Tag: moral philosophy

The False-Dilemma of the Nature vs. Nurture Debate

Britton William FrostLeave a comment

Before I begin, allow me to explain what I mean by false dilemma. A false dilemma is an error in reasoning whereby one falsely assumes that the truth of a matter is limited to one of two (or a select few) explanations. For example, the American presidential election. For another example, have you ever been stumped by a question on multiple choice test because you saw more than one possible correct answer (or no correct answers all)? — perhaps you got frustrated because you felt that the test was unfairly trying to trick you? Well, you were probably right. This may have been an instance of your ability to recognize the false dilemma fallacy. Sometimes there are indeed any number of correct answers given any number of circumstances. There is often simply not enough information provided in the question for one choice to clearly stick out as correct. This might lead you to question the test in a broader sense. What is the purpose of this (presidential election, or) test? What is it trying to measure or prove? Without getting into that answer in too much detail (as this is not a post about the philosophical state of academic testing), I can say such tests aren’t really concerned with truth and meaning as they are about the specific program they support. That program may or may not have the best interests of the people in mind, and it may or may not be directly governed by the amount of money it can produce in a relatively short period of time. Anyway, that’s another discussion.

In a previous post entitled The Slate, the Chalk, and the Eraser, I compared a child’s mind to a slate, and I argued that as long as we write on it with chalk by teaching him how to think (rather than a permanent marker/what to think), then he will be able to erase those markings to make way for better and more situation-relevant ones in the future, once he develops the ability to make conscious judgments. This is an example that you may have heard before, and it can be useful, but by some interpretations, it may seem to rest on a false presupposition. Such an interpretation may raise the “nature-nurture” question that is so common in circles of science and philosophy. One might argue that if a child’s mind is truly analogous to a slate in the way I have put forth, then I should commit myself to the “nurture” side of that debate. That was not my intention. In fact, that debate, in its most common form, presents a false dilemma, so I can only commit to both or neither side depending on what is meant by ‘nature’ and ‘nurture’. The conventional definitions of these terms are limited in that they create a spectrum on which to make truth-value judgments about objects, experiences, phenomena, etc. We commit to one end of the spectrum or the other, and we take that position as true and the other as illusory. This is similar to the subject-object distinction I described in an earlier post. Perhaps comically, even the most radical (and supposedly-yet-not-so-contrary) ends of scientific and religious belief systems sometimes agree one which side to commit to, albeit for different reasons. That particular conflict, however, is usually caused by a semantic problem. The terms ‘nature’ and ‘nurture’ obviously mean very different things for radical mechanistic scientists and evangelical Christians.

Please keep in mind throughout that I am not criticizing science or religion in general, so I am not out to offend anyone. I am merely criticizing radical misinterpretations of each. Consequently, if you’re an idiot, you will probably misinterpret and get offended by this post as well.

Taking this description a step further, false dilemma can be committed to any number of degrees. The degree to which it is committed is determined by at least two factors: the number of possible options one is considering and the level of complexity at which one is analyzing the problem. Any matter we might deal with can be organized conceptually into a pyramid hierarchy where the theoretical categorical ideal is at the top, and the further one goes down the pyramid, the more manageable but trivial the matters become. As a rule of thumb, the fewest options (one or two) and the lowest level of analysis (bottom of the pyramid) should give rise to the highest probability of a logical error because the bottom level of analysis has the highest number of factors to consider, and those factors culminate up the pyramid toward the categorical ideal. Fortunately, committing an error at the lowest levels of analysis usually involves a harmless and easily-correctable confusion of facts. Committing the error at higher levels of analysis are more ontological in nature (as the categorical ideals are per se) and can have catastrophic consequences. All sciences and religions structure their methods and beliefs into such pyramid hierarchies, as do we individually. They start with a categorical ideal as their assumption (e.g. materialism for some science; the existence of God for some religion), and they work down from there. However, neither religion nor science are meant to be top-down processes like philosophy (which is likely the only top-down discipline that exists). They’re meant to be bottom-up processes. For science, everything starts with the data, and the more data that is compiled and organized, the more likely we are able to draw conclusions and make those conclusions useful (in order to help people, one would hope). For religion, everything starts with the individual. Live a moral and just life, act kindly toward others, and you will be rewarded through fulfillment (heaven for western religions, self-actualization for eastern religions). These can both be good things (and even reconcilable) if we go about them in the right way. What are the consequences, however, if we go about them radically (which is to say blindly)? In short, for radical belief in a self-righteous God, it is war, and therefore the loss of potentially millions of lives. In short, for radical materialism, it is corruption in politics, education, and the pharmaceutical industry, the elimination of health and economic equality, and the potential downfall of western civilization as we know it. That’s another discussion, though.

For the nature-nurture debate, the false dilemma is the consequence of (but is not limited to) confusion about what constitutes nature and nurture to begin with, and even most people who subscribe to the very same schools of thought have very different definitions of each. First, in the conventional form of this debate, what do people mean by ‘nature’? Biology, as far as I can tell, and nothing more. We each inherit an innate “code” of programmed genetic traits passed down from our parents, and they from theirs, and so on. This code determines our physiology and governs our behavior and interaction with the outside world. Our actions are reactive and governed by our brain-computer, and free will is consequently an illusion. What is meant by ‘nurture’ on the other hand? Our experienced environment, and nothing more. Regardless of our chemical makeup, how we are raised will determine our future. There is no variation in genetics that could make once person significantly different from another if raised in identical fashion by the same parents, in the same time and place. We have no control over the objective environment we experience, so free will still seems to be illusory.

These positions seem equally shortsighted, and therefore, this problem transcends semantics. Neither accounts for the gray in the matter — that reality, whatever that is, does not follow rules such as definitions and mathematical principles. These are conceptions of our own collectively-subjective realities which make it easier for us to explain phenomena which are otherwise unfathomable. On this note, we could potentially  consider both nature and nurture phenomenal. That is an objective point on the matter. The first subjective problem is that both positions imply that we don’t have free will. Sure, there are unconscious habits of ancient origins that drive our conscious behavior (e.g. consumption, survival, and reproduction), but there other more complex structures that these positions don’t account for (e.g. hierarchical structures of dominance, beliefs, and abstract behavior such as artistic production), and those are infinitely variable from person to person and from group to group. This comes back to the point I just made about phenomenal reality and the conceptions we follow in order to explain them as if they are somehow out there in the objective world that we are not part of.

Not to mention, we all take differently to the idea that free will might not exist. Religious people are often deeply offended by this idea whereas many scientists (theoretical physicists in particular) claim to be humbled by it. Both reactions, I would argue, are disgustingly self-righteous and are the direct consequence, not of truly understanding the concept of free will per se, but of whether or not free will simply fits into his or her preconstructed hierarchical structure of beliefs. One should see clearly, on that note, why a materialist must reject free will on principle alone, and a radical christian must accept it on principle alone. Regardless of the prospect that the religious person has a right to be offended in this case, and that it is contradictory of the scientist to commit to a subjective ontological opinion when that very opinion does not permit one to have an opinion to begin with (nor can it be supported with any sufficient amount of “scientific” evidence whatsoever), the point here transcends the matter of free will itself: that rejecting or accepting anything on principle alone is absurd. This calls into question matters of collective ideological influence. There is power in numbers, and that power is used for evil every bit as often as it is used for good. When individuals, however, break free from those ideologies, they realize how foolish it is to be sheep and to believe in anything to the extent that it harms anyone in any way (physiologically, financially, emotionally, etc.). The scary part about this is that literally any program might trap us in this way (ideologically), and blind us from the potentially-innate moral principles that underlie many of our actions. On that note, we are all collectively very much the same when we subscribe to a program, and we are all part of some program. We are individually very different, however, because we each have the potential to arrive at this realization through unique means. We each have a psychological structure that makes up our personality. It is undeniably innate to an extent, yet only partially biological. This reveals the immeasurable value in developing the one’s intrapersonal intelligence through introspection and careful evaluation of one’s own thoughts, feelings, perceptions, and desires.

Furthermore, conventional nature-nurture positions are polarities on a spectrum that doesn’t really exist. If we had clearer definitions of each, perhaps the debate would not present a false dilemma. We should reconstruct those definitions to be inclusive of phenomena — think of these terms as categories for ranges of processes rather than singular processes themselves. If we think of these terms as being on a spectrum, we are led to ask the impossible question of where the boundary is between them. If we think of them as categories, we are forced to embrace the reality that most, if not all, processes can fall into either category given a certain set of circumstances, and thus, those categories become virtually indistinguishable. E.g. in the case of inherited skills: practice makes perfect, yet natural talent seems so strongly to exist. If the truth-value-based spectrum between nature and nurture were a real thing, then neither position would be able to account for both nurtured ability and natural talent; it would simply be either/or. This is a consequence of the false dilemma. It leads us to believe that this gray matter is black and white. If we one is decent at learning anything, he/she knows that there is only gray in everything.

But is there? I hope I have explained to some conceivable extent why scientific and metaphysical matters should not be structured into a polar truth-spectrum, and why any attempt to do so would likely present a false dilemma. However, it seems more reasonable to apply spectrum structures to value theory matters such as aesthetics, ethics, and even other personal motivators such as love. This, I will explain further in a later post.

 

Collective Subjectivity = Reality :: The Utility of Phenomenological Thought

Britton William FrostLeave a comment

In my last post, I explained the differences between and the proper uses of the terms ‘subjective’ and ‘objective’. To recap, these terms do not describe the positions from which one perceives. Of course, everyone perceives subjectively, and objects don’t perceive at all. Therefore, the subject/object spectrum is not a spectrum on which one may judge a matter’s truth-value. The spectrum simply describes the nature of the matter at hand — subjective means “of a subject” and objective means “of an object”. Having said that, how can we define truth more broadly? What determines it?

I think that we can, in many conceivable instances, equate truth with reality. This is based on one of two popular definitions of reality. The first, more popular definition in which we cannot equate truth and reality, and the one I reject, is that of objective, Newtonian-scientific reality. This holds that there are mathematical laws and principles out there in the universe, already discovered or waiting to be discovered, which the forces of nature can be reduced to. Proponents of this view hold “rationality”, in all of its vagueness, as the singular Platonic ideal which dictates what is true, real, and meaningful. It follows from this that mechanistic science holds the key to all knowledge. The problem here is that mechanistic science (not all science) is founded in the metaphysical belief in materialism. Materialism suggests that all reality is comprised of quantifiable matter and energy. Humans, and all living things, are “lumbering robots”, as Richard Dawkins claims. Consciousness, ethics, morality, spirituality, and anything else without a known material basis is subjective in nature and thus superstitious, irrational, and not real. As I have already explained, this worldview rests on a straw-man distinction between what constitutes subjective and objective, for it assumes that this distinction creates a spectrum on which to judge a matter’s truth-value (the more objective, the more true).

Remaining consistent with how I have distinguished subjective and objective is the second, less popular, and in my view, much more useful way of defining truth and reality: what is real is what affords us action and drives us toward a goal. The definition is as simple as that, but its implications have a tremendous amount of depth rooted in the unknown. Instead of holding one Platonic ideal (like rationality) as the key to all truth, there are an infinite number of ideals that humans conceptualize, both individually and collectively, in order to achieve their ends. Therefore, this view affords relevance to a wide range of perspectives even if the nature of the objects being perceived is unknown. The rationalist view, by contrast, is limited to the assumption that the nature of everything has already been determined to fit into one of two metaphysical categories: objective reality or subjective delusion. (This Newtonian theory of reality I have just explained, by the way, is a long-winded way of defining ‘scientism’, a term I often use in my posts.)

Nature doesn’t obey laws; humans do, so we tend to compartmentalize everything else in that way because that makes it easier for us to explain what we want to know and explain-away anything we don’t want to know. What we don’t want to know is what we are afraid of, and as it turns out, what we are afraid of is the unknown. So, when anomalies, whether personal or scientific, that don’t fit the already-established laws arise, a Newtonian thinker will categorize it as illusory in order to explain it away. This doesn’t work because even we humans have a propensity to break the laws that we create for ourselves, and this can be a very productive thing. The degrees to which this is the case depends on our individual psychological makeups. People who are high in the Big-5 personality trait conscientiousness, for example, tend to obey rules because of their innate need for outward structure and order. Those who are low in that trait are more likely to break rules, especially if they are also low in agreeableness which measures one’s tendency to compromise and achieve harmony in social situations. Openness, on the other hand, the trait correlated with intellect and creativity, allows one to see beyond the rules and break them for the right reasons — when they are holding one back from progress, for example. These are just three of five broad personality traits that have an abundance of scientific research to potentially confirm their realness and usefulness, even as a rationalist/Newtonian might perceive them. However, the tendency of someone to break rules as a result of their psychological makeup does not only apply to political laws. We also create collective social rules among groups of friends and unconscious conceptual rules for ourselves in order to more easily understand our environment, and those systems satisfy the same basic human needs and take the same hierarchical forms as political order does, and they serve purposes that contrast only in terms of their widespread-ness.

Regardless of our individual psychologies, there are commonalities that all humans share in terms of which types of goals we have and which types of things drive us toward or away from action. Those things are, therefore, collectively subjective across humanity and are what I would like to propose the most universally real and true things (insofar as anything can be universally real or true at all). This leads me to elaborate further on this goal-oriented view of reality.

Since I used Newton as a scientific lens through which to understand the rationalist theory of reality, I will do the same thing to explain the goal-based theory that I am proposing, but this time using Darwin. Philosophically speaking, Darwin did not commit himself to his theories in the same law-sense that Newton did his. In fact, many of Darwin’s ideas have recently been found to be rooted in psychology rather than in hard mechanistic biology. His main principle can be summed up with this: nature selects, and we make choices, based on what we judge to be most likely to allow us to survive and reproduce. That is all. Everything else is just detailed justification which may or may not be true or relevant. In fact, Darwin left open the possibility that the details of his evolutionary theory not only could be wrong, but that they probably were, and he was very serious about that. To take all of those details literally leads one into the same logical trap that the “skeptics/ new atheists” fall into when they obsess over the details of the Bible — they oversimplify and misrepresent its meaning, and therefore overlook the broader, most important points that exist. These are straw-man arguments, and they demonstrate a persistent, juvenile lack and rejection of intellect.

The reason Darwin’s main evolutionary principle is psychological is because it is consistent with Carl Jung’s idea of the archetype. An archetype is any ancient, unconscious pattern of behavior common among groups or the entirety of the human population and their ancestors. The need for all living beings, not only humans, to survive and reproduce, is undoubtedly real. It is something we understand so little, yet it drives an inconceivably wide range of behaviors, most of which are taken for granted to the extent that they are unconscious (e.g. sex-drive is causally related to the desire to reproduce). It is not only in the natural world that humans would have to desperately fight for their life against other species, but even among ourselves in the civilized world have there been instances of radical attempts to wipe out masses of people because one group saw another group’s ideologies as threatening to their own survival and prosperity (e.g. both Hitler and Stalin led such endeavors in the 20th century).

Perhaps, instead, if we equate truth with this archetypal, goal-oriented conception of reality, then we can come to a reasonable conclusion about what constitutes truth: that which affords and drives us to action. That is to say that (capital-T) Truth, in the idealistic, rationalist sense, probably does not exist, and if it does, our five senses will never have the capacity to understand it. The best we can achieve and conceive is that which is true-enough. For what? For us to achieve our goals: survive, reproduce, and make ends meet, and if we are very sophisticated and open, to also introspect, to be honest with ourselves and others, and to live a moral and just life.

Typology as a Step Toward Critical Thinking

Britton William FrostLeave a comment

One of the key aims of philosophy, for the individual, is to simply become more open-minded. It is to broaden one’s understanding of what is logical and illogical, rational and irrational, not merely to himself, but actually. This is extremely difficult, so most philosophy course syllabi will include a disclaimer such as this one:

WARNING!
Doing philosophy requires a willingness to think critically. Critical thinking does not consist in merely making claims. Rather, it requires offering reasons/evidence in support of your claims. It also requires your willingness to entertain criticism from
others who do not share your assumptions. You will be required to do philosophy in this class. Doing philosophy can be hazardous to your cherished beliefs. Consequently, if you are unwilling to participate, to subject your views to critical analysis, to explore issues that cannot be resolved empirically, using computers, or watching Sci-Fi, then my course is not for you.
–Rob Stufflebeam (University of New Orleans)

Harsh? For many, it is. After extensive, philosophical examination of our beliefs via criticism from others or otherwise, we should find that they are founded on many assumptions. Of course, one cannot make any argument without some preexisting assumption(s). Perhaps the challenge, for some, lies in choosing which assumptions to submit to and which to debate. For the philosopher, though, the challenge is much more broad and often more difficult. Philosophy isn’t about formulating beliefs from nothing, but rather, if not to develop beliefs which can be justified and maintained in a logically consistent way, to eliminate belief altogether.

It may seem ironic that the aim of the philosopher is precisely to not have “a philosophy” in the conventional sense of the term. I would argue, though, that this is not a conscious aim of philosophy (perhaps that is the conscious aim of art). After all, good philosophers are not grumpy, old, bigoted skeptics in the way some may think. Rather, this unbelief is merely a byproduct of having explored a subject in a philosophical way, i.e. impartially. As I explained in a previous post, There are no “philosophical problems” per se; there are only philosophical approaches to a problem, and one can approach any problem philosophically.

What do philosophical approaches to problems do for us? The short answer is “lots of stuff”. Let us consider this example: Let us suppose that a man named Scott stands at the foot of a deciduous forest in the winter long after all of the trees’ leaves have fallen off. In front of the forest, in Scott’s plain view, are two large, lush, and green coniferous firs. Scott’s wife, Cindy, asks him “how many trees do you see?”. He answers “two”, for the firs, so green and lush, are the clearest things in his immediate view that resemble what he conceives to be trees.

Cindy’s question initially seemed like a very straight-forward, mathematical question. But Scott jumped to the conclusion that firs, not trees in general, were the objects Cindy wanted him to count. Of course there are many deciduous trees directly behind the two firs. He could have very well replied ‘a bunch; too many to count’ if he had simply looked past the eye-catching firs to the vast-yet-barren, leafless forest. As we know, the deciduous trees are every bit as alive as the firs; they’re only dormant for the winter. Even if Cindy’s question specified the firs as the trees for Scott to count, answering in a straightforward way might pose more questions, leading to a philosophical discussion about, say, mathematics (e.g. what is meant by “two firs” when the trees literally have so little in common?).

This is just a metaphoric example, but the point is this: an aim of approaching questions in a philosophical (and similarly, an artistic) manner is to gain the ability to see past what is immediately present to us. After all, what is immediately present to us are often dubious assumptions formulated by culture, nurture, institutions, etc.

Immediately, one might see why this type of “critical thinking” can not only be difficult, but get us into trouble, and it often does. Not only are individual’s beliefs founded on assumptions which are very often irrational, but the same is the case for belief systems of businesses, institutions, and personal relationships. People in these contexts can be very sensitive to criticism. “Power-in-numbers” exists and is very often harmful in a philosophical sense, for collective bodies are generally more easily influenced by foolish belief systems than individuals are (cult mentality). Those who break from the group and question things in a fundamental way are only thinking for themselves. They become outcasts, albeit curious and honest ones. Just as an individual should strive for harmony between his outer world and inner self, so should a group be resistant to any type of dogmatism. How do we achieve this?

There is no sure-fire solution, for if there were, it would follow that all people innately think the same way, and this is obviously not the case. In fact, thinking for yourself, which is to say, thinking differently from everyone else, is absolutely vital if you want to thrive in any regard. Philosophy and critical thinking in general can help if one is up for the challenge, but it is not advisable for just anyone to dive right into philosophical reading and discussion (Philosophy is difficult, and few people have the natural tendency to think openly about sensitive subjects to the extent that one must to be successful in philosophical discussion – see the WARNING above). There are other ways.

Each person has a different mind which presents a new set of challenges – challenges for which they will find solutions only if they come to terms with themselves first. For an outwardly-focused extrovert, this generally means finding comfort in one’s own skin. For an inwardly-focused introvert, it means finding one’s place in the outer world. However, it is much more complicated than that. This has been one basis for why I think Jungian typology, personality psychology, and light aesthetics, for the general population, present more relatable ways to deal with questions that are normally of concern to ethics and moral philosophy. No one broad ethical theory will satisfy everyone, and I find it nearly impossible to adapt such a theory to a wide range of people in a conceptual sense, and even less so in a practical sense. Typology is an extremely effective method for understanding one’s self and others.

How can each individual maximize his or her ability to think, act, and thrive? First of all, we must acknowledge that every person has his or her own version of the “good life”, so it is his or her goal to figure out what that is and aspire to it by maximizing his or her cognitive potential, so ethics does not, at least initially, seem to be of much use. This sort of “self-actualization” can be vital, also, for maximizing one’s participation in philosophical discussion. However, before one subjects him or herself to harsh philosophical criticism, it is advisable for one to come to know him or herself. Jungian typology is a great method for taking that first step, and then, perhaps, philosophy can pave the rest of the path.

To be continued…