Friday, June 8, 2012

moral psychologies


I finally picked up Jonathan Haidt’s book The Righteous Mind: Why Good People Are Divided by Politics and Religion.

Like many books of this scope, there are a few over-extensions of explanatory reach, but that’s been covered by many good book reviews in print.

Despite the overgeneralizations, there are many suggestive lines of thought concerning moral psychology.

For instance, consider the following hypothetical scenario:

A family suffers the tragic loss of the family pet, in this case, a dog that is hit by a car. Rather than allow a perfectly good meat go to waste, the family decides to cook the dog for supper.

Personally I hear this scenario and find it distasteful, if not disgusting. However, I would be hard pressed to say that it was morally wrong, and in fact I do not think it is.

Scenarios like this are meant to illustrate an instinctive distinction that many make between a taboo and a morally wrong action.

Here’s the interesting thing: In some cultures outside of America and the west in general, respondents would claim that the action was actually morally wrong, not merely a taboo.

Even though most cultures distinguish between taboos and actions that are morally wrong, the precise activities that fall into each or overlap are different depending on several factors.

One such factor tracks with the emergence of newer conceptions of autonomy and individualism. One might call philosophies that are inspired by autonomy, liberty, and individualism (e.g., the “west” generally) egocentric. The moral “bottom line” revolves around the harm principle (i.e., “One can do what one pleases as long as one does not harm another.”). So… in this more egocentric moral psychology, taboos (such as eating the family pet) are avoided because our culture or society judges that as grotesque or impolite, but not because there is any morally wrong content in the action.

In many parts of the world, however, the moral bottom line has a different focus. It’s not that a harm principle is lacking. Rather, it’s that the harm principle is differently articulated by an interpretation of the harm. Such philosophies of life are more sociocentric, where the concepts of duty, loyalty, and fidelity to tribe are paramount. As such, sociocultural taboos are group markers of inclusion (or exclusion), and the tendency to see the world in moral terms is extended much wider to include more types of behaviors into moral classification than what one may see in a more egocentric moral psychology.

Hence, what an egocentric moral psyche may see as a mere taboo may be interpreted as a morally charged issue for someone who is more sociocentric in their moral psychology.

Furthermore, it’s not the case that the sociocentric psyche sees these taboos as contingently possessing moral content (i.e., having moral evaluative properties because of their particular cultural evolution, etc.), but rather the tendency is to universalize their moral outlook, believing that their moral demarcations are normative for everyone else including those outside of their tribal affiliations, no matter their distinct cultural histories.

Now, you can probably already see the dangers lurking for overgeneralization and over-reaching explanations with this distinction in moral psychological outlook, and those dangers are real.

But as a research project into moral psychology, this is still a promising heuristic.

For example, it helps me make sense of why early forms of Judaism include so many taboos within their religious and moral laws, with no sharp distinction between these ceremonial forms of life and the moral point of view. Various “abominations” related to food choices, inter-racial marriage, fashion accutremonts, and human sexuality are lined up side by side. These all make more sense in the context of the sociocentric pressures at a pre-pluralistic time to reinforce and police tribal affiliations and “the Other.”

With the rise of egocentric moral psychologies, which personally I take to be a real advance in our moral outlook (I would say that, wouldn’t I?), the category of “mere taboo” has grown to encompass more of these types of tribal affiliations. The evolutionary arch then takes over and shaves away even many of these old taboos, resulting in a more tolerant, morally minimalist society – or at any rate, more tolerant if still few oasis zones.

I see some of the religious culture wars recapitulating this dynamic with patterns of retrenchment of liberty on the side of the sociocentric moral psyches and the extension of liberty on the side of the egocentrics. Yes, that sounds like the gross oversimplification of a classical liberal, but when empirical data points plot overall in a curve shape …

Saturday, April 14, 2012

downshifting in a very creative way


Alan Hill lives inside of an abandoned auto plant in Detroit (he does so legally):


Tuesday, April 10, 2012

the passions


Wow, it’s been ages since anyone has posted here.

I flip flop between which two different perspectives on the passions I find more interesting: generally Stoic and generally Cartesian.

(Point of clarification: I think they’re both false when measured against human experience, but that’s consistent with being fascinated with them. I’m fascinated by false things all the time.)

For the Stoics, passion was assimilated to a type of false belief. The goal of a good life is to eliminate them from the cognitive architecture, because it’s always better to have fewer false beliefs. (My psychologist friends would here press me to define “better.”)

For Descartes, the passions are classes of divinely engineered response functions that, when operating at peak efficiency, move us to act appropriately given the appropriate conditions. They are like the trigger mechanisms for what V.S. Ramachandran and S. Blakeslee call the “vigilant self.” The goal is not to get rid of them. Rather, the goal is to bring them under the authority of reason. What does it mean for them to be under the authority of reason? For Descartes it means that they are under the control of the will. Perhaps someone can dispute this, but I don’t know how else to interpret what it means for reason to be sovereign in each and every token of a joint action between reason and passion. I say this because of the connection Descartes draws to disinterest or disengagement. In every particular decision tree we encounter, reason tells us what we ought to prefer (pace Hume), yet we should be, strictly speaking in terms of our passions, detached from the actual outcome. Reason then informs the will to prefer noble decision branch X and tells the passions, “Sic ‘em!” Thus is born a fully rational, intentional action. (Okay, these last two sentences are clearly rhetorical overkill.)

At the end of the day, I find both of these proposals both fascinating and hopelessly naïve. The former turns humans into cyborgs. The latter retains the passions but at the (huge) cost of a homuncular view of the self.

But I also think they’re two of the coolest views on the block. Why are all the cool views false?

Friday, August 12, 2011

interview with Kwame Anthony Appiah

Quite interesting, lengthy interview with Kwame Anthony Appiah, a philosopher whose writing is engaging and lively:



Saturday, May 14, 2011

Some Reflections on Contemporary Church Music

In a recent philosophy class of mine, discussion somehow turned to contemporary church music. Opinions on the subject were varied, with one student bemoaning the “me”-focused and mindlessly repetitive nature of the songs, and another student defending them as (at least sometimes) promoting heartfelt worship and devotion to God. Everyone seemed agreed on the danger that such music can cross the line from being of genuine religious value to being a matter of mere emotional self-gratification.

I understand the concern. I was raised on the great church hymns, and while some contemporary praise songs seem to me powerful, few carry the meaning of those hymns. (And some seem to have no meaning at all!) I regret that my children probably won’t learn the hymns as well as I did.

The problem, for me, is captured nicely in a song we sing at my church periodically, a spruced-up and modernized version of the hymn, “Take my Life and Let it be.” The original is beautiful, a humble prayer of one longing to be used and filled by God. Here’s the first verse:

Take my life and let it be
consecrated Lord, to thee.
Take my moments and my days;
let them flow in endless praise,
let them flow in endless praise.

After a few verses, the contemporized version adds the following interlude:

I am yours, set apart for you
I am yours, hungry for your truth
Take my life, you are all I live for
I am yours.

The shift in mood seems to me subtle and profound, and it works completely against the spirit of the original hymn. Suddenly I’m “set apart” for God, and God is all I’m actually living for. While the original states much in the future tense—as the last verse says, “Take myself and I will be ever, only, all for thee” (emphasis added)—the person singing this interlude seems to have already got it made. To my mind the humility of the original has completely disappeared, and perhaps the honesty has, too.

Contemporary church music can be wonderful and spiritually uplifting; but I’d say that the danger my students highlighted is real.