Archive for the ‘Columnists’ Category
Entry 1636 — Back to Goldberg
Wednesday, November 19th, 2014
Okay, back to my response to an essay by Jonah Goldberg. I was writing about the effect of ethotactical intelligence on ethotactical duration but also the width of said duration. An “ethotactic” is a person’s moral choice of action in a given situation. I ended my writing for that day with the following:
“Obviously, the situation will have a lot to do with the length of a person’s ethotactical durations, there seldom being little point in trying for a long one regarding what to do morally about a piece of candy one has been offered. Short-term moral behavior will not depend much on ethotactical intelligence. That means day-to-day behavior will generally be intelligent enough (and considered acceptable enough) although not based on long ethotactical durations or particularly high ethotactical intelligence.
“Now for a scattering of points, because I don’t see right off how to present a better organized response to Goldberg’s essay. First is his suggestion that too many people, especially young people, believe that “if it feels right, do it!’ by which he means all they think is necessary to make an ethotactical decision is passion. Goldberg amplifies this when he quotes a character in the movie, Legally Blonde, as follows: “On our very first day at Harvard, a very wise professor quoted Aristotle; ‘The law is reason free from passion.’ Well, no offense to Aristotle, but in my three years at Harvard, I have come to find that passion is a key ingredient to the study and practice of law—and of life.’”
“Well, I would agree with Goldberg that the character is an airhead . . .” I stopped there, cutting the paragraphs above from the text because I thought it had come to a good stopping point before them. When I came back to them just now, three days later, and wrote the paragraph beginning this entry, to set the scene, I was immediately unsure what I was talking about. There’s a person’s plain choice of action. How is it different from his moral choice of action?
Okay, a person’s choice of action depends on a vote from each of his active awarenesses at the time. These votes will probably never be equal. How much weight the vote of a given awareness will have will depend on the person and on the situation. And now I suspect I’m constructing a different theory or set of ideas than I was describing in part one of this cluster-dementia of an intellectual exploration.
I should probably re-start but I’m too lazy too. It is also possible that I’ve got an idea begun that may lead somewhere worthwhile. Question: what awareness provides the ethical portion of a person’s choice of action? Immediate answer: the evaluceptual awareness, because it is the awareness that determines on the basis of past experience what path is most likely to maximize the pleasure-to-pain ratio. This answer is wrong.
The moral content of the evaluceptual awareness’s choice will be determined all or mostly in the anthroceptual awareness, because it will try to make one act properly in order to satisfy one or more social instincts like the need to conform, the empathic need not to cause pain . . . there must be others but I can’t think of them now. The instinct not to cause pain probably has many sub-instincts under it: like the need not to boast (because it may make others feel smaller) . . .
I wonder if there’s an egoceptual instinct to be honest in appraising oneself. No one else need see that you dishonestly rate yourself a better poet than some Nobel Prize Winner, so it’s not a socioceptual instinct, if it exists. I think it may exist because it would be advantageous for preventing unrealistic behavior. But would it be moral? And what about the embarrassment of missing five lay-ups in a row in your backyard where no one can see you. You have immorally failed to live up to your own expectations just as missing one layup in a game would be immorally failing to live up to your group’s expectations. If doing what you’re supposed to in a team effort hasn’t to do with morality, what does it have to do with?
My problem is to intelligently describe a person’s choice of action, which I now see is a matter of describing the many choices it is a combination of—basically the votes of various awarenesses (and sub-awarenesses) I’ve already mentioned. Too much work for me now, so I’m outta here. I hope I return to this matter, for my own sake. (It would be immoral for me to deprive the world of my further thoughts about it.) Not sure I will.
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Entry 1633 — Moral Integrity
Sunday, November 16th, 2014
Jonah Goldberg is one of my favorite writers. I consider him funny enough to steal material from, and agree with (most of) his political outlook. Often, though, I find myself partially disagreeing with some position of his. At the moment, I’m disagreeing with portions of his latest essay in National Review, “Empty Integrity.” Goldberg believes the world is opting for a kind of “integrity” that Irish philosopher David Thunder categorizes as “purely formal accounts of integrity (which) essentially demand internal consistency within the form or structure of an agent’s desires, actions, beliefs, and evaluations.” Opposed to this is a kind of integrity, Thunder describes as “fully substantive accounts.” The difference between the two is that a person with the first kind acts in accordance with ethical principles designed to maximize his pleasure-to-pain ratio whereas a person with the second kind “desires to do what is morally good in all of his decisions,” according, again, to Thunder.
Goldberg implies that the first kind of integrity, which—because he associates it with the philosophy of Nietzsche, one of my idols—I will hereafter term Nietzschean Integrity, is “empty.” It isn’t. What he is really bothered by, first, is that a person possessing it does not “apply reason to nature and our consciences in order to discover what is moral” but simply does what “feels right.” This is wrong for Goldberg because it ultimately means understanding integrity “only as a firm commitment to one’s own principles—because one’s own principles are the only legitimate principles. The god of a person’s morality is thus not Jehovah but the person.”
Nietzschean Integrity is “empty” only inasmuch as there is no imaginary being running it. It seems to me that a truly empty integrity would be one that was devoid of rules to follow. That is not the case with Nietzschean Integrity. What makes it empty for Goldberg is merely his dislike of its rules . . . No, what is wrong with it for him is not its rules but the rules he believes it will be based on if some entity outside it is not their source. Actually there is no reason a person with Nietzschean Integrity might not “apply reason to nature and (his) conscience in order to discover what is moral” and, as a result become firmly committed to absolutely standard good old George Washington principles—because they lead him to rules of morality that “feel right” to him.
Ultimately, we all must follow the internal moral rules that feel right regardless of where they come from. Everything we do, we do because it feels right. Reason may tell someone that if he sticks his hand in a fire, he will experience pain, but he will accept what it tells him because it feels right. To give just one example of why you should accept my generality that should suffice to clinch my case—which, I suppose, reduces the question to one of simple semantics.
In any case, the real problem for Goldberg (and me) is what I have some up with the brilliant name for of “Stupid Integrity.” And here I bumble into boilerplate I feel bad about repeating but, I fear, is all I have to say about the topic. I claim that one necessarily tries always to maximize his P2P (i.e., his “pleasure-to-pain ratio”), as he at the time believes—I should say, “guesses”—it to be for a length of time dependent on his . . . anthreffec- tiveness, or effectiveness as a human being, which includes but is quite a bit more than his “cerebreffectiveness,” which includes what those less picky about such matters than I would call “intelligence” but is significantly more than. To make it easier to plow through what I will go on to say, though, I will replace “anthreffectiveness” with “intelligence.”
The stupider a person is, the shorter the period of time I’m speaking of will be. Since my greatest defect as a thinker is a need to name just about everything I discuss, I am now going to call this period of time the “ethotactical duration.” It’s a term I’ve come up with on the spot, so probably won’t last long. It’s how long ahead a person plans (in effect, since usually the “planning” will be nothing like formal planning, and won’t even involve what most people think of as thought)—or, to put it more simply, it’s how long a person will take to decide, based on his (conscious or unconscious) moral code, what he will next do. (A “behavratactical duration” is how far ahead a person plans before initiating any behavior.)
Note to Goldberg: please tell your couch that I am not purposely trying to distract my readers from my essentially empty ideas by overloading them with terminology, and that—while I do feel he’s almost as good an influence on my as he is on you, I’d prefer that he not bother me until I’ve finished saying what I want to say here. I should add that if he wants me to continue referring to him in the future, thus improving his chances of immortality by at least 0.62%, he needs to try harder to be my friend.)
To be fastidious to a nauseating extreme, I must say that by “how long ahead a person thinks before making an ethotactical decision about what he will do next,” I actually mean “how long ahead the wide variety of facts, feelings, and who-knows-what-else a person will (in effect) consult before making an ethotactical decision regarding what he will next do.
Now then, while the length of a person’s ethotactical duration has a great deal to do with the intelligence of his moral acts, the width and depth of his moral decisions (i.e., their intelligence) will have significantly more to do with it. Does he just consider the taste of a piece of candy he has been offered, or also its effect on his health and/or its effect on his reputation, and/or its effect on a child with him if you don’t offer it to him and the effect of that on you, and/or its effect on his mood and the effect of that on the poem he is composing . . . and the effect of that on what the world thinks of him in the year 2222?
As you can see, ethotactical intelligence will effect ethotactical duration but also the width of said duration. In the case just described, if the person is concerned only with the taste of the candy bar and the immediate effect of his giving it versus not giving it to the child, he will only be concerned with a duration approximately equal to the time it takes him to eat the candy, or the same length of time (let’s assume) that he will enjoy the child’s enjoyment of the candy if he gives it to the child, or feel guilty about not giving it the child if he eats it but the width of the duration will be greater than it would have been had he only considered how the candy would taste.
(My thanks to Goldberg’s couch for not telling me how clumsily I just expressed myself.)
TO BE CONTINUED (alas)
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Entry 1639 — Choice of Ethotactic, Part 4
Saturday, November 22nd, 2014
What I’ve said so far suggests a question to me: can something a person does with no ethical intentions be ethotactical? For instance, say I am with a friend I know to be much more poor than I and we come upon an apple tree in a public forest with one apple on it, and I pick it and eat it, not thinking of my friend. Or, for a more colorful example, say I have been taught that Irishmen are subhuman creatures without the ability to feel pain, and that hunting them will be good practice in the use of firearms that one may one day need to fight off aliens from outer space. So I shoot a few Irishmen between the eyes, inflicting pain on them without realizing it, and even perhaps killing one or two of them. Have I behaved immorally?
According to my theory of knowlecular psychology, no. That’s because an ethotactic, or the choice of a moral or immoral action, can only be the result of some anthroceptual decision based on living in harmony with a known social code.
I think I would go so far as to say that my killing an Irishmen or two in such a case is not immoral even according to most people’s standards. Many would protest, but because it would seem that I would be excusing a Nazi taught to consider Jews sub-human for gassing them. I would excuse the Nazi, but only morally. For me, he would be not immoral, but homicidally stupid—and therefore deserving to be reprimanded! Sorry. I have a weakness for black humor. What I believe is that such a person should be prevented from continuing to gas Jews by being executed—unless one truly believes some kind of re-education can make him accept Jews as human, and he is compelled to repay society for his social stupidity by spending the rest of his life shining the shoes of Jews for free or something.
Ultimately, I believe all reprehensible acts are acts of stupidity, and that what kind of stupidity is involved—moral stupidity or some other kind of stupidity—is irrelevant. Society should be maximally protected from the person acting reprehensibly (and protected from his genes, for I believe criminals [real criminals], and that’s who I’m talking about, should not be allowed to breed). Of course, I realize I’m making a complex subject seem much more cut&dry than it is. Just ideas to counteract simple-minded bad/good anti-continuumism and the insensitivity of certain sentimentalists to Evil.
About evil I will say that all definitions of it are necessarily subjective, but that it does exist, and can be defined sociobjectively. Sociobjectivity is a view of an idea that is held by such a large majority of the members of a society and which has an objective neurophysiological basis as to be close enough to true objectivity as to be taken as such. Take the evil of killing an innocent child. Almost everyone would disapprove of that, and (I believe) almost all of us are instinctively repelled by the deed, and—in fact—would instinctively try to prevent a child, innocent or not, from being killed.
Not that our instinct to use reason would necessarily not be involved. If effective, it might tell us that our standing in society will go up if we stop someone from murdering a child. Although our instinct to advance statoosnikally would be part of that. Actually, I think in most cases, protecting the child would be reflexive whereas our explanation would be taken care of mostly by our reasoning.
To be honest, if I were dominated by reason, I would never risk my life, even as the old man I now am, for some child, because what I believe I may contribute to World Culture is almost sure to be more than what the child will, however long he lives. The problem with that, of course, is that my ability to reason may be defective, in which case, my not saving a child at the risk of losing my own life would be stupid integrity–that is, acting according to my code that I should protect my own life at all costs because of its great value to the world. I claim that following that code would be absolutely valid if I were another . . . Nietzsche, without his breakdown.
Needless to say, the idea that Evil is what some deity has said it to be is absurd; various deities have universally defined certain acts as evil because the men who invented them were instinctively against those acts. Other non-universal acts, like saying something contemptuous about some deity, have also been said to have been ordained Evil by a deity invented by men not because their inventors were instinctively against such acts but because the definition of Evil helped them gain power or destroy other tribes, or simply because of some personal dislike—of a priest once clawed by a cat that made him claim his main god had defined cats as evil, for example.
I do think that reasoning should dominate every moral choice one makes, but it can’t overcome one’s instincts, all of which are ultimately moral, for a given person. We can only argue about whose individual morals would work best for the society we want to live in, and perhaps use reason to show that giving in to a society’s chosen code will be better for each individual in the long run, the long run excluding some never-seen Heaven or anything like it.
Which brings to mind the question of whether or not it is moral to lie to the masses and tell them some God will do horrible things to them if they don’t accept a society’s code. I realize that there are those who don’t believe that our species naturally, due to our genes, divides into different social classes–three of them, roughly speaking: masters, slaves, and . . . cerebreans. They’re nuts.
I divide ethics into the study of socioethotactics and the study of egoethotactics . . . I think. There are two major problems: formulation of a maximally fair and biologically advantageous set of socioethotactics by a society, and an individuals’ reconciling his inevitably conflicting set of egoethotactics with his society’s socioethotactics.
More on this eventually, if I think I can say anything at all interesting about it.
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Note: on the day I made my first entry here about ethotactics, 36 people checked up on me at my Wikipedia entry; rarely do more than 4 people visit it on a day, and none since the first month it was up have anywhere near that many done so. Were they fans of Jonah Goldberg, whose article I was commenting on? The visits after that have been few, for or five in a day at most.
Last, and definitely least, here’s this SURVEY again:
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