Thinker on a Rock, Barry Flanagan, National Sculpture Museum, Washington, D.C.
We are always trying to make sense of the world by telling ourselves stories, constructing our beliefs and connecting events through cause and effect, inserting a sense of purpose in the latter from the former (as illustrated and explained in William Storr’s The Science of Storytelling). Lisa Feldman Brett (Seven and a Half Lessons About the Brain, and her much less satisfying How Emotions are Made) and others insist that we “think” first in our emotions and our conscientious thoughts follow, often trying to explain the decisions of our emotions. She also says that the brain is constantly predicting future events so as to keep the body ready to respond. I wonder whether this work of the brain is emotional or rational, though clearly not conscious.
Be all that true, the world does seem crazy at the moment. As I’ve discussed in earlier blogs, people are dying deaths of despair; corporations have devised ways of hyper-focusing our emotions, thoughts, and group associations to drive us to ever more passionately oppose some others ‘way past the level of rationality (for a detailed explanation, see An Ugly Truth: Inside Facebook’s Battle for Domination, by Sheera Frenkel and Cecillia Kang); and we are having great difficulty deciding not just how, but whether to protect ourselves and the world against the ravages of COVID and its successors. The COP26 conference on the climate emergency may or may not be our final decision as a world about whether we will reduce the threats of weather to our food supply; enhance our ability to live in extreme temperatures; live through, and rebuild after, ever more frequent and violent weather; and build a world where essential workers get the respect and income they should have. Doubtless the reader can expand the list.
In my first post of July 25, 2018, I wrote:
Apparently in a time when we in democracies need most to be able to think for ourselves, take in information, and analyze complex matters, we are to believe that most of us if not all are inherently unable to do so. But we who do have individual thoughts may be able to influence those others, not because we are authoritative nor perhaps persuasive in any way, but simply because we are heard by people near us. The task is to influence others more than they influence us on a certain matter.
Judging by Storr’s information, this is what really happens: our emotions acquire our moral stance by age seven – he doesn’t explain how. In the meantime, as part of that, the brain (as if it is an independent thing, not really oneself) has been developing theories about personal identity and values and our place in the world and in the scheme of things, and has developed concepts of what is normal in life and what should be expected. Having done that, the brain defends those conclusions against new academic information and news, different opinions, experiences which don’t jive with what was expected, and the people associated with those challenges and experiences. Because we grow up in social relationships, some or much of how we understand ourselves stems from the culture around us. So in the West, highly individualized experiences are emphasized and prized: competition, well-constructed moral tales, and stories with definite beginnings, middles, and conclusions, are all featured. Compare these with Eastern cultures in which ancestors, elders, community welfare and community support, and obligations to all those, shape and frame our self-understanding (see the previously cited The WEIRDest People in the World: How the West Became Psychologically Peculiar and Particularly Prosperous, by Joseph Patrick Henrich).
The history of our people, so to speak, also affects us, as eminent historian Margaret MacMillan demonstrates in War: How Conflict Shaped Us. She gives commanding emphasis on how very difficult it is in some cultures to disrespect war. I can certainly attest to that: I am a veteran of the Cold War and the wars in southeast Asia, having lost friends in the latter, but I do not commemorate Remembrance Day in Canada. I can feel peoples’ eyes on me as I go around without wearing a poppy, and I do not attend cenotaph events. I always felt that we all should have learned about the horrors of war from the First World War, and those lessons should have led us to avoid all subsequent wars. Instead, we repeat the old ceremonies as if remembrance is a redeeming virtue in itself, and a forefending against war. But we arm, and then ignore, those who continue to fight around the world. I don’t call this hypocrisy, because people I know are deeply sincere in their respect for the importance of this remembrance. I just think it is futile, and actually encourages us to continue wars (more about this in an upcoming post).
We are shaped also by education programs in our countries, according to the wonderful recent overview https://www.americanpurpose.com/articles/history-the-dictators-plaything/. Apparently it is more difficult than I realized to develop independent thought.
There is growing disrespect for intellectual honesty and impartiality, both labelled as elitist privilege which serve only to reinforce White values, according to the NYT’s John McWhorter https://www.nytimes.com/2021/10/26/opinion/wokeness-america.html?searchResultPosition=4. Arguing on the other side is Jonathan Rauch’s The Constitution of Knowledge: A Defense of Truth. He believes that just as science can claim that there is evidence-based research, so also is there evidence-based truth. I’m not sure he makes the case, but his effort is passionate and elegant.
With that in mind, I say: I guess I was spoiled.
In my formative and teen years in the U.S. during the fifties, sixties, and seventies, television news was expanding to thirty-minute nightly broadcasts; the Sunday interview shows were seen as necessary information to really understand the world around us; Edward R. Murrow was an icon; and young Americans were showing themselves much more reluctant than older American generations (but not Quebeckers, who historically were very resistant) to trust government decisions about going to war. Blacks were pushed to desperation in Los Angeles, Detroit, and elsewhere, sometimes to the point of massive riots. I could see that things were not right for everyone, and being able to see that and to argue about it were considered highly respectable ways of comportment. Of course, doing something helpful was even better. Being in-the-know was becoming ever more important.
And intellectual acumen was expected and respected. For example, in the large “screening out” course in the School of International Relations at the University of Southern California, the actual Dean of the school taught, which showed deep interest from the very top. We were assigned many journal articles to read each week. Next week he would call out one student to summarize one of the articles and express an opinion of it. Then another student was called upon to critique the first’s opinion as well as the article. The demand for intellectual quality was profound, and not many of us made it through that class. My final exam in one of the upper level courses was oral, undertaken at the office of a professor in the RAND Corporation, the Air Force’s prestigious Research and Development agency, another sign of intellectual expectations. (I did not do well in that one.)
Because my bachelor of foreign service program had only two slots for courses outside the major, I was required to take an undergraduate thesis course. I developed my thesis on “Moral Responsibility in the Ideas of Freud and Jung” during conversations while walking around campus alone with the very dean of Letters, Arts, and Sciences and professor of religion. You can see how interested the university was in developing our intellects.
I received my officers’ training through Air Force Reserve Officers Training and the Air Force Academy; the Air Force required a bachelor’s degree to be commissioned. I can’t say that everyone I encountered demonstrated particular intellectual brilliance, nor probably did I. But, as an intelligence briefing officer, I faced questions and expectations from generals who were very sharp, probing, and demanding. Also, because many young men avoided being drafted into the army by enlisting in the Air Force, many of my staff held masters’ degrees –if I wanted their respect and best efforts in helping me prepare my analyses and briefings, I had to at least be their intellectual equals. As all officers were told in a giant assembly with the Commander in Chief of Strategic Air Command, that old adage that “ours is not to reason why, ours is but to do or die,” may apply to some in the chain of command, but not to any of us there.
Seminary was a graduate school — three years of academics, a year of supervised practicum. It had a very demanding faculty noted for preparing graduates for Ph.D. programs at the most eminent schools, and who were much-touted experts in their own fields (especially Biblical archaeology, and ethics.) Required were intense class participation, written tests, oral exams (sometimes by panels of scholars), three languages to learn (and the fourth language of esoteric theological terms). Theology, church history, pastoral care and counseling, and, of course, deep research into the religious, historical, anthropological, and archeological background of the Bible. Preparing for ministry was more than just being a personable guy, speaking well, and being sensitive in highly emotional situations.
As chaplain and patients’ rights advisor, I met regularly with clinicians at the Detroit Psychiatric Institute. Taking courses with second year interns, I found that medicine, basic compassion, and social work skills required being on our toes. Mental hospitals were moving from preference for institutionalization to treatment in the community, with “milieu therapy” the order of the day, while the professions moved from talk therapy and conjoint family therapy to more medicine-based treatment. Everyone was on shifting ground, but we all had to believe that science, compassion, and our intellects would eventually give us clear understanding of what was causing mental illness, and would cure our patients. I don’t think we accomplished that, but we were definitely not working “by guess and by golly.” The chief of staff, himself a child psychiatrist, many doctors and psychologists, and social workers, were Black Americans as well as foreigners of different ethnic and cultural backgrounds. So I never had the impression that intellectual rigor and impartiality were White privilege.
But younger people tell me I’m spoiled. They seem to not encounter such rigorous expectations.
So these are the experiences which bring me to this point of view.
Those who propound theories about decision-making run the same risks as I. With all due respect to the scientific process, I note that evidence is derived among people who have already agreed that the proposed process and expected results would indicate a specific conclusion. Everybody starts from some background, discipline, and experience, as do I. Anyone examining evidence does so through some lens of values. Their stories shape their intellects as much as mine does my own. “Everyone is entitled to their own opinions but not to their own facts,” it is said, and I agree. But the conclusions drawn from the facts of studies in the brain, the mind, and personhood are often debatable. A rabbi taught a class that it is absolutely true, as Scripture says, that God spoke: what was actually said is not so clear.
I am persuaded that all our decisions are influenced by many things, but I think that awareness of those influences, makes it possible to resist them. It is possible to know when I am thinking independently, and when I am going with the flow. I think that many people do not try to think independently. Their susceptibility to going with the crowd, believing everything they read on Facebook and other social media, is a fault of theirs which, en masse, is causing the current crises in democracies. People must find a way to think for themselves.
I hope that at the very least, people who read this blog will be encouraged to think independently and to exercise every possible conscious process of examining, questioning, and thinking for themselves, to have informed consent and dissent. And that they will talk about these matters with those who share this impulse, and perhaps more importantly, with those who don’t.
3 thoughts on “Is It Really Possible to Effect Informed Consent?”
Dear Glenn- This is the best Upon Reconsidering that I have read. First off, your comments about the military and attending veterans events is the same as mine. I used to upset Bev every year when on Veterans Sunday I refused to stand and be recognized. This was partly because there were still WW II vets in the congregation, and I felt that they should be the ones recognized. Second, it was purely by God’s Grace that I didn’t go to Viet Nam. There was zero chance of that happening. And, finally, like you, I resisted the glorifying of War; WW I was enough of a reminder. Today, at 77, I will occasionally identify myself as a veteran to put a youngster in their place for not doing their duty. I frickin enlisted, rather than escape to Canada or spending money and influence to have “bone spurs on my feet” get me a deferment. Part of belonging to a community involves doing your Duty, even if you don’t agree with the policy. BTW- All of this is wonderfully, spectacularly spelled out in the Baganda Gita where Krishna (Christ) is the charioteer in the greatest spiritual book of all time. He makes clear to Arjuna what his Duty was in going to war with his (evil) family members. It is a great book to really study.
Your discussion of psychology and science was spot on. I actually know a great deal about all of this. I have intensely studied both for forty-five years. It is difficult in the West to get a handle on the Truth; both the humanistic sciences and the thing we call “science” are profoundly corrupt. H.H. The Dali Lama says that (real) Buddhism is a “science” of the mind and of Truth, not a religion. The best minds of India and Asia have been involved in this inner science for over three thousand years. When H.H. The Dali Lama was asked, “what if it were proven that reincarnation didn’t exist, what would you do?” He responded, “Well, we would quickly change our point of view and belief!” Imagine that happening in the western world? Having studied literally every thing that science, medicine, and psychology have to say about the human mind, I can confidently say that they really understand nothing! They know things, but have no understanding or comprehension.
A major, significant difference between East and west lies in their orientation. Literally everything since Aristotle displaced Plato in the West has been externally oriented. God is “out there” (sic) or ‘up there” (sic). Life, the world, ourselves is “out there.” The two greatest western teachers of the twentieth century, G.I. Gurdjieff and Ken Wilber (I highly recommend any of his books up to The Theory of Everything -which is probably the best place to start) both called mankind to be asleep. How can a psychologist who is asleep objectively study the mind? The same is largely true of scientists, but Einstein, Heisenberg, and some others at that time in the early 20th century were awake and quite mystical. Gurdjieff hit the nail on the head when he said (repeatedly) that western man was “Identified” with everything outside of himself/herself. This idea of identification is so broad that it includes everything from what we experience from our family, to our school mates, to all of our education, to television, the media, books and magazines, and on and on. The Viet Nam War was because America was identified with the idea of “The domino theory,” as regards communism. The utterly regressive and dysfunctional Republican Party in America is totally identified with such long time tropes as “Don’t tread on me,” “The government is oppressive (as was King George III),” and “the right to bear arms anytime and any place,” etc. etc. Bah!
The orient has taken the opposite POV for over three thousand years. Their orientation is to the individual and to the transformation and liberation of each individual (through thousands of lifetimes). This inward focus has led to astonishing discoveries and truths about the inner human psyche. I am well versed in “Hindu” (Sanskrit), Buddhist, and theosophical studies. It has been only recently that Asia has taken to the (utterly) materialistic view of the West. What has gone on in much of China is a phenomenal revolution. Perhaps not for the best.
In Christianity there was a hijacking by Constantine of Christianity in the fourth century. The Council banned, under the penalty of death, all Christian books which focused upon the inner transformation of its members. These were called Gnostic texts and were conflated with earlier groups who called themselves Gnostic. The Nag Hamadi texts open up a whole new world of ancient Christian texts. I have found these to be completely stimulating and fascinating. These see The Christ both everywhere and within us.
So, is God imminent or transcendent? Or is it both/and? Are the Eastern inward studies and practices more valuable than the outward, materialistic view and ritualistic practices of the West? Or is it both/and?
Where is Truth? It is always both/and and and and and. We can never know it while on this earth in these material bodies. But we compelled by Dharma to seek it.
What I liked most about this installment of Upon Reconsidering was the personal element. We have been good friends for almost fifty years and there were parts of your personal history, especially at USC that I knew little or nothing about. Thank you for sharing. My experiences at Purdue were similar but also very different. Purdue graded on the scale and grades were very difficult to get. A “B” average required, generally, someone who graduated in the top 10% of their high school class and an IQ of 125 (I am well versed on Iq tests, results, and what the numbers mean—125 is about the 93-95th percentile). We studied our ass off. As a state school, Purdue had to admit a lot of instate students. The university’s stated goal was to flunk out all but the best students (education, agriculture, and home economics were the exceptions). It was easy to get into, but hard to get out of with a degree. I studied Economics because I figured that understanding political economics would help me to understand our world (which indeed it has!), I could always get a job as an economist, and, very importantly, there were a large number of elective courses that I could take.
In any event I apologize for going on so long, but I felt the need to respond to your most excellent blog and personal information. Blessings to you and Helen. Jim
Jim Luzadder, aka. mullah Ibn parkenmykarkus 828-702-5026 828-890-4404
Thank you Glenn, I thoroughly enjoyed reading this. As a Veteran you can take profound stands that many of us non vets cannot, thank you.