INITIAL DEFINITION. As an accusation, the term "rationalization" appears in casual conversations, weblog posts, and formal essays. Examples I have heard are: "Her explanation sounds like a rationalization to me." "Is what he said really true, or is it just a rationalization?" "His whole theory is a rationalization!"
A mundane but classic example of rationalization, is: "'I bought the matzo bread from Kroger's Supermarket because it is the cheapest brand and I wanted to save money', says Alex (who knows he bought the bread from Kroger's . . . because his girlfriend works there [and he wanted to see her but without admitting his interest])."[1]
As an initial definition then rationalization refers to someone justifying what he is doing with an explanation that he knows--at some level in his mind--is not the true reason for his action, but one he made up to make his behavior appear to be more acceptable.
STANDARD USAGES OF THE TERM. Wherever possible, I prefer using terms/ideas as they are conventionally used--to make communication easier. My home dictionary offers this primary conventional usage of "rationalize": "1. to ascribe (one's acts, opinions, etc.) to causes that superficially seem reasonable and valid but . . . actually are unrelated to the true, possibly unconscious and often less creditable or agreeable causes."[2] This usage captures the fact (1) that a rationalization is a statement; (2) that the statement is false; and (3) that the statement is designed to make the speaker's behavior appear to be acceptable.
An online dictionary of psychology defines "rationalization" thus: "A defense mechanism where one believes or states an acceptable explanation for a behavior as opposed to the real explanation." And defense mechanisms are: "Psychological forces which prevent undesirable or inappropriate impulses from entering consciousness (e.g., forgetting responsibilities that we really didn't want to do, projecting anger onto a spouse as opposed to your boss)."[3]
An online philosophical dictionary describes the fallacy of rationalization thus: "We rationalize when we inauthentically offer reasons to support our claim. We are rationalizing when we give someone a reason to justify our action even though we know this reason is not really our own reason for our action, usually because the offered reason will sound better to the audience than our actual reason."[4]
AYN RAND'S VIEW. Ayn Rand, who developed Objectivism, the philosophy that I have adopted, also classifies rationalization as a psychological phenomenon, "a process of providing one's emotions with a false identity, of giving them spurious explanations and justifications--in order to hide one's motives, not just from others, but primarily from oneself."[5] "Rationalization is a process not of perceiving reality, but of attempting to make reality fit one's emotions." Further, Ayn Rand notes, as the term/idea applies to a person who is taking a particular philosophical position, rationalization means: "I can't prove it, but I feel that it's true."
WHAT RATIONALIZATION IS NOT. "Lying" is not synonymous with "rationalizing." Lying, which is consciously making false statements to gain or keep a value, is the general case. Rationalizing, if done consciously, is differentiated from other cases of lying by its purpose: making one's own actions appear to oneself or others to be morally acceptable. A con man may lie to his victim to get the victim's life savings, but the con man, in that instance, is defrauding not rationalizing. The con man might rationalize later in a courtroom by telling himself and the judge that we live in a rotten world and that scams are the only way to earn a living.
Nor is rationalization innocently providing a merely false explanation developed through an error in information or in method of handling the information. Rationalization, whether done consciously or subconsciously, is goal-directed not inadvertent. In this way, I would suggest, rationalizations are arbitrary not false. There is no connection to reality, not even a "broken" one that arises from error.
PROOF OF RATIONALIZATION? How can I know someone is rationalizing? In other words, what constitutes proof of this behavior? To even suspect that a person is rationalizing, I must know the person well (even if only through his writings, as with Kant) or I must have enough knowledge of the situation he is describing (that objects must conform to our a priori knowledge of them) to doubt his explanation (which conveniently serves to "make room for faith").
For example, in the case of Alex, named in the example at the beginning of this post, I would need to know him well enough to doubt that he would ever spend time going to a particular store merely to save money on one product--because I already know he is disorganized, uncaring about the future, and an impulse buyer who pays little attention to prices.
If I suspected rationalization, based on my knowledge of the person and the situation he is describing (in a way that makes his behavior seem credible and creditable), then I would need to inquire further, either by asking him questions (and observing his manner of handling them--such as evasiveness or incoherence) or by investigating the situation further (for example, by asking his friends if Alex has any connection to Kroeger's).
For the realm of philosophy, Ayn Rand offers two leads for uncovering rationalization. First: "When a theory achieves nothing but the opposite of its alleged goals, yet its advocates remain undeterred, you may be certain that it is not a conviction or an 'ideal', but a rationalization."
Second: When a person uses false philosophical catch phrases to excuse his reprehensible beliefs then he might be rationalizing. Ayn Rand identifies six common philsophical catch phrases rationalizers use: "Nobody can be certain of anything . . . It may be true for you , but it's not true for me . . . Nobody is perfect in this world . . . Nobody can help anything he does . . . It may have been true yesterday, but it's not true today . . . Logic has nothing to do with reality . . . ." These catch phrases provide a philosophical justification for taking an intellectual position that is not otherwise creditable or even credible.
CONCLUSIONS. Rationalizing is fake reasoning for the purpose of convincing oneself or others that one's actions are proper--done either consciously (in which case it is immoral) or as an automatic and hidden act of the subconscious (in which case it is a form of mental illness). The actions being justified may range from social behavior to taking a particular intellectual position. Even mere implausibility of an explanation can be grounds for suspicion, but proof of rationalization requires argumentation based on detailed evidence gained through inquiry. In most cases, fortunately, one need not prove another person is rationalizing; rather, the suspect carries the burden of proving his statements--if the situation is serious enough to demand proof.
Burgess Laughlin
Author, The Power and the Glory: The Key Ideas and Crusading Lives of Eight Debaters of Reason vs. Faith
[1] For the matzo example: "Rationalization" in the "Fallacy" article of the Internet Encyclopedia of Philosophy. [2] Random House Dictionary of the English Language, 2nd ed., unabridged. I am ignoring radically different uses of the term "rationalization" in mathematics, architecture, and economics. [3] From "Rationalization" and "Defenses (Defense Mechanisms)," AllPsychOnline. [4] "Rationalization," listed in the "Fallacy" article of the Internet Encyclopedia of Philosophy. [5] This and subsequent references to or quotations from Ayn Rand come from: Ayn Rand, "Rationalization," The Ayn Rand Lexicon, citing Ayn Rand, "Philosophical Detection," Philosophy: Who Needs It, pp. 21 and 24(hb) or pp. 18 and 20 (pb).]
Showing posts with label proof. Show all posts
Showing posts with label proof. Show all posts
Nov 30, 2008
Mar 3, 2008
What do historians owe to their audiences?
Having written the Jan. 2 and Jan. 10, 2008 posts as preliminary steps, I can now answer the title question in a straight-forward manner: Historians owe their audiences whatever their contracts require them to provide--and nothing more. If there is no contract, a historian owes his audience nothing. He is free to provide as much information as he chooses to offer.
1. OBJECTION: Doesn't a historian owe his listeners a complete proof of whatever assertions he makes?
No writer or speaker can provide a complete proof. The best that any historical writer or speaker can do is point the way and sketch the major steps of a proof. A complete proof of a complex assertion--e.g., the most fundamental cause of the U. S. Civil War was a radical and mutual opposition in the worldviews of the two sides--could require years of effort and its exact path would differ from one individual to the next according to their differences in knowledge of the subject matter.
2. OBJECTION: Doesn't every historian owe his audience some kind of substantiation for every conclusion he reaches?
No, unless his contract requires him to do so. Take an obvious example first: An editor of a magazine interviews 10 historians and asks them for their conclusions about the role of Aristotle's works on logic in advancing medieval culture toward the Renaissance. Each historian complies--by providing his conclusions and nothing more. The editor then collects the 10 conclusions and publishes them in an article on the diversity of views among historians. Some readers might be left with wanting more. Too bad. If they want more, and are willing to pay for it, in one way or another, then they should do so without complaining that the participating historians were being elitists of the Ivory Tower who won't address their audience on an equal level.
Take another example: An online forum consults a history professor as an (unpaid) expert on the religiosity of John Locke. The professor responds with a very brief answer. His unstated, private purpose is simply to keep his name visible among individuals who might buy his books or attend his for-fee lectures. He promises nothing more. He adjusts the length of his answer to fit his purposes, not the generally unknowable individual purposes of an anonymous audience.
3. OBJECTION: Isn't a historian being arrogant or even arbitrary if all he provides is a terse answer to a question, a question that the asker wants to discuss further or even debate?
This is an issue that comes up especially in formal lectures. For example, listen to the Q&A periods for the first few lectures in Dr. Leonard Peikoff's 2007 discussion of "The DIM Hypothesis" (available through the Ayn Rand Bookstore). In each case, Dr. Peikoff finishes a session (which was typically a walkthrough* of his upcoming book, rather than a formal, self-contained lecture) and then calls for questions.
A few of the questioners do not merely ask a question. Instead, after Dr. Peikoff's answer, they persist in trying to discuss or even debate his answer. The error here is an instance of context-dropping. In particular it is dropping the law of identity as applied to the Q&A sessions. A question-and-answer period is a question-and-answer period. A question-and-answer period is not a discussion period. A question-and-answer period is not a debate forum. Dr. Peikoff rightly refuses to allow individuals in the audience to draw him into either discussion or debate.
If an advertisement for a lecture promises a Q&A session, but makes no other specification, the lecturer is not obligated to turn questions (even if they are pertinent and properly worded) into discussions or debates. If an audience member pays to hear an expert, and the expert speaks, then the audience has heard him. If audience members think the answers are wrong or insufficient for their needs, then the audience members can in the future take their business elsewhere--or, better yet, they can offer a superior product of their own.
In summary, I would say that, in the absence of any contractual requirements to the contrary, no historian has an obligation to provide any particular amount of elaboration or proof of his assertions.
Burgess Laughlin
Author, The Power and the Glory: The Key Ideas and Crusading Lives of Eight Debaters of Reason vs. Faith
* A "walkthrough" is a form of communication I witnessed in the electronics industry several decades ago. It was a form used by designers of electronic instrumentation, especially the sofware and firmware aspects. A software designer, for example, would address a small group of other designers, as well as manufacturing and marketing engineers. He would "walk through" his partially completed design, describing its intended functions step by step. In some steps, he could display code that he had written. In other steps, he could show only a block-diagram of what he intended the operation of the software to be when finished. His purpose was to present enough information that his audience could (1) have a general idea of what the design is; and (2) offer informed criticism (that is, pointing out possible errors and offering superior alternatives).
In Dr. Peikoff's 2004 DIM Hypothesis sessions, which are no longer available, he was fully engaged in a walkthrough. He explained the provisional nature of his hypothesis at that time; and he invited criticism. By contrast, Dr. Peikoff's 2007 walkthroughs are, I infer, much more oriented toward presenting his conclusions as a test of his ability to present them and his audience's ability to understand them, as presented, than of their correctness.
1. OBJECTION: Doesn't a historian owe his listeners a complete proof of whatever assertions he makes?
No writer or speaker can provide a complete proof. The best that any historical writer or speaker can do is point the way and sketch the major steps of a proof. A complete proof of a complex assertion--e.g., the most fundamental cause of the U. S. Civil War was a radical and mutual opposition in the worldviews of the two sides--could require years of effort and its exact path would differ from one individual to the next according to their differences in knowledge of the subject matter.
2. OBJECTION: Doesn't every historian owe his audience some kind of substantiation for every conclusion he reaches?
No, unless his contract requires him to do so. Take an obvious example first: An editor of a magazine interviews 10 historians and asks them for their conclusions about the role of Aristotle's works on logic in advancing medieval culture toward the Renaissance. Each historian complies--by providing his conclusions and nothing more. The editor then collects the 10 conclusions and publishes them in an article on the diversity of views among historians. Some readers might be left with wanting more. Too bad. If they want more, and are willing to pay for it, in one way or another, then they should do so without complaining that the participating historians were being elitists of the Ivory Tower who won't address their audience on an equal level.
Take another example: An online forum consults a history professor as an (unpaid) expert on the religiosity of John Locke. The professor responds with a very brief answer. His unstated, private purpose is simply to keep his name visible among individuals who might buy his books or attend his for-fee lectures. He promises nothing more. He adjusts the length of his answer to fit his purposes, not the generally unknowable individual purposes of an anonymous audience.
3. OBJECTION: Isn't a historian being arrogant or even arbitrary if all he provides is a terse answer to a question, a question that the asker wants to discuss further or even debate?
This is an issue that comes up especially in formal lectures. For example, listen to the Q&A periods for the first few lectures in Dr. Leonard Peikoff's 2007 discussion of "The DIM Hypothesis" (available through the Ayn Rand Bookstore). In each case, Dr. Peikoff finishes a session (which was typically a walkthrough* of his upcoming book, rather than a formal, self-contained lecture) and then calls for questions.
A few of the questioners do not merely ask a question. Instead, after Dr. Peikoff's answer, they persist in trying to discuss or even debate his answer. The error here is an instance of context-dropping. In particular it is dropping the law of identity as applied to the Q&A sessions. A question-and-answer period is a question-and-answer period. A question-and-answer period is not a discussion period. A question-and-answer period is not a debate forum. Dr. Peikoff rightly refuses to allow individuals in the audience to draw him into either discussion or debate.
If an advertisement for a lecture promises a Q&A session, but makes no other specification, the lecturer is not obligated to turn questions (even if they are pertinent and properly worded) into discussions or debates. If an audience member pays to hear an expert, and the expert speaks, then the audience has heard him. If audience members think the answers are wrong or insufficient for their needs, then the audience members can in the future take their business elsewhere--or, better yet, they can offer a superior product of their own.
In summary, I would say that, in the absence of any contractual requirements to the contrary, no historian has an obligation to provide any particular amount of elaboration or proof of his assertions.
Burgess Laughlin
Author, The Power and the Glory: The Key Ideas and Crusading Lives of Eight Debaters of Reason vs. Faith
* A "walkthrough" is a form of communication I witnessed in the electronics industry several decades ago. It was a form used by designers of electronic instrumentation, especially the sofware and firmware aspects. A software designer, for example, would address a small group of other designers, as well as manufacturing and marketing engineers. He would "walk through" his partially completed design, describing its intended functions step by step. In some steps, he could display code that he had written. In other steps, he could show only a block-diagram of what he intended the operation of the software to be when finished. His purpose was to present enough information that his audience could (1) have a general idea of what the design is; and (2) offer informed criticism (that is, pointing out possible errors and offering superior alternatives).
In Dr. Peikoff's 2004 DIM Hypothesis sessions, which are no longer available, he was fully engaged in a walkthrough. He explained the provisional nature of his hypothesis at that time; and he invited criticism. By contrast, Dr. Peikoff's 2007 walkthroughs are, I infer, much more oriented toward presenting his conclusions as a test of his ability to present them and his audience's ability to understand them, as presented, than of their correctness.
Jan 10, 2008
How much proof must a historian offer?
PROBLEM: In communicating his ideas to others, how much proof must a historian offer?
IMAGINARY EXAMPLE: Let's say historian Dr. A writes an essay whose purpose is to persuade readers to adopt a certain idea. His publisher, the Journal of the Intellectual History of France in the Central Middle Ages, sets a length limit at only 2000 words. Within that limit, the historian must present and prove his thesis: Siger of Brabant--a teacher of liberal arts in the university at Paris, c. 1265--was the first academic to try to establish philosophy as an autonomous discipline, that is, a field of university study that is independent of the demands of the "science" of theology (the mistress whose handmaiden is philosophy).
Given the circumstances (for example, the brevity of the essay and the fact that an essay allows no question-and-answer process for clarification or elaboration), Dr. A realizes that he must hold modest expectations of success. He intends only to sketch the basic points of a line of proof for his theme.
In Dr. A's essay, a single sentence states his theme. Directly or indirectly, the other sentences (all statements about past reality) are elements of his proof of his theme. By citing primary and secondary sources in medieval and modern texts, the essay's footnotes elaborate some of the proofs or at least lead readers to further information and argumentation. By citing examples at various stages of his argument, he is connecting his theme to (past) reality, even if he is not offering a full, explicit chain of proof back to sense-perceptible reality.
Dr. A's essay is completely objective (that is, the conclusions follow logically from facts of reality) and yet it contains not even one self-evident statement. A proof is one form of validation, the form in which a thinker connects evidence (ultimately, sense-perceptible) step by logical step to his conclusion, the one to be proven.
In the chain of Dr. A's proof, reaching back from the theme to sense-perceptible reality, there is a "gap" between the lowest links in the chain of his proof and the sense-perceptible reality subsumed by his theme. This gap often appears in historical writing, wherein the "reality" of the past consists in a few artifacts--such as a thousand-year-old manuscript or an inscription chiseled on a stone monument--surviving from past times; such evidence must be interpreted and is not self-evident.
What an objective writer ultimately relies on to connect his theme to sense-perceptible reality, besides the immediate and necessarily abbreviated argument (proof) he presents, is the fact of shared context. In our example essay, Dr. A defines his intended audience as being at least graduate students in the field of medieval French history, specializing in 13th Century philosophical transmission.
By defining his audience in this narrow way, he is trying to ensure that he and his target readers have the same context--that is, the same set of relevant knowledge outside the immediate content of his essay. Presumably the writer and his readers can then, on demand, connect that shared context to sense-perceptible reality. For instance, given his theme and his definition of audience, Dr. A does not need to prove that a university existed in Paris in 1265. What he does need to prove, to some contextually-determined degree, is that Siger held and advocated the idea of autonomy for philosophy as a field of study in the university.
Especially outside the field of philosophy, objective writers seldom need to prove their themes down to the level of explicit self-evidencies. The writers and their intended audiences share a context of knowledge which, in turn, presumably they can, on demand, connect to sense-perceptible reality.
CONCLUSION. A writer needs to offer enough proof of his theme to achieve his purpose for the audience he is addressing in the chosen circumstances. All three factors--the writer's purpose, his intended audience, and his circumstances--set the context that drives the writer's decision to provide such-and-such amount of proof for his theme.
Burgess Laughlin
Author, The Power and the Glory: The Key Ideas and Crusading Lives of Eight Debaters of Reason vs. Faith
P. S. 1 -- Corollary: Criticizing an author, in a particular piece of writing, for "failing" to prove his case down to sense-perceptible reality is to expect the impossible. An author need only provide as much proof as his purpose, audience, and circumstances demand. In certain contexts, he can rightly assume that his audience can take the remaining steps on a path to a complete proof.
P. S. 2 -- My January 2, 2008 article on self-evidency was preliminary to this article on amount of proof. This article on amount of proof, in turn, is preliminary to another problem I have been wrestling with: What is the proper relationship between an intellectual and his audience? What do they owe each other, if anything? Originally these various subjects were a single cognitive traffic-jam. At least I have now sorted them onto three--interconnecting--roads. I am making progress.
IMAGINARY EXAMPLE: Let's say historian Dr. A writes an essay whose purpose is to persuade readers to adopt a certain idea. His publisher, the Journal of the Intellectual History of France in the Central Middle Ages, sets a length limit at only 2000 words. Within that limit, the historian must present and prove his thesis: Siger of Brabant--a teacher of liberal arts in the university at Paris, c. 1265--was the first academic to try to establish philosophy as an autonomous discipline, that is, a field of university study that is independent of the demands of the "science" of theology (the mistress whose handmaiden is philosophy).
Given the circumstances (for example, the brevity of the essay and the fact that an essay allows no question-and-answer process for clarification or elaboration), Dr. A realizes that he must hold modest expectations of success. He intends only to sketch the basic points of a line of proof for his theme.
In Dr. A's essay, a single sentence states his theme. Directly or indirectly, the other sentences (all statements about past reality) are elements of his proof of his theme. By citing primary and secondary sources in medieval and modern texts, the essay's footnotes elaborate some of the proofs or at least lead readers to further information and argumentation. By citing examples at various stages of his argument, he is connecting his theme to (past) reality, even if he is not offering a full, explicit chain of proof back to sense-perceptible reality.
Dr. A's essay is completely objective (that is, the conclusions follow logically from facts of reality) and yet it contains not even one self-evident statement. A proof is one form of validation, the form in which a thinker connects evidence (ultimately, sense-perceptible) step by logical step to his conclusion, the one to be proven.
In the chain of Dr. A's proof, reaching back from the theme to sense-perceptible reality, there is a "gap" between the lowest links in the chain of his proof and the sense-perceptible reality subsumed by his theme. This gap often appears in historical writing, wherein the "reality" of the past consists in a few artifacts--such as a thousand-year-old manuscript or an inscription chiseled on a stone monument--surviving from past times; such evidence must be interpreted and is not self-evident.
What an objective writer ultimately relies on to connect his theme to sense-perceptible reality, besides the immediate and necessarily abbreviated argument (proof) he presents, is the fact of shared context. In our example essay, Dr. A defines his intended audience as being at least graduate students in the field of medieval French history, specializing in 13th Century philosophical transmission.
By defining his audience in this narrow way, he is trying to ensure that he and his target readers have the same context--that is, the same set of relevant knowledge outside the immediate content of his essay. Presumably the writer and his readers can then, on demand, connect that shared context to sense-perceptible reality. For instance, given his theme and his definition of audience, Dr. A does not need to prove that a university existed in Paris in 1265. What he does need to prove, to some contextually-determined degree, is that Siger held and advocated the idea of autonomy for philosophy as a field of study in the university.
Especially outside the field of philosophy, objective writers seldom need to prove their themes down to the level of explicit self-evidencies. The writers and their intended audiences share a context of knowledge which, in turn, presumably they can, on demand, connect to sense-perceptible reality.
CONCLUSION. A writer needs to offer enough proof of his theme to achieve his purpose for the audience he is addressing in the chosen circumstances. All three factors--the writer's purpose, his intended audience, and his circumstances--set the context that drives the writer's decision to provide such-and-such amount of proof for his theme.
Burgess Laughlin
Author, The Power and the Glory: The Key Ideas and Crusading Lives of Eight Debaters of Reason vs. Faith
P. S. 1 -- Corollary: Criticizing an author, in a particular piece of writing, for "failing" to prove his case down to sense-perceptible reality is to expect the impossible. An author need only provide as much proof as his purpose, audience, and circumstances demand. In certain contexts, he can rightly assume that his audience can take the remaining steps on a path to a complete proof.
P. S. 2 -- My January 2, 2008 article on self-evidency was preliminary to this article on amount of proof. This article on amount of proof, in turn, is preliminary to another problem I have been wrestling with: What is the proper relationship between an intellectual and his audience? What do they owe each other, if anything? Originally these various subjects were a single cognitive traffic-jam. At least I have now sorted them onto three--interconnecting--roads. I am making progress.
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