Sunday, October 23, 2011

Responses 005 (Nov 2012)

The penultimate topic (Question #5) in the list reads: "Habit is stronger than reason." To what extent is this true in two areas of knowledge?

It's a bit of a let-down compared to the other five topics, and that is why mainly two kinds of students will attempt it: the brilliant risk-takers and the unimaginative. What I'm a little irked about is the lack of attribution: if George Santayana did indeed say this, at least attribute it to him as you did for Einstein and Conan Doyle in the same set! That said, the quotation looks horribly boring on first sight.

No doubt, this kind of question is a staple of the 'Theory of Knowledge Diet', of the form [quotation by famous person] + [request to justify with respect to two (or more) areas of knowledge]. But what to make of the 'X > Y' format used also in Question 3 (which has a better quote from Uncle Albert)?

I think that 'habit' must refer to people doing things automatically (as in 'force of habit'), as opposed to thinking about it first (i.e. 'reason'). If that's the case, then how to link it to areas of knowledge? Surely it's a commonly known fact of human existence that people do things out of habit more easily than with the use of reason.

Perhaps a discussion of the topic can be made more substantial by discussing what exactly 'habit' is. The word 'habit', from the Latin, has the original meaning 'to have' or 'to live in a specific state' — hence 'inhabit'. The modern sense is one of being in a constant state of existence, doing the same things and responding the same way to things.

Habits are patterns of life, patterns of behaviour, that have developed from uncritical existence in specific environmental situations. Here, I have craftily inserted the word 'uncritical'. After all, if one were to be critical, one would probably not continue to live the same way all the time. But it provides us with a proper basis for argument — we can now say that reason is critical, and habit is not. (I used a similar trick when handling this older question.)

Now we have a proper epistemological argument. To what extent, in various areas of knowledge, is uncritical behaviour (not necessarily bad, perhaps instinctive or intuitive) more useful or more powerful than critical behaviour (which must involve reasoning and judgement)? This is where it would be good to draw boundaries between disciplines that require more critical thinking and those requiring less. I've discussed this elsewhere. Enjoy...

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Thursday, January 21, 2010

Political

A short while ago, I told Adobe that I was not a political sort of person. He chuckled a bit, misspelled my name yet once more, and said, "The word is not 'political', the word is 'strategic'."

He was right. It's true to a very large extent that humans are political animals. Given any society at all, they will learn the social behaviours that are considered polite, they will build cohesive units that will eventually bloom into cities.

But 'strategic' is a whole different class of animal. To admit that I am not a strategic sort of person is a painful thing. On further examination, I think that this is true. I am not 'strategic' without a lot of effort. I can approximate the planning and leadership necessary for such a role, but it is not natural to me, and indeed, rather difficult.

It's not that I'm not a team player. Rather, I resent being made to be part of a team when it is obvious that it isn't really one. I've been in teams where the behaviour of some of the members has nothing to do with the explicit goals of the team, but has in fact been in a different direction altogether.

I've had to work with people whose main aim in life is to lead a comfortable existence, not the difficult one which their role demands. This inevitably made some of them toadies, flunkies, and other boot-licking types. The gratuitous rear-grooming kind of behaviour still appalls me, but at least I no longer have to walk past such people and pretend that they are esteemed partners in a high calling.

I'm sure some of my readers have experienced the company of such people too. I'm sure you have cringed whenever one of them tells the boss how great he is because of a dull (or garish) efflorescence of wit. It is akin to people clapping when a certain government minister told the public that a 'final solution' was on the way in the context of national healthcare. You might as well laud the opening of 'concentration camps' or the related improvement in 'mass transit'.

But that's all political stuff, and even if I can't help but being humanly political, I never was able to be strategic about showing my distaste. And that can get a person into trouble, as I've found out several times. What a world we live in!

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Thursday, November 06, 2008

Shifting

Shifting blame, shifting responsibility, shifting one's stand — these are all the habits of a complex world. I don't think of them as egregious character flaws, but as the necessary behaviours of a fallen race. It is not possible to live a life in a world that is constantly contradicting itself without either pandering to these sneaky angels of our nature or becoming a quiet schizophrenic sitting in a corner and metaphorically (or literally) drooling in slack-jawed incontinence.

But there are a few ways to reduce the shiftiness. One is to stake out one's claims in public and let others openly declare how shifty you are being. Unless you are a sociopath, this will curb the habit a little. Similarly, you can key your behaviour to a public standard such as a holy book; whether or not the book is consistent, people can check the book to see if you are sticking to it insofar as it is humanly possible.

Accountability, standards... two legs were never enough for complete stability, although better than one. The third leg of the tripos is principle. This is how it works: you must be able to give an account of yourself (work, life, faith, whatever) in relation to certain fixed standards. But because standards are fixed and the world moves, there must be leeway for interpretation. At the same time, interpretation also has its rules, and these are called principles. This ensures that the standards are interpreted at least according to some meta-rules that you can also be held accountable to.

One example is a legal system: one is held accountable to standards called laws, which result in yes/no consequences; i.e. if you breached the law, you get punished and if you didn't you don't. However, the interpretation of the law by agreed principle is the basis of two parts of the system — is the evidence sufficient to confirm or deny a breach, and how much punishment should then ensue if the breach is confirmed.

Similarly, religious life should also show these three things: one is held accountable to one's religious dogmas, which should then allow people to hold you accountable in social, cultural or legal ways (it depends on how advanced a society you live in). However, those dogmas (technically 'dogmata', I suppose) normally require interpretation, and this is the logical domain of consistent principles called 'hermeneutics'.

Educational systems are not exempt. Any system must be explicable in terms of clear standards and accountability to those standards. The interpretation of those standards by established principles which are also agreed upon provides some flexibility. However, some behaviours are clearly beyond the pale: forging documents and making unjustified claims, removal of evidence, ill-treatment of students.

Here's a final note on 'arbitrariness'. Quite often, people complain about 'arbitrary' behaviour. Well, this is perfectly all right to me as long as the person displaying arbitrary judgement is indeed qualified to be an arbiter in the given situation. A good arbiter knows all the rules and has extensive knowledge of how to apply accepted principles of interpretation to those rules in cases where the operation of the rules may seem insufficient, unusual or inaccurate. He is accountable for his arbitrations in a way that is open to public debate. This can be seen in mostly in transnational bodies, where arbitration is a respectable activity.

In religion, of course, co-religionists should at least agree that their God, gods, or cosmic principles will in time carry out the required arbitration. In Christianity, we are all accountable to God for our actions and intentions. The unusual thing about religion is that by definition, eternal verities and sagacities are not accountable to the adherents of a faith; in that sense, God is 'allowed' and even defined to be the ultimate Arbiter, beyond accountability and hence fully arbitrary.

Which brings us back to the beginning. In a universe in which more than one thing exists, the potential for a shift in state exists and is hence part of the universe. Shifting then becomes an established principle. It does not mean we have to condone every shift, or that all shifts are morally or logically equal. But they must exist, and they must be appraised by a critical mind. Unless mind is an illusion, in which case it doesn't matter. As some anonymous sage once said, "Mind over matter: if you don't mind, it doesn't matter."

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Thursday, July 24, 2008

Dromedary

You look around you, and everything does not move. Has time stopped? Or are you just moving too quickly? Stand there, on the balance point between hyperactivity and stasis, and you will know the pleasure of stillness. For if you do not move, you are faster than you think.

You are also the meanest, the most practical water-conserver and course-racer of them all. For that is what a dromedary is: a race-bred and somewhat intractable steed (if that is what you must be), a violator of norms and of aesthetic conventions.

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Thursday, September 20, 2007

ADDing & Subtracting

A short time ago, I mentioned how the most favourable diagnosis of the most kindly psychonomist would probably still have diagnosed me with ADHD (minus the hyperactivity to some extent). That would have been true for me up till the age of 15.

And yet, I note that whatever Freud got wrong, the superego has a role to play. If I were left unchecked by my own discipline and will, empowered by what I know to be the Spirit (and what others might decide is the environment or something else), I would certainly still act ADHD. Traces of it leak out when I give lectures, for example.

But most of the time I don't. Some aspects of what people call ADHD are utterly controllable with practice and determination. Some are not. When you have subtracted the things which are controllable, you aren't left with much of a disorder. What are you left with?

1) I still sleep at will, and sometimes, by accident. All it takes is someone droning on without engaging my brains, and I will sleep. You can ask my boss, he's seen it and commented on it. You can ask my wife, who is envious. I tell her all it takes is a good conscience and this: '...for He grants sleep to those He loves. (Psalm 127:2). It is one of those things I cannot prove to be true, but I certainly hope is true.

2) I still get very restless unless obsessively engaged in a task. Sometimes, I have to work myself into an obsession before I can finish a task. When I have created the obsessive fixation, I can churn out 10-20 pages in one evening; maybe 10000 words or more. When I cannot find it in me to be obsessed, I'm lucky to get a tenth of that, if at all.

3) I have great temptations to jump up and down and call boring stupid people names. Thank God I have been blessed with a great reduction in those temptations (or a great increase in temperamental fortitude)!

4) I am still easily distracted by snatches of conversation, bars of music, interesting books, the idea of food, the need to experiment. Some time ago, one of my younger acquaintances made a small and messy fire which was pretty much a disaster. The funny thing is that I completely understood why he did it, and I might have done it too at that age.

It's my conclusion, however, that ADHD as a description of a problem with the holistic physical state is a lousy description. There are nine descriptors in Part A. You have ADHD if you have six of those. Simple math tells you that this is (literally) dozens of possible versions of ADHD. I would prefer my grandfather's answer to why kids behave badly: "Because their parents do."

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