How to be a Human Animal, Chapter 10: Moral Behavior cannot be Determined by Using Reason or Rules

Chapter 10: Moral Behavior cannot be Determined by Using Reason or Rules

I’m back again with more advice for a hypothetical newborn baby. This is my tenth lesson on how to thrive in the complex world.

You will be surrounded by people who insist that there are clearly defined “right” and “wrong” things. This dichotomy doesn't work very well, of course, because many things are not clearly right or wrong and sometimes they seem both right and wrong or neither right or wrong, depending on who is calling the balls and strikes. Many people will tell you that they have “figured things out” with a formula or a set of holy commandments and they will offer to help you understand what you should or should not do in your life. Your default setting should be to not trust any of these people.

Let’s start with the claim that human animals can use their “reason” to figure our right and wrong. The problem is that the brain was not designed to pursue the truth. Rather, it was designed by evolution to help us win arguments. The evidence is everywhere; reason often fails to deliver rational results—behavioral economist Daniel Kahneman won a Nobel Prize for exposing many of the heuristics, fallacies and biases—you can delve right in (after you learn to read) by picking up a copy of Thinking, Fast and Slow.

Not only is Reason often not helpful. It is often detrimental to rationality. People “systematically strive for arguments that justify their beliefs or their actions.” Reason tends to “seek justification and not truth.” Human reasoning is severely distorted by the confirmation bias, motivated reasoning and reason-based choice. Here is an excerpt from an article by Mercier and Sperber, “Why Humans Reason”:

Reasoning is generally seen as a means to improve knowledge and make better decisions. However, much evidence shows that reasoning often leads to epistemic distortions and poor decisions. This suggests that the function of reasoning should be rethought. Our hypothesis is that the function of reasoning is argumentative. It is to devise and evaluate arguments intended to persuade. Reasoning so conceived is adaptive given the exceptional dependence of humans on communication and their vulnerability to misinformation. A wide range of evidence in the psychology of reasoning and decision making can be reinterpreted and better explained in the light of this hypothesis. Poor performance in standard reasoning tasks is explained by the lack of argumentative context. When the same problems are placed in a proper argumentative setting, people turn out to be skilled arguers. Skilled arguers, however, are not after the truth but after arguments supporting their views. This explains the notorious confirmation bias. This bias is apparent not only when people are actually arguing, but also when they are reasoning proactively from the perspective of having to defend their opinions. Reasoning so motivated can distort evaluations and attitudes

So beware of the claim that reasoning will figure out what is right or wrong.

Also beware of that you can figure out morality by referring to simple principles like the Golden Rule. First of all, no, the Golden Rule wasn’t invented by Jesus (as many people will tell you). It has been around since at least 2000 BC. Please notice that there is something weird about The Golden Rule. Must we really make reference to what we would want in order to understand that we should be nice to others? Why shouldn’t the Golden Rule be shorter, something like “Be Nice” or “Don’t be a dick”?

Watch out for people who tell you that people need the promise of heaven and threat of hell in order to live a worthy life. That is a particularly insane way of looking at humanity. If you are kept in in line only by the threat of hell, you are one fucked-up person. How about just be good to others for the sake of being a good person?

Watch out for people who tell you that rules will guide you with regard to morality. Rules cannot do any such thing. If one can determine morality based on reason or rules, the people who believe in rules should please tell me: How shall I calculate the amount of money it would be appropriate to give to the next homeless person I encounter? What do the Ten Commandments say about whether to give the homeless person any money at all?

More than 2,000 years ago, Aristotle ferociously attacked the idea that rules can form the basis for any moral system. As Aristotle explained in detail, there are simply too many exceptions to even the most basic moral rules; we often kill, steal and covet in ways that are socially applauded. In order to actually apply any rule, we need to invoke (often subconsciously) a set of meta-rules for deciding when and how to apply that rule, and a meta-meta system of rules for knowing how to apply those meta rules, etc. Written sets of rules are intrinsically incomplete; they are always subject to further elaboration and explanation. The application of rules thus amounts to a fuzzy eternal regress, the end result of which is that we are actually self-legislating, though we project the rule onto our conduct as our infallible authority.

There is a modern tangible analogue to illustrate Aristotle’s concerns about the application of rules. It’s the American legal system, which relies upon thousands of common law cases to enable the interpretation of even simple-seeming Constitutional concepts (e.g., “Congress shall make no law abridging the freedom of speech . . .”). The thousands of common law cases end up being the big tail wagging the little First Amendment dog, so much so that no one can legitimately claim to understand the First Amendment without having studied hundreds of pages of case law. In both moral dilemmas and the legal system, it’s often not a matter of simply “invoking” or “applying” a rule; rather, it’s about making sense of the rule in a particular situation after spending substantial energy to understand the rule, and then working hard to achieve an equitable result in the context of the written law.

Thoughtful people know that rules don’t guide moral behavior. Much more often, they are the post-hoc justification. Law Professor Steven Winter has studied rules at length, concluding that " there's a lot more space than we'd think in 'following the rules."'

[T]he real world of human action is too varied and complex to be captured by any set of categorical structures. It is not so much that every rule has a few comers that do not quite fit, as it is that life's diversity and complexity cannot be contained within square comers. Indeed, as long as we treat categories as rigid little boxes, any set of boxes we devise will be either too few to do like justice or too many to be workable.

Winter quotes Stanley Fish, who wrote: "Every rule is a rule of thumb."

Philosopher Andy Clark also points out the significant limitations of moral rules:

The attempt to condense [legal] expertise . . . into a set of rules and principles that can be economically expressed by a few sentences of public language may thus be wildly optimistic, akin to trying to reduce a dog's olfactory skills to a small body of prose.

Clark reconceptualizes rules as "guides and signposts" that enable collaborative exploration "rather than as failed attempts to capture the rich structure of our individual . . . knowledge." Researching prior cases provides a menu of suggestions for discussing and collaborating (through briefing and oral arguments) to attempt to resolve difficult legal issues.

We’ve barely scratched the surface of this topic. We haven’t even discussed Kant’s hopelessly flawed categorical imperative or the equally flawed theory of utilitarianism. That said, I hope I have disabused you of any temptation to explain morality in terms of “reason” or “rules.”

Beware, too, that those people who most often claim to know how to calculate morality are living lives all-too-similar to the rest of us in terms of selfishness versus altruism.

We aren’t done talking about We’ll talk more about morality later, especially Jonathan Haidt’s engaging discussions regarding social intuitionism and the multiple moral foundations.

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The “Black” Way of Thinking

Do you agree with the Black way of seeing the world? Oh . . . wait a minute. There is not one "Black" way of seeing the world and this is one of my biggest problems with modern social justice/CRT rhetoric. This video illustrates the how misguided it is to try to shove people into ideological or political silos based upon immutable physical characteristics.

Continue ReadingThe “Black” Way of Thinking

How to be a Human Animal, Chapter 9: Learn How to Do Millions of Little Things

Chapter 9: Learn How to Do Millions of Little Things

OK! I’m back with more advice for a newborn baby. This is my ninth lesson on how to thrive in the complex world. Baby, as you have probably figured out, I’m giving you the advice that I wish I had learned earlier and easier. I’m spoon-feeding you, but not with baby food. I'm feeding you with lessons I learned at the school of hard knocks.

What should you be doing when you are very young? You would think that I would tell you to work hard to do some really big and important things, but I’m going to suggest the opposite: You should get busy learning lots and lots of little things. These countless little things will enable you to accomplish big things decades later.

In the context of natural selection, Richard Dawkins once used the metaphor the problem of scaling the extremely high sheer cliff of Mount Improbable. Here’s how this metaphor came to be. People are amazed at the human eye (as they should be—-see Chapter 7) but they erroneously conclude “It’s impossible that such an amazing thing could evolve! It would be like a human being jumping thousands of feet into the air in order to get to the top of a sheer cliff.” Dawkins then lays out the clear evidence that many extremely simple eyes were actually probable in early life forms. He then describes the steps by which very simple eyes could be improved incrementally, in thousands of ways over millions of generations. There is no need to leap thousands of feet to get to the top of the sheer front cliff of Mount Improbable. That’s because you can drive around to the back side of Mount Improbable where you will find a long inclined hiking path you can use to walk slowly up the hundreds of switchbacks to get to the same high point of the mountain. Thus, there are two different methods to get to the top, one of them impossible (leaping) and the other achievable with determination and time (hiking a longer path of switchbacks).

I’m 65 years old now and I’ve done some a few things that have impressed some other people. Every one of those difficult things took a large number of mundane-seeming and achievable skills and years or decades of time. I learned countless numbers of smallish achievable things that added up over the decades. Things like learning how to read in the first grade, or learning to play a C chord on a guitar, or learning how to use a computer mouse, or learning how a camera aperture works. My “secret weapon” is that I’m a scrapper—I don’t give up. I grind away on something until I figure it out or until I’m exhausted. I’ve learned many things by sheer grit and experimentation. After decades of doing this, I have accumulated a large took kit of skills that can be used for achieving complex things like being a lawyer or composing music or raising children or publishing a book of my digital art. My “secret” is that I have exploited “compounding” to my advantage.

Shane Parrish of Farnham Street notes that “Compounding” is a concept commonly used in the realm of finance. It refers to making interest on your interest, a phenomenon familiar to anyone trying to retire. Parrish notes that compounding is also a useful concept when applied to things outside of finance.  In “The Mundanity of Excellence,” Daniel F. Chambliss makes the case that numerous low-level skills can be leveraged into extraordinary achievements. In fact, he reminds us that great talent can happen only when we stand on the shoulders of numerous sub-talents. Excellence is the icing on the cake of mundacity:

Excellence is mundane. Superlative performance is really a confluence of dozens of small skills or activities, each one learned or stumbled upon, which have been carefully drilled into habit and then are fitted together in a synthesized whole. There is nothing extraordinary or superhuman in any one of those actions; only the fact that they are done consistently and correctly, and all together, produce excellence. When a swimmer learns a proper flip turn in the freestyle races, she will swim the race a bit faster; then a streamlined push off from the wall, with the arms squeezed together over the head, and a little faster; then how to place the hands in the water so no air is cupped in them; then how to lift them over the water; then how to lift weights to properly build strength, and how to eat the right foods, and to wear the best suits for racing, and on and on. Each of those tasks seems small in itself, but each allows the athlete to swim a bit faster. And having learned and consistently practiced all of them together, and many more besides, the swimmer may compete in the Olympic Games. The winning of a gold medal is nothing more than the synthesis of a countless number of such little things—even if some of them are done unwittingly or by others, and thus called “luck.”

I completely agree with Shane Parrish and Daniel Chambliss. Anything impressive that I’ve done is the result of 1,000 tiny things I’ve worked on much earlier in my life.That has included numerous little failures as well as work-arounds. I did these things because I have always been curious, energetic and relentless. Frankly, I have never done anything impressive that didn't take more than a decade of work that was then aggregated.

But here is a warning: Compounding can run in the opposite direction too. Enormous failures start with little missteps. Here’s one that is based on a real life story with which I’m familiar: “Hey, my wife had surgery and she has some leftover opioid painkiller. What the hell, I’ll try one and see how I feel.” Fast-forward five years and that person has a long history of sliding into many bad habits. He lost his focus and his will to achieve. He also lost his self-made business, destroyed his relationship with his kids. His only driving passion became his quest to find new ways of getting high.

I’ll end on a high note: One of the biggest ways compounding benefits you is the many small things you do to improve your reputation. As the saying goes, a good reputation is hard to earn and easy to lose. After you’ve spent your entire life trying to be trustworthy, truthful and kind, you’ll find that your reputation opens new doors for you, over and over. It’s easy to forget, though that this “superpower” of a good reputation was something you assembled over decades through truth-telling, hard work and kindness. Similarly, good health is usually the result of hundreds of mundane-seeming habits and routines.

Again, my advice to you is to aim low. Do lots and lots of little things. The world is your playroom. Practice many low-level skills and master them. Decades later you will be able to aggregate these into what other people think of as a super power, even though you know better.

Continue ReadingHow to be a Human Animal, Chapter 9: Learn How to Do Millions of Little Things