I have often tangled – to at best a draw and more often an “ncomplete”
– with the question, “How do we know things?”
Today’s question – and I can sense you are on the ends of your seats
about this – is, as the title reveals, an even bigger one.
I have over the years taken numerous Philosophy classes –
the most recent ones at UCLA Extension – searching for illumination
concerning the question, “How do we know things?” The answers I have received invariably
involved extended speculations as to how, when you see an apple, does that
apple exist outside your consciousness, or is it, rather, a projection of
“appleness” emanating from your brain?
Yes, I paid money for that.
The truth is, that was not really what I was interested
in. I honestly don’t care about apples
that way; I like eating them, and that’s it.
Such speculations, however, appeared to be the primary focus of a
surprising number of philosophers.
I gave up on Philosophy classes. They did not appropriately deal with my
question, and they often made me hungry.
(What stayed with me was one philosopher saying a really smart
thing on the subject. He said that if
you bump your leg on a table, it is evident – when you went “Ow!” – that that
table was clearly outside of your
consciousness. The philosopher indicated
– through his tone – that he was thoroughly “over” of this type of investigation
and wished dearly that philosophers would finally abandon it move on to meatier
things.)
My continuing curiosity about “How do we know things?” took
me from Philosophy to Sociology. I was
intrigued about Sociology’s “take” concerning how people – meaning entire
cultures, or at least substantial minority subcultures – come to believe for a
certainty things that are demonstrably untrue?
(I would provide examples of “mistaken understandings” at
this point, but I do not want to besmirch this discussion with ideological bias. Instead, I invite you to insert specific examples
of your own. I will prime the pump just to
get things started: “Birthers.”)
Studying Sociology, I did not find the answer I was looking
for. I did, however, encounter the essential prototype of the “even bigger
question.”
The class was entitled, “The History of The Conservative
Movement In America.” (I was interested
in learning how the people I didn’t agree with developed their ideological
perspective.)
At one point, the instructor, who insisted he was neither conservative
nor liberal, mentioned a study which concluded that “upward mobility” in this
country had become less and less of a realistic possibility.
Immediately, an inveterate blowhard sitting the back of the
room bellowed,
“Conservatives don’t believe that.”
That’s when it hit me.
That’s the whole ballgame. Right
there.
Our Sociology instructor may not have been a liberal. But he was indisputably an academic. (He was teaching at a university!) The “upward
mobility” study was presumably reputable.
They did their research, they crunched the numbers, and they arrived at
their conclusions.
Still, the inveterate blowhard sitting in the back of the
room’s response to it was,
“Conservatives don’t believe that.” (As if belied could obliterate evidence, like
a “spot remover.”)
The interesting thing was that the blowhard sitting in the
back of the room – not a personal
description; there were numerous complaints about him from fellow classmates – was
professionally a gastroenterologist.
That information confused me. I was certain that, in the course of his
activities, the good doctor had undoubtedly sent out suspicious-looking polyps
to a lab to be tested. What happened, I
wondered, when the (scientific) lab results came back positive?
“I am sorry to report that your lab results indicate you
have colon cancer.”
“I don’t believe that.”
“Oh well then, never mind.”
Would the inveterate blowhard sitting in the back of the
room actually do that? And if he wouldn’t, then why would he accept
scientific information in one
context, and reject it on the basis of “belief” in another?
My classroom experience popped back in my mind when I discovered
the same issue being discussed on The
Financial Page of The New Yorker,
written by James Surowiecki. (“We are
going “Uptown” today, people!”)
The article began with a quote from President Obama,
asserting that “upward mobility {in this
country} has stalled.” Surowiecki
goes on to report that subsequent studies revealed that “{upward mobility} had remained relatively stable over the entire
second half of the twentieth century.”
Meaning that people have had difficulty moving up longer than it was
previously understood.
The implication here is that, with a couple of decadal
exceptions, America’s cherished belief in upward mobility has been substantially
a myth since the 1920’s, and that “over time, the American dream has become increasingly
untethered from American reality.” Surowiecki
goes on to report that “mobility here is lower than in most European
countries.”
To which, the inveterate blowhard sitting in the back of the
room would undoubtedly respond,
“Conservatives don’t believe that.”
We are talking about two ways of evaluating information,
one, evidence-based, the other based on a belief, each approach leading to a mutually-exclusively
differing conclusion.
The consequences of this conflict are obvious. The evidence-based faction – based on the
evidence – would exhort us to do
something about the problem. On the
other hand, the opposing side – not believing
the evidence – would insist that, since the problem does not exist, the
appropriate “solution” is to do nothing.
And stop being so negative
all the time. I mean, how’s that going to improve anything? Not, of course, that anything needs
improving. But still.
Two conflicting approaches, calling for opposite courses of
action. This, for me, leads not to the answer to my original
question, but to the formulation of the “even bigger question”, that question being,
“In the context of our understanding of the truth, what
matters more – evidence or beliefs?”
On our next visit, we shall explore the neighboring question,
“If your belief in something makes you happier and feel better, does it make
any difference whether that belief is, in fact, true?
Boy! Am I ever
excited!
Me too. The
difference is you’re being sarcastic and I’m actually excited.
This stuff really turns you on?
1 comment:
You might like to look up Susan Jocaboy's book The Age of American Unreason.
I've spent a certain amount of my life around skepticism - the movement that seeks to debunk paranormal claims - and the same thought processes apply there. People confuse science with belief and don't understand how easily they can be fooled by simple psychological phenomena.
I'd say 'twas ever thus, except that the particular current presentation of this problem in American seems so dangerous.
wg
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