Mercier and Sperber (M&S) argue that the primary evolved function of reasoning is persuasive argumentation. If the primary function of any evolved trait – including reasoning ability – is the same for all members of a species, then it follows that professional reasoners (including scientists and philosophers) are primarily in the business of persuasive argumentation. Furthermore, if M&S's dual-process model of reasoning is accurate, professional reasoners initially arrive at their conclusions by intuitive leaps and only later construct logical arguments to convince others of these conclusions. The notion that scientists and philosophers are more concerned with persuading others that something is true than with discovering truth contradicts the image of scientists and philosophers as dispassionate truth-seekers. This response to M&S's target article aims to develop this subversive implication of their argument.
That M&S's argumentative theory applies to their own reasoning is necessary if their theory is to be consistent. To suggest otherwise is to commit what Little (Reference Little1972) called the nonreflexive fallacy. Yet M&S spend virtually the entire article discussing studies of nonscientists and nonphilosophers, with just the briefest mention of how their theory might apply to professional reasoners. One exception is a reference to reviewers of scientific manuscripts who look for flaws in papers to justify rejection when they do not agree with a paper's conclusion. They also remark near the end of their article that even among scientists the ability to control one's own biases is “uncommon” and “almost freakish” (sect. 6, para. 7).
Perhaps the dearth of examples of professional-reasoning-qua-argumentation is due to space limitations. Or, perhaps there is little empirical research on this topic. Or, perhaps other professional reasoners will not find the theory as congenial as M&S suggest in their concluding sentence. After all, it could be somewhat demeaning to see one's professional activity (reasoning) as equivalent to ordinary squabbling over whether my favorite sports team is better than your favorite sports team. Whereas Little (Reference Little1972) aims to elevate ordinary people to the status of scientists, M&S appear to be challenging the status of scientists and philosophers as elite thinkers. To suggest that “[s]killed arguers, however, are not after the truth but after arguments supporting their views” (see the M&S abstract) is to challenge the idea that scientists and philosophers are motivated in an unbiased way by pure curiosity about what is true.
I believe that we professional reasoners should accept M&S's humbling view of our activities because it is an accurate description of reality. Yes, we are interested in truth, but we relish the thought of convincing others that we have discovered important truths. I must confess that the M&S thesis was immediately congenial to me because it affirms my own long-held beliefs about how professional reasoners such as scientists and moral philosophers go about their work (Johnson et al. Reference Johnson, Germer, Efran and Overton1988). Observations of the actual behavior of scientific researchers indicate that textbook descriptions of science are highly inaccurate. Scientists do not begin with a thorough set of dispassionate observations about some aspect of the world, followed by formulation of hypotheses that are tested and immediately abandoned if disconfirmed by data. I propose that the following account is more accurate.
Research for professional reasoners begins with an emotional attraction to certain ideas, an attraction Tomkins (Reference Tomkins, Tomkins and Izard1965) called “ideo-affective resonance.” This emotional resonance can cause scientists to cling tenaciously to ideas, even in the face of counterevidence. In some ways, science resembles legal proceedings in which the very best case for guilt or innocence is presented by uncompromising prosecuting and defense attorneys, respectively. Scientists who resonate to different views clash in conferences and in journals. Each seeks to convince others that he or she is correct. M&S review research indicating that when members of groups holding disparate views debate, each arguing for a different view, “truth wins” (sect. 2.3, para. 1). Perhaps truth does win often enough in jury trials and scientific debates, but as we all know, sometimes it does not. M&S might be expressing unwarranted optimism here.
I want to close my commentary with some observations about moral reasoning. Research by Haidt (Reference Haidt2001), mentioned by M&S, and by Joshua Greene (Reference Greene2003) strongly supports a dual-process model wherein people instantaneously decide if an act is “good” and therefore something we “ought” to do by taking note of the immediate, reflexive feelings that emerge when thinking about the act. In the second stage of the dual process, they may attempt to defend their feelings in terms of rational argument. Professional philosophers are much better at the reasoning part of the process, but are still guided initially by emotional reflexes. The immediacy and inevitability of certain emotions (e.g., revulsion on contemplating the torture of a child) can lead philosophers and nonphilosophers alike into making pronouncements such as “That we ought to refrain from torturing children is a moral truth.”
But only propositions about what is the case can be true or false. Moral pronouncements express reflexive feelings about how we ought to behave and are therefore not truth-apt. “Moral truth” is a category mistake. I have a yet-untested two-part hypothesis about why so many people (including moral philosophers) make this apparent category mistake (Johnson Reference Johnson2007). First, human beings are prone to mistakenly assuming that when they feel a strong and immediate emotion, this is a reliable sign of a self-evident truth. Second, although moral systems evolved because they conferred benefits on all participants (compare M&S's observation that persuasive communication must be sufficiently beneficial to both parties, else the capacity for being persuaded would be selected against and go out of existence), the propensity of a person to be responsive to moral “oughts” can be exploited by someone who benefits at that person's expense. Compare, for example, the persuasiveness of “Give me ten percent of your money because I want it” with “That we have a duty to tithe to the church is a venerable moral truth.” Scrutiny of any rhetorical effort is wise, particularly those in the moral domain.
Mercier and Sperber (M&S) argue that the primary evolved function of reasoning is persuasive argumentation. If the primary function of any evolved trait – including reasoning ability – is the same for all members of a species, then it follows that professional reasoners (including scientists and philosophers) are primarily in the business of persuasive argumentation. Furthermore, if M&S's dual-process model of reasoning is accurate, professional reasoners initially arrive at their conclusions by intuitive leaps and only later construct logical arguments to convince others of these conclusions. The notion that scientists and philosophers are more concerned with persuading others that something is true than with discovering truth contradicts the image of scientists and philosophers as dispassionate truth-seekers. This response to M&S's target article aims to develop this subversive implication of their argument.
That M&S's argumentative theory applies to their own reasoning is necessary if their theory is to be consistent. To suggest otherwise is to commit what Little (Reference Little1972) called the nonreflexive fallacy. Yet M&S spend virtually the entire article discussing studies of nonscientists and nonphilosophers, with just the briefest mention of how their theory might apply to professional reasoners. One exception is a reference to reviewers of scientific manuscripts who look for flaws in papers to justify rejection when they do not agree with a paper's conclusion. They also remark near the end of their article that even among scientists the ability to control one's own biases is “uncommon” and “almost freakish” (sect. 6, para. 7).
Perhaps the dearth of examples of professional-reasoning-qua-argumentation is due to space limitations. Or, perhaps there is little empirical research on this topic. Or, perhaps other professional reasoners will not find the theory as congenial as M&S suggest in their concluding sentence. After all, it could be somewhat demeaning to see one's professional activity (reasoning) as equivalent to ordinary squabbling over whether my favorite sports team is better than your favorite sports team. Whereas Little (Reference Little1972) aims to elevate ordinary people to the status of scientists, M&S appear to be challenging the status of scientists and philosophers as elite thinkers. To suggest that “[s]killed arguers, however, are not after the truth but after arguments supporting their views” (see the M&S abstract) is to challenge the idea that scientists and philosophers are motivated in an unbiased way by pure curiosity about what is true.
I believe that we professional reasoners should accept M&S's humbling view of our activities because it is an accurate description of reality. Yes, we are interested in truth, but we relish the thought of convincing others that we have discovered important truths. I must confess that the M&S thesis was immediately congenial to me because it affirms my own long-held beliefs about how professional reasoners such as scientists and moral philosophers go about their work (Johnson et al. Reference Johnson, Germer, Efran and Overton1988). Observations of the actual behavior of scientific researchers indicate that textbook descriptions of science are highly inaccurate. Scientists do not begin with a thorough set of dispassionate observations about some aspect of the world, followed by formulation of hypotheses that are tested and immediately abandoned if disconfirmed by data. I propose that the following account is more accurate.
Research for professional reasoners begins with an emotional attraction to certain ideas, an attraction Tomkins (Reference Tomkins, Tomkins and Izard1965) called “ideo-affective resonance.” This emotional resonance can cause scientists to cling tenaciously to ideas, even in the face of counterevidence. In some ways, science resembles legal proceedings in which the very best case for guilt or innocence is presented by uncompromising prosecuting and defense attorneys, respectively. Scientists who resonate to different views clash in conferences and in journals. Each seeks to convince others that he or she is correct. M&S review research indicating that when members of groups holding disparate views debate, each arguing for a different view, “truth wins” (sect. 2.3, para. 1). Perhaps truth does win often enough in jury trials and scientific debates, but as we all know, sometimes it does not. M&S might be expressing unwarranted optimism here.
I want to close my commentary with some observations about moral reasoning. Research by Haidt (Reference Haidt2001), mentioned by M&S, and by Joshua Greene (Reference Greene2003) strongly supports a dual-process model wherein people instantaneously decide if an act is “good” and therefore something we “ought” to do by taking note of the immediate, reflexive feelings that emerge when thinking about the act. In the second stage of the dual process, they may attempt to defend their feelings in terms of rational argument. Professional philosophers are much better at the reasoning part of the process, but are still guided initially by emotional reflexes. The immediacy and inevitability of certain emotions (e.g., revulsion on contemplating the torture of a child) can lead philosophers and nonphilosophers alike into making pronouncements such as “That we ought to refrain from torturing children is a moral truth.”
But only propositions about what is the case can be true or false. Moral pronouncements express reflexive feelings about how we ought to behave and are therefore not truth-apt. “Moral truth” is a category mistake. I have a yet-untested two-part hypothesis about why so many people (including moral philosophers) make this apparent category mistake (Johnson Reference Johnson2007). First, human beings are prone to mistakenly assuming that when they feel a strong and immediate emotion, this is a reliable sign of a self-evident truth. Second, although moral systems evolved because they conferred benefits on all participants (compare M&S's observation that persuasive communication must be sufficiently beneficial to both parties, else the capacity for being persuaded would be selected against and go out of existence), the propensity of a person to be responsive to moral “oughts” can be exploited by someone who benefits at that person's expense. Compare, for example, the persuasiveness of “Give me ten percent of your money because I want it” with “That we have a duty to tithe to the church is a venerable moral truth.” Scrutiny of any rhetorical effort is wise, particularly those in the moral domain.