A 2018 Pew research poll showed 73% of Republicans feel colleges are moving in the wrong direction, and 79% say professors bringing their political views into the classroom are a major reason for this[1]. This is nothing new; the political right has long disdained college education as being too liberal. In the 1950’s Joseph McCarthy targeted liberal faculty members for supposed ties to communism[2], and The California Board of Regents began threatening to fire professors who didn’t sign loyalty oaths.[3]
It is true that today colleges are overwhelmingly liberal. A 2016 study showed Democrats were represented in college faculty 11:1 over Republicans.[4] A study in 2010 concluded that greater numbers of liberal than conservative professors was accounted for by career-path selection.[5] However, while the right believes universities are indoctrinating students, a 2008 study, showed there was no evidence faculty ideology was associated with changed is student ideological orientation.[6] But do conservatives value university education at all? As long as it aligns with their worldview, yes. Literature and the arts are acceptable as long as they privilege the Western Canon. “Multiculturalism” – perspectives from non-European or non-white sources – has been derided for decades. Art movements that do not express traditional realism are discounted. History that strays into questioning narratives of western and US exceptionalism is deemed subversive. The notion that traditionally dominant and powerful groups or ideas ought to be critically examined and not assumed as correct are to be avoided. Sociology must not examine social hierarchies and systems that perpetuate inequality. Entire fields of study such as ethnic or gender studies are dismissed as “activist” and illegitimate. Economics, long a bastion of conservative thought, must assume that capitalism is the superior model and inquiries into its flaws or the exploration of alternative systems are inappropriate. Since its inception in the second half of the 20th century, one of the conservative movement’s founding causes has been to critique the leftward slant of the university. Books like Buckley’s God and Man at Yale and Allan Bloom’s The Closing of the American Mind have been popularizing, catalyzing forces in this line of thought. Leo Strauss, a far right “founding father” of American conservatism, in his 1941 lecture on German Nihilism, argued that the rise of Nazism was due in no large part to the failures of a professoriate, caught up in liberal thought and attitudes, to teach the classics and thus provide disillusioned young German men a social vision that would inspire faith in social institutions so that they might have avoided the nihilism of Nazi rhetoric. However, while Strauss explicitly rejected much of Nazi ideology, he was obviously sympathetic to many of its grievances about modern, progressive Germany. He too, wanted to Make Germany Great Again, just not through war and racial cleansing so much as the privileging of traditional social hierarchies. It is in conservative DNA to oppose what it views as the excesses of progress. In its own telling, this doesn’t mean inquiry and reason per say, but rather the “right kind of” inquiry and reason. As Buckley famously spoke of standing before history and yelling stop, shades of conservative thought range from complete rejection of modernity (a populist Retvrn to blood and soil, homogenous nationalism, with the salt-of-the earth farmer making everything by hand), to selective rejection of modernity with its “big government” social engineering programs and emphasis on the marginalized and oppressed. Echoes of this instinct take us back at least as far as the French Revolution and its violent and messy guillotining of the monarchy. (Modern far right figures such as Curtis Yarvin explicitly call for a return to Monarchy, albeit in a modern form with corporate boards and CEOs overseeing society through technocratic investments instead of an actual king, queen and their lords). The French went too far, and wrought the unintended consequences of progressivism – a dismantling of traditional hierarchies that were central to the proper functioning of society. Post WWII, with the rise of the Soviet Union and its communist satellites around the globe, conservatism had a large and obvious foe in totalitarianism. But while gulags, secret police and central planning were ripe targets for opposition, the underlying premise of communism - a Marxist critique of capitalism’s exploitative and oppressive nature - was more complex and nuanced, and likely a more difficult case to argue against. Yet while Marxist or not (more often not), what was going on in universities was a project of deconstructing the very systems of power that communism had originally been designed to address. By lashing the obvious critiques of 20th century communist totalitarianism to the critical analysis of traditional hierarchies and social structures going on in universities, conservatives were able to build a popular case against progressivism in all its forms. In the 21st century, with the ascendance of the far right in the US, it is not uncommon to hear the terms progressivism and even liberalism used interchangeably with communist or Marxist, despite multiple decades having passed since the fall of the Soviet Union. However, even as old references are made to the realities of any communist state, only a dwindling percentage of the population will have any clear association with, the modern far right has been able to whip up new and generally fanciful fears and anxieties in the public. Cosmopolitan crime, border invasions, gay menaces and dark Democratic plots to take away American guns have become fruitful substitutions. Yet beneath each of these political and social phantasms lies the same core impulse, that of weakening traditional hegemony. The supremacy of the patriarchal, Christian, heterosexual and white ethnicity is under threat. In this, conservatism is correct. For more than two centuries, since at least the enlightenment, a vision of human rights has generally been ascendant. From the overthrow of monarchism, to the abolition of slavery, to female suffrage, up through the civil rights era and gay liberation, traditional hierarchies have been under assault, and in the popular imagination, with generally favorable results. The idea that an individual should have the right to an equal footing not determined by birth or body makes moral sense in a way that is hard to argue against when presented clearly and free from distractions and mendacious associations. While tireless organizing and individual and community action have been instrumental in the success of this progress, academia has played a crucial role not only in providing the research, data and theory giving empirical support to moral consideration. However, in a more abstracted yet maybe just as important way, the notion of academic inquiry itself has given us a posture in which we are able to objectively understand and communicate what it is we value in society. Through countless hours of painstaking observation and analysis, universities have been the place where hundreds of thousands of humans have performed the work of holding up a mirror to society, allowing us to see more clearly not only what we do, but why we do it. By rigorous examination, our systems of social organization are deconstructed, reconstructed and deconstructed again and again. And yet this process is the antithesis of the central conservative impulse to maintain tradition because it elevates authority to that which can be proven, not merely that which has existed. In other words, there is no idea that is beyond critique, nothing is sacred but knowledge and truth. This process is not linear, clean or obvious. It requires patient debate and humility. It requires an openness to having old ideas overturned. It requires the courage to face the possibility that the truths we uncover may be ugly or uncomfortable, or require new moral obligations. It is nothing so simple as opening a book and having the answers laid out in black and white. It is fundamentally liberal and progressive, and while often conservative in practice, it is its opposite in spirit. [1] The Growing Partisan Divide in Views of Higher Education, Pew, 8/19/2019 [2] "Sarah Lawrence Under Fire: The Attacks on Academic Freedom During the McCarthy Era". Sarah Lawrence College Archives [3] Radin, Max. (1950). Bulletin of the American Association of University Professors (1915–1955) [4] Faculty Voter Registration in Economics, History, Journalism, Law, and Psychology, 2019, Econ Journal Watch [5] "Five myths about liberal academia", Matthew Woessner, April Kelly-Woessner and Stanley Rothman Friday, February 25, 2011 Washington Post [6] Yancey, George. "Recalibrating Academic Bias." Academic Questions 25, no. 2 (2012): 267–78.
0 Comments
I zipped up my backpack and slung it over the back of my chair. On the desk in front of me was a manila folder with the words, "DO NOT OPEN" emblazoned on the front. When the TAs finished passing them out, our professor stepped slowly to the podium. He appeared to be at least eighty. "Welcome, and congratulations. Each of you has passed basic calculus. Not an easy feat! Basic Arithmetic, then Algebra and Geometry. Finally, Trigonometry and Calculus. From the Lebombo Bone to Peano's axioms. From to Muhammad ibn Musa al-Khwarizmi's Ilm al-jabr, to Fibonacci's cubes. Plimpton 322 to Euclid's three dimensions. Archimedes' parabolas and Newton's infinitesimals... you've learned it, you've used it, you've proved it. And then we told you a little something about parabolic disorder. Now, I know..." A woman with dark hair and cat shaped backpack in the front row raised her hand, "Excuse me, sir?" The professor cleared his throat. I could not determine if this was due to nervousness or irritation. "Uh, yes, young lady?" "It's just that, uh, you said parabolic disorder. I'm not sure what you mean." "Oh, my apologies." He looked over to a short, fat man with a thick head of hair sitting in the corner with a clipboard. The man stood up and walked hurriedly to the front, hunched in deference to the professor. "Yes, she is right," he intoned, " We didn't get into parabolic disorder. I thought we were going to wait on that until the presentation." Now I could tell the professor was clearly irritated. He looked back at the half-full classroom, our eager eyes so full of anticipation. He forced a smile. "Right. I'm used to getting groups who've already got a sense of where I'm about to go. But OK." He stepped back from the podium and began to pace. "As I said, 40,000 years ago with Lebombo we have the first evidence that humans began to mark their counts. Peano described the basic axioms for arithmetic, which billions of school children have been taught all over the world. It's what most of us use at the grocery store or when baking cookies. Some of us have need for more demanding calculations, and we have Ilm al-jabr to thank for that. Building houses, planes and writing software code all relies on what it originally laid out. When they first found Plimpton 322, they saw where Euclid was coming from and Newton knew where the apples fell. He stopped pacing and looked out at us with intensity. "But see, what was just mentioned here with regard to parabolics." He pointed in the general direction of the woman in the front row. "Well, that was it. We had reached what appears to be the limits of mathematics." "You might say we followed the fifth postulate as far as it would go." The professor smiled and let out a small chuckle. He adjusted his glasses, obviously proud of his little witticism. The students rustled in their seats, uncomfortable as to where this was all heading. "The best mathematicians pushed and pushed. We lost many good men. Gauss was the first to fall. He famously went mad, and they found his body in the Oker. Lobachevsky and Bolyai ended up in a duel and shot each other fatally. Families were torn apart after seeing their young going to college and destroying their careers. So, something had to be done. "A group of mathematicians, calling themselves the International Convention of Concerned Mathematicians (ICCM), came together to address the problem. They met in secret, in Geneva so as not to worry the public. From somewhere behind me another student asked in confusion, "But why?" "Right, well. Sure, just let everyone know that that was it - the end of mathematical discovery forever. Do you realize what that would have meant, how demoralizing it would have been for humanity? All this war and famine and sickness and the constant, just awful dreariness of existence? Math was something we could believe in. Sure, there is God but who believes in him anymore? A muscular young man in my row snorted. I had been standing near Rick before class began and he was on his phone talking to someone about corn futures in Iowa. "Whatcheer isn't more than a half an hour. Tell him he could be in Oskaloosa before Chicago even opens. Dad's position is good. Tell them I'll be back in a few weeks but to not doing anything before I get there." He raised his hand and responded, "Uh, I think I know quite a few people in Iowa who would fit the bill." The class tittered. "OK, sure," the professor continued. "But Math is such a part of everything we do." Most people don't do much more than simple addition and subtraction on the first of the month. But they know we mathematicians have it all under control. We make the things work that make their lives comfortable. Their cars, their TVs, their internet, their satellites and airplane systems. We make things WORK. "Could you imagine humanity suddenly being faced with the reality that this is it, that we aren't going any further? I don't know. I just think it would be a shock we wouldn't recover from. Well, at any rate that was the conclusion of the ICCM. Each of you has a folder in front of you. Go ahead and open it." The room was silent for a moment as the class seemed to be calculating what was about to happen, processing the words of the professor. I peeled back the adhesive, reached in and pulled out a small packet of legal paper. On it, just as was written on the outside of the manila folder, were the words DO NOT OPEN. One student protested that we should heed them. "No, go on ahead. That's just there as a reminder of how serious this information is." Multiple gasps erupted in the room. I lifted the first page and read words I'll never forget: The math is not real. I looked around and the entire class was staring towards the old professor in disbelief, rows of brows furrowed. "I know. It's a lot to take in all at once. This is why I always thought we should finish the final unit on parabolics with at least a preview of what would come next. Might be a bit less shocking." The lady with the cat backpack snorted and said exasperatedly, "You can't be serious with this?" She looked around at the rest of us with an awkward smile and asked the class, "This is a joke, right? He's joking." She was met with a prevaricating silence. She turned back to the professor. "Right?" "I'm afraid not, miss. The greatest minds tried and failed. We have basic integers, coefficients, polynomials, graphs and such. But that's I'm afraid all we're ever going to have." The Iowan leaned back deeply, using his broad biceps to push the edge of his desk back with the heel of his palms. "There's no way this is real. I know mathematicians, they do all kinds of crazy stuff. Our course catalogue is filled with higher math. Calculus II and III, Linear Algebra, Differential Equations. What are they all doing!!?" The professor stood silently; lips pursed in a slightly wry smile. He looked like a man for whom things were going exactly as he expected they would. "Um, sir, what about the movies?" I turned around and saw a middle-aged woman with a simple hair style that fell down over a faded white t-shirt. "Or on TV. All those chalkboards with lots of equations all over the place. I mean, I know it's just fiction. Or, but on the news, I've seen stories on science where labs have some pretty advanced looking math on the whiteboard. I usually can't understand it. What's all of that then?" The Iowan nodded along. They looked to the professor, who was now looking down and had resumed his pacing. Without looking up, he continued to pace, allowing a silence to drag over the class. "It's all made up. Turn to the third page in your packets." The class obliged. On page three was a list in three bullets: Rules for Higher-Mathematicians
"When you stepped into class today, you were stepping in to a very special, very exclusive group. You were selected through your proficiency, and we are grateful for your dedication. But the sad truth is that you have reached the end of the road. There is no math to learn beyond what you already know. As future mathematicians, you will be the inheritors of a sacred duty: to keep the story of math alive in the public imagination. This has not been easy, as you can probably imagine. But aside from the unavoidable slip-up here and there, I think we have done a pretty good job so far." The professor looked up and his tone became more serious. "One of the first tasks of the ICCM was to develop a system of structures that would be our guideposts in this new reality. Protocols were developed, networks activated that ensured only the proper channels of communication were used. Briefings were devised to inform heads of state and captains of industry. Special departments were tasked to develop materials that would be given to media sources such as journalists and film producers. They had to have the appearance of complexity. A sort of arbitrary language was developed. You know, like Klingon." The class appeared oblivious to this reference. "From Star Trek? Their whole language - they made a whole language up. It was internally consistent, and they used it in the series and films. I think some fans even learned it. Imagine that!" The class remained silent. The professor waved his hand, "OK, before your time. Whatever. The point is that they made it up, but it seemed real. So, the ICCM went to great lengths to do the same thing but for math. It was sent out globally to every college and university. Students just like you were given the same packet you know have on your desks. Turn the page." On the next page, a hyperlink and an email address: my first and last name@provideo. I was about to ask the professor a question myself but before I could get the words out, he went on, providing the answer soon thereafter. "These are the two most important things you will need for the rest of your career. That link is your access portal to the ICCM's database. This will be your personal email throughout your career in mathematics." From somewhere behind me the sound of a cup spilling and a student calling out "oh shit." The Iowan, still in a state of shock, "I don't believe it. This makes no sense. You said it before - cars, planes, satellites. The Hubble, the Mars rover. Carl friggin' Sagan! You're telling me none of that is real?!!" He stared back at the professor, as if expecting him to reveal at last that this was all some silly first-day-of-the-semester charade. The professor was deadly serious. "Well, it's complicated." He then explained that while yes, we did have advanced electronics, the notion that these were based on any higher math than simple calculus was a myth. Sagan had actually been a high-ranking member of the ICCM. That wistful, almost sad quality about him was less about the wonder of the universe than the sadness in seeing its mysteries ever-unreachable, locked away behind an impenetrable wall of ignorance. We were able to land on the moon, to sample the rocks on Mars, but these were simple feats of basic math it turned out. More fantastic theories such as the distance to stars, the gravity of galaxies and cosmic inflation - all little more than hunches, with little math behind them. In reality we had no idea what was really beyond our solar system. And what about atoms and particles, someone asked, dejectedly. We knew some basic chemistry, but we didn't really know much about the interactions of electrons, much less quantum dynamics, one of the better "fields of study" conjured up by the ICCM. The cat backpack lady seemed almost ready to cry as the professor spoke, each of his words like the teeth of a chainsaw to her soul. "What... do we all do, then?" The professor leaned on the podium and took out a small green piece of cloth, with which he then used to clean his glasses. "You work. If you want to continue. You may decide of course to turn around and walk right out that door." The professor pointed limply. "You just need to sign the next page, agreeing to the rules. But for those of you who want to remain, and continue on in a career of mathematics, you will become an employee of the ICCM. Each quarter you will receive a new packet of materials. We call it the Provideo. It is designed by the art department of the ICCM. Unlike Klingon there is no real logic to it. It's just a bunch of squiggles and dashes. Meaningless really. But you need to memorize it. It is the most important thing you will do. You will meet together in your departments at your assigned university or private lab. There your days will be spent in review, going over each new piece of Provideo until you know it like the back of your hand. You will put it up on the whiteboards in your workspace, print it out and tape it to checklists, you know, all the kind of busywork stuff the public would expect. Should you take an interview with a PR team or news anchor or whatever you'll be well equipped to make it all seem quite serious and above board." The student behind me had finished wiping up their spilled drink, had now gathered their things and was heading down the aisle towards the podium. He looked flustered, and handed his packet to the professor, who looked it over. "I signed it. I'm not sure what to think right now. But... this is a lot. Thank you." The door slowly closed on its pneumatic hinge after he left the room. "It's not for everyone. I know. It is sad. I won't lie. But I hope you'll understand the position of the ICCM. It's really best for everyone." --- I sat on a park bench outside. The late morning sun was still working to evaporate the morning's dew. Passing students laughed and continued on to whatever interesting new studies lay ahead. Still wearing my backpack, I gripped its straps in my thumbs and pulled it close. It was heavy with textbooks from the Spanish, Women's Studies and Criminal Justice classes I planned on attending later today. But no math. There would not be any more math. I suddenly took note of the geometry in the buildings around me. A bird swooped by overhead and I thought of how one might calculate its flight path. How many cubic liters of water in the fountain? How much plastic feeder line was predicted to be needed in the landscaper's gas-powered trimmer? All basic math. I looked into the sky, the white whisps of clouds smeared across the nitrogen blue. Beyond which there were stars. Or were there? What was it the professor had said about the solar system and galaxies? I think we still know they are there, some things, somewhere out there. But I suppose we'll never know. I suddenly realized the word for what I was feeling: small. Everything usually seemed to have a grandeur to it - a bigness. There was a sort of infinity that transcended reality and we were always searching to discover more of it. But this was all shattered. Or not even that. It wasn't explosive it was implosive. As if in an instant an eternal outward energy had reversed course and was now turning in on itself. What was shining, giving off light, was now absorbing it into a deadened kind of gloom. And yet the sun still shone above. I stood up and began to walk. My next class, Freud's Old Maid: Sexual Repression in Victorian New York, didn't start until 12:30pm. I had time to grab lunch. I was suddenly really hungry all. I thought about my friend, Barry, and felt a strong urge to call and tell about what had just happened. I quickly remembered the rules, and the paper I had signed. I couldn't tell Barry, or anyone else. I was now part of a worldwide secret society, in possession of a secret knowledge that only a handful of humans would ever know. That felt kind of good. ![]() From Wikipedia: If R1 and R2 are the rate of responses on two schedules that yield obtained (as distinct from programmed) rates of reinforcement Rf1 and Rf2, the strict matching law holds that the relative response rate R1 / (R1 + R2) matches, that is, equals, the relative reinforcement rate Rf1 / (Rf1 + Rf2). The Matching Law states, in essence, that an organism will do what has been most reinforcing to them in the past. That is, generally either what feels good when they do it - either because they have received something from the world (cake, kisses, money), - or because they have removed some discomfort (cold air, delaying a task, uncomfortable social setting).
The matching law is at once an incredibly powerful insight into human behavior and a deceptively simple notion. Because while choosing to eat cake over a rotten fish is easy to understand, much of our reinforcement in life is far more complex and nuanced. Take for instance, a person who commits suicide. The matching law states that their history indicates that in the behavior of jumping off a cliff they anticipated more reinforcement than in doing anything else. This would be a case of negative reinforcement, in which an attempt was made to feel better by relieving or removing some discomfort. But what was so discomforting about being alive? If there was no physical discomfort being endured, the pain was psychic, some kind of emotional torment. And when we try to look at their life and biology, we might find a genetic mechanism by which the chemicals needed for joy, optimism, etc. were not being sufficiently processed. But we might also find a history of trauma, of anti-social relationships, etc. All of these become so numerous and tangled that the matching law almost seems irrelevant. But it isn’t! Our behavior must follow its declaration: we move towards comfort and away from discomfort. An analysis of behavior attempts to identify the cycles of reinforcement (punishment too, but we’ll keep things simple here), as they play out across 4 parameters: one’s present motivational state (how much they want or do not want something, in this case relief from psychic pain) + the environmental stimuli (the world, the cliff, thoughts), + the behavior (jumping off a cliff) + the consequence (relief of suffering). Our analysis takes what is sometimes called a “molar” view of behavior. That is, an organism’s every behavior never exists in isolation, but is a dynamic, ongoing interaction between our physical body & mind, our environment, and what happened after all prior behaviors. Some behaviors have died out (gone extinct), or have been replaced by other behaviors. E.g. I used to try and feel good by getting negative attention from peers by acting goofy, but I grew older and found that I felt better when I learned to behave in ways that were more honest, thoughtful and productive when in social settings. When I did that, I discovered new avenues of joy and comfort – new “reinforcers”. (I think girls started to take me seriously – and sex is just about as reinforcing as anything, aside from maybe heroin). Three classic critiques of behaviorism are as follows: 1. it is mechanistic and dehumanizing, 2. it is reductionist, and 3. it is inadequate for explaining complex human behavior. All 3 are quite true in a way; behaviorism looks at the behavior, not the “whole human”, it looks for dependent variables in a systematic way that requires empirical humility, and it does not seek to explain what it cannot measure. However, this is also its great strength. Because for millennia humans have relied on myth, superstition, and intuition to determine why people do what they do. Or, in more modern times, to develop elaborate (however often untested) theories about it. To this day it is popular to talk about “free will”, “personal responsibility”, “common sense”, or “the problem of consciousness”. Yet these are each mostly incoherent terms. “Free will” would seem to require acting without influence of neither one’s phenotypic makeup or one’s past learning history of the world. This is a notion as mystical and fanciful as a unicorn, in that according to the laws of nature and determinism, no such thing is possible (I’ll avoid the notions of quantum indeterminacy here, but suffice it to say that the answer is in the name: appealing to indeterminacy to explain why someone does something is a contradiction in terms; one might as well wear a banana on their head as a hat because the position of the electrons in their brain’s sodium can’t be measured by speed and position simultaneously). Personal responsibility can either refer to social rules or one’s determination of their own actions. Since the latter is an incoherent notion (see paragraph above), the former is entirely compatible with a behavioral, determinist account: rules are essentially a learning history of relations between stimuli that don’t require direct experience. That is, I avoid a rock flying towards me because I have experienced being hit in the head by objects and thus have been reinforced by (learned to) avoid them when they come at me. But if I work in a rock crushing yard, I follow the rule of wearing a hard hat because even though I have not had one drop on me yet, I have learned (the rule) that it is possible and that my hat will protect me from discomfort (planning for negative reinforcement). Our lives are filled by rules that are continually providing reinforcement as they guide us towards comfort and away from discomfort. Common sense is simply my repertoire with certain stimuli. I have experienced a set of events in the world, learned rules about them, and follow them according to how strongly I have thus far been reinforced. A man who doesn’t wear a jacket in the snow lacks common sense” simply because – as the matching law states – he has not developed strong enough relations between the contingent event of being cold outside or the non-contingent event of putting on a jacket before leaving. There can be all manner of reasons for this – often simply due to chemical mechanisms such as those that result in ADHD, in which attention to irrelevant stimuli were more reinforcing; think of the absent-minded professor who is daydreaming equations and forgets to put on his pants. A lack of “common sense”, or “sense that has been directed elsewhere? The problem of consciousness, it seems we often forget, first requires a definition. What do we mean by “consciousness”? Is it simply being alive and experiencing the world? Bacteria do that. Is it thinking about and planning for events? Many animals do that, and many animals “reason” or learn from their local species’ culture – this is simply a learning history of stimuli relations; If I lick this stick and put it in this big hole and pull it out it will be lined with delicious (reinforcing) ants. Is consciousness communication? Skinner provided a very sophisticated taxonomy of verbal behaviors that a community develops by reinforcing vocal and gestural responses to stimuli, such as requesting, labeling, receptive identification and imitation. While we can in no way claim to understand or be capable of explaining every magnificent manifestation of what we commonly call “consciousness”, much less the particular cellular mechanisms or networks of synapses in the brain that conspire to produce them, our understanding of the principles of behavior and learning – not in the least the matching law – has far more explanatory power than that with which we derive without it. The simple idea that what any of us do, at any time of day, can be largely explained by this simple law: that we do what has brought us most comfort or relived most discomfort in the past, has a profound possibility of opening us up to treating each other with the kind of recognition, honor, sympathy, and respect that only the most holy and sainted among us might be imagined to display. Your mean boss. The bad driver on the road. Your annoying stepmother, the playground bully, the thief, the murderer, the rapist, the pedophile – the very worst people in the world all have learning histories that tell a story of the interaction between their genes and their environment. But so too the successful entrepreneur, or Nobel prize winner, or star athlete, or president, wise man, genius or anyone else who seems to display great aptitudes or attributes. Man is a messy mixture of hormones, brain cells and various organs, sloshing around from meal to meal, relation to relation. His world is a mess of privileges and disadvantages, social structures and lucky breaks. Yet the one thing he is not is an actor outside of these things. And that one simple truth, born out in countless scientific studies – if not simple observation – reminds us that we are all only human (homo sapiens), nothing more. We are no different than all the kingdoms of life from which we share a common ancestor. We evolved on the same planet, from the same molecules, atoms, amino acids and fundamental forces of the universe. Subject to electromagnetic radiation, the strong and weak forces, gravity and the laws that they each must obey. So, to must we obey them. So, do we have choice? What is our purpose if we are nothing but highly advanced automatons, trapped in an endless war with entropy? To the former the answer is yes, and no. We make choices, but the matching law determines what they will be. We feel as though we are making them because society has always described our lives as such, and our intuition that we are acting without any cause outside our own “will” arises from our severely limited cognitive and observational capacity. We can only ever hope to process a handful of the almost limitless physical processes and environmental interactions that have made us who we are and are presently operating on us. As for our purpose, this is not for us to decide alone. For as products of our environment, we cannot but act in ways in which we have learned. As a species, we have applied our evolved physical and cognitive capabilities to develop incredible things: families, social structures, beliefs, religions, reasons, science, governments, countries, AI algorithms that we are at the cusp of being unable to comprehend. The vast majority of what we do is obscure to us – we just do it. We find enjoyment, make friends, find lovers, raise children, go to work – all of this not only creates meaning but is meaning. That is, it brings us comfort and avoids discomfort, even if we often don’t really understand why. Society has great power to make us act and think in ways in which its complex systems have designed. Many rules we follow lead us to truth, while others towards falsity. But the matching law is there to remind us that while we may not know why specifically, we know why generally. And while it is only a starting point to understand and analysis ourselves and those around us, it is a point at which we fail to recognize at our peril. In Leo Strauss’ 1941 lecture on German Nihilism, he argues Nazism arose from a nihilism he defines as ultimately in opposition to modern civilization. This was provoked by progressive educators who, instead of taking seriously the worries about the immorality and debasement of tradition that progressivism wrought, and reminding their pupils of the strengths of the past, merely chided them for insufficient appreciation of modernity. But this was counter-productive. It only reinforced their anxiety over loss of moral rootedness and the spiritual comfort found in transcending the individual for the glory of the state. Instead of turning to the modern, “open society”, they saw only two paths – either the “closed society” of communism, or nihilistic destruction and war against civilization.
For the Open Society meant a state of disintegration, a denial of human nature (covered over by sly fictions), and moral respectability only to the extent society remained closed. Closed Society on the other hand meant a flag to whom one might pledge an oath, the constant awareness of sacrifice and self-denial, known facts about human nature, and connection to the sublime. Yet since the only path to the latter form of society they could see ended in communism (which they despised) they felt their only option was destruction. Strauss finds much to fault these young Nazis. He views them as naïve and errant in their thinking, failing to see beyond their current provincial predicament. Writing in 1941, he had yet to witness just how devastating their plan would come to be. With historical hindsight, he delivers one of maybe the most absurdly wrong statements written in the 20th century. Of Hitler, “He will soon be forgotten.” A better scholar than I might know better what provoked this grave miscalculation. A Jew born in 1899, who lived in Germany until 1932, he no doubt grasped their virulent antisemitism (although one wonders why he mentions it only in passing “Their anti-Jewish policy does seem to be taken seriously by the Nazis.”), and may have had good reason to avoid grappling with its enormity. But a better explanation might instead be that Strauss himself has strong reactionary sympathies. He spends a good deal of the lecture laying out just how right the Nazis were about the moral depravity of progressivism. While it is not mentioned, one hardly need to imagine what Strauss has in mind when he cites approvingly the Nazi critiques of modern civilization. He argues that civilization is defined by science and reason, and dismisses non-western cultures: “The term civilization designates at once the process of making man a citizen, and not a slave; an inhabitant of cities, and not a rustic; a lover of peace, and not of war; a polite being, and not a ruffian. A tribal community may possess a culture, i.e. produce, and enjoy, hymns, songs, ornament of their clothes, of their weapons and pottery, dances, fairy tales and what not; it cannot however be civilized.” Strauss seems to be in agreement that progressivism is decadent and immoral, with its “planetary societies” devoted only to production and consumption, and above all else, an almost narcissistic devotion to individual rights and personal satisfactions. While not mentioned in the lecture, Weimar Germany was known for its liberalism. While maybe not quite tolerant, it at least seemed to look the other way at expanding views of traditional hierarchies of race, gender and class. This fact could not have been lost on Strauss. The basic claim of the piece is not that the Nazis were nihilist reactionaries, but that they were the wrong kind of reactionaries. He suggests at the end that the British, being of a different temperament than the French who gave in to their progressive passions, and the Germans, who clung to a fanciful pre-modern ideal, were able to weather this predicament of modern civilization and its discontentedness. He ends with the line, “it is the English, and not the Germans, who deserve to be, and to remain, an imperial nation.” In evoking imperialism as something to be deserved, Strauss reminds us just where his real allegiances lie. While the primary moral concern of abortion is bodily autonomy, pro-life supporters see it as secondary to the taking of an innocent life, which they view the fetus as being.
|