Philosophers over the centuries have struggled to come to terms with what a human is, at heart: are we rational or primarily emotional beings? If current research is to believed, it would seem that the answer to that question is “yes”. Humans are both rational and emotional. Which means that we are often irrational for emotional reasons. But, according to Jonathon Haidt (in The Righteous Mind, reviewed this blog), it appears that the notion that we can detach our reason from our emotions is a bit of a pipe dream, as it seems that the emotions are a vital support system for our intellect and reason.
On consideration this makes sense. After all, both our emotions and our reason have evolved together for a long, long time. If one or the other were superfluous, one or the other would have been cast adrift (by natural selection) a long time ago. This by no means tells us that our particular blend of feeling and thinking are the perfect answer to meeting life’s challenges. It only tells us that this combination is what came of the raw animal materials evolution had to work with, and that it was sufficient to the challenge of our specie’s survival.
There have been a rash of studies of late comparing the so-called “liberal” and “conservative” mind. I have no doubt that there is validity to the comparisons that show that “conservative” minded people crave stability over novelty, and that the “liberal” minded are just the opposite. (The potentially nefarious aspect of this news is the way in which this “fact” can be employed as yet one more cudgel to minimize the views of one’s political enemies. Science is always influenced by the cultural ideas current in the society at large, so I am awaiting the further research that will put these findings in a more complete perspective).
But in the meantime, we are left with the realization that not all human minds work in the same way. Certainly we are all on a limited spectrum, so we’re not really talking apples and car alarms here, but variations on a theme. As Haidt points out in his research (described so well in The Righteous Mind), all of us humans have a moral sense, but this sense turns out to act more like a collection of different moral “taste buds” than universally-calibrated on and off switches. Which means the thing that morally outrages me may only mildly bother you. This, I think, is clearly true, and it is the main reason that liberals and conservatives can shout at each other all the live long day and not make a dent in each other’s views.
This is the damnable and frustrating thing about this kind of knowledge: it seems to make any idea of human unanimity appear ever more remote. We may have moved a great distance from our original blood-kin tribalism, but we remain tribal to a large degree, and our current level of tribalism may have moved beyond the nationalism that marked the last few centuries of our history to a more ideological form of in-group identification. Hence, the rationalist idea that one can simply educate an uninformed person with facts and thereby change that person’s opinion is proving unequal to the challenge of obliterating the many strains of dangerous ignorance that plague our species.
Of course I’m thinking of one of the great current divides, which is that between Islam and “the West” (which could just as easily be called “Christiandom”, though with much qualification). Never mind that the fundamentalist Christian and the fundamentalist Muslim have much more in common than they would care to admit, they would certainly consider themselves as inhabiting completely opposite world views.
And this is where we can find as good of an example as any of one of the great unacknowledged barriers to a reason-based shift in worldview: identity.
Being the profoundly social animals that we are, we seek out other humans among whom we feel comfortable and understood. And so we might join a church with a list of doctrines that we can easily assent to, and thereafter shape ourselves ever more like our fellow church members in both our moral likes and dislikes. It’s easy to see that membership groups like this are not random cross-sections of a variety of people, but tend to be naturally self-selecting populations. (As my brother Chuck once told me: “A church is a group of people who all share the same sin”).
And so it immediately becomes apparent why any human who has identified with one group or another would be doubly resistant to a radical change in their views on any topic that is important to their inclusion in the group. Add to this the reality that our brains process information that comes from a trusted source by first believing it without question, and doubting it only after much extra post-hoc effort, and you have a naturally strong resistance to change.
There is, of course, another barrier to consensus, and that is found in those whose worldview happens to be one that does not easily align with physical reality. I’m talking here about “faith” positions, that allow any and all kinds of physical phenomenon to be interpreted in a way that confirms religious or ideological world views. For example, a natural weather event such as a hurricane, or the explosion of a meteor over Russia, will be taken as events with a spiritual (as opposed to a natural) cause. This kind of thinking creates what I’d call an “insulated ignorance”, meaning it is a lack of knowledge that is active in preserving a certain informational vacuum (active far beyond the usual passing discomfort any of us feels when having to admit we were wrong on a fact). We see this especially with regards to historic worldviews that have been carried forward into a period of history where science continues to present factual challenges that — if these worldviews are to survive — simply must not be accepted. They are living artifacts of human ignorance, fighting tooth and nail for their very lives.
So when we look at the reality of how most humans really operate, the real question turns out to be not why more people aren’t open to changing their minds, but why we thought people could easily change their minds in the first place?
Liberal or conservative, it turns out that most humans are innately conservative (at least if we consider the “moderate” human to also be “conservative” in relation to the “liberal” members of the tribe). In evolutionary terms, this mix makes sense. Every tribe needs risk takers to rise to unusual challenges, but it also needs those who are more attuned to staying home and keeping the woodpile stocked and the tent mended. And there is a reason that most religious conversations occur among the young (whose personalities are still very much in flux), and much more rarely in adults (who have already begun to “lock in” to their ideology).
I see myself as having become someone who responds to evidence, and who is willing to change his mind about things when facts prove me wrong. Now, one could argue that I’m no better at this than any other human, but I don’t think that case would be strong. True, I’m susceptible to all of the quirks of a human brain whose reason is linked to feeling, but I have also taken advantage of the plasticity of the brain and have developed a relationship between my feelings and my thinking so that it actually feels better for me to see that my views are aligned with our physical reality as much as possible. For a human, I think I do pretty well on that score. But that’s the thing. I am still human.
And I can’t assume that others experience anything like the “positive” feelings I do when absorbing certain (potentially) unnerving scientific facts. For instance, I feel okay accepting the reality that I am most likely not a divine or spiritual being connected to any sort of intelligent creator, or that my body is an evolved version of the body-plan of a lobe-finned fish, or that any and all sense of my self as a distinct personality will cease as soon as my brain stops working. I’ve worked to make my peace with these evidence-based ideas.
But, then, I am not deeply invested in a church group with the added group-binding agents of a wife and children and extended family. True, there was a time when my fall from belief was a source of conflict (and led to ruptured relationships) but that time has (mostly) passed. I do still worry that my words or actions (as they broadcast my deeply-held views) will offend others or damage vital personal relationships. Because, let’s face it, ours is a culture that is permeated with religious and quasi-religious beliefs, be they Christian or “New Age”, and so my (irreligious) views are always going to be at odds with the majority of my fellow humans (even most of my closer friends). Fortunately for all of us, part of our innate social sense is to make allowance for those we love, and it is in the space carved out by such selective social blindness that we find room to stay close to each other, even when we hold very different views on important matters.
Plus, knowing that I am not immune to being wrong (I do have a human brain, after all), I have to maintain a certain humility about even the things that I am most firmly convinced are true (especially those things). And it is this humility among thoughtful people that allows profound ideological differences to coexist without triggering deep social disruption.
There could yet be a wave of reason that will sweep across the globe, dampening the fires of religious extremism or the blinders of ideological dogmatism. Maybe when that happens there will be enough “safety in numbers” that the more “conservative” questioning humans will be willing to jump ship, confident that they won’t be the only ones foregoing the security of their ideological group.
But in the meantime we are left with the unsettling reality that a substantial percentage of humans are resistant (to a greater or lesser degree) to the penetration into their reason of the scientific evidence as it pertains to their own existence. Reality may, indeed, have a “liberal” bias. But humans, most certainly, do not.