborn son in the ICU today we talked about the role of the nursing staff. So much of what they do is routine — they learn how to care for the newborns and follow the instructions they’ve been given. But the difference between a competent nurse and a nurse who contributes something important is the degree to which she is engaged with the baby and his parents.

The competent nurse follows the correct procedures, attends to her tasks with care and dedication. The engaged nurse does this too, but also sees things, listens, and reacts.

Artist Mark Rothko said this about art: “It is a widely accepted notion among painters that it does not matter what one paints as long as it is well painted. This is the essence of academicism. There is no such thing as good painting about nothing.”

Rothko could have been speaking about nursing. One looks at Rothko’s paintings and one could be forgiven for asking what they are about. But does this mean that they aren’t about something?

Rothko’s children are suing to have his remains unearthed and moved to a Jewish cemetery. I don’t know how Rothko would feel about this. Judged as a creative act, one imagines that he would find it rather obvious. Judged as an action in the world, one imagines he would find it somewhat depressing.

Another child of a famous person — Max Mosley, son of Oswald Mosley the notorious British Nazi — has been in trouble for exploring his imaginative world in a sadomasochistic orgy with prostitutes in London. Apparently, shades of Nazism can be detected in the role-play. Mosley is the chief of the Formula One motor racing federation and has been asked to resign.

The thread that I’m trying to mine is the concept of engagement. A nurse engaged with her role as caregiver. A scientist engaged with his role as a pursuer of new ideas. A painter engaged with the direct communication of otherwise uncommunicable ideas. And a man engaged with his legacy and its demons.

But what does any of this have to do with Bacon? Stanley Fish writes about deconstruction and Sir Francis Bacon.

Bacon predicted that rational thought would eventually win out; that we would one day have a consistent , complete understanding of the world we live in, but that we would go through tough times to get there. He predicted that language would get in the way. That the terms we use to talk about and define things would become recursively problematic.

Rothko sought to eliminate words. Bacon recognized their challenges. Einstein sought to subjugate knowledge.

There is a reason, I think, for such struggle. Rothko, Bacon and Einstein all felt painfully the distinction between ideas and reality. We experience reality, and we conceive of ideas.

Ideas can be consistent and whole and concrete. Reality must be felt and experienced and can never be pinned down. Einstein eluded language, Rothko avoided it, Mosley seeks to bend it, and Bacon wanted to wrestle with it, but found it stronger than him. Language, I would argue, can be accurate and complete when it expresses ideas, but not when it seeks to represent the world and our experience of it.

On causality, with specific reference to the hatred of Hillary Clinton, and muscle fatigue.

When I first read Stanley Fish’s pieces about those who love or live to despise Hillary Clinton — All You Need Is Hate, and A Calumny A Day To Keep Hillary Away — I resisted the temptation to respond to Fish’s comments. After all, wasn’t he standing up for rationalism and logic? Wasn’t he speaking out against the rude jibes of the senseless masses? And didn’t Hillary deserve his defense?

But in the end I came to realize that I should respond. Again, I found in Fish’s purportedly rational column an absence of thoughtful inquiry. Couched in the language of rationalism, his analysis bashed the Hillary bashers without offering up a viable explanation for the phenomenon. Perhaps by understanding the reason for the hatred we can better counter it. “Perhaps nothing accounts for it,” Fish says, and again I feel myself confronting the same kind of lazy thinking that brought Fish to claim that the humanities as a field of study serves no purpose.

Does rootless ill-will toward Hillary engender the bashing, engendering more bashing? Or does the ill-will result from some other cause, with a side-effect being the bashing?

Research toward the causes of enlarged hearts has yielded interesting information about the way in which muscles fatigue. Scientists have found that when we use our muscles to the point of fatigue, they leak calcium. The calcium leaks cause weakness and stimulate an enzyme that eats away at the muscle fiber. When given a substance that blocks the calcium leaks, mice can swim and run further without experiencing muscle fatigue.

In considering whether there could be value in blocking calcium leaks to enhance athletic performance, Dr. Ligget, a heart-failure researcher says, “We have to ask whether it would be prudent to be circumventing this mechanism.”

Hear, hear. If we give evolution any credit we would have to think that creatures with muscles, ourselves included, experience muscle fatigue for good reason. The cause of muscle fatigue is not calcium leaks, it is the valuable feedback mechanism that has evolved to prevent us from pushing ourselves beyond exhaustion. (Being a person whose muscles tend to fatigue quickly, on the other hand, I wouldn’t mind getting my hands on some of those mice pills…)

Back to Hillary Clinton. Why didn’t Fish want to explore the possibility that the Hillary bashing is an end result of some other phenomenon? Clearly, this would bring him onto thin ice. He would need to confront the idea that perhaps there was a cause for it, whether it was rational or not, defensible or not. Effects must have a cause, after all.

Fear and anger cause hatred. With Hillary Clinton, I think the likely cause is fear, whereas with George Bush (Fish’s counter-foil) the cause is anger.

Why would we fear Hillary Clinton? Here are three reasons.
1. She has demonstrated ruthlessness.

2. She doesn’t hide her sense of superiority well.

3. She strives but fails to demonstrate that she is not ideologically rigid.

We find it difficult to express these fears rationally, in part because each of them has a perfectly acceptable and reasonable corollary — commitment, brilliance, and consistency. But we do fear the ruthless, those who hold themselves up as superior, and those who are rigid.
For good measure, here is why we would be angry with Bush.

1. He’s lazy when he has work to do.

2. He makes life and death decisions based on an arbitrary will to exert his power.

3. He’s ignorant but touts his sway over us.

What’s not to be angry at?

Sure, Hillary Clinton is committed, brilliant, and consistent. And Bush is a life loving, god fearing everyman. But, when we’re talking about the country’s highest office, we have good reason to fear the former and be angry with the latter.

Every effect begins with a cause. Just as our muscles fatigue to prevent us from overtaxing our bodies, so, too, we lash out with seemingly irrational hatred and bias when we fear or resent a greater ill. And, just as it would be good to spare our bodies the fatigue and wasting that comes from calcium leaks, so, too, it would be good to spare society the vitriol of hateful criticism by recognizing the onset of symptoms and directing our feelings of fear and anger toward a more constructive end.

On ideas that don’t meet at the ends: Catching up with the slippery Fish, and digging into Farmer’s flawed reasoning.

Last week I thought I had refuted Stanley Fish’s doubts about the value of the humanities. But it seems that I wasn’t alone in misunderstanding Fish’s point. Fish explains today that he was talking about the academic field of “the humanties” not about art, literature, philosophy, etc. themselves. Fish clarifies his argument: Do humanities courses change lives and start movements or have any other measurable value? Does one teach with that purpose, and if one did could it be realized? He admits that teaching humanties can be one way for people to learn critical thinking, and that it provides people with a better range of subjects for conversation. But he then dismisses these values as being far from the exclusive realm of humanties courses. Now that Fish has made himself clear, I still disagree with him.

Another educator, John Farmer, who teaches at Rutger’s Law School, argues that the criminal justice system isn’t necessarily the right place to pursue the war on terror. Farmer argues that the prosecutions of Jose Padilla and Hemant Lakhani take criminal justice into dangerous territory, toward endorsing the pursuit and prosecution of terror conspirators who have not yet done more than pursue. So far so good. Farmer’s making sense. But then he argues that this situation should be remedied by taking terror law enforcement out of the criminal justice system, permitting the government some mechanism for “preventive detention.” “Considering norms of criminal law and the paucity of evidence the government had at the time,” Farmer says, “its only alternative was to leave him free. Law enforcement should have had another choice.” Hmmm. So to prevent the erosion of our civil liberties we should permit indefinite detention without charges of those we have doubts about.

Stanley Fish puts forth a subtle brand of sophistry in his twin salvos against the usefulness of the humanities. And this sophistry seems to indicate an ulterior motive. Fish’s true motive isn’t relevant to proving him wrong, but I would guess that he likes the idea that his academic pursuit rises above the demands of demonstrating value. He reaches a passionate pitch when he states “the refusal of the humanities to acknowledge or bow to an end they do not contemplate is, I argue, their salvation and their value.” Fish prides his field of study on its “refusal to bow” to pragmatic ends, and, rhetorically, argues that this refusal supports the justification for its worth.

My short rebuttal (”bullshit”) still stands.

Fish’s sophistry is this: He starts with three questions about the humanities “what is the value of such work, why should anyone fund it, and why (for what reasons) does anyone do it?” to which he appends, without drawing a logical connection, the following tests — that if it has value, the value must be measurable, that unless the value is measurable it cannot claim funding, and that those who do it must have consistent, valid and measurable reasons for doing it. Fish then flops around quite happily having avoided answering his own questions.

1. A value need not be measurable for it to be a value. Heat was a value before mssrs Farenheit and Celcius devised their scales and methods of measurement. Or, to take an example more closely related, “justice” is a value that cannot be measured (can we count how many people are rightly convicted? Of course not.) Pleasure and cleverness are not measurable values, neither is academic interest.

2. Funding for academic study always involves some element of uncertainty. There is no logical connection between whether a field of study has a measurable value or not and its appropriateness for investment.

3. People do all kinds of things for the oddest reasons. Fish’s assertion that humanities professors don’t do what they do to impart value is, even if it is correct, entirely irrelevant. Perhaps the best reason that any educator can have for being in the teaching business is that they relish their subject area. Who wants a teacher focused on the value that the course is imparting, rather than the knowledge and enthusiasm for the material?

Fish is carefully stepping over the real reasons that the humanities have value. They have value in the same way that any academic field of study has value, in exploring the world we live in. Humanities studies the world of art and literature. I can thing of few things more intrinsically valuable than studying the way that the creative world lives within, alongside and outside the real world. To say that such study has no intrinsic value makes me want to plea for Fish to take a sabbatical.

John Farmer makes a less subtle blunder. The current administration has been stretching, bypassing and thwarting the criminal justice system to meet its own ends. Farmer is right in saying that we shouldn’t allow this. But to claim that instead we need a whole new arm to the judiciary so that the government can continue to confine, hold and interrogate people who perhaps intend to do harm, seems about as wrongheaded as you can get.

�

On Stanley Fish’s views on the humanties, and congress’s obsession with baseball.

Stanely Fish has this to say about whether studying the humanties can change us for the better: “Do the humanities ennoble? And for that matter, is it the business of the humanities, or of any other area of academic study, to save us? The answer in both cases, I think, is no.” Fish argues that the humanities serve no purpose whatsoever, but that this is OK, since “an activity that cannot be justified is an activity that refuses to regard itself as instrumental to some larger good.”

To which feel moved to give a short rebuttal (”bullshit”) but feel a sense of duty to respond with something longer and more thoughtful. Back to that in a minute.

The other matter that has me scratching my head again today is all the fuss in congress over baseball drug use. Perhaps this is one of those cultural or political gaps that comes from being born and raised elsewhere, but why on earth does the government feel it should spend taxpayers’ money investigating drug use in baseball? Roger Clemens has been desperately defending himself against the allegations in the recent report. And he should be held accountable if he’s sullied the name of baseball, but by the government?

How does this relate to Stanley Fish and his misapprehension of the value of the humanities? Well, you can find echoes of Kafka and Beckett and Heller in the congress’s pursuit of the baseball players abuses, just as you can find echoes of Kafka and Vonnegut and, yes, Heller again in the Bush administration’s press to invade Iraq and chronic abuse of human rights.

Over the weekend I saw “Charlie Wilson’s War.” Granted not a film of any great artistic merit, although effectively done, but it helps illustrate the point. I came out of the theater with a renewed sense of urgency about the value and hidden dangers of the political process, with a new sense of outrage at the current administration’s deliberate mishandling of the current war and manhandling of our rights. Could I have reached the same sense of outrage without the movie? Sure, but that’s not the point.

The humanities, along with news media, word of mouth, personal observation, government and independent reports, etc., give us a picture of the world we live in. In some cases, the humanities give us a picture that we couldn’t get in any other way (because it’s purely imaginitive or impressionistic or surreal). I would pose the reverse question to Fish. If humanities don’t serve a purpose, why do they exist?

We strive to create art because we want to represent something — an emotion, an impression, an urge, a feeling – that seems important to us. Art is the tangible manifestation of our humanity. Without art we have no tangible manifestation of our humanity. Some can live in such a world, perhaps, but most of us cannot.

�

Some days I sit down to write and have no idea what I might write about. Today I sat down with a couple of ideas (to work on the moral problems posed by the plotline of the movie Gone, Baby Gone, and another good idea that now escapes me), but found myself instead reading an opinion piece by Stanley Fish - Suffering, Evil and The Existence of God.

Fish’s piece is inspired by a look at two new books, only one of which addresses Suffering and Evil as they pertain to the Existence of God — Bart D. Ehrman’s “God’s Problem: How the Bible Fails to Answer Our Most Important Question – Why We Suffer.” The other Antony Flew’s “There Is a God: How the World’s Most Notorious Atheist Changed His Mind,” instead forwards the theory that “the only satisfactory explanation for the origin of such ‘end-directed, self-replicating’ life as we see on earth is an infinitely intelligent Mind.”

Let’s tackle these two challenges in reverse order:

Flew makes the point that since science deals with chemicals and material stuff any answer it gives about meaning and purpose is insufficient. Or, as he would have put it when still an atheist the answer that “the laws of physics are ‘lawless laws’ that arise from the void – end of discussion” simply leaves open the question of from whence those laws arose. But here Flew has erred on two critical points.

1. The laws of physics are both self-consistent and consistent with logic and reason. The laws of physics arise out of the nature of this existence, not out of a void. (And therefore the concepts of our existence preceded and reveal themselves through the specific appearance of this space and this time.)

2. The principles of existence can and do provide a fully rational explanation for “the origin of such ‘end-directed, self-replicating’ life as we see on earth.”

The principles of existence in space and time give us the principle of persistence — something that tends to continue to exist will tend to persist. (This is not a tautology, but a very simple reflection of a universal logical principle.) An example: Although there are many kinds of fundamental particles, only protons and electrons exist freely in any abundance. This is because protons and electrons, unlike their heavier sibling particles, have effectively infinite lifespans. This is why the material of the universe consists of atoms (electrons, protons, and neutrons — which are stable in bound form).

Living creatures embody an end-directed form because this is the form that survives. Any number of chemical reactions and interreactions can and do take place in a primordal soup, but the ones that aren’t persistent go nowhere.

Life seems so mysteriously purpose-driven because we’re looking at it backwards. What we don’t immediately perceive are all of the unproductive nubs and dead-ends (think dinosaurs). When we look for meaning, it helps to reflect that the meaning of life derives from process of its unfolding.

(All of this is explained much more fully in my book - “LIFE! Why We Exist… And What We Must Do to Survive.”)

But what then is the purpose of suffering and evil?

It’s easier to dispense with evil. The concept of evil reflects a perception that someone or something wishes to hurt, harm or destroy for the simple purpose of hurting, harming or destroying. This practical definition of evil proves quite useful. Evil stands in opposition to a natural goal of life (that it should persist). Evil then arises from an unproductive genetic branch or from circumstances that warp a person’s psychological makeup. It serves no ultimate positive purpose, but provides great fodder for psychological dramas and political speeches.

Oddly, suffering does serve a purpose and seems to be an inevitable part of life. At the most immediate level, our bodies use suffering as an effective means of prompting us to act. Hunger pangs cause us to want to eat and thereby sustain our body with food. Pain from our nerve endings causes us to avoid doing things or continuing to do things that will harm us (and ultimately perhaps cause us not to survive). Even emotional anguish serves to provide us with a context for acting in ways that will help us survive or help our social group survive.